#the best part of having laundry here is that he forced me to go back to mavs park | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

purple-babygirl · 7 months ago

Text

in the far corner of the forest III

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 6,540

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: hand injury, mentions of blood, wound sutures/stitches, angry behaviour, jealousy, fighting, crying, racism against orcs. I think that's all.

A/N: this is the longest part yet because it might take me a while with part 4 depending on how the very important interview i have on the 17th goes. please send me good wishes on the stars if possible i would really appreciate it. And please enjoy this one and let me know what you thought if you can xx💜💜

“I got you something, little human,” Bucky said, his tone softer than it was that same afternoon as he scratched the back of his head.

He was new to courting, and it wasn’t exactly normal that he was courting his already-wife. Still, he was doing everything possible.

Bucky’s life has all been about fighting and wars. He didn’t do love or courtship. He didn’t do coddling or romancing. But there was a first time for everything and he was trying his best.

“Thank you,” she replied without looking up, pretending to be focused on folding laundry.

She was ignoring him.

Bucky had let his voice get loud a couple of hours ago after he had found her lost in the forest again. Only this time her foot was already messed up and she needed the rest, but she wouldn’t listen.

It hurt him how much pain she was willing to go through if it meant she could get away from him, but he wouldn’t let it show.

Instead, he yelled in frustration as he brought her back to their cottage.

She seemed like she wouldn’t quit, and so he wasn’t going to quit either.

Despite her constant rejection, Bucky refused to give up, his determination fueled by a newfound sense of purpose. He was willing to endure anything, face anything, if it meant earning even a glimmer of acceptance, or even affection, from her.

“You didn’t even see what I got you,” Bucky tried again, hoping she would at least look at him.

When she did, he gave a tiny smile and walked to the cottage door, bringing something inside.

“Here.” He dragged in a shiny wooden chair and placed it before his on their small dining table.

“You bought me a chair,” she said, pretending to be uninterested to hide the warmth that just spread throughout her heart.

“I made you a chair,” Bucky corrected, proudly palming the smooth wood, swiping his tongue over his tusks.

Bucky knew gifts were an essential part of courting and he didn’t like how she had to eat on the bed while he ate alone on the dining table because he only owned one chair.

He knew his days as a loner were long gone and it made his heart swell that he had her to share his house and life with now.

So he got to work and decided to make her her own chair out of an old oak tree. Being a lumberjack who had a woodworking shop had its perks after all.

It was going to be a weekend surprise, but he thought now was better timing after the fight they just had.

“You— you made this? From scratch?” She stood up in surprise, laundry forgotten for now.

“Yes.”

“For me?” She asked, not able to hide her emotions at the kind gesture anymore.

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled, taking a step back so she could examine the chair.

She sat down and a big smile found its way on her lips when she looked up at Bucky. The chair was comfy and new and hers.

No one has ever gotten her anything, let alone made her something so beautiful. It was so special and a flood of emotions washed over her at the idea that someone had actually thought of her enough to make her a chair. That Bucky had made her a chair.

“Thank you,” she whispered, breaking eye contact so that she wouldn’t tear up.

Bucky only nodded in reply, internally celebrating the win with his heart doing backflips. She liked the chair.

She stood up and closed the small distance between her and the orc, getting on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek, “welcome home.”

She quickly put the clean laundry in its place in the closet and went to the kitchen to start dinner, leaving Bucky with the most idiotic smile on his face as he shifted back and forth on his feet like a teenager.

She was punishing him for yelling at her by not making dinner, but that chair and the effort behind it deserved a good meal.

She was cleaning up after dinner later that night when she heard Bucky moving stuff outside. She didn’t pay it much mind; it was his house after all.

“Come outside, little human,” his voice called for her and she tentatively stepped out of the kitchen.

Bucky was standing by the open cottage door, a hopeful smile on his face as he encouragingly nodded for her to come over to him.

She didn’t know what to think, but any chance not to stay cooped up inside the cottage was going to receive a yes from her.

It wasn’t like she was ungrateful. She was certainly thankful she had a roof over her head and warm walls that she could hide inside from the rain and the cold.

But again, her situation wasn’t the most ideal either. If it was up to her, she would have stayed at the orphanage with the rest of the girls because if her fate was drawn for her to be an isolated orc’s wife, she didn’t want to be married.

When she stepped outside, however, marriage and Bucky didn’t seem that bad for a second.

“I thought we could watch the stars now that the sky was clear,” Bucky explained, internally nervous that she might call him ridiculous and refuse to sit with him.

He had waited for a day without rain and laid out a thick blanket on the ground before their cottage, the way lit for her feet by a close by lantern he had put out.

She was enthralled, mouth open and breath stolen. Tears welled up in her eyes, a mixture of joy and disbelief engulfing her.

Bucky has even went as far as bringing out the shawl he had gotten her just in case she felt cold.

It was just like… a date.

Her heart raced and she smiled shyly at the orc, making him smile too as he watched her sit down on the blanket, holding her knees to her as she glanced up at the night sky nervously.

She has never been on a date before in her life, the town’s boys always picking other girls from the orphanage to fool around with, but never her. She was never really anyone’s type.

She slightly shook her head to shut down her insecure thoughts, knowing that none of those player town boys could have ever brought her on a date like this.

“Is the ground too cold?” Bucky asked as he draped her shawl over her shoulders.

She hugged the soft material around her body, smiling gratefully at the orc as she shook her head.

She was too shy to even speak at this point, her mind barely registering the amazingly romantic end to her day that Bucky had brought into existence.

Bucky then laid down on his back, wordlessly urging her to do the same.

She got on her back, eyes mesmerized by the sight of the stars. She has never seen so many before, her view from her room’s window at the orphanage was very limited.

It was different here in the middle of the woods because there were no town lights to take the view away from the sky and it was gorgeous.

“So beautiful,” she whispered with a smile, observing how the stars sparkled above them.

“Yes, the most beautiful,” Bucky whispered back, watching her as she watched the sky.

He wished she could one day look at him the same way she was looking at those stars; the same way he was looking at her.

In his eyes, there was a mix of determination and yearning, reflecting his unwavering commitment to win her heart despite her initial reluctance. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her, drinking in every detail as if he couldn’t believe she was really here, right next to him.

She turned her eyes to him, her shy smile widening, “thank you for this, Bucky.”

Gods, the way she said his name was something else.

“You’re welcome, sweet thing.” Bucky smiled back, turning his eyes back to the sky as to not make her uncomfortable under his stare.

As they silently continued stargazing, she felt her heart become lighter. She felt so serene, so content, and she had suddenly forgiven Bucky for raising his voice at her just hours ago, wanting nothing but for this peacefulness to last for as long as possible.

Was it imaginable for marriage to be this good? Could her life finally be turning around?

She couldn’t help but want to see Bucky in a different light in this very moment.

She knew that he was harsh sometimes, but she also knew that she wasn’t making it easy for him either.

Maybe she didn’t choose him and didn’t choose this marriage, but Bucky was trying with real effort and she wasn’t blind to it.

Bucky cared for her when she was sick. He provided for her. He brought her gifts, filled up her half of the closet for her with anything and everything she could need. And he, most importantly, apologized when he was in the wrong, which wasn’t something common for the human males of this kingdom. He also respected her boundaries and hadn’t tried touching her after their first night together.

Could this all be preparation for the purpose of bedding?

No, it couldn’t be. Bucky didn’t need to do this to get her in his bed. He had already had her there and he had willingly let her go. He could have his way with her anytime if he really wanted to.

She wanted to believe that this moment was real so bad. She wanted to believe that Bucky was trying to win her heart.

So she did.

And if Bucky was trying, she was going to start trying too.

She knew just the thing to do actually.

She was going to make Bucky strawberry jam tomorrow to show him how grateful she was.

She might have not much to offer, but she knew she made the most delicious fruit jams and marmalades. It was her specialty at the orphanage. All the other girls always managed to ruin the jams, adding too much or too little sugar, applying too much heat or not enough, eventually producing something inedible. But not her. No, that was one thing she knew with her whole heart that she was good at.

She might’ve not been the prettiest of the girls, but she deserved a good life and she was now determined to build one. With Bucky.

She wasn’t in love with him, she knew that, but she didn’t need love to have a good marriage. Respect and effort were going to be enough.

This marriage could be her chance at building a life worth living.

“Could you bring home some strawberries tomorrow?”

“Oh my gods, this is amazing!” Bucky exclaimed, sliding another spoonful of strawberry jam in his mouth.

“I’m happy you like it,” she replied proudly, a smile plastered on her timid features as she brought a basket of sliced bread to the table.

It felt so good to have someone other than the orphanage girls taste her hand’s making. Receiving Bucky’s praise felt so much different than all the compliments she’s ever received before.

It felt… way better.

“It’s really good, little human.” Bucky was too busy adding jam on the piece of bread in his hand, groaning as he slipped it into his mouth and chewed, “how much of this did you make?”

She laughed, “well, I wanted to start with a small pot because I didn’t know if you liked jam and I didn’t wanna throw out any of it, but we have enough if you finish this and want more!”

“None of this is getting thrown out, little human,” Bucky told her seriously, “I asked because I wanted to take some to Sarah. She has a sweet tooth and she would love this.”

A frown quickly replaced her smile at the mention of another female’s name. She suddenly felt like wanting to take the bowl of jam away from the orc. Hell, she felt like she wanted to get back the jam he had already ate and swallowed.

“Who’s Sarah?” She asked, trying to act nonchalant as she greased her bread with some jam.

“She’s Sam’s sister,” Bucky answered innocently, oblivious to the way she hummed with her jaw clenched.

“And who’s Sam?”

“Oh, right, you don’t know Sam. He’s my best friend; and my partner in the shop. Great guy,” Bucky told her, more interested in the jam than her reaction.

At least Sam was a male.

So just to be clear, Bucky wanted to take the jam she made to his best friend’s sister so she could have a taste and satisfy her sweet tooth? Yeah, she didn’t like that very much.

“Is she, like, married?” She wondered, trying hard not to show her anger.

“Who?” Bucky asked, chewing the bite in his mouth, the foreign question finally gaining his attention.

“Sweet tooth Sarah,” she answered with a somewhat bitter tone that Bucky has never heard before, her thumb swiping under his plump lips before she could stop herself as she harshly wiped away jam from the orc’s face.

The realization as to why her mood had suddenly turned sour made Bucky smile as he hurriedly swallowed his food, “little human,”

She looked up at him with a silent glare.

Despite her efforts to appear unaffected, there was a vulnerability in her eyes, a hint of insecurity betraying her true feelings

“Are you… jealous?”

Bucky’s amused smile made her even angrier as she watched his lips literally twitching.

Jealous? Pfft, of course not! Why would she be jealous!

“No!” She replied aloud defensively, “it was just a question.” She stood up, collecting the plates from the table without asking if Bucky was done eating.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Bucky laughed, holding onto the small bowl of jam.

“Try to save some for your Sarah,” she snapped, snatching her hand from the orc’s as she let him have the bowl.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her surprising reaction, his widening smile still glued to his face.

She frustratingly sped to the kitchen, violently twisting the water tab open as she rolled her sleeves up and started washing the things in the sink.

She had went through all this trouble and used all of these bowls that she now had to wash just for him to want to take her jam to another female to eat.

Who did he think he was?

It was her fault for trying to do something nice in the first place.

He didn’t even answer her question, and that Sarah was probably unmarried. She was probably an orc too. Yeah, it made sense that Bucky would be attracted to someone similar to him. Those two ‘friends’ were probably part of his clan.

The clan he never introduced her to.

How naive was she to think this marriage could actually work?

Bucky was outside still smiling to himself like a fool as he finished the rest of her sweet jam.

She was jealous. She was jealous over him.

He didn’t want to upset her though, so he didn’t say anything, letting her calm down first.

He took the empty bowl to her, setting it in the sink as she avoided looking at him.

She heard him chuckle as he left the kitchen and it made her punch the sponge in her hand inside the bowl, pounding it angrily as she ‘washed’ it clean.

When she was done cleaning the kitchen and brushing her teeth, she stomped out to the bed, getting in and covering herself from head to toe as she gave Bucky her back.

Bucky walked to the lanterns and dimmed their lights before joining her in bed.

He laid on his back, innocently waiting for his good night’s kiss.

A minute passed. 2 minutes. 5 minutes. The kiss didn’t come.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered as not to startle her in the dark, “we had a deal. Where’s my kiss?” He put a hopeful hand on her shoulder, trying to twist her to face him.

“Have Sarah give you your kiss,” she replied with a deadpan tone, masking her fury as she pushed her pillow over her head, shrugging Bucky’s touch off her body.

Bucky stared at the back turned to him with an open mouth as he took his hand away and laid back, disappointment replacing his surprise and filling him up.

It was the first time since she had started feeling well again that she has refused to give him any of his kisses. Yet, respectful of her feelings, Bucky let her.

Maybe making her jealous wasn’t all that fun after all. But he didn’t even mean to make her jealous, he was just talking!

Bucky sighed, turning on his side as well as he fell asleep staring at the hidden back of her head.

The next morning as she put his breakfast on the table, she didn’t sit or eat with him, preferring to scrub the kitchen sink while Bucky ate even though she had just washed it the night before.

She didn’t give him his good morning kiss either; didn’t even speak to him.

She was still mad at him. This was serious for her, he realized.

Bucky might have found it fun last night, but today as she deliberately ignored his existence, he wanted nothing but to make her understand that what was in her head was nothing like the truth.

“Here, I packed jam for your sweet tooth Sarah,” she said harshly as she set a small jar of strawberry jam on the table before him.

“She’s not my—”

“Hope she likes it,” she cut him off, disappearing into the kitchen again.

Bucky sighed aloud, running a hand over his face as he stood up. Grabbing the jam, he took one look at the kitchen entrance before leaving the house for work with a clenched jaw.

She peeked outside when she heard the door shut to see the table empty. Bucky had taken the jar to Sarah.

Oh, that was it.

She could take being given to an orc against her will. She could take never having been chosen or given the chance to choose. She could take not being loved.

But she couldn’t and wouldn’t take being cheated on.

Was that why Bucky had decided to relieve her off her wifely duties in bed? Because he had another female? Was it because he had someone else to keep him warm and wet where he needed to be?

She couldn’t even think about the idea without feeling herself gag.

Why would he ruin her life by bringing her here when he already had that Sarah?!

How could she be so dumb, trying to meet him in the middle like that? Starting a peaceful life with this orc was never going to work!

She tried to pick the lock on the door like she usually would, but the new lock Bucky had put in wouldn’t budge.

She groaned in frustration before hauling herself up and out of the cottage window, running off to gods know where, hoping that luck would be her friend for once and maybe lead her somewhere out of these woods for good this time.

This marriage ends today.

Back at the shop, Bucky was as exasperated as they come as he used his chisel to shape the rough piece of wood in his hand.

After everything he was doing, how could she think that he had someone else? What was he doing wrong? What was missing?

Bucky had only ever wanted her. He thought he was the luckiest orc just because he got to fall asleep next to her every night.

How could he make her see that?

As his mind ran with thoughts and before Bucky could stop it, the chisel slipped and sharply cut the inside of his palm.

“Gods, fuck!” He shouted in pain as blood started flowing from the fresh wound.

Bucky tried to get the chisel from the floor so that no one would step on it, but his hand hurt more when he tried to squeeze his fist around the item. He grabbed it with his metal hand instead, rushing to the supply closet to find a clean towel to wrap around his cut.

He couldn’t continue working like that; couldn’t do anything with his hand.

Sam insisted on sending for his sister after seeing the amount of blood staining the cloth around Bucky’s hand.

Sarah tried to be efficient while messily stitching the wound as best as she could, wrapping it up carefully with gauze before advising Bucky to take a few days off work until his hand was healed. She was no doctor but she did her best for her friend.

Bucky thanked both siblings, giving Sarah the jam jar before leaving to go back home as his friends insisted.

He thought that his day couldn’t get any worse, but then he opened the cottage door to find the place empty and he could all but forget about his injury as he slammed his fist against the wall, crying out in anger. If his wound had started bleeding again, Bucky didn’t care.

“What the hell did you think you were doing out there again?!”

Bucky was enraged. He had found her wandering around the forest, as lost and as stubborn as ever.

“Getting as far away from you as possible.” She crossed her arms, her stare upset and unbending.

“And going where exactly!” He shouted, the idea of her spending the night inside a cold cave clawing at his back.

“Anywhere but here!” She yelled back, her face so hot she could feel sweat forming on her hairline in the middle of winter.

“It’s going to snow soon! Do you wanna get sick again?” Bucky held her by the arm, not too roughly as he didn’t really want to cause any real damage.

Neither of them noticed his blood staining her clothes.

She was too infuriated to notice Bucky’s hand wrapped in gauze. She saw nothing but red.

“I don’t care. I just don’t wanna be with you!” She retorted, snatching her arm out of his hold and pushing at his chest.

Though he didn’t move, her touch too weak to do anything to his colossal body, Bucky was hurt.

“Are you doing all of this just because of a little jealousy? Gods, human females are just—” Bucky shook his head in frustration.

“Jealousy? Hah! You think I’m jealous?” She faked a laugh, “this is not even a real marriage! What’s there for me to be jealous over?!” She continued raising her voice, the mention of her jealousy provoking her further.

Her words hurt Bucky more, the real gash now slashed across his heart.

Not even a real marriage.

Despite everything he was doing and trying, she still didn’t consider their marriage a real marriage.

“Well, do you wanna make it real, little human?” Bucky growled lowly, bringing her closer to his heaving chest by her arm, painting the sleeve of her dress in more of his blood.

Her heart thrummed in her ears at the proximity, her breath trembling as she imagined what the orc could do to her if he only wanted to.

“Let go of me,” she whispered as tears clouded her vision, hoping he wouldn’t be able to hear how scared she was in her voice.

Bucky complied, hating how nervous she got in the span of a second.

She ran to the kitchen at once, a hand on her chest as she felt her heart trying to escape her ribcage.

What an audacious orc! He was already with someone else and he dared threaten her with taking her to bed?! Damn, she was so stupid to think they could make something good out of this marriage. So stupid.

Bucky took a seat on the bed, face in his metal hand as he tried to gather his thoughts.

He had almost lost her for the millionth time today.

Was it going to be like this forever? What could he do to make it stop? How could he show her that this life with her was all he ever wanted? That he never wanted anybody else?

“You’re not gonna eat with me?” He asked when he saw her slam one bowl of rice on the table.

“I’m not hungry,” she replied curtly, her eyes on the ground and her jaw tense as she waited for him to get off the bed.

Bucky moved away understandably, taking a seat on the dining table instead as she climbed in bed, burying herself under the covers and hiding away from him.

Bucky knew she wasn’t asleep and he needed to talk to her; or at least see her face.

How was he supposed to have an appetite to eat if she wasn’t on the table with him, her beautiful eyes facing him and her shy smile greeting him every time he would moan over the taste of her delicious food?

“Hey.”

She felt the bed dip next to her as it took on Bucky’s body, his warm hand on her shoulder just like last night.

“Let your sweet tooth Sarah give you a kiss,” she spoke before he could say anything.

“This is not about the kiss. And She’s not my Sarah,” Bucky told her, turning her on her back so she could see his sincere face and hopefully believe him, “she’s not my anything. She’s just a good friend.”

She snorted, not buying it as she turned back to face the wall.

Bucky brought her back to him again, “she’s not married. She’s a widow, who is loyal to the memory of her husband, with two kids that are her whole world.” Bucky answered her earlier question, not wanting to hide anything from her.

“That’s none of my business.” She pretended to be uninterested, giving him the cold shoulder for the third time as she turned away, covering her head with the blanket.

Deep inside, she knew she was relieved to know that Sarah wasn’t interested though.

“It is your business,” Bucky sighed, taking the blanket away from her hands, making her look at him again, “it is your business when you think I’m involved with her.”

“You can do whatever you want.” She shrugged, acting indifferent, making Bucky more frustrated.

He released a loud exhale, “you’re what I want, little human.”

She remained silent, not expecting the orc’s patience or this admittance.

He had told her he wanted her before, but that was on their ‘wedding night’ when he had forced her to get completely naked for him.

This one was different. It sounded different and felt different.

“You don’t have to say all these things. We both know how this marriage came to be a thing.” She tried her best to hold her tears in.

“How did it come to be a thing?” Bucky wanted to see inside her head.

“How?” She sat up, her voice loud yet wobbly with emotions, “they gave you an orphaned girl you didn’t get to see or pick beforehand to make up for making you go to war for them, that’s how!” She felt bad for him, but even more for herself.

So she had read the contracts.

“Who told you I didn’t get to see or pick you?” Bucky swallowed.

“What do you mean?!”

“I’ve seen you before, little human. More than once. And I asked for you to be my wife instead of the noble man’s daughter I was originally offered.” Bucky came clean about the truth behind their arranged marriage.

“You what?!” She became even angrier.

He did this? She was here now because of him?!

“I willingly picked you, little human.”

“Why! Why me! Did you ever stop to think that I might not want this? Or you?!” She practically screamed in anger.

Who was he to decide her future for her? Why didn’t he just take the nobleman’s daughter!

“I did. But you were the only human female who has ever caught my attention. I couldn’t take my eyes off you every time I won a glimpse.” Bucky confessed, his light grey skin gaining a tint at the cheeks as he bared his heart to her, “I knew I couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you, little human.”

Won a glimpse

Couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you

No one has ever used such words to describe an act so normal as looking at her. No one had ever wanted or needed her. Why was her heartbeat speeding up? What was that orc doing to her?

“The minute you entered my cottage, you became my one and only. I don’t want anyone but you.” He promised, squeezing her smaller hand in his, “I will live and die loyal to you, little human.”

She knew he was telling the truth because she had heard the stories. Loyalty was very important to orcs and their mates were for life.

She just stared at Bucky, words stolen from her throat by the way he was looking at her.

No one has ever looked at her like that. Like she was the most beautiful thing they could see. Like she was the only girl in the world. Like she was the only one with any sort of control over this orc’s mind and heart.

“When I suggested gifting Sarah some jam, I was only thinking of doing something nice for a friend.”

She listened with a frown, a little angry again at the mention of the other female’s name.

“If it wasn’t for Sam and Sarah and the boys, I wouldn’t have survived a lot of things. They are my only friends and the only ones I can share nice things with.”

“The only ones?” She pouted, turning her face to the dining table in discontent.

“That’s not what I meant! I just— I’m not used to saying such things, but—” Bucky took a deep breath, squeezing her smaller hand closer, “I was so proud of you being my wife and knowing how to make such delicious things that I wanted the important ones in my life to share it with me…”

Bucky didn’t have to know, but those words were everything to her because when she thought about it, no one has ever been proud to know or have her. No one has ever been proud of her for anything.

But Bucky was, and he wanted to show her off.

When she looked back at the orc, he was staring at the blanket covering her thighs, doubtful to meet her gaze.

Bucky looked… nervous, if you will.

She smiled, eyes tearing up despite herself as she waited for him to look back at her.

When he did, Bucky was instantly smiling back at the sight of her grin. That smile was the whole world for him; it sent him up on cloud nine.

“Have dinner with me?” He asked, his metal thumb wiping away a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

She nodded, her smile bigger as she got up and walked to the kitchen to make herself a plate, her heart going a hundred miles per minute as she couldn’t make her smile leave her face.

She wanted to be angrier over the fact that he got to choose and she didn’t, but then again, if she was being honest with herself, she probably could have never dreamt up a husband as good as Bucky was to her if she tried.

She believed that everything happened for a reason and she was too dreamy not to imagine that this whole marriage had to happen exactly the way it did just for her to meet this orc, and maybe, against all odds, have her happy ending with him.

Taking the lid off of the rice pot, she finally saw it: her palm covered in fresh blood.

“Oh gods!” She quickly washed her hand under the water, seeing and feeling no injuries, the realization that it must be Bucky’s blood sent a pang to her chest.

“Bucky?” Tears blurred her vision as she found the orc in the bathroom, trying and failing to remove the wrapping around his right palm with his left one.

She had been forced into this marriage, a union she never agreed to, but as she watched him struggle to tend to his wound, something inside her softened.

How did she not notice that he had come home with a covered up hand?

“Are you okay?!” Bucky asked, troubled to see her crying even when he was the one bleeding above his bathroom sink.

Her heart clenched at the sight; at the care in his cerulean eyes, “what happened to you?”

She sped up to get the first-aid box from him, getting out everything she was going to need as she looked at his bloody palm.

“It’s nothing, sweet thing,” Bucky told her softly, hating the look of anxiety on her precious face even if it was for him; even if it was making him feel all sorts of things, “just a scratch, really. Nothing I can’t handle”.

She tenderly finished unwrapping his hand, gasping as she saw the bleeding gash across it, “this doesn’t look like nothing!” She cried, more tears streaming down her face, “how did you get this?”

“I just hurt myself while working…” Bucky’s metal hand hesitantly pat her shoulder.

“Bucky.” She looked up at him, not believing that that was the only reason because the wound seemed to be loosely stitched and it was obvious that something had happened to make the wound bleed after it had been stitched.

“And I might have punched the wall when I came home and didn’t find you,” Bucky mumbled lowly, not wanting to make her feel bad.

It was just a silly scrape compared to what he had to endure back when he was still fighting wars, really.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into the back of her hand, feeling terrible for all the things she has been putting him through ever since she came here.

“Hey, I’m okay.” Bucky’s metal hand cupped her cheek, his smooth thumb sliding across to wipe her tears.

“No, you’re not.” She shook her head in deep regret, not believing that he was still the one reassuring her in such a state.

“I am, I swear on our marriage.” Bucky wiped under her eyes patiently, caring about nothing but her heart carrying no burdens.

She was speechless because did Bucky just use their marriage to swear? Was it really that important to him that he would swear on it?

She didn’t care that this was an arranged marriage in possibly the most twisted of ways, a woman knew love when she encountered it and that orc’s eyes were showing nothing but pure love.

In the middle of her heart’s longing for a person to care about her, she couldn’t bring herself to step on Bucky’s. Trying to calm her down when he was the one injured and dripping blood? Yeah, that was an orc worth trying, caring and staying for.

“I’m— I’m gonna need to redo the stitches, is that okay?” She sniffled, relaxing herself as she wordlessly promised those concerned blue eyes to give them and this marriage her all.

“Yes.” Bucky smiled when he saw her wipe her tears away and the smile she gave him back made his heart soar.

“It might hurt a little, but just for a short bit, okay?”

Bucky nodded, not believing how delicately she was handling his huge hand with her smaller ones.

He was glad she never had to witness him back then or the actually deadly injuries he had had inflicted on him during wars. He wouldn’t have been able to take that look of fear in her eyes after every fight.

“Who did those sloppy stitches anyway?” She wondered in dissatisfaction with the work and Bucky swallowed hard.

She looked at him knowingly when he remained silent, “it was sweet tooth Sarah, wasn’t it?” She asked with half a smile as she started cautiously taking out the old stitches with the tweezers.

“Yes.” Bucky nodded sheepishly, “but Sam only called for her help because they don’t offer me help in the kingdom’s infirmaries.”

“What?!” Her head snapped up angrily.

They don’t offer him service at the infirmaries?! After all that he had done for this kingdom?

“I’m no longer a soldier of their own so…” Bucky shrugged with a sad smile.

Her expression went from angry to devastated to angry again in less than a second, “this is gonna sting a little.” She warned as she disposed of the old sutures in the bin.

“Don’t be upset, little human.”

She looked up, not knowing what to say or how to apologize to the orc about the terrible treatment of this kingdom’s people, but his smile told her that everything was going to be all right. She couldn’t help but smile back.

Her eyes swayed between his palm and his face as she started disinfecting the wound with the piece of sterilized cotton in her hand.

Bucky hissed and winced, making her stop at once.

“I’m sorry! I’m so so—”

“Ha, fooled ya! It’s not that bad,” Bucky laughed, amused at her reaction, instantly earning himself a slap on his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Hey, you can’t do that to the injured!” Bucky whined playfully.

“Can’t I?” She teased, biting her smile back.

He smiled wider because she could.

Oh, she could do anything to him and he would take it with a smile and thank her for it.

For a heartbeat, the world around Bucky seemed to blur as he focused solely on her, engraving every detail of her smile into his memory. It was a sight he never wanted to forget, a ray of light in the darkness that had clouded his years for so long.

Everything was going to be okay, Bucky thought as he brought her to his chest with his metal arm, praying to the gods she wouldn’t pull away.

“I’m— I’m almost done,” she muttered coyly, trying to make him let her go so she could finish tending to his injury.

But then she felt it: her husband’s tusks were pressing gently on her scalp as Bucky kissed her hair.

Her breath caught in her throat, a mixture of surprise and tenderness washing over her as she felt herself wanting to stay longer inside his embrace.

“Thank you, little human,” he whispered lovingly.

As she tilted her head slightly to meet Bucky’s captivating eyes, she found herself lost in the depths of their oceans, catching a vulnerability she hadn't noticed before.

She looked deeper and she realized that beneath his rugged exterior lied a heart capable of great tenderness, a heart that might just beat for her and her alone.

She beamed again as she softly replied, “you’re welcome, Bucky.”

Yeah, they were going to be okay.

Part IV

Tag List:

@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @sapphirebarnes @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie @justherefortheficandsmut @xxdiaqiaoxx @morgthemagpie @wintrsoldrluvr @goldylions

406 notes · View notes

callsign-rogueone · 1 month ago

Text

defective

Bodhi Durran x reader, Brennan Sorrengail & reader words: 1.7k 🏷️: did somebody say more chronically ill reader? with sweet baby Bodhi this time, and reader with a heart condition. negativity about illness / reader thinking they’re weak, others calling them weak / defective / etc., but not Bodhi or Brennan (they would never.) Brennan makes an appearance as an older brother figure, reader is referred to as she/her and a girl by members of the assembly but not by Bodhi. I think cuddling Bodhi would cure me of all my ills. I got the idea for this the other day when I went up stairs carrying a laundry basket and almost fainted. I would not make it up to the parapet, let alone be able to cross it lmao. anyway, here, have this. already plotting a part two of them reuniting after Resson 🥺

The assembly are too busy arguing to notice you standing in the doorway — arguing about you, you realize quickly.

“We can’t send her to her death.”

“We’ve been forced to send 15 to their potential deaths so far, with 92 more to go. Why is she any different from the rest?”

“You know damn well why, Ulices,” Brennan snaps. “Everyone else has a fighting chance, but there’s no way she’s going to survive the parapet, let alone the rest of the year.”

“There’s 250 steps up to the parapet. She won’t even make it to the top,” another voice adds.

“There’s still time to fix that. They don’t leave for another three months.”

“You can’t fix her,” Trissa says firmly. “No amount of time in the gym will change the fact that she’s defective. She’ll never be able to do the things that the others can. She’s too weak.”

The word echoes in your ears. Defective.

