#Not until i finish whatever task it is i have

[impishjesters]

Insecurities

Ship: Jax x Reader, Ragatha x Pomni (background) CW(s): insecurities, vulnerable Jax, hurt no comfort(?), angst/reality check, cliff hanger, Zooble is briefly an ass and regrets it A/N: Apparently, I started writing this back when this account first started. It was quickly abandoned for whatever reason, and with no clue what its direction was, I simply left it as a cliffhanger because I'm evil. Not my best work.

Today was the day Pomni finally confessed to Ragatha.

After months of the two nearly attached at the hip, Pomni finally caved and came to you and Gangle for help, wanting to do something special. The poor girl was filled with so many emotions that it took the two of you countless reassurances that Ragatha returned her feelings

Pomni wanted to do something for just the two of them, mumbling that it’d be less embarrassing if Ragatha turned her down with no one else around. Mainly so Jax couldn’t use it as blackmail—even after you told her that you wouldn’t let that happen.

That said, she made you hide nearby, out of sight from Ragatha’s view, but still somewhere she could see to give her the confidence to confess. And it was a sight to behold.

Pomni was a mess. Her confession was all over the place, but even without seeing Ragatha’s expression, you could tell she was flustered as well. The moment Ragatha returned her feelings, you shot the two a silent “congrats”. Pomni made brief eye contact with you while they hugged, and you mouthed “I’m proud of you” before leaving the two lovebirds alone.

It wasn’t your place to spread the news; they’d come out when they wanted to. With that task done, you slipped off to find your mischievous boyfriend. Which didn’t take long if the cries of poor Gangle were anything to go by.

Hours passed since the confession, and Jax had taken off to do whatever questionable thing he was going to do, leaving you alone in your room to fend for the boredom on your own. When nothing felt right or entertaining, you settled on the bed, the lights dimmed as if lying down for a nap.

Your eyes closed, but sleep never came. What did come was the muffled sound of a door opening and then slamming shut, and not long after, your bedroom door flew open and slammed shut behind the individual storming inside.

The blanket fell to your lap as you bolted upright to see that your sudden guest was Jax. That slam must’ve been him going to his room to see you weren’t there before heading over here. But why was he slamming—ooookay, screw that question.

“Jax, what’s wrong?”

Jax stormed over to your bed and climbed up until he was over you, pushed you down, and dropped himself on top, burying his face into your chest. His only response was a muffled groan into the fabric. He wanted to tell you, but his brain was still reeling, and his emotions weren’t in check.

You didn’t press him for a response, and he gave his silent thanks. One of the things he loved about you was that you never pressured him into saying anything. You waited until he was comfortable, even if it took days.

The tips of your fingers gently rubbed and scratched at the top and back of his head. It was funny, really, how he was a rabbit but didn’t have an ounce of fur on him. No, his skin was an odd mix of some sort of squishy silicone, and despite the smooth shine, it had more of a matte-like finish. It definitely felt like an odd combination of things to touch on a person, but you’ve long since grown accustomed to his odd flesh, just like he undoubtedly had grown used to your own.

Occasionally, the tips of your fingers would scratch around the base of an ear and gently ghost the shell of said ear, and every time, Jax nearly shuddered. The repetitive motion, along with the silence, gave him the time needed to formulate his thoughts and figure out his feelings.

And of course, it was an unfamiliar feeling, a bitter one that made him want to lash out and do something more impulsive than normal. A feeling he couldn’t quite put a name to.

“Ragatha and Pomni are dating,” he sighed, turning his head slightly.

You hum, it’s old news to you by this point, but this wasn’t about that. “Oh yeah? I’m glad, those two are cute together.”

“Hmm..” The gentle scratches never stopped, and it had him wanting to return the act somehow. His arms crept up the bed to your waist, and he gently palmed the flesh. Not enough to tickle, but enough to give a gentle squeeze, an almost kneading-like gesture. “How long do you think it’ll last?”

“Jax, I’m not betting on their relationship…”

“And I’m not asking you to, it’s a serious question.”

His tone is worrying, it’s soft, and as much as you loathe to say it, frail. Part of you wants to outright ask him what’s wrong, but the other part knows that this might be his brain’s way of getting there.

“I don’t know how long it will last,” and it’s the truth, “but I hope they last a long, long time. Those girls deserve happiness, whether it’s being trapped in here or free in the real world.”

Free in the real world? That’s fun to laugh at, there’s no way they’d stay together if that happened. They’re different people out there compared to who they’ve been forced to become in here. Who knows where either of them lives, or how they’d even find each other if that happened? Would they even remember? If names couldn’t be remembered coming in, who’s to say something wouldn’t be forgotten when leaving?

“Yeah, and what about us?”

The question is so quiet you almost miss it. “What about us?”

“How long do you think we’ll be together?”

Oh. Oh.

Your heart aches at the question, at its implications. Jax has been vulnerable with you before, but never this vulnerable, this raw. Your hands find his cheeks, and he reluctantly lets you lift his face, but his eyes look anywhere but at you.

“Jax,” your voice is watery and he hates it, “honey.. I’d never leave you, stuck in this place or free out there. I’d find you.” Your hands start to shake, and he squeezes your sides before pulling back to straddle you, his own hands engulfing your smaller ones.

“It might not be possible,” he exhales, “there’s no proof of what’ll happen. We might not be where we were when we vanished, we might not rem—” His words shake as he speaks until his voice cracks, it fucking cracks.

“I don’t care, this is us in here. Sure, we forgot our names, but I know—I know that when we get out of here we’ll still have these memories.” It’s been a while since you arrived, and the memory is a bit foggy at times, but you remember where you were and what you were doing. It scares you to think one day you won’t remember, maybe that’s why he—oh, he’s been here a lot longer than you have.

Jax has been here long enough that there’s a high possibility that he doesn’t remember…

Your silence worries him enough to finally make eye contact, and he can see you putting the pieces together. He’s been here long enough that his memories of before get fuzzy. He can vaguely remember what he looked like, what his life was like. And if he thinks hard enough, he can remember roughly what his living situation was like. But at this rate, it feels like all of that will vanish in no time at all.

“I won’t leave you.” It’s soft, barely above a whisper, but Jax hears it and leans further into your touch. “I know that I’ll remember you, so even if you forget me, I’ll find you all over again and make you fall in love with me all over again.”

Oh, there’s that word again, the one that makes him feel things. The L word.

He’s crying and he hates it, hates feeling this vulnerable, hates the wet trickle on his cheeks before it vanishes into your hands. You don’t comment on it. You’re not doing much better after all, he can see your own unshed tears.

At this moment, you are stronger than him in his mind, and he’s silently grateful he’s not having to do this alone.

“What if you don’t like who I am out there?”

“I don’t care what you look like Jax, for fuck sake your a six-foot-two purple rabbit with a grin that could rival the Cheshire cat.” A wet chuckle falls out of him as he sinks down to lean closer to your face.

That’s sweet and all, but it’s not what he meant.

“I meant,” he sighs and stares directly at you, “what if you don’t like who I am?” Sure, you know him now, this rabbit-like avatar he’s stuck in, but he’s different out there—he knows it. His grin isn’t this animated, and his facial expressions are different. He’s even harder to get a read on and—

“What if you don’t like who I am either?”

“Wha—what?”

“You heard me, what if you don’t like who I am out there?”

Now, normally, he’d say he might agree with you, but there’s a gut feeling that he couldn’t find himself hating you. “I don’t think that��s possible…”

“Finally, something we’re in agreement on.” It’s a light-hearted tease, and the two of you share a silent chuckle before he buries his face into your neck, your arms slipping to wrap tightly around him.

“I can’t promise it’ll be easy, I doubt Caine has the power to make it easy enough that we just—” you snap your fingers,”—and poof we’re back out there with all our memories intact and go about our day.” As much as you’d wish that were the case, Caine only has so much power in this place. “But I won’t stop until I find you, even if our memories are gone, I’ll know in my heart that something is wrong. And if our memories are left as is, then I’ll find you even sooner.”

It’s mushy, the longer you talk, the more his stomach, heart, and brain are doing this weird thing, and a part of him wishes he had never even spoken up.

When he’d first heard the girls were dating, he laughed, and made a comment about enjoying it while it lasted because the moment they all get out—if they got out—that relationship is gonna go down the drain. Not that he really thought you guys were getting out, he was just being an asshole like always and stirring the pot.

It was all fun and games to him until Zooble spoke. They used you against him.

“That’s funny coming from you, who’s to say they won’t leave you the second we’re out? I don’t know what they see in you. If you’re this awful in here, I can’t imagine what you’re like out there.”

It was uncalled for, and truthfully, a lot harsher than they meant it. Zooble’s mouth worked faster than their brain did, and it came out with far too much venom. If Jax had that little faith in the girls’ relationship, what did that say about his own relationship? Zooble had always silently worried that you were just being strung along, Jax was the type of person—in their opinion—to toss someone away when they were no longer entertaining.

Jax hadn’t even replied to the comment. He wanted to, but there were too many things that wanted to leave his mouth at once, and his brain was still reeling from the statement. His usual quick-witted self was rendered silent, and that set a few of the others on edge.

“H-hey.. I’m sure Zooble didn’t mean it like that..” Ragatha nervously laughed, rubbing her hands together. “I’m sure the two of you will be together even out there. They really care about you after all.” She still had her doubts and questioned what exactly made you fall for him of all people, but even she could agree that what Zooble said was a bit much.

A response never came. His head, mouth, and chest were too chaotic and static-filled to respond. Instead, he turned away and left, kicking things left and right on the path to his room. Only to find it empty and slam the door shut before storming his way over to your room, which is how he ended up here, an emotionally charged bomb.

[halcyonghoul]

They Get The Job Done

summary: Let it be known to all Siblings of the ministry that when multiple ghouls start to take interest in a mundane task you’re completing, it never ends well. pairing(s): platonic reader x nameless ghouls, dewdrop x aether implied if you squint warnings: n/a word count: 1,443 a/n: This is my first time writing in years but I was inspired by a joke post I made on twitter yesterday. As always the characters mentioned are inspired by the fictional characters as created by Ghost and in no way depict the real people behind the masks. Find this and my other works on AO3

Let it be known to all Siblings of the ministry that when multiple ghouls start to take interest in a mundane task you’re completing, it never ends well. 

Your day had started simply enough. A short list in your pocket of minor repairs needed to be done around the Abbey, the ministry’s toolbox in hand, and you were off. The first item on your list was repairing a loose door frame near Papa’s office. The sound of the drill had attracted the attention of a wandering ghoul- Phantom- who stopped to ask you questions as you worked. You didn’t mind the company or the questions from the younger ghoul. It made the work go by faster and he was always pleasant to interact with. Soon the task at hand was finished and you moved onto the next task, now with a ghoul shadow. The sun blazed down on the pair of you, but the conversation stayed lively as you went about explaining the process of repairing a crack in the greenhouse siding to Phantom. He squatted in the dirt next to you, nodding along to your spiel animatedly. You were too occupied with the spackle in your hands to notice how the quintessence ghoul’s eyes wandered every so often to the open box of tools at your feet.

As the day wore on you found yourself with what seemed like an entire pack of ghouls trailing behind you. Mountain joined you and Phantom as you finished with the greenhouse. Soon, your small band of adventurers caught the attention of Rain and Dew, which then caught the attention of Aurora and Cirrus. While conversation and batting Dew’s hands away from power tools made the day seem to go by faster, despite the extra hands with you, the curious swarm made each task take longer to complete. The pack was more than content to stand over your shoulder and observe rather than help (Mountain did screw in a loose lightbulb just out of your reach at least). By the time you finished your to-do list you were covered in a layer of dust, dirt, and sweat. Taking a look at your watch you let out a small yelp realizing you were going to miss out on dinner if you didn’t hurry. “Thanks for the help today, guys! I’d say I couldn’t have done it without you, but we all know that’s a load of shit. See you around!” You cheerfully exited the group of sort-of repair ghouls and rushed towards the Sibling quarters. You were so distracted by the ghouls and your tardiness that you hadn’t realized you left behind your bag of tools as you headed back to your room to freshen up for the evening. Dew shared a conspiring grin with Phantom as your figure retreated down the hall. 

As soon as you were out of earshot the pack of ghouls dove for the toolbox in a frenzy, grabbing whatever they could get their claws on and scurrying off with their prizes. 

Mountain thought he was helping you out by straightening that crooked nail haphazardly holding a picture frame up until he hit his thumb, dropped the hammer, and cracked the worn tile below his feet. Rain, ever the helpful ghoul, tried to take over for Mountain so the earth ghoul could nurse his wound. In the process of hammering, the water ghoul managed to drive the nail into a water pipe beneath the wall. Water was streaming out like a fountain and anything Rain tried to get it to stop made the leak worse. Eventually, panicking, he grabbed a larger picture off a nearby wall and put it over the leaking spot. He and Mountain slowly shuffled towards the ghoul den while water started to leak through the ancient oil painting. 

Phantom stood tall, electric drill in hand, as he stared at the breaker box in front of him. During his tour around the Ministry with you, the room full of electrical equipment was his favorite. He had stopped paying attention half way through your explanation of the task in favor of poking wires and making note of which ones shocked him. The drill had been another favorite of his and he was delighted to get his hands on it once you left him and his fellow ghouls unsupervised. The ghoul revved the drill, getting used to the weight of it before he held it up and pressed it against the breaker. With a little bit of pressure it ate through the metal, sending an electric shock through the quint. With a loud pop, spark and puff of smoke from the breaker the power in the entire wing of the Abbey flickered off around Phantom. “...Cool!” the ghoul gasped out as he tried to blink the lingering feeling of shock from his system. 

Copia muttered to himself as he shuffled stacks of paper around his desk. His time as a Cardinal made him no stranger to clerical work, but his current change in job title made every document feel like torture. The lights in the newly renovated office flickered once, twice, before completely going out. The man let out a deep sigh, cursing his twin brother under his breath for good measure, before standing up and exiting his office in favor of finding the source of the sudden power outage. 

Elsewhere in the Abbey the ghoulettes were wreaking havoc with an electric nail gun; Aurora and Cirrus in a lively round of target practice with the various items they came across. Siblings and members of the clergy ran and ducked as they passed through the hallway on the way to their next destination, narrowly missing a nail to the head, leg, or other body parts. An unlucky cardinal barely escaped, his biretta crucified on the wall behind him. Cirrus blew on the chamber of the nail gun like a cowboy in a Western and pretended to holster it in her belt, satisfied with her work. Both ghoulettes were distracted from picking out their next target by the smell of smoke and loud cursing across the courtyard. 

Aether had followed the smell of smoke out of the infirmary and was not surprised in the slightest to find Dewdrop staring at a hole in the wall, screwdriver in hand, blinking at the fire spreading along a water pipe. The small fire ghoul opened his mouth to defend himself but it died in his throat as Aether held up a hand in warning. Aether calmly, but swiftly, went back to the infirmary to collect the fire extinguisher and came back to see Dew prodding the fire with the screwdriver. The fire had spread down the pipe creating the need for the quintessence ghoul to stick his upper body in the hole to try to douse the flames. He overestimated the amount of weight the wall could hold and the ghoul went crashing down as drywall cracked under him. Stuck in a downward dog position, half of him sticking out of the wall, is exactly how the ghoulettes found him. 

Dewdrop was doubled over with his hands on his knees, crying with laughter at the predicament his fellow ghoul had found himself in. “If you missed me that much, Aeth, you could have just texted me,” Dew choked out between laughs, “Can’t say I don’t appreciate the view.” Angry banging from the inside of the wall from Aether made Dew’s laughter grow louder

Cirrus had taken to poking Aether to get the larger ghoul to squirm, ignoring his pleas to help him out of the wall. Aurora had just taken the nail gun from Cirrus and aimed it at Aether’s defenseless backside when the ghouls heard someone clacking down the hallway towards them.

Copia strolled by the quickly escalating situation with his arms clasped behind his back, whistling quietly to himself. Upon seeing their former Papa approaching, Aurora slowly lowered the nail gun in her hands and Dewdrop hid the screwdriver behind his back. The ghouls smiled innocently as if Aether wasn’t still stuck in the wall, the smell of smoke wasn’t lingering in the air, and the fire ghoul wasn’t wiping his eyes and shaking from the effort of holding back his laughter. The Frater Imperator stopped to take one look at his ghouls, turned on his heel, and continued down the hallway. Before he rounded the corner he called, “The chair in the Papal office has a wobbly leg. Feels like it may break. One loosened screw should, eh, do the trick.” 

Dew looked at the two ghoulettes, patted Aether on the ass, and took off running down the hall to Papa Perpetua’s office.

[catrinkets]

I’m so awful at taking care of myself LOL does it get better with time or am i doomed

[cicadidae-tm9899]

God I am just like the stereotypes

[mydear-corinthian]

old man

synopsis - after a mission, you and Bucky were forced to stay in a cabin until Steve and the others arrived. In the middle of a small argument, you said something you regretted… or did you?

pairing - bucky barnes x avenger! reader

warnings - SMUT +18, enemies to ..?, small argument, one bed trope, dom!bucky, overstimulation, creampie, squirting, dirty talk, p in v, (y/n) mentioned once

notes - inspired by that one fic of duncan vizla i read here ^_^ divider by enchanthings-a

main masterlist | marvel masterlist

For how many months was the Avengers' primary mission to locate the small Hydra bases around the world? It's not exactly a new task for you. You and Bucky were assigned to this mission, which involved searching Romanian woods for a batch of super-soldier serum.

It painted the white, cold snow, and the bodies of the Hydra soldiers covered in blood adorned the area outside the small base.

“We got ‘em, Cap,” you said as you touched your earpiece, breathing hard after you just fought the last Hydra men. 

“Good. You two must stay put first while the others continue to locate bases in the area. There is a bunker in that location. You and Bucky can stop by there until everyone is done with their mission and then we’ll pick you up.” Steve replied on the comms. 

A frown replaced your smile. What do you mean stay on put? With Bucky? 

It's not really the kind of person you get along with, Bucky Barnes. He’s mysterious, cold, distant– everything. You don’t exactly have a good relationship with him. The both of you often argue with the smallest things– from a box of cereal, when training, just every single interaction you had with him. 

It felt more like divine retribution than an assignment when Steve revealed that you and Bucky would be working together on the mission. Like the universe had looked you dead in the eye and said, “Yeah, suffer.”

Out of all the people they could’ve assigned, they gave him Bucky. The one person you swore you’d never work with. 

What a wonderful day right!

"Aw, come on! We retrieved the serums already. Can we just go home and call it a day?” you groaned.

“Yeah, Steve. I’d rather go home. Or into a coma. Whichever gets me out of this faster,” Bucky muttered.

You didn’t bother hiding your annoyance, eyes rolling before Bucky even finished his sentence. It was exhausting to be around him, as if seven years of your life were being chipped away by every second. But he’s right, you’d rather get out of this mess immediately. 

The both of you heard Steve chuckled from the comms, “I’m sorry, lovebirds. You guys really gotta wait. Make this a perfect moment to stop fighting each other and offer peace.”

Lovebirds

Fuck that.

“Whatever. Just send us the coordinates.”

“Sending now.”

~

It took almost an hour to find the bunker. Every step felt slow and heavy, and the entire trail was blanketed in thick snow that was at least a foot deep. The cold wind blew through the trees, and everything was quiet except for the sound of your boots crunching the snow.

When you finally saw it, the bunker looked small — way smaller than you expected. It was hidden at the edge of the clearing, almost buried under snow. The walls were old and rusty, and the roof looked like it might cave in if it snowed any harder.

“What a nice AirBnB huh,” you sarcastically commented as soon as you saw it. 

Bucky didn’t mutter a single word and went inside right away. You hurriedly followed him, not wanting to get locked outside. As soon as he opened the door, your mouth hung open.

One bed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You put your go-bag on the little table in front of the bed, exhausted and defeated, while Bucky locked the door firmly and looked for items the S.H.I.E.L.D. had left behind. You removed your black parka jacket and folded it beside your bag. On the other hand, Bucky found two guns covered in a plastic zip-lock that was placed under the bed. 

“You gonna shower?” you asked, looking up at him. “You can go first. I’m still arranging my stuffs.”

Bucky simply nodded, not having the strength to argue anymore. He grabbed his whole bag and brought it with him to the bathroom. You sighed, getting up and grabbed the guns. Ripping the plastic open, you inspected them carefully before putting the bullets in then placed both on the nightstand. One for you, one for Bucky.

The mattress was supringsly soft but still small for the both of you. Your head was clouded with thoughts as soon as you sat on the bed. The both of you fight. A lot. Practically every time the both of you talk. And yet… sometimes, you wish we could just sit down and have a real conversation. Just talk. But you know it’s not that easy—especially not with someone like him. He’s so quiet, so withdrawn, like he’s always trying to disappear into the background. You get it. They broke him and made him into something he never wanted to be, and you know what Hydra did to him. Everyone talks about the Winter Soldier as if he were just that. But you don’t care about that. I want to know James. Bucky. The man. Not the myth, not the weapon. Just… him

Your thoughts were interrupted as soon as you heard the knob twisted from the bathroom. Bucky got out of the shower with some new clothes on. The sight was.. something for you to feel things.

The tight active dry shirt was hugging his biceps so much. He was also wearing a plain shirt and his hair.. oh god his hair. It was still a bit wet but god he looks good.

“You can go next,” Bucky said while he wiped his hair with a white towel that was sitting on his shoulders. 

You instantly grabbed your clothes and towel to cover up the blush that had appeared on your cheek. Closing the bag, you walked past him and went inside the bathroom.

