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mugensword · 2 years

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pride | naoya x f!reader (9.3k words)

Pairing - Naoya Zenin x f!reader.

Pride: belief that you are better or more important than other people.

You catch Naoya red-handed fucking a man in his appartments. You decide to make a deal with him in ordrer to buy your silence: he has to make you cum.

SMUT, oral sex (f & m receiving), fingering, pussy slapping, deepthroat, spit kink, spanking, slight choking, unsafe sex (pull out technique), gay sex in the beggining, internalized homophobia. | TW: coercion.

A/N: Thanks for your interest in this, and hopefully you'll like it!I listened to "Pire que la mort" by Ajar while writing this, which can be roughly translated to "I wish you worse than death" haha. I'd really like some feedback on this piece, as I had to change the plot multiple times, some parts might feel disjointed... I'm sorry about that. Also, sorry for the english; I could only beta-read myself mainly on the plot issues but grammar and syntax mistakes may be seen here and there...

The man under him moaned loudly, as Naoya thrusted balls deep inside him at a breath-taking rhythm. He didn’t know the man’s name as he fucked him, grabbing forcefully his asscheeks to bring them closer to his pelvis, grunting at the feeling of his cock being squeezed inside the other man’s ass. It felt delightful and very different from being buried inside a pussy — it was slightly tighter. But hearing men submit to the power of his large cock was as good as seeing women beg for it. He grabbed a fist full of the brown-haired-unknown man under him, to bring his ear closer to his face.

“How does it feel to be fucked by the future head of the Zenin clan, huh? Does my cock feel good inside your tight ass?” He asked, only to hear the whimpers of the man, babbling “yes” and “so good”, just as expected.

Naoya released the hair, violently hustling the man on the mattress, before grasping his waist as he picked up his pace. He watched his cock disappear into the man’s ass, drenched with lube, and he groaned at the sight. He felt so powerful, it was perhaps better than the sex in itself — he could fuck whoever he wanted, whenever he liked, because he was Naoya Zenin. The man curved his back again, feeling Naoya’s cock dive deeper than before into his ass, stimulating more and more his sweet spot. His hand went to his cock, achingly erected, tip drooling with precum.

“I’m so close, please, master Naoya—,” whimpered the man, stroking his dick at a great speed, while his eyes were wetting the pillow.

“I can’t hear you, stupid brat, who’s fucking you?” He asked between gritted teeth, never stopping his rough deep thrusts.

Naoya felt he was ascending heaven, hearing a man beg for his cock.

“You master Zenin!” Answered the man, crying with pleasure. Naoya groaned loudly, hearing his desired title used to refer to him.

Naoya increased the speed of his thrusts again, violently slapping one of the asscheeks of the man underneath him. That man was his toy for tonight, he could do whatever pleased him with his body. He didn’t know his name nor who he was in any way, he was just fucking a servant working at a wedding. He felt so bored by the ceremony, he needed to entertain himself the fastest way possible. As the man had been observing him like a pervert all the evening, Naoya figured he’d be delighted to be fucked by him.

“I can’t belive I’m fucking a commoner like you,” breathed Naoya. “Do you think you deserve my cum?”

“I don’t know, ah!— please, I’ll be honored to have my ass filled with your cum, master Naoya!” Squirmed the man, while the muscles in his ass pulsated around Naoya’s cock, gripping him like a vice.

“You’re right, you don’t deserve my cum,” breathed Naoya with slight disgust in his voice. Yet, he felt his balls start to tighten as he was close to his end, pleasure filling his body from the friction on his sex.

“Well well well, how unexpected of you, Naoya.”

Naoya froze instantly, hearing your feminine voice coming from the door yet his heart was still racing from the sex. You were there, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed on your chest, a mischievous smile on your lips.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He shouted, pushing away the man from his cock, watching you with terror and anger. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

You were delighted by the view of the oh so prideful Zenin fucking a random man. It was really unexpected of him, who had built for years his reputation as a womanizer, perfectly able to quote ‘breed every woman he wanted’ unquote. He wanted that place at the top of the Zenin hierarchy, like nothing else mattered more than being in this state of power in the little world of japanese jujutsu sorcerers. Who you thought was a bigot, already despising women and treating them as wombs to breed, was also paradoxically balls deep into a man, on the verge of an orgasm you just robbed him.

The crook of the Zenin clan, oily cock flushed and erected from fucking another man, never looked so pitiful. His jaw was tense as he looked at you, brows frowned with rage.

“Master…?” Whispered the unnamed man, witnessing your interaction, completely clueless.

“Get the fuck out of my sight, peasant! Don’t you dare say a word about this, or I will cut your throat.”

The man looked frightened at the words of Naoya as he rose from the mattress to grab his garments on the floor. Naoya was almost dressed (because why would he bother being naked when he just needed his cock to fuck a man) apart from his unzipped pants, which he closed to hide from your sight his now softening dick. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to recollect himself from this horrifying situation. The unnamed man dashed to the door, after he put back his slacks in a hurry and you stepped aside to enable him to run out of the room whispering a mocking “bye bye”.

You were a close friend of the bride, who married one of the members of the Zenin clan, of course you were invited to the wedding. Naoya knew you since you were teenagers and never particularly liked you. Mainly because you were a woman, moreover you were a woman who talked too much to his taste. You constantly had the word to piss him, to which he barked back to defend himself.

It bothered him that you had an immeasurable advantage on him as you saw him fuck a man, and Naoya, for once in his life, was anxious. His family would disinherit him and his life will lose all purpose if you ever opened your mouth about what you just witnessed. He couldn’t allow to become a commoner — he was a powerful sorcerer, from a high-born family. He could not accept that, not with his ambitions.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing here?” Repeated Naoya, replacing his fear with anger.

“Just passing by, I heard some moans, then your name, and boom: found you in a delicate position. Are you angry?”

You smiled devilishly at him. He spat on the ground, trying to gain back control on him not to strangle you on the spot. But it was going to be a drag, and either way he’d be suspected for the murder. “I’m just surprised,” he lied.

“So, Naoya, you like men too?” You purred, closing the door behind you to walk closer to him. “Love who you love, I hope you find happiness in it. I root for your coming out.”

He fisted his hands hard. You were making fun of him and you loved every second of it. He could never despise someone more than you at this moment.

“I don’t like men,” he declared between gritted teeth.

You laughed at the blatant lie. “Oh, then I must have a deficient sight because I’m almost sure that I saw you fuck a man from behind almost one minute ago. It was borderline pornographic.”

“It’s not like that. I fuck men, but I don’t like them. There’s a difference. I enjoy fucking women more.”

The poor Naoya Zenin, usurper of the Zenin clan, was unaware of his sexual preferences and had the audacity of being homophobic. You sighed, sadly amused at his intolerance for almost anything. At first it was women, then homosexuals, how much was he hurt or twisted to have so much hate over things he couldn’t control? You didn’t want to understand why he fucked boys, even if he was in denial. You thought his obsession for power and his toxic pride had gotten overly high in his little misogynistic brain that he couldn’t lower himself to fuck a woman anymore, or perhaps all the high-born woman he’d slept with avoided him so there were only men left. You almost felt pity for him.

“Yeah, right. But what would your family think of all this? Would they let you become the head of the family if they knew you fucked—”

“I could fuck a woman in front of my whole family to prove myself worthy of becoming the head of the clan. You’ve got nothing against me,” he told you, convincing himself at the same time.

You clicked your tongue, attention grasped by his statement. “Nothing, really?” You teased, sitting onto the bed, at a reasonable distance from him. You saw him clench his hands, overwhelmed by your menacing presence, troubling his little personal space and making him in danger for his perfectly planned life. He gulped.

“Yes,” he reluctantly answered.

“Alright, I believe you. You are definitely the concupiscent type even in front of your family. However I doubt you can make a woman come.”

You were fully aware of challenging him. You needed to shatter his pride.

“Do you really think that?”

You nodded. “Yes. I even think all the women you fucked never came back because you only thought of them as cocksleeves and only cared about your little cock being sucked dry.”

Although Naoya was hotheaded, he used the little lucidity he had left not to choke you to death. Instead, he thought this might be your way to make him react. He sighed dramatically, rising to his feet. You felt his regain of confidence as he spoke:

“Then that’s a shame I could never prove to you how wrong you are,” he eyed you from the corner of an eye, gauging your reaction.

For some reason, this made you snap a little. You raised an eyebrow, showing your sudden interest in what he (apparently) couldn't prove to you. You felt your pussy flutter at the current situation of Naoya trying to talk you into showing you his sensual skills, as he was aware of not being in the position to make any wrong move, but still trying to counterbalance that.

“Yeah, a shame really,” you echoed his words.

A long pause was made. The air grew thicker in what felt like the longest minute of your life.

Naoya cleared his throat, finally breaking the torturing silence. “What if we made a deal?”

You turned your head immediately to meet his eyes, an intense flame glowing in yours, awaiting for his words.

“I’m all ears.”

A slight of a vicious smile was on his lips.

“You never speak a word of what you saw earlier if I can make you cum.”

You realized you were holding your breath until the end of his sentence. Of course, having the power to blackmail him was an attractive option. But you didn’t have the patience nor ideas of how to use it— it could even mean that you cared about Naoya and his life, which you really didn’t. Your ways had barely met since you graduated. It could be an easy way to get this story out of the way, and perhaps as a bonus: have an orgasm. The decision was made in your head but you wanted to tease him.

“Do you really think it’s that easy?”

“Well, I received compliments, so yes,” he simply answered, approaching you. He kneeled in front of you, hands resting on the bed at your sides. “So, do we have a deal?” Naoya licked his lips, making sure he met your gaze at the moment he did it.

You felt his hands getting closer to your thighs, barely touching the fabric of your skirt. You also had a perfect angle on his chest still glistening with sweat from his previous activity, as he wore a satin robe over his pants. The most unfortunate thing about Naoya was his gorgeous appearance. Training had made him thick with defined muscles, and his face was simply beautiful. You reluctantly liked when his almond-shaped eyes, with the generous lashes over it, met yours. The golden piercings on his ears added to his bleached hair, made him look like a punk brat, which matched your taste.

“C’mon, don’t be shy. This can be arranged by mutual agreement,” he continued, this time dangerously caressing your thighs, running his hands up and down on your smooth skin.

You were not known to be a coward. And you wanted to see what type of lover was Naoya, after all you already had a glimpse of his abilities.

But you still had an ounce of dignity.

You slapped his hands away, making him step back. “Alright. I have one condition though.”

“Yeah?”

His mind was already wandering on how he could fuck you the best —will it be on all fours with your beautiful ass squeezed between his palms? Or with your legs on his shoulders while his cock will dive impossibly deep inside your juicy cunt? You had him wrapped around your finger the second you agreed.

“You’re taking a shower first.”

He granted that for obvious reasons. “Seems fair,” he simply answered.

Standing up, he moved towards the bathroom, removing unceremoniously his satin robe on the way. You followed him, also removing your top on the way, unclasping your bra and dropping it on the floor carelessly. Naoya reached the bathroom before you and started to turn on the hot water in the ridiculously big shower.

Two hot hands grasped your breasts before you could even realize it. You felt his body heat radiating into your back, and all you could do was look at yourself in the (again, ridiculously big and luminous) mirror, while he played with your tits. Your eyes met, dark and lascivious, before you felt his tongue run on the side of your neck to your ear. His close breath sent shivers to your spine. Naoya pinched your nipples, rolling the little buds between his fingers, eager to extract a reaction from you. He brought you closer to him, your back glued to his torso, feeling all of him —his heat, his skin, his arousal. He left your nipples to fully squeeze your breasts, feeling the weight and the softness of them in his hands.

“I knew you had nice tits,” he commented in a breath, trying to meet your eyes in the mirror.

“Of course I have.”

You didn’t need any remark about your body from Naoya.

One hand left your breast to travel down, hovering over your side, to rest on your hip. Naoya started to knead the flesh there, barely slipping his hand over your skirt. One of your hands rose to grasp the back of his head, encouraging him to continue without having to voice it out. You slightly moved your hips, trying to feel more his erection pressed against your back and he had to hold back a groan at the feeling of your ass teasing his hardening cock. He thought you wouldn’t play fair with this deal, but he was wrong.

It was all he needed to lift up your skirt to reveal your ass, revealing your panties to his hungry eyes.

“How lewd of you,” he commented again, twisting your lace panties between his fingers.

“The water is running,” you cut him.

He squeezed more of your breast as a small protest but let go of you shortly after. Naoya was quick to get undressed and get under the shower. You looked at him getting all wet through the transparent wall of the shower, admiring water running down his broad body.

“Could you wash yourself now? I won’t let you touch more of me while you still reak of sex with that boy earlier.”

You rested your body on the sink, arms crossed on your chest, checking if he was indeed cleaning up as you ordered. You didn’t expect Naoya to be such a view while doing something as trivial as that. The water flowing down his body emphasized his muscular form, his wet skin glowing while his hands were spreading soap bubbles on his torso. Not to mention his damp hair falling on his forehead, giving him a unique look—

“Like what you see?”

You’ve been staring a bit too much. You met his gaze, as intense as yours.

“I don’t want to flatter your already overinflated ego.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

His eyes eventually wandered on your form as well, now washing his stomach. You couldn’t resist but to follow the slow path of his hands to his lower parts. His cock was still hard, and you saw it twitch once you laid your eyes on it. It was hard to admit that he had a very nice cock —long, thick, rosy, with a pretty vein on its side. His hands hovered over his sex, as he washed it slowly, explicitly puting on a show for you. He let out a breathless groan, heavily turned on by your almost naked form and the way you were looking at him slowly touching himself.

“So, how many orgasms do you want tonight, doll?”

His hoarse voice echoed in the bathroom, transmitting his liquid desire. Naoya was surprisingly invested in this deal. The pet-name he assigned to you made your blood buzz in every vein of your body, sensing the reluctant desire for him building up slowly.

“How much stamina do you have?”

You approached him, while he painstakingly released his cock to quickly bend and wash his legs. Straightening himself up, Naoya caught your sustained gaze again.

“Lots,” he answered with a cocky grin.

“Alright, we’ll see that.”

Of course you wouldn’t make it easy for him.

“Don’t you wanna join me under the shower and get your first orgasm?”

His confidence was sickening. “No thanks.”

Leaving him to your refusal, you went back to the room only to drop yourself on the bed and remove your last piece of clothing. You were left in your panties, in the middle of Naoya’s large bed, waiting for him. It was really an odd situation being here, expecting someone you had some kind of wrath against, but happened to desire strongly for the sake of the situation. Because you knew it would be a one-time thing, it felt unique, and even more exciting. A hot feeling tied your stomach and dropped between your thighs, as if your body was anticipating what was about to happen next.

Naoya cut the water once he was done washing himself, still imagining the lewdest things he could do to you while you were gone. He was also thinking of a way of turning the situation to his advantage to eventually become the one in charge— it kind of bothered him not to be able to do whatever he wanted to you. He decided to simply fuck you dumb, as a personnal revenge. He wore a wolfish smile as when he finally joined you, only wearing a towel on the hips. He looked at your gorgeous (almost) naked form on his bed, marking every detail of your body in his mind. He quickly noticed your pink cheeks, and your heavy breathing. Your lust betrayed you.

He licked his lips. “I never thought I'd ever see you like that in my bed. It’s kinda hot. Mind if I get an eyeful?”

He sat at your feet, on the bed.

He spoke with a calm yet low voice. “Show yourself to me, doll. Don’t be shy and open your legs.”

You complied, intending on putting on a show for him too. “Good,” he smiled again, seeing how you were such an obedient girl. He moved forward your body to settle between your open legs. It felt like you were offering yourself to him. He held back a groan, finally letting his sight wander freely on your underwear. It was damp. Your pussy was slightly trembling under his heavy gaze. You never thought seeing Naoya devouring you with his eyes would be such a turn on.

“So, how do you want me to make you cum? On my tongue, fingers, or cock?” He bit gently the inside of your thigh making you shiver, before looking back at you, voice dropping an octave and an indescribable expression on his face. “Or maybe you’d like all three?”

You almost whimpered at how the room felt once he said that. Oh god you needed all of that. You wondered who was the one in charge here. You had to gulp to make your mind clear and keep a poker face.

“Show me your talents with your tongue.”

As an answer Naoya bit inside your other thigh, a bit stronger this time. He started pressing wet kisses, trailing his tongue on your sensitive skin closer to your core. You sit up straight, resting on your elbows to have a better view of the man’s gestures. He breathed your essence, dangerously close to your obscenely wet panties, pussy already clenching around nothing. He took his time to make you wait a little, now giving the exact same treatment to your other thigh, knowing exactly how to tease you. He dragged slowly his wet and torturing tongue on your skin, eying your every reaction. You shifted your hips in impatience.

“Mh? Is something the matter?” Naoya asked, faking innocence.

“Nothing,” you lied between gritted teeth.

It became more than a sex arrangement— it was battle of egos.

He sucked a beautiful purple hickey inside your thigh. You started squirming under him, which made it more difficult for him to press kisses and licking your skin. He wrapped a strong arm under one of your thighs to ground you to his bed. “Stop moving,” he ordered with a firm tone. You immediately obeyed which made him smile again. “Good,” he whispered, finally putting his wet lips on your clothed cunt. He slowly kissed the fabric, letting his senses be overwhelmed by your dampness, your smell and your taste.

“Look how wet you are. Is it all for me? I bet you were turned on, seeing me fuck a guy.” He groaned, almost speaking to your pussy.

You moaned as an answer, feeling his tongue rolling agonizingly slowly onto your pulsing cunt. He gently sucked your clit through your panties, before kissing it again, making you move your hips to let him know how you liked it. You needed far more. He was playing with your nerves, enjoying teasing you with his tongue.

“C’mon Naoya. You can do better than that,” you provoked him in a moan.

“Impatient little thing, aren’t you? Can’t really blame you for that.”

He licked a long stripe on your covered slit, before reaching again for your puffy clit, rolling it deliciously between his lips. He used his free hand to finally move your panties to the side. The air on your bare pussy made you shiver added to the intense gaze Naoya laid on your sex.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he commented. This time, you weren’t bothered by the compliment aimed at you. Your mind was fuzzy, blood pumping hard in your system— so much that your pussy clenched under his sight.

“Isn’t it funny how you try to be composed when your cunt is painfully waiting for me to take care of it?” He smiled devilishly. You groaned, annoyed that he was right.

“Alright, I’ll take good care of your sweet pussy. Makin’ it even more wet and ready to take me.”

He voraciously tasted your pussy, not bothered by the lascivious noises his mouth was making, drinking your essence. It felt so much better like that, with him exploring your cunt with his hot tongue and lips, sucking eagerly your clit. His mouth felt divine. You couldn’t hold back your moans at this point, your hand reaching for his damp hair to hold onto him. He lapped at your pussy, alternating between paces and pressure to see what felt best for you. He used one of his long fingers to explore the entrance of your sex without giving you the pleasure to fully sink it inside you. He enjoyed the feeling of your drenched pussy on his hand, mentally bracing himself for how wet you were going to be for him once he made you reach your high. He felt himself twitch between his legs, aroused by your sinful moans and your taste. Naoya increased the speed of his tongue on your clit— your back arched off the bed and you squeezed his hair tighter.

“Gonna cum on my tongue?” He asked, looking back at you.

His mouth leaving your pussy was a betrayal when you were so close to your orgasm. “Less talking more sucking.”

He complied. You were at his mercy now. His lips sucked your clit, building up the familiar pressure in your lower belly.

“Just like that, ohh—fuck,” you moaned. His grip on your hip became stronger. He licked between your legs with even more vigor, circling and playing with your clit on his hot tongue, flattening his muscle on the sensitive bud. His wanton noises were delicious to hear. He used his finger to massage your lower lips, never stopping the motion of his tongue.

