#men didn’t normally wear wedding bands at this point in time but that’s why I take artistic liberty and say wizards were built different
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For Old Times’ Sake
AO3 Link
Ominis and his wife, MC, return home from a Ministry party. Ominis hasn’t quite sobered up yet.
Ominis x fem!MC
SFW—allusions to and non-explicit mentions of sex, but nothing comes of it
Cozy vibes only™. Not as tightly structured as most of my other fics, just be warned
Word count: 3,578
A/N: Soooo this kinda started as a simple HC post about how I imagine adult Ominis when he's drunk, and how he turns into the most cuddly and sleepy bear. I ended up having so much I wanted to say that it accidentally turned into a fic lol. This is rambly because it’s basically just a glorified list of attributes, sorry lol
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Ominis was more than happy to leave the party to which he and MC had been invited.
“Damned bureaucrats,” he had slurred as he held out his hand to help MC climb into a muggle’s carriage outside the opulent London flat where the party had been dragging on for five hours already.
“Ominis,” MC had gently chided as she sat and gathered the black and dark green skirts of her long dress inside the carriage. “I know they’re not the most exciting people, but we should at least try to be polite. After all, many of those people are working to keep us safe from the Gaunts—and they provided the drinks you enjoyed tonight.”
“They won’t hear me—they’re too busy pulling themselves off over their insignificant accomplishments in a vain attempt to climb their grotesque little hierarchy,” Ominis had grumbled. He had ducked inside the carriage after her, his dark ensemble catching the light of the carriage’s lantern and reflecting a subtle, deep green pattern. “But yes, they do have impeccable taste in alcohol.”
MC had sighed defeatedly and, rather than argue further, she had chosen to kiss his cheek in a silent warning to drop the subject.
In spite of his inebriation, Ominis had taken the hint.
As the carriage trundled along, the beat of the horses’ hooves and the sway of the carriage on the cobbled pavement lulled Ominis. He slowly began to slump against MC, who leaned on him in return. She looked up and removed the handsome top hat that was threatening to fall right off his head and placed it on the seat beside her. Ominis mumbled his thanks and took her ornately feathered hat off to kiss the top of her head. He softly mentioned how comfortable she was, barely audible over the carriage.
Ominis groused and tried to press himself closer to MC when the carriage slowed to a halt in front of the unassuming late-night restaurant. MC placed her husband’s hat back upon his head before replacing her own, practically pushing him upright to wake him up.
MC gracefully led a sleepy Ominis from the carriage, much to the bemusement of the driver, and the two made their way into the warm glow of the quiet restaurant.
“Just how much did you drink?” MC whispered, amused, as Ominis let her lead him through the door to avoid his wand being spotted by muggles.
“A few glasses of wine… oh, and some brandy. I can’t recall how much exactly,” Ominis mumbled. “I’ve felt worse.”
“I want you to rest the moment we get home,” MC replied sternly. “I don’t like to see you so unsteady on your feet.”
Ominis began to protest but relented, not wanting to worry his wife any further.
The restaurant was warm, dark and peaceful. The comforting scent of English cooking wafted through the dining room, and MC glanced at the tables hidden away in little wooden nooks, each party having quiet conversations while enjoying their food and drink.
MC guided Ominis to the bar where he quietly ordered a combination of drinks and appetizers that did not appear on the menu. The maître d’ nodded and escorted them to a small, well-appointed room in the back with a lively fireplace on the far wall. Ominis once again leaned against MC, wrapped an arm around her and lovingly stroked her shoulder as she took a small handful of powder from a nearby urn and tossed it in the fire, turning it a bright, glittering green.
“I cannot wait to be home,” Ominis mumbled. MC giggled and took him by the hand as they walked into the fireplace and emerged in the familiar comfort of their spacious drawing room.
The housekeeper sitting on the divan looked up from her book and hurried over to the couple to take their coats and hats, cheerfully greeting them. Ominis stretched and yawned impolitely before sinking into the plush couch in front of the fire, which had returned to its normal bright yellow and orange.
“The children were angels tonight,” the housekeeper beamed as she took MC’s coat. “They’re both tucked in and sound asleep. Shall I bring you two some tea and biscuits?”
MC followed the housekeeper’s gaze to Ominis, who had already shed his jacket and had a drunken smile on his face as he reclined on the couch. His arms were outstretched on the backrest and he soaked up the heat of the fireplace before him.
“If you could, please,” MC replied gratefully. She leaned in close and whispered. “It was another boring Ministry of Magic party, and he was exceptionally grumpy about it. He’s had quite a bit to drink.”
The two shared a quiet laugh. “I’ll be sure the cook includes some of his favorite sweets,” the housekeeper whispered back.
When MC was left alone with Ominis, she settled beside him, her dress creating a small ocean of soft fabric around her. She lovingly gazed up at her husband, tracing the contours of his face with her fingertips. Ominis closed his eyes and sighed happily. He had already unbuttoned the top of his formal white shirt, untucked it from his trousers and clumsily rolled the sleeves halfway up his forearms. MC’s breath caught in her throat when she saw how his alabaster skin caught the firelight, throwing dramatic shadows across his beautiful hands and wrists.
“Feeling any better?” MC murmured.
Without answering her question, Ominis turned towards MC and ungracefully gathered her in his arms, nestling his chin into his favorite little spot between her neck and shoulder. In his intoxication and enthusiasm, he began to list forward. MC giggled and stroked his back.
“So warm,” Ominis mumbled. “You’re such a good wife to me.”
“Because I’m warm?” MC laughed.
“Yes,” Ominis insisted. “And because you’re sweet, you’re deviously intelligent, you’re a remarkable mother to our children…”
Ominis devolved into quiet mumbling, and MC affectionately hushed him as she continued running her hand up and down his back.
Ominis’ weight pressed MC into the couch until he was practically lying on top of her. She wiggled and tried to gently nudge him back upright, but he only grunted and nuzzled into her neck further, pressing sleepy half-kisses into her skin.
“It’s a good thing I decided not to drink tonight, isn’t it?” She muttered as she ran her fingers through his hair and undid all the pomade that had kept it so immaculate all evening.
“You would be twice the mess I am,” Ominis smiled, his voice muffled by the upholstery. He held her tighter until her laughter came out in wheezes as she begged to be released.
Ominis chuckled, sat back up and let MC go. It wouldn’t have been right to make love while he was so drunk, but MC couldn’t help but feel her heart flutter anyway at the sight of his sleepy, disheveled form.
Ominis once again pulled MC in close and held her in his arms. He began covering her in more sleepy kisses.
“Well, aren’t you the persistent one tonight?” MC laughed.
“I know what I like,” Ominis hummed.
A quiet knock sounded at the door, and MC scarcely heard it over her husband’s affections.
“Where would you like me to leave this?” came the housekeeper’s voice from the doorway.
MC struggled to break free from Ominis’ hold as she jumped up. He let out a pitiful whine as his arms became woefully empty.
MC, slightly embarrassed, directed the housekeeper to set a tray of tea, baked goods and some candies from their most recent trip to Honeyduke’s on the coffee table before them.
“I’ll leave you two alone, now,” the housekeeper said with a knowing smile. MC giggled nervously, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and thanked the housekeeper as she left and closed the door behind her.
“Come back over here, my little hummingbird,” Ominis mumbled. He had meant to sound commanding, but a smile played on his lips as he slurred.
“Only if you promise to have some tea and a bit to eat,” MC smiled as she wandered back to the couch and perched herself beside Ominis. “You’re very drunk.”
“I know,” Ominis replied matter-of-factly. “Can I not still hold my beautiful wife in her gorgeous dress while I’m drunk?”
“Eat,” MC smiled, taking a small cake from the tray and placing it in Ominis' palm. MC poured a cup of tea and handed it to Ominis once he had finished the cake. When he tried to set down the cup after one sip, she smirked and gave it back to him.
“At least finish a cup of tea. If you wake up tomorrow with a splitting headache, I’ll get to gloat over you,” she playfully warned.
Ominis made a half-hearted grumble and took a few more sips.
“Your dress truly is beautiful,” he quietly offered as he held his teacup. “I can barely keep my fingers off the neckline, the lace on the sleeves feels wonderful and hearing the swish of the fabric as you walk is intoxicating. I can only imagine the jealousy of the men who witnessed you on my arm… You should wear that dress more often,” Ominis remarked smugly.
MC bubbled with warm laughter and leaned against him. “That would mean going to more Ministry parties.”
Ominis scowled, remembering the last few dreadful hours sitting at a table with nobody he knew, staying silent and entertaining himself with alcohol and concocting strategies for how he would get MC out of her dress to make sweet, gentle love to her.
Ominis quickly gulped down the last of his tea. He held it aloft and turned it upside down to demonstrate its emptiness.
“Is that all you require of me, your majesty?” Ominis teased as she took the cup from him.
MC rolled her eyes with a laugh and refilled the cup. “Drink some more if you can. But yes, you’ve done all I asked for the moment, my darling prince.”
Ominis eagerly snatched her up in his arms and reclined on the couch. He ran a single finger down MC’s back while his other hand slipped down to her waist. His starry blue eyes bore into the ceiling as he traced little shapes on the warm, soft skin of her back that was exposed by the dress.
“Are you trying to get me out of my dress?” MC flirted.
“Mmf… I’m too drunk for sex right now. Just let me hold you,” Ominis mumbled.
“Ever the gentleman,” MC warmly smiled. “You know, if you have more tea or water, perhaps we could head to bed after a while.” She suggestively walked her fingers up his chest, but Ominis ignored it.
“I want to hold you,” Ominis stubbornly insisted.
“All right, all right,” MC chuckled before letting out a sigh and resting her head on him again. “It is nice to just lie here, isn’t it?”
“It’s leagues better than that party… this reminds me of the nights we spent in the Room of Requirement,” Ominis happily mumbled, “when we first fell in love.”
“That was so long ago, wasn’t it?” MC replied dreamily.
“Ten years… it seems like no time at all, and yet it also feels as if I’ve loved you my entire life.”
MC thought she heard Ominis’ voice break ever so slightly, and she raised her head to peer at his face. His eyes were brimming as he beamed, still staring heavenward.
“Two perfect little children, a beautiful old house in the peaceful countryside, an utterly stunning wife… I never could have guessed this was how my life would turn out that night I first held you in my arms.”
MC felt a tug at her own throat. “You’re always so sentimental when you’re drunk,” she laughed as a tear escaped and ran down her cheek. “But yes… who could have guessed this was what we had to look forward to?”
“I thought I would never find someone who loved me so completely,” Ominis mused as he fumbled with the pins in MC’s hair, counting as he drew out each pin he had helped her place that afternoon in preparation for the party. “I’m still in disbelief every morning when I wake up next to you.”
As Ominis withdrew the last pin, MC's hair fell out of its formal styling. Ominis carded his fingers through it, unraveling it until it was gracefully draped down her back. He then began to massage MC's scalp, relieving the tension and aches that her fancy hairstyles frequently caused.
"Do you still sometimes feel unlovable, then?” MC gently asked, lifting her head again and placing a flat hand on his chest.
Ominis hesitated for a moment. “Yes… it’s only once in a great while, but it does happen… I’m sorry, I know there’s no reason to feel that way, and—”
“I won’t have you apologizing for that,” MC scolded in her softest tone. She kissed his chest in an attempt to loosen his muscles, which had tensed. “I understand. When did you last feel that way?”
“A… a few days ago,” Ominis admitted shyly as his hands fell away from her hair. “I don’t know why. I simply woke up feeling undeserving of your love, our children’s love, the love of your father, Sebastian’s friendship… I felt as if I were nothing more than the miserable Gaunt boy nobody trusts or likes.”
Ominis sniffled once and clutched the skirt of MC’s dress.
MC pulled herself up further to kiss her husband again. “As I recall, you had gotten another letter from your family the day before, hadn’t you?”
“Yes,” Ominis replied miserably. “Another threat. You needn’t hear the details, but as always, they want me to abandon you and our innocent little children.”
MC shivered slightly. Ominis never allowed her to see the letters out of fear for her own wellbeing, which was perfectly fine by her. A number of months ago, she had found an entire stack of them piled up in his study and, wondering if they were the financial documents she had been searching for all afternoon, opened them. She had ended up sitting on the floor for half an hour, transfixed in horror as she read page after page written by his mother, father and even some of his siblings. The way the Gaunts talked about MC and their children as if they were mere animals and tried to manipulate Ominis had made MC feel nauseated. She had only read a fraction of the letters from the pile, but she had hastily put them back and never spoke of it to her husband. MC had been expecting him to give her a frustrated reminder not to shuffle the papers around on his desk, as it only made things more difficult when he was already visually impaired, but instead she could have sworn Ominis had been especially affectionate and protective for the next few days afterwards.
MC pressed herself to Ominis, who wrapped his arms around her tightly.
“Could that be why you felt so badly, then?” MC murmured.
“I think you’re right,” Ominis replied.
The drawing room became deathly quiet. The only sounds were the crackling of the fireplace and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Ominis squeezed MC closer as if the Gaunts were about to burst through the door and pluck her from his grasp. MC wondered how many letters he still received in a single month. Ominis had once admitted a few years ago that he always held out hope for reconciliation with his parents and siblings, as far-fetched as the possibility was. To continue opening letter after letter only to find the same violent threats and abusive words must have played heavily on his mind and health, MC thought.
“I’m sorry,” Ominis sighed as he sat up and untangled himself from MC. She felt a pang in her heart as she was gently pushed away. “I didn’t mean to ruin your mood.”
“Darling, don’t say that,” MC replied as she kissed his cheek. “I’m glad you told me. And you should know there is never so much as one second in which I don’t love you to the moon and back. Your son misses you whenever you have to be away. He is always ready to ask me a barrage of questions about when his papa will be back. And your daughter is absolutely radiant when you hold her or rock her to sleep in your arms; you’ve heard how fussy she can get until she knows you’re holding her. I think you’re her favorite,” MC giggled. “And do you remember our lunch with my father last Sunday when he told you how proud he was of you? He said you were the kind of man most father-in-laws could only wish for. Sebastian also constantly writes to you, too. He’s coming to visit next month after his trip to Africa, and he misses you greatly. You are always loved by every one of us—no matter what.” MC’s voice began to break as she smiled and kissed him tenderly again.
“I thought I was the sentimental drunk here,” Ominis smiled as he stroked MC’s hair. “But thank you. It does mean a lot to hear all that.”
MC leaned forward and took Ominis’ cup of tea. Following their little ritual, she lifted his wrist, slid her fingertips down his hand and guided his fingers around the cup, carefully releasing her grip as she watched to make sure he wouldn’t drop it. His hands delicately grasped the china as he tipped it back and drank the tea in almost one gulp. MC couldn’t help but smile as she refilled the tiny cup and handed it to him again in the same gesture. His shoulders began to loosen, and his eyes slid shut as a serene expression came over him.
“I hope you know you’re too good to me,” Ominis muttered. “You don’t have to do any of this. You could have gone to bed a long time ago and left me to my nonsense here, but you stayed.”
MC chuckled and leaned against him, her hand on his chest. “Because I love you, Ominis.”
Ominis opened his mouth to say something self deprecating, but he thought better of it and only smiled gently.
“Thank you,” he replied as he kissed her cheek. “And I love you, MC.”
MC reached down to hold Ominis’ hand and idly traced little shapes in his palm. “Are you ready for bed? As much as I adore sitting here with you, I’m getting very sleepy. I hope we can continue talking like this in the morning, though.”
“I was thinking of sleeping here tonight, actually—my mind is occupied with nostalgic thoughts of our school days now.”
“Will you be comfortable? Our bed is so much warmer and softer… And I would be lonely,” MC murmured as her head dipped.
“Oh, but I want you to join me,” Ominis smiled as he pulled MC into his chest and laid back on the warm upholstery. He let out a deep sigh as his arms snaked around her and squeezed.
“I’m a bit ashamed to admit it, but sometimes I forget what it was like to hold you in the days when we were so young… when there were no Ministry of Magic assignments or children to raise—when we barely grasped what it truly meant to make love and we had homework we skipped just so we could be together a little while longer before sleep,” Ominis softly laughed. “I am a fool who easily forgets why anyone would love him, and I want to be reminded of the pure love you’ve always had for me since the very beginning.”
MC settled into Ominis’ hold as he spoke, magnetically drawn to his embrace. It had, indeed, been a long time since she had fallen asleep on her husband’s chest. As she laid her head down, his presence became soporific. Between the fireplace and the heat Ominis radiated, MC felt no need for a blanket, and the echo of his voice was like a lullaby.
“You’re not a fool, Ominis,” MC murmured as she reached around to take his left hand. She ran her fingertips over his wedding ring. “You’re overcoming an unthinkable amount of suffering. It’s only natural to need help sometimes. And I’ll always be here. I promise.”
Ominis went quiet, absorbing her words and turning them over in his mind, treasuring each one. MC smiled as she watched his contemplative face. He squeezed her hand in gratitude.
“Are you comfortable, little hummingbird?” Ominis finally said when they released each other’s hands. He buried his fingertips in the hair on her scalp and scratched affectionately.
“I can’t imagine anything more comfortable than you,” MC mumbled as she settled down again. She fought the sleep tugging at her eyes just to spend a few more moments enjoying her husband, but in the end, sleep won and she quickly fell into dreams.
Silence overtook the couple once again, but it was no longer foreboding or full of lonely thoughts. Now, it was Ominis’ kiss upon his precious wife’s head. It was peaceful rest in the arms of the love of his life. He was sure he would have a headache in the morning, but as long as MC could be by his side, it did not seem so bad.
#men didn’t normally wear wedding bands at this point in time but that’s why I take artistic liberty and say wizards were built different#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy fanfic#ominis gaunt#ominis x mc#ominis gaunt x mc#isabel greymoore
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i’m entering @thatesqcrush Valentine’s Bingo!! It’s my first time and I hope this is good! It covers the “Oral sex” square! Enjoy!