Your gaze falls to the empty chair — Xaden’s chair. What would he say if he was here? Would he let them call you weak? What would he say? Maybe it’s for the best that you don’t know. It would only hurt you to hear that the boy you’ve always idolized and regarded as an older brother call you weak and pathetic.

“So what would you have us do?” Felix asks.

“Either we send her with the rest, knowing her name will be at the top of the death roll on conscription day, and her blood will coat our hands forever, or we tell Navarre that she died, and keep her here. It should be believable enough that the weakling girl with the heart problem died young. It’s a miracle she hasn’t died already.”

Tears blur your vision, and you bring a hand up to swipe them away with your sleeve. The whisper of the fabric moving is enough to give you away; five heads turn toward the door, seeing you standing there.

Something compels you to run away — likely the fact that you’d been caught eavesdropping by the entire assembly. These meetings aren’t secret, but there’s an unwritten rule that the kids aren’t invited, especially if it isn’t a routine meeting.

Brennan calls your name, but you ignore him, moving faster, intent on getting back to the room you’ve been sleeping in and shutting the door in his face so you can cry alone in peace.

He catches up with you quickly, his strides longer and his movements faster. He lays a gentle hand on your arm. “Hey,” he coaxes.

You stop and turn toward him, knowing that you can’t run again — he’s faster than you, and moving would also be a very bad idea right now; you feel like you’re going to fall over.

“I’m so sorry, kid.”

“Not your fault,” you rasp, fumbling for the wall and pressing your hand into it to support yourself.

“Hold on to me,” he instructs. “Can I check your pulse?”

You nod, regretting the motion when it makes your head spin faster, and wrap your hand around his forearm, using him as an anchor to hold yourself up.

“Attagirl. Keep breathing.”

You work on deepening your breaths, filling your lungs all the way before you exhale, like he’d taught you last year.

Hot, frustrated tears slip down your cheeks.

They’re right. You are defective. You can’t even run down a hallway without your body giving up on you. You wouldn’t be able to get up to the parapet, let alone cross it after that exertion — you can hardly stand right now.

“Talk to me,” he asks after a moment.

“I don’t want to go,” you say softly, “but to stay here, and let all my friends go where I can’t ever see them or help them, knowing they could die any day…”

“I know. I felt the same way when my sister started, but she’s a full fledged Captain now. Commands her own unit in Montserrat,” he says quietly, but it sounds like it pains him to say it — to tell you that she’s on the other side of the fight. “They’re all strong, they’ll make it through. And they’ll have each other to lean on.”

You nod again, and this time it doesn’t make you dizzy. “Yeah,” you say hollowly. “They’re strong.”

He immediately knows what you’re getting at. “Hey. I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t think you’re weak. I think you’re just at too much of a disadvantage to risk it. Your strengths lie elsewhere— not in the physical.”

“If only we could be scribes,” you sigh.

“If only,” he says softly. “My youngest sister is going to start in the scribe’s quadrant the year after this. She’s a lot like you, actually. She was born with an issue with her bones. She’s got a heart of gold, though. And she’s incredibly smart, like you. I think you’d get along well.”

“If it wasn’t for this, yeah,” you say quietly, looking down at your relic.

He tries to hide his wince, but it doesn’t quite work. “I think she’d come around once she realized how great you are.”

“Whatever they decide, can you be the one to tell me? Alone?” you ask in a small voice. “I don’t want to see the looks on their faces. I know I’m an embarrassment to them, but I don’t want to be reminded of it.”

“You aren’t an embarrassment,” he chides softly. “But of course. I can tell you when they make their decision.”

“Thank you.”

He opens his arms to you. “C’mere, kid.”

You step forward, letting him guide you into a gentle embrace.

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” you ask into his shoulder.

“For surviving. For not giving up. For dealing with your symptoms every day and not letting it break you. For so many things. You’re amazing.”

“I don’t feel amazing.”

“That’s okay. I hope you will someday, though.”

“Someday,” you agree softly.

“Alright. Let’s get you back to your room.”

You nod, keeping a hand on his arm while he walks with you. He’s slowed his steps to match yours, but he doesn’t show any sign of impatience.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

“Of course, sweet girl. Get some rest. Bodhi should be back in a few hours.”

Your cheeks warm as you realize that Brennan knows about whatever you two have going on — you don’t call yourselves boyfriend and girlfriend, but you’re very close, and there’s definitely a spark there.

He drops a kiss to the top of your head, waiting to make sure you’re safely inside your room before he heads back down the hall.

———————

Bodhi shows up around sunset, his hair damp from the showers. He sits beside you on the edge of your bed, leaning back against the pillows. “Hi, lovie.”

“Hi.”

He tilts your chin up with a gentle movement of his knuckle, seeing the tears in your eyes. “Whoa, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not going to Basgiath,” you admit quietly.

“What?”

“The assembly decided that I’m too weak to even make it up the stairs to the parapet,” you answer, your voice wavering. “They’re going to tell Navarre that I died, because of my heart problem.”

Why are you crying again? You went over all this with Brennan already and got it out of your system �� but evidently not.

Bodhi looks conflicted. You watch the gears turn, and see him weigh the good and the bad. You won’t have to endure everything riders are put through, and the assembly is right, you wouldn’t survive it. But to stay here while everyone else risks their lives, with no way to communicate with them, would be crushing. And if you’re found out, Xaden’s life will end along with yours.

He gathers you up into his lap, holding you close. He smells good, clean — soap and the tiniest bit of cologne, something warm and woody. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“I am too,” you sniff. “I wish I could be there with you, but…”

“It’s for the best,” he says gently. “I’d rather you be here, safe with Bren and the elders, than overworking yourself every day, and making things worse.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I still feel guilty about it, though.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s just how you were made. And you know it doesn’t change the way that any of us feel about you. We all love you so much, because you’re you, and you’re our friend.”

“Love you too,” you sniff. “M’ gonna miss you so much.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m going to miss you too, every day. But I promise I’ll write — I know first years can’t send letters, but I’ll ask Xaden or Gare to send it for me. They’ll probably have to sign their names on it, and address it to someone else, but you’ll know it’s from me by the handwriting.”

That makes you feel a little better, but you’re still worried. “But when you graduate, and move across the continent…”

“Then I’ll come visit you here, as often as I can. Maybe I’ll be closeby. Or maybe Tyrrendor will be freed by then.”

“Maybe,” you sigh.

“I don’t want you to think for even a second that this means I’m letting go of you,” he says firmly. “You’re stuck with me, even if we’re apart, okay?”

“Okay,” you say quietly.

“Good. Now, I have had a very long day of having my ass kicked by Imogen, and I’d like to spend the rest of it laying here with my favorite person.”

You’re his favorite person? You must be looking at him in disbelief, because he laughs lightly, his chest shaking against yours. “Yes, you. I thought it was obvious. You’re the one I spend all my time with.”

“You’re my favorite person too,” you say softly.

He smiles. “I’m glad we sorted that out. Get comfy.”

You scoot off of his lap, settling down on the mattress. He slots himself in beside you, letting you work your way under his arm to rest your head on his chest. He’s put on a considerable amount of muscle in the last few months, and it’s so nice to rest your body against his like this, a strong arm keeping you in place as he reaches toward the foot of the bed for a blanket to drape over the both of you.

You hum sleepily, content to rest in the warmth of his body and the softness of the blanket.

“This good?”

“Perfect,” you murmur.

“Perfect indeed,” he agrees softly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and wrapping his fingers around your wrist, resting his thumb over your pulse point. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“G’night, Bo.”

#brennan sorrengail #bodhi durran #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #chronically ill reader

139 notes · View notes

redclercs · 1 year ago

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

ix. i'm so sick of running as fast as i can

— the one where they painted you out to be bad (so it's okay that you're mad).

warnings: fair warning you're going to be pissed, foul language, this one has more media between text and it's a little long. 2.3k words (+articles and a very long youtube thing!!)

currently playing: it's time to go by taylor swift!

masterlist ✢ next

By Alana Blake

YOU read it here first, friends. #YNCHARLES is still going strong even after the mess y/n found herself in during the Spanish Grand Prix weekend.

Rumor had it that after y/n's declarations where she said 'it was not serious' and 'she was just having fun', the Monegasque heartthrob dumped her immediately. This was fueled by the fact that we didn't see any pictures of them together during such weekend.

But sources have come to the rescue, letting us all know they're not broken up! "They talk every day for hours," our source said, "Both are still trying to keep it fun but more lowkey after everyone found out about the cheating."

RELATED: Victoria Presley's top five beauty hacks.

You would think that after a partner refers to you as a 'toy', dumping them is the best course of action, but apparently that doesn't apply to Mr. Leclerc who has "nothing but good things to say about y/n".

"He's excited to see her in New York before the Canada Grand Prix, they have it all planned out since she has her apartment back." The source added.

One thing is for sure, if we see y/n at the next Grand Prix, that's the big confirmation that they are together, since they blew their Elix cover by forcing them to end the contract.

SEE ALSO:

→ Victoria Presley's inauguration after party at the Grand Havana Room, you just had to be there.

→ Taylor Swift defends y/n y/ln: ''All of you have learned nothing!"

→ Aidan Kim on Charles Leclerc: "Never heard of him until my girlfriend cheated on me"

𝙂𝙊𝙏 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙊 𝙎𝘼𝙔? 𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙊𝙒!

You're seeing the top comments.

Anonymous – 4 hr ago

They're both so shameless! and charles was liking tweets saying they were friends like he could really trick us.

kollhha – 3 hr ago

I hate her, Charles dump her ass for the love of god.

adriennewells – 40 min ago

no but seriously what is it about y/n that has men brainwashed?

Anonymous – 10 min ago

They WOULD be cute together, i don't think they're dating though.

June 10th, Los Angeles, California

You fit your life for the past months into two suitcases, and a carry on. Your room at Vic's house is messy and it feels strangely empty without your discarded shoes and dirty laundry on the floor. But it's time to go, you cannot impose your presence in this enormous house anymore. You have felt like an intruder since you started traveling to Formula 1 and coming back every week like this is your hotel and not your best friend's home.

"Are you really going back to New York?" Vic asks from behind you, voice low with sadness.

"Yes, Vic, I have to." you sigh, turning to meet her. She's dressed up in her fucsia workout gear, holding a light ring in her left hand and her phone in the right. Your flight leaves in the evening and you were hoping to have a meal with Vic before parting to the airport, but it looks like she's all booked.

"No you don't," she argues, entering the room. "Hollywood is here, y/n why do you need to go back to New York? You're an actress!"

You feel like a lot of things, except for an actress right now.

"I don't think Hollywood wants me right now, Vic," you say, going back to the unmade bed to lie down. You asked the cleaning lady if she could leave your room for last so you could finish picking your stuff up, and she agreed gently. "Plus, I really miss New York."

"y/n you haven't even visited my store, you can't go!" Vic's tone changes in octave, and it's not her whiny 'please don't do this' tone you're so used to. "I asked you for ONE favor and you're running to New York and you can't do even just that?"

"Woah, Vic, what the fuck?" you use your elbows as support to lean up and look at her. "Calm down. It's okay." you know her tantrum comes from the fact that she truly believes you could boost her beauty line sales and make her store a 'hot spot'. And it would work, for the wrong reasons. You don't want Vic being dragged down into this mess too. Mati and Charles are enough casualties.

"NO IT'S NOT!" Victoria is full-on yelling now, the light ring has been tossed aside. "I have given everything you've asked from me in the past months since your life started falling apart. I think I deserve something in return."

You ignore the bite of her words. She's angry, which is understandable to some level. She doesn't mean it, right? That she always expected something in return.

"Vic, listen, I know how important your store is to you. But I promise you, you don't want the attention I'm bringing to anyone close to me right now."

"Oh, so you're doing this for my own good now?" she scoffs, ponytail flying in the air as she turns around. "Are you fucking Charles Leclerc for his own good too? Or do men's reputations don't matter?" she spits.

You halt completely, halfway out of the mattress. "What did you say?"

"Oh, please y/n. You really want me to believe you don't want to be seen with me to 'protect me'" she throws the quotations in the air, "And yet you went on your pretty vacation with that bitch Matilde, and you talk to fucking Charles Leclerc every day!"

"Victoria, stop," your brain is a mix of anger, sadness and confusion. You’re having trouble catching up to the where the conversation is going. "That was different, Vic. In case you haven't noticed, things can't stop getting worse. My life is not good right now." You choke on the last words, because it's the first time you say such things out loud. You have never been more miserable.

Victoria scoffs yet again, and it’s a tear in your heart. She's really not backing off. "Of course your life isn't good y/n wah, wah. You have money and beauty and a pilot boyfriend, it sucks so much to be you!"

"Why are you so bothered about it? Why is Charles the main problem here?" you wipe the tears from your cheeks, scratching the skin with one of your rings. "Why the fuck are you acting like this?"

Everything was alright this morning at breakfast, when you reminded her you were leaving and your luggage was almost done. When you thanked her for taking you in and told her you could never really repay her support.

"Because you get everything you want all the time!" Victoria stomps to you, her face inches away when she stops. "You always get what you want no matter what. It didn't even matter that I said you view him as a fucking piece of meat! He still went after you."

The world moves in slow-motion as her words cascade on you. Your lungs close and your throat tightens again, and you want to fight the panic attack because you just know Victoria is not going to help you. How could she? If she's the one who betrayed you.

"How–Why–" you stutter, the hem of your shirt on your fist. You can fight this. "How could you do this to me?"

Victoria finally comes to the realization of what she let out, and covers her mouth. "y/n no– look–"

"Who told you about the ring?" your jaw is locked and you're trying not to lose focus. "How could you tell them about the ring?!"

"How could you not tell ME?! I'm your fucking best friend, you bitch!" she's raising her voice again, her surprise pushed aside because you're still fighting. "I had to find out through Aidan, months later."

The Cannes party. Of course.

You thought about asking her about it. Telling her it hurt you that she hung out so happily with Aidan when he was the reason you arrived at her house one night in February, frightened, sad, and confused. But you didn't because you trusted her. You would have trusted Victoria with your life at some point.

"It really is you, then," tears are streaming down your face again.

You feel stupid because only yesterday, in another rage-scroll through Twitter, you noticed people were already making theories about how it was Victoria who was selling information about you. And you felt so offended, how could they think your best friend would do that to you?

"How could you, Victoria? How could you make all that shit up?"

You talked to Victoria about the articles. You cried and told her you were sorry you didn’t let her in on the failed proposal, it was something you were still processing and couldn’t bring yourself to talk about, still wondering if it had been a mistake every now and then. You told her how sorry you felt to Charles because he just wanted to hang out with you—to be friends with you—and people marked him down as a home wrecker when he had nothing to do with it.

“It was definitely Mia though, wasn’t it?” She said as she rubbed your back and passed the box of tissues to you. “She always hated you, so weird. It was like she loved Aidan in a fucked up way.” Victoria even shuddered exaggeratedly, trying to make you laugh.

“Yeah I’m sure it was Mia, Aidan just won’t admit it.” You let her wipe your tears and smooth your hair down. Nobody could convince you that your ex-sister-in-law didn’t run to People and spewed shit. It was the most logical conclusion that Aidan was protecting his little sister.

This had been three days ago, she lied and made fun of you, to your face.

"So now I'm a liar? You are fucking Charles Leclerc! Or what, you expect me to believe all you do is hold hands and peck each other's cheeks?"

Again with Charles, it infuriates you.

"You told the press I'm a cheater! And I am NOT with Charles, God you're so stupid!"

"How would I know whether it's true or not? You never tell me anything anymore, do you? You don't care about me! I'm your best friend. I deserve to be your priority!"

"You deserve to rot in hell, you lying bitch." you don't even raise your voice anymore, "How could I ever love you?"

Victoria laughs, and your heart finally shatters. "I would do it again, y/n, because it's what you forced me to do."

The apartment is a mess, and you know it's on purpose. Your clothes are everywhere, the dirt from the plants you kept on the balcony is all over the floor, the coffee table is broken and your room looks like a hurricane passed through. Your coffee maker and your Specialty coffee both lie on the floor of the kitchen, and there is a horrible smell coming from the fridge. Aidan hasn't been gone long enough for things to rot to that extent, especially because every appliance is plugged in.

You don't want to look at the rest of the house, or your belongings. All you do is lean down to pick up your Moka pot, and make time to think, but you're unable to stand straight again. It's like the pain is pulling you down. How did your life become this?

A ruined apartment, a rejected engagement and a backstabbing best friend are things that happen in the movies. You would know. This wasn't supposed to happen to you.

Crying in that ruined kitchen, holding a Moka pot like it's your greatest treasure and not some piece of trash that you will never be able to use anymore, you get angry, furious. Because this is not your life and it was never supposed to be. And it's about time you start doing something about it.

You are sick of running. Of having people question you for not 'defending' yourself when you have no reason to be attacked in the first place. Relationships die, and yours had been past its time to be buried. Saying no is not a crime. And it never will be.

Victoria had burned her own thread with you in the worst way possible because you didn't make her the only person in your life. And you had overlooked every time you felt used by her, unloved, and tossed aside. Friends can break your heart too, and Victoria had ripped yours out of your chest.

Nobody has to tell you who you are, because you know. And you are nothing of what you've let tabloids, netizens and reporters say. You cannot keep running and you cannot keep hiding, and though you wish you had understood that earlier. It's never too late to pick yourself up.

Mildred and Walter are going to be pissed, but their advice was that you remained lowkey for however long it took Hollywood to get their next big scandal. Weeks, months, years.

And you're not about to scurry away into darkness like a rat.

FROM “JUST WATCH THIS” POSTED IN Y/N Y/LN'S YOUTUBE CHANNEL POSTED JUNE 12TH

[y/n,minute 01:30]: ❝...So I've finally decided to come here and tell you everything that has been happening for the past months. It's the truth, but whether you believe it is a personal choice.❞

[y/n,minute 05:56]: ❝It was a three-year dead-end relationship. You cannot, and should not, have a future with someone who laughs at your dreams, and tells you how you should behave and how to look to exalt him.❞

[y/n, minute 07:15]: ❝I said no. And I have not regret it for one second. I didn't tell anyone because I respect Aidan, although I don't think that is reciprocal by now.❞

[y/n, minute 10:01]: ❝I never cheated on him, and I know the source of those rumors. It breaks my heart to know that someone I trusted made up stuff about myself, and a part of my life that was so important to me. I am not telling you who it was, however, I will take legal action against them if the defamation continues.❞

[y/n, minute 14:54]: ❝Aidan decided to tell this person about our failed engagement, and I do not know if his intention was that this all became public. But I wish he'd been mature enough to handle it privately, like the adults we both are.❞

[y/n, minute 16:59]: ❝I started attending Formula 1 races because of an Ambassador contract I held with Elix until three days ago, when they decided to rescind it.❞

[y/n, minute 18:07]: ❝That's where I met both Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz, back in April. Since they are the drivers for Ferrari, we spent a lot of time in the same place, which led to us becoming friends.❞

[y/n, minute 19:04]: ❝Charles Leclerc is my friend and we are not romantically involved, I urge you to stop making stuff up about him too. He never messed with my past relationship, we did not know each other.❞

[y/n, minute 21:55]: ❝When all of this started, I believed—naively— that it could just die down on its own. I am an actress. I was not only 'Aidan Kim's girlfiend' and I am not only his ex-girlfriend now. I am y/n y/ln.❞

[y/n, minute 23:31]: ❝I should have spoken sooner. I should have shut everything down the moment I started feel miserable and out of control. But I also know, I was being crucified so badly because I am a woman.❞

[y/n, minute 26:00]: ❝You have made me feel miserable and anxious, I have suffered from panic attacks and sleepless nights. And I'm not saying this to make you all feel bad and regretful, because the one thing you lack the most is empathy.❞

[y/n, minute 28:45]: ❝But I want you all to think that, if it had been the other way around and Aidan hadn't wanted to marry me, you would have said 'he wasn't ready' and you would have let him move on and find "The One" in peace.❞

[y/n, minute 31:35]: ❝If it was Timothee Chalamet—whom I also have a deep appreciation for—doing RomComs and nothing more, you would call it 'his specialty' and never question his talent.❞

[y/n, minute 33:17]: ❝If I was a man, this wouldn't have killed my reputation.❞

[y/n, minute 36:21]: ❝I will not remain quiet anymore while you step on me and diminish my work. I do not owe anything to Aidan Kim except for the drama the past months have brought me.❞

[y/n, minute 38:11]: ❝I'm going to focus on the future. And I am well aware this will be continue to be a topic of conversation, but I am not scared anymore. Because I know who I am and who I can count on.❞

[y/n, minute 40:12]: ❝If it weren't for my fans, who have been fighting my battles so hard, I wouldn't be here either. They're here for me, and I can never repay such pure love.❞

[y/n, minute 42:22]: ❝If you watched up to here, I'm sure you're wondering whether you should believe all of this, and like I said, it's all up to you❞

[y/n, minute 44:50]: ❝I will not be speaking about Aidan Kim again, so I ask you to refrain from asking about him. It's all been said and done, and I'm eager to move on.❞

[END]

You are looking at the all the comments.

aidanbabes WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BITCH EVEN ON

flowerbedkim Oh so now Aidan forced her to be with him? Bullshit. You are never saving your lying ass y/n, fuck you!!!!!

thatbitch123 You are absolutely right y/n if you were a man this wouldn’t have happened it's so sad

ynbabes2 my queen i waited for you to speak for so long!!! WE HAVE TO MOVE ON FROM THIS

leclercstar you all have made this girl's life absolute hell, i hope you never find peace!! I'm glad she's friends with Charles and Carlos.

presleyvibes wait and you thank people but not Vic who let you stay at her house? you're an ungrateful bitch

albstappen I saw her pic with Lily Muni and I just knew she was one of the good ones

ynmybeloved EVERY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST YN SHALL FALL

kim41d4an IT'S YOUR WORD AGAINST AIDAN'S YOU CHEATING WHORE

June 12th, SoHo, New York.

You are trying to clean the mess around you as best you can. And although you could call someone to help you, sweeping and scrubbing keeps you busy and distracted. The first message you received after posting the video was from Mati a 'proud of you xx, tell me all about it later please!' text that made you take your first deep breath of the afternoon. You made an appointment with a doctor first thing in the morning, you want the panic to go away, you need it to.

Thoughts of how they're destroying you again, calling you a liar and a whore, swarm your brain and you try to toss them in the trash along with your ruined Dolce & Gabbana coat, mysteriously cut up with scissors. You told the truth, and not even the whole of it.

The video is being shown everywhere, you're sure you'll see it tomorrow in Good Morning America where they'll dissect every single move you make and every word that comes out of your mouth.

It's almost 9 pm when you finally stop wiping the apartment down, trying to get rid of every sign that Aidan Kim was ever inside it. It's not true that he paid for the apartment, you picked it yourself and made it a home and then he chose to come and live here, paying the rent once every three to five months. This is your home and you are reclaiming it.

Your phone rings and you take another deep breath before picking it up. Mildred and Walter have resorted to communicate with you through email, so you wonder who it is. Victoria called a few times during the weekend, left voicemails and text messages until you blocked her. Each of them with a new excuse and a more creative way to pin all of what she had done, on you.

It's a FaceTime call from Charles.

"Charlie!" you greet with a smile, before the image of him loads completely. "It's 3 am in Monaco, what the hell are you doing awake?"

Charles shrugs and you notice his bare shoulders, he's shirtless. You're suddenly self-conscious about the way you look. With your hair sticking up from the sweat, your greasy face and ragged shirt. It's a silly worry.

"I wanted to talk to you," he says, and you know he's tired. "I saw your video earlier, but I was doing something else."

"Oh, you saw that."

"I'm proud of you y/n, you are brave for speaking your mind like that. I know it must have taken some effort." Charles moves again and you see his chest, he's already in bed.

"Charles, go to sleep, we can talk about this later," you chuckle, heat is rising to your face.

"I wanted to see you y/n, it doesn't matter what time it is. And I really wanted to tell you I'm glad you posted that video."

"Thank you, Charlie. I should have done it sooner."

"The only one who knows what timing is right for you, is yourself."

"Yeah, I guess so." you sigh, you're exhausted too and you blame it more on the rollercoaster of emotions you've been through than deep cleaning your apartment.

"Are you tired?" he asks, suppressing a yawn.

"No more than you," you retort, but can't help yawning as well. It's a scientific fact that yawns are contagious. "Go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow."

You talked yesterday too, and the day before, and you cried so much on the phone again you thought he would eventually hang up until you calmed down. But Charles soothed you through the phone at 1 am Monaco time and told you to let it all out, and listened without interrupting you once how you called Aidan and Victoria every name in the book.

"Fine," Charles says, rubbing his left eye carelessly. "Will you give me a tour of your apartment tomorrow, then?"

"Yes! I finished cleaning it today!"

Charles laughs softly at your excitement. “We’ll talk tomorrow then, just because you need to sleep.”

“Sure I am the sleepy one,” you roll your eyes and Charles smiles, both dimples showing. “Goodnight Charlie, sweet dreams.” The last part you say it in a slightly mocking tone but Charles doesn’t take it as such, smile widening.

“Goodnight soleil,” he says and waits a few seconds for you to react to your newly given nickname before hanging up, anxious but satisfied.

─── team principal radio: ❝thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and are liking the story so far. We're slowly getting to the y/n redemption. Once again, i really appreciate all of your interactions they mean the world to me. Also check out the series playlist if you haven't♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @sassyheroneckgiant @flowerchild-96 @fangirlika @shegotboreddsoo @roseamongthorns13 @cissyp @chimchimjiminie16 @saturnsrinqs @roni-midnights @gayyvodka6 @studioreader @its-ash-not-grey @lu-morningstar @ferraribabe @reidsworld @feelslikestrawberries @celestialams @kosmosgalore @heeseung-baby @missenclod @buendiabebeta @mycenterfold @aces-tattooartist @burningrred @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @rainybabe25 @ru-kru @lazybot @teenagedreams-cl @cool-ultra-nerd @kuskumu @formulakay3 @bisexual-desi @somanyfandomsbruh @icarus-nex @haziefairy @xjval @xoxoloverb @sainzleclercs @headinthecloudssblog @incoherenciass @bookophiliac @torrie421 @nooshytushie @azxulaa @steephanie07 @anonymous8462 @tbisloneely @pukklv @bn7921 @be-your-coffee-pot @fdl305 @lovely-blackinnon @landonorizzz @ruleroftheuniverse @ivegotparticulartaste

want to join the paddock club? click here!

if you are not tagged please check your blog settings because tumblr isn't letting me tag you

2K notes · View notes

kiwriteswords · 15 days ago

Text

The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you

Part IV in the Wicked Game Universe (Can be read on its own, though!)

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: Here is another part of the Flirty!Female reader storyline I shared last week. This story can be read solo or as a companion piece in this universe! I am beginning to plan future installments of this story and some possible 'flashback' one-shots--all of which could be read individually.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 10.8k

Tags/Warnings: mention of past abusive relationship, fear of commitment, unresolved trauma, mention of SA, angst, romantic tension, mild violence, emotional vulnerability, workplace relationships, slight language, hurt/comfort, power dynamics, manipulation by an ex, sexual tension, sexual themes. Part of a series but can be read as a standalone.

Sypnosis: After years away from the BAU, you’ve returned, leaving behind a prestigious career as a professor and best-selling author. Once part of the original team, your reunion with Hotch has reignited long-simmering tension. Now, as your relationship begins to unfold, you’re not only confronting your fear of commitment but also the unresolved troubles from your past—including a case tied to your former life as a professor. With emotions and past wounds resurfacing, you’ll have to navigate the dangers of the job and the vulnerability of opening yourself up to Hotch without letting it all unravel.

Aaron Hotchner stood in front of his closet, pulling on a casual jacket, readying himself to head out and pick Jack up from his Aunt Jess’s house. It was a quiet Sunday evening, and the dim light in his apartment cast a warm, relaxed glow. You sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the fabric of your shirt, your mind wandering as you watched him quietly.

“You’re welcome to come with me,” Hotch said, his tone calm but warm, as he looked over at you. “Or you can hang back if you’d rather stay here.”

You forced a small smile, trying to play it cool, but your mind was racing. "Oh, I think I’ll just head home,” you replied, a touch too quickly. “You know… laundry."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. He turned toward you fully, his steady gaze softening as he studied your face. “Laundry?” he asked, the slightest hint of amusement in his tone. “On a Sunday night?”

You let out a nervous laugh, shifting on the bed as you felt the tension between the two of you grow. He could read you like a book—he always could. You’d gotten to know Jack a few times, and honestly, you cared about the kid. He was sweet, and you loved seeing how much Hotch lit up when he talked about him. But now that you and Hotch were officially dating, the reality of being a part of his life—not just Hotch’s, but Jack’s, too—was starting to feel a little overwhelming.

“I just... I don’t want to intrude or anything. It’s your time with Jack, and I don’t want to, you know, mess up the dad-son thing,” you said, waving your hand dismissively, trying to deflect the weight of your own words.

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could tell he wasn’t going to let this slide. “Y/N, you’ve spent time with Jack before. You know you’re not intruding,” he said, his voice gentle but probing. “And Jack’s shared with me that he likes you there,” He stepped closer, leaning against the dresser, his arms folding across his chest. “What’s really going on?”

Your heart rate picked up, and you could feel your defenses rising. You hated how well he could see through you.

“Nothing’s going on,” you lied, forcing a smirk onto your face. “I just don’t want Jack to think I’m moving in or anything. Who knows, maybe he doesn’t want to share his dad’s time with someone who’s, you know, kind of irresistible.”

You tossed the joke out there, hoping the humor would deflect the conversation away from the nagging feeling in your chest. But Hotch didn’t laugh. Instead, his gaze remained steady on you, seeing past the joke, past the deflection. He could always see right through the armor you put up, and it unnerved you.

He didn’t speak for a long moment, just watching you, letting the silence hang between you two. Finally, his voice broke through the tension, low and measured.

“Y/N... do you have issues with commitment?”

The question landed like a punch to the gut, though his tone was gentle, almost too gentle. You blinked, your breath catching slightly as you stared at him, trying to figure out what to say. Your instinct was to deny it, to brush it off like you always did.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head a little too eagerly. “I’m fully committed to you, Aaron. I mean... I just... I don’t have commitment issues. It’s just that... I have to go...you know…”

You trailed off, the lame excuse you were trying to come up with faltering in your mind. You couldn’t think of a single thing that didn’t sound ridiculous. You were backing yourself into a corner, and you both knew it.

Hotch’s expression softened even more, his eyes searching yours as he stepped closer. He didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from you. He never would. But the way he looked at you—the way he could see your fear even when you tried to hide it—made it impossible to lie to him.

“You don’t have to make excuses,” he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not pushing Jack or any of the family stuff onto you. I want you to be comfortable, and I’ll never force you into anything you’re not ready for. But... I need to know what you’re feeling. If there’s something you’re scared of, you can tell me.”

