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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Text

Hello Sunshine

A/N: Hello! I’m here with a 7am shower idea that I couldn’t get out of my head. It’s just a little sweet and soft Frankie. Enjoy! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

*Bold - Frankie ; Italics - Reader

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: none

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Hey! What time did you want to meet up tomorrow for brunch?” you stared at the number you’d typed in and compared it to the one that the man you’d met the evening before had given you. You had been absolutely reluctant to go to the local bar’s speed dating evening before, but your best friend had convinced you to go. She was going to go as well, so you figured if you ended up suffering, she would likely too - solidarity in its finest form. Much to your pleasant surprise however, you ended up having a fun time...the multiple rounds of drinks probably didn’t hurt either.

Marcus had been your last round for the evening, and he had been kind and charming; easy on the eyes and easy to make conversation with. He asked you questions and you were able to ask him ones back. Definitely a sharp turn from what you were expecting; and by the end of the night he’d offered you his number and asked you to for brunch on Sunday. You’d been...elated; it had been some time since anyone had actually managed to capture your eye.

Before talking yourself out of sending the message, you hit send and put your phone onto your nightstand. You weren’t too nervous in general, but there was something about sending that first message that always caused butterflies to erupt into your stomach. It wasn’t but a few minutes before your phone vibrated to signal a new message. Trying not to get too eager and excited, you reached for it and quickly opened the new text.

Who is this?

Your brow furrowed in confusion at the seemingly hasty denial of acknowledgment. It was no matter, you groaned at yourself, you probably should have included your name in the first place. No big deal, you quickly typed out your name and added, “we met at the bar last night? For the speed dating event?”

Your stomach flipped nervously as you wondered what he would say; hoping it was just a misunderstanding and he would realize exactly who you were.

I didn’t go to any bars last night. I don’t know who you are.

Oh. Your throat constricted as you reached for the napkin with the phone and compared it again to the number you had texted. There was no way you’d mistaken any of the numbers. Sighing heavily, you slipped out of bed and edged towards your bathroom and tossed the offending object into the can. Things had seemed like they’d gone so well...you’d genuinely liked Marcus and thought the attraction and chemistry was there on both sides. Apparently you’d been made a fool once again. Heat flooded your face in embarrassment as you contemplated whether or not to text again. To hell with it, you decided, you might as well apologize if nothing else.

So sorry. The guy I met must have given me the wrong number. I hope I didn’t ruin your night. Sorry for wasting your time.

After that bit of failure, you decided you might as well get back into bed and watch a show until you fell asleep. You felt beyond embarrassed and just wanted to forget about the whole thing. Needless to say, it surprised you when your phone went off again.

No worries. Sorry if I was rude too. It’s happened to me before with a couple of girls. It sucks.

At this point, you found yourself smiling at the sentiment, and decided that one more little text wouldn’t hurt anything.

Seriously! Why can’t someone just tell you if they’re not interested? It's so much easier. Either way - thanks for understanding and have a good evening.

You too. Hope things look up soon for you.

His response had been instant almost as if he had been watching you type it all. Whoever this stranger was - and you weren’t even sure if it was a man or woman - they had turned out to be kinder than Marcus. But it didn’t do well to dwell on it; Marcus would get what he deserved and this stranger would get some good things.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Frankie put his phone on the charging pad he kept next to his bed, turning it on silent before crawling under the covers. Catching a glance of himself in the mirror, he was surprised to see that he had a smile on his face. Not that was perpetually frowning or mad, but usually he wasn’t just smiling for no reason.

Although he had a feeling he knew the exact reason as to why he was actually happy for once because of...you. The random stranger that texted him and sent a happy shiver up his spine. He wasn’t happy because of your little predicament, knowing the exact feeling of having been duped and given the wrong number several times. But the short conversation had been pleasant enough and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d hear from you again.

Doubtful, he reminded himself, it was just a one off type deal and that was that. And yet...that didn’t stop him from quickly grabbing his phone again and saving your name and number as a contact. You know...just in case.

Francisco Morales had sweet dreams throughout that night. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Frankie practically bounced into work the next morning, a smile on his face and spring in his step. So he seemed so out of normal form that his best friend and coworker, pointed it out to him and everyone. Frankie played it off like it was no big deal; in reality it wasn’t. You were just another stranger out in the world that flung into his orbit for a moment before leaving again.

But that whole week felt different and somehow the world was a little brighter - filled with sunshine. Even if it wasn’t everlasting, he didn’t mind the feeling it gave him for the moment; the positive energy was nice for a change.

Little did he know that across the city, you were existing in your own little world, going about your day to day in a similar manner. What a small world it was indeed. You had been incredibly tempted to look up his phone and see if you could find anything out about your mysterious stranger, a name, some sort of profile - anything - but refrained. What if it was someone you ended up attracted? A beautiful woman or a good looking man that caused you to start all sorts of fantasies? No - you didn’t need all of that. You’d let it go or let whatever happened happen.

Which likely was nothing. Right? Right.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Imagine your surprise when you found yourself at home with leftover pizza and a bottle of wine, resigning yourself to a quiet Saturday night when your phone vibrated. Figuring it was probably just one of your friends, or some sort of useless notification, you picked up your phone and found your jaw dropping. This wasn’t seriously happening, was it?

Hey stranger. Hope this Saturday is better than the last one.

Maybe they had the wrong number...or something. But no - they acknowledged the fact that last weekend had been shit and called you stranger. This had to be intentional. Setting your phone down for a moment, you grabbed your glass of wine and sipped on it, trying not to let the excitement of a single text get you too excited. They had done what you’d dreamed about all week...why not indulge in it? If nothing else, it might be nice to have someone to text with on occasion.

Hi stranger. This Saturday involves me, the couch, pizza, and wine. I guess I really can’t complain. Hope yours is a good one too!

As soon as you hit send, you wanted to ban your head against the wall; was it too much? Not enough? Did it even warrant a response? Now you were just overthrowing everything. Shit, fuck, damn.

But you weren't able to wallow in misery for too long before your phone went off again. Huh.

Sounds pretty good. Can't complain either, just at home with a beer and a movie. Missing the pizza though. Maybe I'll order some.

Definitely recommended! I don't know if this is odd, but you know my name and I don't know yours...do you have a name, stranger?

Not weird at all! Maybe I should have started with that. Francisco - Frankie.

Well Francisco-Frankie, it's nice to meet you. What movie are you watching?

Nice to meet you, no- longer-complete-stranger. Die Hard. A classic.

Oof. I'm afraid it ends here. Hot take - Die Hard is...notthatgood.

It's been a good but short time…how can you not like Die Hard!? What could you be watching that's so much better?

The Office. A modern classic and clearly superior to anything you're picking if you think Die Hard is good.

Fun fact - I've never seen a single episode of the Office. And never plan on it. Tell me, mystery girl, what should I get on my pizza?

I now make it my plan to convince you to watch The Office. Pepperoni, jalapeños, and tomatoes. Regular crust, none of that thin crust bs.

Challenge accepted. An odd combination but I'll give it a try. Results tbd.

Already listening - I'm a fan of it. I'll let you get back to your movie and order your pizza. Have a good night Francisco-Frankie.

You too, mystery girl.

There was an undeniably giant grin on your face as you set your phone back down. Had this actually happened? Surely this was some sort of dream; a random stranger actually striking up a conversation? And seemingly enjoying it? Out of this world.

As you downed your glass and got ready to refill it your phone vibrated once again. This time you didn't even bother to let a moment pass before picking it back up and opening the notification.

Can I text you again sometime?

Yeah...I'd like that.

You just about melted into the couch, happier than you had been in a long time. And all from texts from a man you still hadn't met. Who knew if you would ever meet him? Either way, this Francisco aka Frankie had proven to be a welcome disturbance in your life.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next couple of weeks passed in the same blissful fashion. You'd go about your day with work and other responsibilities and obligations but you had your pocket companion with you. That's what you nicknamed Frankie anyways.

What has started as some texting here and there soon turned into conversations throughout the days, slowly becoming more personal and introspective with each passing day. And despite still knowing what he looked like or anything...you thrived in it. You'd wondered if he'd looked you up - he hadn't for the same reasons as you - and that's why you got along so well.

The two of you had a lot in common but still managed to have your differences. One thing that never failed to make you smile was what had turned into his version of a good morning text.

Hello Sunshine.

Hi Fly Boy.

Stay dry today, its supposed to be a pretty bad downpour. Talk later?

Of course. Be safe too.

The small sentiment was enough to send you reeling; it was funny how easily conversation flowed between the two of you. Like in some ways you'd always known each other, but still were finding out things constantly. You weren't sure where it would lead to...if anything but for now you appreciated your new found friend.

»»————-　♡　————-««

I have a work party this weekend and it's formal. Do I go for an lbd or something colorful?

Depends - do you want people to approach or admire from the distance?

From the distance, so I can leave fairly quickly but people still know I was there.

Definitely LBD then.

My hero! Perfect idea!

»»————-　♡　————-««

How do I get out of a camping trip this weekend?

Why would you try and get out of it? You said you loved camping.

I do but...just not feeling it this weekend.

Tell them you're feeling or that your new girlfriend wants to spend the weekend together.

New girlfriend? I wasn't aware I had one…

Its called a white lie Frankie. Use me as an excuse if you have to.

You're the best! A real lifesaver, sunshine.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Okay, here's a tough one. Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

All three. But if only one - coffee.

How do you take it?

Black with a little bit of sugar.

That's kind of the vibe I got! But you're wrong - the best answer is coffee in the am, afternoon tea, and then sometimes a hot chocolate for dessert.

Let me guess - salted caramel hot chocolate?

How did you know?! Alright, Fly Boy, you know me too well already.

Just a hunch, sunshine. Okay - favorite color?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Do you think if I pretend to be dead I can leave work early?

Dramatic! I love it. How about a migraine? Last minute emergency?

Probably better. Migraine it is.

Just a thought. Beers with the guys tonight?

Yup. Girls night?

Yes! Talk tomorrow?

Of course.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Soooo I might have gotten myself into a predicament…

What happened?

Umm, I might have lied and told my friends that I started seeing someone…

Oh no.

Yeah...all because I couldn't admit that that guy had given me the wrong number. How do I explain?!

Maybe just don't say anything and then later say it died down or something? No need to drag it further.

You're right and I am an idiot.

Nah, it happens to the best of us.

Hmm sure. Anyways, onto important things. Dogs or cats?

»»————-　♡　————-««

If you could only have one type of food for the rest of your life, what would it be and why?

Hmm, that’s a hard one. I’m torn between Mexican (the good stuff of course) and Italian and sushi. You?

Pizza!

That’s not a type of food, Francisco!

It totally is. There’s different varieties, it can count!

That’s a cheap way to answer the question, but I’ll accept it because you’re cute.

You think I’m cute? And just how do you know? Do I have a stalker?

Nah, too much effort. Besides, I’m usually busy talking to you. It would be kind of obvious if I was, wouldn’t it? I just have a feeling.

Very funny, sunshine. I’m positive it’s the other way around.

You’re the stalker? What am I wearing right now?

You know what I meant!

Of course I did. I’m the smart one in this duo, don’t forget.

You’re too much. Want to watch a movie tonight? We start at the same time?

Yes! Anything but Die Hard or other shitty movies along those lines.

You’re killing me here. One day I will convince you to watch it with me.

I look forward to that - but not tonight. Name your top 3 ideas.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Over the weeks, Frankie became an everyday part of your life. The two of you texted back and forth throughout the day as time allowed. It was nice - comforting to have him there despite the fact that he could have been anyone in the world. Well, you knew he was local to you from his area code but otherwise...a mystery.

You wondered if you’d ever encountered him out in the real world before. It was a definite possibility, but you would never know. Not unless you somehow actually ended up meeting him in person. The idea of proposing such a notion hadn’t seemed far off, especially since your days were filled with each other and there were undeniably flirty texts and insinuations. The few times you’d actually gotten the nerve up to just ask him, something always seemed to come and keep you from doing it. Namely - nerves.

What if you were reading all wrong into this? What if he really wanted nothing more than a friendship? What if texting was the extent of it all?

Naturally, you’d know your answer if you’d just fucking ask him. But that seemed like a momentous and herculean task and you weren’t sure if you’d ever be up for it. Perhaps things would just...happen one day. Despite getting to know him, he was still just this enigmatic aura. For all you knew you might as well have been fighting a robot.

When then...one random night, a Wednesday evening when you’d just walked in the door with fresh produce from the downtown farmer’s market, your phone name. Shifting the large bags in your arms, you managed to fish your phone out of your pocket and answer it without looking at who it was.

“Hello?” you kicked the door shut behind you and shuffled into the kitchen, unceremoniously dumping the bags onto the counters. At first you didn’t hear anything on the other end of the line besides some shuffling, but then eventually you heard a distant voice say something indiscernible. In confusion, you pulled the phone out from between your ear and shoulder and glanced at the contact. The name was enough to have your breath catch in your throat as you realized that your mysterious Frankie on the other end. He’d never called before...perhaps it had been a mistake? Even if it was, you were going to take full advantage of it, “Frankie? Hello? Come on Fly Boy, it’s me. If you can hear me, let me know.”

It was a few more seconds of shuffling and almost static like noise before you were positive you heard a quiet fuck. But then, in a moment that made your heart almost stop, you heard him, loud and clear, “h-hi….sunshine?”

“Hi Frankie,” you repeated as you felt your heart melt and legs turn to jelly, “I’m going to guess this wasn’t an intended call?”

“Umm, shit no,” he admitted with what you could only describe as a nervous laugh, “accidental pocket dial.”

“It’s 2021 and you’re pocket dialing people?” you snorted with laughter as you grabbed your earbuds to sync up the bluetooth so you could talk to him while putting away all of the fresh fruits and veggies you had acquired, “that’s such an old person thing, Frankie! What are you 50?”

“It’s not that weird,” he insisted with an indignant scoff as you giggled, “it can happen easily if you don’t lock your phone when you put it away and yeah...here we are. And for the record I am nowhere near 50! I am only 36.”

“Oof,” you opened the fridge and popped the veggies into the drawer, “I’m afraid that things end here, Grandpa.”

“Very funny! How old are you then, huh? Oh my God - please don’t tell me I’ve been talking to and flirting with a teenager,” for a moment he sounded genuinely nervous as you almost doubled over in laughter at his panic. The fact that he had admitted to flirting was lost on you in your amusement he was so worried that he didn’t even notice the gaff, “sunshine!”

“I’m almost 30,” you reassured him and he instantly sighed in relief on the other end, “don’t worry. Besides, I told you I met the man I thought I was texting at a bar - at least I would have been 21.”

“That still would have been weird,” he admitted as you made a small sound of agreement, “this is better.”

“Ha! Thanks for the sentiment,” you rinsed and crunched on a carrot before hopping onto the counter to get comfortable. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should say your next words or not...but you decided to just do it, “this is...nice. I like hearing your voice. Makes you more real.”

“I like it too,” he agreed softly, a tinge of pink rising up in his cheeks, despite the fact that you couldn’t see it, “you sound like I thought.”

“Oh? Like an annoying twelve-year-old boy?”

“Okay, okay, dramatic much?” he snorted, “just accept the compliment!”

“Fine,” you huffed, being very overdramatic indeed, “what are you up to tonight, Frankie? Want to cook together?”

“I’m yours - free, I mean free,” he corrected himself as you relished in his little mess up, “I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook. I’m a better baker.”

“Ooh, excellent,” you slid off the counter in excitement, “how about this - we’ll make something simple for dinner - I’ll walk you through it step by step, and then you’re in charge of dessert. Deal?”

“Deal,” Frankie felt a rush of excitement surge through him as he stepped into his kitchen and reached for his apron - the same one that Santi always made fun of him for, “what’s on the menu?”

»»————-　♡　————-««

And just like that texts turned into texts and phone calls. There was something so thrilling, like a huge surge of electricity shot down your spine and throughout your body every time you saw his name up pop or heard the sound of his voice. Frankie was...slowly turning into your constant companion and if you were being honest with yourself he was everything you had had ever wanted.

And oh - how scary it was to be falling for a man you still hadn't met in person. Slowly, surely it would happen. Gods, you wanted it to happen so desperately. But you were painfully shy when it came to the idea of asking him out and little did you know, he was feeling exactly the same way. Frankie wanted nothing more than to finally ask you on a proper date, to spend all those times laughing with you in person. But he just...continually talked himself out of it.

He was just so shy, so nervous and he thought it would be impossible that someone like you would actually go for a guy like him. He was just...fly boy and you were his Sunshine. Frankie had given you the name early on, deciding that it was appropriate because you brought a little bit of sunshine into his life every day. It had almost brought you to tears - not that you'd admit that to anyone - not yet anyway. His nickname was simple - he was a former military pilot and now a part time ‘whenever he got the chance pilot’ - Fly Boy. It was perfect and he adored it as much as you.

And yet neither of you, pining silly fools had been able to make that final move. One day, you both reminded yourself constantly, one day.

And one day turned out to be sooner than either of you expected...

"Mmhmm," you murmured into the phone as you scoured the bookshelves of your local little bookstore. You had a rare afternoon off and to treat yourself to a nice coffee and searching for a new read. You'd fallen out of reading regularly and had made it a point to get back into it, aiming for a book month. Naturally, your friend had called you at that exact time, "of course pizza is always a good choice."

Frankie hummed under his breath as he walked through the aisles looking for the book you had recommended to him. He hadn’t thought much about the woman he saw a few rows over with a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. He did note, however, that the tone of her voice was sweet - not that he was trying to listen in on her conversation.

“Yes it is!” you laughed into the phone, trying to keep it down when you noticed the man in your peripheral vision and aimed to keep from disturbing him, “pizza is good for whenever you don't know what to make. And you know the best - pepperoni, jalapenos, and tomatoes. No contest.”

Despite not trying to listen in to your conversation, as soon as he heard you describe pizza, his perked up and immediately his heart started pounding. A nervous rush of energy flowed through him as he tried to get a better look at you without making it obvious. Holy shit - was this actually it? Was he about to meet his Sunshine?

“I even told Frankie,” you insisted with a small smile as you took a sip of your coffee, “he liked it too. Yes...of course I’m still talking to him...I-I really like him. I hope that one day I can meet him. I keep wanting to ask and then I get so nervous and talk myself out of it. He’s just...lovely.”

This definitely couldn’t be a coincidence, right? The particular type of pizza, Frankie, wanting to meet - this had to be you. And the more he listened, despite his initial efforts, he couldn’t help but zone in on you. And now, hearing your voice unfiltered and unaltered through the phone, he knew it was you. He just stopped in his tracks as he watched you, a silly little smile on his face as he realized that somehow the universe had decided to throw him a bone.

“Mhmm,” you murmured into the phone, “of course. I’ll talk to you later!”

Ending the call, you shoved your phone into your pocket and reached for one of the books that had piqued your interest. Sliding it out and reading over the back, you quickly got lost in your thoughts until you heard a throat clear behind you. Assuming you were in someone’s way, you shuffled to the side without glancing at who it was. But then you heard it - quiet and shy but clear, “Sunshine?”

At the sound of the nickname you’d been given by only one person throughout your entire life, your heart fluttered wildly in your chest as your body froze. Surely..surely this couldn’t be happening…

Turning around, slowly, painfully slowly, you found yourself staring at a face both brand new and immediately familiar. You’d never seen him before, but instantly it was like you knew him, all of him. In some ways you supposed, you did.

“F-Frankie?” almost getting choked up, your voice was barely above a whisper as the handsome man in front of you slowly nodded. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as his whole features lit up with excitement. His brown eyes were soft and crinkled in the corners as his grew grin and a one singular dimple appeared. You weren’t really sure what you had pictured when you’d thought about your mysterious friend, but somehow this was right on the mark. You blinked a few times, trying to hold back your tears of sheer excitement, “you’re real after all!”

And then he laughed. A beautiful, glorious sound that caused a surge of warmth to rush through your entire body. He really was just as lovely as you’d dreamed.

“Did you really think you were talking to a robot this whole time?” he asked as you flushed with warmth but stuck your tongue at him, “I can’t believe it’s really you. After all these months...finally. I’ve been wanting to ask you for so long but I didn’t think…”

“Me too,” you agreed, “me too. Small world, huh?”

“I was just looking for the book you recommended last night,” he admitted as you practically glowed with excitement. Holding up a finger, you turned around and quickly found the book in question and displayed it for him, “I didn’t think I’d find the book and the woman I’ve been talking to for months.”

“How did you know it was me?” you asked as you walked over to him and he offered up a sheepish grin.

“The pizza.”

“The pizza!” you snorted with laughter, “I should have known. Too obvious.”

“I like to think that everything happens for a reason,” he tried to take the book from your hands but you just shook your head, “what?”

“This is going to be from me to you,” you insisted as a tinge of pink welled up in his cheeks, “a souvenir from the day we met!”

“I’ll treasure it forever,” he promised and you could tell he meant it, “what are you doing tonight? Now?”

“I dunno,” you feigned innocence, “I was planning on going home to cook and talk to this guy I’ve been falling for for months, but that seems a little weird now.”

“Will you let me take you to dinner - a date? A real date?” he asked as you beamed at him and nodded. How could you ever say no.

“Only if you take me to that Italian place you told me about!”

“Whatever you want, Sunshine,” he promised as he reached for your hand and gently laced your fingers together. It felt so easy, so effortless, and you didn’t even have to think about - natural.

“You,” you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing his cheek, “just you, Frankie.”

“Sweet Sunshine.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #triple frontier #hello sunshine #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales

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spenciebabie · 4 years ago

Note

could you do a blurb or hc where spence is going down on you and your phone rings and he makes you answer it??

if you’re comfortable with that of course :)) xx

I got one exactly like this I’m gonna knock out too:

“can u do a lil blurb on spencer being a little shit and eating you out while you’re on the phone😄”

— —

He loves going down on you. He loves the way you taste, the way you move and squirm beneath him, loves the little pathetic noises you make when his fingers are inside you at the same time. Loves the feeling of your hands pulling at his hair when he keeps going after you’ve already cum. He loves every single part of it.

So he’d never pass up an opportunity like this, you sitting on the sofa in front of him in a dress with no panties underneath. It was supposed to be you teasing him, but it was out of your hands the second he knelt down on the ground in front of you.

Pushing your dress up further and further slow and teasing until he revealed your cunt, soaking wet already, waiting for him. The sight was just too pretty, he wanted to dive in right away. But he knew better than that, taking his time to carefully litter your thighs with soft kisses. Working his way up to harsher ones, nipping and biting at the skin in an effort to leave a mark as you already squirmed beneath him.

“Fuck Spencer, please” you had to whine out for him to finally touch you. Taking pity on the desperate tone that laced your voice.

As soon as his lips connected with your core and your head fell back against the couch, your phone rang.

You froze completely, not wanting to answer it obviously, and waiting for Spencer to stop. But he didn’t, he just replaced his mouth with his fingers for a second and looked up at you to speak, his lips glistening already.

“Answer it for me baby. I promise I’ll be good”

Looking at the caller ID it was Emily, if it had been really important both your phones would be ringing so hopefully it was nothing. But you still didn’t want to answer it.

“Spence, she’ll hear” you moan out as his fingers curl up inside you.

“I’ll be quiet if you will?” He smirks up, answering the call and handing it up to you to take. You wanted to kill him, and you might’ve if his tongue didn’t feel quite so good.

“Emily, hey” you manage to get out in the most normal tone you can put together, and she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Hey, I just wanted to find out a time that suited you for a meeting some time next week? Nothing too serious, I’ll only need like an hour?” Emily speaks.

But once Spencer can hear her voice on the other end of the phone he starts to pick up the pace. Forcing his fingers in and out of you so harsh that it feels like Emily must be able to hear the downright filthy sounds they’re making. His lips wrap around your clit and begin to suck at the same time, and your hips arch up off the couch only to be pinned back down by Spencer. His grip so rough it must be leaving some kind of bruise.

You have to take a second to remember to breathe before you can string together a sentence.

“Next— uh— next week?”

“Yeah, any day in particular suit? I know we might be called away but it’s good to have some kind of plan in place?”

One of your hands comes down to rest in Spencer’s hair. Tugging against it roughly in a bid to get him to stop, but it only seems to encourage him as he moans out against you. The vibrations of his lips and tongue only making things infinitely worse for you until you have to let out a noise.

“Fuck!” You gasp out before you realize what you’ve done.

“Are you alright?” Emily sounds concerned down the line and you have to think quickly.

“Yeah, no! I just— my toe, I stubbed my toe!” You rush out, and it’s not the most convincing lie ever but she doesn’t seem to pry, “Um Tuesday? After lunch?” You throw any time at all out there just to get her off the line.

