#an airplane carried me to bed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roosterforme · 6 months

Text

Party of Three, Checking In | Rooster x Reader

Summary: According to Bradley, your pregnancy was one of the most exciting things that had ever happened. He could see and sense the small changes in your body, and he was already getting into dad mode. And now, after weeks of waiting, he could finally talk about it whenever he wanted to.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, allusions to smut, pregnancy topics

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley had you half undressed on your bed with his hands on your hips and his lips on yours. You had no doubt that he was excited. You could feel him. His mustache prickled your nose, and you moaned, trying to get more friction against your body. You needed more of him everywhere, but he slowly started to pull away. He was distracted. His eyes were drifting to the nightstand, and you knew what he was looking for.

"Holy shit," he gasped, reaching to grab the pile of ultrasound images. He managed to persuade your doctor to print twenty of them for him at your appointment two hours ago. And he just couldn't seem to put them down even as you wrapped your legs around him and laughed.

"Roo, you're being a tease."

He groaned and looked at the pictures and then at your face. "I'm not trying to, Baby Girl. I'm just so fucking excited." His cheeks were flushed, and his pupils were blown wide as he added, "I can't get over how much the chicken nugget grew."

You bit your lip and ran your fingers through his already messy hair. The baby was starting to resemble an actual baby and not just a nugget. The heartbeat was strong, and everything was going great. You didn't even feel as sick as you did a few weeks ago. But Bradley was leaving very soon for another deployment, and you didn't want to rush him through his feelings.

When you leaned up and pressed your lips to the paper airplane tattoo on his right bicep, his attention returned to you. "You'll be the best Daddy in the world," you promised.

"Sweetheart," he moaned, finally giving you some of that friction you needed with his big, warm body. "Call me Daddy again."

You ran your tongue over his tattoo before you whispered, "Daddy."

He tossed the ultrasound photos aside, and then his lips met your belly. "I love you. I love you both so much. I'm so excited."

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

On Saturday morning, it was hard to be upset about his upcoming deployment when Bradley took one good look at you. Your eyes were bright, and your smile was wide as you carried the iPad and a few of the ultrasound photos over to where he was sitting on the couch waiting.

"You ready for this?" he asked, kissing along your neck as you turned the tablet on. "God, you smell good."

"Probably because I spilled coffee on my shirt," you murmured.

Bradley grinned as you started up the facetime call to your parents. You were wearing his old shirt, and he ran his nose along your ear and whispered, "You always smell nice."

You made a soft sound as the iPad rang. "You're just extra horny for me right now because of the Nugget."

"Perhaps," he replied, fully knowing he was usually like this. "But you're over the top for me right now, so it's only fair."

"Hi!"

Bradley jumped a few inches away from you as your mom answered the call. "Hey, mom," you said with a smile as you tried to pull Bradley's hand out from under the shirt you were wearing. When he looked at himself on the tablet screen, he realized his cheeks were flushed, so he scooted a couple more inches away from you and tried to keep his hands to himself.

"Wait, hang on and I'll get Dad." Your mom vanished from view, but Bradley could hear her calling your father's name loudly throughout their house.

"They are going to lose their minds," you whispered excitedly as you laced your fingers with his. The two of you had been waiting until after your twelve week appointment to start telling family and friends about your pregnancy. On top of your nausea finally starting to calm down, you looked absolutely stunning. Bradley could finally admit that yes, your ass was looking a little bigger these days, but definitely in a good way. You kept telling him you were bloated, but he thought you looked like a fucking goddess. There was just something extra delightful about your tits now, too....

"Hi," your dad huffed, clearly out of breath as he and your mom both appeared on the call. "Sorry, I was outside getting ready to cut the grass."

You turned to look at Bradley, and he nodded at you with a little grin. "We won't keep you too long. We just wanted to tell you something."

"Is everything okay?" your mom asked, brow furrowed as she leaned a little closer to the screen. "Bradley, did something happen with your deployment? Is it longer now?"

"No," he replied immediately, because she sounded so worried. "We're calling about something exciting. Well, we're excited about it, and we think you will be, too."

Your parents still looked confused as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. Then you held up one of the new photos of the nugget and said, "I'm pregnant. You're going to be grandparents."

Your dad gasped, and your mom was immediately shoving her reading glasses onto her face to get a better look. "Grandparents?" your dad asked with a smile, but your mom shrieked.

"Grandparents," Bradley confirmed a little louder over the delighted screaming.

"Oh my god!" your mom wailed, shaking her husband. "We have to move to California. Take the early retirement package. We have to move! We're going to be grandparents!" Then she looked back at the iPad as you started to laugh. "I'll call our realtor on Monday, and I'll start looking at listings in San Diego again. When are you due? I wonder if we can move by the spring!"

"Late March," you told her as you held the ultrasound images a little closer to the camera for your dad to look at while your mom started to pace.

"Kind of looks like a cute chicken nugget," your dad said with a soft smile.

"Right?!" Bradley said excitedly. "That's what I've been saying!"

Your dad reached for your mom and finally got her to stop walking around the kitchen in a daze. "Your mom and I have been talking about moving anyway, and being in a warmer climate near the two of you.... I mean the three of you... would probably be ideal."

Bradley noticed a few happy tears in your eyes as well as your mom's. "That would be great, dad," you whispered.

A few minutes later, you and your mom were all giggles as you ended the call, and Bradley couldn't stop smiling either. After you tossed the iPad and the photos onto the coffee table, you crawled onto his lap and cupped his face in both of your hands. "I can't wait to tell everyone at the Hard Deck tonight," you whispered, letting your forehead rest against his.

"Nat is going to lose her fucking mind," he muttered, his lips brushing yours. "She spent years picking on me for being unwilling to settle down, and now we're having a kid."

Truthfully, he never minded. Nat kind of became his family after his mom died; she was the first person he really opened up to. She was there to witness the aftermath of his one night stands and his adamant insistence that bachelorhood was what he wanted. He just never knew he could have a partner until he met you.

You raked your fingers through his hair, soothing him in that way that only you could as you kissed the scars on his cheek. Then you whispered, "I'm glad we told your parents first."

Somehow you always knew what to say and when to say it. Bradley tightened his hold on you until your chest was pressed to his. "You made that happen," he muttered. "Because you're perfect."

Your cheek came to rest on his shoulder, and Bradley could hear tears in your eyes as you said, "I wish I could have met them."

"Don't cry, Baby Girl. My parents are smiling somewhere at the thought of the nugget. I just know it."

It took Bradley a minute to realize that your soft breathing and limp arms around him meant that you were asleep, and he had to try not to shake you with his silent laughter. He knew you were exhausted so he sat quietly with your body cradled against his, looking forward to the day when he could hold you in one arm and the baby in the other.

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

Everyone seemed to think the whole purpose of the night out at the Hard Deck was to wish Bradley and Reuben good luck on their upcoming special deployment, and that was fine with you. That was part of the reason you tried to get everyone to come out on Saturday evening for a drink, but it wasn't the only reason.

"You ready to go?" Bradley asked as he walked into the bedroom where you were still getting dressed. You took one look at him in his snuggest fitting pair of jeans and the tropical print shirt that matched the one you were wearing. You squeaked softly.

"Almost." But now you were thinking about just staying home, unzipping his jeans and getting in bed. "You look hot."

He smirked and picked up the ultrasound photos as you struggled to button your own jeans which were starting to feel a little tight now just like your uniform pants. "And you look like I'm gonna fuck you hard into the bed later tonight."

"Let's stay home," you said quickly, but he was already shaking his head.

"I want everyone to know about the nugget before I deploy. You'll just have to whine and bug for me to bring you home from the bar earlier rather than later."

You rolled your eyes but led the way out to the kitchen where you pulled a bottle of Gatorade from the refrigerator. It was icy cold, and you knew it was going to taste delicious, but you didn't want to open it until you got there. Bradley led you outside to his Bronco and buckled you in after he handed you the pictures of the baby. It wasn't a long drive to the Hard Deck, and the two of you started taking bets about who was going to cry.

"Mav will shed some tears," Bradley rasped as he drove.

"No, he won't!" you insisted. "But Maria will. And so will Bob and Penny."

"There's no way Bob will cry."

"He will!"

"Nah. But I think you're underestimating how sappy Maverick can get."

You shook your head as he pulled into the parking lot. "What if everyone cries?Oh my god, what if nobody cries?" you asked as you walked along, holding his hand.

"Nat is a given," Bradley said, leaning down to kiss your cheek as he pulled the door open for you to walk into the noisy bar. "Just wait."

With your fingers laced together, you and Bradley headed right for the bar where Penny was taking a handful of orders. When she caught sight of the two of you, she held up two fingers. "This is where the fun begins," you whispered as Bradley held up just one finger in response. Penny looked a little confused, but she got just one bottle of your favorite beer ready instead of two. When she set it down, you asked, "Penny, could I get a straw for my Gatorade?"

"Sure," she told you with narrowed eyes, reaching for a straw without taking her eyes off you as you opened your drink. "Here you go."

"Thanks!" you replied cheerfully. When you walked away with Bradley's big hand resting just above your butt, you felt her eyes following the two of you. "I think she's suspicious."

"Excellent," Bradley murmured before taking a sip of his beer. The first person to greet both of you near the pool table was Reuben who would be leaving with Bradley on this dreaded deployment.

"What's up man?" he asked your husband before leaning down and pulling you in for a hug. "Hey, can you bake some of those cookies I like and send them away with Rooster?"

You laughed and pecked him on the cheek. "Yes. As long as you look after him for me."

"I always do," he told you with a wink. He looked at your drink and asked, "You want something from the bar?"

"Nope," you told him, hoisting your plastic bottle a little higher as Bradley's hand slid lower to your butt. "I'm all set."

"O-kay," he said, looking as puzzled as Penny. Everyone was used to seeing you and Bradley with matching beers in your hands, including Cam and Maria who both materialized next to you.

"Which aviators are single again?" Cam asked, glancing around so suspiciously you snorted.

Maria smirked and said, "Not Bradley. Not Jake. Not Bob."

You gasped as you looked at Bob leaning on the edge of the pool table lining up a shot next to Maverick. "You made it official? You're not just fucking and cuddling with him all night?"

"It's official," she said, smiling at him when he looked up at her. Then she turned back to you. "Want me to get you a beer or a tequila shot or something?"

"No, I'm good," you told her, tapping her drink with your Gatorade.

"Mmmk," she said, giving you a bit of side eye as she walked away. Now Bradley was talking to Jake and Cat about his deployment. They were the only two here who already knew you were pregnant and that tonight was supposed to be the unveiling.

"Nobody guessed yet?" Cat whispered to you. "I've never seen you drink anything except a beer when you're out for the night."

You shook your head and laughed. "Give it another minute."

When Bradley's hand slid down to cup your butt through your jeans, you had to press your lips together to keep from giggling. He kept telling you that the way you were filling out your pants was working for him, and you'd taken to wearing yoga pants around the house with more frequency as a result.

"Here she comes," Bradley rasped next to your ear, sending a ripple of anticipation down your spine as his best friend came barrelling your way. He gave you a little pat and pushed you toward Phoenix.

"Hey, Nat," you greeted with a smile.

"What is this shit?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at your Gatorade. "I'll get you a real drink." Then she glanced at Bradley where he was hovering next to you with a grin. "The two of you look like idiots in your matching shirts, and I am not saying that with love."

He burst out laughing. "Thanks, Nat."

"Let's get that drink," she said, but then her eyes shifted between Bradley's face and yours as you brought the straw up to your lips and took a long sip. Bradley's hand migrated from your butt, wrapping around your waist and pulling you slightly in front of him as his palm came to rest on your belly over your tropical button down.

"I'm actually all good with this one." Now, when you raised your bottle, Nat's gaze dropped down to Bradley's hand, and she gasped so loudly, she sloshed some of her drink onto her hand.

"You're not. Are you?" she asked, eyes wide. "Are you? Bradley!"

When you looked up at your husband, he leaned down and kissed you as he chuckled. He was looking at you with the most loving expression, his gaze never wavering as he said, "Go on ahead and say it, Nat."

"Are you pregnant?" she practically screeched, and when you looked at her and nodded, she burst into tears.

"You were right," you told Bradley as his best friend slammed into him, the liquid from her glass sloshing all over Mickey. "She's definitely crying."

"Crying about what?" Bob asked in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Rooster's gonna be a dad!" Nat wailed, squeezing him around the waist before switching and hugging you tight. "He knocked up his wife, and that's why she's drinking Gatorade!"

Next thing you knew, Bradley was unbuttoning his shirt with a bright smile, revealing the tee underneath that read Dad in the Streets, Daddy in the Sheets.

"Roo!" you gasped when you read it, but it was too late for you to be annoyed by it. Your friends were closing in on the two of you, and you reached out for Bradley's hand.

"Congratulations!"

"I was wondering why you were drinking a Gatorade!"

"Are you serious right now?!"

"This is so exciting!"

Bradley only released your hand to give Maverick a hug, and you were surprised to find that he was definitely crying. But now you were crying, too. Because everyone you cared about knew now. Bradley's parents and your parents and the community of friends that you loved so much. They all knew.

"A round of Gatorades on me!" Cam called out before picking you up off the floor in a bear hug. "Oh shit, I don't want to hurt the baby," he said before practically dropping you back on the floor.

But then Jake caught you in his arms while someone handed Bradley a bottle of champagne. "I'm happy for you, Angel. I know how much you both wanted this. That man worships the ground you walk on. It's actually pretty distressing to think about, but he'll be the same way with the kiddo."

You couldn't even keep track of how many people had given you a hug. Penny brought you some sparkling grape juice, and Reuben offered to run to get food if you were hungry. You kept swiping at the tears in your eyes, but Bradley had no shame at all.

"I love you, Baby Girl!" he called from a few feet away where he was handing out the ultrasound pictures like they were celebratory cigars and sipping on the champagne bottle. "Look how adorable this nugget is," he was telling Nat and Maverick. "I'm gonna have the cutest baby ever. I mean look how fucking perfect my wife is."

You found his obnoxious shirt more endearing now than annoying, and when you tucked yourself against his side, his lips tasted like champagne. And he smelled delicious. And he looked incredible. "Oh no," you moaned softly as he put the remaining few photos in his jeans pocket. "Roo."

He looked down at you and smiled before chugging what was left in the bottle. You watched the scars pull taut on his neck as he swallowed, and your hand came to rest on his abs. After he swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he asked, "You about ready for me to take you home and fuck you hard into the bed?"

You didn't even care who heard him as you dug the Bronco key out of his pocket. "I'll drive, Daddy. You save your energy."

After that, you and he made a pretty hasty exit which was a surprise to exactly nobody. As much as you were dreading sending him on a deployment while you were pregnant, you know that you'd have so many people around you who would be happy to help you if needed.

Once you started to buckle Bradley into the passenger seat, he placed a few sloppy kisses on your cheek. When he pulled you onto his lap, you whispered, "I'm going to have the sweetest baby in the world. I mean look how fucking perfect my husband is."

He cupped your cheek with a dreamy look in his eyes. "Let's go home."

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

Bradley was bursting at the seams with excitement! Dad mode has been activated. Baby Girl seems to be over the morning sickness hump. And pretty soon we'll send Bradley away. I'll post a few more one-shots, and then we dive into a new series! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

888 notes · View notes

thewritingrowlet · 28 days

Text

The Anniversary, ft. tripleS Kim Yooyeon

tags: fuck it, no tags this time

length: 14k+

author's note: I've lost count of how many times I've been asked to write a Yooyeon smut, so for those who yearn for it, this one's for you.

Yooyeon stirs awake in the middle of the night, feeling uneasy about not having you, her husband, in bed with her like she usually does. She rolls onto your side of the bed and reaches for the framed picture sitting on the bedside table. It’s a picture of you and her, taken on the first night of the vacation trip to Europe to celebrate your first anniversary. “It’s been over 5 years, hasn’t it, love?” Her finger runs up and down on the side of the frame, recalling the memory from what feels like a lifetime ago.

A few days before the trip, Yooyeon and you had a disagreement over some things—things that mattered little but were handled poorly enough that they created a fissure in the new and fragile marriage, even though they shouldn’t have been to begin with.

“I don’t want to talk to you ever again! Leave me alone!” She yelled out, letting her frustration and anger be known to you.

Yooyeon remembers the way you slammed the bedroom door on your way out after the final argument of that Sunday evening. Yooyeon also remembers the way you skipped kissing her before leaving for work the following morning. Finally, Yooyeon remembers how her cheeks were drenched in tears because she thought you weren’t coming home on Monday.

At that point, she thought she had lost everything—over nothing but some de minimis matters. She vividly remembers the way she was leaning against the front door, praying to whatever higher being could hear her for you to come back home—for you to say that you love her and that everything wasn’t so doomed; for you to take her hands in yours and recite the vow: “together always, in joy and in sorrow, for better or for worse.”

Yooyeon recalls how surprised she was when the front door she had been leaning against suddenly swung open, making her tumble backwards. “My love, it’s you! Oh my God, it’s you!” She exclaimed when she saw you at the front door, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. “You took me in your arms and carried me to bed, love,” Yooyeon recalls, “y-you told me that you were sorry, and-and you promised that you’d work on becoming a better man for me.”

All this recollecting has her shedding tears subconsciously, but her mind doesn’t want to stop here just yet. It reminds her of that moment after the super late dinner on Monday where she bent over your lap, hiked up her negligee, and offered you her round butt to be spanked. “Punish me, my love; I’ve been a very bad wife,” she said. She shut her eyes to brace for the impact when she saw you lifting your hand. “I was so scared, my love; I thought you were going to really hit me,” she wipes the tear on her left cheek, “you have no idea how relieved I was when I felt you caressing my butt instead of hitting it.” “I would never hurt you like that, my love,” she impersonates you, getting your deep voice as close to the original as she can.

Yooyeon rolls around in bed as she contemplates calling you. She knows that you wouldn’t get angry about it, but at the same time, she wonders if maybe you were asleep—she hates disturbing your sleep. “Ah, I can’t take this anymore.” She grabs her phone and finds your contact easily. “Please pick up, my love.”

You just got off the airplane that took you from Florence back to Seoul. You’re very tired but at the same time, you’re very excited to get home. You’ve spent the last few days going through an absurd amount of work; you’ve met with foreign partners, signed countless documents, and the most painful of them all: eaten at good restaurants without your beloved wife.

Right after you get in your car, you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. You read the name of the caller and see that it’s your wife.

“Hello, love.”

“Are you okay, honey? Why aren’t you sleeping? Isn’t this super late in Seoul?”

“I-I was asleep but not having you in bed with me is awful”

“Really?” You tease her, smirking as you do.

“What—of course! You know this better than anyone, love!”

You try your best to stay in character and not burst out laughing—you even cover your mouth with your palm so that your phone doesn’t pick up any sound.

“Love? Why are you quiet?”

“Oh, sorry,” you clear your throat, “I was looking at the flight schedule.”

“Flight sche—are you coming home!?”

“I’m about to, honey—I’ll be home before you know it.”

“I’m waiting for you! I love you!”

“I love you more, honey. See you soon, alright?”

As soon as you end the call, you start laughing; you just told your wife a harmless lie and now you’re about to appear at the front door of your house and surprise her. Before you start driving away, you grab a velvet box from your suitcase that’s sitting on the passenger seat. You open it and inspect its content, “I hope you like jewelry, love.”

One last turn to make before you reach your house, and you start feeling nervous and excited at the same time. This electric car doesn’t make any noise, so that’s a plus and minus at the same time: you can approach the house without making any noise but at the same time, you need to come up with something to get her open the front door, since Yooyeon must be in the bedroom on the second floor, which has windows you can see from the driveway.

You think about whether you can pull off the surprise. “Oh, man, how can I get her to come to the front door at this hour?” Your eyes wander around the front side of the house as you look for ideas. They finally land on the CCTV that’s pointed at the front door. “Should be able to use that.” You pull out your phone and call her, and she picks up immediately thanks to her sleeplessness.

“Honey, I’ll be quick so listen to me,” you say in a serious tone, “I see someone at our front door.”

“F-front door? W-who?” She’s starting to fall for the prank. “Wha-what do I do, love? Do I call the police?”

“Just—oh, fuck,” you dramatize, “just bring a gun or a taser and check—be careful, honey!”

Your wife hangs up the call, presumably to get one of the self-defense weapons you’ve provided for her. You get out of the car and stand at the front door, and while you wait, you pray that she won’t pull the trigger against you, its master.

You didn’t have to wait long, because after a few seconds, the left half of the butterfly door swings open, revealing your wife, who is wearing a pink nightgown—she’s also aiming her gun at you. “Hi, baby,” you greet her with a smile, “missed me?” Yooyeon can’t believe her eyes; her husband, who she thought was still in Florence, is standing in front of her. “H-honey? I-is that really you?” You approach her and lower her gun so that it’s not aimed at your face. “Yes, love, it's me.”

Yooyeon lets the gun fall onto the floor as she falls limp into your arms. “Hi, love,” you greet the baffled woman one more time, “I’m home, love—I’m here for you.” She pulls away from the hug and takes a good look at your face. “Oh my God, it really is you, love,” she rubs your cheeks gently, “b-but how? I thought you were still abroad?” You reveal to her that you were actually in the airport’s parking lot when she called: “I literally just got in the car when your call came in.” Your wife lets out a deep sigh and shakes her head in amusement. “I can’t believe you fooled me like that, love.”

You ask her to let go of you for a second so that you can close and lock the door. You then pick up the gun from the floor, lock the safety switch, and hide it among the books on the nearby bookshelf. Once you’re done, Yooyeon wraps her arms around your body and leans against your chest. “I love you, hubby,” she says softly, almost too quiet to reach your ears, “I love you so much.”

Without saying it back, you lift your wife and carry her to the sofa. You carefully lower her and have her sit on it while you take a knee in front of her. “Are you proposing again, love? I’ll say yes again, don’t worry.” You chuckle, “no, but I do have something for you.” You fish the velvet box from your back pocket and open it for her. “Happy anniversary, baby.” The actual anniversary is later this week but whatever—there’s nothing stopping you from giving your wife a gift.

Yooyeon looks at the necklace you’ve bought for her in awe, seemingly very fond of it. “This looks expensive, love,” she takes the box from your hands and takes a closer look, “is this for me?” You chuckle again. “Well, yeah—who else deserves such a gift aside from my beautiful wife?” She hands the box back to you and lifts her hair off her neck. “Please, honey,” she says. You move behind her and connect the chain right on her nape. She then turns towards you and shows the centerpiece—it looks majestic hanging on the center of her chest, right underneath her neck. “Absolutely beautiful, honey,” you let out a praise, causing her to blush. “Me or the necklace, love?” You smile at her lovingly. “You are beautiful, and that necklace wouldn’t look as good on anyone else, honey.”

You take a glance at the square clock sitting under the TV: it’s now a little past 2 a.m. “Love, you said you couldn’t sleep because I wasn’t with you,” you run a thumb across her soft cheek while looking deep into her eyes, “do you think you can sleep now that I’m home?” Yooyeon takes a deep breath and smiles after. “When you’re with me, I can conquer the world, love.” You put on a sad face. “If you’re busy conquering the world, then who would I be cuddling every night?” She playfully slaps you in the chest. “Oh my God, stoooop,” she fans her red face with both hands, “anyway, yes, I can sleep now that you’re here.”

She opens her arms wide open while her beautiful eye smile is forming on her face. You lift her up with little trouble and walk towards the bedroom with her. “My God, you’re so beautiful, honey,” you let one more praise fly out of your lips. She accepts the praise with a giggle and returns it in the form of a peck on your cheek.

You let her down from your arms and move towards the wardrobe to find something to wear to sleep. You know that your wife likes seeing you undress, so to accommodate that, you take off your clothes in front of her. “You age so well, love,” she bites her lip sexily. You ask if she’s in the mood for sex: “sorry, love, not today.” “It’s fine; it’s not like we’re running out of time” you grab a pair of shorts from the wardrobe and put them on, “let’s just cuddle and go to sleep, okay?”

Yooyeon moves to the center of the bed and taps the empty spot next to her with a grin on her face, “over here, my love—right next to me, your lovely wife.” Your wife is indeed lovely; this is a verifiable fact. You join her in bed and without any word said, she moves to rest her head on the side your chest and place a hand nearby. You hear her yawning, a sign that she’s now ready to sleep—properly this time, with her husband’s arms around her. “I love you,” she suddenly says, “I hope you know that.” You roll over and get on top of her—yes, you know that she’s not in the mood for sex and that this is a very typical sex position, but this is necessary. “I haven’t the slightest doubt in my mind that you love me and I love you back,” you say to her, your tone serious but sincere, “I love you so, so, soooo much, Kim Yooyeon.” You haven’t addressed her by name like that in a while, so she is visibly surprised.

“Please lie down again, honey,” she says, “you’re going to make me horny if you stay like this.” “I don’t see the problem,” you shrug, “just say the word and I’m yours.” Yooyeon taps your cheek gently a few times, and that’s your sign that she’s really not in the mood for it at the moment. “Maybe later, honey, but not now—you need some rest first.” You lie down in bed and pull her into your arms again. “By the way, I’m skipping work today and tomorrow, love,” you say to her, “do you want to do anything?” She yawns audibly one more time. “I don’t know yet—I’ll tell you if I have ideas.”

Yooyeon is a morning riser; she’d rather wake up early and immediately start doing whatever she needs to than sleep in and not have enough time to do things. You, on the other hand, used to have the same habit as her, but after becoming a director, you often find yourself working past your bedtime, so you compensate for the lack of sleep by sleeping in. Thankfully, your wife never makes a big deal about the difference—she has used it to her advantage on a handful of occasions, actually. Last year, she woke up before 5 a.m. to make cookies for your birthday and finished just in time before you woke up.

Today, however, after not having seen her husband in almost a week, she’s opting to stay in bed, savoring the moment of having your scent in her nose and your warmth on her skin. You slowly wake up and see that your wife is still in the same position as when you closed your eyes a few hours ago: her face is on your chest and her legs are entwined with yours. “I love you,” you whisper to her, not expecting an answer. “I love you more,” she replies, surprising you.

“Honey,” she softly calls to you, “I’m tired.” You start massaging her arm even if you’re only partially awake. “You are, love? Can I help?” Yooyeon gathers her strength and moves to lie square on your body. “Just stay like this, please.” You put a hand on her back and move it up and down, just the way she likes it.

“Honey,” she calls to you, “can I ask what we’re doing for our anniversary?” You want to open your mouth, but the urge to yawn gets to you first. “What do you think about dinner at The Sapphire, love?” Yooyeon lifts her face off your chest and looks at you with a smile. “Yes, please,” she says, “I’ve always wanted to go there.” You apologize to her for not coming up with something grand for the 6th anniversary, but she rejects it. “As long as I’m with you, I’m down for anything. Without you, all I want to do is stay in bed all day,” she says.

“Wakey, wakey, my love,” she says, poking your cheek repeatedly to get you to wake up. You slowly open your eyes and look at her in the eyes. “Am I in heaven? Are you an angel?” Your wife slaps you lightly on the chest and covers her sheepish grin with a hand. “Y-yes, I-I’m your angel,” she looks away to hide her blush, “c-can you wake up, please? It’s almost 10, love.” With a grunt, you move to a sitting position with your legs hanging off the bed. Yooyeon takes the space in your lap, straddling you and placing her palms on your nape. “Love, can—erm—can we have some fun, please? I-I’ve missed you,” she requests shyly. “Sure, honey—one second, please.”

You inhale and exhale a few times to get yourself together and ready to please your wife. “C’mon, honey,” she urges you, getting impatient, “you haven’t touched me in 10 days.” You burst out laughing. “10 days? Really?” Your wife puts on a pout. “Look at that calendar, honey,” she points at a calendar hanging next to the mirror, “I bought a new calendar to keep track of our sex life.” You look at it and see that there are indeed 10 X marks on it, from the 1st to the 10th; three of them are in black and the rest are in red. “What’s with the red and black marker?” She explains that she’ll use a red marker for when you’re not at home and a black one for when you’re at home but have no sex. “That’s interesting,” you peck her once on the lips, “are we ready, then?” “That’s my—ah!”

Yooyeon didn’t expect you to move that fast, and now she finds herself lying in bed with you hovering closely over her. Your deep gaze overwhelms her, forcing her to look to the side. “Are you okay, love?” You peck her exposed cheek gently. “Do you want to change your mind? It’s okay if you do.” She shakes her head rapidly. “Sorry, love, I just got reminded of our first time.” What a great and special time it was; the both of you had saved yourselves for marriage and was each other’s first time almost 6 years ago. “I remember how nervous you were, love,” you show her a gentle smile, “we hugged for almost an hour because you weren’t ready for it, remember?” “I’m so sorry for that, love,” she finally makes eye contact with you, “I don’t know why I was so hesitant—hell, you’re my husband, not my boyfriend.” You tell her that she has nothing to be sorry for: “even if we hadn’t had our first time right there, it would’ve been completely fine.”

“I am glad that you’re of that opinion,” she grabs your hand and places it on her thigh, “now please, let’s start, love.” You run your hand up and down her thigh for a moment, enjoying how soft it is. “I love you, Yooyeon-ah,” you refer to her the way you used to, surprising her again. “I love you too, Harvey-oppa,” she replicates the gesture, referring you to by your other name—the name your dad gave you.

You and Yooyeon always start sex by kissing (sometimes going as far as tongue-wrestling when you’re extra thirsty), and today is no different. You come in for a kiss, and your wife welcomes you warmly. She likes placing her hands on your cheeks when kissing, and you like the way her soft hands feel. “Love,” you break the kiss momentarily, “you’re so damn hot.” Yooyeon knows that she’s very attractive (there were plenty of reasons why people called her the goddess when she was in university) but sometimes, she’s too shy to admit it, and that’s where you come in: you’re the husband who will never get tired of praising her beauty—let it be known, however, that beauty isn’t all she’s about.

Your wife responds by lowering the thin shoulder straps of her nightgown, partially revealing her breasts. “Oh, I know, honey,” she winks, “you’ve told me that so many times in the past few years.” You chuckle slightly in amusement. “Sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am to be with you, love.” She gives you a fleeting kiss and tells you that the feeling is mutual, which is amazing to hear.

Yooyeon continues lowering her nightgown until her breasts are fully out in the open. You latch your mouth onto one of them and place your hand on the other, earning a mix of gasps and moans from her. “I-I wish they were bigger for you, hon,” she utters. The shock puts you to a halt. “That’s very uncalled for,” you say, your tone firm, “I didn’t marry you for your bodily assets, my dear wife.” She shuts her eyes when she feels your hand squeezing her breast. “B-but still, I—” You cut her off with a quick kiss, and while you’re there, you snake your tongue into the space in her mouth and fight her tongue.

You pull away from the embrace and pull your wife into a sitting position. You then move to sit behind her and wrap your arms around her body. “Look in the mirror, dear,” you point at the mirror that’s hanging right in front of you, “tell me what you see.” Yooyeon scans her reflection, her gaze going up and down from her head down to her toes. “I-I’m pretty,” she utters softly, “I-I look sexy right now.” You sneakily put your hand on her crotch and start rubbing her over her panties. “There you go,” you praise her, your voice gentle, “now, let’s never say such thing again, okay?” “Ah, ah—o-or what?” She dares challenge you. “Wha-what would you do if I said such thing again?” You bite the side of her neck lightly, earning a surprised yelp from her. “I will tie you to each corner of the bed and not touch you until you say sorry.”

You increase the intensity of your fingers’ movement on her crotch, and you notice that she’s starting to wet her panties. “H-honey,” she calls to you, “c-can I take off my panties, please?” You don’t answer her, and instead, you start rubbing more aggressively. “Oh, oh, oh,” she’s letting out moans freely, “y-you’ll make me cum, honey.” You started doing this to warm her up, but if she wants to cum, then she’s free to do so—in fact, you’ll gladly make her cum.

