#and both of them laughing right from the soul in relief and delight at each other b/c like 'how could I kill a god only to be bested | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

roverjamball · 2 years ago

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"I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified"

DAY 3 - 19.07.2023

“If one does not know to which port one is sailing, no wind is favourable”. - Seneca

Our gazes locked, beautiful amethysts looked into mine, we shared a shining moment of epiphany.

"I think,” Raven says. But before she can deflect, I felt along the bond we share, stronger now that Raven was right here before me, touching, her shutters were about to come down, so I rush in.

“I'm in love with you,” I say.

Five months since their assist at the club in Gotham, and Todd kept calling them back in. They were more Outlaws than Titans at this point.

Mostly Damien and Raven together were needed. They worked well off each other, having been a team for so long and now that they were together, sync was to a whole new level.

But sometimes Todd only called Raven. Those times were the worst. Whenever he could Damian backed her, Outlaws or no Outlaws, but that wasn’t always possible. He was needed in Gotham or was approached by League of Shadows; associates or intermediaries, splinter groups any or all hoping to get their hooks in him. This one had been one of those times. It was handled, suffice it to say they wouldn’t be looking to Damian to be their Demon's Head.

Damian was not an assassin, if someone needed killing and there was no other way, then he was not above it. He wouldn’t start it, but he’d sure finish it. But taking on targets, be it in the name of the greater good, that was a slippery slope. It could tarnish ones soul.

“There is always a choice,” he’d said while immobile, at Slade’s mercy. He tired to live by it every day, some days, days when Raven wasn’t hurt and bleeding, were easier than others.

After nearly month of being away, Raven was back, and soon she’d be back in his loft, eating his food and then at long last tucked in his bed, wearing his clothes. Clothes that she liked to filch. Much to his delight, but they played that it was cleverness on her part, that he was put out and not that every part of him was hers, let alone his things.

“I'm in love with you,” I repeat. Raven seems speechless. Her face blank.

Raven had to have guessed of course, I thought as I waited for her to respond.

I’d said I would and have been an open book to her. Our connections, a bond that flows both ways, allows for nothing less. Raven need never repress any side of herself with me. But it had to be said. Out loud. I didn’t just want to say it, I wanted it DECLARED. To Raven. The world.

Raven looks stunned for a moment, colour returning to her face, cheeks flushed, she laughs in shock, looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. For a moment I fear I may have miss calculated, my heart stutters, but then Raven smiles at me, a shy unsure thing. Giddy, is what I feel from our emotional tie.

“I care for you deeply Damian. And of any person alive, I care for you the most.” Her look of apprehension belied her words. Give me some time, her eyes pleased with me.

He wanted it all. Her to declare what she felt, as he had. It was obvious that she did feel. She opened up to him in a way that she had with no one else. But for now he was more than happy to be the person she cared for the most. Now that she was standing there in front of me, safe, healed, her hair wet, fresh form a shower, I noticed a hamper by the bathroom, filled with grimy, torn clothes. Clothes she’s escaped in. I could admit how anxious I’d been. How close had he come to losing her.

I checked her for burns, wounds. I sent a prayer to any higher power that listed, bring her home to me. I’d begged. And she was here, in my arms, warm, soft smelling of herbal shampoo and rose soap. Not a scratch on her, from what I can see, and I can see a lot. Though with Raven’s preternatural healing that could mean nothing. Yet, she was safe at this moment. And sometimes this moment is all one can count on.

“Satisfied” she said, her eyebrows raised over eyes crinkling in mischievousness.

I was. Relief, then an explosion of raw emotion, coursed through me. Did Raven feel it? It must leak through me. Again I made a conscious decision, not withhold anything, I let it all out. I wanted to know how she felt, always, so didn’t ever hide how I was feeling.

It was like waking up after days of anguish to find that anxiety was gone. Where there had been only confusion, there was suddenly nothing, and other feelings rushed in to fill the sudden void.

A month apart. I thought I would never survive it. With Raven before me, I wonder how did I survive without her.

Excitement, a nervousness that accompanies expectation flowed threw my body. A surge of warm emotion rolled together with bubbling exuberance.

Raven giggled, there was a note of hysteria in it, which I ignored. Her happiness, however, mirrored my own and I hugged Raven to me, sharing her joy. Our excitement compounded, overflowing.

Raven, the goddess of darkness, and in those shadows, these feeling were new, budding but no less vibrant. The sensual pleasure of the feminine mysterious scent of her, looking at her face, so close to mine, genuine joy and something more mysterious, her dark hair playing on my arms, goose flesh riddled my skin where it touched. The connection between them sparked, as strong as he remembered it. Reinforced by nearness and touch. It felt like coming home after a long, terrible trip, and he grinned at her like an idiot.

I needed to feel her skin under my hands, to feel her pressed to me. And so I did. She was alive, and in my arms.

The need, was a hunger I felt in my core. I needed her, all of her, as much as I needed air, more even, if that was possible.

And I finally told Raven. She meant everything to me, and it was enough that she was here. I'd never been very good at expressing myself verbally. But now, I felt free, unburdened.

By the time Raven was released from medical, I’d gone half mad getting back to the Tower. I patiently waited while she showed, and now I was already pressed up against her.

Raven let out a gasp in surprise, but I leaned gently into her, walking her backwards, carrying her, pressing her shoulders to the door. Slowly, savouring I lowered my mouth to hers, she moved to meet me half way. Her lips were soft, sweet, hot. She went still for a second, then let out a low sound and wrapped her arms around my neck rubbing my shoulders, kissing me with abandon.

I could feel her, relaxed and calmness in holding me. The excitement of anticipation coursing through her.

Her slender, warm body and softness moulded against my hardness. My hunger roared, and I controlled it, the kiss, my tongue lightly teasing. Raven, impatiently deepened the kiss, her lips almost desperate, low whimpers vibrating through her mouth and into mine.

I started to feel a little light-headed, having Raven, wet and wrapped around me could surely do that. Her robe came lose, dark blue against glowing skin. It was all too much and not enough. I was feeling disoriented, some part of me warned against it, I only pressed harder against her, kissing her neck, barred shoulder, taking her hands under my T-shirt as a resounding yes!

I slid one hand over her hip, under her robe to curl about her naked waist. Raven pulled her to me, and I responded, her breath hot and quick, against my throat like soft butterfly wings. I felt each exhale all over my body, like I was a ringing tuning fork.

We’d been taking things slow, but it seemed Raven was as ready to really be one with me this night. There weren’t many secrets between us, but one and with the way Raven’s sent filled the air, her feelings bombarding wave after wave.

We would be…

Lifting one leg to press against mine, winding around my hips, pulling me nearer, Raven murmured “I love you.” A kiss then “ I missed you”, she said mindless in sensation.

I lowered my mouth to her throat, tongue tasting her heartbeat, racing just like mine was, and she arched against me, “Damian”. She chanted my name, encouraging me.

How did I get so lucky I thought, gently biting her pulse, sending quivering shock waves through her. Raven shook against me, letting out quiet sounds of deepening need.

Our connection snapped into overdrive. I could feel it all. Sensation flooded our starved systems .

Too long.

“Damian”, she called to me and I found her eager lips with mine, and her fingers tightened in my hair, drawing me hard against her.

My dizziness grew. Some coherent part of me, a small part not focused on Raven, thought my reaction odd. I struggled to follow that train, but passion and need murdered any reasoning brain power.

Raven shuddered. She stopped kissing me and pressed her palm against my chest, my heart beating against her worryingly fast, turning her face away from me Raven distanced us.

I came too myself then. We were wrapped in midnight energy. Raven pushed again, gentle, and as I move out of the aura, the disorientation lessened.

My lips still burned to touch hers again, but I closed my eyes, feeling reason return. I took slow, shuddering breaths and backed away from her. My heart beat manageable. Fast still from …. Well we were about to be very intimate.

“What happened?”

Raven looked as shaken as I felt.

I led Raven to a sofa, unable to totally forgo skin contact. Shoring up my shields, I held her cold had in mine, warming her up. She emerged from shifting shadows, her robe covering her again, much to my irritation.

"I could feel you,” she said, after a minute of sitting in silence.

"I could feel you too. It …" I shivered. "It felt …..…I was, heaven.”

Raven looked shocked, her jaw dropped.

Adorable. I had rendered her speechless. Didn’t happen that often. I kept my lips pressed, lest I laugh.

“Sex with me is dangerous. Intimacy with me, is to share in my power.” She paused at his raised brow. She’d told him that. This wasn’t their first time being intimate.

Life was energy, Raven had explained, each cell contributed to a beings life, storing energy. And sharing touch, tasting each other they shared that energy, that was life. But it was much stronger this time. Was it the time apart? Their tie making up for lost time?

His expression was neutral, but when Raven looking guilty, for being an empath, having daemon lineage, he sheath with anger. Ostracised by the League, by Azarath, when she couldn’t help how she’d been born? This beautiful women was a goddess among mortals, kind and funny, a healer. So strong in mind, her sprit was a marvel.

His beloved was gifted, amazing, a marvel not cursed as she beloved, as others treated her.

“I don’t think I control your mind,” she went on. “I mean, I’ve never tried, not during. …..I don’t want to, but its difficult to focus during…… anyway,” she continued in a brisker tone. “I know I’m stronger than an average person, mentally. And lost in sensations, being an empath, well there isn’t much control during such an emotional high.” Bitterness crept into her tone.

"Sex is more than just sensations. It's a union of the energy of two lives. And it's explosive. It's the process for creating life. For creating a new soul. Think about that. Power doesn't get more dangerous and volatile than that.”

I nodded, frowning.

"Love is another kind of power, which shouldn't surprise you. Magic comes from emotions, among other things. And when two people are together, in that intimacy, when they really, selflessly love each other, it changes them both. It lingers on in their aura, even when they are apart."

“That is when I can’t hide anymore from the fact that something is very wrong with me.” She said it as if they were the most hideous actions. Raven wanting what everyone wanted. Someone of her own, to love her, hold her and share in her passion. He couldn’t disagree more. Her compassion, her empathy made her miracle, just as. Just Raven

“I have to control my thoughts,” Raven continued, as if confessing to the worst sins “my feelings when I’m upset, so other people don’t get infected by my emotions, get manipulated.”

Her voice trailed off and she kept glancing at him as if expecting him to berate. She spoke of her amazing abilities with more shame than he’d heard the Joker or Black Mask speak, after killing untold number of innocents. For money or just for the heck of it.

“Wait,” he said in a carefully controlled tone. “I remember you told us, at fourteen you truly realised your uniqueness. You didn’t know what you were before then? What did Arella, the Azar tell you about your father till then?”

Pain filled her expression, her shield locked down tight, I got no impressions from the tenuous bond between us.

Raven’s face said it all, her posture, she was closing in on herself. “My teachers never mentioned my father. If I’d ask, as I did when we had little time together, Arella changed the subject or got angry. Azarath was different than earth. Its own culture. I wondered who my biological father was. No one said anything, but they let me know I was tainted blood.”

She closed her eyes. I reached out with my emotions. Showing her, you are special to me, how wonderful she was.

“They did the right thing. It was necessary for mother to be kept apart from me. I couldn’t then succumb to strong emotions and be taken over by Father.”

Oh, how well I know that pain, Beloved

Her words excused Azarath and Arella’s actions, but her eyes filled with tears. Raven tried to blink away the telling moisture, stop it from spills down her ashen cheeks, her shields held, but the hurt was evident.

Her mother, all of Azarath for years kept her lineage hidden, training to suppress all emotion. An empath. Her life, childhood devoid of warmth, a mothers love.

No wonder her eyes held such desperation. Her own mother had broken her, and Arella’d let it be done to her own child, when Raven had been at her most innocent, vulnerable. Punished for no fault of her own.

Yet Raven hadn’t stayed broken. Somehow, once she learned of her dark lineage, his fierce Beloved picked up the pieces, found strength of sprit in herself. She avenged her mother, became a hero who saved the very world. Now, every time she took on the likes of Brother Blood, her own Father, Raven was trying to suppress the parts of herself Arella taught her to despise…and also, without realising it, trying to earn her mother’s love.

How well he knew, the others, when they found out of mother and grandfather, well when it wasn’t names it was how they treated him. And sometimes, even Father’s eyes held doubt.

Raven shouldn’t have had to be that strong. No one should.

“Damian, I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified.” The sincerity on her tear streaked face broke my heart.

I crushed her to me. She came willingly, her trust a salve to my soul.

Relieved. That’s how Damian felt.

Raven, he’d hoped cared for him as he did for her, their bond was proof, an empath as strong as Raven would bond with her love.

There were glimpses, when Raven’s shields were down, he could sense that she also … yet, he never realised how much he needed Raven to say it. Out loud. To hear it form her own lips. He was right. Nothing else in the world had a sweater sound.

“Damian, I think I'm in love with you too and I'm terrified.”

He’d need to work on convincing her that they were ride or die. For he would die for her, and with startling clarity Damian realised that he was willing to kill for Raven’s well being. For the latter, he’d give her no reason to be terrified of her feelings for him. But judging by the emotions coursing through him, possessive, protective and he’d admit, strongly irrational, if Raven felt half of what he did, the world should be terrified.

She must’ve sensed his thoughts, felt his emotions, because Raven smiled tentatively, blinking the tears from her eyes. The next moment her lips were on his chest as she clutched at him, desperation rolled in the part of Damian’s mind their connections occupied. Their bond a part of unconscious, stronger, more stable now, must be the declaration of love from them both that gave it such strength.

Raven’s eyelashes like butterfly wings on his skin. Raven wrapped her arms around him tighter, and Damien felt euphoria burn brightly inside him. Coursed through his veins. His heart beat so fast, he thought he would explode, the beats an epicentre. Was surprised when it didn’t. Her ears could surely hear, with her nearness Raven could surely feel what she did to him?

Her head bent he could see her hair was as always the darkest night. She hadn’t bothered to put it up, and it spilled over her shoulders down to the curve of her breasts, midway down her back. The light from the windows played on the dark strands, coaxing deep-purple highlights from the mass of loose, heavy waves he loved to play with. Her face was a soft oval, with a small but full kissable mouth and her high cheekbones, that rested on his heart.

Feeling mischievous, he very deliberately said, “me too, Beloved.”

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

I snuggled into Damian’s side, as soon as he sat beside me. It was amazing how comfortable she felt with him. His arm around her shoulders felt just right, and their bodies fit together in a lovely, cozy way. She had the brief thought they might fit in other ways, too. She shivered, but not with cold.

Beloved! She was his already, in her heart she’d known that, and Damian’s actions, emotional aura told her he also saw her as his and he, hers. But now the words were said and heard. Words have power. Perception is reality. If she could see it, she could create it. Her magic primarily will based.

Still, it was getting chilli, Raven pointed towards fat pillar candles she’d brought with her last time she was here. Scattered around the room; on a work table she co-opted, stand alone shelves without anything flammable Damian installed especially, corner tables, window sills. With a bit of will and concentration, a blue glow lit her room, glowing orange and yellow when she reduced the intensity.

She turned back to find Damian smiling at her, his face golden in the flickering light, his eyes the deepest forest that when she looked into she knew she was home. Raven couldn’t keep the smile off her face either.

Damian not to miss any opportunity, kissed her face, her neck, all the while telling her how he loved her. Making promises of forever, of happiness, devotion. Of loyalty.

“I hope you know what you’re doing” Constantine had said when Raven spoke to Doctor Fate of her feelings, she’d asked if it could be dangerous.

“Unclear”, the agent of Order said. He didn’t seem to care enough to discourage her. So perhaps her relationship with Damian didn’t have big-picture consequences?

Me too, I thought a while later, as I led Damian to our bed. I also hope I know what I’m doing.

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zoeykallus · 3 years ago

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Fives - Soldier Boy 2 – Caught In The Act

Fives x fem!Reader FF

Warnings: Suggestive/ Smooching/ Fluff

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Author's Comment:

Fives is one to take risks, lucky for you.

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What Happened Before:

Soldier Boy

Part 2 - Caught In The Act

Your eyes held each other, for quite a while, silently. Five's gaze had softened and he silently wondered if you really meant what you just said. It couldn't be true at all, it would be far too good to be true and so seductive and dangerous.

Fives couldn't help it, he gave in to the urge inside him, grabbed your shoulders and pulled you across the table onto his lap. Your dress slipped as he did so, and he could see the embroidered top edge of your thigh-high stockings. His fingers slid playfully over them for a moment, then he looked up into your face.

He was so strong and his impulsive actions drove heat into your cheeks and quickened your heartbeat.

"I hope you're not just playing with me, Soldier Boy".

He smiled at you.

"I wish I could do that so easily, Scardy Cat" he teased you.

The next moment his lips were on yours, one hand on your hip, the other on the back of your head. You felt downright giddy from the intensity of the kiss, the feelings that were welling up inside of you, and you sought a hold on his strong shoulders with both hands.

He murmured close to your lips, "Maker I want you, need you....in every way imaginable."

He laughed, then said, "That's scary but also exciting, at least to me."

Before you could answer, his lips were pressed firmly to yours again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and chasing after yours. He was a lively mixture of curious impetuosity and soulful tenderness.

Fives grabbed your waist with both hands, moved you onto the sofa, and was over you the next moment, kissing your neck and whispering sweet little nothings to you. His hands were everywhere, nimble and skilled. His lips on your bare skin were delightful, igniting heat in you, tingling deep beneath your skin and quickening your heartbeat once more.

What you didn't hear was the door to the chambers and how it opened. What you did hear, however, was someone clearing his throat loudly. Fives and you both paused and held your breath. It was Fives who looked up first. Standing in the middle of the room were Captain Rex and General Skywalker.

Every curse you had ever heard in your life just popped into your head, but you just silently straightened up and tugged the skirt of your dress.

"Rex? General Skywalker....," Fives sounded like he was going to pass out at any moment "Uh, I can explain that".

Skywalker raised his eyebrows in amusement, Captain Rex however, looked anything but amused.

"Get a grip, soldier," he murmured to his brother.

Fives stood up hastily and saluted nervously. He had been up to some nonsense in the past, though he had never been caught, certainly not at something so particularly delicate.

"How did you get into the chambers?" you asked, a little incensed at the unasked-for invasion of your privacy.

Skywalker replied amiably, "I must apologize. Your uncle, the senator, gave me the keycard to get something for him. He didn't mention anyone was here"

You sighed and said, "I wasn't originally planning to stay here today either."

Anyway, you told your uncle you were on your way so Fives was sent back to you.

Rex pierced Fives with his gaze, full of disappointment and indignation. Skywalker, on the other hand, seemed to take it anything but harshly, but said, "If you're going to do this often, you should be a lot more careful"

Rex looked at him critically from the side.

As if sensing Rex's gaze and indignation, the Jedi Master said, "We didn't find anyone in the Senator's chambers, as expected, Rex, right?"

Rex hesitated for a moment, but he knew Fives would face serious consequences if he snitched on him.

"That's true, sir," he finally returned stiffly.

You could see Fives finally breathe a sigh of relief, as if he had been holding his breath all this time.

Without many more words, Skylwalker picked up a holopad to get for the senator and left the room. Rex followed him, but stopped short in the doorway and murmured to Fives, "I want to see you in the barracks in ten minutes!"

"But-"

"Ten minutes, Fives!" repeated Rex insistently.

Fives sighed and nodded with a slightly sarcastic, "Yes, sir."

When Rex was gone you said nervously, "You shouldn't upset him, if he tells on you then-"

"He won't" Fives interrupted you and kissed you again, intimately and demanding, wiping every thought from your mind with the soft feverish warmth of his lips and tongue.

"But you have to go," you murmured at some point into the kiss, worried he might get into trouble after all.

He reluctantly broke away from you, stood up and sighed, "I know if I run I'll make it in time."

After a short pause, he asked a little meekly, "Can I see you again tomorrow?"

You looked up at him. Of course you wanted to see him again, but was that wise? It was no big deal for you, but your uncle could be discredited by you and Fives could be in much bigger trouble. Somehow it was ironic that you of all people, the niece of the senator who stood up for the rights of the clones, had a crush on one of them. It was the controversial issue for which he received much criticism and even threats. He believed that clones should have the same rights as other citizens, the right to choose whether they wanted to be soldiers, the right to found a family, to actually be a citizen. Unfortunately he was only supported by two other senators, Padme Amidala and Bail Organa. At least until now.

When you didn't answer right away, he looked distressed.

"I can understand if this makes you uncomfortable, now that General Skywalker knows," he said dejectedly.

With a small smile you looked at him.

"I would love to see you again, I'm just afraid that you or my uncle will get into trouble over this".

He smiled tentatively, seeing a small glimmer of hope on the horizon.

"I'm pretty sure your uncle wouldn't mind if we.... well... you know, be a couple" he said, picking up his helmet.

He gave you a quick kiss, put the helmet on, and wrote something down on a piece of paper on the table.

"My personal comm, you can almost always reach me with it, at least as long as we're on the same planet. Let me know if you want to see me again."

With these words, he hurried out of the room, he was already two minutes late.

Rex was angry, Fives could see that immediately when he arrived at the barracks. He looked at the ARC soldier with a critical eye, furrowed brow, steep line between his serious eyes.

"What the hell are you thinking? Do you know how fucking lucky you are that General Skylwalker is so forgiving?!" he snapped as he pulled Fives aside into an empty chamber.

Fives yanked his arm out of his brother's grip and said, "Lighten up, it all worked out for the best."

Rex sighed wearily and said, "You find some new nonsense to get up to every day. But today puts the crown on everything, then to top it off with a senator's daughter!"

"Niece," Fives corrected.

"What?"

"She's the niece, not the daughter," Fives clarified for the captain.

Rex rolled his eyes, "Absolutely no matter! The state of affairs remains the same!"

"But I like her," Fives said seriously "And I'll see her again.... If she lets me"

"That's a stupid idea, but knowing you, you won't let me talk you out of it", grumbled Rex.

Fives grinned, "You know me pretty well."

Rex sighed and said with a worried expression, "I really hope you don't get yourself into more trouble than you can handle this time."

Fives blinked for a brief moment thinking that he might be mustered out and assigned to some other duty on Kamino. To his surprise, he felt the worst of it was that he wouldn't see you again if that happened. He liked being a soldier, he lived for it, but he also wanted to be more than that, many of his brothers did.

"I'll take care of myself," he finally said.

"I hope so, because this is something I won't be able to help you with should this get out to the public," Rex indicated.

Fives smiled gratefully at his brother.

"Even though your stubborn nature often annoys me, I really appreciate that you care about me. However, this is something I have to decide for myself."

Rex nodded.

"I understand. But do yourself a favor and don't tell anyone about this, not all of our brothers will be understanding"

@clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi

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btssavedmylifeblr · 5 years ago

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Tongue Tied (M)

Genre: SMUT, fluff, crack, demon au (sort of), idol verse, established relationship au, pwp with a side of minor relationship angst

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count:12k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex, orgasm denial, masturbation, squirting, sex toys, dirty talk, degradation, bladder desperation and brainwashing

A/N: So… this is porn. Apologies to everyone, especially Park Jimin. Blame my anons who goaded me into it. Love you all! Stay hydrated.

Jimin's tongue trails a warm circle around your erect nipple.

"Stop teasing," you groan, threading your fingers through his dark hair and tugging him closer to you.

Jimin obliges, spreading his tongue across the perky bud, sucking it into his mouth, massaging with his lips. Flames of arousal rush through you. His fingers move from your hip to your lower folds, dipping into you, checking how wet you are. He releases your breast and smirks, holding up his fingers to show you the translucent strings stretching between them. "So eager.”

He laves kisses across your throat. His tongue alternates between firm and soft, sucking just to the point of pain, then soothing it away. He moves downward, sliding you up the bed as he works his way toward your swollen center. Every place his tongue touches burns with desire.

Your core throbs as he draws closer and closer to it. Despite dating for six months, Jimin has never gone down on you. The place you most want his talented tongue is the one place it has never been. In the beginning of your relationship, you had assumed oral sex was something he had accidentally overlooked. But now it was starting to seem deliberate.

Jimin sucks a hard kiss onto your hip as he slips his finger back between your folds, spreading your arousal up to your clitoris. He draws a slow circle around the sensitive nub, laughing softly against your belly when you moan out loud.

The closer he gets, the more your desperation builds. You tighten your fingers in his hair to coax him farther down. He pushes your folds apart with his hand, bringing his face in close to inspect your swollen cunt, chuckling as it clenches. Your clit pulses as you wait for him to bring his mouth to it.

But then he's pulling away from you, sitting back on his heels. "I'm going to fuck you now.” He holds you open with one hand and strokes his dick with the other. You bite your lip to hide your disappointment and nod.

There's nothing disappointing about Jimin's dick though. He knows how to use it well. It's not until you're both sweaty, sated and lying in each other's arms that you remember your earlier disappointment.

"Jimin?" You trail a finger over his chest. "Can I ask you a question?"

He gives a soft murmur of assent as he presses a contented kiss to your forehead. His hand strokes lazily up and down your arm.

"Why do you never go down on me?"

His hand stops moving.

You press on. "I blow you all the time, but you never go down on me."

"I don't know.” He shifts underneath you, his eyes not meeting your gaze. "Just like other stuff better."

"Well, sure," you reply, kissing his chest. It had never been your favorite activity either, always making you a bit self-conscious. But it was quickly becoming the thing you most wanted, simply because he wouldn't let you have it. "But it's always fun to try new things."

He continues to duck your gaze as he unwraps his arm from you and scoots away from you over to his side of the bed.

Maybe he was insecure about this particular activity? You slide in next to him and kiss his shoulder. "I bet you'd be really good at it.”

He shifts away from you again, frowning as you continue to chase him across the bed. "I just don't like it, okay?"

Your mouth falls open in shock. It’s such an un-Jimin-like reaction. He's always so generous with everything in your relationship.

"Why?" Did he have some terrible previous experience he didn't want to discuss? What kind of traumatic cunnilingus backstory would leave him this turned off?

"I don't know." He rolls over so his back is to you. "Can't you drop it?"

"No, I'm not going to drop it!" You sit up and nudge his shoulder. "Are you saying you'll never do it?"

He turns back over to face you, licking his lips. "Would you break up with me if I was?"

"What?"

"How big of a deal is it?"

"I don't know." It never occurred to you that you might face a relationship ultimatum over oral sex. You’re madly in love with Jimin. He’s the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. Surely that matters more than how much time he spends between your legs.

"Is there something wrong with me?" you ask. Did you taste bad? Smell funky?

“No!" Jimin's eyes widen and he shakes his head. “No, no, it’s just...” He sits up, sighing as he leans back against the headboard. "I was waiting to tell you this until we'd been together a bit longer." He runs a hand through his hair as he gathers his thoughts.

What secret has your boyfriend been keeping from you all this time? Does he have some weird STD that is only spread through oral? Is he allergic to vagina?

"My tongue is cursed." He rubs the back of his neck, sighing as if relieved of some terrible burden.

You laugh out loud. Of all the explanations you had concocted, none were as ludicrous as this.

"Don't laugh." Jimin frowns, kicking the bed.

"Your tongue is cursed?" It's impossible to not laugh when you say it out loud. "Like by a witch?"

"No, not by a witch, don't be absurd." He squirms and pulls his knees up to his chest. "I'm part demon."

You snort in laughter again. But Jimin looks so hurt by the sound that you bite your tongue.

"My great-grandfather on my father's side was a demon,” Jimin elaborates, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, are you serious?” You arch an eyebrow, afraid of appearing to actually believe him just for him to tease you.

Jimin groans in frustration, twisting the bedsheets in his hands. "I didn't believe my mom when she told me either. But it's true. My grandmother swore it was true."

"Let me get this straight." You sit up a bit straighter, eyeing him skeptically. "The reason you won't go down on me is that you are one-eighth demon, and your tongue is cursed."

He bites his lip and nods.

"Jimin, that's ridiculous."

His shoulders slump as he curls in on himself. You're still waiting for the "gotcha!" you think is coming, but he looks sad and embarrassed.

"Fine," you sigh, willing to hear him out. "What kind of demon?"

He picks his head up and licks his lips. "An incubus."

"Your great-grandfather devoured the souls of women through sex?"

Jimin shifts back and forth, rubbing his hands up and down his legs. "Grandma said he was very handsome."

Your boyfriend is very handsome too. But that doesn't mean he's part demon.

"He didn't hurt anyone." Jimin tries to defend his clearly fictional demon great-grandfather. "He just, you know, hooked up with a lot of women."

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "So which parts of you are demon then?"

"Just my tongue."

"Be serious."

"I am being serious! Look!" He sticks his tongue out as far as it will go. It's very long, reaching all the way to his chin. And it's pointy. But it seems to be a perfectly normal tongue.

"It doesn't look cursed to me."

"It's so long though," he mumbles, having difficulty pronouncing the words with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Yeah, but not like supernaturally long." You argue, leaning in closer to inspect the potentially cursed muscle. He wiggles it back and forth as if that will convince you there's something unusual about it. "What does that even mean, a cursed tongue?"

Jimin draws in a deep breath, as if about to reveal a deep, dark secret.

"Any girl that I get off with my tongue…“ He pauses for dramatic effect, narrowing his eyes, “can never come again."

His proclamation hangs in the air of your bedroom, as he waits for you to gasp in shock. You raise an eyebrow instead. "Ever?"

"Except!" He holds up a finger. "On my tongue."

You can't hold back the laughter this time. "So is there some horde of perpetually horny women out there, dying to experience your tongue again?"

He shakes his head and chews on his lower lip. "I've never done it with anyone before." He begins twisting the bedsheets in his hands again. "I didn't want to risk it being true. My mom was really serious when she explained it."