Spencer can tell the call is coming to an end so he reaches up with his one free hand to grab at your tits over the fabric of your dress, roughly taking one, squeezing it in his hand and all of the sensations together just feel too good. And you’re so close.

“Great yeah that works for me. Is Spencer around actually? I was gonna give him a call next but if he’s there with you?” Emily asks and you don’t have another ounce of strength in you to fight against it anymore.

“No! I’m alone here” it comes out as a little whine and Emily’s probably concerned for your mental health now too.

“Oh alright, I’ll call him later so. Bye then!” Emily hangs up then and you’re cumming around Spencer, on Spencer. Finally moaning out as loud as you needed to as his mouth and fingers continued to make you feel as good as it was possible to feel.

When he comes up for air, there’s a grin plastered on his face as he moves up the couch to join you. Placing a kiss on your lips so that you could taste yourself on him before pulling back.

“You’re a bastard” you breathe out, your chest still heaving from the exertion.

“I’m your bastard” he chuckes and places another kiss on your lips, trailing it down to your neck until he was pawing at the neckline of your dress.

“Don’t get too comfy, Emily’s gonna call you any minute and I’m out for revenge”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid concept #spencer reid blurb #blurb #blurbs #imagine #concept

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talesofstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Reconcile II

Ok so I know that I wrote the first part with reader insert, but after many, many attempts to keep it that way, it just didn’t work with this one. So I’d like for you to meet Emma. This is my first time writing with OC and wow game changer. I love her and I hope you do too!

Also, I honestly can’t thank my beta queens enough @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h 🥺💛 thanks for allll the comments and suggestions and nice words!!! ily both xx

Read part I here

Harry

“So… are we okay now?”

We’re sitting here on the sofa, finally having that very much needed father-daughter date. Granted, a movie night in was not what I had in mind. I wasn’t too thrilled when she said she wanted to just go back home after we dropped George at his classmate’s house for a birthday sleepover. I thought she would hole up in her room instead and ignore me. But she didn’t. I got us pizza for tea, and we’ve got Shrek 2 on the telly. Her animosity towards me disappeared just like that after she asked for a puppy the other day. Of course, I’m glad to have my happy-go-lucky daughter back, but deep down I know that we need to have a proper chat. The change in her behaviour is so abrupt that I know there’s a chance that my daughter is still bitter with me deep down. And that won’t do. I can take a lot of things, but my daughter’s resentment is not one of them.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she nods as she takes a bite of her pizza. “You’re still getting me a puppy right?”

“I still need to talk to your mum about it, poppet,” I tell her. “Puppies need a lot of attention. It’s going to be hard work and that puppy is going to be a permanent member of our family. We’ve really got to think about it before we decide.”

I expect a little excitement knowing that her mum and I are really considering getting a puppy. But what I get is quite the opposite. My little girl’s gaze drops, her face slackening. Her voice cracks a little when she mumbles, “except… we’re not a family.”

I wince, realising how serious the effect our split has on my daughter. Despite Emma and I putting on a friendly, united front for our children, Minnie is still sad that her parents are not together.

“Of course we’re still a family,” I assure her, pulling her to me for a comforting side hug. “I’m still your dad, mummy is still your mum, and you and George are still the lights of our lives.”

“But you and mummy aren’t together anymore,” she points out bitterly. “And you live so far away from us now. I miss having you at home.”

“I know, my love,” I murmur gently, and turn sideways so she can see my face. “It’s killing me too. But you never know what the future holds, right?”

“I guess,” she says glumly.

I wish I can tell her that I’m trying to win her mum back so we can be together again, but I know I can’t do that. This is far too early. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case I’m not successful in convincing my wife to give me another shot. That’ll only break her heart all over again.

Thinking back, I realised that this is the first time we have a proper chat about our split. I fled to LA the next morning after my wife asked me to leave our marital home back in London, leaving her to sit down with our children to tell them that I was not going to live there anymore. I was shocked and angry because I had no idea what I’d done. I thought we were fine. There were no fights leading up to that. I still remember exactly what I told her. ‘You’re the one who wanted to end it, you tell them.’ And then I left.

Just like that. Without a fight.

I swear to God, it’s something that I would never be able to forgive myself.

“How’s your mum?”

“She’s sad,” Minnie sighs. “She cries a lot. She thinks we can’t hear her in the shower, but we can.”

Knowing I caused that physically hurts. I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone and I think about all those private tears I shed through it. The ones you hope are hidden and silent.

“Can I ask you something, daddy?”

“Anything, poppet.”

“Do you still get sad too?”

I’m not sure how much to divulge here. Does my daughter need to hear that I stopped eating? That I once cried in the loo at Cafe Habana, and once had to be fished out of a bath by Jeff after I turned into a human prune? I was sad. I still wear that hat.

“I do. It’s the end of something, that’s always sad.”

“I think mum is dating someone,” she says and my eyes widen. “She told us Luke is her friend, but I think he’s her boyfriend. They’re on a date now, aren’t they?”

I can try and deny it, but I know my daughter is smart and won’t buy anything I tell her.

“What do you know about boyfriends?” I tease, my attempt to lighten up the mood.

“I’ve just turned nine, I’m not stupid,” Minnie rolls her eyes. “‘Sides I’m thinking about getting one of those boyfriend thingies.”

I sit there slack-jawed, and my daughter roars with laughter.

“Minnie Alexandra, you’re going to drive me to an early grave, you know that?”

“Hey, what are you middle naming me for? I was joking!” She says, still laughing as she picks a piece of pepperoni off her pizza.

“How do you feel about your mum dating again?” I ask her.

She pauses. “I don’t know yet. As long as he’s nice and doesn’t put me under the stairs…”

“I’m sure he won’t. In the attic maybe,” I joke.

She laughs again. I’m thinking about keeping that bloke in the attic so my wife won’t date him anymore. Or even better, six feet under my patio. That’ll do.

“It’s gonna be okay, right, dad?”

Honestly, I’m not sure. But I don’t have the heart to tell her that.

“Yeah, Min. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

I see the headlight shining into the front windows as I walk down the stairs from tucking my daughter into her bed. That must be Emma and her date. I pull back the curtain a little to peek outside, and I’m right as I see that bollockface’s car in front of the house.

You know that saying; curiosity killed the cat? Well, in my case, curiosity fucked me with a chainsaw.

I’m a bloody idiot. I should have just closed the curtain back as soon as I recognised the car. I mean… it’s the end of a date. What did I expect to see? A high five? I knew I was so sure when they left that he would not be getting anything more than a friendly kiss, but that date must have gone really well, because right now, my eyes may as well fall out of their sockets as I see that bastard’s tongue down my wife’s throat.

I’m frozen. I’m gripping the curtain so tight that my knuckles are turning white. I stand there—stunned. Watching. I’m not even sure for how long. It does feel like forever. Like an eternity.

In hell.

And then Emma pulls back, and everything seems like a blur. I have to remind myself that my daughter is sleeping upstairs so I won’t go apeshit and knock that wanker square on his arse.

I’m still glued to the floor by the door. I’m too shocked to move. I hear the sound of keys rattling before the door swings open, and she looks surprised when she sees me.

And all hell breaks loose.

“What the fuck, Emma?!” She jolts at hearing me shout. I rarely did it. In fact, I’m not even sure if I’d ever yell at my wife before throughout our marriage. “You told me last night you’d never even kissed him. You told me you weren’t ready.”

“I- I don’t know. He caught me off guard. That was-”

“I told you I wanted to make this work,” I remind her, trying to lower my voice so I won’t wake my daughter up. She doesn’t need to see this. “Us. Our marriage. I told you I wanted to fight for you. But I can’t do that with someone shoving their tongue down my wife’s throat, can I?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see her tear up and I immediately feel regret. That was harsh. But before I can apologise, I can see her lip curls up and I know she’s about to get nasty. It’s a rarity with her when we’ve fought in the past, but I feel it coming.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She sneers. “You think that if you put a toy down, it’ll still be sitting there when you want to play with it again.”

“That’s-”

“You have no right to be upset at me. We’ve split up for nearly a year now. What I do and what I don’t do on my dates is none of your business.”

“I want us to give our marriage another shot,” I say in exasperation. “I want to try to win you back, but fuck’s sake you’re not even giving me the time of day.”

“Oh, look how the tables turned,” she taunts. “Sucks, innit? Being the one struggling to find the time when it seems like the other doesn’t give a crap?”

“Cheap shot, Ems,” I retort.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, H?”

Emma averts her eyes, her lower lip quivering. I can’t tell if she regrets her harsh words or not, but she doesn’t look back my way, and she seems to have said her piece.

I knew sooner or later this was bound to happen. We never had our big fight, not even that night when she decided that enough was enough.

“I cannot possibly go through that again. It physically hurts,” she says softly. “I know I was the one who ended it, but when you just left like that the next morning without so much of a fight as if ten years means nothing to you… that really did hurt. You left me alone to talk to the kids about what happened. And sure, you did call every day. But it took you nearly nine months to finally come and see your children?”

“I needed some time. Some space,” I tell her. “Do you think it’s easy for me being there? Away from my wife and kids?”

“You chose to be there.”

“You know I couldn’t stay in London,” I murmur. “It’s too hard. At least in LA sometimes I can just pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay. That my wife and kids will be there waiting for me when I get home. I can’t do that in London.”

“That’s a shit excuse and you know it,” she mutters.

“I still love you, Em,” I say with a sigh. I know trying to defend myself further for what I did will get me nowhere. “We can fix this. We can be a family again.”

“Harry, it’s too late.”

“Is it him?” I can’t help but go there, because that’s a possibility. “Do you love him already?”

“Luke is a fresh start for me, H. I may not love him now but at least it doesn’t hurt looking at him. It took me months to be able to get back up again, to get to where I am right now. To finally find a little bit of peace.”

Emma’s head hangs low, and she rubs at her temple with her fingers. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms. But by how stiff her spine is, I can tell she wouldn’t come willingly.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” I whisper, resigned. Tears well up in our eyes. There’s nothing I can say that will change her mind because we’re not seeing eye to eye. She’s still focused on the past, not that I blame her because I did hurt her badly, but I know that there is no way we can go anywhere if she can’t see past the harms I’ve caused in the past. “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” she says, her expression softens. Her thumb runs at a part of her finger where a ring used to be. “Now, I just want us to try and make this separation work. Focus on the kids. Let’s do the right thing by them.”

I nod.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“When did it all start?” I ask, my voice cracks a little. “When did you start feeling like you’re invisible to me?”

“I’m not sure I can point down to one exact moment,” she takes a shaky breath and pauses. “The change was gradual that by the time I realised it, I didn’t even recognise us anymore. I spent days and nights wondering what happened to us. That wasn’t us.”

I wipe that one tear running halfway down her cheek, and as soon as my thumb touches her skin, I lose it. I can’t help it by this point. Tears flow as much as I try to hold them back. She’s crying too. This is painful.

“And it’d be too easy to say that I felt invisible,” she continues. “Because the truth is, I felt painfully visible. You ignored me on purpose. I wasn’t even sure what I was to you anymore, because the only chance for me to get your attention was by getting you in bed. And that was wrong. It hurts, because it felt like you only needed me to warm your bed.”

I want to deny that statement. I want to yell it’s not true. That I never intended to take her for granted. That she still makes my heart skip a beat like a bloody teenager seeing his first crush.

But I don’t.

Because she’s right. I’m not sure what happened either, but we’d changed. Maybe it’s our jobs, maybe it’s the endless responsibilities. Domesticity, children, they wore us down. Kisses became perfunctory. Hugs became less frequent. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I took my wife for a date night other than for social obligations.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologising to her if I have to, she deserves it. “I hurt you badly. I really am sorry, Emma.”

“It wasn’t all you though,” she mumbles. “I never called you out on it.”

“You didn’t,” I reply. “I never worked out why?”

“I swept it under the carpet because it was embarrassing. It felt silly having to ask for your attention. And I don’t know… pride, maybe? And the kids. I didn’t want them to know something was wrong. So I played along and carried on like nothing was happening.”

“When really…”

“It was like a punch to the guts each time. You were an excellent father. You still are, the kids adore you. This may sound insane and it’s embarrassing and painful for me to admit this, but there were times when I saw you with the kids and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. When you couldn’t even be bothered to look at me… it felt like you took a dump over all my love for you.”

“Emma…”

“I wish I could get past that. I wish I could just forget what happened and trust you again.”

I bring her in for a hug and say nothing. She needs to get this all out. This is part of the process, and I’m here to listen.

But where do we go from there?

Reconciling a broken marriage is tricky. I am not a violent person but I have never wanted to strangle people as much as I want to strangle those who wrote articles with countless advice regarding this subject, making it seem like it’s easy. Talk it out, get your point across, and you’re out of the dog house. Well, you know what, bollockface? It turns out that listening is not enough. Sod you and your dumb articles.

All I know is that I can’t rush this. She’s not ready, and that’s okay. Right now, we both have things to work on. She needs to learn to let go of her resentment, and I have to learn not to take anything and anyone for granted ever again. This is killing me, but there is no one to blame but myself. I take solace in knowing the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Maybe one day we’ll be back together. Maybe we won’t.

“Thank you for telling me all that,” I mumble against her hair.

“Thank you for listening,” she looks up and gives me a sad smile.

***

Emma comes from a big family.

There’s Jamie, her eldest brother and the only guy. I think the fact that he grew up surrounded by sisters was what made us the closest in the first place. He hates wine, even though he makes a career out of managing his own vineyard. I know, the irony. The next is Suze, sister number one who lives in Sheffield with her husband and three girls. Suze and her husband are both orthopaedic surgeons. Then my wife, the middle child. Then Meg, sister number two who just had a baby. It’s another girl so my George is still the only grandson in the family. And then Lucy, the youngest of the clan who’s still in university.

They all live nearby, and I knew that all my in-laws hated me a tiny bit for taking their daughter and sister away. They were a hard outfit to infiltrate. You don’t enter into a relationship with one of them, you get a whole gaggle of them. It was hard to get in, but once you’re in, you’re in for life.

After we’d split, I called my parents-in-law the next morning just before my flight to LA. I wasn’t sure whether or not Emma had told them about what happened, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, they’d become my parents too for a decade. So I explained and apologised. Of course, I didn’t tell them the details because I knew they were between Emma and me, and they respected us enough not to ask. They were upset, but they also understood that these things happen in life. All they wanted was just for their grandbabies to come out of this unscathed.

Now here I am, walking behind Emma and our children as we step over the threshold into her parents’ home for their monthly roast. Her parents invited me and I accepted. I don’t want to turn down any extra time I have with my kids as I’ve decided to leave today and head back to London. I was prepared to stay longer, take some time off work and fight for my marriage, but since it all has gone to pot, I figured I should leave. The world doesn’t stop even when you’re struggling with marital woes. I’ve got work to do, and I also know that it is best to give Emma space.

I hear voices as we walk inside.

“If littl’uns are going in highchairs then what’s that extra space for?” I hear Meg’s husband say.

Meg tells him. “Count again, addition was never your strong point.”

“Oh.”

The house is suddenly quiet when they see me. This is my first time seeing the whole family again after we split, and even though my parents-in-law and I are on good terms, and Jamie too, I know the sisters would be a different story. All four of them are beyond close and they’re now looking at me as if they should’ve chucked me in the oven instead of the chicken.

You don’t do that to our sister. You hurt one, you hurt all of us.

“Uncle Harry!” Freya shouts in excitement. She is one of Suze’s daughters. She and her twin sister Tessa are only a few months older than my George.

Suze, who is sitting on the sofa, looks a bit sullen, not knowing what the right call is to make. Meg and her husband freeze.

“Alright there, mate?” Jamie greets me, trying to ease the tension. Suze glares at him.

“Are you here to do magic then, Uncle Harry?” Tessa asks.

I bend down to her level. “Not sure I know any magic, Tessie.”

“Yeah you do!” Freya pipes up. “Because when we were driving here, daddy said you did a disappearing act on Aunty Ems. Show us what you did!”

“FREYA!” Her dad barks.

Meg can barely contain her giggles.

“But we like magic. You’re rubbish at magic,” she says to her dad. He widens his eyes.

The sisters are now all smiling smugly, knowing a couple of six-year-olds just shamed me on their behalf. Extra roast potatoes for those two.

Lucy, the littlest sister, suddenly enters. That’s definitely not a happy face. “Oh, it’s you. Is that why everyone went so quiet? What are you doing here?”

“Luce,” Emma mutters.

“Because I invited him,” says a voice emerging from the kitchen. My father-in-law. “Harry, glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” I reply. “Thanks for the invitation.”

Lucy stares daggers at her dad, knowing she can’t unleash her trademark rapier wit as she’s surrounded by her little nieces and nephews. That one may be the youngest but she’s the scariest out of all the sisters, my wife included.

“Look, if it’s weird, I can just leave?” I offer.

“Nonsense, you must stay for supper,” Emma’s mum replies.

“Yeah, Harry, stay,” says Emma’s dad, staring at his daughters. “I want you lot to be nice. Otherwise, I’m putting you on the kids table. You hear me?”

The three of them nod in unison.

“You two look well,” I say, my attempt to make small talk.

“You know, dad’s been singing this morning,” Emma’s mum chirps, tilting her head towards her husband. “He joined a male choir. They think they’re Westlife.”

We all can’t help but laugh. This is classic mum. The tension seems to ease away.

Let’s just hope it stays that way.

***

There’s a strange feeling of déjà vu as I take a seat on the steps in front of the cottage.

I’m all packed up and ready to go. My weekender bag is in the boot of my car. Nothing left to do but say goodbye to my wife and kids, but I don’t go straight inside.

Not yet. I need a moment.

These steps witnessed a lot of our marriage even though we’d never stayed here for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. We loved to sit out here in the summer. I remember when I first brought my stuff here shortly after we got married, we sat out here with beers, sleeves rolled up, boxes stacked into Jenga-style columns.

I also remember sitting here last year on Christmas morning. Emma and I were both in our pyjamas and slippers, sipping coffees out of our matching Christmas mugs. We watched the kids ride their new scooters up and down the street. Everything was perfect. I had no idea that my marriage would end in just two months after that.

“Harry?”

I look over my shoulder and I urge her to sit beside me. She comes over and does just that. There is silence. We don’t say a word to each other. A quiet hum of traffic in the distance, puffs of breath cloud the air making me think we should both be wearing coats. Christmas is nearly here again. My heart aches at the thought of this being our first Christmas since everything fell apart.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I should be the one apologising, Em.”

“I know you wanted to work things out,” I hear the sadness in her voice. “I really loved you, you know that, right?”

“I do,” I nod. “Our marriage, all those years… it wasn’t all bad, though, right?”

“Of course,” she quickly replies. “We had our moments. We have Minnie and George.”

We pause, letting that sink in. In all this mess, those two were and remain everything, some symbol of our marriage not being a complete disaster.

“There were also times when you were a good husband,” she adds.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to pat me on the head?”

Emma laughs under her breath.

“Your new bloke seemed a nice sort,” I tell her, because it’s true. I may hate the guy with a burning passion, but that’s only because he’s dating my wife.

“He is.”

“That got legs?” I ask her.

“Possibly.”

“I want you to be happy, Ems,” I tell her. “With or without me.”

“Harry…”

“But I also want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. No rush, no timeline. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. Because for me, it’s either you or no one else.”

The front door opens and two little faces pop out from behind it.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” Shouts Minnie.

“Well then come here and give me cuddles to warm me up,” I tell her.

Emma and I take a kid each. She takes George and lets him entangle his legs in hers, cradling himself into the hook of his mummy’s arm. Minnie uses me like a climbing frame. I bop her on the nose as I’ve done since she was a baby, and I like that it never stops being hilarious to her. The sky starts to dim, trees casting shadows onto the pavement. A house down the road has some festive lights that switch on and flicker on and off in strange syncopated patterns.

“This is nice,” Minnie mumbles. “I miss the awesome foursome.”

“The awesome foursome, huh?” I ask.

“That’s what you used to call us,” I hear the sadness in her voice and my heart aches. I know she feels this all a lot more than her little brother. “I still remember.”

“Do you really have to go again, daddy?” George looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah, do you?” Minnie asks. “I love having you here.”

“I do, my loves,” I reply sadly. “Be good for mummy, alright? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I don’t like seeing you go,” George mumbles.

The emotion is a little unbearable and I see a tear trail down my wife’s cheek. George looks petrified seeing his mum cry.

“Don’t be sad, mummy.”

“I’m not sad,” she shakes her head, quickly wiping the tear off her cheek. “I’m just sorry daddy and I couldn’t make it work.”

“Did we do something wrong?” George asks, looking at his mum and then me.

“Oh, mate,” I reach out to cup his face, Emma pulls him into a hug. “Of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong. You two are perfect, you hear me?”

“Do you still love each other?” Minnie asks.

Emma looks at me in the eye as she answers our daughter. “I’ll always love your dad, because he gave me both of you.”

“And I’ll always love your mum,” I say, my eyes pinned on my wife. “No matter what.”

Emma

“So… tell me, he a good lay? He looks the sort to have some girth.”

I probably should have warned you beforehand about this sister of mine.

Lucy is my entertainer sister who has done every job going alongside studying. She went to dance school, spent six months on a cruise ship, has been an extra and once did a two-month stint in Les Misérables. On weekends she dresses up as Disney characters and does kids’ parties which means she owns a lot of wigs and always has glitter in her bra. She’s the fun one. I keep her close because as much as I love my other siblings, this one has been a good entertainment through my separation. Mum suggested for her to live with me for a couple of weeks when I first moved back to the Peak, and I’m so glad she did. It was around the time I lost a stone and would spend most of the time napping, crying and staring at the wall, surviving on cups of tea and Rich Tea fingers. She couldn’t cook or clean and she used all my shampoo but she brought some light into the house when grey clouds threatened to consume it. She was also a great distraction because I could live vicariously through her tales of going to gigs and clubs and hear how she’s not slept and got her boobs out for reasons of fun and frivolity.

However, when you talk to her, she always goes there. She’s brash and has no conversational limit. She thinks her purpose is to not only feed me but also revive a pretty dead sex life too. Actually, it’s not just her. After my husband and I split, my sisters think it’s their job to pique my interest in men again. Luke happened after a boozy Chinese takeaway about two months ago when I joked that a spring roll was the most phallic thing I’d had in my mouth for over half a year. I remember a dumpling rolled out of Meg’s mouth in shock, so Suze decided to play the matchmaker and introduced me to Luke who worked at the same hospital with her.

Tonight, we’re having another takeaway night since my parents have all the grandchildren for the weekend. Bless them for entertaining that crew of children we seem to have acquired over the past nine years. We have seven between Suze, myself and Meg, and I just hope that my parents are well stocked with wine. They will need it.

We all sit around my dining room table with the remnants of a KFC bargain bucket, a selection of Thai food, a giant bag of chips and some battered sausages. I’d admit that we were already a little drunk to buy food sanely. Luke is also here, I thought it’d be nice to give my sisters the chance to get to know him. And it doesn’t take Lucy more than thirty seconds after Luke gets up to take a phone call before asking such questions.

“I don’t know? I haven’t slept with him yet.”

Lucy looks at me in confusion. “But you’ve been on dates and stuff?”

“We did have a cheeky snog last week but we’re taking it slow.”

“What are you waiting for? Just go shag him. Erase the memory of that wanker?”

“Hey, he’s your niece and nephew’s father,” I chastise her for calling Harry names. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep with Luke?” Meg, my other sister asks me. “Lucy is right though. He’s really tall, I bet he’s VWE.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Very well-endowed.”

I chuckle. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Meg giggles and places her head on my shoulder.

“Last time I had sex was on Valentine’s Day, girls. Do your maths. The next day, my marriage collapsed.”

Both of them huddle into me like penguins.

“Which is why you just need to get over yourself,” Lucy remarks. “You need to remember what sex is like. It’ll be fun and make you feel good. If you don’t want to do it with Luke, you can have some taster session? I’ve got a uni mate who’d shag you.”

“Lovely. No.”

Lucy huffs. “You’re so boring.”

“Honestly, Em, Luke is fit. Seems like a nice fella, and he genuinely likes you. I’d have a go on him if I weren’t married. You should just do it,” says Meg.

“Yeah, you could shag him tonight,” Lucy adds. “Meg and I can piss off out and then…”

Then she does a strange rave-style dance as she thinks of her plan coming together. Luke returns from his phone call and Lucy jiggles in her seat. Don’t you bloody dare.

“Luke, we need more wine,” says Lucy. “There is not enough and we thought you could walk down to the shop and get some?”

Meg and I look at each other for a second, wondering what our sister is up to.

