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huenjin · 4 years

Text

the devil’s tango.

summary — and when your demon boyfriend's best friends ruin your valentine's day plans with said demon boyfriend by lighting up a restaurant in flames, they make sure to apologise well. or, in which jisung, changbin and chan show you all the ways a devil can fuck a woman.

pairing — 3racha x reader

genre — smut | demons!au

ratings — 18+

word count — 14.4k words

warnings — mentions of flame, indications of objectification, mentions of themes of afterlife, heaven and hell | smut specifications under the cut

note — the way this was written only thanks to @chaangbin and her sprinto discord thing pwp and is totally inspired from this one nsfw asmr i chanced upon on reddit. happy reading and sinning, babes.

smut warnings —

i. groping, dirty talk, objectification, car sex, marking, slight temperature play, thigh riding, dirty talk, slight blood play (jisung gets a slight rush !!), grinding, fingering, sir kink, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, vaginal stimulation, ruined orgasm;

ii. changbin calls you baby girl (!!), choking, cunnilingus, dirty talk, dumbification (changbin talks a loooot dirty, heads up !!) nipple play, breast play, pain kink, spitting, marking, so so so much marking omfg, intercrural sex, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex (better safe than anything else irl okay?), squirting, overstimulation, reader slips into subspace, changbin's kinda hard on the reader; chan bring you back from subspace because he's protective like that !!!

iii. tattooed!chan — chan has this huge dark feathered wing tattoo in his back omf and the reader has a tattoo kink, of sorts— dick piercing!chan, tongue piercing!chan, so !! much !! making !! out !!, calls you princess throughout the story because you are one, nipple play, breast play, daddy kink, grinding, spanking, pain kink, degradation (but chan like gives reader heads up in such a nice way because chan best boy !!), teasing cause chan won't give it to you just like that !!!, so much begging, pussy slapping, clitoral stimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you snap it!), bulge kink, creampie, slight after care.

Chan thinks Valentine's Day is a marketing scheme by the very commercial, capitalistic world.

Not that his devilish self cared when he could have all the luxuries in the world in his hand by the very thought of it. Chan doesn't care even more because you, his girlfriend, loved Valentine's Day more than anything in this world, second only to your love for him. If anything, you loved Valentine's Day this much because of him.

And that is exactly why he is driving down the neat lane to this newly opened restaurant, right across the town, that you have been hyping up for months now. His fingers wrap around the steering wheel, shoes pressed flat against the gas as his other hand lies gently on your exposed thigh, thanks to your little black skirt riding up to his delight.

"Thank you for doing this," you mumble, your right hand shifting to place itself on top of his hand and grip at it softly. "You know, even after you hate all the couples out there, ever to exist."

Chan laughs, a hearty one in fact. His thumb rubs against the palmar side of your hand — one of the many affectionate things your devil does for you, albeit all the times he reminds you he is second to Lucifer himself.

"I don't hate them all." Lie. Chan knows that's an obvious lie and so do you. You click your tongue and your boyfriend bites his lower lip in a sheepish action, momentarily glancing at you before bringing his attention back on the road. "I like us. We make such a power couple. If anything, we should be the only couple to exist. Valentine's Day should exist for only one couple and that should be us."

Raising your eyebrows before letting it fall, face softening up instantly as you gaze at your boyfriend's side profile, you coo, "Aw. I see finally that there are things the devil too doesn't get at his will."

"You were one amongst them," Chan sniggers, his hand slowly trailing upwards as they shift from underneath your hand's grip. "But look where we are now."

Your breath hitches as his fingers slightly trace parallel lines as they move upwards and your eyelids flutter a bit. The pads of his fingers are hot against the coldness of your skin and the temperature difference is great enough to raise goosebumps on them.

"Chan." It's a whisper. Almost as if a great amount of determination is required for you to make this decision to turn him down. "You are driving. Plus, let's not ruin the night already. You've booked us a nice table in this amazing restaurant on this beautiful night."

"But I could make it even better." Chan licks his lower lip as he presses on the brakes, the heavy traffic stopping him from proceeding further. His hand is now completely underneath your skirt, short enough to his pleasure, fingers edging so close to your panties that your head involuntarily shifts back and your lips part.

You have been dating him for months now and every single time he touches you, you feel like a starved woman craving for every drop of his affection, desiring every part of him. Chan has been more than willing to comply, however. Your body reacts to his touches and his kisses like you are on heat and every time your boyfriend points it out, you blame it on his extraterrestrial, hellish skills; that he had you in his control.

Little do you know that it is the other way round. That Chan chooses to stay in the mortal world for you, to be with you. That he knows he will have to part with you one day when you shift over to the other side and maybe you could have sinned enough to be with him in the other world too. However, Chan knows how much God loves playing his cards and for that, he'll seize every single moment he gets with you.

All because he loves you. He is in love with you.

Chan realises this a few weeks back. Of course, he feels the weird thing humans call butterflies when you are so understanding of him being hell's very spawn. However, it is when you cook dinner for him as you wait for him to come, or how you ask him about his day and listen ardently that he realises: hell could never be worthy enough to have someone as beautiful as you. He shouldn't deserve you — fuck, the very act of him laying his filthy eyes on you should have sent your guardian angel into a frenzy but you chose him. You chose to be with him and for that, he'd mayhaps, thank that lousy old God up in the heavens.

"Dinner first," you strictly say. You remove his hand from underneath your skirt, wrapping your hand around his as you hold it up to kiss his knuckles. "When we get back home, I promise. In fact, I'll be the one to jump at you as soon as we reach the doorsteps." Chan laughs, mumbling, "Ah, my baby girl, my princess," under his breath and turns to look at the signal that has changed to green. He presses on the gas, speeding to reach the place on time as per reservations.

Having Chan's hand in yours roots you in confidence from your biggest fear deep down — that he would fade away from your life one day and worse, he'd take away the memories with him to rid you of the pain from his absence. His calloused hand grips onto yours and you hold it close to your chest, shutting your eyes for a minute because this is what Valentine's Day is all about for you. Bang Chan and everything your devil of a boyfriend is. He has shown you both heaven and hell and even though you did not believe in the afterlife, you do not mind going to hell, especially not if he is there with you.

"Why is there smoke up in the air?" Chan asks himself in absolute confusion as he takes the right on the road to the restaurant. Upon finding a neat parking spot about a hundred meters away from the restaurant, he gets out of the car, rushing to your side to open the door for you like a true gentleman.

"Why, thank you!" You giggle, hand slapping right across your lips at the unpleasant sound that leaves your mouth and Chan smiles so widely at you, almost as if he is looking at his whole world right before him. You get out of the car and Chan closes the door right behind you.

"You look so damn pretty today, baby," Chan hugs you by the waist temporarily and snuggles into your neck, only to leave a quick kiss against it. You push him slightly and Chan chuckles, raising his right hand, that is not held by you, to protest. "I'm not making a move. We did get dressed well so let's have a nice romantic dinner first and when we get back home—" His voice drops a note lower. "We'll have a hot night and let this Valentine's Day wrap up rightfully as it should."

"And what's the right way, Mr. Hotshot Devil?"

"With my dick wrapped around your sweet little pussy," he smiles, lips extending so wide across his face that your cheeks heat up. He leans closer, pressing his lips against the pinna of your ears as he whispers, "You'll be begging me over and over and I'll treat you like the good little girl you are for me."

Your breath hitches and a flustered broken gasp leaves your lips as your fingers dig into his forearm. Chan's harmonious laughter over having made you a flustered mess rings in your ear till it is cut off by loud screams and foggy vision thanks to dark grey smoke.

"That's a lot of smoke," you comment worried as your boyfriend takes you by his hand and walks you down the road to the restaurant. He takes small strides to let you walk at ease. "I wonder if something is on— Fuck. The restaurant is in flames. It's on fire. Fuck."

Chan's eyes widen and he stares at the fire long enough to see two figures making their way towards you. Two very familiar faces too hard for him to ever forget, especially because Chan has spent more than a millennium with them.

"Jisung? Changbin?"

"Do you know them, baby?" You whisper into his ears, hiding slightly behind him as you cower at the magnanimous presence of the two individuals before you.

"Sometimes I wish I didn't," he rolls his eyes and folds his arms as he looks at the two younger demons in a gaze filled with doubt and suspicion.

"You lie!" The taller of the two says. "We had ramen together and you know ramen is exactly the way for people to bond."

"That's Jisung," Chan introduces as he slightly brings you forward. Your fingers play with the end of your short skirt, trying to bring it further down as the two men — demons, you presumed — looked at you and almost seemed to be studying you. "And the one by his side is Changbin."

"We've been friends for a while," Jisung informs and judges at Changbin who still continues to stare at you in displeasure. Did one of Chan's friends already not like you? You guess it is normal but deep down you know it hurts. You have always had the innate tendency to make sure that everyone liked you and the very thought of Chan's friends disliking you puts you to this sorrow as much as you hate to agree to it.

"Stop scaring my girlfriend, Bin," Chan glares back at the shorter of the two before drifting his attention to Jisung and enquiring, "How did this even happen?"

"That's on me. I crashed my car into the restaurant," Jisung rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Your eyes widen and you look further beyond the two men to see a beautiful red Maserati driven into the restaurant, caught in flames just as the whole building is.

"The people!" You scream, rushing forward. Chan holds your wrist in worry, holding you back, and you look at your boyfriend with eyebrows furrowed in concern. "They are my people."

Changbin scoffs, mumbling under his breath, "Stupid humans and their weird sense of morality at all the wrong times." Your heart drops at his words and Chan lets go of your hand, only to take a step forward in Changbin's direction, eyes narrowing at the demon.

Jisung laughs hesitantly, slipping right between the two males and pushing them away. He looks at you and rushes forward to lean close to you. You are taken aback by the sudden invasion of your personal space but something in his eyes holds you fixed, enamored by his whole being.

"There are no casualties, sweetheart. Don't worry!"

Jisung leans back soon after, standing firm on his toes, and turns to look at your boyfriend. Smiling as wide as you've seen any devil smile, he prompts, "Since all our Valentine's Day plans got ruined, what if we spent it together?" He glances at you and you look away, eyes catching Changbin's who still looks at you in suspicion.

"I—"

"Jisung," Chan warns.

Jisung rushes to Changbin's side. Directing his attention towards you all while nudging the hell out of Changbin's side, he wiggles his eyebrows, "He may seem rude like this but trust me, he's the tsundere kind of lover."

"What the fuck," Changbin mumbles and turns his head away. "I'm not saying anything."

Your boyfriend is very flustered at the very happenings around him. Jisung suggesting a possibility of a wild night, the restaurant going into flames, and his girlfriend, albeit looking scared, positively looking at this whole proposal — maybe it has been too long since he has been away from hell for the mere chaos to fluster him.

Without a word said further to his friends, he pulls you away. You bite your lower lip, nibbling and pulling at the dead skin. Chan quickly takes your hand in his, eyes fixing on yours and staying in silence for a short while till he finally asks, "Are you okay?"

"Can I be honest?"

"Yes, please."

"Are all your friends this hot and a solid mess?"

"Should I be offended?" A soft chuckle leaves his lips when he sees you joke nervously.

"No, no." You hit his arms, jokingly. You draw circles onto his arm and bring the topic forward finally. "I know I might have looked like I was taken aback — I was — but remember how we had this talk once about bringing people into our sex lives," you gulp, "I think this is a great moment to see if we'd like it in our relationship."

"Are you sure?" Chan's hand frames your face and you lean into it.

"One hundred percent."

"These are demons, baby," he hesitates.

"And you're a demon too. Stop stating the obvious, Chan. Plus, I have you."

"Are the two of you done?" Jisung asks loudly. You hold Chan's wrist and drag him towards his friends. Changbin raises an eyebrow at the sudden beam of confidence that radiates from you.

"We are. I'm Y/N," you finally introduce yourself. "Sorry for being awkward in the beginning—"

"Oh, don't be," Changbin mumbles, gaze still wary of you. "Jisung tends to have that effect on people."

"Hey!"

"Anyhow," Changbin finally smiles tonight. "Thanks to someone," He glares at Jisung, "We lost both our dinner and our car. So do you mind if we travel with you?"

"Oh, no," you clasp your hands together. "We'll give you a ride back to our place. Chan could cook us something," you smile at your boyfriend and he merely shrugs.

"And we can let the night roll into whatever it is, right?" Jisung's gaze is different, almost like he's insinuating a thousand different sex positions in one look.

"Yes," you say after a long pause and an audible gulp. "We can let the night roll into whatever setting it turns to."

"Lead the way, princess," Jisung's arms move in abduction and you smile, skin wrinkling by your eyes at his chirpy self. You walk forward to the car and Chan slows down his strides to walk with the boys.

His arms wrap around the shoulders of both the demons and he pulls them closer to sharply whisper. "You fucking hurt her and I'll have both your arses burning in the hottest flames in hell. I swear to Lucifer."

"What if she likes it?" Changbin raises an eyebrow, almost provoking Chan and your boyfriend glares back at him equally, gritting his teeth and almost growling.

With clenched teeth, he restates, "Keep it tame," and lets go of them.

Chan should know better. Nothing is tame for the men in hell.

Changbin calls shotgun, putting you next to Jisung in the back seat while Chan drives the car.

"This is consensual, right?" Jisung asks again. There is concern lacing his face and Changbin sighs, mumbling, "She has said she wants us more than ten times, Sungie."

"Chan, you're alright with me fucking your girlfriend in the back while you drive?"

Chan's breath hitches, coughs entailing and you smile at how lost he looks for a minute as he turns back in worry, slowing the car down. "In the back or in the back of the car?"

"You never know. Maybe she might like it."

"Don't you dare!"

"Fine," he begrudgingly agrees.

"As long as she's okay with it. Do not make her uncomfortable at all, guys," Chan sighs and turns back, pressing on the gas and almost taking all his thoughts out on it. You blush, cheeks staining a shade lighter and heat rising up as soon as you feel Jisung edge closer to you. In the front seats, Changbin talks to Chan, catching up on every single thing they have missed out in these years.

In the back seat, however, Jisung has different plans. A whole different plan to break you down into putty in his hands.

"So, it seems like you are the girl that Chan wouldn't stop talking about and fawning over," Jisung's voice is huskier in the low tone he chooses to speak in to keep the conversation just between the two of you. "Nice to meet you, lovely. I'm Jisung. Now that I see you, I realise what all the fuss is about. You really are breathtaking."

You giggle, "You flatter me. Do all demons sweet talk this well?"

"Only the finest," Jisung winks. His hand wraps around your forearm and he slowly asks again, "It is alright for me to fuck you, right?"

The crudeness of the word in front of not just you but also two other demons leaves you flustered. Jisung pushes your hair strands that have gotten loose and fall to cover your eyes, behind your ears.

"Yes, it is," you repeat for what you have counted in your head as the eleventh time. "It's totally alright, Jisung."

"Then, can I come closer?" You nod and Jisung edges forward, closer than he already is. "You know how us demons work, right?"

"Uh," you look down at your hands on your skirt. "You get wild every now and then." Jisung hums in approval, cupping your face with his left hand.

"Bingo, you're right!" Jisung grips your face a little stronger than a second before. "We, demons, love to go wild." He scoffs and continues, "Your boyfriend loves to play nice and pretend like he doesn't lose control and has only virtuous thoughts. All a big fucking facade to hide the fact that he just wants to bend you over and fuck you—" Jisung kisses your neck right underneath your face. "—Again and," he kisses your jugular. "Again and again."

"I however am not. I like to do a lot of things to you."

Jisung bites sharply into your neck, sucking at the skin. The lewd noises resonate in the locked car and you know your boyfriend can hear each moan and each sound that comes from the back seat. The car moves only faster and Jisung's action matches the pace. He lets go of your neck only to crash his lips against yours, sucking in your lower lip as he kisses your hard. His arms snake around your frame and push you against him.

You moan against his lips. It's volatile, you realise. Jisung's kisses are volatile. One minute they are harsh against your lips, strong enough to bruise them with cuts, and the very next minute, there is nothing softer than his lips or the goosebumps that trail your skin that he touched after untucking your shirt.

His skin is hot against yours, hot enough to raise goosebumps again on your skin. His lips are warmth personified and his grip makes you want to go unhinged

He pulls back, lips parting and looking sinfully delectable. "It's in moments like these, princess, I realise how different our body temperatures are. How much warmer demons always are compared to humans. It must feel nice to have warm hands over you, doesn't it?" Jisung removes his hand from your bare skin and from underneath your white shirt. You gasp at the lack of contact, your skin feeling irritably cold all over again, and move closer into him.

"What a needy human," Jisung chuckles, and in the very blink of your eyes, he unbuttons your first two ones, exposing your black bra, laced to perfection, to him. "That's a pretty one. You really did go all out for Chan, did you not, princess?"

"I did. I wanted him to fuck me stupid and make me his tonight," you agree boldly and the car jolts to a stop suddenly. You are pushed forward into Jisung's warmth, your half-naked self pressed against Jisung's nice shirt. Changbin chuckles, looking at Chan and you turn to the side to see the traffic. You whisper again, "I still want him to fuck me stupid tonight."

"Oh, you are going to be all of ours tonight. We are going to make you such a slut for demon cock, princess. Make you greedy and desperate for it."

You are in the public. You are on the road, visible for any child or adult to look into your car only to see all the lustful deeds out in the open. You should have felt embarrassed, quivering in nothing but shame. However, all these triggers are for you to get wetter, panties sticking to your core and your grip to tighten on Jisung's arms.

Jisung's hand moves back to unhook your bra. He lets it fall off your shoulders slightly before taking your left breast in his arms and bringing his face closer to it. He sucks on your left nipple, nipping on the areola around. His hand massages the right breast over the black lace bra and your head lolls forward. Your hand tightens around his shoulder and you desperately crave some friction in your nether regions.

"Can I sit on your thigh, please?" You beg and Jisung's mouth leaves your nipple only to look up at you.

"Only if you call me sir."

Jisung has an immaculate grip on your waist as he lifts you slightly, holding you mid-air and not letting you settle down on his thigh until you call him by what he desires to be called.

"Please let me sit on your thigh, sir."

"You're a good girl," and Jisung drops you down on his thigh. You blush at how Jisung calls you a good girl. You like being called names. Be it a good girl or a slut, the words coming out from them right during sex made you feel unique and special. Your skirt rides up and your wet panties are pressed flat against his nice formal pants. He kisses your lips again, this time biting into your lower lip and drawing a bit of the blood. The copper taste does nothing for the demon exactly, besides indulging him in a slight high he could almost get off on. You seethe against him and your hips grind down on his thigh almost unknowingly. Your lips part behind your panties, the two materials underneath and his flexed thigh providing you enough to ease the lust and thirst of wanting to feel more.

"Does this feel good?" You moan in response and Jisung's eyes sparkle. "Ah, look at the expressions you are making." His hands grip tightly on your hips as he resolves to go back to your breasts and suck on them till the nipples harden for him and the areola swells up. His hands help your hips to move against his thigh quickly, soaking his navy blue pants darker. Your covered clit rubs over and over against his flexed thighs and the moans that leave your lips are loud and unhinged.

"Sir, ah, ah—" Your hands drop to hover your palm over his covered cock that rubs against your outer thigh. "I want more, sir. Fuck, fuck, I want more. Please, sir." And just as you begged, Jisung bites slightly into your breast just when he lets go of your hips and plunges two fingers into your wet lips, pushing the panties and skirt aside slightly. With your pussy filled with his fingers, Jisung continues to suck on your breasts and little kisses and hickeys all over them.

Your moan is the loudest so far this night in that minute. His fingers are long and bony and they hit your walls and push against them exactly the way you like. Your pain and pleasure senses, both activated, seemed to be mixing signals leaving you with a slow, slow path to euphoria. "You like that, princess? Tell me."

"Your fingers feel so good, sir." You move against his thighs quickly, grinding on it rough as your pussy is stuffed with his fingers. "Sir, sir— Fuck, sir. There." Jisung curves his fingers, the joints by his finger rubbing against your spot, deep inside that has your thighs shivering and your whole body aching for more. He rubs against the spot till you gasp over and over again and he's laughing like the very devil he is.

"Oh my god, you're so wet for me, princess. You are dripping." Jisung quickly stills you on his thighs, his other hand digging into your hips. "I'm going to go a little—" He pulls out slightly before thrusting his fingers back in.

"Sir, oh my god," your voice pitches higher and Jisung takes the positive signs well. He pushes his fingers back in after pulling them out. His forefinger moves away from the middle all while they are deep inside of you, stretching your walls apart and the sensation rules you up further as you move down, pulling him deeper and making you feel fuller than a second before. His fingers scissors inside of you, enhancing the sensations against your soft wet walls

"You're so needy, princess. You like that, huh? Does it feel nice to have my fingers wide apart inside of you? Do you like it when I curl them up?" And Jisung curls them, eliciting a loud groan from you and your head dropping into his shoulder as you can feel yourself edge closer.

He thrusts them faster. The lewd noises from your arousal gushing out and being pushed back in thanks to his fingers is intensified in the small space and your moans are like spice. Jisung sucks on your neck as his fingers hit your spot over and over again till the knot tightens so much that tears well up in your eyes and you pray he pushes you over the boundary.

"You like my fingers thrusting fast, princess?" You nod and Jisung orders, "Words, princess."

"Yes, sir. I love it. I love it. I love— Ah! Ungh—"

His thumb brushes finally against your clit and you bite into his shoulder. "Such a good princess. You deserve to cum, don't you? You were such a good girl." Jisung's thumb presses into your clit. His thrusts stills for a short second and your impatient self slides yourself up to fuck his fingers. The obscene sounds get louder with every second as you move closer to your orgasm.

"I think I should introduce another finger. Princess got my two fingers sopping wet." Jisung's third finger now plunges into you, pushing you apart even further and your breath hitches. He thrusts at a great speed, "We'll be faster, a little bit faster. That will be alright, right?" You know you are close, just a little bit of clitoral stimulation and Jisung's three bony fingers thrusting up into you, hitting the spots—

The electric motor revs and the garage door opens. Chan slowly moves the car into the garage, darkness seeping into the car. Jisung thrusts sloppily, once and then twice before pulling them away from your core, leaving your walls to clench on nothing desperately. You cry, "No, no, no, no—"

His voice is husky as he says, "Looks like we are here, princess. We are home." Slowly, without breaking contact with your eyes, Jisung sucks on his forefinger and then the middle finger and then the third slowly, tongue wrapping across it, dancing almost like a whole orchestra was playing in the background.

Chan rushes to open your door. He sees your haphazard hair, unbuttoned shirt and exposed breasts and he groans. You are insatiable just as he has always known. Your eyes are lost and mind far away at dreams of achieving orgasm. Chan buttons up your shirt and helps you get out of the car. His hold on your frame is tight and he kisses the side of your forehead.

"Chan's making pasta," Changbin announces and walls towards you, raising an eyebrow at your sight.

"We already have a whole meal here." Jisung licks your arousal from his lower lips. Chan rolls his eyes, before calling out loudly, "Jisung!"

"Yes?"

"You're helping me with dinner."

"But why me? I want to fuck Y/N," he whines. "All I did was tease her in the back of the car."

Chan leans into you and whispers, "Feel free to hit him when you want to. You'll have me to reason out and save you from anything." You laugh lightly, head slowly focusing on your boyfriend. He shifts his attention back to Jisung, "Because I said so and it's the least of hospitality you must show."

Jisung groans, before reluctantly agreeing, "I have a huge appetite, so heads up." You stare at Jisung, head with thoughts far in the past than in the present.

Fuck appetite. Fuck Han Jisung. Figuratively, and if fortunate, quite literally. You have a ruined orgasm for the first time that night and all you have an appetite for is one — to be humble — mind-blowing orgasm to take you to the end of the world and back.

Your boyfriend is a gentleman.

In the years you have known Chan, you know for sure that heaven and hell is nothing but a lie. Ironically. The stigmatization of having to be only bad or only good is so skin deep in humans that the very thought of a devil being nice seems like an illusion. That is, if the whole concept of heaven and hell is not an illusion already.

Chan is nice. He is nice to you and that is all that matters to you. He treats you like a princess because you are his princess — the only person worth staying on earth for.

So when he lets the guys go ahead and pulls you behind a wall right before the huge living room of his apartment is in view, you know he has something to say. That, or he has a kiss to steal.

"Are you okay?"

Chan's eyebrows are furrowed, eyes softening in worry as his hands lift up to cup your face, thumb rubbing circles into your cheek. You break a smile, leaning forward to brush the tip of your nose against his and you place a delicate peck on the same spot.

"More than ever. I told you, baby, right? That I'll tap out the minute this gets too much for me."

"I'm just so worried. You've never—"

"Are you guys making out?" You hear Jisung's voice resonate against the walls and you turn your head, stifling the laughter that bubbles inside of you. Jisung yells again, "Chan, pasta!"

"I'm coming," he yells back, dropping his hand from your face. "I'm coming. Oh, if only Lucifer burnt you alive!"

"I'd have to be alive for that, ha!"

"Go," you chuckle, kissing his lips only to pull back in a short second. "I'll hang out with Changbin."

"He's. . ." Chan sighs. "Just remember to be comfortable, baby, okay?"

"I know. I trust them. Beyond everything, I trust you."

You hold Chan's hand in yours and pull him away from the shadows of the wall, bring him before his friends. Changbin raises an eyebrow at the two of you, before taking a step forward as Chan follows Jisung to the kitchen.

"That leaves us together alone for a while," Changbin suggests, arms folded over each other as he takes quicker steps towards you. He doesn't tower over you much but his entire persona that he broods is enough to make you whimper, lips to part unknowingly and eyes to widen in want. "I should probably introduce myself properly. I'm Changbin. I've known your boyfriend since forever. We became demons around the same time."

"Oh," you respond, mouth patching up with the excessive want.

"I'd like to get to know you, sweetheart?" Changbin is close enough for you to feel the warmth that exudes from his body. His arms drop for a small second before his right one lifts up. His thumb and forefinger grips on your chin to angle it up slightly for you to look at him properly. The name he calls you by makes you gasp under your breath, loving the endearment and he notices. Changbin notices how much the term has its effect on you in this minute.

"Do you like being called a sweetheart, princess? An angel, maybe? Do you like dressing up in pretty pink lingerie for Chan? Maybe you want to be a baby doll on top of me for the night?" Changbin lets go of your chin before taking a step back and walking towards Chan's sofa. He sits down on it, thighs spread apart as his arm rests on the side. His attention drifts back to you, lips quirking up in brief excitement. "Or despite dating one of the most sinful creatures ever to exist, you like being called a good girl?"

Your thighs clench together and you grip at the end of your skirt. Changbin laughs at the reaction he draws out from you. He taps on his thighs and beckons for you, "Why don't you come be a good girl on my lap, hm?"

You take shy steps towards him, before sitting on his thighs that he now has pressed together. Either of your legs dangle on the sides of his body and Changbin holds your hips as he pulls you closer. Your skirt crumpled up, exposing so much more to him and Changbin is in delight at how pretty you look on top of him.

"May I?" And you nod, mumbling a soft yes. His hand slowly trails above, starting from the point right above your knee joint. It's slow and sensuous for a soft second as his fingers slowly climb up your thigh before the tables turn over and Changbin's hand rips the panties from underneath your skirt and throws it to the side. Your eyes widen, cheeks heating up as you hold onto his shoulder at the sudden force.

"We won't be needing that for the night now, do we?"

You bite your lip and Changbin's hand hovers over your sodden lips from the previous encounter with Jisung. He rubs his palm over it as he locks his gaze with yours and asks, "Respond, princess. I need to hear you respond."

"No, we won't need that."

"That's my good girl," Changbin praises you and presses the heel of his palm into your clitoral region and you moan explicitly and unhinged. He rubs it slightly and your burning core oozes more of your arousal out into his hand, burning for that long forgotten orgasm you had hoped for. Using his other hand, he rips open your blouse, the top button letting free from the dress at all the harsh happenings it has been through for the night.

"Oh dear, look at that," Changbin clicks his tongue repeatedly before plunging his fingers into your core and pulling your bra down with his teeth at the same time, grazing slightly at your breast that it leaves you thrusting yourself on his fingers that drive hard into you.