“C’mon, doll. Cum on my tongue,” he spoke onto your sex.

His tone was a little less patient than before—he also wanted to get his turn. Naoya never expected to be turned on by eating you out as he rarely ate out his lovers, but the more you whimpered for him, the more he wanted to see you beg and cry for his cock. He continued to lick your throbbing cunt the way you liked, tongue quickly lapping at your juices and your engorged clit.

“Let it all go, I know you want to.”

“Oh my—fuck, yes!” You cried out in pleasure, before letting out the highest moan as you felt your body go limp. With a final stroke of his tongue on your clit, you indeed, let it all go, indulging in the pleasure Naoya was giving you. Your body was still convulsing slightly, as he was giving the most gentle kitten licks to your sex to let you catch your breath after you were taken over by your orgasm. It really did hit you like a truck.

“Fuuuck. That felt so good.”

You released his hair as he stepped back from you sex, giving the hickey on your inner thigh a little peck.

The sight before you was breathtaking. Naoya on his knees, gazing at your quivering and wet sex through his messy damp hair falling on his eyes. He was licking your remaining juices around his lips, and he had to use the back of his hand to remove what was left on his chin. Soon, his hands unknotted the towel around his hips, freeing his hard cock to your sight again. One of his hand went to his sex, squeezing it gently, drop of precum falling onto the bedsheets. His eyes were dark, watching your body, panties just put to the side with a wet patch under your ass from your orgasm. He couldn’t wait to fuck you. Or have you choke on his cock. His eyes went on your agape mouth as you tried to catch your breath. He pumped his dick a few times, imagining your tight lips around him. Oh you’d look so pretty like that, crying on his cock, stretching your mouth to take all of him.

“Don’t you think I deserve a little reward for making you cum like that, hm?”

Your eyes were glued on his cock. Your body moved on its own, getting on your knees, moving towards his sex. “I’m not sure you deserve to cum at all, though,” you said, replacing his hand on his cock with yours to pump it slowly. He grunted at the foreign contact of your small hands on his dick, mesmerized at the sight of you on your knees in front of him.

“Why not? The deal was to make you cum. I just did that—had you all dripping over me, moaning like a bitch in heat.”

He put a lock of your hair behind your ear, using the excuse of the self-interested gesture to put his hand under your chin to make you look at him.

“Don’t you wanna give it a reward kiss?” He offered, hips jerking towards you suggestively.

Dammit, with his gorgeous face, and his hard cock ready just for you to suck it. It was tempting not to end the night at only one orgasm when you knew he had much more potential. You squeezed his cock in your hand, making him gasp a little.

“Fine. Guess I can do that for you.”

But not like that. Not like he wanted.

You lost no time to flip him—pushing him at your previous place, on his back, with the right place for you to settle between his slightly opened legs. Naoya groaned out of frustration to be handled like you desired but he quickly stood on his elbows to take a full view of you, dark eyes awaiting for your next move. You caressed his thighs, hands moving closer to his groin as you watched his cock painfully resting on his stomach. You brought your face to his sex, cheek hovering over his thigh, as you licked a long stripe from base to the tip of his dick. He kept his composure until you sucked at one of his balls which made him tense and hold back a moan. Your lips were soon wrapped around his tip, sucking his cockhead like a candy with a wandering tongue moving around it. You knew he liked it at the moan he shamelessly let out, quickly followed by a strong hand gripping your hair.

“Don’t play with fire, kitten. Come on, suck it like you mean it,” he ordered.

For now, you obeyed, opening your mouth and dropping your face on his long cock to take him fully. It hurt, yet somehow felt good to feel him pulse on your tongue. You bobbed your head slowly to set the pace you wanted, as saliva overwhelmed your mouth to welcome the delicious intrusion. One of your hands held and massaged his balls gently—Naoya didn’t warn as his hips pushed his dick further inside your mouth, making you gag around him with an obscene sound.

“Faster.”

You bobbed your head as he told, faster, but his grasp on your scalp was torturing as he tried to guide your movements. You paused to breathe by licking just the tip, rolling your tongue on the sensitive skin and tasting his salty precum.

“Hey, who told you to slow down? I want you gaging around my cock,” his voice was urgent and firm.

His remark made you tick. You let go of his cock to meet his eyes, slightly angry.

“I don’t see how you’re in the position to boss me around. You seem to quickly forget who has your cock between her teeth.”

He got annoyed at your menace. “Insolent little bitch,” he murmured. He hated his lack of control on the matter.

“Don’t cum in my mouth or I’ll spit back your cum into your eyes.”

He gritted his teeth in protest but it didn’t matter anymore because you had the power over him. With a slight chuckle, you wrapped your lips again on his beautiful cock, giving it the treatment it deserved. You used the hand on his balls to finally grasp what couldn’t fit inside your mouth before relaxing your jaw around him. Your tongue danced on its own along his shaft like it was memorizing the map of his sex. You heard the Zenin moan loudly at that sudden shift of method to pleasure him. He sounded animalistic, it was so hot. Oh to break his mind by giving him head. You hummed at the idea around his cock and the delicious vibration made him groan.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” you heard him say and guessed the grin on his lips. “Look at me, doll.”

You surrendered to his order, still knowing you had the power to chop off his dick with your teeth. You could give him at least what he wanted once—that being the sight of you sucking him off. Because it’ll be the first and the last time.

“Shit, what a view.”

Pride radiated from his face, especially from the condescending smile you loathed. He put a thumb on your lower lip, saying:

“Too bad I can’t cum inside that beautiful mouth of yours, I would have loved to see you swallow every drop of my seed.”

You didn’t want to see nor hear more of that. You already told yourself you were going to shatter his pride; it was harder than you thought. The man couldn’t simply shut up and enjoy what you were doing to him, of course not.

After rolling your eyes at his stupid wish that you would defenetly not grant him, you focused more on how you could make him feel good—you had your own things to prove. This battle of egos against Naoya was stimulating. You’ve never had sex with such restraint despite desiring so much the person, you played hard to get and would not allow him to get comfortable. He needed to get out of his comfort zone, just for once, and give him something to think of the next time he’ll have sex with a random.

Your face was now covered with spit and tears: just what you needed to create the perfect picture to drive his imagination. You gaged audibly around him to take him far deeper than before, cock hitting the back of your throat. You sucked him with more vigor, tongue rolling on his cock deliciously while your hand still played with his balls to which he moaned of pleasure. Your jaw and neck hurt, but you had to continue, to make him surrender. He started to pant really hard and a stream of insults quickly left his mouth, hand still gripping furiously your hair as his life depended on it—you could see the reluctance in his knitted brows.

“I’m close,” said Naoya with a low groan. “Fuck—”

Pride filled you.

Then, he convulsed with a delicious moan, gripping the back of your head to take you away from his cock. He was quick to fist his wet shaft at a tremendous pace to chase his pending orgasm. Seeing you sitting back on your heels between his legs eyeing his moving hand, like you hadn’t his cock deep in your mouth seconds ago made him smile smugly. It was when he saw you pinch your lips drenched with saliva as you intensely watched his cock that he felt his balls tighten—you only had eyes for him. All his body suddenly shuddered, and he let out loud curses while finishing on himself, quick spurts of cum falling on his stomach. Naoya slowed down the movement on his shaft until the aftershocks of his orgasm dissipated completely. It felt utterly satisfying, yet…

You had never seen this look in anyone’s eyes before. It was lust, for sure, in its more primal form. Nevertheless there was more than that. Anger? Frustration? Thirst for revenge? Probably all of it. His intentions to wreck you were obvious, so much that his intense gaze made your heart pound loudly in your chest. You felt yourself being inexplicably aroused.

Technically, the deal was already over. He made you cum.

Seconds passed.

Like a hunter and his prey (but both sides thinking they are the hunter), you waited for the other to make the fatal move. You gulped, intensely looking at the gorgeous man in front of you that was eyeing you like he could eat you alive.

He needed you to surrender fully to him too, to make concessions as well, even though his desire for you was overwhelming his senses.

“So?” He tried to ask casually.

The air grew thicker. His avid eyes wandered on your body to stop to carefully watch your breasts, then your glistening cunt. His heavy gaze gave you goosebumps, especially when you saw him lick his lips. You gave in your lust.

“Fuck me,” you whispered.

He feigned ignorance, “What did you say?”

You repeated louder, articulating properly, what your request was. “I asked you to fuck me.” You let him win this round.

“That I can do,” he answered with mischief.

“Show me.”

You didn’t need to tell it twice this time. Naoya straightened himself to face you with a carnivorous smile—his lips attacked your neck, kissing and biting the soft skin under your jaw. Soon, his hands were on your hips to bring you closer to him by grounding you on his strong thigh, and you both let out a whimper when you felt the contact of your dripping sex on him. It was getting hard for him not to ravish you because of the sighs of pleasure escaping your mouth while you started rocking your hips on his thigh, searching for stimulation on your clit. “Oh, fucking hell it feels good,” you commented between pants, “I need more.” You hated that you sounded so desperate. He felt his cock twitch, asking for its second plate.

Naoya used his hands on your hips to flip you to his previous place, settling between your legs and caging you between strong arms. You felt his dick rest on your stomach, wet and heavy, at how close he was to you. His lips were still devouring your neck but quickly trailed down on your collarbone until he finally took one of your nipples in his mouth. He groaned at the feeling of your hard bud under his tongue, also content to hear you moan under the flick of his hot mouth. He shifted to give the other mount the same attention it deserved. You had to grip the back of his neck to ground you while you moved your hips towards him, impatiently giving him the unvoiced order to keep going.

“So eager… Patience, I’m getting there,” he cooed, quickly glancing at you—he enjoyed seeing your pout of frustration. “I need to loosen you up.”

He opened your legs with his knee to make room for him, now settling on his heels to take a good look at you underneath him. Your small teary eyes were enough to get him hard again.

“Get these off,” he spoke urgently, taking off your panties in a quick movement.

Naoya let a hand wander on your wet sex, spreading your flickering folds between two digits. Those same digits were soon slowly entering your slit. You gasped at the intrusion. He lost no time to pump his fingers in and out of your pussy to create room for his cock. “God, you’re squeezing me already,” he said, entranced at the way your pussy was gushing around his fingers. He added a third one, which made you arch your back and moan.

“By the way: you’re not allowed to cum. The next time you do it, it’s on my cock.” He also wanted to create his own rules to the deal.

His thumb rolled on your clit as he gave you this order and you almost closed your legs at the pleasant surprise. “Hurry up then,” you scowled. He cockily laughed and started to piston his fingers fast into your pussy, not forgetting to flick lazily your clit. His coordination was breathtaking. He quickly found a spot that made you moan louder, and took the opportunity to curl his fingers right on that spongy area.

“Fuck, I bet you could squirt if I wanted to,” he said mostly to himself, amazed at the reactions you were giving him.

He fisted his cock a few times, impatient. He stopped curling his fingers, afraid it could make you cum easily, and got back to thrust vigorously with three fingers, opening you up for him. You were so wet but it didn’t bother him to spit on your pussy, two times: one for your slit, for him to fuck you on his fingers, and the second to dampen your clit so he could fasten the movements of his thumb on your swollen bud. You hummed at the effects of his coordination, feeling dizzy with pleasure as he was so swiftly building up your orgasm.

“Shit, I’m close again. Stop now and fuck me,” you ordered betwen ragged pants.

“My god, you’re so rude and bossy. Does the word “please” hurt your mouth so much?” He grumbled.

After withdrawing his fingers from your pussy, he spitted on it one last time. Not resisting another urge, he slapped gently your outrageously drenched pussy with his fingers. “Impolite bitch.”

A hand went to the base of his hard dick, while his hungry eyes were to your dripping pussy, clenching under his intense gaze and awaiting for the next move. He guided the sensitive head of his hard cock between your wet folds, up and down, reaching your clit and hovering agonizingly over your slit. “God, you’re so fucking wet and ready to take me.” His other hand went to grab firmly your thigh, raising your leg to his shoulder—he sensed this angle to fuck you will be amazing. His pride forbided him to fuck into you senseless, but rather to slowly make you lose your mind, to put you properly into submission.

“Look at me when I take you,” he ordered with an adamant voice.

After a quick glance on his engorged cock grazing over your sex making your mouth water, you obeyed, gazing at him. And then, he finally sunk into your pussy, inch by inch, not breaking for a second the eye-contact. Your mouth took the shape of an “o” at how much he was stretching you deliciously, cunt fluttering around him as his cock slowly made its way into you. “Fuck,” is all you could manage to say as he tried to bottom out, leaving you squirming under him.

The Zenin hissed. “Fuck, you’re still fucking tight.”

He finally reached your deepest spot—his cock was almost kissing your cervix at this angle. You whined out.

“So deep…,” you heard yourself whimper.

“Yeah but look at you, taking me so well, like the needy thing you are.”

It was like your pussy had its own conscience as you felt it quiver at his compliment, quickly followed by a groan coming from the man buried deep inside you. You used the grip you had on his neck to bring his face closer to your mouth. Your lips brushed his ear, whispering your next request, “Fuck. Me. Now.”

Your hot breath made him shiver, a wave of lust making his head fuzzy, especially when he felt your legs circle his hips, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt. You felt heavenly around his dick. He wanted to ruin you. He took your hand off of his neck, gripping your wrist to lock it above your head, so that he could pull his face away from you, taking in the entire sight of you under him.

He experimentally thrusted. Slowly. Your tits gently waved with the steady rocking of his hips. The delicious stretch and rhythm of his cock inside you made you moan, as your cunt adjusted to his size. Your eyes met his again, dark with lust.

“You have no idea of how you look right now,” he panted.

He was a sight too. He held your leg higher on his shoulder deepening the angle he was fucking you in. This angle was almost perfect. You rocked your hips back and forth, gently, reminding him that you were fucking him too.

“Faster.”

He picked up the pace, delighted to feel your pussy getting wetter around him. “Jeez, your pussy feels good,” he said with a cocky smile.

Naoya was not looking at your bouncing tits anymore. He was entranced at the sight of his glistening cock, drenched with your essence, proving he was fucking you good (because you wouldn’t admit it with words). He groaned at the sigh and released the wrist above your head to grip your hip, pushing you to the mattress. He had more balance to thrust with more vigor into your weeping cunt. Your head fell back into the pillow as you welcomed the new sensation of his cock pistoning inside of you.

You wanted to say something—a compliment. That he feelt good, that he fucked you just right. But you put your hand on your mouth, softening your noises to the pleasure he was giving you.

Naoya halted, pulling out his cock from your slit. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You gasped at the sudden emptiness.

“Nothing?” You lied.

He brought his face closer to yours and articulated carefully the next sentences, “Listen, babydoll. I’m fucking you to prove that I can make women cum, so that you forget the little accident from earlier. But it won’t work if I can’t hear you. Understood?”

You nodded, speechless.

“That’s better. Now, I’m gonna keep fucking you until you cum on my cock. A pussy always feels better on my cock after an orgasm.”

You let go of the hand on your mouth, letting it rest on the sheets around you. Before taking his cock in hand to align it again with your slit, he slapped your pussy for a second time. The impact made you whine.

He took your other leg to put it on his shoulder. You were folded to his wishes. Then, in one quick thrust, his cock found its way again inside your hot and wet walls. “Ah!” you both uttered at the familiar frixion between your sexes. He opened his legs slightly, towering over you so his torso was closer to yours, so he could angle his dick better inside of you. In this almost mating press position, he started thrusting inside of your pussy at a rapid pace. It felt divine. His soft groans of effort and pleasure were more audible with his face closer to yours. He fucked into you with abandon, looking at you like a predator, loving the obscene squelching sounds of your wet pussy around his cock.

One of his hands went to press your lower belly to try to feel the movement of his shaft inside you. You moaned loudly at the delicate pressure applied to this specific area. “Oh, do you like feeling me like that, deep inside your sweet cunny?”

“Yes! Fuck, you’re so deep!”

He couldn’t control himself as he laughed almost hysterically, and he slapped your side. You grunted at the impact. It was getting out of your grasp; Naoya was fucking you, not letting you do anyting. You were trapped.

“Hold on, I wanna switch positions,” you said, only reaping a dissatisfied look from the man above you. He stopped his furious pace.

“What do you want to do?”

“I’m going to ride you.”

He grimaced. He was reluctant to giving you the privilege of fucking him yet he wasn’t in a situation to argue. “Fine. But I’ll finish with you on your knees,” he said before bottoming out from you to lay back comfortably on the bed. He watched you with hungry eyes as you straddled him, carefully taking his cock and letting its head gently brush your entrance and your clit. He groaned, slowly bucking his hips to inform you of his urge to be quickly buried again in your pussy. You sat on him in a swift movement, welcoming the fullness of him inside you again with a long moan.

It felt divine again, his cock brushing the perfect places in that angle as you rolled your hips experimentally. “Damn, I should’ve done this earlier,” you commented, a devilish grin on your face.

Soon, Naoya’s hands were glued to your hips in an attempt to help you fuck yourself on his cock. He moaned, as you continued rolling your hips to the sides, in no particular hurry to start impaling you properly on his shaft. You were fascinated at the man’s heavy eyes glued to your body, conveying his frustration as his lips were pinched together not to critique your way of doing. Your hands landed on his torso, finally moving towards him to raise your hips so you could finally move up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, finally…” You heard him say in a soft groan.

The friction on your sexes were amazing as you quickened the pace. The curve of his dick was perfect in this angle, and you knew your pussy was dripping on him, down to his heavy balls. As you were busy steading a faster rhythm, you brought a hand around his neck, gently squeezing it. He frowned at that, surprised you initiated such a thing. The smack on your bottom quickly followed.

“Oh, you’re choking me now? Kinky,” he said, firmly grabbing the wrist of the hand around his neck. You didn’t put much force in your grasp, not really wanting to make him angry. “Are you sure you wanna play this game?” Your hand tightened around him, making him wear a devilish smile. He smiled because he rarely found lovers who had the guts to do things like that to him; but he liked it depending on the situation. The situation right now was justified enough to make him like it. He slapped your other buttcheeck with more force.

“Touch me.” Your order was clear.

With you choking him deliciously, he complied, bringing his hand to the apex of your thighs and played with your clit. You moaned and tightened around him, making him grunt in response. Blood was pumping hard in his veins, incredibly aroused by the positions both of you were. His fingers worked intensely on your clit, making you gasp several times and slow down the movement of your hips. You felt your orgasm rise, tingling everywhere in your body, while his cock was reaching the best places.

“Fuck, don’t slow! don’t slow-oh god!” You almost came to a halt, but continued to rock your hips as much as you could.

“You’re gonna cum doll?” He didn’t stop at all his quick work on your soaked clit, marveling at the view of you getting closer to your sweet release.

“Yes, don’t stop!”

“As I promised, you’re gonna cum pretty on my cock,” he said, grinding his hips back inside you, as you completely focused on the pleasure he was giving you. You hand to steady yourself back on his torso, completely leaving his neck from your grip. “Yeah just like that, cum on my cock. You’ll have to remember who made you cum so hard.” He was now fucking you from underneath you, taking the lead of the position. The sensation of his cock swiftly pumping inside you and his skilled digits on your little bud was intoxicating. You were going to snap soon at the intensity of all these simulations.

“C-Cumming,” was all you could manage to announce as your orgasm completely overtook you.

You twitched from head to toe, releasing the most delicious moan as every inch of your body felt an indescribable pleasure. “Yes! Yeah, release everything, doll, come on!” You barely heard what Naoya said to you as he continued to buck his hips into you. He couldn’t stop himself from moving his digits on your clit, making your head dizzy out of overstimulation. As you were drained by the intense climax he just gave you, he watched you slowly go limp on him, breathing unevenly and taking your sweaty body between his arms. He caged you for a few seconds before taking the opportunity to take you like he had promised: on your knees. You couldn’t proceed with a coherent word.