Your throat tightened as his words hit home. The truth was, you were terrified. You were beginning to love him, and the idea of being part of his life—really part of it, including Jack—was more serious than you ever allowed yourself to get before. But you couldn’t admit that to him. You couldn’t admit how scared you were of the possibility of getting hurt. So instead, you plastered on another forced smile, trying to hide the vulnerability bubbling up inside you.

“I’m not scared, Aaron,” you lied again, your voice betraying the uncertainty you were trying so hard to cover. “I’m fine. Really.”

But even as you said it, you knew he didn’t believe you.

Hotch stood quietly in the doorway, watching as you slipped on your coat, preparing to leave his apartment. He could tell by the way you moved—hurried, slightly fidgety—that something was bothering you. He knew you weren’t being entirely honest with him, but he didn’t press further. Not yet, anyway.

As you reached for the door, you glanced back at him with a tight smile, your voice softer now. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

Hotch nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. “Okay,” he said simply, though his mind was far from settled. “Drive safe.”

You gave him a quick wave and hurried out the door, closing it behind you with a soft click. Hotch remained standing in the same spot, staring at the door long after you were gone, the familiar quiet of his apartment settling back around him. His mind, however, was far from quiet.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the wall, his thoughts churning. He and you had agreed long ago not to profile each other, a mutual understanding that was meant to keep things simple. But right now, he couldn’t help himself. The profiler in him was already working, analyzing every piece of the puzzle that you had left behind.

He knew you cared about him. He also knew you were great with Jack—there was no denying the way Jack’s eyes lit up when you were around. You were patient with him, playful, and you always found a way to make him laugh even after a tough day. Hotch wouldn’t be with someone if Jack didn’t like them, and he definitely wouldn’t have let you into his life if he didn’t think you were good for both of them.

So why were you pulling away now? What was it about commitment that made you so uncomfortable?

Hotch crossed the room slowly, his footsteps soft against the floor as his mind pieced together the details. It wasn’t just about Jack—he could see that much. This was about more than his son. The way you deflected, the way you tried to cover your unease with humor... it wasn’t about being around Jack. No, this was deeper than that.

He thought back to the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes when you told him you were fine, the way your laughter was a little too quick, too forced. You were scared, that much was clear, but scared of what? Being in a relationship with him? Or was it the idea of permanence—of letting someone in?

Hotch pressed his lips together, considering. He wasn’t blind to your past. You’d mentioned bits and pieces before, always in passing, never lingering too long on the details. He hadn’t pushed you for more, respecting your boundaries, but now... now he couldn’t help but wonder if those past experiences were what was making you retreat.

Commitment. The word echoed in his mind. It wasn’t just a fear of being with him—it was a fear of what being with him meant. A future. A life. A family.

Hotch’s gaze drifted to the jacket you had left slung over the back of the chair, a small reminder that you weren’t really gone, not in the way his mind feared you might be. You were still here, still in his life. But the hesitation you had around the idea of permanence, of family... it worried him. Because for Hotch, being with someone wasn’t just casual. He was past that. And he knew, deep down, he wouldn’t be with you if he didn’t see something lasting.

He let out another slow breath, his mind running through possible explanations for your discomfort. Was it something from your past? A relationship gone wrong? A family situation that left scars you didn’t want to reopen? He had seen enough in his career to know that fear of commitment usually had roots in something much deeper, something more personal.

And as much as he wanted to respect your boundaries, Hotch knew that if this relationship was going to last, you couldn’t keep running. He wouldn’t push you—not now—but he also couldn’t let this go unresolved.

He made his way to the couch, sitting down and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. He wasn’t the type to force things. He’d always been patient, methodical, both in his work and in his personal life. But with you... he felt that familiar pull. He couldn’t help but want to protect you, even from yourself. He wanted to know what you were afraid of, and more than that, he wanted to help you face it.

Because the truth was, Hotch wasn’t afraid of commitment. Not with you. He wouldn’t have let you into his life—or Jack’s—if he wasn’t serious about the future. And he needed to know if you were ready to face that with him or if you were going to keep running.

Hotch’s eyes flicked back to the door, his mind still working, still piecing together the small details you had left behind. He could wait. He could give you time. But he also knew that at some point, the truth would have to come out.

He wasn’t going to let you slip away that easily.

The next few days passed like any other—business as usual at the BAU. Cases came and went, paperwork piled up, and the team fell into their familiar rhythm. But you? You were doing your best to stay out of Hotch’s orbit. It wasn’t overt—just little things. Sitting a little further away during briefings, excusing yourself before the team headed to lunch together, or leaving the bullpen just a moment earlier than usual to avoid being caught in conversation.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to see him. You did. But that was the problem.

Every time you thought about him—about Hotch, and about Jack—your chest tightened with a mixture of affection and dread. The feelings were overwhelming, and you couldn’t shake the gnawing fear that loving them, both of them, would end in disaster. Because that’s how it always happened, didn’t it? The moment you admitted to yourself that you loved someone, it all fell apart.

You weren’t blind to your own patterns. You’d seen it happen over and over again—every time you let someone in, every time you allowed yourself to love, something went wrong. Past relationships had crumbled the moment you showed vulnerability, the moment you trusted someone enough to share your insecurities. It was as if, once they saw the cracks, they lost interest. They grew tired of you, sick of the very parts of you that you couldn’t hide forever.

And Hotch? He was different. He felt different. You’d built walls for so long, kept people at arm’s length for years because it was easier to be alone than to deal with the heartache of being left behind. But now, with Hotch, the stakes were so much higher. This wasn’t just some casual fling. He had Jack, too, and you’d started to care about him—really care about him. Losing them both would be unbearable.

What if Hotch got sick of you? What if the moment you opened up, told him about the fears that kept you up at night, he realized you weren’t what he wanted? What if he saw all the things that made you unlovable? That thought was like a knife to your chest, and every time it crossed your mind, you could feel yourself retreating, brick by brick, back behind the walls you’d spent so long building.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Hotch. You did, more than anyone. But that didn’t erase the fear—the fear that, if you gave him the chance, he might use your insecurities against you one day. You’d seen it before, how the people closest to you could turn your vulnerabilities into weapons when things got tough. Past lovers, boyfriends... even family had done it. Once they knew where your weak spots were, they treated you differently, and eventually, they all left.

You couldn’t afford to let that happen with Hotch. Losing him... losing Jack? It would break you.

So, you avoided him. Not in any dramatic way, but enough to keep yourself at a distance. Enough to protect yourself. You told yourself it was just temporary, that you needed space to figure things out. But the truth was, you were terrified—terrified of what would happen if you admitted to yourself that you loved him. Because you did. You could feel it, and that terrified you more than anything.

Because loneliness? Loneliness was something you knew how to handle. It was easier to bear than heartache.

You stood in the copy room, staring at the machine as it hummed softly. The bright fluorescent lights overhead felt harsh, too revealing, but you needed the escape. You’d volunteered to make copies—something you never did. It was usually Penelope or JJ’s domain, not yours, but anything was better than sitting at your desk, where you might have to face Hotch.

The door creaked open, and you jumped, nearly knocking over the stack of papers in your hands. You turned around quickly, and there he was—Hotch, leaning in the doorway, his eyes fixed on you with that familiar, steady gaze.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “you’ve been avoiding me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a second, you were sure he could hear it. You scrambled to regain your composure, putting on your usual front as quickly as you could. “Avoiding you?” you echoed, forcing a smile. “No way. I’ve just been... really busy. You know, super swamped with all this copying.”

You gestured awkwardly to the copy machine, as if that would somehow make your excuse more believable. You immediately regretted it. Hotch’s expression didn’t change, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that told you he wasn’t buying a word of it.

He stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. “You don’t make copies,” he said simply, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt the walls closing in, but instead of admitting anything, you did what you always did when things got too uncomfortable—you deflected. “Well, you know me,” you said, tilting your head with a smirk, “I like to shake things up. Keep things... interesting.”

You punctuated the sentence with a playful wink, hoping the flirtation would steer the conversation away from the real issue. But this time, Hotch wasn’t having it. His eyes narrowed slightly, and though you could see the faintest trace of amusement in his gaze, it wasn’t enough to let you off the hook.

He took another step closer, his voice lowering just a touch. “You’re deflecting,” he said softly, his tone a mix of concern and patience. “I’m not going to let you avoid this, Y/N. Not this time.”

Your heart raced as you realized there was no escaping the conversation. You could feel the tension between the two of you, but it wasn’t the usual kind—the playful, teasing tension that you thrived on. This was heavier, more serious. And the way he looked at you, so intent, so knowing, made it impossible to keep pretending.

“I’m not... avoiding anything,” you lied again, though the words felt hollow even as you said them. “I’ve just been busy, that’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

But Hotch didn’t budge. His eyes were locked on yours, and you could tell he was waiting—waiting for you to drop the act. He had always been patient with you, always let you use humor and flirtation to dodge the hard conversations, but this time... this time he wasn’t going to let you.

He stepped even closer, his presence grounding you in the small room, and his voice softened in a way that made your defenses start to crumble. “Y/N,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to hide from me. Whatever it is... you can talk to me.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. You felt the weight of his words settling in the pit of your stomach, the tenderness in his voice catching you off guard. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t pushing. He was just... asking you to let him in.

But letting him in meant tearing down the walls you had built for years. It meant showing him the parts of yourself that you had spent so long hiding—the parts that had driven other people away. And that scared you more than anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Hotch just watched you, quiet and unflinching. He wasn’t going to let you use your usual tactics this time. You could see it in the way he looked at you, in the way his jaw tightened slightly as if he were holding back his own frustration. He wasn’t asking you to be perfect. He wasn’t asking you to have all the answers. He was just asking you to be real with him.

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, and for a moment, all you could hear was the soft hum of the copy machine in the background. You felt your resolve weakening, the familiar comfort of your usual bravado slipping away as you stood there, face to face with him.

“Why are you really avoiding me?” Hotch asked again, his voice so soft now that it felt like a whisper. “What are you afraid of?”

Your throat tightened, and for a moment, you thought about lying again. But the way he looked at you—the way he had always seen through you—made it impossible.

You swallowed hard, your gaze falling to the floor as you tried to find the words. “I’m not afraid,” you started, though the words felt fragile. “It’s just... I’m not... good at this. I don’t know how to be...” You trailed off, your mind racing, trying to figure out how to say the things that had been gnawing at you for days.

“I’m not... good at relationships, okay?” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Every time I’ve let someone in, it’s... it’s backfired. I’m scared that if I show you who I really am, you’ll... you’ll get tired of me. Or worse, you’ll see all the things that make me unlovable and... leave.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and as soon as they did, you felt exposed, raw. Vulnerable in a way that you hadn’t allowed yourself to be in years.

Hotch’s expression softened even more, his gaze filled with understanding rather than judgment. He stepped closer, his voice steady and reassuring. “Y/N, that’s not going to happen,” he said gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Before Hotch could say anything more, the door to the copy room swung open, and JJ appeared, her expression urgent but apologetic.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” JJ began, glancing between the two of you, clearly sensing the tension. “But we’ve got an urgent case. We need to head to the briefing room now.”

Hotch straightened up immediately, the shift in his demeanor instant. He was back in work mode, but before he turned to leave, he glanced at you, his eyes softening for just a moment. “We’ll finish this conversation later,” he said, his voice low but firm, leaving no room for argument.

You, of course, couldn’t help yourself. You leaned back against the copy machine, crossing your arms with a defiant smirk. “I don’t know, Hotchner. I might be busy making copies.”

The corner of his mouth twitched as he fought back a smile, his gaze flicking back to you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Knock it off,” he said lightly, his tone still professional but with that familiar warmth. “Don’t be a brat.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk widening just a little. “No promises.”

Hotch shook his head, clearly not fazed by your antics, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he turned to follow JJ, already shifting back into his role as Unit Chief. You followed behind, the moment lingering in the back of your mind, knowing that this conversation was far from over.

The air in the briefing room felt thicker as the case unfolded. JJ was going through the details, but your mind was already reeling from what you saw. The university. The professor. The past you thought you’d left behind.

The team listened intently, no one yet aware of just how personal this case was about to become for you. You had worked with these people before, years ago, when you were part of the original team with Rossi, Gideon, and Hotch. They knew your reputation—how you’d left the BAU to teach at an Ivy League university, write books, and shape future generations of agents. But they didn’t know the deeper connections, the ones that were resurfacing now.

JJ clicked to the next slide, and that was when you felt the pit in your stomach form. The suspect’s possible protector: a law professor who had once been the person you thought you’d build a life with. The one you left behind when your priorities shifted.

As the details about the professor emerged, Morgan looked over at you, furrowing his brow. “Wait, didn’t you teach at this university for a while?”

You nodded, keeping your voice steady, though your pulse was anything but. “Yeah. I taught there for a few years.”

Prentiss leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued. “And this professor... you know him?”

You hesitated for just a moment, the weight of your words settling in your throat. You hadn’t expected to be forced into revealing this now, in front of the entire team, but there was no avoiding it. You glanced at Hotch, and for a brief second, you saw the flicker of concern in his eyes. But it was Rossi’s calm presence that grounded you, reminding you why you had come back to the BAU in the first place. Because he had called you. Because he had known you belonged here.

With a small sigh, you gave a tight nod. “He’s my ex. I was with him for a while when I was teaching there. We broke up years ago.”

The room went quiet for a beat, the team exchanging glances as they processed the information. Nobody had known. You had always kept that part of your life separate from your professional world, but now it was colliding head-on.

“I’m not surprised he’s involved in this,” you continued, keeping your tone as even as possible. “He’s always been good at covering things up, especially when it comes to protecting his students. I’m guessing he’s helping the suspect in more ways than we realize.”

Hotch’s gaze didn’t leave you. While the rest of the team focused on the new revelation, he was watching your demeanor, analyzing the subtle shifts in your expression. He could see you trying to keep it together, but he knew you too well. He knew there was more to this than you were letting on.

The timing of it all couldn’t have been worse. Just when he had been starting to understand why you’d been so distant, now this—an ex, the kind of connection that could explain more than just your avoidance in recent days. Hotch’s mind was already working through the implications, but now wasn’t the time to push. Not yet.

“We’ll split into teams,” Hotch said, taking control of the situation and pulling the focus back to the case. “Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, and I will meet with campus security. JJ, Reid, and Y/N—you’ll talk to the students and see if anyone’s noticed anything suspicious about the professor or the suspect.”

You nodded, trying to push down the anxiety creeping up inside you. You could feel Hotch’s eyes on you, still watching, still waiting for the conversation you both knew was inevitable. But for now, you needed to focus on the case. You couldn’t afford to let your past get in the way of the job.

But you knew, deep down, this wasn’t over.

The steady hum of the jet’s engines filled the cabin as you sat in your usual seat, staring out the window at the clouds passing by below. The rest of the team was engaged in quiet conversation or reviewing the case files, but you had remained silent, your mind elsewhere. Too calm. Too collected. You knew it. But this was the only way you could handle the situation—by shutting it all down, pushing it far enough away that it didn’t touch you.

Hotch sat across from you, his eyes flicking between his file and you. He was subtle about it, but you could feel his gaze. After everything that had come out in the briefing room, you knew he’d want to check in, and you’d been dreading it.

He cleared his throat softly, leaning forward just enough to speak quietly, so the others wouldn’t hear. “How are you holding up?”

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. “I’m fine,” you said, your voice steady and flat. Too steady. “This is just another case.”

Hotch didn’t miss a beat. “You seem... detached.”

You felt your jaw tighten as you flipped through the file in your lap, though you weren’t actually reading it. “I’m not detached,” you replied, too cold. “I’m focused.”

He was silent for a moment, then tried a different approach. “This professor—your ex—was there anything about him that we should know? Anything that could help us?”

You froze for just a moment before you snapped the file shut and finally looked at him, your eyes hard and unyielding.

“He was an asshole, Aaron. That’s all you need to know.” The words came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t stop there. “He was manipulative, controlling, and he didn’t care about anyone but himself. And I was an idiot for staying with him as long as I did.”

Hotch blinked, clearly taken aback, but not by your anger—by the venom in your voice, the way you talked about yourself. He didn’t respond right away, his mind already processing how someone like that could have hurt you. Why you would have tolerated it for so long. But before he could say anything more, you turned away, ending the conversation with a wall of silence.

The rest of the flight passed in a blur of silence and tense focus. Hotch didn’t push further, but you could feel the weight of his thoughts as he processed what you’d said.

When the jet finally landed, and the team moved into action, there was little time for personal conversations. The team split up into teams, like Hotch requested, but there was little to no developments. You spent the day…tense--radiating off of you.

It was Morgan who broke the tension once things had settled into the routine.

“Hey,” he said with a grin, sidling up next to you as you tossed through the files. “I’m surprised you haven’t given Hotch much hell today. Must be hitting close to home, huh?”

You let out a humorless laugh, nodding slightly. “Yeah. Too close.”

Morgan’s grin faded, and he gave you a knowing look. “You okay?”

You shrugged, shaking your head a little. “Honestly? I don’t know how to express that to him—how to say anything to him.”

Morgan leaned back, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Hotch? The cold drill sergeant?” He raised his eyebrows. “Come on. You’re his one exception. To most things, actually.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” Morgan said, his tone more genuine now. “Look, we trust each other with our lives every day in the field. You’ve got to start trusting him with more than just that. The guy trusts you. I mean, really trusts you—his life, his messy past, all of it. Maybe you should think about trusting him with yours.”

You bit your lip, considering his words, knowing there was more truth in them than you wanted to admit. You hadn’t let Hotch in—really let him in—but not because you didn’t want to. You just didn’t know how. And Morgan was right, it could not be easy for Hotch to let someone in after Haley. Bringing you around Jack, into his life that he once lived with someone who he thought would be there forever? Could not be something easy, yet he was allowing you in anyways.

Before you could respond, Hotch’s voice broke through the moment. “We’ve got a lead on the professor,” he said, his tone all business as he approached. “I want you to stay back.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but quickly stopped yourself. Instead, you quipped, “Come on, Hotch. Don’t tell me you don’t want me to have all the fun.”

Morgan chuckled and shook his head, walking off with a muttered, “Good luck, man.”

But Hotch didn’t laugh. His eyes narrowed slightly, not unkindly, but with that familiar look that told you he wasn’t buying your deflection.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he said quietly. “When we get him into custody, I want you to talk to him. You know him, and that personal connection might be an advantage we can use.”

You hesitated for just a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

Hotch didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on you, his voice lowering just enough so that only you could hear him. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? If you’re not comfortable—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted softly, the seriousness of your voice surprising even yourself. “None of this is comfortable, Hotch. But I’m learning. Learning how to... express that. Trying. And hoping I can share more. Soon.”

Hotch studied your face for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but there was something softer in his eyes. Something that told you he wasn’t just your boss right now—he was someone who cared about you. Someone who wanted you to be okay.

“Okay,” he said, his voice just as soft. “But if you need to step back at any point, I need you to tell me.”

You gave him a small, almost sad smile. “I will.”

He nodded once, his professional mask slipping back into place as he turned to the rest of the team. But you knew this conversation wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

The interrogation room was colder than you remembered, the sterile fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow over the table. You stood by the one-way mirror for a moment, watching as your ex—the professor—sat with his hands clasped in front of him, his expression unreadable. It had been years since you’d seen him, and though you had prepared yourself for this moment, it still felt like a punch to the gut.

Hotch stood beside you, silent but present, his gaze fixed on the man in the room. His anger was palpable—another body had been found on campus, escalating the urgency of the case. You could feel his tension in the air, but as always, he kept it under control. For now.

“You don’t have to do this,” Hotch said quietly, his voice low but steady. “If you’re not ready—”

You cut him off, straightening your shoulders and pulling your gaze away from the glass. “I’ve got this,” you said firmly, though your heart raced in your chest. “I need to do this.”

Hotch’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. He gave a small nod, but before you walked through the door, he spoke again, his voice softer. “If he crosses a line, I’ll be right there.”

You met his gaze, grateful for his support, but you forced a confident smile onto your face. “Don’t worry, I can handle him.”

With that, you stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind you. The professor looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and you could see the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, casually, like he wasn’t sitting in an interrogation room, suspected of covering up for a student who had committed unspeakable crimes.

The interrogation room felt suffocating, the air thick with tension. He sat casually in his chair as if this were a simple chat. His smug demeanor, the arrogance in his eyes—it all brought back memories you’d tried to bury. But you weren’t the same person who had tolerated him back then. You had changed.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice oozing with that familiar arrogance. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

You remained standing, refusing to sit across from him. “I wasn’t expecting to be here either,” you said coldly, your voice sharp. “But here we are.”

He leaned back in his chair, arrogance radiating from him as he crossed his arms. “You always had a way of getting yourself involved in things that didn’t concern you,” he sneered.

You didn’t flinch. “This concerns me,” you said sharply. “You’re covering up for a student who’s responsible for these crimes. Just like you’ve done before.”

He chuckled, low and condescending. “You’re still so self-righteous. Always thinking you could save everyone. But we both know how that turned out, don’t we?”

Your jaw clenched, but you refused to let him get to you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned back again, his smirk returning as his eyes swept over you. “You were always so eager to please. You put up with so much... for so long. I was surprised, actually. Surprised you stayed with me as long as you did. Guess you just couldn’t help yourself.”

Your jaw tightened, the memories of the past pushing forward, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You weren’t going to let him get to you, not this time. “I stayed with you because I didn’t know any better,” you said, your voice low and sharp. “But I see you now. You covered up a sexual assault on campus. A student you treated like one of your ‘bros.’”

For the first time, his expression flickered. You pressed on, your voice cutting through the tension. “I’m not surprised you’re involved in this. You always looked out for the worst kinds of people, because you’re just like them. Terrible. You might not have laid a hand on anyone, but you enabled them. And I’m done letting you hide behind that smug façade.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, the cocky façade slipped. He straightened up, his expression hardening. “I protected my students, just like I always did. If one of them did something stupid, that’s on them.”

“Another body was found,” you snapped, your voice suddenly sharper. “So forgive me if I don’t buy that you’re just an innocent bystander in all this.”

The professor leaned back in his chair, a smug grin curling across his face as he sized you up. His eyes darkened, his tone dripping with disdain. “You know, for someone who spent so much time pretending to be better than everyone else, you weren’t exactly a prize yourself. You were so desperate for approval. Clinging to me, hoping to be part of something important, but you were nothing more than a scared little girl. Pathetic, really.”

Your stomach twisted, his words slicing through the air like a knife. The familiar manipulation was back, but this time it was uglier, more personal, and aimed right at your insecurities. For a moment, you felt that old sense of dread creeping in, but you quickly shoved it down, refusing to let him see how much he affected you.

Before you could respond, the door swung open with a loud bang, and Hotch stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury.

“Enough,” Hotch growled, his voice seething with anger. His usual calm, collected demeanor was gone, replaced by a fury you had rarely seen. He wasn’t just angry—he was livid. His eyes blazed with barely contained rage as he glared at the professor, his fists clenched at his sides.

The professor opened his mouth to say something, but Hotch cut him off, his voice rising. “We just found another body on campus,” he snapped, his tone almost a yell. “So unless you want to be charged as an accessory to murder, you’ll stop playing games and start talking.”

The professor paled, his smug attitude faltering for the first time since you’d entered the room. He glanced between you and Hotch, clearly rattled by the sudden shift in the room’s energy.

“I... I’ll tell you what I know,” he muttered, his bravado slipping.

Hotch didn’t move, his dark gaze fixed on the professor. “If you lie, you’ll regret it,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous, “You have no idea what I’m willing to do to make sure you answer for this.”

The professor nodded quickly, his confidence crumbling under the weight of Hotch’s fury.

Without taking his eyes off the professor, Hotch finally spoke to you, his tone much softer. “You’re done here.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You turned on your heel and left the room, your pulse racing from both the confrontation and the way Hotch had stepped in. Once you were outside, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

The door closed behind you, and Hotch appeared at your side, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. But when he looked at you, there was something else in his eyes—something softer, more protective.

“You didn’t have to do that alone,” he said, his voice low.

You met his gaze, feeling the tension between you ease just a little. “I needed to.”

Hotch studied you for a moment, the weight of everything that had been left unsaid hanging in the air. There was something unspoken between you—something that had been building for a while, and you knew this was far from over.

But for now, you were grateful. Grateful that he had been there, that he’d stepped in when you needed him most. And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to realize that you didn’t have to handle everything on your own anymore.

With the information you’d pulled from the professor, the case came together swiftly. The team tracked down the student responsible for the crimes, arresting him without further incident. It was a victory, but there was a lingering bitterness in the air, especially after the confrontation with your ex.

Back at the precinct, as the local PD prepared to release the professor, you kept your distance, standing with the team as they processed the final details. You had just turned away when you heard his voice behind you.

“Y/N,” he called out, loud enough for everyone to hear, his voice dripping with false charm. “You still look as good as ever.”

You froze, your blood boiling as the comment hit you like a slap. The arrogance in his tone made your skin crawl, and the fact that he had the nerve to say it in front of the entire team? It took everything in you not to react, but you clenched your fists at your sides, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Hotch’s eyes snapped toward the professor, his anger flaring again. That comment—so condescending, so disrespectful—cut deeper than he’d expected it would. It wasn’t just the insult itself, it was the way the professor wielded it, trying to assert power over you even now. Hotch could see the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way you were trying to hide your reaction, but he knew that the words hit a nerve.

As much as Hotch kept his emotions in check, this was different. He felt a flash of protective instinct rise within him. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that—no one did. Especially not you, who had held your own in that interrogation, who had stood firm even when the professor had tried to tear you down. But you hadn’t been forthcoming with your emotions, not with him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was why. If your past with the professor—the manipulation, the control—was part of the reason you kept so much of yourself hidden.

Without missing a beat, he turned to the local PD officers. “Get him out of here,” Hotch ordered, his voice low and dangerous. “Now.”

The officers nodded quickly, rushing to escort the professor out, and as they led him away, Hotch stepped closer to you. He didn’t say anything, but his hand brushed against your back, a subtle gesture of reassurance, letting you know he was there.

Inside, his thoughts were racing. He had seen you deflect before, using humor or bravado to keep people at a distance, but now he could see how much it cost you. You were strong, sharp, confident—even when facing your ex—but there was something deeper beneath that exterior. Something you were still guarding, even now. And Hotch, who prided himself on being able to read people, knew there was so much more you weren’t saying.

Rossi, always quick with a comment, muttered under his breath, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The team burst into quiet laughter, the tension in the room easing just a little. You couldn’t help but smile, though the weight of the professor’s words still lingered.

“I thought Hotch was going to kill the guy,” Morgan chimed in, grinning. “Or at least rip his head off.”

You glanced at Hotch, catching his dry expression. “He’s lucky I didn’t,” Hotch replied, his tone deadpan, though you could see the spark of humor in his eyes.

Feeling the tension lift, you couldn’t resist the chance to tease him. You leaned a little closer to Hotch, your voice low but playful. “Careful, Hotch. I’m starting to think you enjoy playing knight in shining armor.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smile. “Only when it’s necessary.”

The team snickered at the exchange, and you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as Prentiss grinned. “Alright, you two,” she teased, “get a room already.”

Morgan laughed, nudging JJ with his elbow. “Yeah, for real. We don’t need to see all that.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a smile tugging at your lips. “Hey, I don’t make the rules. Just trying to keep things... interesting.”

Hotch shot you a look that was equal parts amusement and exasperation, and for a moment, you could see the corners of his mouth lift in a smirk, but he kept his professional mask intact.

“Interesting isn’t the word I’d use,” Hotch couldn’t help but respond with his own dry sense of humor. “All right,” Hotch said, raising his voice just enough to regain control of the room, though the humor in his eyes remained. “Let’s wrap this up.”

The flight back to Quantico was quiet. The case had been solved, the suspect arrested, and the weight of the entire situation seemed to hang over everyone. Hotch had given you space, knowing that you needed time to process everything that had happened. The rest of the team kept things light, but you remained quiet, lost in your thoughts as you stared out the window of the jet.

Once you landed, the usual bureaucratic routine followed. Paperwork. Debriefs. You went through the motions, wrapping up the final details of the case with the rest of the team. Hotch, always efficient, had finished his reports quickly, but he lingered in his office afterward. He knew you weren’t ready to talk—not yet—and he wasn’t going to push. He had learned over the years that you would come to him when you were ready.

Eventually, the bullpen emptied. The rest of the team had said their goodbyes, eager to head home after the long case. Hotch stayed in his office, reviewing a few last-minute reports when he heard a soft knock on the doorframe. He looked up to see you standing there, peeking into his office.

“Hey,” you said quietly, your tone hesitant. “Can I... go home with you?”

Hotch blinked, surprised by the question, but he kept his expression neutral. “Of course,” he said, his voice softening. “I’d love that.”

He quickly collected his things, and the two of you left the BAU together, walking side by side through the empty hallways. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a heaviness to it. Hotch could feel that you had something on your mind, but he didn’t push. He was happy you were with him, and that was enough for now.

It wasn’t until the two of you reached Hotch’s car, standing alone in the quiet of the parking lot, that you finally spoke. The weight of everything you’d been carrying for so long seemed to press down on you, and you knew this was the moment you needed to say what had been on your mind for days—weeks, even.

You took a deep breath, your voice shaking slightly as you began. “Hotch... Aaron, I know how much you’ve been through. I know how hard it is for you to trust someone after everything. But you still trust me. You’ve been there for me this whole time, and I haven’t been able to show you the same.”

Hotch turned to face you, his eyes soft, patient. He didn’t say anything, just waited, letting you speak at your own pace.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice breaking a little as the words tumbled out. “I’m scared of losing you. Of getting close to Jack and then losing him, too, if something goes wrong between us. I’m afraid I’m not good in relationships because I’m so independent—to a fault. I don’t know how to let people in, and I’m scared that I’m overstepping by being in Jack’s life.”

You paused, trying to steady your breath. Hotch remained silent, listening intently, his gaze never leaving yours.

“And I’m terrified,” you continued, “that one day you’ll resent me for it. That I’ll hurt you, or worse... that you’ll see the real me, and you won’t want me anymore. That you’ll find me... unattractive, or ugly, or just... not enough.”

Hotch took a small step closer, his expression softening even more. He could see how hard this was for you—the vulnerability, the fear that had been weighing on you for so long. Slowly, gently, he reached out and placed his hand on your arm, the touch grounding you.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady and sure, “I’ve already seen the real you. And I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You felt your heart tighten, the words hitting you harder than you’d expected. Hotch’s eyes were filled with a tenderness you rarely saw, but it was there—real, honest.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of losing me or Jack,” Hotch continued. “We’re here because we want to be, because we care about you. You’re not overstepping. And as for your fears about relationships... you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”

You swallowed hard, the tears you had been holding back finally starting to well up. But they weren’t tears of sadness—they were tears of relief. For the first time, you felt like you could breathe.

Hotch’s hand slid from your arm to your back, pulling you into a gentle embrace. He didn’t say anything else—he didn’t need to. The quiet comfort of his presence said everything.