“Sure, yeah, I could get wine,” Luke replies. “Any other requests?”

If she tells him to get condoms in then I will skewer her with a chopstick.

“Anything you might fancy or need?”

She’s walking an incredibly thin, thin line.

Luke gets up to retrieve his coat and grazes my hand as he does. This move doesn’t go unnoticed by Meg and she gives me a sly wink. I hand him my keys and he heads for the front door. Meg stares Lucy out.

“Seriously?” She says.

“We need to prepare you if you’re going to sleep with him.”

“Like mentally?” I ask.

“Like have you had a tidy? This will be your first time. You’ll need to at least tidy up the flaps and do a bit of topiary.”

“LUCY!” I gasp and laugh at the same time, holding my hand to my face. Who is this woman? How can you raise five children in the same house and come up with such a random entity?

She stands up and heads for my kitchen drawers, rifling around until she pulls out a pair of scissors.

“Show me your bush,” she orders.

“Lucy! I prepare food with those scissors.”

“And we’ll wash them?”

Meg is in hysterics as she sees this scene unfolding in front of us.

“I’m not getting my bush out in my kitchen.”

“You’re so dull,” Lucy complains. “I’m trying to help here. What are your pits like? Shame there’s no time to tackle your upper lip.”

I put my hand over it instinctively. “I’ve got a moustache?”

“Well, you’re not Tom Selleck but it could do with a bleach.”

“You’re being cruel now, Luce,” Meg giggles. “But I think we do need the comedy of seeing Lucy trimming your bush in the kitchen.”

I stand up reluctantly and unbutton my jeans.

“Ha!” Exclaims Lucy. “You’re wearing nice knickers, you knew this was going to happen. Just peel them back a little and let me have a look.”

“Be quick for fuck’s sake. This is something that no one needs to see.”

“Do you want a shape?”

“What?”

“Yeah, like a heart? It’d be cute.”

“No!”

Meg roars with laughter.

“I’ll just trim the length then,” says Lucy. “Meg, put your hand out.”

“Do I have to?”

“Don’t you love your sister enough to at least hold her pubes?”

I’m not even sure what’s happening here. One sister is very close to my private regions with a sharp object and I hear the creak of metal as she shears away. The other collects the trimmings in a napkin in her palm. This feels like an opportune moment to ring Suze, our other sister, and start a FaceTime chat. That time we all took one for the team so Emma could reclaim her sex life.

“Thanks, Luce.”

“You don’t say this enough I feel.”

“We really don’t,” says Meg.

“Want me to look at yours, Meg?”

“I’m good.”

“What if he’s into weird stuff?” I ask.

“Like?”

“I don’t know… maybe like choking? Stuff like that.”

“Well, no one breaks out all the moves on their first time,” says Meg but Lucy gives us a look like she begs to differ.

“And I’m not on anything. I stopped the pills months ago. What if I get pregnant?”

“That’s what condoms are for?”

They both give me a look that says I am not fourteen and that I should have an inkling about how reproduction works and the preventative measures that I can put in place to stop myself from getting pregnant.

“How do I initiate it?”

“Maybe you could dance for him?” says Luce mockingly. “You’ve both had a drink, let it just happen. Planned sex is the worst kind of sex.”

“I planned nothing. You’re the one who’s got the kitchen scissors.”

“I’m done, anyway. Not my finest work but then at least he’ll be able to find it?”

Meg laughs again as she goes to the bin with her napkin of pubes. I do my jeans up and sit at the table, downing what’s left in my glass. What if he can’t get it up? Or worse, what if he doesn’t like my boobs? I have modest boobs. They wouldn’t win any competitions. What if he wants better boobs?

“You’re overthinking,” says Meg.

“I haven’t got any condoms.”

Lucy reaches inside her handbag, pulls out two packets of johnnies and hands them to me. How far ahead has she planned this?

“Any other excuse?” Lucy asks.

“Look, tonight, just get naked with the fella, have some bloody fun. Enjoy yourself.”

I hear the key go in the latch of the front door. That was quick. Crap. Luke enters the kitchen with two bottles of red that I immediately feel guilty about as I’ve got a rack of it in the utility room. He also carries a few packs of crisps and takes the kitchen scissors that were on my table.

“No!” I stop him. “Those need to be washed.”

He looks at me in confusion and I love that he puts them in the sink without any further questions asked. He rips opens the packet of crisps with his hands instead.

“Crisps?”

Lucy grabs a handful of crisps before she grabs her phone, pretending to read some texts. “Bollocks! Meg, we forgot about the party.”

Meg quickly plays along. “Oh yeah, crap. It’s that birthday party, innit?”

I feel awful. I’m sending the sisters back out into the cold so Luke and I can have the house to ourselves. They both keep winking at me which is more down to the fact that they’ve had at least a bottle of wine each for themselves tonight. Luke stands at the kitchen door while I wave everyone off. This feels weird.

“Have fun, kids!” Chants Lucy as she shepherds Meg away from the house. I shut the door.

And then there were two. I turn around and Luke is no longer at the doorway. I tiptoe into the kitchen to find him stacking plates.

“Shall we tidy up now?” He asks.

“It can wait.”

My phone on the table lights up with an incoming text. It’s Lucy. Don’t forget to adjust your tits. Make sure they’re facing forwards. Show a bit of bra.

Does this mean my boobs are not always facing forward? Where are they looking? This isn’t helping at all. I ignore it.

“Alright,” Luke says with a smile that makes me feel relaxed but also on the faint side of nauseated. It’s probably first time nerves. Is it weird that I’m thinking about the cleanliness of my bedroom? Did I pick up yesterday’s bra from the corner of my room? Do I remember how to go down on a man? What if he doesn’t fancy me?

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether my marriage ended with Harry because I was terrible in bed. Maybe I wasn’t attractive enough. I’ve had kids, parts of me are stretched and doughy. Maybe I didn’t provide what he needed.

In the last year of our marriage, I think it’s safe to say that I was mainly the one to initiate things between us and my success rate wasn’t 100%. There’s this nagging thought in my head that maybe even on those nights I succeeded, those were just pity shags.

You know what, sod it.

I grab him by the collar and kiss him. He stumbles a little but then lets his body fold into mine. I can do this. Crap. He’s lifting me up. He sits me on the counter and I’d like to say the moment overtakes but there’s red wine inches from my arse so I move the glass with my hand whilst still kissing him. We’re kissing. This is weird. It’s different. It’s not my husband’s lips. Why am I thinking about my husband’s lips?

I shake my head, banishing that image. Harry doesn’t belong in this room with me right now.

I feel his hands in the small of my back and then he lifts my jumper over my head. I’m in my bra. Don’t overthink it. Oh, the bra is off. My nipples are out in the kitchen. I run my fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down my neck. Is it weird that right now, at this very moment, all I can think about is that his blond, floppy hair looks like a golden retriever?

I gasp and push him away involuntarily when his mouth wraps on my nipple. This is wrong. This feels wrong. I thought it was just first time jitters but now I think this is deeper than that.

“Are you alright?” He asks, looking concerned.

I grab my jumper and quickly put it back on. “I… I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t. I have to go.”

“Emma, I’m sorry,” his face reads panic. “Did I read the signals wrong? I thought you wanted this. I feel terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologise,” I say hastily. “You didn’t. I did want this. Or so I thought. It’s just… I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll be ready any time soon. Or ever.”

“What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?”

I have to be straight with him. I take a deep breath. “I want to give you the opportunity to walk away. You’re a good guy, Luke. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to string you along if we can never progress.”

“Is it your ex-husband?”

He’s still my husband. But I don’t say this out loud.

“He told me that he wanted to give our marriage another shot about two weeks ago when he was here,” I tell him. “I did say no right away. I didn’t think it was a good idea. But…”

“Is it really?” He asks. “You two have a lot of history. Two kids. Why wouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“I’m worried.”

“And what are you worried about?”

“My heart?” I say quietly. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

Luke smiles at me through sympathetic eyes. “Listen to me, Emma. I’m not a cardiologist, but I know that the hearts are the strongest organs in the human body. They can go through anything.”

What happens next feels like a blur. All I know is that by midnight, I’m already halfway down the M1, on my way to London.

Harry

It was a knock on the door that woke me up.

When I first open my eyes, I’m disoriented. I don’t know what time it is, or how long I’ve been asleep. Then I realise I’m on the sofa, and it’s still dark outside. It’s also raining. I walk towards the door and open it, just in time to catch a figure going down the steps, which doesn’t take me more than a second to recognise. I am in complete shock. Is this real? Is that really my wife, standing in front of my door in the middle of the night? Or are my eyes deceiving me?

“Emma?”

She stops on the pavement and slowly turns to face me. She’s spooked through—her jeans moulded to the curves of her legs, the sleeves of her jumper dripping, her hair flat, lips slightly tinged with blue.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she says. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

I open the door wider, and my voice is drowsy and deep when I say, “Come on, let’s talk inside.”

She takes a step back instead.

“I just… I wasn’t thinking. I’m here. I don’t know why,” she sounds genuinely bewildered—even a little panicked.

“Are the kids in the car?” I ask her and she shakes her head. The wind blows, spraying ice-cold drops across my bare skin where my shirt hangs open. “You’re shivering, honey, come inside.”

She stares at me, so many emotions swirling in her expression. She’s like a skittish kitten who can’t decide if she should let the stranger pat her head or haul up the nearest tree. It breaks my heart.

“I don’t think I can.”

So I go to her.

The rain is cold and hard, soaking my shirt. Her eyes dart from the pavement, to my chest, up to my eyes and back again, like she’s ready to bolt—but her feet stay glued.

I lean in so she can hear me through the rain. “Do you remember the first time we went to Paris together? When we were young and crazy enough to only rent one electric scooter for both of us, and we rode around the city at night?”

The corners of her mouth tug up a little. “I remember.”

“But then I was going way too fast and we hit a rock, and both of us went flying. I didn’t want to ride anymore the next day, because I was afraid you’d get hurt. Do you remember what you told me?”

“I said…” she begins, her eyes meet mine. “I said we had to keep riding. Because it’s the only thing that made falling worth it.”

I nod tenderly and hold out my hand. “I’m not going to let us fall this time, Emma.”

Her eyes are back on the pavement. “I’m not sure-”

I know she still doesn’t trust me. I know that sadness on her face and how it penetrates so deeply. I know she’s probably better off without me, the bastard who crushed her heart and soul and took her for granted for years.

We shy away from the things that hurt us. But that’s what scars are for. They protect the wounds. They cover them with thick, numb tissue so we’ll never have to feel that same pain again. The scars that my wife has inside? They’re tough.

I beg when she continues to stare at my hand, “Please, just come inside.”

Slowly, tentatively, her hand slides into mine.

And we go in out of the rain.

I take her upstairs to the bedroom that used to be ours. Her teeth chatter as she sits on the edge of the bed. I throw a blanket over her shoulders, rubbing her arms, sliding down to cup her hands.

“Shit, you’re freezing. How long were you out there?”

“A while. I was walking… thinking.”

“Just some friendly advice. Next time you go a-wandering, stop and buy an umbrella.”

Emma shivers as she laughs. I pull the blanket closer around her and rub her back.

“So… you gonna tell me what’s this midnight adventure about?”

Her voice comes out soft and wavering in the dark room. “I was with Luke.”

“Did he do something to you? I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to pull a perfect murder.”

She shakes her head and chuckles. “We were having a takeaway night. Meg and Lucy were there too, but then they left and there were just the two of us and-”

“Please spare me the details,” I beg.

“Nothing happened. I just… I couldn’t get through it. Your face kept popping out in my head and I knew that if I went all the way through, we’d lose our chance. And I didn’t want us to lose our chance. I know this is completely the opposite of what I said to you two weeks ago but it’s true. I wasn’t ready then and maybe I’m still not ready now, but I don’t know about the future and you said you’d wait for me and…”

Her words trail off and my chest clenches with that sublime mix of excitement and trepidation. Of wanting something so much it’s like every cell in your body is stretching, reaching for it, yet there’s a grey shadow of worry that you might never get to touch it.

“Oh, Ems…”

I cup my hands around hers and blow into them. Another shiver vibrates through her.

For a moment we sit there in silence. Memories of us in this bed come flooding back. Of the kids piling in here bright and early, and us having cuddles and catch ups over the week just gone. Of the two of us and that sacred half an hour we had together before we go to sleep. Where we could have a proper chat without little voices interrupting us every few seconds. Sometimes we’d read together too, and other times when we just couldn’t be arsed, we’d simply spend that half an hour scrolling through memes and having a laugh together.

“You’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” I say gently, with absolutely no teasing suggestion. We’re right on the precipice. I can feel it. And I have to tread so carefully, because one wrong move could send her away, truly lost to me.

I peel my soaked shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes move, trailing over my shoulders. I stand and slowly unbutton my jeans, leaving me in black boxer briefs.

Her eyes follow my every move, looking at me.

I push the blanket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I grasp her jumper at the bottom and lift slowly. I wait for her to push me away but she doesn’t. She raises her arms instead. I pull the jumper over her head and it lands with a plop on the floor. I remind myself not to enjoy the view. I’m trying hard not to look.

My chest rises and falls as rapidly as hers. I sink to my knees in front of her and reach out for the button of her jeans. She lifts her hips and my fingertips graze her skin as I slide them down her thighs, leaving the white lace knickers in place.

“Get under the sheets,” I whisper and she does just that.

She scoots to her side of the bed, and I slide beside her. Without a word, she snuggles into my side. The cool feel of her flesh is a shock at first, but in just a few moments, my heat chases away her chill. Except for her feet. I practically jump when she runs one up my calf.

“Yer a bloody ice cube!”

She laughs kind of evilly.

We face each other, almost nose to nose. Her hair still drips at the ends and a drop trickles over her collarbone, down her chest, and I’ve got to take a deep breath—because I want to lick it off her so badly.

“Talk to me,” she says softly.

“I’m taking time off work.”

“But you never take time off work?”

“I’ve got a lot to make up to the kids,” I tell her. “So I told Jeff to bugger off for at least until after New Year.”

I see her smile in the dim light.

“I’m gonna stay up with my mum,” I add. “I’ll only be an hour away from you lot.”

This is something that I’ve been mulling about. If I really do want a chance with Emma, I need to move up there because absence does not make the heart grow fonder. That may be true in secondary school when you went away for the summer. But in marriage, especially in a broken marriage, absence separates people. It creates distance. That’s the opposite of what you’re trying to achieve. You want the closeness back.

My wife’s palm runs over my bicep—tentatively at first—then with a surer touch. “They’d love that.”

“Also, you remember my old mate Stu?” She nods. “We got in touch just earlier today. He’s got a litter of puppies and he offered one for us. I told him I need to talk to you first. So what do you think?”

“A puppy, huh?”

“A puppy.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” she says. “But I’ve never had a dog though.”

“I can train it first at my mum’s?” I offer. “I’ll get it all settled. Then when it starts sleeping through the night, I’ll bring it over.”

“Does it make me a terrible mum for wishing we had that kind of service when the kids were newborns?”

“We had that service. It’s called sending them to the grandparents.”

We both laugh, and when the laughter dies down, we’re silent for a few minutes. The thrum of my heartbeat jacks up as her hand continues to stroke my arm.

“Harry?” Her voice is the barest whisper, like she’s checking to see if I’m asleep.

“Hmm?”

“I… I’ve missed you. So much.”

And I’m done.

The need to kiss her, to touch her, has been pulling at me like a raging current ever since I saw her on the front step, and with those few words, I let the current take me.

***

Numerous studies have shown that having sex extends the human life span. At this rate, Emma and I are going to live forever. We probably slept twenty minutes max throughout the night and I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve done it. I’m pretty sure the last time we did something like that was ten years ago on our honeymoon.

We’re sitting at the breakfast nook. Her hair mussy and she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. She looks freshly fucked, which I know to be true, and I reckon she’d be ready to crawl back into bed with me if I just crook my finger. But I don’t do that. Because this, us, sitting here in the morning sunlight, playing footsies under the table while we talk over coffee is all I’ve been dreaming about every morning.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks when she catches me looking.

“You,” I smile. “You look perfect.”

“No, no more,” she shakes her head frantically. “I won’t be able to walk.”

“You dirty lass, I was trying to be romantic and all that,” I can’t help but snort in laughter. “And you always do that… rebuff any type of compliment I try to give you.”

It’s true. If I tell her she looks beautiful, she waves a dismissive hand at me. If I compliment her mind, she blushes. Even an appreciative look from me has her turning shy like a schoolgirl.

When she doesn’t respond to me, I continue to poke at her. “Why is that? Why does it embarrass you when I tell you that you’re smokin’ hot?”

She wrinkles her nose at me. “Because it’s weird. I feel like you just have to say that.”

She pretends to go through one of her old magazines from when she still lived here. I reach across the table and bat at it, causing one side to pull out of her hands and reveal her entire face to me. Now she’s glaring. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

And I grin when I see red stain her cheeks.

“And you’ve got the most gorgeous body. I take one look at you naked and I can’t help but get rock hard.”

“Stop it,” she blusters, now blushing all the way down her neck.

I change tactics, but I know this will embarrass her just as much. “You are the most amazing woman. Kindest, genuine and grounded. Funniest too. And you’re the best mother for our babies.”

“Okay,” she snaps at me as she closes the magazine and slams it down onto the table. “You’ve made your point.”

Chuckling, I stretch back in my chair and nudge her foot with mine under the table. “You’re adorable.”

She rolls her eyes, which I find to be beyond adorable.

Standing up from my chair, I walk around the table and hold my hand out to her. She willingly takes it and stands when I give her a tug. It’s a natural move for her, to walk straight into my embrace and press herself against me. I tilt my head and kiss her on her jaw. “It’s something you need to get used to… compliments from me. It’s never going to stop.”

She moans softly in my ear.

“Want to know what else you’re going to have to get used to?” I whisper as I kiss my way down her neck.

Her fingers come up, tangle in my hair, and fist tightly. “What’s that?”

“My face between your legs.”

***

Some people might not put Quaglino’s into the romantic restaurant bracket, but they’d be wrong, very wrong. In actual fact, it’s quite hard to top. The interior has this 1930’s romance charm with candlelit tables, dark-panelled walls and an adjoining room for dancing to the soft tunes of the piano man singing bluesy versions of classic songs.

Tonight, I managed to convince Emma to go out to dinner with me before she goes back to our babies. I insist on driving her since I don’t want her to drive alone at night again, which she initially refused but finally agreed.

We finish our dinner and split a slice of cheesecake for dessert. Probably not my brightest idea since I keep having to readjust myself because seeing her slowly swallow a mouthful of white, creamy concoction is a pure kind of torture. But I try to kick those dirty thoughts out of my mind and focus.

Since last night, we’ve successfully managed to avoid the talk. It feels like we’re in a bubble where everything is perfect and we’re just scared to burst it, but I know this can’t go on. Emma and I need to have a proper chat if we want this to work.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“You and I need to talk, don’t you think?” I begin.

“You’re right,” she nods. “So…”

“What is this?” I gesture between us. “Are you ready to give us another shot?”

“I think so,” she nods. “But I want us to take it slow.”

“You set the pace,” I assure her. “I want this to work more than I want anything else in my life. So I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“We’ll see this as a new dalliance,” she adds.

I know this is supposed to be serious so I try hard not to break into laughter. “Okay. I will court you but I won’t ask you to move to an estate in the country. Not right away at least.”

“I’m serious.”

“You sound like Austen.”

She rolls her eyes. “And we can’t tell anyone either.”

“I agree,” I tell her. “And from now on, we talk to each other, alright? I’ll try to make you happy the best way I know how. But if it’s not enough for you, then you need to tell me.”

She nods, but then her graze drops before she asks. “You really do want this right?”

“I told you I want this to work more than anything else in my life.”

“It’s just… when you first told me you wanted to fight for our marriage, I was overwhelmed because it was all so sudden. You told me everything I wanted to hear. Even at that moment, everything in me screamed for us to just fall back into it all the way. But there was also a part of me that thought you were just lonely, and maybe you thought that us getting back together was the answer to it.”

“Not true-”

Emma holds up her hand. “Maybe not true, but it’s my fear. That’s why I kissed Luke that night, because I was desperate. I wanted to push things with him because I knew I’d never love him the way I love you. I knew that if things went to pot, I wouldn’t be half as devastated. But with you? I don’t think I can survive that type of heartbreak again, H. You don’t know how much it killed me to end our marriage. I can’t afford to fall back into something that’s not going to last.”

“Emma,” I reach across the table to take her hand. “I can’t even imagine how hard it was for you. I know for sure it was not a decision you made lightly, nor on a whim. I wish I had fought you on it then… had fought for you then. There was a time when I thought our marriage was over, and I was going to let you go. But I’m not going to do that now. If it takes you weeks, months, hell, Emma… if it takes you years to fully trust my devotion to you, I’m in this for however long it takes.”

Emma nods, biting into her lower lip. I can see her eyes starting to water because every bit of this is overwhelming. She turns her head towards the music floating in from the other room. It’s a Van Morrison cover, Crazy Love.

“Wanna dance?”

The request takes me by surprise since this isn��t like her. But I toss my napkin on the table and move to stand next to her, holding out my hand. The simple delight on her face when her hand slides into mine is everything.

We step out onto the edge of the dance floor. I wrap my arm around her lower back, holding her tight and flush against me. One of her hands rests on my shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. The other is clasped in mine just over my heart. We sway, eyes pinned at each other for a few moments.

“Thought you hate dancing?” I smirk.

“Still hate it,” she answers. “I’m just using it as an excuse to be closer to you.”

She sighs, practically sinks into my arms. Emma’s head fits against my chest like she was made to be there. My chin rests against her hair.

“Emma?”

She lifts her head from my chest. “Yeah?”

“You don’t need an excuse.”

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love…

***

“What the-”

“Oi!” I yell, quickly pulling the duvet over my wife and I. “Heard of knocking?”

“Heard of a bedroom lock?” Lucy challenges.

Last night, we drove up the M1 straight from the restaurant. We took breaks in deserted services with shiny floors and bad lighting where we had coffees and wandered around WHSmith bulk buying sweets even though it’s really not that far. But you can never have too many travel sweets, can you?

And now, here we are, back at the cottage. The kids are still at their grandparents until this afternoon so Emma and I are enjoying the benefit of having the house all to ourselves by having a morning shag. That is until one of her sisters walks in on us. I’m very aware that I’m still inside Emma.

I pull out, roll over to lay down next to my wife, and we both stare at Lucy who is dressed from head to toe like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin.

“Party?” Emma asks her sister. We both try not to giggle as she sashays in to look at herself in the mirror then perches on the bed in her harem pants. Today, she’s gone heavy on the winged eyeliner and shows off a flat midriff. I quite like the pointy silver shoes though.

“No, Tesco,” she says dryly. “Obviously a party.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask her.

Lucy glares at me. “What are you doing here? Besides rearranging my sister’s guts, of course.”

I don’t even flinch. I’ve been married to Emma for ten years, I’m used to this sister of hers.

“I’m trying to win your sister back,” I say earnestly. I know that Emma and I talked about keeping this a secret, but she literally walked on us shagging. There’s no point in denying it. It’s best that she knows my true intention rather than thinking we’re divorced with benefits.

“Eh, about time,” she replies nonchalantly.

“Luce, please keep this to yourself for now,” Emma begs her. “This is still new.”

“I will,” she nods. “Just a friendly reminder, though, Styles. If you hurt my sister again, I won’t even think twice before starting a business selling voodoo dolls of you. Bet I could make a fortune of that.”

In their girl gang, Lucy is the wildcard, the likeliest to carry a shank. I don’t even laugh because she could be serious.

“Duly noted.”

“What are you doing here this early?” Emma asks her sister.

“I wanted to ask if I can borrow that giant tiger in George’s room?”

“Feel free to borrow the rug in the front room as well,” I cackle.

“Ooh yeah,” Emma chirps. “Are you going to find a whole new world?”

“Have you got your Aladdin?”

She pulls a face at our mocking. “My mate who’s supposed to be Aladdin is sick so I asked Jamie to fill in and he agreed because he owed me a big favour. But this lot changed their mind and wanted a genie so now I have to go to Jamie’s and convince him to let me do a full blue body paint on him.”

Emma and I roar with laughter. “Please, please, please, take some piccies.”

***

A month later…

I can only imagine the joy on my children’s faces when they open the door. I’ll be standing there with the pup in hand, but I know I’m practically vibrating with excitement myself. I glance over at the little dog crate that we’d prepared to transport him in. It’s a sweet, nine-week-old Bernese mountain dog. He’s pretty chill, curled into a round ball, but he’s not sleeping. His eyes are open and alert, as if he’s just waiting to find out what’s around the next corner.