"That's an awkward conversation to have with your mother."

Jimin finally laughs. "Yes, yes it was."

His change in demeanor brings you some relief. But it can't be true. There's no such thing as demons.

"You sure you're not making up excuses to not reciprocate?"

"I'm not making it up!" Jimin smacks the bed in emphasis. "I'm dying to go down on you!"

"You are?" Your earlier arousal knocks between your legs again.

"Yes!" He pushes his hair off his forehead. "Every time I get down there, all I want to do is suck on your needy little clit." Your core clenches and you squirm on the bed next to him. He eyes you up and down and smirks. "To make you fall apart with my tongue." He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in close enough to whisper in your ear. "To be surrounded by you as you come on my face."

"Would it be so bad if we tried it?" you ask, squeezing your thighs together to cope with the tension building between them.

"You'd want that?" His eyes widen and he licks his lips in excitement. "Even if the curse is real?"

"Yes, I'd want that." He's so excited that you don't have the heart to tell him that there's no way the curse is real.

Jimin giggles with delight, gathering your hands into his. "You know I love you right?" He kisses each of your hands. "I love you so much."

"I love you too Jimin," you reply and he pulls you in for a long kiss. His reaction would make you think he'd asked you to marry him.

"We can't do it tonight though," he mutters, frowning. “I’m leaving tomorrow."

Shit. The boys are leaving for their world tour tomorrow. A fact that has slipped your mind in the whole your-boyfriend-might-be-a-demon discussion.

"What better way to say goodbye?" You whisper, leaning in and planting light kisses up and down his neck. You're not going to let some weird family legend stand in the way of your boyfriend getting you off one more time before he disappears for a month.

"You sure?" Jimin raises an eyebrow. "A month is a long time to go."

"I think I'll survive." You've dealt with Jimin's absences before. You don’t like them, but you can’t admit to him how much they bother you. And curses aren't real.

Jimin's whole attitude changes, a dangerous glimmer in his eye. "Yeah?" He kisses your neck as his hand sneaks down between your legs. You're still sensitive and wet and you flinch when he slips his fingers into you, your arms breaking out in goosebumps. "Is this where you want my tongue?" he teases as his index finger brushes against your clitoris.

"Jimin, please," you whine. He pulls his hand back, but you slide your hips forward, chasing after him. You've been waiting for months and all he wants to do is tease.

"So needy..." The smirk on his lips and predatory gleam in his eyes have you almost believing he is a demon. "It's like you want to give me all your orgasms."

"Curses aren't real," you gasp as he sucks a long kiss into your neck.

"Maybe you don't care if it's real." He trails kisses downward. "Maybe you want me to claim all your pleasure for myself." It's embarrassing the way more arousal drips from you at the idea. "Maybe you want to be alone and desperate, unable to satisfy yourself without me."

It's probably your mind playing tricks on you, but his mouth feels hotter than usual. It burns everywhere he touches you. He pauses his trail downward to suck on your nipple and you arch your back to press into him further.

"I like that idea," he says, releasing your breast and continuing his burning trail downwards. "That no other man will ever be able to satisfy you." He slips his fingers back inside you and you moan. "No toy, no dick, not even your own fingers will be able to bring you relief." His tongue inches downward, interrupted by lingering kisses. Your core is so swollen with arousal, the ache inside you so desperate. He smiles as he curls two fingers upward, so slowly that your thighs begin to tremble. "Every single one of your orgasms will belong to me."

"Please, Jimin." You're going to lose your mind if he keeps teasing like this. You roll your hips against his hand, trying to get his fingers in deeper.

"Is that what you want?" he asks. His mouth is so close you can feel his warm breath on your sensitive swollen skin. "Do you want to give me all your orgasms?"

He looks so serious when he asks, it almost makes you believe. But curses and demons aren't real. It's just a game. A game you’re both enjoying.

"Yes," you whisper. "I want you to have them all, Jimin."

"Good girl." He closes his eyes and exhales, then finally - finally - brings his mouth to your clitoris.

The surge of heat on the swollen bud almost has you coming the moment he takes it into his mouth.

"Holy shit," you groan, rocking your hips upward.

"Easy..." Jimin soothes, placing a firm hand on your hips to hold you down. "I'll take care of you." Then he buries himself between your legs.

His tongue alternates hard and soft as it strokes your clit. Any reservations he had about this have disappeared with the way he relishes you. He slides his fingers inside you and pairs each stroke of his tongue with internal pressure from his fingers. You pulse with arousal inside and out. You wind your fingers through his soft hair and he groans a deep satisfied rumble.

"Please, please," you beg, tugging him against you as you get closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it." He pulls off one last time to catch his breath. "Let me have it." His thumb rolls slowly over your clit as he watches you from between your thighs. "Come for me. Be mine."

He dives back in, the pace of his fingers curling inside you matching the figure-eights his tongue weaves over your clitoris. Heat radiates from his tongue, burning and tingling, so pleasurable it's almost painful. Warmth spreads through you, flowing into you and flooding up your spine and down to your toes. You tug harder on his hair. The groan he releases sends vibrations throughout your core, pushing you over the edge.

"Fuck, Jimin, I'm coming," you gasp. Your muscles clench around his fingers and your hips rock against his face as waves of pleasure cascade through you. It lasts for an eternity as he keeps stroking you, perfectly in time to the rhythms inside you. He keeps at it until you finally whine and squirm away, everything becoming too much.

"That's my girl." He smiles as he places a soft kiss on your inner thigh and chuckles when your skin trembles in response.

Minutes pass as you recover your breath. Jimin's head is still between your legs, trailing soft kisses up and down your inner thigh. It tickles and you try to squirm away, but his grip on your hips is too tight.

"Jimin," you whine, wiggling beneath him.

He ignores you, trailing his wet fingers up and down your leg.

"You know," he says, resting his chin on your thigh. "If the curse is real..."

"The curse is not real, Jimin.”

"If the curse is real,” he talks over you, pinching your inner thigh and making you jump, “then that was your last orgasm for a month." He looks so pleased with himself, dark eyes full of mischief. Your skin tingles under his hungry gaze and you begin to heat up again. "Seems a shame to leave it at that."

"Jimin," you sigh. "I'm not sure I have another one in me tonight."

"Oh, come on." He dives back into you, bumping his nose into your clitoris and causing your whole body to jolt. "I can't leave you with just one." He nuzzles against you. "How will you manage?"

A slight pang of pain hits you that he’s going to be gone for so long. But you don’t want him to see it, so you play sarcastic. "I have a vibrator."

"You do?"

"How else do you think I deal with your touring schedule?"

"Dirty girl..." He nips playfully at your inner thigh. "Where is it?"

You blush. "Under the bed."

"What?" His eyes widen in surprise. He swings his head over the side of the bed, inspecting underneath it. "There's nothing but shoes down here," he says as he hangs upside-down searching for your vibrator.

"In the Adidas box." You hide your face behind your hands as he climbs off the bed.

"Look at you," he teases. "Hiding sex toys in shoeboxes. You are dirty." He laughs a delighted laugh when he opens the correct box and you curl in on yourself further. He climbs back on top of you, pulling your hands away from your face.

You laugh when you see him, a small bullet vibrator hanging by its cord from between his teeth.

"I want to see it," he says as he drops the vibrator into your hands. "Show me how you get yourself off, if I'm not around to do it."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Two is kind of my max. I don't know if I can."

"I believe in you, sweetheart." Jimin sits back on his heels to watch you, keeping his hand on the controller connected to the vibrator in your hand.

Your heart beats faster as he stares at you. His semi-erect dick dangles between his spread knees.

"Go on," he encourages, turning the vibrator on.

You move the vibrator down between your legs. It makes a spluttering sound as it encounters your wet folds.

"Listen to that." Jimin smiles and scoots forward on his knees, licking his lips. "Listen to how wet you are. I bet you can come again."

The vibrator does feel good against your sensitive skin and watching him watch you fills you with an arousing mix of embarrassment and confidence. The pleasure builds quickly, everything still wound up from your previous orgasm.

He increases the speed on the vibrator. "Are you getting close?" he asks, his own erection rising as he watches you.

You groan and nod, rolling the vibrator in circles across your palm, grinding it into your clitoris. The sounds of the vibrator, the sloppy wetness of your arousal, and your panting breaths fill the room as Jimin waits to watch you come.

But the closer the edge of your pleasure gets, the more distracted you become. He's just sitting there waiting, with that smug grin on his face. What if you can't come? What if he thinks this stupid curse is real? You just came, it's perfectly reasonable that you might not be able to come again right now.

The further you get into your own head, the further your climax drifts away.

"It's not working, is it?" He strokes his now fully erect cock and wiggles his eyebrows. "Need some assistance?" He turns up the vibrations to their maximum setting.

The drive to come surges back as you press harder against yourself with the vibrator and watch him stroke himself. He shuffles forward on his knees, until his dick is right next to your face.

"Suck my cock," he urges, nudging your cheek with his erection. "Do a good job and I'll let you come."

You want to roll your eyes at the suggestion that he has any control over whether or not you come, but his erection is too tempting. You sit up slightly and draw him into your mouth.

"That's a good girl," he groans. "My desperate little cockslut."

He's so hard on your tongue. You let go of the vibrator to angle yourself better. He moans when you sink down so far that your nose bumps into his pubic bone.

"Fuck," he exhales and his hands tremble as he caresses your cheek. "You take it so well." He picks the vibrator back up from where you dropped it onto the bedspread and positions it back between your legs. You jolt and moan, sending vibrations through his dick. He threads his fingers into the hair at the back of your neck, easing you up and down his cock.

You hover at the edge of coming, so debauched and needy and desperate to please him. He rolls the vibrator faster around your clitoris and you're so close. "Can you come for me?" he whispers, stroking your hair. "I want to see you come with my cock in your mouth."

You groan and rock your hips back and forth against his hand, chasing the edge as he guides you up and down his dick. But you can't quite get there. Every time you reach the tipping point, his cock bumps into the back of your throat and you gag.

"You can't do it, can you?" he teases, pace increasing as he gets more and more excited. The vibrator drops to the bed as he uses both hands to grip the back of your head. "You're mine now. All your orgasms are mine," he chokes out as he loses control of himself and comes down your throat, holding you to him and forcing you to swallow his whole release.

His thighs tremble as he sinks down onto the bed. "I love you," he says, kissing your cheek. He folds his arms behind his head, closing his eyes and sighing happily. Your core aches, but Jimin looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

“Hey!” You poke him in the ribs. "You can't leave me like this."

He opens one eye and laughs. "You admitting that you need me?"

You pout, not wanting to admit anything, but really wanting to get off one last time before bed. He's leaving tomorrow. Just because you want him right now doesn't mean you're cursed.

"Please, Jimin." You nudge the vibrator back into his hand, core clenching again when he takes it from you. "Help me."

"Of course." He smiles and kisses you again, before scooting down the bed and positioning himself between your legs one last time.

"So wet and swollen," he teases, as he traces a finger up and down your labia, chuckling as it twitches.

"Quit teasing," you groan, smacking his hand in irritation.

"Yes, dear." He brings the buzzing vibrator back to your clitoris and your hips buck upward to meet him. You're so close to coming you cry out, reaching out for him and grabbing on to whatever you can reach. One hand grips his shoulder as the other tangles into his hair. "That's it," he murmurs. "Come for me."

His warm wet tongue slides in next to the vibrator and you shatter into a million pieces.

Your fragmented mind floats above you as you tense in pleasure, every muscle contracted as it all becomes too much. You sob as your third orgasm of the night is ripped from you. Jimin massages both the vibrator and his tongue against you, pulling every last drop of arousal from you.

You collapse into a pile of jelly. "Fuck," you breathe out. "That was amazing."

"Glad you enjoyed it." Jimin beams from between your legs, giving one small kiss to your pubic mound before sliding back up and cradling you in his arms. "Hope it was worth it," he mumbles, kissing your forehead as you close your eyes.

You nuzzle into his warm, muscular chest. It certainly seems worth it right now. But curses aren't real. It's the last thing you think before you fall into a deep satisfied sleep. Curses aren't real.

______

You roll over the next morning to find Jimin’s side of the bed empty. Running water in the bathroom tells you he’s already up and getting ready to leave.

There’s a tingle between your legs, an echo of the night before. Your legs and crotch are slick with a mix of saliva, arousal and sweat. It should be disgusting, but it makes you smile mischievously. Memories of last night replay in your mind as you slide your hand down between your legs and contemplate how you got so messy.

The bathroom door is closed. You wiggle over to Jimin’s side of the bed and pick up his phone. It’s 5:30 am. Do you have enough time to talk him into coming back to bed? Your core pulses and you run a teasing finger around it. It’s so sore that it almost hurts to touch it. Almost, but not quite enough to stop you. You miss the heat of his mouth, the possessive way he talked, his groans of pleasure as he consumed you.

“Jimin,” you call out, unable to wait for him any longer.

The running water stops. “Yeah?” he calls out, not opening the door.

“Are you almost done in there?”

“One second.” The water switches back on briefly before he shuts it off and opens the door.

Jimin is shirtless, patting his face dry with a towel. You lick your lips at the sight of him, the tingle between your legs escalating to full ache. He’s dressed in only black slacks, hair wet and tousled from his shower. Your core pulses as you watch a drop of water from his hair drop onto his chest and trail down the muscular planes of his stomach.

His eyes rake over you, making you feel naked despite the covers. You pull your hand away from yourself, embarrassed. Your possibly demonic boyfriend smirks.

“Last night not enough for you?” He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, looking all too pleased with himself. “Greedy girl.”

You want to scoff at him, but your pussy clenches traitorously instead. His dark eyes burn even hotter, as if he knows.

He chuckles. “I’d offer to help you out, but I just washed my face.”

You roll your eyes and squirm under the covers. “There are other ways to help me.” You don’t need his tongue. His fingers or his cock would do just as nicely.

“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow as he walks over to his nightstand and picks up his phone. “I’ve only got ten minutes before the car arrives though.”

The pang of distress at his leaving returns. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

“I thought you could use the rest.” He laughs and kisses you on the forehead. “I didn’t want to wake you earlier than I had to.”

It feels especially hard to say goodbye today. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I bet you will,” he replies, striding across the room to fish a white button-down shirt from the closet, still smirking. “A month is a long time to go.”

“I like more about you than just the sex.” You cross your arms and pout. “Won’t you miss me?”

Jimin laughs brightly as he buttons up his shirt. He sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Of course, I’ll miss you.” He takes your hands in his, squeezing gently. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” It doesn’t feel like enough to convey how much you’re going to miss him. But you don’t want to be that needy girl who begs her boyfriend to stay.

He smiles and picks up your hands, lifting them to his lips and kissing the back of each. Then he pauses and sniffs. He can smell the arousal on your hand and you are mortified. His eyes flick back up to your blushing face and he cocks an eyebrow, pleased smirk on his lips. "You sure you don't want my assistance one last time?"

You clench your thighs together and squirm under his heated gaze. "I wouldn't want you to be late." You can always get yourself off after he leaves.

"Yeah," he replies, glancing at his watch. "I should get going." He cups your cheek in his palm, tilting your chin up to give him a kiss goodbye.

You pour all your unspoken longing into your last kiss. His mouth is warm, his lips soft, and when his tongue enters your mouth, your whole body breaks out in droplets of sweat. You thread your fingers into his damp hair, pulling him closer as you moan against his lips.

He laughs as he pulls away from you. "So needy," he teases, wiping his lips with his thumb. "I like it." You want to scoff at how patronizing he sounds, but then he places a soft kiss on your forehead. "Be good for me," he whispers and you can't help the whine you emit as he lets go of you.

What is the matter with you? You've always prided yourself on being a mature adult who was respectful of his schedule, not some hormonal teenager who can't live without her boyfriend. You must be horny. As soon as he leaves, you can solve that problem and go about your day as usual.

You watch Jimin leave, admiring the way the tight black pants show off his best assets. "Hurry back!” you call after him. He blows you a kiss, and then he's gone.

The moment he's gone, you feel colder and emptier. You slide back down under the covers, drawing them up over your shoulders, and sighing broken-heartedly. It's dramatic, but no one is around to see you, so you let yourself wallow for a moment.

The tingle between your legs recaptures your attention. You glance over to the nightstand where your vibrator waits. Your pelvic muscles twitch in excitement. You scoop the vibrator up and sneak it under the bed covers.

You take your time easing into your arousal. You're still sore and sensitive from last night, so you don't go straight for the maximum setting. You tease yourself slowly, like Jimin would. His kiss lingers on your lips. Your fingers miss his soft hair. The vibrator echoes the burning, tingling pleasure of his tongue.

Just as you reach your plateau, cranking the vibrator to the highest setting and settling in for the home stretch, your phone buzzes.

Today 10:35 am

Jimin: What are you doing?

You: Nothing...

Jimin: Nothing? You sure about that? You sure you're not fingering that needy clit right now?

You: I am doing no such thing.

Jimin: You've got the vibrator out then.

You: Fuck. How do you know that?

Jimin: You seemed pretty needy when I left. ;)

You: Where are you?

Jimin: Pulling into the airport.

You groan out loud. The idea of him texting you filth while surrounded by his members made you flush with heat. You ignore him for a moment as you ride the wave of pleasure that surges through you at the thought.

Jimin: You going to answer me?

You: I have the vibrator.

Jimin: Dirty girl... Did you cum?

You: No, not yet

Jimin: Can't get it done without me huh?

You: just taking my sweet time. thank you very much. curses aren't real

Jimin: prove me wrong then. cum for me

Your clitoris throbs as you lower the vibrator back to it, buzzing excitedly. The edge of your orgasm hangs just out of reach. You read back Jimin's command and press the vibrator harder against yourself, rocking your pelvis up and down. It's right there. You ride the edge for a moment, then breathe out and let yourself tip over.

Your whole body goes numb. All feeling disappears, as if you are floating in mid-air, all sense of time and place gone and you feel nothing. Your pelvic muscles contract rhythmically, as if you’re having an orgasm, but you can’t feel it. You feel nothing.

Blinding pain rips through you. The vibrator is a curling iron pressed to your clit. The sheets burn everywhere they touch you. You cry out in shock and fling the source of pain away from you. You tear the bedcovers off as the vibrator clatters into the dresser on the far side of the room.

What the fuck just happened? The pain disappears as quickly as it appeared and you are the same, cunt still pulsing with arousal. You lie in a pool of sweat, panting.

You look over at Jimin's message. Should you tell him what just happened? What if he thinks it's the curse?

You shake your head. No. Curses aren't real. It must all be in your head.

Today 10:42 am

You: did it

Jimin: really?

You feel a slight twinge of guilt as you lie to him.

You: really

Jimin: oh...

Is he disappointed? Did he want you to have an ancient demonic curse? He told you to come for him. You watch typing bubbles appear and disappear several times, but no messages come through. You feel overheated and overwhelmed. You get up out of the bed, ignoring the ache between your legs, deciding to have a cold shower instead.

Jimin: getting on the plane now

You: okay, have a safe flight! I love you! Call me when you land!

Jimin: yup, will do

No "I love you too"? Was he mad at you? Upset? You frown as you stand in your bathroom and watch his flight take off on the flight tracker app on your phone.

_____

It’s a long eleven hours as Jimin flies to Los Angeles. Every time you think about him, the slight tingle between your legs returns. You make the shower ten degrees colder to try to calm yourself down, but it provides only temporary relief. You are on edge and restless all day, but too afraid of the strange thing that happened this morning to try masturbating again.

By the time midnight rolls around, you are very tired and very frustrated. You should go to bed and talk to Jimin in the morning. But as you watch the plane get closer and closer to landing, you can’t fall asleep.

His plane lands and you wait for him to text you. Five minutes go by, then ten, with no message. You can’t take it anymore.

Today 12:18 am

You: Did you arrive safely?

Jimin: Just landed

You: Can you talk?

He’s only been gone half a day, but it already feels too long. You’re annoyed with yourself for feeling this needy.

Jimin: Not right now. Maybe in a couple of hours

You: I have to go to bed…

Jimin: You should go to bed then

You frown. Usually he would plead with you to wait a little longer, or ask if he could wake you up when he was free. You’ve had many whispered conversations at 4 am because it was the only time he could talk.

You can’t let on how much you already miss him though. You don’t want to be one of those girls who becomes a burden. This was the trade-off to dating an idol.

You: Okay, good night then

Jimin: good night

You frown at your phone again, before finally giving up and setting it down on the nightstand.

You stare at the dark ceiling of your bedroom wishing he was here with you, instead of halfway around the world. You roll over and hug the pillow next to you. It smells like him. It triggers a deep knock of the same arousal that’s been haunting you all day. Maybe it would help you sleep if you got some relief.

You slip your fingers down into your underwear and find yourself already wet. You trail your fingers through the sticky wetness curiously. You are not usually this wound up so quickly. It’s ridiculous that the smell of him alone can get you this excited.

You bury your face in his pillow and inhale again, amazed as you feel another burst of wetness gush from you. God, you miss him. How do you miss him this much when he’s been gone less than a day? His arms, his hands, his tongue, his lips are all you can think about.

You sigh softly as you trail a damp finger up around your eager clitoris. You close your eyes and imagine the hand belongs to Jimin instead. He’s here with you. His lips on yours, his hand curled into your hair, whispering how you belong to him.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he whispers in your head. “Make yourself wet and desperate for me.” You groan as you pick up the pace of your hand. “Good girl, you’re doing so good.”

“Jimin, please,” you plead into the silence of your empty bedroom.

The Jimin in your head laughs. “You know it’s hopeless right?” he teases, smirking at you in that self-satisfied way where he knows he has you exactly where he wants you. “Every one of your orgasms belongs to me.”

You feel the edge of pleasure begin to slip away. You speed up your hand and chase after it, but it’s no use. The pleasure fades aways and you are left numb, empty and wet.

“Told you I was cursed,” imaginary Jimin teases. You huff in frustration, unwilling to give him the satisfaction, and roll over away from the pillow that smells like him. You shut your eyes tight. Curses aren’t real.

_______

Your dreams are full of Jimin. Jimin’s hands, Jimin’s chest, Jimin’s tongue. Over and over, he teases you toward your climax in your sleep. Always pausing, always stopping before you get to your end. By the time you wake up in the morning, you are swollen and dripping with need.

Your alarm sounds. It’s Monday. Work starts in an hour. You reach down and confirm how wet you are, more wet than you have ever been before. Your thighs slide past each other, slick with arousal. You can’t go to work like this.

It’s time to break out the big guns.

You lean over the side of your bed and fish out the other shoebox. The one you couldn’t tell Jimin about. The one that contains your dildo. Sometimes the vibrator alone wasn’t enough. Sometimes you needed a bit more. Sometimes you needed to be filled.

“Won’t do any good,” imaginary Jimin whispers in your head. You ignore him.

You slide the toy through your folds, slicking it up with your excessive wetness. The sides of your entrance tingle with heat as you stroke over them.

“Imagine it’s me,” Jimin teases. The fake cock heats up in your hands and you can almost believe it's his.

“Please, fuck me, Jimin” you beg, even though Jimin is thousands of miles away.

“Would if I could, sweetheart,” he answers. You picture him running his tongue over his plush lower lip. “But that’s not what you really want.”

“No such thing as curses,” you urge as you slide the dildo into you. “Fuck…”

Being finally filled again scratches an itch you hadn’t been able to before. It’s a pleasure and a relief all at once. The toy slides in easily with how soaking wet you are.

You pull up some porn on your phone and prop it against a pillow before grabbing the vibrator. You’re done fucking around. You need to get off right now and then go to work.

The porn isn’t very interesting though. The only thing you want to think about is Jimin. You close your eyes, listening to the audio but picturing your boyfriend. It doesn’t take long before you feel the pleasure crescendo. You let out a sob. It’s happening, it’s finally happening. You aren’t cursed.

The phone rings.

“Fuck!” You throw the vibrator down in frustration.

It’s Jimin. If it were anyone else, you would let it go to voicemail. But you really want to hear his voice. You turn the vibrator off so he won’t hear it, but keep sliding the silicone cock in and out of you.

“Hey babe,” Jimin’s voice is a little raspy. “I thought I could catch you before work. What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you lie, sliding the dildo further inside yourself and biting your lip to conceal a groan.

He chuckles. “Nothing?”

“Nothing. Getting ready for work.” You refuse to give him the satisfaction of admitting that you’re actually naked in bed, dripping for him. “What are you doing?”

“Finally made it to the hotel,” he groans. You can picture him stretching his arms over his head as he spreads himself across his big empty bed. “Was thinking about you. Thought you might be thinking of me.”

Does he know? How could he know? Does he have magical “knows when his girlfriend is horny” demon powers”?

Shit. No. Jimin is not a demon. There are no such things as demons.

“Did you just call for phone sex?” You want to sound irritated, but your pelvic muscles clench traitorously around the dildo.

“Can’t stop thinking about yesterday.” His voice gets lower and you can hear the slick sounds of his hand moving over his dick in the background. “You were so needy for me. I liked it.”

A sharp blade of anger slices through your fog of lust.

“Jimin.” You pull the dildo out of you, setting it to the side. “You can’t ignore me all day yesterday and then expect me to talk you off like nothing happened.”

“Aww, come on, we were so busy. I called you as soon as I got here,” he whines. “I’ll make sure you get off too.”

You aren’t sure he can. Not with his voice alone. You need him here with you. But you’re not going to admit that.

“I have to go to work.” You are rapidly running out of time.

“Don’t you miss me?” he asks. You can practically hear his pout through the phone.

“Do you miss me?” You want to know why he hadn’t called earlier, but you don’t want to seem too needy.

“Of course, I do, baby. I love you.”

The tension in you eases slightly. Maybe you had been making things up.

“Miss you so much,” he continues and you can hear the sounds of his jerking off pick up speed. “Miss that sweet little cunt.”

It’s just about sex. He doesn’t miss you, he just wants to get off. “I have to go Jimin.”

“What? No! Don’t go.”

“I’m going to be late for work.” You hang up on him, feeling a vindictive victory. Your core is still wet and aching, but your anger powers you long enough to get you up and into the shower.

______

One cold shower and a hot cup of coffee later and you are on your way to work.

The commute sucks. Your lingering arousal refuses to abate. Your mind dwells on Jimin. Sitting down on the subway has you springing to your feet as the train starts moving, vibrations from the rails threatening to have you soaking through your underwear. Memories of Jimin commanding you to orgasm echo through you as you fight to calm your breathing.

You haven’t heard from real Jimin since you hung up on him. He probably fell asleep.

At work, you shift uncomfortably at your desk. You try to answer some emails, but every few seconds your core pulses, forcing you to reposition yourself. Your clothes itch. Everything is too hot. You shrug off the cardigan that you usually need to cope with the building’s air conditioning system. But then you rush to put it back on when you notice how hard your nipples are, poking through your bra and shirt.

The only thing that can distract from the tingling all over you is the buzz of your phone.

Today 10:22 am

Jimin: I’m sorry :(

You: Go on…

Jimin: I’m sorry I ignored you. This whole thing has me a bit thrown off.

You: How so?

Jimin: I was just so sure that the curse was a real thing, you know? I felt pretty stupid that it wasn’t.

You bite your lip and shift uncomfortably in your seat, pressing your legs together. Should you tell him? No… curses aren’t real. You’re just missing your boyfriend. That’s okay.

You: It’s okay, Jimin. Thank you.

Jimin: Is it bad that I kind of wanted it to be real?

You: You did?

Jimin: Well, it’s pretty sexy right?

Sweat trails from your hairline down your neck.

You: I have to be able to live my life Jimin. Can’t be sitting around waiting for you.

Jimin: I’m sorry we’re gone so much.

Shit. Now you’ve made him feel bad for his work schedule, something you swore you’d never do.

You: It’s okay. I’ll be okay.

I’ll be okay. Curses aren’t real. I’ll be okay. Curses aren’t real.

You repeat the mantra under your breath until you make it to the end of the work day.

_______

The rest of the work week passes in much the same way, days of jaw clenching and sweating until you can rush home and lie in bed with the vibrator. You edge over and over, afraid of the pain you experienced last time, until you pass out exhausted.

You manage to make it to Friday. There’s a big meeting at nine. Your whole office, crammed into one conference room. At least this way you have an excuse to linger at the edge of the meeting, rather than sit leaking all over an office chair. It’s the first time you’ve had to be around this many other people at once.

“Do you think they can tell?” demon Jimin whispers in your head. “Do they know how wet and desperate you are right now?”

You teter at the edge of the room. You clench in horror as a drop of something begins running down the inside of your leg. You’re too far gone to tell if it is arousal or sweat.

A colleague next to you leans over to ask you a follow-up question on something your boss just said, but you cannot hear them over the buzzing in your head. They look at you in confusion. “Are you alright?”

No, you are not alright. You’re becoming dumber with each passing moment. Sweat beads up on the back of your neck. You mutter something about not feeling well and run for the restroom.

You slam the door to the stall behind you, ripping off your cardigan and undoing several buttons of the blouse underneath. You can’t breathe. You need air. You need relief. You slip your hand underneath your skirt. Your fingers are cool against your burning core. It’s a relief to touch yourself again.

“God, you’re a mess.” Jimin whispers in your head. You want to cry from how humiliating this is. “Can you imagine if they knew what you were doing in here?”

“Jimin…” you plead, unable to stop yourself.

“Shhh… ” he chuckles. “Don’t let them hear you.”

You bang your head back into the stall door in frustration. If you could just come, if you could just get five minutes of relief. Maybe the pain would be better, at least it would be a different sensation. You speed up your hand, chasing any form of relief.

