#if I breathed out of that-word before my alarm she was AWAKE and poking my face and scratching the blankets and she would NOT stop

[pearl-kite]

Hate that Trio has renal issues and genuinely requires wet food as at least part of her diet because good lord does she feel entitled to it on command

I'm trying to put it off as long as possible tonight so she doesn't get to feel like she can bully me into feeding her on command and oh my god the sulking that is happening right now

[multimilfs]

Agnes O'Connor x Fem!Reader: Poking The Bear

Summary: Agnes has the misfortune of being called in to work a murder case on Christmas Eve. When she leaves you frustrated, you decide to do what you do best; poke the bear.

AO3

A/N: I said "is anyone going to humiliate this woman in this ultra-specific way?" and didn't wait for an answer. Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals <3

Words: 8k

Included: Established relationship, Christmas, Porn with plot; g!p, teasing, somnophilia (implied), dacryphilia, phone sex, accidental orgasm, semi-public sex, humiliation, jealousy, blowjobs, dom/sub, sub space, throatfucking, unprotected sex, masturbation, light breeding kink, light degradation, praise, orgasm denial.

Tag List: @vii-v @absolute-memegarbage @crazycatladycaceta @hannah-0730 @shinysuitcloud @bubbly-moonwarrior @emilynissangtr @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @thelesbianapollokid4 @dmtrxie @notice-shy @vintagegoddess12 @rosie6reyes @softfruity @tragicsapphic34 @msharkness @setsuna1415 @kermidd5 @snickerdoodles-stuff @women-are-so-ethereal @imlike-so-gaydude @lotus-ignis @n0body-is-perfect @goblinscum420 @d-z20 @borntodieedition28 @autbot @ee-bah-sims @kathrynscontroversiallyyounggf @renravens @theothersideofthescreen @sp3c-tr0 @sapphicharknesss @coffeelover245 @madamslaytan @heady-pomegranate @ragnarockz @escapetodreamworld @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @imtrashinflames @goforgreat @welmelsblog @igoturmoney @mol2311 @obnoxiouslycontemplating @bellatrix-black8 @deathly777 @emmasaviorqueen-blog @greatygreatgreat @chlizets @latedawnearlysunsets92

Through the peaceful, warm silence of the morning, an alarm clock blares.

Agnes growls under her breath as she does every morning, lumbering from the comfort of the bed and over to the windowsill where the alarm clock sits. A particularly rough blow shuts it up.

God, why did she let Vidal insist on this shift?

Her routine is simple enough she could do it with her eyes closed; and does, for most of it. It isn’t until she turns the shower to a cooler temperature that she feels anywhere close to awake. She needs coffee—bad.

Halfway through said cup of coffee and one of the donuts you picked up, she realizes she hasn’t kissed you good morning yet.

You grumble a bit when she turns you over, untucking your head from the blankets, but you don’t wake. You look heavenly, painted in the warm glow of the Christmas tree you insist on keeping plugged in all night. Agnes smiles.

Pressing her lips to your forehead, she murmurs, barely a whisper, “Be good, baby.”

A hand wraps around her wrist and she startles. Pulling back, your eyes haven’t opened.

“Agnes, come back to bed.” You say, voice gravely from sleep.

“Vidal will be on my case if I don’t show.”

“I can make your morning better than Vidal can.”

You stretch, curling back into the blankets, but hold her wrist just tight enough to indicate you’re still half awake. It’s good your eyes are closed; she doesn’t need you seeing all the kinds of fond you’re making her.

Agnes really shouldn’t get you started, but curiosity kills cats, not bears, “Oh yeah? How would you do that, baby?”

“You’d come back to bed and sleep until I say.”

“And then what?” She prods, trying not to laugh.

“Then we’ll have a really nice breakfast. Donuts for you.”

“What would you have?”

“You.” You answer, casual and so matter-of-fact, “I’ll even swallow, out of Christmas spirit or something.”

Agnes jolts at the change. Though true to form, she can feel the familiar coil of arousal between her legs. She really shouldn’t have gotten you started.

She’s half awake, she won’t remember this, Agnes tells herself as she tries to move from her kneeling position on the bed. Your grip on her wrist remains.

“Sleep. We’ll have fun when I get home.”

“It’s Christmas Eve.” You whine.

“I’ll be home before you know it, I swear.”

“Fine. ‘Love you.” You murmur.

You rescind your hand and turn over, pacified as you burrow back under the covers. Agnes shakes her head.

“Love you too.” She whispers.

With one last parting kiss to your forehead, she’s gone, with you none-the-wiser.

—

You wake up a mess.

There’s a half-remembered conversation with Agnes lingering in your mind, but it’s hazy enough to feel like a dream; an unsatisfying one, the persistent throbbing between your legs says. You offered to blow her, you remember that much—it’s all pretty blank after that.

No, there was something about having fun when she got home, too.

You can’t wait that long.

It isn’t until two of your fingers are knuckle-deep and you’re missing the fullness Agnes offers that the idea strikes you. You scramble blindly for the phone on your night-stand. The movements change the angle of your fingers and you whine, rolling your hips, even as the blind grabs for your phone grow more frustrated.

Once found, it is ripped viciously off the charger, and you open it, going through your messages for the quickest access to her number. You grin at the contrast between your long-winded messages and Agnes’ one word responses.

An infinitesimal movement of your hips reminds you of your intention.

The phone is brought to your ear and it rings… and rings… and rings…

…and rings…

“O’Connor.” Her gruff voice comes down the line.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You squeeze around your own fingers at the sound.

“Yes, Detective, I’d like to report a crime.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end.

“Go on.”

“Well, my wife woke me up this morning and got me turned on, and she didn’t even have the decency to fuck me before she left. What kind of woman does that, Detective?”

You can hear the curve of her grin, “A lousy one. That’s a pretty serious crime.”

Maybe it’s the low, lilting drawl of her voice down the line. Maybe it’s the way you can see how she’s sitting in your mind; shoulders back against the seat but hips forward, legs splayed with careless confidence, one hand toying with her belt. Maybe it’s the easy humor she slips into with you that she’s never had with anyone else.

Whatever it is, two sentences from her brings you closer to finishing than thirty minutes with your hand has.

You whimper, “Keep talking.”

Another pause. Then the faint rustle of fabric.

“What are you doing?”

Her tone is utterly serious. Unforgiving. And god if it isn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

Finally showing your clit some attention, you moan shamelessly. It’s nice to feel full, but your fingers never quite reach the right spots, and you can’t get off on penetration alone—with Agnes or otherwise. It’s fun to work yourself up though; pushing to the heights you can reach there before really giving yourself the stimulation you want.

If she keeps talking, that—combined with the circling motions on your clit—will send you straight over the edge.

The anticipation builds over the line. For a moment, you pull the phone away to make sure she hasn’t hung up. She’s likely weighing the best thing to say to both turn you on and strike the fear of punishment into you.

Instead, her tone is almost pleading, “Don’t do this now.”

An image strikes you of making Agnes beg, of driving her to a point where the easy dominance falls away, and she’s reduced to chasing whatever kindness you give. It brings you so much pleasure it hurts. You need it. But how to get it?

“Is Agent Vidal in the room with you?” You ask.

The idea of Vidal witnessing what you’re doing to Agnes makes your toes curl.

“No.”

“I thought you were stuck with her today.”

“Leave Vidal out of this.” She demands, but it’s strangled.

She’s clawing for control over the situation, scrambling for a foothold. Normally, you’d give it to her. Normally.

“I don’t think I ask for much…” A lie. You make many requests in the sanctity of your bedroom, “all I wanted was for you to fix what you started.”

“Baby.”

You have to pull your fingers away from your clit, desperate to come but not ready yet.

“There are so many ways you could have done it, too. You could have woken me up with your head between my legs… or with you inside me. It could have been nice, right?”

Only the sound of her breathing comes down the line. Heavy, uneven, like when she’s holding herself over you, hips driving her deeper—

God, you’re so close.

You whisper, needing to know that she’s as affected as you, needing to hear her say it, “Are you hard, Agnes?”

“Yes.”

Even though you haven’t moved any part of your hand, the mental image nearly sends you tumbling over the edge.

“Will you come with me?”

“I…I can’t.”

You know. With the shades open, her office is basically an observation room; meaning if she were to do what you ask, there’s almost a guarantee she’d be caught. A sick part of you wants it. Wants to know that you have enough power over her to make her take the risk.

Gently, you begin to toy with your clit again. You can make her do what you ask. All you need is for her to say it—the confirmation that you’ve undone her so thoroughly that she can’t help but fist her cock under the desk where anyone could see.

“Please.” You beg.

You hear her inhale, the sound sharp in your ear. The words are on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes are no doubt shifting around the office, searching for the perfect way to hide what she’s about to do.

You’re standing on the precipice.

The harsh beeping of a disconnected call blares in your ear. Yanking it away, orgasm thoroughly ruined, you yell in frustration.

—

An officer pulls open the door before you can reach for it, nodding, “Ma’am.”

The precinct is busy for it being a holiday. Uniformed officers sit around desks, either on the phone or talking with others. You spy the Chief talking animatedly to a few toward the back.

They’ve really done up the place this year. Last year it’d been sad, grey. Now there are a few little trees spread around, some personal decorations here and there, a menorah on the front desk with candles waiting to be lit. It livens up the place.

In the back sits the partial vision of Agnes’ office. The blinds are somewhat closed, but she’s left the door open, allowing you enough of a glimpse to know she’s in there. You can imagine her without having to see; her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, hunched over the desk, hand toying with strands of her hair as she frowns over evidence.

Gazes follow as you cut through the center of it all. You do your best to ignore the heat working its way up your neck. Once upon a time, a few of the other officers had tried to catch your attention. You’d entertained a few of them. But they were minnows, and you wanted the shark.

You wanted the unapproachable, stone-faced Detective O’Connor.

And you had been the one to catch Agnes, but her fellow officers couldn’t imagine their illustrious Detective not being the one to do the catching. If only they knew how you could have her eating from the palm of your hand.

A swift knock on the open door and you lean against it. She’s exactly as you imagined. Though there’s a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead and her fingers tap on the desk like she can’t sit still.

She doesn’t look up, barking, “I’m busy.”

“I’ll pass this off to one of the other officers then.”

Her head snaps up and you grin. Hanging from one of your fingers is a white takeout bag. The scent of orange chicken and rice permeates the air, but it isn’t what you’re hungry for.

Work forgotten, she looks you up and down, licking her lips. Her fingers twitch on the desk. You clear your throat and she snaps out of whatever daze she’s in. Clearing her own throat, she sits up, tugging on the bottom of her flannel shirt. Your smile widens.

“Close the door behind you.”

Stepping in, you kick it closed with a low, “Yes, Detective.”

“What are you doing here?”

“My job.” You cross to her desk, dropping the takeout bag on top. You’re perched on the edge closest to her. She looks up at you from her chair, lips pursed, tugging on her shirt again, “What kind of wife would I be if I let you go hungry?”

“None of the other guys get lunch delivered personally.”

“None of the other guys are married to me. Do I get a kiss for my troubles?”

Briefly, she looks out into the precinct—not that she can see much with the shades drawn—then back to your lips. Agnes shifts, licking her own, before nodding.

You lean forward and hold onto the chair by one arm, capturing her lips in a rough kiss. Your other hand palms the length you know pulsates between her legs. Upon contact she grunts into your mouth, hips bucking.

Her hand fumbles blindly for your wrist. Catching it in a firm grip, you can feel the tension in her frame as she decides whether to press you closer or shove you away.

Pulling back just enough to smile, “Poor baby. Have you been like this all day?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Detective?” You murmur.

Her breath hitches. Blue eyes so blown out they’re nearly black regard you, her chest rising and falling as she struggles for an even rhythm of breath. You test her grip and find its slackened. The palm of your hand caresses the entire outline of her through her jeans.

Agnes doesn’t push you away, but she doesn’t pull you closer, either. The hand on your wrist allows you enough movement to stroke slowly from base to tip. Every inch of her seems to jump at the whisper of your touch.

Looking into her eyes, you can see how she’s fighting for control. She just can’t find the path to it. Good. You want her like this—panting and desperate. It makes you clench around nothing.

“What have you been imagining all this time?”

She swallows. Clears her throat, “Vidal will be back soon.”

“I can be quick.”

“Anyone… could see.”

“We have a few options. Your favorite is off the table, though.”

The favorite in question being Agnes bending you over the desk and fucking you hard and fast. It’s efficient, allowing her drive in deep while having the benefit of spanking you as she chases her reward. Her cock twitches at the reminder.

She’s tense, taut with energy like she’s only a few strokes from finishing right here. The thought is hot and you want it, bad—but not all dreams can be reality.

“What do we have?” Agnes asks, finally.

“If I crawl under the desk no one would see what I’m doing.” You offer.

Your hand keeps moving. It’s more for yourself than anything; you like feeling her, hard and wanting, yet so restricted, jumping at the slightest bit of attention. A thumb swipes over where you know the head is and she chokes, hips stuttering from what had been a slow roll into your hand.

“Do it.” She demands.

The subtle authority returning to her voice sends a shiver down your spine. One more swipe of your thumb and she keens, before clamping her mouth shut.

You laugh. Waking up this morning, this is the last thing you expected for yourself from the day; but you can’t deny you’re enjoying every second.

“That’s my girl.” You praise.

Bracing to slide off the desk, there’s a knock on Agnes’ closed office door, and disaster strikes.

The knock startles you. You try to turn and look toward the door, but forget just how precarious your seating situation is on the edge of the desk. You lose your balance. You’re able to get your foot under you just enough to fall into Agnes’ lap, rather than onto the cold tile of the office.

Agnes lets out a cross between a harsh breath and a moan as you fall into her. Your back presses firmly to her front.

“Don’t—god, I’m gonna—”

Strong hands settle on your hips to shove you off, but it’s too late. Agnes grunts. Nails dig into your sides as she ruts helplessly against your backside, unloading spurts of cum with every press of her hips.

You freeze in shock.

Then out of habit your hands find hers. With one, you lace your fingers together. With the other you caress her wrist, brushing gently as you turn your head to meet her eyes, careful to keep every inch of your body where she needs you. Her hips tense, stuttering, whimpering as she fights the orgasm that’s ravaging her.

“It’s okay. Let it happen.” You encourage, brushing a finger against her inner wrist. A war is waging over her face as she’s caught between desire and shame. Desire must win out. Agnes movements pick up speed as she furiously grinds up against you, and you can’t help the praise that falls from your lips, “That’s it.”

Now that she’s given in, she can’t stop, the hands on your hips clenching as she presses closer, harder with every thrust, powerless to the desire she can’t stop shooting. A wounded noise leaves her throat. You empathize; you know well how getting what you want can quickly move into pained-pleasure, when your body just keeps giving and giving.

Agnes’ expression is pained, laced with helplessness to her pleasure. Her eyes don’t leave your own as she rides out the waves. You try to sit still, letting her take what she needs. She allows you to watch every twitch of her expression, hear every noise she lets slip—it’s an act of trust that overwhelms. Lifting a hand to her cheek, you wipe at the perspiration there.

Eventually, she relaxes into the seat, her hips stopping in their frantic search for friction. Her eyes slip closed and you watch her breathe.

You’re eternally grateful that whoever knocked didn’t barge in right after; there is no way you’d have been able to talk your way around what was happening. It’s a mercy that Agnes rarely shuts her office door—now that she has, everyone understands something important is going on.

Running a finger along her cheekbone, you whisper, “Are you okay?”

“What do you think?” She growls.

“Given the mess you just made, I’d say you’re on cloud nine.” You tease.

With a sudden show of strength, you’re shoved into a standing position. You turn to take in the weight of Agnes’ glare.

Agnes snarls, “Fuck you.”

“You could have… if you had a little self control.”

Your eyes fall to her lap for emphasis, the evidence of her desire stark against the front of her jeans. Her hands clench on the arm-rests. Blood has rushed to her face, painting her features in red hues that betray her forced calm.

The sight of her so humiliated is doing it for you; and you can see that she sees, regarding you with a loaded, wary look. It will take no shortage of negotiation, but you will be revisiting this again.

You open the take out bag and pluck out the napkins near the bottom. Carefully, you wipe them over the planes of her face, soaking up the sweat that had been clinging to her skin. Agnes doesn’t meet your eye.

“Agnes.” Waiting until she locks eyes with you, “It’s okay.”

She scoffs, “I came in my pants like a fucking teenager.”

“And it was hot.”

“You’re really something else, you know that?”

“Oh, I’m well aware. I also know that you love me for it.”

Agnes rolls her eyes.

“Unfortunately.”

“Careful, O’Connor, I can still give this lunch away to one of your coworkers.”

The bag is promptly snatched from your reach. You laugh.

Now that she’s standing, you breathe a sigh of relief; her flannel is long, perfectly hiding the evidence of your activities from the world. You just hope no one outside was looking in too closely.

Desire rears its head at the thought. You need to get out of here before you do something that’ll get you both caught.

You lean up and steal a kiss, “Enjoy your lunch, baby.”

When you open the door to leave, you come face-to-face with Agent Rio Vidal holding two cups of coffee in her hands. You startle and she raises her brows at seeing you.

“Agent Vidal.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, sweetheart, or I would’ve bought an extra coffee.”

“That’s okay, I was just bringing Agnes something to eat.”

“Take mine.” The coffee cup is held between the two of you. You can see the faint mark of her lipstick on the lid as she leans in, “I don’t need the extra caffeine anyway.”

“Keep it, Vidal. She can have mine.”

You turn so you can take in both of them. Vidal is relaxed, posture brimming with a quiet confidence while Agnes is tense, staring at the two of you like she could throw something—and she would, if she didn’t think it’d encourage the former somehow.

Agnes has always been… odd around Vidal; moreso than the normal awkwardness between two exes. And Vidal has never been subtle with her interest in poking Agnes’ nerves.

Whatever it is, you’re going to use it and see where it takes you.

You accept the offered cup of coffee, making deliberate eye contact with Agnes as you take a long sip. A latte—thank god, Agnes’ black drip would’ve made you gag.

“Thanks for the coffee.” You murmur low. Then you throw your wife a smile, ignoring the promise of pain in her eyes, “See you at home, Agnes.”

—

Coming home you’re delighted to find a few last-minute packages on the porch. Carrying them in, one shifts heavily in your arms, and you know immediately what it is; one of the speakers in Agnes’ car crapped out on her a few months back, so the passenger-side only spits out static where there should be music—or the sports broadcasts, in your wife’s case; you bought her a new stereo system so she wouldn’t have to ‘make do’ anymore.

There’s also a few new shirts, a nice leather belt, and a watch she’d been eyeing but wasn’t willing to buy for herself. You wrap all of them with a smile on your face and slide them under the tree.

The busy work of it all eases the tension in your shoulders and some of the arousal between your legs. There’s a lingering peace in every corner of your home. It’s quiet, barring the music playing from the kitchen, casting a nostalgic glow over you where the lights seem just a little warmer.

You sit down on the couch and take it all in. Ornaments wobble on branches, glittering and winking at you as they twist. There’s a garland draped over the fireplace with dancing lights; you feel warmer inside when you remember how Agnes helped you set it up, shaking her head at your excitement.

With the bustle of the season, you’ve forgotten to take time like this to stop and let it sink in. So many spend Christmas alone, hungry, without a place to go. You don’t have to. You have a wife who will spend every second with you in the warmth of your home. Tears prick your eyes.

You fall asleep on the couch with that warm feeling in your chest.

—

The scent of garlic and butter tickles your nose. You snap awake.

Did you leave the stove on?

You shoot up from the couch and throw off the blanket you don’t remember grabbing. It falls to your feet, twisting in your ankles, and you do all you can not to fall face-first onto the floor. How long have you been asleep?

Wait. Did you even put anything on to cook?

Agnes’ flannel-clad back greets you when you round the corner. A sigh leaves you. One hand settles over your chest, willing your heartbeat to slow to a normal pattern. It all comes back to you; wrapping gifts, sitting down to enjoy the quiet, intending to get up and start dinner afterward.

You step into the kitchen and wrap your arms around her waist from behind, forehead resting between her shoulder blades. A hand lifts your own so she can press a kiss on the back.

“How was work?” You ask, voice muffled by her shirt.

“A waste of time.” She answers. Her form shifts, one shoulder tensing as she stirs what sits on the stove, “It could’ve waited until after Christmas.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Vidal’s a workaholic and fails to realize the rest of us aren’t.”

“You are most of the year.”

Agnes grunts noncommittally, “What trouble did you get into?”

“Wrapped a few gifts, took a nap. I’m surprised some of your guys weren’t beating down my door with how rowdy I was being.”

“Chief would’ve just sent me to handle you.”

“I’d like that… you, handling me…” You murmur, hand moving down her front with intent.

A strong, veined hand grabs your own. She forces it back to its former resting place. You keep your hand where it is directed. The haven you’ve found nuzzled against her back—surrounded by the scent of her cologne and the heat of her—is just as inviting as anything more salacious could be.

Something bubbles and pops on the stove. Agnes jolts, before relaxing. You drag yourself from your haven to look over her shoulder; a pan of sauce is stirred on one burner, boiling pasta churning away on another. Simple, but hearty.

You press a kiss to the skin you can reach, just behind her ear, “You’re getting better.”

Before, her dinner of choice would’ve been a canister of peanuts, maybe a microwave dinner.

“Don’t say anything until you’ve tasted it.”

“I’ll do what I want.” You answer.

“Don’t I know it.”

Jabbing her side with a finger until she cracks a grin, “Let me taste, so I can tell you how amazing it is.”

The wooden spoon is lifted from the sauce and over her shoulder to your mouth. You wrap your lips around it, immediately lulled further into bliss by the combination of onion, garlic, and tomato.

“Agnes, that is delicious.”

Her brows raise. With a flourish, she allows herself a taste.

“You love to stroke my ego.” She says in that self-deprecating tone you know well.

Your hand and mouth move before you think, “That’s not the only part of you I like to stroke.”

Whether by a lapse in understanding or simply because she lets you, your hand finds its mark before Agnes can stop it. The full width of your hand presses at the apex of her thighs. Your mouth drops open.

Agnes is painfully erect for the second time today with little work on your part.

She drops the spoon against the pan and removes your hand again, blunt nails biting into your skin in the way you like. You don’t react, still reeling from the information you’ve gleaned. Agnes libido isn’t what it once was—a reality of age—even if she’s like a well kept oldsmobile; capable of going the distance and then some once you get her properly started. But you’ve done very little in the way of actually getting her started since visiting the office.

“What on earth have you been up to today?” You ask, breathless.

“Don’t start.”

“I’d say you’re well past the starting point, given what I just felt.” A laugh escapes, then you pause, “You didn’t…”

Agnes curious gaze meets yours over her shoulder. Understanding dawns, along with indignation, “Of course not.”

“Needing a little extra help is normal.”

“This is all your doing.” She snaps, “Go sit down.”

“If it’s all my doing, you should let me fix it.” You coo.

In a sudden burst of movement, Agnes is out of your arms, sauce and pasta left behind on the stove. You blink. Did something happen at work? Have you hit a nerve?

She crosses the space to the kitchen table. The chair at the head of the table, facing the stove, is yanked from its resting place. You wince as it shrieks against the floor. But she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, turning the chair and meeting your eyes with a hard look, pointing.

“Sit.”

You move without thinking. There’s a subtle note of steel beneath the command that sends you into submission on instinct, like a pet might jump to obey their owner. The thought doesn’t chafe today; you want to be good, you want to obey.

Plopping down into the seat, hands settle on your shoulders. Agnes growls in your ear, “Stay.”

And you do.

As she finishes dinner, moving the pasta into the sauce with an unsure—but successful—flourish. As she nearly burns herself cutting the garlic bread fresh out of the oven. As she casts quick, dark glances your way every few minutes, as if having to make sure you’re where she left you.

You are the picture of poise and obedience, fighting every desperate urge for nearness to follow her command. But the longer she takes the harder it becomes. Hands settled on your thighs, your fingers scratch anxiously at the fabric of your pants, helpless and without any other way to expel this building energy.

“Agnes.” You whine.

“Quiet.”

It takes ages before she approaches you. She takes her sweet time putting dinner on plates, making it pretty in a way you know is just to drive you crazy; she doesn’t give two fucks about whether or not something looks nice as long as it tastes good.

Dinner is brought over to the table, but you tilt your head. Agnes only brought one plate.

“Up.” She commands, “You’re in my seat.”

You stand. Reaching for the chair next to hers, a hand on the back stops you from pulling it out. There’s the deep sound of porcelain meeting the wood of the table. As she leans around you, the scent of her cologne makes you dizzy.

Agnes snaps her fingers. You jolt, snapping back into your own mind. She points to the floor and your brows furrow. Then, it clicks, and your face grows warm.

You sink to your knees in front of Agnes’ chair as she sits in it.

“I can guess what a perp is going to do just by the way they sit in interrogation.” Agnes drawls, idly tapping her knee as her mind works, “But you… I can never guess how you’re going to act. Look at you now, all good and obedient for me, when you were acting like a whore in my office today.”

So caught up in the dizzying feeling of submission, you’ve been oblivious to the weight of your own desire. Agnes’ words change that in an instant. There’s a needy, pulsing beat between your legs, and you clench your thighs together in an attempt to help yourself. It doesn’t work.

“You started it.” You say, breathless.

You can’t breathe around your desire for her. Oxygen is a secondary need to the feel of her, whether she’s buried deep inside or grazing her fingers over your flesh; you want her and it hurts. But you keep your hands on the tops of your thighs.

Agnes chuckles. It’s a low, rolling thing. Agnes’ usual response to amusement is to grin, maybe even shake her head and scoff—laughter is a rare thing, aged and cultivated until it’s amber laced with smoke over your senses. You feel the heat of it. The intoxication it brings is warm, a weight settling comfortingly over the shoulders.

“I’m collecting on your offer from earlier.”

And with that, her thighs part, and you surge forward without being told. Her belt is unbuckled in one fell swoop. You moan, unable to help yourself, needy for the feel of her skin, to taste.

A testament to the overwhelm of your desire that the concept of toying with her again does not cross your mind. Your hand finds the desperate length of her cock, exposing it to the cool air.

It stands proud, tip flushed and leaking, veins stark against the fair skin. You pant. With single-focus, you lean forward.

An equally fair hand grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to Agnes’, “How many taps?”

You blink. You’re buried beneath desire, mind clawing its way to the surface.

“T-Three.”

Agnes nods and you’re free.

The first thing you do with your newfound freedom is flatten your tongue and lick a broad stripe up the length of her. The hand on your jaw goes slack in surprise, Agnes’ hips jumping. A groan echoes through the room.

You circle your tongue over the tip, drinking in her taste and the sounds falling from her lips. It’s heady, making the room fuzzy around the edges.

Submission brings with it a strange feeling of power. You’re doing as she bids, being good, but every sound and reaction coming from her is real; the truest manifestation of how well you’re doing to please her.

The world falls away. Your head feels floaty, strangely empty despite the manuevers you’re employing with your mouth. You don’t need words, you don’t need thoughts, you just need to offer Agnes whatever she wants.

Which you do by taking her cock in your mouth until she hits the back of your throat.

A thud sounds from her hand slamming on the tabletop, scrambling for something to grip as she chokes out, “Fuck!”

You do all you can to repress your gag reflex, forcing yourself to just relax everytime she hits the back of your throat. Agnes has her head thrown back, eyes closed, chest rising and falling as she pants, whimpering with every movement of your tongue and mouth.

Through it all, her hand remains on the side of your face, a careful guide. You can’t help the hand that sneaks under your skirt; Agnes is shaking with tension, begging to let go and chase her pleasure at your expense, but she’s holding herself back and guiding you through taking her in the way that would do the least harm.

You moan. Agnes’ cock twitches in your mouth and she matches your moan, a semblance of that control slipping with a particularly rough thrust. You gag, tears forming in your eyes.

The hand between your thighs shakes, fumbling for your clit while focusing on what really matters. You’re so wet there’s barely any friction.

You want Agnes to make you gag again. You want her to push into you and take what she wants until you’re crying.

Looking up, you try to will all of that thought and intent into your eyes, but Agnes’ are closed.

You whine.

Blue eyes regard you from beneath drooping lids. You will one thought into your mind and one thought only; use me.

Agnes swallows. The pad of a thumb runs under your eye, collecting some of the wetness there as if to say are you sure? In answer, you take as much of her as you can physically manage, eyes meeting her own the whole time.

Her restraint snaps.

Agnes’ hand travels to the back of your head, her hips moving faster and firmer than you can comprehend. She takes over completely; driving into you for what she needs, making you gag obscenely, without a thought in the world for if it is too much.

Not having to make choices allows you to focus on obtaining your own pleasure. With every tear she forces from your eyes, you swipe over the pulsating bud of your clit. You can feel your own orgasm building low in your gut.

“I’m going to cum.” Agnes groans.

Delight shoots through you. She’s going to cum and it’s because of you; because you were good and gave her everything she needs. It feels amazing.

Why, then, do you pull off and out of reach?

Agnes growls. You blink.

Words. There are words to go with the desire you feel. You close your eyes, searching for them, mentally scrambling at the edges until you can wrap your hands around them and their meaning.

“Can I…” You start, voice rough from the beating your throat has taken, “Can I ride you?”

Agnes makes quite the scene; splayed open on the dining room chair, hair a mess and eyes blown out, cock twitching and needy through the fly of the jeans she ruined only a few hours ago. You clench.

Agnes licks her lips, “Yeah, alright.”

You stand on shaking legs and Agnes holds up a hand, stopping you as she lifts her hips and fumbles in her back pocket. She obtains her wallet and rifles through until she locates a small foil wrapper.

It’s safer, you know. You’ve used one almost every other time for the duration of your marriage.

“Agnes.”

The woman in question pauses before opening the condom. Her brow pops up in an unspoken question.

The words are instinct, comprehensive thought still far away, “I want you to cum inside me.”

Outside, the world rages on. Westview residents race down the street, returning home from last minute errands, gifts in tow that they’ll have to sneak inside. The wind is kicking up and through the trees as snow grows closer with every second.