The back of my Range Rover is loaded with two boxes of food, dog toys, bowls, a leash, and appropriate treats. Since I’m still crashing at my mum’s, that will go to her place for when the kids and this puppy come to stay. Emma has an identical list at her home, already purchased and hiding until we hand the puppy off to the kids.

I’ve got a feeling that today is going to be a good day. All morning, Emma and I texted back and forth. Some of it was practical, like making sure we agreed on all the dog rules we’d lay down with the kids tonight. Some of it was lighthearted teasing. Some of it was dirty.

I can’t remember the last time I texted my wife throughout the day just for the hell of it. I had fun with it, and I know without a doubt she had fun with it too. Which made me realise what a twat I’d been for never doing something as simple as letting her know she was on my mind in just such a way.

Pulling into the drive, I cut my headlights so the kids wouldn’t see me approach. I shut the engine off, quietly get out of my side, and press the door closed quietly. On the other side, I open the passenger door, then spring the latch on the dog crate, and this tiny little puppy totters straight at me with tail wagging.

I lift him in my arms. I shut the door and then move over to the patch of grass. I put the puppy down so he will go potty before I bring him in. When I was a kid, we had a dog called Max, but I sort of grew up with him so I didn’t remember when he was a puppy. And Emma never had a dog before, so we’re sort of winging it with this puppy training thing. But I don’t fret about it. I mean, we’ve had babies, they’re harder than this, surely?

I patiently wait for this little fella to do his business, which includes a few minutes where he attacks my shoelaces and tugs. Shite, he’s cute.

Eventually, he sniffs around, tail high and then abruptly squats to pee. I thought boy dogs lift their legs when they pee but maybe not at this age. I immediately bend and give him praise with an upbeat, positive tone that makes him excited. Who’s daddy’s clever little fella? You are! Yes, you are! You did well, mate. That was brilliant! He puts his paws up on my shin, accepting my stretches with tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of his head. My kids are going to fall in love with this little guy.

I scoop him up in my arms when he’s done and make my way inside. But instead of entering from the front door, I circle the house so I can enter from the back, knowing they must be all in the kitchen as this is usually the time when the kids would do their homework for next week. Walking past the window, I see that I’m right. Emma is at the kitchen island with George next to her and Minnie on the opposite side. My heart starts beating faster at the thought of spending the day with my family—and apparently our new third child in my arms—and I find it almost shameful I have such excitement over it. Shouldn’t I have always been this excited? Or is it normal for things to just settle, and we take them for granted?

I shake that thought off of my mind. I had this important talk with my wife a couple of weeks ago about how we shouldn’t focus on the past. We’re both committed to repairing our marriage, and for it to work, we both know we must commit to living in the present. Because at the end of the day, the present is all we have.

I knock on the door and as planned, Emma will tell the kids to answer it.

In moments, it’s swinging open. I get a flash of Emma walking up behind our kids, but my eyes are pinned on them. They’re both in complete shock, eyes wide open staring at the puppy squirming in my arms.

Both stare at me mutely, frozen, as if they can’t believe that this is real.

Finally, I say, “surprise!”

Minnie’s gaze rises up to meet mine. “Is that ours?”

“This is ours,” I nod, laughing. But still, neither of them move forwards, so I goad them. “Come and get him?”

That’s all it takes for Minnie to scoop this little fella into her arms, pressing her nose into his head and murmuring little endearments. George scratches him and he reacts to their greetings by wiggling frantically and trying to lick both of my kids’ faces. They both laugh in a delighted way I’ve never quite heard before.

I look at my wife and see her tender smile as she watches our littles. I can tell she’s as charmed by it as I am.

I walk inside because it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside and shut the door. “He just peed outside, but we need to keep a close eye on him. If he starts sniffing around or circling, that probably means he needs a wee. Scoop him up and take him out to the back. After he’s done with his thing, give him lots of praise and affirmation.”

“Got it,” Minnie says as she plops down on the living room floor with the pup. The puppy jumps around, and all three of them start to play.

“Now, what should we name him?” Emma asks.

“Droolius Caesar?” I joke.

Emma laughs. “Jimmy Chew?”

“Sarah Jessica Barker?” I continue. “Wait, no, it’s a boy. Franz Fur-dinand?”

“Sir Barks-a-Lot?”

“Deputy Dawg?”

“Bark Twain?”

We both laugh. We’re shite at this. The kids are too busy with the puppy to comment on our suggestions.

SpongeBob SquarePants is on the telly playing in the background. None of them are watching, but I see SpongeBob scratching his snail pet under the chin before he picks up said pet and says, “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

“Gary,” I say. The kids look at me and I point at the telly.

“That’s a ridiculous name for a dog,” Emma cackles. “But I like it.”

“That’s a human name?” Minnie’s brows knit slightly.

“I like it!” George exclaims, then proceeds to baby talk the pup who’s chewing on the end of Minnie’s braid. “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

We laugh.

“H,” Emma calls, and my gaze moves to her. She jerks her chin to the kitchen. “Help me set up the table? I’ve got a cold beer for you.”

Minnie and George still completely ignore us as we move into the kitchen.

It would be natural for me to sit at the kitchen island while Emma gets the beer and checks on the supper, but the kids can see me from where they sit in the living room. So I follow my wife behind the island instead.

Before she can make it two steps, I move right into the back of her. Hands at her hips, I push her all the way forward until the counter catches her hips, then I dip to put my lips to her neck.

Emma’s head falls back and she utters the tiniest of sighs, one arm looping back to go around the side of my head so she can thread her fingers in my hair. It’s an intimate embrace, but not one to provoke lust. Just a message that I missed her even though I saw her two days ago, and I love touching her in this gentle, loving way.

“The kids,” she murmurs. “They might see us.”

“Oh, the tragedy,” I whisper dryly. “Our children seeing their parents hugging.”

Emma snickers and pulls away, glancing over her shoulder. “It would be shocking to them. And until we know for sure what we are and where we’re going, we need to keep them in the dark, remember? I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”

“You’re right,” I mumble in a low voice before moving to the island. I glance back at the living room and see the puppy on George’s back, trying to climb up. “No touching around the kids.”

She smiles and hands me a beer. She’s got one in her hand, and we tap bottles. She then moves to the oven, where she bends to take a peek through the window. Obviously, I stare at her arse as she does.

“It’s done,” she announces, opening the oven to pull the pan of shepherd’s pie.

“Need help with that?’ I ask, noting it looks like it probably weighs fifty pounds.

Twisting, she grins. “Sure. I made a double batch to send you home with some leftovers.”

That gets me. Not only she made one of my favourite meals, but she’s also sending me home with leftovers. I pop off the stool, round the island and take the two potholders she’s holding out to me.

After I carefully lift the pan from the oven, she shuts the oven door. I set it down on the two trivets she’s placed on the counter.

Bending over, I inhale the scent deeply. “Smells fantastic.”

Emma bumps her hip against me. “Well… you’ve been pretty amazing these last few weeks, so…”

I bump her hip back before sliding my hand around her waist. Bending my head, I murmur. “Admit it… it’s for the orgasms I gave you after the school run the other day.”

She chuckles with a sly smile. “Possibly.”

Leaning in closer, I touch my temple on the top of her head, lowering to a complete whisper. “You do know that I can give you that any day you want, right, Em? All you’ve got to do is ask.”

“Oh, I will,” she teases.

“What’s going on here?” Minnie says from behind us.

Emma and I jump apart as if we’d been electrocuted by each other. We spin to see Minnie standing there, with George next to her holding Gary in his arms. These two must have worn that pup out as he is still, watching us curiously.

Minnie’s expression, on the other hand, is condemning and suspicious.

“Nothing’s going on, poppet,” Emma says, her voice a little squeaky in panic. It’s adorable.

“Your mum and I were just talking,” I calmly explain.

“With your arm around her waist and whispering,” Minnie challenges. “Looks more like flirting to me.”

“Are you upset about it?” I challenge back. I knew she was upset when we separated and she struggled with it for a long time.

Her brows knit together. “I’m just confused.”

Emma’s expression indicates she has no clue what to say. I can’t say I’m any more well equipped, but I’m going to take this one. I give my wife a subtle chin tilt, silently telling her I’ll handle this and relief evident in her eyes.

“Come on, you lot. Help me sort Gary’s stuff,” I say, herding them towards the garage.

All three of them follow me into the garage, Gary still cosy in George’s arms.

I immediately spot the stack of supplies, which includes a dog crate similar to mine, as well as bowls, a soft dog bed, food and toys. I pick up the soft bed towards the door that leads back into the house. Minnie turns to precede me, but I stop her. “Hang on there a second, poppet.”

When she pivots to face me her expression is guarded. “You asked about your mum and me. What do you want to know?”

“Were you two flirting with each other just now?” She demands. Crap. She’s nine. She’s not supposed to know that stuff.

I can’t believe I get a little warm in the face at such a question, but I nod. I know it’s probably too soon to tell them but there’s no point in denying this. Both of my children are smart, and they deserve to know what’s going on.

Her eyes narrow. “So are you… what… getting back together?”

“Does it mean you’re gonna live with us again, daddy?” George chirps.

“Not yet, nuggets. It’s not that simple.”

“It kind of is,” she replies. “You left for months. You didn’t even come during the summer. Then once she started dating Luke-”

“What’s dating?” George turns to his sister.

“It’s when you like someone and they like you back and you become boyfriend and girlfriend then you go out to eat together and do other stuff,” Minnie explains, then she continues. “Then once she started dating Luke, you’re suddenly coming around more often. And then she told me that Luke wouldn’t come over anymore and now you two are making googly eyes at each other.”

We lapse into silence for a moment. I need to think carefully about what to say next. George beats me. “I think I’m dating someone.”

“You what?” My eyes widen.

“Yeah. I asked Poppy in the playground to be my girlfriend the other day and she said yes. Then after we were done playing on the slides we got hungry so she shared her raisins with me. I also let her take a sip of my Ribena.”

I try hard not to break into laughter but Minnie doesn’t even crack a smile.

“Okay… so here’s the thing. I was very upset. I know that was wrong of me to just leave without saying goodbye, and it was wrong of me for not visiting sooner. I needed time to let it go, and to accept what your mum wanted. But not once during that time did I not want to come back home. I’ve always wanted my family back.”

“Then what changed?” Minnie asks.

“Your mum and I spent some time apart because we both thought that was the best decision. But we were wrong. Because we realised that we didn’t want to be without each other. So now I’m trying to prove that I’ve changed. That I’m a better man, and I’m ready to be a better husband. The one your mum deserves.”

“See,” Minnie murmurs, her expression filled with confusion. George dips his head and rubs his cheek against Gary’s head, who seems to be on the verge of falling asleep. “I don’t get it. You and mum always seemed to get along great. You never argued. I never understood why you left.”

I move in close to my daughter and brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “A lot of that stuff is private between your mum and I, poppet.”

George asks. “But why can’t you just move in now, daddy?”

“It takes time, mate. Your mum and I need more time to sort ourselves out. But I promise you two that we’re trying our hardest here, okay? We need you both to be patient. Can you do that for us?”

They both nod in unison. Gary blinks twice.

“I can’t wait for us to be family again,” says Minnie.

Grinning, I bend to kiss her head. “Me too, poppet…”

***

Emma

“Gary! This way, Gary!”

Harry and I look at each other across this rather windy hilltop. The kids and Gary are exploring the neighbouring bushes and pathways as we perch ourselves on a rock nearby. We take in the view, the breeze biting at my cheeks.

My husband turns to me. “Tea? I put some whisky in it.”

“Hell, why not.”

Harry pours the tea out and we clink mugs. He brushes his thumb across my nose for no absolute reason. I was born and raised here, but this is something I’ll never tire of: these swooping hills and valleys, infinite skies and bracing breezes. As much as I loved London, I’m glad we’ve traded that life with this simpler one. There is no taxi nor Tube in sight but our kids are somehow a little bouncier and carefree. They’re happy here, and that’s all that matters.

“Ey up,” greets Harry at a group of people walking past us. They are obviously tourists as they have no way to respond and one of them is wearing bog standard Reebok Classics.

We hear the kids squeal in the distance and we both smile at each other. Getting that pup was probably one of our best decisions.

“Do you remember when we first dated?” Asks my husband. “You brought me up here.”

I nod. “I do.”

“The view was decent,” he grins.

“I know you’re not thinking about the view.”

“I was thinking about what happened when we got to the top of the meadow…”

“That was some decent shag,” I chuckle. “Nowadays, I’d worry about getting ticks on my unmentionables.”

We laugh.

I stare over at my husband taking in the view and sipping tea noisily. He always pauses for a moment on any walk to drink it all in. He rustles in his bag and gets a packet of biscuit out, opening the packaging awkwardly and offering it to me.

“Did you know that you’re supposed to call it ‘niece’ and not ‘nice’? Apparently, they’re named after the French town.”

“That’s proper pub quiz trivia knowledge right there, Styles,” I tease.

We stay up here for a little while, but since it’ll get dark soon, we start our walk back to the car. The one thing you forget about taking kids up mountains (small hills) is that for all that experience of green space and fresh air, eventually, you will have to bring them down. Despite having an entire packet of biscuit (with a whole lot of why did you bring this one? This is rubbish. You could’ve brought hobnobs), we failed to remember to pack enough snacks and a fine drizzle is now scratching at our faces. It takes George much persuading to keep walking and by the time we return to the car, the sun is dipping behind the clouds and the twilight sits in the air.

Harry decided it was fine to park in a deserted car park in the middle of nowhere to escape the throngs of regular walkers and tourists but strangely enough, when we get back there, we are one of six parked up.

“Come on, mate. Literally, just to the car. Like twenty more steps,” Harry begs our son to keep on walking.

“You lied!” He complains. “You said that twenty steps ago.”

“I’ve got Haribo in the car.”

He progresses to a light canter.

“Where did all these cars come from?” Harry asks as he approaches our motor cautiously.

“Maybe you’re not the only smart one here and people are following your lead.”

A car flashes us.

I look around at all the cars. People are sat in them. What are they waiting for? You see this sometimes when waiting for the rain to pass or when people decide to eat their lunch in the car.

Suddenly, I hear a car door open and a gentleman approaches us. His footsteps are low.

I know him. It’s Patrick. He’s our postman, so, yes, we have our very own Postman Pat. It was the first thing that tickled Harry when he found out years ago. And even better, the joke is not lost on Pat. His wife even got him a stuffed black and white cat for his cherry-red van window. I smile at recognising him, as do all of the occupants in our car.

“Emma, Harry, kids. Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”

“We’ve got a new dog and we were just taking him for a walk,” I inform him.

“Oh, lovely. What’s his name?”

“Gary,” the kids say in unison.

“Have you got a dog, Pat?” George asks him.

“No, my wife’s a cat lady. But funny you should mention dogs. This place here, people like to come here for that reason.”

“Gary seemed to like it,” pipes in Harry. “I think it’ll be his favourite.”

“That it is. People come here all the time for walking and with their dogs and other such endeavours.” His face looks slightly ashen at this point, his eyes darting towards the other cars. “And the other sense of the word… I just thought I would mention it as you have the littl’uns and it’s getting darker. I think someone just flashed his lights to warn you.”

Harry and I realise what he means exactly at the same time. “OH!” we say at the same gobsmacked volume.

“Dogg…ing…” Harry mumbles. “We should-”

“Leave, like definitely leave, like now,” I say finishing his sentence.

The kids appear confused. I look around and shield my eyes. I should shield the children’s eyes. Pat’s wife waves from the passenger seat.

“Give our regards to June,” I say.

“Will do.”

He salutes us and returns to his car. The kids have all the questions. “People come here to look at dogs?” George asks. “Where are the dogs?”

“Get. In. The. Car.” Harry mouths very deliberately.

I slink into the passenger seat. Our eyes dart in different directions trying to divert focus from any of the cars ahead. We’ll be good if Harry doesn’t drive us off a cliff face. He turns on the wipers, the engine roars to a start and he pulls away slowly.

“We could have stayed and seen the dogs,” says George, a little despondently. “Gary would’ve loved to see his mates. Wouldn’t you, Gary?”

I throw a packet of Haribo at him. Harry and I are silent. We’ve just strolled our children and our very young dog into an outdoor sex hotspot. We are terrible parents.

“Who fancies chips?” Harry says as he changes gear. He finds our littles in the rear-view mirror and studies their faces. “There’s a decent chippy down road.”

There’s a chorus of approval from the back seat. My husband smiles. He then moves his hand over from the gearstick to find mine, fingers interlocked, the sky glowing a thousand different colours.

***

“Are you calling my turkey dry?”

I look over at my older sister Suze in the corner of our family kitchen wondering where on earth she had the courage to come out with a comment like that. Even her husband stops washing up to absorb what his wife just said to our mother. I mean, you think it, but you just douse it in gravy and make do. Such is the joy of white chalky meat like turkey. Why do this now? Now she’ll harp on about the bacon she puts on the breasts and all the goose fat. But it’s Suze. She likes the challenge. I secretly think the only way she believes she can have a relationship with our mother is to spar with her regularly so they at least have one line of communication.

“It was a lovely dinner, Mum. Did you make the mince pies?” Suze winks at me.

I shake my head at her and bring the plate of mince pies through to the living room. Amidst my mother’s wreaths and tinsel wrapped around the lampshades, it’s a familiar tableau: Pop, my grandfather, asleep in the armchair in the corner, a holy green paper hat covering his eyes. Small children crawl on the floor and make angel shapes with their bodies amidst remnants of old glittery wrapping paper. I hope Mum’s made a trifle. My other sister Meg and her husband snooze on a neighbouring sofa, catching on much needed sleep since they just had a baby four months ago and I still remember four months sleep regression is hell. I like this part of Christmas where bits of old crackers litter the floor and twilight takes over.

I take a mince pie and escape to the last vacant spot on the sofa. George rests his head on my knees. “What are you eating, mummy?” I look down at his bright green eyes and wonder how he can still be hungry as he must be ninety per cent roast potato at this point.

“A mince pie.”

“With cow mince?”

“No, like fruity bits,” I pick out said fruity bits and drop them into his mouth like a baby bird. He pulls a face, tasting it, and then walks away.

Harry smiles at me from the bottom of the Christmas tree. He’s laying down on the floor with one of my nieces. He’s always been great with kids, long even before we have our own. My niece has her palm out, and Harry runs circles in it as he sings, “round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…”

She smiles and laughs, poising her fingers, ready to bounce.

“One step, two-step, tickle me under there,” he pretends to collapse into giggles and my niece’s little face broadens into laughter before she rolls over and walks away to play with her cousins.

Finishing my last bite of the tiny pie, I roll under the tree to join my husband. He looks at me as I cosy up next to him, the lights reflect off his eyes.

My mother likes a real tree for Christmas. It’s the smell, you can’t beat the smell. I like to think you can get that real pine smell from a good supermarket brand toilet cleaner but I don’t say that out loud for fear of incurring her festive wrath. And so there’s always a real tree and like we endured when my siblings and I were teens, there’s still a daily rota of vacuuming up the needles as we watch that bastard go crusty and brown as it’s shoved up against the radiator.

We lay there in silence, looking up at the branches and my mother’s multicoloured lights twinkling in some erratic fashion that my eyes can’t quite handle. I’ve been to raves that were less of an assault on the senses. It’s an overwhelming memory of our childhood, lying in silence wigging out on mum’s trippy disco lights, absorbing the magic of the season.

“You’re drunk aren’t you, tipsy-tits?”

“You were the one who poured double shots of Baileys in our coffees this morning,” I cackle.

“That’s called Christmas milk.”

“What are you doing here?” Minnie asks, her head nestling into my shoulder. I rake pine needles from her head.

“Nothing…” Harry replies. “Where’s yer brother?”

“Here,” George suddenly appears, rolling under the tree next to his dad to join us.

“Looks like the awesome foursome is back, huh?” Harry grins.

Minnie and George hum in agreement. I can see my babies smiling.

It’s time.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

I take a deep breath. “Will you come back home with us?”

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honeypiehotchner · 5 years ago

Text

delicate -- Hotch x Reader one-shot

Here’s that one-shot I’ve been holding for a while! Named her delicate after Taylor Swift’s song, purely because of the whole “dive bar on the east side/where you at?” imagery. I listened to the Spotify Singles (acoustic) version of the song while writing this, if you wanna listen while you read! Enjoy!! xx.

Summary: Hotch doesn’t go to bars very often. Until he meets you at one.

Warnings: age gap (reader is somewhere around 24-25), mentioning of being safe at a bar (so alluding to date rape drugs), harassment from one drunk dickhead

Hotch Masterlist

Hotch doesn’t go to bars.

When he’s not on a case, working on paperwork for a case, or caring for his son, he’s normally asleep.

Not at a bar.

But some nights, the memories are too much. Some nights, the cases take a toll on him — especially the children that never made it back home to their parents.

He doesn’t know why he’s in a bar. The only time he comes is when the team goes out and wants to drag him with. It’s normally Dave who manages to get him to agree to a beer or two.

But Aaron is alone this time.

You, on the other hand, know exactly why you’re in a bar.

You’re bored, you’ve just finished your masters degree, you need a drink and some time to yourself to people-watch.

It’s fun, really. Observing people while they’re drunk. You usually have one drink and switch over to water, wanting to remember the things you see while also staying safe.

But occasionally— or, well, more than occasionally by the sheer unfortunate fact of you being a woman alone in a bar, you get the typical man sliding into the seat next to you before he’s even all the way through his rehearsed, “Is this seat taken?”

You never answer. There is no point in trying because their ass already hits the chair before you can say, “Yes, it’s taken, by my foot, now move before I kick it up your ass.”

You never say that, not often. Sometimes the guys can be pretty big assholes, but the bartender, Vanessa, knows you well, so she usually threatens security before you get yourself in trouble.

Unfortunately, tonight looks like it’s going to be one of those nights.

The bar is packed for a reason you aren’t privy too until you see (and hear) the random band start a new song. Great. Performance.

Still, you snag the last seat at the bar, waving to the bartender when she sees you. You barely get the seat warm before she’s sliding your usual in front of you.

“It’s on the house tonight,” she yells.

“What?” You shake your head. “No the fuck it’s not.”

She leans closer so she doesn’t have to yell as loud. “You are my saving grace in this sea of assholes, so yes it is. We can fight about it later.”

“Fine,” you roll your eyes. You dip your hands underneath the bar to switch your diamond ring from your right to left hand.

Tonight, you’re married.

You got this ring when your last relationship ended so badly. It was a long time coming, and once you were finally able to see the other side, you went out and bought yourself an engagement ring. Just for you. A promise to yourself to start loving yourself harder, and going out with dickheads less.

So far, it’s been wonderful. You’re loving being alone. It was exhausting going on so many first dates, trying to love someone else instead of letting yourself heal.

It’s been two years of singleness for you now, and you’ve loved almost every day.

The “wedding” ring usually makes most of the guys turn the other way. A few that are oblivious will try talking to you, but once they glance at your hand, they excuse themselves.

It’s hysterical, if you’re honest.

But some, unfortunately, don’t give a damn.

Like the guy who has just squeezed his way into the seat next to you.

You roll your eyes and prepare yourself for the shallow conversations because, for some ungodly reason, the band decided now was a good time for a break.

“You come here often?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Nope.”

“It’s a pretty good place,” the guy says, waving down the other bartender, his name is Nick. “You should come here more often.”

“Should I, now?”

“Yeah,” the guy grins. “You’ll see me.”

You roll your eyes so hard it nearly hurts.

“Wanna dance?”

“Not in the mood.”

“Can I buy you another drink?”

“No thanks.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Why, do you work here?”

“Look, I’m just trying to be nice.” Ah, there it is. The “nice guy” line.

You turn your head, raising an eyebrow. “Good for you. I’m not interested.”

“Ooh,” he feigns hurt, holding an open hand to his chest. “Ouch.”

You shrug. “You’ll get over it.”

“Damn.”

“Mm.”

“You sure you don’t wanna dance?”

“I’m married,” you say easily, picking your glass up with your left hand to show off your ring. You don’t drink from your glass because you made the mistake of looking away for only a moment, so now you’re paranoid that he might’ve slipped something in it.

The guy looks around, then back to you. “I don’t see a husband.” Oh, he sounds so smug. Like he’s pulled one over on you. Moron.

“He’s on a work trip.”

“Well, he’s not here.”

“You don’t want to get on his bad side, dude.”

“Oh really? What’s he do for a living?”

“He works for the FBI.” The lie slips from your mouth before you can stop it, and you almost laugh.