“Such a dirty girl. Getting yourself off in the bathroom to the mere memory of me. What are we going to do with you?”

Your fingers slurp through the slick leaking from you. The noises fill the small office bathroom. It’s disgusting and debauched and you can’t stop yourself.

“Listen to that.” Jimin whispers. “You’re so hopeless.”

Your orgasm dances tantalizingly near, but your hand is starting to cramp up.

“Don’t stop now.” Jimin urges. “Keep rubbing. That’s it. The more desperate you are, the more control I have.”

“Fuck…” you curse.

The bathroom door opens, noises of chatter and typing pouring in from the larger office. “Everything okay in there?”

Your face burns with humiliation and your back drips with sweat. “I’m okay!” you call out, even though you aren’t, not even a little.

You’ll never get relief here. It takes all your strength to pull your fingers away from your swollen cunt. Especially with Jimin whispering in your ear to keep touching yourself.

You adjust your skirt and rebutton your blouse as best you can.

“Sorry,” you mutter as you emerge from the stall, not looking at the colleague who has come to check on you. “Stomach bug.” You hope your excessive sweating sells the idea that you are actually ill.

“Go home!” your colleague insists, waving their hands at you. “Don’t be spreading your norovirus around here.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think that is a good idea.” You nod, rinsing off your hands and patting a damp cloth on your face.

Imaginary Jimin grins, his dark eyes burning in your mind’s eye at the idea of having you all to himself again. “I think that’s a good idea too.”

_______

The first thing you do when you get back to your apartment is strip out of your clothes, leaving a trail of sweat-soaked clothing from your front door to the bedroom. You climb back into bed and grab the vibrator, hissing in relief as it clicks on, feeling like you can breathe for a moment.

“You know, you’re only going to make it worse.” Demon Jimin continues to taunt you. “The more you touch yourself, the more you’ll want me.”

“Please, Jimin, please,” you beg, even though there’s nothing your imaginary boyfriend can do for you.

“What will we do with you?” the demon smirks, tutting in mock disapproval. “Can’t even work a full day. How will you keep a job? I’ll have to take you everywhere with me, never too far away. My personal slut.”

“No, Jimin, please…” Everything hurts. Your folds are red and irritated. Your hand cramps from pressing the vibrator into you. But you can’t stop.

“It’s okay, my love. Keep rubbing yourself. Melt your brain away. Be mine. There’s nothing else you need to do. That’s my good girl.”

All conscious thought begins to slip from you. There is only aching burning need. Jimin’s voice echoes in your head, drowning out all your attempts to fight him.

“What an embarrassment you are. So wet and needy. Filthy girl. I won’t be able to take you anywhere. You’ll have to wait around my hotel room, begging me to take pity on you. My own horny little pet.”

Waves of desire roll through you, washing away any other aspirations. Just to be his. To be only his.

“Won’t that be easier? Nothing to worry about. No work, no chores. Your only job will be to stay wet and ready for me. And you’ll be so good at it. I’ll use you when I feel like it and only let you come once I’m satisfied. Every single orgasm will be mine.”

A groan rips from your throat, more animal than human. Tremors run up and down your spine.

“I’ll have to be careful not to let you come too often though,” Jimin teases. “I like you like this. All needy and desperate for me. Want to keep you like this. My brainless little fucktoy.”

You sob. He’s right. It’s all you’re good for now. Nothing but a shivering pile of desperation.

The only thing that saves you from drifting under the demon’s spell is the ring of your phone. Jimin is calling you. Real Jimin. Your only lifeline.

“Hello?” Your voice is raspy and parched. You click off the vibrator so he can’t hear it. But that only makes the need worse, so you replace it with your hand.

“Hello?” Jimin answers. “Are you sleeping?”

“No…” Should you be asleep? You have no idea what time it is.

“You sound weird.”

You switch the phone to speaker and rest it next to your head on the bed so he can’t hear your heavy breathing. “I’m fine.”

“Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you all week.” He sounds a bit upset, and very far away.

You have no answer. No, things were not okay, but there was nothing he could do about it when he’s thousands of miles away.

“Beg him,” demon Jimin whispers. “Go on, beg him to let you come. It will be funny.”

“I can’t,” you mutter under your breath, groaning in frustration.

“What?” Jimin’s voice calls from the phone. “I can’t hear you. Are you still there?”

“I… I can’t do this right now Jimin.”

“Are you still at work?” His tone has shifted from upset to confused.

“No, no, I went home.”

“Are you sick?” Jimin asks through the phone. “Hello?”

A small sob bubbles its way up out of your throat.

“This conversation is boring,” the Jimin in your head insists. “Turn the vibrator back on.”

“I don’t have time for this right now, Jimin.”

“What are you doing?” Real Jimin sounds worried. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Go on,” the demon whispers. “Tell him you can’t come without him. Tell him you belong to him now. Tell him his pathetic excuse for a girlfriend can’t live without him.”

“Jimin please!” you cry out. “I can’t do it anymore, please!” Tears are rolling down your cheeks. “Please let me come.”

“What? Are you playing with yourself right now?” he asks, incredulous.

Somehow the vibrator has turned back on and you rock against it, even as you wish you could stop. “I can’t help it,” you sob. “I can’t stop Jimin. I can’t stop.” You’re useless and pathetic. He’s going to leave you and you’ll never get relief again. “I’m sorry. Please let me come.”

“You can come! You can come!” he shouts through the phone, but of course, that does nothing to help you.

“I can’t come without you!” you sob. “You were right. The curse is real.”

“Huh? But, but... at the airport, you said you did.”

You groan, still chasing relief that isn’t coming. “I lied, Jimin, I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone. “Why would you lie to me?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. But it’s real and I can’t… I can’t do anything without you. You have to come back.”

“I can’t come back. We have a show tomorrow.”

“ He’s not going to help you.” The demon is still there, waiting for you.

“Please, Jimin, please come home.” you beg. “I need you.”

“This is my job. I can’t leave.”

“What about my job, Jimin? What about my life? You can’t leave me like this!”

“It’s only been a week! Can’t you deal with it for a little longer?”

“Fuck you Park Jimin! You did this to me!”

“You said it wasn’t real!”

“He’s useless,” demon Jimin begins to drown out your boyfriend. “Come back to me. Be mine.”

“I have to go Jimin.”

“No, don’t hang up. We can figure this out.”

“You can’t help me.” You hang up the phone and toss it back onto your nightstand.

“Good girl.” The demon hisses in satisfaction. “Let it all go. Let your mind go.” You cry, still rocking against the vibrator, searching for relief that isn’t coming.

______

Your mind slowly leaves you over the next few days. You can get a few minutes of clarity if you’re willing to push yourself all the way over the edge, the searing pain providing you with enough mental clearness to call in sick to work or order food. But every time you do, it leaves you with even less with even less mental clarity.

At some point, you stop keeping track of the days. You stop sleeping. You stop eating. Eventually, even getting out of bed becomes too much work.

The bed sheets are wet, a mixture of sweat and vaginal secretions. You need to pee.

“God, you’re disgusting.” Demon Jimin laughs in your head. “He’s never going to want you now. Wet yourself like the animal you are and be done with it.”

You whine, hiding your face beneath your pillow and trying to distract yourself with the vibrator from the growing need to urinate.

The phone rings. Jimin is calling. He’s been calling for days, but you can’t answer him. You can’t let him know what you’ve become. He’ll never want you again.

There’s a loud banging on your front door. Who could that be? You haven’t ordered any food in a while, not really sure how long.

“Ignore it,” the demon instructs. “Lie here in this bed and piss yourself.”

You wrap the pillow around your head, unsure if you are trying to drown out the pounding on the door or the demon whispering in your ear.

“Open the door!” A loud, frantic voice carries through the door and you curl in on yourself. You don’t know who they are, but you can’t let them see. You can’t let them know. The pounding stops, followed by a loud thud that rattles the door on its hinges. “Goddamn it!” The voice shouts. Then, a softer voice calls through the door. “Baby, please open the door. Please, let me in.” It’s Jimin. Real Jimin. He’s here.

The overwhelming drive for him is the only thing that could propel you up and out of the bed. You’re shaky on your feet, a bit dizzy. The world is not entirely stable. But you manage to make it to the door and unlatch the lock before collapsing in a heap next to the entry.

For a second, there’s nothing. The door stays shut and you are worried that you hallucinated the whole thing. Of course he’s not here. He has more important things to be doing than dealing with his pathetic girlfriend.

But then the door bursts open.

“Babe?” Jimin calls for you as he steps into the apartment, kicking off his shoes. He’s wearing the same white dress shirt and black slacks that he left you in. Maybe he’s a figment of your imagination.

“Jimin…” You reach out for him, unable to believe he’s actually here, needing to feel whether or not he is solid.

“Shit.” His eyes widen as he finds you crumpled up and naked on the floor. “Are you okay?” He drops his overnight bag on the threshold and kneels in front of you, cupping your face in his hands. “Tell me what’s happening.”

You don’t know how to answer him. You don’t know what’s happening. But his fingertips are cool against your feverish, sweaty skin. He brushes the hair out of your face so he can look you in the eyes. You only know you need him.

“Jimin, I need you, please.” Your hands reach for him, searching for more of his skin to cool yourself against. You’re untucking his shirt from his pants and trying to undo his belt buckle, but he bats your hands away.

“Woah...” He grabs your hands to stop you as you battle him for his belt. “Babe, slow down, talk to me.”

He doesn’t want you. He’s repulsed by you. The demon was right. He’ll never touch you again. You’re worthless. You’re repulsive. You burst into tears. “Please, Jimin, please, I can’t,” you sob, nearly incomprehensible.

“Shh, shh...” He runs his hands over your shoulders. “Shh… it’s going to be okay. I’m going to take care of you.” He scoops you up into his arms and carries you down the hall, back toward your room. “I was so worried,” he says as he cradles you against him.

You can only respond by nuzzling your face into his chest, the cool cotton of his white shirt absorbing the heat from your skin.

“Your work called and said you haven’t been in since last week.” He kisses the top of your head and inhales the smell of your hair. “Why haven’t you been answering the phone?”

You ought to feel bad, but it was hard to feel too bad when you had what you finally wanted, Jimin back here with you.

“I thought something terrible had happened to you.” He pauses at the door to the bathroom, waiting for an explanation.

“It’s the curse,” you whine, covering your face with your hands. “I’m cursed. You cursed me.”

“I’m so sorry.” He set you down on the toilet, before turning on the shower. “I didn’t know it would be like this.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead and turns to leave the bathroom.

You panic. Where is he going? He can’t leave you like this. “Jimin, no, don’t leave.” You chase him out of the bathroom, catching him around the middle and clinging to his waist. “You can’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving,” he chuckles, trying to unfasten your arms from around him, but you refuse to let go. “I was just getting undressed.” He sighs, picking you up once again and carrying you back to the bathroom. He tries to set you down again, but you whine, clinging to his neck.

Giving up, he steps directly into the shower, still dressed, cradling you in his arms. The white dress shirt turns translucent as the water hits it, clinging to his skin. The water runs down his torso and thighs and you groan with need. The water is warm, but it feels cool compared to how hot your skin is.

“Jimin, please.” You’re begging again. “I need you.”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here,” he answers. Your legs tremble underneath you as he puts you back on your feet. He grabs the bottle of body wash and squirts out a generous dollop, lathering it up in his hands. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

It’s all you can do to stay standing as he caresses you. He removes the shower head from its hook so he can follow each soapy caress with water to wash you clean.

He starts with your neck, then your breasts, then your stomach, gentle hands massaging over you. It only makes the ache for him worse. He reaches the puffy and swollen labia and you gasp, legs trembling.

“Please, Jimin, please,” your endless chant of pleading begins again.

“Shh…. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He runs the showerhead over your aching core to rinse off the soap and your legs give out entirely. You collapse against the wall behind you, unable to support yourself. Still dressed in his soaking wet clothes, he kneels in front of you. He spreads your legs, investigating your swollen folds with his soapy hands. Your clitoris throbs, hard and angry and red. You shiver as he runs the water stream over again. “Does it hurt?” he asks, watching your face as he strokes over your tender core with his fingertips.

“No, no,” you shake your head emphatically. “Not anymore.” The only pain now is the distance between you. “Please, please, please…”

He slides closer to you, brushing his dark wet hair back off his forehead and licking his lips. He picks up one of your legs and wraps it over his shoulder, then the other, carrying you on his shoulders as he buries his face in your core. You are so on edge, have been on edge for so long, that you’re already at the peak of your arousal the moment his tongue touches you.

Something monstrous is building inside you. A sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before moves through you as he moves his tongue in slow broad strokes over your clit. Flames of heat lick at your extremities, beginning in your fingertips and toes and spreading upward. Rising warmth builds in your belly as you ride his face, hips undulating in time with the bobbing of his head. Fear floods you as the memory of the searing pain returns from those moments you’ve gotten this close in the past. You tense up, gripping his shoulders tightly, afraid to let yourself tip over.

“It’s okay,” Jimin whispers, pausing for a second to admire you from between your thighs. “It’s okay to let go.” His warm wet tongue slides over your aching clit as his fingers penetrate you. A massive tremor rolls through you as all the pent of tension releases at once and you’re coming. Every muscle in your body seizes over and over as you grind against his face.

Rhythmic muscle contractions seize you as a rush of fluid shoots out of you, spraying Jimin right in the face. You’re screaming, but not from pain. There is no pain, only release, only relief.

“Woah.” Jimin gapes at you, your release dripping down his face and off his chin. Then he breaks into a huge smile. “That was amazing.”

You laugh out loud, relief washing over you. Your whole body turns to jello and you collapse into his lap.

“Thank goodness we were already in the shower,” he says, wiping his face with his hand and chuckling.

The two of you sit, holding on to each other under the stream of water, laughing. Finally, the mental fog begins to lift from your thoughts.

“How did you get here?” you ask, yawning as you do so.

“On a plane.” He laughs, nuzzling against your neck, arms wrapped around you.

You hit playfully on his chest, still covered in his soaking wet dress shirt. “You know what I mean, what about the tour?” You yawn again.

He mirrors your yawn, stretching his arms and groaning. “I have to go back in the morning. They managed to get me out of the press junkets for today by claiming I was sick, but I have to be back for the concert.”

“Do they know?” Your eyes are already closing as you lean against his warm firm torso.

“About the curse?” Jimin asks. “No…” he laughs. “No, I don’t think they’d let me leave if I told them it was because my girlfriend really needed to ride my face. I told them I had a family emergency.”

“I’m sorry, Jimin.”

He shakes his head. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” He turns your face toward him and kisses you. “It’s my fault. I never should have left you.”

You sigh, head resting on his shoulder. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.” He squeezes your hand where it is entwined with his in your lap. “But we’ll figure something out.” He sighs, leaning back against the wall, finger stroking your arm. “But right now we should get some sleep.”

He turns off the shower, stripping off his wet clothes and leaving them behind before scooping you up. Your head is floaty as he wraps you in a warm towel. You lean against the counter as he strips the sheets from the bed and replaces them with fresh ones, then comes back to lead you back to the bed. The two of you collapse into bed together and sleep overtakes you almost instantly.

______

Your dreams are full of Jimin again. Not teasing demon Jimin, but your warm loving boyfriend, stroking your hair and holding your hand.

You are surprised to wake up and find him watching you.

“I have a solution!” He chirps excitedly.

“You do?”

“Yes! Apparently the curse is in my saliva. So here!” He thrusts the bottle of lube from your nightstand into your hands. You look at it in confusion. “I spit in it!” he proudly declares.

“Um…” You hold the bottle at arm’s length. “Thank you?”

“This way, if I’ve been gone too long, you have a way to get off without me.”

“How do you know it will work?”

He laughs sheepishly. “I, uh, called my mom.”

“Ugh, no…” You hide your head under the covers in embarrassment. “What did you tell her?”

“It was an awkward conversation.” He laughs again. “But I couldn’t let you go through that again. She swears this will work.” He glances down at his watch. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to test it out with you.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Think you can get it done before I get on my plane?”

“I suppose there’s one way to find out…”

Jimin disappears under the bed and returns with both your vibrator and dildo. “Better get going then,” he teases, before giving you one last kiss. “I’ll text you when I land. I love you.”

You stare at the assortment of sex toys and lube now spread out on your bed. “You’re just going to leave? I don’t have to go with you?”

“Do you want to go with me? I thought you had work.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I do, but… I thought you were going to make me your personal sex slave.”

“Um, I wasn’t planning on it.” He laughs, then a more mischievous smirk spreads over his face. “Unless you want me to.”

You laugh in relief even as a lick of heat curls in your belly. “Perhaps that’s a game best left for when you are in town.”

He winks. “Looking forward to it.”

#HAPPY HALLOWEEN!#jimin smut #jimin x reader #btssavedmylifeblr

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spenciegoob · 4 years ago

Text

Swing to the Stars

this fic swap is for @reidgraygubler ... I really hope you like it, shadow :)

A/N: AAAAH! this is my first fic swap and I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

Summary: Spencer meets someone in his little hiding spot, and desperately hopes to see them again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff with a dash of angst

Content Warnings: mentions of Maeve & William Reid, talk of a case involving teens, mentions of bullying, mentions of guns and pepper spray (not used)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

___

The first time I climbed that treacherous hill, dirtying my converse for all to see what my night activities truly consisted of, I was alone. I enjoyed it like that, I came here by myself, and I intended to keep it that way. When I sat on the swing dangling by two dangerously flimsy ropes, I thought how ridiculously large the slap of wood used to make it was. My elbows were bent a little over a 90 degree angle just to reach both sides, but I never thought past it. I had other things on my mind that night.

I thought about my mom. I knew she would have loved a secluded, little space like this. She would’ve probably read to me here, using different voices that held deep emotion to convey each story with a precise amount of dedication and love. Each story to her was special, and I silently thank her every day for passing that trait down to me.

Unfortunately, if I thought about my mom, I thought about my dad. William was never a kind man, and I could pride myself on one thing; I would never be like him. He didn’t deserve to know a place like this. It was too serene, too beautiful to house a man so willing to abandon the two people who should’ve been the most important to him. I was glad he would never get the chance to sit on this swing.

I thought about my family. How Garcia would jump with excitement at the prospect of having a picnic overlooking the city, yet quiet and missing the sounds of cars zooming by or overlapping chatter. I thought about JJ, and how Henry would beg her to push him in the swing, because to a little kid, it was perfect. He didn’t look at the frayed rope and fear that it would snap. I hope he never starts to fear the world like that.

The second time I found myself back at the bottom of the hill, I made it halfway to the top before seeing a couple getting up from the swing they were sitting together on. I realized then why it was so comically large; it was meant for two people. Thankfully when I reached the top only half out of breath, the two were starting their descent to where I came from.

This time when I sat down, I thought about Maeve. I would’ve brought her here, shared the little secret corner of the world I built for myself. She would’ve loved something like this, and I know if life wasn’t so cruel, and I was given the chance to show her, we would’ve talked for hours. So that’s what I did that time; I talked to Maeve. To anyone else, I probably looked like a crazy person talking to himself, but much to my delight, not many people made the trip up the hill to find this place.

Now I go whenever I need a break from my mind, which unfortunately is more times than my schedule allows me to take that leisurely walk. I spend my nights sometimes after a particularly hard case there no matter the time, using the ropes that scratch my hands as my lifeline down to Earth. I watch the stars, screaming and cursing at the world in my head and waiting for the sky to respond. It never did, and the next case always came in the following morning.

This particular time that I found myself at the bottom of the grassy hill waiting to be climbed, the case I just returned from involved kids across the board. A teenage unsub was killing his fellow classmates that have wronged him. Unfortunately, the BAU had to witness his stressor recorded for the whole school to see. It involved vile insults being thrown at the young, defenseless boy only for the bullying to escalate to violence.

It was awful.

As I trudged up the hill with less excitement to look into the vast unknown than usual, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub. All he wanted in life was a friend, someone to talk to, laugh with, share memories together. No matter how wrong it was, I saw myself in him. Our souls held the same scars given to us by people who had no right to go digging for such a deep part of ourselves. If I didn’t make it, would I have turned out like him?

When I reached the top, completing my journey once again, I saw them. Sitting there, staring out into the sky, mimicking my thoughts to do the same on the jet ride home. I could only make out half their face lit up by the light casting down from the full moon, but I didn’t need to see more to know they were breathtaking.

I would have turned around to return home to nothing more than books reread thousands of times and stale coffee, but I already made the mistake of stepping on a rather large branch that broke in half. The crunch coming from their right immediately had them on edge, and reaching for their bag that I could only assume had some sort of weapon inside. I hope it was legal.

I felt terrible for breaking them from the trance they were in. They were deep in thought about something that was probably going to become a solution if I hadn't interrupted their musing.

“H-hi, I’m sorry to scare you. I didn’t expect anyone here this late. Not that you being here is a problem! I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I frantically shouted, although there was less distance between us than I originally thought, and probably seemed crazed by my volume level.

They just giggled at first, but upon seeing my distraught expression, their face turned more kind than humorous.

“That’s okay. I’m just glad I didn’t jump so fast to pepper spray you. That would definitely be the worst case scenario.” I let out a breath of relief for some reason. Here I was, in front of a total stranger thankful that their weapon of choice wasn’t a gun. I’ve been on the wrong end of too many during my years.

“Did you know Chemical Mace, more commonly known as pepper spray, was invented in the 1960s by a man named Alan Lee Litman and his wife Doris Litman at the time. Their reason was actually because one of Doris’s female coworkers was attacked and robbed, so they thought to create a nonlethal weapon with easy accessibility and use, considering not everyone is able to use a gun. It wasn’t until 1987 however that the Litman’s sold their creation to Smith and Wesson where it was mass produced and later sold to law enforcement.”

“Wow, I don’t think I did.” They laughed again, but something in my heart told me it wasn’t meant to come with malicious intent. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” I asked, even though I had some inclination of what they were referencing.

“Spout random facts. I’m not complaining, that was very cool, but I am fully intrigued.” They smiled again at me fondly, the kind of smile that left me a little breathless, even more so than the 45 degree incline I had to climb to find myself in front of them. There was nothing to convince me they weren’t authentic in every word they stated.

“I do it quite often, yes. It gets annoying after a while though.” It was true, I was told on many occasions that my rambling got old very fast. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re close to me for too long. I tend to stop being the awe-striking genius, and become the nagging, walking encyclopedia.

“I don’t see how that could become annoying.” It sounded sad coming from them, like I had insulted their oddity. I would never, and I was really hoping to find out what it was.

I had nothing further to say that would express my shock, and slight fondness over their praise, wary of its honesty even if it did come from them. I hadn’t known them for more than 4 minutes and 36 seconds, but it was enough to figure out that they weren’t a liar. It wasn’t from profiling either.

“You know, there is room for two people here if you wanted to join me. I’m sure you didn’t climb that hill for nothing.” They continued for me. If they noticed my surprise, they said nothing about it.

Usually, I would be skeptical of being in a close proximity with a stranger, but as I approached them carefully, even if their hand was no longer reaching for mace, I felt the passing between our eyes. It was as if we had shared every part of ourselves with eye contact, and as crazy as it sounds, I felt the somber thoughts that lingered from their previous reflections.

So I sat down, grabbing onto only one of the scratchy ropes, and enjoying the way I could rest my elbow against my side now that I was using the swing to its fullest potential. I stopped caring about the probability of the ropes snapping under our combined body weight. The worst that could possibly happen was I bruised my tailbone a little bit, but I wouldn’t care past the initial embarrassment. At least I had someone to show that with.

“Do you ever think about what’s out there?” They asked once I was settled on the wood slab as comfortably as I could muster. Being boney didn’t necessarily help. Before I could answer, they continued. “I can tell you’re a man of science, if the fact dump wasn’t any indicator, but I mean beyond the facts, and the known.”

“No, I don’t think about it.” It was a lie, I think about it every time I’m here, but I wanted nothing more in this moment than to know how they saw the stars.

“I do. Quite frequently, actually. I mean, I’ve read every book there ever was about the stars and space, but there is still no answer to my question.”

“What question?” I had to know.

“What’s exactly written in the stars,” they replied, using their hands to showcase the sky above us. I sat back and thought for a while. Like the books they’ve read, I too didn’t have the response to their question. God, how I wish I did.

I don’t know how long we sat there quietly. One of the perks of total darkness in the dead of night is that the moon couldn’t tell time the way the sun did. We got lost in the cosmos together, contemplating sharing our own troubled thoughts with each other. It would have felt right if we did, but alas, the ringing of my cell phone dropped a pin in our reflections.

“I- I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I rushed out before standing up and accepting the incoming call from Penelope. I knew it was a case before her bubbly voice rang through my celular. I allowed the disappointment to bleed through my tone when I told her I would be back at the BAU shortly, hoping that the small release of the emotion would be enough to ward it off in time to turn back around.

It didn’t.

They were already looking at me expectantly when I made my way back to the swing, bending down to retrieve my satchel I had abandoned on the ground. The amount of guilt on my face must have been enough to tell them I had to leave abruptly, despite the fact that the only thing I wanted to do was stay for even just a second.

“That’s okay,” they spoke softly, giving me a tight lipped smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

“How do you know?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. Life never did work out in my favor. They looked up at the sky once more before answering.

“Just a feeling.” I let a full grin break out at their response, the first one I’ve had when visiting this place. I turned around to start my journey back to the office where dark, and twisted things lurked behind manilla folders. Before starting my descent however, I spun around quickly, almost losing my footing and taking a tumble.

“Woah there tiger, don’t hurt yourself,” they giggled at me, one that I returned with my own breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know your name.” It baffled me a little bit that I hadn’t thought to ask before this, but they just gave me one last smile, tilting their head in faux contemplation.

“Ask me next time.” I will.

***

It’s been a year since I met them, and I haven’t seen them since. Not for a lack of trying however. After that case, I went there every night until a new one arose, this time taking me to Oregon. They hadn’t been back, and part of me wondered if it was because of me. Did I not try hard enough the first time? Should I have ignored my ringer until my phone had 5 missed calls from Penelope?

But then my eidetic memory swooped in to save me from going down that road, one of the only times it wasn’t the cause of my self destructive thoughts. Because while I replayed the conversation over in my head wondering where it went wrong, I remembered their eyes, and their smile.

I remembered what it felt like to sit with them, and thankfully that was enough to convince myself our meeting wasn’t in vain.

I never was the kind of man to believe in the universe. The whole notion that “everything happens for a reason,” felt like a lie created to somehow blame an external force on the chaos in one’s life. There were so many things in my life that had no reason for happening, and to blame that on anything or anyone but myself would be a cheap excuse of a way out.

But for some odd reason, the universe aside, I believed in them, and strangely enough, I don’t think they would have blamed me for the life I had to live. So, as I sit down tonight on this familiar piece of wood, I choose to stare at the stars instead of the ground, and believe that if I spoke aloud, maybe they would hear me.

And they did, because my efforts to sit on one side of the swing in case they returned to me were not in vain. I didn’t look over, I didn’t have to to know it was them. I had already relaxed once their presence was known in my peripherals.

“Y/N,” they spoke, causing me to change my view on the stars to their side profile. It wasn’t all that different than staring at the constellations spread around us. “My name’s Y/N.”

___

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years ago

Note

Hello. I am very interested with WinterIron. Enemies to Lovers, abo with omega Tony, accidental bonding, mutual pining, a lot and a loooootttttt of kissing and touching (with "I do it because of bond" excuses).

Please feel free to cross anything you feel uncomfortable with.

Hi there! I wasn't able to get everything in there, but hopefully there's enough? I loved this prompt so much, it was a fun verse to write in 💙

CW for omegas having few rights in this verse and for creepy Aldrich Killian

As always, everything I write can also be found on ao3

mate bond: [meyt bond] noun

1. A mental and physical connection that ties two people together following a mating bite

2. A pair bond between spouses

[An excerpt from The Other Half of My Soul: An Exploration into Unconventional Bonding Methods by Anderson-Lopez et al, 1972]

“While rare, it is important to note the existence of mate bonds in individuals who have not exchanged bites. These instances have notably occurred during times of high stress for one or both individuals, and are sparked by an inciting incident of some kind, usually a traumatic event. While these types of mate bonds, dubbed soulmate bonds by the media, frequently occur between individuals who are highly compatible, it is not necessary. Curiously, however, it does seem necessary that the individuals are scent matched for a soulmate bond, even though compatible second genders are not a requirement.”

Bucky maintained that it was an accident.

Tony had been meant for Steve, after all. That was the arrangement Howard Stark had decided on with Fury. Bucky had only come along as moral support for the first meeting between Steve and Tony. He wasn’t even supposed to meet Tony first, but the crowded ballroom had been too much for him, so he’d ducked out into the hallway, only to come across two alphas menacing an omega. He supposed that some of Steve’s fiery nature must have rubbed off on him, as he normally would have never taken on two alphas by himself, not when he was down an arm. But he’d taken one look at that omega, pretty brown eyes wide with distress, and leapt into action. It hadn’t been until both alphas had been sent off running with their tails between their legs that he’d realized the omega he’d rescued was Tony Stark, Steve’s arranged mate.

Unfortunately (fortunately? No, definitely unfortunately), the arranged match would never come to fruition as Bucky and Tony had looked at each other and immediately bonded without a shared word or bite between them.

Howard was furious, Fury less so—Bucky was still a SHIELD agent, even if he wasn’t the great Captain America, so the planned union between SHIELD and SI would still happen—but both Bucky and Tony insisted that it hadn’t been done on purpose. And, as neither had a mating bite but could still feel the other at the back of their mind, it was hard to disprove the existence of what had once been called a soulmate bond, though was now called the rather unglamorous name of Mate Bond Subtype C, which Bucky thought sounded like an illness.