“I’m almost done, you do a little effort for me,” he pushed your head on the pillow, and grasped your hips in a tight grip to level them to his groin.

“I deserve that, don’t I?” He whispered, resuming his quick pace as he entered you again. He thrusted in you fast, sensing his pending orgasm. Your pussy felt heavenly better now, with the outshocks of your previous climax—he felt it quiver gently, and wetting deliciously his cock. He pistoned his cock hard and fast, balls tightening and slapping on your ass. He was feeling more than ever his incoming orgasm, panting hard above you.

“Fuck I’m close. Where do you want it? Tell me quickly.”

Finally recovering from your orgasm, you threw your head, releasing your face from the pillow to articulate:

“On me, cum on me.”

He slapped your rear once again. “Alright doll, I’ll gladly paint your ass with my cum.”

He watched one last time his shaft entering you, a white ring of your cum around it, and drenched with the rest of your essence. That’s when he heard you moan a low “fuck” from his quick thrusts that he pulled his cock out to immediately bring his fist around it. “Look at me.” You turned your head to gaze at him over your shoulder, fucking his hand without holding back. He grunted at the sight of your agape mouth, watching him reach his bliss, ass presented to him like a canvas to paint with his release. He tightened his grip a little also taking advantage of your cum on his sex to quicken his pace. With a final loud moan, he felt all his body tense. Spurts of hot and sticky cum fell onto your ass, never ending as he didn’t stop the motion of his hand to draw his orgasm out until the last drop. Low pants accompanied these long seconds, as both of you tried to catch your breaths again.

Naoya sighed, ultimately coming back to reality, eyeing his cum slowly drifting on the curves of your ass. With the red tip of his softening cock, he spreaded it even more on your skin.

“Nice view. Never thought I'd ever see this,” he said, trying to print the memory in his mind. You turned back on your heels, not really caring about his seed on your ass.

“Don’t get too comfortable with me,” you said. “Fuck, I really needed that.”

“So, I think I fulfilled my part of the deal. Twice, even. Make sure you don’t say a word.” He stood out of the bed, grabbing his robe on the floor to put it back on his sweaty shoulders. He also threw your clothes next to you.

“I’ll remain silent,” you swore, putting your shirt back.

“Perfect. Just so you know: I’ll kill you if you ever speak up,” he paused, looking at you from head to toe. “Also, I was half joking about wanting to make you squirt.”

You choked on air. “What the fuck?!”

#jjk smut #naoya zenin x reader #naoya smut #naoya x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen x reader #naoya x y/n #naoya x you #roleca writes #jjk naoya

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pretty-boys-book-club · 2 years

Text

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader, mentions of past Aaron Hotchner x Haley Brooks

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST, character death, angst with happy ending, mentions of child abuse, child neglect, Aaron Hotchner Needs a Hug, Aaron Hotchner Whump, Teen Hotch, alcoholic mother - I think this is pretty much it, but feel free to let me know if there's any more!

Word Count: 12K (this thing is loooong)

Prompt: Person A is too busy working, even going as far as spending Christmas Eve alone at their office. They end up falling asleep and get visited by a series of ghosts who give them a chance to re-evaluate their actions and right the wrongs of their past. (A Christmas Carol)

Author’s note: The person who sent me this request wished to stay anonymous, so I’m posting this as a text instead of an answer. I’m sorry if this a little too sad, but I thought Hotch deserved some type of background and got a bit carried away. The timeline is a bit wobbly and this hasn’t been beta read, but I’ve spent over a week obsessing over this text and something tells me it is ready to be released into the world. Also, per the request,I’m doing this one as a Fem!Reader.

This is part of my 12 Days of Christmas (100 Followers Celebration, which turned into a 250 followers celebration and now a 300 followers celebration!). Requests are now closed and will reopen at 2022.

Haley Hotchner was dead: to begin with. There was no doubt whatever about that. The arrangements – which sort of coffin, cremation or burial, where would they have the service – seemed to relate to someone else, some stranger. The register of her burial was signed by the coroner, the forensic pathologist and someone else at the FBI. Aaron Hotchner signed it too.

He’d known nearly immediately, of course. How could it be otherwise? Aaron knew as soon as he walked into their house, his gut telling him the worst possible outcome had come true. As odd as it sounds, part of Aaron was grateful for the pain. Of course, he was absolutely miserable but, in his own way ,he was glad that his ex-wife died first so she didn’t have to feel what he did. As much as it hurt, it was an honor to him to be able to share the best years of their lives together and that she chose him to share them with. And if he thought too hard about what it was like for him in the first couple of years, he was glad that she was spared of that.

On the surface, the man looked and behaved just as usual. Rather, Aaron felt content to find a new sense of resilience. One latches on to any concept that offers hope or comfort. As a trained FBI profiler, Aaron knew that a theory shared by many psychiatric studies of bereavement is that the mind shuts down, so the body will have time to adjust to the new situation.

During her burial and the days that followed, Aaron felt as if he was moving through the rooms like a shadow, and their shared house seemed large and cold and alien. He’d never spent such a long time at the house without Haley. After a couple of weeks, the soft grief, the tears, began to hit. The metaphors – waves, inundation, floods – seemed accurate to him. Grief swallowed him. Whoever he was before her death, was replaced by a melancholic, taciturn, and cautious man. An iron ring was cast around his heart, followed by a heaviness in the chest. It was almost as if his innards had been scooped out – no stomach, heart, or emotions.

Reid once told him that after a year and a half 70 per cent of widows reported significant improvement in their feelings, which offered more hope to Hotch than statements such as “everyone’s grief is different”.

After about a year, Aaron stopped obsessively going over the most horrible week of his life. He once had promised Haley that he’d make sure she and Jack never suffered pain because of his job. And she had suffered great pain, in the end. But after so long of wallowing and going over every moment of that nightmare, in some vain expectation of correcting his mistakes, he had to move on.

Since that fateful night, everything had become about Jack. He had to make their life as normal as possible and see Jack through the hell of their reality with the assurance that he was loved and that both of them would be okay.

After two or three years, he stopped thinking about Haley’s death. Jack was getting better every day, and as he did, Aaron found himself worrying less about his son. He was almost starting to believe that he would be okay. He had a lot of work ahead, but he’d manage.

So, there was no doubt that Haley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come out of this story.

After Haley’s death though, whatever he might have once been, Aaron Hotchner was a different man. He needed to work, not only to survive, but so that he had an identity that he could wear like armor. This new version of himself was working at least 70 hours a week, so much on his plate that early every minute of his day had to be spent in a productive way. He still felt as if he’d lost a limb. But his wound had healed and he’d learned to manage without it.

The old Aaron only had to exist in the precious moments before his head hit the pillow at night or when he was spending time with Jack. It was safer there. At some point, he became hard and sharp as steel, self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold inside him froze his features, brows permanently furrowed, wrinkles adoring his forehead. He carried his own low temperature always about with him, external heat and cold had little influence on Aaron Hotchner. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him.

Once upon a time—of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve— Aaron Hotchner sat busy in his office. The weather was cold and bleak, and he could hear the people in the bullpen going around their day. Reid was stating all the possible facts about Christmas to Morgan, Prentiss was discussing what type of wine to bring to a party with Rossi, JJ had already left to be with her family, Penelope was merrily distributing gingerbread cookies to all of the office and youyou, well, youyou werewere far too busy actually working.

You see, you you arrived at the team just after Hotch returned from his leave, proving yourselfWith a background on forensic analysis, you’d quickly proved to be a useful asset to the team. Not only that, but your work ethic was impressive, probably the only other person in the team who worked as hard as Hotch did.

There was something different about you. Something that made Hotch feel as if he could relax around you, and he felt, slowly, all the walls he’d put up starting to crumble. Spending so many hours together, it was only natural that the two of you grew closer together.

To be completely honest, Aaron’s not even sure when it started. If he had to guess, it might have been during one of the late nights you shared at the office, enjoying the silence. Or it might have been when you started to compliment him on the tiniest of things - Hotch knew you were a profiler, but he didn’t expect anyone on the team to notice whenever he got a haircut or when he tried a different coffee brand than usual. Or maybe it was because you never gave him a look of pity. Maybe sadness, maybe care, never pity. Maybe, just maybe, his feelings started when you knocked on the door to his office with a bag of takeout, starting a secret routine of sharing dinner, chatting about anything and everything at once. Maybe that’s when the familiar feeling sank in. Or maybe it was any of the other small moments in between.

Of course, having felt this way before, he knew exactly what was happening. Sure, you were attractive, it was hard not to notice the way you swayed your hips or how your curves complimented you, but it was more than that. It wasn't a crush or some type of infatuation. It was too similar to what he’d felt all those years ago with Haley. So he couldn’t possibly allow it. Not if it meant to be plagued with the possibility of you getting hurt too. On top of that, the fact that he was your boss just further complicated things. No, he decided, those feelings won’t do. Best to avoid it all together.

So he started to push you away. Trying his best to ignore what his heart craved so badly. Sitting back and watching as you dated despicable man after despicable man. Even if he wanted to give his heart to you, after years of white-knuckling it, his fingers didn’t know how. Anyway, back to our story.

The clock had barely hit four in the afternoon, but it was quite dark already — it had not been light all day. Snow was pouring down so dense that all the other buildings outside of Quantico were mere phantoms. Aaron had come to despise the winter weather. Haley loved the season and the holidays served him as a painful reminder of memories he didn’t want to revisit.

Hotch was divorced from all the antics of lights and decorations, as soon as the leaves announced the beginning of autumn, his moments of abstraction were frequent, and in them it seemed as if his spirit were wandering the paths of another world. He’d only come back to his senses with the beginning of the next year, when the first flowers blossomed with hope of spring.

During the month of December, the BAU had surprisingly little to do. A few cases here and there, but nothing that required more than a couple of days. So, from where he was sitting in his office, he saw that most of the team had already left. You were still typing away at your desk, the only one left at the bullpen. He saw from the corner of his eye how you held your coat closer to your body, the temperature at Quantico making you slightly tremble. Not matter how many times Hotch had told maintenance to come down and fix the thermostat at their floor, his requests had been ignored.

He was so distracted observing you, a luxury he rarely did ever let himself indulge in. He should have been more insistent, you shouldn’t waste your time working that much lest you become like him. He hated how he could see the transformation taking place in you. How your soft eyes now carried a look of disappointment each time you looked at him. He was so absorbed in his task of admiring you that he was caught by surprise by someone entering his office.

“Merry Christmas, Hotch!” cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Penelope Garcia, who was head to toe dressed in red and green, not hiding her enthusiasm for the season.

“Merry Christmas, Garcia.” he said, not looking up from his report. He watched as Penelope left him one of her cookies on his desk as she walked away, one of the last of the team to leave the office.

“Sir, I’ve closed off the bat cave for the day. Some of us will be going to Rossi’s to have a Christmas dinner, you know. Do you maybe want to join us?”

“There’s no need. It’s fine, thank you for worrying about me, Garcia.” he said shortly, and turned away, his attention back to his report.

“Okay, well, never hurts to ask. The invitation still stands, in case you change your mind. Good night then, sir.”

“Good night, Garcia.” he said as he heard her leave his office.

He looked back at the report in his hands. What was he doing? He knew it the team probably suspected he wasn’t as busy as he was pretending to be. But, for some strange reason, the idea of spending Christmas working was more appealing than the idea of spending it with Jack and Jessica. The idea of seeing his sister-in-law, which meant he’d have to face Roy too, would meant facing a painful and familiar feeling and he didn’t wish to spoil the night for anyone else.

“Please, don’t tell me you’re planning on actually working tonight.”

Hotch raised his eyes from his paper as the subject of his affections walked into his office. You were standing at the doorframe, arms crossed, holding the tiniest of packages, wrapped in some sort of shiny paper. Your face sported a concerned but amused look.

“It’s just another day, crimes don’t stop just because it’s a holiday.” he replied.

You observed him, not believing a word he said: “It’s just one night, Aaron, the office will be here tomorrow morning. But I bet Jack would love to have you with him tonight.” He whimpered at the use of his given name, hating how you could read him so effortlessly.

“He’s with Jessica and his grandfather, he’ll be fine. I get New Year’s with him. If I’m working, no one else has to.”

“Aaron, c’mon, you should go spend Christmas Eve with your family just like the rest of us.”

“I have to finish this report.” he turned back to face the papers on his desk. “Besides, I’ve worked during Christmas for the last few years, I really don’t mind.”

“Still, you really shouldn’t spend tonight by yourself. I can give you a ride to Rossi’s if you want. I heard he’s making thirteen different dishes, something about an Italian tradition. You should come.” He could see the expectation on your face. A look he had come to agree that was only reserved to him. After a moment of silence, you continued, suddenly remembering the package you were holding. “I got you a gift, by the way. I hope you like it.”

He wondered what you’d bought him, but decided against opening the gift, putting it inside one of the drawers instead. Anything to avoid letting you know how happy the little gesture made him. “Thank you. For the gift and the invitation. But I’m fine being here. You should go, I’m sure they are waiting for you.” Hotch gave you a small smile, unsure of what to tell you. He couldn’t admit he was at the office to avoid his feelings.

“Okay, never hurts to ask. The invitation still stands, in case you change your mind. Have a good night then, I…” You started, having trouble finding the right words. “Merry Christmas, Aaron.”

“Merry Christmas.” he uttered the words with a stone cold face, almost as if he’d rehearsed them before. Not hiding his guilt, though, he continued: “I’m sorry for turning down the offer, but I really need to finish this.” You seemed to understand his motives, looking down at your feet. He could see your eyes get a bit teary.

“Don’t worry about it.” You spoke softly, offering a gentle smile. He hated how you always did that, always showed sympathy for him. He didn’t deserve it.

And like that, you were gone, your steps echoing in the empty office as you took the elevator. He was now completely alone. Hotch sat there, unsure of what to think. He tried really hard not to feel bad for letting you go.

He really did.

HALEY’S GHOST

Without him noticing, the clock turned to yet a later hour. And so, Hotch decided to pour himself glass of scotch, the taste rich on his tongue, the familiar burn in his chest warming him up as he swallowed a generous gulp. It was much too late for him to drive home, not to mention the snowy road would be a menace to his safety, so he decided to sleep in his office. It was not the first, second, third or, hell, even fourth time he’d done so. Much too familiar with the action, he found himself laying in the sofa inside his office, putting one of the pillows below his head, sleep almost taking over him instantly.

It was then that Aaron noticed a couple of the computers outside his office turning on, the screens illuminating the empty bullpen. This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute, but it seemed an hour. The computers turned off as they turned on, together and all at once. His office door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the corridor; then coming straight towards his door.

“Who’s there?” He asked, cold gun smoothly drawn from its holster, pointed, and fired up, as if expecting someone to reply. His color changed though, when, without a pause, someone came on through the glass door, and passed into the room before his very eyes.

The same face: the very same. Haley Hotchner stood in front of him.

“I must be delusional…”

“No, you’re not delusional, Aaron.”

“Who are you? Is this some sort of prank? It’s not funny, you know.”

“Ask me who I was.”

“Who were you then?” said Hotch, raising his voice. “You can’t be… I shouldn’t have had so many drinks.”

“In life, I was your ex-wife, Haley.”

“But you’re…”

“I’m dead? That much, Aaron, is, unfortunately true.”

“Can we—can we sit down?” asked Hotch, looking doubtfully at the ghost.

“We can.”

“Do it, then.” Hotch took a moment to observe her more closely. This Haley, staring back at him, looked a bit older. She had more lines on her face, her hair was long enough to tie it up, back to her usual blonde. But, Hotch noticed that, oddly, there was more life in her eyes then than during the last few weeks of her life.

“You don’t believe in me,” observed the Ghost.

“No, I don’t,” said Hotch. He scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. He had become insane. Or maybe he was just dreaming. That had to be it. It was the only explanation that made sense. He had to be fast asleep on his office couch, and he would wake up in the morning to see that this whole thing was just some dream. He would wake up, alone on Christmas morning, and go back to work to forget this awful dream.

“After everything you have seen, you still think ghosts are impossible?” Haley’s ghost crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head, a stance that Hotch was very familiar with. The distant memory made the tension leave his body for a bit.

“Okay, let’s say I believe you are actually here for a second and not some vision I’m having…” Curiosity got the better of him. He sighed, dropping his head in his hands. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to warn you, Aaron, that you have yet a chance of living a long and fulfilling life, if you change the course you’re going. A true chance at love and happiness. You just need… a nudge in the right direction.” she quietly said, stroking Aaron’s face gently like she had done so many times during the years they were married.

“Oh, Haley, it’s really you. I’m so sorry.” Tears sprung to his eyes as he recalled their final moments together. He hugged her, burying his face in her shoulder. “I… I am-” The way he had cradled her, quite like he was doing right now “ I…”

“I know, Aaron. And I forgave you for it all, so you could find happiness again.” She held his face in her hands. “But you’re not happy, are you, Aaron? Look at you.”

“No, I am not! How can you expect me to be happy now you’re gone?” he demanded, in a faltering voice.

“You can be, I am sure. And you might not even see it, but you’re so close. You’ve got so much time to live, so much love left to experience, so many more wonderful years ahead of you. Time is the most precious thing in this world and to have shared my life for so long with you is something I am incredibly grateful for. Please tell Jack stories, so he knows how much I love him and how proud of him I will always be.” She smiled at him. Hotch can’t help but feel the hollowness of sadness combined with choking from grief. The price of love.

“You will be haunted,” she resumed, “by Three Spirits. Look at what they show you. Listen to them, please!”

“Is that what you call a nudge in the right direction, Haley?”

“It is.”

“I—I think I’d rather not,” said Hotch.

“Unfortunately, it’s not up you. Expect the first when the clock strikes one.” said Haley’s ghost, her hand touching his cheek one last time. “I loved you so much, but it’s time for you to let me go.”

Tears ran down Aaron’s face. “I’m not sure I know how.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Haley’s ghost smiled, wiping his tears gently with her thumb.

Then she left. Just as she appeared, dissolving into thin air. Aaron blew out a breath he’d been holding in his lungs without realizing it. And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or his glimpse into the afterlife, or the dull ache he still felt after seeing Haley one more time, Aaron went back to lying on the couch, not even taking off his shoes, and fell asleep upon the instant.

THE FIRST OF THE THREE SPIRITS

When Hotch awoke, it was so dark, that from his office he could scarcely distinguish the rest of the bullpen. He was trying to pierce the darkness with his eyes when he glanced upon the watch in his left hand. It was a quarter past midnight.

The idea being an alarming one, he scrambled out of his office, and groped his way to the door. He rubbed the sleep off his face with the sleeve of his shirt, he could see very little then. Hotch went back to his makeshift bed, and thought, and thought, and thought it over and over and over, and could make nothing of it. The more he thought, the more perplexed he was; and the more he endeavored not to think, the more he thought.

Haley’s ghost had bothered him. Every time he resolved within himself, after much inquiry, that it was all a dream, his mind went back again to its first position, and presented the same evidence to be worked all through, “Was it a dream or not?”

He stayed like that until the clock had hit one in the morning, when he remembered, on a sudden, that Haley’s ghost had warned him of a visit. Light flashed up in the room, and the door to his office opened.

The door to his office was opened, I tell you, by a hand. And Hotch, clutching his gun at its holster, found himself face to face with an unearthly visitor: “Tom?”

“Hello, Hotch.”

“Why are you here?” he inquired, even though he already knew the answer to that question. The old man looked just as he did on the last time they saw each other, with the small change being that he was able to breathe - or whatever it was ghosts did - without needing an oxygen tank.

“I am the ghost of Christmas Past.” his voice was singularly low, as if instead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance.

“Of course, you are. So, Shaunessy, where are you taking me?”

“As it usually goes, we shall start at the beginning.” Before Hotch had time to react, the spirit of the older policeman was holding his hand, they passed through the wall, stood upon the FBI building, facing the road below and then leapt out into the night. After a while, the entire city had vanished below them. Not a vestige of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground.