Rafael Barba x Reader
Prompt: a very much needed drunk night turns into a hookup
Warnings: smut, drunk sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), p in v, fingering
Words: 4,223
sorry for the typos...
Drunk in love
Shutting you down and pushing you away was Rafael Barba’s new activity. Not that he wants to but he has to. He doesn’t know why or how he had let himself fall for you, especially since one of the first things he noticed on you was your wedding band. He never saw your husband but Elias - or whatever his name is - seems pretty real, and according to Mike Dodds, he’s “twice our size”.
But god you’re so beautiful. And young, clever, nice, funny. You have everything a man can dream in someone, but somehow, you’re still very insecure about yourself. He sees it when you look at him or Liv for approval when you have a break in a case, or how you sometimes belittle yourself when the guys tease you. He knew how insecure you are when you blushed after he complimented you. He didn’t attend to at first, but when he saw you in the little green dress that showed off your curves so perfectly, he couldn’t help but to say, ”who’s that gorgeous woman and what have you done with my detective?”
Rafael still curses himself for saying so. You have been acting differently since then, you’re less talkative, more shutdown. You probably know now about his crush on you and you’re just keeping your distance. Just like he tried at first.
But you’re one very stubborn woman. He could snap at you one day and you’d greet him the next one with a smile, like nothing happened. He hates you for it. You’re pulling up with him and he doesn’t know why. Why would you? He’s the worst. And you’re fucking married.
Rafael hates to admit it, but he’s a little jealous of Mike Dodds and Sonny Carisi. Especially Mike. He knows partners have a very special relationship, that you have to trust each other with your lives. But he gets to hug you, spend so much time with you, to go out to bars or restaurants with you. He knows there’s nothing romantic in that relationship, but sometimes he wishes he’s the one you hug, out of nowhere. But he’s not. He’s just the weird and annoying ADA.
To stop thinking about you, Rafael Barba went back on tracks and met with a few people. Both men and women, it usually ends in a one night stand. And in the morning, he hates himself a little more because your face is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes. One night, a woman stopped him mid-sex, “My name’s Jane, not Y/N,” she exclaimed. Then she dressed back up and left.
There’s this woman he keeps seeing though. It’s mostly just sex, and he can’t complain about her talents in bed. Maybe he should take her on a date? Try to make this serious? Well, as serious as he can be, knowing that his world stops spinning every time he lays his eyes on you. He hates you.
*****
“Could you cover for me tonight and perhaps tomorrow morning?” you asked Mike, as you two were on a stakeout. Technically, Mike is your superior, but he’s also your partner and you can trust him, with everything.
“Only if you tell him why,” he answered.
“Elias told me he has a work thing out of town. I need to check,”
Mike already knows your doubts on your husband’s fidelity. It’s been building up for months now. Mike advised you to talk to him but you refused. You’re scared about what he may tell you.
“You’re finally following your doubts! Don’t you think talking to him would be better?”
“If I’m wrong, I’m gonna make a fool of myself,” you sighed, “And if I’m right-- I really don’t know how I’m gonna react, I can’t be facing him at that moment,”
“Fine,” the sergeant isn’t convinced it’s the right thing to do, but he knows better than to fight with you on that. “Do you want me to come with you?” he offered.
“Thanks, but no,” you kissed his cheek and focused back on your job.
*****
Your doubts and your fears become reality. Elias is cheating on you, with some gorgeous brunette, a little bit older than you. She looks like a model compared to you. And you can feel your heart breaking when he leans to kiss her passionately. It’s fucking real. You had doubts, but a part of you kept refusing to believe it. Elias was the man of your dreams, he’s your first love, your husband. You loved him with all your heart and he’s just-- a fucking asshole.
You drove all night long, without any destination. You showed up late at work - Mike had covered for you - and you went on with your life.
You lied to Mike, telling him that you were wrong and Elias was really away for work. To Elias? You didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to face it for now. You didn’t want to hear some lame excuses, or blaming. You didn’t want him to break your heart a little more. So everyday, for weeks, you went home, slept beside him, answered when he was talking to you, barely returned his kisses. There was no sex though. Lack of sex had been the starting point of your doubts. You did get tested however. You didn’t know if he’s using protections with her, or if there are other women, or whatever, so you had to be sure you had no STD. Luckily you didn’t.
*****
Rafael is tired of how cold you’re with him. He doesn’t know if you’re the same way with the rest of the squad, but you’re with him and it’s pissing him off. If it’s because of his crush on you, he wished you’d say so, he’d lie by telling you he’s seeing someone and that whatever he felt for you, it’s gone. And the ‘relationship’ could go back to normal.
Liv texted him to say you’re coming to get the warrant. He stopped working after he read the text. How can he bring it up to you? How can he throw the subject? Why is he that nervous anyway? Why does he care? You’re just a young detective he met a year prior. You don’t matter to him. You’re good at what you do, but in a few years, both of you will move on with your lives. And you won’t remember him. Ever. Why does he care?
“Hi Barba,” you entered his office after he told you to come in. He hates when you call him ‘Barba’. You usually go with his first name. Why did it change?
“Morning detective,” he answered, coldly, not looking up from his notepad. “Carmen should be back in five minutes with the warrant,”
“K. Can I get a coffee?”
He finally puts his pen down and looks up to you. You’re standing right across his desk, your hair is tied in a ponytail, you have those dark cargo pants that fit your curves so perfectly, and a blue NYPD sweater. “Can you wear that whenever you want?” he asked, pointing at your sweater.
“My shirt is in the trash with the biggest coffee stain on it. I stole this from Mike,”
It’s indeed a little loose for you. Your hands are mostly hidden in the sleeves and he can’t distinguish your breasts - not that he looks for it…
You move to the coffee pot and pour yourself a cup. You look over your shoulder, “Want some?” he nods and extends his empty cup to you.
“I can wait outside if you want,” you said, after you drank the coffee faster than he ever did.
“Take the couch, Y/N,”
Once you sat on his couch, Rafael sighed, stood up and sat next to you. “Is there a problem?” he asked.
You looked at him, confused. “About?”
“Me?” he offered. “I don’t know. Have I done something to upset you?”
You shyly smiled at that and Rafael’s heart melted. “It’s nothing to do with you, Rafael. I promise,” you briefly squeezed his hand and let it go. He wanted to grab it and never let it go.
“Then what is it? Something’s wrong with you,”
“If someone told me you’d be the first to notice, I would have laughed,” you giggled.
“Hmm… should I be offended by that?” he raised an eyebrow.
“You’re the outsider, you know. But we love you for that,”
“I don’t know who’s “we”, but it’s certainly not the SVU squad,” he kept going before you answered, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”
You took you a very long moment to say it. A moment during which Rafael forgot how to breath. He was expecting many things, but not this. After that, it all happened so fast. You cried and leaned to your side until your face hit his chest. Unsure at first, he finally wrapped his arms around your shoulders and hugged you. His nose got buried in your hair and he knew it was the scent he wanted to smell for the rest of his life. He felt your hand on his pectoral, turning into a fist on his shirt. “I hate him,” you cried. “But I’m scared,”
“Scared of?” he softly kissed your hair.
“Being alone? Doing it all over again? Never meeting someone else?” you took a deep breath, “But I’m the most scared of why he did it,”
“There are no excuses, Y/N. I know what it feels like, I know you’re blaming yourself, thinking that it’s your fault, but it’s not,” he softly pulled you away to grab your face in his hands. He ran his thumbs on your cheeks to take the tears away and forced you to look at him. “He doesn’t deserve you, he doesn’t deserve your tears,”
You nodded at that and tried to regain control as you both heard Carmen’s heels.
“Can I take you out for drinks tonight?” he offered before you left.
“Thank you, but I don’t want to be around people,”
“Ok, my place then?”
You nodded again, kissed his cheek and left with a shy “see you tonight”.
*****
After leaving the precinct, you quickly stopped at your shared apartment to change clothes. Elias was there, drinking a beer and making dinner, as if everything was okay. You barely greeted him and walked to the bathroom. You took a quick shower, changed into high-waisted ripped jeans, dark crop top and a flannel shirt. You redid your makeup, and let your long hair drop on your shoulders.
“Where are you going?” Elias asked, as you were putting your doc martens on.
“Out,” you answered coldly.
“I can see that. Work?”
“Nope,” you grabbed your keys.
“Should I wait for you?”
“No, don’t,”
And you were gone.
Rafael is stressed. He doesn’t know what to expect from that night. Probably nothing, you’re broken-hearted, you just need a night to relax and either talk about it and completely forget. He will give you that. He will be a good listener, you’ll have his shoulder to cry on if needed. He turned down the woman he’s seeing to spend the night with you. He didn’t give explanations, just said he has to work. She just answered “K.”, maybe she’s upset but he doesn’t care much.
When he opens his door, he forgets how to breath. You’re gorgeous in a very natural way. He lets you in his apartment, you’ve been there once, when you were his protection detail after he received death threats. You stayed up all night long to make sure he was okay and he felt so cared for, it warmed his heart in an unfamiliar way.
“Beer?” he offered.
“No, scotch. I need something strong tonight,”
You sit on his couch, tug your legs under your butt, just making comfortable. He comes back with two glasses of scotch, and offers you one. “I didn’t have time to cook but I ordered italian,”
“Thanks but you shouldn’t have. I’m not hungry,”
“If you don’t eat, you don’t drink. Your choice,” he smiled and you nodded.
Rafael is doing his best to stay friendly and not flirty, but after his fourth glass, he doesn’t control himself as much. There are empty containers on the coffee table, the bottle of scotch is getting empty. You’re laying against him, your body is so close to his, he can feel your body heat and smell your scent. “Your husband is such a dumbass,” he said and you turned to face him. “I mean-- that guy is married to--you. And he’s cheating on you? How stupid does it make him?”
“I’m not special,” you shrugged.
“I’m talking to Y/N Y/L/N, right? Cause that woman is special,”
“How so?”
“This. You don’t even realize how amazing you are. You blush when you get a compliment, you’re a badass when you’re with a perp, but you’re always looking for approval when you have an idea. You’re so smart and nice, and beautiful, and sweet, and--”
Rafael stopped when he heard you giggle. He laughed too, because your laugh always does that to him. “How drunk are you, Rafael?”
“Enough to tell you so, but no enough to lie about it,”
“Maybe I should forgive him,”
“Wait, what? No!” Rafael exclaimed and sat straight. “He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness! Why would you do that?” he didn’t expect his voice to be this high pitched.
“Because-- I won’t find someone else to put up with me,”
You sounded so dramatic, it made Rafael laugh. “You’re twenty seven, Y/N! You have so much time ahead,”
“Maybe but-- I’m not easy to live with, Rafa. I’m annoying, I work all the time, I don’t cook, I’m not good in bed, I--”
“Wow,” he exclaimed again to make you stop talking. “Is this how he made you feel?”
“No--yes. Maybe, I don’t know-- sex is… simple with him,” you paused, “But you probably don’t want to hear about my sex life,” you took a sip of your drink.
“I do. I mean-- it’s not about being good in bed. It’s about the connection, what two people are looking for,”
“What are you looking for in sex?”
“Depends. When it’s a one night stand, it’s mostly relief. Do I care about my partner’s pleasure? Yeah, sure but not as much as if I’m in love,”
“I wonder what it feels like one night with Rafael Barba,” you had a grin on your face, teasing him. You were drunk, but so was he.
“I can show you,”
Rafael didn’t expect you to react with a kiss, but you did. You awkwardly press your lips against his and Rafael froze for a second. But he deepened the kiss, cupping your face in his hand. He felt your tongue asking for access and he happily obliged. He laid down on the couch and you sat on his lap, never breaking the kiss. You feel like heaven. His hand settled on your bare skin between your jeans and your top before sliding under the crop top. Your hands did the same on his torso, sending shivers in his entire body.
He noticed when you arrived but now he has the confirmation; you aren’t wearing any bra and you have your nipples pierced. He groaned loudly when he felt your breasts in his palms, which made you smile against his mouth. “Does it hurt?” he asked when he started to play with your nipples.
“God no, I love it,” you sighed in pleasure. “Ever been with someone who has their nipples pierced?”
“No,” he growled, “Can I?” he asked before sucking on your nipple. You nodded and he almost assaulted your breasts. Nipples pierced is fucking amazing. Especially yours.
“I want to feel your skin,” you shyly requested and Rafael obliged. He let you take his tee-shirt off, tossing it on the floor. Your hands touched his body like he was a greek god. You kissed, sucked and bit his neck from a moment while he was softly thrusting his erection against your clothes center.
Rafael doesn’t control himself or his pleasure when he’s drunk. He’s scared that he may come so fast you won’t enjoy this moment with him. He held you against him and took you to the bedroom. You both undressed each other before laying down on the bed. Rafael drunk you in. You, completely naked on his bed. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He briefly kissed you before making his own down to your core. He gently bite your inner thigh before burying his tongue into you. You let out such a beautiful sound, it almost made him come on the spot. “You’re fucking delicious,” he growled.
“You--oh, you don’t have to do this, Rafael,” you said. But he was pleasuring you so good.
���Why wouldn’t I? This pussy is calling for my mouth,” his hot breath against your clit made you shiver, “You’re so wet, baby,” he returned to his oral ministrations.
Rafael ate you like a starved man. He gave everything he had to make you come on his face. He felt you tensed against him, your thigh held him in place. You cried his name, your nails on his scalp. He swallowed everything you had to give him.
“Wow-- fucking wow,” you chuckled as you tried to catch your breath.
“I know, I get that a lot,” he chuckled too, kissing you softly.
“Shut up, and fuck me now,”
“Hmm… someone’s desperate for my cock?”
“I’ve never been this turned on, Rafael. What did you do to me?”
“Ever had an orgasm from someone’s mouth?”
“Nah-- and I don’t want to talk about it. Just get inside me, please,”
He kissed you passionately again, and got on top of you. You felt his hard cock against your stomach, before he lined himself with you. “Do you want it?” he wanted you to beg. “How much do you want my cock, hermosa?”
“So much!” you tried to make his cock slide into you but Rafael held you still, “Please, Rafael. I want you-- I want you inside me,”
He didn’t need more. He slid into you in one slow motion. You both gasped at the feeling. His size hurt a little at first but you’re used to keep a straight face during sex. But somehow, Rafael felt it. “Are you okay?” He asked, not moving.
“Just getting used to your size,” you giggled.
“Lo siento, I got carried away. Let me—“
He tried to pull out off you but your hands held onto his ass, “don’t you dare go away, Barba,” he giggled and stayed deep inside you.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered before kissing you.
When you gave him permission to move, he started slow. He needed to control his pleasure. It was deep and slow, and every sound you made was music to his ear. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hand above your head, kissing you roughly. “Do you want to switch positions?” You asked, out of nowhere.
“Fuck no. I wanna see your face while I make you come,”
For a moment, he was self conscious of what was going on. Whatever sex was with your husband, it was mostly to pleasure that bastard. He probably didn’t care much about you during sex, about what pleased you, about your kinks if you have some. This might be his only night with you, and he wants you to know what real sex and pleasure are.
When he felt you were close to your orgasm, he quickly pulled out and buried two fingers into your pussy. You didn’t have time to react about the sudden changes, you cum - for the second time - hard on his fingers.
“Why the hell did you pull out?” You asked, confused, as you tried to catch your breath.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he said with a malicious smile. He kissed you again, taking his time - to be fair, he’s mostly trying to calm himself down - to plant kisses all over you, worshipping your perfect body.
“Rafael, what the—“ you gasped. His face was between your legs again. His tongue found its way easily to your most sensitive spot. You were worn down, but so sensitive a third orgasm wasn’t far away. But you pulled his hair to make him stop. You saw something in his eyes. “Someone likes to get his hair pulled,” you giggled.
“I didn’t know actually, but yeah,” he licked his lips, “However, if you pull my face away from your pussy again, I’ll have to punish you,”
His words, the way he talks to you sends something into you. Something you ever felt before. Maybe you’re into punishment. And dirty talk. Maybe you aren’t bad in bed, you just weren’t with the right person.
Rafael was about to go back at it again, but your voice stopped him. “I want to go down on you,”
“You will, babygirl. For now, it’s about you,”
He did pull a third orgasm out of you. He’s so fucking talented with his tongue and fingers. He knows what to do, when to do it. “You’ll be the death of me,” you said, trying again to catch your breath, tiredly playing with his chest hair.
“Sounds good,” he buried his face in your neck and marked you. He didn’t care about tomorrow, about what your husband might say when he sees it. Tonight, you’re his and no one else’s. “Do you really want to suck my cock or do you feel like you have to?” He asked, his eyes locked into yours.
“I want to,” you eagerly answered, regaining some strength suddenly.
You sat up while Rafael laid down on his back. You took his cock in your hand, his hips jerking at the feeling. He probably won’t last long. But he can still recover and do it all over again. “You okay?” He asked, as you were taking a long moment just looking and stroking his length.
“Yeah,” you shyly smiled, “Just promise me something, please?”
He would promise you the fucking universe. “Tell me?”
“If—if I’m not good, just make me stop, okay? Don’t blame me after,”
Rafael saw tears in your eyes. He immediately grabbed you and pulled you next to him. His erection can wait. He softly kissed your cheeks and lips. “I’m not...him,” he said, “Like I said earlier, it’s about the connection between two persons. I feel connected to you, do you feel the same?”
You nodded, trying to stop your tears. “That’s all that matters. You could break my penis, sending me to the ER, I’d thank you for it,”
He felt proud when you laughed, he kissed you. He could never get enough of your lips. “I trust you, Y/N. Only thing I don’t want is you going down on me just because you feel like you have to,”
“I want to suck you off, Rafael,” you purred in his ear after a moment.
His cock softened during that talk, but it reacted to that. You kissed his body, trailing your way down to his penis. You licked the tip, tasting some pre-cum. You looked at him to catch his reactions, but you saw nothing but desire and pleasure. When he was painfully hard, you took him in your mouth. Rafael almost came right here and there, it took everything he had not to. You slowly suck his cock, until you quicken the rhythm. “You’re so—good, baby. You know how to use that mouth,” he praised you. When he saw you smiling against his length, he made a mental note about you loving to be praised.