And then there is you and Agnes, tucked in the warmth of your home, caught in the weight of your words. Stopped in the face of the potential consequences.

Agnes throws the unopened condom on the kitchen table.

“Then come here.”

You stand with your legs on either side of her own, steadying yourself on her shoulders. One steady hand settles on your hip. The other pushes your panties aside and aligns her to your entrance as you lower into her lap.

You could take her in one motion with how wet you are. Yet, Agnes keeps your descent slow, careful. She watches your face with every inch you take—same as you watch hers.

Agnes’ chest is heaving, eyes dark and stormy, face pinched in concentration. She’s the most handsome person you’ve ever seen. You clench around her and her hands tighten on your waist.

“Sorry.” You murmur, out of habit.

Agnes raises a brow, but doesn’t respond, helping you down the last few inches. When you settle fully in her lap you let out the breath you’d been holding.

One hand sneaks under your skirt to trace shapes on the bare flesh of your hip.

“You pulled an interesting stunt with Vidal today.” Agnes says. The hand on your hip tightens, “I’m not so sure I should reward your behavior.”

“Then why let me…”

“Why deny myself just because you’re acting like a brat?”

There’s a small testing thrust of her hips. You clench. She groans, head falling back against the chair. You whimper. Trying to move your own hips, eager for what you’ve been denied, you find yourself held in place.

That’s not fair. All day she’s been teasing you, driving you to the edge of what you want—what you need, just to deny you.

“You started it.” You whine, trying to move your hips again, still finding yourself held stationary as she leisurely thrusts up, “You woke me up and got me all bothered, it’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, baby.”

“Please.” You whine, “It’s not my fault, please.”

Muscles in her arms tremble as she lifts you slightly before sinking you back down onto her. The fullness makes your toes curl but it isn’t enough.

“Calling me at work and getting me worked up wasn’t your fault?”

“…No.”

Agnes laughs, “If you’re going to lie, you could at least be convincing.”

You won’t win this fight by playing fair, not when Agnes is clearly uninterested in fairness.

“You… You feel so good. Can’t think properly.” You breathe, moaning a bit more than comes naturally, “I’m so full of you.”

The thrust of her is uneven. She stops moving you completely and you fight down a grin.

You press a hand between your bodies, applying pressure to your lower stomach as she continues to thrust, subtly picking up speed. Her pants are growing louder, a wheeze leaving her mouth when you press.

“That’s you.” You murmur, leaning forward and ghosting over her lips, tracing the bridge of her nose with the tip of your own. You press harder and enjoy the way she groans, “Nobody has ever been as deep inside me as you.”

“Fuck.” She snarls.

You’re pushed up again, suddenly empty, and whine, blinking at the change. But then her strong hands are on your hips and spinning you around.

Your front is pressed against the table, bent so your cheek rests on the top of it. The texture of her jeans is rough against the back of your thighs as she lines herself and fills you in one thrust.

“Oh, fuck!” You cry.

Agnes sets a brutal pace, chasing that which only you can offer. Every thrust has her cock brushing that perfect spot inside you and you lose control of whatever sounds you’re making.

“Is this what you wanted?” Agnes snarls in your ear, “For me to leave work and fuck you like some bitch in heat?”

“Yes!”

“You haven’t earned it.”

“No, Agnes, please!”

“Hold it.” She orders.

With every move she makes, you do all you can to ignore the pleasure, to pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s somewhat possible when it’s only her cock. But then she leans down and starts toying with your clit and you cry out, fighting not to roll your hips against them.

You want what you’ve been chasing all day, but you still want to be good. You’re her good girl, aren’t you? You have to keep being good even if it hurts.

So, you hold your orgasm at bay, while Agnes chases her own. Judging by the uneven rhythm of her hips it won’t take long.

“Please let me come, Agnes. Please.” You beg.

“Why should I?”

“I’ll give you anything—anything! Please, my love!”

“Anything, huh?”

The tone of her voice is low, dangerous. Layered with a rasp that nearly undoes you.

If she doesn’t let up, it doesn’t matter how good you are; you’re going to cum.

“Anything!”

Agnes phone is slammed down on the table right beside your head. It isn’t on, but you have the sinking feeling that you’ve just landed yourself into something far worse than expected.

Her thrusts stop, but she keeps a light, teasing pressure that grazes your clit just enough to keep you engaged without getting you off.

It is torture. And the silence building as you stare down the upturned cell phone is only making it worse.

“I’m going to make a call and turn on the speaker. Then, I’m going to fuck you. And you’re going to let whoever is on the phone hear you as I make you cum.”

The weight of it is like a lead weight of nerves in your stomach, “But—“

“If you want to act like a whore you’re going to be treated like one.” She snarls, then her tone grows softer, “Yes or no, angel?”

Whoever she calls and puts on the line, you’ll never be able to look in the eye again. But you’re so full and eager that you don’t truly care at this point.

Besides, it’s Christmas Eve, maybe everyone will be too busy to pick up.

“Yes.”

A harsh thrust that forces the air from your lungs, then her lips are next to your ear, breath hot, “That’s my girl.”

The echo of your own words from earlier make your toes curl. Her phone is snatched from the table and she continues to toy with your clit as she makes the call.

It rings… and rings… and rings…

Faintly, you hear the line connect, and you gasp.

You can’t make out who the voice belongs to, but you hear a faint, “Yeah?”

Agnes barks down the line, “Don’t say a word.”

The bang! as her phone hits the table again makes you jump, a small shriek leaving your lips. It wobbles. Faintly, you’re impressed she hasn’t broken the thing with how she abuses it.

A long finger slams down on the speaker button and as the phone tilts slightly, you read the name on the screen, and your eyes widen.

Vidal.

Before you can say a word, though, Agnes is back to work. Something in the action of being heard has made her more aggressive. You swear you can feel the bruises forming on your hips where she grabs, leveraging you for every single thrust.

You try to choke down your moans and whimpers, not wanting Agent Vidal to hear you like this, but Agnes won’t stand for it; one hand grabs your jaw and pries your mouth open.

She pushes in to the hilt and you let out a shrieking moan.

“You were so talkative before. Have you lost your nerve?”

“I—please—“

“Calling me this morning and getting me worked up, teasing me in the office, in the kitchen… and incapable of handling your punishment.”

“I’m sorry, Agnes. Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Use me. I want—I need you to fuck me until I can’t remember being without you—I need you to fuck me until you cum inside and make me yours forever—please!”

The knowledge that every word from your mouth is being heard by someone else is not forgotten, but you’ve been pushed beyond caring. Agnes is intent on making you beg for what you want and you want it bad.

Agnes’ fingers and cock alternate stimulating you. If her fingers are working, her hips aren’t—and vice versa. You’re frankly astonished she’s been able to last so long because you’re teetering on the edge of pleasure at the barest contact.

But her will has always been steel. And she wants to see you humiliated.

The hand on your clit slides to your lower stomach and presses, mimicking your own actions only minutes before, “When I knock you up, you’re going to feel it right here.”

Something inside you snaps. You wail.

Agnes’ hips are moving at a clip, every inch of her rubbing where you need, setting you alight from within. Her hand doesn’t move. The faster she goes, the deeper she drives, her hips begin to lose their rhythm.

Any words devolve into animalistic grunts as she ruts into you, mouth alternating between kissing and biting at your neck from behind.

You’re so fucking close. If she denies you now, you think you might die.

“Let me cum, Agnes, please—pretty please—I’ll be your good girl, please, I’ll be so good. Let me cum and fill me up, it’s all I want—“

Through gritted teeth, “Go on then.”

Something inside you snaps.

The command is exactly what you need. Your entire body clenches so tight you fear you may never relax again. You lose track of what noises leave your mouth, you think you may even lose consciousness for a few moments.

All you know when you come to is that your throat is raw and Agnes is driving into you, choking out in your ear, “Gonna cum—“

Her hips meet your own at full force and don’t pull back, remaining, pulsing forward as if she can’t get close enough. Every spasm of her cock paints your insides with her desire, marking you as hers. Agnes holds your hips as she presses in with every twitch, struggling to breathe.

Weakly, you reach a hand back to tangle in her hair. Your throat aches, “That’s it, baby. Fill me.”

A groan. Another rough twitch.

It reaches a point where the pressure ebbs. She remains, but she’s not twitching anymore, nor is she fighting to become one with you. There’s only the sound of your breathing in the room.

Agnes moves to straighten and pull out, but you whine, reaching back to grab whatever part of her you can reach.

“Stay.” You whisper.

She pauses.

A hand gently caresses along your spine, “You can’t stay like this, angel.”

“Just let me feel you a little longer.”

There’s a comfort in the fullness; in the knowledge that Agnes is the only woman who can provide this for you. That she even wants to.

It’s all a blur beyond that.

Eventually, you can’t stand being bent over on the table anymore, even if you never want to be without the feeling of Agnes inside you. The call with Vidal is disconnected at some point. You and your wife move slowly, hand in hand, up to your bedroom.

You gently shove her onto the bed while grabbing damp washcloths. Neither of you can stand a shower at this point.

The two of you take your time, being careful to mind the sore spots. You lean slightly into Agnes as you wipe some of the sweat from her flesh.

“You’re so good to me.” You murmur, kissing the underside of her jaw, “Thank you, my love.”

“Consider it an early Christmas gift, angel.”

You tamp down on the urge to say something sappy for her to scoff at. Instead, you guide her down and kiss her, soft and slow.

[leiawritesstories]

Impossible

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 13: Finding Out They're Pregnant @rowaelinscourt

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: medical talk, hospitals, mentions of infertility, vague depictions of medical tests

A/N: this is a little bit self-indulgent but also therapeutic--i had surgery for endometriosis this past summer, and part of recovering from that was how tf do i process all the implications of this diagnosis??? well...writing helps. anyway. Aelin has endo in this fic, but things go very different for her than they did for me lol.

Enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was still dark outside when Aelin’s alarm went off, the cheery tune she’d chosen breaking through her restless scraps of dreaming. With a mild groan, she rolled over and tapped the screen of her phone multiple times before she managed to turn off the alarm, eliciting a sleepy chuckle from her husband behind her. She poked him in the shoulder and stuffed her pillow over her head. 

“Five more minutes,” she mumbled. “Got another alarm.” 

Rowan tugged the pillow off of her head and fluffed it up. “Mmmkay, go back to sleep, love.” He tugged her back against his side, and she closed her eyes. 

And her alarm went off five minutes later. She grumbled at it, but she carefully extricated herself from Rowan’s embrace, turned off her alarm, and pushed herself out of bed. Leaving a kiss on his forehead, she tucked the blankets up and went quietly into the bathroom. A clean set of clothes already sat on the shelf beside the shower, and she smiled softly at her husband’s quiet thoughtfulness. She went through the motions of the shower rhythmically, her body working on muscle memory due to the too-early hour, making sure to scrub extra well with the antibacterial soap. Finished, she dried off and put on the clean, comfortable clothes Rowan had set out—sweatpants and a loose shirt. 

He was awake and half-dressed when she emerged from the bathroom, and his glasses sat crooked on his nose. She chuckled softly and straightened the wire frames, and he caught her wrists and tugged her gently into his lap. “Hey.” Fingers threaded through her loose, damp hair. “Want braids?” 

“Yeah.” She passed him her brush and two hair ties, and he carefully wove the blonde waves into twin braids down past her shoulder blades. “Someday, our future daughter is going to only want you to do her hair for school.” 

“Biggest win ever.” His voice, like hers, held a touch of muted yearning, weighed down by the hopelessness of two years trying to conceive without success. Aelin had been diagnosed with stage 3 endometriosis in her last year of college, while they were engaged, and she had put off surgery until her doctor finally said that the excision procedure was the best thing she could do for her chance of having a family. 

“I’m nervous,” she admitted. “I know Dr. T said this is the best thing for us right now, but I…I almost don’t want to hope.” 

“Fireheart,” Rowan breathed, standing so he could wrap his wife in his embrace. “It’s going to be okay, my love. I have more than enough hope for both of us.” 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

She held his hand the whole way to the hospital. 

When they arrived, the receptionist waved them towards the procedure center waiting area, and they sat down and waited in the early-morning quiet. Only a few others were there, including an older couple, a middle-aged woman, a half-asleep man, and a woman about Aelin’s age sitting with her mother. 

“Galathynius?” Aelin stood up and went to the desk, and she gave the receptionist her information. It only took a few minutes, and soon she was back in her seat with a green hospital bracelet around her right wrist and a clipboard with some papers on it. She handed Rowan the slip of paper with her patient information and went to work on the few forms. It was only a short while before a nurse with a softly lined face walked into the waiting area and called for Aelin, and she squeezed Rowan’s hand as she stood up. 

“I’ll see you soon,” she promised, and she followed the nurse through the double doors into the pre-procedure area. They walked down a quiet, gray-tiled hallway, the faint scent of disinfectant lingering in the sterile air. 

The nurse—her nametag read Philippa—stopped by a restroom door. “First question, Aelin.” She held out a clear plastic cup. “Did you remember to come with a full bladder?” 

“I did.” Aelin smiled. “Almost like I’ve had practice with this kind of thing.” 

Philippa chuckled. “Okay then, I don’t need to give you instructions. Go ahead, and when you’re done, I’ll be at the desk over there.” She gestured. “Take your time.” 

Aelin went into the bathroom and closed the door. Pregnancy screening was required as part of the pre-procedure preparations, and it was almost too familiar, almost too easy, to take care of the urine sample and close up the plastic cup. So many tests flickered before her eyes, so many single lines, so many negative results. The only thing that gave her any hope was that Dr. Yrene was firmly convinced that this surgery would improve her chances of conceiving, since the endometriosis lesions would no longer be there to interfere with things. She handed Philippa the cup and followed her down to a small, clean room, where a hospital gown, cap, and socks sat on the bed beside a plastic sack and a sleeve of chlorhexidine wipes. 

“You know what to do, I’m sure, but I still have to give you the rundown.” Philippa let Aelin take a seat in the chair across from the bed and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her right arm. “Wash with the wipes and change into the gown, blah blah blah, and your nurse will come in to get you all hooked up and ready to go.” She checked the blood pressure reading and jotted it down. “Oh, and if there’s anything else we need you to do, your nurse will let you know. Looks like you’ll have Sorscha, and she’s wonderful.” 

“Thank you,” Aelin murmured, giving the older woman a grateful smile as she left the room and closed the door. She had just finished getting herself into the gown and bright yellow socks when there was a rapping on the door and a woman of about her own age with soft caramel skin and a warm smile cracked open the door and poked her head into the room. 

“Aelin, right?” 

“That’s me.” Aelin sat down against the pillows. “Right on time.” 

“I’m Sorscha.” The nurse came into the room. “I’m sorry to disturb you before you might be ready, but your pregnancy screening came back positive.” 

The world around Aelin went silent. 

She shook her head slowly, bringing herself back into the present. “I…what?” Her breath hitched, shock creeping up her throat, and she clasped her hands together in front of her stomach. “It has to be a false positive; there’s not a chance I’m actually…” Pregnant. The word she couldn’t let herself say. 

Sorscha looked down at her clipboard, flipped a few papers. “Would you like to take a digital test by yourself? It could be a false positive, and we do need to be absolutely sure of the result because you’re scheduled to go under general anesthesia.” 

Aelin nodded. “Yes, please. I do want to take another test.” 

“Got it.” Sorscha walked her back to the bathroom and grabbed a digital test from the nurse’s station. She handed the box to Aelin and let her go into the bathroom alone. “Bring it on out when you’re done, okay? There is a possibility that we might have to do an ultrasound if you think you’ve had a false positive, but that’s easy to do.” She squeezed Aelin’s trembling hand. “You’re going to be okay, Aelin.” 

“Okay.” More hesitantly than before, Aelin went into the bathroom, locked the door, sat down, and took the pregnancy test out of the box. She went through the motions robotically, tucked the test back into the cap, and turned it over while she waited. Questions spun around her head at the speed of light, but she pushed them away, weighing them down with the strength of her doubt. She knew her ovulation window, and she’d had her period regularly. It just…it wasn’t possible. 

The timer pinged, and Aelin picked up the test, turned it over, and read the single line of text displayed on the tiny gray screen. And her whole body trembled, shaken by the force of hope that crashed into her as she read that second test. 

Pregnant. 3+. 

Shakily, she walked out and wordlessly handed the test to Sorscha, who took one look at it and helped Aelin sit down in the nearest chair. “You’re going to be okay,” she said again, reassuring Aelin as the tears finally broke free and spilled down her face. 

“I—” A great shuddering sob wrenched Aelin’s shoulders, and she just let her body loose to the tide of overpowering shock and disbelief and wonder and worry. “I think I’m dreaming,” she choked out, her words broken with tears. “It’s been two years; I didn’t think it was possible.” She wiped her eyes. “God, I’m sorry, here you are just trying to do your job and I’ve turned into a hot mess express in front of everyone.” She sniffled. 

Sorscha gave her a hug, and Aelin leaned into the comforting gesture. “How about we go back to your pre-op room and talk about next steps?” 

“Okay.” Aelin followed Sorscha back to the room, and she sat down on the bed while the nurse pulled up her charts on the computer. “So…what now?” 

“Well, the main thing is that you won’t be able to have the surgery that you were scheduled for, but that’s a very good thing because you’re pregnant.” Sorscha clicked through a few things. “I’ve paged your doctor, and she should be in soon to discuss what she wants you to do, but my suspicion is that she’ll order an immediate ultrasound to check on things and maybe have you do some blood tests. It’s convenient that you’re in the hospital, because you don’t have to go anywhere.” 

Aelin laughed softly, flicking stray tears away from her face. “Okay.” 

Right on cue, there was another knock on the door, and Dr. Yrene Towers came in, her copper curls tied back into a bun. “Well hello, Aelin! Seems like today might not go exactly as we planned.” 

“That’s one way to say it,” Aelin agreed. 

The doctor looked over at the charts that Sorscha had pulled up. “Okay, Aelin, I’d like for you to go up to the imaging clinic and get an ultrasound done.” She stepped over to the computer and rapidly typed up an order that she sent to the imaging center. “Since a surgeon ordered it, they’ll be able to do it right away, and this will either confirm your pregnancy for certain or prove that you had false positives. In the first case, we’ll turn to prenatal care, and in the second, we can go ahead with surgery. How does that sound?” 

“Sounds great.” Aelin glanced down at herself. “Should I change?” 

“Actually, it might be easier if you kept the gown on for now, since they’ll probably want to do an internal ultrasound.” Dr. Yrene looked over at Sorscha. “Can you take her to imaging, Sorscha?” 

“Of course.” 

“Perfect.” 

Sorscha slipped out of the room and came back a few minutes later with a wheelchair, and she got Aelin settled and took her down the hallways and up an elevator to the fourth floor, where the imaging clinic was located. She spoke briefly to the receptionist and took Aelin into the clinic, bringing her into a softly-lit room. An ultrasound tech was waiting, Aelin’s order pulled up on her screen. She conferred briefly with Sorscha and helped Aelin get situated on the exam bed. 

After a brief explanation and demonstration of the ultrasound probe, the tech started the scan, and it was only a few minutes before Aelin looked over at the screen opposite her and saw a teeny tiny baby moving gently around inside of her uterus. 

The tears welled up again, and she didn’t stop them. 

“Congratulations,” the tech murmured, and she clicked away at the ultrasound machine, making notes and recording measurements. Aelin stared at the image of the tiny baby, overcome by an emotion so strong she didn’t have the proper words for it, and she was surprised when the tech finished the exam and asked her if she wanted prints of the images. 

Sorscha came back and took Aelin back down to the pre-procedure area, and she found herself back in the exam room with her ultrasounds, waiting for Yrene. The doctor brought in her own set of Aelin’s ultrasounds, and she was beaming when she came into the room. 

“I’m so happy for you and your husband,” she said. “He doesn’t know yet, of course, but when we bring him back, you’ll be able to tell him all about it. Did you want to wait for him to discuss prenatal care, or would you like to talk about the details with me first?” 

“Tell me first.” Aelin stroked her thumb over the black-and-white images. “I want to know how far I am and why the heck I didn’t know.” 

Yrene chuckled. “Well, according to the way things are measuring and the dates you’ve tracked for ovulation, you are twelve and a half weeks, almost out of the first trimester.” She pointed to part of one image. “Now, the reason you didn’t know is probably partially due to your endometriosis giving you false periods and partially because, as you see here, you have an anterior placenta, which means that the placenta is in the front of the uterus. So, you might not show any bump until later in pregnancy, and it will probably not be quite as big as you might expect.” She ran through a list of more details, pointing out relevant things on the ultrasounds. “All right, then, I think we’re ready to bring your husband back. Is there anything else you want to ask me?” 

“Could you have them do the blood draw before you bring Rowan back? I want to have it all taken care of before he sees me.” 

“Of course.” Yrene spoke quietly to Sorscha, and when the blood draw was done and Aelin had a small bandage in the crook of her elbow, both the nurse and the doctor left the room. It was Yrene who walked in shortly later with Rowan, and she grinned at Aelin as she left the two of them alone. 

“Hey, Fireheart.” Rowan’s brows furrowed in confusion as he looked around the room. “Is something wrong?” 

She shook her head. “Not at all.” 

“But you’re…” 

“I know.” She looked down at herself, still in the hospital gown but not hooked up to IVs and monitors like he’d expected her to be. “They can’t do the surgery right now, Rowan.” Her throat thickened, and she looked up at her husband with tears gleaming in her eyes. “Because I’m pregnant.” 

“What?!” He staggered backwards, his body going nearly boneless as he collapsed into the chair, shock and hope washing over his face. 

Aelin handed him the ultrasound photos, watched the joy brighten his features as he drank in the sight of their tiny baby cradled inside of her. “Twelve and a half weeks, and I didn’t believe the tests until I saw the ultrasound.”

“Fireheart,” he breathed, standing so he could go to her and wrap her in his loving arms. His tears dropped into her hair, but she ignored them, just as he ignored how her tears blotched his shirt. “This…I think this is the best thing that could have happened.” 

She chuckled through her tears. “Almost—I can’t have the surgery until after I give birth, but this is…definitely something we both hoped for.” 

“Yeah.” So gently, his thumb swept the tears from her cheeks. “And twelve weeks?”

“Yeah.” Grinning, she lifted his slack jaw back into place. “Dr. Yrene will talk to both of us about where we go from here.” He nodded, and she let him sit down on the bed beside her and loop his arm around her waist, his strength always her rock. The doctor walked back in and beamed at both of them, and she sat down and gave them a whole list of prenatal instructions. 

“But really, most of all, you know what works best for you and your health,” she concluded. “I like to tell my patients not to get too obsessed with the mommy books and social media mom advice, but gods know I can’t control that. I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay?” 

“Thank you so much.” Aelin impulsively hugged her doctor. After Yrene left, she turned back to Rowan, and she brushed the stray tears off of his chin. “It’s good news, love. It’s such good news.” 

“I know.” He passed her clothes to her, and she changed out of the hospital gown. A nurse came back to walk them out of the hospital, and they left with a completely different set of instructions than they’d expected when they arrived only a couple of hours earlier. 

 An entirely different outcome, but a miracle nonetheless.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

[max-w0lf68]

Chapter 2 - Making Plans

Word count: ~1.1k

Please see Masterlist for warnings.

(World view reference: 101 Willow Dr.)

-The Next Morning-

I awake to the sound of my alarm, frantically shutting it off as it's sound is seemingly piercing in the morning silence.

As I lay my head back down on my pillow, the ceiling looks unfamiliar to me and I quickly sit up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, and looking around the room.

As my eyes adjust and the morning brain fog clears, I remember where I am.

I take a deep breath, calming myself back down and stand up. I then head to the master bath to get dressed for my morning run.

As I run from the circle drive, past Yunhos house, and down the street, I take in the fresh air and light breeze. Enjoying the sunlight and beautiful neighborhood, I find myself somewhat lost in thought. That is until I almost run smack into someone, barely stopping in time.

"I'm so sorry! I was a bit lost in thought, that could've ended badly." I panicingly apologize to the girl standing in front of me with her hand over her chest and a shocked expression.

"Oh no! It's okay! I wasn't really paying much attention either!" She brushes off the apology with a frantic wave of her free hand. "I was coming to check the mail since I just woke up. I should have looked before just stepping onto the main walkway."

Her shy smile as she babbled matched her soft appearance. I couldn't help but think that she was absolutely adorable.

"Looks like it's both of our faults then." I laugh, trying to lure her mind away from blaming herself.

She giggled in return. "I don't think I've seen you around here before?" She stated very curiously, almost questioning as she tilted her head slightly.

"My family owns 113, I just moved back late yesterday afternoon." I explain, pointing in the direction of my home.

"Oh! Well, welcome back!" She smiles very sweetly, holding out her hand. "I'm Heeyoung!"

"My name's Jaemin, Nice to meet you." I return the smile shaking her hand gently.

"Okay, well I'll let you get back to your run. Don't be a stranger Jaemin." She says as she opens her mailbox, grabbing the mail, then starts back up her driveway, a slight skip in her step.

"Thanks." I reply, waving as she makes her way back to her porch, a man standing in the doorway with a confused look on his face. "Who is that?" I could hear him asking as I started back on my run, Heeyoung's soft voice fading as I gained distance.

I reach the end of the road and look both directions before crossing, walking up to the open blue coffee shop doors.

When I walk in, I immediately stop as I see 2 people bickering at eachother and chuckle under my breath, shaking my head.

"You two are at it already? You've only been back for a day and it's only 9am." I tease.

The brunette behind the counter looks over to me. "They have been at it since she walked in the door yesterday. Please help my poor ears." He half jokes with a very 'over it' expression.

"Look Sunoo, Yeri started it!" The blonde protests.

"I did not!" Yeri whines turning to me. "Jaeee, Key is being mean to me already.." she pouts, sticking out her bottom lip and attempting puppy eyes.

"Why, he wouldn't give you the babygirl treatment?" I tease at her.

Yeri and I have been friends since we were in diapers. When Mom and I moved away, she came with us. Leaving her shop in the care of our other friends we've known since our early school days…Key, Sunoo, and Minho. We have roomed together since, and when I moved back she followed.

Yeri stared at me with her jaw dropped, visibly appalled that I didn't automatically take her side.

"Have you even unpacked everything from your car yet?" I poked at her.

Just then Minho walks by the open entrance where I am standing. "This is the last box." He says, making his way to the open door leading to the upstairs apartment and I tisk at Yeri.

"Whatever. Minho is my favorite anyways!" Yeri huffs, plopping down into the closest chair to her.

Key and Sunoo both roll their eyes, as I just laugh and take the seat directly across from her, Key sitting to my right. Sunoo then walks out from behind the counter with a wooden tray holding 5 very different drinks, setting it down on the table and taking a seat in the open chair to my left.

He knew exactly what coffees to make for our group.

A chocolate chip mocha blended frappuccino with barley any espresso for Yeri.

A hot americano for Key.

An iced americano for Minho.

A mint chocolate blended frappuccino for himself.

And finally, an iced caramel white mocha with hazelnut syrup for me.

As he is passing the respective drinks to each person, Minho returns through the door, pulling up a chair from a separate table and placing himself between Yeri and Sunoo.

The group of us catch up, we make plans to host a welcome party at my place.

"Who would we invite? Most of the houses on the block have been bought out by the college and turned into dorm like estates, so we don't really know anyone here anymore." I point out, as Yeri and I haven't been home in a while.

"Well, everyone in the neighborhood are pretty friendly. And the estates don't belong to the college directly, the owner just prefers to rent out rooms in the houses to college students since it's close to the school." Minho informs.

"Exactly. So you could really invite whoever. You know we're all down and I'm sure Jackson and his group would be up for it too." Sunoo suggests.

"Yeah, we could just invite the neighborhood and whoever shows up, shows up." I state, open to meeting new people.

"You and being social." Yeri rolls her eyes.

"Well we can't all be hermits who stay inside and avoid people all day, like you." Key teases her.

"Ya know what?! Fine! Invite everyone! Let's have a party!" Yeri protests Key's accusations, standing up and making her way to the back counter.

The rest of us laugh at the way Key knows exactly how to get under Yeri's skin.

"Then it's decided. I'll work on the invitations tonight." I finish, standing up and helping the others carry empty glasses to the counter.

"Now, speaking of Jackson, I need to go talk to him anyways, so I'm gunna head out. I'll bring invitations by in the morning!" Waving goodbye to my close friends, I walk out the door and head towards Jackson's place.

[crimson-calligraphyx]

Death is All Around | part VIII

The room was spinning, my head pounding from the unnecessarily bright lights in the waiting room while adrenaline coursed through me. I tried my absolute best to keep calm as I waited to hear any sort of news about Billy. When we had arrived at the hospital in the ambulance, they immediately took him in and started poking and prodding him with whatever they could before whisking him away from me. I was stuck in my mind, fearing the absolute worst. Was the stab wound superficial or was it life threatening? Was he going to make it out of here alive?

I was pacing back and forth, chewing on my thumbnail just as Tatum runs in and scoops me into her arms. "God, Sidney, I heard the news from Dewey and got here as soon as I could! Are you okay? What happened?" I buried my face into her shoulder, squeezing her as I let out the sobs I couldn't hold back any longer. She hushed me, running a hand down the back of my head as she let me cry into her. "I'm so scared, Tate," I whimpered, picking my head up off her shoulder after a moment."Billy will be okay, I promise," she holds me steady, wiping the tears from my cheeks. "Was it...him?" She asks cautiously. I wrench my eyes shut, nodding. "He was trying to protect me," I whispered. "It's all my fault. Billy's hurt because of me," I sob. "Stop that, it's not your fault. He's hurt because that guy is a menace, Sid." "But he was coming after me, Tatum!" I shout. "Shh, shh," she guides me to sit in one of the vacant seats and plops down next to me. "Take a breather. Everything will be okay, Billy's where he needs to be, Dewey and his department are working on finding this asshole—"

Tatum was cut off when we were approached by one of the medical staff. "Are either of you Miss Prescott?" I sniffle and straighten out, turning my attention to him and nod my head 'yes'. "I'm afraid I have some news that may be alarming to you," he starts off, and immediately my heart jumps into my throat. "After we had given Mr. Loomis a CT scan, we assessed that he is in need of surgery for his wound." "What?" I gasp, clasping my hand over my mouth. "I-is he going to be okay?" I cried out, tears welling in my eyes. He holds his hands out in a reassuring gesture, "I'm sure everything will be okay, Miss Prescott. The blade reached the peritoneum; the muscles it tore through need to be repaired. If it had gone any deeper, he would be in a much worse condition..."

