#i have pulled many an all nighter for this fic... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

highdramas · 3 months ago

Note

what about a jack abbot x reader where doctor!reader is assaulted by a patient and struggles with the ptsd after? reader doesn’t have family or many friends in the area for support so jack steps in and offers them comfort? idk i love how you write jack and i love some angsty hurt/comfort

sleeping with the lights on | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader

warnings: description of violence (gunshot wound), language, age gap (reader is 29, abbot is 48), ptsd, reader really goes through it but jack is there!

word count: 3k

summary: the unspeakable happens to you, and jack is there through it all.

notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. oooo anon, i loved this request! thank you! i hope i did it justice for you <3 this is not beta read so apologies for any typos! lmk if you'd be interested in a part two :)

you didn't intend to become an attending at PTMC once your residency was over. what you wanted was to find a position closer to home, but as fate would have it, the continual rejections wore you down. and with a junior attending position opening, it felt like it would be silly to let the opportunity pass you by. on the particularly bad nights, when you lay in bed with the lights on and hope that maybe nightmares won’t capture you that night, you ask yourself if you should’ve just held out for something else. but then you roll over and jack is there and you know you're where you should be.

the night it happened, you hadn’t slept well. you weren’t adjusting well to night shift but you were doing your best and you had so much caffeine in your system, your nerves already were fried. when you walked through the door before rounds, abbot took one look at you and said, “go home.”

“i’m fine,” you say without meeting his eye. if you weren’t fine, you would never forgive yourself. you didn’t put yourself through accelerated programs, didn’t pull countless all nighters, didn’t work your ass off to be an attending by twenty nine for nothing. no, you still had a chip on your shoulder. you wanted to prove that you could run with the big dogs.

“you look really fine,” dr. abbot says with a scoff, shaking his head, but not pressing further. you liked that about him. he was firm, but he knew when to back off and let you be.

but it’s only hours into your shift when it all changes– a rowdy patient. confused. you didn’t even have time to diagnose him before he went for the gun at his waist and blindly fired it, right at you. right into your arm, the bullet lodging within your muscle.

everything faded into a blur after that. the commotion. the pounding sound in your ears. you think you must have purposefully pushed it down. but you woke up slowly, with a wrapped arm, laying in an icu bed. with jack abbot in the seat beside you, his head hung, fingers laced in his lap.

when you started to move, he was up in an instant– not really sleeping, you figured. “hey, no quick movements. you’re okay.” you learned later that you were okay because jack sprang into action. you learned later just how bad it all could’ve been if jack wasn’t there, if jack wasn’t used to these kinds of wounds, if jack wasn’t your senior attending.

your throat was like sandpaper, and he passes you a water bottle from your bedside. a big bouquet of flowers sits on the table in your small room. “you got out of the OR couple hours ago,” he muses softly. as you awaken more, he divulges more details. “you’re okay. you’re gonna be alright. some nerve damage is the worst of it, but it’s not likely to be permanent. they got out all of the fragments from the bullet.”

jack sat with you until he had to go back on shift. you couldn’t ascertain why– you figured it must be his guilt. it had to be his guilt. but the days went on following the assault, and you were not perfectly alright.

and you didn’t know if you were ever going to be alright again.

when you were released to go home, you stood in the doorway of your apartment and you cried. not because you’d been shot at work. not because the use of your right arm was still spotty, at best. not because you didn’t know if this was something you could handle anymore.

you cried because being greeted with no one, nothing, rattled you. there was no one to fill your water bottle with the brita. there was no one to prop up your pillows. there was no one to make sure your pain meds were being taken at the appropriate times. no one to care for you.

you kept your injury from your friends and family back home. you didn’t know if it was wise, but it felt easier. if they didn’t know, then they couldn’t coax you back to the safe haven of familiarity. they couldn’t convince you to give up the thing that was your dream. you didn’t want to be living in what was once your childhood bedroom, which was now your dad’s office. you didn’t want to hear that you could find a great job locally. as much as you were unsure at first… you were glad that you stayed in pittsburgh. even with all of the difficulty that came with it.

the first day, you didn’t leave your bed. you kept your arm propped and you avoided answering any phone calls from home. you kept up with your friends through text the best you could– they’d notice if you weren’t responding. you watched all of the first season real housewives of salt lake city, and half of a season of survivor. you let your water bottle go empty. you let yourself wallow.

everyone from the hospital was being so lovely, but for some reason, you couldn’t find it within yourself to accept their charity. when they had asked if you had anyone to help you at home, you had assured them over and over again that, yes, you would be fine. jack had looked at you with a cocked head, but he didn’t push you.

on the second day, you mustered going to the couch. you propped your arm up and finished your season of survivor and doordashed the necessary provisions that you would need while you were still healing. you weren’t expecting anyone– when the door knock, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

when you checked through your peep hole, jack abbot was the last person that you were expecting to see.

his hands were full of reusable bags. his sunglasses were still on. his camouflage backpack was slung over one shoulder. he looked handsome, and strong.

opening your door for him, you don’t know what words to say, or what questions to ask. “will you let me in?” he asks.

you shift so that he can enter. he sets the bags down, takes his sunglasses and backpack off, and puts his warm hands on your arms. his right hand lives gently below your wrapped wound. he walks you back towards your couch. “what are you doing?” you finally find the competence to ask.

“from what i’ve gathered,” he says, gruff. “your family doesn’t live here. i don’t see you off gallivanting with friends. and when you lie, you chew on the inside of your cheek.” as he helps you settle back onto the couch, he adds, “i watched your tear your cheek up when dana asked if you have anyone to take care of you.”

despite everything he just said, how he stripped you down and saw you to the bone with minimal effort, all you could think of to ask was, “how do you know where i live?”

he smirks. “we do have an HR database, you know.”

“that has to violate my rights, somehow.”

jack huffs and stands up. “maybe. are you complaining?”

always the risk taker, you think. you give a meek shake of your head.

“now,” he rubs his hands together and leans down so that he’s on your level. “what can i do to help you?”

“abbot,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “you don’t have to do all of this. i know you feel bad, i know you’re just trying to be nice, but i’m fine.” you chew on the inside of your cheek without even thinking twice about it. “go home. i appreciate you. but you got off, what– five hours ago?”

“today’s my day off,” he counters.

“even more reason to go, be home. catch up on your sleep.”

he sighs. you can tell that you’ve exasperated him. “how about this. i’m gonna clean up your place. get a real meal made for you. and by the time i’ve done that, maybe you’ll cook up some ideas for what else i can do. capisce?”

you roll your eyes, but don’t argue.

for awhile, you watch him work. he does everything with such precision and decisiveness. he figures out the rhyme and reason of your apartment quickly, and the way he moves around, you would think that he has been living in your space, your orbit, for years. he maneuvers your apartment like he knows exactly how your brain works. hell– maybe he does.

at some point, you drift off to sleep. when you wake up, the glittering pittsburgh skyline winks back at you through your big window. jack is approaching, two plates in his hand. he sets them both down on the coffee table and smirks at you. “hey, sleeping beauty.”

you try not to read too much into his comment. “hi,” you begin to stretch, but that shooting pain goes up your arm and you wince, bringing it back down. “how long was i out?”

“about…” he looks at his watch. “four hours?”

“four hours?” you repeat. you can’t remember the last time you napped, period, let alone for more than thirty minutes. you crane your neck around, and you think your apartment may be the cleanest it’s ever been. even the dishes from the immaculate meal, if the smell is any indication, that abbot made for you.

“yeah. you needed it.” jack motions with his fingers. “sit up, and i’ll help you get all set up.”

you reluctantly do as he says. he adjusts the pillows until you’re still reclined, but able to eat comfortably. he sets the plate into your hands. “oh–” he turns and grabs your water bottle. you watch him walk off to the kitchen, retrieve the now-full brita from the fridge, and fill your water bottle to the brim. he walks back and places it on the coffee table.

jack sits on the couch at the opposite end. your feet barely graze his thigh. he takes his plate and turns the tv back on, survivor starting, right where you left off.

disbelief settles into you. you stare at him and he’s staring back. and it’s hard to explain this feeling in your chest, but it takes over you, and you find yourself fighting back tears. “thank– thank you. thank you.” you look down at the food he prepared and laughed. spaghetti and meatballs. you look back up, still blinking the tears away. “thank you.”

jack’s hand rests on your ankle, and he gives it a squeeze. “you’re welcome.” he eyes your plate. “go on. eat.”

–

jack didn’t leave before giving you a thorough check up, making sure all of your vitals were still good. when he seemed satisfied, he left, and told you to text him if you needed anything else. leftovers were in the fridge. he stocked you up with easy things to prepare. he made life easier, when it felt like it was at its worst.

jack checked on you regularly– sometimes dropping by, other times with a text or a phone call. he even kept you abreast with the goings on of the office, who was whispering about who, because he knew that you found amusement in that sort of thing. everyone took turns visiting you, making sure you were well cared for. it felt like there was usually at least one person from the hospital checking in on you per day, but none more than jack. not even dana.

“you know– abbot has been really worried about you,” garcia says as you two sip on tea she’d brewed for you and munch on sandwiches from your favorite spot. “when i came down after it all happened, i don’t think i’ve ever seen him like that.”

“like what?” you ask around a bite.

she shrugs. “i don’t know. he just looked… frantic. determined.” she mulls it over. “scared. we all were, but he was different.” she pauses and furrows her gaze at you. “are you two…?”

“no!” you laugh, shaking your head. “no, god no. he doesn’t think of me like that.”

“but you think of him like that?” she asks with a smirk.

you suppose you were caught, at that point, but you glower and change the subject.

for as sad as you were on that first day, things seem to have turned around. if nothing else… it was a good reminder that you weren’t alone. not really.

–

you were able to return to work after a month. your stomach was in knots– you’d had to sleep with the lights on since everything happened because you felt so… scared. loud noises scared you. when you closed your eyes at night to sleep, you would see the man’s face under those fluorescent lights. the unbridled fear in his eyes. you didn’t know what happened to him other than that, apparently, abbot and robby took care of it. you didn’t want to know anything else.

once again, standing in front of PTMC, you were forced to ask yourself if you were cut out for this. who was to say that something like that couldn’t happen again? it was out of the norm, even for a patient on healthcare worker assault, but it wasn’t impossible. what if you weren’t so lucky this time?

you let out a shaky breath and hold onto your bag a bit tighter. you were only working half days for two more weeks, and everyone tried to get you to agree to day shift, but you were adamant that it was important that you be on night shift.

that you be with abbot.

he met you outside. when he looked at you, you felt frozen in place. your hands shake and you cover your mouth with one, despite your trembling. jack looks at you, not with pity, but with understanding. and he pulls you in, gently, by your elbow, until you’re leaning into his chest and crying, and he’s murmuring to, “let it all out, i have you.”

you don’t go inside that day. you don’t go inside the next day when you try, either. but on the third day, when abbot meets you outside, the two of you walk in together.

the feeling that you’re being coddled is one that you cannot live with. you make it clear that you can handle it, that you want to be in the thick of it with everyone. when a GSW to the chest comes in, you try to pretend that it’s okay. you focus on the work and what you can do and even when you lose him, you keep yourself together. you last the full six hours and, yeah, you’re proud of yourself. you really are.

jack finds you at the end, on the roof. you knew that was sort of his thing, but it felt right– there was clarity, being so high up, and you wanted a taste of it. the sunrise was a picture of pinks, and you smiled at it. it felt like a warm hug, from an old friend.

“you did good today.” you look over your shoulder to see him approaching you. you sit on the ground, legs crossed, and he sits next to you. “i’m proud of you, doc.”

looking down at your lap, you smile, before your gaze slowly trails over to him. “i’m slower than normal,” you say. “and i don’t think my brain is fully working again, yet. but… i’m proud, too.”

“you should be.” jack looks out at the sunrise and chews on his lip. “you really scared me.”

surprised by his words, you look at him. “you said it yourself. it was a superficial wound. the fragments were concerning, sure, but there was never going to be a serious–”

“i don’t mean the injury,” jack says. “i mean you.”

“oh.” looking back down, you pick at your cuticle. “i’m fine.”

“you always say that, but i never believe you.” jack’s hand reaches out, and he takes yours, preventing you from bloodying your fingers with your nerves. he splays your fingers out, and it feels good in its simplicity. “i want you to tell me when it gets bad. trust me– it’s going to get bad. but it doesn’t have to stay bad,” you look up at him and he smiles when you make eye contact. “and it doesn’t have to be bad, alone.”

with a light laugh, you lean forward until your forehead rests on his shoulder. his hand runs through your hair, pushing back to kiss the crown of your head. then, tilting your chin up, your forehead. and then, your eyes are fluttering open and his are nearly lulled shut, but you nod your head once, and that’s all the permission that he needs.

skillfully, his hand cups your jaw, his thumb traces the bone and you grip his wrist as an anchor. he takes this seriously, you can tell– there’s determination in his hold, and you want him to feel yours, too. and when he finally leans in and kisses you, it feels like a garden of wildflowers has just bloomed in your heart.

jack, it seems, is good at everything. he’s good at cleaning your apartment and figuring out where things go. he’s good at cooking. he’s good at knowing what it is you need without saying it. he’s good at sewing you back together– literally. he’s good at being just what you need.

and he’s really, really good at kissing you.

jack abbot kisses like it’s the last thing he’s ever going to do. he kisses you like you’re slipping through his fingers, like you might fade away if he doesn’t. one moment, it’s just one tender hand on your jaw. the next, it’s both, cupping your face like you’re a precious jewel. he parts from you and examines your face carefully, his fingertips tracing your brow bone, down the bridge of your nose, the cupids bow of your lip.

you lean forward into him and he holds you. you feel your shoulders shake with a real, true cry. a full release. all of the fear, sorrow, grief, wanting, needing– you let it all out while jack holds you, nods his head, and says something so simple, but exactly what you need to hear– “i know, baby. i know.”

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbot imagine #jack abbott x reader #jack abbott imagine #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt fanfic #sleeping with the lights on #my writing

877 notes · View notes

viperify · 1 month ago

Text

1k celebration | ᴀᴄᴀᴅ. ʀɪᴠᴀʟ ꜱᴜʙ!ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆˚𝜗𝜚 ˖ Good Boy.

Short Summary: Tom Riddle and you have been fierce rivals for as long as you can remember. The year you finally beat him for top student, certain secrets come to light.

Warnings: 18+ only! sub!Tom—I mean it. submissive. mentions of intoxication, unprotected p in v, begging, brief handjob, teasing, edging, slight dacryphilia, creampie, face riding, oral f!receiving

A/N: here it isss!!! This is based of @tomriddleemp’s request! Thanks again for requesting, baby!

wordcount: 3,4k

in this fic, you will find HINT NR #6

The Great Hall erupts in cheers when your name is called. Your heart drops—head spinning. You’ve won it, made it. Become student of the year. You remember how hard you have fought for it. Pulled countless all-nighters just to get ahead of Riddle—who had defended the title for as long as you can remember.

You walk up to the professors and headmaster, facing all other students who seem to be quite pleased with your victory. Then, you hold your winner’s speech that you have prepared—half as a joke, half seriously. Your eyes flick towards Tom, briefly. The chatter and cheers fade into a blur, silence engulfing you as though time stills the moment your eyes meet his.

He sits there, next to his friends. They glance at him, then at you. None of them dare to move, sitting there like carved out of stone. As always, he’s controlling them as though they were his puppets. His expression is closed, guarded—like he can’t believe it. There is fire behind his eyes. Hatred. Probably already thinking about a way to make you pay for it. Find a reason for his failure.

That same evening, his head hurts from how hard he’s been trying to figure out how to discredit you. There is nothing. You’ve beaten him fair and square. He might hate you even more for it.

Hates how much he admires you. For not backing down, for working hard all year long—when he took time off, you studied. He admires you for what you have become.

He’s known you for years. Ever since you boarded the train as eleven-year-olds. Now, many years later—you are the person who’ll receive the opportunity for an internship at the Ministry this year. Instead of him.

The end-of-the-year party hosted the next day is mandatory for all students—he wouldn’t attend otherwise. There are more important things to do, and partying has never sparked his interest.

—

But just like the top student, interests can change, can’t they?

He’s gotten himself more drinks than he intended. And when one of them tastes slightly off—he doesn’t notice at first. Assumes they have put less alcohol in his firewhiskey. Goes to complain about it, just to almost get kicked out—his vision is blurry, his usually strong vocabulary reduced to a few select words. Barely able to walk. Other students are staring at him now—and the state of him.

It was not the Tom Riddle people knew—and he’d surely hate himself for it in the morning. Drinking, because of you. He’s never done this. Resort to alcohol when he is upset. And he knows there is more behind it—something he can’t quite grasp.

“Riddle! I want you and Riddle to go in there.” Your friend giggles, almost spilling her drink all over herself. Your eyes widen in horror. She can’t be serious, right? You clasp your hand over her mouth, but it’s too late. The others cheer you on, and Tom turns around from where he’s standing, having barely even registered his name being called.

Before you get to complain, a hand wraps around your wrist, and you are pushed towards a nearby broom closet—Riddle following you.

Your eyes narrow at the sight of him. One of the Gryffindor guys tugging on his sacred suit—and he doesn’t even bat an eye. His walk is unsteady, a half-empty glass of firewhiskey in right hand. Then, he gets shoved into the tight space, right next to you—and the door shuts close.

You fetch your wand, creating a small source of light. Tom is looking right at you, smirking while he takes a sip. You stare back at him for a moment, eyes scanning over his taller figure. Unsteady legs, dilated pupils—smell of alcohol so thick in the air, you have to keep yourself from gagging.

“You shouldn't look at me like that when we're alone. You know exactly what you're doing to me.” He manages between a few breaths, voice husky and suggestive.

The dots connect in your brain, and you take a step back, eyebrows furrowed.

“You are drunk, Riddle. Since when do you even drink?”

“M’ not,” he slurs, leaning in so close you have to push him away, steadying him. You definitely prefer him all arrogant and untouchable—not like this.

“Come on. I have a sober-up potion in my dorm. Can’t have you embarrass yourself—even I have some decency left.” You say quickly, intertwining your arm with his and slowly pushing the door open, checking whether anyone is watching. Then, you lead him away from the crowd, into the corridor and towards your dorm.

You have to stop several times so he doesn’t trip.

“Taking me to your dorm, huh? I have always wondered what it might look like from the inside. If you have pictures of your family, friends—your adorable little hobbies. What was it? Crocheting?” He stops mid-track and takes another sip.

These were probably the clearest sentences he’s spoken all evening—and you wonder how he knows all of this—why he knows and has remembered it.

Why he chose to tell you.

You shake your head. “You are out of your mind, Riddle. What have they given you to drink?” You snatch the glass he’s been holding this whole time and hold it close to your nose. Immediately, you recognize a trace of something herbal that was definitely not firewhiskey.

Veritaserum.

Well, you certainly do not have an antidote for that. It is badly brewed too—Veritaserum is supposed to be taste- and odourless. So the effects may last shorter or longer—

“Let’s go. Quick.”

When you shove him past the entrance to your dorm, closing the door behind you, a deep sigh falls over your lips. A drunk Tom Riddle in your room is not how you pictured this night to go. Certainly not a drunk Tom Riddle who is overly affectionate and honest.

You open your drawer, scrambling through the contents. A blue vial catches your attention, and you grab it. That must be it.

“Here, drink this.” You say, turning around—just to see him sprawled out on your bed, eyes scanning your room. Pausing at the pictures of you and your family on the wall next to your bed. You walk over to him with hurried steps, grabbing his arm and pulling him upright.

“Please just— drink this.”

His lips lift into a smirk, and his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer. So close, you almost lose your balance and fall on top of him.

“Sit on my lap,” he instructs, looking up at you with those big brown eyes of his. So soft now—unguarded and genuine. You’ve never seen them this close. Your heart skips a beat, and you look away, suddenly feeling hot all over.

Fuck.

He is drunk, you tell yourself. He’ll push you away as soon as the first drop of the potion touches his tongue.

“You don’t actually want me to. It’s the alcohol that’s talking for you,” you try, but he shakes his head.

“I have never wanted something as much as I want this.”

Usually, you pride yourself on your rational thinking skills. They are screaming no. But your instincts are screaming louder—and they are saying yes.

Then, you do get on his lap. Carefully. Hook one leg over his, then the second. He pulls you closer.

Darkened eyes instantly dropping to the hem of the dress you are wearing—it’s short, almost too short now. Your favourite. A black, satin material with glitter elements. It’s gorgeous—and he can’t take his eyes off you. How perfectly it hugs your curves, cut low enough for him to see the soft swell of your tits.

Your face heats up at the realisation of what he might be thinking. Meanwhile, his hand comes to rest on your thigh, wandering higher and higher—

“Drink this. Now!” You blurt out, opening the vial in a haste, placing the head of the bottle against his lips—and he empties it in one go.

You watch his reaction. His pupils shrink back to normal, and he breathes out—shakily.

Instantly, you try to get off—but he stops you. Without words, just tightens his grip. One hand on your thigh, the other on the curve of your hip. Fingers digging into your skin. He watches you for a moment, takes in his surroundings. The situation he is in.

At peace, no longer surrounded by loud music and the thick stench of alcohol in the air. Instead, it smells like perfume—a sweet scent, floral. Jasmine, perhaps.

With—you on his lap. He only faintly remembers how he got here.

Still, he can’t find himself complaining.

Your head spins as seconds pass. And suddenly, he is everywhere. His breath, his eyes, his hands. The bulge you feel growing beneath you.

“Stay.” He murmurs, finally.

You nod, reluctantly. Relax against him. The tension between you two is at an all-time high—and it feels different now. Not the academic type. It feels like the one-wrong-move-and-I-moan kind of tension. You try to avoid his gaze as best as you can, looking over to the drawer.

“I— I can look if I have another. You are not well.”

He shakes his head. “I am doing fine.”

“But—“

His hand cups your face, gently guiding your gaze back to his. “Shhh.” He whispers, drawing soft patterns on your waist.

Your protest catches in your throat as you get lost in the depth of his brown eyes—and he uses that moment to tenderly brush his thumb over your lips. Then, he leans in, slowly but surely, and presses a kiss to them. Soft, gentle, deliberate.

“We shouldn’t,” you whisper against his lips, shaking your head.

“You are right, we shouldn't. But that's exactly why it feels so good.”

