#to have it in my hands (and be an UNOPENED box) for five more days?!

[xadenviolct]

If I'm gonna pay to have a personalized and signed copy of a book by an insta-buy author for me, and you, as a business, are going to ship it to me before it's released (a book, by the way, that I had pre-ordered ages ago)...

Do you really expect me to wait to open it?

Like, I mean, how strong do you think my book-obsessed willpower is?!

It's in my hands. It's in my possession. Do you really, honestly, expect me to WAIT to open it (I mean, I may not READ it right away since I am in the midst of reading some other things) but wait to OPEN it and LOOK at it for several DAYS?!

Even little Xaden here thinks that's crazy!

[botanicsoul]

Trinkets

Time skip | Bakugou Katsuki x gn! Reader

-> if you are a trinket lover / blind box obsessed freak! this is for youuuuu ;)

. ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

It started small.

A little cinnamon roll keychain on your bag. A Smiski peeking out from your bookshelf. Bakugou didn’t think much of it when he first started coming over. He figured you were just cute. Weird, but cute.

Then, like some chaotic collectible infestation, it multiplied.

He spotted one on your nightstand. A tiny half naked baby with a strawberry hat and dead eyes. He actually flinched.

“What the actual fuck is that.”

“That’s my Sonny angel,” you said, completely unfazed. “I got him from a blind box. I was trying to get the cherry one.”

“There’s more of them?”

“…Yeah?” you said, slowly, like it was obvious. “You’ve never opened a blind box before?”

“No.” His tone was flat. “Because I’m not five.”

But you caught him glancing at the tiny shelf where four more Sonny Angels had mysteriously appeared—cherry, watermelon, a rare sprout head one… and a cursed one with a eggplant hat on that you’d named eggward.

Soon there were Smiskis in your bathroom (they glowed in the dark—how could you resist?!), tiny Sanrio figures peeking out from plant pots, and a few bakery animals lined up on your kitchen windowsill like a cursed breakfast buffet.

There was a Nyota figure holding a star above its head, perched on your bookshelf now. You claimed she brought good vibes. Bakugou wasn’t convinced.

But what finally broke him—what made him realize he was in too deep—was the day he spotted a rogue trinket on his own nightstand.

A miniature hirono figure, next to his alarm clock.

“I don’t remember putting this here.”

You blinked innocently. “He looked like he needed a home.”

——

A few weeks later, you come home after your shift and You step into your living room—and there it is. A new wall-mounted shelf. Sleek. Sturdy. Hand-built. Three tiers.

You cover your mouth. “Katsuki…”

He doesn’t look at you, crouched by the toolbox, eyes still focused on tightening the last screw. “Ya didn’t have any damn space. Those little freaks were gonna start multiplying on the floor.”

You just beamed, walking over and wrapping your arms around him from behind.

“…You love my little freaks,” you whispered against his neck.

“god you’re weird.”

⸻

Later that night, after you’ve lovingly arranged your favorites on the shelf—you spot a small, unopened Pro Hero blind box tucked into your pillow.

Your eyes go wide. “No way.”

Bakugou, toothbrush in mouth, doesn’t look up. “Told that nerd Deku to bring me one from his collab drop. Figured you’d like it.”

You tear it open like a kid on Christmas.

And scream. “IT’S YOU.”

Bakugou looks over—and sure enough, there he is. Chibi him. Little angry face, little gauntlets, little explosion backdrop.

“Holy crap, Katsuki—he’s got a tiny scowl and everything!”

You clutch it like a prize. “This is going on the top shelf.” Bakugou tries to act like it’s nothing. Like he’s not soft. Like he didn’t literally build you a shrine for your trinkets and get you a mini version of himself because he knows how much you love them.

. ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

[writersblockedx]

Something Inappropriate: Chapter Three

Pairing - Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - Spencer takes Y/n in, doing anything in his power to offer her comfort while she seeks safety in his apartment. Warnings - Mentions of toxic relationship, i think that's it x Words - 2.1K

Masterlist

Spencer Reid's apartment was exactly what Y/n expected but also not at the same time. Of course, his living room/kitchen area was lined with bookshelves, literature ranging from philosophy to quantum physics. All of the spines broken in. He had a leather couch, exactly like the one in his office only bigger and filled with a couple of plush cushions. He had spots filled with plants which were dying for some water but no other sign of life.

Y/n didn't know much about her professor's personal life. Only the information he spoke about in lectures - which barely ever exceeded his past workings alongside the BAU. However, she expected something more to him than well, himself. She first imagined him with at least a girlfriend, wife maybe. But, whenever she had been in his office, all that sat at his desk was a frame pictured of his team and another of him and, who she assumed was, his mother.

He wasn't a recluse, but he certainly seemed introverted. At the very least, Y/n had almost expected a dog or some small pet coming up and greeting her. But, within one glance, she came to realise the only other living thing in this apartment was the withering plants.

"I hope you don't mind the mess," Y/n gazed back around the room; on her terms, this was tidy. "I didn't realise I'd have company."

Y/n shrugged, still shaken from the events of the day, "Dont worry about it." Maybe she needed to clean her own flat if this was what the man considered a mess.

Suddenly, Spencer became very aware of himself. His hands fidgeted at the top of his trousers as he spoke, "Do you want anything? Food? Drink? I have erm-" He was already moving towards the wooden cupboard above the stove, "I have this tea," He graspped a small, unopened box of British tea that the girl didn't recognise. "One of my co-worker likes to try all of them, they're not really my thing." He rambled.

Y/n only shrugged once more, "Sure, I'll try it."

Spencer grabbed two cups, brewing himself a pot of coffee and attempting to make the tea which Penelope had given him. Within five minutes, he wandered over to the sofa and passed the girl her drink. "One of my team members worked in London for a little while, so," He offered an awkward smile.

"Is she the one for gave you the tea?" Y/n questioned as her knees found her chest and she blew against the boiling drink.

The boy laughed in a whisper, "No, no. Our technical analyst visited her once and demanded we all try the different types of teas from over there." He explained.

"I'm guessing you didn't like it then?" She asked.

He shook his head, "Not my thing." And Y/n looked back to the tea, letting it's scent fill her nose; surely it wasn't so bad. She sipped at it, the warmth of the tea filling through her lungs. It wasn't as bad as Spencer made it out to be. A similar taste as coffee: acquired. And, in her current state, she didn't care what she was drinking. All Y/n cared for was whether she was safe or not. When she glanced over at Spencer she felt safe, she felt comforted. Two things which had been rare for her in the past year.

"Could I ask you something?" Y/n speaks up after a moment of quiet, the only sound being the news channel which was lulling in the background of both of their thoughts. Spencer had looked over and nodded instantly, feeling a pull towards her, towards whatever it was which was swirling around in that marvellous mind of hers. "Do you think I could make it? In the BAU I mean. I like to think I'd be able to, but sometimes you talk about cases and all I can compare it to is horror stories."

It was a worry of which lots of students possessed. And it was true for some students, the very smell of a corpse had made several students whom believed they were ready, hurled over and vomiting. There was lots to it. And even now, after all the cases Spencer and his team had gone through, some hit hard. That was always going to be the case - it was just whether you could compartmentalise it or not.

"You're an excellent student, Y/n." Spencer commented, "Being in the field is different but you get used to it and you'll soon learn to draw a line between what happens in the field and what happens at home." The boy continued to explain.

She nodded along and glanced back at her tea, "Is that why you went back to teaching instead?" The girl wasn't certain as to whether she was overstepping. There was line. They had to maintain the relationship of student and teacher. Yet, she was here in his apartment, drinking his tea, sat on his couch. Maybe that line had already been crossed.

Spencer had shrugged, "Partly, I suppose." He answered, giving the girl a small smile.

After that, the girl became quiet. She sipped on her tea and mindlessly watched the brain-numbing tv show that had been playing in the background. Here felt safe. It felt better than had she dared go home, awaiting the sound of the buzzer, of the man she dreaded at her accommodation door. Or even in a motel, staring up at the ceiling, wishing she was somewhere she could call home - of even safe.

But here, here, was safe. He was safe - dare she come to admit such.

And when her eyes became heavy, she didn't stop herself. Not like she normally would. Sleep was scary when that certain ex-boyfriend was on her mind. Y/n's mind never felt safe enough to let her sleep. Not until she was sat across from her professor. In his locked apartment where no one could ever find her.

When Spencer glanced back at her, the girl lulled into her dreams, he slowly stood. He crouched before her, a gentle hand pressing at her shoulder, "Y/n-" He whispered.

The man was met with her jumping awake, a breath sucked right into her lungs like she had been drowning in her sleep. "Hey, hey," He rushed out, "You're okay, you fell asleep, it's okay." He soothed.

Spencer's hand had never left her shoulder and she was grateful for such. His touch was real. This was real - unlike what she thought. Without even thinking, her own hand moved up, grazing against his own, her eyes shutting as to give herself a moment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to jump." She muttered back before her eye fluttered back open.

His eyes explored her own. His hazel hues stared into her like he was reading her very thoughts. The girl wondered if he knew that she wanted him, that she was imagining his arms around her like a protective shield. When Y/n came to realise how inappropriate her own thoughts were, her hand fell. "How about you go to sleep?" Spencer suggested as he too pulled his touch away. "I'll get you some clothes, is that alright?"

Y/n nodded but the very thought of his material on her skin made her shiver. Still she waited in his spare room until he returned. It was like any guest room; bare of much personality. A bed that seemed to not have been slept in since it had been made. A dresser which was home to Spencer's Summer clothes he never wore and some books which weren't impressive enough to lay in his living area.

"Are these alright for you?" He questioned, passing over some joggers and a plain white t-shirt. "I don't know if they'll fit but you know-"

The girl glanced down at the clothes and simply shrugged, "They're perfect, thank you." She offered him a grin as a wave of awkward silence passed over the room; maybe she shouldn't have called his clothes perfect. They were just joggers and a top. Nothing special.

Spencer fidgeted and rolled on the balls of his feet, "Well then I'll erm- I'll let you get some rest." He spoke, already heading to escape what had become an awkward situation.

Once his back was turned, Y/n spoke up; a pathetic attempt to voice the true appreciation she felt for her professor, "Doctor Reid?" She called before the man slowly glanced back at her.

His face softened, his stiff shoulders relaxed, "Please, just call me Spencer."

Y/n's face bobbed down as her smile fought to the surface, "I erm- thank you, again, I mean it. I don't know what I would have done without you." The girl truly meant her words. It was rare she had anyone step in the way Spencer had done, offering her anything and everything. All to ensure her very safety.

"I'm here for you, Y/n." The man assured, "I'm not just your professor, I want to make sure you're okay." He said such so easily. Like he hadn't just maybe said something he shouldn't have done.

Spencer was just her professor. The professor who was looking out for his student's wellbeing. Nothing more - nothing less. Or at least that's what he would be telling himself.

For that night, the two slept in different beds, in different rooms. Yet they were barely meters apart. The comfort of safety made the bed feel like clouds as Y/n finally had the rest she was in such desperate need of. But when morning came, the daunting idea of going into the police station suddenly suffocated her.

She wandered out of the guest bedroom, dressed in nothing but Spencer's t-shirt and her own pants. The man was already there, dressed in bed-head and lazy pyjamas as he leaned over the kitchen stove. It was the scent which met Y/n's senses first; the crisp, burning smell of what she assumed was bacon. "Jesus, what are you cooking?" She winced at the smell, daring to move further into the kitchen.

Spencer glanced back, spatula in hand, "Bacon and eggs." He was gazing back with a harsh shrug, "I don't normally have guests so I'm erm- I'm-"

"Struggling?" Y/n finished his sentence for him. When he nodded, the girl slipped into view of the food. She chucked away the charred bacon pieces, slipped some more oil over the pan and placed fresh rations into the pan. "You had it on too high," She informed as she turned the fire on the stove down, "Hopefully it's better now."

When Y/n looked back to Spencer, she found his eyes already on her, like he was staring into her soul, seeing something in her that he hadn't before. Maybe it was this feeling of a domestic atmosphere. Making breakfast in their pjs, not caring for the fact they weren't ready, the care, the urge to have her here every morning. That was something of which Spencer couldn't shake.

"Right, of course." He mumbled before returning to stare at the meat.

An hour of so later and the two had something which wasn't burnt for breakfast. They were dressed and ready. Or as ready as Y/n could be for something like this. Talking about her ex-boyfriend, even thinking about her, caused her a wave of nerves she couldn't quite escape. And when Spencer's hand reached the door nob of his apartment, he came to realise the girl wasn't following after him.

With it open a jar, he glanced back, "Everything okay?" She simply swallowed the lump which had grown in her throat and Spencer knew. He took a few steps closer to her, "I know this is scary, but it will be worth it. An hour of anxiety, is worth being free of it forever."

The man then extended his hand for her to take, an offer of support. And when Y/n interlocked her fingers with his, she felt more ready than ever. "Yeah, yeah." She nodded before the two exited his home.

She preyed this was the start of the end. No more fighting in the beer gardening, no more panic attacks, no more sleepovers at her professor's apartment....no more security. Maybe it was wrong for her to yearn for this to continue. Not the stalker ex, but these nights, these mornings. Maybe it was wrong for her to long for something so inappropriate. Yet she couldn't seem to help herself and neither could he.

--

Taglist: - @tonystankhere @ilikw @abbiesxox Let me know if you'd liked to be added!

[httpsdana]

Heyy, u’re literally the best at writing, fr!! I love how u can develop anything so well. U’re 100% my fav on this platform, no doubt. Can I request something? Hope it’s not too confusing, and sorry for the long msg!  

The reader is friends with one of the Bayern players' girlfriends and just moved to a new place. To cheer her up, they throw a party, thinking it’s the perfect chance for her to start socializing. What she doesn’t know is that her friend and her friend's bf have a plan—they’re sure Jamal will fall for her instantly.  The problem? He’s not her type at all. Her dad is a former football player, so she knows this world way too well and has always avoided getting involved with players. But when she gets to the party, she ends up having more fun than expected, and little by little, she gives in to Jamal’s charm—not completely, but enough to agree to watch him play. After the game, he somehow convinces her to go on a date.  

I imagine a cute, slightly clumsy (because he is) but super funny Jamal, trying to win her over in the most natural and spontaneous way.

Not My Type~Jamal Musiala

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: since @joaosnovia posted a Jamal fic today, I decided to do it too 🙂‍↕️. enjoy <33

She had only been in Munich for two weeks, and the boxes in her apartment still sat unopened like witnesses to her hesitation.

The city was beautiful. Her job was solid. Her apartment was charming. But that didn’t stop the occasional wave of homesickness from crashing in.

It didn’t help that her dad, who was a former national team player and walking cautionary tale, had raised her to despise a certain type of man. One with fast cars, faster lives, and jerseys that seemed to come with commitment issues stitched into the seams.

Her best friend Candice, however, had other plans.

“Come on,” she grinned, eyes practically sparkling over her wine glass. “We’re throwing a little get-together. A housewarming-slash-welcome-to-Munich kind of thing. It’s nothing crazy. Just some people. Music. Maybe a beer or two. You need this.”

“You mean you need me to socialize so I stop texting you memes at 3 a.m.,” she deadpanned.

She didn’t deny it. “That too.”

She rolled her eyes but agreed nonetheless. And that’s how she found herself in her boyfriend Leroy Sané’s flat two nights later, wearing a simple top and skirt, trying to look casual while feeling utterly out of place.

People milled around, drinks in hand, music low and easy in the background. Candice was glued to Leroy’s side, beaming as she introduced her to everyone. From teammates to girlfriends to random acquaintances. She smiled politely, sipped her drink, and tried to ignore the part of her that screamed, Footballers. Everywhere.

“Hey,” Candice nudged her softly, her eyes flickering toward the door. “He’s here.”

“Who’s-”

Before she could finish, in walked Jamal Musiala, tall, lean, in a hoodie that looked one size too big and jeans that had seen better days. His curls were slightly messy, and he looked more like someone who’d gotten lost on his way to class than one of Germany’s brightest football talents.

She blinked in curiosity. He didn’t look like a player. But she knew better than to judge quickly.

“Don’t even think about it,” she muttered to Candice. “He’s not my type.”

She just smirked. “We’ll see.”

She hadn’t planned to enjoy the party. And she really hadn’t planned on spending half the evening talking to Jamal.

It started innocently enough. A casual hello, an offer to refill her drink, an awkward joke about how he never knew where anything was at Leroy’s.

She expected him to lose interest after five minutes, footballers usually did if she didn’t drool all over them quickly. But Jamal didn’t leave.

In fact, he kept coming back.

He made weird little observations that made her laugh, like how the chips were definitely overused but still addictive.

He knocked over a candle at one point and turned an alarming shade of red, apologizing like he’d just broken her grandmother’s urn.

He was...clumsy. Endearing. And surprisingly genuine.

At one point, when she rolled her eyes at a group of guys trying to start a beer pong tournament, he leaned over and whispered, “If you want, I can pretend we’re in a deep conversation about something super serious, like… the best way to eat a croissant.”

She tilted her head amused. “Croissants?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding solemnly. “Like, do you eat the ends first? Or do you go straight for the middle, where all the buttery goodness is? It’s a controversial topic.”

She stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. “That’s your idea of a serious conversation?”

“I mean,” he grinned, “some people fight about politics, I fight about pastries.”

She shook her head, amused despite herself. “You’re weird.”

“Thank you,” he said proudly.

Later that night, as the crowd began thinning, Jamal found her again. “I had fun tonight,” he said, a little shy. “Mostly ‘cause of you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You say that to every girl you talk to for more than ten minutes?”

His ears turned pink. “No,” he mumbled. “Just the ones who make fun of my croissant jokes.”

That made her bite back a smile.

“I know footballers get a reputation,” he added, quieter now. “But I’m not... like that. Just saying.”

She didn’t know why he felt the need to defend himself to her. Maybe Candice had warned him about her well-earned skepticism. Or maybe he just wanted to.

Before she could say anything, he asked, “You ever been to a Bayern game?”

She gave him a look. “You know my dad is a retired player, right? I’ve been to more games than I can count.”

“So you know it’s better when someone’s playing for you.”

She hesitated. “Is that what you’re doing? Inviting me to watch you?”

“I’m not promising to dedicate my next goal to you,” he said, grinning. “But I might look your way when I score.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fine. I’ll come. But no winking. Or heart hands.”

“Deal,” he said, and he looked genuinely excited.

She didn’t expect to enjoy the match as much as she did.

Maybe it was because she found herself watching number 42 more than she cared to admit. Maybe it was the way he played, not flashy, not arrogant, but clean and clever and creative. He moved like he was painting something on the pitch.

After the final whistle, Jamal found her near the exit. “So?” he asked, grinning, flushed with sweat and adrenaline.

“You were alright,” she said, trying to act nonchalant.

“only alright?” he gasped.

“Okay, okay, you were good.”

“Good enough for a post-match meal?”

She sighed dramatically, but the smile on her face said something else. “This is your plan? Charm me until I give in?”

“Is it working?”

She looked at him. Like really looked at him. He wasn’t what she pictured when she thought of “her type.” But maybe her type was all wrong. Because standing there, grinning at her like a fool, Jamal looked like the kind of boy who could sneak past her walls without trying.

So she nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s kind of working.”

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha @universefcb @mariejuli (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[daengtokki]

Hi there Dal! (Just thought it was a cute nickname for you, like the moon) First of all, I need to say thank you for your stories, it's a wonderful gift you're giving us! I had a request since like- chapter 6 of your Deity story? And maybe it will happen in chapter 11, but I really wanted to request a chapter reader centric where we learn more about her hobbies? What is she doing, when Seungmin is not home? Maybe now with the babies or even before? I know he's home most of the time, but I would really like to learn more about what she likes to do in her free time. Is she into painting, dancing? I remember she likes to play video games, it would be nice to just see her having an alone time and how does it affect her when he's not there ✨

serial killer!Kim Seungmin x afab reader

wc: 1.1k

rating: fluff

comments: honestly so happy you (and hopefully others) want to know more about reader/Tokki! I took some inspiration from your suggestions, and I’ll expand more as we go!

[ ML— DEITY MASTERLIST AND TAGLIST]

TAGS:@kkamismom12/ @r0tt1n/ @heluvschibi / @feckinbecky / @missystay / @seungluvr / @babrieeee / @curiouscocoabean / @feelikecinderella / @carpioassists / @soulsbbg / @san-axa0 / @vixensss / @keiizzx / @xyliskz / @reignessance / @velvetmoonlght / @ghostedgameplays / @pochaccochacco / @lashaemorow / @eastjonowhere / @fackeraccount / @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna / @maddycline / @smilefordongil

You look down at your phone as it buzzes, expecting a text from Seungmin, because why else would it be going off? But it’s not him this time. It’s a delivery notification.

He’s been surprisingly busy the last few days, so you've seen him far less than you're used to. Today is his first therapy appointment in a very long time (years, you think), and as much as he didn’t want to leave you home alone so soon after giving birth, he seems to be understanding that your alone time is as important as the time spent together. The two of you are always together, practically connected, and you can't help but feel like the twins are just a mirror image of you and him.

Down the twenty-five floors to the newly remodeled lobby—one of the reasons he’s been so busy. It was just cleaned, and the smell of it burns your nose a little. It is nice, though, because Seungmin has a good eye for the aesthetic. You feel plain next to him, even if he dresses down.

It can’t be that big of a package, you didn’t order that much, but there’s nothing in the mailbox when you finally get the key to work. It doesn’t need to be here today, and you weren’t even completely sure you wanted to order anything in the first place, but disappointment sets in regardless.

“Annyeonghaseyo!”

The mailman is heading for you, carrying two boxes and one more piece of mail.

“Annyeonghaseyo…jeongmal gamsahabnida!”

***

The yoga mat unrolls onto the bare floor, and you struggle to get down there with it. The energy rarely comes for this, and today happens to be one of those days—maybe it’s the unopened box staring you down, and the thought of what you plan on doing with it. You can’t keep your plans a secret because Seungmin won’t be gone that long, but you can at least start. Fifteen…maybe twenty minutes of yoga, and then you’ll open your mail.

This is the first time doing it by yourself in a while. Your body still hurts; every muscle is tight; joints are sore and stiff, and the yoga only helps a little. But it’s something, and it’s probably better for you than you realize. The post-baby bump hasn’t hindered you much, but it’s shrinking little by little every day, and your body is slowly returning to what you're used to.

You take a deep breath, roll up your mat, and slowly get to your feet. Seungmin usually helps you with this part.