You cupped his balls in your hand, and took him all the way down your throat, “I’m gonna—amor, fuck! I’m gonna cum,” he expected you to pull away but instead, you kept the pace until Rafael came hard in your month, chanting your name. He didn’t know he could be this loud. You made a show of swallowing every drop of him. “Mierda,” he muttered, drying his sweating forehead with the back of his hand.
“Can men fake orgasm? Cause you were fucking loud,” you giggled before kissing him.
“Shut up, that was—amazing,” he looked deep inside your eyes. “You are amazing, Y/N,”
He didn’t have time to fuck you again, you both quickly fell asleep after.
Much to Rafael’s surprise, he woke up to the warmth of your mouth around his cock. He had a wide smile when he saw your eyes full of desire, while your mouth was perfectly sucking on his cock. He lazily grabbed your hair, giving a few thrusts. But he didn’t know how you’d feel about facefuck so he let you lead. It didn’t take long until he came down your throat again, still as loud as a few hours prior. “You will be the death of me,”
He invited you in the shower so he could finally fuck you properly. When you came on his cock, your walls clenching around his length, it was the most beautiful feeling in the world.
This couldn’t be a one night stand. There’s a connection, either of you can deny. He will spend weeks, months, even years to show you he’s worth an Elias or any other man.
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A Ringing Dilemma
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Derek Morgan x Male!Reader
Summary: Derek is having trouble with stuff, luckily Penelope Garcia is to the rescue!
Word Count: 1,101
Request: Can I please have a criminal minds one? Where Derek Morgan (or Spencer reid!) Is stressing about how to get a ring for the m!reader- engagement ring- and how to surprise them but since they work together, it's hard?
A/n: Didn’t think I would be able to write something like this, but I hope you enjoy this
“How’s the hunt going?”
Derek sighs, his hands support his head as he looks stress in his office, looking up at Penelope. She gives him a sympathetic smile, knowing that is a look of a man who’s seen rejection. He shakes his head, almost depressed like.
“No luck, it’s hard to get around (y/n), he’s just too observant!” Derek hits his head on the desk, groaning, “Why did I have to fall in love with a profiler.”
“Because he’s a charming handsome man who swept you off your feet more so than any other girl you have encounter?” Penelope asked as Derek looked up at her with despaired eyes.
“Baby girl, just please help me out here, I don’t know what he’ll like or what type of rock he’ll even like.”
“Okay, hun,” she spoke with amusement, closing the door and coming around to sit next to him, “What colour does he like? Or what is his birth stone?”
“I don’t know birthdays had birthstones.”
Penelope sighs, “Men,” she muttered under her breath, knowing your birthday anyway and typing in a male engagement ring with your birth stone in the ring.
There were many types, smaller stones that were wrapped within the ring. Knowing you, you wouldn’t want a ring that had the rock on show, you would prefer something that was embedded within the ring.
“Silver or gold? Now, remember gold rings are more expensive, so depending on your price range and how much you guys are going to spend on your wedding and honeymoon - I would say chose carefully.”
Morgan looked at her with awe, profiler or not, he was a little clueless and loss with any knowledge with engagement rings. No-one really teaches you what to look for when buying them, but of course, people who wear rings more often would have a bigger idea on the situation. That being Garcia in this situation.
“I’d like silver, I don’t want anything too flashy for him.”
“Oh hun,” Garcia says, “You forget your boyfriend is a flashy guy.”
How can Derek forget that about you? You were one of the loudest people he know, if not the loudest. If you were allowed, you would come to work in loud colours. After all, you like wearing bright colours because you weren’t afraid of standing out. Whilst Garcia likes eccentric clothing, you have to meet people and come off as professional as an FBI agent.
But, outside work, you would wear different colours. Derek knows you have the whole rainbow spectrum in pants and cardigans, you have two tone pants alongside with your normal black jeans. Still, you had some soft pastel sweaters, button up shirts. He knows for a fact that you haven’t run out on outfits, and you always looked on point in them.
You never had a set aesthetic on fashion. One day you could wear somewhat feminine clothing, baggy clothing, tight clothing, you can pull off a skater look well just as well as a grunge look. It’s always a bet within a team to see what you’ll be wearing if they ever run into you out of work.
“If anything (Y/n) might ask for platinum wedding bands,” Garcia says as Morgan raised an eyebrow, “Not as pricey, but not commonly asked for.”
“Well, that’s all great and that, but how am I suppose to pick it up?” Morgan asked, “I can’t exactly sneak off and lie to him, he’ll see right through me.”
“I’ll do the talking, you underestimate how I can do things around you sneaky profilers,” Garcia says, patting him on the shoulder, “Tomorrow’s lunch break, luckily it’s an hour slot so we have enough time to get a quick bite and go to the jewellery shop.”
“You’re an angel.”
“Don’t mention it, hot stuff,” Garcia winks, deleting history and closing the tab, before looking at her work best friend, “The real question is how you’re going to propose and have him really surprised.”
“Aw, fuck,” Derek rubbed his face, Garcia could tell that he was too wrapped up in thought about the ring that he hasn’t put much thought about how he would pop the question.
“And, you young man is not going to propose (Y/n) in a dire situation. I want him to remember the proposal, something you two can tell the kids, not something that’s traumatic and you did it out of panic.”
“Yeah,” Derek sighs wistfully, “I want it great, something he’ll cherish forever.”
“Well, you keep thinking about it? You’re in no rush to do it, and do it something associated with something you both enjoy. Don’t do it on significant days, anniversaries and birthdays. Christmas is too far away as well as New Years.”
“Wait, why not on our anniversary or his birthday?” The agent asked in confusion, he doesn’t see anything wrong with proposing on those days.
“My opinion, it’s tacky and lazy to not get a gift, whilst it is endearing - I’m not a fan. Universal opinion, a bit overdone, overrated, somewhat expected.”
“Right got it,” Derek sighs and sits back in his seat, sighing, “I can somewhat relax.”
There was a knock on the door then your head popping in, a smile plastered on your face upon seeing your boyfriend. Derek looks at you, all his stress momentarily washes away.
“Hey Der, are you coming out soon or you’re staying longer here?”
Derek looks at the time, not realising it’s the time to get home, he looks back at you, “I’ll be out there in ten minutes.”
You nodded before casting your eyes at the tech analyst, “Alright, you coming as well Pen?”
“Yup just got to grab my stuff,” The woman smiles at you, just as bright.
You give them thumbs up, “Alright, we’ll be waiting by the doors.”
You close the door as Derek looks at his best friend, before talking after a minute or two of silence, “He wouldn’t have heard the conversation?”
“Calm down, Derek, I don’t think he would have.”
“But-”
“Hush with you now, up you get, don’t want to keep the others waiting.”
Sure, some of his worries are elevated, but he can’t help feel the nervousness bubble through his stomach. It’s a feeling he’s got to get used to until the moment arrives, he dreads how well he can hide that away from you.
Maybe he could get the team on his secret to help him out, but even that is a task in itself to pull them to the side without being caught by you. This was a harder challenge than he thought.
#derek morgan#derek morgan imagine#derek morgan x male reader#x male reader#Criminal Minds#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds x male reader
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body & blood — pjm (m)
pairing | jimin x reader
genre | angst, smut, vampire!au, high society!au, mutual pining!au
word count | 5.5K
synopsis | Jimin has been in love with you for the past century, but ever since you’ve been betrothed, he can’t help but feel guilty.
warning | biting, blood, gore. smut: body worship, penetration, unsafe sex
“I don’t think I can do this.”
“What do you mean? It’s literally been decided for a couple decades now.”
Jimin groaned and dropped his head in his hands. Taehyung glanced around the dark walls of the stone gazebo for any prying eyes before clearing his throat.
“Jimin, look,” Taehyung paused as he caught sight of a few guests greeting each other by the decorative iron gate, cloaks hiding their figures from the waning dusk. He coaxed Jimin more into the shadows before continuing. “You guys don’t have to get along at first; it’s normal. You’re going to be stuck together for the next millennium so no one is going to expect you guys to love each other.”
“But that’s what I want, Taehyung!” Jimin lamented as he raised his head, “I’ve had a crush on her for the last century, and now that we’ve been arranged it’s like—I don’t want her to be stuck with me.”
Taehyung sighed but patted Jimin’s arm empathetically. “Well you have time on your side. She’ll have to get used to you at some point.”
Jimin wailed again as Taehyung heard sharp footfalls down the stone steps to their left before he saw Jungkook appear, his eyes glowing red as he leaned against a column.
“Are you guys ready? Your dad’s getting impatient, Jimin.” Jimin felt his cold blood freeze in his veins as he looked between his two lifelong friends.
“Why? The sun hasn’t even fully set yet!”
“Most of the guests are here already; who would miss the union of the two highest-standing vampires’ offspring?”
Jimin cried in his head that he wished everyone would have missed it, but he kept his mouth shut; instead, Jimin pressed his lips together anxiously. “How does she look?”
Jungkook chuckled, his fanged teeth shining in the pale light emitting from the lantern above. “She looks beautiful, as always; when you stop being a baby bat then you can catch a glimpse of her for yourself.”
Jimin scowled lightly but still didn’t move, simply crossing his arms and looking up at the large cathedral to their right. Taehyung looked down and sighed again. “Jimin, why do you think she hates you? You’re not a burden. Maybe you’ve been too shy to talk to her for the past decade because of your betrothal, but we still talk to her; she doesn’t hate you.”
“Well she will. We’re being married against our will. She’s probably disgusted at me and my family name.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes and guffawed. “When has it ever seemed like she hated the idea?” Jimin opened his mouth to list times where you seemed even slightly irritated by him, but Jungkook interrupted him. “She never argued with her parents about the betrothal, and for Chris—“ he choked on the holy word and coughed, rephrasing, “for Dracula’s sake, she’s standing up there with your family waiting for you.”
Jimin warily eyed the peaks of the cross at the top of the church before meeting Jungkook’s eye, “she’s been ignoring me since.”
“Correction,” Taehyung butted in, his gaze pointed and brows raised, “you’ve been ignoring her since.”
Jimin’s eyes widened, “I have not been—“
“You’ve been staring at her love struck for the past hundred years, Jimin! You’re so afraid of rejection that you’ve been limiting contact with her; all she wants is to talk to you, and you refuse to open up!” Jungkook exasperatedly cried.
Jimin finally turned around in a flurry of motion, an expression of anguish and fear upon his face. “She doesn’t want to be with me! And even if she does now, she won’t after we’re married because she’ll see that I don’t live up to my family name or our pure blood—“
“Jimin, I have been hearing this for the past fifty years so if you don’t get up there now, I will make you.” Taehyung cut him off, but his voice was not affectionate and understanding like before; this one was curt and low like a growl, fitting to the warning he gave. Even Jungkook had stiffened; when Taehyung made a threat, he promised to keep it.
Jimin dropped his hands to his side and looked at his best friend helplessly. He had been friends with the boy since the bubonic plague. Their bond strengthened into the age of colonization until they finally reached the modern times of the 21st century—Jimin always thought the Victorian age had suited Taehyung best—but Jimin had learned one thing about Taehyung through all the growing pains; Taehyung always meant well.
Jimin sucked in his breath. If Taehyung thought this was good for him—that he was overthinking it all—then maybe he was, and maybe things would work out.
Jimin met Taehyung’s focused red eyes before drifting to Jungkook’s curious, waiting ones. Finally, he exhaled. “Okay. I’m ready.” Taehyung closed his eyes and sighed as he relaxed before he ushered Jimin down the gazebo steps.
Jungkook took the lead at Taehyung’s nod, who began to adjust Jimin’s suit and fix his black hair into a neat position as they ascended the steps. Jimin thought his undead heart might just start beating.
Since they were cursed by God, they couldn’t truly enter the church and hold a marriage service, so instead they had set up in the gardens just outside, so that the cathedral’s magnificence could act as a backdrop to the night’s ceremony.
“We’re behind schedule,” Jungkook warned over his shoulder as they reached the top of the steps. Instantly, all of the guests turned on their benches to focus on them with their haunting scarlet gazes. Jimin froze, but Jungkook and Taehyung patted his back roughly as they ducked to the side to take their spot by the pedestal.
Jimin forced himself to move his legs and advance towards the altar before his father could become angrier by his impunctuality and fear. He kept his gaze away from the front—away from you—and he held his breath as he took in each bench he passed.
Well, there were Taehyung’s parents; they owned a prosperous tobacco farm from when Jamestown had been established, and their family business was still going strong. And to his right were the Jungs, who had been gifted metalworkers who, during the medieval age, used to make armor and weaponry but now carved delicate and beautiful jewelry. He ticked off each powerful family in his head as he passed each row, and when he made it to the pedestal, he forced himself to step up.
Now, Jimin had to look up, and he was terrified. He swallowed harshly and lifted his gaze; first to his best men, but at Taehyung’s pointed glare, he switched his gaze to what was before him and his breath hitched in his throat.
You were waiting before the altar—or, moreso his father’s supposed resting place, but since his father was undead it was better suited as an altar—with the closest they had to a priest beside you. And the only thing coming to Jimin’s blank mind was that you were beautiful. You were wearing something akin to a wedding dress—white, even though no vampire was pure—but it appeared from the past century, old and lacy with long billowing sleeves and a long train. You peered at him with red eyes and a red lip behind a thin veil, your hair pulled back into a low bun at the nape of your neck. With how many compliments Jimin received about his appearance, he still felt like he could never compare his beauty to your own.
Jimin nearly stumbled as he came to stand across from you, and although his limbs moved slowly, his mind raced a mile a minute.
You looked up at Jimin under your lashes and though your face was cold, you offered a soft simper that Jimin questioned was even real. The priestly man before the both of you cleared his throat; he could not hold a bible in his hands without being burned, so he seemed to speak from memory or from his own variation.
“We gather here today to witness the union of two children of the night; the two purest of our breed. They have been betrothed in order to strengthen the blood of our creation; it is this union that will mark the beginning of a new age.”
Jimin found it hard to swallow as he listened to the man’s words, but his eyes never strayed from you. He knew this marriage was not upon love—marriage between vampires, for how long they lasted, never did—but he couldn’t help but wish that maybe you saw this as more than a kind of business deal.
“Jimin, son of the Parks, one of the first of the pureblooded vampires: do you accept this woman to be your wife?”
You dropped your gaze from the preacher to meet his, and Jimin found your piercing gaze to be like knives that struck him to where he stood, rendering him useless; your gaze was not hostile, but they were deep, and that almost scared Jimin more. “I do.”
“And do you, matron of the night, accept this man to be your husband?”
And the vibrancy of your gaze sent chills down his spine. “I do.”
The preacher made a quick motion of his hand and Taehyung stepped up from the side to present a set of gold rings to the man. Jimin instantly recognized them as the family heirlooms of his family, the rings that had been passed down to each couple as they married for the last six eras. Jimin had little time to ponder what his parents wore now instead as the man handed the fuller band to you.
You gingerly lifted the ring so that the arriving moonlight could gaze upon it and reflect its beauty and shine before you lowered a hand to grasp Jimin’s. He jerked slightly in surprise, but you tightened your hold to raise his hand so it was between both of your chests. As you slipped the ring upon his third left finger, you fluttered your gaze to his, and Jimin felt as if he could die right then, if he weren’t undead, of course.
You kept a tight hold upon your conjoined hands, as the preacher handed Jimin the other gold ring with a beautiful diamond built into it. Jimin stared at it in a daze for a minute before he stretched out to find your free hand. You brought it up with ease, but within his palm it shook. You steadied it gently and Jimin’s eyes darted to yours. Again, they gave nothing away; you just looked upon him with a cool gaze of intrigue. Jimin took a deep breath before he let the ring glide around your own finger. Now, both of your hands were clasped between where your unbeating hearts lied.
The preacher made no cue, but now Jungkook stepped forward. From his belt he produced a thin, silver knife engraved in old Latin, with gemstones lining the hilt. Jimin knew this part.
The man accepted it and without a word, both you and Jimin opened your left hands so your palms faced upwards.
He did not hesitate and promptly sliced open the skin of both of your palms. Blood came to the surface instantly, and neither of you wasted time in clasping each other’s hands tightly, so that your blood mixed.
“Now their blood has been joined; in body and soul, these children have been wed. May they spend the rest of eternity together, till death do they part.” As if to mark the end of the ceremony, your bonded blood pooled within your hands and trailed along your skin before splattering upon the cobblestone in large, red specks.
Jimin let his eyes trace up your arm to the curve of your jaw till he let himself meet your eyes once more. They were entrancing; you already had your eyes set upon him, and he let his gaze linger as the guests began to mingle and leave the garden to retire back to his parents’ home for the banquet.
Jimin knew in regular human weddings, the ceremony was sealed with a kiss. Jimin wondered now what it would be like to kiss you, to feel your soft, red lips meld against his, to feel you whisper against his own. And even though you were now married, he felt like he didn’t have the right to do so.
He tore his hazy gaze away from your own and peeled his hand away as well; by now, the blood had begun to dry and was oddly sticky, as if unwilling to let you separate and end the wedding. Jimin winced as he looked upon his palm; the wound had already begun to heal, leaving behind a raised line where the blade had cut. Jimin closed his fist and offered you a tight smile.
You blinked at him, as if you yourself were also starting to realize the reality of your relationship and that his blood was now flowing within you. You delicately extended your hand outwards, and Jimin instinctively accepted it with his unmarked hand. He helped you step down from the pedestal, and the ground seemed to be unsteady beneath you now as you leaned into his side.
Jimin uneasily remembered his prior fears, so he subtly stepped away once you found your footing. He missed the way you looked at him wistfully as he guided you out of the garden and walked you to his family home, your new home. Would he never return the affection you held for him? Would he forever keep his distance, like he did for the past decade? You had never before desired so terribly the touch of another being.