You whimper, "Changbin, fuck," and he lets out an amused sound. He thrusts his two fingers in and out of you as he lips wrap around your nipple, lapping at it. He lets go momentarily, hot breath fanning all over your mound and he asks,

"Do you like this or maybe is it some pain that you like?"

And within a second, Changbin's teeth bite into the flesh by your mound. His unoccupied hand cups your mound, massaging it before flicking your nipple. Harshly. You gasp, head dropping forward as you lean into Changbin's chest, whimpering repeatedly.

"Baby girl likes that, doesn't she?" He flicks it again, pain shooting up your nerves and you slightly bite into his neck. He speaks into your skin. "She likes it a lot."

Changbin says he likes art. He talks about how he loves the purple colours that blend into the pink and then, the colours of your skin. He sucks on your bosom, littering the area around your areola with pretty, pretty marks all while his fingers are plunged deep inside of you, pads of the same rubbing your walls while his palm rubs the collected arousal into your core, pressing into your clit and stimulating it

Your senses are alert and every breath, every moan that is present in the air is hyperbolised in your ears. You can feel Changbin's rough fingers slowly pull out while his mouth trails down to wrap his lips around your areola, tongue wrapping around your nipple and he laps at it like a starved animal.

"Chan's too nice to you, too gentle, too kind to you. Treats you like some porcelain doll. I don't blame him for that," Changbin taunts you. He pulls his fingers out from your dripping core and his mouth leaves your breasts. Your walls contract at the sudden absence of his fingers and you grind down onto his thighs, expecting — begging more.

Changbin flicks at your stimulated clitoris. It sends a rush of both pain and pleasure intermingled up your spine, hitting your brain cells, leaving you lost and in a trance. He continues the mockery, "I usually don't fuck with humans. In fact, I even condoned Chan for doing that. No offense to you, baby girl, but humans are delicate, too fragile, for my taste. No matter how sex crazed or ravenous you are, you are still no match for a demon by comparison."

Changbin kisses up your neck, marking you up as he draws out his mockery. You think it is weird that this time round Changbin doesn't intimidate or anger you. Rather every word he says sends a trail of arousal shooting downwards, making you wetter with every passing second — making you anticipate for so much more. It is embarrassing at how wet you are from every single teasing you have been put throygh for the night.

"You may think Chan is different but he isn't, baby girl. He's just as demonic as we are, just as fucked up as every creature from hell is. He might hold back for you, but when you push his buttons well enough, you know he'll unleash it all. Even Jisung. The only difference between them and yours truly is that—" Changbin pauses. His lips quirk up and his hand unbuckles his belt, metal clinging as it comes undone. He unzips the pant and shoves it down as he lifts himself up with you with such ease that your fragile, weak and overstimulated self is in surprise. He pulls his dick out from his formal pants and it is hot, hard and everything you crave at this point.

You think it's unfair for a man with this big an ego to have this thick a cock and you were this close to blaming God for being unfair when you realise this isn't his territory. And history has proven that Lucifer has always been kind to his followers.

Changbin strokes his cock, thumb rubbing at the slit at the hot head. You salivate, almost ready to drip from the corner of your mouth when Changbin cuts your thoughts — filthy thoughts, too dirty to be spoken of; filthy, filthy thoughts on how heavy his cock would be on your mouth, on how wide his cock would stretch your mouth and how deep he'd go, perhaps all the way to your throat — and holds your thighs, pulling you closer into him to position you in such a way that his cock is straddled right between the flesh of both your thighs.

"The only difference between me and the other two, baby girl, is that," Changbin's voice drops an octave lower as he almost growls, "I don't make a habit of suppressing it at all. I can grab you by the throat just like this—" The demon holds you by your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck hovering right across your jugular and carotid, pressing them slightly. It is scary how you are here trusting a demon fully aware that an inch deeper and you would be accompanying him in your journey to the other world. Or mayhaps it's your trust in your boyfriend. Changbin's fingers are wrapped deliciously around your neck and your pussy leaks juices, coating his dick that is pressed against it. "—and thrust my dick so deep into you and fuck you so hard that your body, mind and soul is broken beyond repair."

Your mouth opens wide, tongue resting against your lower lip and Changbin spits into your mouth, ordering you instantly, "Swallow," and when you do, he lets go of your neck for a second, caressing the roughened area and mumbling, "You're a good, good girl for me, aren't you, baby girl?"

You nod, voice hoarse as you beg like a kitten in her worst heat, "Please, please, please—"

"Please what, baby girl? Use your words like the good girl you are."

"Fuck me, Binnie. Fuck me, fuck me. Need your dick in me. I'll be a good girl."

Changbin laughs loudly, almost as if he is mocking you. He is, because his fingers wrap around your neck once again as he thrusts his cock upwards. It slides against your wet lips, striking against your clit. "How could I fuck you when your thighs are this inviting? Look at how wet they are because of your arousal. You are leaking, baby. What a good whore."

"Binnie," you gasp, barely phrasing with his hold on your neck as he thrusts back upward. He holds your close as you equally grind on him. "Binnie, I want more. I want more."

"Be a good girl and I'll reward you, baby girl. Be a good girl and let me fuck your thighs." You nod and grind down. "How does it feel like, baby girl, to have my hard cock rubbing against you? Squeeze your legs tightly around me—" You wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his back. "Fuck, just like that."

The squelching sounds are loud and prominent. The friction of his cock rubbing against your wet skin is amplified in the silence. Your hips move slightly trying to get as much as contact possible on your clit. Your head is empty, voices hindered and you can only think of how badly you want to get fucked, how badly you want Changbin to treat you more roughly.

Changbin is vocal. Very, very vocal. He whimpers at every rub, moans loudly and grunts as you grind down on him. The filthy words that leave his mouth does not stop — "Your skin feels so warm and cool against my cock. Oh fuck, can you feel your clit throbbing against my dick, baby girl? You naughty little fucking thing."

His pace quickens as he thrusts further, grunting, "You are fucking delicious, baby girl. Chan's been keeping a whole asset away from us."

"Binnie, Binnie—" you moan, breasts rising and falling with every occasional jumping you do on his thighs to match the pace of his thrusts. "Choke me harder, please."

"What?"

"I want you to choke me harder."

"Fuck," and Changbin listens clearly. His fingers dig a little deeper and you are gasping, arousal dripping even more and staining his navy blue formal pants after coating his cock further. "Fucking grind on my cock. Baby girl, you are making me rethink my policy on humans."

"Ungh," you whimper when his cock stills and grinds onto your clit, focusing only on that. Changbin chuckles. His voice is laced with tease, "Easy there, baby girl. If my cock were to accidentally slip into your pussy, who knows what I might do."

"Please, please—" You barely speak out when Changbin's grip on your neck loosens for a bit.

"Did I fuck the words out of you, baby? Did I fuck you stupid? I haven't even fucked you with my dick yet and look at you already. You would want that right, baby girl? For me to fuck you dumb, fuck you stupid. I'll have you ride my cock till all you know is how to be a good girl for me and how to take my big fat cock."

"Yes, yes, yes—"

Changbin stops right when your whimpering increases, pitch shooting up higher and your chest rises and falls as he halts. However, in one swift motion, he pins you on the sofa, him on top of you and he stares at you. You are a disoriented mess, hair spilling onto your face and everywhere, clothes open partially but enough to spill everything and your legs — thighs specifically — are glistening in the lights.

"It sucks that you are Chan's girl, sweetheart? Do you think he'd mind sharing more than once?"

Changbin does not wait for your response. With the support of his hands, he brings his body down, head in direct contact with your skirt stained with your arousal and the precum that oozed out from his cock. He sucks deep purple marks into your thighs, trailing them all the way to your glistening core. And then, his mouth is on your sodden lips.

It's a miracle at how you are able to keep your eyes open. All the teasing this night has made your body heavy and yet, like some starving woman on sex steroid, your pussy aches for more. His lips are on your wet ones as he licks at the lips, pushing it apart as he takes in your arousal, lapping in to take it all. It is merciless. The demon he is, is marvellous, hot and a sex god at that. His tongue licks your lips, tip teasing your entrance as he rubs your clit, slowly. he draws small circles over it, tapping at the engorged button till your toes curl in, knees lift up to bend for your feet to press down. Your eyes are squeezed shut and your fingers pull at his hair every time you feel the knot tightening.

The room is filled with lewd noises and your moans are loud enough for everyone in the house to hear. Changbin licks stripes after stripes on your lips, lapping up your arousal as he hums in delight. Another stripe up your wet lips and he soon wraps his plump pair around your clit and sucks on it, loud noise of suckle resonating and causing you to move your hips slightly.

Changbin's sharp teeth graze over your clit, nibbling slightly till you feel the knot clench in your stomach. The vortex forms deep within you again, the sign of an impending orgasm and you can only pray that he doesn't leave you begging like Jisung did. It's coming. You are so close, again, for the second time this night and you needed it. You are sure that you would go crazy if you did not receive the release you had so prayed for. Changbin rubs your clit furiously, lips moving back to your cunt as he eats you out. Changbin's tongue flicks to perfection, hitting your sensitised bud over and over again till you snap and come undone all over his face, arousal squirting out and over his entire face.

Your legs quiver as Changbin laps it all up, tongue swiping across your lips till he has drunk every single drop of your arousal. Your eyes that were squeezed shut opens and you see the mess you have made on his face.

"Fuck, I'm sor—" You try to lift yourself up to help him when Changbin pulls you by your legs closer to him and wraps his lips on your clit, sucking on the bud till it borders overstimulation and you are screaming out in both pain and pleasure, your abdomen pitting at the sight of another orgasm with his actions.

"Binnie, fuck, oh fuck," Tears well up at the corner of your eyes on being overstimulated. You can feel your brain getting fuzzier, sense hyperbolic at everything around you. You are falling into something you are unfamiliar with. "I'm sensitive, fuck. I'm so sensitive."

He moves forward, overstimulating you and your eyes roll up at all your nerves being triggered to send the excess messages of stimulation to your brain, knots tightening and you are ready to combust once again until Jisung walks out of the kitchen, announcing, "Dinner's ready."

"Too bad I had my fill," Changbin sniggers, tongue extending out of his mouth to lick your arousal off the corners of his mouth. Your chest rises and falls and you try to focus in on something on the ceilings — ah, the spokes of the fan, yes. Three. Three. Three. Three. Changbin quickly notices the change in your demeanor, "Baby girl? You alright?"

"Princess?" Chan's rushing to your side as soon as he hears something is up with you. You giggle, laughing soon enough as you look up. Changbin stands up from your side, concern filling him when you start laughing. Jisung, on the other hand, walks to keep the pasta on the table behind the sofa. "Princess, are you there with me?"

It is the rush of endorphins that cloud your brain. Your heart beats fast, breathing rapid and it's a different kind of high you are in. You hold onto Chan's sleeve, giggles nonstop as you mumble in between, "Chan, uh, Chan! Chan!"

"I've got you, princess," he says softly, before wrapping his arm around your thighs and the other over your torso before lifting you up. "I've got you. I'm right here." You cling onto his shirt, snuggling into him as he verbally assures you.

He stops midway in his path, turns to look at two of his friends, especially glaring at Changbin, before firmly saying, "Eat and leave. I'll talk to you later. I have to take care of her."

"We could hel—"

"Not today. Not now. I'll—" Chan sighs, holding you closer to him as you mumble words incoherently, smiling to yourself. His face softens, as if he's trying to comfort Changbin who looks guilty for the first time before Chan in eons of years together. "We'll talk to you later."

"Okay."

"And guys?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for tonight. I know she liked it. A bit too much, if anything."

Chan holds you close.

So close to him that even the rush of endorphins in your brain isn't loud enough to hear how loud your own heart beats next to his faint beating one.

His arms wrap around your frame, hand holding your head close into his chest as he soothingly rubs the back of it and at every short interval, he coos into your head, "I'm right here, baby." Your body shifts to a relaxed position from the very tensile state it was in that second thanks to his voice, at his words and at his very being.

"Relax, baby. This is going to pass. You did so well, so, so well."

And you giggle into his chest, eyes closing warmly for a fraction there before looking up at him. Chan believes if synesthesia was a thing for demons, he would see the colours behind your eyes. How the crimson red slowly — so, so slowly — turned to darkest shades of pink and then the softest ones and Chan knows. He knows for sure that this is it. This is his whole world.

Chan feels jealous of humankind for the first time.

He is envious about how it would not be him that grows old with you, has kids with you and gets to be physical with you at every point. He knows he can't do that with you forever. He cannot do this with you forever. And even if he did decide to fuck it and do it anyway, you'd leave him one day.

Chan knows he could never do much. He cannot change fate or turn himself into human for you. That is impossible. And yet he hopes — ah, a dangerous thing for a demon to have, something they mustn't possess — that every moment he spends with you is infinite and never dies.

Your body tightens up again, goes rigid in his hold and he worries for you. That is Chan's first mistake, or so he believed years back. He cares for you. He cares for you in ways a demon shouldn't. He cares for you enough to know that demons have feelings or at the very least, he does. He cares enough to call it love.

"It's alright," he mumbles and you mumble back, "We couldn't spend time together tonight."

"It's still eight. We have time," Chan smiles and rubs the hair off your face, only to press a soft chaste kiss on your forehead. "We have a lot of time. You should rest. You were such a good girl tonight."

"I was," you hold onto his shirt before letting your hands trail underneath and Chan realises the endorphins are slowly calming down, keeping you in a safer position than you were minutes back. "Wasn't I, daddy?"

"Princess, you really had a lot today, do you—"

"I want to. I—" You kiss Chan, hands cupping his face and lips pulling at his before letting your tongue twine with his. You moan unknowingly as your body rises to lean further into him. Your fingers graze the small stubble by the side of his jaws as you find yourself getting lost in him, in the feeling of his hot tongue lapping around yours.

"Mmh," Chan moans before holding your jaw tighter, leg wrapping around your frame. In a swift motion, he pins you down underneath him as he still kisses you. His lips are beyond tempting as you draw every kiss out, draw every moan out from him. He pulls back the minute you lift your hips to grind onto his crotch, feeling himself against your bare core. "We should stop—"

"No. You're my Valentine. Not Changbin or Jisung. You'll always be my Valentine," you respond, tugging him down into you by his shirt. Chan's eyes widen before softening as he looks at you — looks at you like you are everything better than him, hell and afterlife.

"But you really had it rough today and—"

"I want more. I want so much more rough and I want them from my boyfriend. No one else." Your hand grades the stubble again and Chan leans into your hold. "The fact that you've never been rough with me and that I had to hear about it from Changbin and Jisung did no good to my ego, baby."

"They were—" Chan pauses on his own this time. You don't interrupt or cut him. He knows he can't lie to you. He knows how much he holds back but Chan knows that he has no issue with that. It's a safer option for you and yet here you are tonight asking him to be himself, be everything he is and show you how far he can go — he was going to fucking lose it at that alone.

"You know they were not lying," your voice lower. "They are demons, you had said, and that I should be careful. But Chan, baby, you are a demon too. So why do you hold back? Is it because I'm a human?"

"Yes," Chan reluctantly agrees and you sigh. You drop your hand from his face and Chan's lips pucker in response. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You know you won't," you reassure him. "You could never hurt me unknowingly and even if you did, you know you'd take care of me till I'm back to the same."

"There shouldn't be a situation that leads to the worst case scenario, Y/N."

"But I want that. I want you to show me everything and I want to know if I'd like that. Give me a choice. I—" You gulp, scared of telling it out loud finally now that you have come to a partial conclusion to it yourself. "I liked Changbin being rough on me. I liked it a lot. I liked Jisung edging me. I liked it so much that all I could think about till Changbin touched me was of Jisung giving me an orgasm."

Chan's hand presses down by the sheets adjacent to your face and he holds it tightly. If care was an emotion he shouldn't have felt, jealousy is another that should never have a place in a demon's mind. Especially not when they were all brought up with the thought of sharing.

He hates how Changbin got to be rough with you before him. Something so petty and so, so territorial arises in him that he wasn't even aware for him to feel this. He knows he gave consent. He knows he was there to hear it all and yet hearing you say you liked it brought in exactly two emotions in him that conflicted each other so much that he knew he was going feral — a) delight, over you being so content and over you being so understanding of demonic natures and b) jealousy, over another demon having had you in ways only he had before.

"Chan?"

"Yes?"

"You were lost there for a minute."

"You promise me you'll tell me to stop if it gets too much, right?"

"Always," you peck at his lips. "I'll always do that. I just want everything you are and you have to offer. I don't want to know stuff from others. I want to feel them through you."

And Chan kisses you again. This time however, it is a lot different from the previous kiss you drew out from him. His lips find home in yours as they come upon you, imperatively. The kiss gets deeper each time, tongues chasing and lapping each other, earning continuous whines and whimpers coming out from both of you. Your arms wrap themselves around his neck, your fingers trailing up his nape to his hair, gripping the small hair at his back and Chan kisses you passionately, his hands cupping and tilting your face, angling it so that he could intensify the kiss as he desired.

He's desperate to show you everything he is.

The very second your mouth had brushed his, Chan knows that you are the one for him. It had always been you. Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could feel the tingle over his lips and your warm breath wafting over his chin. It is exactly as he had carved in his mind, etched so deep that it could never fade away.

His hand is prominent on its grip on your neck, as you lift your chin higher — so you can press your lips harder into his — while your hands fist into his shirt — white, clean and perfect all for the night only for it to be discarded to the very corner of the bedroom the two of you share. His free hand drops to wind around your waist, arm pressed between the bed and you and in one swift movement, he pulls your body flush against his.

Gasping at the motion, Chan seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue between your teeth, your lips parting further in response. His tongue swipes across yours, curling around your tongue and gently massaging it. The metal ball at the tip of his tongue provides a sharp coldness and you hiss into his mouth, only for him to provide more contact with the metal that it leaves you emitting moans into him.

It is electrifying. Every single thing with Chan has been exciting, unpredictable and leaves you begging for more. It is perhaps mankind's adhesive nature towards sin itself that made you like this — that made you into such a moldable clay in his hands and you don't mind going to hell for this. Because every single moment you lived on earth, if it were with him, would be relentlessly passionate. You would never want to swap with anything, even if someone handed heaven to you on a platter.

Because Chan is your heaven.

When you feel his tongue flick against yours, slightly, grazing it, your hands uncurl from his shirt - only to wind up his chest, along his throat, towards the nape of his neck. You find yourself lapping around the metal ball on his tongue, rolling your eyes shut.

With every passing second, you find yourself drowning into Chan. His body is pressed flat against yours, chest against yours, his saccharine taste coating your senses till that is all you can think about, and his warm breath all over your face. You find yourself drowning into him — you always have — his entire presence encasing your senses as you lose yourself deep into his entire being.

Is this how people were dragged into hell? Tempting.

Chan pulls back and you smile at your boyfriend, like a little girl happy to have received her candy. You glance down at your shirt that is half open as a result of everything that happened tonight and proceed to unbutton the rest and remove it off your body. Chan's eyes linger more than ever on the marks that Changbin has left all over your body — marks that have turned dark purplish red and he seethes at the very sight of it in anger.

"If we do this again, on your request, of course," Chan kisses over all the marks slowly, taking his own time to lick it over with his tongue before pressing his lips against it. "I'm going to be physically present. Not going to let anyone mark my baby up like this. That's for me."

And Chan sucks over it. His hand goes behind your back to unhook your bra and toss it aside. His hand lands firm on your breast, fingers playing with your nipple as his mouth slowly moves down to kiss your other nipple before sucking on it, lewd sounds emitting from his mouth.

"Daddy, fuck—" Your back arches, hips jutting upwards into his pelvis only to feel his covered growing length rough against your sticky skin. Chan uses his free hand to hold onto your waist and lift you slightly, allowing you to hook your leg over his waist, tight enough to tease you.

Chan hums in approval as you grind up, exposed core moving and staining your favorite formal pants of his, all while his tongue laps at your areola. The metal ball right at the centre of the tip of his tongue is pressed to your nipple and the difference in temperature has your mind spiralling.

His palm squeezes your breast, thumb running over your nipple before he purposefully leans down and gives you a taste of his warm mouth. You gape open at the contact of his mouth on your nipple, teeth purposely grazing against the skin only for the metal ball to soothe over the burn.

Puckering his lips, he presses them to the sensitive spot by your jugular before sucking harshly. Responsively, a low mew resounds from your lips, leaving them in the open for just you and him to hear to.

"Do you remember the safe word?"

You nod, "Red for you to stop, yellow for you to give me time and green for you to proceed."

"Perfect," and Chan moves so quickly to remove your skirt off your body as he hovers over your completely naked self, fully clothed. You have always wondered if Chan would ever be into power play, especially with how he could project himself sometimes. Like in moments like these. You make a note in your head to ask him about the very thing.

Chan kisses your lips, tugging at your lip before dipping himself further, getting lost in you. He rubs his tongue across your lower lip, metal ball harsh against your coral lips. He kisses your cheek and then, your pinna.

You feel his warm breath against your ear, shuddering in impact. You are about to ask him to stop teasing you — that you've had enough foreplay the whole night. However, in the next second, his hand lowers and lands on your inner thighs in a loud spank and you gasp, not expecting it. He hits the same skin almost a second after before the pain recedes and you are moaning out loud, brain wiring differently as heat pools between your legs.

“Fuck," he swears under his breath. His hand edges closer to you, dangling so close to your core that he can feel your arousal by your thighs, all over again and over the dried ones by your thighs. "You’re so dripping wet,” Chan mutters, only to laugh and comment, "At least I can credit this to myself."

Chan leans forward, next to your ear again and mumbles, "Baby, I'll be using words that would come off as very demeaning but I need you to know that I would never use them unless we are in the mood. You are and will be my baby girl, my princess forever. Is that alright?"

"It is," you blush, heat shooting straight to the core and you can feel yourself leak further, embarrassingly, right when Chan's hand is so close to your lips.

"Fuck, you are dripping. Such a filthy whore," Chan taunts and you feel it, deep in your gut. You've never seen this side to Chan but fuck, you love it. You love it more than Changbin having called you a good girl. You want to be called a whore, a slut — as long as you were his whore, his slut.

Chan collects the arousal that you drip out, coating his fingers and palm. Moving his fingers, he collects your arousal that leaks from your gaping hole and watches the transparent stick to his fingers. The bulge in his pants is hard and seems too painful to be confined. You gulp evidently, throat parched. Chan's hand edges closer towards your lips and languidly strokes your slit with his fingers coating in your arousal. The pads of his finger circles your hole and you mewl, clutching slightly onto his shoulder.

"Daddy, please, need your fingers in me."

"You've been fucked by two demons already and you are still so horny," he scoffs. "Impressive." He raises an eyebrow. Almost like he is teasing you further, he continues to play with your cunt. You whimper, gasping and hoping to feel the burn of the stretch that would come with him thrusting his fingers up.

Each small action Chan does has you moving forward in pleasure, hoping for the same as you try to move with his hand, all in an attempt to drive his digit deeper into you. Nonetheless, Chan controls the pressure and the pace and no matter how hard you try to move, he never lets you have his way, clearly showing that it was him in power here, not you. Growing tired of his teasing, anticipation filling you to insanity, tears brimming your eyes, you whine, “Fucking hell, Ch— Daddy, come on."

Chan chuckles, kissing your clavicle, biting into the skin above and sucking furiously enough to mark you. You sigh, breath exhaled out desperately. "Please, please, pl— Ah!"

Chan hits your core with the pads of his finger, labia silently flapping in impact and you moan at the pain that shoots up from your sensitive core. This causes you to moan, body moving forwards in a surprised reaction. The palm hitting the clit sends electric sparks throughout your body, your brain almost fusing. The sound is sharp as it rings through the air before you feel pain along the vulva. Crying in pain, you mumble softly out before holding to him softly, “Please,” you implore. "I need you, daddy."

The sensation of the pad of his thumb swiping against your swollen, needy bud causes you to buck into him, your cunt soon contracting around nothing. Chan mumbles as he lowers his body silently, kissing your skin on his way. He kisses the skin right above your acetabulum, tracing his lips down till he kisses your core, a soft peck over it.

It is a stark difference in your clothing that takes you aback; of how you were completely naked while Chan was completely clothed and yet that excited you. The power he has is enough to have you ooze out more arousal that would prompt the sheets to stain further.

Chan licks at your core, once, twice and then he is sucking at your clit, like a man walking days in a desert with no water source. His mouth is against your core, licking on it, the cold wet metal ball pressing against it, before he sucks on your engorged button. The lewd noises that leave your mouth are pornographic and your legs have lost their strength.

You are about to say a word before Chan curls his fingers up into you and your back arches slightly at the feeling of his fingers in you. "D-Daddy!"

You feel Chan searching your walls for the spot he has felt enough that he finds it in a few minutes. He rubs against the same spot that brings the loudest reaction from you before dragging his fingers back slowly only to slip his fingers easily into you again, the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs. The sheets are stained. His pants are stained and so is his white shirt.

"No demon I've fucked before would have sex this close to being out of the world. Fuck, princess. Your slutty pussy is clutching onto my fingers." He rubs your walls and your enlarged button. Your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately as you press into him.

Chan's fingers are fast as they thrust in and out of your core. You could find yourself getting wetter and wetter with the lewd sounds that resonate the walls. The demon presses his metal piercing flat against your clit and you gasp. "F-Fuck, Daddy!"

And as Chan sucks on your button of nerves, his fingers thrusts into you at a relentless pace, pushing right at the spot that has you feeling the endorphins spilling into your bloodstream. You feel the knot that tightens in your stomach, ready to fall over the cliff till Chan's teeth graze your clit and you lose it.

“Come for me, my princess,” Chan urges. His command, paired with the way his tongue dances across your clit and how his rough thick fingers drags against your sweet spot, has you careening off of the brink of pleasure and into an oblivion. You can feel your bloodstream soaking slowly with the rush of endorphins. You need a moment to calm down from how good that orgasm is, as Chan slowly rubs you through your high.

You think Chan is about to drag his fingers out of you and away when he picks up the speed of his fingers. He toys with your sensitive clit.

"Daddy, ah—" You feel the pain slightly of being overstimulated, slowly getting intense and intense. You are crying and he slows down, looking into your eyes, expecting a colour to be screamed and when you don't, smiling softly, he continues, kissing you and swallowing every cry you have.

You feel your skin standing at the very precipice of being sensitive to anything. In a split second without any warning, his mouth still on you, Chan holds your clit between his forefinger and thumb before twisting it and instantly, you feel something deep within you tighten up.

That was it. Your breath is disoriented. Your jaw falls loose and you let out a loud cry as a powerful orgasm cuts right through you. Chan drops his hand on to the bed as you squirt on being overstimulated. Your arousal soaks his shirt, fabric sticking to his body and he is amused. Your thighs shake, quivering uncontrollably as your back curves, body lifting up. Chan's other arm wraps around you as he kisses you through this. Your muscles tremble, ache and are sour. Eventually, you find your hips stopping gradually as you fall victim to the pleasure, squirting slowly receding. His hand is covered in your juices and he chuckles against your lips after pulling back, placing you lightly on your back.

"That was so fucking hot," he looks at you proudly, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes are closed, post that powerful orgasm, tears staining your cheeks. He moves only after your eyes open, making sure you are alright and are able to breath right.

"Daddy," you smile and Chan smiles brighter. That's his girl. That's his girl, alright.

"You've got my shirt messy, princess." He chuckles and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as your head drops to the side to look away. Chan holds your face with his messy hands and kisses you, drawing out another long kiss to rid you away from any other thoughts besides ones of fucking him tonight.

You pull away and mumble, "It's not fair that you were dressed completely in the first place."

"Is that so now?"

"Yes," you huff and your hand trails up Chan's arm, fingers digging into his arm. "It's a damn bother."

Chan unbuttons his shirt, taking his own time with it as his fingers roll against them before popping the material out of hold from the button. Your hand lies in wait by his waist, fingers rubbing against the curve of his ass and you stare up at him. With every button that he maneuvers his shirt out of, you can see his tattoos more and more clearly.

The feathers that poke out through the corner of his shoulder, flat on the coracoid process, more present superficially right above his clavicle, are detailed. You can see the feathers variant in their styles as they fall from a greater source that lies behind him.