His words started to fade out as I took in the information, replaced by the image of his wound gushing out blood and covering my hands as I tried to stop the bleeding. I could feel the warmth of it, the stickiness of it against my fingertips as my hands trembled against his lifeless body. That same revolting, metallic scent that I never wanted to experience again flooded my nose, causing me to gag and slap a hand to my mouth for the second time tonight. Within seconds, I emptied everything that I had in my stomach into my hand, collapsing to the floor shortly after. All I could hear was Tatum's distressed yells as she begged for someone to help me before everything went black.

When I woke up a little while later, I found myself in my own hospital bed with yet another splitting headache. Groaning, I lifted my hand to my head, an unfamiliar sensation brushing against my arm. I looked down at my arm, seeing I had an IV stuck into my hand and immediately got nauseas—I hated needles. Glancing around the room to take my attention off the IV, I spotted Tatum snoozing in a chair beside me. "Hey," I croaked out, barely audible, and cleared my throat. "Tate, wake up."

I watch her eyebrows furrow before she slowly peeks open an eye. When she notices that I'm speaking to her, she sits up and breathes deep, stretching. "Hey, you're awake," she greets me softly. "How are you feeling?" I shrug, "I've been better, honestly," I swallowed, trying to moisten my dry throat. "Why am I in here?" She stands and wheels the dinner tray over to me to allow me access to the water sitting on it, noting the hoarseness in my voice. "You threw up and passed out, again," she informs me as she pours me a cup of water. I accept the drink, taking a long sip, unsure how to reply to that. "Don't you think that's a little concerning, Sid?" she gives me a wary glance. I shrug, "I don't know, maybe. Things haven't exactly been sunshine and rainbows as of late." She flashes a sympathetic grin, giving my shoulder a light squeeze as a nurse makes their way into the room.

"Oh good, you're awake," she greets me, planting a smile on her face. "How are you feeling?" I sighed, annoyed that I'm about to go through the same conversation. "I have a splitting headache," I mumble. "That's to be expected; you were severely dehydrated," she motions her clipboard to the IV in my arm. "When's the last time you've eaten or drank anything?" "I ate some Halloween candy earlier. I know, not very nutritional but that's all I was in the mood for at the time," I say with a chuckle. She purses her lips into a tight smile, flipping through the pages in front of her. "Well, other than the dehydration, you seem to be quite healthy. We just want to make sure you're getting the proper fluids and nutrition before we discharge you. We also have some other results that we would like to go over with you."

-

When I was finally able to visit Billy in his room, it was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders just being in his presence. He was still unconscious, but he looked so peaceful with the deep rise and fall of his chest as he slept, his face so calm, even with the cannula in him. The color in his face was slowly returning to normal, which brought me some relief. I hated that he was still asleep, though, because I really needed him here with me. He was the only thing that made me feel truly safe, and I wanted nothing more than to be secured in his arms.

I made my way over to the side of his bed, grasping his limp hand in mine, disappointed when I didn't feel him squeeze back. Sighing, I took a seat at the edge of his bed, never taking my eyes off him. "I don't know if you can hear me or not, but if you can... I really need you to make it out of this mess, Billy," I say to him, watching for any sort of change in his state. I listened to the heart monitor continue its steady beep, praying for it to speed up just a little to indicate he was waking up. My heart sank when nothing changed, bringing tears to my eyes. "I'm just so scared, Billy," I whispered, now running my thumb over his knuckles. "I feel like my whole world has been flipped upside down, and I'm unsure of what to do." My voice cracks as a cry makes its way out of me, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Carefully, I lie down beside him, placing his arm behind me and tucking my head into his armpit. I aimlessly trail my fingers over his chest, "Life is so fragile, so short," I mutter, "created and destroyed within seconds. And I am so, so sick of it constantly being destroyed. It's like death is all around me... Please don't have me go through it again." I roll my face into his body, muffling the sobs that I couldn't confine anymore.

Suddenly, an arm is draped over my side and startles me, causing me to jump. I lift my head slowly and wipe my eyes, stifling my cries as I take in the view in front of me. I'm met with a glimpse of Billy's mesmerizing espresso-brown eyes, lids still heavy from the medication running through him. I place my hand on his cheek, turning his face towards mine gently as his lips softly pull upwards. "Hey," he croaks, straining to kiss my forehead. I sit up, guiding his head back down onto the pillow, "Don't, just rest," I whisper, a smile spreading across my face. "Thank God you're alive." He chuckles quietly, "Yeah, but I don't feel it." I let out a sad laugh, sniffling. "I know, you must be in a lot of pain." "Actually, I can't feel a damn thing," he laughs, picking up his other arm that had the IV stuck in him. "They got me all hopped up on morphine." "Enjoy the ride," I giggle, leaning forward to give him a kiss.

He brings his hand up to my face, swiping his thumb across my cheek. "Please stop crying, Sid; I'm okay. I may be a stuck pig, I may be down for a little while, but I'm okay," he assures me with a chuckle. "Okay, okay," I let out a little laugh. "I'm sorry, but I can't help worrying. You could have died, Billy." "But I didn't," he retorts, brushing a piece of my hair behind my ear. "I'm here to stay. I'll do whatever I can to protect you, Sidney." He takes my face with both hands now, crushing his lips into mine. We stay like this for a moment, basking in the way our lips synced together, a sense of security enveloping me. I pull away after a brief moment, resting my forehead against his, admiring the way his eyes sparkled. "I feel the safest when I'm with you," I whispered. He wraps his arms around my waist, holding me to him as best as he could. "Good. That's my goal."

|Chapter 9|

[specialagentsergio]

side effects may vary

summary: An unexpected side effect brings you and Spencer closer—literally—when he’s prescribed a medication to help relieve his chronic nightmares.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: prescription drug use, one small sexual reference, discussion of tornadoes (spencer gives a small infodump)

a/n: i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins‘ “there was only one bed” event. when i saw the “medication makes someone sleepy” prompt, i had to take it, because this happens to me regularly lol.

word count: 2k

masterlist

It’s become a habit for you and Spencer: every Friday night you can, the two of you get together and watch a movie or show. It’s always at your place because he doesn’t have a TV, but he doesn’t mind—you have the better couch anyways. He thinks he could stay on it forever, especially on the nights where you don’t watch anything at all and talk for hours instead.

He made the mistake of mentioning this Friday night tradition to Morgan once. He’d questioned just why, exactly, Spencer liked going over to your place so much. Spencer hadn’t realized Derek was teasing him until he’d already come up with the lame excuse of your couch being really comfortable.

Morgan had chuckled. “I think it has less to do with the couch and more to do with the person who owns it, kid.”

He was right, of course, but was Spencer going to admit his silly little crush? Absolutely not. Especially not to Derek. He just continued going to your place every Friday, stubbornly ignoring the smirks and eyebrow wiggles sent his way from the man.

It’s one such night a few months later when an alarm on his phone goes off, making you both jump. He nearly spills the popcorn everywhere in his scramble to turn it off. “Sorry. It’s—wow, it’s nine already.” As usually happens when he’s with you, he’s lost track of time. It’s why he set the alarm in the first place.

“You have somewhere to be?” you ask.

“Um, no. I just…” he trails off, leaning forward to dig through his satchel at his feet, searching for the white paper bag he picked up from the pharmacy earlier in the day.

You don’t ask aloud, raising an eyebrow instead. It’s you providing him with an out—you’ll let him pretend he didn’t see it if he doesn’t want to answer the question.

He sighs, pulling the little orange bottle out, a prescription from the psychiatrist you’d coaxed him into seeing. “It’s just, uh… it’s supposed to help with, y’know… dreams,” he explains quietly.

“Nightmares,” you clarify.

“Yeah. That’s what the alarm was for.” He pops the cap and looks at the little pills inside. “To remind me.”

“We can finish this later,” you say with a gesture towards the TV. “It’s okay if you need to leave.”

He shakes his head. “She said to take it a few hours before bed. There’s plenty of time to finish.” Not that he cares that much about the show. He just doesn’t want to cut his time with you short.

“The bottle says it can make you drowsy, though,” you say, pointing out the little flap on the side of the bottle he hadn’t noticed.

“It won’t,” he dismisses nearly immediately, shaking a dose out into his hand.

“You can’t know that.”

“I’m a chronic insomniac. I’ve tried medication before. It doesn’t work,” he says firmly.

“If you say so,” you say, unconvinced.

“I do.”

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The words on their own typically imply annoyance or resignation, an insistence that the speaker knows better, but from you, all he can detect is amusement. And if he didn’t know better, he’d say your slight smile conveyed affection.

“Oh, I won’t,” he replies confidently, and takes the dose with a sip of water.

That confidence turns out to be misplaced.

It doesn’t happen quickly. You finish watching the current episode and he insists on another. About halfway through it, he starts to feel… different. A little… foggy and unfocused. Any movement he makes feels slow, and his eyelids are getting heavy. Try as he might, he can’t quite keep them open. He’ll rest them for just a minute….

“… encer. Spencer.” Something pokes his arm and he grumbles, shifting away.

“What?”

“It’s over.”

He blinks a few times, slowly reacquainting himself with his surroundings. Credits are rolling on the TV screen; he's about to ask why they look slanted, then realizes it's because he's slumped to the side. He pushes himself back to sitting, a delayed "oh" leaving his mouth. He rubs the sleep from one of his eyes, and catches your expression in the other.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything!" you protest but the little laugh punctuating your words gives away what he knew you were thinking: I told you so.

With a sigh, he begins gathering up his things, pulling his bag into his lap and untying his shoelaces so he can put them back on.

“What are you doing?" you ask.

"Um, going home?"

"You can't ride the Metro like this," you say. "You're half asleep."

He tries and fails to suppress a yawn, but still insists, "I'll be fine."

"Spencer, I don't like you riding the Metro this late even when you're totally lucid. You know that."

He does. You often express such worries on your Friday nights, offering to let him stay with you. He always declines. Your couch may be comfortable when he's sitting, but it's not long enough for his legs horizontally.

He also worries about what he might say in his sleep. He's been playfully teased by team members often enough already. The last thing he wants is to ruin your friendship by expressing his feelings for you in his sleep.

He's got one shoe on and is about to put on the other, but you snatch it away. "Hey."

"No,” you say firmly. "You're staying here tonight."

"(Y/N)--"

"Take your shoe off." You flip the TV off, stand, and stretch. "And come to bed."

His mouth drops open a little. Come to bed. Did he really just hear that? You say it like it's the most natural thing. It sounds so...domestic.

He really likes it.

His eyes follow you as you walk to your bedroom. You stop in the doorway and look back to him. "Come on."

He's in a bit of a daze as he walks towards you, not realizing he's still wearing one shoe for a few steps. He clumsily kicks it off, then follows you through the bedroom door and into the adjoining bathroom, where you provide him with a spare toothbrush.

Normally he wouldn't want to share toothpaste with someone. He's even refused to do so a few times on cases when his little travel-sized tube has run out, instead going down to the front desk of whatever place they're staying at for a replacement, no matter how tired he is. But tonight he doesn't even think twice, just takes the tube when you pass it to him. It simply feels...normal, as if you and him do this every night before bed.

I could get used to this.

Spencer's still a little groggy from the medication, so it isn't until he’s standing in the bedroom that he realizes that there’s a problem. "There's only one bed."

"Um, yeah," you reply. "What, did you think I had bunk beds?"

"No, I just..." He's not sure how to explain it when you're pulling back the covers like it’s any other night. "There's one bed... and two of us."

"That's correct. It's a queen. It's made for two people," you point out. You sit down on one side, then pat your hand on the other.

He slowly approaches the bed, but hesitates, twisting his fingers a little. Your expression shifts, and he blinks. Surely that's not a look of disappointment he's seeing?

Your voice is quiet when you speak. "Spencer, if you don't want to share a bed with me, you can just say it."

"What? No!" he exclaims. "That—that's not it at all."

"Okay, then, what is it?"

"The opposite,” he says with a nervous laugh. “I can't believe you want to share a bed with me."

"Why wouldn't I?" You say it so simply; he can hardly believe it.

"Well, because I'm... me," is the reply he comes up with. "I'm annoying, and I talk too much, and my limbs are all long and weird--"

"I don't think you're annoying, Spencer," you interrupt. "We wouldn't be friends if I did."

"Oh. I guess... I guess that's true. But my arms and legs--”

"Are fine,” you reassure.

“I…” He’s a little too out of it still to think of something else. “Well, okay.”

“Since that settled..." You smile up at him. "Would you get into bed?"

He can't help but smile back. "Okay."

You both settle in. Right before you turn off the light, he speaks again. "I talk in my sleep," he says quickly, heat rising to his cheeks. "Just thought you should know.

"So I'm gonna get your fun facts in the night, too?" you ask, the corner of your mouth turning up.

"Maybe." He fiddles with the collar of his shirt. "Derek says every night is a toss up between that or gibberish…”

You laugh. "Noted."

You turn the lights off and silence falls over the room as you both find comfortable positions. The medication definitely hasn't worn off; sleep is quickly approaching him again. He feels a light touch on his arm. It trails down to his wrist. A slight pause, then you're sliding your hand into his. On instinct he winds his fingers through yours. He hears a content sigh right before he drifts off.

---

Morning light spilling through the curtains wakes him up. He takes in a deep breath and stretches. He feels amazingly well rested; more than he has in a long time. And he had the best dream about you….

Spencer rolls over, then jumps a little—you're right there next to him, awake and looking at him with a soft expression.

"So it wasn't a dream," he says aloud.

You smile. "No, it wasn't.”

"We slept in the same bed," he says, dumbstruck.

"We did."

"You... held my hand?"

A nod and a bashful smile. “I did."

"Huh." He's quiet as he processes this and gathers his memories together. There's a question that comes to mind, but he doesn't know if he’s brave enough to voice it. Instead, he asks, "Did I sleep talk?"

"You did," you reply. "You told me the widest recorded tornado was 2.6 miles wide."

"The 2013 El Reno tornado," he says automatically. "It’s also the second most powerful tornado recorded. It occurred on May 31 of that year. Though it officially ranks as the widest tornado on record, current Doppler estimates of the 1999 Mullhall, Oklahoma tornado indicate that it may have been 4.3 miles wide."

You blink. "That's terrifying."

Spencer winces. "Sorry."

"It's okay." You hesitate a little, biting your lower lip, then slowly reach out and take his hand. Again, his fingers thread through yours perfectly.

He looks down at your joined hands, then back at you. His question from before returns. "What does this mean?" he asks quietly.

"It means..." You take a deep breath. "I like you.”

He frowns. "I know that. That's why we're friends."

"That's not what I meant." You squeeze his hand as if to remind him that you're holding it. "I meant that I like you as more than a friend."

His eyebrows shoot up. “Really?" he squeaks.

"Really," you confirm. "If you don't feel the same, I understa--”

You're cut off by him leaning forward and pressing the lightest little kiss on your lips.

"I like you as more than a friend, too," he says softly.

You give him the most wonderful smile. "Then get back here and kiss me properly."

Spencer obliges. He's never cared less about morning breath.

You scoot closer to him when you break apart and push his limbs around slightly to get into an embrace. "Finally," you murmur into the skin of his neck.

The sensation makes him shiver. “What do you mean?"

"I’ve been trying to get you into my bed for weeks."

He nearly chokes on his own sharp inhale. "I—what?"

"Not like that," you clarify. "I just wanted a good opportunity to confess. I figured you'd be too comfy in bed to run off right after I told you."

“You think I'd run off on you?"

You shrug. “You tend to remove yourself from a situation if your feelings get too intense. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but in this case, it’s the last thing I wanted to happen, you know?”

"Yeah, I get that,” he says. "I promise not to do it with you, though. About anything.”

You lift your head to look him in the eyes. “Kiss me again."

Spencer does.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

smut follow up: hands to myself

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor​ , @spencerreid9​

[ijustwant2write]

Fight or Flight-Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

(GIF credit to @ladycolinbridgerton​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hiii,Love your writings! Could you do something Bridgerton, Anthony x reader where the reader tries to stop the duel and gets hurt? Angst/fluff?!’

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Daphne Bridgerton x Reader (sister-in-law), Collin Bridgerton x Reader (brother-in-law)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Duel (guns, mention of death), injuries, angst, fluff

                                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Collin and I laughed as we both carried Violet through the foyer of the home, clearly someone had too much to drink. My mother-in-law continued to deny this through her giggling.

“Of course not, you are completely sober.” Collin joked as we made it to the stairs.

“And I’m sober enough to know when you’re being impertinent.” Violet said to her son, still holding my hand.“Good night dears.”

“Good night mother.”

“Good night.”

Collin and I shared a look as she went upstairs, failing to hold in our laughter. We both doubled over as we laughed, until we heard someone call us. Turning to our left, we saw Anthony and Benedict in the doorway.

“Come here.” Anthony hissed.

“Good God. Did someone die?” Collin whined.

“What? What’s happened?” I asked, suddenly panicking. 

“Collin, get here, now.” Anthony instructed, his younger brother complying. 

I followed.“Anthony, what’s wrong? Is someone hurt? Are you in trouble?” I didn’t mean for all the questions but I loved him too much for something to happen to him.

He shoved Collin inside, stepping out and shutting the door behind him.“It doesn’t concern you darling. Just go up to bed.”

“Wait,” I grabbed onto his arm before he could get away,“Anthony, please don’t shut me out.”

“This isn’t for women’s ears. Please, do as I say.”

Anthony kissed my forehead tenderly, before he quickly ripped his arm away, looking sympathetic as he did so. The door shut, and although I was tempted to burst in there, I knew this was something out of my league. Sighing, I reluctantly walked away, slipping off my heels before slowly making my way upstairs. 

As I prepared for bed, my mind was distant. I couldn’t stop wondering what their meeting was about. Anthony looked stressed (even more than usual), and the fact that the eldest brothers were together meant this business was serious. Once my maids were finished and gone, I sat up in bed, having left some candles lit. At first I thought reading might take my mind off things, but the romantic novel only made me think of my husband more. I was tired from the ball, feet throbbing from dancing, which made me believe I could fall asleep. I wasn’t able to fool myself, unfortunately stuck awake again. Groaning in frustration, I stood, making my way to the door. I hesitated, wondering if I should really go storming downstairs when Anthony told me otherwise. No, I had to check on my love.

Opening the door, I heard someone else do the same. Poking my head out, I looked down the hall, seeing Daphne also awake. She rushed towards me, grabbing my hand without a word and dragging me out of my room.

“Woah, Daphne, woah, slow down!” I exclaimed quietly, stopping her at the top of the stairs.“Why are you rushing downstairs? What’s wrong?”

“My brother is doing something terribly stupid, and I cannot stand by doing nothing.” She said, tugging on my arm as she continued her route.

That made my heart beat even greater, terrified for what my husband could be a part of. I kept up with her, still tightly holding her hand until we burst into the room the men had their meeting in. Collin was the only one in there, looking alarmed when he saw us.

“Where have they gone?” Daphne demanded to know.

Collin sighed.“Daph-”

“Tell me where this duel takes place.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Duel?! Anthony has gone to a duel?! With who?!” I exclaimed. 

“So that I may prevent it from happening.” Daphne continued.

“Hastings has done you a grave dishonour.”

“Can someone please explain what is happening?” I stood beside them, though neither took any notice.“What does the Duke of Hastings have to do with any of this?”

“Surely you wish to see him pay?”

“Not with his life.” Daphne snapped back.

“Anthony is dueling with Hastings?! What if they kill each other?”

“It will not come to that.” Collin finally addressed me.“The Duke will remember his honour once he finds himself on the deadly end of a pistol.”

“And if he does not?” Daphne said.

“They will both do the gentlemanly thing and fire their pistols wide. Now allow them to bring this ugly business to a conclusion themselves.”

Daphne groaned as I began pacing around the room.“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that said? Myself and (Y/N)? That we should leave the men to their business and to not concern ourselves with such weighty affairs? Whose affairs, right now, are my future, my family.”

“This isn’t going to end well, you know it Collin.” I stopped walking around, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

“(Y/N) is right. Anthony is too angry to fire wide and Simon is too stubborn to yield. You did not see them in that garden.”

“No, I did not, and neither did anyone else. You should be happy that no one saw anything.” Collin pointed out.

So something dishonourable happened in the gardens of the party. Something that has cause my husband to want to duel an old friend. Part of me felt slightly angered towards Daphne, she had been playing with fire around the Duke, it’s all Anthony went on about for the last few weeks.

“Only someone did see.” Daphne realised.

Collin and I stared at her wide eyed.

“Cressida Cowper. Collin, you must tell me where they’ve gone.”

“I’m coming with you.” I declared. 

“Neither of you are going, Anthony will have my head-”

“Collin.” I stood in front of him, putting on the angriest face I could.“My husband may be about to lose his life and I knew nothing about it. Believe me, he will be reprimanded for that, but if you do not tell us where these stupid men are right now, it will be me having your head, not Anthony!”

After pressuring Collin to reveal where the men were, we raced to the stables, both Daphne and I still in our nightgowns, with only a cloak to cover us from the wind whipping against us as we rode. Our poor horses were not expecting this early call, using what energy they had to gallop as fast as possible. My throat was dry, heart racing and mind drowning with thoughts about what could be happening right now. Had they even started? Were the shots fired? 

We rode out of the country and into large fields. It seemed that we would never reach them in time. I kept my eye out for any signs of people or horses, praying that my husband wouldn’t be bleeding out on the ground. Why hadn’t he told me? He hadn’t even said goodbye. All I got was a simple kiss on the forehead, nothing other than that. Even if he did survive, he would have to leave this place, but was he going to leave without me?

“There they are!” Daphne shouted to us, speeding her horse ahead.

“Daphne! Wait!” I yelled after her, but she was too far away.

There were multiple bodies up ahead, and it looked like the duel had only just started, they were taking their steps already. I urged my horse to go faster, screaming Anthony’s name, but he couldn’t hear me. The men turned, ready to aim and fire. Tears started falling down my cheeks, quickly drying from the wind hitting my face. I was getting so close, but it still wasn’t enough. Daphne had somehow made it to them, but as the gunshots echoed out, she was caught in the middle of it, her horse rearing up and throwing her off.

As she landed on the ground, my horse also got spooked, rearing up as hers did, though I managed to stay on. However, it went hurtling forwards, and I couldn’t regain any control. I screamed as I tried to grab the rein again, feeling my balance slip away. One minute I was managing to stay upright on the horse, the next I had fallen off to my left, with my foot still hooked onto the stirrup. My head hit the ground harshly, and I was dragged through the dirt and grass as my horse continued to gallop. I couldn’t make out where I was, or what was right or left. Suddenly, the horse started slowing down, the dragging finally stopping. As I figured out where I was, my head still spinning, I felt someone lift my leg out of the stirrup and slowly onto the floor. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N) can you hear me?” Anthony gently held my face in his hands, kneeling beside me.

“My head...” I moaned.

“It’s alright, my dear.” an older man appeared, and I only just realised he was also kneeling beside me.“You’ve hit your head quite hard, you’ll likely have bruises along your back, and your leg will ache. But it’s nothing rest won’t fix. If you have severe headaches, you should call upon me again to give you something for it. For now, I shall forget I ever saw any of this, just as we agreed.”

“Thank you doctor.” Anthony breathed out, helping me sit up as the doctor walked away. 

I clung onto his arm, using my other hand to pull his face closer to mine. I kissed him hard, relieved that he was still alive and unharmed. He seemed to be feeling the same way as me, until I pulled away and slapped him round the face. His mouth was open in shock.

“That’s for going to a duel without telling me.” 

“(Y/N), I...what?”

“I can’t believe you thought you could just go and get shot, or shoot someone and leave me behind! What would happen to me? I couldn’t bear it if you died, or left, either way, I am furious with you!”

“Darling, I had to do it. He dishonoured Daphne, therefore, dishonouring our name.” 

I tried to stand by myself, though felt dizzy, annoyed that I had to have Anthony to help me. He kept his arms around me, and although I loved the feeling, knowing he was safe, I had a hatred for him in that moment.

“But why wouldn’t you tell me?” I looked up at him, ignoring the throbbing in my head.

“We would have to leave society, make a life as...I don’t know what but we wouldn’t be allowed here anymore.”

“So? Do you really think I regard myself so highly that I would diminish my love for you to remain in society?”

“What?”

“Anthony, I would rather leave all of this behind, and be with you wherever you go in the world. That fact that you think I would prefer to live without you hurts me.”

“(Y/N), I didn’t mean-”

I slipped out of his hold, hopefully stable now.“I don’t want to speak of this right now. I’m finished with this topic of conversation.”

Anthony knew there was no point trying to reason with me in that moment. It was also no time to argue when there were more pressing matters at hand. He huffed, only walking away from me once Collin approached, letting me loop my arm through his for support. I watched as he glared at Simon, who was in a deep discussion with Daphne. 

“We must resume before someone should find us.” he said to Simon before taking a pistol from Benedict again.

“There will be no need to resume.” Daphne spoke up. We all looked at her, wondering how she was going to stop the duel.“The Duke and I are to be married.”

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We had all ensured we were home before any of the staff could see us, slipping out of our dirty clothes and stuffing them under the bed. I had struggled, feeling nauseous as I rushed. But as I lay down in bed, my headache suddenly returning and my back aching, I heard the door lock. Anthony threw the key onto his desk in the room, hands on his hips as he paced. 

“Anthony.” I tried to stop him.“Anthony, please don’t do that.”

“I’m thinking (Y/N).” he mumbled.

“Then why don’t you think in your office? You’re making me dizzy. And nervous.”

“Do not speak to me like that. You do realise how this might tarnish our name?”

“They’re getting married, it will be fine Anthony.”

“It does not matter, he still dishonoured her, I saw it myself.”

“And you have not done that yourself in the past?”

That made him stop in his tracks. His head turned to me so quickly I though his neck would snap off.“They were not eligible ladies.”

“And that makes a difference? Anthony, I need to rest, please leave me.” I turned onto my side, pulling the covers higher so they almost covered my face.

He groaned, and I instantly regretted what I had said. His footsteps were loud as he made his way to the door, but I never heard it being unlocked. He sounded like he was now approaching the bed, and I found out I was right when the bed dipped in front of me me. I opened my eyes to see Anthony shuffling around, and I heard two light thumps on the floor from taking off his boots, before he lifted and covers; he shuffled in towards me, gently putting his arm under my pillow, moving as close as he could to me.

“You are right.” his voice was quieter now.“I, along with many men, have...done things in the past. Those women are, were meant for those things, but as soon as I saw you in the room, I knew I had to approach you. I remember that beautiful blue dress you were wearing, and how well you held yourself. But you were still so enticing, I found you to be so interesting, yet you only spoke with me for five minutes. You danced so elegantly, yet I still thought I could keep up with you.”

“If you are trying to make me swoon so I forget all about earlier, it isn’t working. You use the same story every time.” I said.

“Because it’s one of the best ones. I could retale about the time I saw you first promenading, the balls and social events we coincidentally went to, how I called upon your house-”

“Anthony, you may stop.” I tried not to giggle, but my smile was evident.“I am still angry at you for putting yourself in such an idiotic and dangerous situation. However, I deeply admire your love for your family, I know you would do anything for them. Just...if you ever do anything like that again, you are to inform me of your plans. I go wherever you go.”

“I promise. I was stupid to think I could do that to you. I just wanted to make sure you would still have a good life.”

“The only way I would have a good life is by being with you.”

Anthony smiled, tenderly kissing me.“You should rest darling. You’re hurt.”

“As long as you stay here with me.”

“I promise.”

[papergirllife]

Na Jaemin

'Jaemin makes it up to you after a busy day spent with his daughter'

Warnings : somnophilia, female oral.

Word count : 0.8k

Jaemin could see how tired you were from how hyper his daughter is, you had suggested taking her to the zoo, but of course, being Jaemin's daughter after all, she was super energetic, dragging her dearest mother from one zone to another, she was a bit of a mommy’s little girl, Jaemin used the excuse of wanting to take photos to walk behind the two of you, at moderately slower pace course.

So by the end of the day, you were out like a light after dinner and a shower, Jaemin felt guilty for leaving you to fend for yourself, knowing that his daughter’s activeness was taken after him, but you hadn’t complained one bit nor needed him to take the reins.

Jaemin has the perfect plan to make it up to you.

Early in the morning, Jaemin woke his little bundle of joy up to send her to her Uncle Renjun’s house, which wasn’t that well received by his friend at first.

“Come on, just for a day, Y/N was so burnt out yesterday, I just want to make it up to her,” Jaemin pleaded at his friend’s doorstep.

“Ugh, fine, but only because I love your little girl,” Renjun said before taking her into his arms, noting how much of a deep sleeper she is.

“Thank you so much, I'll buy you lunch,” Jaemin said with a punch to the air, celebrating his success in convincing his friend.

“Yeah, yeah, have fun with Y/N,” Renjun said before closing the door.

When Jaemin got back home, he was glad that you weren't awake yet, he had turned off your alarm before leaving, but at times you'll still have a habit of waking up on time, a habit you had ever since Jaemin's daughter came into the world.

Jaemin crawled underneath your side of the blanket, nuzzling his face against the smooth expanse of your thigh before he pokes his head back up to see if you were awake. But you must've been in a very deep sleep, because you haven't stirred one bit.

This isn't the first time Jaemin had woken you up like this, but it definitely has been a long time since the two of you could do so without your daughter suddenly barging in.

Jaemin slowly peeled off your sleep shorts, eyes lighting up when he saw the lack of panties, something you do when the weather starts to get warmer.