His fingers brush your skin as he eases the first strap of your dress from your shoulder. You kiss him again—and your mind goes blank. Suddenly the year-long rivalry between you both is forgotten, or doesn’t matter—not now, at least.

What matters is him and you, this moment.

“Do you hate me as much as you pretend?” You whisper as you break apart.

His eyes scan your face. “No. Never have.”

You’ve never thought there’d be a day where you would thank whoever invented Veritaserum. But it has come.

The second strap follows—and your dress slips down to bunch around your waist—Tom’s gaze following the satin fabric, lingering on your tits for a moment, placing a kiss to your sternum—looking up at you as he does. His grip on your thigh softens—the slightest twitch in his finger. Yet, you feel it. Feel how he softens, opening himself up to you. The usual harshness vanished—big brown doe eyes staring back at yours.

The energy between you shifts in that moment, and both of you sense it. Confidence blooms in your chest, and you slide off his lap, stepping out of your dress as it drops to the floor. He watches your every movement, eyes following your hands as you undress in front of him.

First your bra, discarding the lace on the floor. His hands cup the soft curve of your hips once more, trailing kisses up your lower tummy as his fingers hook into your panties, slipping them down your legs. An action so calculated, you could mistake it for one straight out of your countless romance novels.

“What are you waiting for, Tom?” You purr, pulling him closer by his tie as you bend over, kissing him. “Need me to help you?”

Words fail to form in his brain. He nods, breathless. “Please.”

You sit down on his lap again. Naked. He swallows, hard. Fabric of his trousers stretching taut over the dent that has formed beneath them.

Piece by piece drops to the ground. His suit, his tie, his shirt. Lastly, his trousers and underwear. You let him step out of them, capturing him in another kiss.

“You like when someone takes control for once? Gives that beautiful brain of yours a break?”

Again, he nods.

You huff a laugh. “Lay down, then. Just lie there and look pretty for me, okay?”

He follows your order without a moment of hesitation. Lies down on your soft mattress, which dips beneath him. His eyes don’t leave yours, not even when you climb on top of him and settle on his thighs.

“That’s what you do best, after all.” You continue, trailing your hands up his thighs—making him breathe in, sharply. “Looking pretty—a shame you weren’t just as good in class this year. I wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

You don’t give him time to find an answer—wrapping your hands around his cock, your finger ever so gently following a thick vein on the underside, which stretches all the way to his flushed tip—already glistening with precum. His head drops back at the sensation, eyes squeezed shut, lips slightly parted.

God, he is gorgeous like this.

Tom’s hands reluctantly reach to touch you, palming your tits—but you shake your head, pinning them to his side instead. “No touching. Just watching.”

Then, your hand wraps tightly around his length, giving him a few gentle strokes. He hisses as you do—hips jolting upwards.

So sensitive.

“Fuck,” he rasps, fingers curling into the bedsheets. “I need to feel you. God— let me feel you.”

“Hm. I think you forgot something,” you reply, thumb swiping over his tip, a ghost of a touch—but he is so, so reactive.

“Please,” he whimpers, finally. “Please let me feel you.”

You grant him his wish. Positioning his tip on your entrance, you slowly, carefully sink down on his length. Inch by torturous inch. Until you are flush with his hips—a soft moan escaping you. He is the perfect combination of girth and length, stretching you open perfectly. You place your hand on his chest and start moving. Rolling your hips against his, gently at first.

Tom has to fight himself not to touch you. He wants to—so badly. Wants to feel your smooth skin, feel your curves beneath his hands when he closes his eyes. Yet, he refrains. Lets you have control over him. It’s hard—but the longer he endures, the more he enjoys it. Being able to shut off his brain. Just feel.

You swipe a curl from his face, leaning over to press a kiss to his swollen lips. “Touch me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Hands wandering over your hips, waist, to your tits. Palming them, squeezing. Whimpers here and there when you take him all the way. Reacts to every change in pace, angle. Looks at you as though you were an angel sent from heaven—soft, beautiful, mesmerizing. How tight you are squeezing him, how you manage to make each moment better than the last. Your own soft moans music to his ears. It drives him to the edge of sanity.

You notice when he gets louder, his eyes fluttering closed. Take in his expression, stilling your movements.

“Look at me,” you murmur, taking one of his hands in yours.

Tom whines as he does—soft, broken. Lips swollen and bleeding from how hard he’s been biting them. Tears pricking at his eyes. He is so close—just in reach. So sensitive, it hurts.

Lifting yourself slowly, you sink down again—steadily, just to tease him.

Yet, you feel him pulse inside you, eyes rolling to the back of his head—hips stuttering beneath you.

“Shh.” You whisper, silencing him with a finger on his lips, shaking your head softly as you force him to look into your eyes. “Don’t come yet. Don’t you dare come yet.”

He nods, a tear rolling down his cheek. You wipe it off with your thumb.

“Don’t cry, pretty boy. All you need to do is ask.”

No hesitation. Pure and raw need. “Please— fuck, please let me cum. Please��“

Smiling at him, you get off—instead taking his cock in your hand, soaked in your arousal. You caress over his tip—which pulses at your touch. He moans, hips jerking up at the slightest contact. Chasing your touch—anything.

“That desperate? Poor you. Just want to cum, don’t you, Tommy?” You mock with fake sympathy, head dipping to place a kiss right below his sensitive tip.

He nods, hastily. Groans when you give him a single stroke—slow, not even remotely tight enough for it to feel good. Yet—his eyes beg for more. He’ll take anything at this point. You grin at the state of him, satisfied. You’ve broken him. Great Tom Riddle, looking up at you like a lost puppy with his big brown eyes. Even prettier than usual. So soft, so submissive. You could get used to this.

“Why don’t you tell me how much you want it? Show me how pathetic you can sound while begging?”

His lip quivers. “I am— God, I want— I need it. It’s all for you— just please—“ he whimpers, and you press a kiss to his forehead, shushing him.

“Good boy. Such a good boy.”

Your hand wraps around him again, giving him a few more strokes, dragging it out. Over his swollen tip, eagerly leaking with need. “No, Tommy.” You whisper. “Not yet. Wait for my permission.”

You are pushing him to his limits, and you know it. “Please,” he whispers, broken, half a sob. “I’ll do anything.”

Deciding to end his torture, you sink down on him once more, angling yourself better. Using the last bit of strength left in your thighs.

“Come for me, pretty boy.”

And he does—hard. The feeling of your warm cunt wrapped so snugly around him, clamping down—he loses it. Whimpering your name as thick ropes of cum paint your walls white, hips stuttering beneath you, every muscle in his body wrung tight. Hands interlocked with his as you guide him through it, praise him.

It lasts several long seconds—and after, his body just goes limp on your bed, chest heaving, eyes closed.

You give him a minute to calm down before you gently lift yourself off of him, getting a towel to clean the both of you.

But he stops you. Holds onto your wrist. You turn to face him, about to ask what’s wrong—

“Sit on my face, please?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I don’t need to—”

“Yes, absolutely. Please?” He asks again, and you don’t deny him this time.

Fingers digging into your hips, pulling you even closer—and God, his tongue works magic. Licking and sucking on your clit just the right way, you soon find yourself a trembling mess on top of him.

“How do we taste, Tommy? You like it?” You breathe, accompanied by a moan.

He nods, humming against your soaked cunt—greedily lapping up your mixed arousal. “Good. So good.”

Tom doesn’t let go immediately—not even when your climax washes over you with such force, you see stars dancing in front of you, vision going black at the edges. Your thighs tremble, no longer able to hold yourself up—but he loves it. Doesn’t stop sucking on your clit until you beg him to.

After cleaning everything up, you settle down beside him—and he pulls you in, holding you close until you fall asleep.

Tom knows he can’t stay. That you might regret this the morning after.

So, after double-checking you are asleep, he quietly gets up, dresses himself. Looks back one last time at your sleeping form. Smiles to himself. Then, he pushes down the handle of the door, and with silent steps walks down the corridor to his own dorm, the first golden sun rays of the morning lighting his way, casting a glow on his messy curls.

When you wake the next morning, the spot next to you in your bed is empty, cold. He’s gone, and that for a while, although it’s only 6:00.

You wonder whether he regrets last night, if he regrets you.

That is, until you spot a note on your bedside table.

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | 1k celebration. <- event masterlist.

#ᯓᢉ𐭩 ᴍᴀʀ’ꜱ 𝟣ᴋ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ .ᐟ ₊ 𝜗𝜚 ⟡˚˖#ᯓᢉ𐭩 ᴍᴀʀ’ꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ✎ᝰ.ᐟ #sub!Tom #tom riddle #tom riddle smut #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fic #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle imagine #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys x reader #harry potter #harry potter fandom #dividers by strangergraphics

701 notes · View notes

posh--bee · 2 months ago

Text

falling for you (into the deep end) || Aaron Hotchner

pairing → Aaron Hotchner x Reader

summary → One second, you're standing next to your father's pool, ready for a cold drink on a hot summer day, and the next you're suddenly falling into said pool with a man you have never met before in your life. A man who shortly after introduces himself as Aaron Hotchner to you, your father's unit chief and friend. Yep, this is definitely your worst nightmare come to life.

warnings → meet-cute, fem!reader, rossi!reader, reader has rossi's last name, reader wears a bikini, reader is down bad immediately, Aaron is the sweetest guy ever, but also down bad, (unspecified) age gap, a cuss word here and there, short description of a hypothetical crime, no y/n used

author’s note → I wanted to write something for Hotch, preferably with a reader who is Rossi's daughter. Throw in a quirky and slightly awkward meet-cute and voilà—here we are! I'm pretty sure Rossi's mansion doesn't have a pool, but who cares, now it does! This fic kinda developed a life of its own near the end so let me know what you think about it <3

word count → 4.8k

masterlist(s)

series masterlist || ⋆part 1⋆ part 2 - part 3 coming soon-ish :3

The soft ripple of the pool's aquamarine water rocks you gently, caressing your sun-warmed skin, the smell of chlorine, sunscreen, and what can only be described as summer tickling your nose.

The leaves of the trees surrounding your father's property rustle in a lazy breeze and you open your eyes, the clear sky that greets you as brilliantly blue as the water you're floating in, your arms and legs spread like you're mimicking a very happy and very relaxed starfish.

It's one of the hottest days of this year's summer and you decided to enjoy it thoroughly in the best way you know how: By lazing around your dad's house—sorry, mansion—eating his food and commandeering his pool until you're all wrinkly, while he is at work, catching the worst monsters humanity has created.

You will always be worried about him when he's gone but you've only ever known a world where that is what your father does; hunting down killers, teaching others to do the same, or writing books about understanding and capturing these dangerous people. And making a ton of money in the process.

Naturally, he never wanted you to follow in his footsteps, knowing how dangerous, how grueling, how draining his work can be, hoping that his only daughter would choose a different path for her professional life.

And naturally, you defied his wishes.

Kind of.

Only last week, after years and years of studying and researching and writing papers and pulling all-nighters and drinking enough caffeine to power an aircraft, you graduated with a PhD in Forensic Science and can now proudly announce yourself as Doctor Rossi instead of Miss Rossi.

That's why you're currently back at your father's place, simply enjoying doing absolutely nothing before you're officially joining the workforce, hopefully helping to catch many more of the monsters your father and his team hunt and developing the methods and practices of your field further.

But for the moment, you're content to simply float in the pleasantly cool water, watching a single lonely cloud drift across the endless blue sky before you decide in a stroke of pure genius that a cold and fruity drink is exactly what you need to make this perfectly carefree day even better. You let yourself grow heavy in the water, your body sinking to the tiled bottom of the pool where you remain motionless for a few seconds, admiring the mesmerizing shifting patterns the sunlight paints underwater before you kick off the tiles, your fingers wrapping around the metal bars of the pool's ladder as soon as you reach them.

You climb out of the pool, water cascading down your body and creating a small puddle on the sun-warmed wooden planks of the patio at your feet. You grab your towel from one of the fancy deck chairs and quickly dry yourself enough to go to the kitchen and make yourself a drink before leisurely sipping on it while you lie in the sun, a hopefully good book keeping you company until you decide it's time for another relaxing activity.

With your game plan fully formed, you set it in action, going over to the sliding glass door that leads back into the house when you catch sight of your reflection in it, briefly pausing to fix the top of your—if you might say so yourself—super cute and flattering bikini.

But before you can then reach for the handle, a silhouette of a person appears behind the glass out of nowhere and the door slides open all the way, revealing a man you have never seen before in your life standing in front of you.

In your father's house. That you thought you had to yourself.

Oh hell no.

Immediately, your heart jumps into your throat, your pulse spiking in pure panic and you stare at the stranger fearfully, your brain frantically scrambling to find the best course of action that doesn't lead to your pictures ending up on one of the boards at your father's workplace—one photo showing a candid shot of you smiling, probably from your recent graduation, while the others would document how the killer left your broken and bruised body behind on the patio, your blood painting the wooden planks red, seeping into the cracks between them, maybe even dripping into the pool's clear water and staining it with clouds of diluted blood.

The stranger's dark brows furrow in concern, and when he gently, carefully says your name, it does nothing to calm you—not in the slightest. Your body is stiffly frozen on the spot while your fight-or-flight response is busy flipping a coin and waiting to see which side it will land on.

But then the stranger takes a step towards you and you spring into action, yelping in alarm and instinctively taking one, two, three steps backwards—away from him—which you quickly realize was a big mistake when the terrible feeling of having missed a step makes your stomach drop.

And then time slows down.

With a startled cry you fall backwards, flailing your arms helplessly but without a chance to regain balance when your back foot is already hanging over the edge of the pool. The stranger's eyes widen in surprise and he urgently reaches for you, his warm and strong fingers actually closing around your wrist firmly, trying to pull you back towards him—but it's too late.

Your momentum makes the stranger lose his footing as well and not a fraction of a second later the two of you break the pool's glittering surface in a joint, enormous splash, instantly submerged by the water.

Little drops of it are still raining down on you when you and the stranger come back up at the same time to gasp for air, your pulse ringing in your ears, looking and feeling more than a little disoriented. Your wide eyes find the deep brown ones of the unfamiliar man next to you and he silently stares back at you with an equally befuddled expression.

He's extremely handsome, your brain notes unprompted, even with his previously styled hair now completely wet, the dark strands sticking to his forehead and sending droplets running down his sharp features, some stubbornly clinging to his eyelashes and even the tip of his nose. Naturally, his clothes are completely soaked too, his dress shirt now clinging tightly to his body and it embarrassingly takes you a moment to avert your eyes from this sight, from his chest, and shoulders, and arms, especially when you notice the way he has the sleeves rolled up above his elbows.

With warm cheeks that have nothing to do with you lazing around in the sun all day, your gaze snaps back to his face which looks like he's still trying to comprehend what just happened.

And that's when the horrible realization dawns on you.

That maybe this man who didn't show any signs of aggression towards you and even tried to save you from falling, who knows your name and is dressed in suit pants, a dress shirt and nice shoes might not be a serial killer coming to end your life after all.

And you just made him fall in the pool with you—completely clothed.

Oh no. Not good. Very not good.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry! Are you—are you okay?"

The words tumble out of your mouth franticly, your voice too loud, too shrill, a wholly different kind of panic settling in that makes your hands tremble and your stomach feel slightly sick.

The stranger lets out a high-pitched, breathless laugh, an amused kind of disbelief on his face when he answers, "I am, yes. Are you alright?"

His deep voice is good-humored and kind, the kind that makes your knees go a little weak despite yourself and all you manage in response is a quick little nod, threading your fingers together in front of your body, nervously playing with them under the water.

You watch him brush the hair from his forehead with one large hand, slicking the wet, jet-black strands back, water running down his arm, droplets getting caught in the dark hairs on his forearm and he quickly looks at the probably very expensive and now very drenched watch on his wrist before his kind gaze finds yours again, saying, "I'm sorry I startled you like this. I thought Dave texted you I was coming over. He has some old case files on his desk he asked me to review while he's still at the office."

As soon as these words leave his mouth, your cheeks and ears flame up in shame while your eyes widen in horror. Because that means this man who is currently in the pool with you is an FBI agent, a highly skilled profiler working on the same team as your dad, and it's all your fault that he took a completely involuntary dive with you.

And then, as if you're not already wishing for the bottom of the pool to open up and just swallow you whole to end your misery, he adds the one thing that makes this surreal situation even worse.

"I'm Aaron—Hotchner. It's good to finally meet you. Your father talks a lot about you."

Cool.

Cool cool cool cool.

Because of course, of all the agents your father works with you just made Aaron Hotchner, the BAU's unit chief and your dad's very serious, very important and very no-nonsense FBI boss fall in the pool with, completely clothed, and probably ruining his expensive shoes and watch and wallet and phone in the process.

Sure.

No problem.

Definitely not one of the most humiliating things to ever happen in your life.

You are going to drown yourself in this pool.

With your mind and body locked in a continuous state of distress, you exhale a trembling breath that does nothing to calm you, the words just spilling out of your mouth, your voice cracking pathetically as you try to explain yourself and apologize to him, completely distraught.

"Oh god, I'm so so sorry, I—I didn't know—I left my phone inside and haven't checked it in hours—If I'd known you were coming over, I'd—I'd never—oh my god—"

To make matters even worse you have to realize with renewed horror that tears are welling up in your eyes and you stubbornly press the heels of your hands to your eyes as you gasp for a breath, struggling to keep your emotions under control and regain even the semblance of composure. You refuse to make an even bigger fool out of yourself in front of him than you already have.

But that's nearly impossible when Aaron's voice is so infuriatingly understanding and kind, his tone soft and comforting.

"It's alright, you really don't have to apologize to me. You didn't know and I scared you half to death. It's not your fault, so don't worry about it, okay?"

But how can you not worry about how much you messed up when this is probably the worst first impression you have ever left on someone—and that includes the time you destroyed someone's side mirror with your own car only to learn a few days later that that someone was your then-boyfriend's very unamused mother when you visited his parents for the first time for a very uncomfortable and icy dinner. (Your mind still likes to torture you with this little incident when you're busy trying to fall asleep, basically dooming the relationship from the very beginning, but in the end it was for the best—because that woman would've shown up wearing a white dress to her son's own wedding. So you're pretty sure you dodged a huge bullet there.)

You risk a glance at Aaron through the gaps between your fingers, the reassuring smile on his face making you feel a little silly, a little overdramatic but it also makes you calm down enough to let your hands drop from your face. Not that you had any chance not to, not when he's looking at you like you couldn't do anything wrong in his eyes, ever.

"I mean it, it was just an accident. Don't blame yourself for that."

He says it with so much conviction that you're almost ready to believe him, but the unhappy frown still clings stubbornly to your face, still mentally berating yourself over this whole situation you actually had very little control over.

That's why you jump almost a foot into the air (the water you're still standing in) when a warm and big, big hand gently squeezes your naked shoulder. Aaron is somehow so much closer than before, looking down at you and steadily holding your gaze while all you can do is dumbly stare back into his eyes, captivated by the sparkle of amused patience in them, by the way his dark eyelashes frame them so perfectly, following his sharp features to the slope of his nose, further down to his lips, wondering just how they would feel pressed against yours—

Nope—!

That very attractive and very wet man in the pool with you is still your father's colleague and friend, you remind yourself with burning ears, letting out an involuntarily awkward little giggle that ends in a dramatic sigh, your whole body deflating under the comforting weight and warmth of his hand on your skin.

You manage to smile up at him despite your chest still feeling a little too tight with anxiety while butterflies undeniably start to stir in your stomach.

"Thank you for saying that," you murmur defeatedly as you try and fail to tear your gaze from his eyes. "But I'm still sorry about your clothes and watch, and everything else too."

But he simply shakes his head, easily dismissing your attempt to apologize once more, shutting down your offer to pay for the damages that would surely follow before it could even pass your lips.

"It's fine, really. All of these things can be replaced. I'm just glad you didn't hurt yourself."

How can he just say things like these with that stupidly attractive and smooth voice of his while his hand deliberately rubs up and down your arm and not expect you to fall for him right then and there? Because you're pretty sure that's what's happening right now, without you having the slightest of chances to stop it.

But that's a problem you will have to deal with later, you decide, because right now the two of you are still just standing in the water together, and while your attire is completely pool-approved his very much isn't and you probably should get him at least a towel and some dry clothes to change into.

So you softly tell him as much, nodding your head towards the house, "I could get you some of dad's clothes so you can change, I hope that's okay."

"That would be perfect, thank you," Aaron answers, a grateful smile on his lips and you can't help but notice and appreciate the enticing crow's feet framing his eyes while he does.

You give him a timid smile in return, mumbling, "It's the least I can do."

He only gives your elbow a final tender squeeze in reply before pulling his hand back, his fingers lingering on your heated skin for just a moment longer and you can't find it in you to complain about it, not when a pleasant shiver runs down your spine at that.

Crap. You're in so much trouble already.

Reluctantly, you look away from him and turn around, heading to the pool's ladder, your whole arm tingling with the ghost of his touch but you try to ignore it as best as you can—which isn't all that much.

You climb up the steps first before holding out your hand for Aaron even if it's not strictly necessary. You're delighted when he takes it anyway without hesitation, your whole hand swallowed in his firm grasp, a discovery that makes your stomach do a funny little flip.

"I hope this at least takes the first place of the most memorable ways you ever met someone for the first time," you joke as Aaron emerges from the pool, finding some humor in this absurd situation as you watch his soaked clothes lose probably half of the pool's content on the planks of the patio, the wet fabric sticking to his body unpleasantly. But you don't miss the quick upwards quirk of his lips despite him looking like a pretty miserable, drowned rat now. You try to cover up your amused snort with a cough, but you know he can't have not caught it.

He however takes it in stride and graciously ignores it, instead starting to take off his watch while saying, "It absolutely does. And I can't say I wasn't wishing to cool off all day today, but that wasn't really what I had in mind. Not that I'm mad at all about this spontaneous opportunity to take a swim with you."

He smiles at you, fully, boldly, and you're probably mistaken when you think you saw just a sliver of shyness shining in his eyes because you're too distracted by the rest of his face that looks somehow even more handsome than before.

"Well, in that case, you're very welcome," you play along easily despite your heart slamming almost painfully against your ribcage. "And what can I say, I just love to leave a lasting first impression."

You're blessed with that charming high-pitched laugh of his again while he lays his watch on the patio table before his hands move to the buttons at the top of his shirt—which is not something you should find as enticing as you do.

