#and then it was so good that i read every chapter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eroscomet · 2 days ago

Text

Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours

Chapter three- Closer

┗━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━┛

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Warning: Explicit, Warning 18+ content, swearing, fingering (Tara receiving), kissing.

Word Count: 2.3k+

A/N: Hey, lovelies, needed to update this real bad. BEAR WITH ME YALL, this is my first like smut that I have basically officially put out there. I hope you guys enjoy it and honestly, I was very nervous to post this update but I have left you guys starved of this story for too long. Making this chapter was a rollercoaster of emotions for me, I did not know that writing smut could be so bashful or even sheepish, but it really was. Good news as well, Make it Right will have an update soon! Very nervous to put this chapter out there but it was going to happen sooner or later. By the way, for future reference, this will be a g!p reader. Just letting you guys know that. Thank you so much for all the support and this one's for you guys!

Proof read.

Minors DNI

╰┈➤ Series Masterlist

┗━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━┛

┏━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━┓

Your head felt like it had been reeling since the moment that you and Tara were back in contact. You felt wrong for allowing her to get the better of you when she had been somewhat intoxicated. The guilt was practically eating at you because not only had you hooked up with her, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Throughout each of your classes, every time you tried to force yourself to focus on the teacher's words or even the work in front of you, all you could think about was that night.

Your mind was plagued by all that the shorter girl had become under your touch. It felt selfish to have done such a thing and still think of her this way afterwards. No matter how long you tried to shove every image of the girl that night, heat pooled in your lower stomach. It was undeniable. Yet, every time that you had been around the girl from then on, you felt the care for her far stronger than any lust. It was easy to create a fantasy of her but when it came down to it, face to face, all you could do was want to protect her and care for her any way that you could.

“You stare a lot.” Tara said with a hum, she hadn’t even been looking up. She was instead focused on the textbook in front of her, still she felt your eyes on her.

“Ah, sorry..” You replied bashfully as you let out a small breath. Part of you wondered if she had even remembered that night. Maybe she had been angry that when she woke up, you hadn’t been there.

The thing was that when you had woken up the next morning after that night, the more you stared at her peacefully sleeping face, the more guilty you felt for having let yourself lose control. You’d spent an hour that morning, wondering what you should do before having finally settled on leaving some water bottles on her nightstand as well as some pain-killers to take when she’d wake up to a headache she would be bound to have. You didn’t know whether she’d remember, so you left a simple note saying that you had taken care of her the previous night.

“I wasn’t saying that I was bothered by it,” Tara said as her eyes flicked up to where you were sitting in front of her.

“Oh..” Was all you could think to muster up in reply. Should you ask if she remembered? Should you wait until she brings it up? You didn’t want to be a dick and make her think that she was a simple hookup and that was all.

An awkward silence fell upon the both of you as the two of you continued to study. That was until the silence was broken by Tara.

“So…” She began as she scribbled some notes into her notebook, her eyes pried away from yours at all cost, “Do you remember-”

“Yes.” You replied, not even knowing if she was asking what you were thinking she was asking. Her eyebrow had momentarily shot up at the quick reply.

“You didn’t even let me finish.” She said with a light laugh, “Unless, something’s on your mind?”

“Uh,” Your throat suddenly felt dry as you tried to think of the right words to use, “What happened a couple of nights ago..?”

“Hm.”

Her reply seemed too dry. Maybe she didn’t want to talk about it? Maybe she was in fact angry at you for having left?

“What?”

“I just..thought you didn’t remember, that’s all.”

“Of course, I do.” Your reply felt pathetic to your own ears. It left you feeling as if you were desperate. Despite your inner thoughts, a small smile played on her lips.

A silence fell upon the both of you before you had spoken up again, “I’m sorry for leaving that morning. I didn’t know if you’d want to.. I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know if you’d want to remember what had happened.”

“I’ve always thought of you too sweet, that’s why I felt a bit suspicious of it.”

“I’m not the type to do that, I promise. I just thought it was more on your end… I was confused, you know? Confused if you think it's a one-time mistake.”

“Doesn’t have to be. I mean, I don’t think it was a mistake. I’m sort of…glad it was you.”

You felt your heart almost beat out of your chest at the revelation that you hadn’t thought about. It felt like what you had heard was a part of another restless dream where Tara felt the same way about you. For a moment, you were stuck in your thoughts as you contemplated whether or not this was a dream or a joke. That was until you felt your pencil being taken from your hand as you turned your head to look over at the girl, you were sure that now you had somehow died and been sent to heaven.

The look in her eyes, she was close enough for you to count every freckle that adorned her cheeks perfectly. The way her lips had slightly twitched as if she were about to speak but instead decided not to. The two of you spent a moment staring at each other, your face drawing impossibly closer to hers. The feeling of her breath mingling against your own, her eyes darted down at your lips allowed your mind to begin wandering places. Taking action to one of those many thoughts as you shut your eyes and leaned forward into a kiss.

After feeling Tara returning your kiss, you hummed into the kiss, leaning into the touch of her hand on your cheek. You felt weak, weaker than you ever had. It felt almost helpless the way that your mind couldn’t draw any other thought but the dark haired girl kissing you. Kissing you as if she wanted you just as badly as you wanted her. Your hands felt limp, futile to every attempt of moving them to not seem awkward. It felt as if Tara had been reading your mind because her hands had grabbed yours and guided them under her shirt.

“Wait-” You managed to mutter breathlessly as you pulled away from the kiss, “Are you sure about this?”

“Still as caring as ever. Gosh, yes, L/N, I’m sure.” Tara replied with a breathless laugh, slightly shaking her head. “Must you always be so good?”

A soft smile on your lips as you felt her own on yours once again before you could’ve replied to her words. You returned the now hungrier kiss.

“There’s nothing wrong with being good.” You had mumbled against her lips as you continued to kiss her.

She hadn’t replied this time, her hands simply guiding yours further up her shirt and to the curve of her clothed breast. Your fingers had toyed with the hem of her bra, a small whine came from her in response. Her hands moving away from yours and up your own shirt, feeling out the planes of your skin. Her fingers felt persistent, whereas your own took their time and were more gentle. Unaware of the girl’s growing impatience, your hand moved to the back of her bra, carefully unclasping it.

It had now hung loosely to her skin under her shirt, you took this as your chance to gently allow your thumbs to focus on the buds of her nipples. Immediately receiving a reaction from the girl, a soft whimper against your lips that felt all too sweet. Your mind had temporarily fled to the thought that someone else had too been in this position. You felt your gut slightly twist before pushing away the thought and allowing yourself to at least enjoy this while you can. While she had graced you with the opportunity to do so.

Your nimble fingers were quick against her buds, her breathing becoming ragged. Her mouth felt hot and wet, a reflection of your own as the kiss came to an end. Her eyes were fluttered shut as she allowed soft sighs to escape her, enjoying your touch. You’d seen and felt her back arch slightly with twitches into your touch. Her own hands had paused under your shirt, seemingly had lost its focus and purpose she’d once had with the touch. Quickly, one of your hands had left from under her shirt, moving to your lips where your tongue darted out to wet them before returning it to her nipple.

Tara’s head slightly tipped back at the newfound sensation you’d given her, your other hand moving down her abdomen to the hem of her sweatpants. You knew better than to tease the girl but you couldn’t help yourself, your fingers gently pressing against her clit over the fabric. The soft gasp that left Tara’s lips and the expression on her face made you want to examine every expression and sound she’d offer you with every touch you gave her.

“Don’t tease. Please.” She had breathed out ever-so-softly. Who were you to go against what she wanted? You wanted nothing but to please the girl of your dreams.

You were quick as you had carelessly pushed aside her notebook and text book that was on her desk. Swiftly lifting the shorter girl onto the desk, she lifted her hips slightly, giving you access to pull her sweats down. Your eyes were trained on her as you disregarded her sweatpants onto her bed. One of your hands pushed apart her legs as the other pulled aside her panties, not caring to remove them. You could hear every sweet sigh and soft whimper that escaped her mouth at your every touch, and it drove you completely insane.

A finger swiped through her folds, feeling the wet mess that she had become. You felt a surge of pride and a want– no, a need to give Tara everything she wanted. You allowed two fingers to delve past her folds and into pussy, a soft groan leaving your own lips at the tightness. A guttural moan leaving her, you watched as her head tipped back against the wall. Your fingers were quick, pumping to her every moan and obvious need with the way her hips had begun to buck against your hand. Your thumb pressing circles into her clit as your fingers continue to pump, your other hand raising her shirt to focus on her breasts as well.

With another lick of your fingers, you toyed and played with the bud of her nipple. You wanted to give her all the pleasure you knew she was deserving of. Your lips finding hers as you pulled her into a kiss, muffling her kisses that she now let out into your mouth. With the quickened pace of your fingers from each hand, you took note that it was getting harder for the girl to keep up with the kiss. You pulled away and immediately began working on peppering kisses against her neck, trying and finding her sweet spot. Your teeth grazed her neck as your mouth began to suck on the sensitive part of her neck.

You felt her back arching into you and her body buzzing and writhing with pleasure from your touch. Taking note of how Tara was getting closer by the way her moans and breath fell relentlessly from her lips.

“Close-” She managed to say, pairing with a broken moan which only pushed you to quicken your pace.

“Shit, shit, shit- I’m cumming!” Tara’s voice cried out as she shut her eyes tightly, her body uncontrollably shaking under your touch.

━━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━━

A few minutes later and the two of you were sitting together at her dining room table eating pizza which you had ordered Tara.

“A true gentlewoman.” She said with a hum before

taking a bite of her pizza.

“Aftercare is important.” You replied with a small shrug as you took a bite of your own pizza.

“So, you're saying that you’ll stay longer?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Maybe you're right. I'll stay then.”

After the two of you had finished eating, you made your way back over to her room. Now, your arms wrapped around the shorter girl who buried her face into your chest. All felt calm, a stark contrast of what had happened about an hour or two earlier. You felt yourself wanting to stay in this moment, in the safety of the bubble you two created in her room. Tara was slowly falling asleep, you took it upon yourself to further soothe the girl by rubbing her back gently and pressing gentle kisses to her forehead.

“Thank you for this.” She mumbled softly against your chest, slightly muffled.

“You don’t have to thank me, Tar.”

“Tar. I always liked when you called me that.”

“I'll forever call you that if you want me to.”

“I’d like that.”

You itched to ask the girl what all of this meant. What your relationship was like now. Is it friends? More than that, friends with benefits? Maybe…it could be something more than that as well, lovers? You pushed down the thoughts and the itch to ask, wanting to not ruin this perfect bubble the two of you have created.

“Tell me something. Anything.” Tara murmured softly

“You're soft.” It was the first thing that came to mind and the first thing that fled your mouth. A small light laugh had escaped Tara’s lips.

“What’s funny?” You asked curiously.

“It’s just that… I'm not sure I've ever been called or described that way.”

“Glad to be the first, and it’s true.”

“You're sweet.” Her words made a soft smile creep onto your face.

“Look who’s talking.”

“Oh, you're just a flatterer.”

“Can we not flatter each other?”

“I suppose so.”

“Sleep, you're tired.” Your eyes scanned the girl’s face, she was obviously a bit drained. A hand came up to gently caress her face as the other one continued to rub her back. Which had lulled her further into a sleepy state, she only nodded at your words. For the entire time that you stayed at her apartment, you held her and whispered sweet nothings that you knew she couldn’t hear in her sleep, but whispered them anyway.

┗━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━┛

A/N: I'M NERVOUS BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED. Again, thank you for all the support and also look around for Make it Right chapter three coming out as well. Bear with me and this, this is my first smut published. However, I had to get it out of the way for upcoming chapters. Thank you all so much for everything, bye lovelies!

#jenna ortega #eroscomet #jenna ortega x fem #tara carpenter x female reader #jenna marie ortega #tara carpenter #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #scream 2022 #scream franchise #scream movies #scream #Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours

105 notes · View notes

honeypiehotchner · 2 days ago

Text

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part one

I'm backkk 👀 Reminder that y'all do NOT like each other (for now 🤭)

I did a lot of math to make sure I had my timeline in order but I won't bore y'all with all the numbers. Some basics, tho: we're somewhere in s5/6, Foyet doesn't exist here but Haley and Hotch are divorced and Jack lives with Haley, Reader is in her mid 30s and Hotch is in his mid 40s. That's all for now, happy reading! xxx

Chapter warnings: these two are at each other's throats! and a new case begins ofc

Your day started out perfectly.

You sorted more of your belongings into boxes for the movers. Everything will be shipped ahead so it arrives shortly after you do at your apartment in Virginia. You’re running ahead of schedule, so you even have time to stop for a good breakfast before heading into the office.

The day felt…too good to be true. And you quickly find out why.

“The BAU?”

Your superior, Agent Reynolds, sits across from you and raises an eyebrow, assuming incorrectly that you haven’t heard of the branch. “The Behavioral Analy—”

“Yes, I know what the BAU is,” you cut him off, something he’s used to, waving your hand sharply. “Why the BAU?”

“You were requested,” he replies simply with a slight shrug.

“By who?”

“Agent Hotchner, as I’m told.”

That is the last name you ever expected him to say.

“Hotch?” you echo incredulously. “You’re kidding.”

Reynolds sighs. “I’m really not.” You know deep down Reynolds will miss you, but he’ll also thank god every day that he doesn’t have to put up with your attitude anymore.

“Huh.” You could laugh. You almost do. “Interesting.”

Your now ex-boss gives you a look, and a sigh. “What now?”

“Oh, nothing,” you shake your head. “Agent Hotchner and I have met before, that’s all.”

+++

Ten and a half years prior to the present day, you worked on a case with Aaron Hotchner.

Key word: case. One singular case.

You were joined by agents Gideon, Morgan, and, of course, Hotchner. You were the only woman with them at the time, and that already threatened to drive you up a wall. To make matters worse, you and Hotch could not get along to save anyone’s lives.

The two of you butted heads for two weeks straight, but even that is sugar coating it. He raised his voice at you and you raised your voice right back. Of course, only in private. In the field, you were as professional as can be. But in the tiny conference room that you had to set up for them coming in unannounced? All bets were off.

You’ve never been a particularly angry person, but something about Hotch brought all your anger to the surface.

He was the most arrogant man you had ever come across. He explained things to you that you already knew, and even when you told him you were aware of the topic, he’d continue explaining like he hadn’t heard you, just out of spite.

He underestimated you in ways that had your blood boiling. He wouldn’t send you to interview anyone, despite that being your area of expertise. He had you doing busy work, like a goddamn intern.

You were your office’s own little BAU. You had read Gideon’s papers, been to profiling lectures. You became a profiler because you knew your city needed one, and by your fifth year in the office, you were one. You knew what you were doing, and Hotch treated you like a newbie.

He always walked around in a damn suit and tie. Does he not own a t-shirt? Does he know what that is? Would it kill him to breathe once in a while?

Why does he have to look like he constantly has a stick up his ass?

Of course, you aren’t totally innocent. You found his buttons and pushed them since day one. He hated being talked over or shouted at, so those became your favorite things. Especially after he began doing them to you.

Don’t disobey direct orders, he said. You did. And you got the results needed, so he had no choice but to move on.

Don’t come into the interrogation room unless asked for, he said. You did anyway. The unsub needed to feel important, a high priority, and he wasn’t. So, you walked in and told Hotch that the Attorney General of the United States was on the phone. It worked. While Hotch “spoke with the Attorney General,” you got a confession. Hotch had to thank you through gritted teeth.

When the case was solved and the BAU left town, you popped a bottle of fucking champagne. Good riddance you screamed and drank straight from the foaming top.

+++

You mutter under your breath the entire drive to the BAU. Your boxes arrived this morning, but you haven’t had a chance to unpack them, so your apartment is currently a shitshow.

And now you’re driving to deal with another shitshow.

You haven’t received any emails or texts from Hotch, which is odd, but you’re sure as hell not questioning it. The less you have to deal with him, the better. He probably shares the same sentiment, which is why he hasn’t contacted you.

From far away, Quantico looks more like a prison than it does a headquarters. You hope it doesn’t feel the same way it looks.

The BAU office is just a short elevator ride up from the parking garage, and you dread every second of it. When the doors open on the BAU floor, you want to scream.

But you’re a professional, not a toddler, so you walk your ass through the glass doors and into the bullpen, your head held high like an adult.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Hi Morgan,” you mirror his grin, accepting his hug. “Miss me?”

He’s in the same black t-shirt and black jeans he always wears, his haircut just the same but shorter. And he finally got rid of the “shaving my face every morning” routine. Stubble looks much better on him.

“For ten years,” Morgan reminds you. “What brings you here?”

You shrug cheekily, feigning innocence. “I heard there was an opening.”

His grin, somehow, grows wider and brighter. “Come here!” He tackles you in another hug, this time lifting you up and spinning you. “God is on my side to-day. Where’s Reid?”

“Putting a disastrous amount of sugar in his coffee,” a blonde woman says as she passes, then stops. “Oh, hi. I’m JJ, you must be Agent L/N. I heard you were coming in today.”

You escape from Morgan’s grip to shake JJ’s hand. “That’s me. JJ, you said?”

She nods, shifting her feet to a more comfortable position in her heels. “I’m the BAU liaison, so you’ll see a lot of me. And very little of me. It��s complicated.”

“I hear that,” you chuckle, just glad to see another woman has joined the team.

And to your surprise, another joins the circle, this one with black hair parted down the middle. “Emily Prentiss,” she says, sticking out her hand. “Are we finally getting another woman around here?”

You nod, glad to hear she agrees with your unspoken comment. “Looks like it.”

“Did someone call my name?”

You turn and see the infamous Dr. Reid stirring a mug of sugar with a splash of coffee. He’s wearing a cardigan, per usual, and what looks like the same pair converse from when you first met him five years ago at a lecture the BAU put on. He was brand new back then. His eyebrows furrow when he sees you, and then they go wide.

“Y/N? Hi!” he says excitedly, nearly spilling his drink. “It’s been so long! Wha— What are you doing here?”

You give JJ and Emily a look that only you three truly understand. “Why do none of the men assume I’ll be joining the team?”

Emily laughs. “Believe me, I wish I knew.”

“Wait, seriously?” Reid blurts. “Are you really joining us?”

“Sure am,” you grin. “And once I get out of this meeting with Hotch, you’re telling me when the hell you joined a boyband.”

“Oh, ouch,” Morgan taps Reid’s arm lightly with a grin.

“Uh, you too, Derek,” you punch him, letting him know he isn’t off the hook either. “What’s up with the shirt? Do you not own another color?”

“Damn, momma,” Morgan groans. “You haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you,” you pat his cheek.

“I like you already,” Emily grins.

“Agent L/N,” an unmistakable voice comes from the top of the stairs, effectively ruining the moment.

He definitely hasn’t changed, you think to yourself as you slowly turn around.

“Agent Hotchner,” you mimic his tone. “Nice to see you again.”

He grips the railing a little too tightly. And he’s still wearing a damn suit, with a damn tie knotted so tight you wonder if it’s choking him. If it’s not, you want it to be. Maybe he’ll shut up then.

“I believe our meeting was scheduled for 9am,” he says, earning a sideways glance from the other man standing on the balcony.

“It still is,” you reply, looking beside his head at the clock on the wall and shit. “I’m late. That’s my fault, sir. I apologize.”

“Yes, it is,” he says. “We need to make this short. Hurry up.”

He turns and disappears into his office like some imitation of Dracula. You give Derek a helpless look.

“Welcome back,” Reid says, grimacing.

“Thanks, bud,” you reply, knowing he means well. “If any of you hear any screaming, pay no mind, that’s just how we greet each oth—”

“Agent L/N!” Hotch shouts from his doorway.

“Coming!” you shout back, just as loud and just as annoyed. “For fuck’s sake,” you mutter to yourself.

You hop up the stairs two at a time, reaching Hotch’s office in seconds.

The man that was beside Hotch offers you a smile. “I’m Agent Rossi,” he extends his hand.

“Agent L/N,” you return the friendly expression, shaking his hand, just glad that he at least seems happy to meet you. “I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”

Rossi nods slowly, mouthing, “Good luck.”

You like him already. You smirk.

Hotch is standing behind his desk when you walk into his office, anger written all over his face. His arms are crossed over his chest, fingers picking at his nails ever so slightly.

“Close the door.”

“Promise not to shoot me?” you joke, but it doesn’t land. You shut the door and take a seat in front of his desk while he remains standing. “Well?”

Finally, he speaks. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You let out a laugh. “Oh, great.” You sit up because this is just stupid. “Are you kidding me? This is the last division I wanted to work in, but I was transferred here. At your behest, might I add—”

“I can assure you, Agent L/N, I did not request that you join my team,” he says as he sits down, rolling toward his desk and placing his arms over the files littered before him.

“Well then Agent Reynolds is a fucking liar, I guess,” you deadpan. “He’s the one who told me I was assigned to the BAU — because of you.”

“Well it wasn’t me.”

“Glad we got that settled,” you shoot back, wanting instead to add, like I fucking care if it was you or not. “Listen, whether either of us likes it or not, I was assigned here, so I’m here. If you want me to leave, take it up with Agent Reynolds or whoever the fuck really requested me. But I can’t do shit about this, and this is now my job, so I’m not leaving just because you want to have some pissing contest.”

He looks like he’s chewing on fire. “Your job security is not my problem—”

“For God’s sake, call your fucking boss, it won’t make you any less of a man to ask a goddamn question about why you have a new agent in your office.”

Hotch glares at you, but does as you say, picking up his desk phone and pressing a few buttons.

You sit back in your chair, waiting in silence. You turn your head to look through the blinds because Hotch didn’t close them all the way, and you nearly start to laugh. Huddled around one desk, Morgan, JJ, Emily, Reid, and another blonde woman dressed in bright colors and shapes are listening intently to Reid who is no doubt lip reading and translating this entire conversation.

Finally, the line connects and Hotch starts speaking. Almost as quick as the phone call begins, it ends.

“Well?” you ask.

“There was some miscommunication,” Hotch admits, though he does not look happy about it. “Welcome to the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

You smile sarcastically. “Thank you, Agent Hotchner.”

“You’re dismissed,” he says. “We’ll meet in the conference room in five minutes to discuss the rest of today. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, sir,” you mutter as you escape his office, just glad he didn’t torture you with a handshake.

Emerging from Hotch’s office, you stand against the railing and ask the team where the conference room is.

Morgan points to your left. “Why?”

“He told me we’re meeting there to discuss—”

“That’s on hold now,” JJ says, whirling around the BAU with an armful of files. “We’ve got a case. Missing girl, thirteen years old.” She passes out files in the bullpen, handing one to you as she ascends the stairs.

“Shit,” you mutter. “How long has she been missing?”

“Starting without me?” Hotch asks as he walks out of his office. He takes a file from JJ and says a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Yep, we are,” you say right back, scanning your file. You think you hear Rossi let out a chuckle at your response. “Gone since this morning. Are they certain it wasn’t overnight?”

“The mother dropped Lila off at school this morning at seven, and by nine, she was absent,” JJ explains as everyone fills into the conference room. “They paged her at school over the intercom, but she’s not in any of the classrooms.”

“How are we hearing about this so quickly?” Morgan asks. “I mean, I’m glad, but it’s been…just over an hour. We don’t normally have this much time.”

“Because,” JJ pauses, pointing the remote toward the TV. “This is Lila’s father.”

On the screen, the FBI’s Most Wanted are staring back at you. JJ clicks again, and one face comes forward.

“Who?” Emily says.

“Richard Monroe,” Reid says aloud. “He’s been on the run for almost two years. He’s said to have killed a dozen people, all females, but they suspect there might be more. Every time we’ve come close to catching him, he gets away.”

“And now his daughter is missing,” Rossi adds. “I’m guessing this guy is our unsub.”

“I don’t know,” you stare into Richard’s eyes on the screen. “When was he last seen?”

“You can investigate that when we get there,” Hotch says curtly. “They’re waiting for us and we’ll lose time by flying. Wheels up in ten.”

Everyone files out of the room and Hotch stays back, waiting for you to be the last one in the room.

“Agent L/N,” Hotch gets your attention. “Since you’ve never tackled a case like this before, try your best to follow orders, and watch what the team does. Don’t make any rash decisions and don’t go off on your own.”

None of his comments anger you as much as the first one. “You don’t know that I’ve never encountered something like this.”

“Don’t argue with me when we have a missing girl,” Hotch snaps. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” you reply, pushing past him.

“I hope you have a go bag,” he calls after you. “There will be no time for shopping when we’re on the ground.”

“Then I’ll just wear your clothes!” you yell back, knowing it’ll get a rise out of him. You hear Morgan snicker down in the bullpen.

“Agent L/N,” Hotch says, and when you turn around, you see he’s giving you his famous stare.

You sigh. “My bag is in my car. It’ll take me two minutes to grab it. That’s clearly less than ten. Unless you have anything else to say that might delay me further?”

“Go,” he says, waving you away as he heads into his office to grab his bag. “Now.”

+++

While you’re on the jet, you do some research on Richard Monroe. He’s a grade A piece of shit if you’ve ever seen one.

But he’s not the type to go after his daughter.

“Garcia, can you check and see if Richard tried at all to contact Lila on her cell?” you ask.

“I would, sweets, but I can’t find Lila’s phone. Their house phone, however, has no calls.”

“He wouldn’t call the house phone, not with Lila’s mom watching over her like a hawk,” you murmur.

Hotch lifts his head. “How do you know that?”

“Know what?”

“That her mother would be overbearing.”

“Her father’s a serial killer on the run, Hotch,” you reply. “Any mother would keep tabs on her daughter’s every breath if she had a father like that. It’s logic.”

“She makes a fair point,” Rossi says.

“It’s unfounded,” Hotch ignores him, still dead set on irritating you. “Until you talk to her mother, don’t jump to any conclusions about her behavior.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Until I do?”

“Yes, you will be talking to her mother when we get on the ground. Morgan will go with you.” He nods to Derek. “Reid, you and JJ get set up at the precinct. Prentiss, Rossi, and I will go to the middle school. We’ll meet back at the precinct to discuss our next steps.”

You share a look with Morgan before sinking back in your chair, glaring at the file instead of Hotch.

It's going to be a long fucking day.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x you #enemies to lovers #criminal minds fanfiction #angst angst angst #The Gambit

97 notes · View notes

focusonkayjay · 1 day ago

Text

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (5); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, smut

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 8k+

Chapter Warnings: vandalization, wooyoung, your mom.