It was small but it’ll do. It was a miracle that it has a heater— definitely can’t find that in a cabin like this. As you started rubbing soap all over your body, you can’t help but thought of Bucky again. Are you actually having a crush on him? 

He’s smart, tall, strong.. and definitely handsome. He might be cold and harsh but there are some times that he’ll ask you if you're okay after debfreifing and he never doubted your skills– which is a big thing for you. 

After you finished taking a shower, you found Bucky reading his own copy of The Hobbit. His face looked calm, collected, and.. hot?

"What is up with you and that book?" you asked.

"Huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "That's the 1937 book, right? The one that you've been bragging and literal is old like you."

"I'm not that old," he sighed, putting the book on top of the night stand.

"You're like 120 yea—"

"107."

"Same thing! You even got that old man's attitude."

"Oh really now?"

“You’re so old I bet it won’t even stand up anymore,” you bit. 

Oh shit.

You definitely did not dodge a damn missile on that one.

Bucky paused for a bit. He looked at your eyes and god you were terrified. You thought that maybe you slipped through the line with that joke. You were mentally punching yourself. You were waiting for a slap on your face or even a gun but nothing. Why the fuck did you even say that?

It wasn’t nothing.

But his lips on yours.

Bucky’s hands suddenly grabbed your face, firm and desperate, and before you could breathe—he kissed you. Hard. Your heart slammed against your chest, wild and thunderous, like it was trying to answer him.

"You really need to shut that mouth of yours, huh?" he murmured.

Your mouth parted when his tongue brushed your lips, asking for an entrance— wait asking? He didn't need to. He did it right away. Bucky's rough palms guided towards your neck, titling it to taste you more.

"Mmm—" you moaned.

He didn't hesitate to slide his fingers down to your stomach then to your shorts, toying with the garter as he continued playing his lips with your mouth. He swiftly removed your black shorts, together with your panties— soaking wet—, and tossed them somewhere the room.

You whimpered when you felt his fingers brushed your pussy, making a slick of wetness sound. You arched your back and clenched your fists around the bed linens.

"Jesus— you're soaking," he teased.

Bucky's vibranium arm left your face and started to unzip his pants swiftly. His cock sprung free. Hard. And definitely big. Pre-cum leaking out from his swollen tip.

Aligning himself, he began to slide it in— swiftly. Bucky smirked at the sight.

"Oh my god. Fuck— my dick fits perfectly inside you, huh?"

"Bucky! Wa-it—!" you choked.

Bucky was stretching your hole so much that it hurt. You didn't expect for him to be big— THAT big. You can feel his veins kissing your walls, his tip meeting your pelvis aggressively. Your eyes rolled so much you felt like your eyes were facing backwards now.

"You take me so well, doll. You're squeezing me like your pussy knows me, so don't even pretend you don't like this."

As he sank farther, your legs locked with his. You whimpered, groaned, and repeatedly chanted his name as if it were a damned prayer. You never imagined for this to feel good and to be doing this with.. Bucky. Someone who gives you a cold glare. Someone who doesn't even talk to you. Someone you never thought you'd fall for.

Bucky looked at you. Your eyes.

Not with lust.

But a hint of love.

It was wrong, and he knew it. It was wrong for someone like him to fall to a woman like you. He's a murderer. A criminal. A monster. But he shook his head mentally, ignore all the negative thoughts for now.

"F-feels good, Bucky.. aah—"

Bucky's arms were beside you, holding himself as he thrusted in and out. The silver dog tags on his neck moved crazily. His biceps were flexed at his pace. He leaned forward to you until his face was just half a inch apart from you. You can feel his hot breath whenever he groans. You can see how his eyebrows furrowed everytime you clench on him.

You broke the distance; kissing him up. It was sloppy. Wet. Lusful. An action that speaks to continue and pace up. Both of your lips were glossy. You heard him groan again as he went inside deeper. Bucky was hitting the spots that your fingers cannot even reach— and damn he is good at it.

He looked at you with that dumb smirk of his and broke the kiss, leaving a trail of saliva between your lips and his.

"Didn't know that a damn insult is all that you need for me to fuck you like this, hm?"

"Mmp—! F-fuck you, Barnes."

"I am, doll."

Bucky straightened his posture. His metal arm grabbed your left leg and then placed it on his shoulder, allowing himself to push himself even further. You let out a loud moan when you felt him fucking the spongy spot. His head rolled back and eyes were closed from the pleasure.

"Please.. Bucky," you beg as a knot forms in your stomach.

"Please what, doll?"

"'m so close— I think I'm gonna cum.. Oh god!" you writhed.

He let out a chuckle. His pace going faster, harder. More desperate. More power. More possessive.

"Yeah? My girl's gonna come? Go on, doll."

After a few more thrusts, the knot on your lower stomach finally ripped off. You clenched on him as you came hard. You were a moaning mess.

But Bucky didn't pulled out just yet. You felt a cold touch on your clit; his finger circling figure of eights with his thumb. You whined and whined from the continuous pleasure until you felt like it was too much. Too hard to handle. Too good.

"No— wait! Too much, Bucky! I can't!" you whimpered.

"Shh.. I know, doll. But I can't just stop especially when you're still squeezing me."

You curled up your toes, arching your back, and gripped the pillows tightly as the pleasure became too much. You were overstimulated and overwhelmed. The sound of your bodies slamming into each other echoed all over the small cabin. His finger flicking your clit so fast and well until you felt another wave of orgasm incoming.

"Aah!— Too much.. too much! Mmp—"

You finally squirted. Your juices were all over his cock as he continued pumping inside you. A wet puddle started to soak on the white bedsheets.

"Jesus Christ, doll— So good for me. Look at you so vulnerable, so addicted."

Your eyes closed again from the overstimulation. Your legs were trembling. Bucky's pace slowly slowed down and turned sloppy. His moans and grunts were getting louder and louder.

"You were talking shit about me earlier and now I'm cumming inside you," he teased.

With one final deep thrust, he spurted all of his cum inside you— rope after rope after rope, filling you. His head rested on your shoulder for a bit, waiting every drop to store inside your fucked pussy.

Your legs collapsed. Your chest violently heaved up and down. Bucky then pulled out slowly and when he did, his cum dripped down on your ached hole. Letting out a choked moan, you clench on nothing; suffering from the phantom cock.

"All you need is pissing me off so I can fuck you? Very smart idea, doll."

~

The next morning came. The both of you finished packing. After a few more minutes, the sound of the Quinjet rang into both of your ears. The door opened, revealing Steve and Natasha.

Bucky walked first, holding his black backpack that was hanging on his left shoulder. He greeted Steve and looked at you. You grabbed your go-bag and wobbled to Natasha.

"Woah, (y/n). Are you injured?" the red hair woman asked as she offered her hand to you. "What happened? We'll bring you to the Medbay as soon as we ar–"

"Oh trust me, she's fine. She just did cardio last night," Bucky replied with a smirk forming on his lips before going to the Quinjet.

Steve's eyebrows furrowed. "How can she do cardio in the middle of the ni— OH."

[carrieway]

guys . guys ive never been more tired

[spacedkey]

if you ignore the fact that i'm not making a comic in the vertical scrolling comic style, me doing almost nothing but reading webcomics all day is research 100% for sure

[reidmotif]

Hands-On Learning

Summary: Reader is deep in preparation for her finals, much to Spencer’s frustration. When she creatively incorporates him into her anatomy review, it turns into a pleasurable experience for them both.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: f!receiving oral, face sitting, face riding, f!masturbation, softdom!spencer, but he's needy and desperate, anatomy terms that may have been used incorrectly (sorry), slight dry humping, overstimulation, yearning.

Word Count: 3.3k

Masterlist

Finals season. 

The ever-dreaded, ever-disliked period between the end of April to June where every student you know is scrambling to absorb roughly four months of material in a matter of weeks.

All bets are off in this lawless space of time. Coffee at 2 AM? Completely advised, go right ahead. Hundreds of dollars spent in food delivery? Sure. Anything to keep the grind going, right? Major papers that should’ve taken weeks to write being done in a frantic three hours? It’s a rite of passage, really. And luckily, you get to spend a much-needed summer break afterwards, recovering from all these horrific decisions you’ve put yourself through. 

Needless to say, your current setup involved many textbooks, flashcards scattered about, and highlighters in the most random of places, all in the name of preparation for this beast of a week. 

And of course, it was all set to the sounds of a very needy Spencer Reid, who’d been begging for your attention since he’d gotten here.

“You’ve studied so much already, I swear. Can’t you take a break?”Spencer questions petulantly, sitting on the bed adjacent to your desk, where you were currently hard at work memorizing the thirty-one pairs of nerves that made up the spine. 

You’d been studying intensely for this semester's finals. By making a couple of well-informed choices beforehand, you were actually quite on track when it came to your learning and retention of material.

For the most part, it seemed like you were on track to sail through all your classes without a hitch. That held true, until you brought up Introduction to Anatomy. 

Anatomy was fun, by all means. Interesting labs, interesting people, interesting content. However, what daunted you more than anything in pertinence to the material was the enormity of the terms and vocabulary you were expected to know in time for the exam.

“I haven’t studied enough.” Is your quick response, a small smirk finding its way to your lips. Despite loving your boyfriend, there was a certain pleasure in seeing him so desperate for you, a power-rush that felt unbelievably good.

And to your credit, you really were hard at work memorizing these terms. As much as you enjoyed his company (and the sex he wanted to engage in), it simply could not take precedence over the task at hand. 

“You know, multiple studies recommend at least twenty minutes of a break for every hour you study, for peak brain efficiency, and you-” He checks his watch, mentally calculating how long you’d been at that desk. “You’re due for at least an hour’s worth of break at this point.” 

You finally look up, your finger halting on the paper it’d been tracing over. “Spencer, you know I’d love to take a break but-” 

He sighs heavily. “I’m aware. This is important. I get it.” He grumbles, flopping onto the bed in a slightly dramatic fashion. 

You giggle at the scene. For all his propriety, there was never a more amusing sight than your boyfriend reduced to base desire and instinct. You take pity on him though, and smile gently at him. 

“Look, why don’t you get out? Go have lunch, do whatever, and come back. Hopefully I’ll be closer to finishing then, and we can hang out then?” You offer, hope in your voice. 

He sighs and nods, lifting himself off your bed. “Yeah, sounds good.” He murmurs, coming over to the desk to place an affectionate, chaste kiss upon the top of your head. “Good luck.” He says, cracking a half smile as he leaves, which you return with a smile of your own. 

The door closes, and you’re left with nothing but silence, and the lateral cutaneous branches looking up at you from their place on the page. Time to work at it, you suppose. 

It’s about two hours later, when you hear the tell-tale knock of your boyfriend at your door, presumably back from his excursion away from you. Your place at your desk is momentarily abandoned in favor of letting him in, and there’s instant delight in your eyes, considering the two cups of coffee he presents to you. One is iced, one is not. Without any words exchanged between either party, the iced coffee is grabbed and you grin. 

“Thank you.” You say, taking a sip. Of course he’d remember your order perfectly. 

“You know, that could’ve been my coffee, for all you know.” He teases, striding into the room. 

You roll your eyes fondly whilst you close the door. “Spencer Reid drinking iced coffee? I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“Coffee is supposed to be hot!” He protests, immediately, this being an obvious subject of passion for him. “Hot brewed coffee contains far more antioxidants, and doesn’t risk being watered down by ice- oh, and another thing-” 

You stifle a chuckle whilst watching him. This had been an ongoing debate for you two, essentially since the day you met. Your first date had been at a coffee shop. When he'd asked for your order, he looked almost appalled at the prefix of “iced” you’d tacked onto your statement.

Nevertheless, he still ordered it, and did his best to educate you on why hot coffee was “clearly” superior.

Somewhere between lecturing you on caffeine effectivity and nutritional information, you were head over heels. 

“Anyway.” He says, breaking your thoughts, and seemingly done with his argument. “How far are you into studying?” 

You make your way back to your desk, biting your lip as you stand over the material.  “Pretty far.” You murmur, reluctantly. “I dunno. I know I know this material, but I feel like it hasn’t solidified in my brain, you know? Like I need to keep hammering it in until it’s basically muscle memory for me.” 

He moves slowly to be behind you, his hands coming to rub your shoulders gently, soothing the worn out muscles on your back. His touch is warm and reassuring, a quiet way of saying, “You can rest.”

“You know.” He murmurs, softly. “You’d probably do better with a break. Take a breather, let your brain relax for a second.” 

There’s a pause, before he adds in a quiet voice, “Maybe spend some time with me?” His hand comes to move some hair away from your neck, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the side of it. 

You melt into the movement. He always knew exactly where your weak spots were, where you’d falter and give right into his ministries.

But you know you can’t. You force yourself to breathe and look away, as though that simple act might help you forget how his hands had lingered on you just a moment ago.

“I want to, I swear. But I won’t feel good about taking downtime until I’m absolutely sure I’ve got this.” You say, firmly extricating yourself from his grasp.

He gives another one of his heavy sighs, accepting his fate quietly, knowing he won’t be able to convince you outside of your own accord. 

“Alright then. I’ll just hang out here then.. For however long that might take.” 

You give a small, pained smile. “Thank you. I know I’m being difficult.” 

“You’re not. You could never be difficult.” He responds, immediately, returning your smile with one of his own. “It’s just finals season. I know your  performance will be wonderful, and we’ll have all the time in the world afterwards to spend time together.” 

Your heart melts. You were beyond lucky to have him, and that adoration and knowledge is displayed plainly through your expression. “Thank you.” You repeat, unable to verbalize just how much his support meant to you. “I hate finals.” 

“You and I both.” He shoots back, cracking a grin. “You’re going to do great.” 

There’s no trace of doubt in his tone at all. 

For the next hour or so, you both quietly coexist in the same space, the names of musculature and types of fibers muttered under your breath. After a while, the terms click into place, and with a quiet breath, you let the tension go. The final step in your preparation involved practicing the newly learned terms on a human model. Ideally, it would be one of the fake skeletons in the anatomy lab. Your gaze, however, drifted to your boyfriend on your bed, sprawled out, reading your physics textbook for fun. 

Nerd. 

An almost evil plan enters your brain, and your voice goes sickly sweet as you call out his name. 

“Spence?” “Mm?” He murmurs, looking over the book. 

“Can you strip down to your underwear, please?” A harmless smile plays on your lips as you ask.

Spencer’s all ears as he hears that, and in record time his clothes are shed. “Are you-” “Lie back on the bed.” You order. 

He’s so obedient and eager, immediately complying with what you’ve asked of him without question. You smile, and discreetly grab a washable marker before making your way to where he was laid out. 

“God. I’ve been so insanely needy for you all day. I’m so glad you’re done.” He says, his expression reeking of starvation as you straddle him. You can feel him harden under your touch, and choose to ignore that. 

You lean down, your head at about his chest. His breathing quickens in anticipation, already so turned on from the minimal contact between you two.

Before he can make a move of his own, you pull out your marker and mark the space between his clavicle and shoulder.

“Brachial plexus.” You murmur, much to his utter confusion and dismay. 

“You have to be kidding me.” He says, his look of confusion quickly morphing into one of realization. “I thought you were done-” 

“I’m not.” You say, with a small smirk on your lips. “But I will be, if you’re quiet and let me work on you.” 

He groans. “You’re evil, this is evil. I won’t-” 

“The faster we get through this, the faster I’m all yours.” You interrupt, mostly ignoring him, because you know he’ll do anything if it means touching you by the end of it. 

He takes a pained breath and tries to relax while you work on top of him,  his obvious erection straining against the fabric of his briefs.

The pen drags down his chest, as you move down on him to better position yourself in accordance to the medial pectoral nerve you were marking.

“Baby, please.” He groans out, his hands fisting in the sheets below him in an attempt to not grab you and take you right then and there.

The slightest bit of friction seems to set him off, and you can tell he isn’t playing it up in the slightest. He truly was, well and gone for you within this moment.

“Sorry.” You murmur. “Just marking your.. anterior cutaneous branches.. of the thoracic nerves.” The pen drags against a spot on his chest, and he shudders. 

“Won’t this stain my skin?” He says, a slight whine in his tone, doing absolutely anything to free himself from the absolute torture of this predicament he’d found himself in. 

“Nah. It’s one of those pens they use for surgery.” You respond, dragging it along his sternum to mark a few more necessary terms. “It’ll come right off in the shower.” 

You know exactly how to push his buttons. You lean in closer and whisper against his ear enticingly, “We can get clean together.” 

He squeezes his eyes at that, the feeling of your lips brushing against his earlobe triggering an involuntary response, a low moan escaping him. “This is.. so unfair. I just want to touch you. Please.” 

“Not until I’m done.” You fire back. “C'mon. You can be good and wait, right?” 

“Easy for you to say.” He grits out. “You’re not the one, half naked and hard and having to watch you be..” He trails off.

“Be what?” You ask, a bit distracted as you mark another nerve of importance.

“Be.. sexy.” He mumbles out, clearly embarrassed by his own musings. 

A small, wry smile comes upon your mouth. You lean back, a breath of laughter slipping free. “You think I look sexy?” You say, a teasing lilt in your tone.

He rubs a hand over his face, clearly mortified. “Yes. Yes, okay!” He grumbles out, clearly self-conscious by just how much he’s managed to be affected by you. “You’re on top of me, drawing on me, and I’m aware they’re just anatomical terms, but God the way you say them.” 

His voice devolves into a near whimper, pitiful and aching. “It’s killing me.” 

You hum, pleased with yourself. “Killing you, huh?”

“Yes.” He mewls. “Killing me. I want you so much, please. You’re so smart. Please. I know you’re going to do so good on this final. Just please, please, let me touch you.”

He collapses into his words, into you. No pride left, just need.

“Yeah? You think I’m smart?” You murmur teasingly, tracing the plastic of your marker along the side of his neck. 

“Yes.” He moans, lowly. “So smart. You’re so hot when you’re working so hard. Makes me want you so bad.” 

Your head turns back, and you can see the wetness of precum leaking from his cock on his briefs. He wasn’t faking it to get your attention. He yearned for you, plain and simple.

Your eyes find his, and they’re full of need, his expression absolutely shameless and desperate. “Please.” He repeats. “Please let me touch you. I don’t care how. Just- god. I can't do this. Please.” 

It’s enough to make you yield. You slide off of him, and he lets out a soft, needy sound, already missing the press of you, until his breath catches at the sight of you stripping, your clothes landing somewhere off the edge of the bed without a second thought.

“You wanna touch me?” You murmur, crawling up the bed a little. 

“Yes.” He whispers, nodding.

The way he looks at your naked body, eyes fixed, hungry, reverent.. it’s almost too much. You feel dizzy from the weight of it.

You straddle his face, a thigh on either side of him whilst you hover over his face, and then you look down. “Touch me then.” You murmur.

He practically growls as his hands wrap around your thighs. “With pleasure.” 

He pulls you down entirely, effectively forcing your core against his mouth, his tongue lapping against every inch of your wet folds.

You moan, your hands coming to grasp the headboard in front of you. There’s absolutely nothing he could be thinking about, besides the taste and smell of you flooding and overwhelming his senses. 

He devours you with a single-minded focus, his tongue expertly alternating between flattening  and lapping you in slow, deliberate strokes, and quick flicks against your clit. It’s all done in service to you, Spencer thinking of the fastest way to unravel you, desperate to taste your release against his tongue– to hear you moan his name and shake above him. 

He gets his wish when another stroke of his tongue finally causes you to come, your sweet release flooding his face, and him eagerly drinking it in. He moans as he attempts to pull you even closer to his mouth (if that was even possible). 

You let out a breathy laugh as he seems to slow down, indicating the end of your session. “Spence.. Oh god. That was so good.” You try to get off him, but his grip on your thighs is iron-clad. 

“Again.” He moans. 

“What?” You ask, not sure if you heard him right. 

“Again, please.” He begs, voice broken. “I need you.” 

The absolute depravity and torment in his voice lulls you into complacency, as you assume your previous position above him. 

“Okay. Okay, baby. We can go again.” You murmur, soothingly.

He wastes no time going right back in, his tongue albeit, a little slower now, keeping in mind that you’d just orgasmed, and that you were probably still sensitive. 

He’s right to do so, little high-pitched moans and drawn out of you as you get comfortable again, despite the overstimulation.

His tongue circles your clit slowly, never properly touching it, delaying your next release. After a while of this teasing, you finally moan out his name, your hips shamelessly rocking against him. 

“Spencer, god. Please. Need to come.” You beg, feeling yourself at the edge of a small death. 

Spencer responds in kind, rapidly flicking his tongue against your swollen bud, and in record time, you’re coming again, much to his delight.  He doesn't let up until he's absolutely sure he's lapped up every single drop, not letting any of it go to waste.

“Okay, baby. I gotta get off. Gotta breathe. So do you.” You pant out, as you get off from your seat on his face.

He shakes his head, tugging you closer. 

“Please, wanna keep touching you.” He pleads, eyes teary, your release practically dripping off his chin. His hand digs into your arm with a lustful urgency.  “Please. We can go again. I know we can.” 

You yield to his request, because honestly, who could deny him right now? His hair messy, lips shiny and his voice, fractured and full of ache, barely held together. 

You nod, lying down, on the bed, motioning for him to roll on top of you. 

He rolls over and kisses you, and it’s absolutely sinful. You can taste yourself on him, moaning as your lips easily part and make way for him, the wet warmth of his tongue sliding against yours. There’s nothing held back between the two of you as your lips connect and reconnect, as his hand slowly slides down the expanse of your skin, finding your clit and beginning to rub slow circles against it. 

