#He should not be looking like a deer in the headlights when someone gives him a lukewarm compliment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

navybrat817 · 1 year ago

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Just Like That

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky suggests staying in a hotel together before an undercover mission, which would be fine if you didn't have a massive crush on the super soldier. Word Count: Almost 5k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, pining, flirting, slight possessive behavior, talk of undercover mission, "only one bed" trope, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: A combination of @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge and my Bucky Barnes Smut Menu, courtesy of @ellemj. "Only One Bed" Trope and the dialogue prompt in bold italics. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The engagement ring on your finger suited you. Not large or overly flashy, the single diamond radiated a subtle sparkle. It was beautiful and a perfect fit, a representation of the unifying love of marriage. When you looked at it under the light, it was almost as if you could feel the love that Bucky had for you.

If only that were the case.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” You asked, taking a seat at the table across from Bucky.

“So we can practice and make sure we’re a convincing couple,” he replied.

You sighed as you glanced around the hotel room for the umpteenth time. A small sitting area, a dining and kitchen combination, a single bathroom, and a bedroom. When you pointed out that there was only one bed, Bucky reminded you of the expectation that the two of you had to sleep together while on assignment since you were going on a couple's retreat. Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have a crush on him, right?

Right.

You were completely enamored with Bucky Barnes, the handsome former assassin turned agent for the revamped SHIELD. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.

Just the two of you.

“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”

“What? No. Bucky, you aren't terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty.”

“You're talking to a guy who hasn't been on a real date since the 40s,” he deadpanned.

He had a point. Plus, from what you understood, Bucky wasn't exactly interested in dating anyone. Every time Steve or Natasha suggested he go on a date, he found a way to brush it off or change the subject.

Even if he was interested in dating, did he think of you as anything beyond a colleague?

Taking this assignment may have been a mistake.

“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you said.

“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”

You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a week just to back to being coworkers after?

“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.

He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Bucky. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”

You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”

With an exhale, you recited, “We met at a coffee shop. We both ordered the same drink.”

“An iced caramel macchiato,” he said.

“And we reached for the drink at the same time,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”

“And I immediately asked you out,” he smiled.

Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “You did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went to dinner and talked a bit about ourselves. You told me you're a mechanic and I told you I’m a teacher. And once dinner was over, we went back to that same coffee shop and we shared an iced caramel macchiato.”

“Even proposed to you at the same shop,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.

The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.

Not that you had to do any acting on your part.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone.

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, it just would've been nice if we met at a coffee shop,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.

“What’s wrong with how we met?” He asked, crossing his arms.

The metal arm gleamed under the light. You noticed that he had a tendency to wear long sleeves and gloves whenever he was in the building, but seeing him with his sleeve pushed up and missing glove? You would almost say he was comfortable around you.

Again, he had to play the part right.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. “Do you not remember what happened or are you just being nice?” You asked.

Months ago, the day you met Bucky, Steve informed you that he planned to introduce you to him after he came back from a long assignment. Not only were you excited to meet one of his best friends and a great soldier, but you had wanted to make a good impression on him. What you did was make an ass out of yourself when you turned the corner only to smack right into the former Winter Soldier.

And splattered your beverage on both of you in the process.

Instacrush and a horrible impression on your part.

Bucky’s lips curled in a smile as your eyes widened. “You do remember,” you said, wadding up a nearby napkin and tossing it at his face, which he easily caught. “Oh, my God! That’s why you chose ‘coffee shop' for this, didn't you?”

You concentrated so much on getting the backstory right that it didn't occur to you that he was maybe poking fun at you. He wasn't the kind of guy that liked making others feel bad though. Tease you, sure. Outright make fun of you at the risk of hurting your feelings? He would never.

“Hey, I didn't choose how we met, but I also didn't object,” he said, raising his hands in surrender when you went to throw another napkin at him. “And I wouldn't forget meeting you, doll. You make a lasting impression.”

You wished you had done something to make him remember you besides spilling a drink on him. “I guess making an idiot out of myself is a lasting impression,” you teased.

Something dark flashed in his eyes, making your breath hitch. “That’s not what I meant. You didn't make an idiot out of yourself and I don't like you thinking that or talking down about yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, not used to someone getting so defensive at your self-depreciation. There was something sexy and heartwarming about it. “You were very nice about the whole incident.”

“You were nice, too,” he said, gesturing to his torso. “I mean, you offered to buy me a new shirt.”

“Because I spilled my drink on it! I felt bad,” you said.

“And when I said you didn't have to buy me a new shirt, you said, ‘Are you sure I can't pay for the dry cleaning at least, Sergeant Barnes?’” he said in a falsetto voice.

He chuckled when you rolled your eyes. “I don't sound like that, first of all, and I was being considerate,” you said. You couldn't believe he remembered your exact words. “And you just gave me that half confused smile of yours before I grabbed napkins for both of us to clean up.”

“You mean this?” He asked, his lips stretching in that familiar awkward grin.

“Yeah, that,” you giggled, your heart doing that funny flip that happened far too often around him.

In the beginning, whenever you smiled at him, he gave you that very look in return. Somewhere along the way, the uncomfortable glances on his end became genuine fondness. It didn't mean anything though.

Just an agent being kind to another agent.

Bucky stared at you as you continued to giggle at the memory. “I’m sorry. I just-”

“I love your laugh,” he said, almost making you choke on your own breath. Nothing like forgetting how to be a human and breathe. “And your smile.”

Maybe he had switched back into practice mode. “You do?” You asked, playing along as you smiled directly at him.

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice thick as he unfolded his arms. “You know, you're one of the people that actually smiles at me. And you look me in the eye when you talk to me.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Because some people are still afraid of me,” he whispered.

Your heart sank. He was a good man. A hero wrongly painted as a villain. It wasn't fair what he went through and you had no reason to fear him.

Why couldn't everyone else see the good in him?

“I’m not afraid of you, Bucky,” you promised. And after what he went through, frightening people was the last thing he would do. “Never have been. Never will be.”

“Maybe you should be,” he muttered, some of the light leaving his eyes.

Your eyes narrowed as you tempered the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Seeing this vulnerable side of him also brought out your protective instinct. “Listen to me. You’re amazing and a good man, okay? And if I don't get to call myself an idiot for spilling a drink on you, then you don't get to say I should be scared of you, Sergeant Barnes,” you said with an air of finality.

He gave you an impressed smile. “Just like that? Because those are totally different things you're comparing.”

“Just like that,” you said, putting your hand on the table for him to take if he wished. “Do you trust that I'll have your back on this mission? Because I trust that you'll have mine no matter what.”

He stared at your upturned hand for a moment before he took it. “You're one of the only people I do trust,” he admitted.

His eyes bore into yours as you tried to find the words to respond. He wasn’t feeding you a line to make you feel good about yourself. Bucky Barnes trusted you.

“Then trust me when I say we got this,” you promised. You would look out for him and let him know that he hadn’t misplaced his trust in you.

“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.

The switch in topic jarred you, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”

It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.

“I’m curious,” he shrugged.

“Oh. Well. My last boyfriend dumped me for being an agent. Seriously, he didn't like the fact that I could kick his ass if I wanted to,” you told him, squeezing his hand without meaning to. He didn’t object. “Which I wouldn't.”

“You could kick my ass if you wanted to,” he winked. Physically, Bucky was broad and strong. You weren’t sure you could take him in a real fight, but you could take him another way if he ever offered. “And your ex sounds like an asshole if he can’t stand beside and support an amazing woman.”

You smiled humorlessly. “Thanks, Bucky, but I’m not-”

“I swear to fuck if you talk down about yourself again, I will put you over my knee,” he threatened, his eyes darker than they were seconds ago.

You didn’t laugh as he stared at you. Neither did he. Your clothes suddenly felt too heavy, your body too warm. Licking your lips, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Is that a promise?”

Bucky pushed his chair back and pointed at his thigh, his eyes still on you. “Get over here and find out.”

Oh, fuck.

The sound of Bucky’s phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,” he muttered, taking his hand from yours. “It’s Steve. I better-”

“Yeah, you should answer that,” you said, almost knocking the chair over as you stood. “I think I'm going to call it a night.”

“Wait, what?” He asked, answering the phone. “Hold on, punk,” he said, covering the screen as he looked at you. “You’re going to bed now?”

Guilt settled in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. “Just going to lay down. I may not go to sleep right away. And we can practice more in the morning,” you replied. You just needed to step out of the room and take a breath.

He waited a beat before he nodded, the tension still lingering. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, leaving him alone so he could talk to Steve.

You splashed a bit of water on your face when you went to the bathroom to change. The assignment hadn’t started and you couldn’t keep your cool. With squinted eyes, you pointed at your reflection and mentally scolded yourself. Yes, you wanted Bucky Barnes and maybe, just maybe, some part of him wanted you. At least, he wanted you enough to put you over his knee.

You couldn't have him though. Could you? Mixing business with pleasure could lead to complications if you crossed that line, but it wasn’t like you’d break some major bylaw by being his girl.

Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

“Get your shit together,” you hissed, rushing through your nighttime routine and changing into your comfortable yet sexy nightgown.

Your eyes went to the bed when you left the bathroom. Just a regular hotel bed. Inviting, but not overly frilly. Large enough for the both of you, but small enough that you might end up in each other’s arms.

“It’s going to be a long night,” you muttered.

Sighing, you left a light on for Bucky to see and crawled into bed, shutting your eyes as he wrapped up his call with Steve. You tried to block out the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom. Maybe his nighttime routine would take a bit longer than you thought and you could drift off and wake up to the sight of his beautiful eyes and-

The bed dipped as Bucky curled up behind you, your eyes opening when he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. You were conscious of every shift in his body, every breath he took. How you could smell his lingering cologne as he pressed himself closer. How he ran warmer than you and you wanted him to heat you up even though you weren’t cold.

And that he wasn’t wearing a fucking shirt.

“I know you aren’t sleeping,” he whispered, his fingers brushing along the fabric that covered your skin. “Your heart’s beating too fast.”

He was right. It was about ready to burst through your chest. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?” He asked, helping you roll over so you were on your back. He didn’t remove his hand though. “Did my ‘threat’ make you uncomfortable?”

“No, it didn't,” you assured him, heat pooling between your legs that you couldn't prevent. “I wouldn't have continued with the banter if I was uncomfortable.”

“Just making sure,” he said. “I was only teasing.”

You huffed out a laugh in an effort to cover up the crushing feeling in your chest, your arousal fading to a dull ache. “Of course, you were,” you uttered. Teasing. Nothing more. “Good night, Bucky,” you said, turning your head away.

He brought a hand to your cheek and brought your face back toward him. How did his eyes look so blue in the faint light? “Don’t go to sleep yet, please.”

“Why not?”

“You rushed to bed and now you're shutting down. I clearly said or did something wrong,” he sighed, which made you feel bad. He hadn't done anything wrong in your eyes since it wasn’t his fault you wanted his teasing to mean something. “I need to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix because you didn't break anything,” you said, the ring heavy on the finger. “But can I ask for a favor?”

“Of course,” he whispered.

You didn’t dare search out his gaze when you said, “I may need reminders this week that you don't actually have feelings for me.”

A few seconds went by before he asked in a small voice, “What?”

You took a breath to compose yourself. The last thing you needed to do was get upset for no good reason. “We’re going to hold hands and cuddle and share a bed and be a couple, but you may need to give me a reality check now and again that you only see me as an agent. Okay?”

Maybe he’d ask Steve for a new partner in the morning.

“You think I only see you as an agent?” He asked, sighing when you nodded. “I used to be good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Teasing. Flirting,” he answered, leaning in close. He stopped just before his lips touched yours. “Kissing.”

“Wait. You were flirting with me?” you said, not moving forward or back as you put a hand on his chest. His heart raced as fast as yours. And your brain couldn’t compute that implication that he wanted to kiss you. “You weren’t just practicing for the assignment?”

He huffed out a laugh this time. “You’re killing me, doll,” he whispered, closing the distance.

You imagined Bucky kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered.

You never stood a chance.

“So, you like me?” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole week together for this assignment and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”

Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and trusting you.” He chuckled almost shyly as his words sank in. “I took this assignment because of you.”

A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Bucky Barnes liked you. Wanted you. “Thank fuck,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.

Like he wanted to own you.

His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.

Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.

You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.

“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”

You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the super soldier was an entirely different level of gorgeous. He towered over even the largest of agents, with the exception of Steve, and his dark lashes framing his steel eyes were enough to pull you under.

And who were you compared to him? Just another agent. Average.

“Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He smirked against your skin before he reached down and tore your panties away. “I haven't gone on a date because of you.”

Your body throbbed with need as you met his gaze. “You're just saying that to get in my pants,” you joked.

His eyes raked down your body, stopping between your trembling thighs as he pushed his pants and underwear down. “If I had my way, I would've taken you out first,” he said, drawing a moan from you when he wrapped a hand around his thick cock. “But all I can think about right now is how loud you’ll say my name when I make you come.”

“Bucky,” you moaned, tempted to reach down and touch yourself to the sight of him.

“Louder than that,” he said smugly, rubbing the tip of his cock along your slick folds. “Fuck, I wanna take my time and explore you. Make you feel like a goddess. Treat you the way you deserve.”

It warmed your heart and sent another wave of desire through you knowing he wanted to take care of you. “I know you'll treat me well,” you smiled, opening your legs wider. “But for now, please, fuck me.”

He didn't ask about birth control, which you were on. You didn't ask about condoms. It didn't matter. You wanted to feel all of him.

You glanced down as he lined himself up, watching as he slowly eased into you. It was overwhelming as you took every inch, your mouth falling open with a moan. You floated in a cloud of lust, the sound of his groan reaching your ears.

“Look at me,” he ordered as he bottomed out.

Your eyes flew to his as he gripped your chin. The feel of him inside you, his eyes staring so intently into yours that he practically touched your soul. It was almost too much. And that was when he began to move, the weight of his body on top of yours as he fucked you in slow and deep thrusts. It was the kind of lovemaking that would make you crave more.

Crave him.

“Knew you'd take me well,” he grunted. You whined, the praise going straight to your core as you tightened around his thick cock. Your walls couldn't stop gripping him as he slid in and out. “Knew your pussy would be greedy for me. Won’t let me go.”

Your head fell back against the pillow, dizzy as he trapped your body under his. As he rolled his hips, you wondered if he’d let you ride him at some point. Maybe he’d fuck up into you as he brought your hips down. Or maybe he’d lay back and cup your breasts, let the weight bounce in his hands as you took all of him.

You’d take whatever he gave you.

The growing pleasure within you was like you were burning from the inside out, each movement from him stoking the flames. His low groans mixed with your whines, his thrusts increasing in speed when he brought his thumb to your clit. Your hand worked its way back into his hair as you cried out his name, your control slipping further and further away as he took over.

“Just like that,” he moaned. “Don’t hold back on me. Wanna hear every pretty sound you make.”

“Bucky, I'm gonna…” you trailed off, your orgasm building fast in your core and ready to burst.

“Come,” he finished for you, a filthy smirk on his face as he laced his fingers with yours.

One more thrust and you were gone, his name falling from your lips as you came. Your mouth stayed open as you spasmed, pleasure rushing from head to toe. You panted and didn't care if you'd ever properly breathe again. That was how good it felt.

“I’m close, doll,” he gritted, resembling a growl as he continued to fuck you and chase his release. “Gonna come inside you. Gonna own you.”

“Come inside me, Bucky,” you begged, watching through half-lidded eyes as his face contorted in ecstasy. It was such an erotic sight. “Please.”

He buried himself deep with a long moan as he filled you in hot, thick spurts, nuzzling his face in your neck when he finished. He said your name as he heavily breathed against your neck and it was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You wrapped your arms around him when he stayed inside you, not at all bothered as your mixed release slowly trickled out.

You didn't want him to let you go.

“Well,” you huffed, a dopey smile on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I don't think we’ll have a problem convincing people we care about each other.”

He chuckled, kissing your warm skin. “And we won't have a problem sharing a bed,” he said, keeping you close as you yawned. “Sleep, doll. I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, too,” you said, feeling him smile against you as you drifted off.

The delicious ache between your thighs was the second thing you noticed when you woke up. The first, of course, was Bucky’s arm and leg draped over you: warm, protective, perfect. He was still fast asleep, the blanket pooled around his waist, completely at ease with the world. You could get used to waking up like this.

You hesitated before you touched his cheek, not wanting to wake him as you kissed his forehead. You wished you had time to kiss every scar on his body and worship him the way he said he wanted to worship you. The two of you would have to leave the bed sooner or later. There was work to do.

“Mmm. Morning,” he said, his voice laced with sleep as he cracked an eye open.

“Morning,” you whispered, cuddling closer as he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed over the ring. The motion made you brush against his crotch and you were close enough to hear the hitch in his breath. You did it again, keeping your gaze innocent as he opened his eyes more and groaned.

Yes, there was work to do, but it was still early.

“You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?” He teased.

“Yeah, I’m still horny,” you replied. Waking up next to him would arouse anyone. “Need you to fuck me again.”

“You won’t be able to walk if I fuck you again,” he smirked, rolling on top of you and digging his fingers into your waist.

“Should’ve known you’d be a cocky boyfriend,” you teased back, your heart thundering in your chest as he leaned down and skimmed kisses along your jaw. “Sorry, we didn’t put a label on this and there’s still stuff to figure out and the mission and-”

“Hey. Boyfriend, your man, whatever you want to call me, I’m yours,” he cut you off, his mouth drifting to your neck. “And I still owe you a date, got it? You’re my girl. You’re mine.”

“I'm yours,” you gasped when he nipped your skin hard enough to sting, his tongue soothing it after. You were his and he was yours. “So, we're a couple now? Just like that?” You smiled as he worked his way back to your lips.

Bucky answered you with a kiss. “Just like that.”

I struggled a bit with this one after having to scrap almost 2k and go in another direction, but I ended up falling in love with it. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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annewithaneofthegreengable · 9 months ago

Text

Instacrush

max verstappen x reader

Content warnings: unprotected sex (p-in-v), rough sex, dirty talk, language, daddy kink, pining, flirting, possessive behavior, one bed trope,...

Word count: almost 7k

Note: I'm gonna add a smau at the end so keep reading!

My masterlist

The engagement ring on your finger suited you perfectly. It wasn’t overly large or flashy, but the single diamond gave off a subtle, delicate sparkle. It was beautiful and felt just right, symbolizing the love and unity of marriage. When you looked at it in the light, you almost thought you could feel the love Max had for you.

If only that were true.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” you asked, sitting down at the table across from Max.

“So we can practice and make sure we seem like a real couple,” he replied.

You sighed, your gaze once again drifting around the hotel room. There was a small sitting area, a dining space connected to a kitchenette, one bathroom, and a bedroom. You had already pointed out the single bed, and Max, ever the professional, reminded you that part of the assignment meant you were expected to share it. After all, this was a couple’s retreat. It wouldn’t have been a problem—if only you didn’t have a crush on him.