Chan's tattoo had always been magnificent, as if they were rebuking the almighty as he acknowledged his very being. The ends of the black feathers also tease into the head of his biceps. Two beautiful wings, bold and powerful, arise from his spine and exhibit loudly on his back.

Your mouth gapes open at the sight of it as Chan bends forward to unbutton his pants, the wings clearly visible to you and your heart leaps at the sight of it. Chan raises an eyebrow at you, staring down at his tattoo, as soon as he pulls down his pants.

"Ah, the tattoo kink," he chuckles. "How could I forget."

"It's not a thing," you blush.

"Please," he laughs, eyes wrinkling soon. "There's no way you could lie to me, princess."

You blush. Crunching forward, you stretch your arms, fingers pointing to draw against the outline of the wings. "It's beautiful," you whisper. "It's so fucking beautiful, Chan." He chooses to ignore the call of his name because nothing else would sound sweeter in this moment than his name itself. What you would do to give everything in wrapping your lips around his flesh by the corners of the wings and to ruin it with your own marks.

He unsheathes himself off the confines of his undergarment. Chan has always been bigger in comparison to every single one you had seen, girth firmer than you had envisioned and the frenum piercing has you salivating. It shines under the dim lighting of your room, your eyes unable to drift away from it, lips parted slightly.

You let out a small mewl — the walls of your core throbs against his member at the sensations of the piercings rubbing against the same — enhancing both your senses. Chan notices how your thighs quiver and he raises his eyebrows in sheer amusement.

"You really don't fail to surprise me, princess," Chan sniggers. "Look at you eye fucking me all while I just unstrip."

"Please," your eyes glisten and Chan coos. "Please. Need your cock in me, daddy. Need your big fat cock to fill me up and stuff me stupid." Your hands move down to hold his engorged length in your hand, rubbing the metal balls on the head with your fingers and feeling the coldness in a sharp contrast to his hot girth.

"You've been such a good, good whore tonight. Daddy's going to reward you well. So well." His hand trails down your frame and you shudder as they move down your sides.

Chan moves slightly, his hands bracing on either side of yours. The strong muscles of his arms twitch as he bears the entirety of his body weight on them. You push your body upwards and you stretch your arms up. You run your hands over his naked shoulders and his back, grazing his tattoo a little more before tangling your fingers into his hair as you tug him further over you.

A soft gasp slips from your mouth when his weight presses over you: his defined chest over yours and his hips pressing into yours in the most enticing way. His cock brushes against your thighs slicken in your arousal and you moan. The metal ladder framing underneath his shaft is cold against your skin and you can feel the goosebumps that arise atop your skin all the way to spread the heat to your core.

Chan's arms wrap around your body, holding you so close to him that your chests brush against each other. You feel his hardened erection sharp against your thighs, brushing against your core and you whimper in his hold. "Please."

"Please what, princess?"

"Fuck me, daddy."

Chan's lips crash onto your swollen ones with a force that has to be reckoned. He grinds his heavy cock into your core, rubbing over your clit. It leaves you moaning, holding onto his deltoids with a ferocious grip, fingers digging into the muscle.

Holding onto the opportunity that presents itself to him, Chan seizes and dives his tongue right into your mouth. They glide across your tongue, your body arching in pleasure. You feel the metallic ball of his piercing run over your tongue in a wistful want, you wrap your own around it before kissing him at the same intensity. Chan's groan hits back through the air in barely a whisper as you swallow most of the sound. Immediately, you let go of his lips and your hand reaches out for his cock slowly coated in precum, you squeeze it softly.

Before you can think straight, you can sense Chan holding his cock in his hand to position himself and with a mere grunt, he enters through your twitching core. His thick girth pushes your walls apart as they move further down into you. Your grip on his deltoid slips to his biceps, desperate to catch hold of something. All that leaves your mouth are parched breaths and desperate moans.

The lewd noises from his dick seeping through your wetness to enter you and stretch you out resonates through the wall only to hit back to both of your ears. Chan's gaze shifts downwards to watch his cock spread open your lips and disappear into your being — all it does to the demon is excite him more.

You feel the piercings against your wall, dragging across your softness. The slight dentations cause you to moan as Chan moves it against it over and over again, ensuring to hit your spot as much as possible with every thrust.

"You're dripping all over my cock, fuck," he grunts as he slips out only to thrust back in carefully. You grind back this time round, trying to match his pace with your fragile body. It takes you aback when you feel Chan grow into his complete girth inside you, stretching you out with an intense burn.

"Daddy," you choke out, words caught in the back of your throat. "Too big, ah."

“No, it’s not, princess," he bites his lip. "We both know you can take it. You're doing so well,” Chan coos. You find him slowing down with every thrust, making sure you are alright. His fingers ghosts right adjacent to your side, caressing your breasts with affectionate touches.

Slowly, the pain fades away, only to be replaced by a rush of pleasure with every thrust. The hard metal of his piercings drag against the sensitive nerves of your wet core, enough to stimulate every other nerve in your body, rubbing it over and over again.

Chan notices your face calming and how you were truly living in the moment. He takes this as a sign enough to thrust quicker, metal piercings striking the spot furiously. The sudden intrusion has your lips parting, eyes rolling back and tongue falling out in ecstasy. Your thighs, that quake, spread apart to take more of him, to let him have more control over you. Your walls clamp down on him, holding his cock tightly and magnifying the thick length of his. The moment his length pokes at the end of your cervix, you jerk, throat drying up instantly as a reaction. He was so thick and so full that he reached all the way to your cervix, ready to show you what it truly is like being fucked by a demon.

Chan grunts as he presses his hand down on your belly after pressing a short kiss. There is a slight bulge and Chan loves how you are, almost as if you are made for him. This leads your wall to press around him. His length pulses against your walls and you feel him completely, in his length and girth. Your walls ripple around his length accepting him completely — in his large, engorged, thick length.

"Fuck, I love this. Hell, I love how your juices coat my length and your lips kiss around my cock. Perfectly fitting my cock as if you were made for me,” he mutters. "Aren't you? You're mine. All mine."

“So pretty, princess,” he coos. With every thrust of his length into you, your body is jolted back and forth, rocking the bed loudly, at an impeccable strength along with your boyfriend's.

In between all the thrusts of his cock, the way his piercings mercilessly drags inside you, triggering every single nerve bundle ever to exist in your body, you feel the clouds of euphoria come at your being. You slowly find yourself losing your being into the sheer bliss of Chan's actions.

With one more rough thrust, you are unable to hold back and with a loud cry, you come undone around Chan's cock. Feeling your walls clamp vigorously around his length, he lets out a deep growl and continues to thrust his hips into you. It is these thrusts that draw out your orgasm, bringing forth waves of bliss and euphoria, slowly seeming to shut down all your senses. The results of your intense orgasm still fluctuate through you. Your thighs tremble and toes curl. Your walls wrap so tightly around his cock that it drives him close.

His cock pulsates in your warmth and you know it too. "Oh fuck! That’s it, princess,” Chan groans out. He thrusts back into you messily, trying to keep up with the same initial pace. However, he falls out of the same relentless thrusting in the pursuit of his own orgasm. Burying his cock as deep into you, he erupts inside of you. He plays with your clit and comes undone in your core as he swears under breath, unfiltered compliments showered upon you.

His thick cum fills you up. Buried deep, he empties everything of his load, coating your walls with thick stripes of his residue. Slowly, you find yourself back to your senses, body more alive, having ridden yourself of the giddiness of your orgasm. Your body shudders under him in your haze of orgasm.

Chan pulls out his softened cock out from you, glistening under the coated mixture of yours and his orgasm. He holds you close and rubs the side of your face gently as he compliments you, "You did so well, princess. I'm proud of you."

You kiss his lips in response, a soft, chaste one. Chan continues showering you with compliments as he falls by your side, holding you close into his sweaty naked being. He lifts himself soon enough to attend to you when you pull him down, locking him with your grip on his wrist.

"Let me take care of you, baby."

"Five minutes more, please." You look at him with a puppy like expression and Chan sighs, knowing fully well that there would be no way that he could deny your request.

"Fine, princess," he rubs your hair away from your forehead and pulls you impossibly closer into his chest.

"Chan?"

"Hm?"

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby."

Chan chuckles, kissing the top of your head and then your forehead as he teases, "You worked too much for a Valentine's Day, baby."

"Please," you stretch the syllable and speak into Chan's chest. "If anything, it is the wildest one I've ever lived to attend."

And as Chan holds you through the night, attending and taking care of you, his phone beeps soon enough,

[1] Voicemail from Changbin Happy Valentine's Day, beautiful and to you too, Chan. Call me back when you hear this. Bye.

[1] Message from Jisung This is how technology works??!!!! Oh my God. Fancy. Anyhow, Happy Valentine's Day. This goes down in my history as best Valentine's Day ever, bitches. P.S. Best sex ever too. Let's have a foursome sometime soon.

#straykidsland #stray kids smut #skz smut #chan smut #jisung smut #changbin smut #han smut #bang chan smut #kpop smut #3racha smut #chan x reader #jisung x reader #changbin x reader #writings.rue #skz imagines #skz scenarios #this is unedited and is just smut plis #so heads up for errors

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Crush

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 3,349 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Crushes, Fluff and smut, Rough sex, Unprotected sex, Manhandling Summary: Hotch has had a crush on the new member of his team for as long as he can remember. He keeps his distance, but he knows everything about her—her favorite snacks, how she takes her coffee. They share a room on a case, and at first, he's nervous, but being around her is comfortable, and he longs for more. Is it possible she feels the same way about him? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below!

Aaron has a crush on the newest member of his team. There’s no use denying it, or trying to compartmentalize it and pretend it doesn’t exist; it’s inappropriate, irresponsible, and just plain stupid, but he can’t talk himself out of it no matter how hard he tries. He is completely infatuated with her, whether he likes it or not.

And he does like it, sometimes. Sometimes, she will catch his eye on the jet, or in the office, shoot him a soft smile, and his heart beats fast, his chest feels warm. He thinks, I might never get to be with her, but she does think of me, and that’s something, at least.

Sometimes, he hates it, especially times like these, when they’re all on the jet and Morgan is using every ounce of his charm and charisma, the easy smile he doesn’t think twice about flashing, to try to get her to go out on a date with him. She hasn’t accepted the offer yet, and he’s been trying for about five months, almost the entirety of her career at the BAU, but that doesn’t make Aaron feel any better.

He knows Morgan very well. He’ll convince her eventually, and even if it doesn’t go anywhere, he’ll think about the two of them together all the time and never be able to stop. It will take his (mostly) innocent crush to a darker place, a place of anger and jealousy he’s not proud of, but has no control over.

“I would take you on the most incredible date of your life, mama. Dinner, dancing, a moonlit stroll; we go out for a couple of drinks, maybe I'll try to steal a kiss...”

“Maybe I’ll punch you in the face...” she says with a smirk, but he knows flirting when he hears it, and her threat carries no weight. Morgan shrugs, grins.

“Maybe, but I can take a punch. You need a man, and I am fully prepared to be that man; one little love tap won’t stop me.” She raises her eyebrows, looks over at him with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, first thing’s first: I don't do love taps, I do right hooks, so don't tempt me. Second, I don’t need a man, I want a man, and not just any man will do. When I want something, I want something specific. If I want dessert—”

Cherry cheesecake, Aaron thinks. He’s seen her order it three times, is slightly obsessed with the sound she makes when she takes the first bite.

“—I want cherry cheesecake or nothing. Not chocolate, not strawberry. If I want a glass of wine—”

Pinot Grigio if she wants white, Merlot if she wants red—she almost never wants red.

“—I want Pinot Grigio or nothing. If I have to have red, I’ll order Merlot, but I won’t be happy about it. When we’re on a case and I can’t sleep, and I come out to stare at the vending machine for a midnight snack—”

She either gets peanut butter crackers, or barbeque chips. That’s an easy one. Morgan has to know that.

“—I’ll get barbeque chips, or peanut butter crackers, or nothing. I am uncompromising when it comes to the things I want. So, Derek Morgan,” she says with a smirk, and a bit of attitude; it only makes Morgan smile brighter, and Aaron refrains from rolling his eyes, “when I want a man, I want a specific type of man, and I won’t be worn down no matter how many times you ask me out.”

“And what specific type of man do you want?” he asks, crossing his arms. Everyone is paying attention to their conversation, even Aaron, though he tries to pretend he isn’t.

“Well for starters, a man. You’re acting like a guy right now, and I’m not interested in guys.” JJ says ooh, burn, and everyone laughs. “I want a man who knows who he is, even if who he is isn’t pleasing to everyone. I want a man who isn’t afraid to feel vulnerable, who can be tender, who doesn’t run from a situation just because it makes him emotional. I want a man who pays attention to me when it counts, not just when he wants something. I want a man who will respect my boundaries,” she says, a little pointed, “who will help me grow but not try to change me. Most importantly, I want a man who can handle me, and I don’t think you can handle me.”

Aaron blinks hard at that. He’s pretty certain he could handle her, absolutely wants to.

“Alright, I can’t argue with a woman who knows what she wants, and it’s obvious you know what you want,” Morgan says, palms up in surrender. “Let me know when you find the lucky guy—man—so I can warn him about you.”

“Baby, I am the warning,” she says with a wink, and Aaron shifts in his seat.

It’s going to be a long flight to California. When they get to the hotel, JJ hands out the room assignments as usual, and he’s very surprised when she hands her a key out of the envelope marked 313, and then does the same for him. JJ shrugs.

“They didn’t have any singles, I guess. We’re all doubled up.” The other woman adjusts her bag on her shoulder, looks up at him.

“Is that a problem? I promise I won’t disturb you,” she says with a smile, and he shakes his head and, hopefully, his nervousness.

“No, of course it’s not a problem. Thanks, JJ. Looks like we’re this way,” he says, guiding her down the hall.

Their room is a little cramped, but clean, and he takes the bed closest to the door, sets his bag on it. She walks past him, throws her bag on the other bed and puts her hands on her hips, stares down at the ground. It takes him a moment to understand why.

“We could probably move your nightstand against the wall, share the one in the middle.” She looks up, confused, and he rubs the back of his neck. “You need room to lay down your yoga blanket, right? I know you’ve mentioned before that it helps put you to sleep when we’re traveling.” A brilliant smile curves across her face.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was trying to figure out. Thanks.” He moves to help her, but she lifts the table easily, tucks it in the corner between the desk and the lamp. She rolls out her blanket, pulls an outfit out of her bag. “I’m just going to get changed, and then the bathroom is all yours; I’ll be out of your hair.”

“It’s no trouble,” he says, and he means it; she just nods and smiles again, ducks into the bathroom to change her clothes.

Her outfit is… it’s tight, for lack of a better description, a strappy sports bra and patterned leggings; she does a lot of bending, and stretching, and balancing, her body strong and sleek. He tries to go about his business, but he can’t stop looking.

Once he’s finally able to convince himself to look away, lest she get suspicious of his inactivity, he changes his clothes, takes off his watch and sets it beside his gun, badge, and phone on his side of the nightstand. He pulls out his tablet to get caught up on the news, and it’s actually kind of comforting, the soft hum of her breathing the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

He doesn’t realize she’s finished until she walks around between the beds, grabs her badge off the nightstand and slides her credit card out from behind her photo ID. “Heading to the vending machine; need anything?” she asks, and he shakes his head—he already brushed his teeth—earning one of her soft smiles.

She grabs her key, slips out the door, and returns a few minutes later with a pack of peanut butter crackers and a bag of peanut M&Ms—his guilty pleasure. She tosses them onto the bed beside him, and her lips twitch, and she strolls into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

He eats his M&Ms and does not imagine what she looks like wet.

Ultimately, he’s happy she was so thoughtful to bring him a snack, but that does mean he needs to brush his teeth again. The bathroom door is open, steam wafting out, so he figures it’s safe to enter while she finishes getting ready for bed. She’s standing at one of the double sinks, wrapped up in a fluffy white towel, brushing her teeth, and he steps up beside her and prepares to do the same.

It’s pleasant, companionable, the familiar sounds of scrape-scrub-spit, and then she washes her face with some foamy, herbal scented concoction he couldn’t begin to identify. He washes his with soap and a little hot water, and she cringes; he frowns.

“What is it?” he asks, toweling off. She hesitates a moment, then flicks open a blue bottle, squeezes a bit of cream into her hands, and lifts them toward his face, pausing with a question in her eyes. He swallows, but leans in closer, and she rubs it over his cheeks, his chin, his forehead.

“Soap like that isn’t good for your skin, not even for guys, and I figured you don’t moisturize. This stuff is unisex, and it will keep you looking young and fresh and handsome; you can have this one, I’ve got more.” She pulls back, washes her hands, and he’s left kind of dazed, longs for the feel of her hands on his face again. That was an unexpected, but very welcome, thing. The next morning, he’s up early, so he showers and gets dressed and then heads down to the lobby for some coffee and a paper. He grabs two cups, stacks them in his hand when he goes to unlock the door to their room; she is awake when he returns, freshly dressed, hair pulled back, and she takes the coffees from his hand before he spills them everywhere.

“Thanks. The one on the left is for you; two sugars,” he says offhand, grabbing his cup and setting it down on the nightstand, flipping open the paper. He sits down on the edge of the bed closest to the nightstand, doesn’t notice her smile, but she settles on her bed across from him, sips her coffee, and reaches up to pull the sports section out from between his fingers. He maybe cracks a smile of his own. That evening, they get back to the room a little cranky, another late night full of dead end leads, and she skips yoga and heads straight for the shower. The blissfully hot water feels good against her skin, and she thinks about touching herself, but it wouldn’t be appropriate, not with Hotch just outside the door.

The thought only makes her hotter, but still, she refrains.

When she’s wrapped up in her towel, she pushes open the door like the night before, starts brushing her teeth, and it’s not long before Hotch fills the space beside her, copying her actions. She washes her face, and he washes his with soap again—so, so wrong—but at least he uses the moisturizer she gave him afterward. Baby steps.

He leaves the room, and she follows him out to grab her pajamas, sees a bottle of water and a bag of barbeque chips laying on her bed.

Enough is enough, she thinks. She wasn’t sure, until they shared this room, but now she’s 100% certain that Hotch has a thing for her, and she’s harboring her own thing, which is stupid. If she wants him (she really, really does) and he wants her, why aren’t they naked already?

Thankfully, that’s easily remedied. She drops her towel, and Hotch looks up from his tablet, drops his jaw.

“I’ve been thinking about last night; how shy you were about our sharing a room. It made me wonder if you’re shy about other things, too.” She walks around her bed, stands between them, presses her fingers to his tablet to push it down, out of his hands. “Are you shy, Hotch?”

“No,” he says roughly, making no effort to conceal the way his eyes sweep over her naked body. She’d blush, but she’s not the blushing type.

“No?” She climbs up, settles in his lap—he’s tenting his boxers already and it makes her feel awesome—and his hands fall to her thighs, spread around him, squeezing roughly. She moans, rolls her hips slowly. “Do you think you can handle me, Hotch? I’m kind of a lot.”

He answers with his hands, grabs her face and pulls her down for a long, dirty, messy kiss. Her chest is heaving by the end of it, and she’s definitely leaving a wet patch on his underwear, she’s so fucking horny. He tips her back, so she’s laying against the sheets, tugs off his shirt, and drapes himself on top of her, tilts her head to the side so he can get his mouth on her neck.

“Oh my god, mmm,” she sighs as he sucks on her throat, grinding his clothed dick against her, and she moves her hands down to sweep them over his body, but he grabs them, pins them up by her head instead. “Fuck, Hotch.” It leaves her mouth as a trembling gasp, and he looks up at her, his eyes dark and hard; he growls out a command for her to stay—she’s sure as shit not going for a damn stroll any time soon—and leans up, pushes his boxers down, and flips her body over.

She’s laying a little sideways, kind of lined up with the bottom corner of the bed—it always makes her feel like a complete whore to fuck anywhere but right up against the pillows, so this alone is enough to get her super hot. He gets both broad palms on her ass, squeezes her hard enough to hurt (and damn if that doesn’t make her pussy drip) and then slowly slides his fingers over her slit, making her toss her head back and groan.

“Oh, yeah. So, so good,” she sighs as he rubs her, spreads her wetness between her lips, over her clit and her mound so she’s sticky and soaked and begging for more, and then he plants his hands on either side of her and thrusts in so hard she has to dig her fingers into the sheets or she’ll go skidding off the bed. “Holy fuck,” she gasps, clutching for dear life as he slams inside roughly and deeply, but so slow it’s almost torture.

“So how am I handling you?” he asks, low into her ear, leaning in to press his chest heavily against her back, rolling his hips and grinding where he’s seated deep. He pulls out almost all of the way and then slams back in so quickly her whole body stutters forward, and her head’s empty, no thoughts but my boss is fucking me and my boss is fucking me good.

She just pants in reply, and he repeats that motion over and over, fast, nearly withdrawing just to fill her until his balls slap against her; she feels filthy, and amazing, and a little pissed it took them this long to do this, and she comes screaming his name, yanking so hard at the bedding that she pulls the fitted sheet right off the mattress.

He keeps pumping inside her, and she clenches around him, moans. He grunts, leans in to nibble her ear. “That’s my girl. Can you handle me?”

“My god, yeah.” She wants to, at least; she’s never been fucked this good in her life, so she’s honestly not sure how much she can handle. It’s always the quiet ones, she really should have known.

“Trust me on this,” he whispers, and she does because she does; he puts his hands on her arms, pries them off of the bed and moves her forward, guides her hands to the floor to support her so she’s half off the bed, her ass up. She’s strong, and he knows she’s strong, but she’s not sure she’s strong enough for this because he just fucking destroyed her and her legs are still shaking. “Trust me,” he coos again, and he shifts up, gets one foot on the ground, holds tightly to her hips, and pounds into her fast and hard, short thrusts that have her moaning and groaning and coming a second time before he even comes once.

He does come, though, just after, and she’s glad she’s got an IUD because if not she’d be leaving here fucking pregnant, no doubt about that.

“Hotch,” she gasps, daring to reach an arm back to touch him, and he pulls her up, lays her back, and kisses her, smoothing his hands all over her body. “Jesus. That was incredible.” She cards her fingers through his hair—he’s breathing heavy too, looks as dopey and pleased as she feels, which makes her smile. “I’ve kind of had a crush on you for the last few months. Thought you didn’t notice me much,” she says softly, and he laughs, incredulous.

“Didn’t notice you? All I do is look at you,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers over her cheek. She grins.

“Yeah, no, I got that. I figured that out; sorry it took me so long.” He leans in for a kiss, softer and slower, and she gets a little horny again, isn’t sure how that’s possible. “Why’d you stay away so much, if you liked me?” She’d done what she could to get his attention, smiling at him, brushing up against him when she could make it look innocent enough, but he’s always been the picture of propriety, maybe even a little distant.

“Morgan,” he says, making a face like he realizes how silly that was. “He’s been trying to ask you out and I figured you’d say yes eventually; he’s confident in ways I’m not. He’s a lot of things I’m not.”

“Yeah, that’s true, and I like you both for the ways you’re different, but his pursuing me has always been a game. A joke. He’s like a brother to me and he knows it. All in fun,” she says, and then he looks like he feels really silly. She leans up for a kiss. “All's well that ends well though, right?”

“Has this ended well?” he asks, a question in his eyes, and she runs her hands over his arms, his sides.

“If it’s up to me, I’d say this doesn’t have to end at all.” He puts a hand in her hair, kisses her deeply, passionately, and brings a few fingers to rub against her clit. She inhales sharply, licks her lips, and sinks back against the bed. “Oh my god, Hotch.”

“That’s right, baby. I’m your man,” he breathes into her ear, and she groans. Yes, he fucking is. The next morning, she goes to the lobby to pour their coffee, grab a paper to share. She passes Morgan—not a morning person—who grumbles a greeting and then does a double take.

“Whatcha got on your neck there, sweetheart?” he asks, and she grins privately, then schools her expression and turns to face him.

“What? Oh, that,” she says, poking at the purple hickey from the night before. “I’ll cover it with makeup later; needed my coffee first.” He blinks a couple times like he's missing something, frowns.

“Did you go out last night after we got here?”

“Nope, jumped in the shower and went straight to bed,” she replies, which is actually the truth. It just wasn’t her bed. She didn’t say anything about sleeping.

“Then who…?” It’s then that Hotch brushes by them, reaches out a hand for his cup.

“One sugar, one cream,” she says as she passes it over, and they both smile. Morgan knocks his cup over and spills coffee all over the floor.

Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x reader #hotch x female reader #ask #request #crush #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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everythingharrypotterblog · 3 years

Text

charmed [7]: ‘night changes’ (remus lupin x reader)

a/n: i got rejected from my top choice university program today so if im gonna be unhappy, might as well make u guys happy and release parts 5 and 7

brief summary: y/n and remus are both teachers at hogwarts and this is his first transformation where he is under wolfsbane. y/n remains in human form as he transforms. werewolf or not, all y/n ever feels is him.

series summary: set in the prisoner of azkaban, including its major plot points. remus and y/n get hired by dumbledore last minute to teach at hogwarts, defense against the dark arts and charms respectively. not wanting the students to know they are married, they navigate the challenging year through hidden glances, hand holds underneath the table and loving moments in their offices. even with all their efforts to conceal their relationship, their chemistry does not go unnoticed by the student population of hogwarts, who grow fond of the pair as they offer them some of the best classes they’ve had in a while. their relationship as newlyweds is strengthened as teaching the next generation of wizards unlocks a sea of memories of their love story. for the second time in his life, remus holds hogwarts responsible for some of his happiest memories. he’s given the chance to create them with the love of his life, y/n, who has taught and continues to teach him that every part of him is lovable, remaining forever under her charm.

series masterlist here

join taglist here

previously, in part 1:

“No, you don’t understand, it’s incredibly, extremely dangerous for a human to be around a were-“ Remus had tried to say, before Y/N had stood up and with a crack, disappeared. A single white dove hovered where she had stood, its wings flapping slowly to stay afloat.

“Y/N?”

With a crack, Y/N had appeared again.

“I didn’t know you were an Animagus.”

Y/N grinned.

“What, you thought James, Sirius and Peter were the only ones to ever succeed at it?”

Remus still grimaced, shaking his head and looking down.

“It’s still too dangerous, I won’t risk it. I couldn’t possibly think of hurting you, I’m too dangerous-“

“Remus, stop it. You didn’t hurt Peter as a rat back in the day, you wouldn’t hurt a flinging bird either. Plus, I got a serious height advantage on you anyway.” Y/N raised her eyebrows at him teasingly, transforming back again into the dove and flying up to the ceiling. Lupin wasn’t convinced.

“Y/N, you shouldn’t-“

The dove reappeared as Y/N and kneeled between Lupin’s legs, taking his face into her hands carefully.

“Please? Let me be there for you. Let me try-“

“I-“ Remus winced in his crippling self-doubt.

“I promise, if I ever feel unsafe, I’ll fly away. I promise.”

Remus nodded. “I love you.”

Y/N was taken aback, but surged forward to press her lips against his.

“I love you too.”

It was the first time they had said that to each other.

The first full moon of the Hogwarts term was now but a day away. As it drew nearer, Remus got paler and grew more irritable, as it always was.

The students never noticed, as he remained their kind Professor Lupin to them. Remus valued the staff and Dumbledore in extremely high regard, so he mainly kept to himself to avoid conflict.

However, his short temper was not 100% appeasable.

He was presently in his office, leg anxiously bouncing. He couldn’t help but jitter as restless energy coursed through him. The door opened, and he jerked his head in its direction, to see Y/N walk in, slightly anxious as well.

“Hi, love.” She said, making her way to him.

“He’s late.” Remus muttered.

“It’s Albus Dumbledore, what do you expect- maybe he had a Wizarding War in Luxembourg to stop before this or something.” Y/N joked, dragging a chair beside her and taking Remus’ hand.

His leg stopped bouncing.

1980.

Remus sat in an armchair in the House of Black’s library, attempting to distract himself before the night would come, a transformation night.

Loud voices reverberated across the walls, and he usually wouldn’t have minded, but the full moon made him more irritable.

“Will you guys stop yelling!” He called out across the hallway to the room where James, Sirius and a couple other Order members were talking over each other.

Sirius shared a look with James and they shrugged, making a motion with their hand asking the others to lower their voices.