A/N: i’m so sorry for the super late update omg. since it’s the holiday season, my friends dragged me on an impromptu trip to the mountains, and I didn’t have proper wifi for like three days, so I couldn’t really proof read and post updates. anyways, i was thinking it might be a good idea to set fixed days of the week for updates, so I don’t leave you all hanging for too long. how about we make it every tuesday for this one? and if I’m feeling extra motivated, you might even get impromptu updates in between !! let me know what you think <3 also what do you guys think about this part? i really tried to mirror eleanor's character here hehehehe

part 5

Jungkook gulps, the uneasiness in his chest growing heavier with each passing second. His thoughts spiral... how could he not know something so significant about you? The weight of Wooyoung’s words lingers like a dark cloud, and Jungkook feels a pang of frustration at his own cluelessness.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung sits there, exuding smug satisfaction, his tone dripping with judgment and condescension. Before Jungkook can even think of a response, a familiar voice cuts through the tension.

"Hey, Jungkook! There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere."

It’s Namjoon, one of your and Taehyung’s cousins. Jungkook immediately recognizes him from the tea ceremony and their brief interactions earlier on the cruise.

Without hesitation, Namjoon strides over, his easy grin never faltering as he helps Jungkook up from the bar, casually slinging an arm over his shoulder in a protective, almost brotherly gesture.

Jungkook blinks, startled but compliant, his gaze lingering on Wooyoung for a moment longer before he lets Namjoon steer him away.

As they weave through the pulsating crowd on the dance floor, Namjoon leans in slightly, his voice pitched low enough to be heard over the booming bass of the DJ’s set. "Looks like you needed some saving." he murmurs, a soft knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Jungkook casts one last glance at the chaotic swirl of neon lights and bodies moving in sync with the music. The atmosphere feels oppressive, the conversation with Wooyoung still swirling in his head, but Namjoon’s steady presence offers a much-needed sense of calm.

"You okay?" Namjoon asks once they’re out of earshot, his concern evident as he peers at Jungkook.

Jungkook exhales deeply, his hand running through his hair. "Who... was that?" he asks, his voice strained, laced with lingering frustration and confusion. Namjoon chuckles softly, his grip on Jungkook’s shoulder steady as they put more distance between themselves and the chaotic energy of the party.

"That?" he repeats, shaking his head slightly. "That was Wooyoung. A bit of a wildcard, but mostly harmless... as long as you don’t let him get into your head."

Jungkook frowns, his mind still caught in the web of the earlier conversation. "He said some... things." he murmurs, his voice laced with tension. "About Y/n, about their past... and how her mom wanted them to—" He stops abruptly, the words sticking in his throat, as if saying them aloud might solidify them into something undeniable.

Namjoon sighs, his expression softening as he glances at Jungkook. "Yeah, Wooyoung does have a knack for stirring the pot." he admits. "And... well, he’s not entirely wrong about some of it."

Jungkook’s head snaps towards Namjoon, his brows furrowed in confusion and frustration. "But you’ve got to understand something, Jungkook." Namjoon begins, his tone measured.

"Y/n’s life before you? It’s complicated. Her mom? Even more so. She’s... traditional. She wanted Y/n to settle down here, to live the life she envisioned for her. Going to New York? Pursuing fashion? That wasn’t part of the plan. Her mom thought..." He trails off as they reach a quieter corner, settling near a small table where the thumping bass of the music fades to a faint hum.

"She thought Y/n would drift away... from her culture, her roots, everything she was raised with." Namjoon continues, his voice lower now. "So, she brought Wooyoung into the picture."

Jungkook leans forward slightly, absorbing every word, trying to piece together this part of your life he hadn’t known.

"They didn’t date." Namjoon clarifies quickly, sensing Jungkook’s unease. "Hell, Y/n couldn’t even stand the guy. He’s off-putting, doesn’t know how to respect boundaries, and, honestly, just a jerk. I don’t even know why Seokjin invited him tonight. Even Taehyung can’t stand him." He pauses, shaking his head in exasperation before continuing.

"Anyway, Y/n’s mom had this whole idea that Wooyoung was the perfect match... stable, from a good family, all that nonsense. She thought marrying him would keep Y/n grounded, keep her here. But Y/n? She wasn’t having any of it." he pauses, looking at Jungkook.

"She rebelled, stood her ground, and thank god for Taehyung and her dad. They backed her up, and eventually, her mom had no choice but to let her go and do what she wanted."

Namjoon leans back, his gaze steady as he studies Jungkook. "Look, Y/n’s family dynamic is... complex. But she’s here now, and she chose her path. And she chose you." His words linger, grounding Jungkook in the present as the weight of the past begins to feel just a little less overwhelming.

Jungkook stays silent, sitting stiffly as the reality of everything sinks in. His hooded eyes stay fixed on the table, his mind churning with thoughts he’s struggling to process. Namjoon notices, his concern deepening at the tension in Jungkook’s shoulders and his distant expression.

"Hey..." Namjoon says gently a few second later, leaning forward. "Why don’t we head back to your room? I’ll call a few friends, and we can just hang out, play some cards, or something chill." He’s clearly trying to distract Jungkook, offering him an escape from the storm brewing inside.

Jungkook finally looks up, his lips curving into a tight, appreciative smile. The gesture speaks volumes, and Namjoon doesn’t push further, understanding the gratitude in his silence. A distraction sounds good, better than sitting here, drowning in the spiral of his own thoughts.

"Yeah, sure." Jungkook agrees, his voice subdued. He rises from his seat, and Namjoon drapes a casual arm over his shoulders again as they make their way out.

"You’re a good guy, you know that?" Namjoon says, his tone light but sincere. "I’ve heard so much about you from Y/n and Tae. Don’t let stuff like this get to you. It’s not worth it."

Jungkook nods, his expression unreadable. He’s heard words like that more than once lately, but they leave him unsure... comforted, yes, but also questioning what kind of person he truly is. Still, he doesn’t dwell on it, choosing instead to follow Namjoon’s lead.

As Namjoon pulls out his phone to text a few friends, Jungkook exhales slowly. The familiar comfort of his cabin feels like a welcome retreat. But the moment he unlocks the door and steps inside, the comfort vanishes.

"What the fuck?" Namjoon blurts out beside him, his voice sharp with shock. Jungkook freezes, his eyes widening as he takes in the chaos. His room is unrecognizable... furniture overturned, belongings scattered everywhere. But it’s the wall that grabs his attention, a chill running down his spine.

GO BACK TO NEW YORK, YOU BROKE MOTHERFUCKER.

The words are scrawled in bold red spray paint, glaringly hostile against the pale wall. Jungkook’s lips part in disbelief as he struggles to process what he’s seeing.

His gaze darts around the wreckage, landing on his camera lying on the floor. The sight makes his stomach drop... the lens is shattered, pieces of glass glinting in the light. His fists clench at his sides, and his jaw tightens as anger bubbles beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

Namjoon steps forward cautiously, his brows furrowed as he surveys the destruction. "Who the hell would do this?" he mutters, his tone a mix of anger and disbelief.

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately, his chest heaving as he stares at the damage. Whoever did this wasn’t just trying to vandalize... they were sending a message. A clear, personal message meant to hurt, to unsettle.

Namjoon places a firm hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Jungkook...” he says, his tone steady but urgent. “We need to report this. Now.”

Jungkook shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “No, it’s okay.” he breathes out. “I don’t want to make a scene.” He doesn’t elaborate, but deep down, a suspicion simmers. He has a hunch who’s behind this.

Namjoon’s lips press into a thin line, clearly unconvinced. His gaze flickers over Jungkook’s tense expression before he nods reluctantly. “Alright...” he concedes, though the hesitation in his voice is evident. “But at least... let’s get someone to clean this up.”

As they step out of the cabin in search of help, Jungkook’s eyes catch a flicker of movement down the hallway. A group of men stand at the far end, partially hidden behind the corner of a wall. They’re watching him.

The moment Jungkook’s gaze locks on them, they smirk, their expressions dripping with smugness, almost as if they’re proud of what they’ve done.

Jungkook’s stomach churns as the group casually turns and saunters away, their laughter echoing faintly. It’s obvious... they’re Wooyoung’s friends. The realization cements his earlier suspicion, and anger flares in his chest.

Childish. Immature. Petty. That’s all he can think. What kind of people stoop so low, targeting someone just because of who they’re dating? He feels the bitterness rise in his throat but forces himself to swallow it. Dwelling on it would give them more power than they deserve.

Namjoon notices the shift in Jungkook’s demeanor and follows his line of sight. “Them?” he asks, his voice low. Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose and nods, though he says nothing.

Instead, he straightens his posture, his resolve hardening. “Let’s just focus on fixing this.” he says finally, his voice steady. He’s unsettled, undeniably, but he refuses to let them win by giving the reaction they clearly want.

As the staff arrive to clean up the mess, Jungkook quietly requests Namjoon to let the incident go. “Please... don’t tell anyone about this.” he murmurs, his tone firm. “Not Taehyung... not Y/n. No one.” He says and Namjoon nods understandingly though he feels Wooyoung's actions need to be informed, especially to you.

The cruise crew, apologetic and accommodating, offers him a new cabin for the night while all the repairs are arranged. Jungkook accepts with a quiet nod, and Namjoon insists on helping him move his luggage.

Once everything is settled, Namjoon lingers at the doorway of the new cabin. His brows knit together in concern as he looks at Jungkook.

“You sure you’ll be okay, buddy?” he asks gently. Jungkook stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He offers a tight-lipped smile, nodding. “Yeah, don’t worry about me.” he says, his voice quieter now.

Namjoon observes him for a beat longer, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the flicker of something unresolved in his eyes. “Thanks for tonight, Namjoon.” Jungkook says after a moment, breaking the silence.

“No need to thank me, man. Just... if you need anything, call me, okay?” Namjoon’s voice is soft but reassuring. He gives Jungkook a small, supportive smile before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Now alone, Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh as he sinks onto the edge of the bed. The events of the night replay in his mind, but they’re overshadowed by the larger storm brewing within him.

The spray-painted words and broken camera are bothersome, sure, but they pale in comparison to the weight of the new information he’s learned about you.

Why hadn’t you told him?

The question gnaws at him. His thoughts spiral, each one sharper than the last. He wonders about the secrets you kept... your family’s reality, their influence, their power, their reach. Part of him understands, he really does.

But another part wonders if you didn’t trust him enough or if you were testing him somehow. The doubt curls in his chest, tightening with each passing second.

Before he can sink further into his thoughts, his phone buzzes. The screen lights up, and your name flashes on it. He stares at it for a moment, his thumb hovering over the answer button as he draws a calming breath. He doesn’t want you to know what happened tonight. Not yet.

And even amidst the chaos, he’s missed you, and the thought of hearing your voice is a welcome relief. He finally picks up, holding the phone to his ear.

“Hi, Kook!!” Your voice is bright and warm, cutting through his clouded thoughts. Despite himself, Jungkook smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “Hi, baby.” he murmurs softly, his voice carrying a warmth that matches yours. For a moment, everything else fades, and it’s just the two of you again.

“Oh my god, I missed you so much.” you whine, your voice filled with a playful pout. Jungkook exhales a soft laugh, leaning back onto the mattress and clutching his phone tighter against his ear. A smile tugs at his lips, one he doesn’t bother to suppress as he stares at the unfamiliar ceiling of his new cabin.

“Why? Is Jeju that boring?” he teases, the humor in his voice masking the heaviness still lingering from earlier. “Without you? Everything’s boring.” you retort, the response so quick and earnest it pulls a chuckle from him. The sound carries a warmth that he didn’t realize he desperately needed until now.

“How’s the cruise going? Having fun?” you ask, your words bubbling with genuine curiosity. Jungkook’s eyes flit to the corner of the room, where his suitcase sits haphazardly unpacked.

Fun. The word feels almost foreign after the day he’s had. But for you, he keeps his voice steady.

“Yeah, it’s been fun.” he lies smoothly, weaving the words together like armor. “Oh my god, I’m so glad to hear that!” Your excitement is so pure, so untainted, it makes him momentarily forget the day he's had. “I went to the Snoopy Garden today and it was so freaking adorable! You’d love it. We have to come here together.” you beam.

He can’t help but smile at your words. “That sounds nice, baby.” he chuckles. “Make sure to send me pictures. I wanna see.”

“Of course! I’ll send them right after we hang up.” you promise, your enthusiasm so contagious that Jungkook feels the tightness in his chest ease ever so slightly.

As you continue to talk, filling him in on the small joys and whimsical adventures of your day at the island, he feels the tension seeping out of him.

Wooyoung, the spray-painted words, the shattered camera, the mocking laughter from the hallway, all of it fades into the periphery. Your voice, your laughter, the ease with which you share your world with him... it all anchors him in a way he can’t quite explain.

A few minutes later, there’s a sudden muffled noise on your end, and Jungkook recognizes the sounds of your friends calling you. He doesn’t need to ask, he already knows what’s coming.

“Okay, baby, I think I have to go.” you say reluctantly, your voice tinged with guilt. “Miyeon and the girls are dragging me to dinner.”

He hums softly, a small, understanding smile curving his lips. “Of course, baby. Go have fun. Call me when you’re back, okay?” There’s a pause before he adds, with a quiet sincerity. “I love you.”

“Yes, I'll call you and I love you too.” you reply, your voice warm and unwavering. “Bye!”

The line goes dead, and for a moment, Jungkook stays there, staring at the phone in his hand. The cabin is silent again, but it doesn’t feel as suffocating as before. You’ve always had a way of making the world feel a little lighter, and tonight is no exception.

The next day flies by in a haze of chatter, laughter, and shared moments as Jungkook spends most of his time with Namjoon and Namjoon's friends.

Despite the tension simmering beneath the surface, he doesn’t let Wooyoung or his friends’ antics claw their way under his skin. He’s determined not to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

By the next afternoon, he’s in Taehyung's car along with your cousins, Namjoon and Seokjin, driving home back from the port. The ride is filled with easy conversation and the occasional bout of laughter, a welcome distraction from the remnants of unease still lingering in his mind.

“Thanks for coming, Jungkook. I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you.” Taehyung says, glancing over at Jungkook from the driver's seat, his expression apologetic. “You know how it is... my friends were dragging me everywhere.”

“It’s all good, man.” Jungkook replies with a grin. “And I totally get it. It was your bachelor party, after all.” he adds. Taehyung laughs, the sound light and carefree. “Still, I wish I could've spent more time with my sister's boyfriend.”

The familiar sight of your house comes into view not long after as Taehyung zooms past the long driveway, and Jungkook feels a wave of relief wash over him. Exhaustion tugs at his limbs, but more than anything, a quiet longing stirs in his chest. All he wants right now is to see you.

After bidding the others goodbye and hauling his luggage inside, he heads straight to your room. Your flight should be landing any time now. He checks his phone absentmindedly, hoping for a message or a call to signal your return and for now, all he can do is wait.

Miyeon giggles as she stretches her arms, stepping out of the car. “Most healing bachelorette party ever.” she declares, a dreamy expression on her face.

“I can still feel my masseuse’s hands on me. I don’t know what magic she used, but it feels like my back and shoulders have been reborn.” she exhales. You laugh as the guards step forward to collect your luggage. “Honestly, same. I want to go back just to get that massage again.”

As the guards carry your bags towards the house, you follow Miyeon inside, the faint chatter of voices growing louder the deeper you go. Your heels click softly against the marble floor as you both approach the lounge, as familiar voices draw your attention.

You peek inside and instantly smile. Seokjin is hunched over the billiards table, holding his cue stick with a dramatic level of precision. Namjoon stands to the side, visibly exasperated, one hand holding his cue stick against the floor while his other hand rests on his hip as he watches Seokjin line up a shot.

“Look Namjoon...” Seokjin drawls, his tone a mix of amusement and condescension. “You're supposed to stand like this. Your posture is a disgrace to billiards.”

Namjoon groans, running a hand through his hair. “Hyung, my posture isn’t the problem. The problem is you’re cheating.”

“Cheating?!” Seokjin straightens, feigning deep offense. “Excuse me, I play with honor and integrity. You, on the other hand, couldn’t aim if your life depended on it.” he shrugs.

“You’re just salty because your aim’s been off the entire game." Namjoon fires back. “Watch. I’m about to sink three balls in one shot.”

“Sure.” Taehyung interjects from his spot by the bar, swirling a glass of whiskey casually. “And when you miss, Jin hyung will find a way to roast you for the next hour.”

You and Miyeon exchange amused glances, both of you shaking your heads as the banter continues. Namjoon leans over the table dramatically, his cue stick angled as though he’s about to make the shot of the century.

Seokjin watches him like a hawk, ready to pounce on any mistake. Taehyung simply sips his drink, muttering something under his breath about “hopeless competitors.”

As you approach them, your thoughts wander. Despite the comfort of home and the familiarity of these voices, a part of you feels incomplete. Your eyes sweep the room once more, subtly searching for your boyfriend.

You’re desperate to see him, to feel his arms around you, to close the unbearable distance that’s stretched between you these past two days.

Somehow, two days have felt like an eternity. You’ve replayed every text and call in your mind, but nothing compares to having him here, tangible, in front of you.

“Oh my god, baby...” Taehyung is the first to notice the two of you approaching. Without missing a beat, he sets his glass of whiskey down on the bar and strides forward, pulling Miyeon into a warm hug. “You guys are back!” he exclaims, his smile wide and genuine as he steps back to take a good look at both of you.

You can’t help but grin at him, waving at Namjoon and Seokjin, who have momentarily paused their game of billiards to acknowledge your arrival.

After a few exchanges of pleasantries and brief chatter about the island trip, you finally ask the question that’s been burning on your mind. “Where’s Jungkook?”

“Oh, he’s up in your room. He seemed a bit tired.” Namjoon answers. Your lips part slightly as you nod. “Okay then. I’ll go to him. You guys enjoy yourselves.” you say, offering a warm smile before hugging everyone. Turning on your heels, you exit the lounge and begin making your way towards the staircase.

Just when you're in the middle of ascending the stairs, a voice interrupts you. “Y/N!”

You glance over your shoulder at the sound of your name, only to see Namjoon trailing behind you, his steps hesitant. His expression holds something you can’t quite decipher, like he’s battling with his own thoughts.

“Joonie?” you say, your voice laced with curiosity and just a hint of concern as you watch him climb the stairs to meet you.

“Hey...” he breathes out, stopping a step below yours, his gaze briefly dropping to the floor before he looks at you. His hesitation sends a ripple of unease through you.

“What’s up, Joonie??” you ask gently, studying his face for clues. The slight tension in his shoulders, the way he exhales like he’s carrying a weight he’s unsure he should share, it all sets your nerves alight.

“Y/N…” he begins, pausing as if choosing his next words carefully. “I’ve been debating whether to tell you this, but…” He trails off, his hand raking through his hair in frustration. You take a step closer, your heart beginning to pound. “Joonie?? Is everything okay??"

He sighs deeply, the sound heavy and conflicted. “Well.. It’s about Jungkook...”

The mention of your boyfriend immediately tightens something in your chest. “What happened to Jungkook?” you ask quickly, your voice rising with worry.

Namjoon hesitates, his gaze searching yours. “He didn’t want me to tell you this... but…” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “It doesn’t feel right to keep this from you. You should know.”

Your stomach churns, dread blooming in your chest. “Know what? What happened?” you ask again.

Namjoon looks away for a moment, as though gathering the courage to speak, before his eyes meet yours again. “It started at the bar… Wooyoung approached him. He said some things... about your past... about how your mom wanted... you and Wooyoung to get married.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

Namjoon presses on, his voice tinged with anger. “But it didn’t stop there. Wooyoung’s friends... well.. they went after Jungkook. They trashed his cabin... broke his camera... spray-painted some cruel things on the wall.” He pauses, his jaw tightening.

“They did what?” you ask, disbelief dripping from your voice. This was the last thing you ever expected to hear. Your chest tightens painfully as the weight of Namjoon’s words settles in. Jungkook had endured all of this alone and you hadn’t had the slightest clue.

And of course, knowing him you understand why he didn't want this to reach you. And somehow that breaks your heart and fills you with guilt, especially because he found out about something you’d been carefully waiting for the right moment to tell him. The layers of emotions overwhelm you, each more suffocating than the last.

“Why... why was Wooyoung even on that cruise?” you ask, your voice rising with frustration now, the disbelief giving way to simmering anger. Namjoon raises his hands quickly in defense. “Hey, That's on Jin Hyung.” he says.

"But anyways, I really thought you should know this." His voice softens as he continues. “Jungkook seemed pretty shaken up by it, even though he tried not to show it. So… please, just take care of him.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. The gratitude you feel for Namjoon is momentary, overshadowed by the urgency now coursing through your veins. Without wasting another second, you turn on your heel and dash up the stairs, heading towards your room.

Jungkook smiles to himself as he rests on the pillow, scrolling through the videos you'd sent him over the past two days. His chest warms as he watches a clip of you playing with two cats on the island, your laughter echoing softly through the speaker.

The way your nose scrunches in delight makes his heart flutter, and he giggles quietly, his thumb hovering over the replay button. "Where are you?" he mutters under his breath with a wistful sigh, the corners of his lips still tugged into a smile.

And just like magic, the door to your room suddenly bursts open with a loud bang. He jumps slightly, his phone nearly slipping from his hand. Before he can even process your sudden arrival, you’re bolting towards him.

Jungkook barely has time to sit up straight before you fling yourself onto him, wrapping your arms around him with a ferocity that nearly knocks the breath out of his lungs.

“Baby—” he starts, his voice laced with confusion and concern, but you cut him off before he can finish. “I’m sorry.” The words tumble out of your mouth in a shaky breath, muffled as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

Your hold on him tightens. “I’m sorry. Namjoon told me everything. I’m sorry about Wooyoung, I’m sorry about his friends, I’m sorry about your cabin, I’m sorry about your camera…” Your voice breaks slightly as you ramble, the guilt pouring out of you in waves.

Jungkook exhales deeply, and you feel the tension in his body ease as his arms come around you, his hands resting gently on your back. He holds you close, rubbing soothing circles against your spine.

“Is this how you’re going to greet me after spending two whole days in Jeju?” he teases, his voice light with humor, though you can hear the warmth beneath it. “What happened to ‘hi, hello, I missed you?’”

Despite the joking tone, the tender way Jungkook rubs your back anchors you. You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, a quiet warmth that seems to steady your unraveling thoughts.

“I’m really sorry, Kook.” you repeat, your voice trembling as you try to convey the depth of your regret.

He shakes his head gently, his hand leaving your back to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Baby, why are you apologizing for something you had no control over?” he asks, his tone light but earnest. “You’re not responsible for what Wooyoung or his friends did.”

“I should’ve told you about him...” you admit, your voice low, almost wavering. “About us, our past… everything. I should've been honest.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. The simple gesture makes your chest tighten with emotion, grounding you in a way that words can’t.

When he pulls back, his gaze is steady but contemplative. “Baby...” he starts carefully, his voice softer now. “Can I ask you something?”

You nod instantly, your heart thudding. “Of course. Anything.” you say. He hesitates, the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes making your stomach churn. “Why didn’t you... why didn't ever you tell me about your family?” he asks at last, the question laced with a vulnerability that makes your chest ache.

Your breath hitches at the question, and for a moment, you feel exposed. But a part of you knew this was coming. You knew that hiding your life from Jungkook and then unveiling it all on a random Thursday would inevitably lead to this moment.

“It's just…” You pause, your voice wavering as you try to find the right words, your eyes searching his face for reassurance. “Kook, when we first met... you had no idea who I was or who my family was and... you were just so... so different from all the men I grew up with.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, his gaze steady, waiting for you to continue. Instead, you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly, his silent way of encouraging you to speak your truth.

“You were this bright, passionate man with these beautiful, expressive eyes and that gorgeous, dreamy smile...” you begin, your voice trembling as a fond smile tugs at your lips.

“And for the first time in forever, I felt like I could just… breathe around someone. With you, I didn’t have to be this polished or poised woman who had to fit into some high-class society mold. I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else... because being myself around you... was just... so easy, without having to worry about where I came from and who my family was.”

Your thumb gently traces over the faint scar on his cheek, a gesture so intimate it makes his heart jump. His gaze softens, melting into yours as if you're the only person in the world. “You just... liked me for me. Not because of my family, my connections, or my status, but because of who I was with you. You saw me... the real me... when I didn’t even know how to see myself.”

Your voice falters slightly, but you don’t look away, letting him see the emotion in your eyes. “I know it was selfish of me... but I... so badly wanted to hold on to that feeling... the feeling of being loved in a way that felt so… pure." you pause, a shallow breath escaping your lips.

" I just… I just I didn’t know how to tell you about that part of me...”

Jungkook listens intently, his expression softening even more as your words sink in. Slowly, he tugs you closer, pulling you into his warm embrace. You feel his heartbeat steady against your own, his presence grounding you in a way only he can.

“Baby...” he whispers, his voice low as his fingertips trail soothing patterns along your back. “For me, it’s always been you. It always will be you. None of that other stuff matters... your family, your status, your class... they’re just parts of you that I’ll embrace because they make up the woman I love. But beyond all that, I love you for you.”

His voice dips into something deeper, more vulnerable. “And I’m glad I could bring out the real you. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and it’s an honor to be able to experience that side of you." he hugs you tighter, before continuing.

"You have no idea how my world has changed ever since you entered it. You make everything... brighter and just... more bearable. You make it all make sense. So thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for trusting me with your heart.”

Your eyes well up as you close them, leaning into his embrace. The warmth of his words, paired with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feels like the safest place you’ve ever known. “Thank you for coming into my life too.” you breathe out, voice thick with emotion.

After a beat of silence, you pull back slightly. “But I’m still sorry about Wooyoung. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind, I swear—”

“Hey.” He cuts you off, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he shakes his head. “There’s no need for that. Let’s just forget it happened, okay?”

You pout, reluctant to let it go, but his soft, reassuring expression makes you falter. “Fine...” you huff, a sigh escaping your lips. “Still...” you murmur, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of his collar. “I’m sorry, Kook. Thank you... for always being so understanding. I truly don’t deserve you.”

He shakes his head, the faintest hint of exasperation softened by the smile tugging at his lips. "You deserve the world, baby. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

A soft giggle escapes you, the light in his eyes mirrored by the smile that refuses to leave your lips. “I love you.” you whisper, the words filled with every ounce of emotion you’ve been holding in.

His toothy smile, the one that always makes your heart flutter, breaks across his face. “I love you too.” he replies.