It’s something you’ve pulled from the countless guys that have said they work for the FBI, but have no badge to show for it. It’s always cracked you up. You’re aware there’s an FBI office around here, but you doubt a greasy, blackout drunk works for them. Let alone more than five greasy, blackout drunks in one night.

“The FBI, huh?” The guy says, just taking it in stride. “What’s his name?”

Right as you’re about to make one up until Vanessa can get back over here to threaten security, two arms slip around your waist.

You’re ready to throw caution to the wind along with your fists, but the owner of the arms says, “Just go with it, I’m Aaron.”

You turn your head to see a very handsome older man peering down at you, a smile on his lips that you can’t help but mirror. Something about his face has your gut screaming that you can trust him, so you play along.

“Honey! I thought you were in Texas!” You throw your arms around his neck for good measure, and also for a moment to casually get a good whiff of his cologne. Goddamn. You’ll gladly be his fake-wife. Any day. Forever.

“I was,” Aaron says, squeezing you before letting you go. He moves to stand next to you, his arm around your waist in a protective manner. “We landed early, wanted to surprise you.” He kisses your knuckles to keep up the act, and then settles his eyes on the man who was bothering you.

“You must be the husband,” the guy mutters bitterly. “You really work for the FBI?”

Oh, fuck, you think. This guy just doesn’t give up. A few future scenarios flash before your eyes, but the one most alarming is a fight erupting, which isn’t all that far-fetched. You’d never be able to come back if you caused something like that.

But before you can stumble through some excuse, Aaron is pulling out a badge. An actual badge.

“Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner. I’m the unit chief of the BAU,” he says easily, holding his badge out for as long as it takes the guy to inspect it. You have no clue what BAU stands for, but you’re just thanking whatever Gods might be real that this is happening.

The idiot is scowling by the time Aaron puts his badge away. He leaves without a word.

Your jaw nearly drops as you watch the guy go, and literally leave the bar. You had hopes that he’d leave you alone, but leaving the bar entirely is even better.

Aaron’s arm slips from around your waist as he moves to take the now empty seat next to you. All the while you’re gawking at him like you’re in some fever dream.

When he catches your eyes, he says, “What?”

“Am I dreaming?” You blurt. “Do you really work for the FBI?”

He chuckles and pulls out his badge again, holding it out to you where you can read it. And sure as shit, he’s an actual FBI agent. What the fuck.

You look up as he pulls his badge away. “Did you hear me tell the guy my husband worked for the FBI?”

Aaron shakes his head. “That was pure luck. By the way,” he holds his hand out to you. “I’m Aaron.”

“Y/N,” you shake his hand, smiling at the fact that Aaron wanted to go through the official pleasantries and that you got to feel how soft his hand is again. “Thank you for that. I thought he’d never leave.”

“No worries. And it’s best he did, I really didn’t feel like arresting anyone tonight.”

“Arresting him? For what?”

“Well for starters, harassment. But since that usually doesn’t hold up very well, I’d have to say it was for his cocaine addiction.”

Your eyes widen. “He was doing coke?”

“Well, not out in the open, of course, but there were traces of it on his nose and his eyes had that look to them. Addicts are easy to spot when you run into them enough.”

Who the hell is this guy?

“Oh, and forgive me, what’s your husband’s name?” Aaron gestures down at your left hand. “I might know him, but I can’t say that I recognize you.”

“Oh,” you move the ring back to your right hand, much to Aaron’s surprise. “I’m not married. I only put it on the left hand to try to avoid assholes like that.”

“I see,” Aaron nods, and if you’re not mistaken, he almost looks pleased.

Vanessa returns to get Aaron’s drink, and then gives you a look.

You want to scream, yes, I’m well aware he is dangerously attractive and that he’s talking to me but don’t you dare say a word to embarrass me.

Instead, you say, “Can you make me another?”

She nods in understanding and pours out your drink, setting off to make a second after sliding Aaron his beer.

“So,” you turn your body and prop your head in your palm. “What’s got an FBI agent in a bar on a Tuesday night?”

He takes a long swig of his beer before answering. “What’s the real story behind that ring on your hand?”

“Answer for an answer,” you sing, smiling at Vanessa when she brings you your drink. She leaves without a word, raising her eyebrows at you.

“The cases can be rough,” Aaron says vaguely, bringing your attention back to him. “You?”

“Got it as a promise to myself to never date another prick ever again,” you chuckle, gazing down at the ring. “It’s worked its magic, so far.”

“So far?”

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

He smiles through his next swig of beer.

+++

It becomes a routine, you and Aaron sharing a drink at the bar.

To your surprise, he has the same views as you about alcohol. It’s fun to have one drink, but getting wasted and blacking out isn’t.

It’s refreshing, if you’re honest. Everyone your age wants to get absolutely shitfaced every time they go out, and that’s just never been for you.

It helps that Aaron is older. Well— You’re not sure if it helps or not. Because he is significantly older, the farthest you two have gone is sharing a drink at the bar. He usually leaves first, needing to get home to his son, to do more case work, or there was one time when he actually got a call about a case mid-drink. He was gone for two weeks after that.

But he always comes back, and he always finds you here, at this bar.

You mostly come every night to keep Vanessa company for an hour or two. To give yourself a break from the chaos of reality and to give her a familiar face in the sea of drunken customers.

Every night that Aaron isn’t here, Vanessa asks you where he is. Like you would know (you only do if he tells you of a possible up and coming case). Like you have his number (you don’t). Like you care (you don’t want to admit that you do).

“No Daddy tonight?” Vanessa teases, sliding you your drink.

“If you don’t stop calling him Daddy, I swear to God.”

“Oh, don’t swear to Him. He doesn’t need to get involved.”

You send a glare her way, but you’re holding back a laugh.

“Is he still on a case?” She asks, trying to be serious again.

You shrug. “Who knows. They can last pretty long. He was gone two weeks for the last one.”

“Keeping track, are we?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, you two are killing me here, sharing drinks and not saying how you feel. It’s torture to watch you every week, you know.”

“He’s like...twenty years older than me. Or something.”

“And?” She scoffs. “Age is but a number. You’re an adult. He’s an adult. It’s fine.”

You shrug. “He probably just sees me as a friend. He would’ve given me his number or something by now, right?”

“I dunno, men are weird. But he’s older, he’s probably scared to make a move, scared he’ll make you uncomfortable.”

You shrug again. You appreciate her trying to show you the possibilities, the logical reasons for why the two of you haven’t gone any further from the bar, but you aren’t sure what to believe. Plus, it’s been a week since you’ve seen him. The last time you two shared a drink, he didn’t say anything about a case.

So, he’s either on a case again, or has stopped coming.

The latter thought has you debating getting shitfaced wasted for the first time in years. Being blackout drunk would probably hurt you less than if it’s true that he’s just suddenly ditched you.

But what stops you is when Vanessa runs back over, eyes wide. “Just spotted your hottie.”

Oh, now he’s my hottie? “What?” You inwardly scold yourself for sounding a little too giddy at the prospect of him being here.

But if he’s here, why isn’t he sitting next to you?

Vanessa answers that one for you. “At a table in the back. He’s with friends I think.”

Friends? Never mind then on sharing a drink with him. “Oh, cool.”

Vanessa looks like she wants to say something, but is called away to another customer.

You don’t want to butt in with Aaron’s time with friends, so you stay at the bar, facing forward, nursing your one drink. Your mind conjures a plan in two seconds flat: finish your drink, head out for the night and discreetly look in Aaron’s direction, hopefully catch his eye, but if not, just go home and...shower and go to sleep.

Because if he wants to see you, he will. If he doesn’t, then he won’t.

Good plan.

Or at least, it is, until Aaron is sliding up beside you.

Your heart launches itself into your throat. You don’t say anything because you have no idea what to say. You were too busy assuming he’d rather be with his friends (which is...fine because it’s not like the two of you are...dating) to notice him walking up.

He says something for you, though. “Hey.”

Well, he might as well have stayed silent. What are you supposed to do with that?

“Hey,” you return casually, then offer a small smile. “Thought you’d be gone longer.” You operate on the assumption that he was on a case.

And he was. “This one actually worked in our favor.” He leans his elbows onto the bar, and naturally your eyes follow the movement. He’s not in a stuffy suit like the last few times, but he’s still in a dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Arms. You’re a complete sucker for arms, and he’s practically teasing you like this.

“That’s good,” you comment, taking a sip from your drink. “Here to celebrate?”

“Yeah, we are.”

Nick brings Aaron his beer, thankfully, because you know Vanessa would’ve made some not-so-vague comment about Aaron being up here -- and maybe let an “accidental” Daddy comment slip.

To your surprise, Aaron sits down.

Your eyebrows furrow. “I thought you’re here with friends?”

Aaron looks over his shoulder and shrugs. “Just my team, yeah. I imagine they’re tired of me, though.”

You doubt that’s the case, but you know that if you say that, he’ll just brush it off.

“Not even gonna introduce me?” You tease instead, but you honestly want to smack yourself. You need to get a better hold on your word vomit. Inviting yourself is insanely rude.

Aaron’s eyebrows raise slightly, clearly not expecting you to say that — or to even want to be introduced to his team. “They’re a lot,” he says. “They’ll make a big deal out of this.”

“This?” You question, gesturing shortly between the two of you. “What is this?”

“What do you want it to be?” He asks carefully, averting his eyes shyly.

“Well,” you exhale dramatically, swirling your drink. “I think when you’ve shared a drink with a woman more than...twenty times, it should at least be considered dating.” You cut your eyes in his direction, your chest swelling as you see a grin breaking out on his face.

“I think I’m a bad date,” he says, confusing you. He chuckles, adding, “You don’t even have my number!”

“I’ll get it at the end of tonight,” you say, touching his arm gently for reassurance. “Come on, I think the back of my head is burning from how hard they’re staring.”

He looks through the corner of his eyes and sighs. “I’m sorry in advance for them.”

“No need to apologize,” you shrug. “Friends can be the worst. Vanessa has already started asking questions about you.” You nod toward the bartender that is feigning interest in clearing a space behind the bar.

“I figured,” Aaron murmurs. “Okay.” He slides off the stool, grabbing his beer in one hand, and holding his other one out to you.

Your heart jumps harshly when you take his hand. It’s warm and soft and secure, everything you want and need. You grab your drink in your free hand, giving Aaron’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

As soon as you and Aaron approach the table, the older gentleman is punching the one with tattoos. “Pay up.”

Aaron witnesses the cash exchange and stares at them tiredly. “Seriously, guys?”

Meanwhile, you’re holding back a giggle.

“Well, hello,” the woman with the colorful fashion sense says. “Introduce us!”

Aaron looks ready to pretend like he doesn’t know any of them, so you step up and say, “He told me you guys would be like this.”

That gets him laughing, and he finally says, “Y/N, this is Penelope, Emily, JJ, Spencer, Derek, and Dave.” Each person nods, waves, or smiles when their name is called.

“I’ll try to remember,” you joke. “But no promises.”

You squeeze Aaron’s hand in yours, trying to get him to loosen up. He does, barely, so when he tugs on your hand, silently asking you to step closer to him so his arm can fit around your waist, you oblige.

“What was the bet about?” You ask, nodding toward the men who exchanged cash a bit ago. It was Dave and Derek if you’re remembering names correctly.

“Rossi thought Hotch was going to bring you back over here, but I didn’t agree,” Derek says, nudging Dave’s arm. “I didn’t think you’d go for him.”

“Well, that’d be embarrassing if I went for someone else, considering we’re dating,” you chuckle, leaning your head back to look up at Aaron.

“Dating? So it’s official?” Emily asks, looking a little more excited than you thought any of them would.

“I think it was official the first time we met,” you snicker. “He pretended to be my husband so some dickhead would leave me alone.”

Aaron’s arm tightens around your waist at the memory.

“Okay,” Penelope grabs her drink, then moves over next to you, linking your arm with hers. “Hotch, we’re stealing her. We need details.”

Aaron doesn’t look like he wants to let go at all, but you press a kiss to his cheek. “Told you it’d be fine,” you whisper to him.

He surprises you by pressing a kiss on your lips. Midway through, your brain reminds you that this is technically your first kiss with him. And it’s in front of his friends. Swoon.

After so many dates with guys who were ashamed to be showing any sort of affection toward a woman, it’s nice to find a man who doesn’t care who sees his affection.

What can you say? After dating so many boys, it’s nice to finally find a man.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #hotch x reader #hotch x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch fluff #fluff #cm #delicate songfic #because i can't NOT think of taylor swift when i write

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 4 years ago

Text

Live Stream Murderer (Part 1) | Spencer Reid x reader

Requested by @thatsonezesty13 / Summary: You’re kidnapped by the Live Stream Murderer, who is in search of his soulmate. He tortures the women for 36 hours and whoever lasts that long is in his eyes; his soulmate. Will you make it through the 36 hours of torture?

A/N: Tumblr won’t let me tag you, but I’m sorry for the long wait! I decided to put this into 2 or 3 parts, hope you don’t mind. I hope you enjoy!! xx

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

You and the team exited the SUV and headed into the hotel. It had been a long and exhausting day for all of you. The day had brought you no closer to finding the unsub. The city sheriff had called the BAU in for help in solving who was behind the live stream murders. So far that hadn’t been another victim since the BAU arrived, but you all figured a victim would be found soon considering he only keeps the women for 36 hours.

You all had nicknamed the unsub, “The Live Stream Murderer.” So far, the only leads you have been what he’d left behind; the videos of the kills. He would torture the women for 36 hours and so far, all of them had died in the end and been dumped. What the BAU hadn’t found out was why this guy was doing this. There were no clues in the videos in why, even Penelope was at a loss.

“Shit.” You muttered as you searched your purse. Did you leave your phone back at the station?

“What’s up?” Spencer had stopped to face you, the rest of the team heading inside.

“My phone.” You groaned, “it’s not in here. I must have left it at the station..”

“Maybe you left it in the car?” Spencer suggests.

“Maybe..” You sigh and glance back at the SUV parked at the corner, “I’ll go check.”

“I’ll go with you.” He kindly offers, “It’s late.”

You waved him off, “No it’s fine. It’ll only take a minute. I’ll be up in a second. Just let JJ know.”

He’s hesitant to leave you, “Okay.. just be careful.” He takes one more glance at the SUV and surrounding areas for any signs of danger. There wasn’t anyone around. He waited at the door to make sure you got to the vehicle safely and then proceeded toward the elevators where the rest of the BAU was waiting.

“Where’s y/l/n?” Rossi asks.

“She couldn’t find her phone, so she went back to the SUV to check.”

Everyone nodded, too tired to even think of what kinds of dangers could be lurking for you around the corner.

“damn it.” You huff in anger at no sign of the phone. “Where the hell..” You bent over to investigate under the passenger seat and spotted the phone. “There you are.” You mutter grabbing it.

He watched from the corner. Your back was to him and you were preoccupied with searching the vehicle to even notice as he approached. He’d seen you on the news this morning and his heart yearned for you. All the other women he’d chosen hadn’t been worthy. They weren’t strong enough to withstand life, withstand the torture and pain he provided. But you, you had potential. He just knew as a BAU agent you were strong. Maybe strong enough to be his soulmate.

His wife had died in a car accident. She’d been the love of his life, but she hadn’t been strong enough to endure the pain. He needed someone to be able to endure the pain so that he wouldn’t have to go through that loss again and you were a potential match.

You’d seen his reflection in the window when you’d shut the door, but it’d been too late; your reflexes were slow and exhausted. He’d grabbed the back of your head and slammed it into the window, leaving a crack the side of your head. You were knocked out instantly.

Spencer’s fingers tapped against his chest as he laid in bed. He wondered if you’d made it back to you and JJ’s room yet.

“Reid.. go to sleep.” Morgan grumbled from the other bed. He was sharing a room with Morgan, which was the usual, “Your finger tapping and foot shaking is distracting.”

“You think she made it back to her room?” Spencer voices his concern, glancing at Morgan.

“I’m sure she’s fine and sleeping peacefully. Like you should be doing.” He groans, turning over.

Spencer sighed before staring up at the ceiling again. He was right. They’d had a long day and sleep was needed right now if they wanted to be sharp and finally catch the Live Stream Murderer. He turned over and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t help the feeling that something was wrong.

The next morning when everyone was to meet in the lobby for breakfast, JJ was already there, but you weren’t.

“Where’s y/n?”

JJ stirred her coffee, “Thought she got up early this morning before I did. She may be in the gym or something.” JJ wasn’t bothered by it. You were usually up before her and she knew you could take care of yourself.

“I’ll go check.” Spencer heads that way but when he arrives at the gym, it’s empty. Don’t panic, Spencer. I’m sure she’s fine. He says to himself.

He hated to think the worst but ever since Maeve, he can’t help it. It had been a method of protecting himself to think the worst first, so he’d be prepared if had come to it. You’d been his saving grace and pulled him from a dark place after it happened. He told himself he wouldn’t pass up another opportunity to tell you how he really feels, but he never found the time right.

“Find her?” Hotch asks, glancing at his watch, “It’s time to go.”

“Gym was empty.”

“Maybe she got an early start at the station?” Rossi offers as they head toward the door.

Spencer pulls his phone out of his bag and dials your number as you all walk toward the SUV. Your cellphone rang nearby.

“I hear her-” Spencer started to say, but he’d stopped and seen what the team did.

There were your belongings on the ground beside the SUV and blood between the cracks in the window, but you were nowhere to be found.

The team had split up to look around the corners and in between buildings but there was no sign of you at all. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her out here alone.” Spencer points to the SUV, “I made sure she made it to the car safe and then I just left. I left her.”

“Kid, you can’t blame yourself for this.” Morgan tries to reason, “It’s not going to help us find her.”

Hotch’s phone rings, “Penelope.” He announces to the team before answering and putting her on speaker, “Hello?”

“t-the live stream! Y/n. She’s on the live stream. It’s everywhere!” Penelope quickly spits out. The team hadn’t had the chance to tell Penelope the news so imagine the shock it gave Penelope when she opened her computers at work to find her best friend plastered all over the internet.

Spencer’s already pulling it onto his phone and he almost wants to vomit at the sight. You were tied to a chair and screaming in pain as a man in a black hood pressed a hot poker into your leg.

“You son of a bitch!” You spit out to him, “I’ll kill you! I swear it!”

There was a small pile of blood under your chair and he could see the knife in the side of your leg, positioned to make sure there wasn’t any major arteries hit.

“oh god.” Penelope cried over the phone.

Hotch, the one who usually was strong and never let anything bother him actually pulled his eyes away from the phone and clinched his eyes shut. To see a member of his team in that kind of position, that kind of torture made him want to vomit. “Garcia, pinpoint the live stream.”

“Y-yes sir.. I’ve been trying all morning but it’s bouncing off everywhere that there isn’t even a small area I can pinpoint it too.”

According to the timer at the bottom of the screen the live stream had been going on for 8 hours. Which meant there was only 28 hours to find you. He just hoped you were strong enough to last through the torture that long.

“We have to find her.” Spencer chokes out, looking up at the team, who wear the same face of disgust and fear for their team member. “I can’t lose someone else.”

Criminal Minds tag list: @thelovelydreamer17 , @la-vie-en-amour1 , @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 , @astra-inclinant-sed-non-obligant (possibly: @astra-x-inclinant) , @bluerose512 , @lolychu , @varsityalthete , @tylers-missing-car-radio

*if your name is crossed out, tumblr is being stupid and won’t let me tag you.

All my works tag list: @blossomreed , @mggstyles , @simonsbluee , @thewolf-and-thesheep , @obxrafejjwhore , @abbiesthings , @itstaskeen , @reniescarlett

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softyoongiionly · 5 years ago

Text

xx(x)ii

Jungkook is an amazing lover.

He’s always so gentle, so restrained...so attentive.

But, you find yourself wondering if he wants you as much as you want him.

Tonight, he decides to address your curiosity.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: smut, swearing, JUNGKOOK!!! (can he leave my brain alone plz? Like deadass I miss Yoongi.)

A/N: Hi, I’m back with another episode of JEON JUNGKOOK CAN NOT AND WILL NOT LET ME LIVE SO, HERE IS ANOTHER PIECE OF FILTH. anywaysss I love you, if you liked it, please let me know :D

Happy Valentines Day >:)

Here’s the thing.

Sex with Jungkook is top notch.

It’s good shit.

Crème de la crème.

Jungkook is probably the sweetest boyfriend in the observable universe.

He’s so attentive and, considerate both in and out of the bedroom.

He kisses you like you’re the only person in the world.

Like you’re the only person in the universe…

Sex often happens organically but, there are times when the two of you have to plan a night alone together due to your busy schedules.

And listen!

Sex with Jungkook is amazing, as you’ve mentioned but, you do have lingering concerns at the back of your mind.

#1 Jungkook always lets you cum first. You have a sneaking suspicion that the he might be a robot because, he can literally hold off his orgasm forever. Which is fine! But, there are nights when you want to watch him fall apart and enjoy himself but, it always seems like he’s holding back for your benefit.

#2 He never talks about sex. It’s like the two of you will go at it and, it will be great but, afterwards it’s as if it never even happened. He holds you close to him afterwards and, presses little kisses to your forehead. Which is wonderful! But, sometimes you wish you felt a little sexier… sometimes you don’t feel like you turn him on in every day life.

But, that could be your insecurities talking…

#3 Jungkook’s made you cum so hard, you literally cried. Like actual tears. You still think about that night sometimes…

Or all the time.

Jungkook had planned a surprise party for you for your birthday and, after everyone had left (or passed out in the living room) Jungkook took you into the bedroom and, ate you out until you were (literally) crying. But you don’t think you’ve ever given him that kind of pleasure before. He always finishes when he’s with you so, it must be enjoyable for him but, like you said. He’s so collected about sex, sometimes you wish you were able to make him feel the way he makes you feel.

Needless to say, these concerns have been eating at you for some time and, right now might not be the best time to bring them up due to the fact that the two of you are just chilling in bed together but, you can’t help yourself anymore.

“Babe?” You murmur against his chest, tilting your head to glance up towards him.

His arm is around you as it has been for the last hour or so and, at the sound of your voice he pats your hip, “Hm?”

But he doesn’t look at you; his eyes are trained on the television screen.

“Can I ask you something?”

Immediately, he grabs the remote from the nightstand and pauses the movie, “Yeah of course. Is everything ok?”

Your teeth find the inside of your lower lip, nibbling on it nervously, “Yeah yeah, it’s kind of silly honestly but, it’s been on my mind for a little bit and um-“

Jungkook’s brow furrows with concern, “You can ask me whatever you want, are you sure you’re ok though?”

You sit up then, “Yeah I’m ok, I just-“ Cutting yourself off again, you start to wish you would have waited to bring this up a different time but, you couldn’t wait any longer, “Is there anything I don’t know about you?”

He tilts his head, thinking for a moment “I don’t know think so? I mean, there might be a few things but, they aren’t important enough to think of right now. Why?”

His tone is gentle but, you can sense the confusion.

You aren’t asking him what you really want to ask him…

“Ok, I’m just gonna ask you because, I don’t know how else to say it but, please don’t judge me, I’m just curious-“ You blurt out and, it’s so abrupt that Jungkook can’t help but, chuckle.

He takes your hands in his, smoothing his thumbs over his knuckles, “Jagi it’s me. You can ask me anything you want; you don’t need to be nervous…”

His touch soothes your nerves a little bit but, the hammering beat of your heart is getting worse.

“Do you have any kinks?”

Jungkook feels his own heart stall in his chest at your question.

This is definitely not what he was expecting but, he isn’t put off by it.

“Kinks?” He checks and, as you nod rapidly in response, he smirks fondly.

“Yeah like things that turn you on or whatever. Things I don’t know about…”

Jungkook’s smirk still lingers on his lips but, his cheeks rosy at your question.

“I don’t think there is anything you don’t know.” He begins, wracking his brain for a more specific answer, “By kinks you mean like weird stuff or just things that turn me on in general?”

You have to admit, Jungkook is surprising you a little bit.

You didn’t think he’d be so open to talking about this right off the bat but, you’re going to roll with it anyway.

A giggle passes by your lips at his word choice and, he grins at the sound; he really likes when you laugh.

“I guess both? I don’t really feel like I know what you like and, sometimes…” You hesitate again, licking your lips, “I don’t know, I just wanna make you feel good...”

Jungkook feels a flutter within his chest. Suddenly the movie the two of you were just watching doesn’t seem so interesting…

“You always make me feel good.” He states immediately, tilting his head again to try and catch your eyes with his own, grinning whilst he does, “Seriously, you know that right?”

No.

You don’t know that.

But, you don’t want the conversation to turn into him consoling you.

You’re on a mission.

“Yeah I do…” You scoot closer to him so, your knees are touching, your hands still intertwined with his, “I’m just curious.”