You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, and for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

After the emotional exchange outside Hotch’s car, the two of you quietly climbed inside. The drive began in a comfortable silence, but as the minutes passed, Hotch felt compelled to dig a little deeper. He had seen how much your past with the professor had affected you, and though he wasn’t one to push, he also knew that sometimes the right question could help.

He glanced over at you briefly, his voice soft but steady as he broke the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Depends,” you teased, a playful smirk forming on your lips. “If you’re planning to ask about my ex, I’d be careful. If you want to get laid later, you’re walking a pretty thin line right now.”

Hotch’s lips twitched into a subtle smile, surprising you. His wit wasn’t usually at the forefront, but when it was, it always caught you off guard. “Noted,” he replied dryly, his eyes flicking to the road. “But if that’s the line, I guess I’d better make it worth crossing.”

You blinked, surprised by his response, and then burst into laughter. You didn’t expect him to meet you at your level of humor, but there he was, speaking your language, making the tension in your chest loosen just a little more. Somehow, it was easier to talk to him like this—lighthearted, comfortable.

You exhaled, your amusement fading into something more reflective. The joke had disarmed you, and now, the floodgates felt cracked open. You stared out the window for a moment before speaking again, your voice quieter now, more vulnerable.

“I almost let him ruin everything,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “After we broke up, it wasn’t just the relationship that fell apart. It was me. I lost... everything.”

Hotch glanced over at you, his expression softening as he listened intently. He didn’t interrupt, sensing that this was something you needed to say.

“I had a third book deal,” you continued, your voice tightening as the memories surfaced. “It was one of the biggest opportunities of my career. But when everything fell apart between us, I just... I couldn’t handle it. I had to take a leave of absence from teaching. I lost all sense of who I was, of what I’d worked for. I almost lost everything I’d built for myself.” You paused, swallowing hard. “I let him... I let him make me feel like I wasn’t enough. Like I couldn’t do it on my own. And the worst part is, I believed him.”

Hotch tensed. “You didn’t lose everything,” he said quietly, glancing at you again. “You’re here. You came back. You built yourself up again.”

You nodded, though the heaviness of the memories still lingered. “Yeah, I did. But it took a long time to get back to myself. I almost let him take everything from me, and the idea of... of trusting someone again after all that, it’s terrifying.”

Hotch was silent for a moment, letting your words hang in the air. He knew exactly what it was like to be broken by someone you trusted, to rebuild from the ruins of a relationship. And he understood why you were scared.

“You’re not alone in this,” he said gently. “And you don’t have to do it on your own anymore. You’ve been through hell, but you came out stronger. And whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I feel kind of stupid, you know,” you admitted, your tone laced with self-deprecation. “Here I am, whining about my stupid ex and my lost book deal when you... you’ve been through so much more. Losing Haley, raising Jack... I’m over here complaining about my ‘trivial’ issues, and you’ve survived all that.”

Hotch’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, not out of frustration with you, but with the idea that you would belittle your own pain in comparison to his. He had always hated the notion that suffering was something that could be compared or ranked. The losses and hardships you had faced weren’t trivial, and he could see how much they had affected you. He wanted to tell you that pain was pain, no matter the source. That what you went through mattered.

He glanced at you, catching the guilt in your expression, and a small, dry smile tugged at his lips. “I wouldn’t call them trivial,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “We’ve all been through our own versions of hell.”

In truth, Hotch had never really talked about what happened with Haley in a way that felt... open. Most people treaded lightly around the topic, and he let them because revisiting that part of his life was often too painful. But at this moment, sitting next to you, he realized that maybe you were more similar than he had ever allowed himself to consider. You had both been through losses that had shaped you, and you both carried the weight of those losses in your own ways.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Yeah. Quite the pair, aren’t we?”

Hotch’s smile deepened, a rare lightness settling over him. “We are,” he agreed, glancing at you before turning his attention back to the road. “Quite the pair.”

As he drove, Hotch couldn’t help but feel the subtle shift in the air between the two of you. For so long, he had thought of himself as the one with the heavy burdens—the one whose past dictated his present.

But hearing you open up about your fears, about the way your past had nearly destroyed you, made him realize just how much you had in common. He wasn’t the only one who had been broken and rebuilt.

And it wasn’t about comparing whose pain was worse; it was about understanding that, in each other, you had found someone who could shoulder the weight together.

He hadn’t expected to feel this kind of connection, not after everything he had been through. But now, sitting beside you, he felt a sense of hope, the possibility that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

After the conversation outside the car, the drive to pick up Jack was filled with a sense of quiet contentment. There was still a lot to process, but for now, things felt... lighter between the two of you. When you arrived at Jack’s aunt’s house, Hotch stepped out of the car first, greeting Jess before Jack came bounding out of the house, his energy immediately filling the air.

“Dad!” Jack’s voice was filled with excitement, but when he spotted you stepping out of the car behind Hotch, his smile widened even more. “Hey, Y/N!”

You smiled back, watching as Hotch crouched down to catch Jack in a hug before turning toward you. “Hey, buddy,” you said, your tone softening as you knelt to greet him. “How’s it going?”

Jack launched into a story about what he had been up to, and you listened intently, smiling at his enthusiasm. Hotch watched the interaction from a short distance, his heart swelling as he saw how natural you were with Jack. It hadn’t taken long for Jack to warm up to you, and now, seeing the two of you together, he felt a deep sense of contentment. This was something he hadn’t allowed himself to hope for in a long time—someone who could fit into his life, not just with him, but with Jack too.

The three of you spent the rest of the evening together. Dinner was easy and filled with laughter, and afterward, you and Jack played a game he had excitedly explained to you, while Hotch watched from the sidelines, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He could see how much Jack enjoyed your company, and watching the two of you together, he felt more certain than ever that you belonged in his life.

For your part, you were starting to let yourself enjoy it too. Getting to know Jack, laughing with him, seeing Hotch’s softer side as he interacted with his son—it was more than you had ever expected. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to feel the warmth that came with being part of something bigger than just yourself.

Later that night, after Jack had fallen asleep, you and Hotch found yourselves curled up together in bed, the quiet of the night settling over the house. You had your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in years.

Hotch’s hand gently traced along your arm as he spoke, his voice soft in the stillness. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

You tilted your head slightly to look up at him, your brow furrowing. “For what?”

“For opening up,” he replied, his gaze steady. “Not just to me, but to Jack. He’s... he’s everything to me, you know that. And I wouldn’t bring you into his life if I didn’t think you were someone I saw a long-term future with. Someone I care about. Someone I trust.”

His words settled over you, and though he didn’t say the words outright, you knew what he meant. This was Hotch’s way of saying he loved you, without needing to say it directly. It was in the way he spoke, the way he looked at you, the way he had brought you into the most important part of his life—Jack.

You felt your heart swell, the depth of your feelings for him clear as day. You knew you loved him too. But as the realization hit, so did the familiar fear—the fear that if you said it, if you voiced those words, everything might fall apart. It was an irrational thought, you knew that, but it lingered nonetheless. You didn’t want to lose him or Jack. And sometimes, it felt like admitting how much you cared might make it all disappear.

You shifted slightly, your voice soft but sincere as you responded. “I’m... I’m glad you trust me with that. With him. It means more than I can say.”

Hotch’s hand moved to cup the back of your head, his thumb brushing gently against your hair. “You’re not going to lose us,” he said, his voice firm but filled with warmth. He didn’t need to say more—you both understood what was left unsaid.

You gave him a small smile, resting your head back on his chest. The fear was still there, lingering in the background, but in this moment, wrapped in his arms, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—everything would be okay.

A few days after the case, the BAU was settling into its usual rhythm, and the team was catching up on paperwork. The atmosphere was light, and you glanced over at Hotch, who was going through some files at Reid’s desk.

A familiar mischievous glint sparked in your eyes. It had been a while since you’d stirred the pot, and with the team now fully aware of your relationship with Hotch, there was plenty of fun to be had.

You sauntered over to his desk, leaning against it with an exaggerated sigh. “So, when exactly are you going to give us a break, boss? Or are you planning to work us into the ground?”

Hotch didn’t look up right away, but the corner of his mouth curved slightly. “Are you lobbying for the team or just yourself?” he asked dryly, finally meeting your gaze.

You smirked, tapping your fingers on his desk playfully. “Oh, definitely the team. I’m always thinking of the greater good. Right, guys?”

Morgan chuckled from across the bullpen. “Sure, Y/N. You’re always working so hard... at avoiding paperwork.”

You shot him a mock glare. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know that I’m a very dedicated team member.”

Prentiss chimed in, grinning. “Dedicated to getting Hotch to lighten up, maybe.”

You flashed a flirty smile at Hotch. “Someone’s got to. Imagine how tense you’d all be if I wasn’t here to keep things... engaging.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow at you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Engaging?” he repeated, his tone dripping with skepticism.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice just enough. “Yeah, you know... keeping you on your toes. Wouldn’t want things to get too boring around here, would we?”

Hotch remained unfazed, though you could see the barely concealed smile tugging at his lips. “If by ‘engaging’ you mean ‘relentless,’ then yes. Inappropriate at times? Yes. Mission accomplished.”

Morgan laughed. “Man, Hotch’s got jokes now. You’ve really rubbed off on him.”

Prentiss rolled her eyes, but her grin gave her away. “Honestly, it’s kind of scary how well they balance each other out.”

You crossed your arms, pretending to pout. “Scary? I think you mean inspiring.”

Rossi, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, it’s definitely something.”

You turned back to Hotch, raising an eyebrow. “See? They love me.”

Hotch leaned back, giving you a look that was both challenging and amused. “That’s one word for it.”

You were about to come up with another flirty retort when Morgan, always quick to jump in, added, “Honestly, I’m just impressed Hotch puts up with you.”

Without missing a beat, Hotch deadpanned, ��Someone has to.”

The team burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but grin, enjoying the lighthearted teasing. But beneath the banter, there was a warmth between you and Hotch—a mutual understanding that ran deeper than the jokes. Even though he never said it outright, you knew how much he cared for you, how much he valued your presence not just in his life, but in Jack’s, too.

Rossi, sitting across the bullpen, added with a chuckle, “If anyone needs an HR manager around here, it’s definitely for the two of you.”

You laughed, looking back toward Hotch with a wicked grin. “Please, HR wouldn’t stand a chance with me.”

Reid, ever the innocent one, looked between you and Hotch, furrowing his brow. “I mean, technically, you’re not violating any workplace policies... yet.”

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, give it time, Reid. She’ll find a way.”

You threw Morgan a mock glare. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

Before Morgan could respond, JJ, who had been listening from her desk, suddenly chimed in with a sly grin. “Oh, trust me, she will. After overhearing one of your... conversations, I was this close to putting soap in my ears.”

The team burst into laughter, and you glanced at JJ, raising an eyebrow, grinning shamelessly. “What can I say? When I’m passionate about something, it shows.”

Hotch, ever the stoic, kept his expression neutral but gave you a side-eye that conveyed more than words. “I’m sure it does,” he said simply, his tone cool but with that underlying sharpness.

You raised an eyebrow, stepping just a little closer to him, your voice dropping into a teasing tone. “Careful, Hotch. I might have to make it my personal mission to drive you crazy.”

Without missing a beat, Hotch replied, “You’ve been doing that since day one.”

You glanced back at him, leaning in once more, your voice low and teasing. “You know, for someone who pretends to be all serious, you’re pretty good at this.”

Hotch finally allowed a small smile to break through. “Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed softly, brushing your hand lightly against his arm as you straightened up. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Prentiss laughed, sipping her coffee. “HR would probably quit on day one.”

Reid, ever curious, chimed in, “Actually, technically, as long as there’s no misconduct—”

Prentiss interrupted, patting Reid’s shoulder. “Reid, it’s just an expression.”

Morgan, still laughing, added, “Yeah, but with these two, who knows? They might break the system.”

The team exchanged knowing glances, still teasing, but there was no hiding the fact that everyone knew how things had changed between you and Hotch. And as you returned to your paperwork, you caught Hotch’s gaze once more, that subtle connection between the two of you always there—steady, unspoken, but undeniably strong.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #wicked game #kiwriteswords #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

73 notes · View notes

jadeleechsupportgroup · 5 months ago

Text

Closet Prison

“And those pitiable robes return once more to their closet prison.”

You get trapped in Malleus’s closet. Well done.

malleus x reader

cw: none

also on ao3

You are starting to wonder how many different job titles you have collected so far in your short tenure at Night Raven College. Even if you gathered several of them under the ‘Janitor’ heading that Crowley had so proudly bestowed upon you on the first day, there were enough now to make for one hell of a résumé: Glasswork Repair Technician, Antique Plumbing Specialist, Magestone Recovery Agent, not to mention every version of the word ‘therapist’ that existed. Now, you suppose, you could add Laundry Cleanliness Coordinator to the list.

“I demand to speak with someone at once! This is an outrage!”

Ah, yes. How could you forget Customer Service Punching Bag.

You peek out to the front reception area, hiding between hanging garment bags and swiping your over-steamed hair out of your face. You could have easily - and correctly - guessed at the owner of the voice for several reasons, primary among them 1. This happens every week and 2. Anyone would know that voice because no one ever gets to stop hearing it.

No one is coming to his rescue, even though you know you are not the only one on a shift today. But you are the closest one to the door. You balance your fingertips on the white paneling and close your eyes, steeling yourself for battle, your best and brightest fake smile serving as both armor and weapon. You tuck your lint brush into your back pocket in case you need something portable that won’t leave a mark.

“Why, Sebek, fancy seeing you here,” you say in a voice not your own. Your Customer Service Voice is a different person. You don’t know her. “You’re looking very well.”

“No, I am not!” he shouts, rattling the change in the tip jar on the counter behind you. Before you can have a chance to react, he shoves a garment bag with a paper receipt into your face. “You have made a grave error, and you must pay for it immediately!”

Your smile wanes, but you stay strong. “Me? In particular? Are you sure?”

“Who else would have committed such an unforgivable act, human?!”

You fold your arms patiently. “Perhaps you could enlighten me as to the error of my ways?”

Sebek flings down the garment bag in disgust. You catch it, somewhat, but its heft and size make for an awkward movement, something Sebek no doubt enjoys. “Since humans are of such feeble mind, I shall, as they say, ‘spell it out for you.’”

His chest heaves, and you brace yourself for the volume that’s about to assault you and anyone else within a three-mile radius.

“You have misplaced the ceremonial robes belonging to the great Malleus Draconia!”

The urge to beat him over the head with the tip jar strikes you abruptly, but you file it away. Inside, a very small part of you does panic - did Malleus bring some valuable, irreplaceable robes from home? But then you realize what Sebek means, and all you can do is wonder whether you could make assault with a deadly weapon look like self defense.

You put on your Voice again. “Like, his orientation robes? I didn’t even see those come in.”

“Of course not! And now they have landed in someone else’s filthy, unworthy hands!”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” You hang up the offending garment bag and check the receipt. Sure as shit, it has Malleus’s name on it. You refrain from suggesting this is all part of an elaborate prank. It would be funny, but you’ve heard enough of Sebek’s voice for one day. “I’ll get it sorted out.”

“See that you do! And that you prepare an apology for Lord Malleus at once!”

You force yourself to take a deep breath and hold it until he storms out the door. The tip jar lives to see another day.

You go over the books and cross-check a few numbers. A simple mistake - someone accidentally skipped a line on one side of the page, so now the entries are misaligned. You check the tag on the inside of the robes and find Leona’s name embroidered on the lining.

The prospect of hiking across campus with a heavy garment bag longer than you are tall is hardly enticing, but you don’t have much of a choice. The last thing you want is for Sebek to come back in ten minutes demanding to know why you haven’t fixed everything by now. You pull on your coat and head outside.

It’s cool and cloudy out - probably normal September weather for some, but you hail from somewhere hotter this time of year, and you’re already cold. The chill hastens your steps as you make your way across the stones and grassy pathways to the Hall of Mirrors. You wish you had a giant mug of hot cocoa or spiced apple cider. One of each, you decide as you step through the Savanaclaw mirror.

The jump still leaves you queasy, but the warm humidity of the pocket dimension embraces you and eliminates the cold clinging to your shoulders. You wander past groups of students, trying to catch glimpses of their faces while avoiding eye contact. You don’t recognize anyone, so with a sigh, you plod toward the main building.

A tall beast-eared student leans against the wall of the entryway like some kind of bouncer. You’re hoping he’ll ignore you, but he stands to his full height and blocks your path.

“You lost?” he asks gruffly.

“I need to give these to Leona,” you say evenly, losing some of the bravado that empowered you against Sebek earlier. “His robes got mixed up with someone else’s.”

He leans in and sniffs the air around you, prompting you to move away, bringing a satisfied glint to his eye. His ears twitch, but he finally backs off and resumes his post. “Go on.”

You find yourself breathing a little more deeply in a vain attempt to slow your heart rate. It would not do to pass out from a panic attack in the midst of all these predators. It occurs to you that you don’t know where to find Leona, but you really don’t want to ask any of these people for directions, so you start wandering. You’re up the stairs and halfway down the hall when a door opens and a familiar head of sandy brown hair ducks out of it.

“…last time I help that guy with anything,” he grumbles to himself. He glances up at you, and his dour expression lifts a bit. “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Hi, Ruggie,” you say, breathless from the stairs. “I have Leona’s robes.” You have to pause for one huge breath. “They got switched around at the cleaners.”

Ruggie cackles. “That explains a lot. I’ll swap ’em out - he just went back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” You hand him the garment bag. He disappears back into the room, then returns with a different bag. Unfortunately, it’s no less long or heavy. You decide to fold it in half, hoping it will be a little easier to carry. “Best of luck with…whatever he’s having you do this time.” You gesture vaguely at the closed door.

“Haha, yeah.”

You’re almost too warm from all this manual labor by the time you re-enter the Hall of Mirrors, but the shock of cold that smacks you full force on the other side of the Diasomnia mirror leaves you instantly shivering. Is it always this cold in here? How does anyone stand it? The fog curling around the clusters of thorns at your feet does not help. Unlike at Savanaclaw, you don’t see any students milling about here. Just a long, lonely stone walkway winding up through the mist to the castle.

You hope just a little that the doors will be locked and you’ll have to leave, but no luck. The massive wooden doors are propped open, though nobody is standing guard here. They probably assume (correctly) that no one would waltz in here without a reason.

You try not to make it too obvious that you’ve never been in Diasomnia before, but there are plenty of things to gawk at in the lavishly-appointed lounge. Fine leather seating, antique wood tables that look like the much nicer versions of the ones in your dorm, expensive imported rugs - yet even with all that, and the flickering green candle flames dotting the room, the whole space feels…vacant. Lacking. And cold. So cold you can smell the stone.

“H- hello?” you call out, losing what little courage you had remaining. You consider leaving the garment bag on the nearest chair and escaping to safety, but a set of footsteps catches your attention.

“Why, good afternoon,” says a sunny, cordial voice completely at odds with your surroundings. He smiles and tilts his head to one side. “What can I do for you?”

“Lilia, right?” you guess, and to your relief he nods in response. “I’m just returning these.” You set the garment bag down, suddenly aware of how badly you were scrunching it. “Malleus’s robes,” you add.

Lilia blinks his bright cerise eyes. “Oh, that must be where Sebek went in such a hurry.” He allows himself a light chuckle. “You didn’t need to come all this way just to bring these back.”

“Yeah? Sebek was ready to burn me at the stake for it, so…” You frown over the state of the garment bag. You didn’t mean to crumple it so badly, but it just got so freaking heavy after more than a few minutes. “Would it be alright if I brush these out before I go? They probably got wrinkled, and I’ve reached my quota of stake burnings for the month.”

“Of course!” Lilia seems a little overjoyed at the idea of a visitor, but at least he is polite and appreciative of your efforts. “Right this way.”

You have to endure another set of stairs, passing by an enormous bat-winged chair at the top that would be practically comical in any other situation. Lilia trots along merrily ahead of you, humming to himself as you study the iron latticework of the huge windows lining the hall. Outside, you catch glimpses here and there of the gargoyles that stand guard along the parapets. The green firelight casts shadows through the grating that appear to bring their carved stone faces to life.

“Do you like architecture?” Lilia asks, bringing you out of your musings.

“Yeah, I guess so. This is all…very different from what I’m used to.”

“Well, you are certainly free to stop by at any time. We love having visitors.”

Lilia stops at a set of double doors and tugs them open before leading you inside. He looks about to say something when his watch chirps at him. He checks it curiously. “Hm? Oh, of course. We have a club meeting - I nearly forgot.” He offers you another kind smile. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, but I trust you can find your way out?”

“Pretty sure.” You balance the garment bag on one arm while you try to open the closet doors with your other hand. There’s an absolutely frigid draft in here, strong enough to disturb the curtains, and you wonder if Malleus is one of those monstrous types that sleeps with the windows open. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and be careful with that door. It can stick a little.”

With that, he bounces out of the room.

You hook the hanger over the closet railing and unzip the bag. The damage is minimal, actually; the robes’ heavy brocade fabric is pretty resilient as long as it’s dry. But you spot a few dozen hairs that must belong to Leona. You’re glad you brought the lint brush now.

The cold draft of air spills over your shoulders and freezes your hands. This is getting downright ridiculous. You step back into the main room and go to close the windows, but they’re already closed. The breeze is just there. You grumble to yourself about having two hot cocoas and two apple ciders upon your return home and go back to your work.

Malleus’s entire room looks like it hardly receives any use at all. Whether due to his position as housewarden or his family name, his closet is larger than what you would expect for a dorm room, large enough to stand in comfortably. (Although, for him, you think, perhaps not, as his horns might brush the ceiling. That would be funny.).

You can hardly concentrate because it’s so damn cold. You finally get fed up with it and pull the closet door most of the way shut behind you, leaving just enough of a gap for light to enter. The relief is instantaneous.

You carefully brush and straighten the robes, ensuring all the stray hairs and lint fluffs are removed, trimming a stray thread here and there. You run your fingers over the specially tailored openings in the hood. They’ve been hand-sewn by an expert, even adorned with their own decorative embroidery. You appreciate the craftsmanship, knowing that few people would notice it, let alone care.

As if enraged by your attempts to thwart its presence, the draft of air returns with a vengeance and slams the closet door. You jump - at the noise, the sudden inky darkness, the freshly chilled breeze - and, feeling indignant about it, you push on the door.

Only, it doesn’t open.

You try again to no avail. Then you try pulling on the door, just in case, but it budges even less. You push against it with your shoulder, wondering if this is Sebek’s magical idea of a joke or a punishment, but you’re fairly certain he would rather die than leave you unattended in Malleus’s room. You listen carefully, but you hear no footsteps or voices. Lilia already said he was leaving.

Okay, calm down. Think. And keep throwing yourself into the door while you do it.

You can’t understand why it’s not working. Maybe there’s a magic seal on it. Or maybe you’re just weak. Weak and pathetic.

Frustration turns into a combination of anger and fear and sad. You hate that you’re not able to open the damn door. You hate that you’re getting so worked up over not being able to open the damn door. You hate that thinking about that isn’t enough to make you stop.

“Hello?” you try calling out, but there’s no response. You yell a few more times and knock on the wood for good measure. It changes nothing.

You slump down to the floor and try to breathe. It’s not the dark or the enclosed space that gets to you. Good thing, too, or orientation day would have been a lot more graphic for your audience. It’s just that the whole thing makes you feel…

…stupid.

Your eyes are adjusting to the dark, for all the good it does you, which is hardly any. And the cold breeze has now permeated the supposedly impenetrable barrier, so you’re shivering now, too. You reach up and feel the hem of the robes that caused you all this trouble.

Well, it hardly matters now.

You tug them off of the hanger and snuggle into them. A gentle, woodsy perfume wafts up from the depths of the silk lining, subtle but strong in the enclosed space. You press the fabric to your face and draw in a deep breath. The smell soothes your nerves - fallen leaves, pine needles, fresh rain, even a touch of mycelium.

You don’t have forests around where you’re from. You’ve been to them a few times, sure, on camping trips and one brief foray into the world of hiking, but none of them smelled quite like this.

You lie on your side and stare up in the general direction of the ceiling. The breeze hits your face, so you pull the hood down to shield yourself. You would laugh at how ridiculous this is, but you’re too worn out to care. You roll onto your side and let your eyes loll shut.

“-classes today?”

You mentally tell the voices to go away. You haven’t slept this well in ages.

“They were adequate. I shall go to the library later to acquire some other materials.”

You don’t want to get up. Even though you’re not really that comfortable…

“Excellent idea, my liege! I shall be honored to acquire all the necessary books for you!”

Your eyes shoot open. You’re not dreaming anymore.

The past few minutes - hours? - come back to you, and you scramble to sit up, fumbling with the robes you were using as a blanket. You’re about to try the door again when the voices come back.

“Do not trouble yourself on my behalf, Sebek. I am quite capable.”

“It’s no trouble, my liege!”

You sink back against the wall and try to control your breathing. You don’t even want to imagine what Sebek will say if he finds you like this. Whatever it is, it will cause permanent hearing loss.

You sit in the dark and wait.

“Very well, Sebek.”

“Thank you, Lord Malleus!”

You grit your teeth in annoyance and wish Sebek would go buy a personality since he doesn’t have his own. No wonder Malleus looks to be in such a dour mood all the time. He must have eternal patience to tolerate someone like that. You wouldn’t last ten minutes-

Light suddenly bursts in front of your eyes and blinds you. You squint and hold up one hand to shield your face against the brightness.

Malleus blinks down at you.

You wonder, briefly, what this must look like to his eyes. You, disheveled, wrapped in his ceremonial robes, on the floor of his closet. You are positive that every blood cell in your body is rushing to your face.

You don’t even have time to stand up.

Malleus steps inside and closes the door, plunging you into darkness once again.

“Wh-?”

“Shhh,” he whispers with hardly a breath of air. A rustle of fabric, and his hand locates yours without any of the blind searching you would have done. He helps you stand.

“Behold, Silver! I have been chosen to accompany Lord Malleus to the library!”

“Sure thing, Seb…”

You giggle before you can stop yourself, then clamp your hand over your mouth in a vain attempt to shut yourself up.

“S-sorry,” you stammer hopelessly. “I didn’t, um. It’s a long story.”

Heat soars to your face when Malleus closes his hand over your mouth.

“Shhh,” he says again. You can’t see a thing in the dark, but you can tell he’s listening. He must still faintly hear their voices. You have no idea. You can’t hear a thing over the fervent hammering of your blood against your bones.

You have no idea how long you both stay like that, unmoving, but eventually he pulls his hand away from your mouth. You take several panicked breaths even though you were breathing just fine.

He seems alarmed. “Have I injured you?”

“No, no. Sorry.” You give up and laugh, first from nerves, then relief. “I’ve just been stuck in here for…hours, I guess.”

A bulb of green firelight winks into existence and hovers above your head, where it casts sharp shadows over Malleus’s features. You think of the gargoyle statues. But rather than fierce and intimidating, he looks amused.

“Lilia mentioned that you dropped by to return my robes,” he says. “Did he not warn you about the door?”

You scoff. “He said it sticks a little. Not that I would need inhuman strength to open it.”

Malleus reaches forward and gently tugs the hood off of your head. You forgot you’re still wearing the robes and start to pull them off, but he stops you.

A smile seems to flit across his face, though it may be a trick of the light.

“They suit you,” he says with a low, delicate laugh that turns your heart upside down in your chest. “At least someone has found a use for them.”

“It was cold in here,” you reply lamely.

He leans in close enough that the heat from his breath dances across your nose. “And now?”

You are certain he can hear your pulse louder than you can. One hand is still holding yours, but the other he lifts to the side of your face, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek and ear before sweeping through your hair. You close your eyes and sigh into his mouth.

He holds you as though you are fragile, yet something he does not intend to let go. He mirrors your movements, letting you choose how deep or delicate the kiss, sliding his hand down your back to hold you closer. Everything shows that he wants to be careful with you.

Fireworks burst in your heart and under his hands. You reach up to his face, run your fingers through the liquid silk of his hair. Forest and rain and fresh earth overwhelm you, and you realize faintly that it’s not a cologne or anything artificial. It’s the smell of his skin.

You barely nudge the side of his horn with a fingertip. He laughs against your lips and has to pull away.

“Sorry,” you say breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to…”

Malleus brushes your fingers against his mouth, then cradles your hand to the side of his face. “You simply caught me by surprise. That is all.”

“You first.”

You catch sight of his grin before he snuffs out the green flame. “I only wish this had happened sooner,” he says, wrapping both arms around you. You do, too, though what he next murmurs against your ear suggests that his reasons differ slightly from your own. “What a marvelous hiding place.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst fanfiction #twst fic #twst fanfic #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #rexii writes twst #rexii writes

117 notes · View notes

the-cauldron-witch · 6 days ago

Text

Protecting his Peace part 2

Part 1

As requested by the dear @redsrooftopprincess, here is part 2!! I hope you enjoy my dear!

A special thanks to @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins for giving me a hand when I got stuck!

For the better part of two hours, after you had promptly slammed Raphael’s door shut and locked it with the keypad hidden behind the movie poster, the two of you sat tangled together in his massive bed holding one another. Large arms cradling you in his lap and beak nuzzled into the nape of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair for comfort. Hands reached up and around his neck, rubbing the back it gently and humming a low soothing tune as you held him to the best of your ability given the size difference. Having let out his tears of frustration and allowed you to dry them, Raph simply needed the physical comfort now.

The gentle knock at the door would have gone unheard had the TV been on or music from his radio been playing. He gave you a loving firm squeeze before letting you slip from his muscular arms, feeling the cool air against his skin in the space you left behind. Striding across the room in only a few steps, you took a deep breath and paused just a second long enough to still your nerves.

Lifting the corner of the movie poster again and letting your fingers dance across the keypad, you unlocked the door. Opening the door with slight force, expecting one of his towering brothers, you had to shift your gaze downward to meet Master Splinters. One of his hands holding a pizza box and the other wrapped around his trusted staff.

“I ordered dinner for you two,” He spoke gently, offering the pizza boxes for you to take and just conveniently putting them in the way of the door. “Unless…my son might be ready to speak with me a moment?”

The fact Master Splinter seemed to genuinely ask permission made something in your chest tighten a little. Turning your head to look over your shoulder at the son in question your eyes locked with Raph’s, asking for his input without verbally asking. Taking a deep breath Raph thought for a moment before nodding, motioning for you to allow Master Splinter to enter. Taking the pizza boxes from the elderly rat you stepped out of the way, allowing him to enter.

Shoving a pile of dirty laundry off the nearby rolling chair, Raph cleared a spot for his father to sit while he made his way through the scattered remnants of furniture and other belongings across the floor. Master Splinter took mental notes to perhaps see if Donatello’s welding skills were good enough to make furniture. While the elderly rat made his way to the chair, you grabbed a folded TV table from the corner of the room and made your way to the bedside. Standing the tray table on its legs you remained standing for a moment longer, simply observing. The three of you remained silent for a moment while Splinter got comfortable.