The media thought it was the most romantic thing they’d ever heard. Steve, who was slowly courting another alpha from SHIELD, thought it was a relief. Bucky, who didn’t want an omega while he was still recovering from the surgery on his arm, thought it was a nightmare at first.

He didn’t know what Tony thought.

They might have shared a bond between them, but Tony had quickly figured out how to shield his feelings. It had taken Bucky a little bit more practice but he too had worked out how to keep his thoughts and feelings private, which was good, because he doubted Tony would like to know what he was thinking.

They’d been bonded for three months and, while Bucky had moved into Tony’s penthouse apartment, they didn’t share a room, let alone a bed. He still took long missions that took him away for weeks at a time. Tony spent more time at SI’s research labs than he did at home. Bucky hadn’t shared Tony’s heat, nor had Tony shared Bucky’s rut, though neither of them had invited anyone else into their beds. And other than their planned public outings where they had to touch to put on the façade of a happily bonded couple, they didn’t hold hands or kiss or lean into each other, giggling.

The problem was—Bucky wanted all of that. He wanted to sleep curled around Tony. He wanted the two of them to be home long enough to share more than one dinner together at a time. He desperately wanted to share cycles, but even more badly than that, he wanted to touch Tony as often as the omega could stand it. Because the problem was also this—sometime in the course of three months, he’d fallen in love.

Tony slid his hand into Bucky’s as they stood in the elevator. “It’s just a quick walk around the ballroom, say hi to a couple investors, and then we can leave,” he said reassuringly, giving Bucky a quick smile. “I know how much you hate these shindigs.”

This was true, Bucky did hate them, but he knew that Tony hated them just as much, though he hid it much better than Bucky did. “Don’t worry,” he replied, squeezing Tony’s hand quickly. “I’ll stick to you like glue.”

“Well, maybe not like glue. Like Velcro, maybe. Howard’s got a couple investors that I know he wants me to meet and that I know you’ll hate so you’re more than welcome to go off and find people more to your liking then. I heard Steve’s coming.”

Bucky had to fight to hide a frown. He knew Tony didn’t mean any harm by the comment, but he hated how Tony thought he wouldn’t want to be by his side even when meeting people he didn’t like. So what if he didn’t like them? He’d still prefer to be giving Tony silent support instead of wandering off and leaving him alone for that long.

Before he can respond, the elevator came to a smooth stop, the doors opening on a soft ding to reveal the glittering ballroom Maria Stark had chosen to host the Annual Stark Foundation’s Shareholders’ Ball, meant to honor those who had given so generously to charity over the last year. The room was decorated in delicate ice-like structures, calling to mind the snow blanketing the city outside, though it wasn’t nearly as cold inside. Golden chandeliers reflected off the dark windows, giving the impression of a never-ending stretch of light. It was all so very glitzy and glamorous. Bucky hated it. It was an obscene display of wealth, meant solely to remind everyone that the Starks were richer than anyone else in the room.

“One hour, Bucky Bear,” Tony murmured like he could hear Bucky’s thoughts. “And then we can go get burgers.”

He dropped Bucky’s hand in favor of sliding his own into the crook of Bucky’s elbow, gently steering him towards the first group of investors. Like every other rich person he’d met since bonding with Tony, they were simultaneously smug of their own “generosity” (mere pennies compared to their bank accounts) and jealous, both of Tony’s wealth and Bucky’s luck in landing a Stark (not his words). The smugness was blatant, the jealousy only slightly hidden in the way their eyes lingered as Bucky took the opportunity to brush his lips across Tony’s cheek, quietly telling him he was going to go get them drinks.

“I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me,” he promised, understanding the minute tightness at the corners of Tony’s eyes.

Tony smiled and nodded, attention already turning back to the investors—or, more likely, to his latest project, however much it might have looked like he was paying attention to Hugh Worthington IV. Bucky slipped through the crowd to the bar. Fortunately, it wasn’t crowded yet and he was able to order a whiskey for himself and a scotch for Tony, who always refused to drink the fruity drinks he actually preferred at these parties, almost immediately. As he waited, he turned back to the crowd, idly scanning it. Steve wasn’t there yet, if it was indeed true that Fury had managed to stuff him into a suit and send him off to schmooze. His eyes sought out Tony, who was laughing as he excused himself from the group Bucky had left him with, moving on to another small throng of people.

He smiled despite himself. Tony was lovely like this, despite his discomfort. Bucky got to see him laugh so rarely at home that he cherished every moment he got to see it while they were out in public.

“Sir, your drinks,” the bartender prompted. He thanked them absently and left a tip on the bar before making his way back across the ballroom to Tony’s side.

Tony wasn’t laughing now. In fact, if his pursed lips were anything to go off of, he was pretty furious, and Bucky wondered what had upset him between him leaving the bar and him returning to Tony’s side.

“Doll,” he said, letting Tony know he was there. Tony turned and took his drink, thanking him with a quick kiss that Bucky desperately wanted to turn into a longer, sweeter one.

“Honey, Senator Stern here was just telling me about an omega’s rights bill he filibustered so it wouldn’t pass,” Tony said, irritation bleeding into his tone.

“Now isn’t that interesting,” Bucky drawled, irritated himself. The bill in question was a law that he knew Tony had backed, as it would have put a stop to the arranged bondings the wealthy were so fond of. They’d both known it would be a longshot to pass, but they’d remained hopeful. “That’s the one that Stevie supported isn’t it?”

“It is,” Tony agreed. “My alpha here—” He patted Bucky’s chest. “—is close friends with Captain Rogers. They grew up together, you know. Steve spends nearly every Saturday evening with us. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear about this bill failing to pass. Isn’t he supposed to be putting in an appearance at the Senate hearing next week? It would be such a shame if he couldn’t make it.”

Tony’s statement was only partially true. Bucky mostly saw Steve at SHIELD, as Steve, despite being always welcome at their apartment, didn’t want to be reminded of how close he’d come to an arranged bonding of his own. But Steve, who had been an omega before receiving the serum, had always been an outspoken supporter of omega’s rights, and now that he was an alpha, and Captain America to boot, he used every bit of that privilege to push as much pro-omega legislature through Congress as he could. He was a thorn in conservative senators’ sides, like Stern, and it was a minor miracle that they’d gotten him to appear in front of Congress to talk positively about a Republican bill supporting an expansion of benefits for veterans, when he normally disagreed with anything Republican just on principle. Steve’s support would go a long way toward getting that bill passed.

Tony’s veiled threat was effective. Stern, one of the authors of the bill, blanched, making Bucky smile. He loved watching Tony do his thing. There was really nothing better than Tony putting bullies like Stern back in their place.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Stern stammered out before hurrying away.

As soon as he was gone, Tony drooped, leaning back against Bucky. It was nice, being able to lend his support to his omega, but Tony was standing up straight again after only a moment, the façade falling back over him.

“I really hate that guy,” Tony said softly. He looked up at Bucky. “Sorry about using your friendship with Steve like that. I was just so angry. Saw red for a second there.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky said. Impulsively, he reached out to clasp Tony’s shoulder, running his thumb soothingly over the soft skin just above his shirt collar. “You guys got a bad lot in life. You do what you gotta do to make it right.”

Tony hummed. “I really wanted that bill to pass. It wasn’t right, what Howard and Fury wanted me to do. I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.”

“Sorry,” Bucky offered up. It was a lame apology, but he didn’t know what else he could say to make it better. He knew very well that if he and Tony hadn’t bonded that night, Steve would be Tony’s alpha.

To his surprise, Tony smiled and nudged his shoulder, teasing, “I don’t know, you’re not so bad.”

Bucky sputtered, nearly choking on his whiskey.

“Oh, look, Steve’s just arrived,” Tony said airily, like he hadn’t noticed the effect his words were having on Bucky. “Let’s go say hi.”

Talking to Steve at these events was always awkward. Tony and Steve were both aware that neither of them wanted anything to do with each other as mates, which made having to see each other a study in unspoken tension. He didn’t think it was that either of them had a problem with the other, and he suspected that they could even manage to be friends eventually, but it was that knowledge that they’d nearly been forced to mate that made things so tense between them. Still, he appreciated that Tony was willing to put up with it so that Bucky could see his best friend. It was the sort of small kindness that Tony unthinkingly did that had made Bucky fall in love with him so easily.

Tonight was no different. Tony and Steve exchanged no more than a few awkward words before Tony excused himself to go meet with Emma Frost. He didn’t bother kissing Bucky this time, as Steve was one of the few people they didn’t have to pretend with and it didn’t seem like anyone was watching them at the moment. It would have been different if they’d met up a few months ago. There’d been more than a few people who’d somehow got it into their heads that Steve and Tony’s proposed bond was a love match instead of arranged, and they’d all watched eagerly to see how Steve, Tony, and Bucky interacted in those days following Bucky and Tony’s bonding, clearly wondering if Steve was going to pick a fight. They’d been sorely disappointed, of course; Steve and Bucky didn’t fight over anything, let alone an omega that Steve hadn’t wanted.

“So Fury roped you into the dog and pony show, huh,” Bucky asked, eyeing the stiff collar of Steve’s shirt. He’d be willing to bet that it was brand new. Steve was much more at home in a pair of khakis and a flannel shirt than he was in a tuxedo.

“Senator Brandt actually,” Steve said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “He thinks it’s good for me to make appearances and drum up support for SHIELD.”

“Sucks.” There was a niggling worry growing at the back of his mind, unrelated to Steve’s complaints about the brass, but Bucky didn’t know what it was. He glanced around the room, but was unable to spot anything amiss. He tried to put it out of his mind by asking, “How’s working with the Commandos?” He couldn’t entirely keep the bitterness out of his voice. Bucky had been moved out of the Commandos unit a few weeks before meeting Tony, and it wasn’t that he didn’t like being on Strike Team Delta, but he was still irritated that he hadn’t had a choice in the matter.

“Not the same without you,” Steve said, grimacing at him like he knew what was going through Bucky’s mind.

They continued talking about SHIELD as they slowly circulated the room and all the while, that worry was growing stronger, slowly morphing into fear, but it wasn’t until he happened to catch a glimpse of Tony standing in the corner and looking tense and unhappy that he realized they weren’t his feelings. They were Tony’s. Tony was worried and scared and had brought down his shields so that Bucky could feel his emotions and Bucky was standing on the other side of the room like an idiot.

“Excuse me,” he said brusquely, cutting Steve off. “Tony’s in trouble.”

He headed straight for Tony, pushing through the crowd without sparing a thought to anyone he might be offending as he shoved them aside. For once, it was Steve who was trailing after him, offering apologies to everyone who looked offended.

There was a look of naked relief in Tony’s eyes as Bucky marched up behind the alpha Tony was talking to. It was a look he’d never seen on Tony’s face before, at least not directed at him, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that his omega was happy to have him there or disliked that Tony had to be relieved at all.

“Something wrong, doll?” he asked, hand clamping down on the alpha’s shoulder.

“Bucky,” Tony breathed. He sagged back against the wall. “This is Aldrich Killian. He’d like to propose—” Tony’s mouth twisted unhappily. “He’d like to propose an omega trade. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he insisted on talking to you.”

Anger flared in Bucky’s chest, hot and furious. Omega trades weren’t common anymore, used mostly in backroom deals to secure a transaction. You treat my omega right and I’ll treat your omega right, and maybe we can have a deal. He knew the rich, traditional alphas Tony had grown up with still occasionally used them, but he hated them. He’d always hated them. The very concept treated omegas like property, like hostages, and the thought of seeing Tony—his Tony—under someone else had his vision shading red.

“Is that so?” he hissed.

Killian, the idiot, didn’t seem to notice Bucky’s growing anger. “Maya’s a great—” he began to say.

Bucky cut him off with a hand around his throat, slamming him into the wall.

“Bucky—” Steve started, a warning in his voice.

“Tell them it’s SHIELD business,” he snapped. “Isn’t that the usual excuse?”

What Steve did to placate the crowd growing around them, he didn’t know; he was too intent on Killian to care. “Let me get this straight,” he growled. “You asked Tony for a trade and when he told you no, because I know him, he wouldn’t ever want that and he wouldn’t be quiet about it, you cornered him and insisted you’d only listen to a no from me.” It wasn’t a question. Tony’s thoughts and emotions were flooding him with what Killian had tried to do to him. He growled again at the image of Killian’s hand on Tony’s arm, removed after only a moment. This—this—alpha had tried to put his hands on Tony, had ignored his clear no, and was still babbling on about whatever business deal he wanted out of Bucky—or, more likely, Tony, though as an omega, Tony wouldn’t be able to make that decision.

“It’s a yes or no question, Killian,” he finally snapped, losing his temper. “Did you or did you not ignore Tony’s answer—"

“He’s an omega,” Killian tried.

“He’s a person. He’s a person who was clearly uncomfortable with you and you should never have ignored that. The only reason you’re still standing and not laid out on the floor is because he cares about making a scene, but guess what, I don’t.” His hand tightened on Killian’s throat, making the man wheeze. “Do—”

“Bucky,” Tony said quietly, cutting through his anger.

Without removing his hand from Killian, he looked at Tony. Tony still looked a little shaken, but there was something else in his eyes, something that Bucky didn’t know how to describe.

“Let him go,” Tony continued. “You made your point.”

“He—”

“Yeah, he did,” Tony said, knowing what he was going to say. Bucky wondered if his own shields were down, letting Tony read his thoughts and feelings. “And you were here to stop it, so it’s okay. Let him go, we can go get burgers.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to make sure Killian never laid hands on someone unwilling ever again, but then Steve was there, carefully pulling Bucky away as he muttered to him about seeing what Fury could do about Killian. And that wasn’t exactly what Bucky wanted, but it was better than nothing, and taking care of Tony was his priority anyway. So since Tony wanted burgers, he would go get burgers.

He spun on his heels, intent on heading to the elevators, only to freezes as soon as he saw Tony. They were supposed to be faking it, which meant that he should do something—wrap an arm around Tony’s waist or kiss his forehead or—or something. But Tony had just had to deal with an unwelcome touch. He shouldn’t have to deal with another one so soon afterwards.

Tony surprised him though by stepping forward and sliding his hand into Bucky’s, interlacing their fingers. “Come on, alpha. Let’s go home,” he said, leading Bucky through the crowd watching them. Bucky ignored them in favor of drinking in the sight of Tony whole and healthy, if not happy.

They were quiet in the elevator ride back down to the parking garage, quiet as they climbed into the back of the car, quiet as Happy pulled out onto the road. Then Tony slid across the backseat to tuck up against Bucky’s side. He rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder, and, after a moment, Bucky rested his cheek against Tony’s curls.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Tony said. Bucky could feel the truth in his words through their bond, and he realized that Tony hadn’t put his mental shields back up. “I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I hadn’t been expecting something like that.”

“Shouldn’t have taken it so far though. I know you’re not—we’re not—” He grimaced as he fumbled over the words. He’d been able to admit for three months that he and Tony weren’t in a relationship, why was it so hard now?

Tony hesitated before carefully saying, “We could be.”

“We—what?”

“Bucky Bear,” Tony said warmly, sitting up so he could look him in the eyes. “You have to know—people don’t just do what you did tonight or the night we met, for that matter. Not for me. I—I don’t know, the way we bonded, it threw me off. I wasn’t expecting it and I reacted badly. But—then the way you reacted to Killian got me thinking—maybe we could try?”

“Try?” Bucky whispered.

“Try us?” Tony asked, leaning back in slowly, giving Bucky enough time to move away if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to. “Yeah,” he breathed. “We could try. I—I’d like that.”

Tony smiled at him, bright and lovely, and closed the distance between them.

#alle writes #winteriron #if you like please consider reblogging #alle answers

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waitimcomingtoo · 5 years ago

Text

My Youth Is Yours

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

synopsis: in a world where you don’t begin to age until you meet your soulmate, Tom notices you started aging when he hasn’t

Masterlist

“Time to wake up.”

You heard Toms voice right before you felt a pillow hit you in the head.

“Mmmmm. I was dreaming.” You whined as you aimlessly threw the pillow in the direction of his voice. You heard the soft thud of the pillow hitting his body as he caught it and knew you were in for trouble. Before you could move out of the way, Tom jumped on top of you and pressed the pillow against your head.

“Aw. About me?” He teased as he squished your face into the pillow. You groaned and pushed him off of you, hearing him laugh as he rolled onto his back beside you. You propped yourself up on your elbow and took the pillow from him, smacking him lightly over the head with it.

“I said dream, not nightmare.” You sassed him. Tom rolled onto his side and smiled softly as he moved a stray hair off your forehead with his pinky.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who made you coffee.” He drawled before reaching over and retrieving the cup of coffee he had set on your nightstand.

“Coffee?” You groggily sniffed the air as he placed the cup right underneath your nose, making your eyes widen in delight. “Coffee!”

“With almond milk and sugar.” He sang as you gratefully took the cup from him.

“You’re so good to me.” You said before taking a long sip. “No wonder I’ve kept you around all these years.”

“Mm.” He hummed sarcastically. “20 years and counting.”

“Yep. And you don’t look a day over 18.” You teased as you cupped his chin. Tom rolled his eyes at your comment, but he wasn’t really annoyed. The fact that neither of you had started aging yet worried him daily. Sure, it meant you hadn’t met your soulmate yet, but it also meant your soulmate wasn’t Tom. He tried to convince himself that maybe you both had started aging, you just didn’t realize since you saw each other every day. He knew he was a long shot, but it was all he had to hold on to.

“Shut up.” He faked a laugh. “Neither do you, baby face.”

“You’re the one with the baby face.” You shot back as you climbed out of bed.

“This baby face is gonna allow me to play teenagers as long as I want.” He called after you as you waltzed towards the bathroom that was connected to your bedroom.

“Until you meet your soulmate.” You stopped in the doorway and gave him a pointed look. “You know white men age like apples once they meet their soulmates.”

You kept your tone light, but you dreaded the day Toms face would show signs of aging. It wasn’t something you liked to talk about as your youthful appearance told you exactly what you didn’t want to hear; you hadn’t met your soulmate yet.

“Lucky for me, mine seems to be on another planet.” He sat on the edge of the bed and swung his feet as he watched you wash your face.

“Maybe shes off somewhere making coffee for my soulmate.” You chuckled from inside the bathroom.

“That would be funny.” He commented. “Maybe they’ve fallen in love with each other and forgotten all about us.”

“Imagine?” You laughed as you began to apply your makeup. “What would we do then?”

“We’d have to be together, I guess.” Tom forced a laugh as he tried to sound like he was into kidding, when in reality he was completely serious.

“You wish.” You paused applying your mascara and winked at him from the bathroom. He smiled sadly and shrugged, but you missed it entirely.

“Yeah.” He mumbled as you shut the bathroom door to get changed. “I wish.”

Tom pouted and looked at his hands, a sinking feeling finding a home in his tummy. He hated being reminded that you were eventually going to meet someone else and grow old with them. He wanted to stay in your youthful bubble as long as he possibly could. The sound of the door opening brought him out of his thoughts as you walked down the hallway that connected the bathroom to your bedroom. You were in your work clothes now, minus your heels.

“There she is.” Tom smiled at you. “Going for the pencil skirt, I see.”

“I just want to look good in case my soul mate decided to take a desk job.” You shrugged as you slipped into your pumps.

“So that’s what a guy has to do to get your attention?” Tom raised as eyebrow. “Get a desk job?”

“Uh huh.” You bit your tongue between your teeth and rested your hands on his shoulders. “I find actors so boring.”

“I bet you do. How about I take you out tonight? I know your boss has been on your case lately.” Tom asked as he peered up at you from his seated position on the bed. He rested his hands on your hips and drummed his thumbs on your waistline.

“I would like that.” You smiled as combed your fingers through his hair. “It’s a date.”

“A date.” He nodded, leaning into the palm of your hand. You winked at him again and checked your watch, eyes widening at what you saw.

“I’m running late.” You sighed. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” He waved at you gently as you slipped your arms away from his neck.

“Muah.” You bent down and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek, knowing how much he didn’t like it.

Or so he claimed.

Tom scrunched his nose and wiped the kiss off, really only concerned with getting the lipstick off his cheek.

“Give me a real one, why don’t you.” He jokingly called after you, but once again meant it in it’s entirety.

“Maybe I will.” You called back before shutting the front door.

You arrived at work on time, much to your relief. You greeted the secretary and picked up the paperwork, noticing the pike was a little bigger than expected.

“Is this all for me?” You asked with a tight smile as you collected the stack of files.

“I’m sorry.” The secretary shook her head. “Mr. Brighton dropped them off last night. He specifically asked that you do them.”

“This is the company’s budget.” You realized as you thumbed through the filed. “That’s his job, not mine.”

“Are you surprised?” She laughed sadly. “I haven’t seen him doing his own job since I started here.”

“I better get started if I want to make it home on time.” You sighed. “Have a good one.”

“You too.” She called after you as you made your way to your desk. Along the way, you greeted the girls you worked with.

“Stacey, I called the IT department and told them about the wifi issue. Thanks for letting me know.” You smiled at your coworker.

“Hi Emma.” You waved and set a few folders down in her desk. “Here are the files you need to redo. Don’t worry about messing it up, it happened to me all the time when I first started. Try to have them in my desk by 4, okay?”

“I told the janitor about the paper towels and he said he’ll make a note to restock them more. Thanks for bringing it to my attention, Joslyn.” You thanked your coworker as you walked by.

“Jaiden!” You greeted. “Great work on your proposal yesterday. Just try not to fidget with your hands so much. You had great ideas. There was no need to be nervous.”

You finally got to your desk and set the stack of files down. You blew out an angry breath, already tired before you even started. Right as you were about to sit down when a man in a crisp navy suit appeared at the desk across from you, setting a box of his belongings down on top of it. He looked up briefly and made eye contact with you, smiling politely and stepping around his desk.

“Hi. I’m Chris.” He introduced himself as he held out his hand.

“Y/n. Nice to meet you.” You reached forward to shake his hand. “Is this your first day?”

“Yep. Just transferred.” He nodded towards his desk. “You’re the boss I presume?”

“Nope. Just one of his many victims.” You chuckled. “What made you think I was the boss?”

“I’m not sure.” He realized. “The way you walked in and took charge, I guess I just assumed you were the boss. You seem like you should be.”

“Oh. Well thank you.” You straightened your blazer with a new sense of pride. “I try to be assertive so I don’t get walked all over.”

“Well it’s working.” He laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You had my respect right away.”

“Thank you.” You smiled politely. “I’m not your boss boss, but I am your superior, so you’ll probably be training under me. I’m supposed to tell you no personal calls, but no one really cares. As long as all your work is done by the end of the day, call whoever you want.”

Chris nodded and took a seat in the desk that faced you, nodding in content as he took in his surroundings.

“Hm.” He shrugged as he glanced at you. “Nice view.”

You caught his meaning and gave him a pointed look, to which he held up his hands in defense.

“Come on.” You nodded towards the hallway. “I’ll show you where the break room is.”

“I’m home.” You called as you entered yours and Toms house a few months later. He came to greet you in a tank top and shorts, his glistening arms telling you he was just working out.

“Hey.” He smiled as he wiped his forehead. “How was work?”

“Brutal.” You sighed as you set your bag down. “I don’t know how much longer I can last there.”

“Your boss again?” He smiled sympathetically as he rubbed your arm.

“Yeah.” You shrugged tiredly. “I swear, he has a vendetta against me or something.”

Before Tom could respond, you phone chimed in your bag. You got it out and saw a message from Chris, making a smile tug at your lips.

“What are you smiling at?” Tom chuckled, always a fan of that smile.

“Nothing. Just something dumb the new guy sent me.” You dismissed as you put your phone away.

Toms face faltered momentarily as he wasn’t used to you not telling him things. He let it go, assuming it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“My day wasn’t much better. We couldn’t figure out how to get this one…” He trailed off, his face growing pale and fearful.

“What?” Your eyebrows knit together at his sudden mood change.

“You look different.” He said quietly.

“Bad different?” You worried.

“No, just…you have a gray hair.” Tom admitted, making you let out a shocked laugh.

“What? Let me see.” You ran over to the mirror in the hallway and Tom followed.

“Look. Right on your part.” Tom pointed out a single silver streak on your part.

“Oh. You’re right.” You gulped as a sick feeling sunk into your tummy.

You turned around to face Tom, who looked like he was about to cry.

“You…you aged?” He croaked as he tilted his head to the side.

“I don’t…I don’t know.” You shrugged weakly, trying to calm him and yourself down.

“Oh.” Tom nodded, stepping back from you and adverting his eyes.

“Maybe it’s from stress.” You offered. “My boss has really been kicking my ass lately. Or-“

“Or you met your soulmate.” Tom cut you off. You frowned and reached out to touch him but quickly withdrew your hand.

“Maybe.” You whispered as your eyes searched his face.

“Do you have any idea who it is?” He asked, already knowing he didn’t want to hear the answer. You stared at him for a moment, the urge to tell him how you felt stronger then ever.

“No.” You said flatly. “No, I don’t.”

“I, um…I have to check on something.” Tom said suddenly as he withdrew from you.

“Tom.” You reached out for him but he backed away.

“I really gotta go.” He said quickly. “I’ll see you later.”

Tom practically ran away from you, making you drop your head in your hands as you sobbed.

You gave Tom his space for a few hours before going to look for him, assuming he’d be in his usual spot on the roof.

“Hey.” You called out to Tom once you found him on the roof. He was lying on his back on top of a concrete slab, staring aimlessly at the sky.

“Hey.” Tom said stiffly, without looking at you.

“You’re mad.” You said matter of factly as you slid down beside him.

“I’m not mad at you.” He said quietly.

“I didn’t say you were mad at me.” You answered. “I said you were mad.”

Tom swallowed thickly and stared at the sky as a tear rolled down the side of his face.

“It’s not fair.” He croaked, clearing his throat when his voice came out weaker than he thought it would.

“I know.”

“I wanted it to be me.” He cried, covering his face with his hand as he cried silent tears.

“I know.” You repeated as you fought back your own tears. “I wanted it to be you too.”

“I look at your face everyday. I see every line and wrinkle because right know exactly how they got there. Who else can say that? Who else knows you like I do?”

“No one, Tommy.” You whispered. “No one knows me like you.”

“Then why-“ his voice broke and he stopped talking. You rested your head against his, moving your nose along his cheekbone.

“Then why are you gonna end up with somebody else?” He finished his sentence as he composed himself.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to.” You wiped your tears off your face. “I wanted it to be you. I was so sure it would be.”

“How did this happen?” Tom sniffled. “How is this fates design?”

“I guess we just weren’t meant to be.” You shrugged sadly as you rubbed your face again.

“But how?” He wondered. “How are we not meant to be?”

“I wish I knew.” You told him as you nuzzled your face against his.

“I wish I knew too.” Tom swallowed as he leaned into your touched. You let out a sigh before sitting up on your knees and hovering over his face.

“Hey.” You smiled at him as you stroked his cheek. “I loved you just as much when I was 13 as I do at 23.”

“I love you too but what does that matter?” Tom whimpered. “We’re not supposed to be together.”

“One silver hair does nothing determine who I end up with. I don’t care if fate says we’re not supposed to be together. My heart says we are.” You decided. “You’re the one I want. I’m not interesting in anyone else.”

“Really?” Tom calmed down long enough to hear you out.

“My youth is yours.” You told him. “Everything of mine is yours.”

“But you’re going to continue aging and I’m gonna be stuck like this.” He reminded you.

“There are worse faces to be stuck with.” You smiled softly at him as you rubbed your thumb on his cheek.

“You’re not gonna want to be seen with an 18 year old the rest of your life. People will look at you funny.

“I don’t care how it looks.” You shrugged. “I want this. I want us.”

Tom stared at your upside down face for a moment before smiling at you.

“I want us too.”

You returned his smile before leaning down and kissing him, taking a moment to adjust to the awkward position and slot your lips together. Tom brought his hand to the back of your head to pull you closer as you sat up even more. You moved in sync until you pulled away to catch your breath.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting to do that?” You chuckled as you sat down again.

“Trust me, darling.” Tom laughed as well. “I know exactly how long.”

“Morning!” You chirped as you took a seat at your desk a few weeks later.

“Good morning.” Chris greeted you. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

“I did.” You sighed happily. “Did you?”

“Not really.” He shook his head. “I spent the weekend in a bit of a panic.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You frowned. “What happened?”

“It’s so weird.” He chuckled. “I look like I’m 18 for the past few years and all the sudden I get laugh lines. I just looked into the mirror on Friday and saw them.”

“Laugh lines?” You laughed nervously as a panic set in.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I guess I’m aging finally.”

“Good for you.” You faked a smile. “So you’ve met your soulmate?”

“I mean, I must’ve right?” He asked. “I don’t know who it is, I just know I’ve started to age. It’s pretty weird knowing they could be anybody I currently know.”

“Yeah, that’s really weird.” You agreed.

“Sorry, I keep talking about myself.” Chris shook his head. “Have you met your soulmate?”

“Yeah. His names Tom.” You smiled proudly.

“That him?” Chris pointed to a framed photo of you and Tom you had on your desk.

“Yeah.” You nodded and pushed the picture closer to Chris. “I just took that last week.”

“Funny.” Chris commented as he leaned forward to look at the picture. “He looks a little young.”