"You definitely did. I just hope you don't make everyone you meet for the first time fall for you like that."

The words take a moment to fully register in your mind as you're busy admiring his deft fingers working on the first button of the shirt, but when they do something must suddenly take possession of you because your mouth curls into a teasing smile without you really meaning to and you casually hum, "Hm, no. Just you."

Aaron's fingers freeze mid-movement, his gaze so much more intense than just moments before but to your own surprise you don't shy away from it, keeping your eyes locked with his as he carefully utters his next words, his voice just a little rougher.

"That must make me pretty special, then."

You consider his words with a slow tilt of your head, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to keep the eager smile threatening to overtake your face contained, your heart hammering away in your chest and your head feeling slightly dizzy. The daring and impulsive part currently in control of you makes you step directly into his personal space without hesitation where you can openly admire the small amount of chest hair peeking over the collar of his t-shirt which immediately cancels out the disappointing discovery that even in this heat he's wearing multiple layers.

"It probably does, Mr. Hotchner," you practically purr in reply, your voice almost unrecognizable to your own ears as you bring your hands up to his chest.

Your eyes never stray from his when you nudge his hands away from his shirt and replace them with your own, your fingers shaking visibly as you slowly, deliberately slide another button through its respective hole for him. And he lets you, his lips slightly parted, his gaze so much heavier, so much more heated than before that you have to suppress a full-body shiver.

You know it's not appropriate to do what you're doing right now, not with a man who is easily ten years your senior, who you never met in person before today and—most importantly—who is not only your father's superior but also his friend. And before today you would have never given in to your impulses like that, simply shoving them to the farthest corner of your mind where they would come back to haunt you during sleepless nights, making you wonder what could've been if you had just taken a chance for once in your life.

You don't know why it's different now with Aaron Hotchner of all people, what it is about him that makes you act like this so suddenly, so uncharacteristically bold, but you can't stop yourself—and to your thrilled delight, it doesn't seem like he wants you to either.

Not when you can clearly see the nice blush dusting the apple of his cheeks pink. Or when you notice the anticipation in his eyes, his tongue absentmindedly peeking past his dry lips to wet them. Or when you catch his pupils dilating as his attention snaps down to a droplet of water shining on your collarbone, his eyes following its path utterly transfixed as it slowly runs down between your breasts, the soft swell of your chest on full display for him thanks to your bikini top hugging you so perfectly.

To your astonishment, his gaze doesn't make you uncomfortable or exposed and you don't shy away from his attention—quite the opposite. You let yourself revel in it, a pleasant tingling sensation spreading from the very tips of your fingers to the rest of your body, making you feel confident and desired in a way few, if any, people have in the past.

He makes you feel cherished, the (poorly hidden) want in his eyes only increases this feeling.

But most importantly—he makes you feel safe.

That's what's so different about him.

So it's not surprising that you're lightheaded in the best way possible when your fingers slowly trail further down his shirt, smugly smirking up at him when he realizes he was caught red-handed ogling his friend's daughter's scarcely clad chest.

You see his Adam's apple work uneasily in his throat as he tilts his head slightly, not being able to meet your eyes anymore, his whole posture suddenly uncomfortable and stiff and the look on his face downright terrified. You find everything about this incredibly endearing and equally entertaining, the way his cheeks are now deeply red and probably burning hot to the touch, the tips of his ears very much in the same condition and his hand flexing by the side of his body as if debating whether physically pushing you away and creating some distance between the two of you would somehow remedy the situation.

But he doesn't, instead his gaze guiltily flickers to meet yours for a split second and then his lips part for the first words of a sincere yet deeply embarrassed, stammered apology. Yes, Aaron Hotchner, the ever-serious, ever-composed, big bad FBI agent who stares down serial killers for a living, who doesn't even flinch when the barrel of a gun is pressed against his head, actually stammers, evidently not used to losing control like this, not used to allow himself to give into temptation, anything that would expose that behind his almost perfect mask is simply a man, a human, with tragically repressed wants and needs and desires.

But you smile up at him, kindly, giddily, because you're really not used to someone like him giving you this kind of attention and you refuse to let yourself feel bad about it now and start to overthink it, so you simply say, "It's okay. I don't mind."

And then, because it's the truth, you add, "Not when it's you."

Your words cause a quick succession of emotions to flash across Aaron's face—regret, surprise, doubt, relief—only to finally settle on something so soft, so gentle, so close to adoration that your first, entirely instinctual reaction is to shrink and hide away from gaze.

But he doesn't let you, holds your gaze steadily and brings his hand up to yours still lightly resting against his chest. His fingers curl around your much smaller palm and he has the audacity to smirk at your very obvious, very telling reaction to this as if your roles weren't reversed just moments before. But then he gently presses your hand against his chest, his hand still covering yours and you immediately forgive him.

Because like this, you can feel the heat of his skin slowly bleed through the wet fabric of his shirt and into your own skin. You feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the low hum forming there when your other hand moves with a mind of its own to rest on his shoulder, anchoring you to him further.

But most importantly, like this, you can clearly feel his heartbeat mirror the almost frantic, thundering pace of your own.

It's as confusing as it is exhilarating, knowing that for some bizarre reason, you and this stranger (because as many times your father has talked about Aaron, you have never met him before today) feel the same magnetic pull towards each other, and without knowing who moved in first you're suddenly breathing the same air, your faces close enough for you to count each individual dark eyelash and admire every single detail and imperfection of his handsome face.

Questions linger unspoken in the small space between you—Is this okay? Should we really be doing this?—but the small impatient noise escaping you is enough to dissipate them immediately.

He moves in even closer and you let your eyelids flutter shut, your heart stuttering in your chest when you feel his breath fan across your face, feel his lips hesitantly brush against your own, the faint touch enough to send a spark of overwhelming pleasure down your spine, the eruption of butterfly wings in your belly like nothing you ever felt before in your life, before finally—

Finally—

—the devastating sound of the front door falling shut echos through the whole house, your father's cheerful voice calling out both your and Aaron's name.

Your eyes snap open in horror, your heartrate spiking alarmingly, and like you were burned you push away from Aaron, desperate to create even the illusion of distance between the two of you. You're lucky you don't fall in the fucking pool again but only because of Aaron's quick reflexes, his arm wrapping around your naked waist and urgently pulling you flush against him, thankfully not losing his footing this time.

Terrified, you stare up at him, both of you frozen in this blatantly incriminating position—entirely too close, too intimate for two strangers, a daughter and her father's friend—his palm burning into your naked skin while your dad's footsteps are coming closer, and closer, and closer—

In a last, desperate attempt to save yourself and Aaron from being discovered like this your tardy fight-or-flight response kicks into gear again, urging you to—albeit reluctantly—exit his hold and rush towards the house, fleeing the scene of the crime and leaving poor Aaron to explain what happened to your father.

You don't stop when you run past your dad, only squeaking something unintelligently about getting some dry clothes when his confused voice calls after you, your wet feet almost causing you to slip and fall on the cold and hard marble floor but somehow you make it to the safety of the upper story, making a beeline to the master bedroom's dressing room.

With your heart beating painfully inside your chest, you curl up into a miserable ball of anxiety and regret in the middle of the room, not caring that you're dripping pool water onto the expensive carpeted floor, your shaking hands coming up to cover your face.

What the hell were you thinking? How will you be able to face your father—or worse, Aaron—ever again?!

You press the heels of your hands hard enough against your eyes that stars and shapes overtake the darkness of your vision, contemplating if staying inside this dressing room for the rest of your life is really that bad of an option.

But you're startled back into action when Aaron's calm but carefully controlled voice followed by your father's boisterous laughter travels up the stairs to you and you pick yourself off the floor before hectically digging through your father's clothes until you find something passable for Aaron to change into.

As you descend the stairs, knees weak and threatening to give out underneath you, your anxiety pressing heavily against your chest, you wonder helplessly how you will survive the rest of this day, how you will ever survive seeing Aaron again after today.

Because this afternoon, while he fell in the pool with you, you fell for Aaron Hotchner.

(And he fell in love with you, too.)

series masterlist || ⋆ part 1 ⋆ part 2 - part 3 coming soon-ish :3

divider by @/cafekitsune

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #falling for you series

573 notes · View notes

scorpioriesling · 3 months ago

Note

I need more smut with Ridoc Gamlyn or Brennan please I pulled an all nighter reading those-☹️

All The Wrong Right Places

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Ridoc x reader / Brennan x reader

Warning(s): 18+, mdni, smut, angst

Summary: You realize the very reason you might not be getting over one person is because you hadn't yet gotten under the right one.

SR’s Note: Okay this was much angstier than expected, however I am happy with how it turned out. I have also been waiting to use this song for a fic, and by the end of this one it only felt perfect for it, right?

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @freakishfandomfiend @lreadsstuff @desprrssooo-espresssooooo (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Your mind swam as your back hit the bed, Ridoc's familiar form sauntering toward you. The amount of alcohol you'd consumed is surely where you went wrong, as your usually sharp inhibitions were thrown right out the window this evening.

"C'mon, pull up that little dress -- just like we used to."

Your lip pulled between your teeth, and you reached for the hem of your sundress. The feeling was so familiar, yet so distant at the same time.

As you pulled the thin fabric up around your waist, Ridoc's fingertips brushed over your thighs, tracing up to the tops and squeezing. A rush of air whooshed out of you, and he smirked.

"Good girl."

Your thighs clenched, and he noticed. Slowly, ever so slowly -- he unzipped his jeans, slowly reaching inside in favor of pulling his erection free. Your mouth dried at the sight; it'd been so long since you'd seen him, felt him, and now as he stood before you...

"Spread those knees."

You did as you were told, parting your legs. He pushed them apart wider, moving to stand between them. You gazed wide-eyed up at him as he aligned his cock with your awaiting core, his half-lidded gaze as drunken as your own.

He pushed in with a languid thrust, shoving all the way to the hilt. You squeaked, and he groaned at the feeling.

"OH my Gods-" You moaned, feeling him as he pulled out and rammed his cock back in. His brows pinched at the feeling, and he began fucking you faster, harder.

"Yes baby, oh my... Gods,"

The pace he set was punishing, bruising -- and with every pump of his cock, a tiny moan would escape your lips. His hips continued to snap against yours, and soon his hands were beneath your thighs, pushing your knees up to your chest.

"Ridoc! Oh fuck-"

His cock reached the deepest parts of you, rubbing on your hypersensitive spot especially. You mewled at the sensation, and Ridoc sighed.

"Yes baby... cum right on my cock, baby."

Your eyes rolled back as your orgasm neared, and Ridoc's thrust began to grow sloppy. He grunted with each thrust, trying to hold onto his restraint. He reached for your breast, squeezing hard through the fabric of your dress.

"Oh Ridoc-"

Your face pinched as the waves of pleasure rolled through you, your walls squeezing Ridoc's length. He gasped at the feeling, his own orgasm washing over him and coating your inner walls. He fell forward, heaving as he braced himself on hands framing your head.

For a moment, the alcohol subsided, and you looked up into his eyes; eyes that once, you could say you loved. But, after everything that happened... you weren't sure if you'd say it again. However, the way he was looking at you, gazing into what felt like your soul...

"We should get dressed."

And just like that, the spell was broken. Just like it had been so many times before.

You nodded silently, a growing lump taking form in your throat. Tears stung the backs of your eyes as he casually rolled off of you, standing once more to re-zip his jeans. You rose slowly, angrily shoving your dress over your thighs once more.

He had the audacity to wink at you before turning to make way for the door.

"I'll catch ya later, peach."

A single tear slipped as he cleared the doorway, closing it softly behind him. You angrily bat it away, hating the effect he still had on you after all these years.

Instead of crying alone in a random room at some rando's party -- you stood, smoothed your dress, and went straight for the door.

✧･ﾟ: *

When you and Ridoc broke things off the first time, it was hard. You really felt that you had love for him, but his constant absence made you feel well... lonely.

The same thing happened the second time around. The sex was great, exactly how you liked, but you still felt his asence, even when he was around.

It was no different the third and final time, when the two of you heartbreakingly cut things off before he left on yet another mission without you.

But somehow... you always crawled back to him.

He was intoxicating, and sure -- you mainly hooked up out of drunken neediness, but this time, something had changed. When he used your old nickname, you didn't feel as lonesome as you had before. He felt truly there, like maybe he'd want another shot at things.

However, that hope was dashed the following weekend.

You'd merely stepped one foot inside the bar when you saw it. Sure enough, Ridoc sat near the DJ at one of the high-top tables, but this time he wasn't alone.

On his lap, a thin, barely-clothed blonde sat -- and her lips were attached to his.

You turned and bolted.

✧･ﾟ: *

You ran all of two blocks before you had to stop. Not because you couldn't continue -- Hell, you were a rider. Of course your endurance was up. You could thank the falling tears and racing heart for the pause in step.

The rain fell, only dampening your hair in its light mist at first. But, as thunder cracked overhead, the tears began to fall harder. Rain dotted the tops of your shoulders in a quicker cadence, some droplets bouncing off and splashing on the cobblestone below. Your throat burned as you held back the sob trying to rip itself free, and you wrapped your arms around your middle to try and ward off the cold.

The part of town was familiar, yet quiet as you continued to walk. To where? You weren't sure. All that mattered was that you ended up far, far away from him.

A mile later, you stopped to take a breather. Your hand splayed flat along the outer brick wall of one of the local businesses, and your breaths came in short pants. Little puffs of steam came out with each exhale, and you could barely open your eyes in the pouring rain.

However, when the front door of the shop opened and your best friend stepped out, your focus zeroed in right on him. His concerned look had your heart squeezing, and you completely lost it when he wrapped his arms around you.

"Come on -- let's get you out of all this."

✧･ﾟ: *

"So let me get this straight. The two of you..." Brennan gestured his hand, trying to piece together your story. You nodded silently, and eh raised his eyebrows.

"Damn... and then you found him at the bar..."

You nodded again, the tears only just drying on your face. You sat before the fireplace in Brennan's room, wrapped in his favorite blanket. He'd been kind enough to lend you a shirt, and you took it eagerly considering you were otherwise soaked.

He sighed, shaking his head slowly. Your heart still remained in pieces, especially as you watched your best friend expressed his pity for you.

"Damn, Y/N.. I-I'm so sorry."

You looked sidelong at his blank expression, and then turned to face him fully.

"You don't sound surprised."

He shrugged, loosing a long breath before his eyes met yours.

"I mean... I'm not," he admits. Your eyes widen in sadness, and he places a gentle hand on your knee.

"No! No not like... that, I just mean I'm not surprised because, well," he fumbles, and your eyes soften. "He's lost you so many times, and he just... he knows he can always get you back, you know? You're so sweet to him, and I mean, I get it, it's just... it sucks you know."

You raise an eyebrow, and he grins sheepishly.

"What sucks?" You ask softly. His eyes focus in on a stray lock of hair, and his fingers move to gently push it behind your ear.

Maybe... all the shattered pieces in your chest aren't so shattered.

"I just mean... there's a lot of other guys out there, ones that would care for you in a different way than he did." He explains, his cheeks reddening. Your brows raise as a short laugh escapes you, and he chuckles along with you.

"Oh yeah? You wanna clue me in on who they may be?" You say, smiling at him. The firelight highlights every strand of red in his hair, and for the first time, you can count every freckle dotting his nose and cheeks.

His smile softens as his eyes search yours.

"Well... I can tell you one," he says softly. You hadn't realized how much you'd leaned in as he spoke; that was until you were practically sharing breaths.

"Might be easier... to just... show you-"

You barely let him finish before you closed the gap between the two of you, lightly pressing your lips to his. He inhaled in surprise, but all you could do was feel every butterfly taking flight in your tummy. His lips were soft, warm -- exactly how he'd always made you felt.

Safe.

Wanted.

Enough.

His hands moved to softly cup your face as his mouth moved, continuing to kiss you. You breathed him in, relishing in the moment, realing in the new.

You adjusted to shed the blanket, moving to sit atop his lap instead. His hands slipped to lay atop your thighs, brushing over the bare skin there. His mouth opened, allowing for you to slide your tongue between his lips. You explored with fervor, tilting your head as you leaned into him. His fingertips pressed against your thighs, climbing up to rest on your waist as you continued to kiss.

"I... Y/N... Gods I've waited so long," Brennan sighs breathlessly. You wind yoru arms around his neck, gazing down half-lidded at his admission. You reposition on his lap, not meaning to but untimately placing your center just atop his length. He hisses, his fingers squeezing your waist in warning.

"I don't want to do something you're not ready for," he says, and your heart swells with emotion.

"I think I've been ready for this for longer than I realized," you whisper, biting on your lower lip. "I... Ridoc, he was..." you pause, feeling embarassed. Brennan brushes a thumb over your cheek, pulling your attention back to him again.

"Y/N, I don't care if he was your first," he kissed your lips. "Your most recent," he kissed you again. "Or the only guy you've ever been with." One more kiss. "I've only ever wanted you; I want this to be perfect with you."

Tears welled in your eyes as you stared wide-eyed at him, and he offered you a small reassuring smile. You knew what you wanted, and needed; and in that moment you were prepared to take it.

He laid back, pulling you atop him as he continued the kiss. You groaned into his mouth when his cock lurched against your core, sending a thrill through you that you hadn't truly felt in a long time.

"Brennan..." You sighed as he pulled away, his hands working to remove his sweats. When all that separated the two of you was mere underwear did he kiss you again, hungrier.

"Gods," he said between kisses. "You're... you're perfect."

You giggled, lifting one knee to shimmy out of your undies. You sat again slowly, the anticipation of your skin on his more than you'd expected.

He sharply inhaled when your core pressed against his hardening erection, and you couldn't help but smile like a cat at the reaction. His hands reached for you again, pulling your lips back to his. One hand reached around you, moving to align his erection with your wet core. You broke the kiss as his tip pushed against your hole, his other hand cupping half of your ass.

You sucked in a breath when he pushed in -- and damn he was big.

"Gods... you feel so good," he groaned, slowly pushing his length up into you. Your eyes closed as your head fell back, relishing in every inch he gave you. When you sat flat on his hips, he used both hands to grip your ass, lifting you off halfway before allowing you to fall back down on it.

"Brennan... yes," you gasped, using your leg muscles to work in moving you up and down on his cock. His breaths came out short as you continued bouncing on him, slowly taking every inch.

Your orgasm was building, and Brennan could feel it; he gently guided you to lie atop him once more, repositioning his feet to plant flat on the floor. When you had also gotten comfortable, he thrust his hips up, driving his length deeper into you than it had gone before.

"Brennan!" You yelped, your mouth falling open as he continued to pound into you. His brows knit in concentration as he continued to drive it home, your impending orgasm nearing its peak.

"Let go for me," he said softly, leaning up to gently kiss your lips. "My sweet little peach."

It wasn't long before you came undone atop him, and him following suit after. The air in the room was thick with the scent of sex, the fire still burning bright on the opposite wall. A small smile spread across your face as you gazed down at him, his hands lightly training up and down your sides. Everything he'd said that evening kept replaying through your mind, the pieces of your heart reconnecting with every phrase he'd uttered.

And by the end of the evening, you'd decided you didn't dislike the old nickname -- you just preferred hearing it from someone else.

✧･ﾟ: *

#brennan sorrengail imagine #brennan sorrengail x reader #brennan imagine #brennan sorrengail #the empyrean #iron flame imagine #iron flame #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing smut #fourth wing #onyx storm #ridoc smut #ridoc x reader #ridoc gamlyn #ridoc fourth wing

215 notes · View notes

telephoniii · 5 months ago

Text

i just got an idea but idk how to turn it into a full blown fic

Tyler the Creator’s last verse of Judge Judy as the Prefect’s fair well letter to NRC before going home?!?!?

“Sorry that I haven't been communicating much. This past year has been rough. It spreaded to my head“

After experiencing overblot after overblot, the Prefect’s mental health had taken a noticeable toll. Who used to be the cheerful, optimistic and a bit ditzy Prefect of Ramshackle had turned into a more reserved and quiet individual.

It wasn't a necessarily bad change, you needed to be somewhat reserved in order to survive at NRC. However, many of your friends couldn't help but mourn the loss of innocence.

Specifically Ace, Deuce, and Grim. The three who’s seen you from start to end.

“I knew it when we met, if you're reading, it's too late. I'm on the other side, but I just wanna say.”

You were aware of this switch in yourself. It was hard not to recognize it. Your thoughts became much less hopeful and more realistic. With those realistic thoughts came the truth.

You were never going to stay here forever. You couldn't.

Back at your home, you have so much to live for. So many friendships to amend, so many family members to look out for. No matter how much you adored NRC and the bonds you cultivated, this wasn't your world. And it would never be yours.

After Crowley had officially found you a way home, you told him that you wanted to keep it a secret. You weren't going to tell anyone that you were leaving. Not Grim. Not Tsunotarou. Nobody.

You didn't want their last memories of you to be this shadow of your former self. The corrupted Prefect. No. You wanted it to be that starry-eyed student that saw the best in them at their worst times.

And you planned on doing so through these letters. They wouldn't get it till after your leave, Crowley promised that.

“Thank you for the moments I could grab before I left. I hope you live your life, your truest self with no regrets.”

Despite your deep desire to leave, you really did cherish them and the memories you made.

You’ll miss the fancy tea parties Heartsbyul invited you to.

You’ll miss watching the Savanaclaw boys practice.

You’ll miss helping out at the Monstro Lounge with Octavinelle.

You’ll miss setting up parties at Scarabia.

You’ll miss the impromptu makeovers you’d get from Pomefiore.

You’ll miss pulling all-nighters watching anime at Ignihyde.

You’ll miss inviting the members of Diasomnia to Ramshackle.

You’ll miss Grim.

Sincerely, you hope them all the best. Especially the overblotters. You’ve seen how amazing all of them could truly be.

With all your heart, you hope they go on to live their best lives, even if you can’t be in it.

“I wasn't living right until they told me what was left. I'm wishing you the best,”

The only ‘people’ you confided in about these feelings were the Ramshackle ghosts. While Grim was out cold, you sat on the dinky couch and vented to them.

Thankfully, they understood. Some even shared a few stories of their own. Hearing the tales of their past lives and families increased that aching feeling in your chest.

That night you left, the ghost wished you the best.