If only it were that simple.

You were completely enamoured with Max Verstappen, the handsome three-time F1 World Champion. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was the first time you met him on your first day at work. You were so caught up looking around the paddock, so excited for your first time ever set foot in the land of speed. You were just an intern working in the social media department. Landing a job during the global economic recession was a dream come true for you, not to mention, working for such a big and top-tier team like Red Bull. And that’s where you bumped into him, his can of Red Bull splashed all over your new team uniform. And honestly, you didn’t remember much since you were busy looking staring at his eyes. The bluest eyes you have ever seen. It was like the water in the ocean in Maldives that you once saw in some travel magazines. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.

Just the two of you.

“What? No. Max, you aren't a terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty,” you said.

“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you added.

“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”

“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Max. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”

You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much-needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”

With an exhale, you recited, “We met at the track. Both slammed into each other. Both said sorry at the same time”

“And you gave me your hands for me to get up,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”

“And we immediately befriended at first,” he smiled.

Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “We did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went on that reserved dinner with the team and talked a bit about ourselves.”

It was all the truth, except for the fact that you guys were never more than friends since he was with Kelly, and you. Well, you were just you, there’s nothing really special about you for him to like. You aren’t those supermodels he used to date, nor have the skinniest body type, you are chubbier, with red hair and freckles across your cheeks. Before accepting his request to be in a PR relationship with him just so he gets along with the image of not being a notorious playboy who drives a fast car as an occupation, you did ask him WHY YOU? WHY NOT SOME OTHER GIRLS? AND LET’S BE HONEST ANY OTHER GIRLS WHO ARE PRETTIER WOULD DIE TO FILL IN THE JOB, SO WHY YOU? He just stood there looking at you once again with the deepest set of blue eyes that made your knees go weak, We are friends so this is what a friend should do, right? Help each other out. And y/n I really need your helping hands now.

“Even proposed to you at the same restaurant,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.

Not that you had to do any acting on your part.

The silence between you two was deafening, filled only by the sound of your own heart breaking. You longed for his words to be true, for him to truly want you as his girlfriend. But deep down, you knew it was all pretend. Your fingers fidgeted with the ring again, a constant reminder of the lie you were living. The weight of the situation was almost unbearable.

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, what a briliant story you have in mind,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.

“Well, it was true, y/n.”

You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional.

“Most of it only, Max. Anyway, enough of that. Let’s move on,”

Max looked unsatisfied with your response, his blue eyes searching your face. He could tell you were deflecting, which was both attractive and frustrating. “Okay then. How about we move on to the next part of our relationship? The first date.” He leaned back in his chair and you mimicked his movement.

“Ah, our first date,” you said, the memory bringing a smile to your face. “It was a classic dinner-and-a-movie type date, right?”

Max chuckled at your summation of your first date. “Yeah, it was pretty basic, but it was our first date,” he said, his voice low. “I wanted to keep things simple and focus on just the two of us. No fancy restaurants or anything like that.”

You recalled how nervous you were leading up to the date, spending hours trying to figure out what to wear and worrying about what to say. In hindsight, you didn’t need to have been so worried.

“But you looked beautiful that night,” Max continued, a small smile playing on his lips. “You always do.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart quickened at his compliment. How was it that Max Verstappen, F1 World Champion, and certified heartthrob, could say something so casually that made you feel like the most beautiful woman alive?

“Thanks, Max,” you said, your cheeks starting to heat up. You twisted the ring on your finger, your nervous habit making its appearance. “You looked pretty good yourself, if I remember correctly.”

Max chuckled softly, his eyes fixated on your hand. “Are you nervous, Schatje?” he teased, a playful sparkle in his blue eyes. “You’re fiddling with your ring again.”

Your cheeks flushed even more. You should be used to his teasing by now, especially after the time you two had spent together recently while preparing for this PR mission. And yet, every time he called you darling, your heart would do somersaults in your chest.

“No, I’m not,” you denied, knowing how unconvincing you sounded. “Just… practicing my part, you know. For the acting thing.”

Max’s eyes darkened slightly as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the armrest. He knew that you were avoiding something, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

He began to recite the next bit of their cover story. “What’s our favorite couple activity?”

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the mention of couple activity. "Well," you began, your voice shaky, "our favorite couple activity is definitely cooking together. It's a great way for us to bond and spend quality time together."

“Well it must be you will be the chef and I’m your assistant then, since I couldn’t even boil an egg to save my life, Liefje.”

Max's self-deprecating comment took you a little by surprise. You were used to seeing him as the confident, world-class athlete on the track, not as a hopeless cook in the kitchen.

You chuckled softly at his admission. "Well, I guess you'll have to stick to being my sous-chef then. I can teach you a thing or two in the kitchen."

Max groaned exaggeratedly. "I suppose I'll have to stick to fetching the ingredients and looking pretty," he joked.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his remark, unable to stop yourself from smiling. "Yes, you can be the pretty one, Max. I'll do all the hard work in the kitchen."

He chuckled, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips. "Well, I guess I should be thankful that I have a gorgeous girl doing all the cooking for me, then."

His compliment left you feeling warm and tingly, but you tried to brush it off and stay focused on the task at hand.

"But you have to promise me one thing, Max," you insisted, trying to maintain your composure. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for your condition. "What's that, Schatje?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You leaned forward a bit, your eyes meeting his. "You have to be my personal taste tester. Gotta make sure everything is just right."

Max chuckled at your condition, a smirk playing at his lips. "Ah, so I'm not only your sous-chef, but I also get the privilege of being your taste-tester?" he teased.

You nodded, a sly smile of your own on your lips. "That's right. You'll be my human guinea pig. No complaining, just eating." Max groaned dramatically, pretending to look disappointed.

Despite his initial reluctance, Max couldn't help but smile at your cheeky request. "Okay, okay, I'll be your taste-tester on one condition," he countered.

Your curiosity piqued, you asked, "And what's that?"

Max leaned forward, his eyes meeting yours, "You have to give me one of your special desserts afterward."

You laughed, surprised at his audacity. "Oh, now you're pushing it, Verstappen," you quipped. "But I suppose I can throw in a dessert for you, as a token of my appreciation for your taste-testing services."

Max leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. "Deal," he said, a playful grin on his face. "Let's hope your cooking skills are as good as your baking, Liefje."

“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.

The switch in topic jarred you. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”

It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.

“I’m curious,” he shrugged.

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to answer. Truth be told, your life was dominated by work, leaving little time for relationships. But if you explained that to Max, he'd probably just call you a workaholic and laugh. He was the epitome of work hard, play just as hard.

"I don't know," you finally said, trying to sound casual. "I guess I just haven't found the right person."

Max scrutinized you but didn't press the topic further. Instead, he took a sip of his water, his eyes never leaving your face. Max wasn't buying your nonchalant attitude. He leaned back in his chair, still watching you closely. "I don't believe you. You're a beautiful woman, and yet you're single."

The compliment caught you off guard. Coming from Max Verstappen, the three-time FIA Formula One World Champion, it was a lot to take in. Trying to keep your cool, you retorted, "You don't have to flatter me, Max. I know I'm not some supermodel or something."

Max's lips curled up into a sly smile. He leaned even closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Who said anything about comparing you to a supermodel?" he teased.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his proximity. He was even more attractive up close, with his sharp features and those intense blue eyes. Despite your best attempts to keep your cool, you found yourself blushing again.

"Come on, Schatje," Max said, his voice dropping an octave. "Just tell me why you don't have a boyfriend."

The intensity in Max's eyes was almost overwhelming. You fidgeted nervously in your seat, feeling increasingly flustered under his gaze. Why was he so insistent on this topic? You tried to come up with a witty retort, a clever way to deflect, but your mind was drawing a blank. His intense gaze made it hard to think straight. "It's not a big deal, Max," you finally managed to say, your voice betraying your growing nervousness.

"Bullshit." He leaned back in his chair, studying you once again. "You're avoiding the question. There must be a reason why you don't have a boyfriend."

Max's persistence made you feel inexplicably flustered. He was so adamant about knowing the reason behind your single status. You wracked your brain, trying to come up with a convincing answer that wouldn't give away your secret. But the more you fidgeted and avoided his gaze, the more he seemed to be onto you. "Come on, y/n,” he coaxed again, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his legs. "Just give me a straight answer."

Max's smirk widened as he saw the effect he was having on you. He could tell he was making you nervous, and that only made him more determined to get the answer he wanted. "You're making this even more suspicious, you know," he said, his voice laced with gentle mockery. "The more you avoid the question, the more interested I become."

There was something about the way Max said that that sent a shiver down your spine. Was he just teasing you, or was there a hint of genuine interest in his voice? It was hard to tell. "You're relentless, you know that?" you mumbled, trying to cover your nerves with sarcasm.

Max chuckled, clearly enjoying how much he was getting under your skin. "I can be very persistent when I want something."

Max's admission sent a flutter through your stomach. He was relentless in his pursuit of an answer, and it was both frustrating and exhilarating. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "And you always get what you want, don't you?" you retorted, aiming for a tone of sarcasm.

Max chuckled at your attempt at sarcasm. He seemed unfazed as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixated on you. "I do, usually," he agreed. "But you're proving to be quite the challenge, y/n."

He took in your flushed cheeks and shifting eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

Max's gaze seemed to pierce through you, reading your every reaction. "You're blushing like a schoolgirl, Schatje," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

His observant nature was both impressive and irritating. You tried to compose yourself, to appear unfazed by his words. But the more he teased, the more flustered you became.

The sound of your phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,” you muttered, “It’s Christian. I better-”

“Yeah, you should answer that,” he said, “I think I'm going to call it a night. It was simply lovely to have such a conversation with you, Lief”

You watched as Max stood from the table, a smirk still tugging at his lips as he stretched his arms over his head. The way his shirt pulled tight against his muscles didn’t escape your notice, but you quickly turned your focus to your phone. Christian’s name flashed on the screen, a reminder that despite the playful teasing and lingering tension, you were still on assignment.

Clearing your throat, you answered the call, doing your best to sound professional. “Hey, Christian. What’s up?”

Max lingered by the doorway to the bedroom, his blue eyes still watching you as he leaned casually against the frame. The man was frustratingly calm and composed, as if he hadn’t just spent the last several minutes flustering you beyond belief.

“Just checking in. Wanted to make sure everything’s running smoothly with you and Max,” Christian’s voice came through the speaker.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you replied, glancing at Max again. He raised an eyebrow, clearly hearing the conversation. “We’re just going over the cover story. Making sure we’re on the same page for tomorrow.”

“Good, good. Remember, we need you two to look convincing as a couple. This retreat is high-profile, and we can’t afford any slip-ups. Play the part, but don’t overdo it,” Christian said.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Got it. We’ll be convincing.”

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, you ended the call and set your phone down, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Max was still standing in the doorway, his gaze soft but unreadable.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost concerned.

“Yeah,” you replied, though your heart still raced from the earlier tension. “Just… trying to make sure I don’t mess this up.”

Max pushed himself off the doorframe and took a few steps closer to you. “You won’t. You’re doing great, Schatje. Better than I expected, actually.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—there was more behind his words than simple encouragement. But you couldn’t afford to let your hopes get the better of you. This was a job. Nothing more.

“Well, I guess I should get some sleep too,” you said, standing up from the table. “Big day tomorrow.” Max nodded, his eyes flicking briefly to the bed in the other room. “Right. About the bed…”

You froze, realizing that you had been so caught up in the conversation earlier that you hadn’t given the sleeping arrangement much thought. But now, with the two of you standing there in a hotel room alone, the reality of sharing a bed with Max Verstappen hit you like a freight train.

“I can take the couch,” he offered quickly, sensing your hesitation.

“No, Max. It’s fine. We’re supposed to be a couple, right? Couples share beds.” You tried to sound confident, but your voice wavered slightly.

Max’s lips quirked into a small smile. “True. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You shook your head, summoning what little courage you had left. “I’ll be fine. It’s just sleeping. No big deal.”

Max didn’t argue, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something unreadable. He gestured towards the bedroom. “Ladies first.”

You swallowed hard and walked towards the bed, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Max followed close behind, and as you both climbed into the bed, the space between you felt like an ocean. You were hyper-aware of every movement, every breath.

Max lay on his back, one arm resting behind his head, while you kept to your side, facing away from him. The silence was thick, the air filled with unspoken thoughts.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, Max,” you replied, your voice tight with nerves.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall asleep. But the warmth of Max’s body next to you, the steady rhythm of his breathing—it was all too distracting. You tried to push the thoughts away, reminding yourself that this was all pretend. That Max Verstappen didn’t see you as anything more than a colleague helping him out.

But as the minutes ticked by, sleep continued to evade you, and you couldn’t help but wonder—what if?

What if this wasn’t just pretend? What if Max felt the same pull, the same unspoken connection that you did? What if, somewhere in the midst of this fake relationship, something real was beginning to bloom?

You shook your head at the thought, frustrated with yourself for even entertaining such a ridiculous idea. Max was a superstar, a world champion, and you were just… you.

But as you lay there, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing beside you, it was hard to ignore the tiny spark of hope flickering in your chest.

Maybe—just maybe—there was more to this story than either of you realized.

You shifted slightly in bed, careful not to disturb Max, who was still lying quietly beside you. You glanced over at him, only to find that his eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.

"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly, turning his head to look at you.

You shook your head, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze. "Too much on my mind, I guess."

Max smiled faintly. "Same here."

There was a brief silence between you, and in the quiet of the night, it felt like the weight of unspoken words was suffocating. You wanted to ask him if this was all just a game to him, if he felt the same tension you did, but you were too afraid of the answer.

Instead, you settled for something safer. "Do you ever get tired of it? The pressure, the constant spotlight?"

Max turned his head fully towards you, his expression thoughtful. "Sometimes. It’s part of the job, though. I’ve learned to live with it. But yeah, there are days when it gets overwhelming."

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "I get that. It’s hard to find balance when the whole world is watching."

Max's eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like the walls between you two were crumbling. "Yeah. But it’s not all bad, you know? There are people who make it easier."

You looked at him, your heart fluttering at the implication of his words. Was he talking about you? Or was this just part of his charm?

Before you could respond, Max shifted closer, closing the small gap between you. His proximity made your heart race, and you held your breath as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"You make it easier, y/n," he whispered, his voice low and sincere.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was no more pretending, no more acting for the sake of the mission. It was just the two of you, lying in the dark, and suddenly, it felt like everything you had been holding back was on the verge of spilling over.

"Max," you whispered, your voice trembling as you struggled to find the right words.

But before you could say anything more, Max leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. You imagined Max kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered. You never really stood a chance before him.

“So, you like me? Was that why you kissed me, or, ” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole acting and pretending thing ahead and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”

Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and teasing you.” He said. “You know Kelly dumped me because I remembered your coffee order when we were at the hospitality not hers,”

You stared at Max in shock, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. Kelly dumped him over... you?

"You remembered my coffee order?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max chuckled softly, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek as he held your gaze. "Yeah," he replied. "Every single time. It wasn't something I planned to memorize, but I guess I couldn't help it. You’ve always been in the back of my mind, even when I didn’t realize it." You blinked, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of emotions. All the late-night conversations, the teasing, the moments when his touch lingered a little longer than necessary—it all clicked into place. He wasn’t just playing a part. He liked you. Max liked you.

"You really are an idiot," you said with a breathy laugh, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. The tension between you two, the unspoken feelings, had been weighing on you for so long, but now everything felt so clear.

Max grinned, his face inches from yours. "Takes one to know one," he teased, his lips brushing against yours again.

You leaned into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back. This time it wasn’t tentative or cautious. It was everything you had been holding back, all the feelings you had suppressed because you thought it was just part of the job, part of the act.

But this was real. You were real.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. Max’s forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your hands.

"Guess we’re going to have to make this mission even more believable now, huh?" Max murmured, his voice filled with that same teasing warmth.

You smiled, biting your lip as you looked up at him. "We might have to practice a little more, just to make sure we’re convincing enough."

Max laughed, a sound that sent warmth coursing through your veins. "I think we can manage that."

A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Max Verstappen liked you. Wanted you. “Please do,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

Like he wanted to own you.

His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.

Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.

You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.

“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”

You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the driver was an entirely different level of gorgeous. “Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth, suckling gently as his hands continued to explore. You writhed beneath him, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. "Please,"

He chuckled, the vibration making your breast hum in his mouth. "Please what, baby?" He asked, his free hand moving to your other breast, pinching the nipple gently. You whimpered, your hips bucking against the floor. "Please touch me, please kiss me, please fuck me,"

“You are such a needy baby,”

"His hands slid down your sides, gripping your thighs and spreading them apart. He settled between them, his breath hot against your core. "You want me to touch you here?" He asked, his fingers gently caressing your folds through your underwear."

“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He paused, lifting his head to look at you with a mix of confusion and realization. "Because of me?" He asked softly. "Because I'm always around, and no one else can compare?" He slid a finger underneath the fabric, touching you for the first time.

His finger traced your slit, gathering your wetness before pushing inside gently. You let out a sigh of relief, your hips tilting to meet his finger. "Is that it? Is that why you don't have a boyfriend?" He asked, curling his finger inside you, rubbing your g-spot.

“Y-yes… It's you, has always been you, Max.” you gasped.

He added another finger, pumping in and out of you slowly. His voice was low, filled with a dominance you'd never heard from him before. "So, every time you went on a date, every time they kissed you, it was me you thought of?”

His fingers moved faster, curling and rubbing against your g-spot. "And every time they tried to touch you, hold your hand, it was my hand you wished was there instead?" He asked, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. "Is that it, baby?”

But what can you say more besides moaning at his touch.

He grinned wolfishly, his eyes locked onto yours. "You can't speak because you're so turned on, thinking about me instead of them. Isn't that right?" His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing circles onto your swollen nub. "Say it.”

But you’re not thinking straight. You’re not thinking straight at all when all he did was teasing you like that.

He growled, his face hovering over your core. "Say it, or I'll stop." His fingers paused, buried deep inside you. You squirmed, your hips bucking, silently begging him to continue. "Say it," he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

“Max” you breathed, clenching your legs together.

He tsked disapprovingly, prying your legs apart with his broad shoulders. "Not until you say what I want to hear." His golden eyes bore into yours, filled with desire and determination. "Say, 'Only you, Max. Only you.'" His fingers remained motionless.

“Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.”

His expression softened, and he rewarded you by moving his fingers again, crooking them inside you. "Good girl," he praised, his voice gentle. "Now, wrap your legs around my shoulders. I'm going to make you come with my mouth.”

You eagerly wrapped your legs around his shoulders, locking your ankles behind his neck. He lowered his face between your thighs, his breath hot against your wet flesh. "You're so ready for me, baby," he murmured, his thumbs spreading you open. "So swollen and needy.”