“Yeah.” You laughed nervously as you quickly withdrew the picture. “Funny.”

part two

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carelesscreativity · 4 years ago

Text

Crink Good Ending ft. Bad Sans Poly

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(SFW, Fluff)

Each strike was precise. Cross' brow was furrowed in concentration as he deflected arrow after arrow. Despite his best efforts, they were still pushing him back towards the snowy trees. He wasn't sure how he'd ended up facing Dream, but he didn't really have the option to complain. Blue wasn't too much of a fight for him and it was better than the third party. Cross' back hit the trunk of the tree and Dream cornered him.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Go in, spread a little chaos and then leave, but the Star Sanses must've had this AU on lock because they'd arrived much faster than the Bad Sanses had anticipated. They were still in Snowdin, having not even reached Waterfall yet. They could only fight them as they waited for the backup (Error and Nightmare) to arrive. A blaster activated, startling both Dream and Cross. The overpowered, somewhat purple beam of light that decimated the ground between them was clearly Dust's, but it had carried something over. Someone over.

Cross felt his body freeze up as he saw Ink, the artist stumbling to his feet with a small laugh as the incinerated parts of his body began to bubble back. He glanced to the side and met Cross' wide eyes. His eyes shifted shapes to a yellow star and a pink heart. He turned to Dream with a smile, summoning his paintbrush. "Mind if we switch?" Dream scoffed and went to go apprehend Dust. That left Cross alone with Ink.

Cross watched Dream go in surprise before turning to Ink. He barely had time to react before Ink was on him, having dodged past his blade to hug him. The force of it sent him back into the tree and Cross, despite having been ready to fight to the death a few moments earlier, could only snort and laugh. "One of these days, I'm going to accidentally impale you." He said, sighing as he lowered his weapon and hugged the artist back with one arm. "You know you can't keep doing this whenever you see me in battle." He leaned back against the tree, snow fluttering down.

Ink hummed and nodded, smiling up at him. "And it's not my fault battle's the only time I get to see you anymore!" Cross stared down at Ink quietly. When Nightmare had taken Cross from the void of Xtale, he was certain he would never see Ink again. Both of them had drifted apart, only to be reunited when they met in their first battle. Both of them had avoided each other and both of their teams had noticed.

Only Nightmare had known right off the bat why Cross was so uncomfortable fighting Ink and it had taken a bit for the others to come around to the reason as well. They proved much more encouraging than Cross had first thought though. Dream and Blue had apparently been equally as encouraging to Ink. Of course, a few issues came with their rekindled relationship.

One of which was their tendency to disappear from battle the second they found each other. The others seemed to have grown used to it and even a little amused. The rest of the Bad Guys would be sure to drag Cross into a cuddle pile (or something a little hotter) the second he came back. Already, Ink was staring up at Cross with rapidly changing eyes. Cross murmured that he seemed excited about something and Ink perked up. He pulled back and grabbed Cross' hand, teleporting them elsewhere in the Underground. He paused and dissipated his blade. Waterfall.

They were standing in the field of echo flowers, glowing beautifully, but remaining silent due to the violence in Snowdin. The place was abandoned, but it didn't make it any less enchanting. Cross stared around quietly. He always enjoyed Waterfall in most of the AUs and this one was no exception. He stared around at the glowing water, the entire area illuminated in a soft blue. It was always so peaceful here.

He wasn't prepared for Ink to suddenly tackle him in another hug, knocking him to the ground. "You have to stop doing that!" Cross exclaimed, staring at Ink, who looked up from his chest. Ink's eyes were a star and a heart as he gave his big grin and Cross rolled his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Ink as well, holding the other against him as he laid on his back, staring up at the speckled ceiling. Ink had his head buried against Cross' chest and he knew what he was listening to. Ink was always so delighted to hear Cross' soul beat. It made his eyes shift into stars like the rest of his team and their namesake.

"You always liked hearing that, didn't you?" Cross said quietly. Ink startled and his cheeks lit up rainbow as he gave a flustered smile. He nodded immediately, saying that Cross' soul beat differently, but in a good way. He always said that and Cross had yet to figure out what it meant. Despite its appearance and origin, his soul beat like any other monster's. At least, he thought so. Ink laid back down on top of him, seeming very comfortable. His long scarf was spreading off on either side of them and Cross could barely make out all of Ink's scrawled writing.

He'd seen his scarf enough to recognize the chicken scratch that made up his name and he saw it quite a few times on Ink's scarf, occasionally accompanied by little souls that looked far too neat to be drawn. Cross felt a pang in his chest. He'd missed this. When he'd been taken from the void, he'd been grateful, but only until he realized it meant he was unlikely to see Ink again. He hadn't even been able to leave him a goodbye. When they'd met again in battle, both of them had frozen up and Cross knew he'd made quite an impact on Ink remembered him so vividly. It was a well-known fact that Ink had horrible memory.

When they'd met in secret for the first time, it had been in a grassy clearing, hidden away in a small AU. That was when Ink had cried. He'd reached out and touched Cross as if he was a ghost before tackling him a hug and breaking down, crying in absolute delight. Cross hadn't known what to do besides hold him. He had been astonished at seeing Ink again. Of course, he was already deep in a relationship with his fellow teammates, but they could all see how happy Ink made Cross. Error had been the least pleased, but even he couldn't say no when Cross smiled so brightly.

"Something on my face?" Ink's voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he felt his cheeks go a little purple as he realized he'd been staring at Ink. He regained his composure and reached up, gently tapping Ink's ever present splotch mark on his cheek.

"Always." He said, smiling quietly. Ink seemed confused and reached up, patting his own cheek before realizing and huffing.

"Yeah, okay, real funny." He laid back down on Cross' chest, his head in his arms. His eyelights drifted down and Cross sighed quietly. He continued to stare up at the speckled ceiling. While it was close, it would never replace the millions of stars he saw in Outertale. He had the stray thought that he and Ink should go there when they had time like this again. Maybe after a different battle. He was completely relaxed as he closed his eyes. He felt Ink inch up and couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Sure enough, he felt teeth against his own. He opened his eyes and pulled Ink close by his waist, making the artist let out the dreaded squeaking noise he was so embarrassed by. Immediately, Ink's cheeks flushed in its rainbow palette before he pressed back against Cross, wrapping his arms up around his neck. Even when Cross pulled back, he kept pressing small kisses all over Ink's cheeks and jaw. The artist was always so overwhelmed by these sudden displays of affection and sure enough, Ink pulled away and rolled off of him. He sat up and hugged his knees to himself, pulling up his scarf to bury his glowing face in it.

"Too much?" Cross asked in amusement, sitting up behind him. He could see the scribbling on his scarf a little clearer. Little phrases of Ink debating whether what he was feeling was love. A couple statements about how he didn't want to fight Cross. Those ones were a little more faded, Cross assuming they were from before they had gotten together again. A single, extremely faded message of 'I miss him.' Cross could only try to guess how long ago that one was from.

He started moving up the scarf, the messages becoming less cheerful. He knew when he'd found the section from when Ink had come to visit an empty void. ' Where did he go?' was mixed with phrases of 'Did he leave me?' Cross' soul sank and he reached out, tracing his hand along the words. Ink glanced back at him in confusion before noticing which section of scarf he was paying attention to. His shoulders sank a little.

"Were you upset with me?" Cross asked, looking up at him. Ink blinked in surprise before replying that he didn't think so. "What were you then?"

"I was confused and worried, I think. That's what Dream said the feelings were. I didn't know what had happened to you." Ink hugged himself, giving a weak smile. "You have no idea the... uh... the RELIEF! The relief I felt when I saw you were alive." He seemed to struggle to recall the word for a moment. "I knew you wouldn't just leave me maliciously. So I waited. I was sure that, if you were alive, I would find you again." Ink beamed brightly, his eyes becoming yellow and pink again. "And I did." Cross stared at him before giving a weak smile.

Ink watched him before finally shuffling over and hugging him again. It seemed to be one of Ink's favorite activities. Cross hugged Ink back, admiring the way the other looked in the blue light of Waterfall. Ink seemed to be doing the same to him and he leaned forward again, sliding his arms up around Cross' neck once more. "I want another kiss... Is that okay?" He asked quietly, one of his eyes becoming a question mark. Cross chuckled.

He leaned down and pressed his teeth to Ink's, seeming to surprise and then delight the artist. Ink immediately pressed back against him. They stayed together longer this time before pulling away, both of them flushed in their respective colors. "Do they expect you back soon?" Ink asked, keeping himself tucked into Cross' chest. "I wanted to try napping. Dream said it would probably be healthy for someone like me." At that, Cross burst out in laughter.

"Yes. Yes, it would be good for you." He said, smiling. He laid himself back down onto his back again, pulling Ink to lay on top of him once more. "I haven't ever seen you sleep. You sure you know what to do?" His tone was teasing and Ink's face flushed rainbow again before he sarcastically replied that he could piece it together. Cross pulled him up and pressed another kiss to his teeth. This one was gentler than the others and lasted only a few seconds. It seemed to have the brightest effect, both of them left warm and glowing.

"Here." Cross guided Ink's head to rest against his shoulder and the artist nuzzled it quietly. "Then close your eyes and relax." Ink seemed to try to follow his instructions. Cross closed his own eyes, keeping his hands loosely resting on Ink's hips. All he could hear was their breathing and the steady sound of rushing water. Then, with Ink held close, Cross allowed himself to slip into a peaceful, silent darkness.

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oopskashish · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I request a one shot Sirius x reader, where she is James sister, and tells Harry how she fell in love with Sirius at Hogwarts? Let’s pretend that Sirius did not die and Harry went to live with him and reader as a family. Thank you :3

A Promised Family

A/N: I am so so so so sorry for making you wait for so long. I was first thinking of writing everything from how he escaped and all that but damn that was too much. Instead I came up with this idea which seems pretty good to me and I am kind of rough with emotions of a reunion I read 5 minutes ago so I wrote something on basis of that. I hope you like it!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Potter!reader, Harry Potter x Potter!Aunt!Reader

Warning: heavy emotions, mentions of death, but there is fluff. And something that SHOULD have been done in the books but Rowling was a bitch to not do that.

Summary: After the war, Sirius, Harry and the reader reunite. They become a proper family as Sirius had promised, and a bittersweet truth from the past comes up.

Y/N ran through the broken halls of Hogwarts. She pushed her tired legs to their limit, her eyes wildly searching for two most important people in her life. She pushed through the crowds which consisted of people sobbing, laughing, hugging, and kissing each other.

But none of that mattered to her right now.

She came to a stop at the gates of Great Hall. Her eyes were somehow aching yet wide ache. She say the Malfoys hurdled in a corner, holding onto each other, Neville's grandmother hugging him tightly, and then finally she saw the spectacled boy.

Her nephew.

Harry Potter.

Her anxiety which was previously rushing along her veins calmed down by a half when she saw him hugging Ron. His brilliant hazel eyes lifted up and she saw tension leave his body as she saw him.

They both ran towards each other, not caring if a crowd was watching them. She enveloped the boy in her arms, holding him close to her as tears she has held back for months come pouring down her face.

She held him just as she did after the triwizard tournament when he was plagued by nightmares of watching that horrifying moment over and over again. When she laid awake at night, surviving on caffeine, because she didn't want to leave her nephew alone to deal with them. She would hold him to her chest and whisper that none of it was his fault.

But now, it seemed like both of them were doing that job without a word. They held onto each other, feeling the gust of relief wash over them in a blissful manner.

Neither of them could imagine what would they do without each other. She raised him through the most painful moments of her life. She raised him into the wonderful human being he is.

There was only one person in front of whom Harry could truly reveal who he is, his deepest of insecurities without having slightest fear of being judged. Whether it was asking how to ask a girl out for a ball or how to tame a dragon, he could trust his aunt with anything, including his tears.

Sobs wrecked his body as he cried into her neck. All the pain he has felt got undone in her arms through his tears. The world seemed to be a place so dark right now and he could only hold onto her to guide him through the dark he was so terrified of.

"Oh my sweet, sweet boy," Y/N whispers, her voice so heavy with emotions that she could break down into sobs at any moment. "You are so brave, so very brave."

For a moment, she reminicsed how she felt when she held her twin years ago. She had almost died during a mission but she survived, pushing death away and bidding it a farewell, she came back to life.

She remembered holding James in her arms so tightly because both of your biggest fears were the same.

Losing each other to death.

She remembered how they both had to hold each other and assure each other that they're alive for the rest of the day, after their boggarts came out to be each other's dead bodies in DADA class.

The marauders could not comfort him, your friends couldn't comfort you. Only each other's presence helped the two of you in both the situations.

And now, she felt just the same as she held Harry.

The pain only seemed to increase as she heard Harry's sob. Each sob shot a wave of pain which tore her soul into innumerable pieces. Each cry emitted a pain that would make cruciatus curse seem like a mere scratch.

"I am here with you, Harry, until the very end." She whispers in his ear, as his sob only seem to increase at her words.

After what felt like infinities, they both parted away, holding onto each other's hand. She wiped his tears away gently, giving him a watery smile that said words he needed to hear.

"Sirius." She heard him whisper as he stared straight ahead.

She exhaled and turned around to find the man she fell in love with in her sixth year. The man for whose innocence she faught so hard. The man whose innocence she proved to the world after the battle of ministry.

The man who could undo her soul just by looking into her eyes with those shiny grey eyes she found comfort in. The man who could make her feel like she is home just by holding her to his chest.

She seemed to still for a moment, as if someone has put a body binding spell on her. She could only look at him.

She noticed how his hair were tied into a little bun which made her knees week every time she saw it. She noticed a deep scratch over his sinfully handsome face which seemed to have stop bleeding.

Harry first hugged Sirius, seeking his warmth he needed so desparately. Sirius held him just as close, muttering words of comfort in his ear as tears whelmed into his eyes.

At that moment, she realised, she wanted nothing more than to be finally at home and bake something while they both prepared the dinner. She wanted nothing more than midnight conversations with Harry and Sirius, with hot chocolate in their hands.

She wanted nothing more than a proper family with them.

After a few moments, the two of them pulled away. Sirius turned to Y/N and he had a desparate look on his face which made her heart beat faster and faster.

She leapt into his arms, holding him by shoulders and one of his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her impossibly close to him and the other went to cup her jaw.

And they kissed.

They kissed each other slowly, desparately, and so passionately. They held onto each other, as if they would lose each other into the oblivion if they let go.

The sadness, tension, happiness, and a million emotions they were feeling right now all accumulated into a kiss they would never forget. They were like letters of a word, clinging to each to have some meaning and value.

Their kiss was so passionate that it could inspire another universe to be formed, sun to shine, and to create another heaven for each other. The universes could collide and the world could topple over but nothing could have broke them apart.

Y/N parted away, tasting salty tears on her lips. She didn't know if it was his or hers, she didn't know how many traumatic nights were to come, she didn't anything at that moment but that she could not lose him again.

"Y/N." Sirius whispered her name as he pulled her closer, resting his hear in her neck and taking in a deep breath of her scent which and calmed him to an incomprehensible extent.

"I thought I might lose you." Sirius squeezed his eyes close when he heard her voice whisper in that desparate tone. That tone which made him want to take away every ounce of pain that was in her and make it his own. It was that tone that made him want to hold her close and shower her with all his love and happiness till she was filled with it to the brim.

"I am here," he whispers, rocking her back and forth slowly. Holding her as the sky hold its stars. "I am here, and nothing can take me away from you. Nothing."

And nothing ever did.

-/-/-/-

It had been an year since the battle of Hogwarts. The final battle which left trauma in hearts of so many people, that plagued so many people's sleep, that left so many people haunted with emotions no one deserved to feel.

It was utter chaos but everything was settling back into place. With Kingsley as the minister, everything went as smoothly as it could. The death eaters, all of them, faced trial and litres of Veritaserum was used on everyone.

Mistakes of past couldn't be repeated afterall.

And in the midst of the chaos in the world. Y/N and Sirius were blessed with children of their own. Twins.

The two of them had been clinging to each other and crying out of sheer delight when they got the fantabulous news. Sirius wanted nothing more than settling down with his wife and godson in a place where they could see the sky and feel the sunshine.

And so they did. A quaint little cottage that had just enough rooms to fill in every detail they needed to have. Harry lived with them, and he would have even against his will because neither Sirius or Y/N were going to let him go after the battle for at least a few years, but luckily he needed their presence just as much as they needed his.

And now, as Y/N talked with George on the dining table, her hand resting on her very pregnant belly as Ginny and Harry prepared the dinner.

George had gotten closer with Y/N after the death of his twin because only she could truly understand how it felt to lose a twin. She helped him through emotions he could barely handle and helped him get back into a new life without twin but still managing to be happy.

They both knew it well that a part of them was dead along with their twin but they had to live on and carry on till they could meet each other again.

George had made a joke which made y/n laugh loudly, throwing her head back as she made a remark which made them laugh even harder.

Sirius smiled as he entered with groceries in his hands and set them on table. He made his way to his wife and kissed her lips and her belly, just as he always did when he entered the room in which she was.

"Hello, darling." He smiled.

"Hi, handsome. Got everything that was needed?"

"Yes, I did. Including your Hershey's chocolates and butterbeer." Y/N grinned and kissed his cheek in delight, already reaching for the bag and rummaging through it to find that chocolate that Remus introduced her to during her pregnancy.

"The cravings have gotten even sweeter?" George asks Sirius.

"You have no idea," Sirius says with a sigh, shaking his head. "Either she is having food which can burn her tongue or sickly sweet food. Or sometimes both at times."

"You put these children in me. Don't complain now." She says breezily, taking a sip of her drink and gave Sirius a glare.

Sirius leaned in and kissed her belly and her cheek. "I would never dream of doing that."

"Good."

Sirius chuckled against her lips and kissed them one more time till he heard three people gag. The couple rolled their eyes and parted away, a little disgruntled.

"Is the dinner ready?" Y/N asks eagerly.

"Yes, Aunt." Harry says, taking the pot off the stove. Sirius got up and helped with him and Ginny to serve while George made the table.

It was almost a rule that y/n couldn't do any household work. Considering she is very near to her expected delivery date and is very heavily pregnant.

At first she threw a fit but when her feet started to swell, she stopped that fit because Merlin knows how hard it is to do chores with them. Ginny had moved in with them recently to help with the pregnancy for which everyone was beyond grateful though she had a little knowledge about it, she was very helpful anyway.

The dinner was served, and y/n had it with a side of chocolate. Her steak was extra spicy, just enough to satisfy her and the babies.

"Have you guys decided the names?" Harry asks them.

"Well, somewhat yes. We are keeping a few options and then we will choose whatever suits the best." Sirius answers him, giving y/n a smile.

"We were meaning to ask you, Harry, if it would be okay if we name one of our sons after James. I will understand if you would want your son to have his name. In that case we can choose another name." Y/N asks him.

Harry thinks for a while before saying. "Actually I never told you this. I am sorry if I cross any boundaries, Sirius, but your brother Regulus was actually a true hero."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, hiding away his pain behind his gorgeous eyes and burying it further in his soul. "What do you mean?"

"Regulus actually hid one of Voldemort's horcrux in his room and had ordered Kreacher to destroy it. He had replaced it with another fake locket. It was what caused his death."

Sirius bows his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

He remembered how his little brother told him not to runaway, how he told him that they had to be together in this. How when Sirius was pushed to his limits, Regulus tried to comfort him.

He remembered pushing Regulus away and calling James his true brother, leaving Regulus in tears. How he ignored his letters after reading them.

He wished he could have done something different.

Something that would have kept his little brother alive. He realised that Regulus was a boy who didn't have a choice. In the seek of approval of his parents, he did things that he himself didn't approve of.

But he was proud of his little brother, for he managed to be braver than Godric Gryffindor himself. He was proud that at least he realised what is right and what is wrong and acted upon it.

Y/N reached for his hand and squeezed it, she leaned in his ear and whispered.

"My love, it's alright. Please don't worry. None of us could have known his actions."

Sirius nods at her, kissing her knuckles as if it could provide him some sort of comfort. He took a deep breath in and pushed away his doubts which he knew y/n would help him with after the dinner.

"I think you should name one of your sons after him, if you wish to." Harry whispers, unsure if his words are pushing his boundary or not.

Sirius squeezed her hand, gesturing her to speak on his behalf. "Thank you Harry, we will think more about it."

Harry bit his lip. "And if it's okay, can you choose another name or change the one of Dad a little? I always wanted to name my son James."

"Of course, sweetheart." She smiled at him.

And after a couple of weeks, Regulus and Rigel Black were born. Some of the, perhaps, most loved children ever to exist.

Sirius would smile at them as the twins would sleep, happy that his promise of having a family with Y/N and Harry was finally complete in the most lovely manner possible.

-/-/-/-

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sequinsmile-x · 4 years ago

Text

Day-to-Day

Part of the Whatever Tomorrow Brings series.

Chapter 2: Theo

This chapter is all about Theo coming out to his family, which I know can be a sensitive subject for people. So I just wanted to give fair warning before anyone reads it.

Word count: 4.7k

Read here on ao3, or below the cut.

Let me know what you think!

January 2010

Emily was nervous as soon as the school called, Theo’s teacher, a kind woman called Ms Gorman, wanted to speak to her as soon as possible. Aaron couldn’t make it, a meeting with his superiors running over, so she had a cranky Amelia in her lap as she sat in a slightly too small chair in Theo’s classroom.

“Mrs Hotchher, I understand that the circumstances around Theo’s recent absence from class was...unusual to say the least.” Ms Gorman says kindly. “But I do have a couple of concerns.”

Emily frowns, her heart constricting in her chest, fears about her son being held back a year taking root. She shushes Amelia as she cries out, holding the small toy she had brought to entertain her infront of her.

“I did try my best with homeschooling, I know it wasn’t ideal but we did ok.”

“That’s not what I mean, Mrs Hotchner. Theo is a very bright boy, and he is doing very well academically.” Ms Gorman reassures, and Emily feels a brief moment of relief. “My concern is more around the social side of things.”

“Oh.” Emily says. “He hasn’t said anything. What about Ollie, and his other friends? You couldn’t get them to spend 10 minutes away from each other before.”

The truth rolled around Emily’s head. ‘Before’ was back prior to their world being torn apart and a serial killer almost murdering Aaron in their old home. Before she had spent 6 months in a cramped apartment with her kids, allowed no contact with her husband or anyone else in their lives.

“6 months is a long time when you are their age. They’ve all moved on.”

It felt like a gut punch to Emily, guilt spreading through her body quickly. She swallows against the lump of emotion in her throat. “Does he talk to anyone?”

Ms Gorman smiles sadly at her before shaking her head. “He tried at first, but he just sits alone now at lunch and at recess. I’ve tried to encourage him to play with the others, but all he wants to do is see you or his older brother.”

Emily closes her eyes briefly and takes a deep breath before she looks back at Ms Gorman.

“Thank you for letting me know.” __________

Theo doesn’t want to talk about it at all on the way home from school, despite her attempts to bribe him with ice cream. Jack isn’t even able to pull him out of it with promises of a few rounds of MarioKart. Theo solemnly eats his dinner before going to his room early, asking if he can just go upstairs to play alone.

Emily sighs as she gets Amelia out of her high chair, kissing the sleepy baby’s head as she pulls her into her arms. “Bed time for you I think, sweet girl.”

Aaron walks over to them and smiles, kissing his wife on the lips and his daughter on her head.

“Why don’t I put her down and you go speak to Theo?” He says, a tightness in his voice that had been there since she told him what the teacher had explained to her. He was already lifting the 11 month old from her arms as Emily started to protest. “We both know you’re the only one he’ll talk to.”

Emily opens her mouth to argue, but Amelia interrupts her, mumbling into her fathers shirt as she sleepily lays her head against him.

“Dada.”

Emily rolls her eyes as she relents. “I fed her almost exclusively with my body for 10 months and you’re the favourite.” She says, eyebrow raised but no malice in her voice. They both knew she didn’t really mind, that she was delighted that the once strong bond between father and daughter had been repaired after their long separation.

She kisses her daughter’s head again, whispering goodnight and words of love against her skin before she heads upstairs to her son’s room. She knocks lightly on the door.

“Theo? Can I come in?”

There’s a sniff through the door that makes her heart twist in her chest. “No.”

“Theo, baby. I want to make sure you’re ok.” There’s a pause. “Please?”

“Ok.”

Emily walks into the room to find Theo sat on his bed, tears streaming down his face and Archie held tightly in his arms. “Oh my sweet boy.”

She walks over to the bed and sits next to him at the head of it. She wraps her arm around him and he immediately curls into her embrace, his wet face pressed against her shirt.

“I have no friends.” He cries, and she shushes him, pulling him fully into her lap so she can hug him properly.

“Your teacher said you have been having some problems with Ollie and the others.”

“They don’t want to talk to me anymore.” He sniffs. “They said I’m weird.”

Emily immediately stiffens, anger spiking in her veins. She hears a voice in the back of her head, that sounded suspiciously like her husband, that was telling her she couldn’t tell off a bunch of 7 year olds for upsetting her son.

“That’s not very nice of them.” She says, kissing the top of his head, surprised at how even her voice sounded. “Have you tried talking to anyone else?”

Theo sniffs again. “There’s a girl called Lucy that seems ok.”

“Well, why don’t you talk to her?”

Theo pulls back from her enough to look at her, an indigent look on his face that she just knew was all her. “Because she’s a girl, Mommy.” He says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, I’m a girl.” She replies, fake indignation in her voice as she pokes his nose. “You speak to me all the time.”

“You don’t count.”

“Oh I don’t, huh?” She says, tickling him until he relents. He is laying against her again and she runs her hand through his hair. “Just try talking to her, baby. You never know she could end up being fun. Even if she is a girl.”

Emily stays with him until he falls asleep, slipping out from under him with years of practice at not disturbing him. She goes in search of her husband and finds him in their room, laying on their bed, one hand under his head, still fully dressed from his day at work.

“Is he ok?” Aaron asks as soon as she enters the room, his voice tight and his eyes are fixed on the ceiling.

She sighs, joining him on the bed. “I think he will be.” She looks at him, biting her lip when she sees the barely suppressed emotion on his face. “Are you ok?”

“It’s my fault.”

“Aaron, it’s no-”

“Don’t say it’s not my fault.” He says, his voice too close to begging for her liking. “I goaded a serial killer and he came after me, after us. And now our kids are traumatised, and our son doesn’t have any friends left.” Emily grabs his hand and tugs him towards her. He doesn’t resist, rolling onto his side until he is pressed up against her, his head on her chest. She wraps her arms around him, scratching her nails through his hair.

“Honey.” She punctuates the pet name with a kiss to his forehead. “I’m not going to let you blame yourself for any of this. It’s all George Foyet’s fault. All of it.” She almost feels her own resolve slip when she feels his tears through her shirt, opposite to the side that Theo had cried on only an hour earlier. “Ok?”

“Ok.” He says, his hand moving to her hip to squeeze it. “Ok.” He repeats, sounding more sure.

They lay there for a while, taking comfort in each other that two months after their reunion still felt precious.

“What would we all do without you?” Aaron asks into her shirt, his voice sounding lighter than it had done all evening.

Emily laughs. “I don’t know. I think our kids would all have less of an attitude though.”

“You’ve got that right.” He replies, and she can feel his smug grin against her chest.

“Jerk.” She says, unable to stop herself from laughing. He looks up at her and they kiss, his hand on her hip tightening. They pull back and she leans her forehead against his. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” __________

November 2020

Theo wants to get it off his chest, he wants to tell his family before he leaves for college. He decides to tell Penelope first. Aside from his parents she had always been his biggest supporter, his confidant. Her friendship with his mom and dad had served him well before, a rare teenage tantrum about them being over protective turned around in moments as she reminded them how much they had been through to have him, and to keep their family safe. She had driven him home, his head lowered as he apologised to his mother for their crossed words. Now he needed her advice.

He had sent her a text the day before asking if he could come round after school for a chat, saying he needed some help with something, his insistence that it would be kept a secret from his mom and dad clear. Penelope replied, almost immediately like she always did, with the affirmative and Theo found himself unable to concentrate throughout this classes. His mind focused elsewhere.

Penelope answered her front door in a flurry of bright colours and barely concealed anxiety. She ushers him into her home, a hug and a greeting in quick succession as she guides him into her living room.

“Now, you have got to tell me what this is all about.” She says, already passing him his favourite soda before he can ask for it. “I know you said you wanted to keep whatever it is between us, but if you’ve done drugs or killed someone or something else illegal, I don’t think I can keep it from them.”

“Aunt Pen-”

“Your dad has this way of looking directly into my soul or something. And your mom is terrifying when it comes to you guys. I’d have to go into hiding-”

“Aunt Pen.” Theo says more firmly, finally getting her attention. She stops ranting and stares at him, an expectant look on her face. “It’s nothing illegal. I promise.”

She seems to notice how serious he is and she instantly calms, the concerned look on her face melting away into comfort. “Theo, you know you can tell me anything.”

He takes a deep breath, and he says the words he had never said out loud, but had known were true for as long as he remembered. “I’m gay.”

Penelope doesn’t react for a second, no emotion passes over her face, and Theo very briefly wonders if he had somehow made a mistake. Then all of a sudden he’s in a bone crushing hug, and he can almost feel the relief pouring out of him.

“Am I the first person you’ve told?” She asks, still holding him tightly.

Theo swallows against the lump in his throat, tears of relief on his face. “Yeah.”

“And you want my advice on how to tell your mom and dad?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Oh.” Penelope suddenly exclaims, pulling back from Theo, making him jump slightly. “I have an idea. You could get one of those confetti gun things, fill it with rainbow confetti and just let it off at dinner.”