They landed on an empty field in rural Virginia. There was a sharp intake of breath from Aaron as he recognized the location. The sky was tinted a purplish gray just as he remembered, the snow falling down the quickest and heaviest it had in a long while.

“It can’t be.” Hotch said. “My old boarding school.”

“Do you remember it?” inquired Shaunessy’s ghost.

“Remember it!” cried Hotch with fervor; “I could walk around here while blindfold.”

They walked along the road, Hotch recognized every post and every tree, until an imposing building appeared in the distance. There was an empty familiarity in the way the school campus was silent during the winter break. Looking forward to the holidays, most of the boys put on their own clothes and packed their bags, shuffling past the school gates to the arms of their waiting parents, vacating the school for the two weeks that separated Christmas from the beginning of the year. Aaron watched all this activity without any obvious sadness or bitterness.

“The school is not quite deserted,” said the Shaunessy’s ghost. “A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left here still.”

Hotch looked to the front of the building, scanning it. Something caught his trained eyes: fresh footsteps in the snow, leading away from the building. And amidst all of it - a young Aaron Hotchner stumbling blindly through the storm, snow over his ankles, head pounding and tears shining in his eyes. The older Hotch remembered exactly how his fingers ached in the winter wind as he clenched and unclenched them, trying to keep the feeling in their tips.

“Do you know why we’re here?” inquired the ghost.

“It’s the year when my father got sick.”

“Were you two ever close?” the ghost prompted.

“My father… He hurt me and not once did he show a single ounce of remorse. Never. My mother… She knew… But she didn’t do anything. Then she had Sean, and we were happy for a while. But when I became a teen, I became more and more difficult because I started to realize that things shouldn’t be like that. That it wasn’t normal for love to hurt the way it did. I rebelled — that's how I coped.” He answered. The image of his poor excuse of a father beating up his mother on the kitchen floor, while his brother cried in his room, played in his mind. Flashes of being beaten, thrown down the stairs, slapped. “So my father decided that I was the problem. I was the screw-up son with an attitude problem. The beatings got more frequent, and the more he tried to correct me the more I lashed out. And mother was… She got me away as soon as she could, I think my mother thought boarding school would give me stability. I just felt as if I must have done something wrong to be sent away. She didn’t stop him, though. Nobody stopped him. He only stopped when he died.”

“Are we here because that’s when he died, then?”

“No, not yet, at least. You see, he’d been having all those symptoms for years but he didn’t do anything because of his pride. No, this, right here, it was the Christmas I spent at school.”

“A happy memory, then?”

“Yes.”

In fact, he remembered being glad to spend the holidays far away from home. Of course, he’d struggled when he first got to the school. The first night away, he sobbed in the small, unfamiliar bed. Aaron had just turned sixteen when his mother sent him away. He thought his mother, at least, loved him, so for her to leave as if Aaron held no importance to her at all. It had hurt. But as she said goodbye he felt a strange sense of relief. The school was the ideal setting for him to hit the “reset” button.

There were paddocks with sheep in them on the actual school grounds. There were woods next to the school pool. The school chapel was quaint, with roses growing up the exterior. It was different from what he was used to, but he quickly settled into the routine. It’s funny how you can adapt when you don’t have much of a choice. The school fostered organization; its surroundings provided a sense of peace; and its people offered engagement and a sense of belonging. Every day at home was unpredictable and ghastly. Rules that were enforced one day, don’t apply on the next day. Promises were neither kept nor remembered. At school, though, things seemed to always remain the same. Aaron finally felt like he had a place to call home. He found a new way to cope: by taking on lots of responsibility and putting up a competent front for others.

As Hotch, the older one, that is, reminisced about his childhood, his teenage self was huffing and puffing about, mumbling something to himself, a letter in his hands. Both men walked closer to where the teen was, trying to get a better view of what was going on.

“You don’t seem that happy.” Shaunessy’s ghost teased.

“Well, I mean, of course, I felt lonely and left behind. But when wasn't I lonely? At least I was in peace. Besides, I had nowhere else to go, so the matter was decided.”

“Doesn’t look very peaceful to me.”

It was sad, perhaps, but that was the way it had always been for Hotch by then. Before he could explain anything else, though, the silence of the scene was shortly interrupted by another boy running up to meet them. He was shorter than Aaron, his round face adorned by a pair of similarly rounded glasses and blonde hair. His cheeks were red, partly because of the weather, partly from running.

“Hotchner, where are you going?” exclaimed the younger boy, trying to catch up with him. The older Aaron took a few steps to get closer to unfolding scene, only to confirm he wasn’t seeing things.

“It’s Richard Wilkins!” The older Hotchner exclaimed, a smile on his face like never before. “He was one of my closest friends as a boy.”

“What the hell does it look like I'm doing?” The young Aaron retorted, stopping just for a moment to wipe the dark hair out of his face before continuing to walk.

“It looks like you’re sulking, or something, I don’t know. But you’re not wearing enough layers to go out in this weather. You’ll catch a cold, or pneumonia, or hypothermia. Or worse, you’ll get both of us expelled!” The boy reasoned, earning a scoff from the young Hotch.

“Why do you care anyway, Wilkins?” Aaron asked, like a moody child, without turning, still holding the letter in his hand. He surely carried the weight of the world on his shoulders at that moment. Snow flew in the courtyard and the wind blew it back.

“Didn't you hear? There's going to be a blizzard!”

Hotch did hear, the professors had been grumbling about it all week about it, complaining they might not make it home before the storm hit the town, afraid they might get stuck in the roads during the worst of it. He didn’t care. The cold made him feel alive.

“Listen, you can’t stay out here like that. You’ll freeze to death” Wilkins spoke softly.

“You don’t understand! No one does!” Suddenly young Aaron crumpled up the letter in his hand and threw it into a ball. Wilkins bent down to take it. He glanced down at it, scanning the text quickly.

“Wow, you must be sad about your dad…” Wilkins is giving Hotch a sad look, but he doesn’t say anything more about it.

“What? No! I feel nothing for that man. It’s just… I can’t believe he gets to ruin my Christmas even from afar.” the older teen practically growled. Aaron was tempted to tell Richie how he had wished for his father’s death. He had prayed about it more than a couple times and even wrote a letter to Santa when he was younger.

“I know the feeling, my parents are dead and they seem to have that power too.” Wilkins agreed. And Hotch immediately felt like shit, because at least he had a mother to go home to. Even if she was not the best, at least she was alive. “I’m sorry to hear that.“

“It’s alright. There’s no way you could possibly know. By the way, I came here because I was supposed to tell you that Father Jones and a couple of other kids are decorating the school, we’re having a Christmas party at the dining hall tonight.”

“I didn’t realize there was anyone else here for break.” Aaron looked down at his feet and rubbed his hand through his hair.

“There’s a few of us. You want to come?”

“Fine. But I’m not celebrating anything tonight.”

“Your loss. I heard there’s going to be an actual dinner tonight. Not the usual grub we are served, actual real food. Heard they even went to the city to buy some stuff. If you don’t want it, you’re out of luck. More for me, then.”

“Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me. Maybe I’ll try to enjoy it for a while.”

And with that, the boys walked back into the school, together, talking about their plans for the evening. Hotch felt his heart swell once again in hearing the laughter emitting from his child self and his friend while they joked with each other.

He saw how they entered the school, quickly being called by one of the older kids to help set up the lights. The boys spent the whole afternoon decorating, eating and enjoying each other’s company.

"You had a few Christmases with this guy?” Shaunessy asked, with the authority of someone who had seen every Christmas.

“Not really. For a while, we were best friends. But then my father died and my mother asked me to come back home.”

“You loved each other deeply.”

“I suppose we did. It’s stupid but… That little Christmas dinner, it meant everything to me.”

The scene faded was replaced by another wintry day. Now, instead of the old school building, they were in a nice residential street. The lawns were decorated with lights and reindeer and Santa Clauses. All of them, except one.

"Where are we now?"

“Another Christmas when you're a bit older. Another time and another place but one that had a huge impact on making you who you are now."

The boy that walked around the corner on this day was a few years older, barely turned into a man. He still had the same dark hair as before, but this time, tears ran unchecked down his face.

"No, I don't want to see this." said the real Aaron to the ghost.

“I’m sorry, Hotch, I know how you feel about this whole thing but you need to see it.”

He knew immediately what Christmas this was. It was the year when Aaron came home from college. After being isolated from the outside world for most of his life, he now had exams to study, a loving girlfriend and a future to look up to. Finally, he was normal. He clawed his way to have the life he deserved.

Coming back hadn’t been easy, but Haley had convinced him it was the right thing to do. He knew the old man couldn’t hurt him now. But dealing with his mother was hard. His mother, having come from a broken and somewhat dysfunctional home, was culpable in different ways. She had embraced the view that his father was trying his best to help them and how Hotch was always ruining everything for them. So now, when the old horrible man was already lying six feet under, his mother was already halfway to becoming a functioning alcoholic, minus the 'functioning' part.

As he thought about having to see his family, he started to lose sleep. It was his mind’s way of telling him that this was a bad idea. His body would always tell him when something wasn’t right. He’d ‘feel it’ in his bones. Maybe that’s why he was so good at his job. But he had to go home. Not for his mother, but for Sean.

Thinking of his brother, Aaron made it home for the annual roller-coaster ride of the holidays. But Sean had missed out on having a brother for a while there, and now Aaron had come home after five years to find his little brother wasn't the person he left behind. His brother had witnessed as their father health declined and how their mother’s drinking spiraled out of control. He’d never known his father’s wrath, but Sean had known up close how mentally and physically their mother had become. How mean she’d been to the people who loved her the most. How angry. When he got inside the house from the airport, it was silent, cold and tomb-like. He couldn't wait to leave.

On that Christmas Day, events had unfolded as they often did — just another day of the year when they had to tip toe around on egg shells and do everything in our power not to address the elephant in the room: mother’s drinking. The menu for the day apparently was booze for breakfast, lunch, dinner and scotch all the way to bed.

Sean fled to his room as their mother took her third or fourth drink. Aaron knew the feeling of unease all too well. He’d spent the year at university with a written eulogy in his back pocket, waiting for the moment he’d get the call about his mother being dead and hoping that it wouldn’t happen.

So now, as the past and present Aaron Hotchner stood in the street, Hotch, the older one, was already bracing himself for impact. He knew exactly what scene would unfold.

As the younger version of himself stood there, crying, he could see little nine-year-old Sean Hotchner walk up to him, his pajamas a bit too short, a side effect of not having enough money to spend on such things, his hair a mess as per usual. The two brothers sat by each others side in the sidewalk. Like any good children in a broken home, every year they hoped that Christmas would be different, and every year it was the same, except a little worse.

“Is mom going to be okay?” Sean’s small voice asked. Of all the questions Aaron avoided, that one was the hardest.

“I don’t think so, buddy.” He thought back to his mother passed away on her bedroom, the plans for a family dinner long forgotten. Better than to be at found tomorrow morning at a ditch somewhere, on some strangers' house or in the police station.

“Is- Is Santa real?”

“What? No, of course not.” Aaron didn’t even try to hide the sound (something between a laugh and a scoff) that escaped him. “Why are you even asking me this?”

“I… I asked Santa for a nice Christmas dinner this year.” As his brother confessed, he saw the tears on Sean’s face that he was trying to hide.

“Sean… Listen, this is not gonna happen, but it’s not your fault.” Aaron answered. “This is her problem. It is not your job to fix it. It is your job to get on with your life.”

“You say that but you’re the reason our family is like this in the first place. Mom always says you’ve always been a liar. If…” Sean said between sobs. “If you hadn’t been so ungrateful, dad wouldn’t have sent you to boarding school and he’d still be alive and mom wouldn’t be sick!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Aaron hissed. Was his brother angry at him? He was dumbstruck. It simply hadn't occurred to him that Sean would place the blame for all of the family’s problems on him. How could it be that his younger brother’s view of their family was utterly different from his? It was pretty ironic, given the givens. But it made sense, as far as Sean was concerned, if one person could just leave, who was going to disappear next?

“Yes, I do! Why did you leave me? You promised you’d take me with you. Remember?” Sean looked at his older brother, the same look he used to give him when they were younger and fighting. “You didn’t just leave our parents behind. You left me too!”

Aaron cringed - he knew he only had himself to blame for that. It was his fault anyway. Of course it was. But what was he supposed to do? He had no idea how to take care of a child, no financial stability, no place for Sean to sleep. He was just a broke college student.

“I’m sorry, Hotch, I know how you feel about this whole thing.” Shanuessy’s ghost reminded the real Hotch this was just a replay of something he’d already lived through. “It’s not your fault. Sean was just a kid, who was in desperate need of a parental figure. Remind you of anyone?"

“Jack.”

“That’s right.

Overcome with great sadness for the fellow, Tom Shaunessy’s ghost sadly placed a comforting hand on Hotch’s shoulder while he teared up. He stared at the man in pity. “Poor guy. No wonder you’re like that.” Shaunessy’s ghost murmured inaudibly before a final flash from the watch enveloped them and sent Hotch back to the empty office of the BAU…

THE SECOND OF THE THREE SPIRITS

Hotch gasped and woke up with a start, madly twisting his head from left to right in trying to see his surroundings. It was his office, just as he’d left it moments ago.

It hurt to remember those events. They had been locked away in his mind for years. He made a pact with himself, there and then, to never let anything like that happen with Jack. Knowing his son was probably sleep by now, he made a mental note of never again leaving him alone during the holidays. Then, his mind rushes to the other person he can think might needed his company during the holidays.

“Sean…”

Hotch quickly grabs hims phone, staring at the light up screen. His tired eyes have no trouble typing the number, something he’s had to do a handful of times during the years.

He waited nervously for Sean to accept his call. He hadn’t seen his brother in almost five months, much less talked to him. The only contact they’d had were a couple of short messages, nothing really relevant. The phone ringed for a couple of minutes, no answer. Realizing the time must mean that his brother was fast asleep, or, more likely, in some random bar drinking the night away, Hotch decided the phone call would have to take place the next morning.

It was an hour later by this point and Aaron didn't need any convincing to know that there would indeed be another visitor at two. Expecting to see the next Spirit, he was surprised when there was no one there.

His mind wandered back to his colleagues. Did they resent him for being so closed off lately? He thought about you and the forgiveness that had come so easily when he turned down the invitation for the party, even though he knew you must have been hurt.

Then there was the look, the one you had reserved just for him, the one you had shared so many nights together at the office. Was it an expression of affection? Maybe it was more than affection. Anyway, that look frightened him. Because if it meant what he thought it did, there were so many things that could go wrong.

At ten past two, Hotch finally realized that there was light slipping into his office through the space beneath the door. He thought that it might have been there for some time, actually.

He stood up and opened the door, finding the bullpen as empty as it was before. But, upon further inspection, he could see that the source of this ghostly light might be in the conference room, from where it seemed to shine. This idea taking full possession of his mind, he got up softly and shuffled to the door.

The moment Hotch’s hand was on the lock, a familiar voice called him by his name, and told him to open the door. He obeyed.

“This can’t be right…” he mumbled, as he turned on the lights in the room. “Jason? What are you doing here?” He blinked a few times to try to focus harder, but that did nothing to clear the situation up. If anything, he was more confused than before.

“I am the spirit of Christmas present." answered the figure of his former colleague, masquerading as a spirit on one of the strangest nights Hotch’s had in recent memory.

“Wait a second, you’re not dead, are you?” He worried.

“Well, if you bothered to call me once in awhile, you’d know the answer to that.” The spirit of Jason Gideon smiled. “But no, I am not dead. I’m only here for Christmas day.”

Hotch crosses his arms, knitting his brows. “So you’re supposed to show me the present, I take it?”

“Exactly. You’re finally catching up, good.”

“Does that mean we’re staying here?”

“No.” Gideon’s laugh reminding Hotch how he’d missed his former colleague. Even if they weren’t too close, he was nice to have around. “We are going somewhere. It’s not far, though. Ready?”

Hotch nodded and allowed Gideon to guide them into the night. Unsurprisingly, they remained in D.C., going straight to David Rossi’s house. The house was, of course, beautifully decorated. Strands of tinsel and garland wrapped around the columns in the entrance, string lights by the windows, casting a warm glow to the whole house.

"Shall we have a look inside? Something smells good." Hotch sniffed the air, the smell made his mouth water and his stomach rumble. The smell was even better once they were inside.

The table, decorated with branches of holly and ivy, indicated the meal had already been served. Knowing David, there here had been a nice starter and plenty of main courses. By then, though, the table was filled with various deserts, so much that Hotch knew for a fact that most of the team had to sit down for a while, too full to move. He started to seriously consider that Rossi should quit the BAU and open up his own restaurant, so delicious the food looked. He was quick at counting, enough that he quickly saw there was a place set for him as there always had been, every year. A place he had yet to fill since Haley’s death.

The living room was filled with laughter, a roaring fire in the fireplace and music playing - he thought for a moment that it sounded like Andrea Bocelli’s voice - in the background.

On the corner, a very large, way bigger than necessary, Christmas tree stood, piles upon piles of gifts at its feet. From across the room, David Rossi, raised his glass with warm eyes casting upon everyone.

"This calls for the yearly toast, you all! For a lovely Christmas this year!"

Emily joined in. “Dave’s right!" She agreed cheerfully. "Plus it's never a proper Christmas without a toast to somebody!"

"Exactly!" Derek agreed.

"That's right!" said JJ.

"Oh that's a great idea, let's do it." Garcia tipped her head. "Now who are we going to toast for tonight's Christmas?" The team looked at each other in wondering for suggestions until Reid piped up excitedly.

"Oh! I know who we should toast!" The six pairs of eyes focused upon the doctor in eagerness. But then nothing prepared Aaron for what next came from the boy's mouth: "Let's give a toast for Hotch!”

Why was a sense of guilt beginning to work its way into his body? He had no reason to feel guilty. Right?

“I agree, he’s done so much for all of us.” you said, walking back from the kitchen. Hotch took a moment to take you all in. The way the red dress you had changed into hugged you in all the right ways. His eyes never left your face, his attention was purely yours.

“Christmas is a time for joy isn't it? Everyone deserves a little cheer for Christmas! Specially Hotch.” you shrugged, giving a practiced fake smile. What was going on with you? He knew you loved Christmas.

Everyone gave out whoops and cheers of agreement and seconds later, all the hands enclosed around their glasses of prosecco. Derek gave Rossi a nod and the latter raised his glass, beginning the toast. "A toast, to our unit chief Aaron Hotchner. May the spirit of Christmas be with him!"

"To Hotch!”

After the impromptu toast, Aaron could see most of the team had begun drifting towards the makeshift dance floor. Derek and Penelope swaying close together, Spencer and Emily having fun doing silly dances with JJ in-between. Since it was Christmas, there was a lot singing as well. All of them except for Dave, who walked to the kitchen, no doubt starting to clean up a bit. And you.

“Hey guys?” You piped up softly, as you slipped away from the rest of the party. “I’ll be right back.”

He could see how you swiped the bottle of champagne off the table and stalked away. Hotch couldn't stop his own feet, feeling compelled to be near you even though he was supposed to be merely an observer in this scene.

You quietly walked out of the house, sitting down in the steps leading out to the patio, even if they were mostly covered in snow. You finished the champagne in your flute, then started drinking straight from the bottle.

You’d left the door open a crack so that, theoretically, anyone could come in if they wanted to, and Hotch wished he was actually there to tell you to come back inside, lest you catch a cold.

After looking back to make sure no one had followed you, you did something he never would expect. At first, some tears started rolling down your face, as you desperately tried to blink them away. But after failing at holding back a sob, you openly burst into tears. Hotch was taken by surprise. Why were you sad?

