#why have I only just noticed this is called a dip dab and not a dibdab?

[gnabnahc317cb97]

Makeup Time

Idol Bang Chan x makeup artist reader

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Strong language/swearing, mentions fake blood, suggestive

Chan walked into the little make up area they had set up for you in the building they were shooting his solo music video. It was just a corner of the dungeon-like set with a few dividers between you and the rest of the crew that were working on setting up props and cameras but it still kept the two of you tucked away from the bustle of the set.  

Most of the time you were being rushed to get eight faces of makeup done before call times, so the fact that you only had one face to worry about today meant you were actually able to relax and take your time. Also you wouldn’t complain about getting to stare at Chan’s pretty face longer than you normally would get to.  

You’d had always had a crush on Chan. From the start he always made you feel at ease and joked with you. He was always sweet, going out of his way to do little things for you like bring you a snack from the catering table when it was his turn in your chair, knowing you hadn’t stopped in between any of the other boys to eat. He was beautiful inside and out, how could you not be smitten by him?  

You always just dismissed the way he made you feel though because, I mean really, who didn’t have a crush on THE Bang Chan, right? You were just one of many, millions even. Why would he choose some average, every day, nobody makeup artist when he had numerous gorgeous women ready to throw themselves at him. Add to that you would immediately lose your job since you worked for the company. Chan dating an idol? Dicey but doable. Chan dating the staff? There was no way that would ever fly with JYP. 

So, you ignored those thoughts and buried yourself in your career. You showed up and did your hectic job to the best of your ability every day. Still, even the days you were in a mad rush to get everyone done you always managed to have nice conversations with Chan in the makeup chair. For some reason this time felt more intimate, not being rushed, just being the two of you there in that closed off area.  

Chan had noticed you from the day you started doing their makeup. You were the first person on set at a ridiculously early call time. You had been entirely set up and ready to get one of the kids in the chair as soon as they got there instead of them waiting around like they normally had to. You were dedicated to the company and your work and you were always so kind and patient with the kids, which wasn’t always easy which Chan knew better than anyone.  

Over time he noticed the two of you seemed to have quite a bit in common and when he saw how much you over worked yourself, like he had a tendency to do, he started to do little things like bring you a coffee and a bagel, a bottle of water and sandwich, just something to keep you going. Talking to you was always easy but rushed and he liked that this time he was able to fully focus his attention on you for once instead of a hundred different things he had to take care of for the kids.  

You had been working on Chan for about thirty minutes and had the base of his makeup completed. It was time to add the blood spatter effects for the particular scene they were getting ready to shoot. You dipped your finger into a dark sticky substance and went to dab it on his pouty bottom lip. Chan pulled back reluctant. 

“Wait a minute what are you putting on my lips?” He asked nervously laughing. 

“Can it get in my mouth?” You smiled rolling your eyes and nodded. 

“Of course it can Chan, it's edible makeup effects.” Chan cocked one of his perfect eyebrows and tilted his head like a confused puppy. 

“Edible?” He was so cute sometimes. You suddenly had butterflies in your stomach but you just laughed it off and leaned in a bit to dab it on. 

“It’s chocolate.” The look of surprise on his face was comical. 

“Nuh uh!” His tongue darted out as he licked what you had just applied to his lips and sure enough it was just chocolate. 

“Chan! You can’t lick it off! Its “blood” remember?” He giggled and you dipped your finger into the chocolate again. You leaned in closer focusing on his plump lips to dab the chocolate on again. You turned to grab the something and as soon as your back was turned Chan licked the chocolate off. When you spun back around to find his lips clean again you rolled your eyes. 

“CHAN! You have to leave it!” He gave you his thousand-watt smile that made his eyes disappear, flashing those dimples at you. You shook your head, dipped your finger in the chocolate and huffed this time as you leaned forward again staring at his oh so tempting lips to dab the chocolate back on.  

Was god trying to test your patience or something? Suddenly you were Sisyphus and dabbing chocolate on Chan’s pouty kissable lips the boulder you would push up hill for eternity. You sat up once the chocolate was in place to inspect your work for the third time. 

“Okay! Now DON’T lick it o-” Before you could even finish your sentence Chan’s tongue peeked out just enough to lick the chocolate off again. 

“CHAAAAAN!!!” You whined loudly. 

“Okay okay okay! I won’t lick it off again I promise.” He laughed. Chan was enjoying messing with you. He always thought you were so cute when you got flustered around him. To say that he was sweet on you would probably be a bit of an understatement. You arched your eyebrow at him defiantly. 

“Really, I swear! I won’t lick it off again, scouts honor!” You sighed and got more chocolate. You leaned in and focused, well tried to. Your eyes shifted from Chan’s lips to his eyes and you couldn’t help but notice the way he was looking at you, big boba eyes sparkling with his boyish charm. It gave you goosebumps and made your heart flutter. You felt hot all of a sudden. 

“I can’t concentrate when you look at me like that.” You said sternly and one corner of Chan’s mouth turned up in a smirk. 

“Like what?” He asked playfully. You sat up and the look you gave him was serious. 

“Chan you have to sit still and... just... don’t look at me like that.” Your tone was serious too but Chan was too busy trying to make you smile and failed pick up on it. He was always a little flirty with you, you knew that was just his personality but when it was only the two of you it was harder to just brush off and continue to do the task at hand and it made ignoring what you were beginning to realize was way more than a stupid little crush nearly impossible. 

“I’m sorry,” He gave you a sly smile. 

“I can’t help it. You’re just so pretty when you focus like that.” You rolled your eyes and leaned back in to apply the chocolate to his lips for the last time. 

“Please don’t say stupid things that you don’t mean to me.” You abruptly pressed your finger against his lip and pulled away. Chan gently grabbed your wrist stopping you, his brow furrowed in confusion. He realized now you were upset, he just wasn’t sure why. 

“Wait, what’s wrong?” You looked at his hand wrapped around your wrist. You touched him all the time, you had to in order to do his makeup, but Chan rarely, if ever, touched you and certainly never grabbed you. You snapped out of it and pulled away. 

“Nothing, just forget it.” Chan stopped you again this time his hand grasping yours. 

“Don’t do that, why are you upset? Why was what I said stupid?” You tried to pull your hand away again but Chan held on. 

“Chan let go, I don’t have time for this. I need to finish your makeup.” Chan shook his head. He didn’t care. 

“No. We’re making time. Tell me why what I said was stupid?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. You stared at your shoes. 

“Look I know it’s just in your nature to be this charismatic flirty guy wrapped in boyish charm so you just say things you don’t mean without thinking sometimes but...” Chan cut you off. 

“What do you mean ‘things I don’t mean’?” You sighed heavily wanting this mortifying interaction to be over. The happiness you felt about getting to spend a little more one on one time with Chan had morphed into utter embarrassment. 

“Chan, you see actual pretty women every day, okay? I live with my hair up in a mess wearing makeup covered jeans and t-shirts, I’m not delusional. Like I said, I know you’re just a flirt and you’re not trying to purposefully mess with my head...” Chan was so confused. 

“I’m not trying to mess with your head!” You nodded agreeing as you pulled your hand away. 

“Yea I know you aren’t trying to so just... save it for someone you’re actually interested in, alright? Someone with an actual chance.” You turned towards your makeup station and mindlessly started organizing your things. You felt Chan take a step towards you and wished he wouldn’t. The small space the two of you were in felt even smaller and you were struggling to keep it together. 

“I don’t get why you think you wouldn’t be someone I could actually be interested in?” You turned back around frustrated and finally looked him in the eyes. 

“Don’t be willfully obtuse Chan! You’re PERFECT! In every way and you have a sea of beautiful women to choose from, you could never want some plain old, bottom of the barrel, JYP employee?!” Chan looked shocked and hurt. 

“Is that how you think I see you? Because if so, I’ve done a real shit job expressing my respect and how much I admire you.” You stood there and shrugged your shoulders. 

“That’s what I am Chan...” You looked away again and he angrily shook his head. 

“No you aren’t! You’re so much more than just a JYP employee, let alone bottom of the barrel! Y/n you are an amazingly talented makeup artist, you are driven and dedicated to your career, the company and our team. You always put others before yourself even to your own detriment, you’re funny, smart, kind and you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Y/n you mean so much more than you realize.” Chan closed the little space left between you, he brought his hand up, cupping your cheek, making you turn your head to look at him. When Chan saw your glassy, tear rimmed eyes, he leaned in and pressed his impossibly soft lips against yours.  

His other hand found your waist and pulled you closer pressing his body against yours. You should have pulled away, you should have been freaking out, you should have been worried about your job, but you weren’t. Not for now at least, for now you were just a woman being kissed by the man of your dreams. Luckily out of pure instinct you managed to tilt your head and kiss Chan back. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, threading your fingers through the back of his hair. 

When he smoothly slid his tongue into your mouth you could taste the chocolate that you had just applied to his lips again. The kissing quickly started to become more frenzied and both of Chan’s hands found their way to your ass, gripping as he backed up you against your makeup station. 

He started kissing down your jaw and neck as you held back small moans of his name and breathless gasps. Chan tugged at the collar of your shirt trying to get access to more of you kissing and nipping at your shoulder and collar bone. He claimed your lips again, backing you into the station harder this time, and knocking some of your things to the floor causing a loud crash.  

You both stopped kissing and froze waiting to see if anyone would come see what the ruckus was. When nobody investigated Chan started kissing you again and you laughed trying to stop him between kisses. 

“Chan... Ch-Chan... oh my god! You need to stop!” He snickered against your lips and started kissing down your neck again as you pushed against his firm chest. 

“Seriously Chan!” You giggled. 

“You have to be on set in less than fifteen minutes and I have to fix your makeup... again!” You could feel his warm breath against your skin when he laughed but he continued his assault on your neck and shoulder as his hands roamed your body.   

“Bang Chan five minutes to set! Bang Chan five minutes to set!” You both jumped when you heard the set coordinator yelling out Chan’s call time. He unglued himself from you and backed off enough so you weren’t pinned against your station anymore.  

You both adjusted your clothes and hair and when Chan looked up at you he started giggling. There was a smudge of chocolate on the corner of your mouth. He reached up with his thumb and swiped it away before sticking it in his mouth and sucking the chocolate off. You turned quickly looking into the mirror to make sure there wasn’t any more on your face, wiping at it with a makeup remover just in case. 

“Sit down quick! I have to fix the blood on your face.” Chan smiled brightly as he sat down and you quickly put the chocolate blood spatters on his lips back in place. You shooed him from the makeup area as soon as you were done, pushing at his wide back to get him to go but he planted his feet and refused to be moved, then he turned facing you again. 

“Go out to dinner with me tonight.” You didn’t know why but you were shocked he’d just asked you that. You just stood there for a minute. 

“What?” Chan grabbed your hands and held them as he looked into your eyes. 

“Go to dinner with me tonight, a date. Please.” All the logistical issues you had tried ignoring earlier started flying through your head now and you let out a heavy sigh. 

“Chan... we can’t. I love and need my job. They would fire me in a heartbeat if they found out we were even kissing just now, let alone going on a date.” Chan wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you close to him again. 

“You really think that I would ever let them get away with doing that?” You pressed your lips together tightly. Chan did have pull in the company. If anyone could protect your job it would be him. You thought about it for a second and then nodded. 

“Okay, dinner tonight.” Chan smiled and leaned in to kiss you but you pressed your finger against his forehead stopping him. 

“Nuh uh. I’m not fixing this again. Now get your cute butt to set before we get busted.” You spun him around by his shoulders and started pushing at him again. He took heavy, lumbering steps dragging it out and just as you were about to push him out of the makeup area all together, he looked back at you and smirked. 

“So, you think I have a cute butt?” You rolled your eyes laughing, gave him one big shove out the entry and waved him off. 

“Goodbye Bang Chan! Always a pleasure working with you!” You called after him and he laughed as he walked off to go to set.   

@hityoulikebahng 😶‍🌫️

[taylor9736]

Hello!

Please can I request Newt being worried for and taking care of a Reader who is injured or has a fever (whichever you want)

I just care about you

A/N: I wasn’t sure what gender you wanted, so I just did gn. I hope that’s okay!

Warnings: none really just fluff.

As they dragged their feet towards the gardens, attempting to steady their breathing, Newt noticed from across the way. He had been watching Y/N more closely for a while now, though he wasn’t always sure why. Maybe it was their stubbornness or their resilience. But today, there was something off.

"Y/N!" Newt called out, jogging over. He eyed them carefully, noting the slight paleness of their face and the way they seemed to sway with every step. “You look like bloody klunk. Are you alright?”

"I'm fine," Y/N replied, their voice hoarse and raspy. They tried to shake off his concern, giving him a faint smile. “Just a little tired. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Newt frowned. “You sure? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

"I said I'm fine," Y/N snapped, though there wasn’t much bite in their tone. More exhaustion than anything.

Newt crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Fine? You can barely stand straight. You’re not working today.”

Y/N groaned. “Newt, come on. There’s a lot to do, and—”

“And you’ll be no help if you collapse halfway through the day,” Newt interrupted, his tone firm but softening as he gently placed a hand on their shoulder. “You’re sick. You need to rest.”

Y/N looked at him, seeing the genuine concern in his eyes. It made their stubbornness waver, but only for a second. “I can manage,” they whispered, though even to them it sounded weak.

Newt sighed, rolling his eyes but smiling faintly. "You're the most stubborn shank in the whole Glade, you know that?"

Y/N gave a small, tired chuckle, which turned into a cough that shook their whole body. Newt’s hand immediately steadied them, his eyes widening in alarm.

“Alright, that’s it,” Newt said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You’re coming with me.”

Before Y/N could protest, Newt wrapped an arm around their waist, gently guiding them towards the Homestead. Their face flushed, not from the fever but from the close proximity. They didn’t fight him, though. Not this time.

Once they reached the Homestead, Newt helped Y/N onto one of the beds. He knelt beside them, brushing a strand of their y/h/c hair from their sweaty forehead.

“I’m getting you some water and food. Don’t even think about moving,” Newt ordered, giving them a pointed look before leaving the room.

Y/N sighed, their stubbornness still flickering inside them, but the exhaustion was winning out. They rested their head against the pillow, their y/e/c eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

A few minutes later, Newt returned with a cup of water and a small bowl of broth. He sat on the edge of the bed, holding the cup to Y/N’s lips.

“Drink,” he said softly.

Y/N obeyed, taking small sips. When they finished, Newt set the cup down and dipped a cloth in cool water, gently pressing it to their forehead.

"You didn’t have to do this," Y/N murmured, their voice weak but grateful.

Newt smiled softly, his gaze warm and kind. “Course I did. Can’t have you pushing yourself until you collapse, can I?”

Y/N smiled faintly. “You’re too nice to me.”

Newt blushed at that, his cheeks turning a light pink. “I just care about you, alright?” he muttered, focusing on dabbing the cloth against their skin.

Y/N felt their heart skip a beat. “I care about you too, Newt.”

There was a moment of silence, filled only by the distant sounds of the Glade. Newt glanced at Y/N, his expression softening even more.

“Get some rest,” he whispered, brushing his thumb gently across their cheek. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Y/N’s eyelids grew heavier as the fever and exhaustion finally caught up with them. As they drifted off to sleep, they could still feel Newt’s hand resting gently on theirs, his presence comforting and steady.

[elmundodeflor]

“Wait…!”, words escape him before he can manage. Katara’s leaning over the river banks, looking as her reflection wavers on the rushing waters. “I mean…”, he scratches the back of his head, when he sees her turn around to take a glance at him, instead. “Are you sure you’re gonna go there alone…?”

She smiles; a small, fainted pull at her lips. Turns out, though, she’s not as surprised as she’d thought she’d be. After all, it’s no news to her; Zuko had always been a little awkward like this.

“Well…” she shrugs. It’s nice enough of a day to be here, out in nature. Sun bristles over the forest leaves, paints the grass with patches of golden and a yellowish-green. “Unless, you wanna come join me…?”

He hums it out. He’s not wearing his usual Fire-Lord attire, but a laid-back linen tunic that crosses his chest. Katara and him had decided on reuniting for summer, since they two had a few days off from both their political duties.

“Sure.”, he tells her, and he sits down by the shore, as well. She’s pretty when basked down in this soft light, he figures. The blue in her eyes dapples with specs of early sunset. The tiny freckles that dot over her cheeks pop up all the more. He doesn’t quite understand why she'd insisted on visiting this particular Fire-Nation village yet, but he isn’t about to complain on it just now. She must have been bored of freezing her ass out in the Southern Water Tribe, he assumes.

"So...", she's back to looking at herself. There's a paint-pot near the seams of her dress, and she dabs on it to take a dip. "How about we go grab a bite after this? I'm craving some noodle-soup!"

Zuko nods. Truth is, he's grateful for Katara; her unwavering company. He knows for a fact; she hates the spicy dishes that the Fire Nation has to offer. Yet here she is; all giggles and up and ready to take another chance on them, regardless. 

"I guess we'll manage.", he says, causing her smiles to only but grow. She's already traced the first streak upon her cheek; the birds chirping as she goes along. "'Tara", he calls her out, then, right when she's about to place a second one, there on the dimple on her chin. "You're doing it wrong, y'know."

That makes her frown big time. She's aware, the Painted Lady is a Fire Nation spirit, but still—

"Asshole!"

Zuko laughs; they both do. After all, he's sure Katara doesn't really mean it. She could be hot-headed, on occasion; fiery as the flames that once sprung up from his very hands, indeed. But she wasn't ill-intended, at last. He could see it in her eyes, dazzling everlasting teal. Could sense it in how her fingers touched her skin; careful, patient. Like there's no rush, and seconds and hours can lay suspended in the tender breeze.

"So now I'm the bad guy for telling the truth?!"

Katara pulls a face at him. His palms are in the air, as if to prove that he's always been this innocent, and she can't quite take him seriously.

"Come do it yourself, then.", she challenges; one eyebrow raised. It has always been like this with Zuko, she thinks; the push and pull, the constant bickering. He's odd and gets flustered easy, — and she'd studied him long enough to remember all the different ways she could push his buttons. “If you believe to be so wise, hm..."

He stays quiet, then scoots down close to her. The shadows from the treetops slice her features in a miscellaneous of greens and warm tones. Sun’s cast upon her hair, delicate and thin as a golden veil.

"O-Okay..."

Katara hands him over the paint-pot, and sits down as if to face him fully. There’s a certain glimmer on her expression as she does so, Zuko notices. Like the skin on her nose has turned the slightest pinch of rose.

“Okay.”, he repeats, more so to steady himself, and so he takes a drop of paint and draws a straight line on her forehead. Katara stays still, let’s him do whatever. She realizes, right as he touches her, how rough his palms have gotten. As if his years of struggle had somehow imprinted on every stripe and trace upon them.

She swallows hard. Zuko has a hand lifting her chin up, the other sliding down her face. She’s seen him become a man, little by little. Has been present when he had to make hard decisions, there at political meetings, — then drunk tea with him at Iroh’s, cracking up until their stomachs would hurt. It’s why it almost makes her shiver, the way he caresses her; so grown. Like it’s evident now, time has flown by, and they’re not those small kids who’re afraid of the world anymore.

“Close your eyes.”, he asks, almost in a drowned-out whisper, — then he takes more paint over from the pot. Katara might be a water bender, he knows this; but she’s as searing as stardust on a summer evening. Fierce as the washed-over sand on Ember Island. Her features are delicate, yet strong. Her skin’s earnest, and it’s speckled by cozy, tiny spots, — like a comet that flecks upon the broadest of night skies.

“Are you sure you’re not drawing me a beard or something?”, she says, just to poke fun at him. Zuko’s moving over to her brows now, covering each patch of lid with crimson red. He’s soft when sketching her up like this; it even shocks her a bit. When she imagined how his fingers on her cheeks would feel, she never thought they would be so caring. As if they were holding something precious, — something stitched with utmost fragility.

He laughs once more; a lovely, timid chuckle this time only.

“Pff, you’ll see…”, his index glides up over to her temples. Suddenly, he realizes that he’s never been so aware of how thick her lashes are, indeed. How long, and dark and curled-up they look from up closely. “I’m drawing you with a pair of glasses.”

Katara sticks out her tongue to him.

“You’re an idiot.”, she goes again. Zuko stays quiet, but smiles at her, regardless. Her skin’s gotten hot now, red and shiny as the paint that’s on his hands. And to him, that’s good enough for the time being, at least.

He bites his lip. Actually, though, the first time she’d told him about her being the Painted Lady, it had been a late night at the Palace. Katara was staying over for a couple weeks, since the Southern Water Tribe was peaceful, and so he had gone to her chambers like it was natural instinct for him to do. It was a warm, wet spring, he recalls, — the air was humid and smelt of rainfall and jasmines. For once, Katara was thrilled to change her furr coat for a silk pant and tops, just as much as he was thrilled to have her over.

“It’s a bit ironic, if you ask me.”, she’d said; her voice filled with something that sounded much quite like happiness. They were strolling their usual way through the gardens, like they would do when neither one could sleep. “We both dressed up as spirits from each other’s nations, right?”

Zuko had nodded. He wanted to believe that it was mere coincidence, or that maybe it was fate. A force stronger than the tides threading them together. As if they were always just meant to be pushed towards the other like that— with the helplessness of the ocean waves.

“Awe, so you knew I was the Blue Spirit all along?!”, he’d whined, making Katara laugh a little bit. He was aware, Aang had been sure of it, back then. He just didn’t think he’d ever tell the rest of the group, as well.

“Of course I did!”

He draws another line now, and then one more. Katara’s face is soft, he notices, round as the crescent moon— and it’s a thought that catches him off guard, all of a sudden, right as he goes along. His hands would fit every crevice, every bump and protuberance. Like they were made just for him to touch.

“´Tara…”, he calls her, at last, in a hush that’s barely audible. A brown lock has fallen over her forehead, and so he tucks it behind her ear. Strokes her cheek with the greatest care, almost as if she was made of glass. “You can open your eyes now.”

“So… you’re done?”, she stutters, blinking back into the midday-light. She can still feel his fingers on her skin, feather-light as a butterfly’s wings. Would recognize the gentleness of him were she blind, or deaf, or both. “We should get going, I guess.”

Zuko takes one last dip from the pot, then places his thumb upon her chin. He’d seen Katara grow into a woman, little by little, or all too fast, perhaps. Has thrown snowballs at her while on the South Pole, — chased her down the steep slopes; both screeching like two maniacs.

“Y-yeah, right, we should.”, he whispers, but Katara doesn’t really move. His fingers are now in the outlines of her lower lip, and— for the life of her—, she can’t think straight. Zuko is too close to her, almost a few hair breadths away. It’s up from this very distance, that she can see all of him; every detail, each pore, and scrap, and freckle for the first time. That she can appreciate the memories that were burnt upon his skin, the beautiful drops of amber that stipple up his eyes.