And without further teasing, he pressed his lips to your clit and sucked. Hard. His fingers curled inside you again, hitting that perfect spot. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. "Oh god oh god oh god,"

Max smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue. "Feel good, baby?" he breathed. His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions. You didn't know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Max flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking. "You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?" His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the sheets and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside.

The act surprised your lover almost as much as it did you-not quite, but almost -upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him. When you whined a loud, protracted, 'FUCK!' he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this. Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Max knew you were close. He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else's. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

"Come on my face, Liefde. Show me what a good girl you are.”

And suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his head you feared you might snap it in two.

He slowly licked you clean, his gaze never leaving yours. "You taste even better than you look," he murmured, a slow smirk spreading across his face. He leaned in close, pressing his forehead to yours. "And you look... like a masterpiece.

You took his face in closer and sucked your arousal off his tongue. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his, where your juices had no doubt collected too. That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Max could’ve wanted.

Max's eyes widened in surprise as you sucked his face clean, his hands instinctively coming up to hold your head in place. He groaned into your mouth, his own arousal spiking at the filthy, careless way you were using your tongue.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth to explore and taste every inch of it. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer against him, letting you feel the hard length of his cock pressed up against you.

“I need to fuck you now,” he said.

His voice was rough with desire, his patience worn thin. He reached between your legs, grabbing your thigh and tossing your leg over his shoulder. He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. "Hold on, Schatje,"

He slammed into you with no warning, burying his cock deep inside your pussy in one brutal thrust. You cried out in surprise and pleasure, your walls clenching around him as he fills you completely. He grabbed your other thigh, holding you in place as he started pounding into you with ruthless intensity.

“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”

You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Max kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his dick wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,

“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”

“My perfect fucking Schatje, so good at taking my cock.”

Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Max wanted you.

"Shit, you were made for this, weren't you baby? Made to take my load." He's so lost in the way you whine, telling him he's right and he knows it when he feels the way your body clenches and flutters around him.

He pistons his hips, fucking you with abandon, his balls slapping against your ass with each brutal thrust. He reaches up to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly as he snarls in your ear. "Gonna fill this fucking pussy up with my cum, mark you as mine.”

His grip on your thighs tightened as he continued to pound into you, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. "Not till I say so, baby. You gonna wait for me, aren't you?" He grunted, his own release barreling down on him.

“Daddy, faster, please, harder, feels so good!” You were practically sobbing, loving the way he was splitting you open.

“I'm Gonna cum, daddy! Can I cum?” Max practically growls, not missing a beat while still thrusting in you.

He grunted approvingly at your desperate pleas, his face contorting with effort as he held back his own release. "Not... till... I... say... so..." He punctuated each word with a powerful thrust, his voice harsh with command. "Look at me, baby. Look at me when you beg."

You preened, the walls of your pussy clenching around his length. “Please, daddy.”

“Jesus, you’re making me so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.��

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

His face contorted with pleasure as you finally gave him what he wanted. "Good girl," he hissed, his pace becoming frenzied as he finally let himself go. "You're gonna take it all, aren't you? Gonna take every last drop?"

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-you-daddy-I'm gonna-"

“ I’m 'yours sweet girl, all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum daddy" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Max right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair now disheveled.

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course Liefje" Max presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

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yourusername first day at work, welcome to the playground - newbie.

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user1 what a dream job 😭

user2 I wanna be there toooooo 😭

urfriend my baby's dream finally came true

yourusername wish me luck bestie

user4 what is your job?

yourusername i'm the new intern in social media for RBR

liked by redbullracing, yourusername, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 3,962,028 others

maxverstappen1 this new (intern) social media manager has me doing all sorts of weird things, apparently the fans like me doing this…I’m yet to be convinced 😂 might need a long nap after this.

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username12 fyi we absolutely love photos like these 😂

landonorris I nearly fell off my chair laughing after scrolling through this post 😂😂😂

username13 thank you the new intern for convincing max to bless us with a world of meme worthy content, i beg for more

username14 he has no idea how much we love seeing this side of him does he???

username15 pls promote ur new intern to be ur lifelong admin @/redbullracing

redbullracing let me ask my boss first ferrari we still have open position for the new intern, wanna join? redbullracing back off mercedesamgf1 or u can work for us instead, why be an intern when u can be our new admin for a very demure, very mindfull team! username16 are they battling for the new intern 😂 username17 on track and offtrack battle

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 26,882 others

yourusername life lately as the new intern at @/redbullracing

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username18 so u r the new intern that blessed us with so much max's meme

yourusername no need to tks me 🤗 username18 u r so pretty, might be my new wife

username19 oooooh max's in the like

username20 aww so cute

username3 the outfits slay

landonorris uhhh

username21 WHAT ARE YOU EOING HERE maxverstappen1 she's not on ur team, mate landonorris so i can not say hello to her ???

yourbff you are so effortlessly gorgeous please 😫 and whose hand is that wifey

username22 wtf is max and lando beefing in the comment

username23 shut the f up she's a swiftie OMG i need a challenge with max and checo with taylor

yourusername working on it, but these two know nothing 'bout the pop culture 😭 username24 OMG the devil works hard but u gotta work harder girl

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redbullracing Taylor Swift 1 - 0 Chestappen

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maxverstappen1 do not shame ur drivers publicly like that

redbullracing we do not 🤗 landonorris how can they not know about THE TAYLOR georgerussell63 i would have won this charlesleclerc if the ferrari's challenge could be this easy

username30 they cant even score a point

username31 OMG Chestappen

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f1wags new wag alert!!! This might be the new gf of Max and she also works for Red Bull too

username32 OMG is she y/n the old intern now admin

f1wags that's her

username33 i follow her too and she is soooooooo pretty

username34 her new ideas for all their challenges are cool too

username1 😒😒

username2 BOOOO👎

username3 so it’s official then huh?

username13 BODY IS TEAA

username24 HOLYYY

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maxverstappen1 i think this called hard launch and yes this is my new gf @/yourusername took all the pics since she thought i'm not very good at it

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dorealis · 4 months ago

Text

Series Title: Pound of Flesh

<-pt.1 pt.2 pt.3->

Summary: Simon has always wanted something soft to call his. The problem is that he's always had issues with women. When he stumbles across a dark website that traffics people, he knows he should tell someone. But that thought goes out the window when he sees her.

Content Warning: non-con. Reader is a trafficking victim. Stockholm Syndrome. Simon is not a good man here.

Simon is almost certain that his Lovie hates him. She cries a lot and shies away from him. She won't look at him, and she has picked up the habit of screaming bloody murder when he touches her. He knows it must be scary being ripped away from everything and everyone that she knows. He chalks it up to it being a symptom of homesickness. Maybe she's just scared and her feelings are too big for her.

No matter. He can relate. He too has been a victim of feelings that are too big for his own body. He wants her to want to be near him. Wants her to seek him out on her own. So he turns the heat completely off in his home. He's been in freezing temperatures before, dealt with frost bite, shivering bones and harsh angles since his childhood. When he breathes, nothing but frost expells from his lungs. He's always known cold, ice even, and is comfortable with the numbness that accompanies it.

His Lovie, unfortunately, is not acclimated to such harshness.

She's shivering and the thin and short tee-shirt he gave her only stops just below her chest. Arms wrapped around herself, trying to self soothe or keep warm. He thinks it's cute, precious how she rocks back and forth. He has her perched on the couch, and he sits down next to her, legs spread out so that his thigh touches hers. The flinch she gives off melts into another shiver.

"Simon...I'm cold." Her teeth chatters on her words. Those sweet and dangerously attractive doe eyes get turned to him. "Can I at least put on pants?"

"Did you earn the privilege of pants?" He says to her. "You've been on your worst behavior all day."

She doesn't say anything and just rubs her arms. Tears, his second favorite part of her, spring into her eyes. He loves when she cries, it does something to him. The sight stirs the blood in him and makes his cock hard and already he can feel himself chubbing at the sheer thought of tasting her tears. He prompts her to answer with a raised brow.

"No sir...I haven't." She whimpers.

"What are you willing to do to earn your warmth?"

Her eyes widen in shock. Body trembles as she forces out her next question, "I don't understand."

He chuckles and pulls her into his lap, another thing he likes to do. He enjoys just moving his Lovie whenever he wants, however he wants. She naturally fights him and stills like a deer in headlights when she feels his cock pressed against her. He watches her breathing pick up, her chest heaving hard, on the verge of panic.

"You're such a little dummy." He kisses her temple and the grips the back of her neck. "It's okay, I normally hate having to explain things, I do that all day at work." He nips at her earlobe and she draws in a sharp gasp, she squirms. "You just have to be trained is all. The more you love on me, the more I will give you."

She stares into his eyes, horror etched on to her face. She's weighing her options, he can see it in how she shifts her eyes away from him. "You- you promise?" Such a small and sweet voice. Everything about her sweet and he could eat her alive. Swallow her whole, crack her bones wide open and drink the marrow. Consume her, devour her, infuse her soul into his.

She doesn't know it but yet, but he is utterly enchanted by her. In love with her since the day he saw her photo on that site. Enamored by the way the camera had caught her in just the right light, her hair a halo on her head, smile brighter than the sun itself. When he reached out about her that night in the world's most shadiest chat room, he was given a price and asked if he wanted her delivered or if he wanted her corralled for him to hunt. He obviously chose to hunt her, all he had to do was give the preferred venue and everything would be set into motion.

"Will I get to have pants and a blanket?" She asked him, pulling him from his thoughts, "I'm cold."

"This isn't a two for one sale Lovie." He glances down at her chest and see her nipples are hard and poking through the fabric.

Lovie takes a deep breath and she places her soft hands on his cheeks. She's crying again, but it's not the hysterical crying, it's the adorable silent type. With a lick to her lips, she leans in, eyes sliding shut and presses her lips to his. It's the first kiss she initiates, and it makes Simon's heart skip a beat. The kiss is gentle and a bit clumsy, and he loves it. His hands drift down to her hips and gives them a squeeze in encouragement.

But it's not enough. The sick monster in him is growling. Maw opening in a twisted stretch, itching to snatch more than what his sweet Lovie is giving him. He holds back though and tries his best to kiss her back in the same fashion. He isn't sweet, he's more like vinegar that's soured, and he's surprised that she hasn't jumped back in disgust. All too soon she pulls away and looks pleading.

"What does that get me?"

He smiles, "It gets you shorts."

She closes her eyes and slowly trails her hands down the plains of his chest towards the drawstrings of his sweats. He watches the fine tremble of her hands. His Lovie is so shy, meek, it's a wonder she lasted so long in life without him.

"Your mouth gets you pants. Cunt will get you a blanket. So both and you get both. Your ass gets the heat turned back on for the night." He explains as she pulls his cock out and holds it. There's already pre-cum pearling at the tip and he's enjoying how he feels in a hand that has never known hardship. "Well Lovie?"

She slips off of him, settling between his legs, and moves to place her lips on the red and rudy tip of his cock. He grips her jaw though and gives her stern look, "You bite and I break your jaw." He smiles sweetly at her but it comes off menacing.

Lovie nods once and kisses the tip before sliding her mouth onto him. He knows it must be uncomfortable for her jaw, the stretch too much. But the inside of her mouth is warm and wet, almost as good as her cunt. He sighs and places his hand on top of her head and encourages her to take more into her mouth. She does her best, the soft sound of her choking makes him groan.

"You're okay Lovie, you're doing fine." He restrains himself from fucking up into her mouth. He imagines breaching her throat and feeling her panic and jerk trying to breathe. Sucking in a sharp breath, he relaxes as her hand squeezes the base of his cock lightly. It makes him shiver in anticipation.

Lovie pulls back and plunges herself down again and he helps along, finding a rhythm that he likes and that she can maintain. Watching his love, his girl pleasure him through lidded eyes almost makes him blush. The way she sucks and her cheeks pucker up on each pull, makes him twitch. Her spit begins to drip out of the corners of her mouth and it's a bit messy and he likes it. Without warning he bucks his hip and she gags trying to pull away.

"Look at me sweetie." He rasps. He wants to see her eyes, and Jesus fuck. With the angle she looks up at him, the dried tear tracks on her face and her still watery eyes, he loses his patience. She yelps when he grips her hair tightly and yanks her off. He's on his feet and shoving his cock harshly back into her mouth. Panicked hands swat at his thighs as he forces all of him down her throat. It's just as he though it would be.

Tight. Warm. Euphoric.

He fucks her mouth like it's her cunt. Suffocating her when his wiry hairs meet with her nose. She's crying again, fat crocodile tears streaming down her cheeks. When she clamps her eyes shut, he jostled her head.

"Eyes open, look at me." He pants out. She complies and it's everything he didn't know he needed. "Fuck, good Lovie, good girl."

There's vibration in the back of her throat from the muffled crying. The tip of his cock feels it and that sensation zips and zaps up his spine. It's going to Pavlov him into getting hard whenever she cries and it's really her fault. It will be her fault when every little thing she does makes him insatiable.

But it'll be a feedback loop.

He'll train her, her mind, and her body, to crave him just as much. Every little need she has, will be linked intrinsically to him. She wants to be warm? She will look for him for warmth. She wants a little bit of comfort? Her first instinct will be to present herself to him like a bitch in heat. She wants something that he considers to be a luxury and a privilege? She will be wet and dripping at the thought of doing whatever to have it.

Simon can't wait, and he knows he's going right to hell for this, but he's ecstatic for when she wants comfort and love. When she wants that she will seek him out.

Lovie gags and whimpers as he pistons out of her mouth. His pace is feverish as he squints down at her through his lust induced haze. She looks like an absolute doll like this. Her slaps against his thighs have lessened and she grips onto the fabric of his sweats tightly. Desperate to hold on, and the sound of her struggling to breath even through her nose is too precious. He has her very being in his hands and it makes his need for control thrum wit satisfaction.

"Oh Lovie, my sweet Lovie, youre too sweet to me." He grunts and shoves his cock impossibly far down her throat. She won't taste his cum this way but he doesn't mind. There will be other times for her to savor the taste of him, to memorize it. He feels her throat and body tensing as he cums. The pure idea of all of his spend collecting in her stomach makes him twitch. He grinds his hips into her face, basking in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He guides her mouth off of him carefully. She coughs and breathes deeply, trying to get as much air into her lungs as possible. She sniffles and stares up at him, the look is pure heaven. She seems as if she's ashamed of her actions. He can't let her feel that way.

"Oh Lovie, you sweet sweet thing." He wipes some of the drool from her lip. "You did such a good job."

Her voice is raw, "Can I have my pants now?"

"Sure Lovie." He said as he put himself away, his mind already thinking about what elese he withhold from her. He takes off his sweats and offers them to her. She tries not to scrunch her face up in disgust, but she takes them.

"Thank you." She ties the drawstrings tightly.

"Oh my lil' Lovie. I'll always give you the clothes off my back. You need only ask."

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #non consensual touching #call of duty #simon riley #simon ghost smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #dark!simon riley #dark!fic #call of duty fanfic

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messenger-of-babel · 25 days ago

Text

Rattled

Summary: The cracks in your relationship all stem from that one night . (Nightwing x batsis!reader)

Word Count: 2.5K

Notes: Here's another one loveliess~! Warning for description of injuries if you're not cool with that, and then just some changing tenses for tiny pieces that I was too brain fried to fix up while editing. First of the sequels to come out (first fic linked below), so I hope you enjoy!

Part 1

RiRi~ xoxo

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You and Dick had always had a sibling relationship that everyone joked was unbeatable.

You had always been the pair known for late nights and laughter, conversations that flowed for hours without a hitch. Everyone could see how the creases smoothed from Dick's forehead when his eyes settled on you, and when he'd playfully wack at the back of your head. He wasn't supposed to have favourites as the older brother, but everyone knew he that if there was a contender you would be up there no questions asked. You knew it too, in the way that you'd ask Dick for permission if Bruce had told you no or asking him first if you knew Bruce was going to deny you outright. Dick knew what you were doing, even if he sighed and shook his head when you asked. Yet he'd still just berate you lightly before giving you permission and instructions not to come crying to him if things went badly. The same man who'd blink owlishly at any other member of the family if they interrogated him on the soft spot he had for you, responding with a 'I'd do it for any of my siblings,' before walking off.

Partners in crime, and you were to be partners in justice.

Now as he sits in his room, eyes trained on the bland ceiling above him, he wished for you to come crying to him more than anything.

When you came back, you came back different.

Even you could feel that, and it wasn't just the throb in your leg or the persistent limp that told you. When you first woke up after the Black Mask incident, it had been in the back of the Batmobile. As you blinked languidly, staring at the roof of the car, your surroundings began to take shape. First had been the burn. The god-awful burn that started in your thigh and shoulder, and made you want to throw up from the intensity that it struck you. When you groaned you could hear worried voices, the sound of Dick yelling something at someone. You could feel the hum of the engine through the leather seats as it worked harder, and the vibrations rattled your skull until you felt the familiar black fog close over you.

The second time that you had woken up, you had been in your bed. The roof of the batmobile had been traded for the canopy of your four poster, and the hard leather traded in for the plush familiarity of your mattress. there was still the persistent stinging in your leg of course, but it had died down some. Pulling back the cotton sheets revealed a tightly wrapped bandage, just a dot of red peeking through. Your arm was stiff as you rolled it, pain squeaking through your joint at the action. The wrapping was the signature of Alfred, the tight yet even tension throughout the bandages speaking to his countless years of wrapping up child soldiers. You winced when you put pressure on your leg, a jolt running up the back of your thigh like a live wire. That wasn't enough to stop you however, merely making you grimace as you shuffled to the door, threading your arms through your fluffy, printed dressing gown.

Your bedroom door creaked open, letting spills of golden light into the darkness of your room. Faint chatter could be heard from down the hall, leading to the foyer. You looked both ways, trying to see who was around before stepping out and closing the door softly behind you. You had only made it about six paces down the left hall, headed for the library to where Jason often visited, before a voice called out to you.

"You should be resting."

Those words were enough to make your shoulders hunch, like a deer caught in headlights. When you turned back around you were met with the cold eyes of your father, jaw set tight, and arms crossed. He was imposing as ever, whether you saw him dressed for patrol that night or if he was simply Bruce Wayne like he was now. You just wrung your hands, looking down to your feet. You couldn't help but feel the scalding in his tone, the disappointment enough to make your eyes water. You didn’t really consider yourself to be a cry-baby, but the tiredness that clung to your brain like a fog, paired with the stare he normally gave your older siblings was enough to make you curl up inside.

You heard his footfalls, and it was like the world was shaking with each heavy step. Bruce crouched in front of you, sleeves rolled to his elbows which he rested on his knees. "Look at me." he commanded, voice a touch softer than it had been before. Reluctantly, you pulled your eyes up to meet his. His eyes were dark but not angry, searching yours silently before flicking around your face. A rough hand came up to the side of your face, reaching for your cheek. His hands were large and rough, but they tucked hair behind your ear so softly you almost didn’t realise he had.