“Oh god, Spencer.” You moan bonelessly, feeling the effects of your previous two orgasms and the one you were hurtling towards currently taking over you. 

“Yeah?” He mumbles. “That feel good?” 

“God, yes.” You moan. “You always know how to touch me, always know how to make me feel good- oh-” 

He groans in delight as he dives in for another kiss, his fingers sliding across the slick bud even faster now, determined to make you fall off the edge for him one last time. He humps your thigh, practically desperate for some relief for his aching cock as well.

“Say my name.” He murmurs against your lips. 

“Spencer.” You wail out, in response. 

“Louder.” 

“Oh god, Spencer, please!” You groan, your body beginning to tense up with the tell-tale signs of an orgasm, your body taut like a bowstring. 

“That’s right, come for me.” He whispers, placing a sweet kiss against your collarbone, his hips continuing their rut in an attempt to chase his release as well.

And with a shout, you come, your body seizing up and succumbing to his touch, your hands wrapping around his neck in an attempt to ground yourself as you experienced the intense pleasure that could only result from being with him.

He seems to follow shortly after to the sound of your moans, a wet patch appearing on the front of his briefs.

You whimper as you come down for your orgasm, Spencer stroking your skin soothingly, peppering little kisses wherever he could reach. 

“You doing okay?” He pants out.

“Better than okay.” You murmur, folding into his embrace, feeling as if you were floating on clouds, or some other poetic description of just how light you felt in this moment. 

“I pushed you pretty hard, huh?” He mumbles, his voice tinged with a slight bit of concern. 

“Don’t worry. I deserve it for teasing you so hard." You mumble.

"Thanks for helping me study, by the way." You tack on, already feeling yourself drift off into a quiet, peaceful slumber in his arms. 

He chuckles a bit, and places a kiss against your forehead. “Glad I could make the lesson... hands-on.”

woah!!! hello!! so unfortunately, much like reader, i have also been swamped by finals :( but, this idea came to me and i decided to write it and try to make my way back to writing even a little bit more regularly. as usual, please like, reblog and comment if you enjoyed this fic. reblogs are basically the lifeline of tumblr, and if you'd like my work to reach more people, i would 10000% appreciate it so much. thank you so much for reading regardless, and i hope it was enjoyable. thank you thank thank you for all your support!!!! <333

[solarmorrigan]

Steve knows how to take care of himself. He's good at it. He's been doing it for years

Illnesses, sports injuries (other injuries) - he knows how to manage them so they'll go away as quickly as possible. He knows when he needs to rest, he knows when he needs to take medication, he knows how to care for pulled muscles and broken skin. Maybe he doesn't always have the opportunity to care for these things properly, but he knows how, because with no one else around, he'd had to learn

Eventually, he gets it down to a routine. A science, almost. An airtight series of steps for whatever is wrong with him so he can knock out whatever crud is keeping him down and move on with his life

There isn't really room for anyone else in it

"You want me to do that?" Eddie asks, watching as Steve stirs a pot of soup on the stove.

"'m good," Steve answers with an absent sniffle.

Eddie hums. "Well, do you need me to go out and get anything? More tissues, cough medicine, more soup...?"

Steve shakes his head, though he stops when it brings on a wave of dizziness. He braces himself against the counter, waving Eddie off when he steps forward to try to support Steve. It's really just a little cold, but the congestion is killing him.

"I've got everything I need," Steve finally says; he always makes sure the medicine cabinet is stocked for this sort of thing, replenishes anything in there as soon as he uses it up, just in case. "Thanks, though."

Eddie is quiet for a long moment. "So you, uh... don't need me for anything, then?"

"Nah, it's fine. Just gonna eat my soup and get some rest," Steve assures him. "You should go enjoy your day."

"Right," Eddie says, sounding weirdly flat. "I'll just. Go do that. I guess."

He disappears into the spare room (ostensibly a guest room, but it's also become a space for all of Eddie's D&D and music stuff, and Steve has jokingly taken to referring to it as Eddie's office), and Steve finishes heating his soup with a little puzzlement. Something is up with Eddie, but Steve is too worn out to figure out what.

He eats his soup and goes back to bed, but it isn't until he's been lying there, exhausted but restless, for almost an hour that it occurs to him what's wrong. He plays back over the conversation in the kitchen and feels a little stupid for not catching on sooner.

He can hear Eddie strumming absently at his acoustic when he goes to knock on the door of the spare room. The sound stops and Eddie opens the door, looking almost surprised to see Steve.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Hey. I, uh - I'm trying to rest, but I just... can't, for some reason." Steve shrugs. "I think maybe I need some company?"

"Yeah?" Eddie asks again, his voice warming a little.

"Yeah. I mean, if you're not busy, or--"

"Free as a bird, baby," Eddie says quickly, reaching out to take Steve by the hand. "Let's get you back to bed."

Eddie takes to his task with gusto, making sure Steve has all the pillows and blankets that he needs, dimming the lights, even offering to read a book. And it's - it's nice, Steve realizes.

It's nice, having Eddie there, giving Steve the one thing he's never really had before.

It's nice to have support.

[girlfromflor]

kyle garrick feeds you every time he feels like he can.

it's not uncommon for him to feel self-councious about his desires – maybe thinking he's a bit weird for it, or whatever. but when he sees the opportunity to deep dive in them he's done for.

so seeing you busy writing something down like your life depends on it, he can't help but say "hey, baby? food's ready," knowing damn well you'll say you're going to eat later.

"sorry, but i'm busy right now. just let me finish this real quick..." you mumble, not even paying him a glance. he smiles at the notion because, considering your headspace, you'll either brush him off or agree blindly to whatever he has to say.

"can i feed you, then? you don't have to move, i'll bring our food for us to eat here." he offers, and you answer with "okay, thanks, love" like you usually do after he says he'd be waiting for you, automatically, not even registering the fact that he didn’t say that.

once you realize it, it’s is too late. he's sitting by your side, a plate twice as big as you usually have in his hands – because he'll eat out of the same plate he'll feed you – as he pushes a fork filled with your favorite salty food to your lips.

you don't brush him off immediately like he expected you to, you simply glance over him before taking a bite. he hums in appreciation as you chew – like he's the one eating – and takes a bite himself. and that goes until the food is all gone, you keep your task until you feel sleepy from eating so much and he kisses your lips before getting up to leave the dishes in the sink – you'll do them later.

he watches silently as you gather your things and put them away before going over at him, kissing him once again. "thank you for feeding me..." you say honestly, mumbling into his neck as you hug him by the waist.

"i love to do it, baby," he answers, kissing your temple. then, he adds: "what do you think we lay down for a bit now, eh?"

and you gladly comply, the both of you cuddling under the covers until you're both asleep and dreaming of each other.

[moonriizing]

Begin Again | p.js (18+)

Jay didn’t know much about love. But he knew what he wanted—and it was you, even if you came with a kid, emotional baggage, and walls he had to work his way through.

Genre: strangers to lovers, smut, fluff? Pairing: Park Jongseong/Jay Park x afab!reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), MDNI, reader is older than jay and has a child, no angst just light and easy Notes: 11k words. Listening to Begin Again by Taylor Swift. Fought through my broken laptop and writer's block to finish this baby on time. I hope you like it! I appreciate comments A LOT so don't hesitate if you got smth to say :> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally nor claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story.

enjoy~

In a quiet suburban neighborhood on the south side of the city, Jay was making an inventory of the products that came yesterday, boxes of them filling up the small storage room at the far back of his pharmacy. Just another part of his mundane routine in a town that rarely gave him anything new.

He was quite content with it, despite the mundanity. Business was great in these areas, it was closer to home, no rush hour traffic, and he was far from the hustle and bustle of the downtown area. He liked to think it was a privilege to have this peaceful means of earning a living.

Most of the people were nice. He’d had his fair share of problematic and entitled customers, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He’d also never had to deal with robbers and whatnot that were more rampant downtown. Sure, he kept seeing the same faces, but he didn’t really mind. The folks around here were older, some of them in retirement age who liked to bring him produce or food from time to time, and the others were married people going through their own day-to-day routine of driving kids to school and picking up prescriptions.

It was nice, and he never really had any grand expectations of experiencing anything out of the ordinary.

Until today, when you walked into his pharmacy while he was in the middle of his inventory task. The chimes on the door made Jay whip his head around, surprised by the way the door was forcefully pushed open. For a second, he thought he was being robbed, craning his neck, trying to catch a glimpse past the shelves blocking his view.

Then you came into sight.

You looked like you’d been running, breathing just a little too hard, eyes darting over the shelves like you were hunting something. Jay took a step forward, halfway ready to offer help, when you spotted what you needed on your own: a pregnancy test kit.

You grabbed it without hesitation and made a beeline for the counter, where he barely had time to straighten up before you slapped it down, pulled out your wallet, and blurted, “Do you have a bathroom I could use? It’s kind of an emergency.”

He blinked. “Uh—yeah. Just through there.” He gestured toward the hallway behind him. “Last door on the right.”

“Thank you,” you said breathlessly, taking the kit with you like your life depended on it.

Jay stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where you’d been. That wasn’t a robbery. And that was definitely not the usual retiree bringing him extra zucchinis from their backyard garden.

Five minutes passed. He tried to go back to inventorying—a box of ibuprofen, a box of multivitamins, a box of whatever—but his eyes kept drifting back to the hallway.

When you finally emerged, you were looking less panicked, breathing lighter as you offered him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that,” you said, brushing hair out of your face. “Had a bit of a cuckoo fit back there. All good now.”

Jay raised his eyebrows, unsure if he was allowed to ask what “all good” meant. Instead, he managed a small smile. “No worries.”

You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge near the register, twisting the cap open before you’d even paid. “I’ll take this too, please.”

He rang you up, still caught somewhere between curiosity and amusement. “That would be 4.60.”

“Awesome, thanks.” You paid for it, gave him a quick wave and a parting smile—bright, genuine, and completely disarming. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he replied, a little too late. The door had already closed behind you.

And just like that, you were gone. Jay stared at the now-quiet door for a moment, then turned back toward the storage room to continue his forgotten inventorying.

He wasn’t in the habit of wondering about customers after they left, but still, he couldn’t help but wonder: Was it positive? Or negative?

If he were being honest, he could be quite nosy when something intrigued him. But more important than the question about your pregnancy test: Would he ever see you again?

Jay saw you again the following week. And the week after that. You never came in for anything urgent. Just little things—a couple bags of candy, Band-Aids, headache pills. One time, allergy tablets.

But what he noticed the most were the tampons. You picked them up fairly regularly. So, naturally, he assumed the pregnancy was probably a bust.

Not that it was any of his business. But the nosy part of him filed that information away with some sort of satisfaction.

You didn’t talk much when you came in. Just the usual, greetings, item requests, and a soft “thank you” when you left. Still, you were always polite and nice. You had this calming presence about you, and a smile that made the store feel a little less sterile. Jay couldn’t say when it started, but he found himself looking forward to your visits.

Not that he was doing anything about it.

Okay, maybe he was doing a little.

He might’ve started taking a bit longer bagging your items, adjusting things unnecessarily, or recounting if he got the right number of items. And a few times, he’d tossed in a cookie from the counter and called it a freebie. You always laughed a little and thanked him, like you didn’t realize it was a bribe for your attention.

He let his hand brush yours sometimes when passing your card back. And maybe his eyes lingered more than they should, along with a charming smile that he knew girls liked about him. But it wasn’t a big deal. He figured you didn’t notice. Or if you did, you didn’t mind.

Jay wasn’t planning on making a move. He liked the way things were—harmless, light, the occasional heart skip when you walked in.

That changed the day you asked, “Hey, which cold syrup would you recommend for a five-year-old?”

The words didn’t even fully register at first. He was distracted, caught up in how you looked that day, button-down blouse, and faded jeans with your hair bunched up in a bun.

Then he noticed the ring on your finger. Thin and simple, on your left hand.

He didn’t know how he’d missed it before. “Is it for your kid?” he asked, trying not to sound like he was confirming anything.

You nodded. “Yeah. He’s got a little cough. Nothing crazy, just, you know. First week of school.” You sighed. “His pediatrician’s halfway across the country, though. We haven’t sorted out a new one yet.”

Jay turned to grab a bottle from the shelf behind the counter, masking his expression. “There’s a clinic a few blocks down,” he said. “Good pediatrician. I know him. I can give him a call and tell him to expect you, if you want.”

Your face lit up, surprised and grateful. “Really? Oh my god, you’re such a sweetheart. Thank you.”

Jay gave a small nod, sliding the bottle into a paper bag. “No problem.”

And that was that. A little piece of information tucked into place. Married with a five-year-old kid. He didn’t know what he felt about it—only that it made sense. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise. This suburb was a place for people who wanted to settle down. There was no way a gorgeous, clearly intelligent woman like you would move here for nothing.

Still, he watched you walk out the door like he always did. And this time, he didn’t let his fingers linger when he handed you the receipt.

That night, just as he was eating his dinner at home, he got a phone call that had him shaking his head in amusement. Jay knew exactly why his friend was calling and part of him didn’t wanna entertain Sunghoon nosing around his affairs, but a larger part of him wanted to hear how the day went.

“Yo,” he answered, mouth still half full of kimchi fried rice.

“Hey,” Sunghoon said. “Quick question, what’s going on between you and that woman you sent over today?”

Jay fought the urge to smirk. “Who?”

“You know who I’m talking about. The one with the five-year-old. Said you recommended me to her. Pretty. Dressed nice.”

Jay leaned back in the chair, eyebrow raised, even though no one could see him. “There’s nothing going on. I just told her about your clinic. I thought you liked referrals?”

“Yes, I do, but you, my friend, have never referred anyone to me ever since I put up shop here,” Sunghoon replied, chuckling. “You never told people about my clinic. I had to hang my own damn poster in your window last year because you said—and I quote—‘people don’t look at windows anyway.’”

Jay chuckled. “I let you advertise, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point. Who is she?” Sunghoon asked again.  “I have a feeling.”

“Everyone has feelings.”

Sunghoon sighed in exasperation. “Okay, smart boy. You won’t tell me? Fine. I’ll ask her myself when she comes in for their next appointment.

Jay shook his head with a soft laugh, standing up to put his dirty dishes away. “What do you take me for? She’s a married woman with a kid. I’m not interested in her like that.”

A pause. Then Sunghoon said casually, “Dude, she’s not married.”

Jay blinked. “What?”

“Well, she was, but from what I know, she’s in the middle of a divorce. So technically, she’s not married.”

Jay sat up a little straighter. “How do you even know that?”

“I asked the kid where his dad was. He said, ‘Far away.’ Then his mom clarified. Told me they’d moved recently, and she’s still figuring stuff out. You know, small talk between patients.”

Jay didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just chuckled and said, “So you violated patient confidentiality and now you’re airing out other people’s businesses?”

“For the record, my patient was her son,” Sunghoon replied defensively. Then he added, “Didn’t seem like she was trying to hide it, anyway. Just honest, you know?”

“Huh.” Jay glanced toward the windows where he could see his pharmacy from across the street. “Well. Good to know, I guess.”

He ended the call not long after, but the subject of their conversation lingered in his mind.

She’s not married anymore. He wasn’t sure what the feeling in his chest was—maybe surprise, maybe… relief? Whatever it was, Jay found himself watching the door a little more than usual after that day.

Just in case you walked in again.

After that conversation with Sunghoon, Jay didn’t do anything drastic. He wasn’t about to pull a move just because he found out you were single—not officially, anyway. But he started to be less subtle about his interest.

He started talking more. Not just the usual small talk about the weather, but real casual, yet still low-risk questions. 

“How are you liking the neighborhood so far?” “Your kid doing better?” Or, “You always this early on Saturdays?”

You answered, always polite. Sometimes amused. Once, you even teased him back when he told you the cold medicine you picked was the second-best option. 

“Aren’t pharmacists supposed to say they all have the same formula anyway?” you said with a soft laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. Jay liked that more than he probably should have.

He didn’t flirt, not really. But he started offering you things. A pack of cookies he claimed was “going stale anyway.” A small bottle of hand sanitizer because “everyone’s getting sick.” And once, a chocolate bar he claimed was “part of a promo” even though there was no promo.

You smiled every time, said thanks, and walked out with your usual grace—hair tucked neatly behind one ear, blouse always crisp, trousers cleanly pressed. Jay noticed everything. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.

Still, you never said anything. Never called him out on the extra attention, never gave him a look that told him to stop. That was all the encouragement he needed.

He was still taking his time. But now, at least, he had a reason to hope.

One day, Jay was standing outside the school gates, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the crowd of chattering kids and waiting parents. It didn’t take long before he spotted his niece, bouncy steps, pigtails flying, and a pink backpack two sizes too big.

“Uncle Jay!” she yelled, running toward him.

“Hey, kiddo,” he greeted, crouching down to catch her in a hug.

The second he pulled away, she blurted out, “I have a boyfriend.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, amused. “You do?”

She nodded proudly, pointing across the pavement. “That’s him.”

Jay followed her finger, and there you were, walking hand in hand with your son. The kid was talking animatedly, and you were smiling, eyes soft as you nodded along. It was a nice sight. Sweet and warm in a way that tugged at something in his chest.

“Well, baby girl,” he said slowly, lifting his niece into his arms, “you can’t date him.”

“Why not?” she asked, all sass.

“Because,” he said with a smirk, “Uncle Jay’s thinking about making him my son.”

She squinted at him, suspicious. “Why? That’s gonna make us cousins.”

“Yeah,” Jay chuckled, “pretty much.”

You spotted them then. Your car was parked nearby, and your gaze landed on him as you crossed the lot. You gave him a little wave, your smile as kind as always.

“Hi,” you said, your son hanging off your arm.

Jay straightened, offering a smile back. “Hey, nice to see you.”

“You know what, yeah,” you chimed, brows creasing slightly. “It’s quite nice seeing you outside your pharmacy for a change.”

Jay just nodded, eyes flitting to your son, then back at you. “This is my niece,” he said quickly, patting her back. “Not my daughter.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve met her parents,” you said with a friendly grin. “Did you know your niece’s been telling everyone my son is her boyfriend?”

Jay glanced at the two kids, now locked in a shy, giggly standoff behind him. “He’s  got good taste.”

You laughed lightly, genuinely, and just a little surprised. “Apparently so.”

He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t think about anything other than how he could casually bring up coffee and smoothly segue to asking you if you wanted to grab one with him. But then the moment passed before he could even get a word in.

“Well, see you around,” you said, nudging your son gently toward the car.

“Yeah,” Jay managed. “See you.”

You gave him one last smile, then disappeared behind the driver’s seat, pulling away with a wave.

That was fine. There’d still be a next time.

After that afternoon at the school parking lot, Jay found himself suddenly with a new reason to pick up his niece every single day. Sure, he loved his niece, but let’s be honest—he wasn’t complaining about the extra excuse to see you more often. 

Naturally, you bumped into each other more and more thanks to this slight shift in his daily routine. You kept popping up in the right places at the right times, too. At the pharmacy, at the school gate, on the sidewalks. Slowly, the awkward ‘strangers’ vibe turned into something more friendly and familiar. More conversations, more smiles, until he was finally able to ask you out.

Well—technically, it wasn’t him. It was his niece who asked you out, although he had to admit he’d orchestrated the whole thing when he casually brought up ice cream one afternoon while picking her up. The little girl, who was more or less nuts about ice cream, naturally asked if they could get some.

“Of course we can,” he told his niece. “What about your boyfriend? Does he like ice cream?”

She gave him a glare. “You said he can’t be my boyfriend.”

Jay smiled and said, “Doesn’t mean you can’t hang out with him as friends.”

Next thing he knew, there they were—Jay, you, your son, and his niece sitting at the little picnic tables by the park, one ice cream each. The kids were loud, the sun was warm, and the conversation between you felt… right.

Jay wasn’t proud of using his niece as a wingman, but hey—he had to get creative.

In that short afternoon, he learned you weren’t originally from the city. You said you moved around a lot growing up—something about your dad being in the military—and now you craved stability for your son. Jay told you he was born and raised here but had spent a couple of years abroad for school. You asked if he missed it. He said, sometimes, but this place always pulled him back.

He also found out you liked black coffee, hated olives, and were deathly afraid of frogs. You learned he once worked as a barista, still played the guitar sometimes, and secretly hated studying pharmaceutics in college but was too lazy to change courses.

Then, at some point—Jay didn’t even remember what led to it—he found himself asking, “How’s it going, by the way? The divorce with his dad?”

You looked a little caught off guard, but not upset. “We’re almost done with it,” you said. “That’s why my son and I made the move already, but…” You paused, brow furrowed slightly. “How did you know?”

Jay hesitated. “Sunghoon, the pediatrician. He’s a friend and he mentioned it.”

Your eyebrows rose. “But he’s a doctor. You know, patient confidentiality and all that.”

“But you weren’t the patient,” Jay pointed out, smirking.

“Ah, a loophole,” you said with a small laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Jay said. “We weren’t gossiping or anything. It just came up in passing. He didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you said, before he could finish. “Really. I don’t mind. I was just surprised you guys talked about me, that’s all.”

You gave him a small smile—reassuring but a little distant—and he didn’t press any further.

Later, you drove off in your car and he in his, both of you back to your own worlds again—at the pharmacy, at the school gate, little moments here and there. The year slipped quietly by like that.