Jaemin starts giving your clit kitten licks, two fingers prying you open for better access, his other hand slipped a finger into your core when he realised how slick had started gathering at your folds, he could feel your body reacting to his touch, legs bunching the blanket, but still he hasn’t heard your voice yet, deducing that you were still asleep.

Jaemin decides to switch things up, directing his tongue into you instead of your clit, exchanging it for his finger, drawing quick circles on your bundle of nerves.

When Jaemin heard your breaths quickening, he knows you'll wake soon, lips quirking to the side as his ego inflates, adding two fingers into the mix.

A few pumps and the combination of his tongue as well as his fingers, he soon heard a whimper of his name, followed by your thighs squeezing around his head.

You held onto strands of Jaemin’s hair as you automatically grinded on Jaemin’s face, the feeling of the coil in your abdomen slowly unwinding, toes curling at the pleasure.

“Jaemin... I'm close,” you said before gasping at the sudden pinch of your clit, the action sending you over the edge, Jaemin’s name tumbling from your lips over and over again like a mantra.

Jaemin lapped you up like a kitten at its milk bowl, hands grasping your thighs open to avoid you from closing them on him as he drinks up every bit of your juices, only stopping when you pushed his head away, abiding by your limits, usually you weren't into overstimulation in the morning and Jaemin respected that.

Jaemin crawled up to you when he was done, pushing up your shirt to lay his head on your bare breasts.

“How does my princess feel?” Jaemin asks before kissing the valley of your chest.

“Good...” you trailed before your eyes see the time on the clock.

“Oh my god, Jaemin I have to cook breakfast for our daughter,” you said in a frantic tone before trying to push him off of you.

“Chill, princess, I sent her over to Renjun’s this morning, we have the day to ourselves,” Jaemin said as he mindlessly draw hearts on your back.

“Oh, then why don't we have brunch at that new puppy cafe we saw the other day?” you suggested, knowing he fell in love at first sight with the Samoyed there.

“You read my mind, my lovely wife,” Jaemin said before giving your cheeks each a fat kiss before hopping out of bed to start the day.

[foli-vora]

more than words, pt.6

masterlist / mtw masterlist

A/N: Surprise! Thank you all for your patience—I’m sorry it’s taken so long! It wasn’t meant to, but life kept getting in the way (as it does) and then there was family crap to do over Easter lmao. I hope you enjoy the new chapter! There’s so bloody many of you beautiful angels on the tag list now and I’m so scared about leaving someone out! If I’ve missed you, please let me know and I’m sorry! I’m constantly blown away by everyone’s love for my little story—thank you so much! It makes me cry a minimum of 23 times a day.

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x f!reader, bestfriend!Benny Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: smut (18+), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, swearing, brief mention of alcohol, storm clouds gathering on the horizon

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5

+

It’s hard not to giggle drowsily as rough fingertips trace over your ribs, arms quickly winding around your torso as you try to squirm away, and pull you back into a bare chest. Frankie chuckles lowly in your ear, lips pressing softly to your temple as your chest grows with warmth, stomach flipping from the wave of bliss that flows through you.

He relinquishes his hold for just a second as you turn, smiling lazily up at him as the warm morning sun shines through the gaps in his blinds and paints soft lines across his features. His smile grows as you lightly trace along his jaw, turning his head slightly to kiss your fingers.

“Good morning,” you murmur sleepily, wiggling further into his arms.

“Yeah, it is.” He replies quietly, lightly tracing along your spine, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You press your lips against the hollow of his throat, nose running along the warm skin as his Adams apple bobs when he swallows. His arms tighten around you, and you can’t help the content sigh that leaves you as your eyes are lulled closed again by his comforting embrace and steady breathing in your ear. His fingers resume their dancing across the skin of your back, and you squirm when he goes just a little too close to your sides.

“You’re very ticklish.” He mutters quietly, and you don’t miss the mischievous tone in his voice.

“Don’t even think—”

Squealing sharply as his fingers dig into your sides, you try to wiggle out of his hold and laugh into his chest when he just drags you right back to him. You blink in surprise when you’re suddenly rolled onto your back, smiling widely up at him as he hovers above you.

“Good morning,” he grins, pressing a soft kiss to your nose.

“Yeah, it is.” You cheekily return his words, grinding softly against the solid mass you feel digging into your thigh. He hums lowly as he moves to your lips, dragging his hips along yours and chuckling when you whine into his mouth. “What time does Mena—”

“We’ve got time.” He all but growls after quickly looking at his alarm clock, head quickly moving from yours and disappearing under the sheets with a quiet ruffle.

You laugh quietly, poking at the lump under the sheets that moves down your body with a grin. Fingers dance along your sides again and you shriek in surprise, thrashing lightly under his touch, “Francisco!”

His chuckle is muffled against your skin, arousal settling low in your core when his lips suddenly trail teasingly along your hip. He gently squeezes himself between your thighs, pressing kiss and after soft kiss along the insides of your thighs.

“Fran—oh.”

His tongue is hot when it slides between your folds and your eyes flutter closed as you sink into the pillows. Fingers gently spread you, and then lips are suddenly encasing your clit, a whimper falling from your lips as you buck into his mouth.

He’s too fucking good at this—

His mouth plucks any remaining thoughts straight from your head as you turn to mush, body melting into the mattress as his tongue works relentless strokes against your clit, fingers swiping through the slick quickly gathering at your entrance and gently easing one, then two, inside you, curling deep against your walls and hitting the spot that had your back immediately arching.

“Fuck—”

You can’t help but grind against his hand, Frankie groaning in approval when you slowly start to fuck yourself on his fingers and rub your clit needily against his mouth. He lets you set the pace and take what you need, more than content to just lay and let you move against him.

Your climax builds gradually, the heat burning through your body and settling lowly and tightening the coil in your stomach slowly, but he doesn’t complain, doesn’t pull away like previous impatient partners. He welcomes the pace, enjoys the leisurely drag of your hips against his mouth for as long as you need, and moans quietly into your pussy, grinding his hard cock against the mattress to ease the borderline painful throbbing.

His hair is soft between your fingers when you wind them through it, and tug just how he likes, his groan in response vibrating against you in just the right way to push you up and over the edge.

You can’t help but cry out when the coil snaps and heat suddenly shoots through you, toes curling painfully against each other as your thighs tremble in his hold. He doesn’t let up when you cum, tongue moving to greedily lap your entrance and then back to your clit as he pins your hips to the bed.

It’s too fucking much.

“Frankie—fuck, stop—”

He does immediately, and you breathe in relief, flinging the sheets aside and meeting his hungry gaze the second his head is revealed. His eyes are dark as he blinks up at you from where his head rests against your thigh, a whimper falling weakly from your lips when he gently removes his fingers from you. Your stomach flips when he sticks them in his mouth, and you pull at his hair impatiently, moaning when his wet lips attach to yours, the taste of you flooding your mouth when his tongue pushes past your lips and slides along your own.

His cock feels heavy against your thigh and you eagerly reach for it, quickly lining him up at your entrance and whining when he slowly pushes into you.

He could get used to this.

You were hot around him, pussy still fluttering from your orgasm, and he has to take a second to calm the sudden urge to cum then and there. You shift your hips impatiently against his, nuzzling into his hair as he buries his head into the curve of your shoulder with a shudder.

“Go baby—”

“I’m gon—”

“It’s okay, give it to me.”

He groans into your skin, pulling his hips back and then slamming forward, thrusts sloppy and eager as he chases his release. You praise him quietly, muttering sweet nothings into his ear as he climbs higher and higher until he trembles in your arms, teeth digging into your shoulder to muffle his cry as his cock twitches and empties inside your pussy.

He stays on top of you, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, and you card your fingers through his curls softly as he comes down.

“Fuck.” He pants, kissing his way to your lips before carefully pulling out of you and rolling to the side, dropping beside you with a lazy sigh. You bask in the comfortable quiet that settles over his bedroom, rolling into his side when his hand blindly reaches for you.

A small noise sounds from the baby monitor next to the bed and he huffs a breathless chuckle as he looks at it. “Perfect timing.”

You giggle into his chest, stealing one last greedy kiss before rolling from the bed to start getting dressed.

“She’s not awake yet, but she’s getting there. We have time for a quick shower, if you want to join me?”

You grin at him, dropping the clothes in your hands and crawling over him, kissing him softly. “How could I refuse?”

He hums against your lips, “If you want to make it to the shower, I suggest you move before I throw that idea right out the fucking window and keep you here.”

You laugh as he gently moves out from under you, playfully swatting his ass as he walks away.

His shower is small, but you both make do as you take turns under the warm spray of water and wash. It’s not long until your lips are moving desperately against his, your back arching as it meets the cold tiles.

A noise, that sounds distinctively like an impatient ‘papa’, echoes from the baby monitor on the bathroom counter and Frankie chuckles into your smile.

“That’s my cue. Stay here—take as long as you need. We’ll be in the kitchen.”

And then he’s stepping out after a final kiss, wrapping a towel around his waist and slipping from the bathroom altogether, leaving you to relax and enjoy the hot water alone. Nerves suddenly blossom in your stomach as the sound of giggles echo through the house, and you find yourself rewashing to prolong the inevitable.

What if she doesn’t like you?

Toddlers can be tricky, and if she didn’t like you, then that would kind of kill whatever you had going with Frankie. Who would stay with someone who their kid doesn’t like?

You shut the shower off before you can really work yourself into an anxious mess and slink back to Frankie’s room, smiling when you hear him cooing to Mena in the kitchen. Dressing felt like you were about to have a fucking job interview, and you find yourself pulling at your clothes in his full-length mirror, frowning at your jeans and casual top.

She’s one, for fuck’s sake. She’s not going to notice what you’re wearing—

Shaking your head, you take a deep breath and leave the comfort of his room, following the sounds of childish little giggles. Frankie hears you coming, and smiles softly at you in reassurance as he turns.

“Mena, Ésta es mi amiga,” he says softly, bouncing a beautiful little girl on his hip. She blinks curiously at you, soul crushing eyes that match Frankie’s in depth and shade rolling over your frame before a small frown pinches her brows.

Her little face twists, lips pursing into a small pout and for a brief second, you’re terrified she’s going to cry… but then she smiles, dimple denting her chubby little cheek, and you feel yourself sigh quietly in relief. Thank fuck—

You grin at her, wiggling your fingers in a playful wave and she giggles quietly, turning to bury her face in Frankie’s shoulder as he laughs quietly.

“You’re never shy, princesa,” he murmurs against her forehead, fingers dancing softly along her sides. “Is the pretty lady scary?”

You scowl light-heartedly at him, “Hey.”

Mena giggles again, peeking at you through her fingers before she’s squirming in his grasp and running to her toys when Frankie puts her down. She calls after you with a playful babble, hands clapping impatiently when you take a little longer than she likes.

Frankie joins you on the floor as Mena bustles about, sitting dutifully still when she tries to balance a tiara on his head and accepting an empty play plate with a hum of appreciation as she all but falls in your lap, and watches him pretend-eat expectantly.

She lets you brush her bed fluffed hair with her princess comb and stays still as you tie her little curls into pigtails, giggling when Frankie starts poking her about never sitting this still for him.

It feels like home, you realise with a startle as Frankie starts on breakfast. Like you had always been here, always with them both, fitting perfectly into their little morning routine like the spot had always been there waiting for you.

Mena stays curled up in your lap the entire time Frankie cooks, bringing out book after book, and playing with the necklace around your neck as you read the stories quietly to her. You feel Frankie watching every now and then, and try to steady your rapid heartbeat each time you meet his gaze with a small smile.

Music’s playing softly in the kitchen when you go to see if he needs help with anything, Mena following curiously behind you and dragging an absurdly large soft toy behind her.

“I could get used to this.” You murmur as Frankie flips something on the stove, singing quietly along to the song playfully from the radio.

He grins at you from over his shoulder, “I hope so.”

Your stomach flips as your gaze falls to the floor shyly, smile widening across your face. He slides the food onto the waiting plates and sidles up to you after discarding the frying pan, arms winding around your waist.

He feels like an idiot, but can’t help the words as they tumble clumsily from his lips. “You make me very happy.”

Fuck. Understatement of the century.

Your eyes shine when they flicker up to meet his, your heart hammering heavily against your chest. “You make me very happy, too.”

He melts on the spot instantly, diving in for a kiss without another thought.

“Well, isn’t this cosy.”

“Cutest shit I’ve ever fuckin’ seen.”

You both startle, eyes flashing to the three men sauntering into the kitchen. Frankie’s face morphs first—his eyes narrowing at his friends as his jaw works in frustration, Mena squealing in excitement in the background at the sudden appearance of her favourite people. You, on the other hand, smile in welcome, grinning at Benny’s suggestive brow wiggle. He swipes you up into an immediate hug, fingers snatching food from your plate before you even realise his ulterior motives.

It surprises you when Santiago hugs you as well, making a cheeky comment about you still being able to walk as he helps himself to the fridge, and you flush with a flood of hot embarrassment as Benny snorts out a laugh from beside you.

Frankie stops Will from passing him, a frown burrowing between his brows. “I expect this from those two, but you? I expect better of you.”

Will nods in quiet understanding, lips twitching into a small grin. “That’s fair.”

It’s not the train wreck Frankie expects it will be.

Sure, there was teasing—more than he could keep with, in fact, but you jump in whenever he struggles with his snappy retorts, more than willing to take the brunt of both Pope and Benny’s relentless teasing, and it had his heart hammering in his chest to see everyone so at peace, so comfortable in each other’s presence... you just thrown in the mix like you were always meant to be there.

Mena gets swept away with her uncles, more than content to be showered with constant praise and attention, moving between each man with her toys until she eventually falls asleep in Will’s arms, little face pressed up against his neck as she snores lightly.

It’s nice to be accepted so quickly, so easily, by not only Frankie’s friends, but Benny’s, too. Watching them be together, picking shit on each other and laughing in the small dining room, was heart-warming. They really were family, and as Benny pulls out the chair between him and Frankie, you feel completely at peace between your two favourite men.

-

Mena’s laugh is contagious as she swings higher and higher, Frankie chuckling lowly as he pushes her, watching you jump back and forth in front of the swing and make a playful grab for the little feet that kick at you.

The park is empty, save for the three of you, and you bask in the suns soft, warm rays as it beams down on you. Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you step away with a smile directed at Frankie, humming a quiet greeting after your thumb slides across the screen.

“Let’s get lunch—I want tacos.” Benny’s voice floods your ear without so much as a hi and you snort.

“Hello Benjamin. I can’t—I’m at the park with Frankie and Mena.” You laugh quietly as you watch them play, Frankie growling as he ducks and dives through the playground after the squealing toddler.

You hear the pout in his voice when he speaks again. “Well, bring them, too—”

“We’ve got a picnic.”

“Oh okay, I see how it is—rude bitch.”

“Excuse you, asshole,” you smile, shaking your head when he laughs loudly in your ear, “I’ll call you later?”

“Yeah, you better. Enjoy your shitty picnic, bitch. And you owe me tacos.”

“I don’t owe you shit, Miller.”

He’s gone before you can even breathe a goodbye, and you roll your eyes as you return to the pair going down the slide, laughing when Frankie has to shuffle his hips to fit down. Mena slides right into your arms and giggles when you spin, little hands grabbing your jacket as she snuggles into your chest.

The day flies by with more laughter and toddler snuggles than you can count, and it’s not long until Frankie’s trying to pry her greedy little fingers from your t-shirt after she passes out in your arms after her bedtime story. You follow Frankie to her bedroom, smiling as you watch him carefully manoeuvre her into her cot after kissing her gently on the forehead.

He really did glow around her, and you feel your adoration for him triple as he carefully steps back towards you, quietly pulling her door closed.

Frankie reads the emotion washing across your face and kisses you softly, heart thundering in his chest as your lips move sweetly against his own.

Lost in Frankie’s soft affections as you both stumble blindly to his room, you don’t end up calling Benny back, and you miss his call the next morning, too wrapped up in the hands that greedily grab at your body in the soft morning light.

-

There’s a chill in the bar, bought in from the patrons desperate to escape the relentless rain pounding against the windows. Benny watches them all rush in, laughing as they shake the water from their jackets and move to their tables.

“Just you tonight?”

His bright eyes find the waitress placing the beers on the table, and he shrugs quietly, gaze falling back out to the dark parking lot where his truck sits alone at the far end. “Looks that way.”

She senses his reluctance for conversation and slinks away from the table, moving to take other orders.

He sighs heavily, thumb brushing over his phone screen as he scrolls through the many bubbles of his texts, stacking one on top of the other, all unbroken by a reply. Not even one—not even a call. It’s fucking Wednesday.

Where the fuck were you? It wasn’t like you to just not show. Were you okay?

But then he checks your Instagram, sees a picture of you snuggled under a blanket with a movie playing in the background, a pair of long legs stretched out next to yours with a sappy little text in the corner—‘movie nights with him

The relief he feels is short lived.

So you were okay—you were just ignoring him.

He throws cash on the table next to the untouched beer and pizza as he stands, shrugging his jacket on and shoving his phone into his back pocket. He slams the bar door a little harder than necessary after he walks through it, too angry to even flinch at the cold rain that saturates him as he strides to his truck.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @mouthymandalorianalso @frannyzooey @wyn-dixie @intu-witch-tion @amneris21 @mad-girl-without-a-box @pinguinstudiert @sergeantbannerbarnes @betterthanbucky @kat-r-in @starlightmornings @randomness501 @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie @layniapetrovnaaa @alberta-sunrise @goldielocks2004​  @afootnoteinyourhappiness @linkpk88  @busycryin @hailmaryyramliah @kesskirata @blueeyesatnight @a-perfct-stranger @melaniermblt @dragcn-queen @gracie7209 @mrsparknuts @janebby @littlebopper96 @wardenparker @brandyllyn @littlemissoblivious @a-skov @mandorush @stargazingcarol @charnelhouse @mustbeaweasleyginger @sherala007 @absurdthirst @casssiopeia @pedritobalmando @the-witty-pen-name @pintsizemama @clydesducktape @bison-writes @andruxx @missredherring @strawberryperegrine @alwritey-aphrodite @itssmashedavo @asta-lily @rebellou​

[dreamescapeswriting]

Safe & Sound ~ OT7 [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.5K

GENRE: Angst with a fluffy ending, platonic friendship with the boys, fighting, 

PAIRING: Platonic ot7 x Fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy this my love! Sorry it’s a little late my laptop completely gave out on me so I had to steal my brothers >.< I hope that this fic is okay for you and that Y/n isn’t too easily forgiving! I am working on that for you guys like I said before

The room was so hot it felt as though you were going to melt into a puddle on the seat, a heatwave had made its way through Seoul and Sejin made a decision to have a conference with the boys in the hottest room in the HYBE building. It was one of the hottest days in the year and instead of being out in the sun you were trapped in a meeting room waiting for Jimin to come and meet you, the boys and Sejin to have a nice long discussion about the tour that was going to be coming up.

The way that Sejin paced up and down in front of you made you nervous, he called a meeting with you and the boys and of course, Jimin was running late but Sejin had no idea why leading him to believe that you did. Being close with each of the boys meant you must have known everything, even if you didn't.

"You sure you have no idea?" You shook your head as Sejin asked you for the fifteenth time if you knew where Jimin was, you did, but you weren't going to let onto the fact that you knew. Jimin was on a date with his secret girlfriend and you were covering for him, you and the boys were the only ones who knew who the boys were dating since it was in their contracts that they weren't supposed to but they were boys. They had needs just like everybody else had so you kept their secret. After all, you were their best friend, you'd been with them since they debuted and you were always going to stick by their sides no matter what.

"He probably slept through his alarm Sejin, you know what he's like," You suggested, trying to calm the manager down who simply sighed and nodded his head at you finally taking a seat at the desk while the other six boys thanked you with their eyes. They all knew where he was but you didn't know the exact details, you never wanted to know the details just who they were with and how long they were going to be.

"Sorry, I'm late! The alarm just didn't wake me up," You sighed in relief as a sweaty-looking Jimin sat down in a chair beside Yoongi, Sejin said nothing as he stood up and began making his way over to a whiteboard to begin discussing the arrangements for the new tour.

As their personal assistant, you were going to be going along with them everywhere, as you did every tour, it was fun. You got to explore the world with some of your best friends as well as get some front row seats to the best performances you'd seen, though you had seen them enough times you could probably perform them with the boys. You'd gotten to travel around the world with your best friends, seeing the sights, having fun and just relaxing despite it being your job.

"As usual we'll stay in the cities for two nights and then head out to the plane the next morning, bright and early. That means no one can be late," Sejin said with a stern voice as he stared at Jimin who was hiding behind a cup of iced tea and blushing, you bit down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing and waited for Sejin to finish his speech. Hoping it would be soon so you could get out of the room, it was like sitting in a vivarium, if this was how snakes felt all of the time you never wanted to be one.

"I didn't think he was going to stop talking," Jin moaned as he sat in front of the small mini-fridge that was in Yoongi's studio, the door open as he let the cold air hit his body. You and Namjoon on the other hand were laid on the flooring under the air-con machine being blasted with cold air, 

"I think I lost weight in there," You whined as you looked over at Jimin, his head in his phone clearly trying to apologise to his girlfriend who had ditched, 

"Is she okay with it? I'm sorry I couldn't get you out of it, I already got Jungkook out of a meeting last week," You spoke softly as Jimin glanced up at you, shaking his head. 

"It's not your place to make excused for us, don't be silly," You smiled weakly and laid your head back down on the floor as you watched the ceiling. All of the boys were dating and only you knew about it, no big deal. Namjoon had been together with his partner since the year after they debuted together, it was a surprise to you that no one else knew about them.

"How's your dating life going?" Hoseok asked as he fanned himself with a stack of papers from the coffee table, you scoffed at him whilst shaking your head. 

"I don't have time for dating, I'm too busy looking after you idiots," You mumbled sarcastically as you sat up slowly, thanking Yoongi who came into the room carrying cold drinks for everybody. 

"When was the last time you did something that wasn't for us?" Taehyung questioned, genuinely interested since to him all he seemed to him that you did was work, wor, work and sleep.

"Last week I went to that book shop-"

"Which you went to because Namjoon wanted the knew Leigh Bardugo book," Jungkook interrupted as he smirked at you.

"But I still went and got some things for myself." You grumbled, wanting to move on from this conversation as it made you uncomfortable. 

"Y/n can do what she wants, when she wants she just choices to look after us," Yoongi reminded them as he could see how uncomfortable you were getting about the subject, 

"Anyway, you need to listen to this new song, so come on." He quickly headed over to his computer and began typing as he searched for one of the songs he'd been working on, while you carefully snuck out of the door and headed to your office for the day. 

"I'll walk you to your car," Jimin said as you walked into the elevator together, you glanced up at him and smiled weakly. It had been a long day of organising things for the upcoming tour, making sure the hotels you were going to visit had everything the boys would need as well as running around the building to make sure the boys had what they needed that day. Your head was spinning so fast you thought you were going to need a week-long nap just to make up for it, 

"Can you drive me home instead? I feel like I might fall asleep," You whined, laying your head down on his shoulder as he chuckled hitting the garage floor buttons and nodding his head. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary for one of the boys to drive you home or for you to drive them home you were like a happy family and they always looked out for you. 

"Sure, I'll get Jin-Hyung to pick me up from yours," He chuckled as he waited for the lift to move, laying his head on top of yours as you shut your eyes for a second wanting to rest them. 

"Thank you for covering for me, I didn't mean to stay at Mina's last night, we just had a long night." You laughed softly while shaking your head,

"It's fine, you don't have to explain anything to me Jimin, just make sure you're on time or Sejin might get suspicious. I don't mind you boys dating as long as you can keep it under wraps, you know that." You poked his cheek as you stood up straight, getting out on your floor and giving your car keys to Jimin who began following you in the direction of your company car. 

"What are you doing for your eighth year with the company?" He questioned, trying to make small talk to keep you awake for a little while longer, he knew how bad your sleeping patterns would get if you went to sleep now. 

"I'm thinking of taking a week off, maybe go and have a holiday? You keep pestering me to do," You laughed softly as you got into the passenger side door of the car and watched Jimin as he started the engine, he always looked so confident when he drove compared to when he first passed his test and was always so nervous to even start up an engine. 

"What?" He stared at you thinking he'd done something wrong but you shook your head with a smile, 

"Nothing, you just look confident, it's a good thing." You whispered as you stared out of the window focusing on everything you were passing by as Jimin tried to make some basic conversation with you. 

The next morning there was a weird feeling in your stomach that something was going to happen or that something bad had already happened and you had yet to figure out what it was. The boys hadn't replied to your calls or texts and Sejin was telling you there was an urgent meeting you had to be in right away with no excuses. 

"Morning Ted, did your baby arrive yet?" You laughed softly looking up at the security guard as you signed in. Normally you would exchange small talk about his pregnant wife but today he seemed stand-offish and was ignoring you as he handed you your ID card and took your bag to scan it through. 

"Everything is clear." Frowning at the way he was acting you headed over to the elevators ignoring the glances you were getting from people around you, it could have just been your imagination but they were whispering under their breath and pointing at you.

"I heard that it dropped late last night and she's the only one capable of knowing everything." The doors shut before you could hear anything else that one of the cleaners was saying, the feeling you had that morning tripled in size and your legs felt like jelly, you could have sworn you were going to throw up at any second. Rumours in this place were the worst kind of rumours, they could make you lose your job or have you arrested, no one seemed to think before they spoke around there and any kind of news true or false spread like wildfire. 

"Morning Sejin, everyone is acting rather odd-" You stopped talking when you walked into one of the smaller conference rooms to see the boys sitting around the table with Sejin, all staring at you in silence as Sejin clicked on his laptop. Behind him on the projector screen appeared different articles about the boys all with yesterday's and today's date on them, each of them detailing the dating lives of the members with photographs.

"What the fuck," Your bag dropped from your shoulder and onto the floor as your eyes scanned over the screen, more and more articles popping up the more Sejin clicked on his keyboard.

"What happened? I thought you told me you would be careful!" You yelled staring at the boys who were all staring back at you, Yoongi scoffing as he shook his head at you. 

"There Y/n goes, shifting the blame onto somebody else," Your heart began to pound against your chest as you realised they thought that it had been you to leak the stories to the press. 

"What?" You stuttered out looking from Sejin to the boys, all of them had the same look of disgust on their faces as they looked at you. Well all of them except for Jungkook who seemed to have his head in his hands.

"We trusted you!" Namjoon hissed as he got up from the chair, slamming the palm of his hands against the wood as he locked eyes with you. It felt as though you were being told off by a parent only worse, this time you knew you'd done nothing wrong and yet they were going to blame you without any form of proof. 

"Why would I go to the media? I've been working here for eight years, why would I go and throw away eight years of work and friendship?" You pleased with them, trying to make them see the sense in what they were saying, you would never do anything like this to them. Not to mention you'd signed thousands of contracts stating that you couldn't speak to anybody about what was happening outside of that building.

"No one else knows about it, no one but us and you," Yoongi mumbled, folding his arms over his chest as he stared out of the window. He couldn't bring himself to look at you, he felt betrayed in so many different ways. 

"Is this how one of our songs was leaked four years ago?" Namjoon was hurling accusations at you but you shook your head, there was no way you were going to let them put the blame onto you for this. Not when you had nothing to do with it.

"Why would I do something like that? I'm your friend-"

"No you're not, you've never been our friend. You've been using us since the start," Jungkook finally spoke as he got up from his chair, you glanced over at him to see his eyes were bloodshot from crying, Sejin looked over at the door as someone knocked on it and he excused himself. 

"I haven't been using you, I've been here since you debuted, I've been working with you guys. You're like my brothers, why would I ever hurt you like this?!" You were yelling now as they continued to put the blame onto you, you knew yelling wasn't going to make them see the truth but it was the only way you thought you could heard over them. 

"Tell us we're wrong then, tell us you didn't go to the media with all our date stories," Hoseok said as he stared at you, arms folded over his chest as if he was challenging you to do something. 

"Fine. You're wrong. I would never do something so idiotic," You stared at Jimin who had yet to say a word to you,

"Jimin took me home and I went to bed last night, I could barely lift my head up." You began going over in your mind what you had done the night before, there was no way you would do something like this. 

"The sources came from your email account, your name was used to sign off on each source," Taehyung mumbled, getting up and pointing to the source materials all of the media outlets had been using. 

"It's not that hard to get my email online, it's not that hard to find my name-"

"STOP LYING TO US!" Jimin finally cried out, red in the face from anger as he let tears stream down his cheeks, your heart felt as though it was breaking from the sight alone. 

"Jimin...Please, I would never do something like this to you." Tears began to well up in the corner of your eyes as you wished he would believe you, hoping that was some way he would take your side through all of this. 

"It's a good trick though, pretending to be our friend and then selling stories behind our backs," Yoongi said sarcastically as he sat back down in the chair it looked as though he'd already made up his mind on what had happened, they all had. 

"You're a disappointment," Jungkook hissed, venom dripping from his words as he stormed out of the room, you begged him to stay but he ignored you. 

"Why would we ever trust a snake, like you?" Another stab to the heart as Jin stormed out of the room with the words, you turned to look at Jimin who was normally the one to take both sides during a discussion but this time he seemed to have already made up his mind and he was set in his way. 

"You have to believe me, I would never-"

"Then how do you explain it?! How do you explain everyone knowing it all! You're the only one that knew all of this information Y/n! Just fucking own up to it and don't be so stupid," He yelled in your face making your breathing hitch in your throat, you watched him walk out of the room followed by Yoongi, Taehyung, Hoseok leaving you alone with only Namjoon who was shaking his head at you.

"Joonie-"

"Only my friends get to call me that, we never should have trusted you." He rubbed his temples and you knew what that meant, he was trying to make a decision about something and your heartbroke. It was about you and you knew it. 

"To make things easier, since no one believes me anyway, you can stick your job," You mumbled, snapping the lanyard that carried your ID inside and dropping it onto the desk. Followed by the company car keys, 

"I'll give you the apartment key when I move out," You grumbled, walking out of the room and slamming the door behind you. 

"Don't act like you're better than us! You did this to yourself!" Yoongi yelled as you joined him in the hallway outside of the meeting room, you scoffed at him as you finally let the tears go. 