And just like that, as if drawn by an unspoken force, he leans in, capturing your lips with his. The warmth of his kiss washes over you, soothing every ache, every worry, and filling you with a certainty that everything is exactly as it’s meant to be.

"Do we get to eat them ??" Jungkook asks, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes following your reflection in the mirror as you brush your hair. A giggle escapes your lips at his eager tone. “Of course, baby. You can eat all of them if you want to.” you reply, shooting him a playful grin.

With the wedding just around the corner, the house is bustling with preparations, but today feels different. Your grandma insisted on gathering everyone to make dumplings for the rehearsal dinner that's coming up.

You and Jungkook make your way to the dining room, the air filled with the warm aroma of freshly prepared ingredients. The large table is the centerpiece of the room, and as soon as you step inside, the sight of your family fills you with comfort and joy.

Taehyung and Seokjin are already deep in their dumpling-making attempts, though it's clear they’ve caused more chaos than progress.

Both of them have flour smeared across their faces like war paint, a result of what must’ve been an enthusiastic but poorly thought-out experiment.

“Hyung, that dumpling looks like a deflated balloon.” Taehyung teases Seokjin, holding up his creation for comparison. Seokjin huffs, rolling his eyes. “At least mine isn’t oozing out stuffing like yours, Tae. What are you making? A dumpling that's throwing up?”

“Call it modern art, Hyung.” Taehyung retorts, grinning mischievously as he tosses a bit of flour at Seokjin, who gasps dramatically. “Yah! Taehyung, do you want me to dump this entire bowl of stuffing on your head?” Seokjin warns, clearly frustrated.

Across the table, Namjoon and Miyeon work with quiet precision, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance. Namjoon occasionally sneaks a glance at the chaos brewing between Taehyung and Seokjin, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“You two are worse than toddlers.” he quips, not looking up from his perfectly shaped dumpling. “At this rate, we're all gonna finish a hundred dumplings before you guys finish ten.”

Miyeon chuckles, her hands deftly sealing another dumpling. “Joon's right. How are you both so bad at this? It’s not rocket science.”

Taehyung gasps in mock offense. “Excuse me, babe, I don't know if you've noticed but Jin hyung is literally sabotaging me!” he exclaims. “I’m the one sabotaging you?” Seokjin laughs incredulously. “Look at my face, Tae. I look like a ghost, thanks to you!”

Namjoon’s mom, your favorite aunt, sits at the far end of the table as she rolls the dough into perfect circles, her laughter ringing like a bell.

“Boys, boys...” she interjects, her voice gentle but firm. “Stop fighting and focus on your dumplings. Otherwise, your future kids will hear stories about how their dads couldn’t make dumplings to save their lives.”

Everyone bursts out laughing at her comment, even Taehyung and Seokjin, who share a sheepish grin before returning to their task.

As you and Jungkook approach the group, everyone greets the two of you with warm smiles. Jungkook pulls out a chair for you to sit, earning a scrunch of your nose in fondness at the sweet gesture. After you’re settled, he takes the seat beside you, his hand instinctively finding yours under the table.

"So, I see Tae and Jin are already setting records... for failure...” you quip, your eyes gleaming with mischief as you glance at the disfigured dumplings piled in front of them. “Hey, those are Tae’s!” Seokjin protests, pushing forward another plate of equally disastrous dumplings. “Mine look way better, see?”

“Ah, yes.” you reply with mock solemnity, inspecting the plate. “Such fine craftsmanship. Truly an expert.” you giggle.

Everyone bursts into laughter and so does Jungkook, his eyes crinkling as he takes in the scene. He looks around, marveling at the tender warmth that surrounds your family.

“Okay, watch closely everyone...” you suddenly announce, picking up a perfect circle of dough. “The secret to making a good dumpling is love. And also, not being like Taehyung.” you grin.

“Hey!” Taehyung protests, earning another round of laughter. You press on, your tone turning exaggeratedly instructive.

“First, you scoop just the right amount of stuffing... not too much, or it’ll explode like Tae’s modern art pieces.” You hold up a small spoonful of filling, placing it precisely in the center of the dough. Jungkook observes your actions, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“Next, you fold it in half, like you’re tucking it in for a nap. Be gentle, it’s delicate.”

Jungkook leans in closer, watching intently as your fingers press the edges together. “Then, you join the edges, like this... pinch... pinch... pinch.” you continue, your fingers deftly creating a neat, ruffled pattern. “Think of it as accessorizing your dumpling... it needs to be cute, you know?”

“Wow...” Jungkook murmurs, his voice full of awe. “You’re like the Michelangelo of dumplings.” he giggles. “Please.” you reply with a dramatic shrug. “I’m just a humble dumpling artist.”

Emboldened, Jungkook picks up his own piece of dough, determination written all over his face. “Alright, let me try. Scoop... fold.... pinch, pinch, pinch… done!” He holds up his quick creation triumphantly. You glance at it and press your lips together to stifle a laugh.

“Hmm....” you say, tilting your head. “Looks like your dumpling had a very long night.” you tease as the rest of the table laughs. “It’s rustic.” Jungkook counters, grinning despite himself. “Rustic indeed.” you tease, your laugh mingling with his.

As Jungkook continues fumbling with the dough, his brow furrowed in concentration, he glances around the lively table and decides to engage. “So, did you guys do this even as kids?” he asks, his voice light and curious as eyes dart between you, Taehyung and your cousins.

Before anyone can respond, the mood shifts. Your mother strides into the room, carrying a fresh tray of stuffing. Jungkook’s posture stiffens instinctively as her gaze briefly locks with his.

Her expression is impassive... polite on the surface but brimming with subtle tension. She sets the tray down and takes a seat directly across from the two of you, her movements precise and deliberate.

“Hi, Mama.” you greet warmly, your voice bright as you flash her a quick smile. She returns it with practiced ease but doesn’t linger, her attention quickly shifting to the task at hand. Her eyes flick to Jungkook, assessing him with a glance that’s colder than he’d prefer. He swallows hard, the discomfort settling in his chest like a heavy stone.

“It was more like we didn’t have a choice.” Namjoon pipes up, steering the conversation back to Jungkook’s question. His teasing tone earns chuckles from Seokjin and Taehyung, who nod in agreement.

“Exactly.” your aunt chimes in, shooting Namjoon an exaggerated glare. "We taught you, so you'd know the blood, sweat and tears it took to raise and feed you monkeys." she says as everyone laughs. Jungkook smiles faintly, grateful for the distraction, though the unease lingers.

The past few days at your family’s home had been a mix of warmth and tension for him. While the rest of your family had embraced him easily, your mother’s guarded demeanor made him feel like he was walking on eggshells. He’s done his best to stay out of her way, but now, sitting face-to-face, her disapproval is palpable.

“If we don’t pass down traditions like this, they’ll disappear.” your mother says suddenly, her voice cutting through the chatter. She folds the dough around a perfect mound of stuffing, her movements sharp and efficient. Without lifting her eyes from her work, she continues. “I’m sure you find all of this unusual.”

Her words hang heavy in the air, and Jungkook feels the weight of her unspoken judgment. “They don’t teach things like this in the West, do they?” she continues, finally meeting his gaze. Her eyes are cool, her tone sharp enough to draw blood.

The room falls silent, the cheerful chatter replaced by thick tension. Jungkook swallows, unsure how to respond while you shift in your seat, your breath hitching at the unwanted confrontation. Before you can step in, Seokjin's voice breaks the silence.

“Grandma!” he exclaims, leaping to his feet as your grandmother enters the room. He strides towards her with exaggerated enthusiasm, offering his arm. “You’re finally here!”

Grateful for the distraction, everyone rises to greet her respectfully. Her presence is like a balm, soothing the room’s strained energy. She smiles warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she takes in the bustling scene.

“Y/N-ah...” she says, her gaze landing on you before shifting to Jungkook. “You brought Jungkook too.” Her smile widens as she inches closer to him, her hand lifting to cup his cheek gently. “Hello, sweetheart.” she says, her voice warm and affectionate.

Jungkook bows slightly, his lips curving into a polite smile. “Hello, Grandma.” he replies softly, the tension in his chest easing under her kind gaze.

As everyone settles back into their seats, your grandmother sits at the head of the table, near your mother, her sharp eyes scanning the dumplings in front of her. “Did you make those?” she asks lightly, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Your mother forces out a stiff smile. “Yes, Ma.” she replies. “Hmm.” your grandmother hums thoughtfully, inspecting the dumplings more closely. “It seems you’ve lost your touch.” she adds.

Jungkook notices the way your mother’s jaw tightens, her forced smile barely hiding the undercurrent of irritation. “I’ll do better.” she replies, her voice taut, the words clipped as if forcing themselves out.

It’s a subtle moment, so fleeting it slips past everyone else in the room, including you. But Jungkook catches it. The way her fingers pause ever so slightly over the dumpling she’s shaping, the sharp edge in her tone... it all lingers in the air, faint yet telling.

Just as he processes what he’s seen, your mother’s gaze suddenly snaps up, meeting his. Jungkook’s eyes widen instinctively, caught off guard by her piercing stare. Her expression shifts in an instant, the forced warmth melting away to reveal a sour look that seems to pin him in place.

In that split second, Jungkook realizes... she knows he saw it.

Not wanting to overstep or make things worse he quickly averts his eyes, pretending to focus on the dumpling in his hands. He swallows hard, willing himself to appear unaffected, as though he hadn’t just witnessed the moment.

But the unease remains. He can feel her gaze lingering on him for a second longer before she looks away, her mask of politeness slipping back into place.

Jungkook exhales softly, his shoulders tight as he resumes his task. He glances at you, wondering if you’ve noticed anything, but you’re too engrossed in folding the dumplings to sense the silent exchange.

Still, the weight of your mother's reaction stays with him. For the first time, he wonders if your mother’s reservations aren’t just about him but about something deeper, something unresolved within her.

As Jungkook steps out of the dining room, the faint smell of flour and spices still clinging to his hands, he glances around, searching for the washroom. Despite having spent days at your house, he still finds the maze-like layout disorienting. The grand size of the place only adds to his sense of displacement.

He sighs in mild frustration, realizing he’s turned down the wrong hallway yet again. Just as he’s about to retrace his steps, he notices someone approaching from the other end. His stomach sinks slightly as he recognizes your mother.

She seems preoccupied as she carefully dusts her dress. Jungkook freezes instinctively, his smile faltering as she nears. Though he musters up a polite smile when she looks up, she doesn’t return it.

As the silence stretches and her gaze lingers on him, Jungkook decides to break the tension. “I’m…” he begins, clearing his throat nervously. “I’m a little lost.” he admits with an awkward laugh, gesturing vaguely towards the hallway behind him.

Your mother stops a few feet away, her arms crossed loosely. Her expression is unreadable, though Jungkook can feel the weight of her scrutiny. “This house can be... confusing.” she replies, her tone neutral but edged with something unspoken.

Jungkook nods quickly, eager to agree. “Yeah, definitely. I thought I had it figured out, but I keep ending up in the wrong place.” He chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

She studies him for a moment longer before sighing quietly. “The washroom is down that way.” she curtly says, pointing towards the opposite hall.

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” Jungkook says, his tone earnest. He hesitates for a moment, feeling the urge to say something more... something to break the wall between them. “Also... I… I just really wanted to thank you..." he starts and your mother's brows furrow, trying to understand where this is coming from.

Jungkook notices her confusion and decides to press on, his voice tentative yet earnest. “For, um… for letting me stay here. I know it can’t be easy, having someone new around. But I just… I really appreciate it.” he says, his words measured yet sincere.

She studies him for a moment, her gaze unreadable. Then, a faint, almost imperceptible smile curls one corner of her lips. “It isn’t easy.” she admits, her tone steady, though there’s an edge to it that makes him slightly uneasy.

“But, surprisingly…” she begins, stepping a little closer, her expression unreadable. “I see myself in you.” she says. Jungkook blinks, unsure how to respond. He waits, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

“Y/N’s grandmother...” she continues, her voice calm. “She was never accepting of me. When Y/N’s father told her he wanted to marry me… well, let’s just say it was far from a warm approval.”

Her gaze locks onto Jungkook’s, her eyes sharp and unwavering. “I wasn’t her first choice. And, honestly...” she chuckles dryly, though the sound lacks humor. “I wasn’t her second either.”

Jungkook’s expression softens as understanding starts to dawn, the earlier interaction between her and your grandmother now making more sense. “Gosh… I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” he says quickly, his voice laced with genuine remorse.

She acknowledges his apology with a small smile, though her gaze remains cold, unyielding. “I didn’t come from the right family, didn’t have the right connections. To her, I wasn’t an adequate match for her son.” she explains.

“But… she eventually came around, right?” Jungkook asks cautiously, his tone tinged with hope. She exhales, the sound heavy with years of pent-up emotion.

“It took many years.” she admits, nodding faintly. “She had her reasons... valid ones, even. But I worked hard, sacrificed more than I ever thought I could. Eventually, she saw how much traditions and family mattered to me, and maybe that earned her respect. But...” she pauses, her faint smile turning somber. “There were many days when I wondered if I’d ever truly measure up.”

Jungkook listens intently, his chest tightening with a newfound appreciation for the struggles your mother seemed to have endured.

“And having lived through all of that...” she begins again, her voice lower now, each word carrying weight. “I know one thing for certain...”

She takes another step closer, her presence suddenly oppressive. Her smile twists into something darker, a faint smirk with a sharp edge that sends a shiver down Jungkook’s spine.

“You will never be enough.”

<- part 4

series masterlist

taglist: @mirinaeii @taetaecatboy @tsukiesimp @lovingkoalaface @taekrve @jaytheatiny @loverofannabeth @jaerisdiction @whoa-jo @parkinglot-nights @reneeblack6230 @rrosiitas

#jungkook fic #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #bts fic #enemies to lovers #jungkook fanfiction #crazy rich asians

99 notes · View notes

firstkanaphans · 8 hours ago

Text

P'Dome released a 3-chapter chat fic set in the Peaceful Property universe as a Christmas present to the fandom. You can view the first chapter here in Thai and I have translated the text below for anyone interested. I will translate the other two chapters as well, but it may take me a few days. Enjoy!

Mon, 23/12 Vimarnsukman Ghost-Hunting Co.

go HOME!: [rock ‘n roll Santa gif reading “MERRY X-MAS!!!”] go HOME!: let’s play secret santaaaaaaa pangx2🍞: screammmmm pangx2🍞: yes yes yes yes yes yes Lawyer Kan: If I could interrupt the fun na ka Lawyer Kan: I’ve told you before ka Lawyer Kan: If you want to talk about something unrelated to work Lawyer Kan: Please go chat in the group “Vimarnsukman Recreation” ka go HOME!: 🙄🙄🙄 pangx2🍞: Maeeeee pangx2🍞: Me and P’Home are the only ones who respond in that group pangx2🍞: Mae and Hia won’t even send a sticker Lawyer Kan: I respond ka go HOME!: 🤔 Lawyer Kan: In my head pangx2🍞: [gif of a cartoon rabbit reading “WOW”] Lawyer Kan: If Khun Peach doesn’t respond, I’m not responding either ka peach93: Kan… go HOME!: 🤣🤣🤣 go HOME!: let’s play naaaaaaaa go HOME!: we can pick a date now go HOME!: christmas eve, tuesday the 24th, at the restaurant pangx2🍞: Is there a theme, Por? pangx2🍞: In case I want to make content for my channel 💅🏼💅🏼💅🏼 Suradech Ketmuangrong: What is “secret satan”? go HOME!: [Halloween gif reading “BOO HAPPY HALLOWS EVE”] go HOME!: a halloween theme! go HOME!: since we’re ghost hunters 😎 Lawyer Kan: I need some additional details na ka Lawyer Kan: What is the price limit ka? Lawyer Kan: I want to make sure I follow the rules ka go HOME!: no limit baby go HOME!: up to you ka go HOME!: just put some heart into it 😘 Lawyer Kan: Would it be possible for me not to play ka? pangx2🍞: You have to play, Mae!!! pangx2🍞: @ Suradech Ketmuangrong I will teach you!

3 days ago Fr, 20/12 peach93 & go HOME!

peach93: Ai’Home peach93: Are you busy? go HOME!: [Phone call with Peach lasting 3:07:13] peach93: 🙂 go HOME!: [gif of Donald Duck tucking himself into bed that says “GOOD NIGHT!”]

Sat, 21/12

peach93: [Phone call to Home. No response] peach93: [Phone call to Home. No response] go HOME!: Sorry! I was outside go HOME!: [Phone call to Peach. No response] go HOME!: [Phone call to Peach. No response]

Sun, 22/12

go HOME!: [Phone call to Peach. No response] go HOME!: [Phone call to Peach. No response] go HOME!: dude go HOME!: don’t play hard to get man go HOME!: please call me

Today Mon, 23/12

go HOME!: hey mueng! go HOME!: i got your sister for secret santa go HOME!: what’s she into these days? go HOME!: … go HOME!: silence go HOME!: are you still sulking? peach93: I’m not sulking! peach93: I’m busy with other people go HOME!: what other people? peach93: [picture of a temple] go HOME!: Ai’Peach! go HOME!: I told you not to go!!!! peach93: Well, I went peach93: What are you going to do about it now? go HOME!: mueng go HOME!: it wasn't just me. the villagers said not to go either go HOME!: that it’s not an ordinary ghost go HOME!: it’s a demon go HOME!: [gif from Attack on Titan of men running] go HOME!: have you ever seen Attack on Titan? peach93: Isn’t this better than doing nothing? peach93: The villagers needed help, so I had to come go HOME!: you have to help yourself first, asshole go HOME!: just opening the restaurant every day is already incredibly tiring go HOME!: you still go to the market by yourself every morning peach93: I invite you every morning peach93: Why don’t you go with me? go HOME!: i’m not a morning person ka go HOME!: so what's your plan? go HOME!: when the sun goes down, you go off and fight demons? go HOME!: no wonder you asked to close the restaurant today go HOME!: it’s because of this na go HOME!: i don’t like it peach93: That’s my job! go HOME!: I don’t care go HOME!: why haven’t you been answering the phone? peach93: I already told you. I came to help the villagers go HOME!: you’re sulking. just admit it. go HOME!: ai’peach go HOME!: you know why i don’t want you to go go HOME!: it’s dangerous go HOME!: it’s so dangerous man go HOME!: if something happened to you... peach93: Yeah yeah yeah. I know. go HOME!: Send me your location peach93: 🐳🐋 [Translator’s note: the word for “location” is the same as the word for “dolphin.”] go HOME!: that’s a whale peach93: [sends his location] go HOME!:🐻‍❄🐻‍❄️

5 hours later Tue, 24/12 01:13

peach93: Are you home yet? go HOME!: [Gif of Donkey from Shrek shaking his head. Gif reads “NOPE.”] peach93: You should have just slept over in my room like I said go HOME!: your bed is too small go HOME!: it’s uncomfortable peach93: You’re so spoiled, Khun Noo peach93: I didn’t hear you complaining when we were working together to set up the restaurant go HOME!: I was drunkkkkkkkk go HOME!: that doesn’t count! peach93: 555 peach93: Fine peach93: Thank you for coming na peach93: 🙂 go HOME!: Come on na. Who is it? go HOME!: the name of the villager peach93: Asshole. I’m not talking to you anymore. go HOME!: 🤣🤣🤣 go HOME!: [Phone call to Peach. No response.] go HOME!: hey! go HOME!: what’s the matter? why aren’t you picking up? peach93: Aren’t you with P’Suradech? go HOME!: yes. why? peach93: Call me when you get to your room. go HOME!: why? go HOME!: are you embarrassed? peach93: I’m not embarrassed! go HOME!: sure sure sure

44 minutes later

go HOME!: [Phone call to Peach lasting 02:08:09] peach93: 🙂 go HOME!: [Gif of Jerry from Tom and Jerry crawling into bed with the caption “NIGHTY NIGHT”] go HOME!: hey wait go HOME!: what does your sister like na? go HOME!: damn it! we talked for hours go HOME!: i forgot to ask go HOME!: 5555 peach93: No matter what you get her, Pang will love it. peach93: just put some heart into it 😘 go HOME!: dude go HOME!: r u bullying me? go HOME!: [sticker of angry kitten] peach93: 55555555555

Tue, 24/12 11:03 pangx2🍞 & Lawyer Kan

pangx2🍞: Mae pangx2🍞: [Picture of Peach and Home asleep in bed together] pangx2🍞: What does this mean!!!!!! Lawyer Kan: … Lawyer Kan: I think this is how boys have fun ka pangx2🍞: Mae! I’m serious! pangx2🍞: since when did they start seeing each other? pangx2🍞: Mae! Why do you never answer me? pangx2🍞: fine Pangx2🍞invites Suradech Ketmuangrong to the chat pangx2🍞: P’ Suradech Suradech Ketmuangrong: Krup pangx2🍞: [Picture of Peach and Home asleep in bed together] Lawyer Kan: You didn't have to send it again ka pangx2🍞: Does P’Suradech already know ka!!!! Suradech Ketmuangrong: Krup pangx2🍞: omgggg since when ka! Suradech Ketmuangrong: Krup pangx2🍞: since the day the restaurant opened? pangx2🍞: screammmmmmmmm Lawyer Kan: Khun Pang ka Lawyer Kan: All Khun Saradech said was “krup” ka pangx2��: Mae, be careful pangx2🍞: this is a company secret na pangx2🍞: you’re violating section 19/93, paragraph 1991 Lawyer Kan: Where did you get that information ka? pangx2🍞: I just typed random numbers pangx2🍞: but that’s not the point! pangx2🍞: Mae! pangx2🍞: this kind of thing affects the stability of the company na Lawyer Kan: It’s all true. Just like you said, Khun Pang ka pangx2🍞: Then tonight we will reveal this secret to make them lose face!!!! Lawyer Kan: Your life seems very empty, Khun Pang na ka pangx2🍞: secret santa ❌ secret lover ✅ pangx2🍞: Ai’Hia Peach! Ai’P’Home! pangx2🍞: I will see you tonight for sure!!! Suradech Ketmuangrong: Krup

To be continued

#peaceful property #peaceful property fic #written by the director #not by me #peachhome #i said what i said

70 notes · View notes

adventures-in-mangaland · 7 hours ago

Text

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs: Christmas Edition

I've been racing to meet my GoodReads reading goal (lol) so I haven't actually read that many festive fics. 😅 Still, I can't stay away from this fandom, so here are a few recs. Please send me suggestions so I can catch up!

You Were The Heart Of It by dear_monday

A magic spell keeps manufacturing wintery romantic situations for the boys. Great use of holiday romance tropes and love confessions. Plus Edwin being awkward.

I also loved the last chapter of their and two_ravens' wonderful fic Wunderkammer, read it for New Years feels and an appearance by the Mari Lwyd, a Welsh Christmas folk tradition.

Ghost Wine and Keepsakes by Asidian

The boys get a bit squiffy and Charles tracks down a family heirloom for Edwin. Peak gift giving fic, really touching.

The Case of the Enchanted Mistletoe by Asidian

First kiss via forced proximity and a magic mistletoe infestation. Alas, the mistletoe can only be removed via kissing and there's rather a lot of it to get through... Very cute.

The Great Sock Garter Debacle of '24 by Asidian

In which Edwin misinterprets a Christmas gift, leading to kissing and angst with a happy ending. Interesting exploration of cultural differences with a devastating side trip into Charles' canon (self-esteem gift-related) childhood trauma.

All is bright by ghostinthelibrary

Missing scene from the fantastic fic Came up from that lake of fire. Alive again over Christmas, Edwin and Charles both try to recreate each other's Christmas childhood traditions. Kitchen mishaps ensue. Wholesome.

I also really enjoyed beneath the winter snow by the same author, which is a lovely early friendship fic about the boys playing in the snow. Spot on characterisation and early-years lore.

The Christmas Wish Debacle of '23 by Leandra

Charles accidentally wishes himself and Edwin alive again via a magical Christmas decoration. Cue the boys rushing to pack in all the alive-again culture shocks and Christmas/holiday romance tropes they can before the spell wears off. Lovely post canon fic with a fun concept and lots of pining.

above all I want you to be warm by shadowquill17

Alive AU about the boys making out and exchanging Christmas gifts. This is technically part of a series about the boys going to St Hilarion's together and being boyfriends, though it can be read as a standalone. I love how enamoured they are with each other and the gift exchange is lovely.

he's perfect enough without ever dressing up by thegirlofthorns

Christmas jumper fic! Charles attempts to teach Edwin about important Christmas traditions, like hideous jumpers and reindeer. Very cute.

my snowman and me by sunnylemonss

The boys playing in the snow with some Outsider PoV from the perspective of the neighbours. Very cute and I loved the neighbour lore.

Their fic (there's no place like) home for the holidays also sounds intriguing. It's an established relationship fic and Modern/Alive AU about the boys as young adults spending Christmas with Charles' mum after his dad's death. Sounds good!

burning bright by williamvapespeare

An interesting look at the boys' very different attitudes to Christmas with a focus on lights. Really sweet.

Mistletoe by softestpunk

Short and sweet one shot about the Night Nurse and Kashi meeting again at Hob and Dream's Christmas party. Via MISTLETOE. I'm always happy to see more of Kashi and the Night Nurse getting all flustered was adorable. I ship it.

@ghostinthelibrarywrites @softest-punk @sunnylemonss @tumblerislovetumblerislife @guardianspirits13 @shazziez @whatthehorsedoicallthisblog @shadowquill17 @neurodivergent-fangirling @many-gay-magpies @extremely-eager-reader @atariakana @colourmornings @herebehunters @avoiceofnerat @littlepocketuniverse @overlord-of-chaos @fairandfatalasfair @every-moment-a-different-sound @dear-monday @tw0-ravens @bibliomancer7 @c-rowland @nuttersinc @a-pale-jewel @nobledragonflying @sameen-shawv @tessaaaaa @williamvapespeare

54 notes · View notes

obsidiannebula · 12 hours ago

Text

How to Spot AI-Generated Reference Texts

This morning I celebrated a lovely Christmas with my family. My 3 year old was ecstatic, I made my brother tear up, it was a good time. But I received something that at first, seemed like the kind of thing I would very much like to own... until I started actually looking through it. I quickly realized that this book is unmistakably AI-generated slop and should not be used or trusted as an actual reference guide. Having not been written by an actual expert in the field or even compiled by an actual researcher citing sources and synthesizing information, these books are at best three hundred pages of reading the first couple of sentences of a search result for each topic, and at worst full of dangerous misinformation that can get people killed, as with the rise of AI-generated mushroom foraging books. These are in no way reliable reference guides for anything, but especially for anything with potential health risks like ingesting plants and their compounds.