Jay still wasn’t in a rush. You probably have enough on your plate as it is without him trying to work his way into your heart. But he liked that he was getting to know you piece by piece, week by week. And you… Well, you didn’t really mind.

Life simply kept happening in the last year that you knew each other. Jay still saw you at the pharmacy. You didn’t drop by as often anymore—just the occasional cough syrup run or a forgotten errand on your way home—but when you did, he always noticed. Noticed the way you gradually started dressing more comfortably now, with your hair tied looser. The way you started greeting him by name. The way your son would run straight for the vitamin gummies section without asking.

There were school events, too. Halloween parades, bake sales, parent-volunteer days. Jay somehow always ended up manning the drink table with you, or stacking plastic chairs nearby, or chatting while the kids ran wild in the gym. You once made him try your brownies, then smugly told him they were store-bought after he said they were amazing.

Sometimes the kids would ask for another ice cream day, and you’d give in because it was summer, or the end of a long week, or just because. You’d sit with Jay at a park bench while the kids played, sipping iced coffee and trading random bits of adult life. Insurance. Streaming shows. Grocery hacks. Divorce lawyers.

Once, he bumped into you at a bookstore downtown. You were by yourself, reading the back of a novel. He offered to walk you to your car. You ended up getting coffee instead, sitting at a corner table while the rain tapped against the window. You didn’t talk about anything deep that day, but Jay went home thinking about it anyway.

The friendship never needed defining. You never talked about what it was or what it wasn’t. But it was warm and consistently growing. And though it never crossed any clear lines, Jay knew exactly where his heart had been all year—right there, slowly unfolding beside yours.

Your son’s birthday came on a Saturday with clear skies and just the right kind of weather for running around. Jay arrived with his niece in one hand and a tray of slightly overbaked brownies in the other. He’d insisted on bringing something because he said it felt rude to come empty-handed. You’d invited him ahead of time, not just as his niece’s chaperone, and he’d been flattered—even if you said it as casually as offering someone gum.

The party wasn’t anything extravagant. Just an inflatable playhouse in the backyard, a long table of finger foods, and a few cartoon-themed decorations here and there, but it was perfect. Kids were loud and happy, the food was good, and you looked relaxed for once.

Jay kept mostly to the sidelines, hovering near the snack table or helping pass out juice boxes. You were on the patio chatting with other parents, glancing toward the kids every so often. Later, he found himself in the kitchen with Lucy, your friend from the city, godmother to the birthday boy, and someone who had clearly known you long enough to tease you without remorse. Jay had just helped hand out second helpings to hungry kids and was wiping his hands on a napkin when you walked in.

“Thanks for helping out,” you said with a smile. “Didn’t realize kids’ parties require keeping kids entertained and their parents too. Just not with inflatables but with random stories and gossip.”

Jay chuckled as he leaned against the counter. “No problem at all. I like helping.”

Lucy smirked from her perch on the stool. “I think he just doesn’t want to hang out with the moms.”

“The moms seem nice,” Jay said. “I just can’t relate to them much.”

You chuckled as Lucy raised an eyebrow like she didn’t quite buy it. But she didn’t press. Instead, she turned her attention to you. “His dad didn’t show?”

You shook your head. “He’s abroad. Business.”

Lucy scoffed softly. “Of course he is.”

“I honestly don’t mind,” you said. “It’s better this way.”

Jay watched your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, then loosen again.

Lucy nodded in agreement. “Birthday boy wasn’t thrilled, though.”

“No, he wasn’t,” you admitted, exhaling softly. “But he’s fine now. Kids bounce back quickly.”

Lucy smiled. “Wish adults could do that.” Then she excused herself to the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone.

You turned toward him. “You want anything else to drink?”

Jay glanced at the counter. “I think I maxed out on the juice.”

You pulled open the fridge. “There’s soda, a couple beers... nothing special.” A second passed. “Actually—” You reached for the cabinet above the sink. “I have a bottle of wine I’ve been saving.”

Jay raised a brow. “Saving it for what?”

“Finished the house renovations last month,” you said, pulling out the dusty bottle and turning it in your hands. “Figured I’d celebrate.”

He smiled. “But?”

You gave a small shrug. “Didn’t really feel like opening it alone.”

Jay’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, how you said it offhand, but didn’t quite meet his gaze.

“Well,” he said, holding out his glass. “You’re not alone now.”

You poured for both of you and handed him a glass, your fingers brushing briefly against his.

“To the house,” he said, lifting it slightly.

You clinked your glass to his. “And to a finalized divorce and custody battle.”

That earned a laugh from him, surprised, but not mocking. You were blunt sometimes, but not bitter. He liked that.

Jay took a sip, then caught a glimpse of your hand as you lowered your glass. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you’re still wearing that?”

You looked down at your wedding band, brows lifting like you’d forgotten it was even there. “Yeah. I can’t take it off.”

“Why?” he asked, tilting his head. “Still in love with the guy or something?” he quipped.

“God, no,” you blurted, shuddering. “Ew.”

“Then?”

“I literally can’t take it off,” you said plainly, making a show of trying to pull it out. “It’s stuck.”

Jay squinted. “Seriously?”

You held your hand out, fingers splayed. “Tried soap, oil, all the TikTok tricks. Nothing.”

He took your hand gently, eyes narrowing as he inspected the ring. “Have you tried the dental floss trick?” 

You shook your head.

“It might work. Can I give it a try?”

“Oh, yes, please,” you said, sighing in relief. “I beg.”

He smiled, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckle. “Alright then. Let’s see what we can do.”

You disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a spool of dental floss, handing it back to him with a look that says you were leaving your life in his hands. “How does it work exactly?”

“You thread the floss under the ring, then wrap your finger tightly. It compress the skin around the ring. Then it slides right off.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Wrap my finger in string and watch it turn purple? Sounds great.”

“Don’t mock the science,” Jay quipped, chuckling lightly. “Doctor Jay is in. Patient, please assume the position.”

You exhaled sharply and held out your hand, resting it on the towel. Jay gently took it, careful and delicate as he turned your palm over.

“Okay,” he said, threading the floss under the ring. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“It already hurts.”

“We haven’t started yet.”

“Just mentally preparing,” you muttered.

He began wrapping the floss tightly, brows furrowing in focus. He tugged on the floss and the ring began inching up slowly, twisting as it went. You hissed in pain.

“Okay, okay. That hurts.”

“Scale of one to ten?”

“Like… a six,” you hissed, then muttered, “seven now.”

“Almost there,” he murmured, still tugging on the floss. “You’ve got teeny fingers, but this thing is clinging for dear life.”

“Story of my marriage,” you muttered under your breath.

Jay snorted, caught off guard. “That’s a little dark.”

“Sorry. Reflex.”

“Don’t apologize. I laughed.” He twisted the ring again

You squeezed your eyes shut, muttering curses under your breath. Then finally, the ring came free and rolled across the counter.

You stared at your hand, red and slightly dented. “Holy crap.”

Jay laughed, shaking out the floss like he’d just defused a bomb. “Beauty is pain.”

You laughed breathlessly, cradling your hand. “I think I need a splint.”

He picked up the ring and set it gently on the towel, giving you a look that was half playful, half something else. “Now your marriage is officially over.”

You flexed your hand, laughing through the sting. “Yeah, but I think I lost circulation.”

“I’ll write you a prescription,” he said, chuckling.

“You’re a pharmacist.”

Jay shrugged. “No need for prescription then. I can just bypass the system, I guess.”

You rolled your eyes. The joke wasn’t funny, but he was endearing. Leaning your hip against the counter, you studied your finger. The faint groove where the ring had been was already fading. “That feels weird. But like, good weird. Lighter.”

Jay glanced at the ring, now sitting quietly on the towel. “Looks better off, honestly.”

You met his eyes, and for a second, the kitchen felt a little smaller. A little quieter.

“Thanks,” you said, softer now. “For doing that.”

He offered a small smile. “Anytime.”

There was a few seconds of silence before you nudged the wine bottle toward him. “Be a dear and give me a refill.”

Jay obliged, beaming as he poured you another glass. He didn’t say it out loud because he knew he sounded delusional, but he was pretty sure this counted as a date.

On a routine pickup one afternoon at school, Jay was cornered by a mom at the school gates, asking about his niece’s mom. 

“She’s at home with the baby. Her husband’s out of town so I’m on pick-up duty today.”

“Pretty sure I’ve seen you on pick-up duty every day,” the mom, Mila, quipped, smiling at his niece. “That’s a shame, I was going to have a small dinner party at home for my birthday. I was hoping she could come.”

“I’m sure she would have loved to,” Jay replied, smiling politely.

Mila was about to say something when she spotted you walking out of the gate holding hands with your son. She waved you over and you walked over with a smile that had Jay staring at you, momentarily distracted.

“Mila! Happy birthday!” you greeted, giving Mila a quick peck on the cheek.

“I texted the group chat, but you didn’t respond. You’re coming tonight, right?” said Mila, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “It’s just dinner with the regular group. Nothing fancy. Just wine and some good food.”

You nodded. “Of course. Count me in.”

Then Mila turned to Jay, who had just helped his niece buckle into her booster seat.

“You should come too,” she said, smiling warmly. “It’s a pity your sister isn’t here, but you’re welcome to join us if you like.”

Jay was slightly caught off guard. “Oh, uh... I wouldn’t want to intrude. It’s a mom thing, right?”

“Nonsense. You’re very much welcome,” Mila insisted, brushing him off like he’d just said something ridiculous. “We can be a little crazy, but we promise we won’t bite.”

Jay glanced over at you as if he was seeking out your permission. You seemed to have recognized his cue because your brow arched slightly in amusement, then you gave a casual shrug that said up to you. So he nodded. “Alright. I’d love to.”

“Excellent. No need to remove a seat, then,” said Mila.

The dinner was held at Mila’s place, a cozy house with a low-lit patio and a long table set with mismatched wine glasses and shared platters of food. The conversation was endless, aided by a few open bottles of red wine, and soon enough, Jay found himself the lone man among a lively circle of moms who had so much more in common than he could even begin to fathom.

For the first ten minutes, he felt like he was on a reality show. The Real Housewives of Suburbia, featuring one slightly panicked guest star. They were curious, but kind. Their questions flew in fast and with zero malice.

“So the pharmacy is yours alone, right? That’s impressive.”

“And the house too?” another mom asked. “For someone so young, you’re doing amazing.”

Jay chuckled shyly. “Well, I had help when I was starting out.”

“And you’re not dating anyone?” someone else chimed in, barely letting him breathe.

“Not at the moment,” he said carefully, sipping his wine. He hesitated for the briefest second, eyes finding your across the table, then he smiled. “I’ve got my eyes on someone. Just… haven’t worked up the nerve yet.”

That earned a round of swoons, some playful nudges, and exaggerated sighs.

One of the moms, already tipsy, leaned over and said, “You’ve got your eye on someone? She better not be married. Like our new girl here, finally single and free!”

You looked up mid-sip. “Sorry?”

“Oh, come on. You’re beautiful, young, finally divorced. Are you back in the game or what?”

Jay glanced at you, curious.

You set your glass down and smiled politely. “I think I’ll sit the game out for now. Right now I’m just focused on getting things in order. My son’s adjusting well, and I’d like to keep the stability going for him before I add anything new to the mix.”

There were understanding nods around the table, murmurs of approval. Still, one mom leaned in, waggling her brows. “But you have thought about it.”

You only smiled again, sipping your wine without answering.

Jay watched you quietly, your calmness, the way you dodged the question like it wasn’t the first time someone had tried to nudge you back into the dating scene. And for a second, he wondered what your answer would’ve been if the question had come from him.

After dinner, the moms trickled out in pairs and small groups, some tipsy, others still laughing and giggling. Jay stood near the front gate with his keys in hand, offering casual goodbyes as they passed. You were lingering on the porch with your arms folded, smiling at something Mila was saying, when Jay caught your eye and tilted his head toward the driveway.

“I’ll drive you?” he asked casually, then noticing the other moms added a little louder, “Anyone else need a lift?”

He’d consider it a smooth save, but he knew the other moms still picked up on it. A few exchanged looks and grins, but no one said anything. One mom, clearly not reading the room, raised her hand. “Oh! If it’s not a bother, just two blocks from here.”

“Not at all,” Jay said, unlocking his car and popping the doors open with a charming little smile. “Hop in.”

And so, his spontaneous rideshare plan took off. He dropped off the others with polite small talk and exaggerated cheer, playing the gentleman driver role perfectly. By the time the last one stepped out with a hurried thanks, the car felt quieter with just the two of you left inside.

“Where to?” he asked as he merged back onto the road.

You gave him your address, which Jay quickly memorized, plotting the route in his mind as he slowly drove back into the highway. 

Breaking the silence, you said, “The dinner was nice. Except for that dessert.”

“Not a fan of lava cake?”

You winced. “Nope. Chocolate cakes leave a really odd aftertaste in my mouth.”

Jay shrugged. “It was a tad too sweet though, I’m not gonna lie.”

“I’m sure it was good. I’m just…” you trailed off, shrugging.

He glanced at you. “Sorbet? To get the taste out?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“Why not? I know a place that’s open late.”

He wasn’t kidding. He swung by a small dessert bar on the corner and returned with two cups of lemon sorbet, one hand shielding the cold from the summer air as he climbed back in.

The car was now parked right outside your house. You ate with your knees drawn up on the seat, your sandals dangling off one foot as you stared out the windshield at the quiet street.

“This is good,” you said, savoring a bite.

“Told you.”

The conversation wandered from weird birthday cakes to the shows your son was currently obsessed with, to which neighbor always overwatered their lawn. Jay made quips here and there, some funny but most of them had you rolling your eyes in exasperation. Nevertheless, you seemed to be enjoying his company as usual.

At one point, when the laughter had subsided and there was nothing else to say, you looked at him abd said, “Jay, be honest.”

Jay hummed, scraping at the bottom of his cup.

“Do you like me?” you asked.

Jay paused mid-bite. Then he glanced over, lips twitching. “Are you drunk?”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a ‘no’?”

 “No,” he said briskly, shaking his head once. 

“No?”  you asked back, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Huh?” he asked, and you were both quiet for a second. Jay looked away, chuckling awkwardly. “No. I don’t mean to say I don’t like you. I do. You’re pretty cool.”

“Thanks,” you replied, still a little confused. “I like you too.”

Jay felt his heart pick up pace. “You do?”

You nodded casually, putting your now empty cup back into the plastic bag. “Yeah. You’re nice and funny. You’re good with kids. What’s not to like?” 

Then you mumbled, “Not to mention good-looking.”

“Sorry, what?”

You glanced up at him, feigning an innocent smile. “Nothing.”

Jay was unconvinced but he just nodded. “So…” he trailed off, deep in thought. “Wait. What’s going on right now? Are we… you know, confessing… feelings?”

“I guess,” you replied, shrugging. 

“This is not how I pictured it would happen.”

“Me neither,” you chuckled. “It’s fine, this isn’t deep or anything. I just genuinely think you’re nice and funny and…” You looked away, murmuring under your breath. “Hot.”

“I heard that.”

You glanced back at him. “You did? Heh. Well, it’s true.”

“I think you’re hot, too.”

Silence stretched between you for a second too long. Jay looked at you, his sorbet cup long forgotten in his hand. You weren’t smiling or saying anything, just watching him with a soft, unreadable expression that made his heart kick a little harder in his chest.

And then you leaned in to press a gentle, curious kiss on his lips. Jay froze for a second, startled, then kissed you back just as gently. Your mouths barely moved. Just pressed against each other’s, satisfying a curiosity you both didn’t know you even had.

You pulled away first. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your eyes lowering. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Jay blinked. “Why not?”

“I just… I wasn’t planning on—” You shook your head, voice faltering. “A relationship’s the last thing on my mind right now. I’ve got too much going on. My head’s not in the right place.”

Jay nodded slowly, his eyes still on you. “I get it,” he said. “I really do.”

You smiled faintly. “I’m not saying I don’t want this. Just…” You sighed.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jay replied, chuckling. “I just want to get to know you more. No pressure. No expectations.”

You didn’t say anything else, you just smiled, opened your door and stepped out. Jay climbed out after you, walking with to your front door. You stopped just by the porch light, and for a moment, it felt like everything slowed down again.

Jay rubbed the back of his neck. “Would it be okay if I asked to take you out sometime? You know… like a date. If that’s not too much.”

You didn’t answer with words right away. Instead, you leaned in again—this time slower, more certain—and kissed him on the lips.

Then you pulled back, hands cupping his jaw and your thumb rubbing gently against his skin. “I would love that.”

Jay couldn’t hide the satisfaction in his smile. He held your hand on his cheek and nodded. “Good night, then.”

“Good night, Jay.”

Jay didn’t jump into something right away. There were no talks or commitment, just a mutual understanding that something was beginning. Or that something had already begun and was now picking up pace.

The next time he saw you after that night, it wasn’t anything special. Just a routine playdate between Jay’s niece, your son, and a couple of other kids. He showed up at your door with takeout. You let him in.

You ate together on the couch while the kids built a fort in the next room, the two of you laughing every time someone got “shot” and screamed dramatically for help.

Later, with your feet tucked under you and half a spring roll in your hand, Jay glanced at you and said, “This feels dangerously like a date.”

You smiled without looking away from the TV. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Maybe if you give me some, it’ll feel more like a date,” Jay quipped, glancing sideways at you.

You met his gaze, scowling in confusion at whatever he meant by that. Jay simply grinned and tapped his index finger on his lips. That made you roll your eyes.

You rolled your eyes. “What are we, teenagers?”

He shrugged. “What about asking for a kiss is teenager-ish?”

You gave him a look. “Asking.”

Jay tilted his head like he was considering that. “Then should I just… not ask?”

That made you narrow your eyes at him. “How old are you?”

“What’s age got to do with anything?”

“Just tell me.”

“Twenty-five.”

Your brows furrowed. “Really?”

He chuckled. “Why? Do I look younger than that?”

“Be serious. How old are you for real?” You scooted an inch away from him on the couch.

“Old enough.”

“Jay Park,” you warned.

He held his hands up, amused. “Okay, okay. How old do you think I am?”

“Like, twenty-six. At least.”

He was, in fact, twenty-three. “Close,” he said, lips twitching.

But your suspicious glare didn’t waver. Jay sighed, raising both hands in surrender. “Fine. I’m twenty-three.”

You gasped, shot up from the couch, and covered your mouth like you’d witnessed a crime.

“What—why? What’s wrong?” Jay asked, chuckling though he was panicking.

You stared at him, completely silent. And then you placed a hand on your temple and started laughing like you were slowly losing your mind.

“Say something!” Jay said, standing to follow you. “You can’t be that much older than me.”

“Get out,” you said through your laughter, but you didn’t mean it. Jay could tell by the way you let him pull you into a hug, your body warm against his.

He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into your shoulder, playful and close. “Okay, they told me it’s rude to ask a lady her age, but how old are you?”

You rolled your eyes, but he felt you soften a little in his arms. “I had my son when I was twenty.”

Jay pulled back just enough to look at you. “Isn’t he six now?”

You nodded. He blinked. “So… twenty-six?”

“Almost twenty-seven.”

Jay grinned. “That’s not bad.” You gave him a skeptical look.

“What?” he said. “It’s like a four-year gap. That’s nothing.”

You gave a noncommittal hum but didn’t pull away. Jay counted that as a win. He sighed in relief. “This is nice.”

That made you roll your eyes and push him away. “Get away from me, kid.”

A few days later, he spotted you at the farmer’s market. He almost didn’t say anything—your hair was pulled back, and you looked calmly beautiful in a way that made his chest ache. But then your son spotted him first. 

“Uncle Jay!” he called out, waving a hand in the air. 

And that was that. He tagged along while you picked out vegetables, carried your bags, passed you napkins when your son smeared apple juice on his face. You teased him for overpaying for pears. He told you your taste in fruit was ‘objectively incorrect.’

And when the three of you sat together on a bench, quietly sharing a cinnamon roll, Jay didn’t say anything about how close your shoulders were. He didn’t dare. If he pointed it out, you might pull away, and then he wouldn’t know how to make you scoot back again.

Some nights, he texted you dumb things.

Jay: I strongly recommend some Vitamin J for you. Jay: yknow? Vitamin JAY. You: I’m blocking you. Jay: Pls don’t. I will literally cry You: You text like you’re 15 Jay: I’ll take that as a compliment Jay: Didn’t have this much game when I was 15 

On weekends, he found excuses to drop by. Sometimes it was a coffee run. Other times, it was helping your son with a diorama project, both of them hunched over cardboard and glue while you watched from the kitchen.

“Is it scientifically accurate for the T-Rex to sparkle?” Jay asked.

Your son looked serious. “Dinosaurs loved glitter.”

Jay nodded solemnly. “That tracks.”

He didn’t ask for more than you were giving. He liked the way things were unfolding in casual conversations and small glances, in the way you teased him when he stared too long and smiled absentmindedly at you.

At one point, you started handing him little tasks like picking up paper towels, grabbing snacks for the kid, helping carry folding chairs for a school event. Jay liked it. Not because he wanted credit, but because it made him feel like a part of your life in ways that felt natural.

It was like that, for a while. Gentle and organic. There were no talks about what you were or where it was going, just two people figuring it out between shared errands, porch conversations, and casual brush-of-the-hand moments. Jay didn’t push. 

One evening, you were out on your front porch with glasses of wine in hand, the air cool and quiet around you. Jay leaned against the railing, watching the way you curled your legs under yourself in that familiar spot on the porch swing.