The walk to his family’s home was silent, and not necessarily pleasant. You both snuck each other glances, but neither spoke a word of it; neither of you seemed to be so sure what they meant. Once you arrived, there were cheers of congratulations that greeted you and enveloped you in its pride. You sent back smiles of thanks, but once sat at the head table, both of your expressions were blank.
There was no true joy for either of you. The congratulations was mainly for both of your parents, for their tactful union of the purest blood. It wasn’t happiness based on love and emotion, simply strategy.
And so you sat in polite silence. You both drank the wine from your glasses and drank the blood from the lamb presented on your plates. Satisfied, you then carefully threw the meat to the bloodhounds that sat amongst your feet; the beasts greedily accepted the lamb and began to tear through the muscle, snapping the bones within with ease.
You took another sip of your wine and looked upon your new husband; Jimin refused to meet your gaze, instead studying the group of noble vampires who mingled before you. You placed down your glass with resolve; you could not live for eternity beside this man if it would be like this.
You stood and softly brushed your hand upon Jimin’s shoulder so he was forced to gaze upon you, but you only met his gaze mysteriously before ducking out of the banquet hall. No one seemed to notice the newlyweds’ absence as Jimin followed you in a hurried sense of curiosity.
You had begun to explore his family’s gothic home, and you chose not to respond to Jimin’s hushed call for you. With no response, Jimin was left to reluctantly follow and fall into step beside you. He must have realized that he would have to wait for when you were ready, and so he fell silent as he watched you study the paintings of his ancestors and the antiques.
It wasn’t until you were thoroughly lost and deeply satisfied with your search that you spoke, your voice soft, mellow.
“I’m glad it was you.”
Jimin’s eyes widened and he snapped his neck to look at you directly, but you had still not taken your gaze off of the wall. Your face began to glow a warm yellow as you approached another wall light at a leisurely pace, but Jimin felt as if you were glowing from within. After all, this was the first time you had directly talked to him for the last ten years. Whether that was his or your fault, he didn’t want to claim.
When he failed to respond to you, you finally turned your head so your eyes could meet his. Instantly, the closer half of your face fell into a blue shadow, and Jimin’s breath hitched at your narrowing gaze. “Did you not hear me or do you not reciprocate?”
“I—“ Jimin fumbled over his words; he couldn’t think straight around you. What were you thinking? What was appropriate? “I heard.”
Finally, you halted in the center of the hall. He couldn’t help but think that you seemed to replicate a picture of his great grandmother in her own wedding dress on the wall behind you, her expression stern and bouquet limp in her hands. Or maybe you were more akin to a ghost as your figure swayed in the luminosity of the moonlight, shining on your pale skin as if it were a pearl and rendering the lace of your gown transparent.
Jimin didn’t seem to have enough time to ponder as you frowned and your firm voice filtered through his ears again. “Did you not wish to be wed to me?”
He choked. Where did you get that idea? “Not at all!” He eyed you incredulously before he took in your appearance; you looked so bitter as you wrung your hands, as if you were sure he didn’t want to be with you. He couldn’t bear to see you as such, so anguished, and so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. You didn’t interrupt him as he gathered his thoughts; you simply watched him with a guarded sense of hope.
Jimin, for once, let go of all his fears and doubts; if he had guessed wrong, then you could spend the rest of your marriage hating him. As long as he came clean, he could live with it.
He finally opened his eyes and let out a long, drawn out sigh. His eyes trailed to you and you seemed to accept the tired yet emotional intensity in their depths, as if he was too tired to keep anything from you anymore. Again he sighed; a soft, lovesick sigh as he let himself openly admire you as he admitted, “Truly, I’ve wished to be wed to you for as long as I’ve lived.”
You stiffened. Your hands clenched each other at the base of your torso and your lips were taut, but your eyes never left his own, searching for some kind of clue that he was being untrue. “You have not so much as dared look at me for the past ten years.”
“I have,” Jimin countered without missing a beat. Where was this confidence coming from? He took a cautious step closer to you and he bit his lip. “I’ve fancied you from afar for a century; it was the engagement that terrified me enough to pull away.”
“Why?” You breathed, and your voice cracked as you felt his hand slip into yours. “What would terrify you about our betrothal? Wouldn’t that make you happy?” Tears began to prick at your eyes.
“It would,” he carefully said, his eyes peeking up at yours as he drew closer. You could feel his breath fan across your face as he whispered, “but this betrothal wasn’t made between us. It wasn’t for us.”
You felt Jimin’s other hand gingerly wipe a stray tear from your cheek, but you never looked away from his red eyes as you understood, your lips parting. “Do you wish it was a marriage sealed with a kiss instead of blood?”
And Jimin inhaled sharply as he rested his hand upon your cheek to caress it. He tilted his head so your lips lingered an inch away from his. “Yes,” your hand tightened around his, “I do.” And then he pressed his lips to yours.
It was not hasty or rushed at your sudden confessions, but rather slow and gentle, simply relishing in the feeling of each other’s lips against your own. After all, you did have all the time in the world.
It was a strange change, for as long as you’ve lived, you have never indulged in such feelings with another vampire. It was common for vampires to fool around with humans as they came of age, but moreso because it was an easy way to get humans to let their guard down enough to drink their blood. But to kiss without ulterior motives, to kiss based on emotion, was foreign to your race. But it was a pleasant change, you now knew for certain as you felt Jimin’s plush lips slip against your own, his fangs gently nipping at your lower lip.
You raised your arms from your sides so you could glide them along his shoulders, where they then settled on either side of his neck to hold him close to you with gentle caresses. Jimin was still slow in his movements as he mimicked your sentiments to drape his own arms over your waist, his hands firmly planting themselves on the small of your back.
Though your tears had dried, you still felt the pricking sensation at the corners of your eyes as you separated. You both kept your eyes closed as you breathed together, your noses brushing against each other. When your eyes did flutter open, you felt swallowed by the adoration in Jimin’s gaze. You mindlessly let your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, and his own grip tightened upon you as a cloud passed before the moon, casting you both in shadow and the minimal yellow glow of the wall lights.
In the darkness, Jimin’s red eyes seemed to shine even more radiantly, pulling you to him like a lighthouse pulled in ships at sea. And it was unspoken as you disentangled yourselves enough for him to grab your hand and guide you behind him, farther into the maze of the gothic home.
He escorted you into his bedroom, and the moon seemed to know what your plan was as it beamed upon the bed, the white sheets gleaming under its scrutiny. Jimin’s touch was gentle as he pulled you towards him so your fronts were flush against each other, and he caught both your wrists within his hold as he chased your lips.
This time, the kiss was a little firmer, proving that you were there and he was true. His hands seared their way down your forearms and under the billowing sleeves of your dress. It seemed to prove as another hindrance as Jimin dragged his lips below your jaw, but could not venture farther behind the turtleneck collar.
Jimin exhaled audibly through his nose, but he carefully turned you around. You complied and waited with bated breath as you heard the tight buttons down your spine begin to pop open, one by one. The prickling sensation of each was quickly replaced by his pillow-y lips, and he must have felt the shiver that traveled down your spine in the same direction his butterfly kisses were headed. His hands crawled up your shoulder blades as his lips explored, and they began to peel the dress off your shoulders. And as his lips met the curve at the base of your spine, the rest of your dress followed suit as it bunched you around your hips. You heard Jimin’s quiet chuckle but you were too focused for blood to rush to your cheeks. Jimin smoothly drew the dress the rest of the way down the expanse of your legs, and he knelt so it was easier for you to step out of it.
The second you were fully free of the gown, you found yourself gracefully sat upon the edge of the bed. Jimin’s eyes glimmered as he took you in, as if he still couldn’t believe that he was the one you chose to accept as not only your husband, but as your lover. To the both of you, that made all the difference.
Something seemed to burn within him suddenly, and he tore off his overcoat and hastily unbuttoned his dress shirt. You greedily took in the sight of his exposed and toned skin, and you couldn’t wait to let your hands explore it much the same as your eyes did. His chest rose up and down rapidly, as if gulping for air as he met your gaze heatedly again.
Though, you took note, he had not risen from his knelt position yet; instead, he moved closer to you and gently cupped your heel within his palm. Just like at the wedding, you simply studied him with a calm gaze of curiosity; you and Jimin were too sure of each other now to be ashamed.
Jimin kept his gaze trained upon yours as he lowered his lips to caress your ankle. He lowered his eyes as he brushed his lips upwards, under your calf and briefly mouthing at your knee before traveling along your inner thigh. Your hands found their place in his hair now, gently tugging his attention from your leg back to your face. His pupils were dilated and you were sure yours were blown just as wide, from lust and devotion. Your hand skimmed down over his cheek until you reached the lips he had just worshiped you with. You thumbed at the slowly reddening skin, softly pulling his bottom lip down until it slipped back into place.
Jimin let out a shaky breath before he began to stand up, pushing you down into the bed in the process till he loomed over you and between your legs. Again, it felt as if the wind had been knocked out of your lungs as you admired Jimin’s flushed cheeks and his undoing. You went to cup his cheeks in your hands, but Jimin’s will was stronger than your own as he grasped the hand over his mouth and pulled it outwards.
You were left to watch as his attention fell upon your conjoined hands, your palm upwards. His eyes studied the matching scar from the blade in silence with a sort of reverence as he stroked it softly. He then lowered his head and—just as he did to your leg—he pressed a light kiss upon it. He took the gentle, meaningful pecks down the extent of your arm, the hollow of your elbow, and up to your shoulder till his dark hair tickled your jaw.
You let him continue his ministrations in silence, for you trusted Jimin; Jimin had never been one to be dishonest or disreputable, for the hundreds of years you had known him. And now, he was your husband, even closer than so; Jimin was to be your other half, whether your kind realized that or not.
You closed your eyes as Jimin traveled from your collarbone to the curvature of your throat, where he had wanted to be before when your dress was in the way. He planted another loving kiss upon your neck before you felt his fangs prick your skin. Your eyes snapped open and widened as he bit you and began to drink a small amount of your blood.
You couldn’t recall a time when a vampire had bit another; there was no need. Blood was a food source, and was only substantial when taken from a living being. You were not alarmed for it was only Jimin, and the bite ended nearly as soon as he began, but it still left you perplexed.
As Jimin pulled away and dislodged his fangs, he let out a low groan in the quiet of the room, his hands subconsciously tightening around your forearms.
You kept your gaze trained on the ceiling instead of straining yourself to see him below your jaw, and you stretched your neck subtly, the muscles within flexing. “How was it?”
Jimin chuckled lightly, and it tickled your throat. “Your blood is delectable.”
You raised a brow and let out a quiet, airy laugh. “Truly? Better than the lamb’s at dinner? Better than a young mundane woman’s?”
Jimin lifted himself now, and the humor within you died at the seriousness and intimacy of his gaze as he leveled his face with yours. “Truly,” his bangs skimmed along your forehead as his eyes bore into yours, causing your throat to go dry. His eyes lidded as he lowered himself, his lips moving against yours as he whispered, “It is sweet.” And once more, the heavens graced you by having his lips against yours.
It was one thing to give your blood in union with a vampire, but it was another to give your body. Your own moved against his without either of you needing to consciously think about it, your bodies naturally in sync to reach an end goal of ecstasy. Jimin’s hands loosened around your arms to push your legs farther aside, and you took the chance to trace along his ribs, to caress where his abdomen and chest met.
Jimin separated from you with a gasp, and he hastily began to kiss down the length of your sternum and between the thin, lacey band of your bra. He pecked the top of your stomach before he pulled away fully, his chest heaving and skin just as sweaty as yours. He pulled your panties down the expanse of your legs before he undid his belt and pushed his trousers down to his knees to discard of them off the side of the bed.
Once there were no more barriers, Jimin lunged back over you with a new vigor to connect your lips harshly. The air of intimacy had shifted from soft and unbelieving to passionate and desperate; you didn’t have a true preference between either as he settled his elbows on either side of your head and entered you.
Your back arched and hands flew to his shoulder blades as you tried to stifle a low moan. Jimin hungrily accepted your sounds with his unforgiving kiss, and they seemed to act as encouragement for him to pick up a quick pace. Though it seemed merciless in action, you knew Jimin was ardent and tender; your pleasure was his goal in his bruising pace.
You kept your lips pressed together firmly for the duration of your race to finish, and your hands were frantic on each other, taking hold of whatever heated skin you could touch.
Your finally gasped and your legs tightened around Jimin’s middle, keeping him tight against your core. Your hands nearly choked Jimin by their strength around the back of his neck, and he managed to open his bleary eyes enough to witness your pleasure. He moaned at the sight and feeling of you pulling him in, and his own sounds grew higher in pitch and in frequency before he himself let go, his hands coming to seize your hair in his grasp as he scrunched his eyes tight.
You both stayed in place for a few moments to catch your breath, your eyes staring into each other’s depths as your chests pressed together with every heave. With a soft groan, Jimin separated himself from you enough to give you room. He searched around the vicinity of the bed for anything to clean you off with, but when it turned up futile, he reluctantly pulled up the sheets and dragged it across your inner thighs to wipe off any of his release mixed with your own; you were both too hot for the sheet anyways.
He settled back down beside you with a sighed huff, and you instantly curled into his side so your head was upon his chest; instinctively, his own arm found its way around you to keep you close.
You both stared out the window at the moon who, since you were married earlier that evening, regarded you with its silent approval. Neither of you spoke, and Jimin lowered his head enough to place a soft kiss to the crown of your head.
“I’m glad it was you.”
Your shoulders stiffened slightly as you turned over them to meet his gaze again. It was easy to get lost in his glowing eyes, for they told of an overflowing amount of emotion for you that would scare any other vampire.
You chose not to reply with words, instead lidding your gaze and gently pressing your lips to his like you did in the hallway; soft, plush, slow—the simple feeling of each other together.
To the rest of your vampire clan, your wedding was only another successful union of blood.
But to you, you and Jimin knew that your wedding was only sealed by a kiss.
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@minsprings said “vampires” and I lost it
#jimin smut#bts smut#jimin x reader#jimin fanfic#bts fanfic#bts#jimin#bts fanfiction#jimin fanfiction#bts fic#jimin fic#jimin fluff#jimin angst#bts fluff#bts angst#bts scenarios#jimin scenarios#body and blood#cinanamon
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Peggy bumps into Ms. Fry while she and steve are grocery shopping (maybe Peggy's noticeably pregnant, and she's wearing her wedding ring on a chain around her neck because of swollen fingers, or something like that) and miss fry starts scolding her for her 'poor life choices,' seeing a baby bump and no ring, until steve comes back from grabbing something across the store and they set the record straight
Nonny, I love this so much. I’m gonna be honest, I forgot who Ms. Fry was and had to look her up and have never written her before so bear with me? This is so not gonna be what you want. I just...couldn’t stop writing.
Insert Steve works at the SSR
--
The day that her wedding ring became too small for her swollen fingers was a day Peggy didn’t like to remember. It was a simple gold wedding band with sapphire blue stones right dab in the middle. It was elegant, yet simple, and everything Peggy could’ve wanted. She didn’t care much for jewelry and didn’t care if Steve asked her to marry her with just a piece of twine or even nothing in his hand.
She would’ve said yes either way.
It was Steve who suggested they put it on a chain, so she could still have it near her while at work. It felt odd not having it on her hand, missing the weight of it, but she felt grateful for her fingers to be free while she poured over the stacks of files the SSR boys kept dropping off thanks to officially being taken off of field missions by no more than Phillips himself.
The man had come down from DC to discuss things with her, taking over as Chief of their simple office, and causing much ruckus and rifling through the workplace. Rumors of the SSR being disbanded started to take place, rumors Peggy ignored.
Agents like Thompson and Sousa got to see first hand how just Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter got along. Meaning there were many shouting matches between them, at one point Peggy had threatened to throw Phillips out of the office himself. The entire office had sat and watched their fight go down, making bets on when Carter was going to be sacked or not until Phillips broke out into a rare smile and laughed at her.
It was odd, to see such a chiseled and grave man from all he’s witnessed to laugh at her like that. And for Carter not to get angry and laugh right back.
There were many rumors on favoritism and Peggy didn’t bother to shoot them down. Phillips did favor her but not for what laid between her legs, for the fact she did her damn job, and two times as better as any seasoned agent.
Of course, none of them would believe that.
“Go home,” Phillips sighed at her for an unkempt time that day. He stood in front of her desk, wafting a freshly brewed cup of coffee in her face.
Peggy scowled at him, her eyes narrowed. She knew she looked like crap. Morning sickness meant she’d spent a good portion of the daily debriefing in the toilet and had to be caught up by Rose. Her face was pale and sheen with sweat, her normally poised hair was done in a hasty bun on the nape of her neck to keep it out of the way.
And her clothes, something so simple and precious to her, that made the point of the matter that she was a woman and she wasn’t going to let any others treat her different. Due to being heavily pregnant with what the doctor assumed were multiples, she’d been forced to adjust many of her outfits. Ana had struggled to adapt so quickly too, but even then she couldn’t keep up.
Steve, her, and even Howard had suspicions on if this was multiples or because of the serum.
Point is, Peggy was still cursing Steve’s name with the infant hit the right spot on her bladder.
She’d been forced to wear a hastily put-together outfit that did nothing for her figure and the lack of either time or ability to keep up her appearance showed.
And what really showed as her face turned a shade of green from the coffee wafting in her face, was her annoyance at Phillips. He knew one of her triggering scents was coffee. It had been mostly banned from the bullpen.
He’d been trying to get her to go home all morning, each time she ignored him.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” she mused, leaning far back as her seat allowed. “No one else is here to do the paperwork with the 084 in Manhattan. Get that out of my face.”
She brushed his hand out of the way and Phillips smirked around the mug. “This?” He waved it under her nose and Peggy’s lips pursed to prevent herself from upchucking what little breakfast she could keep down. “It’s just coffee, Carter. Besides, Thompson’s on the way back, he can handle the paperwork. You’re too sick to be here.”
“With all due respect, sir, I feel perfectly fine.” The humph from him said otherwise. “I do. I can handle doing my job. Especially if Thompson is going to take over, I assume you don’t want these properly filled out, do you? Or legible.”