Maybe some tea before you start anything else. You’ve let yourself build up a craving for the matcha you bought last week, and today you can finally try your hand at it. No… you think. That can be my reward for afterward. The tape pulls off easily, and when you open it, everything individual thing is neatly wrapped in brown paper. The first one you choose feels familiar. One tear, and you feel the soft bristles, and then you see the pretty red handle. The next package, more fine line brushes all bundled together. A palette, another pack of brushes, a canvas pad, a drawing pad, a graphite drawing set, and finally, at the very bottom; a small palette of gouache, and a dozen different acrylic paints. You prefer oil, but you don’t know when the babies will be home, and how much time you’ll have for everything to dry. It’s been so long since you’ve painted, so you hope it won’t matter which medium you jump back into.

But that was just the first box. The second smaller one contains the things you need to fix his music box; wood glue, a tool set, and various replacement parts that took you months to find. You haven’t forgotten about it, and you’re still determined to fix it.

Seungmin either didn’t notice, or didn’t care about the six hundred dollar bill you so easily racked up. He doesn’t seem to look too closely at his credit card bills, or his bank statements. The lone piece of mail that came with your packages just happens to be that—a bank statement. Sometimes he looks at them. Sometimes you feel curiosity pull at you and think about opening one to look, but you haven’t yet.

You collect all of your supplies and head for the nursery. It’s still somewhat messy, and luckily, most of the things Seungmin used to paint the walls a minty green are still in the closet. The corner next to the window is the spot you keep returning to—it’s small, but not so small that it will get lost in the room. Small enough that it can be easily covered if you’re unhappy with it, though. You lay the drop cloth on the floor and sit with your new things; you think, even though you know exactly what you want to paint, because you really do want it to be perfect.

***

The sound of Seungmin’s arrival; the deadbolt clicking, the door swinging open, his soft footsteps, are all drowned out by the music coming through the speaker on the corner of the changing table. You made a playlist of songs you thought he would like, and the ones he thought you would like, and you’ve been wearing it out for the last few weeks. It’s played through twice since you’ve started, and you’ve covered much more wall space than you expected. Just as you begin to wonder what he’s up to, a pair of eyes start to burn the back of your head.

“Hi. Sorry I was out so long, uhm…” Seungmin takes a few steps toward you so he can take in the scene better.

“Oh, hey...I was gonna surprise you, but I guess I lost track of time.”

He moves closer, “I am surprised.”

The scene you painted pops out against the light green wall. Big storm clouds rising up from the baseboard, a crescent moon, a subtle starry backdrop. The other wall has vines of moth covered moonflowers crawling up the wall. Most of it is still a rough sketch, unpainted.

“You can paint…and draw.”

“It’s been a while, but yeah, I guess I can still hold a brush correctly.”

Seungmin’s warm breath hits your ear as he laughs and grabs the hand still clutching your brush. “You can paint, very well. It looks like…” he thinks as he examines it even closer. “...like that almond blossom painting.”

“Van Gogh, you think it looks like Van Gogh?”

He nods happily, “yeah, I like that painting. I like his flowers. I like your flowers more, though.”

“I was going to do that corner the opposite. Sun, clouds…heliotrope, butterflies. I guess it’s a little cliché.” You catch his smile growing, though.

“Cliché?”

“Mm, overdone.”

“No, it’s perfect.”

You finally turn and really look at him. “You got your hair cut!” Seungmin pulls you closer when you cup his cheeks, and your fingertips touch the short hair around his temples. “It looks good.”

“It’s not too short?”

It looks like it did when you trimmed it for him months ago, but this time, it’s nicely styled. “No, I like it short. How was therapy?”

He scrunches his face and shrugs.

“We can talk about it over some matcha. How does that sound?”

“Yeah, okay. So…can you, uhm, paint people?”

“You want me to paint you?”

“Us…maybe.”

[lockandkeyblade]

it sounds like something vanitas would say

Prompt me!

As you wish. c:

Something He Would Say Xehaqus | VanVen | many years Post-KH3 | love letters | implied sexual content

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

The attic is hot.

There's nowhere else in Departure that can even be classified as hot, but for the fourth time in five minutes, Ventus reaches back to rub the back of his neck and grimaces as his hand comes away damp. He's only been up here for...twenty minutes, and he's got a whole day left to go- a day of sorting through chests of useless paperwork and books their Master (or the Masters before him) no longer wanted on the library shelves, peeking under dusty sheets at furniture and trying to decide if it's still good, or starting to rot.

This is not a day long endeavour. This is going to take him months, all because Vanitas convinced him to sneak off in the middle of the night so they could go stargazing on another World.

They-- might've done a little more than stargazing. For a few days. But that's not his fault!

"Vanitas doesn't have to clean the attic." He mumbles it to himself, voice stifled by the handkerchief he's tied over it; an attempt at avoiding all the dust making his nose and eyes run.

It's not helping. He's already sneezed, ten times. Maybe in another hour Aqua would take sympathy on him and let him breathe, for a while.

Sighing to himself, Ven spins in place, trying to find something neat to look at. At least the attic is good for that; he'd spent plenty of days up here when he was younger, clambering over piles of discarded furniture to get to buried treasures, unopened chests and a few neat little knickknacks he'd smuggled back to his room. The attic is a lot cooler when he's up here because he wants to be, although...

Is that section new? He doesn't remember seeing it before. But it's so obvious; facing the front of the building, with a big, stained glass window shining dusty light over everything. It almost looks neat, in comparison to the rest of this mess. Everything wrapped and bundled, enough space to walk between the stacks and closed off containers.

It might be new. And if it isn't, Ventus still decides it's the best place to start. Leaping over a few obstacles, he peers around eagerly, ready to stick his nose into the first box that looks like it hasn't been opened in years.

Liiiiike... that one! A little smaller than the others, tucked away neatly under a few heavy books. He drops to the floor, cross-legged, and sets it in his lap, smoothing lines into the dust as he goes. A smiley face, because of course. How else is he going to know if he's already opened something.

It rattles when he shakes it, but it doesn't sound like glass or metal, so off the lid goes! And so too does the majority of his excitement, when all he sees is a pile of scrolls, bound neatly shut by silver ribbons.

"Aw..." Lame. This isn't treasure at all; probably just some correspondence between dusty old guys from a few hundred years ago. He's seen that before. Pouting, Ven picks one up at random, tugging at the ribbon until it falls away. The parchment unfurls just enough to make out the first few lines, in a curly script he's never seen before.

My dearest Eraqus, it says, and- oh.

Oh.

Glancing around himself, Ven... wonders, if this part of the attic looks a little less dusty than the others. Maybe it is. Maybe it's... just a few decade's worth of dust, instead of centuries.

Maybe there's a reason he'd never found this place before.

Chewing his lip, he thinks about stuffing the letter back in, closing the box. Moving somewhere else. Maybe he can just tell Aqua, that he found it. Some of the Master's stuff.

...Maybe it wouldn't hurt to read some of it. What he's seen so far doesn't appear to be official, but you never know.

It might be important.

My dearest Eraqus, I imagine, as you eagerly unfold this letter to add to our ever growing pile of correspondence, that you expect some ornate soliloquy. An expansive journey throughout my longings to have you by my side, returned to me as you rightly should be. It is my utmost pleasure to remind you that our parting, sorrowful as it may be, rests entirely upon your shoulders. Has the Master not reminded you not to fall asleep during his lectures, multiple times? Your beauty is only on par with your ineptitude.

Holy shit.

Is this a love letter?!

Was Master Eraqus a bad student?!?! Whatever reservations Ven may have had before, they're gone. Dust to join the rest of the dust, hunching forwards as he unravels more of the parchment eagerly, smile curling at his lips.

Master Eraqus, sleeping through classes? He can't imagine. Didn't Terra get in trouble for that, once? Just once, because mistakes made around the Master were the sorts of things never made again.

Kind of nice, to think about. Once upon a time, their Master had been a goofy teenager, just like them. Imagine that.

How do I miss you? As one misses flies when summer leaves. I would call it relaxing, almost, the ease in which I have attended to my evening studies, without the incessant buzzing you seem determined to bring into my life.

"Wow, harsh." Maybe this isn't a love letter.

A determination you appear to have transferred into a relentless deluge of poorly written dialogue in a bid to make me one of two things. I'll have you know that being rostered to comb the empty cities around Scala ad Caelum is not only the kind of grunt work I would rather perish than attend to, the expansive variety of birds you have come across in your intrepid wanderings fails to capture the imagination. To make me pine for you? Another foolish notion. I have ever pined for you.

That's-

"Some really mixed signals." A whisper. Ventus can't draw his eyes away, trailing from one sentence to the next, swept up in-- apparent vitriol, something that caves in what feels like an instant.

The start of the letter feels playful, now. Like bullying; a few sharp words to make him incensed, to have him blustering and snapping back, sulking to himself when all that gains him is a laugh at his own expense.

Until an arm snaps around his waist, and pulls him closer.

There is a vacant space in my bed, these nights, one I am unable to fill. Though there has been no lack of trying, on my part, I admit that the single, half-baked method capable of providing some relief is to close my eyes and picture you there, as you always are.

A hum in his ear, even as he puffs. A smile against his skin, warm enough to steal a smile of his own, even though- he's still mad. Still angry.

He can't just decide he wants to be handsy now; not when Ven was practically offering that five minutes ago.

You have yet to see yourself the way I have, though I have described you often enough. When your eyes are dark enough to be mistaken as black, your hair strewn about you like a halo. It pleases me, greatly, to be the only one with access to you in such moments, the only one capable of drawing upon such visuals.

It always ends the way Vanitas decides it does. When he's done catching his breath, body aching deliciously, he always opens his eyes to the sight of him, staring back. Propped on his elbow, kneeling above him as his Darkness takes the time to... burn the image of him into his mind, slow but certain.

"Take a picture," Ven rasps out, too breathless to make it sound like a joke. "It'll last longer."

And Vanitas' lips curl, heady and satisfied.

"Why should I share you with a camera? You're--"

For the Master, for our fellow students, you will ever be the composed layabout. It is for me and me alone that you are dishevelled, me and me alone you are untamed. A Light most holy, one that is

"mine."

and mine alone. One more week. Then, I can prove this to you.

Xehanort

The box is closed.

Later, it's buried.

[ravenloftian]

Arrival in Marais d'Tarascon

November 13, Y356 (Game session 8/26/2023)

On the afternoon of the third day in the dark and fetid swamp, Percival catches up to Marcus and Val. After the party reunites, they continue on their way but progress is slow and difficult. The trees in this part of the swamp close in around the raft, forming a thick tangle of branches and exposed roots. Sharp, broken limbs scratch the party's arms and legs as they push the rafts forward, and the wind whistles an odd, lifeless tune as it rushes through the leaves. As they break through a clump of foliage, a light appears in the distance. It is brighter than a single lantern, warm and inviting in the cold, damp air. The light is not at eye level, it hovers in the dark so that they must look up to see it.

Like moths to a flame, the party slides easily toward the source of the light. As they get closer they see a small wooden house, hardly larger than a shack. Light spills from its two front windows and a wide open door. The house appears to be suspended in the air above the surface of the swamp, its reflection shimmering in the dank pool before it.

The house isn't floating in the air; it looks that way in the darkness. Four stout poles rise from the swamp, lifting the house 8 feet above the water. The poles protect the hut from rising water and the creatures of the swamp. Other than an occasional croak or cricket song, the swamp around the house is still.

As the rafts draw closer, a rope ladder drops from the doorway. No figure steps into the light, and not even a shadow passes the open door. The ladder, constructed of wooden steps and thick rope, simply rolls out with a brief clatter of knocking wood. The last step hangs just above the surface of the fetid water, inviting the paladins to climb into the warm light.

The first one up is Marcus followed by Val and finally Percival.

They soon discover that the little house has only one room. More than two dozen lanterns hang from pegs on the wall and sit on the warped wooden floor, flooding the shack with light. Unopened boxes have been neatly stacked against the wall to the right of the door. An open-topped barrel sits beside the boxes. In the center of the room, facing the door is a young man. He sits within a circle of five burning Lanterns, with his large, blank eyes fixed in place. The young man is skinny and pale, and his long, blond hair hangs limply to his shoulders. His features are tortured. The simple shirt and pants that he wears are clean and fresh. He clutches a small book in his lap but makes no move to get up or greet the party. Eventually, he struggles out an incomprehensible phrase:

"The on descend shall evil of night the land, at near is signs of hexad this when hand."

Then he returns to his quiet state, neither speaking nor responding in any way.

Inspection of the youth's book reveals that it is a volume of children's poems. Every poem is a short rhyme, similar to the confused verses which the youth utters. The first page contains an inscription: "To Luc, my beloved brother." It is signed "Marcel."

As night falls, the party prays to the Morninglord and avails themselves of the plentiful food and warmth of the cabin. The night goes quietly save for the strange rambling of the near-catatonic young man.

Percival manages to decipher Luc's riddle:

"The night of evil shall descend on the land when this hexad of signs is near at hand."

Hexad, they recall from a popular ballad, means "a group or set of six."

Val does the honors and sings the song.

The following morning, the party miraculously sees chimney smoke rising in the distance and they head in its direction, feeling at last like they are near their destination. As they board their rafts, Luc follows them.

As the party begin to leave the swamp and approach the village of Marais d' Tarascon, the sky fills with roiling black clouds. For the first time, lightning plays across the heavens.

No sooner do they enter town, Val proudly proclaims to all who would listen that the Paladins of the Morninglord have arrived. His outburst is met by silence, for the village seems deserted and the shops closed. Signs on doors read "Closed for Funeral" or "Gone to the Church."

As they approach the church where a crowd has gathered for a funeral, solemn faces gaze at them suspiciously, but no one says a word. The villagers soon return their attention to the priest who stands over a coffin wrapped with heavy chains.

The priest's booming voice echoes throughout the churchyard. "Friends and family, we mourn the untimely death of Jeremiah d'Gris,'' he laments. "Let us take comfort in the fact that he goes to a better place, and let us pray that his eternal rest is peaceful and without incident. Jeremiah, you will be missed, but you will not be welcome here again. Depart this plane and go to the next world with our blessing."

The priest continues his liturgy, even though a muffled bang causes him a moment's pause. The villagers flinch but quickly regain their composure. The bang sounds again from within the coffin. The coffin rocks back and forth, but the priest and the crowd ignore it.

As the party follows the priest and the mule-drawn cart up the hill toward the cemetery, the crowd follows. All the way up the hill, sounds of something trying to escape emerge from the shaking coffin. The villagers ignore it, but the priest waves his holy symbol over the box and whispers, "Jeremiah, be still."

The sights and sounds and the horror of the scene is too much as they have never seen the like. Confronting the undead for the first time leaves a lasting impression. Val goes into a state of dumbfounded shock, while Marcus becomes obsessed and cannot stop thinking about the thing in the box. Percival manages to keep his wits about him and ushers his companions to the Full Moon Inn so they can recover.

Once there, they order some ale and some cabbage rolls and take up rooms for the night. They are waited on by a chatty barmaid by the name of Katha, who tells them a gruesome tale.

"Over a week ago, Francois, a local fellow, well he fell dead right here in the common room. I was taking a break in the kitchen at the time, resting my weary feet near the back door. I remember, just before people started hollering in the common room, I got a whiff of some awful odor blowing in from outside. It was kind of like rotten meat-not that we serve any here, mind you-but worse. Luckily, I've got quite a strong stomach. In fact, I was just about to go outside to find out what could be causing that odor when the screams began. Then I saw Francois being carted off to be buried. You know, I forgot all about that awful odor until just a few days ago when old Fiora said she had smelled it, too. I'd lock your door while you're sleeping if I was you. Everybody in the village does now."

At around 9PM, Val snaps out of his dumbfounded shock and tries to convince everyone they must go back home to protect their friends and family. He is convinced that the dead acolyte might turn into an undead zombie at any moment putting the whole town in danger. Meanwhile, obsessed Marcus is raving about destroying the undead and figuring out how to end this scourge. Unalbe to sleep and disturbed, the paladins pay a visit to the church.

After much coaxing, the door opens and father Brucian lets them in. The priest is rattled by the late hour, the strange men at his door, and news of his acolyte. When confronted by questions as to why he has not done "something" about the situation, he doesn't have any good answers and grows somewhat cagey.

He says that villagers have been dying suddenly, even those who appeared strong and healthy a moment before. The first such death, about three weeks ago, was a field worker named Hogarth. Only minutes after falling dead to the ground, Hogarth rose as a zombie. Now Brucian always seals the coffins of the recently dead.

The trouble, they learn from Father Brucian began about three weeks ago. Since then, nine villagers have suddenly died, and six more are missing. His acolyte makes ten.

The cleric attempts to question Luc and makes certain the youth is alright and not being mistreated.

He warns the party not to bother the constable at such a late hour as the man has a foul temper, but encourages them to talk to him. Some of the folks that met their demise have been murdered and there are rumors that licorice candy has been found at the scene of the crimes.

Frustrated by the cleric's apparent incompetence, the paladins head up to the cemetery in the middle of the night. As they approach, they hear scraping sounds. Moments later, two fiendish ghouls throw themselves at the locked gate and begin to climb it to get at the paladins.

Val steps forward, holds up his holy symbol and commands the undead to perish. The ghouls shriek in horror, leap from the fence and flee into the darkness, vanishing among the graves.

Fearing that more such things will escape and plague the village, the party camps out in front of the cemetery gates.

To be continued...

Good job everyone! Excellent roleplay. You had me convinced you were horrified. :)

Marcus and Val, 300 XP Percival, 525 XP

[honeyhotteoks]

hold fast together (j.yh + p.sh)

summary: fourth installment in the husbands series; you want more, you want a family, but it’s never quite that simple part one: room for three || part two: and if i stay || part three: their gift

note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // this is just all the husbands yunhwa angst, fluff, smut, love, all of it. check the warnings before you read though!

warnings: non idol!yunho, non idol!seonghwa, fem!reader, married!yunhwa, established yunhwa x reader relationship, mmf, fertility issues, period talk, conception talk, stress and angst over conceiving, mention of adoption, brief mention of parental disapproval of reader’s relationship with yunhwa, but then on a lighter note....  praise, degredation/humilitation, reference to bdsm collar, use of puppy but not pet play this time, rough foreplay, rough sex, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), face riding, cum eating, cumshots, creampie, heavy handed breeding kink obviously, hard dom hwa and use of sir, hard dom yunho and use of daddy, anal play (m receiving), gratuitous use of good girl, sweet girl, pretty girl, slut, etc., spanking/impact play..... anyways this one starts off emo and then gets into filthy breeding kink that very few people asked for but HEY here we are - please let me know if i missed any.

pairings: yunho x seonghwa x reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff

word count: 12K

my masterlist || read it on AO3 || part five; a little more love to give

A little part of you is hoping you’re wrong, that the cramping is something else, but you’ve gotten so used to the feeling over the course of fifteen plus years of having a period that you know your hopes are just that. You use the bathroom quietly, chewing the inside of your lip and thinking about the unopened pack of pregnancy tests in the drawer next to you. The telltale feeling of blood makes you ill. 

A little part of you is hoping you’re wrong, that the cramping is something else, but you’ve gotten so used to the feeling over the course of fifteen plus years of having a period that you know your hopes are just that. You use the bathroom quietly, chewing the inside of your lip and thinking about the unopened pack of pregnancy tests in the drawer next to you. The telltale feeling of blood makes you ill. 

You’ve been trying for a baby for a while. Longer than some of your friends, but not as long as other people you know who’ve struggled with fertility issues, but none of it makes you feel any better. For all the years of birth control pills, condoms, panicked emergency contraception and cycle tracking, you always thought that once you were ready this was going to be easy. Decades of messaging about how birth control was never one hundred percent effective always made it seem like a single misstep would leave you knocked up in a minute. You never really considered you’d have to really try to get pregnant. 

You give yourself a little time to cry, slapping the tap on high to muffle some of the sounds of your sniffling. You give yourself five minutes, just five, to live inside this confusing sadness, and then you pat your face dry and resolve that it’s time to get on with it. You open the drawer, ignore the pregnancy tests sealed tightly in plastic, and fish a tampon out of their open box. When you’re finally ready to leave the bathroom, your eyes are a little red but it’s not immediately obvious that you’ve been crying, and that’ll have to be good enough.

Yunho and Seonghwa are still sleeping when you quietly pad out of the room, though they’ve rolled closer to each other with you out of bed. In the kitchen you start your morning routine, and you try not to think about it. You make coffee, disregarding the ache in your back. You put away the dry dishes, trying not to fixate on the number of periods you’ve gotten since you started trying for a baby. But that’s hard, especially with the pain of your first day cramps and the way you just want to curl up in a ball and go to sleep until it’s over. 

Your eyes fill with tears again, and you pour yourself a cup of coffee through blurred, cloudy vision. You reach up into the cupboard above the stove where you keep the medicine and the first aid kit and find the bottle of pain-killers, your breath hitching as your tears come faster. You knock your hand against your too-full cup of coffee and it spills across the counter, and you bite your tongue to keep from letting it get to you. It’s just an accident. 

It isn’t until you are trying to open the top of the bottle that your brain really starts to spiral. You can’t quite get the child lock arrows to line up, and the lid just won’t budge. Through your hazy tears you can’t really see where the arrows are, and frustrated heat flushes through your cheeks. Can’t one, single thing be easy? The arrows align right as you double your efforts pressing up on the lid in an attempt to force the bottle open, and it all but explodes in your hands. Tiny blue pills scatter everywhere, clattering across the counters and floor, the entire contents of the bottle upended. 

The white hot rage that bubbles inside you is fast and hard and you snap, throwing the empty bottle down with a tight sob, “God dammit!” You sink low, dropping to your knees on the tile and biting back the urge to break something else, anything else. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been kneeling here, trying futilely to gather up a little pile of the pills while the coffee finally makes it to the edge of the counter so it can drip down onto the tile next to you, but you hear his footsteps before he says anything. Yunho waits a moment, and you hear him pick up the bottle to your side before he sighs, “Oh, my love,” 

“Please, don’t,” You shake your head. 

“It’s okay,” He tries to soothe. 

“Do not tell me this is okay,” You say sharply, “nothing about this okay,” 

“Alright,” He murmurs, crouching by your side. His broad hand rests in the middle of your back, and you jerk at the sudden contact. 

“Just give me a second,” 

“Okay,” He draws his hand back. 

“I’ll get it together,” You such in a sharp breath, “and I’ll clean this up,” 

“You don’t have to do anything,” Yunho shakes his head, “just take a deep breath. Everything is,” he pauses, “going to be fine,” 

“Is Seonghwa awake?” You turn towards him, scrubbing your tears away with the towel you had picked up to mop up the coffee. 

“Not yet,” The face he’s giving you is so soft that you might scream. 

