#anyway the next three parts will be under a different title

[g0atmama]

Open Air, 3

part 3/9; a set of stories about the Tribunal attending a gala with their beloved

Part Three featuries my Hannabi Sendas and Vivec

Sometimes Hannabi really hated working for a Hlaalu. And not just as a House thing, sure she was Redoran, but that could be bearable if the man wasn't so stingy. She sighed deeply, devolving into a barely hidden groan as a customer approached to order some of the food.

Her face was starting to hurt from the fake smiles. But smile she did. It was an ordinator, carrying his helmet under his arm. One who came in quite often for his lunch, one her Hlaalu boss said eats for free. He wasn't getting food today, though. At least not yet. He asked if she had been given her break yet.

She had not.

The ordinator frowned. He put his helmet on, looking to the odd Telvanni scrying orb the boss had gotten. "Lord Vivec has an important discussion to be had with Lady Sendas. She will return only when the discussion is finished."

With that, the Ordinator nodded to Hannabi. She moved quickly, pulling the apron and gloves off to follow him to the Temple. Or… not? He instead led her to the little dining room in the building, where Vivec was waiting with another ordinator.

They had already had their lunch rush, so there were only a few people around. It seemed one had just spoken to the warrior-poet, returning to his seat with a quiet and respectful greeting to Hannabi. She sat across from Vivec.

His smile always made her heart flutter. His hands reached, taking hers. He kissed her hands, each of her knuckles. He noticed a tiny scratch and a barely-there bruise that hadn't been there that morning. The cleaning tools were always scratchy. And she kept bumping her hand into things.

He laughed. Her heart soared at the sound. He gently kissed the injuries, then looked to her with a mirror of the adoring look she was giving him.

“My dove, we will soon be attending a religious gala in Mournhold. You will have to take time off to get fitted for the dresses."

She blinked. A gala would be formal… she hadn't been somewhere formal in years. Decades. Not since her mother had dragged her and her brother to a Redoran event in an attempt to get them betrothed to bolster the Sendas family. Her mother was always so absorbed in rank.

And yet, there was excitement. A part of her always loved seeing the pretty dresses other women would wear. She loved all the fabrics and styles and patterns. Vivec could see it, how her eyes sparkled at the idea of getting to wear a dress her family could never afford.

Vivec hummed happily, pulling his hands away. Hannabi followed him as he stood, magic shimmering over her body. His own magic, illusions for his own mind. She couldn't see the outfits he was testing upon her. She couldn't see the myriads of colors he was testing upon her flesh. He wanted to bring out the vibrancy of her purple eyes.

"Mmh." He said after a long moment. "We'll summon tailors to attend your dress."

[yeonzzzn]

🖤won’t give up on us: sim jaeyun

part three of the off limits trilogy

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 17.1k

synopsis: your relationship with jake has been better than ever. almost two years have passed since moving in with your brother, heeseung, sunghoon and jake, what’s even better is everyone finally graduated college. but with the new freedom of your adult life, other challenges make their way into your relationship.

genre: established relationship, older brother’s best friend!au, smut, fluff

warnings: swearing, multiple unprotective sex scenes, breeding kink, hair pulling, oral (m. & f. receiving), fingering, cum eating, alcohol, masturbating, some tags will be hidden due to not spoiling the story, MINORS DNI. lmk if I missed anything ♡

✰ this is part three to this trilogy, please see part one and two under the title before reading this one. ✰

˗ˏˋseries spotify playlist´ˎ˗

In the blink of an eye, almost two years have flown by. 

Your relationship with Jake was now stronger, harder to penetrate or break. You still had fights, but never again like what happened when you broke up. 

You, yourself even felt stronger coming out of that dark place you were in. Shaping a better heart that you were able to hand to Jake. And he did the same for you. 

Everything on campus was different now. You and Jake both had eyes on you, yes. But Stella and her bitch squad never once spoke to you or even Jake again. You’ve walked past them on campus, she’ll give you a dirty look and you’ll respond with your middle finger. 

Jake even came around with Shotaro, getting to know him better, and to his surprise, was trying to hang out with him more than you. 

But one by one, everyone finally graduated college, leaving your graduation in two weeks. 

Except you didn’t think you’d make it to graduation. 

You lay on the couch in the living room, coughing up your lungs and sweat rolling down every inch of your body. How could you have gotten sick two weeks before graduation? 

“I’m actually going to die,” you mumbled. 

Your brother sat on the floor beside your head, dabbing a cool wet washcloth on your forehead, a mask covering his face. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, he responded, “You have a terrible case of the flu, you aren’t dying.” 

The three stooges stood at the end of the couch, masks also on their faces as they watched Jay take care of you. 

“Doctor said you’ll be better next week, ya?” Jake said, reaching down and massaging your legs through the blanket covering your body, “Just continue taking your meds and you’ll be better soon.” 

You knew they were all right, but you chose to be dramatic anyway, “I’m dying!” 

Jay covered your face with the cool washcloth, “Shut up, Stinks.” 

Usually, you’d fight him on the nickname, but right now all you wanted was rest. 

Heeseung and Sunghoon took every opportunity to tease you. Heeseung would walk into the living room with a can of Febreze, spraying it as he walked past you to get to the kitchen. Sunghoon would walk by holding his index fingers into an X. You’d just respond either with your middle finger in the air or sitting up and fake coughing at them, making the boys scramble away in a hurried fashion. 

But as they all said you recovered just in time to finish up the rest of your classes for the semester and walk the stage to get your diploma. 

Jake has never looked more proud in his life watching as you crossed that stage and officially started the next chapter in your life. He had actual tears streaming down his face. 

Jay was even worse of a mess. Has snot rolling out his nose and ugly crying and everything. 

“Jongseong,” you snorted at seeing the state your older brother was in, embracing him into a tight hug as he continued to cry into your shoulder. 

“You’re all grown up, I can’t believe it. I remember when you were just a baby,” 

Your father forced Jay off you, so he and your mother could also embrace you in a hug. 

Heeseung and Sunghoon were next in line for a hug, and then there was Jake for last. 

You stared into his eyes, smiling so wide as he pulled you into a kiss, “I am so proud of you, my love.” 

“It’s all because of you,” which is true. If it weren’t for Jake or even your brother, you wouldn’t have moved in with them and graduated with their help. You were thankful for all four boys. 

Shotaro even made his way through the crowd to pull you into a hug, “You killed it, princess!” 

At one point, your eyes would drift off to Jake to see him cringe at the nickname Shotaro has given you, but over the last few years, it doesn’t bother him, Jake just stands there with his puppy dog eyes and smile, joining the hug with you and your best friend, “She did! Didn’t she!!” Jake said, nuzzling his head between you and Shotaro, “Our girl did so well!!” 

You blushed at all the compliments and love you were getting, you’d be a liar if you said you hated it all. 

Jay threw a party for you that night. Granted it was just the five of you, along with Taro and Sunghcan, but it still felt great to be surrounded by the people you loved the most. 

Everyone sat in the kitchen and living room, talking and drinking away. Jake wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling your body closer to him. His eyes traced down the side of your face and down to his necklace that even after all these years still stayed wrapped around your neck. His eyes moved down to your breasts and the way they peeked out over the drop of the dress you wore for your graduation. 

Jake felt his pants tighten, his mind wandering to the thoughts of your tits in his hands, tongue shoved down your throat and dick pushing in and out of you. His hand gripped the beer can, biting his lower lip. 

Normally, Jake would wait to dick you down once company has left, but since everyone is drunk and in no way going home tonight…

Fuck it. 

“Hey,” he whispered in your ear so seductively that it sent chills down your spine. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was Jake wanted. With the way his lips brushed your ear and hand tightened at your waist. It made you soaked on the spot. 

You leaned into him, “Hmm?” 

He softly chuckled, “You look so sexy right now,” 

Your eyes wander around to your brother and then your friends, seeing them all too interested in whatever card game some of them were playing at the table and whatever game the rest were playing on the Nintendo Switch. No one would even realize you’d two be gone. The music was playing loud enough in the apartment that they wouldn’t be able to hear anything anyway. They were too drunk to realize anything really. 

You shifted, pressing your body to his, feeling his cock hard against your stomach, your breast pressing to his chest, making him hiss, mouth practically drooling over you. 

“Keep acting up and I’ll press that pretty face of yours into the pillows in our bed.” 

You stood on your tip toes and gave him a quick kiss, “What else would you do to me? Hmm?” 

Jake’s head was spinning. Oh, the things he wanted to do to you. The way he’d do them. Fuck. 

He took the beer can from your hands, setting it down on the counter beside his, lips touching your ear again, “I’d have you screaming my name while I fuck that sweet cunt of yours until I’m spilling into you.” 

It’s all you had to hear before taking his hand and leading him to your shared bedroom, Jake closing and locking the door behind you. 

You didn’t even have time to turn around, have time to kiss him let alone touch him. Jake threw you into the bed face first, one hand on the back of your neck and he pushed your face deeper into your pillows. 

Your pussy was clenching already, feeling your slit pooling in your panties. Hands gripping the bedsheets. You turned your head slightly, looking Jake in the eyes, seeing nothing but desperation behind them, so lust-filled. 

Jake’s cock was twitching against his pants, so angry and begging to be set free. With his free hand, he lifted your hips up higher, arching your back. 

“You look so pretty like this,” he whispered, sliding his hand from your neck down your back and resting at your hips with his other hand, “Don’t move pretty, be a good girl for me, ya?” 

You nodded, biting your lips. You wanted to beg him, wanting to feel his hands everywhere and his dick deep inside you. But with the way he was right now, you knew Jake would either take his time and enjoy the way you were in front of him, or get right to fucking into you. 

Jake lifted your dress up and over your ass, bunching it at your hips, releasing a hiss, “Fuck YN,” he groaned, seeing how soaked your panties already were, “Want my cock that badly?” 

You nodded again, “Jakey please,” you wiggled your hips, Jake’s hands immediately gripping your ass and squeezing tightly. 

“I said don’t move,” he growled. 

You stayed still, listening to the sound of his shirt, jeans, and boxers hitting the floor. Jake glances down at his angry cock, pulsing and red. His precum dripped down the side of the tip, aching to find its home inside your pussy. 

He pulled your panties down, letting out a “Fuck,” at seeing your juices creating a string connecting to your paints, “You’re so fucking wet for me baby,” He lifted your legs one by one to pull the laced fabric off you, flinging it somewhere into the abyss of the room, then rolling your dress completely off your body, shoving your face back into the pillows. 

Seeing you this wet drove him insane. Watching your cunt clench around nothing, waiting so patiently for him to fill you up. 

Jake shoved two fingers inside you, ears ringing from the pleasured moans that left your mouth, scooping your wetness from you and bringing it down to his cock, rubbing it up and down his shaft. Jake suppressed the moan he wanted to let out as he pumped himself a couple of times, then adjusted himself up to your pussy, wasting no more time and shoving inside. 

Your jaw went slack as he filled you up, his hand pushing your face even further into the pillows, the fabric now in your mouth. 

Jake fucked into you hard, his hips snapping back and forth as if his life depended on it. Fingers gripping your hips tightly, surely to leave bruises in the morning. 

“Fuck, baby,” he finally moaned out, “You feel so fucking good. Fuck,” 

You were screaming into the pillows from the pleasure, chanting his name with each thrust. Your head was spinning, seeing stars. 

“You know how proud I am of you baby?” he said, fingers now wrapping in your hair, pulling you up, his chest now pressed to your back, “You’re the smartest person I know. So proud. You deserve this dick, don’t you baby?” 

You nodded, “Fuck yes Jaeyun and you’re being such a good boy giving it to me like this.” 

Jake fucked into you harder, “Yeah? I’m your good boy huh? Dicking you down so hard and fast, being so good taking me like this.” 

You reached up behind you, hands finding their way into Jake’s hair and pulling, “Fuck baby,” he practically screamed, “I’m going cum so hard if you keep it up,” 

And you did, tangling your fingers even more into his hair as you pulled with all your might, Jake’s thrusts getting sloppier. 

“No way I’m cumming before you,” he growled into your ear, his hand at your hip sliding between your legs, fastly circling his fingers on your clit, “Cum for me first baby, then I’ll breed this sweet cunt.” 

You moaned out his name, pulling even harder at his hair. 

You and Jake were filled with so much pleasure, both growing more sensitive at each other's touches. It took everything in Jake to not cum right here right now, using every bit of willpower he had to hold back from painting your walls with his seed. 

But Jake couldn’t hold on much longer, his will slipping. But you beat him to it, your climax rushing you so fast as you came around his dick, “Oh fuck,” he moaned, “M’cumming baby, going to breed you, fuck, fuck. Cumming, I’m cumming.” 

His hot cum filled you, his hips snapping into place against your ass, hands pulling you down onto him, making sure every ounce of cum spilled into you. 

Both your bodies shaking, Jake laid you down on the bed, his body gently laying on top of you, dick still inside. 

He rubbed his thumb against your jaw, placing soft kisses on your neck, “I love you. Fuck I love you so much.” 

You tilted your head, catching his lips with yours, “I love you so much too my sweet, sweet Jake.” 

—

You leaned your elbows to the table, fingers rubbing your temples. The room felt like it was spinning and that you were about to puke up your lunch and coffee that Shotaro just bought you. 

“YN? Princess?” he called you by your nickname, snapping his fingers in front of your face until you looked up at him, “Everything okay?” 

You just shook your head, “I feel like death.” 

Taro leaned back into his chair, taking a sip of his coffee, “You look like death too.” 

You roll your eyes, “Jeez, thanks Taro.” 

Shotaro just chuckled, the jazz music playing in the background of the coffee shop you frequent was soothing and relaxing. How could you feel like shit when this amazing music is filling your ears? 

You dropped your face into your palms, “I can’t really be getting sick again.” 

Shotaro started thinking, “Didn’t you have the flu last time?” you nodded, “Did you change out your toothbrush and get more toothpaste? Did Jake change out all that as well? What about Hee, Hoon, and Jay?” 

That was way too many questions for your brain to process, but you continued to nod anyway, “Yes to all that. Jay made sure everyone changed out everything and washed every blanket and sheets in the apartment.” 

“Do all five of you really just share food and drinks like that?” 

You shrug, “I’m siblings with one, grew up with them all and dating one of them, and been living with them for almost two years. I don’t think there is such a thing as not sharing in that apartment.” 

Taro just nodded, “And I know they didn’t get sick after you did.” 

You just nod again, too winded to even speak. 

Shotaro just kept running through everything in his head, the people who’ve been sick after or before you were before graduation. Hell, even Shotaro changed out toothbrush and toothpaste after he found out you had the flu. He wasn’t taking chances and you’ve eaten after each other a couple of times. 

But the more Taro tried to wrap his mind around it the more it hurt his brain, his own headache forming. The only thing he can see how you got sick is from passing some random stranger who was sick or…

Wait. 

“When was the last time you had sex with Jake?” 

You glance up at your best friend, narrowing your eyes, “You need to be more specific, we have sex all the time.” 

Taro bit down every ounce of nerves he had and begged you with his eyes to forgive the questions he was about to ask, “I mean, when was the last time he…you know…” 

You raised a brow, “Every time? I am on the pill,” you just stared at your best friend, “Taro what are you getting at?” 

He started playing the timeline in his head, from the moment you got sick with the flu, to graduation, and to now. If what he’s thinking is true…then. 

“It’s been about, what? six-seven weeks since you’ve graduated?” You nod, “Did you and Jake have sex that night?” 

You nod again but this time more confused and getting kinda angry that Shotaro was putting his nose into your sex life, “Taro, what does my sex life with Jake have any—“ 

And then it hit you. 

“It would make sense…” Taro whispered.

“But it can’t be?” you pull your hair back out of your face, eyes glued to your iced coffee on the table, watching as the ice floated more to the top. 

“YN, last question,” he took a deep breath, “What medication did they put you on for the flu? And does it affect taking birth control?” 

You just stared up at him. Every piece of the puzzle falls into place. 

The medication the doctors gave you to treat your flu would have countered your birth control pill, and since you were sick and obviously not having sex you skipped the pills until you took the last bit of medicine to treat the flu before taking them again. And the last day of your medicine for the flu was…two days after you graduated. 

Your eyes widened, “Holy shit.”

Shotaro sighed, “Yeah, holy shit,” and took another sip of his coffee, “You could be pregnant.” 

—

Jake sat at his work desk, eyes reading over the article on the new software his company was planning on launching within the next couple of months. His boss leaves Jake to take on the project alone to fix all the major issues with it. 

He leans back into his chair, thumbs rubbing over his eyes from staring at the computer screen for too long. 

Why did he choose software development out of everything he could have when it came to his major? Guess it’s too late now to change it. 

Jake can’t complain though, he makes BANK and the job comes so easy to him too. Plus he works the typical nine-five Monday-Thursday having Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off to do whatever he wants. Plus his co-workers and boss are great people. He has it made here. 

Jake’s mind gets taken off the article by his phone vibrating in multiple texts. 

Jay: did you piss off my sister?  Jay: because she just busted down the apartment door before storming off into your bedroom, paced around for like ten minutes before leaving the apartment again. 

Jake sighed, rubbing his eyes again. 

Jake: not that I know of… Jake: I haven’t spoken to her since this morning when I left for work. She was supposed to be with Taro today Jay: She just came back, seemed calmer this time tho. She has a grocery bag, guess she needed snacks?

Jake tossed his phone onto the desk, going back to the article. As much as he loves you and his best friend, whatever attitude problem you have right now, Jay could deal with or he would deal with when he gets back home. Jake tried to think of anything he could have done to upset you, but not thinking of a single thing. 

Jay: she’s pacing again.  Jay: well now she locked herself up in the bathroom.  Jake: dude, she’s your little sister. deal with it? Jay: your girlfriend tho buddy. you deal with it.  Jake: …I am working.  Jay: I’ve never seen her act like this before. something is wrong. 

Jake looked at the time, he was off in an hour. He texted Jay back saying he’ll talk to you once he’s home and left it at that. Jake had half a mind to call Shotaro and bug him about what happened. You seemed fine earlier besides a small headache. 

The clock ticked and chimed once it hit four o’clock, Jake jumped from his seat after shutting his PC down and practically skipping out of the building. 

He couldn’t make it home fast enough, his mind was only on you and if you were okay. He called Jay the minute he got off work for an update and he said you were still locked up in the bathroom. Jake was worried. 

He made his way up the steps to the apartment, fumbling around with his keys to unlock the door. Jay sat in the living room with a bowl of popcorn in his hands, a horror movie on the TV. 

“Is she still in the bathroom?” Jake mouthed to his friend, earning a nod from him. 

Jake walked up to the door, knocking softly, “Baby?” he called for you, trying to turn the knob to find it locked, “YN, sweetheart, baby what’s wrong? Unlock the door please.” 

After a sigh on the other side, you unlock the door and slightly open it and pull him in, then shut the door behind him. 

Jake’s hands were on you immediately, checking if you had a fever, runny nose, everything. 

“Hey,” he whispered, cupping your face with his hands at the look of shock, “What happened?” 

The first thing he assumed was Shotaro fucked up somehow. A pity really if that’s the case, Jake was just starting to like him. 

You look up at your boyfriend, debating where to start. 

“Remember when I got sick with the flu?” 

Jake nodded, rubbing his thumbs against your jawline, “How could I forget? Your brother went all clean freak on us and made us wash everything and replace everything.” 

“Do you remember the medication I was on?” 

Jake thought for a second, then nodded, “Yeah? Baby that was weeks ago.” 

“I had to stop taking my birth control because of it…” 

Jake looked at you in confusion, “I know? It would have canceled it out anyway. YN, stop beating around the bush, what happened?” 

Your eyes dart to the sink and Jake follows your gaze seeing the grocery bag, and five boxes of pregnancy tests sitting around the counter. 

Jake looked at the boxes, then back at you, then back at the boxes, “I’m confused?” 

You roll your eyes, “Jake, I was off my birth control for the entire time I took my flu medication. And didn’t get back on it until the last pill of the medicine was gone, which was two days after graduation.” 

He just raises a brow at you, waiting for you to continue. 

“We had sex the night I graduated when I was still off my birth control.” 

Those words. Those exact words were all it took for Jake to swallow and feel how dry his throat had become. 

“Are you sure?” 

You looked back down to the boxes, “I pissed on every single stick in those boxes, and every single one of them came back positive.” 

You had to be honest, you were scared to tell Jake. The two of you have always been so careful when it comes to sex. Always have condoms on standby just in case. You always made sure to take your birth control pill on time every single day. And well shit, you both even still carried around Plan B’s as a backup. 

Jake was shaking and his heart was racing, “You’re pregnant?” you nod, waiting for him to get upset. Waiting for him to sink down onto the floor and laugh it off that you’re lying, to call your bluff. But he didn’t, his eyes softened, and the corners of his lips curled, “I’m going to be a daddy?” 

You nodded again, your lips also moving into a smile, “You’re going to be a daddy, Jake.” 

He couldn’t stop the smile that grew. Like wow, you’re pregnant? He’s going to be a father? You’re going to be a mother? Jake will get to raise a baby with you. Get to grow this little family even more. 

Jake pulled you into a kiss, arms wrapping tightly around you, “I love you so much,” he whispered between kisses, “I can’t believe it.” 

“Well you better believe it,” you kissed him again, “And I love you so much too.”

Jake sank down to his knees, placing his hands on your waist and kissing all over your tummy, “I am so happy right now.” 

Before you could respond, the bathroom door opened, “Hey I heard laughing, is everything okay now?” 

You stared wide eyed at your brother as he looked down at Jake on his knees. You could see the gears turning in your brother's brain, thinking he walked into a sexual act about to happen. 

He turned to leave, opening his mouth to make a smart retort when he saw the boxes in the sink. Jay looked at every single one before going back to you, down at Jake, back to the boxes…then the light bulb lit up above his head, face now tensed as he looked at you, then at Jake again. Jake awkwardly smiled up at your brother. 

“You got to be fucking joking.” was all your brother said. 

—

You and Jake sat on the couch, arms crossed as you both stared up at your brother pacing back and forth in the living room. 

“You’re going to cause a draft,” Jake finally said, trying hard to not laugh, but stopping his smile when Jay stopped pacing and looked at him. 

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around this,” Jay said, rubbing his temples as if he had the worst headache. 

You stare down at the boxes that now sit on the coffee table. Jay looked at every single piss stick in those boxes more than five times each as if the answer on it would change. You found it funny, hilarious even. Jay was acting as if he were the one growing a human life. 

Jake sat forward, narrowing his eyes in confusion, “Brother what is there to wrap your head around? She’s pregnant.” 

Jay slid his hands down his face, the stress showing on his face as he glared at your boyfriend, your happy mood faltered. You could read him like a book, “Jay, what’s really going on?”

Your brother let out a sigh before dropping his hands at his side, “I’m going to be an uncle?” he chuckled, his hands finding their way back to his face and then in his hair, “Like wow, my baby sister is pregnant with my best friend. I’m going to be an uncle…” Jay repeated those words a few more times before the worried look turned into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen him make, “I’m going to be a fucking uncle!!” 

You smiled as wide as he did, standing from the couch and rushing to your brother and hugging him. Jay squeezed you so tight, rocking you back and forth as his laughter filled your ears, “Seongie, you’re literally going to be the best uncle ever.” 

“Fuck yeah I am,” he said, laughing even more, then turning to look at Jake, “You going to just sit on the couch? Get your ass up and join this family hug.” 

Family. Jay was officially his family. The term brother would mean more now than just being super close. Jay will be the uncle to his child. The big family Jake always wanted was finally within his reach and who would have guessed it would be with the people who were his second family growing up. 

Jake bounced from the couch, embracing you and Jay in his arms, joining the laughter that filled the apartment and still laughing even after you three pulled away. 

“God, I can’t believe you let him get you pregnant stinks,” Jay teased, flicking your forehead with his fingers. 

“It was an accident!” Jake defended himself, “Not my fault your sister is like a sex goddess.” 

“Dude,” Jay rolled his eyes, “That’s my sister I don’t want to hear that,” Jake just smiled at him, already loving the way he was going to tease the hell out of Jay through this pregnancy, “Anyways, when did this happen?” 

Jake was the confused one now. Jay literally was just on his ass about speaking about his sex life with his little sister, but now he’s asking when it happened? 

“Are you really asking me when I boned your sister that impregnated her?” 

Jay shrugged his shoulders, “Well when you say it like that…” 

You just looked at Jake, trying to not laugh at the obvious embarrassment on his face. Usually, the roles are reversed, but guess Jay pulled a fast one on him this time. 

“It was my graduation night,” you said for Jake, “Would you like to know the details since you want to be so nosey?” 

“God no shut up!” your brother scoffed, “I didn’t actually want to know I just wanted to tease Jake. Jesus fucking Christ.” 

Jake awkwardly chuckled with a shake of his head, “Now we just have to tell Heeseung, Sunghoon, Shotaro, my brother, and both our parents.” 

“Taro already knows.” 

Jake raised a brow at you, “He knew before me? Before Jay?” 

You just shrugged, “Taro was the one who suggested I might be pregnant. I was feeling sick earlier this morning, it was the only logical explanation.” 

That…makes a lot of sense. 

And as if speaking of the devils manifested them into existence, Heeseung and Sunghoon arrived back at the apartment, snapping at each other over the flavor of pop tarts and which one was better. Both their hands were filled with groceries. 

“Oh!” Heeseung scoffed, “Nice to know you three were home and ignoring your cell phones! Would have been nice to get some help.” 

Sunghoon nodded with a click of his tongue, “Yeah, would it have helped to not have been so lazy?” 

You crossed your arms, eyes darting between the two of them. You glanced down at the coffee table with the pregnant test boxes, and stepped off to the side giving them both a better view, “We were kinda busy with something important.” 

Sunghoon noticed what the boxes were immediately, his eyes widening and mouth slightly open. 

Heeseung tossed the bags of groceries into the solo recliner chair and picked up one of the boxes, “What could have been so important you’d ignore your best friends…for…” 

Heeseung looked over the box for a couple seconds before tearing it open and taking the test out (obviously holding the end you didn’t piss on), eyes widening at the positive marks. 

“You’re pregnant?!” Heeseung shouted, his voice filled with so much excitement as he looked up at you, eyes sparkling with the happiness he was feeling for you and Jake.

You smiled, giving him a nod, “Yeah, I’m pregnant!” 

“Holy fucking shit!” Heeseung shouted, tossing the stick and box back onto the coffee table and pulling you into a hug, “Congratulations stinks!” 

Sunghoon was right beside you, dropping the groceries to the floor and pulling you into him, “You’re growing up so fast!” 

“Oh, fuck off!” you pinched his bicep, and all Sunghoon could do was laugh. 

“I am so happy for you, YN,” he said, eyes darting over to Jay, “You’re going to be an uncle my dude!!”

“I know!” Jay shouted with the same excitement as his friends, “I mean, you two will be uncles too, since you’re practically family.”

Heeseung’s jaw dropped to the floor, “I’d be Uncle Hee!!” 

Jake watched as the most important people in his life laughed, shouted, cried out of pure happiness, and hugged each other. His heart was so full and so warm. He had the best non-biological brothers surrounding him. Had the best girlfriend who was now carrying his child. Had a good ass job that helped pay the bills and help support you and the baby. What more could he ask for?

Jake continued to watch his family, picturing a miniature you/him running around the apartment. Picturing Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon being the best uncles in the world as they play, laugh, love, and care for his future child. 

That thought alone also sunk Jake’s heart, “Guys,” he said, everyone turning and looking at him. Jake had the realization that the apartment was made to fit four people. There are five people standing in this living room and You had a baby on the way, “This place is about to get a lot more crowded.” 

— 

You lay on the couch, two fingers pressed into your cunt. Your other hand slid underneath your shirt, squeezing your breast and twisting your nipple between your thumb and index fingers. 

Nobody else was home, all four boys were at work and Shotaro couldn’t hang out with you. 

What better way to pass the time than to touch yourself? You weren’t fortunate enough to have gotten a job after graduating and now that you were pregnant, Jay and especially Jake, were against you getting a job right now.  

“You’re pregnant, you don’t need to work right now,” Jay said, taking your laptop from your hands to keep from applying to any more jobs. 

“I’m pregnant, not disabled!” You snapped, “Let me do something besides sit at the apartment all day.” 

“Yeah, and if you get a job you’ll be on pregnancy leave shortly after getting it. Might as well just wait.” Jay retorted back. 

“Baby,” Jake said, kneeling down beside you, his hand resting on your belly, “You’re already doing enough by growing life inside of you. Please just wait until after you have the baby.” 

You looked to Heeseung and Sunghoon for support, they just shook their heads, hands raised up, “Not my circus, not my monkeys,” was all Heeseung could say, with a small snicker of laughter from Sunghoon. 

Traitors. 

You glanced down at your belly, baby bump now fully on display as the little speck of life grew more and more every day. 

You were at the end of the first trimester and the beginning of your second trimester, your baby bump was obvious that you were pregnant, but with your clothes, no one would ever know unless you told them. The morning sickness came and went as it pleased, your weird food cravings kicked in a bit, and all four boys started being more careful around you. Helping you sit down and stand up as if you all of a sudden couldn’t do that on your own, always grabbing things for you instead of you getting it yourself. You weren’t that far along in the pregnancy, you didn’t need that kind of help right now but took the help anyway. You knew you couldn’t get out of it. 

You flung your head back onto the pillow, pumping your fingers faster and squeezing your breast tighter. 

You breathed in harder, arching your back at the pleasure. You glanced at the clock on the wall, Jake should be coming home for lunch at any minute, bringing the takeout you requested as your food craving of the day. 

But you got horny while waiting for him, and now here you are, waiting for him to come home to help finish you off and then eat your lunch. 

The sound of the keys sliding into the lock made you jolt, your cunt clenching tightly against your fingers, not being able to wait any longer, you needed Jake. 

“Hey baby,” Jake called from the front door, kicking his shoes off before stepping in, “I have your lunch.” 

You tried to call out to him but lost your breath in a small gasp. 

Jake heard the gasp, and thinking something was wrong, he quickly rushed around the corner from the hallway, stopping at the sight of you, him nearly slipping on the hard floor at seeing your legs spread with your fingers pumping in and out, Your fucked out facial expressions and other hand massaging your tits. 

He was hard almost immediately, “Oh baby, fuck,” he hissed, his hand palming at himself through his jeans, “Look at you.” 

“Jaeyun,” you whined, barely being able to speak, “I need you,” 

Jake left the bag of food on the solo recliner chair, sliding his jacket from his body and tossing it to the floor, “Yeah baby? What do you need me to do?” 

“Touch me,” you whimpered, “Please do something.” 

Jake slid onto the couch in front of you, tossing your legs over his shoulders and replacing your fingers with his, using his other hand to grip the top of the couch as he hovered over you carefully. You shut your eyes and furrowed your brows, mouth opening wide and letting out a wet moan as the feeling of his fingers slid into you, “Feels good baby? Couldn’t wait until I got home to touch yourself?” 

You nodded, “I needed to do something, was too horny.” 

Jake bit his lip and pumped his fingers faster into you. The last thing he was expecting to see when he came home was you sprawled out on the couch so wet and ready for him. Jake has only seen you this needy a handful of times, it was a once in a once-in-a-blue-moon kinda thing but oh god was he loving it. 

Seeing you so needy only made himself needy too and removed his fingers from your cunt, “Jae—“

“Shhh baby,” he whispered, “Sit up a bit for me, ya?” 

You nodded, pulling yourself up into your elbows and scooting up a bit onto the couch arm. Jake laid himself between your legs, lifting your hips up a bit to give him a better angle at your pussy. 

Your hands gripped the cushions of the couch at feeling his tongue flatting against your hole, “Fuck, Jake!” 

His chuckles sent vibrations up your whole body and made you shiver. His tongue licked streaks up and down your cunt, twirling the muscle around your clit and back down and up again. Repeating the process a few times before sliding his tongue into your pussy, shoving the muscle so far into your hole his nose was now rubbing against your clit. 

You chanted his name, knuckles turning white from the death grip you had on the couch, squeezing your thighs against Jake’s head. He moaned into your cunt, bucking his hips into the couch to feel some kind of friction on his cock, his hands gripped your hips tighter, thumbs rubbing circles at the edge of your belly. 

The more you squeezed his head between your legs, the more he knew you were fixing to burst, working his tongue faster and angling his face to the side a bit in a tilt, opening his mouth wider to shove his tongue further into your pussy and wrapping his lips around your hole, digging his nose a bit harder against your clit. 

“Jaeyun!” you pant, “Jake, I’m going to cum.” 

Jake hummed against your heat, only removing himself to let out a “Cum on my tongue for me baby,” then reattaching himself to your cunt, eating you out like you were the last meal he’d ever get. 

And it made you come undone, your cum coating his tongue. Jake took a deep breath through his nose, licking your pussy completely clean, taking all your cum into his mouth and swallowing it, “Fuck you taste so good.”

Your chest raised and fell at hitting your high, flinging your arm over your forehead, taking more deep breaths. 

You look down at your boyfriend, seeing the look in his eyes as he licks his lips, still soaking up your leftover juices on his mouth, “Turn to your side,” You roll over, watching him unbuckle his belt and pants, sliding them down and off his body. Jake squeezes himself between you and the couch, “Lift your leg over mine.” 