“Hey kiddo, what are you doing out here?” Aaron’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, and he saw Rossi walking up to you out of the corner of his eye. “It’s freezing out here.” He said, putting a blanket over your shoulders.

“I’m just getting some air.” You answered, giving him a friendly nod, not willing to move despite the company. You tried to wipe your tears away, plastering a small smile on your face.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing.” You said, shaking your head. "I'm really not good company right now…”

“It’s because of Hotch, isn’t it?”

Hotch felt so horrible, so ungrateful. Maybe that’s why all this was happening: the world was trying to punish him for being this way. And he couldn’t help but feel like he deserved it.

“Take me home.” He told the Spirit, feeling awful. “We’re done here.”

“We’re not.” Gideon shook his head. “You need to see this.”

“No, I don’t.” Hotch whispered, on the edge of having a breakdown as he didn’t want this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He really shouldn’t be listening to a private conversation between you and Rossi, but Hotch couldn’t help but wanting to hear more.

You sighed, knowing the look in David’s eyes all too well. The pity. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend to care,” you murmured.

“Please, we all do care about you. Some more than you’d imagine. Just tell me what it’s going on.”

“Sorry, I’m just having a really bad time wrapping my mind around how he’s been acting lately.” You paused, before letting out a heavy sigh and beginning. “I know I have no reason to feel hurt, but I just can’t shake the feeling that I must have done something wrong, to push him away.”

“C’mon, you must know why he’s been acting like that. You’re a profiler, after all.”

“I mean, I know the holidays can be stressful, so I figured that was it. But surely not enough for him to be gutted all day and chose to spend it alone at the office. What do you think is upsetting him?”

“Are you serious?” Rossi sputtered, before seeing the look you gave him. “Well, it’s been like that every December…” Rossi started. “Ever since Haley’s death. You know he doesn’t really like to talk much about it.”

“Oh, God, I’m an idiot.” You sobbed, feeling like the most selfish fool on the planet. “I’ve been making this up to be about me when Hotch is out there dealing with his grief over his ex-wife.”

“When were you going to tell him?” Rossi asked, obviously trying not to smirk.

"I'm... I'm sorry?"

“I might not have been successful with my marriages, but I know love when I see it. So, when were you going to tell Hotch how you felt about him?”

“I wasn’t planning on telling him. He’s dealing with so much, the last thing he needs is a coworker with a stupid unrequited crush on him.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s unrequited.” Of course, David Rossi would know all about Hotch’s feelings before even himself did. “Let me guess: something about him being you boss, something about you being afraid to ruin things, yada yada.” Rossi said, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Guilty as charged.” You held up your hands in surrender. “But I can’t, Rossi. I’m too much of a coward to tell him how I feel. Honestly, I think it would be best if I could put my feelings aside… Why can’t I stop?”

Hotch practically collapsed as you said this. His knees gave in and he had to make an effort to keep standing. He couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open. He wasn’t sure what knocked the wind out of him more - your confession of love or the deep anguish in your voice. It was so obvious to him now.

“The heart wants what it wants, kiddo.” Rossi stated. As simple as that.

“The funny thing is I know Hotch would handle it gracefully. He’d reject me with kindness. He has such a good heart and he can be so thoughtful. I don’t know why he tries to hide it.” You said, sounding wistful and sad. “I don’t know what to do, Dave.”

“Did you not hear anything I said? You should tell him how you feel, that’s what you should do.” David stood up, brushing the snow off his pants. “You take all the time you need, okay? I’ll get everything to make up the couch. You shouldn’t drive in such state.”

“I’m fine, Dave.”

“Nonsense.” Rossi spoke as gently as possible.

You gave a faint smile, wrapping the blanket tightly around you. “Thank you, Dave. For the blanket and for caring enough to listen…”

“You're welcome" Rossi smiled. “Alright I gotta circulate, catch you later.”

As you stood there catching your breath, Hotch looked to Gideon, who smiled, the same face he used to have whenever the team reached a conclusion long after him.

“What is this, pity? You feel sorry for me, so you’re showing me what I want to hear?”

“No. Of course not. I have no control over what you’re seeing. Everything is true.”

“Why did you show me this, then?” Hotch’s voice trembled.

“Because you deserve to know the truth. Maybe knowing she returns your affection will help you act on your feelings.”

“She never told me she felt like that.” Hotch tried to defend himself, as Gideon’s spirit began to walk away. He caught up quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I had no idea, I swear.”

“Why are you so scared of being happy?” Gideon asked him. Hotch’s breath quickened and he looked away, not sure if he had an actual answer.

“Because I… I don’t deserve to be.” Maybe, it was because, deep inside, he was convinced that admitting how he was in love with you would be a crime. An act so selfish, preventing you from meeting whatever better man you might have found if he hadn’t stepped in. Forget that - it would be the most narcissistic thing he had ever done. Because if he had you, he’d never let you go.

“Oh, Hotch, you always were so harsh on yourself. You deny so much of yourself, hoping it will cure things faster. But it doesn’t work, does it? No. The only way that we can find happiness and peace is if we throw ourselves out into the open. Do it. Throw yourself. Do not attempt to feel nothing so as not to feel anything.”

The shorter man looked up at the him, trying to read the expression and thoughts of the man before him. Hotch felt like the answers to a thousand questions had been answered yet more had appeared in their place. Was he really wasting the opportunity of being happy with you just because he was afraid?

“I’m afraid our time is up. I hope for your sake you’ve truly paid attention. The next ghost won’t be so kind. If you listen to any of us tonight, listen to him.”

Suddenly, everything went black and Hotch was back at Quantico, sitting in his couch. Gideon had left him with a warning. What was the last ghost going to show him?

He remembered the gift you’d given him. What was it? He supposed he might as well open it and see. He opened the box, only to find a pair of tickets for an live orchestral presentation of The Beatles White Album. He flipped them over, then back again. Of course you’ve bought them. The perfect gift. There was two tickets, though. Had you intended for the two of you to go together? He quickly saw that the box also had a note, written in your calligraphy.

Dear Hotch,

John Lennon wrote that we need to learn to love ourselves first, in all our glory and our imperfections. I hope this holiday season you find the strength and healing we all need in our line of work. Without you, this team would not be called a family. You complete our lives. Thanks for your support, guidance, and care.

Merry Christmas xx

THE LAST OF THE THREE SPIRITS

Before he had time to react, the clock struck three in the morning.

Hotch looked about for the ghost, but he didn’t see it. He then decided to lift his eyes, and there it were the ghost, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him.

Approaching the figure, his gait began to falter as he saw that a deep black garment concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. No. No no no. This couldn’t be the third spirit. He felt a chill course through his spine.

“Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?”

The ghost didn’t reply, but it simply nodded.

“You are here to show me my future, I presume.” The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant in its folds, as if the spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer he received.

The Phantom moved away as it had come towards him. Scrooge followed in the shadow of its dress, which bore him up, he thought, and carried him along.

The ghost walked up to the mural at the entrance of the BAU, right next to the elevators, where the wall of honor where there was pictures of all the fallen agents. He saw Anderson and an intern he didn’t recognize, probably from another floor. Anderson was putting a new photo in the wall, but Hotch couldn’t see it from where he was standing.

“No,” said Anderson, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know much about it, either way. I only know he’s dead.”

“When did he die?” inquired the intern.

“Last night, I believe.” He replied as he wiped beneath his eye with his knuckles.

“Why, what was the matter with him?” asked Gina Sharp, stopping by the two of them. “I thought he’d never die.”

“God knows,” said Anderson.

“What about the Behavioral Analysis Unit?” asked the intern.

“I haven’t heard yet, but they will find someone to replace him.” said Anderson again. “Maybe Rossi will take over, perhaps. Or maybe Prentiss. No one has notified me. That’s all I know.”

“It’ll likely be a very cheap funeral,” said Gina. “I heard he didn’t leave any family behind.”

“Just his son, Jack, and a brother, I think.” answered Anderson.

The group quickly dispersed, going back to their jobs. Hotch knew them, and looked towards the ghost for an explanation.

The ghost glided on into the bullpen. Its finger pointed to Hotch’s office. Hotch walked up to his door, listening again, thinking that the explanation might lie here.

He looked around to find Emily sitting in his chair, and though the clock pointed to his usual time of day for being there, he saw no likeness of himself among the multitudes that poured in through the office. It didn’t surprise him, he supposed one day he’d eventually retire, opting for going back to practicing law or only sticking to teaching negotiation techniques at the Academy. Emily looked tired, purpling bags forming under her eyes and at least a handful of grey hairs on her head.

She quickly stood up, walking past Aaron and the ghost and going up to David’s office. “We’ve got a new case, a child abduction. So far, only one victim, but seeing as we are short two pair of hands now I really need you to go. Are you okay with that?” Emily started and David looked up, and she returned his gaze with a gentle calmness.

“Sure. It’s what he’d have wanted.” Rossi replied, hiding a few stray tears. “One last rodeo, then. Next week will be my last with the team.”

Emily turned to face the rest of the team: “Conference room in five.” she called to the bullpen, a hush falling over the office as everyone paused to listen.

And like that, all of the familiar faces were moving slowly, Prentiss, Morgan and JJ found their way to the conference room.

Garcia was wearing all black, a sight never seen before at the office, not masking the pain in her eyes. Reid followed soon behind her, hunching as he walked, as if folding in on himself. Hotch noticed there was no sign of you. He looked over to the ghost, who stood still. He supposed he still needed to hear whatever was about to happen.

In the conference room, two chairs remained empty. “I just can’t believe it.” said JJ.

“I know, to think if I had stopped by his office, if I had insisted that he should join us for the party, and now…” Garcia said, breaking off in another round of sobs, and Hotch could feel his heart tearing to pieces. What happened to his team?

“You don’t have to tell me, baby girl.” Derek said, sounding sympathetic. “None of us saw it coming until it was too late to stop it.”

“So, have all of you given some thought to what we discussed? Sabbaticals, transfers, reassignments. All of you have options if you chose to no longer be part of the unit.”

A chorus of yes was heard around the room.

Rossi stood up: “I have told you all, I’m choosing to go back into retirement. After… after all that happened, I’m not ready to go back into the field.”

“Of course.” JJ said. “I’ll be taking a sabbatical to be with my family, I think it’s something important for me.”

As she said, this, you appeared at the room. Hotch had never seen you like this, wearing an old t-shirt from the FBI Academy and sweatpants. “I’m sorry for being so late.”

“It’s okay, we all understand.” Emily said.

As the photos of the next case were being shown, Hotch turned to the ghost. “I don’t understand. What has happened?” he demanded. “Why are you showing me this? Who is the person they’re talking about? Am I in danger of sharing his fate? Of losing everything? Is that it?”

Nothing. Instead, the spirit turned back toward the doorway, Hotch falling into step behind it, and followed it through to the unknown. The scene around them changed and Hotch found himself standing in an open field.

The spirit was as silent as ever. Hotch followed it as they reached an iron gate. He paused to look round before entering. A graveyard. The ground was covered in snow, but he could see it was overrun by grass and weeds, the growth of vegetation’s death, not life.

His mind quickly jumped to conclusions. Oh, no. He looked at the ghost for an explanation. The spirit was standing among the graves, and pointed down to one in particular. Hotch felt the blood in his veins turn into ice.

Aaron sank to his knees, one hand coming up to brush away the layer of snow that had blown up against it. “Aaron Joseph Hotchner. Father, brother, and friend. 1970-2018. Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity.”

“No…” he moaned. “No… it can’t be. It’s not supposed to be like this, it can’t be like this!” Choking back a second sob, he rested his head against the marble.

“Who are you?!” he demanded, anger and panic and anguish bubbling up in his chest and threatening to drown him. “Only cowards hide their faces, so remove your helmet and show me your face!”

The ghost watched him silently. Taking off its hood, Aaron Hotchner felt all the air leave out his lungs as he looked at his very own face.

“No, it can’t be. How can you be me?!”

“I’m not you.” the ghost said in a voice that sounded too much like his. “I’m the Ghost of Christmases Yet to Come. I’m here to show you the future consequences of your actions.” The face before Hotch was a blank mask as he delivered his prophecy. No emotion, no inflection, the effect reminding him too much of the day where George Foyet appeared in his apartment.

“Wait!” he yelled, “ Wait! This is not how my life it’s supposed to end! Let me put things right!” but the fog was growing thicker, obscuring the spirit from view. He was running, lungs burning in the cold air as he rushed through the cemetery.

He faltered, falling into his knees, sobs overtaking him. He collapsed, as his surroundings changed once again. Instantly, he was back at the office.

THE END OF IT

Yes! He was back at his makeshift bed, in his empty office and he was the happiest he’d ever been. Not knowing what hour it was, he walked into the bullpen and was now standing there: perfectly winded.

"I don't know what day of the month it is," said Hotch. "I don't know how long I have been among the Spirits. I don't know"

Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. The sun shined bright outside, the air was clear and cold, he could fill the blood pumping through his veins. Best and happiest of all, the time before him was his own, to make amends in!

He walked into the corridor, bumping with Anderson, who carried a pile of files. “What’s today?” Hotch asked.

"Eh?" returned Anderson, very confused. If there was one person he could always count on to know the day, it was Agent Anderson.

"What's today?" repeated Hotch, with such a happy mood he could not remember the last time he had felt this happy.

“Well, it’s Christmas Day."

"Christmas Day! Thank you, Anderson. You can have the full holiday off, spend however you want.” Hotch smiled.

"Are you serious?"

“Yes! Go, go, I’ll take care of things around here.” he ushered the younger man out the door. "I haven't missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course, they can. Of course, they can." said Hotch to himself. Turning back and rushing back to his office, he slammed the door behind him. He threw himself into his couch and starred at the clock. It was just past 8 in the morning. He felt too wired to try and sleep, even though he was sure he hadn’t slept at all that night.

“My brother.” he exclaimed, frantically looking for his phone. The device light up, and he saw there were a couple of missed calls.

After talking to his brother, which was “fine, thank you very much, are you sure you’re okay, Aaron?” and making sure Jack was having a great time with his grandfather and aunt - even asking if he could stay there another day, he stood at his desk, not sure what else to do.

Apologies didn’t seem fitting to be said over the phone. You needed to know how much you meant to him, in person.

Rossi wasn’t sure what surprised him most: that it was Hotch knocking at his door just as brunch began, or that he had a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Now that he was face to face with the older agent, he wasn’t sure what to do, looking slightly abashed.

“Good morning, Dave. Does the invite still stand? I thought about it, and I…” he took a deep breath. “I’d really like to celebrate with you guys for a while, if that’s okay.”

“I see no reason why not. You’re part of the team, after all.” Rossi said, pulling Aaron into a backslapping hug. “Just keep it quiet, okay? Things got a bit carried away in the alcohol department last night.”

“Sure, you won’t even hear my presence.”

“Don’t overdo it, Aaron.” Rossi said, beckoning him into the house.

You suddenly appeared, hair a complete mess and mascara blurred. You looked perfect in Hotch’s opinion. He eyed you in your red dress, smiling to himself as if were part of an inside joke.

“Hotch? Is everything alright? Have we got a case?” you asked, stifling a yawn. He couldn’t help but giggle. Aaron Hotchner actually giggled.

He drew the bouquet from behind his back, holding them up as one did in a romantic comedy. “Hi,” he exhaled, giving you a boyish smile. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you returned automatically, then looked up at him in confusion. “Is that for… me?”

“Yes, I didn’t know what kind of flower you wanted, so I just got a bunch of them.” He looked up at you with wonder in his eyes, and you felt like the air had been knocked out of you.

You laughed and thanked him, but something still plagued you. “Hotch?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you here?” His eyes softened a bit, and he looked at you once more. Then, something new flickered across his face. Determination. He met your eyes.

“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable but I have to be completely honest with you. I can’t keep denying what I’m feeling.”

“And what is that?” you asked, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“That I’m in love with you.” he said.

“You love me?” You asked.

“I do. And I know it’s wrong, I’m your boss, we work together. But I can’t help how I feel. And I know I have the worst possible timing in the world but-“ You shut him up with your lips. Hotch was caught by surprise but you felt him relax as you brought your hands up to his neck.

He pulled away to catch his breath, looking deep into your eyes. “You’re beautiful in the morning, you know that?”

“You’re a tease, Aaron Hotchner.” you laughed. “And I’m in love with you too.”

“So, what do you say about going to that concert with me?”

“I’d like that. I’ve…wanted that from you for a while. Took you long enough.”

“I know. But you mean so much to me, I’m hoping to make up for it.”

“You better.” you smiled again, that same little smile that was reserved for him, and he felt a pleased flush of warmth this time, spreading from his middle outward to his extremities, “but what brought all this on?”

Aaron huffed and pressed his forehead to yours. “Let’s just say I had some… interesting visitors last night.”

The two pressed together in a kiss, full of promises and potential. In the background, the BAU team cheered, for once in his life, Aaron Hotchner had a real shot at long-lasting happiness.

THE END

#cat writes #12 days of christmas #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner angst #tw: childhood trauma #tw: alcohol #cw: mentions of violence #cw: child neglect #aaron hotchner needs a hug #angst with happy ending #inspired by a christmas carol #past haley brooks x aaron hotchner

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yamigooops · 2 years

Note

Hey I know you beta’d for Gnarlypunkassbitch for Our Enigma. I noticed she’s deleted her ao3 account and her Twitter, do you know what happened or if she’s ok?

Omg yes! Ok so she DMed me before deleting and let me know that she’s had some ongoing issues with both her physical and mental health. I’ve known about them for a little while, as that is the reason she hasn’t updated the story since like February I think?

Essentially she had been feeling a tremendous amount of pressure over not having the time, energy, or inspiration to write and/or update the story. Despite readers’ support and reassurance for her to take her time and prioritize her wellbeing, as writers online we can often get caught up in the trap of thinking that just because we have a story that might be successful, which I would absolutely consider OE successful with tens of thousands of reads, we have to update on a constant schedule or our readers are going to get mad.

I know when she first started it she updated regularly, but from what I know it was supposed to end a while ago but she kept extending it bc readers wanted more. She eventually had to prioritize her well-being over the story, since she lost inspiration. And while this happened a few weeks ago, she still felt the pressure from AO3 and Twitter, so she decided that a full cleanse would be best for her.

However, we are still in contact, so she hasn’t completely vanished. I’ve emailed her in response to the DMs she sent me before leaving Twitter, and expressed my support for her to take care of herself first. She did say in the DMs that she may come back and repost the story in the future after she’s worked on herself, but that’s completely up to her. I do still have the beta read documents, and she still has the originals, so the story still exists, just not publicly right now. I was also talking with her about releasing a podfic of the story, though I hadn’t planned to even start recording it until October.

As of right now, she hasn’t responded. I emailed her on April 6th when she left, so it hasn’t been super long since then. But I expressed that she didn’t have to respond or anything if she needed a full cleanse from everything. Though I did express that I was sending her good vibes and thoughts, as well as my willingness to act as a channel for her to communicate with all the fans of OE in order to update you all on her state, as well as share your support and love for her.

I just feel so incredibly privileged to have been a part of this story, even if the work I did never got shared publicly. Because I got to become friends with a generous, kind-hearted, marvelously talented woman, while also sharpening my editing skills at the same time. Like I literally kept a cry count throughout this fuckin fic and the first read through I cried 15 times, and by the end of the beta it was up to 27. If a writer is able to make you cry even when you know what’s coming next? That’s true mastery in my opinion. So like wow. I just…. I’ll never shut up about this fic y’all. Never ever. I wish I could share the beta docs so y’all could still read it, but that would be a breach of her trust since she took it down publicly and hasn’t responded to my message yet. So I unfortunately won’t be doing that.

I’m also honored that people have come to me to ask after her. Like wowza. I’ve had numerous people do so, and I just can’t get over it. The love that has already been shown just in the past 6 days is astonishing. She impacted so many in such a profound way, and I am more than happy to act as a bridge to you all now. Though I will say that if you’d like to send her love and/or we’ll wishes that I won’t be contacting her again until she responds to me. Because we all need to respect her journey to healing, and if that means never hearing from her again, I hope you’re all willing to accept that and still wish her well.