"You know what, you've already made your decision so it clearly doesn't matter. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?!" You yelled back at him, you didn't need to worry about losing your job since you'd already quit, there was nothing holding you back anymore. 

"What happened to, "Y/n you're our best friend, no matter what?', or is that all just bullshit now?" You yelled out, eyes scanning over their faces as the elevator let you know it was on the floor. Ted got out and you knew he was there for you.

"We never should have hired you," Jimin laughed as he looked at you, everyone on that floor began to come out of their rooms to get a look at what was happening as if it was something happening on their TV show instead of right in front of them, 

"We never should have hired a stupid girl who no one else wanted, someone who ruins everything that she touches!" You stiffened up your back as you heard him, Ted touched your upper arm but you moved away from him walking yourself into the elevator as you shook your head.

"You guys act like you're so sweet and yet you're toxic to the one person who's only ever always been there for you." You mumbled, hitting the bottom floor button before the doors shut, leaving them behind as you sunk down onto the floor crying at the thought of them hating you forever.

"Do you think we were too harsh?" Hoseok whispered as he sat in the dorms later that night with Jungkook and Taehyung, all three of them were regretting what they had said while the others stayed in their rooms not speaking with one another.

"No, I mean...There was no one else it could have been, she didn't have to lie to us," Taehyung grumbled as he poked at his food with his chopsticks, he'd lost his appetite all day being worried about what you were going through back at the apartment you were staying in.

"Well, I mean not really...It could have been any one of the girls we're dating..." Jungkook whispered as he looked over at Hoseok who sighed to himself, none of them had thought it through before accusing you of being the one to leak information.

"Why would they though?" Taehyung frowned, he knew his girlfriend would never do something that could potentially ruin their relationship.

"Why would who, do what?" Namjoon questioned hearing the end of their conversation, 

"Jungkook thinks one of our girlfriends could have been the one to leak the information but why would they? I mean, unless it was out of spite but I don't think they would," Hoseok explained, thinking back to his girlfriend and shaking his head, he knew she would never betray his trust that way but Namjoon's face seemed to turn pale and it looked as though he was beginning to sweat.

"Namjoon?" Jungkook questioned, confused as to why the leader looked as though he'd just seen a ghost roaming around the halls of the dorms. 

"I mean- What if it was one of our girlfriends...I- Me and Jessi had a fight last night and we broke up...She knows everything Y/n knows and more...She never liked Y/n either so she would do it to spite us all..." The room suddenly fell cold even though it was a heatwave and the boys all panicked, darting for their phones to try and contact you while Namjoon tried to piece everything together and think of a way to get it out of his ex that she did or did not do it.

Getting it out of Jessi wasn't easy but after HYBE ordered a warrant to go through her internet histories finding everything came from her IP address, including multiple email accounts created under your name and address the boys instantly tried to get into contact with you but you had blocked their numbers wanting nothing more to do with people who thought that you were lying to them. 

"I bought a coffee, to make up for things," Jungkook said as you walked out of your apartment to find him standing there staring at you. HYBE had allowed you to stay in the apartment until you found another place to live and the boys had been sending over non-stop gifts to try and say sorry to you, this was the first time you'd seen any of them face to face since it happened. 

"You think a coffee, some flowers and a huge 'I'm Beary sorry' teddy bear are going to make up for it?" You scoffed, pulling the strap of your bag over your shoulder, making your way towards the building's main elevator where the rest of the boys were waiting. They knew there was nothing they could do, say or give to you that would even begin to make up for what they said and did to you. Embarrassing you in front of everyone that was in that hallway that day, yelling at you, accusing you of something you'd never done in your life.

"No, but it's a way of us saying sorry and starting to mend what we broke," Jungkook whispered, Jimin glanced up at you as you looked over each of them. It was obvious how sorry they all were but if you forgave them so easily who was to say that they wouldn't do it all over again? You didn't want them to use you like you were some kind of mug.

"Will you think about it?" Namjoon questioned as you got into the elevator without saying anything to them but you had no idea what to say, it was hard. After eight years you thought they trusted you as much as you trusted them but clearly, you were wrong about that fact. 

"I guess...But it hurt, knowing that after all these years you didn't believe me." You looked up at them as they all looked down at the ground apologetically. 

"We're sorry," They each said as the doors shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your vibrating phone. Sejin had been trying to get in contact with you since he found out it was all Jessi, he wanted to get you to come back to your job and apologise for what had happened but you ignored his calls and voicemails. You just needed some time and space to think everything over, things would never go back to the way they were. You'd never be able to be as close with the boys as you once were but it was worth a shot. Right? 

The last few weeks consisted of sneaking into the HYBE building without the members knowing, signing all new contracts to work with a different team and group as well as trying to mend your business relationship with Sejin. Since you felt betrayed by him and the boys you no longer wanted to work under them but that didn't mean you couldn't be friends and still work for the company. After eight years you decided you weren't just going to throw it all away for nothing. 

"You're here?" Jimin questioned as he walked into one of the lounge area's in the building to see you standing with JR from NU'EST, he was talking to you about something he wanted brought to him. 

"I am, I'm working though so if you want something you'll have to walk and talk," Jimin frowned as he followed you out into the hallway, following you around as you headed towards the canteen to get a coffee. 

"You're working for NU'EST now?" He questioned, watching you closely as you nodded your head, turning to look up at him with a weak smile. 

"This was the only way I could think of saving a friendship...I couldn't work for you or Sejin again so I'm with NU'EST...I'll see you around and we can develop our friendships again," He knew that you were coming from a good place and it was nice to know you were willing to work on your friendships with them but he couldn't help but feel hurt by you choosing to sign with a different band after everything you'd done with them.

"Jimin...This was the only way I could come back to work," You whispered as he nodded at you, following you back up to the lounge and he told all of the boys what was happening. 

Days at the company turned into weeks which turned into months of you working for the new group, working alongside them while working on your friendship with the NU'EST members as well as the BTS boys again, wanting nothing more than your friendship to be as strong as it once was and it was back at that point. You felt as though you could trust them and get along with them better, 

"It feels good to have you back," Jungkook said as he handed you a plate of food, all eight of you were at the dorms eating take-out and watching some bad movie that Hoseok had picked out. It was your monthly movie night that you used to have together, it was nice to know that everything was clicking back into place and you were developing growth with them.

"I CALLED IT!" Yoongi yelled as the two side characters began to make out in the forest before being killed by the movie killer, it was a tradition between you all to make bets on movie cliche's that would be used within the movies.

"It was so obvious," You mumbled putting the money you owed him into his hand before stealing one of the spring rolls from his plate and eating it happily. It was safe to say everything was back to the way it should have been in the first place, the way things were happy. You felt as though you were back home safe and sound.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​

[byulsgrease]

now you gotta do a continuation of that wheein smut please, where she returns the favor but does a bit more teasing/torture compared to wheein

I gotta? ok, if you insist :D

what are you thinking about now?

(wheein x fem reader, ~1.7k words)

cw: smut (minors dni)

a/n: hhhh how did this end up 500 words longer than the first part coughijustwanttocallherbabygirl

[previous]

"Just another thing to think about when you're on my mind again."

Who said "again" meant 4am? You considered yourself a morning person, but not this early. She apparently had other ideas in mind when she roused you from sleep with her soft whining and incessantly pressing herself up against your side.

"What?" you murmured sleepily, head rolling to the side to face her. She had that pleading look all over her face, eyes wide with a jutting lower lip, a bit like a begging puppy.

"I'm thinking about you again," her eyes avert your gaze, almost embarrassed to admit, "...thinking about you returning the favor."

"At"—your head raises just above the pillow to peer at the alarm clock behind her on the nightstand— "4am? Didn't we just?"

"I thought I could wait it out, but..." she swung a leg over yours and your eyes widened a little more once her panties grazed your bare leg - soaked. She laid a kiss behind your ear with a soft "please", in that begging tone that always made you melt. You figured the few hours of sleep in you was energy enough. But it was her fault that she couldn’t wait for this, so you planned to make her wait a little longer.

“You might regret waking me up,” tone growing serious now that you were more awake. She shook her head, eyes still wide and full of need. “Yeah… we’ll see about that.”

You hoisted her on top of you and put your hand on the curve of her spine, sliding under her shirt to draw tiny circles on her skin with your fingers. She tried to urgently kiss you, but you refused to match her pace. Instead you kissed her ever-so-slowly, teeth barely grazing her lower lip. Her hands tangled into your hair with a complaining tug, face scrunched up just in front of your lips when you came up for air.

“Can’t you just kiss me?” she huffed frustratingly, the heat of her breath blowing into your face. She’s fronting, but you know she’s in your favorite state - wrapped around your finger.

“What were we just doing, then?” you countered with a cocky smirk which prompted a watery-eyed pout on her face. “I’m kidding, c’mere.” You bunch the front of her shirt in your fist and pull her down to kiss her, for real this time. The pace starts off slow, then ramps up quickly - cursory passes of her tongue on yours and eager lip bites have gotten you equally riled up, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Nothing but your t-shirts and underwear separating your bodies, her nipples poking through her shirt brush over your chest, so you moved a hand up to flick your thumb over one. Her body tensed at the contact but you're encouraged by the sound she made through the kiss - a throaty moan cut short, presumably because she didn’t want to let on as to how desperate she was for so much more.

But they started flowing much more freely once both of your hands came to her chest, gently pinching and circling her nipples, still over the shirt. Despite her growing need for skin-on-skin, she relished the extra friction from the fabric, responding with gentle tugs on your hair and her nails grazing the sides of your neck, a continuous nearly-inaudible whine from deep in her throat.

Throughout all this, she kept trying to hump your legs. Despite wanting nothing more than to witness her unravel into an absolute mess for you, you stopped her. After all, she could have taken care of this herself.

“What, am I just a pair of legs to you?” you quietly joked in the face of her desperation.

“Of course not,” she breathily sighed as she tried to drag herself across your thighs again.

She reached behind her to press a finger to your underwear, and without skipping a beat you grasped her slender wrist and darkly warned, “I don’t think so. This is about you, not me. I can take care of myself just fine, thank you,” your last words teasingly confident, despite not being entirely opposed to her touch.

You moved to gently suck at the crook of her neck while slowly sliding the hem of her tshirt up her body to get it off. Barely trailing your nails up her sides while doing so, you felt her shiver at the contact. Soft nips from your teeth produced even softer hums against your mouth as she pushed her long hair out of the way for you. The suggestion of sunrise now peering through the edges of the window made it very clear: she’d need concealer tomorrow— or today, rather.

Your attention returned to her nipples again, except with your mouth this time. Her hands slipped under your shirt and found yours in the meantime, thumbs tracing the tiniest circles that made your stomach tighten. The thought of stopping her flashes through your mind but you let her continue, your own throaty moans vibrating against her chest while your tongue flicked over her hardened peaks.

Not wanting to let yourself get too carried away from her touch, your fingers encircled her wrists to pull them out from under your shirt, whispering a reminder that this was all about her.

Slipping her underwear down her legs, you flung them to the side in a soggy mass, her desperation absolutely apparent in the way her core glistened in front of you. She sighed with relief as you finally moved your head between her legs, thinking she’d finally get some much-needed stimulation. The relief turned into a high pitched whine of disappointment again when you only kissed and nipped at her inner thighs, your mouth so close and yet so far from where she needed it most. A singular finger traced around her outer folds where wetness had long begun to leak out, making her watch said finger enter your mouth, taking your sweet time indirectly tasting her. The pout on her face looked understandably resigned - what else could she do?

"Oh, did you want me to do something?" you sneered. With your head propped up on one hand, you took the other and slid one finger into her with absolutely no resistance. Honestly with how wet she was, there was no way one finger did much of anything. She white-knuckled the sheets and lifted her hips anyway, trying fruitlessly to thrust herself on your finger to feel something, anything.

You slipped your finger out, moving yourself above her to trace it along her jawline, leaving a slick trail down to the bottom of her chin, which you tilted up. “What’s the rush, babygirl? If you didn’t want me to take so much time, why’d you wake me up so early?” Her body sunk into the bed a bit and heat rose in her face in response to the nickname, growing bashful. Not a nickname you used often, but her response spoke for itself.

"Returning the favor!" she complained, voice shrill. A series of pleas rushed out of her, growing impatient with your antics. She was probably regretting waking you up by now, but you could indulge her a little, right?

Moving back down between her legs, your tongue rimmed her outer lips, eliciting a jerk of her hips from at last getting some kind of meaningful contact. You swept your tongue just around her clit, purposefully avoiding coming into full contact with it. Her fingers snaked in your hair with an adamantly rough pull every time you did what she wanted you to, her expression screwed up on a mix of bliss and frustration.

The rising volume of her moans as your litmus test proved that she was close, but there was no way she’d get over the edge without both your tongue and fingers. You abruptly stopped, pulling away as you took the collar of your shirt to scrape at the small mess collecting on your chin.

She’s literally on the verge of screaming at you - her body couldn’t bear to take much more of this. Your name and a flurry of “please”-s rushed out of her while she yanked at your shirt. You’re secretly in awe at the sight of her raw desperation. She’d never really gotten this wound up before, pleading with you so openly like this. And you pitied her, truly.

The pleasure-filled sounds resumed when you took two fingers and dipped them into her, curling them up at a painstakingly slow pace while sliding your tongue between her folds. When you finally made full-on contact with her clit, she all but cried out, sheer euphoria piercing through the dull ache of her delayed gratification.

It only took your tongue a number of gentle passes over it in tandem with the gentle thrust and curl of your fingers to get her over the edge. Not her most intense finish by any means, but with how wound up she was, she couldn't resist giving in at the first sign attention so long denied. The smooth skin of tensed thighs pressed flush against the sides of your head, partially muting the stream of expletives spilling out of her mouth as your free hand splayed over her abs to steady her rocking hips. You couldn't help but crack a smile against her trembling body as she took in several deep breaths, searching for recovery from the ordeal you just put her through.

Slipping up the bed to lay beside her, both your gazes came to rest on the obvious spot staining the sheets. Her lips turned inwards, mouth pressed together in a line out of mild embarrassment. You wordlessly gave her a side-eyed look, then chuckled and pressed a kiss to her cheek as she backed away a bit, heat rising in her face. You'd have to change the sheets in a couple hours when your alarm clock for work went off.

"So, whatcha thinking about now?" you inquired quietly with a cunning smile.

"How I'm never waking you up this early for anything, ever," she deadpanned.

"Good girl."

[yslkook]

just like magic

pairing: house husband!seokjin x wife!reader summary: some moments of bliss with you and seokjin in your married life together.  word count: 11k warnings: cursing, alcohol, smut (oral f receiving, penetrative sex), suggestive content a/n: some of these moments are inspired by ariana grande songs, enjoy <3 ty to @cutechim​ for reading some of this!! AND THANK YOU TO HANA FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL BANNER IM IN TEARS

ONE. pov.

The faint golden glow of the early morning barely touches Jin as he rolls over to press his lips to your shoulder, where your sleep shirt has slipped down a bit. You’re still seemingly asleep, soft snores leaving your parted lips and your alarm hasn’t gone off yet.

It always goes off at the most opportune times.

He presses himself closer to you, molding his hips to yours and shoving his hand up your faded purple sleep shirt to palm your tits. You sigh happily, pushing back against him in your sleep.

Jin knows you’re close to waking up, if the quickness of your breaths is any indicator. You smile with your eyes still closed as he drops feathery kisses to your cheeks, your chin, your neck.

“I know you’re awake,” Jin rolls his eyes, his voice hoarse from just waking up.

“I’m sleeping,” You mumble, turning towards him and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Jin only laughs airily, dipping his head for a kiss to your lips.

“Wake up then,” Jin breathes. You can feel his half hard cock tucked in his boxers against your thigh already and you hum. It only takes a simple brush for you to buck your hips towards him, centering your bare core to his cock.

You hadn’t bothered with panties last night, after he had fucked you back to sleep. Despite the faint ache in between your legs, you wrap your leg around his hip and pull him on top of you.

“Thought you were sleeping.”

“My annoying husband woke me up,” You say, eyes still slick with sleep. Arousal rolls in your belly when he grinds into you lightly.

The pink haze of sleep begins to slip away as Jin kisses you deeply, with more urgency than before.

“Had to give you something to remember me by today,” Jin whispers, “It’s Monday, after all.”

“Don’t remind me,” You groan, rubbing your eyes, “This week is gonna fucking suck, baby.”

“Shh,” Jin says, pressing a finger to your lips, “We have, like, thirty minutes before you have to start getting ready for work.”

“Better make it worth it, babes,” You laugh and he squeezes your thighs. He raises his head, looking at you like you’re a meal and like you’re his queen.

His lips are heated against your skin, your giggles turning into soft moans of his name quickly. 

“Jin, baby,” You say, voice sounding muffled to your ears, “I have to be at work early-”

“Can’t even appreciate my wifey’s sexy bod,” Jin grumbles and you swat his shoulder, “God, I could eat this pussy out all day-”

“Saying sexy like that isn’t sexy,” You complain, “And you’re not doing anything, you’re just breathing on my clit- gonna give me an embolism-”

One look from Jin, a kiss and a few rolls of your clit with his thumb has you wet against his fingers- the man, your husband of three years, knows your body even better than you know yourself. He knows you better than you know yourself.

His mouth slips over your inner thighs, his hands tight around your hips to hold you in place as you buck your hips impatiently for friction. Jin is so handsome in the morning (well, he’s handsome all the time), but something about the puffiness of his eyes and the pink of his cheeks from sleep always has your pussy fluttering.

Your husband of three years, and your boyfriend for six years before that- he always has your pussy fluttering and your heart soaring. 

Jin swipes his fingers across your glossy folds, glistening just for him, and presses his mouth to your sensitive clit. His hands wander, squeezing your tits fondly, roaming over the hidden bites from the prior night easily. You widen your legs and carelessly throw them over his shoulders.

“Jin,” You whine, “I want you, stop teasing me-”

“‘M not,” Jin says, voice dripping with thick, honeyed desire, “I just, you know how much I love this pussy.”

“Yeah, you love my pussy more than you love me,” You tease, “Please-”

You cut yourself off with a sharp moan as his tongue flicks over your clit teasingly. Hooded eyes meet his dark eyes as his tongue delves deeper into your wet folds, and your thighs quiver almost instantly once he rubs your clit with his thumb.

You’re so sensitive. It’s how he likes you best. (He likes you sensitive, and he likes you in that tight dark green dress you’re planning on wearing to work today.)

Jin loves you in the morning, with the taste of the night before in between your legs. You end the night with him and start your morning with him- it’s all he wants. All he wants is something to remember him by during your inevitably busy days.

“I love you,” Jin mumbles, “My gorgeous girl. Sound so pretty when you cum in my mouth…”

He loves teasing you, loves making you beg for him. And this time is no different. A string of curses fly from your mouth, your back arching when you beg his name in broken noises. 

“Good morning to me,” You giggle lazily, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Good morning to my pretty wifey,” Jin hums and you push him on his back, straddling his hips.

Yeah. It’s your favorite type of morning.

TWO. love language.

“It’s Friday,” Jin mumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist as you pour two mugs of coffee for you both, “The weather outside is awful. You’ll get blown away, just stay home baby.”

You’re already dressed and ready to go into the office, eyeliner sharp and lipstick perfectly placed, but one look outside of the window has you reconsidering. You had already decided that you’d stay home and work from the dining table or the couch but you enjoy seeing Jin grovel a little too much. So you let him.

“When did you become a meteorologist,” You mutter, threading your fingers through his and squeezing.

Your calendar today is quite light. Only a few meetings, a few deliverables for you to provide. You’ve already decided that you’ll stay home and shower Jin with at much attention as you can, but he pouts against your neck.

“That’s the dream.”

“I thought the dream was being my husband.”

“That comes in a close second to being a meteorologist, and I think there’s a one hundred percent chance that you’ll be staying home today and giving me cuddles.”

You roll your eyes at him but can’t resist the smile that tugs at your lips. Turning in his arms and handing him a cup of coffee with a dash of milk and caramel coffee creamer, you lean forward for a kiss.

A crack of thunder sends you jumping in his arms and yelping, nearly dropping the mug to the floor but Jin grabs it before you can.

He knows you better than you know yourself. 

“I’m staying home, baby,” You say, “It’s not worth it. And I have a light day today so maybe…” You trail a finger over the thick vein in his neck and over his chest with a sly grin.

“So maybe we can take a nap together at noon,” Jin finishes your sentence for you with a gleam in his eyes.

“...Or that.”

Working from the dining table whenever you worked from home made you feel close to Jin. He’d flit around you, pecking you with kisses or a squeeze of your shoulder whenever he passed you, or telling you to get up off your ass if you’ve been sitting too long. But mostly, you just enjoy his company and working from home always puts you in a good mood.

Even if you have a designated office in the cozy townhouse you’ve been living with Jin in for two years now, you prefer the dining table for work from home days. You do use the office, if you really need to. But those days are few and far between.

You have about an hour before you have to log in, so you decide to make breakfast for Jin while he waters the plants upstairs. Usually, it’s Jin making you breakfast- he always makes it a point to have breakfast with you before you leave for work.

You’re happy to have a man who doesn’t resent you for being the breadwinner, as your family and friends had cautioned you of years ago. You had scoffed at them then, as if they knew anything about you or Jin. He’s happy to support you and be your biggest cheerleader and you’re his biggest cheerleader.

You had met in college, studying the same discipline and where you were passionate about it, he wasn’t. He had such a passion for life that was refreshing, and he brought out the best in you. Jin made you laugh, he made you love, and you both just worked so well together. Even on your off days, you both just knew each other.

You cut your avocado egg toasts in half and pour a glass of mango pineapple smoothie (Jin’s favorite) for both of you.

“Hey, honey,” You call when he pokes his head around the corner and see his fluffy purple house slippers, “Breakfast is ready.”

Jin kisses you in appreciation, pulling you closer to him by your waist. “Girl of my dreams making me breakfast, huh?”

“Shut up,” You swat his chest, “It’s too gross to take Bomi out, right?”

“Yeah, my baby is still sleeping in her bed,” Jin says, yelping when you pinch his waist.

“Your baby?”

“Oh, fine, our baby,” Jin rolls his eyes, “Was gonna take her to see Jimin and baby Jia today. Fucking storm…”

“Maybe they can come over this weekend, when it passes,” You hum, “We can make those lemon bars she likes.”

“We can do brunch with them? Have some margaritas and mojitos,” Jin suggests, tugging your hand to join him at the breakfast bar.

“I’m sure Sunmi would appreciate that,” You reply.

You both look up to the ceiling when you hear Bomi trotting out of her bed and at the top of the stairs. You stand at the bottom with open arms and she bounds towards you eagerly, nuzzling you with her soft nose and licking you everywhere.

“Hi Bomi, baby,” You coo and scratch her head, “It’s raining outside, we can’t go to the dog park today. You can hang out with Mommy and Daddy inside.”

She only looks at you with big, light brown eyes and pants in excitement. She slides out of your arms and stands in front of Jin, only to jump and cuddle into his lap. 

“You’re getting so big, Bomi,” Jin whispers, “Gonna tackle me over someday.”

“She could take you,” You tease and sit next to him, tickling Bomi’s jaw. You put some dog food into her bowl (that Jin made himself in his ceramics class that he took on a whim and also painted) and pour some water for her in her water bowl.

Bomi immediately jumps off to have her own breakfast. You can vividly remember when you and Jin had both fallen in love with her at the adoption shelter, almost three years ago now. She had seemed so scared, and you and Jin had approached her cautiously. You knew she had an instant connection (like you had, years ago) with Jin when she touched his paw and saw stars in his eyes.

You brought her home less than two weeks later, and she’s been your baby ever since.

Jin nudges your foot playfully. You nudge him back. 

“Got a long day today?” Jin murmurs after a bite of avocado toast. You wipe away stray avocado with your thumb and lick it for yourself.

“Nah, should be done around two or three,” You reply. Jin beams at you and kisses your temple.

“Don’t let me keep you,” You say airily, “I know you like working out in the mornings. I put protein powder in your smoothie.”

He rolls his eyes. As if you could come in the way of his meticulously crafted routine. Today, he was planning on working on the story he was writing, working out, and making lunch and dinner. He would be doing a little more, if the weather wasn’t working against him.

Jin loves the flexibility of his life, honestly. He loves being able to do the things he loves, while you do the things you love. And if that means him not technically having a stable job, and you bringing home most of the money, that’s more than okay with him. Besides, you’ve both come a long way from any insecurities that that might have brought. 

He loves that all of his joy for life also comes with you by his side.

That’s what over ten years of being together will do. 

***

“Baby,” You call from the couch, “Come here. I miss you.”

Your meetings for the day have finished and you have finished the bulk of your work, leaving the majority of your day free to finish up loose ends and send a few emails. This week has been filled with many early mornings and late nights, leaving both you and Jin yearning for the weekend and for more time with each other.

He comes to you with wide, puppy eyes and you beckon him forward. “Sit with me, honey. Please?”

Jin leans towards you, chin on your shoulder and chest to your back as he watches you type away. Your shoulders instantly relax with his touch and the comforting scent of his rain scented shower gel. He’s still warm from his shower and he wraps an arm around your waist.

It’s your favorite place to be.

“Is that woman being annoying,” Jin asks, “The one on your project for that document change you gotta make?”

“Nah, she’s been out this week,” You mutter, “I gotta have a heart to heart with her next week and tell her to stop railroading me every chance she gets.”

“Damn you’re so sexy when you get all mean,” Jin shivers dramatically and you laugh against him.

“‘M not mean,” You reply absently, clicking ‘send’ on an email and messaging your boss to have a good weekend. Bomi has woken up from her nap and joins you both on the couch, curling in your lap and dwarfing over your laptop screen.

“Bomi,” You chuckle and rub her back, “Silly girl.”

She only looks at you with wide eyes, happy that she has your attention. It reminds you a little bit of how Jin looks at you when he catches your eye. Jin leans over and takes Bomi from you and cuddles here in his lap. He turns around so his back is pressed against yours and his legs outstretched the other way. The warmth of him against you is welcome as you finish up your emails and sign off for the weekend as quickly as you can.

“Okay,” You murmur, “‘M done with work. Wanna take Bomi out for a walk with me? Looks like the storm stopped for the most part…”

“Sure, maybe I’ll finally get my kiss in the rain.”

“Yeah, and we’ll both get pneumonia,” You chastise him, patting his cheek, “Has Jungkook been getting in your head lately? Mr. Romance over there.”

Jin gasps in offense, “More like I’m getting in his head. Everything he knows about romance is because of me.”

“Okay, baby. Whatever you say.”

THREE. honeymoon avenue.

“I have two weeks of vacation left,” You muse, running your hands through Jin’s hair, “We should go to Phuket. We’ve been meaning to for years…”

“They say November is the best time,” Jin replies, peering over to the computer. Where you’re currently looking up flights and hotels to Phuket.

“November is next week, Seokjin.”

“Okay, and? Spontaneity is the backbone of long-term relationships,” Jin says matter-of-factly and dodges the inevitable swat to his shoulder.

“I thought trust, love, and respect is the backbone of long-term relationships.”

“That too. But really, it’s the fact that my hot wife wants to take me, her even hotter husband on a romantic getaway-”

“We should go,” You murmur, already thinking about the clear, pristine waters and white, sandy beaches. Not to mention the food…

“Baby, will you text in the groupchat? Ask if anyone wants to go,” You say, bookmarking beaches and places to sightsee. You already have a growing list of hotels and AirBnb’s that you want to investigate further.

“Not everyone is as spontaneous as us, sweets,” Jin says, “Peasants.”

***

In the end, only you and Jin end up deciding to go to Phuket. It was too last minute for your friends, especially for your friends with young children.

It’s just you and Jin in Phuket for a week. You had decided to leave Bomi with the dog sitter, as she hated flying and was terrified of it.  

By the time you both get settled in your Airbnb, you’re both bouncing off the walls with pent up energy. 

Phuket isn’t ready for the storm that was you and Seokjin.

***

“Sweets, you ready for dinner?” Jin calls from the bedroom, leaning against the headboard of the bed.

“Five minutes!” 

Jin rolls his eyes fondly, very well acquainted with how long it takes for you to get ready sometimes. Your eyeliner had to be just perfect, lipstick complimenting your eye makeup, your jewelry a statement but not obnoxious… The list goes on.

He scrolls on his phone impatiently, looking at the photos the dog-sitter sent of Bomi and then he lets his friends know what their plans were. They all excitedly ask for pictures and updates.

He’s already gotten quite tan since being here, and it’s only been four and a half days. Though most of the time during those four and a half days was spent at the beach, hiking, exploring, or sipping drinks at the beach bar.

Bliss. Seeing the way the sun glows on your skin and the way you beam at him without the stress of deadlines and responsibilities is a sight he’ll never tire of. If his photo album on his phone is anything to go by, it’s filled with candids of you and photos of you sprinkled in with the scenery and the food you’ve both been eating. 

You’ll try anything once, and Jin will, too.

Five minutes go by.

“I’m hungry,” Jin whines, finally getting up and leaning against the doorframe. His throat goes a little dry when you look at him with wide eyes, in the middle of applying your false lashes.

“Two minutes, baby, I promise-”

“I should eat you instead,” Jin says, eyes raking over your figure brazenly. You’re wearing a tight red dress with thin straps, and a thin necklace that he had bought you for your most recent birthday sits around your neck. 

“What a line,” You roll your eyes.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Jin says cockily, “Got you forever and always.”

“How romantic.”

***

You can’t deny the butterflies that you still get around Jin, especially when he looks at you like that over dinner. Like you’re the only thing in the entire world when his eyes are molten gold for you and you only. 

You won’t deny that the way he calls you his wife in that low, raspy voice sends a rush of something curling in your belly. You’ll blame it on the third glass of sam song that you’ve had. Jin himself is on his third glass of mekhong. His ears and the apples of his cheeks are flushed red from the alcohol. 

You want to pounce on him. Who does Seokjin think he is? His lips are bitten and a little red from chapstick. And from you kissing him before arriving at the restaurant for your reservation. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, giving you a few of his collarbones and the necklace around his neck.