You wrapped your leg over his hip and tucked it between him and the couch. His tip lined up with your entrance, and slowly slid into you, “Fuckkkk,” he moaned in your ear as he bottomed out, “You feel so good.” 

Jake thrust into you slowly, wanting to savor every ounce of pleasure he could get before having to return back to work, but that plan failed as you backed your ass into his hips and reached a hand behind you to grasp his hair, “Fuck me harder,” you begged, “Babe please.” 

His body shuddered, hand gripping your hip and bucked his hips faster, the sound of skin-to-skin filling the quiet of the apartment. 

Jake glances down, watching as his hips thrust into you, watching the way your body moves in sync with his. His eyes wandered higher, seeing the baby bump. He carefully places his hand on your belly and snapped his cock further inside you, holding it there to rub against your cervix, “You’re so sexy pregnant,” he growled in your ear then started fucking into you again, “Should have bred this pussy so much sooner.” 

You pulled at his hair, “Yeah, you should have.” 

Jake was losing his mind. Something about fucking his sexy as fuck pregnant girlfriend on the couch in such a tight space made him dizzy. He couldn’t be as rough and manhandle you as he normally would, but fuck this was still so hot and pleasuring as if he was being rough with you. 

Your grip on his hair yanked harder, sending Jake over the edge and filling your cunt completely with his cum, his hand now at your thigh as he squeezed it tightly as he continued to pump his cock in and out, letting your pussy milk him completely. 

Out of breath, Jake lays his head on top of yours, hand sliding from your thigh and down back to your belly, thumb drawing little circles. 

You placed your hand on top of his and leaned more into him, “You really think I’m sexy pregnant?” 

Jake chuckled, “Of course I do, I’ll always find you sexy.” And it was true. He’ll never not find you sexy. 

He continued to run his hand over your belly, yours following on top of his, tracing the outline of your naval then sliding down on the underbelly then your hips, and back up. 

“I still can’t believe you’re growing a life,” Jake whispered, “Growing our baby.” 

You lifted your head up to look at him, smiling at him and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “And it’s all thanks to your sperm that got past all the female's defenses to find the egg.” 

Jake softly giggles at your medical terminology and presses his lips back to yours. 

He was really still in disbelief. You went from that little girl he grew up with and would tease to his girlfriend and being madly in love and pregnant with his child. Jake was truly so blessed to have found his soulmate so early on in life. 

“I love you,” he said between kisses, his hand softly squeezing your belly, “I’m so lucky to have you.” 

“I love you too,” you smiled so warmly at him, sliding a finger down his jaw. 

Jake pressed one last kiss to your lips, “Let’s eat, I’m still starving after my first meal.” 

You giggled, being so thankful for him. 

—

“What about this one?” Heeseung asked, holding up the ugliest orange shirt you’ve ever seen. You scrunch your nose, “Hard pass, got it,” he said, placing the shirt back onto the rack. 

You were thankful Heeseung came along with you to do some much-needed shopping. Your baby bump was no longer easy to hide and all the clothes you’d normally wear no longer fit. Well, they did but felt way too tight. 

You practically tore your and Jake’s bedroom apart trying to find any piece of clothing that would fit comfortably that wasn’t one of Jake’s hoodies or sweatpants. Heeseung just so happened to be walking out of his bedroom and crossing the hall and almost got hit in the face by a pair of flying jeans. Which is how you now ended up at the mall with him doing much-needed clothing shopping. 

“You need some more color in your closet though,” Heeseung said, shifting through all the shirts on the rack, “You can’t just keep having white, black, and red, YN.” 

You pouted, “I have other colors!” 

Heeseung glared at you, “The few blues, purples, and greens don’t count. You have more black shirts than anything else, you little emo. Even Jake has more colors than you.” 

You wanted to fight back but knew you couldn’t. Heeseung was right. 

“And check this one out,” He pulled a really pretty lavender shirt from the rack, holding it up against your chest, “I think it looks good!” 

You nodded, actually really loving the color, “Put it in the cart,” 

Heeseung’s eyes sparkled as he placed it into the cart with the other mixtures of jeans, leggings, dresses, bras, panties, and socks, all for you. 

You watched as he moved onto another clothing rack, watching as he pushed the cart for you. You couldn’t hide the smile that was forming on your lips as you looked at him with endearment. If he was willing to do all this for you, his best friend's girlfriend, and his other best friend's little sister, while pregnant, you could only imagine how well he’d treat his future girlfriend and wife. Heeseung would make a fine husband someday. 

“Seungie, you sure you don’t mind doing all this?” you felt somewhat guilty. Jake should be here too, picking out clothes for you. But unfortunately, going and watching Formula One races with your brother at the sports bar was in his deck of cards today. You even called Jake earlier and told him the plans you made with Heeseung and he didn’t even bat an eye at it. 

“Why would I mind?” he questioned, taking a pink long sleeve off the rack and holding it up to you, “Yeah pink is definitely your color while pregnant,” then tossed the fabric into the cart. 

“Because you literally helped me shop for bras and underwear?” 

Heeseung shrugged his shoulders as he continued to flip through the clothing rack, “They are just clothes, YN. I’ve done your laundry plenty of times, and have walked in on you and Jake undressing each other enough times. We’ve grown up together, shopping for undergarments with you doesn’t bother me at all.” 

Your heart filled with the love you have for him, wanting to pull him into a tight hug and kiss his cheek. Heeseung was definitely that second older brother you never had. 

But you decided to use this time to tease him. You don’t get to tease Heeseung often, he was always one step ahead but this might be your chance. 

“Jake might think differently after finding out you helped shop for lace bras and panties for me when it should be his eyes only.” 

Heeseung chuckled, holding up a black long-sleeve and then tossing it to the cart, “Then maybe he needs to find better hiding places to smell your panties with.” 

Your smile fell, “He does what?” 

Heeseung let out a loud laugh, “YN, I’m joking, you can’t try to tease me and expect me to not clap back.” 

Always one step ahead as usual. 

“Besides, I’ve only ever caught him with your panties once and that was before you moved in with us and he was definitely NOT smelling them, that’s for sure.” 

You knew about how Heeseung caught Jake rubbing one out with a pair of your dark blue panties that were Jake’s absolutely favorite pair. You saw Jake steal them from your drawer before he took that drive back home and confronted him before he could even step foot out the door of your dorm. Jake wasn’t a panty sniffer, but he sure used to be a stealer. You remember how Jake called you not even five minutes after Heeseung walked in on him. You thought it was the funniest thing. 

“Jake honestly probably wouldn’t care anyways,” you shrugged, following behind Heeseung as he moved into another section of clothes, “He’d just be happy someone was here with me.” 

Heeseung agreed, “He’s been so protective over you since finding out you were pregnant. He made me and Sunghoon swear to look after you if he and Jay weren’t around to do so. Never seen the man that protective, and you know how he is over his ramen.” 

Getting Jake to share his ramen is a hard thing to do, even with you. He had a bowl the other night and you had to beg for him to share and even pulled the pregnancy card to get him to share it, which he didn’t do by the way, “Just because you’re pregnant doesn't mean I’ll share my ramen. Fuck off.” Asshole. 

Heeseung continued, “You really make him happy, YN.” You nodded. You knew you did. Jake never goes without telling you, “You know, I was a bit jealous at first.” 

You raised a brow in confusion at him, “What are you talking about, ace?” 

Heeseung sighed, picking up another shirt, then placing it back on the rack, refusing to make eye contact with you, “When we first saw you again after all that time during winter vacation, you had all our hearts dropping, just so you know. It wasn’t just Jake’s.” 

You knew the feeling was mutual, seeing Jake, Heeseung, and Sunghoon all grown up made your heart flutter. They were good-looking men, they still are, there’s no denying that. 

“We knew from the beginning that Jake’s heart kinda dropped a bit harder than ours did,” he continued, “Don’t worry about Jake finding out about this conversation, he already knows,” you nodded, waiting for him to continue, “I woke up one night and saw Jake sneaking out of the guest room, I think it was the very first time he did so. I sat up after the door was closed only to see Sunghoon was staring at the door as well. We knew exactly where he went. We stayed up discussing it. About what we should do about it. We knew Jay would kill him and then kill us if he ever found out we knew.” 

Ouch, guess you and Jake suck at hiding, “Does my brother and Jake know you two knew?” 

Heeseung nodded, “They do now. The four of us had a good long talk on that drive back to the apartment, but at first no.” 

Makes sense. 

“Anyway, Hoon and I just decided to keep it to ourselves. Mostly because, well, our own feelings were conflicted. You weren’t completely the same little girl we grew up with. We were mostly just attracted to you, that’s how far our feelings went really. I was jealous Jake had the balls to go after you even after Jay was being his crazy protective brother self,” Heeseung laughed, “Jake was really crazy for crossing that line. Had major balls. But after he snuck back into the guest room that night and saw how wide his smile was at breakfast that following morning, you became off limits not just because of Jay, but also Jake. Hoon and I decided to drop the attraction, don’t get me wrong, you’re still as pretty as ever, but you went back to being our little sister super quick.” 

You just smiled at him, you found it cute that the three stooges all had some little crush on you at some point. Funny even. Jake just happened to be your soulmate from the beginning, they all knew that too. 

“Anyway,” Heeseung said again, finding a blue top with a flower graphic design, “I think we have enough clothes picked out for you,” he said as he tossed the article of clothing for you into the cart, “How about you help me find some new outfits for you now?” him giving you his heart lipped smile. 

You nodded, it was the least you could do, plus you both were already here. 

Heeseung continued to push the cart as you found clothes for him. It was his turn to watch you with such endearment. Heeseung doesn’t know why he decided to tell you about the small and very short-lived crush he used to have on you. Maybe it was because you looked so pretty today. With how your hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and wearing Jake’s hoodie and sweatpants. It was way too cute. You’ve worn Jake’s clothes even before he got you pregnant, but it was still cute. Made him think that this is how his future wife will look once pregnant. But looking at you made Heeseung happy because you were happy. Jake made you happy and you made Jake happy. Which obviously made everyone else happy. 

Heeseung watched as you picked him out a bright pink shirt, leaning on his elbows on the cart, his eyes wandering down to your belly, his smile growing wider, “I can’t wait to become an uncle.” 

—

Jake and Jay clinked their beer glasses together as they cheered for their racing team, chugging down the liquid. Then asking the bartender for another refill. They clinked their glasses again, chugged it down, and got another refill. 

Jake and Jay’s phone buzzed, Heeseung texting the “and they were roommates” group chat. 

Jay took a few sips of his beer, ignoring the chat so Jake looked instead. 

“Hee and YN are back home,” Jake said, and Jay nodded, “Hee also said to let either him or Sunghoon know if we need someone to come get us.” 

It was usually this way if any of the boys went out without the others. Everyone is always on standby if anyone gets too drunk. And if all of them went out together, one person wouldn’t drink or drink as much to be the driver home. It was a perfect system. 

Jay took a few more sips of his beer then set the glass on the table, “How did YN's doctor appointment go yesterday?” 

Jake brought the glass to his lips, “Everything is good. She’s healthy, the baby is healthy. That’s all I could ask for,” he took a few sips of the beer and trained his eyes back to the TV with the race on it. 

“Do you know the gender yet?” Jay asked curiously. Jay has been thinking about that a lot lately. If he’ll have a niece or nephew? Will they have more of the Park genetics or the Sim genetics or an equal mixture of both? Will he be a good uncle? God, he hopes so. 

Jake just shakes his head, “YN wants to wait until she has the baby, wants it to be a big surprise. Should have seen her face when the doctor tried to tell her the gender. She held her hands up so fast and straight up told the doctor to keep her mouth shut.” 

Jake chuckles at the memory, he thought you were going to fight the doctor over it. Thank god you didn’t. 

Jay relaxes in his seat, studying his best friend, “Are you nervous?” 

Jake narrows his eyes and releases a huff, taking another sip of the beer, “Oh what? Nothing to be nervous over.” 

Jay could see right through Jake. He knows his best friend like the back of his hand, he can see it all over Jake’s face that the further along you got in your pregnancy, the more nervous he got. Jay really noticed Jake’s shakiness after returning from the appointment yesterday. 

“To be a dad. Nervous about wanting to take care of my sister, and wanting the pregnancy to go smoothly. Bro, I can see it all over your face. You vowed to stop drinking and partying after she got pregnant, yet you were the first one tonight to order alcohol.” 

Jake just shakes his head, “I want to be the perfect dad. I want to take care of YN through the whole pregnancy. I want our baby to be healthy. I’m scared man.” 

Jay nods, slowly rocking his body with the nod, “I’m nervous too.” 

Jake raised a brow, clearly confused. 

Jay continued, “I lived for protecting my sister, that obviously hasn’t changed, but I always tried and wanted to be the perfect older brother for her. I knew once the day came that she started popping out kids that I wanted to be a perfect uncle and protect her kids as I did her. But I also feel like I haven’t been the best or perfect brother. That I didn’t try hard enough and now I’m scared I’ll fail as an uncle.” 

“Are you fucking serious?” Jake snapped, causing Jay to widen his eyes at him, “You’re not a failure of a brother. You never failed YN and you won’t ever fail her. You did perfectly to protect her, trust me, as someone who got caught sneaking around with her, you do a pretty damn good job at it. And you won’t fail our child either. I promise you that. You’ll be a perfect uncle.” 

Jay tried to keep his eyes clear as he nodded, never wanting to admit that Jake’s words gave him the ego boost he needed. 

So he raised his glass, “To our little family.” 

Jake smiled, raising his glass as well, “To our little family.” 

“Including Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Shotaro, because YN would kill us both if we left them out.” 

Jake nodded in agreement, “Amen to that brotha.” 

“Thank you…for helping me take care of my sister,” Jay chuckled, “She doesn’t just have to deal with me trying to protect her.” 

“Trust me,” Jake rolled his eyes, “She hates it.” 

“Well YN gotta deal I guess.” Jay shrugged but also laughed. 

Jay had to admit he finally and fully was able to accept Jake in your life. He always accepted him, it just took a little bit longer to be one hundred percent okay with it. To be completely used to seeing you wrapped in Jake’s arms. Because now when you weren’t by Jake, it was weird and didn’t sit right. Jay honestly was so thankful you chose Jake. Because if you chose any other loser male out there, Jay wouldn’t be as accepting. No one is good enough for his sister besides Jake. Point blank. Plus, you were pregnant with Jake’s baby, and Jay kinda had no choice but to fully accept Jake into the family. 

They chugged down their drinks and got another refill, paying back attention to the race and knocking their sad attitudes away. 

“You know,” Jay said after some time, “We’re both fucked if you have a girl.” 

Jake groaned and dropped his face into his hands, “Don’t fucking remind me, I’ve already thought about it.” 

Jay chuckled some more, chugging down his alcohol. If you did have a girl, he already knows his protection level will skyrocket. And since Jake will be the baby’s father…oh all hell would break loose. That baby wouldn’t just have to deal with an overprotective father, but an overprotective uncle. Maybe that’s why you didn’t want to know the gender yet, you knew what would happen the minute everyone found out. 

And honestly, it wouldn’t just be him and Jake losing their brains over you having a girl. Heeseung and Sunghoon would also protect that child with their lives. The two of them are already helping you around the apartment and watching your every move. It’ll just be worse once the baby is here. 

Jay shook Jake’s shoulders, “Come on man, lighten up! Just focus on the fact you’re going to be one kick-ass of a dad!” 

That lifted Jake’s spirits, “Yeah? Think so?” 

Jay nodded, “Yeah. Because if you aren’t I’ll beat you myself. YN will be right behind me too.” 

Jake just rolls his eyes, “Whatever man.” 

The two of them laughed and continued to watch the race and enjoy each other's company. 

Heeseung had his arm wrapped around Jake, and Sunghoon had his arm wrapped around Jay, helping the two of them walk out of the bar. 

You had your arms crossed as you leaned against the car, watching for your boyfriend and brother to come into view. Your heart relaxes once the sight of Heeseung and Sunghoon dragging them out comes into view. 

“Damn, how much did they drink?” You asked, your eyes glancing back and forth between the two drunks. 

Sunghoon scoffed, “Who knows, but we told them to not get so fucking hammered.” 

“But our racer won!” Jake smiles, letting out a hiccup then his eyes focused on you, “Baby!” 

Jay looked up at you, realizing Hee and Hoon left you outside, his protectiveness and rage coming in, “You left my pregnant sister outside by HERSELF?!” 

Jake then realized it himself too, “You left my pregnant girlfriend outside by HERSELF?!” 

“Oh shut the fuck up!” Heeseung snapped, “I tried to usher you both out of the bar by myself but I needed help. YN was told to stay INSIDE the car.” 

You just shrugged, “I can hold my own.” 

“You’re pregnant!!” Jake and Jay both said in unison.

“Yeah! Pregnant! Not disabled!” 

Jake lifted himself from Heeseung and walked to you, taking your chin between his fingers and his other hand resting on your tummy, “You and this baby are the most important things to me, if something were to happen to you two…I…” 

You relaxed your body and placed your hands on your boyfriend's face, you knew he was just being protective. Same with your brother. You knew you were the most important thing to them, the least you could do was respect their wishes when it comes to protecting you. 

“I am okay,” you reassured him, looking at your brother and repeating the words, “Heeseung and Sunghoon wouldn’t have left me alone if they didn’t think it was okay.” 

“Trust me,” Sunghoon said, trying to keep Jay from slipping out of his hold, “We didn’t want to leave her in the car.” 

“Can we discuss this at home?” Jay said, hanging his head low, “I think I drank way too much.” 

“You don’t fucking say?!” Heeseung scoffed, helping Sunghoon with Jay. 

“I’ll drive Jay’s car back,” Sunghoon said, “Help me get him in then we can head back. I think YN has Jake fine.” 

You nodded, eyes darting to your brother, “Take care of him.” 

You got Jake in the car, him laying his head on your shoulder, cuddling up to you. 

Heeseung returns quickly and jumps in the driver's seat of his car, “Let’s get home guys, I’m exhausted.” 

You watched Jake’s hand through the street lamps and moonlight as his thumb rubbed your thigh then shifted up and placed his whole hand on your pregnant stomach. 

“I can’t wait to meet you,” he says softly, taking a deep breath and snuggling more into you. You rest your head against the top of his, smiling. You could already tell Jake would be a fantastic father. 

You kissed his forehead, whispering, “I love you.” 

—

You moaned softly into Jake’s mouth as he slowly pumped into you. 

The early morning sun beats down onto the bed, making his skin shine beautifully. 

Jake slides his tongue down your mouth, his hand moving up and down your bare back, stopping to squeeze your ass, moving down to your leg wrapped over his hip, and squeezing your thigh before moving back up and repeating the process. 

You were now about halfway done with your pregnancy. Your little sprout of life grows perfectly and healthy every single day, which made having sex with Jake a bit harder now that the baby has grown so big. 

But that didn’t stop you two, obviously. 

Jake woke you up this morning with kisses to your neck, and his fingers sliding down your shorts, “I need you so bad right now.” 

The sex wasn’t rough but filled with so much love. It was soft, lazy, passionate, and just so so much love. 

His hand stopped at your hip and squeezed it tightly, “I want to get so rough with you, fuck,” he whispers, “I need to cum.” 

You remove yourself from him, sliding his cock out and rolling over to your other side, backing your ass into his hips, “Then get rough with me babe.” 

Jake hissed, quickly shoving his cock back into your cunt, snapping his hips fast against your ass. 

“Fuck baby, can never get enough of this pussy.” 

You could tell Jake was losing himself in your heat. He hasn’t been able to be rough like he normally wanted to, being too afraid that he would hurt you. 

Jake leaned more into your back, pressing you into the sheets as he fucked into you at a primal rate. His fingers slipping between your legs and rubbing your clit at the same pace. 

You bit into the fabric of your pillow to suppress your moans, not wanting to wake anyone else up in the apartment. Your hands gripped the sheets, knuckles turning white. 

You missed how rough Jake could get. Missed him pressing your face into the pillows. Even though this wasn’t the full extent of roughness that he could do, you still ate up every ounce of what he was giving you right now. 

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed, “You’re doing so good for me, taking my cock so well even though you’re pregnant.” 

You felt your climax reach its peak, Jake groaning at feeling you cum on his cock. He was literally on cloud 9. And the fact you’re letting him get even the smallest amount of rough with you was driving him crazy. 

Jake would be lying if he said he didn’t google sex positions to use while being pregnant and read plenty of articles on it too. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. 

Jake also read how some girlfriends/wives completely took sex off the table when they found out they were pregnant. He was so fucking blessed that you had just as high a sex drive as he did. Jake would lose his mind if you wouldn’t let him have a taste of that sweet pussy of yours for nine months. His hand would only get him so far before his crumpling at your feet begging you to let him fuck you. So again yeah, he thanked god you were just as addicted to his cock as he was to your pussy. 

Not to mention the position he has you in right now was so sexy to him. He was still able to press your face into the pillows and rail you from behind, getting to see how his cock moves inside you, watching how your cum wraps a white ring around his cock. Get to see every facial expression you make while hitting your G-spot. What’s not to love about it? Plus you’re comfortable and it wasn’t affecting your belly at all. 

“Hmm I’m fixing to cum baby,” he growls, “Going to fill this cunt to the brim.” 

“Pleaseeee,” you beg, wanting nothing more than to feel his cum stain your insides. 

“Hmmm,” he hummed, licking the shell of your ear and then biting the lobe as he came. His strings of white rope filled you completely, “Fuck…fuck,” he moaned, trying to catch his breath. 

Jake kissed your temple before pulling out and removing himself from the bed. You rolled over and watched his naked figure dig in his dresser for a clean pair of boxers and socks, slipping them onto his body then grabbing his favorite pair of jeans that he wears to work, along with his white striped button-up. 

You sat up in bed, pulling the covers over your naked body, now cold from the loss of your boyfriend pressed against you. 

“You should call out,” you softly said. 

Jake chuckles as he sits on the edge of the bed, pulling his sneakers onto his feet, “I would if I could my love, I need every time saved up to use once you give birth.” 

You groaned and pouted but knew it wouldn’t get you your way. Knowing he couldn’t actually call out. Mostly when he wanted to take off a couple of days around your due date just in case he needed to rush you to the hospital. And then there’s the first few weeks he wants to spend with you after the baby arrives. He couldn’t take off at all and the only reason his leave got approved by his boss was because he promised to show up every single day before you gave birth no matter what. Yet you still pouted anyway. 

“What will I do while you’re gone?” 

“Why don’t you see if one of the other guys can hang out with you?” Jake wanted to call out. Wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with you all day. But he has a future child and a girlfriend to feed and spoil, he kind of needed to work. 

“I already asked them,” You cross your arms, “Heeseung also has to work, Sunghoon is spending the day with his sister, and Jay is too busy finishing up his culinary degree online to step away.” 

“Have you called Shotaro? I’m sure he’d love to see you.” 

Your eyes lit up, remembering that Taro had the day off today, “Yeah I’ll give him a call.” 

Jake smiled at you, “Just make sure to be careful okay?” he asked, placing his hand over your growing belly, “Don’t do anything you know you can’t do, let Shotaro help.” 

You rolled your eyes, being as stubborn as ever. 

“I’ll call and tell himself—“

“Okay!” you said, “I’ll behave.” 

“Good,” Jake pulls you in for a couple of kisses, then kisses your forehead, “I’ll see you when I get off. I love you.”

“I love you too meanie head!” 

Then you watched him walk out of the bedroom. 

—

“What do you mean you don’t want a baby shower?” Taro asked, brows furrowed as his fingers rapidly pressed the buttons on his PS5 controller, the sounds of the boss he was fighting and killed on Elden Ring filled his sound system, “Yes!!!” 

You slouched down onto his couch, watching as his character now ran out of the castle, “Didn’t you beat this game already?” 

“Hmm,” he hummed, still focused on the game, “But I am doing a different build this time.” 

You just sighed, continuing to watch your best friend play his video game, the ice in his coffee on the table to his right slowly melting away. 

“Are you going to answer my question?” 

You groaned, “Ughhh Jay was on my ass about this too the other day,” you pouted, and decided it was time to sit up. Taro quickly set the controller down to his set and helped you sit up, “I don’t want a baby shower because I don’t really have any girlfriends, and even so I don’t know the gender of the baby, so I don’t want to get a bunch of pointless gifts. Jake and I decided we would just probably have a small get-together after our child is born and we all go shopping for stuff then.” 

Shotaro nodded, making sure you were sitting up comfortably before grabbing his controller again, and going back to the game, “I guess that is a bit easier and less planning out. Totally sounds like a you thing to do though. Why would Jay get onto you for it?

You shrugged, “I think he’s more nervous than I am and wants an excuse to drink.” 

Shotaro laughed, “Yeah, I’ve noticed the lack of Lee, Parks, and Sim at parties.” 

Which Taro understood completely. Everyone was an adult and you were pregnant, none of the four men wanted to leave you alone at the apartment while they went out. Even if they wanted to, Taro always offered to sit with you, but I think the reality check hit each of them hard after finding out you were pregnant, kinda sending them to a more sober life. 

“Those four really took attached at the hip seriously huh?” 

You scoffed, “Yeah, it’s probably worse now than what it was when we were kids, and they were super annoying as kids.” 

Shotaro sometimes wished he knew you five back then. From the stories he’s heard from Jake, Jay, Heeseung, Sunghoon, and yourself, the five of you were a blast to be around. You five, at least to Shotaro, were the sole definition of what friendship/family is and what it meant. He’s happy that he’s a part of the family now, but man he would have loved to see you all in your prime. 

Shotaro closed out Elden Ring, “Want to play anything? I feel bad just having you sit here.” 

You shook your head, “Taro I feel perfectly fine just sitting here and watching you play games. Your company is everything and much needed.”

Taro just smiles, opening up Elden Ring again and leaning back on the couch. He knew you just wanted some company, but he still didn’t want to let you feel left out either. 

From what Jake said, you used to be super independent, not needing anything from anyone or needed anyone who wasn't Jay. That you grew up so headstrong and unbreakable, probably due to having Jay as your brother and the three stooges as your friends. Even when you went off to college you were independent, only ever spending time with your roommate and a few other friends but mostly did your own thing. 

But something changed after that winter break and moving into town. You got used to relying on others, always having one of the four boys at your side so when they are all busy, you feel lost. That’s where Shotaro came in. He knows you two are best friends and that you love him and know when you need him, and you need him right now. Things got a lot crazier after finding out you were pregnant, but Taro still was filled with endearment each time you asked to hang out. 

You slid back onto the couch too, leaning your head against his shoulder. Shotaro leaned more into you as well, letting the two of you be comfortable with each other's space. 

“Actually, can I learn to play? Jake plays this at home all the time too.” 

Shotaro nodded, “Of course, princess.” 

He hands you the controller, “Are you sure? I don’t want to mess up your progress.” 

“It’s just a game, YN,” he chuckles, “Plus I know what I’m doing, I can fix any mistake you make.” 

You smiled, letting him teach you what each button does and how it works, and then taught you the basics of the game. Before you knew it you were running around and slaying the lower level enemies. 

“Figured out names yet?” Taro asked, taking a few sips of his coffee. 

You shrugged, “We honestly haven’t really discussed it. Jake and I have been really going about this blind, besides you know, reading the parenting books and doing your basic research. Plus I’ve been attending my doctor appointments and everything seems to be going well, so we are doing something right.” 

“As long as you both and the baby are happy and healthy, that’s all that matters. Maybe it’s one of those things that once you see your child for the first time, the name will come to you almost immediately.” 

You nodded, “That’s what we are going for.” 

You were then killed in the game and Taro teased you to no end that you got his character killed even after he said it would all be okay. 

But you were happy, laughing, and enjoying your time with your best friend. You could see it now, Shotaro being another non-biological uncle to your child. Teach him or her to play video games and tease them to the point they are crying from laughter. 

You were truly blessed to have been surrounded by the right people. 

—

Jake rolled his eyes as he shoved his gloved hands into his puffy jacket pockets, “Is there any reason why I need to be here right now?” he scoffs, a shiver going down his back, “I could be at home cuddling my girlfriend.” 

And rightfully getting my dick wet. 

You woke up super touchy this morning, pressing your chest and belly against his back, leaving a trail of kisses down his neck and shoulder, sliding your hand down his boxers, and pumping his long hard length slowly. 

Jake could be buried balls deep inside you right now. Whether that means your hand, mouth, or cunt. He didn’t care, he just wanted to fuck you slowly. 

Sunghoon skated passed him quickly, taking Jake’s mind out of the multiple positions he could already have put you in by now. 

“Man, we just want one last bro day before YN has the baby,” Heeseung tucked his hands into his pockets, “She’s ready to pop open any day, ya?” 

Jake just nodded, staring down at the ice underneath him, “Within the next few weeks yeah.” 

Jay patted his shoulder, “Don’t look so nervous, everything will be fine.”

Jake knew everything would be fine. But you’ve been staying in bed or lounging around on the couch more often than doing anything else these days. With you finally being in the last leg of your pregnancy, Jake just wanted to take care of you. And obviously, get his dick shoved so far up your cunt that it makes you see stars. 

Jake just rolled his eyes, “That’s not the point, I want to be at home with her right now.” 

“You just want to get your dick wet,” Sunghoon said as he slid across the ice in front of his friends, “I heard the fooling around that was happening this morning.” 

Jake glared at his best friend, “Really man?” 

Jay was also glaring, but not at Sunghoon, “Yeah really man?” Jay might have fully accepted Jake as family and his relationship with his little sister, but he still didn’t want to hear about the sexual acts the two of you do. 

Jake was now glaring at Jay, “I got her knocked up, I don’t see why you’re giving me the death stare right now. It’s kind of obvious at this point that I have sex with your sister.” 

Heeseung and Sunghoon could honestly eat popcorn and watch Jay get mad about Jake railing against you every single time. But Jay was just being a big brother protecting his baby sister, even though you were literally so close to giving birth. 

Jay just waves his hands in the air, “Nah nah I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Anyways!” Sunghoon interrupted, skating back in front of his friends, “We are going to have a bro day and ice skate on my old stomping grounds from hockey days. YN is with my sister having a girls' day, she’s fine.” 

Jake knew once the baby was here that having a guy's day would be less often, mostly up until you’re able to take care of the baby alone after much-needed rest and care. So he shrugged his shoulders, knowing you were with Yeji and perfectly safe, and smiled up at his friends. 

It’s been a while since the last time the four of them ice skated together. It was probably before college. Because once Sunghoon was accepted onto the hockey team, it became hard to skate together again. 

The four boys raced around the rink, trying everything they could to outrun Sunghoon but failing terribly. 

Jake’s heart was so full. He felt like a kid again being with his best friends. With the way everyone laughed, teased, and talked without a care in the world brought all of them back to their high school days. When they’d sneak out of the Park’s house and climb onto the roof and look at the stars until you got annoyed at hearing them talk above your bedroom. 

The memories didn’t stop there. Jake started to remember his soccer days in high school. Remember seeing Jay, Heeseung, Sunghoon, and you cheering him on from the bleachers. Remembering how his parents threw a big party for when his team won the championships for the school district, everyone’s parents drank and laughed in the kitchen while the five of you along with Heeseung and Jake’s older brothers, and Yeji. How you all played around outside until the sun went down. 

Jake rounded the corner of the ice rink, his smile up to his ears as the images of his friends once as children came into mind, then turning them back into who they are all now. 

It’s crazy how fast time can change, but how the four of them never did. They continued to grow together, learn together, and still had each other's backs. 

Jake was truly lucky to have these guys, mostly now that he has you. Jake will never have so much trust in anyone else with his child as he will with the three men standing before him. 

Jake pulled his friends into a hug, “I really needed this today guys, thank you,” His friends pulled each other closer, their smiles never fading, “I truly do love you guys.” 

—

You lay in bed, scrolling through the latest TikTok trends and giggling softly to yourself, using your thumb to swipe to the next video, your other hand gently resting on your belly, fingers tapping lightly as if to tell your baby that you’re here and ready for them. 

You were nearing the due date, counting down the actual seconds until it was time to finally meet the little sprout of life that you and Jake created. To finally grow this small family into something bigger. You were excited, Jake was excited. Same with Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon even went out and bought a small hockey jersey of his favorite team for the baby to wear. Heeseung bought baby Legos, and Jay bought a small baby guitar to teach his nephew/niece the love of music so early on. 

Sometimes you think the other three are more excited about you giving birth than you and Jake were. 

But nevertheless, it made you more than happy to see the three of them excited for the baby. 

The only con to being pregnant and being at the due date is everyone has been more on edge. All four of the boys have started picking up more hours and longer shifts at work to pile in that extra money. Mostly because you can’t work and Jake will be taking a leave to help take care of you and the baby. So the other three decided to pick up those hours to help pick up the slack from Jake not working to help pay the bills. You were grateful and hated that you could pitch in, but you loved them all dearly for it. Jake also was working himself to death recently, wanting to get every last penny possible to put into savings for the hospital bills you’ll have and to get clothes and food that everyone else will need. 

You set your phone down at your side, staring up at the ceiling. Grateful and love aren’t big enough words to describe how happy you are to have those four men. 

As if on cue, the front door to the quiet apartment opened, an obvious sign that someone returned home. 