“I spoke with your brothers about the events over the past few days,” Master Splinter shifted his grip on the knob of his staff as he spoke gently, “Before coming to speak with you, I wanted to give you more time to calm yourself and spoke with your brothers first. While speaking with Donatello, he had the idea to ‘hack’ as he says, into the warehouse surveillance system and watch the footage of that night. It showed exactly as you had described that night; the vent giving out from under you and falling”

The elderly rat now holds both you and Raphael’s attention fully. Sitting up straighter now Raph studied his father for a long moment, not bothering to speak or do anything that might prompt this to turn this into a trap to lecture him. A small creak from the bed interrupted the quiet pause as you sat next to Raph, placing a reassuring hand on top of his thigh and giving it a firm squeeze to pull him from his thoughts. The small action didn’t go unnoticed by Master Splinter, tugging a small smile at the ends of his lips. Taking a deep breath, Master Splinter continued speaking while Raph defensively crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’d like to first apologize, my son,” Lifting his head to look Raphael in his emerald eye, Master Splinter apologized sincerely, “I should not have simply went along with those accusations, you didn’t deserve that from your brother’s and especially not from myself. I did not take your emotions into account and turned a blind eye to the disregard towards your possessions. I’m deeply sorry and hope that you can forgive me”

Any sort of anger or frustration that simmered within Raphael’s chest slowly evaporated, sighing the remaining imaginary steam audibly. A lump formed in his throat while remaining quiet, mulling over his word choice before speaking. This wasn’t what he was expecting, he half expected to be scolded for lashing out and busting up his room. Yet his father was openly apologizing and asking for his forgiveness. Clearing his throat of the lump that climbed up his throat, Raph shifted awkwardly on his bed as he unfolded his arms.

“I forgive ya, dad…Not really mad at you in tha’ first place, really. It’s just…” Raph grumbled, his thumb swiping over your knuckles in a soothing motion as he mentally pieced the words to his feelings. Glancing down to the floor as though the words were written there Raph went silent again, a nervous habit his father knew well and patiently waited for his second eldest to speak.

“I made a mistake and owned up to it- if ya could even call it a mistake. Not like I chose that way knowin’ my big ass was going to fall through tha damned ceiling! But it’s like…it was just easier for them ta jus’ say it’s my fault than believe me, Leo didn’t even try to listen ta me. Just told me I was being reckless and defiant again…” The way Raphael’s shoulders slouched as he spoke tugged at your heart. To have someone push aside Raphael’s emotions, his own family especially, so carelessly lit a fire within your chest that smoldered with frustration.

Reaching a bony hand outward Master Splinter placed it gently on Raphael’s shoulder, giving a gentle nudge to coax him to look up. You watched as Raph lifted his saddened, dulled emerald eyes to look his father in the face. Blinking sadly back, Master Splinter rubbed his thumb over the smooth scales of his shoulder.

“And I am very, very sorry that you were made to feel that way. I truly am,” He gave his sons shoulder a gentle but firm squeeze before continuing to speak reassuringly, “Leonardo and Donatello are currently both serving their respective punishments in the ha-shi while Michelangelo is cleaning up your work-out room. I have given him very strict instructions; he is not to leave that weight room or have dinner until he has finished”

It was as strange feeling; open recognition and acknowledgment that Raph had been telling the truth the entire time and beingapologized directly to. Smiling warmly as your boyfriend leaned down, wrapping his arms around his smaller rat father carefully, you felt a warmth in your chest after helping your boyfriend find some resolution. To the best of his ability, Master Splinter reached up and patted his son’s shell in a tight embrace.

“Thanks dad…I really appreciate it,” Raph spoke with a genuine smile of gratitude once separated. A sense of relief washed over you, noticing the way Raph’s features softened from their rigid defensiveness for the first time today.

“And I would like to personally thank you,” Turning his attention to you, Master Splinter slid out of the computer chair his feet silently touching the floor, “Your fierce protectiveness for my son’s peace opened my eyes, showing me how wrong I and my sons were towards Raphael. I very much appreciate your actions, thank you,”

“Any time, somebody has to be in this big guy’s corner,” Patting Raph’s thick thigh gently you couldn’t help but look up at him with a playful wink. He turned that same grateful and sincere smile onto you, leaning down briefly to peck your forehead and send a small rush of heat to your face. That was probably the first time Raph had ever been so openly affectionate towards you in front of his father, at least on purpose. With a small, amused chuckle Master Splinter strolled away with the help of his staff. As he began to shuffle past, he paused for a second long enough to reach out and affectionately patted the top of your hand still resting on Raphael’s thigh before continuing to the door.

“You two take your time and eat dinner, please. When you’re finished, come see me in the ha-shi so we may put this whole mess to rest, Raphael” With that said, Master Splinter quietly opened the door once again and slipped out silently with a small click. The silence that hung in the air felt lighter than it had been before, the electrical charge fading entirely.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starved” Was all Raph said before grabbing the top pizza box and opening it, grinning with delight that his father had gotten him his favorite, deep dish meat lovers with onions. Opening the second box it was your turn to be pleasantly surprised at your own favorite pizza inside. Whatever guilt you felt for landing your boyfriend’s brothers in hot water was set aside for now.

“Mike’s gonna be pissed,” Raph snickered, “He loves meat lovers too but absolutely hates onions, I get them whenever I don’t want him to steal my leftovers…now I gotta worry about Donnie, though” He continued to lament with a devious snicker, knowing that his father had purposefully added onions for just that reason. Taking a mental note of this tidbit of information for yourself, just in case you want to keep Mikey away from your food later down the road, you pulled out a slice of your own pizza with a pleased grin as strings of cheese stretched from the inside of the crust. Master Splinter had even gotten stuffed crust for you, how sweet.

You two ate in comfortable silence, Raph finishing his entire pizza with ease while you still had more than half leftover by the time you were full. Snagging a sharpie from his side table, Raph scrawled your name on top of the box so that- hopefully- no one would steal it from the fridge. Exiting Raph’s room and heading for the kitchen, the first thing that was noticeable was the stench of paint remover hanging heavily in the air. Nose wrinkling as the smell grew stronger, you made your way to the kitchen to put away your pizza while Raph turned to find the source of the smell.

“Oof” Raph huffed as he followed the scent and entered the weight room, nearly choking on the heavy stink of paint thinner. A large canister sat open in the middle of the room next to a growing pile of dirty cleaning rags. Sitting in front of the massive mirror attached to the far wall was Mikey with a rag in hand, wiping the paint off the bottom half of the mirror.

Eyes glazed over and swaying in his seat, Mikey’s blinked rapidly to focus his blurry vision so that he could continue working. A sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, that wasn’t his own motion trails, caught Mikey’s attention and he turned himself to look over his shoulder. The small motion nearly knocked him on his shell, had Raph not been behind him to steady him with his foot.

“Hey, whassup Raphie?” Mikey slurred as he turned around unsteadily, having to plant both palms onto the ground to keep upright. Had Raph not known any better, he would have assumed Mikey was drunker than a sailor on shore.

“Easy, Mike. The hell are ya doin’?” Raph questioned; nose wrinkled as he tried to breathe past the heavy unseen fog that burned his eyes and sinuses. Finally steadying himself in a comfortable sitting position he blinked slowly, mind slowly piecing words together as a dull ache began to settle within his sinuses

“Dad said…I gotta clean this up ‘fore I can get dinner,” Tripping over a few words Mikey explained slowly, reaching up with his free hand to massage between his eyes, “And I’m…sorry about earlier, real uncool of me-”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that right now,” Raph chided gently as he knelt to the youngest brothers’ side, taking the damp rag from his other hand and tossing it into the pile.

Entering the weight room with your chin ducked into your chest and shirt pulled up over your nose in a desperate attempt to block out the heavy smell of paint thinner, you quietly walked up from behind Raph while he was bent over and helping Mikey from the floor. The orange banded turtle stumbled on his feet even with his elder brothers’ help, nearly sending both to the ground had you not rushed over to steady Mikey’s other half.

“The exhaust from the paint thinner must have gotten to him,” you told Raph with concern, steadily walking in sync with the two massive turtles as you and Raph led the youngest out of the gym and into the living room.

“M’head hurts,” Mikey grumbled while you and Raph steered to the couch, guiding him to sit gently as his knees buckles against the frame of the couch. Had you and Raph not helped, Mikey would have simply ended up tumbling onto the couch like a ragdoll. Watching his younger brother rub his forehead trying to soothe the pounding behind it, Raph sighed and shook his head. “For real though…M’sorry about earlier, I feel bad, honestly dude,”

“Ah…I forgive ya, dumbass” Raph sighed, slightly dispirited and shaking his head. Getting an apology and the paint removed from his weight room was what Raph wanted, but not at the expense of Mikey killing what braincells he had. The paint was cleaned from his equipment and weights, the mirror wasn’t a high priority on the list. The mirror was mostly clean anyhow…along with the ceiling.

“I’m goin’ to go and talk to dad really fast. Just sit here for a minute with [Y/N] and get your head straight,” Raph told him, patting his shoulder reassuringly before heading for the ha-shi. Making sure Mikey wasn’t going to fall ass over tea kettle, you slipped into the kitchen and snagged an empty glass from the counter and headed for the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet behind the bathroom mirror and grabbing four tablets of some strong ibuprofen you turned on the faucet to fill the glass. You came back to the living room a minute later where Mikey still silently sat holding his head.

“Here, take these, hon” Gently nudging his shoulder for Mikey to pull his head from his hands, you offered the medicine and glass of water to him. Blinking away the foggy confusion he slowly reached out a tentative hand and took the glass while the other accepted the tablets in his upturned palm.

“Thanks, Angelcakes... You’re a sweetheart, even though I was a such a jerk earlier,” Tossing his head back as he threw the tablets to the back of his throat he chased them down with a few gulps of water. A smile broke across your face at Mikey’s self-reflection, at least your outburst from earlier had some silver lining.

“Raph already said he forgave you and so do I. Thank you for cleaning up as much as you did,” You chuckled, unable to help yourself and wrap your arms around his shoulders for a quick hug. He returned the gesture for only a second before excusing himself to lay on the couch for a moment. A wave of nausea twisted and rolled Mikey’s stomach as he shut his eyes. The fumes from the paint thinner were starting to wear off, leaving a sickly feeling behind as the headache settled particularly harsh behind his still blackened eye.

---

“Shit, shit, shit-” Donnie muttered as his arm snapped outward to catch the errant ping-pong ball with the paddle, popping it up into the air so that he could catch it with the other one. Thankfully Master Splinter, who watched from the other side of the room like a hawk, stopped caring long ago about swearing openly and simply continued to observe. Sweeping his sharp gaze from Donatello to Leonardo, who was rigid as stone while balancing the eggs as instructed.

Raph stood in the entrance in silence, observing his brothers struggling to keep up their performances under their father’s ever watchful glare. Although he had noticed his second eldest son after he walked through the threshold, Master Splinter didn’t acknowledge him right away and allowed Raphael to watch for himself.

“Hey, dad,” Raph announced, voice cutting through the air like a knife, “you wanted me ta come see ya?”

“Yes, Raphael,” Master Splinter pinned Leonardo and Donatello each with a harsh glare that silently ordered them to continue their exercises, then slowly made his way over to Raphael. “I know I already spoke to you earlier, but I’d like to apologize again for these past events. My judgement was unfair and unjust towards you, as were your brothers.”

Turning his head to look at his struggling sons, it was a silent prompt from their father for them to speak. They both briefly glanced at one another, neither sure who should speak first, before Donnie decided to just go first.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t believe your side of the story about the vent collapsing and then shot my grappling hook through your punching bag! F-fuck!” Donnie struggled for a split second as the ping-pong ball decided to arch in a direction that it was not supposed to go, “I thought you had another punching bag honestly- saying that out loud I realize that was an asshole assumption- but either way I have already replaced it myself!”

“You did?” Raph questioned, not remembering seeing a punching bag in the space it usually hung. Thinking back on it briefly, he remembered seeing something black attached to the wall but didn’t stop to get a good look at it.

“I did! It was- shit- supposed to be a Christmas gift, but it seemed appropriate for now” Donnie caught the ping-pong ball before it bounced out of range, “It kind of works like a dance control pad but for boxing! I’ll show you how it works later, I have it programmed with games and-”

“Okay, Donatello, thank you for apologizing,” Master Splinter interrupted politely in order to give Leo his time to speak “Leonardo.”

Clearing his throat of the awkward lump that had formed in his throat during every ha-shi, Leo managed to force himself to look up at Raph. The fact that he was not only wrong but proven so after Donnie pulled up the security video, now he had to openly apologize for it. Thankfully, Raph didn’t look smug or like he was going to tease, just simply crossed his arms and kept a neutral expression.

“I’m…sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said it was an accident. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt and been a better leader in the situation by being more considerate and reasonable,” Leo grunted, straining to keep the eggs balanced in their place as they wobbled at the ends of the chopstick. Taking a deep breath to steady his balance, Leo opened his mouth to continue only for the tap of his father’s staff to interrupt him.

“The inconsideration of not only Raphael’s explanation and situation, but his own emotional wellbeing and personal belongings is rather disappointing to me. I raised the four of you as not only an equal team, but equal in family.” Watching as Leo turned his gaze to the floor again as the guilt weighed heavily on his shell, Master Splinter turned his gaze to Raph, “While your brother is physically the strong among you, that does not make him immovable or without limits and I fear you may have forgotten this fact. With that being said, this punishment may come from me, but the resolution lies with your brother. Raphael, when you feel you are ready to forgive them, I will release them from the ha-shi”

Staring down at his father and absorbing his words, Raph exhaled through his nose with a slow steady sigh while he thought. On one hand, Raph was slightly getting a kick out of the fact that he was very much getting retribution for these past few awful days, but on the other hand…the ha-shi sucked, he knew that, and this didn’t feel as satisfying as Raph would have thought. Neither of his brothers said anything, both equally sharing expressions of guilt and regret as they looked to him.

“Let ‘em go, dad,” Raph sighed, waving his hand dismissively in the air, “I already turned Mikey loose a few minutes ago anyhow…But, I have two conditions”

Having snatched the ping-pong ball between his finger and thumb, Donnie continued to balance with wide eyes while Leo stayed perfect perfectly still, both staring at Raph with mix of emotions. Confused by the fact Raph was letting them go after only a few hours of the hashi, while also concerned and worried by what the conditions could possibly be.

“First condition; I get to do something I have always wanted to do,” Cracking a toothy, devilish grin at his brothers- particularly at Leo, Raph spoke with a slight air of smugness.

“Very well?” Master Splinter gestured vaguely with an open palm, just as confused as his two sons. With permission granted by his father Raph crouched low to the ground, extending his right foot and with one quick motion swept the stacked milk crates from beneath Leo’s feet. A loud thud echoed off the walls as Leo was unceremoniously dropped onto his shell, knocking the wind clean out of his lungs with a burning wheeze.

Crack! Crack! The two eggs flew up into the air and gracefully landed on Leo’s plastrons, yolk and egg white sliding down his sides.

“Punk ass bitch” Leo grunted, blinking up as he coughed and sputtered for air as Raph laughed above him. Slapping a hand over his mouth Donnie tried to stifle the snort that threatened to crack from his throat while hopping off his balancing post. The defiant comment from the downed leader made Raph laugh harder, briefly holding his sides as a stitch formed in his ribs. Reaching out a hand to help Leo up, Raph continued to chuckle at his brother’s misfortune. Taking his hand, Leo was hoisted to his feet and roughly tugged under one of Raph’s biceps for a firm embrace.

“My second condition, since you failed to be a leader to me, I was thinkin’ I lead you for once” Raphael smirked down at Leo, green eyes shining with mischief.

“You want to lead the rest of the mission?” Leo assumed, raising an eyebrow with uncertainty.

“Nah, that would jeopardize the mission, I ain’t that stupid. I’m gonna be leadin’ you in my regular work out regime for the next few weeks,”

Silently blinking at his brother, waiting for a punchline or follow up joke, Leo’s bright blue eyes scanned Raph’s emerald-green ones to see if he was serious. He was. Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, Leo let his shoulders sag in defeat.

“I feel that is a fitting punishment for the crime. Did Michelangelo clean up to my specifications?” Master Splinter questioned.

“Well, he didn’t exactly finish,” Raph rubbed the back of his head, having forgotten that small fact for a moment. “The fumes kind of got to him and made him a little loopy, he was slurring and acting kind of drunk when me and [Y/N] got to him. He’s sitting in the living room with them right now,”

“What!?” Donnie barked, dropping the ping-pong paddles and ball to the ground and rushed out of the ha-shi. “I told him to turn on the vent fans and wear a damn N-95!” He could be heard grumbling rather loudly, marching his way back to his lab to retrieve a gas mask with a determination to finish the job himself. Grabbing some rubber gloves so that the smell wouldn’t permeate his skin Donnie marched his way to the gym.

-----

While waiting for Raph to talk with his father and brothers in the ha-shi, you sat on the edge while Mikey rested on the rest of the couch, laying on his side and draping his arm over his eyes to keep the light out. Worried about Mikey’s health after inhaling the paint thinner fumes for a good few minutes, you stayed by his side, a hand gently reached out and rubbing the side of his shell in a soothing gesture. You wondered for a minute if Mikey had dozed off as he lay there silently.

“How is he feeling?” Master Splinter questioned as he silently wandered into the living room, startling you and making you slightly jump.

“I’m alright, dad” Mikey grumbled, removing his arm that was draped over his eyes and taking a deep breath. You stood so that Mikey could get up himself, peeling himself off the couch and swinging his legs over the side so he could stand. “I’ll go finish cleaning-”

“Donatello is taking care of the rest, do not worry. Thank you for doing as much as you did, but next time your brother instructs you to use proper equipment, please take the advice” Master Splinter requested with a tired smile.

“I’ve used paint thinner without a mask before! I didn’t realize it was that strong,” Mikey defended himself, rubbing the bleariness out of his eyes as he slowly reanimated himself. Walking out of the living room to allow Master Splinter and Mikey to speak, you heard from around the corner Leo’s low voice talking to Raph, vaguely making out what they were talking hushed tones.

“Seriously though, I am sorry about everything. I promise it won’t happen again,” Leo genuinely apologized, wanting to show his sincerity to Raph outside of the ha-shi. Admittedly, Leo still felt like a bit of a dick.

“Thanks, I forgive ya bro. You ain’t gettin’ out of the workout, though” Raph told him back, a smug but still genuine smile still on his face.

“I know, I know. I’m not trying to get out of it... Did you see the boxing thing Donnie set up for you?” Leo changed the subject, knowing well there wasn’t any way around the future work out sessions. He was going to be incredibly sore the next few nights, the ache already setting into his entire muscular system.

“Nah, I didn’t, what is it? He said it was supposed to be a Christmas present or something”

“It’s like a wall mounted Simon Says but for boxing, I guess you could say? Donnie said he found it after a gym went out of business and left it out for trash pick-up. Come check it out with me,” Leo gave Raph’s shoulder a coaxing pat and walked in the direction where his punching bag normally hung.

A warm smile tugged your lips as you watched the two walk towards where the punching bag normally hung, feeling a small sense of pride that your stubbornness had achieved some peace for your boyfriend. After a moment you decided to follow them, curious about this gift as well.

Taglist: @silverwatergalaxy @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @yorshie @truffle-draws-turtles @ninnosaurus @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @luckycharms1701 @tmnt-tychou @suksiskovaikkakuuseen

#TMNT #Raphael #Raph #Raphael x reader #Raph x reader #TMNT x reader #Bayverse TMNT #Bayverse Raphael #Bayverse Raph #Leonardo #Leo #Donatello #Donnie #Michelangelo #Mikey

56 notes · View notes

wowcatboys · 8 months ago

Note

i rlly like your work, heartsteel needs more content tbh,, so ty!! ANYWAY,

i liked the general relationship/kiss hcs w kayn, would u be able to do that for the other two as well?? if that makes sense

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

HEARTSTEEL YONE: RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW, with light touching/sensuality ♡ TW: Some alcohol usage/food mentions ♡ I've done Sett's kisses here (X) and relationship HCs here (X), and Yone's kisses here (X) ! (will I remember to come back and edit those links in??? only time will tell)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

YONE

No matter where you go, Yone brings you on fantastic dates. It's never popular tourist-trap type outings, either. If you ask how the hell he even found out about your date locations, he smiles coyly and says he can't reveal his sources. Regardless, expect lots of breathtaking, original dates—hidden trails that spill into breathtaking clumps of wildflowers, a hole-in-the-wall burger joint with the best fries you've had in tour entire life, tiny sculpture parks with some truly absurd statues (he absolutely refuses to delete the unflattering pic of you squatting next to a caked-up stone Sasquatch).

He isn't on his phone often, so don't be surprised if Yone doesn't text you back quickly or is overly-formal with his messages. Wild horses couldn't drag a silly emoji or a meme out of him. If you're lucky, you'll get a red heart, but that's about it. He tries not to make you feel neglected just because he's a dry texter, though. Especially when he's on tour, he calls you to check in whenever he's got a spare moment.

Yone's a chronic meal-skipper so he really appreciates if you share your food with him. Be warned, though, if you force him to step away from work and sit down for dinner you're either getting five minutes and a cup of instant ramen, or he's cooking you a three course meal complete with different appetizer, entree, and dessert wines. There's no in-between.

While Yone's not a fan of PDA, he holds your hand through every big event you're forced to attend. He doesn't appreciate the attention and flashing lights, but your warm, reassuring grip keeps him calm and relatively content.

Matching outfits are a little bit too much, but Yone is all for wearing clothing that compliments yours. Think similar textures, colors, and cuts. If you're wearing athleisure, he'll throw on a pair of stylish sweatpants. You're rocking the all black fit, so is he (with a pop of color in his earrings, probably—if he's completely monochrome, Kayn accuses him of "stealing his look"). Though he thinks it's a little cringy to be exact matches, he's definitely down to coordinate.

Whenever Yone makes himself a coffee, he whips up a glass of your favorite beverage as well. Nothing is too complicated—if you want a latte, he can make any flavor, and he'll pour the foam into a heart shape on top. Boba? No problem, he's got tapioca pearls in your favorite flavor and large straws on hand, to boot. A mimosa? Okay, he might raise his eyebrow at that one and point out that it's like eleven A.M.—nevertheless, if it's a mimosa you want, then it's a mimosa you'll get. Part of this is because he loves you, of course, but also? He hates sharing his coffee and figures that you won't ask for a sip if you've got your own drink.

Yone absolutely melts when you take care of him. He's used to looking after everyone else's wants and needs, so it's a pleasant surprise when someone extends that same care and attention to him. Cook him his favorite meal or take care of his laundry when he's been extra busy, and he looks at you like you're the eight wonder of the world. "You didn't have to do that for me," he cups your face gently, sweeping an appreciative kiss over your forehead. "But I'm glad that you did."

Chivalry is not dead and Yone's the man giving it CPR. Count on him to be the perfect gentleman. He opens every door for you, takes your coat whenever you drop by his studio, and no, under no circumstances will he let you pull out your own chair.

Yone's pet-names are sweet and classic. Most often, he calls you 'my darling', but he'll occasionally pepper in a 'dearest' or 'lover' for variety.

One of Yone's favorite ways to spend a free evening with you is sneaking into underground music shows. The two of you will turn up to somebody's house where the living room has been cleared to throw together a makeshift stage, or an abandoned warehouse with people clustering together and swaying to synthetic beats blasting through mid-grade speakers. More often than not, the musicians aren't that good (but that's par for the course with these kind of shows). The atmosphere can't be beat, though. And, when you do stumble upon somebody's garage band that actually goes hard, it's always an exciting surprise. Yone always keeps cash on him in case somebody's selling merch. He snags two stickers, one for you to keep and one to paste on his guitar case. What better way to commemorate shitty bands and crowded house shows than with matching stickers?

If you tag along with him on tour or business trips, Yone's first mission is to scout out a good coffee shop. Of course he takes you along, and buys you whatever little treats catch your eye. Sweets, sandwiches, snacks—anything he notices you ogling behind the glass, he orders for you.

Even with his massively packed schedule Yone NEVER, EVER forgets an important date. Expect gifts on birthdays and anniversaries, and extra love and support on dates that might be difficult for you.

Since Sett's a master crocheter, Yone pays him a frankly absurd amount to make you a plushie that looks like his fox mask. Yone knows that it can't be easy for you, with him away touring or on business so much of the time. The stuffed snuggle-buddy, he hopes, can ease your loneliness when he's away. Before he sets off on a long trip he makes sure to spritz your stuffie with his cologne, so that you can squish it in your sleep and dream that he's right there with you.

Yone's not a huge cuddler. Too much physical attention can make him feel smothered. The exception is when you sit on his lap. He loves when you settle onto him while he's working. As long as you're quiet and still (he doesn't want you to disturb his flow, after all), he basks in your comfortable warmth and the adorable way you tuck yourself into his chest.

#heartsteel #heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel x reader #heartsteel yone #heartsteel yone x reader #yone/reader #yone x reader #yone lol #yone league of legends

168 notes · View notes

rollinouttahere-writes · 9 months ago

Note

helloo!! Can we please have dark chocolate number 13 with Ace pls \(//∇//)\ thank you!!♡♥︎♡♥︎╰(*´︶`*)╯🍫♡

Yandere Ace x GN!Reader

1.1k words

Prompt:

I’m so happy to have you here with me, I will never want anyone else. You have more of a hold on me than you’ll ever know.

It’s been a few hours since you’ve last seen Ace. An eternity in his book, barely a breath of fresh air in yours. During your precious alone time, you elected to stay in his cabin and tidy up the place. His tendency to just throw shit and leave it wherever it falls left the room in a chaotic state, and that got on your nerves given that this is where you spend almost every waking moment of your day.

Going out amongst the other people on the Moby Dick always left a bad taste in your mouth. They would give you pitying glances at best, but never lend a hand to help. They ultimately cared more about Ace’s well being than yours, and since your presence was directly tied to his mental state, your fate was sealed.

You never asked for any of this. No one wants to get dragged off onto a pirate ship because the captain of it got too attached. You had a glimmer of hope that you may be able to escape after the Spade Pirates were forcibly disbanded by the Whitebeard Pirates, but as already stated. They weren’t much help. At first they couldn’t even get close to you without Ace trying to kill them, but eventually he grew on them. Then they were helping keep you on board, lest he spirals.

The relationship you had with Ace could be very draining. That fun, rambunctious side of him that had originally drawn you in was only a part of him. A front that he put on. In reality he was an intensely depressed individual that had become much more comfortable showing that side of himself to you.

In normal circumstances, this would be a heartwarming show of trust. Typically this would be a steady step in the right direction to build a healthy relationship, but nothing about your relationship was healthy. The exposure to his depressive episodes felt suffocating more than anything. While he would be sobbing into your chest and clinging to you for dear life, you would be forced to comfort your captor out of pure guilt from seeing him look so broken. You felt more like an emotional support animal than a human significant other some days.

Going back and forth between hating and pitying him was dizzying. Not to mention the bizarre form of codependent love that had been thrown into the mix. You never knew what direction your emotions towards him would go any given day, just like you never knew what kind of a mood Ace would be in.

It was exhausting. You felt like you needed a vacation to recuperate at the end of every day, but you of course never got one. So you would have to settle for the moment of peace you’ve been granted in this messy cabin.

The door is suddenly kicked open and you internally curse. Your quiet moment is done and over with now. You should have cherished it more.

Strong arms lock around your waist, heave you up, and spin you around. Ace seems to be in a good mood today, which is a plus. “(Y/N), I missed you!”

“It’s only been a couple of hours, you’re acting like it’s been months,” you muttered, more to yourself than him.

“What? A couple of hours is a long time, it felt like months.” He had mercifully stopped spinning and was looking around the room. “Where’d all my stuff go?”

You rolled your eyes, “All I did was stuff your dirty clothes into the hamper. Don’t know why you even have that thing seeing as you never use it.” It had a fine layer of dust that would gather over it in between your sporadic uses when you got fed up enough to clean.

“Not everything was dirty, most of those were still good!”

“It’s not “good” if you have to do like three sniff tests to determine that! Just wash that shit!” You were squirming to get out of his grasp, thoroughly irritated from bickering about you cleaning up his laundry.

Ace laughed and shrugged, “Maybe I’ll do it later.” Yeah right. He walked towards your shared, unmade bed and tossed you onto it before throwing himself on top of you. Oh. He’s feeling cuddly today. Great. Well, as long as he doesn’t start crying it won’t be so bad.

A kiss was placed against your cheek with enough force to squish your face, and then he unceremoniously flopped down, further squishing you into the mattress. Instead of using your chest as a pillow like he usually does, he nestled his face into your neck. His arms snaked underneath you to keep your bodies fully pressed together.

The man was a walking furnace, so you were already beginning to sweat. Such a thing didn’t bother him, but it was uncomfortable for you. Not that your discomfort was enough to deter him, you would be stuck in this position until he’d gotten his fill. This was far from the first time you’ve been subjected to this, so you knew what he wanted. One of your hands plucked his already partially dislodged hat from his head and tossed it aside so you could run your fingers through his messy hair, the other one rubbed slow circles on his back.

Ace hummed in contentment from your ministrations, and his body sagged more than it already had against your own. His hair was tangled, a common occurrence for anyone primarily living at sea. Your fingers worked meticulously to undo all of the knots. You weren’t particularly gentle with it, but he wasn’t flinching from every tug so you can’t imagine it was that harsh either.

For a while, nothing is said. Ace enjoys your company, while you feel obligated to acquiesce his wants and desires.

“I’m so happy to have you here with me, I will never want anyone else. You have more of a hold on me than you’ll ever know.” The words are spoken in a hushed whisper directly into your ear.

There it is again. That pesky, traitorous feeling of affection. The flutter of your heart from being so desperately wanted- needed even. Your impulsive inclination to comfort someone so clearly in need even though it’s absolutely not your job to do so. You wanted to “save” him almost as badly as you wanted to save yourself.

It made you question if he was the only one with serious psychological issues here. Have you always had this savior complex, or was it a recent development brought on by your living situation?

This wasn’t something you wanted to think about today. You sighed and clutched Ace closer. Maybe it would be for the best if you just turned your brain off for a little while? Thinking too hard on your circumstances has never done you any good.

#one piece #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #portgas d ace x reader #yandere #reader insert #x reader #mostholy

214 notes · View notes

moonheecore · 11 months ago

Note

tysm for doing my prev ask! got me all hot and bothered, you truly never miss!

now requesting K for jake <3

Glad you like it! Keeping my promise of doing K hehe so here you go!