She holds her breath, just as he realizes he’s doing the same. That his hands are no longer steady, but have gotten shaky and damp with sweat, instead. If she wanted to, she could lean in and kiss him, sure enough, she figures. Could let him ruin the paint he’s just neatly put along her mouth and check how that would feel. Still, she knows this; it just wouldn’t be right.

“Zuko…”, she smiles. His name’s sweet upon her tongue. It’s smokey, and fierce and tastes like summer.

He smiles back at her, as his hand cups her cheek and lingers there for a while. Katara notices, almost right away, that this is different than when she was with Aang. With him, she’d never had her stomach full of butterflies— no, badgermoles— that would stomp and dig, dig, dig. Zuko, however, brings this other side of her. Like she’s raw, and wild, and untamable; fearless as seafoam going with the flow.

“Yeah.”, he tells her, and he pinches her nose in the cutest, most loving of ways. “That noodle-soup spot I know is gonna close up pretty soon.”

[litepowee]

ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴅᴜᴍʙᴀꜱꜱ

synopsis: Shion comes 'round to get patched up, but it seems he forgot what day it is today. (surprise it's his birthday!!)

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, gn!reader, self-indulgent

a/n: shion was actually my first blorbo ever so the biggest happy birthday to my mad dog <33

✧ comments/reblogs are super duper appreciated ✧

As the warm orange sun set behind him, Shion dragged his feet up the metal stairs leading to your apartment. It had become a routine after every gang fight to come back to you. Always welcoming him with a roll of your eyes, and a face mixed with annoyance and pain, but nonetheless you never hesitate to patch him up. 

Today was no different, as a cool March breeze swept through his blonde hair. Shion knocks on the door, hearing shuffling from within before a small click of a lock reveals you. A simple, but comfortable fit adorn with an apron tied around your waist. 

Your eyes quickly scan over Shion, and sigh, “Really? Weren’t you just beat up a couple of days ago?” He lets out a little chuckle pretending not to hear that as you step aside to let him in. 

“It ain’t nothing major. Just some scratches.” Shion calls over his shoulder as he slides his Tenjiku jacket off, laying it on the couch armrest. The comforting scent of fresh chocolate cake hits his senses, “You good? What’cha baking?” He calls out.

Being met with silence he considers going into your little corner of a kitchen to see, but after another second you break it, “Don’t come back here! M’ a mess, just getting stuff to clean up.” He complies without second thought, examining his hands which he notes are a little bloody and bruised even with the use of his brass knuckles. 

You pop out of the kitchen, no longer wearing the apron but carrying a little first aid kit. The couch dips down as you sit beside him, resting the kit on your lap. You met his gaze on his hands, before digging up some antiseptic spray, “Give me your hands.” Mumbling out as Shion extends out his hands. 

The difference between you two is night and day. 

Skillful and dainty hands work at his scuffed up bloody ones. Shion hisses as the antiseptic spray meets his cuts, “C’mon don’t be a baby.” Mumbling out, as you rummage around for some wrapping. “It stings y'know!” 

Your eyes scan over his hands, deeming them to be taken care of. Glancing up at him you notice a small cut and dried blood on his cheek, just edging below his tattoo. “How do you even manage…” Words trailing off as you dig around looking for something to clean the dried blood. 

Shion only humming in response, watching your focused eyes dart around. He can’t help but smile inwardly at how, even if you act annoyed with him, you never fail to take care of him after a gang fight. Though he would never dare to say that out loud, in fear of losing this.

In fear of losing you.

Losing you? It’s not like you're his to begin with. Just friends. So why would he be so worried about losing you? 

He’s brought out of his thoughts as he realizes how close you’ve gotten to his face. “Oi! Damn jumpscare.” Pulling back to put some space up, clicking your tongue in response. “Shion, just hold still, will you? I gotta get this stuff off you.” Leaning forward you raise a hand to his cheek, keeping him still as you dab a cotton ball against his cut. 

Still as a statue, he prays you won’t notice how much his face is heating up. Have your hands always been this soft? Did your eyes always look that pretty? Shion couldn’t help but stare, not even noticing the slight sting of the cut. It wasn’t until you smoothed the band-aid out on his cheek that he broke his stare on you.

“Honestly Shion. Weren’t you once the captain of a gang? How is it you’re always coming over beat up and bloody, huh?” Quietly talking as you pack up the kit, he can only chuckle at the recall of his time as the Black Dragons’ captain. 

Shion got lost in his thoughts of those times, not even noticing the lack of your presence. But even if he isn’t captain anymore, things are better. He’s got you. He’s got Tenjiku. Being a ‘Heavenly King’ sounds a lot cooler than ‘Captain’, doesn’t it? 

The only thing that draws his attention out of his thoughts is the click of a lighter. Since when did you start smoking? As he opens his mouth to question it, his words stop, caught in his throat. 

You carefully walked over to the couch, a plate balanced in your hands. A single cupcake with a fondant crown placed on top, holds a lit candle. “Do you even know what day it is dumbass?” Shion’s eyes dart from you to the cupcake and back. 

“What..day it is?” He mumbles out unconsciously trying to put the pieces together. Cracking a smile as you look at Shion who’s still trying to figure out the date. 

“Happy birthday Shion, make a wish.” 

extra:

You: What did you wish for? 

Shion: Dumbass I can’t tell you! Don’t you know how this shit works?! 

Shion in his mind: for you to be my partner duh?? 

✧ comments/reblogs are super duper appreciated ✧

tags: @tokyometronetwork @public-safety-network

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[salty-lemon-shark-from-the-sea]

Maya and the three (Chimi x Painter Reader)

(Plotanic or Romantic)

Looking down at your map you let out another groan. “Where is it?” you whisper to yourself. Rolling the map back up you place it in your bag before setting it on the ground. Sliding down the side of a tree you close your eyes to rest under it’s shade.

Snap

The sound of a twig snapping and awoke you up in time as it hits your head. Looking up you catch a glimpse of a human leg. “Oh, hey!” you call out standing up to try and find the human. “Can you help me?” you ask grabbing your map. “I'm looking for the Jungle Lands,” you explain. After a while of standing there looking like an idiot you turn getting ready to head on your way.

Turning around you were meet face to face with a girl who had pale skin and red eyes. Taking a step back she takes one forward and sniffs you. “Hello,” you say sticking your hand out. Sniffing your hand the girl leaves and crawls towards your bag seeing all of the sealed pots and what little food you had left.

“Hey that's my stuff!” you exclaim rushing over and gabbing your bag careful to not break anything in it. “Why do you have so many pots?” the girl asks reaching towards one. “It's paint,” you answer short to the point. “What's with so much paint?” “What's with all the questions?” you retort. Now holding eye contact neither of you back down. “I'm (Reader) by the way,” you introduce yourself.

Looking you up and down the girl stands to her full height. “ I’m (insert animal noise),” she answers, but after seeing your confused look she quickly says her name is Chimi blushing a bit. “What a nice name,” you say. “And such beautiful skin,” you comment walking around her.

“What?” she asked irritated. “Sorry it's not like I'm going to steal your skin or anything!” you explain waving your hands before going to your back and grabbing a pot. “It's just such a pretty pale color, and I've worked on a lot of skin before with different colors and textures. All beautiful in their own way, but yours is unique,” you ramble. “May I paint on it?” you ask now turned towards her.

You could see a faint blush on her cheeks as she looked at you with wide eyes. “Oh I'm sorry I was rambling I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable!” you quickly explain placing the pot back down. “You like my skin?” Chimi ask. “Yes, who wouldn't,” “My village they think of a monster, El Monster Blanco, to be exact,” she explained. “Where are you from?” you asked worried of the answer.

“The Jungle Lands,” Chimi replies. A silence falls over you two as you both stand under the tree. “My offer still stands,” you say. Looking at you carefully Chimi moves to sit on a nearby stone. “Okay,” she answers. “Really?” you ask as you grab different pots from your bag and set them next to you. “Yes,” she answers watching you as you move around grabbing brushes.

“Yeah is there anything you want in particular?” you ask holding a brush. “Lady Micte,” Chimi say closing her eyes waiting for you to start. “It might be a bit cold,” you warn dabbing your brush in black paint. Chills were sent up Chimi spine as your brush touches her face. “I warned you,” you laugh a bit trying to keep a steady hand causing her to laugh quietly too.

“If you don't mind. May I ask why you want to look like Lady Micte?” you ask. “When I was born my mother died and I wish to see her again, the only way for that is through Lady Micte,” Chimi explains. “Wow, but who do you live with now,” you say dipping your figures in different colors before poking Chimi in the face causing her to bat at your hand. “The forest animals,” she says. Looking around you take notice of different animals hiding in the bushes watching you. After a while of just being in a comfortable silence you pull back looking at your work.

“Done!” you explain proud of your work. Rushing you your bag while almost tripping on a pot of teal paint you grab a mini mirror you have. “How do you like it?” you ask holding the mirror out for Chimi to take and see her new face paint. “Wow,” she whispers imprisoned by how the flower petals look so real and the gold detail. “It's amazing,” she answers look I at the bones in her arms and legs.

“Wonderful I'm sure the Jungle Land Queen with be proud of my work then,” you say putting the pots and brushes back in your bag. “Do you just travel and paint faces?” Chimi ask. “Pretty much I started out small, but after my sibling pushed me to show off my work I've started traveling and painting, not just faces but portraits, for people. In return they give me food and sometimes a place to sleep,” you explain throwing your bag back on your shoulders.

“Now I must be on my way, but it was nice knowing you Chimi and truly I do find your complexion to be one of the prettiest I've ever seen,” you say bowing down. “I-i can take you to the jungle lands,” Chimi says. “Really?” you ask standing back up. “Just wait here,” she orders jumping into the tree grabbing a bow and some arrows.

●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●

The two of you now stand on the outskirts of the village hidden in the shadows. “Thank you Chimi,” you say turning towards the girl. “No problem,” she answers turning to leave. “Wait!” you call out rushing to her sides. “Here,” you say handing her a pot of purple and another gold. “As a thank you gift. It's not much, but to a painter, these are some of the hardest colors to get,” you say.

“Don't you need them?” Chimi asks looking down at the pots. “Nah I have spare and the recipe on how to make more,” you explain waving your hand dismissively. “Thank you,” She says holding the paints closer. “Of course, and hey I promise to visit when I get the chance,” you say turning to leave. “See yay!” you call out as you leave heading into the village. “Bye,” Chimi quietly says waving her hand as Monkey slides down next to her. “Maybe not all humans are bad,” Chimi says turning to leave before anyone sees her.

[raidenssblog]

First kiss

Pairing: sanemi X gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: scars, slightly perve sanemi for a bit. !!!FEM BODY!!!

Summary: y'alls first kiss/confession

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Walking back to your estate, sanemi sighs in relief when the building comes into view. Slightly speeding up he quickly makes his way into your garden than to your front door.

Knocking on the door he (almost) waited patiently for you to answer. Knocking agian, he heard your quick footsteps closing in.

Sliding the door open your met with a bruised and battered sanemi. Blood trickled down his forehead and a large cut on his chest.

'why did he come here?' you wondered while moving out of the way.

"please, come in I'll fix you up" you commented walking into the other room. He made his way in and closed the door behind him. You took notice that he took his sword off and placed it neatly near the door way, almost like he was saying he's not a threat.

Walking through to the other room he looked around. Two neatly made beds were on the far side of the room. A large window was in-between the beds letting the afternoon air in.

Sitting down in one of the beds, he let you take his haori and shirt off to examine his upper body.

When you turned away sanemis face heated up, he didn't know why but he felt, tingly.

"I'm gonna have to stitch you up, I'll also try my hardest to make sure they don't get infected." You said while opening a small chest full of supplies.

"yeah, I think it'll be right tho" sanemi said while focused on your every move. Your skirt was tight enough for him to see the imprint of your hip dips, the soft skin of your thigh and the curve of your ass.

His eyes trailed upwards to your chest, the way your shirt matched your skirts tightness, yet was still lose enough for them to bounce and moving. "God I wish I could just-"

"sanemi?" You called bending infrount of him. He's been quite, too quiet for the sanemi.

He's been acting odd around you lately, more or less avoiding you. You were upset seems that you did like the man but you never got to see him.

"alrighty, I'll start with your head and stitch your chest up last" you say, mixing the disinfectant around in the water before dabbing it onto the wound.

You gently bandaged his head before pulling away to start on his chest. Repeating your previous steps, you disinfect the deep cut and prepare to stitch it up.

Threading the needle you push the flesh together and sow your way up the wound.

Every now and agian you hit a tender spot which make sanemi flinch back and let out a hiss. Once your finish you dress the wound and wrap his torso in white bandages.

"Ok your all set" you said before cleaning up the mess. Standing up, sanemi walks towards the door only to stop at the sound of your voice.

"wait sanemi, I need to talk to you about something if that's ok" you placed the last thing in its spot before facing him.

He's turned around but not looking at you. Breathing deeply you up your courage to tell him.

"well, um, sanemi I just wanted to say that I really like you, and not in a friend way. I had these feelings for quite a while now and you weren't talking to me so I just-" you were quickly cut off by a pair of lips.

Shocked, you slowly eased into it. The feeling of his rough lips on you soft one, one hand on your hip while the other cradles or face so gently.

Pulling away, sanemi rests his forehead on your before talking. "Me too, i'm- I'm sorry I ignored you, I just thought it was for the best" he said while filly pulling away.

Smiling you wrapped your arms around the hashira, who, for the first time, blushed.

He was fucked

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Bro work is so slow I'm super sorry, this bitch has been in my drafts for ages and I needed to finish it lol

-Raiden

[wishiwasdead-poetssociety]

relapses happen // remus lupin x reader

tw: self harm, blood, etc.

for some reason writing depressing shit keeps my mind off my own shit, and I know i myself always find comfort in these fics. my dms are open and regularly checked if you ever need to talk. <3

You winced as you wrapped your forearms with toilet paper. Usually you were more prepared, stocked with first aid materials to be ready for any dip, but you swore you were over this. You were older now, but this little habit of yours never seemed to let go of you. Sometimes it would be months, nearly half a year, but you always came back to it. Allowing the blade to do all the feeling for you. To punish yourself for being such a burden. The guilt consumed you, and tears threatened to spill. You were in your boyfriend, Remus’ apartment locked in the bathroom connected to the room you two shared. Next to you sat his broken shaver. You promised him that you could be trusted with it in the bathroom. Clearly you overestimated yourself.

“Y/n! I’m home!” His voice echoed throughout the dark house. You could hear his pace quicken when he didn't find you sitting on the couch waiting for him like usual. You hadn’t left your room, and never got around to turning any of the lights on out there.

“Are you sleeping already?” He giggled walking into the bedroom, but he fell silent when he caught sight of an empty bed and a closed bathroom door. “Y/n?” he called out again.

You tried to open your mouth to answer but all that came out was a strangled sob.

“Y/n. Open this door.” Remus said firmly, but you could hear his voice shaking. You just continued to let out choked sobs, you couldn't say anything.

He’ll be so angry, so disappointed. He’ll leave you.

“Alohomora,” he spoke quietly and the lock clicked on command.

You heard him gasp as he took in the sight in front of him.

“Oh darling,” he mumbled, kneeling in front of you. He gingerly removed the blade from your strong grip, and threw it aside angrily. You flinched at his aggression which he seemed to notice. “I’m sorry darling, I’m not angry with you.”

You were confused, but sat quietly as he tended to you. He shook his head taking in your makeshift bandages. Summoning a first aid kid, he quickly got to work removing the toilet paper. If it weren't for his light sniffles you wouldn’t have noticed the tears in his eyes as he removed the bloody tissue. He hadn't actually seen the extent of the situation till now. It was nearly impossible to make out the amount of cuts, as blood covered most of the skin on your forearm. He wet the hand towel beside him and lightly dabbed it onto your skin. Opening the bag beside him he removed a bag of cotton balls and disinfectant, quickly getting to work on applying it to your skin. Once that was completed quite thoroughly, he gently wrapped up your forearm in papery, white gauze. He only looked up once he completely finished the process and put his hand to your chin so that your eyes met his. You could feel his hand shake on your chin.

“I love you beautiful, nothing could ever change that,” Remus said while looking into your (y/c) eyes sadly.

He helped you up and guided you to the bedroom where he sat you down at the edge of the bed. Remus turned around and rummaged through the top drawer of your shared dresser and retrieved a crewneck sweater. He helped remove the blood covered shirt you were wearing and you lifted your arms so that the crewneck went on smoothly.

You slid your body under the covers of your bed and felt the bed next to you sink down ever so slightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked hesitantly, and you shook your head.

“Why aren’t you angry with me?” you mumbled. He looked at you sadly.

“I could never be mad at you Y/n. Besides, this is not your fault, not at all. Recovery is not a straight line. I just wish I could have done something,” he trailed off.

“You can hold me?” a light parody of a smile crossed your lips and Remus smiled back, his pale eyes lighting up. He pulled you close to him and up onto his chest.

“I love you Y/n,” he murmured “Nothing can ever change that, please believe me.”

You smiled into his warm chest. “I love you more Remus,” his rhythmic heartbeat lulling you to sleep as you spoke.

That’s impossible.

You heard before you left sleep engulf you, taking away the weight of the day.

Once you were sound asleep, Remus wriggled his way out of your soft grip and headed to the bathroom. He muttered a quick cleansing spell on the floor and countertops before continuing. He grabbed his razor, cursing to himself for never getting used to shaving the magical way. He banished the razor along with all the replacement blades. Just to be cautious he checked the rest of the house for anything else he deemed to not be productive in your recovery and banished them as well before heading off to bed himself.

For a moment he simply laid next to you, admiring the way your eyes fluttered and your chest rose and fell.

“Goodnight my beautiful and strong Y/n. I love you more than words can describe,”

Before drifting off he swore he saw you smile softly in your sleep.

[beloved-child-of-the-house]

"I know you're watching me," Harry called out from their tiny bathroom, casually nude with moisture still sparkling in his hair from the shower he'd just finished. He hadn't put his glasses back on yet, and Draco still found it secretly rather thrilling to see Harry without them.

Draco, lying belly down on their bed, chin in hand, was indeed watching Harry avidly, "You wish, Potter."

"There must be something else really interesting in that mirror then," Harry indicated the mirror across from him with his chin, smiling and bouncing his eyebrows at Draco's reflection. He had a small pot of something white that he was dipping into and bringing his fingers away shining. He'd first smoothed his thick, black eyebrows and now was burnishing his tattoo.

Draco tossed his head, not deigning to reply. Then nonchalantly, "That smells good, whatever you've got there. What kind of potion is that?"

Harry's smile broadened, "It's called coconut oil." He smoothed a few more drops over the green and golden dragon tattooed on his left forearm so that it gleamed as it flexed its tail and bared its fangs, "It's not any more magical than most things are."

Draco watched Harry continue to apply the coconut oil to the dense, black coils of his hair, his elbows, to his legs, his pink heels, a tiny dab to his lips, til he was glowing brown and fragrant, and Draco was dying to get his hands on Harry and see if the stuff had left him as soft to the touch as he looked.

Draco hopped down from their bed and crossed the little room to bury his nose against Harry's velvety neck, "Mmm, you smell even better from here." He kissed Harry's jaw, smoothed a hand over his bare hip.

"I know what you're thinking, but I've only just barely got clean," Harry reminded him. "I'm not even finished yet, and you're thinking about getting me all messy again."

"You've come so far already." Draco dropped another kiss on Harry's jaw, "Compared with how dusty and sweaty and cobwebby you were when you got into the shower, you could hardly be cleaner." He added in a playful semblance of his old drawl, "Though obviously, it pains me to differ with you, Potter."

Harry laughed, "Yeah, I noticed you somehow didn't get nearly as dirty as I did in the moving house process. Can't think why." He kissed Draco's cheek, then sidestepped slightly to pick up his toothbrush.

Draco understood that he was being delicately put off, but he didn't mind. They'd be together every night now. He had all the time in the world.

He went back to the bed and flopped onto it dramatically, luxuriating in the freshness of their fluffy new bedding, "You can't think why? Sheer skill. It can't be taught, I'm afraid. I was born this good."

Harry laughed around his toothbrush, then grimaced at the mist of toothpaste spattered on the mirror, still laughing.

"Giddy," said Draco, but the laughter was catching, and he found himself giggling along with Harry. Anyway he knew their chorused elation wasn't because of his joke. It was because they were home.

He laughed happily at Harry and at himself. In a moment, Harry would be through in the bathroom. And in the moment after that, he'd be in Draco's arms. It had been a long time coming, but he didn't have to think of the long shadows cast behind them. At the present, it seemed like the easiest thing in the world.

[archivefullofyoutubers]

[silkenstarlight]

body is a temple

Summary: Bucky and reader are training when she finds him staring at her ass. She tries to rile him up, but quickly learns that he doesn’t tolerate teasing.

Pairing: Personal trainer!Bucky x reader

Warning/s (18+ only, minors dni): enemies to lovers, dirty talk, degradation, spanking, multiple orgasms

Word count: 2.8k

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Author’s note: i wrote this while wine-drunk, so if it’s extra horny, you know why

“Fuck!”

You tumbled onto the mat, back slamming against cool polyethylene. The breath whooshed from your body in a dramatic, crushing exhale, your lungs desperately trying to pull in air but failing beyond shallow, raspy puffs. Bucky looked down at you, the fluorescent lights of the gym feathering behind his head in a blinding halo, smirking as he drank in the image of you sprawled on the mat below him, completely at his mercy. He let you lie there for one, two, three seconds, before holding out his hand for you to grab onto. It was a kind gesture, something that completely contrasted with his previous rough treatment. You squinted and firmly grasped his hand, feeling your back leave the mat as he propped you upright again.

“Is that the best that you can do, (Y/N)?” He stepped back, walking to the edge of the mat and retrieving your water bottle for you.

You huffed, raspy breathing slowly returning to normal. “Is this really necessary?”

He handed you your water bottle, frowning. “Of course it’s necessary.”

“I was told that you would be my personal trainer. Nowhere in the program description did it say that you were going to beat my ass all day,” you shook your head, slightly incredulous, and took a few grateful gulps from the water bottle. You felt more comfortable talking back to him because you were the last ones left in the gym today, with no one but him to overhear your complaining. You had expected some light cardio, maybe some weight training, when you had signed up for individual sessions with a personal trainer at your new gym. You didn’t think you would be paired right away with Bucky, who seemed to exclusively work with experienced heavy lifters, and you definitely didn’t think he would take it upon himself to teach you self-defense, a skill which he was surprisingly extremely well-versed in. Every day for the past week, you had ended up in a similar supine position on the mat, beaten and scrambling for air, accumulating a mottled collection of nasty bruises and scrapes on your knees and elbows. The most frustrating part was that he remained unscathed through it all. Every time, it was you on your ass, and him helping you up. It made you want to scream.

Well, that actually wasn’t the only thing about this whole situation that made you want to scream. He was incredibly good-looking, exactly your type, all brooding looks and dark eyes. You actually had to pick your jaw up off of the floor when he walked in to your first session last week. But, the worst part was, he was a cocky bastard. He had to know the effect he had on you, and yet, he chose to do nothing about it.