Today was one of the rare days you were left alone. Mostly because Shotaro also had to work and wasn’t able to call out or get a replacement. But you promised to stay in bed all day to help ease the boys' minds. 

You sat up in the bed, listening carefully on who could have come back home, then heard the sigh of your boyfriend and the sound of him dropping himself onto the couch. 

Your heart raced as you swung your legs over the bed and stood up, making your way to the bedroom and opening it slowly, peaking out to see Jake hunched over on the couch, face in his hands. 

You walked out of the room, the sound of your bare feet walking on the floor had Jake lifting his head, giving you a small smile, “Hey baby, you resting okay?” 

You nodded, taking note of the bags under his eyes. How tired he looked, how he seemed to barely keep his smile up. 

“Jake, are you okay?” you asked him, taking his hand into yours, and rubbing your thumb into his palm. 

Jake just nodded, leaning back onto the couch, “I’m just exhausted. They sent me home early because I almost fell asleep on a computer tower I was working on.” 

You bit your lip as you squeezed his hand. Jake has been working so hard for you. Barely getting enough sleep. If he wasn’t at work, he was at home helping to take care of you. You couldn’t help but feel guilty. 

Jake could see the worry in your eyes, quickly trying to blink away the sleep and sat back up, taking both of his hands to your belly and resting his forehead against the middle, “Don't look at me like that,” he whispered, “It’s all for you, for us. It’s going to be worth it once this little one is here.” 

You tangled your fingers into his hair, taking a deep breath in. Jake is almost as stubborn as Jay when it comes to putting his mind to something. You knew no matter how much you told him to rest or not worry about you, he was going to do everything anyway. 

Jake’s hand moved to your hips and softly squeezed, leaving a few kisses on your clothed belly, “Even when you’re fixing to burst open you’re still so sexy, YN.” 

A heat wave went through your body, and you started acting on instinct. 

You placed your hands on his shoulders, slowly pressing him back onto the couch. Jake looks up at you, seeing the lust that filled your eyes now. Seeing the want to take care of him. 

He had to admit, it got his cock hard so fast. 

Jake watched as you sank down to your knees, crossing your legs underneath you for better balance, hands now at the button of his jeans.

“Baby—“ 

You cut him off, “Let me take care of you,” you said it more as a warning than anything else, making him know damn well he better sit back and relax, “You’ve been taking such good care of me, let me repay it.” 

Jake didn’t even attempt to start arguing, not after you slid his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, his cock slapping against his abdomen from being set free. The tip already red and angry and leaking with precum. Jake bit his lips, any exhaustion he had was out the window as he watched you take his length in your hands, extending your tongue and licking him from his balls all the way up his shaft and to the tip. Flattening your tongue over the top and pressing the precum, mixing it with your saliva. 

Jake couldn’t hold his moans back, mostly not after you placed the tip between your lips, slowly sucking it as your tongue wrapped around it then releasing it with a pop. 

You fluttered your eyes up to him, seeing the way your boyfriends pupils were already so blown out. Loving how furrowed his brows were and how his mouth opened a gap. You smirked at him, keeping eye contact as you stretched your tongue out again and licked up his shaft. 

“Fuck, baby,” he hissed, hands gripping the cushions of the couch, “Fuck fuck fuck, stop teasing me.” 

You hummed against his cock, placing soft kisses up the shaft and at the tip then finally taking him completely in your mouth. 

Jake flung his head back as he felt your mouth slide down him, the tip hitting the back off your throat and squeezing around him, a wet moan leaving his plump lips. 

You squeezed your thighs together, the moan Jake let out sent chills down your spine and to your heat. You had to be dripping out of your panties after that moan, because fuck it was hot. 

You bobbed your head up and down, taking every inch of him as your hands squeezed his thighs. Tongue working its magic as it wrapped around him, giving that extra pleasure. 

Jake set his head back up, looking down at you all pretty between his legs, sucking him off like the good girl you are, taking such good care of him. 

Jake was losing his mind, seeing the way you sucked his dick, with how you gripped onto his thighs. Wearing that pretty blue sleep dress to help keep the comfort while pregnant. It was so fucking hot to him. 

Here you were, knocked the fuck up and still down on your knees for him. Sucking him like your life depended on it. Jake could cum just from watching you. 

His cock twitched and he hissed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. 

“Baby,” he cooed, running a finger down your jaw and your eyes fluttered up to him, still not slowing down your movements, “I’m fixing—fuck—to cum,” he flung his head back, but then quickly set it back up, “I wanna cum in your pussy.” 

You released him from your mouth, using his thighs, with the help of his hands pulling you up. 

Jake carefully laid you down on your back against the couch, hands lifting up your blue dress until it was now on the floor, hands flicking back to your hips and removing your panties, leaving you completely bare to him. 

You reached for his shirt, hands gliding up his body, fingers tracing over his abs and chest as he helped you remove that last bit of clothing from him. 

Jake lined his cock to your entrance, hands resting on your knees, looking to you for the nod of approval then sliding himself in. 

You gasp as he bottoms out, then pulls himself halfway out, then slams back into you.

Jake bit his lips as he watched the way your body reacted to him deep inside you, watching as you moaned and whimpered under him. Even though you did all this to take care of him, Jake wasn’t going to let himself finish without you getting some taken care of too. 

So his fingers got to work on your clit as he pounded into you. Jake was already close and knew he was going to bust before you did, but he didn’t care. He continued to fuck into you until his seed spilled in you, his hips staggering as he did two last hard thrusts then held his hips in place, making sure every last drop of his cum stayed inside you. His fingers are working faster now. 

Your moaning got louder. The sensation of Jake pressed up against your cervix with his fingers on your clit was driving you mad. You couldn’t form any sentences, could barely even think of a sentence. 

“Oh? Fucked you dumb?” Jake cooed, licking his bottom lip, and slowly started moving his hips again, “All you know is my cock right now? Right baby?” 

You nodded, feeling your climax fast approaching. 

Jake thought he would be finished after cumming, but seeing how fucked out you were made his dick twitch and wanting more. He couldn’t help it, you looked too sexy laying there under him to not move his hips again. Regardless of how overstimulating he felt right now. It just added to the moment. 

“Fuck I love you so much,” he whispered, snapping his hips faster, his cum now leaking out of your hole and dripping down onto the couch, “Here you are fixing to give birth and still caring more about taking care of me and my needs? God, what did I do to deserve you?” 

The knot snapped and your orgasm washed over you. Jake pumped into you faster now, both hands being back on your knees, mixing your cum together. 

“Thank you,” Jake groaned, “Thank you for never giving up on me,” he ran his hands down to your thighs, gripping the plush tightly, “Even after everything we’ve been through, after the shit I put you through. You stayed by me, continued to love me—fuck—thank you, baby, for never giving up on me, on us. And I promise you,” Jake reached his second climax faster than expected, but he didn’t care, letting the white ropes shoot deep inside your cunt, hips pinning so hard against your thighs you’re sure bruises will be there in the morning, “I won’t give up on us, I’ll never give up on us, on you, or this family.” 

You exhaustedly smiled up at your boyfriend, looking at him with endearment as you reached both arms up to his shoulders and pulled him down to you. Jake hovered carefully, his hand gripping the back of the couch as his lips connected to yours. 

He rests his forehead against yours, smiling and chuckling as he struggles to catch his breath after cumming twice. 

How did he actually get so lucky to call you his?

—

You woke up in a pained sweat, your body sitting up quickly as your hands reached for your lower stomach. 

It was only five pm, and the apartment was quiet except for the sounds of Jake’s soft snores as he slept beside you, the other three being at work. 

“Jake,” you barely were able to mumble out, reaching a hand from your stomach to tap his bare back, “Jake.” 

Jake sniffled and hummed, not moving. 

You sat up more, feeling the wetness soaking the bed sheets. 

“Jake,” you cried out, shoving his shoulder the best you could, sending his head shooting up and looking at you, “Jake.” 

All it took was one look and Jake knew what was happening. 

“Shit!” he cursed, jumped from the bed, and ran to the closet, grabbing a pair of clothes for you and himself. 

Jake helped you dress as fast as he could before dressing himself and helping you to your feet and out of the apartment. 

You still weren’t due for another few days but Jake never has been so happy to already have his time off from work. 

Crazy how the small nap the two of you decided to take would end with your child deciding to gift the world its presence. Even though nerve-racking, Jake wouldn’t help the excitement. 

Jake was speeding down the street, fumbling with his phone to call Jay while telling you to keep breathing. 

Jay answered on the second ring. 

“What’s up, man? I am in the mid—“ 

“Her water broke,” Jake interrupted. 

“What?” Jake could hear the panic in your brother's voice. 

“YN’s water broke!” 

“Oh fuck,” there was fumbling around in the background and the sound of Jay’s shoes hitting the pavement to show he’s running, followed up by a “My sister’s water broke, I gotta go!” more running then a car door being shut, “Please get her to the hospital safe, I’ll be there shortly.” 

“Call Hee and Hoon and all our parents too,” Jake was barely able to say, the nerves settling in even more, “I need to focus on YN. Can you also go back to the apartment? I forgot the extra bag of things for her night stay.” 

Jay agreed, “Get me sister there safe,” and then the call ended. 

Jake tossed his phone onto his lap, reaching his hand over onto your stomach, rubbing it gently, “Just keep breathing baby, okay?” 

You nodded, feeling lightheaded and like you were about to pass out. 

Before you knew it, you lay on the hospital bed with nurses and doctors surrounding your lower half. Jake stood by your side squeezing your hand tightly and sending words of encouragement that you could barely hear over the sound of your ears ringing from pushing. 

This was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt, but you knew once your baby was out, it would always be worth it. 

Jake leaned his head against yours, placing kisses on your brow, and continued his words of encouragement, “That’s it, baby, you’re doing great. Keep pushing.” 

You gave one final push, and the pain was easing up. Jake’s head whipped to your lower half as the sound of crying now filled the room. 

You took some deep breaths and relaxed your body, but you noticed Jake’s hand was still squeezing yours. You tried to call him, but eyes never once left your baby as the doctors and nurses took them to a small table, bathing your child clean, their little cries getting louder. 

One of the nurses noticed Jake’s stare, her smile growing wide after the other nurses finished wrapping your baby in a blanket. 

“Want to come meet your daughter, dad?” the nurse said. 

Daughter. He had a daughter. 

Jake opens his mouth to speak, hands trembling. 

“Babe,” Jake hears you call to him, “Go meet our daughter.” 

He finally looks down at you, only seeing how big your smile is even after the exhaustion of pushing out a whole human being. 

So he nodded, finally letting go of your hand, and with shaky legs walked over to the table. 

Jake fell to his knees. One look was all it took. One look at his daughter and everything in life made sense. One look and his life finally had even more purpose than before. One look and that sweet baby girl became the center of his world. 

Oh, he was fucked. 

The nurses helped Jake back to his knees, teasing him about being a first-time dad, and encouraged him to hold his baby girl. 

Tears filled Jake’s eyes as he picked her up, her cries finally disappearing the moment she locked eyes with him as if she knew she was safe and sound in the arms of her father. 

The tears fell down his cheeks, smiling big as he let out a soft chuckle, turning to face you as he rocked her in his arms, “She has the Park nose.” 

You let out a small giggle because of course she does. You’ve never heard the end of how people knew you and Jay were related by similar noses. But you were glad she did have the Park nose. 

The longer Jake stared down at his little girl, the more he saw himself in her. Mostly her eyes, the same beautiful brown that he has. 

“We created this,” Jake cried, finally walking back to your side, “We created this beautiful piece of life.” 

You reached for your daughter, Jake slowly and carefully placing her in your arms. And oh the sobs that escaped your mouth. 

She was so beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful. She was a spitting image of Jake, with small hints of you. 

Jake pulled a chair up to the bed, sitting as close to you as he could, wrapping his arm over your arms that held your daughter, his thumb grazing the back of your hand. 

Her small eyes looked back at him and gave a small yawn. His heart nearly stopped, mouthing opening and voice speaking before he realized. 

“Hwa Young,” he softly said. 

You didn’t take your eyes off your daughter to know what Jake meant, “Beautiful Little Flower,” you whispered. 

“Beautiful Little Flower,” Jake repeated, his smile growing again. 

“Hwa Young Sim,” you smiled, finally turning to face your boyfriend, “Babe, it’s the perfect name.” 

Jake quickly leaned over to kiss you, not being able to get enough of your lips on his at this moment. Hwa was finally here in both your arms, your little family finally completely together. 

Hwa’s soft yawn had you two pulling away from each other, eyes filling with endearment at how her nose scrunches when she yawns. 

You gently traced your fingers over her face, wanting to outline this moment in memory. 

Jake watched as you did it, eyes going back and forth between you and Hwa. Knowing this is what he wanted for the rest of his life. 

“YN?” 

You looked up at your boyfriend, giving him a smile, “Hmm?” 

“Let’s get married.” 

You stare at him, tears filling his eyes once again as he leaned back in to kiss you more then slowly fell back into his seat. 

“Let’s get married,” Jake repeated again, “Marry me.” 

You cried again, nodding and chanting out strings of “Yes yes yes.” 

This might have been Jake’s happiest moment of his life and knew this happiness was never going to fade. He has you. He has Hwa. He has Jay, Heeseung, Sunghoon, his older brother, and his parents. There’s nothing else Jake needed. He has it all now. 

You started to ask where your brother was when the door to the hospital room flew open and everyone’s eyes went to the door. 

Jay stood in the doorway, your duffle bag in hand. 

“I came as quickly as I could, Heeseung and Sunghoon are…on the way.” 

You smiled up at your brother as his eyes were locked into Hwa in your arms. 

“Jongseong, my big brother, want to come meet your niece?”  

Jay almost lost his balance, dropping the duffle bag to the floor and gripping to the wall. Jake couldn’t help but laugh. 

“My niece?” Jay’s heart was pounding. He has a niece. He’s an uncle. Oh my god, he has a niece. 

“We’re both fucked, brother,” Jake teased, “We are done for.” 

Jay slowly walked over to your bedside, watching as you slowly lifted his niece up and into his arms. Jake was right, they both were fucked. Because the moment Jay fully held her in his arms and looked into those eyes, he was done for. Jay became putty in this little girl's hands. She has him wrapped around her finger and his entire world. The protection Jay felt for her was on the same level he had for you, and you could see it in his eyes as he held Hwa. That big brother protection spell overflowing onto her. It made you smile, knowing she would be so loved and protected like you are. 

Jay fought to hold back his tears as he rocked her in his arms, “My sweet niece…” 

“Hwa Young Sim,” Jake said with a big smile, “Beautiful Little Flower.” 

Jay chuckled, “It fits her so well…Little Hwa. Oh my god, she has the Park nose.” 

Everyone in the room laughed as Jay continued to coo over Hwa. Kissing her forehead softly and whispering how he’ll be the best uncle for her, to protect her with everything. It made tears swell back into your eyes. 

Jay chuckled again, “She is a spitting image of you, Jake. An exact copy and paste, it’s crazy.” 

Heeseung, Sunghoon, and even Shotaro rounded the corner of the door frame, the three of them immediately crumbling the moment they laid eyes on Hwa. 

Baby girl has only been born for twenty minutes and she already has everyone in the room wrapped around her fingers and falling to their knees. 

“We’re uncles!!” Sunghoon cheered, taking Hwa from Jay. 

Jake and you watched as your parents pulled in one by one, everyone taking turns holding your daughter and showing her all the love she deserves. 

Jake rests his forehead against yours, tangling his fingers around yours, “Baby?” he hummed, “Let’s have another one, ya?” 

‧₊˚✧THE END✧˚₊‧

—tags: @ikeuverse @slutforsjy @hanjisunginc @alvojake @lhsvibez @wonsbaer @zeeloveshee @jjknoir @jaeyunq @jaklvbub @woniebae @jeongingf1 @haelahoops @willgrysn @in-somnias-world @lovelyikeu @ilikekpop-c @moonrachas @misssparklyprincess @eddieeddiesblog @kaykay11sworld @tasnim10 @kangnina @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @mymemoriesandmelodies @iselltulips @jooniesbears-blog @shawnyle @brownsugarbaybee @woahsehun @laurradoesloveu @citylightsdoll @simjyunnie @cmoundiamante @caramelcandescence @lavenderiridescence @niniissus @hearts4elle @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @fried-bread071696 @coolwitu @kyeoluvr @crimnalseung @jwnghyuns @woninluv @fakeuwus @simhinata

[leclsrc]

do you want it? ✴︎ cs55

genre: summer love!!!, slight age gap, porn w plot basically...

word count: 10.5k  

Whatever preconceived notions you have about your summer at the beach house are all toppled over when your parents announce the arrival of a guest, who happens to be your dad's friend. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by several people! few notes... carlos is aged up a tad, the age gap is 21/33 so not too bad (i aged him up bc the age gap was 7 yrs and i was like. Huh. thats tame). if ur not into that (tho everything is consensual and reader is legal) its ok! anyway im sorry this came so late i had like 6 anons asking ab carlos and lana haha. also big thanks to dani whose work got me thru 4 writing ruts

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, oral sex (m and f receiving), deepthroating, semi public sex ish?, praise central, size kink, like a flash of spit kink sorry..., overuse of the term good girl

Half past noon and after a particularly snappy call from his manager, Carlos bites the bullet on summer plans and decides to accept what is arguably the least glamorous offer on his roster. By no means a dazzling standout, the offer to stay at a family friend’s house in Comporta seems to be the most comfortable option—besides, he doesn’t feel himself to be in the glitzy mood for cities like Los Angeles or Monaco.

Lando, beside him, is thus the first to get wind of the news that “grumpy old man” Carlos will not be accompanying him to the ultimate, tequila-flavored “summer extravaganza” in Morocco.

“You’re boring,” Lando moans, pacing the room. Outside, London’s skyline moves passively. Carlos hangs up his phone call with his assistant, receives a picture of his flight details, and looks up amusedly.

“Portugal is not boring.”

“Morocco. DJs, drinks, girls.” Lando raises one hand. “Comporta. Family friends, apple cider, sand in your eyes.” He raises another hand a few inches lower. “See the difference?”

“I appreciate the difference.” Truth is, Carlos has needed this kind of quiet, calm time off for a while now. The season gets heavy and intense and tiring, and sometimes just staying by the beach with a beer is the best kind of reprieve.

“You’re getting old,” Lando says with a sour grimace. “Old.”

“That is,” Carlos says, searching for the word, “defamation.”

Lando shrugs, moves off the subject as he shoves a handful of crisps into his mouth. “Are you meeting family there?”

“No.” Both of his parents are out of the country for the next few weeks; Carlos was invited by his dad’s friend, though the bond they share is more friendly than just the standard uncle-nephew type of relationship, and they often refer to each other as just friends. “Just friends. Gallery owner and a company owner, I think.”

Lando whistles. “Rich.”

In response, Carlos nods. “And their daughter, who’s visiting from university in the States.” The details are fuzzy in his head, but the gist is about right.

“Sounds boring,” his friend snorts. “Come on, mate. You, me, Daniel. One last chance to watch Peggy Gou’s set and take shots and have fuuun.” He says the last part with the suave that would only rival a preteen’s.

Carlos, for a second, lets his resolve waver. Maybe it would be better watching loud DJ sets, dancing, getting all flushed with alcohol. But he blinks and shakes his head anyway. He hopes his decision is the right one, that summer in the beach house ends up being worth it. It’s a few weeks by the beach, anyway—what’s the worst that could happen?

—

Any recollection of your childhood almost instantly connects to the beach house in Comporta, big and wide and right by the coast. You spent fall, winter, and spring in a constant bumbling state of excitement to spend summer there. Your parents owned it, and often offered family friends to take up residence there when summers in the city got unbearable; for the most part, though, it was the three of you and, on rare years, a guest.

Your summers there have since smudged into the same few memories, of your mum and dad’s faces, of swimming and the learning curve of sailing, of bonfires by the beach on cold nights. And they have since become just that: memories. Summers grew sparse with time, and eventually the idea of meeting distant family friends became more embarrassing than exciting; by the time your parents moved you out of Europe for college, you’d lost almost all memory of the house.

So when your parents ask if you want to fly back to Comporta and spend a few “quiet” weeks there, you figure there’s no harm in seeing what the house is like and what summer can offer you beyond the weekly club outings. Instead of the usual quiet and overall lack-of-bustle that comes with summers, however, you open the front door to three housekeepers dusting every surface in your immediate eyesight.

“Are we hosting a wedding?” You ask when you find your parents tending to two sweaty glasses of champagne. You gesture faintly to the cleanfest inside. “What is going on?”

“We have a guest,” your mother says as she gets up to hug you tight. “Staying for the summer.”

“You said this summer would be quiet,” you deadpan, eyes narrowing underneath your sunglasses.

Your mum pinches your elbow. “I wasn’t lying,” she defends, raising her eyebrows. “Carlos’ son is coming.” She pats your arm. “You know? The race driver! He’s close with your father.” And, leaving no space for you to voice your dissent, she slips back into the house through the screen door, your father kissing your cheek then following suit. Your mouth parts, thoughts beginning to rush with implications of what your mother has just told you.

Carlos—if you’re correct—is Carlos Sainz, Sr., a good friend of your dad’s, and his son is Carlos Sainz, Jr., another good friend of your dad’s, because if there’s one thing rich Europeans do well, it’s the repetition of names. You’ve never met his son, only heard of him and seen a few pictures, but being so far detached from life here, you can’t even shape his face.

All you recall is the fact that he should now be thirty or older, which makes him rather older than you—and therefore effectively incapable of providing any break from any possible summer boredom. For fuck’s sake, he’s close to your dad. You’re at the top of the stairs when you hear the commotion by the front door, peeking at the foyer to catch a glimpse of him.

He’s solo, you observe; upon a glance into the front parking, you notice he’s driven here in a Ferrari, one a bit too modern for your taste but beautiful nevertheless. He carries only two pieces of luggage, and the sun blinds you for a moment before he’s finally at the doorframe, smiling politely, talking to your dad in casual Spanish.

He is, for lack of better word, insanely handsome. He wears a polo that shows off much of his arms, that flex as he puts down his luggage to shake hands with your parents; you follow the movement of his hands to watch one comb through his thick hair, then down to his smile, back up to his brown eyes, deep and so, so pretty.

Maybe this summer deserves a little less begrudge, you decide as you retreat back into your room, still brewing with residual annoyance.

Your parents send him off after a drink and a brief conversation, catch-up, tour of the downstairs area. Carlos knows his room is supposed to be upstairs, but the problem arises in the fact that there are two upstairs rooms and he doesn’t know which one he’s supposed to be staying in. Setting his luggage down for a minute, he knocks on the first door; permissive silence greets him for half a minute, so he turns the knob and prepares to enter.

To his surprise, he finds somebody already inside, a figure by the mirror on the other end of the room. What catches his eye is not the tiny skirt, but the half-tied bikini top currently being wound around two fingers at the centre of your back. You’re basically clothed, but Carlos can’t decide if he’s thankful or not—he doesn’t have time to when you catch him in the mirror and turn around quick, mouth agape.

“Can’t you knock?!” You ask, catty.

“I did—I knocked, but you—there was no answer,” he explains profusely. “I’m Carlos. Sorry, apologies. Truly.”

You introduce yourself. You’re his friend’s daughter, this and that, and you’re visiting from the States to spend summer here. He apologizes again when you finish. 

“Well, seeing as though this is my room,” you shoot back, “that must be yours.” You gesture vaguely to the one down the hall. Amused and a little embarrassed, he mouths apologies as he closes the door.

Carlos exits, departs and doesn’t have time to take in the room before he’s facedown on the bed. Any sleepiness he’d collected from the trip over, from the day drinks, from the headache that’d been blooming at the temples of his head, has dissipated. His mind’s been imprinted with one image only, and it’s down the hall in a tiny skirt.

—

Lunch brings lemonade and pasta, two staples for every summer meal. You, however, find yourself hopelessly distracted by the presence of your guest, and despite your best efforts, the churn in your stomach disables you from fully enjoying the carbonara on the table. The conversation between Carlos and your dad ends up taking your attention instead. “So you’re racing again in a few weeks?”

“Sí,” Carlos nods in-between forkfuls. Then, to add, “Busy, busy times.”

“Well. It’s the worst of our days,” your mum says, a quote she picked up from—of all places—a BBC sitcom she watched to tears last winter. “You are a talented driver, Carlos. Very cultured. I’m sure you’ll enjoy Comporta.”

“I have not been around much,” he says; his gaze flutters over to his glass, which is devoid of water or lemonade. “Any recommendations?”

“A lot, cabrón. Our daughter will be happy to take you around,” your father says on your behalf. He turns to you. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, sure,” you say, allowing a terse smile. “There’s some places around here that aren’t so boring. But that’s being generous.” Carlos laughs at your joke, raucous and goofy, and you would definitely be lying if you told yourself it didn’t get you blushing a little bit, eyes casting themselves to your still-full plate.

“While you’re here, Carlos,” your dad continues, “I have an old car in the garage that could use some looking at. Are you—would you know how to—?”

Carlos nods, accepting the favor—then the conversation naturally slides into one of cars and racing. Carlos chronicles his journey in Formula One, his Toro Rosso days back then when he was younger, his McLaren period, and now, his time representing Ferrari. He talks of pet peeves on the grid, annoyances but also praises for the sport.

“I’d appreciate the downtime, actually,” he explains, “that I’d get from working on a car instead of in one.” He laughs, eyes briefly meeting yours. He looks away, then looks again. He can’t help himself. He wonders if he’s being obvious, if you can tell the way his looks are anything but casual. “Can you pour me a glass?” He adds.

“Yeah,” you mutter, sitting straight to pour lemonade into his waiting glass. You meet his eyes and almost pour it over the pasta. The rest of the lunch is uneventful, a series of adult conversation you can’t seem to engage yourself in fully, and whether that’s because of personal preference or Carlos’ presence, you don’t make an effort to try.

“…ney. Honey.” Your mum’s voice distracts you from your thoughts; when you look up, half the table is clear and Carlos and your dad have ventured inside to deposit plates at the sink. 

“Sorry. Wh—sorry, what?” You blink.

“Your father and I are heading out for the evening. Carlos will be working on the car. That okay, or you want to come along?”

“Um…” You pretend the latter is even an option before shaking your head. “No, I’ll stay.”

“Good.” She strokes your hair. “He could use the company.”

You follow her walking figure inside, where you station your eyes on Carlos. He’s sipping a lemonade. His eyes meet yours for a second and your face is outrageously flushed when you realize you’ve been caught staring, just like his had been earlier when he walked into your room.

—

You’re hellbent on solving a Sudoku puzzle when the dinner bell rings, and you have to finish it on the stairs. Your dad’s always been a stickler for arriving to dinner on time—every meal, but a gargantuan emphasis on the last—and you’ve been victim to scoldings about being five to six minutes late, an instance you don't wish to repeat.

9, you scribble, bare feet moving with speed through the living room, indoor dining room, then to the patio door. 4 comes next, your footsteps following the smell of grilled meat. 8, you write as you turn into the outdoor dining area. You’re halfway through 2 when you stop, look up, and find Carlos preparing dinner.

“Oh—” You pause. “You rang the dinner bell? Are my parents not…?”

“They are at a dinner,” says Carlos, eyes meeting yours briefly. It reminds you of earlier and you clear your throat, looking away. “So I hope my cooking is good enough.”

“It smells great,” you offer, seating yourself down and pouring a glass of wine. He sets the plate down—just-cut steak, a smear of potatoes. “Christ, you cook better than Dad.”

“I take that as a compliment,” he laughs, sitting across you. “Listen, I want to apologize for accidentally walking into your room earlier.”

Your face warms. “No, it’s okay. I was just surprised.”

“It was wrong of me. Let’s start over. I’m Carlos.” He reaches over to shake your hand, still standing. You take it, eyes flitting over his hand, spotting no glinting ring on his finger. With a saccharine smile, you assure him it was an honest mistake, so he segues into a different topic, the corners of his mouth turning up. “So, do you have an itinerary for me tomorrow?”

You hum, passing the wine over to him. “A bookstore, an ice cream parlor, and a bike ride. Anything else is seriously not worth it. You’ll have the next few weeks to explore town. If the house gets that boring.”

“I haven’t been bored so far,” he says, eyes glinting.

“Oh?”

“You know, with the car fixing.” He points vaguely to where the garage is. “But it’s only been a day.”

“Car fixing is boring,” you state matter-of-factly. “You’ll have fun tomorrow.” You cut into the steak and bite into the forkful you stab at, eyes fluttering.

“Good?” Carlos asks, smiling a little.

“I love it,” you mumble. “You’re so good at this, Carlos.”

Carlos retires to his room that night, and finds that today has held a collective motif of losing his shit. He’s anything but sleepy. Restless, wild-eyed, combing hand after hand through his hair. God, if he’d known you were this pretty—this hard to resist, on his first night here, no less—he would’ve been watching some DJ spin out a set with Lando right now.

Instead, he finds he can’t stop himself from thinking about you, the way your eyes had fluttered when he tried saying something on the edge of flirty. Your hair. Your hands, your fingers, lithe around the stem of your wine glass.

I love it, you’d said, you’re so good at this, Carlos. You knew exactly what you were doing, skittish tone putting him on edge. Despite himself, he can’t help but squeeze himself through his pants when he sits down on the edge of the bed, breathing heavy to purge himself of thoughts so low and dirty.

You’re so pretty. You’d be so easy to wreck, make his, goad little moans out of you, get your lips around him, puffy and pink and pretty. He wedges his eyes shut tight and hopes these thoughts will dissipate as the week passes.

Something tells him he’s wrong, though.

—

The tour is delayed because your dad insists he go fishing with Carlos three days in a row, but eventually (likely due to your mum’s insistence) it pushes through. You greet him with a smile, waiting by the door, wearing a sundress. Sundresses will definitely be his demise.

You’re a good tour guide, though, Carlos figures when you’re finished pointing at every turn and sign and dictating what goes where and where the passage to the coast is, when you’ve even quizzed him about where you are and where the house is supposed to be.

After he points in the correct direction, you nod approvingly. “That’s how my dad made sure I wouldn’t get lost,” you explain when he laughs at your choice of tour guidance. 

“And you were what—twelve?” He asks, walking beside you. It’s fairly empty in town, a few tourists mulling about carrying shopping bags and plastic cups of juice.

“Try fourteen,” you argue. 

“Well, quizzing a, uh—a fourteen-year-old is really not the same as quizzing a grown adult.”

“Ha. Call me when you can’t find your way home tonight,” you diss sarcastically, making a turn toward the bookstore down the street. “Okay, here we are. Don’t get too excited. They’re just books.”

For a relatively empty town, the bookstore always has new batches of titles, displayed proudly for natives and tourists alike front and centre. But you’re already going to the right side of the store, busying yourself with looking at the signs. 

“The classics shelf is always my favorite,” you say, already walking ahead of him. Your dress bobs softly with your legs as you pace, short and sweet and white. You turn and his eyes slide back up instantly, and he hopes he was quick enough. “Do you have any authors you like?”

“I am not a big reader. You?”

“Huge,” you say, smiling a little. “Okay, we can browse. Are you into any genre…?”

Carlos proceeds to tell you his track record in the literary field includes: reading half the Harry Potter series, a car manual, and a few other titles in Spanish he cannot recall the name or plot of. But, he adds, he’s always wanted to read, found the activity so quiet and still and perfect, so he allows you to lead him through the titles stacked on each table and condensed on each shelf. He points at, sometimes, or picks up covers he finds appealing.

“How about—?” He reaches for a pink cover that reads It Ends With Us, but your hand loops around his wrist before he can pick it up and you’re pulling him into another aisle.

“…Not that.” You continue perusing the books around you, your hand still wrapped around his. With your free finger, you point at the top shelf, and tiptoe against the bookcase to try and get it. You come close, but not close enough.

Carlos, behind you, is successful, not even needing to tiptoe to reach for the red hardbound you’d been pointing at. It also means he’s pressed up against you, heavy and big, and the sensation dizzies you. When he finally pulls it off, you turn to him and find respite in the proximity—you two are so close, every exhale out of your lips causes a puff of air to blow against his hair.

He steps backward. You smile and gesture toward the book he’s holding. “That’s a good one.”

“Gabriel Garcia Marquez.” He reads out the author’s name in one fluid sentence, his Spanish accent becoming naturally more obvious.

“Okay, colonizer.” He knits his brows. “Trust me,” you insist. “One Hundred Years of Solitude—so good. It was one of the first books I read front to back twice in a row.”

“Wow, what an honor,” he teases sarcastically as you move along the aisle, fingertips brushing against the indents of the books. You turn to narrow your eyes and stick your tongue out. Unfortunately for Carlos, the effect this inflicts upon him is not oh she mocked me, but oh how would it look if—

He needs ice cream. Or to just get out of this aisle.

—

You punctuate the day with two cones of it, melting way too fast in the heat of summer. He’s already half-finished with his vanilla, and you’re taking your time with the lemon sorbet you’d gotten for yourself. Apparently, this is the only other highlight the town has to offer, and judging by the fact that most of the other stores are expensive clothes, souvenir shops, and a Bible bookstore—yeah.