So really all we can do now is sit together in our love for her and the story, send her positive energy in her road toward healing, and cross our fingers that she will one day bring this masterpiece back to life. But the decision is completely up to her, and I hope you’ll all support her just as much as I do. Keep an eye out for her possible return, maybe check like once every month or two. I will also make an announcement if she does return, so let’s do what we can right now to get her those good, healing vibes 🥰🥲

Below are my true feelings regarding the (hopefully temporary) loss of this absolutely incredible writer and friend:

Also. I haven’t gotten to freak out about OE with anyone but Gnarly since none of my friends read it so like….. y’all should tell me your favorite part and I will share mine bc like wowowoowowowow whatta fuckin masterpiece 😤🥲

#cel sobs #cel speaks #anonie #I’m literally so sad about it though #like fr I genuinely miss her #gnarly if you’re seeing this don’t feel bad #but also like….#we will be welcoming you back with open arms #i thank you all so much for the support and love you’ve shown her #well #I suppose I’m thanking you on her behalf :’)#our enigma #our enigma bakugou #our enigma fanfic #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #ao3 bakugou #bakugou x reader

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ladyartemesia · 3 years

Text

The Praetor

◐ PART VI of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: sexual content including grinding and marking, some light (and totally consensual) manhandling, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming. Violence and discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries

Special Note: Yoonji and Yunli are NOT the same person. Yoonji is Yoongi and Yunli’s cousin. She is sometimes affectionately called “Ji-ah.”

Word Count: 5500 (wow)

Author’s Note: Life has been really hard. I won’t beat around the bush. It was hard to do anything... but your kind words and support really kept me going. Truly you guys straight up manifested this chapter with your incredible support. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @underthejoon were the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life!

“Alpha.”

Namjoon’s voice echoed through the clearing with profound resonance.

There would be no more fighting.

There would be no more doubt.

It was a complete surrender, the kind only a true Alpha could compel.

A frantic whimper suddenly split the air, drawing every eye to you-

But you saw only him.

“Untie me,” you pleaded, struggling impatiently against the restraints.

One of the elders moved to release you, but before she could, Jin produced a knife and cut you free with the kind of terrifying precision expected of a man who was every bit as deadly as he was beautiful.

Then you were running - and this time, no one could stop you.

Your body crashed into his and fiery joy shot through you as he pulled you into his arms.

His scent wrapped around your senses like a warm blanket, covering the fear and pain of the past days in unimaginable relief.

“Jimin.”

“I’m here. I have you,” he whispered.

Your entire frame seemed to shake as you sobbed against his chest. It was as if you could not draw close enough - could not hold tight enough - to be satisfied. Part of you was still terrified that you would wake up and discover that all of this had been a dream...

Then you heard it.

Another set of knees hitting the ground.

“Alpha.”

Then another-

“Alpha.“

And another

“Alpha.”

Till the air was filled with hundreds of voices, all speaking the same word.

“Alpha.”

Namjoon remembered very little of what happened after his surrender...

Just pain.

His limbs seemed oddly disconnected from the rest of his body. There was blood everywhere (and he was reasonably sure it was his).

He knew he should feel defeated, broken - ashamed even.

Instead he felt strangely...

Light.

As if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders.

The last thing he saw before losing consciousness entirely was Yunli’s tear-stained gaze - still fixed on him - even as the others turned to face their new Alpha.

He breathed out her name in a quiet, desperate plea as the darkness overtook him.

Jimin was only in your arms a few moments before healers and half the elder’s council came rushing forward on all sides.

You snarled instinctively at the first elder who tried to collect him, but a healer eventually got close enough to reason with you after pointing out that the wound on his shoulder could possibly become infected if left untreated for much longer.

An Alpha’s injuries always took the highest priority, but Jimin directed them all toward Namjoon, brushing away anyone who attempted to tend to him.

By that point Jin and your mother had found their way to your side and were gently trying to pull you back - even as more elders reached for your mate.

Everyone was speaking at once - words about preparations and plans and ceremonies - but none of it registered over the waves of frantic adrenaline still pounding through your system.

You didn’t know what they wanted or why they were so close-

just that they were trying to take him away again.

No.

Suddenly a senior elder placed his hand on Jimin’s forearm and your wolf snapped entirely.

Omegas were known for their speed and as a Luna, yours was unparalleled.

Two council members and a healer went flying into the dirt within the space of a single second as your body instinctively assumed a defensive stance. The remaining elders stumbled back in alarm and your mother fainted dead away forcing Jin to catch her rather inelegantly.

Your canines began to lengthen as you pressed your back to the Alpha, letting primal rage guide your movements.

They had tied you up.

Forced you to watch as he was attacked again and again and again-

An omega would defend their mate to the death and you had spent days knowing he was in danger...

Feeling powerless, feeling paralyzed-

Your wolf had simply had enough.

“Luna please-“ the chief elder began cautiously, but you cut him off with warning growl and lunged - fully prepared to end the next person who attempted to separate you from-

Strong arms closed around you, pulling you back to the comforting warmth that enveloped you moments ago.

Jimin.

“Luna,” he whispered against your skin and you shivered, letting your eyes flutter shut.

Then you felt it.

The gentle pressure of the Alpha - your mate - nosing softly at your neck.

It was a gesture of soothing affection.

Of gratitude.

Slowly he turned you in his arms till you were facing him once again. The fire in your blood began to fade as you simply took him in, struck by the sensual beauty of his face and the possessive heat in his gaze.

“So fierce,” he hummed, tilting his head so you could bury yourself in his scent once more. His hands brushed soothing circles over your back, leaving delicious sparks of pleasure in their wake.

“I’m safe,” he promised as you nuzzled into him needily. “You can rest now...”

The pleasant pull of his command wove heavily through your senses. You felt your feet leave the ground as he lifted you fully into his arms...

Then you slipped into a blissful sleep.

The healers worked for hours on Namjoon.

Some betas were blessed with minor healing abilities - a valuable gift stemming from a type of energy transference. He could feel the heat of their hands as they poured themselves - literally - into mending his battered body.

His ribs were set and wrapped tightly and the swelling and bruising were already beginning to fade due to the assortment of vile tasting herbal concoctions they insisted on ramming down his throat.

Accelerated healing and potent herbal intervention truly went a long way, but it would take time and rest to restore him fully.

Despite his lingering soreness, Namjoon was finally lucid enough to think for the first time since the fight and there was certainly a wealth of things to think about…

Yet his mind kept going back to that moment-

To her.

“Kim Namjoon.”

Every hair on his body raised to attention.

“Alpha-”

He struggled to pull himself upright, but Jimin placed a hand on his arm to still him.

“Please,” he spoke softly, “let me sit. I’ve caused you enough trouble for one day.”

A painful chuckle stuttered out of Namjoon and he shook his head.

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that? We both know this is entirely my fault.”

Jimin’s eyes dropped in reluctant amusement..

“You think rather highly of yourself,” he said with a barely perceptible grin, echoing his words in the chief elder’s chambers a day - a lifetime - ago. “I believe I had something to do with it as well.”

Namjoon laughed and winced immediately. He rubbed gingerly over the binding on his ribs before voicing the question that had plagued him from the moment he awoke.

“How quickly?”

The Alpha tilted his head in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“How quickly,” Namjoon grunted, pulling himself to an upright position, “could you have killed me?”

There was a strange sort of acceptance in his eyes, a profound and untainted respect that Jimin was wholly unused to receiving from a man like him.

It was equal parts humbling and overwhelming.

“The first hit... a little to the left - at full force - would have fractured your sternum and penetrated your heart. You’d have been dead in a matter of minutes.”

Namjoon was silent for a long time.

“Why did you spare me? ...I challenged you, threatened you, intended to lay claim to your mate which-” he rubbed idly at the back of his neck, “I’m beginning to understand is enough to enrage any man… So why am I still here?”

“Because,” Jimin sighed, “apparently I think very highly of you too, Kim Namjoon.”

“Well… I’m flattered, but I - I still don’t understand… I’ve done nothing but underestimate you. Most wolves would have made an example of me.”

“Oh I intend to make an example of you,” Jimin smiled and Namjoon felt his blood run cold for the briefest instant, “but not in the way you’re thinking.”

The Alpha’s eyes took on a strangely solemn light. “I have no intention of ruling through fear and violence.”

After a moment, his gaze met Namjoon’s again.

“You were right… Without your challenge, the pack would never have trusted my leadership. You were the obvious choice to be Alpha and without defeating you decisively, they would always look to you as an alternative.”

Namjoon eyed his collection of injuries sardonically.

“Something tells me you won’t have that issue now.”

“And I have you to thank for that.”

“So … you spared my life in gratitude?”

“I spared your life because it was well worth sparing. You have always led your clan with honor and dignity. You don’t strike me as someone who enjoys killing, yet you were willing to do so for the good of our people. Such a man is a far better example alive than he is dead.”

Namjoon could not help but be impressed by the younger alpha’s insight and perception.

Our goddess has chosen well.

“I am grateful for your mercy, Alpha... Though I’m sure there are some who believe I should have chosen death over the disgrace of defeat.”

Jimin’s jaw clenched. .

“Defeat is not a disgrace. I have learned some of my greatest lessons from it. Defeat is often a vital stop on the path to victory.”

The elder alpha grinned.

“I wouldn’t know. This is the first time I’ve lost.”

Jimin laughed and Namjoon’s impish smile suddenly became oddly serious.

“I want you to know… You have my loyalty - without question - and not simply because you spared me. It is clear that you were meant to lead.”

A subtle hint of awe crept into his tone as he continued.

“Honestly… I’ve only ever heard stories of primal alphas. I never thought I’d meet one,” he snorted, “or be foolish enough to fight him.“

Jimin drew back in confusion.

“I’m not familiar- ...I’ve never heard of a primal alpha.”

“Really?... Well ...I suppose that makes sense. I forgot how often you skipped camp.” He sighed and shifted into a more comfortable position before answering.

“A primal alpha is goddess-blessed. They cannot be compelled. Their command is powerful enough to compel members of other packs and even non-wolves. It is a rare gift.”

Jimin’s face easily betrayed his shock.

“I-...That’s-” he shook his head. “Why do you believe I have such a gift?”

“I suppose the first hint should have been your coloring. Silver wolves are never born to mundane destinies... But the real proof is in your eyes.” Namjoon leaned back against the headboard, quietly reliving the moment he discovered the depth of Jimin’s ability. “When you commanded me to yield, your eyes flashed gold. It’s the true sign of a primal alpha... of a king.”

King.

The word fell heavily between them.

A human king was a politician, a figurehead whose power became more symbolic as the ages passed.

But to the wolf nations, a king - an Alpha - was the heart of their pack. A warrior who bore the burden of leadership alongside his Luna.

The power of a wolf king was quite real.

The Alpha shifted uncomfortably

“I never thought I would be a king.”

“And I never thought I wouldn’t be.” His eyes dropped to his hands. “I’m not quite sure what I am anymore.”

“Perhaps I can help with that.”

Namjoon’s gaze met his with cautious curiosity.

“Oh?”

“You said yourself I skipped Alpha camp every year. I may have been destined to lead, but I won’t pretend that I’m completely prepared for it.”

All at once Namjoon realized why Jimin was there.

The transfer of power was a long and intricate process that should remain essentially uninterrupted until its completion.

There could only be one reason the Alpha had come to his bedside.

He was here to appoint his Praetor.

A Praetor wielded nearly as much authority as the Alpha. In terms of pack hierarchy, only the Alpha outranked him (or her). The commitment required was immense. Their role encompassed everything from ‘chief advisor’ to ‘the last line of defense.’

Praetor were expected to cut all obligations to their own clan and serve only the Alpha. They were an extension of his authority and vision. It was a lifetime appointment which could be extremely dangerous (depending on the number of territorial disputes one’s pack might be involved in).

If anything were to happen to the Alpha, a Praetor would assume the responsibility of protecting the Luna and ruling by her side (without any romantic obligations as Praetor often had their own mates) until their death.

“What about Taehyung?”

Jimin shrugged.

“What about him? I assure you, he has no interest in this at all.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides, he serves me well as a best friend... A Praetor must be willing to disagree with me from time to time without worrying too much about my feelings. They must be in tune with the needs of the pack. Kim Taehyung is a good man… but he isn’t the right one. Not for this.”

The elder alpha considered his next words carefully.

“What you’re asking is no small request.”

“True,” Jimin nodded, “but how about this…” he grinned mischievously, “I promise to put in a good word for you with Min Yoongi when he finds out what you’ve done to his little sister.”

“I haven’t done anything to his little sister.”

“Yet.”

Namjoon cleared his throat guiltily.

“You realize this means we’ll have to talk every single day.”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the good of the pack.”

Namjoon laughed and Jimin smiled back, more sure than ever that he was making the right choice.

After a moment the Alpha held out his hand in an age old ceremonial gesture and finally voiced the question he had come to ask.

“Kim Namjoon, will you forsake your place in the clan of your blood to serve your Alpha and your pack as Praetor. Will you protect my blood as your own and fight by my side till the paths of our lives be complete?

Namjoon’s gaze locked with his as their palms met, letting the force of his resolve color each word.

“I swear it shall be so.”

It was well past noon when you stumbled from your bedroom to find Jin spread luxuriously over your kitchen island, popping berries into his mouth like a debauched satyr.

“I feel very odd…” you yawned, “almost like I-”

“Attacked half the elders council in a fit of horny rage?”

Your jaw dropped.

“I did no such thing!” A few choice memories began to flood back and your staunch defensive tirade stuttered in shock. “Wait...Did I-”

“You did.”

“I wouldn’t call it horny rage,” you muttered, massaging your temples as you struggled to process your own actions.

“I don’t know, the whole thing looked very horny to me.”

“Everything looks horny to you.”

Jin grinned but didn’t bother denying it.

“What do you remember?”

“I remember…” you pulled a water bottle from the fridge and took a long drink before answering,”...Jimin’s victory... People kept trying to take him away and then-”

Heat streaked across the back of your neck as you recalled the press of his lips on your skin.

“Oh...”

You shivered deliciously.

Jin sighed. “Yes, you were quite the spectacle. Who knows how many throats you would have ripped out if the Alpha had not intervened.”

“Oh goddess,” you moaned, burying your face in your hands. “He probably thinks I’m a lunatic.”

Jin rolled his eyes.

“I wonder if there is a celestial punishment for smacking the Luna upside the head.”

“Punishable by death - for sure,” you pouted, “and why would you even want to do that?”

“Because you’re an idiot. The man risked his life for you in ritual combat and then carried you home in his arms all the way from the sacred circle like a fairy tale princess.”

“He... he did?”

Your cousin nodded and tossed another berry in his mouth.

“The whole scene was so disgustingly romantic. I would have swooned if I wasn’t left to haul your mother back. Honestly I think I threw out my back.”

“And - and the pack?”

“They were free to swoon since they weren’t carrying your mother and most of them did. The man has become a bit of a legend already. Namjoon is one of the strongest alphas in the mountain kingdoms and Park Jimin dispatched him like it was nothing.” He paused to dab berry juice off his absurdly full lips. “I’d be surprised if every pack for a hundred miles hasn’t heard about it by now.”

“How is Namjoon?”

“Alive. He will make a full recovery.”

You sighed in relief. Truly, you had no desire to mate with the Kim alpha, but (despite the grumbling of your bloodthirsty wolf) you never wanted him dead.

Not to mention the loss of Namjoon would have cast a heavy shade over Jimin’s leadership. He was wise to spare him.

“Where is he? I want to see him.”

“Namjoon is with the healers-”

“Kim Seokjin,” you bopped him with your now empty water bottle. “I am obviously not talking about Namjoon. Where is my mate?!”

“Calm down, cousin. You’re getting that throat-rippy gleam in your eye again and I’m far too beautiful to go out like that.”

He reached for another berry.

“I need to see him.”

You were already marching toward the door when Jin yanked you back. It was always a surprise to see how fast he could move when he wanted to.

“My dear sweet Luna, you have one murderous rampage and forget all about our tedious traditions. The elders will be drowning him in the preparations and expectations of leadership for at least another ten hours.”

None of Jin’s sensible reminders mattered the least bit to your wolf. She was already suggesting all sorts of reasons you should just march into the council chambers and take him.

Park Jimin was yours.

You’ve waited long enough.

Your hand tightened on the doorknob.

“He left something for you.”

Kim Seokjin really was a wickedly clever man. He knew exactly which cards to play and exactly when to play them.

Your heart stuttered wildly in your chest as Jin nodded toward a small box on the table.

“He sent Taehyung to drop it off not long after the elders dragged him away from your bedside.”

If you had even an ounce of dignity left, you might have been embarrassed by how quickly you scrambled over to the gift, but you were well past caring about such things when it came to him.

Your cousin shook his head as you eagerly tore into the wrapping, impatient to discover what he could have possibly-

You gasped.

There, laying nestled in an ornate wooden box with a lavish blue satin interior, was the most beautiful pair of gloves you had ever seen…

Your fingers reached out to brush the soft white leather, custom stitched with intricately embroidered vines that wound around a beautiful silver wolf.

“They’re exquisite.”

Jim’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“They’re not just exquisite, they’re one of a kind.” His fingers traced over the emblem on the box. “This is the mark of the Bangtan Leatherworkers Guild. Every one of their pieces is unique.”

Your head tilted curiously as Jin began to lift back the satin lining.

“What are you doing?”

“You can only buy their merchandise directly from the shop in Seoul. There’s no way he could have gotten these today.”

“R...Really?”

Jin nodded.

“I’m about to find out for sure. Each piece produced by the guild comes with a certification. It includes the date of manufacture and the date of sale.”

After a moment he withdrew a small card embossed with gold writing.

“Well... what does it say?” you pressed impatiently.

An odd little smile drifted across Jin’s lips as he considered the information in his hands.

“These gloves were sold to Park Jimin three years ago... a few days before your 17th birthday.”

Min Yunli slept for most of the day after Taehyung brought her home.

The Alpha ordered his second to secure her and see to her safety not long after lifting the Luna into his arms.

In the end, Tae had to compel her again.

She fought to stay near Namjoon, but he needed medical attention and there was no real reason to allow her any access to the fallen alpha.

She had no claim on him.

She was nothing to him.

Nothing at all.

When she finally opened her eyes the sun was already dipping low on the horizon and the world around her was dim.

Aching emptiness sat heavily in her chest. The Change was another six days away which meant the connection between her consciousness and her wolf was not fully solidified… but she could still feel acidic pain of rejection festering in both halves of her heart.

Tears fell silently down her cheek as she considered her actions and what the consequences might be.

Namjoon probably hated her now. She had ruined everything for him.

An angry growl rumbled up from her stomach.

Yunli snorted humorously and shrugged off her dirty clothes, throwing on an oversized t-shirt before trudging out to the refrigerator.

Of all the problems she was facing, hunger was the easiest to fix.

“Do you normally walk around without pants?”

She just barely bit back a scream.

There - sitting on her couch (and looking significantly better than he had the last time she’d seen him) - was Kim Namjoon.

“How did you get in here?!” Yunli squeaked.

Namjoon held up a key.

“Yoongi gave it to me years ago.”

Though I doubt he intended for me to use it like this.

Her fists clenched and unclenched reflexively at her side.

“Have you… come to yell at me?” she whispered.

Namjoon didn’t respond right away, he was too distracted by the shapely curve of her legs and the soft glow of her skin under the warmth of the living room lamps.

Yunli, however, took his silence as confirmation of her worst fears.

“I’m so sorry...” she trembled, her beautiful eyes glistening poetically with unshed tears. “I don’t - I don’t know what came over me - I know I cost you the fight and I-”

Namjoon felt a chuckle bubble up in chest and winced.