‘Don’t forget the lives you’ve changed here. You’re truly incredible. Thank you.’

With a hug, you disappeared behind the mirror for good.

The next day, students from all dorms received a letter dedicated to them.

“P.S, Thank you for not judging, Judy.”

‘P.S, Thank you for welcoming me into your world, Prefect :)’

That was the last sentence of each letter.

This turned out kinda cheesy but I HOPE YOU SEE THE VISIONN. Maybe it’d be interesting to write the NRC student’s reaction to the letter or something idk. I hope you have a good day :>

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x you #twst x yuu #twst wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x reader angst #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland #twst x you #twst fanfic #twst wonderland #twst #disney twst

278 notes · View notes

midgarangel · 22 days ago

Note

Hiii, I didn’t see the one u wrote abt noctis, but I would like to give u a suggestion in case u still planned to do it, maybe something like he gets jealous of u w other guy and the mc finished sucking him off or smthing like that. Btw I love sososo much all ur fics and u have such a good taste !! Tysm for everything ^_^ ♡

ꗃ seven minutes | noctis

summary: partying was never your forte but you find yourself at one with the crown prince, who you happen to have a crush on.

contents: nsfw! noctis x fem reader! p*rn w plot, smut, noct is jealous, secret crush, drinking games (they’re not drunk), seven mins in heaven, oral (both receiving), penetration, semi public sex, alt universe kinda, prompto, luna, and cindy mentioned.

words: 10k…damn i went crazy.

authors note: you’re so sweet, tysm for requesting this!! jealous noct was such a good idea, i hope it’s similar to what you had in mind <3 i couldn’t resist adding some kind of plot lmao.

—

It started out as a simple favor for a friend. You were never really the type to spend your weekend partying and drinking in some house on the outskirts of the kingdom, but the crownsguard trials had just ended, and the past week was spent pulling all-nighters. Studying in the library had left you feeling utterly drained. You usually preferred the quiet and peaceful serenity of curling up with a good book in your room, or the occasional coffee and bookstore date with Cindy and Luna. But tonight, you found yourself in the unlikeliest of places, all because you had promised Luna you’d help her ‘unwind’ after a stressful week.

The bass thrummed through the floorboards, rattling the plastic cups strewn across all visible surfaces of what appeared to be an extremely packed house. Everywhere you looked, you could see other people at ease—laughing, dancing or playing drinking games to take their minds off of how badly they’d gotten their asses kicked by the trials.

Luna was in her element. She was always the more social of the two of you, and she already had roped you into drinking with her. She grinned over the rim of her cup, nudging you with her elbow as she shouted above the music.

“Wow, so many people came out tonight!”

You nodded, scanning the crowded space with a contemplative gaze. Some faces were familiar, most were not. Citadel was a huge city but you were among a smaller cohort of future advisors, with whom you shared most of the same interests with. It was unsurprising that you didn’t see many of them here tonight.

Except for one—no, two—standing at the far end of the room leaning against the wall, looking just as out of place as you felt. It wasn’t the fact that you recognized them or that you felt your heart flutter inexplicably in your chest. No, it was the fact that among them stood Noctis—the guy you’d been silently crushing on for a year now. Not to mention he was the crown prince.

For a moment, you considered looking away and pretending you hadn’t seen him at all. It certainly would’ve been easier that way, instead of having to admit that you were staring at him in a very obvious way. But your gaze lingered, unable to take your eyes off of the way his fingers gently grasped the red solo cup in his hand, the way his black hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d either run his hands through it multiple times, or he’d just rolled out of bed and was dragged here, just as you were.

The latter was most likely. In the times you had seen him around the city, whether it was in passing, in the library, or out by the docks fishing, you’d find him either zoning out or completely locked in on what he was doing. You always found the sight endearing and slightly hilarious.

Despite the fact that you’ve spent the better part of a year admiring him from afar, you hadn’t really talked to him much at all. The boy standing to his right, looking much happier to be here than Noctis, was Prompto, who you were much more familiar with.

There had been more than one occasion in which you had to borrow one of his cameras for a project or had been recruited into a study group with him and others in the library. Therefore, your sort-of acquaintanceship, sort-of friendship with Prompto had begun to blossom over time. The fact that he also happened to be Noctis’s best friend was really just a coincidence.

And the fact that Noctis’s blue eyes had now caught your gaze from across the room, and was staring right back at you? That was just poor luck.

You could feel the flush creeping onto your cheeks as you quickly looked away, back to Luna who was now dragging you through the sweaty crowd to refill her cup with the suspiciously strong and not totally horrible tasting jungle juice. You let her refill yours without much protest, though you could still feel eyes burning through your back as you handed her your cup.

“Who’s the guy?” Luna asked, her smile almost teasing as she clinks your plastic cups together before taking a large gulp. She never misses a thing. She knew exactly who he was.

You fake shrugged, forcing yourself to not crane your neck around to stare at the pair again.

“Huh? Oh, just someone from my program. You’ve met Prompto, right?”

He’s definitely come by your apt before to swap cameras, although the interactions were often brief, but polite. Still, you’d be surprised if she didn’t know who he was by now.

“I know Prompto,” She nodded, her eyes crinkling with an almost amused expression, “But I was talking about the hottie standing next to him.” She said, still acting oblivious. She just wanted to hear you finally admit it after all these months.

Your cheeks flushed an ever deeper shade of red. At the sight, she chuckled and exclaimed.

“I knew it! You do have a crush on Noct!”

“Luna!” You hissed at her, but thankfully the sounds of the party drowned out the noise.

It was hardly a secret to Luna that you had a crush. You just never found it pertinent enough to actually warrant a conversation about it. It’s not like you stood a chance with him anyways. He was quieter, yes, but there was no denying that he was popular. He was next in line to become king. Noctis was rarely alone, without Prompto or other members of the official crowns guard following closely behind him. The times you did catch him alone were usually in the library while he was knocked out, and you were trying to find your next read.

Ok, so maybe it was more of an obsession than a crush, but you’d always assumed you did a good job of hiding it. Clearly, you were wrong since it didn’t go unnoticed by Luna. But who could blame you, when Noctis looked like that?

“I can definitely see the appeal,” She smirked. Before you got the chance to reply, she cut you off and asked, “Why don’t we go over there and say hi?”

Your eyes widened, your heart skipping a beat at the idea. Say hi? Now? You’d barely spoken a few full sentences to Noctis in the year you’ve shared trials with him. What the hell would you even talk about here, in a smoke-filled, loud house basement?

“Are you serious?” You almost scoffed at her, shaking your head in vehement objection. “No way! Absolutely not—”

But before you could reject her proposal, she had already started to drag you by the arm, shuffling past scantily clad bodies on the dance floor, to the opposite end of the room. A part of you considered running away right then and there, but the moment Noctis popped back into view, your brain stopped functioning. The sight of him leaning against the wall so nonchalantly in his black tee and dark washed jeans, his head thrown back in a laugh from something funny Prompto must have said, had left your gut stirring and your mouth going dry. You weren’t nearly drunk enough for this.

Prompto spotted you first, his face visibly lighting up as you and Luna slipped past the beer pong players and approached them.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming out tonight.”

You forced yourself to smile, purposely avoiding Noctis’s eyes as Luna’s hand still gripped your arm.

“Oh, hey Prompto. Yeah, I'm here with my friend. You remember Luna, right?”

He nodded in recognition and Luna dropped your hand to wave, her grin infectious, “Nice to see you again.”

Prompto suddenly turned to Noctis, his tone lilted playfully, “Noct, you know her, right? She’s in trials with us.”

Noctis stiffened ever so slightly, his hand tightening around his cup as the attention was brought back to him. The movement was so miniscule, you doubted anyone else had noticed it but you. When his eyes suddenly met yours, you were struck by how breathtaking they were, how they almost seemed to swallow you whole, forcing all semblance of speech or thought out the window along with the rest of your ability to reason. You were left breathless when he spoke, his voice deep and measured.

“Yeah, I know her.”

He knows you. You opened your mouth to speak, unsure of what to say next, but the words died on your tongue. That was it? No elaboration? Even Prompto had expected Noctis to say more, but when he didn’t, Prompto awkwardly cleared his throat and looked back at you and Luna with an almost sheepish expression.

“Right…well, I’m glad you guys could come out tonight. So how do you think you did on that makeshift mission?”

The conversation continued, but Noctis’s attention was already directed elsewhere, as the nearby sound of chanting from other students participating in a drinking game filtered above the blaring music. You watched as he shifted his eyes from yours, almost purposefully not looking in your direction. You weren’t sure why it bothered you as much as it did.

So, as the night progressed, you, Luna, and Prompto continued to converse. You made it a point to not bother attempting to include Noctis in on the conversation. Not that he seemed particularly interested in it anyways. Maybe it was the alcohol starting to infiltrate your system, disinhibiting your usual introverted personality, or maybe it was just the fact that he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but beside you, and your already fragile ego had been wounded. Regardless, your laughs came easier, your smiles wider, your demeanor overall more friendly and familiar with Prompto as you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder when he said something funny, your eyes softening when he said something sweet.

If either Luna or Prompto seemed to notice the difference, neither of them commented on it, though Prompto didn’t seem to mind the subtle flirting. It wasn’t your intention to do so out of pettiness. Prompto was cute, and he did seem to like talking with you. But he wasn’t Noctis, and both you and Luna were well aware of that fact, since your eyes would occasionally and inconspicuously veer towards Noctis, who continued to lean against the wall, looking rigid and impassive.

Eventually, the sound of chanting in the next room grew louder and Luna arched an eyebrow.

“Sounds like they’re having fun over there…you know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play drinking games.” She said, nudging you with her elbow.

Prompto smirked, “Is that so? Maybe we ought to change that.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Noctis’s back straightening at the comment, the liquid in the drink he’s been babysitting sloshing around uneasily. You leaned a little closer to Prompto then, your shoulder grazing against his arm as you roll your eyes.

“I’ve played drinking games before.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Prompto asked, his tone teasing, “Never have I ever? Two truths and a lie?”

Luna giggles at his comment, and you can't help but snicker in response, “No, smartass, this isn’t high school. I mean real drinking games.”

“Well, I’m down if you guys are down,” He offered, to which you can only look nervously at Luna. You knew automatically that her response would be a quick and resounding yes, but you still felt apprehension, especially when Prompto nudged his stoic, stupidly handsome best friend who’d barely spoken a word.

“What do you think, Noct? You wanna join us?”

You held your breath and waited for Noctis’s response as he shrugged nonchalantly, looking almost bored as he answered,

“Sure, I guess.”

Both you and Luna blinked at him, surprised. Neither of you were expecting him to agree. Another round of cheering from the room forced you to look away. You took another long sip of your drink to steady your nerves, though seeing Noctis push himself off the wall so effortlessly, stalking over to where the commotion is coming from, made it just a tad bit more difficult to ignore the thumping of your heart against your ribcage.

The four of you walked up the stairs to enter a crowded living room where everyone sat in a circle, the music blasting through a bluetooth speaker. You shuffled past the people blocking your view in the congested hallway, accidentally brushing your hand against Noctis’s when you stepped into the room—the slight contact sending shockwaves through your body, forcing you to sharply pull away as if he burned you.

It was only then that he finally looked at you, your bodies practically squished together as you tried to adjust your standing position to give him some room. The moment his eyes flickered to yours, you felt your breath hitch in your throat, the sudden close proximity making your pulse quicken. Up close, he looked even more striking. The air was suffocating, and you realized when Luna pressed her body against you from behind, that there was simply no room for you to scurry away, no place to hide in and wait for the partygoers to eventually leave.

This room was even more full than the rest of the house, with people jam-packed together like sardines. When a couple emerged from a nearby closet, their clothes disheveled, lips swollen and breathing heavy, you understood why the sound of cheering was so loud before.

Noctis turned still as a statue, his eyes peering over you with an unreadable expression. For a moment, you were sure he was going to finally say something, but the overhead lights of the living room flickered and your attention was momentarily diverted.

The other students, crouched around the circle with an empty bottle centered between them, notice his presence. Noctis, being the popular guy he is, is immediately called out.

“Look who it is!” A girl you didn’t recognize smiled at him coyly, and you were once again made aware of how out of place you seemed to be. “You’re just in time! We’re starting another round of seven minutes in heaven.”

Your stomach dropped, not just because of the fact that Noctis was immediately dragged into the shenanigans—of course he would be, he’s the prince, he’s good-looking, and people eat up that brooding quiet charm like dessert. You hardly know the man standing beside you at all.

Luna, standing conveniently behind you, had lightly shoved you. The force propelled you forward, causing you to stumble into the circle, making your presence known.

“I-” Noctis started, shaking his head slightly as if to decline.

“Nope, no backing out.” Prompto pushed on his shoulder, almost knocking him into you. Prompto’s smile was mischievous as the girl finally acknowledged that you existed, scanning you up and down as he added, “You too. Time to prove that you can handle a real party game.”

You stammered out a protest, shooting Prompto a look that could set the house on fire, but the girl simply shrugged and said, “Sure, come on over.”

Luna beamed at you as you were forced into the game, watching the bottle spin round and round. The first couple chosen stayed inside the closet for the full seven minutes, and maybe a few seconds longer. The entirety of that time, the group had listened in, cackling as the sound of thumping against the walls of the linen closet and a loud moan were heard. You were utterly mortified having to sit there and watch the scene unfold. At least Noctis, who was sitting criss-crossed on the floor next to you, appeared to be just as uncomfortable as you were.

When the timer went off and someone knocked on the door, the couple tumbled out of it, looking pleased and flushed all at once. You quickly ducked your head when the bottle spun again, exhaling in relief when the next two people were called, and neither of them were you.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but you found yourself muttering under your breath bitterly as the minutes dragged on. “What a nightmare.”

Noctis let out a quiet laugh and your eyes widened, your head immediately whipping to the side towards the sound. “Tell me about it.”

Heat crept up your neck at the realization that it’s you he’s talking to. A small, lopsided smile tugged on your lips as you replied, “Well, you look as thrilled to be here as I am.”

A pause ensued, and for a split second you started to feel the fear flooding your nervous system once more. Had you said the wrong thing? Was he just trying to be polite? Does he secretly hate you, and that’s why he’s barely said a word this entire time?

“That obvious, huh?” He voiced after a moment, scratching at his nape. His fingers brushed against his disheveled, dark-colored hair. Your legs felt like gelatin when he smiled at you. It’s a small, almost strained smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Before you could respond, a loud voice cut through the music and chatter, “Alright, seven minutes is up!”

Someone stood to knock on the door and the game continued. You’re not sure how many couples had entered and exited the closet, nor how many minutes you’ve been sitting there, quietly reeling over the fact that Noctis actually spoke to you.

Eventually, when the bottle spins again and lands on Prompto, you're so swept up by that brief interaction with Noctis, that you didn’t even notice the second spin of the bottle, or the fact that it landed on you.

A hand shakes your shoulder, your face crumpling in confusion as Luna chuckles, “Your turn!”

“Wait, what?” You fumble over your words as faces you can barely place names to, hands you don’t recognize tug and pull on your body.

The shock is evident on your face as you’re pushed and shoved into a small, cramped space. Prompto’s body practically collides with yours before you even get the chance to fully register what’s happening. And yet, despite the staunch dismay and bewilderment of the situation, your eyes stay fixed on the only face in the crowd who doesn’t look as exuberant as the rest. As the door slammed in your face, the only sight you see, etched into your mind like a tattoo that will probably never fade, is that of Noctis clenching his fists at his side, his jaw tightened and his eyes displaying an emotion you’ve never seen on him before.

The light in the closet, a single, dimly-lit exposed bulb above your head flickered. Your heart stuttered, your body frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. You didn’t even try to move from that spot until Prompto cleared his throat, his cheeks tinged pink as he says, “Well…this took a turn.”

A deep exhale escaped your body, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in flowed through you and your back slumped against the wall. A part of you wanted to bury your head in your hands and groan, but you didn’t want to hurt Prompto’s feelings. This was the very last thing you wanted to happen tonight, and had you known while you were getting ready in the mirror earlier that evening that this was how the night would turn out? You would’ve kept your ass inside your room.

Outside, the party carried on, the sound of muffled laughter and drunken chatter seeping through the cracks of the door. Your hand reached for the door handle. Locked. Of fucking course it is.

“Umm…” Prompto spoke hesitantly, his eyes shifting away from yours as he too slumped against the opposite wall, his legs pressing against yours in the confined space, “Are you alright?”

You could’ve lied. Or you could’ve let the alcohol take over and just do what everyone expected you to do. But you didn’t do either of those things.

“Fine,” You croaked out, your mind still racing with thoughts of Noctis watching you being thrust into a linen closet with his best friend.

Why does it matter? Why would he care? He’d barely spoken a word to you all night—if you really wanted to let loose and forget about your stupid, pointless infatuation with him, this would be the perfect opportunity to do so. Yet, the iciness of his gaze, the cold, dead stare as his eyes met yours…something about it had set something off inside of you, flipped a switch you didn’t even know was there. Your body felt hot, too hot, and you couldn’t get the image out of your head.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Prompto offered awkwardly, his voice small as he finally met your eyes again. “We can just sit and talk, if that’s what you would prefer.”

You nodded and swallowed a lump in your throat. You’re unsure how much time had passed before you found your voice again. “I probably shouldn’t have come to this stupid party.”

Prompto didn’t reply right away. When he did, his eyes softened, “You’re not having fun?”

“No, not really.” You admitted, reluctantly. Another sigh escaped you, and although you know Prompto, know that he’s not the type to judge you or do anything untoward, your anxiety remains.

He probably sensed it, since he didn’t make any attempt at moving closer, nor pressing you for further explanation. He eventually let out a quiet chuckle.

“Yeah, I kind of figured that. Noctis isn’t really the partying type either. I’m guessing Luna is the reason you’re here?”

You let out a sound halfway between a scoff and a sigh, “Pretty much, yeah.”

He adjusted in his seat, his knees knocking against yours as he tucked his knees to his chest, allowing you more room so you don’t have to touch him. He really is such a gentleman. You almost felt bad for resenting this as much as you did.

“Can I ask you something?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

He nodded, prompting you to continue.

“Is Noctis usually like that?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, your cheeks heating at the mere mention of him.

“Like what?” Prompto arched an eyebrow, “Emotionless, with a stick up his ass?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, but his teasing does help relax you a little. “I was going to say quiet. He’s barely spoken a word all night.”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged, “Depends on who he’s with.”

You hummed in response, and when Prompto shifted his eyes back to yours, his smile curved slightly, as if he knew exactly why you’re asking, “He’s weird like that. It’s like he’s a different person around people he likes.”

“People he likes?” You repeated, hating the way your tone almost sounded hopeful.

“Not like that,” Prompto chuckled again, shaking his head, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him interested in anyone like that. Well…maybe one person. But he’s the type that likes to bide his time.”

You’re not quite sure how to respond to that. Your mind goes back to the that girl who seemed to know him but the fact that he responded to her makes you wonder. Is she that one person? Is he just not the type to date, after all?

You’d spent so much time watching him from afar, when you could’ve found out all of this information yourself. What good did it do, wasting your time yearning for him? Where did it land you? Here, inside of a closet with Prompto.

The topic shifted back to something more light-hearted as Prompto attempted to make you feel more at ease. It worked after a while, and the two of you fell into easy banter, joking about pointless topics. That is, until the seven minutes were up and the knock on the door came. Your body physically relaxed at the sound. Those few minutes felt like an eternity, and the last thing you needed was more teasing from the crowd. Thank god it’s over, you thought to yourself as it swung open, revealing the rest of the party leering over the sight of you.

Your eyes immediately fell onto Luna, whose grin stretched from ear to ear. Her smile dimmed, however, when she realized that not a hair had been moved out of place, not a stitch of clothing had come undone. It’s obvious she was hoping for a little bit of excitement to gossip about later tonight, while drunkenly walking home. You might’ve rolled your eyes at the pout on her face had you not noticed Noctis standing a few feet away, watching you. He leaned back against the wall as his arms crossed over his chest, his steely gaze fixed on you.

Your steps faltered, and your breath caught in your throat. Why was he looking at you like that?

Noctis had watched you disappear into that closet with his friend. Not only had you not volunteered to participate in the ridiculous game, but you weren’t even given the choice of entering the closet with someone of your own choosing. What had he been thinking, when he watched that door slam in your face? He couldn’t possibly care that much, not when he could barely stand to look at you, could barely breathe any utterances in your direction.

Prompto, stepping out behind you, let out a low chuckle as he stretched his arms, “I need a drink. You want one?”

You barely heard him, your frown deepening as Noctis walked away, disappearing into the crowd as he exited the room. What the hell was that?

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You heard Prompto say as he quickly shuffled out of sight.

Luna emerged at your side a moment later, looping her arm through yours as she cackled loudly, “Don’t tell me you just sat there and talked for seven minutes.”

Your face burned. “Shut up.”

She just laughed harder in response, shaking her head at you, “When are you going to learn to live a little?”

You rolled your eyes and ignored her comment, but as time passed and you continued to stand there, watching the ridiculous spectacle continue to unfold as more couples entered and exited the closet, you couldn’t stop wracking your brain over the strange encounter.

You tried to shake it off, sipping at your drink that Prompto had returned with, even smiling a little when Luna was eventually selected and winked at you before disappearing into the closet with some dark-haired stranger. Still, Noctis lingered in your mind—the fact that he hadn’t returned had stuck with you, as did the expression on his face when he left. You weren’t sure why you were still standing there. Maybe you were simply waiting for Luna to be finished. Maybe you were trying to convince yourself that you weren’t actually thinking about him.

Regardless, your attention was divided when Luna eventually came out with her lipstick smudged and a giggle at her lips. You smirked at the sight, and at the crowd whooping and cheering.

You didn’t notice the presence lurking behind you at first. It wasn’t until another hand was placed on the bottle, to spin it once again that you felt a shiver go down your spine.

“I’ll play again,” A low voice spoke above the chatter, and your body stilled at the sound.

You turned your head slightly, the air suddenly thick and charged with something you couldn’t name as your eyes met Noctis’s. The air was ripped from your lungs. Your heart stuttered. He didn’t say a word, didn’t acknowledge your presence as he turned to the girl running the game.

“Didn’t get picked the first time?” She teased, stepping back as he leaned down to spin the bottle himself. “Go ahead. Dealer’s choice.”