He isn’t completely convinced but, he moves on, focusing on your question instead, “I like when we have sex in the morning, it’s really slow and lazy almost. I usually cum faster in the morning. I don’t know why,” His dark eyes flit to you, scanning over your face, “I like you a lot in the morning actually. You’re so soft and warm and, you hold me tighter. I don’t know, it’s really hot.”

Jungkook is getting slightly worked up but, he does his best to hide it. He isn’t sure if having sex is a part of this conversation but, he doesn’t want to assume.

“I didn’t know that,” You begin, your voice a tad smaller than before, “I like morning sex too. Especially when we don’t have to be anywhere. What else?”

Jungkook smirks but, he continues thinking, trying to pin point specific things, “I really like your lace underwear but, I have thing for those plain black ones, like the ones that look like little shorts?” He ventures, his eyes subconsciously flitting to your thighs, wondering if you have them on right now.

“Boy shorts?” You offer, biting your lip when you notice his wandering gaze.

He nods, bringing his eyes back to yours, “Yeah. They’re really cute, I like when you wear those with one of your t-shirts-“ He bites his lip, “I like when you leave them on too, when I touch you. Or when I’m inside of you…”

It’s a little ridiculous how easily Jungkook turns you on. You really want this conversation to be extensive but, your body is trying to make other plans.

“I’m wearing them right now.” You point out, smirking slightly and, Jungkook raises his brows, his eyes flitting to your hips again.

“Do you really need your pants on right now then? It’s kind of warm in here…” He suggests cheekily, his hands moving towards your hips.

“Wait-“ You giggle, placing your hands on top of his, “I’ll take them off but, I want to know more…”

Jungkook grins, “I’ll tell you more then.”

You eye him suspiciously, ensuring that he’s going to behave before hitching your fingers under the waistband of your pants and, tugging them off.

Jungkook kisses his teeth, nodding in approval, “Yeah, those are definitely the ones-“ Dragging his eyes away from your underwear, he leans back against the pillows and, pats his lap, “Come here.”

His voice is so deep right now, it sounds like he’s just woken up.

He smirks at you fondly, pushing away some of the loose strands of his black hair.

“You said you’d tell me more.” You point out teasingly.

Jungkook chuckles, nodding in agreement, “I will. Just come sit on my lap first.”

You don’t want to resist him.

His lap looks so inviting.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt and, basketball shorts and, his freshly washed hair is a disheveled mess but, he looks so good.

“Promise?”

He chuckles again, his hands finding your hips, “Promise.”

You pretend to huff with hesitation but, you’re obviously bluffing, “Fine.”

Jungkook tugs you into his lap, his hands immediately smoothing up your outer thighs before squeezing at your hips, “Much better.” He glances up at you through his lashes, “To continue on with your question. This is another thing that turns me on.”

Your skin comes alive beneath his touch, your hands taking purchase atop his shoulders, “When I sit in your lap?”

He shakes his head at first, “No- well yeah but, I’m taking about these…” He squeezes your hips again, “I know they aren’t your favorite thing but, they’re definitely one of mine. I think about marking them up sometimes but, I don’t know if that’s taking it too far.” He chuckles and, for the first time you sense a bit of nerves within his tone.

“Is that another kink then? Marking me?” You use the growing confidence inside of you to continue your quest for knowledge.

“I think just marking in general. My neck is really sensitive so, when you kiss me there or bite me, you know…it feels really good.” A breathless laugh leaves his lips, his eyes lingering on your lips for a moment, “I’m still a little confused, I feel like you know all this stuff already.”

You knew most of it but, it was mainly through trial and error.

He isn’t wrong though.

You’re not really getting to the point.

You’re not really telling him how you’re feeling.

“I do. I just-“ You glance down, the collar of his t-shirt becoming very interesting, “I don’t feel like- ugh this sounds so dumb but, you’re always so calm during sex and, you always let me finish first and, I feel like I don’t turn you on as much as you turn me on? I’m not upset or anything I was just curious and, I wanted to see if there was something I missed or, if there was something you liked that we hadn’t talked about.”

You’re worried you ruined the mood.

Things had been quite playful until this point and, you don’t want the whole night to turn into Jungkook feeling like he needs to reassure you.

“Babe…” He ventures and, his voice is softer than you expected, “Look at me.” He urges softly, tilting your chin up towards him, “Do you really think you don’t turn me on?”

You feel a little breathless at the bit of intensity in his gaze but, when he chuckles in disbelief, you relax slightly.

“Sometimes. “ You admit and, instantly, he uses his free hand to slowly bring yours to the seam of his shorts.

He isn’t fully hard but, his dick is definitely not flaccid and, just the feeling of him beneath your hand makes your panties grow a little damper.

“Do you feel that? You’ve been turning me on this whole time. You turn me on all the time actually; it’s kind of annoying…” He laughs, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek, “Baby-“ He kisses towards your ear, lowering his voice to a whisper, “You seriously don’t know how sexy I think you are?”

You find yourself melting in his lap, pressing yourself closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “You just make me feel so-“ Your breath catches a bit as he continues placing kisses down the curve of your face, lingering against your jawline, “You just always seem really calm when it comes to sex and, I just didn’t know if was as good for you as it is for me.”

You can feel him smirk against your neck as he tucks his face into it, his lips sucking lightly on the skin there, “You think I don’t like it as much as you hm? You think you don’t ruin me too? With your breathy little voice and, your pretty hips? Do you really think I don’t think about how good it is?”

You’re in for it now, you can tell.

Your boyfriend is a sweet man but, he’s also fiercely competitive and, the way he’s talking to you makes it sound like he’s hell bent on proving your theory wrong.

“I don’t know what you think about.” You murmur honestly, running your fingers through his hair as he continues kissing down your neck.

“I think about you- all the time. I think about your kisses,” He punctuates the next few phrases with a touch of his lips, “your hands, your hips, your neck- How pretty you are when you cum for me, how good you feel.. I think about how well you know me and my body. I think about the way you touch me, you’re doing it right now jagi. You don’t even know.”

His accent peaks through as he grows more sincere and, the desire he begins to feel takes over his senses.

“See?” He asks into your neck, and before you even answer, he’s leading your hand back to his length, which is rock solid now, throbbing beneath your touch, “Do you think anyone else makes me feel this way? I’m so hard right now and, you’ve barely touched me…” He urges, resting his forehead against yours as you squeeze over him, “We all get insecure sometimes and, that’s ok but, jagi…” He breathes, chuckling darkly, “This isn’t something to worry about, I promise.”

“No?” You answer back immediately, relishing in his attention, quickly slipping your hand beneath his shorts. The feeling of his throbbing dick in your grasp is enough to ruin your underwear but, you don’t care.

You just want to make him feel good.

He smirks, his eyes lulling a bit with the pleasure your hand is providing, “Fuck no. You’re like-“ He grunts as you begin stroking up and down his length, “You’re like heaven on earth. “ His eyes squeeze shut for a moment before a rushed request leaves his lips, “Keep doing that…please.”

His head falls back against the pillows, exposing the muscular column of his throat to you. Jungkook’s lips part as a shaky breath escapes. You lean forward in his lap, kissing along the curve of his collar bone as your hand increases it’s speed on his dick.

Jungkook’s eyes close as a small moan leaves his lips, his tongue wetting them immediately after.

“You’re so hot…” You whine in agony, giggling slightly and, this causes him to chuckle, his eyes peeking open whilst his hands begin squeezing at your hips.

“You can’t say shit like that. I just got these shorts and, I don’t want to ruin them.”

Interesting.

You have a hunch but, you decide to press your luck anyway, as you kiss your way up towards his ear, “But you are,” You insist, rubbing your thumb over his leaking tip, “You’re making me wet, just looking at you.”

“Fuck.” He breathes, his chest heaving as he takes a deep breath, “You’re wet for me?”

“Mhm…” You hum, pressing your hips down against him and your hand, “You just look so good.”

His eyes squeeze shut as he attempts to reign in his release, which is approaching far too rapidly.

You don’t give him time to recover though and, instead you nibble on his earlobe before you deliver your next question, “I wanna suck it. Can I? Can I put you in my mouth.”

Jungkook is in agony at the tone of your voice and, although he wants to be between your lips, he knows he won’t be able to last for you if he is.

“I won’t last in your mouth babe and, I want to be inside of you.”

You’re quick to shut him down, “I want your cum in my throat though.” You insist right into his ear, “Please? Can I have it?”

Jungkook digs his fingers into your hips, trying to get ahold of himself, his eyes opening wide, “Jesus- you’re gonna kill me.” He chuckles, turning so his lips find yours. The kiss is messy and uncoordinated, especially because you haven’t stopped your motions on his dick. “You really want to suck my dick that bad hm?”

You giggle in response, nodding, “Just real quick.”

“It’s going to be quick, that’s what I’m worried about.”

“Please?” You whisper this time, kissing against his pillowy lips, “I want to make you feel good.”

Jungkook’s dick twitches in your grip and, you’re starting to think that praise is another hidden kink he has.

“I’m all yours…” He murmurs, kissing you once more, a bit of intensity looming in his eyes. He moves his hands from your hips to tug his t-shirt over his head, revealing the tan expanse of his body to you.

He’s been working out more and, the ridges and planes of his toned muscles are proof of his hard work.

You want to kiss every inch of him.

But, right as you’re about to, he stops you, taking your chin between his fingers and, directing your attention back towards him, “Hey.”

With bated breath, you stare into his eyes, waiting for the rest of his sentence.

“I’m not going to last long but, I need you to know something…” He tightens his grip on you before leaning in and sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, “when you make me cum, cause I know this pretty mouth of yours is going to-“ He nibbles on your bottom lip, lowering his tone, “when you make me cum, you need to know that no one else has ever made me feel the way you do. When I’m saying your name under my breath and, my toes are curling into the sheets,” He bites harder this time, and as you whimper he smirks, “When I’m trying to stay quiet so, Jin hyung doesn’t bust in here and, kick my ass…” The two of you giggle breathlessly at that, kissing one another again, “you need to know that you’re the only one I want. You gotta remember that for me ok? You gotta remember that you’re my girl and, that there is no one else for me.”

You heart is full and, although the sentiment is sexual, it’s also laced with all of the other emotions the two of you feel towards each other.

“I love you.” You smile softly, nudging your nose against his.

Jungkook chuckles, letting his smirk linger on his lips as he releases your chin, “I love you too jagi.”

Your lips are on his length in a matter of seconds, sucking him with everything you have, using your hand to assist you in making him cum.

Jungkook’s stomach his trembling beneath the weight of pleasure crushing his body. He’s arching slightly off the bed, his face tightening as his fingers tuck into your hair, “Fuck- fuck I’m gonna cum.”

He sounds broken up by it, as if he wanted it to last longer but, before you know it, he’s spilling into your lips, his hips jerking with the force of his orgasm. Jungkook bites the back of his hand when he does, moaning into it, just as he said he would, staring down at you in awe as, he gives you everything he has.

You make good on your plans and, swallow it all, a sense of satisfaction washing over you.

With a few kisses pressed to his hips, Jungkook is ready to have you in his arms again.

He kisses you as soon as you clamber on top of him, showing no signs of slowing down.

You’re back in your original spot, except this time, your boyfriend is completely naked and, his hand is quickly tucking into your panties.

“Can I touch you here?” He smirks, and although the word is a little cheesy you can’t help but notice how incredibly naughty he sounds, his eyes looming with a renewed sense of desire.

You nod, your thighs trembling as the pads of his fingers press on your clit, rubbing back and forth. You’re completely drenched for him at this point and, desperate enough to rub up against him if that’s all you were able to do.

But, you’re Jungkook’s girl and, Jungkook’s girl gets the best of the best.

“I can feel how tight you are and, I’m not even inside of you…” His fingers aren’t either but, he can feel how tense the muscles of your pussy are and, he is dead set on unraveling each one, “Your clit is throbbing underneath my fingers baby, does this feel good?”

All you can do is nod, breathing heavily as you rut against his hand. You want him to keep talking, it’s so hot and, so unlike him but, you want to drown in his voice.

“Yeah? It feels good when I rub your clit like this? What about if I do this?” His smirk broadens as his face rubbing against yours as he tucks a finger inside of you, hooking it up towards your g-spot.

The sensation makes you gasp and, he chuckles darkly at the sound, biting the apple of your cheek as he begins to fuck you with his fingers, “Jagiya, you feel that?” He teases, his accent thicker than ever, increasing the pace inside of you, “You already got me hard again…”

Needless to say, you urge him to abandon his current mission and, instead the two of you aid in slipping him inside of you.

It doesn’t last long either.

You’ve been wet for nearly an hour and, after watching him cum, you’re far too sensitive to hold off your orgasm.

It’s been about 10 minutes and, Jungkook has secured you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you once again.

He’s pressed a kiss to your forehead at least a dozen times and, you’ve been tracing shapes into his back.

It’s a comfortable silence you don’t feel like breaking for the moment.

So, you don’t.

The two of you stay cuddled up like that, kissing and touching on one another until the lure of sleep becomes too much to resist.

When you do succumb to it, you dream of the man you fell asleep with.

Thankfully for you, your subconscious plays the events of the evening once more.

And the next morning, when you wake up wet, Jungkook has no problem showing you just how much he wants you-

All over again.

6K notes · View notes

cabensonsgirly · 4 years ago

Text

👼Baby's Got Trouble. Don't Know How To Live. Don't Want To Die. (Cordelia Goode)👼

Cordelia Goode x fem!reader

👼Part 6 of SP getting reader pregnant👼

👼Slice 2👼

Co-authored with @billiedeannovak

Somewhat au but more so later xx

👼Wordcount: 3131👼

👼Posted on AO3: Read Here👼

👼Content: Fiona (I know a lot of y'all hate her so she's here for you to hate her more xx), slow-burn, angst, fluff, mentions of blood, mild violence, feelings👼

👼You closed your eyes, resting your hands flat against the cold wood of the door as you started your breathing exercises. Soon each breath came in and filled your lungs as if you were breathing for the first time ever, each one as refreshing as the last. When you opened your eyes and swore in shock upon seeing there was another blonde standing in front of you, looking at you as if you were some alien.👼

As you put what clothing you had in the set of drawers you realised you would need to go shopping very soon or else you’d end up wearing a towel while you waited for your items to wash and dry. You hoped that classes today finished quickly so that you could bus to the mall and spend what little money you had in savings on clothing. Shit. That’s another problem. You didn’t have a job anymore so should you need new shoes or personal items how are you going to be able to pay for them?

You swore loudly and hit the drawers in frustration, why couldn’t you just be normal? Outside you could hear the girls speaking, well- yelling: “Hey! That new girl seems to have anger issues! Cordelia are you sure she’s not gonna murder us or anything?” It feels as though the walls have ears, which wouldn’t be surprising seeing as the whole building felt like it was pulsing with energy. Maybe it was the sheer amount of witches converging in this one place or maybe it was the history of the building itself. A quick google search shows that this place was built in the late 1700s or something so, to put it mildly, it was really fucking old.

You take your phone off charge and slip it into your back pocket before leaving your room, closing the door behind you although you feel as though a shut door wont stop the others from snooping. The moment the door clicked shut behind you it was as if air was sucked from your lungs, each breath becoming harder no matter how deep a breath you took. You closed your eyes, resting your hands flat against the cold wood of the door as you started your breathing exercises. Soon each breath came in and filled your lungs as if you were breathing for the first time ever, each one as refreshing as the last. When you opened your eyes and swore in shock upon seeing there was another blonde standing in front of you, looking at you as if you were some alien.

“You’ve got a mouth on you. I like it. The rest of you?” She steps back, tilting her head to the side as she looks you up and down before shrugging “You’re alright looking. Could probably do with better clothes or none at all but hey, we all start somewhere, right?” You give her an incredulous look “thanks, I guess?” before moving past her and heading down the stairs, thanking the stars that Cordelia is at the bottom of them. “I saw you and Madison having a chat, hopefully she wasn’t too” she screws her face up a little and does a vague gesture with her hands “Madisony.”

You laugh lightly, a light blush settling on Cordelia’s cheeks as well. “She was- is, certainly something. Said that I would look better with nicer clothes on or none at all. Which I mean…” You bite your bottom lip slightly and give her a wink before laughing “God I’m sorry. That was- That was not appropriate.” Cordelia blinks a few times in shock, her cheeks taking on a darker colour and she looks down then back at you before turning away completely. “I- Well… Let’s- I’ll show you where we have breakfast.”

It didn’t take you long for you to get settled in at the academy, after the first week of trepidation and nerves had ran their course, you found yourself getting along well with most of the girls there; you and Cordelia had become closer too, surprising yourself with how quickly you had become close to her in six months. Madison still felt the need to get you out of your clothing because apparently nothing you wore looked good on you. You couldn’t care less about what she had to say, you were more concerned about what the hellhound had to say, Fiona. Don’t let her catch you saying that though or else you’d find yourself becoming well acquainted with the wall.

The woman fucking terrified you, and it wasn’t just because she was Supreme. She just gave off the distinct impression that she hated everyone, especially her daughter which pissed you off to no end. Here Cordelia was running the academy while her mother is off galivanting around the world, in fact, she’s still running it but according to Fiona she was a disgrace. Maybe you should introduce her to your own mother, they would get on like a house on fire, which is probably what the outcome would be.

Both women were alcoholics and smoked as though cigarettes would soon go out of fashion, both women also hated their daughters with a burning passion. You could understand your mother hating you, but you couldn’t understand why Fiona hated Cordelia; she was an amazing woman and mentor to you, she treated you like you were the most precious being she’s ever met and even when you slipped up, she was there to help you until you were successful.

In order to avoid running into the hellhound that had returned, you spent most, if not all, of your time outside under one of the trees reading through books and notes. The woman rarely went into the garden so you felt quite safe out here. It was peaceful, the wind danced through the leaves making them join in on the waltz, the sounds that the birds sung took you away from being in the city and into the wilderness, it amazed you how much life was on this property despite it being surrounded by so many other buildings, it should be suffocating but it isn’t.

You rest your head back against the tree, looking up through its branches and leaves to see speckles of blue from the sky poke through. “So this is where you run off to hide when the Supreme comes back to play… I don’t know what my daughter sees in you. All you do is sit around with your nose in those damned books or spend time in that greenhouse Cordelia insists on having. Are you even really a witch?”

Your head snapped down to see who was speaking, but you already had a clear idea of who it was. Your eyes landed on the older blonde, your cheeks taking on colour due to embarrassment. “I- I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t a witch, ma’am. Surely you’d know that being the Supreme and all.” She scoffed and narrowed her eyes at you, “And I thought you’d know a rhetorical question when it hits you in the face, but clearly you don’t. The only thing that could be more obvious is your silly little infatuation with Cordelia. I don’t know who is more idiotic between the two of you. You for liking my daughter, or my daughter for thinking you are capable of becoming a powerful witch.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes, knowing that if she caught you, you would end up rather worse for wear. You close your books then pick them up as you stand, “well, as always, ma’am, it hasn’t been a pleasure. I know for a fact that one day, Cordelia will be an incredibly powerful witch and you will regret all the times you have treated her like shit.” In a move that surprises not only yourself but the Supreme, you found yourself disappearing before reappearing in Cordelia’s office, startling her.

“How- How did I just? I was- your mom and in the garden and now- what?” You turned around, checking to see if you were actually in one piece and actually in Cordelia’s office before looking at her, confusion visible on your face. She pushes back from her desk before standing up and making her way over to you, her eyebrows furrowed in thought and her eyes twinkling with curiosity behind her glasses.

“Transmutation. The ability to move from one place to another instantaneously without occupying the space in between… You have to have where you want to be clear in mind but even then it can still end catastrophically.” Cordelia whispers as she walks around you slowly, examining to see whether or not you’re injured in anyway before returning to stand in front of you, a proud smile on her face. “It’s one of the skills a witch must master in order to become Supreme, but that is still quite some time away for you. Of all the places you could go to escape from being tormented by my mother… you chose here.”

You blush and look down, a shy smile on your face “Where else would I go?” You raise your gaze to meet hers, biting your bottom lip slightly when you notice her cheeks are now a lovely shade of pink. “Oh- Well- well there’s so many rooms here and- and you have your own and- and there’s just- there are so many places but- but you chose here and I just-“ You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at how flustered Cordelia has become. “Delia,” you grin, shaking your head slightly “has anyone told you lately how cute you are when flustered?”

The blonde’s eyes widen and her cheeks take on an even darker colour, she pushes her glasses up her nose, taking her bottom lip between her teeth shyly. “No- No well- No because usually they just think I’m being annoying because I tend to ramble and then I get embarrassed and just trail off before I get told to shut up” she rushes out, her voice barely above a whisper. You move your hand and brush some of her hair behind her ear, your hand lingering on her cheek before you both spring away from each other when the door opens.

“Ah Cordelia, there you are. I was wondering where you were, your mother is in one of her moods again. Something about ‘that new witch’ and ‘she just vanished after running her mouth’, she is drinking herself into a stupor, you know how she gets.” You move out of the way so Myrtle can enter the room, your blush only darkening at her words.

“So, little witch, what did you do and say to get our Supreme in such a mood?” Your eyes dart between her and Cordelia, desperately hoping she would make you disappear but nothing happened, and you were too flustered to make yourself disappear. “I- I didn’t really- I didn’t do anything that- that would make any rational witch- er, sorry Delia you know what I mean though… would make anyone flip their lid. She- She was talking poorly about Delia and I couldn’t just let her continue because Delia is wonderful and beautiful and amazing and smart and” You go wide-eyed and look down “I- Sorry… I- Anyway” you clear your throat before looking back at Myrtle.

“So- So I said that Delia will become an extremely powerful witch one day and- and that she’d regret all the times she has treated Delia like shit. Then- Then apparently I transmuted into Delia’s office.” Myrtle raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips tugging up in a faint smirk as she turns to look at Cordelia. “Seems like you have a witch in shining armour, Cordelia. One who is growing into her abilities more each time I see her; you’re an excellent mentor to her. Little witch, I think the girls were looking for you.”

You dip your head, a shy smile on your face before you take your leave, thanking both witches as you close the door behind you. Your hand lingered on the doorknob as you rest your forehead against the door, your eyes closing briefly. If you weren’t careful, you thought you’d end up back in the room again, you wouldn’t complain if that were the case but you were already borderline inappropriate with the headmistress so you took your leave, heading to where the girls slept knowing this is where they spend most of their time. Each step you took on the floor bounced off the walls, the sound echoing throughout the neoclassical interior.

Myrtle lets out a sigh, shaking her head as she sits down in front of Cordelia’s desk. She runs her hand over the surface before resting it on her lap on top of her other one, “What are you doing, Cordelia? What is going on between you two? Nobody, not even your mother, was capable of transmuting under such duress at that age, yet Yn did. She did, and she found herself in your office. So don’t lie to me, Cordelia.”

Cordelia runs her fingers through her head as she paces back and forth in front of Myrtle, stopping occasionally to rub her face with her hands before continuing, clearly bugged by something. “Nothing. Nothing is going on between us. It- It can’t happen. She’s my student. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Not even accounting for what the others would think and say about it. They’d say I’m playing favourites and- and that she’s only getting good grades because she’s sleeping with me. I can’t. It- It can’t happen.” She shakes her head and slumps into her seat, leaning against her desk where she rests her face in her hands, letting out a shaky breath. “It’s- It’s not a good idea, Myrtle.”

The red-haired witch makes an exasperated sound, looking at Cordelia with an expression she hadn’t seen since Myrtle had had enough of Fiona. “Don’t make the same mistakes as your mother, Cordelia. You are stopping yourself from being happy because you’re too afraid of what might happen.” She sits back in the seat, pointing a finger at the blonde “you are still scared about what your mother has to say about you.” Myrtle’s expression softens, her eyes no longer steely but now filled with nothing but sincerity for the woman that sat in front of her. “You can’t go through life like this. You need to find out what you want, and whether or not you are willing to do whatever it takes to get there.”

Meanwhile you were currently sitting in a small circle on the floor with Madison, Queenie, and Zoe. You had been roped into a game of Truth or Dare, which is a game you had managed to avoid for a vast majority of your life because you hated it. Why did you hate this game? Because it gave people the perfect opportunity to force information out of you, and into doing things you wouldn’t usually do. “Yn, truth of dare? No you can’t opt out, we’ve been over this already” you groan in annoyance, rolling your eyes before responding “truth.”

Madison claps her hands together and her eyes sparkle dangerously, a look you had desperately been trying to prevent from being directed towards you seeing as the last time she gave you that look you had found yourself pinned against your bedroom wall with her pressed up against you because you had said she wouldn’t win in a fight against you, yet she did and you ended up with very angry marks on your neck for the rest of the week. You breathed out a quiet “shit” which the other girls laughed and nodded in agreement with.