Carlos is also more than sated with the three books in the paper bag he’s holding. Scratch that—six books, you bought a haul for yourself—but it’s not a particularly heavy load, so he’s fine. His phone has been buzzing with Lando’s update requests that he’s been deliberately ignoring.

“They make the best ice cream,” you rave, smiling. You lick over the melt on your lips. “Right?”

He might actually drop his cone now. “It is delicious.”

“Well…” You look around, your hair flying with every turn of your head. Lick over lips again. Again, and again. He has to look away.

“…Do you wanna stop by anywhere else?” You turn to him and ask, licking over the tip of your ice cream cone.

It’s hard for Carlos to pretend he’s looking around your surroundings, at the signs and storefronts, and not at your sticky lips, your pink tongue just peeking out to lap at the quickly melting gelato around your hand. His eyes flit downward, to where the hem of your tiny white dress has flown up in the coastal wind, exposing more of your thighs.

“Carlos?” You repeat, voice sweet and waiting.

He snaps his eyes back up and wills his voice to remain passive. “We can head back.”

So you do, meaning your tour ends around noon, and your parents greet you both with lunch and the round of inevitable questions. Did Comporta live up to your expectations? What books did you get? Was our daughter a good tour guide? The latter, Carlos answers with a smile—very good. You allowed your face to flush, blamed it on the sangria.

Now, though, it’s the brink in-between chilly and hot, sticky traces of the summer afternoon still lingering in the air, mixing with the cool of dusk when you decide to exit your room and fix yourself a glass of something, preferably sweet and alcoholic. An empty driveway save for a Ferrari means your parents are gone, leaving you and—if you’re lucky, which you hope you are—

“Carlos,” you call out from the window you’ve just tugged open with the expertise of somebody who’s lived here for twenty-one summers. “Thirsty?”

He looks up from where he is, outside, continuing his operation on your dad’s car. The hood’s been cranked open, and his long hair is damp with sweat, flying gently in the face of the sunset breeze. He smiles when he sees your figure peeking out.

“For what?”

“Whatever you want,” you respond, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. His white shirt’s stained with oil and dirt, tainting it beige and grey, the tight fit even tighter from his sweat. You can make out the outline of his abs just underneath. 

He squints. “Beer?”

You make an exaggerated eugh face to tease him, but duck back inside to bring your homemade aperol and an open, frosty beer outside. When he sees you, he walks closer, smiles and takes a swig of the drink you offer. He makes a noise of satisfaction and you have to make a real effort to maintain a semblance of normalcy, eyes averting from his lips to gaze instead at his solid shoulders, his build, big and tall.

“What’s the problem with beer, hmm?”

“Tastes like shit.” You raise your aperol. “The sweeter, the better. How’s Dad’s car?” You blink, sidestepping him to try and gauge his progress.

“Casi termino.” You look at him, raising your eyebrows, and he translates. “Almost done. It wasn’t that destroyed, if at all.”

“You think he’ll let you drive it when you’re done?” You ask playfully, swiping your condensation-wet finger over the side of the car. You turn, smiling expectantly; Carlos laughs a bit, shrugs.

“It is just a favor. But if he does, I’ll make sure you get to come along.” He says. “You like that?”

“Mmm,” you nod, sipping on your aperol. You part from your straw, lips stained, and smile up at him. “I do.”

His gaze is stuck on your lips. You lick over them, and he looks away with a slow blink. You watch as he ruffles his hair, rounds the car and crosses his arms to view it from the back.

God, he’s handsome. You think of the long-winded nights you’ve been spending trailing your fingers over your legs or texting inspired paragraphs to friends back in university about him. Their responses are almost always Send pic now and a cacophony of heart eye emojis when you manage to snag a stolen shot of him doing just about anything.

His gaze is scrutinizing, every little detail of the car, and eventually he closes the hood again. “Should be good by tomorrow.”

“Where’d you learn to fix cars?” You ask sweetly, nearing him. The wind bites at your legs, your flowy skirt bouncing sporadically and held down by your free hand. When your eyes flit to his, waiting for his response, you find them snapping upward. He’d been distracted.

“I work with cars, so it comes natural.” You lean on the hood of the car and he comes to stand in front of you, his eyes pointed downward at you. “That’s not a very good habit,” he adds.

“Drinking?” You pout, raising your half-empty glass. You blink up at him, the corner of your smiling lip caught in your teeth.

“Biting your lip.” His gaze is intense. “You do it a lot, I noticed.”

You smile, leaning backward a little. His resolve is breaking. “Can I borrow one of the books you got earlier?”

“The three ones you bought not enough?” He raises a brow, downing beer again. Some of it dribbles out of the corner of his lip. You’ve never been one to like the taste, but you’d lick it off him if you could.

“I just wanna browse it,” you push. “I’ll return it tomorrow.”

“Fine,” he relents. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

—

He sees you the next day after lunch, which you’d skipped because you “weren’t hungry.” You’re wearing a dress, hair clipped into a bun when you excuse yourself to pick up an earring in front of him. He almost thinks it’s a fib until he sees it, the pink gem on the floor.

“Sorry,” you say, voice mellow, and then you’re bending over to pick it up. You’re wearing pretty lace panties underneath.

Carlos clears his throat and excuses himself, adjusting his shorts as he goes upstairs.

—

He gives you Norweigan Wood after dinner, like he promised earlier in the week. Two raps on your door, and when you open it, he’s already handing it to you with a quiet smile. “Goodnight,” he says, his voice clipped.

“Our tour isn’t over yet,” you tease, tossing the book onto your bed and descending the steps back downstairs. Confused and interested, he follows you, to the back area of the house, past the swinging screen door, down the steps, and onto the sand.

“Tour?” He repeats, for clarification. The only things to tour are sand and twigs.

“Yeah, Carlos. This is the real tour,” you joke, walking backwards. Every step sends your foot sinking into the cold sand, slowing your pace until Carlos catches up, matching your steps once he does. “Comporta—real and unfiltered.” You both laugh at your hyperbolic, MTV-worthy statement, and he waits for more, entertains you further.

“What is so real about this?” Carlos laughs, allowing himself to humor your little schtick.

“Well, mister. This isn’t bookstores and ice cream parlors.” You point to a nearby spot in the sand, just by a rogue stick. “This is where I smoke without getting caught. Near enough that I can run back in seconds, but faraway enough that my parents can’t immediately see what I’m doing. Granted, I don’t need to be sneaking around much, but if you ever want to do something in secret—”

The implication sends Carlos into a spiral of thought.

“—here’s your spot.”

“So you smoke,” he says when he sits himself on the sand, observing the now-dark skyline of the area. You continue pacing around a little, and when you raise your arms up to stretch, he catches a glimpse of your abdomen, the waistband of pink lace underneath the low rise of your denim shorts.

“Occasionally. Don’t play Holy Mary,” you warn, standing in front of him and stretching your hand out to reveal a box of Marlboro Reds. 

“Wasn’t planning to,” he responds, taking a stick and inserting it in between his lips. “Got a light?”

“No,” you tease, taking one for yourself and sliding your lighter out from your pocket in one quick motion. The flame illuminates your face, casts a light on your thin white tee and on the bikini top you have on underneath. You puff out a small cloud of smoke, and Carlos reaches up to take the lighter.

“I said no,” you giggle, your lips knotting into a pout. You hold the lighter just out of his reach, red and bold against the bleak evening. 

“Give it.” He sits up higher, reaches harder; he almost gets it, but you step backward and raise your arm out of reach. Again your shirt rises with the movement. The view he gets, this time, of your hips, the lace that hugs the area there, is much more close.  The laugh you emit sends a cloud of smoke out.

“No, no,” you continue, laughing, a sweet sound.

Carlos gets up, tries again to lunge for the lighter. At this point he doesn’t even care about the cigarette in between his lips, just wants to entertain you. He tries again but you’re quick with it, ducking every lunge just in time.

“Come on,” he goads, laughing himself. You pace backward, smoking, until your ankles hit the shallow shore water, water that goes deeper and deeper until you’re knee-level, still smiling at him mischievously. 

“Fine,” you relent, shrugging. You throw your hands up in surrender, in the process taking the stick out of your mouth to blow smoke out. “Do you want it? C’mere, then.” You beckon him closer, wave the lighter tantalizingly so he steps closer, closer, until you’re holding the flame to the cigarette between his lips.

He’s so tall, he has to bend a little to let you light it, his eyes meeting yours, illuminated by the pale moon and the orange of the flame.

It all goes to plan. Once you light it, you place two hands square on his shoulders, whirl him so he’s behind you and thus even deeper in the water, and with all your might, push him into the sea. 

“Brat—” he manages to gasp out as he goes, the word leaving his lips in the first and last puff of smoke he lets out. He surfaces, every dip and ridge of his abs and chest accentuated, his linen polo near invisible with how saturated it is with water. His long hair, too, sticks to his forehead; he combs it backward, reveals his amused-irritated eyes, the dead cigarette spouting seawater and ash.

He spits it out. You stare and pinch the soggy stick in between two fingers, stuffing the trash into his chest pocket. “That’s bad for the environment.”

“I am freezing,” he says in response, but you’re just stifling a laugh.

He narrows his eyes, and with unsurprising ease given his build, picks you up and carries you over his shoulder. You barely have time to protest, almost dropping your own cigarette into the water, kicking and pounding on his back to please put me down. You can feel the water getting deep, deeper, and when he finally dunks you in, it’s only a second of dryness before you’re submerged in the chilly water.

Your cigarette dies, and you manage to collect it, because you’re not in the interest of leaving your stick floating; you wedge it into your pocket.

“You’re such”—you gasp for air—“a dick!”

You’re smiling, though, flailing your legs to stay afloat. Carlos can’t help but stare, entranced with the way your eyelashes stick together, damp, the droplets of water on your cheeks, your two hands wringing saltwater out of your hair, and when you swim upward, the way your white tee leaves nothing to his imagination.

You can tell. He can tell you can tell—because the next thing you do, with some faux exaggerated sigh of annoyance, is say, “Can’t swim, too heavy,” and you’re taking off your shirt so all he sees is the red of your bikini top underneath. The white tee bobs softly with each passing wave, and you’re smiling up at him. Checkmate, you’re saying. I’ve got you. A skittish, playful smile on your lips.

“I can help you swim,” he offers—retaliates, more like, his height offering him great advantage. He finds your bare ankle underwater, guides it to wrap around his waist. Naturally, your other leg follows until you’re flush against him, held up by him so you don’t need to wag your legs around just to stay above water.

Your hands go on his still-clothed shoulders first, then eventually around them, fingers linking at the nape of his neck. Your smile is wicked. You’re so sinfully pretty. He wades deeper, holds you all the while, two big hands on either side of your waist, thumbs rubbing over your sides so you can shiver.

“‘M so wet,” you say, voice shaky with chill and laughter. His grip tightens and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to try and pretend you didn’t just say that.

He dips you underneath the surface to surprise you, and your shriek is cut off by the water—he pulls you up quick, laughing, but underestimates his strength because as he tugs, you barrel right onto him, forehead bumping his.

Your eyes are closed, and you momentarily detach from him to wipe salt out of them. “Ass.”

“Brat,” he responds.

You open your eyes to find he’s close, so close you could just lean forward an inch—an inch—and you’d be meeting his lips. You wonder how they feel, how he kisses. He’s confident everywhere else, would he kiss you like that, too? You lean closer, a wrecked gasp escaping you.

“You’re so pretty,” you say, and it’s supposed to be teasing, but your breathy voice is genuine, honest. A thumb swipes over his eyelashes, causing him to blink, then the bridge of his nose. He leans upward, tries to catch your lips, but pauses, his eyes fluttering open and closed.

“This is wrong,” he says in a quiet breath, making no move at all you stop either of you from kissing right now.

You want—need—to kiss him, but you can play the long game if he wishes to. Your eyes flit back up to his, dark brown and reflecting the moon.

“Then let’s head back,” you suggest, even if both of you want anything but.

Long game. He guides you back to shore, picks your tee up, uses it as a sieve for any loose ash and cigarette bits in your path back to shore, even finds your red lighter that’s now dispensing water. He apologizes for not having anything to dry you with, and drops you off at your room with a puddle in both of your wakes.

“Thank you again,” he says, his voice a whisper through your ajar door. He observes your room with what little vantage point he has. The posters on the wall, the art, postcards. The laptop on the bed, open. The phone charging on the nightstand. The thong hanging out of the hamper.

“No problem,” you say back, voice saccharine. Your hand wraps around his wrist. “See you tomorrow.”

Even if you’re doused in seawater, he can still smell the traces of your perfume, the summery sweet of it, when you close the door. He stays for a second, blinks, relishes in the hint of floral.

—

You spend three days walking on eggshells around each other, testing the limits of interaction.

Your night at the beach was risky, dangerous, thrilling—but it was fun, sending you both into antsy, restless trains of thought. Carlos self-medicates with coffee, beer in the afternoon, working on your dad’s car, and the first two hundred pages of the Marquez book you insisted he pick up. He spots you sometimes, lounging on the beach with his book in your grip, the waistline of your bikini bottoms leaving a tanline he can’t stop staring at when you walk back into the house.

But he can’t act on it—he was the one who labeled it wrong, the one who suppressed himself, held the urge back. He told you it was wrong. And it is wrong. He’s older, he should be wiser; he’s close with your dad; and a cacophony of other rational reasons he shouldn’t be playing into this skittish summer crush.

“Dad said the boat’s free,” a voice says, and he looks up from his book to find you standing in front of him, wearing nothing but a bikini top and a skirt, loose and riding low on your hips. Your lips stretch into a sweet smile. “Wanna come?”

He really shouldn’t. “Sí.”

So he goes. He’s thirty-five. That’s a grown age. If anything, he’s capable of making sure he stays responsible. He dog-ears his page and picks up his beer to follow you to where the boat is docked. He’d been on your dad’s yacht earlier in his trip here, to go fishing, but it’s quieter today, bobbing softly atop the water. You lie yourself down on the sunny side of the boat, sunglasses over your eyes.

“Stay anywhere you like,” you say charmingly. It’s silent for a while, Carlos seating himself on one of the lounge seats in the shaded area, and then you’re moving around on your towel.

You peer over your lenses, blinking and sitting up, and this is when he knows he can’t do it.

“Carlos,” you call out. “Can you put sunscreen on my back?” You get up again, rifling in your bag for the bottle of sunscreen, dragging a hand through your hair to comb it out. It falls in loose waves, swishing when you turn to hand him the bottle. He pretends he’d been distracted on page 210 when he accepts it, watching as you sit in front of the seat, your back turned to him, your little figure in-between his spread legs. 

A minute passes with no hand at your back. “Go ahead, move even slower,” you joke, and the tension breaks a little; he humors you, laughs and apologizes.

“It’s because hour hair is in the way,” he says, touching it gently, combing it to the side.

“Wait—” You dig through your bag again and pull out a blunt pink ribbon, slipping it into his hand. “Can you braid it for me?”

“Braid?” He doesn’t know jack shit about braiding hair. “I don’t know how.”

“At that age of yours and you don’t know anything about how to please a girl,” you whistle lowly. “Adult virgin?” 

But you guide him through it despite your teasing, teaching him to divide your hair in threes, weaving one strand over the other until “it looks half decent.” He fucks up a few times and your hair looks odd at some point, but in the end, it’s—well, it’s a braid.

“How is it?” You ask, and he can hear your smile.

He does the job well enough for a first-timer, he thinks, finishing it with the ribbon, which he ties loosely lest you’re unhappy with the finished product. It becomes easier to move your hair out of the way, and once your back is saturated with sunscreen, you unfold your legs and get up, turning around and smiling down at his sitting figure.. Loose tendrils of hair frame your face, the braid resting at your back softly, already loosening.

“Your hair can be braided, too,” you comment quietly, knotting a rogue few strands in your fingers. It hasn’t been this tense since that night at the beach, but that ended before the tension rose further—this, now, keeps going. You step closer and he leans back, smiling. “Can I?”

He blinks, nostrils flaring, then nods, his grip on your hips gentle when you sit on his lap, your legs on either side of his. You smile coquettishly, feeling how hard he is underneath you, the denim of his jeans rough against the skin of your bare thighs. Your skirt’s riding up on them with every little shift you make, just to rile him up.

Carlos drinks in the sight of you, sunkissed and on his lap, legs sprawled out, pretty little face framed, bottom lip in your teeth. You’re inviting him closer, your gaze meeting his with sleepy, demure eyes—do something. You look so fucking precious, so pretty. It makes him want to give you everything right now.

You reach forward, make an attempt to try and weave his hair together—but he grinds upward, your breath hitching and a whimper punched out of your mouth.

Your hands are shaking now, barely able to piece his hair together with how good his clothed cock feels pressed against you, where you need it most. 

“Carlos,” you gasp, and all he can really think is—where’d all your fight go? You were so used to being a brat and a half, now you’re whimpering, on the edge of begging.

“Be quiet,” Carlos grunts, digging his fingers into your hips. His other hand lifts your skirt, bunching the fabric around your hips for a better view of your cunt rubbing against the bulge in his pants. The damp fabric of your panties is swallowed between your lips with every grind you make forward and he has to stop himself from cursing out loud at the sight. “Good girl.”

Your hands move from his hair to his shoulders, sturdy and broad; you can feel him squeeze your waist with both hands, then pull you down against him, just once, so your weight presses down on the hard shape of his cock. It makes him shudder and you whine out loud. You resist the urge to grind over it; you’re already so wet you’re making a mess on his jeans.

His praise, mumbled deep and slow in your ear, gets you feeling all warm, almost ditzy. Your hips roll on their own, chasing the delicious drag of rough denim against your clit, slick soaks into and through your panties, making the material cling to the shape your folds. Carlos’ hands are rough when they wander and grope, hiking this godforsaken skirt up so he can press a thumb against the centre of your folds.

“Been so good for you, Carlos,” you whine, circling your hips against him. He can’t stop staring at your pretty, fucked-out eyes, your bitten lips. He shoves two fingers in-between them, imagines how they looked just a few days ago slick with ice cream—now your tongue is laving over his hand. The braid you'd just taught him is quickly unraveling with every nod of your head. “‘M gonna—can I—” The pleas leave you quick, your voice choked.

Euphoric, your mind lifts, foggy and saturated with pleasure, the braid almost completely undone now. His praise is so addictive, gets you worked up and needy. Come on, he says. Make a mess. His accent, his deep voice, the way it rumbles right through you—his voice drops, his touch a little heavier as he presses harder.

You gonna cum for me? His thumb rubs faster until you’re gasping, shuddering, little ahs leaving your lips. He’s got the upper hand now, but you can hear the strain, the suppression in his voice as he rubs over the soaked fabric; you feel his cock growing under you, getting harder. 

P—please—I want to—please let me, you say breathlessly, and you’ve never needed it to the point of begging before, but Carlos is different. He keeps going, doesn’t give you permission, rubbing faster, your heart hammering in your chest.

Feel good?

Y—yeah, you whimper, trying your best not to fall apart here, on your dad’s boat, where anybody could walk on—or maybe see you from afar, humping your dad’s friend in broad daylight. He loves watching you like this; you’ve somehow become even prettier, face flushed and voice shaky.

Come on, he goads. Be a good girl. Cum for me.

It’s the only instruction that matters to you right now, your body seizing with it and cute little moans escaping you as you finish. You catch your breath against his chest, craving warmth even if it’s hot—maybe you’re craving him, his touch, Carlos, just Carlos. You maneuver yourself so legs, exhausted from shaking, are on one side of his body—he holds you close, humming.

He rubs a steady hand across your lower back, gentle and firm and you want him so much more now. “Are you okay?” He asks. “Talk to me.”

“Perfect,” you pant against his polo, fingers playing with the stitching, tugging the collar down so you can mouth at his skin. His hand plays with what’s left of the braid, winds the pink ribbon around his fingers. “Let’s go for a swim.”

—

“And we drove the jet ski around, too,” you say gleefully, your damp hair bobbing with every move of your head. Your face is sunkissed, a little sore from being in the sun for most of the afternoon. Carlos laughs along from where he is at the grill—he’s cooking for dinner, on a quest to make burgers because he’s known for making the best ones back in Madrid, apparently. Your dad, of course, insists on joining, and the two have been asking and answering questions while you and your mum sip rosé at the table.

“Did you have fun?” Your mum asks, her head turning to address Carlos.

“Yeah, tons,” he replies with a smile, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second. You know what he means. It’s been only two days since the afternoon on the boat, and since then you’ve mostly swam and ridden around on the jet ski with Carlos—nothing more.

“See, sweetie,” she adds, placing a hand over yours. “I told you this summer would be fun with him around!”

“Mmm, yeah,” you say, nodding and parting from your glass, “I can really count on him for some excitement.” The statement catches his attention and he almost trails off, eyes returning to yours, before he continues speaking in Spanish to your dad about something or other.

The burgers’ reputation precedes them, and is warranted, you learn later when you’re biting into it for the first time. The remainder of dinner passes by in lively conversation, the sun setting low underneath the Comporta horizon, wine taking the place of rosé. Carlos mentions the racing world again, about how he’ll be back into the thick of it sooner than later, and you pulse with something akin to sadness.

Your parents, apparently so grateful for the blessing that is Carlos’ burgers, offer to clean up and before long, they retreat to their downstairs bedroom. Upstairs, you marinate in your thoughts, blinking up at your ceiling, twining your pink ribbon around your fingers as your hair dries splayed over your bedding. You let your arm down, in the process bumping your elbow against a hard surface.

Upon investigation, you find it’s a copy of Norweigan Wood. 

Carlos is at his desk, taking a timezone-separated call about simulation and season prep, when two soft knocks go at his door and it creaks open. He turns the chair away from the desk to see who it is. An ankle steps in first, then more leg, and then you—in a lovely, pretty pink lace dress, your face illuminated by the moonlight outside. One hand clutches a copy of his book; the other, the ribbon he’d used on your hair earlier.

He’s nursing a bottle of beer, just to help ease the drag of the day, and he watches you approach him, your footsteps quiet against the hardwood of the floor. Wait, he mouths, finishing the call in a hushed tone, and when he hangs up you approach him again.

“I thought you should have this back,” you say, offering him the book. Your eyes rake over him, wearing the same getup he’d worn to dinner—denim jeans, because he’d ducked out to buy food, except he’s ridden himself of his shirt. 

He takes the book, places it on the table, continues staring up at you. “And I thought you should keep this.” The ribbon, pale pink, is now looped around his wrist and tied into a delicate ribbon at the apex of it. You admire your handiwork with a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

You lean down, face just shy of his. “We shouldn’t,” he manages to eke out, his voice strained.

“But you want to,” you respond softly. “No one’s going to know. Our little secret.”

His eyes are shut, contemplating, and then he’s kissing you—the only thing you’ve wanted, craved, touched yourself to the thought of over the course of the summer. You reciprocate immediately, parting your lips to let him kiss you deeper, a whimper leaving your mouth. He kisses like he knows he’s a good kisser, and he really is. His scent is intoxicating, a drug, sending arousal and desire straight through you.

You part, eyes half-lidded as you stand straight again. You cock your head slowly to the side, and with your head’s movement your hair follows, gathering on one side. It exposes much of your shoulder and collarbones, which lay underneath the thin lace dress you wear to sleep, and which is now subject to Carlos' unwavering stare. He has no shame, eyes raking over you, up and down and back up. One hand curled around a bottle of beer, the other coming up to slowly graze the back of your thigh.

Your breath hitches. “Do you like the dress?” You ask softly, teasingly. It’s nothing special, Carlos, you seem to say; it’s just a nightie.

His hand is rough against the thin skin of your leg, traveling upward. He gives you a nod in response; he does like it, the sheer material, the pink color, the loose way it hugs your body. Roughly, he voices his assent. “Come sit on my lap.”

“Wait,” you say, pouting. Your knee rubs softly against the material of his jeans, and you slowly sink onto your knees, hands placing themselves on your thighs. His grip goes from the back of your thigh to your hair, combing it softly, cradling your face. 

“Let me,” you say, letting your silence imply everything unsaid. He’s going crazy, losing his mind.

“So pretty,” he says, nodding. his voice thin. “Go ahead, baby.”

The petname gets you dizzy. You lean forward, resting your face on the hard bulge in his pants, smiling up at him. You’ve got these big, doe eyes, begging him, and he’s not so sure he even has the upper hand anymore—he would do anything you asked, any request that left those pretty bitten lips. He gathers your hair in two hands, forms a messy, unclean braid, crisscross at the back of your head just so he has something to grip while he fucks your throat.

You make quick, deft work of unbuttoning his jeans, and he watches, leaned back on the chair, legs spread wide with bent knees on either side of your body, caging you in. Carlos’ eyes are half-lidded, a hand at your braid, bringing his beer to his lips, swallowing before he sets it onto the adjacent desk.

His cock is big—thick, intimidating—and you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to fit the whole thing in your mouth without choking. It twitches in your palms the longer you stroke him, precum weeping from the head and slicking up your palms. Gruff expletives, in Spanish and English, slip past his gritted teeth and the sounds travel directly to your core, causing you to instinctively press your thighs together to soothe the ache blossoming there.

You take head of his cock into your mouth, feel it roll over your tongue, heavy and warm. Drool gathers in your mouth and your fingers dig into the muscle of his thighs in anticipation. The hand wound around your braid, pressed against your head, presses heavier slowly, slotting the first few inches of cock into your mouth while avoiding the back of your throat. You relax, letting your lips seal around the length, cheeks hollowing and tongue lulling at the underside. He curses.

You continue bobbing your head, lewd noises leaving your mouth with every move you make; it embarrasses you, but also sends slick gushing out of you.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when the tip of his cock grazes the back of your throat; you cough, fingers heavy as they dig into the flesh of his still-denim clas thighs; drool trickles onto his balls. The hand remains there, though, pushing you and keeping you pinned in place as he slowly thrusts upward. You haven’t even gotten him all the way.

You gag and sputter, eyes fully watering the harder Carlos bullies his cock into your throat; you’re dizzy with arousal and submission, maybe one, maybe both, you’re too far gone.

“Easy,” he orders, and you will yourself to breathe nasally, relaxing, burying more of him in you. He loves seeing you like this, hair all pretty—his braid, too—and on your knees, trying your best to please him. “Being so good for me, good girl,” he says, losing resolve. You’re so pretty when you cry, eyes rimmed and bloodshot, tear streaks all over your cheekbones.

He ruts shallowly into your throat, every move punctuated by a guttural gag from your end—once, twice, a third time, before finally he releases you. You let out a cough, and a gasp, breathy, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. He doesn’t want to cum yet—not like this. You gaze up at him, big eyes anticipating, and he guides you upward, on the bed.

He kicks his jeans off and readjusts his briefs, watches you scramble to position yourself on the bed, sitting down properly. “Will you fuck me now?” You ask, your sweet voice raspy. He likes knowing he’s the reason why.

You inch yourself backward so you’re fully on his bed, a hand traveling to stop your tiny dress from riding up any further. He steps closer, one knee on the bed, caging you in again, and stops you. His gaze flickers down to your legs, forces your knees apart so he can see in between them. Your pretty cunt’s soaked through your panties. “Don’t hide from me,” he says, voice rough as he steps back off the bed and kneels beside it.

“Carlos,” you breathe, letting him have his way with you. Your mind’s all fuzzy, but it’s okay—he takes care of you. 

Strong arms snake around your thighs and pull you toward him until your cunt is level with his face. His breath, warm, fans against you, muted by the thin fabric of your panties and it does nothing to help the unadulterated, dirty arousal throbbing in your cunt. He bites at the flesh of your inner thigh, then hooks two fingers into your panties and pulls them aside.

The taste of you is so good; it goes straight to Carlos’ head. And all of your embarrassed, whiny whimpers, the way your fingers knot helplessly into his hair as he drags his tongue up your cunt — that drives him absolutely crazy. He licks at your pussy, sticks his tongue in, nudges your clit with his nose, ekes whimpers and debauched moans out of your lips.

He pushes two fingers into you, doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s fucking them in and out, moans spilling out of you involuntarily. It’s lewd, it’s dirty, getting his friend’s daughter all spread out for him like this, but Carlos loves it. More, you sob, more, please, I need—yeah—

His skilled tongue doesn’t let up, continues toying with you, licking up all the arousal oozing out of your cunt. He eats you, fucks you with his fingers, until your eyes are welling up with overwhelm and the need to release, your hands pulling at his long hair—your pussy dripping, quivering, right at the edge of your orgasm.

Any of the reservations you had are now out the window. Your grip on Carlos’ hair is tight, pushing his head deeper into your pussy and grinding against his mouth mindlessly.

I’m cumming—!

Your voice is so dirty, so lewd, so needy, when you finally finish around him, slick dripping out and your pussy twitching, clenching and unclenching around nothing as you release. Panting, you hoist yourself on your elbows, your braid surprisingly intact, and pout down at him.

“I said fuck me.”

“So you complain,” he responds with a coy smile, his lips shiny with your slick. You want him to fuck you stupid.

He does eventually, gets you all calm and lying down on the bed, knees to your chest. Your feet cross and uncross with anticipation. He lets his cock rest first on your stomach, where it twitches, smearing precum under your belly button.

“That’s where you’ll be,” you say, stroking him. When he finally does begin thrusting into you, he wishes he could save the image of your pretty eyes fluttering closed, puffy lips open in a whimper.

Your legs tremble with the size you’re taking, his hand gentle as it is firm on your hips, forcing you to take him, take him good, take him better. Good girl, he’s saying, good fucking girl. Inch by inch, you struggle to take all of him, his girth thicker than what your cunt is willing to take. You’re positive you’ll feel him in your stomach.

“Carlos,” you whimper, voice aching.

“Fuck,” is all he can muster, watching your pussy swallow him. “So tight.”

He’s drunk on the feeling of you, wet and clenching around him, so tight. He can tell you’re high on it too, on the stretch of him, the way you keep trying to meet every thrust, legs already beginning to tremble with pleasure and deep arousal. He bottoms out, an expletive leaving him in Spanish, and then slowly begins to fuck in and out of you.

He watches your face, the way your brows knit as you take him, take his cock, eyelides fluttering. “So good,” you moan, mouth open. He drops a glob of spit onto your tongue, tells you to swallow—you do, presenting your empty tongue to him. Good girl, prettiest girl—any and all praise leaves him in dizzy, heady breaths.

“Teasing me for so long,” he pants, his dick splitting you in half. “This what you wanted? Hmm?”

But even in your cloudy mind, you find the grit to retaliate, teasingly, a cloy smile on your lips. “You said it was wrong,” you gasp out with every thrust. “Fucking your friend’s daughter.”

“But you love it,” Carlos goads. “Do you?”

You nod, cockdrunk, but it’s not enough. “Use your words, pretty. You can do it.”

“I do, I love it. I need more,” you whine, getting off on his teasing, on the implication that this is all wrong, that neither of you should be doing this. “Needed this so much, Carlos.” You crack your eyes open to watch the bulge in your abdomen, the shape of his girth splitting you open. He slams into you harder and you try to squirm away, but he keeps you pinned in place.

“And if your dad walked in?”

You gush slick all over him. “Carlos,” you plead.

“Saw his daughter taking his friend’s dick?” He says it low into your ear, bending to make sure you hear all of it. “Taking it like a good girl, too.” He pulls out, slaps your ruined hole with his dick, then shoves it in deep again, groaning when you cry out—getting off on you whining about how sensitive you are, the way you tremble under him and around him. Your pretty little face, all sweaty and ruined.

“I’m gonna—fuck—I’m, Carlos—I’m gonna cum,” you say, nodding. You’ve probably cum twice already, little bursts of pleasure causing your cunt to twitch around him, sensitive. “Can I—?” 

“That’s it,” he praises. “Come on, cum for me. Been so good for me.” You tremble around him as you finish, broken moans fucked out of you with every surge of his hips forward.

He’s close, too, having held off fucking you for the past how many days, and you can tell; his thrusts get shallower, faster, until his hips are stuttering and he’s panting your name out, long hair framing his flushed, pretty face. You reach up to comb a hand through it. “Cum inside me,” you beg, watching him go crazy, his nostrils flaring and eyes blinking quick. 

He pumps his cum into you, thrusting several times as he rides it out, fucking you full of him, of his cum. You relish in the feeling, of being his girl, his good girl. “You’re a mess,” he comments, his face buried into your neck. He pulls out, both of you sighing at the sight and feeling of his cum dribbling out of you, onto the bed.

You unfold your legs, sitting up despite how sore you feel. Your dress is damp with sweat, and slick, and cum. “I feel a mess.” You pout.

“You look pretty.”

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You ask, voice meek. He nods, holds you tight as you both drift off, like he knows that you won’t be his to call his by the time the summer wanes and Comporta is left empty again.

—

“It’s the post-race interview,” Ali calls. “Hurry!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” You hop into the living room, tossing her the bag of popcorn she’d requested you to cook. Fall has officially dawned upon the city, adorning it with orange and red leaves, jazz music and cold nights—and weekends watching races.

Around you, all your university friends watch with intense gazes at the winner of the latest Formula One grand prix—something none of you had been remotely interested in just months prior.

You watch, eyes glittering, at the winner. Tan skin, long hair, jogging over to the journalist. Sainz, what a stellar drive! She sounds awestruck, genuinely taken aback by his dominance on the track today. She asks for a message in Spanish, as always; a few words of inspiration, and then, just as a fun little tidbit—did you have a good luck charm today?