She uses one hand to hold your hand that’s busy stimulating her and while the other reaches for your nape. She then leans back against your chest and hands over the control of her pleasure to you—submissive as always. “Honey, please—oh, God, please, that’s so good, honey.” You can tell that she’s enjoying this; not only is she moaning freely, but she’s also rolling her hips around. “P-please, take off my panties—I’m begging you.” She sounds desperate enough for it, so you grab the waistband and pull down her panties recklessly, not worried about whether it’s properly off or not.

Yooyeon screams from the top of her lungs when your fingers are directly on her nub, finally getting what she’s been begging for. “Yes, yes, like that, hon,” she eggs you on, “please, please!” You put your mouth close to her ear and lick it, adding a dose of tease to the stimulation. “Cum for me, baby,” you whisper in a low voice, “cum for your husband like the good wife that you are.” To increase your chance of making her cum, you place your other hand on her left breast, alternating between massaging and tugging it.

Your wife lets out a very loud scream and lifts her butt of the bed as juice gushes out of her core—that’s her first orgasm in 10 days (because she doesn’t touch herself, ever), all thanks to you. You remove your hand from her crotch and place it on her stomach, gently rubbing it as she rides the high of orgasm, moaning oh-so-sensually as she does. “Good, baby, good,” you praise her, “such a good wife, aren’t you?” You notice that your wife is getting limp, so you lean backwards against the headrest so that she can lean against your body more comfortably.

“Oppa,” she calls to you, still weak, “thank you so much—I love you.” You peck her cheek from the side and tell her that you love her more. “How are you feeling, love?” Yooyeon takes a deep breath to compose herself. “I feel great,” she sighs, “you don’t know how desperate I’ve been, hon.” She takes off her nightgown and tosses it onto the floor, she then does the same with her panties. “That’s much better,” she says.

You spend a few more minutes just chilling; your wife’s heartbeat has returned to its normal pace, and she is now calm and collected, just like she usually is. That is, until she’s reminded of something: “honey, what about you?” You didn’t know that you were drifting to sleep again. “Huh? What about me?” Yooyeon slaps your thigh lightly, mildly annoyed. “Get your head in the game, hubby,” she says, “you haven’t cum yet.” You let out a yawn first before responding. “That’s where you come in, no?” Yooyeon turns her head to peck you quickly. “Of course, I’m your wife.”

With a small grunt, your wife moves away from your body and gets on her hands and knees in between your legs, your cock pointing right at her face. “May I, honey?” You give her your approval in the form of a nod, and she starts moving her head closer to your tip. Without breaking eye contact, she parts her lips and takes you in her mouth. “That’s good, love,” you put a hand on the back of her head and pet her gently, “you’ve gotten so good at this, haven’t you?”

It's not an empty praise; Yooyeon from 6 years ago wouldn’t even touch your penis, let alone put it in her mouth. It took her almost two years to muster up the courage to give you head—shout out to Kotone, your friend Yunho’s wife, who convinced her to try it. You still remember the first time she took you in her mouth. It happened around a week before your 2nd anniversary. She had her lips as far apart as possible and slowly moved her mouth along your length, gagging multiple times in the process. Fast forward a few years later, and she’s now much better at it. She’ll even give you head when she’s either not in the mood for regular sex, or when she’s having her period. She’s turned out to be crazy like that—she just needs a little push sometimes.

Your wife notices that you’re not paying full attention to her (because you were too busy recollecting the past), so she bites your shaft slightly to retaliate. “Fuck!” You let out a profanity when you feel it. “You didn’t have to do that, love.” Your wife removes you from her mouth and pouts. “If you’re not paying attention then I don’t want to do it.” You take a deep breath and apologize. “But do you know what was in my head?” She tilts her head in confusion, so you explain to her that the memories of your first time getting a blowjob from her were returning to you and that you were deep into reminiscing it. “Really?” “You know I wouldn’t lie about such thing, love,” you defend yourself.

Satisfied with the exchange, Yooyeon returns to the task at hand and takes you in her mouth again. This time, to make sure that she knows that you’re paying attention, you maintain eye contact with her, only breaking it when it’s impossible for her to look at you because she’s too far down your shaft. “That’s good, love,” you praise her with pets on the head, “keep going, please.” Your wife winks at you and starts going along your length faster, and there’s no better way to egg her on other than throwing praises at her.

You don’t know how many times praises have escaped your lips, but it matters little; your wife likes hearing praises and doesn’t care if they’re repetitive. “Love, I don’t think I can last long,” you announce, a hint of sadness in your voice because you don’t want this to end so soon. Your wife removes you from her mouth, looks at you straight in the eyes, and whispers, “give me your cum, honey.” You nod, and she returns to her previous position.

You wait until she takes you in her mouth again. Once she does, you palm the back of her head and force her down your shaft. Unready, your wife gags instantly, and you can feel your arousal peaking thanks to the sound. “Be good, love.” You use this final stretch to fuck her mouth—nothing too rough, though; you don’t want to hurt your lovely wife.

“God, fuck,” are all you can come up with right now, as the wetness of her mouth proves to be very pleasurable for you. “Love, I really can’t hold on,” you announce again. Just before you blow, you retreat from her mouth. “Oh, God—fuck.” You close your eyes and ride the high of your orgasm as your cock sprays semen onto your wife’s face. In the meantime, your wife grabs your cock and strokes it, trying to get every last drop of semen out of your system. “Mm, mm-hmm,” she mumbles, “that’s it, honey—give me everything.”

When you open your eyes, you’re met with the sight of your wife, whose smiling face is covered in cum. “Thank you, dear,” you don’t forget to thank her, “I’ve needed that so bad.” Yooyeon takes a bit of cum in her fingers and licks it. “Should’ve released in my mouth, but it’s fine,” she says. She probably just realizes how naughty she sounds, as she looks away to cope with the heat on her cheeks. You chuckle at her. “I know how naughty you are, honey; we’ve spent enough time together.” You peck her hair, precisely on the spot that’s not covered in cum. “Let’s get you cleaned up, love.”

After getting cleaned up with your wife, you take her to sit on the sofa. She turns on the TV and begins scrolling through Netflix to find something to watch, while you sit on the other side of the sofa and pull out your phone to catch up with work. “Ah, what am I doing—my husband is literally next to me.”

She turns off the TV and moves to sit on your lap. You ask if you can help her with anything, your eyes still locked on your phone. Yooyeon reaches for your phone and slowly takes it from your hands. “Love, I’m here,” she says, “can I have your attention, please?” You show her a loving smile and kindly ask her to hand the phone back. “Let me text Jeon Yunho one time, love,” you say, opening your palm to receive your phone, “you’ll have my attention after that, I promise.” She looks particularly sad hearing you say that, but you do need to text Yunho; you need his help to make a reservation at The Sapphire, and for reasons you don’t know, he has exclusive access when it comes to making reservations at these fancy places.

After sending the text, you put your phone on the sofa and turn your attention to your wife. “Sorry, love,” you take her hands in yours, “I need help making a reservation for our anniversary.” Your wife shakes her head and tells you that it’s fine. As you’re about to open your mouth to say the next sentence, your phone rings. Based on the ringtone, it’s one of the important people in your life. You can tell that your wife is quite unhappy about getting interrupted, so you apologize to her, even if it’s not your fault. “It’s your mom, love,” you inform her, “one second, please.”

“Hello, this is Harvey,” you greet your mother-in-law, “you’re on speaker, mama.”

“Hello, Harvey”

“Can I help you, ma? Do you need anything?”

“I tried calling Yooyeon-ie but she didn’t pick up—where is she?”

Hearing that, Yooyeon jumps off your lap and runs to the bedroom to find her phone.

“Oh, she’s home with me—she just doesn’t have her phone on her. Is there anything you want to say to her?”

“No, not really. I just wanted to say congratulations—you’re celebrating your 6th anniversary soon, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we are. I’m taking her to dinner this Thursday evening to celebrate,” you reveal your plan to her.

“Sounds great,” she says, “have you thought about getting her pregnant yet?”

The timing couldn’t get any better; Yooyeon was on her way back to you when her mom said that. You notice that she’s looking at you with a flat face that you can’t decipher.

“Erm,” you try to find an answer to the question, “we haven’t talked much about that, actually. We, uh, we’ll talk about that one day.”

“Is it you or her that doesn’t want to have children?”

You see Yooyeon pointing at herself, indirectly asking you to make her take the blame, but you can’t do that—you’re not throwing your wife under the bus, ever.

“It’s not that we don’t want children, ma. It’s just that we haven’t talked about it that much,” you deflect, defending yourself and your wife.

“Fine,” your mother-in-law gives up with little fight, “if you need help convincing my daughter to get pregnant, just call me—talk to you again soon, Harvey”

“See you soon, mama—stay healthy, please.”

You hang up the call and look at your wife. “Love, come here, please,” you tap your lap a few times. Instead of sitting on your lap like before, she gets down on her knees in front of you. “Love? Are you okay?” You’re unsure of her intentions. “F-forgive me, my love, b-but I’m not ready to have children yet,” she says while looking down at the carpet, “please don’t divorce me for that—please, tell me that everything is okay.” There’s no way you’d divorce your wife for not wanting a child, and you make it clear to her that it’d never happen: “I won’t leave you for that, love—trust me. I’m sure you have good reasons as to why you don’t want to have children, and whatever it is, I’m willing to accept it.”

Your wife slowly shifts her gaze upwards, and when you make eye contact with her, you show her a gentle smile. You tap your thighs again. “Come here, my love.” She slowly gets on her feet and moves to sit on your lap. She then hugs you and leans against your chest.

“Am I a bad wife, hon?”

“No, you’re not—please don’t say such thing,” you say, “you’ve been the best wife I could ever ask for.”

“Am I a bad daughter, perhaps? Am I letting my parents down?”

“No, you’re not—please don’t say such thing,” you repeat, “with respect to your parents, love, this life is ours, not theirs. We get to decide what to do, don’t we?”

Yooyeon stays silent, but you’re not satisfied until you get an answer. “Answer me, love.”

“Y-yes,” she says, “yes, we do.”

“Ding-ding-ding, that’s the correct answer,” you reward her with a peck on the head, “let me worry about your parents, love; I’ll tell them that it’s my choice to not have children, okay?”

Feeling satisfied with the exchange, Yooyeon thanks you. “I love you, oppa,” she says, her voice soft, “I love you so much.” “I love you more, baby.”

You notice that a text just came to your phone. “Yunho needs some time to make a reservation for us, love,” you say, “if he’s successful—he should be, honestly—then we can go to The Sapphire on Thursday evening, just like we’ve planned.” “Great,” she says, a hint of excitement in her voice, “I can’t wait, love.”

Before you know it, it’s now Thursday. You want to take Yooyeon on a little breakfast date today, so last night, you set up 3 alarms 15 minutes apart from each other to make sure you can wake up on time. When you wake up, though, she’s not in bed with you—even with alarms, you can’t beat her at waking up early; she’s just too good at it.

You collect yourself and start walking out of the bedroom. Your wife hears your heavy, sleepy steps from the kitchen. “Good morning, my love,” she greets you from the kitchen with a cup of (presumably) tea in her hands. You take the cup from her hands and put it on the counter. You then turn her around and hug her from behind, sinking your face in her hair. “Good morning,” you greet her back, “happy anniversary, wifey.” “Happy anniversary to you as well, hubby.” You’re not sure if she said Harvey or hubby—her accent makes those two words sound similar. You ask to make sure, “did you say Harvey or hubby?” “Yes,” she giggles, “it works either way, no?” True, it does work.

You hand your wife her cup again and let go of the hug. She asks if you’d like to have some tea, but you decline. “Let’s have breakfast out, love,” you say. “Sure,” she replies. She turns around with a smile on her face and points at the sofa. “Can we sit there, hon?” “We sure can, lovely.”

You sit on the sofa and your wife takes her favorite position on your lap. “My love, my honey, my world,” you call to her, “thank you for staying by my side all these years. I’m very thankful for you, love.” Yooyeon still gets shy whenever you praise her, which is cute, really. “Oh my God,” she covers her red face, “you’re always so sweet to me, honey.” She takes a deep breath and looks at you in the eyes. “I-I’m also thankful for you.” Her gaze stays strong and does not stray away from yours. “You’ve been the best husband I could ever ask for—I love you so much.”

After a quick kiss, Yooyeon tells you to take a shower. You lift her up and take her to the bathroom with you. “Ah, are we showering together?” She asks. You slap yourself internally for not asking first. “Oh, sorry, do you not want to?” “It’s not that,” she says, “it’s just that showering together takes longer.” That’s a valid point: “alright, you go first—I’ll wait for you on the sofa.” You lower her in front of the bathroom and turn around to walk towards the sofa again, but she stops you. “Look at me, please.” Your wife takes off her nightgown and shows you her nude form, and you notice that you’re getting hard—she probably notices it, too. Your eyes roam on her body, looking at her from top to bottom. “You look good, love—you always do,” you praise her, holding back your drool, “now go take a shower, please.” She mutters a soft thank you as she disappears behind the bathroom door.

After taking a shower yourself, you’re now ready to get breakfast with your wife. She says she wants to take a ride on the motorcycle, citing that she’s missed hugging you from behind while you ride around the city with her. She’s dressed for it, so you have no reason to say no, so here you are: riding around the city with your wife on the passenger seat, hugging you from behind as she wishes.

You arrive at her preferred breakfast spot after a short ride on Bob, your motorcycle, and your wife immediately jumps off in excitement—she’s so excited that she forgets that she still has her helmet on. “Not so fast, love,” you call to her via the intercom, “come here, let me take off your helmet.” She turns around comedically, and you can see her eye smile through the clear visor. You reach for the latch and lift the helmet off her head, making a small mess of her hair. She tidies it as much as she can, and you finish it by tucking a stray hair behind her ear. You then proceed to take off your helmet and walk with her inside the restaurant.

Yooyeon says that she’s been craving Singaporean-style butter toast, so she orders not one, but two toasts for herself—she even stutters when ordering, feeling embarrassed by herself. You, on the other hand, aren’t too interested in toasts, so you opt for congee with char siu beef, because congee in the morning is just too good to miss out on. After ordering, you find a table to sit at and talk to kill time.

Your wife pulls out her phone from her pocket. “Honey, your brother just texted me,” she says. “Which one?” You ask because you have twin little brothers. She scratches her head as she tries to remember his name. “Uh, erm, Jaehyun-ie—whatever his other name is.” You chuckle slightly. “Shane,” you remind her, “it’s Shane.” She puts on a grin as she nods. “Anyway,” she returns to the subject, “he said congratulations on the anniversary, and that he hopes to propose to Jiwoo by next month.” You’re glad that things are working out for your brother and his girlfriend; he’s a nice person and she’s an even better person. You tell your wife to thank him for the congratulations. “Also, tell him that I wish him a happy life with his girlfriend,” you add. “Alri—oh, he’s calling us, hon.”

Before she picks up the call, she moves to sit next to you. “It’s a video call, hon,” she says as she aims her front camera at the two of you, “I’m picking up in 3, 2, 1.”

“Hey, guys,” you greet Shane and his girlfriend, “good morning!”

“Good morning, hyung and noona,” he says, “congratulations on the 6th anniversary, guys. We wish you eternal happiness.”

“Thank you, Shane,” you put on a thumbs-up, “how are you guys doing?”

His girlfriend takes the turn to speak, “we’ve been very good, oppa. I know we’re not married yet, but our 2nd anniversary is around the corner.”

You put on a big smile, in approval of their relationship. “Ask Shane to take you on a dinner, Jiwoo-yah; I’m sure he has the money for it.”

You then turn to your wife and hand the talking stick over to her. As soon as she starts talking to them, you see a waiter walking towards you with a tray full of food in his hands. You help him place the bowls on the table and ask Yooyeon to show them the food. “Yah, look at this,” Yooyeon switches to her rear camera and aims it at the food, “you guys want to join us?” Through the video call, you see Jiwoo slapping Shane’s thigh repeatedly. “Ahhhh, unnieeee,” Jiwoo whines cutely, “that’s Morningside, isn’t it? Oh my God, I’ve missed Morningside!” Jiwoo turns to Shane and whispers something to him, and he responds with a nod—they probably just set their next date. “We’ll join you next time, unnie,” Jiwoo says with an eye smile on her face, “we have other things to do today.”

After a few more minutes of conversation, they’re now ready to end the call. “Harvey-oppa, Yooyeon-unnie,” Jiwoo says, her tone sweet and sincere, “congratulations on the anniversary, seriously. I hope me and oppa get to live happily together like the two of you.” You and Yooyeon thank her for the kind words, and after exchanging waves, they end the video call. “Love, text Shane for me, please,” you say as you sprinkle pepper into your congee, “tell him to visit us this Saturday for Jack-in-the-box.” She asks what it means, but you deflect: “he’ll know, love, don’t worry.”

“Let’s get changed, love,” you poke your wife, who is scrolling mindlessly through social media, “we need to leave soon.” She puts her phone down on the bed and moves to sit on your lap. “I have something special for tonight, hon; I hope you like it,” she says. “I’d say the chance of me liking it close to 100%,” you peck her on the lips, “get off me, please, love.”

Your wife returns the peck before jumping off your body, and in turn, the bed—and you follow suit after her. Based on how her face is decorated with a grin and pink cheeks, you can tell that she’s excited to show you what surprise she has up her sleeve. “Come oooon, get out of here!” She fixes her hands on your back and pushes you out of the bedroom.

You walk towards the spare bedroom that was turned into a walk-in closet a few years ago to find something nice to wear. You estimate that Yooyeon will be wearing a dress, but it’s the color of said dress that is the question. So, to anticipate, you grab some sets of jackets and trousers of different colors: navy, light grey, and dark blue. Along with them, you also grab a black shirt and a white shirt. “Do I need to wear a tie?” You tap your chin as you think about it. “Eh, probably not,” you decide, “I’m not in the mood." You then proceed to unlock your phone and say, “hey, Nudle, choose a number between 1 and 3.” After a short animation, the AI voice assistant picks 1. “Navy blue, it is.”

You quickly get rid of your T-shirt and shorts and let them pile on the floor. You then take the white shirt off its hanger and put it on. Before you put on your suit, you take a quick sniff to make sure it doesn’t smell when it’s being stored, and thankfully for you, it doesn't. “Oh, perfume—how did I forget.” You unbutton your shirt again and spray your wife’s favorite perfume on your belly button, chest, armpits, and nape. You continue dressing up and stand in front of the mirror to make sure everything is nice and tidy. “Heh, I look good,” you praise yourself, “no wonder Yooyeon-ie fell for me.”

After getting dressed up, you walk towards the bedroom and knock on the door. “Are we ready, love?” The door slowly swings open, revealing your wife, who is dressed in a fancy black sleeveless dress—she’s also wearing the necklace you bought for her. “Goodness me,” you feel your breath get taken away, “you look incredible, love.” Yooyeon reveals that she bought it when she went out with Kotone yesterday afternoon while you and Yunho played tennis.

“You like it, hon? I bought it specifically for tonight.” That’s an unnecessary question, isn’t it? “Of course, I do, love,” you scan her from top to bottom, “my God, aren’t you God’s most beautiful creation.” She smiles oh-so-beautifully thanks to your praise, and she rewards you with a peck on the lips. “Come on, hon,” she says, “I have a feeling that we’ll start getting horny if we don’t leave now.”

A staff member of The Sapphire greets you at the front door and asks, “are you here for a reservation?” You say yes and tell him your name, and after looking at his list, he turns to you again with a smile. “Follow me, please, sir and madam.” Your wife wraps an arm around yours as the two of you follow the staff into the restaurant to be taken to your table.

You follow him up the fancy stairs and onto the second floor, where a table costs more than any other part of the restaurant thanks to the privacy it offers. “I should thank Yunho for this,” you think. The staff stops at a table in the corner and politely points at it. “Would you like to have wine or champagne, sir and madam?” You decline politely, telling him that you and Yooyeon stopped drinking years ago—you’d like to have water in its place. “Of course, sir,” he says, “your course will start soon; please kindly wait.”

You show the staff a kind smile as he starts walking away, leaving you alone with your wife. “Love,” Yooyeon places her hands in the middle of the table, “thank you for taking me here—I love you.” You hold her hands and rub the back of them with your thumbs. “I love you more, love,” you say, “happy anniversary.” “Happy anniversary to you, too.” Your wife smiles at you lovingly, and you notice the way her eyes are glassy from unreleased tears.

“Love, listen to me, please,” you take a deep breath before saying your next point. “I know that sometimes I spend too much time working and come home very late but believe me that everything I do is out of love for you—you matter the most to me, love, and it’s been an honor for me to be able to provide for the two of us like this.” You don’t know what made you say that, but it just feels right at the moment. “I know,” her voice trembles from the emotions, “believe me, I know.” She pulls out a handkerchief from her purse and wipes a tear with it. “I always pray for you when you’re not at home, and when you are, I always want to show you how much I love you,” she adds.

You can tell that she wants to kiss you, but this round table is in the way. There’s no one else on this floor, so you summon her to you so that you can kiss her. She sits sideways on your lap—because her dress doesn’t allow her to sit like she usually does—and kisses you passionately, screaming at you how much she loves you. “I will always love you, Harvey,” she says, her eyes still glassy. “Did you say Harvey or hubby?” You crack a little joke to lighten the mood, earning a laugh from your wife. “Go back to your seat, love; the food will be here soon.”

“What are we having, honey?” Yooyeon asks. “Yunho showed me a list and here are the things I chose—you ready?” Before you can say the first thing, your wife shows you an open palm to halt you. “That’s alright, hon; I’m sure the server will tell us what we’re eating,” she says. You burst out laughing as a response. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You didn’t have to wait long until the first dish was brought out to your table. “These are the sea scallops with avocado, frisée, and key lime vinaigrette, sir and madam.” A server sets two small plates on your table while another server pours water into your glasses. “Please enjoy, sir and madam; we are glad to have you with us tonight.”

After the servers leave your table, you raise your glass. “Together always, in joy and in sorrow, for better or for worse,” you say. Your wife repeats the line and clinks her glass with yours. “I will never get tired of saying that line,” she says, “now, shall we?” Yes, we shall—let’s stop talking and start eating, hey? It’s what the two of you came here for.

You’re now back at home after a few hours of dinner. You sit on the sofa without changing your clothes, because you can’t be bothered to do so just yet. “Wait here, hon,” your wife enters the bedroom, presumably to get something she wants to show you.

She comes out of the bedroom while hugging a photo album. “Oppa,” she calls to you, “would you be down to go down the memory lane?” You nod, “sure, come and sit next to me, love.” She waddles cutely towards you, her face decorated with a beautiful eye smile and an adorable grin.

“First thing first,” she says as she opens the album, “your love letter to me, which you sent via Shane.” You feel your cheeks getting hot; you had Shane go to the post office and send a letter you had written to Yooyeon, in it a love confession and an invitation to dinner—the mail was under his name, too. “I wonder if Shane wrote Jiwoo a love confession like his brother did to me,” Yooyeon piles on. “Do you remember what you wrote, by the way?” You nod. “Of course I do—how can I forget? That was my last attempt at courting you.”

The letter went a little bit like this:

“Dear Miss Kim Yooyeon,

I’ve been meaning to share with you the thing that has been on my mind for quite some time.

From the moment we met, I felt attracted to you in a way that I couldn’t describe. Your sweetness, your sharpness of mind, and the way you perceive things around you have captivated me in ways that I never expected. In the short conversations we’ve shared, I found myself longing for the next one, and the next one, and the one after that. I eventually realized that there was something deeper than just mere excitement or admiration—it’s love.

With this letter, I would like to be honest and let you know that I cherish and treasure you more than words can express. Your presence in my life, despite being minimal (for now), has brought me so much joy and excitement, and I can’t help but think of a future together, where we share more memories, more laughs, and more dreams.

With that in mind, I would like to have the chance to spend more time with you in a special way. Would you like to join me for dinner? My family has a special place we often go to together, and I think that it would be such a great honor if you could be my guest. Perhaps we will be able to talk more about us and see how we might proceed from here.

Kindly let me know if you’re free next weekend and interested in this. Please understand that I want you to know how much you mean to me, and I look forward to hearing from you.

With affection and respect,

Han ‘Harvey’ Hyunjin.”

“I was so confused why you wrote your name like this,” Yooyeon says, placing a finger on your name, “I had always known you as Harvey.” You chuckle in response. “You’re not the first person to say that, love.”

Yooyeon then moves on to the picture on the first page. “Florence, honey.” She shows you a selfie of the two of you eating gelato while sitting on a bench. You sigh as you carefully tread the lane of memory. “We had fought a few days before we left for Florence, hadn’t we, love?” Your wife lets out a sigh too. “I saw a piece of paper on the kitchen counter, and I thought that was our divorce paper,” she says, “imagine my surprise when I found out that it was our plane ticket.” You wrap an arm around your wife and softly say, “I’m so sorry for that, love; I was so self-centered and didn’t take your feelings into account.” “It’s okay,” she pecks the side of your face, “I think we’ve learned a lot since that.”

“Next,” she looks at the other side of the page, “moving into this house.” The price of the house had gone up a few weeks prior, forcing you to sell your cars so that you could afford it. “You could’ve taken my money and kept the cars, you know,” your wife says, a hint of regret in her voice. “But that was your life savings, love; I couldn’t bring myself to take it,” you reason. “I know, but still, I wouldn’t have had a problem with that,” she counters.

She bursts out laughing when she sees the first picture on the next page. “Oh my God, I remember this like it was yesterday,” she points at the picture of her getting licked by a camel in Dubai. You join her in laughing as you recall the memory. “You were so startled that you fell backwards—if you hadn’t worn jeans back then, the camel guy would’ve seen your panties.” Yooyeon covers her face and shakes her head. “God, it was so close to being disastrous.” Aside from the photo, you also have a video on your phone of her sliding down a sand hill on a sled while screaming from the top of her lungs, which is both very funny and memorable.

Her smile fades instantly when she sees the picture placed on the 4th page—it’s a picture of you bearing your uncle’s pall with your twin brothers and dad, taken by Yooyeon from a distance. “Your uncle, hon,” she says, sadness woven in her voice. Your mom’s older brother passed away from cardiac arrest in the middle of the night, right when you were having sex to celebrate your 4th anniversary. You remember stopping abruptly when you heard the news through your smartwatch, thus ruining your and her mood. “What went through your head when we had to stop, love?” You ask, trying to understand what it was like for her. “Please don’t get mad, but initially I was so unhappy,” she says, “I had been so desperate for your touch, but then we had to end awkwardly like that.” You peck her head as a gesture of apology. “I’m sorry about that, love, but I’m sure you know what he meant for us.”

You move on to the final page of the album, which has two pictures on it. Placed on the top is a picture of Yooyeon holding a plate full of cookies with you sleeping in the background. Underneath that is a group selfie of you, Yooyeon, Shane, Jiwoo, and Shaun who was holding the phone (he was single at the time), taken after dinner at your house. Jiwoo made scones and they were so good that Yooyeon asked her to make one more batch before letting her leave. Jiwoo and Shaun ended up staying the night at your house because it was so late by the time she was done.

“Did you hear Jiwoo’s moans, by the way?” Your wife’s question stuns you momentarily. “Excuse me?” “Oh, you must’ve been asleep,” she chuckles, “I heard them when I was on my way to the toilet, and all I’m going to say is that Shane must be good at sex, just like his older brother.” “Shane, you—oh, my fucking God!” You palm your forehead, unsure of what to make of this information. You certainly did not need to know that your little brother was smashing his girlfriend while staying at your house. “Well, at least Shane and Jiwoo were happy,” you think.

“Speaking of moaning,” your wife moves to sit on your lap, “you haven’t made me moan yet—it’s time to rectify that, don’t you think?” You burst out laughing, amused by her stunt. Yooyeon from 5 to 6 years ago would beat around the bush whenever she wanted sex, but nowadays, she’ll say the craziest things to get you to touch her. “I never thought you’d be so crazy, love,” you say. “Can we start now, please? I-I’m impatient,” she says, her cheeks hot.

Your wife doesn’t want to have sex outside the bedroom, and as boring as it is sometimes, you don’t want to go against her wishes. With that in mind, you carry your wife by her butt to the bedroom. On the way there, you notice that her breathing is getting faster, so you rush to the bedroom and promptly sit on the edge of the bed.

“Love, are you okay?” You ask, concerned about how her heart is racing for seemingly no reason. She takes a deep breath before answering. “I-I have a feeling that I’m fertile today, a-and you might make me pregnant if you… y’know.” “Do you want to get pregnant, love?” She stays silent for a little while as she thinks of an answer—only to end up returning the question to you. “D-do you want me to get pregnant, honey?” “No, no, no, it doesn’t work like that,” you deflect, “this isn’t just about me, love; if you don’t want to get pregnant, then we’re not getting you pregnant.” She takes another moment of silence as she thinks about her options. “Don’t worry about your parents, love; this life is ours, not theirs, and we get to make our own choices,” you assure her. “Okay,” she says, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to get pregnant—not yet at least.” You assure her again that she has nothing to be sorry for and that you’ll never let anyone press your wife into getting pregnant.

“I love you,” she says, seemingly out of nowhere, “thank you for everything, honey.” You want to say it back to her, but you think that it’s better to kiss her instead. Without breaking the kiss, your wife holds your hand and guides it to the zipper on her back, signaling to you that she wants to undress. With little effort, you manage to unzip her dress all the way down and sneak your hand inside to feel her soft skin. She abruptly breaks the kiss and jumps off your lap. You ask if she’s okay, and she responds by putting on a sexy smile and turns her back against you.

You keep an eye on your wife as she wiggles her body around, and would you look at that: her dress falls off swiftly with little effort and pools around her feet, revealing her strapless bra and matching panties. She turns her head to the side just enough to see you wiping drool from the corners of your lips. “You’re never going to get tired of me, are you?” “No, I’m not,” you say, “have you seen yourself? Do you need to look in the mirror again?” Satisfied with the exchange, she turns around and kneels in between your legs. “What are we waiting for then?”

You can hear the machine-like hum from the AC, so you know that the only reason it’s getting so hot in this bedroom is because of your arousal. With your wife still kneeling on the floor in front of you, you free yourself from the constraints that are your jacket and shirt, and you see that your wife is smiling at you. You’re struggling to decide if her smile is sexy or beautiful, though—you know you like it, that’s for sure.

“Would you like to do the honors?” You offer your wife the chance to take off your pants. Without saying a word, she unbuckles your belt and unzips your pants. “May I?” How cute is it that she’s still asking for permission in this position? “Yes, love, you may,” you say. She puts her hands on the inside of the waistband and makes sure that she’s also grabbing your boxers. She gives you one more look and you respond with a nod. With a grunt, Yooyeon pulls your pants and boxers down, thus freeing your cock from its constraints.

She starts stroking your shaft, admiring the length and stiffness. “Wow,” she utters, “it’s crazy how it fits in my body every single time.” It seems like she said it without thinking, judging by how she jolts a little after. “Anyway,” she chuckles, “here I go.” Your wife parts her lips and eases you into her mouth—nothing too crazy for now; she’s not rushing to take you deep right away. That said, it’s still very pleasant for you. You place a hand on her head and pet her gently, praising her for the good work and encouraging her to keep going. “Yes, love,” you say, “that’s very good, baby.”

She does love hearing praises (especially from you) but at the same time, they make her get overexcited sometimes, so you keep an eye on her and make sure that she won’t end up hurting herself while sucking your cock. “Ghlk!” Well, speak of the devil; she just choked on your shaft. “Easy, love, easy; there’s no need to rush,” you try to calm her down—alas, it doesn’t seem to work. In the moment of panic, your wife stumbles backwards, thus removing you from her mouth, and starts coughing. You pick her up from the floor and make her sit on your lap. “It’s okay, love—it’s okay,” you rub her chest gently, “you’re okay, you’re okay. Let’s calm down for a second, yeah?”