Theo stares at his aunt for a second, the enthusiasm rolling off of her in waves. “Yeah, I’m not going to do that.”

“A cake?”

“Aunt Pen.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not going to do something over the top. I just want to tell them.”

“Teddy Bear.” Penelope says, using the nickname she had used when he was small. She was, without a doubt, the only person he would let get away with calling him that now. “Your mom and dad love you. Nothing will ever change that. You should just tell them, whenever you feel ready.”

He nods, a smile on his face. “Ok.”

She sends him home with enough baked goods to feed a small town, and a fierce hug at the door. “I am so proud of you, Theo.”

It’s the only secret Penelope Garcia ever keeps. __________

The next day Theo comes home from school to a package, Penelope’s recognisable handwriting on the label. He takes it to his room and opens it, something like a mix of a laugh and a sigh coming out when he pulls out a handheld confetti cannon.

There’s a small note attached to it that simply says ‘in case you change your mind.’

He hides it under his bed. ___________

Emily is surprised when she looks up from her never ending stream of paperwork to a knock on her office door to see her son standing there, nerves rolling off of him. There were times when it was hard for her to accept that so many years had passed. That her once tiny baby who refused to be separated from her in the first few weeks of his life, although her husband would argue it was years, was now this 18 year old standing in front of her.

Her nerves were immediately on edge. He would only have finished school just less than an hour ago, meaning he had come directly from school to Quantico. The kids used to visit her at work more when they were younger, Aaron bringing them in on evenings when she was still Unit Chief and they were fresh back from a case, paperwork too behind for her to go straight home. He would walk into her office, Theo and Jack by his side and Amelia resting on his hip with a bag full of food prepared for them all. This was rare, just one of them showing up unannounced, and a number of worse case scenarios were already tumbling around her head.

“Theo, hi.” She immediately abandons her work, pen forgotten on her desk as she approaches her son. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah.” He chokes out, sounding anything but ok. “I just wanted to talk to you. Alone.”

“Of course. Give me one second.” She walks past him, a hand briefly on his shoulder before she pokes her head out of her office and tells her assistant to give them some time. She then closes the door and pulls the blinds shut giving them total privacy, already completely prepared to hunt down whoever had Theo this upset. She sits on the couch she keeps in her office and pats the seat next to her, encouraging him to join her.

At first Emily just sits there, watching Theo intently as he avoids looking at her, worry all over his face. She lets five minutes of tortuous silence pass. She sees how he is picking at his cuticles, a habit he had inherited from her, how his left knee was bouncing constantly, anxiety rolling off of him.

“Theo, honey.” She places a hand on his knee to stop it from bouncing. It makes him look at her and she gives him an encouraging smile. “You can take as long as you need to tell me whatever it is you want to. I just need to know if you’re ok, because I’m worried.”

“Sorry.” He says, trying to smile at her.

“Oh sweetheart, no.” She cups the back of his head. “Don’t apologise. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Theo suddenly closes the gap between them and hugs her tightly. He’d always been the most affectionate out of her children, even throughout his teenage years he had still consistently sought her out. A bond between the two of them that Aaron often said even teenage hormones couldn’t fracture.

Emily hugs him back, frowning at what almost felt like desperation in his embrace. “You’re ok, Theo. You’re ok.”

“Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

He pulls back from her, and she instinctively wipes the tear away from his cheek. Something she had done countless times in his life. Something she would do as long as he needed her to.

Theo takes a deep breath. “I’m gay.” He says, his voice shaky but his words certain.

Emily had known this was coming, she always had. She had seen how anxious Theo had been lately but waited for him to come to her, for him to be ready. She smiles at him and wipes another tear away from his cheek. “Thank you for telling me. I love you and I’m so proud of you.”

There’s a beat of silence before Theo furrows his brow, looking so much like Aaron it makes her smile wider. “That’s it?”

“Were you expecting something else?”

“No.” He says, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Lucy came out to her parents lately and it didn’t go well. I guess I was worried.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “Do you think Dad will be ok? What about grandma?”

Emily smiles at him again and pulls him back into a hug and kisses the side of his head.

“Sweetheart.” She soothes, her hand running up and down his back. “Your dad loves you, no matter what. It’s kind of part of the whole being a parent thing. I can be with you when you tell him if you want.” Emily smiles when she feels him nod against her. “Just take it one step at a time. And as far as your grandmother goes, if she says anything even slightly awful you leave her to me. I’m long overdue for a fight with her anyway.”

Theo laughs at that and pulls away, and wipes the few remaining tears from his face. “Thanks, Mom. I don’t think I could go head to head with her.”

“Lucky for you I have 50 years of practice.” She smiles. “Do you want to go home? Talk to Dad?”

“Don’t you have work?”

“You’re more important than any of that.” Emily says gesturing to her desk. “It’s completely up to you though.”

“Let's do it.” __________

Theo is grateful for his mother as she sits next to him on the couch, close enough for him to reach out for if he needs her. She’d always been his favourite person for as long as he could remember. His memories of the time they had been separated from his father were slightly fuzzy, and at this stage when he dreamt about it he wasn’t always sure what was real and what his brain had made up to torture him. What Theo did remember, however, was his mother. How she had held it together, the way she had still let them all know how much they were loved.

It was only as he got older, and he realised how disgustingly in love his parents were, it occurred to him how difficult it must have been for her. He had seen how miserable either of them were if they were separated for a few days at a time, and every time they hugged a little too long in the foyer of their home, only breaking apart at Amelia’s protests, he wondered how they had managed it for 6 months.

When he tells his dad his most closely guarded secret he feels instant relief at his supportive reaction. It was almost, word for word, the same as his mother’s, and a small part of Theo wondered if they had practised it.

__________

He tells his brother over the phone a week later, Jack’s working schedule as a resident at the local was difficult and made getting together tricky at times.

Theo takes a deep breath as he walks into the living room, a small smile on his face as he finds his younger sister sitting on the couch, her head buried in her phone.

“Mills.”

“Yeah.” She doesn’t look up from her phone.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah.”

Theo pauses when she still doesn’t look up at him. “Amelia.” He says, the use of her full name finally drawing her gaze from her phone. “It’s important.”

She holds her hands up and makes a show of locking her phone and putting it down in her lap. “You have my undivided attention.”

Theo takes a seat next to her on the couch. “I’ve already told Mom and Dad, and Jack, so I thought it was important to tell you too. I’m gay.”

Amelia looks at him for a second, expression blank before she picks her phone back. “Are you free right now, or are you doing this with everyone tonight?”

Theo furrows his brows at her. “Sure...I’m free.”

“Cool.” She stands up, furiously texting someone. “Jack thought you wouldn’t come out until after Christmas, and now he owes me $20. Can you drive me to his place?”

Theo stares at her for a second, his car keys already in his hand. “You guys bet on that?”

“Yeah.” Amelia replies, smiling at a text he assumes is from Jack. “Can we go to Taco Bell after?”

“Why?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “To spend my $20. Obviously.” __________

Amelia sits next to him, her feet on the dash of his new car, eating what appeared to be her third taco in as many minutes. She reaches into the paper bag in the passenger seat footwell and passes him one. Theo takes it with a smile on his face.

Amelia nudges him with her elbow. “I’m very lucky to have you as an older brother.” She briefly rests her head on his shoulder, and Theo is taken aback by the out of character sentiment from his sister.

Then as quickly as it happened, she removes her head from his shoulder and takes a sip of her Baja Blast. “So, what’s your type? Big and muscly like Uncle Derek, or nerdy like Uncle Spence?”

“Mills.”

“What? I’ve got to be on the lookout for you.” She takes another sip of her drink. “You’re terrible at flirting.”

“You’re not even 12. You shouldn’t even know what flirting is.” He deadpans.

“Oh come on.” Amelia says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve known what flirting is since I could talk. Mom and Dad do it constantly. It’s disgusting.” __________

“It’s rare we get the house to ourselves.” Aaron says as he wraps his arms around Emily’s waist from behind, kissing the side of her head. She was standing at the kitchen counter, cutting up some vegetables for dinner. It was the closest thing Aaron would let her do to cooking, his claim that she could burn water always quickly following his protests that he could prepare meals by himself.

Emily smiles as she briefly leans back into him. “Careful, or it will be your fault when I cut myself.” To make a point she purposely pushes the knife down a little harder than necessary. “And we both know you can’t cope if I’m hurt.”

“That’s unfair.” He says squeezing her a little tighter.

“Do I need to bring up the time my appendix nearly exploded, again? Or do you remember that differently to how I do?”

He takes the knife from her hand and turns her round so she’s facing him. Her arms automatically wrap around him, her hands trailing up his back to rest at the edge of his shoulder blades. Aaron leans down to kiss her, determined to wipe the smug look off her face, when they hear the scrape of a key in the front door. He groans and rests his forehead against hers.

Emily laughs and briefly presses her lips against his. “We’ll carry on this conversation later, Mr Hotchner.”

“That better be a promise.” He says, pulling her slightly closer, hearing Theo and Amelia’s voices drift into the house.

“Always, my love.” She kisses him again before extracting herself from his grip. She walks towards where she can hear the kids talking, and she arrives to find Amelia going upstairs.

“Does she not want dinner?” Emily asks Theo, watching her daughters retreating figure up the stairs.

“I think Mills just ate more tacos than anyone ever has in one sitting.” Theo says, smiling at the look of bewilderment on his mother’s face. “She bet Jack $20 that I would come out before Christmas, she made me take her to Taco Bell to spend her winnings.”

Emily raises an eyebrow. She knew Ameila had very little tact, and a part of her was concerned at what she could have said to her brother. “Do you need me to have a word with her?”

“No it’s ok.” Theo shakes his head. “Mom, did you and Dad already know?”

Emily flushes slightly, averting her eyes from her son before she looks back at him. “Yes. We did. We were just waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to tell us.” She laughs at the look of confusion on his face. “Honey, I think you sometimes forget what your dad and I both used to do for a living. Plus, your first ever crush was Joe Jonas from Camp Rock.”

Theo laughed at that, the relief blooming in his chest. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It wasn’t our place, honey. This is your story to tell.” She opens her arms up for a hug which he gladly accepts. “We’re both so proud of you.” ______

After dinner Aaron goes to the home office to mark some papers for the class he taught at Quantico. Full retirement had never quite suited him, so he taught one class a semester. Theo finds himself standing outside the office just before he went to bed, after watching a movie with his mother, knocking to say goodnight to his father.

“Come in.”

Theo opens the door and walks in, hovering in the doorway. “I’m off to bed. Mom says she’ll meet you in your bedroom to finish the conversation you started.” Theo says. Aaron tries to hide the smile on his face, but obviously fails when his son makes a noise of disgust. “I should have known that was something gross.”

“Sorry, you know she thinks it’s funny to freak you out.” Aaron laughs, his amusement at his wife's antics still as strong as they were when they first met. “If you need me as backup the first time you bring a boyfriend home let me know. We both know what your mother is like.” Aaron says, smirking as Theo’s face pales, images of Jack’s first attempts at bringing a girl home flicking through his brain.

“Oh God, she’ll find a way to bring up the you vs Foyet thing won’t she.”

Aaron smiles as he takes a sip of his drink. “Without a doubt.” __________

Aaron sneaks into his bedroom a couple of hours later, well aware that his wife was likely fast asleep by now. He smiles when he sees her curled up in the middle of the bed, mouth slightly open as she snored lightly, her hand under his pillow.

He quickly gets ready for bed before joining her. The movement of the bed wakes her enough for her to make a disgruntled noise before she moves closer to him, her thigh pressed over his waist.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart.” He soothes, securing her to him with a hand on her back.

“I think I promised to do something dirty when you came to bed.” She mumbles, face pressed into him.

Aaron chuckles, his hand drifting under her sleep shirt to press against her skin. “Another time, baby. You’re tired.”

She hums into him. “I’m glad Theo is ok, he seemed happier at dinner.”

“I think he’s just relieved it's out there.”

They lay in silence, and he thinks she may have fallen asleep until she speaks again. “He told me that Penelope sent him an explosive prop to come out to us with.”

“She did what?” __________

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fan fiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #family #family fluff #chaotic hotchners #WTB Universe #they all deserve this happiness after what I put them through #I know it #you know it #Penelope Garcia would be the best aunt #I will take no feedback on that fact

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miracleonice87 · 5 years ago

Note

For the evermore prompt list can you do number seven with nathan mackinnon, please 💞💞💞💞

from the evermore prompt list

“And you asked me to dance / But I said, ‘Dancin' is a dangerous game’” - cowboy like me

When you’d pictured yourself at Sidney’s wedding, you always imagined you’d be happily tucked under Nate’s arm, celebrating right along with the bridal party as his date, dreaming of the day when the two of you would be at the center of such excitement.

And why wouldn’t you picture it that way? Years ago, you and Nate had met in California where you grew up and where he trained, and you’d started dating shortly before he got drafted. You’d been together ever since.

That is, until about six months ago.

So now, here you were, dateless, in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia, wearing a pretty pink dress, watching the happy couple while desperately trying to remind yourself to just keep breathing. No matter how much it ached.

Every summer since Nate entered the league, you and Sid’s girlfriend — later fiancée, and now wife — had spent the long, hot days together in Cole Harbour, bouncing between the boys’ houses when the two of you weren’t traveling for your own respective careers. You cherished the years’ worth of memories you’d made painting the town red with her, shopping and swimming to your hearts’ delight while the boys trained during the day, then getting ready and heading out for date night, all four together more often than each couple separately.

Every summer for the past six was spent in much the same way.

Every summer but this one.

After you broke up with Nate and left Denver, both Sid and his fiancée had called you individually, assuring that the change in your relationship status should not keep you from celebrating their wedding. Of course, being the angels they were, they both repeated over and over that they also completely understood if it was something you felt unprepared to do. But in their voices, you heard the deep sincerity as they each told you what it would mean to them if you did choose to come.

They had both done so much for you, acting as the older siblings you never had, both while you were with Nate and ever since. You eventually came to the conclusion that you couldn’t not go, despite the anxiety that riddled you for weeks leading up to this date.

Despite Nate being Sid’s best man.

Despite the agony you felt as you maneuvered the ceremony, cocktail hour, and reception alone.

Despite the entire ordeal looking nothing like you thought it would.

You were happy to have been seated with the Penguins contingent, though you didn’t know most of them all that well. But, they provided a welcome distraction, one that you were grateful for. Sid’s teammates and their significant others were warm and welcoming and, though they well knew your connection to Nate, didn’t try to pry. Of anyone, they understood the delicate balance, and the oft inevitable failure, of relationships involving hockey players.

So, they all simply chatted and laughed and shared stories of Sid and his now-wife and their adventures with the team through the years — European vacations and charity events and Stanley Cup celebrations. Instead of sharing similar memories of your own, vignettes left behind in your former life, you were content to listen politely and laugh along as you sipped at your chardonnay, all the while fully cognizant of Nate’s eyes practically burning a hole through the side of your face from the head table.

His gaze had hardly left you all day, and you kept pouring drinks down your own throat in an attempt to distract yourself from the sadness in his stare.

But the only thing that that had really done successfully was make your head fuzzy.

After the meal, the DJ asked if the best man and maid of honor would make their way to the microphone for their speeches.

At that moment, you noticed several sets of eyes flash your way from around the table, a few concerned, but most just sympathetic. You offered a small smile — really all the more you could muster — and reached for your glass, breathing a sigh of relief that you had just requested a fresh refill. As you brought it to your lips hastily, Kelsey Rust, whose husband Bryan was also one of Sid’s groomsmen, squeezed your knee reassuringly from the seat beside yours. Though you weren’t close with her, you instinctively held onto her hand to ground yourself, and she gave you a kind, understanding nod.

From all the way across the dancefloor, Nate noticed the desperate way you reached for Kelsey, and his throat tightened. He longed for the time in the not so distant past, when he was the one you reached for. The one you leaned on. The one you turned to instinctively, without giving it another thought.

As he stepped to the mic, he tried his damnedest to push those thoughts aside and focus on giving Sid and his bride the tribute they both deserved.

It had taken him weeks to write this damn speech. For all the memories he wanted to share with the guests about Sid and his fiancée, there were still dozens more that he wanted to speak to, but they were tinged with you. He couldn’t possibly get up in front of Sid’s and his fiancée’s families and friends and wax poetic about the ex-girlfriend who they all knew had left him behind after he’d pushed her away.

So, instead, he started with a simple introduction and the expected niceties about the couple and the evening, followed up with a few funny stories about his own relationship with Sid — their competitiveness and their parallel paths — before wrapping it up with what he hoped would be the bow on top.

“I’ve learned a lot from Sid,” Nate spoke. “More than I’ve probably admitted to him. Not just hockey stuff — everybody knows I grew up obsessively watching him play and copying his every move. I mean, hell, I even went to Shattuck just because he did, for Christ’s sake.”

At his dry delivery, the crowd laughed, especially Sid, whose eyes crinkled at the corners as he lit up the room with his grin. Then, Nate cleared his throat and continued as the room quieted. Try as you might, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him through the entirety of the speech, even when it wrecked you.

“But, uh, no, Sid’s taught me so much,” he said. “About life, and about love. About how to treat the people around you. About never taking anything for granted because you never know when something is going to end.”

With that, you knew Nate was looking at you once again, and your soul ached with regret. You couldn’t bear to look at him again, instead sitting motionless in your chair, barely even breathing. If you could have slipped under the table and out the door without being noticed, you would have, but leaving now would only draw attention to you, and you couldn’t do that to Sid and his wife. So, you sat there in it, praying for Nate’s speech to end soon.

And then, it must have, because people around you were suddenly raising their champagne flutes and clapping as Sid and his bride embraced Nate in the front of the room.

You took that opportunity, with everyone focused on the joy of the moment, to make your escape, sending Kelsey an apologetic glance which she acknowledged with a whispered, “it’s okay.” You didn’t allow yourself to look at the other faces at the table, Kris’s and Catherine’s and Jake’s and Natalie’s and Brian’s and Kayla’s and more. But you knew that they were offering caring looks — you could feel it. You just... you couldn’t handle it right now. Couldn’t handle any of it.

So, you left the grand ballroom of the elegant lodge and found yourself pushing open the nearest doorway, one that led to a balcony overlooking the golf course. The rolling hills and the sweeping fairways, now overtaken by nightfall, allowed you the space and silence you needed to collect your thoughts.

But before you could begin that futile process, you heard a familiar voice behind you — the most familiar one.

“It was you, you know.”

Your eyes fluttered shut. It had been months since you’d heard him speak without the inhibitions of cell phones and hundreds of miles.

Slowly, you turned to face him, your back pressed against the cool, cement railing behind you as you tried to put as much distance between your bodies as possible, for fear that getting too close might just obliterate any semblance of the strength you’d been trying to hold onto all day.

“What was me?” you asked coolly, feigning composure when in reality, the way he looked in the smart grey suit he wore made you dizzy — well, that, combined with your generous consumption of alcohol throughout the day.

Nate noted your hesitance to come close to him, so he left several yards between him and you as he walked forward and leaned his elbows on the railing. He cleared his throat.

“It was you I was talking about when I said Sid taught me never to take anything for granted. People probably thought I was just talking about hockey, maybe. But I wasn’t,” he spoke, and you felt your hands start to tremble. Nate sighed, standing up straight, and looked you square in the eye for the first time since that day when you kissed him goodbye in his living room in Denver. “I took you for granted,” he continued, his voice strained. “I know I did. I just... I never thought you would actually leave. Looking back I realize how stupid that was. You had every right to go.”

You felt a drop of water on your chest and realized that at some point you must have started crying. You dabbed at your skin, trying to dry the tears, but a sob bubbled through your lips as you admitted, “Well, I’ve been fucking miserable ever since.”

Nate blinked, taken aback.

“Have you really?” he asked softly.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, still trying to control your crying.

“Yes, Nate,” you confirmed. “I know I was the one who left in the end. But that didn’t mean I wanted to. Leaving was the exact opposite of what I wanted.”

Nate ran a hand through his hair and gave it a tug, pacing around the balcony.

“It was the exact opposite of what I wanted,” Nate concurred. “But I know I pushed you to it.”

You gave a half-shrug, preparing to reply.

But just then, you heard the strains of a song you knew well flood the ballroom, spilling out the doors to the balcony.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that Sid and his fiancée chose “In Case You Didn’t Know” as their first dance song. But damn it if you hadn’t all four gone to Brett Young’s concert together a few summers back, when you danced with Nate in your suite to this very song, knowing full well how cheesy it was and not caring a bit.

You knew Nate’s mind had gone back to that night, too, as he stopped in his tracks and looked at you wide-eyed. Neither of you said a word for a few lines of the song.

Finally, Nate stretched out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he requested.

You cocked your head at him, though your feet were already moving toward him, betraying your display of faux indecision.

“Dancing is a dangerous game,” you warned.

Nate gave a sad smile.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t—“

You answered him by snaking one arm around his waist, grasping one of his hands in yours, and resting your head against the lapel of his jacket. It was quick and abrupt and it shouldn’t have felt so goddamn right but it did and you felt whole again, if only for this moment.

You felt Nate tentatively wrap his other arm around you, pulling you in close, his lips resting fixed atop your hairline. Both of you hardly moved your feet as the song played on, content and heartbroken all at once to be intertwined together like this again.

“Maybe you did push me,” you suddenly thought aloud. Nate glanced down at you as you pulled your head from his chest to look up at him. “But maybe I didn’t have to leave. Maybe I should’ve just stayed. Maybe we could’ve worked harder on us.”

Nate’s lips parted in surprise, and you thought he may speak up, but he didn’t, so you pressed on.

“Or maybe that’s just the emotions of the wedding talking,” you suggested, leaning further into him — deeper, deeper, as close as you could get. You’d so missed the way he stood so tall above you — this gentle giant of a man constantly making you feel safe, protected, unafraid, by just his form alone, not even to mention his steadfast nature.

“Is it?” Nate inquired somberly, his hand rising up from your hip to brush your cheek before winding its way into the thick hair behind your ear.

You swallowed, lost again in his gleaming blue eyes — blue like his backyard pool that he used to throw you into mercilessly with a belly laugh, blue like the ocean you walked along together on nights both here and in California, blue like the only hue that came to mind when someone asked your favorite color.

“No,” you whispered, and instead of wanting to take it back in the next instant like you feared you might, you wanted to repeat it again and again and again. Scream it from this balcony overlooking his hometown and from the dock behind his house and from center ice at Ball Arena.

No, Nathan. No, it’s not just because of the wedding. No, it’s not just from the alcohol. No, it’s not temporary or fake or fleeting.

“You mean it?” Nate whispered back pleadingly.

You nodded furiously, your chest flush against his as your fingers gripped the dress shirt beneath his jacket.

“I mean it,” you replied. “I miss you. I need you.”

A gleeful, tearful, incredulous chuckle escaped Nate, and he cupped your cheeks in his large hands, bringing his face nearer to yours.

“I miss you so much,” he breathed before his lips found yours. “I never stopped needing you.”

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harmonizingsunsets · 4 years ago

Text

I'd Rather Go Blind & Let My Body Go Numb Than To Lose You Or The Weight Of Your Love

Prompt: Jealousy and all its cousins. Fanart Credit here.

Read on Archive here.

Anthony never thought he'd be the kind of husband who needs to know where his wife is at every moment of every day.

(To be fair, he never thought about being a husband much at all until the season he'd pursued Edwina only to fall maddeningly in love with Kate).

But here he is, sitting on the couch with his feet drumming loudly against the floor, staring intensely at the door.

On the table beside the couch sits a cup of tea, cold and untouched. Anthony had someone from the kitchens prepare it for him, but his nerves made him unable to stomach anything.

Anthony looks a mess. He'd been raking his hands through his hair for the past two hours. He'd also slapped his cheeks once or twice to stay awake.

His jacket lay discarded and wrinkled on the ground near the door. He feels guilty, knowing one of the maids would have to press it. However, he can't gather the desire to move from the couch and retrieve it.

Instead, he's glued to the couch as he considers where Kate is. A hundred different scenarios run through his mind—each scenario worse than the last.

For the past month, Kate has been disappearing at night. He hears her footsteps tiptoeing past his study when he stays up to work. He feels the weight from her side of the bed lessen as she stands and departs from their bedroom when she thinks he's fallen asleep.

At first, Anthony questioned her about it. Kate would always make up an excuse about needing fresh air or going to see Edwina. But he knows her well enough to know when she's lying.

However, Anthony hadn't ever called Kate out on her deceit. He feared the truth, especially how it might crush him to hear it.

But he couldn't take the not knowing anymore. So when he heard the door close after Kate told him five minutes prior that she was retiring to bed, he made his way towards the front of the house. Anthony watched at the window as a carriage rode away. A hole had formed in his stomach, making him feel hollow. He then sat down on the couch so he could catch her when she returned.

Finally, after what felt like ages passed, he hears footsteps approaching the door. He quickly jumps up from the couch and makes his way to the foyer. When Kate steps through the door, her eyes widen.

"Anthony!" she exclaims in surprise, putting a hand to her chest to steady her breath. "You're up late."

"So are you," Anthony says, crossing his arms and blocking her way.

"I was only walking around to get some fresh air."

Anthony raises a brow. "Really, for two hours?"

Her eyes shift anxiously from his stare. "Has it really been that long?"

"Yes," he answers through gritted teeth, anger rising within him.

"Oh well, it was such a lovely night the time got away from me." Kate stands on her toes, kissing him quickly on the cheek. "Sorry for worrying you."

As she tries to retreat, Anthony's hand lurches out to grab her elbow, pulling her back to face him.

"I've had enough, Kate," he sighs tiredly. "Where were you?"

"I just told you, I was—."

"You've been going out for fresh air at odd hours of the day for the past month. You'd think you'd have your fill by now."

Kate fidgets. "Well, it hasn't just been out to get fresh air. I've been attending engagements. I have a life outside you and this household, you know."

"Oh, I know that, but your engagements don't usually take place after dark and don't require you sneaking out of the house to attend."

"Darling, everything is fine," Kate says, pulling her arm out of his reach and giving him a nervous smile. "You've probably been working too hard. Let's go to bed."

As she tries to walk away again, Anthony pulls her back. But this time, he holds onto both of her arms, forcing her to meet his eye.

"Kate, I know you—perhaps more than you know yourself, and I know when you're lying to me," he says, his voice turning softer—more fragile. It's as if he's a vase that could shatter at any moment. "What I don't know is why."

"I promise that what I have been going out and doing is not anything scandalous or dangerous." After letting out a long breath, a laugh bubbles from her throat in amusement. "Honestly, where I've been going to is nothing to fret over. You're acting as if I'm having an affair or something."

Anthony's heart sinks in his chest. No matter how ridiculous the prospect sounds, he can't help but whisper the question that's been plaguing his mind these past few weeks.

"Are you?"

Kate's mouth falls open, her face paling. "Anthony, how could you think that?"

"It's the only explanation I can think of," he says, stepping away from her and beginning to pace. "It explains why you've been coming back so late and being so evasive these past few weeks."

"Anthony—."

His legs go weak at the affection in her voice. Anthony falls to his knees in front of her and takes hold of her hands.

"Just tell me, Kate, I cannot bear it," Anthony says, hating the way his voice wavers. "I cannot bear the thought of you finding pleasure in someone else's arms. I cannot bear you leaving our bed because you'd rather be in another's. I cannot bear the idea of someone else touching you, loving you, or kissing you."

He brushes his lips against Kate's knuckles, causing her breath to hitch. Anthony pulls his lips away, but just so his fingertips can swirl circles on her palm. When his thumb skims over her pulse, he feels her heartbeat quicken.

"Most of all, I cannot bear the thought of you loving someone else." Anthony swallows thickly, feeling a lump forming in his throat. "I'd die right now if you told me all of this was true."

Anthony has always feared time. He used to compulsively reach into his pocket to grasp his father's watch. Each time a hand on the clock ticked forward, he felt as if an ounce of his soul got sucked away.

But since Kate came into his life, that fear has dissipated. Suddenly, he didn't spend each moment of his life calculating how much time he had left. Instead, Anthony began counting things other than seconds.

He counts the number of Kate's smiles. He counts the number of laughs they share next to one another at the table surrounded by his family. Anthony counts the number of kisses that were slow, stirring an aching feeling in his chest. He also counts each hungry and passionate kiss that sets every inch of his skin aflame.

Most of all, Anthony counts how many times he's lost count around her. He gets lost in the timeless and wonderful enigma that is Kate Sharma.

Anthony feels that fear of time creeping up on him again. But now, he's not afraid of time passing and leading to his demise. Instead, he's terrified that Kate's time of loving him has run out. Maybe, she's found a more deserving man to spend the minutes with than him.

When Anthony braves a glance up at Kate, he expects to see pity. But instead, he's surprised to see an entirely different emotion reflected in her eyes.

Love.

Pure, unconditional, steadfast love.

Kate gets down to her knees in front of him. But she doesn't let go of his hands, holding them tighter.

"None of that is true, Anthony," she says firmly. "I love you, have only loved you, and will only love you."

Her words release a breath of relief from him. But, he still can't help doubting this, not knowing how else to explain her odd disappearances.

Kate must sense his train of thoughts. She smiles gently, moving one of her hands up to graze his cheek.

"I love you so much that I've been waking up in the middle of the night so I can give you the perfect present."

Anthony blinks in confusion, feeling the room that had been spinning become still.

"What?"

Kate laughs, and she rests her forehead against his. "Do you know what tomorrow is?"

It hits Anthony like a whip. All the clues that he'd gathered up to form a horrible conclusion were, in fact, clues that lead to a more justifiable and pleasant one.