Your face feels hot. It’s probably the alcohol. Jin knows that look on your face. The one where you’re impatient. The one where you just want him and want him and want him. 

He’ll take care of you. He always will.

***

“My pretty wifey,” Jin murmurs, face buried in your neck as he rocks into you slowly. The hot, slow glide of his cock burns in the best way, leaving you sated and wanting more at the same time.

“My gorgeous girl,” Jin says and you whine, clenching around him. Your legs wrap around his waist and he groans, dotting your skin in kisses. He’s all around you, coating you in a pillowy haze. Your lipstick stains his lips, fading on his neck and his glistening chest.

“Can’t believe you did this for me,” He groans, fingers ghosting over your bare, sensitive pussy. (Yes, you’d gotten a wax before vacation. As it had been a while, and you wanted to see Jin’s reaction.)

“Fuck, Jin,” You sigh. You feel a little dazed, a little airy. “Feel so fucking good. You’re so… big, always feel so fucking good.”

Your clothes are strewn about in various corners of the Airbnb, both of you too hasty and impatient to get your hands on each other after dinner and a short walk on the beach. Honestly, you would’ve fucked him out on the beach if he allowed you to. The way the moonlight hit his eyes just made your brain shut off and think lewd thoughts of only him.

You’ve cum at least three times now, and Jin shows no signs of stopping. Truthfully, neither do you- you can keep up with him and he can keep up with you. It’s part of what’s made you both work so well.

“Good, baby?” Jin mumbles. He doesn’t give you time to answer before gathering you in his arms and sitting you up. Your tits are plastered to his chest, and you can’t help but snake a hand in between you both and playfully twist his nipple. The angle of his cock in you is deeper than before and you struggle to stave off the need to cum.

“Yeah,” You say faintly.

“What’s on the agenda tomorrow?” Jin asks quietly, slowing and stopping his movements. You whine again when he stops moving inside of you.

“Shh, baby,” Jin says, “Just wanna be with you like this. What’re we doing tomorrow?”

“Seriously?” You grunt, trying to get some friction on your clit but he halts your movements with a large hand on your hips. You pinch his nipple hard and he yelps. “You wanna talk about our itinerary tomorrow when you’re balls deep inside me-”

“Yeah, I gotta plan ahead,” Jin snorts.

“Um,” You mumble, trying to gain your wits about you, “The market. A-and the distillery, and then…”

“And then?” Jin purrs in your ear, nipping your earlobe. 

“And then the elephant sanctuary. Maybe Bangla road a-at night,” You reply, pressing your face into his neck.

“Good girl,” Jin breathes and you whimper into his skin, “My smart, wonderful, amazing wifey-”

“Wanna be your wife forever,” The words slip out of your mouth without you meaning to, as they usually do. Something about Jin calling you his wife like that sets you ablaze, makes you possessive for a man already yours.

“Good thing we’re married then, huh?” Jin jokes and you let out a breathless laugh.

“Baby,” You exhale, “Wanna cum. Wanna cum so bad, wanna feel my hubby’s cum-”

Jin groans into your neck, biting your clavicle lightly. “You’re so impatient,” He chides lightly.

“Will you move-”

“I told you to wait-”

“Fine, I’ll just,” You push him on his back roughly and press your palms to his chest and sigh happily when you finally get the friction you’re craving as you begin to bounce on his cock. Jin squeezes your hips, your tits and pulls you closer to him to mouth at your chest. He wraps a hand around your neck lightly as you try to keep your rhythm steady and your breaths stutter.

You ignore the burn in your thighs in favor of clenching around his cock and focusing on how full you feel.

Jin’s eyes are hooded, zeroed in on you exactly how you like them to be. He can sense when you’re beginning to get tired, holding your hips tightly and taking control over to slam his hips into yours. He stays focused on the way your lips part in a delicious ‘o’ and he pulls your face close to his harshly to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. You whimper into his mouth as he slams into you, his hips pistoning and your voice growing louder and louder.

He circles your clit, moves the same hand to your lips and pushes his thumb into your mouth and you eagerly accept his finger. Spit coats his thumb and he hums in approval.

You cum abruptly and unexpectedly, pleasure washing over you in waves at the simple clasp of his big hand around your neck. His cock is still throbbing inside you, pace relentless. Tears gather around your waterline from oversensitivity but you murmur for him to cum, you tell him how much you want his cum in you and he moans your name in your ear before emptying himself in your pussy.

“I love you,” You mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck and gripping his necklace lightly. He wipes any stray moisture from your eyes and kisses your forehead. 

“I love you,” Jin says hoarsely. Jin tries to pull out but you protest, wanting to lay with him for a few moments longer. At some point, you end up dozing off in his arms and Jin cleans you both up before tucking you into bed.

You feel the faint brush of his lips on your forehead and bury yourself into his side before you tumble into sleep.

FOUR. long days.

you.

You woke up this morning with a migraine (truly one of the worst ways to wake up). Despite taking medicine after it became too excruciating to bear and increasing your water intake, your head was still throbbing nearly twelve hours later.

Not to mention, everyone at work was grating on your last nerve. It seemed that everyone wanted a piece of you today and you were getting pulled in a million different directions. You didn’t even have time to do the things you needed to do.

The only people who you were able to speak to without feeling like ripping your hair out were Namjoon and Jungkook. Even they told you that you should probably go home early, since it looked like you were about to pass out. Namjoon offered to call Jin to pick you up, but you refused quickly.

Being in your office was making your migraine worse. So by 3 PM, you pack your stuff up and head out without bidding anybody goodbye. 

Your feet ache, your head is pounding, you’re hungry and you could absolutely scream. You rest your forehead on your steering wheel before pulling out of your parking space with bleary eyes. Your suit feels stifling today, and it feels difficult to breathe.

You want Jin, you’ve wanted Jin since you arrived at work and everything went to shit. But you can’t bear to listen to a single sound over your speakers so you just wait until you get home.

***

“You’re home early,” Jin says, looking up at you from his glasses at the dining table. You say nothing, only dropping your backpack to the floor and climbing into his lap tiredly.

“Oh, honey,” Jin murmurs, kissing your hair and rubbing your shoulder. Your eyes are closed and you hum into his neck. 

“My head hurts a lot,” You say quietly into his skin, “Today sucked.”

“Let’s go get you changed, honey.” 

Bomi follows both of you upstairs, sitting in her bed as Jin changes you out of your work clothes. He starts with your suit jacket, peeling it off easily and hanging it back up in your closet. Then, he pulls your button-up from the waistband of your pants and unbuttons your shirt slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your skin with each button that comes undone. Jin easily unclasps your bra, letting his fingers trail over your skin, before pulling one of his shirts over your head.

You’re already feeling a little better.

Jin pushes your pants down your legs and taps the back of your thighs so he can pull your favorite sweatpants up. “Gotta take your makeup off, baby.”

You make a noise of acknowledgment and allow him to take you to the bathroom, where he gently washes away the remnants of your day (after he washes his hands).

After he moisturizes your face with a tender touch, he pulls you into his chest for a long hug. His hands roam your back from under his shirt and you sigh.

“Can we nap,” You mumble, eyes already closing.

Jin nods and carries you to bed, making sure to draw the curtains closed to envelope you both in as much darkness as possible. He tucks you in before stepping away for a minute, but you’re already being beckoned towards sleep. “Baby, take medicine,” Jin murmurs, holding two pills and a glass of water in his hand. You sit up with a wince and do as he says.

“Good girl,” Jin says, cradling your cheek and crawling into bed with you. Jin turns on his side and drapes himself over you. He smiles when you sigh contentedly and he kisses your hair, coaxing you further into sleep with a few rubs of your belly.

Your soft snores fill the room and Jin only hopes you wake up feeling a little better.

***

jin. 

Jin can’t seem to knock this metaphorical wall down, no matter how much coffee he chugs, how long he sits in the home office, how long he stares at his laptop screen.

Writer’s block. What a pain.

He runs a hand through his already messy hair and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks like shit- bags under his eyes, fatigued, zapped of energy and motivation.

But he has a deadline coming up in the next few months and he has absolutely nothing to show for it. He had had success with his first short story, but he’d called it beginner’s luck. Then came the second story, and the third. 

And now here he is. Riding on the coattails of his initial success. Maybe this is how far his mild talent would take him. Maybe this is all he can put out into the world. 

It was nice while it lasted.

Jin huffs loudly. He knows you’d scold him for thinking such thoughts, for wallowing like this. You’d kiss him, murmur words of comfort and tell him that you believe in him.

He wants you, he wants you to hold him. A sudden wave of sadness and inadequacy washes over him.

Jin will just wait for you to get home. Until then, he’ll lay in bed and wallow in self-pity. Just how he likes.

***

You know something is wrong when Jin doesn’t reply to your texts after a few hours or send you a silly meme, or a corny joke as he usually does. He could be busy, but you just have a feeling.

So when you come home to see Bomi and Jin cuddled in bed, you only softly sigh. Jin rarely takes afternoon naps- it’s clear he’s upset.

“Jin?” You murmur, “Everything okay, baby?” You kneel on the floor of the side of the bed he’s facing and push his hair from his eyes. Jin blearily looks at you with fatigue in the lines of his face.

“No,” He says, voice muffled, “Lay with me? But take your outside clothes off.”

You bite your tongue, wanting to say “when have I ever laid in bed in outside clothes” but you refrain. You quickly wash up and change into comfy clothes and slide into bed to wrap your arms around his waist. You press your nose to his neck and drop a kiss there.

Jin relaxes immediately in your hold, finally able to get his mind to stop going a million miles a minute. Your hands are soothing and gentle around him, you wrap your legs around his to cocoon him in your embrace.

“Wanna talk about it, baby?” You murmur, dropping a kiss to the back of his ear.

“I just,” Jin sighs, “This story. I feel so stuck, and they want the first draft in a few weeks and I have nothing- I mean, what if this is it. This is all I could put out into the universe and… I felt like I was finally doing something great, something I loved. I felt like I was finally getting started-”

“Oh, sweetheart,” You coo, “It’s scary doing something amazing and feeling like you can’t replicate the same success. Or the same quality end result. Maybe you just need a break, honey. For a few days. And I’m sure if you ask for an extension, they’ll understand. You have so many words in this pretty head, baby. You have so many stories to tell.”

Jin turns in your arms, his eyes a little wet. You cup his cheek tenderly and he leans into your touch.

“You work so hard baby,” You murmur, “You’re so hard on yourself. Be patient with yourself.”

“I love you,” He mutters, pulling you in for a hug, “I love you. Even if you did wear outside clothes in bed, I love you.”

FIVE. nasa.

Falling in love with Seokjin came naturally- you had met him in one of your shared college classes in undergrad during your second year of college, and had become acquaintances that way. It had taken you longer to become real friends with him, but it hadn’t taken you long at all to realize how attracted you were to him.

You wanted him and he wanted you, as he drunkenly told you over shitty vodka shots at the bar that your mutual friends were celebrating their twenty-first birthdays at. He was so shy at the time, he still is sometimes, that you could understand how much it took for him to admit it to you. Whether it was out of intoxication or not. Of course, it had taken some time for you to get your shit together with each other. But the rest was history.

College sweethearts. You can still remember what it felt like in the beginning, how he made your heart grow ten sizes in your chest and made you feel like you were in the clouds. You can remember because you still feel it now, over ten years later. Give or take.

You remember your friends and your older cousins telling you that it wouldn’t work- that you were two very different people. You were too uptight, you didn’t take risks, you were not Seokjin’s type at all. Sure, maybe it seemed that way on paper. But the more you knew him and grew to love him, the more you felt like he was the missing piece of your puzzle.

You’ve long let go of the doubts of people around you. And it was even more bothersome that your own friends and family questioned your judgment. Because his friends and his family loved you. They sang your praises whether you were present or not, and his friends and family had slowly become your friends and family, too.

It made you happy beyond happy.

But there were some times when you and Jin were not on the same wavelength, and today was one of those days. You both fought here and there, like any couple did. But it had been a long time since you both fought like this.

You were both spending the day at the park with Bomi and then furniture shopping for a new coffee table. Jin had been inspired to redo the decor in the living room and you were basking in his inspiration. 

But the morning had first started with you spilling your coffee and subsequently breaking your mug when it had slipped right out of your hands. You had then cut yourself on one of the sharper pieces after ensuring that Bomi was in her crate so she wouldn’t get hurt because of your stupidity-

Jin comes bounding down the stairs with panicked, wide eyes when he sees you pouting and holding a cloth to your hand. He looks down at the spilt coffee and the broken pieces of your mug and sighs.

You clean up the broken pieces with Jin and he checks your hands and feet afterwards. He helps you bandage your hand up, even though it’s a superficial cut. “Clumsy,” Jin snorts, “You’d lose your head if you didn’t have me.”

It had been such a small thing, but then a few other small things started adding up. Bomi peed on the rug before you had left for the park.

And to top it all off, Jin’s shoulder has been bothering him more than usual. His shoulder pain has been flaring up over the last few months, and despite your attempts to coax him into physical therapy or at least a doctor’s visit, he stubbornly refuses to. Something about it just being a part of getting older, or something.

Every time you try telling him to see a doctor, it ends in a minuscule fight and Jin shuts the conversation down. You can’t understand what the big deal is. Maybe there’s something more going on, something he’s not sharing with you.

This morning is one of those days that his shoulder is aching more than it usually does. You offer to drive to the park, but he grits his teeth and tells you that he can handle it.

You let it go for now.

At the park, Jin relaxes considerably, running around and playing with Bomi. There are some other dogs around so you and Jin let Bomi play with them, chatting with the other dog parents around you. Bomi is still getting used to being around other dogs, so you’re both happy to see her meshing well.

Bomi begins to tire herself out, curling at your feet and panting. Indicating that she’s tired and thirsty. Maybe a little hungry.

“Hi Bomi baby,” You coo, “Want some water and treats? Come, baby.”

“Wanna head out soon? We gotta check out the furniture store still,” Jin murmurs to you and you nod. He seems impatient, tapping his foot against the grass but you say nothing. 

You rub his back fleetingly once Bomi finishes her treats and you carry her leash in your hand, your other hand in Jin’s. He’s tense, eyes narrowed in concentration and you think you know why. You think his shoulder is bothering him and he’s being stubborn about it. 

You put Bomi in the backseat, stopping Jin from getting in the driver’s seat for a second. “Hey,” You mumble, taking your hands in his, “I’ll drive-”

“No, I’ll drive,” He says it with a note of finality and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I know your shoulder hurts, love,” You try to say as gently as you can, “Let me do it.”

“I’m fine,” Jin insists, stubbornness dripping from his tone, “Get in the car. I’m fine.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. The car ride is quiet, tension filling the spaces between you. You want to say something, you really do. But you don’t want to upset him further when he’s driving.

But then you see him wince and groan softly in pain with his hands on the steering wheel.

“Seokjin, pull over,” You say a little firmly. A little annoyed that he let it get this far. 

“I can’t just pull over,” He hisses, “Besides, I’m fine, I’ll get us home-”

“We were supposed to go to the furniture store,” You roll your eyes, “But you’re right, pull over so I can drive us home. And I’m calling the doc once we get home-”

“No!” Jin exclaims, “I’m not fucking pulling over-”

“Why not? I’m literally telling you that I’ll drive! Baby, please-”

Jin rarely ever loses his patience with you, but today is just one of those days. “You should’ve fucking driven then,” He somehow has the audacity to say.

“You’re joking right? I told you multiple times I would drive,” You refrain from raising your voice, “You won’t call the doctor, you won’t see a physical therapist. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Leave it alone! You’re supposed to fucking leave it alone,” Seokjin says, not holding back the irritation on his tongue. The hoops on his ears dangle and bounce when he looks at you quickly.

He ignores the hurt on your face and watches it transform into anger.

“Alright, I’ll just fucking leave it alone, since you’re doing such a great job of taking care of it yourself,” You mutter.

“Don’t- don’t scold me under your breath,” He says, more like yells, “A-and quit nagging me about it, fuck!”

The irritation in your belly vanishes quickly, hiding behind your hurting heart. You turn away from him, facing the passenger side window so he doesn’t see your eyes beginning to water. 

Jin sighs, already realizing his error. You hate when anyone raises their voice at you, much less when it’s him. Shit. He has to fix this, but damn, you can be pushy when you want to be.

You sniffle.

“I’m sorry,” Jin says instantly, “Baby, I’m sorry I yelled.”

“Just drive, Seokjin,” You sigh, wiping your eyes.

So you both sit in silence.

***

“Baby,” Jin begs, “Please, baby, say something.”

“I don’t know what to say,” You mumble, his words ringing clear in your head. You had put Bomi in her bed, as she had somehow fallen asleep despite you and Jin arguing.

So now you’re both standing in the living room, looking at each other sadly. “Can I hug you?” Jin asks, walking towards you with outstretched arms. He dwarfs over you but you stand limply in his arms, your own arms hanging awkwardly at your side.

“Baby,” Jin pleads with you, cradling your cheek.

You’ve had worse fights with him in the past. But you knew him, you knew he wouldn’t lash out like this normally.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” You say bluntly, “And don’t lie to me and say everything’s fine. This isn’t just about your shoulder, so what is it?”

Of course you’d know that he was hiding something. You’re his other half after all, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

Jin sighs, rubbing his face tiredly. “I just…” He whispers.

“Tell me, baby,” You say reassuringly, hand on his chest, “It’s just me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut to gather his thoughts before opening his mouth and giving himself the chance to hurt your feelings again. “I just...I feel like I have no reason to get sick. To be in pain, I mean, what am I doing? I’m just at home, anyway-”

“Seokjin,” You murmur in a hushed whisper, “You’re not just at home-”

“I just feel- inadequate sometimes lately,” Jin says, his eyes wide and vulnerable, “I feel stuck and like… unsettled. I just want to be a husband you can be proud of. I’m sorry I yelled at you in the car.”

“Honey,” You cup his face with love in your eyes, “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out together, okay? You can tell me anything, when you’re ready. I hate pushing you to open up but sometimes you just need it, baby.

“I’ll always be proud of you no matter what. You are my dream babe, so supportive and loving and I always feel safe with you. If you want to work again, we’ll figure it out. If you want to write something else, we’ll figure it out. I’ll always be proud of you, but I want you to be proud of you, too. I love you.

“And you can make it up to me with dinner,” You joke, pulling a laugh from him.

“I’m really sorry,” Jin says, pulling you in for a proper hug. This time you reciprocate and hold him close. 

“I know, love,” You murmur, “I know.”

SIX. question and answer.

Seokjin had quit his job about two years before you both had gotten married. He’d been dreaming about finally putting his dream of being a true storyteller to the test, and you had supported him. You’d read through his drafts and his manuscripts and encouraged him to pursue it full time. After all, you made enough to sustain you both and then some. And it’s not like he wasn’t making any money at all- he did freelance work with his writing for the most part. 

He was good, he was more than good. He was great. Jin was a natural born storyteller, knowing exactly when to focus on details and when to zoom out and focus on the big picture. The way he wrote his stories genuinely felt like he was spinning words out of gold thread when you read what he wrote.

And he’d blush, the tips of his ears going red, when you said that to him with such conviction because you meant it.

Jin would get his big break soon, you were sure of it. But honestly, Jin was content like this. Freelancing his work, writing and keeping up with his new ideas and stories. It was one of the greatest gifts of his life, he thinks.

You and Jin are both content with your lives. You both find new ways to excite each other and new ways to fall even deeper in love with each other. It’s funny because your wedding hadn’t really even been planned. You both would have been content to exist as boyfriend and girlfriend until the end of time, but the idea of being his wife and of him being your husband was too mesmerizing for you both to let go of.

Neither of you wanted anything big or flashy. In fact, the way Jin had brought it up had been over breakfast (which in itself was so very him)-

“I wanna be yours forever,” Jin says bluntly, syrup at the corner of his mouth.

“Is that a proposal or are you just saying that,” You tease but his eyes are serious.

“Do you want it to be a proposal? I know we’ve talked about marriage and how what we are now is enough for both of us. I know you love me and I know I love you. But… god, I want to be your husband. I want you to be my wife.”

“Okay,” You shrug, “So let’s get married.”

“That’s it?”

“Does it need to be any more complicated?” You ask, “Like you said. I already know I want to be with you forever. Let’s make it official. Besides… I wanna be your pretty wifey. Don’t you want that?”

And that was that. You told your parents and he told his parents that you’d be getting married in court, and they had respectively scolded you both for not telling them before or planning anything. But nevertheless, they still came and they were witnesses at the court wedding. Only a few friends had come (you’d only invited a few)- the guys and some of your girls. 

Jungkook had cried along with your mother.

You and Jin at least had a small get together with your friends and family to celebrate a little bit. Your parents were a little miffed that they didn’t have a chance to have an elaborately planned wedding for their eldest daughter, but they knew you. They knew you wouldn’t have wanted all of that.

“At least they told you and invited us to come,” Your brother says, rolling his eyes at your mother.

But it’s inevitable that for the last few years, the question of whether you both would ever grace your respective parents with grandchildren comes up repeatedly. Your parents are harder on you and more incessant than Jin’s parents are.

Many family gatherings have ended with you losing your temper with your parents, specifically your mother and your aunts. Your patience runs out quickly with them and Jin knows it. It’s part of the reason why you’ve been distancing yourself from your mother and aunts- it’s exhausting and tiresome to keep having the same conversation. Jin has been witness to your frustrated tears one too many times to count. First, they’d bug you about when you and Jin would get married. And now, they bug you about when you’ll have children.

You and Jin are happy right now. Neither of you had explicitly decided that you didn’t want kids. You’re both just taking it easy. And your family can’t seem to understand that.

Of course, you’ve both talked about kids together. And you’ve thought about whether you were meant to have kids extensively. Truthfully, you never really saw it becoming a reality.

But again… not right now. Maybe later. Or maybe not ever. The decision will come when it comes. It’s been years, and your feelings haven’t changed one way or another.

Your mother says you’re too laid back. Which is funny, because when she met Jin for the first time, she told you that you were too uptight for him.

Jin’s family doesn’t push either of you. His mother treats you like her own daughter, and for that you’re grateful. You’ve heard stories from friends about shitty in-laws, and you’re glad that Jin’s family is your own family.

The Kims are having a small party on this gorgeous summer evening- you and Jin are in attendance, along with his brother, his brother’s wife, and their two kids, and a few of Jin’s aunts, uncles and cousins.

Jin seems to sense that you’re both about to get ambushed by his mother and his aunts in the kitchen after drinks and dinner before you do. You stand closer to him, subtly squeezing his hand in yours. He grips your hand and squeezes back.

At least he’s with you, and you don’t have to fend for yourself, you think dryly.

“You ladies got something to say?” Jin says, his jaw starting to tick. He’s getting upset and you rub your thumb over his hand.

“We only want what’s best for you,” His mom says with a sigh, “You’re both getting older, when will you have kids-”

You swallow a lump down as your throat goes dry and the urge to cry overwhelms you.

“Stop,” Jin warns, his voice low, “We’re not doing this. Not here, not now.”

“We haven’t said anything for this long,” His aunt complains. You want to melt into the floor. 

Are you the problem?

“Do you want a trophy for minding your own business?” Jin says, glaring at his aunt, who cowers with the heat in his stare. You can’t find your voice, so you let Jin speak for both of you.

“Don’t speak to your aunt like that,” His mother scolds Jin but he’s not having it.

“I will, if any of you speak to my wife and I like this,” Jin hisses, “We’re leaving.” 

Jin squeezes your hand and you refuse to let go of him. Your vision is blurry from unshed tears and Jin notices. You manage to hold it in while you grab your purse, until you get to the car and let a few tears fall before shoving your face into his chest and sobbing.

“I know, baby,” Jin sighs, rubbing your back soothingly, “I’m sorry. Let’s go home.”

***

“I don’t know what to say,” You mumble into his chest. You had both immediately changed into night clothes to cuddle in bed, with Bomi in your arms.

“I’m tired,” Jin sighs, “Tired of them asking. Tired of everyone asking us.”

“I’m sorry,” You say, looking up at him, “They’re our family.”

“Doesn’t mean they get to be the way they are,” Jin rolls his eyes.

“I know,” You reply, “I’m running out of things to say to them. We’re gonna push everyone away if we keep this up.”

You say the last part jokingly, but you both know it’s a very real possibility. It’s becoming harder and harder for you both to give them the benefit of the doubt, to say that they only ask out of their own good intentions. It’s beginning to hurt you more and more.

“Maybe they need to be pushed away,” Jin mumbles, “If it means getting some peace of mind and not feeling like this whenever we see our families, maybe it’s worth it.”

“Maybe.”

A beat of comfortable silence.

“Do you want kids?” Jin asks bluntly, “It’s been a while since we actually talked about it. Just want to make sure nothing has changed.”

“No, not now,” You murmur, “Maybe someday. It’s such a hard question to answer. I don’t want to say no definitively but I don’t want to say yes definitively either… Do you want kids?”

“Maybe someday,” Jin echoes, “We can revisit in a few months. Or next year. Whenever we feel like it. Because it’s our decision.”

“Your mom is right,” You sigh, “I am getting older, you know. If we do want kids, we should seriously start thinking about it soon.”

“There are other ways to have kids,” Jin says pointedly, “When we’re both ready. Not because we feel like we have to.”

“Okay,” You say softly, “I love you.”

It’s that simple and that’s that. (For now, at least.)

SEVEN. together.

As you and Seokjin had tumbled out of your late twenties, you both found yourself preferring boozy brunch to nights out. At least with boozy brunch, you could recuperate during the day so you weren’t hungover for the entirety of the next day. 

That’s not to say that you didn’t enjoy a night out every so often with your friends. You liked going out more than Jin did, even when you were in college. 

So it was no surprise that at Taehyung’s boozy birthday brunch, you were well on your way to being drunk and Jin was, too. It had been a long time since you had seen your friends- it really only feels like you see each other for birthdays or big events. You miss the days of college, when you could see each other at the drop of a hat. It never felt this busy even in the years right after college. In the early years, even though most of them were younger than you and Jin, it still felt like there was more time.

It makes you feel nostalgic. You hear Jungkook teasing Jin (as he often does) and Jin dramatically responding. His cheeks are flushed red, the flush creeping down to his neck.

God, he looks so good.

You tear your eyes away from him when Taehyung’s girlfriend calls your name. She asks if you want to dance and you immediately say fuck yes, and stand up with her and with Sunmi to head to the dance floor with two drinks in your hands.

 You can feel Jin’s eyes on your backside- you know you looked good. The pink crop top you had chosen for brunch was tight around your chest and you know these dark wash jeans and short heels (coincidentally your favorite) made your legs and your ass look fantastic.

Not that you didn’t look fantastic at all hours of the day. But you like being reminded that your man cannot get enough of you.

You’re careful with your drinks, ensuring that not a single drop is wasted while you dance with your friends. It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to let loose like this, and it makes you happy to be surrounded by friends that you love.

Sunmi’s hands are on your hips as you throw your head back in loose laughter. You’re vaguely aware of someone taking selfies of the three of you. Mostly, you can feel Jin’s lazy gaze on you, and a few other eyes as well.

You’ll give your husband something to watch, alright.

***

Somehow, it’s only 3 PM when it feels like it's 11 PM. And somehow, Taehyung is eager to go to the club at night, after an afternoon of reckless drinking. You and Jin exchange a wordless look, already knowing where your head is at. 

“Yah… just let us know where the pregame is,” Jin says and Taehyung beams at him, “We’ll take a power nap until then.”

You feel bad that you and Jin probably won’t be going out, but you don’t want to dim his excitement. And honestly, knowing your friends, they’d all hype themselves up after an entire afternoon of drinking only to crash, pass out, and order in to chill.

“I don’t really wanna go,” You complain once you’re both in the comfort of your home, changed and ready for a nap.

“Jungkook told me that they’re all crashing anyway,” Jin says.

“Besides, I wanna blow you when you wake up,” You say sleepily.

“Why not now,” Jin whines, “Look at me, I’m already half hard. Help me.”

“I’ll puke on your dick if I suck you off right now.”

“Not like it hasn’t happened before-”

“Seokjin!” 

“Ugh, fine,” Jin says dramatically, “I’ll just suffer then.”

“Okay, then perish.”

EIGHT. self.

Jin likes lists. He’s a big fan of crossing things off of his lists (which he keeps in his planner and his journal depending on what he makes lists for), and there are very few things as satisfying as completing a task from his list.

He’s a huge stationery enthusiast, only allowing both himself and you to use materials that he deemed satisfactory. He’s recently come across the magic that is washi tape, thanks to Namjoon.

Today, he’s taking Bomi out for a walk and to the nearby dog park, then he’s going to outline some new story ideas in his notebook (to later add to his drive on his laptop), and then he’s visiting baby Jia and Jimin with Yoongi and Holly. 

Inspiration seems to be flooding through his pores these days, and he’ll ride that wave for as long as he can.

After seeing Jia and Jimin, he’ll stop by the grocery store and restock some on veggies, spices and meat. Routinely, you and Jin switch on who makes dinner for the week. You do enjoy cooking (it’s your time to decompress) but you’ll gladly admit that your man cooks better than you. 

He claims that his secret ingredient is love. You think it’s because he’s more patient than you. 

Sunday mornings at least twice a month are spent baking with Jin. You both like trying and making new things together. Sometimes it comes out great, and sometimes it doesn’t.

Jin also picks up some of your shared favorite snacks, two new bottles of wine to try, and a bag of clementines.

***

Initially, the quiet of the house without you felt a bit stifling at times. And once Bomi came into the picture, it became a little more lively. And then Jin had taken some plant recommendations and tips from Namjoon. He takes care of them meticulously, and you even have two succulents on your office desk that Jin had surprised you with.

And then you had surprised him with a record player with a few vinyls of his favorite albums and artists. 

You both had made it a home project after purchasing the record player to build a sturdy, wooden audio rack together. Of course, it had taken months to finish (and if you had called Jin your sexy lumberjack husband and taken photos of him posing with the table together, then that was your business).