After catching her breath, she’s now able to function properly again. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I-I got excited because you praised me.” “I had a feeling that’d happen,” you peck her on the lips once, “thank you for trying, love.” Yooyeon accepts your thanks with a smile, which makes you smile yourself.

You move to the middle of the bed with her, and that’s when she says that she’s ready to continue. “C-can we try something?” She asks, and you swear that you can see a floating bulb over her head. “We sure can, love; tell me what you need from me,” you say. First of all, she asks that you let her go and lie on your back, which is very easy to do. She then moves to sit on your lap and tells you the next part. “I will ride you like this, hon, but you can’t touch me at all,” she says as she takes off her panties, tossing it over her head after. “That sounds difficult, love—are you sure you’re not asking too much from me?” She lets out a laugh at your joke. “That’s your challenge, hon; do that and I’ll make sure it’s worth your while,” she promises, “now, hands above your head, please.”

You do as she asks and put your hands on the bed above your head. “I’m all yours, baby,” you hand over the controls to her. “That’s usually my line, is it not?” With your cock in her hand, she guides it towards her entrance and slowly takes you in. “Oh, God, this will never get old,” she says. It feels odd to not have your hands on her, but you’re committed to completing the challenge. Your wife maintains eye contact with you as she starts rolling her hips back and forth, basking in the sensation of being stretched by your girth. “S-struggling, hon?” “Yeah, and so are you,” you say, “I know—” Yooyeon cuts you off with a slap on the cheek. “Quiet, you; I’m calling the shots today.”

“Fuck, that’s naughty,” you think to yourself. You’re not offended or turned off by the little act of violence—it arouses you more, in fact; you’re as hard as you can get in her tight core right now. “I’m yours, mistress,” you rile her up by playing submissive. “Damn right you are,” she puts on a naughty smirk. She leans forward to hold your wrists down and she’s far enough forward that her tits are within licking range. “Be a good boy and make me cum, will you?”

After getting a nod from you, she starts fucking herself on your cock, going up and down at her own pace. It’s cute to see that she’s moaning so freely despite her tough and dominant front. On the other hand, you’re having so much fun right now; your wife is taking control after being submissive for countless sessions over the years, and you seriously hope that this isn’t just a one-time thing.

You notice that she’s starting to slow down and showing signs of exhaustion. “Is that all you have, mistress? All that talk and you’re tired already?” You taunt her, hoping that it’ll trigger her into speeding up again. “Fuck you,” she snarks, “fuck, this is harder than I thought.” You lift your head off the pillow just enough for your mouth to reach her tits and bite a nipple lightly. “You’re such a naughty boy, aren’t you—oh, fuck, fuck!” You put on a teasing smirk, “what are you going to do about it, mistress?”

The teasing proves to somewhat work—she makes a move for your exposed neck and bites you lightly, making her annoyance at your disobedience known. “Apologize,” she demands, “you don’t want to get hurt, do you?” “N-no,” you adhere to her demand, “I-I’m sorry, mistress.” She pecks you on the lips, satisfied with your apology. “That’s a good boy.”

Your wife fixes her lips on your neck and starts moving her hips again, squeezing you with her tightness, and you can’t help but let out low-pitched moans right into her ears. You notice that she starts sucking on your neck harder. “Mark me, mistress,” you egg her on, “show everyone I’m yours.” Thankfully for you, she’s good at multitasking; not only is she trying her hardest to plant hickeys on your neck, but she’s also not letting up the bounces of her hips. “You’re so good, mistress—you’re so good to me,” you praise her, and you’re starting to wonder if this is considered being submissive.

It seems like she’s finally satisfied with her work on your neck, as she retreats from it and straightens her posture—she also frees your wrists and plants her hands on your chest. “Make me cum, my dear boy,” she reminds you of your task, “please, make your mistress cum.” Her wish is your command tonight, so you do your best to thrust into her from below, making her entire body bounce in the process. Your wife seems to approve this method, as the moans she’s letting out are louder and more frequent. “Am I doing it well, mistress?” “Yes—God, yes, you are,” she says with heavy pants, “please, please, I’m so close already.”

You pick up your pace and fuck her as fast as this position allows you—all the while you’re fighting the strong urge to lay hands on your wife. “Honey, honey,” she calls to you, “I’m about to burst—oh, oh, yes!” Her announcement removes whatever sign of exhaustion from your body and instead fuels the flame of your arousal. “Come on, love,” you subconsciously drop the name, “let’s cum—let’s fucking cum now.”

With a scream, Yooyeon lifts herself off your cock and sprays her juice all over your torso—some of it even hits your face, how nice. You take some in your fingers and have a taste—hmm, interesting taste. You look at your panting wife, whose eyes are closed and lips trembling, as her orgasm takes her to the seventh heaven. You guess that you’ve completed the challenge and are now allowed to touch her, so you take her in your arms and pull her into a cuddle.

“Did I do well, mistress?” You ask teasingly, not forgetting the name. “Ve-very well,” she shows you a thumbs-up, “I am spent, hon.” You ask if she liked taking the dominant role, and she covers her face in shyness. “I-I think I liked it,” she says, “y-you were cooperative too, hon.” You pepper her face with quick pecks, overwhelming her with them. “I aim to please, my love.” She puts her hands on either side of your face and comes in for a proper kiss, and you can really feel that she loves and appreciates you. “I love you,” she affirms, “I love you so, so, so, so, so much.” “I love you so, so, so, so, so, much more,” you say, chuckling after.

You excuse yourself to get some water and your wife asks you to grab her phone from the living room while you’re at it. “A missed call from someone named Jaehoon?” You furrow your eyebrows, a hint of suspicion in your head. “Oh my God, Jaehoon-ie,” you slap your forehead as the realization hits, “that’s just Shaun.” You almost forget that your wife saves you and your brothers by your other names on her phone.

You walk into the bedroom with her phone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “Love,” you call to her, “a missed call from Jaehoon-ie.” After getting her phone back from you, Yooyeon calls Shaun back in case he has something important to say.

“Hello, noona,” he says, “were you asleep?”

“No, I wasn’t,” she looks at you with a naughty smirk, “your brother was smashing me so I couldn’t pick up the phone.”

“What the f—I didn’t need to know that, you know.”

Yooyeon hands her phone over to you, and in exchange, you hand the bottle over to her and sit on the edge of the bed.

“Yo, hello,” you take over, “what time is it in New York, Shaun?”

“Uhh,” he takes a moment of silence, probably to check his watch, “around 9 in the morning—we just had breakfast.”

“Oh, right, you’re there with Seeun-ie, aren’t you?”

As soon as you say it, you hear a woman’s laugh from Shaun’s side of the call—wait, why is your wife crawling to you?

“Hello, oppa,” Seeun greets you warmly, “good morning from New York!”

“Good morning, cookie,” you say, still keeping an eye on your wife, who is now kneeling in between your legs like earlier—she must be up to no good. “So, what did you call us for?” Shaun is giving you an answer, but your focus is directed at your wife, who’s starting to give you head. You take a deep breath to concentrate and make sure you don’t arouse suspicion from your brother and his girlfriend.

“I have a feeling that you’re not listening to me, hyung,” Shaun notices, “is noona touching you?”

Well, you’re caught—might as well open the cards for everyone to see. “Yeah, she’s sucking me off,” you reveal nonchalantly, “talk to you guys soon.”

You hear a little surprised yelp from Seeun as you’re hanging up the phone but it’s whatever; you’re all adults. “You couldn’t wait, love? Are you that impatient?” You question your wife, who’s going up and down your shaft with her mouth. She gives you a little wink, and a naughty idea enters your mind. With her phone in hand, you open the camera app and aim it at her. “Say cheese, love.” As soon as she makes eye contact with the camera, you take a picture. You show your wife the picture of her with a quarter of your shaft in her mouth. You expect her to get mad and ask you to delete it, but she doesn’t—she just lets out a giggle. “I guess that’s our entry for this year,” she says, “anyway, I’m going again—don’t disturb me, please.”

You want to say that it was Shaun who disturbed the two of you, but the way she’s wrapping her lips around your shaft stifles your tongue. “That’s really good, love,” you praise her, “remember, don’t get too excited.” Yooyeon takes a deep breath through her nose before negotiating your shaft deeper into her mouth, possibly into her throat. “Fuck, you’re crazy, love,” you comment.

You see that she’s in a halt, so you ask if she’s okay. She pulls away momentarily to take a breather and possibly say something. “I’m okay, don’t worry,” she says, “how far do you think I can take you?” “Sorry?” You can’t believe your ears. “I want to see how far down I can take you, hon, but I think I need your help—you’ll need to push my head from behind.” “If I see that you’re uncomfortable, I’m pulling out, okay?”

Once the two of you have come to an agreement, Yooyeon parts her lips again and takes you in her mouth. You let her go as far forwards as she can while making sure that she’s not in stress or danger. It’s when she reaches halfway down your shaft that she stops. “Let’s try this, love, alright?” You place a hand on the back of her head and gently push her towards your crotch. “Fuck, you’re so fucking good at this, love,” you let another praise fly out of your lips.

Yooyeon closes her eyes as more of your shaft enters her mouth, and she can feel the tip of your penis poking the back of her throat. “Stay calm, Kim Yooyeon; you can do this—do it for your precious husband”, her brain tells her. She plants her hands on your thighs as she tries her hardest to keep her jaws as wide open as she can. She tries looking up at you to find comfort, and you make sure to look her right in the eyes, smiling as you do. “You’re doing great, love—you’re so damn good at this,” you pet her head gently, not pushing her further down your shaft.

You notice that she’s getting limp, so you promptly retreat from her throat so that she can breathe. You pull her into your lap again and immediately spam her with praises. “You were so brave, love,” you say, “I admire how you’re willing to go the distance for my pleasure.” You don’t care if it sounds so self-centered, but it’s true in your opinion. “You’re my husband,” she rubs the side of your face gently, “your happiness is the top of my priority.” You thank her for that attitude, but you also assure her that she’s equally important in this relationship, and that she’s always welcome to express her desires.

“Is that so?” She asks the obvious. “Yes, that is so,” you state the obvious. “Well in that case,” she places her hand on her crotch, “you haven’t been here yet.” You ask if she wants you to wear a condom, but she firmly declines. “I’ll just take the pill after, it’s not a big issue,” she says. You ask if she wants to take control again, but she says no. “Being dominant is tiring, hon,” she says.

With that out of the way, you stand up and lower your wife onto the floor. You then turn her around and bend her over the edge of the bed. “Oh, I’m going to be so sore tomorrow,” she says, letting out a chuckle after, “well, what are you—oh, God, honey.” You cut her off by plunging your cock deep into her. “Sorry, you were saying?” You tease her, but she can’t reply because she’s too busy moaning—she also doesn’t have to put on a charade like earlier; she just simply needs to act like she usually does: submissive and obedient.

You failed to notice that your hands were on her hips the entire time, so you remove them and put them behind your back. “Oh, oh—w-what are you doing? Where—ngh—where are your hands?” Well, it seems like she does like it when your hands are on her body. “Sorry, I thought you didn’t want me to touch you,” you say jokingly, “here, let me fix that.” You place one hand on her hip and use the other to deliver a slap onto her butt, making her scream. “Like this, love?” You spank her one more time with your other hand. “Or maybe like this?”

Your wife squirms around as she tries to cope with the sting from the slap, but your big hands don’t allow her to move too much. “H-honey,” she says weakly, “s-stop hitting me, please.” You stop your thrusts momentarily to apologize and ease her pain by rubbing her butt cheeks gently. “I’m sorry, baby—was I too rough? Would you like to stop for a moment?” Seeing that she’s nodding, you retreat from her warmth and flip her onto her back. You then move her into a more comfortable position in bed, giving her the time to catch her breath and calm herself down.

After getting herself together, Yooyeon reaches her arms out, inviting you to enter her warm embrace. “To me, please,” she asks, her voice weak and quiet. You join her in bed and wrap your arms around her, not forgetting to apologize for being too rough on her. “I-I often forget how lustful you are for me,” she says. “You are my wife, love; if I’m not lustful for you, then something must be wrong with me,” you reply. It is true, though, is it not? If a man like you is married to a woman like her but isn’t interested in getting sexual with her, then that guy must be fucked in the head—and the narrator shares the same idea, too.

She stays in your arms for a few more minutes until she feels ready to go again—she begs you to not be so rough this time. “Certainly, love,” you say. You roll over so that you’re on top of your wife, and without being asked, she parts her legs and wraps them around your body. “You know,” she calls for your attention, “I always feel loved when we do it like this, oppa.” Hearing her refer to you by that term makes your heart flutter—it makes you feel like you’re 26 again, back when you were still trying to court her. “I do love you, sweetheart—I will always love you until you’re sick of me.”

She places a hand on your nape and pulls you down towards her for a kiss, and while your lips are connected with hers, you hold your cock in one hand and ease your way into her warmth again. When it first goes in, Yooyeon breaks the kiss and moans right against your lips. “I love you, Hyunjin-oppa,” she says in a soft tone, “you’re always so kind and sweet to me.” “Thank you, love; I try my hardest for you,” you replicate the soft tone, “and I love you more, Yooyeon-ah.”

You start moving your hips slowly, really savoring how warm and tight she is around your girth. “Love, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can last too long,” you say, hoping that she won’t be disappointed. “That’s fine; I don’t want to work too hard for your cum anyway,” she says. You move your head to the side and latch on her neck, and your wife’s moans get louder in response.

You can feel your cock twitching in her core, and she can feel it too. “C’mon, honey, give it to me. Give it to—oh!” With a grunt, you blow your load deep into your wife, just the way she likes it. You stay inside her and wait until all of your cum has come out of your penis. At the same time, your wife is letting out a very long moan, as your warm semen enters her body.

You’re starting to get drowsy for some reason, though. “Kim Yooyeon, I… love—”

You stir awake in the middle of the night when you hear a thud. In your half-awake state, you move your hands around, and the fact that you can’t feel your wife’s presence makes you jolt in panic.

You lift your head and see that your wife is on the floor while rubbing her knees, seemingly in pain. “Love, are you okay?” You ask, still unable to fully open your eyes. “I am, honey—ow, shit!” You ask what she’s doing, and she tells you that she was trying to get the polaroid camera from the wardrobe, but her legs were too weak, causing her to fall on her knees. “I will—” a yawn cuts you off, “I will get it for you, love.”

You gather your consciousness and get off the bed. You first help your wife and place her on the bed before heading towards the wardrobe to get the camera and film. You insert one film into the one-eyed machine and hand it over to your wife. “What are you doing with it, love?” Your wife claps her hands twice to turn on the lights and asks you to sit next to her. “Let’s take a picture, oppa; I don’t think a picture of me sucking you is appropriate to be displayed,” she says.

You chuckle in agreement with your wife. You move to sit next to her and rub your eyes to fully wake up. “Say cheese, oppa.” Yooyeon aims the camera at the two of you and presses a button. After a short while, the film comes out and she shakes it with all her might until the picture is clearly visible. “Happy anniversary, my beloved husband,” she says, love and affection woven in her voice. “Happy anniversary, my dear wife,” you reply.

After a quick kiss, you hold her hands in yours. “Together always, in joy and in sorrow, for better or for worse.” “Indeed,” she replies, “together always, until death do us part.” “Hey, that’s new—did you come up with it recently?” She slaps your chest lightly while laughing. “Come, let’s go back to sleep, oppa.”

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #triples smut #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut

320 notes · View notes

spidybaby · 1 month

Text

A trusting matter

Summary: A confession makes Kylian think you have no trust in him. Making him feel shamed and almost breaking your relationship.

Warnings: cursing, sex talk, slut shaming, sex shaming.

"What is this?"

You turn your head to where he is, finding him walking out of the bathroom. He has something in his hands, reading the back of the box.

"I don't know, what is it?" you ask him.

He tries to read what the box means, but he can't understand any of it.

"Comprimé pelliculé." he reads out loud for you. "What does that even means?"

You frown, stretching your hand to him. "Let me see."

He hands you the box, you want to laugh at him.

It was your birth control pills. He was trying to understand what the box says but the box only reference that the box contains certain amount of pills.

"It's my contraceptive pills." you smile at him, leaving the box on the nightstand next to your side of the bed. "Want to see a movie?"

He's quiet, what is a contraceptive pill? why are you taking them?

"Are you sick?" he asks, worried about it.

You shake your head, smiling at him.

"Healthy as always."

"Then why are you taking these pills?"

You chuckle, finding him adorable. "It's contraceptive, Ky."

"What's that?"

You then get why he was so worried, he doesn't understands what the pills are for.

"They are birth control." You smile.

"Birth control as in anti baby?" He asks, still confused.

You can't help but laugh at him. Thing that makes him pout. Why were you laughing at him?

"I'm not sure if >anti baby< is the right thing to say, but yes."

His mind is still confused, why were you drinking them if he's using protection every time you had sex.

"But I'm using protection." he says, not fully getting the purpose of the pills.

"Yeah, you are."

"Then why are you taking these for?"

You sigh, wondering what's inside of his head for him to be that confused.

"Condoms can break." you say. "And it also helps me with my period, it helps me with my cramps. Not only for the anti baby part." you explain to him.

You left him sitting in bed, grabbing your water bottle and walking to the kitchen. He follows you like a kid who's ready to botter their mother with questions.

"But if the condom breaks, you can take the plan b pill, don't you?"

You roll your eyes, "Yes, that's correct. But I don't want to get to that." You say, low and monotone tone. "Birth control is safer and the fail rate is less than others."

He nods, not asking more questions. He was one not to ask much about health or things like that because you were someone healthy.

"Hey, do you want some cake?" you ask him. Opening the fridge. "I have the one you like." you take the box out of your fridge, placing it on the counter.

He nods happy, accepting a piece of it. You were seated at the top of the counter, he was between your legs as you feed him the cake while jokingly pretending to do the airplane move on him.

"You got some right here." you grab a napkin, wiping the tip of his nose.

He loves spending times like these with you. Only the two of you, things you could only do from time to time due to his agenda. Especially now that he is in Madrid.

You were telling him about this series that you were watching. He was washing the dirty dishes from dinner since you made dinner. He then gets this thought.

"Hey." He says, getting your attention.

You humm, placing the leftover food back on the fridge. You were too focused to notice his mischievous grin. He walks over to you, waiting for you to close the fridge door and turn, hitting his chest in the process.

You left out a laugh when he carries you and places you back on top of the counter. Kissing your lips while his hands grip your hips.

"I was thinking." He began. "Since you are on birth control, I can stop with the condoms."

You stop smiling, looking at him with a frown.

"And it's going to be better, because it's going to be a life saver. All those times we had to stop because I didn't have any left."

He was smiling like crazy, thinking of how much your sex life was going to change with you taking birth control. It was easier, it was faster and he didn't needed to stop when he runs out of condoms.

"Kylian," you sigh, not wanting to have this conversation. "I don't want to stop using condoms."

He frowns, not understanding you.

"Wha-Why?"

You don't want to say the real reason. "I just don't." You push him a little, getting down of the counter and walking back to the room. "It's more safe if we both are protected."

"But isn't birth control enough?" He whines. "Don't you want to feel me completely?" He asks, getting closer.

He hugs you from behind, his lips on your neck, making you shiver at the sensation. He pulls you to him, making you let out a small whine.

"Stop it." You whisper.

You take his hands away from you, walking over to the bathroom to wash your teeth. You can't help but feel a little bit bad about denying him what he wants.

But you can't.

He looks at you from the door. Not understanding why you are so questionable about the topic. He tries to understand that maybe it's because you are fearing that something fails and you get pregnant.

Even if that was the case, he would be by your side with any decision you take. But since it was not the case and he doesn't really know the real reason.

"I get that you are scared, but this can be something good for us." he says, trying to open your mind to the possibilities. "And if pregnancy its what scare-"

"Kylian, please." you say, tired of the talk. "Drop it."

"I'm just saying that you don't have to worry."

"Listen, I don't want to stop using condoms, end of story."

You walk outside of the bathroom, grabbing the clothes from your bed and walking into the closet to hang them.

"I just don't understand why you are so closed to the option."

You stayed quiet, you want to drop the conversation. If only you would have known that leaving your pills there was going to cause so much commotion.

"Y/n?"

You turn your face to him, noticing how his eyes are full of doubt. You just sigh, shaking your head and continue ordering the clothes.

"So you are just going to ignore me?" he asks, mad at your attitude.

You finish, turning to see him. "Kylian, you have been with a lot of people, I haven't. Forgive me for wanting to take care for myself." you explote.

He's taken aback, what are you even meaning?

"Take care of yourself?" he asks mad. "So I'm not safe enough for you to have sex without me wearing a condom?"

"Remember when I told you that maybe doing a test to see if you were fully healthy trigger you?" you ask. "You told me that you had that when you get the medical exams at the club. I asked you that because I don't want whatever you groupies have." you scuff.

You walk out of the room, tired of him insisting on talking about it. You take a few breaths, finally getting what you just said to him. You turn, finding him walking towards his things.

"Kylian." you call.

He just lift his hand, making you shut your mouth. You just observe him pick his things. He doesn't want to say anything back, afraid of telling something wrong.

"You were insisting, I asked you to drop it." you try.

"Yeah, I should have." he says, the way his voice is so low that scares you. "But lucky me I didn't, cause I found out my girlfriend thinks I'm fucking around and that I'm going to catch something and giving it to her."

"Kylian, don't go." you say, blocking the exit. "Let's just calm down and have a conversation."

"Oh! you want to talk now?" he laughs. "Well, now I don't want to."

You watch him go out of your house. Hearing the sound of his car getting away from your property. You feel bad about what the way this conversation goes.

"But why did you even say that?" your best friend says.

You look at her like a kid whose parent is scolding.

"I asked him to stop with the conversation, and when he didn't I lashed out."

You feel the guilt of the words you say to him. You know that what you say hurted him, you know that maybe this isn't something he would forget.

"I tried everything, calling, texting, even went to his place, but he was back in Madrid." you sigh, not sure of what else to do.

Your friend tries to think about what you can do to tried to make your situation right. It's a difficult position, because you lashed out when he kept insisting on doing something you weren't comfortable about.

The thing is, you would have been comfortable, but when you asked him something you asked your last partner, he refused.

Your mother taught you that you needed to be careful when it comes to sex. She works in health care and constantly sees how girl get things because the boys they are with are also with half the city.

Hearing stories about girls being sick and having to go out of their ways to fix something their boyfriends or sex partners got them was your daily stories.

So when you asked Kylian in a not direct way, he told you that he didn't needed that, he got those test every season and every six months thanks to the club.

> "I was thinking" you say, sitting next to him on the couch. "In this biology class I'm taking, they are encouraging us to get these test to now we are healthy."

"Really? what kind?" he asks.

"Oh you know, some blood ones, some normal check out to discard any std, any sickness. And my friends and I are a little bit scared of doing it." You show him the pamphlet.

"Scared?" he asks, a little concerned about you. "Is it that invasive?" he read what the test are.

"Not sure, just you know needles. They are taking their boyfriends and I want to ask if you want to join me, maybe?"

He reads the whole thing, looking at you with a smile. "I've done these tests. They are not that bad." he says. "Don't worry, take it from me."

"Oh, you have?" you ask, smiling. "When was the last time?"

He thinks for a moment. "I think before the year started."

"That's almost eight months ago." you say. "Don't you think that it's better if you get another one?" you say, batting your eyelashes.

"No, thank you." he says. "I'll get one when I get to the medical testing in Madrid. No need for more."

"But, you will do your girlfriend a favor."

"Let me think." he says, pressing his fingers on his temples. He pretends to think about it for a moment. "No, let's go to eat." he says, kissing your temple and walking to the kitchen. <

You met Kylian only six months ago. You didn't sleep with him right away, you wanted to meet him before even think about that. You liked him too much and didn't wanted to rush things.

You know that he was someone who got girls that wanted to spend a night with him. You read news about him "hooking up" with different models or influencers.

That he was flying them to Paris, when he was in PSG. Then when he announced the moving the news were that he was moving this model from Paris with him to Madrid.

You never cared about those things, you trusted him. He was someone who was very family orientated. He prefers to spend the night with him at home than to go out.

When he asked if you wanted to become official, you were thrilled. You love spending time with him, and not to lie but the trips, the gifts and the games passes were an amazing extra thing.

"I'm going to Madrid." You say to your friend.

"You are crazy?" she asks. "What about your job?

"I mean, a signed Real Madrid jersey will do for our boss." you say, writing the email. "Also, I booked him and his mistress some tickets for Hawaii, so he better give me the time or his wife would get the email with the information." you smile at her.

When your boss asked for not one but two signed jerseys, you booked your ticket. You knew where Kylian was living, you even have a copy of his keys for emergencies.

You grab a small bag, packing only a few things. You hoped that he wanted to see you. Your friend drove you to the airport, it was not a long flight. Only two hours and a few minutes. You will survive.

To you luck, you notice how the Real Madrid instagram is posting about the players training, so you have time to think about what you will say and how you would say it.

You have a copy of the pass for the gate, so you with no problem got inside. You tried to think about the situation, mentally hitting yourself for being that mean and dumb.

You know that the two of you were wrong, he on one side for forcing the conversation on you, even when you asked him to drop it in a nice way.

And you, for basically telling him that you didn't want his rabies that he probably got from his one night stands.

You sat down in the couch, tired of overthinking the situation. You don't want to lose him, not over something like that. Even when you basically accused him of cheating.

You were so into your mind that you don't pick the sound of the door opening and closing. You just hear the voices and tense.

He wasn't alone.

"Oh hi!" a dark hair boy says, smiling. "Kylian, you didn't told us you got company, we need more drinks."

You wave at him, a little shy to say something.

"Company?" Kylian asks confused. That's when he sees you, red cheeks and awkward smile. "Hey." he says, walking towards you.

"Hey." you say. "Hi, by the way." you finally say.

"This is Vini." Kylian says, pointing at him. "Vini, this is my girlfriend. I talked to you guys about her."

You smile at him. He still refers about you like his girlfriend.

"Nice to meet you." he smiles. "I'll call Rodry, he will bring more drinks."

You look at Kylian, trying to get an explanation so you don't look too lost. "We are watching a game." he says.

You nod, feeling a little dumb because there's people there and you can't really talk with him like you wanted to.

"No need to call Rodry." you say, standing up. "I'll be upstairs, so you can have more privacy."

You give him a small smile and walk a little fast to the stairs, feeling a little embarrassed about how your plan is going. You feel a hand on your arm, making you turn.

It was Kylian, he then moves his hand from your arm to you own hand. He grabs it, walking upstairs. He leads the way, you can't keep your eyes away from him.

He can feel you sight, he feels the need to turn around. When you two are inside his room he turn around, looking at you with this neutral expression.

You wait for him to say something, but he didn't. He wanted you to start. "Hi." you say, smiling a little. You really don't know what to say.

He want to laugh, but he remembers that he's mad. So he won't do it. You feel defeated, wanting for him to smile at your awkwardness.

"How long are your friends staying?" you ask.

You don't want to talk with him when his friends are downstairs. You want to be able to have a conversation with him and two be able to express how you feel without caring. You can't do that if there's people waiting on him.

"A little bit after the game, we have training in the afternoon, so we can stay a little bit later than normal. But I can ask them to leave right after the game."

You shake your head. "No, it's okay. I can wait."

"Vini did asked Rodry for more drinks, so you kind of have to get down at some point or they will come get you." he jokes.

"Maybe after the break." you smile back. "I'll take a shower first."

He nods, smiling at you. He walks downstairs, wanting to call the night off and hear you out. He wasn't mad anymore, just a little ego hurt. But he can't be mad at you that long. Not you.

"Rodry and Jude are almost here." Vini smiles. "Is your girlfriend joining? or did I scared her when I mentioned drinks?" he asks, joking.

"She's taking a shower, she will join us in a few."

You can hear the way they are screaming and cursing at whatever is going on at the game. You laugh when you hear one of his friends saying something in a very bad french.

The laugh Kylian left out is music to your ears. You sat on the stairs, not feeling like going down. You missed him, his humor and his laugh.

"No way these motherfuckers are only giving two extra minutes." Jude yells. "That's bullshit."

"Innit" Vini laughs, making fun of Jude's accent.

The other three boys laugh, making Jude curse Vini. The game came to an end, you know because the guys criticize the way the referee did and how the coaches did.

You got up, slowly walking upstairs.

"Okay, ladies." Kylian says. "Time to go home."

"We still have drinks." Rodry says.

"My girlfriend just flew in from Paris, pardon me that I want to spend time with her and not with your asses."

You stop on your tracks, wanting to hear more. You feel your heart warming up.

He wanted to spend time with you.

"Got it, let's go, boys."

"You own us one."

"I want to be with my girlfriend now."

You walk back into his room, smiling.

You regret not talking thing with him. You know that everything was avoidable if you would've been honest from the beginning.

You sat on the bed, watching the door carefully. You can't wait any more. The ninety something minutes you spend waiting for the game to be over were killing you.

The door opens quickly. You tried to act as if you weren't waiting for it to open. Earning a chuckle from you boyfriend. You feel the heat in your face, embarrassed of him discovering you.

He closes the door, walking to the bathroom. The door is left open, you can see how he's stripping his clothes. You fall back into the bed, not taking your eyes away from him.

He knows what he is doing.

You can hear the shower. You take a deep breath, mentally hitting yourself. You have to control yourself. You close your eyes, words repeating on and on and on. You know what you want to say and you will say it.

You are to into your thoughts, practicing how you will deliver the words, how you are giving him the message that you trust him and never doubt his loyalty.

You feel a cold hand grabbing you ankle. Making you open your eyes, you saw Kylian with towel around his waist, his eyes glued to yours.

You smile at him. "Hi." you whisper.

He smiles, shaking his head no. He wants to tease you, make you feel desperate. He takes his times changing. Picking carefully the boxers he would use.

You can tell what his plan is, and it's working.

He walks over to you. Sitting on the chair that's on the corner of his bedroom. "Mon cher, Y/n." he smiles mischievously. "What brings you here tonight?"

Your eyes are glued to his, you won't look down at his body.

You have to be strong.

"Don't you have a tshirt?" you ask, making him smile.

"I have tons." he points with his head towards the closet. "But the one I normally use to sleep is the one that you are wearing."

You blush, looking down at the shirt you took from him. "Oh" you say.

You look back at him, noticing how his grin is bigger. "You were saying?"

You sigh, knowing he's not going to give in. You sat back on the bed.

"I want to apologize, what I said was very out of line." you began. "I didn't meant to ever made you feel like I was shaming you for your previous sex life. Neither meant to doubt your loyalty to me."

He looks at you in the eyes. He can tell that you are being honest.

"What trigger your reaction?" he asks. "Was it something that I said in the past? Anything you read online about me?"

"No." you shake your head. "You know how my mom works at this clinic?" you ask him, making him nod. "Well, since I was a kid she told me about how girls that came there had all these problems. They came thinking it was a normal cold and ended up being something else, because their partners were sleeping around. And that made me feel like I needed to be extra careful with all."

"Even with me." he says low. He was saying that more to himself.

"You are the second person I've been with." you say, crawling to the edge of the bed, near the chair. "I felt so much pressure, my mom kept telling me about how I needed to be careful, that football players were always around. And not that I don't trust you, I do. But-"

"But you wanted to be sure you were safe." he finishes your sentence.

You nod, "I trust you, Ky. I do."

He stands up, opening his arms to you. He wraps his arms around your figure, embracing you into a much needed hug.

You inhale his scent, feeling better now that you explained everything to him. Not caring that load of always being alert.

"I'm sorry I was pushy about the subject. It wasn't nice of me."