“Yunli...your screams, however affecting, could not undo the will of the goddess.” He shook his head, “Park Jimin was born to be the Alpha.” His fingers rubbed idly at his chest. “I’ve never come across anything like his power.”

Her eyes traced over the damage to his body with obvious remorse.

“Are you ok?” she asked finally.

He had four cracked ribs, several critical lacerations, a concussion, two sprained elbows, countless contusions, and a split lip.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” he shrugged, barely suppressing a groan.

Yunli grinned, helplessly endeared as always. She opened her mouth to ask again why he was here, but he cut her off with a surprisingly curt question.

“Has Taehyung seen you like this?”

Yunli blinked. Twice.

“T-Taehyung? Like Kim Taehyung - your cousin?”

“Second cousin,” he growled, “I was told he brought you home.”

“Well. Yes. He did… I’m really grateful to him actually. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t caught me and calmed me down.”

A loud ringing was building in Namjoon’s ears.

“Do you have an understanding with him?” he snarled.

Yunli’s jaw dropped.

“An understanding? With Yoonji’s Taehyung?!” She snorted. “I don’t have a death wish.”

“What’s Yoonji got to do with this? Isn’t she in Europe?”

“Never mind that. Why would you think Tae and I-”

“Tae?!”

Yunli’s eyes narrowed.

“What’s going on in that busted up skull of yours, Kim Namjoon?”

Namjoon was off the couch and pressing her against the wall faster than she would have thought possible in his condition.

“What’s going on is that for the past year you’ve been a real problem for me, Min Yunli.”

Yunli gasped as the muscled lines of his body weighed firmly into her own. Deep curls of pleasure flared up at every contact point.

Yes. Oh goddess, yes.

The force of his desire burned hot in the air between them. She had waited years for him to see her like this - to touch her like this...

“I wasn’t supposed to feel anything when you looked at me with your heart in those pretty brown eyes,” he murmured, brushing the tips of his fingers up over her arms till he was cupping her chin.

Yunli’s wolf keened in delight as she melted helplessly into his embrace.

It felt good. It felt so so good.

“I was convinced you were a challenge - a divine temptation put in my path to test my resolve-” his jaw clenched, “or simply an endless source of torment because you wanted me so badly and I could never have you.”

The sound of ripping fabric split the air as Namjoon clawed through the neckline of her t-shirt, baring her pert little breasts to him like an obscene feast.

“I was supposed to want the Luna,” he growled, squeezing the soft mounds roughly in his palms till she was whining and writhing against him, “-not Min Yoongi’s sweet little sister.”

Her gaze was so open - so trusting. Adoration shone through every inch of her regard and it was intoxicating.

She was intoxicating.

His hand slid down to grip her thighs, lifting her body till she was forced to wrap her legs around him for balance.

“Namjoon,” she whimpered as the sensitive folds of her core ground into his growing hardness.

“You just kept pushing and pushing-” he hissed, punctuating each word with delicious thrusts till the maddening pressure in her center was nearly unbearable. “Then last night you offered me a taste and it nearly destroyed me.”

His mouth finally descended on hers again and she opened to him eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck with wanton desperation. A tortured groan slipped past his lips as he dragged her away from the wall and onto the sofa where she first discovered him.

“Is this what you wanted, Min Yunli?” he rasped between the fervent mating of their mouths. “To make me desperate? To take me apart until I’m half-mad with wanting you?”

“Yes,” she sobbed as he sucked mark after mark into her flesh, painting her body with the evidence of his passion.

She slipped her hands greedily under his shirt, aching to feel more of his skin against her own. Needy whines and moans fell from her mouth like a siren’s call, beckoning Namjoon to lose himself in the lush warmth of her body.

“If Kim Taehyung puts his greasy hands on you again, I’ll kill him.”

Yunli mewled in primal gratification at his bold words. She had waited far too long to hear them.

“All those months I suffered because my wolf recognized what I was too ignorant to see.”

The last shreds of her shirt flew across the room and Namjoon pinned her wrists above her head like a pagan offering, allowing his free hand to explore her curves with impassioned reverence.

“You are mine, Yunli,” he swore.

And she was.

She always had been.

Following Jimin’s victory, the pack exploded into a chaotic storm of gossip and ceremonial preparations. The story of his unlikely path to power had already spread beyond the borders of the mountain kingdoms.

“-messages are coming in from the high packs of Delhi and Beijing requesting to meet with him-“

The rise of new pack leaders typically brought with it a buzz of excitement, but the Luna and her newly victorious Alpha were anything but typical.

“-he’s a silver wolf. I always knew he was meant for more than just heading up the Park clan-“

The last Alpha king (the current Luna’s great-grandfather) died peacefully in his sleep nearly thirty years ago and the elder’s council ruled in the interim while they waited for a new Alpha to rise. This was the first (and likely the only) coronation most people would see in their lifetime.

“ - my friend from Seoul is begging me to invite her. Outsiders aren’t allowed to attend unless they’re the guest of a pack member- “

Preparations to transfer power were every bit as tedious and time consuming as the rest of pack law.

“-the council just announced that he’s chosen a Praetor. I’m sure it will be Taehyung-“

Aside from sneaking out to secure his Praetor (who was not Taehyung), the new Alpha had been holed up with the council, the heads of the ten major clans, and an army of envoys from other packs for nearly twelve hours.

“ -grandfather worked with him all day. He claims that the future king has already impressed the council-”

Park Jimin’s name echoed through the mountain kingdoms. People could speak of nothing else.

But there was one member of the pack who had not yet heard the news...

Yoongi took a deep breath as he waited for the woman on the other end of the line to accept his call. He was mentally and physically exhausted, but he had promised to tell her what happened as soon as he could.

Silence lingered eerily in the first few moments after she picked up.

“I really debated answering this,” Min Yoonji whispered at last. “I don’t know if I can bear to hear you say that Park Jimin is dead.”

She sighed heavily as she ambled down the stairs of her tiny apartment in Paris.

There were too many happy memories connected with him. He was Tae’s best friend... His loss would tear her former lover apart.

And she could not be there for him when it did.

She could never be there for him...

Several thousand miles away her cousin smiled.

“Park Jimin is not dead, Ji-ah.”

Yoonji missed the last step and crashed down inelegantly on her tail bone.

“WHAT?!” Her fingers scrambled to hold the phone secure in her precarious position. “You mean to tell me that Kim Namjoon lost - to PARK JIMIN?!”

“You sure picked a wild time to move to Europe,” Yoongi chuckled.

“I didn’t really move here per se... I just relocated temporarily but indefinitely.”

“Yes, I’m well aware. Your mother is still howling about what a disgrace it was to go through the Change away from your friends and family. So thank you for that.”

Yoonji sighed.

“What’s done is done... I know you don’t understand, but I promise to explain someday.” Her eyes drifted shut as she forced the pain in her heart aside. “... I can’t believe I missed all this. You have to tell me how he did it.”

“I will later, but I need to head back to the council chambers. We had a brief recess and I figured I’d call since it’s still early over there. However… I do have one last shocking revelation for you before I go.”

Yoonji rolled her eyes at her cousin’s dramatics.

“I’m not sure anything could shock me after finding out that Park Jimin is our new Alpha.”

“Jimin just made Namjoon his Praetor.”

Apparently I was wrong.

“WHAT!? So wait - that means Jinwook is now head of the Kim Clan?”

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Jinwook? No, how could - ah never mind. You were already in Europe when he left.”

“Jinwook left?!”

“Yeah, he was finishing up a consultation in Bangkok when he met his mate in one of the packs up there. It's an older pack with almost no alphas so they asked him to stay. He’s lived in Thailand since August.” Yoongi yawned. “Believe it or not Kim Taehyung was just sworn in as the Kim Clan alpha.”

Dead silence met his declaration. For a moment he wondered if the call had been disconnected but then-

“...What... did you just say?”

Yoonji’s voice had taken on a strange hollow quality that had her cousin frowning into the receiver.

“I said Taehyung was just sworn in as a Clan alpha.”

“That... no that can’t be right... You’re saying Kim Taehyung - my Taehyung-”

“What do you mean your Taehyung?!”

“- is a Clan alpha?”

“Yoonji. I can’t believe I’m repeating this a third time. Yes. Tae is the new head of the Kim Clan. I watched him take the oath twenty minutes ago and I have to say-”

A heart wrenching sob cut him off abruptly.

“Oh goddess what have I done,” she gasped.

Yoongi’s eyes widened in fear and alarm.

“Ji-ah? What’s wrong?... Ji-ah?... Ji-ah?!”

But the line was dead.

Don’t Miss Chapter VII: The Luna… Coming Soon!

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please comment on this post. If you have already asked then you will be automatically tagged in all future updates.

Guys I cannot emphasize enough how much your support has meant to me these last few weeks.

Your comments and your love kept me going. I truly value it so much and it fuels my creativity. Please let me know what you thought? It is incredibly rewarding and motivating to hear from you!

I really struggled with this update. It was much longer and took a lot out of me... I hope you love the final product as much as I do…

Bonus: The gloves Jimin sent his Luna...

2K notes · View notes

zaharadessert · 2 years

Text

Paper Faces on Parade

Rating: T, soft M maybe for some of the comments?

Warnings: attempted abduction

Length: just under 2k

Summary: At a masquerade ball where no one is supposed to be able to tell who she is, Emma finds herself in a spot of bother and Killian happens to be the only one who can make it right.

Notes: Huge thank you as always to @kmomof4 for her beta skills and flailing tendencies... :P

Tagging: @jrob64 @xhookswenchx @kmomof4 @wefoundloveunderthelight @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @teamhook @jonesfandomfanatic @tiganasummertree @onceratheart18 @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @itsfabianadocarmo @ouatpost @ultraluckycatnd @winterbaby89 @thepirateandhisson @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @captainswan21

As always, let me know if you’d like me to add you to my taglist for future fics :)

Also on AO3

- - - - -

The music rang through the air as Emma turned in the arms of Count Walsh von Oz, his dark eyes glittering through his mask as he led her through the steps. It was a little awkward, but he certainly wasn’t the worst dancer she’d ever taken a turn on the floor with. But by the time the song was done, she felt a little breathless, the layers of her grey organza gown keeping in the heat almost intolerably. But she looked and felt incredible, and as a princess who wore gowns most days of the week, that was saying something. She was enjoying the touch of anonymity the mask that matched her dress so beautifully afforded her. Each had been enchanted with a minor glamour spell, to make it more difficult to tell who was behind the mask, but not impossible if you knew them well enough.

Count von Oz had introduced himself, which Emma had found a little strange, but she’d shrugged it off and accepted the dance.

“Shall we step outside, My Lady, I must confess this jacket is a little stifling,” he said as he took her arm to walk her off the dance floor.

“Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you,” she agreed with a bright smile.

They headed out onto the brightly lit balcony, couples flitting in and out of the doors into the ballroom and Emma released the count’s arm as she reached the balustrade and looked out over the gardens with a relaxed sigh.

“The loveliest flowers in the realm pale in comparison to your beauty, Your Highness,” Walsh said from just behind her.

Emma turned to face him, startled by how close he was, but also by his words.

“So you worked out who I am?” she said brightly, hiding her surprise and discomfort. Could she not even manage one night without all that pressure from people who barely knew her? That was the point of these masks and glamour spells after all.

“You do yourself a disservice, Princess. I do believe you are unmistakable,” he said, stepping closer, his fingers coming up to brush the feathers secured to the edge of her mask.

Emma slipped out of his reach, trepidation starting to creep up her spine as she realised the enormous doors back into the balcony were shut and they were alone out here.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, turning to face him once more.

“Come now, Your Highness, let us not fall out, I promise things will be much easier if we don’t…”

- - - - -

Killian’s hook was oddly helpful when it came to scaling palace walls, he’d found, but today he hadn’t needed it. He’d managed to secure himself an invitation to the Masquerade Ball as well as the required mask, complete with glamour spell, and gone to the party as a legitimate guest.

He’d been watching with interest how one person in particular seemed to draw the attention of many a man in the room, including the particularly unsubtle eyes of a man dressed in green, wearing a cloak and a hat that looked, quite frankly, ridiculous. It didn’t take him long to work out who she was by way of who she kept returning to, and by putting one and two together and making three, he surmised that the trio who held themselves so well were the royal family of Misthaven.

The guests of honor at this noble house from which he was here to steal a treasure or two.

No wonder the princess was drawing attention, she was quite the sight to behold after all. Her smile lit up the room and her eyes were intelligent and captivating.

But there was something not right, other than his own presence of course, something off about the man in green that he couldn’t put his finger on. He asked a few questions, found out a name and a couple of other details. Each thing he learned about the man had his back teeth aching with discomfort. It had him on edge enough that instead of making his way upstairs to the attic to secure the items he was here for, he followed the princess and the count out onto the balcony and concealed himself in the shadows at the edge.

Unlike the lady, he did notice the doors swinging shut, and he was suddenly very glad to have followed her out here. The idea of the princess being trapped on a balcony with a man who clearly meant her ill was an unpleasant one.

She slipped away from him, realised he had trapped her out here, and turned to confront him.

Brave lass.

- - - - -

What she wouldn’t give for a sword right now.

She narrowed her eyes at Walsh and put as much distance between them as possible.

“What do you want, Oz?”

“You, obviously, as I’ve brought you out here alone,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Emma was stalling, waiting for someone to notice that she was missing and that the balcony was now inaccessible.

“And what exactly is it you want with me?” she asked, breathing deeply, letting her voice carry, being as loud as possible and hoping someone heard as she scanned the area for something, anything she could use as a weapon.

“I simply wanted some pleasant company for the trip home, it’s what my mistress wants when I get there that you need to be worried about,” he told her cryptically, stepping closer, backing her up towards the balustrade again, making sure she had nowhere to go.

“And what is that?” Emma asked as her back hit the stone.

“Why your magic, of course,” he said, with a smirk as his knees pressed against her voluminous skirts.

He grabbed hold of her wrists and pressed his body against hers.

“Let go of me,” she snarled.

Killian had seen enough, and he stepped out of his hiding place as he drew his sword, levelling it at the back of the man’s neck.

“I believe the lady said ‘no’, mate,” he snarled. “Now, let her go and I might consider not running you through.”

Right before their eyes, Walsh let out a scream and transformed into an enormous flying monkey.

One of his wings knocked Killian back, his sword flying out of his hand, but Emma caught it and where he hadn’t had the chance to, Emma made good on his threat, plunging the sword into the monkey’s chest and throwing him off her.

Right over the edge of the balcony.

The doors from the ballroom burst open, and guards, guests and the king and queen rushed through them.

“Emma, are you alright? What happened?”

“He turned into a monkey, and I stabbed him,”

“Aye, a good catch, Love. Well played,” Killian said as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Who are you?” King David snarled, stepping into Killian’s space.

“He’s the reason I’m still here,” Emma said, quickly moving between them. Knowing her father and his protective streak, any man could have been perceived as a threat right now.

“Aye, and not being flown off to Oz by that damned winged simian,” he added over her shoulder, subtly taking his sword back and sheathing it quickly, wanting to get out of here before any more attention was drawn to him. The night was a bust but he’d saved a beautiful maiden from a terrible fate.

Emma could feel his breath on the back of her neck, making her skin tingle as she faced off against her father for him.

“Oz?” Snow said, frowning.

“Search the grounds, I want to know if he brought anyone with him,” the King commanded the owners of the house, who quickly complied.

As suddenly as everyone had forced their way out to the balcony, they all vanished again.

Emma turned to face the man who’d come to her rescue.

“You know, you could give a girl quite the saviour complex, stepping in like that,” she said, not putting any more distance between them than she had to. “Captain,” she accused.

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” he replied with a grin.

“You passed my ship three years ago on my way to Arendelle. We expected you to attack, and you didn’t.”

“I must have been in pursuit of another vessel, but that doesn’t explain…”

“I borrowed the captain's telescope,” she replied with a shrug. “That, and the hook…”

“Ah, sneaky,” he replied with a grin. “I like it…” he added, popping the t as his gaze dropped to her lips and then flicked back up again.

“Says the pirate,” she retorted.

“Don’t shout that too loudly, Love. You’ll get me hanged.”

Emma laughed, and rubbed her arms as she realised she was shivering. Her hands shook, but she wasn’t cold.

“You’re trembling. Perhaps we should go inside,” he suggested, his hook coming to rest at her back.

“No, no, I’m fine,” she insisted. She didn’t want to go back to all the staring now that everyone knew for sure who she was.

“It’s the adrenaline comedown. Nothing to be ashamed of. Here,” he said, shrugging out of his coat and laying the heavy weight of the leather on her shoulders. Stepping closer he reached into the pocket and pulled out a flask. “This will sort you right out.”

“Careful, Captain. I might have to accuse you of being a gentleman,” she teased as she popped the cork out of the flask and then took a swig, coughing a little as the rum hit the back of her throat.

“Pirate I may be, Love, but I’m always a gentleman,” he said, taking the flask and a pull of the liquid inside before stowing it back in his coat. “Now, I believe the proper thing for us to do is go inside and have a dance before your father suspects that I’m trying anything untoward. Don’t you agree?”

“A dance got me into this mess,” she said with a sigh.

“And a pirate got you out of it,” he murmured, leaning in close. “So, what’ll it be?”

“Is that all you want in return? A dance?”

“It’ll do as a start, because I don’t mean to upset you, Princess, but I think we make quite the team.”

Emma laughed and relinquished the warmth of his leather duster in favour of the warmth of dancing as they rejoined the crowd inside.

At the end of the night he bent over her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“I may not be a man of honor, Love, but I would honor you, if you gave me the chance…” he murmured so that her mother, already seated in the carriage with her father, couldn't hear.

“Then you’d better see that you take it,” she challenged with a wink, as she stepped up into the carriage with his hand for support.

Killian stood there and watched it disappear into the darkness. “Bloody hell,” he muttered to himself, knowing he was going to find out just how much trouble princesses were worth in the not so distant future.

#cs ff #Captain Swan #CS Halloweek 2021 #ZaharaDessert Writes #paper faces on parade

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jeonsbun · 3 years

Text

lover boy ─ p.jm [m]

rating ↬ 18+

word count ↬ 1,970

pairing ↬ jimin x reader

genre ↬ enemies-to-lovers! au, arranged marriage! au, marriage! au, husband! jimin, fluff (if you squint), angst, & some smut

warning(s) ↬ jimin being a dick (he really isn’t), jimin has a big 🍆, protective sex (pls be safe!), semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), usage of princess (like once or twice, dat’s it), cursing, love bites (y/n tries to cover them), slight dom!jimin, lip-biting, & lots of kissing. just pure filth 🤧 lower-case intended

summary ↬ when your parents marry you off to someone that you don’t know, you never expected it to be him.

a/n ↬ hi! welcome to the official oneshot of “lover boy”! i hope that you guys enjoyed the little teaser that i had set out. major thanks to @chimknj for beta reading this <3 this is a part of “dishonest love” monthly prompt from @thebtswritersclub. this is also a little valentine’s day gift. please enjoy! also note that in no way is any members mentioned in this fic are what they are in real life. this is just all fictional. as always feedback is appreciated~

“what?!” you yelled into the phone.

“y/n, calm down. it’ll be over in a year’s time,” the voice on the other side said.

you scoff, “you gotta be fucking kidding me, you’re really marrying me off to some douchebag who you think is good for me? someone that i don’t know?”