So today I'm going to try and get some good use out of this book I now own by using it to demonstrate how to spot AI-generated scam books.

The first red flags jump out at us right from the cover. This is "The Home Apothecary Full Collection: Your In-Depth Holistic Guide with Natural Herbal Remedies for Long-Lasting Wellness and Optimal Health." Yeesh, what a mouthful. A soulless, artless mouthful, I must add. But hey, maybe this author is a very clinical or verbose type. Except a quick search for the author's name, Megan Morren, quickly makes it clear that this is not a real person. There is one bare-bones Facebook profile for a Megan Morren, and no social media beyond that. No LinkedIn or Pinterest or mentions in an article, nothing. Every other result shows her books: this one, and two others nearly identical to it, with slightly different names but the same "1500+ Remedies/Extra Content" claim in the same corner, utilizing the same fonts and each with a very similar AI-generated background.

That's right, we've got a pretty bog-standard AI-generated image for the cover of this book, showcasing a variety of vaguely herbal plants and jars as well as several nonsensical non-objects.

Okay, so the cover was definitely made by AI, but maybe this author is writing under a pseudonym and visually just not very creative. Let's open it up and took a look at...

Oooookay so that's how we're getting the "40 books in one" claim touted on the cover. What most people would call a chapter is here billed as an entire book, with each subtopic considered its own chapter. There's not more than two or three "chapters" per "book" and most of the chapters are only one or two pages long, which is some James Patterson-ass shit. At least if Patterson had written this book there'd be a little character to the narration and an attempt at wit, but as we'll soon see, the actual writing is... wanting, to say the least.

Obviously the first observation here is that formatting is for the BIRDS. No paragraph breaks or indents, and the paragraphs are all of roughly similar length. Furthermore, the writing reads like a copy/pasted Wikipedia page. Scratch that, I went ahead and typed "history of herbal healing" into a search engine and found the actual Wikipedia page for "History of herbalism," which actually does provide more detail on the topic as well as FIFTY-FOUR ACTUAL SOURCES and some recommended further reading, making it vastly superior to this slop. Because there's not a single source cited in this entire book, nor is there an author bio here or online that remotely suggests that the author might have some experience and expertise from which they are drawing to write or even fact-check this book.

On top of that, there is truly no authorial voice whatsoever. Even if you wanted to be very academic about it and avoid using first-person in your reference book, there should at least be some synthesizing of sources and information, expanding on the ideas presented and combining them to draw new conclusions or illustrate points. But everything here is incredibly surface-level, like someone copied the first sentence or three from the first Google result and stuck it there and then moved on to the next bullet point in the outline.

Seriously, this whole book is just page after page of walls of text. It's a nightmare to try to read if you have any sort of reading-impairing disorder like dyslexia or ADHD, and it's also just kind of ugly. And in a book supposedly about herbalism, there is not a single image or diagram. That's wild to me. There is nothing in here to aid with plant identification or demonstrate the tincturing or decocting processes or anything. I've never read an herbalism book without a single picture or diagram. Granted, I've only read a handful, but still, it seems very strange to me. And god did these endless blocks of text need SOMETHING to break them up.

Also these introductory paragraphs just scream "obligatory" to me. They're all a single paragraph of approximately the same length, providing a perfunctory and colorless overview of the subject matter. I mean, seriously? We're starting off "uplifting herbs for depression" with "Depression affects millions globally. It is characterized by x and y. While it is conventional treated with medication and therapy, there are also some herbs that can improve mood." It's so bland and robotic and uninformative. I think most fifth graders could write a better introductory paragraph, as long as we didn't penalize them for spelling or grammar.

I'd really like to get back to spending the holiday with family, so I'm going to leave it at that. It's just so frustrating to see books like this pushing legitimate texts written by real people with real expertise or at least personality out of bookshelves and searches, propagating useless or even dangerous information in place of sharing real knowledge and traditions. I had to rant a little bit and get it off my chest.I wish everyone a safe and happy holiday season, and all the best for 2025. Everyone, that is, except "Megan Morren." Whoever you really are, I hope you step on Legos every day for the rest of your life. It's the least you deserve for publishing trash like this.

#scam awareness #herbalism #bad books #the home apothecary full collection

61 notes · View notes

godmadeaterribleerror · 1 day ago

Text

More Than You Could Ever Know - Part 3

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Falling into my well-tread pattern of everything I write getting steadily longer chapter by chapter. Enjoy!

Title from All I Want For Christmas is You by Mariah Carey

Word Count: 12.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You and Ben have a Christmas Eve date. Many gifts are opened. Usual Warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth rotting fluff, established relationship, Christmas Special

Part 2

Read on A03!

When he wants to be, Ben is shockingly romantic. It doesn’t surprise you—you can feel the power and fervor of his love every second, its pious and wrathful devotion all focused on you—but he always manages to outdo himself. To be more romantic than any epic poem or tragedy, to know you better than you might know yourself, to be the best fuck you’ve ever had every single time.

What does surprise you is how he still sometimes aches with mold in your chest. How you’ve shown him time and time again that, if he asked, you’d learn to raise the dead and travel through time and move planets with only your hands for him. You’d burn out the sun and create worlds fueled only by your love for Ben, and he’s always surprised that’s the truth.

It’s always been the truth. It feels like more than the truth. A little more than a fact or law. It just fucking is. You’re Ben’s. He’s yours. That’s the end of it.

And you couldn’t do better than him. Nobody could do better than Ben, and it’s why you might feel really fucking possessive of him. The gossip magazines and Fake Face—you’re pretty sure her name is Deandra or something, but you don’t really fucking care—don’t look at Ben and see an angel. They don’t fucking get that he’s everything, and safe, and strong and warm and handsome. They don’t understand that he knows how to say every right thing, that he treats you like you’re holy, and cares more than anyone you’ve ever met.

They just want his body, and he’s not a fucking whore.

He’s a little bit of a fucking whore.

He’s your fucking whore. He’s your slab of meat to objectify and drool over, to tease and touch and pout at. Ben is fucking yours. And you’re his, and you trust him with more than your life, and you love him more than the whole universe.

And he’s such a fucking asshole. And you’re going to kill him.

Can I come inside now?

No, he grunts in your head, and you can feel him. Feel that instinct of Ben moving around inside the house, doing something that he refuses to tell you about.

I never tell you no about coming inside-

Ben snorts. Smartass.

Is that a yes-

No. He says your name in the low hum of the stereo, and you feel rough affection start to cover your skin. Don’t lose your fucking mind, I’m almost done.

Done with what?

Nice try.

You sigh, leaning your head back on the seat. Are you ever going to tell me what you’re doing?

Are you ever going to tell me what that fucking secret shit was.

No, it’s still a surprise-

So is this. Fucking wait. You can almost see the cocky smirk on his face as hunger flashes through his blood. Patience is a virtue, darling-

Shut the fuck up, old man.

He chuckles in your head, and it still, somehow, rolls through your body. Brat.

Cunt. How about now-

Christ, woman. Ben in your head, and you know he’s about to open the door before he does, because your whole body starts to sing Ben. Ben, Ben, Ben, bigger than the universe and yours and Ben.

You smile at him when he appears, marching over to the car and opening the door with a glare you know is fake.

“You’re a goddamn menace,” he mutters, helping you out of the car. “Lucky I fucking love you.“

“I am, aren’t I.” You grab his face between your hands, your smile probably a little idiotic. “You’re so good to me, my love.”

He grunts, all his annoyance a good performance, but pointless when he’s still looking at you with an unyielding reverence and you can feel his love begin to pound out of his chest.

“Come on, Sunshine.” Ben offers you his hand, something alert and tight over his throat relaxing slightly when you tangle your fingers in his. “Let’s go.”

He’d insisted you dress up before you dropped Ryan off at Butcher’s for Christmas Eve. So you’d done full makeup and hair, put on your fanciest dress that was still slutty enough to make Ben’s nostrils flare and that part of him in you feel starved, and returned to the house with a strict order from Ben to stay inside until he was ready.

You’d been under the impression you were going out.

You’d been wrong.

But this is so much better.

Just to start, Ben cooked. And he’s turned out be an amazing cook. You think he doesn’t grumble and scowl about it because—in his mind—it’s another thing for him to do for you. Something he can make you, something he can care for you with. Something he can offer you, just like this. A stupidly romantic and dizzying gesture of dinner. Steak—eating birds is for fucking pussies, Sunshine—and potatoes and bread, laid out on a blanket in the living room, right next to the tree.

He knows you love the tree. Ben’s obviously figured out that you’ve been sitting in the living room so much—when you read or work or watch TV on your laptop—because of the Christmas tree. Because it makes the whole house smell even more like pine—even more like Ben—and is so colorful and warm it eases your whole body into simple happiness.

And this is making you feel high. Mindlessly happy and easy, Ben wrapped around your body—his chin resting on the top of your head as he waits for you to speak—and the whole world around you evidence of his love, and this is so good, and you love him so much, and-

“Thank you.” You turn in his arms, the smile on your face so real and made of purely love. “It’s perfect.”

Ben grunts, and the glow becomes bloody and ardorous in his chest. “You like it.”

You give him an amused look, rising up to kiss him soft and long and slow. Allowing a little bit of your blood—of your love—to move from your body to his, allowing him to tangle a hand in your hair and pull you a little off the ground as he presses his tongue on your lower lip. As you part them for him, and he groans down your throat.

I love it. You whisper in his head, making a small, content sound of bliss as his tongue sweeps over your teeth. I love you, Benjamin. Thank you.

Neither of you rush to pull apart, and when you to do there’s a long moment where Ben drops his brow to your, you curl your fingers in his chest, and you exist only in the feeling of each other. Heavy, traded breaths, bodies fit perfectly together, everything so easy.

This is so fucking easy.

It’s easy to let Ben guide you to the floor, and to watch him drop across from you with a wide, cocky grin. Easy to take whatever he offers you—food and affection and love—and smile the whole time. Easy to tug him to your side, because he’s barely a foot away, and that’s too far.

“The whole point is that it’s a date,” He grumbles your name, even as he shuffles to sit with your leg hooked over his, your body tucked into his side. “We should be fucking looking at each other-“

“I’m looking at you,” you shrug, smiling up at him. “It’s not that hard, Benjamin, you just sort of move your eyes-“

Ben leans down, kissing you until you make an undignified whimper and his chuckle sends a wave of thirst through your body.

“Fucking brat,” He mutters against your lips, pulling away with a slight shake of his head. “You’re happy like this.”

He’s talking about how you’re sitting. And you’re more than happy with that—Ben’s big and warm, still around you, still everything—but you make your words a little clearer, and little gentler. Filled with how fucking good this, he is, you feel.

“I’m happy.” You whisper, pressing a soft kiss over his beard. “Really happy.”

Ben nods slowly and grabs his plate from across the blanket, pulling you fully into his lap and folding his body over yours as you eat.

“Butcher said we could go over early tomorrow,” you lean back to watch Ben as he eats, tapping your fork against your plate. “For Ryan.”

“We were doing that shit no matter what,” A little bit of potato falls into Ben’s beard as he grumbles, and he doesn’t stop speaking as you reach up to wipe it away. “He’s our kid, Butcher’s damn lucky he gets Ryan tonight.”

You hum. “He’s our kid?”

“Of course he’s our fucking kid, I don’t see anyone else-“

“I know.” You pull a piece of steak between your teeth, smiling backwards at him. “I just like hearing you say it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Brat.”

“Cunt. Do you,” you swallow, chewing on your lower lip. “Do you think we’re doing a good job? With Ryan?”

Ben shrugs. “Doing the best damn job we can, but the kid’s already seen some shit.”

“I know, but-“

“It’s a fucking miracle he can go to school and laugh, Sunshine,” he grunts, moving one hand to cup your chin, keeping your gaze on his. “That’s a good job.” Ben presses a soft kiss to your lips, speaking against them. “You’re doing a good fucking job.”

You let out a soft, happy sigh, and the constant tension over your lungs—that, just maybe, you were fucking up Ryan more—eases a little bit as you curl further into Ben’s arms. “Thank you.”

Ben scowls, but the glow blooms over his whole body. “Don’t. Tell me about work.”

“There’s not much to tell,” you mumble, setting your plate back on the ground. “It’s going well? Everything’s going smoothly, nobody is trying to kill anyone else, we- oh,” You grin at him. “Can you keep a secret?”

He nods, watching you carefully, and your smile grows.

“Hughie’s going to propose,” you whisper. “He showed MM and I the ring.”

Ben grunts, his fingers moving to touch your engagement ring, resting easier and natural next to your wedding band. “Good for them.”

“That it?” You tilt your head at him. “Just good for them?”

He rolls his eyes at your deep voiced impression of him, raising your hand to kiss your palm. “What the fuck am I supposed to say-“

“Congratulations?” You suggest. “Maybe call Hughie and offer him some advice?”

“Advice-“

“On marriage.” You smile at him, and the love in his body grow fervorish. “You’re doing a good job. Share your wisdom, old man.”

He scowls, but falls silents for a long moment. Rubbing circles on your skin as he scans over your face, pulling you carefully and reverently apart as he actually thinks about it.

“Keep your wife happy.” He mutters, and you think you might have melted from how firm and certain he sounds, how he’s looking at you like you’re the sun, how his love is alive and furious in your body. “And fuck her like she deserves.”

You giggle, the noise a little high and needy. “Romantic.”

“Shut the fuck up, brat, you love it.”

“I do,” you sigh, pulling his arms a little tighter around him. “How’s work for you-“

“Fine.”

“Just fine-“

“It’s easy shit, but I don’t fucking love it, darling. Christ, Butcher is my goddamn boss.”

“Well, at least he’s giving you the holidays off-“

“He fucking better be.” Ben glares into the air. “Pussy picks up another case, he’ll have to give me the best damn blowjob in history to get me to work it.”

You snort, giving him a fake pout. “I thought your dick was mine, Pretty Boy-“

“It is.” He grunts, kissing the top of your head. “So he’s never fucking getting me to go.”

“What if he asked really nicely?”

Ben raises his brows at you. “To blow me.”

“Yeah.” You hum, nodding, unable to contain the wide, bright smile on your face. “What if he begged?”

“Nobody,” Ben drawls, his deep voice moving through your whole body and settling, hot and coiled, in your gut. “Fucking begs me like you do, Sunshine. And Butcher would have to do it half as pretty as that.”

You flush, even as you whack his arm around you. “Fuck you-“

“I will,” he mutters in your ear, trailing one hand up your thigh and under your dress, his hunger starting to bloom and spread over your whole body. “We’ve got the whole house to ourselves, and you,” he kisses that spot on your neck, smirking at your breathy sigh. “Look fucking beautiful. I’d have to have lost my goddamn mind not to fuck you.”

You might have whimpered, but Ben swallows your every breath and noise with a deep, long kiss and everything turns into a warm haze of Ben.

I’m here. Ben traces his tongue over your lower lip, his hand resting at the very apex of your thigh, but not just touching you. What do you want, beautiful?

Right as he praises you, Ben presses his thumb over your clit, still covered by your panties, and your moan is loud and shameless as he starts to rub small circles.

Fuck, you throw your head back, reaching up to grab at Ben’s face, your fingers curling in his beard. Shit, Ben, please-

Please, what? He flicks you once, dragging two fingers over your clothed slit. Words, darling, need to hear that pretty fucking begging-

Ben, please, please more, need more-

He hums, latching his mouth to your neck and sucking, right as he presses his thumb firmly down on your clit, pulling a high whine from your throat. More what.

You, need you, need more of you-

I know, darling. He chuckles, resuming those slow, torturous circles. Bet you’re already fucking soaked for me, so fucking desperate, Sunshine, so fucking beautiful-

Benjamin, please- You cut your silent words off with a squeal as Ben pushes those two, broad fingers into your aching pussy through your underwear, his free hand palming at your breasts. Fuck-

You want to fucking cum, darling? That what you really need?

Yes, yes, please, Ben- You gasp as he slaps your dripping, still clothed pussy once, hunger and smug pride flaring in his chest at your whine.

“Hold it.” He mutters, and before you know what’s happening he’s hooking an arm under your legs, standing up with you held carefully in his arms. “I’ve got something for you.”

You blink at him, still a little lost in his big, strong arms around you as he carries you upstairs, the power and zeal of his love inside you, the ache between your legs that’s only growing as you drown in warm and handsome and pine and Ben-

He grunts your name, and you swallow. “Are you-

“I’m good,” you whisper, offering him a small smile as he kicks the door to your bedroom open. “You have something?”

“For you.” Ben doesn’t set you down on the bed, but in front of the bookshelf, right next to your dresser. “Early gift.”

You tilt your head up to scan over his set, firm features, all watching you with an unraveling attention. He’s tensed in your body, sore in a way that doesn’t hurt, something electric in his hands and on his tongue. Ben grabs your chin and carefully guides your gaze back to the books, his chest pressed to your back and his words low.

“Try to burn them.”

You swat his hand away, your gaze shooting up to him with a glare. “Benjamin, there is no fucking way-“

“Trust me, Sunshine.” He wraps his arms around your waist, rubbing soft circles as he holds your glower. “Just do it.”

“But they’re books-“

“I fucking know that. Trust me.” He smirks, kissing your brow as your glare deepens. “Do I ever damn lie to you, darling?”

You scowl. “No.”

“Would I ever try to pull some sort of fucking trick?”

“Shut up.” You mutter, looking back to the books with a frown. “Burn them.”

“That’s what I said.” Ben rests his chin on your brow, his body still filled with that odd electrically. “Do it.”

You sigh. “If I burn down the house, we’re getting a divorce-“

“You’re not going to burn down the damn house.”

“But if I do-“

“You’d remarry me a week later.” Ben says, his voice dry and bored. “Stop fucking stalling.”

You chew on your tongue as you raise hand, digging your nails into Ben’s arm and squeezing your eyes shut as you let a small amount of fire out from under your skin. Barely a spark, but enough to reduce paper to ash.

Ben’s whole body starts to glow with pride, nothing smells like lingering smoke, and—when you wearily drag your eyes open—the room looks the exact same.

The books look the exact same.

“What the-“

“Got Frenchie to fireproof them,” Ben spins you in his arms, and the grin on his face is almost boyish. “He used some sort of fucking coating or some shit. And it took all goddamn month, he had to do one at a time so you wouldn’t notice.”

You gape at him. At his bright smile, and chiseled, rough features, and the pure love and adoration in his eyes. Your whole brain is just a hum of Ben. All yours. He’s all yours, and he’s everything, and you might start crying because, fuck, you really couldn’t ask for anything more than him-

“Ben,” your voice is a little hoarse, your body slumped fully into his. “I, I don’t-“

There’s a flash of soreness over his skin, his arms tightening around you, and you’re moving before it can settle into his bones. Throwing yourself into him with everything you have, before he can even properly doubt the gift, can start to think that you’re not happy. That this—that he—isn’t so fucking amazing it’s making you stupid.

It’s perfect. Your hands tangle in his hair, smiling against his lips as you melt fully into his body. You’re perfect, Ben. Thank you.

Don’t. He grunts, but it turns into a long groan that sparks in your gut and presses your thighs together. You’re-

I know I am. You press your brow to his as you separate. But you are as well. And I love you.

“I love you too,” Ben’s voice is low, his hands drawing rough patterns on your hips. “And you’re still the perfect one, darling. You’re a fucking miracle.”

You swallow, leaning back to watch him carefully. “I got something for you as well,” you whisper. “But it feels kind of, um, bad now.”

He scowls. “It’s not fucking bad.”

“You don’t even know what it is, Benjamin-“

“You got it for me.” He mutters. “Can’t be fucking bad.”

“Oh. Okay.” Your smile is a little idiotic, and you press a soft kiss to his cheek before taking a long step back. “Let’s find out, then.”

Ben looks like he’s going to say something—his brows knit and a small frown on his handsome face—but it’s gone the moment you pull off your dress.

It’s a little cocky to make yourself his gift. But Ben’s nostrils are flaring, his jaw clenched so hard you’re worrying he might break it, and everything in his body is hunger. Raw, feral hunger that’s making his eyes dark with lust and his muscles flex under his shirt as he takes you in. Scans over the lingerie set you’d bought specifically for him, dark green and lace and very easily rippable. Leaving more of you exposed than covered, possibly the sluttiest thing you’ve ever owned, and all for Ben. All for how he’s watching you like he wants to ruin you, and you’re more than happy to let him.

“Christ on a fucking cross,” he mutters your name, shaking his head slightly. “You’re, fuck, Sunshine, you’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, lowering yourself to your knees with your best innocent expression. “You’re not so bad yourself, Benjamin, my love.”

“Fucking-“ He groans as you crawl forward, stopping right in front of him before smiling up at his lust-blown expression. “Are you trying to damn kill me-”

You shake your head, your smile growing. “No. But,” you run a hand up his thigh, squeezing your legs together as you see his bulge, proud and straining at his pants. “I might be trying to do something else.” You rest light fingers over him, swallowing at his low growl. “If you want.”

Ben’s chuckle is animalistic, a big, warm hand tangling in your hair and pulling your face fully back. “Fucking hell,” he says your name with an awe that’s so out of place in the hot, undying desire etched over his every feature and organ, but still so painfully natural. “You want to suck my cock, beautiful?”

“Yes, please,” you grip his wrist as he traces his thumb over your cheekbones, not trying to hide the need and borderline desperation in your voice. “Ben, please-“

“So fucking good,” he mutters, and you moan when his thumb presses on your lower lip, his throat bobbing as you open for him without thought. “Christ, Sunshine, you’re a goddamn marvel. So fucking pretty on your knees, when you fucking beg and say my name. So fucking beautiful and perfect, fucking, shit-“

You’d been fiddling with his belt as he drawled, and the moment you get it off you’re moving. Freeing his huge, already throbbing cock from his pants, swiping your thumb over the head of him before licking a long, slow stripe on the underside.

“Fuck,” Ben’s words are pushed through his teeth, his hand now braced on the dresser as you smile up at him, slowly pumping your hand over his shaft. “You’re, fuck-“

You take him fully in your mouth, bobbing your head slowly up and down as you swirl your tongue around him, moaning when he bumps the back of your throat and squirming as he groans above you.

“Jesus, fuck, you’re a goddamn miracle, darling, such a good girl, look so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth-“ He’s groan rolls through your whole body, and you start to grind onto the air. “Fuck, Sunshine, you’re so fucking beautiful, feel like a fucking sin, so- Fuck, you were goddamn made for me, fucking mine-“

Ben’s praise starts to slur as you move one hand up to play with his balls, your eyes never leaving his as you pick up your pace.

Ben, you whine around him when his hips jerk. Please, just-

You reach back to grab his hand in your hair, squeezing his balls once and sucking on the very head of him as you pull almost fully off, and he understands without question. His grip tightens, his hunger and pleasure so close to bursting in his gut, and begins to fuck your face. It’s unrelenting and brutal, your teeth grazing his cock as the wood creaks under his free hand, and it’s all you can do not to climb up his body and beg him to fuck you. To just rolls your hips and rub your thighs together as Ben watches you under lidded eyes, his words barely a growl and his cock twitching as drool falls out of your mouth.

“Fucking Christ,” he groans, slamming you down on him until your nose hit his abdomen, your nails curling in his skin. “So fucking good, darling, fucking beautiful, goddamn perfect, smart fucking mouth stuffed full of me, going to make you taste me for a hundred fucking years, fuck-“

Ben’s orgasm crashes through you like a storm, washing all of you away and turning everything into Ben. His cum hot and sticky on your tongue and down your throat, his eyes flashing as he loosens his grip and pulls you off of him with a pop. Big, careful hands wiping a stray drop of his release from lip before smearing it over your cheek, and a deep voice like a song chuckling when you moan stupidly at the gesture.

“Like that, Sunshine?” He mutters, his face drawn in amusement but his touch and tone reverent. “Like me fucking marking you?”

You whimper of his name, and Ben shakes his head in slight disbelief, his hunger already ravenous in his body.

“Already so fucked out you can’t damn speak?” Ben’s hand in your hair drifts down as he lowers down to his knees, pulling you into his arms and scanning over your face with a narrowed gaze. “Need to hear you, darling. Fucking words-“

“Fuck me.“ You whimper, because your body has decided to listen to Ben over anything else. “Please.”

Ben’s face is predatory. It’s made of the hunger in his body and this raw adoration that’s roaring in your chest. There are promises in his eyes, darkened and starving and primal, and his attention and touch seem to be searing into your skin. All of him is focused on you—Ben’s always just focused on you—and he’s massive and safe and warm, so you might have a small, mind-numbing orgasm just from his hands rubbing firm patterns on your skin and the growling promise of his voice.

“I need a minute,” he grunts, keeping you steady in his arms as he moves you onto the bed, laying you flat on the mattress. “But darling,” his mouth curving into a smirk as he takes you in, already writhing under him, your underwear soaked and expression slack with need. “I’m not fucking stupid enough to tell you no.”

“Ben,” you reach up, trying fruitlessly to grab his shirt and pull him down to you. “Please-“

“Fucking patience, beautiful.” Ben rises fully up, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulls off his shirt, his grin only growing as your hips jump off the bed from the sight of him. “Fuck, you want me that damn bad-“

“Yes, Ben, need you, I-” You cut yourself off with a gasp as Ben drops to his knees on the mattress, shoving your knees apart with a low grunt and ripping of your panties without effort. “Fuck-“

“Christ,” he mutters your name, running a finger over the lips of your pussy, his hand on your inner thigh tightening as you moan. “You’re fucking soaked. So fucking wet, Sunshine, fucking wrecked and I’ve barely touched you-“

“Ben,” you grab his hand, trying to hold it against you as you grind onto his fingers. “God, please-“

He yanks his hand away, and you make a long sound of desperation at the loss, but you’ve barely started squirming when you feel his mouth latch onto your clit, one hand planted on your stomach to keep you pinned down as he begins to suck.

Your whole body lights up. Ben’s tongue keeps drawing circles around and over you, his teeth bumping whenever his lips pull you far enough in, and you’re not even sure you remember how to moan. All you know how to do is pull at Ben’s hair and try to fly off the mattress, to hump his face as his beard brushed your thighs and the pressure on your clit becomes painfully blissful, perfect torture, and to moan words that are supposed to be pleas and screams of Ben, Ben, Ben, fuck, please, Ben, fuck, Ben, I love you-

Love you too, Sunshine. Ben growls against you, and it vibrates over your pussy and makes your eyes roll back in your head. Taste so fucking good, need you to squirt on my goddamn face- Your body obeys, something snapping and rushing through your body as Ben groans around your clit and pushes a finger into your cunt, crooking it and playing that one spot inside you until you’re a moaning, dripping mess under his touch.