The entire group reacted instantly. A ripple of interest, some laughing, others watching intently. Even Luna’s eyebrows shot up to her forehead, watching with clear intrigue as the bottle spun round and round. Everything felt in slow motion, as if time itself had stopped the moment the bottle finally came to a stop, and all eyes flickered to you.

No. No, that can’t be right.

Your eyes lifted from the glass bottle, catching the flickering of the overhead lights reflected against its surface. There was no mistaking it. The bottle was pointed to you, and you alone.

For a moment, you wondered if Luna was playing a prank on you. You wondered if Noctis had made a grievous mistake and meant to land it on that other girl, who he clearly knows better than he knows you. But the second you faced him, the moment you saw the way his jaw had set, his blue eyes expressing something you couldn’t name, you were struck by reality like a slap across the face.

And in that moment where everything had paused, the only thing grounding you to the present was him. You couldn’t even imagine what your expression must have looked like as Luna’s hands began to push you forward, back into that small, restricted space. The strange thing about it was that he didn’t even look shocked. He didn’t seem surprised at all, when you went in there with him.

The door slammed shut and the force of it must have caused the single, exposed lightbulb in the closet to blow out, because you were suddenly entrenched in darkness. Your heart was beating so rapidly you were sure he could hear it, could feel the way your body burned beside him.

He shifted on his feet, unintentionally trapping you there in front of him. In the somewhat darkness, you could just barely make out the tips of his hair, or the blue of his eyes as they locked onto you. Your back pressed against the wall, and you could feel how close his body was to yours.

“The…the light went out,” You said foolishly, feeling the need to speak just to fill the silence. At least then, maybe he wouldn’t hear the shaky exhales escaping you.

“Yeah.” He replied, and the softness of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

You could feel the heat coming off of his body, though he wasn’t quite touching you. Even the noise of the party outside was drowned out by the sound of your shared quiet breaths and you silently prayed to whatever deity that might be watching your pitiful self flush scarlet, that he wouldn’t notice.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, his voice low and even, cut through the silence.

“We don’t have to do anything.”

Your stomach twisted, your nervousness palpable. The words were meant to reassure you, and on some level it did. But this was seven minutes in heaven and you were here with him . When else would you ever get this chance to be close to him again? What opportunities would you be rewarded, going back to admiring him from afar—your latent, hopeless crush?

“I know,” You said in response, your voice barely above a whisper. “Prompto said the same thing.”

Based on his reaction, it was probably the wrong thing to say. The silence thickened and the darkness amplified every sound—the slight rustle of clothing as he shifted again, the barely-there hitch in his throat. He was closer now, close enough that you could feel him towering above you, and if you moved just an inch, your chest would be pressed against his.

“Prompto, huh?” He spoke again, his voice lower than before, a slight rumble in his tone, “Did you want to be in here with him?”

Something in his tone made you falter. You could barely see his eyes in the dark, but you could feel his breath against your face now, could tell by his expression that the question wasn’t joking, nor was it casual.

Your tongue felt swollen in your mouth, your throat dry as you replied, “No, not at all. I didn’t want to be in here with anyone.”

Another pause ensued.

“But you’re here now.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat, “I am.”

Seven minutes. You had seven minutes to make the most of this opportunity. You knew logically that after tonight, you might never interact with Noctis again. Outside of this moment, with his breath mingling with yours in this tiny, cramped space—the warm air hitting your cheek as you gazed up at him—you might never have the chance to be courageous like this again.

“Noctis,” You began to say, noticing the way his body visibly stiffened at the sound of his name, “Did…you choose me on purpose?”

His breath hitched in his throat again, and for a split second, you immediately regretted asking the question out loud. It’s a stupid thought—he barely knows you.

But your anxious thoughts were laid to rest when he finally replied.

“What if I did?” He whispered, his hand coming to rest against the wall, effectively caging you in.

Your fingers clenched at your sides. You hesitated to speak, licking your lips before forcing yourself to breathe again, “I—”

The way he asked the question, soft and sure, sent a sharp current through you, curling at the base of your spine, making it impossible to focus on anything else. Heat rushed through you in a way you’ve never experienced before—a desire so formidable it took you by surprise, ripping the words right out of your mouth.

“I meant what I said.” He interrupted, his expression unreadable as his palm against the wall clenched to a fist, “We can just stay like this. No expectations.”

His body, still hovering over you, tensed. He hesitated, and in that brief moment of reluctance, you realized what was so difficult for you to see before. He chose this, chose you, for a reason. It wasn’t because of the alcohol, or the stupid game.

You took a deep, shaky breath, mustering up the confidence to look him in the eye to see a heaviness in his gaze that you’ve never seen before. You didn’t need to use your words to show him what it was that you wanted. You’d wasted enough time, trying to come up with the right thing to say, only to chicken out at the last minute. Slowly and unsure, you lifted your hand in the darkness, grazing against the fabric of his shirt. It was barely a touch, hardly anything. And yet, the moment you made contact, he froze.

For a moment, he was rooted to the spot, as if turned to stone. Then, as if a dam had burst inside of him, he surged forward. Something in him finally snapped and he pushed you back, pinning you with the weight of his body. The motion stole the breath from your lungs and you gasped when you felt the hard, solid heat of him. He used the opening without hesitation, his fingers tangling in your hair, tilting your head back as he leaned in.

“Tell me to stop,” He murmured feverishly, his lips centimeters from yours, “and I will.”

Stopping was the last thing on your mind. All you wanted, all you needed, was for him to keep going. Your lips parted, but no protest came. For once, you let your actions speak for you as you pressed your lips to his, lost in the heat of the moment.

It was a soft, tentative kiss. Your lips barely tasted his before he let out a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Before you got the chance to pull away, his grip on your hair tightened and he hungrily claimed your lips with his own.

It was heated, hungry and messy—and it was everything you had wanted and more. There was no hesitation, no room for second thoughts, only the inevitable. A soft, broken sound escaped you, and it wrecked him. He pulled you closer, his mouth moving against yours with a desperation that left you reeling, as if he were trying to consume every last piece of you. You deepened the kiss with an urgency that surprised you, your fingers gripping onto his shoulders as if to tether you to the present.

He groaned softly against your mouth, his tongue delving past your lips. His other arm circled around your waist, anchoring you to him as you slowly began to lose yourself in the sensation of him—his intoxicating scent, the hint of alcohol on his tongue, making your head spin. Your spine was practically glued to the wall, his body crushing you in a way that should’ve hurt in such a confined space, but the intimacy of it all only strengthened your hunger for him.

You should slow down before it goes too far. You should put an end to it before these seven minutes are up. You should stop before you're forced to face the world outside of this small slice of darkness, of depravity, that you could only ever experience in your innermost hidden fantasies. But the idea of stopping now, especially as Noctis’s knee slid between your thighs, nudging them apart as his hand slowly traveled down your side, was inconceivable to you.

His hips rocked against yours, the thick ridge of his erection grinding against the softness between your legs, forcing a low moan from your lips as your fingernails dug into the muscles of his back. His deathlike grip on your hair tightened as his mouth moved to your jaw, his breath coming in rapid pants as he nipped and sucked at the skin.

“Noctis…” you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

He shuddered at the sound of your voice, as if trying to reign in his desire. You whimpered, your head falling back against the wall as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. He panted against your skin, speaking rushedly in between kisses.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me? How much you occupy my mind?”

A rush of desire flooded you, centering between your thighs and making you squirm against his knee. You instinctively grinded against him, the damp fabric of your lace panties pressed first against the fabric of his jeans as your skirt lifted.

So much was happening, too much for you to reason or rationalize. You tore at him with an animalistic side of you you’ve never felt before, clawing at his back, rubbing against him, whining and whimpering as he nipped and sucked at the skin of your neck, down to your clavicle. You were sure, right then and there, that he was about to hike your skirt up and fuck you senseless against the wall. You couldn’t stand it anymore, and tugged impatiently on his own hair while he continued to fist yours, to bring your lips to his again. You needed to taste him, to savor him on your tongue, knowing you may never get the chance to do so again.

And in that moment your mouths collided once more, you felt yourself falling deeper and deeper into a hole you knew you wouldn’t be able to crawl out from. A part of you wondered if this was all a dream, if you’d perhaps drank way too much and passed out somewhere, dazedly fantasizing about this very scene. But reality came crashing down before either of you were ready, and a knock came at the door.

“Fuck…” You murmured when he finally lifted his head, his heavy breath mingling with yours.

When you finally caught his eyes again, the sight of him looking so thoroughly kissed, hair mussed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed with desire, nearly undid you. You could feel a sharp throbbing deep within your core, causing you to squeeze your thighs together. He groaned at the sensation, his knee still pressed tight against your soaked cunt, covered only by a ruined pair of panties.

The visceral unease his blue eyes had cultivated within you, the knot in your stomach, the slight tremble of your hands at the thought of his perfect, pale face contorted into something resembling pleasure because of something you may have done, had you thinking utterly sinful thoughts. But then the knock came again and Noctis let out a low, frustrated growl for an entirely different reason. The spell had finally shattered.

You started to push on his chest.

“Noctis, we…we have to-”

He didn’t budge. You were more drunk off of him than you were the alcohol, and even though the party outside was still ongoing and the seven minutes were over, some primal urge took over as his eyes stayed fixed on you, dark and full of lust. You barely registered what was happening when you saw Noctis lift his hand towards the closet door. For a second, you thought maybe he was going to open it and walk out, but he made no attempts at letting you go.

Instead, he pressed his hand against the door and you could see the lights from the cracks beneath it, filtering from what appeared to be outside.

“CROWN CITY POLICE! COPS ARE HERE! EVERYBODY OUT!”

The shout came from within the house and you could hear the chaos outside of the door. Your eyes widened in panic as you heard the rush of movement, followed by a chorus of shouting. You felt a pit in your stomach as you struggled to break away.

Noctis pulled his hand from the door to cage you against the wall again as doors slammed, and people scrambled out of the house. The party was emptying. You had to get out of there, fast, before the cops came.

You swallowed hard, your breath ragged and your entire body flustered and disoriented as you slowly pried your fingers away from his shirt.

“I…we-”

But before you could fully pull away to reach for the door, before you could put any distance between you, Noctis’s hand shot out again, threading his fingers through your hair and yanking hard, pulling you back to him. You gasped at the sensation, feeling a tinge of pain and desire as he cornered you against the wall again. Your body shivered as he leaned in close to your ear.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Your pulse roared in your ears, your body practically melting against his as he grazed your ear with his teeth.

“Noctis…”

His mouth moved down your neck without any rush or urgency. It was as if he was enjoying it—taking his sweet time in watching you fall apart.

The chaos outside had slowly faded until there was only silence—the two of you forgotten inside of this closet as the party cleared out. He didn’t seem to care at all that there were cops coming, although from the suspicious quiet, you couldn’t help but wonder…

The flashing of the lights from outside, the flickering overhead, and the blown out light of the closet you were trapped in…It all started to piece together.

He paused, letting the silence of the empty house sink in as he pulled away to look at you. No more shouting, no more rushing footsteps. You blinked, dazedly.

“There are no cops outside, are there?”

He softly shook his head, smirking softly as you finally pieced it together. You stuttered,

“Your powers-”

“Elemancy. Just a spell.” He finished for you, flickering the light of the closet back on, emerging you both from darkness. It was more apparent now just how close the two of you were. With his body crushing yours against him, his fingers still threaded through your hair, his mouth hovering above your own. “Magic, I guess.”

He devoured your lips again, tangling his tongue with yours. He wasn’t giving you a chance to breathe, to speak at all. The fact that he’d manipulated the situation to keep you here with him. He didn’t give a fuck about the party, he’d only wanted to prolong this moment of holding you in his arms for as long as possible, damn the consequences.

You let out a shaky sigh, clinging onto him with desperation as you kissed him back. You felt tears start to prick the corners of your eyes. After so long, to know that your feelings weren’t ignored, weren’t being rejected. It seemed too good to be true.

“Stay with me.” He murmured against your lips.

It didn’t sound like much of a request. It sounded more like a command, especially with the way he tugged on your hair, baring your throat to him and moving his lips there once again. His hips jerked forward and you could feel the way the softness of your body pressed against his erection, strained against the fabric of his jeans.

You let out a lewd sound, moaning loudly as he bit at a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. His hand slid under the hem of your skirt, fingers skimming along the smooth skin of your thigh, inching higher and higher until he could feel the heat of your pussy through the damp fabric of your panties. Noctis groaned into your neck, his hips jerking forward as he rubbed his fingers along your clothed slit.

“You’re so wet,” He whispered against your skin, his fingers teasing at your entrance as he pushed your panties aside, “Did I do that to you?”

You could only whimper in response as he continued to tease you. His other hand slowly moved from your hair, traveling under your shirt to feel the expanse of skin burning against his hand.

“Seven minutes is not nearly enough time for what I want to do.” He muttered, grazing his nose against your neck, inhaling your scent and reveling in the way you felt—so warm and soft, fully submitting to him.

“I—I didn’t think…” You shivered as his hand traveled up to the lace of your bra, teasing the edges of it, “you noticed me…”

He paused his movements then, his expression suddenly serious as he pulled his face from your neck, “How could I not notice you?”

You’re speechless for a moment, unsure of what to say when he slowly removed his hands from under your skirt, from the underwire of your bra. You almost whined in protest at the loss of contact, but when you saw him slowly sink down to his knees, your eyes widened.

Noctis’s blue eyes flickered up to meet yours as he knelt before you, blazing with an intensity that stole your breath. His cheeks were tinged pink, his mouth slightly parted, his eyes hooded. He looked almost delirious with his desire for you as he slowly trailed his fingers up your thighs, hooking around the waistband of your panties.

His touch lingered on your skin, and you gawked at him.

“I’ve noticed everything about you since the moment I first saw you.”

He slowly began to drag your panties down your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours as he continued to speak.

“I’ve noticed the way your cheeks flush when you’re nervous, how your eyes light up when you laugh,” He said in a low voice, tossing your panties aside carelessly, his hands gripping your hips. You could feel the heat of it, the promise of what was to come and you trembled in anticipation.

“I’ve noticed the way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating,” He pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh, “especially when you’re reading during trials”

Your breath hitched and he looked up at you again, smiling softly, “I’ve noticed you watching me sleep. Why else do you think I go to the library on weekends?”

You thought about stammering out a sheepish reply, a protest maybe. But then his mouth is back on your thighs again, his hands squeezing your hips as you look down at him.

“And I’ve definitely noticed the way you look at me,” His breath hovered over your bared center, so close to where you wanted him to be. “Like you wanna devour me.”

He leaned in closer, running his tongue along your soaked slit in a slow, teasing lick that has you gasping and fisting your hands in his black hair. He hummed in satisfaction at your reaction, his grip tightening on your hips.

“I wanna do the same.”

And with that, he delved in, his mouth latching onto your dripping cunt like a man starved. Your head fell back against the wall as a moan tore from your throat. He groaned against your pussy, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. He ate you out like he couldn’t get enough, like his sole purpose on earth was to be here, between your thighs. He’s determined to make you come as he focused his attention on your clit, sucking on it gently as his eyes flickered up to meet yours and you nearly came undone just like that—just from the sight of him on his knees, spreading you open and feasting on you with wild abandon.

At the same time, he slid two fingers deep inside of you, fucking you with his fingers and his tongue, as you bucked your hips against him, seeking that friction that made you lose control. You couldn’t help it. You felt your thighs start to tremble, your ragged breathing coming out in sharp gasps. You teetered on the edge so quickly and he knew it, doubling his efforts as his tongue moved against you faster, his fingers pumping in and out of you, all in an effort to feel you coming on his face.

You gripped his hair so tightly, you’re sure you’re probably hurting him. If he cared, he didn’t show it. He just moved faster, spreading you open with his long fingers, riding the waves of your pleasure as you shattered against his mouth. You could tell he enjoyed it by the way he was lapping at you like you’re the most decadent of wines, the most delicious nectar he’s ever tasted. He didn’t stop licking you, drinking in your ecstasy like he was addicted to it until your orgasm started to subside. He slowed the soft strokes of his tongue over your sensitive flesh, as he felt the way you clamped down around his fingers, pulsating and squeezing him tight.

“Oh…oh my god…Noctis,” You whispered shakily, your entire body wracked with tremors as he pulled his fingers out of you, sucking them dry as he finally moved away to breathe.

He looks so good like this , you thought to yourself—palming his aching cock in his jeans, face glistening with your release, gasping for air like he’s ran a marathon.

But he’s not done with you yet, and he wasted no time standing from his knees, mouth crashing against yours as his hands slid under your skirt to grip onto your ass, lifting you effortlessly against the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he practically manhandled you. You could taste yourself on his lips as he covered your mouth with his, moaning against your lips.

“You taste so good.”

He rocked his hips against yours. The friction of his hard, throbbing cock trapped in his jeans, rubbing against your bare pussy was absolutely maddening.

One hand slid up your side to wrap around your throat, his thumb brushing over your racing pulse point, not hard enough to choke you, but enough to remind you who was in charge here. He pulled you hard against him so you could feel every inch of his desire for you.

Almost crying out at the feeling, the denim of his jeans gree damp with your arousal.

He let out a deep, broken sound from the back of his throat. He reached down with his free hand, fumbling with the button of his jeans before popping it open and shoving them down enough to free his erection.

You watched as his cock sprung out, long and leaking with precum. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight.

He teased your entrance, coating his length with your slickness, and you gasped at the feeling, at the heat of his velvety skin as he slid against you, moving the swollen head against your clit.

“Oh…oh fuck…”

“Tell me you want it,” He demanded, his voice low and guttural as he squeezed your throat again. “Tell me and I’ll give you everything.”

You could barely speak, barely do much of anything but mewl and whimper against him as he claimed your lips again. Even if you could speak, you doubt you’d be able to say anything of substance, but he still wouldn’t fuck you—not until you verbally said yes, not until you made it clear this is what you wanted.

He kissed you sloppily, his fingers pressing against your neck as you mouthed feverishly, “Please…please-”

His hand moved from your throat to rip at your shirt, tugging the fabric up and off in one swift movement. He took a moment to just look at you, the way your chest heaved with each shaky breath, the way your skin reddened and your lips parted as you gasped for air. His mouth moved to the tops of your breasts, his hand caressing and squeezing the soft flesh through your bra, feeling your nipples hardening under his touch.

“I need a yes” He whispered sharply, moving his hand to guide his hard length to your entrance.

“Yes! I want it!” You practically yelled, impatient and needy. “Fuck…yes, please-”

He groaned, tugging your bra down to take your nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. You’re a shaking, moaning mess when he finally surged forward, slowly sinking your body down onto his cock. He barely gave you any warning as he buried himself inside of you with one smooth motion and you felt so full of him, so blissfully stretched open that you almost screamed out the wrong name again.

“Noctis!” You squealed, trying to control the volume of your voice, knowing there’s no more chattering or music to drown out the sounds of your pleasure.

The discomfort is there for only a second as you adjust to his size. He lets out a guttural groan, his lips releasing your nipple with a pop as he begins to give the other one the same treatment.

“God…you feel so perfect. Even better than I imagined.”

You clawed at his shoulders, burying your face against his neck as he pulled out to the tip before slamming your hips down onto him again. You whimpered as he set a brutal pace; The impact of him fucking up into you was hard enough to cause the hangers in the closet to fall off of the rod.

He growled against your skin, biting down hard enough to leave a mark on your neck.

“I’ve thought about this so many times, lying in bed at night, stroking my cock to the thought of you taking me like this, squeezing tight around me. You like it like this, don’t you?”

His hands gripped onto your ass hard enough to leave bruises as he pounded into you, the obscene sound of it filling the tiny room.

“Y-yes,” You admitted, the sound muffled as you sobbed into his neck.

His body was pressed so tight against yours that every moment he made inside of you, had his pelvis grinding against your clit, sending shockwaves of ecstasy straight into your throbbing cunt. You could hardly stand it, could hardly stand how rough he was being with you. You hadn’t anticipated any of this, but now that you’ve felt every inch of him, every ridge and vein of his cock sheathed inside of you, you couldn’t imagine ever doing this with anyone else.

“I wanted to be gentle,” He rasped greedily as he yanked at your hair again, tilting your head back to kiss you, swallowing your cries as he fucks you harder, faster. The head of his cock slammed against that perfect spot inside of you with each powerful thrust, making you see stars.

“I wanted to take my time with you and enjoy this, but I can’t wait any longer.”

“I…I can’t-” You tried to speak, but your words came out a garbled mess as he pulled his lips away, pressing his forehead against yours as he huffs into the air.

“Yes, you can,” He groaned, accentuating every word with a deep thrust, “You can take it, baby.”

The look of complete and utter desperation in your eyes must have set something off in him because he continues to feverishly rut into you, moaning your name in the most beautiful tone you’ve ever heard, his eyes pinching shut as his face contorted in pleasure. The sight of him so pussy drunk had you coiled so tightly, you felt ready to burst.

“Please,” You cried, lost in the haze of sensation, your voice echoing off the closet walls as your nails dug into his skin, “please don’t stop. I’m so close…”

He could feel you tightening around him, your legs starting to shake, your walls starting to flutter. His radiant blue eyes flashed with something almost animalistic as he kept his dick deep inside of you, grinding his pelvis against your sensitive clit with every shallow thrust until you felt your nerves set aflame.

“Then come for me,” He demanded, his voice raw and desperate, causing the last remainder of your resolve to snap. “Let me feel you.“

All in an instant, before you could even process it, your body seized and you came with a sharp, piercing cry, sucking him in with your throbbing cunt as wave after wave of the most mind blowing orgasm you’ve ever experienced, flooded your entire nervous system. You clung to him, trembling and mewling as you’re pulled under the waves of rapture, and you knew right then and there that Noctis had absolutely ruined you for anyone else.

He held onto you tight, his hand still fisted in your hair. His other arm wrapped around your waist as he emptied himself inside of you, capturing your mouth in a passionate, almost tender kiss—so unlike the harsh, feral and animalistic lovemaking from before, if you could even call it that. But as you both come down from your high, he doesn’t stop kissing you, doesn’t stop rocking his hips into you to prolong your pleasure as much as possible. He wanted to come inside of you but the pressures of being king one day lingered in his mind.