“Don’t tell him,” You shake your head, “just… I’ll do it later, I just,” 

“y/n,” Yunho murmurs, “come on, don’t do that,” 

You haul yourself up from the floor and drop the towel over the coffee spill, watching the way the dark liquid seeps into the white cloth. Your jaw locks together and you swallow tightly, kicking yourself back into gear and cleaning up the mess.

Yunho stands behind you and lays a hand on your neck, kneading your skin here gently, “Baby,” 

“Just don’t,” You repeat, “please, don’t tell him today,” 

“Don’t tell me what?” Seonghwa’s voice cuts through, muffled by his yawn and you curse softly. 

Yunho sighs and drops a kiss to your hair before turning to him, “Morning,” 

“Good morning to you too,” You hear the confusion in his voice but he makes it further into the room and you can practically hear the puzzle pieces slot themselves together in his brain, “oh,” 

That’s the tone you were hoping to avoid, Seonghwa’s soft disappointment. 

You release the collection of pills that you had picked up from the floor, leaving them in a neat little pile on the counter, and your tears rush up again. Yunho folds his arms around you instantly, cradling you against his chest and hushing you, his broad hand rubbing a firm, comforting line up your back. 

“I know you don’t want me to say it’s okay,” Yunho says, his voice low, “but I promise you that it is,” 

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, hiding in his chest and hanging onto the back of his shirt while you try to get yourself under control. You can’t help the way your mind starts counting though, going through every month. The first couple were easy to brush off, but now it’s not so easy. 

“Ten months,” You sob into his chest, “it’s been ten months,” 

“I know,” He murmurs. 

“We’ve been trying so hard,” 

“So we’ll try harder, or something different,” He soothes, “and they said it can take time for your body to re-regulate after coming off birth control. We’re not in a rush,” 

“I’m thirty-two,” You push back from his chest and wipe the tears away. 

“Mhm,” He nods, “I know that,” 

You can’t even so much as glance at Seonghwa, a single shred of his sad eyes at yet another month with no happy announcement would have you spiraling. You know how much he wants a child, how deeply he wants to be a father.

You drop your eyes, shaking your head as your back cramps again, “I just don’t know why I can’t even give you this,” 

“What?” Yunho’s voice is suddenly small, soft. 

“I’m supposed to be able to do this,” Your real fears bubbles up your throat, “y-you want to be parents so badly, I should be able to do this,” 

The silence stretches. Yunho looks stricken, your words rooting him to the spot. 

Seonghwa steps closer, resting his hands gingerly on your arms and finally breaking his silence,  “Do you think that’s all we love you for? All we want you for?” 

You can’t answer. 

He shifts to your side, kissing your temple and cupping your cheek in his warm palm, “You’re our wife,” he insists, “we didn’t want you because we thought you could make us parents, y/n, we want you. We all want to be parents, all of us together. Don’t we?” 

Hot pinpricks behind your eyes start again, but you nod into his palm, “I know, I’m sorry, I know,” 

“Yunho,” Seonghwa reaches out a hand, tugging him in close to make a circle. Seonghwa smiles, kissing you tenderly and then says, “This, the three of us, that’s what’s right.” 

“What if I can’t get pregnant?” You sigh, “What then?” 

“Then we see a doctor,” Yunho says, his voice thick with emotion before he clears it and gives you a comforting smile, “and if that doesn’t work, we’ll find another way. We’ll get a surrogate. We’ll adopt. There’s a million ways to have a baby, we just have to stay calm and stick together in this,” 

“I know you wanted it to be easy,” Seonghwa murmurs, “we all did, but sometimes it’s not easy. For millions of people it’s not easy,” 

Your mind flicks back to the expression on your mother’s face when she suggested it was because you were being greedy trying to love two men. You haven’t spoken to her since. You shake that off and lean into your partners, “Okay,” 

“Yunho’s right,” Seonghwa reassures you, “we have time, and we have options.” 

You know they’re right, it’s the speech you’ve been giving to yourself too in moments of panic, but hearing them say it finally starts to put you at ease. 

“For right now just relax,” Yunho kisses your hair, “you’re not feeling well so let’s go back to bed a while, it’s still early,” 

“Mm,” You nod, wiping away the last remnants of your tears and pushing away from them with a sigh, “you’re right, I’m tired,” 

“Let’s go,” Seonghwa says. 

Yunho and Seonghwa communicate silently with their eyes, and Yunho stays behind in the kitchen to clean up while Seonghwa ferries you back to bed. He makes short work of getting your heating pad plugged in and laid out across the bed and fluffing up the pillows before tucking you back in. Yunho brings you a fresh cup of coffee and a glass of water, two pain-killers tucked into his palm for you. 

“I’m sorry about before,” You sigh as he passes the pills over to you. 

“Don’t be,” He brushes off your words. 

“No,” You insist, “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that,” 

He nods, a soft murmur of thanks on his lips. 

You sigh heavily, rubbing your hands over your face and smoothing back your hair, finally getting your emotions back in check, “Are you getting up, then?” you ask them. 

Seonghwa shakes his head immediately, crawling back into bed, “You’re stuck with me,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mm,” He nods, snuggling close and kissing any scrap of skin he can reach, “we can spend the day in bed if you want, whatever you want,” 

“You’re supposed to write today,” You remind him, painfully aware of his fast approaching deadlines and how the stress has kept him from staying on track. 

Seonghwa shrugs, “That’s the beauty of my job,” he smiles, “I can do it whenever I want,” 

“Hwa,” You hesitate. 

“If I tell you that I need this too, will you stop arguing and just let me hold you?” He sighs. 

You nod, your voice stuck in your throat and you simply take his hand, letting yourself soften in his embrace. Behind you, Yunho slides into bed himself and tucks himself long against your back. He’s quiet though, so much more silent than you normally see. He should be complaining about the heating pad being too hot or your feet being too cold, he should be making some kind of joke or trying his best to comfort you both, but instead all you can feel is his tension. 

“Yunho,” You brush your hand over his, “what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, sweetheart,” His hand slips away. 

“You can talk to me,” You press him, “I know this is hard on you both too,” 

There’s a long pause, Yunho shifting in bed behind you until he settles but still says nothing. Your eyes flick to Seonghwa who watches him intently, trying to read into his husband’s sudden silence. 

Finally, Yunho sighs. “What you said earlier,” He murmurs, “I don’t understand why you’re blaming yourself for something that isn’t your fault. And it’s upsetting you more than you’re letting us know, and I don’t like it.” 

“Oh,” You breathe

“It’s no one’s fault,” He presses, “and I don’t want to hear you say something like that again,” 

You’re silent, still as you take in his words, but Seonghwa laughs humorlessly and then says, “Besides, it could be me,” 

“What?” You twist in Yunho’s arms to see Seonghwa better. 

“It takes two,” He shrugs, rubbing his hand over his neck, “someone has to actually get you pregnant, and it’s entirely possible that I can’t,” 

“Stop it,” Yunho says immediately, shifting up to a sitting position, “we’re not doing this,” 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Seonghwa says, and you watch his expression fall when he realizes his words. 

Yunho’s jaw tightens but he shakes it off, “Like I said, we’re not doing this. There’s no blame, no fault, this is just a thing we have to figure out. Together.” 

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa murmurs, and Yunho reaches across you to take his hand. 

“I’ll make an appointment,” You interrupt softly, “I think it’s time,” 

Yunho eases back down on one side, and Seonghwa follows on your other. You’re tucked between them on your heating pad, and Yunho pulls the comforter back up over the three of you to combat the winter chill of your apartment. Seonghwa smooths his hand over your lower belly and starts to gently press and circle his fingers, lightly massaging your tense muscles in just the way you need. 

“So, we’ll talk to a doctor then?” Seonghwa nods, “and go from there,” 

“Yeah,” You feel tears in your eyes again but you take a deep inhale and will them away. 

“For now,” Yunho says, brushing your hair away from your face, “let’s not think about it. Let’s relax and go back to normal, I can’t watch the stress eat you both up anymore,” 

“Are you okay?” You meet Yunho’s eyes. 

“I’m always okay,” He shakes off your question. 

You lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips, relishing in the feeling of his warm hand brushing over your cheek. You know this process is taking a toll on him too, but he takes being the rock in your relationship so seriously that you can almost barely tell. He’s been the voice of reason and positivity ever since things started to get harder and harder. He manages the worries of both of you, he keeps you calm and steady. 

“We’ll make an appointment,” Seonghwa agrees, “and then you’re right, let’s just live our lives a bit. If it happens, it happens. And whatever the doctor says, we’ll go from there.”

“And if there is something wrong?” Your murmur. 

“There’s a million ways,” Seonghwa repeats Yunho’s words, committed to them, holding them like a sure prayer. 

“A million ways,” You repeat softly, nodding. 

You’re doing your best, and so are they. Almost a year of this stress fundamentally changing so many aspects of your relationship, parts of it are almost unrecognizable. You’re caught with a foot in two lives, missing the way it used to be but desperately aching for something more. You have to keep telling yourself that it’s a test, that’s all this is. Nothing can be so easy that everything always and forever falls into place. 

*****

“I miss coffee,” You sigh, propping your head up on the pillow behind you and looking down at Yunho. 

He smiles, lips curving up against the skin of your belly as he gives you featherlight kisses, lying between your open legs and smoothing his warm hands over your skin. He presses another kiss to your hip and then looks up at you, “I know, but she said it could help,” 

“That doesn’t mean I don’t miss it,” You nudge him with your knee and he chuckles. 

The doctor had told you a lot of things, an overwhelming amount of advice on how to increase your chances of getting pregnant before she would recommend putting you on any kind of formal fertility treatment. You and Seonghwa both turned out to both be perfectly healthy, not a risk factor in sight for why you are having this much trouble conceiving. It’s a relief, but it isn’t an explanation. Aside from limiting caffeine, you’ve quit drinking, started better regulating your diet and taking a whole host of targeted vitamins and natural remedies. You’ve spent the last month and a half plotting out your ovulation days, and while it isn’t the most romantic way to conceive, at this point it doesn’t matter. 

“Baby,” Yunho smiles, “as soon as you can have coffee again, I’ll buy you the fanciest espresso machine. You’ll have all the coffee you want,” 

“Mm,” You reach for him, “promise?” 

“Promise,” He nods, kissing you again. 

“You think it’ll work this time?” You squeeze his hand. 

Yunho sighs and squeezes you back, “I think it might,” he murmurs, “we know a lot more than we knew three months ago,” 

“True,” You grin, “I didn’t know there could be so much to it,” 

“Mm,” He nods, “but you’re feeling good? Stressed?” 

Of course the thing Yunho heard at the doctor’s office louder than anything else was to limit stress. It made conceiving harder, and the early days after conception riskier. Ever since he’s been following you around with his every spare second, attempting to keep every tiny moment stress free. 

“Yunho,” You assure him, “I’m just fine,” 

“Sure?” 

“Honestly, I’m weirdly zen about this whole thing,” You admit to him, “I feel really good about this time,” 

He smiles, opening his mouth to say something but his phone rings next to you both and he reaches for it to cut off the sudden harsh sound. Seonghwa’s picture lights up his cell, and he slides his thumb across the screen, “Hi, yeobo,” 

You can’t quite make out Seonghwa’s side of the conversation, but you can hear the intonation of his voice, and you smile at the sound of it. 

“Yeah, she’s here,” Yunho says, looking up at you from his relaxed position, “mhm, yeah,” 

You tap Yunho’s arm and get his attention, “He’s on his way?” you mouth to him quietly. 

Yunho nods and then turns his attention back to his husband’s words. He smiles, “I’ll keep her company until you get here. Did you want to talk to her?” 

You reach out your hand eagerly, wanting to hear Seonghwa’s voice and Yunho nods, passing the phone over to you. 

“Hwa?” 

“Hi, my love,” He says, his voice warm and lovely, “I’m on my way home,” 

“I know,” You murmur, watching as Yunho starts fiddling with the fingers of your free hand, “we’re not in a rush or anything, take your time.” 

“And you feel okay?” He asks. 

“You both need to stop worrying,” You chuckle into the phone, “I feel good, positive,” 

“Me too,” He murmurs. 

It makes your heart warm, after all the months of struggling, this month you were approaching things differently. You’ve made a pact with them, to be hopeful and to not let any of the long term anxieties trickle in. The doctor had given you all the right assurances to help calm your minds, and you had been doing all the right things. 

“Seonghwa,” You murmur, your thumb rubbing soft circles into Yunho’s palm as you talk to your other husband, “I love you so much,” 

There’s a pause, but you hear his soft exhale, “Me too, I love you so much, darling,” 

“I can’t wait for you to come home,” You admit to him, “I just know this is it,” 

“Twenty minutes,” He says, “I’m on my way,” 

“Okay,” 

“Can you give the phone back to Yunho a minute?” Seonghwa asks softly. 

“Mhm, I’ll see you soon,” You tell him, and reach the phone back out to Yunho. 

“Hey,” Yunho says as he takes the call back. 

You watch him listen, and then smile, throwing a quick glance at you. His hand tightens on your hip just a little, giving you a comforting squeeze, and then he says, “Of course, I can,” another beat passes, “Alright, I love you too,” 

Once Yunho drops the phone he pushes himself back up onto his knees and slides over to your side, wrapping an arm around you and drawing you up onto his chest. 

“Hey,” You laugh, letting him pull your body into the position he wants against his chest. 

“Come here,” He squeezes you, “let me hold you a bit,” 

Smiling against his shoulder you shake your head, “Did Hwa tell you to distract me or something?” 

“No,” He answers quickly, “not exactly,” 

“God,” You laugh, “you’re both going to be the most attentive fathers, we’re going to have to have more than one kid,” 

Yunho’s hand pauses on your back and he gives you another squeeze, “Yeah?” 

“Oh yeah,” You kiss his chest, “all that attention on just one baby? You’ll spoil them so rotten,” 

Yunho cups your cheek, drawing your eyes up and he studies your expression. He looks like he has something to say, but he’s debating, so you prod him a little to get him to give it up, whatever it is that he’s thinking. He strokes your cheek, “This is the first time you’ve talked about it since we started trying,” 

“Kids?” Your brow furrows, “We talk about it constantly,” 

“No,” He shakes his head, “we talk about getting pregnant constantly. We haven’t talked about kids, our kids, in… I don’t know, yeobo, it’s just… god it’s nice to hear,” 

He’s right, you realize it instantly. You haven’t taken a moment to imagine it in a long time. The way you want your baby to have Seonghwa’s eyes and good head of hair, the way you always used to imagine your next child with Yunho having the perfect curve of his cupid’s bow. You used to fantasize about it all the time, a clear image of your husbands reading a storybook aloud with different voices for all the characters to make your babies laugh. Seonghwa fixing breakfast, Yunho grilling them meat for dinner. Painting their bedroom ceiling a starry sky, little lights in the night to hold them safe. 

“I didn’t realize,” You admit, smoothing your hand over his chest, “I guess I was so afraid it might not happen,” 

“And now?” You haven’t seen him look so truly hopeful in months. 

“I realized you’re right,” You smile, “if it doesn’t work one way it will work another way. I’m not scared anymore,” 

He smiles, his brown eyes soft and warm. 

“I know it’ll happen,” You murmur to him, “as long as it’s the three of us, it’ll happen,” 

His eyes are shining when he pushes forwards and captures your lips, pulling you up to meet his mouth and bruising your mouth with his. When you met them, you had no idea. Date after failed date with men who were right for you on paper in every possible way, but you could never, ever make yourself care. When you saw them across the bar that night, something different stirred in you, something clicking into place. 

Yunho’s lips are warm, his tongue dipping into your mouth to catch against yours, and his hands suddenly feel everywhere, starving for you, aching. Your leg hitches up on his hip, drawing him closer and he slots himself back above you, his sweet, soft kisses from earlier are nowhere to be found now. His hands push up your sweater, like he’s desperate to find your skin, and you moan into his mouth. 

“I need you,” He chokes against you, tugging down your leggings with his free hand. 

“Y-Yunho,” You shudder, “slow down,” 

He shakes his head, leaving them half off and caught around your knees, and he shifts to tug the sweater off over your head instead. Blush ignites up your chest as he touches you, so much needier and frantic than you’ve felt from him in months, and you feel your body responding, a rush of wetness between your thighs. 

“You’re perfect,” He palms your breast, almost a little too roughly, pulling down the strap of your bra and kissing across your pink chest. You gasp as he tweaks your nipple between his fingers, your body already sensitive and on edge. Yunho shifts up between your knees, yanking your leggings down further, dragging your underwear with it, pushing your thighs open as wide as the fabric around your calves will allow. 

You’re lost in the feeling, his tongue drawing a stripe up your chest and his hot hands traveling everywhere, and it takes a second for you to realize that he’s pushed his own sweatpants down. At the first bump of his hard cock against your wet folds, you moan, your body arching up into him. When he starts to press down, finding your entrance, logic and reason flood back into you. 

“Yunho,” You push at his shoulders, “baby, wait,” 

He pulls back a little, but his hips shift forward still. 

“Baby, stop,” Your voice is firmer now, and he stills completely. 

“Fuck,” His hips shift back, drawing his cock away from your core, “I’m sorry, god, I don’t know what got into me,” 

“It’s fine,” You shake your head, kissing him again and smoothing your hands up and down his back, “we don’t have to stop, we just can’t,” 

“I know,” He relaxes again, and this time the stiff line of his cock simply nestles between your wet folds, pressing the underside of his shaft firmly along your clit and he smiles when you shiver beneath him. He smooths the hair back from your face, “I fucking miss being inside you though,” 

Despite Seonghwa’s protests at the beginning of it all, you and Yunho had made an agreement. Your first baby would be Seonghwa’s, and if you were only ever blessed with one, Yunho wanted his husband to be happy more than he needed a baby with his genes. 

“I miss you too,” You sigh, “so much.” You roll your hips, dragging your clit along his shaft to chase a delicious pulse of pleasure, and you watch as his face falls, his hands tight on you again. 

“If you keep doing that it’s going to make it really hard not to fuck you,” He groans, “it’s been months,” 

It wasn’t for lack of trying other things though - he’d had you every other way imaginable since you stopped taking birth control, but your body still clenches at the thought. Smiling up at him you cup his cheek, running the pad of your thumb over his plush bottom lip and roll your hips again, “How would you fuck me?” 

He swallows hard, his resolve crumbling and his eyes flick down to the necklace around your throat, “You really want to know?” 

You haven’t heard that low voice in ages, so long since you’ve dipped into a scene with either of them. They’ve spent months being tender and careful with you, too cautious to really engage in the more intense dynamics you were used to. At the sound of his dominant tone slipping through, you whimper, nodding up at him. 

Yunho drops low over you, his thick length pressing against your core more firmly and his arms caging you in. He nips at your lip and then drops slow kisses down your jaw, “You want to know what I’d do to you, baby?” 

“Please,” You let your eyes slip closed. 

He rocks his hips to give you a single stroke of friction on your clit and you gasp, warmth bubbling in your belly already. His teeth catch your earlobe and pull gently before he says, “Mm, you don’t sound like you really want to know,” 

“I do,” You moan, your head falling back as he pumps his hips once more, “fuck, please, Yunho, tell me,” 

“That’s better,” He praises softly, kissing along your throat. 

You make a soft moan, your hips canting up once to drag your clit along his shaft again, and you can feel just how wet and slick you are as you try to catch better friction. 

“I’d fold my pretty girl open,” Yunho says, his hand running a firm line over your exposed breast and down to your waist, “and I’d stuff her perfect, pink pussy full,” 

“Fuck,” Your nails dig into his arm, “Yunho, oh my god,” 

“You’re so wet, puppy,” He murmurs, rocking his hips again, “do you miss coming on my cock that badly?” 

You moan again, choked and desperate, your mind spinning at the sudden change in heat between you and you think for a split second if he keeps talking to you like this you might come just from the sound of his voice alone. 

“I asked you a question,” His words rocket you back into the moment, “are you too desperate to answer?” 

“Yes,” You rock your hips again, rolling them now at a slow and steady pace to maintain the bubbling feeling of pleasure. 

“Yes, you’re too desperate?” He teases, rising up above you so that you have to meet his eyes. 

“Yes, I miss your cock,” You whine. 

“What about it, pup?” He prompts you, a firm push on your cheek to bring your face back to center, “Come on,” 

“Yes, yes, I miss coming on your cock,” You manage, dizzy and hot all over. 

He pauses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and when the next words roll of his tongue you nearly come on the spot, “Say it right, babygirl,” 

“Oh, fuck,” You shudder, and he takes over for you, working his hips a little faster so that his cock slips back and forth between your slick folds at the pace you need. Pleasure sparks from your core to your chest and you let your head fall back as you give him what he needs, “Yes, Daddy,” 

He groans at your words, “Louder,” 

“Yes, Daddy, I miss coming on your cock,” You moan, holding him closer, “god, Yunho, I’m, fuck, I’m gonna come,” 

“Yes, you are pretty girl,” He pants. 

The sound of keys dropping onto the dresser by the door shocks you both, and Yunho stills, a gasp bubbles from your lips at the noise and the sudden lack of steady stroking on your swollen bud and you whine softly under him. 

“Shh,” Yunho soothes you, “hold on, baby,” 

Seonghwa appears in your periphery, handsome as ever, and he unfastens the top two buttons of his shirt, his eyes hungry and dark already at the sight of you both. With a half smile on his lips, his eyes raking over your tangled bodies, you know which Seonghwa you’re getting. “You two look like complete messes,” He says, slipping off his jacket and laying on top of the dresser. 

Your body is trembling, you had been so, so close to your orgasm and the sudden pull back of sensation has you feeling absolutely raw. Your hips twitch slightly under Yunho and he exhales tightly, giving you a look. 

Yunho clears his throat softly and twists his torso so that he can better see his husband, still not making any moves to pull off you, “Hey,” 

Seonghwa grins, softly biting his lip, and you watch as he takes the decorative chair from the corner and drags it along the carpet until it’s next to the bed. You watch as Yunho’s lips part, and you feel his cock twitch between your thighs. 

“My beautiful, beautiful wife,” Seonghwa smiles, leaning forwards with his elbows resting on his splayed knees, “is Yunho making you feel good?” 

You haven’t heard this voice in ages either, and your butterflies churn in your belly. You nod, your eyes locked on Seonghwa. 

“Is he taking good care of you?” He asks. 

“Mhm,” You sigh, “so good,” 

“My love,” Seonghwa says, turning his eyes to Yunho, “you couldn’t wait?” 

Yunho can’t answer, simply shaking his head. 

“Good,” Seonghwa sits back in the chair, “don’t let me interrupt,” 

“This isn’t really what we should be doing right now,” Yunho says, his voice still a little breathy. 

“This is exactly what we should be doing,” Seonghwa shakes his head, “besides, our girl deserves our attention doesn’t she?” 