“Fine isn’t upchucking in the communal toilet loud enough that we can all hear it. You’re pregnant, Peggy. There’s more than just you to worry about.” He set the coffee on her desk and leaned over, not threatening her space. He knew how quick she could move, pregnant or not, and didn’t desire his own beverage in his face. “I already called Rogers - he’s on the way to come pick you up. As of today, you’re on maternity leave. We can converse over the phone the finer details of what that entails, plus your ideas later.”
Peggy’s heart sunk straight to her stomach. Maternity leave. She’d avoided it long as she could, despite how she needed the rest, wanted the rest. She didn’t need this used against her what so ever by the SSR boys when she came back.
“My ideas can be discussed as normal after office hours.”
“For Christ Sake, Carter!” Phillips groaned and rolled his eyes. “I can see why you and Rogers make a good pair - you’re both too stubborn for your own good. We will discuss the installments later.”
The hard look in his eyes told Peggy she wasn’t winning this and part of her, a large part of her actually didn’t want to fight this either. Phillips had taken over for a reason - a big reason, long before Peggy had revealed she was pregnant. This had been planned for so long, between them, and taking the first few steps carefully would be crucial to them.
“Traitor,” she grumbled, seeing the entrance door opened and a familiar broad figure standing there, no doubt with a cup of ginger tea.
Steve knew her so well.
“Never been so glad to be called a traitor in my life. Rogers, get your wife, and take her home. Make sure she stays there. If you’re so back in this office without my permission before that little squirt is born, Carter, there will be hell to pay.”
With that being said, Peggy found herself being lead down the exit elevator, sipping on the tea. She avoided Steve’s smugged look.
“Told you so,” he mused, wrapping her in one of his larger coats as they braced the cold wind outside. The tea did nothing to warm her up, but plenty of her belly as he sat her in the passenger seat. She’d long have to give up the ability to drive with her belly.
“Say that again and you’ll be sleeping on the couch. I don’t need to hear it,” Peggy snapped, instantly regretting it at Steve’s pouting look. “I’m sorry, darling, I am just irritated.”
“I know you are.” His hand slid over hers and squeezed before he started the car. “Phillips is just worried, hence I was taken off of duty with the Commandos a while back. He wants me near you in case something happened. Least this way you can relax and slowly plan the aspects of SHIELD.”
Peggy made a noise in the back of the throat, agreeing with Steve. Her eyes falling to the snow and ice outside the window.
“We need to stop at the store and get groceries if we’re to be inside for so long.”
If Steve disagreed, he said nothing as he made a turn to head to the nearest store.
Insisting she could walk, Peggy brushed off Steve’s concerned hand and held her own to her belly when there were kicking and movement.
She could feel Steve’s eyes on them as they walked the aisles, commenting on the price of peanut butter or bread. The smell of the fish Steve was looking at made her naughtius and this time, unavoidable urge to get sick, having her running to the bathroom.
“I’m getting some more ginger,” Steve commented when Peggy emerged, using the end of his sleeve to clean some of the sweat from her face. “And licorice. Don’t make that face, it’s good for you.”
“It’s disgusting, is what it is, but I’ll take anything at this point,” she sighed, rubbing over her belly again. “You go do that and I’ll get the tea and sugar.”
At least watching Steve walk away left Peggy with a view that reminded her as to how she got pregnant in the first place.
The last she expected to find when she waddled down the aisle, Steve having taken the cart, was a familiar face. The last familiar face she wanted to see. Ms. Fry.
She hadn’t seen her since she’d told the old coon that she was leaving the Griffith and the woman had gone on some bizarre tantrum about Peggy ruining her life, hanging around men who would do nothing but bring her down, needed to settle down, and find a husband, to train herself to do this and that. And how she was going nowhere, the same with Angie…
It made Peggy want to roll her eyes and avoid the woman but she wanted the tea and to go home and put her damn feet up.
The second she was in the aisle, the woman spotted her. Eyes lit up and trained on her.
“What do we have here?” Her voice was downright sneering and Peggy didn’t miss it as she turned to look at her.
“Hello to you too, Ms. Fry. I’m surprised you remember me,” Peggy replied cooly.
“I don’t forget the rift raft rulebreaking ones, darling. I always remember their faces.” The term darling was anything but endearing. “I see I was right.”
“About what?” When the woman just looked down at her hand on her belly and back up at Peggy with that grin, the brunette scoffed.
“Still unladylike as ever, I see. Well, which one was it?” When Peggy didn’t respond and just raised a brow, the woman scoffed. “Which one? Whose the unknown father of your child? Or do you just not know and slept around with far too many of those agents you work with?”
Before Peggy could respond, Ms. Fry seemed to be on that tantrum again, “You always did make the poor life choices. Always going out, past hours, or before hours. Always stealing food for the other residents who never bothered to even show up for mealtime. You were always running around, flirting and flaunting with men. A woman doesn’t do that! Now look at you, not even having the decency to marry one of the fellas that knocked you up. You’ve made some poor life choices here, dolly and they’re going to bite you in the can. And I suppose that while you’re here, buying the cheaper version of that tea, that you’ve lost your job too. No one is going to hire a pregnant lass and certainly not hire a single mother. Your best bet is to drop that kid off at the orphanage and to marry the first fella who makes eye contact with you. That poor kid…”
Peggy was seeing red, her chest aching. She didn’t even know when to start, where to start, with what to counter. To yell at this old hag to prove how wrong she was.
Now Peggy never considered herself a damsel in distress. She never needed to be saved, she could handle herself perfectly fine but just this once, she was glad to see Steve strutting down the aisle behind them. She knew that look, had seen it a hundred times during the war, and a hundred times after during his exports with the Commandos or running strategics for the SSR.
The set jawline, the determined look in his eyes, the fierce look that followed after. The way his shoulders were set back and his knuckles turning white around the cart, despite he’d never dare to hurt someone. Even if the thought just barely crossed his mind in a fit of blind anger that came when to defending his wife.
He said nothing to Ms. Fry, even nothing to Peggy. Dropping the cart so it hit the floor, the contents jostling inside. He cupped the small of Peggy’s back before dipping her down for a long and hearty kiss that reminded the brunette why she loved the man in the first place.
Her hand laid on his chest and felt his strong heartbeat underneath, feeling his lips smile against hers as she was settled on her feet. Her necklace with her wedding band on it had come out of the contents of her shirt and laid right in the open.
“Good afternoon to you too, Ms. Fry,” Steve mused as if they hadn’t just made out in front of her. “I see you’re still doing just as lovely. I’m afraid I never got to introduce myself, by the time I was found, and set for duty, Miss Carter and I had eloped and moved in together.”
He didn’t offer his hand to her, just a shit-eating grin as he grabbed at their basket. The woman was still staring at them, blinking slowly as if to put this all together.
“You see, you’re wrong on many accounts. Peggy does what in the hell she wants, when she wants because she wants to. No one can control her. Not her mother, not me, and certainly not you. Those ideas she puts in the other girl’s head at your home? Those were there, to begin with. You’d be surprised what goes on under your nose,” Steve snorts. “Top it off. The only bad choice in life Peggy has ever made was perhaps to marry me.”
Peggy gently smacked his chest, drawing herself out of her thoughts. “It was not. I love you, darling.”
Steve caught her hand and kissed it. “I love you too.” He looked back at Ms Fry and shrugged. “You were lucky to have Peggy under your roof for the short time you did and I’m lucky I was able to get her back. So, no you’re wrong. She hasn’t been knocked by any of those Agents, just me. We’re expecting our first in an already paid off home, one I’ve been remodeling while Peggy still worked. She’s only just starting maternity leave today, actually. We just came by to pick up a few essentials.”
He waved the basket in her face with a small laugh. “So Peggy’s ‘bad choices’ in life had actually turned around great for her. She has a promising career, a loving husband, and a household full of kids, and love. In fact, not that it’s your business, but Peggy will actually be working while I stay at home to take care of the children. Perhaps not to your ideals of traditionalism but…”
Steve shrugged before taking Peggy’s arm. Before either could say goodbye, they left. He plopped the tea box from Peggy’s fingers and tossed it into the cart.
“And the only reason you did get the cheap box was that the others give you a headache,” Steve scoffed, once they’d unloaded the groceries at the house. He watched Peggy from across the way, her feet settled into a bucket of warm water, with a towel around the back of her neck, her hand cradling her belly.
Peggy looked up from across the way and into their kitchen, seeing Steve staring at her from across the breakfast nook. “How long do you think it’ll be until she figures out you’re Captain America?”
Steve snorted as he brought his wife her cup of ginger tea and sat down with a book in his lap beside her. He’d been reading it to her for the past week. “With luck, she’s still standing in the aisle, looking confused.”
#Steggy#StevePeggy#Ms. Fry#Phillips & Steve#Colonel Phillips#Steve Rogers#Peggy Carter smut#Pregnant Peggy#Steve works at the SSR
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Side Track Opinions part 5: Roman
(I’ve been saving Roman for a while now and I am PUMPED! So here’s a late birthday present to our royal lad ❤️ It’s also super nice to save the creativitwins for last because both of their playlists reference each other quite a bit 👌)
1) A Gay Disney Prince: I mean... are any of us surprised? This song is basically Roman’s anthem, so it was bound to be on his playlist. I do find it interesting that both Roman and Remus are the only sides with songs made by Thomas on their playlists. I guess it goes to show that having a big ego runs in the creative family 😂
2) Wonderboy: Only two songs in and we already have a song about Remus, or “young Nastyman, archrival and nemesis of Wonderboy” in this case. You’ll start to get the idea from Roman’s playlist that he really misses being with his bro. This song portrays Roman as almost a perfect and untouchable force. He is seperated from all of his nasty thoughts and is the perfect embodiment of what Thomas sees creativity as (“High above the mucky-muck, castle made of clouds, There sits Wonderboy, sitting oh so proudly. Not much to say when you're high above the mucky-muck.”). I like to imagine that the singer of the song is Thomas, looking to Roman for comfort. Creativity most likely split as a way for Thomas to, not very healthily, cope with his intrusive thoughts (“Wonderboy, what is the secret of your power? Wonderboy, won't you take me far away from the mucky-muck man?”). It’s also interesting to note that at the end of the song, Roman and Remus seemingly join forces very successfully (“Well, Wonderboy and Young Nastyman joined forces; they formed a band the likes of which have never been seen”). Perhaps this is hinting at either Romans want to have his bother back, or possibly foreshadowing to their relationship dynamic in the future. I know I’d love to see Roman and Remus team up together in future episodes, maybe even against Patton and Janus in the next episode?
3) Disney Princess: This song is all about Roman dreaming about being in the lives of different disney princesses. Honestly it’s not super deep, but it does show just how much Roman loves to fantasize about escaping reality and living in his ideal dream world. He wishes his life were more interesting and exciting like what you would see in a movie. Also, Roman is SO desperate for someone to love him... poor guy (“I'd be a handsome man's wife And we'd kiss and we'd kiss And we'd kiss”).
4) Broadway, Here I Come!: (tw suicide) So this song is... interesting. It can be interpreted in two different ways: one being a song about how making it on broadway is a huge leap and very difficult, and another about a person literally jumping off of a building and commiting suicide. I always think of Logic vs Passion during this song because while Roman believes he is acchieving his dreams and is willing to take risks, Logan just believes he’s setting himself up for failure. I think Logan’s view on Thomas’ life and career choice is very hard on Roman and, by the topic of the song, affects him greatly (“The people all are pointing. I bet they'd never guess, That the saint that they're anointing Is frightened of the mess”). He doesn’t know if Thomas will succeed and that makes him doubt himself and causes his work to suffer (“The pressure it increases, The closer that I get” “And the last thing I hear. As the impact grows near, Is it a scream or a cheer?”).
5) Hallelujah: This song, like the one before it, shows a lot of Roman’s insecurities. Roman has a set plan for Thomas in life, but he constantly doubts it and himself due to the comments he gets from other sides (“Somedays I don't think my mama Thinks I'm good enough to be a superstar” “Somedays I don't think my daddy Thinks I'm good enough to be a superstar”). I don’t know specifically which sides he could be talking about in these two lines, but Logan is definately one of them. I like to think he could also be talking about Patton. I mean Roman probably worries constantly about being too much like Remus and disappointing Patton. Roman probably literally thinks that Patton doesnt think hes GOOD enough. Despite all of this self doubt, Roman still seems determined to reach his dreams and prove the others wrong (“But one day I will show him I'm a diamond in the rough, I'll be a superstar” “Yeah, there's a crown covered in glitter and gold I'm gonna wear it, whether you like it or not”).
6) Holding Out for a Hero: This song is from Thomas’ perspective! Thomas DOES see Roman as his hero despite what Janus’ not at the end of the most recent episode may have you believe. Roman acts as Thomas’ protection from all of his darker and more disturbing thoughts. Thomas uses Roman, a picture perfect image of creativity to help him escape from all the bad things in life and in his head (“Where have all the good men gone And where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night I toss and I turn And I dream of what I need”). Thomas literally created Roman to be a perfect knight in shining armor. The singer in the song shows this by listing off everything that they believe a hero needs to be/have, Similar to what Thomas would have done in the creation of Roman.
7) If I Dare: I’m conflicted about what this song could mean. At first glance it seems to be about Roman willing to do anything in order to get more creative control over Thomas (“If I dare to risk it, then I know that I'm willing to. If I dare to want this, to want more than I have” “I am holding out for more than what I have now”). Roman really wants to be trusted more and would seemingly take huge risks in order to get that. The part that throws me off is this line: “When the room gets dark, and I am quiet. There's a voice that's soft, like someone's silhouette Saying, "Don't let me go yet"”. To me, this sounds like its about Remus. Possibly Remus begging Roman to not get rid of him and to remain as one. What confuses me is that the line felt so out of place with the rest of the songs meaning. I’m not sure what to do with that information, but if anyone has ideas, let me know.
8) Go the Distance: Roman is so patient... and so unrealistically hopeful... He continues to lay down and let the other sides get their ways because he believes that the wait will be worth it when he finally gets his say (“I'll be there someday, I can go the distance” “I know every mile would be worth my while” “And a thousand years would be worth the wait. It might take a lifetime but somehow I'll see it through”). Despite how many times hes been ignored and let down, he continues to hope that his chance may come one day. Theres also this line: “But to look beyond the glory is the hardest part. For a hero's strength is measured by his heart, oh” which makes me think big time of SvS. He gave up his glory in favor of what Patton wanted because he thinks that it was the more heroic thing to do.
9) Flamboyant: The title really says it all. Roman is extra™️ and he knows that all of the other sides think so too (“I'm a very flaming flammable guy. Some say my fire burns way too high. Some say they find me too hot to touch. But I, I think it's not enough”). I also think its important to note that this song feels a bit out if place with the canon Roman that we know. From what we’ve seen of Roman, he holds back a lot. He denies a great deal of his greed and wants in order to make the others happy and fill in his “hero” persona. This song portrays Roman as having no restraint and not wanting the others to boss him around (“Don't tell me what to do, Don't tell me what to say” “Turn down? I never do” “And no time for restraint”). I’d love to see more of this assertive side of Roman in canon, but right now you can tell that he is holding back. He wishes he didn’t have to, but he feels as though it is necessary to distance himself from Remus.
10) Jumpstarted: Let me set the scene. Thomas is just out an about enjoying his day, he holds open the starbucks door for the guy behind him and... omg... he’s hot... he’s the love of your life Thomas! Roman the proceeds to fanticize about marrying and starting a family with this one random guy that they’ve never talked to nor seen before (“The only one I want is you. I hear the bells and the ring and already, Four kids and the big ol' wedding Singing, You” “And how was I to make a long walk home. You got me feeling like I'm overdosed”). This whole song is just Roman singing about his head-over heals love for a guy in Thomas’ head while Thomas has to act normal and even warns the dude to run away while he has the chance (“Take my advice and run while you still can”). Roman’s quite a hopeless romantic.
11) Brave New Girl: Remember how I said Roman has been holding back and trying to be more polite in order to make himself less like Remus? Well this song is the opposite of that. This is what Roman wants. Roman wants to let lose and be his wildest self again (“She wants a good time” “She needs to really really find what she wants” “There's a brave new girl And she's comin' out tonight” “Who knew she could feel so alive” “Won't take a back seat”). I like to imagine this song taking place after the events of POF. I mean if the others are just going to accept that Janus is good now, then does that mean Remus is good too? If that the case, then what was the point of him and Remus splitting in the first place? This song makes me think that Roman and Remus could team up together in either the next episode, or future episodes to come. Roman is lost and doesn’t really know why he is who he is anymore, so he seeks out Remus, the only one who really understands what he’s going through (“So she met this man, He was kinda rough. He said, girl, what you lookin' for? She said, I don't know I go with the flow. He said, let's get on the floor”). The man in this song could also be Janus I suppose. He does compliment the singer and flatter her, but after the events of the last episode, I find it hard to believe that Roman would be willing to fall for Janus’ flattery again.
12) Every Boy: Roman wants to kiss every boy in the world... and it’s never enough. That is all.
13) Primadonna: What a bop! This song is honestly so good! Again with Roman’s songs making him out to be a lot greedier and wild than he actually has acted in canon (“You can count on me to misbehave”). This song is what I imagine Roman would act like if he had nothing to worry about other than being himself. Roman wants a lot of things and he wants everyone to adore him for the beautiful prince he is (“All I ever wanted was the world” “I can't help that I need it all” “When you give, I want more, more, more” “I wanna be adored” “I know I've got a big ego”).