Noctis kept you there for who knows how long, softening inside of you as he gently lets you down from against the wall. You could barely breathe, could barely stand or move, but he’s so gentle with you as he helped you onto your feet, pulling out of you slowly. You winced from the sensitivity, the slight ache between your thighs, but he continued to kiss you as you felt the stickiness down your thighs.

“You did so good for me,” He murmured against your lips, his voice softer than before, his touch reverent as he caressed your damp hair back, out of your eyes.

“My good girl.”

“Noctis…” You sighed, your voice hoarse from all the moaning.

He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to your head.

“Yes?”

You looked up at him, seeing the loving gaze in his eyes, causing your heart to thump in your chest for an entirely different reason. He’s always looked beautiful to you, whether he was smiling at something stupid Promoto said in trials, or dozing off in the library. But here, you thought to yourself—drenched in sweat, eyes glazed over and a goofy smile on his face—he looks more beautiful than you’ve ever seen him.

“Can I taste you too?” You whispered shyly.

He shuddered as he felt you lightly tug on his cock, peppering his face with tiny kisses was enough for him to give in.

“You don’t have to…”

But you were already kneeling.

“Too late.”

With a soft giggle, you trace your tongue along the length of him. He reaches out, his fingers tangling gently in your hair, guiding it away from your face.

His voice is soft but commanding as he whispers, "Come up here for a second." Obediently, you rise to your knees, leaning in as he places two soft kisses on your lips. The gesture is tender, and intimate. It speaks volumes.

You lower yourself again, your lips hovering just above his dick. Starting at the base, you let your tongue glide upward, slow and carefully. The light touch is barely there, more a tease of your breath and warmth than anything else, but it’s enough to make his body jerk in response.

A broken whimper escapes his lips, his voice barely audible as he murmurs, "Fuck..." His restraint is fraying, unraveling with every flick of your tongue and every teasing kiss.

You smile, savoring the way his body reacts to your every move.

As your lips glide over the sensitive head of Noctis’s dick, you gently swirl your tongue in slow, deliberate circles. His sharp intake of breath is a symphony to your ears, and the low, strained sigh that follows makes your pulse quicken.

His grip on your hair tightens, the pressure both commanding and gentle, urging you to keep going. You slide your tongue down savoring the way his body reacts to every touch. Without hesitation, you take him deeper into your mouth, letting his length sink into the wet heat of your tongue and lips.

"Ahh, fuck," Noctis whimpers, his voice shaky and raw.

His hand presses against the back of your head, not forcefully, but with enough insistence to hold you in place. You fall into a rhythm, your mouth working diligently as you hollow your cheeks.

"Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me." Noctis’s quiet groans and labored breaths spur you on, each sound proof of his unraveling.

As your hands join in, massaging the base of his cock, you glance up to see his expression. His teeth are buried in his bottom lip, and his head is tilted back, eyes locked on the ceiling then instantly back on you. You started to swirl your tongue back and forth along his shaft as you took him a little deeper, letting his tip just kiss the back of your throat.

“Keep going…just like that.” His praise is everything and his voice is so raspy.

You hum in response, the vibrations making his hips buck against your flushed face. Your delicate licks turned into sloppy gags as he thrusted a bit faster to fuck your reddened little face.

He came down your throat with a low whimper as you tried to drink every last drop of him. You could hear a low shudder in his voice as he watched you lap up his cum.

He helped you up, pulling you in for a kiss. He could taste himself on your lips, a hazy smile on both of your faces.

“Let’s get out of here.”

After a few more pecks, and getting dressed, you and Noctis slowly exited the closet hand in hand.

—

#noctis x reader #noctis lucis caelum #noctis caelum #prince noctis #ffxv noctis #ff15 noctis #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy xv #final fantasy imagine #final fantasy smut #final fantasy series #noctis final fantasy #prompto argentum #lunafreya nox fleuret #cindy aurum #midgarangel

119 notes · View notes

aventurineswife · 5 months ago

Note

Howdy there! Can I request a suggestive fic with Kaveh where the reader tries their best to convince Kaveh to not pull an all nighter and exhaust himself out because of a big project he's been working on, so they take it upon themselves to try and convince him with sweet kisses and soft caresses! I just love the mental image of reader sitting on his lap and kissing him all over to convince him to go to bed so he can rest while they spoil him, because he absolutely deserves to be spoiled!!!!!.

Have a good day, and no pressure with making this <3

Tired Eyes, Tender Heart

Summary: Kaveh has been pushing himself too hard with a big project, ignoring his need for rest. His concerned partner tries to convince him to take a break, gently coaxing him with soft kisses and affectionate touches. Eventually, Kaveh surrenders to the warmth of your love and care, allowing himself a moment of relaxation and tenderness. In the end, it’s a night for Kaveh to receive the attention and rest he so desperately deserves.

Tags: Kaveh x Reader, Suggestive, Fluff, Soft Romance, Emotional Comfort, Slow Burn, Affection, Rest, Caregiving, Light Dom/Sub Dynamics

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Mild Innuendo, Emotional Vulnerability, Physical Affection.

It was late. The moonlight filtered through the half-open windows, casting long shadows across the room where Kaveh sat hunched over his desk, the light of his lantern flickering weakly against the sheer volume of blueprints sprawled across the surface. His fingers trembled slightly, not from lack of skill, but from the exhaustion that had taken over his body. Yet, the passion that fueled his soul refused to let him stop working. The lines on the parchment blurred, but his mind was alive with his grand designs. He had to finish this—he simply couldn’t stop.

But then, a soft voice broke through the storm of thoughts swirling in his head.

"You're going to burn yourself out, Kaveh."

You stood at the doorway, watching him for a moment before stepping inside. Your eyes softened at the sight of him—his hair disheveled, his sharp eyes weary yet still focused. You had seen him like this far too many times. He was always so driven by his ideals, always pushing himself too hard. The thought of him falling into a deep exhaustion, unable to recover, unsettled you.

"You know that this project won't go anywhere if you're too exhausted to finish it," you continued, your tone gentle but firm.

Kaveh let out a sigh, not bothering to look up from his work. "I know, but this... this needs to be perfect. Every detail matters."

You couldn’t help but smile at his dedication. His idealism was something that you admired deeply, but it also made him blind to his own needs. With a soft laugh, you crossed the room, kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"How about you take a break?" you suggested, your voice laced with sweetness. "Just for a little while. A moment to rest, so you can come back to this with a clearer mind."

He didn’t respond immediately, but the weight of your touch seemed to slow his hands. His eyes met yours for the first time in what felt like hours, and for a moment, you saw the weariness in them, the silent plea for someone to care enough to help him.

Before he could protest, you slipped onto his lap, straddling him gently. His breath hitched as you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. His body stiffened in surprise, but you stayed close, your warmth against his. The kiss you gave him lingered longer than necessary, a silent invitation to let go of the tension that gripped him.

"Kaveh," you whispered, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "You’ve been working so hard. You deserve a little rest. Let me take care of you."

He hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides as though debating whether to push you away or hold you closer. But then, as you kissed him again—this time on his lips, slow and tender—he gave in, his body relaxing under your touch.

You didn’t stop there. Your kisses became a trail down his jaw, along his neck, sweet and soft, coaxing him into relaxation with every touch. His breath grew shallow, and his hands finally reached up to rest against your waist, pulling you even closer. But you didn’t let him pull away from your affection.

"You've worked so hard, Kaveh," you murmured against his skin, nipping lightly at his earlobe. "But you can’t do it all alone. Let me spoil you for once."

Kaveh’s mind was swirling, and though his body still ached to finish his project, it also longed for the tenderness you were offering. He leaned back in his chair, allowing you to guide him into a position of comfort. You kissed him again, this time deeper, more insistent, as if telling him, without words, that he deserved to rest, to feel loved, to be cherished.

When you finally pulled away, he was left breathless, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed at you with a mix of admiration and gratitude.

"You spoil me too much," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

You smiled softly, brushing your hand through his hair, smoothing out the tension there. "You deserve it, Kaveh. You deserve every bit of rest and affection. Now let me take care of you. Just for tonight."

He seemed to contemplate your words for a moment, his hand finding yours and squeezing it gently. Finally, with a sigh, he nodded, his voice barely a whisper.

"Alright. You win."

You couldn’t help but smile at his surrender, glad that he’d finally let go. As he relaxed into your embrace, you kissed him once more, this time a soft promise to care for him, to ensure that he never forgot how deserving he was of love and rest.

Together, you guided him away from his desk, towards the warmth of the bed, leaving the plans behind—if only for the night. Kaveh had given so much to the world, but tonight, it was his turn to receive, and you were more than happy to spoil him as he truly deserved.

138 notes · View notes

lxffy · 27 days ago

Note

Hello! Could i get a marco x reader fluff, where the reader is an assistant doctor or like night doctor and is burning themselves out but hides well til they pass out in front of marco and marco got super worried and he takes care of them and freaking out like a mother hen. And when they wake he hugs them and goes plz take care of yourself i only have one you in this lifetime

☂︎ nevermore !

pairing: marco x gn!reader

notes: first time writing for marco … hope I did him justice! also I never know what to call this kind of post… is it a fic? maybe? yes? no?

In only a few days, an unknown illness spread like wildfire throughout Sphinx, preying primarily on young children and the elderly. Marco had quickly deduced it had transferred from a trading ship that landed a few days prior but would have never guessed it would take your small town by storm.

— the first night

It was the first time in a while that the two of you had to pull an all-nighter to care for sick patients. But the two of you were in sync, tending to patients with the utmost care and taking the right measurements to avoid getting infected yourself.

“Marco, where’s the extra antibiotics?”

“Right here, doc!”

Despite being his assistant, he always jokingly referred to you as ‘doc’ when the two of you were working, but the small smile that appeared on his face meant he truly admired your hard work.

But as the night turned into day, the two of you realized that the curtains of this epidemic were not falling anytime soon.

— missed check-ins

Days passed, and you and Marco were overwhelmed with patients from left to right. There was barely any time to rest—you were missing meals to take naps that lasted minutes before springing back up to take care of the next patient. The last decent conversation you had with Marco felt like ages ago, and only time could tell when you’d have another quiet moment with him.

You and Marco had designated times to check in with each other, but with so many patients that needed immediate care, the check-ins became scribbles on post-it notes scattered in the office. During a brief passing, Marco noticed something slightly off with your demeanor.

“Y/n, if you need a break, take one. You’ve been running around since—,”

“It’s okay, Marco. Don’t worry about me—see?”

You smiled weakly, trying to force your eyelids from drooping so low. You knew you could use a break, and yet the influx of patients was too great to ignore. Your only option was to keep on moving.

Marco frowned, wishing he was able to take on the burden himself. Just before he was about to say something else, another patient had walked in with a yelp. His face was plastered with worry as he glanced back at you, and you simply gave a nod of approval before heading to the storage to pick up some more supplies. You didn't want him to worry about you when there were patients' lives on the line.

— his regret

The long days of the mysterious illness were finally coming to an end, and with the help of a temporary assistant, the burden of the entire epidemic had slightly been lifted off of your shoulders. But before you could get to your last patient, your movements slowed and suddenly your world turned black. The last thing you saw was a frantic Marco headed your way.

He was absolutely distraught. He noticed your unusual movements from the corner of his eye, dashing in your direction with unrivaled speed when he realized you were fainting. Marco was never one to show his emotions so blatantly, but your limp body in his arms had his worst nightmares turning into a reality.

“Y/n? Y/n!”

You were alive—thank fuck. But you were knocked out cold which meant anything could happen. He placed the back of his hand on your forehead—a fever. How could he have missed this? His worries earlier were spot on, but they somehow slipped past him.

Marco was quick to take action. The remaining patients could be taken care of by the temp, so he took the responsibility of nursing you back to health. Within minutes, he’d gathered your things and took you back to your home.

As you slept, he took care of you with quiet fervor. He was never gone for more than a few seconds at a time, making sure he was watching your every move. When he settled beside your bed after changing your clothes into something more comfortable, he did something quite uncharacteristic.

Marco closed his eyes as his calloused hands gently brought your hand to his lips, and he murmured,

“Y/n, please—please, wake up soon.”

And as if on command, your eyes slowly opened. His head was down as he silently prayed for your good health. You watched him quietly, unaware that he could be such a worrywart. It made you laugh, but just the slightest bit.

“I’m right here, Marco.”

He lifted his head with such force, you'd think something had yanked his head up. But the look in his eyes told you everything. He carefully pulled you toward his body, his arms wrapping around you so tight that you thought he was trying to merge the two of you into one.

“You’re the only one I have in this life, Y/n. Please, promise me that you’ll take care of yourself.”

#one piece x reader #marco the phoenix #Marco the phoenix x reader #marco x reader #one piece marco x reader #one piece comfort #one piece fluff

110 notes · View notes

katzebruh · 3 months ago

Note

This reminds me soooo much of a fanfic called "Crimson Noire" on ao3, literally binged all 400k+ words of it in 3 to 4 days reading it in between classes and skipping sleep over it bc of how amazing it was.

Also I admit I might very scoured you entire acc for swapped au art 👉👈

Your art is amazinggg as an artist myself I wouldn't be opposed to anatomy tips

I remember that fic! I also binged the hell out of it, I pulled an all nighter haha ^^; while there's a lot of things that differ in my AU it was really nice to read a more serious kwami swap. Also the writing skill??? Chefs kiss, I can't write a paragraph I have no idea how they did so many chapters

I swear I'll do a masterpost soon so its easy to look through, I've just been awfully busy so I haven't been online

My anatomy isn't the best and low-key the best tip really is to just do life studies, what works for me personally for my style is muscle structure and merging them together to get easy shapes that are easy to replicate and modify, idk if that made sense it's 1am

64 notes · View notes

twst-aceofhearts · 8 months ago

Text

Take A Break!

a/n: you can't stop me from loving ace :) also epel fic is next @waterthatsmoe just for u <3

tw: Yuu overworking themself

pairing: ace x gn!yuu

words: 1049

taglist: @luxaryllis @thegoldencontracts @waterthatsmoe

Ace had noticed how Yuu had been helping multiple people with anything they need. He didn’t say anything at first, but he slowly noticed how you started to neglect your own needs.

Yes, he’s a bit of a troublemaker, but he still looks out for his friends. From his conclusion, Yuu is putting too much stress on themself. So, like a good friend, he brought this up to them. When they brushed him off, he got a tad bit annoyed. Like the stubborn person Yuu was, they tried to convince him that they were perfectly fine.

The dark circles under their eyes said otherwise. Ace saw how Yuu had been cramming test material lately because they didn’t have any time for themself.

Ace doesn’t like to be pushy, but Yuu’s behavior was honestly starting to get to him. Nonetheless, he didn’t want to leave them alone.

“Dude, this is how you make yourself pass out. Are you trying to get yourself a trip to the nurse’s office? Man, just put the book down!” He scolds them, trying to take Yuu’s pencil away from them. They’ve been doing Proffesor Trein’s assignment for the past hour. Ace tried to offer some help again, but it was met with a hard no by Yuu.

“I swear, I can’t tell who’s more stubborn: you or Riddle…That says a lot!” Ace grumbled under his breath before sending a glare towards Yuu. He was going to help them one way or another.

“Nngh…I’m not getting help from someone who has lower grades than mine..” Yuu huffed, groggily trying to take their pencil back.

“Seriously?! You’re going to use that stupid reasoning?!” Ace was not impressed, holding the pencil higher out of Yuu’s reach.

He scowls and looks away. “You’re not always this stubborn, you know?! You always help others and then you end up exhausting yourself. How many times have you overslept for class because you were pulling another all-nighter to study the night before?” He sighs, grabbing Yuu’s wrist and pulling it back down, stopping them from reaching for their pencil. “You’re not a machine, and you need to relax sometimes. Even Riddle does that every once in a while. So please, listen to me—just this once.”

Yuu stayed silent, their tensed shoulders slightly relaxing. They ceased their attempt to grab their pencil back, their hand falling limp in his grasp.

Ace sighs, slowly calming down. After all, anger wouldn’t solve the issue. “Look, I just want to help, Yuu. You need to get better at letting others assist you. If you don’t, you’ll get worse every time. You might even start developing anxiety if you keep putting so much pressure on yourself. It’s not healthy. It’s dangerous,” Ace frowns, his expression disapproving. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself because you’re being reckless.”

I…damn you and your..stupidly effective way of words…mmph..” Yuu huffed, pulling away their hand from his grasp, placing their hands on their lap. “...fine…I’ll take a break…”

Ace’s frown turns into a small smile. He slowly extends his hand, holding out their pencil to them. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

He sits next to Yuu, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head to the side. “...if you don’t mind, can I ask you a question? It’s not about your horrible study habits, so don’t worry.”

“...shoot,” Yuu sighed, gently rubbing their tired eyes.

“Why do you try so hard to help others? I mean, you barely have time for yourself and you’re still trying to be there for others. You’re the kind of person who always puts other first; you barely think of your own well being. Why?” Ace’s eyes slowly trail over Yuu’s face. The dark circles under their eyes were a little concerning.

“...You want the short version or the long one?”

“The long version, please,” He nodded, genuinely wanting to know what was going on through Yuu’s mind.

“...Back in my world I didn’t really have anyone to look to for help. Or..anything at all. It’s just me. I was alone. No family, no friends—I don’t want other people to go through the same things I did…” Yuu trailed off near the end, their tone becoming more reserved and their voice lowering in volume.

Ace stares at you for a moment, before sighing inaudibly. “I didn’t know,” He gently places his hand on your shoulder, giving Yuu a warm smile. “But, you’re not alone now. You have friends, you have me,” he ruffles your hair fondly.

“...it’s unsettling when you’re not acting like a troublemaker—being all cheesy like this instead.” Yuu blinked, closing their eyes for a moment, then opening them before they fell asleep.

He lets out a light chuckle, poking your forehead. “Heh, but that’s why you like me, don’t you?” He smirked, his usual carefree smile returned.

“Ah there it is….wait, where’d you get that idea from?” Yuu narrowed eyes, feeling their cheeks heat up into an “unnoticeable” pink.

He grins teasingly. “Well, you put up with me. And your face always turns pink when I’m being nice to you. Like now—it’s adorable~”

“I-...damn you…”

“Hehe, I’m a little correct, huh?” He laughs again, pulling away slowly. “Just relax for now, okay? Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Yuu sighed, too tired to care about his teasing remarks anymore at this point, standing up to sit on Ace’s bed.

Ace watched Yuu for a moment, before he followed behind them, sitting down next to Yuu. “Tired? If you are, you can take a little nap.”

Yuu nodded, thus leading to Ace gently laying Yuu down and tucking them into the covers. “After all this studying, you could use a small break. Besides, you look more tired than usual.”

Yuu let out a small hum, bringing their legs up and tucking their knees into their chest. “...Can you…” Yuu trailed off, feeling a sudden wave of shyness.

Ace smiled slightly, gently patting their head. “Yes, I’ll stay here until you’re asleep. Don’t worry about anything. Sweet dreams, idiot.”

Yuu let out a small huff. “The only idiot here is you…” They mumbled, burying their face into the pillow cover.

Ace laughed quietly, keeping a hand on Yuu’s head before he slowly started stroking their head. “Yeah, whatever….sleep well.”

credit to @cafekitsune for divider

#athena fics #twisted wonderland #twst #twst yuu #twst ace #ace trappola #ace x yuu

142 notes · View notes

cloverchameleon · 14 days ago

Text

It Has to be Perfect! Sonic Big Bang 2025!

This year I participated in a Sonic the Hedgehog Big Bang event via @sthbigbang as a fic writer. This will be my first time posting a fic to tumblr, so that'll be interesting. As part of this event, I collaborated with a few artists who've drawn some amazing pieces for this story!

@thekeerok [art link]

@chiaraeliz [art link]

@pyriteparasite [art link]

Beta read by @harthic

It Has to be Perfect! Pairing: Tangle/Whisper (IDW comics) Length: 7,141 words, oneshot Rating: G Summary: Tangle is a lemur on a mission. A mission to create one grand, absolutely perfect, peak romance date for her girlfriend, Whisper. But with so many wacky characters around, something is bound to go a little sideways - okay, maybe a lot of somethings. But she can salvage this! ...right?

[SPOILER WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE IDW SONIC COMICS UP TO ISSUE #75, INCLUDING THE TANGLE & WHISPER MINISERIES]

Jewel the Beetle flits comfortably through the familiar streets of Spiral Hill Village on a beautiful, quiet day. Every day in Spiral Hill tends to be very quiet – with a few very notable and extreme exceptions. It’s part of what she always liked about it, having as nervous of a temperament as she does; the slow, monotonous day to day of such a place, even from more of a leadership position, was always a cozy, manageable level of stress. And when anxiety makes a few misappropriated agates feel like the world crashing down, this place really did feel like the most she would ever be able to handle. It’s a little strange to be back here now, after everything she’d gotten wrapped up in and the genuine world-crashing stakes she’s had to lead people through. But just as much as this place has a comforting pillow-fort security to it to her, she knows one girl who finds that kind of peace and quiet stifling to the point of madness. In fact, that’s why she’s on a mission here now. It’s because she knows that Tangle the Lemur was coming home for a little while between adventures – and that if she hasn’t heard back from her, whining about being bored or cooking up some new thing to chase down, she may well have gotten caught up in another incident in this town’s sudden increase in incidents per year.

Jewel flies up to the door of Tangle’s home and gives it a nervous little knock.

“…maybe she’s not h-“

The door slams open. “HELLO?”

Tangle is wide-eyed, restless, disheveled. That sort of post all-nighter so-tired-it-looped-back-around-to-hyper jittery. “Oh, hey Jewel! I’m kinda busy – is everything okay?”

Jewel is taken aback – and not just the distance she had to get aback to dodge the door.

“I’m… fine. Are you?”

“I’m great – I’m so good! Oh! You like planning stuff! Come here, you’ll love this!”

“AAH!”

Tangle pulls Jewel along like a startled balloon into the house, excitedly rambling “I’ve been working on this for ages, but I’ve finally got every detail ironed out – it’s a foolproof plan, Jewel! Every possibility accounted for!”

“You… planned something?”

“Yeah!”

“In detail?”

“All the detail!! That’s why I wanna show you, you’re the most enthusiastic planner I know, I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of… this?”

Tangle trails off looking back at Jewel. Jewel in the meantime has snagged an umbrella and tearfully holds it overhead, ready to bash.

“Alright, shapeshifter – where’s the real Tangle?”