Involuntarily your lip wobbled, closing your eyes as you felt the familiar sting. "I'm sorry." you forced out, throat feeling like sandpaper after waking up so recently. You only had realised how thirsty you were, now that you had used your voice. Bruce sighs and stands up, warms hands coming to rest on your shoulders before softly pulling you in. "It's okay, chickadee." he murmured lowly. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

The use of your childhood nickname made the hot tears beading your eyes finally sink into his shirt. You wrapped your arms around him as your brain flashed with pieces of what had happened last night, each one that zapped through your brain making your leg sting and pulse.

You wrangled your emotions under control, taking a deep breath. even breathing felt like a chore, having to push each breath past the built-up knot in your chest. You parted your lips, wanting to say something to the silent yet steady father before you, but the words caught on your tongue.

He had just come up the stairs, rounding the corner when you saw him. Dark hair damp from an earlier shower, it hung in strings in front of his face. He was in a pair of ragged pyjamas, feet tucked into battered grey slippers. He looked up from his phone, freezing as he catches your eye. The glare from the phone screen highlights the bags under his eyes, heaver and darker than usual. His face was a little more sunken in the cheeks, and a worry line seemed to have taken residence on his forehead.

Not able to stand the building pressure in the small distance between you both, you looked down and away. It was like your gaze was the only thing keeping him a voyeur to the moment between you and your father, and you could see his slippered feet shuffle for a moment, before eventually continuing down the hallway. The tired image of his face lingered in your mind long after Bruce had walked you back to bed and tucked you in, like a persistent itch on the inside of your eyelids.

When you slipped back into sleep, you dreamt of it.

You dreamt of being back in that shipping container, body thrumming with pain and warning signals firing in every corner of your brain. your teeth could feel the texture of the wooden spoon you bit, mouth dry and tongue aching from the texture. Pain boiled through your veins like acid, and the spoon clatters from your mouth. Your mouth is dry, but your cheeks feel as wet and you beg Dick to stop, and you can feel that your leg is sickeningly wet and warm.

While you're tossing lightly in your sleep, Dick is awake down the hall. He couldn't sleep, but not for the usual reasons. For reasons unknown to you, he was staring at the ceiling with his heart in his throat. If he took his eyes off it for too long it warped back into the shipping container roof, his vision blurring like they were covered in tears. He had to keep his eyes trained on the ceiling to make sure he didn’t accidentally slip back there, to prove to himself that he was in fact here in his room, and it wasn’t some trauma response imagining he was. His hand clenched and unclenched in the sheets, repeating to himself over and over that he was safe, you were safe. It was just a nightmare that never seemed to end, but he had gotten you back safely.

If his eyes closed for even a second too long, his ears rang with the sound of your sobbing and the pleading that came from your lips. With a sigh he wipes his face with his hand, blinking languidly as the air puffs out from his lungs. Who was he kidding. Safe? You were hardly safe. You had been bleeding all over your suit, all over that medical chair, all over his hands. That red was still staining the backseat of the Batmobile, and no matter how many times Jason told him he had cleaned it fully, he was convinced he could still see it there faintly.

He wasn't your hero.

Dick knew that much, and it hurt. He hadn't been the one who eventually saved you, that had been Tim. Who had come to him with a kit and the car, who had helped him pinch off the bleed, who had driven as fast as he could to get you back to Alfred and the med bay while all Dick could do was hold you in the back of the car. He was supposed to be unshakeable, your rock and foundation. He had advocated for you to be able to come out with them, promising Bruce, promising himself that he would sooner die than let anything happen to you.

What a lie that was.

Despite his best efforts, when he looked down to his bloodied lap, the sight he saw was not the debut vigilante. It was his little sister back when she was ten, in the gala dress Bruce had bought her. Hair slightly messy from running in the halls and roughhousing with Damian, knees skinned from tripping over near the garden well. It was the little sister that would fling herself into his room whenever she wanted or would come charging at him down the driveway when he came back from a trip to Bludhaven. The little girl who had posters of all of Gotham's vigilantes on her bedroom wall but had a few extra Nightwing ones tacked up on the inside of her wardrobe. That was the one he had failed.

With a crushing pain in his chest he swung himself upwards, tousling his hair with a shake of his head. Alfred should have given you another round of painkillers, which meant that more than likely you were going to be knocked out for a while. He shoved his feet into slippers, sighing as he turned the handle of his bedroom door. This was a bad idea, but he couldn’t stop himself. It's not like he was going to be sleeping much tonight anyways.

The lights of the hallways were dimmed but still bright enough to hurt his eyes, and he solemnly wondered if that was how Bruce felt constantly. Your door wasn’t too far away from his, yet he still hesitated outside. He steeled himself, taking a deep breath and checking to see if anyone was around before he grabbed the handle and pressed it down, your door swinging open silently.

The beeping of the monitors near your bed made his heart pang, and he looked over your sleeping figure. Your eyes were closed, lips parted softly as your chest rose and fell. The sheets were tucked up neatly under your arms, no doubt Alfred's work, while one arm rested in your lap and the other by your head. Your shoulder was padded thickly with gauze pads, strapped tight to your skin. He sat gently on the side, trying to not let his weight dip the bed too much. A hesitant hand brushes across your forehead so he can see your face clearer, a faint smile flickering across his lips. His eyes trail down to the blankets that covered the wound site on your leg, and his brain was filled with images. He wanted so badly to know what it looked like, if it was healing, how much gauze was needed to patch up his mistake.

"I'm sorry." he whispers into the air, gazing down at you. "I'm so so sorry, birdie."

His hands fiddle in his lap as he lets a sigh out. He moves one of his hands stiffly to yours in your lap, gently curling his hand around your fingers. When your digits twitch in your sleep and curl around his back, his eyes burn, and he holds the back of his other hand to his nose to stop a sniffle. "I'm so sorry." he whispers again, throat on fire. "I should have been there sooner. I should have caught you. I should have checked for an explosive, I should have kept my promise." he confesses quietly, the bleeding of his heart spilling past his lips. "I should have been a better brother, birdie. I wish I could take it back."

He swallows thickly, eyes flicking over your face constantly to check for signs of you waking. "I understand if you hate me. Why you don't speak or look at me, and I understand." he tries to smile weakly. "I understand. Bruce was so mad at me, but that's what I deserve. It was all my fault, it truly was." His voice aches as tears finally drip off his nose, a hiccup building in his chest. "But I'll try to make it up to you. I'll earn your trust again, if you'll let me. I promise you; nothing is ever going to happen again."

He wipes his face and stands up, aching as he slips his hand from yours. Your fingers twitch at the loss of the warm contact, and he would give the whole world if he could have the chance to interlace his fingers with yours. Yet he holds himself back, leaning over to give you a featherlight kiss on the forehead, like he used to do years ago when you came to him with nightmares. "I love you, birdie. Forever, I promise." he whispers, stroking your head once gently before he quietly stands up, trying to not jostle the bed. He pads quietly to the door, opening the handle a fraction so that light doesn’t spill into the room, giving him a big enough gap to just slip out. He closes the door, forehead pressing against the wood for a moment before he pushes off and heads back towards his own bed.

Away from the four walls that held you and the sun faded rectangle right above your bed, where a poster clearly used to hang.

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bower-quinn · 18 days ago

Text

Grease and Glances

You're Steve Harrington’s little sister—and secretly crushing on Eddie Munson for weeks. But a broken bike brings you closer. Closer than you ever imagined. From strangers to friends to lovers. fluffy, description of sex, 18+, smut Watch out! There are severeal chapters.

<- Chapter One Chapter Two

The next day, Eddie wakes up with a strange feeling. His chest feels tight, and he gasps for air. It’s fear. It’s been a very long time since he’s trusted anyone. Even longer since he’s trusted someone who was essentially a stranger. After his mother died and his father went to prison, Eddie hadn’t relied on anyone except himself. And now he’s counting on Steve Harrington’s sister to pick him up.

This girl with the open smile, a moral compass, and an expensive sports car. All things he doesn’t have. His morning is as silent as ever. Wayne is asleep on the couch, and Eddie eats a bowl of cereal. Deliberately slow, always careful not to stare out the window. When it’s time, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and steps outside – prepared for there to be no car. Prepared for you to laugh at him when he arrives at school, sweaty and worn out.

But you can’t know any of that. All you see is the surprise on Eddie’s face when he steps out of the trailer. Almost as if he hadn’t expected you.

“Coffee?” you call out, holding up two Starbucks cups.

“Uh,” he says, then nods, “Sure. Thanks!”

“All part of the pick-up service!”

Normally, you’re not a morning person, just like Steve. But the idea of driving Eddie Munson to school has you humming all morning. Much to your brother’s annoyance and confusion. He doesn’t say anything, but he gives you a questioning, almost scrutinizing look. Since your parents are also present, he holds back. You know there’s going to be a sibling-to-sibling talk soon. But that’s okay, Steve is understanding about almost everything. Whether he’ll be understanding about Eddie Munson, though, remains to be seen.

“If I’d known,” Eddie says, interrupting your thoughts, “I would’ve wrecked my bike sooner!”

As he takes his coffee, his fingers brush over the back of your hand. Even if it’s surely accidental, your heart starts racing again and a tingle shoots up your arm.

“Don’t get cheeky!” you laugh, “or I’ll leave you standing right here!”

There it is again, that strange look. You feel like Eddie is studying your face, searching for something in it.

“I can walk too,” he says and gestures with his thumb toward the gravel path. And there it is, the explanation. Eddie hadn’t been sure whether you were joking. That’s what it was.

You laugh to ease his uncertainty. “Get in, Munson.”

The drive is short, far too short for your taste – full of jokes, music (you turned up Iron Maiden on purpose), and conversations about everything.

But as soon as you pull into the parking lot, the atmosphere changes. Not just in the car. Eddie suddenly shifts nervously in his seat. At first you wonder if it’s the coffee – maybe it was too strong. But when you follow his gaze, you see your classmates staring through the windshield. Your heart sinks. Is Eddie embarrassed to be seen with you? Did you misread everything? Was what you took for insecurity really just Eddie’s desperate attempt to get out of your imposed offer?

But your downward spiral of thoughts is interrupted by Eddie again.

“They’re all staring at us,” he hisses, “maybe we should get out.”

“Yeah,” you mumble and exit the car. Eddie follows you.

The whispering, though quiet, is deafening. Heads turn toward you, then away. There’s giggling, and somewhere you hear the word “freak.”

You can see a few of the girls from your grade whispering to each other. Even a few guys are staring. It’s not hostile – more curious, surprised. Maybe a little envious. Okay, a few guys are definitely giving Eddie hostile looks.

When you turn your head to Eddie, you see him freeze like a deer in headlights.

“You okay?” you ask him, and he shakes his head.

“I’m used to people talking about me,” he says, “but now I’ve dragged you into it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, they’re talking about you. Just because you gave me a ride. Because you’re talking to me.”

His big brown eyes look at you, filled with sympathy.

And then it hits you like a ton of bricks. Eddie isn’t uncomfortable being seen with you. He’s afraid that you might be uncomfortable being seen with him.

“Oh come on,” you say, maybe a little too relieved. Eddie hears it and furrows his brow. You shrug.

“Honestly, I don’t care what they say about me,” you explain as you enter the school together. “Most of them only know my last name. And I’m supposed to care about their opinion?”

“Not everyone has a reputation like yours,” he says quietly, and you can hear the envy in his voice.

“Well. A good reputation isn’t everything.”

“Oh yeah? What else is there?”

“Fun!” you say and look him right in the face, “Friends. Laughing together. Just living! It’s my life, not theirs. And if they want to judge me based on who I’m friends with – let them.”

Then you bite your lip. You just called Eddie your friend. Was that too soon? But his wide grin is answer enough. He puts his hands on your shoulders and says, “You’re a little crazy. But the good kind of crazy. See you at lunch?”

You nod, unable to say another word. If you opened your mouth, thousands of butterflies would fly out at Eddie’s face.

That afternoon, you sit with Eddie and his friends at their lunch table for the first time. It’s loud, it’s wild, and it’s absolutely fabulous. You haven’t had that much fun at lunch in a long time. The looks from others don’t bother you anymore, especially when Eddie smiles at you – wide from ear to ear – just because you’re there.

As promised, you drive Eddie home again after school. Even if you have to wait an hour for him – but that’s something you won’t tell him.

When you get home, it’s later than usual, the sun is setting. You’re humming a tune and replaying every conversation with Eddie in your mind. So lost in thought, you don’t notice Steve already waiting in the kitchen.

Steve is leaning against the counter, a bottle of orange juice in hand. You walk through the door, jacket half-open, your humming abruptly stops.

“Well,” Steve says in a tone that’s way too casual to be innocent. “You’re late. Drove Miss Daisy home again?”

His look says it all.

You sigh, hang up your jacket and mumble: “Hi, Steve.”

“Just tell me. You’ve got a crush on Munson, right?”

He takes a sip of juice like he just casually said that. But he watches you closely. You stop, hands in your pockets, eyes on the floor.

A few seconds pass. Then you nod. You could never lie to Steve anyway.

“Yeah.”

Steve blinks. No joke, no snide comment. Just a:

“Okay.”

You sit down at the kitchen table, rest your elbows on it and say quietly: “Is it that obvious?”

Steve looks at you, then says: “To me? Yeah, definitely. To your classmates? No, they’d probably notice if they weren’t so busy gossiping,” he shrugs, “to Munson? Probably not. Guys are usually the last to realize when a girl likes them.”

“I don’t even think he sees me as a potential girlfriend,” you admit to him and yourself. Your shoulders drop and a heaviness settles over your heart. Steve notices the change instantly and sits down next to you. He puts a hand on your arm.

“Hey, you sure? Guys that age are total idiots!”

You laugh softly.

“I… it took forever for him to even notice me. To see me as more than just ‘Steve’s little sister.’ And now we’re friends. It was so hard to get here. And I have no idea how to keep going.”

Steve looks out the window, runs a thoughtful hand through his hair. You wait patiently – when Steve thinks this long, it’s serious.

His voice, when he finally speaks, is warm, sincere: “Munson… Eddie is like a cake. Like a cake with a hard crust.”

“Cake with a crust,” you repeat in disbelief.

“A hard crust! And you, you’re the spoon.”

“I’m a spoon?”

“Yeah, and you’ve started digging through the hard crust. And you know what’s underneath? More crust!”

“More crust.”

“Look, if you repeat everything I say, we’re gonna be here all day.” Steve leans forward and stares at you intensely.

“Okay, I’ll try to understand your weird cake metaphor,” you promise.

“So, you’re the spoon and Eddie is a cake with a hard crust and under that there’s even more hard crust, but,” he takes a dramatic breath, “if you keep digging, you’ll find a delicious layer of vanilla pudding with strawberries.”

“Okay so,” you say very slowly, “you’re telling me I should just stay persistent and win Eddie over?”

Steve downs his orange juice – the long speech made him thirsty – and taps his nose. Bingo.

“Your metaphor was very weird, and kind of gross, but it actually helped,” you admit, surprised, and Steve grins at you. He gets up, tosses the empty bottle away and heads toward the kitchen door.

“And the great part is: I just know he’ll treat you right!”

“How do you know that?” you ask him as he’s already leaving the kitchen.

“Because I’m your big brother and I’ll punch him square in the face if he hurts you!” he calls from the hallway – and you laugh really hard at that.

Chapter Three ->

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader

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yanyandam · 2 months ago

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Hi there !! I've had an idea in my head for some time, in fact it's one of the members of the bonten who has to sleep with reader because he must have information about her but ends up gradually falling in love with her. (I like all of them except mochi) ( I’m sorry my English is so bad Unfortunately, it's not my native language. ) thanks love have a good day bye bye !!

How dare you exclude my glorious king mochi? (I said, after using this as an excuse to not write for him nor takeomi out of laziness.) Here are small scenarios, myb if u were expecting a long oneshot, did my best. (yall can check out my bonten koko fanfic if interested btw its fiye I swear) ps: your english is perfect dear, im not native either

STAY PROFESSIONAL -BONTEN and how they handle the situation

You were supposed to be a job. Just a stepping stone in a long list of necessary evils. Manjiro needed leverage on a politician, and you were the perfect way to get it: beautiful, easy to manipulate, unaware of the world you had stepped into. That was the plan. It should have ended there. So why the fuck is he watching you from across the bar, his cigarette burning between his fingers, as another man leans in too close, his hand brushing your thigh? He tells himself it’s not jealousy, it’s business. That’s what he tells himself.

But when you finally glance up and see him, your face pales. You freeze like a deer caught in headlights. You know. You know exactly what happens to things Mikey can’t control. He doesn’t make a scene. He simply nods toward the door, a silent command, and watches as you hesitate. In an instant, he’s pushing off the bar, moving toward you with slow steps. By the time he reaches you, the other man has already sensed the danger and slunk away. Smart choice. You open your mouth to say something, but his fingers brush against your wrist, just for a second. A silent claim. A warning. "Outside. Now." His voice is low, steady. But inside, something inside him is burning. He should let you go. Should end this. But for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t want to.

You were supposed to be temporary. A means to an end. A tool. You had connections to a rival gang, and he needed your secrets. Getting them was easy, Sanzu had patience, persistence, and an unshakable loyalty to Mikey that meant no one was beyond sacrifice. Not even you. You were a night of indulgence, nothing more. He doesn’t form attachments. It’s too risky. So why does his stomach twist when he hears someone mention your name? Why does his hand twitch toward his gun when someone laughs about using you the same way he did?

He wasn’t supposed to care. But when he sees you again, he steps in before he can think. He doesn’t say much, doesn’t even explain why he’s there. Just pulls you behind him and gives the guy a look that promises death. You don’t understand. "Why do you care?"

He doesn’t have an answer. But he does know one thing: he’ll kill for you, if it ever comes to that.

You knew too much, that was your mistake. Kakucho needed to know what this 'too much' you knew represented. He didn't want to go down the murder route, you looked honest as a citizen, and Kakucho hated hurting civilians, let alone women. So he opted for the first option he could find to win you over. It was just one night. One moment where he let himself feel something other than exhaustion and cold detachment. He should forget you. But weeks later, when he sees you again, he realizes he can’t. You smile when you recognize him. "Small world." He almost doesn’t respond. Almost walks away. But instead, he sighs and mutters, "You always smile at strangers?"

"Only the ones who look like they need it."

He should tell you to stay away. Should warn you that getting close to him means trouble. But when you offer him a place to sit, when you don’t look at him like a monster, he sits down. And he doesn’t leave.