“Are you sleeping with Cordelia?” She quirked an eyebrow, a salacious smirk spreading across her face. In comparison, you blushed furiously, your eyes wide in shock and you didn’t come to until Zoe gave you a hard smack on your back, forcing you to cough out a breath before you started breathing normally again. “No! No. No I don’t- No! No. We’ve never- I haven’t- No.” You shake your head in disbelief “jesus Mad, where the fuck did that come from??”

All the girls had started laughing, Madison’s being the loudest of them all. “There is clearly something going on between you two, you both practically eye-fuck each whenever you’re in the same room. So, spill.”

You shoot her a glare, taking a few deep breathes to stop yourself from tossing her across the room like Fiona does. “There isn’t anything going on Madison, for fuck sake. Nothing can happen. Nothing will ever happen. She’s my teacher, our teacher. She’s the fucking headmistress of this place! And besides, you lot would say I’m only passing because I’m sleeping with her.” You sigh sadly and stand up before leaving “this is why no one likes you Madison.” The walk back to your room felt like it took forever, each step seeming to take you further away from your destination, the only thing running through your mind was how close you were to Cordelia yet somehow so far from her.

“Why do you look like how my daughter is after spending five minutes alone with me? What happened, did she break your poor little heart?” The woman laughs, the sound shooting through you as the waft of smoke from her cigarette hits you. “Although she is pathetic, she is also a Goode and she can do so much better than you.” You look at Fiona, a defeated expression on your face as you shrugged “Nothing has happened between us. Nothing will ever happen between us. So don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’m not the one ruining the Goode name, you have that sorted out all on your own.”

You move past her and into your room, going to close the door but a shriek is torn from you as your flung against the wall, hitting it with a thud before landing unceremoniously on the floor. You scramble to sit up against the wall, eyes never leaving Fiona as she moves further into your room, her eyes wild. “You may be skilled with transmutation, and you may be my stupid daughter’s favourite, but I am still the fucking Supreme.”

You wipe your nose, cursing quietly when your hand comes away red; closing your eyes you took a deep breath, then when you opened them and exhaled the bleeding had stopped. “What- What do you want then, my Supreme?” You sneered at her despite feeling anything close to fighting. The older woman flicks her hair out of her face, tilting her chin up as she looks down at you “I want you to remember your fucking place. I don’t care how quickly you’re learning to master magic, you will never be at the same level as me.” She moves closer to you until she’s standing over you, her nose screwed up in disgust “you will never be anything more than a nobody that was picked up off the streets because her own family didn’t want her. You aren’t even wanted here.” Fiona gave you one more look over, shaking her head before she leaves, slamming the door behind her.

#Cordelia goode #cordelia goode imagine #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia foxx #cordelia foxx imagine #cordelia foxx x reader #Sarah paulson #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson x reader #ahs #ahs imagine #ahs coven #ahs coven imagine

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oikawaplssteponme · 4 years ago

Note

okay I LOVE SOULMATE AU'S so imma send two requests cause why not

first one letter d. damage. with bakugou 🥺👉👈 perhaps not entirely like the list but in which the reader feels the pain as well (?) so whenever he uses his quirk the reader feels the explosions!! could be them finally meeting in U.A. (reader in class 1A or they're in general studies whichever you think it's best!) and fluff of coursee

uhhhh I guess that's it for the first one, if you want more details just say so!!! 🤩🥺 I'll send a second ask with the other one 👉👈. 🌺.anon

hi again anon!! i loved writing your requests so thank you for sending them in ☺️💕

Damage

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

warnings: some swearing, mentions of injuries

genre: fluff

a/n: because i couldn’t help myself i had Hatsume make an appearance (i just love her sm hehehe). also i sorta changed it to wear the quirk causes the damage and they can feel their soulmate’s quirk. enjoy xx

•

It started as little shocks. You felt your palms get sweaty, and start to spark. It was a strange sensation. At first, these explosions spurring out from your hands didn’t hurt too much. Then they got stronger by no fault of your own. The residue from these detonations took a toll on your hands. Your quirk had nothing to do with explosions, so why did your body seem to exert this kind of force?

Then you remembered.

Soulmates.

You feel whatever they feel. Whatever kind of damage they go through, you will too.

You assumed that your soulmate had to have some kind of explosive power, and was in constant training. They must be on the track to becoming a Pro Hero, or they had anger issues at the very least.

You were a third-year at UA High. You were in the general studies course, working alongside your best friend, Mei Hatsume, in the student workshop. You didn’t have the flashiest quirk but it was good for what you intended on doing with your life. You wanted to work with Hero’s at their agencies. You were quick with numbers and had a quirk that involved elevated intelligence. So any Hero would trust you with the logistics of Hero work.

“If I have to make that Izuku kid one more of these leg paddings I am going to lose my mind. Plus Ultra does not mean break my babies every two minutes,” Hatsume groaned. You laughed.

“Well, when we have our evaluations you can tell him that.”

“How many students do you have tomorrow?” asked Hatsume.

“I think about ten from class 3A. I finished all of their spreadsheets and costume improvements. Tomorrow I’ll just have to show them,” you explained.

Depending on quirk and commitment, certain students from outside the Hero Course were chosen to provide assistance to those in the Hero course. You were chosen to create advanced training plans, after crunching a few numbers, that will show these future Hero’s what they need to do to improve and stay on track. It was a way to show your skills to hiring agencies as well, as you can take some credit for your classmate’s success.

“I’ve got the rest of that class too for tomorrow. That's why I have to make Izuku these new pads,” she huffed. You chuckled.

“At least you know some of them by name. I barely know their names of mine and I’ve gone to school with them for three years.”

“A lot of them aren’t worth remembering,” joked Mei.

“Well, I’m gonna get some sleep before a long day tomorrow. See ya.” You packed up your things and left for the dorms.

As you were leaving, you looked over at your arm. A bruise began to form.

Great.

Then came the explosions. You would keep our arms out to avoid them from hitting your face and just let the explosions run their course.

“Can my soulmate be calm for two seconds?” You mumbled to yourself before continuing your walk to the dorms.

It was the morning of evaluations and you were running down to the training ground to meet your group. Your arms bruised and beaten from your soulmate’s own damage. They were sore as you carried the large stacks of papers. The Hero Course students awaited your arrival.

“Sorry I’m late you guys! I had to make sure I had everything. Okay, so these are your personalized spreadsheets to help with training. Um, who is Mina Ashido?”

“Me!” said the pink haired girl. You handed her the folder. You continued giving each student their specified folder.

“Uh, Katsuki Bakugou?” You called at last. A blond boy with spiked hair raised his hand. You handed him his folder, accidentally locking eyes with him. He had beautiful red eyes. He noticed you too.

Wait he’s cute.

“Oh uh sorry…” you mumbled, snapping back into reality. Bakugou nodded, taking the folder and walking away, his hand on the back of his head.

“So after you’ve looked over your training plan you can feel free to start putting things into practice out here or use the inside facility. Let me know if you have any questions,” you announced. Most of the students went inside, a few stayed and spread out among themselves.

“Hey! Y/N!” a voice called. You turned around to see the blond boy again.

“Bakugou right? What’s up?” You asked.

“Why did you cross this out?” he asked. He pointed to his self-evaluation that you asked everyone to fill out when creating their trading plans.

“Because for goals you wrote: ‘beat Deku’. I don’t know what a ‘deku’ is so I can’t really help you plan for that,” you explained. Bakugou chuckled.

“It’s a person.” You felt a wave of embarrassment.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so stupid,” you sighed.

“It’s fine. Hopefully whatever crap you wrote in here helps me beat him,” he said.

“I can add more to it if you’d like. What’s your quirk again?” you asked, taking the folder from his hands.

“Explosions.”

Your heart dropped to the ground. There’s no way it could be him, after all, lots of people have explosive quirks. What are the odds that you go to the same school as you? You looked down at his folder. There is was.

Katsuki Bakugou. Quirk: Explosions. Using his nitroglycerin sweat, he is able to create powerful explosions from the palms of his hands.

How could you have missed this? Well, you did write most of the training plans while on only one hour of sleep, so the idea of a possible soulmate must’ve slipped your mind.

“You good?” he asked. You nodded violently.

“Yup yup, all good. Do you mind standing over there?” You pointed to the middle of the field. Bakugou did as he was told.

“Okay, uh, blast me one of your explosions,” you ordered. Bakugou smirked.

“I thought you’d never ask…”

Bakugou adjusted his stance and began to fly himself up with his explosions. He blasted himself through the air before landing in front of you. You looked down at your own hands, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.

“How was that?” grinned Bakugou.

“Pretty good. I calculated better strategies for air dynamics so why don’t you try-”

*BOOM*

You had blasted yourself into the air, imitating the same pattern that Bakugou had just performed. Your hands burning with each explosion.

“SHIT SHIT SHIT- I DON’T KNOW HOW TO LAND!” you yelled. Bakugou’s eyes widened. He ran toward you as you fell back onto the ground, catching you safely.

Your face burned as you looked up at him. He smiled.

“I figured my soulmate would have handled my quirk better by now,” he joked. You sighed.

“You should be grateful that the most damage I’ve done to you is giving you a paper cut.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you to Recovery Girl to bandage you up then take you out. How that dumbass?” smiled Bakugou. You smiled back, ruffling his hair.

“Sounds good soulmate.”

•

[general taglist: @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @roesaurus @evivn1 @astrooliver @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @complimentaryhugsgirl ]

#willow.🌸#🌺.anon #my hero academia #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugō #katsuki x y/n #mha katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #soulmate au

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santigarcia · 5 years ago

Text

Frustration

a Nathan Bateman x f!reader fic~

word count: 1.3k

rating: m - masturbation/voyeurism

summary: Nathan has a crush on you and he’s grumpy about it. He’s got sexual frustration pent up and he need to do something about it.

a/n: this smug beardy asshole lives in my mind RENT FREE i had to write about him some more

Frustration

You get under Nathan’s skin and he hates it. He can’t quite put his finger on what it is about you that makes him crazy – and that’s what makes him crazy. Ever since you moved out here to help after his ‘incident’ he prefers to have real people around, even if they are more complicated than AI. But you, fuck, you make his head spin and he wish he knew why.

Maybe it’s because you’re exactly his type. Maybe you’re the most beautiful woman ever created. He doesn’t know if he believes in God, but he knows whoever made you was an artist. Everything you do makes his chest tighten. And he doesn’t have a damn clue what to do about any of it.

He knows you deserve better than an asshole like him anyways. So, he pushes whatever the hell he’s feeling down. Down deep. He used to drink to quiet his mind, now he drinks to get the thoughts of you out of his head.

But it doesn’t fuckin’ work.

He aches, he aches for you in a way he doesn’t understand.

He tries to break it down for himself in a scientific manner.

Ok. So, you’re a beautiful woman, and it’s chemicals in his body that make him want to be with you right? Just chemicals.

But it’s so loud, it’s so loud in his head. The thing is though you simultaneously quiet his mind with your presence. Your voice, your laugh. He’d burn the whole world down if anyone hurt you. He lives for that look in your eyes when you get flustered.

He has a damn crush on you and he’s mad about it.

He wakes one morning after having a very intimate dream about you, and he must go outside to box. He’s got to get this energy out. It’s a particularly cold morning, the chill washes over his arms. He sloppily wraps his hands, ready to punch away the images of you naked from his mind.

He’s never actually seen you naked, but fuck if he doesn’t want to know. He respects you enough that he turned off the cameras in your room. He might have peeked a few times, but you were always asleep or clothed. He feels slightly guilty about looking, but not even that he doesn’t peek occasionally.

He hits the bag hard. Trying to chase the dream away. He had you groaning and crying from pleasure, and he can’t get rid of how you sounded.

The chill of the air starts to feel good when he starts to sweat. The sweat on his brow not just from his exertion, but from the need building up inside of him. Adrenaline pumps through his veins. He’s hitting the bag hard; his knuckles will be bruised and tender later.

When it starts to rain and the temperature drops, he unwillingly heads inside.

He’s greeted with the sight of you in the kitchen, making some hot tea on this cold morning. You’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt; it hits your mid-thigh. You have long warm socks that go up to your knee. There’s a precious bit of bare skin on your legs that has him swallow harshly. Your hair is adorably messy, and you’re humming. You don’t know he’s there, or maybe you do.

“Hey,” he says, letting you know he’s there. And fuck was that his voice? It sounded like he was in pain.

Maybe because he is. He’s hard in his gym shorts and there’s no way you won’t notice when you turn around.

“Good morning!” your voice is cheery and sleep still clings to it. Fuck him you’re cute. “Are you alright?” you ask when you turn, your brow is furrowed.

“Worked out a little too hard,” he laughs. Wrong choice of words Bateman. He knows you see the look on his face, but you give him a gentle smile anyways. If you saw him hard through his pants he doesn’t know.

You’re accustomed to his quirks, so it’s not unusual when he darts out of the room.

He has a problem that he needs to take care of now. He thinks about a cold shower, but no. He needs the release.

Once he’s in his room he strips himself of his sweaty clothes and flops naked on his bed. His hand grabbing himself with need, and his groan is a little too loud. He thinks about you. Your smile. Your legs. How much he wants to suck on your tits. How badly he wants to smack your ass, have you whimper for him. Fuck he wants to kiss you. To hold you.

His hand speeds up, he’s groaning loudly, and he doesn’t care if you hear. Maybe this would solve his problem. He pushes the thought from his mind that you might not want him. He’s seen the shy smiles.

Those are his favorite, the little shy glances you give him when he’s being snarky. He loves when you sass him back too but shit those little shy grins. To die for.

He’s so close, the thoughts of you have him tipping over the edge and spilling all over his hand and stomach.

His physical need is satisfied, but he still has a need. He showers now and it doesn’t help. He still wants you, but at least his aching sexual need for the moment has quieted down.

He’d been afraid he wouldn’t be able to look at you after this, but he now wants to. Wants to see you. But it’s you now that can’t look at him.

When you’d finished making your tea, you took it back to your room. Maybe it was a glitch, he’s still ironing those out after the incident, but your TV turns on and there’s a video feed of a very naked Nathan jerking himself off. You almost turn it off, but when you hear your name fall from his lips you can’t turn your eyes away.

Nathan is sharp, he knows something is up when you can barely look him for the next couple days. You’re acting shyer than normal.

“So, what’s up?” he sits down in front of you in the living room one night. You were reading, but Nathan pulls the book from your hands, making you look at him. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“I-“ your eyes are big, pupils dilated.

Suddenly it clicks.

You start to stand up. You know he won’t be satisfied until he has his answer. And he knows you know that.

He grabs your wrist. He doesn’t even look at you when he speaks.

“I know you saw.”

His finger on your pulse point tells him all he needs to know.

“You liked it. Didn’t you?”

Your heart is beating faster.

“You heard me say your name.” He let’s go of your wrist, and he stands now in front of you. He watches your face; your eyes are dark with arousal. You’re trembling.

He mentally yells at himself; he doesn’t want to scare you away. His next move is a gentler one, he lightly cups your face in his hands. And he watches you melt into his touch. That’s it. A smile grows that look of arousal still in your eyes.

He doesn’t know who closes the gap between you, but he shudders to kiss you finally. You haven’t stopped trembling in his arms, and he’s endeared by it.

When you break apart for air, he looks at you. His dark brown eyes full of a softness you don’t see much.

“I know I’m an asshole, and you deserve better than me. But would you give me a chance?”

“Yes,” you giggle and lean up to kiss his cheek. Fuck he felt that in his dick. “And next time I’m so desirable that you have to leave to go jerk off will you let me know? I can help with that.”

Fuck.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “Yeah I will kitten. You wanna, help me out now?” He pushes his hips forward into you, his arousal against your thigh is unmistakable.

When you lean into him, he sighs in relief. His dreams of you is about to become a reality.

tagging: @aliciaxglasgow, @arabellathorne, @bucky-j-barnes, @coaaster, @velvetmel0n, @darksideofclarke, @dindisneydjarin, @djarinsbxbyy, @eternallyvenus, @feelmyroarrrr, @ghosttofcalum, @himbopoes, @huliabitch, @jubileetion, @knittingqueen13, @mandoplease, @marvel-dameron, @melanietrancy, @mylifeliterally, @ntlmundy, @paintballkid711, @pascalplease, @pascalz, @perropascal, @phoenixhalliwell, @punkpascal, @rewritingstarrs, @savagethewhale, @saved-fanfiction, @shadow-assassin-blix, @stanningtoomanypeopleatonce, @thehippiequilter, @this-cat-is-dea, @tintinwrites, @wakalas, @woakiees, @writefightandflightclub, @xremember-me-notx

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #ex machina #mine #my gifs #my writing #glkjshgkshgksj #THIS CAME TO ME AT LIKE 5 AM

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kmikaelsonimagines · 4 years ago

Text

The 1: A Kol Mikaelson Imagine

Request from Anon: The 1 please xx

I didn’t realise until I read over this, but there’s a bit of me in this one, in that what Kol feels is very similar to my own experiences. If you guys ever need to talk about anything similar to the content in this imagine, please don’t hesitate to pop me a message. Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

The 1

I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit Been saying "yes" instead of "no" I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though

Kol had been doing well for the first time since it happened. It had only taken a few months, but he was finally beginning to feel some level of peace. He knew that he would never be the person he was again, never feel entirely complete, not after what had happened, but he was starting to feel almost contented.

It was what she would have wanted, always moaning at him for being too moody whenever things didn’t go quite the way he wanted them to. He smiled at the memory, seeing her faint outline standing in front of him.

It wasn’t really her, he knew that, but it was better than nothing. Better than being alone with his thoughts, better than letting himself spiral into a deep dark void where he was reminded of all his mistakes, self-loathing swallowing him up.

He refused to let that happen, not again, knowing that if he fell down that hole again, there would be no-one to help him out of it. No-one had the first time, after all, his family either hiding and pretending it didn’t happen, or threatening him if he stepped a foot out of line.

It was why he had left Mystic Falls, not being able to face them, not that they would have missed him.

But now a few months on, he realised that he needed to go back. He took a breath before opening the front door, stepping into the house where it happened.

The house where Y/N had died.

I hit the ground running each night I hit the Sunday matinée You know the greatest films of all time were never made

The first thing he saw was the book on the armchair. Spine broken, pages old and worn, leather bookmark sticking out of them. He knew that book, knew its smell, its touch, the way it made the reader smile.

It was Y/N’s, something he had obviously left behind when he had taken her things and moved them out of the Mikaelson mansion. Someone was reading it, and as Kol inhaled its scent, hoping that Y/N’s had lingered, he felt anger bubble up as hers was swallowed by that of his older brother.

Elijah.

Kol tried to drown out the image of his sibling with one of Y/N, of her telling him just how this was the greatest book of all time, how a film should be made out of it. He had promised her that one day, when that movie was made, he would take her to see it on a Sunday afternoon, and she had smiled, her eyes lighting up as she kissed his cheek.

Kol pulled the bookmark out of the pages, and pocketed the book. He would take it home with him when he was done here and leave Elijah with the ever damning thought that he would never find out what happened at the end of the novel.

Just like Y/N would never see that movie. I guess you never know, never know And if you wanted me, you really should've showed And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow And it's alright now

“You’re back.” Kol was snapped out of his thoughts of Y/N by the voice of his sister. Turning, he looked at Rebekah, her eyes so full of sadness and hope that maybe her brother would stay this time.

“Not for long. Just need to pick up some things, and then I’ll be gone.” His words were clipped, and he turned his back on his sister as he walked towards where his bedroom was. No, not his bedroom. Their bedroom. His and Y/N’s.

“Kol.”

“What, Rebekah? What could you possibly want?”

“How are you?”

Kol shook his head. He knew his sister cared, knew that she was trying. But it was too little, too late. If she wanted him to stay in the first place, then maybe she should have tried a little harder all those months ago. Maybe she shouldn’t have sided with Klaus when Kol went on a bloody rampage out of grief, his hybrid brother threatening to dagger him again.

Fucking hypocrite. How many people had died at Klaus’s hands after he had lost someone?

But Kol didn’t say any of that. “Fine.”

He opened up the wardrobe, trying not to look at the bed where he and Y/N had slept.

But we were something, don't you think so? Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

Kol knew Rebekah was still standing there, watching him as he ran his fingers over Y/N’s clothes. Unlike the book that still rested in his pocket, her scent still lingered, and he resisted the urge to cover himself in it, to wrap each dress, each t-shirt, each jacket around his body.

If he did that, he was sure he would break down, and all his progress would be for nothing.

His gaze turned to a black dress, short feathered sleeves between his fingers as he remembered the day Y/N had worn it. It had been her birthday, he forgot which one, but he remembered how she had leaned over the railings surrounding the pond in the park.

He remembered how she had pulled coins out of her purse and given one to him.

“Make a wish, Kol.”

“You know we could just do this with magic.”

She’d pushed him playfully. “Just throw it in. You can’t tell me your wish otherwise it won’t come true.”

She had said that he couldn’t tell her. It hadn’t stopped him from showing her that night, pushing the dress off her shoulders and her body into the bed behind him.

Kol took the clothes off the hangers and packed them into the box he had brought with him.

And if my wishes came true It would've been you

“Kol, can you just talk to me? Please.”

Kol walked past his sister with that box of Y/N’s clothes, pretending as if she wasn’t there. He hadn’t forgiven her for what had happened those months ago, for siding with his brothers, for acting like Y/N hadn’t even lived in the house.

Kol hadn’t stopped blaming himself for what had happened to her. If only he hadn’t shown her his wish, maybe she would have still been alive. If only he hadn’t whispered it onto her skin, maybe he wouldn’t have had to bury her.

If his wish had come true, Y/N would still be here. If his wish had come true, Kol and Y/N would have been spending the rest of eternity together.

He surveyed the room, patting his pocket to check that her book was still there. It seemed he had everything he needed. Except-

There was a dagger at his back, the point digging into his skin through his coat. He froze, a familiar chill creeping over him. It had been Klaus last time, it had been Klaus almost every time.

He had never thought it would be his sister, never thought it would be Rebekah threatening him.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you to listen.”

In my defense, I have none For never leaving well enough alone

Kol’s anger grew as Rebekah spoke, and he tried ridiculously hard not to snap.

“I know you’re upset with us, but we’re your family Kol. We were hurting too. We miss her too.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” His voice was flat as he tried to remain calm, tried to keep his defenses up, the way Y/N would want him to. “Are you going to put that bloody dagger down?”

“Not until you agree to forgive us.”

That was it. That was the moment Kol snapped, his rage pouring over him in waves.

“Forgive you? Forgive this family? You must be joking. You’re the reason she’s dead. Klaus thought the best idea would be to put me away, Elijah won’t even show his face, and you’re swanning around in one of her dresses. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I can’t forgive you when you won’t even acknowledge that she’s dead, and that it’s your fault, because this bloody family is too damn obsessed with pride and power, and can never leave things alone.”

“But we’re family, Kol.”

Hearing in Rebekah’s voice that she was off guard, Kol turned and gripped the blade in his hand, yanking it away from his sister. “No, we’re not. Y/N was my family, and you all took that away from me.”

He dropped the knife to the floor and left the house.

But it would've been fun If you would've been the one

Once back in his car, Kol put the box full of Y/N’s clothes on the passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel so tightly he thought his knuckles would protrude from his skin. He wanted to scream, but knew that once he did that, it would attract attention and that was the last thing he wanted.

So he took deep breaths, trying desperately to steady himself before he drove home. Whatever home was anymore.

He remembered the book in his pocket, and pulled it out so as not to damage it whilst he drove. He fingered the pages, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he remembered Y/N’s words.

“You’d like it if you just read it, Kol.”

“I’ll wait for the movie.”

Kol smiled, tears welling in his eyes. If there was ever a time to read Y/N’s favourite book, it was now. He opened it up and his breath caught at what was scrawled onto the front page.

Kol,

If you’re reading this, it means you’ve finally listened to my advice.

I love you, and just so you know, you’ve always been the one for me.

Y/N xxx

Kol lifted the book up to his nose, and there it was, the last lingering trace of her scent. He inhaled it, breathing in all he had left of his Y/N.

None of that stopped him from placing his forehead on the steering wheel and crying until his throat was raw.

None of that stopped him from mourning Y/N, the woman who should have been the one.