Tangle looks unimpressed. She plucks the umbrella away with her tail.

“I’m not a shapeshifter, I’m planning a date for Whisper. Do you want to see my cool plans or not?”

Jewel looks skeptical.

Tangle sighs. “When we were 9 you submitted an anonymous tip to the town newspaper to complain about the font choice for the new street signs and got embarrassed because everyone knew it was you.”

“It wasn’t a good font… Okay, fine, I believe you’re you. But can you blame me? I’ve never known you to plan anything in high detail. Do you usually do this for dates?”

“Only when it really matters.” Tangle flings the umbrella to go crash into some other part of the room that can be a later problem. She opens a door and triumphantly bounces in. “Check it, Jewel!”

Jewel’s eyes widen taking in the scene.

“Oh… oh my.”

“BAM!” Tangle throws her arms open wide, slapping the wall where she’s set out a conspiracy board of sorts – pictures, notes, printed reviews and menus, a big world map festooned with little doodles and pins – even bits of red string that don’t seem to be actually connecting ideas to each other. Simply there because boards have red string.

“I’ve been working on it all week! Ha-HAH! It’s gonna be GREAT!!” She grins and bounces in place. “I’ve been reading a ton of articles about all the most romantic places and things in the world – I’ve become a whole romance-ologist!”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

Jewel’s quiet objection is completely bowled over by Tangle cartwheeling to the far end of the chart and carrying on. “But I hear ya, Jewel – ‘Tangle, these are all over the place! There’s no way you can do them all in one date!’ WRONG! Cause Tails gave me this!”

She whips out a small, yellow-orange remote control, with a zig-zaggy antenna with a ball on the end, a little keyboard and screen, and a tiny little fox nose and whiskers decal on it.

“This bad boy’ll let me put in the coordinates of anywhere on the planet and zip-zap-zop, there we are!! He said – he said, uh – that’s it! He said:

‘That multi-portal Eggman and I built with Starline’s weird tech got me thinking. We have friends all over the world – Sonic’s fast, but even he gets tired running back and forth across the whole ocean when someone needs him – and that doesn’t help the rest of us get there to help too! I can only make the Tornado so fast before it’s too dangerous for passengers. So I’ve been reverse engineering the blah blah blah tech talk, satellites or something, I dunno – to make the MOVE System! All my tests have been going great, it’s safe to use, it just needs a stress test to see how much use it can take! And I can’t think of anyone better to stress it out than you.’

“So he gave me the remote, showed me how to use it, and bada-bing bada-boom, IDEA!” she slaps the chart again, “OPERATION KISS THE GIRL!”

Jewel reels – as she often does when trying to keep up with Tangle – and looks at all the pinned stops. “Put in… coordinates? Tangle, doesn’t that mean you need to know the exact latitude and longitude of every place on this list? There’s no way you can memorize all-“

“I WAS UP ALL NIGHT MEMORIZING ALL OF THEM!” she pumps her arms triumphantly. She turns and starts pointing at places, listing off coordinate codes at top Tangle speed until Jewel puts a hand over her mouth.

“Sweetie, don’t you think this is all a bit… much? This is far too much pressure to put on yourself for one date.”

“No it’s not.”

Jewel jumps at her sudden serious tone.

“Whisper trusts me. I know you don’t know her like I do, but that’s a big deal. She deserves better – she deserves everything.” Tangle wrings the hem of her shirt. “She deserves this much effort and so much more, and I’m gonna give it all to her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t regret it.”

“Regret it? Tangle…”

Jewel is cut off this time by a loud beeping. Tangle shoves back the edge of her glove to reveal a little watch and turns off its alarm.

“THAT’S TIME!! I gotta go pick up my girlfriend! Bye Jewel, see ya later, stay safe, byeeeee!!!”

She speeds off, sending papers flying off her chart in the slipstream. Jewel reaches for her helplessly. Worried.

Whisper the Wolf meanders peacefully through Spiral Hill Village. It’s a much more pleasant place to visit when you’re not in a high stakes game of cat and mouse with a murderous traitor or… something. Yeah, much nicer without something like that hanging over one’s head. It’s hard to imagine someone like Tangle coming from such a calm place. Or maybe it makes sense that an adventurous spirit would get that hyper with so few adventures in arm or tail’s reach. At the very least, it makes sense that such a sleepy town tasked with raising a Tangle would be as ready to brace and dodge that swinging, flipping, bouncing ball of energy as the way Whisper watches them respond to her running up the street toward her.

“HIIII WHISPER!” Tangle calls, waving enthusiastically. She dives at Whisper, who just as readily braces herself to let Tangle swing her momentum out – revolving around her before wrapping back into a hug.

“You seem extra excited… something to do with that surprise you promised me?” Whisper’s soft, quiet voice teases.

Tangle grabs onto Whisper’s shoulders to lean back and squeal. “Yes yes yes it is! Cause I have this!” She whips out the little remote.

Whisper shifts her mask to eye it curiously. “…what is it?”

“This, my fair lady, is the very first remote for the – the, uh – the-“ she squints at the label maker sticker on the back, “Mobility Over Variable Energies… system.”

They both stare at the cartoony device.

“You know, I think he comes up with a good acronym first and then picks whatever words he can make fit it.” Tangle says.

“It also has two-way radio, so maybe watch what buttons you’re pressing before you start making comments.” The device crackles back.

Tangle grimaces. “Sorry, Tails – thank you, Tails.” She releases the microphone button. “A-anyway. As I was saying – I have big plans for us today, Whisper! First stop, Apotos!!”

Whisper tilts her head. “Apotos? If this is going to be a whole trip, I could use a little more time to prepare…”

“Why Whisper, my dear, who needs to take a whole long, expensive trip like that when we can have a one-day Apotos vacation at the push of a button?”

Tangle types. And types. “…at the push of several buttons HEY there we GO!”

She points the remote at an empty space nearby and confirms her coordinates in the system. Almost instantly, space wibbles and warps, ripples spreading out like a pebble dropped in a pond. A whirling, light orange portal sits in front of them. Tangle gives a little bow and holds her arm out to Whisper with a wink.

“Shall we depart, miss?”

Whisper breathes out a tiny laugh and takes her arm. Together, they step through the whirling light. Back at Spiral Hill, the portal closes quickly behind them.

The two of them are hit with a sensation not unlike missing a step on a staircase. A disoriented lurch and the sensation of falling toward very close ground. They support each other as they catch their footing on the other side of a rippling orange circle that’s waved to life just above pale cobblestone paths.

The duo step, blinking against the brighter light, out into a breezy Apotos morning. The sunlight bounces off the white buildings, making them look almost luminous. Seabirds drift lazily on the ocean breeze coming off the perfectly blue water rolling invitingly a little ways off. Whisper approaches the wall of the raised walkway they’re on and leans on it to look out over the water.

“It’s beautiful…”

“Yeah…” Tangle smiles toward her. “Y-yeah! Top ten vacation spot!”

Whisper looks at her curiously.

“S-so I hear – always wanted to visit, so hey, why not, y’know? But uh, yeah, I figure we could…” she does a little circling motion with her finger, “…walk around a bit? Take in the sights, maybe, uh – hey!”

Tangle hops around her, guiding her gaze over toward an ice cream stand opening up for the day.

“Maybe some ice cream for the walk? I’m pretty sure it’s like 8am here, but hey, it was afternoon back home, and clearly no one ever told this guy ice cream isn’t a breakfast food – so that works out for us!”

Whisper snickers. “Sure, ice cream sounds nice.”

And so they stroll together down the alabaster streets of the island, hand-in-hand. It’s certainly a far cry from Spiral Hill – but even the beaches back home have a very different atmosphere to them. There’s simply something in the way the breeze rolls off the ocean here that feels warm and serene compared to their coast’s playfulness. Tangle steals a look over at Whisper. She looks happy. Curious and relaxed, taking in the sights in a way that doesn’t feel tactical this time. Tangle can’t help but smile. She’s doing it! She’s going to get a good grade in girlfriending! A very normal thing to think!!

Just as they get close enough to the ice cream booth to read the menu, they see the truly decadent cone the vendor is assembling in a little stand and wonder at the balancing act of it all – chocolate and vanilla scoops dotted with chunks of chocolate, multiple fruits both chocolate-dipped and plain around the edge, pocky and an extra wedge of waffle cone in it for good measure – confidently slid across to the edge of the counter at its completion. A work of art to be sure. Although there’s no sign of any customer waiting to eat it before it melts. Before an eager-looking Tangle can volunteer on their behalf, they both jump – battle-ready, alert – at the blur that shoots by and sets the stand spinning in a clattering circle. Robbed of its pride and joy.

Sonic leans against the corner of the booth and looks over the frosty treat. He gives an appreciative whistle.

“This might be your best one yet! Take a look at that!” he shares a friendly, familiar smile with the shopkeeper before plucking a chocolate-dipped strawberry off to pop into his mouth.

“Only the best for my best customer! And how about you ladies? You look like you could use a scoop or two. What can I get you?”

Sonic follows his eyes to them and waves.

“Well, hey there! Fancy seeing you two here!”

“HI SONIC!” Tangle waves back.

“Hello!” Whisper puts her hand up.

“Friends of yours, I take it?” the vendor asks him.

“Oh yeah, you know me. Mr. Popular over here. I’m guessing they’re here to try the best ice cream in the world – is that right, girls?”

Tangle’s eyes sparkle. “The best in the world? Really?”

“Oh yeah! If you’re looking for recommendations, you’ve got to try the Sundae Supreme,” he waggles the impressive cone, “they come with a hefty seal of approval.”

“A favorite of yours? It doesn’t seem like your usual fare.” Whisper teases.

“Hah, not quite. But a close friend loved them. I come by to get them – for him, you know? And they’re great every time!”

Whisper nods solemnly.

Tangle gulps. The atmosphere is taking a turn for the sad – gotta get this train back on the track!

“SO! If they’re that good, we’ll take two!” She calls, a bit too loudly, to the vendor.

He matches her energy with an equally loud and enthusiastic “Two Sundae Supremes for the lovely ladies, coming right up!”

Tangle taps her foot anxiously, watching Whisper and Sonic continue to chat. They lean on the wall lining the walkway and look out over the water, talking about the scenery here. What if they talk more about this whole memorial ceremony he’s doing – it’s not that she doesn’t care about his loss, that sucks, she’d love to talk about it another time for sure! But what if they start talking about it, and Whisper starts thinking too much about her old friends, and everything she’s done for their memories, and then she gets sad, and she doesn’t want to keep doing this date! And then when she thinks about dates with Tangle she thinks about being miserable in such a pretty place and she doesn’t want to go on any more dates at all, and then she doesn’t want to be her girlfriend at all, and breakups are so awkward, so she stops wanting to see her anywhere, and she leaves, and it’s all her fault, and-

Tangle’s anxious, tapping, spiraling mess of thoughts are interrupted by a loud crash that shakes the walkway. She runs up to the wall and looks down with the others. A submarine of some sort has emerged from the water and started spitting out badniks that are already beginning to attack the outskirts of town.

“Tch, can’t even take one morning off, huh? Alright.” Sonic scarfs down the ice cream cone. “If that’s how Eggman wants to – ahhh ah-ah-ah, brain freeze!”

Whisper points the ice cream vendor toward the buildings. “Go. Get somewhere safe.”

“Good call, Whisper. Ah, geeze, gotta stop eating cold stuff that fast! Alright!” He steps up onto the wall and does a couple stretches in place, “Change of plans! Let’s scramble some eggs, and then ice cream’s on me!”

Whisper nods and draws her wispon.

“WAAAAIIIIT!”

They both stop. They turn, utterly confused, to Tangle.

“Hi, yeah, sorry – actually, Sonic, do you mind if we… maybe dip? We’re uh – we’re sort of on a date? Right now?”

Sonic blinks. “Oh.” He looks between them. “Oh – OH! Yeah, of course! Go, go, have fun! There’s barely any bots here, I can handle this solo no problem – you two go get your romance on! Sorry, Tangle!”

“No problem! We’re just gonna – yeah! We’re just gonna head out!”

She hooks Whisper’s arm and types a new code onto the remote, quickly popping up a new portal.

“Ooh, fresh Tails tech?”

“Yeah!”

“Nice. Alright, you kids have fun now. I’ll catch ya later!” Sonic gives them a little salute and hops off the wall.

“Come on, he’s got this. And we’ve got plans!” Tangle encourages Whisper. She sighs and begrudgingly puts her wispon away.

“Okay… where did you have in mind?”

They step through to a bustling city center, alive with chatter and cars – a sharp contrast to the slow, relaxed Apatos coast.

“Tah-dah!” Tangle trumpets at a crosswalk. “Oh. Wait-“ she takes Whisper’s shoulders and rotates both of them. “-tah-dah!”

They stand in front of a neon wonder – a world of flashing lights and dinging, singing machinery known as Secret Zone Games.

“Come on! I bet I can win more tickets than you!” Tangle teases.

Whisper snickers and nods. “You’re on.”

They pick through the digital playground, caught up in mostly friendly competition. Rolling skee-balls, mashing buttons, trying to pick the next nearest game they each think they’ll have the advantage in when they start slipping behind.

“I don’t remember Super Monkey Ball being that hard!” Tangle groans.

Whisper shrugs. “Never played it before.”

“What!? But you totally kicked my tail!!”

“Hm. Skill issue.”

“Ah! AH! Skill issue?? Oh, those are fighting words – that’s it. No more missus nice lemur – let’s cut the kiddie stuff and go where the real warriors test their skills, then we’ll see who has a skill issue!”

“And where would that be?”

“The rhythm games. Sure, you’ve revolutioned, but can you dance, dance?”

“I don’t think revolutioned is a word.”

“She’s dodging the question!” Tangle declares to an imaginary jury, “Sounds like someone’s scared to get shown up!”

Whisper grins. “You’re on.”

“Then let’s go, let’s settle this – all or nothin!”

Racing to the next section of games, they round the corner to an unexpected sight.

“Shadow?” Tangle asks.

Sure enough, the ultimate lifeform stands with his arms crossed next to a large claw machine full of adorable, multi-colored plush chao. And standing at the controls is a little cream-colored rabbit girl with her tongue out in intense concentration. She carefully lines up the claw and pushes the button to lower it into a plushy pile. As the claw makes contact with a doll, she starts aggressively mashing the button – but the doll slips right out of the claw’s loose grip and back into the pile.

“Dang it!” she huffs.

“Why are you hitting the button like that?” Shadow asks her incredulously.

“The internet says it helps.”

Shadow sneers. “Don’t just believe everything you read on the internet, Cream. It’s full of fools and liars.”

“And recipes.”

“Fine, fools, liars, and sometimes recipes.”

Tangle lands on top of the claw machine without warning.

“Hi Shadow! Hi Cream! I didn’t expect to see the two of you here – together, no less! How’d that happen?”

“Hi, Miss Tangle!” Cream waves.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Vanilla called in a favor. And lucky for her, I had nothing better to do today with Rouge taking Omega for maintenance.”

“Mister Shadow babysits me when Mom and Gemerl are busy!”

Tangle grins down at the kid. “Awww, isn’t that sweet! I knew you were a big ol softie, ya ol’ sharp, dark, and broody.”

Shadow snarls up at her. “Aren’t you busy right now?” he demands, gesturing back at Whisper. Her and Cream wave at each other.

“Ah!! You’re right, you’re right – sorry, Whisper! Have fun, Cream! See you around, Shadow!” She flips off of the claw machine.

“Not if I can help it.” Shadow grumbles at her back as she links arms with Whisper and they run off together. And so he turns his attention back to his charge – who is currently counting out her game tokens to see how many more chances she gets to win that chao doll.

“Don’t you want to try a different game?” he asks her, “It may be time to give up on this one.”

“Sonic says you can accomplish anything as long as you don’t give up. So I’m not gonna give up on this toy! I’m gonna win!”

“Tch, what does that guy know? The only thing he can actually outrun is his own sense of reason.”

“So… it doesn’t matter if I try my hardest, I still can’t win?”

“Someti-“ Shadow catches himself. And he catches those big, sad eyes – looking up to him, begging him to tell her the world can be fair. He can’t take it.

“…give it one more try, and then I see something I want to play.”

“Wow, really? Okay! One more try!”

Shadow leans against the machine with a huff while the little girl hypes herself up and inserts her tokens. He checks the coast is clear. And seeing no one looking their way, he presses a hand to the side of the machine. Just a bit more power to the claw. Make sure it holds onto the doll, make sure it carries it by whatever part of the damn thing it touches clear to the chute and into her eager little arms. He whispers to himself, buried under the hyperactive calls of a hundred games that couldn’t take her attention from her dreams.

“Chaos… control.”

Tangle and Whisper watch the commotion from the established perimeter. Whisper watches the action curiously. Tangle gapes in disbelief.

“What… do you mean… it caught fire!? Where?? How!?”

Whisper shrugs. “A lot of machines. Maybe the wiring couldn’t handle it.”

“It’s an arcade!!”

“Was an arcade.”

“It’s still an arcade, it’s just a slightly more on fire arcade!” Tangle looks around at the utter chaos. “Oh – HEY! CREAM, SHADOW – THAT WAS CRAZY, RIGHT??”

Shadow is carrying Cream on his back, and she looks absolutely shocked.

“It was the claw machine,” she tells them quietly, “I almost got my doll and the whole thing sparked green and started melting. How did that happen – did I do that?”

Shadow clears his throat uncomfortably. “It chose death rather than allow you victory over it. A coward’s way out.”

“Coward.” Cream parrots. Whisper nods.

“Yeesh, well that sucks.” Tangle rubs her neck with a grimace. “Guess that’s a sour note on both our days out, huh?”

Cream perks up. “Shadow says we’re gonna go to the toy store and I can pick out any doll I want!”

“She earned her victory square, I’ll not let her go home empty-handed.” He looks at Tangle smirking at him. “…stop that.”

“And in exchange, I don’t tell Momma we burned an arcade down!”

“IT’S NOT BURNED DOWN, IT’S JUST A LITTLE MORE ON FIRE.” Shadow and Tangle both exclaim.

Tangle puts her hands up before Shadow can glare at her any harder. “Okay, okay – well you two have fun with that! Whisper and I also have a backup plan~!”

“We do?”

“Yes indeed we do – I think we need more fun and games a lot closer to a source of water, don’t you?” She punches some numbers into her remote. “All aboard the romance train! Next stop, Emerald Coast! WHOO-WHOO!”

Tangle dances through the portal backwards, keeping an eye on Whisper, who gives her a little smile and a little, reserved arm waggling in return on their way through.

The air immediately smells and feels a world apart from the city. Now it’s heavy with the smells of fried foods and sweet treats galore, carried on a fresh saltwater breeze, and music and chatter carry across it more freely in the more open space.

“Tah-dah! There’s a carnival in town today! Come on, let’s play a couple more games and get that arcade energy out of us!”

“And then we can get some of those delicious-smelling snacks, right?”

“Well, if you insist.”

Whisper gives a little giggle, taking Tangle’s arm again. It’s perfect, she’ll win ring toss, or that milk bottle game, or both! And then she can give Whisper the prize from those and impress her! And if Whisper wants, she’d be a shoe-in for those shooting games these things always have, being a sniper and all, so she can also have a chance to show off and be so cool and pretty and – and then! She knows exactly what time they need to get on that big, beautiful ferris wheel in a few hours so they’ll be up at the top when the sun’s setting into the water, and it’ll be gorgeous and romantic and maybe they’ll even kiss and-

“Actually,” Whisper leans through Tangle’s thought bubble, “I’m kind of hungry. How about we get some food now and eat it by the beach? We can play afterwards.”

“Oh! Yeah! Yeah!!” Tangle pivots away from the game alley. “Yeah, let’s eat first! The beach looks great right now too, that’s a great idea!”

So they instead follow the siren call of unholy amounts of breaded and fried food. Soon they’re making their way down the pier, balancing their greasy treasures. In one hand Whisper holds the stick of a silly sort of corndog with a second, mini corndog jabbed on under it to make a little exclamation point - in the other, a tray of fresh, hot onion rings. Tangle pants, trying to not burn her mouth on the ring sacrificed to make room for little paper cups of ketchup and mustard, her own hands occupied with a truly staggering concoction that might have once been considered tater tots, but has since been drowned beyond recognition in shredded meat, hot peppers, and Gaia knows what else hiding under all that cheese sauce – and an enormous lemonade. With two straws, naturally. The couple finds a nice spot along the edge of the walkway and sit down, dangling their legs out over the idyllic blue water. They watch the birds sweep easy arches toward the sea and back up into the sky while they eat.

It's a comfortable sort of quiet. Peaceful. The kind of moment neither of them had known in a long time, if ever, before they found each other. Whisper’s not very talkative anyway, but since losing the original Diamond Cutters, she’s grown used to long stretches of quiet. But that’s a hollow kind of quiet. The kind that feels heavy from what is supposed to be filling it but can’t anymore. Hours, days, weeks left alone with just her thoughts and replays of better times to keep her company. It grew comfortable in the same way being cold for too long makes you start to feel warm. And then there was Tangle. A loud, relentlessly chatty, energetic summer’s day. Thawing out hurt. But now that she’s been warm again, a cool breeze – a moment of close quiet like this – feels good.

Heaven help Tangle if she’s ever been able to let a room stay quiet for more than a minute in her life. Spiral Hill is great, she loves her home, but it’s always been so boriiiiiiing! Just sitting there like a blank canvas begging for a splash of paint to liven it up! For years Tangle’s been the only one holding a paintbrush, bouncing off every wall, filling the sleepy quiet with any adventure she could scrape together from misplaced tools and lone stray badniks. And then she met the Sonic – and because of him, she met Whisper! And sure she was quiet too, but she had all these adventures, and cool battle skills, and a mysterious past! And a painful past. And a good reason to want to stay small and quiet. And Tangle felt so, so guilty for… for a lot of things she messed up with her. And now she kind of got it. How sometimes, it’s just nice to enjoy a moment of quiet for a bit and know it doesn’t need to be filled with noise right now. Because that moment of peace and quiet made a pretty wolf trying to find the mustard stuck on her fur look that unguarded.

But a quiet moment is just that: a moment. Tangle has too much planned to spend the rest of the day sitting on some wood staring at the water – totally just at the water, that’s all she was staring at! She pops back up to her feet.

“Alright! That was delicious, buuuut! I believe we have a date with some games, don’t we?”