And he doesn’t stop. Your eyes blur with dizzying relief and you’re wet over his beard and skin, but Ben just keeps going. He starts to flick and nip, to pump that finger inside of you, and your mouth falls open with a strangled noise as you cum again. Your thighs start to crush his face, your hips bucking and rolling in the bed, and fuck it feels so good, you can’t really think but you know this is good, and Ben doesn’t stop. He goes and goes and goes, growing sloppier and rough on your pussy as you come apart over and over and over. You’re flying and falling and singing and drowning in Ben, touching you so right your brain is fuzzy and your whole body is just for Ben. For his hands and tongue and teeth and lips to devour, to try and pull inside you as you scream and unravel for him, as he ruins you-

When he pulls away, your jaw is slack and your face might just be an open, drunken expression of Ben.

“You’re good.” Ben reappears in your vision, his handsome face coated in your release and his attention so devout—eyes searching over your face, voice low and firm, hands drifting over you like you were made for him to touch—that all you can do is whimper.

Ben, please. Just, you thrust your hips up, the movement uncoordinated and jerked. Fuck me, please-

His nostrils flare, his hands stilling on your body. “You want fucking more?”

You nod, flushing slightly, and Ben groans.

“Christ, you’re fucking perfect.” He presses a slow, long, kiss to your lips, chuckling when your lips fall open without thought. “You’ll never fucking understand, Sunshine, you’re-“ He cuts himself off, rising up to grin at you. “Fuck, you’re so good. Fucking love you.” He dives down to your neck, sucking and biting at that spot until you’re wiggling under him. “Love you so much it’s going to fucking kill me-“

Love you too, Ben, I- You almost scream as he moves to your breasts, ripping off the bra to pinch at once nipple as his mouth latches onto the other. God, Ben, please just fuck me, you fucking asshole-

He rises back up with mocking, raised brows. “Words. Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Your voice is hoarse, barely even a breath. “Please, Ben, I want you-“

He hums, and you gasp as the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. “You want my cock? Want me to fuck that perfect pussy until you’re screaming?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes please.”

“Say it.”

You swallow, your nails digging into the bare skin of his back. “I want your cock. I want you to fuck me until I scream. Please-“

Ben’s mouth slams down into yours right as he thrusts fully into your already raw, aching pussy without warning, and you’re already on the brink of another orgasm. You’re so full, and Ben’s right up against that deepest spot, and his kisses are bruising but his hands on your skin are so careful, and he tastes like salt and vanilla and Ben-

Then he starts to move, and it’s a miracle you can still breathe. His hips snap, skin slapping against yours and cock hammering into your abused and weeping cunt, and you’re scratching at his skin and grinding into his movements but it’s still not enough. It might never be enough. You might be able to die here, with Ben deep inside you, with his own hunger and need so powerful he’s only groaning into your ear, any praise low and slurred.

“Feel so fucking good,” Ben rolls his hips as he hits that spongey spot inside you, and you whine. “So tight, Sunshine, so tight and warm and good, fucking perfect, so fucking pretty and good and perfect-“

You squeeze around him, and his head falls to your brow, his movements becoming rough and uneven.

“Best fucking pussy in the goddamn world, you’re, fuck, fucking love you, want to fucking live here, want to fucking worship this perfect fucking pussy until you’re fucking ruined-“

You’re already ruined. Ben’s stretching you out and fucking you so good you can only stare at him and take it with the hope that he can feel all of your thirst and need for him. You think he can, because you whimper a sound that’s meant to be his name, and Ben’s mouth returns to yours. This kiss is almost gentle. Passionate and deep with Ben’s tongue down your throat and your mouth hanging open for him to take whatever he wants, but laced with pure love and edged with how he’s rutting into you like a dog.

Then one of his hands glides between your bodies, over your stomach, and between your legs. Two strong fingers pinch at your clit, and you might have died and been reborn in the same moment as you cum, dragging Ben with you. You’re high on him, on his growls and groans down your throat as his stuttered movements as he fucks you through your orgasms. Everything is warm and hazy and Ben, and all you can remember how to do is lay there, breathe, and smile.

Ben brushes hair from your face, his ring cool on your skin, and his eyes are carving right into the deep, most delicate part of you. A part of him you always offer him, and a part he always keeps safe and tended to.

You’re-

I’m good. Your smile widens, and you manage to raise your hands up to cup Ben’s face. Really, really good.

He nods, wrapping an arm around your waist and rolling you both over. “Fuck,” Ben presses a kiss to the side of your head, rubbing patterns on your skin as you shift above him. “I love you, Sunshine. More than goddamn anything.”

“I know.” And you do. If you’re sure of anything, you’re sure Ben loves you. That he’s yours just as much as you’re his. That you could give him everything, and he’d still find a way to give you more. “I love you too.”

You lay there for a moment, just inhaling Ben and letting him settle into a strong, pious hum in your chest. You drift off into an easy sleep that hardly feels like a blink, and when you wake up there’s light leaking through the windows and a massive weight over your body.

It’s always a little amusing when he does this. When, somehow, without fail, Ben manages to roll on top of you almost every night. Wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face between your breasts, and snoring so loud it rolls through your bones. It would be a miracle you ever got any sleep, but he’s also warm and safe and touching you so carefully you’d never choose to be anywhere else.

You’re careful not to wake him as you twist to check the time, and any sleep vanishes from your body as you read the little number on the clock.

“Ben.” You hiss, shaking him slightly above you. “Benjamin.”

He makes a low grumbling sound, tightening his grip around you and tugging himself impossibly closer to your body.

“Benjamin, wake up, we’re, shit-” You give up on trying to wake him gently, grabbing his face between your hands and raising it level with yours. “Ben!”

Ben grunts, and it’s the grunt that means you’ve got him. His hands start to knead slow patterns on your hips, his eyes still drooping as he yawns, and it would be the most adorable thing you’d ever seen if he wasn’t being so slow.

“What the fuck is going on.” He grumbles, slowly scanning over you with a small frown that turns urgent when he sees the wide-eyed expression on your face. “Are you-“

“I’m fine.” You pull him up to kiss his nose, and that seems to ease the hot, vigilant fury in his body back to concrete protection wrapped easily around your skin. “I’m good, my love. But we’re late.”

Ben scowls. “Late to-“

“Butcher’s.” You give him a pointed look. “Ryan.”

“Fuck, what time-“ Ben pushes himself up on his arms to read the clock, and drops himself back down with a scowl. “We’re not fucking late, Sunshine, we’ve got an hour-“

“Which for us is basically ten minutes-“

“It’s a fucking hour-“

“Benjamin.” You grab his face back between your hands, raising your brows slightly. “Can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me you think we’ll be able to wake up, get dressed, grab gifts, and drive to Butcher’s all in an hour? And-“ You roll your hips slightly, Ben’s proud morning wood poking into your thigh. “Keep in mind I might be willing to help you with your problem if you’re honest.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but there’s a glow over his ribs and rough affection rooted deep in his muscles when he sits up, hauling you to flop onto his chest. “Brat,” he mutters pulling you into a long, slow kiss that makes your brain happy and fuzzy, and doesn’t help the situation at all. “Butcher knows we’ll be late. Told him to tell Ryan whatever time you told him, plus an extra hour.”

You blink at him for a second, then shove his chest. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that-“

“Because,” he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You thought we had an hour, got us up early as shit, and now we have all the goddamn time in the world for you to help me with my problem.”

You wish he wasn’t right. That he wasn’t such a stupidly good husband, that you could at least pretend to maintain the illusion of being shrouded in mystery, having some sort of intriguing allure to him. But he also doesn’t seem to really fucking care about that. Ben seems to be more than happy knowing all of you, because there’s a wide, smug grin on his face and a radiance pounding in his chest that’s golden and molten and folds you into him without resistance. Ben doesn’t want allure, and you can’t really find it in yourself to really want it either. Not when he starts to squeeze your ass and suck on your neck until you’re moaning and squirming in his arms. Not when he does know you, so painfully fucking well, that he gets you to cum three times before you’re out of bed. Once his fingers and twice on his cock, throwing in a fourth when you’re half-dressed and he backs you up against the wall, pressing his knee between your thighs and watching you chase relief with an ardor and devotion in his blood and a look of awe in his eyes.

After that you have to make a no sex for the rest of the day rule, giving him a stern glare he shrugs off as you shuffle off to take your second shower and Ben sets out all the gifts for inventory.

He’s standing at the edge of the bed when you get back, frowning at the bags before him.

“We’re missing three,” he grunts as you join him, hanging slightly off his arm as you scan over the bed. “Should be seven.”

You shake your head. “No, this is right. You said one of Ryan’s was too big to transport, and I dropped the Secret Santa gifts off with Ryan last night.”

Ben pauses, still glowering at the bed, then nods and starts to grab as much as he can hold—which is all of it—to move to the car, pressing a kiss to your brow before vanishing through the door.

You don’t get to drive. Ben grabs the keys while you’re in Ryan’s room, feeding Bowser, and the asshole is standing at the car with a smirk when you stomp outside. You’d push him on it more, but you’ve never been more okay with not driving in your life. Everything is a blur of cold white, the pavement coated in black ice, and you hate the winter. No amount of stupid holidays are ever going to be able to fix how much you hate the winter. It’s too sterile, too blinding, too cold. So fucking cold.

And Ben knows that. It’s why his grip on your thigh is firmer than usual, his speed a little reckless to get you out of the car that’s heated, but still too cold. Metal that bites your skin and glass that still radiates a chill when your skin gets too close to it. Which that means you can just talk to Ben, and pretend there’s not cracks on your skull that open up a little more when you’re frozen.

“MM said he’ll be there early as well,” you hum, playing with Ben’s hand between your own. “He’s heading up to New York to see his daughter tonight, but he wants to make sure his gift gets given.”

Ben grunts. “You know who his is?”

“No, Ben, because it’s a secret-“

“Stupid fucking secret.” He grumbles, glowering at the road. “You’re never going to tell me what your damn surprise was-“

“Not if you keep bringing it up.” You smile at him, dropping your head on his shoulder. “Then it won’t really be a surprise. You’ll be ready for it.”

Ben frowns. “So it’s for me.”

“Obviously.”

“But not your Santa shit.”

You shake your head, biting your lip to stop a wide, stupid grin from overtaking your face. “Not my Santa shit. And don’t ask me who my person is-“

“Don’t have to.” Ben shrugs, parking on the curb outside Butcher’s apartment. “It’s fucking Hughie.”

You only hum. “Well, I guess you’ll have to find out with everyone else in two hours.”

Ben rolls his eyes, climbing out the car and carefully guiding you upstairs with an arm around your shoulders. Ryan’s waiting for you when you knock on the door, dragging you into a hug before you can even really see him.

“Merry Christmas!” Ryan moves to Ben, and you giggle at the low grunt that escapes Ben’s mouth from the force of the hug. “Do you-“

“Brought all the gifts.” Ben says, giving Butcher a curt nod over Ryan’s head. “In the car. I’ll go back down-“

“Nah, Gov. I’ve got it.” Butcher moves to the door, giving you an awkward pat on the shoulder as he passes by. It shoots something sore, but not rotten or painful, through your body, and there’s an edge of something still and quiet over it. It’s like rest, where Butcher had previously be hateful and bloodied, and it’s better than most anything you’ve felt from him before.

Ben and Butcher exchange low words about getting the gifts as Ryan shuffles over to your side, and when Ben starts to feel hot and loud in your chest you clear your throat, raising your brows at them.

“What if you both get them?” You try to hide the slightly amusement in your voice, and you don’t really succeed. “That couldn’t hurt.”

There’s a moment where they both look like they’re going to protest, but MM’s voice calls from somewhere deeper in the apartment, cutting them off. “Both you alpha male motherfuckers better go get the gifts, or you’re not eating my goddamn delicious gingerbread!”

It works. Ben and Butcher shuffle out the door with low grumbles like they’re teenage boys being sent to their room for bad behavior, and you smile down at Ryan, letting him guide you into the kitchen.

MM gives you a mumbled greeting—mostly focused on the food and not letting anyone interrupt his process—as Ryan tugs you over to Butcher’s table, where a large gingerbread house is on display in the center.

“Look!” He gestures proudly, and your smile might consume your face. “Isn’t it cool! Butcher did all the crackers, but I did everything else. And you can eat it. All of it.”

You nod, and pretend to inspect the house like it’s the most important thing you’ve ever seen. It might be. “Did you use-“

“Licorice!” Ryan points to the roof, lined with black licorice. “They’re gutters. It was MM’s idea, he said houses need drainage.”

You shoot MM an amused look over your shoulder. “Drainage?”

“You ever dealt with water damage?”

“No,” you shrug. “But this is the first time I’ve ever owned a house.”

“Fuck, that’s right.” MM frowns. “Ben teaching you all the shit about upkeep-“

You nod, even if it’s not the full truth. Ben will guide you outside to point at the roof and ask you why should we be worried about that, Sunshine, and you’ll offer an answer that’s usually correct, and he’ll tell you how to fix it. But then he fixes it, because you’re not really good at it and he always grumbles that your hands shouldn’t be dirty. If you really want to know he’ll just break whatever was wrong again and let you fix it yourself, but he tends to hover—big and warm around you, muscles flexing and face so ruggedly handsome covered in grease and dirt—and you just end up almost fucking in broad daylight. And it doesn’t really matter, because you love watching Ben do stupid, domestic shit like that. Fixing your house, that you live in and own with him, that he wants to take care of because that’s taking care of you and Ryan.

When Ben and Butcher return, you think that might be why you love the sight of him with three boxes in his arms—Butcher scowling behind him with only one—and a little snow still melting in his hair. It’s so easy and normal and boring, but still Ben. Still full of the wrathful, focused love he’s always had when he dumps the gifts on Butcher’s couch and pulls you into his arms for a deep, heavy kiss that makes your head spin and your knees shake, but now lined with something easier. Something that’s set so deeply in it’s barely noticeable, but that you can feel in yourself as well. Comfort. Real comfort seeped into your heart because there’s no fear it’s going to be taken away. Nothing could ever take this—take Ben—away from you. Nothing could ever even dare to try.

Ryan bounces over to the gifts, sorting through them with a bright-eyed focus and pulling out one that you know is for Ben, and another that you assume is for Butcher. He shuffles up to you wide a wide, nervous expression, his voice soft when he says your name.

“I, um, I did get you something. But it’s at home. I can wait, or tell you now-“

“Do you want to wait or tell me now?” You ask, giving Ryan a soft smile that seems to ease some of his anxiety, because his voice becomes a little more confident.

“Tell you now.”

You nod in encouragement, and Ryan swallows.

“It’s a bush. A butterfly bush. They, um, attract butterflies? And Ben helped me pick it out, and he said we should get the pink one. They’re kind of easy to take care of, I think, but-“

You pull Ryan into a long, firm hug, cutting off his spiraling. “Thank you,” you whisper, and you’ve never really meant it more. “I love it, Ry. Really.”

Ryan seems to believe you, because he squeezes you tighter and grins before moving to Ben, standing tall and silent at your side.

“This is for you,” he passes Ben the larger of the two boxes, and turns to Butcher. “And you.”

They both grunt thanks, and you don’t both to hide your smile as you watch Ben open his. Ryan had come to you with the idea a few weeks ago, and you’d bought it the next day because it was an amazing idea. You’d known that because you know Ben, but if there was any phantom doubt inside you it’s erased when he flares in your body, and you know he’s seen the gift.

“Fucking Christ,” he mutters, and that’s a positive fucking Christ. That’s the one where he thinks what he’s seeing is a little too good, and can’t really believe his eyes. “Ryan, you got this for me?”

Ryan says your name, rolling on his feet as he watches Ben with wide eyes. “Um, she bought it. But it was my idea. Do you like it-“

“I fucking love it.” Ben mutters, and Ryan looks like he might burst with pride. You might burst with pride, because Ben whole existence in your body is just unrestrained, furious joy. His hands are so careful as he pulls out the refurbished Gramophone, glossy and bronze, complete with the stupid horn. You don’t own any vinyl’s right now, but you’ll find some. For the look of child-like joy on Ben’s face, you’ll buy a whole record store. He’s not crying, but there’s a look of softness that’s glazing over his eyes, his voice is a little hoarse, and you know it’s the closest you’ll get right now. “Good work, kid,” he mutters, running a hand over the polished wood. “Really fucking good.”

Ryan nods, shifting slightly on his feet, and you’re about to kick Ben’s shin in a silent reminder when he sets the gift down and opens his arms, pulling Ryan into a hug you’re sure would kill anyone else, but just makes Ryan’s smile wider and whole body relax.

Butcher clears his throat, holding about five Hawaiian shirts in his hands. “I like mine too,” he mutters. “Nice fuckin shirts. Good material-“

Ryan grabs Butcher in an equally rib-breaking hug, and there’s only a brief moment of shock on the man’s face before he returns it. Ben takes the moment to grab his and your gift for Ryan, waiting until Butcher’s released to all but shove them into Ryan’s hands.

“From me,” Ben point to one box, then the other. “From her.”

Ryan nods, dropping onto the couch as he opens Ben’s first. He’s barely halfway through carefully peeling the paper when a third one gets added to the pile, dropped by Butcher.

“Got a few more,” Butcher mutters. “Mostly just some of your mums old shit. Neuman got it with the Vought raids, should be fuckin yours anyway.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Ryan swallows, and when you pull away from Ben to sit at his side, he’s filled with an aching, heavy grief in his lungs, but a little lighter in his heart. And it’ll be like that for a while. But it’s better than even a month ago, and that’s more than enough for you.

Butcher grunts, making a loose nod for Ryan to continue on Ben’s gift, and you don’t have to look up to know Ben’s moved behind the couch. Only a second later his hand on your shoulder as he leans down to kiss the top of your head, and you hold him there as Ryan finally discards all the wrapping paper.

“It’s built for people like us,” Ben explains as Ryan pulls out a brand-new, firm baseball glove. “Had Frenchie make it, so it shouldn’t fucking break or tear like that pussy shit at the school. Got it a few sizes too large, so you can grow into it.”

“Thank, Ben.” Ryan whispers, giving Ben a wide, toothy grin that you feel spark and glow in Ben’s chest. “I love it.”

Ben grunts as Ryan turns to Butcher’s gift, and you lean backwards to give him an amused smile.

Are you abusing Frenchie’s services? First my books, now Ryan’s glove-

I just fucking asked, Ben glares at you, his mouth tugging slightly upwards. Not my fault the pussy said yes.

Okay. You give him a look of fake, overly sweet innocence. Whatever you say, Benjamin, my love.

He rolls his eyes, running his thumb over your knuckles. Brat.

Cunt. You return your attention to Ryan, watching Butcher with wide eyes as he explains how the book in Ryan’s hands was one of Becca’s favorites, and that there hadn’t been a copy in the boxes Neuman turned over. Ryan’s nodding, looking happier and happier by the second, and when he finally turns to the last gift—your gift—you think your nail might be trying to break into your skin. He’ll love the gift. You’re pretty sure he’ll love the gift. You’re usually pretty good at gifts, but you kind of have a cheat-code with Ben, and there’s a slim chance you might have gotten Ryan’s wrong-

Ryan lets out a small gasp when he opens the box, and it sounds good. His excitement looks real. But it might not be. What if it’s not-

Breathe, Sunshine. Ben mutters in your head, squeezing his hand against you. Look at him, he fucking loves it.

He does look like he loves it. Ryan’s holding the Kindle in light hands, his mouth slightly open and his eyes shining as he turns to you.

“I put some books on it already,” you say, leaning around him to turn the device on, trying not to be knocked out by the sheer fucking happiness in Ryan’s body. “And we can buy more. You’re allowed to take it to school, and keep it in your room, but you do still need sleep-”

Ryan sets the kindle carefully on his lap, and pulls you into a long, tight hug. His head buried in your chest, his arms around your waist, his strength obviously controlled enough not to snap you in half.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your shirt. “And I promise I’ll still sleep.”

You huff a small laugh, squeezing him back. “Thank you. Merry Christmas, Ry.”

Everyone else arrives not long after that. You’re not entirely sure why you’d all agreed to do this at Butcher’s, because no one seems to really be benefiting—It’s loud enough that Ryan shuffles off to his room to read, busy enough that Butcher’s always shouting at someone not to touch something, and crowded enough that you’re all a little on top of each other—but you’re all here, and that’s what matters. You’re curled into Ben’s lap on one side of the couch, Hughie and Annie on the other sie, Butcher glaring at you all from his chair as Frenchie and Kimiko sit cross legged on the floor. There’s no talk of death or pain or blood, only sharing old stories about previous Christmases—Butcher once had to play baby Jesus in the naivety, and he doesn’t seem to find that half as funny as you do—and talking about the easier parts of work. Frenchie’s missing an eyebrow because of a flamethrower incident. Annie got to yell at someone in Singer’s cabinet last week. Ben broke the printer again.

Again? You grin at him, and he scowls.

It’s a stupid fucking machine, why design something with so many goddamn buttons that doesn’t even work half the time-

Benjamin, how many times have you broken the printer?

There’s a pause, and then, Twelve.

You gape at him slightly, Holy shit, Ben, just let Kimiko print things-

I fucking do, but she can be busy, and I’m not just going to sit on my goddamn ass like a fucking pussy-

You pull him down into a long, soft kiss, opening for him when he presses his tongue on your lower lip, humming when his hands resume their slow patterns on your thighs.

Grumpy. You whisper between your head, and Ben snorts.

Shut the fuck up, Sunshine, you-

“We’re eating in 20,” MM’s voice cuts through the air, and when you pull away from Ben he’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed. “Let’s do the gift shit now, so I can get on the road right after.”

Everyone nods, and slowly makes their way back to Butcher’s table, cluttered with the Secret Santa gifts. You all sort through them, passing each other the bags and boxes tagged with your names and holding onto them until you’ve all sat, gifts in your laps.

“I guess, uh,” Hughie looks around the group, scratching the back of his neck. “We can just go in a circle? MM, do you want to-“

MM grunts an agreement, not waiting any further before he carefully removes the paper from his bag, sets it off the side, and pulls out two paper tickets.

“Children’s science museum.” He reads off of them aloud, looking around the group with a frown before settling on you, and grunting your name.

You shake your head. “No, but that does sound like something I’d do. Are they-“

“For the Boston one,” MM mutters, scanning over the rest of the group. “Annie?”

She nods, a wide smile breaking over her face. “That’s supposed to be the best one on this coast, I thought you could take Janine while you’ve got her for the new year.”

“She’d like that,” MM mutters, giving Annie a grateful nod. “Thanks.”

Butcher clears his throat, making it clear that he’s next, and you realize that—if you keep going in a circle—you’ll be penultimate, and Ben will be going last. Good. It’ll help.

Butcher’s not nearly as careful with his packaging as MM was, tossing the bag’s paper aside without thought and freezing slightly when he sees what’s inside. His glare shoots to Hughie, who’s watching with a slightly red face.

“This you, lad?”

“Uh, no-“

“MM?”

MM shakes his head, and Butcher glowers around the rest of the table. Frenchie and Kimiko seem to take pity on him, shaking their heads and leaving Butcher’s scowl on you and Ben. You give a half-hearted shrug and jerk of your head to Ben, and Butcher scoffs.

“Ain’t no bleedin way it’s the old cunt.” Butcher glares at Ben, who tilts his chin up and tenses at your side. “I don’t believe it-“

“Start believing it, you fucking pussy.” Ben snaps. “Tell her you’re welcome.”

Ben nods to you, and you sigh. If you’re being honest, you’d seen this coming. But you still have to pretend to be annoyed with Ben and act like you’re not completely turned on by the way he’s rubbing your thigh, filled with love and pride, and holding you against him like you’re the most important thing in the world. You have to glare at him, and sell the act that you don’t want to grab his stupid handsome face—glowering at Butcher like he can’t believe the man’s nerve—and kiss him until he groans, pins you to the table, and fucks you stupid.

“What do you mean thank her,” MM looks between you and Ben with a narrowed gaze. “Which one of you got Butcher the gift-“

“I did.” You mumble, giving MM an apologetic grimace. “But it was Ben’s name. He told me though, I didn’t ask, and he doesn’t know mine-“

“What is it?” Hughie leans over Butcher, frowning at the bag. “A dog collar?”

“I found Terror.” You explain, chewing the inside of your cheek until it might bleed. “There should be a card in there as well, with a number. You can call it and get him back, if you want. If not it’s just kind of, uh, a dog collar.”

“Ah.” Butcher looks between the collar, now in his hand, and the bag, his words a little lower than before as he turns back to you, something flashing in his eyes that might be a real, good emotion. “Thanks.”

Everyone seems to forgive Ben for breaking the rules immediately—you don’t think they had a lot of faith in him to begin with, which you’d be angrier about if they hadn’t been so entirely correct—and move on to Hughie, but you whack Ben’s chest, glaring up at him.

What the fuck, Benjamin.

It was a good fucking gift, Sunshine, you deserve the credit-

I didn’t care about the credit, dummy.

Well, I fucking do. Ben presses a kiss on the space between your eyes, right where it’s wrinkled from your glower. They should be thanking you all the damn time.

You wrinkle your nose at him, but smile when his lips move down to your own, the kiss sweet and gentle, letting you sit in the taste of coffee and strawberries in his mouth, drown in the best possible way in Ben, warm and strong and all around you.

When you look back to the group, Hughie’s holding a small, strange device in his hands, having already made his guess and frowning at Frenchie’s explanation.

“Petite Hughie, you are not understanding. You can listen to Billy Joel entire catalogue of music, all on this!”

“So it’s, uh,” Hughie glances down at the device, shoved into his hands. “An iPod?”

“Non, it is a Billy Joel Musical Player.”

“Oh.” Hughie nods slowly, and you and Annie exchange a wide-eyed expression of we can’t laugh. You don’t succeed—breaking out into muffled giggles, Hughie shooting you both glares as he pats Frenchie nervously on the shoulder—but it’s the effort that counts.