“Well, you’ll just have to do better if you want me to stop crushin’ you every time.” He dabbed at his forehead with the hem of his shirt, and even though he frustrated you to no end, it took everything you had in you not to let your eyes drift down to look at his toned stomach.

“Now I think you’re just trying to make me mad.” You huffed, walking to the edge of the mat and returning your water bottle to its perch, preparing for another round.

“Well, if I’m pissing you off, why don’t you use that anger? Beat me. Just once,” he smirked, as if firmly believing that you couldn’t, that you didn’t have it in you. But, you were just stubborn enough to take the challenge.

“Fine.” You cocked your head and gritted your teeth, digging your heels into the mat and crouching in a ready position. 

“3… 2… 1… start.” The ghost of a smirk still graced his face, but he was concentrating on your movements now, eyes darting as you approached.

Jab, cross, jab. Knee, high kick, and--

“Damn you, Barnes.” 

One quick sweep, and he had you pinned. You wanted to scream, to thrash in frustration, but his body pressing against your back limited any movement on your part. Wonder if he likes having me pinned like this. You tried not to let that thought develop further, lest the heat you had worked up from sparring travelled up your neck for him to see, or worse, somewhere farther south--

“Why are you still panting, (Y/N)?” You could feel a puff of hot breath against your ear as he chuckled.

Fuck. “My, uh… my asthma must be acting up again.” 

“Didn’t think you had asthma.” He flipped off of you, arching a brow as you slowly stood.

“Forgot to tell you, then,” you fibbed, trying at all costs to avoid spilling the truth, that your panting was the effect of an illicit fantasy that you had thought about in bed, alone, on more than one occasion.

“Uh huh,” he said, unconvinced. You both got into a ready position again.

“3… 2… 1… start.”

This time, you took more of a defensive strategy, evaluating him before striking. Maybe, if you weren’t so focused on completing the flourishing movements, on hitting with perfect precision and strength, you could anticipate his attack instead. You circled around each other like sharks, his eyes glinting almost hungrily, but doing nothing to bely his next move. It was like trying to size up a brick wall.

Suddenly, he darted forward with a speed that no man his size should have, and he swept your legs from under you, flipping you with ease. You fell ungracefully in a prone position, cheek smacking the mat, eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. You groaned, aching muscles begging for you to stop and rest instead of getting up and accepting his challenge. You pressed your forehead into the mat, weighing whether it was worth the hassle of asking him to cut your session short today, when you noticed that he was completely silent.

You furrowed your brows, eyes flying open. Every time he had defeated you in previous rounds, he had uttered some sarcastic, infuriating quip, trying to rub in his victory even more. But he hadn’t said anything yet.

You pushed your chest up off the mat, craning your neck to look back at him. He was obviously looking at your body, eyes transfixed on your lower half, but when he sensed your sudden movement, he broke out of his trance. He quickly got up from his kneeling position, clearing his throat and walking to the water jug on the far wall. A smile slowly grew on your face as you realized that he had been staring at your ass.

You stood up, slowly walking toward him, assessing him with a sly expression on your face. “Were-- were you doing what I think you were doing just then?”

His back was to you as he filled a little paper cup with water. “If you mean pummelling your sorry ass into the mat yet again, then yes.” His voice still carried its usual snarky tone, but it shook slightly, as if he were just caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Not exactly what I meant.” You stepped closer until a foot separated you, and he turned around to face you.

“Then what do you mean, doll?” He smiled smugly, but you noticed the pink blush that was creeping its way up his neck.

You hummed a laugh. “What I mean, Barnes,” you cocked your head, relishing how your sudden onset confidence wiped the smirk from his face, “is that you were enjoying the view back there. Isn’t that right?”

Now it was his turn to huff a laugh. “Well, what can I say? You’ve got a nice ass. Gotta get something out of these sparring sessions.”

You scoffed. “Fucking pervert.”

“Call me that again.” His tone was more serious, suddenly bereft of the saccharine sarcasm you were so used to.

You paused, weighing his tone against the risqué direction the conversation was heading, and you smirked, deciding to provoke him further. “You’re a fucking pervert. Beatin’ girls up, just so you have a chance to get a good, long look at their bodies. What the fuck is up with that? Can’t get some like a normal person, can you?”

He let that sink in, head dipped, eyebrows raised. But then, a thought seemed to cross his mind, and a wicked smile crept onto his face. He looked at you with hooded eyes, and your stomach flipped, unsure if you were extremely turned on by your sudden proximity to him, or if you were preparing to balk.

“You’re going to regret saying that.” His voice was low, rasping with something you’ve never heard from him. Your mind was telling you to back up, to leave this encounter before it got messy, but your feet stayed rooted in position as he bridged the gap between your bodies. He grabbed your shoulders and turned you around before pinning you roughly against the wall.

“You know,” he said, breath hot against your ear, “you really shouldn’t be calling me a perv, when I know exactly what goes on in that head of yours during our training.”

“Wh- what do you mean?” You decided to play dumb, hoping that he wasn’t astute enough to deduce your secret, licentious desires.

“Oh, you know. Whenever I pin you, you’re always blushing.” He laughed mockingly. “It’s cute. It’s like you secretly want to be dominated.”

You huffed a breath as his hands traveled down your waist, before settling gently on your hips. His lips dragged across the shell of your ear and down your neck, pressing against your pulse point. You arched your back, grinding against the hard bulge that was forming in his shorts.

“Is that right, (Y/N)? You want me to pin you down and fuck you dumb?” He mumbled against your neck.

A wanton moan tumbled from your lips in response, but it wasn’t good enough for him. His fingers dug harshly into your hips. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, p-please.” You hated how breathy your voice was, but you were too overtaken by desire to care whether he was just doing this to get a reaction from you.

“Please what?” You could feel his mouth curl into a smile as he reattached his lips to your neck, sucking lightly.

“Please, please, please, fuck me, Bucky.” Another moan slipped from your mouth.

“That’s better, baby.” His fingers relaxed against your hips, tracing upwards to the hem of your leggings. He tugged them down with your underwear so that they settled just below your ass, and he pulled back slightly to look at your bare backside.

“Goddamn,” he said, voice gravelly and low. He squeezed one cheek with his hand, kneading it slightly before letting it go and slapping it. “Been dreaming of this ass. It’s just as good as I imagined.”

You gasped, giggling. “So, I was right.”

“Right about what?” He asked, pulling down his shorts and freeing his cock before pressing it against your backside, hot length already dripping with precum.

“You’re a fucking perv, Bucky Barnes.” You smiled coquettishly.

He stilled behind you, and you could feel his glare burning a hole through the back of your neck. You kept smiling anyways-- this was the exact reaction you had hoped for.

He guided the tip of his member down to your slit, dragging it from your perineum to your clit and back again to gather your wetness, before completely sheathing himself inside of you in one motion. You moaned loudly in response to the harsh intrusion, body struggling to accommodate his size.

“Thought you learned not to call me that,” he said, voice level, unbothered by the fact that you were throbbing around him.

“Guess I n-never learn.” Your voice was barely a whisper as he began to move, slowly thrusting to allow your body a chance to adapt to the thrilling ache of being so completely full. It was a harsh sensation, but it felt good, each stroke dragging pleasantly against your tight walls.

“Oh, you’ll learn.” His left hand travelled up your body, drawing under your shirt and flipping the band of your sports bra up. Your breasts bounced free, full and heavy. “Let’s see those pretty little tits, huh?”

He pinched one nipple, rolling its rosy, peaked bud between his cool metal fingers and making you squeal in delight. You ground back against him, encouraging him to move faster inside of you.

“You like that?” He switched to the other nipple, kneading your breast gently in his hand, and you arched into the motion. “That feel good?”

You bit your lip and shook your head, trying to swallow your moans, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing you fall apart so quickly and completely at his hands. “N-no.”

“You know,” he said, driving into you harder and harder with each thrust, but remaining frustratingly unperturbed and casual, “you don’t have to lie to me. I feel how drenched you are. You can admit how good it feels, baby.” His feigned affectionate tone, paired with the way that the tip of his cock was starting to brush against your g-spot, made you cry out. His permission to let go just made you want to disobey him even more, but the pleasure was slowly overtaking your body, overriding your sense of shame. You rocked on your heels, trying to take back some semblance of control, but when his left hand dragged from your breast to your neck, squeezing slightly, you were a goner. You shattered around him, your muscles fluttering around him and coaxing a gruff moan from his throat. But, he kept his focus, fucking you through your orgasm and watching your face as he did, your eyes scrunched shut and your lips dropped open in a soft “o.” He let go of your throat and you gasped. 

As the waves of your orgasm subsided, he refused to slow down, his unrelenting pace repeatedly hitting your deepest point. You could feel him grinning stupidly at you, proud that he had already coaxed an orgasm out of you despite not cumming yet himself.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, your body limp against his. Though your first orgasm had abated, you quickly felt tension building again inside of you.

“Not so cocky now, are you, (Y/N)?” He said between heavy breaths. You knew he was close, just by the sound, but you also knew that he wouldn’t leave this room without teasing another orgasm from your body. “So docile once I put my dick in you.” He panted, laughing at the way you mewled and gasped around him.

His hand drifted down to where your bodies met, finding your clit in the slippery mess of your combined arousal. He pressed his fingers against it in erratic little circles, your body keening for him, completely at his mercy. 

“Look at that, makin’ you gush around me again,” he said, almost to himself, reveling in your neediness. “Looks like I win at this, too.” And, with that, you were done for.

Your muscles squeezed around him in a sweet, warm vice, and he groaned at the sensation of you cumming around him a second time. You mewled pathetically, body spent with unabashed pleasure. He followed closely behind you, losing himself inside of you and spilling his arousal in hot, vulgar stripes. His head was thrown back, claiming your body as his in sweet, silent throes. Once his hips finally stilled, his body slumped against yours, completely and utterly spent. You stayed like that for a moment, leaning up against the wall, the battle between you clearly over. And then, he grasped your hips, his cock slipping out of you with a vulgar sucking sound.

You bent down, pulling up your pants, when you heard him clear his throat. You looked back, reaching underneath your shirt to pull your sports bra back down over your tits, when he chuckled. You arched a brow, but he just shook his head slightly. “That was… much more fun than beating you up.”

You frowned slightly, but when you saw his goofy smile and suddenly relaxed demeanor, you couldn’t help but mirror his expression. “Does that mean that we get to do that, instead of my training?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” he said sternly, crossing his arms but smiling slyly nonetheless. “But, we can do it outside of training. As long as I get to take you to dinner first,” he added quickly, his voice almost shy as he averted your gaze.

You smiled, laughing, and he looked up, expression nervous. Now, you shook your head. “Considering how good you just fucked me, I should be the one buying you dinner.”

He smirked, grabbing your water bottle and handing it to you, his fingers brushing against yours. “Now, that’s an offer that I can’t refuse.”

[ktheist]

girls like you [don’t] run ‘round with guys like me | m

characters. popular!reader x shy!jimin

genre. college au. rich kids au. fwb au. eventual ceo au. eventual racer au.

words. 4k

warnings. 18+

note. this is a repost. tumblr messed up my exposure last time. this fic didn’t show up in search and it’s probably a third post of mine that ends up like this. this one probably won’t either but posting bc someone might see it and like it.

x

It’s easy to tell when Park Jimin is in love.

Unlike Kim Seokjin, his eccentric, dad joke-loving friend, Jimin would only wear the pastel pink when he’s feeling giggly and shy and mushy inside.

The source of said feelings being either the barista he goes to get his daily dose of coffee from, or the girl at the library he studies at during finals or well, right now it’s the girl he’s fucking almost every day of the week - you.

“What are you doing?” Seokjin looks at him like he just dumped a spoonful of salt in a broth that needs a little, teensy bit of sugar.

Or his face seems to say that as he goes on, “she’s a mean girl. She’s mean.”

Jimin isn’t sure if Seokjin’s aware that he’s just repeated the same thing twice.

“She calls you Chim!” The older man reiterates.

“Yeah, it’s…” Jimin trails off, the heartwarming image of you cuddling into him after yet another mindblowing sex, flashing at the back of his mind, “...her pet name for me.”

“Sounds to me like she can’t remember your actual name,” Min Yoongi interjects from the couch he’s claimed for himself ever since they got to their usual hangout.

It’s a penthouse Jimin’s parents bought him on his 18th birthday. Him and the boys would hang around there after they’re done with classes or just need a place to crash whenever they have problems with their girlfriends or boyfriends or parents or any sort of problem that renders their usual room not sleepable.

“I think we can just agree we have different wants,” Jeongguk - or the sanest of them all, as Jimin likes to call him - chirps in, taking a bite of the apple he got from the fridge.

“Exactly,” Jimin throws his hands up as if freed from his elder friends’ judge-filled eyes. The vibration of his phone in his lap gives him even more comfort to know that he finally has an excuse to slip away - he checks his phone, your name flashing in the bubble that says ‘hey, wyd?’

“I have to go, it’s ___.”

A series of groans and hollers equally erupts from the men in the room at the realization of what Jimin’s ‘having to go’ means.

And so it goes. Jimin finds himself under your blanket that smells like fresh laundry - it’s a nude green color compared to the pleated black and white from last time. Your head is on his chest and he’s caressing your hair like it’s the softest thing he’s ever laid his hands on.

Besides your boobs, that is.

“I was thinking… since we have Monday off… maybe we could-”

It’s the way you push yourself off him, eyes that are onto him gazing straight into his soul, “oh shoot, Monday’s a public holiday. I totally forgot! I have to meet my parents. My dad’s been nagging me to come back since I skipped Christmas and New Year.”

And there goes his chance to ask you out on a date.

“Oh yeah, what were you saying about Monday?”

Jimin wears the biggest fake smile he can muster, “just that… me and the boys are gonna hang out and we’re bringing our girlfriends and boyfriends and uh- doesn’t have to be someone you’re exclusively seeing,” he almost chokes at the almost-admittance that he has the fattest crush on you and wants to make it official by inviting you to a couple’s-only hang out, “but like, I don’t think I’m going, it’s boring anyway.”

He waves his hand dismissively, trying to play it cool.

You make a cooing sound, eyebrows knitting together as your lips pout cutely before a playful smile blooms on your face, “I know what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?” Jimin thinks he heard his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Yeah, you’re single and all the boys have someone special they’re gonna bring… it’s gonna be awkward as hell because they’re gonna act different because they’re around their special someone so you thought if I was there, it’d be more fun because at least you have a friend with you that’s not gonna act fake the whole time there but I can’t go so you decided you’re not going too like a minute ago.”

Silence lulls in after your analogy that you sound so sure of when, in fact, he has a whole list of things he’d do on the date which he may or may not have gone over a hundred times in his head.

Doesn’t matter now, since that date is a no-go.

He’s going to delete that list off his phone once he gets to his place and drink himself silly until he wipes it out of his mind.

“Yeah,” Jimin says a moment later, “yeah… I mean, girls in love are cute but boys in love are just… annoying.”

The week flies by without Jimin ever mentioning Monday and you’ve showed him the clothes you’re going to wear to visit your parents because apparently-

“It’s lunch at some five star Michelin restaurant and I think they’re gonna tell me they’re getting a divorce,” your voice drifts into the room from the open, walk-in closet.

“If they’re not in some long, dreadful battle on who gets the holiday house with the pool and the dogs - how do I look?” You step out, in a frilly creme sweater with a black ribbon tied around the collar of your white undershirt with a black pleated skirt that stops mid-thighs, just inches from your black stockings.

A glaring contrast to your collection of washed out skinny jeans, plain t-shirts and sneakers.

“You… look…” Jimin knows he should stop openly ogling at your never-before-seen drip but there’s just something about the creme colored sweater.

“Like a good girl?” You offer with a smile Jimin couldn’t quite put a name to. Somehow he notices a trace of sadness in your eyes, but you disappear into the closet too soon.

“I’ll think about what to wear the morning I need to wear it,” you’re in the middle of pulling off the sweater when Jimin comes up behind you, kissing your neck and grabbing your boobs like they’re his.

The sound of your giggle is music to his ears.

That is, until his boner brushes against your butt and you gasp, “Chim! We just did it.”

“I know but you look so cute in that sweater.” He sounds exactly like Jeongguk. Like a fuckboy.

Like one of the boys you got tired of before you finally noticed him, the quiet, shy guy who’s friends with the outgoing, baby-faced Jeon Jeongguk whom - Jimin hates to admit it but he thinks about this every once so often and gets jealous all on his own - you’ve humped and dumped.

How you and Jeongguk still manage to stay friends and tease each other about the other’s choice of partners, Jimin doesn’t know.

It’s like a twin calling the other ugly.

He wonders if you and him will still stay friends after…

Jimin pushes the thought out of his mind. It’s not hard to forget everything when he’s with you - when he’s kissing you on the mouth like you’re the only girl he’ll want to spend the rest of his college life with and maybe his old days with together too.

“Chim, I can’t get my shirt creased,” you say but you’re already dripping wet and laying down in said shirt that’s half ridden up from him sucking and biting on your nipples.

He stopped you when you tried to take off your clothes.

“I’ll wash it and iron it for you,” he negotiates just as he rolls the condom over his length.

The sound of your giggle makes his heart skip a beat. Or maybe that’s the libido?

Either way, your mouth clamps shut when he pulls you down against him by the dip of your waist.

A different kind of hymn leaves your lips as Jimin throws his head back, relishing in the feeling of you around him.

When Monday rolls around, Jimin’s lying on the bean bag with his two legs sprawled over the floor. The boys are all out with either their significant others, working part-time or at a party.

The worn out baseball Jimin’s been tossing in the air and catching with one hand finally hits him square in the face when he hears the doorbell, signaling the presence of someone at the door and that someone being none of the boys because they would just punch in the code and strut in like they own the place.

Jimin thought maybe it’s Yoongi - the guy couldn’t even remember what he had for dinner and actually forgot the passcode to his own rental room once.

So he didn’t think to check who it was.

When your bright smile and slightly puffy eyes flash in front of him, Jimin thinks his soul just yeeted itself out of his body.

“Hey!” You sing song, holding up two plastic bags of beers and snacks.

It takes a moment for him to snap out of his stupor and grab them from your hands and then stepping aside to let you in.

“Is… everyone late or am I just early?” You sound increasingly confused as you step further into the center of the room, standing right next to the bean bag he was laying in just a moment ago.

“Oh-” he says once before he opens his mouth the second time, ready to spurt out another lie, “oh yeah… we decided not to ‘cause why hang out in a group when you can hang out with your significant other… you know, just the two of you… doing what couples do…”

“Huh,” you say, nodding though not quite believing him but you being you, easily lets it slide, plopping on the bean bag and grabbing the closest thing to you which is the ball that hit Jimin in the face - he’s sure he has a circular mark smack dab in the area on the top of his nose bridge, in between his eyes.

The dress you end up wearing is creme colored and riding up your thighs - Jimin swallows thickly and give extra attention to the bottle opener.

“So… how did lunch go?” He pops two beers open and hands one to you, taking a seat on Yoongi’s favorite couch and admiring how your dress is taking the shape of your body as gravity pulls it down.

“Oh, you know, everyone was being fake and acting like the perfect role in the family,” you put the beer down a few inches above your head so as to not tip it over with the ball you’re waving around but not throwing in the air like Jimin did.

“Sounds suffocating,” Jimin repeats a similar answer he gives whenever you use that dismissive tone while talking about your family.

“...are you okay?” Then he asks - and he’s genuinely asking - about your state of mind while casually downing the beer and feeling the bitterness lessen with every gulp.

The silence that lapses in between you is familiar.

“If I say no, can I get a hug?” It’s the look in your eyes, glimmering like the lake he used to go to in summer.

“Always,” he sets his beer down on the table next to the couch and goes over to you, standing on his knees before bending down and engulfing you in his arm.

You’ve always had a knack for picking yourself up.

When he sees you the next time, which is on instagram and a post of you having lunch with your friends, Jimin could hardly believe that’s the girl who asked him for a hug as if she’s afraid she’ll be putting him in an uncomfortable spot by asking for too much.

But there’s something…

Like an invisible wall made of ice that he can’t thaw through nor can he climb over to get to the other side where you are. Where you keep the people you love the closest. Closer than he’ll ever be.

Jeon Jeongguk is one of them.

In the picture of five people huddled close to fit in the frame, Jeongguk has his arm over you with a peace sign while you lean your head on his neck but not actually resting on it - like it’s an unconscious action you’d do because you’ve done that plenty of times.

Is it when you two were together?

Everyone he knows, knows that you and Jeongguk used to be more than just friends at some point.

Sometimes he still hears people talking about you two in passing.

‘Did ___ and Jeongguk get back together? I saw in Jeongguk’s snapstory - they were in a club or something.’

‘No way. There goes my chance of getting close with Jeongguk.’

‘Girl, with ___ hanging around him 24/7, do you think he’d look at girls like us?’

‘A girl can dream though.’

Jimin wanted to open his mouth and tell them they deserve way better than Jeon Jeongguk - though they’re not prettier than you.

He thinks you’re the loveliest girl on planet earth and if there was another life form on another planet, he’s almost a hundred percent sure you’d still be prettiest being in the universe with your obsession for skinny jeans and the way you’d unconsciously pout when he talks about how things weren’t going his way that day as if you would’ve exchanged your abundance of luck with his shitty one just because you’ve got that big of a heart and how you’d be walking with your friends, laughing and giggling and when you see him, you’d wave at him like you’re good friends.

Second only to Jeongguk and your friend group that you’re always hanging out with.

“Oh, ___? We were childhood friends.”

“Hmm… Gguk and I became friends because our parents are friends.”

The two of them say at different times and settings when Jimin asked, trying to play it cool. Like he isn’t just brimming with jealousy. Like he’s not half-way to losing his mind because the girl of his dreams just went to a retreat with his friend-of-a-friend-turned-actual-friend together when everyone else in the group who was excitedly planning for the trip - couldn’t make it.

The rooms at the inn weren’t even pre-booked. It was owned by Jeongguk’s family and they didn’t deposit any money for the trip for them to rationalize going on that trip anyway despite everyone else not being to go.

“The trip? It was fun, if you want we can go together next time.”

Jimin isn’t sure if you even mean that when he asked how the trip went after you’re glistening with the glow of after sex and scrolling through instagram, liking posts of everyone you know.

But then three months later, on your break, Jimin is hit with a ‘keep your schedule free next week for a whole week!!!’

Then he finds himself at a five star hotel by the beach with the most breathtaking view of the sea.

It wasn’t the inn owned by the Jeon’s but Jimin liked the fact that you brought him to a place - and he hopes his assumptions are true - your friends have never been before. Especially Jeongguk.

“Woah, this place is better than I thought,” a king sized bed lies directly across from the balcony where you’re standing, hair flying behind your back as the seaside breeze blows into the room.

“We can watch the sun rise and set from our bed,” Jimin comments for the sake of saying something.