"Our anniversary," he answers dumbly.

"Yes," she nods, her face beaming with a giddy kind of delight. Anthony feels lucky that he gets to see it. Her expressions are free without restraint only when she's comfortable with someone. He's glad to be one of those treasured few. "We've made it a year, can you believe it? It seems like only yesterday, I was stepping on your toes at a ball, and you acted like a madman when I got stung by a bee."

Anthony frowns, his forehead creasing. "I did not act like a madman."

"You did, but it led us to where we are now," Kate says, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. "Married and happy."

"I'd like to think it would've happened with the bee or not."

"I'm not sure. You were quite thick-headed about how in love with me you were."

"Oh, I'm the thick-headed one?" he scoffs. "After the night you fell in love with me, you gave your approval for me to marry your sister. How thick-headed is that?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd ever feel that way about me," Kate defends, rolling her eyes. "But I know very well now that you do. You show me with every kind word, every touch, every…" her words drift, cheeks reddening, "Well, you know."

Anthony smirks. "No, I do not know. Please elaborate on everything I do to you that gives you pleasure in vivid detail."

"You're insufferable," she grumbles and puts her hands on her hips. "I have a good mind not to tell you the true reason for my disappearing and keep you stewing in jealousy."

"I don't think you'd like the result of my increased jealousy."

"I don't know, your scowl was fierce, and the fire in your eyes was quite the sight," Kate teases, tracing her thumb over his furrowed brows. "Very becoming, actually."

Anthony stands and pulls her up with him, leading her to the couch. "Why have you been disappearing?"

"As I said, our anniversary is tomorrow, and I was getting your gift ready," she explains. "It's almost midnight. Perhaps I can give it to you a little bit early. I had one of the servants waiting outside for my return. They came in through the back entrance and have already snuck it into your study to reveal as a surprise for tomorrow."

"How sinister of you, plotting with our staff against me."

"Nothing sinister about it. I asked, and they agreed to help me. Unlike you, they think I'm perfectly agreeable."

"Obviously, they don't know you well enough to fear the wicked inner workings of your mind as I do."

Kate stands, gracefully sticking out her tongue and making him laugh. Anthony follows her down the hall into his study. She makes him close his eyes. He feels like a fool, stumbling into the room with Kate chuckling behind him. But, he feels guilty for thinking Kate could ever be unfaithful and indulges her wishes.

He waits for a few moments, hearing her moving something across the floor, before he asks, "Can I open my eyes now?"

"Alright, you bloody impatient man, open your eyes."

As Anthony takes his hands away from his eyes, his heart stops in his chest. He gawks at the painting on a canvas stand in front of him.

"Kate," he utters breathlessly.

Kate chews on her bottom lip, hesitantly watching him observe the painting—no, "painting" doesn't seem like the right word for what it is.

It's a masterpiece, an almost perfect depiction of Kate.

The artist captured the exact fraction that Kate's lips tilt up when she smiles in amusement. Anthony often sees that expression pointed towards him when they're engaged in one of their bantering matches. The color of her brown eyes is just as deep in the painting. They're full of so much that Anthony still wants to explore even after a year of marriage.

In the portrait, Kate's shoulders are bare, the sleeves resting low on her arm. The bottom of the picture shows the scarlet bodice of her dress. But the most alluring part is how the brown curls of her hair flow freely down her neck, cascading like a waterfall.

Anthony has a strong distaste for her bonnets and how society demands she wears her hair up in public. Anthony loves running his fingers through her hair, which probably is why she posed for the painting with it down. That minx knew it would stir a feeling within him that no one else but her has been able to elicit.

"I hired Sir Granville to paint it," Kate blurts out, nervous from how long he's remained silent. "I wanted him to paint it in a private setting because it's a bit…."

"Breathtaking," Anthony answers.

"I was going to say suggestive, but breathtaking is a good adjective," Kate grins bashfully. She steps towards him, her eyes glowing through the dim light of the room. "It's a portrait for your eyes only, no one else's."

Anthony ducks his head. "I'm sorry that I thought you were...I just—."

"Foolishly got jealous of a person who doesn't exist? Yes, yes, you did."

He runs his fingers against the frame of the painting. "I have a mind to hang this in the common area, so everyone can see how lucky I am."

Kate's eyebrows snap together. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" he asks playfully.

"It might encourage some men to meet the woman behind the painting," Kate notes with a mischievous glint in her eyes, pretending to consider his proposal. "Who am I to oppose admirers?"

Anthony's smirk fades. "You wouldn't dare."

"Ah, there's that handsome scowl," Kate points at him in triumph.

He swoops forward, his arms going around her waist. "You're maddening."

Kate's smile widens as she looks up at him, looping her hands around his neck. "You love it."

"You're right. I do love you. And, I love this portrait," Anthony adds, bobbing his head towards the painting. "Perhaps I should hang it in here. It can serve as a reminder of what's waiting for me when I finish my work."

She leans up a bit on her toes, her hands traveling lower down his back. "You know, I could come down to your study to remind you."

Anthony begins moving his hands as well. As they skim up her body, brushing her breast, he relishes in the sound of her moan. Anthony leans closer, pressing kisses down her neck until he gets to just the right spot. Kate's fingers curl tighter onto his back as his lips apply pressure there, and her body gravitates further against him.

"You're far too distracting," Anthony murmurs against her skin. "Perhaps, the portrait is too dangerous to be in here. I'd get nothing done."

"Exactly." She leans her face back a margin, so Anthony can see that enchanting tilt of her lips the artist depicted. "Why do you think I commissioned the painting in the first place?"

"To torture me?"

"All is fair in love and war," Kate says, grinning at him. "And hasn't our relationship always been a bit of both?"

In response, Anthony kisses her deeply and thoroughly. The sound of his pocket watch ticking starts to fade away. It gets replaced with the sound of his heart, which beats for Kate more than himself these days.

#kateandanthonyweek #kateandanthonyweek21 #katexanthonyweek #kate x anthony #kanthony #kathony #Katexanthonyweek21 #kate sharma #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #bridgerton series #bridgerton books #bridgerton netflix #Anthony x kate #simone ashley #fanfiction #Bridgerton #fanfic #bridgerton fanfic

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softykooky · 5 years ago

Text

Sanctuary: Four

summary: your favorite color is yellow. taehyung’s favorite color is red. your favorite flowers are peonies. you still haven’t asked taehyung what his are. 6.8k words.

genre: mafia au, angst, ot7 x reader

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, verbal/physical abuse (not from members), blood

author’s note: i love seeing all your messages so much!! even if i don’t post a reply, please know that it does not go unseen or unappreciated. it makes me smile every time :) i hope you guys enjoy!

one two three

It had become a lonely routine for you to wait until everyone in the house was asleep to roam the vast halls and pretend that it was only you. It was relieving. To not be in constant fear of your father lurking around the corner or the pretense you had to keep with Soyeon, as much as you loved your sister. It was nice to pretend for a while. Until the sun inevitably came up and you retreated back into your room.

You padded to the kitchen quickly, keeping an eye out for any spare family members or butlers that hadn’t gone to bed yet. It was moments like these that needed to be romanticized. So every night, you pretended it would be the last night you get to feel cool marble tile under your feet. The last night you could dance in the quiet of the kitchen with no one watching. The last night you could make a grilled cheese while everyone was asleep and eat it all by yourself. The last night you could just be, with no regard to space and time. No thoughts, and no pain. No mom and dad and Soyeon. That was how you found your happiness in this home.

You flipped the spatula gingerly, bursting into a rare smile at the sight of a perfectly golden brown slice of bread. Nothing calms a soul quite like grilled cheeses do. Your mind drifts to Jin’s face when he came to retrieve your plate one day, only to find that the grilled cheese he had made was devoured and the plate was licked clean. Your’s wasn’t even half as good as his was. Maybe it was the type of cheese or the butter. Or maybe the smile that came with it every time he appeared outside your door.

You snapped out of your reverie at the sound of uneven footsteps thudded from outside the kitchen. Your blood ran cold as your father, clutching a bottle of vodka to his chest, stumbled into the room and locked eyes on your figure. He smirked smugly and took another swig.

“Well if it isn’t my pet. What are you doing out of your cage so late?” His words slurred together and you almost wouldn’t have understood if it hadn’t been for the years of practice you’ve gone through in deciphering your father’s intoxicated words.

“I’m...nothing. I’m not doing anything.” It had been a feat for you to even speak up in his presence.

You’re weak, Y/N. Weak and scared.

He chuckled darkly. “Yes, that’s right. You always do nothing. You are nothing.” Something inside of you stretched thinly, so close to snapping but not quite as it fought to hold on. Your body shook with the anger and frustration you were not allowed to feel all those times before. All those times he belittled you and made you feel like you were not worth the air that you breathe.

“You know sometimes I wonder about just shipping you off somewhere and giving Soyeon the company instead.” He drawls, still nursing the bottle as if it were his baby.

“But god knows that nitwit would spend the entire fortune on new shoes.” Your hands still clutched the spatula as they shook with anger, yet you stayed silent.

“You never did tell me what you did to land in the hands of Bangtan, dearest daughter. Enlighten me. Why would they take you, worthless as you are, in?” He leaned against the table on two elbows, face coming to rest on his hands as he glared at you coldly, smiling even wider at the sight of your teary eyes and quivering stature.

“You must’ve made a good whore for them then.”

Snap.

“Do you enjoy looking in the mirror when you see the despicable monster staring back at you?” Your words almost rolled off your tongue uncontrollably. You hadn’t the heart to feel regret for them yet, just staring at your father as his eyes sharpened and he sat up straighter. He wasn’t used to your defiance.

“No wonder Mom fucking despises your presence and leaves whenever she gets the chance. You’re repulsive.” In the back of your head, something was screaming at you to stop talking. To shut up and take the brunt of it like you always do, until he fell asleep and you could retreat to your room. But you had been holding in anger for far too long to feel sorry.

Your father stood up slowly, hands still glued to the glass bottle as his smirk widened in realization of what you had just done. Rarely had you ever talked back to him, much less insult him like you did. Your heart dropped as his chuckles morphed into a full sadistic laugh that bounced off the walls of the kitchen. He looked at you with an intensity you had never seen before and spoke. Deathly calm.

“Oh, Y/N”, he stalked closer to you, still separated by the marble kitchen island but you still instinctively took a step back.

“I’m going to enjoy beating that attitude out of you.”

It was a game of moves and countermoves. Each step he took towards you, you took one back. And in the vast kitchen of your family home, it was easy to put distance between you. Easier when he was completely off his rocker after drinking an unholy amount of vodka.

“I-I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean it. You don’t have to do this.” Your voice shook as you tried to placate your father, who had rage swirling in his eyes at the sight of you. He said nothing. Only laughing in response.

“You’re drunk. Please.” God, Y/N. You and your big mouth. You knew this would happen.

With alcohol impairing his senses, it was easier for you to predict his moves and get out of the way more quickly. As he lunged at you with a shout, you dodged out of the way and ran to the other side of the kitchen, heart thundering in your chest. You hadn’t expected him to chuck the heavy vodka bottle at you, clocking you in the temple with a painful thud as you crumpled to the floor. The glass shattered in half at your feet. The familiar warmth of blood trickled down your forehead. Slow footsteps made their way towards your weak form.

Your father knelt down and gripped the collar of your sweater, pulling your head up from the floor. Your vision was blurred from the pain.

“You. I do so much for you.” He slaps you across the face, one hand still clutching your collar. You almost hadn’t noticed the hit in your dazed state.

“I give you a roof to live under. Food, clothes, money.” He emphasizes each word as he says it, correspondingly slamming your frail body to the hard floor. You couldn’t breathe as he knocked the air out of your lungs, only helplessly staring up at him through teary eyes.

“And this is how you thank me? You ungrateful brat.”

Your face contorted to an expression of fury. Damn the consequences, you wanted to fight back. And if he hits you twice as hard for it, then you would pay that price. You reached up and swiped your nails across the plane of his face, relishing in the thin strips of blood that immediately appeared afterwards. His shock gave you time to get out from underneath him.

Your father touched his cheek and pulled back to find the palm of his hand smeared in red. It seemed as if that sobered him up completely, expression turning calm and dark. You watched him in half-satisfaction and horror, anticipating his next move.

He slowly bent down and picked up the half broken vodka bottle that laid haphazardly at his feet, clutching the neck with a white-knuckled fist, face completely devoid of any human emotion. The shattered bottle was jagged at the end he was currently pointing at you, its edges spliced dangerously and glinting under the harsh light overhead. You had two hands raised in front of you, like a zookeeper attempting to pacify an overzealous animal.

It only took a slight distraction of his roaring laughter and the shock of his approaching speed towards you for you to let your guard down. You reacted just a millisecond to slow, and the sharp end of the broken battle was swiped across your abdomen, so quickly you almost hadn’t felt the searing pain that made you want to faint right there and then. Like flames licking on your skin. Your hands came up to clutch the bleeding wound that had already drenched through your clothes. Your knees buckled as you collapsed once again on the floor, leaning on the wall for support. Just keep pressure. Keep pressure and you won’t bleed out. Your breaths came out in pained gasps.

The bottle met the floor with a shattering sound that was far too delicate after what it had done to you in the hands of your father. Like a predator to its already injured prey, your father approached you to come in for the kill. To finish the hunt. His shaking hands gripped onto your neck, so small and thin in his grasp that you were scared it would just break with the slightest pressure. If this was to be the way you left this world, you would make sure he remembered every second. You spat out the blood in your mouth onto his face, grinning in delight as droplets stung his eyes and splattered over his face. He squeezed your neck tighter.

“You know, I could always make it look like an accident if I killed you here.” His eyes maniacally stared into your’s as the air was suddenly stolen from your lungs, both from his hands and his words. You clawed at the arms that held you to the wall, desperate for some relief.

“Could leak to the press that your car crashed somewhere. No one would even question it.”

Stay awake, Y/N. Fight back. You wanted to. You wanted to fight tooth and nail but all you could focus on was the blood that was seeping out of your stomach and the burn in your lungs as you worked to keep your consciousness. But his grip was so tight and so painful. His bark as stinging as his bite.

Your father’s hands left your throat abruptly and you gulped in air. Who knew oxygen could taste sweet? You keeled over on the floor, coughing out the pain in your throat and trying to ground yourself. There’s a warm hand on the small of your back, though. Impossibly warm and spanning the entire length of your midsection. It caresses you so softly you almost hadn’t noticed it was there. It pulls you closer across the cold floor into a wide chest and you wonder if you had really died and this was an angel to take you away from such a cruel world. An angel to take you to sanctuary.

The angel has such a familiar face when you turn around to meet his eyes though. He looks eerily identical to a certain boy named Taehyung, and his face is creased in worry as your words are stolen from your tongue. The pain reverberating through your body makes it hard to speak, and even harder to stay awake.

“Y/N? Don’t go to sleep, just stay for a second longer.” Taehyung didn’t know what to do. Jin was the one who had medical training, not him. He could only stare flabbergasted as your face went impossibly pale and your whole body shook. He looked down at where you still held your midsection, where your hand was completely drenched in red and blood began to pool around where you lay.

“Hyung! S-She’s bleeding out!” Tears welled in his eyes in sheer panic and desperation, enveloping his own hand over yours to apply more pressure, sorry’s tumbling from his lips when you winced at the pain.

Namjoon looked over to the two of you as the rest of the boys dealt with restraining your father. With more force than necessary. Jungkook made sure bruises would be left behind, his anger communicated in the way he held your father down.

“Taehyung”, you whispered so lightly as your body objected to the pain of talking. His eyes snapped to your’s, a hand coming up to cradle your face gently. Namjoon appeared at your other side, examining your wounds and frantically yelling at someone over the phone that he shakily held to his ear.

“Don’t kill him. Don’t kill my father.” Your voice cracked and you cried both in relief and worry about what was to happen next. Even after this, you didn’t want your father to die. At least not yet. Not before you got the chance to talk to him.

“We won’t,Y/N.” Taehyung smiled down at you in his arms to distract your sadness. “Once you’re all better, you can do that yourself, yeah?” You tried your best to return his smile, managing a slight curve of your lips as a shaky breath left your lungs. Taehyung’s eyes widened as your’s began to droop and your breathing had become shallow.

“Y/N, please stay awake. What’s….What’s your favorite color?” He stammered, slightly nudging you so you wouldn’t drift off. You wanted to laugh at the question, but couldn’t bear to.

“Yellow.”

“Good, good. Mine is red. What’s your favorite flower?” Taehyung would look back on this later and want to slap himself for asking you such mundane questions while you were oozing blood on your kitchen floor. But it was all he could think of to make sure you stayed awake for as long as you could.

You groaned in pain, deepening the furrow in Taehyung’s brow. “Peonies”, you whispered lightly, your voice slowly fading away. You couldn’t find the energy to talk anymore. Or breathe without feeling sharp pain.

For once, you felt safe to leave behind your consciousness and fall into the sleep you tried to fight. Safe and warm. Was it his arms that had made you feel that way? Or knowing that they were all there and that your father couldn’t hurt you anymore at that moment. You closed your eyes, the last thought on your mind being regret. You hadn’t stayed long enough to find out what his favorite flower was as well.

With the pained sounds of your father in the background as the others threw hit after hit, the two boys at your side could only stare at each other with your limp body in between them, praying to whatever power was up there that they could get you back to the manor quickly enough. That their mistake wouldn’t have cost you your life.

“Where’s Y/N-ie? Where is she? There she is!” You erupted into contagious giggles as your father pried the peekaboo hands off your chubby face.

“I almost lost you! Where did you go?” An airplane in the form of a spoon piled high with mashed peas made its way to your mouth, your father making whooshing sounds as he expertly slotted it between your lips. You never liked peas, even as a toddler, face twisting sourly and spitting up the majority of the food you just had been fed.

He smiled at you fondly, caressing your palm-sized head in his hand. You smeared the spit up food over your bib and table, somehow managing to get it in your hair as well. A warm chuckle bubbled from his chest.

“Come on, love. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You woke up on a cold bed with a sharp inhale, wanting to scream but somehow not able to make a sound. There were so many people. So many voices talking at once that it sounded like no one was talking at all. You tried your best to enhance your wavering focus.

“Jungkook, grab the bandages.”

“She’s opening her eyes. Grab me another morphine syringe.”

“Y/N? You need to calm down. Everything is going to be alright.”

You couldn’t make out the other voices but the last one was familiar. It belonged to Jungkook, and you blindly reached a hand out for anyone that would be willing to hold it. He gripped back with a fervent intensity, squeezing your fingers as if to let you know:

I’m right here. You’re safe with me.

You groaned at the searing pain in your stomach, and the thundering ache that throbbed in your head. It was as if you could feel every cut on your skin, every drop of blood that spilled, and every nerve cell that screamed in agitation. God, you hoped that the morphine someone was talking about would kick in soon. You opened your eyes wider at Jungkook’s face that had appeared above you, like an angel shrouded in white light, and exhaled at the sight. He looked so beautiful, you couldn’t imagine how beat up you looked right then. You were always damaged goods. Bruised and imperfect. You let yourself fade away once again.

“I don’t have time for you right now, Y/N. I’m busy.” Your younger self deflated at your father’s rejection, hanging your head in disappointment and trodding to the door of his office. You never objected or cried anymore in front of him. He always said how he hated it, and you wanted to do your best to not upset your father.

“Actually, Y/N?” You turned around as the smile grew on your cheeks, ready to excitedly tell him about your day and the test that you aced.

“Make sure you rehearse your piano piece for tonight, it’s going to be televised. And tell the maid to set out your dress early. We don’t want to be late.”

Your father had spared you a tight-lipped smile and eye contact before he resumed his incessant typing on his computer, stressed-out expression permanently etched on his face. The hope that had sprouted in your chest withered away as soon as it came, and you could only nod back to him, not trusting your voice to respond without cracking. You couldn’t pinpoint when he had gotten so cold, but his old self would come back soon, you were sure of it. He would love you again like he did before and you all could be one big happy family.

You realized later that night, that perhaps the version of your father you were desperately hanging on had ceased to exist. You practiced your solo like he had said, perfecting each glissando and enunciating each arpeggio until your fingers ached. But there had been so many people and so many cameras. It was your father’s critical stare from across the concert hall that had caused your misstep, and the discordant notes as your hands tripped over themselves.

You were punished for it by the wrath of a folded up belt in the palm of his hand. He made you change from your concert gown into a thinner camisole, so that your skin could feel each thwack of leather. So that you could feel how angry he was at you through each strike. You wanted to tell him that you were sorry. That you loved him. You wanted to ask him why he was doing this when you already knew you messed up. But you wouldn’t cry and you wouldn’t object or scream. He always said how much he hated it.

“Hyung, she’s awake.”

Your eyes shot open, shaking in panic as you tried to adjust to the harsh fluorescent overhead and looked around the room. It hurt to breathe and to move. In fact, you couldn’t even do the latter.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” Jin looked into your scared eyes and slipped his hand into yours, squeezing as tightly as he could to ground you from your oncoming panic attack. Your heartbeats slowed down as he continued to hush you and held onto your hand as if it was a lifeline. Or maybe that was you that was holding on so tightly, you couldn’t tell.

You were in a white room. Not the same one that they had thrown you in when you arrived the first time. Not as cold and bleak….and that of course had nothing to do with the boy that was besides you gripping your hand as if he was afraid you would disappear otherwise. There was a strong scent of antiseptic permeating through the air, so heavy you wanted to choke on it. You always hated it. It brought up too many memories you wished to forget. Your eyes darted across the space.

Hoseok had been sitting on the chair in the far corner, running a hand through his messy hair and looking like he hadn’t slept in a couple days. You were surprised he was even here to begin with. Last time you talked, he called you many not so nice things before they shipped you back to your father. Jin sighed sadly and your gaze met his again, clearly distressed and welling with unshed tears.

“Your windpipe was almost crushed. That’s probably why you have some trouble trying to talk, too.” The scene flashed through your eyes again. You were on the floor and he had been choking the life out of you. Before they came to save you. You passed out and now you were here.

“I expect you to make a full recovery, Y/N”, Jin smiled gently. He flipped through a patient clipboard, scribbling down notes you couldn’t see from where you were laying. You pushed through the pain to speak.

“Where’s my father?” You recoiled in shock at the sound of your own voice, reminiscent of someone who had been smoking since they came out of the womb. Hoseok eagerly stood up from his seat and handed you a glass of water, which you thankfully took and drained the entire thing. The boys seemed downtrodden after your question, glancing at each other and looking far too uncomfortable.

“I’ll let Namjoon explain later, love. You should rest now.” You tried to look away to hide your blush at the pet name he had unconsciously used. It was odd. They had been so cold when you came here the first time, and now he was calling you love and looking after you.

Don’t get your hopes up Y/N, it’s just guilt.

Jin left the room after checking on the white bandages wrapped around your stomach, which you had completely forgotten was even injured among the chaos. You could already see the ugly scar that the bottle was going to leave behind, internally groaning at a new mark you could use to remember your father by. You shut your eyes to attempt to get some more sleep, but felt a presence in the room. You hadn’t noticed that Hoseok never left, and was still sitting there on a chair that did not look comfortable. He caught your gaze and blushed.

“I’m uh….I’m staying here. Just to make sure you need anything.” If it weren’t for your messed up throat, you would have giggled at his stammering cuteness. The way he nervously played with his fingers and avoided eye contact with you. It was hard to believe this was the same man that wanted to kick you out of the house the second they brought you back.

It felt safe, though. To have him there, watching over you so that nothing bad would happen. Hoseok didn’t make any noise or attempt to start any conversation, even if you couldn’t say anything back to him. He just sat there with you, albeit too far away for your liking, watching over you like a guardian angel. It didn’t feel awkward. Just warm. But surely all of this was only temporary, because warm and comforting things never lasted for a person like you. Perhaps they had done nothing to your father. Perhaps he would come after you and Bangtan would be forced to let you go.

However, as you sat in the peaceful silence of each other’s presence, admiring Hoseok in the sunlight coming through the window, you would feel alright if this was only temporary.

It had felt like you were their prisoner again. Except the door wasn’t locked, it’s always wide open. Jin would periodically come and go to give you food and water and fresh clothes, and you were just there. Sitting passively and staring into space most of the time. The other boys hadn’t made any active attempt to talk to you, and you wondered if it was because of the overwhelming guilt or if it was just because they didn’t care. Even though there was a familiar poetry book on your meal tray yesterday, you couldn’t bring yourself to open and read. You wouldn’t allow yourself to indulge in such things, because the boys were not your friends. They would kick you out once you’ve healed. You wouldn’t let yourself get attached again.

Jin tried to hide his wince as he unraveled the bandages around your middle, eyeing the nasty wound and mutilated skin with guilt swimming in his eyes. Times like these, you just stayed quiet and looked away at the window, refusing to see the marks that your father has left on you. You didn’t notice the tears that made their way down your cheeks until you felt Jin’s soft hands wiping them away.

It was easy. Too easy to fall into his chest and sob a part of the pain out. As for the rest of it, you reckon it’ll stay with you for the rest of your life. It felt good, though. To have someone hold you with no questions asked and no hollow statements of sympathy. Jin had wrapped you in his arms so tightly and tucked your head under his chin, like a shield from the rest of the world that has tried to hurt you so many times.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You couldn’t count how many times he had repeated it to you. Nor had you noticed the quivering in each word as he whispered them in your ear. But you could feel their sincerity, through each breath and pause and the way his hands pressed you against the wide expanse of his chest. You couldn’t find it in yourself to tell him that it was okay, or that everything was forgiven, because that wouldn’t be true. Nothing was okay and the sky seemed to be falling. You didn’t know what your father would do now or what had happened after you passed out at the house. You didn’t know if Soyeon knew where you were or if she even noticed. You didn’t know where you would go after the dust settles down. But right then, at that moment, Jin had held you. And even if everything you were facing felt uncertain...

He hadn’t.

“Aren’t you gonna go in, Y/N?” Jungkook and Yoongi stood next to you, switching glances between your figure and the door of your assigned bedroom/ex-holding cell. You could only stare at the wood, tracing your eyes over and and the padlock that remained drilled on to the oak pane. Jungkook exhaled in realization, turning you gently by the shoulders to face him.

“You’re not our hostage anymore. I promise.”

You hesitantly looked up at him, nodding and turning back to the entrance. You weren’t their prisoner anymore. There was no need to worry. You took a deep breath in and turned the doorknob, swinging the door open and revealing the room exactly as you had remembered it. The bed was neatly made. There was a stack of clothes neatly piled on top of the mattress. And on the nightstand, a tall glass vase filled with pink and white peonies. Your favorite.

Yoongi noticed your gaze stuck on the flowers, and gingerly walked to your side. “Taehyung uhh...said they were your favorite. We thought you would like them.”

You remained quiet, only staring at the bouquet and running your fingers through a soft petal, so delicate you were scared it would fall into pieces at the slightest touch.

“I mean they’re stupid anyway. It was a stupid idea, I should have-”

“I love them. Thank you so much.” You cut off Yoongi’s rambling, looking back at both of the boys with a warm smile on your cheeks, skin gaining color again after the incident. You turned around to admire the flowers some more.

Jungkook fixed his gaze on Yoongi, noting the pink tint on his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He would have teased him for it had it not been for the same blush that was painted on his own. The boys looked at each other as you held a peony up to your nose, oblivious of the turmoil you had caused behind you with just a smile and a few words. If words could be communicated through a look shared between two smitten people, Jungkook and Yoongi’s conversation would have sounded something like:

Oh fuck. We’re in trouble.

“We’re needed in the meeting room, Y/N. Are you ready?” Jungkook coughed awkwardly as the comfortable silence was broken between the three of you. You looked at him confusedly.

“Namjoon wants to update you. On everything.” Your eyes widened in realization. You set the single bloomed peony down on the nightstand, glancing back to the two boys who could sense your tension from across the room.

“What do you mean you left him there?” You practically yelled, your throat objecting to every strain and voice coming out raspy even after the days of recovery, which felt like years with the way all seven of the boys avoided answering any of your questions as if it was the plague. A plague called: Seokjin would have skinned them alive if they caused you more distress when you hadn’t mostly healed yet.

Namjoon sighed, disappointment at himself reflected in his gaze towards you from across the wide briefing table. Since you had been cleared to get out of bed, Bangtan had thought it proper to give you a seat at their meeting room, with your very own spinning chair.

“We couldn’t do anything after we beat him up. We put a tail on him, though, to track his every move. As much as we wanted to bring him back, your father is a powerful man, Y/N. We are too, but he’s a high government official.” You slumped in defeat, not as confident as you were before. You thought he was in custody somewhere, not still free to do whatever he wanted. He was still in a position to get you back, which would mean imminent death. Yoongi seemed to read your expression perfectly.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We won’t let him have you again.” Again. That had been an awkward sore spot with you and the boys. You all had unspokenly decided to completely ignore it. How easily they had betrayed you and handed you over the first time, writing you off as an ignorant brat. Even after all your assurances that you were not angry at them, they were still convinced they needed to do more to redeem themselves. You smiled at Yoongi warmly, and he tried to quell the thudding heartbeat that annoyingly pounds at the mere sight of you.

“So what do we do now?” The boys made eye contact with each other at your question, seemingly as clueless as you were.

“I strategize that we just wait. Our headquarters are stationed here, this is where we are safest and strongest. Let’s wait for his move and prepare ourselves as best we can.” Hoseok speaks up from two seats away from you.

“But it’s your call Y/N. Whatever you think is best.” You nodded, staying quiet and looking at the mahogany table in front of you, analyzing your own reflection in the shiny and polished wood.