After that, with slightly more limited options, it goes a little faster. Butcher got Annie tickets to a pop concert, insisting that she takes photos of Hughie looking awkward and nervous. Frenchie opens his bag to find only a key, and—after guessing Kimiko twice—learns that MM got him a large amount of completely illegal chemicals from questionable sources, only asking that Frenchie try not to murder anyone. Frenchie just shrugs, but before MM can demand a more solid no murder promise, Kimiko is ripping into her own bag, pulling out two Broadway tickets, and pointing to you with a wide smile. When you shake your head her attention moves to Hughie, who nods and tentatively signs that he tried to have them for Decembruary, but they don’t do singing until Walk, and he’ll pay for their sleeping.

That leaves you and Ben. You raise your brows at Kimiko, having done the math, and she gives you a bright smile, gesturing to the bag in your hand as he signs. Open it!

You nod, and find a disgusting wad of cash and sheet of paper with I promise I can cover written out in slightly uneven letters, signatures from Kimiko, Frenchie, Annie, and Hughie at the bottom. Ben frowns as he reads it over your shoulder, and when you look up to Kimiko with raised brows, her smile grows.

You and Ben never got a real honeymoon. She gestures, and you feel Ben tense slightly at your side. You think he recognized his name. I didn’t know where you’d want to go, so I just gave you money for it. We’re going to cover you at work, and you can finally do that.

You don’t bother to put the card down when you pull Kimiko into a long, tight hug, basking in the genuine, bright sensation that’s in her hands and teeth when you touch. Affection for just you, and something that’s a little more wired, but still warm, for Ben.

“Thank you,” you whisper in her ear, squeezing her once. “That’s amazing, Kimiko. Thank you so much.”

Kimiko just hugs you back—hard enough to bruise if you could be bruised—and Ben’s hand snakes onto your back, rubbing up your spine with warm, careful hands.

What the fuck is it.

I’ll tell you later. You pull back from Kimiko with one last smile, returning your gaze to Ben with a joy you know he must feel, because it’s too big to be kept in your blood. Open your gift, Ben.

He grunts, glaring around the table, and you know the exact moment it hit him. He sits a little taller, his hand stilling on your body, and something golden bursts and sings in his chest.

You had fucking Hughie.

Did I? You make a dramatic look of fake thought, unable to contain the grin on your face. I thought Frenchie did?

Ben’s eyes narrow on yours. Did you fucking rig it-

Me?! You gape at him, your smile full on idiotic now. Rig something? Benjamin, how dare you even imply-

He snorts, leaning down to pull you into a teasing, too-chaste kiss. Brat.

Cunt. Your reply is a little weak in your head, most of your mind focused on Ben’s hands, opening the box with your gift inside. Ben, wait, I’m going have to explain it-

Ben pulls out the shirt, frowning at the bright words over the graphic of genetic, vanilla ice cream in a cone. “Bassets Ice- Fuck, this place is still open?”

MM frowns. “What place.”

Ben turns the shirt for MM to read, his eyes still on you. “Why the fuck did you get me an ice cream shirt.”

“All dad’s should have weird brand-shirts, Benjamin.” You mumble, leaning a little into his side. “It’s a hallmark. My father had a sriracha shirt.”

MM nods off to the side. “Hasbro.”

“Ford.” Hughie adds, frowning into the air. “My dad didn’t even like cars.”

“See?” You gesture around the table, suddenly slightly nervous he won’t like it. He has to like it. If Ben doesn’t like it, you watched five hours of old Solider Boy interviews—watched Ben not be Ben, wearing that stupid helmet and grinning at the camera in a way you know is fake—for nothing. “And it’s, um, it’s not just the shirt-“

Ben grunts your name in your head, drawing a firm pattern on your thigh. Calm the fuck down. If it’s just a shirt, it’s a damn good shirt-

It’s date! You blurt, grabbing his hand and keeping it pressed on your skin. You said in the 50s that Bassets was your favorite ice cream shop growing up, and you didn’t say it like you said all the other lies, so I thought maybe that it was true and we could go get some ice cream there or something. And then, um, just kind of fuck around? Whatever you want, it’s your date, and it doesn’t have to be ice cream-

Ben, in an act of mercy, wraps an arm fully around your waist and pulls you onto his lap, kissing you long and heavy and deep until you’re slack against him, your arms around his neck and your whole body filled with only Ben’s thunderous love.

It’ll be ice cream, he mutters in your head, squeezing the skin of your hips. And we can always fuck around, Sunshine.

Horny- You swallow down a moan when his hand moves to your ass, only vaguely aware of your friends, now faded into the background. Horny old cunt-

I fucking hope so, darling, I’ve got a perfect wife who needs to be fucked stupid later-

MM clears his throat, and you pull away from Ben with a high, slightly whining gasp. “You two either get a room,” he mutters. “Or stop fucking Frenching each other at the goddamn table. Where we’re about to eat.”

You flush, mumbling an apology as you push off of Ben to go get Ryan, pretending you can’t feel the hot, cocky pride and hunger in Ben’s body that feels like another promise.

Dinner is quick and easy. The rest of the night is quick and easy. MM put together a feast that could probably feed twenty people, but over half the table is made up of supes, so there are only clean plates with no leftovers. MM rolls his eyes, grumbles about being surrounded by a bunch of animals, and leaves for New York with tight hugs and firm nods. From there, it’s all drinks that only send a slight buzz of warmth through your body—Frenchie tells you he spiked yours and Ben’s, the fact that you can feel anything at all likely a sign that he may have just used straight crack—and a game of poker that devolves into threats, cursing and near-injury remarkably fast. You fold quickly, joining Ryan in the corner as he reads, and as the day creeps on into night you’re mostly just happy. Ryan’s slumping slightly at your side, your hand in his hair as you watch Ben call a pale-faced Hughie a pussy-assed lying motherfucker for the fifth time that game, and lose the game for the seventh time tonight.

And it’s easy. Hughie doesn’t flinch at Ben’s words, and Ryan doesn’t cower at the raised voice. He just yawns, eyes drooping slightly, and keeps trying to read when you can feel the daze of sleep creeping over his brain.

You look up at Ben—glowering at Butcher as he deals the next hand—and he must feel your eyes because he turns in barely a moment.

What- Ben’s eyes land on Ryan, his frown deepening slightly, and looks back to you in a silent question you’ll always understand.

I’m okay, but I think I’d like to go home. You mumble between your heads, fighting a yawn of your own. You can finish the game though-

Ben shoots to his feet, and before you even know what’s happening he’s at your side, scooping a completely asleep Ryan up in his arms.

“We’re leaving,” he says to no one in particular, glaring around the room at the scattered gifts and down to Ryan in his arms. “One of you pussies-“

“I’ll get the gifts,” you stand up, blinking away sleepiness from your eyes. “Annie, could you please start the car for us? It’s cold and I don’t want Ryan to wake up-“

Annie nods, grabbing Ben’s keys from the table and pulling Hughie with her out the door. Ben doesn’t fight you as you gather the gifts into one bag, but you can feel him tracking your every move, waiting for you to so much as stumble so he can insist you let him carry everything. But when Hughie returns—saying Annie’s waiting by the car—you’re on steady feet, and every good night is a warm hug, soft joke, and smile. Even Butcher lets you give him a strange, uncoordinated side-hug and nods at Ben with a respect that doesn’t seem forced.

Downstairs, Annie gives you one last hug as Ben loads Ryan into the car, and the night is done. The drive home is short, Ben not helping your bid to remain awake by rubbing your thigh and humming something that you think is supposed to be a lullaby, low and off-key. He’s a little faster than you are, somehow getting Ryan and the gifts, opening the door, and refusing to walk upstairs until you’re clinging to his arm.

Get in bed, Sunshine, he mutters, kissing the top of your head outside your room. I’ll be there soon.

You nod, shuffling through the door and not bothering with the dresser. You shed your clothing like they’re poison on your skin, pull on one of Ben’s shirts—cast thoughtlessly onto the bed—and crawl between the sheets to wait for him to return, wallowing in the smell of pine until he does.

He frowns when he sees you, his words low and stern. “You need to fucking sleep, darling-“

“No.” You shake your head, reaching for him a little pathetically. “Need you. More gifts.”

Ben shakes his head, pulling off his shirt as he joins you, a slight smirk on his stupid, handsome, amazing face. “You need me,” he drawls your name, and your thighs squeeze together slightly. “You have more perfect shit to give me-“

“Shut up,” you wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest. Maybe I do have more shit to give you-

“Good. I have more shit to give you,” Ben mutters, tugging lightly on your hair until you meet his gaze. “And I’m first.”

You’re too tired to argue, so you let Ben shift you fully over his body, twisting your head to watch him reach into his bedside drawer and pull out two tickets.

“Everyone’s getting tickets,” you mumble, letting Ben pass them into your hands. “Are we going to see Frozen off Broadway?”

He frowns. “I don’t know what the fuck a Frozen is. These are for the opera.”

You blink at him, unsure if you heard correctly, and when you speak your voice is small. “The opera?”

Ben grunts an affirmation. “The internet said this one has cannons. And after they’re going to let us have the whole place, and you can sing, or we can dance or just fuck, but we’re not allowed to break shit or they’ll sue us.”

You want to kiss him. You want to pull his tongue into your mouth until he can’t ever stop tasting you, and let him push himself inside you until you’re melded together for the rest of time. But if you start that now you’ll never give him your gift, and it suddenly feels incredibly critical Ben sees your gift now.

“Do you want to know what my secret was?” You whisper, and something sparks in Ben’s chest.

“So it was a fucking secret-“

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Do you want to know or not, Benjamin-“

“Know.” He grumbles. “What the fuck was it-“

“Open my drawer.” You nod lazily to your bedside table, a little too drunk on Ben to move. “Please.”

He snorts, shaking his head, and any grumble of never having to fucking ask him please dies when he opens the drawer and sees what’s inside.

“How the fuck…” Ben trails off, and you’ve never been more grateful for being able to sense his emotions than you are now. He’s reduced to silence because his love has turned to a roar in his body, and his head seems a little light from the raw joy and confusion clouding his skull.

“I got some old government files,” your voice is soft, scanning over Ben’s slack expression carefully. “Found your childhood home. Then I, um, I visited it and asked what they did with the old owners possessions. They said the government took a lot of it, so I made Neuman tell me where they were stored. I was, I was going through all the boxes, and I found that. And I’m just, I think I’m ready. Soon. When you are.”

Ben’s love becomes almost primal in your chest, but he still doesn’t look away from the baby blanket. His old baby blanket. Pastel green and soft, somehow not moth-ridden and unraveling, so small in Ben’s massive hand.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “You’re sure.”

You nod, swallowing slightly. “I’m sure. I’ve been sure.” You trail your fingers over Ben’s beard, offering him a small smile when his attention returns. “I’m always sure of you, my love.”

That seems to be enough for Ben. He sets the blanket down with heartbreaking gentleness, and brings his lips to yours in a painfully loving and devout kiss. He doesn’t deepen it—even as his hunger becomes primal—only rubbing patterns on the back of your thighs and grinning against your mouth.

“If Ryan wasn’t asleep down the hall,” he growls into your mouth, igniting a heat in your lower gut. “We’d get started right fucking now. But,” he pulls your upper lip between his teeth, smirking at your soft moan. “I waited a hundred goddamn years for this, for you.” Ben says your name like it’s holy, and you can only grind weakly against him. “I can wait a few more nights.”

You nod, pulling away to give him a nervous smile. “So yes?”

“Fucking yes.” He grins, pulling you back into him. This kiss quicker, but filled with more undying heat and need, and it leaves you a little dizzy when he pulls away. “For you, darling, it’s always fucking yes.”

“Oh.” Sleep starts to catch you again, and you begin to sink fully into Ben. Warm and big and strong and Ben. “Good.”

“Damn right,” Ben grumbles, helping you squirm back down his chest. “I fucking love you. I’d have to have lost my goddamn mind to tell you no.”

“I love you too,” you hum, a little too lost in Ben to say much else. “Merry Christmas-“

“I think Christmas is fucking over, beautiful-“

“It’s not midnight,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck. “Take my Merry Christmas, Benjamin.”

Ben chuckles, running a hand through your hair and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Merry Christmas, Sunshine.”'

End Note: Happy Holidays Squad!!! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the pure fluff and smut of this miniseries!! See you soon!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask! (Separate from main taglist)

Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd @ej13928

@deansbbyx @generalmoonpolice

45 notes · View notes

kqutie · 2 days ago

Text

THE PRINCESS' SEVEN MERCENARIES

CHAPTER SIX : THE FOOLISH GENIUS

relations. : cevans various/reader -- steve rogers/reader ; curtis everett/reader ; ari levinson/reader ; lloyd hansen/reader ; andy barber/reader ; jake jensen/reader ; ransom drysdale/reader

chpt. sum. : Ari urges Jake to stay home with you and the team realises you know more than they thought about their own mission.

tags. : snow white and the seven dwarves au ; fairy tale au ; fluff ; domestic fluff ; angst if you squint ; a/b/o universe but it's not the central point ; disney princess reader and her seven sexy mercenaries hehe~ ; jake jensen centric chapter ; jake being a lovable dork again ; world building ; reader proving ; misunderstandings ; confrontation ; everyone feels a little betrayed ; Lloyd gets confrontational ; the truth will soon come out

length. : 7.8k

← five. the smitten charmer | navi. | series masterlist

Steve starts his day the same way, always, before and after you’ve made yourself a place in their lives. Each morning, he wakes up early, makes himself a cup of coffee and reads the paper while sipping at his morning joe — it’s the only time he can feel an ounce of normalcy and savours every peaceful second. Ever since you’ve willed yourself to prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner for him and his team, Steve has been there to see your efforts from the table. Sometimes it’s hard watching you milling about the kitchen from over his morning paper and the lip of his mug but it was also very heartwarming, knowing that he and his team were being taken care of for once. You dance about the area as if you’ve always lived there, and as if it’s completely natural for you to cook such a large breakfast each morning. The first day, you were happy to express your love for cooking if only to comfort his self-reproach.

“I love cooking and your kitchen is so beautiful; it’s a joy to cook in it!” Steve remembers your upturned lips and smiling eyes vividly, “I’ve always been familiar with kitchens, and I love to cook because it's such a comfort for me; please don’t look so troubled,” your soft words eased his nerves effortlessly, a rare occurrence for the Captain. Usually, he was kept highly strung from the responsibilities of keeping his teammates safe and their missions on track. Your calming presence was something he dared not complain about. Even your delicately hummed tunes were appreciated. Steve can’t remember the last time he’s had such a calm morning. For the first time in a long time, he was allowed to sip on a delicious cup of coffee and read his paper in peaceful silence without having to remain alert for when he urgently needed to rush somewhere with his men.

Judging by how you’re still preparing the breakfast ingredients, Steve expects he still has plenty of time before the rest of the men wake up and make their way downstairs; he plans on savouring every second of it. But he was mistaken at the sound of footsteps walking down the first-floor hallway and eventually down the stairs. From the general area where the footsteps originate, Steve reckons it’ll be Ransom.

The captain was soon proven right when his charming mercenary teammate emerged from the stairway and made a beeline straight for you. Steve smiles into his mug as he watches your morning exchange.

“Good morning, sweets,” Ransom softly whispers into your hair as he pulls you close by the waist. You happily return his embrace and kindly offer him a cup of coffee but Ransom declines with a shake of his head, “I’ll help you with breakfast,”

“Oh Ran, that’s so kind of you,” the merc glows at your praise and leans into your touch when you reach up to comb your fingers through his sleep-mused hair. Steve raises a brow. Peculiar. Ransom barely leaves his room without making sure he looks a little presentable, he’s particular like that. The only other person with a similar habit was Lloyd, however, the assassin was much more diligent. It was peculiar that Ransom, someone who often obsessed over his appearance, was coming to you with his hair barely combed, face unclean and still in his wrinkled pyjamas. The fact that he offered to help you prepare breakfast was even more astounding.

“So…may I?” Ransom asks against the skin of your knuckles after bringing your small hand down from his hair to kiss.

“I’d really appreciate that, thank you!” you chirp happily and Steve fondly watches as his Beta makes himself useful in an environment he doesn’t usually associate himself with. It was amusing to see him trailing behind you and obediently complying to your instructions, a similar image to the night before but Steve still can’t believe his eyes. The captain doesn’t know what you’ve done but he appreciates the positive change it’s had on the usually arrogant Beta.

With Ransom’s help, you were already setting up the table long before the others came down for breakfast and joined Steve in appreciating a mug of coffee while sat together. Today’s morning spread was an assortment of freshly cut fruits, buttered toast with a side of jams, egg, ham and cheese breakfast muffins, crispy bacon, tomato and cream cheese bagels, and coffee and tea. Everyone was free to assemble their own plates for breakfast and you were open to any suggestions they may have for future spreads. You liked offering a consistent breakfast but also enjoyed switching some items every now and then, today you added the egg, ham and cheese breakfast muffins. Steve thought they smelled amazing and eagerly awaited the others’ arrival so he could finally have a piece.

“I’ve been meaning to ask but are your newspapers tele-delivered, Steve?” you ask after placing the teapot at the table for everyone’s reach. You make a mental note of knitting a tea cosy for it later.

“Yes, it makes life much easier,” he answers, careful not to show his shock at your casual question. There’s a rumbling of footfalls travelling down the staircase and he finally sets aside his paper. He prepares to finally eat with everyone despite his distracted mind.

You greet everyone a good morning as they take their usual seats before returning to your conversation with Steve, “It really is convenient. And I appreciate that you have groceries tele-delivered straight to your cool storage too. Magic is so helpful, it’s as if you never run out,” you giggle and smile at Jake who eagerly starts chatting about the magi-tech such conveniences require. You speak of the technology with Jake easily, adding to the tech genius’ excitement more. Jake has never had anyone other than Ari to speak to about his tech before and even Ari doesn’t indulge him as much as you do. Even now, the breaded man smirks at the way Jake interacts with you – he’s happy their Beta finally has someone to talk extensively with; he’s always felt quite guilty for not accommodating his comrade’s interests more in the past.

You converse with Jake easily on the topic and even bring up magi-tech knowledge that the average person typically doesn’t know about. It was all well and good but it was very… suspicious.

Andy makes eye contact with Steve as they reach for a breakfast muffin together. In their periphery, everyone else seems to have picked up on the notion too. There’s a touch of conjecture in everyone’s eyes except Jake’s, who happily kept rambling on with you. Curtis is as stoic as ever despite his inner turmoil and Ari hardens his features. Only Ransom seems to be in denial and conflicted at the implications of your knowledge. He remembers your level of expertise the day before and struggles with himself as the rest of the team silently continues eating.

You shouldn’t know about topics like this. Tele-delivery is a privilege exclusive to noble families and highly decorated merchants who sell the service.

Steve doesn’t want to be suspicious of you but you weren’t giving him much of a choice. You look like an ordinary girl, although much lovelier and sweeter than the ones he’s met so far, that didn’t mean you came from a noble or merchant family, right? Women born to those families are usually married off by your age… but how old were you? Slowly, Steve was beginning to realise just how little they know of you and it seems everyone was coming to the same realisation also.

Looking about the table, there’s a silent agreement that this topic not be brought up in front of you to keep you blissfully unaware. Steve doesn’t want to believe you’re an unsavoury character, nobody else does but they’re all conflicted. If you were going to harm them, you would have already done so by now, you’ve had plenty of chances already. You could have attacked them in their sleep or one by one when Curtis was escorting you and while Ransom was home alone with you the day before.

“Jake, why don’t you stay home today?” Ari cuts in, catching everyone’s attention and Steve’s alarmed stare. Ari will always be a deviating factor. He’s a team player but when it comes to the topic of you, he’s shown clear favouritism and a determination to keep you close. Although this was going against their plans the night before, Steve still trusts Ari. He needs to trust Ari. They’ve all been together for several years now and the trust they have for each other is impossible to break. Steve has never been led astray by trusting in his comrades’ intuition so, despite the growing suspicions surrounding you, he doesn’t protest and succumbs to observing what may happen.

What was Ari planning?

“Me? How come?” Jake asks, oblivious to what had just transpired within the team. Instinctively, he meets eyes with Steve, their Captain, asking for silent approval of the change. Steve gives an accepting nod.

“I need you to feedback on information from your library of books,” Jake immediately lights up and nods so eagerly that his teammates worried his head would detach from his neck.

“Oh! Sure! That’s a really good plan, Ari,” the broad-shouldered alpha smiles beneath his heavy beard, always an appreciator of his Beta’s laid-back approach. He claps the tech genius on the shoulder and shares a meaningful look with him, both already understanding their plans.

“I’ll be counting on you then,”

“What’s this about, Ari?” Steve searches the lumbering man’s eyes for a clue but is met with a soft, relaxed assurance translated into a lazy stare.

“Jake has an extensive library on magi-tech and artefacts that would be useful to have while I’m in the field. It��ll be easy to narrow down our search if he has access to the info here. Maybe we can find what we’re looking for much quicker if we do,”

After a long pause, Steve nods, “Very well, if you believe that’s what’s best,” Ari grins but doesn’t escape Steve’s suddenly sharp, narrowed eyes, “I’m trusting you, Ari,”

“Of course, Captain,” Ari nods, voice firm and expression suddenly more serious. That was confirmation enough for Steve to ignore Lloyd’s grumblings. It also seemed to be the perfect assurance for Curtis and Ransom, who had, undoubtedly, become entranced by you from the time you’ve spent together.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

As always, Steve is the first out with his packed lunch and you deliver his kiss on the cheek as sweetly as ever. In that brief moment, Steve allows himself to forget his suspicions of you, reasoning that acting normal was the best step forward to keep you oblivious to their growing wariness. It was worrying, however, how little he cared for the deep affection he was fostering for you.

“Have a good day, Steve. Please stay safe,” You’re too irresistibly precious that, although Steve knows it’s in his best interest to maintain his guard, he’s desperately hoping that you aren’t guilty of willfully deceiving them.

“And you as well,” the captain utters ever so softly, only for you to hear. His soft blue eyes linger on you for a moment before briefly glancing back at his team’s tech genius. “Look after Jake while we’re gone, okay?”

With a giggle, you nod, “Aye-Aye Captain!” it was a playful saying but you made it look and sound so adorable. You even teasingly saluted him. It wasn’t Steve’s fault that he couldn’t resist kissing your forehead as he left through the door.

Next up was Andy, who’s grown the habit of kissing your knuckles first before leaning in to savour his kiss on the cheek. “Take care, Andy,”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” there’s an emotion that flashes in the neat man’s azure eyes, one that you can’t quite place as he allows his stare to delicately float over you. He regrettably ignores your adorable and curious head tilt to finally head out whilst adjusting his cuffs. Try as he might, Andy can’t feel anything suspicious about you. In his many interrogations of guilty targets, he has never seen such incorrupt eyes. You have secrets but that didn’t mean you meant them any harm – that was his conclusion.

Ransom is the third up, pushing past Curtis, Ari and Lloyd, leaving the latter openly grumbling to himself whilst glaring at the group’s machiavellian Beta. Rather than lean down for a kiss, Ransom holds your face in both of his hands and searches your innocuously bewildered expression.

“Ran–?” you voice but he presses your cheeks together, puffing out your lips in a way that makes your spoken words incoherent. His eyes are narrowed into a judging expression but there’s no malice in his stare. In all of his work as the group’s covert agent, he’s never been more perplexed by a person. You’re too unguarded and virtuous to deal any real harm to them and he can tell you don’t have ill intentions just by the look in your eyes so…why does the mystery surrounding your identity irk him so much?

“Sorry…” Ransom frivolously bats away the grumbling complaints of his teammates as they grow impatient behind him. You’ve brought your hands up to hold onto his wrists as he slowly eases the pressure mushing your cheeks together.

“I’ll see you soon, Ran, please be safe,”

No…There’s no way you’re dangerous — not when you’re smiling up at him like that.

Ransom is tempted to kiss your sweet lips but refrains at the last moment, your lips brushing against each other as he swiftly moves to kiss your cheek instead. He silently leaves your flustered state with a hidden smirk. Aghast by the display, Ari rushes forward and guides your eyes to meet his by tilting your chin up with his fingers.

“You’re not kissing him before me, are you, beautiful girl?” Ari almost growls in annoyance. He loves his teammates but he’s grown a slight possessiveness over you and the idea of being the first to embrace your pretty lips. It’s unhealthy, he knows it, especially when he’s been aiming to form an official pack so he forces himself to calm down. He controls his breathing and tempers his gaze but keeps your chin tilted toward him.

“Don’t be silly Ari…” you look to the side in embarrassment, “everyone gets a kiss,” the implications of your innocent words aren’t lost on him and, although his mind starts racing with flashing images, Ari chuckles lightheartedly at the prospect.

“You’re always so fair, darlin’...” he begins to lean down and aims straight for your lip as his words become a whisper, “I love that so much about you,”

“Oi!” Ari gets shoved aside just as his lips brush against yours but is too slow in securing the embrace. In his place, Lloyd stands, huffing and puffing.

“This isn’t some fairy tale princess kissing her prince type shit. We need to fuck off to work so stop holding up the line!” Lloyd glares as Ari simply laughs at him, not a trace of annoyance on his features despite the rude interruption.

“Lloyd–” Your sweet call of his name immediately steals Lloyd’s attention and everyone watches his figure bend down to accommodate your short height. He does it too quickly to backtrack from remembering breakfast and the uncertainty surrounding your character. He didn’t plan on accepting your kiss but now he had no choice; his body had him doing the opposite.

“Gimme my kiss then, I don’t have all day,” with a smile, thoroughly enjoying the grumpy man’s crabby facade, you rise to your toes and kiss him on the cheek. You know he wants to pull away quickly but you trap him by holding his cheek in place. Somehow, you wanted to affectionately dote on this grumpy man and it amused you to see his reactions each time — his ears always become such a bright pink. “H-hurry up, woman! I don’t have all day for this!” you smile into his cheek and prolong it a little more before finally pulling away.

As Lloyd grouches to himself with your lunchbox tightly clutched in his hand, Ari tries to make his way back to you for another kiss on the cheek. The bearded man is already puckering his lips in a mock kiss, clearly trying to push Lloyd’s buttons and succeeds when he barely makes it to you thanks to Lloyd yanking him away by the collar. Ari laughs and teases Lloyd as you giggle at the display.

Curtis silently comes up to you while distracted and hugs your waist so that when he stands to his full height, he lifts you with him. Smiling down at the mercenary, you hug him around the shoulders and allow him to press his face into your neck where he’s reminded of your intimate moment at the village square and savours the calming effects your fragrance has on him.

“Please take care, Curt,” you whisper into his ear and he grunts, stoic as ever when you pull away. You take a moment to caress his cheek with your hand and look into his steel-grey eyes before sweetly kissing his cheek. You then kiss his forehead and utter your wishes (“I hope you have a good day,”) against his skin.