Jin puts some music on the record player before taking Bomi’s harness off and letting her stretch her legs. He puts the vegetables and the meat in the fridge and fills up a glass of water (as well as Bomi’s water bowl).

Maybe he’ll put a candle on and work from the couch. 

Jin usually prefers working in his house with music faintly playing in the background. But sometimes, he likes working with Yoongi in his studio. Somehow, the feeling and sound of Yoongi working on his own music puts Jin in the right headspace to write and get his words on paper. 

Jin puts his head down and loses track of time as he types away, tapping his foot to the music in time with the beat. Bomi curls up to his side and rests her head on his thigh.

It must be about two hours later, when his phone starts ringing. It’s Hoseok calling and Jin picks up instantly, knowing that he’s been having a tough time recently. Hoseok had taken the week off to get his thoughts sorted, and it’s clear that he wants (or needs) some company. So Jin tells him to come over and he warms up some leftovers and prepares some snacks.

Hoseok and Jin end up lying in bed together, under the duvet with Bomi in Hoseok’s arms. Jin turns the music up, as it’s comforting to hear in the silence. He doesn’t push him to talk, unless he really wants to. Eventually, with a sigh, he does. 

It’s almost disconcerting, seeing the pull of Hoseok’s lips into a sharp frown. He’s usually so happy, and smiley, sunshine personified. But he is only human and he is not immune to hard days and generally feeling this way.

Jin only holds Hoseok close to him as he tells him how he’s been feeling the last few weeks. Months really. The words stumble out, forcing their way out of his throat (and some tears do, too).

Jin only rubs his friend’s arm reassuringly and listens.

***

You find Jin and Hoseok tucked away in your bed and you’re sure to be quiet and light on your feet when you arrive home from work. You let them have their time together, only saying hello to them when you arrive and start preparing dinner with a glass of wine in your hands.

“You don’t-” Hoseok protests, and you hold your hand up before he can even finish his sentence.

“Stay for dinner, Hobi. It’s been a while,” You murmur with a soft smile, “Besides, Jin got new wine and we’d love to try some with you.”

So he stays, and you see him smile genuinely for the first time in a long time.

NINE. to the nines.

“I love being your arm candy,” Jin murmurs into your ear when you both walk into the swanky hotel together, “Because I’m the only 11 in the room.”

“You’re so full of it,” You roll your eyes, swatting his chest playfully. Truthfully, you enjoy these events so much more when Jin is with you. You can hardly stand being in the room with these many people from work when you don’t have to be.

But being with Jin makes things like this bearable. Enjoyable, even. 

It’s the director’s retirement party, and nearly everyone at the company is here for the party. You spot Jungkook and Namjoon with their respective significant others near the open bar and immediately make a beeline for them.

“Hey,” You murmur, giving them each a tight hug, “You all clean up very nicely.”

“Yah! You didn’t even tell me that when we left the house,” Jin pouts and you roll your eyes. Again.

A lie, and you both know it.

“Let’s make a drinking game out of this shindig,” You mutter and everyone looks on with interested eyes, “Every time you see your boss-”

“You don’t need to make a drinking game outta it,” Jungkook says, wrapping an arm around his date’s shoulders, “We’re already tipsy-”

“Of course you are,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, “Wouldn’t expect anything less-”

“Don’t come for me, I know you both took tequila shots before getting here-”

You leave Jin and Jungkook bickering and walk with Namjoon and his date to the open bar. 

“What do you two feel like having,” You muse, “Let’s get this party going, everyone looks like they’re wasted or like they’d rather be anywhere but here.”

“Should we be networking,” Namjoon muses, taking a look around the ballroom.

“I only network from eight to five pm on weekdays and after that I need a six month notice in advance if I’m being forced to network,” You say flatly, “Let’s just enjoy, Joon.”

“If you say so, boss,” Namjoon grins good-naturedly at you. You hand out your respective drinks, beckoning Jin towards you and have a quiet cheers together.

You’re happy to be with your friends, and with Jin, even if it’s a work event that you have an unspoken obligation to attend.

***

It appears that Taemin does not quite see the ring on your finger- or he sees it and he willfully ignores it. Or it’s the alcohol and he’s just being far more flirty than usual. Either way, you take it in stride and dip out of the conversation as soon as you can to make your way back to Jin.

Who had been watching the whole interaction with amused eyes.

“Are you jealous?” You ask with a sugary grin.

“Yeah, definitely,” Jin rolls his eyes, “Jealous that your coworker caught five minutes of your time. Should I go rough him up?”

“I love when you protect my honor,” You wink at him, rubbing his chest absently, “It’s so sexy.”

“I love you,” Jin says abruptly, “I’m proud to be the person on your arm, you know that?”

“Yeah,” You say dreamily, “I love you.”

You and Jin end up finishing the night with Jungkook, Namjoon and their dates at a nearby pizza place. Even if you look out of place in fancy formal wear, none of you pay it any mind.

Neither you nor Jin particularly prefer PDA, but you can’t help but lean your head against his shoulder when you start to yawn. You’re struggling to stay present in the conversation and Jin’s warmth next to you is pushing you closer and closer to sleep.

You end up dozing off without realizing it, and Jin adjusts himself so that your head is comfortably resting on his shoulder. Everyone is sure to keep their voices down since you’ve fallen into a deep sleep apparently, and once everyone’s finished with their food Jin hesitates to wake you up.

“Honey,” Jin murmurs, shaking your shoulder gently, “The Uber’s almost here. We can go home and go to sleep. A pizza parlor is no place for sleeping.”

It takes a few moments of shaking your shoulder and whispering for you to wake up before Jin just lifts you up and carries you outside. You inhale loudly at the sudden movement and your eyes spring open.

“Jin,” You mumble into his neck, “‘M so tired.”

“I know, baby, we’ll be home soon. Gonna put you down now, alright?” 

Your feet hit the ground but you stay in his embrace, eyes still closed and face tucked into his neck. You force your eyes open with a groan and look over his shoulder to see Jungkook and Namjoon in similar embraces with their own dates.

“They’re cute,” You say softly to Jin, “We’re cuter, but they’re still cute.”

“That’s my girl,” Jin grins and pecks your forehead.

“‘M your pretty wifey,” You remind him. As if he needs a reminder.

“‘M your pretty hubby,” Jin says. As if you need the reminder.

He’s your forever, and you’re his forever. Things between you both have always been relatively simple and easy. 

And this fact is no different.

tags: @kentobean​ 

[adorethedistance]

All Day Affair - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (18+)

JATP Masterlist - Valentine’s Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ Smut, swearing, light embarrassment (minors DNI)

Words: 2757

Summary: A rough night before leads to a slow morning after, causing you and Charlie to be late to Valentine’s brunch plans. All is forgiven and all is forgotten when he makes it up to you in the best way he can.

A/n: This weekend has not at all gone the way I’d thought/hoped it would and so I apologize for the slow churning of fics lately but I promise I am working on some much requested fics. On a lighter note, here is my contribution to the Valentine’s Day

My eyes groggily flutter open when I hear my phone rapidly buzzing on the bedside table. Charlie’s arm is draped over my exposed midriff, no doubt a position of his own doing. As I go to move his arm off my bare skin, he holds onto me tighter groaning an incoherent string of words. I attempt to grab the maniacally buzzing device with my eyes still closed. I’m incapacitated via Charlie’s hold on my waist, and thus, all I feel under my flattened hand against the cool surface are the discarded condom wrappers from last night.

“Charlie,” I scold, still not fully awake. He knowingly loosens his grip, allowing me to sit up and it isn’t until I’m upright and Charlie’s arm drops into my lap that I realize I’m completely naked under his t-shirt. My phone has not stopped vibrating like crazy much to my dismay. Haphazardly grabbing it off the nightstand, I wait for my eyes to adjust before I read the time.

11:26.

“SHIT. Charlie! Charlie, we’re late!” I try and shake him awake. He whines miserably,

“Mmmmm, what?”

“It’s 11:26, we’re late!”

The messages are from Owen and Savannah, both of whom we were supposed to be meeting for brunch at 11. While Charlie and I wanted Valentine’s Day plans alone, we also wanted to spend time with our friends whom we love dearly. Since the original plan was for the two of us to have the evening all to ourselves, we agreed on having brunch to start the day off well. Look how that turned out for us. I scramble out of bed, and I nearly hit the floor as my legs give out from under me. Luckily, Charlie was right behind me and was able to catch me in time.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just sore.”

“Yessss.” I fake slap his chest before we resume in the chaos, frantically throwing on decent outfits. I toss Charlie one of his band shirts turned muscle tees after hopping into a pair of jeans. Once dressed, I run to the bathroom and pass a brush through my hair in a frenzy before I begin brushing my teeth at lightning speed. Charlie appears beside me to brush his own teeth, and I’m practically sprinting out of the bathroom as he does.

“Don’t forget to fix your hair!” My legs nearly give out once more as I struggle to slip on my favorite pair of sneakers. Once I’m upright again, and stable, I grab both of our wallets and the keys to the house and car and shove them into my bag. Together we bolt out the door and clamber into Charlie’s orange Subaru.

In a nice contrast to all the rushing around we’ve done this morning, Charlie drives at a regular speed; thankfully, we make it to the restaurant in one piece. As soon as he puts the car in park the two of us run to the entrance to see our friends waiting at an outdoor table on the patio. Charlie and I finally made it, albeit a tad out of breath.

“Charlie, Y/n, nice of you to finally join us.”

“11:44 on the dot. Not your latest arrival, but an honorable mention,” Savannah jeers, waving me over to sit beside her.

“What happened this time?”

“Overslept. My usual alarm didn’t go off, I must’ve forgotten to turn it on last night.”

“Classic.” I’m distracted from Owen’s teasing when Savannah’s humorous smile drops. She’s looking at me with an emotion I can’t distinguish.

“You okay?” She simply nods and then pushes her chair back.

“I need to pee and you do too. Come on, Y/n.” And without allowing me to reply, she has me up out of the chair and briskly walking toward the bathroom. It isn’t until we’re outside the single stall that I noticed she grabbed my bag from the back of my chair. Once she’s locked us both in the room, she looks at me with wide eyes and a suppressed smile.

“What’s going on?”

“What’s this?” She answers my question with a question, before using her left index finger to poke the right side of my neck.

“Ow!” My face drops once I realize. Brushing past her, I move to stand in front of the bathroom mirror, inspecting the assemblage of love bites all over my neck area. Savannah merely giggles at the realization before opening my bag.

“You don’t have a sponge, so we’re gonna have to use our fingers.” I turn around to look at her, not through the mirror and find a bottle of full-coverage concealer in her hands.

“How did that get in there?”

“I put it in there last week after you had to spend the whole day adjusting your shirt around your collar bones to hide more of these.” She gives a vague gesture to the marks on my neck and begins applying the makeup.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“And you are unbelievable. That was literally last week, and you’re already marked up again. Don’t you and Charlie ever just make love? Does it always have to be ‘ravage one another’s body’?”

“I mean, occasionally. I don’t know, sweet and tender isn’t really our thing.”

“Clearly.” Savannah steps back to survey her work, “Okay, you’re covered but be careful because I didn’t pack setting spray.”

“I am forever indebted to you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. It’s Owen that you should pray doesn’t notice.”

“God, you’re right.”

“If I were solely judging by his hair, I’d have guessed you guys went at it this morning and not last night.”

“Shit, he’s probably marked up, too.”

“Well, I didn’t bring him concealer, and you two are not the same shade soooo… sorry.” I shake my head dismissively as I hold the bathroom door open for her behind me.

“Better him than me.”

“How was it though? You told me you’d text me updates.”

“Yeah, and then I didn’t set an alarm. But no, it was… so good. I’m like, sore.”

“Okay, we’re entering TMI territory so let’s find something to talk about before we’re back within earshot.”

“What are your Valentine’s plans for the rest of the day?”

“I might get frozen yogurt and watch a movie, haven’t really decided. I would ask what you and Charlie are doing, but based on this morning, I think I can guess.”

Just as Savannah and I did, the two boys fall silent once we approach the table; when the four of us are settled, I take a quick glance over the menu, as if I’m unsure of what I want.

“Okay, in the spirit of St. Valentine, let’s talk love. Tell us about your first kiss, Y/n.” Savannah eyes me, already knowing the horrendous story. I deadpan,

“No.”

“Wait, I’m actually curious. I don’t think I know this story.” Charlie leans forward in his seat, placing his forearms on the table in front of him.

“See what you’ve done?” Savannah merely shrugs and takes a smug sip from her water glass. “No, I’m not doing this. Why don’t you tell us about your first kiss, Sav?”

“I asked you first.”

“Fine, be that way. Charlie, tell us about your first kiss.”

“Well, I don’t know I-”

“Come on, what’s ‘love-master’ Charlie’s origin story?” Owen teasingly pats Charlie on the back, and the four of us all fall under a shocked silence at the sound of Charlie hissing in pain. My lips part in surprise but quickly press shut in a moment’s realization.

“You okay?” Don’t do it, Owen.

“Yeah, I’m fine just-”

“Oh my god.” Upon patting Charlie’s back, the fabric of his shirt moved out of the way to reveal a conglomerate of scratches across the surface of his sun-kissed skin. Owen laughs out in disbelief before poking one of the scratches again, causing Charlie to smack his hand away.

“Holy shit, did you get mauled by a bear?” Owen then gasps in a realization that I’d pray he wouldn’t have, and he begins to laugh even harder. “That good, huh Y/n?” My face heats up a million degrees and I cover my face with one hand as a desperate defense mechanism.

“It’s not a big deal, Owen.” Thank god, Savannah’s come to the rescue. “They just got a head start on Valentine’s Day is all.”

“Okay, can we please change the subject?” I plead as I’ve already had enough of their laughter. Charlie gives me a look that is both apologetic and embarrassed and I let out an exaggerated sigh as a response.

The rest of our brunch date is still a good time minus the occasional interjectory joke about my and Charlie’s romantic all-day-affair yesterday. Our foursome disassembles, already planning the next group outing post-Valentine’s intimacy.

“That was absolutely humiliating,” I state, buckling my seatbelt in the passenger's side as Charlie begins pulling out of the parking spot.

“You want me to be gentler next time?” Charlie asks sincerely and extends his right hand over the center console to rub a comforting circle on top of my thigh over the fabric of my jeans. The gesture pulls the warmth in my heart and the butterflies in my stomach a little lower.

“...No,” I admit shyly. The confession elicits a small, cocky chuckle from Charlie. He then gives me an affirming squeeze before tracing the seam along my inner thigh in a way that is too sensual to mistake his intentions.

The entire car ride home, the feeling of Charlie’s fingertips ghosting up my leg makes my heart beat a little faster and ignites a subtle heat where I wish he’d trail his hand up to. I’m sure my desire is apparent to Charlie but he doesn’t say anything about it. When we get back to our home, I stick the key in the lock and open the front door but freeze as I feel Charlie pressing into my entire backside. He leans down to playfully bite part of my earlobe as his hands come to rest on my hips.

“You said you didn’t want me to be gentle?” All of my senses are clouded by dense arousal so all I can do is nod. He airily laughs, a warm breath dusting the surface of my skin and I shudder involuntarily. “Go inside.”

After closing the door behind us, Charlie shoves me up against it, his hand behind my head to prevent me from actually getting hurt. He kisses my lips forcefully but doesn’t linger, and instead trails down the column of my throat. The kisses are rough in between small bites of affection, surely leaving more marks that I’ll have to wake up early to cover tomorrow. Or just not go anywhere. After this, it’s looking like the latter.

“You want me to rough you up a little bit? Huh?”

“Yes.” The love bites Charlie’s leaving behind become harsher on my skin, as he trails further down my neck, across my collarbones. “Charlie, can we…?”

“Can we what? Tell me what you want.”

“Please-“

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please, fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command.” And with that Charlie pulls me into the bedroom, stealing kisses in between steps. Charlie moves to sit me on the bed but as he grabs me by the hips, I maneuver to switch places and push him down onto the bed. He looks at me with a mix of surprise and excitement, taking the hand that pushed him between his own. I smile delicately when Charlie presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles. That is the last trace of softness.

The two of us begin stripping out of our brunch clothes as fast as we can. It’s as if we’re running out of time. We’re both almost fully naked but before I can get my panties off Charlie’s lips are back on mine. His movements are swift, kiss after kiss is filled with an unrivaled lust that is glorious.

Crawling onto the bed, Charlie stays close behind, never allowing any loss of contact between us. I recover to a sitting position and Charlie wraps his arm under my stomach and presses a line of kisses across my shoulder blades.

“Can I take you like this?” He asks earnestly, running his hands over the vast expanse of my bare skin. I choke out a desperate plea and my breathing softens once I feel the absence of Charlie’s touch on my body. When I turn around I see him searching the room like a madman.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t find any more condoms. I think we used them all last night.”

“What? We only used three.”

“I don’t know! Maybe I dropped some?”

“Fuck it. Charlie if I’m not getting absolutely rawed in the next ten seconds I will walk out that door.” He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that and is back on the bed. Charlie grabs both sides of my face to bring me in for a long passionate kiss before taking his place behind me. His warm hands fall from my face to my waist, gripping the skin slightly.

Charlie sits back on his heels and moves my body back to hover over his. He runs a sensual path with his fingers down the sides of my body and slips one down through the growing wetness between my legs. Tracing the arousal over my quivering clit. The anticipation of the moment has heightened my sensitivity and as a result, I let out a whine. My whimpering continues when I feel him run the tip of his erection through the wetness. As I open my mouth to nag him for moving so slow, Charlie slams his entire length inside of me at once, causing me to cry out in pleasure. I can tell it feels incredible for him too by the way he’s gripping my hips. If he didn’t leave bruises yesterday, he definitely will today.

It doesn’t take long for him to figure out a tempo that’s comfortable for the both of us and my labored panting fills the room. Charlie lets out a groan followed by a laugh because we could both feel the physical reaction I had to the noise he had let out. Wrapping his right arm across my stomach, Charlie reaches the left up to grab my tits, and roughly bite another hickey on my shoulder. He uses his right arm to pull my body into his own torso, and shifting his hips he makes a few adjustments. Charlie shifts one more time and when he thrusts back into me I cry out so loud surely our neighbors will put in a noise complaint.

“There we go,” he grunts to himself, but our proximity allows me to hear. Repeatedly thrusting into that spot, my eyes flutter closed in pleasure. Charlie resumes leaving harsh, lingering kisses, and love bites down the side of my neck, moaning into them in ecstasy. As I feel my heat begin to pulse, Charlie knows I’m close and tries to grab my attention.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” I will my eyes open and turn to look. The pleasure of his movements is so overwhelming that in between moans and shallow breaths, I find myself leaning my head back to rest on his bare shoulder. “I want you to look at me as you come undone.”

“Okay.” I swallow hard from how dry my mouth is from panting so hard for so long. Each next thrust is measured and the sound of our labored breathing and pleasured moans fill the electrified air.

“Charlie.”

“I’m close. Where do you want-”

“Just stay inside.”

“You sure?” Before I can give a coherent response my orgasm tears through me like a wildfire. I’m doing my best not to scream and what comes out is a mix between a strangled cry and a deep, guttural groan. Adding to my ecstasy, Charlie reaches down to trace tiny circles over my clit and I feel tears of overstimulation prick the length of my lower lash line. While Charlie fucks me through my high, I feel his movements stutter and the familiar twitch before he relaxes his hold on my body. The two of us collapse back onto the bed in a symphony of gasps and bliss-fueled laughter.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” he says behind a smile.

“I love you. That was the first time I’ve forgone condoms…” I state to the ceiling in a moment’s realization, “How do I get this out of me?”

***

A/n: I really am so sorry about the slow churn of writing. I’ve gotten busy with classes and though I knew this was coming I’m still upset that I can’t spend more time writing. On top of that being in a block has been really rough but it’ll pass with time I hope :)

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas​ @crybabyddl​ @kcd15​ @kinda-really-lost​ @calamitykaty​ @morganayennefertyrell​ @n0wornever​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys​ @amazinggracy​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean​ @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99​ @ifilwtmfc​ @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker​ @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress​ @bumbleberry-pie​ @losers-club6​ @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1​@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz​ @talk-on-the-street​ @phantompogues​ @konciousdreamer​ @sunsetcurvej​ @warmnesss0ul​

[leiawritesstories]

Now that you did a rowaelin dealing with teenagers story, do one on lysaedion!!

it would be my pleasure 😁

word count: 3.1k (oopsies)

warnings: language, exhausted parents, references to sex, emotions

enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Babe?" Aedion leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching his wife finish stacking the last plates into the cupboard. After almost twenty-four years together, he knew what Lysandra did and didn't like to do.

And he knew she only organized the kitchen when she was stressed.

"Hey, babe, it's okay," he repeated, meeting her tired emerald gaze.

Lysandra sighed heavily, flicking off the light as she came to wrap her arms around her husband, pressing herself into his warmth. "I don't know how to handle this," she admitted. "It--I guess it just doesn't seem real, Aeds, no matter how long we've had to get used to the idea."

"We'll never get used to the idea of our oldest leaving for college," Aedion said softly, stroking Lys's back in soothing motions. "Shit, it feels like just yesterday we brought him home."

She nodded, sniffling quietly against his shoulder. "Yeah, it does. Gods, babe, it's like I blinked and our tiny little boy turned into a man."

"Man-child," Aedion corrected rapidly, his lips quirking.

Lysandra snorted quietly. "So insistent that our son never grow up."

"Hey," Aedion smirked, "you called me an overgrown child for gods know how long."

"Still do," she smirked right back. "I've got my reasons."

He chuckled. "Come on, babe, it's really fuckin' late and we have to leave at the ass-crack of dawn."

"Remind me again who planned it that way?" she crooned.

He grumbled something under his breath as he led her down the hall, turning off the lights as he went. Lys let him go into their bedroom; she stopped at their son's door and tapped softly.

"Awake?"

Emerson cracked the door open, blinking sleepily. "I was about to be asleep, Mom."

"Sorry," she whispered, her gaze darting into his room, over the suitcases and boxes neatly stacked on one side.

Her son sighed, the exhale turning to a yawn. "I'm ready for tomorrow, Mom, I promise."

"I know," she said. "I...I just wanted to say goodnight, Emerson."

His lips tilted up into a sleepy little grin and, albeit a little awkwardly, he wrapped his mother into an affectionate hug. "G'night, Mom."

"Goodnight, my boy." Lysandra reached up to smooth down his dark hair. "Gods, I'll never be quite used to you being taller than me."

Emerson chuckled. "Don't worry, I know better than to try and look down at you."

"Damn right you do." She pinched his cheek, smirking at his disgruntled grumble, and let him go. "Sleep well, son."

~

Lysandra tasked herself with waking up the children in the morning, knowing Emerson and Sana had both set alarms but might need a little nudge and the promise of caffeine to get them up and going at so early in the morning. So she headed into the kitchen and started up a fresh pot of coffee after getting herself ready, then went to Emerson's room.

"Rise and shine, kiddo!" She stuck her head into his room, noting with pleased surprise that his lamp was on and he was awake, if not yet out of bed.

"So early," he grumbled, smashing his pillow over his head.

"Blame your father," she retorted, "this was his grand idea."

"Fine," he conceded. Then he sniffed, his nose for caffeine overpowering his longing to sleep a few more minutes. "Coffee?"

"Freshly brewed," she laughed. "Better get there before the rest of us do, though." She withdrew and moved down to the next door, taking a quick breath in preparation for dealing with her daughter.

No light showed beneath Sana's door, so Lysandra wasn't surprised to see that her daughter's room was still dark. "Morning, Sana," she said, poking her head into the room, her eyes adjusting to the dimness and finding--

"Shit!" Sana squeaked, her bedcovers rustling as she reached to her side and shook the person next to her. "Uh, hi, Mom!"

"Shit!" yelped a boy's voice, the offending intruder rapidly burying himself under Sana's comforter.

"SHIT!" Lysandra exclaimed, rapidly yanking herself out of the room and rubbing her eyes as if to cleanse the image she had very much not wanted to see at five in the morning. Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she fired off a quick text to her daughter.

>Don't even think about letting him go through your window. I'll keep Dad away.

A few minutes later, a very sheepish Sana cracked open her door. "Uh...good morning, Mom?"

"Good morning," Lysandra replied calmly, the steel in her expression belying her even speech. "Good morning to you too, Owen."

Owen, Sana's boyfriend, waved awkwardly. "Hi, Mrs. Ashryver."

Because she was a woman of her word, Lys quickly checked the hallway and then motioned her daughter and Owen to follow her out to the patio door. No doubt Owen had either come in that way or snuck through Sana's window or she'd simply brought him over when Lys and Aedion were out finishing a last-minute errand. Aedion was sufficiently occupied for now, probably in the shower from the sound of it, so she waved the two of them out. "We'll see you later, Owen."

Sans kissed her boyfriend goodbye and came back into the house, her cheeks flaming. "Um..."

"Honey." Lysandra calmly handed her daughter some coffee. "Don't worry about it."

"That scared the shit out of me," Sana mumbled, her blush barely fading.

Lys smirked. "We'll be discussing this, but since your father didn't see, I don't think he needs to have any more reasons for his blood pressure to go up, hmm?"

Her daughter loosed a huge, relieved sigh. "Oh, thank all the gods."

"I wouldn't thank the gods yet," Lys said dryly, sipping from her own coffee. "Go on and help lug all Emerson's shit out to the car, Dad wants us to leave in twenty minutes."

"As if that's gonna happen," Sana snickered. She snapped the lid onto her travel mug and headed out of the kitchen, pausing and whirling back around to give her mother a quick, fierce hug. "Thank you, Mom."

"Love you, honey," Lys murmured. She winked. "Hell, I was a slightly wild teenager once, too..."

"Stop it!" Sana squeaked, making a hasty retreat.

Lysandra snickered, knowing full well how well hinting at her and Aedion's...past affected the kids. Making sure all the dishes were in the dishwasher and the coffee pot and toaster had been unplugged, she set her coffee mug down on the counter and grabbed the small box of kitchen stuff Emerson wanted for his dorm. Since he was a freshman, he was required to live in the dorms, and he grumbled about it but she knew that he'd at least be able to enjoy some of the experience. And since he knew how to use a stove and oven, she had no doubt that he'd be the most popular guy in the hall.

"Mom!" Emerson called as soon as she walked out to Aedion's truck, carrying the box. "Thank god, we need you!"

"What now?" she sighed, pretending to be exasperated.

"Son of a bitch!" Aedion yelled from the truck bed, muffling a string of even filthier words.

Emerson took the box from Lys and rolled his eyes. "That's what."

"Babe," she sighed, hopping up next to her husband, "what the hell is going on?"

"Dropped a box on my foot," Aedion mumbled, hiding his embarrassed flush from his wife.

She sighed and made him sit down, prodding his foot to make sure he wasn't badly injured. "How'd that happen?"

"I, uh--stacking too many things," he admitted.

"Fascinating," she deadpanned.

He grumbled something about stop being right. "I know, babe, I know. I shouldn't be doing this at my age."

"Took the words right out of my mouth," she snickered. "Come on, babe, there's only a few more things and it'll all fit with plenty of room, you don't need to worry about space."

Aedion hefted a sigh himself and kissed the top of her head. "Gods, why are you always right?"

"It's my job," she grinned.

He chuckled and kissed her softly, one hand coincidentally dropping down to her ass.

"Oh my fu--god!" Emerson groaned, almost dropping the box he carried as he screwed his eyes shut, not having needed to see his parents being horny teenagers in the back of the pickup.

"Truck's seen worse, my boy," Aedion snickered gleefully, relishing in the way his son grew visibly uncomfortable. "How much left?"

"Ju--uhh--just this box and your suitcases." Emerson ran back into the house as fast as he could, blinking rapidly as if to scrub away the image to which he'd just been treated.

Both Lysandra and Aedion burst into laughter at his discomfort, finding a small way to cope with the crazy emotions of bringing their firstborn to college.

~

Seven hours of driving and only a few friendly family disagreements later, Aedion pulled into the parking lot of their hotel, turned off the ignition, and released a deep sigh of relief along with the rest of the family. Emerson had enrolled in Adarlan State University, which wasn't as far from home as he could have gone, but was far enough away for him to feel independent. Instead of flying, they'd opted to make the drive to move him in, taking a few days' vacation of sorts.

Aedion hopped out and went into the hotel to check in, returning shortly later with the room keycards and the printouts. "All right, we're good to go."

"Thank god," Sana grumbled, wasting absolutely no time getting out of the car and stretching herself out. "Is it just me, or does Rifthold air smell different?"

"It definitely does," Emerson agreed, jumping out from his side. "Less mountain-y."

"That's not a word," Sana scoffed, grinning wickedly.

Her brother rolled his eyes. "Thought we were out of school, Little Miss Grammar."

"Call me that one more time--"

"Nope!" Lysandra stopped her children before they could start. "Please, we just got here!"

"Sorry, Mom," both of them mumbled, slightly abashed.

She huffed. "I know you want to be free, son, but please at least try to pretend your father and I taught you something resembling manners."

"Okay," he agreed, going to grab the suitcases.

Sana grabbed her backpack out of the truck and pushed the door shut, taking her suitcase from her brother. "Thanks, Mer."

"No problem, young one."

She poked him in the back of the neck. "I'm sixteen, jackass."

"And I'm an adult," he smirked.

"Okay, Emmy," she retorted, snickering at his frustrated snarl.

"Kids," Aedion called lazily, watching the two bicker like they always had, "how about we haul our shit up to the room and get dinner?"

That, apparently, was the magic word.

Half an hour later, they'd dropped off luggage in their third-floor room, each taken a turn in the bathroom, and were back in the truck with Lysandra scrolling through the list of nearby restaurants on her phone. "Do we want burgers or Thai?"

They wanted burgers, apparently.

Though that may just have been the vocal eagerness of the two man-children in the car.

~

The next day, Lysandra awoke with a small heaviness in the pit of her stomach, a feeling that only built as they drove into Adarlan State University's campus, greeted by a whole host of students dressed in red and white and black, the school's colors, waving "WELCOME!!!" signs and cheering for the new freshmen. On the flip side of the overabundance of school spirit, though, there were lots of signs directing the students and families where to go, and they found Emerson's dorm building easily.