Yunho’s hips shift forwards unconsciously, just a little, but the press forwards onto your clit has your breath caught in your throat and Seonghwa’s eyes shift to yours. He smiles, nodding at your little sound of pleasure, “It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” 

“Hwa, please,” You feel like your entire body is trembling now, anticipation and adrenaline flooding through you. 

“Alright, darling,” He soothes you, but his voice is still firm and controlled. He looks to Yunho and nods, “Make her come, I want to watch,” 

“Fuck, yes,” Yunho drops down over you again, his hips pumping again, and he slips a hand under your backside to palm the soft swell of your ass and tilt your body into a better position. 

The sudden fast drag of his skin over yours rips a choked moan from your lips and you grip down on Yunho’s shoulder, your other hand fisting into the bed sheets at your side, “Yunho, baby,”

“Tell me you missed me,” He threads his hand into your hair, softly tugging your head back and you arch beneath him, pushing your hips against his harder and harder. 

���Ah,” You whine, “ah, fuck, baby I missed you so much,” 

“You want to come don’t you?” He keeps thrusting up between your folds, dragging over you at the most perfect rhythm and you can barely breathe, rocketing back towards your orgasm at what feels like a blinding pace. 

“Yes, god, yes,” You feel like you could cry the pleasure is so heady, your body missing this dynamic so much more than you even realized, and he isn’t even inside you.  

“Then come, pretty girl,” he tweaks your nipple again, drawing you up faster, “I know you can,” 

Your head tips back into the pillows, your body locking up with pleasure, hot with blush and inches from the edge. Yunho sucks in a sharp breath and when you open your eyes again you see Seonghwa shifting onto the bed behind him. He pulls your leggings the rest of the way off your body and Yunho shifts, dropping his hand over your clit to replace his cock and circle it quickly, dipping you backwards into your pleasure again so you don’t lose the orgasm once more. 

“Harder, harder,” You choke, “I’m c-close,” 

His fingers bear down a little more, and with a sudden hot rush you fall apart in his hands, body shaking and vibrating with sharp shocks across your spine. Yunho’s fingers lift, and his cock slots back down against your core. Your eyes snap open when you hear Yunho let out a tight moan, and you’re still trembling when you watch Seonghwa toss the bottle of lubricant from your nightstand onto the bed. He’s pressed up against his husband’s back, one arm reaching around to run along his chest and the other hidden out of your view, but from the blown out look on Yunho’s face you know exactly what he’s doing. 

Seonghwa sidles close to Yunho’s ear, and at the shift of his arm and Yunho’s sudden pant you imagine he’s pushing a finger, maybe two, inside him. “You look so fucking perfect,” Seonghwa says low in his ear. 

“Jesus,” Yunho falters forward a little above you, and Seonghwa sticks to him like glue, “fuck, Hwa,” 

“y/n, jagi,” Seonghwa says, and you meet his gaze over Yunho’s shoulder, “give me your hand,” 

You reach out, and Seonghwa takes his hand off Yunho’s chest to cup yours, drawing it down between your legs and settling it on Yunho’s aching cock. You wait on baited breath for instruction, your eyes darting between them, and Seonghwa wraps your hand around his cock and starts to draw your hand up and down. 

“God,” Yunho’s head drops, his hand fisting into the sheets by your side. 

You shift your hips away so that you can properly work his cock, and once you take over the rhythm, Seonghwa lifts his hand away so that he can return his fingers to Yunho’s chest, ghosting over his skin and coming dangerously close to his nipples. 

“F-fuck,” He chokes, “you two are going to be the death of me,” 

“You love us,” Seonghwa teases him, flicking his nipple sharply. 

Yunho’s hips jerk, pushing himself into your fist and you smile up at him. “You want to come, baby?” 

“Mm,” He manages, his eyes closing as Seonghwa closes his lips over his shoulder. 

“That’s it,” Seonghwa murmurs, and then the tone shifts, his hand pumping his fingers faster and you see the moment that he reaches the right spot inside Yunho. 

His mouth drops open, his muscles tensing, “I’m,” he shudders above you, “fuck, I’m,” 

“Baby, look at me,” You work your hand faster, ignoring the awkward angle and the burn of your muscles as you pump him harder, “look at me,” 

His eyes flash open. 

“Come, on me please,” With your free hand you coast it up the length of your body, slipping up from your stomach to your chest, palming your breast, “please, baby, I need it,” 

His hand grips your waist and you cover it with yours, holding him to you, your pace over his slick cock never faltering. 

“Right there?” Seonghwa murmurs in Yunho’s ear, knowing that he’s hitting the right spot inside him, earning a staggered groan. Seonghwa sighs pleasantly, “Right there, I got you baby,” 

He comes suddenly, releasing across your belly and breasts in thick, warm ropes and he shakes his head when your hand slows, “No, no,” 

You match your previous pace, pumping him fast and hard and drawing out every ounce of his release until he collapses a little more, pushing your hand away and reaching back to still Seonghwa’s motions. His chest is heaving, pink blush from his chest to his cheeks. 

“I love you so much,” Seonghwa murmurs softly, pressing a tender kiss to Yunho’s shoulder and another to his hair. 

It takes him a moment, but eventually Yunho’s eyes reopen and he pushes back up to a sitting position, twisting around to catch Seonghwa’s mouth. He murmurs his reply, a hushed, dazed confession of his own. You will never, ever get tired of watching them like this. They both sit back on their heels, Seonghwa wrapping his arms around Yunho and leaning his cheek on his shoulder. 

You move quietly, pulling your legs back and gingerly rolling off the side of the bed, but as the weight of the bed changes both their eyes open, searching for you. 

“Are you alright?” Seonghwa leans back a bit to see you. 

“Mhm,” You nod, “relax I’ll just be a sec,” 

You silently slip into the bathroom and take the time to clean yourself up. You take care of things with a damp washcloth, and then catch sight of yourself in the mirror. Your hair is a mess, and your makeup is smudged under your eyes. You clean your face off completely with a wipe, splashing cool water over your still warm cheeks, and brush through hair until it’s smooth again. 

When you open the door to the bedroom, they’re still wrapped tightly around each other, sitting relaxed in the center of the bed. You kneel on the mattress and shift towards them, “Let me in,” you murmur as you make it to them. 

They draw you in against their chests with ease, cuddling you close and pressing kisses against your skin. Seonghwa nuzzles your cheek and sighs, “Sometimes I think I’m the luckiest man,” 

“Same,” Yunho smiles, dipping down to kiss his husband’s cheek. 

“I missed this,” You sigh, held between them. 

“Mm,” Seonghwa chuckles, palming your hip and squeezing you a little possessively, “What got into you both? I feel like I just hung up the phone,” 

Your eyes crack open and you grin at Yunho, “All I did was start to talk about babies and he jumped me,” 

“Really?” Seonghwa all but purrs, quirking a brow at Yunho. 

Yunho doesn’t answer right away, and then you register a few things at once. Seonghwa is hard against your back, Yunho’s hand on your inner thigh is coming dangerously close to your center again, and your foam angled pillow is resting at the foot of the bed where it wasn’t a few minutes ago. You feel your body start responding again with ease, goosebumps erupting over your flesh and nipples pebbling. 

“I think,” Seonghwa brushes his fingers over Yunho’s chest, “he might like the idea of getting you pregnant,” 

Yunho’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his eyes flicking down your naked body. 

“Yeah?” You breathe. 

“Mhm, but he’ll just have to wait his turn,” Seonghwa pushes Yunho’s hand away from your thighs.

Your head snaps to the side, and Seonghwa kisses you sweetly before pushing you back onto the mattress. Yunho smiles at your confusion and settles down on his side, stretching long next to you. 

Seonghwa finishes pulling off his dress shirt and unclasps his belt, and your body starts buzzing once again. When he finally eases back onto the bed he moves between your knees, “He likes the idea,” he says, “but so do I,” 

“H-Hwa,” Your voice cracks when he squeezes your thighs hard in his hands. 

“We’ve been trying for so long,” He opens your legs, “but I haven’t been honest about what I want,” 

Your breath is coming in short staccatoed pants, and your voice is trapped in your throat, unable to even ask what he means or where things are suddenly going. It was supposed to just be another night of maximizing the fact that you’re ovulating and then sitting with your hips up for fifteen minutes to hope gravity might help things move along, but so far that’s not at all where things are headed. 

“Tell her,” Yunho prompts when he sees you unable to answer. 

“I haven’t had you the way I want in months,” He hooks his hands behind your knees, “I haven’t heard your pretty moans, and I miss the way you beg, darling,” 

“Oh, god,” You breathe. 

“But most of all,” he tips your legs back with a push of his hands, his gaze intense with heat, “I want to fuck you so full of my cum you can barely keep it inside, I want you to fuck you until you can’t take any more, until you can’t help but get pregnant,” 

“W-wait,” You’re shaking under his hands, feeling spread and exposed and raw, “baby, I,” 

He stills, his voice still firm but checking in all the same, “Love?” 

“I… I don’t,” 

Seonghwa shakes his head and interrupts, “y/n,” his voice is softens a little, “I’ve missed you, and I want you, but if this is too much right now or if I’m hurting you, tell me now,” 

Another night his words might have caused you stress, might have filled you with feelings of grief or shame, but not tonight. Something deep inside you knows, every tiny sign your body has given you over the last week to tell you that this is it. And where you were so focused on the end result for so long, tonight all you can think about is his cock filling you to the brim. 

He holds your gaze, and he waits, but he sighs with relief when you nod, “Take me,” 

“That’s our girl,” Yunho kisses your shoulder. 

Seonghwa folds you open, your knees back so far they’re touching the mattress and he bites his lip as he looks over your glistening folds, “Darling,” he says, his voice shifting back, “tell me what you want,” 

You’re trembling now, the ground you’re on feeling uncertain, unfamiliar, and you look to Yunho. 

He smiles at you warmly, cupping your cheek, “Why do you look so shy, baby?” 

“I don’t know,” You manage, “this is new,” 

He shifts closer, his skin pressing along yours, “Maybe I can help,” 

You nod, and he cranes forward to kiss you. He presses your mouth open, tongue flicking along yours, and when you feel a soft press against your clit you whine. Yunho breaks away from our mouth and nods with his forehead against yours, “Our pretty girl wants a baby, but she’s too shy to ask, my love,” 

“Is that what she wants?” Seonghwa asks, feigning disbelief with a wry smile on his lips. 

“Don’t make her wait,” Yunho says softly. 

Seonghwa shifts forwards, and then you feel him, the sudden push of his hard cock stretching you open, dipping so deep inside you in this position that you shudder under him. 

“Come on,” Seonghwa sinks fully down so that your hips are pressed together, “beg,” 

That voice you know well, and you respond perfectly like a reflex, “Please, sir, please,” 

“Please sir, what?” He grinds down and you groan. 

“Please sir, get me pregnant,” You finally get the words out, and when you finally do Seonghwa’s hands tighten on your hips. 

“Fuck,” He breathes, “again,” 

With your eyes locked on his, everything else falls away. Nothing exists now but the feeling of him buried inside you, the desperate wanting in his eyes, and Yunho’s warm hand stretched over your stomach. All of a sudden it all feels like it should. The words come easily now, “Seonghwa,” you reach for him and rest your hand along his cheek, “get me pregnant,” 

You see the moment in his eyes he loses all sense of control, the idea of tonight clouding his thoughts so thoroughly that all he can do is focus on fucking you. He drops down over you fully, his head buried in your neck and his lips on your shoulder. He lets the rest of his body drop too, his hands slipping down to the mattress, but the weight of him on top of you and your bent position just pushes you into a deeper press, driving his cock in more and more. 

Yunho’s hand is still warmly over your stomach, trapped between you now as Seonghwa’s body pins it down and you feel his fingers flex. 

Seonghwa kisses your shoulder, your neck, choking with need and pulsing inside you, “Our baby wants a baby?” 

Your muscles clench around his cock in response and he groans. 

He rolls his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your wet core and he makes a soft, needy sound against your throat, “Oh you do, don’t you? My perfect girl,” 

His hips start up again and you moan, your head dropping to the side fully to let Seonghwa suck on your pulse points. As your eyes flutter open and meet Yunho’s, you realize he’s slid a little closer. 

“Our husband,” Yunho says, “is going to give you what you want,” He presses down with his hand over your lower abdomen and you whine at the sensation, “right here, sweetheart,” 

“Oh fuck,” You jerk beneath Seonghwa, but in the position you can’t really move. 

Seonghwa pumps his hips faster, his hot breath on your ear, “Tell me you want it,” 

You’re losing yourself to the sensation now, and you nod, frantic, “I want it,” 

“Tell me you need it,” Seonghwa groans. 

“I need it,” You whine, “please, god, please,” 

“I’ll fuck a baby into you,” Seonghwa bites down on your shoulder, “you’ll take it,” 

Hot need and waves of pleasure ripple through you, warm heat flooding up your spine and spreading a blush over your chest and cheeks. All you can think about is how you will, how you have to. With a choked moan you grip down on his shoulders, “Yes, fuck,” 

“Fill her up, baby,” Yunho’s voice is low and husky, and you know he’s probably hard and ready all over again. 

“Yes, yes,” Seonghwa pants, shifting above you fast and pressing his lips to yours. 

You moan into the kiss, now nothing but hot panting between you and Seonghwa’s slick forehead pressing against yours. He’s so close, you can feel it, and so are you - your walls pulsing around him with every hard thrust. You grip down on his shoulders and nod against him, “F-fill me up, Hwa, please come inside me,” 

He shudders, groaning and with one hard snap of his hips he thrusts in as deeply as your body will allow a sudden warm rush pooling in your belly. He grinds his hips into you as he comes, his fingers tight on your soft skin, and the sudden sharp spark of pleasure that rushes to your core tips you right over the edge into your own orgasm. 

“Oh, god,” You whine, your head falling back as you let it wash over you. 

“Perfect,” Yunho sighs next to you, his fingers soft on your scalp, “take it all, sweetheart,” 

“Fuck,” Seonghwa pants against your throat, “I can feel you,” 

The rolling wave of your release crests and recedes, and as your mind starts to clear all you can feel is their skin on yours and your mind thrums, echoes of their words inside you, the promise of this time leaving you boneless and sated. 

Seonghwa’s shaking as he recovers from his own orgasm, still slick with sweat and breathing heavily against you. When he finally pushes up and off you, your body starts to uncurl from its bent position and you hiss at the sudden ache through your hips. 

“Hey,” Seonghwa soothes, slowing down his movements immediately so he can find your eyes, “did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head, “No, no, I’m okay,”

  “Yunho,” Seonghwa looks up and smiles when he sees his husband already grabbing the foam pillow from the end of the bed, “perfect,” 

Yunho tucks it under your lower back, and with slow movements Seonghwa drops you down on the pillow and comes to your side. Yunho starts to softly massage your aching muscles and looks down at you, “This okay?” 

“Mhm,” You sigh, smiling at him. 

Seonghwa’s hands drop to your opposite hip and thigh and he starts to work his hands in time with Yunho before he says, “I know the doctor said this is kind of an old wives tale,” referring to the elevation of your hips, “but it can’t hurt,” 

“Yeah,” You agree, “and it feels nice,” 

“Good,” Seonghwa murmurs, smoothing a hand over your hip, “just relax,” 

You almost forgot how much you love the way they care for you after an intense scene or even just a rougher moment in bed. Your sex life with them had changed so much over the past year to be so focused on the mere idea of conception, and your body has been so full of stress and anxiety. Formal scenes or even just passionate sex had fallen by the wayside, and tears bubble up inside you at the realization, a sudden overwhelming emotional current taking you in. 

“Baby, what, what’s wrong?” Yunho registers the change in your demeanor easily and cups your cheek. 

“Nothing,” You sigh before sniffing back the tears and smiling, “honestly, I just missed you both so fucking much,” 

Yunho grins, dropping to your side so he can once again lay lengthwise next to you, and kisses you soundly, “Yeah?” 

“Mm,” You murmur against his mouth, “let’s not let ourselves get that lost again, okay?” 

Yunho nods, his thumb sweeping over your cheekbone. 

Seonghwa’s hand shifts forward over your skin and settles over your belly, softly stroking your skin here as he eases down on your opposite side. Yunho looks down, smiling at the sight before dropping his own hand over Seonghwa’s, their fingers slotting together over your warm belly. 

“I’m not pregnant yet,” You joke softly. 

“Mm, I don’t care,” Seonghwa sighs hot against your shoulder, his eyes glued to your body, “I can’t stop thinking about it,” 

You’re quiet for a moment, breathing slow and relaxed and letting the weight of their hands soak into you. Your hips are starting to lose their little aches now that you’re uncurled, and you nearly drift into sleep. You stay connected loosely to consciousness when you feel Seonghwa kissing your shoulder, curling closer to your body so he can stroke a line up from your stomach to your chest, his fingers deliberately soft and gentle. 

“You know,” He murmurs, nipping at your skin, “I think to make sure this time it takes, I might just have to keep you in this bed for a few days,” 

“Oh yeah?” Your eyes pop open and you look down at him. 

“I think I should keep you nice and full of my cum,” His voice is husky and hungry again already, “and keep you right here until we’re sure,” 

“Fuck,” You curse softly. 

Yunho’s hand tightens over your belly and you look to him, his lips parted and his cock standing hard again, the tip already red and leaking beads of precum. 

“Will you do that for us, darling?” Seonghwa shifts, kissing up the smooth column of your throat, “Will you be good and take my cum until you can’t take any more?” 

“My god, yes,” You whine, your body coming alive again. 

Yunho’s hips jerk on the bed beside you, his cock connecting with your thigh and he groans, wrapping a hand around his shaft to get a little relief. 

“Hwa,” You cup his cheek, bringing his face up to yours, “I’ll do whatever you want, you can have me anyway you want, but look,” 

Hwa’s eyes flick past your shoulder and catches sight of Yunho working his aching cock. 

“Yunho’s been so patient,” You murmur, “let’s help him come,” 

“So generous,” Seonghwa teases you, kissing you firmly before shifting over you and running his hand along Yunho’s chest. 

“Mm, no, it’s okay,” Yunho sighs, “keep taking care of her, I’m good,” 

“Baby,” Seonghwa shakes his head, “stop, just tell me where you want to come,” 

He hesitates, but only for a moment before he says, “Your mouth,” 

Seonghwa grins, his hands leaving you as he starts to reposition on the bed. 

You slide back a little to give them room, but Yunho’s hand closes around your wrist to stop you. “Where are you going?” He smiles. 

“You want Hwa,” 

“When have I ever not wanted you too, pretty girl?” He squeezes his hand, tugging you a little closer by your wrist but not hard enough to hurt. 

“Where do you want me?” 

“Right here,” Yunho smiles as he pulls you forward again, tapping his chin with his free hand, “I want to taste you both,” 

Your stomach flips at his words and you let him draw you forward, settling your body over him and bracing his hands on your hips. You brush his hair away from his forehead, carding your fingers through his dark curls and smile down at him, “Is this what you want?” 

His hands shift to your ass and he pulls you down a little further, “Get down here already,” 

You fall forward a little and brace yourself on the mattress above him, “Baby!”

“I’m not going to ask nicely again,” His teeth gently drag along your inner thigh and his fingers flex hard when he feels you jump in response. 

“God, you’re bossy today,” You tease him, but you love every second of it, so you drop a little lower and sigh when you feel his tongue part your folds. 

“Yunho?” Seonghwa’s voice comes from your side. 

“Hmm?” Yunho hums as he starts to gently roll his tongue over your clit, his eyes closed as he focuses on your pleasure. 

“Can I take care of you?” 

Yunho nods, and you feel his body shift around under you, relaxing with his legs open so Seonghwa can easily slot between them. You know the moment Seonghwa stops teasing Yunho and sinks his mouth down over his cock, Yunho grips you hard with his fingers and moans into your heat, his tongue stalling out as he lives inside his own pleasure for a few moments more. 

“Yunho,” You whine, rocking your hips just a little. 

His eyes flash open up at you and you can tell his smiling from the way his eyes crinkle up, “Needy,” 

“Mhm,” You sink your hand into his hair, rolling your hips again. 

Yunho’s voice catches and you hear the wet sound of Seongha’s mouth behind you, but Yunho holds his attention on you, “Stay still,” 

“Make me,” 

His eyes harden, and he doesn’t hesitate to push you up away from his face so he can better address his husband, “Hwa, a little help?” 

You hear Seonghwa take a sharp inhale and he lightly clears his throat, “What do you need?” 

Yunho smiles, and then reaches around you, trapping your hands together and wrenching you backwards a bit so that you have to arch your back to keep the position comfortable, “Do something with her, she’s being a brat,” 

Your eyes nearly roll back in your head and Seonghwa laughs. You hear him shuffle around you behind you for a moment, and then fabric closes around your wrists to bind them together. He taps your arm to prompt you, and Yunho’s hands leave you as you pull on the cloth restraint, testing its tightness so that Seonghwa can see your mobility and ensure the binds aren’t too tight. 

“You want a lesson, baby?” Seonghwa laughs again, his edge back again now that he knows what Yunho and you both want. 

“Yes, sir,” You nod frantically. 

Yunho’s hands return to your hips, settling you over his mouth again, and without hesitation Seonghwa tugs softly on the fabric lead that controls your wrists and your stability over Yunho. Seonghwa settles down between Yunho’s legs again, gently pulling on the lead again so that you have to arch further, your arms stretching out behind you a little painfully. He hums, content when he says, “Everytime you move, I’ll pull. If you stop counting for Yunho, I’ll pull. If you don’t beg when we ask, I’ll pull. Hell,” He tugs gently again and you hiss at the sensation, “if I feel like it, I’ll pull.” 

“Yes, sir,” You pant. 

“Good,” He says, and Yunho groans into your thigh so you know Seonghwa must be teasing him too, “now be a good slut and come on his face,” 

“Ah, fuck,” You choke, Yunho’s mouth attaching to your clit again as he sucks hard, almost painfully so. 

“Color,” Seonghwa says, his voice crisp and clean. 

“Green, sir,” You confirm with a nod, and you interlace your fingers to ground yourself a little. 

“Good girl,”

You hear the wet sound of Seonghwa’s mouth on Yunho’s prone cock again, feel the vibration from him groaning between your thighs, and you fight the urge to work your hips fast against him. Painful pleasure shoots up your spine as Yunho devours you, no longer tender but all his attention aimed on making you fall apart fast and hard. 

You almost forget that you’re supposed to count and what that means for you, so when Yunho’s hand cracks down over your ass cheek you sputter and jerk. Seonghwa tugs the lead and you remember yourself, “One!”

The lead stays steady. 

Yunho drags his tongue through your folds, pressing it up inside you and you shudder knowing he’s tasting his husband’s release, making a mess of himself between your legs. 