“Do we? That’s odd…” Whisper tilts her head.

Tangle’s tail droops. “Do… do we not?”

“It’s just,” Whisper smiles, “I could have sworn my date was with you.”

Tangle snorts. “Okay, very funny.” She reaches down to help Whisper up and bundles their collective lunch trash into a proper container. “Come on, come on, come on! Those booths are callin’ our names, I can hear them from here!”

They hold hands and stroll their way back down the pier. Tangle gestures with her tail to make up for the occupied hand.

“Sooo, how are you at hoops? These things always have a basketball thing, yeah?”

“Why Tangle, are you questioning my aim?” Whisper teases.

“No, I’m questioning your throwing arm.” Tangle teases right back.

“Those sound like fighting words.”

“Well maybe they are! So come on, let’s… rumble?”

They pause, looking around for a source for the rumbling affecting the pier, making the wooden structure shake like an earthquake.

“Move, move, move!!” someone yells.

“WHAT!?” Tangle screeches, seeing the source.

Amy Rose, hammer out, runs full tilt down the walkway while frantically shouting for everyone on it ahead of her to run back to safety. And behind her an absolutely gargantuan orca!? An orca bigger than Tangle even thought they got is crashing through the pier CHASING HER DOWN.

“Tangle! Come on!” Whisper tugs the stunned lemur’s hand, running them both toward safety. She shakes off the shock and also focuses on running. Before long she’s pulling ahead of Whisper and dragging her along at her speed. All the while behind them, Amy swings and smashes at chunks of wooden planks, intercepting them in mid-air from hitting the fleeing carnival-goers.

Once they reach the end of the pier, Tangle and Whisper turn back, with tail and wispon protecting the gathered people from debris so Amy can focus on spinning, winding up, charging up a decisive slam of her hammer into the orca, finally redirecting it away from all the people. They all wait, watching for a surprise second phase… but it seems the danger’s passed for now. Amy twirls on her heel and bounces the hammer up on her shoulder.

“Hey, girls!” she waves.

Whisper slowly lowers her wispon and awkwardly waves back. Tangle’s tail, arms, ears – everything that can droop droops, staring at the floating pile of debris that was, until very recently, the Emerald Coast boardwalk.

“Wha… that… why…” she stammers.

“Oh, that whole thing?” Amy gestures too casually at the wreckage. “Eh, it happens sometimes.”

“WHALES HAPPEN SOMETIMES!?”

“Well, actually orcas are more closely related to dolphins?” Amy taps the hammer handle thoughtfully.

“Oh sweet Gaia.”

“Is that why you were in the area?” Whisper tilts her head.

“What? Oh, no, no – I mean, it’s lucky I was! Or maybe fate? I actually had a little fortune telling booth set up over there, I was giving tarot readings.” Amy pulls a deck of unevenly stacked cards out of her pocket. “But then, you know… orca happened.”

A breeze off the water sends a particularly loose card flying out of the set and away before Amy can drop her hammer and grab it – so it’s Whisper snatching it out of the air. And holding it back out to her. She sighs in relief, more fazed by almost losing a card than being chased by a dock-destroying murder dolphin.

“Oh my goodness, thank you! They’re not really together properly, it’s so hard to gather cards in a hurry! Oh – but as they say! If a card jumps out, it’s trying to tell you something! So let’s see what card jumped at you… Ooh, The Lovers, I adore that one!” Amy looks up from the card at them. She looks like she’s about to say more, but she holds that thought. She looks between Whisper, and just behind her where Tangle is pulling on her own ears in stress.

Amy claps her hands over her mouth with a gasp. “Were you two on a date??”

“Yes, we were just about to play some games. But it, uhm…” Whisper leans to look past Amy at the destruction and the amount of the boardwalk now out of reach. “…I assume the carnival is closing early.”

“But that doesn’t mean the romance train is derailed!” Tangle bursts in, already punching new coordinates – maybe harder than is very nice to the buttons – onto the remote. “We’ve got more stops to go! CHOO CHOO! ROMANCE!” She insists, punching the activation button and opening a new portal.

“Oh! Neat, is that Tails’ newest…” Amy tries.

“DEPARTING NOW! ALL ABOARD!” Tangle calls, sliding Whisper through and following close behind. To the next stop. The next perfect date spot, the next backup of a backup of a backup plan!

Backups of backups of backups become backup-backup-backup-backups, become back-back-back-back-backups, become –

Becomes a beautiful day at the Sunset City Central Park, until Rouge and Omega come crashing through, shrubbery catching on fire from Omega’s thrusters, bag leaking jewelry with guards hot on their tail.

Becomes a cute little café and bakery in Seaside City with delicious sweets, coffee, and tea galore – until Vector crashes through the awning onto their table, Espio and Charmy close behind on some investigation or other – becomes Silver and Blaze rushing up to them, saying something about a timeline-altering event about to happen that-

“NO!!”

Tangle grabs the remote once again, by now starting to feel very warm, and smacks in some more numbers, slams the activation button again, drags Whisper through another portal to another spot where another plan can go all

Wrong. She put in the coordinates wrong. They’re on land at least, barely, popping out on a cliffside overlooking the water once again. Problem is, she has no idea where this is, she doesn’t even know which ocean she’s looking at right now. She chokes down an aggravated screech into more of an angry beep and starts trying to punch in on the remote. But the casing feels so hot, the numbers are flickering on and off the screen as she tries to type them. Finally with an anticlimactic pop, the little fox-faced remote fizzles out.

Tangle stares at it. She tries to push the buttons. It does nothing. She tries to turn it off and back on again. It does nothing. It does nothing, it does nothing, it does nothing, it

Her hands shake. Her grip threatens to crack the plastic casing – as if she could make it any less functional. Her vision gets blurry. She can’t think of anything else to do, so she spikes the remote to the ground and collapses. She curls tight in on herself, wrapping her tail around her like a cocoon.

Stupid – how could she be so stupid! All this work to try and impress Whisper, to try and do something right for her, just this one time to think ahead – to look before she leaps so she doesn’t make a mess of things – and where did it get her? Where did it get both of them!? Stranded Gaia-knows-where. And it’s all her fault. It keeps being all her own fault.

“Tangle?”

She can’t summon up an answer. Apologizing again feels so hollow. She doesn’t have an excuse for this.

Whisper, softly as her name implies, steps closer. She looks over the tight coil of fur, staggered by the intensity of it all. Her hand stutters in the air between them, wanting to reach for Tangle but… not sure if she should. Not sure how to handle this at all. She knows Tangle wears her heart on her sleeve and feels everything so fully – it’s one of the things she loves most about her. But she’s seen her unbridled joy, her righteous fury, her seemingly boundless excitement over everything. She’s even, on rare occasion, seen her slammed-brake brand of hesitation, of doubt.

She’s never known her to break like this.

So she does what Tangle would. She pushes forward, running her hand softly, hopefully comfortingly, across the tail enveloping her.

“Tangle, what’s wrong?” she tries, a little louder.

“…I broke it…” Tangle sniffles.

“No,” Whisper gently corrects, settling to the ground next to her, shoulder to tail. “I don’t mean what happened to the remote. I mean… I didn’t know how to say it earlier. You’ve been on edge all day.”

She nestles in closer and rests her cheek against Tangle’s tail.

“You’ve been so jumpy. You’re running away from fighting alongside our friends. Even if they don’t need us for these little things, that’s not like you. Even now – we both know you hate small spaces like that, you can’t feel better wrapping yourself up like this. Tangle, did something happen?”

She slides her fingers between the coils as if she could pry them open and free Tangle from her self-imposed cage. She presses her forehead into the fur.

“You’re always there for me when there’s too much for me to handle on my own. From the moment we met, you’ve never let me face a battle alone. Please. Whatever happened, whatever hurt you – we’ll face it together.”

Tangle’s tail loosens. The loops gradually slipping, melting off of her into a limp, pathetic nest. She looks to Whisper with big, teary eyes and a hiccuped sob. She tips over, dropping her head into Whisper’s waiting shoulder to be hugged.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles wetly, “I messed it all up, I’m sorry.”

Whisper shushes her and rubs the back of her head. “It was an accident. Everyone said that remote was new, right? How would you know that would-“

“No, no, no! I mean – yeah, I broke the remote too – but it’s not just the remote, it’s the whole rotten thing!” Tangle sits back. “I picked all those stupid places, and every single one of them went wrong! I just wanted to give you one perfect day – no fights, no stakes – just one day where you could relax and have fun and not have to worry about anything! You deserve so much more than that, but I messed it up again!”

“What?” Whisper reaches for Tangle’s cheek. “Again?”

“Yeah, again! After everything you went through before, you still trusted me – and what did I do with that? I got got by the zombots and made you go through all that again!”

“You didn’t mean to – you didn’t even know back then.”

“And then when you were dealing with Mimic I let him trick me – twice! In one day! And when he came back again I didn’t have your back, I let him pull one over on me again instead of listening to you! I took the Diamond Cutter name without asking you first – I keep pushing you and messing things up for you, and not thinking and getting you hurt, and you deserve better than any of it – you deserve better than you’ve gotten – you deserve better than me!”

“Tangle!”

Whisper cups Tangle’s face, wet with tears, and makes her look at her. She thumbs across her cheeks to wipe some of it away.

“Tangle, I don’t care about any of that. I don’t blame you for half of that stuff, and the things I was mad at you for, I already forgave you. And I’ve been having a lot of fun today. I’ve just been worried about you. I’ve been worried about you being so stressed because I love you. And I want you to be okay too.” She presses their foreheads together. “We’ve both made our mistakes. And I think we’re going to make more. But I trust you. Whether I wanted to or not, I trust you. So I trust that whatever else happens, we’ll get through it together. That’s all I could want from you.”

Tangle sniffles. She wraps her hand around Whisper’s on her cheek and closes her eyes, leaning into the embrace.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect…” Whisper breathes, “…it just needs to be us.”

Her hands fall off Tangle’s face as the lemur lurches forward and pulls her into a tight embrace. Tangle’s tail wraps behind her to catch them from completely falling into the grass, giving them a soft place to sit and melt into each other’s grip. Even once they relax back into a less overwhelmed cuddle, it serves as a nice cushion for them to look out over the water and finally take in the view they stumbled into. Wherever they are, it’s evening here, as the sun is setting in just the right way to paint the clouds vibrant oranges and pinks and the sea the kind of almost purple-ish color they talk about in old poetry.

With a crackle and a pop, Tails' voice calls out to them. "Tangle? Whisper? Are you guys still together?"

Tangle grabs the remote the voice is coming from. "Of course we're still together!" she cries back at it, gripping it tightly in both hands, "It didn't go that badly!!"

"Oh good!" Tails gives a staticy, compressed sigh of relief. "When I got a critical error message from the MOVE System, I was worried. But it put you both in the same place, that's good!"

"Oh! Yeah!" Tangle sweats. "Yep, physical proximity! We're sure in the same location in space, yep, no worries!"

Whisper snickers behind her mask.

"Okay, great! I'm going to triangulate the distress signal from your remote off the other Tails-tech around - I'll come get you in the Tornado as soon as I can!"

Tangle and Whisper look at each other for a moment. Whisper gives her a soft, encouraging smile. Tangle grins back and lifts the remote.

“Take your time, Tails.”

Tangle settles back, pulling her tail a little closer around the two of them.

“We’ll be alright.”

#sonic big bang 2025 #fanfic #sonic the hedghog #tangle the lemur #whisper the wolf #long post

32 notes · View notes

calx-bdo · 7 months ago

Text

「 azure dreams , midnight tales 」

-> featuring, barista!soobin x gn!student!reader

-> w/c ; 1.9k || no warnings

sypnosis : 「 you, an insomniac who finds solace in your late-night conversations with soobin, the barista at a 24-hour cafe. over time, you realizes that soobin’s soft voice and calming presence feel like a dream come true, even during your sleepless nights. but as the midnight talks deepen, so do your feelings, leaving you wondering if this connection is too perfect to last past sunrise. 」

part of the blue-kissed moments masterlist ! pls feel free to check the other fics ^^

[m.list]

a/n : my first soobin fic !! happy birthday my angel

university is the worst.

no, scratch that. being a broke university student is the worse. juggling day-to-day expenses alongside payments of school materials and dorm rent, and the additional stress of the classes and exams? nothing could've prepared you for how grueling the first semester would be. with a sigh, you stumble into a cafe, the bells ringing overhead as your eyes tried to adjust to the warm lights radiated by the decorations lining the homely appearance of the cafe. thank god for 24 hour cafes, you can finally get a (un)healthy dose of caffeine at midnight to fuel your night owl study sessions.

there was only one other person in the small cafe. the barista, head turning up from his phone to glance upon the newcomer into the cafe. he flashed a warm smile as his lithe hands placed his phone down. he turns to greet you, his tussled hair framing his eyes perfectly with a warm, boyfriend look to him.

"welcome to azure dreams cafe. you look awfully tired, what drink can i get you?" the honeyed tone of the barista's voice warms you, it's been so long since anybody has treated you with the bare bones of respect. "sorry for coming in so late.. are americanos available? i just need the energy." you responded, running your hand through your hair as the other clutches your book bag. "it's no problem at all. i understand how you feel, so just take a seat there. feel free to listen to music or take a nap, whatever you need." he hummed, before turning away further into the cafe, where a soft hum of machinery slowly filled the quiet atmosphere.

you caught a glimpse of his nametag ─ choi soobin.

₊˚ʚ

"oh, you're back."

soobin tilted his head, lips pursed as he studies your hunched frame. "sorry, soobin. you keep having to make americanos at midnight for me." you placed your bag down at the cafe lounge chair, easily sliding into the booth. it's been a week of visiting this cafe, a week of talking to the barista, a week of receiving endless amounts of help and feedback on your work. soobin, your eternal saviour, your light at the end of the tunnel, your guardian angel. multiple times has he lent a helping hand to you, allowing you to swiftly complete your work and improving on the essays and projects that you've been pulling all nighters (and your hair) for.

"why're you so willing to help me?" the question slipped out, your eyes boring into soobin's back as he closely monitors the coffee beans. "well," he mused, a small smile playing on his lips. "everyone deserves a little help sometimes. even if they're extremely sleep deprived. i see .. myself in you, i guess." soobin shoved his hands into his apron pockets, leaning against the cover, back still facing you. you leaned your head against the table, mulling over his words. he.. sees himself in you? what does that mean? your thoughts echoed through your head, ricocheting off each other.

"hey, stop thinking about it so much," soobin suddenly appeared, placing your americano before you. he leaned forward, upper body against your table. "i know that university work's tough, but i promise you, you'll always find solace here, alright? i'll be here every night. i know you're worried about many things, but my presence will not be one of them." soobin gently carresses your fingers, before casting you a soft smile. "i promise you."

butterflies erupted in your stomach, as you feel your face grow hotter. "t..thank you.." you managed to stutter out, looking down at your unfinished work, a little flustered from the sudden burst of affection from the midnight barista. you grabbed the coffee cup, before collecting yourself. was that.. was that a confession..?

₊˚ʚ

"y'know, i admire your consistency." soobin suddenly speaks, thus dragging your attention onto him. your eyebrows furrowed, confused. "consistency? like.. my school work? i haven't showed you my results before though.." you mumbled out, brain still trying to catch up on the horrendously low number of hours of sleep you managed to catch that week. soobin giggled, looking at you with a .. weird emotion in his eyes. "no, silly. your consistency in managing to come here every midnight. it's been three weeks, and you've never missed a day." you pursed your lips, before realisation dawned on you ─ has it really been three weeks? you flashed a small embarrassed smile, eyes turning back to your computer.

soobin's memory is immaculate. remembering the exact preferences you had for decoration suggestions you sometimes gave, and memorising the exact timing on how long you loved for the coffee beans to roast. his knowledge is expanse too, almost as if he dabbled in everything before. what soobin is oblivious to, however, is the fact that on your phone, you have a little alarm to wake you up everyday to head to the cafe. so no matter what, you were determined to enter the cafe at twelve midnight. what was the reason behind this? honestly, you're not sure yourself (yet). all you know is that you're dead-set in seeing soobin's smile everyday.

suddenly, a ringtone rang out. "oh, excuse me." soobin got up from the sofa across you, before heading into the back of the cafe to handle the call. "huh? a phone call at 1am? especially from dialing the cafe number?" your fingers twirled with your pen, neck straining as you tried your best to hear the phone call. unfortunately, only bits and pieces of information entered your ears. "close down.... rent......two days."

your heart sank. soobin's lanky figure emerged from the room, face clearly distressed. when his eyes landed on you, he seemed to get even more anxious, fingers twiddling with the hem of his shirt, akin to a child feeling extremly guilty. he opened his mouth as if to say something, before closing it again. you patted the seat next to you, a silent invitation. a reassurance.

"so... the cafe is in a bit of a financial crisis as of right now.." soobin looked down at the table, eyes not daring to meet yours. he continued, " 'cause of lack of customers, and the expenses of the ingredients and rent... the owner said that it would be best to shut this cafe down for good." soobin sighed, broad shoulders sinking into his shirt, making it look too big on soobin. you didn't like that. you didn't like your soobin looking so small and fragile.

"all good things must come to an end one day," you gave a small smile, your palm unfolding over soobin's closed fist. "i don't want our nights to end." a small confession muttered from his lips. "i don't want our nights to end too, soobin. this .. all this means so much to me. so, so much." you looked away, gazing at the twinkling stars in the distance. your hand feels heavy against soobin's, but your heart weighs heavier. the truth is, having these nights end scare you to no end. "but.. we'll figure a way out, right? like we always have." you offered a small semblance of hope, an open question hanging.

empty confessions fill the air. a choked sob escapes soobin. your heart aches as you pull him towards your shoulder, allowing for a place of comfort, no matter how small. a place of solace for him, showing that there was never any doubt for your presence in his life as well. you mirror his sentiments as you pulled him against you tighter, hands rubbing his forearm as he cries into your shoulder.

a warm tear glided down your cheek.

₊˚ʚ

you huffed, melachonly settling uncomfortably into your stomach. the bells above your head chimed one last time, as you enter the cafe. your sneakers step onto the furnished hardwood, as the warm lights embrace you. there, behind the counter, soobin stood. just like that night three weeks ago, he was there. always, with a cup of americano ready. "i never took you to the rooftop before, right?" you shook your head, your curiosity piqued at the mention of the roof. was it even allowed? soobin snapped you out of your thoughts, waving a hand in front of you.

"you're not scared of heights, are you..?" soobin question, his grasp on your wrist loosening as he led you up the staircase. "a little late for that, no?" you giggled, trailing closely behind soobin. "oh.. true.." he mumbled, blinking a bit. he chuckled, hand reaching for the doorknob towards the roof. "i like to come up here after my shifts. it.. relaxes the mind, y'know? makes it feel like-" "it's all going to be alright." you completed his sentence, your eyes gazing into his own. "yeah.. exactly." he huffed, letting a small laugh out.

once both of you are settled onto the roof, a thick silence envelops the air. you leaned your head onto soobin's shoulder, huddling closer towards him, as if this is your last chance to ever see him. he wrapped his arm around you, head turned up towards the two twinkling stars in the sky. "i never told you this, but.. i used to hate working the midnight shift." soobin starts off, hesistant in continuing. you faced him, urging him to finish his train of thought. "it wasn't a very nice time to work, haha.. i mean, midnight isn't usually the time when people would come into a cafe, so most days were dull." you hummed, leaning further into him.

"until you started visiting." you laughed, "you're only saying that to make me happy." "no no, i'm serious!" soobin frantically waved his hand, heart-shaped lips forming a pout. "i mean it, really. you've.. changed my life in more ways than i expected. i thought you were just going to be a one-time customer, but you kept visiting. kept accompanying me." he barely whispers out the last part, his breath fanning into the cold air. "it's sweet. i look forward to it everyday." a small red tint appears on soobin's ears, as he looks down in embarrassment.

you tightened your grip around his arm, giggling in silence. "i have a confession too. i set an alarm on my phone, reminding me everyday to walk over to your cafe at midnight. that's what explains my consistency, it's because i want to see you. everyday." your voice becomes smaller as you continued. "i guess what i'm saying is that.. i like you." you confessed, burying your face into his arm.

soobin lifted your face, before leaning in, pressing his lips onto yours. you swear you could feel fireworks explode as your heart pumps in such a familiar rhythm that you can't help the nostalgic feeling that settles in your chest. "soo-bin", it pumps, and it keeps on pumping, the blood flowing through your body a reminder of how your love for him flows through you, almost naturally. you closed your eyes, pressing deeper into the kiss.

soobin pulled away, chest heaving. expectant eyes gaze upon you, his hair messed up, much like the day you two met. "i guess midnights will always belong to us." he said breathlessly.

"always."

₊˚ʚ

"you'll really be working here, right?" soobin asked for what seemed like the sixtieth time today. "yes, binnie. as long as you’re here." he hummed in sastifaction at your reply, cuddling further into your chest.

“wait, angel.” you softly nudged him away, smoothening your clothes over as you put on your customary smile. “welcome to azure dreams, what can i get you?” your fingers hovered over the display, but something else is hovering behind you as well. soobin gazes at you from behind, pouting as you politely handle the customer. turns out, the only reason why azure dreams “fell out of business” is because soobin, your dearest, cutest boyfriend forgot to flip the “open/close” sign every time he opened the cafe. the only reason why you managed to meet him two months ago was because you were too tired to even notice the sign..

“i didn’t know you were so good at handling other people but suddenly able to push your boyfriend away. it’s like you don’t care about me at all.. am i not the one who secured you a good schedule and a job? you just threw me to one side like i mean nothing. and to think you confessed to sweetly on that very rooftop! so this is how younger people treat their elders nowadays-” soobin keeps on talking in the back of the kitchen, lips moving at a speed you can’t even read. you lunged forward, catching his lips in a kiss. a deep blush rose to soobin’s face, eyes widening as his hands flutter about as he can’t even seem to find a proper place to put it. on the counter or on your waist?! what if his colleagues walk in..! before he can even finish contemplating, you pull yourself away from him. “you talk a lot, baby.” you teased, before bouncing away to actually do your job.

soobin touched his lips, eyes trailing your figure as you worked. god, he’s so whipped.

₊˚ʚ 🌌 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ 🌀 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ❄️ ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ 🌫 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ

@studiogyu @daddldee

74 notes · View notes