He’s not sure what this means. He’s not sure if he should be having a boner at the thought of the two of you being together for a whole week without any other person getting in the way. He’s not sure if his heart should be thumping this fast.

For the first time since he’s known you, Park Jimin is the most unsure he’s ever been.

“You know what I wanna watch?” Your hands slip in his as you stand between him  and the open balcony door, “you under me, biting your lips because you’re still shy about the sound you make.”

So when you tug him back into the bedroom just minutes after checking in, naturally, Park Jimin follows like he’s been bewitched by your ungodly beauty.

Once the one week of nothing but heavenly morning wishes and passionate night kisses - oh, there was more than just kissing but Jimin remembers how your lips meld so perfectly together with his the most - Jimin is sure.

‘Something definitely changed.’

He thinks maybe it’s not impossible to dream of a future with you even after college.

“Jimin I-... I’m not at a point in life to be thinking about relationships,” you say, hand gripping your arm, head lowered as if your whole body is saying sorry.

“O-oh,” is all he says, he hearts his heart breaking and his chest caving.

All of a sudden, the lights in Gangnam city doesn’t seem so bright anymore.

You both live your last year pretending like the other doesn’t exist. He doesn’t look at you when he passes you and neither did you. Only talks to Jeongguk even though you’re right next to the aforementioned man - granted you were talking with your other friends like you didn’t even notice him there.

But Jimin’s never felt so invisible in his life than he does now.

Then, graduation rolls around and he thinks finally, he won’t have to walk through the hallway and pretend like he didn’t see you. Don't have to keep a five feet distance whenever you meet up for a group project.

Park Jimin doesn’t need to see your pretty face and starry eyes anymore.

“Jimin… do you have a minute?”

Or so he thought.

“So… congrats on surviving college,” you make small talk while standing just ten feet away from the boys whom he’s sure are speculating on what you’re talking about.

Jimin never got to prove to his friends that you’re not the mean, name-forgetting girl they all thought.

Jeongguk knows you’re not. He’s always backing Jimin up when Jimin’s debunking their passing accusations about you.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out between two people but doesn’t mean one of them is the bad guy.” Jeongguk's words put an end to their debate of whether Jimin deserved better than you or not.

For someone young, Jeongguk spoke his mind decidedly.

Jimin felt ashamed that he’d ever been jealous of Jeongguk’s relationship with you.

“I just… didn’t wanna leave things on a bad note. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I said no but I really like spending time with you - whether it’s sex or just staying over and cuddling for hours… I like it all.” You say the word sex and cuddle like they’re used interchangeably and Jimin thinks his heart just fluttered.

And you’d said it in public where your everyone can see or possibly pick up on what you were saying, at that.

Well, one thing’s for sure, you’ve got bigger balls than he does.

“My feelings are the same as six months ago and call me crazy but I don’t think you dislike me either.” He finally says and it feels like a deadweight has been lifted off his shoulders.

There comes that pout, as if something is bothering you and you always ever pout like that when that something concerns him.

“You kidding me? I can never dislike you.”

The Jimin from six months ago would have stared at you with disbelief and a dust of pink on his cheeks. But the Jimin he is now simply smiles, heart thumping in his chest. He nods.

“Thanks for telling me that,” and Jimin knows that’s the closest to an ‘I like you’ he can get with the girl who builds an ice fortress around her heart.

A whole year passes by and Jimin finds himself in different shades of grey every day, working at his dad’s company and attending dinner meetings. Life comes to a standstill while time passes him by.

“So, like, you have a sports car, right? Why don’t you come over to the race circuit after dinner? Everyone’s gonna be there.”

Jeongguk tells him over the phone.

And by ‘everyone’ he means the sons and daughters in the corporate world. It’s networking at its finest.

When he’s there, three cars are already racing in the circuit. The smell of burnt rubber and the sound of tires screeching against asphalt isn’t exactly his favorite but they have cheap booze instead of fine wine and he knows the people here are in for the same thing as he is.

An escape.

Away from the grandeur of fine wine and dinner dresses and the elders breathing down their necks and having to act like the next heir to the legacy they were born to carry.

“That Chevrolet over there,” Jeongguk comes, hand on Jimin’s back as his other one that’s holding a bottle of beer points at a red car that looks like a racing fireball, “everyone’s betting on that one tonight.”

Jimin doesn’t know there’s a bet.

“I’ll skip the bet this time ‘round. Haven’t seen the driver yet,” he shrugs dismissively.

Even in stock investment, he’d learned to study the market first before placing his best bet.

Jeongguk leaves his side when his friends - he’s got new ones now - beckons him over. At the same time, the Chevrolet passes the finish line seconds before the Ford Mustang and McLaren 720s, making it the winner of the night.

The driver seems like a show off with the way the car rolls up to the audience, the sound of its engines revving into the night being met with cheers of half-drunk young adults.

Arrogance is a man’s downfall.

Jimin’s about to turn around and head for the exit when the door of the car gets pushed open. The driver steps out, decked in black and red leather jeans and jackets that seem to match the car.

But it’s the smooth, silken hair that cascades past the helmet that catches his eyes.

Park Jimin’s seen many arrogant men in his life but he’s only ever seen one woman with balls and looks good wearing them.

“___! ___! ___!” The crowd starts cheering as you pull off the helmet, holding it underneath your arm and waist.

Your eyes are as brilliant as the night sky full of stars. They’re tinged with shock and then recognition. And finally, you smile that gorgeous smile that gets you misunderstood often as a woman who doesn’t need anything or anyone but uses them as they come.

But Park Jimin knows better than anyone, how wholeheartedly happy that smile looks when you see him.

Like meeting a good friend after a long time.

Seven months down the road, Jimin finds himself with just a blanket draped over his waist while you’re taking a shower in his bathroom to get ready to head to Hong Kong for a business trip.

He hears the sound of the shower head being turned off. The tapping of your foot around his bedroom as you pick up your clothes that are strewn all over the floor.

Then the bed dips ever so gently under your weight as you climb over to him, the fresh scent of shower get filling his senses.  Lips press a deep, lingering kiss on his. As if you don’t want to go to a place where he won’t be.

A few socials and midnight races after his first meeting with you after a long time, you asked him if he’s seeing someone.

“If I say yes, what will you do?” It’s playful at first, because Jimin didn’t want to get himself hurt the second time.

But it’s the way you tilted your head, a finger tapping on your chin as you pondered on his words, “that’s a problem because I don’t want to be that girl that steals another girl’s man,” then you looked at him like you know he’s the one you want to wake up to every morning and the last face you see when you sleep at night and if you can’t have that. then-

“Can you be mine… just for tonight?”

“I don’t think I can.” The crestfallen expression you wear makes his own heart break, even if it’s just for a split second-

“Because I’m not seeing anyone but I’m in that point in life where I want a serious relationship or nothing at all.”

But what he doesn’t tell you is how he doesn’t want a relationship if it’s not with the girl who still haunts his dreams even after all this time.

Just like how you’d turned him down because you weren’t looking to be in a relationship before, you’d courted Jimin like you’d want to spend your whole life with him now.

Flowers got sent to his office everyday until it smells nothing short of floral. You’d be there, waving at him like he’s your savior in that dreadful social you were both attending. Every week, you’d plan dinner dates under the guise of catching up.

Before you race, you’d look over to where he’s standing, as if saying ‘this one’s for you’ before slipping into your car and coming out first every single time.

As if you were making up for every month of the year that you’d let life pass you by.

Now you’ve won a total of 36 races since he met you and the metal band you gifted him on the night of your 12th win feels warm against his skin. As if it’s absorbed all the love and adoration you poured into it.

And you’re wearing that ring he got you on your birthday on your finger that’s resting on his chest where his heart is as he kisses you back just as reluctant to let you leave.

But Park Jimin knows wherever you are, wherever you will be - you will always find your way back to each other.

Back home.

[legends-of-apex]

‘Close Encounters of The Soft Kind’ - Bi-Han/Sub-Zero x Reader (fluff)

Summary: Shang Tsung asks you to tend to Bi-Han’s wounds after the fight with Jax.

A/N: Thank you all so much for your interest in this idea! Here it is! Hope you all enjoy :D Was so excited to write for Bi-Han as he’s such a great character! Hope you enjoy a softer side of him lol. TW for slight injury detail and the reader (GN) being a servant of Shang Tsung

Word Count: 3,500

Part Two

Tagging: @nyxdjarin @dragon-chica (if you’d like to be tagged in future fics please let me know!)

“You have returned, my champion! Were you successful?” Shang Tsung’s voice boomed as Sub-Zero made his way towards the dark, looming throne. The setting sun created a brilliant orange glow that bloomed behind it. He shook his head in reply, clenching and releasing his shoulder muscles in an attempt to release some of the aches and tension built up in the aftermath of the fight with Jax.

Shang Tsung let out a frustrated sigh through his teeth and cracked his neck, “You will have ample opportunity to succeed, I can assure you.” He was disappointed at his failure but he knew he had to keep Bi-Han on his side and sometimes that meant not letting his pride get in the way. He had to treat him well and keep him happy to retain the allegiance of someone so powerful. “You are injured?” Sub-Zero looked up at him, confused but saw that some of the blood had leaked through his armour on his forearm. Most of it wasn’t his but he truly couldn’t be bothered to explain as much.

Shang Tsung called your name then and you carefully stepped out from beside his throne, leaving the all too comfortable darkness. “Tend to our guests' wounds. And see to it that he is comfortable.” You bowed quickly before him, walking swiftly past Sub-Zero, your eyes cast straight at the floor. You turned briefly to see if the man was following you and you saw that he was, slowly, his eyes dead set on you. You caught his bright eyes for a moment and then turned your attention back to the ground as you walked towards the nearest free room in the castle.

The man’s footsteps were silent, the only sound following him was the occasional clink of his armour as he moved. When you reached the closest empty room you opened the door for him and stood to the side, avoiding his bright gaze at all costs. He took a cautious step inside, but he was too tired to care at this point if you were leading him to his death. He just wanted to sleep.

You closed the door behind you and started searching one of the many cupboards within the room. It was lavish, with all kinds of expensive furnishings and fabrics that Bi-Han hadn’t had the time to enjoy for a century. The room was warm too, but he would soon fix that if he needed to. He noticed the faint flickering of the candles on the wall, the room was clearly well prepared.

You approached him with a bundle of supplies in your arms and he now noticed the tatters and tears on the hems of your clothing. He wondered exactly what you were to Shang Tsung. If you were a lover or a concubine he was sure you would have been kept in better dress. You seemed far too shy for that anyhow, you wouldn’t even look him in the eye but that wasn’t usually an accurate indicator of anything. It was rare for anyone to counter his gaze.

You dumped the supplies on the bed and a quick flicker of your eyes up to his signalled for him to take a seat. He did, chin tilted towards the sky as he looked at you over his nose. He sat at the edge of the extravagantly large bed in the centre of the room, moving to undo his bracers but stopped when your hand shot out to stop him. You lay his large hand out over his lap and carefully undid the first buckle, then the other before sliding the piece of armour off his hand and placing it on a nearby dresser. He thought it was adorable how you cradled the piece in your arms as though it were made of gold.

He watched your face the entire time, brows knitted together as he studied you. He was trying to figure out what your intentions were in Shang Tsung’s castle, why you were here. You were beautiful, he didn’t mind admitting it. He knew beauty when he saw it although it was rare that he stopped to notice it. He couldn’t help but wonder exactly what such beauty was doing here of all places.

As you slipped the other bracer from his wrist, your finger brushed against his skin and recoiled slightly from the cold. He didn’t really notice, all too focused on the feeling of the touch of another on his skin. It was such a foreign feeling that he found himself frowning at it. You moved around him, undoing the straps that held his shoulder pads in place before setting those aside as well. His eyes burned into the back of your head as you moved around the room and you caught them with your own when you turned to face him again.

“Do you- Would you like your mask removed?” You asked, eyes flickering between him and the floor. He contemplated the question for a moment. Did he want you to see his face? He wasn’t sure. It had been at least a decade since anyone had. But your kind eyes and soft touch outweighed any concerns he had. Your voice was kind too, but worrisome in how you stumbled over your words. He hated to think why you were afraid to speak. A strange pang of concern drummed through his stomach as he contemplated the reason. Perhaps you were just afraid of him? That’s what he would usually put it down to but it wasn’t him you seemed afraid of.

He nodded his head once and went to undo the strap at the back of his head, pulling the helmet off, taking the mask with it. You couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. He was human. Or at least he looked human. If it wasn’t for his eyes and his slightly busted lip then he could’ve been any normal man you’d see walk by on the street. But he wasn’t and you knew that. You’d heard the whispers of his brutality, his callousness echoing through Shang Tsung’s castle. But now, as you gazed upon his handsome face, the faintest ghost of a smile gracing his reddened lips as he looked right back at you, he almost could’ve fooled you into thinking he wasn’t any of that. 

The way you looked at him now was hilarious, he couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps you were expecting some gaping maw for a mouth and not the face of what appeared to be just a man? A very handsome man. He hadn’t had anyone look at him like that in so long, you were almost admiring him. He suddenly felt a little nervous under your stare, he hadn’t the faintest idea why. 

You extended both your hands to him and he placed the mask and helmet into your palms. 

When you return back to him, you help him shrug off the rest of his armour and he felt the weight that left with it deep within his very bones. He needed a rest, not that he would ever admit it. You searched his body for a clasp to undo his chest plate, frowning slightly when you couldn’t see any. He liked your frown, he decided. It looked so out of place on your features.

Your breath hitched when he took your hand in his. His skin was so cold, colder than any living person’s flesh you had ever felt. He guided your hand to the side of his ribs then and you felt the clasp beneath your fingertips. He knew you weren’t going to let him do it himself but his hand didn’t leave yours, neither did his eyes but you were too focused on undoing the armour to truly notice the extent of his stare. 

Once shed of his chest plate, the only thing standing between you and his injuries now was his black undershirt. You didn’t need to ask him to remove it. He reached back and grabbed the hem of it at the base of his neck, pulling the ruined material over his head and into his lap. You bit the inside of your cheek at the sight.

His shoulders were broad, as was his chest, the muscle thick and skin scarred. In a way it looked like someone had ran a jagged paintbrush over his skin, it was certainly a better alternative than the tool that was actually responsible. His arms were well worked too but you had to stop admiring him when you caught sight of his wound. 

With a shaky hand, you placed a finger on either side of the gash on his bicep. It wasn’t deep but it would need stitches. Every other mark and bruise paled in comparison to that gash so you would deal with it first. His gaze almost softened as you touched his arm, he could’ve closed his eyes at the feeling of such intimacy. Your fingertips were so warm, so soft. If he hadn’t known better he would’ve mistaken you for someone who cared about him.

You moved away from him to grab a chair to pull up beside him and filled a bowl with water so you could clean the wound and his other grazes. You had never thought that you of all people would be the one to see Sub-Zero without his armour. It was a daunting thought. You knew of the work he did for Shang Tsung, you knew he was a monster. But the way he looked at you now was less like he wanted to hurt you, and more like he was savouring you and your presence. You didn’t mind being so close to him now either. He wasn’t harsh, in fact, he was anything but. Any move he made was slow, almost as though he was afraid of scaring you. 

You dipped a cotton ball into the warm water, lifting it and squeezing some of the liquid out before bringing it to his wound. You dabbed at it gently, wiping away any crusted blood or debris you could find. His gaze was still locked on your face then but it was soft, studying. 

He liked watching you work. He admired how gentle your touch was despite you having no relation to him at all. Did you treat everyone with such kindness? Either way, he savoured the inherent intimacy of what you were doing. You could’ve nearly been a lover then, he thought. A lover painstakingly tending to him after a hard day. Your touch certainly could have been that of a lover, so gentle and careful not to apply too much pressure to his skin in case you hurt him. It had been a long time since he had let anyone touch him in such a way, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be cared for.

He knew you weren’t a lover, of course. But he let himself relax as though you were. He trusted you, not finding a single ounce of malice in your presence. You seemed grateful when his shoulders slacked a little, knowing he wasn’t too on edge now. In truth, he was relaxed. Having forgotten how calming the touch of another could be, even if you were just wiping away dried blood. 

Once that wound was cleaned, you turned to the stray scratches that littered the rest of him. He hadn’t the heart to tell you they would heal in no time. As you looked over his chest, a frown graced you as you noticed a particularly wretched-looking scar that zig zagged across his abdomen. You examined it between your fingers, gently stretching the skin to get a better look. You were frowning again, and you took in a breath like you wanted to say something but bit your tongue.

He cocked his head to the side, silently asking you what it was you wanted to say. 

“This hasn’t been stitched up very well.”

And he laughed beneath his breath. That was such a strange sound. You looked up at him, finding the amusement in his brilliant eyes. You raised your eyebrows in question, wondering what on earth he found funny.

“Healing techniques weren’t particularly precise when it happened.” That scar had come from Hanzo’s blade, stabbed him right through a gap in his armour.

“Oh.” You continued to look it over, examining just how badly it had been taken care of. You were doing literally anything you could to distract yourself from how nice his voice was and how seemingly privileged you were to hear it. “When did it happen?”

He smiled, weighing up whether or not he should tell you. “1617.” 

You pulled back and looked at him with wide eyes. You didn’t look afraid, you just looked at him like you couldn’t believe what he’d just told you. With a shake of your head, you returned to cleaning the rest of his wounds. You looked like you wanted to say something but held your tongue again, he longed to hear what you had to say about the matter. Or anything else really. 

As you dabbed at the specks of blood on his chest he found himself relaxing more and more, his shoulders slumped forward slightly. Your touch felt like heaven, warm fluttering fingertips on his skin.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying.” You cleared your throat, “You don’t look a day over a hundred.” You smiled up at him then. A brilliant smile that he couldn’t help return. You were joking with him, and he loved it.

Once his wounds were cleaned and his skin held a glistening sheen from your moistened cotton wool, you sat up and grabbed a needle, holding it over a candle for a moment before threading it. When you returned to him, he held his injured arm out for you, not shying away from the red hot needle at all. You were careful with your stitches, not that he had high standards for your needlework. But you noticed how he didn’t even flinch. Not once, in fact, he only moved to turn his arm slightly so you could see the wound better. What a strange man he was.

When you were finished you grabbed a bottle of ointment for him. The herbs smelt wonderful, a refreshing change to the smell of blood. You coated your hands in it then and set about rubbing it into his gashes and grazes. You’d be lying if you said your fingers hadn’t lingered longer than necessary on his torn skin. He didn’t seem to care. Your fingers rubbed in circles, slow and gentle. The cold radiating off of him didn’t seem to bother you now, in fact, his skin warmed slightly beneath your touch. 

When you were finished, you stood but noticed a single droplet of dried blood on his temple.  Instinctively, you reached forward to find the source. Your nails dragged over his scalp as you parted his hair to find the gash, and he swore he’d never felt a sensation so wonderful. 

“You hit your head.” You noted, more to yourself than him it seemed. The gash was small, only a graze really but you cleaned it anyways. Any head injury was concerning no matter how small. “Do you need some ice?” You asked and he looked up at you as if asking if you were joking.

You had no idea why he’d had that reaction. Maybe it was because it didn’t hurt at all? 

Sensing your confusion, he extended his hand towards you, his palm turned towards the ceiling. Specks of blood appeared in the centre of his palm, shortly followed by small ice crystals. The crystals swelled and grew until in his hand he held the most perfect sphere of solid ice. You blinked rapidly, looking between his face and the ice.

“A cryomancer?” You asked, excitement evidence on your face as you cupped his large hand between both of yours, admiring the ice. “I didn’t realise there were any of you left.” You whispered to yourself but he heard. “I’m so sorry. Please excuse my excitement. I’ve just never met anyone like you before.” Your voice was timid now, almost sheepish as you straightened your posture and regained your composure.

“Please, there is no need to apologise.” His voice was low, and he swallowed thickly after he spoke. Like he wasn't too used to speaking anymore.

You took the sphere from his hands, cradling it as though it were some precious gem. You wrapped it in a cloth then and held it carefully to the side of his head. “For the swelling.” You confirmed, daring to sneak a glance at his face again. His eyes were like pools, you could stare at them forever but you forced yourself to break away from his gaze and focus on why you were here. “Have you any more injuries?” You asked him and he shook his head in reply, placing his hand over yours to support your makeshift ice pack. You left your hand there for a moment, biting the inside of your lip at the touch before letting your hand drop to your side.

You began to gather your things together, “It was wonderful to meet you…” you trailed off, realising you didn’t know his name,

“Bi-Han.” He didn’t know why he said it, as freely and openly as he did. 

“Bi-Han.” You confirmed and he decided then that your voice was the only one he ever wanted to hear saying his name. “It was lovely to meet you, Bi-Han. If you need anything, there will be servants passing through the halls all night.”

“Is that what you are?” He asked, silently hoping that wasn’t the case.

“A servant?” You sighed, “I suppose you could call me that.” He didn’t like that answer.

“Are you here of your own accord?”

“No.” You shook your head, sadness evident across your beautiful face, “I should be going.”

His eyes closed. That was exactly what he was afraid of. You were a prisoner here. No wonder you were so nervous. Shang Tsung was a bastard, to be fair so was he. But Bi-Han was always a bigger fan of quick deaths rather than prolonged suffering or servitude. He was only here to end Hanzo’s line, the only one who offered him the chance to do so was Shang Tsung but that didn’t mean he held any semblance of loyalty to the man.

He wasn’t sure what to say then. He couldn’t really offer any comfort. So he gave you the one thing he could. You saw the ice begin to sprout from one hand, and he shaped it with his other. You looked on, curious as to what exactly he was doing. When he held his hand out to you again, a dagger made of solid ice sat within it. He grabbed the hilt between his fingers and twirled it towards you. You took it with a shaky hand, unsure of his intentions.

“Should you need to defend yourself.” he clarified, “It will not melt.” Not with how dense he had made it.

You threw your arms around his neck then, something he truly wasn’t expecting. When you pulled back your eyes were teary.

“Thank you.” You spoke with such sincerity and vigour that he felt some foreign emotion stir within his chest. It seems like it had been a while since you had been shown any kindness too.

He admired how you stared in awe of the dagger, pressing it flat against your chest as though it was the most precious gift you had ever received. “Thank you, Bi-Han. Whatever can I do to repay you?” You looked to him for an answer. He was about to shake his head, tell you that you’d already done far more for him than he could ever hope to explain. But then he had a thought. 

“Your name. All I ask is your name.”

You told him without hesitation and he extended his hand towards you once more. You took it, surprised when he turned your palm around and brought your knuckles to his lips, his eyes dead set on yours as he did.

“Thank you,” he told you with all the sincerity in his heart, you assumed it was for patching him up but he meant it for much much more. The kindness you had shown him was truly something else, he felt truly blessed by the gods to have met you. He released your hand then and you stood frozen for a moment before shifting the dagger into the bundle of supplies and gathering them back in your arms.