Masterlist

Folklore Masterlist

#the vampire diaries #tvd #tvd imagine #tvd imagines #the originals #to #the originals imagines #the originals imagine #Kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson imagines #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson x reader #nate buzolic #nate buzz #Nathaniel Buzolic

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Text

Stutter Something Profound

A/N: Y’all wanted part 2, so you get part 2 with some sub!Din! It did get a little soft, I might add, but enjoy! Happy Valentine’s Day from me to you! As always, comments and feedback are welcomed! xx

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only) - oral (m and f receiving, unprotected sex, etc...)

DOUSE THE LIGHTS (PART 1)

THE MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Quiet down,” Din’s voice was sharp and biting as your brow furrowed and you turned to him with a look of confusion marring your features.

“I didn’t say a word,” you huffed in response as you turned your attention back to the little bean sitting across the cold, metallic floor from you. His favorite little ball was in his tiny hands as the two of you rolled it back and forth to each other. You’d been stuck in hyperspace for some time, and there really wasn’t much else to do. It was like the Mandalorian - Din, you reminded yourself - refused to have even a modicum of fun. He’d been even more quiet and stoic than normal recently.

Ever since -

“Yes, you did,” he turned his head sharply, surely almost breaking his neck as he turned to look at the two of you from the captain’s seat. You quirked a brow in question before gesturing between yourself and the small child. He huffed sharply through his nose, the sound a loud, bitter thing as it reverberated off the walls, “keep it down.”

“That’s what I thought we were doing,” you snapped back before rolling your eyes and turning back to your small compatriot. He cooed gently before smiling and taking the ball as you rolled it back to him. You couldn’t help but smile at the little one; he always had the best and most calming aura about him. Before you could stop yourself, under your breath you murmured, “maybe you just need to calm down a little.”

"Excuse me?" oh. You just knew there was a scowl on his face, those plush lips pulled in a frown. Maker, those lips, delicious and soft, has been all over your body, mapping and marking almost every single inch of skin. You'd been thinking about them ever since that night - his touch, his taste, his feel. All of it.

Nothing had been the same since.

And yet nothing had changed.

"You heard me, Din," it was the first time you'd used his name since that night. It was a challenge as much as a question. It was silent, almost dead silent, as he slowly rose to his full height. He presented an impressive sight, covered in gleaming beskar, as his chest rose and fell steadily. Slowly, ever so slowly, he stepped closer, each footfall loud and purposeful. Shit, shit, shit. You’d fucked up and this was it. You were always pushing and pushing and pushing, and you’d finally pushed enough. Maybe he’d reached his limit.

He came over to you and slowly crouched down, predatory in every way, reaching over and taking your chin in his gloved hand as you turned your face up to meet his own. You were left breathless as you stared back into the black T of his visor, wishing you could see the expression in his eyes, “are you telling me what to do?”

Part of you wanted to remain small and shrink away, but another part of you, this one was feeling particularly strong in the moment and there was no holding it down, “yes.”

“Uh huh honey,” he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip causing you to part them slightly, “you sure about that?”

“Y-yes,” your head was already spinning with all sorts of thoughts and fantasies. He dipped his finger slightly into your mouth and you had to resist the urge to suck on it. But then you remembered - you remembered what you had told him last time. As you laid in his arms and made a promise that you planned on making good on, “yes. I am, Din.”

“Hmmm,” it was a soft gentle growl as he released your chin and stepped back, standing up again. Your heart was fluttering wildly as he walked towards the ladder, to head down, “we’ll be on Sorgan soon. Keep him with you.”

You waited until he was gone and thoroughly disappeared before hanging your head and sighing shakily. Before you could get too caught up in your head, a small bit of laughter and gentle cooing captured your attention. You looked up and found your little friend grinning at you, his little teeth on display as he made grabby hands for the small metal ball.

“Of course, my sweet bean,” you smiled fondly at him, giving him what he wanted, “anything for you. At least one of my boys isn’t being a Mr. Grumpy Boots!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“This is Sorgan?” you asked softly as you held the little one in your arms, already falling behind Din as made it a point to stop and study your surroundings. It was a beautiful place, lush and green and teaming with the sounds of all sorts of animals in the distance. He made a small noncommittal sound without so much as looking back at you. You rolled your eyes at him before sticking out your tongue and blowing a quiet raspberry, causing the little one to giggle. It appeared that he still wasn’t over being grumpy, and you were sure that he was still sour over your little outburst.

You remained quiet as you followed after him, deciding that it was best not to push his buttons. Although you weren’t so concerned with the possibility of what he would do. You knew that he wasn’t going to abandon you in some remote part of the galaxy as you once had feared; no, perhaps he’d even give you another...punishment like he had previously.

But you weren’t sure he ever would mention again. You’d wanted to bring it up, desperately so, but you just...didn’t quite know how. The morning after you’d woken up a few times only to find yourself still wrapped up in his arms, resting your head on his chest as he snored lightly. When you’d gone to get up for the day at hand, he was long gone, already dressed and going about business as usual.

You'd tried not to be upset, not to let it get it to you...but kriff. It was a one time deal but Maker, you wished it weren't. But who were you to question and interrogate him on the matter? Besides the words that needed to be exchanged, or your little altercation earlier, he'd avoided you like the plague. It was even worse than being stranded in the most desolate desert in the outer rim.

"Keep up," he called over your shoulder as you realized you'd been caught up on your myriad of daydreams and fallen far behind. You huffed as you picked up the pace to keep up with his long strides, "we're almost there."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Almost there ended up being another half hour of trekking through the woods until you reached the small village that served as your destination. Part of you had been tempted to complain, but the other half was thrilled to be able to get out and stretch your legs and see something other than metallic walls or dirt and decay. The air was fresh and light, doing wonders for your spirit and lungs. The little one seemed to be enjoying everything as much as you were - his eyes were wide and curious and as he studied the new surroundings. At the sight of a few butterflies, he reached out to try and capture one, almost tumbling out of your arms at one point. Giggling, you slowed your pace and set him on the forest floor, letting him follow behind the two of you all while keeping a close eye on him.

Eventually, the sounds of life - children’s laughter, animals, and animated chatter met your ears and you found yourself in a picturesque, small village. You look at everything in awe as your green bean toddled over to the nearest group of children. Instinct took over and you moved over to grab him, but Din grabbed your arm and shook his head, as you frowned at him, “he’s fine. He knows them.”

“Okay,” you nodded, but nonetheless your guard was up. You were more protective over Din and the little one than anything else. If something happened to either one of them you didn’t know what you’d do. Din must have sensed your hesitation as he lightly put his hand on your arm and pulled you along with him. Nodding, you silently acquiesced to his request.

It was another short walk to the center of the town, where you spied a small group of people milling about, almost as if they were expecting them. Din gave them a nod, but kept you close at his side.

“Mandalorian,” a beautiful woman with long hair walked over to the two of you as Din held his hand out to her but you stepped slightly behind him. She had a kind face and eyes, and you could tell she meant no ill will, "you've returned."

"As I said I would," he insisted as he shook her hand. Turning her attention to you, she looked you up and down, observing you with intense scrutiny, and yet you did not feel afraid. Whatever had happened between the two of them, you could tell she was looking out for him.

Holding out your own hand, you steeled yourself as you offered it to her and gave a kind smile accompanied by your name.

"Omera," she had deemed you worthy of her name and seemingly her approval, "you're…"

"She's mine," he insisted sharply, causing both you and Omera to look at him in surprise. Inside, you were beaming and bursting with joy and pride at the surprising revelation. You weren't sure if it was purely situational or he had meant it as more - as what it was, but Maker - your face felt hot and knees weak.

"She's your…"

"Mine," he repeated simply with a curt nod and an air of finality. His hand found the small of your back as you raised your eyebrows at the woman in shock, practically glowing from inside.

"Very well Mandalorian," the woman turned on her heel and motioned for the two of you to follow, "we're pleased to see you and the little one again. You may stay as long as you'd like; let me show your quarters."

Hesitating for a moment, you watched as the two of them started to walk away, leaving you behind. All of this seemed so surreal - domestic, uncomplicated, and...free. It almost felt surreal and you were afraid it would all end up being a dream. Too good to be true - a taste of what your life could be. Maybe...maybe one.

"Sweet girl," perking up at the use of the almost sacred nickname you caught his gaze. Holding out his hand to you, it wasn't but a mere moment before you took it, nervously - tentatively - and let him pull you towards his body. And then softly, almost as if it was just the two of you and not a whole gaggle of people around you, Din leaned in, "keep up."

What was even going on anymore? Surely this had to be a dream...but then again the warmth of his hand in yours was tangibly real. This was actually happening.

»»————-　♡　————-««

"This is it, huh?" looking around the small cabin, you quickly decided that you liked it. It was quaint and cozy and warm - everything that the Crest wasn't. Definitely something you would appreciate for a week or two and definitely something you would miss as soon as you left. The little one had been busy with his old friends, and Omera had graciously offered to take him for the night. As much as you both loved him, it was nice to have a little bit of time to yourselves.

"Not to your liking, princess?" his hands were on his hips as he watched you closely. It was teasing - lilting and with a small tone of amusement. Shaking your head you turned to him and offered a small smile, "you'll be comfortable here. Better than the ship and it'll give you an opportunity to stretch your legs."

"I like it," you agreed, "its nice to slow down for a change. Who knew you had a heart and a brain after all, Din?"

"Very funny, brat," the way you tingled at his use of the word was enough to render you speechless. He paused for a moment, thoughtful and quiet, "I don’t hate you, you know."

"Huh?" your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden declaration and the doe eyed look on your face enough to make his own cheeks tinge with a pink flush. Once again he was eternally thankful for the beskar helmet. He slowly reached up and grabbed your chin between his fingers as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"I know I'm not always...the easiest to get along with," he all but whispered, "but I do appreciate you more than you know."

"Hmmm," your body was electric as his touch sent sparks down your spine, "I know, Din. I...fuck. I appreciate you too. I've been...thinking about you."

"Have you, naughty little thing?"

"Mhmm," you closed your eyes and keened into its touch, "ever since that night…"

"Then what do you want?" his voice was low - dangerous - as his hand tightened around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly. Your pupils were dilated, eyes practically black with lust as a small sound escaped your lips. How easy it would have been to give in and let him have his way with you, "tell me little brat. Use your words."

"You," it was almost a whimper as the heat pooled low in your belly and the delicious, tingling ache between your legs started. How easy that would be to let him use your for his (and your pleasure). Even within the thick haze of arousal, you reminded yourself of your promise.

He would be your good boy.

Almost out of nowhere, your hand was on his wrist, delicate compared to his large gloved one, and pulling him away from you.

"What are you-"

"I'm in charge, Din Djarin," you reminded him, a surge of confidence running through your blood as desire seeped into every fiber of your beating. Your heart was beating wildly as you anticipated his reaction, treading carefully to make sure you didn't overstep any boundaries, "I made a promise last time and I don't break promises."

He chuckled - a dark, delicious sound that sparked pure fire in your bones. Instead of a smart remark for once he...acquiesced.

"Tell me what you do want."

"Strip," you echoed his words from the last time you'd found yourself in this position, "and get on your knees."

"As you wish,” he pulled back and started to slowly peel off his gloves, his gaze trained on you the entire time. You felt like a shy maiden, rather than a woman about to make a grown man cry, as a flush rose up in your neck and face; but you didn’t shift your gaze away.

Din made a show of pulling off each piece of armor, bit by Beskar bit, in painfully slow manner. The cocky Mandalorian knew exactly what he was doing. As soon as he was left in his underclothes, you could see that his cock was already painfully hard and straining at his trousers. A sense of pride welled up in your chest as you realized you were the cause of it all. Keeping the helmet on for the moment, his large hands skimmed the hem of his shirt as you almost lost your patience and tore it off for him. Languidly, methodically, he left the shirt up and tugged it over his head, letting it fall with an unceremonious small sound to the floor.

He was beautiful - even more in the fading light of day than he had been in the dark. Tan, golden skin littered with freckles and scars came into view as your breath hitched in your throat. Maker. You bit your lip as he tilted his head to the side to gauge your reaction. Trying to play it cool, you motioned for him to continue his fingers trailed over the waistband of his pants. The dusting of dark hair that disappeared into his pants was enough to make your mouth water as you remembered the promise it held.

Din popped open the button and slowly unzipped his pants before tugging his pants down his legs and kicked them off along with his boots. Apparently you weren’t the only one getting impatient. Making a small, musing sound in the back of your throat you walked over to him, admiring his beauty - and his hard cock that was already leaking fat beads of pre-cum. Smirking, you trailed a hand down his warm skin, raking your nails over it as you pressed a few lazy kisses along his broad shoulders. You were almost positive that you could hear a small sigh leave his lips.

“You are beautiful, Din Djarin,” you murmured as you pressed featherlight kisses to his neck, noting that he swallowed thickly, “it’s a shame no one sees - but a privilege to have you at my mercy.”

Before letting him get a word in edgewise, you went over to the windows and made sure everything was tightly closed and curtains were drawn before turning off the bedside lamps. There was almost no light left in the small room, save for the candle near the door; just enough to get by but not enough to actually see anything. Flouncing back over to Din, his large, warm hands found purchase on your waist as you reached up and tentatively rested your hands on the side of his helmet.

“Do you trust me, Din?” you whispered, a far cry from how domineering you intended on being. His hands circled around your wrist as he offered you a soft nod. You lifted your hands up, along with his as you pulled off the beskar and gently set it down along with the rest of his armor.

When he was fully stripped, a sharp contrast to you being fully clothed, he immediately tried to crash his lips onto yours to kiss you; a hungry, feverish thing. You smirked against his lips before quickly pulling away and placing a finger on his lips and shaking your head, “no, no, no honey. Not yet.”

“Brat-”

“Hmmm,” your hands went to his shoulders as you pushed him down and onto his knees, “it seems to me like you’re the one not listening. Won’t you be a good boy, Din?”

Knowing what you wanted immediately, his hands went to your waist as he undid your pants and pushed them to the ground, helping you to step out of them. You knew normally he would have argued with you or something but today something was different; almost like you had him under some sort of spell.

“So beautiful,” he murmured as his hands ran up your thighs, stopping to paw at your bum and giving it a good squeeze, pulling a squeal of delight from your lips. He chuckled against your skin, placing kisses along your thighs and hips before working over to your mound. Running a finger through your already soaked folds, he gathered some of the your arousal before it in his mouth and sucking it clean, “like fucking candy.”

“Din,” it was a herculean task not to completely surrender control to him and have his face. He hummed in content as he nudged your legs further apart and you could feel his breath fanning against your warm, wet center. Carding a hand through his dark locks, you gently yanked his head away, “we don’t have to do this…”

“Tell me what you want, sweet girl,” he rasped as you nodded slowly, “I can handle it - whatever you want.”

His gentle reassurance was enough to get you back on your game as you brought his face to your core, where you were getting desperate for his touch, “eat it.”

Warm hands anchored themselves to your hips as he buried his face in between your thighs, licking up your soaked folds like a starving man. It was such an unexpected, pleasant rush that you almost lost your balance as you braced yourself against the wall. A small whimper escaped your lips as Din continued to lap at you, his aquiline nose nudged against your clit. For all the talents this man had, eating pussy was definitely one of them.

“Kriff,” it wasn’t long before your legs started to shake as the pleasure in your belly grew and grew and threatened to snap. He was not shy or soft spoken as he murmured filthy praises against your heat as he licked and suckled on your clit and folders before plunging his tongue into your velvety walls. He was quick to balance you as you almost staggered forward, “Din…”

“So good,” he praised as he reached up and added two thick fingers to his ministrations, curling them in a come hither motion as he quickly found your sweet - the one that made you see absolute stars. Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt nothing but warmth radiate throughout your body and pressed his face firmly against you. You felt the vibrations of his chuckle as he continued on, just a little further and harder until you were over the edge. A large hand had snaked up your body to cup and squeeze your breasts through your shirt as you keened into him.

This time you didn’t even bother to hold back your mewls and moan as you came all over his tongue and fingers. Making a sound of approval, he worked you through your orgasm until you were a shaking, whining mess above him. His name came off your tongue in reverence as he stabilized you and lapped up every last bit of your arousal.

“Maker,” you finally managed to catch your breath after a few minutes as you pulled out of his grasp and helped him to his feet. In the soft candlelight you could see your juices glistening on his face. Unable to stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck and crashed your lips onto his, kissing him in a fervent tangle of tongue and teeth. He responded eagerly, taking his time to taste you and explore your mouth as your wicked hands roamed his body. Din almost choked on a moan as you grabbed his weeping cock in your hand, coating it in the reminder of your wetness. A smile grew on your face as you pulled back and looked at him innocently, “good boy, Din. It must be painful, huh? To be this hard and have no relief? Do you want me to make it better?”

“Mouth,” it was a soft whisper - a plea, “use your mouth.”

“Hmm,” you mused as you continued to stroke his length, noting how he seemed to thrust into your hand more with each passing second, “I don’t know if you’ve earned that yet.”

A mess of sounds, guttural and visceral, met your arms as you played with him before massaging his balls just to push him as far as he could go. It wasn’t only before you felt him twitch in your hand and could hear the struggle as he tried not to come in your hand.

“Sweet girl,” he stammered out as he closed his eyes in bliss; but you beat him to the punch and pulled your hand away, creating a painstaking distance between your bodies. He hissed at the loss of contact and his orgasm as you ripped your shirt and bra off, letting the offending articles join the heap of his clothing, “fuck!”

“I told you that you hadn’t earned it yet,” you reminded him with a saccharine smile, “only good boys get to cum.”

“I am going to-”

“Get on the bed and lie on your back,” you insisted sharply. He huffed sharply before marching over and getting on top of the plush blankets. Looking around for a moment, you knew exactly what you were searching for, hoping you hadn’t misplaced the crimson silk fabric. After a few moments of digging, you made a small noise of triumph as you found the object of your affection. Walking back over with a sway of your lips, you displayed the fabric to him, “hands up and behind your head.”

“What are you doing?” it was a tone of wonder and amusement as you raised an eyebrow and hoped he was able to see it.

“You’re not allowed to use your hands,” you grinned as you stole a kiss before grabbing his wrists in your hands, “no touching, Din. Not until I say so.”

The Mandalorian - your Mandalorian - grunted as you threaded the fabric through the headboard and secured his wrists. It wasn’t necessarily a strong, tight hold, but it was enough to get your point across. No touching. Din could have easily broken through the thin fabric, but he wasn’t going to try again - he was going to be a good boy.

"What are you going to do sweet girl?" he asked as you spread your legs on either side of his hips, your wetness brushing the soft curls of his pubic hair. Grinning almost sinfully, you grabbed his jaw and turned his face towards, only making out the highs and lows of his features. Leaning down you kissed him, chasing after his lips with your own.

"Have my way with you," you whispered as you kissed the shell of his ear before working along his jaw and neck, making it a point to nip and suck at the delicate skin. And then, as you reached the hollow of his throat and placed a chaste kiss there, he practically whimpered, "oh, my sweet boy."

Din tugged lightly on the restraints, enough to shake the headboard slightly, but not enough to do anything. Shimmying down his body you tenderly touched and kissed every part of his body making sure each little freckle and mark and scar were given attention. The man practically melted under your touch; no one had ever given him this type of love and attention before. In the past it had all been either sloppy blowjobs or quick fucks; it had never mattered about him or the other person before, the only end game was release. But this...this was different. Delicate, gentle - caring.

Kissing along the V of his abdomen before nosing along his soft pubic hair, your raked your nails up and down his legs.

"When's the last time someone loved you, Din Djarin?" it was a hushed whisper, one you really expected an answer to you, but Din had almost inhumanly adept hearing - perks of a lifetime as a bounty hunter.

"Never."

"Well I do," it was an easy confession that startled both of you. You had meant it as both a I'm going to love you just now and I'm in love with you all at once. But that was something to be delved further into another time, "I do very much."

Before he could say anything else, you licked a long stripe up his shaft. His reaction was immediate as he bucked his hips up causing you to just push them back down. Laughing lightly, you tutted at him before taking him in your mouth - as much as you anyway. He was big and it did take some effort to get as much of him as possible.

It wasn't long before he was writhing under you as you licked and sucked him to an inch of his life. Making a point to hollow your cheeks and be noisy, you played with balls as you pushed him closer and closer to his release. Your mouth was already costing with your spit and his salty pre-cum and his cock twitched in your mouth. Just before he came, you pulled off of him and say back on your haunches watching his chest rise and fall rapidly.

"I was almost-"

"I know," it was a sticky sweet answer as you ghosted a hand over his body. Your hand found its way around his throat as you squeezed; more intensity than he had applied to you, but not enough to hurt, "tell me, sweet boy, are you going to let me sit on your face?”

“Use me,” he insisted as you kissed your way up his body and stopped at his lips and captured them in a searing kiss. His were perfect against yours - soft, full, and plush. Before getting too lost in his kiss, you positioned yourself over his face, and his eager hands tried to reach for you, only to find out that he couldn’t. A small groan of frustration left his lips as you grinned and ran a hand through his dark curls, “sweet girl.”

“Use your mouth, Din,” you braced yourself on the headboard as you lowered yourself down to meet his mouth. If you had thought he was eager before, you were sorely mistaken. The man in question lapped at your freshly soaked folds like it was the last thing he would ever do. His nose was perfect against your sensitive bundle of nerves as his tongue delved into you and caused you to cry out in pleasure. Seeming satisfied with his work, you felt him grin against you, his beard tickled you in all the best ways, “fuck. So good - so, so good.”

“Sweet girl,” he murmured against your skin as you felt yourself melt into a puddle of jelly. His praise along with this ministrations was enough to have you seeing stars as you closed your eyes and felt that familiar coil start to snap in your belly. Rocking against his face, he picked up his pace until you were just about to cum again, but instead of letting your orgasm fully wash over you, you pulled back and moved off of your face, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shock your head before kissing him, tasting yourself on his tongue, “you’re perfect. Want to cum on all over your cock, Din. Feel you inside of me.”

“Please,” he was practically beginning at this point; he was harder than he ever been and needed to be inside of you, “come on, sweet girl.”

Swinging a leg over his hips, you grabbed his hard cock and pumped him a few times before lining himself up at your entrance. Slowly sinking down on him, the two of you moaned in unison, as he stretched you fully and completely.

“Din,” his name was but a soft, reverent whisper off your lips as you put your hands on his chest and started to bounce at a slow pace up and down his cock. He felt perfect inside of you, hitting all the right spots as your clit rubbed against his pubic hair. He thrust his hips up to meet each of your bounces, pulling harder and harder at the bindings. You leaned down and wrapped your arms around his neck as you pressed your chest against his and kissed every part of him that your lips found, “so close - sweet boy.”

“Me too,” he agreed, his voice crackling and rough, “gonna cum inside you.”

“Yes,” you breathed as your warms started to contract around him and you felt him twitch within you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you buried your face into his neck, whimpering against his skin, “Din.”

“Sweet girl,” he so desperately whispered he could wrap his arms around but instead kept his hips as close to yours as possible, “so good - so perfect.”

You all but collapsed in his arms as you laid on top of him, the two of you working to catch your breath. Once you came down from your high, you kissed his nose, and slowly moved to undo the bindings and free him from his confines. As soon as his arms and wrists were free, he wrapped his arms around you and traced his fingers up and down your back in soft patterns. Relaxing into his arms, you sighed contentedly, “you can be a good boy, Din.”

“Only for you,” he whispered softly, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, “I...I love you, sweet girl.”

“Yeah?” you asked as you rolled over and next to him. He hesitated for a moment but then slowly confirmed with a soft nod, “good. I...I love you, Din Djarin. I have for a while.”

“I never...would have thought,” he murmured as he pulled into you his arms without even thinking - so easy and effortless. You eagerly complied, letting him pull you tightly against his chest as you tangled your legs with his. You weren’t sure what this all meant, or would lead to, but it was definitely something you could get used to.

“Really?” you laughed lightly, a musical wonderful sound that he adored, even on his grumpiest days, as you took his hand and brought it to your lips, and placed a tender kiss to his knuckles. How he hadn’t known was beyond you - it all seemed so obvious. Din made a small sound, “I thought it was so obvious. It was to me at least, honey. Even when we’re at each other’s throats - it was with love. Besides, I like when you get mad. It’s sexy.”

“You’re such a brat - my brat,” he buried his face into the pillow, but not before pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “you’re amazing.”

“You’re just saying that because I finally let you cum,” you teased as you felt your eyes getting heavy, “worth it.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a yawn, “but I’m getting you back for that next time. No hands? That’s just cruel.”

“Hmm,” you mused, “are we just going to keep taking turns? I could get used to that, Din.”

“I hope you do, sweet girl,” he murmured, “I hope you do.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

DTL Taglist: @sirianisrock @altarsw @letskeepthislo-ki

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #douse the lights #stutter something profound

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