He smiles to himself, like he’s just heard an inside joke and seems to think for a minute. “No, not really.” Then he combs a hand through his hair. There, looped around his wrist, is a pretty, pale pink ribbon.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

The In Between

Season Three Episode Two

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader (Aaron Hotchner’s Sister)

Words: 4708

Series Masterlist

Summary: Spencer tries to hold himself together while facing the unthinkable. Aaron waits helplessly at a different hospital. The reader finds herself in the space between life and death with a difficult choice. 

Notes: You have no idea how cool I thought I was to use this title. Anyway, thank you guys so much for the support for season three coming out! I am currently working on part two, but all of part one will be posted in the next few weeks! Keep letting me know what you think! Lots of love- Erin

-

They tried to stop him. Every nurse and doctor on the floor had attempted to prevent him from leaving, as well as his co-workers, but even the bullet hole in his leg couldn’t slow him down. 

Morgan drove while Prentiss directed them to the correct hospital. 

They weren’t even sure it was you. 

Female. Admitted for multiple stab wounds three hours after Hotch was admitted at Saint Sebastian. 

But Spencer knew. Despite all of his logic and all of his reasoning, the feeling in his twisting gut told him that this was it. 

According to what Garcia could find, the patient had been taken into surgery and had been there ever since, trying to repair the damage and loss of blood. 

You could be flatlining right now and he was still limping his way out of the parking lot. 

“Reid, slow down man,” Morgan warned. “If you bust that wound open-”

“I don’t care,” Reid snapped. “Just help me inside.” He put an arm around Morgan’s shoulders and the other agent lifted some of the weight off of Reid’s injured knee without arguing. Morgan wanted to find out just as badly as Reid did, but most of all, he was pissed. 

Foyet had put his credentials on Hotch. 

This was a message for the whole team. 

It said none of them was untouchable.  

“Sir what are you-” A nurse approached the struggling duo, but Prentiss cut her off. 

“We’re looking for a woman admitted under the name Y/F/N Hotchner? She was taken to surgery for multiple stab wounds. We just need to know what’s going on,” she explained. 

The nurse looked at them skeptically. “Are you family?” 

“We’re with the FBI-” Prentiss started, but she cut her off. 

“Miss Hotchner is in no state to be questioned.”

Spencer stepped forward, almost stumbling. 

“I’m her fiance.” 

Prentiss and Morgan glanced at each other in shock. 

Spencer continued. “We work with her brother. He is unable to be here because he was a victim of the same attack, but was taken to a different hospital. Now please,” he begged. “Where is she?” 

Looking into his frantic eyes, she believed him.

“Follow me.” 

The tiled floor seemed to stretch on forever. Every step sent pain up his leg and every second felt like hours. Morgan helped him down the hall until they reached the room. Reid pushed away, using the door frame to hold himself up as his heart sank into his stomach. 

Your skin had gone deathly pale, your eyes were closed, and the heart monitor droned its mocking song back at him. 

“It’s been touch and go for a while now,” the nurse sighed. “She’d lost so much blood by the time anyone found her… the doctors have done everything they can.” 

“Is she going to be okay?” Emily asked, eyes unable to tear away from the sight of you in that bed. She hardly even recognized you, the bruises on your face and the machines attached to your body. 

The nurse gave them a small, but reassuring smile. “We’re doing everything we can.” 

Spencer winced, forcing his feet forward to the chair beside the bed, allowing himself to collapse into it. His hand found yours, nearly pulling away from the shock of your cold skin. 

“We were finally happy again,” he whispered, choking back the sobs threatening to spill over. Spencer let his head fall beside your hand as he cried. 

He didn’t move after that. 

-

You woke up gasping. 

Phantom pains rattled your chest, the image of the knife piercing your stomach still lingering in your mind. But the longer you laid there, eyes slowly adjusting, you realized that you weren’t injured at all. Shapes came into focus. You weren’t in Aaron’s apartment. And you definitely weren’t in a hospital. Wherever you were it was… bright. 

Light streamed in the double glass doors leading onto the back patio. Curtains swayed in the slight breeze coming in through the open window. Even as you blinked with blurred vision, you knew where you were from the cool tile beneath you- a feeling you’d committed to memory the last time you were here. 

Home. 

You bolted upward, kicking your legs to push yourself back into the nearest wall, a scream caught in your throat. 

“This isn’t real. This isn’t real. I’m not here. I can’t be here,” you gasped. 

You checked your torso again, expecting blood and sliced flesh, but there was nothing. Even your shirt was intact. 

“Wait.” You tugged at the teal fabric. “This is what I was wearing when-”

“When you died?” A voice finished for you. “Well, almost.” 

You lifted your gaze and felt like you were being stabbed all over again. 

“T-Tabby?” 

The blonde teenager winked at you. “Surprise.” 

She stepped toward you and you tried to back away, pressing yourself against the wall as you started to hyperventilate.

“Okay, I knew you’d freak out, but I didn’t think it’d be this bad,” she scoffed. “Chill out Girlscout, it’s just me.” 

Girlscout. She was the only person you ever let call you that. She always said it was because you always played by the rules, always worked so hard to prove to everyone you could do it. She teased you, but you knew she really meant it as a compliment. She always rooted for you. She was your best friend. 

“Am I dead?” You asked, voice cracking. 

She opened her mouth to answer, but another presence entered the room. 

“No, sweetheart.” Your mother stood at the top of the stairs. “Not yet.” 

Tabby rolled her eyes. “Could you have phrased that any creepier?” 

Lydia was at the base of the stairs in a blink. 

“Welcome home, Y/N.” She reached a hand out to you. 

You leaped to your feet. 

“Stay away from me.” Your eyes darted between them. “B-both of you.” 

“Great,” Tabby said. “You’ve freaked her out.”

“How did I get here?” Your mind raced as everything came back to you. Every stab, every suppressed scream. Foyet’s laughter. You froze. “Where’s Aaron? Where’s my brother?” 

The last thing you remembered was watching his eyes close, his blood coating the floor beside you. 

“Your brother?” Lydia snapped. “You don’t have a brother. You have me. You only need me.” 

“Seriously, enough with the crazy killer talk,” Tabby groaned, walking toward you. “Believe me, we get it.” She crossed her arms and gave you that look. The look that meant she knew something you didn’t but was dying to tell you. “Ignore her. She doesn’t want you to know.” 

You eyed her, crossing your arms in a similar fashion. “Doesn’t want me to know what?” 

“Tabitha-”

“You have a choice,” Tabby said. “You can wake up or… you can sleep. It’s up to you.” 

Your throat went dry and your heart raced. 

Only, no it didn’t. 

You put a hand to your neck, looking for a pulse. 

It wasn’t beating at all. 

-

JJ hadn’t left Hotch’s side all night. She left only to receive updates from Prentiss and would return trying to keep her expression neutral. 

You were alive. That’s what mattered. 

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” Hotch sighed. He hated that he was stuck in this bed. He should be there, with you. “Pretending like nothing is going on.”

JJ swallowed. “The doctor said that you have to rest and that means staying calm.”

“Jennifer,” Hotch pleaded. “Please. I have to know what’s happening.” 

I’m going to take my time with her, Aaron. I’ll gut her first and then I’ll find someone else to visit. The one that got away from you, huh? 

“JJ,” Rossi stood in the doorway. He gave her a grim nod. “I’ll talk to him.” 

The blonde agent gave Hotch a small smile and left to let his old friend be the bearer of bad news. One look at the older man’s face and Hotch knew. 

“She’s hanging on,” Rossi said slowly, taking the chair beside the hospital bed. “Reid’s with her. He probably busted up his knee again, but even Morgan couldn’t stop him from going.” 

“Where did they find her?” 

Rossi blinked. “Foyet took her to the other side of town. Left her at a bus stop that isn’t part of any night routes so nobody found her until a few hours ago.” He kept his tone level like he was going over the details of any other case. That’s what Aaron needed. The facts. Facts he could hold onto. 

“How many?” Aaron asked. He knew he didn’t have to elaborate.

Dave sighed. “Sixteen.” 

Aaron didn’t say anything. He stared in front of him, outwardly numb but inwardly agonizing. You wouldn’t survive. You couldn’t. He stabbed you sixteen times and left you to rot. The Reaper left you to die. Aaron left you to die. 

“It isn’t your fault, Aaron,” Dave said softly. 

“Don’t.” Aaron shook his head, the image of his little sister gasping on her own blood lingering in his mind. 

Dave pulled the chair up closer. “That’s what Foyet wants you to think. He wants to get in your head. He wants to make sure you never find him.” 

“I know,” Hotch swallowed. 

“We’re going to get him.”

“I know.” 

The two sat for a while, as they often did, not saying anything. Dave knew there was nothing he could say to change the situation, no matter how much he wanted to. Aaron knew there was nothing he could do to save you.

They just had to wait. 

- 

“Great,” Tabby sighed. “Now she’s freaking out.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart.” Lydia held out her arms. 

You stumbled away, fingers still pressed to your silent pulse. Your hand started to shake. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real.”

“Of course, it’s real, Y/N.” Your mother walked towards you. “This is what was always meant to happen.”

“Were you always this creepy?” Tabby scoffed. “I don’t remember you being this creepy.”

Lydia’s head snapped toward the younger woman. “That’s enough.” She held up her hand and Tabby disappeared. 

You couldn’t help but scream. 

The house started to shake. 

“Y/N, you need to calm down,” Lydia said softly. “If you don’t, you won’t get much of a choice.” She took a seat on the couch and motioned for you to join her. “Come on, I want to talk to you.” 

Breathing heavy, scream still lingering on your tongue, you stared at her. 

“What could we possibly have to talk about?” You snapped, keeping to the other side of the room. 

“Plenty, sweetheart.” Lydia motioned again to the seat across from her. “Plenty. Please.” 

You stared at her. Your breath would have caught in your throat, had you really been breathing. She looked the same. Not the way the pictures had shown her on the news. Not the way she’d looked at the trial, all dressed in orange. She wore her favorite sundress and a smile that used to calm your nerves before every big test. 

She looked like your mom. 

You shook your head. 

“No,” you said firmly. “No, I want to get out of here.” 

“Y/N, I wouldn’t do that-” Your mother started, but you’d already grabbed onto the latch to the back door. 

But when you swung it open, all you saw was light. 

-

“Hey, kid.” Morgan’s voice pulled Spencer out of his trance. He held a pair of coffees. “Thought you could use some.”

“Thanks,” Spence muttered, rubbing his tired eyes. He turned back to you. “Did they say anything?”

Morgan took the chair across from him on the other side of the bed. “Not since you asked ten minutes ago.” He leaned forward. “She’ll be okay, Spencer.”

“She suffered lacerations to her kidneys, chest, and major arteries.” Spencer repeated the words the doctor had said with equal mechanical distance. “They said she’s lucky to still be alive.”

“Y/N’s a fighter.” Morgan glanced at your face. “She’ll get through this.” He took a long drink of his coffee, the tightness in his chest making it hard to swallow as he thought. She has to. 

Spencer nodded, trying to internalize his team member’s words. “She’ll get through this,” he echoed, his voice holding more emotion now, on the verge of breaking. 

That’s when the flatline hit. 

Spencer’s blood ran cold, his heart sinking down, down, down. 

“Y/N?” He said, gripping your arm tight enough to leave a mark. “Y/N!”

“We need a doctor in here!” Morgan called out. 

Everything he’d ever learned, everything he’d studied left Spencer’s mind like a gushing wound. All that was left was panic. 

“Please,” he begged. He brought your hands to his lips. “No.”

Morgan’s hands found his arms, pulling him back. 

He fought against him, needing to stay by your side despite all of his logic telling him to let the doctors work. They were your chance. Not him. 

“Y/N!” He cried out again. 

His body went limp. Between the pain and the shock, everything just passed in a blur. 

Morgan succeeded in dragging him back and the two stood in horror as the frenzy in front of them fought to keep you alive. 

“Clear!” 

-

You woke up in the same place. The place where you thought you were going to die. 

Gasping, you shot up, eyes scanning the living room over and over again to try and find a change. Something that indicated that you were getting somewhere. 

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” your mother chided, sitting in the same spot on the couch she was before. She held out her hand. “Come. Sit.” 

You leaped to your feet and moved as far away as you could, bumping into the bookshelf on the back wall. You knocked over your old ice-skating trophy. 

“I’m not going anywhere near you.”

“Please, don’t you think that’s a little immature, sweetheart?” 

“Stop it.” You ran a hand down your face, pinching the bridge of your nose to try and wake up from this nightmare. “Stop acting like you’re my mother.” With your fists clenched at your sides and took a step forward. “None of this is real.”

“We talked about this already, Y/N. Of course, this is real.”

“You can’t be here. I can’t be here.” You searched for another escape, but all of the windows had the same bright light that consumed you before. 

“You’re thinking about that man you met, aren’t you?” Lydia stood up. Brows drawn together, her lips formed a thin line. “The drug addict?” 

You snapped your head around, eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare. You don’t get to talk about Spencer. You don’t get to talk about my life after you tried to destroy it.” 

“I tried to save you. The same way I’m trying to save you now.” Her face softened. “And I think you know that.”

Lydia walked towards you. 

This time, you didn’t back away. 

“I know that you were a broken woman who almost broke me.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” She reached a hand toward your face. “Why do you think you’re here?” 

You stared blankly at her, an icy chill passing up your spine. “What are you talking about?”

“What was it that you asked that Agent Morgan? To stop you from becoming me by any means, right?” She motioned around you. “This is your chance. This is your way out.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but found that you couldn’t. 

Maybe this wasn’t about her trying to save you. Maybe this was about you saving everyone else. 

-

Spencer sat at your side once again, looking more like a ghost than a person. He was bent over, holding your hand to his lips, his eyes switching between your face and the heart monitor. He kept hearing that sound. The horrible sound that meant your beautiful heart had stopped beating. 

Derek and Emily stood outside, watching him grimly. 

“They said she’s stable now?” Emily asked. 

He shrugged. “For now. They didn’t tell Reid this, but one of her kidneys is apparently in bad shape. Between the wounds and her past with alcohol…” He trailed off. Just thinking about it made every part of him ache. 

“Do they think she needs a transplant?” 

“They’re checking to see how severe the issue is, but-” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It isn’t looking good.” 

Emily nodded, looking through the glass at Reid’s huddled form. 

He was a husk, the dark circles under his eyes competing with the redness of crying. 

She couldn’t look anymore. 

-

You didn’t know what to say. All of the fear and doubt and self-loathing filled your head like a tap turned on full. And your mother stood in front of you as the embodiment of it all. 

“You don’t belong there, honey,” she said, her tone sweet and sympathetic. “You know that. Why else would you have run away? You don’t want to hurt Spencer or your father’s son.”

“His name is Aaron and he’s nothing like my father.”

Lydia flinched but continued her coaxing voice. “You want to protect them, right? I can help you. You just have to let me.” 

“I don’t want your help.” Your voice shook, almost cracking. “I’m better now. I’m-” You looked down at your finger. It was bare. 

You hadn’t even gotten the chance to get a ring. 

“Can you marry a man you’re afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of Spencer.” 

“Maybe not.” Lydia’s hand covered yours. “But you’re afraid of what you’ll do.” 

You could feel every word sinking into you like claws, raking across your brain until you couldn’t think of anything else, no matter how hard you tried. 

“Alright,” Tabby’s voice returned. She sat on the kitchen counter. “My turn.” 

-

Penelope didn’t know where to go first. Split between two hospitals, she decided to call Derek and check in on Y/N while she visited Hotch. 

“I’ve never wished to be in two places so much in my life,” she said, finding JJ by the vending machine. “But with Morgan and Reid and Emily there, I thought-”

“I’m glad you made it.” JJ pulled her into a hug. To be honest, she was barely holding herself together. 

“How is he?” 

JJ sighed. “Worried.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “But the doctors say she’ll be okay.”

“Derek said that-” Penelope’s words caught in her throat. “He tried to be reassuring, but…”

“I know.” JJ checked around the doorway to make sure Hotch wasn’t listening. He was talking to Rossi. “I called earlier. Prentiss said it doesn’t look good.”

Penelope lifted a hand to her lips to cover a cry. “Who’s going to tell Hotch?” 

Rossi turned his head and saw the grim expression on both women’s faces. He glanced at Hotch. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

He stood and walked over to JJ and Garcia, feeling the unit chief’s eyes burning into the back of his head. 

“Please tell me there’s good news.” 

JJ swallowed. “Not exactly.”

-

Tabby hopped off of the counter. 

Your mother grimaced. “Tabitha…”

“No, you’ve said enough, lady.” She pointed at you. “Now it’s time for a little girl talk.” Tabby skipped over to you like this was just another slumber party, smiling that knowing smile she always did when she wanted you to spill a secret. “I want to hear all about this guy! You’re getting married.”

“I really don’t think now is the time for this,” Lydia said. 

“And I really wanted to go to prom with Tony Bryan,” Tabby snapped, giving her the typical teenage eye roll. “I can’t believe you’re engaged.”

Her enthusiasm was like getting hit with ice water. It pulled you out of the depths Lydia had been dragging you into. As if blinking out of a trance, you smiled. 

“Spencer is great.” For that moment, you almost felt like a kid again, eager to share the details with your best friend. “He’s brilliant and sweet, and… and perfect…” You looked out of that blinding window, realization watching over you. “And he’s waiting for me.” 

“Waiting for a life you can never have together,” Lydia said, cutting in. “Not really. Between your jobs and the danger you’ve already been in since seeing him- how long before it catches up to you? Or to him?”

You lowered your head. 

The Cunninghams. 

The cult in Colorado. 

The anthrax. 

Foyet. 

And those were just the more memorable ones. And then you had support. You had Spencer. You had the team. Now you just felt alone. 

You froze. 

You weren’t alone. 

“Aaron,” you gasped. “Aaron was with me. Aaron was hurt. I have to find out what happened to him.”

Images of blood. The sound of him trying to reassure you. It was all coming back. 

Foyet’s laughter. 

“He let this happen to you. It’s his fault.” Lydia stood up, running her fingers through her hair. She stood rigid and began to pace. Just like she had when you came home cut from the hockey skates. 

A surge of protective anger rushed through you. 

“You don’t get to pin this on my brother. Aaron tried to save me.”

“He is just like his father.” She repeated it over and over again, her pacing seeming to make the whole house shake. 

You turned to Tabby and gave her a small smile. “I know what I want now.”

The front door opened. 

-

You’d gotten back from surgery nearly an hour ago. 

They hadn’t told him much. Just that you needed a transplant and a doner had stepped forward. Now they just had to wait and see if it worked. 

Spencer Reid did not believe in anything beyond the scope of his science and logic and knowledge. But in that moment, he pleaded to you- even though he knew you could hear- he prayed that you would come back. 

“I left you a message, you know,” he whispered. Running his thumb across your knuckles, he memorized every detail, every line in your skin. “When I contracted the anthrax virus. I had Garcia record a message for my mom. And I had her record one for you.” 

Your motionless form didn’t change, the shallow movement of your chest remaining just that. Slow. Short.

“I-” The words died on his tongue. He took a shaking breath. “I wanted you to know how much I loved you, even after everything happened.” Spencer tried to remember the exact message, but all he could think about was a knife cutting through you over and over again. But he knew what mattered from it. “I love you, Y/N. I knew that day that if I survived, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.” A tear slipped down his cheek. “Please don’t leave. Please.” 

If he could have forced his words to heal you, he would have talked until he couldn’t anymore. 

Instead, he cried.

“Don’t tell me those are for me.” 

A soft touch wiped away the tears on his cheek. 

Spencer looked up. 

“Hey, handsome.” You gave him a small, weak smile. “I was hoping you’d be here when I woke up.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he beamed, leaning over to kiss your forehead. 

Just the touch of his lips on your skin sent waves of relief through you. 

You were here. 

You were alive. 

“I knew I had to come back,” you muttered. “I knew I had to get back to you.” 

“And you did.” Tears fell down Spencer’s cheeks and into your hair. “You came back.” Spencer kissed his way down to your lips, every movement as gentle as possible. And despite his soft touch, he held you as if you’d slip away. Like he was praying to keep you this time. 

“What happened?” You asked, finally noticing the crutches leaning against the wall. 

Spencer shook his head. “It’s a long story. A lot happened this week.” He rested his forehead against yours. 

You pulled back suddenly, eyes wide. 

“Where’s Aaron?” You asked. “Where’s my brother?” 

-

Several healing days later

It was too dangerous to move you. The doctors made that very clear and it took Spencer’s pleading to keep you in that bed. Aaron was in the same situation. While you were both stable, your separate care teams insisted that you would both have to wait to see each other. And, despite Spence and everyone's reassurances that you were both okay, it was something you needed to see to truly believe. 

“Here, be careful,” Spence said, helping you into the wheelchair. 

“Don’t you think this is a little ridiculous?” 

“You know what’s more ridiculous? Opening your stitches because you can’t sit still.” He eased you down and kissed the top of your head. “It’s just until we get to the car, okay?”

“If I can walk after we get to the car, I can walk before we get to the car.” 

Spencer put his hands on his hips, tucking his crutches under his arms. “Do you want me to take you to see Hotch or not?” 

You glared up at him, but didn’t argue. You crooked your finger, beckoning him down to you, and pulled him into a kiss. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Emily stood in the doorway, her hand subconsciously resting behind her back over the large bandage on her side. 

You beamed. “There’s my savior! I’ve been wondering if you’d stop by today.”

“Please,” she waved her hand, “what do I need two kidneys for anyway?”

Spencer looked at her over your head and mouthed ‘Thank you.’

When you’d both found out that she had been your mysterious donor, you didn’t know how to thank her. 

She said avoiding any life-threatening situations in the near future would be thanks enough. 

“Are you ready to get out of this place?” She asked. 

You nodded, laughing. The motion made you wince. 

Spencer immediately knelt at your side. “Are you okay? Do we need to stay a little longer? I’ll get the doctor.”

You grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare. I’m not waiting any longer.” 

“What’d I tell you?” Derek chuckled, appearing behind Emily. “She’s a fighter.”

“Someone has to keep you in line.” 

He chuckled and rustled your hair. “Going to see Hotch then?”

You nodded.

“Well he’s been trying to get to you for days, so it’ll be nice for him to not be bossing everyone around for a minute.” Despite his teasing words, you knew he was being genuine. 

They were all just glad you were okay. 

“We should get going,” Spencer said, checking his watch.

You said goodbyes and thanks to both agents and headed on your way, still feeling ridiculous in that damn chair. 

Derek wasn’t kidding. 

When you looked through the window of Aaron’s room, he was pacing, despite Dave scolding him for doing so. 

“She’ll be here any minute. You don’t want to collapse before then, huh?”

“Every minute she’s out there-” Aaron started. He stopped when he locked eyes with you. 

You moved so fast Spencer called after you, worried you’d break a stitch. 

Aaron met you halfway and took you in his arms. You held each other as tightly as your matching injuries would allow. 

“I’m sorry,” he said into your hair. “I’m so sorry.” 

You pulled back, putting your hands on his cheeks. “Don’t start. None of this was your fault.”

He stepped back, opening his mouth to argue. 

“Aaron.” The tone of your voice stopped him. 

He blinked back tears and pulled you back into his embrace. 

After a moment, you parted, but he kept a hand on your arm like you’d vanish if he stopped holding some part of you. 

“I have to ask,” Dave stepped forward with a grim expression. “What were you doing over at Aaron’s place when we got back? I thought you two were back on again.” 

Aaron’s face morphed, wondering the same thing. 

You gave both of them a small smile. 

“That's what I was going to tell you.” You took Spence’s hand. “We’re getting married.” 

Aaron’s eyes widened. 

Dave cheered and pulled Reid into a fatherly hug. 

“That’s…” Aaron’s eyes welled. “That’s amazing.” 

He pulled you into another embrace and shook Spencer’s hand. 

For a moment, it was alright again. 

But then, you took a breath. 

“Alright, gentlemen.” Crossing your arms, you remembered what Tabby said to you. The message she left you with before you stepped out of the door. “Let’s catch this bastard.”

-

I always forget tag lists, so please let me know if I missed you!

The In-Betweens series: @amywright; shesoperfectt;  hereforsmutbcicantgetenough;  violetbossler;  hyper-half-blood;  i-bitch-you-bitch; xcastawayherosx; preciousbabypeter; @jori21; @sol-48;  @murdermornings ; @ staygoldsquatchling02; @ ara-a-bird; @pleasantwitchgarden

[alessiasfreckles]

amnesia - part 8 (ona batlle x alexia putellas x reader)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7

a/n: sorry guys, had to repost this one due to an issue with the title! anyway, when are these girls going to learn how to communicate??

-------

“Do you want to do something with Ale tonight, the three of us? I don’t think you’re ready to go out yet, but we can celebrate your leg finally being free,” Ona suggested as the two of you walked out of the hospital. You still had crutches, but the cast had been taken off, and it felt like your leg could breathe again. 

“That sounds great!” you smiled. Ona had barely mentioned the captain since you’d brought her up in conversation just a couple days ago, and you weren’t sure if she had been upset about Alexia’s feelings towards you, but clearly it couldn’t be too bad if she was suggesting doing something together. Plus, you missed the blonde - it had been a while since you’d seen her, if you didn’t count all the times you’d looked her up online.

“What do you want to do? We could stay in, or go out, I guess,” Ona trailed off, looking at your leg uncertainly.

“Go out! Please, for the love of god, I cannot take being cooped up in my apartment any more. It’s bad enough not being able to play football, but not being able to go out much has been killing me,” you implored, eyes wide, and Ona laughed. 

“Okay, okay, we’ll go out. Nothing too crazy, though. There’s a nice restaurant in your neighbourhood we used to go to, we can go there,” she said.

That’s how you found yourself sat between the two women in a booth tucked away at the back of a local restaurant and bar. It was busy, but you supposed it was a Friday night, and it really did feel good to be amongst people instead of in your apartment. 

Something was… off, however. You weren’t sure what it was exactly, but the vibes were slightly strange, like the air was vibrating. You figured that maybe you were just so not used to being around so many people anymore and tried to brush it off. 

“How was training today?” you asked during a lull in the conversation. Glancing down at your drink, you didn’t notice the way Alexia’s and Ona’s eyes met across the table.

“Good,” Alexia said smoothly. “We all miss you, though. Are you looking forward to coming back next week?”

“I won’t be back, not properly,” you grumbled. “I’ll just be there for physio and occupational therapy.”

“You’ll be there, though! It’ll be nice to have you around again,” Alexia smiled warmly at you, resting a hand on your shoulder for just a brief second. 

“I guess,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm up a little. 

“Si, the three of us again, it’ll be just like old times,” Ona added. 

“Old times? Were the three of us together a lot?” you asked, frowning. You knew that you were close with both of them, but you’d assumed that when you and Ona started dating, Alexia would have felt awkward being around the both of you and would have hung back a little. 

“Oh yeah, we were inseparable,” she said, resting an arm on your shoulders. You stiffened slightly under the touch, but Ona didn’t seem to notice. “We were always together. The girls on the team used to joke about all three of us dating, not just you and me.”

“Huh.” Leaning away from Ona’s arm, you moved to get up. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

Once you were in the bathroom with the door locked behind you, you let out a sigh. Splashing water onto your face, you frowned at your reflection in the mirror. You felt weird. Things felt different. Ona was behaving strangely, much more jovial than she had been the past few days, and you felt a flash of irritation. She was behaving like nothing had happened, like you hadn’t been in a coma, like you hadn’t lost your memories, like she hadn’t lied to you. And then there were your feelings about Alexia, which you were still confused about. Frustration about the whole situation bubbled up inside you, and you splashed cold water onto your face again, trying to calm down. 

“What are you doing?” Alexia hissed as soon as the bathroom door swung closed behind you. 

“What do you mean?” Ona asked. 

“You’re acting weird - you’re being way too casual about this, you’re pushing it too hard and too fast!” the blonde said, keeping her voice quiet, as if she was worried you’d hear. “Look, we said we would slowly introduce her to the idea, maybe let her think of it herself. We’re just meant to be making small suggestions, comments, that kind of thing - not telling her that people thought all three of us were dating!”

Ona scowled, not wanting to admit that maybe Alexia was right, that maybe she had been laying it on a little too thick. “We have to make it obvious enough, though, otherwise she won’t even notice it!”

“Of course she will! She’s not stupid, Oni,” Alexia frowned.

“Who’s not stupid?” you asked, appearing from behind the booth. It looked as though the two had been deep in conversation when you left the bathroom, and as you approached the table you heard Alexia’s statement.

“Oh, no one!” Ona said quickly, before Alexia even had a chance to open her mouth. You narrowed your eyes slightly, the speed at which she spoke not doing her any favours. 

“Right…,” you trailed off. So, Ona thought you were stupid. Great. You sat back down between the two, but this time you stayed just out of Ona’s reach. 

“Y/N, how have you been feeling, now that you’ve been home and out of the hospital for a week?” Alexia asked.

“Um, okay, I guess. It’s been a lot,” you admitted, grateful for the change in topic. “I’ve felt a bit overwhelmed sometimes. And I’m frustrated that I don’t remember more, I feel like I should.”

“It’ll come, with time,” Alexia said, placing a hand on your knee. It was warm, comforting. “And if not, we’ll do our best to fill your mind with new memories, isn’t that right, Oni?”

“Yes!” the brunette nodded emphatically. “We can make all kinds of new memories!”

“Thanks, guys,” you gave them both a small smile. 

“How about I get us some drinks?” Alexia suggested, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

As you watched Alexia head towards the bar, Ona hummed thoughtfully.

“Ale looks really good tonight, don’t you think?” she asked.

“Hm?” your eyes flew to Ona, hoping she wouldn’t be able to notice the way your cheeks were flushing rapidly in the dim lighting. “Oh, um yeah, I- I guess?”

“You guess?” Ona let out a gentle laugh, looking over at you. “Please, she’s gorgeous, we all know it. And I thought you said you wrote something similar in your journal?”

“Oh, I, yeah, she,” you stumbled over your words, Ona’s teasing tone catching you off guard. It hadn’t even seemed like she was listening when you’d told her about that. 

The brunette leant in close to you, her hand on your thigh. “Are you blushing, bebé?”

“What- no!” you abruptly moved away from her, letting her hand fall to the seat. What the hell was she doing? Why was she even talking about this?

“It’s okay if you are, you know,” she mused, as if you hadn’t even said anything. “I’d understand if you still had a little crush on her. Who wouldn’t?”

That was enough. Your heart pounding, blood roaring in your ears, you stood up. “I need some air.”

You left the restaurant as fast as you could with one bad leg. You didn’t even notice Alexia leaving the drinks at the bar to follow you outside, and jumped when she put a hand on your shoulder. 

“Chiqui, are you alright? What’s going on?” she asked, her calm voice grounding you.

“Yes, I- no, I don’t know!” you groaned, putting your head in your hands. You didn’t understand what the fuck was going on, why Ona was talking like that, why she was saying those things. Even if she did happen to know how you were feeling, why would she be teasing you about it like that? And what you’d overheard earlier, how she clearly thought you were stupid? 

“I want to go home,” you said quietly. “Actually, no, I- can I stay at your place tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course, but what about Ona, don’t you want to stay with her?” Alexia frowned.

“No, I don’t want to talk to Ona right now,” you said, a familiar feeling of hurt washing over you as you thought about her words to Alexia. “Can we just go?”

“Okay, chiqui. But I’m going to go and tell Oni, okay? It wouldn’t be right to just leave her.”

Ona watched Alexia approach the booth, a bad feeling in her stomach. She should have run after you, she should have done something, said something. 

“Is she okay?” the younger player asked, worry gnawing at her insides. 

“Si, but…,” Alexia sighed. “She wants to go home, to my place. She wants to stay with me tonight.”

“Okay, should I come too?” 

“No, Oni, I’m sorry. I think you upset her,” Alexia said gently, not wanting to hurt Ona’s feelings. “But I’ll keep you updated and I will see you tomorrow at training, okay?”

“Oh. Okay.” Ona’s voice was small, and she looked down at the table, refusing to meet the captain’s eye. As she watched Alexia leave, she could feel a pit in her stomach, growing and growing, and she hoped it would swallow her whole.

[metalhoops]

Corroded Coffin didn’t ‘do’ love songs. 

It wasn’t some unwritten rule or unspoken theory that they were too ‘cool’ for love songs. Hell, metal ballads were a whole subgenre. Even W.A.S.P. had a love song. 

It was just that in their three years as a band, they’d never written a single love song. If Corroded Coffin had a lyricist, it was Eddie. It wasn’t as though other members hadn’t tried their hand at writing. Gareth and Jeff had written a handful of songs between them, as well as helped Eddie polish a couple of verses. Grant had even written a chorus, but generally, the lyrics of a Corroded Coffin song were, first and foremost, Eddie’s brainchild. 

The closest they’d ever gotten to writing a love song was ‘Killer Konnection’, and that was all Jeff. Though it was more about lust than love. So you could imagine the boys' shock when Eddie showed up to band practice and played them a love song. 