His hand descends again and you stay still this time, “Two,” 

Once more. “Three!”

The sting from the next three spanks has tears gathering in your eyes but you manage to stay put and count perfectly on each. When Yunho’s opposite hand shifts up from your thigh to your waist to hold you steady, you know everything’s about to get much more intense. You’re completely unprepared for the sting this time, it’s been so long since your last session like this, and the sound that breaks out of your lips is raw. You jerk your hips and Yunho sucks your clit again harshly, the bubble of sharp, hot pleasure running up your chest. 

You move, and you forget to count, and Seonghwa tugs, wrapping the lead around his hand to shorten it. You rock backwards, and Yunho’s broad hand on your waist steadies you just enough so that you can regain your bearings, but now the position is stretched and taut. Your arms are stretched long behind you, your back arching to accommodate the position, and your thighs start to burn from the effort of holding you steady. 

“Six!” You choke out, but you realize your mistake fast. Seonghwa tugs again and you whine, “Please, please, I’m sorry, seven!”

The lead relaxes the exact amount he had just taken up and you almost sob in relief. 

Seonghwa says nothing, normally he would be goading you or verbally directing you, they both would. This time they keep quiet and let you figure things out for yourself, Seonghwa’s mouth too busy working over Yunho’s cock. You make it to ten spanks before they give you any more relief, and you suspect it’s because Yunho himself is close to coming. 

Seonghwa chokes behind you, Yunho twitches beneath you, and with one shuddering moan you know he’s spilling himself down Seonghwa’s throat. His mouth only stills for a moment, but the moment his head clears he redoubles his efforts and he pulls your hips closer, burying his face into your wet cunt with fervor, your clit rocking steadily over his nose as he fucks you with his tongue. 

Seonghwa drops the lead, and the change in balance has you falter for just a moment, but Seonghwa’s hand connects between your shoulder blades and he keeps you steady. 

“Can’t you come?” His voice is hoarse. 

“I’m close,” You pant, still fighting the urge to participate like they know you want. 

Seonghwa settles behind you, reaching around to tweak a nipple between his fingers, “Then show us,” 

You whine softly, your head dropping back onto his shoulder, your orgasm rushing towards you but still just out of reach. 

Yunho shifts his hands, one splaying wide over your abdomen and the other gripping your hip. Seonghwa’s voice is low when he breathes against your ear, “Show us what a good slut you are, fuck his face,” 

You crumble, his words all the permission you need and you blink your eyes open and look down to Yunho. With an experimental roll you find exactly where everything feels best and then sink into your rhythm. Yunho moans into you, pressing up with his tongue and guiding your hips with his hand. 

“Does that feel good, jagiya?” Seonghwa nips at your ear. 

“I’m,” You shudder, “I need to come,” 

“No one’s stopping you,” Seonghwa squeezes you. 

You’re tired, exhausted from the tough position that they held you in, your thighs shaking as you hold yourself up and keep moving, but you need it now, so close on the razorwire of pleasure that you know you can’t stop. Blush heats your cheeks, tears bubble up, and the knot of release inside you tightens further still. 

“Please, please,” You beg, and their hands grip you harder. 

Yunho repositions his mouth, adding the rough pad of his tongue to the sensations you’re riding and it all comes apart. You moan and squirm, body twitching and rolling as you unravel into your release, and Seonghwa’s murmuring praises in your ear but all you can barely make sense of the words. Yunho’s tongue flicking across your clit shifts suddenly from pleasurable to painfully overstimulated and you jerk your hips back, leaning further into Seonghwa’s embrace. 

“Shh, shh,” He soothes you, tugging smoothly at the binds around your wrists so that you can release your arms, “settle down, baby, we got you,” 

You’re breathing heavily, shaky and weary, and with slow movements, Seonghwa lifts you off of Yunho and eases you down onto the bed. You’re suddenly warm, wrapped up between them and covered in blankets and Yunho’s fingertips on your jaw ease your eyes open. 

“Sweetheart,” He murmurs, “talk to us a minute,” 

“I’m good,” You sigh, a lazy, satisfied smile on your lips as you snuggle into them, “tired,” 

“You know you’re our beautiful girl, right?” Seonghwa spoons you, nuzzling into your shoulder and kissing your skin softly, “You know we love you?” 

Anytime they touch you like that, talk to you like that, or control you like that, it always ends this way. Seonghwa’s soft and kind assurances that despite the names or the degrees of punishment, you’re theirs and you’re loved. No matter how many times you play this way, they never let you forget that. 

“Mhm,” You nod sleepily, “I love you too,” 

“Are you hurting at all?” Yunho checks as you drop your forehead to his chest and let your eyes drift closed again. 

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head. 

“Should we let you sleep, pretty girl?” Seonghwa chuckles. 

All you can do is nod. You fall asleep to soft kisses, gentle stroking touches, and warm arms around you. You fall asleep more sated than you’ve been in months, and they drop into sleep right behind you. You sink into each other in the center of the wide mattress and you rest. 

In the morning you wake up tangled together, a mass of limbs and sleepy sighs. Seonghwa has clearly been awake a little longer than you, and he massages your skin, peppering kisses over your shoulders and back. Yunho snores softly and adjusts next to you. 

Seonghwa shifts behind you, slipping his hand between you and Yunho, and he kisses the hollow of your ear softly. 

“One more time,” He says, his voice low as he rolls you towards him, “please,” 

You nod, leaving your body pliant, letting him move you where he wants you. With ease he pushes you onto your side, and he slides behind your back between you and Yunho. He pushes up your leg to open up to him and you arch your back to position yourself a little better to take him again. 

His fingers slip through your folds, testing your wetness and finding you need a little stimulation before he can take you the way he wants. He wets two fingers in his mouth and then slides them over your clit, still a little swollen and sensitive from the night before. With slow, gentle circles he gets your body responding. 

“There we go,” He murmurs, “you want me too, don’t you?” 

He sounds hoarse and a little desperate and you nod again, your fingers gripping down on the sheets as a rolling rush of pleasure echoes up your body. He wets his fingers again, rocking them over your clit and dipping them inside again and again until you’re trembling and dripping for him, and then he repositions. In one smooth stroke he thrusts inside, and then he stills, gathering you close to his chest with a shaky sigh, his hand slipping over your stomach once more. 

“Hwa,” You murmur, your voice incredibly small. 

“Right here,” He murmurs, caressing your skin and kissing your temple, “god, you’ll be so beautiful for me, jagiya,” 

The purpose of the night comes back to you in a rush. You sigh and groan softly, “All for you.” You push your hips back into his. 

He thrusts slowly this time, taking his time with you and savoring the pulsing wet feeling around him, “I’ll come right here,”

You moan softly under him. 

“I’ll make you ours forever,” He pants, his hips moving a little faster. 

“Hwa,” You sigh, “please, please get me pregnant,” 

His breath catches, and his hand slides lower to cup your abdomen, “You could be already,” 

His words make your muscles twitch and clench around him and he sighs against your skin. You push back with your hips again, “Let’s make sure, don’t stop,” 

He shakes his head against yours, holding you to him as he thrusts, his fingers tightening when he gets closer and closer. 

“Please,” You murmur softly, “Don’t stop,” 

He spills himself inside you with a quiet moan, holding himself still and deep as he comes down from his hard release, and without saying a word he slips his hand between your legs to gently work you up to your own orgasm. He stays inside you all the while despite his softening cock, not wanting to risk losing a single drop, and it takes time before he feels comfortable enough to pull out.

The bed shifts behind you both, and gentle hands tuck you both in. You listen to the sound of your other husband making breakfast in the kitchen. Something feels like it’s shifted, both new and familiar. With your eyes closed you listen. Seonghwa’s steady breath, the clicking of dishes, the movement of the city outside on a bright spring morning. 

Soft music starts to play from the other room. Yunho hasn’t started his day with music in a long time, and you used to love waking up to the sound and his easy energy as he drew you both out of bed and into your mornings. You forgot it, easily eaten away by stress and worry and doubt. You let yourself listen a little longer, quietly willing this time to be the time, and though you’ve made the same silent plea before, this time everything feels different, feels possible. 

A month later, the news brings you all to tears - elation mixing with new anxieties tangled up with  joy and relief, such easy and sudden relief. You’ll need a bigger apartment, another room or maybe two. The shopping list you never let yourself make before comes easily now, and the hopes that you all kept quiet from each other spill out in a dizzy, excited rush. It’s not so hard to look forward now, so together, always together, you do.  💌 taglist - @x0cherrytattoo0x @just-here-to-read-01 @simeonswhore @rielleluvs @ourbabies-bts @mingkiyoo @belletiny @moonseonghwa @jwying @treasure-jackpot @thirstiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @seonghwaxtoothless @matzstars @lenireads @parkthothwa8 @halotopicecream @s10an @8tinytings @kiwibaekie @sunasleftball @tannie13 @camilacastro @phoenix-karma @atinymonbebestay @kpopslittles1ut @lucentchan @seobtak @billboard-singer @jlm92 @side-angel @createyour0wnworld @mywooyo @halesandy @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @sophxom @lydiairl @seokjins-condoms @yoongimingyuchan @y2keigo @kpoplover718 @heart-coiored @blckbianxious @oippang @atinytease @minkysmilk @becauseiloveyunho @asjkdk @stranger-thighs @kpoplover-19 @annaflwrs @nina-at-any-time @bloomingsann @rielleluvs @jjongguromi @asjkdk @nabis-dreamscape-world @twancingyunhao​ @riot-hellion​ @pyxieyxie @namsloverr​ @mixling-blog​ @kodzukein​ @hyukssunflower​ @yousaybieberisaybiersack​ @ateezreactionsandscenarios​ @plutoneu​ @17caratcakes​ @idjitscentral @daekcottoncos​ @sohnkiss​ @narrylilomylove​ @lilramennoodle​ @noonaishere​ @savluvschan​ @mingi-banana​ @miransfw​ @ayoo-bangtan​ @eve217 @blglmgk01​ @miriamxsworld​ @kirooz​

[chicgeekgirl89]

The Luck o’ the Irish

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand

Summary: St. Patrick's Day with a Kindergartener means only one thing: Leprechaun traps. And Carlos isn't thrilled with the results.

A/N: I teach K-5 music and St. Patrick's Day is BY FAR the biggest day of the year. They've been making traps all week long and I couldn't help but write a little something for the boys.

Read on AO3

Carlos stares at the monstrosity on his kitchen table. It’s an eyesore and it hurts him to even be in the same room with it. Maybe if he just…

He stands and walks closer, eyeing the offending object with his hands on his hips. He’s reaching out to try and adjust a couple things when he hears T.K. coming down the hall, causing him to whip around, hands held innocently behind his back.

“Okay, it took three books and the goodnight song, plus an extra monster check and a drink of water, but he’s down,” T.K. says as he rounds the corner. He spots Carlos and his eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Carlos says. “Nothing. I was just looking. Three books? It’s supposed to be one.”

“Well I had to bargain him down from six. He’s definitely your kid,” T.K. says with a smile as he starts making hot water for tea.

That their kid loves reading as much as Carlos does makes Carlos’ heart soft with happiness on a regular basis. It’s amazing to see pieces of yourself in the tiny human you’re raising. 

Unfortunately Carlos does not see a single piece of himself in the abomination that takes up a third of their table. He frowns down at it again, then sticks out a finger to swipe at some errant glue.

“Don’t touch that,” T.K.’s voice says behind him and Carlos can’t take it anymore.

“We can’t let him take this to school tomorrow.”

“Because…you want bring shame on our family by having our child to be the only one in his class that doesn’t have a trap to catch the leprechaun?”

“T.K., his teacher is going to take one look at this and think we’re terrible parents! It’s a disaster!” He looks down again at the pile of floppy, wet cardboard and paper. “Look at this ramp! It’s not even close to ADA compliant, it couldn’t bear the weight of a fly let alone a small mythical creature. He didn’t even cut straight lines or use any of the stickers I got him.”

Carlos points to the unopened packages of shamrock and gold star stickers that he’d purchased to adorn their child’s masterpiece. As it turns out, their kiddo isn’t interested in arts and crafts at all. He’d spent fifteen minutes on the thing, sticking some green paper to the outside of a box, and then emptying an entire bottle of glitter glue (Carlos’ reluctant compromise to having glitter in their house) at the bottom of a paper towel tube he’d haphazardly placed along the side. 

“Well first of all, I think it’s a slide, not a ramp, and considering that no creature, mythical or otherwise is going to be inside of it, I don’t think we need to have the safety inspector come out,” T.K. tells him. “And I’m sure his teacher has seen worse.”

“It looks like a five-year-old did it.”

“That’s because our son is a five-year-old,” T.K. tells him as if he’s a small child too. “This is what five-year-olds do.”

“Not me,” Carlos says defensively. “My school projects were masterpieces. Whatever this is, he gets it from you.”

“Are you saying you’re perfect and I’m a mess?”

“No, I’m saying I’m fastidious and you have a more carefree approach to life,” Carlos tells him. “What if I redo it and we tell him the leprechaun came early and helped fix it up?”

T.K. raises his eyebrows. “The leprechaun came to help build his own trap? I don’t think our kid is going to buy that one babe.” 

He’s right. Their child may not be a Picasso, but he definitely outsmarts them both on a regular basis. “Let me at least try and get some of the glitter glue out of it. It’s never going to dry.”

“I think that’s the point. The leprechaun goes down the slide and gets stuck in the glue.” T.K. takes a sip of tea, sending his husband an amused look over the rim of the cup.

“You’re enjoying this,” Carlos accuses. 

“A little.”

“It doesn’t bother you that our son is going to school with a subpar project?”

“Nope,” T.K. pops the ‘p’. “For three reasons. One, I know most of the other kids are going to have projects that look exactly like this. Two we always said we’d let our kiddo be his own person; clearly arts and crafts are not his thing right now and that’s okay, plus he’s very happy with how it turned out. Three, we promised that when we had kids we wouldn’t be those parents who do their kids’ work for them. It’s his project, not ours.”

Carlos deflates a little. “Those are very good reasons.”

“I know they are.” T.K. walks over and hooks a finger into the waistband of Carlos’ sweats, tugging him close. “And you do too. You’re just blinded by your perfectionism and need for aesthetically pleasing artwork.”

Carlos blows out a breath and tries to release all of the anxiety that’s pent up inside him. “You really don’t think his teacher is going to think we’re bad parents?”

“Babe you bought her like forty boxes of tissues and helped with the Halloween parade and the holiday party. Plus you freaking sewed costumes for the class play when you don’t even know how to sew. I think she likes us just fine.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” Carlos says, running his hand up and down T.K.’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you will be when our son is the first Kindergartener in the history of Maplewood Elementary School to catch a leprechaun,” T.K. teases, making Carlos chuckle. 

His laughter quickly melts away and turns to horror as the words sink in. “Oh god, what if he’s upset that he doesn’t catch one? How are we going to explain that to him?”

“Okay Papa, that’s enough stress for you tonight,” T.K. says with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s go to bed.”

“T.K. he’s already asking questions about Santa, what if he thinks we lied to him?”

“Carlos.”

“Maybe we should tell him in the morning. Be up front with him.”

“Carlos.”

“I don’t want him to think—“

He’s cut off when T.K. grabs his face with both hands, kisses him hard, then looks him directly in the eyes. “If you come to bed with me right now, I promise you will forget all about this.”

Words like that still make his stomach flip, even after all these years together, and he melts into T.K.’s touch. “Oh yeah?”

T.K.’s eyes glint with mischief. “Oh yeah. You, Carlos Strand-Reyes are about to get very, very lucky.”

[zealouscanonindeer]

This is a continuation of Holmes and Emily's adventures. This series will be narrated in Holmes and Emily's Pov. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

1. Ladies and letters

Sherlock Holmes:

"Really, Holmes," Watson chided, "She's half your age."

This was not entirely accurate - not that Watson paid excessive attention to facts in the sensationalised accounts that he sent to the Strand. Hyperbole, it seemed, was a writer's best friend.

"You're acting like I'm some lovesick suitor trying to win her over with charm and affection," I replied tartly, examining my nails with what I hoped was a sufficient air of indifference to the topic, "two qualities for which you know very well I am not famous. I believe you are simply imagining something that does not exist, and it's getting rather tiring. I would like for you to drop it." I was not in the mood to discuss the matter any further, for my ribs injured during a recent case had not yet entirely ceased to ache.

Said topic, of course, was a young lady of my acquaintance, one Miss Emily Cartwright, whom Watson seemed to think had quite turned my head. Of course, the very idea was absolute rot - the day that simple lust brought on by a pretty face overtakes the precision of my mind is the day that Watson leaves medicine once and for all and takes up professional dart-playing.

This is not, of course, to say that Miss Cartwright - or Emily, as she has insisted I call her - is an unattractive young woman. Though she generally wears her molasses-brown hair in a proper chignon or even a French twist, I have had occasion (though not on purpose) to see it loose, and the image has, strangely, stayed with me till now. Her build is slender and finely-boned, but woe betide anyone who thinks her overly delicate for it - this, of course, has included me. In addition, she has proven her intelligence more than once, possessing a level of rationality keener than is representative of her sex, and she never ceases to surprise me.

She also has managed to drive me up the wall more than once, for despite her keen mind she is also rather hot-tempered and capricious, and not the sort to give up without a fight, either physically or verbally. The last time I saw her, in fact, she still bore the fading marks of a split lip, testament to an encounter we'd had with a crooked deliveryman.

"Holmes, are you even listening to me?" Watson broke into my train of thought. In the course of my reflections I had managed to tune him out briefly, something which never ceases to annoy him.

"Yes," I replied, "And I think you're being silly."

"If I'm being so silly, why haven't you opened any of her letters?"

I allowed my gaze to briefly regard the small stack of unopened envelopes resting benignly on the corner of the mantel. There were five of them, addressed in her elegant script (Fountain pen, fine brass nib, black India ink, slightly smudged from the heel of her dominant left hand briefly resting on the wet ink) and sealed (teal green sealing wax - I could probably hunt down the vendor if I cared to do so - there were only three vendors that I knew of who sold this peculiar shade), with the topmost envelope (fine-quality paper with a medium cotton content) lightly scented (predominantly lilac, with perhaps a hint of jasmine). Why should I open them? I could determine practically everything from the sealed envelopes.

No – I must be honest. I could determine everything but a rational reason not to open them. They'd sat on the mantel (I thought it slightly obscene to impale them on the jack-knife along with the rest of my correspondence) with all the quiet menace of Pandora's Box, had the contents been sent through the post rather than bestowed by the gods for safekeeping.

"My mail is my business," I informed Watson, "And I shall open it whenever I wish."

Watson huffed a long-suffering sigh at me and, shaking his head in amused disbelief, opened his newspaper.

Finally, as a compromise, I resolved that if she wrote me a sixth letter, I would open all of them.

No sooner was the thought formed in my mind than Mrs Hudson came upstairs with the evening mail. It contained two letters, one from Inspector Lestrade - and one from Emily.

Blast it.

Emily Cartwright:

Where to begin?

I suppose I could begin by telling you my life story up to this point, and in fact I could even make it interesting, but I have found most habitual autobiographers to be rather egotistical, assuming that everyone wishes to know such an awful lot about them that they write it all down and have it bound in a ponderous volume that subsequently accomplishes little more than continually reaffirming the law of gravity until such time (I have yet to discover the exact interval, but between fifty and a hundred years sounds right) as it is declared a classic and force-fed to a whole generation of literature students.

So I shall simply adhere to more recent events, such as my current acquaintance with a certain Englishman who hails from the neighbourhood of Baker Street and who happens to be mildly famous.

Most people, on reflecting upon the character of Mr Sherlock Holmes, would describe him as arrogant, overbearing, and altogether too logical for his own good. His ways are rigid, they say, his manner is cold, and besides which quite unsociable toward most people. (Rumours abound, paradoxically, about the fact that he freely accepts as clients Those Women who work from street-corners and brothels.)

I have found him to be quite polite and well-mannered, if a bit reserved towards women. He can be rather abrupt at times, a trait which takes some getting used to, but once one is in his confidence he can be a fierce ally and a close friend (I am put in mind of the series of events which led to him attacking a very large man who was manhandling yours truly in a trouser role).

In terms of appearance he is no Adonis, with his angular build and avian profile, but he is handsome enough to put most people at ease (my father being a glaring exception, but he is another matter entirely), and his neutral (some would say stony) countenance makes a delightful puzzle of trying to figure out what is going on in that tidily ordered mind of his.

His best features, in my opinion, are his hands, with the slender fingers of an artist and the delicate touch of a surgeon. Granted, they are as often as not marked by burns and stains, but these are the calluses of his trade.

Most of all, what sets Holmes apart from most men I've met in London is the fact that he doesn't try to impress me with wealth (of which he has very little) or promises of pampering (which I wouldn't accept) or even simple doting affection (which would either make me quite ill or suspect that he was ill). He sets the rules and expects me to follow them - or rather, he *doesn't* expect me to be able to follow them, so he is surprised when I call his bluff. It has, I think, become a game between us - he pushes, and I push back. He forms certain expectations of my abilities, and I cheerfully defy them. It keeps things interesting - or it would if he weren't being so damned stubborn right now in not replying to my letters. I don't think he means anything by it, of course - one could accuse Sherlock Holmes of many things, but deliberate and wilful incivility is not one of them.

[cherrycola27]

SIREN'S SONG

Chapter 11: Rocketman

Paring: Rooster x OC Captain Harper Ann "Siren" Mitchell-Bradshaw

A/N: This chapter was inspired by the Elton John Classic "Rocketman" also special shout out to @marvelsvalhalla for listening to my ideas and helping me come up with the chapter title!

Warnings: Mentions of Ejection, injuries, cursing, drinking, self esteem issues, body insecurities. Jake "Hangman" Seresin... yes Hangman gets his own warning. 18+ Minors DNI

Babes I apologize in advance for this because it is going to hurt

0400 hours came early in the Bradshaw house hold that faithful morning. Harper rolled over as her husband left the bed to get in the shower. "Just a few more minutes please" She called out sleep thick in her voice. "Shhh baby go back to sleep." Rooster whispered kissing her head. "How can I sleep knowing you are leaving me?" Harper pouted. It was true, Bradley, her father and a few other members of the Dagger Squad had been called in for a quick mission. It was supposed to be three days max... get in get out, nothing serious, but there wouldnt be any contact for those three days. Harper protested when she was not chosen, but she knew now that she and Bradley were married there was a slim chance they would be sent out together. So here she sat in bed watching her husband get ready. She wanted to drive him to base, but she had been sick the past few days so Rooster told her no.