You shook your head as you walked towards the door. “No, thank you.” You offered him a final smile then, “Good night, Bi-Han.” With that, you were gone. He silently cursed himself for not wishing you a good night as well. He decided then and there that he would speak with Shang Tsung about you in the morning. There was no way in hell that he was letting him keep you here without your say so and he didn’t care what he had to do to get you out of that place.

Part two

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 3 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hey gang, I wanted to give y’all another update this week because I know there wasn’t a lot of hotch in the last chapter. This is a long one! 

Read previous chapters here!

wordcount: 3.6k

warnings: canon-typical harassment and violence, swearing

tagging: @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee

It’s closer to the afternoon than the morning when you finally get out of bed the next day. Aaron had set you up in his guest room before going to bed himself, and had dutifully woken you up every two hours. You emerged into the kitchen to see him sitting at the table with his laptop open, surely working even though he was technically out on sick leave. 

“Good morning” he says when he sees you appear in the doorway. “The coffee’s still hot, if you want some. I don’t have any RedBull, though.” 

You rolled your eyes as you crossed the kitchen to make yourself a cup. “Is it still morning? It feels like I must have slept through the whole day.”

“Well, you needed it. Long night.” He tells you, and you let out a little hum in response. “Hey, uh. Your cell phone is on the counter. It was making a lot of noise and I didn’t want it to wake you.” he admits sheepishly. “I didn’t read anything, but Josh’s name popped up a lot.”

You pouted a little. “I guess I did kind of just disappear. I probably owe him an explanation,” you said, crossing the kitchen and picking your phone up.

“You don’t owe him a god damned thing.” Hotch said a little harshly, but you knew his tone wasn’t aimed towards you. 

You powered your phone on-- Hotch must have turned it on after he took it. 13 missed calls and 27 texts, sheesh. Not all of them are from Josh, thankfully. You shoot a quick text back to JJ, Garcia and Emily, who had all individually checked in when you didn’t show up at the office. With a little more trepidation, you opened up your thread with Josh. 

“Where are you?”

“You never came to bed last night.”

“Off fucking the boss man?”

 “Did I catch you before you got down to anything good?”

“Fucking slut.”

“Couldn’t even finish cleaning the carpet before you left.”

“Fucking answer me.”

“Did I bash your skull so hard that you forgot to pack my lunch before you left?”

“This is ridiculous.’

“So you’re just running away?”

“Don’t be such a baby.” 

“You are so in for it when you get home.”

“I should have killed you.”

There’s more, but you’re not sure you can stomach it. You drop your phone to the counter, swallowing back a bit of bile that has risen up from your stomach. Aaron is at your side in an instant. 

“Can I look?” He asked quietly. He’s looking you right in the eye but you feel like you can’t see him at all, like he’s not really there. You must have nodded your head, because he picked up your phone and started scrolling, but you have no way of knowing how you even told your body to do that. After a moment, he sets your phone face down on the counter, and turns to face you, placing a gentle hand on each of your upper arms. “We are going to figure it out, okay? You’re not in this alone, and I’m not going to let you get hurt again. You did the right thing. You got out. And now you have help.” 

 He’s staring into your eyes as he promises to keep you safe, and the dam breaks. All of the emotions that you’ve bottled up for the last ten hours are flooding through you, and you’re sobbing uncontrollably before you have even recognized how upset you really are. Aaron gathers you up in his arms in an instant, and you wrap your arms around him, crying into his old sweatshirt. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it all out,” he whispers in a mantra, rubbing your back.

You realize in this moment that Aaron is truly your best friend-- you’d always known that you were closer to him than anyone else in the office, and the same was true for him, with the possible exception of Dave. What you hadn’t realized, is that somewhere along the way, your college friendships, your academy friendships, your girlfriends, had all faded into the background, and Aaron became the person you wanted to tell good news to, the person you drew comfort from, and the person you called when you realized you couldn’t get the blood out of the carpet. The realization surprises you, enough to let you get a few deep breaths in and calm yourself down, untucking from Aaron’s shoulder and dabbing at your eyes with your shirt sleeve.

 “Thank you,” you say through your choked voice, even though it could never be enough.

“How’s your head?” He asked, looking over the top of your head to the clock on the stove to see if it was time for you to have more pain meds.  

“Ah, well, I don’t think the crying really helped.” You shrugged, attempting to bring some levity back to the situation as you picked your phone back up. 

“What are you doing?” Hotch asked, eyeing you and the phone. 

“I’m calling Josh back.” You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Okay, now I’m sure you hit your head,” he said, swiping the phone out of your hand before you could place a call.

“Hotch--” 

 “Can you at least tell me why you want to do this?” He said, and you can see the concern etched into his face. 

“I’ve got to go back at some point. I’m sure it’ll be easier for him to cool off if I’m not completely ignoring him in the meantime.”

“Go back? What are you talking about?” Aaron asked

“I live there, Hotchner. I can’t avoid him forever. Even if I move--”

“You’ll stay here. For as long as necessary. It’s not safe for you to go back there.” He says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Do I get a say in this at all?” 

“Not if your only defense is that you don’t want someone else to take care of you. Because right now you need caring for, and I’m not letting you talk your way out of it.” Hotch said resolutely, and you sighed. The silence lingers for a moment before you speak up again, quietly. 

“I could use some more pain meds.” You admitted. 

“You shouldn’t take these on an empty stomach. Let’s get you some toast, drink your coffee to clear up your sinuses and then you can take your next dose and go back to bed.” 

“Hotch, the day’s half over. I can’t go back to bed.” You argued, with significantly less heat behind it, lifting the steaming mug of coffee up to your face at his suggestion. 

“It’s a sick day. You’re injured. You’re supposed to rest all day and let your body heal. You won’t be arguing with me once you’ve taken the pills.”

Hotch had tried to get you to take the rest of the week off, but you couldn’t stand the thought of sitting around in his apartment doing nothing. You also knew that an extended absence would catch the attention of your teammates-- and you weren’t sure if you were ready to share all of this with them yet. That was why you were perched in front of the mirror in Hotch’s guest room, liberally applying concealer and powder to your healing black eye. Aaron had made you promise to take it easy, and you already know he’d have eyes on you all day to make sure you weren’t overdoing it. No need to attract any more attention. There’s a soft knock from the hall. 

“Come in,” you called.

“Hey,” Hotch said, swinging open the door. “We’ve got to leave in a few minutes.” 

“I’ll be ready,” you assured him, dipping your brush into the powder before brushing it over your nose and cheekbone, wincing a little. 

“When did you learn to do that?” Hotch asked softly.

“Hotch…” You responded softly. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t need to answer that.” He apologized, averting his gaze to the floor.

“If I answer, are you going to stop blaming yourself for not noticing?”

“I can’t promise you that.” He shakes his head. 

“I wasn’t… I’m not a battered woman, Hotch.” 

“Of course you aren’t.” He’s quick to affirm you, to make sure you know he doesn’t see you as a victim.

“No, I mean, this was excessive. Was he rough? Sure. Did he leave marks? Yeah, he did. But I wasn’t getting tossed around and beaten like that. He’s not really like that, normally. He was just drunk, I think.” 

“You’re not seriously making excuses for him, are you?” Hotch asked, and suddenly you’re indignant, even though you know he’s right.

“He had a bad night.” You protest weakly. 

“He almost killed you!” Aaron raised his voice, just a tad.

“He was just trying to scare me.” You countered. 

“He was escalating. I know that you know that,” Hotch said, searching your face, looking for something to profile. You didn’t blame him, you knew your behavior was erratic. You draw a deep breath, your chin quivering as your eyes welled up. 

“It worked. I’m scared.” You squeaked out, trying not to let the tears fall and ruin the makeup you’ve worked so hard on. Hotch wrapped you in his arms again and you breathed in deeply, letting his cologne fill your lungs and lull you into a calm.

“You don’t need to be scared. I’ve got your six. I’ve got you.” He reminded you, and you pulled away from him. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to share this with the team yet.” You told him, and he nodded. 

“Like I said, your pace. When you’re ready, you’ll tell them, and if you want my support, I’ll be there. I’m gonna go make us some coffee, meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

You were silly to think that you could hide anything from a group of profilers-- none of them have guessed it, yet, or if they have, they’re too polite to say anything about it, but they’ve certainly noticed something. They surrounded you with concern and peppered you with questions the second you walked into the office, and Hotch’s devotion to making sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard certainly wasn’t going unnoticed. It was during one of your Unit-Chief-Mandated-Breaks that you snuck into the kitchen to refill your water bottle. Almost silently, JJ slipped in behind you. 

“You know, you can just say the word, and we’ll all stop pestering you.” She says, and you can hear her gentle smile.

“That’s okay. If I call you off, I lose the right to fuss over whoever’s next.” You tried to crack a joke. 

“Good point.” She chuckled. 

“I really am okay, Jayje.” You assured her. 

“No, honey, you aren’t.” She shook her head. “But you’ll tell us when you’re ready, and we’ll support you even if the secret dies with you.” She laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked out of the kitchen together, sharing a small conspiratorial laugh, your heads thrown back as you pass through the doorway. When the ping of the elevator doors opening grabs your attention, you drop your water bottle in shock. 

“You okay?” JJ asks, bending over to pick up your water bottle as he storms through the glass doors of the BAU. 

“You whore!” Josh spat out, catching the attention of the whole bullpen. So much for keeping them out of it.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Morgan asked, rising from his desk immediately. 

“Josh?” Emily says, the first one to recognize him. Your eyes dart around the bullpen, and you spot Reid at his desk phone, no doubt calling security.  

“You fucking bitch!” Josh says, still advancing towards you. Your brain is screaming at you to run but you can’t get your legs to move. It’s a literal childhood nightmare, playing out in the flesh.

“Come on, let’s go back into the kitchen” JJ says softly, her tone betraying none of her fear as she practically shoves you back into the kitchen. You stumble into a chair, and the sound is muted because of the door, but you can still see and hear everything through the glass. Josh takes another step into the bullpen, but Morgan’s in front of him. 

“Turn around and walk out of here, man, because there’s no other way this ends well for you.” Morgan puffs out his chest, trying to stop Josh from looking over his shoulder and seeing you. 

“Not until that slut gives me some fucking answers,” He spits out, and you feel JJ squeeze your hand, but you’re too laser-focused on the scene in front of you to acknowledge her.

“I’m going to give you one more chance to walk away.” Morgan hisses through his teeth, advancing closer to Josh. 

“I’d listen to him if I were you.” Hotch said, suddenly appearing on the other side of Josh. You hadn’t seen him come down the stairs. 

“Ah, good old boss man.’ Josh jeered. “How’s my sloppy seconds? I hope she’s treating you real good seeing as how you stole her right out from under me in the night.”

Without warning, you watch Hotch’s fist connect with Josh’s face. Josh stumbles away, holding his nose, when security comes in through the elevators. 

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” He says, raising his hands in surrender. He turns around to face Hotch once more. “This isn’t over.” He says, bringing his hands back to his nose and following the security officer into the elevator.

There’s a stunned sort of silence that hangs over the unit for a few moments before you hear someone break out into a sob. When you feel JJ’s hand start rubbing across your back, you realize that it came from you. The door flies open and you startle, but when you look up, you see a clouded figure of Hotch through your tear-saturated eyes. 

You hear JJ and Aaron whisper to each other, but you can’t focus enough to hear what they’re saying. Whatever it is, the conversation ends with JJ slipping out of the kitchen just as quietly as she came, and Aaron sliding into the chair across from you.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, his voice only just loud enough for you to hear over the sound of your own labored breathing. You nodded, unable to verbally respond. He smoothed his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, taking your hands into his own. “You’re okay, he’s gone. Security knows who he is now, he won’t be allowed back in the building.” He tells you, and you nod again. 

“I’m okay.” You manage to choke out. 

“I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick.” He asked of you, disarmingly calm, as he modeled the deep cleansing breaths for you. You take a deep, shaky breath in, trying to force the oxygen all the way down into your lungs before letting it back out in a huff. “Good,” he told you. “Good job, sweetheart, keep going.” he encouraged you, tucking a piece of hair that had gotten stuck to your tear-stained cheek behind your ear. When you were finally calm enough to look up at him, you did so. “There you are,” he smiled at you. “You’re okay.” 

“I’m okay. Your hand--”

“I’m okay--” He assured you, but you flipped his hand over in your own anyways. It’s swollen. 

“You need ice.” You said, standing up and crossing to the freezer. 

“You need to sit down before you fall.” Aaron stood up to follow you, shaking his head. 

“I took my deep breaths, Hotch. I’m not an eighty year old woman.” You chastised him as you pulled a few ice cubes out of the freezer, putting them in a plastic bag and wrapping a paper towel around it. 

“My hand is fine.” He argued with you as you pressed the ice pack to his knuckles. 

“You are in absolutely no position to argue with me about letting someone else take care of you, hypocrite.” You fought back, with nothing but concern behind it. 

“Okay, fine, but can you sit down, please.” He begged of you. 

“Don’t I owe the rest of the team an explanation for all of that?” 

“They can wait. Sit down.” He said, and it was no longer a request. You sat down in the seat across from him. “How’s your head?” 

‘It’s been better.” You tell him honestly. 

“Take a few more deep breaths, please.” He tells you, and you roll your eyes. 

“Hotch, I’m--”

“You’re holding your breath. Your shoulders are practically touching your ears. Plus, it would make my hand feel better.” He says, shooting you a grin that would be wholly inappropriate for the situation if it didn’t make you feel so at ease.

You roll your eyes at him in mock-contempt, taking the breaths to appease him and dropping your shoulders. “How is your hand, seriously?” 

“I’m fine. I’ve thrown my fair share of punches.” He smirked at you, still trying to distract you, to lighten the mood. “We can just leave. You must need more pain meds, if not a nap. We don’t have to get into all of it today.” 

“Well, they all basically know now. We should probably just go to clear the air that I’m not sleeping with you for a promotion.”

“If you’re not up to it, we can--”

“No, Hotch.” You stand up, shaking your head at him through a smile. “Let’s go get it over with.” 

 The team, of course, didn’t need you to explain that all of what Josh had said was false. Your integrity and the trust shared between all of you was louder than any stupid asshole that could bluster in through those glass doors. You’d cried all of your makeup off, so your black eye was now fully exposed to the team. Aaron left a protective hand on the small of your back the whole time you spoke, never once speaking over you or interrupting. As soon as you finished, you felt silly for ever thinking you needed to hide this from them-- they were supportive without being pitying, and JJ, Emily and Garcia had wrapped you up in hugs just as soon as you finally got it all off your chest. 

“We’re going to head out, obviously call us if there’s an urgent case notification.” Aaron explained to the team. “You all should feel free to leave as soon as your paperwork is done.”

“Hotch, I’m really fine,” you tried to insist. 

“Are you gonna tell the team they have to keep working?” Aaron quirked an eyebrow at you and you scowled, knowing there was no going back now. “I’m just going to pack some of my stuff up.” He told you, turning back to his office. You followed suit, going to your desk and tidying up. 

“Hey, cupcake.” Morgan whistled to get your attention before crossing the bullpen to get to you. “If I had known--if I had seen that bruise on your face before he walked in here -- I would have taken him down myself. Hotchner showed an... impressive amount of restraint.” He told you with a humorless chuckle. 

“Thank you, Derek. But he’s not worth it, seriously.” You told him with a smile. 

“No, he’s not.” He agreed. “But you are. Don’t you forget that, okay? If you need anything, I’m here.” 

Instead of responding verbally, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck in a hug. He wrapped his arms around you snugly, crushing you into his chest. It hurt, a little, but the overwhelming security you found with him holding you was far stronger than any pain.

You pulled away and bid your goodnights to the team, following Aaron out to the car taking off towards his apartment. 

“You were really brave back there. I’m proud of you. As your friend, not your boss. Or, I guess as your friend and your boss.” He tells you, taking one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze yours briefly. 

“I didn’t really have much of a choice,” you rolled your eyes with a small smirk. 

“There’s always a choice. You chose to get out, and you chose to let your team in. That’s not nothing.” He told you as he parked the car in front of his place.

 “Thank you,” you said, choosing to accept the compliment even though you didn’t believe him. Aaron saw it in your eyes, but he let it slide. You’d see, eventually.  At her pace, he reminded himself. 

“I was thinking I’d cook tonight. Do you have anything particular in mind?” He asked as you settled into the apartment, hanging up your coats. 

“Aaron Hotchner, you can cook?” You laughed, turning around and beaming at him. He couldn’t help but return your smile. 

“I’m not Dave, but I manage.” He said coyly. 

“I’m sure whatever you make will be delicious.” You told him graciously. “And I’m very excited to try it.”

He tossed you an orange from the bowl of fruit on his counter, and then your pain meds. “Go take a nap.”

“Hotch, I’m---”

“Nope, I don’t want to hear it. I let you spend six hours squinting at screens and paperwork under fluorescents. None of that was good for your head. Go.” 

You rolled your eyes at him goodnaturedly before going to the guest room, stripping your work clothes off in favor of a pair of sweats and an FBI Academy t-shirt. Truth be told, everything that had gone down at work had been exhausting, and it wasn’t long before you fell asleep. 

[kywaslost]

Levi x Sick Reader

Warnings: being sick, vomiting

I may take requests for Levi, but I only really write comfort for him...

“Cadet L/N, you’re late,” Captain Levi called to your running form. You sprinted to your spot in the role call line, solluting to your captain.

“I’m sorry sir,” you apologized. “It will never happen again sir.” The man shot you a menacing glare.

“It better not.” He finished role call and started giving out the day’s events. “Run 60 laps and then move on to chores.” 

The soldiers responded with, “Yes sir!” and started on their laps.

“Accept you, Cadet L/N,” Levi commanded. You turned your attention towards him and ran over to him. He gave you a cold stare. “You will run until I tell you to stop.”

You gave a quiet upset sigh. “Yes sir.” You solluted before starting your laps. You watched as the other soldiers finished and started on their chores. A couple soldiers shot you sympathetic looka while the others either laughed or ignored you completely.

The sun beat down on your running body hours later. Your legs ached, a headache starting to form behind your eyes.

“Cadet!” You continued to run as Captain Levi called for you. “Take a drink of water, then get back to it. Don’t stall either or you’ll be running all night.” You nodded, slowing your pace.

“Thank you sir.” You walked into the mess hall to get a glass of water, downing it instantly. You then sighed as you started to go run laps again. This is going to be a long day.

Lunch rolled around and everyone was in the mess hall. You saw Captain Levi cross the area you were running and you were hopeful that he would let you eat. Without even speaking a word yourself, Levi answered your unasked question. “Keep going Cadet.” Your hopes smashed to the ground as you nodded, running past a few dying bushes.

Rain clouds rolled in a few hours later and you started to cry. All you wanted to do was eat and get some sleep. The reason you were late this morning is because you weren’t feeling well. You had a small headache and your throat was scratchy but you sucked it up and went to training. Now you knew for a fact that you were sick. You could tell you had a fever by the chills rambling your body even though it was easily over 100 degrees. Sweat poured down your face and into your eyes as you rubbed at your aching head.

“You’re still running?” a voice asked from beside you. Mikasa was jogging beside you.

You let out an airy, “Yeah.” Mikasa looked concerned.

“Do you feel alright? You’re looking paler than usual.” Raindrops soaked your uniform, making the fabric cling to your skin.

“Nah, I’m fine,” you wheezed. Mikasa sighed and stopped running, now walking over to the girl’s dorms. The heat mixed with the rain made the air very humid, which on top of that caused you to have trouble breathing. Captain Levi came to get you a few hours after dinner. The rain poured down even harder and the temperature had dropped drastically, now in the low 60s. The Captain had his cloak draped over his head and shoulders, shielding him from the rain. 

“Cadet!” he yelled. “You’re free to go.” You sighed as you stopped running. Your vision swam.

“Cadet?” The voice was closer this time. You sighed again as your body slammed into the mud, unconscious.

Levi walked over to his soldier. She had stopped running, but all she did was stand there. He was going to remind her not to be late again but he could see the way she swayed. “Cadet? He ran towards the girl as she fell into the mud. He dropped down behind her, shaking her shoulder. “Cadet!” He cursed to himself as he saw she wasn’t going to wake anytime soon. 

“Captain?” Armin and Eren ran over to Levi. “What’s going on? Do you need a medic?” Levi scowled.

“No, she’s alright,” he answered, picking up his soldier.

“What happened?” Eren asked worriedly.

“She passed out,” Levi answered again. “She will be alright.” Leaving the two boys behind, Levi brought his unconscious soldier to his bedroom. He placed her on his bed gently and slowly stripped her of her tan jacket and boots. He covered her with a thick blanket and left in search of Hanji.

Levi roughly slammed the door of the lab open as he made his presence known. He spotted the scientist almost immediately. “Hey four eyes,” he called. “I need your help.”

The brunette smiled up at him. “Sure. What do you need?” He scoffed at her enthusiasm.

“Cadet L/N is unconscious and soaked to the bone. I need you to change her out of the clothes she’s wearing now and into something dry and warm.” The woman looked concerned.

“Why is Y/N unconscious? Did something happen?” she asked worriedly.

“I’m not sure why yet, which is why I need you to get her into something dry. She is in my quarters when you’re ready. And try to make it quick, we can’t have a soldier get sick.” With that said, Levi left the lab and got to work on paperwork in his office.

Hanji came in not five minutes later with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. She walked through Levi’s office and into his bedroom. Levi didn’t look up until she came back into his office, arms full of soaking wet clothes. “She’s in dry clothes now. Mind telling me what’s going on?” she explained. Levi sighed.

“She was late this morning and I made her run. I honestly forgot she was out there until after dinner. She had been running in the rain for hours.” Levi had a distant look in his eyes. “Leave.” Hanji nodded and closed the door behind her. The Captain returned to his bedroom to see you still unconscious under the blankets. He took in how pale you looked and how you trembled under the thick blanket. Levi placed his hand on your head and quickly drew it back when he felt the heat radiating from you. He sighed as he went to get a bowl of cold water and a cloth. When he returned, he pulled a chair to his bed and dipped the cloth in the water. He gently wiped down your face with the cloth. He continued to do so as he soaked the cloth and tried to keep your temperature on the low.

He had just drained the cloth of most of its water and dabbed your face when you stirred and opened your eyes, drained of all energy. He pulled his hand back, surprised to see you awake. “Cadet?” he asked quietly. When you noticed he was sitting beside you, you quickly tried to sit up but he pushed you back down. “You need to relax, Cadet.” You looked around the room, confused.

“Captain?” you muttered. He pushed your head back down to rest on one of the pillows.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he confessed. “But I’m glad you’re awake. You need to eat. Wait here.” You watched as your captain left the room. Within minutes you had fallen back asleep again.

Levi walked in 20 minutes later with a tray holding two cups of steaming tea, toast, and soup. He smiled gently when he saw you fast asleep on his bed. He set the try on the bedside drawer and felt your temperature. He decided to let you sleep a bit more before waking you again. He shook your shoulder five minutes later.