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Messy: I don't know how to properly define this term, but Jake likes it sticky, dirty, and wet, encompassing a plethora of activities under this umbrella. In cum play, he drowns different parts of your body— your ass, your back, your boobs, your face with ropes of his creamy semen. After he eats your pussy, he'll ask you to open your mouth like a good girl and let his drool mix with your arousal spill into your mouth and forcing you to swallow before sucking on your tongue and lips while you kiss each other. In food play, he buys canned whipped cream and decorates your cunt and tits like he's a barista and add some sprinkles before rubbing and grinding his body against yours to spread the mess. When you squirt, you best bet that he'll hold your legs wide for you to spray his face and body, letting you drench the mattress and him with your scent. Just know that whenever you guys have sex, you'll always have a pile of dirty laundry ready to be cleaned.

Somnophilia: The fact that Jake gets so sleepy and tired easily makes me feel like he'll be really into it. He comes home about to shut down from work, but you're pouting at him because he promised you on the phone that you'll fuck tonight. He gives you a defeated sigh and strips his clothes off, laying on the bed and telling you that you can do whatever you want to his body. He watches you with heavy-lidded eyes as you suck his hard cock and play with his sensitive nipples but when he blinks and blacks out for a few seconds due to sleep, he wakes up to you riding on his cock like a toy, watching you grope and play with your tits is enough to make him cum into your warm pussy. He also likes to wake up to morning blowjobs or sex because he's so drowsy from waking up that it makes him ten times more horny. He easily slides his cock inside of you the moment he wakes up, rocking his hips while closing his eyes, letting out small desperate moans because he's too sleepy to move faster.

Fingering: Oh, this man knows you have a thing for his hands and fingers— big, slender, soft, and veiny. The way you shamelessly stare at them when he adjusts his rings or flexes his hands is just too obviously cute. He'll trace your swollen folds to collect your wetness on his finger before plunging his digits one by one to stretch your perfect hole until he can feel slick dripping down your thighs. The way your walls are clamping on his fingers makes him go faster, curling them to the side until he's pressing against the spongy spot of your cervix repeatedly. His thumb presses on your clit, circling the bundle of nerves with a rapid pace. Jake won't stop even after you've cummed and lets you ride your orgasm, coating his fingers enough before sliding them into your mouth, forcing you to suck them clean before he thrusts his fingers back into your spent cunt, wanting to taste your sweet nectar as well. It's also so easy to do it in public, to have you sit on his lap or at his side, telling you to open your legs like a good girl and push your panties to the side to have some fun.

send an ask based on the NSFW alphabet template together with one or more members in the hyungline.

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen jake hard hours #enhypen alphabet ask

196 notes · View notes

reverieblondie · 10 months ago

Text

Neighbors

Chapter 3: Web-Heads

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: None....But it's starting to heat up...

Summary: After a terrible night you find that your restless, turns out your not the only one who isn't asleep at this hour. Maybe things will start looking up for you...

A/N: Finally got this done! I have so many fics in the works currently, so I am slowly trying to get them all out but I write slow and can only write when I am hyperfixating on that specific story. it all comes in waves for me unfortunately. Enjoy the chapter!

Word Count: 4,012

Your eyes fly open, meeting the darkness of your room. Nothing is working…

Four hours of tossing and turning, trying to will yourself to sleep but nothing is working. With a sigh and slowly rising from your bed, you conclude that sleep is just not going to happen for you tonight. This should all be expected though, how can you get rest when you feel your life is in knots? Unfortunately for you untying them is going to take longer than one night so sleepless nights seem to be in your future. -damn stress causing you to have insomnia…

Sitting up in your bed your mind starts going back to everything that has happened so far, what could have happened if Spider-man didn’t show up. As you think you feel the pricking ache in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat. With a deep breath you will the feeling down, you have cried enough you don’t want to keep getting worked up. Scanning the room you're looking for a distraction then you find it; your hamper filled with clothes catches your eye. That will have to do.

Pulling on your hoodie, pocketing your phone and keys, favorite fuzzy slippers on your ready; you drag your hamper down to the complex's laundry room, well to the elevator then the laundry room. Typically you wouldn't be doing your laundry at this hour but you're hoping for no company, that must be why you didn’t even bother to brush your restless bedhead. You have already had a rough night, it can't get any rougher right?

Finally making it down to the washroom you walk through the doorway and see none other than your neighbour the spider enthusiast. Just can’t catch a break tonight.

Walking in you try your best not to pay him any mind but you can’t help but notice how he seems very surprised to see you. Well granted it is an untimely time for laundry but he’s down here as well so you should be giving him a look as well. As you go to give him a look you stop, you just don’t even have the energy for that right now. With a sigh, you keep your head down and just do your laundry in silence.

Placing your clothes in the washer you sort them carefully as you go in two different machines, it's just the two of you so you can be a bit rude to get your stuff done. At this point you couldn't care either way.

“Rough night?” His voice carries to you and all you can do is just hum, not denying but not exactly agreeing either.

“Yeah, you look…” he thinks for a moment and you assume he is looking for some kind of insult, that would just be the cherry on top of your night, wouldn’t it? What will he poke at? Your hair? Your clothes? Your puffy face? Your fuzzy slippers? Feeling the anger build at your assumed thoughts you turn to him quickly making him look at you a bit surprised.

“I what? Huh? Are you going to say how I look like shit? How do I look pathetic?” the pain in your chest starts to rise and you just throw your clothes in both washers no longer having the will to sit and sort.

With a slam, you start the washers and go to leave in a huff but as you make your way to the exit in an angered rush one of your slippers comes off forcing you to have to turn back. Spinning around quickly you see Peter is standing with your slipper in hand, a concerned look on his face, already so close to you. If you were not so completely irritated you would question how he got to you so quickly.

“I was going to say you look sad…” it's the gentlest you have heard him speak, makes you feel like an ass from your off-the-handle reaction. He holds out your slipper to you, “Want to talk about it Cinderella?”

With a sigh you grab the slipper putting it back on your foot, “Not particularly…”

“You're not from New York are you?” he asks somewhat suddenly

“What was your first clue?”

“The screaming at the spider.” you look at him and can’t help the small laugh that leaves your throat, he notes this so he keeps going, “Yeah, definitely the dead giveaway. Plus there is you not knowing about this month's rainy week and believing the weatherman, another not New Yorker mistake.”

You sigh, “I can’t even trust the weatherman…”

“Not from channel 12 no, try channel 34, he’s the one I watch.”

“Oh, and here I thought it was your special New York weather sense.”

“Well that helps too,” he says nonchalantly, causing you to laugh again.

You look at him and see that he's watching you with a smile. As he waits for his laundry, “Why are you being nice to me? I thought I was dramatic?”

“Eh, your dramatics are only funny when you're peeved, not sad.”

“Oh, well I am so glad I could entertain you then.”

“Least you can do after waking me from my sleep because of a spider.” You laugh and the room becomes silenced between you two the only sound being the whorling of the washers and the slight music coming from Peter's earbuds filling the room for a long moment. “So was work bad? Did something-”

You are quick to cut him off. “Ah- still don’t want to talk about it.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender humming in agreement. A part of you doesn't know why you don’t tell him. Maybe it is because talking to him is finally making you forget about it, making you laugh and relax a bit. For a second the thought of being in Spider-man's arms hearing his heartbeat comes back to you, how relaxed you felt in his arms, how safe you felt.

“So what do you do? I mean we are around the same age, are you like…let me guess a waiter or something? Or a barista at some hip coffee shop?” changing the subject from you back to him.

He furrows his brows at you in a look of playful disgust “Did you say hip?”

Throwing your arms up you let out a confused huff “What? New Yorkers don’t say hip?”

“No”

“Whatever, so what do you do, judgy pants?”

“It’s Mr. Judgy pants to you, I go to school at Empire State University and I do freelance photography for the Daily Bugle.”

As you two talk the washers go off and you two start gathering your things placing them in the dryer as you continue the conversion. Getting to talk to Peter like this is nice and it’s nice that you two are getting to know each other.

“What kind of photos do you take?” you as casually as you prep the dryer settings.

“People, landscapes, but the Bugle pays me for my Spider-man pictures.”

The mention of Spider-man makes you pause, then you look back to Peter to see that he’s already looking at you but turns his head stuffing the dryer as you notice him.

“Isn’t he hard to get pictures of?” you ask, trying to seem casual about your prying.

“That is the rumor, but I have my ways”

“Oh well we don’t want you giving up your secret ways,” Peter smirks and starts the drier, you come to his side and whisper to him “You can tell me, you know him or something don’t you? One of your buddies or something?”

He looks at you and laughs “More like we have a coworker kind of relationship, but it's all very confidencial I can't say anymore or I will be webbed to a bridge by my feet.”

“I don’t see the problem?”

“Ha. ha. You're very funny” he says, rolling his eyes at you. Before his eyes go towards you while you two sit back down to wait “So, why are you asking about Spider-man?”

Shit, do you tell him you met him? Uhhg but then he's just going to ask more questions as you don’t want to deal with all that prying, quick defect! “He’s a superhero, who wouldn't ask some questions?” -nailed it

Peter just hums with a small nod as a response. For about 40 minutes you loop through idle small talk and silence. You had the least amount of clothes to dry compared to him. Now you two are standing at the folding tables as he helps fold your laundry, you insisted that he didn't have to help you but he insisted otherwise. Peter might not be all that bad a guy, but maybe you can be friendly acquaintances and one day possibly friends.

“Overall, how has your move for your scholarship been treating you?” Peter suddenly asks as he folds one of your towels. He must be used to having to do chores as a kid and he folds rather nicely compared to some other college students you've known.

“Fine…” you say a bit too high pitched to be convincing, Turning to Peter you see that he has a concerned look on his face, almost one of pity…you avert your eyes feeling your chest get tangled up again. Why does he have to look at you like you like that…don’t people know that doesn't help…

“I grew up in Queens. I've been around this place all my life, I can only imagine the adjustment you're going through. If you need help or-” Peters's voice dies off as he looks at you again seeing that you're getting upset. With a sigh, he lazily reaches into the basket to grab something to fold as you watch through the corner of your eyes you see that he grabs your lacy pink underwear. Biting back a laugh you watch as Peter feels the material confused before turning bright red and shoving them back into the basket for something else. As he’s embarrassly apologizing, you break out in hysterical laughter.

You watch as Peter's face scrunches at you, the blush of his embarrassment still on his face. He is not as amused as you are, “Oh, don’t be so embarrassed Peter it's just panties, they won’t bite you.”

Peter rolls his eyes and mocks laughter as he makes his way to the dryer that just got down with his clothes. You finish your folding as you hear Peter suddenly cuss, looking over you see him holding what you assume used to be a white shirt that is now splotched with red and blue.

“Oh no, do you want help fixing it? I think I have some bleach.” approaching him you see him get tense before he pulls out all his clothes in a hurry and slips past you quickly with his basket filled.

“It’s fine I will just get a new one,” Peter starts to move to the exit.

“Wait? You helped me fold my clothes, do you want help?”

“No!” he quickly interjects “I uh, I like to fold my clothes…it's very…relaxing to me.”

“Uh-”

“See you around!” with that he rushes off and all you can do is give him a very confused look at where he once was. -weird.

Despite Peter leaving in a rather rushed and odd matter everything before that was…. nice. After your laundry and chat session, you were finally eased enough to fall asleep for a while and rested just enough to help get you through your workday. As you're getting ready for your shift you turn on the TV, you see the weatherman from channel 12 but you quickly flip it to channel 34; per Peter's advice.

Deciding to dress warmer for today's shift you go with your favorite pants and a black short sleeve. Yesterday's attack is still inching in the back of your mind. The thought of anyone seeing your bare skin right now makes you feel ill. Better tips be damned. Once your makeup is done, a bit darker than you would usually go, you gather your hair to wear it pinned up then you can’t seem to find your tie.

Walking out of the bathroom you scan everywhere for it till you spot it on your nightstand, swiftly grabbing it you put up your hair but you pause for a moment looking at the note…Spider-man…

Grabbing the note you reread the simple message and observe the doodle. He saved your butt, didn't he? Looking out your window you look at the cascading of colors from the setting sun. Would you ever see him again? Get to properly thank him? The city is massive and you hear the bustling of people and machinery. A whole city he has to take care of…that's got to take its toll on a person…

As you're getting swept up in your thoughts your alarm tells you it's time to go. Gathering your coat and purse you double-check your things, wallet, keys, IDs, and planner. Pursing your lips you take a mental note: you still need to buy pepper spray and an umbrella, the weatherman said there will be rain tonight so it looks like you're out of luck for today. Maybe you could order your things and have them delivered here? As you exit your door you look towards your window with the blinds that you keep open.

Huh, you pause before stepping towards the window where your purse was returned. Looking at the window you still see the webbing residue from last night, confirming that it all happened. As your eyes scan the webbing and then go to the city outside only one thought plagues your mind, how did Spider-man know what window was yours?

Leaning on the bar top you let out a sigh as you watch the front door of the bar, the sound of pouring rain and soft thunder is paired with the voices of the few patrons who needed to brave the weather for their drink fix. Peter was right about the weatherman from 34, the guy knows his stuff. Peter… thinking of him you think of how he mentioned he was a photographer for the Daily Bugle… and took pics for the Spider-themed hero…

Turning your head you see the few customers seemingly content and with full glasses, so with that and it being so dead tonight you decide it would be okay to pull out your phone for some internet snooping. Usually, this is something you would never do while behind the contour but Gregory had given you the okay, he felt bad that you had to come in during this storm. The bar tonight was only being managed by three people tonight because of the rain, Gregory and his wife Melissa and you. Melissa was a delight at the bar, plus you couldn't help but smile as she severed drinks while rubbing her growing belly.

Getting comfortable you type Daily Bugle - Spider-man in your search engine and wait for the results. Turns out that the Bugle was not the biggest Spider fan, calling him a menace and blaming him for most things. Though the articles left a sour taste in your mouth the pictures with the articles were amazing. You have seen pictures before, but those were either blurry or from a super long distance. Peter had some talent, you would have to bring that up next time you saw him in the laundry room.

You continue looking at the pictures, Spider-man was something else. His athletic build swinging in the sky, something you did just last night; you can feel your cheeks warm at the memory, if only it wasn't raining you could have looked as you swung with him. A stray thought of the possibility of ever doing it again crossed your mind, though you doubt you would ever see him again or if you did he probably wouldn't recall you. Your eyes focus on every curve of him, the tight spandex makes your mind race with what could be underneath. And those hands…so large…

“Oh, looks like we got ourselves a web-head.” Gregory says with a chuckle as he catches a glimpse of your phone.

“A web-head?” you had never even heard of that before what was he talking about?

Gregory points to your phone with a deep chuckle, “Spiders fangirls, we call them web-heads.”

Fangirl?! Your face goes red and you press your phone to your chest looking terrified which only makes him laugh, Melissa comes to swat his arm. “Don’t tease her Greg.” she turns to you with a smile “Honestly I can’t blame you, he’s just the cutest thing. Though I think he's a bit too young for me.”

You want to deny this narrative of you having a thing for Spider-Man but her words catch you by surprise. “Wait, what do you mean? Have you met him?”

Melissa lights up “I did, he saved my life once. It was a while back but a villain was rampaging the streets and as a car was getting flung towards me he scooped me up and swung me to safety. I tell you, my heart was racing not just from the adrenaline of the situation.” she nudges you and you both share a quick laugh while her husband huffs.

“Why do you think he's young though?”

“Well after he saved me he called me ma’am and I could just tell from his inflections he was still young, still figuring himself out.” -interesting, maybe you two are around the same age.

“Then he left.” Gregory cuts in catching your attention. His face is down as he refills a glass from the tap. Turning back to Melissa she's looking at her husband with a tight-lipped gaze before turning back to you.

“What do you mean he left?” you question

Melissa leans in almost like what she is saying is a secret “Rumor is that after a huge fight with some villains, something in him broke, like he just couldn’t handle all the pressure anymore. He was gone for months almost a full year before he returned to face the rhino. Now he’s just around again like he never left.” she shrugs “Odd right?”

“Yeah…odd…”

With work now over you are standing in your spot under the canopy as the rain is still coming down, though not as heavy as earlier. As the rain falls you think about the hero and his disappearing act. What would make a hero leave? Did he get hurt? Was it all too much? Shoving your hands in your pockets you sigh to yourself, maybe it's best not to dwell on it? Has nothing to do with you, though that gnawing curiosity is still in you, wanting to know more…

Not wanting a repeat of yesterday you buddle your jacket tighter to you, deciding it's best to just brave the rain and take a hot shower when you get home. Taking your first step from the safety of the canopy your skin is immediately chilling at the feeling of the rain hitting your head. Just as you go to start to run a familiar whooshing sound catches your attention making you turn back to the bar. Then right in front of you is a spider symbol.

Looking up from his chest you see an incredibly close spider-man looking down towards you. The second thing you notice is that you no longer feel rain falling on your head looking up and seeing a red umbrella shielding you both.

Feeling completely confused you try to form any words but all you can stammer out is a “wha-huh-what?”

He kinda laughs. It starts naturally but you notice he deepened it a little, “Sorry to spook you, but I figured you could use this.”

“You came here to bring me an umbrella?” you say still filled with confusion.

“Actually I was in the area patrolling for yesterday's robber.” -oh right, “But, then I remembered you and you saying that you don’t have an umbrella, so here”

Standing so close to him you can admire his physic better, pictures definitely didn’t fully do it justice. Maybe these web-heads are onto something….

“Thank you, but I’m a bit surprised you remembered that. I mean I know it was yesterday but don't you talk and save a bunch of people often?”

“Yeah, to be honest I usually have a hard time remembering things or people, but you stuck out to me,” he says nonchalantly. This sudden confession makes your eyes widen as you look at him. Wait? Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

He looks at you and seems to take in your surprised expression interpreting what you might be thinking. “I mean, it's not often I steal people's purses”

That snaps your mind back to your earlier question you had asked yourself before leaving home, “That reminds me, how did you know that was my window when you retired my purse?”

Spider-man's eye lenses go wide for a second before he places his hand on the back of his neck, seemingly shy about it, maybe not the best time to ask him. “That I uh, I got lucky that you left your blinds open so I saw you.”

For some reason, the thought of the masked hero being able to see you through the window makes your cheeks warm. You should close your blinds more often…or keep them open more.

“Well, get home safe and try your best to stay dry, okay?”

“I’ll try my best.”

You give him a confident smile and gently take the umbrella from his hand, as you do you brush your fingers with the warmth you felt yesterday.. Whoever this guy is, he is very thoughtful. But what do you expect from a hero? As you begin to walk off to hurry to your apartment you hear him call for you. Turning you see him in the rain arm reaching towards you but he quickly adjusts himself to a casual stance.

“Do you work late every night?”

“Most nights” you confirm

With a hum, he thinks for a moment before he nods and claps his wet hands together, “Well, I will have to make this a regular patrol area. Have a good night”

Just like last night before you can say anything more to him he's swinging off leaving you to watch his fading figure, though you think tonight he knows you're watching by how he does a backflip in the air. Pretty impressive…

As you get into your apartment your feeling, better. Today was drastically different from yesterday's events, You still adjusting but there is a weight that seems to be lifting from your shoulders and you can't decide if it's from having a calm work day, your relationship with your obnoxious neighbor is seeming to get better, or that fact that you might be developing some kind of friendship with the infamous Spider-Man. Though you don't want to get your hopes up too much…

As you start to set your stuff down and grab a drink from your small kitchen you hear a thwap at your window. Heading over curiously you see a note stuck to your window, grabbing the note from the window you read it:

"Glad you got home safe, you might want to close your blinds before bed.” Then there is a doodle of a spider under an umbrella, very cute.

Looking out of the window you look around to see if you see him around one of the buildings but no luck. Grabbing your blinds you go to shut them before something makes you pause, biting your lower lip you move from the window and quickly grab a loose sheet of some pale blue stationery you bought before your move, you write a note, rereading it a few times before going to your window and placing it on the sticky web.

A giddy feeling spreads through you as you walk away from your window to go to your room. Leaving both windows curtains open…

Tags:

@huesdreamhouse @keiva1000 @spdrwdw @betizda @lunablackcosplay @juliluvhz @avareadsthings @xxrougefangxx @briviny @llpovi @beautyb1ade

228 notes · View notes

jamiewintons · 10 months ago

Text

Here it is, everyone, the moment you’ve all been waiting for! It’s the Fickelgruber’s wife AU wedding night snippet! The 'snippet' ended up being nearly 3000 words, but oh well 🤣

I hope it was worth the wait!!