"No, it's ok-"

"It's not." He interrupts you. "You asked me to drop it, and I kept talking.

He separates from the hug, walking over to his nightstand. He opens the drawer, taking an envelope.

He hands you the envelope. You take it with curiosity. Checking it to know what is it.

He did the test for you.

He wanted you to trust him. Even if that took a small medical check and blood test.

"I know now that it's not because you don't trust me, but because you are protecting yourself." He says, going back into the embrace.

"You didn't have to." You smile at him. "Thank you."

"If that's what it takes to make my girl know that I'm only hers, then I'll do anything."

You grab his cheeks, kissing him.

You missed the taste of him. The way his lips felt against yours. How his warm temperature mix with yours.

"I'm willing to try if you are." You smile, pecking him.

He smiles at you. The way his eyes got a little dark. You separate from him. Putting your arms in the air for him to take your shirt off.

"Je t'aime." He says, kissing your lips before taking the fabric off of you.

You kiss him to shut him up, pushing him down the mattress with you. "Show me how much."

345 notes · View notes

avaf00rd · 6 months

Text

Little Shits 4

Arsenal wfc x teen!reader

Auswnt x Teen!reader

summary: you cherish some special and cheeky moments with you club team during your birthday week, and the end of Camp with you national team.

warnings: none, maybe that its edited shit - someone teach me to feel confident with my writing again so i can actually write something good

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

“You can’t make up your mind, mind, mind, mind, mind!” You and Alanna screeched into the microphones on the team bus back from Marvel stadium.

“Make it stop!” Kyra screamed over the extremely loud music, covering her ears, causing other girls to laugh and yell in agreement

“Shawty is a eenie meenie miney mo lover!” You sung into Caitlin’s face in her seat, she recorded you as she laughed, you would later find that video on her insta story.

Alanna threw you over her shoulder as you walked back to your bus seats once you were both finished your karaoke song. Voices gone.

You and your national team had just won against Uzbekistan with a wicked 10-0 and were officially going to Paris. Something you had been losing sleep on for weeks.

“You have ruined Justin Bieber for me you two!” Mimi yelled over the rows

“Oh get over it!” You yelled back laughing

You had some of the sprite bottle that was in your backpack to cool down after the performance before Alanna laid on your shoulder from next to you. “Tell me I’m dreaming and we don’t have to get on a 3am flight”

You pinched her

“Ow don’t pinch me” she exclaimed as she rubbed the now red skin

“Dreaming?” You laughed “we are going to be awake the whole night before that it’s fine”

“I’m already tired” she said before muzzling herself back into your shoulder.

“You’re boring” you said already bored at her energy level, getting up out of your seat while the rest of the bus was still singing and going nuts in excitement.

When the bus reached the Hotel you all took the lift to your respected rooms. You all had roommates this camp, and you were with Caitlin as she would usually room with Sam.

When you reached your room you both plopped onto your bed's before you reached over to the phone next to you as Caitlin got up to use the bathroom.

“Room service?” You asked as she had left the room to shower, before she quickly popped around the corner again and pursed her lips at you grinning. Implying a cheeky ‘yes’.

You dialed in the number as the phone rang to the kitchen and greeeting the staff on the line. “Yes just two of your cheese burgers, two fries, one side salad, two chicken nugget meals please and your umm…chocolate Sundae as well as your strawberry one” you said, ordering a lot for you and the hungry brunette

Caitlin came into the bedroom once again, giggling at your requests on the phone.

“20 minutes is fine. Thank you!” Before hanging up the phone and putting it back on the bedside table.

“I’m not gonna have any room for my airplane food!” Caitlin said

“I don’t understand how you like that stuff”

“Airplane food is great” she shrugged

You both had 1 hour before you had to leave for the airport. It wasn’t long at all, considering you both had stuff scattered around the apartment. Caitlin’s face cringed in confusion at your choices but left it before she got on the phone with her girlfriend and your Arsenal Teammates Katie.

—————————

“No fucking about alright? Everyone is tired” Mackenzie warns you and Kyra as you are lined up for boarding, large carry ons in hand and an all too eager duo consisting of you and your best friend.

“Hm” Kyra shrugs at the tall brunette

“We won’t, I’m tired too you’ll be fine” you reassured Mackenzie

As you slowly made your way down the boarding bridge you yawned more than twice on your way you were sure. Greeting the flight attendants you and Kyra made it to your respected seats.

You had fallen asleep after an hour, which is what you were specifically not meant to do due to all of the London Aussies trying to align themselves back with European time. But you slept for five hours and now you were up. Bored as nothing else as basically the rest of the plane slept.

Peeking over the small separator of a wall between you and Kyra, you found her dead asleep. Mouth hung open like drool was about to drip out any moment. You sent a photo of the girl in her state to your Matilda’s group chat, attaching ‘I hope all you who didn’t have to leave at 3 are having fun🥰’.

Quickly deciding to get up and go to the bathroom, you found Mini waiting at the bathroom door for someone to come out so she could go. She found you walking down the aisle and smiled at you before opening her arms slowly to hug you.

You lazily accepted her arms and slumped into her embrace. “I fell asleep just before” you said leaning into her side, keeping your feet grounded as the plane slightly felt wobbly.

“Naughty” Mini chuckled

When the older woman came out of the bathroom, Mini offered for you to go first but you insisted she go. Then noticing a very tired toddler in her seat a few rows down from the bathroom as you waited, Harper yawned bringing her smaller arms up to stretch which made your heart melt. Her tired and slow eyes found yours as she smiled before opening her arms for a hug.

Even though you were quite a fair bit away for her, you made your way back down the aisle to sit next to her in her overly large seat. She crawled into your lap, resting her body there. You, Carefully stroking her arm and looking around the plane at some of the girls asleep, you had completely forgotten about needing to use the toilet before Mini came down the aisle once again.

———————————————

“And to all those returning home, welcome home” the captain said sweetly over the overhead speakers, Kyra rolling her eyes. You had slung your carry on over your shoulder and prepared to get straight out of your seat once Kyra had gotten her over-head carry on out.

“Hello London” you said once you finally made it to baggage claim and stopped to stand and stretch for a moment, before resting on your suitcase waiting for the other girls to grab their’s. Katie would be picking both you and Caitlin up and would drop you home. Teyah picking Kyra up.

“Oh my gosh can I please get a photo y/n!” You heard an excited voice behind you. Your tired expression immediately vanished as you turned around on your heel to meet with the voice.

A girl and a boy that looked about 10 years old stood there cutely with their phones out asking for a photo. “Me?” You asked smiling

“Yes! Only if that’s okay” the short boy said

“Of course” you smiled before putting your handbag on top of your suitcase so you could take the photo.

“We are Australian too! We are on holidays” the girl explained once you handed her phone back to her after you all took the photo

“Oh I thought I heard some Australian accents” you laughed “what do you think of London?”

“It’s very cold” the girl said

“Yeah” they both laughed

“Oh I agree. Bit different from Australia. What are your names?” You asked them

“I am Emma”

“And I’m Luke I play soccer like you!” The small boy said after his sister

“That’s awesome wow!” You said excitedly.

“Hey y/l/n, Katie’s here” Caitlin said from behind you. Not seeing the two young fans that you were talking to just yet.

“Caitlin Foord!” The little girl said excitedly before they both ran off to her. The small boy waving to you as he ran.

You looked a little to the left to find the Irish girl standing there smiling at the interaction, you walked towards her before she started to do the same to you when she noticed you. You hugged, a hug that felt long because it felt soothing to be in her arms like always. Every time Katie hugged someone, it was liked she always framed them in her arms perfectly.

“How you going tiny?” She asked looking down at you with that wide and comforting smile.

“Good”

“Good” Katie mimicked you

“Very tired but I’m happy” you shrugged before pulling her back in. Before feeling a slight tug at the hood of your jumper. Caitlin pulling you away from Katie, so she could greet her. You grabbed your suitcase quickly while they kissed and did whatever else you chose not to look at for too long.

“Let’s go” Katie said grabbing your suitcase off of you so she could hold it before you all walked to her car and out of the airport.

————————————————————————

“Vivvy I don’t need your help” you groaned as Viv came over to where you sat at the dining table, attempting to help you with your homework for the 10th time tonight.

“We aren’t starting this movie until it’s done and unless you want to be hated from us collectively I suggest you pick up that pen” Viv stated trying to keep her words firm and clear.

“Kyra I’ll have one” you pointed to Kyra who was at the fridge getting herself a coke. Completely ignoring Viv who attempted to help you hurry up.

“I give up we are starting the movie” Viv said before walking back to the living room where most of the girls were already.

It was a team bonding night with some of the girls who lived super close to you, Kyra and Alessia’s building. Everyone forced the idea on you that you would host. As no one else was bothered to host and cook for everyone.

You were quite a good cook as the 16 year old yourself. So you gave in, but had deadlines for your online school due tomorrow that you were nowhere near done. The girls found out about your deadlines and made sure you finished them.

“I’ll just ask for an extension” you shrugged getting up and heading to your kitchen to grab the coke off the island that Kyra left for you.

“You can’t just ask for an extension every time” Caitlin, your Australian teammate, said from her position leaning against your kitchen counter, digging her grimey fingers into the leftover salad on the counter.

“out” you flicked her fingers out from the bowl and pulled her arm with you into the living room. “Yeah well I don’t know my teachers so I don’t care” you shrugged before you both sat down on the couch. Caitlin having to take the floor, sitting in between her girlfriend’s legs, due to there being no more space left in the couch nor the beanbags.

“Excited to be 17 tiny?” Laura said from her position on the couch next to you

“Very” you smiled sweetly. It was your birthday in two days.

“That reminds me. Game day in two days, so we can’t watch this full movie” Kim said from the other end of your couch

“Oh come on” Leah groaned like a child to her club Captain

The movie had been playing for around 45 minutes now. When Kyra’s intrusive ideas quickly sprung up and she was sharing them with you. “If we snuck out no one would notice” she whispered

You quietly chuckled at the comment that came completely out of no where, before some of the girls turned to look at you, as the movie scene playing was definitely not that funny.

“Mate how are you gonna do that”

“Your gonna do it with me” Kyra said, you laughed quietly dropping your head and shaking it.

“Yeah and where the hell are we gonna go”

“We can literally just go to my apartment or the lobby. Just to see how long they notice, or how long it takes for them to finally find us” she said finally now leaning back into the couch to act casual, but waiting for your response. Instead you headed to the kitchen

“I’m grabbing water” you said as the rest of the girls eye’s stayed on the screen, Kyra’s following you before quickly getting up and following you when you motioned her to do so.

“I’m in, come on” you whispered before grabbing your key and heading for your front door, which was luckily behind the couch where the rest of your friends lay.

“Should we take our phones?” Kyra asked looking back before she shut the door behind her.

“Nah” you shrugged before Kyra finally shut it, very, very gently.

Bad idea.

————————————

Vic’s Pov

I got up to use the toilet, softly apologise to girls as I stepped over their legs that sprawled out over the carpet before I made my way to the bathroom. I knocked, remembering that Kyra had gone in not too long ago.

“Kyra?” I questioned softly after hearing not response, knocking again. “Kyraaa” I dragged out as I very very gently opened the door slightly to see if she was even in there. When my head finally poked through, I saw no one there. Walking in to double check, there was no one.

“Guys where is Kyra?” I yelled from the bathroom not too loudly. There was silence for a moment as none of the girls bothered to respond to me.

“Where’s y/n?” Katie yelled back, making me exit the bathroom and go out to see the rest of them. “Y/n” Katie slightly yelled across your small apartment. Going to check your bedroom and guest bedroom. “Did you say Kyra was gone too?” Katie asked me as she walked to the rooms, the movie now paused.

“Yeah she’s not in the bathroom like I thought she was” I said before following Katie, me laughing slightly once we checked both rooms only to find them not anywhere.

“Fuck me” Kim said under her breath, now getting up front the couch, Teyah also getting up along with Lia. Viv and Leah asleep on the couch.

Kim went to the kitchen to grab her phone so she could call y/n and Kyra. “Kim” Katie said motioning for her to look at herself, holding up both there phones as she walked out of the room. Signalling they left them.

“Why do they do this” Caitlin said as she went to your front door to look out into the hallway, before completely disappeared down it to look for both of you.

end of pov

———————

“You dumb kid why did you say no when I asked about taking phones?” Kyra groaned as you both sat up against the wall, the outside of your apartment building. You and Kyra had ventured down to the lobby, only to think that it was too obvious, so you walked outside into the dark and sat outside the building. Dangerous. Yep.

“Oi Don’t call me that. Why did you ask me then?” I rushed

“This is boring come on” Kyra said before getting up and reaching her arms out, offering for you to latch on so she could help you up. Kyra dragged you back through your libby and then out a door. Leading to the car park.

“It’s so scary down here no” you said standing in the emergency doorway that you had both snuck into. It was 11pm, pitch black, and Kyra was making her way over to the box trolleys. The trolleys that the residents used to take up large items.

“Push me” Kyra said sitting down in the middle of the trolley, putting her hands in her lap, and crossing her legs.

“No” you hummed

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes”

“Only if you push me after” you gave in. It sounded fun.

“Don’t push me into a car” Kyra laughed as you started to walk with the trolley “faster cmon”

After spinning the trolley around for no more than two minutes filled with laughter and Kyra screaming as the trolley headed for the cement wall. "Okay off, my turn please" you said tugging on Kyra's sleeve before you helped her out of the trolley. As you went to hop in, you both heard the squeaky but heavy door leading to the car park swing open from he other side of the lot. Thinking someone was here to kill you both, you shared a paranoid look before instantly moving behind the red car you were both near, you peaked through the car's back window to see if you could see the figures that had entered, you heard the voice of a female before your eyes landed on Katie, Kim and Teyah.

"Is it a man?" Kyra asked, not looking, her back against the car.

"what? oh, no, worse. Kim Little"

Kyra just looked up at you and smirked before pulling you away, further into the dark parking spaces filled with cars. "Oi!" a strong Irish accent was heard, you looked back as you and Kyra ran through the large car park, locking eyes with a stern Kim Little. "Get back here!" Katie yelled again, a slight goofiness in her voice.

Kyra pulled you behind a car as you noticed Teyah and Katie running up to follow you, you and Kyra ducking out again and running behind another car. "Stop" Teyah breathed out as she ran after you two again. You turned back around only to realise you were running straight towards your captain Kim.

"Ah shit" you chuckled as your jogging came to a stop "hey it was funny-"

"we didn't know where you were, everyone was looking for you two!" Kim exclaimed

"Why" you asked smiling and still breathing heavily, recovering form your chase. Hearing the squeals and laughs from afar, Katie and Teyah were still taking off towards Kyra as they basically played tiggy.

"cause we all care about you. And it worried me that you and Kyra just left"

"Kyra's 22!" you said throwing your arms up

"Is she" Kim said, motioning towards Teyah and Katie tackling Kyra into the cement ground while she broke out into a giggling fit. "besides you're 16!"

"and you're over reacting" you breathed out before grabbing your jumper off the ground near the door and making your way to the exit. Getting in the elevator by yourself, pressing the button with the number 16 on it, heading to your apartment again. Though the lift stopped at ground level, above the car park, someone also trying to get the lift up.

Once the elevator doors opened, a blonde girl with a messy bun and her head in her phone was walking in. Not seeing you yet. "Shit"

Leah looked up from her phone at you. "There you are" Leah said, hitting the back of your head before rubbing your hair aggressively.

"Ow" You groaned, rubbing your head.

"I was looking outside for you, where's Kyra?" Leah said as the lift dinged and you both walked up the hall.

"Kyra's with Kim, Katie and um Teyah" you said, now unlocking your apartment door.

"Where on earth did you go" Leah asked now

"first outside, then the car park" you grinned

"look who it is!" Viv said as you both walked in, from her spot on the couch next to Beth, Laura and Alessia.

"Where is the rest of yous'?" Beth asked you simply shrugged, not bothering to answer, before collapsing into Laura's lap on the couch.

"You're kinda sweaty" Laura said from above your head.

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

Your birthday happened to land on a Thursday, which was your day off. Which meant your birthday would be spent not in the gym, and relaxing, just how you preferred. You sat up in your own bed, in your own apartment face timing your whole family on your computer. Once that ended, you stayed in bed, smiling and your heart warming at the Instagram posts your friend's back in Australia had created for your day, and the one's from your teammates also.

After a slow 30 minutes, you finally left the comfort of your blankets and got into the shower to freshen up for the day. You would be meeting the 'London Aussies' for breakfast this morning. Which included you, Caitlin, Steph, Macca, Sam, Kyra and as of late, Mini and Charli. It meant a lot to you that they took the morning's out of their day off to spend it with you on your birthday. Something you weren't sure would've even been thought about when you nervously moved across the world.

Steph offered to pick you up. So after applying some light makeup to match your usually-bronzed Australian self, changing into a warm outfit consisting of Jeans and a crew neck, Steph had texted you that she was now out the front of your apartment complex.

A wide grin was plastered on both your faces as the glass door outside your lobby opened, Steph leaning against her car waiting for you, large bouquet of yellow flowers in her hand. "Happy birthday Dancing queen!" she exclaimed before engulfing you in a tight hug, slightly lifting your feet off the ground in the warm gesture, you giggled at the comment before she let go of you.

She handed the flowers to you, "for me?" you asked in awe of them as she smiled.

"Of course" Steph said warmly

"Thank you it means a lot to me" you said hugging her again.

"Okay let's go i'm starving" She said before skipping off to the other side of the car to drive. You chuckled as you got into the car

"Where are we even going" you asked on the road, curious as to where you and your Aussie teammates would be eating

"I forget what it is called but I have taken you here before, you loved it" Steph said. Moments later, the car pulled into the parking lot, you remembering the cafe now. You saw Kyra getting out of the car with Charli, from your window.

Meeting up with all your Australian teammates from all around London once again made you happy, almost was the highlight of your day. During the breakfast, you got photos together at the table, some of the girl's mentioning that they would post them on their stories later for Instagram. You spoke about the Olympics, Sam's recovery and wedding plan's, along with plan's of Steph's big day also.

"You're gonna love the present from me and Katie" Caitlin grinned, nudging your shoulder, You let out a quiet but excited squeal.

"What are your plan's for the rest of your day y/n?" Sam asked you before sipping her iced coffee.

"I have been invited over to Beth and Viv's place for dinner tonight. So just chilling at my place then I will head over for that" You said to the girls, them all nodding.

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

Your birthday breakfast was over and Steph had dropped you back home, after taking you to the super market. To buy you whatever Sweets or snacks you wanted for your own apartment. You heard a knock at your door so you walked over to it and peeped through the door. Only to be met with a man in a fluro green vest and black hoodie.

"Y/n y/n/n?" the man asked. You hesitated at first, the multiple worried chats from Leah pondering into your mind about not talking to people who just show up at your apartment. That was before you looked down at the large box with pink wrapping paper and yellow ribbon, the object softening your initial expression. You quickly nodded at the man, before singing on a line from the form he put in front of you.

"Thank you" You smiled before he headed off, leaving the pink box at your door. You went to pick it up, it was heavier than you expected, but you brought it inside and placed it on your dining room table. You unwrapped the gift and saw the card from Katie and Caitlin. Their sweet words about how they were proud of your journey and their love for you had you smiling to yourself. You had received multiple gifts, most of them at training yesterday though, they all made you extremely grateful for the teammates you could call home now. The gift from Katie and Caitlin was a light pink Smeg mixer for baking may not seem to exciting, but baking and cooking for the people closest to you was your love language at this point.

Your teammates had become used to you hosting dinners, with your cooking skills. Also getting used to and comfortable with you regularly bringing them baked treats you had made. Some of them like Katie, Leah and Kyra had become quite demanding that you visit them with treats now.

On the cardboard box the mixer, Katie had written largely in thick-red sharpie 'I expect a shit ton of cookies now', her writing taking up the whole left side of the box. You laughed to yourself at her antics before opening up the box and taking a look at your present.

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

You and Viv got out of her car, where she had parked it outside her and Beth's flat. You were here to spend your birthday dinner with them. "Ready?" Viv asked before she opened the door.

"Uh yeah why" you questioned. Quickly before the door swung open and lights were turned on

"Surprise!" yelled a group, you shooting your head up.

You were met with the beaming faces of your whole family. Including your parents, older siblings, grandparents and closest cousins. Your jaw hung low really fast in shock. Your Australian family was all her in front of you. "What are you-" you yelled in excitement before running into your mother's arms. You greeted your whole family eagerly before hugging Beth who watched you interact with a proud smile.

"who did this?" you asked looking up at her, Beth still holding you

"i may have organised it. But you can thank your siblings" she grinned at you before you hugged her tighter.

You spent the rest of the evening eating pizza and talking with your family. You ended up having to get takeaway as Viv bought the wrong meat from the butcher to make for dinner. Forever grateful for your biggest supporters in your life and your Arsenal and Aussie teammates.

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

Not my best fic at all so i apologise. And i'm so sorry it took so long. Uni is kicking me in my ass daily so it's hard to edit a such.

xxx

#woso #arsenal women #caitlin foord #leah williamson #matildas #woso community #katie mccabe #arsenal #auswnt #kyra cooney cross #matildas x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #kyra cooney cross x reader #arsenal women x reader #woso x reader #woso x teen reader

428 notes · View notes

soupangel · 3 months

Note

gojo x reader having a baby girl 🥹🥹 I wanna see girl dad satoru plsss 🥹😭

Papa-Michi Day

Synopsis: Michiru loves spending time with her Papa

warnings: reader is referred to as mama, very very brief pregnancy mention (just in the first sentence)

wc: 1.6k (wow.. are we proud)

a/n: I have an unhealthy obsession with dad!gojo so thank you for this request

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

You would think that because you were the one to carry her for nine months that she would at least look a little like you. But Michiru came out looking one hundred percent Satoru. Bright blue eyes, white hair, and she even got his smile. It didn't help that she was also attached to Satorus hip, always following him around like a little duckling. It's absolute hell trying to get him to work on time because he always gives into Michirus' cries of “ just one more kiss papa, one more”.

The sound of tiny grunting is what woke you up this morning. Blinking to wake yourself up you sit to see little Michi trying to climb up onto the bed.

“Michi, honey what are you doing?” you whisper as to not wake Satoru.

She huffs and says ” I get up.” looking at you as if it was obvious, and you suppose it was seeing as she does this almost everyday you should've expected her this morning. Satoru was already looking into tiny steps to put by the bed because of course he was.

You go to pick her up and bring her onto the bed with you to end her struggling. Sitting back against the pillows with Michiru in your lap you brush through her bed head.

“How did you sleep my darling”

“Good mama” she says leaning into your hand.

“Yeah? Did you have any fun dreams?”

“Ummm there was a unicorn in the livingroom and Papa got mad because it made a poo poo on the carpet” she giggles

“Oh my that's so silly Michi!”

She sits up straighter in your lap and looks at the sleeping Satoru next to you. You know she wants to wake him up, it's why she came in here in the first place.

“I wake up papa now?”

“Yes darling you can wake up papa now.” You laugh.

She beams at you then crawls over to where Satoru is sleeping, lying on his back, vulnerable to the attack that is about to befall him. You have to hold in your laughter as Michiru flings herself onto Satorus chest.

“Wake up papa Michi is here!”

Satoru wakes up with a start, all the air in his lungs getting knocked out of him. He has to catch his breath before he can answer Michi, his sweet little angel who can do no wrong. He brings her closer to his face and hugs her tightly and pets her hair.

“Michi, what have I said about jumping on me while I sleep”

She hums as she thinks before answering.

“To not do it.”

“Yes and what did you do just now?”

“I jumped on papa”

“Right, we need to work on our listening skills, I think.”

Michiru picks up her head from her Papas shoulder and looks at him with her puppy eyes that make Satoru melt every time.

“I'm sorry Papa, I just so excited to see you.”

Satoru looks as if he's about to cry when he dramatically throws his arms around Michi declaring how he can never be mad at his little Michi. You just shake your head as you get up to start on breakfast Pancakes of course because Michi also inherited Satorus sweet tooth.

Your Husband emerges from your bedroom not even five minutes later with your daughter on his hip. Bed hair not yet fixed he looks just like Michi did when she first came to your room.

“Good morning Mama!” Satoru says before placing a very dramatic (and wet) kiss on your cheek, making Michiru laugh.

You make a show of dramatically wiping the residue of his kiss off your face.

“Good morning Papa, good morning Michi,” you turn back to the stove to flip the pancakes. “Go sit down, breakfast is almost ready.”

“Yes ma'am” Satoru salutes.

He makes airplane noises as he flys Michiru throughout the dining room, her laugh echoing off the walls, and plops her down in her chair. As if they prepared this, which you wouldn't put past them, they both picked up their fork and knife and started banging them on the table, shouting “Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes!”

You walk through the doorway leading to the dining room holding a plate of steaming pancakes in one hand and a bottle of syrup in the other.

“Alright, Alright, it's ready!” you say, putting down the plate in front of them. It takes them all of three seconds to grab their pancakes off the plate.

“Thank you Mama!” They say in unison, digging into their breakfast.

You sit down to start eating your own, taking the seat right across from Satoru, with Michiru to your right.

“You're welcome my loves”

It's silent for a few minutes while everyone is busy enjoying their breakfast. That is until Satoru loudly sighs and leans back into his chair. He lifts his head to look at you.

“Thank you for breakfast y/n.” He smiles.

“You're welcome Satoru.” You smile back.

He gets up to take all of your plates into the kitchen but not without giving his favorite girls a kiss. While Satoru does the dishes you take Michi up to her room to get her ready for the day. Since it was Saturday that means it's what Satoru and Michi call a ‘papa-Michi day’. Where Satoru takes Michi out for the day doing whatever fun activities they can come up with, and you get the day to yourself.

Today Michi has decided to wear a pastel pink dress with her new sparkly shoes that Satoru just bought her. She does a little twirl in the mirror to see her dress poof before she looks at you and runs into your legs.

She tilts her chin up so it rests on your thigh and asks “ Do I look pretty mama?”

You swear you almost melted into a puddle right there.

“Oh Michi, you are so beautiful!!” You kneel down so you're now face to face and kiss her forehead. “Let's go show papa how pretty you look.”

She quickly exited the bedroom and carefully made her way down the steps because there's no running on the stairs. But once she made it to the landing she sprinted to the kitchen, where they last saw Satoru, Shouting “Papa! Papa! MIchi’s ready!”

He turns around before she has a chance to crash into his legs and scoops her up into his arms.

“Nooo this isn't my Michi, this has to be a princess!” He tickles her stomach.

She laughs as she says “ No Papa it's Michi! It's really me!”

Satoru pulls back to take a better look at her outfit. Quite different from how he saw her this morning, her hair is now done in two little pigtails.

“Michi, you are the most beautiful girl in the whole world.”

She puts her head on Satoru's shoulder, she always gets shy when receiving compliments, something she did not get from Satoru, but you instead.

“Even prettier than Mama?” she questions.

“Of course but we have to keep that between me and you okay?”

“Okay!” She beams at him. She loves keeping secrets even though she's horrible at it.

“Hey! I heard that!”

They both turn their heads to look at you in the doorway of the kitchen with your hands on your hips.

“Heard what?” Satoru asks, playing dumb.

Michi doesn't catch on to the fact that Satoru is only pretending because she turns her little head to his and says “That I'm more prettier that Mama.”

You hold in your laugh so you can torture Satoru a moment longer.

“Michi, it was supposed to be a secret.” Satoru whines.

“Oops sorry” she says and then quickly slaps her hand over her mouth.

You walk over to them both and give your daughter a kiss and lightly glare at Satoru.

“It's okay Michi, you can be prettier than mama.” You then turn to Satoru. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop teaching our daughter to keep secrets from us?”

He looks down sheepishly and softly apologizes

“It won't happen again.”

“Good, now you two better get going and start Papa-Michi day.”

You walk them to the door kissing them both Goodbye. They wave to you until you're out of their sight.

Michi decides today is a good day for the Park. She's not really dressed for the park but he, you only live once, and Satoru cant say no to her. Satoru helps her on the monkey bars, which really just means he held her up the entire way across. They raced down the slide and of course Michi won. To end ‘Papa-Michi day’ they stop for ice cream, which is usually how they all end.

As they walk home Michi spots some flowers growing on the sidewalk and tugs on Satoru’s hand.

“For Mama, we have to get them for mama.” she says pointing to the little yellow flowers.

“Of course mama would never turn down a gift from her Michi, Go pick them.”

She hops over to the little flowers and plucks them out of the ground. She runs back to where Satoru is waiting for her and resumes holding his hand.

“Ok lets go '' she pants out, because running no matter the distance is always tiring for a four year old.

By the time they make it home, dinner is ready. You placed the little flowers Michi picked for you in a little glass vase in the middle of the table. While you ate Michi told you all about her exciting day with her Papa.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

I would love to know what you thought! likes comments and reblog are always appreciated!

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #fem!reader #dad!gojo #jjk oneshot #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru #jjk imagines #satoru gojo fanfiction #dad!satoru Gojo #fluff #jjk fluff

355 notes · View notes

ttshihiro · 3 months

Note

pspspps.. totally not golden groovy woops

ANYWAYS HII!! heard u were open for requests. may i request tammy + qiu with and an artist reader :00

requests of my favorite fandoms are my catnip good gof woa who could this be‽‽ my reqs and my ask box are like always open btw >◡<

extra note/s: I refer to step 1 Qiu as he/him. Uhhh take this as platonic or romantic, I'll add an indicator for romance (𐙚) ^^

more under the cut > o

✧ At 10 years old, QIU's fascinated. How he discovers your interest and skill in arts varies but his reaction doesn't. He's impressed! Whether digital or traditional, Qiu would love to participate especially if you asked him yourself.

For this reason, he carries an extra pen and even those colored ones just in case you get bored or if you're suddenly struck by creativity when you two are playing :3

✧ The first time you show him one of your doodles you made during class, he's compelled to do the same whether or not you actually give him it. And ever since, you two've been exchanging these sketches during class. It's the cutest scene to walk into.

✧ URGH AND THE THINGS HE DOES WHEN YOU TELL HIM ABOUT ART BLOCK DEPENDING ON HOW AND WHAT YOU DRAW

You're into drawing sceneries? Trust that he starts telling you and Tamarack about more "special things" in the forest and/or the town.

Like the sky? There's this clearing a lot further into the forest at your backyards. Stargaze, watch the clouds and the sunset together?

✧ It's also necessary for me to mention that unlike his notes, lazily pressed against eachother and constantly on the run, anything you give him goes to a safe space probably in between a books pages, under the the matress of his bed or inside a drawer/container.

"They broke into my backyard accidentally, 'cause they were on a crazy investigation about a paper airplane. Plus, they got here a day ago and they're already looking out for me. Normally, I'm the one doing that."

"Besides, they're pretty. And they make me pretty. Look! Look how they drew me!"

✧ As for 10-year-old TAMARACK, she's curious. The things you draw, are they based on actual places? Actual people? Oh, you draw based on your imagination? Elaborate.

✧ At some point in the prologue, she says "All the forests in the world are different, and some places don't even have forests. I can show you good spots to find things since you're newer to this forest than me."

And I can't not think of her running up to you to give you all of what she gathered for you to draw like omfg

With all those leaves and tiny branches sticking out of her hair and sweater, she smiles brightly with her hands filled with her treasures. AUGH SHE MAKES ME SO SICK I LOVE HER

✧ Like Qiu, she has her own safe spot designated for only your drawings if you've given her any.

She shows off all of them. Especially if you've drawn her?? It'll be the only thing she talks about during literally any time for the rest of the month and the few months after.

"Out of all the friends I have here, you're the best one. We came to the same exact neighborhood, almost at the same time, and are he same age. You have fun outside and I do too."