“Cadet,” he said quietly. “Wake up L/N.” You stirred, groaning as you covered your eyes. Levi frowned. “Does your head hurt Cadet?” he asked. You nodded as you rolled onto your back. Levi didn’t show it but he felt bad for you. He felt as if this was his fault. He sighed, “I brought some soup, toast, and tea.” He helped you sit up slowly, propping you up against the pillows he stacked behind you. “It is important to stay hydrated when you are ill.”

You looked at the tray with the food, staring at it. Levi followed your gaze and picked up one of the cups of tea. “Here. It’s a special type of tea that helps with common aches and pains. It should help with your headache.” You took the cup with trembling hands. When you lifted the cup to your lips, the warm liquid flowed over your lips. It was soothing, at least it was before you started coughing. You coughed so hard you spilled tea down your shirt. Levi was quick to take the cup from your hands and place it back on the tray. He pulled a cloth from his jacket pocket and dabbed at the liquid dampening your face and torso. When the sputters of coughing fits wouldn’t stop he patted your back genty.

“Jesus Cadet,” he muttered. “You must not be feeling well at all.” When you finally managed to calm down, tears fell silently down your flushed cheeks. It hurt so much. Levi wiped the tears away. “There’s no need to cry, Cadet.” He then continued to wipe at the spilled tea. As he did so, the dots connected in your head and you realized you were in Levi’s room, in his bed. Your eyes widened.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry.” You started to cry again as you hid your face in your hands. Levi gave up on wiping away the tea when he heard your soft sobs.

“Don’t worry about it Cadet,” he responded as he pulled your hands away from your face. “You’re ill, I get it.” He then held the bowl of soup in his hands. He lifted the spoon to your mouth. “Eat.” Your eyes widened.

“T-There’s no need,” you stuttered. “I can feed myself.”

“Tch,” Levi scoffed. “You couldn’t drink your tea, so I’m going to feed you.” You blushed, not that anyone could tell though, as you nodded and accepted defeat. Levi continued to feed you until the bowl was empty. “Eat this toast,” Levi commanded as he handed the toast to you.

You shook your head. “I can’t,” you muttered. “I’m afraid I’ll get sick if I do.” Levi stood and picked up the trash bin in the corner.

“In that case, I’ll put this here.” He set the bin down beside the bed. He then pulled a t-shirt from a dresser and tossed it at you. You held the cloth in your hands.

“W-What’s this for?” you asked as you looked back up to your captain. He walked towards the door.

“You’re covered in tea. Now change your shirt.” He cracked the door as he left. You slowly pulled your soiled shirt over your head. That’s when you noticed that the clothes you were in weren't your uniform. You pulled Levi’s shirt over your head and layed down. Levi knocked before entering again. He took notice that you looked exhausted. He sat down in his chair, watching over you. “Rest Cadet,” he commanded. You didn’t need much convincing for that to happen. You closed your eyes and fell asleep.

As hours passed Levi sat in his office doing paperwork. The stacks of papers climbed higher and higher each day and he just wanted to get it all finished. The only noise that could be heard were the bugs outside and the sound of his pen gliding across all of the papers. It was almost three in the morning when another sound could be heard. Levi quickly ran into his bedroom to see you vomiting up the food you had eaten earlier into the trash can he had set down. He quickly got on the bed behind you and pulled back your hair. The heat coming from the back of your neck was worse than when he left just hours ago. 

When you had finally stopped emptying the contents of your stomach you cried. Levi shushed you quietly as he picked up the nearly dried cloth and used it to wipe at your mouth. “Calm down Cadet, you’re fine,” he said gently. “You’ll be alright.” He propped you up against the headboard and turned your head to face him. “Do you feel like you’ll be sick again?” You shook your head slowly.

“No,” you said through tears. “I’m good.” Levi slowly got off the bed so he wouldn’t upset your stomach any more than it already was.

“I’m going to clean this out. I’ll be right back.”

Levi returned not long after he left. His heart melted slightly when he walked in to see you still sitting up except this time your legs were pulling to your chest. You were shivering violently even though sweat covered your face. “Cadet…” Levi said quietly. He picked up a spare cloth and soaked it in the water. He ran the rag gently over your face, nose, and neck. “You need to rest.” You looked at him with bloodshot eyes.

“Sleep?” you questioned weakly. Levi nodded.

“Yes, sleep.”

“Captain?”

“Yes.”

“Stay here?” You were already dozing off again as Levi helped you lay back down. He smiled slightly and pulled off his jacket, cloak, boots, and straps.

“Of course.” He sat down beside you on the bed. You rested your head against his side as he picked up a book, opening it to where he left off. Before you were completely asleep, you registered one last thing. You could feel Levi press a gentle kiss on the side of your head as he said, “Feel better soon Cadet.”

[noladyme]

As It Should Be - A Raymond Smith One Shot

Raymond is the perfect gentleman, with a perfect home, and very settled habits. One of those habits had become to cancel dates at the last minute; and in stead spend the night in with his girl.

Now, she's had enough, and decides to challenge him on it, doing everything she can, to get on his nerves. The result is much more interesting than she'd anticipated.

Hell hath no fury like a girlfriend of a gentleman gangster, who has been stood up one too many times.

Ray had given me a key a few months before, during dinner at our favorite steakhouse – his backyard. We’d been celebrating 6 months together, and he’d handed me a small wrapped box, with a pretty bow tied around it. He’d most likely used a ruler to get the paper and the ribbon exactly the sizes he needed, to make it look as perfect as possible. His perfectionism both drove me mad, and turned me on immensely.

My hands had been shaking, partly in fear – I was no near ready for any diamond rings – but Ray had given me a slight smile. “Don’t worry, darling”, he said. “Nothing near as serious as you’re worried it might be”. “You telling me we’re not serious, Raymond?”, I replied snarkily. “Just open it, love”, he said.

Inside the tiny packet lay a golden key. “It’s for the house”, Ray said. “I want you to be able to come and go as you please… Just don’t try to break in to any locked freezers”. I raised a brow at him. “Is this because you don’t like my flat?”, I asked. “I know you have issues with council estates…”. “You spend most nights here anyway”, Ray said. “Look, I’m not asking you to move in… Unless you want to of course”. I laughed at his amused expression. “You wouldn’t last a week with me in the house!”, I said. “First time I use the wrong glass for red wine, or leave water stains on the bathroom mirror; you’ll go mad”. Ray blinked – his little adorable tick. “No, I won’t”. I tugged at his beard, and smiled. “Yes you will”.

Ray pressed the key into my hand. “Just… keep this, alright? The house feels more like a home when you’re here”. I leaned towards him, and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “I didn’t get you anything…”, I blushed. “That’s alright”, Ray smiled. “You can give me head in the shower later”.

I had used the key on more than one occasion – admittedly preferring Ray’s more comfortable bed to my own lumpy mattress in my one-bedroom rental. And both Ray and me had enjoyed when I’d been waiting for him in it, naked and ready to help him relax after a tense day of whatever it was Mickey had him doing all over London. Tonight, my plan was different.

Ray had cancelled four dates in a row, just as I was about to leave the house. He’d call just as I would be about to put on my shoes. “I’m so sorry, love. Work ran late. I’ll have Bunny pick you up, drop you at the house, yeah?”. And once again, I’d end up waiting for Raymond in his house, in my pretty dress; until he’d show up – an hour later – with a bouquet of roses or a pair of earrings too expensive for the queen, takeout from some fancy restaurant; and an apologetic smile on his face.

I was beginning to wonder whether Ray didn’t want to be in public with me. I wasn’t the kind if woman he’d usually meet while wining and dining lords and ladies all over England. Maybe my teacher’s salary and fondness of things like public transport – he’d practically begged me to let him get me a car, which I’d declined vehemently – was becoming too lower class to him. I decided to challenge him on it – and maybe, just maybe, I wanted to punish Ray just a little bit, for cancelling our plans for the hundredth time.

This time, I was ready. Ray called, on cue, just as I was about to slip on my shoes. “I’m so sorry, love…”, he began. “It’s alright, Ray. I understand”, I said. “I’ll pick up dinner on the way”. Ray paused for a moment. “I don’t want you waiting in some restaurant alone”, he said. “Don’t worry, babe. Bunny will be there”, I replied. “Tell you what. You can pick up the wine”. “Ripasso?”. I heard the smile in his voice. “You know me, I’m not choosey. Just make it red”, I said. “See you soon”, Ray said, and with after a few more warm words, we said goodbye, and hung up.

Bunny gave me large grin as I jumped into the back seat of the large Mercedes, dressed in leggings, a hoodie, and a smug expression. “Hello, Bunny”, I said. “We need to make a stop”. “Of course, miss. Where?”, he asked. “McDonalds drive-through”, I said. Bunny’s smile became impossibly bigger. “Ray is in for it, isn’t he…?”, he asked. “You fucking know it”, I smiled, and leaned back in my seat.

Once inside the house, I began my preparations. My first stop after kicking off my shoes and setting down the bag of food in the kitchen, was in Rays closet. I checked to see Fletcher wasn’t hiding in it, as he’d done once before; and then went through the collection of shirts. I chose a white Armani, shrugged of my hoodie; and put it on. For an extra touch, I left the closet door open, mussed up the sheets on the bed, and threw the duvet and a pillow on the floor. Next up was the bathroom. I opened the lid to the toilet, washed up – making sure to spray some water on the mirror – and dropped the towel on the floor, once I’d wiped my hands.

I dropped my hoodie on a chair in the hallway, and made my way to the kitchen. Being a big fan of Rays espresso machine, I made myself an americano, poured it into a tea mug – drank half of it – and left the mug in the sink. I took out two plates, carrying them over to the coffee table. I chose the actual silver silverware from the drawer, and put it by the plates.

With a few final touches, and after touching up my makeup, I sat down in one of leather recliners, and put my feet up – waiting for Raymond to come home. It wasn’t long before I heard his keys turn in the lock, and I readied myself for a potential catastrophe. I heard his footsteps in the hallway, and got up to stand. “Darling?”, he called out. “Something smells… deep fried”. I heard him stumble for a moment, probably over my sneakers on the floor. “I’m in here”, I said, and went to meet him in the kitchen – knowing his usual route when he got home.

Ray looked as dapper as ever, in a tweed jacket, a vest, and a pair of dark grey slacks. He looked mildly annoyed about having tripped over my shoes; and was holding a bottle of wine in one hand, and a wrapped box from Selfridges. When he saw my relaxed attire, he looked confused.

“I love when you wear my shirts, but that’s…”. “Armani. I know", I said, and tugged at it. “It’s very comfortable“.

Ray shrugged, put down the wine, went over to slip an arm around me, and kissed me deeply. I was finding it difficult to keep my composure, as I stood pressed against his firm frame; and inhaled his scent. “I brought you something… to apologize", he said, and handed me the beautifully adorned box. “You didn’t have to, Ray", I said, and suppressed the urge to open it; in stead tossing it on the kitchen island. He looked at me with narrowed eyes, and I kissed his cheek. “Dinner’s ready. Go wash up". Raymond stole another kiss, and squeezed my bottom, before going back out into the hallway, and towards the bathroom.

“Is this your sweater in the hallway?”, Ray called out to me, as he passed it. “Probably”, I responded. “You don’t usually wear hoodies”. “You could hang it…”, he said. “Never mind, I’ll do it”. I smiled to myself, imagining his grumpy face as he hung my 15 quid hoodie, next to his own Burberry trench on the coatrack.

Once Ray returned from the bathroom, I was sipping some of the delicious red wine, from one of the cognac glasses. Ray didn’t say a word about the state I’d left his bathroom in, but he did twitch at my choice of glass. “Something wrong?”, I asked sweetly. “Nothing at all”, he said, and tried for a smile. I handed him a glass of his own, and he struggled with not holding it in his palm, as he would have, had it been filled with brandy. I clinked my glass to his, and smiled. “Everything alright with work? What made you late?”, I asked. “A meeting with some people… Nothing that would interest you”, Raymond said, and turned towards the counter, noticing the half full mug of coffee in the sink. “I’m happy you’re making yourself at home”, he grunted, and peeked out the corner of his eyes at me. “Well, you told me to…”, I said, and linked my fingers with his.

Rays eyes twinkled, and he leaned in for another kiss; parting his lips, to deepen it. His tongue probed for entry to my mouth, but I pulled back. “Let’s eat”, I said, and walked towards the living room area. “I’ll set the table”, Ray said. “I already did”, I smiled. He looked confusedly at the dining table. “We eating outside?”, he asked. “No. I set us up over here”, I said casually, and threw myself on the couch; patting the seat next to me. Ray looked flabbergasted. “I have this lovely dining table…”, he tried. “Bring the wine”, I said, ignoring his words.

Ray sat down next to me, and filled my glass. I picked up the paper bag of food, and began distributing burgers and fries on the plates. “I got chili cheese tops and chicken wings as well”, I said. “Eat up”. I picked up the knife and fork, and began cutting into my burger. “That’s a … salad fork”, Ray said, his voice choked. “There’s salad in the burger”, I shrugged. Ray looked at me incredulously, as I dipped a few fries in my ketchup, and then – deliberately – let some of it fall and stain his shirt I was wearing. “Woops”, I said, and grabbed a napkin, beginning to dab at the stain. “Fuck, darling. That’s dry clean only!”, Ray sighed. “I’ll get it out… maybe some bleach”, I said. His eyes widened.

“What’s going on with you?”, he asked. “Nothing", I said, feigning confusion. I took a big bite from my burger, using the silver salad fork to put it there. “Yum". Ray took the fork from me, just as I was about to take another bite. “What are you doing?", I frowned “Why are you testing me?”, he demanded. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean, babe", I said. “I’m just enjoying a date with my darling”. “In a stained Armani shirt, and leggings?”, Raymond said. I shrugged. “It wasn’t like we were going out anyway". “I had reservations at…”, he began. I blew a raspberry at him, catching him completely of guard. “Like there was ever a chance we’d use those", I said.

Raymond’s eyes finally lit up in understanding. “You’re angry that I was late, and we had to change plans tonight". “Tonight?”, I sneered. “Try the last… five dates we were supposed to go on". Ray pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath. “I see… This isn’t how I’d seen the evening going either, love". “Sure it was", I said, getting up from the couch with my cognac glass of wine in hand. I took off my socks, and walked over towards the door to the yard. I opened it, and threw my socks outside. Ray got up behind me, in shock. “Its fine, really. I don’t mind the fact that you don’t want to be seen in public with me. That I’m not worth enough to be taken out somewhere nice”. Using a chair as a step, I walked onto the dining table, and made a little catwalk back and forth. Ray looked equal parts terrified, astounded and enraged. “This way, I can show you how truly at home I feel here".

“Please get off the table", he croaked. “No”, I said, taking a sip of my wine. “Please", Ray tried again, obviously trying to control himself. “Not happening", I said. I stopped my leisure stroll back and forth, and looked Raymond square in the face. We were both quiet, and it was like a standoff in one of those old western movies. “Get off the fucking table, or else…”, Ray said, patience clearly wearing thin. “Or else… what?”, I challenged him.

Though enjoying my little game, I was also beginning to fear that I was digging myself into a bigger hole than I could get out of. Raymond’s eyes were on fire, but I thought I could see something behind the rage – something quite intriguing. I decided to keep my game going. Either Ray would kick me out on my ass, or something else would happen; something much more fun. Either way, I’d have some sort if closure. “I will spank you six ways from Sunday", he said. I hadn’t expected that. “Is that a promise?”, I asked, not sounding remotely as confident as I’d hoped to.

As I lifted the glass to my lips again – all the time keeping my eyes on Ray’s – I shifted my fingers, so that I was palming it in my hand. Ray blinked again, twitching from my teasing.

Suddenly he made a jolt forwards, as if launching himself at me, and I almost fell of the table as I stumbled backwards. Looking down myself, I realized some of the red wine had splashed onto his shirt. “You made me spill my wine!”, I said. “Last fucking chance, darling”, Ray said, walking towards me; almost on the prowl. “We gonna dance now?”, I said. I walked to the middle of the table again – downed my drink – and used my toes to push the bowl of fruit towards the edge. Ray caught it just as it toppled over.

He walked over to the kitchen island, put down the bowl, and calmly took of his jacket; before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. He walked over to the head of the table, cleared his throat; and set down his palms on it – his eyes dark. “Right. This is going to hurt me more than it will you”, he declared, before pouncing on me; catching my legs, and throwing me over his shoulder. He gave me a hard spank over the ass. “Will you behave now?”. “No!”, I yelled. He set me down, and turned me around by the shoulders; forcing my upper body down over the table, with a hand pressed down between my shoulder blades. I could honestly say I’d never been more turned on in my life.

“I asked you nicely, and you still acted like an imp”, he said. He used his free hand to pull down my leggings, exposing my panty-clad bottom; and as I kicked my legs, he removed them completely. “Impish behavior demands punishment”. He delivered a hard smack on my left cheek. “Ow!”, I yelled, trying to wrestle myself away from him. “You’re spanking me like a child, now?”. Ray leaned to hold me down with his whole arm. “Well, if you’re going to behave like a child…”, Ray said, and spanked my right cheek. His hand rubbed over my skin afterwards, almost soothingly. “You’re the one who should be punished!”, I growled. “You’ve been cancelling all our plans lately”. Ray spanked me on the left cheek again. “That’s what you’re doing? Punishing me?”, he asked. He gave my right cheek another smack. “When all I’m doing is keeping you happy… getting you flowers and presents; telling you to make yourself at home in this nice house… Oh, no; love. I’m a fucking prince to you”. “Yeah, I’m really feeling my princess Di fantasy here!”, I scoffed.

Raymond began spanking both my cheeks in turn. I let out yelps and whimpers at each hit; as they sent signals straight to my core. “This is for the silverware (smack)… This is for throwing the towel on the floor (smack)… For the glasses (smack)… For leaving your shoes about for me to trip over (smack)… And this (smack), is for walking all over my dining table on your bare feet (smack)…”. I was struggling in vain to get free; and at the same time wanted this torture to never end. His fingers ghosted my covered folds, and I drew in a short breath. Ray pulled me up to stand, and raised a brow, as he looked down at me. “Now, will you behave?”. “Not in a million fucking years”, I said.

Before he could catch me, I sprang towards the kitchen island, crawling on to it. Ray caught my ankle, but I managed to get free; and got down on the other side – the island now a barrier between us. I smiled wickedly. I grabbed the half full mug form the sink, and held it up as to spray the coffee at him. “Careful, Raymond. I know how you dislike getting dirty”, I smirked. “I’ll show you how fucking dirty I can get, babe", Ray growled, and sprang over the island, making me drop the mug back into the sink in pure shock.

Ray pulled me into his arms, pinning my arms down at my sides, and attacking my lips with a feverish kiss. I didn’t struggle now; my body responding by completely giving in to lust. After a moment of passionately kissing me, Ray let me go; and ripped open the shirt. “You ruined my shirt”, he growled, and pulled it off me; leaving me in my bra and panties. He was still impeccably dressed himself. The mix of his warm body and the cool fabric of his vest pressing against my naked skin was heaven. I began leaning against Ray, and bit my lip with a smirk. He shook his head. “You want to use things the way they’re not supposed to be used? Fine. Get your ass on that counter”.

My jaw dropped. Sex with Raymond was always thrilling, and we’d enjoyed these sessions, not only in his – and a few times my – bed, the backseat of his car, and in the shower; but also, one time in a fitting room, where Ray had come with me to help chose a dress for a job interview at a private school. I made the mistake of bending over with my back to him; and suddenly found myself pressed against the wall, with Ray covering my mouth with his hand, to muffle my moaning as he screwed me into oblivion. I hadn’t gotten the job, but I did gain a memory for life. In spite of this, we’d never had sex in his kitchen. Ray had this obsession with keeping everything in his home as it should be, and I had a feeling that it might be because he needed to control at least some things in his otherwise quite unpredictable life.

I gave myself a second to feel bad for having disrupted his perfect home base; before he lifted me up to sit on the kitchen island. He snatched a pair of scissors out of a drawer, pulled out the fabric of my panties, and cutting through them at my hips. “You bought me these!”, I said. “I don’t care”, he growled. “I’ll get you some new ones”. He ripped the ruined panties of me, and looked down at the apex of my thighs. The cool wooden surface against my bottom made the sting from the spanking subdue, and I shifted to get more comfortable. The moment seemed to drag out forever, as Ray just looked at me. He took a deep breath. “Don’t move”.

Ray left the room for a moment, and then returned; having poured himself a proper glass of probably very expensive scotch. Leaning back against the counter opposite me, crossing his legs; he took a sip of the drink, and commenced his staring at me. “I have to say, that is the most appetizing piece of meat laid out in my kitchen in a long time”, he said. “Ray…”, I said, feeling myself melt under his gaze. A wicked smile ghosted his face, when suddenly his phone buzzed in his pocket. He leisurely took it out, and picked up the call.

“Yes?... Handled it this morning. Meeting’s set up for tomorrow afternoon… No, you didn’t interrupt anything, boss. Just preparing dinner…”. He began strolling calmly around the kitchen, and I didn’t dare move. “I was about to ask her, but she’s a bit preoccupied at the moment… I’m sure she’d love to, count on us…”. He took another sip of his scotch, and then held the glass to my lips; seemingly for me to taste. As I opened my mouth, he pulled the glass back, and dribbled some of the amber liquid down my chest instead. I frowned, and parted my lips to speak; but Ray set down the glass, and held a finger to my lips. “Will we be needing extra security…? I’ll take care of it… Yes, of course, I’ll wait…”.

With the phone still to his ear, Raymond licked the trail of scotch on my skin, from my collarbone, down to the top of my breast. My breath hitched at the sensation of his hot tongue. Just as he was about to move the cup of my bra down, to go for my nipple, he stepped back again. “Yes, I’m here… Did he…? Well, he’s a right cunt, but consider it handled… I’ll keep you in the loop. Goodnight, boss. Give my best to Rosalind”.

He hung up the phone, and put it on the counter next to me. His fingertips travelled over my thighs; avoiding my warmth. “Sorry about that, but you know how it is”, he said. “Now where were we…?”. “You were wasting a 1000-pound scotch on my tits”, I jeered. “1500”, Ray said. “And I wouldn’t call it wasted”. He took another sip of the scotch, but before he swallowed it, he put his lips to mine; letting me have a taste. “What was that about you not being worth enough? I usually don’t baste my meat in expensive whiskey”.

He put his hands on my ass, and made me scoot forwards on the counter. His fingers travelled down my belly, and finally met my folds; dipping in between them. I drew in a ragged breath, as he slid his fingers up and down. “Let’s have a taste”, he said, and removed them again, putting them into his mouth. “Sweet, bit tangy, perfectly moist”. He dipped his fingers again, this time letting one of them dip in to the knuckle, and crook upwards. I threw my head back, and closed my eyes. He removed the finger again, and I groaned. “Quit with the games, Ray”, I complained. “You started this, love”, he said. “I’m just finishing it”. “Then, bloody finish it!”, I retorted.