“We’ll be home soon…” Curtis utters gently in his rough voice after finally setting you down. He walks out to join the rest of the mercenaries and you wave at them with a bright smile as they leave. You don’t stop waving until they can no longer be seen through the trees. When you finally turn back into the cottage, however, you’re met with Jake, who has his arms wide open for you to run into if you please.

“E-even though I’m not going out today…Can I still get a kiss too? Please?” he asks with a pout but grins brightly when you nod and run over to fall into his arms. Easily, you press a kiss to his cheek and move to pull away when— “Can I have another one?” he wasn’t satisfied with just one cheek being kissed and, thankfully, you were willing to appease him. “Can I get two more?” you give him a look but when he utters the magic word ‘please’, you can’t possibly say no. “A-and just one more?--”

“Oh Jake!” he giggles freely and mischievously, relishing in the idea that he’s the first person to see you so adorably faux-frustrated. You give him one final kiss anyway and leave him feeling like he’s walking on air. Never before had such a beautiful lady indulged in his antics the way you did. There’s no animosity coming from you, only acceptance and affection.

Life can’t get better than this~

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Jake had a self-collated library all about magic, artefacts and modern tech in his room. It was a personal collection he was rather proud of and eager to finally store on physical shelves and admire freely. He always felt rather pleased with himself when he looked upon the collection, many of his editions were special, annotated with auxiliary details by the original authors themselves. He’s even personally written several of the observation journals within the collection. They were never officially published and purely stemmed from his interests. So proud he was of his collection that he couldn’t resist bringing down the books to show you. He would have happily brought down more but limited himself only to the relevant material needed for his coordinated search with Ari. He’s confident you’ll be able to keep up with his musings the same way you did during breakfast.

He’s so excited!

Getting to talk to such a beautiful and intelligent lady with a honey-esque voice and kind warmth was heaven on earth for a loser Beta like him. Jake knows that, compared to his other teammates, he barely stacks up but you treat him fairly and with the same sweetness. He never feels left out around you. In his eyes, you glow like the sun. Even more so now that he knows you’re just as interested in magi-tech as him. Have the gods made a more perfect woman than you?...

You promised to look over his books with him after you cleaned up the kitchen and did some of the laundry, which was perfect considering Ari was on call with him that morning. Jake expertly coordinated the search with the lumbering man who took on-site images of any potential artefacts and swiftly copied any paper trails that could prove useful to their mission. Thanks to Ari’s suggestion that Jake stay home for the day, it was much easier to reference certain aspects of the artefacts they were looking for and focus their search efforts.

The morning was a fruitful and busy one. As the grandfather clock’s face gradually reached noon, Ari called off the search and promised to feedback to Jake when he finally returned to base and had lunch to refuel him. Jake was then reminded of his carefully prepared lunch and the growling of his stomach. He finds it far too easy to get caught up in their operations, especially when it concerns a topic he was so passionate about.

“Don’t worry about me and eat your lunch, Jake,” you assure, stepping into the kitchen with your apron on, “I’ll make something simple but yummy for my lunch today and I’ll join you in a bit,”

“Okay,” Jake concedes, no longer feeling as guilty for starting his lunch first but still expecting a call from Ari —if not during lunch then after. While your back is turned, he goofily smiles at the note you had written and suppresses the urge to fall back and kick his legs in the air. "Just a small reminder: you make the world a better place."

Despite the wariness fostered by your seemingly innocuous exchange with Jake that morning, the mercenaries still made the time to regroup at their city-centre base to eat your lunch together. It’s become a silent ritual now. Nobody spoke a word in a collective attempt to evade their propagating scepticism of you. For now, all they wanted to do was guiltlessly savour your palatable cooking again, maybe even for the last time – that was a thought they all shared but one that didn’t comfort them, not even Lloyd, who silently opened his boxed lunch first.

“I hope this lunch helps you conquer your day…” Lloyd mutters to himself. Rather than store away your note as he had always done, he crumples it in his hand, motivated by the lingering bitterness of unwarranted betrayal in his chest. Nothing about you is confirmed but that didn’t mean your words and actions weren’t dubious – Lloyd knew he shouldn’t have allowed himself to get soft like this, that was his mistake. He beats himself up mentally for being unable to resist you that morning and dreads the notion that it may be too late for him despite his denials. The merc no longer felt hungry but ate your lovingly prepared lunch anyway. It would be a waste otherwise.

“A tasty pick-me-up for my favourite person,” Ransom smiles down at your sweet note and carefully savours his lunch. He doesn’t want to be stubborn about you, he knows that you’re a good person; his doubts can’t be easily shaken now.

“Today’s special ingredient: all my love,” Ari bites down on his lower lip hard. The squeal of joy he was tempted to let out at that moment would be too embarrassing, especially for an over 6-foot, heavily bearded alpha like him. He eagerly digs into his lunch and happily awaits his call with Jake. Maybe if he hurries, he can put in his call for feedback before the mid-day debrief and everyone leaves to resume their missions.

Andy enjoys reading his notes from you in his head, only whispering it to himself aloud when he reads it the first time. He likes to read your note a few more times before finally relenting to his aching stomach, “Every bite is proof of how much I care,” It’s hard not to smile while eating your delicious food. It tastes better when he ignores all the sour uncertainties about you.

Curtis rarely smiles but the mercs are treated to his rare, chaste grins every time he reads your lunch note. The stoic guard resists the urge to look up and face his smiling teammates whenever he does — he cares deeply for you but you getting him to smile is quite flustering, "Lunch made with love for someone who’s truly special." Curtis doesn’t believe he will ever grow accustomed to your sweet gestures but he doesn’t mind.

Steve tries to ignore your note this time, knowing that it’ll make him smile and his heart flood with warmth. He knows that he must avoid your affection at all costs, he needs to remain the most level-headed amongst his team. However, just as he’s finishing up his last few bites, the guilt has already weighed down his stomach significantly and he can’t resist reading your elegant handwritten note for the day, "I thought of you while making this—hopefully it’s as wonderful as you are!" Steve would be a monster if he didn’t smile at your sweet words and, thankfully, he isn’t one.

In his periphery, Ari sees the team diligently packing up their lunches to sit around the main table with Steve. Their mid-day debrief was drawing near and he rushed to call Jake. He turns his voice up to be heard aloud by everyone else.

Lunch finished later than usual for you but quickly got back to sewing beside Jake as soon as possible. While you sew, Jake takes diligent notes on a spare pad of paper, drawing from the open books piled up around him. His gaze remains focused, silent and studious, it was a side you rarely saw in the goofy, excitable Beta but was one you appreciated seeing in him. Smiling to yourself, you return your attention to your sewing just as Jake’s small shell-shaped magi-tech device rings atop the coffee table. He reaches out to answer it and Ari’s voice filters into the empty air.

“Afternoon Ari! How’s work?” Jake begins with an unfaltering grin.

“Afternoon Jake, it’s all good,” Ari happily greets over the specialised device, “How’s the weather at the cottage?” Report on current affairs.

“We have some clouds,” There’s company who can hear. The mercenaries tense up knowing that you’re near enough to pick up on their conversation. Ari and Jake will have to keep their dialogue highly censored so as not to reveal anything. Andy can easily hop on the call and take over as he was the better speaker but only Ari and Jake had adequate knowledge of the magical artefacts so they were better suited to conversing.

“I see, it’s been cloudy here too,” Everyone can hear. “At least there’s no rain,” the two lightly chuckle, “Did you get a chance to water the peonies as I asked?” Speak cautiously.

“Not yet, but I will in a bit,” Jake carefully eyes you in his periphery and almost sags in relief when you’re too engrossed with mending Steve’s torn-up shirt. “The peonies will be watered generously but I could never do a better job than you,” It’s safe. I’ll keep you informed. Hearing Jake’s assurance, the mercenaries relax ever so slightly. Due to their limited codes, it’s hard to pinpoint how safe it was to speak openly but they trust their Beta. They’ve all survived off of their trust in each other, if Jake says it’s safe, then it’s safe.

“Just don’t overdo it,” Ari replies, slightly worried for his carefully grown peonies. To ensure you don’t grow suspicious, Jake will have to water his peonies at the front of the cottage later on but their tech genius doesn’t have the greenest of thumbs — whatever, this was for the team. He can always grow more peonies but he can’t sabotage everyone’s final mission to secure retirement.

After some time passes, Jake suddenly groans in frustration and momentarily distracts you from the sewing, “⏤Replicas have been made and it’s making things very difficult,” your attention is immediately stolen, quickly prompting Jake to snap his head towards you and smile with his teeth.

“Sorry about that, princess. I didn’t mean to worry you, just a little stressed out about work,” Jake apologises, making it obvious to the rest of the team that you were actively listening now and they silently thanked him for it. Especially Ari; the alpha didn’t want his pack to turn their backs on you, not when they’ve barely given you a chance. You may still be a total mystery but that didn’t eliminate the knowing feeling in his chest and the instinctual pull he had towards you.

“Replicas?” you ask before you can stop yourself. At the slightly uncomfortable look on Jake’s face, you bite your lip guiltily, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop like that.”

“It’s alright,” Jake rubs the back of his head bashfully. “H-How much did you hear?”

“Only the end bit, about the replicas. Are you doing some sort of investigation on replica artefacts and tech?” you ask with an adorable head tilt that made Jake’s heart pound like crazy.

“I-I guess you could say that,”

“Wow, that sounds very important. You must work on a lot of forgery cases from all the notes you’ve made,” you nod towards his tireless notations and heavy books.

“Haha! Guilty. The winner deserves a prize~” he teases to which you playfully bat at his shoulder. You’re smiling as if you’re not bothered at all by that deduction so he runs with it and makes sure the team is well-informed of this: follow along. Jake has to remind himself to school his features first. He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes normally anymore. He felt like an utter criminal for lying to your face like this. So he focuses his attention back on his messy array of notes and books.

“What artefacts or tech are you looking into? Maybe I can help?” From breakfast, Jake can tell you have an expansive knowledge of magi-tech and artefacts. He knows he should think the decision over more but his words are spilling past his lips before he can think to stop himself.

“That would be great! Thanks!” Jake’s brow suddenly becomes sweaty as he reaches for a worn book with aged pages left open at a particular spread. The movement draws your eyes to the illustration displayed on the two-page spread.

“Oh…” Jake raises a brow at your shocked expression, “For such an ancient artefact to have replicas is astounding…” you utter to yourself, loud enough for your voice to reach Ari and the rest of the team, who were anxiously listening in on you and Jake. They opted for staying quiet so that you divulge as much information as possible. Knowledge is power, no matter the source.

“You know this artefact?”

“It has such a rich history, I’m surprised not many more people know of it,”

Jake chuckles in slight embarrassment, “I only have these old artefacts books on it. And modern tech books aren’t much help; I left those upstairs,”

“It’s alright,” you assure with kind understanding, “It’s one of the oldest artefacts but back then information on it was scarce since the owners didn’t want to divulge too much,”

“How do you know all this?”

You shrug your shoulders and look away shyly, “You’d be surprised at what kind of information you’ll find on the same thing but from a different genre. History books are better at knowing the origins of these artefacts more than these magic books, they are more for showcasing its mechanisms and specifications,” Jake nods along, leaning towards you ever so slightly.

“That makes sense,”

“It’s a beautiful piece of magical technology, one of the first of its kind – hence the ‘artefact’ classification. And, despite its dark past, it led to a massive turning point in history,” You begin to retell your teachings from the generous staff who had taught you behind the Queen’s back. Ernest and Abigail kept your mind sharp and well-learned from the many books the royal library held. Abraham, the palace mage also helped educate you, specifically on your magic capabilities and especially on this history of magic, artefacts and modern magi-tech. He thought for sure that he would no longer be needed at the palace; with no King to aid in magic and a Queen with no desire to support the true heir, he was ready to pack his bags. However, the Queen regularly appeared before him with questions on magic so he could stay. Grateful for the mercenaries’ generosity in letting you stay, you happily provided Jake with the same teachings of Abraham.

An incredible amount of years ago, many people detested those with magical abilities and for good reason. The ability to control and use magic freely came at a heavy price, soul corruption. Over time, an individual with magical abilities would become selfish, greedy, violent and unloving towards others — the human heart and soul can be easily degraded by magic, but not certain metals and other materials. Once that was learned, powerful sorcerers imbued their magic into ordinary objects which would then become magical artefacts.

Jake eagerly listened, as did his teammates on the connecting side of the magi-tech device they were using.

However, there was a small group of people who didn’t get corrupted by the magic ability they were gifted with. The modern-day royal family are the descendants of those same people. It seemed that these individuals were gifted with a high affinity and tolerance for magic, granting them power to rule over the kingdoms. They proved themselves worthy rulers by creating artefacts that protected an entire city of people. Those same artefacts stand to this day, all located at the central point of each kingdom’s capital. The rulers’ natural talents were never challenged nor their rule, thus starting the monarchy.

However, anomalies with magical power did occur within and outside the royal bloodline. And without an explanation, many wrongdoings were committed.

“Because magical prowess became an exclusive trait to the royal family, those who had magical powers but were not born into royalty were treated poorly and executed. But, if you remember, before the monarchy was ever established, others were also gifted with magical affinities. Now that it’s exclusive only to royals, those who weren’t were punished.” you and Jake shared a sad look, “The reasoning was so that the magic user doesn’t get corrupted by their magic but it can’t be denied that magic had become such an exclusive privilege of the royal families that pride was also a factor,” Jake shakes his head in disappointment. His love for magic, artefacts and magi-tech made the history you were telling him hard to swallow. He can understand why this wasn’t common knowledge, although…such rich historical books were also hard to come by…

“It also didn’t help that we, as humans, have a bad habit of gossiping about strange events in search of an explanation. The ‘anomaly’ of a ‘commoner’ having magical abilities was so taboo that it warranted execution, especially when rumours began to spread that those high-magic-affinity people were the illegitimate children of the royal family. Nowadays, it’s no longer stigmatised as it’s been extrapolated that some individuals are just more magically inclined than others. But this was only after King Kloros.”

“What about him?”

“King Kloros was found to be infertile later in life when his five-year-old son, Prince Leto, was found to have no magical powers. Usually, royal children display magic as young as a month old but five years is the benchmark. Since Prince Leto wasn’t magically inclined even at five years of age, the King confronted the mirror of Aleth, named after the Sorceress and Queen Alethea who created the mirror to tell only truths when asked a question. It was found that Prince Leto was not his true son at all but was born out of his Queen consort’s affair. Outraged, King Kloros banished his Queen Consort, he could no longer look into Queen Consort Anwir’s eyes. To the surprise of many, he kept Prince Leto as his heir; he had grown to see the boy as his true son already. He also knew wouldn’t be able to have a son of his own anyway but wanted an heir regardless. Years later, however, Prince Leto, at 7 years of age, developed magical abilities regardless of his heritage and that was when King Kloros decided to banish prejudice against all magic users, vowing to find ways to prevent his son from being corrupted by the magic. It was found that as long as magic users practised the flow of magic within them and released them into objects regularly, they were less likely to be corrupted, which is why most sorcerers help create magi-tech products or participate in healing the sick,”

“Thank goodness for that,” Jake voiced playfully after thanking you and you both giggled. With scrutiny, Jake focused on the ancient pages showcasing the Mirror of Aleth, “But I do wonder… why don’t more people know about the mirror despite its influence on King Kloros and, therefore, the world as they knew it,” Jake mumbles to himself.

“It’s probably because it only did one thing. Yes, it generated a huge wave of influence but that ‘huge wave’ completely masked its original impact.” Jake nods beside you, “I also read somewhere that it only responded to true descendants, as in, the royal family so it’s been kept securely at the Okisha Kingdom’s Palace vault. As honourable people, they like the use the artefact’s abilities sparingly — they understand how damaging it is to know all truths, hence why Queen Alethea made sure the mirror only responded to descendants of the royal family,” All mercenaries tensed at the mention of their client but only for a millisecond; you were only reciting your knowledge. The intel they were given by the Okisha Kingdom’s mage was very lacking compared to your intelligence. However, that only made them more curious and cautious of you.

You move to continue your sewing but Jake, hypnotised by your voice and knowledgable insight, hurries to keep you talking, “Would you know how to identify the real one from a replica?”

His words make you think in silence as all of the listening men await your words with bated breath. Steve, Andy, Jake and Ari anticipate what your valuable intelligence may provide them in their mission, preferring to disregard their suspicions for the time being. Curtis and Ransom look at each other momentarily and keep their ears perked as well. Lloyd, however, tries to tune out your voice as much as possible; he feels a pang of sickening betrayal every time you innocently add to their suspicions because how could you possibly know all this bullshit?!

“I would first consider why replicas are being made — potentially to throw off whoever’s wanting to snatch the original, a decoy perhaps?” that’s a line of thinking you would rather return to at a later time for its many possibilities, “And then I would think about what the most telling signs would be of a fake…” you gesture to Jake’s open book and politely ask if you could touch it; you only do so after he gives a nod of permission. With that simple but considerate gesture, Jake thinks you’re even more of an angel now — he’s head over heels! He doesn’t allow just anyone to touch his prized possessions lightly but he trusts your delicate hands. “Notice how the mirror is made of only precious materials?” Jake nods eagerly, ecstatic to know you were just as vigilant as him in that observation. He hopes you can give him some sort of explanation as to why that is; he has his personal theories but they’re only that, theories. Another’s insight, especially from one who’s as knowledgable as you is very valuable. “Do you know why most ancient artefacts are only made with precious metals?”

“Not a clue,”

“It’s because magic can corrode materials as much as it can a person’s heart and soul. Precious metals are precious because they corrode very very very slowly, to the point that it’s barely noticeable. Nowadays, all magi-tech products only need to be installed with imbued magic crystals to work,” Jake has a eureka moment in his head and restrains himself from jumping on you with a scream of joy. That’s a better explanation than anything he’s come up with before. And is one he can use when training or creating his own magi-tech devices after his retirement with the boys.

“That’s amazing! All we have to do is see if the materials are made of precious metals or not!”

“Exactly!”

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Jake and Ari were able to make progress with their specific mission thanks to your precious intel. Ari stiffly worded his gratitude over the device and swiftly ended the call, leaving Jake to bite at his already short nails. Unphased, you returned to sewing Steve’s shirt. Glancing at the grandfather clock, it was still early afternoon so keep with your sewing but regularly glance at the clockface so that you don’t start on dinner too late. While you did that, Jake was drowning Ari’s peonies from anxiety. The tech genius can only imagine what his team would do as soon as they arrived home for dinner that night. He tends to lose track of many things when magic, artefacts and magi-tech are involved so he could hardly restrain himself when you talked overtly about the ancient artefact with Ari and the boys on the other end. As you revealed everything you knew to him, you also revealed it all to his teammates. It’s safe to say that he was expecting the worst-ever reaction from them.

He’ll protect you with his life! Even against his own! He loved the team but he’s never felt such a strong connection to someone else before. You’re the first lady to ever turn his way without a judgemental look in your eyes; you’re not dissuaded by his dorkiness and zealous interest in magic, you lean into it and happily discuss the topic with him. You’re a rare jewel he would rather sacrifice his life for than ever part with.

Jake slowly loses himself in thoughts of you and your wonderfulness. He was just beginning to smile goofily when he was subtly alerted by a breach in the barrier. They were home early! Rushing inside, Jake beelines it to you.

“Jake?” you ask with a slight tilt of your head as if to say, ‘What’s wrong?’. Jake knows what’s wrong but he’s not going to tell you anything. You stand when Jake keeps striding towards you without a word. You don’t know what to expect but it’s not to be lifted from the ground and into his arms as if you weighed nothing.

“There’s no time, Princess!” Jake turns on his heel and steps towards the back of the house but freezes up when the front door slams open. You gasp and jump ever so slightly in his arms from freight but smile over his shoulder at the sight of the mercenaries arriving in the living room with their shoes still on.

“You’re home early, today,” you beam from over Jake’s shoulder, “how was work? I’m afraid I don’t have dinner ready yet–”

“Quiet!” Steve commands firmly and in a volume that shakes the cottage walls. His eyes are like dull, blue stones, cold and hard as they drill into you. It sends a chill down your spine, “Turn around and put her down, Jake,” Jake turns but doesn’t let you go, only holding you closer.

“Sorry Cap,” Jake apologises without any meaning, “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Ari smiles at the gesture and nods in approval from his place beside Ransom.

“Put. Her. Down. Now!”

“No!”

“Wh-what’s going on?” you whisper, blinking back tears from the frightening visage of Steve. He was always so kind and warm to be around; this is the first time you’ve ever seen him so loud and cold.

“She’s not a bad person, Captain!”

“Then who is she?!” Lloyd barks from Steve’s right, stepping forward to sneer at you with much more animosity than you’re used to. His confrontational step forward makes you reel back and turn away from him in fear, “Tell us your real name!” Your obvious fright makes Lloyd stutter ever so slightly but protecting him and his mismatched pack will always be his top priority, not you.

“I-I have told you my real name!” you defend, wrapping your arms around Jake’s neck and leaning into him for comfort.

“You’re scaring her, Lloyd!” Ransom counters, stepping out of the group to stand closer to you and Jake. Curtis does the same but silently, his tall, broad stature as imposing and dangerous as ever. The two have been able to see your true character in the time they’ve spent with you — even though you have secrets, that doesn’t mean you were untrustworthy; everyone has secrets.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s the thief!” Lloyd points an accusing finger at you.

“She’s not the thief!”

“You don’t know that!”

“And what makes you think you do?!”

“ENOUGH!” Lloyd and Ransom looked ready to shout at each other until the sun rose again if it weren’t for Ari cutting in. “Screaming and arguing with each other isn’t going to sort anything out! Plus our angel isn’t any less frightened!” Ari steps up to stand beside your curled-up form in Jake’s arms. “If she meant any harm, she would have done something by now. She deserves to have a say,” Ari gives a pointed look at Andy who smiles at the bittersweet notion that the heavily bearded alpha chose now to recite his personal philosophy.

Everyone turns to Steve, who contemplates the situation. A long pause draws out for what feels like an eternity before their Captain finally turns to their negotiator.

“Andy?” Steve asks. He truly can see things going two ways. He was ready to kick you out for the betterment of his pack but seeing Jake, Ari, Ransom and Curtis firmly standing at your side made him second-guess himself. Trust in the team. Lloyd was too heated. Andy was the only other level-headed Alpha he could fully rely on.

“...Let her speak for herself, Captain,” Andy can’t shake Ari’s reminder of his personal values. With a bit of work, his teammate could make for a great negotiator, “She deserves to have a say,”

Steve nods and meets your eyes with a hard but warmer stare, “Tell us the truth,”

Not seeing a way out, you nod and bite your lip with some insecurity. “Alright…”

navi. | series masterlist | seven. the lumbering repairman →

a/n : this is a pretty long chapter, primarily because of the world-building lore I wove into it. I hope you enjoyed it and the read. The series is slowly getting more interesting so things will pick up from here. Look forward to future updates hehe~ In the meantime, Happy holidays, my darlings!

If you're interested, here's a little note on the names involved in the lore drop:

Chloe, the name, means 'fertility' and is derived from the Greek name Khlóros - I took the ‘h’ out to sort of take away from that meaning somehow and better fit the infertile king.

Leto, the name, means 'hidden' and has Greek and Latin origins

Alethea, the name, means 'truth' and has Greek roots

Anwir, the name, is Welsh, meaning 'liar'

taglist : @imyourbratzdoll @lovinglimerence @saturdayrj @baw1066 @whereismymindnow @urmomw4ntsme @oneandonlybbygrl

#steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #ari levinson x reader #curtis everett x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #jake jensen x reader #cevans various x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #snow white au #series : tpsm #tpsm series #snow white reader au

47 notes · View notes

loulou-land · 3 days ago

Text

"Mistle-Nope (But Maybe Yes)”

🎄 My bucktommy Christmas fic is here! Story time: I was bored last week at work and scrolling through insta when I came across this post. I immediately thought "Ah yes! that's Bucktommy and Eddie” lol. And so, this story was born 😂 I hope you all enjoy it! I loved writing it (even if I struggled with it at times). 🎄

Gen | 3.1K words | bucktommy | Post-Break Up, Getting Back Together, Crack Treated Seriously, Multi-POV, Mistletoe Shenanigans

read on ao3 or below the cut

This year’s Christmas party was taking place at Bobby and Athena’s new house. They’d wanted to celebrate the start of this new chapter in their lives, and inviting everyone over for Christmas dinner seemed like the perfect time. As a result, they went all out with the decorations. Warm lights draped across every available surface, and a tall tree, decked out in ornaments that looked like they came straight out of a catalog, took over a large part of the living room. A drink station in the room’s corner featured wine, warm apple cider, and hot chocolate. From the kitchen wafted the unmistakable scent of various baked goods–apple pie, red velvet cake, gingerbread and sugar cookies–completely overtaking the orange glazed ham that Bobby had prepared. And sprigs of mistletoe hung above all the doorways.

The 118, along with their partners and children, spread out through the house, and while the general mood was festive, there was a particular sense of tension coming from two of their guests.

Buck stood by the kitchen counter, focusing intently on finishing the decorative touches on the sugar cookies, glancing up now and then surreptitiously across the room. By the drinks station stood Tommy, swirling his wine and staring into his glass as if it held the answers to all his life’s problems.

If anyone asked, Buck was fine. Totally fine. When Bobby had approached him about inviting Tommy to the Christmas party, he’d only hesitated for a moment. He could handle any awkwardness that might arise between them–after all, they’d already crossed paths during a few calls. And despite the hurt Buck sometimes still felt, he didn't want Tommy to spend Christmas alone. If he’d gone a little overboard with the baking at the thought of spending the holiday with the man who’d broken his heart– well that was entirely Buck’s business. Bobby and Athena had gotten a delicious spread of desserts, so they knew not to bring up the subject to him. Although they kept sending concerned glances his way when they thought he wasn't looking.

There was one thing Buck hadn't counted on, however. That was, how overwhelmed he'd feel, suddenly being so much closer to Tommy than he'd had the chance to be in months. He thought he had finally made his peace with the breakup, had stopped wondering why, and had tried to move on. But being here together like this–it only reminded him that what they'd had between them still felt unfinished, lingering like an itch he couldn't scratch.

Unfortunately for Buck, everyone else at the party had noticed too.

———————————————————

“They’re killing me,” Hen muttered from her spot by the fireplace.