14) King: You can already tell by the name what this song is about. I’m honestly shocked how obvious it is. At this point we don’t know who made the decision for creativity to split, but this song and a couple of others in the playlist seem to suggest that it was the Roman part of original creativity who decided to push Remus out. He felt as though it was the only way to successfully move forward (“I had to break myself to carry on”). The others sides (I’d like to imagine Patton) tried to convince Creativity to split and despite his not wanting to. His decision to split seemed like it was a very hard one to make and left a lot of pain in its wake (“They say it's easy to leave you behind. I don't want to try” “Is it worth the price?”). Original creativity felt powerful and strong when he was whole, so of course he didn’t want to split (“I was a king under your control”). The song seems to suggest that he tried to repress his ‘Remus’ thoughts in order to remain whole and not lose a part of himself, but this could only work for so long (“Don't wanna have to lose All that I've compromised to feel another high. I've got to keep it down tonight”). In the end, the Roman side of creativity finally won out and both Roman and Remus decided to let each other go (“I wanna feel like you've let me go, So let me go”).
15) Cheap Queen: This song really shows Roman’s struggle with his identity. He’s so quick to change for others in order to be accepted by them (“I can be good sometimes. I'm a cheap queen. I can be a what you like. And I can be bad sometimes. I'm a real queen. I can make grown men cry” “I'm gettin' too cocky since everyone wants me, It's harder to be myself”). This convices me that the way that he’s been acting in the last few episodes (not insulting anyone, very opposed to Janus) is soley him trying to prove that he is good and nothing like Remus. He’s been hiding his true self which we see a lot of in episodes before Remus was introduced. Roman doesn’t want to disappoint Patton in fear of Patton wanting him to split again.
16) Humility: ANOTHER song about Remus. This song is really interesting. It shows us that Roman is VERY confused about his opinion on Remus. He’s lonely and feels incomplete without Remus, He NEEDS Remus back (“I need you in the picture That's why I'm calling you” “I'm the lonely twin, the left hand” “I don't want this isolation” “See the state I'm in now?”). Right after Roman has these thoughts and feelings though, he instantly tries to block them out and retrain the idea that Remus is bad (“Reset myself and get back on track”). He wants Remus back so badly and feels some sort of remorse for kicking him out, but then he ignores those emotions and acts like he hates Remus another moment (“If I pick it up when I know that it's broken Do I put it back? Or do I head out onto the lonesome trail And let you down?”).
17) Aint Got it Like That: Roman is greedy and wants a lot of things, we’ve established this. Most of this song is about how Roman wants more than what he has now, but he still believes it will come if he just waits long enough (“'Cause I ain't really got it like that And one day Imma have it like that And I know that it can't stay this way And one day Imma finally get paid”).
18) Dreamer: I’m not sure whose perspective this song is from, but this feels like a comfort song to Roman. We know that he has a lot of insecurities and struggles to create things because he worries that his ideas won’t be good enough or will be too much like Remus’ ideas. But this song goes completely against that mindset. It’s what Roman wants to hear: “Dream little dreamer, Don't care what they say” “You can do anything” “Dream like you won't fail. Sing like no one's there. Dance like you don't care. Dream.” “Don't fear little dreamer, You'll get there one day” “And I know that it's scary, But you'll succeed” “You're exeptional, You're original” “You're magnificent, You're sensational”.
19) Paving the Runway: This feels like a song from Roman to Thomas and gosh it just feels so loving and sweet... Roman has such big dreams for Thomas and he has so much faith in him (“Cause I know that one day you're gonna fly”). He encourages Thomas to go for his dreams and excel, something that he is hardly told himself (“Go after your dreams, Crazy as they may seem. Go chase all the stars in the sky” “You will reach higher than I ever could”). Roman does everythig he can to set Thomas up for success and to help him reach his dreams (“Darling, stand on my shoulders” “Baby, I'll be paving the runway”).
20) Go.: Again, I’m not sure who the singer of this song is, but I can tell its exactly what Roman wants/needs to hear. Roman is very clearly holding back due to his fear of becoming too much like Remus and that is making it very hard to do his job (“The fear within Has held you hostage. Break free and live. GO.”). This is a good song to be Roman’s last song because I think it helps to show us where Roman’s character is going in the future. He is going to let lose and relax eventually. Perhaps this will lead to him creating the better relationship with Remus that he’s been hoping for throughout this whole playlist. I predict that next episode, well start to see some of this newer, less refrained creativity from Roman.
(And that’s that! If you can tell that theres some tension between Roman and Remus from this playlist, just you wait for Remus’! As usual, let me know what you thought of this ❤️ Love you guys!)
#sanders sides#thomas sanders#ts sanders sides#ts roman#roman sanders#ts playlists#ts side tracks#side tracks#ts sidetracks#roman playlist#ts remus#remus sanders#creativitwins#long post
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Lost Promises. Gibbs x Reader Angst
Word Count: 2014
Pairing: Gibbs x Reader
Warnings: THIS IS SAD! Also, guns, gunshot wounds, blood, and death. be WARNED ALL WHO ENTER HERE.
Written for: @oneworthsaving
Jethro woke up to the sounds of you vomiting into the toilet in the attached bathroom. It had been happening every morning for quite a while. Most days it was just nausea and an aversion to certain foods. Other days it was a little worse with vomiting. Today was a bad day. He was beginning to get worried about you. Getting out of the bed, he noticed the sun hadn’t even risen yet. Checking the clock, it read 4:45 am, much earlier than you normally got up. He walked to the closed bathroom door and knocked.
“(Y/N)? Are you okay?”
“Don’t come in,” you croaked, your voice raw.
“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” he asked, not allowing the subtle feeling of panic rise to his voice.
The toilet flushed and the sink ran. You opened the door after a few moments and looked at Jethro. You looked awful, your hair was a mess and you looked ragged from throwing up. In one of your hands was a pregnancy test. His eyes widened and the breath seemed to leave his lungs.
“Jethro,” you began hesitantly, a shy smile gracing your lips, “I have something very important to tell you.”
He pulled you into his arms and hugged you close. He had an inkling of an idea of what it was.
“Are you…” he trailed off.
You nodded into his shoulder and grinned. A smile spread across his face. His heart filled with joy. He truly was happy. He pulled away from the hug just slightly and kissed your head before tugging you back into the firm hug.
“Well, there’s no point in going back to sleep. Get dressed,” he chuckled, pulling away fully from the hug.
You two went through your morning routines, every now and again giving each other meaningful kisses. As Jethro tucked into his oatmeal, a thought came to his mind.
“You aren’t going to any more crime scenes. They’re too dangerous.”
“What? Jethro, I’ll be fine. I’m not staying on the sidelines,” you protested stubbornly.
“I’m not risking you getting injured and possibly losing our unborn child, (Y/N).”
“Crime scenes are nothing to be scared of Jethro!” You snapped angrily.
“What if you get shot while on a scene? Huh? You risk not only the baby’s safety but yours as well and I’m not losing you!” Jethro’s voice raised slightly in volume.
You turned sharply away from him, looking down at the frying pan where you had been frying some eggs. Sighing, he stood from his chair and moved to stand behind you. His strong arms wrapped around your waist. His chin rested gently on your shoulder and he pulled you closer by your hips.
“I’m sorry, dear. I’m just worried about your safety and the safety of our baby. You can have this one last case, then you’re on deskwork until you go on maternity leave. Okay?” he asked softly.
You sighed and nodded. “Fine. I’m sorry I’m so stubborn.”
You turned around and pressed your forehead to his. You stared at each other for a long moment before sharing a sweet kiss. You turned back to your eggs and finished cooking them. When you both were finished with your breakfasts, you both left for work.
You walked into the office together and into the elevator together. Jethro looked at you with admiration in his gaze. You were carrying his child. He had never considered having another child after Shannon and Kelly. His hands slid around your waist and pulled you close.
“I love you so much,” he hummed.
You chuckled and kissed his cheek as the door opened. You two separated and stepped into the office. Jethro went to the top offices for his morning meetings and you went to your desk. Your hand moved to the small swell low in your stomach. You smiled down at your belly.
The other agents steadily trickled in. Looking at the amount of paperwork on your desk, you frowned at it. Dinozzo walked passed your desk to get to his.
“You don’t look too happy,” he commented.
“I’m not,” you muttered as your frown deepened.
“Why not? Did the boss saddle you with more paperwork?”
“No, after today I can’t go into the field.”
“How long?” Bishop asked, setting her things down on her desk.
“Oh, about nine months,” you uttered with a smirk.
Everyone’s heads snapped to you in pure shock. They had known about your relationship with Jethro for about six months. They still didn’t know about the little courthouse wedding the pair of you had had two months ago. No one had noticed the modest ring adorning your left ring finger, nor the wedding band Gibbs now wore. Ducky was the only one who knew about the wedding because he was the one to witness it.
Bishop rushed over and hugged you, gently tipping you back in your chair a bit. Abby came in and asked what had happened. After a quick explanation, she rushed over and hugged you as well. The men of the office stood there rather awkwardly as the women chatted.
Jethro came down the stairs. “Got a body.”
Everyone nodded and got ready to leave. They paired off to drive to the scene. Jethro grabbed your arm and told you to hang back for a moment.
“Remember our talk. Please, I want you to wear a vest,” his eyes were pleading.
“Jethro,” you groaned, “it’s just a crime scene. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
This promise did nothing to ease his anxiety. They left quickly to go to the crime scene. It was a dead petty officer, hung from a flagpole in the middle of the woods. This raised many questions. Things like why is there a flagpole in the woods? What was he doing in the woods? It was just the team, no police. This was confusing for the team.
“I feel like we’re being watched,” Bishop hummed, still investigating the scene.
You were looking around the base of the flagpole. A gunshot rang out in the stillness of the woods. Everyone crouched and drew their guns. Pain erupted in your side and you fell into the grass.
“(Y/N)!” Jethro yelled, running to you.
His hands found their way to your gunshot wound. Pain tore through your stomach and side. Warmth poured down your side and under your back. Blood. Panic rose in your throat and you began to tremble.
“Jethro, Jethro, I’m scared,” you whimpered, your hands moving to clutch his shirt, staining it with your blood.
“Sh, it’ll be fine, (Y/N). It’ll be okay. Just don’t worry about it. Try to stay calm. McGee! Call an ambulance!” Jethro barked.
He didn’t allow the panic to rise to his voice, but his shoulders were trembling. Your hands kept clutching his shirt, tears gathering in your eyes. Fear overrode the pain.
“Jethro, I don’t wanna die. Please don’t let me die,” you begged, your voice thick with tears.
“Y-You aren’t going to die! I promise!” Jethro said, the panic he was hiding now manifesting in his voice.
Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and a sob left his throat. His hands pressed harder onto the wound. You were beginning to lose feeling in your lower extremities. The realization shook you but was oddly calming. You brought your hand to his cheek.
“Jethro…” you mumbled to him, “I can’t feel my legs.”
Another sob left his throat as he pulled his hands from your side and gathered you into his arms. He buried his face in your hair and let his tears fall freely.
“Why… Why again? Our baby would’ve been so beautiful,” he sobbed.
“Hey, hey. Don’t let me hold you back from being happy,” you told him, staring into his eyes.
“How can I be happy if you aren’t with me?” he asked in distress.
“Jethro… I’m so tired…” you hummed, black rimming your vision.
“Y-You should sleep, then. Go to sleep, when you wake up, you’ll feel so much better.”
He leaned down shakily and kissed your forehead.
“I love you, Jethro…” you mumbled as you took your last breath.
“I love you too, (Y/N)... I love you,” he sobbed, kissing your hair.
By the time the ambulance got there, you were long gone. Your body had gone cold and Jethro was sobbing. His throat had gone dry and his hand rested over the small swell of your belly. Today, he lost two loves. His wife and his baby. Again.
Nearly a week later, the case was solved and the funeral had been planned. Everyone from NCIS, the base in New Orleans, and the BAU showed up to mourn your death. You had helped with cases with all the agencies in the past.
It rained that day. A cold, pouring rain. Everyone was inside for the visitation and funeral. It was an open casket. As Jethro walked passed the casket, tears fell from his eyes. You were beautiful. Your hair styled in soft curls and wore the dress you had worn on your first date with Jethro. It still fit, even with your small bump. Everyone took their seats and the pastor gave a beautiful sermon about you reaching heaven. Jethro was then invited to give his eulogy. He stood at the podium and looked at the casket.
“(Y/N) was a...she was…” he took a deep breath. He couldn’t focus his eyes as they clouded with tears.
Several sobs left the attendees. In the front was the team from NCIS including director Vance. Behind them was the New Orleans team and towards the back was the BAU team.
Jethro took another deep breath. “She was a light to all of our lives. She always knew to smile. She couldn’t stop smiling. She loved working on the boat with me in the basement and she loved helping everyone, as is evident in how many of you are here. She was my wife, but my best friend. She… She was carrying my child. This is the second time I’ve lost a wife and a child. It doesn’t seem fair. She was taken away from me too early. I can’t help but blame myself that I didn’t force her to stay at the office. That I didn’t make her wear a vest. I want her back. I want her in my arms again…” His voice died in his throat.
He went back to his seat between Ducky and Pride. Behind him sat Aaron Hotchner and David Rossi. Rossi’s hand gently squeezed Jethro’s shoulder. More people got up to give speeches about her including Abby, Ducky, Bishop, Pride, and some of the BAU members. One woman, whom they called Garcia, could barely get through half her speech without bursting into tears and going back to her seat next to a taller black man.
The group left the funeral home and drove in a procession to the graveyard, where they lowered the casket into the hole in the ground. On the headstone was your name, birth, and death dates and an engraving that looked similar to yours and Jethro’s marriage certificate. Jethro leaned on Pride as he watched the casket be lowered into the ground.
After the burial, everyone went back to Jethro’s home to mourn together. The group cleared out after a few hours, everyone giving their condolences to Jethro but also offering fun stories of you. Once everyone left, Jethro went upstairs. Everything of yours was just how you’d left it at the beginning of the week. He pulled a sweatshirt you had taken from him and claimed as your own. He held it to his face and breathed in your scent. He started to cry again, curling up on the bed in his suit and sobbing into the sweatshirt. He couldn’t believe you weren’t next to him in the bed, your soft hands running through his hair as he ranted about the meetings he attended that morning. He cried himself to sleep, his dreams filled with nothing but you and your arms around him.
#ncis#crossover#criminal minds#ncis nola#gibbs x reader#jethro gibbs x reader#leroy jethro gibbs x reader
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Red Light Special
RED LIGHT SPEACIAL (Short Story)
Allow me to preface this by saying, I’d never done coke before and I’d never kissed another woman before last night...
It was the end of the year and I let my roommate convince me to go out with her and her eccentric friends. I asked where to and all Maxine said was that we’d probably hit Deep Ellum and then a friends’ after set. It sounded like Max’s normal Monday through Saturday night to me; we have a strict policy on going out on Sunday nights, we don’t. We party during the day on Sundays and although I don’t get out nearly as much as her, I make it a point to participate in what we like to call “Sunday Funday”.
One of Max’s homegirls, Sam, owned a bar and was our liquor plug. She came over around seven and immediately started pouring drinks while Max and I were still getting dressed. I finished dressing before Max so I joined Sam in the kitchen for drinks. I prefer a cocktail over a shot simply because I have the worst gag reflex in all of Mesquite but Sam could care less; if she was pouring, it was shots for everyone. I took one or two or four and started rolling up. I was the only stoner in the group and I was thankful for that. Max finished getting dressed after changing a million times and then we headed out.
We hit a few bars and that’s when shit got interesting. Sam, Max, and I were leaving downtown and headed to one of Max’s friends’ house when he called her and gave her directions to a different party. By this time, I was feeling all ten shots of whatever was clear and strong and the choice to smoke backfired. Instead of mellowing me out, the weed started smoking me! I was in the backseat having the dizziest most carefree time of my life as I grinded and twerked on the leather interior of Max’s beamer.
Her car came to an abrupt halt and she lowered the music and called the mystery friend back.
“Hey, we’re outside. What’s the phrase again? Okay. Here we come.”
What phrase was she talking about? Looking back, that should have been my first clue that some unusual shit was about to happen.
We parked and walked up to a building no bigger than Starbucks and were approached by a lady wearing fishnets and a leotard. She took our phones, gave us a locker key with the number 86 written on it, then led us to the basement of the building. I could hear low music thudding through the walls as we got closer to our destination. When we got downstairs I knew exactly where we were. Max was a frequent flyer here.
The room was sectioned off by different colored lights. There was a red, blue, purple, and green room.
I quickly observed that I was indeed at a swingers’ party.
My hands were clammy and I could feel myself sobering up. I had two options: either I was going to drink and smoke my way back to zen or I was going to catch a Lyft back home. There was no way Max and Sam were leaving and I wouldn’t dare ask. Fuck, I should have driven.
I stuck close by Max like white on rice. We went in the green room first. I was attracted to it for two important reasons. One being that green is my favorite color and the other is that the closer we got to the green light, I could see marijuana shrubs. It was literally a green room. The shrubs were the least of the most visually captivating things happening in that room. Did I mention that we were clearly overdressed for the occasion? Women were either in lace and satin lingerie or nothing at all. The men were mostly clothed in cigar robes, if anything at all. I was extremely intimidated.
I pulled on Max’s arm, “Girl why you ain’t tell me you was on this tonight? You know I don’t even be with the shits.”
To be honest, I was too intrigued to be maintain an attitude. There was so much to see.
A bold black hand with an even bolder wedding band reached my way and passed me an unsolicited blunt. I looked to see who the hand belonged to but I didn’t know that man. He was barely making eye contact with me; probably because his other hand was between the thighs of some woman and his tongue was down her throat. I had no choice but to take the blunt or let him pass it to Casper and set the whole building on fire. I hit the blunt and leaned up against a small space on the wall, hoping to evaporate into the drywall. The weed was damn good. I felt relaxed immediately and then my mind got to wandering.
I looked around and noticed that my friend who shared the blunt with me wasn’t the only person on the verge of fucking in that room. In fact, there were people actually fucking in that room. I was starting to blush. The weed was making me horny too. I hit it some more and then stared at a couple in front of me go at it. I watched as his penis moved strategically in and out of some lady’s vagina. She had on a wedding band, he didn’t. I could feel my head tilt as I gazed at them and wondered when I’d feel raw dick again…
I was brought back to my senses when I felt a small hand grab mine. It was Max.