"I think you're pretty. How you draw me is pretty! I've never met a kid who was just like me. That's important. That's serious."

✧ Now, 14-year-old QIU's pretty much no different. They're even more impressed when they see just how much you've improved. Nonetheless, they treasure your old drawings just as much as they do they new.

They take the liberty of providing you with both a pen and paper to draw on when you're together, in case you don't bring your sketchbook (if you own one).

On those days where you two just sit in silence in their hideout, their gaze drifts to your side quietly a few times to watch your progress. After a while, they settle with sitting right next to you and watching the stroke of your pen against the paper as the scene forms with each hatch.

✧ As a teen, they've actually been a tad bit farther off the town when they feel like taking a ride on their bike. They've seen many sights and burn the route into their brain for them to tell you about. They'd even be happy as to bring you there themselves.

✧ If you ask them to be your muse, good god you'd need to tell them what to do.

It's almost a funny sight. Qiu, the kid who knew what to do their whole life asks you, "Should I pose? Where do I look? Ah- what's my good side?"

𐙚 They can feel their breath hitch under your scrutiny. Suddenly, they're concious of every single thing about them. Where do their eyes go? Should they move their hands? Is their hair in the way?

They avert their gaze flusteredly, their head ever so slightly moving to the side when they do so.

And good god do their hands clutch the fabric of their pants when you tell them to look at you properly.

✧ Same goes for TAMARACK at 14. She's as intrugued as ever to hear about your work. She admires (you)r style from then till now and has learned to appreciate the time gone into things as simple as this, whether or not you've made it with her in mind. BUT GOD IF YOU TELL HER IT IS, it's always sitting on her desk and she thinks constantly about what you've done for her.

✧ And while she doesn't exactly bring you a pen, she's more than glad to hand you hers when you need it.

✧ Unlike before, she'd now be at your side when you two hung out at her backyard. She'd be sitting across from you, practicing the cello. The hum of her instrument accompanied by the sound of nature and the scratch of your pen against paper gives her a sense of calmness.

This may also be when she realizes she's been your muse! Her fingers trace over where your pen has been and boy appreciate isn't even enough for her to describe how she felt. It was definitely happy, but that wasn't the word either.

𐙚 Her heart pounds alarmingly as she admires your work. It's almost concerning to you that she sits silently with a blank expression as she held your sketchbook in her hands.

But that concern washes off you as soon as a warm smile curls the corners of her lips, tender adoration displayed all over her face.

#🫧 ˎˊ˗ eunoia ✩#our life qiu lin #our life tamarack #our life qiu #our life x reader #our life #our life now and forever #tamarack baumann #tamarack baumann x reader #tamarack x reader #olnf x reader #olnf #olnf qiu #olnf tamarack #qiu autumn lin #qiu lin x reader #qiu lin #gb patch games

145 notes · View notes

blurredcolour · 5 months

Text

The Only Truth... | Part Four

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x POW Flight Nurse!Female Reader

The day Stalag VIIA is liberated ought to be one of pure celebration. Unfortunately, fate has other plans in store.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Death, Blood, Brief Battle, Serious Reader Injury [gunshot wound], POW Camp Setting, SS Officers, Mental Health Struggles, References to Christianity, Reader Scars, Hospital Setting, Kissing, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: Thank you all ever so much for your patience! At last we come to the end of our tale. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 6267

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

The morning of Sunday, April 29, 1945, dawned cloudy but bright. The chill of early spring still hung in the air, your breath hanging from your lips as you ducked out into the tent to collect the clean yet still-unfolded laundry that had been awaiting your attention throughout the drama of the rainstorm. You had just managed to tuck it away into your room when Fitzgibbons arrived with a new book for you to read, a more recently published fantasy novel called The Hobbit, though you had other priorities before diving into it.

You had almost gotten away with your clandestine chores, rags folded, and three-quarters of the bandages rolled, when your former surgical technician appeared at your door, knocking on the frame with an admonishing look on his face.

“I see you’re taking it easy on your day off, Ma’am.”

Huffing in irritation at being caught, you shook your head. “I’m off my feet, Fitz, can’t we just call a truce?”

He made a non-committal noise before cracking a grin. “Actually came to ask a favor, so I’m thinking we can come to an agreement. Menzies,” his deliberate mispronunciation of the British Captain’s name made you roll your eyes affectionately, “ordered me to flush a wound using your make-shift tools and honestly, I cannot make heads or tails of what you’ve jerry-rigged.”

Biting back a laugh, you nodded quickly, well aware that your cobbled-together system was more than a little unorthodox and not at all surprised Menzies had not taken the time to ensure Fitzgibbons knew how it worked. “Certainly, let me walk you through it.”

Grabbing the laundry you had thus far folded, you made your way down the hall to collect the items from the supply desk and followed him to the bedside of a new patient. Introducing yourself warmly, you learned the man’s name was Michaels and he hailed from the frigid wilds of Canada.

“Fitz and I are going to use this here to flush that wound, alright?” You nodded to the nasty laceration on his calf, your makeshift instruments cradled in your arms.

“Sounds fine, Ma’am.” He nodded patiently, vowels clipped remarkably short in that efficient Canuck way of speaking.

“Alright so if you take this, Fitz.” You held out a funnel with a piece of tubing secured to it, watching the tech take it carefully.

The mundane calm of the morning was shattered by the sudden hum of an airplane engine, your eyes shooting to meet Fitzgibbons’ sharply moments before the eruption of gunfire.

“Everyone get down!” He shouted and you both lurched into motion to begin helping your patients from their cots onto the wooden planks of the tent platform, abandoning your instruments on Michaels’ cot.

Panic rising as you once again found yourself in a wildly unsafe place while under fire, you urged the men from their beds to get low, presenting smaller targets for the errant bullets that were punching holes through the canvas of the tent every so often. The cacophony outside only increased with the rumble of approaching vehicles – tanks quite possible given the depth of sound that carried across the camp – and you nearly tripped over your own feet in an effort to reach the last two patients who simply could not move on their own.

Heaving one, Sidhu from India, out of his cot and depositing him onto the floor, you were just sliding your arms beneath the shoulders of the last, Hernandez from Texas, when searing heat and pain punched into your side. Your arms and legs gave out beneath you instantly, your body collapsing atop the poor boy still on his cot, both of you gasping for breath. With a grunt of annoyance, you flung a hand back to your hip, eyes widening as your fingertips were quickly covered in a warm, slick fluid.

“M…Ma’am?!” Hernandez warbled from beneath you, watching as you lifted your fingers to inspect just what was going on, his face blanching at the unmistakable scarlet of blood. “Doc?! Medic!! Help!!!” He began to shriek all the words he knew to summon assistance, making you wince at the racket as you forced yourself to roll off him, crashing to the floor in a pile of uncooperative limbs.

Taking a moment to try and catch your breath, pulse rocketing at an alarming rate, you began to realize that no matter how long you lay there, things were not improving. In fact the situation was growing a lot more serious as a deep ache was settling into your right side and you could feel your clothes growing damper with blood by the second. Rolling onto your stomach, you had just begun to feebly pull yourself across the floor of the tent when the racket outside subsided momentarily, Hernandez’s cries summoning several sets of boots to run in your direction.

A great, external cheer erupted in the same moment you were lifted by many hands onto one of the recently vacated cots, Chalmers, Menzies and Fitzgibbons all hovering above you as they yanked at your shirt and pants to get at your wound. The striking similarity between your plight and that of Simms set your teeth on edge, tears brimming in your eyes at the sudden thought that this could really be it. You might very well die here in these filthy, mud-covered clothes while the rest of the camp cheered on outside.

“Keep breathing for me, Nurse. You’ve got an entry and an exit wound, you just stay with us now.” Chalmers barked firmly and you managed a brief nod despite the shakes that seemed to want to rattle your bones. “Fitz go find out if they’ve got a Medic with them – we need sulfa and plasma, and she needs an aid station and surgery.”

“Sir!” He replied before you heard his frantic footfalls leave the tent.

Menzies applied a ruthless amount of pressure to the front and back of your hip and it was all you could do not to wail pathetically at the lances of pain that shot through you. “I know, Nurse, I know. For your own good, now. Why’d you have to go and get yourself shot in the middle of our liberation, hm?”

“Libe.r.ation?” It was difficult to form the word, your mouth clumsy and filled with cotton, head buzzing with adrenaline and pain.

Your heart was beginning to lose its rhythm, stuttering and skipping beats every so often. Your medical training offered a whispered explanation of ‘blood loss’ which did nothing for the suffocating feeling of panic in your chest.

“Looks like your American Army showed up to bring you home, so let’s make sure you can get there alright?” Chalmers added firmly and you nodded again, trying to take deep breaths.

You were so close. They were right there.

What had started as a frigid day seemed to be growing colder, your fingers tips positively icy by the time you heard Fitzgibbons return, giving someone a rundown. The familiarity of it made your heart ache for a simpler time when the two of you were the ones saving people, taking them from danger to safety. Now you were the one in peril, finding it remarkably difficult to keep your eyes open. The unfamiliar face of a young man in an Army helmet came into view before you felt the sting of sulfa on your wounds.

Your left sleeve was rolled up, your nonsensical protests going unheeded as the man began to search for a vein, inserting an IV for the bottle of cheery yellow plasma – the bright color anachronistic to the monochromatic color palette that pervaded the Stalag. Bandages were wrapped tightly around your middle once more and they were just about to lift you, cot and all, when another set of heavy footfalls sounded on the floorboards.

“Jesus christ…angelfish…” Bucky’s voice was unmistakable, though anguished, and you rolled your head to the side to look at him with a weak smile.

“Bucky.” You managed to form his nickname at a volume no more than a whisper, vision narrowing in on his pinched, tight features, the normally rosy hue completely drained from his cheeks.

Suddenly everything tilted and whirled as your cot was hoisted onto the shoulders of Chalmers, Menzies, Fitzgibbons, and the Medic.

“Take the plasma, Egan. Hold it up, keep pace.” Chalmers ordered sharply and the ceiling of the tent began to blur as they rushed out into the daylight, your vision going completely white before all was darkness.

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

The morning had seemed like any other, crowded around a small campfire trying to keep warm, trading suppositions about the end of the war with Jefferson, when the unmistakable sound of an aircraft engine had broken through the din of the camp.

“Hey Macon, that’s a P-51!” Jefferson had shouted and instantly the entire population was on their feet, cheering on the pilot as he took out on of the guard towers.

Their elation was short lived, the abrupt sound of incoming artillery sending all the prisoners into the dirt as every single German soldier seemed to open fire as one, the camp instantly an active battlefield. Bucky’s eyes strayed to the hospital tent, its canvas walls helplessly pinned between the encroaching American tanks and the defending German guards. They needed to put a stop to this from the inside before any more lives were needlessly lost. Even as this thought crossed his mind, men were falling all around him.

“Fellas! Take out the tower!” Bucky shouted as he ran for the tent where the majority of the Americans were sheltering, seeking out the homemade stars and stripes they had carefully crafted and transported from camp to camp, kept hidden from goons, just for such an occasion.

It took a few tries before Jefferson successfully came up with the flag, passing it to him quickly. Dashing through the chaos of prisoners running hither and thither through the camp, some fleeing, some fighting guards, Bucky was boosted onto the roof of the administration building. The flagpole was less than sturdy as he climbed it but as he removed the Nazi war flag and tossed it to the cheering crowd below, the guns fell quiet. Securing the ragtag American flag, watching the breeze immediately catch and fly it high, an immense feeling of relief wash through him and after taking a moment to celebrate, he pressed his forehead to the hand-hewn timber of the pole to soak in his gratitude for making it this far. Though the ragged appearance of his country’s flag undoubtedly mirrored his own.

As he carefully climbed down the rickety pole, his eyes caught on a somewhat familiar figure running frantically through the crowd toward the gate, moving against the flow of those milling around the yard, celebrating. The man’s shouts carried intermittently on the wind across the crowd and Bucky managed to pick out “Medic,” his heartrate picking up at the word “Nurse.” His stomach dropped when the word “shot” reached his ears.

“Angelfish.” He whispered and quickly scrambled his way off the roof, wincing a little at his rough landing, before he began to shove his own way through the oblivious celebrants towards the hospital.

Skidding to a stop on the threshold of the tent, he was startled to find all the patients cowering beneath their cots while you lay on one of their abandoned beds, a bloody mess surrounded by men frantically trying to save you.

“Jesus christ…angelfish…” He choked out, throat clenching painfully as your head lolled to the side, slightly unfocused eyes meeting his.

“Bucky.” Your faint whisper of his name propelled him forward, a frown settling over his features at the state of your clothes, wanting nothing more than to cover up the expanse of your abdomen and the scar on your arm – you surely hated to have that so prominently on display.

Chalmers’ sudden directive for him to manage the plasma grabbed his attention and he quickly grasped the glass bottle, holding it high as they lifted the entire bed to begin carrying you out of there.

“Just hold on, angelfish.” He rasped, heart lurching painfully as your eyes rolled back in your head, your body going slack.

Running alongside you to the gate despite the way his lungs ached, the crowd mercifully parted before their odd little group. A jeep was waiting with a stretcher strapped to the back, and Bucky watched helplessly as your unsettlingly limp form was transferred from the cot, the bottle of plasma wrenched from his fingers by the Medic before he perched atop your legs. As the vehicle took off, the Lieutenant Colonel of the armored division strode over sternly.

“How the devil did a nurse end up as a POW?” He demanded as Lieutenant Colonel Clark came to stand on Bucky’s right.

Chalmer’s sighed deeply before sharing what he knew of your story, of your arrival back in January including the fact that the Red Cross was informed through the usual process, and how you were housed separately in the hospital. As Fitzgibbons, the very same surgical technician you had earned your burns pulling out of your plane, filled in the rest of your service history, Bucky could only reflect on how little he really knew you. How short his time with you had actually amounted to be. Hell, he would not have even known your squadron number if it was not for that conversation right then.

“What a SNAFU.” The man muttered and Bucky could certainly see the resemblance of the man’s commanding officer, Patton, in him. “Well, let’s get this formal surrender over with so we can get these boys home.”

Clark nodded in return and Bucky shuffled back to sit heavily amongst the men of the 100th, waving off Brady’s look of concern. Watching the salutes and handshakes, he was completely numb, his thoughts miles away with wherever they had taken you, only able to hope against hope that their aid station was of the highest calibre.

Bucky had not resorted to prayer often throughout the war. Sure he had worn a crucifix and crossed himself reflexively when flying into a hail of flak, but conversations with higher beings had never been something he had put much stock in. Faced, now, with this gnawing feeling of helplessness, your very survival in the balance, it seemed like the only tool left at his disposal.

Crammed into the tent that night, shoulder-to-shoulder with his neighbors, he felt rusty and self-conscious as he addressed the god of his childhood Sunday school and fairly begged for you to make it. He stopped short of bargaining his own life away, but barely, before sleep overtook his aching body, the exertions of the day overtaking him.

As he found himself jostling in the back of a transport truck on his way to Paris the next day, handpicked by Lieutenant Colonel Clark to be among the first sent back to England, he could not help but feel as though he was being driven further and further away from you. It was near night by the time they pulled into the base and Bucky took his first warm shower in over a year, changing into a fresh uniform and feeling almost human. They were served white bread that might as well have been cake, with steak and eggs that were too rich for him to endure more than a few bites before he crawled into a remarkably clean bed and slept deeply, exhaustion winning out over his continuous concern for your well being.

Climbing into the belly of a B-17 for the first time in over eighteen months felt awkward and painful, the crew from the 100th consisting of unfamiliar replacements, the space feeling more cramped than it ever had as he wedged himself into the cockpit behind the pilot. The deep-seated terror he had desperately been trying to supress, his fear that Buck had not made it to safety despite their planning and the beating he had taken to distract the guards, surged to the fore of his mind. It competed ruthlessly with his anxiety over whether you were still drawing breath, the fact that he may have to face the truth of losing both of you leaving him silent and withdrawn as the plane took flight.

There was no immediate answer awaiting him at Thorpe Abbotts either, no familiar faces lining the tarmac – not even Lemmons was around, which struck him as unsettlingly odd. Making his way to the CO’s hut, his eyes at last landed on a familiar face as Herrmann emerged from one the equipment sheds.

“Hey Winks! Where is everybody? Guy comes back after a year-and-a-half and no one’s around?” He plastered on a playful smirk as the boy’s face broke out into a grin of astonishment, shaking his hand vigorously as he rushed over.

“Buck took Rosie, Douglass, Croz, and Kenny up on one of those mercy missions they’ve been practicing for, they should be back any time now, sir. Gosh it’s great to see you back here.”

Bucky’s attention immediately snagged on the first name Herrmann mentioned, finding it immensely difficult to continue listening as he exhaled half of the tension that had strangled him all the way across the English Chanel. “Good to be back, Winks. Think you can give me a lift?” He raised an eyebrow, desperate for a moment of levity.

With a quick nod, Herrmann was promptly driving him towards the control tower. The most difficult part of getting up there was making it past all the congratulatory pats and handshakes, but Bucky was able to pull off his surprise, the sound of Cleven’s voice over the radio going a long way to mending some of the deep wounds he was still sporting.

More handshakes and pats-on-the-back awaited him at the hardstand and it finally felt like he was back amongst the familiar faces of these men. He did not miss the way Cleven’s eyes were quietly scrutinizing him, however. The gratingly familiar feeling that his friend was looking right through him was undeniable as he joked and smiled with the boys who had never been imprisoned. Who had not endured the things they had. As the crowd around them thinned out, Bucky turned to watch Cleven pull out one of his toothpicks, sliding it between his molars in a familiar yet long-lost motion.

“So what you been up to since I left?” His friend asked.

Bucky swallowed and shrugged a little walking over to the jeep, Cleven immediately sliding into the passenger’s seat out of habit.

“That terrible, huh?” Cleven muttered and Bucky sighed as the vehicle roared to life.

“Ended up in Moosburg.” He started out slow, with simple facts. “Got a little hurt on the way, so Brady and Hambone took me to the hospital. Turns out there was a Nurse there, POW since January.”

The look of shock on his friend’s face registered in the corner of his eye and Bucky did not have the heart to fully face him.

“The German’s held a woman prisoner?” Cleven shook his head with a sigh of dismay.

“She got shot during the liberation, stray bullet. Medics from the armored division took her and I have no idea if she made it.” Now that he had started telling the story it all just came pouring out of him.

“You care about her more than just on moral grounds.” Cleven stated matter-of-factly and Bucky sighed as he pulled up in front of what used to be their hut.

Who knew if it still was.

“Yes.” He begrudgingly admitted, though his admission was addressed to the steering wheel.

There was a long, drawn-out silence, the incessant chirping of sparrows filling in the gap in conversation and Bucky realized he had not really heard a bird his entire time in captivity. His head snapped sharply to look at Cleven as he suddenly spoke again.

“If anyone can find someone in the chain of evacuation it’ll be Smokey.”

Bucky furrowed his brows a moment before it clicked. “Doc Stover? You think?”

Cleven shrugged. “He’s our best shot I guess.”

“Our…”

“Are you going to drive us to the hospital, or should I?”

A grin pulled at Bucky’s lips as he started the jeep back up and took a sharp U-turn, heading for the base hospital. He pretended not to notice the way his friend’s eyes lingered on the stiff movement of his body as he climbed out of the jeep – he was definitely sore but was most certainly not going to admit to it. The wards were just as populated as they had been in 1943, something he found rather infuriating. It was another feeling he tucked into a neat little package and shoved down to be ignored until a more convenient time. Or perhaps never to be acknowledged again.

Stover was easy to find, dressed in his white coat, just finishing his rounds.

“Majors, what can I do for you?” He gestured for them to follow him into his office and Bucky sank down into a chair heavily, once again ignoring another man’s assessing gaze on him.

“Well it’s an odd request really but…” He trailed off, hesitating as he smoothed his too-long hair, reflecting once again that he needed a proper haircut.

“We’re wondering if you might be able to track someone down for us. Someone who was injured at a camp in Moosburg and evacuated to an aid station.

Stover raised an eyebrow curiously. “One of your fellow POWs?”

“Something like…. well yeah, she is.” Bucky corrected himself midway through, watching the doctor’s eyebrows shoot up dramatically. “Flight Nurse from the 802nd MAES, POW at Moosburg since January of ’45, shot during liberation and taken to the aid station of Patton’s 3rd Army – armored division. Which division I don’t know.”

They watched as Stover quickly grabbed a pen and started jotting down the important details, including your name.

“How bad was she hurt?” Stover asked and Bucky swallowed tightly.

“I didn’t see it happen but there was a gunshot to her stomach somewhere. They got her on plasma quickly.” He added hopefully but Stover’s face remained grim.

“I can’t promise you anything Major Egan, it doesn’t sound particularly hopeful either, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He nodded, leveraging himself out of the chair with a barely concealed wince.

“And what do you have going on?” Stover stayed seated, eyeing him expectantly.

Bucky noticed Cleven had not budged either, the bastard. Emptying his lungs with a heavy exhale, Bucky put his hands on his hips and shrugged.

“Couple of broken ribs, I’ll be alright.” He replied nonchalantly.

“And how old are these broken ribs?” Stover prodded and Bucky ignored Cleven’s pointed look up at him.

“Couple weeks, I’m halfway mended, just overdid it getting in the fort to come back.”

Stover rose from behind his desk and opened a cabinet, fetching a bottle and holding it out to him. “Aspirin, to keep you comfortable. Take two every four hours as long as you need. Come back if you run out.”

Bucky accepted the bottle with a nod of thanks, the memory of you scrounging up two rare pills for him in the Stalag flooding back, furrowing his brows. The things you could have done in a place like this with limitless supply.

“Thanks again, Doc.” Cleven’s expression of gratitude pierced through his reminiscing and Bucky nodded quickly, tucking the pills into his pocket before heading out quietly.

Accommodations were procured and there was not much for him to do around base aside from rest and learn how to eat properly once more. It took several days for any news of your condition to reach him, via Stover’s connections, but when the man pulled him into his office on the morning of the May 5, he was stunned to learn that not only were you alive, but that you had been air evacuated to Redgrave Hospital just thirty minutes away from Thorpe Abbotts.

You were safe. You were close.

“Seems they weren’t quite certain what to do with her, but as she serves under the Army Air Force, they sent her to our main hospital.” Bucky realized Stover was still talking and he shot him a warm grin before grasping his hand to shake firmly.

“Well I really appreciate your help, Doc. I’ve gotta…” Bucky glanced over his shoulder at the door, desperate to make his way to you.

“Yeah, go…” He chuckled and shooed him out of his office.

No longer a squadron commander, Bucky technically did not have a jeep of his own to disappear with off base and so he was in the process of grabbing one of the stray bikes outside the control tower when Crosby emerged into the daylight, eyes squinting in fatigue at the brightness.

“Where are you off to Major?”

“Redgrave Hospital!” He replied brightly, watching the younger man blink.

“Sir that’s a good eleven miles, that’s a terrible idea with your ribs.”

Word seemed to have spread fast…

“Take my jeep, I’m not gonna need it today.”

“Croz, you are a lifesaver.” Bucky dropped the bike he had been wrangling to slap him on the back before diving into the jeep allotted for use by the Group Navigator. “I’ll be back!” He shouted, taking off in a spray of dust and gravel.

Turning onto the two-hundred-acre country estate, Redgrave Hospital, consisting of nearly forty Nissen huts, stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the trees and landscaped green. As he pulled up to the headquarters of the hospital, Bucky quickly realized that the staff there were not nearly as excited to see him. In fact, they were downright reluctant to allow him in to visit you, but assured him that while you were ‘heavily medicated and resting’ you were still ‘on the mend.’

While relief still permeated his system, it was a new agony to have you so very close and yet still out of his reach. If they were not going to permit him as a regular visitor, Bucky realized he was going to have to get a lot more creative in order to lay his eyes on you, and until he did, there would be not real peace.

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

Moments of clarity punctured through the blackness – a blur of trees, the flurry of activity of an aid station, the masked face of a surgeon speaking to you reassuringly, the heartbreakingly familiar interior of a C-47 – but it was not until you were settled in a bed inside a hospital with four walls, windows, and nurses that true cognizance really returned to you. Casting your eyes around the sterile, white space, you noted you were situated at the end of a row and walled off from other patients with a set of privacy screens. The most striking feature of this hospital was the very stern-faced Bucky parked in a chair to the left of your bed.

As you began to stir, his eyes lifted quickly to meet yours, some of the tension easing from his frame. “Have a good rest, angelfish?” he whispered, and you furrowed your brows up at him, so full of questions. “They got you on the good stuff don’t they.” He chuckled fondly, reaching out to brush his fingertips across your cheek tenderly.

“Kick a girl when she’s down, why don’t you.” You sighed, speech slightly slurred from pain medication and the dryness in your mouth, but still capable of using his own lines against him.

His resulting grin contained all the brilliance of the sun and made you look down with a self-satisfied smirk. Your eyes immediately fell on your exposed arms laying atop the blanket, the scarring along your left forearm lain bare for all to see. Jerking your hands back roughly, you clumsily tried to shove them beneath the covers despite the warmth on the ward. Bucky’s gentle tut before his hand came to rest atop yours halted your attempt.

“Shhh, you’re just fine you brave, beautiful woman. Stay right there.” He murmured as he laced his fingers with yours, pinning your arm to rest above the blanket. “You have nothing to hide or be ashamed of.”

Swallowing thickly, you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. “I think I’ve acquired a few more…” You sighed, the feeling of thick bandages padding your hip acutely registering as you spoke.

“Probably.” He nodded softly. “You also probably saved that boy Hernandez by taking the bullet, so I’d say they were well earned. Besides, they’ll make an excellent target for my mouth one day.”

Your soft smile transformed into a look of disbelief, your free hand rising to whack his shoulder gently. “John Clarence Egan.” You chided half-heartedly and he pressed his face to the side of your head where it lay propped up against several pillows, his heavy exhale ruffling through your hair. “We are in a hospital, and you are making inappropriate jokes.”

“Mmmm.” He hummed in agreement, stroking his thumb against yours affectionately.

“Which hospital is this, anyway?” You asked curiously, finding its curved roof and white walls lacked distinguishing features.

“Redgrave Hospital, you serve in the Army Air Force after all.” He pulled back slightly to answer.

“Redgrave…” you repeated thoughtfully. “Sounds awfully English.”

“Hit the nail on the head, angelfish. We made it.” Bucky’s lips brushed against your temple, and you smiled softly. “Despite our best efforts.” His teasing made you laugh softly, and you shook your head.

“If we’re in England, where’s the King?” You raised an eyebrow expectantly and he smirked, shaking his head.

“No King, unfortunately, but I did bring you this?” He reached behind him, pulling out a newspaper to lay across your lap.

“Victory in Europe.” You read the headline aloud, pausing a moment as the words sunk in before gasping and looking to him wide-eyed. “Truly?”

A look of solemn earnestness overtook his features and he nodded softly. “Truly. German army surrendered yesterday.”

You gulped roughly and looked back to ready to date of May 8, 1945, on the top of the paper – you had lost nearly nine days. You really had been so close, everyone had. And the fact that you were here, and others were not seemed so very arbitrary. Sighing heavily, you squeezed his hand gently.

“By the skin of our teeth.” You murmured thickly, looking up as a nurse shuffled past with a faint nod of acknowledgement before making a sharp about-face to come and check your vitals.

“How’re you feeling?” She asked you and you nodded slowly.

“I’m alright, thank you. Bit foggy but things are the clearest they’ve been in days.”

“I’m going to fetch the Doctor.” The nurse turned to eye Bucky sharply. “You’d best make yourself scarce.” She commented before continuing on her way.

“How on earth did you get in here?” You raised an eyebrow as you came to realize how unusual his presence was.

“Bought my way in with a few bottles of champagne – your flightless comrades are quite friendly if one knows the price.”

You coughed out a laugh as the comment made Nurses sound like some species of bird and his lips twitched into a smile, your eyes unable to look away from the soft, rosy skin of his mouth.

“Hey before you go…”

“Hmmm?” He turned to you, half risen from his chair.

“I don’t have the mental capacity to think of something self-deprecating right now, so can I just get a kiss?” You murmured before pursing your lips shyly.

His face transformed into a warm smile, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners as the tips of his ears flushed pink. “I always said you just had to ask, angelfish.”

Echoing his smile, you turned your lips up expectantly as he braced his hand on the pillow beside your head, leaning in to gently brush his lips against yours, drawing a contented sigh from deep beneath your breastbone. Bucky’s lips pressed closer, a tender hum rumbling from his throat just as a sharp cough sounded from the end of the bed and he slowly pulled back with a rueful huff.

“Just checking her breathing, Doc.” Bucky grinned wolfishly as the man raised an eyebrow sharply. “She’s doing great.”

“Hn.” The doctor intoned, clearly unimpressed. “And how are your ribs doing, Major Egan?”

Inhaling sharply, you looked him over quickly, the litany of his injuries flooding back to you from your sub-conscious.

“Much better, thank you Doc. Who knew Smokey was such a gossip. Well, angelfish,” he brushed his knuckles down your cheek, “guess that’s my cue.”

Nodding slowly, wondering who on earth Smokey might be, you watched him leave before your Doctor took over, running through numerous checks with you before discussing the extent of your injury and the surgeries that had been performed to save your life. It was nothing short of remarkable, what they had thrown at you to prevent your death, the conversation a very sobering one. It would be a long road to recovery, and one, it turned out, you would mostly be taking back home in the United States.

After a week or so in Redgrave Hospital, you were deemed fit enough for transport back to the Zone of Interior for convalescence and recovery in a domestic hospital. Though the sympathetic nurses had not seen fit to permit Bucky onto the ward again, they had taken a shakily written note, the loss of strength you had suffered in just over a week was startling, and promised to deliver it to him. The trip via Prestwick to Greenland, then Newfoundland, and ultimately Grenier Field in New Hampshire felt luxurious on the much more spacious C-54. You were admitted to the Station Hospital there to continue your recovery and rehabilitation, enjoying phone calls with your family instead of delayed correspondence for a change.

It took two months for you to be fully back on your feet, back to yourself. The same amount of time, it seemed, for the 100th bomb group to be repatriated stateside. Freshly discharged and clad in a brand-new olive drab dress uniform, proudly bearing your silver 1st Lieutenant’s insignia following your promotion and the ribbons from your two purple hearts, you had sweet-talked your way back onto the base. One of the more sympathetic MPs who had heard your story – admittedly there were few in New Hampshire who had not heard your story at this point – had not even protested your request. It seemed that fate saw fit to land Major John Egan in your life a second time, with Grenier Field the destination for his bomb group on their return flight.

Standing in the warm summer breeze, watching the sky for the silhouettes of their planes, it honestly felt odd to be wearing a skirt. The complexity of affixing your stockings to the straps of your garter belt had briefly made you long for the convenience of slacks, but with your properly cut and styled hair and feminine clothing you felt like an entirely new woman as you stood outside on the grass with the ground crew. Would Bucky even recognize you?

At last the distant droning of aircraft engines reached your, and everyone around you’s, ears, the shapes of B-17s multiplying on the horizon before they began to circle in for a landing. Honestly, there were so many of them you briefly doubted you would be able to find him with any manner of efficiency. Clamping a hand over your officer’s cap to hold it in place as a plane taxied onto a nearby hardstand, your eyes began to scan the crowd of men as they filtered past, surely headed for the mess hall or officer’s club. Catch a glimpse of those unmistakable ears, you stepped forward and called out to him.

“John Clarence Egan!”

His head whipped around so fast he nearly took out the man walking beside him.

“Do I really look so different in a skirt that you would walk right by me?” You teased fondly.

“Angelfish!”