“Hi, guys!” In came Y/N’s voice, as she walked through the door after a day of work, setting down her jacket. She joined the table for a few snacks, before inquiring, “Where’s Remus?”

“Ah, in the library.” James said mindlessly, shuffling the pack of cards they were playing with. He spotted Y/N head for that direction, and attempted to add, “But I wouldn’t disturb him if I were-“

But Y/N already walked in the library, wanting to see her boyfriend. She found him buried in a book, sitting slightly uncomfortably in his clothes, as if his body was having pre-transformation aches.

“Hi, love.” She said gently.

Remus peered up from his book and instantly smiled, uncrossing his legs and patting at his lap. Y/N took a seat on him, and he wrapped his arms around her comfortably.

“How was work?” He grumbled, mouth kissing up her arm and shoulder.

“Oh, just the usual.”

He listened to her talk about her day, hugging her as she sat in his lap.

James heard faint sounds of their light voices from the other room, and laughed. Sirius shook his head, both of them amused by their friend’s drastic change in demeanor.

“Little fucker.”

Dumbledore appeared in Remus’ office not long after Y/N joined, with a goblet of familiar-looking blue smoke.

“Remus, Y/N. I took the liberty of bringing you your last dose myself, Severus has already done so much. So, you wanted to talk about the logistics of your upcoming transformation.”

Remus nodded, leaning forward and taking the potion.

“This is your first time with Wolfsbane, so we cannot be sure on how it will affect you. However, I trust that it has been brewed properly, so it should do its function, which is to maintain your mental state when you transform.”

“So technically, he could just stay and hide here in his office and wait for the night to be over?” Y/N asked Dumbledore, thumb rubbing over Remus’ hand.

“Yes. If the potion has been brewed correctly, which I am sure it has, Remus should transform into nothing but a harmless wolf. Of course, because this is your first time, if you still wish to go outside and-“

“Yes.” Remus interjected, once he finished the last of the potion. “I wish to still use the Whomping Willow, just to avoid all potential risk.”

“Very well.” Dumbledore smiled, bowing his head. “I have complete trust in you, so you do as you please.”

“And I should… I won’t forget who I am, I won’t lose my mind?” Remus asked.

“No.” Dumbledore confirmed. “Your mental state will stay intact.”

“Then, I can technically be in human form with him.” Y/N gasped as the idea jumped into her head. She was immediately met with startled looks from both Dumbledore and Remus, Dumbledore merely intrigued and Remus looking downright terrified. “I mean, I could be with him. Me, a human.” She added hastily.

Glancing at Remus’ fervently opposed look, Dumbledore merely stood up.

“I will leave that between you two to discuss. Goodnight, and good luck.” He said. “Oh! And one more thing.”

His eyes twinkled. “I hear talk amongst the students since the start of term. About you two.”

Remus and Y/N looked at each other nervously.

“Something about spotting their Charms and Defence teachers always being present in each other’s offices…”

Y/N mouth dropped in shock, trying to figure out how students could even know where they spent their nights, before Dumbledore laughed heartily, shaking his head.

“I kid, I kid, I have heard nothing of the sort. All that has reached my ears are the raving comments about your classes and subjects. Keep up the good work, Professors.” Dumbledore chuckled, and vanished into the fireplace.

Y/N stared dumbfounded at the spot he disappeared, before letting out a laugh.

“I-“ She blinked. “He is so weird, and can you believe, I almost let slip that I’m an Animagus-“

She stopped once she looked at her husband, whose expression was grave.

“Wha-“

“You cannot stay in human form with me.” He shook his head.

Y/N stayed silent for a second. “Why not? If this potion works, and we know it will, your-“

“We can’t be too sure!” Remus sighed. “Werewolves, we hunt for humans. We look for victims to bite, to… to-“

“If the potion doesn’t work, then I’ll just transform into a dove, like always.”

Remus met her eyes in a worried gaze.

“I’ve been a bird countless of times on your transformations, you’re still gonna let me do that, are you?” Y/N raised her eyebrows. “You even said, werewolves look for humans, animal companions are harmless-“

“Which is exactly why you can’t be in human form, darling! The extreme danger that would put you in, you have no idea.”

“I have no idea?” Y/N pursed her lips, instinctively reaching out to her bicep, on which lay a tiny white scar.

Remus glanced at it too, with almost hatred and remorse in his eyes, as he sighed, hand tracing over it and kissing it.

“Maybe you should transform right now, my love.” Remus said anxiously as he, Y/N, James, Sirius and Peter walked through an abandoned part of the woods.

The sky was dark, and the clouds radiated a faint shimmer indicating the full moon would appear soon.

“I won’t transform until I absolutely need to.” Y/N said firmly, hand holding onto Remus’ tightly.

“She’ll follow our lead, Moony, don’t worry.” Sirius said.

Unintentionally, they stopped at a small hill, deeming the timing to be right.

“Y/N, it’s not too late, you could just Disapparate away, I-“ Remus said to Y/N.

“Remus. Stop. I’m not scared.” Y/N smiled at him, cupping his cheek. “You’re still you. And I love you, all parts of you. Nothing will change that, or you and me.”

Remus nodded, breathing quickly and pulled her in for a kiss, before the other Marauders beckoned Y/N to back away slightly as the moon started to peak.

The night changed in an instant.

The opal orb shone in the sky and in the moonlight, Y/N watched as Remus’ tall silhouette trembled, his body morphing into a werewolf.

Y/N was in awe. His body lengthened. His shoulders were hunching. Hair sprouted visibly from his head and neck and his hands curled into clawed paws. Straightening up, he howled to the sky, the sound echoing into the rest of the night.

Y/N’s mind went blank. The Marauders had transformed as she kept her eye on Remus. For a second, the werewolf’s eyes met hers, but before she could do anything, he lunged for her.

Adrenaline shot through her body as the werewolf made a swipe towards her, a big black dog jumping in between them just in time for Remus’ sharp claw to slightly graze her shoulder before she transformed with a crack, into a dove and flew up, batting her wings.

“I’ll never be able to forgive myself for that.” Remus whispered painfully, finger tracing over the small permanent scratch near Y/N’s shoulder.

“But I’m fine.” Y/N pursed her lips, eyes looking into Remus’ face imploringly. “Because I knew that it wasn’t you. And after the night ended, you cared for me so tenderly and lovingly. Gently. Because that is the real you.”

Remus soaked a warm towel for the millionth time as he sat Y/N on the toilet next to the sink to tend the small scratch she had acquired from him.

“Rem, it’s okay, do you realize that I’ve broken literal bones before! This is nothing.” Y/N said, letting him clean the patch of skin before taking both of his hands in hers. He kneeled in between her legs.

“I could never forgive myself for this, I’m so sorry-“

“Please. In the best way possible, shut up.” Y/N smiled, eyes welling up at the unnecessary look of remorse plaguing Remus’ face. “That wasn’t you. And nothing that I saw or felt last night changes who you are to me now.”

“You don’t…see me as a monster? You don’t even feel a tiny bit scared being with me right now?” Remus teared up.

Y/N smiled, eyes crinkling and letting tears fall down her cheeks. “I just feel you.”

Y/N woke up from her nap the night of the full moon to find Remus’ side of the bed empty. Eventually, she had gotten Remus to agree to let her accompany him as she always did, but in human form this time.

Getting up, she spotted Remus already at the door. She crossed her arms.

“Are you running away?” Y/N frowned, her husband jumping at getting caught.

“No, I-I figured I’d head out earlier.”

Y/N walked towards him, squeezing his shoulders.

“We talked about this. It’ll be okay.” Y/N reassured him. She saw the fear still in his eyes but he nodded, blinking some away and reaching to get Y/N’s coat for her.

They walked in the chilly night air, making their way to the Forest. Although this felt completely new, they had never done this at Hogwarts and they were expecting new results tonight, there was also a sense of déjà-vu present in the air.

Y/N had been helping Remus with every one of his transformations during their entire marriage and before, ever since she was 18. It’s been almost 13 years that they were in this together.

We're only gettin' older, baby

And I've been thinkin' about it lately

“Thank you for being here.” Remus said, squeezing her hand. “And I don’t just mean tonight.”

Y/N squeezed it back tightly, beaming at him. The moon was close to being fully out, and they stopped on a small hill overlooking Hagrid’s Hut where it would appear in full view.

Does it ever drive you crazy

Just how fast the night changes?

“Remember, if I make any sudden moves, you transform on the spot, okay?” Remus looked down at her, eyes full of conviction. Y/N nodded.

They both stood there, waiting, anticipation through the roof. They felt nauseous, from nervousness. The clouds began to fade, and more moonlight shined onto them. Slowly, they let go of each other’s hands and took a couple steps back from each other.

Everything that you've ever dreamed of

Disappearing when you wake up

The first beam of light hit Remus as the full moon emerged.

But there's nothing to be afraid of

Even when the night changes

His neck began elongating, thick hair growing from his head and covering his back. His shoulders hunched as he grew taller, breaking through the material of his clothes.

It will never change, baby

Y/N watched from a short distance as Remus morphed into a towering creature. Her incantation was ready in her head, just in case she had to transform into the dove.

It will never change, baby

Slowly, the full-fledge werewolf straightened up from its hunched over position. His eyes met Y/N’s and her body tensed, remembering. Instead of lunging at her, he sat down, his human-like eyes expressing gentleness. Y/N took a tiny step towards him.

“Remus?” She said, voice trembling.

The werewolf nodded.

Taking steps closer, she shakily got down onto her knees to join him on the ground. She lifted a hand, tentatively, and inch by inch, approached it to cup his cheek. At the contact, they both breathed out in relief.

“I just feel you.” Y/N smiled, tears flowing from her eyes.

It will never change me and you.

to be continued

a/n: as always i’d love to hear what u thought or what ud like to see of the series:)

tags @bicyhot1 @pink-hufflepuff @legitlaughingflamingo @brod16 @gerardonmyway @blueleonor @suranne-doesstuff @rxmusblxck @spxllcxstxr @littleemo477 @just12randomfandoms @svnkissdd @norrreee @m4r13l3y @jess6578 @rorysreallyrandom @the-nightingale-not-the-lark @archeve19 @wolfstarslovechild @pan-pride-12 @x4kai4x @chrrybmb-mp3 @reggieluna @happyslittlekitten @missemilygilmore @all-things-fictional @strangefirething @abitofeverythinggg @yeahshewayout @imfreeeeeee123 @harold-pothead @lunnybunny12 @ellieblack11 @tugabooos @joyfulbiscuit @justonemorechapter07 @wonderwoman292 @skateb0red @secretsthathauntus @siriusblackswhoree @sabonbonn @untraveled-road @annabeljareau @valiantobservationkitty @diffbeanofbrand @theeicedamericano @spencerreidlove @flannellover67 @wishiwasdeadric @becks7401 @katsav17 @emmy-kitty13 @purritoqueen @girl22334 @monicafebyana @talsiaa @sierrax023 @axva03 @uhh-dk @nataliahgrace

#remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #Professor Remus Lupin #professor lupin x reader #professor! reader #charmed

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literaturehoeenergy · 4 years

Text

Opportunity Pt 5

pairing: Corpse Husband x fem!reader

genre: lowkey angst, but it ends fluffy I promise

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, self-deprecation, please read with caution :(

word count: 1394

a/n: hey babes :) it’s finally here! part five <3 let me know if you want to be tagged in this series.

oh and Y/F/M = your favorite movie

Y/F/R = your favorite restaurant

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Y/N’s POV

Corpse and I had been seeing each other romantically for a few weeks. He was always so sweet, and every time we were together it felt like nothing else existed. Of course, everything else was still there when we parted ways, and that was the reason I found Corpse’s apartment in the state that I did.

I had knocked a couple times with no answer, sighing as I pushed my hair out of my face. I texted him, I called… No answer. I tried the doorknob, and the front door was unlocked. I hesitated, opening the door slowly, and looking around the room to see if he was there. When I didn’t see him, I started to get worried. What if he was sick, what if he was hurt? I set my stuff down on the couch before moving to investigate the rest of the apartment. The door to his office creaked quietly as I nudged it open. His screen was lit, and he had YouTube and Twitter open on both screens. It looked like his headphones were thrown off and his chair was pushed across the room.

I moved on to his bedroom, hoping to have better luck there. The door was closed completely, and I hissed as my bare feet stepped onto broken glass on the floor. Now he’s breaking things? I moved to step back and let out a yelp as a piece dug further into the underside of my foot. “Fuck!” The door to the bedroom opened quickly, a concerned but admittedly awful looking Corpse staring at me as I leaned on the wall across from the doorway.

“What happened?” He asked quietly. I picked the piece off the bottom of my foot, wincing as the blood started flowing faster out of the cut. “Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit,” he whispered, rushing to the bathroom to grab his first aid kit. I sighed, placing my thumb over the cut to try and stop the bleeding. I appreciated that he was worried about me but I didn’t want him to stress himself out over this. He came back quickly, telling me to sit on the floor so he could look at my foot for me.

“Corpse,” I said quietly, reaching to brush my fingers against his shoulder. He didn’t answer, continuing to clean my cut and make sure there was no glass still in it. “Baby…”

“I don’t think you need stitches.” He put some butterfly bandaids and a wrap around my foot, his hands coming to rest on my ankles once he was done. “I’m sorry…” he whispered.

“Why are you sorry?” He sighed, moving to lay his head on my stomach as I leaned against the wall. I carded my fingers through his hair, rubbing his temples gently as he breathed deeply.

“I don’t mean to be such a mess.”

“You’re not a mess, sweetie.” He sat up, looking at me with a frown etched into his features.

“Yes I am. If I wasn’t a mess, I wouldn’t have let the stress of my job get to me, and I wouldn’t have broken that vase, and you wouldn’t have cut your foot open. If I wasn’t a mess, this day would have been just like normal, and we would be on the couch watching some dumb movie and talking about our days. I don’t want to mess this up, us up, by being a mess. It isn’t fair for you.” He had tears welling up in his eyes by that point, and I could hear the strain in his voice. I sighed, gently pulling him to lean on the wall next to me and pulling his chin so he would face me.

“Corpse, baby… I want you to listen to me, okay?” He nodded, sniffling as a tear rolled down his cheek. “You are a mess, I will agree with you there. But I don’t care because you are my mess. I would rather come in here to this than have you bottle your feelings up and hide things from me. I was worried that you were sick, or that you hurt yourself, but I’m glad that you’re okay. And whenever you want to, you can talk to me about what’s been bothering you.” I brushed the tears from his cheeks smiling softly. “You’re not by yourself anymore, I hate to break it to you.” He laughed breathily, hugging me to his chest.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my head. “Let me clean this up so we don’t have another incident.” He stood, heading to the kitchen to grab the broom. I watched as he disappeared and reappeared around the corner again with his broom in hand. Once the mess was cleaned, he reached his hands down to help me stand from the floor. “I don’t know if you should be walking.”

“I’m okay.” He stared down at me for a second before hooking his hands behind my knees. “Oh my god, what are you doing?” I shrieked, wrapping my legs and arms around him.

“Carrying you to the couch, duh.” I sighed, accepting my fate and setting my head on his shoulder as we made our way to the living room. He set me down on the couch gently, smiling as I pouted up at him. “Why are you pouting, baby?” I shrugged, grabbing for his hands. “I’m gonna come sit with you, just give me a minute. Think you can handle that?” He chuckled.

“I guess so,” I sighed jokingly.

Corpse’s POV

I made my way back to my bedroom to grab my phone, leaving a very pouty Y/N on the couch. I texted Sean asking what I should do for her when she doesn’t feel good, and he told me to order from her favorite restaurant and watch Y/F/M with her. I placed a delivery order from Y/F/R and grabbed a hoodie for her before heading back to the living room.

“Here you go, baby.” She slid the hoodie over her head, her hands covered by the sleeves as she reached for me again. I gave in, sitting next to her so she could cuddle into my side. How could I not give in to her when she looks like that and says things like “You’re not by yourself anymore, I hate to break it to you” when I have an absolute meltdown. I turned on the movie Sean had told me to, earning a squeal from her.

“How did you know this is my favorite movie?” I shrugged.

“I guessed.” She raised an eyebrow at me, calling my bullshit. “I asked Sean what to do when you don’t feel good,” I confessed, my cheeks heating up.

“That’s really sweet, I appreciate it.” There was a knock at the door and I grinned, grabbing the food from the hallway. I brought the bag to the living room, setting it on the coffee table and she gasped. “And my favorite food?”

“Of course. Anything for you, baby.” I said, pressing a kiss to her lips. Her eyes started welling up and I got worried that I had done something wrong. “Oh no, what’s wrong?” She laughed, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of my hoodie.

“Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all.” I sat down next to her, grabbing her hands in mine.

“Why are you crying?”

“I just… I’ve never had someone care about me like this. Except Sean, but he’s on the other side of the Earth. I’m always the one doing the caring, so I… I just really, really… appreciate you, that’s all.” I smiled gently, pulling her chin up so I could look in her eyes.

“All you’ve done for the past, what? Three months?” She nodded. “All you have done is care about me. You feed me, you make sure I take my meds, you make sure that I’m drinking water and trying to take a break every once in a while. You make me happy, so I want to make sure that you’re happy. It’s the least I can do.” She dug her face into my neck and I felt the tears against my skin. “You deserve the world, Y/N,” I whispered.

“So do you, dummy.”

“Dummy?” I laughed, pulling away to look at her.

“Yes, dummy. But my dummy.”

*******************************************************

What’s up babies? I missed you guys! I was re-reading this and it made me laugh because I really just wrote my love languages out. Acts of Service and Physical Touch? Sign me up.

Anyways, I have a few more essays and finals coming up soon, so I’m not 100% sure when the next part will be, but I will try to do some little blurbs and things with Corpse in the meantime, so if you have any ideas, or you want to be added to a taglist where I tag you everything Corpse, let me know :)

taglist:

@gday5sos @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @itsminniekat @alienvarmint @yongboxerrr @anabundance0ffand0ms @unapprovedtrash @barnesdameron @arossebyanyothername @alilshit @booklover240 @corvuswolf @bi-andready-tocry @oliverasindahouse @mitchiesdungeon @tsunami-m00n @emsies-dream @bibliofilia @janndishsstuff @bbecc-a @uhuhuh @thedragonsbirthgiver @melmachh @softhetixx @danny-devitowo @cpt-cevans @crapimahuman @annshit @simply-simping @hughugh20 @lauramacch @crystalbaby12 @xuan-my

I couldn’t tag these people and I’m not sure why :/

@atelophobicadolescent @medameusanduiche @holosexualunicorn7000 @siriuslystupid @shamelesworehourstm @bluekittenstuff

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse imagines #corpse_husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fanfic #corpse fanfic #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #E-GIRLS are ruining my life #cat girls are ruining my life #stream corpse husband on itunes and spotify #and agoraphobic on youtube #miss you!#white tee #Cabin Fever #never satisfied #opportunity

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writing-in-april · 4 years

Text

The Big Bluff

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer goes up against a professional poker player.

A/N: This is almost a purely self indulgent fic, once I had this idea I really really wanted to write it for myself. I wrote all of this today while sick so I’m proud of myself lmao. Also ‘the woman’ Is definitely inspired by Irene Adler. Thanks for letting me have the third person today @zhuzhubii (inside joke thanks to)and thanks to @imagining-in-the-margins who helped me figure out where the story was gonna go. Last day of my 500 follower celebration!! I did 7 fics in 7 days!! Thanks y’all so much for supporting me!!

Warnings: Smut, Fighting for dominance, Hand job, Spitting, Fingering, Choking - uhh should be it.

Masterlist Word count: 2.3k

The casino lights were bright as she walked in through the main entrance of the casino that was dripping in finery. She was a vision in red, dressed to the nines in a red dress that left little to the imagination. She was here to blow off some steam, though not in the way people would assume. The woman in red was a professional poker player, normally playing high stakes games that were also televised for people’s enjoyment. Usually people would try to escape what they did at work on the weekends, but not her as she rather enjoyed the adrenaline that pumped through her veins just as she was about to win.

A man sat across from her at the table she chose with fluffy brown hair that curled slightly and wearing clothes that didn’t fit with the overall aesthetic of everyone else there. She would have assumed normally that he was an amateur player, only here to blow off steam (Plus his money) for the weekend by playing poker and laying in bed with someone. There was something about his demeanor however the way he acted just subtly arrogant as he waited for the dealer to start, that told her that he was the one to watch during the game.

Sure enough after the first round he had won, the woman lost nothing in the hand as she had folded right when she realized she’d gotten a bad hand. Worry still had creeped up on her as she gazed at the man who looked more like a teacher’s assistant rather than a poker player, she couldn’t be seen to lose even if this wasn’t a high stakes game, she had a reputation to uphold. She could’ve left the table, gone to find some easier people to swindle, but the challenge to bring the mystery man down was too hard to ignore.

During the next round her eyes almost never left the stranger only looking down every so often at the cards she had been dealt. It got to the point in the game where everyone had folded besides her and the man, she had been raising the stakes too high for everyone else to be comfortable with participating even if they thought they had a good hand. The whole table sucked in a breath as she went all in with her bet, no one at the table seemed to be able to get a read on her, including the man who thought he was unbeatable.

“I fold.” A triumphant smirk came across her face while taking a celebratory gulp of the wine she had ordered as the man had finally admitted defeat, this was exactly the kind of adrenaline rush she had been searching for. The look on his face was pure rage, she got the sense that he hardly got angry probably because he hardly lost.

She raked in all the chips she had earned, but then decided to not show her winning hand. It was far more satisfying to her to see the frustration on everyone’s faces, to see them try to figure out her game. Was she bluffing or not?

Once she had cashed them in she left to go to her hotel in a cab that she had called until she saw the man waiting by the entrance waiting and stopped. He looked like he was waiting for someone rather impatiently by the way he was tapping his foot.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yeah you.” He remarked rather simply, his foot still tapped impatiently clearly fed up with her even though the amount of words they had spoken to each other could be counted on two hands.

“Why are you looking for me?” She played the part of a coy woman perfectly, she knew exactly why he was looking for her. His cocky demeanor at the table had quickly given away to her that he rarely lost any hand that he was dealt, whether it was a bad one or not.

“How did you win? Were you bluffing? You must have been bluffing...Or you just got lucky...” His ranting would’ve been cute in any other circumstance, the fact that he had assumed what had gone down, that she was in fact only lucky or bluffing made her blood boil.

“How did you get away with card counting?” She countered back a little irritated that he had assumed that the only way she could win was if she was bluffing or getting lucky. He seemed caught off guard by her question, unable to comprehend how someone had caught him after mastering the subtle art of card counting over the years. Though she was irritated at him, she still wanted to know more about the man who looked more like a teacher's assistant than a poker player, even if she had beaten him it was still obvious that he was good at the game. “What’s your name?”

“Spencer.” His impatience was even worse now looking almost frantic at her slow pace in the conversation, he was more focused on her skills rather than her name.

“Well- Spencer it was nice to meet you, but I have to get going, better luck next time.” She wasn’t dumb, she knew he was going to follow her out to her cab, her real aim was to hopefully get him to come back to the hotel with her. She may have been looking for a poker game to release some tension, that had somewhat worked, however this game seemed far more fun.

“Please- I need to know.” His shouted out words had attracted the attention of a few casino goers who were not happy with the fact that a man was yelling right outside the doors of the casino. The little wave he gave as an apology before sprinting a little to get closer to her was cute, deepening her desire to take the man for a ride, maybe he wasn’t as much of a hot arrogant asshole that she thought.

“Why don’t you come with me if you want to find out.” She flashed him a coy smirk before ducking into the cab. The man she now knew as Spencer may be arrogant when it comes to his poker skills, but underneath it all she could tell there was a man that was intriguing. She wanted to get to know him beyond his card counting skills and possibly jump his bones. The fact that he was gorgeous did nothing but stoke the fire that he ignited during their heated conversation.

Spencer did take up her offer and got into the back seat with her. Though, whether he had caught onto the other game that they had started to play was still a mystery to her.

They had made it up to her room in the swanky hotel on the strip, being a professional did bring her in big money. The look in his eyes as he stood waiting near the door told her that he had definitely caught onto the game she had carefully set up for them. There was still a way to back out, to exit through the door where he came from, there was no chance in hell he was backing away from the woman he found infuriating but extremely gorgeous.

“You still haven’t given me your name.” The one thing that was holding him back, the fact that he still didn’t know her name. The name fell from her lips dripping with seduction, she was irresistible to him almost nothing could make him leave the room.

He surged forward to capture her lips with his own, he expected to gain dominance over the kiss swiftly though it was more difficult than he first expected. He was met with a pair of lips that wouldn’t let him gain access that he wanted, he tried to slip his tongue into her mouth but was quickly barred from entering.

She would not be giving up dominance easily.

“Condom?” He said breathlessly into my lips while she worked on the buttons of his shirt after I had hastily pushed his cardigan off and tossed it somewhere in the room.

“In my purse.” She released him to rummage through the purse that had dropped onto the floor in their haste. Once she had found what she was looking for she stood up to find Spencer sitting at the edge of the bed, belt now discarded with his slacks undone.

She moved to stand just slightly in front of him then pulled the straps of her red dress down until it pooled onto the floor. Their eyes were both blown with lust only focused on each other. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath besides a lace red thong to match the dress. Spencer was practically salivating at the sight of her only in heels and a thong, he was so distracted by it that he was caught off guard when she moved to straddle him while also pushing him to lay flat on his back.

Pulling his boxers down just enough she pulled his cock out, he was half hard at this point, she was already impressed with his size though she masked it with her practiced poker face.

“Now you’re going to sit back and look pretty while I have my way with you.” The anger on his face was prevalent in response to her words, the fight was taken away from him when she spit into her hand and started to jerk his length. Her hand moved up and down in a teasing manner not getting him even close to the edge, his moans caught up in his throat though one did escape in frustration after she had almost completely pulled away from him. Finally he had enough of her teasing, batting away her hand and flipping her over.

“Now it’s your turn to look pretty.” He pinned both of her hands above her head holding them together with one hand while the other dipped down to the apex of her thighs. At first he didn’t let her have anything she wanted, only running his fingers on her inner thighs and dancing his fingers right above her hole that was now absolutely dripping.

“Beg.” His voice was now harsh and biting, that did little to intimidate her and all it did was make her even wetter. She fought his grip with vigor not wanting to give into his demand.

“No, I won’t beg.” She said through gritted teeth, it had become much harder to finish her sentence when Spencer had unexpectedly curled his fingers inside of her, finding that perfect spot inside her faster than she had expected.

“You don’t want to beg fine, but don’t expect to cum.” The growl in frustration that came from her made Spencer pause just a little, long enough that she could retake control and flip him back over. A squeak fell from him clearly not expecting her to be able to take back control again and another noise came out from him, this time a broken moan, after she quickly put the condom down and she sunk down onto his length.

“I don’t beg for anyone.” She started at a rough pace, her anger came out in her movements as she undulated her hips with fury that Spencer had never experienced before in the bedroom. The moans falling from each of their lips would surely get her a complaint from her neighbors, neither of them could really care less as they both chased their release.

Spencer may have been on the bottom at this point, but he still had not submitted completely to her. His hands sat firmly on her hips, tight enough to create finger shaped bruises that she hoped would remain for the days after this tryst while he also thrusted with the same vigor as her bounces.

She wrapped her hands around his jaw pulling him up slightly to envelope him into a kiss full of teeth and tongue. As her hand slowly pulled away from him it made contact with the hollow of his throat, his breath hitched at the light contact and he gripped her hips a little harder. She hesitantly moved her hand to connect with his throat to lightly choke him, she may have wanted to dominate him, but she didn’t want to scare him off. He gave an approving grunt at her actions, starting to meet her thrusts even harder than he had before and moved his thumb to rub circles into her clit.

“Cum.” She ordered as soon as she sensed their coming releases. He wanted to fight her on the order, not wanting to give up what little dominance he still held, but his release was so close that he didn’t want to give it up. Their releases washed over them, Spencer first and then her not long after being shoved over the ledge after seeing how pretty he looked while cumming. She fell on top of him, limbs quite tired from her vigorous work.