You thought you were in control. That was cute. You were a journalist, digging too deep into gang affairs, and Kokonoi seduced you to shut you up. It worked, for a while. Until you found out the truth. And now? You’re broke. Blacklisted. Your career is in ruins. You were nothing more than a distraction, something to pass the time. That’s what he tells himself. Until he sees you again, working some miserable job, looking exhausted, and he feels an unfamiliar urge. He wants to fix this. He wants to fix you. It pisses him off. He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t help people. But the next time he sees you, he slides an envelope of money across the counter.

You blink at it. "What’s this?"

"A favor. Take it or don’t, I don’t care."

You don’t take it. You just look at him, arms crossed. "You feel guilty?"

He scoffs. "Don’t flatter yourself." But when you smile, his fingers twitch. He leaves before he does something stupid. But the next time he sees you? He doesn’t walk away.

You were just another night. Another meaningless body tangled in silk sheets, another face he wouldn’t remember after collecting what he needed. That’s what Ran told himself. Until he sees you again. It’s been weeks, maybe months, and yet there you are, laughing, talking, not thinking about him. It shouldn’t bother him. But it does. Maybe you’re working at one of his clubs, maybe you’re just passing through, but the moment his eyes land on you, something ugly stirs in his chest. You notice him. Of course you do. Who wouldn’t? He’s rich, powerful, untouchable. You should feel lucky he even remembers you. But you don’t act lucky. You just tilt your head and smirk. "Didn’t think I’d see you again."

"Neither did I." His voice is smooth, unreadable. You nod, take a sip of your drink. You’re not fawning over him. You’re not desperate for his attention. And that’s the problem. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t need you. So why does he lean in just a little closer? "Tell me." His fingers brush against your wrist. "Did you forget about me?" You raise a brow. "Should I have remembered?" For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t have an answer. And it pisses him off.

Rindou is not supposed to care. That part of him is dead, buried beneath years of cruelty, power, and the weight of the life he chose. But then he sees you again. After that one night. That night night, which was supposed to end with your bloodied body once he'd had enough information about your boss.

Maybe it’s in one of his clubs, maybe it’s on the street, but when your eyes meet his, something in his chest tightens. You smile. Not forced, not fake, just a real, casual smile. Why weren’t you afraid? Like he’s just some normal guy. Like he’s not someone to be feared. And for a second, he wants to pretend.

"Didn’t think I’d see you again." He leans against the bar, acting casual. Acting like he doesn’t care. You shrug. You don’t ask for anything. You don’t beg for attention, don’t try to use him. And that’s when it hits him. That night wasn’t a game to you. You didn’t want his money, his power, his influence. You just wanted him. The him that doesn’t exist anymore. His jaw clenches. He should walk away. Should kill whatever feeling is rising in his chest before it becomes a weakness. But instead, he mutters, "You free tonight?"

And when your smile widens, when you nod…He realizes he’s already lost.

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flwrkid14 · 2 months ago

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omg what about rockstar Danny who has this huge concert and the Wayne family gets tickets so they all go but Danny and Tim have been dating for a few months and Danny was able to break all of Tim’s walls. So we have a petty and pissed off danny who thinks Tim should abandon the bat family and join Team Phantom. In his last song for the night he plays “Cupid’s Chokehold” by Gym class heroes and reveals their relationship when it gets to “Take a look at my girlfriend” at 1:07 and batfamily is just shocked. Anyways no pressure, just thought it’d be a fun ask. Take your time and prioritize yourself!

hi anon! tysm for the ask <3 and wow this is such a brilliant idea! though it was a little tricky to convey in writing.. but I hope you like it!

The Wayne family gets tickets to the concert of the year—Danny Fenton, rockstar enigma, the ghostlight darling of the music world, is performing live in Gotham.

He’s known for a few things. One: his stage presence is unearthly. Two: he’s never once done an interview. Three: every song he writes sounds like it was bled out of someone’s soul.

(And Four: no one really knows who his music is about. The love songs, the heartbreak, the fury—it’s all so personal and yet so vague. A mystery Gotham’s tabloids would kill to solve.)

So when Bruce hands out the tickets, it’s treated like a normal outing. A night off. A nice show.

Tim doesn’t say much. Just, “Yeah. Sounds good.”

And for most of the show, it is good.

Danny is electrifying. His voice hits like a tidal wave and his lyrics—god, the lyrics. Furious things wrapped in velvet; love songs that ache like broken ribs. Songs about being pushed aside. Being invisible. Giving and giving until there’s nothing left.

Cass tilts her head, listening harder. Dick glances at Tim, who’s sitting very, very still. Bruce doesn’t notice anything yet—too distracted by the crowd. Jason is squinting at Danny like he’s seen a ghost.

And then it starts.

The final song.

A new one. Unreleased.

“I wasn’t gonna play this one,” Danny says, voice sharp with something bitter under the surface. “But I think I changed my mind.”

He nods at the band. They start playing.

The melody is upbeat—light, familiar. It’s Cupid’s Chokehold. People cheer. Some move to the melody.

And then—

Take a look at my girlfriend… She’s the only one I got…

Danny’s eyes flicker, sharp and glowing. His smile twists.

Not much of a girlfriend— I never seem to get a lot…

He stops singing for just a beat. Lets the music carry. Lets the tension build.

Then, clear as a bell:

Take a look at my boyfriend—

Spotlight.

It slams onto the VIP balcony. Onto Tim. Who freezes like a deer in the headlights.

He’s the only one I got.

The entire arena goes silent for half a second.

And then it erupts.

People are screaming. Phones come out. Tim is suddenly the most photographed man in Gotham. Jason shouts. Dick physically chokes on air. Steph screams “I KNEW IT!” while Cass just beams.

And Bruce? Bruce is staring at the stage like the math isn't mathing.

Danny doesn’t stop. He leans in.

He sings the rest of the song with so much love it’s almost cruel—every lyric like a thread being pulled.

He rewrites a few lines on the fly, just subtle enough:

She gets out when she wants ‘cause she’s strong like that He doesn’t need a cape, doesn’t need a mask— He’s already saved me just by being who he is.

And it’s not just a love song.

It’s a declaration. A confession. And, if you’re listening closely, an accusation.

Because every heartbreak song that came before it—the ones filled with rage and soft, splintering grief—suddenly make sense.

They weren’t just about some vague lost lover.

They were about Tim. And the family that never really saw him.

All that fury? That loneliness? That ache that threaded Danny’s albums?

It was theirs. Their behavior, their neglect, their silence. Turned into art. Turned into fire.

And Danny—Danny Fenton, whose voice can shake the world—just handed it back to them, live onstage, with a kiss blown to the boy sitting under the spotlight.

Tim covers his face with one hand. He’s laughing and crying and blushing hard.

Danny’s last note rings out, final and sharp. And the lights go out.

Backstage, later:

Tim shoves into Danny’s dressing room like a man possessed. “What was that?”

Danny’s taking off his mic pack, cool as ever. “Soft launch,” he says. “Or maybe the opposite.”

“You just outed us to the whole city.”

Danny shrugs. “They deserved to know.”

Tim sighs. Collapses into him. “You’re impossible.”

Danny kisses his temple. “You’re mine.”

And Tim—who clings to Danny like he was stitched into him—doesn’t disagree. He just holds on tighter.

Because the bats might be his family, sure.

But Danny? Danny’s home.

#thanks for the ask <3 #tim drake #danny phantom #rockstar danny #family bonding but make it public shaming #no thoughts just boyfriend onstage airing the family laundry #danny pulled a taylor swift and dropped a diss track disguised as a love song #i'm not incredibly satisfied with the outcome but I hope you enjoyed it!

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livingdeadgirlflorette · 8 months ago

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SO HIGH ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ carl grimes x reader

summary : getting caught smoking at your age isn't a good thing, but maybe getting caught smoking by the new guy's son isn't so bad at all, especially since he looked so cute.

tags / rundown : slight angst at the start, almost kissing, underage smoking, shotgunning, set in alexandria, carl is easily flustered, reader's parent's are pronounced dead (womp womp)

word count : 2.8k

a/n : this fic was inspired by me listening to so high by doja lols. since my midterms ended, i've decided to write this with my free time. hope it was worth it (∩_∩;) also i'll be writing a part 2 to "late night kisses", just dk where to start ( ´△｀) lmk if you want to be tagged in it!

dividers by @cafekitsune ꩜ .ᐟ

PART 2: YOUR FACE ⟡₊⋆∘

Alexandria seemed like such a pleasant escape from the shithole of the world we're living in today. Living almost two years by yourself from. . . unfortunate circumstances between your parents and an unexpected herd of walkers that had invaded your base camp. With a heavy heart and an even emptier stomach, that had left you scrounging for anything to survive. Food, water, a place to sleep in— it felt like you were just barely living day by day.

With all hope lost and no destination ahead, you just kept walking— no goal or end in mind, just walk until you found a place that could help you regain the empty feeling in you. To your surprise, a place like that still existed— a sanctuary called Alexandria. The first time you ever entered the gates, you felt like a deer in headlights. It all looked different from the outside world, giving you a sense of hope, a small beacon of hope that it would get better.

But even with all the good things that come with it, it still felt like you were so out of place. The pristine, large houses and the children laughing, acting as if nothing had ever even happened. Unrightfully, it irked you. They didn't know what it was like living day by day, not knowing if the last place you'd stay and shut your eyes for shelter in would be your last. They didn't know what it was like to starve, famished to the point you'd eat raw animal just so you could have something in your stomach. They didn't know what it was like to lose people by shooting them using their own gun. They didn't know.

All the feelings of jealousy, envy, and sadness spiraling in you, was overwhelming you to the point of just crying until you had no tears left. But you would never let them know that. It would be a stupid move to show weakness, especially in the state of the world. So you sneak out.

Sneaking out of Alexandria was a therapeutic event. Every time you do this it relaxes you, knowing what would come after would be the cherry on top to help you wind down and let your feelings fizzle out.

With you far enough from Alexandria where you knew no supply runners or recruiters would catch you, you walked through the forest, trying to find a place that's quiet. Seemingly in a matter of minutes, you find a small clearing. Peaceful and from your scoping of the forest, no walkers.

You sit down next to a tree and put your bags down, then finally sitting down, leaning on the large vegetation. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, you fiddle around your jacket pockets and suddenly stop when you hear a voice call out to you, seemingly unimpressed.

"You know that kills you, right?" You turn around to put a body to the disembodied voice, and you see it's the boy from that one group that Aaron had recruited. You weren't that tuned in to the whole story, but you saw enough to know that they were like you, different, in the sense that you'd been out there, living through the apocalypse.

From overhearing Ron and Mikey talk about if they should him to play videogames, you knew the boy's name was Carl. He was cute, interesting, boyish in a way that he still had that youthful face, yet he was mature to have so much control over his emotions and body language and the way he carried himself.

If it were someone different, you'd just ignore the person and tell them to leave you alone. But you had the idea Carl wouldn't be such an annoyance to you, so you decide to entertain yourself by speaking with him.

"That's kind of the point." Finally, you find you lighter in your back pocket and proceed to tap on the cigarette box, pulling one out and putting it between your lips.

You didn't what to continue talking right now, wanting to just focus on matter at hand. You were thinking how to tell him but you were pleasantly surprised to see that he'd gotten the message, and just walked next to the spot on your tree, and sat down next to you.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you question his motive. Why would he even talk to you? more so why would he try to sit next to you? he has nothing to gain from this. . .

Continuing your actions, you flick open the lighter and the fire sparks burst out, creating a small flame. It fills you with relaxation. You lean in, just close enough to light your cigarette and when you finally inhale the comforting tobacco— you sigh out the smoke, lazily blinking. Your eyes dart up to the sky, watching the smoke from your mouth go up and away.

You look back to Carl, realizing you barely noticed he'd comfortably situated himself— with his signature sheriff's hat that he donned on the grass next to him and a comic book open in his hands.

You guess he wouldn't really be a nuisance, he would just be next to you while you let out your puffs of tobacco. So you scoot a little closer to him. What you didn't notice was how he saw you moving closer, unable to hide a ghost of a smile before it disappeared completely.

The sky was turning into an entrancing shade of cool colors. It seemed like time passes faster when you're smoking, only focused on changing the cigarette when it's on its last puff, and breathing in and slowly out to watch the result of your sighs for it to go up into presumably the clouds. You wish you could stay here forever. Carl was quietly reading the second comic book he'd brought, not having any plan to talk to you and your relaxed state. The boy's company was actually, comforting in the sense that you had someone with you.

But you had noticed he kept glancing at you and more so, your lips. You know the reason. He's obviously curious. From your knowledge, teenage boys are typically rebellious, so you figured he'd want to try a small puff.

The silence that had been enveloping the majority of your time together was broken by you.

"You want to try it?" His eyes jolt up from the scene in the comic he's reading, sincerely surprised you'd ask.

"I- uh- yeah i'd like to uhm— I wanna try it." He tries to find the right words, but seemingly they all just turn into mush when he sees you.

Your eyes are lidded, your body languid— presumably from all the tobacco you'd been smoking, and your lips are plump, slightly open. With that look, it's enough to send blood rushing to his cheeks, his eyes darting blinking rapidly and looking slightly down to hide his blossoming blush.

Even in your smoke-induced haze, you still notice this. Seeing him act all bashful and shy in front of you, it makes you feel giddy inside. You let out an airy chuckle and you hand him the cigarette.

"Knock yourself out." You tell him. With a nervous gaze, he musters up his courage and looks at you. Hesitantly taking the cigarette in your hands. But you undoubtedly notice his hands brush against yours as he took the lit stick of tobacco.

Carl then calculatively puts the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling before letting out a dry heaving cough. You giggle at him, you know it's a common mistake but he just looks so cute trying to do it properly.

"How do you even do it without coughing—" His words were cut off by another cough he let out, he seemed like he was having a hard time so you gently put your hand on his back, lightly patting it to help him cough.

"It's okay, I kept coughing a fit the first time I did it." You assured him, wondering how you could help him get through it, until you finally clicked, realizing what you should do to have him experience it properly.

"Do you want me to help you?" Your voice is gentle and calm so you don't startle him. He looks at you, his coughing had seemed to cease. His posture went straight, eyebrows furrowed. What could you possibly to do help him smoke without him wheezing?

Carl silently gives you an okay, slightly nodding as he does. "Don't freak out, okay?" He's curious, what would you do to help him? But then he sees your actions, you take the cigarette in between his calloused fingers and put it back into your mouth, taking in a small intake.

He's uncertain on what you're about to do, questions going in and out of his head. But you silence those answers by taking the cigarette out of your mouth, then grabbing his chin with your free hand to have his face an inch apart from yours.

His mouth is open in awe and disbelief. He can feel his heart beating out of his chest when you take you open your mouth, slowly blowing the smoke into his mouth. He quickly understands what you're doing, slowly breathing in the puff of smoke with his mouth.

With the last blow of your lips sending the smoke, You make eye contact with him. Your eyes were all this time trained on his lips, focusing so he wouldn't move. His breath hitches when he finally has all of the smoke you had in your mouth.

It's overwhelming for Carl, really— knowing all the puffs of tobacco he had in his mouth were in yours, and how close you still are to his face, it makes him want to shoot his heart out into the darkening sky. Realizing he's been looking too long at your face and not releasing the smoke, he lets it out slowly, watching your every move.

You look at him, letting a small smirk grace your face as you lean back. He doesn't know why he has such a dissatisfied feeling when you pull back though, It's so perplexing to him.

"We should get back to the gates, I think your father would be worried that his son's been missing." You put the cigarette out, standing up and patting your jeans off, shooing the dirt off your clothing. You look back to Carl, the emotion on his face evidently stupefied.

"Yeah— my dad's probably looking for me by now so," He scrambles also to fix himself up, turning slightly away from you. He tries to find more words, but it leaves him with only a few.

"We should go." He finally says. He wanted to save himself from the embarrassment he'd feel from you seeing his blush.

Carl thought what he was doing was ridiculous though; it was getting dark, you wouldn't be able to see color on his face unless you were close and squinted hard enough. But he does so anyway.

The rest of the walk back to Alexandria you're standing side by side, walking with him. You fail to ignore that tingly and rushed feeling whenever his hands accidentally brush yours, making your cheeks flush. You look at him, curious if he also felt the way feeling you were experiencing.

Carl felt quite befuddled, he was so perplexed at the thought of you. There was a swirling feeling in his heart. He wondered if what he was feeling was just from the nicotine in those cigarettes or if it was because of you, but then his question gets answered when he looks at you.

With the eye contact you guys had, you smile bashfully and look straight back at the path. He made you smile, and that was enough for him to know he was interested. He wanted to know more about you, and what it would feel like to have your face close to him again. Hopefully next time it would be to feel your lips on his, and not just the smoke.

I'm not sure if I like this, but it fueled my imagination of smoking with Carl so I don't really mind (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

#carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes fanfiction #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #twd #twd x reader #twd x you #carl grimes x you #𓂃🖊 — florette's fics

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yandereunsolved · 9 months ago

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Yandere Daryl Dixon w/ immune reader— 'we're all infected, why does it matter if you're the cure?'

Yandere Daryl saw your scraggly ass aimlessly wandering through the abandoned pharmacy he needed to raid. Walkers, five of em', and you fought them off bare fisted. Pretty badass, and fucking stupid, if Daryl has anything to say about it. You're bleeding from your neck more than any living person should.

A bite. You're bit.

No wonder you could care less if one of the rotting corpses bites on ya.

He wants to put you down like he should. He lines up his crossbow with your head, and like a deer caught in headlights, you flee.

Goddammit all.

Shouldn't matter anyway. You'll become another walker. At the most you got some gauze.

It had to be months again before he saw you on another run. There you are—banged up and just a lil more than skin n' bones, but there you are alive none the less.

Yandere Daryl admits to himself that it's the first time he's been intrigued by someone in a long while. Maybe that's why he's insisted on going on runs by himself these past few months. Maybe just maybe deep down he wanted to see you again.

It isn't hard to simply surprise you from behind and disarm you. He knocks you out and lowers you to the sidewalk. He doesn't see any walkers near, so he can check your wound out easy.

You still have gauze over it, but it has long since needed a change. It's drenched in fresh blood and covered in old. He unwraps it to see the damn bite. He can't tell if it looks better or worse now.

"Poor sap, what am I gonna do with you? Whats good a cure if there's no docs, only greedy men in this world." He tsks.

Yandere Daryl picks you up and carries you back to the group. He wraps a slightly torn shawl around your neck. It's one he found near the store you collapsed at. There's a reason you have been out here all these months.

You could'a just given up and died.

You could'a found a group.

Instead you found him again.

"Must've been fate, huh?" He chuckles humorlessly.

The way you looked at him. You're runnin' from somethin'. He just has to figure out what.

Yandere Daryl decides you're his to take care of. When he carries you into Alexandria, he doesn't let anyone else get their hands on you. He doesn't answer anyone's questions while he walks in and towards his house. He locks himself in and tells anyone that comes by to piss off.