She got up and walked her husband to the door. He slipped his ring off and put it on Harper's dog tags. "Hold on to this for me. I will be back for it in three days... keep it safe." Rooster told her. He kissed his wife deeply and much to his chagrin, he left her on the front porch of their home. "I promise I will be back Harper Ann! I love you Mrs. Bradshaw!" He called before leaving the driveway. "I love you too Mr. Bradshaw" She called after him.

An hour later Penny was on her doorstep. Amelia was back in college and with Maverick gone, she couldn't bear the empty house, so the two women agreed to have a sleepover with each other until their husband's arrived. Penny had brought breakfast sandwiches from their local diner. Harper sat down ready to dig in when a wave of naeusa hit her.

She ran to the bathroom and puked her guts out. After that episode, she went to brush her teeth. As she went to grab a new tube of toothpaste Harper noticed an unopened box of tampons. Gears turned in her head. When was the last time she had a period? Could she be? She and Rooster hadn't exactly been trying to get pregnant, but they hadn't exactly been trying to prevent it either.

Harper dug through the medicine cabinet. She knew she had a couple leftover pregnancy tests from the time Phoenix came over when she was late. Harper found the box and quickly torr it open and read the directions. Five minutes later, there were four positive pregnancy tests in front of the woman. "Oh. My. God" she said to herself. "Penny! Harper yelled. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Yeah honey, everything oh..." Penny stopped short as she saw her daughter on the bathroom floor with the tests.

"I think I'm pregnant. Can you take me to the infirmary to make sure?" Harper whispered looking at her mother. "Let me get my things.. meet you in the car." Penny said not missing a beat and jumping into action.

Harper tapped her foot impatiently in the waiting room of the base infirmary. Penny squeezed her hand

"Captain Mitchell-Bradshaw?" A nurse called out. She and Penny practically jumped out of their seats. Harper explained to the nurse that she thought she might be pregnant but wanted a blood test to be sure. And after the blood test came back positive she begged for an ultrasound to be extra sure, and being the Admirals daughter, they didn't tell her no. Penny held her had the first time Harper saw Baby Bradshaw on the monitor. She was about 10 weeks which meant that this baby was Rooster birthday present that kept on giving.

A few hours later the women left base and headed back to Harper's house. "I can't wait for Bradley and dad to get back P, they are going to be so excited" Harper squealed holding her ultra sound pictures.

Over the next three days she and Penny talked about nursery themes and baby names. Harper and Bradley had spoken about children before and they had agreed on naming their kids after their parents, so if baby B was a boy, he would be Nicholas Peter Bradshaw and if baby B was a girl, Caroline Penelope Bradshaw. Penny cried over the fact that Harper thought enough of her to potentially name her child after her. The ladies were all smiles when they got word that the ship had docked and everyone would be home soon. Harper was in the kitchen when they heard a knock on the door. Penny went to answer it.

"Pete! You're home welcome back" She cried hugging her husband. "Is Bradley not with you?" She asked looking around him. That's when she was her husband's face and she knew something was wrong. "Wh... wh... where is Harper?" Maverick stammered.

"Dad! Oh I'm so glad you're back I have something exciting..." Harper stopped short "Dad, where's Rooster? Is he not with you? Is he running late" Harper said as panic set in. "Harper, honey, I think you should sit down Doll." Maverick said gesturing to the couch. "No, no, don't pull that shit with me dad.... where is my husband?" Harper said forcefully.

"Harper, there was an accident... Rooster... he... he's missing, but they are doing everything to find him, but we had to come back. I tried to go but they wouldn't let me." Maverick explained with tears in his eyes.

"What do you mean he is missing? How. How does a plane and a person go missing, you said this was a quick mission. Routine, in and out, not dangerous, nothing to worry about. And now you are telling me my husband is missing!" Harper screamed tears heavy in her eyes and rage in her voice. " You told me not to worry! You said everything would be okay! You promised me Maverick!" Harper shouted at her father. "Honey please calm down" he begged "Don't tell me what to do. How could you? How could you do this to him, to me. And you just left him. His plane gets shot down and you just left him. He didn't leave you 5 years ago!" She continued to rage "Harper I wasn't flying!" Maverick shouted back.

"Please calm down Harper, this stress isn't good for the baby!" Penny pleaded with her "Baby?" Maverick asked "Yeah, baby I'm pregnant congrats grandpa Asshole" Harper shot at her father. Maverick tried to hug his daughter to calm her down. She was shaking as sobs and anger wracked her body "Don't fucking touch me!" She shrieked trying to escape his embrace. "This is all your fault!" Harper screamed punching her father's chest. "You promised me he would be okay! You promised you would bring him back. I thought I could never be as mad as they day I found out you pulled his papers, but I was wrong. Hell I might be madder!" Harper raged as she hit her father. "This is all your fault. I hate you Maverick! I hate you! I hate you!"Harper sobbed as she sunk to the floor. Her words becoming unclear as she sobbed heavily.

Maverick didn't know what to do. As he held his daughter he felt like a kid again holding Carole when she found out Goose died. Maverick had spent his whole life trying to make up for that tragic day, but yet here he was holding another Bradshaw woman he carried about telling her that her child's father was gone.

Roosters head was pounding. He gingerly lifted his body from the forest floor. He did a once over of himself and determined nothing was broken but he probably had a concussion. His com was toast his plane was smashed to shit. He flipped open his tracker and sent a signal hoping the navy could find him. He took stock of his surroundings and determined he needed to make a camp. He knew they Navy would have an idea of where he was, so he determined it would be best not to leave the area. He sat down at the base of a tree and pulled his photo of Harper out of his pocket. "I promise I will be home baby" Rooster said talking to it

"Where are the others?" Harper asked her father when she was able to form a coherent sentence." On base.. they..." Harper cut him off "Take me to them... now." It wasn't a question. The father and daughter drove to base in silence. When they arrived Phoenix was the first person they saw "Were you his wingman?" Harper demanded of the woman. "No, no we were back on the carrier." Phoenix told her caught off guard by the tone of Harper's voice. "Who was?" Harper demanded. "H...h... hangman..." Phoenix stammered out. "Where is he?" Harper asked darkly. "Breifing room... but Si" Phoenix didn't get to finish before Harper pushed past her fuming. Phoenix ran after her calling her name, but Harper was a woman on a mission.

"SERESIN YOU MOTHER FUCKER!" Harper screamed entering the briefing room. Before he or anyone else could respond, Harper slapped him across the face... hard. When she pulled back the angry red print of her had was there on his stupid perfect Ken doll cheek. "Si, what the fuck" Jake said stunned. "How could you. How could you leave him" She screamed at Hangman. "I didn't leave him. He... he" Jake stammered not knowing how to speak to the raging woman infront of him. "Yes you did! You were his wingman! He trusted you! I trusted you! But I guess old habits die hard don't they HANGMAN" Harper screamed in his face. "Listen Siren I get it, we are all upset about Rooster being missing but you need to calm the fuck down!" Hangman shouted back at her still holding his cheek.

"Don't you dare tell me to fucking calm down asshole. You have no right. Got I could fucking kill you right now. I hate you so much Jake Seresin because YOU are the reason my child is going to have to grow up without a father you son of a bitch!" Harper screamed pointing her finger in Hangman's face as she breathed heavily. The entire room went silent. Jake stood there looking at Harper with a blank expression and his eyes wide. "You're... you're pregnant?" He whispered. Afraid if he spoke any louder he might shatter. "Does... does Rooster know?" He asked.

Harper couldn't do it anymore. She collapsed to the floor sobbing. Hangman caught her before she hit the ground. "No... no he doesn't know. I found out the day you left." She choked out between sobs. Hearing that, Hangman, the cocky, egotistical, full of himself pilot lost it too. He pulled Harper closer to his chest and sobbed with her.

The rest of the squad looked at each other unaware of what to do. Bob was the first to leave his spot and join Hangman and Harper with tears in his eyes. Phoenix and Fanboy followed, then Payback and Coyote. One by one the members of the Dagger Squad joined in on the group hug in the floor.

They were supposed to be the best of the best. The top 1%. The strongest. They didn't show weakness. But there in the floor of that navy briefing room, none of them had ever felt more powerless.

Hangman collected himself and looked at the woman again his chest. Harper was still sobbing. She was holding her stomach with one hand and her tags will Roosters wedding ring in the other. He knew that everything Harper had said was true. He was the reason Rooster was missing Rooster had saved him because he felt like he owed him his life. Jake pulled himself together and made Harper, Maverick, Goose, Carole, and Baby Bradshaw a silence promise that no matter what, he would bring Rooster home.

Babes. Im sorry

Tag List: @marvelsvalhalla @shanimallina87 @tallrock35 @aless-megs

[tommyspeakycap]

Can I request some chilly fluff? Anything really, just some cute sweet chilly fluff with a little bit of angst maybe?

of course! here's an idea that's been swimming around my brain all day lol

helping hand

ben isn't coping with his newest responsibility and his best friend comes to save the day once again

It's honestly less about the news than it is about the fact that you didn’t here it from him. Texts have gone mostly unanswered since you read that online article you first believed was false, only for it to be confirmed by him. You offered a congratulations despite the pain it brought to you to hear that you had completely lost your chance.

You had probably called him about a million times, each time ringing out and some even being hung up after merely a few rings.

At first, you worried that something had happened. Then you managed to wrangle the news out of Mason that everything was well, you let yourself have those days of utter heartbreak that he had found a girl, started to settle down and then completely cut you out of the picture. This was the first time in all of your 23 years that you hadn't been able to speak to him about things that were going on. He seemed to have completely fogotten about you and you couldn't bring yourself to think of a reason why.

She never really did like you, his girlfriend. You could only imagine it had something to do with the fact that Ben was incredibly close with you. A lot of girls had been unhappy with the fact that while dating Ben, they were subject to teasing that everyone was surprised he was dating when they had thought he was so clearly in love with you. You understand that, it would be irritating but nothing had ever happened between you and Ben that might suggest you would ever get together. People just love a rumour.

What had really hit you, however was seeing her from the Instagram you followed. She didn't even appear to be in London, never mind with him and that made no sense by the timeline you had managed to figure out.

That's how you found yourself standing at his door with what felt like a million bags and a feeling of hurt you had never actually had before. You cornered Mason, refusing to leave until he told you what the hell was going on and when he did, you were gone like a flash with a broken heart to seek out the man who needed you now more than he ever did.

Your heart shatters even more when you step into his house, pushing it open and pulling out the key he gave you a few months ago as you head carefully to the kitchen. You can hear him trying to talk, his voice strained and croaky as he attempts to speak over the sound of the screaming baby girl.

"Come on sweetheart," he begs, "Please take your bottle, I promise you're just tired."

His house is messier than you've ever seen it with gifts unopened, blankets and bottles, baby toys and clothes strewn around everywhere you could see.

You're quick and quiet to get to work clearing the place up, clean clothes being folded and sat in his clean laundry hamper while sorting the dirty things and shoving them into the washing machine by colour before tidying away all the blankets into the baby boxes he had set up in his front room. The infant upstairs screams the entire time you whiz around, throwing an entire bin bag worth of rubbish out of his kitchen before restocking all the shelves and his empty fridge with food for him and milk powder for the little girl. The pizza you shoved in the oven the second you arrived was finished after 15 minutes, so you plated that and left it on the kitchen island before you decided to make you presence known to him.

"Need a helping hand?"

His head whips around rapidly, instinctively tucking his daughter closer into his chest before he recognised your voice and turned his face back away from you. "You shouldn't be here, (y/n)." He mumbles, bouncing his legs to try and get that screeching to stop before he starts crying again himself.

How had everything ended up so messy? He found a girl that he thought he loved, he had his best friends and he had you. She got pregnant and he was ecstatic until she told him she wasn't interested in having a baby. It was too late to do anything about it, so she gave birth to that baby and legally signed over parental rights wholly and fully to a destroyed Ben. You, of course, had to find this out half from the tabloids and half from Mason. Ben was absolutely affronted. He was mortified. How had he gotten himself in this position?

You were the first and only person he wanted to tell. He was desperate to seek out your arms and have an absolute sob to you so you could help him fix this like you do with everything else, but he couldn't bring himself to face you. He cut you off slowly and carefully without even noticing himself because she had coaxed him into it. She played him like a fiddle, let him grow her platform and fund her lifestyle until she had everything she wanted from him and left him with something that was supposed to be theirs to love forever.

As if things couldn't get worse, from the moment he found out she was having a baby he had realised he didn't want kids or a life with anyone but you and now here he is, with a baby that has no mother and he had lost you. How could he just go back crying to you now after all the hurt he had caused you? What kind of person does that? He made this mess and it was his to clean up.

"Mason told me what happened. You can fight me all you want, Ben but I'm not going to go anywhere so you may as well just let me help." You say firmly, not inviting a single space for him to actually contest your words. His shoulder deflate even further than they already are as he finally turns to meet your eyes.

There's bags and dark circles beneath his with greasy, messy hair and a shirt he probably hadn't changed in longer than he should.

"I'm sorry." He croaks, clamping down on his lip with his teeth so he doesn't immediately burst out crying at the sight of you standing there in his house. God, he's missed you so much he couldn't even begin to put it into words and his emotions are so messed up from the lack of sleep that he'll cry at just about anything right now. "It's forgotten about. We don't have to talk about it, I'm here to help."

The weight that lifts off of Ben's shoulder is the kind of immense relief that only really you can bring to him, honestly. There are few people that he has ever met that can ease him like you can and knowing he doesn't have to explain this whole situation really is something he's so thankful for.

"This is Lilly," he says weakly, nodding his head down at her whining. You smile immediately and without thought, stepping forward to get a closer look at the small baby, only two weeks old and already giving her dad a run for his money. "Hello Lilly," you coo softly, raising your hand to stroke her cheek with your finger in the most gentle manner he's ever seen. "Can I? I feel like I've missed out on two weeks worth of aunt (y/n) cuddles."

He tries not to think much into the fact you refer to yourself as her aunt because if he lets enough thought onto it, he'll find himself breaking his heart over you all over again. Ben nods, passing her into your arms carefully.

"I'll feed her, I made some pizza for you so you should go eat." You hold our your hand to take the bottle from him, but he frowns. "I-" Ben stutters, "I don't want to just lump you with her, plus she's upset so I shouldn't leave her y'know? It's not fair on-"

"Go and eat Ben, and have a shower while you're at it. We'll be fine in here, I've babysat a million times before." You shrug, taking the bottle from him as you step further into the nursery instead of standing in the doorway cradling the still whimpering little girl in her pink onesie. "But I-"

"Go."

"I should-"

"Ben go, now."

Ben sighs in defeat and turns on his heel, the rumbling of his stomach finally giving him away as he realises just how hungry and smelly he actually is. No wonder the infant was crying in his hold.

He trudges downstairs, hearing the sounds of those winging dying down as he does, half expecting to walk into the messy swamp he had left when he went upstairs earlier this morning, only to see the whole bottom floor of the house was basically as spotless as it had been the day he moved in, bar the baby variety adjustments he had made to welcome the new arrival.

He makes a mental note to thank you more and do some grovelling and apologising later on. He knows he has to do it and he knows he'll explain in more detail what really happened probably later today, but for now he will scoff that pizza down his throat faster than he has ever consumed a meal in all of his life before raining the cupboards that he discovered you had stocked. He is reminded with every step he takes around his house that this is you, again, here holding him up when the world around him feels like its completely crumbled.

This is what you do, you keep him together, fix him up after the heartbreaks and breakups preparing him for the next girl who's pieces you'll have to pick up when they hurt him. This time he doesn't want another girl, he wants you. This time, the one time that he would be miles too late. He's got a baby now that he needs to focus on and he can't imagine that you're going to want an instant family even if you could really see past the fact he had ghosted you for nearly five straight months from the moment he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He can't forgive himself, so how on earth would you?

If he would ask, you would tell him you already had. Seeing how hurt he was, how genuinely sorry things had ended dup like this with everyone in his life he was was enough for you. It was enough to cause you actual physical pain. You never could hold a grudge considering the situation he had ended up in.

Ben had never ever once in his life being more thankful for his shower. He’s also pretty sure he fell asleep against the wall with the heat of the shower steam loosening his muscles and the fatigue of barely an hours sleep catching up to him. He towel dries off his hair, letting the towel hang around his neck as he rubs it against his head while he pads along the soft carpet of his hallway from the bedroom to his beautifully done pink nursery where he hears no crying, at all.

But he does here soft talking.

“Giving your daddy a hard time eh, pretty girl.” You hum softly, slowly swaying from side to side. She lays in your arms, looking up at you and stealing every bit of your heart with her daddies eyes. “He deserves it a little, you know. Just ‘cause he done me out of some adorable baby cuddles y’know?” Ben can hear the teasing smile on your lips as he leans against the doorframe out of your sight, keeping quiet so as not to be detected. “But he’s a good man, sweet girl. One of the best, actually. And i know he’s already such a good daddy to you, he loves you so so much. Do you know that, eh?” You say quietly. Ben catches the sight of you swaying that amazed little baby who coos up at you, reaching for your finger to hold. “Mhm, and i love you too. You have no idea how loved you are.” That’s one thing Ben can agree on.

“And you might not know it now because you’re little, but i do know one thing for absolute certain; I’m always gonna be here for you, and for your daddy even if he’s as stubborn about it as they come. You’ve got to help me out though, eh sweet girl? Be good to that daddy of yours. Yeah, sleepy baby? Mhm, my sweet girl.” The way you hum, bouncing her carefully and swaying in just the right way for her to fall asleep in your arms. Ben watches you for only a minute more, softly singing a little lullaby to her that makes Ben’s heart swell to ache so much that he has to take a small little video before he heads off downstairs with one last look.

When you finally greet him downstairs with a tight hug that he sinks into immediately, resting his cheek on your shoulder as your hands massage your fingers through his freshly cleaned hairs as his arms hug around your waist. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, words muffled by your sweatshirt. The feeling of your fingers at the nape of his neck makes him hum in content and sink into you peacefully just like his baby daughter did not half an hour ago. You’re just perfect for them both in every way and there is not one bone in his body that doesn’t wish he had started his family with you.

But with that realisation comes one more; that he will not settle until he has given everything he has, tried with every morsel of him to earn your forgiveness. He might not of started his family with you, but he is damn determined to make you part of it.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Clueless ~ KTH [Request]

WORD COUNT: 1.1K

PAIRING: Taehyung x Reader

GENRE: fluffy, mild angst, reading being called clingy, fluffy ending

A.N: I hope that this is okay, I went with an imagine so that it didn’t all end up the same way and it wasn’t repetitive 

After months of trying and trying for a baby, it was finally happening. You were pregnant and far along enough to tell your fiancéand his friends. The boys all knew before Taehyung because you wanted to make it a surprise for him. Deciding it would be more fun that way for him to find out after and the boys could help you throw a small party.

The plan was to tell him when you were both home alone, five minutes before the boys were supposed to be coming around but he was acting strange. Taehyung had seemed so annoyed at something all day and he wasn't telling you what was wrong. You just figured he'd woken up in a bad mood and would finally get out of it later in the day. 

"Tae?" You asked sweetly, walking into the living to find him watching something on the TV. His gaze staring at the screen as though he hadn't even heard you walk into the room. Clutching down on the box you took in a deep breath, walking over to him with a huge smile on your face. It had been one of the hardest things to hide from Taehyung and now it was finally time to show him. 

"Hi baby," You whispered in his ear, hoping that he would have brightened up a little but he just grumbled something and continued to stare at the screen. Some random historical drama was playing and you sighed a little. 

"I got you something..." You put the box onto his lap, inside was one of the cutest ways you could think of to tell him about your pregnancy.

"Not now," He grumbled pushing the box to the side as he continued to stare at the screen. 

"It's important though Tae, I want you to see it." You breathed out excitedly, still too happy to be annoyed by his mood but he stood up in a rush. 

"For fuck sake! Why are you being more clingy than usual lately? Huh?" You stared up at him in shock that he called you clingy. There was clearly something bothering him that he wasn't telling you about, 

"I didn't realise-"

"You're so fucking annoying sometimes. I just want some time to myself! Is that too much to ask for?" You got up from the sofa, brushing off the dress you were wearing and nodded over and over again. Forgetting for a moment that at any second the rest of his members were going to come through the door. 

"Tae-" You barely had time to say his name before the door burst open. 

"Y/N!" Jungkook practically screamed as he took you into his arms, smiling and hugging you tightly.

"How's my growing bean?!" He yelled out referring to the small baby growing inside of you. As you went to shake your head everyone began to congratulate Taehyung. Maybe this plan wasn't as well thought out as you thought it was.

"Hyung, I bet you're so happy." Jungkook breathed out as he walked over towards Taehyung who looked just as confused as ever. Namjoon handed you a gift bag with a giant smile on his face, 

"We all got you a little something, you can't say no to it." You sighed at him shaking your head. They had agreed to not buying you anything for the baby since you didn't know the gender yet.

"Jin, don't-"

"We have to congratulate you properly," Jin said as he walked into the house with a cake in his hands. Decorated in pink and blue icing with two candles on top, it was starting to make you feel emotional that they had gone to all of this effort. The extra hormones running around inside of you were bringing you to the brink of tears.

"What's going on?" Taehyung questioned as he finally realised that the boys were clearly congratulating him for a reason. Jimin stared at you and then to the unopened box beside Taehyung and he put two and two together to realise what was going on. 

"He doesn't know?" You shook your head in an answer to Jimin's question. Of course, he didn't know. To know he would have to pay you any kind of attention and be kind to you. 

"No, I was in the middle of giving it to him when he called me clingy." Jin stared over at Taehyung in shock as he shook his head. This was something the two of you had been trying for so long, even the boys were excited about all of this. 

"I've been stressed baby, I didn't mean to call you clingy...Can someone tell me what's going on?" None of you spoke you just stared at Taehyung and then down to the box. Smiling weakly as you nodded your head at it, 

"Open the box baby." You told him as Jin went to go and cut the cake up for everyone. The boys all staring at Taehyung as he picked up the box carefully. Worried that he had forgotten an anniversary or a birthday but the moment he opened the box he teared up. Staring from the contents and then back up to you as he felt himself beginning to cry. 

"You're really-" You nodded your head at him, smiling brightly as he threw the box down onto the ground. Rushing over to you and pulling you into his arms, face buried in your neck as he cried softly. 

Yoongi chuckled picking up the shirt that had fallen from the box, "World's best dad," with an image of Taehyung on the bottom of it. 

"You're really pregnant?!" He questioned pulling back to look at you as you nodded. 

"Almost 4 months," You breathed out looking at him as he began to cry. Eyes dancing from your stomach to your face wondering how he hadn't even noticed anything until now. 

"We're going to have a baby!" He yelled out excitedly turning to face all of the boys as he yelled it out over and over again.

"I'm going to be a father!" He mumbled looking at you again, you felt yourself beginning to tear up again as he pulled you into another embrace. 