You’d been talking for over an hour, swapping stories about bad haircuts, his old part-time jobs, and your failed employment stories. You were laughing, really laughing, and Jay found himself watching you in the porch light. The way your eyes twinkled, the lilt in your voice. It made him ache a little. Not in a sad way.

“You know,” he said, swirling what was left of his wine, “I still don’t get it.”

You looked over. “Get what?”

“You,” he said simply. “You’re smart. Kind. Thoughtful. You’re an amazing mom. You’re…” He hesitated, then just let it land. “You’re incredibly beautiful.”

You let out a soft laugh, looking away. “Okay, relax.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “I just don’t understand how someone could… fumble you. Like, how does that happen?”

The laughter left your mouth, but the smile lingered for a second before fading. You glanced down at your wine glass, turning it slightly in your hands.

“It wasn’t always bad,” you said. “Found out I was pregnant right after college and everything moved fast. We got married but it didn’t feel rushed at the time. It actually felt right.”

Jay didn’t say anything, letting you continue.

“He was loving. Supportive. Took care of me, took care of our son. We had years of what I thought was happiness. A good marriage. A stable home.” You let out a breath. “And then one day, I found out he’d been cheating on me. For years. With like dozens of women.”

You said it plainly, without drama, but Jay could feel how heavy it was when you sighed. The pain that had long since been folded and packed away.

“He was too good, actually. He never failed to show himself being the good husband, the doting dad. Said ‘I love you’ every chance he got, brought me flowers for no reason, took me on dates regularly. He was… I don’t know. Perfect.”

Jay set his glass down. He didn’t reach for you, didn’t speak right away. Just gave you space.

“He used to want to be an actor you know?” you continued, rolling your eyes. “He would’ve been really great at it. He managed to fool me for years that he was a devoted, painfully loyal husband. God, it still annoys me every time I remember how blindsided I had been.”

You looked up at him then, expecting maybe pity in his face. But there was none. Jay reached over and brushed his fingers against yours on the porch swing. 

“I’m sorry you had to experience that,” he said.

You chuckled softly. “Don’t be sorry for something you didn’t do.” You rolled your eyes and laughed. “And he was a jerk, alright? But I dropped his ass as soon as I found out. He said he had his reasons, but he was probably just gonna make excuses and pin it on me. For all I know, he was just sorry because I found out.”

Jay smiled proudly. “You did well.”

You shrugged. “I’m just glad that part of my life was over. It was a nightmare. I even had a pregnancy scare last year. We had just moved here, and it had only been like a month since I filed for divorce. Missed a period and genuinely thought I was pregnant again. It would’ve sucked because I'd be forced to stay with him.”

Jay remembered that. It was at his pharmacy that you went to buy a test kit, after all. It was then that he first met you. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since.

Soon the conversation became lighter and the night grew later. At one point, it was time for Jay to go. He had ran out of reasons to stay and he could see you were getting tired and sleepy.

You walked him to his car. “Thanks, Jay.”

Jay blinked. “For what?”

“For being here. For…” you shrugged. “Everything.”

“Don’t mention it. Anything to impress someone you like, right?” he said, defusing what would have been a serious conversation. It was not that he didn’t want serious conversations. He was just a little nervous that the grateful look in your eyes would end with you telling him you appreciated him, but couldn’t return his feelings.

Jay wasn’t the type to overthink, but he knew how to manage his expectations

You rolled your eyes and huffed a laugh. “Get out of here before I get sick of that face.”

Jay grinned, shaking his head as he pulled you into a hug. “I don’t think that’s possible. I’m under the impression that you like this face a lot.”

“Dream on, I guess,” you quipped.

He didn’t kiss you, though he wanted to. When he pulled away, he kept his hands in his pockets, nodded, and said, “Good night.”

“Good night, Jay.”

Jay didn’t hang out with his friends much. It was mainly because they lived halfway across the country or were too busy with adulthood to make time for old friends. It wasn’t really a big deal. They kept in touch, met at least once a year, and reached out to each other when needed. Jay liked his low-maintenance friends.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, was the opposite. He always checked in on them, always the one who made plans to meet, always the main reason the friend group was even alive. And naturally, since Jay and he were practically neighbors, Sunghoon always made sure they saw each other at least twice a week.

“What’s the score?”

“97 and 80. Your team’s toast,” Jay replied, leaning back on his couch, eyes fixed on the basketball game they were watching on his TV.

Sunghoon chuckled. “Not the game. I meant with you and the single mom.”

Jay scowled at his friend. “She has a name.”

“Yeah, I know, sorry,” said Sunghoon, hands raised in surrender. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.”

Jay didn’t say anything, just grabbed his bottle of beer and took a swig, his frown still in place. Sunghoon watched him for a few seconds before carefully broaching the subject again.

“So?”

Jay sighed. “We’re fine. We’re hanging out, going on dates. Having fun.”

“Is it serious?”

“I don’t know, man,” Jay replied honestly. “I think she likes me too, but I don’t think she’s… fully here. You know, emotionally.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “I mean, can you blame her? She just got divorced, and she has a kid. Getting into another relationship is probably the last thing on her mind right now.”

Jay leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m taking my time.”

Sunghoon shook his head with a grin. “Man, you really have a thing for wounded older women with pretty eyes and emotional baggage, don’t you?”

Jay didn’t flinch. “She’s not broken,” he said, not harshly, just quietly. “She’s doing good and she’s perfect just the way she is.”

Sunghoon blinked. “Damn, bro. You’re down bad.”

The next day, Jay went to pick up his niece at school and say hi to you. He knew he could just text you to say ‘hi’, but nothing beats seeing you in person. 

He stood near the fence, waiting for the school bell to ring, when he caught sight of a familiar group gathered near the benches—a circle of moms you were friends with. You were there too, and the sight of you made Jay grin from ear to ear.

Damn. Sunghoon was right. He was down bad for you, and frankly? It was getting a little embarrassing.

Jay shook his head at himself, chiding himself as he approached your circle. He stopped when he heard his name pop up.

“I knew he liked you,” Mila said, chuckling. “What guy would hang out with a bunch of moms for no reason? I mean, it’s not like he could talk to us about homemade croutons or loose baby teeth.”

They laughed while you looked down at your hands with your cheeks burning and a shy but unmistakable smile on your lips.

“He’s so young, though,” another mom commented. “Not that it’s bad. You’re pretty young, yourself.”

One mom snickered playfully. “Does it matter? Jay doesn’t seem to mind the gap at all. And, honey, let me tell you about them young men—”

“Oh my, God. Stop!” another mom chided, discouraging the subject when she noticed Jay approaching.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks but keep smiling as your mom friends quickly scattered, shooting you quick knowing looks as Jay came closer.

“Hey,” Jay said, smiling as if he didn’t just catch them gossiping.

You tried your best to smile normally. “Hey.”

“Am I wrong to think I’m pretty famous among your mom friends?”

You laughed, tilting your head. “Don’t let it get to your head. Moms have short attention spans.”

“Really?” he asked, genuinely curious. That made you laugh again.

“Of course, not.” 

Jay grinned, then reached for the sleeve of your jacket, brushing some lint off it absently. 

You gave him a look. “See that? That’s why you’re the subject of moms’ gossip.”

Jay rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, and he didn’t let go of your sleeve right away. Not long after, your son came running out of the gate, and you welcomed him with a big hug and a peck on his forehead.

“How was your day?”

“Amazing! The teacher brought a volcano into class today!”

Your eyes glimmered as you smiled. “Oh, that is amazing. How did she do that?”

Jay was watching fondly when he heard his niece call out to him. He glanced at the gates, waving a hand and beckoning the child over. You exchanged pleasantries and a quick chat before Jay offered to walk you to your car.

“See you, Monday, big guy,” Jay said to your son, giving him a high-five before turning to you with a smile. “See you, pretty.”

You scoffed, trying to downplay how it made your stomach flutter. “See you around, Jay.”

Jay gave one last wave before stepping back from the car, watching you turn your engine on and start to drive. But you didn’t leave right away, instead, you rolled your window down and called him over again.

“What’s up?” he asked.

You couldn’t look him in the eyes, but Jay caught the way you swallowed nervously as you tucked your hair behind your ear. “Do you wanna… come over Friday night?”

Jay blinked. Did he hear that right?

“My son’s got a sleepover with a couple of his friends. I’ll be at home, making dinner. I was wondering if you’d like to join me.”

Jay’s heart did this little flip in his chest. This was something entirely new to him. You’d never made a move on him before, never made plans first. Now you’re inviting him over for dinner?

“Like a date?”

For a second, something flashed in your eyes that made Jay think you were about to take it back. But you didn’t. You just looked away, scowling like this was hard for you to say.

“Yes,” you said begrudgingly. “Like a date.”

Jay tilted his head, grinning mischievously. “Why are you saying it like you don’t mean it?”

“Forget it,” you grumbled, rolling your windows up.

“No, no, wait!” Jay tapped on your window just before it completely closed. “Yes. I’ll go. I’d love that. I’ll even wear a tie.”

You rolled your windows back down, glaring at him but unable to control your smile. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Yeah? Well,” he said, shrugging. “You’re cute when you get all shy like that.

You leaned your head on the backrest and sighed. “Go away before I change my mind.”

Jay was quick to move away from your car. “Yes, ma’am.”

You grabbed the steering wheel, glancing at him again and saying, “I’ll text you.”

“Looking forward to it!”

You nodded, cheeks still blushing, and you went your separate ways. Jay walked to his car with his chest a little lighter, already thinking about what Friday night might mean.

Jay showed up at your door at seven that Friday night. On the dot, not even a minute late.

No tie, but he wore a navy blue coat over a crisp, white button-down. His hair was styled, not too polished, but enough to show he’d put in effort. He had wine in one hand and a smug little grin.

“Wow,” you said, leaning on the doorframe. “Didn’t I say I was making dinner?”

“You did,” he replied, stepping inside as you held the door open. “And I put on a jacket for it. I’d feel severely overdressed if you’re feeding me grilled cheese.”

You laughed, closing the door behind him. “About that…”

Jay turned to look at you, narrowing his eyes. “What?”

You took a deep breath and said, “I thought about it and realized—I’ve never actually tasted your cooking. You talk a lot about it, but I have zero proof you’re not just making things up.”

He stared at you for a few seconds, recognizing the mischief in your smile and the twinkle in your eyes. “But this is Prada,” he quipped, pointing to his coat.

You clasped your hands together and let out an exaggerated gasp. “Really? So was my lip balm! Come on!”

Jay dropped his head back as you grabbed his hand and led him into your brightly lit kitchen. “How good can you make steak?”

“Good?” he smirked. “I make the most amazing steak and not break a sweat.”

“Uh-huh. Impressive,” you deadpanned, stopping in front of the countertop where ingredients were waiting for Jay.

He gave the countertop one sweeping gaze before sighing and shrugging off his coat. You offered to put it away, and he watched you cross the hall with grace, disappearing into the living room as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

By the time you returned, he already had an apron in hand.

“You conned me,” he said, slipping it on. “But I’m gonna let it slide because I don’t play when it comes to my cooking.”

You giggled, grabbing your own apron. Jay stepped behind you, wordlessly taking the ribbons from your hands. His fingers brushed your waist, then lingered for a moment as he tied the knot. You gathered your hair, and he caught the faint scent of your perfume—soft, floral, familiar. The curve of your neck made his mouth go dry, and suddenly, he was nervous about the fact that there was only you and him in this house right now.

He cleared his throat, a half-smile forming. When he was done, he placed both hands lightly on your shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You glanced back at him, surprised but not displeased.

He held your gaze, smiling. “And also because you look amazing tonight.”

You rolled your eyes at his compliment but couldn’t help smiling. “Flattery’s not gonna get you out of making the steak.”

Jay grinned. “Wasn’t trying to get out of it. Just setting the mood for the night.”

Jay got to work, moving around your kitchen like it was second nature. You handed him utensils when he asked, refilled his glass without being prompted, and watched as he expertly diced garlic, tossed ingredients into a pan, and swirled them with a flick of his wrist. He tasted the sauce, frowned, added a splash of something, tasted it again, then smiled in satisfaction.

“You always this smug when you cook?”

“I’m not smug. I’m confident,” he said, smirking shamelessly. “Cooking’s my therapy. And it’s also how I assert dominance.”

You snorted. “Oh, wow. Color me impressed,” you said sarcastically.

At one point, you tried to reach for the tongs while he was sautéing garlic for the butter. Jay swatted your hand away gently, not even looking up. “You said you wanted to try my cooking, not ruin it.”

You gaped at him, laughing. “Wow. You’re so lucky I like you.”

He finally glanced over with a boyish smirk. “You like me?”

You pretended to groan. “Not for much longer.”

“Too late. I’m about to steal your heart with the best damn steak you’ve had in your life. You’ll be in too deep to back out.”

You leaned against the counter, chin resting in your palm as you watched him melt butter and swirl in the garlic, rosemary, and thyme. The sizzle filled the kitchen, along with the warm scent of herbs and richness. It smelled like something out of a cozy restaurant.

Jay caught your expression and smirked. “See? I told you.”

You chuckled. “Are you cooking to make food or to impress me?”

“How about both?”

It was true. Jay was thriving under the praise. Every time you made a noise of appreciation or leaned in to ask, “What is that you’re adding?”, he lit up just a little more. The more you complimented him, the more he showed off. He angled the skillet toward you to let you smell the browning butter, showed you the trick to checking the steak’s doneness with the press of a finger, and even flicked a bit of salt at you just to make you laugh.

It worked.

Dinner didn’t drag. In fact, it barely felt like a full meal had passed. You ate at the kitchen island with your stools pulled close, sharing bites off each other’s plates and laughing through most of it, especially when you dramatically insisted on plating the sides like a five-star chef and then immediately spilled the garnish. He kept joking that he was gonna post a review.

By the time you made it to the couch, the plates were in the sink and the lights were dimmed, leaving only the soft, amber glow of a lamp nearby.

Jay sank into the cushions first, two fresh glasses of wine in hand, his shirt now a little rumpled from cooking—and two buttons undone at the top. You probably didn’t even notice when that happened. Or maybe you did and just pretended not to.

You curled up next to him, barefoot now, wine in hand. Your legs folded beneath you, your head eventually resting on his shoulder as the minutes passed and the buzz in your veins mellowed everything out.

“This is nice,” you murmured, fingertips brushing the hem of his sleeve.

Jay glanced down, amused. “The wine or the company?”

You let out a small laugh. “The wine’s good.”

“Well, I brought it, so I’ll take that as a win.”

You nudged your shoulder into his chest, but you were smiling. “You know I mean both.”

He hummed, satisfied, his arm settling comfortably around you. It was warm there, the kind of warmth that made it feel like the night could stretch on forever. You stayed quiet for a bit, your head nestled against his chest, right where you could feel the subtle beat of his heart. It was steady. Comfortable. 

You talked about nothing for a while. Your son’s latest obsession with volcanoes. Jay’s niece and her newfound fear of ladybugs. The way old friends would drop off the radar then suddenly reappear with three kids and a golden retriever. All random stuff. Comfortable stuff.

You were warm and laughing. He liked hearing you laugh like that, relaxed and unguarded, a little sleepy from food and wine.

But then the mood shifted just slightly. There was a pause, a second longer than usual, and then you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Jay?”

Jay glanced down to meet your eyes. “Yeah?”

“Why do you like me?” You asked it softly, almost like you regretted it the second the words came out.

“I mean—really. I’m divorced. I’ve got a kid. I’m older than you. Not by a lot, but enough. Meanwhile, you’re…” You gestured vaguely at him. “You’re you. Handsome and young and sweet and patient. You could be with anyone.”

You looked down at your wine glass, twisting it slightly in your hand, like you were bracing for some kind of gently-worded pity.

But all he said was, “I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

You looked back at him, searching his face for more.

Jay sat up a little, just enough so he could look at you properly. “I don’t need some checklist version of perfect,” he said gently. “I don’t even know what a perfect woman is. I just know I like you.”

He reached out and took the wine glass from your hands, setting it aside on the coffee table. Then he cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb across your skin. “You’re smart. You’re funny when you’re not trying to be. You make me nervous sometimes, in the best way. And watching you with your kid? That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at him, like maybe you weren’t used to hearing things that simple and kind without a catch. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came.

Jay leaned in and kissed your forehead. “So don’t talk about yourself like you’re anything less than that.”

You exhaled, then you nodded, pressing your face back into his chest like you didn’t want him to see the look on your face. He held you a little closer, resting his cheek against the top of your head, and you stayed there like that.

“I think this is the part where I tell you that I like you too,” you said softly, but Jay heard every single word.

He glanced down at you and you looked up at him with a shy smile. You stared at each other for a while, then he leaned in slowly, giving you every second to pull away. But you didn’t. You tilted your face up to meet his, and your lips touched his with a softness that almost knocked the breath out of him.

When he pulled away, you reached up to cup his face. Jay kissed you again, this time longer. His hand slid to the nape of your neck, his thumb brushing behind your ear as he deepened it. When he felt your fingers slide over the open buttons of his shirt, resting on the warm skin underneath, he exhaled a shaky breath against your mouth.

“You sure?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded and that made him smile before he caught your mouth in another kiss. His hands roamed up your sides, under your shirt, across skin he’d only brushed in passing before. You were warm and soft beneath him, sighing against his mouth as he slipped his tongue between your lips, coaxing yours into something wetter, deeper, and hungrier.

Your dress came off in the blur between one kiss and the next, and then he was kissing down your neck, sucking gently at the base of your throat, hands on your breasts like he’d been dying to touch you. You gasped when his thumbs brushed over your nipples, hips instinctively bucking forward against him.

“Still with me?” he rasped.

You nodded. “Don’t stop.”

He slipped his hand into your shorts, fingers finding you slick and ready, and the way you moaned needily when he pressed went straight to his spine. He worked you slowly, mouth never leaving your skin. He kept his free hand on your hip as you parted your thighs for him. And you tried to stay quiet. Biting your lip and holding your breath to stifle your moans. Jay noticed that.

“No one’s home, love,” he whispered against your jaw, in between the small kisses he was planting on your skin. “You don’t have to hold it in.”

For you, that was persuasive enough. You cried out softly when he slid two fingers inside you. Your head fell back against the couch, lips parted, pussy pulsing around his fingers as he coaxed you closer into an orgasm.

His mouth around your nipple was making you lose your mind and it wasn’t long before you trembled underneath her and came with a sharp gasp.

Jay kissed you through it, slowly and tenderly. You snaked your hand under his shirt, undoing the buttons one by one. And when Jay pulled away for a second to tug it off, you placed a hand on his chest to stop him from kissing you again.

“Bedroom,” you said.

That one word was sentence enough for Jay. He rose to his feet, lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing and walked briskly toward the staircases. You pointed to your bedroom and he made it there in a flash. He laid you down like he was handling something precious, but the look in his eyes was anything but patient.

“Can you believe this is happening?” he asked, tucking a few strands of hair behind your eyes.

You didn’t say anything. You just opened your legs for him without shame, without hesitation. Jay got rid of the last articles of clothing he had on and jumped into bed. Then he slid inside you slow, eyes locked on your as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and your thighs around his hips.

You clenched around him with a soft cry—and Jay had to bury his face in your neck just to keep himself together. You were warm, tight, perfect around him, and he moved in a rhythm that was more reverent than rough, more worship than want.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You feel so good.”

You moaned softly, fingers digging into his back. “Keep going, Jay.”

That broke something in him—self restraint. He moved faster and steadier, hips slamming against yours delightfully. You clung to him, gasping his name as he fucked you deep and steady, pace growing rougher with each thrust, like weeks of tension were pouring out of him all at once.

You didn’t bother holding back. You cried out, loud and shameless, each sound feeding the fire between you. He kissed you again, swallowing your moans, one hand gripping your thigh, the other tangled in your hair.

“Oh, fuck, I needed this,” he whispered, panting against your lips as he continued his relentless thrusts.

“Oh, Jay.”

You came first—hard and fast, legs tightening around his waist as your cunt clenched tight around him, making him cum too. His hips stuttered, and he spilled inside you with a guttural moan, burying his face in you neck as you both lost your mind in the titillating euphoria brought about by the passion between you.

After a long moment, Jay fell onto the bed beside you, then pulled you closer to himi. Your head rested on his chest.

“Was that supposed to happen?” he asked, his voice still a little raspy.

“Absolutely not,” you chuckled, wrapping an arm around his torso. “Not without a condom, anyway.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

You shrugged. “It’s fine, I guess. I’m on birth control.”

Jay let out a quiet laugh. “Right. You picked them up regularly at the pharmacy.”

You pulled away just enough to glare at him. “Okay, I’m switching to another drugstore. Having you keep track of things like that is a little creepy.”

Jay smirked and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re only complaining about it now? Really? Right when I’ve seen everything there is to see?”

You slapped his chest, but didn’t argue. He hugged you tighter and you stayed like that for a few minutes more before you sat up with a sigh. Jaay propped himself up on his elbow, watching you blink sleepily.

“Bathroom?” he asked and you nodded.

He sat up on the bed and moved to press a kiss on your forehead before gently tugging you out of the bedroom.

The sound of water filled the bathroom as Jay adjusted the temperature in the tub. You were already curled in the basin, knees folded to your chest, chin resting on them while warm water wrapped around your skin. He climbed in behind you and pulled you between his legs, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Too hot?” he murmured near your ear.

You shook your head and let your body relax into him. The heat, the scent of your soap, the feel of his chest behind your back, all of it made you feel like you were floating.