Screw the rules and whatever the fuck.

You're a mystery that he has to solve.

So he grabs a change of clothes and some food for you. He plops them down on the table and sits in the opposite chair.

He doesn't mind waitin' for a while. It gives him plenty o' time to think. Somethin' in him is just stirrin'. He just can't decide what.

Yandere Daryl calms you down after you wake up. You can barely form words on those pretty lips and tongue of yours. Naturally, you question him and his motives. You're defensive and don't elaborate at first.

It takes just a handful of threats about exposing you and spreading around the fact there is an immune person to unravel your need for secrecy.

Somewhat.

You only tell him that you're being hunted by a group you were once with.

"Mind elaborating, hun?" Daryl draws out while looking over your figure for what feels like the thousandth time.

"I'll tell you—but I swear to God if you use this against me I'll stab you through the head a dozen times over."

"Fair nuff."

"They would—If you get bit and are injected with... well, enough of my blood then it acts as a cure..."

They fuckin' what?

Yandere Daryl vouches for you, and you end up in Alexandria. You get no ifs, ands, or buts about it. They assign you to his house. Daryl definitely convinced Rick that since you're a newcomer and you trust him more, he could keep a watchful eye on you. It totally isn't because there's this strange all possessing feeling that keeps latching onto his heart when you're around.

He keeps your secret safe n' sound. He manages to steal enough makeup from rundown stores to keep your healing bite covered up. He makes sure you are eating and getting healthier. He checks up on you before and after he gets done with a run. Hell, he reminds you of shit he forgets about all the time.

This does extend to him killing people to keep you safe. They looked at you wrong. Maybe one of the residents feels suspicious about you. They may even have confronted Daryl and questioned him. Oh, well. Just another one pushed to the biters.

Daryl has never had a strict moral compass. So he doesn't feel bad about murdering people who he is supposed to consider his neighbors.

Of course, those who came with him to Alexandria get the privilege of questionin' you just a bit. He's quick to shut that shit down, though.

Carol is the only one who is close enough to knowing that you are immune. She knows that Daryl has something more than platonic towards you. She also knows that you were injured with something that looked suspiciously like a walker bite mark when Daryl first lugged you in. (She snuck in and looked through your scarf while Daryl wasn't aware.)

She just isn't looking for trouble. She doesn't want to believe it, as it doesn't seem plausible. There have been too many false hopes from the CDC to Eugene.

So she let's Daryl foster his feelings towards you while watching out for you both. If Daryl ever oversteps a boundary with you, Carol will be there to knock him up side the head, call him a stupid redneck, and threaten him in the most motherly way possible.

Yandere Daryl never saw you have so much terror in the eyes as the day he mentioned The Saviors. It clicked in his mind immediately. He has only felt that rage one other time in his life: when he learned Meryl had been handcuffed to the roof and left for dead.

He didn't think, but he acted. He held you and refused to let go. It's just so fuckin' unfair. He loses everyone that has a semblance of importance to him. Not you. Not this time.

His only thought was that he was going to burn every one of those fuckers to the ground—innocent or not.

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #twd x reader #yandere daryl #yandere daryl dixon #yandere daryl x reader #yandere daryl dixon x reader

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luna-loveboop · 10 months ago

Text

Wars and Wild as knights in Lu

They have issues.

I have a lot of thoughts on Wild and Wars and their relationship (Order of this post is talking about saluting, Wild and Wars' different perspectives, memory issues, and fire) Rant time.

No saluting!!

So Wild took a formal- almost/awkwardly saluting pose when Wars confronted him in 'Entrance pt.2'

It's similar to the first time Wild addressed Wars as 'captain'. His left hand is up from where a salute should be, and his overall posture is awkward, with his shoulders and right hand raised, but it's clear he's trying to do a salute in the presence of a fellow knight.

In the second example his hand is behind his head, but his posture is very straight and his right arm stiff- he's again attempting a formal saluting position. Which is still awkward

It is less clear but his changes in posture clued me in. He goes from like a deer in the headlights to visibly sweating to straight backed and looking up at Wars- looking at the changes in his body language

Side note but I literally love how Jojo draws the champions tunic so much-

We can't see the action of Wild's body language in a comic, just the positions he went to. But he visibly leaned away from Wars before switching to a straight backed saluting-like posture. He's clearly freaked out, hence Twilight's face: >:(

I think that Wild taking somewhat military poses around Wars is important to their relationship issues because it comes from his struggle with memory and identity

So like. All of them have different perspectives

Wars

I adore Wars. He is baby and I love him. I think it is also important to acknowledge that he would not speak to any of the others this way.

And the scarf man cmon it's so pretty they are so cute-

Why is Wars talking to Wild like this? He's called him out and reprimanded him multiple times in front of the others. Wild has taken it well but tbh if it was Legend I think he would be on fire.

To some extent I think he is in captain mode. I think that he has trouble seeing Wild as not a knight. Wars gives Wild respect as a knight who sacrificed for his kingdom, but now it seems he's taking it away as a knight who's not doing well enough since he 'disregarded the plan'

At least I think that's the outside (or Wild's) view of it. But Wars internally really cares about Wild and he saw him run up to a giant and lose it. Different ways of showing concern perhaps?

Who wouldn't want to keep Wild from getting more scars?

I just. Don't doubt for a second Wars really cares about Wild- even if the way he's acting still isn't cool. He has no right to treat him like a soldier any more than the rest of the chain, and right now I think Wild is acting as the more mature person.

Wild

I adore Wild. He is baby and I love him. I think it is also important to acknowledge that although he is clearly making efforts after Twilight's injury, Wild has ignored Wars for the majority of Lu, by not speaking to him much, and not thanking or acknowledging Wars when he directly helped him. (Small example being walking with Hyrule not Wars when injured and not directly responding to Wars)

Wars cares about and respects Wild, but it seems Wild wants nothing to do with him, and he's been cold towards Wars for the majority of Lu. To Wild, Wars reminds him of his perceived failure. Which is valid feelings, but still not fair. And I think that ask is talking about these two.

The thing I love about this is each of them are right and wrong in some ways, leading to the tension between them. So fully blaming either of them is not logical

The rest of the chain is just vibing. Except twilight who's mad and wants them to just grow up, but. Heros of courage not wisdom @uniquevoidflowers ;)

And that ask- '''Are any of the Links ever jealous of another Link for adventures that were less difficult/life threatening?'' ''When you hear Wild say he 'hates' someone you'll have your answer.''' somewhat leads to my next point-

Wild's identity and memory issues exacerbate all of this

In Entrance, Twilight is being stressed and defensive, that's ok. What concerns me most is that Twilight has talked with Wild through stuff like this in his rough moments

Wild has tried to be formal several times- he is not very good at it

Four's face I can't didnwidkekfjej

Wild isn't and can't be 'him'- the same 'perfect' (<actually has crippling anxiety) knight he was before, and Twilight knows this. And I agree with him a bit, I think, that Wars is making things worse in Wild's mind by being that perfect soldier, and seemingly holding Wild to a standard he isn't

Wild's attempts at saluting is symbolic of that- Wars makes him feel like a failure trying to be the person he should be. But Wild shouldn't be anyone but himself.

Anyways. Fire.

Wars and Wild have issues, and I want them to work through all their relationship drama so they can reach their PEAK dynamic, which is obviously this

I mean like. We need these two to be friends

Anyways. Wild is in this constant state of identity crisis, and being around Wars has not been beneficial- neither of them is or has been showing the other the respect they deserve. Not as knights, but as people and brothers. They need a get along shirt.

All this Art is by Jojo @linkeduniverse au!

#that's it that's my argument. they need a get along shirt #I think times armor would work. they are small enough to be the kids shoved in dads clothes to get along #it could hold up when wars starts breathing fire and wild blowing stuff up #linked universe #linkeduniverse #hiii Jesse #Lu wild #lu wars #let's talk about it! I know some of yall will disagree with me probably on some of this #open communication and whatnot #but. do not take this post to hate on wild or wars bc they are both baby <3 fire babies #this post took like three days. like it.#<wait that's unclear. I don't mean literally like it lol I just want you to like as because I made it for you and want it to make you happy #':D if I've said anything like mean or offensive accidentally sorry let me know. we all care so much about these little arsonists <33 #remember you are loved yall matter so much and I care about you #:)#if I have type the word 'wars' or 'wild' one more time I'm gonna lose it

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leo-in-the-pitt · 28 days ago

Text

What's Next

This is Chapter 4 of the Beginning to End series !

Summary: You just started as a night shift attending but, one choice made the night you and Jack got engaged may change everything you had planned. But for better or worse?

Warnings: Pure fluff, pregnancy, 10k words of Jack being the sweetest man on the planet

WC 10.1k

What's Next

“I think we need to go buy some tests.”

Jack froze like a deer in headlights. “Shit.” His eyes widening as his jaw practically fell to the floor at the weight of your words. “No, we’re in a hospital, you can just get blood work done, it’s more accurate.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, your heart pounding hard against your ribs. “Jack, no. I love everyone here but, no. I don’t need any of them drawing my blood right now.”

“Let me do it.”

You blinked hard at him “Jack, what?”

“Let me draw your labs. I’m not waiting for you to pee on some stick when I can do this right now and get an answer. Right here, right now.”

You shook your head, already stepping towards the bathroom door. “No, Jack. No, no, no, no.” You tried to leave, but before you get around him, he moved fast, slipping in front of you and gently placing his hands on your arms to stop you.

“Hey, come on. I know you’re scared but so am I, okay? But if we do this now we’ll know we were getting ourselves into sooner rather than later.”

Felt as though there was a lump in your throat. You could feel his pulse through his fingertips where he touched your arms, grounding you in a moment that didn’t feel real. The light of the hospital bathroom buzzed faintly overhead, and the muffled sounds of monitors and voices outside the door reminded you where you were—and who you were trying not to be right now.

“You can’t just walk my blood over to the lab Jack.”, you said quietly. “Basically all of this hospital knows that we’re engaged, I don’t need them knowing that you got me pregnant too.”

Jack’s mouth twitched into something between a wince and a smirk. “Look, we’ve been together for over 2 years, obviously we’re having sex. That’s not going to be much of a surprise to anybody.”

“Okay yeah but, maybe I don’t want to know if I’m pregnant or not.”

He looked confused. “What do you mean you don’t want to know? If you’re pregnant, we have much bigger conversations and decisions that have to happen. And soon.”

“Jack, I don’t want to pee on some stick or get my blood drawn or — “ You took a deep breath. “anything. Please, just give me a second to process the fact that I might be pregnant right now. I could be growing your child right now and I don’t know how to feel about that yet.”

“Look, no matter what happens, you know that I’ll be right by your side right?” He tilted his head down he get a better look at you.

“I know Jack. I know. We should probably get out of here.” you said, glancing toward the door. “Before someone comes knocking.”

Like a cue from the universe itself. A knock on the door.

“Shit.” You whispered. “What do we do?”

The door handle jiggled.

“One second!” Jack yelled, just as you shouted, “In here!”

“Oh my fucking god Jack. They’re going to think we’re having sex in here or something!”

“Okay look you leave first, then I’’ll leave.”

“That’s worse,” you hissed. “Like you were tucking it back into your pants or something. We should just leave together. We’ve been in here too long already.”

Without waiting for his reply, you pulled the door open and walked out, your face burning as the hallway came into view. Too many eyes turned toward you. Nurses at the desk, a resident walking passed, even one of the janitors paused mid-mop. Your chest tightened. The hallway a spotlight.

Jack followed close behind. You could feel his presence at your back, steady and maybe a little sheepish.

Standing right outside the door was Dana.

“God I thought I was going to piss myself. Take it home next time kids.” She said jokingly.

Jack immediately lifted both palms like he was surrendering to the police. “My pants were on the whole time, I swear.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Jack, really?” You didn’t wait for a response. Just shook your head and walked away, almost breaking into a run.

Behind you, you could feel Dana and Jack exchanging awkward glances.

“You guys doing alright?” Dana asked softly, her usual teasing tone gone.

Jack’s voice was barely audible. “Um, ye—yeah. I think so. Ha—have a good shift, Dana.”

Moments later, you heard his footsteps speeding up behind you as he jogged to catch up.

You didn’t speak right away. Just kept walking, staring straight ahead, feeling everyone’s eyes start to drift back to their own work. Eventually.

Jack fell into step beside you, close enough that your arms brushed.

Neither of you said anything for a while. But in the quiet, in the closeness, something else passed between you.

A storm was coming. But at least, for now, you weren’t facing it alone.

“Can we just go please?” You practically begged him.

“Yeah come on.” He put his arm around you as you both walked to the car in silence.

The car radio the only sound filling the space between you two.

He missed the turn to the apartment.

“Jack, where are we going?” You shifted in your seat.

He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Thought you wanted to buy some tests? You don’t have to take them yet but, at least the option will be there whenever you decide you’re ready. Okay?”

“That’s fine…” you slumped back down.

The drive felt eternal. Each streetlight turned red like it knew you needed more time. The silence between you grew heavier with every block, like gravity itself was trying to pull the truth closer.

Eventually, he pulled into the quiet parking lot of a 24-hour pharmacy. It was only 8am. You both go in slowly, not speaking, the air thick with the weight of what you might be walking toward.

Inside, the store was nearly empty. A single bored cashier scrolled on her phone behind the counter.

In a quiet corner, beneath flickering fluorescent lights, the two of you stood in front of a wall of pregnancy tests. So many options. Pink ones. Blue ones. Some boasting "99% accuracy." Others promising results "6 days before your missed period."

Your fingers were threaded together, but your palms were damp. The silence between you wasn’t comfortable anymore—it was stretched thin.

“Which ones are the most accurate?” you murmured, scanning the shelves with narrowed eyes.

“How am I supposed to know?” He was clearly overwhelmed.

“You’re the doctor here.” You snapped back at him.

“You’re also a doctor…” He sighed heavily.

“I don’t know. I don’t do this all the time Jack.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Neither do I.”

“Let’s just get the digital one. I don’t want to have to argue about if we see one or two lines.”

“God. What if it’s positive?” You felt your eyes begin to water.

Jack didn’t answer right away. He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before gently resting his hand on your back. “Then we’ll figure it out babygirl. It’s sooner than we wanted, but—we’ll be okay.”

Your eyes flicked across the shelves again, avoiding his gaze. “We said we’d wait. We had a plan. Get married. Buy a house. Travel. Maybe in two, three years. This wasn’t supposed to happen now Jack.” You turned your head slowly toward him. He was already looking at you, his eyes filled with something warm and gentle. The tears spilled over despite your best effort.

“Plans change all the time.”

“How are you not scared?”

He smiled faintly. “Not scared? Babygirl, I’m terrified. But not at the possibility of becoming a dad. Not about starting a family with you. I’m scared of you feeling like I’m dragging you into something you’re not ready for.”

“You’re not.” You whispered. “Jack, you’re the only part I’m sure of.”

He put his arm around you. You lean into him and reached for the box on the shelf. “Maybe we should just buy a couple?” you murmured, lifting 2 more boxes. “Just to be sure?”

Your steps were slow, deliberate, as if the ground beneath you had suddenly become fragile.

The cashier didn’t look up from her phone until you placed the boxes on the counter. Her eyes flicked between you and Jack, then down at the pregnancy tests, then back again.

She didn’t say a word—just scanned them and bagged them with a blank expression that somehow felt merciful.

Back in the car, you sat in silence again. The bag sat in your lap like it might explode. Jack kept his eyes on the windshield, hands resting on the steering wheel even though the car was in park.

“So,” he said gently, “do you want to do this now or wait a little longer?”

You leaned your head back against the seat, closing your eyes and took a deep breath.

“I just need a little more time,” you said quietly. “Just one more day. To breathe. To pretend nothing’s different. Like nothing’s going to change.”

There was a long pause, the kind that says more than silence usually can.

“Okay,” he said finally. “One more day. But whatever that test says—I'm not going anywhere. No matter what you want to do. We'll face it together. Always. Until the end.”

You turned to look at him. He was already watching you.

And for the first time that morning, your breath didn’t feel so heavy. You didn’t feel alone.

————————————————————

The Next Morning

The apartment was still, silent in that fragile way it only ever was before the day truly began. Outside, the clouds had settled low and heavy, casting a soft gray hue through the blinds. Rain tapped gently on the windows around you.

Jack had gone out not long ago to get breakfast, coffee—something to do to distract himself from the possibility of you both becoming parents. You hadn’t told him yet that you were ready. Not really. But the moment the door clicked shut behind him, the stillness had grown too loud, the questions too sharp.

The unopened pregnancy tests sat in front of you on the coffee table, They stared back at you, innocent and terrifying all at once.

You couldn’t sit still.

You were pacing the living room now, arms folded, bare feet quiet against the floorboards, eyes flicking to the window every few seconds.

When you finally saw Jack’s car pull into the lot, your heart skipped a beat. He moved through the rain, hoodie already soaked, carrying a brown bag in one hand, the coffee tray in the other. The normalcy of it almost broke you.

The door creaked open, and there he was—dripping rainwater and bringing in the smell of fresh coffee. He kicked off his shoes and set everything down on the kitchen counter, glancing up at you with a soft smile.

You were standing still again, but everything in you was moving around you.

“Breakfast has arrived,” He looked into your eyes. He knew something was coming. “What happened?”

You swallowed hard. “I took them, Jack. The tests.”

His whole posture changed. “Wait, when? What’d they say?”

“I don’t know yet,” you said, quickly, almost breathless. “I took them maybe 20 seconds before you walked in. I just,I couldn’t wait. I didn’t want to sit here thinking about it anymore. I needed to know. I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you.”

He stepped closer, water still dripping from the hem of his sleeves. “No, no, it’s okay. I didn’t need to see you pee on a stick. I mean, I’m glad you did it. How long do they take? Three minutes, right?”

“Probably like a minute left.” You stood facing him, the air thick with tension.

“One more minute,” he whispered.

Your eyes glistened, tears not yet fallen, and in that moment, he reached out and wrapped his arms around you. Your body folded into his, cheek pressed to his chest, and his hand found the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair.

“We’ll be okay, babygirl,” he murmured. His voice was steady, but his heartbeat was the opposite. It pounded against your ear.

You didn’t think about the rain anymore. You didn’t think about breakfast. The outside world, gone in an instant.

Thirty seconds.

He kissed the top of your head.

Twenty.

You closed your eyes, grounding yourself in the way he smelled—like rain and shampoo from his morning shower.

Ten.

You pulled back slowly. His arms stayed around you. “Should we go look?”

He nodded, taking a breath that sounded more like a gulp. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t let go of your hand.

Together, you walked through the apartment, slow steps across the cold wood floor. Each one felt like it carried the weight of an entire future.

The morning light had shifted slightly—gold now, warmer, filling the tiny bathroom. The test sat there, small and silent, the screen face-up.