His flight bag hit the asphalt with a sickening ‘crunch’ that had you worried for its contents, but the impact of his body against yours drove that thought quickly from your mind. Wrenching his cap from his head he tilted his face to nestle beneath the brim of yours and kiss you soundly. Distantly, you were aware of all manner of cheers and wolf-whistles from his comrades, but you were too busy clutching at his shoulders to truly mind.

“How did you-? What are you-? God, it’s good to see you.” He rambled before pressing his mouth against yours firmly, not even giving you the opportunity to reply.

Laughing brightly into the kiss, you became vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps approaching much nearer and pulled back slowly, smiling fondly as Bucky’s lips made as if to chase yours, but his friend’s question interrupted him.

“You gonna introduce us, John?” A tall blond man with striking blue eyes and a pair of unsettlingly symmetrical facial scars asked sardonically.

Bucky cleared his throat and stepped back, though you noted his arm slid around your waist in a rather proprietary move. You found you did not mind in the least, particularly as your fully healed wound gave no protest of pain whatsoever.

“Angelfish, this Gale Cleven – call him Buck, Robert Rosenthal – Rosie, and Harry Crosby – Croz.” He followed up by introducing you by your full name.

“He give you that nickname, too?” The one he told you to call ‘Buck’ raised an eyebrow and you laughed.

“It’s a long story….”

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

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @luminouslywriting, @softspeirs, @sunny747, @storysimp, @slowsweetlove, @httpsmoon, @buckysegan, @justheretoreadthxxs, @precious-little-scoundrel, @jointherebellion215, @timetowastetime8, @mads-weasley

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #major john egan x reader #john egan x you #john egan fic #john egan imagine #john egan #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction

165 notes · View notes

zennryu · 1 year

Text

In your care — 707 x reader

Note: Am I addicted to Saeyoung Choi and the sick reader trope? Yes. Yes I am.

"Y/n?" was all that the members kept asking in the chatroom as they wondered where you went. You were in the middle of explaining the theme for the next party before you just...stopped replying.

"Shit." Seven muttered as he glanced at your passed out body from the cctv. Not even bothering to change from his pajamas and bed hair (or think about the consequences aka Vanderwood), he hurriedly drove to your apartment using the fastest among his babies.

"Y/n..?" he called out once getting inside Rika's apartment only to find your body still passed out in the same place he saw minutes ago.

He rushed to your side immediately checking your pulse and breathing. His moment of relief was short-lasting as he realized you were down with a heavy fever.

Carrying you over to your bed, he immediately looled around your kitchen for anything he could prepare for you before beaming at the sight of cup noodles (yes. thats the best you're going to get from his cooking skills)

"Saeyoung?" you called weakly as you caught a glimpse of a blurry red figure approaching you. "Oh good you're awake. Come on eat up." he motioned as he handed you your cup noodles.

Feeling too tired to eat, you immediately shook your head and covered yourself under the covers. "Agent 606 you need to eat!" he exclaimed.

"Come on~ The world needs your help agent! The plane is gonna crash!" The playfully exclaimed as he motioned the spoon of soup towards you like an airplane.

"Left them all die for all I care!" you whined. "Come on save atleast a few~" he insisted but you kept your mouth shut.

"Muah!"

You felt his lips on your forehead and gaped at him in shock as you felt your jaw drop. Grinning to himself, Seven entered the spoon inside your mouth before lifting your chin to close it. "Mission accomplished agent 606! Good job!"

You felt your cheeks grow warmer as you swallowed the soup.

"I know you're busy Saeyoung. Thanks for taking care of me." you mumbled as Saeyoung lifted the blanket higher to cover your neck.

"You really are...pretty handsome.." you mumbled tiredly as you looked at him one last time before dozing off.

Seven felt his inner programming start to malfunction at your words and suddenly felt his cheeks heat up. Why is it suddenly so hot in here?

"It's cause you have a fever!" you exclaimed as you woke up to a heavily sweating Saeyoung by your side and checked his temperature.

"Wear a mask next time alright!" You exclaimed before letting him lay on your bed.

"Achoo! But then you won't get to see my handsome face!"

605 notes · View notes

munsonluhvr · 7 months

Text

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME [PART 1]

synopsis: modern!cowboy!steve harrington x country!fem!reader | the small town you grew up in became unbearable by the time you graduated from high school. you fled to the big city, far away from farms, southern accents, and cows, leaving your family and friends behind. but, you return back to your hometown for a family wedding, and forced to confront someone from your past - steve harrington. word count -3.7k warnings: angst, complex friendships/family relationships. not spellchecked, but will be tomorrow.

𑁍 part 2 & part 3 coming soon...

Stepping off the airplane, the sun shines brightly in your eyes, acres, and acres of farm land outstretching in front of you. The heat is thick, nearly unbearable after sitting in a nicely air-conditioned plane for several hours. Your suitcase and backpack weigh heavily on your arms; you adjust to make them easier to carry.

“Y/n,” you hear off in the distance, and you make shade with your hand, squinting to look at the exit of the airport to see who’s calling your name. You see your grandmother, grandfather, and parents jumping up and down, waving their arms.

It’s been quite some time since you’ve been to your hometown, everything looking so familiar and foreign at once. Already, barely off the airplane, you notice how everything is so different from the city, from the environment, the sweet smell of grass and farm animals, the low hum of crickets and cicadas buzzing around. Even the people are different, the southern accents and cowboy boots, jeans splattered with mud and hard work. You know you’re home.

You hustle across the pavement, suitcases in tow. Your family rushes towards you with excitement, their arms and bodies embracing you with excitement. “It’s been far too long since I’ve seen my granddaughter,” your grandmother says, cupping your face in her soft, wrinkled hands. “I think I’m going to kidnap you, so you never disappear for years and years again.”

You laugh softly, comforted by the presence of your family, the people who know you best. You had fled this small hometown of yours, seeing something bigger and better. Though you had the greatest childhood memories, catching frogs in the creek, swinging for hours on the tire swing, cookouts at your grandparents farm, you felt as though there was something more, something else beyond small-town living. Though you aren’t sure you ever found it.

“C’mon, now. We got some surprises waitin’ for you back at the house.” Your grandfather says, ushering you towards the parking lot. All different sizes and colors of trucks filled the parking lot, shaggy dogs sitting patiently in the beds of the car. You groan. “Surprises?”

You barely had time to think as you and your family drove home, your grandparents and parents chattering and asking you endless questions about your life in the city. You answered each question, your eyes trained out the window as farms pass you by, multi-colored cows and horses looking back at you. The warm summer air blows through your hair, the thick heat causing sweat to accumulate at your hair line.

Rolling the wheels over the gravel and dirt driveway, your grandfather’s red truck bouncing side to side, you pull up to your grandparent’s large farmhouse, chickens scattered all across the lawn. There’s balloons, tied to the front step banisters, other cars parked alongside the driveway. “How many people are here?” you ask, looking between your family members in the car.

“Oh,” your grandmother says, looking over at you from the passenger seat, a mischievous smile on her mouth. “Just the whole town.”

You laugh softly, feeling already drained.

Your grandfather halts the car, your mom reaching over to rub your arm. “Don’t be overwhelmed.” You nod, biting at your bottom lip. You step out of the car, dusty dirty clouding your shoes.

“Go on in, I’ll get your bags.” Your father says, gesturing towards the car. You nod again, walking towards the house with your grandparents and mother. The front porch groans under your body weight, the frailness of the aged wood demonstrating how it should be replaced soon. You turn the doorknob, the chatter of voices coming to a halt as you let the door swing open, tens of eyes looking back at you.

In unison, countless people yell, ‘welcome home,’ bright smiles on their faces. As you look around, you recognize that it’s all of your grandparents friends, all of them looking older then the last time you saw them; some of your family members, your cousin who’s getting married in several days. You also recognize your friends from high school, most who decided to stay nearby after graduation, welcoming you back with excited faces. They all rush towards you, hands grazing your cheeks, soft pats on your back.

You greet people as they come up to you, your mind aching with overstimulation. The elderly guests tell you how much you’ve grown up, how beautiful you are; your friends catch you up on the latest gossip, what other classmates are up to; your family telling you how much they’ve missed you, how excited they are for your cousin to be getting married, the event bringing everyone together again.

“I’m so excited that you’re a bridesmaid,” your cousin, Heather, says. “I hope the wedding goes well – we’ve put so much effort into it.”

You hum, your mouth becoming dry. You feel the need to disappear. “It’ll go great, I’m excited to be a part of your special day.”

At last, you’re able to escape to the kitchen, searching your grandparents cupboards for a cup. You find one, turning the faucet on to let the ice, cold water rush out. You stick the cup under the faucet, taking sips as the cup fills.

“Never thought I’d see you again,” a deep voice says from behind you, causing you to turn around. Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach, your skin flushing with heat. Steve Harrington leans against the kitchen island, arms crossed in front of his chest. His blue jeans are splattered with dark paint, his boots stained by grass, a cowboy hat settled low on his hair, covering his infamous, brown hair.

You swallow, turning around to lean against the kitchen sink. “Steve?” Your heart thumps against your chest, churning begins in your stomach. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him.

Steve hums, nodding. “Barely recognize me?”

You shake your head. “Of course, I remember you. I could never forget you.” And despite that being true, you tried for many years to forget Steve.

He still looks as beautiful as he did in high school; time has been kind to him. Steve, of course, looks more like a man, his form filling in nicely. His bare arms are tanned, sun kissed, his arms strong and muscley. Even from where Steve stands, you can sense he must work on a nearby farm, his musk tangled with the smell of the outdoors and horses. “I’m surprised,” he says, an edge to his voice. “You ran away so fast after graduation; barely said goodbye.”

You lean against the kitchen sink farther, the edge of the counter cutting into your back. “You always knew that was the plan, Steve.”

You and Steve had been close in middle school, two peas in a pod. He was a true country boy, finding refuge in the time you both spent at your grandparent’s farm. Steve was always there to ride the horses, riding as far as your grandparent’s property allowed. He was the person you’d build forts with using fallen down trees, who taught you how to fish in the creek, capture lightening bugs in jars. You and Steve spent so many hours outside, seldom coming in before the stars were able to be seen against the dark, black sky, smelling like grass and summer air, fingernails caked with dirt.

In high school, you and Steve remained friends, but the adventures outside came to a close. You both got your own friend groups, though by living in such a small town everyone was friends with each other. You’d go to small parties; Steve would be there too. You’d watch the football games in the stands, Steve would be beside you, a blanket in his hands to throw over your laps. You always knew Steve cared for you, always be there to swoop you up in his beloved pick-up truck.

Steve shrugs, crossing his boots as he leans against the kitchen island. “A lot of time has passed, I guess. How’s the big city?”

You open your mouth to respond, suddenly feeling vulnerable in front of Steve, as if you’ve met the person you feel like you can confess to that the world isn’t particularly great when you get out of your hometown’s limits, but your grandmother comes barreling in to the kitchen; her hands clasp when she sees that you and Steve stand only a foot away from each other, talking for the first time in years. “Look at you two together; it’s almost as if no time has passed.”

You smile, looking down at the floor, as your grandmother makes her way over to you and Steve. She outstretches her arms, placing them on yours and Steve’s bicep. “I just wanted to tell you Steve that the horses need to be brought in from the pasture, there’s going to be a storm tonight and they should be in the barn.”

You frown, looking between your grandmother and Steve. “Nana, why would Steve bring in the horses; I can do it.”

Your grandmother laughs, placing a hand on her mouth. “I guess I forgot to tell you, but Steve works for your grandfather and I now, works for the farm.”

You nod slowly, your eyes landing on Steve. You suppose you aren’t surprised; Steve always loved the farm as if he was a part of the land himself. Steve nods too, looking towards your grandmother. “I’ll get right on that. I’ll see you around y/n.” Steve steps away from you with a curt nod, exiting the house from the kitchen door that leads out to the backyard.

“Such a nice young man.” Your grandmother hums, watching the curtains flow with warm summer air. Outside, the sky has darkened inch by inch, dusk beginning to creep over the town. “He’s a hard worker too. Always asks me what you’re up to in the city and what not.”

You raise your eyebrows, glancing at your grandmother. “Oh?”

Your grandmother smiles when she finds you looking at her, a curious look on your face. “Oh yeah. I think he’s always been in love with you, ever since you were little, out running through the fields like wild things.”

Your cross your arms over your chest, clearing your throat. “That’s not true, grandma, we’ve always been good friends.”

Your grandmother hums, then shrugs, turning back towards the living room where house guests still mingled. “You’d be surprised,” your grandmother says over her shoulder, walking out of the kitchen. “How distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

The next morning you wake up in your childhood bedroom, with a raging headache. Mingling with friends and family proved to be an exhausting task, overstimulating too. As you wake up, you look around your room, trinkets bringing back memories in an instant.

You see your vanity, old pieces of makeup and perfume scattered around the countertop, pictures of your friends wedged in between the mirror and its frame. On your shelves, old, tattered books about horses are wedged in between glass figurines of horses, their sparkly eyes staring back at you. Horse ribbons, royal blue, and bright red, hang from all corners of your room. You feel comforted by your things, the memories like pieces of candy, sweet and savory.

The window is open halfway, the curtain billowy as it blows in the wind, warm summer air making its way into your room. Faintly, you smell food cooking, bacon and pancakes wafting through the air. Your stomach growls loudly and you decide it’s best if you get up for the day.

In your pjs, you creep down the staircase, noticing that everyone else’s bedroom doors are open and vacant. Once you get to the kitchen, you see your parents and grandparents, and the family dog, sitting around the kitchen table.

“Nice of you to join us,” your mother says, stabbing at a piece of scrambled eggs. “Grab yourself some breakfast.”

The kitchen is bright with light, slightly messy with bowls of batter, cracked egg shells covering the countertops. “What are your plans for today, y/n?” your grandfather asks, watching you put together your breakfast.

You shrug. “Heather needs me to do one last fitting for the dress later today but that’s it. I’ll probably just hang around here today.”

“Might as well go to the barn,” you grandmother says. “I bet the horses miss you.”

Your father hums, sipping from his cup of orange juice. “That would be nice to see you at the barn again, spending time with the horses. To see you be a country girl again instead of a city girl.”

Everyone at the table laughs, even you, but your grandmother groans. “I don’t know how you bear living in the city, living in the country is so much better.” You bite into a piece of bacon, the sweetness of it mouthwatering; bacon isn’t this fresh in the city.

You smile as you notice how you agree with your grandmother; your younger self would be so disappointed. “Very true, grandma.”

After breakfast, you venture up to your room again. You feel like your old self again, almost a glimpse of the past, as you pull your boots on, a pair of throwaway jeans fastened by your old turquoise belt you saved up for in high school. It’s been a long time since you’ve been near horses, or been in a barn, and you’re ready to get your hands dirty.

You make your way out of the farmhouse, taking the dirty path to get to the freestanding yard out in the field. Though it still looks the same, the red paint has chipped off, exposing the brown wood of the structure. The field is fenced off with white rails, the horses walking happily through the tall grass, bending their long necks down to graze. As you approach the barn, the sweet yet tangy smell of horses accumulates you, tickling your nose.

Inside of the barn is cool, a nice refuge from the sun that beats down outside. Chickens run aimlessly down the center aisle, clucking with alarm, little bits of hay and grain crunch underneath your feet. You notice some of the horses have chosen to navigate their way inside to their shady stalls. You walk down the aisle, noticing how your grandparents have bought new horses. You get to the end of the barn, looking out to the tree line that meets the vast and open farm property. You look to your right and see a plaque hanging on the door: ‘Dolly’

You can hardly believe it as a light brown horse blinks back at you. Dolly is your childhood horse, you’re sure she’s elderly now. You open the stall door, reaching your hand out as the horse greets you happily. You decide to pull her out to give her a groom.

After tying her to the wall, and getting your supplies, you begin to brush Dolly, each sweep calming you immensely. You work in silence, only the sounds from the farm animals fill the silence. That is until a figure appears at the end of the door – Steve.

You look back at Dolly, training your eyes on her. Though it’s not line that makes you invisible; Steve clears his throat as he sees you standing in the aisle.

“Hey,” Steve says, a bag nearly the same size of him in his arms. He plunks it down on several bales of hay and you read that it’s horse feed.

“Hey,” you say, looking back at Dolly.

“It’s like I’ve seen a ghost,” Steve says, glancing at you, then picking up a bale of hay, carrying it towards the end of the barn. “Seeing you in here.”

You frown, your arm slowing to moving in small circles. “What do you mean?”

Steve shrugs, his face obscured from the darkness of the barn, his outline only clear to you. “We used to be in here together all the time, remember? Then when you left it’s been just me. It’s like a flashback to high school when I see you, here and now, with Dolly.”

You suck your cheeks in, chewing on the insides of your cheek. “Oh.”

You watch as Steve pulls bolt cutters from his back pocket, clipping the string that holds the hay together apart. “It’s a good thing. I like it.”

You clench your jaws, nodding slowly. “So, you work at the farm now?”

Steve nods, pulling flakes of hay off. “Started right after graduation, never stopped.”

“You always did love the farm; I think even more then me.”

Just then, Steve laughs, standing up to look towards you. “Remember all the fun times we had? When we’d stay out so late until your grandparents would come looking for us with flashlights? Man, those were the times; I think about those memories a lot.”

You smile, beginning to brush Dolly quicker. “I also remember when you’d scare me with frogs, holding them up to my face and letting them jump on me. That never stopped in high school either, you knew I hate frogs.”

Steve hums, a playful smile on his face. “I guess I kind of had a crush on you back then. But don’t worry, I’m over that now.”

Silence rolls over you and Steve, his confession startling you. Steve liked you at one point? Suddenly you remembered what your grandmother had said in the kitchen last night. How had you never realized that?

Steve clears his throat. “Are you going riding?”

You shrug, glancing at Dolly. “I was thinking about it. Want to join?”

Steve looks at the hay he was disassembling. He shrugs. “I guess I could spare a few minutes.”

You smile, then nod. “Great.”

You and Steve tack up the horses in silence, dancing around each other as you grab the saddles. Once you’re set to go, you use a bale of hay to mount Dolly, lining up behind Steve as you both guide the horses out to the pasture.

Your skin automatically gets hot under the sun, the temperature a big difference from the shade in the barn. The crickets chirp loudly, the breeze blowing the tall grass lightly. You and Steve guide the horses along the perimeter of the fence, going at a slow lope. As you ride along the farm, you remember all the places you and Steve would play, skin slight with sweat as you imagined yourself as a princess and a knight, as cowboys running along the train tracks.

You remember the twinkle in Steve eyes, how his chubby cheeks would turn pink from sun exposure and exhaustion, his knees covered in scrapes and dirt. You smile to yourself, as you imagine the young version of Steve coaxing you to jump from the swing that was tied to a tree branch into the stream, or how he carried you back home when you twisted your ankle, tears threatening to spill out.

“What’re you smiling for?” Steve asks, glancing over at you, his face shaded by his hat. He holds his reins in one hand, letting his other hand rest on his thigh. He guides his horse close to you, your legs nearly brushing.

You smile, shaking your head. “Just thinking about the mischief, we got up to when we were kids.”

Steve smiles, looking ahead of him. “Those were the good days. High school wasn’t bad either. Just too bad you had to leave us.”

You glance at Steve. “Not like anything would have changed if I stayed.”

Steve shrugs, glancing back at you. “Us not talking for years would have changed.”

You glance away, looking straight ahead. “I know, I’m sorry for not keeping in touch.” Steve shrugs, shaking his head. “You did what you had to do; I know this town always felt too small for you. Did you ever find what you were looking for?”

You shake your head. “No,” you say simply.

Steve nods, letting silence come in between you two again. You ride next to each other, letting the memories roll through your minds.

You ride for the next little while, until you hear a loud bell ring from the farmhouse. Even from far away, you can see your grandmother’s body standing on the porch, her arms waving. It must be time to get your dress fitted.

“I should probably get back,” you say, beginning to turn Dolly around. “Heather needs me to get my bridesmaid dress fitted one last time.”

Steve nods, following you as you head back towards the barn. “I’ll race you.” Steve says, kicking his horse forward before you can object. You gently kick Dolly forward knowing Dolly is no match for Steve’s much youthful horse.

Once you and Steve get to the barn and down from your horses, you walk the horses into the barn, retying them to the wall. You work quickly, knowing Heather gets impatient with time.

“You know,” Steve says, pulling his saddle off, “Jason Carver is having a little get together tomorrow. You should swing by – or I could pick you up.”

You nod, tossing Steve a smile. “Yeah, sure, that sounds fun. We could catch up too.”

Steve nods, returning a tight-lipped smile. “Okay, great.”

You pat Dolly as you return her to her stall, watching as she goes straight for her hay, You walks towards the door, turning to glance at Steve. “Thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow.”

Steve waves, watching as you turn around, your legs tanned from the time you just spent out in the sun. His heart squeezes as he remembers you, thinking of the way his younger self would spend all day together, out in the field together, then how he’d go home and lay in his bed exhausted, but his mind would race as he’d replay the day over in his mind.

Then he remembers how in high school, he would watch you with your friends, how you switched your tom-boy clothes for skirts, and the feeling he had when realized he loved you and that seeing you in skirts made his day. Steve, as he watches your walk back to the farmhouse, how he loved to be near you, the late-night drives home from small get togethers or sitting with you at the football games. How your face lit up against the stadium lights, how you’d cheer, a toothy smile on your face.

Steve has had so many questions, relying on your grandmother to feed him pieces of information about your life in the city, wondering if you have a boyfriend in the city, if you miss being in the country or miss him. Now here you are, like a gift from heaven. Now you’re back home – right where you left him.

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x y/n #cowboy!steve harrington

191 notes · View notes

sweetiepoison · 4 months

Text

Famous Baby (Social Media Blurb)

Note: a little sneak peek into the next part 🫣

Liked by yourusername and others

latenightseth: @yourusername and I sat down to recap our day drinking that led to (y/n) having to be carried out. You don’t want to miss it!

Load more comments…

Fan#1: I love how progressively unhinged (y/n) gets during the day drinking segment

Yourusername: Thanks for having me and letting me embarrass myself all over again!

Fan#2: This isn’t an interview, this is two besties debriefing after a wild time out and I’m here for it

Fan#3: The way they have two totally different pov’s. (y/n)’s like “yeah I was fine and then I woke up in my bed” and Seth was like “No you got hammered and had to be carried out.”

Fan#4: The way she talks about her boyfriend, you can tell home girl is in love 😍

Fan#5: Let’s not skip over the fact it was Auston who carried her out of the bar

->Fan#6: And it not being the first time!

->Fan#7: Auston doesn’t even need to workout, carrying (y/n) around is his workout

->Fan#8: You know he stays tossing her around

->Fan#9: Yoo thats crazy to say

->Fan#10: nah it’s valid

Fan#11: Can we circle back around to @yourbff#1 totally calling them out and everyone on set just thinking they were hooking up in the bathroom

->Fan#12: my jaw dropped when Seth threw that in

->Fan#13: and you can tell (y/n) was not expecting that, girly got real giggly

->Fan#14: If Auston was my boyfriend I would be acting the same way

Fan#12: Seth sneaking in all the leafs content, he’s really out here doing God’s work

Fan#13: @yourusername thanks for being like the rest of us and honest. You embraced the embarrassment and totally owned it!

Fan#14: (y/n) casually dropping @stephmarner’s name

Fan#15: on a serious note I just want to say how much I love and respect Seth meyers. He obviously has met her boyfriend and knows who he is, but doesn’t name drop once. This is a hot topic right now so being the first to “find out” and report it would be big, but he isn’t doing that. There were a few suggestive questions, but that kept the segment light and funny! Also he didn’t give out the reason why the interview ended so abruptly and just said (y/n) needed to go home. He allowed her to lead the conversation and share as much or little about both the situation and her boyfriend. All around great conversation with two great people!

->yourusername: THIS ^^^^

Fan#16: THE AIRPLANE QUESTION👀

->fan#17: I nearly choked when he asked that

->Fan#18: So did (y/n)

->Fan#19: LMAO Seth had our girl stressing with some of these questions

Fan#20: I would sell one of my kidney’s to get drunk with @yourusername

->Fan#21: You might need to sell it to her after that segment 💀

Yourbff#1: I’m gonna watch that segment anytime I get hangxiety to feel better about myself

->Yourusername: no need to rewatch it, I’ll reenact it for you in real time

Yourbff#2: (y/n) 🤝 the bar bathroom floor

->Yourusername: I’m screaming stfu😭 my home away from home

Fan#22: Ahh I love (y/n) she’s so unserious

Fan#23: No ones roasting her as much as she’s roasting herself

->Yourbff#2: nah her boyfriend is probs chirping her the hardest

->yourusername: I can confirm he is

->Fan#22: I love this relationship 💙

#famous reader #hockey #maple leafs #nhl blurb #nhl #toronto maple leafs #hockey imagine #celebrity reader #nhl imagine #justin bieber #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews #social media #hockey blurb #blurb

87 notes · View notes

lit3rallyll0yd · 1 year

Text

๋࣭ ⭑ taking care of you when your sick. request. bsd x reader

@perfectlyjollyland

gender: gender neutral

type: scenario/short imagine

characters: dazai, chuuya, atsushi, akutagawa, kunikida, and ranpo

warnings: lowercase writing

๋࣭ ⭑ dazai gives you all the love and attention you could ask for! you don't even need to ask, this man is all over you. doesn't give a shit if he's at the risk of getting sick! when your sick, this is his moment to be michivious. "you look like rudolph.." he teased, feeding you another spoonful of chicken soup. you glared at him, your body covered in a fuzzy blanket and tissue boxes all over the bed. he had his trench coat off, resting against the handle of your door, meaning...he is not leaving until you feel better. work? since when did he ever go? "shut up.." you growled, taking one last bute before finishing the bowl. dazai chuckles, putting the bowl on the ground beside your bed. he moved closer to you, cuddling in on you. "dazai..no..i'll get you sick-" "that sounds like a future me, problem~" you sighed, playing with his hair as he rests his head on your chest. "can you get me take-out?" he smiled playfully, "don't push it, 'donna.."

๋࣭ ⭑ chuuya does what he can here and there to help you feel better. no matter what you say, "chuuya, it was a tiny cough-" "that's how it starts! next thing we know you're in a hospital bed!" tells the boss to give you day offs and when you come back to work, he says to take things slow. "come on, babe! drink the medicine!" chuuya begged, holding a spoonful for (any flavor) medicine. you turn your head, "no! taste like ass!" your boyfriend sighed, "it will make you feel better. i can't stand seeing you in pain." if you said either yes or no, you opened your mouth and took a drink of the medicine. chuuya chuckled at your resistance to barfing it up, "there we go.." he would do this every couple of hours, having to usual chase you, but you always end up taking it. i wanna add this real quick, he holds your hair back (if it's long enough) when your throwing up.

๋࣭ ⭑ atsushi sat on your lap, a spoonful of medicine in his hand, hovering it in front of your mouth. "here comes the airplane~" he sang, making a propeller noise with his lips. you laughed, taking the spoonful of medicine and scrunched your nose, "bleh.." your boyfriend smiled, stepping off you to put the medicine away. when your sick, he's full-on MOM he is going to whatever he can to help. cuddles? 100% dinner? what do you want? sleep? he'll leave you be if you want him to. finds it cute how the littlest of things make you tired. carries you around the apartment and he has no problem doing so. he also forms his arms into his uhhh weretiger form and you rest your head on his fur- ITS SO CUTE<3 he was 99% in the risk of getting sick, so days after you recovered...he got sick :( now it's your turn to return the love he gave you<3

๋࣭ ⭑ akutagawa is asking every 5 minutes how your feeling and if he can do anything? dude, you just want to sleep. you don't get mad with him though, you just call him over to you and hug him, pulling him into the bed with you and cuddled into his side. he lays there, unsure what to do. however, he moves his arms around your waist and hugs you. if you sneeze, you have to kind of sneeze into his coat- which...is kinda gross but he doesn't mind...your sick! attempts to cook for you, but ended up burning the pot..making burnt chicken soup....he ended up just ordering your dinner and you both share it. he's pretty good and bribing you into eating the medicine, it kinda scares you. he gets kinda scared when your sick because he has no idea how long it will take for you to get better :(

๋࣭ ⭑ kunikida shouts, "Y/N! WHAT ARE YOU DOING AT WORK! YOU HAVE A FEVER!" everyone looks at you, causing you to blush. your nose was runny(just a little) and your undereyes were a light black. "but..donuts.." you pout, pointing to the box on the table. kunikida sighed, taking a donut out from the box and walked toward you, pushing you out of the door and down the hall. he handed you the donut, watching you take a bite out of it. "i told you to stay in bed..." he rubbed your nose with a tissue, throwing it out as you both walked out of the agency. "but it got boring without you.." you rested your head on his shoulder as you both waited for a taxi to drop you off home. kunikida literally doesn't want you to move a muscule...he has to trouble doing things for you. doing your paperwork, making your foods, carrying you around your home, or running hot baths and showers for you<3 makes sure you eating healthy and keeping your body healthy when you get better.

๋࣭ ⭑ ranpo boops your nose, "i know your sick, y/n~" you sighed, moving your computer away from your lap. "congrats insepcter gadget, you cracked the code!" he giggled, "i always do!" last night you went to bed not feeling well. you just thought it was dinner, but when you woke up this morning barfing on your toilet. to your surprise, or not, ranpo came over to take care of you. don't even bother arguing with him,he is going to be taking care of you and babying you. he doesn't let you do anything. "ranpo, i can feed myself. my arms are fine-" "shshshsh- less talking, more chewing..now, open wide~" rolling your eyes, you gave in to your boyfriend babying you. when do you end up feeling better, he will be accpeting thank you's<3 aaaaand maybe even a kiss or more on the lips😚

325 notes · View notes

writersdrug · 11 months

Text

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 7)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: It's time for your first mission working with Kortac. You're stuck reminiscing on the past, accidentally drawing similarities between it and the present. Additionally, you see a new side of Konig.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, semi-public sex, cursing, gore, blood, violence, bad attempts at using military terms (listen I tried to do my best researching this but obviously I ain't in the army)

Notes: Hey! Procrastination is a thing... and it had me in a chokehold these last few weeks. But - and I know I say this often - hopefully I'll get something else posted either tonight or tomorrow. Thanks for your patience and your kind comments - I love hearing them!

Ghost dragged me by the hand through the airplane hanger, making me stumble to keep up with him. He walked with purpose in his step, his eyes focused on his own thoughts. I bit my lip as I jogged behind him, excitement bubbling in my veins. He had sent me the usual “you up?” text – now, we were running around, trying to find a secluded but dangerously public place to satisfy our urges; something that was beginning to become a weekly occurrence.

He stopped in front of the ramp to the C-130 – one of the largest airplanes on base, used for carrying soldiers before they were airdropped. I looked at him with a confused expression.

Ghost was already looking at me, waiting for my reaction. He tilted his head towards the plane suggestively, gripping my hand tighter.

I suddenly understood what he was hinting at. “On a plane?!” I said with disbelief. “It’s not even in the air, what’s the point?”

Ghost huffed. “You said you wanted something other than my bed.” He replied with an accusatory tone. “What did you expect, your bed?”

I grimaced. Imagining Soap in the room across the hall, listening to me and Simon – and most likely getting off to it – it was the last thing I wanted to happen. “No… but an airplane?”

“Just trust me, ok?” Ghost tugged my hand, leading me onto the aircraft. “Bloody picky, you are.”

“I’m not picky, I just have common sense…” I muttered. Ghost ignored me.

I scowled as he dragged me further into the cargo hold. We moved towards the back, which was rather cramped, even though it was empty. Ghost sat down on one of the seats, close to the cockpit, and spread his legs. The space was small and awkward, and only allowed his left knee to move a few inches. He grumbled, getting up and moving down a seat, where he finally spread his legs apart. He finished the display with a smirk behind his mask, leaning back into the seat.