Raymond stepped back, corrected his glasses, and clicked his tongue chidingly. “Now, now. No need to be greedy. We’ve got all night. As you said, dinner plans are out the window”, he said. “Fine. I wasn’t hungry anyway”, I said. He raised a brow at me. “No? Let’s see if we can wake that appetite”. He thrusted two fingers into me, and used his free hand to get me to lie back; before moving it down to brush against my clit. “Please…”, I whimpered. “Please, what? Forgive me, Ray? I’ll never be a brat again, Ray?”. He thrusted his fingers upwards, touching my sensitive spot inside, as he began rubbing circles on my nub. “No…”, I said, not wanting to give in. I struggled to keep my composure, but as Ray began thrusting harder, and stroked deliciously at me, I was soon too far gone to speak. “I’m…”. “That’s what I thought”, Ray said calmly. I clambered to hold on to something, put found nothing but a rolling pin; which fell to the floor, making a clanking sound to accompany my own cry of passion, as I came.

Ray gently withdrew his fingers, wiped them of in a handkerchief from his pocket; and took my hand for me to sit up. “All good?”, he asked, his face not giving away an ounce of emotion. His pants were giving away enough, though; as the bulge on the front of them had grown quite a bit. “Living room”, he ordered, and as I got off the counter, and walked towards the door, he turned around, and quickly washed the mug in the sink. “Tea mug for coffee. Honestly…”, I heard him mutter.

As I stood in the dimly lit living room alone, waiting, I shivered from the chill entering through the still open door to the back yard. “Ray?”, I called out. “Coming, darling”, he responded, and he came through the doorway; walking over to the patio door, and closing it. He gestured at me to get over to the couch. “Knees”. He was carrying the whiskey-glass, and refilled it. “Don’t I get one?”, I asked. “No… I said; knees”. He sat down on the couch, legs spread casually, and looked on, as I got down on my knees in front of him. The elitist machismo in the room, was thick enough to carve with a butter-knife. “How’s the appetite?”. “Getting there”, I admitted. “Well, bon apetit”, Ray said, and gestured towards his crotch.

I rested my elbows on his thighs, and unbuttoned his pants; pulling down the zipper. Ray made no move to help me unwrap his erection, so I went on to pull down the elastic of his boxer-briefs as well. He let out a silent grunt, when I wrapped my hand around him; and I smiled at his respond to my touch. I began stroking the velvety skin on his hardness; and Ray took a sip of his drink as he watched me. I stuck out my tongue, and flicked the tip over the sensitive spot under the head; before flattening it, and sucking him into my mouth. Ray tasted as good as he looked and smelled. A perfectly expensive taste, with an undertone of something animal – dangerous even. I bobbed my head up and down, hollowing my cheeks to make my pull on his penis tighter. Putting my hand into his bowers, I managed to get his testicles over the elastic as well. This made me able to massage them gently; rolling them in my palm the way I knew he liked.

My vagina was still sensitive from Rays former treatment, so when he leaned forwards, ran a hand down my back – between my cheeks – and slid a finger between my folds; I almost came from just that second of contact. Ray sat back again, and continued his viewing of my work on his cock. “Don’t stop on my account”, he said. I made a swallowing movement, and another stifled groan came from him. I hummed slightly; making vibrations to add to the sensation. I added pressure to his testicles, and felt them tighten in my hand. Apparently, Ray was even more impacted by my treatment, than his face gave of. I released him from my mouth with a pop, and smiled sweetly up at him. “Enjoying yourself, Raymond?”, I asked. He cupped my chin. “You know I am, darling”, he smiled. “But it seems to me, you are as well”. I nodded, and bit my lip.

I went back to sucking him off, while he finished his drink. I could tell he was struggling not to grab on to me, so I took his free hand, and put it on my head. At first, he simply ran his fingers through my hair; but then held on to it, and began controlling my movements. I let go of his testicles, and held on to his thighs, as I let him take charge of me. Ray led me to take him shallowly; then pressed me as far down as I could take him. After a few minutes, he couldn’t keep quiet anymore, and let out audible grunts and gasps, accompanied by a series of fuck, babe and that’s perfect, darling. With one final deep push, his cock twitched; and he came in my mouth – holding me there until he was completely finished. He let go of me, and I sat back on my heels; swallowing.

Ray took a moment to calm his breathing, before getting on his feet, and helping me to stand in front of him. He put himself back into his pants, and led me in front of him, towards the bedroom. I knew we’d end up there at some point; and suddenly felt a chill down my spine, when I remembered the state, I’d left the room in. Before he could open the door, I stopped him. “Ray… Uhm…”, I started. “What?”, he asked. “I sort of left a mess in there… The closet…”. “Fletcher wasn’t in it again, was he?”, Ray growled. “No, nothing like that…”, I said. He gently pushed me out of the way, and opened the door; stepping inside, and turning on the lights. “The fuck…”, he said from inside. I moved up behind him. “At least I didn’t spill ketchup on anything…”, I tried.

Ray began removing his vest and shirt, not saying a word all the while. I was worried – and at the same time hoping – that I was in for another spanking. I went to sit on the bed, and heard Ray open his belt behind me. “No", he said calmly. I turned to face him, and saw he was shedding his pants and boxer briefs. Undressed, Ray was no less regal. He might as well be wearing a dinner jacket, and holding a glass of port. As it was, he was naked as the day he was born, standing proud and fit. I sent a thankful thought to his personal trainer; or, Coach, as I knew him. Ray put his clothes in the hamper, removed his glasses, and placed them on the dresser in the spot he always did.

“Seeing as you’ve thrown half the bedding on the floor, we might as well start there”, he said. “But the bed is right there…”, I said, slipping an arm around his torso. I ran my hand up his chest, and back down, running my nails through Rays pubic hair – as always, well groomed, and blonde as his head. He raised a brow at me, and caught my wrist, as I was about to take a hold of his penis. “And the red wine glasses were right within reach too, but you still chose something else", he said. “You asked for this, love. Its upside down-day".

With a swoop of his arm, Ray had me on the floor, and he patted my hip to make me roll onto my stomach. Once there, he gave me hard smack over my bottom. “Lift", he ordered, and when I did, he took the pillow; putting it under my hips, so my ass was raised in the air, and my chest against the duvet covered floor. I looked back over my shoulder, and saw Ray kneeling behind me. The view of my bottom and wetness had made him hard again, within record time; and he stroked himself a few times, while he probed my entrance with his fingertips. Stroking my cheeks with his free hand, he then gave me one more hard spank. With a firm hold on himself and one of my hips, he pushed into me; bottoming out with the first thrust.

“Oh, my… fuck!”, I cried out. Ray stroked my back up and down gently, and then spanked me again. “I thought my spanking was over”, I whimpered. Ray leaned over me, to kiss my neck, and speak into my ear. “Why would I stop, when you keep making those delicious little squeaks every time I do?”. He smacked me one more time, and I whimpered loudly. “There we are".

He began moving his hips, the blunt tip of his cock rubbing perfectly against my front wall. I rolled my lower body, and with the pillow under my hips, my back was perfectly arched to make the sensation of Ray inside me more intense than ever. Ray kissed and nibbled at the sweet spot on my neck, as he moved in and out of me. “You taste better than a Big Mac, any day of the week”, he chuckled. His warm breath against my skin, sent small jolts to my warmth, and I moaned wantonly. I clenched the muscles in my tunnel around him; knowing that it was one of his favorites among my tricks. “Fuck, you know what that does to me, love…”, he croaked. I repeated the action, and Ray let out a choked moan.

He placed a hand on either side of me, and held himself up to thrust shallowly, before bottoming out again. I craved his closeness, and tried lifting my body to have his chest against my back; but Ray pushed me down. He took each of my wrists in one hand, holding them behind my back, and grabbed a handful of my hair – holding on tightly, as he forced me against the floor. I was completely at Raymond’s mercy in this position. I couldn’t move my arms, lift my back or my head; and he had placed his knees between mine – making it impossible for me to put my legs together. All this brute dominance, and his casual upper-crust demeanor, had me feeling like I was in sex-paradise.

He went back to shallow thrusts, and then one deep one, trying to make me reach my climax by stimulating my g-spot. Soon after, he was successful; heat rose from my feet and all through my body, and I felt my walls contract. I cried out in extasy. I heard Raymond groan, trying to hold back his own orgasm; apparently not finished with me yet.

After I’d settled around him, Ray pulled out. “I’d love to shag you in the backyard now, but its late, and cold; so, if you don’t mind, let’s go for the bed", he said. “That works", I agreed, though my body was still convulsing. Ray leaned down and left small kisses up my spine. “Do you need to stop?”, he asked softly. “No! Please…”, I pleaded. I managed, with Raymond’s help, to get onto the bed; my legs shaking, and breath ragged. Ray grabbed the pillow and duvet, and quickly made the bed up properly; an impressive feat, as my exhausted body was splayed out on it. He got under the duvet with me, and gently spread my legs, to lay between them.

Hooking a leg around Ray’s hips, I pulled him towards me. “I think you’ve learnt your lesson, now”, he smiled, and stroked my cheek gently. I put a hand behind his head, and lifted my head to catch his lips with my own. Our tongues stroked softly against each other, and I let out a content sigh. “Soft finish?”, I smiled. Ray lifted his head, and raised a brow at me. “Fuck no”, he declared.

Suddenly, both my knees were hooked over his shoulders, and he pushed into me with a groan. My eyes rolled back into my head, as Ray began thrusting hard and fast into me; without mercy. Every thrust felt like it reached the deepest parts of me. Gone was the well-groomed gentleman dom. Ray was a wild animal, his jaw clenched, and pupils blown. His hands were holding on to my breasts, making his arms force my thighs together. I was sure that I would have bruises on both my breasts and my thighs from his attack, could not give less of a fuck; from the extreme orgasm that was building in my core. Crying out wasn’t enough; I screamed Ray’s name so loud, I was sure his neighbors would show up with noise complaints. In his current state, I was convinced he’d probably meet them in the door naked, telling them to either get in and enjoy the show, or fuck right off.

I grabbed his biceps, and dug my nails into his skin, leaving my own marks on my lover. My legs stretched out, and every muscle in my body tightened, as I exploded. Ray growled from my walls tightening around him, and the pain my nails were surely bringing him. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes burrowing into mine. My orgasm was at its peak, and my voice hit a pitch I didn’t know it could. Ray kept thrusting, and the feeling was getting so intense, I was unsure whether or not I’d pass out before long. “Please… I… Too much!”, I whimpered; as my body was thrusted back and forth from Ray’s movements. “Almost, baby. Keep going…”, he growled.

Just as I began thinking this is it. I’m going to die from too much orgasming, Raymond pounded into me three final times, and came inside me with a roar.

I was shaking as Ray dropped my legs from his shoulders, kissed my unmoving lips; and pulled out of me. He laid down next to me, and gave a me a crooked smile. “You still with me?”, he chuckled. “I just came… a lot!”, I croaked. “I could tell…”, he said, and moved a lock of my hair out of my face. “You’ll be happy to know, that so did I”. I laughed hoarsely.

“I should get cleaned up, before I get cum all over your Egyptian cotton sheets”, I sighed. “Fuck it. They were on sale”, Ray shrugged. I shook my head in mock confusion. “Excuse me?”, I said. “You bought something on sale?”. “Just keep it between us, love”, he said, and pulled me close, to kiss me. I tugged at his bottom lip with my teeth. “I still have to go pee”, I said. I crawled out of the bed, and made my way towards the door. “Please put the towel back on the hook, when you’re done washing your hands”, he called after me. I smirked at him over my shoulder.

Once I’d finished my business, I made my way back to the bedroom. Ray had already fixed up the bed, and left his spare robe for me over a chair. Putting it on, I searched for him; finding him clearing up the mess I’d made around the house. I leaned against the doorway, watching him. “I’m sorry”, I lied. “No, you’re not”, he said. After having put the plates in the dishwasher, he walked over to me, taking my hand and pulling me with him, to sit down on the couch; where earlier he’d been enjoying my lips around his cock. “And as much as I enjoyed screwing you senseless just now, I’d like to know where all this came from”.

I looked down at our joined hands. ”You’ve been avoiding going out with me”, I said. “I know I don’t fit in to your posh lifestyle, but…”. “That’s what this was about? Getting back at me?”, he asked. “Partly”, I admitted. “And I suppose I wanted to… make you see what I’m really like. So, you could make a decision to either accept me, or…”. “Finish it”, Ray finished my sentence for me. I nodded.

He sighed deeply. “Darling… First of all, the fact that you don’t give a shit about which fork to use, and throw your clothes around, annoys the hell out of me; and makes me love you even more”. I met his eyes, and let out a short breath. Raymond had never used that word before. “Love…?”, I whispered. “Fuck yes, I love you”, he smiled. “And you not only fit in my life, you’d leave one hell of a hole, if you left. So no, I don’t want to finish it. You’re not getting rid of me by feeding me fast food, and throwing your socks in my yard”.

I frowned. “Then, why are you always working late? Cancelling our plans?”, I asked. “Well, that is the second part of this conversation, I suppose”, he said. “I knew we’d get here at some point, but I’ve been putting it off… You know what I do, isn’t exactly legal”. “Of course I do”, I said. “It’s not normal to sleep with a .48 in the drawer of your bedside table”. Ray brushed his thumb over my knuckles, and continued. “We’ve been having some issues with another… organization, in town”, he said. “They’ve been making some threatening moves… I’m worried, that of you’re seen with me, they’ll try to use you to get to me”. My jaw dropped. “As in… They’d kill me?”, I croaked. “I don’t think they’d go that far, but I’m not willing to take that chance”, Ray said firmly.

I took a few moments to think. “Ray… you can’t keep me locked up in this house”, I said. “I’m more than happy to do what you ask me to keep safe; but at some point, I’d like to get out… make all those posh cunts jealous of my arm candy”. I tugged gently at his beard, winking at him. “Who says you’re not the arm candy, darling?”, he smiled. “What, in my 20 quid H&M dresses, and worn shoes?”, I scoffed.

Ray stood up, and led me into the kitchen. He grabbed the wrapped box. “Actually, that’s why I got you this”, he said, and handed it to me. “Now, that was quite a bit more than 20 quid, but I’m sure you’ll look just as lovely in it, as you do in everything else you wear”. I blushed, and began unwrapping the box, opening the lid, to reveal a beautiful cocktail dress; in my exact size. “I don’t have anywhere to wear this!”, I said. “And it’s too expensive to keep at my flat. I’ll get robbed. I had to buy a lockbox for those earrings you got me”. “Michael has a birthday-party coming up next weekend. His wife will have my bollocks, if I don’t show; with a date”, Raymond said. “So, I can’t cancel on you this time”.

I took out the dress, and held it against me. “Bringing me as your date for your boss’ party… that’s pretty official, love”, I smiled. “It is, and it’s about time”, Ray responded. “And as far as where to store it…”. He tilted his head, and looked pleadingly. “Please leave that rat infested hell hole of a flat, and move in here permanently. I have to take a shower every time I come home from that place”. “It’s not that bad”, I said. “My next-door neighbor bakes me cookies every Christmas”. “And the one further down the hall, sells smack out of his trunk”, Ray retorted.

I bit my lip. “You really want me here? With my novelty mugs, and sneakers littering the hallway?”. “Absolutely”, Ray assured me. “Gives me ample opportunity to shag you on every surface we didn’t make it to tonight”. “Even the table in the backyard?”, I grinned. “We’ll have to make sure the grill isn’t so hot, you burn your perfect ass”, he said. “What do you say…?”. “Fuck it. Why not…?”.

Ray smiled warmly, and wrapped me in his arms. “Just for future reference; I prefer Burger King over Mickey D’s”.

--- 

[juniorgman187]

Things We Know By Heart (Spencer Reid Fluff)

Summary: Reader teaches Spencer how to slow dance in preparation for his wedding. The only problem? Reader’s in love with Spencer, and she isn’t the bride. 

A/N: S/O to Kyla who bullied me throughout all of elementary school. Ik you’ve probably changed since then, but you literally traumatized and tormented me for more than six years of my life. So I felt like including you in this story as, “Kayla,” Spencer’s fiancé. Tehe, I’m petty like that.  Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff Word Count: 6.5k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

I think we’d all like to believe that somewhere out there is our person. And somehow, someway, they’ll get to where they need to go, right where they belong. 

With us. 

That’s what I’d like to believe. 

I’d like to think that no matter what happens along our journeys to each other, we’ll arrive at the same destination regardless. 

But that isn’t necessarily true, is it? 

Because maybe, my soulmate got lost along the way. They met somebody great, someone they think is their person, and they married that person. They had kids and eventually, grandkids with that person, even though, deep down - they knew it wasn’t right. They stayed with them anyway because their fear of being alone superseded their fear of being with the wrong person for life. 

And what am I to do when that happens? When my person finds a different person. 

Am I supposed to believe that the universe will be so kind as to give my soulmate the courage to leave their relationship behind and forge a new one with me? 

Am I supposed to expect that the world will supply me with another person, the person I’m supposed to marry? 

Or do I simply wait for my person to come to the conclusion that they’re meant to be with me after all and my naive entitlement to a soulmate is validated?

Is life really that magical? 

This is the story of what happens when your person loves a different person.

∙•○⦾☉☼☉⦾○•∙

With his hand at the nape of my neck to support my head and his other hand flat against the small of my back, he dipped me backward, leaning with me as I arched my back and bent the leg closest to the crowd, pointing my foot to elongate my leg artistically. This was our ending position so I remained in it until the song ended. The two of us bowed to thank the audience and to conclude our performance. Roses fell at our feet while the sound of applause echoed in the room. I was never a fan of being the center of attention, but there was something about this overwhelming praise that was particularly blissful. It was intoxicating. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance like that.” I gushed to my partner; my cheeks growing pink from the heat and the head rush I got. 

He positioned his mouth right beside my ear so I could hear his words clearly over the rowdy cheering. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Princess.” said Morgan.

A gauntlet formed to clap for us both when we walked off the dance floor. Hand-in-hand, Morgan led me back to the table through the double file line of people. The team howled with excitement when they saw me and Morgan approaching.

“So this is what you two were keeping a secret from us? That you’re dance partners?” JJ had to ask. 

“Yep. All those late nights and secret rendezvous.” Morgan said, shimmying his shoulders be suggestive of a sexual innuendo, which I was not a fan of. Out of mock offense, I chucked a small towel at him with a grouchy command to “Shut up!” 

He took the towel to the face like a champ, laughing it off and dabbing his sweat away. 

“I don’t know who was sexier up there - Princess or my Hubba Hubba!” Garcia squealed pretending to claw at Derek, reeling him over towards her. 

“You looked like a natural up there, Y/N. Were you a dancer before?” Prentiss questioned while handing me a glass of water that I desperately gulped down. 

“My mom sent me to dance classes as soon as I could walk.” I jokingly explained after gathering my hair into a makeshift ponytail and lifting it off of my neck, cocking my head to the side and fanning the back of my neck to cool down. 

“Maybe you should teach Reid how to dance before the wedding. He’s got two left feet and I don’t think he wants Morgan to teach him how to waltz.” JJ quipped, making Derek throw his head back in laughter. The thought of Morgan and Reid slow dancing would truly be something - something hilarious. I laughed, too, until Reid’s voice interrupted me.

“Yeah, that’s actually a really good idea. Would you mind, Y/N? Kayla would be so happy.” 

I thought he was joking, but his humorless expression told me otherwise. 

“You want me to teach you how to dance?” 

He pursed his lips and nodded, not understanding why I was so confused. 

“Um . . . yeah. I can do that. Sure.” My tone wasn’t very convincing, but Reid’s optimism made him oblivious to my reluctance. He smiled and hugged me with one arm around my shoulder. 

“I have to call Kay and tell her the good news.” Reid dashed away from the table, pulling out his phone to dial his fiancé. 

I darted toward JJ with fury and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her into the bathroom for privacy. 

“What the hell was that? ‘Oh, Y/N, you should teach him how to dance.’ You know how I feel about Reid!” 

Rather than giving me hostility back, she broke into a smile. “Exactly! If you spend more time alone with him, maybe he’ll finally admit to himself that he shouldn’t be marrying Kayla,”

I rolled my eyes and turned my back away from her. 

“We all know Spence would be happier with you.” 

As JJ spoke, I trudged to the nearest sink, holding onto the sides for stability as the ground below me swayed. She followed me, rubbing up and down my back comfortingly. 

“You know how he is. He keeps things to himself, until eventually they’re forced to come out. If you dance with him, maybe he’ll finally tell you he loves you without actually having to say it. Do this for him . . . and for you.” JJ gave me one last pat on the back before exiting the bathroom to leave me to my devices.

Normally, teaching a friend how to slow dance in preparation for his wedding would be sweet. It’d be a selfless gesture and an act of service for him that would show how much love there was in our friendship. In this case though, it was anything but. 

For the six months that Spencer and Kayla had been engaged, the team was relentless in trying to end it. I tried to stay out of it in case all hell broke loose, but I couldn’t escape it. No - I was at the very center of it. 

Before Reid even knew Kayla existed, he was head-over-heels in love with me. He’d ask me on coffee dates, wait by my desk for me, and he would always try to sit beside me at the round table or on the jet. It was sweet, really, but it could never go anywhere. 

I was in a committed relationship with my high school sweetheart Patrick. (Maybe Spencer had a thing for unavailable girls).

I moved in with Patrick after graduating from college, and after years of working in the BAU (and years of Spencer loving me) Pat proposed. At first, being engaged brought me so much joy, but halfway into our engagement, something changed.

I was in Wisconsin, consoling a grieving widow. She was hysterical after I delivered the treacherous news of her husband’s gruesome murder. She eventually calmed down and proceeded to ask me about my engagement when she noticed my ring. I gave her the bare minimum, fabricated a couple things here and there, but then she asked me the million dollar question. 

“Are you in love?” Her eyes glimmered with hope. 

My immediate answer was a habitual “Yes, of course.” But after seeing how deeply this widow loved her late husband, I couldn’t say in good conscience that that answer was actually true. 

That night I went to the hotel and lied on the bed, praying for clarity. 

Perhaps I wasn’t actually in love with Patrick. Maybe we’d been together for so long that it just felt safe and comfortable and familiar. Maybe it was the fear of disrupting the arrangement of my life that stopped me from ending things sooner. 

The fact of the matter was that I’d only ever known a life loving him, but that didn’t mean I was in love with him. Maybe I was settling for something with Pat, because I wasn’t sure if I could have a better relationship with anyone else. With all these doubts, I needed a sign. 

A knock on the door interrupted my inner dialogue. 

When I opened it, who else was standing there, but none other than Rossi.

“We need to talk.” He ordered. 

He followed me back into the room and sat at the foot of the bed. He said he noticed something was off about me, and I admitted that there was. So that night, I took advice I probably shouldn’t have from the man with multiple failed marriages, but it was a sign - and it was good enough.

When we returned to Quantico, I asked Hotch for some personal time, which he was happy to permit. That same night I went home and broke off the engagement with Patrick. 