As soon as she had caught her breath she enveloped Spencer in a long languid kiss that was much slower than any of their previous ones then getting up to meander with shaky legs her way to the bathroom in her hotel room to clean up. She slipped into a pair of her sexier pajamas, just in case Spencer was going to stay the night like she wanted.

“So will you tell me now if you were bluffing?” He quickly pounced the question onto me as soon as I emerged from the bathroom, he did seem a little less frustrated about the fact that he had lost, more like he genuinely wanted to know my process.

“Guess you’ll never know. It could take a long time to figure out our tells.” She feigned exhaustion with a sigh though the smirk on her face told Spencer what she really wanted. He was an expert on behavior after all.

“I've got time.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg #matthew gray gubler character #smut

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aubreyprc · 3 years

Text

hardwired to be with you

inspired by one of my hotchniss head canons (which i might share, one day) which took a very unexpected turn which lead me and @eprcntiss crying at four am :) evelyn prentiss hotchner we love you we would die for you and we would kill for you in fact you can never do anything wrong in our eyes<3

ao3

They probably would have slept through the whole day if it wasn’t for the sudden loud crash of something, coming from the kitchen, echoing around the house causing them both to jump from their slumber. Even after being retired for three years, the constant state of vigilance, even in sleep, is one that never really fades.

“What the hell-“ Hotch mutters, already getting out of bed, tempted to grab the glock he hasn’t even looked at in three years, from the safe under the wardrobe.

“Babe,” Emily says, her voice groggy and full of sleep. She reaches out for him, gently grasping her fingers in some of his as he looks at her, “It’s nothing.” She tells him and he frowns, looking back at their door. “It’s Jack.” She tells him and he squints his eyes at her, a playful look in them and she laughs, pulling him into the bed. “Eve wanted to make you breakfast.” She smiles, his laugh full of just complete joy as he lays back next to her, resting his arm across her body as she faces his.

“Evie,” He says with a smirk, it’s a name only he calls her, he can’t help but laugh as Emily rolls her eyes. “Is two, the only think she’s knows about breakfast is how to throw it across the kitchen.”

“Which is why Jack so kindly offered to help her.” She smiles, a growing grin on her face as she rolls into his arms, resting her chin on his chest.

“Happy birthday,” she whispers, running a finger across his cheek before kissing him softly, smiling as he runs a hand under her shirt. “What are you doing?” She asks as she pulls away, he grins at her innocently, tracing a finger across her bare back.

“Nothing...” He says, moving to catch her lips in his again, she feels him start to roll them over and places a hand into his chest, a happy smile on her face as she looks at him. It’s a smile he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over seeing.

“I’m afraid you’re out of look mister,” she says, holding back a laugh as he pouts, doing her best to ignore the way his fingers trace across her skin. “Eve’s up.”

“Evie, is making breakfast.” He grins and Emily just laughs, rolling out of his arms. Aaron huffs as she flops onto her back, smiling at him as she twists onto her side.

“Jack is making breakfast,” She chuckles, “And your daughter has a habit of running in here unannounced.” She raises an eyebrow at him, watching with a smile as he laughs, “I give it ten minutes until that door bursts open.”

“Ten minutes is all we need...” He teases, laying on his side to face her and pull her to him, capturing her lips in his own.

She laughs as she allows herself to be pressed into him, wrapping her leg over his body.

However the moment ends when the sound of small, but fast, feet speed across the landing. Laughing as she pulls away, she cups his face, pressing another chaste kiss onto his lips just as the door opens with force, the little girl running to her mother’s side and climbing over her. Emily grunts as she helps move her daughter into the middle of the bed, the child grins at her, a grin that matches her fathers, a grin that makes her heart melt. Running a soft hand over her daughters forehead and into her hair, pushing it from her face, Emily smiles down at her baby.

“Good morning.” Emily smiles, looking across at Aaron as he stares down at their daughter with such adoration that her chest swells.

The little girl turns to her father, cupping his face with her small hands (an action she absolutely learnt from watching her mother do it) and smiles.

“Happy birthday, Daddy!” She says happily, tapping his cheeks.

“Thank you, Evie” He says softly, pressing a kiss into the palm that’s on his cheek.

“Made you breakfast,” she smiles, “Jack said to come and get you.”

“I guess we better go then.” He says, her laugh melting his heart as she jumps up, standing in the middle of their bed.

“Now.” She says in a tone that is so Emily, Hotch can’t help but bark in laughter. Emily raises an eyebrow at their daughter and the girl pouts her lips looking at her mother, muttering a little sorry as she hops down, “Come on!” She groans as her parents get out of bed slowly, Emily grabbing her robe while Hotch walks slowly towards the child, scooping her in the air with ease as she screams in laughter, resting safety on his hips. She lands a flat palm at the back of his neck as she turns to face Emily.

“You spoil her,” She says to her husband with the roll of her eyes and he shrugs.

“Look at her,” he says, it’s his excuse every time. Emily hums in reply as she moves past them and out of the door, smiling to herself as the two whisper behind her.

“I can hear you.” She teases as they walk down the stairs and they silent, before their daughter lets out a giggle.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, she leaps from Hotch’s arms and runs to the kitchen, a shout for Jack as she does.

“I fear our Daughter may think she’s in charge.” Hotch jokes as he wraps two arms around Emily’s waist and pulls her into his chest, her head tilted too look at him.

“Who’s fault is that?” She asks with a raised eyebrow. He frowns playfully, more than painfully aware it’s his fault.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiles, bending down to kiss her once again.

“Gross,” Jack complains as he walks in the room and the pair laugh, turning to face him, “Come on,” He says, already turning to head back into the kitchen

“I made you this, Daddy.” Evie says, passing him a card full of glitter, stickers and drawings. There’s a huge smile on her face as she climbs onto his legs, resting her back against his chest as he holds the card, she pokes her tongue out at Jack as he playfully glares at her, he goes to speak before his eyes move to Emily, and he closes his mouth, her brows raised at him.

“Eve started it,” He mutters, just like a freshly thirteen year old would, while he picks at the last of his breakfast. “I-”

“Eve is two,” She says, trying to hold back a smile as the teenager just huffs, “You’re thirteen. Be the bigger person.”

“I love it, thank you.” Hotch says softly, pressing a kiss into her head as she smiles, giggling as he ruffles her hair.

“Emily,” Jack whispers while Hotch listens to Eve go through her card. “Can I the gift?” He smirks, Emily laughs, nodding her head.

“What gift?” He eyes the two suspiciously, watching as Jack heads into the living room he turns back to his wife. “What have you done?” He asks, looking at her smirk with a grin of his own.

“Here,” Jack smiles, passing his dad a wrapped box. “open it.”

“You two got this together?” He asks with a lace of playful worry, Jack nods, grinning at him and Hotch sighs. “God I hate to think what this going to be.”

Jack laughs as he takes a seat next to Emily, looking at her while he grins, far too happy with himself.

“It wasn’t my idea.” He says then as Hotch opens the gift and Emily laughs.

“You little-”She starts, but close her mouth, pointing at him with a finger lifted off her coffee cup.

They turn to face Hotch as he sighs with a laugh, shaking his head as he looks at the box.

“You think you’re funny?” He asks Emily, who nods her head with a smile.

“I know I am.” She teases, winking at him as he glares at her.

“What is it?” Evie asks from her dads lap, her hands reaching out for the box.

Hotch eyes Emily again before he shakes his head, looking back down at the gift.

An inflatable zimmer frame? Really?

“I hate you.” He smiles as he watches Emily rise from the table, her laughter tugs at his heart, one of his favourite sounds.

He looks towards his son, “And you? You were in on this?”

“It’s funny, no?” He teases, standing, “Happy birthday Dad.” He says, “The frame should come in handy with all the standing you’ll be doing today.”

His words cause Emily to scream with laughter from the other room, Evie breaking into a fit of giggles at the sound while Hotch just shakes his head, holding back a grin as his son chuckles to himself.

“Eve, sweetie come on,” Emily calls from door, the girl jumps from her dads lap and heads towards her mother, “Go and pick out something you want to wear I’ll be there in a second, okay?” She runs a hand through her daughters hair as the girl nods, before sprinting out of the room and up the stairs, already shouting her brothers name.

Emily heads over to Aaron, wrapping her arms Aaron his shoulder as he sits at the table, staring at the box, she rests her cheek against his temple, her arms around his shoulders.

“Happy fiftieth,” She smiles, “Do you like your gift?” She jokes, laughing as he rolls his eyes, resting his hand on her wrist.

“You’re not funny.”

“Yes I am.” Emily says, before kissing his cheek and standing up, “Come on, they’ll all be here soon.”

Running a hand through her hair as she exits her bedroom, Emily walks out into the hall, towards her daughters room, smiling as she watches Aaron braid their daughters hair.

“Look Mommy!” Eve shouts, “I’m wearing a dress!”

“I know,” She smiles, “You look very pretty.”

Eve smiles, kicking her legs as they swing off her bed. Hotch taps her back in a cue that her hair is finished and she jumps down, almost crashing into her Mother’s arms as she holds hers up. Emily bends down with a sigh, lifting her up and resting the girl on her hips.

“You, little miss, need to get your shoes on.” Emily tells her, “And you need to get dressed.” She says to Aaron, his two girls turning to face him as he stands.

“Mommy will you help me with my shoes?” Eve asks, resting her head on her shoulder. Emily smiles softly, running a gentle hand over her arm.

“Of course, which ones?” She asks and the girl points to a pair of shoes in the corner which Aaron turns to grab on his way out, handing them to his wife before he catches her lips in a kiss, the feel of her smile against his lips enough to make his heart flutter even all these years later.

“Gross,” Eve says, copying her older brother and the two adults laugh, separating and looking towards their baby. “Jack said you’re not allowed to kiss.” She reminds them.

“We’re sorry,” Emily smiles, holding back her laughter as Aaron looks to the floor as he bites his lip. “Let’s go and get your shoes on okay?”

“And you,” She says, turning around to Aaron as she walks off, “Get dressed. Unless of course you want all our friends to you see you in your very sexy pyjamas.” She teases, looking him up and down as he stands there in a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

“Oh my god,” Jack groans as he walks out of his room, “I swear you two get worse with age.”

Emily stares at him with an agape mouth, a sharp laugh of her tongue while Aaron chuckles, walking into the master bedroom.

“You mister, are on thin ice with me this morning.” She jokes, pushing him lightly as he moves past her, the teenage boy laughs to himself as he walks down the stairs.

“Are Derek and Spencer coming today?” Jack asks as the three of them head into the living room. “We haven’t seen them since we moved here.”

“They are.” Emily smiles, dropping Eve on the couch and pulling her small feet to the floor, before bending down. Jack hands her one of the small shoes and she smiles.

“Cool.” He says, a small smile growing on his face at the thought of seeing his Uncles again. Emily looks at him with a smile, catching sight of his little grin and her heart melts. He looks at her, shy and quiet as his cheeks turn at shade of pink as she catches his excitement, “I’m going to blow up Dad’s zimmer frame.” He tells her, pointing behind his shoulder, Emily nods, watching him go with a smile before turning back to her daughter when she taps her hand gently.

“Who are Rick and Spencer?” Eve asks, looking at her mother with eyes that match her own.

“Derek, sweetie.” She corrects gently, “and they’re mine and Daddy’s friends.”

“Like Uncle Will and Aunt JJ?” She asks softly, wrapping her finger around one of her braids, “And Aunt Penny to?”

“Yeah,” Emily smiles, “They’re friends with them as well.”

“How come they’ve never been here before?”

“Well,” Emily starts, tapping her feet as she finishes putting her shoes on, “They’ve been busy.” Emily tells her, “But they’re very excited to meet you.” She smiles and the girl looks down with a smile of her own, giggling.

“Derek took over from Dad right? As Unit Chief?” Jack asks as he heads back into the living room with the blown up inflatable.

“Yeah,” Emily says, before looking at Jack and laughing at the sight of him carrying the blown up zimmer frame. “Oh my god.” She laughs, standing up. “He’s going to kill you.

“This was your gift!” He laughs, placing it next to the fireplace. The sound of Hotch coming down the stairs makes them look at each other and she laughs once again.

“Oh no,” She laughs, “This is all you I’m afraid.”

“That’s cruel.” He tells her, watching her grab Eve and lifting her to the ground, pulling down her dress and stroking her braids.

“What is that.” Hotch asks as he stops at the door, staring at the new item next to the fire place.

Emily rolls her lips, holding back her grin, swallowing her laugh as she looks at him innocently.

“Happy birthday?” Jack says with a smile. Aaron glares at him and the boy’s smile drops, “Again, this was Emily’s idea.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She lies, heading out of the room and towards the kitchen, Aaron grabs her arm gently and stops her.

“A zimmer frame, huh?” He asks and she looks at him, grinning as he smirks at her.

“You are getting old.” She tells him, shrugging her shoulders.

“Rude,” He tells her, she laughs as she heads back off towards the kitchen. Evie comes to his side then, lacing her hand around two of his fingers as he looks down. “Your mother is a rude woman, Evie.” He tells her, the two year old laughs as she looks up at him.

There’s a honk of a car outside the house then, and Evie’s face lights up as she jumps in the air. It’s a honk she’s familiar with.

There are three taps on the door before it opens, the sound of a rowdy boy echoing into the living room.

“Is that JJ?” Emily asks as she walks back into the living room.

“Uncle Will!” Evie screams as she runs towards the front door, the accent they’ve come to adore hits their ears as he lifts up the happy child.

“Hey Darlin’” Will says, resting the child on his hip and she hugs him. “Pretty dress.” He smiles, placing his hand in his sons head as they walk through the house, turning behind him to smile at his wife who’s staring with such affection his smile brightens.

“Aunt JJ!” Evie smiles over Will’s shoulder, her hand resting on his back.

“Hi, baby.” She smiles, her eight month old in her arms, “You look pretty.”

Eve smiles, before turning away at the sound of her mother’s voice as she greats Henry and Will.

“I see my child has got a hold of you.” She smiles, raising an eyebrow at her daughter.

“Doesn’t she always?” He smirks, more than happy to have the two year old in his arms. He and JJ have been in love with her since the moment she was born, their goddaughter, and it makes their hearts swell that she loves them just the same.

Henry be-lines for Jack, the eleven year old more than happy to have his company and Emily watches as Jack greets him with a smile, offering him a controller for the game.

“Where’s the birthday boy?” JJ teases as she looks around for Aaron, “Is that a zimmer frame?” She laughs and all eyes turn to it.

Emily laughs, “Jack’s idea.” She lies and JJ just hums, smirking at her friend.

“I’m sure.” She says, “Because you would never, right?” JJ jokes, looking back to the inflatable.

“She’d never what?” Hotch says as he enters the room, wrapping an arm around Emily’s waist as she appears next to her. The woman lifts her head to look at him, a cheeky grin on her face as she does. Hotch glares at her before he follows JJ’s eyes and he laughs. “Oh, no. She would. And she did.”

“I thought so.” JJ laughs, “It is pretty funny.” She says, scrunching her nose as she looks at her old boss turned close friend.

“See,” Emily laughs, “I’m funny.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Will jokes to JJ and the blonde woman turns to her husband, “If I wake up to an inflatable zimmer frame I will not be pleased.” The man smirks.

“Noted.” JJ laughs, turning back to face the other man, “Happy birthday, Hotch.” She smiles, “Henry made you a card,” She says, looking behind them to find the two boys engulfed in their game. “I’m sure you’ll get it at some point.” She jokes, sighing at the boys.

The adults laugh, following the Hotchner’s through the house and into the large garden, Will placing Eve on the floor, before they watch her run ahead of them and onto her play area in the garden, climbing the small steps of the slide.

“She becomes more feral every time we see her.” JJ says as they watch the girl scream and run around the garden, making her own fun with a large smile. The epitome of a happy child.

“It’s the Prentiss gene.” Hotch jokes as he passes Will a beer from the fridge, the man taking it with a nod of thanks.

“I don’t doubt that.” JJ laughs, earning a scoff from Emily as she passes the blonde a glass of wine, smiling softly as the baby in her arm fuses.

“Shall I go and put him down?” Will asks his wife, who nods, passing over their son gently.

“I’m okay to put him in the old crib? It’s still in the office right?” Will asks the couple, who nod.

“Of course, I’ll grab the baby monitors.” Hotch says, following the man through the house.

JJ watched as Emily smiles, eyes on Hotch as he walks away.

“It’s nice seeing you happy.” JJ says with a smile. Emily turns to face her, smiling herself. “I know Reid and Morgan are excited to meet Eve.”

“I still can’t believe they’ve never met her.” Emily says, sipping on her wine. “I always forget how far we moved until I remember the travel back for their wedding.” She huffs with a laugh.

“You do live in the middle of nowhere.” JJ agrees with a laugh, “As soon as I can bare to retire, this is totally where we’re moving.” She tells her, looking around the large garden, embracing the lack of city noise.

“The BAU still has you in chains, huh?” Emily jokes.

“Unfortunately,” JJ chuckles, “Although after everything that happened last year..” She sighs, shaking her head, “And after having Micheal, I think maybe the change will be coming sooner rather than later.”

“Well,” Emily starts, “I can’t speak for Aaron, but, for me? I couldn’t have imagined staying after finding out I was pregnant. Moving out here was the best decision I ever made.” She smiles, “The lack of serial killers is life changing.” She jokes, laughing with her friend.

“Look who I found roaming the streets,” Aaron jokes as he heads into the garden, and just as Emily goes to greet the guest, Eve beats her to it

“Aunt Penny!” She screams, running towards the woman.

“Oh my sweet girl.” Penelope coo’s as she picks the small girl up, wrapping her in her arms. “I have missed you.”

Eve giggles as Penelope holds her close, breathing in the small girl.

“My friends you make the most precious children.” Penelope tells Aaron and Emily. “When will you make more for me to cuddle?”

Emily barks a laugh as Hotch chuckles, taking a seat as he shakes his head.

Penelope lands Eve on the floor with a small cry, watching as she runs back into the grass.

“Please make more.” She says as she walks over to Emily, embracing her friend. “For me?”

“Not a chance,” Emily tells her, “She is absolutely insane.” And points to her Daughter as she screams as she hangs on the monkey bars.

“She is perfect.” Penelope gushes, “A perfect angel and I want more of them.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time.” Emily tells her, handing her a glass of wine as she pouts.

“Am I at the right house?” Morgan jokes as he walks through the garden, his hand laced with Reid’s as the tall man hangs behind him, almost shy.

“I don’t know, I guess it depends who you’re looking for.” Emily plays along, tilting her head as she smiles at him.

“Well,” He sighs, “I’m looking for a stoic man and an emotionally unavailable woman, but it seems i’ve walked into a house of domestic bliss.” He jokes as he walks towards her, dropping Reid’s hand as he greets the others, Morgan’s eyes only looking for Emily, he’ll greet everyone else later.

“Hello, princess.” He says, pulling her into him tightly, “It’s been far too long.”

“I saw you six months ago.. you know, when you got married?”

“Six months is a long time, princess.” He tells her, “You didn’t miss me?” He pouts, pulling away and looking at her, a playful frown on his face.

“I guess so.” She teases, falling back into his arms with a laugh. “I still can’t believe you’ve never been here.”

“I’ve never met this precious girl of yours either, where is she?” He asks as they pull away slowly.

“She would be the feral toddler on the monkey bars.” She says, pointing with her head in the direction of her child’s happy shouts.

“My god, she’s your twin.” He tells her with a huge grin, watching as a small girl runs around the garden with jet black hair, braided tightly, and dark eyes just like her mother’s.

“I’ve been told.” She smiles.

“She’s enchanting isn’t she.” Penelope says as she comes to Morgan’s side.

“She is.” He nods, unable to take his eyes off the happy child. “She’s so...happy.”

Emily turns away, holding back her tears of joy as she walks towards Reid as he chats with Aaron, JJ and Will.

“Hi,” Reid says, rushing to embrace her, “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you to.” She smiles, rubbing his back before pulling away, “Your husband is already obsessed with my child, it seems.” She smiles and Reid looks over, a glint of pure happiness in his eyes as he does.

“He’s been talking about meeting her all week.” He says with a smile, turning back to her, “I think he might steal her if you leave him alone with her.”

“He can take her.” Emily jokes, earning a laugh from the adults.

“I very much object to that.” Hotch says with a smile as he lifts the beer to his lips.

“Well you would,” Emily says, playfully rolling her eyes, “You’re her favourite.”

Hotch smirks, shrugging his shoulders. “Do you want to meet her?” He asks Reid, who looks at him, before shyly nodding. Hotch smiles at his small nod, before turning and walking towards his daughter.

“Don’t be so nervous,” JJ smiles and Reid turns to her, “Kids love you.”

“This is Emily’s daughter...” He says, “I doubt she’s anything like other kids.” He teases and Emily laughs.

“You’re right, as always.” She nods, “She’s feral.” She adds as they all walk over towards the garden, Reid heading over to Morgan as he watches Hotch take Eve’s hand as walk her over.

“She’s an angel.” Penelope tells them as they slide in next to her around the table.

“For you, maybe.” Emily grins.

Hotch takes Evie’s hand softly and walks them over to the two men, stopping as they stand in front of them. Eve hides behind his legs, her head poking over the side of his left one as she looks at the new men.

“Sweetie, this is Derek and Spencer,” He says, looking down at his daughter as she grabs his fingers in her hand, “Can you say hello?”

“Hi.” Eve says shyly, hugging an arm around her Dads leg as her other hand has a grip on his fingers.

Derek smiles at her, bending down to her level as she comes out from behind Hotch, standing next to him.

“Hi, pretty girl.” Derek smiles, gently introducing himself. “I’m Derek.”

“I’m Eve.” She says softly, looking to the floor before she looks at him, a soft smile on her face as the new man grins at her. “Are you daddy’s friend?”

“I am,” He nods, “Mommy’s friend too.”

“Who is the tall man?” She whispers to him, looking at the man stood behind him and Derek laughs.

“That’s Spencer,” He whispers, “He’s shy.” He tells her and she looks back at him, “Will you say hello for me?”

Eve looks at him, before looking up at her dad. When he nods, running a hand over her head she slowly walks towards him, looking up at him.

“Hi.” She says, her full voice strong and very much her mother’s tone. “I’m Eve.”

“Spencer.” He smiles, waving awkwardly.

“Do you want to see a frog I found?” She asks, and his eyes to wide.

“I do.” He says, his smile bigger now. “Did you know that frogs-“

“Reid.” Hotch stops him with a tap on his shoulder. “She’s two. Go and see the frog.”

Reid nods, following the little girl. His heart melts as she takes his hand, and as Morgan watches them, he can’t help but think how much he wants one as well.

“Our daughter is obsessed with Spencer.” Aaron says as he sits next to Emily, throwing an arm over her leg as he does.

“I told you,” JJ laughs, “Kids love him for some reason.”

“The Reid effect.” Penelope says, bringing the wine to her lips as the group laugh.

Emily finds Reid on the steps, sighing as she takes a seat next to him she grabs his hand.

“You okay?” She asks, he nods, his eyes watching Morgan, Eve on his hips as she points to things around the garden.

“Just thinking.” He smiles, turning to face her. “What?” He asks, as he finds her looking at him with a grin.

“Do you want one?” Emily asks him, pointing towards her daughter. His cheeks go red as he looks down.

“I know Derek does.” He tells her, “But, I don’t know. What if I’m just like my father?”

“Spence...” She says softly, “You are nothing like him, I promise.” She tells him. “You’ll be a great Dad.”

“You think?” He asks with a shy smile, looking at her. Emily squeezes his hand.

“I know.” She tells him.

“I’m happy for you, Em.” He tells her, “Look at this.” He says, regarding her home, her family, her life. “You did it.”

She laughs, a smile beaming from her lips.

“You have the family you deserve.” He says to her, “I couldn’t be happier for you.”

“Thank you.” She says, tears glassing over her eyes.

Emily moves rest her head on his shoulder as they turn to watch Morgan and Eve at the end of the garden. She can hear Hotch and Will laughing at something in the distance, just on the table behind her. She can hear Jack and Henry chatting in the kitchen, their voices filled with joy.

Later that night, after they’ve said goodbye to their friends, Emily watches as Aaron carries their sleeping daughter to bed, smiling as Jack passes past her with a smile.

“Goodnight.” He says to her, “Today was fun.”

“It was,” She smiles, running a hand through his hair before kissing the top of his head. “Goodnight.”

She watches from the door frame as Aaron places a soft kiss on their daughters head, before turning off her lights.

“Hi,” He smiles, wrapping her in his arms in the doorway. “Busy day, huh.”

“Very.” She says, her whole body feeling the effects of it.

“I love you.” He smiles, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“I love you, too.” She replies, kissing him once again before he pats her back and heads to the master bedroom.

Emily turns to her daughter then, watching the rise and fall of her chest before she closes the floor.

Once in bed, she rolls into her husbands arms and sighs contently, closing her eyes as his arms wrap around her.

“Sleep.” He whispers softly to her, something he does every night as she lays with him, something that started just after they did, after Doyle and Paris, after nightmares and insomnia. It just stuck. It’s something she has to hear now, before even thinking about getting any rest. “I love you.” He tells her again.

“I love you.” She mumbles, already half asleep in his arms.

They did it, she thinks as sleep steals her.

She did it.

She found her happiness.

fin

#evelyn prentiss hotchner <3 i love you #hotchniss fic #hotchniss #i always forget about dave :/ so sorry rossi stans </3 #will <3 the truest king of the show #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #moreid #spencer reid #derek morgan #willifer #bau family fic #criminal minds fic #domestic hotchniss #if you ever hate on evie i will come for you actually she’s innocent #my fics

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

Text

Packed Love (BB AU!, JJK x Reader) 💜(🔪)(🔞)

🍱 Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (Bunny Boy AU!)

🍱 Genre: Yandere AU!(Although very minor mentions of it), fluff, slight mentions of smut at the end

🍱 Warnings: Look mom, I can write stuff that's not nasty! Its literally just pure fluff

🍱 Summary: Jeon Jungkook hated his birthday. But considering that his birth also meant he'd been able to meet you, it wasn't so bad, after all.

This is only sidecontent! The full work can be found here:

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Jungkook hated his birthday.

There was no easy way to put it. He was never really vocal about the date he had been born into this world, and always made sure that everyone around him knew he wasn't joking or compliment-fishing whenever he said he did not want anyone to even acknowledge his date of birth. No one really questioned it, figuring that the young boy had his issues for a reason; they didn't really pry. He kind of liked that about them.

However, now he wasn't alone anymore.

She knew from a look onto his ID-Card once at what exact day he'd been born, a pure accident. Otherwise she would've shamefully had to admit that it completely never crossed her mind. Her own birthday was something she forgot herself almost every year; so maybe that was why she was adamant to remember his.

When she showed up at his workplace, she couldn't spot him at all. To be fair however, she'd never visited him at all- she only remembered the place from a past visit when he'd forgotten something at work like his wallet or his phone charger. It sometimes happened, yet she'd never left the car during these small visits, always listening to Jungkook to stay behind.

"You lost?" A tall guy asked, surprisingly with no malicious intent in his voice whatsoever. He seemed friendly, curious on why she was there- well, she could see how it looked a bit weird to see a young girl dressed in a white summer dress at a dirty motor shop like this.

"I uh.. I'm looking for Jungkook?" She asked, and the guy smiled, nodding before he wiped his hand with a towel nearby, silently telling her to wait. She took the time to really look around for a moment, many machines and tools she had no clue where for what laying around, making her wonder if Jungkook knew how to use all of this. He was truly an amazing young guy- even though she was a bit biased, maybe. But whenever she asked him something, he seemed to have an explanation for it, no matter how weird or insignificant her questions seemed. She adjusted the small bag in her hand, the box containing some homemade cake and lunch for him suddenly feeling heavy. What if he didn't want anything? What if it tasted bad? Or what if she'd overstepped a boundary by coming here? She knew he didn't like that, so what if-

"Angel?" His voice asked, as he walked towards her with wide eyes, looking like he'd rushed all the way towards her as he stopped in front of her, checking if she was okay. "Everything alright? What're you doing here?" He asked, and she looked at the grinning guy behind Jungkook for a moment, his teasing eyes evident. Jungkook was ready to throw a comment his way, as he'd beat the young boy to it.