She took me across the hall to a different room. The red room. Sam was sitting on a sofa topless with her shirt saving one seat for Max and her clutch saving one for me. I’d seen Sam’s breasts more than plenty times before so I wasn’t as shocked as I should have been, plus, did I mention that weed was really, really strong?
We both plopped down on the couch and at that moment, I realized how fucked up I was. The room started spinning and my first thought was to focus all my energy and attention on not seeming as fucked up as I was. So when Max and Sam were talking to me, I was telling my drunk self to not look drunk and I missed everything they said. I only remember nodding yes to them and saying, “Daammmn, that’s crazy” at the end. Go figure.
A light skinned, middle aged man with a beer gut and premature penis walked buck naked toward us and stopped. He never made eye contact with any of us. He just stood there and looked at Sam’s boobs. The weed had me stuck like chuck. I couldn’t strum up a good cuss out for the nigga. Sam started to rub on her breasts and put on a show for the stranger. She caressed them and in return, the preemie penis grew into a pretty decent half chub. Like I said earlier, the weed from the green room made me super horny. Pheromones were flying blindly all throughout that room and I was caught in its crossfire.
Max leaned behind Sam to get my attention and disrupted my show.
“Come sit down here.”
I went.
“Ex-squeeze me...” I slid over Sam and sat in between her and Max.
Max got her palm mirror and Big C out. Her night was just beginning while mine, on the other hand, was heading towards its end.
She leaned over and asked, “Want some?”
I gave her that look you give someone when they know the answer to some unbelievable shit they just asked or brought up. I like my drugs and I don’t judge, but the Big C, ain’t fo me... or so I thought. Before I could turn Max down, I saw a drink being shoved in my face. A woman in red latex chaps with her ass completely bare and titties to match was passing out drinks. I took the one she gave me and handed it to Max, who then shoved it right back in my face and urged me to drink.
It didn’t take much convincing on her end. I downed something that I could only guess was some version of a cognac and coke. I was still feeling drowsy. Without even asking, I grabbed Max’s mirror and went to town. As I dragged my nose across the cold and shiny pallet, I instantly regretted my sudden act of bad-assery. Thinking back, the shit was completely unnecessary.
When I came up and looked around, I expected to immediately feel wiry and freakishly energized. I didn’t. A grinning Max pulled my face close to hers and gave me a sloppy and unsolicited kiss on the cheek. I squeezed my eyes shut when she did this and when I opened them, I saw the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in real life. She was leaning on the bar wearing a designer birthday suit and stiletto heels. Max was talking a mile a minute in my ear about how she got stood up tonight and how she wanted to go home, but for some reason now, I wasn’t in such a rush.
“Dammnn, that’s crazy.” I managed to mutter.
Our naked friend in the red chaps returned to our end of the couch with a single glass of champagne. She handed it to me then walked away, leaving a squeaking sound trailing behind her. The woman at the bar intentionally caught my eye this time and raised a glass identical to mine in the air. I matched the energy and went over to talk to her.
That’s when Big C kicked in. I could feel myself tweaking. Almost as if I had a tick. I took a huge gulp of champagne to calm my nerves and the closer I got to the bar, the more confident I grew. She was a little taller than me, had a cinnamon skin tone and almond eyes to match; older too. Said her name was Amber. I think she lied. Hell, I lied.
I quickly learned that this wasn’t the type of place where there was much talking being done. I looked back at the couch for some reassurance and saw that Sam was getting her ass eaten on the sofa while Max was headed towards a curtained room with some couple sharing a satin pajama set. The man had on the bottoms and the woman had on the button down top to match, only she purposely left several buttons open, leaving her breasts nude and exposed.
Amber asked me to join her behind a curtain of our own.
I did.
“How old are you?”
I hesitated. My heart was racing, my thoughts were loud, my body was doing things I didn’t authorize it to do, and that damn twitch was back, which was so unfucking-becoming of me.
“Twenty-three.”
Amber scoffed and said, “Old enough”.
We went behind the curtain and started to kiss. They started off as soft, hesitant kisses. She removed the straps from my shirt and let them hang lazily on my shoulders and I felt something cold graze my skin.
A FAT ASS DIAMOND. She was married too.
I didn’t say anything and I’d hoped that she didn’t notice me noticing her ring. Our once childish pecks were now maturing into heavy Frenching. Kissing a woman felt more natural than I thought it would. Her tongue danced with mine and we took turns leading. Amber leaned me back and started to give my nipple piercing attention with the tip of her tongue.
“Just one?’, she laughed.
“I bitched out. The shit hurts!” I laughed back.
I didn’t know what she expected to happen next. I was new to this, definitely not true to it and I didn’t care how fucked up I felt, there was no way I could dine on vagina. I just won’t.
My thoughts were dismantled when I felt her cool hand creep up the inside of my thigh. I trembled and could feel my pussy slightly gush. She moved my panties to the side and slowly rubbed two fingers back and forth. I could feel the grooves in her acrylic against my vulva as she applied the right amounts of pressure on my clit and the extra tension turned me on. I let out a soft moan and felt my thighs getting wet.
Amber removed her fingers from inside of me and placed them in her mouth. My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe any of this was actually happening and had I not woken up with the worst hangover of my life this morning and a stamp from Deep Ellum, I wouldn’t have.
When she took her fingers out of her mouth, she spit out her wedding ring and put it on the tip of her index finger. She removed my panties completely and started tasting me. I felt something cold massaging my clit in sync with her tongue. It went back and forth. I could feel her soft lips kiss and slurp. My body convulsed and I let out what I tried to maintain as the most excruciating quiet noise of arrival.
I was delirious.
Amber sat up, wiped her face with her palm, and kissed me. I felt something sharp touch my lip when they touched. I opened my eyes and Amber spit out her wedding ring and whispered, “Bye, Riley.”
She got up and headed towards the curtain and disappeared back into the dark red room.
THE END
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Pretend That You Love Me
Song inspo: Love fool — Postmodern Jukebox
Summary: Natasha has been sent to a Gala on a mission to gather some info on a gang ring. After being noticed alone, she grabs an unsuspecting Q to help her blend and something ignites inside the two of them once their evening is over.
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“I can’t quite see why you’ve decided to send ME in on this undercover mission. Why couldn’t I be one of the security guards? A waiter maybe??” I say in a hushed whisper to my mission director who has me wired up for the evening. “I don’t do fancy crap and I know you and chairman know this. This dress is BUGGING me, these heels are killing my ankles, and I never thought my hair could ever defy gravity like this.” I keep tripping over the cherry red floor length ballgown I had to wear to the event, pulling and adjusting to ensure nothing pops out and fluffing it out to make sure I don’t trip again and I look presentable. As I walk through the halls I begin to struggle walking in the pencil thin heels I was forced to wear. “God I can’t wait for my feet to be on flat ground again. I’m not a fucking barbie.”
“Well, Natasha, you’re the only agent that they probably won’t recognize out on the floor in this environment. Other top agent’s identities have been compromised. Besides, you’re rather unassuming.” Stephen’s voice comes through my earpiece. I roll my eyes and continue to walk through the crowded halls of the extravagant gala.
If i’m going to be on this mission, I may as well have some fun. I stroll to the drink station where elegant wine glasses are filled with bubbling champagne. I stare for a moment at the liquid gold and pick one up, swirl the glass around lightly, and take a well deserved sip. As I swallow I feel the carbonated alcoholic beverage burn my throat a little. Shivers rush through my veins and I feel better already. I just needed to ease up a bit. While I walk through with my drink in tow, I scan each face I pass I get to ensure i’m not having too much of a close encounter with faces from the files for this case. If I get too close or recognized, that’s another identity compromised which will make this case even harder.
“any visual on the targets.” I jump at the sound of Stephen’s voice ringing through my ears. I look down to my clutch purse and grab my phone out beginning to quicken my pace as I continue walking through the event. I hold it up to my ear pretending to be on a call.
“It seems as though you WANT me to run into problems. You can’t just ask me question like that and make me seem like a psycho talking to myself. You say everyone is on high alert that are in the ring, i’m trying to blend as best as I can. Now only give me information of value and stop asking questions knowing that if I answer, it could cause issue with what we have unfolding right now. Think before you speak because if not I will ensure it’s not my ass on a spit roasting and turning over a fire.” I pretend to hang up my phone and look around to the people around me, all of which quickly avert their gaze.
“Harsh.” Is all Stephen had to say in response. Good. Any more out of his mouth and i’d be cooking him for dinner.
I brush myself off and straighten up before going to the ballroom where a whole soirée is going on. Ballroom dancing, people with champagne in hand chatting with voices that filled the room. Everyone had someone to be with and somewhere to be making me feel socially out of place. I walk along to the edge of the dance floor where a stand up table is and just take in the faces of everyone around me.
Half choking on my champagne I spot a whole flock of gang members all cleaned up eyeing everyone out. They’re not good at blending, but they have more noticeable tells that something is afoot. Are they even trying? Their eyes darting about, talking amongst themselves in hushed whispers. I can already tell they’re peeking around for anyone suspicious or out of place. I already know I stick out like a sore thumb but at least I know I can put on a brave face and blend better than they can.
“I see you’ve spotted them too, I didn’t want to alarm you. Play it cool don’t blow your cover.” Thanks for that friendly reminder Stephen I thought to myself as I roll my eyes so hard it felt as though they could have fallen out. I feel myself begin to sweat but I do my best to put on a poker face and pretend like I hadn’t noticed them. The sound of the swing band is almost deafening and with each pluck of the deep tone cello I feel my heart pound out of my chest.
They won’t stop staring at me and I can feel the eye contact begin to burn holes into my skin, but I just continue to look at the dance floor and others at tables around me. I look around to see if I can start a friendly conversation with fellow gala goers to make myself a little less noticeable. There’s a large group standing around talking and laughing together, walking into that will make me stick out more since i’ll mess up their social dynamic. There’s another guy at the table to the right of me, but he’s too focused on his phone and he has a ring on. I don’t feel like getting cussed out by his wife if she’s here. But, I spot a rather handsome man at a table across from me with short slicked back salt and pepper hair and a bit of scruff. No wedding ring and no girl around him, seems single, an older man maybe late 30s. Seems like the more subtle option, should anything go awry he’ll be the one I go to.
“Better move looks like they’re closing in.” Almost as if on cue with my train of thought, I take a glance from the corner of my eye and see them whispering and pointing. They place down their drinks with heads turned in my direction. They’ll be pouncing any moment soon. Way to be subtle boys.
“Shit.” I whisper to myself, just then I make eye contact with the gentleman I was eyeing up. Perfect, now’s my chance. I give him a sultry look and a devilish smile and walk over to him. “Hey there handsome, what are you doing at an event like this.” I drag my hand across his and he looks at me distraught and almost dumbfounded by my sudden appearance and approach.
“Couple’a friends umm dragged me out here uhh. I vaguely know the host, an acquaintance. I didn’t want to be rude so I uuh, thought to pop in for a bit. Don’t believe I’ve met you before. My name is Brian Quinn, but please call me Q.” He says stumbling over his words, I see the men beginning to close the gap between us out of the corner of my eye. No time for formalities and small talk now, I need to make moves before trouble breaks out. I look Q in the eyes and grab his arm and guide him to the dance floor where a cacophony of intertwined bodies swing and sway about to the music. I hold him steady with some distance between us as we begin to be sucked into the middle of the dance floor where our identities are lost.
“Listen i’m in a heap of trouble right now and if you could pretend this is normal that would be greatly appreciated.” I say sternly as I follow the motions of fellow dancers forcing Q to follow in suit nervously.
“Trouble?” He asks with a twinge of fear in his voice. He swallows hard as paranoia begins setting into his skin and his eyes look around for who the danger is.
“Keep up the act and stop looking so nervous and we’ll be safe. You don’t need to know more. Just follow my lead.” I put my mission training from that ballroom dance workshop to good use and begin to match energies with the crowd surrounding us.
“I don’t really dance much, so if I step on some toes here i’m sorry.” His eyes dart to the ground in attempts to watch the movement of my feet and match speed, tempo, and patterns of the dance. He stumbles every couple of counts but makes his best attempts. But soon, halfway through the song he begins picking up the pattern and no longer needs to trace my feet for guidance. His confidence soars as he looks at me a smiles like a child that has just learned how to ride his bike. The space between our bodies close as we become more comfortable and it feels almost natural.
As we continue to waltz about, I continue to look around searching for the faces of danger.
“You’re in the clear for now Nats. But they’re circling the perimeter like vultures. Good recovery, though.” Stephen comes over my earpiece and I almost jump at the sound of his voice, he had been quiet for a while that I almost forgot I was on a mission.
“What’s with the earpiece?” Q says inquisitively. Eyes narrowed in on my ear with the earpiece in it.
“What are you talking about?” I try and dodge a bullet on this one, but it seems as though there’s no escaping the grasp of his observant nature.
“I work with this kind of equipment. Plus you jumped out of your skin even though no one around here has said a word.” He keeps his volume low to not alert others of his discovery. “I also know there’s cameras everywhere. There, there, and there.” His eyes point out each of the cameras we had planted in the room for visual evidence. I feel color flush from my face. Is he working with them? He wasn’t on file though. Is my mission compromised?? My eyes squint at him and I begin creating a distance between us should I have to run.
The song comes to a close and Q’s forehead is noticeably shiny with a thin layer of sweat.
“I’m guessing you haven’t danced like that before?” I say teasing him trying to avoid further questions that could reveal much more.
“I haven’t danced ever, I don’t dance. This is new and nerve wracking especially with a pretty lady like you. I suppose I am ill prepared to swoon a woman on the dance floor. You did a fantastic job taking the lead though.” He gives me a flirtatious raise of an eyebrow and a sly smile. I couldn’t help but blush at the compliment.
Suddenly I felt the harsh grasp of a hand on my right shoulder. No sound comes out of me but my eyes go wide like saucers.
“You’re coming with me.” A deep voice bellows out behind me. I send my elbow rocketing backwards right into the guy’s gut, he wheezes in pain and steps back releasing me to hold his abdomen in pain. I look up to Q who takes a small step back, mouth agape in shock. The crowd around us stops all movement and creates a circle around us watching as everything unfolds.
Q’s face quickly shifts to outrage, walks swiftly past me grabbing the guy by the collar, reeling his arm back for a wind up and socking the guy square in his face. The force of the blow causes Q to release the gang member and he tumbles back holding his eye which is sure to be black in mere minutes. Blood begins to stream from his nose as he seethes in pain.
In that moment I realized and came to the conclusion that this guy isn’t working for them. A wave of relief rushes over me knowing I don’t have to fear him or his intentions. He just punched a guy for me without question.
“Leave her the FUCK alone. Keep your hands to yourself you disgusting CREEP.” Q spits out. Soon enough security is surrounding us. I see a familiar faces of fellow crew members and I feel a hot wave of shame knowing what’ll happen next.
“Nats security guards are clear and safe, they’ll probably kick you out but you’re lucky this guy set this up so you seem like a victim so they won’t be alerting authorities.”
“Shut the fuck up Stephen. didn’t need the extra info.” I whisper so no one could hear. Q turns back around and looks at my shoulders. I almost thought he had heard me, but it seemed like he was inspecting it, then he looked into my eyes. My heart thumps a bit when my eyes met his. “What?” I say chuckling.
“Just making sure you’re not hurt. You aren’t hurt, right?” He says dragging his fingers delicately across my shoulder and tilting his head to check if any marks and bruises were there.
“I’m fine really. That was a pretty hard blow you served.” I place my hand on his and it rests upon my shoulder for a moment. Closure. Security was picking up the guy and guiding him out, he spewed profanities in our direction as he was dragged off. My eyes redirect around me, the others that were thinking of closing in begin to retreat one by one seeing that too much negative attention was brought upon the situation. I sigh in relief, however, still disappointed as I didn’t get any information I was sent to gather.
Security then approaches Q and I.
“Ma’am, sir. As per rules regulated by this evening’s host, i’m going to have to ask you to leave the premise immediately following your actions.” Q’s eyebrows furrow and I can feel his anger ramping up again.
“Why are we needing to leave when that guy had his hands on her? He was a pervert I bet and you’re kicking us out when we were defending ourselves?” His arms flail as he rages on about the encounter we just dealt with.
“Sir. This is your last warning to leave immediately if not further action and force will be taken.” Q doesn’t say much else, just looks to me and I follow him out of the party not wanting to make much more of a scene. As we exit, all eyes are on us and I feel humiliated for getting kicked out of a high profile event. This has never happened to me before in my 2 years of working field work for the agency.
I stand outside next to Q on the entrance steps to the venue overlooking the busy road in front of us.
“How did you do that?” I say breaking our silence.
“Do what?” He said with a light chuckle.
“The cameras. my earpiece. Who do you work for?” I say as my defenses raise a little, still scared that he could be working for forces unbeknownst to me. He holds his hands up in defense mode and his eyebrows raise.
“I work for a TV producer. I do a dumb show with my friends where we use the same equipment. I know it when I see it. I don’t have any James Bond type shit going on I promise you that, although that’d be pretty badass.” I’ll have to do some research on this guy later. His skills are good and almost scary. I let my defenses down again and reflect on the evening we so happened to share together.
“I want to apologize to you, I must have ruined your evening. Thank you for helping me.” I stare at the ground embarrassed that he was so quickly roped into something he has no knowledge of.
“Do not apologize. My mother raised me to do what’s right. He placed his hands on you and I saw the look on your face and it didn’t sit right. I got mad and took things into my hands. Things like this aren’t something where you should just stand by and watch, you need to take action.” He says as he rubs the back of his head. “Besides, I didn’t want to come out to this gala anyway. I just popped in for a moment. Had you not approached me, I would have left sooner.”
A sleek black Tesla pulls up and out steps Stephen, disgust riddled his face and I let out a deep sigh and rub the bridge of my nose between my fore finger and thumb. Of all the people they could send to retrieve me they HAD to send Stephen. That explains why it’s been radio silent on his end.