He pressed a soft kiss to your damp shoulder. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About us? I keep thinking about my boy. What am I gonna tell him?”

Jay was quiet for a second. Then he said, “You tell him whatever you’re ready to tell him. I’ll follow your lead.”

You rested your head against his collarbone, comforted by how safe it felt. “Don’t follow my lead. I’m not good at this. I haven’t done this before. Dating as a single mom.”

“I know,” he said softly, chuckling. “But you’re forgetting that I haven’t done this before either.”

“Really?” you teased, glancing back at him. “Good to know. I had my suspicions that you liked older single moms.”

Jay laughed, and you felt the vibration of it through his chest. “Where did that even come from?”

You didn’t say anything, just giggled and shrugged. Then you turned your hand palm-up in the water, and Jay’s fingers intertwined with yours like they belonged there. You squeezed once, and he squeezed back.

“I’m not in a rush,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “Don’t worry about me.”

You nodded, comforted by his understanding. After a while, Jay chuckled. “Can’t believe I dressed up for dinner just to end up cooking and sitting naked in a bathtub.”

You snorted. “Feel free to leave if you hate it.”

He grinned into your shoulder. “Be honest. You conned me into cooking and sleeping with you, didn’t you?”

“In your dreams, Jay,” you scoffed, trying to shrug him off. He didn’t budge.

“It’s okay, love. I like it. You can con me every day, I won’t complain,” he said, smug.

“Oh, shut up!” you chided, recoiling when his chin tickled your neck.

He didn’t know what the next day would bring—or the next week, or month. But for the first time in a long time, Jay had something he wanted to hold on to. Something he wanted to last.

You.

[fin]

[tbaluver]

Caught You Staring ꩜ .ᐟ - The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, sylus x reader, caleb x reader requested: by anonnie ☕︎ summary: you get distracted from how handsome your boyfriend looks genre: fluff fluff + silly a/n: hihi lovelies ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ this was requested a while back and i finally finished this ! i hope you enjoy reading (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ and thank you for beta reading this @ilovemitsuya MWAH (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

you both were at the cafe, grabbing a quick bite while trying to finish the last Wanderer report before you both head back to the building. but honestly, how could you focus on paperwork when he was sitting across from you like that?

his light brown hair looked so soft, you wanted to run your finger through them. and his lips? they were slightly pursed, like he was in deep thought and they would always be so soft whenever you pressed your lips on them. they were just naturally perfect.

and those eyes. his blue eyes. they were like the ocean and every time he blinked, his long lashes fluttered so slowly and softly. you swore you could feel your heart skip a beat every time you were around him, it was ridiculous. but when are you ever normal about your man?

it didn’t take long for him to catch you staring but you were too busy admiring him to notice that those same beautiful blue ocean eyes were staring right back at you. for a good couple of minutes, you both stared at each other until it finally clicked.

your cheeks flushed as you blinked rapidly as if you were trying to reboot your brain. you stammered out an apology as you avoided his gaze, “sorry. i..i-”

“i win,” he says softly.

you blinked, confused. “..what?”

“staring contest,” he explains innocently, “i guess it’s unfair you had a head start so..let’s have a new round.”

Zayne:

most of the time, you two just did your own thing as you two spent time together. he’d occupy himself with a book or flip through patient reports, preparing for his next operation that would be in a couple of days. you did your own tasks but you couldn’t focus on anything he looked like that.

you looked up from whatever you were doing, only to get completely distracted by the way his glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, perfectly perched. the way he would occasionally adjust them with those long, slender fingers of his was somehow mesmerizing. you definitely weren’t staring but your eyes just seemed to be glued to him.

the way he was so focused on his work, so intent and serious, was just attractive. his jawline was so sharp, they could cut you and leave marks. the way his brows furrowed in concentration and you couldn’t help but admire how those soft lashes fluttered every time he blinked. and those hazel green eyes of his-

ahem

you didn’t realize it, but you had been staring for a while. so long, in fact he could feel your eyes burning through him as he did his own tasks. “i have a feeling you’re more interested in what i’m doing or perhaps do you need something?” he spoke without looking up.

your cheeks instantly flush. were you staring that long? “sorry i just got distracted..” you mumble as you scramble back to what you were originally doing.

the corners of his lips quirked, closing his book with a soft thud. “i see..” he murmured, adjusting his glasses. “then perhaps you can enlighten me on what was so distracting?”

Rafayel:

thomas had insisted that rafayel should finish his last canvas for the upcoming exhibition and naturally he would procrastinate for as long as he could but with thomas’s relentless nagging, he finally got to work. he begged- insisted that you stay with him for inspiration and support and who were you to turn down that request?

for the past couple of hours rafayel had been silently focused on his canvas, stroking the brush across the surface. meanwhile you stayed out of his way, letting him work in peace. but well, you couldn’t help but look up every now and then. 

he looked good in his white button up shirt, casually unbuttoned to reveal the little mole on his left pec and how his sleeves rolled up just enough to give you a peek of his veins. and those nebula eyes of his were so easy to get lost into.

he seemed to notice this of course but he didn’t bother to say anything though. instead, he lets you stare as long as you want, clearly trying not to let the smirk creep up on his lips. but as minutes passed he couldn’t resist anymore. “if you’re gonna stare cutie, take a picture.”

you blinked rapidly, snapping out of his trance as you scrambled back to what you were doing. your cheeks heated up as you quickly stammered out a quick apology. “sorry i was just..i just wanted to see what you painted so far..”  you knew you were lying and he knew too.

raf, clearly enjoying this, taps the brush innocently against his chin. “yeah? don’t liars get set on fire or something? should i light you on fire or..” he teases, giving you a playful grin.

you rolled your eyes, playfully huffing before walking around him, stepping closer to the canvas. “wait no-!” the teasing tone gone immediately as his hands flail to cover the canvas away from you. but it was already too late, your eyes landing on the canvas to find it..exactly as the same as before. no progress.

“raf..” you said flatly. “were you not painting at all?”

he gave an exaggerated hmph, crossing his arms as he turned away. “i can’t focus when you’re staring at me like i’m some kind of bait!”

Sylus:

you two sat beside each other in comfortable silence. he was cleaning one of his vintage guns while you were pretending to focus on your own task. it wasn’t easy when he was sitting right there, your gaze wandering over to him.

there was no denying your lover was handsome. his gaze was often found intimidating but not to you. his crimson were practically hypnotic to you, like you could lose yourself in them forever and still feel safe. you let your eyes trace his features, his soft hair, nearly swept back and how his lips curve, making it impossible not to imagine how they’d feel against yours right now.

before you knew it, you were completely lost in thought about him, your thoughts melting away as you admired every detail about him. you probably should have been more discreet about it when his voice broke through your daydream.

“if you’re that curious about what i’m doing, feel free to ask. i’m not the one to keep secrets from you.”

you blinked, snapping out of your trance to find him glancing at you with a raised brow. your cheeks flushed once you realize you’d been caught.

“i- um,” you stammered, fidgeting in your seat as you pretended to busy yourself back into what you were doing to avoid the embarrassment.

he chuckles as he watches you. “cat got your tongue?” he teases, closing the gun’s case with a soft click. “there. now i’m all yours sweetie.”

Caleb:

you two were sitting beside each other, working through training reports like old times. but this time it was different, maybe for you. this time you worked on training reports as an official couple. every time you tried to focus, your attention kept wandering back to him.

his dark brown hair looked so soft, you had to resist the urge to reach out and run your fingers through them. his hand rests thoughtfully on his chin and you couldn’t help but notice how his fingers skillfully flip his pen between them.

then there were his lips. a little curved and how much you love how that curve would widen into a full bright smile whenever he was around you. and his eyes, always full with so much longing for you as much as you did for him. you couldn’t help. you continued to stare at him, lost in the moment until his voice broke through your daydreams, pulling you back into reality.

“are you trying to telepathically tell me you need something pipsqueak?” he teases, his lips curling into a smile as he ruffles your hair gently. he rests his chin back on his hand, the way he looks at you was making your heart flutter all over again.

your face flushed. “i-um,” you stammered, shaking your head as you quickly averted your gaze, trying to focus back on the training report in front of you.

“you know,” his hand slides the report away from you. “if you’re tired, you can always lean on me. or maybe we can just take a break? how about that?” you glance back at him, the words getting caught in your throat as he smiles warmly at you, making the entire world pause just for a moment.

[littlegrapejuice]

Post Uploaded! | IH6

Pairing: Isack Hadjar x Reader

Summary: Being VCARB's social media admin is definitely not for the weak, especially when you got a chaotic duo to babysit. But maybe it isn't so bad when it means that you can land a cute driver as your boyfriend.

Author's Note: whoever's the actual vcarb admin, ilysm🫶🏻 istg i look forward to watch whatever they post everyday, it's just fucking hilarious + the dynamic btwn isack and liam is🔛🔝 also, huge thank you to my bestie @sk8termikey who beta read this, ily babe<3

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

“Have you seen this trend?” was probably the question that Isack asked you the most. And whether you replied positively or negatively, it was always followed by “can we do that?”.

As part of Racing Bulls’ social media team, it was supposed to be your job to be creative and find ideas for the team’s socials. However, due to Isack being even more chronically online than you, he was always suggesting things before you even had time to edit and post the previous videos you had filmed.

It was certainly a bit calmer now that Liam had replaced Yuki at Racing Bulls – Yuki was as chaotic as Isack, and them being together meant that you were never able to catch a break during race weekends. Still, Liam and Isack made up for a crazy duo.

But even if you let out the biggest sigh known to mankind whenever Isack was walking up to you, far from innocent grin on his face, you were glad that you didn’t have to force your drivers to film content. Social media admins from the other teams often expressed their jealousy, gushing about how lucky you were that you didn’t have to chase your drivers in the paddock just for a ten seconds long video.

You weren’t paid enough for that, though. You loved your drivers, you really did. But God, they were way too energetic for you. You had to listen to them talk about Cars at least twice a day – you loved the film, but not enough to hear about it every time you were with them; and they often argued about who you’d prefer based on whose idea you’d film first – definitely not Isack. But the most draining thing was for sure when they would both follow you everywhere around the paddock as soon as they had a video idea. Hell, you even had to get lunch with them – more like them getting lunch with you actually – while they showed you examples and made you listen to funny audios.

But you loved them, most of the time.

Except right now.

Right now, all you wanted was to relax. Well, relax as much as you could while working. You had your headphones on with some of your favourite songs playing and were looking at some pictures from the latest race as you had to choose which ones to post after having also edited several videos. You were in your little bubble, until Isack sat down in front of you. You tried your best to ignore him for the time being, but you could see from the corner of your eye that he was expecting you to interact with him.

Not removing your headphones, you decided to acknowledge him:

“Please, just give me ten minutes. I’m almost done with this, and then I’m all yours. Been on it for the past hour; I’m dehydrated and I have a headache, but I’ll be free for whatever silly trend you got. Just ten minutes, thanks Isack.”

It could’ve been considered rude from you to not even glance at him, but he understood. Not that you had seen or heard anything, but Isack nodded and told you that he would be back soon. You were focused on your task, and desperately needed to finish it before the next event of the weekend was to happen. You weren’t usually this dramatic, but you were more exhausted than usual because of the triple header, and were therefore more stressed to not fulfill your job within the deadlines.

After ten long minutes that felt like an hour, you were finally done with your editing. Pictures and videos had been posted; they featured both drivers, and all had a nice caption. You sighed as you leaned back on your chair, removing your headphones before putting them around your neck. You then noticed that Isack wasn’t here anymore, and wondered if you had been too mean to him.

Still, you took advantage of the calm and silence that echoed in the room. Everyone else was either downstairs or outside, and you found peace in the quiet around you as you closed your eyes.

Breathing in, and out. In, and out.

You were a bit less tense than earlier, and kept enjoying the silence until you heard someone approach as they seemingly put something on the table. Opening your eyes, you saw that Isack was sitting down once again in front of you.

“You’re back, good. Just five more minutes of peace, and we can film whatever you want.”

“It’s okay,” Isack replied. “This is for you, by the way.” He pointed to the glass on the table.

“Me?” You asked, straightening up and looking at him.

“Yeah, you said that you were dehydrated and had a headache. So I brought you a drink, and some painkillers.”

That’s when you noticed the blister pack next to the glass, and you couldn’t help the smile that appeared on your face. Immediately popping a pill into your mouth, you didn’t hesitate gulping down half of the drink right after. You let out a satisfied sigh, which made Isack chuckle.

“Better?” He wondered.

“Yeah, that will definitely help. Sorry about earlier,” you apologised. “Guess I got a bit grumpy, but I’m free for you if you wanna tell me about whatever trend you found.”

Isack dismissed your apology and told you it was fine, before he quickly got his phone out to open TikTok. His enthusiasm was contagious. Soon enough, you were back to your usual self and laughing at the video that Isack was showing you as you both discussed what your take would be for the team’s social media.

…..

You didn’t know what to expect when you accepted that Isack and Liam take control of the team’s socials for a day. You had only agreed to it after Isack kept reminding you how well the video of him pretending to be VCARB’s admin had done, and you had to admit that it had indeed been a popular video.

So here you were, shadowing the drivers for a while until you had to take a lunch break. For once, it was you who offered them to join you. But they politely refused your invitation, claiming that they wanted to film a couple more videos. So you let them do their thing, thinking that it was fine – especially when they kept saying that you would actually be able to rest while eating.

It wasn’t fine.

Well, it was at first.

Before going back to wherever Isack and Liam were in the paddock, you decided to check if they had posted anything since this morning. There were two new videos, crossposted on TikTok and Instagram: one was of them simply notifying the fans that they were taking over VCARB’s socials for the day – simple and efficient, you thought. The other video was already a bit chaotic compared to the first one: the two drivers had tried to sneak into every garage and pretend they were from that team before someone noticed that they were, in fact, absolutely not part of it.

You had to admit, they could come after your job as the videos already had a fair amount of likes and comments. People were clearly enjoying today’s content, and you were glad that they could indeed be trusted.

But of course, something had to go wrong.

After a quick text to your drivers, you found yourself in Isack’s driver room where they had been brainstorming more video ideas. When you opened the door, you saw that Liam was apparently filming something and you were about to apologise for interrupting when Isack noticed your presence.

“Hey!” The French said with excitement. His smile was bright, like a warm ray of sunshine. “Have you seen our videos? Our content is almost better than yours!”

“I did watch them both, yeah.” You nodded, before noticing that Liam had stopped recording and was now looking at his phone with a smirk on his face. “Did I interrupt anything?”

“No, you’re fine. In fact, you helped with something.” Liam was being kind of cryptic, as he put his phone back in his pocket.

“I did?” You wondered while tilting your head in confusion. You had simply entered a room, so you were a bit lost as to how you could have provided anything to his content. “What’s your video about?”

“You’ll know when I post it later”, Liam simply replied.

“Okay…” You were quite suspicious, but decided to trust him. “Can I help with anything else?” You asked them.

“Personally, I’m good. But I wouldn’t mind if you kept us company today,” Isack admitted. “Unless you have other things to do, of course.”

“Isack, you guys are literally doing my job right now. So no, I actually don’t have anything else to do.”

“That’s great, then. You can stay with us for the rest of the day”, Liam concluded.

And so until media day was over, you had followed your drivers around the paddock. They kept having crazy ideas after crazy ideas, and you couldn't help but laugh every time they had to do multiple takes due to one of them not being able to stay in character. This was probably one of the best work days you’ve ever had, and you almost wished that they would do this more often.

Keyword: almost.

Because of course, there had to be that eventual issue mentioned earlier.

Liam had been filming Isack doing whatever he was doing until the French driver tripped on his own feet and ended up face first in a wall. The sudden noise alarmed you, and you immediately rushed to Isack’s side as he was holding his head.

“Are you okay?” You asked, worry evident in your voice.

“I think I’m dying”, Isack dramatically replied.

You chuckled at what was definitely him overreacting. You forced Isack to sit down before you crouched down to his level, making him look up at you.

“Remove your hand, please.” Isack did as he was told, and you carefully inspected his head. “Where does it actually hurt?”

“Like– my forehead,” he said.

You nodded in understanding, and cupped his face to make him stay still – it was probably not even necessary as you being so close to him was almost making him stop breathing, and he didn’t dare make a move. You gently pushed his hair back from his forehead, looking for any kind of bruise as you stroked his skin to feel if any lump had appeared. You were so focused on your task, you didn’t even notice how flustered Isack was becoming with every second passing.

Liam, however, had very much noticed. And unbeknownst to you or Isack, he was absolutely enjoying the scene, still recording for God knows what reason. This was good content for the video idea he’d had since this morning, which he had slowly but surely been filming for throughout the day.

After a couple minutes, you finally released Isack’s face – he couldn’t decide whether it was a good thing or not, given that it had been messing with his heart a lot – and he was already missing the warmth of your hand on his cheek.

“All good”, you eventually concluded. “Might have a slight bump forming, but you’ll survive. You’re a strong guy, right Isack?”

“Y–yeah, of course. Thanks”, he could only reply due to how nervous you were making him.

“Pathetic…” Liam mumbled under his breath, unheard from you nor Isack.

Glad that Isack was fine, you straightened back up with a smile before offering him your hand. He hesitantly took it, and you then pulled him up so he could stand. Not expecting to end up so close to you once again, Isack quickly took a step back with the blush intensifying on his cheeks.

Liam was definitely having a field day, while you were completely oblivious to the effect you were having on the French driver.

“I wish I could trust you to keep playing social media alone, but I’m gonna have to review your next ideas before you start filming them and I’m being put on the spot.”

The drivers both nodded, understanding that you were simply worried about them – and about your job too. So for the rest of the day, you made a compromise with them: you would still give them creative liberty to film – almost – whatever they wanted, but you had the right to veto anything that could seem to eventually end up badly for one of them.

…..

A few hours later, media day was finally over. Isack and Liam had filmed three other videos, while you supervised them like a babysitter from afar. Although they had done most of the job, you still helped them edit their videos and confirmed to them that yes, their caption ideas were funny.

“Well, this was an interesting day for sure. But I don’t think we’ll do that again for a while,” you told the drivers when all their videos were posted.

“Sorry to have wasted your time”, Isack apologised.

“It wasn’t wasted,” you reassured him. “I just didn’t rest as much as you had promised me. But it was fun, I guess.”

“It was very fun, yes. Glad I was able to know more”, Liam said.

“About my job?” You wondered.

“Amongst other things”, Liam vaguely replied.

Although a bit confused at his words, you didn’t think much of it as you knew that Liam had enjoyed the day as well. He had harboured a satisfied grin for most of the afternoon, and you were glad to see it every time you would look at him. You wouldn’t be glad in the near future, but this was another story.

After checking that the team’s social media was doing fine, you announced to Isack and Liam that they were free to leave the track and go back to their hotel. You were actually all staying in the same one, which led to Isack suggesting that you all go back together before he also asked you if you wanted to join him – and Liam – for dinner. You hesitated a bit as it wasn’t really something you often did unless there were other VCARB employees going out with you, but Isack’s excited smile made it impossible to refuse.

…..

So now you were back in your hotel room, about to go downstairs after having changed from your team kit. You were strangely nervous, already picturing the worst that could happen. It wasn’t everyday that you were hanging out with your drivers off track – only the three of you – so you really hoped that the evening would go smoothly.

But once again, you had spoken too soon.

Courtesy of Liam who had apparently come down with a “last-minute stomachache”, you were now looking at your menu with only Isack sitting at the table with you. He had surprisingly dressed up a bit, and you wondered if the supposed stomachache had been planned between the two of them. But with the way that Isack was avoiding your gaze, his cheeks slightly flushed, you truly didn’t know what to think of the situation.

It looked just like a date.

You. And Isack. On a date.

And that’s not even the worst that would happen. The worst had happened right after you and Isack had ordered. The tension had lightened a bit after a waiter had come to your table, bursting the little bubble of nervousness that had surrounded you two. You were now patiently waiting for your food as you sipped your drink, when you heard your phone going off.

You were about to apologise to Isack for not muting it, when you saw what the notification was:

Post uploaded!

Furrowing your brows, it was safe to say that you were confused; because the account that was showing wasn’t your personal one. No, it was the team’s account. And that’s when you started panicking.

“Is everything alright?” Isack asked you, easily noticing your stress.

“Yeah, hmm… it’s just Instagram being weird,” you said. “I don’t know what happened.”

Just to make sure you hadn’t posted anything weird, like a wrongly scheduled video, you opened the application. Nothing had prepared you for the video that immediately played before your eyes. The editing was basic, but the caption was far from being a usual one: 30s compilation of isack having a crush on admin.

You watched the entire video with widened eyes, each clip showing a different version of Isack throughout the day. Your face wasn’t shown, but you recognised the moment from earlier in the afternoon when you were checking on Isack after he had bumped into a wall. He was looking up at you with flushed cheeks, his eyes filled with something you didn’t dare think about.

When the video finished, it automatically replayed and you could only rewatch those clips of Isack’s eyes glancing at you – his face lightening up when you had entered his driver’s room, his smile brightening as he talked about you.

You didn’t know what to think of it. And for a couple minutes, you had forgotten that Isack was actually sitting at the table across from you.

“Are you okay?” He worryingly asked. “Your face has gone a bit red.”

Of course your face had gone red! It wasn’t everyday that you had to see your driver look at you as if you were the prettiest girl in the world – Isack wouldn’t deny that, as if you were the only thing that made him wake up in the morning, the only person he was impatiently waiting to see at every race.

“I’m fine…” That was a lie. “I just think that a certain someone posted a video on the team’s account without consulting me first.”