Warnings: Smut (Minors do not touch!!), virgin!reader, shy!reader, vague mentions of forced/coerced marriage, praise kink, Fickelgruber is pretty soft in this tbh.

~~~

Your new bedroom was far more beautiful than anything else you’d ever seen. The walls were painted the same shade of dark green that your new husband nearly always wore, and the bedding matched as well. The room was lavishly decorated, demonstrating Fickelgruber’s wealth and surprisingly good taste. You had expected a man like him to not have much in the way of taste, but the room was far less garish than you’d initially imagined.

While you were laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, you didn’t notice your husband enter the room until he cleared his throat. You sat up quickly, seeing him remove his jacket to reveal the waistcoat beneath. He folded it neatly and placed it on top of the chest of drawers.

“Good evening, sweetness,” he said with a smile, his eyes trained on your body, which was barely hidden by the thin, green material of the nightgown he had bought for you. Fickelgruber walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and removing his shoes. “You look lovely. Green definitely suits you.”

“Thank you,” you responded, your voice barely louder than a whisper. You were married now, but you still barely knew the man, and weren’t really sure how you were meant to talk to him. All you could hope for was that you would learn in time.

Fickelgruber let out a quiet laugh. “Such a shy little thing, aren’t you?” He patted the spot on the bed beside him, looking over his shoulder at you. “Come and sit beside me.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, you did as you were asked, though you left a little bit of space between the two of you. Fickelgruber scooted closer so you were touching, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. He rubbed it up and down, making your nightgown ride up a little. His fingers brushed against your bare skin and you couldn’t help but let out a little gasp.

Then, he grasped your chin firmly, turning your head so that you were looking into his eyes. You could see the hunger behind his gaze. Your heartbeat quickened, but you weren’t sure whether it was from anxiety or excitement. Before you knew it, he’d leaned in to press a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. You closed your eyes, kissing him back to the best of your ability. It seemed to last for an eternity - but was probably somewhere closer to a couple of minutes - before he pulled away, though only briefly.

“Tell me my dear, have you ever been with a man before?” Fickelgruber asked, leaning in to press some gentle kisses against your neck. You shivered, letting out a shaky breath as his mustache tickled your sensitive skin.

You shook your head. “I… I haven’t,” you admitted, your face flushing. You hadn’t even kissed anyone before your wedding. In your defence, you’d been working in Mr. Scrubbit’s laundry since you were a girl, and you didn’t exactly have a wide selection of prospective partners down there. This admission seemed to please Fickelgruber, as you could feel him smiling against your neck.

“Mmm, good,” he murmured, before sucking a mark into your skin and pulling a surprised moan out of you. He laughed again, before pulling back to look into your eyes. “Don’t worry, my dearest. I’ll be gentle with you.”

In that moment, everything finally hit you. Mr. Fickelgruber— Felix, rather, was your husband now. You were his wife. It was your wedding night, and the two of you were going to have sex. Part of you was terrified, though there was another, hidden part of you that felt somewhat excited by the prospect. You weren’t sure why, perhaps it was simply your mind trying to protect you from the fear?

While you were having your realisation, Felix had returned to kissing your neck, bringing up his hands to slip the straps of your nightgown down. His lips trailed from your throat to your shoulder, and he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself judging by the gusto he employed.

He pushed your nightgown further down, baring your breasts to his hungry eyes. You weren’t quite sure what he was going to do next, but before you even had time to really consider it, he was squeezing one of your breasts in his hand, while he gently sucked on the nipple of the other.

“Mr. Fickelgruber…!” you moaned, louder than you expected, not having expected that to feel so good.

“We’re married now, sweetness, I think you ought to call me Felix,” he murmured against your breast, sounding quite pleased with himself to have elicited that reaction from you. Then, he got straight back to business, sucking on your nipple until it was a hardened peak before switching sides to give the other the same treatment. “Mm, you like it when I do that, don’t you?”

After a few moments, you opened your eyes and realised he was looking at your face, expecting an answer to his question. “Yes,” you breathed in reply, hoping that he’d continue once you’d responded to him.

“Good,” Felix replied, grinning. “Lay back for me then, dear.”

You did as you were asked, and once you were laying down on the bed he climbed half on top of you, tugging your nightgown a little further so that he could trail kisses from between your breasts to your lower stomach. The thought of him being so close to your most sensitive area made your stomach flutter.

“I will make sure to teach you all about how to please me another night.” He was getting lower and lower, and once again, you tried to anticipate what he was going to do next. “But since tonight is your first time, I suppose I should make it special for you, hmm?” With that, Felix pulled your nightgown down all the way, leaving you dressed in nothing but a pair of emerald green panties.

“Oh, you are exquisite…” he mused, his voice slightly deeper than it usually was as he sat up to admire you properly. Judging by the look in his eyes, he wanted to devour you. Felix’s large hands trailed up your thighs, making you let out a quiet whimper. Once he reached your hips, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly began to pull them down your legs.

The cool air of the room hit your sensitive parts, and you instinctively tried to close your legs to keep yourself from getting embarrassed. However, before you could do so, Felix gripped onto your thighs to keep them apart.

“There’s no need to be shy,” he told you, looking down at the area he had just uncovered. His tongue darted out to briefly lick his lips. “I won’t do anything to hurt you, sweetness, you’re far too precious for that.”

You nodded, signaling your understanding. “Okay,” you replied meekly, relaxing your legs.

“That’s a good girl,” Felix purred, and for reasons you didn’t quite understand, you felt a tingling sensation down there. You moaned softly and Felix smirked, making a mental note to remember that you liked that.

All of a sudden, Felix dipped his head down and licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance right to the top of your pussy. You were about to say something about how you were pretty sure his mouth shouldn’t go down there, but all of a sudden he sucked on your clit and all thoughts left your mind.

“O-oh my God!” you called out, bringing your hand up to clap over your mouth and stop anymore embarrassing sounds from escaping. Before long Felix grabbed onto your wrist and pulled your hand away from your face.

He pulled away from your pussy for a short moment so that he could speak. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel, sweetness. No covering your mouth.” Once you nodded, he returned to what he’d been doing previously.

It felt so good that you just couldn’t keep quiet, or still. You let out a series of whines and whimpers, gripping onto the sheets as you writhed beneath Felix’s ministrations. Never had you felt anything close to this kind of pleasure in your entire life.

Felix hummed against you, utterly overjoyed that he was managing to get this reaction out of you. Keeping one hand on your thigh to spread your legs a little further, the other moved to your pussy. He rubbed a finger against your entrance, teasing you for a few seconds before slowly and carefully slipping the finger inside of your wet heat.

It felt strange and slightly painful at first. You’d never had anything inside of you before, and it was quite the adjustment. But it only took a few moments for it to begin feeling good, and once Felix began using it to stroke you inside, you almost felt like you were going to lose your mind.

“Felix…!” you gasped, and he was glad to hear you calling him by his given name without having to be told. When you bucked your hips up off the bed, he used the hand that had been holding your thigh to press down on you to keep you from moving. Once he felt you could take it, he added a second finger inside of you, wanting to get you nice and ready for what came next.

The noises you were making were getting Felix unbearably hard, so he wanted to make you cum as quickly as possible. He went back to sucking on your clit, while crooking his fingers, brushing against the sweet spot inside of you. It only took a few more moments for you to fall over the edge, crying out his name as your walls clamped around his digits like a vice and your body trembling in pleasure.

“That’s it, sweetness, such a good girl for me,” he murmured, pressing gentle kisses to your thigh as he fingered you through your orgasm, aiming to give you as much pleasure as possible. Once he could tell that you were becoming too sensitive - Felix wouldn’t be opposed to overstimulating you, but he knew he probably shouldn’t do that just yet - he slipped his fingers out of you, and brought them up to your lips. “Open up, darling. I want you to know how sweet you taste…”

Your mind was practically blank at this point, so without even thinking you parted your lips, taking Felix’s fingers inside and licking your essence off of them. The two of you moaned in tandem - you because you were surprised at the pleasant taste, and Felix because of the feeling of your tongue swirling around his fingers - and once they were clean he left them for just a few more moments before removing them.

Felix smiled, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss on the lips. “Now, I want you to help me undress,” he told you, and you nodded. Both of you sat up, and with shaky hands you began to slowly unbutton his waistcoat. He watched you intently as you worked, and you felt your heart fluttering.

Once you’d removed both his waistcoat and his shirt, Felix instructed you to sit up by the headboard while he took care of the rest of his clothing. You weren’t sure whether you should watch so you turned your head, though you did peek at him a few times in the corner of your eye.

Felix climbed up on the bed where you were once he was fully nude. You’d never seen a man naked before now, and you only had very minimal knowledge of what they looked like beneath their clothes, but you thought that he was rather attractive. He wasn’t a muscular man by a long shot, but you found that you quite liked it.

He kissed you again, his hands roaming over your bare skin until he reached your thighs. Felix took one of them so that he could hook your leg around his waist.

“This may hurt a bit at first, sweetness, but I assure you that it will fade,” he whispered in your ear, and you could feel his cock nudging against your entrance. Felix started to kiss your neck as he carefully pushed inside of you, and your breath caught in your throat.

Felix’s cock was certainly thicker than his fingers, and it stretched you out more than they had as well. Though, you were grateful for the fact that he’d already fingered you and brought you to orgasm once, because you imagined that the pain might have been worse if he hadn’t.

“Sweetness, you feel incredible,” Felix murmured against your skin. Once he’d bottomed out inside of you, he stayed still for a bit to allow you - and himself, as it had been a lot longer since he’d last had sex than he’d care to admit - to adjust, before he started to move.

His hands caressed your hips as he began to thrust inside of you, and you whimpered in a way that you would have found embarrassing if you’d been capable of thinking right now. Your hands came up to hold onto Felix’s shoulders, and he hummed, sounding pleased.

“Good girl,” he breathed, bringing his head down to gently nip at your neck and shoulder. There was something about the way his voice wavered while he was buried inside of you… it made you feel almost powerful to know that you had this affect on him. You moaned louder, wrapping your legs around him tightly and gripping onto his shoulders.

You were driving Felix crazy. Only in his wildest dreams did he imagine tonight would go this well. He had even considered the possibility that you might not even agree to consummate your marriage immediately - considering the fact that you only agreed to become his wife in exchange for your friends’ freedom - and he hadn’t been planning on pushing you too hard.

But you were his now - willingly, it seemed - and it made him happier than anything else could have. With you, he had everything he ever needed: money, a perfect wife by his side, and - once he and the Chocolate Cartel disposed of Wonka - a lack of genuine competition that would allow him to become even more powerful than he already was.

Felix drew back from your neck to look into your eyes again, and your face flushed even more if that were possible. One of his hands came to rest on your cheek as he leaned in to capture your lips in yet another passionate, hungry kiss. This muffled your moans when his other hand snaked down between your joined bodies to begin rubbing your clit, wanting to tip you over the edge again before he himself succumbed.

When you cried out and began to tremble beneath him, Felix knew that he had succeeded. Your climax triggered his own, and with one final thrust he released deep inside of you, before collapsing onto your chest.

It took a few minutes for the both of you to recover from your highs, and Felix found that the sound of your heartbeat was quite comforting. He’d never experienced this kind of warmth before. Of course he’d had lovers in the past, but they’d never meant that much to him, but you… you were his and only his, and he intended on making sure you stayed that way.

“Well, my darling,” Felix murmured, carefully pulling his softening cock out of you and rolling the two of you over, so that you were now laying on his chest. You looked up at him with your sweet, sleepy eyes and he felt yet another wave of possessiveness washed over him. “It seemed like you enjoyed that, hmm?”

You nodded, still seeming somewhat shy even after all of that. Felix smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your slightly sweaty forehead.

“I did too. You were wonderful, my sweetness.” Felix began to stroke your back slowly and gently, and your eyes began to droop closed. “You cannot fall asleep just yet, I must get you cleaned up first, and then you can sleep as long as you wish. We have nothing to do until we leave for our honeymoon the day after tomorrow.” Secretly, Felix hoped you wouldn’t sleep for too long. He had thoroughly enjoyed himself tonight and was looking forward to teaching you about other ways to please him before the two of you left for your trip.

The two of you laid there for a bit in near silence - apart from a few whispered compliments from Felix - until he ushered you into the ensuite bathroom to get you cleaned up before bed.

Once you were back in your nightgown, comfortably wrapped up in both the blankets and your new husband’s arms, you smiled to yourself. Maybe this wouldn’t end up being as bad as you feared?

#felix fickelgruber x reader #fickelgruber x reader #wonka 2023 x reader #wonka x reader #fickelgruber’s wife au #mari's stuff

139 notes · View notes

ewanmitchellconnoisseur · 7 months ago

Text

"Fuck Love" (Final Part)

A/N: This is the final part of Anti-Love Ettore. Sorry, this took me so long! School is finally over and im ready to get back into writing!

Summary: The three of you in forced proximity was never going to have a great end result.

TW: blood, murder, public masturbation, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, jealousy, rage sex, rough sex, choking, scent kink, sweat kink, fingering, degradation, name-calling,

Word Count: 4.1k

← Previous Part

I cant remember who made the X Banner. If you know please tell me.

To simply say there was tension aboard this ship would be an understatement.

It had only been a week on this ship and the energy that travelled through these halls was palpable.

Ettore had been quiet. Too quiet. Not once had he confronted you or Jarvis, instead he watched. You could tell he was planning something. The way he would stare at you or Jarvis wasn't exactly his best effort at being subtle.

He'd stand behind you any chance he could. When you did workouts he made sure he had the best view of you crawling. When you were getting meds he was pressed behind you even though there was more than enough space. He'd be sure to be around when you were showering or getting out of the box so he could use it after you. Knowing that you were just in there, wondering who it is you were thinking of. The thoughts made him angry but had his cock so hard to the point of pain.

Jarvis on the other hand didn't seem to notice what you and everybody else did. Either the fucker was stupid or just naturally blind. He sat next to you during all meals and talked to you whenever he had the chance. If you were on the bridge he'd be right there beside you trying to hold your hand.

You hadn't given any response back, no indication that you wanted him around. Truthfully you were pissed. You wouldn't even be here if he hadn't dragged you into that mission or left you behind.

above all, you didn't want to react knowing Ettore was watching. If he caught you feeding into Jarvis he'd not only kill him but you too...after he fucks your brains out of course.

Your day had been shit.

That doctor requested all the women to come to her office and did checkups on all of you. You shrugged it off assuming it was probably one of her tasks but it still hurt like hell whatever meds she was giving you guys had you all feeling like zombies.

After finishing laundry duty you had some downtime and like all the other women planned on spending it taking a nap hoping to get rid of the groggy feeling. The break room was small and didn't have much in it but it did have a nice couch.

You get comfortable on the couch slowly drifting off peacefully humming a tune that's been stuck in your head for days.

Stickiness between your legs.

That feeling in your stomach you hadn't felt in so long.

Gentle sleepy moans.

You're not sure how long you had been asleep but you were slowly waking up.

You could feel someone touching you. Still feeling groggy you try your best to lift your heavy eyelids.

But you don't have to know who it is. You can feel it. No one else knew your body better. What got you feeling the way you do now.

You feel a kiss on your temple and more making its way to your collarbone.

His hands move faster pulling out of your slumber. You're close and he knows it. Finally feeling awake you open your eyes.

Ettore is kneeling next to the couch a hand down your pants the other stroking your hair back.

"Who is he?" He doesn't stop moving his fingers but instead begins curling them against that spot he knows you love so much.

"E-Ettore-"

"Who. Is. He." The heel of his hand grazed against your clit ever so gently. As you ignored his question and enjoyed the feeling of being touched after so many months so close to cumming you feel it all stop as Ettore removes his hand. "I won't ask you again."

"My ex. Kind of." You were never in a committed relationship, it was more like a situationship. Though you acted like a couple he never asked you to be his girlfriend and you never asked for him to be your boyfriend.

Ettore licked his fingers clean then said nothing else before standing up and leaving the room.

You were worried. Anyone who knew Ettore would be.

He doesn't like sharing his toys.

Another two days go by of Ettore watching you from afar, only now? Now he has decided to flaunt around the ship with no shirt on. He goes to the box before you do and moans your name loudly knowing you're outside waiting. He knows you want him, knows that you miss him.

His eyes never leave your body and his hands touch you whenever they can. You had been fortunate enough that both you and Jarvis haven't been assigned to any jobs with him.

But everyone's luck runs out.

Your heart almost dropped when you saw Jarvis' name next to Ettore's on laundry duty.

It's not like you cared about Jarvis. He's the whole reason you were here in the first place, but you can't help but remember and love the memories you share with him. The only time you got to experience a normal and real relationship was with him.

You walk over to the laundry room, your heart beating with every step. When you finally arrive you don't bother peeking in first, you waste no time and just walk in.

Ettore and Jarvis are standing facing each other. While Ettore looks relaxed Jarvis's fists are clenched and anger is evident on his face.

"What's going on in here?"

They both turn to look at you. Ettore's relaxed face switches to a smug one. He gives you a wink before turning around and continuing his task.

Jarvis walks over to you and takes your hand leading you out of the room to a quiet part of the halls.

"That's him? The reason why you left your old town?" He wasn't angry but tense. And honestly, he had a fucking attitude.

You nod. "What did he say to you?" You knew he must have said something. Ettore couldn't help himself, he had no self-control.

"Nothing to worry your pretty head over. I can handle him." You do your best not to laugh in his face. His confidence was unmeasured. "Just. Stay away from him. Ok, princess?" And now you wanted to gag.

You hated when he called you that before and you don't like it now. Pet names didn't suit him. He leans in to give only what you can assume is a kiss.

Someone clears their throat. You both turn to see Ettore leaning against a wall watching the two of you.

"I don't plan on doing laundry alone," he mutters his eyes stuck on you.

Jarvis rolls his eyes and plants a quick kiss on your cheek before going back into the laundry room, promising to come find you after.

Ettore stays for a couple more seconds just staring at you. His eyes run over your body and you watch as his hand slides in his pants. He takes in a sharp breath as his hand wraps around his length. His eyes stay trained on you as he pumps himself, squeezing tight to mimic how tight your pussy is.

You keep watching as he speeds up. His mouth hung open as he strokes himself until he cums.

You can't help but watch. You knew just like he did that he was the only one who could truly make you cum. Truly makes you see stars, he was the only one who could have you begging for more.

As if sensing your thoughts he removes his hand.

"Soon." He mumbles before turning and heading into the laundry room closing the door behind him.

All you can do is pray he keeps his word. You're not sure how much longer you can wait.

The following day you resume your normal routine. Completing whatever tasks you're assigned. You spend time with Tcherny in the garden, the only place on this ship that reminds you of Earth.

You both lay on the grass talking about your old lives. Wondering what everyone is doing right now. It's nice and calming and probably the first mundane moment you've had in a week.

Well, that moment is interrupted by the sound of someone screaming. Tcherny stands up quickly and heads for the ladder to get back up. You follow after him praying that something bad hasn't happened. As you make your way up you can hear males yelling back and forth and already know your prayer wasn't answered.

You both make your way to where the screams and yelling are coming from, you see Boyse standing at the end of the hall.

You look down the hall to see Monte attempting to restrain Ettore, blood soaking his clothes as Dibs hovers over Jarvis who's clutching his face. Tcherny runs over to help Monte.

Jarvis' face is badly beaten and there's a gash on his eye. He's screaming in pain, while Ettore is yelling at him.

Dibs administers a random syringe in Ettore getting him immobile enough for Monte and Tcherny to get him to medbay and strapped down. Jarvis is taken away as well to be checked out.

It's a couple hours before you get the chance to talk to Boyse.

She said she had heard arguing coming from the laundry room. She was originally supposed to be there with Ettore but Jarvis had practically begged her to switch with him.

When she arrived Ettore was hunched over clutching his stomach and his shirt was soaked in blood. Jarvis had stabbed him with a shard of glass.

Wait...what? Jarvis stabbed Ettore?

Boyse had screamed catching Jarvis off guard giving Ettore enough room to knock him to the ground. He picked up the shard of glass Jarvis had dropped and stabbed him in the eye. Then he wouldn't stop punching him until someone pulled him off.

That's all she would tell you before wandering off humming that same tune that had been stuck in your head.

Jarvis must have planned it after whatever happened yesterday between the two of them. How stupid could he have been?

Despite your best efforts, Dibs shooed you off every time you tried to get into medbay with threats of upping your dose.

The next two days are spent on edge. Dibs gives no information and tells everyone to continue as normal. Ettore is still in medbay but you know he's awake from the thousands of times you purposefully walk by to get a glimpse of him.

Days were hard to count up in space but by the time Dibs came to give you all new information it had been a week since everything happened.

Jarvis was in a coma most likely due to a head injury. Ettore survived and was healing nicely. Dibs went on to say she knew Jarvis started the fight. Ettore was still being punished considering he had gone too far and would be on lockdown for one more week as punishment.

On the fourth day of that additional week, Dibs wakes you up with a light slap to the arm.

"Come with me." Tired and annoyed you shove the covers off of you and follow after her. As you walk by you look into the other room and see Ettore craning his neck to look at you, his face drowsy and drugged out.

She walks you to med bay and unlocks the door then closes it behind you as you step in.

You look behind you confused as you see her walk away without saying another word. You're about to call after her but then you hear the faintest whisper of your name. You turn around to see Jarvis looking in your direction.

His left eye was wrapped in cloth, the rest of his face still healing from the bruises. His nose was bandaged as well and you could only assume it was broken.

You walk over and take the seat next to his bed. His eye would close every now and then before they would pop open again. He didn't look good and despite him being alive now you knew he would probably die soon. Either succumbing to his injuries or Ettore would come and finish the job.

"S-sorry." He chokes the words out. He sees the look of confusion on your face. What was he sorry for. "I left you behind. I sh-should have taken you with me. I p-anicked."

You sigh as you understand what he's talking about. For the longest time, you wanted this conversation. You watch as he struggles to speak again. You shush him and bring the cup of water next to his lips, helping him sip through the straw before placing the cup back in its spot.

"I meant what I said. I wanted us to get away after it all. I fucked everything up...managed to get away. I was in the clear but the guilt was eating me alive." He opened his hand wanting to hold yours. You place yours in his and watch as he brings your knuckles to his lips.

"It's ok Jarvis. I for-"

"It's not ok." He cuts you off. "I shouldn't have dragged you with me in the first place." He sighs. "I had a cousin of mine in the same prison as you. She told me you were taking some deal. So, I turned myself in and they offered me the same thing. I took it knowing you would be here. I came for you."

Your heart flutters at his words. Your brain is wracked with thoughts. Would Ettore do the same for you? Give up the chance of staying on earth for you? Jarvis was in the clear, he could have taken that money and ran off and lived his best life. But he gave it all up just so he could be with you again.

"Ok, that's enough. Let's go." Dibs snaps you out of your thoughts. You give Jarvis a quick kiss with promises to come back.

While leaving you knock over a tray of stuff which Dibs curses you for as she cleans it up. She shoves you out of the office and walks you back to your bunk before heading off to her bed. In the dark room, you grip the key you snagged off her desk.

The next day goes by ever so slowly. Everything feels like it's being dragged on. In your downtime, you visit Ettore who seems still too drugged up to even say anything but he does his best to keep his eyes open so he can watch you.

You feel relieved when nighttime finally comes. You listen to the hum of the ship as you wait until you think everyone has gone off to bed. When you finally feel as though everyone's asleep you retrieve the key you shoved in the seams of your mattress and slip off your bed quietly walking towards med bay.

You unlock the door and step inside slowly closing the door behind you. Taking back the seat next to Jarvis' bed you gently brush his hair out of his face. It takes a couple minutes before he finally opens his eyes and looks at you.

You're reading the chart next to his bed. Catching up on everything Dibs hadn't told you.

"Not good to read your loved one's chart." You smile and put the chart back in its spot.

"How are you feeling?" You hold his hand.

"Like im dying." Though he has a smile on his face one doesn't reach yours. After reading his chart and Dibs' notes you know that even she doesn't see any progress. "Come on. Lighten up."

"Not funny." You gently rub your fingers over his hand.

"...I want to talk to you about something." You straighten up and nod. "It's about Ettore." You sigh already over whatever he's about to say. "Hey. Drop the attitude. I may have one eye but I can still see your brattiness."

His other hand grabs something from under the covers before he flips your hand over and places something in your palm. It was a syringe.

"It's a strong agent. Can stop the heart. Got it off Dibs." You stare at him in disbelief. "He's dangerous. And you're the only one who could get close enough to him to administer it. Please, it's for your and all the other women's safety."

Was he being fucking serious?! He wants you to kill Ettore...

"You really think you can convince her to kill me?" Everything freezes as you hear his voice. You look at Jarvis's face which is filled with fear. You turn around and see Ettore standing in the doorway.

You stand up as he walks in locking the door behind him.

"Ettore don't-"

"You're no good for her. I've read your file." You tell Jarvis to shut up but he doesn't listen. "She deserves better than degenerate trash."

You could literally see the anger radiating off Ettore.

"She ran from you and came to me. While you were rotting away I was fucking her." God you wished he would shut the fuck up.

"Jarvis that's enou-"

"No, it's not. Don't spare his feelings. Tell him how much you loved it. How many nights we spent together, my dick buried deep in you. He got locked up searching for the real thing not even knowing you were too busy getting your back blown out to worry about him."

Ettore started walking over and you stepped in front of him placing your hands on his chest.

"Please...don't." He looked down at you and ran his thumb over your lips as the other hand came to rest on your hip.

"Get away from her." Jarvis was seething as he watched Ettore touch you.

"He thinks he owns you, love" Ettore smirks as he turns you around bringing your back right up against him. He tilts your head to the side. "He thinks he knows you." He brings his lips to your neck gently biting the area then soothing the burn with his tongue. "The fucking idiot can't even see how every part of you belongs to me."

He pulls your head back by your hair to which you wince.

"Let go of her." Though Jarvis wasn't restrained whatever nighttime sedatives Dibs was giving him kept him weak enough that he couldn't muscle up the strength to even sit up.

Ettore laughs mockingly at his sad attempt. He watches Jarvis struggle as his hand comes around and dips under your sleep shorts. He nibbles on your ear as he runs a finger through your folds.

"She's already wet for me." You can feel him smile. "I wonder. How many times did she have to fake an orgasm for you? Or imagine it was me fucking her to get her through the night?"

His finger circles lazily around your clit. his other hand coming up to rest on the side of your neck, his thumb slipping your mouth to pacify your moans.

"You don't know the first thing about her. You don't know how she likes it rough. How she will squirm and shy away but in reality she wants more. Her favourite position, angle, even all her dirty little kinks." He slowly slips two fingers in. "You were a distraction, a way for her to try and forget me." His fingers curl right into that lovely spot, teasing it. "But don't worry. I'll show you how much my girl loves me."

Ettore pushes you forward laying you against the bed over Jarvis' legs. Too far out of his reach for him to try and get Ettore off you.

He wastes no time pulling your shorts and his own down. He gives himself a few tugs and swipes the head of his cock through your folds. A shiver runs up his spine.

Months. Months he had begged whatever higher power there was that he could find his way back in between your legs again and it was finally happening. And despite him wanting to just fuck you like he used to there would be time for that later. Now? Well, right now he has a point to prove.

"Beg for it slut." His hand comes down on your ass hard earning him a whimper. He turns your head so you are looking in Jarvis' direction. His face is solemn as he looks down at you.

You want to feel bad, you really do. But the excitement at finally getting fucked the way you needed to was all too much.

Another hard slap accross your ass.

"You left me and thought you could replace me?" Another slap. "Do you know how badly I missed you? I know she missed me too." You feel just the tip slip past your folds. "Come on. Don't make her wait any longer."

You give Jarvis a sorry look.

"Please..." You feel the sting of another slap in the same spot.

"You know that's not what I want." He watches the handprint on your ass with a smile on his face.

"Please. Please fuck me Ettore. I need i-" You're cut off by the feeling of Ettore shoving himself fully inside you hitting your cervix effortlessly.

He keeps your head pushed down as the other rests in the dip in your back. The memories of the night before you left flooded your mind.

His pace is relentless and rough. You bite down on your lip probably drawing blood just to keep your moans from being too loud.

"Left without saying goodbye. Didn't even give me a chance. But don't worry, we're together again. And you can't leave this time."

You're practically drooling and crying on Jarvis' leg from how good this all feels. You open your eyes and look up at him. He's staring at your face and your body being brutalized by Ettore.

"You see Travis?" Ettore smirks as Jarvis glares at him. "See how her body responds to me? See how she arches just because she wants me deeper, if only you could feel how she spasms around me begging for my cum. Tell him you want it love."

He leans down and licks a bit of sweat off your back slowing his thrusts down and kissing his way down your spine.

"Tell him how much you love it." His nose rests next to your neck as he breathes in your scent. Something he had gone way too long without. You feel his hand snake around the two of you as he comes to pinch your clit. "Tell him." You wince and try to squirm away but he has you pressed tightly against the bed.

"I- I want it ssoo bad. So fucking good." You're rewarded by Ettore as he rolls his hips. He lifts you up slightly and wraps his arm around your neck so your head rests in the cook. One thing Ettore always took advantage of was your height difference. it made it easier for him to move you around like his own personal sex doll.

He squeezes ever so slightly, not enough to restrict your airflow but enough for you to feel some pressure. He kisses the side of your face.

"Good girl. Don't worry I'm gonna give it to you. Gonna show Jarvis how it's done and your gonna cum real hard for me okay?"

You mewl incoherent words back, too fucked out to keep talking. He stays deep in you only moving enough so he can keep hitting your G-spot repeatedly. His other hand comes around to circle your clit.

"Come on baby. Cum for me. Cum for me so I know you're sorry for leaving. I'll forgive you if you cum all over my dick." You lock eyes with Jarvis, it's only now you see the obvious print of his cock under the covers, clearly hard from what he's watching. "Be my good slut and cum."

And that's all it takes. Ettore holds you up as your knees give in and your body shakes. He coos in your ear but doesn't stop until he empties himself balls deep. Ettore kisses the side of your face muttering words of "good girl" and "my baby".

He helps you put your shorts back on and turns you around pulling you into a passionate kiss. His eyes watch Jarvis who stares, jealousy behind his pupils. Ettore pulls away and smiles down at you.

"You're gonna be good for me, you're gonna go back to your bunk and go to sleep. I'll take care of this." Your heart sinks as you understand his words but you know there's no arguing with him. Either he will do this with you in the room or with you gone. "Go on."

You look back one last time at Jarvis who now looks terrified.

"Wait! Please don't...call for help!" Jarvis pleads with you but Ettore already knows you won't listen to him you turn back around facing your back to him. "Fuck! I was good to you!"

You step on your toes and kiss Ettore on the cheek before going around him to leave.

You hear Jarvis' pleas for you to not leave him alone. He begs for you to listen about how sorry he is, and how much he loves you.

But no one will love you as much as Ettore.

Fuck Love

No one would ever adore you like Ettore does. And he's all you need.

A/N: Again sorry this took me so long to get out to you guys! I am back now and I have SOO many ideas for Ewanverse!

But it's finally over!! I actually loved this ending! And I feel so confident about uploading this so I hope you guys love it too!

Fuck Love Taglist: @scarletbedlam @fan-goddess @qyburnsghost @sadgirlelenora @dixie-elocin

Gen Taglist: @valeskafics @thought--bubble

If you'd like to be added to any of my taglist please let me know!

#ewan mitchell verse #ewan nation #ewanverse #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #ettore x reader #ettore high life #ettore #ettore smut

93 notes · View notes

highdefhoetry · 8 months ago

Text

Behind the Blindfold, ch. 5 [Gojo Satoru x reader]

tags: NSFW!!! female reader, penetration (penis in vagina), unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, tickle kink, creampie, overstimulation, forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, size kink, size difference

summary: you fuck gojo satoru after he finally comes back from an important mission. less plot, more porn

word count: ~3,418

read part 1 here! read part 2 here! read part 3 here! read part 4 here!

read on ao3 here!

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since you’d last seen Gojo. Two weeks since you had run your fingers through his fine, white hair. Two weeks since your lips had marked his skin as yours. Two weeks since he’d been deep inside you, thrusting rhythmically until you cried out in octaves of pleasure. Two long, boring, lonely weeks.

There was only so much time left in your Tokyo assignment. You were set to return to your home country in just a few short days. Gojo, having been sent to Kyoto for some kind of obscure business he refused to disclose, had bid you farewell after the last steamy night you’d spent together.

“When will you be back?” you asked casually with bed sheets draped over your nude body. You kept your tone light and neutral, cleverly disguising your anxiety.

“Who knows…” he mused with a casual shrug, letting the door close behind him.

You haven’t heard from him since. And you hadn’t expected to. Gojo was a busy man.

But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him. You missed the way his big, strong hands roamed your body, how gently they caressed your sensitive skin with his rough and calloused palms. You yearned for the taste of his sweet, pink lips and the trails of kisses he left down your spine, across your shoulders, on the back of your hands. You longed to hear that deep, smooth voice calling out your name in the dark, whispering sweet somethings in your ear, praising your tightness and how good it felt to be inside you and how amazing you were for taking it all.

And those eyes. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

What were you going to do without him?

When the elders had assigned Gojo as your partner, you’d wanted nothing more than to get as far away from him as possible as quickly as possible. Now, the idea of being apart tore your heart in half. The grim reality of being all the way across the world for the foreseeable future was starting to sink in. A stark contrast from the beginning. Despite your best efforts, you’d fallen for him. And now you were cursed to live with these feelings forever.

The days dragged on. You made your peace with things, accepted that you may never see or speak to him again.

You’d be okay.

You always were.

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

The night before your flight home, you hear a knock on the door and rouse yourself from a deep slumber to answer it. It was late. You had been comfortably dozing in bed, so you were less than pleased when you had to get up to greet this unwelcome visitor. Scowling, you head to the living room and peek through the peephole.

It’s him.

In the flesh.

Staring back at you through the peephole, knowing you were looking for him on the other side.

You yank the door open and stare up at the giant sorcerer, who gazes down at you affectionately with a little smirk. Hands in his pockets and shoulder leaning against the door, he greets you in a familiar velvety baritone that melts you where you stand.

“Yo. Miss me?”

You stare at him for several long seconds, drinking up the sight of Gojo Satoru. His impossibly long legs. His annoyingly arrogant smirk. The way he’s leaning over you, slightly hunched, staring down at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes. His clean, masculine smell, a mix of designer cologne and fresh scent laundry detergent.

You grab him by the collar and yank him inside, pressing your lips against his before he can utter another word.

Your hands cup his beautiful face, cradling it as you kiss him again and again. You part your lips and invite his tongue inside to dance with yours. He returns the gesture and places his hands on the small of your back to pull you in close. After some time you throw your arms around his neck and embrace him tightly. You can’t seem to get close enough to feel satisfied.

When you finally pull away, you feel dizzy and lightheaded. You’re not sure how much time passed while you were kissing. It could have been forever. It could have been a second. The two of you are locked in an intense gaze, as if daring the other to speak.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grins, breaking the silence to steal another kiss.

Your fingers reach up and lace themselves in his hair, grabbing and pulling every so lightly. A fluttered moan escapes his lips; he does the same, taking in a fistful of your locks and tugging firmly yet gently. Your head arches back, giving him access to the tender skin on your neck. His lips drift down your jaw and pepper kisses over your neck, eliciting breathy gasps and tittered moans from your parted lips. He buries his face there; you sink your nails into his shoulders.