“Excruciating,” Chimney agreed, reaching to steal a cookie off the dessert tray atop the coffee table. “Did you see that? Tommy glanced over at Buck four times in the last minute. And Buck’s looked back twice.”

Hen snorted, giving him an incredulous look. “You’re counting their glances?”

Chimney shrugged. “What? I’m a details guy. Also, it’s driving me crazy.”

Hen raised her eyebrow. “You’re the one who absolutely insisted he needed to be invited. How’d you get Bobby to do it anyways?”

“I have my ways,” he said, looking around shiftily. “And, I thought it’d help!” Chimney said defensively. “You know, finally getting them together in one place, no emergencies or other duties as an excuse. I thought they'd finally get to talking.” He shrugged, “Maybe spark some reconciliation. Come on! They belong together.”

“Mhm. And how’s that working out for you?”

Chimney groaned, rubbing his face. “It’s like watching the world’s most bizarre mating dance, they keep fluffing their feathers at each other and then running in the opposite direction”

“You two are ridiculous,” Eddie muttered, finally joining the conversation.

“Oh, we’re ridiculous?” Chimney scoffed. “Eddie, you’ve been staring at them like they’re the main couple in your favorite Telenovela.”

Eddie didn't deny it. He had also noticed how Buck and Tommy’s eyes kept gravitating towards each other. How Buck would go over to refill his drink, brushing up against Tommy in the process. And how Tommy would look like he wanted to say something, but always stopped himself at the last second. Looking at them, it was obvious how much they still cared for one another, the problem was–neither of them would make the first move to fix it.

“They’re idiots,” Eddie muttered. Buck was like a brother and Tommy was a really good friend, which is why it made this whole situation frustrating. The two of them needed to get their heads out of their asses and just talk to each other. Being apart clearly wasn't working for them. Buck still had his crazy baking binges whenever he particularly missed Tommy. And Tommy–well he kicked Eddie's ass onto the Muay Thai mats one too many times. They needed to mend this before his body was taken out of commission. Death by baked goods or combat sports, he shuddered at the thought. He was really starting to regret keeping Buck from texting Tommy a month ago.

“Big, lovable idiots,” Hen agreed. “So what are we gonna do about it?”

Chimney grinned, reaching into his pocket to reveal a small sprig of mistletoe. “I brought reinforcements.”

Eddie frowned. “Seriously? How is that going to help”

“Oh come on,” Chimney said, moving the mistletoe in his hand. “It’s Christmas. A little mistletoe magic never hurt anybody.”

Hen folded her arms. “I think your plan’s in trouble already. Buck’s been avoiding every doorway like it’s a hazard zone.”

“And Tommy’s all but taken residence in front of that drink station. Plus I think he’d just leave if he figured out what we were up to.” Chimney sighed disappointingly.

Eddie groaned, watching as Buck and Tommy, still on opposite sides of the room, once again glanced at each other when they thought no one was looking. It was infuriating.

“You know what?” Eddie said, standing up straighter. “Give me that thing.”

Chimney blinked in confusion. “What?”

“The mistletoe.” Eddie snatched it from Chimney’s hand.

Hen raised an eyebrow. “What’s your plan?”

Eddie scowled. “I don’t have one. I’m improvising.” ———————————————————

At the kitchen island, Buck was cutting the apple pie and setting the pieces onto plates when he sensed someone approaching. He glanced up–and there was Tommy, trying to stealthily grab a piece of cake.

“Uh, hey,” Tommy said sheepishly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that special way of his.

Buck froze in panic for half a second before schooling his expression into something neutral. “H–Hey”

The air between them was awkward–slightly charged with an undercurrent of tension and things left unsaid. Buck didn’t know how to shake the feeling.

“You having fun?” Tommy asked.

“Uh y–yeah, definitely,”Buck lied, nodding like a bobble head. Jeez, pull yourself together, he thought. “Great party, Lots of, uh, desserts!”

Tommy gave him a look, and Buck hated that Tommy could still see through him so easily.

“Good, I’m glad,” Tommy replied, voice a little tight.

Before Buck could continue blabbing and making a fool of himself, Eddie appeared out of nowhere, looking far too determined for Buck’s comfort.

“Alright,” Eddie said, interrupting whatever awkward moment the two were having. Eddie was happy they were finally talking, but he was on a mission now.

Both Buck and Tommy blinked at him in confusion.

“Eddie,” Buck started, “what–”

Eddie raised his arm, holding up the sprig of mistletoe like it was a declaration of war. “You’re under it.”

Tommy squinted, “What?”

“You’re under the mistletoe," Eddie repeated, deadpan.

“You’re holding it,” Tommy frowned.

“It doesn't matter,” Eddie said stubbornly, slightly shaking the mistletoe over them. “Still counts.”

Buck scoffed at him. “That’s not how mistletoe works, man. And you can’t just go holding it up above people's heads, it’s–”

“Shut up and kiss,” Eddie cut in, face blank and his voice completely flat.

Tommy turned to Buck, his expression torn between amusement and disbelief. “Is he serious right now?”

Eddie, once again wiggled the mistletoe above their heads. “Yes, now kiss.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The room had gone so quiet, you could hear a pin drop—Hen and Chimney watched with barely restrained glee, Athena peeked out from the hallway, Bobby pretended he wasn't paying attention and Maddie was trying to sneakily record the moment.

Buck huffed a small laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You know what? Fine.”

Tommy looked at him surprised. “Fine?”

“Yeah, fine,” Buck repeated, turning to face him. His voice was quieter, softer when he added, “It’s Christmas, right?” He hated how desperate he sounded, how much he actually wanted to feel Tommy’s lips on his. One more time, even if—he never recovered from this again.

Tommy’s brow furrowed. He looked like he wanted to argue, but something in Buck’s eyes made him stop. Instead, he took a deep breath and exhaled a quiet laugh. The butterflies in Buck’s stomach multiplied at the sound of it; he had really missed Tommy’s laugh.

“Alright,” Tommy said, stepping closer.

And then it happened.

The kiss started tentatively—hesitant, careful—but somewhere between the first touch and the way Tommy’s thumb brushed under his chin, so reminiscent of their first kiss forever ago, it deepened. The room erupted in cheers and whistles, but Buck and Tommy didn’t seem to notice. Now that they’d had a taste of each other again, they had no plans of stopping anytime soon.

———————————————————

The cheers had grown louder—Chimney was whooping like he’d just won the lottery, Karen and Hen were clapping and murmuring to each other, Athena was just shaking her head at the theatrics while Bobby looked on proudly, and Maddie looked entirely too satisfied with her phone.

Eddie, meanwhile, stood frozen in place, mistletoe still held awkwardly over Buck and Tommy, staring at the unfolding scene in front of him.

“O…okay,” he muttered under his breath. “That worked a little too well”

Eddie admitted he hadn't thought farther than getting these two to face their feelings for each other. At most, he was expecting an awkward peck and them finally talking things out. He should’ve known better–this was Buck and Tommy, the two had been notorious for never being able to keep their hands off one another.

He stood regretting all his life choices and wondering why he was still watching his best friends make out in front of him when suddenly–he heard one of them moan and that was it. “Nope, nu-uh.”

He chucked the mistletoe behind him, ignoring Chim’s oof and weak protest.

“Alright, mistletoe’s gone. Please, for the love of god and everyone's eyes tonight—get a room” Eddie pleaded.

“Not one of ours,” Athena interjected dryly.

That seemed to finally snap the couple back to reality, Tommy and Buck ended the kiss–both blushing and breathless, but staring at each other like they’d just discovered the meaning of life.

The look between them lingered, something unspoken but heavy passing in the air–a shared understanding and quite possibly a first step towards fixing what had once been broken between them.

“Want to get some fresh air?” Tommy softly asked Buck.

“Ye…Yeah,” Buck answered happily, ducking his head shyly.

Buck and Tommy turned to Eddie. They both beamed at him and excused themselves–Tommy setting his hand on Buck’s lower back and leading him outside. Eddie shook his head fondly, finally happy his friends had come together. Though he couldn’t quite believe he had to be the catalyst for it.

“Nice Work, Cupid,” Chimney said, elbowing him.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie muttered, glaring at the mistletoe clutched in Chim’s hand. “Also, different Holiday”

“It looks like you solved the problem,” Hen added.

“I just gently pushed things along. And now, I need a drink for my troubles,” Eddie said, already looking towards the drink station like the world’s thirstiest man.

“Oh, come on man,” Chimney said excitedly. “You know what you’ve just done?” he asked dramatically, clapping Eddie on the shoulder. “You’ve given us a Christmas miracle!”

Eddie just rolled his eyes and walked away to get his drink.

As he walked away, Chimney turned to Hen smirking. “I give them two weeks before they’re back together officially.”

Athena, from the kitchen yelled “One week!”

“Three days,” Bobby called out casually as he walked by with a tray of cookies.

Hen snorted, shaking her head. “You all know they’re getting back together by the end of the night. But I’m always happy to take your money.”

———————————————————

Outside, the night was cool—the kind of December night in California where a light jacket was all you needed. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees lining the back of Bobby and Athena’s yard. Twinkling Christmas lights wrapped around the patio’s gazebo casting a warm light over them.

Tommy and Evan stood side by side, the sound of laughter and soft music occasionally filtering through the partially closed glass doors behind them.

Tommy had his arms crossed, feeling like it was the only thing keeping him steady. At his side, Evan rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his feet, scuffing marks onto the concrete floor beneath him. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of the night filling the silence and space between them.

Finally, Tommy broke that silence. “So…that just happened.”

Evan let out a choked laugh, nodding. “Yeah. That definitely happened.”

Tommy turned to him, his expression soft but hesitant. “I didn't think you’d actually do it.”

Evan gave a small shrug, his voice quieter now. “Honestly, neither did I. But then Eddie started waving that stupid mistletoe, and I thought…why not? I mean, what’s one more heartbreak, right?” He tried to laugh it off, but it came out more bitter than he was expecting.

Tommy’s face fell, and he took a small step closer. “Ev…Buck. Fuck, no—Evan,” he said imploringly. His stomach churned at the thought of Evan hurting, all because he had been a coward.

“No, it’s fine,” Buck apologized quickly, shaking his head. “I’m okay. Really.”

“Stop,” Tommy said, his voice firm but not harsh. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Evan.”

Evan looked at him then, and the vulnerability in his eyes hit Tommy like a punch to the chest. “I don’t know how to do this, Tommy,” Evan admitted. “I don’t know how to stand here with you and act like everything’s okay when you were the one who left me. And yet, I still…” He swallowed hard, his voice trailing off一looking at Tommy slightly scared.

Tommy felt like he couldn't breathe. He was terrified to ask, but he needed to know. “Yet you still what? He asked gently, stepping closer.

“I still love you,” Evan finished, his voice barely audible. “And I don’t know how to stop. I’ve tried, Tommy. I promise, but…”

Tommy’s heart twisted at the raw honesty in Evan’s voice. He reached out, tentatively, his hand hovering for a moment in the space between them, before resting it lightly on the side of Evan’s face. “You’re not the only one,” he said softly.

Evan inhaled sharply and his eyes met Tommy’s, searching for any sign of deception, of hesitation. “What are you saying?”

Tommy took a deep breath, his fingers twitching slightly on Evan’s face. “I’m saying I love you. I never stopped loving you. And I’ve spent every moment since I walked out of your loft that night trying to convince myself it was the right thing to do. That you’d be better off without me一”

“Tommy一, Evan tried to interrupt.

Tommy kept talking, as though he didn't hear Evan. “But seeing you tonight…being near you again…”He shook his head, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s like I’ve been living without a heart all this time, and now, here with you一I can feel it beating again.”

Evan stared at him, uncomprehendingly. “Then why did you leave, Tommy?”

Tommy’s shoulders sagged under the weight of the question. “That night, when you asked me to move in, I was terrified. I felt like I’d fooled you into thinking I was this amazing guy, and if I let it go on…I’d keep trying to be someone I wasn’t. Or you’d eventually see the real me一a broken and lonely man with a lot of baggage—and eventually you’d realize you’d made a mistake. I didn’t know which one would be worse. I had been hurt so many times before, I couldn't let you break my heart. So I panicked and ran. And broke my own heart in the process.”

For a moment, Evan didn't say anything, his eyes searching Tommy’s face. Tommy felt his heart clenching in fear at Evan deciding to leave. Then, slowly, Evan reached up and covered Tommy's hand with his own. “I’m sorry, I realized afterwards that I really blindsided you. I should've just told you what I really meant, that I love you and wanted you around as much as possible. I understand being afraid. But Tommy, It wasn't fair of you to make that decision for us. For me. I've been in relationships before, I know when I want something.”

“I know,” Tommy said quietly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that. Shouldn't have said it at all.”

“Good,” Evan said, squeezing Tommy’s hand. “And, I get scared too,” he admitted. “But maybe this time around we can really talk and get to know each other better and figure it all out, together.”

Tommy felt his lips twisting into a smile. “I’d like that. And maybe next time you can remember I own a house, Evan.” Tommy said, using his other hand to poke him on the side.

Evan’s face exploded into a blinding smile, squirming slightly at Tommy touching his side. “Right, see we’re already discussing the important details!”

Tommy shook his head fondly, and finally let himself lean forward softly putting his lips to the pink mark above Evan’s eyebrow. Evan sighed happily.

They stood there for a moment, looking into one another 's eyes, neither quite believing the other was real. Feeling infinitely grateful to their friend who had given them the push they needed to get here. The glow from the Christmas lights reflected in Evan’s beautiful shining blue eyes, as Tommy traced his thumb over his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Evan,” Tommy said gently, his voice carrying a note of something vulnerable but undeniably hopeful.

“Merry Christmas, Tommy,” Evan replied, pulling him towards him and into a soft kiss.

And for the first time in months, the space between them didn't feel unbridgeable. It felt like the start of something new. Something stronger. Unshakeable.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #Tevan #christmas fic #my writing #my fics

51 notes · View notes

misshoneyimhome · 14 hours ago

Text

What’s up, buttercups! 🎄✨

Merry (steamy) Christmas, my loves! I’m so excited to share this next festive chapter for Sexy Christmas featuring none other than Captain Auston Matthews himself on this Christmas morning ❤️ This one is all about cosy holiday mornings, unwrapped surprises, and a whole lot of passion.

This chapter was such a joy to write— I had my g @lcandothisallday in mind ❤️ I hope it warms your holiday spirit (and maybe heats things up a little too).

Wishing you all the happiest of holidays filled with love, laughter, and a little extra spice.

Happy reading, my darlings! xo 🎁✨

➼｡ﾟ

Christmas Morning, Barely Wrapped - Auston Matthews

OC and the hockey player wake up together on Christmas morning, but instead of opening presents, they decide to unwrap each other first, making the holiday morning unforgettable.

Tropes & Warnings: 18+ smut, Auston Matthews x reader, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), cum inside

Word count: 2.6K

The soft glow of morning light seeped through the curtains, bathing the room in a golden hue. Outside, the world was hushed under a blanket of freshly fallen snow, a serene Christmas morning tableau. Inside, however, the warmth was anything but serene.

You stirred first, the faint hum of forgotten holiday music drifting from the speaker left on the night before. Your eyes opened to find Auston Matthews beside you, his dark lashes resting against his cheeks, his tousled hair a tempting mess. His broad chest rose and fell steadily, the intricate tattoos on his arm stretched lazily across the pillow.

The sight stirred memories of the night before, heat blooming in your cheeks as the events replayed in your mind.

“Mmm, morning,” Auston’s voice, low and still laced with sleep, broke through your thoughts. His dark eyes blinked open, meeting yours with a slow, lazy grin that was both boyish and utterly captivating. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you murmured, your voice husky from sleep as your fingers reached out to trace the stubble along his jaw.

He caught your hand, his lips brushing over your palm in a kiss that sent a shiver racing down your spine. His gaze, heavy with mischief and intent, held yours as he rolled onto his side, the covers slipping to reveal the expanse of his bare chest.

“Thought I’d wake up to presents,” he teased, his grin widening. “Instead, I get this view. Guess I’ve been really good this year.”

You laughed softly, but the sound faltered as his hand found your waist, tugging you closer beneath the covers. “You’re impossible,” you replied, though your breath hitched as his lips ghosted over yours.

“Impossible to resist,” he murmured, his words melting into the kiss he pressed against your lips. It started slow, tender, but quickly deepened, his hand sliding under the hem of the oversized t-shirt—his t-shirt—that you’d worn to bed, knowing full well you weren’t wearing panties beneath it, just as Auston had requested.

The warmth of his palm against your bare skin sent sparks coursing through you. “Didn’t realise you were unwrapping your first gift already,” you teased, your voice breathless as his lips found the sensitive spot below your ear.

“Best gift in this house,” he rasped, his lips curving into a smirk against your skin. “And I’m not sharing.”

Your laughter dissolved into a soft moan as his hands grew bolder, sliding the t-shirt up and over your head. His eyes raked over you; appreciation written in every line of his expression as he took in the sight of you in the soft morning light.

“Mmm yes, the perfect gift for me,” he said, his voice low and rough, his hands settling on your waist as though grounding himself. His lips found yours again, the kiss deep and consuming, his touch reverent yet insistent.

And instinctively, your hands found their way to the waistband of his sweatpants, your grin turning playful as you tugged at the fabric. “Maybe I should unwrap you too.”

His laughter rumbled low in his chest as he shifted, helping you slide the fabric down his hips, leaving him gloriously bare beneath the golden light. The sight of him stole your breath, the intimacy of the moment heightened as he drew you closer, his hands steady on your hips.

“You’re all I want for Christmas, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he effortlessly guided you to straddle him, the heat of his body against yours driving every coherent thought from your mind.

You grinned down at him, your hands roaming over the expanse of his toned chest, feeling the defined muscles shift under your touch. The air between you was thick with tension, nearly tangible, the kind that made your pulse race.

“And you are…” you began, your voice dripping with seduction as you let your fingers trail lower, never breaking contact with his heated skin. Slowly moving yourself down his body, you stopped just above his growing length, your lips hovering tantalisingly close as your hand wrapped around him, stroking his length with deliberate care. “…all I want, Aus.”

Your voice was low and filled with unrestrained desire, each word laced with intent. As he hardened fully in your hand, you leaned forward, your breath warm against him. With slow, deliberate movements, you took him into your mouth, your touch gentle but purposeful as you savoured every reaction your actions drew from him.

Auston groaned softly, his head falling back against the pillows as your lips wrapped around him, the warmth of your mouth sending a shudder through his body. His hand instinctively found its way to your hair, his fingers tangling gently in the strands as he murmured, “Fuck… you’re incredible.”

You maintained a slow, teasing rhythm, your tongue tracing along his cock as you glanced up at him through your lashes. The sight of him—his chest rising and falling heavily, his dark eyes hazy with desire—sent a surge of confidence through you, spurring you on as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper.

His grip on your hair tightened slightly, not to guide you but as if to ground himself, his breath hitching with every deliberate movement of your lips. “You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, his voice rough and low, his words laced with both awe and urgency.

You pulled back just enough to respond, your lips brushing over him as you whispered, “I’m just getting started.” Your hand replaced your mouth momentarily, stroking him with a firm but gentle grip as your other hand slid up his chest, your nails grazing his skin.

The way his hips bucked slightly into your touch, the way his head tilted back as he groaned your name, made you feel powerful, completely in control as you explored every reaction you could draw from him. You leaned back down, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip before taking him into your mouth again, deeper this time, the sensation earning a sharp gasp from him.

“Baby…” he rasped; his voice strained as his fingers flexed in your hair. “You’re so fucking good, but… I’m not going to last if you keep going like that.”

You pulled back, a smirk playing on your lips as you kissed your way back up his body, your movements slow and deliberate, making him feel every inch of your touch. When you reached his lips, you captured them in a kiss that was deep and consuming, your bodies pressing flush against each other as his hands found your waist.

“Then maybe we should move on to the next present,” you murmured against his lips, your voice filled with teasing intent as you rolled your hips against his, the friction sending a spark of pleasure through you both.

Auston growled softly, flipping you onto your back with a controlled urgency, his hands bracketing your head as he hovered over you. “You’re naughty,” he said, his lips curving into a grin that was both playful and full of promise. “But I think I like it when you’re naughty”

Auston’s grin widened, his dark eyes heavy with desire as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all-consuming. His body pressed against yours, the warmth of his bare skin leaving no space between you. His lips moved with deliberate precision, each kiss growing deeper, more urgent, as his hands roamed your body, memorising every curve.

“You make it impossible to think about anything else,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with need. His hands slipped down to your thighs, his fingers expertly finding your core to explore.

You gasped as he found your sensitive clit, his thumb circling while his index pressed passed your entrance.

Auston’s grin turned wicked as he felt the way your body reacted to his touch, his fingers moving with deliberate intent. “Mmm, so wet for me already,” he murmured, his voice rough and filled with satisfaction. His thumb continued its relentless circles over your sensitive clit, while his fingers pressed deeper inside you, curling slightly to hit just the right spot.

Your back arched off the bed, a soft moan escaping your lips as your hands gripped his shoulders for stability. The intensity of his touch sent waves of pleasure rippling through your body, each movement coaxing more from you.

“Aus…” you breathed, your voice trembling as your hips moved instinctively against his hand, seeking more.

His dark eyes locked onto yours, the fire of desire unmistakable as he leaned down, brushing his lips over your jawline and down your neck. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Every flick of his thumb, every press and curl of his fingers sent you higher, your breaths turning into soft, broken gasps. The way he watched you, his gaze fixed on your every reaction, only added to the heat pooling in your core.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his lips finding the sensitive spot below your ear. “So beautiful like this.”

The tension built quickly, your body coiling tighter with every calculated stroke of his hand. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your moans growing louder as the pleasure became almost too much to bear.

“Auston, I…” you managed to gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the wave of release loomed closer.

He grinned against your skin, his free hand gripping your hip to hold you steady. “Mmm yes, baby,” he coaxed, his voice dripping with encouragement. “Come for me.”

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his fingers, sent you tumbling over the edge. Your body arched against his, a cry of ecstasy spilling from your lips as the pleasure consumed you. Auston didn’t stop, his movements slowing but never ceasing, drawing out every aftershock until you were trembling beneath him.

As you came down from your high, Auston’s lips pressed soft kisses along your collarbone and up to your jawline. His hand slid out from between your thighs, only to rest gently on your hip, grounding you as you caught your breath.

“I love it when I make you cum like that,” he murmured, his forehead pressing gently against yours. His dark eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and adoration as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

With a fluid motion, Auston turned you onto your stomach, his strong hands guiding you as you settled against the mattress. He straddled you, his knees framing your hips as his hands slid down your sides, spreading your cheeks gently to align himself with your entrance.

Leaning down, his lips brushed softly against the nape of your neck, his breath warm and tantalising against your skin. One hand gripped your waist firmly, steadying you as he positioned himself, while the other grabbed the sheets next to your head. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured, his voice a husky rasp laced with anticipation, sending shivers racing down your spine.

The moment he pressed into you, your body tensed, the stretch sending a mix of pleasure and intensity coursing through you. Your fingers clenched the pillow on either side of your head. For a moment he stilled, giving you time to adjust as he pressed soft kisses along your shoulder blade, his hand massaging your hips to keep you grounded.

“Relax, baby,” he whispered, his voice soothing as he began to move slowly, his hips rolling in deliberate, measured thrusts that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. His chest stayed pressed against your back, his warmth and weight a comforting contrast to the intensity of his movements.

Each thrust grew deeper, more deliberate, as Auston adjusted his angle, seeking out and finding that spot inside you that made you cry out in pure bliss. The room filled with the symphony of your moans, harmonising with his laboured breaths and the faint creak of the bed beneath you. The pace quickened, each movement driving you both closer to the edge, the connection between you electric.

His hand explored your body with unrestrained devotion, one gripping your hips firmly to hold you in place, the other tightening in the sheets. His touch was both possessive and tender, as though he wanted to claim every inch of you while cherishing it all at once.

The position felt like the perfect juxtaposition—intimately close yet tantalisingly daring. His chest pressed to your back, his lips leaving soft, lingering kisses along your shoulder and neck, adding a layer of romantic heat to the raw intensity of the moment. You felt entirely consumed by him, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, every movement sending you both spiralling further into pleasure.

Auston’s rhythm grew steadier, each deliberate thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you closer into him with every movement, as if he couldn’t bear to let even a breath of space exist between you. The sheer intensity of the connection left you trembling, your moans spilling freely, blending with the low groans escaping from deep in his throat.

His hand then slid down the curve of your back, his fingertips tracing your spine with a reverence that sent shivers through you. The position of his featherlight caress along your back heightened every sensation, making you ache for him even more.

“Aus…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with raw need. The sound of his name on your lips seemed to ignite something in him, his movements growing deeper, more purposeful as he adjusted his angle. The shift had you gasping, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo as he found the perfect spot inside you. “Just like that.”

“Oh shi-,”” he murmured, his voice rough, his lips brushing against your ear. “Fuck I’m getting close, baby.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you as your body arched into him. His chest pressed flush against your back, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below your ear before trailing down to your shoulder. Each kiss was a mix of tenderness and unrestrained hunger, as if he was determined to leave no part of you untouched, unclaimed.

His hand slipped from your hip, sliding around to your front, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core. The dual sensations of his touch and the way he moved within you had you spiralling closer to the edge, the tension coiling tighter with every moment.

“Auston, I’m gonna—” you gasped, your words catching as the pleasure overtook you, the waves crashing over you in a crescendo that left you trembling in his arms. And the way your body clenched around him pushed him to his own release, a deep groan vibrating against your skin as he buried himself fully, his movements faltering as he followed you over the edge.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your laboured breaths and the soft hum of the world outside. Auston’s weight pressed comfortingly against you as he leaned down to kiss the back of your neck, his lips lingering there before he pulled out and shifted to lie beside you.

Turning you gently, he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you close as his hands glided through your hair. His voice was a tender murmur against your ear, warm and content. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, the satisfaction in his tone matching the soft glow still radiating between you. “Best morning I could ever wish for.”

You smiled, your lips brushing against his chest as you rested your head there, the steady thrum of his heartbeat grounding you in the moment. “Merry Christmas, Aus,” you replied softly, your voice laced with warmth and contentment.

Entwined in each other’s embrace, with the morning light filtering in and the world outside covered in snow, everything felt perfect. It was the kind of Christmas morning you’d remember forever—the kind where love, warmth, and joy made everything else fade into the background.

#sexy christmas #18+ smut #auston matthews smut #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fanfic #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #nhl hockey fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey romance

33 notes · View notes