"Take a break romeo, but no funny business." He said, and someone else working underneath a car she hadn't noticed yet laughed at that, making her jump a bit. Jungkook led her outside, before opening a door to a small break room it seemed, lights flickering as they turned on with a bit of hesitation, probably due to age.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" He asked suddenly, as she shook her head, cheeks now dusted pink at the fact she had to come clear on her intentions now. She simply but the small cotton bag down, revealing the stacked lunch box. Sure, it was sadly not the most plain one, pastel blue and white with numerous stickers on it, but you didn't own anything else. You also had no idea what to really get him- since you didn't have a job, you didn't have much money. And buying him a present with his own money seemed.. weird. He simply looked at it, opening the boxes to reveal their contents; neatly placed and decorated with outmost care. Jungkooks eyes widened at the view, fresh scent hitting him as well as the warmth radiating off of the savory foods where his fingers touched the box, showing him that you'd just finished cooking, and went to bring it immediately. You'd dedicated time and effort into this, for him, for his birthday. He didn't even care at this point how you knew;

because for the first time, he felt happy receiving something for his birthday.

"I uhm.. if you don't like it I'm-" She started, yet couldn't finish as he'd leaned over, holding her cheek in his hand as he kissed her deeply, gratitude a prominent taste on his lips as his hand moved, now buried into her hair.

"Don't-" He started, pecking her lips once more before he chuckled. "Don't finish that sentence. I love it." He said, kissing her again as she giggled. "I love it. I love you. Thank you." He said, before finally letting her breathe, sitting down to eat.

Truth be told, he'd eat it even if it had tasted bad, just because she'd dedicated so much time and effort to making it, but he had to actually admit that it tasted absolutely amazing. It filled his soul with warmth in a way he hadn't been able to feel for a long time, making him almost teary eyed as he scarfed everything down.

He looked at her as she'd placed her elbows on the table, chin resting on her palms as she watched him with a fond smile. He smiled back, as he picked up a piece of meat with his chopsticks, holding it out to her lips as she tilted her head. "Open up Angel." He said, and she blushed a bit before parting her lips, letting him feed her as he smiled. "When did you even make this?" He asked, wondering since it was barely 12. She simple shrugged, as she spoke.

"I woke up right after you left for work, and then started right away." She said, and his eyes widened. He gets up at 5, and he knew for a fact that she hated to get up early. How pure and angelic could she really get? Jungkooks eyes softened as he picked up another piece of food, resting his own cheek now on his palm as he watched her take what he gave her without hesitation. So obedient. "I messed up the cake once, so I had to do it again." She said, and it was only now he noticed the red stripe on the back of her hand, something he'd first brushed off as maybe a simple mark from the way she'd carried something or whatever. But.. she'd gotten hurt? Because of him? She seemed to sense his uneasiness as she immediately tried to calm him. "Nothing bad happened though, it doesn't hurt at all- I'm just clumsy, thats all!" She said, and he nodded, deciding to leave it at that. He would keep an eye on her from now on though.

"I'm finishing my shift soon- do you want to stay here, or do you want to go home?" He asked, knowing her answer already. She still had her drivers license- she was technically free to take his car and come back later to pick him up, but ever since the accident, she'd refused to sit behind the steering wheel- much to his pleasure. He never liked the fact that she drove anyways. He could deal with her in the kitchen, he'd already made sure no Knife was too sharp anyways. So when she shook her head, he already had a plan for her. "Okay. My stuff is right there, where my Jacket is. You can stay here, I'll leave my phone with you. I'll hurry, and then we'll go home, alright?" He asked, and she looked at him innocently.

"Don't you want to go somewhere on your birthday?" She asked, and he closed the now empty food containers with a grin, before he leaned over, brushing some hair away from her face.

"Oh angel-" He said, voice low as his eyes stuck to her lips. "the only place I want to be after I finish here is between your legs."

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts reactions #bts yandere #bts yandere au #yandere jeon jungkook

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Say I’m in Love

I had an idea at 2am that Janus sarcastically asks Roman to marry him during arguments, but each time he asks he means it a little more until he realizes he’s completely in love with Roman, until he can’t stand the rejection anymore and runs away because Roman would never believe him if he admitted his feelings, only for Roman to come after him and propose instead.

This isn’t quite that, though it is in a similar vein. I started with that idea and it evolved into this. That being said, if anyone wants to take the original idea and run with it, feel free, just remember to tag me!

AO3

...

The first time he asks, he doesn’t mean it in the slightest. They’re in the middle of an argument, him and Logan against Roman and Patton, Virgil staying out of it, either because he didn’t have an opinion or he didn’t want to get involved.

“Roman, you’re absolutely charming right now. Won’t you marry me already?” He snaps, breath hissing in and out, and everyone freezes at his comment. Roman’s face has gone red, from anger or embarrassment, he can’t tell, but the longer the silence goes on, the more he feels his own shame at his words burning at his throat. “sorry. That was… out of line.” He mumbles, adjusting his capelet.

“I apologize, also. You are correct, I have not been my most… chivalrous, this afternoon. Perhaps… perhaps we should all take a break, to calm down. Then we can work out a… compromise?” Roman says, face flushing redder at the question in his voice. The moment is broken by Virgil slow clapping from the stairs.

“Wooow, both of you apologized and Princey suggested a compromise? It’s a miracle!”

“Yes, thank you, Virgil. Your sarcasm had been duly noted, and disregarded. Now. Don’t come get me when we’re ready to start over.” He comments, popping back to his room before anyone else has time to comment.

…

The second time, he’s had a bad day. He feels heavy and disjointed, not all there, not all focused. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, he just knows he didn’t sleep well and he can’t seem to get comfortable, so he forces himself out of bed and down the stairs, dragging his blanket behind him, before collapsing on the couch. It’s almost 1pm, far later than his usual first appearance in the commons since the whole wedding debacle, since he was accepted, truly, since he was welcomed.

He doesn’t remember drifting off, but he shoots awake as he feels a hand on his shoulder, letting out a small groan, having flung his arm over his eyes at some point.

“What on earth could possibly be important enough to disturb me for, Roman?” he asks, wincing at the pounding that has started near his temple.

“Are you okay?” He snorts at the question, rolling his eyes as he halfheartedly glares at Roman.

“Just peachy.” He snarks, and Roman backs away, hands in the air. He can feel Roman’s eyes on him as he left the room, and sinks deeper into the couch. He’s surprised when a moment later, Roman returns from the kitchen, sitting down next to him.

“Alright. Here you go.” He looks down at the table, a bit confused.

“What… is this?” Roman looks at him, lip quirked up in a half smile.

“Well that, is a glass of water. And that is something for the headache you’ve got cooking in your noggin. And those are crackers, since you have not eaten anything all day.” He looks slowly up at Roman, eyes narrowed.

“I am not sick.” Roman’s eyebrow raises.

“I did not say that. You, however, just did.” He groans, sinking even further into the blanket, so his eyes are just barely visible.

“I do not get sick.” He mumbles.

“Of course not, bananaconda. Now take the medicine.” He sighs, but complies, drinking the rest of the water and nibbling at some crackers as well. He barely notices Roman getting up, coming back a moment later with a Gatorade, and dimming the lights. He breathes a sigh of relief as some of the pain dissipates.

“God, I could marry you right now.” He mumbles, finding the Gatorade is cold, and he lets Roman rest a cold rag on his forehead.

“I think the fever’s getting to your head, Jan.” He doesn’t reply, just hums and closes his eyes, trying to squash down the warm, fuzzy feeling starting to grow in his chest.

…

The third time he doesn’t say it. He’s in his room, relaxing in his plush desk chair. He’d been doing a color by number, choosing whatever color he wanted for each number instead of going by the recommended color chart.

He hears a knock on his door, and gets up, confused when he sees no one there. Then he looks down, and sees a small gift basket, wrapped in a red ribbon with a small card printed with Roman’s logo. He rolls his eyes, and brings it inside, smiling as he unpacks it.

There’s a collection of lotions, each of which smells deep and heady, just the kind of scent he loves. There’s also a few moisturizing oils, for his scales, which he’s a bit grateful for, he can tell his shed is about to start and making his own was a bit of a hassle. He laughs at the small snake plushie, but drapes it across his bed’s headboard anyway, smiling fondly as he leans against the bed for a moment, before his eyes widen and he nearly slaps himself.

No. no no no, he cannot do this, he cannot do this to himself, he will not be so stupidly naïve.

He is not in love with Roman.

…

The rest come in small moments of delight, of happiness, moments where he forgets to deny himself what he cannot have, when he cannot squash the fondness inside of him, when he forgets to push down the silent, useless emotion he refuses to give credence to.

Playing Mario Kart, and he exploits every loophole and shortcut, strategically laying bananas, somehow always avoiding the blue shell when he is in first, slowing down enough someone passes him and gets hit instead, Roman cursing his skill, every time demanding another round, both of them grinning and sweating by the end of their tournament.

…

Roman gets up early one morning, makes breakfast. When he comes into the kitchen, Roman slides a plate of waffles, covered in homemade whipped cream and chocolate shavings in front of him, along with a coffee filled with the perfect amount of froth, a heart patterned on it. His own nearly stops, breathless.

“Morning sleepy serpent.” He mumbles something, heart stopping at how beautiful Roman looks, still in his pajamas, hair sleep mussed, but eyes bright, light from the window shining onto him as he turns back to the stove, flipping pancakes, humming, then singing, belting out showtunes. He catches himself almost sighing at how sweet Roman’s voice is, before he snaps out of his trance, just barely getting his emotions under control as Patton comes barreling down the stairs, summoned by Disney and the smell of pancakes.

…

It’s a late night, they’ve had a movie marathon and the others all turned in hours ago, giving up one by one, Virgil the latest to leave. He is debating the morals of Disney characters, tearing apart the heroes and defending the villains.

“How was he to know that toys are alive? He was using his creativity, to combine and make new, original, toys! If he hadn’t been traumatized by Woodie and Co, maybe he would have ended up an engineer instead of a garbage man.”

“Ugh, fine! You have me on that one. It’s technically Pixar, anyway.” Roman mutters, and he laughs. “Since you concede there, I’ll give you Scar.” Roman looks at him, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Seriously? I figured you’d defend him to the death.” He shrugs, yawning.

“Mostly due to the cut song where he tries to… let’s generously call it ‘woo’, Nala, which is why she leaves to find help in the first place. Plus, he never really wanted change or peace, he just framed his alliance with the hyenas in that manner to gain control. Besides, everyone knows it’s better to be loved than feared. If you really want complete control, make every choice seem like their own, make every action seem benign or like a favor. Get what you want by making it seem like what the people want.” Roman is staring at him, agape, and he flushes.

He winces, because of course he ruined this, they were having a moment, and he ruined it. “… I’ll give you Ursula, if we’re counting cut scenes. She was technically overthrown and banished by Triton, though she did nothing wrong. Her vengeance is a bit extreme, but she at least had good reason for it, and really only wanted what was always supposed to be hers.” Roman answers after a moment, and he nearly sighs in relief, though he gets the feeling they were both talking about more than just Disney villains.

He’s absolutely mortified, and not at all the least bit pleased when he’s awoken the next morning by Virgil, smiling smugly at him, having fell asleep, head resting on Roman’s chest, Roman’s arm around his shoulder, a blanket pulled up over the two of them. He certainly strives to make sure it never happens again.

…

He's a mess. A miserable, stupid, mess. He can't stop thinking of Roman, can’t stop striving for his smiles, the soft, fond one he receives in moments of quiet, the bright, mischievous one that brings out his dimples, the small, confused one when he didn’t understand why he was pulling away. His laugh, loud and ringing, the nicknames bestowed upon him at every chance, the small, subtle touches that sent his heart racing and his mind into overdrive and he was burning, aching, from want.

The desire to run his fingers through Roman's hair, to feel his hands around his waist, to kiss him until they were both silly from it, to say every sweet word and guileless truth about how absolutely perfectly stunning Roman is, to defend him and his ideas, to protect him from his own self doubts and negative thinking, to repair every crack he himself had made in Roman's armor, to apologize a thousand times until the side knew he absolutely truly meant every word of flattery he had ever said.

He hisses at a knock on his door, drawing back into the shadows. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, he doesn’t want to see anyone, he just wants to wallow in his misery until this wrenching heartbreak goes away and leaves him alone! It’s no use, wanting something he can’t have. He won’t lie to himself and say otherwise.

“Kiddo? You okay?” Patton, who can probably feel his emotional distress from miles away.

“I'm fine.” He forces out, wrangling his voice into some sense of normalcy, wincing at the acrid lie on his tongue. He can feel Patton's hesitation, but the fatherly figure sighs.

“Alright. But Jan? If you decide that you’re not fine, you know I’m here for you.” Then Patton walks away, and he’s only mildly surprised to feel wetness dripping down his cheeks.

“I’m fine.” He whispers, curling in on himself, choking on tears. “I’m perfectly fine.”

…

Day three is when it all falls apart. He hasn’t left his room, he hasn’t moved much from his curled up spot on the floor, and it hurts why does it still hurt?

He thought if he just stayed away, if he put distance between himself and Roman, if… if he detoxed it would go away, these pesky, useless feelings would go away!

But they haven’t. They’re still pounding away with every beat of his heart, and he’s half convinced it would be better to just rip the stupid thing out than let it make such a fool of him.

He knows limits. He understands them, he knows how far he can push the others before they start to break, he knows how much to push to make them give, he knows how far he can push before things start well and truly crumbling to ruin, and he knows, better than any of the others, his own limits.

He knows what he can and cannot have, he knows how to be selfish without taking too much, and he knows this is something he cannot take, something he will never be given. He’s still the serpent, after all, still the liar, still the deceiver, still the snake in the grass, waiting to strike. He’s said I love you a thousand times to Roman, meant it more and more with each iteration, but he knows he doesn’t deserve to be loved. Not by Roman, whom he had broken so badly not so long ago, accidently, yes, and he had apologized, but still. He’d known how fragile the ego was, how tightly he was clinging to the final thread, and he’d still cut the strand without a second thought. He’s not to be trusted, least of all by himself, even his own heart has turned against him.

“Janus? Can I come in?” He freezes at that voice, it makes his stomach sink and his pulse race and he feels a strange sense of vertigo.

“No.” He says, as deadpan as possible, as much emphasis as he can, and he can almost see the frown on Roman’s face.

“You haven’t been out in three days. Are you sick again?”

“I’m fine, Roman, go bother someone else!” He spits out, anger creeping into his voice, because Roman is the source of this festering wound, even if he doesn’t know it. If he’s angry, he won’t be sad, angry he can do, angry he can fake as well as anyone.

“no you’re not. I’m coming in.” He curses, lunging to his feet, but the door is already open before he has even a hope of locking it, and he and Roman stare at each other for a silent moment, before he looks away, biting his tongue. “Jesus, Jan. What happened to you?” He winces, knowing he must look a mess, knowing his hair is tangled and wild from running his hands through it so often, his face is a mess of dried tears and dark bags, his clothes are rumpled and wrinkled and his normally immaculate room is a bit dusty.

“Nothing. Now go away.” He demands, turning to stalk to his desk. He feels a hand on his shoulder, warmth blooms down his arm, and he inhales sharply, turning and actually slapping Roman as he stumbles back, barely aware of the tears streaming down his eyes, because this is so goddamn hard. “Don’t. Don’t touch me, Roman.” He spits, venom in his voice, eyes sharp and fangs sharper. He hates this, hates playing this part again, but he needs Roman to leave.

“ok. I’m sorry, I should have asked.” He chokes on his bitter laughter because damn it, Roman is the perfect gentleman, isn’t he? He’s stepped back, hands raised in the air, the only thing on his face concern, not anger, or fear, or pain at the handprint still red across his cheek. “please, Janus. I know you’re hurting. I just want to know why, I just want to help.” He laughs this time, a wild, harsh sound.

“That’s cute, Roman, but this isn’t one of your fairy tale quests where you rescue a damsel in distress. This is real life, with real problems, and maybe, for once, you should let it get through your thick skull that this ISN’T ONE YOU CAN FIX!” He screams, letting his words be cold, letting them be cruel, as he crumples to the floor, heaving, gasping in air through the shaking sobs squeezing tight his chest. “you can’t fix me.” He whispers, not caring if Roman hears, because what’s the point? He’s a pathetic, mewling lump, and surely after that display Roman will leave, warned off by his extremeness.

“Janus.” He flinches at his name, whispered so softly, so gently, almost holding the thing he wishes more than anything his name would contain, coming from Roman’s lips, but that hope is a lie, a deceitful, monstrous lie, just like the rest of him. “why do you think you’re broken?” He doesn’t answer. He won’t answer, he won’t say it aloud, not now, not when Roman will see how much he actually means it. He squeezes his hands into fists, forcing his chin up, forcing himself to glare at Roman.

“You should leave. Before I answer that question honestly.” He bares his fangs in a snarl, gold covering his pupils, racing throughout the room, lighting it up with a thousand pretty little lies that echo in Roman’s ears, telling him exactly how worthless and useless and pathetic he is, and he hisses for good measure, standing and sauntering over to Roman, leering at him.

“I’m the dragon guarding the tower, I’m the hydra fighting Hercules, I’m the snake here to lead you astray, I’m the villain, I’m the bad guy, I stand against everything you’ve ever believed in, little prince. You’d be so easy to dispose of. Then who could stop me, hmmm? No one. I could kill you right where you stand, and no one would ever know a thing, my greatest performance would be replacing you. Or do you forget what I am, Roman, what I well and truly am?” He stands back, fangs sharp as he grins, letting out a dark, sinister laugh, one that reverberates off the walls, and something is breaking inside him, something is cracking and crumbling and he hates himself, hates every moment, but if Roman hates him, too, then he’ll just go.

“Janus.” Roman says again, so soft, and his grin falters, his mask slips for a moment before he rights it, scowling as Roman steps forwards, undaunted, something strange in his eyes, something soft and worried. “you don’t have to do this.” He stumbles back at Roman’s words, shaking his head.

“stop.”

“I know you’re afraid. That’s why you’re doing this, you’re scared, and that’s ok.” He’s shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut, trying to push back the tears.

“Stop.”

“I know you don’t mean it, Jan. And I won’t run away just because of a few threats. I want to help you, I want to be there, I want you to trust me enough to tell me what is hurting you so terribly… please.” He feels Roman’s hand on his, and he jerks back, hitting the wall, eyes snapping open, breath coming in short gasps, and he wraps his arms around himself, shaking.

“STOP IT!” He shouts, voice breaking into a million pieces, and the gold vanishes, his façade crumbling, only raw emotion left in his voice. “Stop caring, stop asking to help, stop acting like you’re my friend, stop being kind, stop being so fucking nice to me, stop getting inside my head, stop making me feel happy being near you, stop sending butterflies winging through my stomach, stop making me smile, stop making me laugh, stop being so fucking incredible that I can’t help but love you!” He screams, jabbing his finger into Roman’s chest with every word, tears falling down his face as he finally says it, all the fight draining out of him as he collapses, empty, caught by Roman, who lowers them both gently to the floor.

He doesn’t have the will to pull away from Roman’s all encompassing embrace. He doesn’t have the strength left to silence the tears, to force Roman out, to go back to being alone.

Shame curdles in his stomach as he breathes in Roman’s scent, lilacs and sweet summer breezes, as he melts against Roman’s chest, as his hands fist the fabric of Roman’s shirt and he sobs, hopelessly sobs, because this is an empty victory. Once he manages to pull away, he’ll see the pity and disgust on Roman’s face, and this, this will be well and truly over.

“I’m s-orry. I’m so, s-so s-sorry, I didn’t mean f-for this to happen, I h-hoped it would just go away but they won’t, and I’m s-sorry…” he gasps, shaking, exhaustion cresting over him, and despite himself the ache is being soothed, because Roman is holding him, and then he just feels sick at his own selfish want.

“Oh, my little mocking jay, why didn’t you just say something?” He laughs at that, throat raw and scratched.

“because then you’d know. And it would all be over, anyway. You don’t love me, you could never love me, I’m not nearly good enough for you, I’m not good at all, really. I’m not… I’m not what you want, Roman. I can never be what you want me to be. And I just… I just keep hurting you.” He whispers, heart shattering a little more as Roman pulls back, and he closes his eyes, taking a huge breath in, trying to control the crushing, plunging depths of his despair.

“Janus. Who says you aren’t already exactly what I want?” His breath catches at Roman’s words, at the tenderness they hold, at the painful hope blooming in his chest. He trembles as he feels Roman rest a hand on his scaled cheek, gently stroking the scales with his thumb.

“don’t lie to me, Roman. Please, I can’t… it already hurts so much, I can’t listen to you lie to me.”

“Does it feel like I’m lying, dearest?” It doesn’t. It really doesn’t. Slowly, he opens his eyes, meeting Roman’s worried, soft… loving… gaze. “I love you, Janus. You’re funny, and smart, and I love your sarcasm, your half awake morning bedhead, how you gesture when you’re passionate, how all your emotion lives in your eyes.” Roman murmurs, a small, warm smile on his lips as he moves his hand, stroking back a stray piece of hair. “I love you for so many miniscule reasons it would take me a thousand thousand years to list them all. I would have told you sooner, darling, but I didn’t want to pressure you, not while you were still settling in.”

“Roman…” he says weakly, he’s so flat out tired, so worn down and hollow and empty that he doesn’t even know what to say, what to feel, except this warming in his chest slowly spreading to the rest of him, making him feel lighter than he had in ages.

“come here, dearest.” Roman says, and he can’t help but collapse into Roman’s lap, letting the creative side pull him close, pressing his head against Roman’s chest, more tears slipping out as he feels Roman gently stroking his back, cradling his head, murmuring soft assurances and words of gentle warmth, and repeated, wonderful, ‘I love you’s’ that ring true every time, and all he can do is keep clinging to Roman, praying he doesn’t wake up from this dream.

Then Roman tilts his chin up, his pulse jumping at the touch, then Roman’s lips are on his and he melts at the explosion of warmth and color and light sparking in his mind, and he’s pressing forwards, desperate, and Roman is soft and warm and perfect and it’s everything, it’s everything he’s wanted for so, so long now.

When they finally break apart, he’s breathless and flushed and the broken emptiness is almost gone, almost fully replaced with hope and love and light, and he laughs as Roman sweeps him off his feet, holding him bridal style as he showers his face in small kisses, each one making him flush redder and redder, until he yawns, despite himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are my affections boring you, pretty little liar?” Roman teases, and he grins, nuzzling against Roman’s chest, letting out a soft breath that seems to untie the last lingering knot in his chest.

“Obviously. What a trial.” He mumbles, feeling Roman stroking his hair again, realizing his eyes have slipped closed.

“When did you last sleep, mi amor?” He shrugs, he doesn’t know, honestly, and now that Roman is holding him, it’s the only thing his body wants, it takes everything in him not to just fall asleep now. “alright. Let’s get you to bed then. We can talk more in the morning.”

“stay. Please.” He asks, nearly begs, eyes flying wide with sudden fear, suddenly sure that if Roman walks out the door, he’ll wake to find he was dreaming, because there’s no way this is real, no way Roman loves him.

“of course, little hisser. I wouldn’t dream of leaving my beloved alone and unprotected from any foul nightmares that may come his way.” Roman soothes, sliding into bed with him still in his arms, immediately spooning gently around him, and he shifts closer, closing the little space there was left between them, until their legs are entangled and his forehead is resting in the crook of Roman’s shoulder, and Roman’s arms are around him, and he’s still holding tight to Roman’s shirt, feeling him exhale against his cheek.

“I love you, lovely. Now get some rest.” And finally, he does.

#roman sanders #sympathetic roman #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sanders sides #minor virgil appearance #minor logan appearance #minor patton appearance #pining #self esteem issues #deceit angst #some angst #some fluff #Happy Ending #rociet #roman x deceit #soft boys

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elwenyere · 4 years

Text

Call My Bluff

(Stony ficlet inspired by the prompt from @wired-heartbeats, “Why are we the only two people relatively good at strip poker here damn it guess I gotta lose on purpose to get this rollin huh”)

“All right, chumps,” Clint said, flicking cards expertly across the table from his perch on the kitchen counter, “the little blind is a sock, and the big blind is an item of outerwear of your choice.”

Of course, since Clint hadn’t suggested they play strip poker until the team had already made a substantial dent in Bruce’s latest batch of home-brew IPAs, some of them didn’t have many choices left at this point. Bruce had managed to hold onto both socks but was otherwise down to just his boxers, a white tee shirt, and a watch. Natasha had discarded a jacket, a headband, and a boot. And Thor and Clint were both surrounded by piles of clothing, though Tony suspected they were actually stripping at a faster rate than they were losing.

Steve, on the other hand, had yet to shed a single item.

It was infuriating, really, because Tony had spent all day reviewing the World’s Most Soul-Deadening Slide Presentations ahead of the Board meeting tomorrow – a meeting for which he’d also promised Pepper that he would stay sober – and so the very least he deserved for so much good behavior was for the supersolider with whom he’d been hopelessly infatuated for the last two years to show a little skin, for Christ’s sake. Instead, the only consolation available was that Tony was playing about as well as Steve, having sacrificed only his tie and a pair of cufflinks to win a button-down shirt from Bruce on the previous hand.

Tony folded early this time around, partially because Clint was squinting one eye in a way that meant he was going to bet big and partially because Tony wanted to watch Steve’s face as he checked the bet. Tony had learned more and more of Steve’s tells over the years: the furrow between his brows that meant he was worried, the crossed arms that meant he was remembering something he couldn’t talk about. The data set grew regularly these days, filling out with the little signs that let Tony predict how Steve was going to move and what he was going to need. But still, for the life of him, Tony could not read whatever it was that flashed across Steve’s face in moments like this one, when he glanced up at Tony as he thumbed the edge of his cards. The expression came and went, leaving a sensation like a hot coal in the center of Tony’s chest.

“It’s my deal,” Steve said finally, and Tony snapped out of his reverie in time to notice that Thor had won the last hand, and Clint was now heading to the pantry to grab potato chips wearing nothing but a pair of purple boxer-briefs.

Natasha, meanwhile, was taking much longer than seemed strictly necessary to relieve herself of a pullover sweater, and Tony suddenly froze in the act of picking up his cards: because how had Natasha given up a sweater? Tony had lost every bet he’d made with her since the days when Natalie Rushman was clearing his schedule for lunch at Carbone, and she had just abandoned her second-largest item of clothing to a pocket-nines bluff from Thor, God of Incurable Credulity? Not fucking likely.

Tony narrowed his eyes as he watched her twirl the discarded sweater in a few graceful circles with her wrist. Noticing his glare, she gave him the tiniest of smirks, her head inclining across the table. Tony followed its direction and saw that Bruce was staring openly, mouth hanging slightly ajar, cards lying untouched on the table.

Well that was an interesting development.

Tony felt a slow grin spreading across his face, and he looked instinctively back toward Steve to see if he had noticed Natasha’s adaptation to the game as well. But when he met Steve’s gaze, the grin stuck, only halfway formed. Because Steve was staring directly at him and wearing an expression that (as Tony had learned through painful experience) roughly translated to: “wearing a parachute would only slow me down.”

Steve dealt the river card without even glancing at it.

“I’d like to raise the bet,” he said. “Nothing shy of two yards of fabric.”

“A rousing challenge!” Thor yelled, slapping his cards down on the table. “I would hate to give way under any less brave an assault.”

“I’m out,” Natasha smiled. “I don’t think I have the kind of action this round calls for.”

Tony twirled his cards between his thumb and index finger, doing his best to pass off the sudden firing of his nerves as indecision over his hand. Steve had leaned back in his chair, but his eyes hadn’t left Tony’s, and whatever look Tony had caught a glimpse of earlier was fixed in place now, making Tony feel vaguely like the arc reactor was overheating.

“I’ll call,” Tony said, drumming his fingertips on the table. Steve finally broke eye contact to look down at the movement, and Tony watched in disbelief as his jaw somehow set even further: like concrete getting pressed into granite.

“I’m uhh – I’m out I think? Yeah, I’m going to fold,” Bruce said.

“Probably the right choice, Banner,” Clint nodded sagely, now back from the kitchen and tossing barbecue chips to himself in the air.

“Okay boys, show us the goods,” Natasha demanded.