I felt despicably cold when I watched him tear up and ask me, “Why are you doing this?” 

There was truly no concrete moment in our relationship that incited my decision, but it was merely the realization that being with him wasn’t right, because how could I stand there watching him beg for a change of heart but still feel nothing? 

Maybe I was much less than not in love. Maybe I didn’t feel a thing for him at all. Not hate. Not empathy. Not love. Just . . . nothing. 

Completely indifferent. 

Within the week of personal time I took, I spent most of it moving into Rossi’s guest house. After I came back from work, it took all of two hours before someone brought up the absence of the ring that I used to never take off, and I’d assumed they’d already noticed it the moment I walked in - they were just too afraid to ask.

“I ended things with Patrick.” I casually stated, not even looking up from my portfolio to give it the attention it probably deserved. 

While the rest of the team’s jaws dropped on the floor, Rossi was fighting a smirk considering this wasn’t news to him and having seen everyone else’s reactions was a priceless moment for him. 

There was a brief moment of awkward silence on the jet as the team processed my information, until finally Hotch cleared his throat and started debriefing again. In the seat next to me, Spencer was very poorly hiding his enthusiasm. Hearing I broke off the engagement was like a green light to make his move. And honestly, it was. 

So I waited. 

And I waited. 

And I waited. 

Then I waited some more for him to jump at the opportunity. 

But he didn’t. 

He never did. 

Instead, he introduced Kayla into our lives, and eventually, they’d get engaged, too. 

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t developed feelings for Spencer while I expected him to act upon his palpable affection for me. And because of my newfangled feelings, I could never tell another soul that I sincerely believed Spencer got engaged just to spite me - to show me just how painful unrequited love was. 

The strangest part of it all, though, was that there was never a moment following the ending of my engagement and the birth of his own that showed me that his feelings went away. He never treated me differently or stopped talking to me. Even in the early stages of his relationship with Kayla, he continued to act like I was the only girl in his life. He was so consistent with his actions that it confused me.

Did he love me or not? And was I in love with him or not?

Evidently, the team seemed to have my answer. 

“He loves you and you love him. It’s as simple as that.” Prentiss explained curtly. 

Agreeing nods came from JJ, Morgan, and Garcia, who’d abducted me as soon as I exited the elevator that morning and snuck me into Garcia’s Bat Cave for an intervention. 

“We need to stop this wedding.” Garcia demanded. 

And since that glorious intervention, the team (minus Rossi and Hotch because Rossi seemed genuinely happy for Reid, and Hotch would definitely tell us it wasn’t our place) began trying to put a wedge in the relationship. I, however, made the smart choice not to be involved. 

If I was trying to get him to love me, why would I do something that would surely make him hate me like breaking up his engagement? Plus, the blind optimist in me believed that if I was actually meant to be with Spencer, it would happen regardless of Kayla. 

So anytime Morgan, JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia suggested something, I refused to participate. I was able to steer clear of any wedding crasher shenanigans up until JJ’s “slow-dance” suggestion. 

If Reid knew the true intentions behind these dance classes, he surely wouldn’t be pleased, but clearly - he didn’t. Because when I walked out of the restroom and back to the table, Reid still had a huge grin that took up half of his face, making his eyes look nearly shut. 

“Thank you again for doing this.” Reid beamed. 

“Of course! What are friends for?” 

Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia exchanged satirical glances at my choice of words. 

What are friends for if not to purposefully set two people up in hopes of ending one person’s betrothal?

∙•○⦾☉☼☉⦾○•∙

Later that weekend . . 

“Come in!” I called out, buckling the ankle strap of my heels. 

The door opened partially and then all at once to reveal the one and only. I peeked my head out from behind a wall that was obstructing my view of him, immediately noticing a bouquet of lavender wrapped in twine. 

“Oh my goodness, what is this?” I asked in pure delight as he handed me the pretty purple flowers. 

“It’s a thank-you gift for agreeing to help me.” His lips formed a thin straight line, which was his version of a smile. A smile I appreciated whenever I was lucky enough to have caused it. 

“They’re lovely, thank you.” I told him, hugging him briefly before fetching a vase from the kitchen to put them in.

“Oh, good, I’ll tell Kayla you liked them. She’s the one who picked them out.”

The glass vase nearly shattered the moment he said that, but luckily, my reflex skills spared the vessel.

How big of a fool was I for thinking that he gave me flowers out of the kindness of his heart because he knew lavender was my favorite? But then again I probably needed that brutal reminder of why he was here in the first place - for Kayla.

As I put the vase on the kitchen island, I spun around, brandishing a fake smile. 

“So we should probably get started. I don’t wanna keep you here for too long.” 

“There’s no rush. Kayla won’t be home until late at night.” 

I tried not to think of the potential innuendo that lied within his statement, but Spencer wasn’t type to be disloyal, and I wasn’t going to be the woman to make him such a person.

“You look really nice, by the way.” I heard him say from behind me, catching a whiff of his cologne that was intoxicatingly sweet.

I did my best to not take the comment personally and let it get to my head, but I’d be lying if it didn’t elicit any response. I smiled to myself, which thankfully, he couldn’t see since my back was towards him as he followed me into my backyard. 

“You smell different.” He added. 

“Good different?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Is it a new perfume?”

I furrowed my brows. “No, it’s the same one I’ve been using for years.”

“Interesting,” I could feel him taking in this information, and I could hear the gears in his head turning at an even faster rate to spit out more information. “Did you know that you pick your soulmate by subconsciously reacting to pheromones that transmit their genetic compatibility? Yeah, there’s a relationship between attraction and scent, which dates back to our primal instinct. So if someone smells appealing to you, even if you don’t know it, it could relate to your attraction to them and vice versa.” 

“Ah, then maybe I should consider changing my perfume to improve my love life.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I love the way you smell.”

In the back of my mind lied the unanswered question I neglected to voice, “But do you love me?”

When we reached the backyard, I heard him gasp in awe. 

“It looks beautiful, Y/N. You did great.”  

Nestled in my backyard was a dark wooden deck, surrounded by plentiful greenery. Lining the perimeter of the shiny wooden deck were asymmetrical rocks, while above us hung strands of fairy lights that cast a sheer golden glow on the entire scene. The ambiance was not for Spencer specifically, but I was happy that he appreciated it nonetheless. 

“You ready?” 

He signaled yes by putting his thumb up and so it began.

“Alright, so slow dancing can be broken into four easy steps, but first, you gotta know how to hold your partner correctly.” 

Spencer and I took a step towards each other, and I could feel the nervous energy radiating off of him. I tried not to call attention to it, so I simply continued with my process. Outstretching my arms to form a T with my body, I guided him verbally. 

“So I’m the follower. And you’re the leader. Got it?” 

He nodded. 

“Leader puts their right hand under the follower's left armpit and cups their hand around the follower's shoulder blade.” 

He understood my instructions, and in the most awkward manner possible, he fumbled his way into the right position, albeit, not perfect. 

“Now, hold my right hand as high as my eye level without raising my shoulder.” 

Spencer was glaringly anxious, so I gave him a word of encouragement. “Hey, don’t be nervous. It’s just me, okay? And you’re doing great.”

I could see the nerves beginning to settle, translating into the conviction with which he took my hand, raising it at the perfect height. 

“Great. Just like that.” 

My praise brought out that smile in him that only ever came out on rare occasions. The kind where it’s brief, his teeth showing, a light chuckle escapes him, and he’s looking down as if he’s too shy to look at me. 

“Okay, step two is basic footwork. Leader starts with their left foot and takes a step to the left. And then your right foot is going to meet your left foot and tap. The count is one-two.” 

I watched as Spencer tried to process what I was saying. 

“Do you want me to demonstrate first? And then you follow?” 

He nodded rapidly as if saying yes wouldn’t be enough to communicate how much he needed me to lead. We broke apart so that I could turn my back towards him. I felt a cold draft blow under my dress as I spun on the ball of my feet, making my skirt flutter upwards majestically. 

I felt him watching. 

“Alright, so I’ll start and then you can catch on. It goes one-two.” 

Left foot step. Right foot tap. 

“Then three-four.” 

Left foot step. Right foot tap. 

“Then to the right this time. Five-six.” 

Right foot step. Left foot tap. 

“Seven-eight.” 

Right foot step. Left foot tap.

“And back again. One-two. Three-four. Five-six. Seven-eight.” 

My eight count continued until the click of my heels on the patio was joining by the sound of Spencer’s feet shuffling behind me. I knew if I turned around to check on him, it would only psych him out and make him more nervous, so I stayed facing forward so he wouldn’t feel that I was scrutinizing his technique. 

After a minute or so of following me, I spun back around, catching his lingering stare in the region of my hips. He tried to play it off and pretend he wasn’t, but I felt it. 

“You did really well tonight. I’m proud of you. I think that’s a good place to stop for today.” 

He thanked me with another hug, the kind where we nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck. 

God, I could feel him breathing on my shoulder. 

I tried not to not to let myself indulge in it, reasoning that this was just a way for one friend to thank another, but I couldn’t help myself when the hug lasted longer than it should’ve. I tightened my embrace around him, drawing him in closer, and shutting my eyes as if taking my sense of sight away would heighten my sense of touch and magnify this feeling I never wanted to end.

“You take care, okay?” I said, rubbing my hand up and down his back to signal we should pull away, a signal he understood.

I was the first to walk away, merely because of the worry that I might sooner cry if I had to stay under these lights with him a moment longer. 

I wasn’t sure I could do this again unless he was mine. Otherwise, I’d just be under the stars, dancing with the love of my life that I couldn’t have - feeling that feeling again, and not being able to act on it. 

Is this what happens when your person loves somebody else?

∙•○⦾☉☼☉⦾○•∙

I know I said I couldn’t do it, but I did it anyway. 

I guess that’s what love is. Doing things you don’t want to do because your care for the other person surpasses the discomfort. True love makes you do things like that, even if they aren’t in your best interest.

When he came over the next night, we danced again. Undoubtedly, he stumbled - even came close to falling - and yet, I fell in love all over again. After that, it got harder to separate dancing from my feelings. 

The next day, we had a case. He came to my hotel room and we danced in the dim golden light of the hotel room’s chandelier. God, it was so ambient and romantic, I think I fell even harder for him - if that was even possible. 

From then on, every time we were in the same place, he leapt at the opportunity to dance with me. 

“Guys, look what I learned last night! Come, Y/N! Come on, come on.” 

He waved me over eagerly with his hand, even helping me out of my seat in the round table just to speed up the process. All too excitedly, he assumed the leader’s position, and he danced me around the entire conference room in front of our coworkers. He spun me around the table, he dipped me in the doorway, he held me in his arms by the glass board. 

Can you really blame me for falling in love? 

“Wow, Y/N! I’m impressed. You really whipped him into shape.” JJ remarked with a clap. 

I hid behind a faux smile, but Spencer was too elated to recognize the deceit. He was like that now. Maybe love made him more of a fool, more naive and blissfully unaware, whereas love made me more devoted and cognizant. 

It went on like that for weeks. Practicing whenever and wherever we could. 

He’d pull me into the hotel lobby at midnight to dance - not even batting an eye at the looming presence of the receptionist. 

He’d ask me to come to his apartment and we’d dance in his living room or in the narrow hallway, just for fun. 

When we were at Rossi’s, he’d drag me to the kitchen, with Rossi’s gentle music playing in the background, and we’d sway by the fireplace sometimes. 

We danced once in the elevator when it got stuck. I never thought he’d be so fearless to do that, but he looked like he was genuinely enjoying himself, almost like he didn’t even notice we were stuck in an elevator. 

While we waited for the jet, we’d danced on the tarmac, looking like a moving bundle of clothes, our movements stifled by our thick peacoats, layers of clothes, and scarfs. 

After a dinner during cases, when we’d split a cab back to the hotel, he’d get me to dance on the sidewalk, even convincing me not to pay attention to the onlookers on the street, the honking cars, or the confused pedestrians. I was always embarrassed to be in the spotlight, but somehow with him, it was easy. It felt like it was just the two of us, dancing under that streetlight. 

I never understood why people wanted to live in a moment forever, but for the first time that night, I did. That was a moment I wanted to freeze in time. I wish I could’ve stayed there forever. There in that moment, it really felt like it was our own little world. It was easy to believe we’d end up together, and we were the ones getting married, and we were in love. 

But again, that was in that moment. In that singular, fleeting moment. And then life moved on, whether or not I was ready for it to. 

The day of rehearsals inevitably came, and I wasn’t originally supposed to be at the wedding rehearsal since I wasn’t part of the ceremony, but Spencer asked me to be there, deliberately neglecting to tell me that the reason he wanted me to come was so that I could fill in for Kayla, which had I known that, I would’ve certainly declined. 

When I walked in, the team was all there, sitting in the pews, with their heads turning to me where I was standing at the entrance of the church. It felt like an eerie nightmare that I was living out where I was Spencer’s bride walking down the aisle, and this was our wedding. I couldn’t tell you what was so nightmarish about it - probably because none of it felt right - but I was sick to my stomach when Spencer gestured for me to meet him at the altar. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Kayla had a last minute dress alteration in Norfolk and got stuck in traffic. She won’t make it for this rehearsal, but she’ll be there in time for the dinner rehearsal.” 

“So why am I here?” 

“I wanted to practice my vows on you, if that’s okay.” 

I gulped hard, trying to swallow the lump in my throat to open up my suddenly-closing airway. 

“Um, I don’t really know if -”

“Please, Y/N. I’m just nervous that I might mess up-”

How could I say no? True love makes you do crazy things, even if they aren’t in your best interest, right?

I reluctantly agreed. 

Spencer’s hands were trembling and I could see it by the way his notecards were shaking, even from the fact that he brought notecards alone, and that he didn’t already memorize his vows. I wanted to put my hands around his and hold them to settle his unsteadiness, but I knew that wasn’t my place. I figured my words would do a better job at not crossing a boundary that was already crossed.

“Hey,” I comfortingly whispered. “It’s just me, okay?” Calling back those words from the first time we danced months ago. “You don’t need those notecards. Just speak from the heart.”

And sure enough, his heart spoke. 

“When people used to tell me stories about what love felt like and what is what, they always said they fell in love with that person. Like it was sudden and all at once, but with you - I walked into love with you. With my eyes wide open, choosing to take each and every step along the way. I never believed in fate or destiny, but after I met you, I finally believed. I believed that we are only fated to do the things that we’d choose anyway. And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality. I’d find you and I’d choose you.”

My breath hitched as I got lost in his eyes and how they were looking right at me, completely unmindful of the way everyone around us saw how he spoke to me. 

I think he even got lost too, because what he said next, didn’t even seem to register in his mind before it came out of his mouth. 

“I love you . . . Y/N.” 

Gasps rang through the church, ricocheting off the high ceiling, and in that moment I knew, I knew he was going to kiss me. 

He lunged forward in the heat of the moment. Clearly not thinking straight, he held my face in his hands, and I swear to God, I could’ve kissed him back. 

I would’ve. 

“Spencer?” 

Every single head in the church turned toward the small voice, too distinct to misplace. 

“Kayla, wait!’ 

And there I stood, alone at the front of the altar, watching him run after her. 

∙•○⦾☉☼☉⦾○•∙

I sat by my phone the entire afternoon, waiting for someone - anyone - to update me. No one ever ended up texting or calling, so I figured the dinner rehearsal wasn’t cancelled. At least, in that case, my dress didn’t go to waste. 

After spending an ungodly amount of time curling my hair and putting on my makeup, even achieving a smoky eye look, I finally slipped on my navy-blue, satin, floor length dress, donning nude heels and a dainty gold necklace with a single diamond pendant that laid right on my sternum. 

It was a shame that this was a moment where I should’ve felt at my prettiest, and yet, I’d never felt so ugly. 

I was riddled with the guilt of knowing I would’ve kissed Spencer if Kayla hadn’t walked in. I felt even worse that I was so consumed by his speech that I didn’t even hear her come in. 

How long had she been standing there? Long enough to watch what I knew everyone else saw? These questions never left me. Not even when I pulled into the site of the dinner rehearsal. 

Clutching the front of my dress to walk without resistance, I came to the entrance, and opened the door to reveal . . . nothing.

Staff was removing chairs and tables. 

Waiters were collecting plates and utensils. 

And Spencer was standing in the very middle of the empty room, watching it all happen silently, like he was just the shell of a man. 

“Spencer!” I called out from the entrance, in no hurry to meet him at the middle of the room. He turned on his heels, with his hands sheepishly shoved into his pockets. 

“Gosh, I’m sorry, Y/N. I should’ve called to let you know it got cancelled, but um, Kayla broke my phone.”

“Well, it’s time you got a new phone anyway.” I chuckled, which thankfully earned a chuckle from him, too. 

“What happened, Spencer?” My voice was quiet, as if it was any decibel higher it would sound more like a scold than genuine concern. 

“She, um, she told me she needed some time to think. And I, I told her to come to the rehearsal dinner if she still wanted to get married and,” He mirthlessly chuckled. “Well, you already know.” His words were chosen carefully to deliberately avoid what he hadn’t yet come to terms with. 

She didn’t come. 

I wasn’t yet sure whether or not to console him or to berate him for what he almost did, but I chose the former. 

“I’m so sorry, Spence.” 

He looked up from the ground, still managing to avoid my gaze, by looking up at the ceiling, and pretty much everywhere my face wasn’t. 

“I understand if you want to leave right now. I just need to pay the owner and I’ll be out of here.” 

I shook my head instantly. “No, I’ll be right here. If you want me to be.” 

He bit his lip to stop a sob from escaping. “Yeah,” He nodded, cowering his head. “I’d like that a lot.” 

As soon as I saw his cheeks get red, I took it as a cue to approach him and hug him. He was grateful for my compassionate touch, immediately opening up his arms to hug me back. His embrace around me was needy and desperate, and it felt like he was clawing at my dress, acting out of anger that the fabric was stopping us from being that much closer. 

With his shoulder digging into the spot right underneath my chin, it was hard to utter the words, “You look really handsome, by the way.” I said, finally acknowledging his light beige suit and white button up shirt. 

“Thanks.” I heard him mumble into my shoulder. 

“Kayla doesn’t know what she’s missing.” 

To my surprise, he didn’t recoil, flinch, or so much as react to her name. Instead, he simply pulled away, wiping the moisture under his nose, and straightening out his suit. 

“We should . . . we should probably talk about what happened earlier, right?” 

I sighed and shook my head. “Not if you don’t want to. We can save that conversation for another day.”

He looked appreciative of my avoidance, but I knew he wanted to talk about it. 

“Hey, excuse me,” He stopped a staff member by clutching their arm gently. “Do you mind, actually? Leaving two seats behind.” 

The staff member complied, doing as he said, and leaving two chairs behind, setting one right across from the other. I took my seat, and Spencer took his.

“I probably shouldn’t have spoken from the heart, huh?” He joked, finally seeing the humor in his situation. 

“No, it was good that you did.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely. I think Kayla would’ve appreciated it.” All too quickly he responded with, “I wasn’t talking about Kayla.” 

I was talking about you, his somber eyes said. 

I looked away from his gaze immediately, trying to find a reprieve from the conversation that I was doing my best to avoid. 

“It was a really good speech. It sounded so natural. Like something you knew by heart.”

“Something I knew by heart?” He didn’t seem to understand what I meant. 

“Yeah, some things we just know by heart. Like the lyrics to our favorite song, or a recipe, how to dance,” We both chuckled at the reference. “Or . . . how to love.” 

“Do you think we know who to love by heart or do you think we make that choice ourselves?”

“I think it’s both. I think we can’t control the person we’re meant to love. That, by some miracle, we’re handed this person that complements us better than anyone else. But I also think it’s our choice on whether or not we pick them. Maybe we aren’t willing to stand the test of time and wait for our person, so we don’t pick them and settle for someone else. Or maybe we do pick them and we live out the rest of our lives together. I think that’s what makes love so special. It’s a person choosing you over and over again.” 

Isn’t that what we all want? To feel chosen?

“And what if we make the wrong decision? What if we’ve met who we’re supposed to love, but we chose to love another?” His eyes were searching within mine for the words that I wasn’t saying out loud. Out of fear that my eyes might expose me to Spencer, I looked away. 

“I think -”

Spencer cut me off. “Look at me.” 

My head didn’t move, but I shifted my gaze just as he wanted.

“When two people are meant to be, nothing and no one can end them. They may get lost a time or two on their journey, but true, real love will always conquer. Nothing can compete with them. Others can only attempt to fill a void. And eventually, the two will be reunited. That’s the beauty of true love; you always end up with the right person, at the right time, regardless of any other factor.” 

Quiet fell upon us two after I said my piece. My breathing slowed down and the knot in my stomach came undone. The lump in my throat disappeared. 

All my bodily barriers broke down. There were no more emotional walls up between the two of us anymore. I was completely vulnerable - nothing to hide me. Not even my eyelids could hide the windows of my soul. Spencer had already seen into them. 

He saw my soul, my secrets. 

“Dance with me.” He extended his hand in the air between us two. With no hesitation, I accepted his offer and followed his lead. He’d never danced so naturally before. Somehow, his stiffness had withered away. The thick tension that used to loom in the air above us two dissipated. Something new replaced the contents of the atmosphere. 

Love. 

Unbounded. 

Unrestrained. 

Unbridled. 

Limitless love. 

Spencer drew me in closer so my head could lay on his chest. Previously, I was looking at his face, but now the view was of our connected hands. My fingers were intertwined with his, and I didn’t even notice how his thumb was rubbing small circles on the back of my hand until I saw it with my own eyes. 

Had he always done that, but I couldn’t feel it until I saw it for myself? If so, what else had he been doing that I couldn’t feel?

“Loving you.” 

I removed my head from his shoulder after hearing him answer the question that I pondered silently, wondering if suddenly just acquired the superpower of telepathy.

“What?”

“Loving you. That’s all I know how to do by heart.” 

A wave of relief came over me when I realized he hadn’t read my mind, he was just simply adding to our conversation from before. 

“That’s not true,” I mirthlessly chuckled. “There’s lots you know how to do. You know thousands of chess permutations, you know how to geographically profile - you know how to dance now.” I countered playfully.

He shook his head. “I know how to do those things, but sometimes, none of it makes sense. I used to lose matches against Gideon, sometimes the comfort zone is inaccurate, and until today, I couldn’t dance very well,” He chortled. “But loving you. That always made sense. It never failed me or disappointed me and it’s so all-consuming that if I try to love anyone else - it just doesn’t make sense.”

Of all the words in my vocabulary, each of them were failing me. I was rendered speechless. Spencer cleared his throat and looked away for a moment, before finding the nerve to say it. 

“I choose you.” He proclaimed. 

So, I was right. 

There are some things we know by heart. 

Lyrics to our favorite song.

A recipe. 

How to dance . . . how to love.

And who to choose. 

“I choose you, too, Spencer.” 

. . . So to answer my question from before, is life really that magical? . . . 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*