"I'm sorry I said what I said," You shook your head at him, promising him that it was completely fine. 

"You've been stressed, maybe I should have told you before-"

"No. No, this is perfect. The boys all know, we can celebrate together." He smiled, holding your face in his hands before kissing you softly. Using his thumb to rub your tears away from your cheeks.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @rjsmochii​ @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​ @misa0000​

[amoristt]

Grazing the Fire | IV

well hello. here i am, four years later, once again enamored with nathan enough to finally dust this baby off and pick up where i left it. im a little rusty so bear with me this chapter! much more to come <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language, very vague s/a mentions

want to support me? heres my kofi!

__________________________

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

A few hands raise in the corners of your eye, but yours remains atop your desk. Eyes far away, mind in a murky haze and almost completely unaware. All you could focus on were the memories playing on repeat within the confines of your tired, tired brain. Hours ago, you were warm, you were comfortable. Safe.

Cheeks heated to a dusting blush when you remind yourself just how you had awoken that morning. At some point in the night, an angel had blessed you. Allowed you to wake up wrapped around none other than big, bad, Nathan Prescott. Your face nuzzled into his chest, broad but wiry hands pressed firmly over your shoulder and his arm slung over your waist to keep you against him. Thankfully you had been the first to wake up, blinking away the morning sun blazing through his blinds and painting the room stripes of gold. At that moment, before your headache came crashing down onto your skull, you were astounded by him. 

Eye lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. In that moment, there was no anger, no bitterness. Just a soft and peaceful slumber. It was like being the sole viewer of a magnificent painting- each stroke and detail placed just there just for you to pick out, to remember the curves and sharp edges down to the very foundation. From his unkempt hair down to the way his hand flattened onto the mattress where your indent still lived. Nathan was so beautiful like this. 

For a long time you stayed there. It was as though you were afraid to move- you couldn’t bear to disturb him. You had wondered, if he was always like this, so at peace, what would he be like? Likely soft voiced, mild mannered. He’d do his school assignments without hassle and donate to the charity board. He would wander the town with his friends and listen to music in a beat up truck flying down the stretch of highway overlooking the bold, blue, and beautiful ocean. An entirely different version of himself- carefree, and a fair blue as opposed to a burning flame of red. 

But, if that were the case, you’d never have gotten here. You’d never been both the outsider, and the only seeing eye. A lucky, albeit firstly unwilling witness to the display of depth before you. 

It never hit you like it had quite in that moment how lucky you were.

But- just then- an alarm disturbed what serendipity existed. You nearly leapt out of your skin, clutched your hands to your chest at the sudden sound. A headache wove its way into your once untouched temples. Nathan groaned, mumbled, ‘god damn it’, under his breath, and thus his body was reanimated into life. He rubbed his eyes and he stretched, that familiar scowl coming over his eyes and lips as he took in the sunlight damn near blinding him. A polar opposite to the being you’d appreciated just moments earlier.

“Ugh, fuck, how the fuck is it seven already.” He groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“Well good morning to you too,” You started, welcoming Nathan into the world. “‘I’m feeling pretty shitty as well.” 

You said that, but really… You were more than alright. Your head had hurt, slight nausea crept into the wells of your stomach, but other than that you’re sure you were phenomenally better than you’d have been waking up whereverTate would have left your ass.

“You need to get outta here, before everyone gets up.” Nathan drawled, but he didn’t sound as urgent as you expected him to be. You’d expected him to be angry that you were still in his room, but instead he just… accepted it. 

You snickered, climbing out of his throne of a bed. “Wow, you’re giving me the morning after treatment?” 

“Sure am. Get outta here, whore.”

“Oh fuck you.” 

You located your heels from last night, resting upright near his dorm room door. Heels didn’t sound like the most  practical to sneak out of a dorm with, so you instead opted to grappling them by the straps and carrying them at your side. Hair a mess, outfit riddled with wrinkles and makeup smudged under your eyes, you stood before Nathan in all your glory. He stared at you for a long, odd moment- and you for some reason felt exposed, or even, shy. 

“What?” You ask expectantly, placing a hand on your hip. 

His eyes trail to your line of vision. He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how now you really do look like my morning after.”

“Yeah?” You hummed. “Find it hard to believe you get a lot of those.”

Nathan shoots you a suggestive glance. “You’d be surprised. Everyone wants a piece of Prescott.”

Surely, he was joking, or maybe he wasn’t, but you… Didn’t like hearing that. It made your stomach feel odd, uncomfortably heavy.  As he stood up, reminding you how many inches he had over your size, you swallowed and cleared your throat to flush out that crappy feeling. “Well,” you started, mood having dropped. “I’m gonna go, then.” 

“What got your panties in a twist all the sudden?” He asked, raising a brow and pulling some clothes from his closet, tossing them onto the bed.

The bed you two had shared.

You hated the idea of his morning afters- whoever they may be. 

“Not feeling great. Probably a side effect of the roofies.” You mumbled.

Nathan breathed a laugh. “Probably.”

He seemed so calm, right now. Perhaps due to it being so early, before the outside world had a chance to remind him just why he was so uptight all the tight. Before he needed to be so uptight all the time. He really did have so many versions of himself- all of whom you were slowly becoming familiar with. Compared to the person you’d believed him to be before your run ins, you’d never have assumed someone so dangerous could be so soft as last night, as this morning. In the beginning, you’d feared him. Avoided him like a plague, or a wild animal. Even when you were enraptured in the existence of him, you still wanted to keep away. You’d never have believed someone like you could wake up clutched to his chest, as though he were afraid if he released you, you’d be gone long before he woke. 

Then, a sudden thought struck your mind. 

He’d held you so tight. He’d welcomed you in the morning. No anger, no annoyance. His soft laugh at your banter and taunts. How your heels were standing upright instead of tossed haphazardly into some random corner, where he’d watch your struggle to find. 

How he’d stayed awake to ensure your sleep.

“So are you just gonna stand there?” Nathan called you back to reality, hands gripping the hems of his shirt. “I gotta get ready and you need to wash up so you don’t look like a five dollar stripper.” Cruel words, but with absolutely no bite. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. But, hey,” You started. “Thank you for last night.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta start learning to watch your own back.” He says. “There’s gonna be times I won’t be there to drag your ass out of the fire.”

If you’d been charged, if you’d been stricken with a strange defensiveness, you’d have retorted, ‘than stop helping me’, but… Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of protection. You allowed Nathan Prescott to watch you.  

“I know,” You reached for the door. “Thank you.”

With that, you bounded out of the dorm silent as a mouse. 

-----------

In hindsight, you should have left earlier. Class was merely 15 minutes away when you slipped out of Nathan's room and bounded towards the women's dorm. Albeit not exactly a long walk, by the time you discreetly snuck back into your own dorm, you had roughly twenty minutes to somehow pick an outfit from your countless unopened boxes and make yourself even slightly presentable. 

Wiping off whatever make-up you could get and reapplying it, brushing out the tangles of your hair and nearly tearing off your scalp in the process, scattering your nightclothes over your floor and managing to scrounge out a semi-decent outfit for the day… You still looked a mess. If the mirror could laugh, it would have. Black mascara smudges under your eyes and frizzy untreated hair. What a lovely look. 

You’d made it to class just five minutes late, but those five minutes were all it took for all eyes to be on you as you tried to slide into the classroom unnoticed. A couple classmates whispered to their table mates as you passed by, smelling of oversaturated cherry blossom perfume to hopefully cover the scent of alcohol. You sauntered to your seat and sank down with all your weight, suddenly exhausted. You’d made it with just five minutes tainting your record of attendance. The teacher greeted you with a disappointed sigh, and thus, the day began. 

But, it was so hard to focus. All you could think about was Nathan. 

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

You lowered your head. 

“Ah, how about, ___?”

You snaked back into reality, blinking up at the chalk board that was somehow already riddled with math equations. Since you hadn’t been paying attention even in the slightest, your mouth gaped wide open, eyes scanning for something you understood even slightly so you didn’t look like a total idiot. 

Sadly, you were out of luck. The teacher shook his head. “I’m shocked,” He said. “You're normally so on top of things. Oh well.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was on top of things,” A female voice sniggered behind you “Last night.”

Your face flushed a red, hot, ruby. What the hell was she talking about? How had they found out you were with Nathan? You were so sure of being sneaky, there was no way-

“Her and Tate totally got it on last night.”

You whipped around in your seat, facing girls who looked to be clones of some sort. Both with the same dark eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “What?”

“Alright-” Your teacher blurted. “That's enough. April, May, enough. Let’s not discuss things outside of the classroom.”

The two girls batted their eyes. “Sorry sir.” One spoke, twirling a hand through her hair. Her sister's wide toothy grin never fumbled. 

“Back to it then. Kate, can you help out __ with number four?” 

The small, blonde girl nodded quickly, brushing a lock of hair behind her eyes and offering an empathic nod. 

As you turned around in your seat, her answer fell on deaf ears. Your heart was racing in your chest, hands balled into fists while you stared ahead blankly.  

They couldn’t seriously think that you chose to leave with Tate, could they? Surely someone must have seen the state you were in. Someone other than Nathan.

The clock ticks forward but time feels like it's passing almost unnaturally slow. With just 10 minutes left, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘Nathan: consider ur favor officially returned 

Your tongue poked from your lips, the tiniest of smiles taking over your once sullen features. Terrible thoughts and worries flew out the window while you type back, ‘damn. here i was gonna to ask you to do a backflip off the roof with me. there goes my plans.’

Nathan types for a moment. Typing, stopping, typing again. 

‘Nathan: soundz like a blast. where and when?’

A small blush heats your cheeks. ‘very funny. thanks to last night i have an entire 24 hour session of studying to catch up with.’

His response is almost instant. ‘Nathan: boringgg. txt me when ur fun.’

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone back into your pocket. It seems you’ve been able to secure enough of a friendship with him for some mindless banter even outside your little visits. You smile. He’s… Fun to talk to. Surprisingly. 

Class comes to an end and you start to pack up the books and papers you’d hardly even glanced at the whole period. Whatever had been upsetting you before is lost in your mind while you think of the morning, the night before. All the things in-between. But, your happiness doesn’t last long. As you get up, you’re almost forced right back into your seat as a weight shoves into your shoulder. Your books scatter to the floor. April, the one who’d remarked about you earlier, glares at you in what looks to be disgust. 

“Careful April,” Her sister hums as she saunters past you, keeping distance and raising her already shrill tone of voice. “Might wanna watch where you’re walking- I’d hate for you to catch something from this slut.”

You absolutely gawk at her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

April scoffs. “Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t know what you were up to last night.”

“Sleeping around isn’t a good color on you.” May hikes her bag over her shoulder and snickers at you. They both leave the class together, sickeningly in sync. You’re left stunned where you stand, unsure how the hell your life came to this so quickly. How you’ve stooped so low that the daughters of the world's most uncreative parents are able to bully you based on something that didn’t even happen.

Next class goes no better. The person to your right, a jockey looking brunette guy, asks, ‘have you ever heard of a Tate?’. You say no, that that’s the dumbest name you’ve ever heard. The idiot grins and goes back to marking down likely wrong answers on his test sheet and you debate kicking the leg of his chair out- but you don’t to avoid even more eyes on you. It makes you sick to your stomach- even more than recovering from the roofies does. How can everyone believe it? You barely even knew the guy and you were clearly uncomfortable with his advances. No one saw that? 

After everything you’d worked for to build a reputation, trying so hard to not call out peoples shit for the sake of seeming friendly, tainted over something that didn’t even happen? And the kicker was that it hadn’t even been your fault! He’d drugged you, he’d have taken advantage of you! Yet you were the bad person? 

Class came and went in the blink of an eye this time. Your mind wrapped up in the situation, your stomach churning. You wanted the day to be over with but you still had 4 more classes to suffer through. Why was this happening to you? Was Tate being treated just as horribly, or was he getting pats on the backs of his unaware friends?

Wandering down the halls to your locker, you noticed Lance and Kaz hanging around one of the drinking fountains. Your nerves quelled- your friends would surely make you feel much better. Especially since they had witnessed how awful you were feeling as you left. You approach with a relieved smile, ready to say your truth and finally have someone on your side.

“Hey guys.” You smile, but Lance looks down at his feet while Kaz places her hands to his hips. Your smile fades.

“You could have told us you were gonna spend the night with Tate,” Kaz snaps. “You didn’t need to lie like that just to leave. We were all worried about you and it was for nothing.”

“What?” You feel like you could cry. “No, Kaz, I really did try to leave. Tate tried to drug me and take me home, and-”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Lance interrupts, with a frown. He looks back down at the floor with knitted brows. “I’ve known Tate since before time. He wouldn't do something like that, especially not to one of my best friends. Plus he told me he was really into you. Why would he even try?”

“Are you serious?” You sputter. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You’ve been lying about all sorts of things!” Kaz huffs. “What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been so distant, and secretive. What are you hiding that’s making you lie like this? We’re supposed to be your friends and then you lie to our faces just to go and fuck the first guy that shows you attention.”

“What…?” It was like acid. It was like the rug had been pulled from your feet sending you spiraling down the unending cliff. Kaz, your best friend, all that venom. How could they turn against you like this? What the hell is going on? You felt your throat tighten. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m not lying to you, I-”

“We gotta go.” Lance isn’t in the mood to hear it. “We’ll catch up to you.. Some other time.”

Kaz says nothing as she pushes past you. Lance, at least, spares a short glance over his shoulder. You stood there alone in the hallway, your bag falling off your shoulder and clattering onto the floor with a thud echoing off the walls. Everything you had, all gone at once. 

No one believed you.

---------

With nowhere to go where you felt like you could truly allow yourself to process the day's events, you went to the only place you knew. 

Just outside of campus, where rocks lined the edge of the boundary, overlooking the outskirts of the town and the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. You settled yourself there, staring at the vast waters and wondering how this had all happened. Unlucky didn’t even begin to cover how it felt. Not only did you feel violated with Tate attempting to do unthinkable things with your unconscious body, but you also felt alone, and walked on. Your best friends hadn’t believed you. While Lance seemed saddened, Kaz was so… Angry. Her words cut like knives into your skin. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

You want to talk to Nathan, but knowing him, he’d see your state and bounce instantly. After all, this isn’t exactly very fun of you.

As the sun began to fall, splaying orange and blues over the wide open sky, behind you, you could hear voices. A group of them, some male, some female. Memories of when your notebook had gotten snatched by those two horsed face assholes came flooding back and with all your alertness, you stood up, and decided that this sitting place was no longer safe. Nothing was.

Before you even made it ten feet away, the group had found their way to your spot and gotten comfortable, one of the girls cheering, ‘this’ll be our hangout! look at how pretty the view is!’

You took a short drive down the stretches of road and decided that if you were going to lament in your own sadness, you were at least going to do so in a place that had something to cover the sound of your tears. Plus a nice view.

The beach, littered with its picnic tables and the sounds of crashing waves would suffice just fine. So, you pulled in the desolate parking lot and wandered down the sandy shores until you stumbled upon a picnic table shaded by a large willow cascading lushious branches to block out the sun- a perfect canopy for you to wallow under. 

You had nothing at that moment. No friends, no reputation, no one to believe your tragic tale. And now, you’d just lost the one spot that made you feel comfortable when stress was building into your body like concrete. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes and you bit your lip, dreading that feeling of a lump in your throat. Why you? Everything had been going so well. How could not even a single person believe that Tate had tried to hurt you?

Well, actually, there was one person.

Of course Nathan believed you. He’d been the one to rescue you, after all. Time and time again it seemed.  How was it that even the ones closest to you would turn their back so fast, yet Nathan seemed to be there even when you didn’t want him to be? Even when you yelled at him, and he yelled right back, fire and sparks falling into embers around the two of you. 

In that moment, you almost felt like you could finally relate to him. A reputation based on lies and things out of your control, paired with a hardheaded attitude to try and combat all the assumptions. 

No wonder he was so angry. 

“Hey bitch,” A voice suddenly called, and you had a split second moment where you were terrified of once again being the victim of a cruel prank or some classmates boredom. “How about next time you have a pity party you don’t fucking call me in the middle of it.”

You blinked away your tears and through the blurriness saw a figure coming towards you. All that sass, the tone...

“Nathan?” You breathed. It only takes moments before he’s in front of you, holding his phone in view, seeing that the call that had been running for nearly ten minute. You flush in embarrassment, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “How did that happen?”

“Well, can your ass dial numbers?” He taunts, ending the call. 

“Damn it, dumb phone must have butt-dialed you. I knew I should’ve gotten a different one.” You mentally kick yourself. “It must have unlocked in my pocket.”

“You don’t have a password on your phone?” He taunts. When you shake your head, he whistles. “You are just begging for a robbery. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the mood to send random messages to all your buddies.” 

“Fuck off.” You scowl, and he grins, hopping up on the picnic table next to you. The sun flatters his skin. He’s almost glowing. 

“Speaking of buddies, how the hell did it pick my number out of your sea of friends?”

You shrug. “Probably cuz’ it’s a priority contact.” 

“Oh lala, I’ve been upgraded to priority huh? Does it display a superman logo whenever you give it a ring?”

“Nope. When I press call it rings the nearest asshole in my vicinity. The fact that it’s you is your own problem.”

“Haha, fucking ha.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares out at the water, watching waves pull and crash onto the beach. It’s almost beautiful, until he ruins it. “Yknow, you’re a really ugly crier.”

“Wow, thanks.” You shake your head. “That's exactly what I needed to hear right now. Why did you even stay on the line?.” Wiping your eyes, you start to forget your tears. “Couldn’t have been that wild of a conversation.”

Nathan shrugs. “Between the crying and the sound of the waves it was pretty nice.” He grins. “Very educational.” 

“Awesome. Glad I was able to make your day.” It doesn’t feel like your usual bitey remarks. You’re tired, you’re still a little hurt and you can’t stop thinking about how such an amazing morning had turned into such a horrible day.

“So what’s got you all fucked up? Never seen you act like this big of a baby before.”

“Nothing. You already paid off your debt to me per this morning, so feel free to resume our regularly scheduled mutual hatred.” You say, lying through your teeth. You know you’re both past the point of hatred, but you’re feeling jaded, you can’t help it. 

“Oh shut the fuck up,” He groans. “I didn’t drag my ass all the fucking way out to this shit hole of a beach just for you to give me that bullshit. What, did you fail a test? No one matched you on tinder?”

“Everyone thinks me and Tate slept together last night.” You blurt. “I think he’s telling people me and him had sex.”

Nathan tenses his shoulders and grimaces. “Fucking werido.”

“I told my best friends that he tried to take advantage of me and they don’t believe me. One of em’ even said he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Fuck em’. Who needs best friends.”

“And to make everything so much better, these two bitches that I share four of my classes with harassed me all goddamn day. I mean, fucks sake, how the hell are girls named April and May of all things able to get to me. It’s bullshit. And to make matters worse, Tate is just… Getting away with it.”

“Yeah well, something tells me that Tate’s gonna get a real nice fucking taste of medicine eventually. I just gotta find him first. He’s got a lot of nerve spreading shit around given I knocked his ass onto the pavement.” Nathan brows knit at the memory.

You test the waters. “Why would you do that for me?”

He seems caught off guard, or maybe, surprised that you’d ask. Maybe he thinks you’re both beyond that point. He grumbles, “Why does it matter.”

“I’m just curious. We don’t owe each other anything, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” He huffs. “Don’t ask me questions to shit I don’t know the answer to.”

“You say that an awful lot.” You tease.

“Yeah well you ask dumbass questions an awful lot. Not everything I do has to have some weird ass motives behind it, ___. Maybe I’ve got beef with Tate that’s outside of you.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” You’re about to say something else, when your phone lights up with a text. The display makes your heart fall all over again. 

Unknown Number: you should just pack up and go somewhere else. no one wants std’s from breathing your air xoxo

You don’t even know who that is. Now absolute strangers are on your case. You want to throw your phone into the ocean and leave.

Nathan scoffs. “Don’t even bat a fucking eye for that bitch, whoever the hell they are. Half the hoes you’ve mentioned have slept with half the football team,” he pinches his jacket, “and I would know.”

“Ew, Nathan,” You grimace, that same feeling from the morning returning. It feels, oddly, like jealousy.  He nudges your arm with his elbow and grins playfully. It’s cute.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with you. You gotta know even I wouldn’t fuck girls that desperate. I’m a man of class.”

That last comment actually forces a laugh from you. It’s soft, but it’s real. The first laugh you’ve genuinely had all day. “That’s horrible.” You remark, giggling again.

It's almost like the slight restoration of your mood puts him at ease as well. He leans back on his hands and stares off into the ocean, those sparkling waters under the setting, orange sun. “I’m for real though. Those hoes aren’t worth your time. One day when we blow this shithole of a town they’re not even gonna matter.”

Your brows knit, eyes blinking up at him. Had you heard that right? 

“We?” You ask, perplexed, albeit a little… Hopeful.

Nathan sputters. “Well- Like, when everyone’s older and-”

“You know what, it's fine.” You interrupt. “Fuck it. You’re right. We’re gonna blow this town and they’re just gonna be some shitty memories.”

He sucks in a shaky breath. You’ve never heard him scramble like that, like he’s been unmasked. The look he casts you when you agree, when you don’t tease or patronize and finally hop on the idea that yeah, what if the two of you really didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

What if the two of you could just exist, without the anger. 

You look up at him. “Would you actually do that though?” You start. “With me, of all people?”

He swallows. His expression is tense, but he’s not upset. He appears nervous, caught off guard. Nathan tries, “I-”

Your phone rings. Shrill, piercing. Mood destroying. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s my mom.” You grab your phone and Nathan looks forward, stone faced and silent as you hop off the table and answer. It’s your mother, who all but shouts into the phone that her and your father are taking a surprising visit to Arcadia Bay while they’re traveling by on their vacation. She insists that you be ready in about an hour for dinner, and likely there will be family photos. 

Which means if you still look as wrecked as you did this morning, you’re gonna have a lot of washing up to do. With a quick goodbye, a short and sweet, ‘love you’, you hang up and sigh. 

“You still tell your mom you love her?” He teases. “What are you, five?”

You frown. “You don’t tell your parents you love them?”

Nathan side eyes you, and just shrugs. It is all the answer you need, really, and for his sake you decide it wouldn’t be best to press the issue. Not now. But- it still makes your heart hurt just a little. You wished that he’d had it better growing up. 

“Right… Do you want a ride home?”

“Fuck no, what am I,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “a fucking girl scout?” 

“I was just offering, weirdo.” When he doesn't get up, you feel like you’re missing out. Like if you stayed, maybe, just maybe, you’d get to know him a little better. “Hey, if you want, I can stay for a bit longer.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re needed elsewhere. But,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Fuckin’... Text me or something. Or not, I don’t care either way.”