I watched the entire thing with my arms folded over my chest. “This is ridiculous…” I muttered, turning back towards the ramp.

“Why?” Ghost asked, slightly offended. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back to face him.

I gestured to him, huffing out a laugh. “Just - this! There isn’t enough room for the both of us, the door’s wide open, so someone could just walk in and – “

“They’re not going to see us, Bonnie.” Ghost pulled me by the backs of my thighs and down onto his lap. I grabbed his shoulders as I felt myself sliding off of him, and he gripped my hips to hold me in place. “Relax, love.” He drawled.

For a moment, my heart stuttered. It was the first time he had called me something so endearing… although it was probably force of habit. I stilled my heart – it was never good when it got too involved in anything.

“If we do get caught-“

“I’ll pull rank.” Ghost stated matter-of-factly. He sat on the edge of the seat, allowing me to shuffle closer to his torso. He held my hips down as he slowly pushed his own into me, sending arousal shooting through my abdomen and making me gasp at the feeling. He pushed his balaclava above the bridge of his nose, then pulled me down by the nape of my neck and captured my lips in a kiss.

I moaned into the kiss in satisfaction; his hands on my hips and the taste of him – cigarettes and the whiskey he’d downed earlier that night – felt like a reward after the long day. I ground my hips against his crotch, feeling his hard length straining through the fabric of his cargo pants. He let out a low, guttural groan, running his hand further up my back. In a second, I raised my arms over my head, and he pulled my shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the aircraft.

He looked at me for a moment, kneading the flesh at my hips as his eyes danced over my skin. “You changed your mind rather quickly.” He said with a cocky grin.

“Shut up…” I replied.

Ghost quickly smacked the side of my ass, making me yelp in surprise. He then grabbed my chin, not roughly, but enough to capture my attention. I stared at him with wide eyes.

“Care to try that again?” he asked in a cautioning tone.

“’M sorry!” I said quickly through smushed cheeks.

“’Sorry’ what?”

“’M sorry, sir.”

“Atta girl…” he drawled in a deep voice, before releasing my chin. I couldn’t stop the needy whine that came from my throat. I started grinding my hips on his crotch again, urging Ghost to continue.

He chuckled. “Pretty little slut – do you need me?” he asked, and I immediately nodded. “Use your words, love. Tell me what you want.”

I felt myself clenching around nothing at his deep, gravelly voice. “I- I want you inside me, Ghost.” I admitted quietly.

Ghost clicked his tongue. “Didn’t catch that, doll. Speak up for me.”

I fought a scowl rising in my throat. “I want you to fuck me.” I stated firmly. Normally, I wouldn’t stand for being humiliated like this – except I wasn’t standing. I was straddling Ghost’s lap, grinding on him like a bitch in heat, and following his every order like my life depended on it. And, honestly… I wouldn’t have had it any other way. And I would never fold like this, or let myself be bossed around, for any other man – not in a million years.

Ghost laughed. “Well, before we get that far…” he began unbuttoning my pants, igniting the fire in my lower abdomen. I bit my lip impatiently, watching his hands take their sweet fucking time as they worked down the zipper.

“… I need to get you ready f’me, yeah?” Ghost said teasingly. In the next moment, he pulled down the waistband of my underwear and slid two fingers past my clit.

I sucked in a short breath between my teeth, digging my nails into Ghost’s shoulders as he flicked his fingers over my clit. There was no rhyme or reason to the rhythm, making each flick send jolts of pleasure from my cunt and into my chest.

“Goddamn, there you go…” Ghost cooed as he watched my face contort from the pleasure.

“Bonnie?”

I started bucking my hips as Ghost traced along my lips, groaning as he watched me unravel myself above him. I could tell he was getting off from my obedience – the way I threw my stubbornness to the wind whenever he had control of me was like a drug to him.

“Hey, Bonnie-“

“Look at you.” He commented. I opened my eyes when I heard him unbuckling his belt. I looked down at him – I could see his pupils had dilated, and he was now panting in desire. Even he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Fucking finally…” I whispered.

“Quiet.” He ordered as he pushed his pants down his legs. He pulled out his-

“Bonnie!”

My eyes widened as I was snapped back to the present. I had been staring – glass-eyed and pupils blown wide – at the exact same seat Ghost and I had sat in earlier. Except, I wasn’t on that same plane. I was on Kortac’s C-130 as it flew us out to the mission point.

I looked to my left – Konig was bent over, hands on his knees, staring at me with a confused expression.

“You alright?” he asked. “Is the mini-you in your head bothering you?”

I scoffed. He hasn’t let me live that down ever since I mentioned it. “I’m fine, Colonel. Just tired.”

He straightened up, towering above me at his usual, freakish height. “Well wake up. We’re almost there. Let’s see if you’re as good as Ridgeback says you are.” He then walked away, pulling out his tablet and fiddling with it. It looked comically small in his hands.

Roze shifted in the seat next to me. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s always bossy right before we rendezvous. Gets him in the game, I think.” She tightened her tactical vest around her waist.

“I’d hate to see him on a bad day…” I mutter in her direction.

“You and me both. Imagine a bear, with a gun, on- I don’t know, cocaine or something…” She replied, earning a chuckle from me.

I looked back at Konig. He sat down in the same seat I was staring at moments before. He leaned back, resting his head against the wall and spreading his legs wide. He placed his hands on his thighs. He breathed deeply, like he was trying to calm his nerves. I dragged my eyes over his form – he was huge – I never really paid attention to just how large he really was. He was lean, slightly on the more muscular side, but he had to be pushing… six-eight? Six-nine? I looked at the girth of his thighs. I imagined what it would feel like to straddle his lap… Would it be comfortable? I thought about how Ghost and I had sat in that seat… Except I imagined Konig in Ghost’s position, his large hand on the small of my back, his torso against mine, his fingers in my-

Fuck. I was getting in over my head. I had to stop.

Konig looked at me, his head still leaning against the wall, locking his eyes with mine.

FUCK. I turned my head away quickly – too quickly. I can’t do this. I can’t let this happen again. I pointed my head down at my feet, pretending the floor was more interesting than Konig.

Don’t do this. Don’t do this, y/n. Remember how bad it ended last time? Why you ended up working for Kortac in the first place? You don’t want that again. Just focus on the mission. Focus on your job.

When I looked back at Konig, he was looking at the ceiling. I thought, if I concentrated enough, that I could see his brow furrowed under his mask. His hands were still on his thigs, but they were now tense, gripping at his thick muscles through his pants. His fingers were long, rough, and sturdy, his nails were short… I couldn’t help but drift back to the image of them plunged into my-

Konig’s eyes darted towards mine.

I huffed and looked away again, at the opposite end of the plane. Fucking get it together… I felt my face flushing – as long as I didn’t look in his direction, he wouldn’t see it… right?

I sighed. I need to be spayed…

-----

“Briefing hostages. Stand-by ‘til further notice.” Roze’s voice echoed over the comms. She, Juno, Oni, and Zero had made it to the hostages. Castillo had helped get them there smoothly, and now it was up to Konig, Horangi, O’Connor, Fender, and I to finish taking out the check points. Majka, Ridgeback’s second-in-command and our current operator, had cut comms for the enemy. Konig and Horangi had already started clearing their checkpoints – there wasn’t much coming from their end of the comms, so I assumed they were managing fine.

I made it to the top of the tower I was in, hiding behind the wall outside of the checkpoint I needed to clear. The entire location of the rendezvous was run down – possibly an old, abandoned power plant. The buildings were in a deteriorating state, making it slightly harder to work my way closer to the enemy soldiers in the room. But I was good at being quiet, so I managed.

I carefully peered around the edge of the doorway – the hallway outside of the room was dark enough to conceal me from the soldiers. Two were positioned outside of another wing in the room; one was facing forwards, staring at the room in front of him and guarding the door at his side. The other was looking out the window, completely ignoring the room he was supposed to be guarding. Inside the room appeared to be three more soldiers, two of them sitting at a computer and bitching about the comms being broken, and the third tweaking his sniper foxhole.

They’re a mess… I thought to myself. I smirked, knowing this would be an easy take-down.

“Bonnie to Majka. I’m engaging.” I said into my comms.

A few moments of silence before he responded. “Clear, sergeant. Give ‘em hell.”

“Copy.”

I took a few deep, quick breaths, flooding the oxygen into my blood and keeping the adrenaline at bay. I jumped around the corner and sank a knife into a soldier’s neck. He gurgled and dropped his gun. Another soldier turned at the commotion – I ripped the same knife from the first body and threw it. Rather than shank him, the edge sliced across his jugular. He barely had enough time to lift his gun before he collapsed, grabbing his throat. I grabbed his body as it fell, quietly guiding it to the floor. I picked up my knife and sank to my heels, pressing myself against the wall. The doorway to the next room was to my left. I exhaled silently. In a swift moment, I snatched one of the fallen soldier’s gun and shouldered it. Never hurts to have another one.

I heard the guards in the other room, alerted by the sounds of the struggle. One of them rounded the corner – I hid in the shadow, waiting until he had fully stepped beyond the other room. I used my knife to slash across each of his Achilles tendons, easily cutting past the material of his boot. He fell with a loud cry – I quickly used the butt of my gun by bashing it against his head, knocking him out in two hits.

I saw one of the remaining two guards in the room through the doorway. I quickly threw my knife at him and lodged it in his neck, but not before he managed to pull the trigger on his gun. He fired a few shots as he went down, gun pointed at the ceiling and ricocheting off of the concrete. Before the last soldier could react, I quickly turned into the doorway, shooting him dead in the face with my gun. He flopped against the back of the wall, body twitching for a moment, before he went still.

I turned back around, looking at the third soldier, lying on the ground. I fired one last shot into his head, ensuring he was dead.

I exhaled heavily. Not my smoothest work, but still timely.

I stood in place, assessing the damage around me. The strong scent of iron began to overtake the room, blood seeping from each body. I pulled my knife out of the fourth soldier’s neck, wiping the blood off against his sleeve and sheathing it. I sighed and began scavenging through the bodies for anything useful.

“Bonnie, how copy?” Majka’s thick accent filtered through the comm.

“Checkpoint two cleared.” I responded. I ripped out the magazine from a gun identical to the one I stole, shoving it into my vest. “Upgrading my inventory a bit.”

“You just got started!” he said, a bit frustrated and shocked.

I gave the room a last glance. “And? I just got finished. What’s my next move?”

There was a brief pause. “O’Connor, how copy?”

The click of O’Connor’s comm came on, followed by the sounds of struggling and muffled punches and hits. “Fender and I are still occupied!” he grunted.

“Roze, position status.”

“Package secured, hostages briefed.” Roze’s voice was hushed.“Ready to move, and enemies inbound towards us.”

“Castillo, how copy?”

“One klick out, ready in FFP. Waiting for target.” Castillo responded.

“O’Connor?!”

“Busy!!” O’Connor said, irritated; the faint sounds of gunshots firing echoed in the background.

“Majka, this is Bonnie:” I said quickly among the commotion. “Sir, I’m in range to follow the package from here. I can clear the path with Castillo, I’ve got eyes up to the objective rally point.”

I heard a disgruntled sigh on the other end of the channel. “You don’t have your sniper rifle, Bonnie.” He said.

“My checkpoint had a foxhole. I’m set up with one.” I looked around me; the walls separating me from the outside weren’t that thick, but they would be enough to hide me. “I’ve got decent cover, too.”

“For fucks sake…” Majka sighed into the comm. “Then get on it.”

Immediately, I kneeled beside the sniper rifle the one soldier had been adjusting. I tweaked its position, changing its trajectory until I was satisfied. I unshouldered both of my guns, before sitting in front of the rifle and getting comfortable. I angled it until I saw the building where the hostiles were being kept in my scope.

“I’m in FFP.” I relayed over my comms. “Ready on your command, Majka.”

“Copy.” Majka replied. “Roze, you’re clear to move.”

I watched closely through my scope as Roze exited the building, followed by the hostages and the rest of the team. She led the group, Juno and Zero covering the sides, and Oni covering their six.

“Bonnie, Castillo, talk to me.” She said quietly.

“I eliminated three hostiles on your path, clear to move forward.” Castillo’s voice echoed.

I focused on the area to Roze’s nine ‘o clock. Three enemy soldiers were slowly making their way towards her – I quickly fired at them, taking two of them down with a single bullet as they were lined up perfectly. The third one ducked down, frantically scanning around to find where the bullet had come from. I aimed my crosshair at him and pulled the trigger at him – he dropped to the ground within the same second.

“Three more eliminated. Your nine is clear.” I said to Roze.

“Copy.” She replied.

I continued to scan ahead of their path with my scope. A few times, Juno and Oni fired to the right of the group, followed by a few shots from Castillo. I knocked out two more targets on their left. The rest of the path went smoothly, and they made it to the exfil point. I scanned what parts of the area I could see from my window, searching for any rogue soldiers that might be left. O’Connor and Fender had finished clearing their checkpoint by then. After a few more minutes of that, and the “ok” from Majka to pack up, it was clear that there wasn’t anyone left on the field besides the Kortac team members.

“Well, that was sloppy on their part.” I commented.

“Ridgeback said it would be.” Majka replied. “Said the hostiles were a big enough gang that ended up with powerful weapons, and just wanted some cash. Kidnapped an easy bunch of relatives of a government official. Probably thought they had a chance.”

I chuckled. “So the payout won’t be great, I’m assuming?” I shouldered my guns, grabbing the sniper rifle and exiting the room.

“Don’t be so sure about that…” Juno piped into the conversation, shouting over the sound of the helicopter blades. “Europeans officials are loaded. Plus, they typically pay a lot to save their reputation.”

“You mean their families?”

“Potato, potahto.” Juno replied.

The rest of us reconnected at the exfil point. As with most of the teams I had gone on missions with, I was the cleanest out of everyone. O’Connor and Fender looked tired and worn, blood splattering their uniforms, dropping their guns with their bags and collapsing onto the seats of the aircraft. Horangi, cleaner than some, seemed to be riding off of an adrenaline high, clapping everyone on their backs and declaring a mission well done – despite that it had been a rather easy one.

I dropped myself onto a seat and looked at my hands, only painted with a few smears of blood. I then leaned my head back against the wall. I thought of what I could have done better. I could have caught the one soldier sooner before he hit the ground – that would’ve kept the others from being alerted. I could have been quicker shooting the last one. Cutting the guys heels… that was flashy. Unnecessary. Same for throwing my knife the second time. I could have just shot the last two. Would have made things quicker.

Suddenly, I heard heavy bootsteps climbing the ramp to the plane. I casually opened one of my eyes, then the other, staring in shock.

Konig dragged himself up the ramp. He was covered in bloodstains, across his vest, his mask, his pants – he held his gun, the end of it spattered in blood. His knuckles were tight under his gloves as he clutched the barrel of the gun in one hand, the other hanging by his side. His shoulders were tense, heaving up and down with each, heavy breath, and his body language was laced with venom.

His eyes were the worst part; they peered through his mask, wide and blood-shot. They were dripping with a post-massacre adrenaline. They stared directly ahead as he appeared to calm himself. He looked like a wild animal that had just killed its prey – for fun.

He ripped out his mags and tossed his gun into the pile, taking a seat directly across from me and grabbing his tablet. He began aggressively punching the buttons on it, his eyes still sinister and cold. He muttered under his breath in German, his voice low and gravelly.

I shivered slightly, before looking away from him and back at the ceiling. Is this what Roze was talking about? I thought.

---

Taglist: @igotmajordaddyissues @princekonig @vixionix

Let me know if you'd like to be added!! ^^^

#konig x reader #konig x reader smut #konig cod #konig smut #call of duty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #ghost cod #cod #konig #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader

315 notes · View notes

btsgotjams27 · 1 year

Text

don't push your luck | knj

you’re asked to present at an important meeting, but of course, your rival has to come along for the ride.

✨ title: don't push your luck | one-shot ✨ pairing: namjoon x f!reader ✨ genre/au: angst | ex college rivals, e2l, co-workers, one-bed trope ✨ rating: pg-18 | ✨ word count: 6.4k ✨ warnings: language, joon loves to call reader a lot of pet names, suggestive language, they're both kinda jerks to one another, they've also known each other for a long time (and slept together once), both are literary agents, mentions of surgery and cancer, banter, mentions of alcohol, they sleep in the same bed, there is a small hug, reader has misconceptions of joon, did i mention angst?, reader likes to blame namjoon for her shortcomings ✨ a/n: hi--so this was originally supposed to be out for joonie's birthday lmao and here it is a few weeks later. don't be afraid to let me know what you think. i love hearing from readers.

“Hold the door!”

A heaving sensation fills your chest and you feel out of breath. Everything you could imagine going wrong before a flight happened—your alarm wasn’t set, the Uber arrived late and hit every traffic light, security ‘needed’ to rifle through your suitcase for suspicious items, and the stupid expensive carry-on you purchased has given up on you.

“You made it just in time,” the attendant smiles and scans your plane ticket.

“Oh, thank god.”

You’re grateful to be in first class and now you can finally relax. It’s even better when you look at your row and the seat next to you is empty. There are a few glares from other passengers, but you don’t care–you’ve made it, and that’s all that matters.

When you settle into your seat, you check your phone for any last-minute work emails. The flight attendant announced the plane was ready to taxi for take-off. They ask everyone to be seated and buckled.

As you’re ready to plug your earbud in, you hear a muffled bang from behind. Peering over your shoulder, you realize you’re in the row before the bathrooms. Great, you think, that’ll be fun. You can hear clinking and clanking from the bathroom door along with someone shuffling out as the door slam shuts.

“Sir, please take your seat. We’re ready for take-off,” the flight attendant says.

The man clears his throat. “Oh, yes, of course. My seat’s right here.”

You look up to see none other than the person who has become the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. They say keep your friends close, but your enemies closer and he loved to be so close to you alright–everywhere you are to be exact.

Your jaw clenches as he plops down beside you. A few seconds later, a woman emerges from the bathroom. She brushes past the attendant, holding a card between her fingers as she peers down at Namjoon. “That was fun. Call me sometime,” she grins while walking away.

“You’re disgusting.” A shiver runs down your spine as one can assume what they were doing in there.

Namjoon gives you puppy eyes. “You’re so mean to me,” he pouts, folding his arms against his chest as he looks down. Not a split second later, he turns to you with a smirk. “I can rock your world whenever you want, angel.”

If only he could see the smoke fuming from your ears. He would never let that one time you slept with him go, would he? It was a moment of weakness you wish you could take back.

You scoff at his comment. “I can’t believe they just let anyone on airplanes now.”

His eyes rake over you. “I could say the same about you,” he retorts.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“What do you think I’m doing here, darling?”

Your body cringes at the stupid pet name. “Oh, I don’t know, to annoy the fuck out of me?” you say, flashing a wry smile.

“Ah, yes. That’s on my itinerary too, but you know I can’t resist an all-expenses-paid trip when it’s offered.”

This was your chance to make an impression on one of the biggest publishing houses. But with Kim Namjoon tagging along on this little trip? He will consume your thoughts because you can’t think of anything else when he’s around–plotting and scheming ways to take you down.

“Just stay out of my hair tomorrow.”

Namjoon sucks his teeth. “Wish I could, sweetheart. But, whatever Ms. Davis wants, she gets.”

A part of you wondered if Namjoon was sleeping with her to get to the top of the food chain, like the vulture he is. You shivered at the thought of the two in compromising positions. Namjoon’s college shenanigans were something that continued even into adulthood, you guessed.

The blinking cursor in this blank Word document has been mocking you, thinking you’re a clown. But you blame Kim Namjoon. He’s pushed his seat back, legs crossed and reclined, hands behind his head as he’s laughing obnoxiously at the movie on his computer screen. Every stifled laugh and clap has you rolling your eyes.

You can’t concentrate when he’s around, and that’s how it’s always been since sophomore year of college. The countless conversations with yourself because you had to be ready with a witty remark in case he is a smart-ass about anything and everything.

It was a sweet relief when you walked across that stage to shake the president’s hand and retrieve the rolled-up paper. And when you lifted your tassel from one side to the other, you exhaled because you never had to cross paths with him again.

That is four years into your job, and who shows up sitting in your office? None other than Kim Namjoon–your old academic rival.

You’re 29. No man should have you gritting your teeth, ready to claw at him. Then again, he’s no ordinary man–more like the devil incarnate. He makes your skin crawl. His presence makes you want to jump out of a window–because he’s suffocating, and the air in your lungs doesn’t exist.

Okay–maybe you’re exaggerating. But right now, you want to spill your glass of red wine just so he’ll have a stained shirt.

Your mouth twists as you nudge the giggly goon head. He takes off the noise-canceling headphones. “What?”

“Can you zip it? I can’t concentrate,” you say, repositioning in your seat.

Namjoon snickers. “Aw baby, you weren’t able to concentrate before I even started the movie. What makes you think me turning it off will help now?”

With a click of your tongue, you’re unsure why you even bothered asking him, so you return to your blinking cursor and blank document.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into New York City….” the announcement continues.

Guess it didn’t matter, anyway. You’ve spent two hours unproductive on a flight while Namjoon lollygags. At least you’ll have time to work on your presentation in peace when you get to your hotel.

You notice the way he walks and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder-practically about to drop, and you can’t forget the stupid overcoat that’s a tad too big for his frame. The crooked black tie contrasts against the crisp white button-down, and you want to help him fix it, only to make it snug enough to choke him a bit. It’s the way his cheeks lightly push against his thick black-rimmed glasses when he smiles, and his crescent eyes disappear, then immediately he widens them. It’s the way his hair falls perfectly above his glasses, and he daintily moves it away like the unflawed prince he is.

You hate you notice all these details about Kim Namjoon, but you’ve been around him long enough to have your guard up in case he pulls any funny business.

He doesn’t even care to check in at the front desk. Instead, he runs off to the bar when he sees a beautiful woman walking the same way.

You’re third in the check-in line, and you can’t help noticing the crowd hanging out in the lobby. Everyone’s dressed as some kind of anime character. It almost makes you feel underdressed in your plain white tee that’s tucked into your jeans.

A nudge from the side causes you to catch your footing. You clench your jaw before breathing out a sigh of frustration. He’s like a fly that won’t leave you alone.

“Want a sip? I think you could use a drink,” Namjoon says, tipping his glass toward you.

“I don’t drink on business trips.”

“Damn, baby. Lighten up. One drink won’t kill you,” he raises a brow and smirks. “Maybe it’ll even warm you up to me.”

If only your eyes could shoot laser beams every time he opened his smart mouth. Facing him, you took a step toward him, pretending to pick off lint from his coat. “It’s cute you think I’d warm up to you,” you pout.

Namjoon gives a lopsided grin, licking his lips. “Don’t worry, love. I’m sure we’ll become real cozy.”

When it’s your turn at the front desk, the receptionist flashes a warm smile, asking for your information. “Is this man with you as well?”

“No,” you say.

“Yes,” Namjoon chimes in.

You roll your eyes, glaring at the man who is the bane of your existence. “No. Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “He is not with me. He needs his own room.”

The receptionist doesn’t respond. She types and clicks around on the computer, her eyes darting around the screen. “I’m sorry ma’am, but it looks like we only have one room left,” she says, avoiding your gaze.

“What do you mean there’s only one room left?” you articulate, gritting your teeth.

The receptionist clicks around her screen again. “Again, I’m so sorry, ma’am. But we’re overbooked because of the anime convention in town. We can book this room for the two of you or give you a free hotel stay for another time to compensate for the inconvenience.”

Free hotel stay for another time? It wasn’t an option at the moment. You needed this hotel room to prepare for your presentation tomorrow.

Someone cosplaying as Sailor Moon walks past you and Namjoon. His elbows are propped on the counter as he faces toward the lobby. He turns to you. “Guess we’ll just have to share,” he raises a brow and licks his lips.

“You cannot think I’ll sleep in the same bed as him. I’d rather burn in hell instead.”

Namjoon turns to the receptionist. “She’s joking. She doesn’t want to sleep in the same bed because she knows she can’t control herself around me,” he grins, holding his hand out for the key card. “We’ll take what you have, love.”

You grumble, muttering curses under your breath as you grab your things, heading toward the elevator. First, he shows up unannounced, and now you have to share a room with him. Let alone a bed? What’s next? He’ll take over your presentation, you bet.

Namjoon whistles a cheerful tune while strolling down the hallway. How is he like a ray of sunshine right now? But to you, he is like a lingering cloud ready to rain on your parade.

When he reaches the door, he turns to you, still whistling, tapping the keycard against the sensor. The door almost slams in your face. You’re struggling to keep the heavy door open while dragging in your luggage.

“Really?” You huff with irritation in your voice.

Your eyes follow him as he makes himself comfortable on the bed. He’s lying down, his legs are dangling off as his feet touch the floor. And you hope the phone screen illuminating his honey skin drops on his face. You’re vile, you know. But Namjoon’s like an itch you can’t seem to reach.

Setting down your things, you walk over to him, slotting yourself between his legs, arms folded against your chest. “What are you doing in my bed?”

He chuckles, placing the phone beside him. He props himself up on his elbows, eyes raking over you. “Waiting for you to hop on, baby,” he sneers, patting his thigh.

How are you supposed to get any work done if he’s around invading the very air you breathe?

“In your dreams, Joon. You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, baby girl. You don’t even wanna know what you do in my dreams.”

His dreams, huh? You’ve wondered how many times you’ve shown up. “Let me guess, am I strangling you?”

Namjoon sits up, pushing himself off the bed to stand. It forces you to take a step back. There’s a moment of silence before he speaks, “Actually, you’re the one who likes it, remember? Not me, princess.”

You’re inches away from him and you hope he doesn’t see you visibly gulp. It’s like everything is stripped away when Namjoon’s around. As much as you try to hide it, you hope he can’t see through your bullshit.

Clicking your tongue, you try to compose yourself, tilting your head as you gaze into those dragon eyes. “Keep dreaming, Joonie because that’s the closest you’ll ever come to fucking me.”

“Again—” he corrects you. His gaze turns dark as he scans you from head to toe. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Come on, love. Don’t you want another taste?”

You roll your eyes, pushing away his hand. “Another taste of Kim Namjoon?” you tut. “Please—I eat boys like you for breakfast.”

A stupid grin spreads across Namjoon’s face. His scent invades your space again, making you step back. “Well, I’ll be sure to serve you breakfast in bed tomorrow. I hear the sausage is great.”

You huff a breath, glaring at the tall, beefy man. “I swear to god, Kim Namjoon if you don’t stay on your side of the bed—there’s gonna be hell to pay!”

Namjoon puts his hands up in defeat. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep my package safe, but it's cute you think your mouth is big enough for me.” He raises a brow, gently nibbling on his bottom lip.

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself, Joon. Always talking a big game, but you gotta put your money where your mouth is love.” You almost retch as the last word rolls off your tongue.

The night you slept with Namjoon was a hazy one. You blame the wine that was coursing through your veins and the critique you received from your professor—it messed with your head and you wanted nothing more than to get your mind off it. Namjoon was in the right place at the right time—annoying you like always. Naturally, he wouldn’t shut up, so you shut him up. One thing led to another and before you knew it, you had slept with your rival.

Walking away, you grab your bag, breathing a sigh of relief once you’re out of the room. It’s a stupid game the two of you have played since college—he riles you up, and you retaliate, but you would try your best to not let him get to you.

You spent the last few hours sitting in the hotel’s bar, with headphones on as you clicked and clacked away at your laptop, finally getting your thoughts onto this Word document. There’s no music playing. You wanted to drown out the noise of the crowd.

As you’re facing out toward the lobby, you look up, glimpsing the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. You watch as he makes his way out of the hotel lobby, and now is your chance to sneak back up to the room and have some quiet for once.

When Namjoon’s out of view, you gather your things, making your way back up. As the door closes, a breath expels from your lips and you can finally breathe again.

Sitting down at the small table, your stomach growls, a reminder that you had ignored for the past hour because this presentation was more important than nourishment. You’re more than halfway finished, and your reward would be a delicious meal.

It’s nearly 9 o’clock, and your meal is nowhere in sight. The outline is finished, talking points are ready to go, but your laptop is dead, and with your luck, you forgot to pack the charger.

You want nothing more than to disappear and crawl into a hole and never come out of it. You’re ready to jump ship without a lifejacket—it’s practically what you’re doing going into this presentation. If only you had more time to prep instead of being thrown into this so last minute. Maybe you shouldn’t have told your boss you’re always ready for whatever’s thrown your way.

The rumbling in your stomach continues, but you’d rather wallow in self-deprecating thoughts than fill your belly with a delicious meal.

Why can’t things go your way for once?

As you’re sitting on the couch beside the window, a sprinkle of rain falls, and it’s perfect, actually–matching your exact mood. You place your chin against the jade-green velvet-colored couch, breathing a sigh of frustration.

How are you meant to get others to care when you're apathetic about why you got into this profession in the first place? You remember discovering your first author and how they made you kick your feet and giggle all night. The feeling of watching someone grow from a small audience into a commercial success made you love your job, and when you and an author are on the same wavelength and both so passionate about a story? You were unmatched when the stars aligned.

But this trip was a different story. You had been working with this author, but Ms. Davis asked Namjoon to chime in, and once something is in Namjoon’s hands, it’s never yours again. It was like a repeat of your college years.

So when Ms. Davis asked you to fill in for Namjoon, you jumped at the chance because you had missed this story and this author, and you hoped Namjoon didn’t distort the beautiful story and world that she had built. You get why everyone fawns over Namjoon. Admitting it crushes your soul just a tad, but he’s smart, charming, suave, and not that bad to look at. You just wished he’d let you have a win now and again. You’re tired of being second best.

When you hear a beep from the door, you sigh, throwing your head back. You don’t acknowledge your roommate for the night and instead focus on the rain droplets hitting the window. Pulling your knees toward your chest, your arms rest on them along with your head as you stare outside. You’re not in the mood to deal with Namjoon right now.

A delectable aroma fills your nose when Namjoon’s presence occupies your space. He sets something next to your feet while on the couch. You look at the box and then at him.

“What’s this?”

“You need to eat.”

“I already ate,” you lie, and your stomach growled, loud enough you’re sure Namjoon heard it too. You make a face, clenching your stomach, hoping it doesn’t do it again.

“Just eat,” he says, bending down to grab the box for you.

“Is this your way of poisoning me, so you can do the presentation tomorrow?”

Namjoon scoffs. “No, actually. It’s me being a decent human being. I saw you at the bar, and I know how you are when you’re in work mode. You forget to eat.”

There’s a fire rising in your chest, and you want nothing more than to be left alone. “I didn’t think the devil had a heart,” you quip back. It’s easier when he isn’t, makes you feel less of an ass—and so much for not being in the mood to argue.

He tuts. “Why are you always like this? Even when we were in school together. You’ve always hated me.”

Maybe it’s how everything’s been handed to him on a silver platter–like how he doesn’t have to work his ass off just to get a sliver of recognition. Maybe it’s because he could be the good guy, but he chooses otherwise. Maybe it’s because somehow he always shows up wherever you are, ready to take things from you.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Fine, starve. I don’t even know why I tried.”

You groaned. “Can you just go away? You’re so annoying.”

“Me? Annoying? You’ve had a stick up your ass ever since you saw me on the plane, and I haven’t done shit to you. I’m here out of courtesy for our boss. What am I supposed to do? Say no?”

“Yeah! You should’ve.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “God–there’s no winning with you, is there?”

You ignore his comment, shifting in your seat, eyes focused on the rain again.

His jaw clenched as he backed off. “I was trying to be nice–break the ice, but it’s useless when I keep hitting a wall with you. See you later. I need a drink.”

Your eyes squeeze shut when the door slams. Sometimes you wonder if you’re too harsh or if you channeled your hatred toward something else, if it would benefit you more. But this was the circus of you and Namjoon–mortal rivals, nothing less, nothing more.