Neither of you looked at it yet. You were still watching each other.

“Okay,” you said, voice soft, shakey. “Let’s look at the same time.”

He nodded, breath unsteady. “Three… two… one.”

Your eyes dropped to the test together.

Pregnant.

You didn’t breathe. Felt as if your heart stopped in that moment.

Jack stared at it, unmoving, then slowly looked back at you. His face was pure shock.

“I think we’re gonna have a baby,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes glued to the test. Not blinking.

“Jack…”

He looked up at you. Down at the test again. Then back up to you. “Are you- are you sure? Should we maybe take another one? Just to be sure? Don’t we have two more tests?”

“I already did,” you said, reaching out with a shaky hand to lift the box from the counter, taking out the other tests, reading them carefully. “I took all of them. They all say the same thing. Pregnant.”

His mouth parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. And then, the corners of his lips curled upwards while his eyes lightened. “We’re gonna have a baby…I’m gonna be a dad?”

A slight laugh came out of you. “You’re gonna be a dad.”

He stepped forward and pulled you into him, lifting you off the floor just enough to spin you once in the tiny space. You laughed again, a real one this time, your tears began to fall onto his shoulders. He set you down gently, holding your face in his hands, kissing your lips.

“You’re gonna be a mom,” he whispered. “And you’re gonna be so amazing at it.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed and in love and terrified and full of something so much bigger than all of it. “We didn’t plan this,” you said.

“I know,” he said. “But plans change sometimes, and that’s okay.”

You put your head on his shoulder. “I’m scared,” you admitted.

“So am I,” he said. “But I’m more sure of you than I’ve ever been about anything.”

And with that, the storm outside faded to background noise.

And somehow, it felt like exactly where you were meant to be.

————————————————————

You both left the bathroom. The three tests still sitting on the bathroom counter.

The word sat between you like a fragile truth: Pregnant.

Jack held your hand as you walked back into the kitchen.

“I keep thinking I should be saying something,” he said softly, voice catching in his throat. “Something comforting. But all I can think about is how everything going to be changed.”

“It doesn’t feel real yet,” you whispered.

“I know.”

You stepped back against the kitchen counter. Head down, eyes staring at the tiled below.

“What do we do now?” you asked, your voice quieter than before, almost like you were afraid of the answer.

Jack didn’t speak for a moment. He just looked at you—the woman he was going to marry, the love of his life, now maybe the mother of his child.

“We eat breakfast,” he said finally, with a softness that made your chest ache. “And the we talk. We figure out the next step. One step at a time.”

“That’s your plan?”

“That’s the only one I’ve got right now, because if I start trying to plan out the next nine months, or twenty years, you’ll be taking me back to the ER.”

You exhaled, laughing through the tears. “Okay. Breakfast.”

“Come on. You’ve got a baby to feed now.”

The rain was still tapping lightly on the windows. Jack opened the brown bag, unwrapped a breakfast sandwich, setting it gently in front of you.

“Let’s go to the couch.”

You sat together on the couch, side by side. The world around you still at a stop.

Jack turned toward you, his arm resting along the back of the couch. “Are you okay?”

You chewed slowly, nodded once, then looked at him. “I think I will be. I’m still scared. I don’t think that’s going to go away for the rest of my life now. But I know I’m not alone.” You smiled softly at him.

“Never,” he said. “You’ll never be alone in this. Or anything for that matter.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder. For a few minutes, you just sat there in silence, the rain against the window the only sound.

And then, quietly you murmured, “I don’t even know where to start Jack.”

Jack’s hand found yours again, squeezing gently.

“Look, we just need to talk. About everything. And anything. You can’t shut me out. Tell me what you need, when you need it. You’re carrying my child now. Whatever you need, I’m there. I just need to know what’s going on in that head of yours. Okay?”

You nodded gently. Your hand lightly on your stomach—instinctively, like it was already a habit.

His eyes followed the movement, and he reached over to rest his hand gently over yours.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, voice quiet but steady. “Do you think maybe this is what was supposed to happen? I mean nothing we ever planned went our way. Maybe this is just what the universe has planned next for us.”

You looked at him for a long time. Saying nothing while thinking everything.

“Maybe,” you whispered. “Maybe this was exactly how the rest of our lives was meant to begin.”

————————————————————

Business as Usual

A baby wasn’t going to stop you from going to work. Not even Jack breathing down your neck any chance he got.

He watched you like a hawk ever since you saw that one little word of the test a week ago.

“Hey babygirl, how are you guys doing?”

You looked to the left and right, ensuring no one was close enough to hear the words that just came out of his mouth. “Jack I told you to stop saying that. Someone is going to hear you.”

“Sorry, just a habit already I guess. You excited for later?”

Your first OB appointment. Jack pulled some strings. Afterall, he has gained some respect since delivering multiple babies himself in the ED. One call, and you had a visit with the best attending OB in the hospital.

“Nervous, excited. Everything really. Mostly want to know how far along I am. Want to know which time it was.”

Jack gave you that half-smirk he always did when he was trying not to look too proud of himself.

“Well, you’ll know soon. He is the best OB around. He’s calm under pressure and blunt as hell. You’ll like him.”

“Well let’s hope he can keep a secret. You’ve been ready to tell everybody and anybody all week.

Jack raised both hands. “I’m just excited. Sue me.”

You paused, the soft echo of nurse chatter coming closer to you two. You could feel the weight of the night dragging—the long hours, the fake smiles, the secret growing inside of you.

“Just keep it cool, okay?” you said, your voice quieter now. “I haven’t wrapped my own head around it.”

Jack’s expression softened. “You don’t have to do this alone. Whatever happens today, I’ve got you.”

That stopped you.

You turned to look at him. Really look.

“I know,” you said.

The office was on the other side of the hospital. You two would need to find a way to sneak upstairs without anybody seeing which direction you had gone. And day shift was a lot busier than your regular nights.

“Just pretend you’re going to the bathroom in the corner. I’ll sneak over there to get you and we’ll go through the back.”

“Not going to work but, fine.”

You left first, avoiding anybody at all cost. He soon followed without stopping to talk to anybody. But Jack didn’t need to open his mouth to be seen.

“Where are those two going?” Langdon nodded over to Dana across the nurses station.

“No idea. Been acting weird all week since I caught them in the bathroom together.”

“That’s what the on call rooms are for.” Dana shot him a side eye that could be felt throughout the entire ER. “Or so I’ve heard.”

————————————————————

First Appointment

The walk to the OB floor felt longer than usual. Jack stood beside you, unusually quiet, hands stuffed in his pockets. Maybe he finally sensed how real this was starting to feel.

You glanced up at him. “You know we’re going to have to do this a lot right?”

He scoffed. “Good, I’ve gotta get my steps in. Besides, I’ve seen enough ultrasounds—I want to know if I’ve still got the eye for it.”

“Jack,” you warned, giving him a sideways glare.

“What? I’m just saying.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Soft pastel prints of sleepy newborns lined the walls.

You wrapped your arms across your stomach, unsure if you were protecting something or hiding it.

At the front desk, the nurse glanced between you and Jack when he gave your name.

“He’s with me,” you said quickly. She didn’t ask questions.

A few minutes later, you were in an exam room. Cold paper crinkling beneath you. The hum of a fetal monitor you weren't sure would pick anything up yet.

The nurse comes in, takes your vitals, and then leaves. You both sit quietly for a few minutes until the doctor enters.

“Wait, it’s a HIPAA violation for them to say that they saw us up here right?”

“Yeah of course, just calm down nobody saw us. And even if they did, let them talk. This is between us for now and it’s going to stay that way until we decide otherwise.”

Then came the knock.

The doctor entered like he owned the hospital—smart blue eyes, white coat already half open, clipboard in hand. He looked up and smiled politely.

“You must be the ED doc.”

Jack grinned. “Guilty.”

He raised an eyebrow. “He better not have promised anything I can’t deliver.”

You spoke for the first time in several minutes. “I just want to know what’s going on. How far I am. And that everything’s okay so far.”

His face softened. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do today.”

The screen came to life. Cold gel. Wand pressed just below your pelvis. Jacks hand never leaving yours. And then—There it was.

A flicker. A rhythm.

Jack leaned forward, lips parting like he wasn’t sure how to breathe. You didn’t even realize you’d been holding your own breath until it came out in a shaky laugh.

He pointed. “There’s the heartbeat. Measuring about…seven weeks. Everything looks good so far.” His eyes bounced around the screen.

You felt your eyes sting.

Seven weeks.

Jack whispered, “Holy shit…”

You didn’t say anything. Not yet.

But you squeezed his hand tight.

“I told you...”

Jack lightly laughed.

“Were we taking bets on how far along you are?”

“Something like that.”

“Was there a special occasion 7 weeks ago if I may ask?”

You said nothing. Just held up your left hand to show your engagement ring.

“Ah. That’ll do it. Trust me your not the first, definitely won’t be the last. Everything’s right on track so far. Take as long as you need in here. They’ll schedule your next appointment up front.”

After the doctor leaves the room, Jack leans back in the chair, arms crossed, clearly trying to hide his pride.

"So, seven weeks, huh? You hear that?”

You said nothing just shook your head at him as you sat up straight. “All because you couldn’t control yourself.”

Jack let out a laugh for the whole office to hear. “Well you did technically tell me to put a baby inside of you that night. Not like we’ve been doing anything to avoid this anyway.”

“I didn’t think it would actually happen though. Jack you literally finished inside of me once and now I’m going to have to push a baby out of me.”

“What can I say, I’ve got strong swimmers. You’re officially on the clock though.”

"It’s real now, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it’s real. And I have to say, I’m glad I didn’t mess that one up." He grins, trying to lighten the moment.

You smile at him, but there's something deeper in your gaze. “You’ve been a mess this week. But I’m glad you’re here."

His smile fades slightly as he meets your eyes. “You know, I’m not going anywhere, right?

"I know." You reach out, giving his hand a small squeeze. “You've made that pretty clear." You said as you looked down at your ring.

You started the walk back out. Once the elevator doors shut, he turned to you.

"So, what’s the next step? Do I need to start buying baby stuff yet?"

"Maybe wait until we get past the first trimester? But you’re right, we should probably start thinking about it. I don't even know where to begin."

"Well, you’ve got the doctor on speed dial now. And I started looking where to buy a crib.”

Rolling your eyes, “Of course you did.”

Back at the apartment, a familiar sense of calm falls over you as the door clicks shut behind you.

"I’m still trying to process everything."

He follows you in, kicking off his shoes and rubbing his face.

"Same here. You know, I’ve seen so many ultrasounds, but that one—seeing it flicker like that—there’s something about it, right? Its different when it’s real."

Sitting down on the couch, your hands resting gently over your stomach.

"It’s like it’s not just a picture anymore. It’s a baby. Our baby. It feels like everything changed in an instant."

He sits beside you, glancing at your hand over your stomach, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You’re right. Everything is different now. And I’m not saying it’s all going to be easy, but I think we’re going to be okay."

"I think we’re already figuring it out."

"I’m in this with you. Whatever comes next—every moment of it—I’m here."

"You sure about that? You know this is going to get crazy, right?"

"I’ve seen the chaos in the ER. I’m sure. You’re going to be a great mom. And me? I’m going to be an even better dad."

“Jack, what about the wedding? We’re supposed to go look at venues next week but, I don’t know if I want a big wedding now.” You glance down at your stomach. “You know with the baby and all?”

“So we’ll do something smal, intimate. I’ll take you to the courthouse and marry you right now if you really want.”

“Maybe not that small.” You laughed. “Maybe a dozen of our closet friends. The most important people in our lives, the ones that brought us together.”

“You tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”

———————————————————————

One Month Later

Making your way through the ER, trying to act normal. The usual chaos of the hospital surrounds you, but it feels quieter today. You catch Jack’s eye across the room, and he gives you a wink. You smile back, heart racing for a different reason now.

As he approaches you, his voice drops low. "You okay?"

You glance around, ensuring nobody's listening before giving a small nod. "Yeah, just tired. But I’m okay. It feels weird not saying anything yet."

"Yeah. But we’ve got time. We don’t have to rush. You’ll tell the world when you’re ready. Just one more week until the first trimester is over. And you can tell whoever you want to tell. You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you both."

Feeling the weight of his words, you step closer to him, allowing the brief moment of connection to ground you in the middle of the chaos.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"Probably lose your mind. Good thing I’m here to keep it together for you."

"Yeah. Good thing."

———————————————————————

13 Weeks Down

You sit with a cup of coffee in your hands, feeling the weight of the decision you’ve been avoiding. It’s time. Jack's been saying you should do it, and now you know you can't hide it forever. The quiet hum of the lounge is filled with your thoughts as you look around at your coworkers.

He leans in, “So, you’re gonna do it, right?"

Raises an eyebrow at him, trying not to give away the nerves creeping up your spine. "You’re not making this any easier."

"You’re the one who wanted to wait. Now you’re just stalling."

Glances at the clock, taking a deep breath before standing up. Your hands are a little clammy, but you press on. You’re doing this. It's time.

You walk into the break room, where a few coworkers are hanging out, sipping on their drinks. Langdon, Dana, Mel all chatting.

Langdon looks up from his phone as you enter. “There she is. How’s the baby-making project going?"

You freeze for a second, biting your lip. You can hear Jack’s voice in your head telling you not to hide anymore. You take a step forward, giving him a look before turning to the others.

“What’d you just say?”

“Well you guys were locked in the bathroom together a couple weeks ago. Figure that was the whole idea.”

"Actually, that’s a - that’s what I wanted to talk about."

Pauses mid-bite, eyebrow raising as she studies you closely. “Are you serious right now? You’re pregnant?" Said Dana.

You nod, a small, shaky laugh escaping you. "Yeah, I am. Thirteen weeks actually.” Your hand going up to rest on your stomach.

His eyes widen as a grin spreads across his face. “Well, hell. Congratulations kid! You know I’ve got all kinds of dad jokes ready to go for you." Langdon jumped out of his seat coming over to give you a hug.

Mel looks at you, her expression softening. "You’re really pregnant. Wow. You okay? That’s a lot to take in at work.”

Slightly chuckling, trying to hide the nerves. "Yeah, well, a little bit of a secret for the last couple of weeks. But I wanted to share it with all of you."

"Don’t worry, we won’t make it weird. Besides, I’ve seen the baby fever in the ER. It was only a matter of time before one of us jumped in."

Jack steps into the conversation, his usual cocky demeanor returning. “Hey, don’t act like you didn’t know. She’s been glowing. You know the signs. Not like we were trying but we also weren’t not trying, if you know what I mean.”

Dana tilts her head, eyes narrowing with a smile. “Huh surprised you kept quiet for this long Jack.”

Shrugs, hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t say a word.”

“Yeah except for saying “how are you guys doing?” when it was only her around.”

“I told you you were too loud. But really thanks, you guys. It’s a lot, and yeah, it feels like everything is changing. But I’m glad you’re all supportive. I’m still figuring it out, but I wanted you to know."

“Alright so I can’t keep that a secret forever. So, what’s the plan? Are you telling anyone else yet?" Said Mel excitedly as she sat back down.

Glances around, your stomach flipping just slightly at the thought of telling the rest of the hospital. “Well we’re heading to Robby’s office next, just wanting to tell you all before anyone left for the night.”

Jack leaned against the doorframe. “He’s gonna be mad he wasn’t first to find out.”

Langdon looking like he’s got an idea brewing in his head say, “Well, now that we know, when do we get the reveal party? You know we’re going to throw one, right?"

Laughs softly, shaking your head.

"Wait, what about the wedding?”

"Well we actually want to keep it small, maybe a dozen or so people. Probably soon actually. So maybe now’s a good time to pick out outfits.”

The walk over to Robby’s office was silent. Jack was taking the lead on this one.

“Hey brother! You heading out of here soon?”

“Stupid bureaucratic bullshit to wrap up first.” He glanced up at you both. “Why do you both look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you saw a ghost.”

“Well, we’ve a- kind of have some news to tell you. Pretty big news actually.”

Robby looked over to you. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

You smiled. “How’d you know?”

He started to get up from behind the desk. “Been doing this long enough to tell. Come here you guys.”

He hugged you first. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.”

Then he turned to Jack, pulling him into a hug too.

“Brother, I’m happy for you. You deserve this. All of it.” With his hand on both of your shoulders, he said, “That kids lucky to have you both.”

“Thanks man, means a whole lot coming from you.”

“Not to ruin the mood but, the wedding?”

As you walk through the ER, feeling lighter, you catch Jack’s eye again. This time, there’s a quiet reassurance in his expression.

"So, how was that? You feel okay?”

Sighs, smiling softly. “Better than I thought actually. I was scared, but they’re all in. Just feel a lot better about everything now"

Leans in slightly, a knowing look on his face. “Told you. You’re never alone in this."

Smiling as you walk side-by-side. “I know that now.”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, the wedding. We’re thinking small. Couple close friends really.”

“Probably sometime soon,” you added. “Before everything gets too crazy.”

Robby smirked. “So you’re telling me you’re going to try and pull off a wedding and prepare for a baby? That’s some serious multitasking.”

“You act like we haven’t worked in this ER for years,” Jack shot back with a grin.

“Fair,” Robby said, raising his hands in surrender. “Just don’t expect me to wear a tux. I’m not sweating through one of those things in a park somewhere.”

You laughed. “Noted. No tux. You’ll be lucky if we even go as formal as khakis.”

Robby leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, still smiling. “I mean it, though—whatever you need, I’m here. Baby stuff, wedding stuff, moral support when the hormones kick in and Jack starts crying about everything little thing.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I don’t cry man.”

You nudged him playfully. “We’ll take all the help we can get.”

Robby pushed off the desk. “Then consider this my official offer to be whatever you need during the next couple months.”

Jack gave him a look then glanced over at you and took a deep breath. “We really do appreciate it, brother.”

As you two walked out of the office, finger intertwined, you turned to Jack. “What happened to asking him to officiate our wedding?”

“Next time.”

———————————————————————

Planning

The next morning, the two of you sat on the couch, takeout containers scattered on the coffee table, your laptop balanced between you.

“So,” Jack said, stretching an arm behind your shoulders, “Do we want to get married before you start showing or after?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that I won’t look as good with a baby bump?”

He smirked. “The opposite actually. People won’t be able to look away.”

You laughed, nudging him. “Nice save. I think before. I mean always wanted a fall wedding anyway and its the middle of October so why not do this as soon as we possibly can?”

He grinned. “Perfect timing. Fall leaves, crisp air, soft sweaters—you in a dress and me not sweating through a shirt for once.”

You chuckled. “I’m not making any promises about the weather.”

Jack clicked something on the screen. “Okay, so venue, you really want to ask Robby and Collin’s if we can use their backyard?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “She’s already got the twinkle lights and fire pit. It’s cozy and it feels like us.”

He nodded. “And we get built-in charm from the trees turning.”