“Liam?” Isack guessed. He unlocked his phone to go see it himself, and was met with his own face as he clicked on the video. “Oh mon Dieu, putain…”

Isack would definitely kill Liam for that. Setting him up on a date with you was one thing, but a public video that displayed his crush on you for the entire world to see? Isack wanted to die of embarrassment. His face had gone even redder than yours, and he didn’t dare look up from his phone. He was afraid to see your expression, afraid that you’d be mad about the situation.

But you weren’t.

After a few minutes of silence between you and him, you caught his attention.

“Isack”, you called out his name which made him nervously look at you.

“Wait! Before you say anything”, he interrupted. “I’m so sorry for this, I didn’t know Liam had planned that. And I’m also sorry for the dinner, he told me at the last minute that he wasn’t coming. I swear it wasn’t on purpose! And–”

“Isack, breathe!” You exclaimed as you saw him almost hyperventilating. You took his hands in yours, which made him go still for a second. “Calm down, it’s fine.” He raised an eyebrow at you, and you chuckled. “Okay, it could’ve been better. But it’s not the end of the world,” you tried to reassure him.

“Kinda feels like it is for me”, he argued. “Liam just outed my feelings on the team’s socials, out of all places.”

“I’ll admit that was a shit move.” You were definitely giving Liam a lecture tomorrow morning, and removing his access to the VCARB account until the end of time. “I’m actually going to take this down while I think about it,” you said as you quickly deleted the video before focusing back on Isack.

“I’m sorry, again.”

“If anyone should apologise, it’s Liam. You have nothing to be sorry about, unless it’s to tell me the video wasn’t telling the truth.”

“It is…” Isack tried to avoid your gaze once again. “And now it probably ruined our friendship, as well as our professional relationship.”

“It hasn’t, though.”

“Really?” He was confused, but it was kind of getting his hopes up. “You’re not weirded out by me liking you?”

“Nope”, you replied with a grin. “If anything, the video was actually cute.”

“Cute?” Isack repeated.

“Yes”, you confirmed with a nod. “You’re cute, Isack. Sorry I never noticed this until now. Well, I would be blond not to have actually noticed. But I never truly did, I guess”

“You’re cute too.”

“Well, I hope so given how you look at me.”

“You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

“Got it!” You chuckled and leaned back in your chair. “But there’s something we can do now.”

“What?”

“Liam expected something out of this, right?” When Isack nodded, you continued. “Let’s make it happen.”

“And it is…?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” You shrugged, a challenging expression making its way on your face. “Maybe you asking me on a real date, so tonight isn’t wasted. Or maybe it’s you being the one to confess instead of Liam doing it for you.”

“I didn't really ask for that to happen in the first place”, he reminded you. “But if you’re actually serious, then I’d love for tonight to be a real date. Let me make it better than how it started.”

“You’re on the right path, don’t worry.” From the corner of your eye, you could see your food finally arriving. “Here’s to our first date!” You said as you raised your glass towards Isack before taking a sip.

“Here’s to our first date”, he repeated with a nervous smile.

And thankfully, it wouldn’t be the last.

…..

The next day, you lectured Liam for at least ten minutes. His head hung low and he apologised countless times to you. You also forced him to apologise to Isack, as the French driver had been the most affected by Liam’s actions. Luckily for him, he was saved by his engineer calling him for FP1 as it would be starting soon and so you had no choice but to let him go.

“It did work, though. Right?” Liam asked with a smirk right as he stood in the doorway.

“Get out Liam”, you only replied. “You’re on thin ice right now, and your social media privileges have been revoked for an undetermined period of time.”

“I know. But being so defensive means that it worked!” He quickly concluded before leaving you and Isack alone.

“He’s not wrong…” Isack smiled at you.

“Doesn’t mean I wanted to admit it to him”, you argued. “But yes, it did help speed up things between us.”

“You know, I would’ve still confessed even without Liam. Maybe not before months,” he admitted, “but I was planning on us becoming closer friends before that.”

“And what would’ve made you confess?” You were now definitely curious about it.

“I wish I could’ve gotten a podium first,” he explained. “I only have points as an achievement right now.”

“That’s enough for me, don’t worry.” You quickly looked at the time, realising how late it was getting. “You better go join Liam by the way, I don’t want to be fired for keeping you away from your job.”

“I would vouch for you, don’t worry. You’re the best admin we could have”, Isack claimed.

“You’re just saying that because I make you look good on our socials.”

“But you think I look good off socials too, right?”

“Get out, Isack.” Your tone was teasing, and your cheeks a bit flushed. “Go drive your little car and let me do my job in peace.”

“Okay, okay!” He raised his hands in defence, before he left his room.

Now that you were alone, your only reaction was to put your head in your hands. You could only giggle as you remembered what had happened from yesterday to just a few seconds ago.

You were just a girl after all.

But right now, you were definitely a happier girl than ever.

…..

You didn’t think that you would see Liam and Isack still in the garage by the time you finally left Isack’s room – it had taken you a dozen minutes alone before you felt comfortable to go out, but they were talking with some engineers while half of the drivers were already on track for FP1.

Taking advantage of the moment, you called out their names and they walked to where you were in between their garages.

“Okay guys, quick picture time if you don’t mind.”

“Both of us or separately?” Liam asked.

“Let’s do three pictures: two individuals and one of you together”, you decided. “I’ll see what I eventually post later.”

The drivers nodded and waited for your directions.

“Do we do anything special or…?” Isack wondered.

“Just stand there and look pretty,” you said without thinking. “Won’t be too hard for you.”

While Isack blushed at your words, Liam’s face was making an exaggerated and disgusted expression.

“I know it’s thanks to me that y’all are finally together, but please refrain from flirting in front of me.”

“That wasn’t flirting!” You tried to argue. “And we’re not even together…”

“Yet,” Isack pointed out.

“You’re not helping,” you told Isack with what you hoped was a stern glare. You sighed and tried to remain professional. “Just smile and give me some thumbs up, please.”

Taking a few pictures of them together first, you then let them go to their respective side of the garage so that they could gear up and get in their car. You took that as an opportunity to take individual pictures of them, starting with Liam.

“You know,” he caught your attention, “I’m actually happy for you two. And I’m sorry again for making it chaotic, but I’m glad y’all can make it work.”

“Thanks, Liam.” Your smile was genuine, and you knew Liam had only wanted to help. “Next time, let’s have private conversations instead of using the public internet.”

“Copy.”

You both exchanged one last smile, before you walked to Isack’s garage as he was about to put on his helmet.

“Wish me luck?” He asked, holding his helmet next to his face while he smiled for a picture.

“It’s FP1, Isack. I’m sure you can manage without me blessing your car.”

“But what if I crash and it’s because you haven’t wished me luck?” Isack was being dramatic, his voice teasing.

“Please don’t joke about that,” a mechanic said. “And definitely don’t crash on purpose to get your girlfriend’s attention.”

“Not his girlfriend”, you mumbled with a faint blush on your cheeks.

“Yet”, Isack said in reference to earlier.

“Get in the car, Isack.” You sighed as you took one last picture before he secured his helmet. You waited for him to get in the car before you spoke again. “Good luck.”

Isack’s head turned so quickly towards where you were, it almost seemed like his neck could’ve snapped. Only his eyes were showing, but you could see in the way Isack looked at you that he was grinning. Your expression was soft, which made Isack almost want to get out of the car and kiss the smile that had appeared on your face.

…..

And he would eventually do so, after getting his first F1 podium. Not wasting any time as soon as he would reach parc fermé, Isack would get out of his car so quickly that you would barely have time to realise that he was in front of you. He would hug you tightly, while everyone cheered around you. He would then struggle to remove his helmet, having only one goal.

And when he would finally succeed, Isack would drop his helmet to the ground without a care and he would get as close to you as the barrier between the two of you let him do so. And this time, his arms wouldn’t be around you; because his hands would reach for your face, cupping your cheeks and pulling you close to him as his lips kissed yours.

Isack wouldn’t give a damn about the podium, or the trophy. Because you were his prize.

In this moment, you would forget about the video of Isack that you were filming. You wouldn’t be VCARB’s social media admin anymore, you would simply be Isack Hadjar’s girlfriend. And for once, you wouldn’t mind being the one in front of the camera.

..........

Tagging the lovely people who expressed a wish to read this, thanks to y'all for motivating me to finish it: @fellowwomenlover @mrssaturday @boke---hinata---boke

HOPE Y'ALL ENJOYED🫶🏻🫶🏻

Kudos again to my bestie who's fr my soulmate bc she literally complimented on the exact thing i had been unsure of (without even knowing i had struggled w that)

Really manifesting an isack podium soon bc pookie is doing so well recently and ik he's on the right path to perform even better🕯🕯

I also wanna say that we've reached 400 followers and it feels absolutely insane, so tysm for supporting me and my silly lil fics🫂

See you soon, take care of yourselves, i love y'all xx

[rcmclachlan]

The Least Vulnerable Spot 8x16 spec fic

In which I ask the ultimate questions: under what circumstances would Tommy not attend the memorial procession for Bobby? Also, how silly can I make this?

+

Buck has never considered himself to be that guy, but when a man hands you the viral antidote he stole for you, kisses you on a rooftop backlit by the sunset while a couple of Sikorsky UH-60s hover threateningly, and whispers "Here's looking at you, kid" before ushering you through the rooftop door so you can save your family while a bunch of stone-faced Army guys advance, you tend to have an expectation or two. Like, that he'll pick up his fucking phone when you call. 

He's left so many voicemails and sent so many texts to Tommy's phone over the last four days that he's pretty sure Verizon has his account flagged, but he thinks Petrea, his account rep, would understand if he explained that his ex-but-maybe-not-ex-boyfriend flew in like a superhero and then ghosted him when Buck needed him the most. She might even dig up a Jilted Before Your Father Figure's Funeral discount for his troubles. 

It's been a week since they held the procession for Bobby, and not even Buck showing up at Tommy's house the night before and pounding on the door for an hour while shouting that he was yellow-bellied (partly true), a traitor to the 118 name (mostly true), and a lousy lay (bold-faced lie) could make the little coward show his face. 

So he's done. He is finished with Tommy Kinard and his massive amounts of baggage that would make even Briggs & Riley close up shop, and he's proving it by leaving one final voicemail that isn't influenced by his sadness over Bobby's death, the stress of the last couple of weeks, or by how much Tommy's abandonment has hurt him. He's going to be a rational adult about this. He's going to be the bigger person.

".... This is all to say that I hope you have an amazing life, Tommy," he says into his phone speaker. "I hope it's filled with love and support, and it's meaningful and fulfills your soul. And I hope you fall in love with a beautiful, kind man who treats you right, and I hope you get married and stay together for fifty blissful years, and then I hope you wake up from the coma to realize it was all a dream and you're all alone, because apparently that's what you really want! And I know you were quoting a movie on the rooftop, and you know what? I'm not going to even look up which movie it was! Look at me, kid, or whatever it was you said!"

Buck misses the days when he could snap his phone shut to hang up, because stabbing end call twenty times until his finger actually taps the button just doesn't give him the same kind of satisfaction. 

Panting for a moment, he pushes all his anger and pain into a little lockbox in the back of his mind, shuts the lid, and takes a breath. Then he pockets his phone and looks up to find everyone in the station frozen, staring at him like he just performed a magic trick or saw a bug on the wall and didn't identify it out loud.

"What?!" he snaps at all of their slack-jawed faces. "Never seen a rational adult before?"

Out of nowhere, a hand lands on his shoulder like a jump scare, and he startles back so hard he almost throws an elbow into Acting Captain Henrietta Wilson's wrinkled nose.

"Hey, Buckaroo," Hen coos. The expression on her face would be more at home on someone who's been tasked with single handedly cleaning up a nuclear meltdown. "Maybe we should put our phones in our lockers so we're not distracted by our very confusing situationships. At least until lunch time when I can escape to Rosetti's to get a break from it."

Buck doesn't whine and he definitely doesn't stamp his feet. "Yeah, but what if he calls?" 

"You know, he probably would just to tell you the quote is actually Here's looking at you, kid," Hen admits. 

"I don't get it. Who's looking at me?" Buck mutters, giving his phone the stink eye before looking up. "What are you doing out here? I thought you were doing paperwork."

Hen shrugs with her entire face. "Well, I was, but when you started wailing I thought another raccoon got caught in the vent fan again, so."

For someone who got the job under the worst set of circumstances imaginable, she looks completely at home in the role, the way she always does. Buck's trying like hell to be happy for her, and he is, deep deep deep down, but he'll be the first to admit he hasn't been handling it well. Yesterday she'd brought in a tiny potted succulent and put it in the upper left corner of what was now her desk where a framed photo of Athena, May, and Harry once sat, and Buck accidentally knocked it onto the floor. And accidentally stepped on it. Twice. Accidentally.

She'd stared at him until he started to sweat, then said flatly, "You're buying me two more."

"Yep," he'd agreed. There's now a bigger succulent on the desk and a bushy lemon lime maranta on the windowsill. 

Whatever she sees on his face makes her roll her eyes, but she puts her hand on his shoulder again and says, "Okay. You get thirty seconds. Lay it on me."

Buck blinks. "Really?"

"Twenty-nine now," Hen says.

Damn, that's generous. Eddie only gave him ten before he tapped out. 

Squaring his shoulders, Buck lets it all come tumbling out: "I thought this meant something! He threw in with us again and kissed me on the roof and said whatever he said and it was supposed to mean something! You don't just bail after that! He was supposed to be here! He was supposed to support me at the funeral! He was supposed to be there for me at the procession and then fuck the sadness out of me afterward! I had a plug in and everything!"

"Time's up," Hen breaks in, a look of abject horror on her face. 

Buck throws his hands up. "That had to only be twenty seconds at most."

Hen's eyes dart down to his hips, then back up to his face. Her glasses magnify them, so they look bigger and wider than usual. She looks like one of those Precious Moments figurines his mom used to collect. "You had a—Buck, that procession went for a full mile."

"Believe me," Buck grumbles, shifting to try and escape the chafed ache that refuses to go away. "I'm well aware. Serves me right for going with the biggest one I own, but, like, I thought Tommy was gonna—"

"Aaaand we're done." Hen executes a perfect about-face and marches in the direction of the admin offices. 

Buck calls after her, "Bobby would've heard me out!"

"Bobby would've jammed pencils in his ears!" Hen shouts over her shoulder. "Which is exactly what I'm about to do!"

This is exactly what he means when he tells Dr. Copeland that no one ever listens to him. 

He's about to go see if he can corner Chimney somewhere with limited escape routes when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. His heart gets caught up in a dizzying storm of excitement, dread, and grim satisfaction, because he knew Tommy wouldn't be able to deal with the idea of Buck not looking the quote up.

But when he takes his phone out of his pocket, the incoming call isn't from Jaw of Gibraltar ❤️, but Lucy Donato.

Sighing, he takes the call. "Uh, h-hey Lucy—"

She cuts him off immediately with a curt, "Look, don't think I'm not grateful or anything. We all are. Not being forced to listen to sad James Ingram songs day in and day out has been wonderful, but it's been two weeks already and we need our lead pilot back."

"I—what? Lucy, I hate to tell you, but—"

"Tell me precisely zero details about how dick drunk you are, Buckley," Lucy says flatly. "Just tell me when you're letting him go. Cap's getting antsy and Baxter's been on call for so long that his wife is ready to kill him and turn his body into mulch."

Buck stares at Engine 2 until it blurs. "You... are talking about Tommy, right?"

"No, I'm talking about the other dipshit I work with who committed domestic terrorism because your asshole is a Disneyland attraction." Buck makes a face but doesn't correct her. Tommy once likened sex with Buck to riding Big Thunder Mountain for the first time. "He's missed like four shifts. Any more and Cap is gonna have to, like, make some calls. Where the fuck's our pilot, Buckley?"

"He hasn't been in at all?" He echoes faintly, a sinkhole opening in his gut. 

Lucy makes a sound of disgust. "Frankly, I can't believe they dropped your charges. You're way too dangerous to be allowed among the general populace."

The Army colonel who swanned into Chim's hospital room like he expected them to scatter like roaches had taken one look at all of them and scoffed. "Every fiber of my being hates what I'm about to say, but I can't handle another phone call from Sergeant Grant, so: on behalf of the United States government, we're dropping all federal charges for everyone in this room. If I see any of you ever again, I will throw you into a hole so deep it'll make the Kola Borehole look like something a kid dug at the beach."

Except not everyone was in the hospital room that day.

Buck squeezes his eyes shut. "Hey, so I need to call you back."

"Wait, Dana wants to talk to you."

With a yelp of pure terror, Buck stabs his phone until the call ends, then immediately calls Jaw of Gibraltar ❤️. It goes right to voicemail, like it's been doing, and now Buck is pretty sure he knows why.

"Heeeeeeeey," he says through a grimace. "So, uh, I need you to ignore all the other voicemails and texts I sent you. Um, it's entirely possible the reason you haven't been picking up my calls might be, uh, sort of my fault, but just think: someday when we've been married for fifty years, we'll probably still be laughing about this whole thing."

Inbox full, the automated voice cheerfully tells him.

Cringing, he calls Athena.

+

Buck has never actually seen a federal prison—Jamestown was a regular prison, and he didn't have enough time to stop and take it all in—so he's not sure what to expect, but when they fly over Victorville Medium-Security Federal Correctional Institute, he's surprised to see it looks more like an army base than anything. 

The pilot who picked him, Athena, and LAFD union lawyer Bernadette Kaine up from Harbor One—and that had sucked, because the entire Harbor crew was standing on the tarmac giving him the evil eye as he boarded, and while Dana didn't physically drag her thumb across her throat he could see the same sentiment in her blank expression—didn't actually introduce himself, but his name was embroidered on the arm of his flight suit. 

"Your last name is 'Goodenough'?" Buck had asked, grinning. "'Pilot Goodenough'? Hopefully your flying is a lot better than your name suggests!"

Pilot Goodenough stared stone-faced out the windshield and said, "We might hit turbulence during the flight."

And they did, but oddly only whenever Buck unbuckled his belt. The last time Buck went to get up, Athena threatened to shoot him.

When they land, Colonel Whatshisname is there to greet them, and he looks both exhausted and furious to see him and Athena again. 

"Sergeant Grant," the colonel acknowledges through gritted teeth, ignoring Buck entirely. "It's such a pleasure to see you again."  

Athena simply crosses her arms and stares him down, which is impressive to watch, considering the guy's like 6'7". He's shriveling under her scrutiny before Buck's very eyes. 

"Colonel, it appears you forgot something," Athena says, lightly and terrifyingly.

"Someone," Buck interjects, with nowhere near the same impact.

Colonel Whatshisname sighs, looks heavenward at the departing helicopter as though he'd like nothing more than to flag Pilot Goodenough back down to take him away, then beckons them all inside.

When they get to whoever's office the colonel commandeered, Buck is almost completely distracted from why they're there by the sheer amount of rubber ducks that clutter up every flat surface in the room. No two are the same. There's even a little viking duck, complete with a mace. 

"Can I—" Buck starts slowly, inching his hand toward a duck that looks like a firefighter.

Colonel Whatshisname sits down at the desk, hard. "No."

"That's fair."

"Colonel Spade," Bernadette begins, opening her worryingly bulging briefcase. "I'd like to begin by thanking you for your ti—"

"Colonel, you know why we're here," Athena cuts in, taking the seat on the other side of the colonel's desk. She has to clear a path through all the ducks lined up at the edge so she can rest her clasped hands there. "When the charges were dropped for the members of the 118 involved in the incident, LAFD pilot Thomas Kinard's charges should have been included."

At that, Buck moves to stand menacingly at her shoulder like an attack dog, although the colonel doesn't look all that impressed at the display. If anything, he gets a look on his face like he'd just swallowed an assassin bug. Specifically a North American wheel bug. 

"Normally, I would agree with you, but Thomas Kinard abused his military rank and previous clearance to gain access to a secure government building, steal proprietary assets from a lab that could have caused great harm to the population of Los Angeles, and physically assaulted personnel on his way out," Colonel Spade snaps at her. "There was no way we were letting any of that go."

"Assaulted?" Athena lifts a brow. 

"That's awful," Buck rasps, pressing his thighs together. "Like, how many people and what did he do to them? Like, were there concussions? Broken bones? You can go into detail, I'm not squeamish."

The thought of Tommy fighting his way to get to Buck is so disgustingly hot that he might pop a woody in front of Athena, their lawyer lady, a visibly upset military man, and three thousand ducks. Still not the worst place he's ever been turned on.

"Without Kinard, we never would've gotten the antidote in time to save all those people," Athena says, and yanks her chair forward a little, away from Buck. "The people you deemed collateral damage in the fallout of the release of the CCHF virus."

"No one could have predicted Dr. Blake would go rogue," Colonel Spade says easily, with hate in his eyes. "This is hardly the fault of the—"

Suddenly, Bernadette sits up, and it feels like someone's put a spotlight on her. Buck kind of expects her to break into song or something, but what happens is actually so much better.

"The day Dr. Blake stole the virus, her employment was terminated, effective immediately, and yet security didn't walk her out of the building, which goes against all federal mandated safety protocols," Bernadette says, all smiles, practically glowing. "The lab—property of the U.S. government, if I remember correctly—was entirely unsupervised, which gave Dr. Blake the unfettered opportunity to tamper with the virus, speeding up its incubation period without authorization. Or, perhaps she did have authorization and the government failed to disclose this. Tell me, what else is going on under our noses that the government isn't telling us?"