Getting his stuff into his dorm turned out to be a lot less easy.

"Goddamn move-in crowds," Aedion grumbled, his forehead damp with sweat as he set two more boxes down on the dorm floor.

With so many people moving in at once, the elevators were constantly busy and constantly had a waiting line, so the Ashryvers had opted to take the stairs and cycle from the car up to Emerson's dorm and back.

Too bad Emerson's dorm was on the fourth floor.

Aedion didn't know the last time he'd walked so many stairs, let alone walked stairs while hauling boxes and luggage.

"That's it!" Emerson grunted, plopping the last box onto the ground and huffing. "Hell, I think I just got in my lifting and cardio."

Lys and Sana appeared in the doorway a moment later, loosing sighs of relief. "Right, my boy," Lys said, wiping strands of hair away from her face, "what do you need us to do?"

Emerson braced his hands on his hips, scanning the pile of boxes and luggage and other things on the floor and his side of the room. "Dad, can you help me loft the bed?"

"Of course." Aedion checked the metal bedframe. "Simple. You grab that side, I'll get this side, we both lift."

"Good. Mom," Emerson threw her a grin, "I know how much you want to, so yeah, you can organize my clothes."

"I know they won't stay that way," Lys chuckled.

"Sana?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you do all my desk shit?"

"That's a very broad term," Sana drawled.

Emerson rolled his eyes. "Look, you're better at putting that stuff in normal places, and if I do it, I won't be able to find shit."

"Language," Sana teased, grinning. "Yeah, I'll handle that. You try not to pop your shoulder out. And yes, Dad, I was talking to you."

"Smartass," Aedion grumbled, his lips quirking up. "Okay, on three!" He counted off and pushed and he and Emerson successfully lifted the bed into lofted position. He slapped his son a high five, quietly jarred by just how tall the boy was--almost at eye level with him.

Fuck, when did that happen?

About an hour later, they were all sorting through Emerson's stuff and slowly beginning to make his half of the room look more comfortable than the blank walls initially indicated when the door creaked open and another boy walked in, rolling a couple of suitcases behind him.

"Emerson!" the guy exclaimed, shoving his suitcases off to the side. "Bro, I didn't know you were here!"

"Selvari?!" Emerson half-shouted, abandoning the suitcase he was unpacking to grab the dark-haired boy in the bro-est bro hug Aedion had ever seen. "Shit, you're my roommate?"

"Unless you can't read, yeah," Nyx Selvari grinned. "You're stuck with me, Ashy."

"Shut up, jackass," Emerson laughed, "I might not be much, but I'd know Room 420 anywhere."

"Cheers." Nyx knocked his fist into Emerson's. "Gonna make it a--nope, nope, not saying that shit, nope!" It was like he hadn't realized Aedion and Lysandra were right there.

"Hi, Nyx," Lys laughed, grinning at her son and his friend. Nyx had played football with Emerson for years, all the way through high school, and the boys had practically grown up together. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Nice to see you again, Mrs. Ashryver," Nyx beamed. "I didn't ever check my housing except to see that I'd actually signed up for a meal plan, so I had no idea who my roommate was gonna be."

"That's funny," Lys snickered. "Mer didn't even check his student email until a week ago."

"Mom!" Emerson groaned. "Stop it!"

"Never," Lysandra smirked.

"So much for helping," another deep voice drawled, Nyx's father entering the room to plop two armfuls of shopping bags down onto the floor. "You could at least--shit, Ashryver?!"

"The one and only," Aedion smirked. "Getting a little tired, old man?"

"Fuck you," Rhysand Selvari snorted, tossing his arm around Aedion's shoulder. "Darling, look what the cat dragged in!"

"What a lovely surprise!" Feyre beamed, depositing her load of shopping bags and a large duffel bag next to the pile of stuff on the floor. "Now we know our son will have at least a little bit of sense in his life."

"Moooom!" Nyx groaned. "Really?"

"Cheer up, mijo," Feyre smirked, ruffling her son's hair. "We'll be out of your hair soon enough and you and Emerson can do whatever stupid things the new college freshmen do." She hugged both Aedion and Lys. "So good to see you again."

"You too," Lys grinned. "Have fun getting the wild one settled."

~

Evening had fully fallen when Emerson walked downstairs with Lys, Aedion, and Sana, the four of them all walking over to the pickup and pausing, unsure quite how to proceed. Up in the dorm, Lys had already shed a few tears, and though Aedion would deny it to hell and back, he'd shed a few tears too.

"Fuck, stop growing up so fast," he muttered, trying to mask the thickness in his voice with gruffness.

Emerson stepped into his father's embrace, squashing down a few tears of his own. "I'm not that far away, Dad."

"I know." Aedion rested his hands on his son's shoulders. "I'm so goddamn proud of you, son."

His son wiped the back of his hand across his face. "Love you too, Dad."

Lysandra pressed her son into her embrace, identical emerald-green eyes soft and shining with mingled pride and sadness. "I love you, my son." She sniffled. "Please don't do anything stupid."

He snorted a soft laugh. "I'll try, Mom. Love you." She released him, and he turned to his sister. "Have fun being the only child." Try as he might, he couldn't quite muster the swagger he'd intended.

Sana gifted him with a fierce hug, whispering something into his ear that made him snort with laughter. "Fucking gods, Sana!"

"I'm not wrong!" she beamed. "Don't let the RAs catch you hiding booze, Mer."

He snickered. "I'll try."

As Aedion reversed the truck and slowly pulled away from the parking lot, Emerson stood in the lot, a half-sad, half-excited grin on his face, and waved to his family until they rounded a corner and he fell out of sight. Lysandra exhaled shakily, dabbing a few stray tears from her face.

"It's okay, babe," Aedion murmured, sliding one hand across to link with his wife's. "He's gonna be just fine."

"I know," she whispered. "Gods, it's not easy to leave your kid at college, though."

He squeezed her hand, his thumb tracing circles on her thigh. "No, it's really not."

Back at the hotel that night, Lys curled herself as close to Aedion as possible, taking comfort in the warm, solid strength of him. He held her just as close, tangling his fingers into her soft, dark hair, feeling the heat of her mother's tears drip into his worn old sleep shirt. He pressed tender kisses to her forehead as she let her emotions pass, allowing her to reach up and brush the tears off his own cheeks.

"He needs this," she murmured, convincing herself as much as him. "He's going to do just fine, Aeds."

"He will." Aedion kissed her gently. "Because he's your son, Lys."

She sniffled. "You're a big old teddy bear, babe."

He wasn't even going to try to deny it.

~~~

TAGS: this is my general list, please lmk if you want to be tagged or not :)

@charlizeed

@cretaceous-therapod

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@nerdperson524

@fireheartwhitethorn4ever

@morganofthewildfire

@rowanaelinn

@wesupremeginger

@stardelia

@shanias-world

@mybloodrunsblue

@swankii-art-teacher

@wordsafterhours

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@violet-mermaid7

@holdthefrickup

@goddess-aelin

@rowaelinismyotp

@dealfea

@irondork

@elentiyawhitethorn

@live-the-fangirl-life

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@chronicchthonic14

@lovely-dove-zee

@sweet-but-stormy

@hanging-from-a-cliff

@jorjy-jo

@rowaelinrambling

@thegreyj

@silentquartz

@backtobl4ck

@throneofus7

@elizarikaallen

@llyncooljones

@booknerdproblems

[pigeonp0st]

Hi!! Can you possibly write a head cannon where y/n is kurts twin and is dating Quinn? Sorry if this isn’t specific any storyline is ok.

Quinn Fabray x Reader #3

Words: 2,024

Warnings: Mention of Car Crash, Hospital

Notes:

I was reading a story that involved a car crash and just...sort of took inspiration from that for more direction. I hope this is what you were looking for, thank you for requesting (and sorry for spelling mistakes)

———

You got into a car crash.

It wasn’t really your fault, it’s not as if you could have known that some dude driving a truck wanted to push you off a cliff…well, you’re sure he didn’t exactly want to; but that’s not the point, you think.

The point is that you got into a car crash. A car crash (or truck crashing, really) that you should have died from, but you didn’t. A car crash that should have presented lifetime injuries, but it didn’t.

And you’re lucky. That’s the magic word that keeps going around. You’re lucky.

Yeah, fuck that.

You don’t feel very lucky, laying down in your hospital bed and feeling so much pain everywhere, laying down in your hospital bed and not even being able to go to the bathroom by yourself... this doesn’t feel lucky. This feels miserable and shitty and—

Quinn. Quinn is here.

Quinn is sitting in the corner of the hospital room, reading a book with red rimmed eyes and shaky hands.

Quinn she— she wasn’t here yesterday. You wonder for a moment how she could have found out, and then you realize…

Kurt.

Kurt went to school today. You figure he must have relayed the news to the Glee club. If you had been awake yesterday, or even the day before—the night you got into the crash—you would have told him not to tell her.

Quinn doesn’t deserve to find out about this the way she probably found out about this. Quinn doesn’t deserve the worry she’s probably feeling...you know it would have been better for you to text her yourself so she knew immediately that you were fine. So you would be able to downplay the injuries.

Kurt likes being dramatic, and Quinn likes to panic.

“Quinn, you can’t be here,” you rasp out, your throat dry from lack of use. Her green eyes immediately snap up towards you.

“Y/N,” Quinn breathes out, voice full of relief as she sets her book down and moves towards the side of your bed to cup your cheek. “They said you woke up earlier but I had to see it to believe it.”

You give her a weak smile, not able to resist nuzzling your face into her hands. Her eyes watering with more tears almost makes you regret it. “Baby,” you whisper, “Kurt...my dad...what if they see? Where are they?”

Quinn’s face morphs into something guilty and apprehensive. “They both... sort of know about our relationship now…” she rushes to continue when she sees your wide eyes, “they were shocked, but they seem to be doing fine with the news.”

You blink at her, once, twice, and then drop your eyes closed with a wince. “Kurt’s gonna bother me so much about this,” you mumble. “How did they find out?”

You feel Quinn tense before you manage to open your eyes to see it.

“Me yelling at the nice lady up front to let me see my girlfriend probably told them as much,” Quinn says slowly, as if she expects an angry reaction. You don’t feel much anger. You haven’t really cared about them knowing for a while now…

In the beginning it just made sense to keep it a secret from them. Now, not so much.

Plus, nearly dying put some things into perspective for you.

“Does Finn know?”

Now it’s Quinn’s turn to wince. “I’m not sure,” she admits quietly, then adds, “i’m sorry if i’ve made things awkward for you.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, a laugh that turns into a coughing fit, and then turns into a whole bunch of growling while you grit your teeth in pain. “Fuck, fuck, that really hurt.”

Quinn’s hand is trembling again. “Do you want me to get the doctors?” She asks, with no small amount of panic. She’s terrified, and has been terrified since the moment Kurt told her you were in an accident.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure her, ignoring the pull of stitches that feel like they’re everywhere, and the hurt in your ribs. “I’m sure Finn will get over it eventually, when he finds out.”

“It’s not as if you two were siblings when I dated him,” Quinn jokes, though her eyebrows are furrowed with her worry.

You give her a smile that you hope is reassuring and try to relax into the hospital bed. Your eyes are heavy with tiredness, and you feel extremely drugged (yet at the same time not drugged enough), but you want to stay awake for Quinn.

Quinn has other plans.

She kisses your forehead, then promises against the skin there, “i’ll be here when you wake up.”

And right before you drift off into the dream world, you hear her say; “please don’t do this to me again,” in a voice that’s so weak and scared that you want to open your eyes again and reassure her.

You fall asleep instead.

——-

Quinn is there when you wake up again, but so is Kurt.

They’re talking. About you, you realize bitterly. About the crash, and the physical therapy you’re going to need to go through for your shoulder.

They’re talking quietly, as if to not disturb you, and it’s weird hearing the two most important people in your life talk. Especially since you know that just a day ago Kurt was terrified of Quinn.

Maybe not terrified...he was intimidated. Everyone is of Quinn.

(Quinn admitted to you once that sometimes she thrives in their fear, and other times she just feels alone. She told you that she doesn’t want to hurt people anymore just because she’s hurting, and that she’s trying to make people comfortable around her again.

The intimidation used to be from fear, now it’s from awe, so you suppose her plan hasn’t really worked. People worship the ground she walks on.

You worship the ground she walks on.)

Quinn is more deep than you expected though, and more deep than you’re sure everyone else expects. She’s more funny, more smart, more self-deprecating, more hurt, more nerdy, more goofy—than you ever realized.

She’s just a person full of surprises.

“Y/N?”

You jump in the hospital bed in alarm, your side and shoulder aching in protest. Yep. Quinn is full of surprises.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asks, giving you a sad smile. “Sorry for shocking you.”

Kurt pokes his head over her shoulder (it’s weird seeing them so close), “you don’t look so good,” he points out, as if you hadn’t already figured that out. The glare you send him has him shrugging.

“I’m fine, babe.” You ignore Kurt’s smirk at the nickname. “Could one of you just ask the doctors for about twenty pills for the pain?”

“And a hairbrush,” Kurt jokes, though his eyes are lined with the worry he thinks he’s hiding well, “got it.”

“You try getting pushed off a small cliff by a truck, see how you look afterwards!” You yell at Kurt’s retreating back.

There’s a tense silence the second Kurt is out of the room. Quinn’s eyes are focused on a spot on the hospital sheets, and she doesn’t look at you, even as she tries to make a joke for some levity;

“Twenty pills is a definite overdose. I hope Kurt isn’t actually asking for that amount.”

You snort, shaking your head. “They wouldn’t give it to him even if he asked.” Then, quietly, you ask; “Quinn, are you alright?”

She shakes her head. “You almost died,” Quinn mumbles, and she says it like an explanation, you suppose it is one.

It was terrifying, those moments when the truck hit, and those long moments after when you were still conscious.

“I keep thinking about what would have happened if you weren’t even a bit as lucky as you were,” she admits, closing her eyes. “You almost died. The only reason you're here now is because you were lucky.”

“Quinn—”

“You can’t die,” Quinn says, her eyes desperate when they snap open to look into yours. “You don’t get to leave me. That can’t be an option.”

But it is, because nothing is really guaranteed in life. Quinn knows this, has known this since a very young age, you imagine.

“I’m sorry,” is the only thing you can manage to say in the face of Quinn’s sadness.

Quinn seems to get a hold of herself after your apology. She just shakes her head and runs a hand through her hair and she’s Quinn again. “It’s not your fault. Just work hard at getting better soon so you can help me get through the school days.”

You nod, then hesitate. “Will you love me if I never drive again?” It’s meant to be a joke but it comes out more seriously than you intend. Quinn’s eyes immediately go soft and loving.

“Yes. I’d love you even if you didn’t even want to sit in a car again,” she says, and you believe her. You believe her.

“Then you’d have to walk everywhere with me,” you laugh, even as tears fall down your cheek. Quinn immediately bends down to kiss them away.

“The more calories burned, the more junk food I can have,” Quinn reassures, and you love her.

You love her so damn much.

——

Kurt is eyeing you and Quinn with something like wonderments in his eyes later that day.

Quinn can’t bring herself to care much though. What he thinks about her relationship with you in the least of her concerns right now. The only thing she really cares about right now is you.

She cares about you looking at her the way you’re looking at her right now, with a dopey drug induced smile. She cares about the fact that you’re looking at her at all. You’re looking at her right now because you’re alive.

You’re alive, Quinn reminds herself. The what if’s don’t matter.

“Quinn, will you marry me?” You ask, words slurred together. It brings Quinn straight out of her thoughts and into the real world.

She blinks at you for a couple of seconds and then nods uncertainty. You won’t remember this anyways, Quinn assures herself, but as she looks over her shoulder at Kurt’s wide eyes she realizes that he will.

Welp.

“One day,” Quinn continues, for appearance sake. Kurt snorts behind her.

She can’t be whipped enough for her girlfriend that she accepts a proposal this young. (She is though. She hates to admit that she’s incapable of saying no to a question like that from you, but it’s the truth.)

“I wanna get married now,” You protest, and Quinn doesn’t really know what to say to that.

“Y/N you can’t force the girl to marry you. Have some respect,” Kurt says, laughter in his voice. Quinn’s thankful for his intervention, though she won’t show it.

You pout at Kurt, and then at Quinn, “Fine. Just tell me when you’re ready, okay?” You ask, and Quinn loves desperately. She loves.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Not even Kurt’s rambling about ‘the disgustingness of love’ keeps her from the lightness in her chest at seeing you smile at her the way you are now.

You’re going to be okay.

The both of you will be, Quinn realizes, when Kurt cuts off his complaints to start planning for your wedding.

“We won’t be getting married for a while,” Quinn reminds the both of them. She gets blissfully ignored after a side glance from Kurt and another pout from you.

She’ll be okay, and even—Quinn realizes—Kurt will be. She wasn’t paying attention to how devastated he seemed earlier today, but in the face of his relief and happiness the differences between his behavior now seem obvious now.

He was devastated, but he’s okay now, because you’re awake. Quinn’s okay now because you're awake.

“Quinn, will you wear a suit for the wedding?” You ask, bringing Quinn out of her thoughts for probably the fifth time today.

Kurt snickers at Quinn’s resounding grimace, and his amusement only raises when Quinn mumbles, hesitantly, “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“That sounds like a no, dear sister.”

[winterscaptain]

pretty/drunk

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this doesn’t have any gendered pronouns, but some of the content was fairly fem-coded and i didn’t want anyone to experience anything triggering/unpleasant, so i tagged it fem. all my gals, gays, hes, and theys can be pretty and wear fancy underwear!! (i can always adapt a super super gender neutral version if anyone wants it! or hell, even male-coded. we’re inclusive in this house!) also my smut taglist is...not updated. yikes.

words: 2.5k warnings: alcohol use, drunk!aaron, smut (oral w/reader receiving, penetrative sex, creampie)

summary: “compliments cost nothing, yet many pay dear for them.” - thomas fuller

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

“You’re so pretty,” Aaron says, his words only slurring a little. He’s followed you into the bathroom at Will and JJ’s like a lost puppy and can’t keep his hands to himself. 

You laugh, pulling his arms further around you. “Aaron, honey, you’re really drunk.”

His brow crinkles. You can see it in the mirror. “Do I… not tell you you’re pretty when I’m not drunk? Because I should do that.”

“No,” you assure him with a pat to the back of his hand. “You do, but you have less of an agenda when you’re sober.”

He laughs in that delightful little way he does when he’s drunk and he knows he’s been caught. “That’s not true. I always have an agenda.”

As if to make his point, his mouth drops to your neck, finding that spot that makes you sigh. You can feel your heartbeat in your bits at this point, but you won’t give him the satisfaction. 

You turn, holding his face in your hands. His eyes are only a little glassy - he’s playing it up because he knows it makes you laugh. “You’re not very subtle, sweetheart.”

“But you’re so pretty,” he grumbles, tucking his face into your neck again. 

“Okay, love. Let’s go. C’mon.”

You eventually get him back down the hallway and into the living room. 

Emily smirks at you, but you only roll your eyes and shake your head. 

Don’t be ridiculous. 

She shrugs. Not the first time it woulda happened. 

Fair point, your eyebrows say. She laughs. 

Jack’s running soccer drills with Henry in the backyard - still full of energy despite the ridiculously late hour - and JJ’s offered to have the boys over at her place tonight. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Pfft, absolutely. What’s one more? Jack’s easy.” 

You laugh lightly. “Can’t argue with that.” 

“And,” she adds, “I figure you guys could use the night. You know, sober up and stuff.” 

Squinting at her, you say, “I’m not drinking tonight.” 

“Just sayin’.”

With a roll of your eyes, you take Aaron by the elbow and lead him out the door and into the car. He’s terribly floppy when he’s just passed buzzed, but you know he’d never get drunk enough to actually make you babysit him. 

He’d explained it to you once. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not in my twenties anymore so wicked hangovers are an inevitability. And it’s inconsiderate.” 

+++

He’s particularly handsy as you walk up to the apartment, impeding your forward momentum as he drags you back against him, grinding playfully against you at every opportunity. 

“Aaron, quit!” You whisper-shout at him, mindful of your neighbors. It’s much later than your usual arrival time and you’re actually aware of the sleepy nature of the suburban apartment complex on a Saturday night. 

You finally let yourself into the apartment and lock the door behind you, setting the alarm as soon as you take your shoes off. 

Aaron’s leisure is apparent - he’s taking his time with his winter trappings (though you’re pretty sure he’d trip if he went at his normal pace). You watch him methodically place his shoes into the rack and hang his coat, brushing imagined debris off the sleeve. 

When he’s done, he turns back to you with a look he might think is smooth. Really, he just looks rather undone. 

Delightfully undone. 

You sigh and cross the room, pulling his lips to yours and winding your fingers in his hair. He moans into your mouth and you’re violently reminded of the other perk of an inebriated Aaron: while already vocal, his lowered inhibitions increase his volume in… almost every situation. 

“Come to bed, baby,” you whisper against him. 

You can feel his smile. “Okay.” 

Taking him by the hand, you drag him to your bedroom and close the door behind you out of habit. 

He presses you against the wall, his hands wandering down your ribs, your hips, your ass, up your shirt as his searing kisses poke holes in your desire to sleep. 

You pull back, your head against the wall. “I have something for you. Wanna see?” 

His eyes are firmly stuck on your mouth, but he nods. 

“Wait for me. I’ll be right back.” 

With a wolfish grin, he steps back (carefully) and starts to undo his belt buckle. As nice a visual as that is, you know you have a limited window before he crashes. 

Drunk Aaron often means Sleepy Aaron. If your estimation is right - you have about ten minutes. 

Slipping into the bathroom, you dig around in your side of the cabinet until you find the little bag you’ve been hiding. It’s lingerie you bought last year on his birthday, but hadn’t had the occasion to show him - between cases and Jack, there was never an opportune time. 

You change somewhat leisurely, giving yourself the time to get really worked up, thinking about the way Aaron’s hands and mouth feel on every square inch of your skin. When you’re well and truly warm, you open the door -

And find Aaron completely zonked, naked, halfway-under the turned-down covers. 

Looks like it was more like five minutes. 

You can’t help but smile at the sight. He’s adorable with his face all squished into the pillow, curled toward your side of the bed. 

You strip, leaving the treats back under the cabinet, and slip under the covers wearing nothing at all. 

+++

You’re sure you’re having the best sex dream of your life. Getting all worked up before bed often had its own consequences, but you find yourself waking before you can really grab onto the feeling. 

A bit frustrated, you rouse yourself and realize Aaron grinding against you isn’t part of your dream. You reach back, tangling your fingers in his hair - not enough to pull, but enough to let him know you’re awake. 

“Aaron?” 

“Hmm?” 

You let out a shaky breath and arch your back, sending your ass right into him. He groans and you feel his hand wander from your abdomen to your center, aching and soaked all the way to your thighs. 

His talented fingers wander over your heated skin, circling your clit and dipping into you but not enough. You wiggle against him impatiently, but he shushes you, laving your neck and shoulder with languid, wet kisses that leave you squirming. 

Your eyes flutter shut as he ducks under the covers, his kisses traveling down the curve of your spine, to your waist. You squeak when his teeth sink into the soft skin above your hip, immediately soothed with his tongue. Letting him lead, you wait until his fingers wrap around your knee before you swing your leg over his head. 

His pleased hum is audible and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

Your heel slides up his shoulder in your attempt to get him where you want him, but you can feel the muscles of his back ripple as he resists you, pillowing his head on your thigh. 

Aaron presses kisses to the crease of your thigh until you’re well and truly squirming. 

He lets out a drawn-out moan as his tongue makes contact with your slit and you swear he drinks from you before sloppily licking and mouthing his way to your clit, rolling the little nub on his tongue. 

“Perfect,” he whispers against you, wrapping his lips around you and sucking for a moment before taking one long pass from stem to stern with the flat of his tongue. 

You whimper, pressing the back of one hand to your mouth while the other tangles in his hair, holding him in place. 

He lifts, even against the pressure of your hand, and looks up at you, his nose, mouth, and chin glistening in the low light. “Nobody’s home, baby.” He drops a kiss to your clit. “Let me hear you.” 

You keep your eyes on his as he positively devours you. After what seems like forever, he drops his gaze, giving you a breathtaking view of his long eyelashes resting against his cheekbone. 

His arms slide over your lower back, wrapping around you to hold you steady as he rocks his face into you. It’s sloppy, loud, and immaculate. 

Closing your eyes and relaxing everything you can, you focus entirely on the sensation of his tongue against your clit, the way the whole lower half of his face burrows as far into you as he can get, ever seeking something more, somewhere closer. 

Your walls flutter on their own, pushed to the brink by his ministrations. Your hips buck a little and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in a huff. 

“Fuck, Aaron. You’re so good.” 

“Mhmm.” His hum doesn’t leave your skin, but he still sounds way too full of himself. When you yank on his hair in light admonishment for his own self-awareness, he lets out another groan from deep in his chest. 

It rumbles through you, all the way to your bones. You can’t help but shudder again and his arms tighten around you.  

You can feel his muscles pull and flex under your calf as he chases friction, grinding into the sheets. His expression belies none of it - there’s not a grain of tension in his forehead, his eyebrows sit relaxed when they’re not pulled together in surprise or pleasure. 

One of his arms slides out from under you, running his fingers over your thigh before lifting his mouth from you. He wets his fingers, pulling them slowly from his lips and dropping them to tease your entrance. 

He raises his eyebrows expectantly, meeting your eyes. 

You give in. 

“Please.” 

With a smirk, he runs his fingers from your bundle of nerves to your slit, slipping them inside you with unbearable lack of haste. You wiggle against him and he relents, diving back into you with more than enthusiasm. 

Your voice is somewhere between a gasp and a whine. “Aaron, you’re gonna make me come.” You twist, but his arms hold you fast as you curl into your pillow. 

He doesn’t falter for a second, going down on you like it’s his favorite thing to do (it is, actually) until you’re overcome, shaking and overwrought with pleasure. His gentle guidance through your peak only prolongs it, sweetening the pleasure until it hums through your body. 

Finding his way back to you, he takes the same route he took on his way down, kissing his way to your knee, taking your leg back over his head, and wandering up your back with his lips and tongue. 

He settles behind you again and wraps you in his arms, pressing kisses to your neck. 

You turn your head and he meets your lips with his own. It’s an awkward angle, sure, but sex by definition is awkward - what’s one more element? 

You kiss the taste of yourself off of him, his little pleased noises only egging you on. Impatiently, you reach behind you and wrap your hand around his cock, stroking just the way he likes it (with a twist of your wrist at the tip) until he stops you with a hand over yours. 

“Either I come inside you or not at all.” 

With a little laugh, you release him. “By all means, darling. Be my guest.” 

Aaron’s got a stupid little smile on his face you can only see half of, but you make it clear you have no intention of moving, arching your back again to give him more access. 

Positioning himself between your thighs, he runs his cock over your heated flesh, between your lips, still sensitive from your orgasm. You relax into him with a shaky exhale, rocking back and seeking friction. 

His breath is hot at your ear as he eases into you, the angle from this position new and tight. You move with him, meeting him inch for inch as he slowly gives you more and more with each thrust. 

He brings his hand to your waist and you can feel him trembling. You bring your knees closer to your chest and he shifts so the top of his thighs are flush with the back of yours. 

You whimper as he finds that place inside you, and hits it over and over and over with alarming consistency. He’s bottoming out with every thrust and you’re seeing stars. 

The arm underneath him snakes under your pillow and around your shoulders, his fingers splayed over your chest. The arm at your waist sneaks down to your clit and you do him a favor - lifting your knee as close to your shoulder as you can get it. 

He loops his arm around your thigh, holding you open for him, while he drowns his fingers in his handiwork from before. It’s been almost two years and he's mastered that angle on your clit - the one that has you nearly in tears within seconds, gasping little sobs leaving you as you’re once again pushed to the breaking point. 

“Harder,” you tell him. “More.” 

His lips glued to the slope between your neck and shoulder, he pounds into you faster, harder, the sound of his hips snapping to yours filling the bedroom. 

Your orgasm crests over you all at once and you can’t even thrash as your vision whites out and your legs violently shake - his hold on you is tight and all-consuming. He well-and-truly fucks you, chasing his pleasure while riding you through yours. 

He gasps and you know he’s close. You bring your hand behind you to his hair again and hold him to you, the softness of his ungelled hair grounding you as the rest of your body continues to alight with sensation. 

“Fuck, I’m -” His brief warning is rough, breathless, and relentlessly hot. You look in front of you, seemingly for the first time, and realize your mirrored closet doors are right there. 

Your mouth drops open as you watch Aaron drive into you, deep, and unlatch from your neck, his eyes squeezing shut and mouth open, a groan leaving him. You can feel him inside you, warm and full, as he releases, his hips barely leaving yours as he shallowly ruts into you. 

You can’t tear your eyes from his reflection. He’s beautiful - perfectly undone and entirely blissed out. You clench and flex, milking everything you can from him until his body seems to melt into yours, the tension drawing out of his fingers, arms, then finally his brow. 

He hooks his chin over your shoulder, laying his cheek against yours. A low hum leaves him and a content smile curls at his lips. 

Yours matches, and you lace your fingers through his, pulling his arms tighter around you. “Did you tick off all your agenda items?” 

His eyes remain close as he answers with a little nod. “Mhmm.” 

“Are you still a little drunk?” 

“Hmm…” He actually thinks about his answer for a second. “Only a little. Mostly wanted to make you laugh.” 

You’ll have to go clean up eventually, but he snuggles impossibly closer, still inside you as he softens, and kisses your cheek, sweet and chaste. 

“You’re so pretty.”

tagging:  @quillvine @stxrrywildflower @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pinkdiamond1016 @aaronhotchnerr @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @ssa-morgan @violet-amxthyst @capricorngf @pan-pride-12 @mandylove1000 @joanofarkansass  @cevanswhre @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @mandylove1000 @jeor @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @winqhster @the-falling-in-the-danger @iconicc @mangoberry43 @crazyshannonigans @ceceguajardo-blog @deagibs