“y/n!” yelled the voice, “he is a good man, give him some time, get to know him. it’ll only be a year before it blows over. we’re doing this to protect you, y/n, we love you too much to see you suffer again,”

you sighed into the phone, sliding your hand across your face in defeat, “fine dad, you said only for a year, right?”

oh, how wrong you were. you never excepted it to be him. oh man, the man that you hate with all your gut, park jimin.

he was your rival from another gang, his parents and yours were good friends, they were the ones who suggested you get married off together.

before you knew even knew it, it had be more than a year. your parents thought that having a man in your life will bring in honor among the mafia members you called a family.

you thought this was ridiculous, really. you were always independent and you wanted it to stay that.

when you had met your soon-to-be husband, it was during a party that your family had hosted. they wanted to impress some important people that you didn’t bother to care or know about.

your mother was the one who picked out your dress for the evening. a golden dress, decorated with sparkles shone in the dim light of your room. a sequin v-style dress, that hung low upon close inspection.

“this dress is amazing,” you whispered to yourself as you ran your fingers through the soft fabric. you soon put the dress on, along some gorgeous pair of earrings and a pair of white heels to match. you looked in the mirror, “wow, mom’s got some good taste,” you whisper again, admiring yourself as you brush your hair.

few minutes later, you texted your makeup artist friend holly to help with the touch-ups and hairstyle.

“did you see who’s here?” your friend holly asked you as you heard her heavy footsteps near. “who? who the hell are you talking about?” you reply, confusion on your face.

“park jimin,” she says as she shakes your shoulders. “THE park jimin. he’s here,”

you gasped. you sprinted out of the room as fast as your legs could carry you. she was right. there he was, standing tall near the entrance of the building. He was sipping on a glass of champagne, talking to someone.

you gulped down a lump in your throat that you didn’t even know you had. your father ran up to you. “ahh my beautiful daughter, let me see her,” your father held his hand out toward you. you take it, him spinning you around, laughing happily.

“father, stop. i’m getting dizzy,” you smile him at him. “there’s someone here that I would love for you to meet,” your father takes your hand again, tucking your arm around his, whisking you away.

you approached a tall man, wearing a dress shirt that was tucked away in his pants, his jacket hanging down on his broad shoulders. “namjoon, I have someone here I would like you to know, my daughter y/n,”

“ahh mr. jeon. Nice to see you again. How have you been?” the man, namjoon was it? asks as he hugs your dad. Then his eyes shifted to you, “And you must be Y/N, your father has mentioned a thing or two about you. But, he never told me how stunning you are,” namjoon takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

you blush and looked away sheepishly. you looked at the man, leaning on the wall, near the entrance, staring right back at you. you gulped again.

“y/n, y/n?” someone yelled out, bringing you back to reality. “Yes?” you replied back. “What were you looking at?” replied your dad, as he tried to look around at what you were staring at. “nothing dad, i’m going to get a drink,” you dismiss the question, as you walk toward the open bar, saying goodbye to namjoon.

your brother jungkook was nowhere to seen. ‘He’s probably banging some chick again,’ you thought to yourself as you sigh and facepalm. then you felt a presence, watching you from afar.

you turn around, catching his eyes. his stare is intense, but you don’t dare look away. you start to walk towards him, eyes filled with lust and determination. who does this man think he is?

“what do you want, park?” you say as you stared him down. “nothing, darling. Just admiring a beautiful girl, drinking alone,” he answered back. you scoff.

“as if, you asshole,” you roll your eyes. he suddenly grabs your arms and presses you against the wall. he looks into your eyes again, looking for something. “let me go, you dick!” you yell as you try and get out of grip.

His grip becomes tighter as he leans forward and whispers, “let’s get to know each other.” He then leads the two of you into a closet down the hall, away from the party.

it was quick. so quick that you lost your footing for a second. before you even realized it, his lips were on yours. you pulled away quickly, catching your breath.

“what?” you heard him ask. “what the fuck, park? you don’t go up to people and start drag them into a closet to kiss them?!” you push him as you screamed. He just chuckles. “princess, i’m planning to do more than that,” he smugly says as he smirks.

“you wish, i’m leaving,” you start to turn around when you felt a hand rest upon your wrist.

“wait, look i’m sorry, okay?” you hear him sigh, “your parents told me that we’re married and that i had to marry you or else our whole “family” will go to shit,”

You turn back around, “they said what?” this was the first time you were hearing this. “by the face that you are making tells me that you didn’t know,”

you shook your head, blinking a few times. “why though? i just want to know why, and why you of all people?”

he felt offended but he didn’t show it well. “they told me that it was for the sake of our family and shit, i’m 100% not sure anymore,” he shrugs.

you kissed his cheek, looking at him sadly. next time you knew, you were pulling his shirt off. he didn’t pull away at all. he started to kiss your lips again and down to your neck.

you move your head, giving him more access. you sigh heavily as he sucks hard near the area where your neck and shoulder meet.

he pulls down the back of your dress, releasing you into just your bra and panties. he stares at you again, you stand there sheepishly.

you slowly bend down to your knees to pull down his dress pants. he looks down at you, just running his hands through your hair. you then pulled his boxers down, his member slapping his lower stomach. your mouth waters at the size.

as you start to pump him, you grabbed his balls. you can hear him breathe in deeply, ‘looks like he likes it,’ you then go faster.

“put it in, please,” he says faintly. “i’m sorry what did you say?” you tease.

“don’t tease, y/n please,” he says a little louder, bucking his hips a little to create friction. this was your turn to chuckle. you eventually start to put his member into your mouth, bobbing your head, slowly.

“y/n, go f-faster” he pants. you listen, going faster than before.

you then go for his balls again, massaging them as you go even faster.

“yes, just like that,”

you felt his hand at the back of your head, you hollow out your cheeks as you let him use your throat. you then felt something shoot the back of your throat.

you shallow the salty contents (i’m so sorry 😔), and stand up with your mouth open. jimin smirks at you and kisses your lips.

he reaches behind you to unclip your bra. he then go ham on your breasts, marking them and massaging them. he takes his mouth to assault your nipple and massage the other, you sigh heavy again, dragging your hand through his scalp.

he suddenly stops, whilst you whine from the cold air, surrounding you, and then goes to his pants, searching for something. he comes across his wallet.

you see a wrapper, eyes quickly scheming around at his face, eyes looking suspiciously. he looks up at you, pulling the wrapper out completely, and then putting it in his mouth.

“can never be too careful, am i right?” he chuckles as you roll your eyes again, giggling. he then puts it on his member.

he picks you up and presses you against the wall again, kissing you again. your little makeup session was interrupted when you silently gasp as he slides inside. he takes this opportunity to bite your bottom lip and pull.

he then pushes you up and you sink back down. you moan out his name, creating red scratches across his back along the way.

“oh my god, right there,” you moan out. you didn’t care that you were loud, he was hitting that one spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

after hitting that spot again and again, you finally came undone. but he was not done, at all.

he places you back down and bends you back, just a slight bit. taking you from behind, he goes faster and faster, and getting rougher. you felt his hand start rubbing circles onto your clit, jolting your insides again.

you felt your second orgasm coming, jimin could feel it. your walls clenching his member sweetly, you cooed at him, “i-i’m close jimin,”

“i am, too,” he pants, you look back at him. he looked so handsome, his sleek black hair sticking to his forehead, lips bruised and swollen from all of the kissing and lip-biting, and chest, sweaty and soft to the touch.

after one last thrust and a flick of a finger, you both came together.

kissing your neck one last time, jimin pulls the condom off and threw it away. getting dressed, you saw yourself in the mirror. you looked awful, your hair was disheveled and your makeup was smeared. jimin looked up at you as he puts on his pants, laughing.

you playfully punch his arm, you watch as he puts his shirt back on and then disappear. you put your dress back on and try and fix your hair as best as you could as you wait for him.

jimin came back a few minutes later with a wet cloth, handing it to you. you use it to fix your makeup, wiping away the smeared mascara and lipstick.

knock knock “fuck, who is that?” you whisper yell at jimin. he shrugs, “y/n? jimin? i know you guys are in there, i saw you two,” the voice said. “open the door, now,” you gulp, shaking uncontrollably. jimin places his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it as you slowly open the door of the closet.

you smile fondly as you remembered this moment.

a/n ➳ this is my first time actually doing a full length fanfic that including smut like this, oh my gosh this is just pure filth! i really hope you guys enjoyed this. this really made me nervous and made my heart pound. anyways as always, feedback is appreciated~

☙ masterlist

#thebtswritersclub #ksmutclub #bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #bts jimin #bts park jimin #park jimin #jimin #jimin x reader #jimin imagine #boyfriend jimin #jimin oneshot #jimin boyfriend material #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin fluff

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youbloodymadgenius · 4 years

Text

Min Skat (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is for @maggiescarborough‘s and @gearhead66‘s birthdays 🎉 The truth is, I wanted to write two different fics but I had problems... As you may know, girls, I was on vacation. And the laptop I took with me was broken... So... I couldn’t write. I got home only 36 hours ago. That’s why I finally decided to write a single story, to share, for both of you. Hope you won’t mind. And since I know you both love fluff, then... fluff it is!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVELY WOMEN 💖 🌷 💖

As usual, thanks to my lifesaver, @inforapound, for beta reading it so quickly 🌻

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Min elskede: my love - Min skat: my treasure

the gif belongs to @ohbelllaciao

Summary: You’re pregnant, childish, cranky, hungry, moody and it’s the middle of the night. How’s Ivar going to react?

Warnings: soft, soft, soft Ivar and a lot of fluff.

Words: 2308

Hands on your lower back in a futile attempt to ease the shooting pain coursing through your spine, you slowly cross the room. The faint moonlight allows you to see that Ivar hasn't moved. Covered by many furs, lying on his side, his eyes are closed, his steady breathing just loud enough to hear.

You honestly resent him for sleeping peacefully when you haven't been able to for weeks. There are so many reasons for your sleepless nights: the constant need to empty your bladder, the feeling of choking as soon as you lie down, the midnight cravings, your inability to find a comfortable position in your shared bed, or the frantic kicks from the tiny human growing inside you as soon as you try to rest… You're exhausted. And mildly jealous.

Getting closer, you sink heavily onto the bed, releasing a deep sigh. Ivar immediately moves and groans, annoying you. He should know better and not dare to complain. "Ivar, don't expect me to apologize! I am warning you!" You hiss through clenched teeth, furrowing your brows. "Carry a baby for nine fucking moons and then, maybe, you'll be allowed to say something!"

Sitting up, he grabs a candle and lights it before shifting next to you.

Looking at him, you see his big, sleepy blue eyes staring at you, bewilderment written all over his face. "Min elskede, are you all right? Is there anything I can do?" There's no annoyance or impatience in his voice, and his gentleness stirs you up. You love him so much… Forgotten, your previous anger is replaced by an emotional roller-coaster bringing tears to your eyes.

Since you don't answer, he gets closer to you, squeezing both your hands in one of his. "Y/N, min elskede, why did you get up? Tell me please."

Using his free hand, he gently fixes a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"I don't know…" Shrugging your shoulders, you try to explain. "I had… I was too hot. And then I had to… pee…" You blush. "And now I wish I'd grab something to eat. I'm hungry. And I'm cold." Snuggling into his arms, you can't help but pout.

Smiling at you, he kisses softly the tip of your nose before speaking firmly, grabbing and patting a fluffy pillow. "I'll take care of everything. Lie down, min elskede." You're too exhausted to fight back and just do as you're told. Rewarded by a soft kiss on your forehead, Ivar folds several furs onto you and you give him a little smile.

You watch him as he throws himself onto the floor and starts crawling. The glorious sight of his nacked, chiseled chest is mesmerizing and painfully appealing. If you weren't so pregnant, you'd probably jump on him for a long and passionate lovemaking session. But here you are, huge and so weary that the simple thought of moving again exhausts you. Frustrated, you close your eyes, sighing heavily.

"I'll be right back, min elskede." Stopping at the doorway, Ivar gives you a last comforting smile and then disappears. You do know he'll come back with everything you could wish for, and undoubtedly more.

From the very beginning, Ivar has always been different around you. Nicer to you than to other people. Less prone to anger. You know it's because of the way you acted when you first met him. That night, for the first time in his life, he had been treated first as a human being, and not as a cripple.

He'd traveled all the way to Vestfold to ask your uncle, King Harald, for his support in his war against Lagertha. You, the illegitimate daughter of Halfdan the Black, the king's brother, lived most of the time further north with your mother, who had only been a one-night stand to your father. But once or twice a year, Harald invited you to Vestfold, usually for his own benefit.

That time, the king had asked you – urged you – to seduce Ivar the Boneless, in order to strengthen their alliance. You didn't like being treated like a courtesan and had locked yourself in your room. It had taken all your father's forcefulness to convince you to come out. When you had eventually entered the hall, the feast in honor of the youngest Ragnarsson was in full swing. Dressed in a beautiful burgundy red dress offered to you by King Harald, you had caught everyone's attention but only had eyes for your uncle's special guest. Immediately captivated by his perfect facial features, you had felt as if you were drowning in his unimaginably blue eyes as soon you had looked into them, your heart skipping a beat.

Sitting next to your uncle, the chair to his left was free, reserved for you according to your father's words. Taking your seat nervously, you had wondered if he could hear the frantic heartbeat in your chest.

From that moment on, it was just the two of you. You weren't even sure the world kept spinning. For hours, Ivar and you had been talking, smiling at each other, his hand grabbing yours under the table, your fingers stroking his knuckles.

You soon had realized that Ivar's reputation – a selfish, bloodthirsty and ruthless prince – only reflected part of the man he was: outstandingly intelligent, curious about everything, funny, smart and clever. He had asked you a lot of questions, wanted to know everything about you. You had told him about your village, about your mother's people, the Sami, and their peculiar customs. He had listened carefully, often asking you to clarify some details. He had been more reluctant to talk about his life, claiming that yours was much more exciting than his own, made of wars and blood.

When your completely drunk uncle had ended the feast, Ivar had put his hand on your forearm, tentatively offering to see you again the next day. Much to his surprise, you had agreed right away, a wide smile lighting up your face. And then a frown had crossed his face as he had lowered his head. "Y/N, I… There's something you need to know… "The panic was written all over his face. "I'm… not like everyone else." Swallowing, he had kept his head down.

Of course he wasn't. He was different. He had won your heart in a matter of hours. What was the problem? Then, realization had hit you. Of course. Speaking softly, you had grabbed his hand. "I know absolutely everything I need to know about you, Ivar."

Releasing a shaky breath, Ivar had shook his head. "No, you don't. You wouldn't have agreed to meet me again if you did. You wouldn't have agreed if you knew that I'm a cr—" Shushing him, one finger on his lips, one hand on his chin, you had forced him to look at you. "Ivar, I know your legs don't work. I knew all along. I knew when I sat next to you." He was bewildered and speechless. Shrugging, you had explained. "I don't care if you can't walk, Ivar, it doesn't matter. What matters though, it's what's there,” your hand had briefly grazed his chest, you had pointed at his heart, "and there,” your index finger had brushed his forehead as you had smiled once again. "So yes, I definitely want to meet you tomorrow." And then, your lips had audaciously found his, leaving him astounded.

You were already utterly in love. And so was he. That night, you spoke with your heart and Ivar believed you. And more importantly, from that night on, he trusted you, allowing himself to be soft and caring when it was just the two of you.

Abandoned to your memories, you sigh lovingly. Gods, this man is your everything and you love being the one with whom he's his true self. You know him like no one else does. And you see him for who he is. Not a king, not a cripple. Just a man; your man. Often stubborn, sometimes hot-tempered but always and unwaveringly loving.

Since you are with child, Ivar takes even greater care of you, his unexpected yet unfailing patience both surprizing and delighting you. Whether you're screaming, crying or sulking, he's always there, smiling, cheering you up, whatever the time of day or night. And no matter what you ask, he's always trying to meet all your needs, making a point of doing everything on his own.

Every night, since your first cravings many months ago, he brings you something to eat.

Every day, he massages your tense shoulders and your aching back, and then rubs your swollen legs.

At all times, he wordlessly endures your mood swings and tantrums.

Every morning, he helps you get dressed before braiding your hair while whispering words of love for only you to hear.

And every day, you feel guilty.

Since you're pregnant, you're not yourself. Most of the time you can't help it, but sometimes you realize what you're doing and blame yourself for treating your husband so poorly.

"Min elskede!" His voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

Pushing a heavy wooden tray in front of him, Ivar carefully crawls his way back. From where you are, you can see on the tray two bowls and one plate, all full of delicacies.

When he's close enough, Ivar hands you the tray before pulling himself up on the bed, taking a seat right next to you. Helping you sit up, he places a large cushion behind your back, his knuckles grazing your cheek while his lips briefly find yours.

Looking down, you stare in wonder at what Ivar brought you. Once again, he thought of everything: various dried meats, goat cheese, those blueberries you love so much and those pickled herrings you usually hate but are mad about since you are with child.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you let out an embarrassed laugh. "Ivar, I don't deserve this…" Blinking a few times, you grab his hand. "I don't deserve you."

He shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "Min elskede, you made me a man, then a husband." He tenderly puts his free hand on your huge belly. "And soon, I'll become a father. It's more than I could have hoped for. Of course you deserve this. You deserve even more than this." Before you can say anything, Ivar pops a blueberry in your mouth.

Patiently waiting for you to finish eating, Ivar keeps a soothing hand over your shoulders, absentmindedly massaging them while pecking you on the cheek. As soon as you finish, he puts the tray on the nightstand, nodding appreciatively as he sees the cleared plates.

"Min elskede, it's far from dawn, you should try to get back to sleep." You nod getting lost in a yawn and lay down, rolling on your side with effort. Ivar lays down as well, facing you, his right hand brushing your belly.

"I love you, Ivar, I love you so much. You're a wonderful husband and you're going to be an amazing father." Sighing, you close your eyes for an instant. "You'll be a much better father than yours or mine ever was." Your voice is shaky and you can see uncertainty on Ivar's face.

"I'll try, Y/N, I'll try really hard. I can promise that I'll do my best." His breath hitches as he grabs your hand, squeezing it. "But tell me… Tell me again…" He stops, eyes clearly watering. Swallowing, he winces before taking a deep breath. "Tell me… What are we going to do if the baby is… like me?"

That's his greatest fear. You know your husband is terrified. The thought of him passing his condition – his curse, as he says – on to your kid gives him nightmares. Since you have been with child, he's done everything he can not to bother you with it. Yet, the closer it gets, the less he manages to hide his worries.

A hand on his cheek, you give him a reassuring smile. "If the baby is like you, my king, we'll love them just as much. We'll be there for them at every step, and you can teach them everything you had to find out on your own. If the baby is like you, it will be their strength and we'll help them to make the most of it. And I promise you, Ivar, growing up, this child will have everything you didn’t." Eyes bathed in tears, Ivar sniffles as you grasp his hand, firmly putting it back on your belly. "However, because of those vigorous kicks…,” Ivar almost jumps, wide-eyed, as he feels something hitting his hand and you stifle a laugh, "… I strongly believe their legs will be perfectly healthy."

Closing his eyes, Ivar enjoys feeling the blows against his palm, but frowns as you hiss in pain, one of them reaching your ribcage.

Sitting upright and adjusting his legs, he takes the fur off, tossing it to the side before pushing your nightgown up. He gently presses his hand on your belly, his fingers freely running over your skin, before lowering his head. "Min skat, I know you can't wait to see the world, and the truth is, I can't wait to meet you. But for now, please, let your beautiful mother sleep." Whether it's Ivar's voice, or his touch, it works and you can feel your baby calm down. Ivar inhales deeply. "My father once told me that happiness was nothing. He couldn't be more wrong. Your mother made me a happy man, which I thought was impossible. She and I, together, will teach you love and happiness…"

As you struggle to hold back your tears, Ivar peppers light kisses all over your belly. "Go to sleep, baby…" He whispers… "Sleep, min skat."

🛡⚔️🛡

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#ivar #ivar x reader #ivar fanfic #ivar fic #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar vikings #vikings #vikings imagine #vikings ivar #sydney's birthday #sophie's birthday #gearhead66 #maggiescarborough #Happy Birthday

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