"Try to disappear the brave people who risk their lives to do the right thing, apparently," Athena answers pointedly. 

"I thought you were a union lawyer," Colonel Spade says through a visibly clenched jaw. "What do you know about federal pharmaceutical law?"

Bernadette's smile goes sharp. "I dabble."

Colonel Spade looks, for lack of a better word, murderous. He's probably one smarmy comment from grabbing the nearest rubber duck and bludgeoning Bernadette to death with it.

But Buck has never been able to help himself. "Is this a bad time to mention my ex-girlfriend is an investigative reporter?"

Athena drops her head into her hand. "Buck."

"I'm just saying!" He crosses his arms, trying to puff himself up the way some animals do when they're faced with a predator. "It sure would be a shame if an anonymous tip about all this landed in her lap."

Colonel Spade squints at him. "Are you threatening me, Firefighter Buckley?"

"You're trying to bury Tommy to save your own ass," Buck growls. "Yes, I'm threatening you."

Wordlessly, Bernadette reaches into her briefcase, which looks like it's seriously ready to bust open at the seams, and slides over a packet of paper to Colonel Spade. The colonel snatches it up and starts reading, and the longer he does, the paler he gets.

Finally, he lowers the packet and stabs Bernadette with his eyes. "Where did you get this?"

"I play mahjong with your ex-wife every Sunday," Bernadette says, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "She sends her regards. Well, she actually sent the tip of her blackmail iceberg. How is your new wife, by the way? She graduate from college yet?"

Eyes wide, Buck looks at the colonel, who's got the swallowing wheel bugs look on his face again.

After the most awkward ten seconds that Buck's had to endure since Eddie crashed his and Tommy's pizza date, the colonel folds like a bad row of mahjong tiles.

"Fine," he says with a sigh, then glares at Bernadette. "And no, she's a junior."

Buck picks up a rubber duck with sharp teeth like a vampire. "Gross."

+

The colonel washes his hands of them by pushing them onto two enormous guards named Weekes and Kluger, who are basically human trees. 

When Kluger gets his orders to take them to cell 58, he droops like a wilting plant. "Hey, you're not here to, like, take Kinard to Gitmo, right? It's just—he's really cool. He's got the wildest stories."

"Dude figured out what was wrong with my car just from listening to a video on my phone." Weekes grins, then leans in to whisper conspiratorially to Buck, "it was the alternator."

"I offered to introduce him to my sister," Kluger says as they board the elevator, and he's either oblivious to Buck's glare searing a hole in his head or is just flat-out ignoring it, because he continues blithely, "but he said he doesn't like girls. Which is cool. I'm down with the rainbow, you know? So I told him about my cousin, Martin."

Buck makes a politely interested noise, but it mostly sounds like he's biting straight through his tongue. Athena elbows him hard enough to bruise his spleen.

"And what did he have to say about Martin?" Buck asks. Meanwhile, every bone in his body is vibrating at a frequency only dogs can hear.

Kluger doesn't seem to be aware that the head is going to burst into flames any second now. "He said he was flattered and that Martin was hot, but he's already got his heart pinned on someone on the outside."

Buck relaxes with a pleased smile.

"Yeah, except whoever it is left him in here to rot," Weekes adds.

"T-That's unnecessary and completely untrue," Buck lies, trying to sink into the floor so he won't drown in shame right in front of them. 

Thankfully, the elevator comes to a stop at the 5th floor, and Buck pushes his way out to gulp some fresh air. 

He's not sure if being on the 5th floor is a good or bad thing. Tommy was charged with domestic terrorism; what if this is the domestic terrorism floor? What if he's neighbors with neo-nazis? What if he'd been jumped by a faction in the shower and took a beating and has spent the last few days pissing blood and breathing through broken ribs and cursing the day he ever picked up Chimney's call about needing a pilot for an unauthorized rescue? 

What if he regrets ever meeting Buck?

But before Buck can ask Kluger for a bucket to throw up in, they come to a stop in front of a cell marked with the number 58, and Buck forces himself to look inside.

Apparently the question Buck should've been asking was what if Tommy's lying on his bed playing paddle ball while he mouths along to whatever 80s hip-hop song is playing on a little radio? Because that's exactly what Tommy's doing.

"I gave him the radio," Weekes says proudly, reaching out to knock on the glass door. Tommy looks up without pausing his game. The ball keeps thwacking against the wood.

"He's so good at that," Kluger says, starry-eyed. "He beat Officer Amino last week and that guy's won tournaments."

"Is it Girl Scout cookie season already?" Tommy asks cheerfully, then effortlessly twists the paddle so the cord wraps around it. He tucks the ball in. "Sorry, I don't have my wallet on me."

Buck shoves Kluger aside to practically press his nose to the glass. "We take IOUs."

As soon as he sees Buck, Tommy brightens, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stands, stretching with a groan, and then walks over to the door. Even in the bland blue jumpsuit, he's stupid hot. Helplessly, Buck puts his palm against the glass.

"Nice of you to stop by," Tommy says with a teasing lilt, pressing his own palm to Buck's, and Buck swears he can feel the heat of it through the pane. 

"I was in the neighborhood," Buck teases back. "Figured I'd pop in."

"I won't lie, I've been dreaming about you showing up for a conjugal visit." Tommy looks away from Buck's face to squint at everyone else. "Although you guys weren't there."

At that, Athena cracks a smile and says in an odd voice, almost twangy, "You stupid mullet head, he beat you with nothin'."

Tommy perks up and doesn't miss a bit, drawling, "Yeah, well, sometimes nothin' can be a real cool hand."

Before Buck can ask what the hell they're talking about, someone shoves him aside with surprising strength. He's a little surprised to see it's Bernadette, who he kind of forgot about, but she's clearly the only one who remembers why they're here because she raps on the glass and says, "Mr. Kinard, my name is Bernadette Kaine and I'm here to take you home."

"We're here to take you home," Buck amends. 

Tommy looks at Bernadette for a long moment, head tilting like a puppy hearing a noise for the first time and gaze narrowed, and then snaps his fingers. "Hey, I know you! I sent my paperwork to you the last time I stole a helicopter."

Sighing, Bernadette nods. "If you do it a third time, I get a free sundae."

"What do I get?" Tommy asks.

"Permanent incarceration and possibly the death penalty."

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Tommy mulls that one over, then gives a decisive nod. "Sounds about right."

+

The helicopter ride home is spent mostly with Buck plastered to Tommy's side while he fills him in on everything he missed. Tommy's devastated to hear about Bobby. He offers Athena his condolences over the open mic, then curls his hand around his headset speaker to murmur apologies into Buck's ear. 

"I wish I'd been there for you," Tommy says, and the words ease some kinked cable inside Buck he hadn't known was there. "I'm sorry I wasn't."

"I'm sorry I forgot there were consequences to your actions and left you to the mercy of the Army," Buck says, pressing his forehead to the jut of Tommy's jaw. "I just assumed everything was taken care of, and I… kind of thought you were ghosting me."

At that, Tommy snorts, wrapping an arm around Buck to hold him impossibly closer. "Evan, come on. You don't kiss a man like that and quote Humphrey Bogart and then ghost him. I'm an asshole and a coward, but I'm not a monster."

Buck winces. "Uh, yeah, when you have a second, can I see your phone?"

"What for?"

"It's better if you don't know," Buck says. "Completely unrelated, but you don't have a code for your voicemail, do you, and if so, can I have it?"

Tommy snickers and presses a kiss to Buck's temple. "How bad did it get?"

"Well, I taught Chim the word 'motherfuckface', so you tell me," Buck admits, cracking a grin when Tommy laughs out loud, but he has a hell of a time trying to keep it up. Finally, he gives up the ghost and tucks his face against Tommy's, eyes prickling hot with guilt. "I'm so sorry. I should've known. I should've known. Never in a million years would you have bailed on the funeral. It should've been my first clue that something was wrong."

Tommy snugs him in close and says quietly, barely audible over the rotors, "To quote an incredible man who drives me up the wall: 'it seems there's a lot we don't know about each other.' I'm glad you know I wouldn't have left you in the lurch like that, but there's a lot more… there's a lot more about me that you should know. That I… well, not exactly want you to know, but that I will tell you. Willingly. Well, not exactly willingly, but—"

"Y-Yeah?" Sniffling a little, Buck pulls away just enough to be able to look up at him. "What are you doing Saturday?"

It wins him a smile. "Vivisecting myself for you, apparently. And maybe burgers afterwards?"

Grinning, Buck snuggles shamelessly back in. "Actually, I wanted to make Bobby's famous lasagna for you. I think I've finally nailed it down. Then you can nail me down."

But before Tommy can respond, Athena breaks in over the line and takes a baseball bat to the moment. "Change the subject. Now."

Swallowing hard, Buck nods and pastes on a smile that doesn't scream 'I'm chubbed up a little in my jeans and I'm trying not to make it everyone's problem.' He coughs a little. "So, uh, who's Humphrey Bogart? Does he have a podcast or something?"

Tommy turns to Athena. "Actually, thanks, but no thanks. Take me back to prison."

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

i am sick rn ;((((( so how about pure vanilla and shadow milk (separately) taking care of a sick reader? i need my silly lil guys doing their best (or worst LMAO) to take care of their beloved -galaxy

Here you go! Hope you feel better soon :(

.....

Pure Vanilla

As a healer, it's only natural that he's the first cookie you called when you started feeling under the weather.

You're certain that you caught a cold from the snowy mountains of Dark Cacao Kingdom while accompanying him to a meeting a few days ago, as your doughy body hasn't stopped shaking since your return despite all attempts to warm yourself up.

Today, you woke up feeling achy all over, barely able to finish your tasks around the kingdom without becoming dizzy or getting sudden chills.

So you've put on bedrest until you feel well, asking one of the bluebirds to send PV a message.

Within the hour, he shows up at your place, bringing some good natural remedies to your bedside.

He also brought some hot jelly soup for when/if you feel like you could eat something light.

While his healing magic mainly extends to injuries, it's able to relieve the aches that plagued your dough.

But he discourages you from jumping up right away, as it took time to work.

Even though you think he's worrying too much over your simple cold, PV admits that he felt partially responsible for getting you sick because he asked you to attend the meeting in the first place.

You tell him that's not true, as you wanted to go and he couldn't have possibly predicted the weather that day. You promise him that you'll recover in no time, and you thank him for being here.

That cheers him up, as he promises to stay with you until you're well enough to move around, assuring you that whatever tasks you had could wait.

Shadow Milk

Despite being an inhabitant of Beast Yeast for years, you weren't familiar with the weather patterns within the Land of Spice...

Until Shadow Milk dragged you into his fellow Beast's domain at the peak of a spice storm one day.

He only wanted to annoy Burning Spice, although after you kept sneezing nonstop during their banter and being the one who annoyed him instead, the jester pouted and decided to warp back to his Spire with you.

Unfortunately, the storm made you terribly sick, with your eyes constantly burning and your throat feeling scratchy.

Shadow Milk only realizes something MIGHT be wrong with you when you refused to come out of your chambers that evening.

He invites himself inside and sees the sorry state you're in, laying in bed with spice particles in your dough and your toppings looking like they're gonna melt at any moment.

He doesn't understand why you're pouting and blaming him for dragging you out into that storm.

He even starts whining like "so you hate me now???? you want me to leave??????"

When you deny that and tell him he can stay, he's suddenly all smiles like "hehe I was gonna stay whether you wanted me to or not, doll. You're gonna have to depend on me now! But then again....you always have, and you always will~"

Sinister undertones aside, he's actually genuinely concerned for your health, taking care of you in-between his duties within the Spire.

He shapeshifts into a doctor/nurse persona, looking up cures for spice-related sicknesses and speaking in medical jargon the whole time he's with you.

He'd gather natural remedies and medicines out in the town no problem, demanding them from every vendor/storekeeper--and of course they listen.

After all, those same folks would gladly give him their left arm in exchange for a comforting lie.

You didn't mind playing the patient role, and you don't question how or where he got all those remedies, as you recover pretty quickly.

He definitely wouldn't dote on Black Sapphire or Candy Apple like this if they ever got sick, so you considered yourself very lucky.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 5] Food Difficulties

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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Warnings: Puking

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna is practically forcing food down your throat, ensuring that you’re eating and keeping his baby healthy. He’s convinced that you’re expecting twins, but he’s not going to get his hopes up in case that you aren’t. It has to be twins though, the amount of cursed energy that your body transmits is too much for just one baby.

“The food is good, is it not? Finish it.” Sukuna urges you, but you can’t stomach the entire meal. You’re nauseous, the mere smell of the food makes you want to puke. You’ve gotten overly sensitive the past few weeks, eating has become one of the hardest tasks for you.

Sukuna has gone from ignoring you, to coddling you in his own weird way. He’ll get you almost anything you’d like, but he makes sure he’s mean to you when he does it. He won’t show you a weaker side of him– At least that’s what he considers kindness, the weaker side of humans. 

“I’m full.” You tell him, but he’s having none of it. He won’t let you leave the room until you eat every last drop of food that’s on your plate. He’s ensuring that you’re growing healthy babies, and that can’t happen if your belly isn’t full of food.

“You have to eat.” He insists, and you can’t bring yourself to open your mouth. You can’t even bring yourself to swallow the food that you chew, you want to throw it all up. He sees you gagging, about to puke all the food that he’s forced you to eat. The food can’t be that bad, could it?

He brings the bowl up to his nose, trying to figure out if something is wrong with the meal. Sure, he tasted it to make sure everything was okay with it, but he held his nose to not taste it. Sukuna can’t stand many things, human food being at the top of his list. He can’t stand the taste, the texture, or even the mere smell of it.

He can’t force you to eat the foods he enjoys, so he guesses he’ll put himself through this pain to get you to finish your meal. He takes a mouthful of the food, and forces himself to chew. He gags as he tastes it. He can’t blame you for not wanting to eat it.

“It should be up to your standards.” Sukuna spits out the food onto the floor, not having the will to swallow it. “You have to make a healthy, strong child.”

“If I continue to eat, I’ll throw it all back up.” You warn him, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. He’ll choose his battles wisely. Uraume told him to be more gentle with you and to listen to you more… He guesses he’ll take their advice. 

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” He finally puts down the utensils, and you let out a sigh of relief. You push the plate of food away from you so the smell doesn’t hit your nostrils. You’re more sensitive than you expected. You’ve dealt with pregnant women before, and you knew that they would get nauseous around certain foods, but never quite like this. Perhaps you’re a special case, which wouldn’t be shocking since Sukuna is everything but normal.

“What do you want to do then?” Sukuna crosses his arms, staring you down. The stare that once made a chill run down your spine, no longer has much of an effect on you. It’s been two weeks since you found out that you’re expecting, and you’ve found out that Sukuna won’t dare to lay a finger on you unless it’s to make your life easier.

“I’ve been reading a book.” You tell him, and he raises his brows. What is that supposed to tell him? It seems that forcing you how to read and write has proven to be useful. It entertains you and Sukuna isn’t forced to do some mundane task in order to keep an eye on you. Sure, he misses action and adrenaline from doing his own vile activities, but in your state, he doubts you can handle watching it.

“So what? Are you staying inside and doing that?” He asks, and you nod in response. He almost scolds you, he wants to hear you use your voice, but he decides against it. You do whatever the fuck you want to do, who is he to say otherwise? Your dumb husband. Sukuna will let you do whatever you want, and treat you higher than himself for as long as you carry his heir.

“I can read out loud so you’re not bored.” You say, and he glares at you. You must be trying to make a fool out of him or something. He keeps repeating in his mind that he won’t yell at you. You’re expecting, he won’t distress you.

“You barely know how to read, keep it to yourself.” He snarks, and you hate to admit it but the comment hurts your feelings. You’re used to his attitude, but your kindness being used to mock you hurts. Perhaps you’re a little sensitive, especially since you know Sukuna– He treats you like a fragile petal, a treatment no one else will ever receive from him.

“I wouldn’t like to read to a grump anyway.” You retort, standing up to walk away but Sukuna grabs you and puts you down on his lap. He stares down at you, pure annoyance in his eyes.

“What did I teach you?” Sukuna snarls, and you purse your lips together. You’ve been getting away with a lot, so it shocks you that he reprimands you for something so simple… Perhaps it’s your insult that’s sent him over the edge. 

“I follow you after you leave the table, not the other way around.” You murmur, and you hear him scoff. Your response is correct, your delivery doesn’t delight him though. 

“You’ve gotten bratty.” He points out, and in response you dare to roll your eyes. You know you hold something massive over his head, therefore he won’t do anything to you no matter your reaction. He lets go of you, nearly pushing you off his lap, “Go away and read your dumb book. I’ll join you soon.”

“Just stay here, what are you going to do there?” You ask, standing up once again to walk away. Sukuna doesn’t answer, he doesn’t need to. Sure, you’re his wife but he made it clear that you wouldn’t have any sort of control over him. It was something to make you fulfill your duty. 

He hears your footsteps as you exit the room, leaving him alone to sink into his annoyance. Annoyance that a group of people will pay for later. Because his feelings don’t just disappear when he’s by your side, he’s still temperamental; the only change is that you don’t pay for your actions, someone else does.

Sukuna guesses you could be acting worse, so he can’t get too upset with you.

He stands up, and walks out of the room to follow behind you. Soon, he won’t be following you but after a miniature version of himself. His heir. The day could not come sooner. He’ll go back to being able to do whatever he wants, and bringing his heir along to witness his atrocious acts. But for all of that to happen, he must put up with you first. 

He picked you for a reason, he can deal with you. Perhaps he’s a little lost on how to get you to eat, but he can deal with the rest.

“Sukuna.” You walk out of your room to find Sukuna leaning against the tatami door. He’s shutting his eyes, for the first time ever you’re watching him fall asleep. In your mind, Sukuna never rests.

When you wake up in the middle of the night, he’s there, watching you sleep. A looming gaze watching over you during the dead of night. A sight so scary that it sends shivers down someone’s spine, bearing them unable to move. A sight that you’ve grown accustomed to.

You shouldn’t bother him when he’s falling asleep. You assume he doesn’t get much rest, so maybe you should leave him alone. You just want to go for a short walk before a stressful dinner. It’s the same scenario every night: you can’t stand the smell of the food so you refuse to eat it, and Sukuna tries to shove it down your throat.

You decide not to bother him, getting on your tip toes to try and sneak out of the place without disturbing his ever-so-rare peace. You just need a moment outside, take in a breath of fresh air and walk while you still can. You’re gaining weight faster than you expected, you doubt that you’ll be able to move freely in the next couple of months. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” His hand wraps around your ankle, stopping you from taking another step. You’ve been caught red-handed, and from the tone that you pick up in his voice, he’s not particularly happy about it. He stands up, quickly towering over you.

“I just need a breath of fresh air.” You tell him, hoping that he won’t get too mad. Sukuna made it clear that he must be near you at all times. He’s most worried about his delicate baby, he doesn’t need someone potentially harming him. Him, as if you had any way to know the sex of the baby.

“The sun is setting, you can’t.” He’s firm, you shouldn’t dare challenge his authority. Yet, you pout and cross your arms, hoping to get to him. A foolish trick that would never work on Sukuna.

“I’m tired of being inside.” You comment, making him scoff. You should’ve thought about that hours before, not now. You slightly tilt your head to the side before questioning, “Isn’t this place supposed to be safe?”

“You’re a fool to trust anyone here.” He quickly replies, and you click your tongue. “It’s time for you to eat, let’s go.”

“Please, I’m not hungry.” You respond, though it falls on deaf ears. Sukuna picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder before carrying you to the dining room.

“Uraume! Get dinner ready!” He yells, while you kick your feet so he lets you go. Sukuna wants to laugh. Not a scoff, a genuine laugh. You’re so pathetically weak, yet you try to break free from his grasp by kicking him. You’re probably using all of your strength, but it doesn’t feel like anything to him.

He puts you down on the floor of the dining room, and you frown at him as he takes a seat across from you. You’re acting like a child. You don’t want to eat, you’re refusing anything and everything. Your stomach is too sensitive and you absolutely hate the feeling of regurgitation. You never thought you’d hate a feeling as much as you hate that one. But Sukuna doesn’t take your feelings into consideration, as to be expected.

You refuse to speak to Sukuna as you sit across from Sukuna, waiting for your dinner. Typically you’re trying to keep some sort of conversation going, but you’re not in the mood at this moment. Sukuna isn’t going to say anything about it, he enjoys the peace. 

Within minutes, your food is in front of you. But neither of you dare touch the plates. Sukuna watches you like a hawk, waiting for you to make the first move on your food. 

“Eat.” He orders, but you dramatically turn your head. You refuse. No one is going to make you eat, not even the brutish monster before you. “I ordered you to eat!”

“No.” You keep your voice calm. You keep up your composure. It’s a simple answer that sends him over the edge. Before you know it, he’s reaching over the table and trying to get your mouth open so he can shove food inside.

Your lips are sealed, refusing to let any food into your mouth. He’s trying to get an opening, but you’re not letting him in. He sees tears well up in your eyes, suddenly becoming sensitive about the situation. He shouldn’t care. It’s stupid. It’s so stupid. His heir has to eat. 

“Fine!” Sukuna ends up letting go, giving up as a tear streams down your cheek. Before he can even blink, you stand up and run out of the place. Sukuna makes sure to follow behind, only to watch you puking the little food that you had in your stomach.

He rolls his eyes, sighing. He has to find a way for you to eat, and apparently the way he just attempted isn’t the right way. Whichever way it is, he has to figure it out soon.