“Satoru…” his name slips off your tongue. You’ve missed this, how it felt to cry out for him. He chuckles and leans forward, burying his face in your neck.

“Mmm, you smell so good…” his voice ghosts over your skin, sending chills down your spine. He picks you up in one smooth motion, cupping your ass cheeks in both of his large hands as he carries you to the bed. He tosses you down on the soft mattress before climbing on top, showering your face with another flurry of kisses.

You wrap your legs around his waist tightly, anchoring him to your body. You weren’t planning on letting him go again anytime soon. He can see it in your eyes; he grins down at you, famished and ready to make up for lost time.

“I didn’t think you’d be back in time…” you whisper before he presses his lips against yours once more.

“I’ll always come back for you, baby.”

The palms of his hands trail down your sides. His fingertips gently press into your skin, causing you to gasp from the feather-light sensation. He grabs the waistband of your panties and drags them down your thighs, tossing your body around as he yanks them from your ankles. Then he practically rips your top off, savagely tearing apart the buttons to access your bare chest. He groans softly when he sees your erect nipples and tweaks them with his thumbs. You let out a small cry as he cups your breasts in both hands, stroking them gently.

“I can’t take it anymore…” he grunts. His tongue circles your nipple while his hands stroke the tender undersides of your breasts, making you feel ticklish. It’s turning you on, but the sensation is still overwhelming. Going weeks without human touch has certainly made you more sensitive.

“Ahh, Satoru…!” you barely have it in you to beg. You’re ready to let him do whatever he wants to you, for as long as he wants.

“That’s right,” he pauses his worship of you for a moment. “Say my name.”

“Satoru…”

“Say it again. Louder.”

“Satoru!!”

A deep chuckle falls from his lips. When you look up at him again, you see a familiar ferocity in his eyes. One that’s only present when he battles, and when he fucks you . His hands wrap themselves around your ribcage, and you know what’s coming next. Your pussy is already throbbing from the anticipation.

“Wait, don’t-”

“Too late,” he squeezes your waist, causing you to squeal and arch your back. You grab his wrists, trying to push him off, but he’s got an iron grip on you, and the way he’s tickling you is making you weak. It’s intense; you had forgotten how evil he could be when it came to torturing you this way.

He leans forward and chuckles in your ear. His breath tickles your neck, making you squirm and giggle even more.

“I’ve missed your laugh,” he coos, still not letting up on his tickle attack. His fingers ghost your sides, sliding down to your hips where he gropes them with a bit more pressure. “And I’ve missed watching you squirm like this.”

Out of breath and a bit hoarse, you whisper a half-hearted “fuck you”, prompting him to laugh. He responds by kissing your breasts once more, then letting his lips trail down your waist. He lingers at your stomach, drinking in your soft giggles and quiet moans as he kisses your belly button, the creases of your thighs, the edges of your hips. After teasing you there for a while, he finally plants his pretty face in between your thighs. Where it belongs. When his mouth presses against your warm mound, you moan so loud the neighbors have to have heard. His skilled tongue twirls around your clit, licking it in just the right way. The weeks and months you’d spent fucking each other had strengthened his intimate knowledge of your body. Truly, nobody could fuck you as good as he could.

The licking of your clit, the kisses he gives to your second pair of lips, the slight teasing of his finger around your hole is almost too much to bear. He’s teasing you, keeping you on the edge so you don’t come too quickly. You buck your hips upwards, letting him know you want more. But it goes ignored. Gojo Satoru is taking his time. Even when you grasp his hair and pull his face back down, he simply continues his soft torment. You start to whine when he pulls away, earning another amused chuckle in response.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” he smiles, wiping a few beads of sweat off your forehead. “You look frustrated.”

“You’re teasing me!” you cry out with furrowed brows.

“Mmm, am I?” he drags his fingers down your thighs, then smiles wider when you flinch from his touch. “I thought you liked it when I was gentle?”

You feel his hand slip into your hole, just one finger at first, then two. The other hand continues to stroke your thigh. The sensation of his long finger inside of you causes you to roll back your head and moan in pleasure. He pumps it in and out slowly, his speed decreasing with every thrust. You wait for him to curl his finger upwards, stimulating that spongy spot inside your walls, but it never comes. He simply goes in and out, in and out, occasionally drifting across it, but never touching it directly. It’s driving you insane.

“Satoru!” your cries have become more frustrated, more desperate. “Please…!”

“Oh, is the big, tough sorcerer girl begging now?” he smiles cheekily, speaking to you in a sing-songy voice.

“I want to cum,” you whine, feeling your lower lip tremble. God, you couldn’t take it anymore, you were sure you’d go mad if he didn’t…

“Alright, alright,” he assures you, picking up his speed as he shoves another finger inside you. “You’re lucky you’re so cute…”

He gives you what you ask for. A mind-shattering orgasm that makes you squirt all over his hand, wetting it with your juices. He pulls out his hand and licks his fingers, as he always did after fingerfucking you. All while gazing down at you with those beautiful blue eyes of his, full of affection and something else a bit more sinister.

“Fuck, you taste good…” he muses while admiring your sweaty, naked form. You close your eyes and take a moment to catch your breath, but suddenly you feel his fingers enter you again, curling slightly on that same spot.

“Sato-” you start to call out for him, your confused tone melting into one of shocked pleasure. In a few short seconds, you’re cumming again, this time even harder than before. The orgasm ripples through your body, sending waves of pleasure over every nerve ending. Your cries increase in pitch and volume, music to his ears. He simply smiles down at you, enjoying the show his hands have created.

“There you go. Just like that.”

You wait for him to pull his fingers out again, but he never does. Your widened eyes stare up at him, imploring him for mercy.

“Satoru, wait, give me a second…!”

“Hmm? But I thought you wanted to come?” He sneaks his arm underneath you, pulling you in close, giving him further access. “I’m simply complying with your demands.”

With him holding you like this, your movement is restricted and you can’t do much besides writhe around in his arms. His face is so close, you can feel his breath on your cheeks and the warmth of his skin pressed against yours. His fingers are still pumping inside you, and they coax out orgasm after orgasm until you feel like you’re going to pass out. He doesn’t stop until you nearly do. You lose count of how many times you’ve cum, how much you’ve squirted on his hand, how often he’s smirked at you while turning you into a complete mess.

And he’s still not finished.

He pulls away for a moment to strip, peeling off the layers of clothing under his uniform while you take in large gulps of air, recovering from the electrifying orgasms he’s given you. When you see his cock swing out after he pulls his pants down, you push yourself up to take it in your mouth. Oh, how you had dreamt about sucking his dick. His perfectly huge, girthy dick. He’s already hard, but when you take it in your mouth, you hear his airy moans and feel it throb and stiffen against your tongue. You decide to pay him back for his earlier teasing, focusing your tongue and lips on the tip of his dick. Pre-cum drips into your mouth as you kiss, lick and suck at his reddening cock. He grabs your head and tries to shove your face further onto his shaft, but you resist. You take his entire cock in your mouth, but only once, and only for a second, before pulling it out and caressing the tip once more. His grunts and groans become increasingly frustrated, and for a moment, you feel vindicated.

But you can’t wait any longer. You need to taste his load, and you need to taste it now . You grab hold of his shaft and take him in your mouth completely, letting the tip hit the back of your throat to the point where you almost gag. You manage to hold it together; you want to swallow it all, claim it as yours. It doesn’t take long for it to happen. He explodes inside you after a few more strokes, and you swallow all of the cum that leaks from his tip until he goes flaccid. His grip on your hair loosens, and you feel him running his fingers through your hair. His eyes flutter open; he cups your cheeks and strokes them with his thumbs.

“Fuck…” is all he can muster.

While he recovers, he leans forward to kiss you again. First on your lips, then your cheeks, then your neck. He purposely flutters his lips across your ears and neck, knowing that it’ll make you squirm. He laughs with you, relishing in the numerous ways he can elicit sounds and reactions from you. He kisses down your shoulders, arms, and hands. He caresses your waist and hips with the gentlest touch. He presses his lips against your thighs, shins, and feet, leaving no part of your body untouched. By the time he’s kissed every inch of your skin, he’s hard again, and ready to come inside you.

That was the great thing about Gojo. His endurance was truly legendary.

You’re soaking wet when he sticks it in, from the countless orgasms and the soft worship. You cry out, even though it’s only the tip, and wail a little louder when he slowly pushes in his cock. He moans in falsetto, making a sound so sweet that it makes you clench your walls even tighter against his cock.

“Fuck,” he says through his clenched jaw. “You’re so fucking tight…”

You wrap your thighs around his waist again, trapping him in place. You had waited too long for this feeling. You weren’t going to let him escape. He thrusts into you like rapid fire, the only sounds you can hear are the slapping of skin and your high-pitched moans sung in unison. He unwraps your legs and takes hold of your ankles, then rests them on his shoulders while gazing down at you. His eyes never leave yours; his sweat drips on your skin and mixes with your own. His cock pumps into you once, twice, a third time, and then… another warm eruption fills you. The two of you are panting heavily and soaked with sweat and cum. He gently lowers your legs, feeling them up as you shiver from his touch. Your body is hypersensitive right now. Every little touch sends shockwaves through your skin. He collapses beside you, a bit winded but not as out of breath as you would expect. Meanwhile, you’re gasping for air and waiting for the stars in your vision to subside.

“You really did miss me, didn’t you?”

He nudges you, and you roll your eyes in response. Reality is starting to dawn on you again. This was the last time you’d ever get to be with him in this way. You sigh and try to force the pit in your stomach to go away.

When he sees the downtrodden expression on your face, his face softens and his tone grows gentle.

“Hey, don’t look so down,” he comforts you, stroking a finger across your cheek.

“This is the last time I’m going to see you, isn’t it?” You look away, trying to hide whatever sadness he sees in your eyes.

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“I’m going back home tomorrow,” the tremor in your voice breaks through, giving you away. “And then I’ll never see you again.”

Gojo Satoru falls silent, for once. He takes a moment to ponder, tapping a finger on his chin as if deep in thought. Then, he suddenly snaps his fingers and looks at you with a smile.

“Oh, yeah. About that,” he speaks in a casual tone. “You’ll actually be staying here indefinitely.”

Your head perks up after you process what he’s said.

“...What?”

“Ah, apparently somebody made the request some time ago,” he says, rubbing his finger under his nose. “It seems that your services are still needed.”

“What… who…?”

He shrugs. “No idea. But you know how this goes. We can’t act against the precious elders’ wishes.”

You furrow your brows and gawk at him, at first in disbelief, and then with a realized giddiness you couldn’t hide no matter how you tried to force it back. You feel your lips curl up in a smile and can’t stop yourself from latching onto his arm.

“You…!”

“Me?” he grins.

You crawl forward, your breasts pressing against his chest, and plant a kiss on his lips. When you pull away, he’s looking at you expectantly, lips curled in a smirk, eyes wide and playful.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?! I was so depressed, I really thought this was the last time…”

“Weeeell, you wouldn’t have fucked me so passionately if you didn’t think this was the last time, no?”

You shove him playfully while he laughs at your expense.

“You jerk! You insufferable, annoying, thick-headed jerk! ”

“Such awful traits, and yet you couldn’t help but fall madly in love with me.”

You scoff and roll your eyes again. “And what about you? You fell so hard for a stubborn, hot-headed, stick in the mud like me that you begged the elders to let me stay.”

“Is that right?”

You nod, grinning victoriously. He shakes his head with a laugh.

“You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

He gazes at you for a moment, as if taking in your features for the first time. Then, slowly, he leans over and kisses you.

“So, now what? Are you finally going to accept those soft and tender emotions of yours and let me in?”

“Now…?” you speak softly, letting your words dance over the fluffy pillows you’re laying on. He waits for your answer, holding his breath.

“Now… you’re mine. And I…” you pause for dramatic effect. “...am yours.”

Gojo Satoru smiles wide, taking you in his arms and holding you tightly in his embrace. A place you’ve always belonged, and always will.

#jjk smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru #minors dni #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you

140 notes · View notes

sidekick-hero · 5 months ago

Text

I'll keep you like an oath (may nothing but death do us part) - my contribution to the @steddiesummerexchange for @starryeyedjanai can now be read in full 🥰

Pairings: Steve/Eddie, Robin/Chrissy Characters: Steve, Eddie, Robin, Chrissy, Max, Dustin, Wayne Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake Marriage, Platonic Stobin, Platonic Hellcheer, idiot4idiot, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, Humor and Fluff and a smudge Angst

Summary:

When Steve's grandmother dies, he finds out that he can only get his inheritance - half a million dollars - if he marries someone. It's her way of forcing Steve to live a heterosexual life. Sucks for her that gay marriage has been legalized since she wrote her will. Sucks for Steve that he doesn't have a man or woman in his life to marry. Cue Eddie Munson, roommate and best friend of Robin's girlfriend Chrissy and the guy Steve has had a crush on for years.

What could possibly go wrong?

Read on AO3

Chapter 1| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 4 (5k) under the cut

The day of the wedding arrives with an almost surreal sense of calm. The venue, a charming garden nestled behind a quaint bed and breakfast just out of town, is adorned with delicate fairy lights and fresh flowers. Eddie stands in front of a mirror in a small, cozy room, adjusting his tie for the tenth time. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady the nervous energy buzzing through him.

Chrissy, his best person, just like Robin is Steve’s, stands beside him, offering a reassuring smile. "You look great, Teddy. Steve’s going to swoon when he sees you.”

He looks at his best friend in the mirror and gives her a small smile. "You know it's not like that, Chris."

She hums. "You keep saying that, but I don't know. Yeah, you're getting married so he gets his inheritance, I get it. But that's not what the way he looks at you says, honey."

"Chris -"

"I'm just saying. He was flirting with you when you two first met, so he must think you're hot."

"Yeah, and I blew it," Eddie reminds her, his voice forlorn. He's still kicking himself over how stupid he was, how prejudiced he was, not realizing that this great guy was hitting on him and blowing his chance by being a jerk to him.

By the time he finally realized that Steve was actually a good guy, he had already backed off and stopped all his earlier attempts to get to know Eddie. Eddie had gotten the message loud and clear. He was too late, and Steve had already moved on.

A knock on the door interrupts their conversation. Eddie is glad, especially when he sees who’s standing in the doorway.

"Wayne!" he exclaims, jumping into the older man's arms. "You made it."

The man’s laughter rumbles against Eddie’s chest. "I told you I would be here, son. It's not every day your nephew gets married, is it?"

Eddie sinks deeper into the warm embrace, inhaling the smell of Old Spice, cigarette smoke, and the laundry detergent his uncle has been using for as long as Eddie can remember. It smells like home.

Eddie reluctantly pulls away from Wayne’s embrace, his heart feeling lighter. “I’m really glad you’re here, Wayne. It means a lot to me.”

Wayne pats Eddie’s shoulder affectionately. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now, where’s this Steve fella I’ve been hearing so much about?”

Eddie’s stomach tightens at the mention of Steve. “He’s probably getting ready~~.~~ Let me introduce you.”

They make their way through the cozy hallways and out into the garden. The atmosphere is cheerful, filled with laughter and the scent of blooming flowers. They turn left to Steve's dressing room and when they knock, Robin answers with a busy expression, a tie pin between her teeth. Eddie spots Steve in front of the mirror, nervously adjusting his tie.

“Steve!” Eddie calls out, his voice steady but with a hint of excitement. He's unexpectedly nervous about introducing Steve to his uncle. Wayne is his only family, the man who raised him like Eddie was his own son, and his opinion means a whole lot to Eddie. He's always wanted Wayne to be proud of him, and he can't help but hope that he'll approve of Steve.

Steve turns, his eyes lighting up when he sees Eddie. He walks over, his smile widening as he notices Wayne but Eddie can tell by the crinkling of his brows and the tense line of his shoulders that Steve’s just as nervous as Eddie is. “Hey, Eddie. This must be your uncle.”

Wayne steps forward, extending a hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Steve. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

That makes Steve pause, even as he reaches for the offered hand. "You did?" he asks, sounding way too surprised and incredulous, and Eddie winces.

Well, yeah, Wayne may have had a front-row seat as he went from being angry about how unfairly hot the jock who invaded their apartment is to being distraught when he realized that said jock is actually really dreamy and sweet and that Eddie is such a fucking idiot for blowing his chance with him.

Not that Steve needs to know any of this. Eddie had told Wayne an only slightly altered version of Steve's cover story, so he hopes Wayne won't bring up Eddie's pathetic pining and mooning.

Steve catches himself, and as he shakes Wayne's hand firmly, his expression becomes warm and welcoming. "I wanted to say: Nice to meet you too, Mr. Munson. Eddie's told me a lot about you, too."

Wayne just chuckles at Steve's fumble. “Please, call me Wayne, you’re part of the family now,” he insists, his eyes twinkling with genuine interest. “So, you’re the one who’s been making my nephew all starry-eyed, huh?”

Eddie feels his cheeks heat up, and he tries to brush it off with a laugh. “Wayne!”

Steve chuckles, a slight blush coloring his own cheeks. “I guess so. Eddie’s been pretty special to me too.”

Wayne’s smile widens, and he looks between the two men with approval. “Well, it’s good to see you two together. Eddie deserves someone who appreciates him.”

Steve’s eyes soften as he glances at Eddie. “I appreciate him more than he knows.”

Eddie’s heart skips a beat at Steve’s words, and for a moment, he almost forgets about the ruse. The sincerity in Steve’s eyes makes him wonder, just for a moment, if maybe he isn’t the only one harboring some very real feelings.

Wayne claps Steve on the back, breaking the moment. “I’m looking forward to seeing you two tie the knot. If you ever hurt him, though, you’ll have to answer to me and my shotgun.”

Steve nods solemnly. “I understand. You have my word, Wayne.”

Wayne gives a satisfied nod before turning to Eddie. “Alright, I’ll let you two finish getting ready. Just wanted to say hi before the ceremony.”

Eddie watches as Wayne heads off to mingle with the other guests, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. He turns to Steve, who’s still watching him with that same warm expression.

“You okay?” Steve asks softly.

"Yeah, just nervous," Eddie admits, running a hand through his hair. "This all feels so... real, it's fucking with my head a little bit, I guess. It's weird that our friends and family are all celebrating this special day with so much, I dunno, enthusiasm. They're all so happy for us, Steve."

Steve steps closer and puts a reassuring hand on Eddie's shoulder. "I know. And I feel bad about lying to them, too. I wish we didn't have to, but..." he trails off, and Eddie knows he means to say that he doesn't want to get any more people involved in what is really a scam. But Eddie can't help wishing they didn't have to lie because it's real.

"I get it, Stevie. And I'm fine. All in, right?"

Steve takes his hands and squeezes them. "All in."

The ceremony itself is a quick affair. The officiator is an elderly woman, who speaks in a warm and calm voice about marriage and promises, about sickness and health, about sacrifices and the blessing of a life full of love and joy and laughter. Eddie can hear a few sniffles from their friends and family, but he only has eyes for Steve. Steve, who looks so handsome in his black suit and fitting bowtie, his hair tussled artfully and his hazel eyes shining with emotion. It’s not real, a voice inside his head reminds him, but just for this moment he quiets it and enjoys the feeling of having the man he’s actually in love with look at him like that.

When it’s time for the vows, Eddie’s voice trembles slightly, but his words are steady and heartfelt. He talks about how much Steve has been surprising him again and again, showing him so many unexpected sides of himself. When Eddie had thought Steve to be just another rich asshole jock he’s proven to Eddie how he’s caring and brave, opening his heart to Eddie when all his previous experiences taught him not to.

“And I can’t wait for you to keep me on my toes for the rest of our lives,” Eddie ends. He means it. If he has any say in it, he’ll happily have Steve prove him wrong for as long as he lives.

Steve blinks back tears as he takes Eddie’s hands. His vows sound just as heartfelt, just as real and tomorrow, Eddie will probably overthink what it all means. But today, he lets his heart enjoy them.

After their vows they exchange rings, and the officiant pronounces them married. As they kiss, the garden erupts in applause and cheers and Eddie can hear Dustin whoop and Jeff whistle loudly. He feels a wave of happiness and relief wash over him and sees the same sentiment reflected on Steve’s face.

He nudges him, the grin loud in his voice. “That wasn’t so bad, wasn’t it?”

Steve shrugs, aiming for nonchalant and failing miserably because of the answering grin splitting his face.

“You think your grandma would’ve liked it?” Eddie asks and Steve laughs out loud.

“Oh she would have hated every second of it.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“Yeah, it is.” Suddenly, Steve’s much closer than he had been seconds ago, their noses almost touching. “Thank you, Eddie. For everything.” And then Steve kisses his cheek, his soft lips gracing the arch of his cheekbone in a way that feels more intimate than the quick kiss they exchanged when the officiant told them to.

The reception is a blur of laughter, dancing, and heartfelt toasts. Robin and Chrissy’s are both hilarious, while Wayne chokes up a bit when he asks Steve to take good care of the only son Wayne’s ever had. Steve takes Eddie’s hand and squeezes it while looking at Wayne and promising him to always look out for Eddie and care for him.

Even Captain Hopper says a few words, and Eddie can tell how much that means to Steve.

The night ends when Eddie falls asleep with his head on Steve’s shoulder, slightly drooling on his husband's lapel. Steve half-drags, half-carries him to their room and helps him undress to his underwear before Eddie crawls under the sheets. When Steve offers to sleep on the ground, Eddie is too tired to argue. Instead, he just pulls back the blanket on the other side of the bed and makes grabby hands at him.

Steve chuckles softly and slides into bed next to Eddie. The last thing Eddie feels is Steve’s breath against his nape as he tells him goodnight. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

The next morning, they enjoy breakfast with their closest friends and family. The air is filled with laughter and the clinking of dishes as everyone shares stories from the previous night. Wayne presents them with their wedding gift - a two-week stay at a cabin situated by one of the Great Lakes in the area. It's the same place where Wayne used to take Eddie for fishing trips when he was a boy.

“The cabin,” Wayne tells Steve, “has always been a special place for Eddie and me. I thought you two could use some peace and quiet after all this excitement.”

Eddie’s eyes glisten as he accepts the gift. “Thanks, Wayne. That means a lot.”

Steve places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his own smile warm and genuine. “It sounds perfect. Thank you, Wayne.”

As breakfast winds down, Eddie and Steve find themselves surrounded by well-wishers. They say goodbye to everyone, exchanging hugs and promises of phone calls and visits.

Wayne pats Eddie on the back. "Take care of each other up there. And don't forget to fish.” He adds with a deadpan look.

Eddie groans in embarrassment. "Oh my God."

When everyone but them and Robin and Chrissy have left, Eddie feels a mixture of excitement and nervousness. They're supposed to go back to Steve's apartment, while Chrissy and Robin will go back to Chrissy's apartment. He moved in with Steve the week before, and they both helped Robin move in with Chrissy. He was glad that the wedding had taken up a lot of their time and energy, enough to distract Steve from missing his other half too much.

That will change now, but at least they have two full weeks at the cabin for Steve to get used to having Eddie around a lot more.

The drive to the cabin two days later is filled with lighthearted banter about music and comfortable silences as Steve and Eddie enjoy the scenic views on their way to their destination. It feels easy between them, and Eddie curses himself once again that he could have had this for years. Like Elizabeth Bennet, his own pride and prejudice got in the way.

When they finally arrive, they're greeted by the sight of a quaint cabin nestled on the shore of one of the Great Lakes, its surroundings offering a sense of peace and seclusion. There are no other cabins in sight, and Eddie knows from all the times he's been here with Wayne that the nearest neighbors are about 15 to 20 minutes away on foot, and the nearest store is in a small village about 20 minutes away by car.

"Your uncle was right, it's perfect here after all the stress and excitement of the last few weeks," Steve says as they gather their belongings from the car and approach the cabin. The lake is right in front of them, the sun reflecting off it in a way that Eddie has come to associate with endless summers spent here fishing with his uncle.

"Yeah, don't tell him I said that, but Wayne's usually right about things."

Steve mimics zipping his lips, earning a laugh from Eddie.

As they step inside, they take a tour of the small cabin. There's a decently sized open kitchen and a living room with a small couch and a dining table. No TV, which won’t be a problem because Eddie brought his laptop. The bathroom is equally small but has a rather big walk-in shower, something Eddie can’t help but imagine testing out with Steve. Him on his knees in front of Steve, while droplets of water rain down on them, catching in the thick patch of chest hair and running down towards…

“Eddie,” Steve calls, ripping him from his fantasy.

“What’s the matter?” he calls back, quickly hurrying out of the bathroom and towards the only room they haven’t checked out yet—the bedroom.

Which he quickly remembers has only one bed. Eddie had slept on the couch when he had been still small enough to do so and later on an air mattress they brought along.

Steve glances at him with wide eyes and then back at the small couch in the living room, immediately offering to take it. Eddie shakes his head.

"It's fine, Steve. We've shared a bed before," Eddie tells him with a reassuring smile. His cheeks heat with the memory of Steve’s warm breath against his nape before he fell asleep on their wedding night. When he had woken up the next morning, Steve had already been gone from the bed, something he mourned for the five minutes or so it took Steve to step into their room with only a towel slung around his hips. The sight had been the best consolation prize he could’ve asked for.

Steve looks at him, relieved. "If you say so. Just don't hog all the blankets."

Eddie grins. "No promises."

They unpack their bags and settle in, the cozy cabin quickly feeling like home. The first few days fall into a blissful routine—swimming in the lake, taking long walks along the shoreline, cooking meals together, and watching "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" on Eddie's laptop.

On their second afternoon, while preparing lunch, Eddie tries to impress Steve with his nonexistent proficiency in making pancakes. This earns him the heavenly sound of Steve’s laughter as his sad attempts to flip a pancake end with batter splattered everywhere.

"You're supposed to flip it, not fling it," Steve teases, wiping batter off Eddie’s cheek. Eddie's cheeks heat under his gentle touch.

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. "Hey, I'm trying. Cooking was never my strong suit."

Steve smiles, handing him another spatula. "Well, lucky for you, I'm a great teacher."

And he is, even if the way he presses himself up against Eddie's back, the way his big hand rests on Eddie's wrist as he holds the pan, is unfairly distracting. Eddie messes up a few more times, mostly because he gets caught up in the way Steve feels, smells, and sounds every time he gives Eddie instructions in a soft yet firm voice.

When Eddie finally gets it right, Steve's praise sears itself into his brain, altering his brain chemistry irrevocably.

“See? You’ve got it!” Steve exclaims, his voice filled with genuine pride.

Eddie grins, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the stove. "All thanks to my amazing teacher."

Steve laughs, leaning in close. "I knew you had it in you."

Eddie can’t help but flirt back. "Guess you'll have to keep teaching me things, then."

Steve’s eyes sparkle with mischief. "Oh, I plan to."

They fall into an easy rhythm, working together in the kitchen, their movements synchronized as if they've been doing this for years. The cabin becomes their little sanctuary, where the outside world seems to fade away. It's easy to forget that this is all just part of their ruse because nothing about the way they act around each other feels fake.

One evening a few days later, they walk along the lake, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the water. Steve skips stones across the surface, watching the ripples spread outward, and Eddie is once again reminded of Steve's past as a high school jock. However, the thought doesn't bring up the old resentment. Instead, he feels a little jealous and a lot turned on by the competent way Steve masters things like flipping pancakes or skipping stones.

"You know," Steve says, breaking the comfortable silence, "this place is really special. I'm glad Wayne thought of it."

Eddie nods, admiring the way Steve's eyes reflect the fading light. "Yeah, it brings back a lot of good memories. When I first came to live with Wayne, I was angry all the time. At everyone. Mostly at myself, I guess. It probably wasn't easy for Wayne, the way I shut him out and acted like it was such a burden to live with him. He brought me here about a year after I moved in, and at first, I thought it was his way of punishing me for my bad behavior. Turns out, forced proximity helps you get over some stupid hang-ups pretty quickly. We've been here every year since, until I moved out at 20."

Steve listens to the story in silence. When Eddie’s done, he says, “I’m glad you had Wayne growing up.”

"Yeah, me too. The old man's got a big heart and he loves taking in strays. Before you know it, he'll be calling you ‘son’ and forcing you to watch baseball with him every season.”

“That sounds pretty awesome, actually.”

Eddie laughs. "It is. Though I have to warn you, he's a die-hard Cubs fan. There’s no escape from it."

Steve chuckles, tossing another stone. "Well, I’m a White Sox fan, so I’m sure we’ll have plenty to argue about."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "Oh, a White Sox fan? This is going to be interesting."

Steve grins. "Trust me, I can hold my own in a baseball debate."

Eddie smiles, feeling a warmth in his chest that has nothing to do with the setting sun. "You're a good guy, Steve."

Steve looks at him, eyes softening. "So are you, Eddie."

They share a quiet smile before continuing their walk, the air filled with the sounds of nature and the occasional splash of a fish jumping.

Eddie cannot remember the last time he felt so at peace with himself and the world.

Later that night, they find themselves sitting side by side on the bed, sharing a bowl of popcorn as they immerse themselves in yet another episode of Buffy. By now it has become part of their routine, all their days ending the same way. The first night, they had kept their distance, but the small screen and the growing familiarity between them soon made them sit closer and closer.

Now their backs rest comfortably against the headboard, their shoulders occasionally brush against each other, and their legs rest comfortably together under the blanket.

"I gotta say, Angel was always meant to be with Buffy," Steve suddenly supplies, apropos of nothing.

Eddie scoffs and turns to look at him in disbelief. "Oh, come on! Are you still stuck in the 90s? Spike was the one for her, no doubt about it."

They both reach for the popcorn bowl, their eyes never leaving the screen as Buffy and Angel dance together at Buffy's prom.

"But, Eddie," Steve insists, "Angel had depth. He understood Buffy's inner turmoil like no one else."

Eddie shakes his head, a smirk on his lips. "Depth? Please. Angel was brooding half the time, and when he wasn't, he was busy being melodramatic about his curse. Spike, on the other hand, embraced his vampiric nature and challenged Buffy in a way that Angel never did."

As the scene ends, Steve gestures to the screen. "But Angel had this epic love story with Buffy! They were soulmates, destined to be together."

"Soulmates, shmoulmates," Eddie retorts, leaning closer to the laptop. "Buffy needed someone who could stand toe-to-toe with her, someone who wasn't afraid to call her out on her nonsense. Spike did that and more."

Steve reaches for the beers on the floor next to him and hands a fresh one to Eddie, who gives him a grateful nudge with his shoulder before taking a sip.

"Yeah, but Angel was her first love. You can't deny the significance of that," Steve argues, taking a sip of his own beer.

The argument makes Eddie smile involuntarily because it's such a Steve thing to say. He's a romantic at heart, one who doesn't do a very good job of hiding it.

Eddie nods in agreement because he can see Steve's point, but then he remembers Steve's story about the first girl he loved and how the breakup left him pretty messed up. "First love doesn't always mean forever love, Steve. Buffy grew, she changed, and so did what she needed in a partner. Spike wasn't always what she wanted, but he was what she needed and I think deep down she knew that and it scared the hell outta her."

Steve looks at him with an unreadable expression and says, "Maybe you're right. I guess love is pretty scary."

Feeling like they're no longer talking about Buffy Summers, Eddie clears his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, it is," he agrees, reaching into the popcorn bowl just to have something to do.

Steve seems to have the same idea, because suddenly their fingers brush against each other as they reach for the same handful of popcorn.

The moment their fingers touch, it ignites a spark, an electric charge that leaves them frozen in the moment, their eyes meeting in the dim light cast by the laptop screen. The world seems to pause, time standing still as Eddie recalls the story Steve had told everyone. It had sounded like such a funny cover story to explain their sudden and unexpected marriage, but now Eddie doesn’t feel like laughing.

His heart hammers against his ribcage as he leans in closer, his gaze instinctively drawn to Steve's lips.

"Steve," he whispers, his voice a soft undertone barely audible against the background noise of the laptop.

"Yeah?" Steve's voice matches Eddie's in volume, his breath a warm whisper against Eddie's skin.

His heart still pounding, Eddie swallows, nerves and anticipation causing his voice to tremble. He knows what he wants this moment to mean, but once he acknowledges it, there's no going back.

Steve's courage must be rubbing off on him because he still asks the question that's been on his mind since their conversation in his apartment. "Do you... do you ever wonder what it would be like if this was real?"

Steve's eyes search Eddie's face, his own a complex mix of hope and uncertainty. Eddie feels like he's seconds away from a heart attack as he waits for Steve's answer. When it comes, Steve's voice is barely audible; Eddie reads it as much from his lips as he hears it.

"Every day."

Hearing Steve's answer, Eddie's breath hitches and he feels a tidal wave of emotions he can no longer suppress. "Me too."

Later, Eddie couldn't tell who leaned in first, and honestly, it doesn't matter because in that moment, it's clear they both want it. As soon as their lips meet, it feels like the universe has aligned and everything falls into place. The way Steve's lips feel against his is nothing short of divine, so maybe Eddie needs to rethink his stance on soul mates and destiny.

While the first press of lips is soft, even tentative, the kiss quickly deepens as they pour years of unspoken feelings into it.

When they finally pull away for air, they are both breathless. Eddie laughs softly, the sound a mixture of disbelief and pure joy.

"Just like your story, huh?" he whispers, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile.

Steve grins in return, his thumb gently tracing Eddie's cheek in an intimate gesture. "Yeah. Only this time it's real."

"It better be," Eddie says before leaning in to capture Steve's lips once more. They share another kiss, and then another, until the bowl of popcorn between them is forgotten and the laptop screen goes dark.

The next morning, they wake up tangled together under the sheets. Eddie’s head rests on Steve’s broad chest, their legs entwined and Eddie hugging Steve’s torso like a pillow. Steve’s left arm is wrapped around his waist while his right hand cards through Eddie’s hair, indicating he's awake.

Last night was real, is his first coherent thought.

When Eddie lifts his head, he feels Steve’s breath hitch and his arm around his waist tighten. The hand in his hair stops its gentle ministrations, and Eddie makes an involuntary noise of protest.

Steve laughs softly at him and continues. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?” Eddie half asks, half yawns.

“Almost noon. I was waiting for you to wake up because you were using me as your own personal teddy bear and I didn’t wanna wake you.”

Eddie feels his cheeks heat up and hastily tries to untangle himself from Steve, but is stopped by strong arms.

“I wasn’t complaining. In fact, I really like it. You’re cute like that, even when you’re drooling on my shirt.” The soft kiss to his forehead matches the fond tone of Steve’s voice.

Snuggling deeper into Steve’s embrace, he asks, “So yesterday…?”

“...has been something I wanted to do for a long time.”

It’s hard to believe, Steve wanting to kiss him for so long. Maybe for as long as Eddie has wanted to.

“Why didn’t you do it before yesterday then?”

He feels Steve shrug underneath him. “Figured you didn’t want me to. When I tried to flirt with you, get to know you, you made it pretty clear that you weren’t interested. So I stopped. Tried to act like I didn’t think about kissing you every time I saw you.”

This time, Eddie lifts his head to look down at Steve. “I am such a fucking idiot, Steve. You shouldn’t want to kiss me. When we first met I was so sure you were—” he pauses and Steve helpfully adds, “a rich asshole jock.” “Yeah. Took me a while to get over myself and realize you were nothing like that. When I did, it seemed like you already moved on. I was too scared to get rejected, especially because I would’ve deserved it. So I acted like I didn’t think about kissing you every time I saw you.”

Gazing into each other’s eyes, they both burst out laughing.

“God, we’re idiots,” Steve laughs, rubbing his nose against Eddie’s. Then, his eyes suddenly widen. “Max can never find out! I had to promise her that I wouldn’t let this turn into ‘one of those rom-com clichés where everything goes horribly wrong because no one just talked to each other.’”

The sound that leaves Eddie’s mouth is half laugh, half groan. “We shall never speak of this then.”

And just because he can, he steals another kiss from Steve before his face and tone turn sober.

“Only Chrissy and Birdie know about our idiocy. In a way, your story about how we got together is true, just the timeline is a bit different. How about we just come back and live the married life we’re supposed to?”

Wrapping his strong thighs around Eddie’s waist and bringing their groins together, Steve smiles up at him. “I’d love that,” he says, kissing Eddie. Deep and dirty and hungry.

They don’t leave the cabin for the rest of the day.

One afternoon a few days later, lying on a blanket by the lake, Eddie turns to Steve, propped up on one elbow. "What's next on the agenda when we get back home?"

Steve thinks for a moment, then smiles. "Honestly? I don't know. I just want to be with you. We'll figure the rest out as we go."

Eddie feels a warmth spreading through his chest. Still, he has to ask. "Who are you and what have you done to Steve?"

Tracing Eddie's slightly sunburned cheek with his finger, Steve laughs softly. "He just learned that good things can happen when you don't plan for them. Like falling in love and marrying that person before learning that they might even like you back."

"Love you back,' you mean," is all Eddie says. He presses a quick kiss to the soft skin of Steve's stomach before settling back down on the blanket.

As the sun sets, casting a warm glow over the water, they sit in comfortable silence, watching the world change colors.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddiesummerexchange #stranger things fanfiction #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #my writing

60 notes · View notes