There’s a small warmth in your chest that rises to your cheeks. He wants you to text him. “Yeah,” You say. “If I’m feeling fun.”

And with that, you bid him farewell, beginning your descent to the parking lot. 

“Hey,” He calls, and you turn just in time to catch a small item he’s tossed right at you. A tiny key resides in the palm of your hand. “Spare. If shit hits the fan again-...” He shrugs, and actually looks away. “Just don’t be too fucking loud of I’ll kick your ass out myself. No Madison needed.”

The widest grin plays over your lips. “I’m gonna re-decorate your room while you’re gone.”

“Ah, you fucking better not.” He shouts. “Actually- you know what, give it back.” 

“No, no! I’m sorry.” You play with the key between your fingers. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t lose it and remember- emergencies only. I don’t need you watching me sleep like fucking freak. We’re past that stage.” 

“How many times will I have to say I was never watching you. Christ… But, alright. See ya, then.” The key is heavy in your palm. 

You place it into your pocket and give him one last glance before you take off, leaving him to enjoy the sound of waves, birds, and the absence of your tears.

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 57

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,388

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE 

Author’s Note: We’re interrupting the emotions and angst for a healthy dose of smut in this one. 

A Wonderfully Well-F*cked Morning

You drifted to consciousness on a wave of pleasure, the sensations happening below your waist causing you to automatically arch your back and reach down. When your fingers came in contact with thick, soft hair at the same time that a wet tongue hit your clit, your brain finally decided to come online. Eyes opening in surprise, you looked down and found the breathtaking visual of Negan’s gorgeous face buried between your thighs.

Holy shit, what a way to start the day. 

Glancing up, his mouth curled in a soul-stealing grin at the sight of you awake and watching. His “mornin’ doll” was spoken directly to your soaked cunt, the rumbled vibration of the words making you give a small moan and open your thighs wider, so he could do as he wished.

And, apparently, what he wished was to drive you absolutely mad with desire. The distant and withdrawn Negan of last night was gone, and in his place was the playful and passionate man before you. He teased with soft kisses along the crease at the top of your thigh and lazy laps of his tongue that just barely grazed where you needed them. When you tried to lift your hips in search of more friction, his large hands pinned them to the mattress. 

It wasn’t long before you had a deathgrip on his hair, thighs trembling, and even the muscles in your stomach starting to quiver. And yet still he continued, the devilish gleam in his eyes when he glanced up at you while gently sucking your clit almost enough to send you over the edge, until he backed off and went back to nipping at your inner thighs instead.��

You were just about to beg, plead, and promise whatever he wanted, including your soul, when a muffled knocking sound broke through the top layer of hazy desire shrouding you. Negan ignored the noise, continuing with his delicious torture so that you almost instantly forgot the sound had ever happened. But then it came again a few seconds later, this time loud and sharp...and right outside the bedroom door. 

Letting go of his hair and jolting up onto your elbows, you looked down at Negan with wide eyes. He had finally lifted his head from your pussy, the sight of his lips glistening with your wetness causing a soft moan to escape that you prayed whoever was at the door didn’t hear. 

“Fucking leave!” he yelled in that no-nonsense tone that both terrified and yet also made an extra trickle of wetness run down your thigh. 

The voice that responded was muffled through the door, but still unmistakably Simon. “Sorry, boss, but there’s a situation that needs your urgent attention in meeting room C.” 

Cursing harshly, Negan dropped his forehead to your lower stomach for a few seconds before lifting his head and yelling back, “I’ll fucking be there in 5!”

You stared in the direction of the office and listened for a few seconds until the unmistakable sound of Simon banging the door closed sounded (perhaps a bit louder than needed, as if he was letting you know that he was gone). You turned back to Negan, who now had a devious smirk on his face as he looked up at you.

Giving a doubtful expression, you said, “Only five minutes?” 

“Oh, doll,” he chuckled, head ducking down so the rest was muffled against your wet flesh. “That’s plenty of time.”

It was then that you realized just how much he had been toying with you before, as his demeanor instantly changed from playful to intense, and he set to work on your cunt. He knew just where to nip and lick, and when he latched onto your clit and sucked with the perfect amount of pressure, you shot off like a rocket, coming in less than a minute from when Simon had left. 

Still panting and sprawled across the mattress, you watched dazedly as he got up and went to his armoire for clothes to get dressed. He winced when tucking his erection into the boxer briefs and dark grey pants, and the bulge made your mouth water.

“What about you?” you asked with a nod in his cock’s direction. 

Pulling on his boots, he then straightened and trailed desire-bright eyes over your sated form spread out on his bed. “I thought I already made that clear, doll,” he quipped.

Unsure if it was the post-orgasm haze making you so dense or if he was purposely being vague, you asked, “What’s that?”

Walking around the side of the bed fully dressed, while you lay totally naked with thighs still spread and naked chest heaving, he ran a warm, calloused hand down over your throat and the tips of your breasts before answering. 

“That this relationship is about more than me getting my fucking rocks off.”

His hand moved lower, between your thighs, and he watched as if mesmerized at how you shuddered and arched into the feel of his touch on your still-sensitive flesh. “However, that being said-” he backed up a step and pointed at you with a stern look on his face, “-don’t fucking move from that bed until I get back.” 

He then tucked his tongue into his cheek, gave a playful wink, and was gone. Staring up at the ceiling, you figured this was one order you’d gladly follow, seeing as how your muscles wouldn’t be able to function properly enough to help you stand, anyways. It wasn’t until a couple minutes after he was gone that you sat straight up on the bed at the remembrance of his earlier words. 

He had called it a relationship!

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Forty-five minutes later and you, unsurprisingly, were in fact not able to follow his order, after all. Which shouldn’t be a surprise because, well, it was you we were talking about here, and when did you ever listen? 

You had tried though, really you had. After Negan left, and your breathing and heart rate had returned to normal, you sat up against the headboard to wait. Your eyes landed on a book that was open facedown on his bedside table, and the parallel to your own reading habits made you smile. Picking it up, you saw that it was some sort of psychological thriller. Making a note of what page it had been opened to, you huddled down into the plush mattress, the soft black headboard at your back, and started reading from the beginning. 

However, when the black and grey wall clock near the door ticked by almost an hour that he had been gone, you put the book down and sighed in annoyance. Whatever the emergency meeting had been about, it looked as though it might take a while, and you didn’t enjoy the thought of sitting here all morning and afternoon waiting, as if at his beck and call. Your brain also unhelpfully threw out the reminder of your previous plan not to have sex with Negan until a serious conversation was had about that damned padlocked box of unanswered questions. The subconscious, exasperated with the brain pulling this bullshit so early in the morning, yelled at it to please shut the hell up. 

Fuck it, you can at least freshen up a bit before he gets back, you thought while tossing off the sheet and standing from the bed. Stretching pleasantly sore muscles, you wandered over to the large armoire and tugged open one of the drawers. Smiling at how neatly the clothes inside were folded, you selected a moss green shirt and pulled it over your head. It was much baggier than his usual style, and you had never seen him wear it before, making you wonder if he ever got a chance to take off his leader armor and just sit around relaxing the day away in baggy sweats with a good book. Probably not, seeing as how he couldn’t even enjoy a perfectly delightful you-flavored breakfast without being interrupted. 

Heading into the bathroom to relieve your bladder and then wash your hands and face, you looked in the large mirror. Finger-combing hair that had seen better days, you then opened up some of the drawers under the sink that you hadn’t checked yet, mostly out of nosey curiosity. Finding one at the bottom that was stocked full of extra bars of soap, toothpaste, and still-packaged toothbrushes, you let out a tiny whoop of joy. Jackpot!

Opening a green and white toothbrush, you grabbed the already opened toothpaste that was on the countertop and squeezed a dollop onto the brush. Giving a sigh of happiness at the clean, minty taste, you weren’t even worried about Negan being upset you had stolen one of his unopened brushes. Especially since you’d have fresh breath when he crawled back in the bed with you and-

That fantasy died a quick death when the reflection of the man himself stepped into view while you were mid-brush. Locking eyes with him in the mirror, you saw a flicker of something in his expression as he took you in, standing there in his shirt and brushing your teeth with his personal supplies. 

“I thought I told you to be in the fucking bed when I got back,” he said, but his voice didn’t have the extra little growl that signified he was truly pissed. In fact, he almost sounded amused. 

Before you could even remove the toothbrush to respond, he stepped up behind you so that his front was pressed into your back. “Nevermind, doll,” he drawled while still holding your gaze in the mirror. “This’ll work too.”

You almost choked on toothpaste from gasping at the feel of his large, rough hands running up under the hem of the shirt and over your bare hips. Quickly leaning down to spit out the paste into the sink, you turned on the water and used a cupped hand to rinse out your mouth as he continued rubbing his palms along your torso and down over the outside of your thighs. When you put the toothbrush down and straightened, his mouth immediately attacked the back of your neck, sucking and nipping lightly. His hands moved further up under the shirt to cup your breasts, and his deft fingers pinched and twisted sensitive nipples at the same time that he ground his hips against your bare ass, letting you feel the ridge of his erection through the rough fabric of the pants.

You moaned softly and pressed back into him, almost overwhelmed by how quickly he had barged in and taken control of your body’s reaction. Any thoughts of self-doubt or questions of where you stood with him temporarily flew out the window in the face of the onslaught of intense and thorough possession he was directing your way. 

Unlike when you first woke up this morning, no part of him was teasing or going slow this time around. He quickly pulled the baggy shirt up over your head, and the sight of you totally bare made a groan punch from his chest. 

He whipped his own shirt and pants off in a quick flurry of movement before leaning in so that his warm chest was pressed into your back as he opened one of the drawers at your hip and pulled out a condom. 

Wasting no time, he opened it and rolled it down the swollen cock pressing into the small of your back. When he bent his knees to line up with your entrance, you assisted by hiking a knee up on the edge of the countertop, presenting yourself to him in a way that made him pause for a moment, as if in awe, before plunging inside you with a fierce thrust and strangled growl against the back of your neck. 

You looked up and were instantly transfixed by the sight in the mirror. Negan’s tattooed, leanly muscled form towered over yours, his rough edges and possessive thrusts juxtaposed against your softer curves and arching form. 

You watched his reflection as he gripped your hips and looked down between your bodies to watch himself fuck you, the sight making you moan and clench around his cock. His gaze lifted, amber eyes locking on yours in the mirror. 

One of his hands left your hip, trailing hungrily around the front of your body and up over your stomach and breasts before wrapping long fingers around the front of your throat. The grip was light, but the ruthless ownership behind both it and his pumping hips made your eyes flutter closed in ecstasy. 

He leaned in over you, breath coming in hot strikes against the side of your throat. “You like this, don’t you, pretty girl? Like being all. Fucking. Mine.”

The last words were each punctuated by a harsh thrust, making you cry out and open lust-filled eyes. His face was there beside your own, jaw clenched as he watched your reflection in the mirror with a fierce, almost pained expression. He let out a little snarl before turning his mouth to nip at the curve of your shoulder, and that combined with his grip at your throat and heavy, thick cock fucking you against the counter all combined to throw you into an orgasm without warning. He groaned as you shuddered and clenched in his hold, his gravel over sandpaper voice in your ear. 

“Yes, milk my fucking cock.”

Coming down off the wave of pleasure, you realized that his pace hadn’t slowed down, that he hadn’t finished yet. You lowered the leg propped up on the counter, needing both feet braced against the cool, tiled floor to keep your shaky body steady. 

Your gaze dropped, taking in the reflection of what was happening between your thighs. Both his cock and the inside of your thighs glistened with a coating of your release, and he felt even bigger inside of you, now that your walls were a little swollen and tender from both the friction of his cock and your recent orgasm. Right when his movements became almost too overwhelming against your oversensitized cunt, and you were about to ask for a break, he paused his thrusts and removed the hand from around your throat. 

Your thought that he was granting you a reprieve was instantly proven wrong when he gave a growled warning of, “Brace your arms on the sink,” right before his forearms hooked down under both your knees and lifted your entire lower body off the ground. Since the action pushed you forward, your body had no choice but to do as he said, forearms holding the weight of your upper body against the surface of the sink while your lower half hung suspended at the perfect height for his cock. 

He resumed his quick pace, fucking into you relentlessly. And, surprisingly, instead of becoming too much, the sensations pulled back from borderline painful and started to feel pleasurable again. Very pleasurable. 

Your whimper caused him to give a low moan in response, and his voice came through gritted teeth. “That’s it, doll. Fucking come for me again.” 

Trying to find your voice, you wanted to say that you weren’t sure if that was possible, that coming again so soon wasn’t likely. Instead, the words choked in your throat when he bent down and licked up your spine before sucking roughly on the skin of your back. He then ground his cock into you so hard that your pelvis pushed against the edge of the counter, the hard surface rubbing over your clit in exactly the right way needed to send your body spasming into a second orgasm.

You lost yourself in pleasure that had no beginning and no end, just endless heavy waves of bliss. Dimly, you heard him give a groan of completion as he gave a few sharp, hard thrusts, and then his body went still. He allowed your legs to lower to the tiled floor, and thank god for being braced on the countertop, otherwise you would’ve crumpled in a quivery heap at his feet. 

You took in the reflection of both you and Negan’s sex-dazed expressions, skin flushed and dewy with sweat despite the cool bathroom. A satisfied smile curved his lips, and you watched in the mirror as he bent down and kissed the curve where your neck met shoulder, the scratch of his beard rising goosebumps to the already sensitive flesh. He hummed happily against your skin, and you wished that the two of you could stay in this intimate bubble forever. That no outside intruders or internal thoughts could stand in the way of feeling like this with him every single day. 

As if he were thinking something similar, he ran a warm hand down over the curve of your hip and said in a sexy, husky voice, “Now that is a perfect fucking way to finish off the morning.” 

Unable to help a dreamy smile in return, you were finally able to fully stand up from the counter without fear of your legs giving out. Turning in his hold, you twined arms up around his neck and tugged him down for a proper kiss involving lips and tongues and even a hint of teeth. 

You pulled away after a few long moments, and offered, “What are your plans for today?”

Biting his lip and giving one of his signature cheeky grins, he replied, “I have to go over some new outpost security measures with Simon this afternoon. However…” his hands cupped your ass and kneaded possessively, “my evening is all fucking yours.”

Lord, but you liked the sound of that. Standing on tiptoe and placing another, softer kiss to his lips, you suggested, “How about I bring us dinner around 7:30?”

“I’ll be waiting,” he replied with one last squeeze of his hands before he stepped away to dispose of the condom and gather both your clothes off the tiles. 

The men had brought back some freshly butchered deer meat from the supply run, and Ben had been excited to try making stew with both it and vegetables from the garden. Thinking of Ben was also a reminder that you had promised to hang out with him today. You were very curious to hear details about what was going on with him and Simon, not to mention needing a friend to talk through some of your own worries regarding Negan.

Pulling the baggy green shirt back on, you preceded him into the bedroom and grabbed your jeans from where they had been discarded on the floor last night. You didn’t want to return his shirt, so tucked it into the jeans to hide the obviously ill-fitting length of it before pulling on your sneakers. Turning, you found an also fully-dressed Negan watching you. His gaze took in the outfit with an expression that was difficult to decipher, but seemed somewhere between appreciative and smug at the sight of you in his shirt. 

Struggling not to roll your eyes or make a comment about “males and their strange possessiveness”, you walked out of the bedroom with him following behind. Stopping at the closed office door, you turned and looked up at him, unable to resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers down over his bearded cheek. He bent and gave you one final kiss in return, then opened the door and watched you leave. 

You weren’t able to contain the happy grin tipping up the corners of your mouth. Not even the sudden appearance of the brain, who was dragging the padlocked box of questions, could dim your mood. The subconscious strode happily at your side, but as the brain fell more and more behind, struggling to keep up with the heavy metal box, it turned with a sigh and went back to help. 

I know. I know! We’ll have a conversation with him tonight; open up the box and air out some of those unanswered questions. But for right now, we’re going to bask in the afterglow of such a wonderfully well-fucked morning. 

The brain and subconscious didn’t argue, just huffed and puffed as they worked together to finally pick the box up off the ground. Balancing the heavy weight between them, they gave each other exasperated looks, then hurried down the hall after you.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[sweetmidnights]

Honestly, being in Emily's arms sounds pretty good right now

i would like nothing more, nonnie. this turned out differently than you probably were expecting but this is what i wanted to write 😋

let’s consider this part 1 of my roommate series 😋

note: i headcanon that just like how paget had really short hair until like 25, so did emily. still our lovely, femme, kickass emily but with short, gay hair.

“will you come to target with me tonight?” your roommate emily asked as you sat in your small, shared living room on the even smaller loveseat.

she had been finally putting together her room after being in the new apartment for over two weeks. peeking into the open, sliding door, you saw her mattress sitting on the floor, your dresser backed against the window, several unopened boxes and a slew of clothes and sheets flung about the tiny space.

“yeah, of course,” you responded, turning back to your netflix show.

emily puttered about the apartment a little more, making some concerning banging noises which made you look back again.

“you doing okay in there?” you asked, seeing her bent over to pick up what she had dropped.

out of breath, she huffed a “yes” back in your direction before standing fully. her hair was in its natural waves, wild in all the directions the crew cut stuck up from her head. her sweatshirt was obviously worn and was covered in aliens and magic mushrooms— you wondered what exactly her life had been like before you met just a few months ago.

not quite ready to let the conversation go yet, you asked, “whatcha need from target?”

“well, baking pans for starters,” she said, wincing slightly.

with her generational wealth, a lot of the apartment you shared was thanks to her family’s financial well-being. not wanting to be completely useless, however, you had gathered all of your old housewares and furniture from undergrad and from home to bring with you, furnishing almost the entire apartment. she said she would pick up whatever else the apartment needed, which wasn’t much. toilet bowl cleaner and brush, baking pans, and whatever else you realized you needed as time grew on.

just that morning, however, you caved and bought the cleaning supplies yourself, not sure you could last another day without having a clean house. so you had spent the better part of the morning deep cleaning the bathroom and kitchen while emily pretended not to notice that you were well aware that in her natural chaos, she had forgotten to do one of the only things you had asked of her.

you didn’t mind, not really. without her and her family you would probably be living on the streets of the east village as you went to grad school in this giant, overpriced city.

“oh?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow and hoping emily would elaborate.

“well ,i have got to get those bananas out of here,” she said, referencing the bunch of four rotting bananas on the kitchen counter from one of her first grocery hauls. “gonna make that banana bread.”

you smiled, surprised. she may just be the first person you had ever met that actually would make banana bread out of forgotten bananas.

“okay, i will ask my mom for her cookie recipe and we can bake tonight, okay? maybe watch a movie and bond a little,” you replied before turning back to your show, snuggling under your favorite blanket.

emily was only a year younger than you but had been in the city for nearly a year when you started looking for a roommate in the spring of your final year of college. she was a transfer student at one of the biggest universities in the city but because of that transfer, it would be another two years at least before she finished her degree, despite having started directly out of high school.

that night, after decorations had been hung up and the remnants of a candle’s scent wafted around the apartment, you walked shoulder to shoulder through the bustling friday night crowds. you lived in a neighborhood that still made you a little uneasy but as you broke a little deeper into the blocks of businesses nestled together, you noticed the dozens or even hundreds of people moving in and out of bars, walking dogs, and generally minding their own business.

as you rounded the corner for the local target, you noticed a white horse-drawn carriage pass with royal purple upholstery and detail work directly in from of a bar covered in rainbow flags and surrounded with people just like you, just like emily.

“em, look!” you exclaimed as you elbowed her ribs, her taller stature making it easy for your innocent touches to land in less innocent places.

she chuckled a little, finding your enthusiasm for the city so endearing.

“yeah, i see! maybe we should go in sometime,” she said, a little sparkle in her eye.

“that would be great, i think.”

less than 40 minutes later, you and emily collapsed against the door of your apartment, both out of breath from hiking the groceries up the flights of stairs to your fourth floor apartment.

“that’s never gonna get easier, is it?” you asked, moving to make the ac blow a little colder.

“definitely not,” emily responded, moving to start unpacking her supplies.

before long you joined her in the impossibly tiny kitchen, content to watch as the master worked to make a recipe she seemed to have made a thousand times. you were mesmerized by the way her hands so seamlessly mixed and measured all of the ingredients, the expertise of it all, even when she poured more chocolate chips into her mix and on top of each muffin (because of course target didn’t have bread pans) than you thought possible.

the night was filled with messes and bad dancing to the waitress soundtrack as you made your own sugar, butter, and flour into something beautiful.

“do you still want to watch a movie?” you asked as emily pulled the last muffin from the tin to cool on the counter.

she popped her chocolate-covered thumb into her mouth before smiling, “well yeah!”

you settled onto the couch and picked “the corpse bride” because emily had wanted to see coraline but you couldn’t find it anywhere. the corpse bride was just as good, if not better, anyway.

from the beginning emily was enraptured, commenting on how dull and bleak the world looked for not being a black and white film and then once more when the colors of the underworld were overwhelmingly brilliant. she then took the time to analyze the literary beauty of the underworld being where the true colors lay, of how victor seemed to have a blue tint upon his returns to the above, of the very end and its symbolism.

what caught your attention, though, was the way emily leaned into you, laying her back against your side as she flung her legs over the arm of the couch or the way she pressed her shins against your thigh when there was a multitude of other ways for her to get comfortable on the couch.

it wasn’t long before you hand dropped to her leg, thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of her leggings. she noticed almost immediately but waited a full five minutes before grabbing your hand and lifting.

startled to realize you had even been touching her, you panicked and began to apologize before she shook her head and laughed a little.

“is this okay?” she asked as she guided your arm around her shoulders. you gulped and nodded, a knowing spark passing between the two of you: the understanding of the level of trust already building between the two of you as she actually asked for what she needs and you enthusiastically allowed the physical touch.

“yes, of course,” you responded with a smile.

it wasn’t long before emily slung her arm around your waist and burrowed her head into your shoulder as you watched the movie.

by the end, you both were yawning every couple of minutes and you were the one who decided it was bedtime to which emily enthusiastically agreed.

it was only when you noticed her look of longing that you questioned your decision, questioned whether or not to invite her into your room for sleep. you still weren’t sure where the boundaries lay and didn’t want to mess up what could be your best rooming situation fo date. so you simply went to bed with an easy “goodnight, em” while she burned off some nervous energy putting the kitchen back into some semblance of array.

whether roommates were all you would ever be or if the spark you both had felt would become more was still uncertain, still waiting well past the horizon. but tonight you were happy, tonight you were in your dream city with a roommate who exceeded your expectations and a belly full of homemade, chocolate-tinted love.

what else could you ask for?

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