It was unlike any of their other material. Since Eddie disappeared back in March after being framed for a series of murders, the songs he’d written had changed. That hadn’t surprised the boys. Being proverbially run out of town with pitchforks could really change a guy’s view of the world. He pulled out some killer prose about red skies filled with bats and dark wizards out for deathly revenge. But they’d never heard Eddie write anything like the song he played for them that morning. He hadn’t even named it. Though Gareth caught a glimpse in Eddie’s notebook and saw it was going by the tentative title of ‘S’. A mysterious name for a mysterious song. 

Sure, ‘S’ had all the hallmarks of a Corroded Coffin song. It had the killer beat spurred on by the anxiety-inducing pounding drumbeat and base, accompanied by thrashing guitars and raw vocals, but the lyrics? Downright Robert Smith or Morrissey vibes. Maybe ‘love song’ was too harsh. Really, it was a song about longing. Even the guitar chords appeared to ache under the weight of the song. 

The song left the three other members of Corroded Coffin asking one question. What the hell happened with Eddie? They’d known Eddie was gay since before they’d become a band. It wasn’t like the boys were the type for adhering to societal conventions anyway. 

It’d be another year before Gareth decided he didn’t particularly have any preference as to who he fell in love with, and Grant? He decided he’d rather play D&D and work on creating his own tabletop RPG than date anyone, anytime soon. Thank you very much. Jeff was the token straight friend, though he did like wearing eyeliner and painting his nails, so people thought what they would. 

They knew Eddie had dated guys — maybe ‘dated’ was too strong a word. They knew Eddie had hooked up with guys but none of them had inspired such a response. They made it their mission to work out who the hell ‘S’ was about, and maybe try to knock some sense into him. Eddie’s song sounded so damn heartbreaking. They were his best friends. They had to do something. 

It wasn’t until their next Hellfire session that all the pieces fell into place. Since Hawkins burst of Satanic Panic, D&D at the high school was no longer an option, so they’d been couch surfing across different members’ houses. How they ended up at the Harringtons’ the Corroded Coffin boys would never know. They knew Dustin and the younger kids were friends with the guy, but since he’d gotten off the hook for the town murders, Eddie and Steve had gotten close. 

The men had eyes. It was clear to see by the way Eddie’s focus honed in on Steve the second he entered the room, the guy was equal parts smitten and grief-stricken. It was also painfully apparent Steve was oblivious. Not Eddie falling for a straight guy, again. That always ended poorly. 

Yet there were moments, the boys questioned how one-sided the affair was. Gareth noticed the way Steve went straight to Eddie after the session was over. He asked about the game. He knew Harrington didn’t give two shits about D&D but he listened attentively, nodding his head and narrowing his eyes as though in deep concentration as Eddie spoke. Weird. 

He was also nice to the Corroded Coffin boys. Uncharacteristically nice.  Harrington got a little snarky with the kids. He’d make jabs about them making sure to use coasters or get their feet off the coffee table, but the Corroded Coffin boys? It was nothing but small talk and platitudes, as though he was trying particularly hard to be nice and non-offensive. Why would Harrington care what they thought? 

Eddie was always the last to arrive at rehearsals, which left plenty of time for the men to discuss. One pressing question: was Steve actually queer? Gareth said yes, Jeff said no and Grant wanted to be excluded from the conversation. The next, had anything actually happened between Eddie and Steve? After going through ‘S’s lyrics with a fine-toothed comb, they all agreed on ‘maybe’. Which was less than helpful. The boys weren’t usually the type for meddling but Eddie had been downright mopey all month.  They needed to do something. 

Gareth took one for the team at the next Hellfire session held at the Harringtons’. They’d been playing for three hours straight and were taking a well-deserved break. The kids were eating lunch while Eddie was smoking out back near Steve’s pool. Harrington was cleaning plates in the kitchen, so Gareth offered to help. He’d never been subtle, so he began the conversation with a sentence that seemed to hit Steve, much like a sledgehammer to the face. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Steve looked at Gareth wide-eyed, all deer in headlights, dull doe eyes. Gareth didn’t understand Eddie’s seemingly deep and aching love for the guy, but he was easy enough on the eyes. 

“No. Not currently,” Steve fumbled. 

“Oh. Okay cool.” Gareth paused for too long. He should’ve had a better plan than just ‘talk to Steve’. 

“Do you want one?” 

“A girlfriend?” Steve clarified, still looking both alarmed and dumbfounded. 

“A friend. Who doesn’t happen to have to be a girl,” Gareth circumnavigated. People said Harrington was dumb, but the guy appeared to catch onto what he was implying too quickly for an entirely straight ex-jock. 

“I-uh. I don’t know you that well,” Steve mumbled, his eyes suddenly glued to the dishes in the sink. 

Holy fucking shit, Steve Harrington thought he was asking him out. Nope. NO. Abort. Gareth needed to crawl into a deep, dark hole for the foreseeable future. He had no clue what he’d said to Steve. He just got himself the hell out of there. Steve spent the rest of the session being annoyingly nice to him, without mentioning the awkward moment in the kitchen. Gareth spent the time wanting to crawl inside himself and puke. Eddie was going to be so mad if he ever found out. 

With all his inner turmoil, it wasn’t until he left the Harringtons’ that he realised, Steve hadn’t turned Gareth down because he was a guy. He’d turned him down because they didn’t know each other. Holy shit. There was hope.  

At the next rehearsal, he managed to sway the other band members into believing that despite their (and likely Eddie’s) assumptions, Steve Harrington wasn’t as ‘totally straight, off limits’ as they’d assumed. It was Jeff’s turn to have a plan. He kept the other members in the dark, besides his exclamation of ‘I have a plan’. By the time the plan came to fruition, it’d sunk into the back of the band members’ collective subconscious. 

The band was playing at The Hideout and Jeff insisted they change their setlist to include ‘S’. There wasn’t much argument.  When it was time to play the song, Jeff quickly introduced it, dedicating it to ‘someone special in the crowd’. It was then that the other Corroded Coffin boys were suddenly on hyper-alert, searching the crowd for whatever poor girl Jeff had decided to fall for, when all three sets of unassuming eyes found the familiar face of Steve Harrington lingering in the back booth. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst their regulars. 

Eddie looked ready to puke or run but the boys quickly counted him in, and they were off to the races. Eddie couldn’t resist a catchy hook. Once the setlist was over, Eddie remained hiding backstage, pacing and looking ready to actually commit a string of murders while muttering ‘what the fuck did you do?’ whether to himself or the rest of the band, they didn’t know. 

Eventually, a familiar figure appeared at the backstage door. Steve knocked tentatively before peeking in. He gave an awkward half-hearted wave to the other members before making a beeline for Eddie. 

“I got your note,” Steve said, the note all band members were now sure Jeff had somehow engineered. 

“I liked the song, it was kind of sad though...” Steve muttered, gazing down at his shoes: dentist’s teeth fresh, white reeboks. Who wore reeboks to a metal show at a bar? 

Much to the dismay of the other Corroded Coffin members, Grant chose that moment to get involved. He ushered Gareth and Jeff out to the front of house, out of earshot. Leaving Steve and Eddie to have their conversation in private. 

The next week, Eddie arrived at rehearsals early, with Steve Harrington and a new, real Corroded Coffin love song in tow. 

[sayornispress]

My most recent project, and most intensive project in a long time!! Halo Effect and Soldier's Heart by @alex51324. Five books in all, totaling over 1700 pages. Details, story spoilers, and more photos under the cut - there are quite a few!

In WWI, English soldiers wrapped their pants and boots with "puttees", and the spines mimic that look. Rather than actually wrapping, or cutting the spine cloth into pieces (which I worried would fray over time, especially with the opening and closing of reading), I pleated it and sewed it to the cover cloth (which is light canvas-y green but otherwise rather plain, so I'm not including photos here). The titling is flat gold heat transfer vinyl.

The bookmark charms relate to the story, of course.

Halo Effect - I felt that Thomas was defined by his status as a footman and this sets up his massive character change throughout the series, so the first bookmark charm is a footman's button, though not a Downton-specific one.

Soldier's Heart, vol. I - This fountain pen nib is from the early twentieth century. I found in the first volume that Thomas's social network, and communication both to and from define this part of the work.

Soldier's Heart, vol. II - My dad collects WWI memorabilia, including bullets (it's in this volume that Thomas is shot). He cut a bullet down for me to use for this binding. This particular bullet is English, rather than from any of the opposing nations, since he doesn't collect those (and I was rather lucky he had even an English one) but tbh I don't have the slightest idea what the difference is.

Soldier's Heart, vol. III - Y'all this is a genuine RAMC WWI coat button. I couldn't not use it. Wholly unmodified, to be clear, so if the book ever needs rebound or anything changes, it can be removed and reused as necessary. I chose this volume for the button because I felt Thomas really come into his own as a member of the RAMC, away from the war - and because I wanted to use the bullet for the last one, and this is the only volume this button would fit on, other than the last, but that's a whole other deal.

Soldier's Heart, vol. IV - Thomas, whose father was a clockmaker, becomes a chauffeur at the end of Soldier's Heart. My first idea was to use some sort of gear that resembled a car part as a charm. I come from a long line of magpies/dragons/Gollum-like creatures, and my grandfather had, in his garage, an alarm clock that belonged to my great-great-grandfather, gathering dust, because my grandpa had been meaning to fix it and just hadn't gotten around to it yet (he'd been saying this since the mid-seventies, at least - my aunt wanted to use it, since it would have matched her quilt). Anyway, we all gathered around the dinner table to take this clock apart, which turned out to be a rather violent act involving pliers, several screwdrivers, an orbital sander, a drill press, and a hammer. I got a few gears out of the deal, and my cousin (a mechanic) selected the one that looked the most like a car part, scaled down. So. Double connection.

It's a bit difficult to tell in the photo, but the speckled edges each have two different colors, and there's, again, a reason for each choice! Each color represents something specific:

Blue - clear skies/relative calm Green - naivety/he's got things to learn Brown - the muck of war Red - blood (Thomas's and others')

Halo Effect: Green and blue Soldier's Heart, vol. I - green and brown Soldier's Heart, vol. II - brown and red Soldier's Heart, vol. III - green and red Soldier's Heart, vol. IV - red and blue

The speckling is also more intense in the middle three books.

My signature throw, as well as a close-up of the hand-sewn endbands (each volume's endbands match the speckled edges of that particular book) and a bit better look at the RAMC button, though a bit blurry.

And next to it, my metadata page and the gratitude from Halo Effect. I'm very much enjoying this metadata layout, and here's as good a place as any to give some general typesetting info:

I used IM Fell Great Primer for the body text, 11pt, 15pt leading.

Next up, the details in the letters--each character has their own handwriting, and a few are showcased here:

Syl drew a face in the margins of one of the letters with Theo, and I mimicked it for the binding. (Yes I was in fact crying as I did it)

Don't be afraid to ask if you'd like to know the names of any of the fonts - all from Google Fonts, since I do my typesetting in GDocs. I love the first one, in particular (Joey's) because I so rarely use it. I'm very happy with how they all turned out, they feel like they match the personalities well, in my opinion, though I should have made a couple a touch bigger.

---

I think that's all of my photos! I'm so so proud of how this binding turned out. It had quite a long turn-around - it's not unusual for me to have less than two weeks between reading a fic for the first time and having a bound copy on my shelf, and I read this fic for the first time over the course of nine days all the way back in March. (Which. okay. Not that long actually.)

I had a really lovely time with the binding, as well, because I got so much input from my family and friends - my dad was integral in the whole process, not only in the donation of the bullet, but also in the design of the covers in general and in answering my WWI questions, and my mom helped me pick colors for the endbands and edges. My grandpa donated a clock, and my boss helped me figure out how to get the charms attached to the ribbons, and her sister helped me with sewing, so all in all this whole experience has been so wonderful, so special. I'm so grateful for it.

[jebewonmorelike]

Devil by the Whiteboard

wc: 4.2k (so i was way off lmao) pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: MEAN!hanbin he is not nice so be forewarned but the ending suggests he can possibly be fixed maybe but no promises; being alone with a mean person in a hallway; light swears; angst but only towards the end; i wrote that they go to an academy but it could be a university it doesn't change the story summary: booksmart!reader is ready to finally win the scholastic decathlon, but a series of coincidental unfortunate events that couldn't possibly have anything to do with studentbodypresident!hanbin threaten to ruin their chances once more. ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ guys i did it, i finished my masterpiece. i hope you like it. academic play on the title of the txt song, i know-- clever. the scholastic decathlon is inspired by the one in high school musical. also pls don't make fun of me for not knowing how science or chemistry works, i was literally advance in science but my chem teacher in high school was on academic probation for being such a bad teacher and we all nearly failed our regional exams so. anyway pls excuse this or lightly roast me in the tags or comments. i hope you enjoy mean!shanbin... this one might need a part 2... or a prequel. or both. I'M SO EXCITED I FINISHED THIS OMFG I HOPE YOU LOVE IT!

(part two— “i didn’t think you had it in you”)

It's 7 P.M. on a Friday and there's nowhere in the world you'd rather be than at the Regional Scholastic Decathlon Finals. You're about to partake in your favorite extracurricular activity: more academics. There's only one thing you wish you could change...

"I'm so honored to be competing as a team leader in the Regional Scholastic Decathlon Finals," Hanbin says into the handheld microphone. "And I'm even more honored to be competing against who I believe to be the most worthy opponents."

You fight the urge to gag at the Student Body President standing next to you on the makeshift stage.

"And you know each other well, I've been told," the announcer adds with a laugh. "You and (Y/N) are something of academic rivals, yes?"

Hanbin laughs, smile lines on his cheeks only adding to his innocent, clean-cut image. "In the most respectful way. Wouldn't you agree, (Y/N)?"

There are, in truth, very few things you'd agree less with. Coming from a private academy for gifted students, there were several different Scholastic Decathlon teams at your school. The Green Team, the Red Team and the Yellow Team had all already been eliminated this semester, which left the Blue Team (led by Hanbin) and the Pink Team (led by you).

There had also been a new Purple Team formed at the beginning of this year, but they were disbanded when the headmaster found out the "experiments" they were conducting in the science labs were a bit unorthodox.

You honestly weren't sure how much of a "worthy opponent" the Pink Team was at this rate. The Blue Team had won Regionals for three semesters straight and it didn't seem like their streak would end any time soon...

Not with Sung Hanbin on their side.

You glance at the walking, talking cinnamon roll standing next to you and wish fervently that all his teeth would fall out. "Right. Respectful," you chime quietly into your own microphone.

"And (Y/N)! It seems this is always where the Pink Team meets its demise under your leadership," the announcer notes, a bit too happily if you're being honest. "What makes you think you can beat Hanbin this time?"

The audience of family, friends, and teachers laughs awkwardly at the dig of a question. You swallow nervously, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before you answer.

You and Hanbin were total opposites, both competing for the tile of top student since your first year at the academy. He was friendly, outgoing-- a networker, even. When the election for Student Body President came around each year, there weren't any votes cast for anyone except Sung Hanbin (and you knew that for a fact since you were the one counting them). You were more of a behind-the-scenes overachiever. Acing every class, developing plans and putting them into action, and keeping your head down in the hallways to avoid any unwanted social interaction.

Though President Hanbin had been asked to recite a speech for Teacher's Appreciation Week, it was Secretary (Y/N) who had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning writing it.

"I don't think I can beat Hanbin," you say finally. "But I do think the Pink Team can beat the Blue Team. I think that's what you meant to ask, right?"

There's a moment of uncomfortable silence before Hanbin grins, extending his hand for you to shake. "I couldn't agree more. This event is about our teams, not us. Every team member has worked hard to prove their abilities tonight."

You watch as the audience absolutely melts at the handsome boy's charming smile and his words of camaraderie that were merely a more attractive repackaging of your previous reply. You pull your hand back from his as quickly as possible.

The announcer smiles in admiration at the boy to his right. “You are entirely correct, Hanbin. My mistake. And what a wonderful sentiment for you to share with us.”

It barely even phases you anymore: the hold Hanbin could have on people. Maybe you’d have been captivated too, if you weren’t the one person who--.

“(Y/N)?” The announcer prompts, his tone indicating that this isn’t the first time he called your name. “Any words for your team?”

“Oh,” you mumble, mentally shaking off the embarrassment of daydreaming during a regional competition. "Let's do our best! No matter the outcome, though we will strive for a good one, I'm incredibly proud of the work my amazing team has done so far this year and you all should be as well. Fighting!"

"That's just swell," the announcer replies rather unenthusiastically. "Hanbin?"

Hanbin nods, smiling graciously at the announcer and the crowd. "We've put in so much time and effort this semester and I truly believe our labor of love has blossomed into a winning fruit. And, even on the chance that we don't take this win, I will still be so proud of that fruit that is my amazing team. Fighting!"

The audience applauds and the scream sitting in your throat is now desperately trying to claw its way out. Instead, you just smile.

"Hanbin has such a way with words, doesn't he?" The announcer muses to you.

"He does," you agree politely, muttering under your breath, "If that 'way' is stealing them."

"Then let's get this Regional Final started!" The announcer's words are met with applause as you rejoin your team behind your table.

"We've got this," your teammate Maria encourages, patting you on the back gently. "It's our turn to win!"

You nod, smiling at your team and giving them two thumbs up. "Let's win this! Fighting!"

The first subject of the Super Relay is mathematics, an event where each team's members must rotate in a line to solve a new equation while racing against both their opponent and the clock. As the team leader, you are last in line as you will have the least amount of time left on the clock to solve your equation.

Unfortunately, Sung Hanbin is also at the end of the Blue Team's line. While you're better at economics, history, literature, and geography, Hanbin has a slight leg up on you in the math and science departments. But you had been studying overtime and, even if you didn't manage to beat his time in this round, you were confident you could follow closely enough behind that your team would not be hurting for points.

As soon as both teams are set in their positions, the announcer raises one arm. "On your marks, get set..."

"Go!" He signals, lowering his arm as Maria rushes to the shared whiteboard.

Her equation flashes on the screen and you exhale with relief. Maria was the weakest at maths on your team, so she always went first in relays so the other four team members could make up the time. This equation is fairly straightforward and in her wheelhouse, so you're able to relax for awhile.

Each team member finishes their equation, placing their markers on the whiteboard shelf and joining the end of the line until it's finally your turn to solve. David throws his marker down too harshly and it falls to the ground, rolling to the other team's side.

Hanbin is now racing up to the whiteboard for his team, but on his way he bends down and reaches under the chair that your team's marker has rolled under. After a moment, he resurfaces; marker in hand as he smiles at you sweetly, holding it out to you as you run up to the whiteboard.

"I think you might need this," he jokes politely. You give him a nod and tear off the cap as you quickly memorize your equation, smiling to yourself as you realize you've practiced this exact problem in a workbook just last week.

"And look at this sportsmanship from Sung Hanbin!" The announcer commends. "He's the Student Body President for a reason, folks."

You put your marker to the board, attempting to copy your equation as you ignore the adoring audience's endless mumbling about Hanbin. As you write, however, you suddenly realize that the marker in your hand isn't producing any ink.

Panic flows through you as you scribble it desperately against the whiteboard trying to get the ink flowing again, but your efforts are fruitless. You turn to the announcer in a frenzy.

"Please, my marker isn't working!" You exclaim, looking to the judges' table for assistance.

"It worked fine for the previous team member," the announcer contests, watching as you show him the lack of ink. "But, yes, it seems to be out of ink."

He walks to the judges table as your heart sits in your stomach, terrified that some fluke could completely ruin your team's chances of finally beating the Blue Team. You glance over at Hanbin, who, much to your surprise, is looking back at you concernedly.

A judge brings you another approved marker and you resume solving your equation frantically, despite the judge relaying that you would have ten seconds added to your permitted time due to the mishap.

After about 45 seconds, you check Hanbin's progress and your spirit is renewed when you see how quickly you've caught up to him. You're now only two lines behind him in the equation and you can tell Hanbin is caught off guard by your speed.

After another thirty seconds, Hanbin steps back from the whiteboard and nods as he double checks his math. He circles his answer and lays his marker down on the shelf, running to the stop clock and hitting his team's timer.

The audience cheers at the Blue Team leader's probable victory, but you don't let it throw you. Another nine seconds and your answer is circled on the board as you run to the buzzer and stop the clock. Your team surrounds you excitedly, praising you for your focus during the stressful situation and your noticeably quick solving of the equation.

After the judges finalize the results of the mathematics portion of the Super Relay, they hand the announcer a script card. "The results are in! The winner of the mathematics Super Relay is... The Pink Team!"

Your team starts to cheer, jumping up and down ecstatically around you as you remain absolutely shocked at the unexpected win.

You watch as the announcer's eyebrows furrow confusedly, rereading the script card to check if the result is correct.. "Huh. Mathematics is usually where the Pink Team has the most trouble, but with the additional ten seconds added to their time clock... The Pink Team wins by just 0.45 seconds."

You can't help but notice that the announcer looks concerned by the results, but before you can analyze him further you're pulled into your team's celebration. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Hanbin chewing his lip nervously at the Blue Team's defeat.

~

You're halfway through the Science portion of the Super Relay when your beaker begins to boil. You watch as it bubbles furiously when it's merely supposed to be simmering on the hotplate.

You hover your hand over the hotplate, panic turning into confusion when you feel a low amount of heat that couldn't possibly be boiling the solution in this beaker. Unfortunately the alternative to a hotplate turned up too high was much worse...

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," you whisper, taking the beaker off of your hotplate with your gloved hands. As expected, the beaker continues to bubble over even after being removed from heat and you stare at the mixture in horror.

Where had you messed up?

You look around at the different tubes on your table, reading the labels of each vial carefully to see if you'd poured in the wrong liquid by mistake. You check each empty tube, verifying that they were in fact the liquids you had thought they were.

But there's one label that catches your eye in particular. The side of it is sticking up slightly and, cautiously, you peel it off to reveal another label underneath.

Glycerin.

Thankfully it wouldn't kill you, but it was a huge nuisance. You'd have to remake the solution and, as you glance at the time clock, you realize your prospects of finishing are hopeless.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

Hanbin hits his team's buzzer in the knick of time, the crowd erupting into applause for the school's golden boy. You chew your cheek, willing yourself not to cry as your team members begin to comfort you. Just as you compose yourself, you hear shouts coming from the other side of the room.

"(Y/N) couldn't even finish the experiment!" One of the younger Blue Team members taunts, smirking at you. "Pink Team is going down!"

"Maybe they should consider appointing a new leader," another Blue Team member jeers. "(Y/N) is clearly--."

"That's not very kind, Ilsung," Hanbin interrupts, placing a hand on the shoulder of both of the younger team members sternly. "Everyone here is trying their best and, unfortunately, mistakes are very easy to make under pressure."

"I didn't make a mistake. The--," you start to correct, but Hanbin has already stepped up onto his metaphorical soapbox once more.

"Whether we are winners in the competition or not, we are the losing team if we don't treat our opponents with the respect they deserve," Hanbin concludes, turning back to face the audience.

"Once again, Sung Hanbin proves his humility and kindness," the announcer coos as Hanbin shakes his head to politely deflect the compliment with a smile. "Exactly what we'd expect from the Fall Regional Scholastic Decathlon champion."

"What!?" You exclaim. "He didn't even win yet!"

"Anyway," the announcer continues as the judges hand him the results, "the winner of the science portion of the Super Relay is... The Blue Team! Obviously!"

You laugh hopelessly. "Obviously, he said."

"It's alright," David reassures. "Double the points in the final Humanities portion. The Blue Team has nothing on us!"

You nod, smiling reluctantly. "You're right. We can still win this! I believe in all of you. Let's do this!"

~

Pink Team is ahead 44 to 36 when you finally step up to the podium to answer your set of twenty humanities questions. Hanbin steps up to his podium, picking up his buzzer and breathing deeply in preparation for the upcoming questions in his weakest area.

You pick up your buzzer, placing your thumb on the trigger comfortably so that it doesn't cramp when you press it rapidly.

"Good luck," Hanbin says, smiling at you cutely.

"Yeah," you manage to reply without throwing up. "You too."

You fire off the five economics questions easily, hitting the buzzer a full second before Hanbin each time. You're on a roll and you don't have any intentions of slowing down.

"Now we'll move onto literature," the announcer prompts, rearranging his script cards.

"One second, please," Hanbin calls suddenly, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "This is embarrassing but I think there's something in my shoe. Can I be allowed to remove it?"

The judges look at each other momentarily before nodding. "Quickly," one agrees.

Hanbin bends down, untying his shoelace and shaking out his shoe. You look out at the audience, who are all both visibly and audibly fawning over how adorable the Blue Team leader is.

"So endearing, that Sung Hanbin," the announcer remarks fondly.

Hanbin finally hops back up to his feet, nodding at the judges and the audience respectfully. "Please forgive me for the delay."

"No worries at all. Let's jump right back into it then," the announcer segways. "Question six: What is the name of the collection of 85 articles written by Alexander Hamilton, John Jay—.”

You smile as you press your buzzer, but confusion sweeps over you when Hanbin’s buzzer sounds first.

“The Federalist Papers,” he answers, but you can hear a bit of uncertainty in his voice.

“Correct,” the announcer says. “Question seven: Name the correct order of the three cantos of The Divine Com—.”

You press your buzzer, Hanbin’s buzzer ringing out again.

“Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso,” the Blue Team leader answers correctly again.

You go through five more questions like this— knowing the answer to them all immediately only to somehow be beaten by Hanbin’s buzzer.

“Um, excuse me?” You ask before the start of the history round. “I think… I think there’s something wrong with my buzzer!"

The announcer turns to the judges who allow the complaint with a nod. "Please test your buzzer several times," the judge on the end requests, gesturing for you to proceed.

You press the button on your buzzer and hear it ring. You press it once more and it rings again. The third time you press it, your cheeks heat up with utter embarrassment. You could've sworn it wasn't working just a moment ago...

You smile uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," you apologize quickly, mortified as your bottom lip tucks between your lips shyly.

"It's okay," Hanbin answers, smile lines appearing on his perfect cheeks. "I know this last section is usually not my best, but I promise it's just because I've been studying so hard. I would be thrown off guard too!"

The audience laughs at his humorous compassion, your error only making way for another opportunity to boost Hanbin's morale. You swear you feel yourself shrinking down, down, down to the size of an ant as Hanbin gets every last point in the final round of the Super Relay.

You pressed the buzzer in the middle of every question.

"It's okay, (Y/N)," Maria says, resting her head on your shoulder. "I'm sure all of that stuff with the marker just threw you off. That wasn't your fault."

You shake your head, completely perplexed by how this had happened and now also beginning to questioning your sanity. "I was pressing the buzzer," you assert, fighting off another round of tears welling up in your eyes as the adrenaline of the competition wheres off.

"I pressed the buzzer every time."

~

"We'll get 'em next semester, (Y/N)!" David encourages. "And they'll never see it coming."

You force yourself to smile, not wanting to to show the team your real emotions. Had you really not been pressing the buzzer? Were you actually going crazy?

"Mm," you agree quietly. "Pink Team: Spring Regional Scholastic Decathlon Champions! We'll make it happen!"

Your team all puts their hands into the circle, shouting, "1, 2, 3: Pink Team on Top!" After saying your temporary goodbyes, you walk through the empty hallway behind the gym and hang your lab coat up on the designated rack. As you secure your lab coat on the hook, you hear a mumbling coming from around the corner.

"Here's five hundred," you hear a familiar voice say as you tiptoe quietly to the end of the hall. "I'll get you the other half by Monday."

"Are you kidding me? You said you'd have it in full! Should've known the kid that was paying me to help him cheat in a Scholastic Decathlon would end up screwing me."

You peak your head out slowly around the corner, taking care not to make any loud sounds that might get you caught.

"Guess that's on you then. By Monday."

As the two men start to go their separate ways, you duck back behind the wall and try to control the rampant beating of your heart. You desperately attempt to silence your breathing as you hear one set of footsteps approach, closing your eyes and exhaling with relief when they continue down the hallway and past your hiding spot in the adjacent corridor.

With your hands over your eyes, you rub your face as tension bubbles to the surface. "Oh my god," you squeak out as the interaction you just witnessed sinks in.

Suddenly, something slams down above your head on the locker you're leaning against and rips you from your thought spiral.

"I'm glad you're finally starting to see my appeal," Hanbin says with a smirk, both hands pressed firmly against the locker on either side of your head. "But I think god might be a bit too much, even by my standards."

You swallow nervously, having had the displeasure of being confronted by Hanbin like this numerous times before. You look around to check if by some miracle there's anyone still lingering in the hallway that's witnessing this.

"Just me," Hanbin seemingly reads your mind. "That's not a problem, is it?"

"Y-you--... You..." He tilts his head expectantly, waiting for you to stop tripping over your own tongue. "You cheated?"

"Oh," Hanbin coos mockingly. "Did I?"

You nod, feeling your bottom lip shake. "You paid that announcer to give you all the answers."

"What?" He asks, face scrunching up in confusion. "He didn't give me the--... You think I, the reigning Regional Champion, need someone to give me the answers? Come on, (Y/N), I know you're smarter than that."

You blink back at him silently, watching as his face lights up in amusement.

"Do you actually have that little self-confidence?" He asks, shaking his head at you in amazement. "You really think your marker just happened to stop working right when it was your turn to solve? Or that the glycerin tube was just coincidentally mislabeled?"

Your lips part as Hanbin pieces the truth together for you.

"You and I both know you pressed that buzzer first every single time," he says earnestly, pouting at you sadly. "Are you really that insecure that you'd believe you were going crazy before you'd believe that I'd rigged your buzzer while I was fixing my shoe?"

"You... you..." You attempt to protest, but once again your stammering proves why you're always just Hanbin's ghostwriter.

His eyebrows furrow in concern and it's unnervingly genuine. "Seriously, (Y/N)? Now you're kind of just making me sad."

The patronizing from Hanbin is the last straw. He can steal your words, he can call you names, he can even sabotage your efforts...

But the moment Sung Hanbin begins to pity you is the moment you can no longer just stand there and take it.

"I'm gonna tell everybody," you threaten, but your voice comes out far too soft and shaky for him to take it seriously.

"I'm sure you are," he mocks, smirking at you. "I'm sure this time you won't just suck it up like you always do."

You lean forward, your face now just a couple inches from Hanbin's and you swear you see just the smallest flash of panic in his eyes at your action. "You're right," you agree. "You're always right, Hanbin."

He stares back at you, unmoving.

"That's why I'm so disappointed," you admit, sentiment suddenly shifting. "It wasn't my lack of confidence that made the possibility that you cheated unfathomable to me. It was honestly that, even after everything we've been through, I've always thought a bit more of you than that."

Hanbin leans back, hands falling to his sides as he continues to frown at you.

"I really don't like you, Hanbin, and I don't like always being in your shadow, but the truth is: you make a much better leader than I would," you confess, everything you've wanted to say now flowing freely out of your mouth. "And up until tonight, I thought that if I had to stand in a shadow, at least it was of someone who on some level deserved to be casting one."

Hanbin just blinks, his lips parting slightly as you study him. When he continues to refuse to react, you turn on your heels and begin to walk back down the hallway in the direction that you'd come from. You're halfway to the doors when Hanbin's voice suddenly rings out behind you:

"Join my team next semester."

You turn around quickly, one eyebrow raised in shock. "What!?"

"You heard me," he replies calmly.

"That's--... That's ridiculous! And your team is full anyway."

"Not for you, it's not," Hanbin quips, walking up to you.

"But--... But--."

"Come on, (Y/N). You just said it yourself: you were never meant to be a leader," Hanbin says as he stops in front of you. "But you're smarter than me. That's why I needed to set you back. There was no way I could've beaten you fair and square this time and you know it."

You stare at him wordlessly, wondering what you did in your past life to have to suffer the acquaintanceship of such an infuriating man.

"Even being thrown off by your stupid marker, you knew that equation like the back of your hand," he continues definitively. "If you had spoken up about the mislabeled tube. If you had trusted yourself about the buzzer..."

"But you knew I wouldn't."

He nods. "So join my team. Anyways, I... I could really use you," he says, a sheepish look on his face that you've never seen him wear around you before. "Blue Team is always able to win Regionals because I know how to beat the Pink Team-- I know how to beat you. But we always lose at Sectionals because the smartest person at our school was on the team we just beat."

You bite your lip, chewing on Hanbin's words as you feel both intensely offended and unfortunately flattered. But you could never let him know the latter. "What about anything that I just said makes you think I would join the team of some cheating asshole?"

To your surprise, he just laughs. "I've never heard you swear before. It's kind of..." He clears his throat, trailing off before he finishes his sentence. "If I'm being honest, your sudden display of willpower is kind of throwing me."

"Well I hope it throws you into another dimension, you self-righteous prick," you respond, turning back around furiously and continuing to walk down the hallway towards the exit doors-- shaking your head at the audacity of the boy called Sung Hanbin.

"Then can I pitch an alternative?" Hanbin calls as your fingers grip the door handle.

You pause, not realizing the mistake you've made as Hanbin's voice ricochets off the walls of the gym hallway:

"Go out with me."

[daisynik7]

Rush

Chapter 5: Over

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: cunnilingus, spitting, praise kink, daddy kink, vaginal sex (cowgirl)

Summary: After your one night with Eren, you’re convinced that whatever the two of you have is over. But it seems like neither of you can avoid each other for much longer.

Notes: Chapter title inspired by “Over” by Lucky Daye.