You reached over and jotted something in the computer. “Add extra blankets. Maybe a hot chocolate bar?”

Jack looked impressed. “That’s dangerously festive.”

“It is October Jack, almost Halloween. Just nothing scary” you said with a grin.

He laughed. “Food?”

“I’m sure we could find a caterer on short notice. But something seasonal—gourmet grilled cheese, tomato soup, maybe even apple cider donuts.”

Jack let out a happy sigh. “Marrying you just keeps getting better.”

You bumped his shoulder. “What about the ceremony? You still want Robby to officiate?”

“Yeah,” he said, without hesitation. “He’s got the right mix of sarcastic and sentimental. I’ll talk to him when we go back to work.”

“You could just call him now, stop procrastinating. You missed your chance last time.”

“Alright, let’s just finish this, then I’ll call.”

You were quiet for a moment, listening to the wind brush the windows. Then Jack asked, “What are you thinking for your dress?”

“Something simple I guess. I don’t know I just always imagined some type of fairy tale wedding in my head. Just going to scale it down into something less magical now.”

“You are magical,” he said, leaning over to kiss your temple. “I’ll wear whatever matches your vibe. Just not a tux.”

“Deal,” you said with a laugh. “And no heels for me. I’m not falling in the grass.”

“God, I love you,” he said, dead serious.

You looked over at him, your heart full. “I love you too.”

He tapped the laptop, eyes back on the screen. “Okay, so: backyard, hot chocolate, donuts, and Robby’s officiating. That’s basically everything.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“We’re gonna pull off the coziest, most chaotic October wedding ever aren’t we?’

He smiled down at you. “And our kid’s going to hear about it every fall for the rest of their life.”

“Now call Robby.”

Jack had his phone on speaker, resting on the coffee table between you, laptop closed now that most of the planning was done.

“Is this a medical emergency?” Robby’s voice came through, dry and unmistakably tired. “Because if it is, I’m hanging up.”

Jack smirked. “Nope. No emergencies. Just your favorite engaged couple calling with an exciting proposition.”

There was a beat of silence. “If this is a weird sex thing, I’m hanging up faster.”

“It’s not a sex thing, Robby.”

“Good. Because I’m not that kind of friend. What’s going on?”

You could hear Collin’s laughing in the background.

Jack leaned forward. “We’ve got the wedding mostly planned. We’re aiming for 2 weeks from now actually. Uh- wanted to know if we could borrow your backyard?”

“And we want you to officiate,” you added, watching Jack’s face light up as you said it.

There was a longer pause this time.

“And I want you to be my best man.”

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Jack said. “We want someone who knows us. Who’s been through a lot with us. And honestly, someone who won’t turn the whole ceremony into a cheesy rom-com script.”

Robby was quiet for a moment. “Well… shit.”

You smiled. “That a yes?”

“That’s a hell yes to all of it.” he said, voice softer now. “You sure you want me standing up there?”

“We couldn’t picture anyone else,” you said.

“You’ve seen us at our worst,” Jack added. “It makes sense you’d be the one to see us at our best too.”

There was a brief pause before Robby spoke again, and this time, you could hear the emotion just beneath his usual sarcasm.

“I’d be honored. Just tell me what to wear and what not to say.”

“Something warm, and please don’t lead with a joke about our sex life,” Jack said.

“No promises.”

You all laughed, and for a moment it was just easy—friends on a call, something steady and joyful settling into place.

Robby cleared his throat. “Alright. Guess I better start writing something. This kid’s going to want to hear the story someday, right?”

You looked at Jack, who was already looking at you.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “They will.”

After talking for a few minutes, you two hung up.

“Now call Langdon.”

“Why am I calling Langdon?”

“Because he’s obviously going to be your maid of honor.”

“First of all, it’s man of honor, and fine I’ll call him.”

Langdon picked up before the first ring even finished. “Hello my favorite night shift attending.”

“Lang,” you said with a laugh, “Jacks right next to me.”

Jack muffled his face in a pillow, chuckling. Langdon exhaled loudly. “Okay, okay. You’re still my favorite. But what’s up? What can I do for you guys?”

You smiled. “I want you to be my man of honor at the wedding in 2 weeks.”

Silence. Which, for Langdon, was a rare and powerful thing.

“NO. Stop. Are you serious?”

“Very,” you said. “You’ve been in my corner since day one. You’ve heard every doubt, every freak-out, every detail of this whole thing. You held my hand during too many of my bad moments. And I want you to walk me down the aisle.”

There was a sniff on the other end.

“Langdon?” Jack said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’M FINE,” Langdon said, clearly not fine. “I’m just—ugh. Damn it. Why’d you have to make this emotional? I was already picturing myself in navy linen and now I’m crying on my couch in pajamas.”

You smiled. “So that’s a yes?”

“It’s the biggest yes I’ve ever said without a ring involved,” he managed, voice thick.

“God. You guys are gonna ruin my mascara that day.”

Jack leaned in. “At least it’ll be waterproof, right?”

Langdon scoffed. “Please.”

You all laughed again, and for the second time in an hour, something clicked into place—another piece of your heart, chosen and confirmed.

“I love you both,” Langdon said, softer now. “Thanks for making me part of this.”

“You always were,” you said.

After a few more minutes of chatter and enthusiastic wedding suggestions, Langdon did bring up matching socks to Jack, you hung up.

Jack looked over at you. “Feeling good?”

You nodded. “Feeling really damn good.”

The circle was forming. And with each call, the day felt a little more real, a little more beautiful, and a lot more yours.

———————————————————————

The Day Before

The night before the wedding, everything felt like it was humming with anticipation��quiet, yet brimming with energy. You both had decided to spend the night and Robby and Collin’s place but, on opposite sides of the house. Though the last few hours had been filled with final touches, decorations, and excited chatter from your friends who’d gathered around to help, there was a peacefulness to it all.

It was just you now, sitting in bed, the soft glow of the lamp warming the room.

Jack had already gone to bed—he was giving you your space to unwind, but there had been something he wanted you to have before the morning came.

You heard the soft creak of the door behind you.

“Hey,” Jack’s voice, low and careful. “You still awake?”

“Barely,” you answered with a soft smile, catching his reflection in the mirror. He was standing in the doorway, holding something in his hand.

“What’s that?” you asked.

He stepped closer, looking almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how to present it. “It’s the note I shoved back in my pocket the day I proposed to you.”

You sat up higher in bed, taking in the sight of him—his silver hair a little messy, his eyes still bright despite the late hour. He had a nervous energy about him, the kind you hadn’t seen in a while.

“What’s in it?” you asked again, your voice quieter now, sensing the significance of the moment.

Jack held up a folded piece of paper, the edges frayed. “I- I actually wrote it right after we met. It’s from when I realized how I felt about you. My therapist wanted me to write down my feelings. I just turned them into a letter.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. "What do you mean? Why didn’t you ever tell me about it?"

“I didn’t want to freak you out,” he said with a little chuckle. “It’s just, I thought maybe it would be something you'd want to read now. I don’t know. Couldn’t give you this in the beginning. You would’ve thought I was crazy.”

He placed the note in your hands and stepped back, giving you space. His gaze never left you as you carefully unfolded it.

The writing was messy, a little rushed, but it was undeniably Jack—the thoughts were raw, honest, and vulnerable in a way you hadn't expected.

Dear You,

I don’t know if you remember the weather that day, or any of the cases you worked or saw. But I can recall every single moment from that initial day. The day that changed everything.

It was a Monday—though in the ER, days of the week don’t mean much. Everything was loud, alarms blaring, overhead pages, a trauma code already in motion. I had just finished his night shift, brain running on caffeine and muscle memory.

Your hair pulled back in a messy braid, eyes locked onto Robby giving the same speech he does to every group of interns.You weren’t trying to be noticed. You stayed to the back of the group. You kept quiet, letting everybody else do all the talking. But something about you made everything in me stop all at once. You smiled at something someone said — a quiet laugh, the kind people save for inside their own mind — and I remember thinking, God, I hope she does that again.

We barely spoke that first day. Just enough for me to hear your voice, just enough for me to wonder how someone I’d never met could already feel so familiar. I didn’t know your name yet. Didn’t know your story, your laugh, your quirks. I didn’t know you were the kind of person who would stay after a code just to make sure your team was okay. That you’d memorize every nurse’s birthday. That you’d carry every loss quietly, but feel every win like it mattered. I told you that your excitement to be here would be short-lived but, just as you always do, you proved me wrong.

I didn’t fall in love with you all at once. It was slow. I fell more in love every time you called me out when I needed it, and every time you stood next to me when I didn’t deserve it. Every time we passed off patients like a well-rehearsed dance. Every time your shoulder brushed mine at the nurse’s station and it meant more than it should have.

I fell in love with the way you carry your strength—quiet, unshakable. And the way you let yourself fall apart when no one else is looking, trusting me enough to see it. I didn’t realize how deep I was until I couldn’t imagine walking into a trauma bay and not looking for you first. Until every shift without you felt off.

And now, here we are. One night before we promise each other everything. But I think, in a way, I promised you a long time ago. In that first look. In that first nod. In all the moments in between.I don’t need vows to tell you I love you.I’ve been loving you this whole time.

But that day, it’s funny to think we were strangers that morning. Because now I can’t remember what it feels like not to know you. And maybe you didn’t notice anything. Maybe for you, it was just your last medical school rotation. But for me? It was the beginning of the rest of my life.

So, thank you for choosing this hospital. For being exactly who you are, without knowing you were changing someone else’s life just by being in the building.

I think my heart knew you before I did. And it’s been choosing you every single second, minute, and hour ever since. And it will, until the end.

Love,

Dr. Jack Abbott

You smiled softly, brushing your fingers over the handwriting. The words felt like a reflection of everything you’d come to understand about Jack over the years—his deep, unwavering certainty that what you shared was fate.

“I had no idea you wrote this,” you said, voice full of wonder.

Jack shrugged, the smile on his lips softening. “I didn’t want to forget it. And, uh- when I was trying to think of the right words for tomorrow, I thought this was a good place to start.”

Your heart squeezed as you stood, crossing the short distance between you and him.

You kissed him softly, tenderly, before pulling away just enough to look up at him.

“I think you’ve more than proved it,” you whispered, your hands resting on his chest.

Jack’s hand came up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I meant every word, you know. Still do. I’m still here. And I always will be.”

You rested your forehead against his, eyes closing as a sense of peace washed over you. The weight of the moment, the years that had passed, the future waiting for you both—it all felt perfect.

“I love you,” you whispered.

He smiled again, pulling you in closer. “And I love you.”

You leaned into him, your heart full, your mind racing with everything you’d already been through together. And tomorrow, when you stood in front of everyone, ready to promise forever, this was only the beginning.

“Stay”

He pulled his head back. “What?”

“I don’t care about all the superstitions about seeing each other before I walk down the aisle. I want you to stay with me tonight. Please.”

Jack stepped closer, like he still wasn’t sure if you meant it. “You sure?”

You nodded.

A pause. Then the softest smile broke across his face.

“Of course I’ll stay with you tonight.”

You lay there in silence for a while, your hand finding his under the sheets.

“You know,” you whispered, “I remember the first time I saw you, too.”

He turned slightly, his breath brushing your hair. “Yeah?”

You smiled into the dark. “You looked exhausted. Like you’d carried the whole ER on your back all night. But you still paused just long enough to see me. No one else did but, you stopped.”

Jack kissed your forehead, and it felt like everything in the world slowed.

“I guess I’ve been stopping for you ever since,” he murmured.

And together, in that borrowed room, you drifted into sleep—not alone, not apart. Just together.

Exactly where you were always meant to be.

———————————————————————

The Wedding Day

The backyard was glowing from the upstairs window. Collins, Mel, and Dana had all helped you get ready.

Twinkle lights were strung between trees with fiery orange leaves, flickering gently as dusk settled in. The scent of hot chocolate, and woodsmoke hung in the air, mingling with laughter and the soft rustle of shoes over fallen leaves.

You stood in front of the mirror in your dress, the one that you tried on first. You took a deep breath, admiring the way the fabric fell around you, the intricate lace that made the whole thing feel just a little bit magical.

The room had been full of movement and chatter just moments ago. Collins fussing with your veil like she was prepping a sterile field, Mel fixing a rogue strand of hair with the same focus she’d use to suture a laceration, and Dana kneeling at your feet, carefully adjusting the hem of your dress as if it were something sacred.

“You know,” Dana had said with a half-smile as she fastened your bracelet, “this might be the first time I’ve seen your hands not in gloves.”

Mel snorted, still holding a bobby pin between her teeth. “I’m just impressed we got her to sit still for more than three minutes.”

“You try keeping someone still when she’s about to marry Jack,” Collins said, adjusting the veil one last time. “Man looked like he was going to pass out when I saw him downstairs this morning.”

They laughed—and so did you—but there was something underneath it. A shared understanding. These women had been with you through the long nights, the traumas you never talked about, the break room breakdowns and post-shift breakfasts. They knew what it meant for someone like you to find someone like him.

Mel came to your side and offered you a tissue, dabbing the corner of her own eyes with a teasing, “If you cry now, I swear we’re redoing the whole face.”

You laughed—really laughed—and felt the nerves shift. Not disappear, just settle. Like everything else today, you didn’t need perfection. You just needed to be present.

Dana glanced out the window. “Lights are on. They’re ready.”

“Are you?” Collins asked.

You turned back to your reflection—three women behind you, leaves glowing outside the window, and the promise of him waiting just beyond it all.

“I am,” you said, voice strong and sure. “I really, really am.”

They left you so you could have moment to process before going downstairs.

Behind you, no bridesmaids, just Langdon, dressed in a navy suit with a matching pocket square.

But it was Robby who stood next to you, his eyes soft, his hands steady as he helped you adjust your veil.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, looking you over one last time.

You smiled, a little nervous, a little excited. “I think I am.”

The air felt charged with expectation, and even though you hadn’t seen Jack yet, you could feel him nearby, his presence comforting.

Robby handed you a small, folded piece of paper. “You’ll need this.”

You glanced at it, unsure. “What’s this?”

“It’s the vows you wrote,” Robby said, his voice teasing but affectionate. “Since you were about to forget these upstairs.”

You laughed softly, tucking the note into the pocket of your dress. The warmth of his hand on your arm steadied you. “Thanks, Robby. For everything.”

He gave a rare, soft smile. “Always.”

Outside, you could hear conversation, the last-minute adjustments being made. Your heart raced as you took one more breath, finally feeling the full weight of the moment.

The music shifted, the soft notes of your song playing through the speakers as you took your first step toward the door. You looked at Langdon, who gave you an exaggerated thumbs up, and smiled back.

Then, you stepped into the dwindling sunlight.

Jack stood at the altar, his back straight, his smile crooked as he turned to look at you.

The crowd was still, waiting.

The soft rustle of the wind in the trees was the only sound as you walked toward him, every step feeling like it was in sync with your heartbeat.

You locked eyes with him the moment you stepped into view, and it was like time slowed down. His expression was soft, full of love, of awe. You could see the way his lips twitched as he tried not to smile too widely, his eyes welling up just before his tears started to fall.

You took the final steps to stand beside him, your hand trembling slightly as you placed it in his. He squeezed your fingers, grounding you.

Robby cleared his throat before speaking in his usual dry tone, but you could hear the emotion behind it.

“We’re gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of two extraordinary people. Their journey together has been nothing short of remarkable. It has been filled with laughter, tears, challenges, and triumphs. But today is the moment where you commit to each other in front of the people who love you, to continue building a future together, hand in hand.”

You could feel Jack’s hand tighten around yours, and you turned to him, meeting his gaze.

He glanced between the two of you. “Jack, you once told me you weren’t the marrying type. And then, one night after a shift, you started talking about someone. And you didn’t stop talking about her. For months. I don’t even think you noticed. That was when I knew—this wasn’t just a crush. It was a shift. A reroute. A knowing.”

Then he turned to you, eyes soft. “And you. You always knew who you were. But Jack helped you rest in who you were. You didn’t shrink. You expanded. He made space—and you filled it. With grace, stubbornness, and that exact tone of voice that can make an intern cry and a surgeon back down.”

More laughter.

“But seriously,” Robby said, quieter now. “What you two have, it’s rare. You’ve already seen more life and loss than most couples do in a lifetime. You’ve seen each other covered in blood, exhausted, snappy, sleepless. And yet, you chose softness. You chose coming back. Over and over again.”

“Since you’ll be reading your vows to each other at a later time in private, I guess we can get to the most important part of the day.”

“Jack,” Robby said, turning to him. “Do you take her to be your partner in life, in love, and in all things, to cherish her, to support her, and to continue growing with her every day, no matter what the future holds?”

Jack took a deep breath, his voice steady but filled with emotion as he said, “I do.”

Robby turned to you. “And do you take Jack to be your partner in life, to laugh with him, to comfort him, and to support him, even when it’s hard? To love him fiercely, just as he loves you?”

You felt your chest tighten, but you smiled, nodding as your voice came out a little shaky but clear. “I do.”

Robby smiled, a little choked up himself. “Then, by the power vested in me by the internet, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss the bride.”

The moment Jack leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, everything felt like it fell into place.

The cheers from your friends and family around you filled the air, but you barely heard them.

The world, for that moment, was just the two of you—together, as it had always been meant to be.

When you pulled away, your foreheads rested together, and you could feel his heart racing in the same rhythm as yours. The crowd was still cheering, but it was as if you were in your own little world.

Jack whispered, just loud enough for you to hear, “I love you. You were worth the wait.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread

through you. “I love you too. And I always will.”

———————————————————————

After the Ceremony

The reception was everything you could have hoped for. Filled with laughter, stories shared, and friends and family gathered together. There were toasts, dancing, and endless smiles, but underneath it all, the knowledge that you had just taken the first official step of a lifetime together.

Later, as the night wound down and the last of the guests trickled out, Jack found you outside under the stars, admiring what you two had pulled off in just two weeks. He took your hand, pulling you into his arms as you both gazed at the sky.

“I think this was the perfect day,” you whispered. Jack kissed your temple, holding you a little tighter. “It’s only the beginning.”

Your heart knew that everything, all the love and promises, had led to this perfect moment. You had found your person. And together, you would face whatever came next.

And somewhere just beneath the joy and laughter, a tiny flutter in your belly reminded you: the best part was still on the way.

———————————————————————

Hope yall enjoyed this one! Pretty sappy. Think in the next chapter were gonna see how the pregnancy hormones kick in. Don't know, Jack might have a little bit of a pregnancy kink, who knows.

Let me now what you think down below please!

#the pitt #dr jack abbot #dr langdon #frank langdon #jack abbot fanfic #ao3 #dr robinavitch #jack abbot x reader #dr robby #jack abbot x you #jack abbot #micheal robinavitch #hbo max #robby robinavitch #heather collins #dr melissa king #mel king

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