It’s well past midnight when you illuminate your phone for the third time. You’ve been tossing and turning, panicking about tomorrow’s presentation. Maybe you’d have to forgo using a slideshow and go off your outline. Graphic design isn’t your passion anyway because Canva was your best friend for presentation templates.

You had prepared yourself for having to share a bed with Namjoon, but you can’t help but notice that he hasn’t returned from wherever he went. You wonder if this was it–if it was the final straw for him, with you and your bitchy attitude.

As you’re on your phone, going over your outline, a beep from the door alerts you that Namjoon is back. You quickly stuff your phone underneath your pillow, turning in the opposite direction with your back facing him.

“Yeah, mom. Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” His voice softens when he sees the lights are out.

An indistinct voice is heard from the other end, but you close your eyes, pretending to be fast asleep.

“Yes, I have it on my calendar and already asked for the days off. I’ll be back before your surgery.”

You feel bad listening in on his conversation and even worse when you realize his mother is having surgery.

Namjoon hums. “I love you too, Mom. I’ll see you next week. Mm–bye.”

He sets his phone down and cards his hand through his dark hair, but it softly falls back in place. You can hear him ruffling through his bag before he walks off to what you guess is the bathroom to wash up.

You turn over when there’s a sudden ache in your side. Your eyes open to see the light shining from underneath the door, and he’s pacing around as he brushes his teeth.

When the water shuts off, he opens the door, turning off the light. The darkened curtains eliminate all light sources in the room, save for the bit peeking through from the moonlight shining on him, revealing his broad shoulders and honey-skin chest. Thank god it’s dark, otherwise if Namjoon saw you ogling him, he’d have a field day. But the gawking ends when he slips on a shirt.

You shift back to the side that’s still aching and Namjoon slips under the cover, keeping his distance. You’re facing away from him, and you can’t help but hear the frustration when he huffs a breath.

Of course, the stupid ache doesn’t dissipate, and you’re back on your side, facing Namjoon. You peek an eye open. His phone is dimly lit before he turns it off, setting it on his chest. Both of his hands are laced behind his head as he stares at the ceiling, and you’re fighting the urge to say something.

What you overheard was personal, something you weren’t meant to hear. After all these years of being academic rivals and co-workers, you knew little about his life except that he was a trust fund baby and had a younger sister.

“Namjoon?” You quietly croak out.

He quickly gazes in your direction. “Sorry—did I wake you? I didn’t mean to.”

“No, I couldn’t sleep, and then I heard you come in.”

A muttered apology escapes his lips along with ‘Night,’ as he turns on his side, facing away from you.

His demeanor is different, almost as if he’s let down his guard. You’ve never seen him distraught before.

“Namjoon?”

He hums but doesn’t turn around to face you.

“Is everything okay with your mom?”

Namjoon clears his throat. “Yeah, she’s okay. At least, I hope so.”

You’re nibbling on your bottom lip. “I couldn’t help but overhear she’s having surgery?”

“Oh—yeah, we, um, recently found out she has breast cancer and has to have a mastectomy.”

“Joon,” you utter. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammers, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. “Everything happened so fast, and I feel like I haven’t had time to process my thoughts. I’m trying my best to stay strong, you know?”

You place your hand under your cheek as you’re staring at his backside. The two of you stay silent for a moment.

“I get that,” you say, lying on your back, bringing the duvet to cover you. “Um, my mom also went through breast cancer a few years ago, if it’s any consolation, I suppose breast cancer is one of the better ones to have? If that’s such a thing—I mean, there’s a lot of research that’s gone into it, and there’s so much support out there if she wants it. So, um, yeah, just keep your head up. Your mom will be okay.”

Namjoon mumbles, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t turn to you, and you don’t blame him. You have been a bit of an ass to him, but you’re not made of stone—there’s a heart buried somewhere inside.

Flipping on your side, your backs are facing one another, and you hear a sniffle. Immediately, you turn back, hesitant about being in this position. In the time you’ve known Namjoon, he’s never cried in front of you. There are more sniffles, and you can hear him holding back whatever’s caught in his throat.

Your heart’s racing, your breath is slow and controlled. You shift closer to him, removing the pillow you had placed in the middle to separate the two of you.

“Joon?”

He wipes his nose and clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“Would it be okay if I hugged you?”

Namjoon hums in agreement, and you take it upon yourself to inch closer to him. Somehow he seems so much smaller when you’re this close. You snake your arm underneath him, wrapping it around his waist, pressing your body against his. It takes a moment for him to register what’s happening, and then his hand finds yours, entwining them together.

You’ve been where he has and any kind of surgery is scary, especially when it’s a loved one. Your mind can only wander to the worst-case scenarios.

Your bodies are in sync as you can feel his chest rise and fall. But his breath is ragged and shaky. You suppose he’s fighting off any tears threatening to fall.

“You can tell me to fuck off.”

He chuckles. “No, I like this. It feels nice.”

Your mind finally settled during the night, and you could fall asleep. Namjoon’s snores were your alarm clock this morning. The weight of his arm draped over your waist. It was a familiar feeling—just like the day after you had slept with him. Only this time, all your clothes were on, and there was no accompanying headache.

Peering over your shoulder, he was still fast asleep, so this was your chance to sneak away. You were hoping to go over your presentation a few more times before your meeting today with the publisher. But as soon, as you decide to slip away, a buzzing from Namjoon’s side causes you to close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t trying to get up.

It buzzes a few times before Namjoon stirs awake, fumbling around to find his phone. “Hello?” he says in a groggy, raspy voice.

You shift away from him, snuggling underneath the duvet. The conversation is indistinct, and you can’t hear anything but Namjoon’s responses.

“Wait—” Namjoon sits up, turning away from you, his feet planted on the ground. “You want me to do what?”

He’s frustrated by whatever he was told.

“No, I can’t do that to her.” He quickly peers in your direction, and he sees you fast asleep. The voice on the other line continues along with Namjoon’s frustration. He’s rubbing his temple and sighs. “Please don’t make me do this. She already hates me as is.”

You can’t help but wonder who’s on the other line and who the ‘she’ is.

Namjoon shakes his head, and his voice quiets down. “She’s been working so hard on this presentation. I can’t just take this from her.”

Your heart sinks when you realize he’s talking about you. There’s no one else doing a presentation, and Namjoon was working with this author before they were handed back to you.

“Okay, okay. I’ll let her know,” he said dejectedly. Namjoon doesn’t even say goodbye. He’s crouched over, elbows on his knees as his head hangs low.

The soft chimes of your alarm go off. You wait a few seconds before reaching for your phone to silence it. Sitting up, you glance over at Namjoon who’s looking right at you.

“Morning. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, my alarm woke me up,” you say before flipping the duvet over. You stand, smoothing down your hair. “Big presentation today. I should get ready for the day.”

You’re ready to run to the bathroom, but Namjoon stops you. “Um, about that.”

Slowly, you turn to him. “What about it?”

Namjoon’s hands are entwined, and his thumbs fiddled out of nervousness. “Ms. Davis called and wants me to do the presentation.”

You suck in your lower lip, gently chewing on it. “But I worked on it like a madwoman last night. Why would Ms. Davis ask me to do it and then go back to asking you?”

A buzzing from your phone interrupts you. The screen flashes ‘Ms. Davis.’ You peer at Namjoon, then answer the phone. “Hello? Ms. Davis?”

“Good morning, ____. I hope you slept well.”

You hum in response.

“I know I asked you to go to New York, but now that Namjoon is there. I think it’ll be better if he does the presentation. He just has a way with words, and I think he’ll be able to land this deal, don’t you think?”

Namjoon avoids your gaze by scrolling on his phone. You remember Namjoon’s words from the day before, ‘What Ms. Davis wants, Ms. Davis gets.’

You take a moment before responding. “Why yes, Ms. Davis, I agree. Namjoon would be perfect for this presentation.”

She continues about supporting him in whatever way he needs today, and you’re seething like a teakettle that’s ready to burst. You agree with everything she says.

“Mmhm, yes. I’ll make sure he has everything he needs.”

You bid her a chipper farewell before hanging up. Your phone’s clenched in your hand, and your chest is heaving. Thoughts are running rampant—you’re ready to quit on the spot.

Licking your lips, you look at Namjoon. “Well, good luck with your presentation today. Don’t ruin it for our author and Ms. Davis.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No–you worked hard on it. You should do it.”

You scoff. “Don’t act like you don’t want to take this from me, Joon. It’s what you’re good at. You always get your way—just like when we were in school and now even at work. No matter how hard I work for everything, you’re there to reap the reward.”

His jaw clenches. He stands, walking to you. “You’re so fucking exhausting,” he spits out. “You think I’m some guy who’s out to get you or wants the worst for you–it’s like whatever preconceived notion you’ve fabricated has overlooked the fact that I’m a pretty decent guy if you could get past whatever thing that I’ve done to tick you off.” He sighs. “I’m telling you to do the presentation, but here you are blaming me.”

The warmth from his body is scorching as he nears you–it matches the energy firing inside you. Here he is, allowing you to shoot your shot, but you’re stubborn and temperamental.

Your gaze pierces through him. “Do whatever you want, Joon. I quit.”

Quickly, you gather your things, stuffing them into your carry-on. You know how ridiculous it sounds, but Kim Namjoon tends to bring out your foolishness. You’ve had seven years of him right by your side, which was too many for you. Maybe it was time to find a private island with no form of communication to escape him.

Namjoon doesn’t stop you, he lets you leave. He knows how strong-willed you are and once you’ve decided, there’s no changing it.

You wash up in the hotel lobby’s restroom, rushing off to nowhere because well–you had quit and home was two hours away by flight and it wasn’t leaving until tonight.

Cars and buses screech to a halt along with the sounds of never-ending honking. Chattering from tourists and bicyclists whiz by your side. There’s never a dull moment so you can get your head on straight.

A buzzing from your bag goes unnoticed because you’re too busy figuring out the next steps. You don’t know what you’re doing. Quitting, so suddenly? Was it out of spite? If you couldn’t even handle Namjoon, how would you handle the next prick that came along?

You held your arm out, trying to hail a cab, but no one stopped. Well, it was probably the worst time to grab one, anyway. Checking your phone, you noticed a missed call and a voicemail, and it wasn’t from anyone you were expecting.

It was from Noa Skye, the author you were trying to get published.

“Hey ____. I know I’ve been working with Namjoon for the last several months, but when I heard that you’re doing the meeting with HarperCollins instead, I screamed! I know you’ll be able to pitch my book well because you love this story as much as I do. So, yeah, I just wanted to call and wish you good luck. You’re going to do great. Talk to you soon!”

Your heart sank to your stomach when you heard Noa’s voicemail. It was true–you loved her story, and you wanted the entire world to read it so they could laugh and cry along with you. Her book deserved to be on bookshelves and New York’s best-seller list.

Should you buck up the courage and walk in with your head held high? And for once, maybe Namjoon was right–that you were looking for someone to blame and he was conveniently the scapegoat.

Noa deserved better than this ongoing battle between you and Namjoon; maybe more you than him–but regardless, you needed to set aside your ego for the sake of your author.

Huffing out a deep breath, you pulled your hair back, ready to fight for this presentation.

Namjoon was typing furiously, looking through his previous notes on Noa’s novel. He wished he had spoken to you about what you had outlined to get a better grasp. You and Noa had been working on her novel for a couple of months before Namjoon came into the picture. Surely, he knew how to charm the pants off publishers, but sometimes he felt like you captured the heart of these stories better than he did.

You’re jabbing the number seven several times, encouraging the elevator doors to close. Looking at your phone, there’s half an hour before the presentation. You hoped it was enough time to sort things out with Namjoon and go over your outline.

Turning the corner, you find Namjoon sitting with a laptop. He looks up, almost relieved when he sees you, but of course, he doesn’t make it known.

“Thought you quit,” he says when you’re near.

You flash a thin smile, sitting beside him. “I never waste a moment where I can rescue you, because it looks like you need my help.” A glimpse of a nearly empty page proves your point.

In normal Namjoon fashion, he’s ready to bite back, but he holds his tongue. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You can say ‘thanks’ and I’ll call it even.” He mumbles something indistinct and you cup your hand up to your ear. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you over the sound of your ego.”

His shoulders slump, and he cocks his head. “Thanks, ___. I owe you one.”

Wiggling in your chair, you’re smiling proudly because this is the first genuine show of gratitude from Kim Namjoon.

“Here’s what I have. Can you tell me what you and Noa have been working on?”

Even without visuals, you felt the presentation went well and did Noa justice with her novel. Namjoon was another surprise. He didn’t interrupt, waited until you finished before adding in his two cents.

Although the presentation and trip to New York were short and sweet, it was eye-opening for you because you had been toying with the idea of opening up a literary agency. The sound of being your own boss sounded lovely.

“We did good, huh?” Namjoon says as he stands beside you.

“We?” You quirk an eyebrow.

He tilts his head. “You. You did a good job.”

You stand proud outside of the hotel’s driveway as the two of you wait for an Uber. “I know. I always save the day.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Well, have a good flight back home.”

Whipping your head back to him, your brows stitched in confusion. “Are you not going back to Chicago?”

He shakes his head. “My mom’s surgery got moved up, so I’m flying straight to Seoul. I’ll be back in Chicago in two weeks.”

“Oh,” you mumble. “I hope everything goes well.”

“Thanks,” he flashes a small smile. A car pulls up to him. “Looks like my ride's here. I’ll see you.”

Namjoon grabs his carry-on, ready to leave, but you stop him. “Joon–” He turns back around. “I’m sorry about what happened this morning. You’re right. I haven’t treated you nicely and have blamed you for a lot of things over the years, and it’s no one’s fault, but my own. I hope things go well with your mom, and if you ever need anyone to talk to, you can call me.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Call you, hmm?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Just–” you groan. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t even know why I tried.”

Namjoon lets go of his carry-on and walks back to you. “I’m messing with you.” He chuckles lowly, taking another step closer to you. He lifts your chin with his forefinger, his dragon eyes gazing into yours. “It’s our thing, isn’t it? You hate me, I hate you. We find some kind of common ground, then fall in love. Isn’t that in all the books we read?”

You lick your lips and nod, pointing to yourself. “Me? Fall in love with you? Don’t push your luck, Joon.”

read 'under the mistletoe' (a don't push your luck drabble)

#namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic #rm fic #rm fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenario #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x you #fic: don’t push your luck

297 notes · View notes

roosterforme · 1 year

Text

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You hated nothing more than watching Bradley leave for a deployment. But at least this time you knew that as soon as he returned, you would be sliding wedding bands on each other's fingers.

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, and swearing

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

The night before his flight to South Korea, Bradley couldn't shake you for a single minute. You seemed to want him everywhere with you, even to the extent that you asked him to help you cook Marry Me Rooster for dinner.

"Can you turn the oven on?" you asked him as you started to get the chicken ready. "And mix all of the spices up for me?"

Bradley did as you asked, and then he kissed the back of your neck. "I need to make sure I packed a phone charger," he said, lying so he could get away from you.

"You're coming right back?" you asked, and Bradley melted a little bit inside.

"Yep," he promised before dashing to the bedroom.

He knelt down on the floor and reached under the bed, pulling out a small box and the paper airplane he had already folded up. He knew he would only have a minute to get everything in order. He opened your nightstand and tucked the paper airplane inside with the box under it. Bradley wished he could have given you the gift in person, but this way you would see that he absolutely intended to fulfill his promise to you.

"Roo?" you called from the kitchen, and he could feel his heart skip a beat for you. He didn't want to leave your side for very long right now, either.

"Coming, Baby Girl!"

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

You were an absolute wreck. It had been getting worse since the Halloween party. And now that Bradley was leaving in the morning, you couldn't stop thinking about his injury from his last deployment.

So you were perched on his lap at the dining room table while he ate a huge portion of Marry Me Rooster. "This is so good," he groaned, looking at you like the savior of mankind was sitting on his lap, all because you knew how to follow an old recipe. He held out the fork for you to take a bite of chicken, but you just shook your head.

"I'm not hungry."

He set the fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Are you worried about me missing the wedding?"

You shook your head. "No, Bradley. I'm worried about your safety. We can get married whenever." Your voice sounded small and your throat felt tight.

"I will come back to you over and over again, Baby Girl. Nothing can keep me away."

"I know," you said, and you knew you were going to cry if you didn't get it under control. "I just keep thinking about how you came home last time, and I don't want anything like that to ever happen to you again."

Bradley held you against his chest and let you get your breathing under control. "I will be as careful as I possibly can be. Besides, Jake won't let anything happen to me, because it would upset you."

You started laughing at the truth of that statement. "You're probably right."

You managed to take a few bites of dinner, but when Bradley tried to clean the kitchen you wouldn't let him.

"I will have plenty of time to clean the house while you're away. I need to get everything ready for my parents to stay with us anyway."

"Oh, hell no. They are not staying here this time," Bradley said, picking you up and carrying you to the couch. He dropped you gently onto your back and climbed on top, rubbing his mustache all over your face and neck.

You laughed and tried to make him stop as you asked, "Oh really? Where do you suggest I tell them to go, then?"

He pinned your hands above your head and nipped at your lips. "I'll get them a room at a five star hotel, but they are not staying here. Especially not on our wedding night."

"Oh," you gasped and then giggled. "I see your point. They did kind of cramp our style last time they stayed here."

"Mmm," he hummed next to your ear. "You are not good at being quiet for Daddy."

You licked your lips. "What? I'm always good for Daddy."

"You're a known brat, Baby Girl. And I fucking love you."

You let him gather you up into his arms and hold you. "Fine," you whispered. "You win. They can stay at a hotel."

"I knew you'd see it my way."

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

Bradley stretched out on the couch with his head in your lap while you played with his hair. His arm dangled lazily over the cushion, and he pet Tramp who was curled up on the floor.

"It's getting late, Baby Girl," he whispered, not wanting to move, but knowing you would need sleep for work tomorrow after you dropped him and Jake at the airport. "Let's go to bed so you're not tired."

"No, let's stay up longer," you countered. "I can sleep when you're away. Nobody will be constantly prodding me with their penis and wanting my attention for at least a week, if not two."

Bradley looked up at your smirking face. "Yeah, that better not be happening."

"We can go get in bed, Roo, but I'm not ready for sleep yet," you told him softly, turning off the TV and letting him give you a piggyback ride to your bedroom. You had your arms wrapped around him, and your lips were teasing his neck, and Bradley was starting to wonder exactly how many times he was going to have to leave you for deployments.

He set you down on the side of the bed and turned to stand between your legs. You looked tired and worried in the soft lamp light, but still so perfect to him.

"This is number four on the year. But really my fifth deployment with you."

You nodded, swallowing hard and you slowly moved to the middle of the bed and reached for him. "I hate them," you whispered as he crawled over to you. "But I love you."

Bradley kissed you, pressing you into the bed with his body weight. Your fingers were in his hair again, holding him to you until you moaned. "I'm going to miss you, Roo."

He pushed your shirt up and eased his hand along your bare breasts, watching your face change to a look of longing. "Next time I see you, Baby Girl, we'll be in the final days before the wedding."

"Please," you begged, pulling your shirt over your head. "Please make it back in time."

Bradley didn't say anything else, his lips too busy tasting all of you, until his face was buried in your pussy.

"Please, please," you begged softly between gasps, and Bradley was no longer sure what you were begging him for. So he gave you everything. He made you cum on his tongue until you were pulling his hair and pleading with him louder.

Then he made love to you, his cock buried deep inside until he was filling you up. He cradled your face in his hands and jerked in and out, cumming with your name on his lips.

When he kissed you, you simply whispered, "Please, Bradley. Just come home."

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

Bradley watched you swiping tears out of your eyes as you got dressed in his old UVA tee shirt and some leggings. You were wearing your glasses and watching him dress in jeans and a black tee for his long flight.

"Come here," he said, and you shuffled into his arms, breathing him in with your face buried against his chest. "I love you. I'll be home soon. I'll call you if I can."

You nodded against him. "We need to leave," you whispered, your voice shaking. "So we have time to pick up Jake."

"Let's go, Sweetheart."

You held his hand as he drank a mug of coffee and picked up Tramp for a kiss. You squeezed his hand as he hoisted his duffle bag onto his shoulder.

"Your car or the Bronco?" he asked once you were leading him down the front steps.

You snorted. "Jake won't fit in my backseat with the bags," you said, leading him toward the Bronco. "But I can't believe you'd have willingly gone in my car, Roo."

"I would do anything for you," you said, tossing his bag into the back and closing the hatch. "Including paying for repairs to that shitty little death trap and riding around in it with you."

Bradley buckled you into the passenger seat, and kissed your nose before hopping in the driver's side and pulling out of the driveway.

The ride was quiet. You didn't select a playlist, and he hadn't asked you to. You simply laced your fingers with his and occasionally kissed his hand.

Even Jake joined the two of you with barely a word, but Bradley watched him squeeze your shoulder as he climbed in the back with his duffle. And then the three of you were on the highway, zipping along to a destination he didn't really want to reach.

But by the time he was pulling up to the curb in front of the International Departures sign, he knew you would be crying when he looked at you. He could simply tell by the way your hand shook in his as he shifted into park and killed the engine.

"Baby Girl," he rasped, and you were already crawling across the seat and into his arms.

"I love you," you sobbed quietly as your tears met his face where you pressed yourself against him. "Just come back home. Please." He held you so tight, his eyes closed against his own tears as you kissed him all over his face.

Bradley heard Jake open the door and climb out onto the curb, thankful he was giving the two of you some privacy.

"As soon as I get back, we're getting married, Baby Girl. We'll have our super secret perfect wedding, and then I'll be your husband forever. And you'll be my wife."

You were smiling and crying at the same time, and it was somehow impossibly beautiful. He straightened out your glasses, and you rested your forehead against his.

"It's going to be perfect," you said. "I can't wait to marry you."

Bradley mashed his lips to yours for a few seconds, memorizing the softness of your skin and the way you smelled. Then he scooped you up and climbed out of his door with you in his arms while Jake grabbed both bags.

When Bradley set you down on the sidewalk, he watched you fling your arms around Jake's neck and bury your face in his shoulder. "You need to come back safely. And you need to bring him with you, okay? Promise."

"I promise, Angel," Jake said, holding you against him. "You call the boys or Nat if you need anything."

"I will," you squeaked, and Bradley watched you place a sweet kiss on Jake's cheek, one that had the other man squeezing his eyes shut.

And then Bradley knew, whether he liked it or not, he was absolutely stuck with Jake Seresin in his life forever now. Because for some reason you loved him.

A second later, you were back in Bradley's arms again, your hands grabbing his chest and shoulders while you kissed him a little frantically. He pulled back a bit, taking your face between both hands and saying, "When you get home, check your drawer."

A laugh bubbled out of you. "Okay, Roo. And when you get on your flight, check your phone for some pictures that I'm going to text to you."

"I will, Baby Girl. I love you. More than anything." He kissed you one more time, holding every inch of your body against his before letting you go with his car keys in your hand along with his entire heart.

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

You stood on the sidewalk amidst all of the horns honking and people walking around until you could no longer see Bradley and Jake inside the airport. Then you climbed into the Bronco and pulled slowly into traffic, making your way home to get changed for your half day of work.

"I'm sorry, but it's just me," you told Tramp when he ran around in circles looking for Bradley. "Daddy will be back in seven to ten business days."

You started to think about what would happen if he missed your wedding date. You'd lose out on a bunch of deposit money for the food, pink champagne and confetti cake you already ordered. But you didn't care about that as much as you did about Bradley and Jake both getting home safely.

"Oh my god," you gasped, running out of the kitchen and heading for your nightstand. You yanked the drawer open to find another paper airplane and a small jewelry box. He had written Baby Girl on the paper plane, and it looked so much like his tattoo, you squealed as you opened it up.

Next time I write a note for you, it'll be my wedding vows.

"Bradley!" you screeched into the empty room as you sprawled out on the floor, kicking your feet up into the air. You and he would hopefully be sharing your wedding vows later this month, and you couldn't wait. You carefully folded the paper up so you could add it to his other deployment notes you had stashed away.

Then you opened the jewelry box to reveal another charm for your necklace. It was a flat, gold disc. But when you pulled it out and flipped it over, your lips parted as you stared at it.

It was engraved with your wedding date. Twenty three days from now. Bradley had twenty three days to get home and make the date on this charm a reality. You held it in your hand for a moment, rubbing your thumb along the smooth edge before gently placing it back in the box. You didn't think you should add this charm to the other two until he was home.

You checked the time on your phone and got ready to send him the pictures you had taken the other day while he was in the garage working out. He and Jake were probably boarding their flight now, so you sent the photos you had painstakingly posed for. And then you changed into your uniform for work, trying not to drown in the lonely feeling that seemed to absorb you when Bradley was away.

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

Bradley had his phone in his hand, ready to scan his electronic boarding pass for the airline gate agent. He should have been paying closer attention, but he and Jake were sipping gross airport coffee and chatting about some of the scant mission details they knew when you texted him.

Bradley was pretty sure both the gate agent and Jake got a good look at your tattoo and your hand covering your pussy as the image flashed on his screen. But when he and Jake strolled down the jetway a moment later, Jake just cleared his throat.

"You know, you can change your phone settings so images stay hidden until you actually open the text," he drawled casually. "I think you should look into that. For all our sake."

"That's good to know," Bradley replied, feeling his cheeks growing warm. You had sent a few more photos, but he was too afraid to take his phone back out of his pocket right now.

"The two of you are so disgustingly in love, I can't even be mad about it," Jake said, leading the way toward the seats that had been assigned next to each other. Bradley took the window seat and Jake took the aisle seat in the exit row, and they both got settled in.

"Still can't believe she picked me," Bradley mumbled, finally pulling his phone out.

Jake snorted. "Nobody can."

Bradley checked his surroundings and turned the screen away from Jake before opening up the first image.

Yep, it was your tattoo with your left hand and your engagement ring, fingers covering your pussy. The second one was a selfie you must have taken in the shower with soapy tits and a smug grin. And the third one was another of your tattoo with both wedding bands balancing next to it on your hip.

Next time you're home, we'll be sliding these on each other's fingers.

"So, when's the wedding date?" Jake asked casually, stretching his legs out in front of him, and jarring Bradley from his thoughts of you in bed.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, "not sure yet. Still working on that."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Both of you are terrible liars. Angel keeps fibbing to me about it. It's cute that she thinks she's crafty."

Bradley scrambled quickly. "We might just go to Vegas next month. Keep it simple."

"There's no way Angel is going to agree to getting married in Vegas in that dress she bought. I'm not buying it," Jake insisted, crossing his arms over his chest while they started to taxi for takeoff.

Bradley quickly texted you back a million heart emojis and told you he loved you and the photos you sent him. Then he put his phone into airplane mode.

"Wait, you saw the dress?" Bradley asked, even more annoyed now. "How did you see the dress?"

Jake shrugged. "She was showing Nat and Maria pictures on Halloween, and I sweet talked my way into the conversation."

Bradley was quiet for a beat. "What does it look like?"

"Like something you wouldn't wear to Las Vegas for a quickie wedding. So just tell me what you're doing."

Bradley's heart was pounding. He needed some way to throw Jake off. "We're going to Mexico right before Christmas. Eloping there."

Jake just hummed, and Bradley wasn't sure if he sold it or not. But there was no way he was going to give up the real wedding date. You would be so angry if he did.

"Well," Jake replied as the plane took to the air, headed out over the Pacific Ocean. "Looks like I'll be spending the next two weeks planning your bachelor and bachelorette parties. We can have them right when we get back."

Bradley settled back against the seat and closed his eyes, a little afraid of what he had just done.

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

At work on Thursday afternoon, your boss informed you that there would be someone from Annapolis interviewing for a spot in your lab the following day. And all you could think about was the last time when you ended up working with Josh for several months. So Friday morning, you dressed and got yourself ready for work, but you made sure you were extra cautious when you sat down at the conference table to meet with this candidate.

"Here's her resume and work history," Bickel told you, handing you a folder. You opened it up and skimmed through the credentials for Lieutenant Catherine Coleman. She was close to your age, originally from Philadelphia, and she had a degree from the Naval Academy in electrical engineering.

"Why does she want to come to Top Gun?" you wondered out loud. "She's in a prestigious lab at the academy."

"We're about to find out," Bickel said with a shrug, and he stood and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a very determined looking woman. She was petite with dark brown hair and striking features. The way she carried herself reminded you a bit of Phoenix, and you were instantly in awe of her.

After introductions were made, all of her responses to your questions were quick and thorough. She was impressing you. But you still weren't sold on her. "Lieutenant, why do you want to transfer to North Island? You're in the lab I would want to work in if I were in Annapolis. And your Admirals get massive budgets to work with. Much bigger than ours."

She looked intently at you, studying you for a moment. "The lab is overcrowded, and I like to stand out. I'm also looking to settle somewhere outside of Maryland."

Well, you couldn't argue with that. You also liked to stand out, and leaving Maryland permanently was perhaps one of your greatest achievements.

"And what would you have to offer us that we don't already have?" you asked, and Bickel leaned forward to hear her answer.

"A fresh perspective."

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

As Bradley settled into his bunk on the USS Ronald Reagan after a day of mission prep, he got his phone ready for his allotted twenty minutes of shitty wifi access. Jake was on the bed five feet away about to do the same as it became 1900 hours ship time. They both frantically entered the internet credentials and waited for their phones to load.

"Who are you hoping wrote to you?" Bradley asked, and then he felt kind of like a dick for asking. It just seemed odd to him that Jake was single and not constantly trying to bring girls back to the bunk; that's what Bradley would have been doing before.

Jake just snorted. "Probably your wife," he drawled. "She always writes to me when I'm away. And maybe Nat or my parents."

Bradley opened up a series of emails from you, scrolling through what you'd been doing at home. You'd sent him a photo of Tramp at the beach and another of you dressed up for a night at the Hard Deck. He saved them both to look at later.

We interviewed someone from Annapolis, and they are going to transfer out next month if they accept the position.

He was instantly on high alert. Could be another Josh situation.

Don't worry, I'm not working too hard. Only twenty hours per day.

He sincerely hoped you were joking. There was a chance you were not.

Are you still planning on coming to our wedding? Any idea when you'll be back?

He would be flying this mission tomorrow afternoon. It was just him and Jake. They kept changing the parameters, eliminating team members, making it more specialized. Bradley was a little alarmed that they weren't going to be provided with more firepower and backup support, but what did he know? He was only a Lieutenant Commander in a room full of Admirals.

So he replied to your emails, promising to call you when he could, and sparing you the details of the mission. And then he and Jake both groaned at the same time when the internet cut out.

"Your wife asked me what she should get you as a wedding gift," Jake drawled as he turned his phone off.

Was Bradley supposed to get you something? He hadn't even thought about it. He had quite a credit card bill to pay off at the moment, between the honeymoon and all the lingerie you charged to his credit card. "What did you tell her?"

Jake tucked his hands behind his head and stared at the low ceiling. "I told her all men want the same things in life, so she should make you a nice dinner and give you a blowjob. You're welcome."

"That's like a typical Tuesday for me," Bradley replied with a grin. "And Thursday. And Sunday."

"Must be nice," Jake said, his voice a little tense. "Someone who loves you that much and gives you head for no reason? Damn, Bradshaw."

Bradley just closed his eyes and thought about you. "Living the dream. Wait, are you jealous?"

"Of you and Angel? Nah. Probably just need to get laid."

"Just say the word and I'll go to the lounge for a while," Bradley replied. "I don't mind."

"Maybe tomorrow," Jake drawled without enthusiasm.

"Tomorrow's the mission," Bradley replied.

"Well then maybe a different day."

Bradley just grunted in acknowledgement.

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

And he's off! Next up is his mission! And I hope he gets back in time! Also, peep Cat Coleman....she's going to be important....

PART 16

@mak-32

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine

605 notes · View notes