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“Can you help me roll up my sleeves? It’s getting into the cookie dough.”

Mikasa smiles as she assists you, folding your sleeves over until they’re up to your elbows. She sticks her finger in the batter and tastes it, nodding her head in approval. 

“Hey! Don’t stick your finger in there. People are going to be eating this.”

“It’s getting baked anyways, it’ll be fine,” she justifies, with a wave of her hand. She goes back to her spot, transferring freshly baked snickerdoodles from a baking pan onto a wire rack to cool. 

It’s Friday before dinner. The two of you are in the kitchen of your RA’s room, baking dozens of cookies for tomorrow’s event. Sigma Nu Kappa hosts a bake sale every fall semester to raise money for their charity: the Stohess Children’s Hospital. One $25 ticket gives access to all-you-can-eat desserts, made fresh by the sisters of SNK, as well as some professionally baked goods from a few generous donors.

With the help of Alpha Tau, your sorority is expected to raise even more money this year. The brothers have been helping immensely with ticket sales. Jean and Marco sold tickets to their entire soccer team and the coaching staff. Levi, who works at the university gym, is planning to bring all his coworkers. Erwin easily convinced all the professors at the business school to attend. In addition, many of the brothers have volunteered to help with baking and setup during the event. 

There are, however, a few brothers noticeably absent. Unfortunately, that includes Eren.

It’s been two weeks since that night. Two weeks since you last saw him when he fucked the virginity out of you. Naturally, you’ve managed to avoid him, since the two of you are in completely different majors. And maybe, just maybe, you were actively declining Armin’s invitations to go to the Alpha Tau house for dinner. Lucky for you, Mikasa was also avoiding the house for her own reasons.

Turns out, on the same night you and Eren had sex, Mikasa invited a certain Alpha Tau brother by the name of Jean Kirstein to have a little sleepover in your shared room. So, your absence wasn’t noticed,  allowing you to keep the dirty deed between you and Eren a secret. 

After sneaking out of Eren’s room that morning, you finally checked your phone, expecting dozens of worried texts from your roommate. Instead, you were met with three surprising messages:

Mikasa: Need the room tonight, so sorry

Mikasa: Petra said you can stay with her at the house

Mikasa: I owe you

When you confronted her about it later that day, she acted nonchalant, even claiming it was just a drunken hookup. You know the drunk part of it isn’t true, considering how Mikasa would never let herself lose her inhibitions while under the influence. 

And now you know it wasn’t just a hookup, as she stares at her phone, smiling at a conversation her and Jean are having through text. With their new relationship still fresh, Mikasa has been staying away from the frat house until Jean properly informs his brothers about them.

You’re happy for your friend, seeing her all giddy and smiley like this. And because of Jean, of all people, who’s been smitten since he laid eyes on her. Good for them, you think, trying not to be disappointed at your own shitty situation with Eren.

With the ingredients for your chocolate chip cookies all mixed into a delicious batter, you start scooping them into rounds onto a baking sheet. Mikasa is already finished with her last batch of snickerdoodles, waiting for them to cool so she can start packing. She leans against the countertop, giggling at a private joke shared between her and her new beau. You can’t help but feel jealous. 

Your RA, Yelena, comes into the kitchen and takes a big whiff. “It smells amazing in here,” she compliments, reaching for one of the snickerdoodles. Her hand gets swatted away by Mikasa, who’s suddenly aware again. “This is for tomorrow,” she says.

“But I’m letting you use my kitchen! Can’t I at least get a taste?”

“You can eat the misshapen ones over there by the fridge,” Mikasa directs, pointing to a small stack of irregular cookies. Yelena lets out a satisfied, “Yes!” as she makes her way to the treats. She asks you, “I already paid you for the ticket, right?”

“Yeah, you Venmo’d me a few days ago,” you remind her. 

“Were you able to sell all your tickets?”

“Yeah. We only had to sell five tickets each, since we have the Alpha Tau’s helping us. I sold the rest of mine to some Eta Iota’s.”

“And I sold mine to Jean, Armin and some Delta Mu’s,” Mikasa chimes in, putting her phone away in her pocket. 

“Eren didn’t buy one?” you ask. 

She rolls her eyes. “He said he doesn’t like sweets, so he’s not coming.”

The more you find out about the mysterious Eren Jaeger, the less surprised you are about how little you have in common. This makes it easier to move on from him. So you think.

Mikasa adds, “Also, he said he’s going to the beach during the day and that he’ll be too tired to drag his ass to our event.” 

You can’t help but wonder who he’s going to the beach with. Probably Reiner and some girls. Great. He’s already moved on and you’re still stuck on him. Maybe it’s time you move on too.

Mike’s flirtation with you that one night still pops in your head from time to time. You lied about having a boyfriend, thinking it was easier than being truthful. How do you even explain your secret desire to lose your virginity to mysterious bad boy Eren Jaeger? 

But with the deed done and Eren moving on, it’s time you do the same. Mike is always nice, respectful, and fun. Almost a complete opposite of cold, distant, and serious Eren. Tonight, you’ll flirt with the senior and tell him that you broke up with your boyfriend. Hopefully he still finds you cute, and if not, you’ll find another Alpha Tau brother to hook up with. And with some sexual experience gained from your one-night stand, you can flirt with more confidence than ever before. It’ll be good. You can set yourself on the right track now, forgetting about your slight detour with Eren. Forgetting him completely to focus on finding a nice guy who will treat you right. 

Once all your batches of cookies are baked, you and Mikasa pack up and deliver them to the Sigma Nu Kappa house before heading to dinner at the dining hall. You run into Annie and Hitch outside the house, inviting them to tag along. 

As you all eat your meal together, chatting away about sorority life and trivial gossip, Hitch mentions, “I might be a little late to the bake sale tomorrow. Please, please, please save me some of your best desserts!”

“It’s first come, first serve, loser,” Annie comments. “Not our fault you’re going to the beach with Asshole 1 and Asshole 2.”

“Where are you going?”

Hitch answers, “Sandra is dragging me to the beach with some of the Alpha Tau’s.” She gives Annie and Mikasa a guilty look before continuing, “I’m going with Reiner, Bertolt, and Eren.”

Annie rolls her eyes. Mikasa stares down at her salad. You try to maintain a neutral expression. 

“Yup. Hitch here is going to the beach with the only Alpha Tau brothers who didn’t help us with our event.”

“I had no idea they didn’t contribute!”

“You have nothing to feel guilty about. Annie is just giving you a hard time,” you console her.

“Of course I’m giving her a hard time. Reiner is a fucking asshole. And Eren is a fuck boy.”

“Hey!” Mikasa snaps, glaring at her.

Annie scoffs. “Seriously, Mikasa? Still defending your precious childhood friend? Admit it. He’s a dick.”

“Stop it, Annie,” you try to mediate. 

“What? He was an asshole to you. He didn’t even apologize.”

“It doesn’t matter, it wasn’t a big deal. Also, you started it,” you tease.

“I knew you were going to throw that it my face,” she says, flicking a crouton at you. 

Mikasa continues to look down at her food, not offering anything to the conversation about her best friend. Deciding it was best for the whole group to move on from this discussion, you change the subject to something else and Eren isn’t mentioned again the rest of the dinner. 

That night, both you and Mikasa already in bed, you hear her shift around to call out your name. You turn to face her, surprised that she’s still awake. 

“Do you think Annie was being serious when she said Eren is a fuck boy?”

Shit. How do you respond to that? Knowing fully well that he’s fucked you? You hate lying to Mikasa, but you hate it more thinking about how she’d react if you told her the truth. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know really know him.” This is actually true. You have no idea what Eren does or even who Eren does, aside from you. Everything about him is a mystery, which might be the reason you’re so drawn into him. But it’s also the reason you’re weary of him.

“But have you heard anything? Like from Hitch or anyone else from the other sororities?” She sounds concerned.

“I haven’t heard anything, no. But so what if he is? It’s college, we should be experimenting, as long as we’re safe. Right?” You feel like you’re saying this more for yourself than for him.

“I get that. I’m not worried about that part of it. But for some reason, I’ve been getting this bad feeling. He seems so cold and distant these days. It’s not like him. I just don’t want him to hurt anyone.”

“Hurt?”

“I know he won’t physically hurt someone. But I don’t know. He can get intense sometimes. He’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants, and sometimes he doesn’t think about how his actions can hurt people. He can be a little selfish.”

Why is she telling you this? This feels too personal, too real. Too relevant for your current situation. It’s like she’s talking directly to your soul. Warning you. 

“I’m just thinking out loud. I know you don’t know really know him. Sometimes I wish you could have met him before all of this. You would see how great of a person he can be.” She turns to lay on her back, gazing up at the ceiling. 

You give her a sympathetic look, even though she can’t see you in the dark. There isn’t anything you can say to make her feel better. It sounds like she just wants someone to listen. 

She mourns her friend as if he’s completely disappeared and become a new person. A bad person. Someone who hurts people. Sure, he’s said some unpleasant things to you the night you first met. But has he ever hurtyou? There aren’t enough feelings involved to get hurt. You both went into this knowing it was just sex. Nothing more. 

But there’s always that tiny, miniscule part of your brain that nags you. Reminds you how fucking good he makes you feel. No matter how many times you tell yourself it’s just sex, you can’t help wishing it was something more. 

After a few silent minutes pass, you hear her snore lightly, drifting off to sleep. Leaving you wide awake with new thoughts running through your head. 

How can someone who makes you feel so good hurt you?

~~~ 

Saturday morning, Eren is smushed in the backseat of a Honda Civic with Hitch and Sandra. Reiner rides shotgun while Bertolt drives them an hour away to the beach. 

It was Reiner’s idea to have a beach day with the two Eta Iota’s. He used this as an excuse to get out of helping Sigma Nu Kappa with their charity event. A pretty shitty thing for him to do, but unsurprising, nonetheless. 

And Eren is no different, agreeing to go with them. 

Halfway to their destination, Hitch starts talking about the bake sale. “Annie baked banana bread for today’s event. It smells so good. Can’t wait to try it later. I’m sure you would like it, Bertolt.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps, eyes still focused forward, fingers clenching the steering wheel a little tighter.

“I’m just saying. I think you’d like Annie’s dessert.”

Reiner rolls his eyes. “Give it a rest, Hitch. He’s over her. It was just a childhood crush. Besides, Bertolt can do so much better than a Sigma Nu Kappa.”

“Hey! They’re nice girls,” Hitch argues.

“Yeah, they are. I don’t know why you hate them so much,” Sandra chimes in.

“Girls like that don’t belong in a sorority. They’re losers. It’s pathetic how cool they think they are just because they’re friends with a couple of Alpha Tau’s now. If that whole shitstorm didn’t happen to us last semester, nobody would even be paying attention to them.”

Sandra and Hitch glare at the back of Reiner’s head, but don’t respond to his rant. Instead, Hitch turns to Eren and asks, “You like the SNKs, right Eren? Mikasa told me you two have known each other since you were kids.”

Eren strategically ignores her first question and questions, “How do you know Mikasa?”

“I met most of the girls during recruitment, but Mikasa and I started seeing each other in the same kickboxing class at the gym. I also hang out with her roommate.” She states her name, then continues. “We all eat dinner together sometimes.”

Eren’s chest tightens at the mention of her. He’s not sure why. He cracks open the window to get a whiff of fresh air, wondering where she is right now and what she’s doing. She’s probably baking something for their event later today. There’s a pang of guilt in his stomach, realizing he never bought a ticket and will miss it. Miss her. He wouldn’t have minded seeing her tonight and getting a taste of her dessert. 

He's reminded of their time together two weeks ago. The morning after, she snuck out of his room without a word. Not even a note. He wanted to make sure she was okay. That she didn’t have any regrets choosing him to lose her virginity too. But he pretended to still be asleep when he heard her get up. 

Since then, he’s spent all of the last two weeks trying not to think about her. He did what he wanted to do. Got it out of his system. But for some reason, she still occupies his mind. 

He keeps telling himself that he’ll eventually find someone else to hook up with and forget all about her. But every time he’s with other women, whether it’s the Eta Iota’s or the Delta Mu’s, his mind always goes back to her. And whenever he sees her, he loses it. He wants nothing more than to feel her all over him, be all over her. Make her feel good. Make himself feel good. 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. He’s not supposed to catch feelings for the first girl he has sex with in college. After the most boring freshman year, Eren was determined to turn his life around. All summer, he worked out, telling himself it was for health reasons when really, he just wanted to look better to attract women. It was all planned out: He’d join a frat to follow his older brother’s lifestyle: Party, drink, fuck, repeat. He’d be free to do whatever he wants, whoever he wants, whenever he wants. 

Then he met her. 

And now, she’s ruining everything. 

How can he live out this fuck boy dream of his when his mind is always stuck on her? It’s an unexpected snag in his plans and he doesn’t like it. He needs to do something about it. Skipping the bake sale is a start. The main goal is to avoid her at all costs. 

But is that really a good idea? She’s the only girl he knows that’s so eager to please him. Why should he let someone like that go? There’s no doubt that their sexual chemistry is unmatched. What’s wrong with keeping her around until he finds someone else? 

They spend the next few hours at the beach, enjoying the sun and sand. Eren pretends he’s having fun, when in reality, he’s thinking of all the ways to avoid her and to have her all at once. He’s torn; both sides of his brain playing tug-of-war with each other, neither side any closer to winning.

How can he have her and not have her all at the same time?

~~~

The bake sale is a massive success. Numbers are double than all previous years, all credit going to Sigma Nu Kappa’s partnership with Alpha Tau. Besides the ticket sales, the brothers help by offering the kitchen at their fraternity house for some of the sisters to bake. Mike even offers his party house, which a few took advantage of. During the event, the Alpha Tau’s also help distribute the sweets to the attendees, including Hitch, who arrives late, but is excited to try out as many desserts as possible. You try your best not to pester about her about the beach date with Eren. She doesn’t give you much, only reiterating Annie’s sentiments of Reiner from last night’s dinner. “Yeah, Reiner is an asshole.”

During cleanup, Mike makes an announcement that he’s hosting a party at his place to celebrate the end of the event. You make it your mission tonight to flirt with him, maybe even kiss. Anything to take your mind off of Eren. 

You and Mikasa head back to your room to shower and get ready. She leaves early to meet Jean before the party. For the first time, you’re heading out alone. 

Even with Mike’s party being the only plans you have, you still shove the small bag of cookies into your purse. Just in case. If anything, you can give it to someone else and pretend you aren’t thinking about Eren. You know you’re not going to see him. He’s probably going to another Eta Iota party to fuck some other girl. But there’s still that pathetic, hopeless part of you that wishes you would see him. 

As you walk across campus, taking the usual route to Mike’s house, you pass by Eren’s dormitory. The memory of him literally dragging you here in a hurry pops up in your head. Every little thing reminds you of him. You have to stop. 

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice him approaching until he’s right in front of you.

~~~

“Hey,” Eren greets. He’s in his black sweats and a grey t-shirt, sweat marks down his chest from the workout he just completed at the gym. He wasn’t expecting to see her tonight. There’s that weird tightness in his chest again. “What are you doing here?”

She looks flustered, explaining, “I was just passing by. I’m heading to Mike’s right now.”

Mike. Fuck that guy. “Were you waiting for me or something?”

This startles her. “What? No. I just…I got distracted. I didn’t even know you were here. I thought maybe you’d be at another party or something.”

“Nah. Just got back from the gym. Probably just gonna stay in tonight.” He sits at a nearby bench, waving her over to follow.

She does, sitting a safe distance apart. “We raised a decent amount of money today. In case you were wondering.”

“That’s good. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.” Shit. Why is he apologizing? He should head up to his room and stop this. Let her go to fucking Mike’s party and leave him alone.

From her purse, she pulls out a small plastic bag of cookies, offering it to him. “Mikasa said you don’t like sweets. But I saved you some just in case you want to try.”

It’s true; he’s not a big fan of desserts. But to be offered it is still nice. Especially from her. He almost feels touched that she thought of him enough to save this for him. “Were you hoping to see me today?”

“It crossed my mind, yeah.” She gazes down, embarrassed, setting the bag of treats on her lap. It’s silent for a few moments. He studies her, unsure what’s going on in that cute head of hers. His resolve is wavering. He needs to go upstairs now.

“Hitch told me you all went to the beach today. Sounds like fun,” she says, smiling. Fuck, she’s cute. That smile is so fucking cute. 

“It was okay.” 

He pauses, debating with himself. If he says it, it’s over. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Her eyes widen, shocked by his statement. “Huh?” she blurts out.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he repeats, with more confidence. 

“Why were you thinking about me?”

“I don’t know. You’re on my mind a lot these days.” He decides to just let all his intrusive thoughts flow out, not wanting to lie or pretend anymore. More than anything, he wants to be with her again. Have her under him. Have her in his room upstairs right now. 

“I thought you didn’t find me interesting enough.” There’s a coy grin on her face. 

“I’ve changed my mind. I think you’re very interesting.” He scoots towards her, his pinky grazing her hand as he leans in closer, lips tickling the shell of her ear. “I want a taste of your cookie.” 

He presses soft kisses along her neck, his hand sliding across her thigh. “I’m really craving it right now,” he purrs, his fingertips dangerously close to her clothed pussy. 

“Eren,” she breathes out, turning her head to him to kiss him on the lips. He fucking loves it when she says his name all breathy like this. He smirks, sliding his tongue inside her mouth. He’s too far gone to pull back, so he doesn’t. He’s going for it. Fuck it. If this is a sinking ship, he’ll happily go down with it.

“Skip the party. Come over to my room. We’ll have our own fun, just the two of us,” he tells her. Voice low, enticing, dripping with lust. He’s doing everything he can to convince her. And it’s working.

She kisses him back, mouth open and eager, so fucking eager. He grabs her by the wrist and leads her upstairs into the room, déjà vu from the last time they were together. Once inside, they stumble towards to the bed, where she immediately sits herself down at the edge, waiting obediently for his next command. 

“I’m all sweaty. Can you wait for me while I take a quick shower? I promise I’ll be fast.” He strips his shirt off, sweat glistening on his chest and abdomen. She nods lazily at his question, distracted by his bare body. “You’re staring,” he teases her. 

She swallows loud before responding, “I can’t help it. You’re so sexy right now.”

Fuck. He can’t help but let any praise that comes out of her mouth go straight to his head, and his dick. He walks to her, hands at her sides, leaning in close. She looks so vulnerable as he looms over her, his gaze almost threatening. The smell of his sweat and musk is heavy in the small space between them.

In a hushed voice, he asks, “Can you do me a favor while I’m gone?” 

She nods dumbly again, hypnotized by whatever sexual energy he’s emanating. 

He bows his head, lips skimming her ear gently, whispering, “Touch yourself. Make yourself come. I don’t care how you do it. I just need you to be so fucking wet that I can drown in that pretty pussy as soon as I come back. You understand?” 

“Fuck,” she moans, sounding so desperate and needy for him. It’s torture for her as much as it is for him, but he knows it’ll be worth it. 

“Don’t skimp out on me, okay? You better be fucking soaked when I come back. I’ll punish you if you’re not,” he warns her. He kisses her cheek before pulling away to toss a towel over his shoulder and walk out the door, leaving her alone in the room. 

~~~

You’re already aching for his return. Not wasting another second, you lay back and remove your pants, keeping your underwear on. Sure enough, you’re already wet, a damp spot forming on your panties from your slick. With Eren’s naughty favor being your focus, you spread out your thighs, fingers reaching down to rub small circles on your clit. You feel torn between fulfilling his request or seeing what punishment he has in store for you if you don’t. Either way, thinking of him makes you horny as you continue to pleasure yourself on his bedsheets, waiting for him to come back. 

After a few agonizing minutes, you hear the handle turn slowly. He walks in, wet hair wrapped in a messy bun, towel tied to his waist, and small droplets of water shimmering on his skin. You don’t stop; your middle finger slides up and down your folds, gathering slick from your entrance to spread around your puffy clit. He bites his lower lip while he observes you, removing the towel from his body to reveal his already erect cock. 

“I knew you could do it,” he praises, stepping towards the edge of the bed. “Keep playing with it. Let me watch.” He pulls your panties to the side to expose your dripping cunt.

You touch yourself faster, flustered by the wet sounds coming from your arousal. It only seems to rile him up, his eyes hyper focused on your slippery fingers caressing your bud, huffing out demands at you. “Faster. Play with it faster, baby.” You feel his hot breath on your skin, teasing you, turning you on. After a few minutes, he stops you. 

“It’s my turn now.”

He kneels onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs, staring at your clothed pussy. “Look how drenched your panties are. Didn’t even bother taking them off.” Hooking his thumbs under the sides, he slides them off your legs. Instead of tossing them to the floor, like you expect, he wraps it around his hard cock and strokes himself with it. You sit up on your elbows to get a better view. 

“I like having your cute panties on my dick like this. Makes me so fucking horny,” he moans, jerking himself rapidly. “But you know what makes me really fucking horny?”

“What?” you ask, voice breathless and pussy throbbing as you anticipate his answer. 

“Eating you out. Tasting your cum on my tongue.”

You moan, collapsing back onto the bed, his face pressed to your pussy, planting small kisses onto your clit. It sends electricity all the way down to your toes. His kisses deepen, mouth open and lapping away at your bud hastily. You feel his tongue swirl around you in the most delightful way, causing you to grind your hips against his face.

“That’s it, baby. You did such a good job, holy fuck. You hear how wet you are? So fucking wet for me.” He slobbers all over you, the squelching noises obscene and nasty from the way he moves against your clit. “Such a good fucking girl. Such a good fucking girl,” he chants, licking up and down, side to side. You hear him spit on you, using his tongue to spread his saliva all over your cunt, repeating it two more times. It’s so fucking nasty, so fucking good.

“Eren, fuck. I love it. I love it. Please don’t stop,” you beg, fully enraptured by him. For a split second, you’re worried about throwing that word around haphazardly, but you say it anyway.

“I love eating you out. Always taste so fucking good, fuck,” he murmurs, eyes closed as he indulges in your wetness. His face is buried between your legs, sucking and slurping every drop. You’re a moaning mess for him, the pleasure so surreal you almost forget where you are. The walls are thin; the neighbors must be hearing this. You reach for the pillow beside you to cover your mouth, only to have it snatched away from you in an instant. 

“Don’t fucking do that. I want to see your pretty face as I lick your pussy clean.” 

Something within you snaps. You feel a rush of euphoria ripple through your body as you orgasm on his tongue. You hear him moan into you, purring, “Yes, yes. Come all over my face, baby. Give it to me. Fuck.” 

You blackout for a few seconds, overstimulated and spent from the ecstasy. You’re brought back from your daze as soon as he’s beside you. That cocky smirk on his lips, glossy with your cum. He brushes the hair out of your face to cup your cheek, grazing your bottom lip with his thumb. Nothing is said between you two as you gaze at each other, eyes soft with passion, skin hot and prickly with desire. When your lips meet, the kisses are gentle and sweet, making you flutter below your belly. 

Before you know it, your body takes over and you’re on top of him, straddling his hips, his hard cock pinned beneath your pussy and is abdomen. You finally remove your blouse and unhook your bra, baring your breasts to him. He looks up at you, eyes wide with arousal as he slides his hands to your hips. “You gonna ride me till I come, baby? Gonna let me fill your cunt up with my load?”

This is the nastiest he’s ever been with you. It makes you dumb, reckless, and thoughtless. “I want it, baby. I want to feel you come inside me,” you whine, moving your plush folds along his shaft. 

“Then do it. It’s okay. I’m clean. I haven’t touched anyone else. Only you,” he says, caressing your hips as you grind against him. 

Processing what he said, you reveal to him, “I’m on birth control.”

At those words, his soft expression turns naughty. “Good girl.”

Even if you weren’t on birth control, you’re certain you would still let him hit it raw. Which is irresponsible, you know that. But right now, you’re so fucked up and brainless for him that you don’t care.

You lift yourself off him to position his tip at your entrance, guiding it in gently as you sink onto his shaft. It’s tight, but it slides in smoothly, pussy sleek from your climax. He sucks in a breath as you take all of him in. 

Taking a few seconds to adjust to his length, you lean over him, placing a tender kiss on his lips. You start to rock your hips back and forth, riding him, making his cock disappear inside your pussy with each thrust. The grip on your hips tightens as he growls, “Fuck, baby. Just like that. Do it just like that. Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

The praise encourages you to pick up your pace, ass bouncing and tits jiggling like a fucking pornstar. He’s letting you be in control this time.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my cock. Fuck yourself on my cock, baby. Use me like your fucking sex toy. Use this fucking cock,” he spits out, praise getting filthier, your pace getting faster.

Maybe you’re not in control. Every fucking one of his demands you do without a second thought. You’re doing everything he wants. He’s got you eating out of the palm of his hand.

You continue to bounce on his cock relentlessly, hitting your sweet spot over and over. The both of you moan into each other’s mouths, exchanging sloppy kisses, unconcerned about being heard by others. All that matters right now is that you both reach your high together.

He pulls away from your lips to breathe out, “Suck on my fingers, baby. Get them nice and wet for me.”

Without question, you keep your mouth open for him as he slides his fingers down your throat. Like an obedient slut, you suck on him, dragging your tongue and lips all over his hand. He whispers praises at you. “That’s a good girl. You always do such a good job for me.”

Satisfied, he slips his fingers out and reaches down to play with your clit. The unexpected contact causes you to cry out, “Fuck!”

He chuckles, rubbing against you as you ride his cock harder and faster. “Such a nasty slut, getting my fingers all wet so I can play with your clit.” With his free hand, he slaps your ass, the loud smack echoing off the walls. 

“You like being a slut for me, don’t you?” Another smack. “Say you’re my slut.”

“I’m your –“ a breath catches in your throat. “I’m your slut.”

“Say your daddy’s little slut.” Smack. You feel drunk, intoxicated by the way his cock pounds into you as he spanks you and stimulates your clit. Truly treating you like a slut. And you love it. You can’t get enough of it.

“I’m daddy’s little slut. I’m daddy’s little slut,” you whine, another orgasm quickly approaching. Mind empty and careless as you spew out whatever thoughts come to you. “I’m yours, Eren. I’m yours.” It slips out carelessly, but it doesn’t matter.

“Yes. Yes. You’re mine. You’re all mine. Fuck,” he moans, pumping into you faster, fingers ruthless against your swollen bud. “Come for me, baby. You can do it. Come for me.”

You let go, coating his cock with your cum as you ride out your orgasm with him inside you. Ecstasy overwhelms you, feeling both satisfied and drained, your body relaxing above him. 

The two of you start kissing again. He thrusts into you slowly, whispering, “I’m going to come inside you, okay? Is that okay, sweetie?”

Sweetie. You’ve never heard him be affectionate before. It’s unusual. It throws you off. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy all over your spent body. Nodding your head against him, you kiss him softly until he comes inside you after a few more deep thrusts. You feel his cock twitch, hot cum coating your insides. And if you weren’t already depleted from your most recent climax, you’re sure this would get you off again, feeling his load spill out of your fluttering pussy.

When he’s done, he slides out, lifting your hips up gingerly to move you to his side. His cum trickles out of you and onto his sheets. It’s dirty and erotic. The aftermath from a night of passion between you and him. 

This is the closest to cuddling the two of you have done, both exhausted and blissful in each other’s arms. He clears his throat before asking, “Was that good for you?”

“Yeah, it was.” You look down at the mess you made and giggle. “Obviously.”

He kisses your forehead. Another affectionate gesture that sends your synapses firing. “You’re not going to sneak out again, are you?”

“Huh?”

“You left last time without saying goodbye.”

He’s full of surprises today. You didn’t think he noticed nor cared that you snuck out that morning. “Oh. I…I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me in the morning. I thought it would be better to just leave.”

“You’re right. I wasn’t sure what I wanted at the time.” His hand massages small circles on your back. It’s relaxing. Comfortable. 

 “How about now? Do you know what you want now?”

“Yeah.” He pauses for a bit before saying, “I want you.” 

It’s sweet and romantic. It gives you butterflies in your stomach. It feels like a proper confession after so much build up, so much tension between the two of you. You feel your heart pounding, almost like it could burst out of you. You’re happy.

“But let’s keep this between you and me. I don’t want people knowing about us.”

And then, just like that, you feel a sinking feeling in your chest. Dread. “Oh. Why not?”

He shrugs. “I don’t really want people knowing my business. People talk. It’s annoying.”

My business. It’s not about you, not even about the two of you. It’s about him. Confused, and now slightly annoyed, you ask, “So you want people to think we’re just friends?”

“Not even that. Let’s just pretend we don’t know each other. Nobody will suspect anything.”

It feels like a slap to the face. Like the rug was pulled right from under you just when you started dancing on it. 

“It’ll be fun,” he adds, sensing your trepidation, an attempt at lightening the mood, making it seem like a silly game. 

You don’t respond, unsure how to. Maybe it’s not a big deal. You think back on the night he first kissed you. He said he didn’t like PDA. Is this the same thing? You find yourself making up as many excuses as you can to convince yourself that this isn’t all that bad.

“Hey.” He tips your head up to look at him. “It’ll be our little secret. Only we’ll know what we do with each other, no one else. Doesn’t that sound fun?” He caresses your bottom lip with his thumb.

You know it’s sketchy. Every fiber of your being is screaming at you. There’s another reason, a bigger reason, why he wants to keep this a secret. You know it, but you’re too chickenshit to confront him about it. Even too scared to admit it to yourself. Deep down, no matter how much you don’t want to believe it, Eren is embarrassed. Embarrassed of not being the fuck boy he had planned to be. Embarrassed of being associated with an unpopular sorority.

Embarrassed of you. 

But he’s got you wrapped around his finger; completely charmed by the luscious words he speaks and those striking green eyes that captivate your soul. You’re spellbound by him. Enchanted. Trapped. You’ve let him manipulate you into thinking you’re special. So special he wants to keep you a secret.

So, you agree. It’ll be fun. You’re fine with being his dirty little secret. 

Because having him behind closed doors is better than not having him at all. 

----------

Tag list: @roronoazorosbxtchh @f4irycafe @hello-juuliana @sideofthemoonn @imaddicted-b @belovedackerman @alicebleu @bunnyxgirlxo @butterfly-skinnylegend @bettydes8

[searchingsomewhere]

All Too Well, Part 18

{"Don't know how much more I can take. I just know that I need to get better."}

Cw for some descriptive very mild gore? Just throwing it out there.

poly!Gojo x OC x Geto

All Too Well Masterlist

Part 17

Suguru Geto was not well.

He hadn't been, since that summer. And he was only falling further into the spiral.

The man who was hired to kill Riko was named Toji Fushiguro. Was named. That past tense was important to note, as he was no longer alive. Suguru later learned that, while he had dragged his body over to Miho to check for her pulse, Satoru had gone after the assassin. Refusing defeat and delirious from blood loss, the then sixteen year old Gojo heir had done what his peers failed to do and killed the man.

Miho was nearly dead when Satoru stumbled down there, pressing his hand to her chest to rush Reversed Cursed Energy through her body before he collapsed next to them. Suguru could do nothing but lie there between them, crying quietly. Praying to whatever god was listening. Begging for karma to take him instead of them.

The extensive damage Toji did to Miho's spinal cord had nearly paralyzed her. It took almost eight months for her to walk again with specialized care from the school doctor and Shoko. The doctors told her it was unlikely she'd ever walk without a cane.

Yes. Suguru Geto was, in fact, not well.

Everyone tried moving past it. Even Miho, who he cheered on as she was learning to walk again. Who still worried over him while telling him that she was fine, even though he caught her crying and telling Satoru she wasn't sure if she could continue physical therapy. And Satoru...he was leagues above them. The tether that had been holding him back with the rest of them had broke. The gap between his skill and Suguru's was wider than ever. They were no longer evenly matched. No longer the strongest. That was a title meant only for the white haired boy with the Six Eyes.

When Suguru tried to look at Miho, all he saw was her covered in blood. Blade striking through her chest, ripping through flesh and bone. He could still hear it. The sicking crack of her ribs shattering, the splash of her blood against the floor as it gushed out of her. She couldn't remember, but he did. At night, when he closed his eyes, he saw her lying on the ground, glassy eyes staring lifelessly at him.

"Even with those blessings, you two were still beaten by a monkey like me who can't even use cursed energy."

He couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. Something dark had been stirring in deep in his chest for so long. It was forcing itself up his throat and out of his mouth. A nasty, acidic, bile-like taste for humanity. A humanity that used children like weapons. That protected the weak and held back the strong. That sacrificed innocent, bright lives for the sake of Jujustu society. And the humanity that required those sacrifices for the simple sake of keeping the calm-

A loud knock on the door roused him from his endless session of staring at the wall. Suguru looked over at the door before rolling back over in bed. They'd go away soon.

The door opened. Light flooded the dim room. Three shadows peeked in.

"Suguru?" Satoru asked quietly, poking his head in. He looked over at the bed. "Hey, man. Mind if we stop by?"

Suguru rolled over to face him. He tried his best to give him a smile, but it was tired. "Of course."