“I think”, you started, catching the attention of the crew as they awaited your executive decision. “We all need a very good night’s sleep. Don’t you?” You stood up from your chair slowly, body still sore and rickety. You reached out for Jimin to help you waddle to your room, which he gladly obliged.

“Come on, boys, I can practically see you dozing off in your chairs.”

Maybe it was the way you laughed when you said it, looking back at them with expectant eyes and a kind smile on your lips. The way they had someone to care for them in such a mundane way as wanting to make sure they got enough sleep. The sound of your voice fluttering around the cold house that felt cozier with just the power of your presence. The feeling of having someone to protect. As they stared at you, damaged and hurt as you were, something collectively bloomed in their chests. With just a glance towards one another, the seven of them knew. They would keep you safe. For as long as you would let them.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else, Y/N?” Jimin fussed over you smotheringly, tucking and retucking the thick blanket around your frail figure as if one loose thread in the fabric would put you at risk. You rolled your eyes affectionately.

“Jimin. You’re going to give yourself a hernia if you keep this up. I’m fine. See?”

Yes, he had seen. You were still bandaged across your waist, the wounds from the glass bottle taking exceptionally long to heal, even after the stitches. You hadn’t needed stitches on your temple, just an obnoxious bandage. The neck cast had come off, but Jimin could still see the rings of purple and black bruises that lined your skin, stoking the fire of his anger each time he caught sight of it and remembered the scene of your father’s hands squeezing the life out of you.

“Don’t look at me like that, Jimin. It’s just a little injury. I’ll be back to shape in no time.” You grinned cheekily, shooing his hands away from trying to fluff up your pillow that in no way needed any more fluffing.

He was confused at that. How you pretended to be fine even after everything. They could all see the pain in your eyes and hear it in your words each time you talked about your family.

“Okay, fine. Just yell if you need anything.” You nodded.

“Wait don’t yell, your vocal chords are still healing, just knock on the wall very obnoxiously.” You nodded again.

“Wait don’t knock you could hurt yourself, just-”

“Jimin.”

“Yeah, okay, goodnight Y/N.” He let himself out the door, glancing back at you one last time with something fond in his eyes. He left the door ajar by a centimeter, so that a little light could flood in through the crack. You had expected the familiar clicking sound of a lock to keep you from escaping. But there was none. No lock and no keys assigned to each boy to open your bedroom. You drifted off to sleep with the help of Jin’s prescribed pain medicine. You thought of Soyeon. Your mother. Your father. And the face of seven boys who you had grown unreasonably close to in the short amount of time.

Namjoon had been treading sleepily to his bedroom when he had heard you. At first, he shrugged it off, thinking it was just the house settling or a distant breeze. But as he approached closer to your door, he could hear it more clearly. Your distressed whimpers and slurred mumbles. Namjoon quietly opened the door and peeked inside.

You were tossing and turning on the bed, hands fisting the sheets so tightly your knuckles turned white. Your expression was pained, eyebrows scrunching in discomfort as you dreamed. Namjoon’s heart twisted in his chest. He hadn’t even thought of the fact that you would get bad nightmares, and how they must be even heightened after this. You had seemed strangely fine after they brought you back to their home, never showing more weakness than you had to. You hadn’t even mentioned the injuries. Now you were probably reliving everything while you were supposed to be peacefully sleeping.

Namjoon leaned down over you, careful not to invade your space. “Y/N, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” You hadn’t budged, still drifting off in your unpleasant dream.

“Y/N?” You had stilled, expression still creased in a frown but no longer rustling. He hadn’t noticed that your hand was gripping tightly onto his until he moved to walk away. For a moment, he thought you had woken up, but the even rise and fall of your chest and light snores that escaped your lips indicated you were still deep in sleep. He sighed, opting to sit down on the rug besides your bed, still keeping your hand encased in his own.

It was comforting. To feel the warmth of your skin. To run his thumb over your pulsepoint and feel the rhythmic beating. To hear each breath as it made its way through your chest. Namjoon felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier by the second. He hadn’t even noticed himself falling asleep, only focused on the weight of your hand in his.

You woke up feeling still as tired as you were when you went to bed. Your skin was sticky with sweat, uncomfortably rubbing against you and making you far too hot. You flicked the thick blanket Jimin had insisted on trapping you under and relished in the cold air that rushed in to lick at your skin. A snoring sound reverberated impossibly loud in the once quiet room. You froze with fear, snapping your head so quickly to the source of the sound you were surprised you didn’t get whiplash.

It was Namjoon. Curled up in the fetal position on your rug with a decorative couch pillow under his head, snoring away without a care in the world. The sight made you coo, heart melting at the sight of a grown man sleeping so innocently. He was always so focused on his work. So caught up in the stress of running his gang. You wondered how often he actually got good sleep. It was as if he could feel your stare, and opened his eyes to meet your’s.

“What are you doing down there, Namjoon?”

Wow, he could get used to the sight of you after he woke up every morning, bedhead and all. Even if his view was from an uncomfortable floor. Namjoon coughed in embarrassment, promptly standing up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“You, uh...You had a nightmare last night. I came to check on you and then you wouldn’t let go of my hand.” You blushed meekly at his words, a smile growing on your lips as you looked at him fondly.

“So, you stayed with me?” You gazed up at Namjoon in wonder, heart threatening to burst at his unexpected act of care towards you. He nodded shyly, scratching the back of his neck as he always does when he’s nervous and awkward. You could feel your eyes tearing up again, wanting to laugh at yourself for being so pathetic and crying over the smallest things. But he had been so ready to stay by your side, even when you were asleep and out of it. You couldn’t remember a time when someone cared enough to do that for you.

You stood up out of bed and stood in front of Namjoon. His mouth slightly dropped in shock as he felt your arms weakly wrap around his shoulders, his arms still hanging by his side.

“Thank you.”

He felt your breath fan over his ear, so soft and delicate. You sniffled, trying to hide your tears from him. Namjoon held you closer to him, pressing you against his chest with the least amount of pressure so as to not aggravate your injury any more. You had felt so small and snug in his arms, he wanted you to stay there forever. He felt a single tear drop drip onto his clothed shoulder, seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and he held you even closer.

The door to your room opened with a smack, revealing a huffing Hoseok, and the two of you jumped away from each other, respectively blushes dusting your cheeks and putting on an inconspicuous facade. Hoseok graciously decided to ignore what he had seen. He would tease Namjoon for it later, there was something more pressing at hand.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon waited for Hoseok to catch his breath, but noted the ways his eyes flickered worriedly to you and the sounds of his men clambering downstairs. Your heart thudded in anticipation at the solemn look Hoseok had on his face, suddenly wanting to empty the contents of your stomach and faint all in one go. You had a feeling you knew what his next words were going to be about.

“It’s your father Y/N. He’s on his way here.”

Taglist: @pinkyhim, @deolly , @drunkzseok, @hope122598, @uwunamjoon, @nomimits7, @bubblebunnylia, @aquaalanah, @juliie-ocha, @daydreambrliever, @btsbabby, @blank-et-noir, @myheartstaysinkorea, @rosiethefairy, @tiredjedi, @lovemyself-persona, @jeoncookie-bts, @annoyingpessimist, @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @btstxtgenre, @taesugaar, @hxsxxk-180294, @bubbletae7, @uglyratlmao, @hopetookmysoul, @supertweetycherry, @loveyoongles

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fairlyspnfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

The Ties That Bind Us - Part 5

Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail? Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old. The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do. But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.

A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests. I’m not going to post the actual requests because…well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.

Words: 2328

Warnings: Trauma, medical terminology, stress, hospital waiting room

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

My toes had been resting in the sand, fully submerged in the ocean saltwater, for hours. The chair I lounged in had sunk to the point that my seat was resting on the sand and was just beginning to cover the side rails. I could feel the warming rays of the sun on my skin, and I basked in the comfort of my parents sitting on either side of me.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and lazily dragging my fingertips over the surface of the water. I planted my feet and began pushing myself up to a standing position. Having been sitting so close to the ground, it took no shortage of effort to get myself upright.

“So, what’s it gonna be, baby girl?” My father questioned me from his seat in the sand. Running my hands through my salt-air blown hair, I took a deep breath.

“I don’t know.” Looking out over the water, I crossed my arms over myself, hugging my elbows. I looked over at my mother, her ever-smiling face looking up at me.

“They’ll be here before you know it,” she said soothingly. I scrunched my eyebrows together quizzically, confused once more. “The boys. The Winchester’s.” Her answer was matter of fact. I hadn’t considered them, having been too elated to immerse myself in the bubble of happiness and relief that was my family being given back to me.

“Dean,” I whispered, drawing my eyes back out to the water as the pit of my stomach dropped out.

I heard my father chuckling behind me. “That boy’s a good nut. A little marred on the outside, mind you, and completely oblivious at that. But he’s a good nut.” My arms loosened and I felt my shoulders��relax as I allowed myself a laugh.

“He really is.” My words were tinged with a hint of sadness. I could picture his face. The panic that was etched into it, his wide green eyes staring at me, pleadingly, assuring me that I was going to be fine.

“Hummingbird,” my mother’s voice pulled me from my thoughts of him. “I’ve known you for your entire life. From the first fluttering of your feet in my belly, and every second since. I’ve seen you grow into this beautiful woman, inside and out. But honey,” she paused briefly, taking a breath. “I’ve never seen you as happy as you are when you’re with that boy.”

Her kind eyes seemed to be able to see right through me and directly into my heart, if not my soul.

“But mom,” I whined. “I just got you back.” She reached out and held her hand open, gesturing for mine. I placed my hand gingerly into hers, feeling the prickling of tears coming to my eyes.

“I know, Y/N. I know. But you’ll never lose us.” She looked over at my father, her smile growing. “We’re always with you. And we’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

I knelt into the wet sand in front of her, the waves lapping at my legs as my jeans quickly soaked through. “What if I want to stay?”

“Then you stay. But it’s up to you, baby girl,” my father answered nonchalantly.

“I think I’ll just go for a walk. Clear my head a little, okay?”

They both nodded back to me in response, as I began walking down the beach, my bare feet pressing into the sand with every step.

“Trap a reaper? Dean, are you insane?” Sam was yelling, his voice full of incredulity.

Dean gave no answer, just stared at his brother expectantly.

“No, Dean, this is crazy. We aren’t doing this!”

Dean stepped quickly over to his brother, gathering the front of his shirt in his fists as he pushed Sam against the wall behind him violently.

“Insane?” Dean’s voice was shaky and manic. “This is what we do, Sam!”

“No,” Sam responded calmly. “It’s what we’ve always done, and it never ends well.” He kept an even keel, ignoring the rage and sadness that were circling within him. He understood his brother’s actions but didn’t want to encourage them if he could help it.

“It ends with our family together, Sam. That’s all that matters here!” Dean’s fingers relaxed as he released his grip on Sam’s shirt and took a step back.

Sam’s face dropped. “Y/N wouldn’t want this, and you know it.”

“Well, she’s not here, is she?” Dean’s yelling attracted the attention of the nurse that had been sitting at the computer at her station. She looked up at them with judgmental eyes. “Sir!” Her voice rang out with authority.

“Sorry,” Dean answered, calming his voice down slightly but not breaking his eye contact with Sam.

They stared at each other, neither willing to back down. “I’ll do it alone,” Dean stated softly. He grabbed the bag that he had set down on the chairs and stormed down the hall. Ducking into the first bathroom that he could find, he closed the door behind him, quickly throwing the lock.

It didn’t take him long to get everything set up. Trap symbol painted, crucifix in the bottom of the mortar, ore, hemlock, what else? What am I missing? Dean went through the recipe in his head making sure he had everything just right. Finally, he dragged the blade of his pocketknife across his left palm, letting his blood begin to drip into the concoction as he threw a lit match down into it.

“O theris tes, caleo se cai deo.” He chanted the incantation and held his breath, praying that he’d done everything correctly.

“Really, Winchester? You’re summoning us into a washroom now?” The reaper who Dean recognized as Jessica was indignant. “What is it this time?” She threw her hands up in the air, disgusted, and attempted to walk away from him. Her foot faltered, hitting the edge of the symbol he had painted on the floor.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Her irritation was tangible.

“Not quite,” Dean answered with just a hint of casual jest. “I need your help.”

“You usually do.” Jessica was full of indignation. “What is it this time? Running from some big bad? Need to take a stroll through the land of the dead? What could it possibly be now?” Her anger was blazing, and though he would never admit it, Dean found himself intimidated by the reaper.

“Y/N,” Dean said by way of explanation. But the reaper gave no response, simply shrugged her shoulder and lifted her palms to the ceiling.

“What about her?”

“I need you to bring her back. Work a miracle, pull her back from hell, I don’t care.” He swallowed, his throat closing with pent up emotion. “Whatever it takes to bring her back. Just do it.”

“There’s always a price, Dean.” Her amusement was clear, both in her speech and body language, as she was now standing with one foot to the side, propping her right hip higher than the other as she stroked her chin.

“Name it. I’ll pay it.” His caramel-apple eyes began to tear as he struggled to hold them back.

“Oh Dean, Dean, Dean. Always so willing to die for those you love.” Jessica smiled, a devilishly delighted grin.

“We have a deal or not?” His gravelly voice enunciated his seriousness.

“I haven’t even told you what I would require,” she droned. “Have some patience,” she spat at him in staccato as her grim smile quickly fell into a severe and intense glare.

“I told you to name it, I don’t care. Just tell me what you want!”

She hesitated, lightly pacing across the two or three feet that she had been granted. Suddenly, she stopped in the center of the mark, her head snapping up to Dean and that same devilish grin slowly drawing itself across her face.

“What?” Dean’s demand was loud, hoping to show her the urgency of the matter.

“Nothing,” she said, succinctly and sweetly, her arms crossed in front of her.

“Nothing? You’re saying you want nothing in return? What’s the catch?”

“Call it a get out of jail free card, Dean.”

He looked at her incredulously. “I don’t get it, why would you do it for nothing?”

“Because you, Dean Winchester, will be in my debt. And I will hold that debt until it is paid in full. You can count on it. But for now,” She held her hands up, opening up her fingers as if demonstrating their emptiness. “For now, I want nothing. But you will come when I call,” she looked down at the trap before making eye contact with him again. “And I will call.”

Dean paused, considering the offer and turning it over in his mind. “Done.”

There was a knock at the door, startling Dean momentarily. “In a minute,” he yelled, waving the would-be-intruder off.

“We have a deal, then?”

Dean nodded in response, leaning down and scraping away the edge of the painted symbol. By the time he stood back up, Jessica was gone. He could only hope she would make good on it.

I walked down the beach, enjoying the feel of the warm sand between my toes and the water lapping at my feet. But internally, my mind raced. Getting my parents back was life changing. Or I guess, afterlife changing. I hadn’t seen then in decades, and yet being with them felt so natural. As if no time had passed at all. Each time my mother called me Hummingbird, the nickname I’d had since I was just kicking her bladder around in-utero, my heart soared. Each grunt or chuckle from my father sent delight through me. And yet, I felt as though I was in an impossible situation.

The Winchester’s were there. Undoubtedly working through the job, or on their way to another. Could I leave them? Could I really be truly happy knowing that I may never see them again? May never see Dean again? The thought brought a sob from my mouth as I moved my hand up, running my fingers over my mouth.

A seagull flew past me, cawing as it went, drawing my attention back behind me. I had walked farther than I had realized. I could just make out my parents as they sat in their chairs, their silhouettes small and distant. Taking a moment, I faced the ocean again, feeling the slow drag as my feet sank into the sand more with each caress of the water. I could remember my mother taking me to beaches as a child. We would both sink, giggling at the loud smacking sounds that were created when we pulled our feet out.

Smiling to myself, I looked back over towards my family and began walking again. But out of seemingly nowhere, my path was impeded by a person. A woman with long red hair and defined cheekbones stared at me, her face unreadable, wearing a long black trench coat.

“Let’s go,” she said, matter-of-factly as she pulled her black gloves off her hands, one finger at a time.

“What?” I shook my head, confused.

Her deep sigh did nothing to endear her to you, let alone to explain who she was. “You’re not the easiest soul to find up here, ya know. It took no shortage of effort on my part. Effort I should not be extending to begin with.” Both of her gloves were off now, as she looked me in the eyes, unblinking but the corners of her mouth seemed to draw up, as though she wanted to smile but thought better of it.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Jessica.”

I waited for an explanation that clearly was not coming voluntarily. “Jessica who?”

“Y/N, we really don’t have time for this.” She sighed through her sentence, obviously irritated.

“Maybe you don’t, but I have all the time in the world apparently.” My aversion to authority had kicked in and being pushed around by a stuck-up stranger did not bode well for it ending anytime soon.

“Jessica. Reaper. Here to whisk you back to the land of the living as instructed.” She rolled her eyes, clearly resentful.

“Instructed by whom?” She looked at me blankly, as if to tell me that my question as asinine.

“He didn’t.” My eyes were wide and felt as though they might burst out of my sockets.

“Like I said,” she began. “We don’t have much time. It’s now or never, kid.”

My eyes drifted over to my parents, my heart feeling as though it would break, as I felt Jessica’s cold hard fingertip press against my forehead and my vision went black.

To be continued….

Part Six

Taglist (Tag requests are open):

@vicmc624@waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy @carissime72 @deans-baby-momma @formulafun @woodworthti666 @yetanotherreader @crashlyrose @hobby27 @gabby913 @jxackles @polina-93@supernaturaladdictsblog @fandomoverdose666 @deans-baby-momma @deanwanddamons @tazzi-baby @acertainhero @lilulo-12

(Desperate attempt to get my faves to notice me) @thinkinghardhardlythinking @smol-and-grumpy @wonder-cole-reads @watermelonlipstick @that-one-gay-girl @waywardbaby

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kaisa-ryo · 4 years ago

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Inumaki Toge NSFW Alphabet

Warning: English isn't my native language!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

A = Aftercare (What he likes after sex)

Fingering your hair is his favorite pastime. It doesn't matter if they are short or long, light or dark, he just loves the combination of your scent and your favorite shampoo. Yes. It is no less pleasant for him to draw in their aroma, so Inumaki always bumps into the top of your head and falls asleep, feeling this native smell. This is probably why he often dreams with your participation.

B = Body part (His favorite body part)

Hair. It is obvious.

How he is fascinated by the sight when they develop so beautifully in the wind, how the moonlight pours into them, and how incredibly alluring any touch seems to be. It's like teasing a lover by flattering his imagination. But damn it, when you give him full control over them, he feels great delight. Toge can spend hours doing your hair or putting it in a ponytail, admiring your bare neck, guessing the thoughts behind your back.

— And if we have a girl, will you also braid her hair?

You asked with a slight laugh.

— Salmon! Salmon!

C = Cum (Everything about sperm)

Most often in a condom.

Sometimes, of course, on one of the zones of your body, but with your permission. Because of the prices and the need to save money, you can certainly not copulate every day, but you want to get as much pleasure from the process as possible. Speaking specifically about you, then you do not mind that he came inside. The main thing is to properly configure yourself and him.

D = Dirty secret

He is in no other way connected with his kink, which you will learn about a little later.

When you're in the shower or away from the dorm, he takes your headphones and licks the earwax off. Yes, you heard right.

When you were walking with a friend, she couldn't stop complaining for ten minutes that her headphones need to be constantly cleaned, otherwise any music is hard to hear. You, of course, were surprised not to answer her. You have a slightly different thought - why have you never noticed your headphones are dirty? Anyway, you thought you were just lucky with them.

E = Experience

Small, but no less significant.

Watching porn to completely satisfy you seemed insufficient to him. Therefore, in order to have at least some idea of the peculiarities of the female body, he watched how it moves, studied gestures, facial expressions and even intonation, trying to make out what exactly you can get aroused from. The peculiarity was that in real life, body movements and their consequences are never as natural and simple as on a phone screen. For example, when you suck on him, his throat may dry out, from which you ask him to bring a glass of water. Or when you fuck for too long, and neither of you ever experienced an orgasm (this also happens), you just lie down on the bed, not even thinking that it is either of you. Simply because you are just tired.

In general, you both learn something new in sexual relations and experience new sensations almost every intercourse.

F = Favorite position

Most of all he prefers those in which no special effort is needed. For example missionary or "spoons". They do not require any incredible gymnastic skills and still allow you to conserve energy.

A special title is occupied by the pose from behind, where you put a pillow under the pelvis. A huge plus is that such a pose serves for "deeper penetration", so you both experience the same sensations of bliss: you are all Inumaki inside yourself, and he is your incomparable warmth and flesh.

G = Goofy (Serious at this moment?)

Undoubtedly.

We can say that he simply does not know how to fool around. He is serious and subtle to such an extent that even joking flirting with him seems a kind of perversion.

H = Hair (Is the hair okay?)

Frankly, you are not even sure that he has something growing there. But the whole secret is that he tries to pay as much attention to the groin area as possible. This is the only place that, perhaps, only you can see. It is worth paying special attention to it, isn't it?

I = Intimacy (Romance)

This is mainly a manifestation of material or spiritual signs. Moreover, the most common ones, for example, an offer to share food, hold the door, straighten the curls that have come out of his hair .., but he does it with such a disinterested and sincere expression that it immediately becomes clear that this is true love based on affection.

Perhaps to some extent this is just a game of contrasts, the goal of which is to win your heart completely and completely, but unfeigned attention forces it to be sincere. In fact, there is no need for him to play these dirty games, because he has long ago reached you in all his perfection, and, in fact, remains the dearest person for you.

J = Jack off (masturbation)

It happens.

It does not matter because of what exactly: your naked, half-naked body, clothes ..., absolutely everything drenches him from head to toe.

The heart is pounding like mad, there is a pleasant tickling in the stomach, breathing quickens, the eyelids begin to drop from such a pressure of mixed, but clearly pleasant feelings. The hand unauthorizedly reaches down to the pants and continues to rub the tip until all the precum has flowed out. Trembling muffled moans hammer into his ears, mixing with yours, which sound in his sexual fantasies.

Once you caught him doing this, but fortunately, you didn't even understand that he was masturbating then.

K = Kink

Have you ever seen people lick their partners' ears? I hasten to congratulate (or upset), Inumaki is one of them.

During sex, he always starts with this - licking and nibbling your ears. Starting from the scaphoid fossa and ending with the earlobe. Later, he will smoothly move to a climax, ending with the fact that he learns with the language more internal parts, like a storm a passage to the eardrums.

The more you are aroused by the rhythmic movement of his tongue, the more the waves of sexual energy spread throughout your body. Eventually you will begin to succumb to such unusual caresses.

L = Location (Favorite places to have sex)

Any where you are alone. The most commonplace are the kitchen table and bed. But his favorite is the bath.

Here you are sitting, huddled close to each other, then Inumaki for no reason, for no reason begins to caress you. Under the water, everything seems so sharp and shameless that you will not immediately understand whether you are really flowing or whether it is ordinary water. Plus, the bath has an advantage. It lies in the fact that you do not need to go to the shower after sex to put yourself in order, because you are already in the shower!

Toge knows how exhausted you are, so he will definitely go over your whole body with a washcloth, and this, believe me, will be extremely pleasant. Then you just fall asleep on his chest while he peers into your face, tickling him from time to time with the touches of soft fingers.

M = Motivation

Your persistence

He gets maddened by the way you touch and feel his torso as he stands with his back to you. He feels how your hand moves to his chest, and each time he moans with delight, as if he was touching your tender body, not you. And you slowly and carefully examine its relief, running your fingers into your pants and touching a tense member. Oh, how you smile in response to his sighs and groans. What he thinks about you at this moment, even scary to imagine. Do you want to know his thoughts? You can do this to the fullest while he stands in front of the mirror and watches how you feel his body, looking at his face, which he is diligently trying to hide. But nothing comes of it, because you come closer to his ear and whisper: "Close your eyes ..." He obediently closes, and you passionately lick his neck, and he again moans with bliss. Damn right, he needs it right now.

N = No (Which will not do)

Something that will make you uncomfortable.

Inumaki is a person who truly wants love. It is on this that all his thoughts, plans, desires are concentrated. But not on using your passion as a tool to achieve sexual pleasure. If he ever hurts you or loses you altogether, then most likely he will not find an object for his love and will remain empty and timid until the end of his days. And this will be the saddest thing in his life. That is why he wants to give you what you need in order to receive your love in the maximum amount,

O = Oral (Likes to receive or to give)

He tries with all his might to show that the guy is by nature a gentleman and idealist, but deep down he wants to get as much from you as possible. To do this, he tries to get all the pleasure from just one of your vulgar posture or appearance, the whole charm of which lies in the fact that he seems to be a normal action that does not cause orgasm even in the most dissolute, but still can cause something in between huge pleasure and deep shock. Such a difficult game, however, quite often happens if the guy realizes that you are completely open to his reach. And someday he will tell you about it, and you will probably laugh at it.

P = Pace

Able to suddenly accelerate, forcing you to take his fingers into your mouth. No matter how much you fuck, it will always come as a surprise to you, since a fast pace can appear at any moment, even at the very beginning.

Q = Quickie

Changeable. He chooses when he should accelerate. Even if there is nothing left to your general orgasm, it may slow down, on purpose, so that you begin to sigh heavily and beg to "be faster."

R = Risk (Ready to experiment)

He does not like to talk about it, so, most likely, he is not ready. Inumaki is not afraid that everything will go through the same place as to harm you.

If he ever gets such an opportunity, he will show the cross with his hands. Even if somewhere in the depths of his soul he wants to do this, he will mentally slap himself in the face and say “no” to himself several times.

Yes, you are a very active person and you will always look for something new in order to try it soon, for which he fell in love with you. From the part. But at the same time, the guy knows very well that if something goes wrong, it will already be his fault that he did not have time to change his mind and refuse in time.

S = Stamina

On average, a couple of rounds are enough for him, and not to get tired, but to force your body to produce fluid. But this art is so subtle that it takes deep and long practice to master it. But Toge was able to "develop his own style" based solely on you. He knew by heart your movements, desires, weaknesses ... let's say, perfectly mastered your personal body language. And it does not take him long to bring you to the peak of pleasure.

T = Toys

Not an amateur.

When you offered him one just for a change, he frowned and shook his head. He does not consider it dirty, rather strange and completely unnecessary. He has a bad attitude not only to toys. When he first saw one of the varieties of BDSM, he reacted in much the same way.

U = Unfair (Does he like to tease)

Watching you wriggle with the desire for him to fuck your convulsing hole must be an incredibly exciting sight for him. Especially when you, wagging your hips, cum on his fingers, so that he immediately licks your lubricant dry. And you, mixed with an incredible sense of bliss, fuck his cock until you are exhausted, because this is the only way to somehow thank him for the affection.

Preludes are what Inumaki is really good at.

V = Volume (How loud is it)

Quite loud. For him, this is such a small complex that he tries to hide, biting your shoulders and collarbones, in order to drown out his own groan at least a little. But you think it's cute and you have already told him about it more than once, but he still continues to be embarrassed by his own voice. Perhaps he himself is embarrassed to hear the loud sounds that he is capable of making, because most of the time he is quiet as a mouse. But despite this, he is pleased that you, unlike him, do not take it as something informal or out of the ordinary.

W = Wild card (Random headcanon)

That night you fucked for quite a long period of time, because you, apparently, under the influence of your teenage hormones, decided to spend the whole day on how to drive him crazy with all the excitements that you know how to drink with the pathogen dissolved in water. You no longer remember what exactly your vicious hormones wanted: extra attention or the knowledge of what his maximum could be. In any case, you didn’t regret doing it.

Due to this, you guys had to sleep three hours more than you need to. As a result, both were late for training.

Who knew that Satoru Gojo was peeking into students' rooms !? Although it was obvious, nobody really thought about it.

— Hmm. What are all the same infinite adolescents are. Apparently I underestimated them. - picking up the used condom from the floor and grinning happily Gojo said.

Since then, the teacher from time to time, with an already annoying smile from her endless amount, glanced at you. But knowing that one person knew about it, it was already impossible to say for sure that someone else would not know about it either. In the end, secrets were useless to hide. Sooner or later, everyone would look askance at you. After all, an interesting couple, a strong shaman and a little vulgarity.

X = X-ray (What's under the clothes)

13 cm, during erection ± 0.5

Y = Yearning (How high is the sex drive)

I will not deny that Toge finds you sexually attractive. Yes, he would like to be alone with you as much as possible. He knows that in a way he considers you to be his weakness. He understands that you, like a fallen star, can ignite in him not only passion, but also a thirst for euphoria. But Toge has no doubt that you are in the hands of someone who can protect you. Even from myself.

Sex is a good solution to remind you that both of you can be more vulnerable to each other, that you both have strengths and weaknesses, that one of you can show more than if he was like an open book. And, undoubtedly, each of you wants to experience this feeling at least once a week. But you and Inumaki do not forget that everything has its own measure. I have long been aware that soon frequent sex can affect your contraception, your health and sincerity (you can forget why you are doing all this). And in general, there is no need to do this too often in your relationship. Realism, what else to add?

± 5/10

Z = Zzz (How quickly falls asleep)

It depends on how much the process exhausted him. As already mentioned, his endurance is much higher than, for example, yours. Therefore, for some indefinite rest of the time, he will look at your relaxed face, tuck a lock of hair behind your ear or stroke your bare shoulder. If your body decides to turn its back on it, it is unlikely that it will immediately stop touching you. Only after his hands pass from your shoulders to your hips and back, he will want to kiss you on the neck or on the cheek. And then he can easily make your body return to its previous position in order to spend several hours in an intoxicating bliss.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

#jjk #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk inumaki #alphabet

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