“I’m guessing that’s your ride?” Q says looking into my eyes stepping to me closer. His body language says nervous, the twiddling of his fingers on his thigh and the way he slowly speaks to ensure all he wanted to say got out properly. When I look in his eyes, they say ‘I want to make a move.’
“It is, sadly. You know Q, you’re a hell of a guy for doing something like that. Takes guts. You made my evening a fantastic one for the brief moment we have known each other. I appreciate it greatly.” I say stepping in closer to him. We were at this point mere inches away from each other and I could feel something there sparking, as though connector cables began to take hold of my heart.
I take one more glance to Stephen and turn back to Q. I’ve got nothing to lose, what is Stephen gonna do about it? Quickly but gently cupping his cheeks in my hands, I bring him in closer and plant my lips on his with eyes fluttering closed. It was then where it felt like lightening had struck my heart and thunder was pouring through my pores. I feel soul ties forming between us and it feels bittersweet because I don’t know if i’ll ever see him again. I pull away and his eyes seem to glisten in wonder as though he feels everything I do.
“jusqu'à ce que nos chemins se croisent à nouveau, my darling.” I graze my hands down his chest and wink. I look to his lips and my lipstick had stained them, I giggle. The corners of his lips curve up and the look in his eyes never go away as I step down and hop into the car. With one final glance to Q, I was off on the road again.
“That was a mistake Nats, and you know it.” Stephen utters out. I cross my arms over my chest and huff.
“Bite me why don’tcha. I can’t have one good thing, huh, Stephen? I bet you’re just jealous I got more action than you ever will.” He shakes his head, eyes narrowed in on the road and we sit in silence.
Meanwhile, back where Q was still standing: He watched as the car took off into the night, heart pounding out of his chest, face hot with emotions he hadn’t felt in so long.
“I didn’t even get her name.”
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I'll write you bloody murder- intrulogical
Trigger/squick warning: mention of murder, blood, bullet wounds, surgeries (sort of).
Pairing: Romantic Intrulogical (they're married Y'all. Hell yeah)
Based on one of this prompt @chronophobica: 'Logan and Remus doing the serial killer and writer married couple trope.'
Hope you like it bud.
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The little black bar on his screen flickered in and out of existence as Remus stared at the half-done page typed out on his laptop.
He was about halfway through the rough draft of his most recent horror novel and was just starting on the description of a rather graphic scene when he suddenly got stuck mid-sentence describing where the poor victim got slashed with a hunters knife.
He shuffled around in his chair, the thing a dark green colour clashing dramatically with the neon pink sleeping shirt he was currently wearing.
The apartment they lived in was small but cosy. Plants and soft chairs filled the livingroom. The large, jet-black couch and oak slab they used as a coffee table the centrepieces of the comfortable living space. The oak currently holding various notebooks, pens and cans of red bull on it, his coffee mug balancing dangerously on one of the armrests.
"Logibear?" he shouted into the quiet space, taking his eyes off his laptop too instead focus on the black ring around his finger. Twisting it around and feeling the words edged into the metal under his fingertips.
A few moments of silence and Logan's cool voice came floating back towards him.
"Yes, my love?"
Remus grinned at the pet name. He'd never get used to that. Logan, who as always so cool and collected and would be described as cold by an outsider having a pet name for him made him all mushy inside as if it was the first time he'd heard it.
He shook himself. Focusing on why he'd called out for his husband.
"What's the most painful place to get stabbed that wouldn't leave any lasting damage?"
"The lateral lower quadrants of the abdomen I believe. Both left and right upper quadrants have vital organs or veins that could be harmed if the victim got stabbed in that general area," Logan answered quickly. Casually. As if they were talking about the weather instead of where to best stab a person.
But then again. Remus didn't mind. Even more so he was happy that his husband knew all of these strange facts because it made it a lot easier to write out gory scenes.
He'd never wondered why his husband knew so much about murdering and torturing people. Or why he knew exactly how many organs a human could lose before their body gave up completely.
He was a medical professional after all. He was supposed to know these things.
Even if his loves fascination with killing rather than saving lives was a bit worrying at times, Remus didn't blame him. Would be hypocritical to do so even.
He was a writer after all.
Logan working in the medic field also explained why he sometimes came home late smelling like fresh blood while his eyes twinkled with something close to insanity.
It explained why the car was always spotless when he'd come back from long days or weeks even where he had to be present at the hospital.
What it didn't explain, was why Remus had found blood splatters on his regular clothing when he'd put them in the washer.
But he hadn't cared as much back then. Simply shrugged and thrown them in the washer. Having convinced himself that he must've imagined it by the time he'd gotten into bed and wrapped his arms around his love, nuzzling his face into the back of Logan's neck and breathing in the scent of home. Of wood and chlorine and the newly added blood smell. Of safe and slightly worried.
And when months flew by and Remus published his new book, itching all over when he had to put on a suit and tie and sign books and be nice to people, Logan had sat beside him, button-up as pristine as ever and his hand with the pure black band around his ring finger laced loosely with Remus his own.
And when a man who had been standing in line to get an autograph had cussed him out when he saw him next to his husband, Logan had excused himself. Saying he needed to go to the bathroom and walking away. Making Remus watch as he walked right past the bathrooms and followed the man further into the bookstore.
And when Remus heard about another murder on the news and saw the man's face pop up he'd ignored it. Shrugging off that particular feeling he couldn't quite place that had been growing ever since he'd noticed the first bloodstains on his husband's shoe and going about his day.
Shrugging off the cold shiver that ran down his spine when he found a little sticky note with the dead man's name and address on it under the couch. The thing probably having fallen out of Logan's calendar the day before when he'd come back late from work with that strange look in his eyes and a red smear across his cheek that he swore was jam before he'd gone to the bathroom to wash it off.
They laid in bed that night like always:
Remus in his briefs plastered against his husbands sleep-shirt covered back and face nuzzled into the back of his neck. Logan was completely lax with his hand covering Remus' own that were resting on his abdomen. Their rings clicking together when one of them shifted.
And deep in the night, when Remus wasn't even quite sure if he was awake anymore or simply dreaming, he looked at the back of his husband's neck and dared to ask.
"Did you kill him, Lo?"
And Remus would convince himself that he had been dreaming it. Starting on a new book and buying him and Logan a puppy for their anniversary. The setting of the fire alarm with his attempts at cooking and throwing clothes with the tiniest of blood splatters in the washing machine while acting like he hadn't seen the red splash.
Like his husband coming back from work a bit too late and a bit too happy while smelling of fresh blood as he kissed him hello was something normal. Like knowing exactly which veins to hit and how long it would take for the victim to bleed out was part of the job.
"I killed all of them." Logan had whispered back. And Remus had only hummed in response and wrapped his arms around his partner a little tighter. Intertwining their hands as their wedding bands clicked together and deciding right then and there that this had not actually happened.
And when the police were called on him because his novels were a bit too graphic and descriptive to be totally innocent he had sighed and let them look around his apartment. Dutifully telling them that his roommate had moved out a few months ago and giving Logan a strained smile and a kiss when he came back a few weeks later, blood on his shoes and a few scratches from where one of his victims had struggled on his left arm.
And he hadn't said anything when the new announced that bits of skin and tissue had been found under a victims nails and that they were scanning for DNA results.
And he'd stood in the middle of their apartment as they barged through the door. Logan whispering an I love you before three shots rang out and Remus realised that two of them had hit his love, one nestling itself right between his eyes.
The third had hurried through Remus his own body and shot out on the other side. Getting stuck in the plaster wall dividing their living room and bedroom.
He was vaguely aware of crawling towards his love lying still on the floor. The look of shock from when the first bullet had pierced his leg clear on his face. The bullet hole between his eyes seeming laughably small compared to the exit wound.
Remus was vaguely aware of making a joke he'd had one of his characters make when they had been shot as the special unit surrounded the two men on the floor and pointed their guns at them.
He was vaguely aware of the hilarity of it all. Laughing to show his amusement and getting another bullet through the leg as a reaction. But he laughed. The shock already having dulled the pain as he sat next to his husband. Hands intertwined and their rings clicking together as Remus thoughts about how they ought to have missed the lateral lower quadrants of the abdomen and hit something else that could be fatal right before he lost his balance and his body came falling down onto the floor.
An inch before his head hit the floor he was gone.
And the news report that morning went as followed: serial killer Logan Sanders and novelist Remus Sanders shot and killed when the authorities had come to collect them. The later was believed to have helped with the brutal murder of the 37 victims his partner had tortured and killed.
Though this claim would never be proven, the people had accepted it as a fact and millions of the author's books were thrown away or burned that day. Some people keeping theirs, looking at them with new eyes and telling a guest that came over about how 'these are the books of a murderer.'
-
Remus Sanders his last published book wasn't written by him but rather by a woman who had done excessive research on his case. Documenting his life and the way he'd fallen in love with a serial killer. How they came to be partners in the most horrid of crimes and the bitter end of this tragic love story. The victims of his husband and how the two behaved so elegantly at family dinners.
The book starts with the following sentence:
'The little black bar on his screen flickered in and out of existence as Remus stared at the half-done page typed out on his laptop'.
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BTS
Kim Taehyung/Reader [F]
Genre: Drabble, Mafia/Cop AU, Implied Smut
Words: 1.8k
You’re a cop, he’s the head honcho of the Korean Mafia. Playing a game of cat and mouse with him wouldn’t be so difficult if you weren’t married to him. You can’t exactly kill or arrest your husband, now can you? But, you can ask him to be your undercover bodyguard in a nightclub- for a price of course.
“You can’t possibly be serious!” Taehyung fumed as he sat at his desk. Standing up and knocking his chair over in rage, he ran his hand through his hair. His ring snug on his left ring finger snagging in small strands of blond. The two men- obviously new in his employ from the way they shook at his outburst- who had just dropped off a file of some enemy intel that leaked about the one woman who’s been chasing him for years.
Getting more and angrier by the second, he screamed at the men to make themselves scarce. They ran out with their tail between their legs- if they had one that is- while Taehyung stood in front of his desk now. His palm flat on his double pedestal mahogany desk, he curled his finger before he swiped his files and even his desk lamp clear off.
The straight bulb of the lamp shattered as it hit the hardwood floor, falling into the nooks of the boards and sticking to the fibers of the rug that sat under his desk. Hunched over, he only moved his eyes slightly when he heard a few knocks on his office door.
It was a pattern of knocks he’s heard for years now, and he knows the tune better than he knew his own name at this point. The door opened without any word from him- something he normally would scream about. One does not enter unless granted access; though there is one exception to that rule. The door shut with a click and a flick of the lock echoed in his office. Ensuring he isn’t disturbed further or pushed into a worse mood by some unsuspecting man of his employ.
Low heels of boots clicked across the floor coming closer to his back. Eventually, he felt someone lean over the curve of his back with their own. He let out a breath as he stood up straight, the not so mysterious person at his rear straightening as well.
He could feel their weight shift from the way they had one ankle cross over the other and he could feel their arms hanging at their sides, finger brushing Taehyung’s waist.
“Throwing a fit are we?”
Taehyung grabbed their hand with his own, swiveling himself around and them as well. Now, chest to chest he stared down into the eyes of his spouse. There you stood, face still made and gaudy uniform administered from the sick old men at the police station. Pencil skirt far too tight for anyone’s eyes to look at but his, and blouse tucked in just enough so it wouldn’t slip from under your skirt and tease your stomach.
Breast and shoulder decorated with your ribbons and rank, your blazer was forgotten somewhere in Taehyung’s estate surely. You hated wearing it- far too stifling for your taste. Your cuffs were buttoned around your thin wrists as Taehyung soon found himself playing with your own wedding ring. His unended band of the promise he placed on your finger 3 years ago.
His Mafia thought he was crazy. Befriending a cop 7 years ago was a mistake to be sure- an uncover flop that he couldn’t recover from. Not even he knew that he’d eventually grow to care and love this woman- love you- enough to go steady with him. You would never believe him if he told you he was more confident taking a sniper shot at 400 meters than he was when he asked you to marry him.
Yet you agreed and even shed tears for him and his sake. He had never felt his chest become so warm.
You married him 3 years ago, and now here you two stood. Married and in love. Yet, outside these walls, you were the one police officer to head the ‘permanently’ on-going case of capturing the Mafioso Kim Taehyung.
Taehyung has been wanted by officials of all names and status for more years than a child can count. Avoiding each and everyone somehow. His only mess up was you. 7 years ago when he accidentally captured the wrong target and released you 24 hours later with the order of ‘tell them a lie or I’ll kill you’ before he shoved you back onto the streets.
Though, even a cold-hearted man still has a heart. You were the first woman he felt bad about just ditching back onto the street. Confused and no doubt angry, so when he ran into you again, he didn't know what to expect. You to call the same police department you were in the academy training to be apart of? To scream for someone to hear you even if it was the dead of night with no one but passed out drunks or hookers around?
What he wasn’t ready for was you to waltz up to him and stick your finger in his chest and begin to scream at him. Yelled and scolding him for just throwing you out of the back of some sketchy van way too far from the office. You demanded he pay your medical bill for your broken foot that was encased in a bulky boot as you whacked at him with your cane.
Call him crazy, but the first curse out of your mouth into his face was the equivalent of ‘love at first sight’ for him. Now, you were in love with him too. It only took some time- which is unfortunate for someone as impatient as Taehyung.
“I’m going to put you on house arrest,” were Taehyung’s first words to you.
“The fuck you are,” you fought. Taehyung huffed in disagreement. He brought his hands up to gently lay on your neck and pushed his fingers into the back of your hairline and under your ears. His hands were warm as they felt each individual plush of your blood.
“You’re on a hit list, Y/n.”
“I know I am.”
“Then why are you fighting me on this?” Taehyung dropped his hands from you as you handed him your phone, on the screen was an email from the Cheif of Police. “I just got assigned a new case, putting you on my back burner.”
Indeed you did. Your new case was an uncover infiltration job. Taehyung scanned the email, each word pissing him off more than the last.
“Sneaking into a night club obviously run by Bardol Corps. Applying as a showgirl. Trying to make you come into contact with the one fucking person who wants to fucking mount your ass on his wall.” Taehyung’s voice was stern as he read aloud some details in your email.
Bardol Corps. A corporation run by a man of the same name that has more than its fair share of backdoor deals and illegal partners. Though every investigation ran on them since their upbringing has turned up empty. Everyone knew they were shady- the rumor mill helped with that- but without clear evidence of their schemes, they were safe.
Even Taehyung who ran Korean Mafia wanted them gone. Bardol was a sick bastard even for Taehyung’s standards and they were already pretty damn low. Now, Bardol was making a move on the police by targetting the woman whose task was to take down Taehyung- you.
Bardol was after you and now you were somehow assigned to sneak into his filthy nightclub as a stripper?
“Your Chief sure likes making lambs out of his female subordinates,” Taehyung tsked as he slid your phone back into your breast pocket before he placed his hands on your hips. “He’s a prick,” he added. Leaning back against his desk, he pulled you to his chest, his leg propped just enough to keep you closer to him. His finger pulled slightly at the fabric of your shirt, tugging just enough to slowly untuck it.
“I can’t exactly say no to some old dog who won’t listen to anything anyone under the age of 50 has to say.”
“Perhaps he’d change his mind with a gun pointed at his head,” Taehyung breathed as he brought his lips closer to your ear. You placed your hands on his chest.
“Then he’d find out Mr. Heartless-Mafia has a little crush,” you teased as Taehyung bit your ear. You yelped as you continued to chuckle. He pulled back and placed his forehead against yours, his nose brushing your own.
“I don’t think it counts as a crush if you're my wife, sweetheart.”
“I guess you have a point.”
Taehyung chuckled for the first time since you came in. The frown etched into his face finally faded as you moved your hands to push the corners of his lips up into a forced smile. Taehyung nipped at your fingers before you extended your arms past his head as they rested on his shoulders. Leaning solely into his form.
Curling your wrists inward, your fingers played with the blond strands of his hair. “Say, I may have an idea if you’re willing to listen to lil ole me?” You brought your hands back to the front of his head. One cupped his cheek as the other pushed back his bangs. “How do you feel about going incognito to meet our friend Bardol at say... a nightclub?”
“Are you trying to hire your husband to be your bodyguard?” Taehyung teased.
“I’m not trying to not hire you,” you admitted.
“I was going to follow you anyways and you know it you, little minx.” Taehyung, for the first time that day- except for that morning when he kissed your cheek before he left his bed- kissed you.
Pulling your blouse out of your skirt and fluttering his fingertips onto your skin. His large hands wrapping around your midsection. Finger pushing into your backs, palm engulfing your sides and his thumbs rolling over your stomach. He could feel the imprints of your shirt wrinkles on your waist, even ran over the occasional stretchmark he loves so much.
His kisses were never force, always as sweet as the persona he keeps from everyone but you. Taking his time to truly express his fondness over you and let you know you weren’t some eye-candy to him, but every bit of you was something so dearly important to him. Moving from your lips, to brush his across your jaw to your ear. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he moved down your neck to kiss at the function of your should that had you giggling into his ear.
“I’ll agree to your proposition sweetheart,” he slid his hands further up your body. Running his fingers across your ribcage and up to the edge of your bra. Slithering his hands to the back of the underwear piece to unhook it. Slipping his fingers under the band and back to the front to just rest under the hood of your breast. “Though, I think I’ll take my payment up front if you don’t mind.”
“Am I going to have to unbutton my shirt myself?” You joked as his hands left your chest, slid back down the top of your stomach and reveal themselves from under your blouse. Hooking under your collar lightly, he easily flicked one button free.
“I think I can handle that.”
God he loved his wife.
#i accidently wrote this oops#kim taehyung#taehyung#v#bts#bts v#bts kim taehyung#bts taehyung#taehyung au#au#mafia taehyung#cop reader#reader insert#x reader#taehyung x reader#v x reader#taehyung fanfiction#taehyung fanfic#taehyung fic#v fanfiction#v fanfic#v fic#implied smut#smut#taehyung smut#taehyung fluff#fluff#v smut#v fluff#taehyung drabble
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