He knew he looked different. Gaunt. Exhausted. He briefly wondered if his appearance would scare them off. But Satoru came in anyway, followed by Shoko. He heard the soft tap tap of Miho's crutches as she slowly made her way into the room. She had cut her hair recently. It hung to her shoulders now, sweeping to the side. She was cute. Suguru knew that, under their clothes and even further under their muscles and bones, both his girlfriend and boyfriend had scars that would never quite heal.

Satoru sat down on the side of the bed. "You okay?"

His voice was soft. Gentle. I'm here, it said. I see you.

Shoko reached over his bed to open the window. Sunlight filtered in, lazy and warm. She opened the window and took a seat on the sill.

"We're worried about you," she said, lighting a cigarette. She held it out to him. He took it and nodded to her in thanks.

Suguru sat up, patting Satoru's hand. He pulled his legs up, making room for Miho. Satoru took her crutches from her and set them down before helping her onto the bed. Suguru noted the pain that flickered across her face as she moved. Miho straightened her face, smiling at him with that beautiful, welcoming smile.

"We're here for you, Suguru," Miho said, reaching out to grab his hand.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "You're the one we should be worried about, Miho. I'm fine-"

"You're horrible at lying," Satoru scoffed.

He took a hit of the cigarette, holding it in for a second before slowly exhaling. His friends were looking at him. Watching him carefully.

"I'm just...struggling," he admitted finally, "I've been having nightmares again...about him."

The four of them sat in silence for a moment. Miho squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue. So he did. He told them about his nightmares, the spiral he was falling into. Maybe it was the cigarette, or the way they all hung on to his every word, but getting it all out there felt good. He couldn't see a way out. That's what he said.

"...by a monkey like me who can't even use cursed energy."

But he knew what he needed to do.

"If you want to live a long life, you'll remember that."

He couldn't take it any longer. Something in his subconscious snapped.

[vntako]

vn* in a bottle: petit game collection vol.1

hm, i guess there's a bit of an irony talking about this before needy girl, but here we are. i played this with my darling and had a really nice time

this game is a spin-off of needy girl overdose / needy streamer overload. it's collection of 3 minigames and a developer's notes room. it's retro goodness, not that i'm that old to know. i did play toradora portable though, and that had some extra content similar to this. i guess that main difference is that you're paying for this extra content, huh. i feel it's pretty worth it if you really like needy girl

only one of the minigames is a vn, so let's talk about that last

break out kangel

it's kangel breakout. this one is entirely in japanese. it'd be fine if there wasn't a little bit of dialogue, but otherwise you're not missing anything

i'm not sure how common it is to have strip breakout as an extra minigame in vns, i've only played one other that has something like this, but it kinda feels like a staple to include if that makes sense? i could be wrong. i don't exactly know what to search online to find that kind of info, too

anyway this is just strip breakout. break the blocks, collect the falling power ups and uh remove kangel's seifuku. simple as that. she's ofc wearing smth under that, there's no nudity in this game

don't die, kangel!!

this one may generally be found to be more enjoyable than breakout. it's a shmup where you shoot your fans with meds. i like the art, it's super cute. though i could say about every kangel and ame art in this game

there's a bit of story that's mildly engaging, i found it neat. you're typically here for the gameplay though

the street is just a background, you stay entirely on this screen. you have pills to use as ammo, and your only objective is to not die (like the title tells you). after a few waves of nerds, a boss appears. and there's three bosses to beat

after a wave you get to pick a new pill. picking the same type of pill upgrades it. they're pretty self-explanatory. then it randomly shuffles some of it into your ammo every time you reload. also you reload with RMB, which also lets you dash a bit

it doesn't take that long to beat (this is stage 1's clear screen though). i had a fair bit of fun with this one. you do have to beat the boss, but you can let every other nerd just pass you

kangel's room

this is the credits. the people who worked on the game have stuff to say, so listen properly!!

ame's happy happy dating game

i couldn't screenshot this one properly, so please forgive the clutter. i don't really wanna crop it all so in exchange i offer you uh, you get to see my wallpaper

it's been that for a few months now

ame wants to go on a date with you, so you better choose well!! i think the most interesting part of this game is that it let p-chan monologue their thoughts. they're kinda messed up

ignoring the fact that i only took this screenshot now, you get to pick where you wanna take ame on a date for the next few days

since you get to pick, there's a good and bad ending, naturally. better not give her a bad time, mmkay?

i realized once some cgs showed up that this is where people have been getting those nice ame wallpapers from. the art for the vn is nice, it's really neat and clean, and ame looks super cute. the music is mixed a bit weirdly at times (kangel's theme is so loud) but overall i liked the aesthetic direction here

p-chan is here to give us a description of the world as someone really close to ame. however they describe things reflects how ame sees it. ame is fleshed out so much more than we see her in the base game through p-chan's monologues here (the base game does it great though lemme just clarify). i mean more to say that this format lets people stay and really be with ame past the webcam app on p-chan's screen. it feels a bit dangerous, to occupy the same space as her. and of course it is, ame being who she is. though that goes the same for all humans

i think the bad ending represents a lack of consideration and care one might have towards people. i went for it "just to see what it would be" without regard for how someone might feel about it. it tracks given the conditions for that bad end, too. impulse, disregard, the absence of seeing while doing.

going for the good end kinda feels like a chore, given you have to see everything in the game. though, it's supposed to feel more like a prayer, i think. a connection with ame, of sorts? seeking out and trying to understand her through the places she goes and hearing what she thinks. it might not be something you'd consider pleasant, but few things in life really are. even less so for humans. ame is a human

it's easy to connect with angels, all you need is the internet. i want to connect with human beings, too

[lumosandnoxwriting]

and he was maroon || George Weasley

Title: and he was maroon Pairing: George x Reader, Reader x Unnamed Male Summary: sometimes it’s the simplest things that take us back in time Warnings: mentions of alcohol/the drinking of alcohol. Also George is kind of an asshole but he’s young and lets be real he was probably a bit of a douchebag in his youth. A/N: welcome to the 2nd installment of midnights: an anthology! A little bit of a different take on the relationship between George and the reader. Tagging some of my mooties: @jenniweaslee @darthwheezely @lycanlupins @wandsandwheezes @pineapplesandpinas

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

It doesn’t happen very often. 

There’s really only one, maybe two days a year. Usually in the summertime, when the sunset is uninhibited by clouds and Y/N can sit on the back deck, letting the slight breeze send goosebumps across her arms as she watches the sky change colors. As those beautiful light pinks and oranges sink into a deep maroon, it’s only then does she think about him. 

George Weasley. 

There’s just something about that color, about the way it paints across the sky, that brings the distant memories of him back to the forefront of her mind. She’d been young when they met, only out of Beauxbatons a few years and back living in England for the first time since she was a little girl. 

Her new roommate had introduced her to her former Hogwarts classmates, and it was at some social function or another that she’d met him. 

-

“Weasley!” Someone shouts as the door swings open, a chorus of loud cheers following suit. 

Y/N has no idea what a Weasley is, but she yells along anyway, whatever is in her cup making her drunk enough not to care about much. She’s been living in London for three months and is finally settling in. Her roommate has done a wonderful job of introducing her to a wide network of people and she’s starting to finally feel like they’re her people too. 

It doesn’t take long for her to learn what exactly a Weasley is. In the next moment the crowd parts and two identical men come through, drinks already in their hands as they greet everyone they pass. 

Y/N is immediately enchanted, and she can feel her cheeks redden as the boys land at the group of people she’s standing with. It’s striking how similar the two are in looks and in spite of this fact she finds herself drawn to the one on the left. There’s just something about him, about the way his hair has started to stick to the back of his neck from the heat of the room, the gleam in his eye and the easy grin on his face. 

She’s too busy admiring him to notice that her attention has been returned, and the ginger man is stepping out from under the arm his brother has slung around his shoulders so he can come closer. It’s not until he’s right there, stepping into her personal space that she notices his presence and Y/N can feel her heart beating out of her chest. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” he starts, giving Y/N a bow. “George Weasley, and you?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she responds with a giggle, giving him some semblance of a curtsy. “Pleasure to meet you.”

George grins then, stepping even more into Y/N’s space. “Oh darling, the pleasure is all mine.”

-

It didn’t take long for her to fall head over heels for George. In the moment it felt like fate, like the world must have destined them to be together. It seemed to happen so quickly, so easily - how could it not be meant to be?

-

“You should have seen the look on her face! That miserable witch had no idea what hit her as Fred and I rode off on our brooms.”

Y/N falls into a fit of laughter as George regails her with another story of the things he and his brother used to get up to in their Hogwarts days. She’s on the last dregs of her second glass of wine, feeling warm and bubbly from some mixture of alcohol and her company. 

Being around George is intoxicating, just his presence in a room has her drunk with happiness. She’s never felt like this before, and Y/N never wants it to end. The few boys she’d dated at Beauxbatons were nothing like George. They were boys she’d known most of her life, so there was never anything new or exciting to discover about them. It’s hard to be enthralled hearing about how your boyfriend fell off his broom and broke his arm during a Quidditch game when you were there at the game yourself. 

But with George, everything is new and exciting. Y/N’s never even been to Hogwarts, so she hangs off every word that falls from George’s mouth as he details the school and his adventures there. Sometimes she wished she could just bottle up the feeling she gets when he talks, wanting to save it for later. 

“Are you even listening to me anymore,” George teases. They’re sitting across from each other on the floor in her apartment, and he gets up on his hands and knees starting to slowly crawl towards her. 

“Mhm, yeah, totally,” Y/N grins, stifling a giggle in the back of her throat. 

“Oh yeah?” George goads as he creeps closer, a grin on his face. “Then what was I just saying?”

Y/N bites her lip as he gets closer and closer, anticipation tickling the bottoms of her feet as it starts to creep up her legs. Before she can even answer George is there, hand reaching for her ankle. She lets out a shriek before taking off, leaving her wine glass on the ground as she takes off across the apartment. 

Their laughter mixes together as George gets up to follow, chasing Y/N into the kitchen and around the table. She leads him back into the living room, socked feet making her slide all over the place as she tries to get away. Just as she’s about to round the coffee table a strong pair of hands grabs her around the waist and a shocked gasp leaves her lips as George pulls her back into his chest. 

“Got you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crook of her neck. George spins Y/N in his grasp, arms winding around her waist as he starts to sway them back and forth to the music playing forgotten in the background. “Didn’t think you’d get away from me that easily, did you?”

Y/N shakes her head as she wraps her arms around his neck, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Definitely not.”

-

Looking back now she sees that ease for what it truly was, two kids who didn’t really know anything about what it really means to love someone. Y/N knows now that she wasn’t really in love with George, she was in love with the idea of being in love with him. 

If only she knew then what she knows now. Certainly would have saved her some time - and a broken heart or two. 

-

Sorry, working late again xx

Y/N crumples the note in her hand, tossing it to the ground as she shoos George’s owl away. This is the third night this week they’ve made plans to do something and instead of him arriving at her door it’s his owl, canceling yet again. Last week he’d canceled on her twice, and the week before he was so busy they’d barely even spoken. 

She’d been understanding at first. It’s normal not to spend every day with your significant other, expected even. And of course Y/N had missed spending time with George, but work is work and that was okay with her. 

But what’s not okay is his affinity for canceling plans at the last minute. Sure, sometimes things come up - but waiting until he’s supposed to be coming by to pick her up to cancel is just rude, and inconsiderate of her time. Especially with it happening almost every time they’ve planned to do something together lately. 

If George doesn’t have the time to see her on a particular day Y/N would much rather he be honest and tell her that - rather than having her spend all this time planning something and getting ready for him to cancel at the last minute. 

Y/N blinks away the few tears of frustration that are gathering in the corners of her eyes before taking the time to change out of her clothes and into the comfiest pair of pajamas she owns. Once she’s redressed, Y/N sulks out to the living room - taking the glass of wine her roommate has in her hand and taking a large gulp as she slumps on the couch next to her. 

“Again?” Emily asks in disbelief.

“Mhm,” Y/N confirms with a hum, taking another sip from the glass. 

Emily shakes her head, leaning forward to grab the wine bottle off the coffee table. She refills Y/N’s glass, both of them watching the dark red liquid swirl around the edges of the glass. “What a fucking ass.”

All Y/N can do is grunt in agreement as she brings the full glass back up to her lips, head tilting back as she drains the maroon liquid in one drink. 

What an ass indeed.

-

Looking back now she realizes that was the beginning of the end of their relationship. They were seeing each other less and less, and neither of them were the best at communicating their feelings. But Y/N was so desperate to hold on to those fleeting good moments that she put up with all of the hurt and frustration that came along with them. 

-

“I asked you for one thing, George! One! And you couldn’t even be bothered to show up for me.”

Y/N stomps into her apartment, not bothering to check and see if George is still following behind. Tonight was supposed to be the night, her parents are in town and George didn’t have to work - it was going to be perfect. Things between them haven’t been the best recently, and Y/N dreamed that this would be the night things started to turn around. George would show up for her, and prove that he means all of those things he says. That he’s sorry for not being around, that he is there for her. That he loves her.

But then he’d been five minutes late to dinner, so they ordered a round of drinks, And then he was twenty minutes late when they ordered round two with an appetizer to share. When it hit the forty minute mark rolled around and George still wasn’t there, round three showed up and they ordered their entrees.

It wasn’t until much later, when dessert was practically over and Y/N was polishing off her fifth drink did George finally show up. A profuse apology was tumbling from his mouth the second he approached the table, his desperation to save the evening apparent in the expression on his face.

But the damage was already done. Y/N’s parents had spent most of the evening switching between consoling her over George’s absence, and giving her a dose of tough love that George is not the man she should plan on spending the rest of her life with. Without even bothering to spare George a glance, her parents had given Y/N a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before they left. 

Which brings them around to now. Y/N’s sadness had slowly morphed into anger as George followed her home, apology after apology intermixed with excuses falling from his lips. Because frankly, she doesn’t care if the Queen of England herself had been the one to hold up George - he knew how important tonight was and he still managed to fuck it up.

“I’ve said I’m sorry about a hundred times, Y/N,” George responds as he slams the door shut behind him. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

“I want you to give a shit!” she shouts, turning to face him. “You keep telling me you love me, and you care about me but you never actually show it! Words are meaningless unless you actually back them up with your actions. And so far all your actions have shown me is that you don’t give a nifflers ass about me!”

George huffs, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry I fucked up, Y/N. I really am. But work is important, you know that.”

“Yeah I know that,” Y/N responds defeatedly, anger quickly fizzling back into sadness. “But I should be important too.”

-

George had walked out that night, something that started to become quite the pattern. Something would happen, they would fight and George wouldn’t bother to stick around so they could work things out. He’d just give it a few days to calm down before showing up with a bouquet of flowers and an apology. 

Y/N always made the mistake of letting him back in, telling herself that things would be different this time. Of course they weren’t, and the cycle would just start all over again.

And now, as she watches the sun sink closer and closer to the horizon, she feels bad for the girl she once was. The girl who didn’t know how to stick up for herself, the girl who was too optimistic, too caring - too desperate to be in love to know what love really is. 

Now, with time and space and experience, she feels bad for the man George was back then too. At first she was angry, he was the villain in her origin story and Y/N was content to keep looking back at their time together that way. But she knows now, as an adult who has had her heart broken and broken a few herself, that George was just young and doing the best he could. 

It had been easy to blame George that night things ended, when he walked away for the final time. But maybe there hadn’t been anyone to blame at all. 

-

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she opens the door to a familiar scene. Once again George Weasley is on her doorstep, bouquet of flowers in hand with a lame apology. It’s comical, almost, how easily she predicted that this would happen. It had been endearing at first, the flowers and the heartfelt apologies. But after so many times it’s just lame and disappointing.

“Are you?” she asks lamely, not even bothering to take the flowers from his outstretched hand. “Because you were also sorry last week. And the week before that. And about a dozen weeks before that as well. So it’s getting a little hard to believe you.”

“I’m doing the best I can, Y/N,” George pleads, exasperation coating his words. 

Y/N shakes her head, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. “George, if this is your best, then I just don’t think this is going to work anymore. Clearly I need more from you than you’re willing to give. So I think it’s best if we just end things here. Before either of us gets hurt anymore than we already have been.”

It’s harsh to say, and Y/N feels sick as George flinches at her words. But they needed to be said. This relationship isn’t functioning, and she’s very quickly being pushed to her breaking point. She may love George, but she needs to love herself too. 

“Fine, if that’s what you think is best,” George responds blankly. “Take the flowers at least, I made sure to get your favorite.” He thrusts the bunch into Y/N’s hands, giving her one last forlorn look before he’s gone. Heading off down the hallway and away from her for the last time. 

Y/N shakes her head as she shuts the door behind her, a humorless laugh falling from her lips. It’s funny how this bouquet of flowers seems to be a metaphor for their entire relationship. Because roses happen to be her favorite flower - and yet in her hand is a bouquet of carnations.

-

Y/N used to once look back on that day as the worst of her life, the day she let her true love get away. But now those old thoughts make her laugh, because in reality she was making room in her life for her real true love. 

The sun has nearly set now, leaving a chill in the air as stars start to light up the sky. She shivers, thinking about heading back inside when the door opens behind her. There’s a soft blanket draped over her shoulders, and a smile teases the corner of her mouth as she looks up at her husband.

“Thought you might be cold,” he explains, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “Kids are getting brushing their teeth, I imagine they’ll be looking for story time any minute now.”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head as if to rid herself of those thoughts. The ones that used to keep her up at night. 

Thoughts of George. 

“I’ll meet you up there.”

With a final kiss to her forehead, Y/N’s husband heads back inside to give her a few more minutes alone. As she looks back to the sky, the sun is gone and the deep maroon that once covered the horizon is pitch black.

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Hello from Camp Northfield! Well, technically, I'm sitting on a bench outside the Dickinson Memorial Library down the street from camp, but still. I barely have access to technology here since the camp has no service whatsoever apart from phone calls out of the office, so I had to walk 45 minutes to get to the library to post this, but I'm here, and that's all that matters! I got your post notification on the walk to the library, but I can't read it because it refuses to load up here in the middle of East Bumfuck, so I think next time I plan to come here, I'm going to have to start binding our stories as books so that I have some form of entertainment between teaching archery courses and meal times. I swear, sitting around in between groups is like a new form of torture with this heat. It's been straight 80s-90s with heat indexes pushing it into the 100-105 range. I thought I was tan, to begin with, but now I look like the afterpicture of some cheese-filled recipe you find online - crispy and golden brown. I swear, I'm going to end up melting out here.

Anyway, enough about camp and the blistering heat!

I didn't realize it would be so damn hard to work on one story at a time when I have ideas for two completely different stories bouncing around in my head. Now that I'm away from home and have nothing other than notebooks to write my ideas in, I'm realizing just how screwed I am, as ideas for everything under the sun have been vying for my attention. I swear, it's like a volleyball game with my last shred of a brain cell as the ball. STDP is obviously one with 33 pages of the next "episode" done while I'm still in the beginning stages of the chapter, but Camp Wanamaker 2: Electric Boogaloo has been bouncing around in the background like a child hopped up on sugar. That's probably not going to be the official title, by the way, but that's what I've been referring to it as, so that's what I'm calling it until I decide what else to call it 🤣

I'm also constantly pestered with ideas for three other stories - True Colors (Through the Valley sequel), The Mark of the Archer (Percy Jackson AU), and Unsinkable (a super long one-shot, Titanic AU I've talked about before). As these all require a lot of research (the last of the three being part of the birthday surprise I was going to work on for you as it's very Carrie/Miles-centric), they'll require more time to be worked on when I get home at the end of the month, but where I've already started on STDP and parts of CW2, I don't think they'll make an appearance for a while, especially not the multi-chapter ones.

In the meantime, I'm definitely going to be working on STDP as it's my primary story right now, but I'm working on CW2 in little bursts on my phone when someone with a hotspot stops to chill with me - writing down ideas and quotes and working on one chapter that's been gnawing at the bars of its cage for a long time now lmao. Like I said, I have notebooks, but carpal tunnel sucks, and I have to take a lot of breaks from writing STDP. Now, while you wait for me to get home from camp and write out more, I have a gift! Alongside my chapter title ideas (and a few of my side notes for a few lmao) that I plan on incorporating into a few stories when the time comes, I'm also giving you a random snippet I enjoyed writing that will go into CW2 further down the line and two other snippets - one from STDP and the other from CW2. None of them have been edited yet, and I think I wrote some parts more in the present tense than I normally do, but that's just how I do it sometimes when I'm scribbling things out, so I guess you could consider this your warning so you won't be too thrown off by that. Also, I left them a bit vague for a reason, and I won't say which one belongs to which story, but I'd love to see if you can figure out what belongs where. Besides, I'm always up for a bit of light torture, so enjoy!

Here are a few of my chapter title ideas to give you a good idea of how some of these stories will progress...

And now, I hope you enjoy these little tidbits of chapters you'll hopefully see soon after I get home!

[bromcommie]

Hello & Happy Monday!

So...for the WIP tag game...I know I'm supposed to pick the one (1! ONE!) that I find most intriguing, but this is like a whole buffet of intrigue, so maybe I can have two? 👀 1) НОЧНОЙ РАЗГОВОР (FIGURE OUT) <- ngl, the 'figure out' cracked me up. Also, late night conversations? Yes, please!

2) what's a nice nutcase like you doing in a place like astoria 1203 <- this just sounds fun...and possibly like the title could be deliberately misleading

Thank you! <3

Hello helloo, happy Monday to you too! (but also Tuesday now I guess. It's a 2-for-1!)

Thank you for the ask, and thank you for indulging me with two (2! it's gonna be so long!) <3

НОЧНОЙ РАЗГОВОР (FIGURE OUT!!!) - Ooof, this fucking guy. I'm glad my stern instructions to myself in the title there were funny, because I do indeed need to FIGURE this one OUT and it's bugging me. It's essentially another chapter that's a part of a larger work (not naming names not pointing fingers but it's. The Work I'm Having Trouble Updating) and it was written a looong while back, which is why it's now a standalone file. I love the premise but I kinda want to tear it down and rebuild it entirely, mostly because I'm still deciding on whether I like the way I wrote the backstory for it. So. It's fun! It's challenging! It's giving me a migraine! The title's from this song about a tired traveler trying to find his way in the night. It's three conversations (Steve+Nat, Nat+Bucky and Bucky+Steve - although they barely talk at all) that happen in the night after a very not lucid, injured Don't-Call-Me-Bucky who's recently remembered the Red Room and also had a pretty rattling encounter with the code words seeks Natasha out in Europe for [redacted] something as a last resort, but instead accidentally walks straight into Steve who he's been staying away from like the Devil Himself since CATWS. And then basically bleeds all over him. (I am not immune to the wound care trope! However, this is unfortunately not that.) A lot of ugly feelings and defense mechanisms are brought up, some painful memories re: the war and the Red Room are brought up, and nobody's having a good time or really knows how to process jack shit. They all communicate/perceive love&protection in wildly different ways, and while all three dynamics end on some kind of natural conclusion it's still a lot of unfinished, unspoken business and just kind of sad. Hurt no comfort that's necessary for there to be the promise of comfort in the future, if you will. Tbh, I really want to finish/reincorporate this one. But it's just so *screams into paper bag*. Anyway. Snippet:

When Steve wakes up the next morning Bucky’s gone, like he knew he would be. Like a hurricane passing through, the foreknowledge doesn’t make the aftermath any easier. And then what? his own voice from so long ago echoes in his head as he waits for the water for Natasha’s tea to boil in the sunny little kitchenette of the motel’s lobby. 16 hours later, he’s watching the blinding stripe of the sun setting over the East River before the plane maneuvers onto the landing strip at JFK. The hell else? Then we march on, ace. We go home.

2. what's a nice nutcase like you doing in a place like astoria 1203 - oh good, thank god! So this one is a bit more fun, but it's only got a few disjointed half-scenes so far. The title is actually one of the most literal ones on the list - the fic does take place in Astoria, Queens, and it does involves a certain "nutcase". Several, even. They really don't get along, and then they almost do.

(Blame my recent rewatch of the Netflix shows for this one. Man. What a golden age that was.)

Excerpt under the cut:

It was easy to clock the combat training before, sure, but up close this guy’s… Keyed up. Wild-eyed, a little, and not in the twitchy way of the three idiots piled up outside by the ruined water hydrant, not just sheer adrenaline stoked by fear and booze and coke. More dialed-in, purposefully ruthless. Hungry. Getting up with an expression like an enraged bull in spite of the beating he just took. Nutcase, Barnes thinks bleakly. Not that he’s in any position to judge — glass houses, all that, but — “What’re you,” he croaks, “some kind of psycho?” “Says the guy who just mowed down six guys without blinking." The man spits, grimacing at the blood that lands on the stark white of the rooftop like it personally offends him. If he notices the similar spray across his busted face, his clothes, his military-short hair, he doesn't seem to give a damn. "Nice going, by the way— my man got away." "And my man's bleeding out on a fucking pool table downstairs," he grits out. He doesn't have time for this. This whole night has been one giant exercise in unpredictability, and the police sirens echoing off in the distance are problem enough without him having to duke it out over and over with some local homicidal moron who might or might not be HYDRA. "You wanna tell me what that's about?" The man levels an irritated look back at him and then shrugs, dismissive. "I don't play with my food." "Your food had intel I've been hunting for two weeks." "Tough shit. Maybe if you hadn't screwed up your goddamn trig—" His lip curls of its own volition, affronted despite himself. What an appropriate time for his ego to announce it's back from the dead and in the mix. How fun. “The hell I did. I don’t miss.” "Is that right? There's some real screwed up drywall down there that says otherwise." His voice picks up an edge of something dangerous, aiming for threatening and landing on feral as he takes a step closer, and Jesus, can he stay down already? "Unless you did it on purpose to let him know I'm coming because you work for the bastard, in which case lemme tell you, you and me have a whole different problem." "I don't work for anybody," he says, probably with more intensity than strictly necessary. "He was a civillian. I don't kill civillians." The words curl acerbic on his tongue. He doesn't. He doesn't. That, of all things, makes the man laugh, a bitter little thing that sounds like it clawed its way out of his throat, and only barely. Who the fuck is this guy. "Oh Jesus Christ, not this bullshit again— how many of you assholes are running around this place, huh?" he says, gesturing a little wildly at him. "You got a fancy catsuit under that hobo getup, too?" It's Barnes' turn to look at him like he's a few marbles short, which judging by all evidence he very well might be. The guy snorts at his confusion, shaking his head. "If you consider that criminal piece of dog shit a civilian, you’re way more out of your depth than I thought, kid.”

but also:

“Self-righteous, God's sacrificial lamb type-of-shit," he mumbles around the mouthful with distaste, staring off across the bridge. "Got himself a stupid fucking title and everything, if you can believe that. Major pain in my ass.” Barnes hums, considering, before taking a cautious bite of his own sandwich. The thick pile of fatty meat and melted cheese breaks apart in his mouth easy with a sudden, almost overwhelming explosion of flavours, his empty stomach singing praises despite the ache in his bruised jaw as he chews. He never thought he’d say this, but god bless Queens. “Catholic?” Castle grunts an affirmative. “Yeah, I have some experience with that.”

[rainswept]

why do you like chuuya /gen, like I dont mean to sound rude in anyway but why😭🙏

this is going under a read more because i started yapping and couldn’t stop. i’m sorry

his personality. hes so funny and hes such a bitch i love him. but also he’s an incredibly dynamic character. he’s well written and tbh that’s enough for me to like him already. he’s had so much shit thrown at him and very well could have become a horrible person but he’s not. others care about him and he cares about others. he hasn’t let himself become as bitter as he could have been. he is still so full of humanity despite it despite everything SEE NEXT PARAGRAPH

i’m a sucker for characters that are entirely completely human and yet don’t think they are, or struggle with whether they are or not (especially thinking so because of all the reasons that they are— but i suppose chuuya doesn’t really fit that part so i won’t get into that now.) like yes chuuya has (or had, i guess) a reason to believe he isn’t, but does that really matter when faced with the fact that you have emotions and blood just like everyone else? does your make matter when you’re not so different after all? it’s existential. it makes u think. 

his crime list is about as short as he is and i find that wonderful

his lore/past/backstory whatever you want to call it. not even, he’s still going through it. man 😭. he’s had so much loss but not a single goodbye and i think that’s a really fucking good (and depressing) concept. he has never had the chance to mourn properly. he acts like he did.

hes cunty

his dynamic w dazai i find very compelling too. like yes they bicker and yes they fight and yes they “hate” each other (they don’t) but they also trust each other with their lives and have left them in each other’s hands too many times to count. it shows u the depth of both their bond but also the characters individually. they’re not entirely self sufficient.. they can obviously take care of themselves but they’re at their best when working togegher. i thinkt hats cool. FREINDSHIP IS MAGIC!!1! no but it shows u that even the strongest people arent at their best until theyre able to connect. not that dazai and chuuya have a model relationship at all… but there’s trust there. and that’s enough

hes hot

he makes me so viscerally and upsettingly sad

dog motifs. ok hear me OUT i’m SORRY but tbh the title was what got me interested in bsd in the first place. everyone is a stray in this show and i like that very much. i love characters that are LOYAL to a FAULT. i love characters with gnashing teeth and wagging tails. i love characters that hold so tight onto things their hands hurt and they end up causing them to flee. that “everything i’ve ever loved has claw marks on it”??? yeah give me that shit i will eat it up EVERY TIME. i love characters that are blinded by their senses of duty, not in the way that they’d do anything whoever they’re loyal to asks of them (though that is a nice dynamic too, i don’t think that’s as Chuuya ™️ as the other i’m talking about), but in the way that they’d lay down their life without a second thought (or caring about how those people see them). a dog that is beat may bite but but but it will still have its duty. even if it hates it. (<- see also AKUTAGAWA akutagawa is the reigning champion of dog motifery that is probably why i love him so much. but that is akutagawa. and i’m talkign about chuuya so im gonna dhut up now) ) i like characters with Three Betrayals COUGH COUGH COU💥💥💥💥ogh mymgod scafamocuhe 3 betrayals chuuya flags sheep dazai Im HOWLIFJG someone KILL ME NEOW ok thay doesnt make aense i just thought it was funny. anywa

fanbs fanbs* FANGS idc if they’re fake

thanks for comign ti my ted talk 🙏 i may add more later. but i didn’t want to. talk. too much. um. i think that’s out the window though

[rjalker]

Free to use for whatever you want Flatlander basic anatomy design! It's public domain because I made it and I said so!

Web archive link for these two, plus my pencil drawings that I'll finish tomorrow. Also includes the one short story I wrote so far.

(Edit since I forgot to make it clear: You are 100% encouraged to download, share/repost these images, including the pencil drawings you can find at the link, as long as you link back to the web archive link so people can download the originals, include an image description for accessibility, and don't claim you made them!)

Please consider donating to the Web Archive if you've got any spare change!

You can buy the first design from my Threadless store :) I'll make more versions of it tomorrow.

Anyways I decided Flatlanders are monoecious like snails.

(Let me know if you would like this tagged as anything specific for filtering purposes! You can send anonymous asks to @neopronouns-in-action)

[ID: Three images. The first is a flat color digital drawing entitled, "Color-coded your convenience, An Adult Flatlander As Seen From the 3rd Dimension. [Warning: Do not poke internal organs!] Below the title is a drawing of an upward pointing triangle with color-coded internal organs each with a label of the corresponding color, connected with a line. In clockwise direction, they are: "Eyes: [Cannot see you unless you intersect Flatland in front of them]". The eyes are very small andinside a short opening at the tip of the triangle. "Brain" - A small pink blob along the right inside of the Flatlander, curving. "Proboscis / esophagus" - A light blue tube reaching from the eye and down to the: "Stomach" - a large green sack. "Nervous system" - Dark blue squiggly tubes branching across and around all the other organs in a random pattern. "Blood" - The purple-red color filling in the background behind all the organs rather than being in veins. "Birth canal" - An interlocking section in the outer wall of the Flatlander's skin, currently closed. Next to the birth canal is a tiny version of the larger triangle that is rotated 90 degrees, labeled "Newborns tend to be one-twelfth the size of their parent at birth". "Skin" - the dark grey outer layer that separates the Flatlander's insides from the outside world. It is intersperced with short black lines. "Womb" an orange sack in the bottom right corner of the Flatlander's insides. "Gonads: Sperm / Ova" - Two connected small sacs marked dark pink and gold on the triangle's flat side.

Below the Flatlander is black text that reads: "[Warning: Do not reveal a Flatlander's pregnancy status without permission!] Under The Current Regime, it is illegal for any Flatlander other than a Straight Line to carry a pregnancy, and illegal for a line to impregnate anyone. Attempting to congratulate a Flatlander on their pregnancy could get them killed! Discretion is the better part of valor! Keep their secrets to yourself!" Continuing along clockwise: "Unrealistic heart (the artist got lazy)." - a red heart-shape in the bottom left corner of the triangle. "Butt" - a short black line on the outer skin, connecting to the: "Kidney" - a dark red shape like a bean. "Lung" - a long, royal blue sack near the top of the triangle, next to the esophagus. "Cilia" - two thin, grey tendrils emerging from near all points of the triangle. The next image is a divider with black text below a black line, reading, "A Flatlander as seen from the 3rd dimension (true to color)" The last image is the same triangle Flatlander seen in the first diagram, now with the labels and text removed, with all of the internal organs in different shades of pink and purple. End ID.]