“Full house,” Tony announced, laying down a king and a queen.

“Well, you’ve got me there, Tony,” Steve replied. Slowly and deliberately, he turned over his cards to reveal a king and a ten.

A pair of kings? But that was a garbage hand. That meant that Steve –

Steve was reaching down and peeling off his undershirt and sweater in one smooth motion.

“Bad luck, I guess,” he said. And then he gave a shrug that sent an absolutely criminal ripple of movement across his bare chest.

Oh. Oh: that smug, chiseled bastard.

“Deal the cards, Nat,” Tony said, taking care to wet the tips of his fingers with his tongue before he plucked his off the table.

One hand later, Tony was slipping the waist of his pants slowly over his hips. Two hands later, Steve was using more muscles to remove a pair of socks than Tony had known the human body to contain. When Tony retaliated by rolling up his sleeves before peeling off his own socks, Steve ripped his belt off with a speed that made Tony feel like the armor had taken a blow to the head. By the time Tony shimmied his way out of his dress shirt, Bruce had to pretend to bump into the table before Tony remembered there were other people in the room.

“I’m going to head to bed,” Steve said abruptly, tearing his eyes away from Tony’s forearms as he stood up. “Gotta know when your luck has turned.”

“Oh someone’s getting lucky, for sure,” Clint smirked, and then he ducked — almost in time to avoid a projectile potato chip from Natasha.

“Yeah, so I’m just going to…go be over there now,” Tony said, in what he felt was an impressive display of self-possession for someone staring at the retreating ass of Steve Rogers.

“Don’t say I never did anything nice for you, Tony,” Natasha called after him as he scurried out of the room.

He barely made it around the corner and into the hallway before he was being swung around and held against the wall, one of Steve’s hands planted firmly against his chest.

“Took you long enough to get out of that shirt,” Steve growled.

“I could have gotten to the shirt faster if someone weren’t an unrepentant cheater who was dealing from the bottom of the deck – again,” Tony shot back, gripping the loops of Steve’s jeans and pulling their hips together.

“I must have misread your signals then, because I was pretty sure you were interested in what I might do from the bottom,” Steve whispered, his lips teasingly close.

“God, Rogers,” Tony groaned, “how can you be so corny and so hot at the same time? It drives me completely nuts.”

“It does?” Steve asked, the pressure against Tony’s chest lightening as Steve pulled back to search Tony’s face.

“No, Steve,” Tony said patiently, “I just wriggled my hips in front of Clint Fucking Barton because you fill me with incredibly casual, ordinary thoughts. Of course you drive me nuts, you idiot. I’ve been crazy about you for years.”

And that was probably more of a revelation than a race to lose at strip poker merited, but Tony couldn’t regret it, because a totally new expression had bloomed over Steve’s face. As Steve leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, one finger tracing the line of Tony’s jaw, Tony tried to memorize it. Tell: the smile that meant Steve Rogers was happy.

#stony #stony fic #stony fanfiction #steveandtony #avengers as family #avengers play strip poker #it goes about as well as you would think #I tried to make it sexy but it got corny at the end because I am who I am

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musecharm-writes · 4 years

Text

Curiosity Killed the Cat Burglar (Tony Stark X Reader)

ANONYMOUS: You write for marvel? Awesome! Ive always wondered ehat would happen if someone tried to reverse engineer one of Tony's suits just for curiosity instead of evil or money... could you write something where Tony finds reader doing something like that? Thanks!!

Summary: You’ve been training yourself for months for this mission (not even counting the time you’d spent learning all the skills you would need in order to even make it a possibility), and now you’re finally here, so close to what you’ve been waiting for for so long…it almost feels too easy.

You’ve been training yourself for months for this mission (not even counting the time you’d spent learning all the skills you would need in order to even make it a possibility), and now you’re finally here, so close to what you’ve been waiting for for so long… it almost feels too easy.

You’d spent weeks perfecting the software that let you into the Stark Industries mainframe so you could access the blueprints of the ventilation system. You’d taken great lengths to memorise the layout; you could recreate the map flawlessly if called upon to do so. You’d made a backup plan for absolutely anything and everything that could possibly go wrong.

And now that it’s working, it just doesn’t feel right.

As you slip into the elevator, pressing the button that will take you to the floor housing Stark’s workshop with a gloved hand, you have the distinct sensation of being watched. You send an uneasy glance around the elevator and are unable to detect any cameras, but you’re well aware that means nothing; there could be thermal scanners, pressure pads, or even something as simple as hidden cameras in the walls or ceiling. Stark is as sneaky as he is clever, and you’re the last one to underestimate him.

He is your hero, after all.

The elevator doesn’t make a sound as it reaches the workshop floor, nor as the doors open with a smooth glide, and it’s equal parts unnerving and impressive. You don’t waste time studying the elevator, though; you leave the elevator car, creeping down the hall until you come to a wall of glass.

All that’s between you and your goal now are a keypad and a shatterproof glass door.

You pull the hacking device you custom built and programmed from your belt and attach it to the keypad. Numbers scroll across the screen until, finally, the security code is displayed in blinking green.

You grin in satisfaction and press the appropriate numbers. The door opens.

You’re in.

You stalk into the darkened shop, padding across the floor without making a sound. You reach up and pull down a pair of homebrew infrared goggles.

Let’s see. If I was a super-genius, where would I keep a high-tech, flying suit of armour?

You see some display cases on the other end of the room -- you’re unsurprised to see that Stark preserves his old suits, considering how attached he seems to be to them -- and are preparing to search for the mechanism that will open the cases, but it’s not necessary; there’s a half-assembled suit laid out on one of the work benches, as though its owner left in the middle of performing repairs on it.

Jackpot! You hadn’t dared hope you would get this lucky; the newest model of the Iron Man suit, just laying there in the open, completely unguarded? This is better than anything you could’ve dreamed of!

You approach the workbench, stepping over and around other half-complete projects that Stark has left scattered around. There are what you assume to be deactivated automated assistants, too, arm-like structures with claw shaped grasping appendages on the ends.

Under different circumstances, you would love to stick around and see what this place looks like when it’s up and running at full capacity. You bet it’s amazing.

You shake those thoughts from your head. Focus on the task at hand, you remind yourself. Your window is incredibly small.

You carefully open the faceplate of the helmet and search for a data upload terminal. Once you’ve found it, you pull your scanner from your belt and attach it to the terminal, activating it. Your heart flutters giddily. You’re so close.

And then, a voice says, “Right, I think I’ve let this go a little too far. JARVIS, lights.”

The lights slowly start to come up. You hastily remove your goggles and turn to find none other than Tony Stark standing at the far end of the room.

He smiles and waves shortly. “Hi. I’d introduce myself, but,” he swirls his finger in a circle, “seeing as we’re here, I’m pretty sure it’s not necessary.”

You’re completely dumbfounded. You have no idea what to do, what to say -- how do you explain yourself?

You came up with a plan for every scenario, except for the one where you got caught.

“Uh,” you begin, “I… I don’t… I mean, I’m not-- It’s not--”

“You, on the other hand, have some serious explaining to do. You could start with who you are, for example, and why you’re in my house, and how in the hell you managed to build a bunch of shit that neutralised my security measures.” He points an accusatory finger at you. “You hacked me. Nobody does that, nobody has ever done that. How did you do that?”

You open and close your mouth, at a total loss for words. “W-Well, um, I… I just did?” It’s a terrible explanation and you know it. You kind of want to dissolve into the floor; this was not how this was supposed to go, not at all.

Stark looks incredulous. “You… just did. Huh. Okay. Well, I just thought I’d let you know I went along with this little charade because, if we’re being honest, I found the concept of someone smart enough to hack Stark Industries enticing. I figured I’d just wait and see where you were going with it. But, since you were just after the suit -- totally boring motivation, by the way, that’s been done like a thousand times by now, what is it, money or power? -- I’m gonna have to see you out now.” He pulls out a wafer-thin, see through card and taps on it. “Jay, let Happy know we have an interloper on sublevel--”

“Wait!” You cry out. “Wait, please don’t kick me out!”

He looks at you, quirking a brow. “And why should I not?”

You fidget awkwardly, feeling a little stupid in your thief getup. “I… I didn’t want the suit to sell it, or weaponise it, or whatever. I just wanted to see if I could… If I could make one better,” you admit, your face reddening.

Stark is silent for a moment, which you aren’t sure is a good thing. Then, he says, “Huh. Okay,” and the way he says ‘okay’ turns it into a four-syllable word. “So, you broke into my house, disabled all my security, and entered my private workshop without permission… because you were curious?”

You nod, a little embarrassed. “Yeah.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” he says, with a hint of a smile. “Not so sure about the cat burglar.”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” you retort.

“And you’re feeling satisfied with yourself, are you?”

You shrug, starting to relax as you settle into the rhythm of the banter. “I could be. Depends whether or not you’re planning to call the cops on me.”

The hint of smile turns into an outright grin. “And ruin this thing we’ve got goin’ on? Now, why in the world would I do that?”

You laugh. “...Does this mean I get to look at the suit after all?”

Stark makes a show of considering your request. “We can work up to it,” he says. “After you show me what you’re really capable of.”

You spend what must be hours down in the workshop -- Tony Stark’s workshop! -- shyly explaining how your devices work, and then you move upstairs to the living room and spread out schematics across the table, trying valiantly not to explode on the spot when the guy you’ve had a crush on since you were, like, ten tells you your craftsmanship and code are just about as good as anything he’s ever seen, which is really saying something.

You’re so focused on trying to seem like you don’t care that much about his approval that when he says, “So, hey, how about next week, we meet up somewhere for a little intellectual conversation over coffee?” you nearly miss it. (‘Nearly’ being the operative word, of course.)

“I… What?”

“Unless you don’t like coffee. We could do lunch,” he continues, and somehow, he almost seems as nervous as you were just a moment ago.

The idea of Tony Stark being nervous to ask you for coffee or lunch -- you, of all people -- is laughable, so much so that it sends all your nerves running for the hills.

“Yeah,” you say. “No, I mean, coffee’s fine. I love coffee.”

He nods. “Good. Good, I’ll see you then. Hopefully this time you won’t break into my house beforehand.”

You fluster immediately at that, stammering, and he waves it off.

“Kidding,” he says. “I let you get in, remember? You’re fun, you’re a good,” he waves his hand as if trying to summon the words from nowhere. “Conversationalist. You grok me.”

You nod.

He slaps his knees and clears his throat. “Welp,” he says, standing up, “it’s been fun, but as everyone in my life loves to remind me, I have a company to run, so as much as I would love to spend the rest of the day talking about fun stuff, I sorta can’t. Walk you to the door?”

“Sure.”

He sees you out, reminding you not to forget about your “little rendezvous next week, I’ll pick you up and take you someplace swanky, my treat.”

You don’t feel nervous about it at all. You just met your idol, and all you had to do was break into his house and try to steal the plans for his top-secret superhero suit.

You can’t wait to find out what he wants to talk about next week.

#marvel x reader #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction #marvel #iron man x reader #iron man reader insert #iron man #tony stark x reader #tony stark #writing #writing blog #reader insert blog #x reader blog #breaking and entering #burglary #cat burglar #swearing

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rosemaidenvixen · 3 years

Text

Both Sides of the Sky

Chapter 5: Calling

Ao3

The doors to the front entrance loomed ahead of them. Thick mahogany of solid build, richly carved by very skilled hands. It was clear whoever had first commissioned them must have paid a great deal. But as Claire stepped closer, she was able to notice the countless pockmarks and scars pitting the wood, how they had been so badly warped by the wind and rain that they no longer would hang quite straight.

Not a good harbinger for what lay beyond.

Keeping that thought, among others, to herself, Claire watched as the doors, warped wood catching ever so slightly in the frame, were pulled open. Revealing a grimm faced butler behind them who silently took the card from her father and ushered the three of them inside.

Without turning her head, it wouldn’t do to appear too curious, Claire glanced around at her surroundings. Avalon hall was massive, she had been able to see that much from the outside. But it soon became clear that the state of the front doors was not a unique feature.

Silk curtains that were faded and stained at the edges. Scuff Marks upon scuff marks on the floor from centuries of feet traipsing up and down the corridors. Tarnish creeping around the edges of the candlesticks, giving the silver a rotten appearance. And due to the building’s esteemed age, all the windows were small and far between, the dim light making the hallway feel claustrophobic.

The overall effect was that Avalon hall didn’t feel like a house where living people resided, rather more like an abandoned, decaying ruin from a bygone era that she and her parents were trespassing in.

Fighting very hard to suppress a shudder, Claire followed her parents deeper into the house.

It looked as though the rumors were true, this family may have a lofty and noble history, but they had fallen far indeed. Claire kept her gaze straight ahead and pointedly ignored the peeling wallpaper as they walked further in. Straight into debt by the looks of it.

The butler led them up the main stairs and down a hall on their right, to where someone was waiting for them, before swiftly turning and heading off to complete some other task. Claire had expected Strickler to greet them, as he had on her walks with Jim, but instead they were greeted by his uncle, the venerable Lord Merlin, who was so old Claire half expected him to have powder in his hair.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Master and Mistress Nuñez,” he politely shook hands with her father before gesturing for them to follow “My nephew is waiting for us in the parlor, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

As they walked he turned and looked Claire straight in the eye, flashing her a grin.

Startled, Claire quickly recovered and managed to return the smile with one of her own.

They’d only gone a short ways when Merlin stepped to the side, opening a door into a smaller small room.

“Please, after you,” the words were intended for all of them, but his gaze was once again locked on Claire. While she supposed most people would be flattered, Claire couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the attention, although why she couldn’t say.

Forcing down the cold fluttering in her belly, Claire followed her parents into the room, blinking at the sudden brightness within.

The curtains had been thrown open, filling the room with sunlight and allowing her to see that, mercifully, this space was in much better shape than the rest of the house. Immaculate blue and gold wallpaper, spotless china dishes and sparking silver on oak tables. Couches that looked comfortable and lived in, even if they were a little threadbare.

Claire let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Strickler was here, and so was Jim, right by his side, both of them standing by a small table holding several teacups filled with steaming brown liquid, two of which he handed over to her father and mother before picking one up himself “So glad you all could make it today, please take a seat. James and I are so happy to have you here,”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively “He was quite looking forward to this,”

All the adults in the room tittered at that while Claire blushed crimson, across the room she could see Jim’s face turn a similar hue.

Still flushing, she sank into a chair, everyone else following suit. The adults quickly fell into banal conversation concerning the weather and current events. Leaving Claire and James to stare at each other in awkward silence.

She wanted to talk to him. There were half a dozen questions perched on the tip of her tongue. Had he recovered from his tumble in the woods and fall in the river? Who was his mother and why did no one ever speak of her? Did the stone bridge still haunt his dreams the way it did hers?

But despite how much she burned for answers, Claire couldn’t bring herself to speak of those things, not in front of their parents.

It was too….private, personal; and the last thing she wanted was her parents pouncing on those thoughts and picking them apart piece by piece.

Of course there was a chance that Jim felt differently about his family, but the way he also kept his silence made Claire think not.

So here they were. Sitting there mute and bored to tears. Tuning out their families' blathering, Claire allowed her eyes to unfocus, gaze rolling around the room before landing on a sword hanging on the far wall. The blade was dull and the hilt simple, but it was clear that the sword’s true value was in its truly ancient age. She could easily imagine Strickler plucking it from foreign shores during one of his many expeditions.

Unfortunately by now their mutual silence had been noticed.

“James, why don’t you show the young Miss Nuñez our collection,” Claire jolted slightly upon hearing Strickler mention her name “I’m sure she’d find it fascinating,”

James stood from his chair and extend a hand towards her, flashing a smile that was almost convincing “Of course,”

Claire lifted herself up and returned his smile “That sounds delightful,” at least it would be better than sitting in silence. She allowed Jim to lay a hand over her forearm and lead her to the other side of the room.

“This sword is a viking artefact, along with that shield,” he inclined his head to the right “The vase and teapot are from the far east,”

“Very impressive…” Claire nodded along politely, when her attention was captured by a large painting hanging near the corner, a woman wrapped in silver gossamer reclining in a pond. A simple image, but captured in breathtaking detail “What about the painting, right next to the shield?”

“I...don’t know,” Jim glanced back towards the seated adults.

“Nothing much interesting about that one I’m afraid,” Strickler said with a shake of his head “Merely a gift from an old acquaintance,”

Claire’s eyes darted over the ripples and waves captured in shades of blue paint “It’s very lovely, is it an Undine?”

Strickler let out a chuckle, that sounded more than a little patronizing “A naiad actually,”

Despite her best efforts, Claire felt herself flushing at his thinly veiled condescension “What’s the difference?”

“Naiads live exclusively in fresh water whereas Undines aren’t bound to any one form of water. Oceanids live in open seas and nereids live along saltwater shores,”

For a moment the entire room was silent as everyone turned and stared at Jim. He flushed, clearly feeling the weight of their gazes.

Claire felt a grin, the first entirely genuine one of the day, spreading over her face “I didn’t know you were so well versed in mythology,”

“I...um....” Jim glanced over at his father and uncle for help, face a deep red.

Merlin let out a loud laugh, giving his knee a hearty slap “My dear nephew you’re too shy,” he glanced towards her parents “James has always had an avid interest in mythology, we had trouble getting him to put the books down,”

Jim, clearly embarrassed, was blushing a bright scarlet, and couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting under the attention. Meanwhile, even while she sympathized with the scrutiny, Claire was absolutely brimming with delight. Finally something that she and Jim could talk about, at least while they were in mixed company.

Still chortling, Merlin got to his feet “How about I show you two youngsters the library,” he glanced towards her parents “With Master and Mistress Nuñezs’ permission of course,”

Moving so subtly Claire was sure that she was the only one who saw, Ophelia and Javier shared a sly look with each other before turning towards him “We think that sounds delightful,” Javier said, both him and Ophelia positively beaming.

“What do you think of the classical myths?”

“They form the bedrock of literature as we know it and have persevered to the modern age due to their highly advanced themes and ideas,”

Jim’s gaze briefly flickered toward Merlin, sitting in a leather chair in the corner of the library holding a book whose pages he hadn’t turned for nearly an hour, the older man giving him an almost imperceptible nod. Claire pretended not to notice.

She thumbed through the thick book on the table in front of them “One of my favorites is the myth of Tantalus. He tried to trick the gods by feeding them his own son, but they weren’t fooled. They restored his son to life and condemned him to the underworld, with food and water forever just beyond his reach,”

“Oh yes,” he nodded “That is a classic, did you know that’s where the word tantalize comes from?”

Claire did, but she smiled and nodded as if she didn’t, keenly aware of Merlin’s eyes on the two of them.

Like the rest of Avalon hall, the library was old to the point of being ancient, but rather in a cosy sort of way. Mahogany shelves and angled windows giving the room a feeling of warmth. Walls completely lined with books from end to end, supplemented by the occasional freestanding shelf. Most impressive was the collection itself, the largest collection of books Claire had ever seen in her fifteen years. Some published as recently as a year ago, some centuries old; all filling the room with the sweet scents of paper and leather.

At first she’d been excited to discuss literature and folklore with Jim. Both of which were things she very much enjoyed, and hoped that they would be able to build upon a mutual interest. But what Claire hadn’t accounted for was Merlin hovering and ever so subtly correcting Jim when he strayed from what he deemed to be the proper responses. Most of which Claire already knew from her own studies. Making the entire conversation feel dull and rehearsed. Exchanging repetitive answers may be better than silence, but not by much.

Maybe if they wandered off the beaten path a little she could get Jim to tell her his own opinion and not the one his uncle approved of. There was a copy of Bluebeard just across from her, but that didn’t feel quite appropriate right now. She reached over to the far end of the table and pulled a new book with a dusty blue cover towards them “Have you read the Poetic Edda?”

“Yes I have,”

She waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t.

“Thrymskvida is my favorite portion, what do you think of it?”

“Truly a classic piece of Norse myth, although there is debate on whether its origins are Christian or Pagan,”

Well this clearly wasn’t working, time for a different approach.

“What is your favorite Arthurian legend?” she said abruptly, setting the blue book to the side without preamble.

Jim started, clearly caught off guard. He stammered for a few seconds before coming up with an answer “Oh, uh...Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,”

A solid classic, one that she could easily see Lords Strickler and Merlin lecturing him on how it was the best.

“That’s a good one, although I’ve always thought Gawain got away pretty easily considering he broke his word,”

Jim’s amiable expression slipped, sliding into a soft frown “Gawain did keep the scarf the lady gave him, but he could have easily given it to the lord after he let the green knight chop off his head. He wouldn’t have been breaking his word, just stretching it,”

Claire paused, mulling over his words “I suppose that’s true, but Gawain gave his word to give the lord whatever he gained during the day once he got home, not whenever he felt like it. He broke his word, and for that he deserves to be punished,”

“But--”

From the corner of the room Merlin rustled the papers of the book in his lap just loudly enough that it was clearly intentional. Jim shut his jaw with a click.

Claire had to bite her lip, quite hard in fact, to keep from groaning out loud. Just when their conversation was finally starting to get interesting, apparently disagreeing with her trumped what his uncle considered ‘correct’ as far as polite discussion went.

But what was the point of having a conversation if the other person agreed with whatever she said?

Claire had entertained the company of more than a few boys who had agreed with everything she said. Quite frankly she would sooner jump in the river again.

Time for another subject change “My favorite is the Quest for the White Hart,”

Jim nodded slowly, cowed back into meekness by his uncle’s interference “That is a really good one,”

“I enjoyed Pellinore’s quest for Nimue the most, especially at the end when he ends up cursing himself by not helping his daughter and the knight,”

“Really? I always thought that was pretty grim, he was told to let nothing distract him from his quest, he was only following instructions,”

“Doesn’t matter, he could have helped them but he didn’t,”

Jim paused for a bit “Wouldn’t that parallel Gawain’s story then? It’s not about what would be considered fair, it’s about keeping your word,”

Claire felt a smile tugging on her lips, very clever, it looked as though they could have a half decent discussion after all “I guess you have me there,” she pulled the green leather bound tome closer “But while we’re discussing the Green knight, you know how the old woman was really--”

The clock against the wall abruptly started to chime, signaling Merlin to sit up from his chair with a creak “I’m afraid our time together today must come to an end, feel free to keep the book Miss Nuñez, young James can collect it at a later time,”

And by that he was surely referring to when he and Strickler would come to their house with Jim to visit her in one weeks time. Which she knew her parents were no doubt arranging at this moment.

But still, she was disappointed that her time with Jim, however awkward and supervised, was coming to an end...which was not something Claire was accustomed to feeling .

She swallowed the confusing knot of emotion as the two of them followed Merlin out the library and back down towards the parlor, having to force the words out past it “Thank you, I will be sure to keep them in good condition,”

Claire thought that she and Jim would be able to get to know each other better when they weren’t slopping through the wilderness, but as it turned out their families' supervision wasn’t much of an improvement.

And unlike any of the other boys her parents had set her up with Claire wanted to know Jim better. He was genuinely sincere, and while Jim played the role of a nobleman well enough, Claire could sense something more beneath the surface. Like watching the surface of the sea and seeing the shadow of a hidden beast moving deep within.

She eyed the back of his head as they headed down through the gloomy hall.

If Claire wanted to get to know Jim, the real Jim, then she was going to have to get a little more creative.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #fanfic #both sides of the sky #rmvwrites #claire nuñez #ophelia nuñez #javier nuñez #merlin #walter strickler #jim lake jr #Regency AU

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laequiem · 4 years

Text

She kills my self control - Chapter 10

/ Includes dialogue from The Cruel Prince Chapter 25-26.

cw: unhealthy coping mechanisms (alcohol, sex); physical abuse; nsfw

read on ao3 • previous chapter • next chapter • all chapters

Chapter 10. You can never run from trouble

I knew Jude’s interrogation would not be a great time for me. What I was not expecting, however, was how absolutely terrified I was. She is scary, and I was so discomposed that I told her so. Even without the weapon, I probably would have told her anything she asked. The questions about Locke and Valerian were fine, but things escalated quickly. Everything started going downhill when she asked about a paper she found with her name written all over it. Questions about Nicasia and my feelings for her - as if I wasn’t being vulnerable enough already.

Soon enough, Jude asks the worst question of all.

“Just tell me why you hate me. Once and for all.”

I cannot seem to keep still, my fingers follow the grooves of Dain’s desk.

“You really want honesty?” I ask her, not that I have much of a choice than to tell the truth. I hope she will just take her question back.

“I am the one with the crossbow, not shooting you because you promised me answers. What do you think?”

“Very well,” it’s all I can do not to roll my eyes at the continuous threats, “I hate you because your father loves you even though you’re a human brat born to his unfaithful wife, while mine never cared for me, though I am a prince of Faerie. I hate you because you don’t have a brother who beats you. And I hate you because Locke used you and your sister to make Nicasia cry after he stole her from me. Besides which, after the tournament, Balekin never failed to throw you in my face as the mortal who could best me.”

I hold her stare. Her face betrays nothing, it’s as if she is not in the least surprised about any of it.

“Is that all? Because it’s ridiculous. You can’t be jealous of me. You don’t have to live at the sufferance of the same person who murdered your parents. You don’t have to stay angry because if you don’t, there’s a bottomless well of fear ready to open up under you.”

This is the Jude I am the most familiar with, angry, defiant and mind-numbingly clueless. Technically, I now live with the person who murdered my father. Is she so blind as to not see how scared I am, this very moment? How angry I am, at Madoc, at Balekin, at myself?

“Oh, really?” I sneer, “I don’t know about being angry? I don’t know about being afraid? You’re not the one bargaining for your life.”

“That’s really why you hate me? Only that? There’s no better reason?”

I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. To expose my weakness, to Jude of all people, terrifies me.

“Well?” she impatiently lifts the crossbow, “Tell me!”

“Most of all,” I close my eyes, unable to look at her as I reveal my biggest, dirtiest secret, “I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.”

You would think that telling her would lift the weight off my shoulders. It does not—it feels like I am a target, and the bullseye just got larger, easier to hit.

She does not answer. I try to cover my face with my hand to hide my shame.

“Maybe you should shoot me after all.”

“You’re playing me,” she finally replies.

I do not look at her. I can’t. I hear her put the crossbow down on the table, I guess she does not want to give me a quick death. My suspicions are confirmed when Jude puts the point of a knife to my chin and lifts my head to look at her. At first, I try to look away, but I eventually meet her eyes. I know she can read me like an open book, the shame, the want, the fear, and she relishes in it. I think of begging her for mercy, to make it quick. She leans towards me and I have never in my life wanted to sink in the floor as much as I do now. My eyes are wide with confusion. As I smell her iron and wraithberry scent, I am reminded of the realization I had long ago: she is my forbidden fruit. I unconsciously part my lips, ready to bite in and seal my fate.

“You really do want me,” my torturer croons, “and you hate it.”

She shifts the blade to put the sharp edge against my neck. I stay still. She has already humiliated me enough, I will greet death with my chin held high.

I wait for the killing blow, but it does not come. Instead, Jude closes the distance between us and kisses me.

I thought my imagination was grand, yet I was not prepared for this. How her soft lips feel against mine, how little I notice her inexperience. I stifle a moan and close my eyes, willing myself to enjoy what I am now convinced to be my last few breaths.

I carefully slide my hands up her arms. I can feel her strong muscles under the soft skin of her biceps, the small bumps rising from her skin following my touch.

One of my hands snakes down to her waist and pulls her closer, on top of me, while the other tangles in her hair.

Her lips part and I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Our teeth and tongues clash in a desperate dance and I get my first taste of poison. A rational man would stop then, her warning signal enough to keep him away. But a starved man would consider eating poisonous food, if not only to die with the comfort of a full stomach.

Clank. I pull away, letting go of her. I had completely forgotten about the knife at my throat and now it's lying on the table. Is she not going to kill me? I laugh awkwardly.

“Is that what you imagined?”

I imagined a lot of things, but never her putting a knife to my throat.

“No."

“Tell me," she orders.

I shake my head.

“Unless you’re really going to stab me, I think I won’t. And I might not tell you even if you were going to stab me.”

Jude gets on Dain’s desk. It looks like she’s trying not to smile. It angers me that she thinks something about this is funny, when I have been nothing but honest and unguarded.

“I am going to make a proposal," I tell her, "I don’t want to put the crown on Balekin’s head just to lose mine. Ask whatever you want for yourself, for the court of shadows, but ask something for me. Get him to give me lands far from here. Tell him I will be gloriously irresponsible, far from his side. He never needs to think of me again. He can sire some brat to be his heir and pass the High Crown to it. Or perhaps it will slit his throat, a new family tradition. I care not.”

“Get up.”

“So you’re not worried I’m going to run for it?”

I get up and stretch my legs.

“After our kiss, I am such a fool over you that I can hardly contain myself," she drawls and I feel my heart twist in my chest, "All I want to do is nice things that make you happy. Sure, I’ll make whatever bargain you want, so long as you kiss me again. Go ahead and run. I definitely won’t shoot you in the back.”

I thought she was sincere at first, but I should have known better. Nothing true ever comes out of her lying mouth. I do not know what to say, so I just say my truth.

“Hearing you lie outright is a bit disconcerting.”

“Then let me tell you the truth. You’re not going to run because you’ve got nowhere to go.”

Jude leaves the room, and I go back to the table where I was playing cards earlier. I pick up the deck of cards and start shuffling mindlessly, keeping my eyes on her as she leaves the hideout.

She is right. I have nowhere to go. I have no home, only a room in my tormenter's mansion. Even as I picture a new life far from the palace, it does not feel like home. I try to imagine a palace all for myself, where I throw parties and drink until the sun rises, where I am surrounded by females who worship me, where people laugh at my jokes and admire me. It feels as lonely as my life here.

I close my eyes and try to focus on home.

The mansion disappears. Instead, I lay in a spacious bed, in a luxuriously decorated room. I know it to be my room, even if I have never seen this room in my life. On my right, I see an open closet filled with extravagant clothes, clearly mine. As I look to the left, I realize I am not alone in this room.

Jude is sitting by the window, moonlight casting light on the dagger she is polishing.

I throw the deck or cards on the desk and get up with a groan. I know the spies are staring, but I don't care. I storm back to Dain's office and sit on the chair I had been tied to. Jude took her knife and crossbow back, but the dent the knife made in the table is still there. I run my fingers over it.

The kiss has completely ruined me.

I want to taste her again, taste every inch of her skin. I want to know if she tastes different than faeries.

I want her mouth on me, her nails digging in my back making new scars over the old ones.

I want her to keep that dagger to my throat and use me until she grows bored of me.

I want her hands wrapped around my throat.

I want her to deny me until I beg for release.

I am thoroughly depraved.

The moment she put that knife to my throat, I knew that what I felt for her was not fear. A little bit of fear, sure, but it was different from what I felt when Balekin removed his belt.

It wasn't mere hate, either. Up until now, my fantasies of Jude were always ones where I had the power, putting her down for the way she humiliated me time and time again.

Our kind does not love the way yours do, Locke had told Taryn.

He was wrong.

What I thought was mere lust-fueled infatuation is in fact something much, much more dangerous.

I am in love with Jude Duarte.

#tfota #the folk of the air #cardan #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #jurdan #judecardan #the cruel prince #fanfic #smut #angst

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lifeofroos · 3 years

Text

Part 57. It’s reflection time.

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, they evaluate Nico’s growth from the last year. The story is on AO3 and FanFiction.net! And also in Tumblr tags like Dionysus, Nico di Angelo, therapy etc.

This Might Be Crazy: Chapter 57: Persephone’s Deadly Tasty Orange Juice

It was eight P.M. when we walked into Denny’s. Mary looked up. ‘I’m sorry, but I’ll be leaving soon.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘Because you should go hug Ernest. And study. How is he doing? And how is it going?’

‘It is still almost like we are blessed,’ she answered, with a sarcastic look to Dionysus, ‘and my studies are going well. If it goes on like this, I can stop working in this place in May or early june.’

‘Yay! Or, well, yay…’

‘I get what you mean. It is pretty yay.’ She winked and put a parcel on the counter, with a golden bow around it. ‘I heard it is your birthday tomorrow?’

‘I mean… yes!’

‘My sources told me.’

I looked over my shoulder. Dionysus shrugged and I snickered. ‘Ah, yes. Sources. Do you also know how these sources found out?’

‘General divinity.’ She tapped the gift. ‘Are you going to open it?’

Careful not to tear the paper, I opened it, even though it was pretty clear it was a book. At least, I thought so until I saw it was actually a box of chocolates shaped like a book.

‘How ingenious.’

‘Absolutely, right? And the chocolates have the shape of skulls.’

‘It’s a gift that keeps on giving.’ I looked up at Mary and smiled. ‘Thanks, Mary. Thanks a lot.’

She smiled. ‘Do you want orange juice? I was going to make some.’

Of course I wanted orange Juice, even when I saw that it was made from Persephone’s sacred oranges. I decided not to ask how Mary got her hands on a full box of them.

Dionysus and I sat down in our regular spot. ‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘Why did I have to come?’

‘Tomorrow is your birthday. That means it has almost been a year that you first started therapy.’

What. ‘Really?’

‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘I thought we should evaluate what was discussed.’

‘A lot.’ A god, goddang lot.

‘A whole lot.’

‘You don’t say.’

‘I did.’

I sighed, while Mary placed two glasses of orange juice on our table. ‘Bon appetit.’ She smiled and walked back to the counter, presumably to continue packing her stuff so she could go home after we left.

Dionysus turned back to me, while I took a sip of my orange juice. ‘Anyway. Do you think therapy has helped you?’

I nodded, without hesitation. ‘Yes. It has helped me. I feel more…’ my voice trailed off. ‘I really do, it really has, but if I say it, I might jinx it.’

Dionysus slowly nodded. ‘I can promise that that will not happen, but it is okay. You don’t have to say it. That is something a lot of people feel.’

I nodded, before taking a deep breath. ‘I feel better,’ I said then, which made Dionysus smile. ‘All the really big issues that were blocking my mind have been talked about. They are not completely gone, but my brain feels lighter. I learned how to give everything a place in my life.’ I took a pause to take a sip of orange juice. ‘Yet, now I do have more room to overthink other things, mostly other people. Like with May.’ I shrugged.

Dionysus slowly nodded. ‘That sounds plausible.’

‘Yes. It does cause a lot of stress when I am constantly thinking of random people.’ I took a sip, until I realised what he probably wanted me to say. ‘I think that might need to be the next step. Manage the stress and the impulsive thoughts now that the big trauma is out of the way.’

‘Indeed, but you must be cautious. It is very possible that some old fears come back.’

‘Yes. Although, a lot of the fear disappeared after I faced the Elder Gods.’

‘That doesn’t mean it can’t come back. Keep looking out for yourself, okay? The really nasty voices won’t come back, but the nightmares might.’

I nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘To come back to what you said before: you mean that you have a lot more room in your head to overthink, mostly about other people.’

I took a sip of my orange juice. ‘Yes. I hope that issue doesn’t become bigger, because as said before, it causes stress.’

‘Not if we treat you properly and not as long as the peaceful Elder Gods protect your mind. However, be cautious. We need to focus on finding a way to help you deal with the new thoughts you described. Both so that you don’t impulsively decide to take a trip and so that you aren’t constantly pestered by fear.’

I thought back to what happened with May. It reminded me of the trogs, who I also impulsively followed. ‘I agree.’

‘Than that can be our starting point for next sessions. You worked through the raw fears, now we need to work on the rough edges so that you can go on with your life without having as much therapy as you do now.’

I nodded. This all sounded very smart, or something. ‘Yes. Do we have a plan, then?’

He nodded. ‘I think we do. And, Nico, I really am proud of you for the progress you made this last year. You talked about a lot, dealt with a lot, found ways to give something a place. You are currently in a way healthier mindset than when you started.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Now you just need to learn how to live your life.’

‘Live my life. That’s a good one.’

He nodded. ‘Yet, right now there is only one proper plan.’

‘Is it, by any chance, sleep?’

‘It is. Drink up that juice, then we’ll get you home.’

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

The next morning, I was suddenly sixteen. Will, who was still asleep, had his arms wrapped around me.

I turned my head to look at the clock on my nightstand and noticed that there were some tiny objects laying next to it. Softly, I pushed Will away from me a little, so that I could see what it was. There were a few coins, a card, a shiny packet and a note. Happy birthday, to another year of not losing your head, -D, was all the note read. Clearly Dionysus.

The shiny pack was a Mythomagic booster pack, from a Dionysian expansion set. Very funny. There were ten regular drachmas and two black ones, to be used in the Underworld. I narrowed my eyes, wondering if this man was implying something by giving me two underworld coins. Oh, what the heck, probably not.

The card was difficult to read without lamplight, until I had deciphered my own name on top of the card. ‘Nico di Angelo, Ghost king.’ I gasped. This was a card, an official card even, of myself. I sat up and snapped the light on to take a better look.

‘Urgh... Nico?’ Will asked sleepily. ‘What are you…’

‘Will, look…’ I pointed at the card. He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my shoulder.

‘Hm? Oh… is that a mythomagic card with you on it?’

‘It is an official mythomagic card with me on it,’ I corrected him. ‘Not that I play that anymore…’

‘You don’t have to lie to me.’ He kissed my neck. I put the card down.

‘No, I don’t,’ I said, while I kissed him back. On the mouth this time.

A/N: I legit once found a box of chocolates in the shape of a book.

Okay boys, if you write a world where magic is real, there should be a mechanic that protects you against mental illness. I think the Elder Gods will be able to do that.

Final exams have started which means I am officially dead now.

Next chapter will be Nico celebrating his birthday with the Jacksons.

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xofanfics · 4 years

Text

Until Tomorrow

Genre: angst, fluff, dad!Minghao, husband!Minghao

Pairing: Reader x Minghao

Word Count: 4.2k

*REQUESTED*

Summary: When Minghao tells his parents his plans of marrying you, his mother rejects it and his father says nothing.

When he laid his eyes on the ring, he was happier than ever. It was perfect for you and he knew you’d love it. He smiled widely as he took out his credit card and paid for it. He carried it in the blue velvet box as he went home, carrying his hopes, dreams, and his future in his pocket.

On his way there, he imagined the proposal and what it would be like. He pictured how wide your smile would be and how you’d start tearing up because you were so happy that you couldn’t believe that it was happening. He’d been with you for the past two years and he couldn’t imagine a life without you. You’d mentioned marriage here and there and the whole time he was making mental notes of all the small details you mentioned: the ring, the dress, and so on. Minghao had been saving a lot of money and he was almost ready to give you a proposal you’d never forget.

He walked into the house, his nose filled with the smell of his mom’s cooking. “I’m home,” he said, taking off his shoes and placing them neatly on the mat.

“Dinner is almost ready,” she called upon hearing the sound of her son’s voice. “Can you set the table?”

He nodded. “Sure.” He took the small bowls from the cabinet, spooning rice from the rice cooker. As he did, his father came into the room and sat at the table. “Hi, Dad.”

“How was your day?”

“Good. I had a few photoshoots,” he said.

His father nodded. Like most parents, his didn’t exactly approve of his decision to be a photographer. They’d wanted him to be like everyone else and get a degree in finance or business but it wasn’t in him to do that sort of thing. He was creative; he wanted to create things. In high school, he spent his time on the dance team and taking pictures with the camera his mother got him for his birthday. Instead of a business degree, he got one in photography and he’d never been happier. At first his parents wondered how he’d make money like that but he was doing just fine. He’d proved them wrong but they still made snide remarks about his choice of career here and there.

In a moment, the three of you were seated and eating dinner at the table. Minghao cleared his throat. “I’m planning on proposing to Y/N.”

The room was silent. He wasn’t sure of what his father’s opinion on you was; he never seemed to have a problem with his dating you. His mother, however, never liked you. After a short silence his mother said, “Why?”

“Because I love her and because she treats me well.”

“Isn’t she still in school? Why has she been in school so much longer when you’re the same age? She’s not a hard worker and she doesn’t come from a good family. Her mother threw her away. Why should you marry someone like that?”

“She’s been paying for college herself! And she works part-time,” Minghao argued. “And so what if she doesn’t come from a good family? Why does growing up in a good family matter? She’s a good person and she’s smart, mom.”

To be honest, you were abandoned by your mother when you were three and you ended up in an orphanage. From what you told him, you had very vague memories of your mother. Just of her face, you’d said. You grew up in an orphanage and never got adopted due to the stigma of adoption in China. You had a hard life and you never really had a family. But none of that mattered to him because he wanted to become your family. He wanted to be your husband and father of your children, once you were ready to take that step.

“You should marry someone that comes from a good family. Your wife should come from a good family with a good background. Her mother was probably on drugs or something... ”

“Why should she be discriminated against because of choices her mother made? She’s a completely different person and she’s never once touched drugs.”

“How would you know?” his mother shouted across the table. “She’s probably taking drugs between work and school. That’s why she hasn’t graduated and she’ll never be a nurse like she says. She’ll end up just like trash!”

“Don’t you dare call her that!” Minghao yelled back. His mother had crossed a line. He was so angry he could explode. And what was worse is that his father just sat there, looking down at the table and saying absolutely nothing. He hated that his father didn’t even back him up or prevent his mother from saying such cruel things.

That night, Minghao packed his things and never looked back once. From that point on, he decided that he didn’t have a family. * Minghao felt his hand being tugged in the middle of the night and thought that he must be dreaming. But he felt the tug again, harder this time. His eyes slowly fluttered open and he found his daughter standing so close to his face that he jumped. When he realized that it was just his baby.

“Daddy?” she called in her small, sleepy voice.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he sat up with a yawn. “Yes, baby? Did you have a nightmare?”

She stood, holding her small teddy bear that he bought for her birthday a few months ago. Then she shook her head. “Can I have water?”

He looked at the bedside table next to the bed and, to his dismay, he didn’t find the glass of water he usually kept by the bed. He dragged himself out of bed and held his daughter’s hand as they walked into the kitchen. She waited next to the refrigerator patiently as he went into the refrigerator and poured water into her favorite purple cup. He stood next to her, handing her her cup. She said, “Thank you.”

While she took small sips from her cup, he poured himself a glass as well. They drank their water in silence together and, when Biyu was finished, she stood on her tiptoes to put the cup in the sink.

“All done?” asked Minghao, putting his cup in the sink, too.

Biyu nodded, holding onto her father’s hand again. “I’m sleepy.”

“Let’s go to the bathroom first, okay?” The last thing he needed was an accident as the night went on. He waited for her in the bathroom as she sat on the toilet and helped her clean up when she was done. After she washed her hands, Minghao had started toward her room expecting her to be behind him but, apparently, Biyu had other plans.

“Biyu, where are you going?”

She walked in the opposite direction and into her bedroom and into the room her parents slept in. She crawled into the bed next to you and made herself comfortable under the blanket. She patted the bed, motioning for Minghao to get in the bed beside her. He smiled to himself and lay down next to her.

With all the movement in the bed, you rolled over and opened your eyes to find your daughter between you and your husband. You smiled. “You couldn’t sleep?”

Biyu shook her head. “Wanna sleep with mommy and daddy.”

Minghao kissed Biyu’s cheek before kissing your lips. The three of you cuddled. Biyu, of course, snuggled closest to her dad and you fell asleep again, with Minghao’s fingers intertwined with yours. Small moments like this, made being a father worth more than a million words. * The week came and went. It was a Friday afternoon and you ended up getting off of work a little early. You went inside of Biyu’s school to pick her up. The teachers were a bit surprised to see you an hour early but started preparing Biyu to go home. Her head popped up from the table and over to the door. Her face lit up upon seeing you and ran over despite her teacher’s call to clean up. You laughed as Biyu ran into your arms.

You kneeled down to meet her at eye level. Her eyes glimmered with excitement and joy, bringing a smile to her face. “Biyu, you have to clean up first. Listen to your teacher so we can go to the supermarket and make something yummy for dinner.”

With a pout, Biyu quickly cleaned up her mess and got her coat. She bid her friends and teachers goodbye before leaving in your hand.

“Where’s daddy?” she asked, as you waited at the bus stop.

“He’s working,” you answered. “We’ll see him at home, okay?” Your husband had a photoshoot that was running a bit later than he anticipated. Biyu frowned, a bit disappointed to find that her dad wasn’t going to be joining you at the supermarket.

It was Minghao’s birthday and you were planning on making dinner. You’d made dumplings the previous night and froze them so that they’d be ready for today. You planned on making that and some stir fry.

The trip to the supermarket was quick; You got the things you needed while pushing your four year old in the shopping cart. To your surprise, she didn’t complain too much after she reached her two snack limit. Biyu was sometimes a picky eater but she loved snacks, so much that sometimes you had to hide them where she couldn’t reach or wouldn’t find them. For four years old, she could be a little sneaky. * You watched Biyu color at the coffee table while you cooked. She’d looked a little like you when she was first born but something happened and she ended up looking mostly like Minghao. While the dumplings boiled in the pot on the stove, you plopped down next to your daughter. You said, “What are you drawing?”

“I’m drawing me and daddy,” she said.

“What about me? I’m not in the picture,” you said, laughing.

“Nope,” she said. “Only me and daddy!”

She continued coloring and you pat her head. You carried her for nine months, pushed her out, and nursed her and all but she was still a daddy’s girl. You chuckled to yourself.

And, right on time, Minghao walked through the door. Biyu’s eyes lit up and your child scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping over them in the process. She shouted, “Daddy!”

He’d barely had a chance to take his coat off before he was tackled by his daughter. He scooped her up in his arms. “I’m back! Sorry I’m late, my pretty girl.” You came over to him and he planted a kiss on your lips. “Hey baby.” He sniffed the air. “Wow, it smells so good.”

“Mommy made dumplings!” she said as the timer went off.

You smiled and headed into the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready, babe.”

He smiled and put Biyu down. “Let’s help mommy set the table, okay?”

Biyu said, “I made you a present,” and ran over the coffee table. She showed him the picture she’d drawn and colored. “It’s me and you.”

Minghao kneeled down next to her and admired the picture. “It’s so pretty. Thank you. What about mommy? Are you gonna draw mommy too?”

As you sat the dishes on the table, you said, “She basically said I couldn’t be in it.” Biyu laughed loudly and her dad joined in her laughter. “Come on silly, let’s eat.”

Minghao sat Biyu down at the table and put his phone down. “I wanna show you some of the shots I took today. I shot engagement photos as the sun was setting.” As he went to go get his camera from his backpack, his phone started vibrating on the table.

You glanced at it and saw that it was an unknown number. “Your phone’s ringing.”

He continued digging through his bag for the camera. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know. The number isn’t saved.”

By the time he got to the table, the phone had stopped ringing. With raised eyebrows, he picked up the phone and put the camera down with his other hand. “I don’t know this number.” He cleared his throat and sat down across from you.

Part of you thought it was a little strange that he didn’t answer and that he wasn’t at least curious about the unknown number. The insecure part of your brain was racked with thoughts of it possibly being another woman calling your husband’s phone. But you shook that thought away. Minghao loved you and you had no reason to question it.

The three of you started eating and the phone started vibrating on the table again. Minghao reached over and silenced the phone before he returned to the dumplings. “Wow,” he said, smiling at you. “It’s delicious. When did you learn how to make such good dumplings?”

“The internet,” you said, laughing. “And Biyu helped me mix everything together, right?”

She nodded and shoved a whole dumpling in her mouth. Minghao laughed. “Biyu, you shouldn’t stuff the whole thing in your mouth. You can get hurt like that.”

Biyu smirked, mouth full, and looked over at his phone which started vibrating again. “Your phone, daddy.”

Minghao sighed, annoyed that the stupid phone was interrupting his birthday dinner with his family. He picked up the phone and put it to his ear, fed up. “Hello?”

“Minghao, it’s your dad.” Minghao’s eyes widened and his mouth suddenly felt dry, to the point where he couldn’t find words to speak. “I know it’s been a long time but I got your phone number from your friend Tao. He came to the store last week…”

“Oh…”

“I don’t know how to say this but your mom isn’t doing well. She has heart disease and,” he said, clearing his throat, “she doesn’t have much time left…”

Minghao was shocked. He hadn’t heard from his parents in almost six years. When he left home, he left for good. He never looked back once. He stayed at a hotel for those next few days, unable to face you. When he felt himself falling into depression, he thought of you and pulled himself out of that hole before he fell in too deeply. He’d been losing sight of what was important to him, the reason he left home in the first place: you. That night, he took you out for dinner at your favorite restaurant and walked through a park after eating. He got on one knee and proposed to you, just the way he planned. The look on your face was priceless and you threw your arms around him, the impact almost knocking him over.

The two of you put together your money and started renting an apartment together. A few months later, you were married. And a couple months after that, you found out that you were pregnant with a baby girl. He’d never been happier. You and Biyu were his family and until now, it was all that mattered.

His heart dropped when his dad told him about his mother’s condition. Though he’d cut them out of his life, it still hurt. Even if she hurt him, she was his mother. No matter what, she was the person who gave birth to him and raised him. He loved his mother and they’d had no problems until that day. She’d always made unnecessary comments about you but she’d never been completely out of line like that day. He’d let it slide when his mother made comments about you still being in school and working part time. But she crossed the line that day and he wasn’t going to sit there and take it anymore.

“I’ll come tomorrow…” * Minghao was on a train to his hometown after not having spoken to his parents in over six years. To be honest, he felt a little nervous and a little guilty for ending things the way he did. But then he remembered how his mother treated him that day and the guilt melted away like ice on a hot day. You squeezed his hand, knowing that he was feeling a bit stressed out. He looked over at you and smiled.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

“Of course,” you said. “I’m here for you babe. I think that it’s good that your dad called. Maybe talking to your mom can give you some closure.” At this point, you knew what had happened and when he told you, it hurt. But if anything, it gave you the motivation to become a nurse just like you said. And you were. You were a nurse in the pediatrics department and a damn good one at that.

He nodded, looking down in his arms at his sleeping daughter. He let out a sigh and in a few minutes, the train had arrived. Biyu, not quite ready to walk on her own, was carried by Minghao. It had been so long since he’d been back to his hometown but he noticed the small changes around him as the three of them rode in a taxi to the hospital.

Minghao never thought about it but he never really discussed his parents with Biyu. He’d give her vague answers and tell her that they lived far away. As they walked inside the hospital, he mentally prepared himself. He gave her name at the front desk and the receptionist prompted him to go up to the eighth floor.

Minghao had been quiet and you knew that he was feeling a little stressed and anxious about all of this. He’d heard that his mother was dying. Whether he had bad feelings toward her or not, it was a stressful situation to be in. You sat Biyu in a seat in the waiting area. Minghao got on one knee, meeting her at eye level. She beamed at him and he smiled back at her. “I’m going to leave for a few minutes, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“You’re going to see your mommy, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. She’s not feeling so well.”

“Can I meet her?”

“Maybe if she’s feeling better.”

“Okay.”

“Wait here with mommy.”

You gave him a kiss before he left in search of his mother’s hospital room. He knocked on the door and went inside. He stood in the doorway for a moment. His mother had aged, from what he could see. Her face had more defined wrinkles and she had more grey hairs than he remembered. Minghao closed the door and sat on the chair across from the room. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say in his head a million times before coming but he couldn’t find the words anymore.

She cleared her throat. “I didn’t think you’d come.” An awkward silence hung in the air. He didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry for what I said back then...about Y/N.” He nodded, grateful for at least an apology and acknowledgement that she did something wrong. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I’ve spent this whole time thinking about it. When you left that day, I thought you’d come back. Days went by, then months, years…”

“I waited six years for an apology...and even now, it feels strange,” he said. “It hurt, mom. It hurt me so much to know that you weren’t supportive of me. You supported me through college even though I didn’t get a business degree. You bought me my first camera because you knew it would make me happy even though you wished I was doing something else instead. You knew I wanted to be independent and buy it myself but you bought it for me anyway and told me to put the money in my savings instead. So when I told you I wanted to marry Y/N, it made me upset because it was the first thing in my life you were so unsupportive of.”

“I know,” she said, looking down. “This doesn’t justify anything but I wanted the best for you. I tried to discourage you from being with her. I thought she lacked ambition and motivation. I didn’t think she’d finish school and—”

“She finished school a couple months later,” he said, interrupting her. “She graduated from nursing school and she became a pediatric nurse—she’s one of the best in her hospital.”

“Are you happy?” she asked.

He nodded. “Of course. We got married and life is good. We live in Shenzhen and I’m saving up to buy a photography studio to use for my shoots.”

The nervous expression on her face faded into a smile. “I’m glad.”

“There’s someone I want you to meet. I’ll be right back.” He left the room for a moment and headed toward the waiting area where he left his family. When he came around the corner, he saw you reading a book with Biyu. He walked toward you with a smile. You looked up, then Biyu.

You said, “Everything okay?”

Minghao nodded and held out his hand toward Biyu. “Do you wanna meet your grandma?” Biyu didn’t answer and got up to grab his hand. You gave him a nod and watched them disappear around the corner again.

Minghao pushed the door open and walked in, with Biyu clinging to him. His mother’s eyes lit up at the sight of her. She lifted her hand to wave. “Don’t be rude,” he said, looking down at her. “Say hi.”

“Hi,” Biyu said, in a low voice.

“What’s your name?”

“Biyu.”

“That’s pretty. Biyu means jasper, you know. It’s a pretty red stone.”

Biyu smiled and walked closer to the hospital bed. She looked up at her with big, curious eyes. “Are you sick?”

“A little bit,” his mother said, smiling. “But I think I’m starting to feel a little better.”

Biyu ended up taking over the conversation. She asked her grandma a bunch of questions about where she lives, what her house looks like, if she has pets, and about her grandpa. It was as if he wasn’t even there.

Biyu put her finger on her chin. “Do you know my mommy?”

She nodded and then turned to her son. “Is it okay if I talk to her?”

Minghao stood. “I’ll ask her if she’s okay with it.” He took out his phone to text you: She wants to talk to you. I think she wants to apologize to you.

You wrote back, Sure. Room 831A, right?

You never had a relationship with Minghao’s mom. He rarely talked about her when they were dating back then and eventually when he told you everything, you found out why. You were hurt, at first. But then Minghao reminded you that he didn’t care who didn’t approve or who liked it, that you were the person he wanted to be with no matter what. And that was enough for you. For the past six years, he didn’t talk much about his parents. It was always casual mentions like “My mom used to make tofu all the time when I was a kid” or “Biyu reminds me of my dad.” It was never more than that and now that you thought about it, he never really addressed those feelings.

You knocked on the door and Minghao opened it. Your eyes landed on your mother-in-law and Biyu who had been chatting away before you came in. She said, “Mommy, meet grandma.”

You smiled and Minghao came over to Biyu. “Let’s go see what snacks are in the vending machine, okay?” There was no reason for Minghao to feel nervous but he did. He didn’t know what his mother was going to say and he felt a little vulnerable not knowing. He would’ve stayed but Biyu was too young to understand and he didn’t want one of her final memories of her being something this heavy.

You sat down in the chair after her husband and daughter left. The first thing your mother in law said was, “I heard you’re a pediatric nurse now...Congratulations.”

To be honest, you didn’t feel any resentment toward her. Back then you felt a little weird when Minghao confessed everything but you didn’t hate her. You ended up doing well despite what she thought. And after that you began to care less and less about what people thought about you. You started to care less about the assumptions that people made. You were doing so well. You were living in a nice apartment, you had a husband and daughter that loved you, and you and Minghao were saving up money to buy an apartment and a photography studio.

“Thank you,” you said.

“I wanted to apologize to you directly,” she said. “I judged you before I got to know you and I’m sorry for not taking the time to know you first. I should’ve invited you for dinner and taught you how to make his favorite foods. As a parent I wanted the best for him but I wasn’t keeping his feelings in my thoughts.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You cleared your throat. “I don’t hate you. I never have. We didn’t have a chance to get to know each other better and maybe we can now. ”

“I don’t have much time left and I’d like to fill the rest of my life with good memories.”

“I’d like that.”

A few minutes later, Minghao and Biyu came back. Biyu was satisfied with her snacks and she sat on the hospital bed. She continued to ask a million questions and, eventually, Minghao’s dad came. The five of you crowded in the hospital room for hours. You talked, laughed, and got to know each other. Until the end, like his mother said, you’d fill your lives with good memories.

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