#at one point it was on my leg and i nearly passed out

[nashusglasses]

💪🏻&🥶 + zayne pls and thank u queen

Hi Sam ily!!!!!!! thank you for giving me a reason to revive wife guy Zayne who gets turned on when you mention the fact that you have a mortgage together LOL

send me an emoji + a lads man for a drabble! 🌞

For the seventh time tonight, Zayne declines the groom's offer of a sip of his whiskey neat. Never mind the shit taste; he promised himself he'd be completely sober the rest of the night, and the pineapple juice the bartender offered him was as satisfied as he was going to get.

He watches the bride take her nth shot. Then he sees you chasing her around the dance floor with a water bottle but failing miserably to get her to drink it down. Even worse is the DJ queueing up Bottoms Up by Trey Songz, and suddenly you're lost to the throng of drunk dancing and the bride violently shaking ass.

Zayne laughs quietly to himself, comparing the image of her now to three hours earlier: she was such a pearl, exchanging vows with tear-kissed eyes in front of the calm sea. He's glad to see her having the night of her life after witnessing—once again—the horrors of wedding planning. (His two responsibilities were keeping the rings safe and saying his best man speech. He guesses such important tasks warrant a congratulations shot from the bar, but whiskey neat? He inwardly cowers at the thought of the taste.)

You, however, aren't faring quite so well.

You catch him outside the reception hall a while later, sending his mom a text telling her his speech went well. "Zayne? Are you busy?"

The first thing he notices: the extra weight you're putting on your right leg, and Tara carefully balancing your arm around her shoulder.

He instantly puts his phone in his pocket. "Are you alright?"

You give him a sheepish smile, like you're afraid of a scolding. "I may or may not have twisted my ankle trying to have a dance-off with a baby."

"A baby," he repeats in disbelief.

"It was my niece," Tara snorts. "You think you got her? I need to call Andrea a ride, she's passed out at the sweetheart table."

Zayne briefly recalls a bridesmaid lain akimbo on the chairs. "Of course."

As soon as Tara's passed you over to Zayne's side, she's scurrying back into the hall with a quick feel better! He has to lean down as you hook your elbow onto his shoulder, suddenly very aware of your proximity and scent. Sea salt. Bergamot and jasmine. Something unattainable at the moment. "Do you think you can help me walk back to the bridal suite?" You ask. "I left my sandals there. I'm done with these heels."

You point to the small lakeside house just past the outdoor bar and the ceremony grounds. It's a one-minute walk at most, but Zayne doesn't want to risk your ankle swelling up into a balloon. He knows you'll refuse him, so he's quick with it.

"Wha—Zayne!"

He adjusts his hand under your knees, cradling the other under your shoulders. Your arms wrap around his neck with a nervous grip. He thinks he feels you shiver. "Are you cold?"

"Maybe." You don't make eye contact with him as he starts walking. "Oh my god this is so embarrassing."

"Now why would you say that?"

He's almost miffed that you're questioning his intentions. He hasn't had a chance to have a conversation with you that wasn't about being on schedule for wedding performances. (Weddings have a funny way of revealing all the mushy parts stuck inside you, and you of all people would know this. You nearly cried your foundation off during the father of the bride speech.) "Zayne," you say in warning, watching the bartenders you pass by snickering to themselves, probably thinking you're too drunk to walk.

He sighs. He's gonna need to bring out the big guns to get your guard down.

"I know," he concedes. "I just missed my wife so much."

You barely suppress your body vibrating with another shiver. "You piss me off so bad."

"And I have every reason to drop you. Here. Right now." The cement pathway to the suite is a very dangerous threat to your very vulnerable butt. "Say that again."

You huff, curling your hands into his neck in veiled threat. You don't say anything. The rest of your ten-second walk to the suite doors is cloaked in your silent defeat. You only talk once he's got you inside and seated on the lounge chairs, the place still messy with makeup palettes, matching bridesmaid pajamas you'd all left haphazard to get into procession. There's a random hair extension lying limp on the floor.

"This is gonna be a bitch to clean up later." You loll your head back, closing your eyes as Zayne props your bad ankle up onto a couch cushion he grabbed. "I take it back. You don't piss me off that bad anymore."

Zayne smiles, sits down in the lounge chair next to yours. He's also tempted to sink into the softness like you do. "We should think of our vow renewals soon," he says.

"We've been married for three months."

"I like to think of our prospects."

"We should probably pay off our mortgage first."

Zayne feels a zap rip down his spine. He'll be the last to admit it, but witnessing your life become intertwined at the barest bones of incoming mortgage payments and hydro bills has transformed him into something new. Something changed. A husband who takes care of his wife.

"You look very beautiful tonight." He watches you peek an eye open at him. The air conditioner of the suite whirrs to life. You smile tiredly.

"And you're very handsome," you answer back. "I kinda like being married to you."

"Good."

He leans over, kissing your lipstick off.

"I kind of like being married to you, too."

[scourgefrontiers]

last night there was a giant fucking flying roach in our apartment and it was the scariest thing ive ever experienced in my life. i have actual ptsd from childhood trauma and i dont remember ever being that scared

[clarii]

Off Limits

Summary: Before Eddie Munson even officially met Dustin’s sister, Dustin warned him to stay far away from her, knowing she was exactly Eddie’s type. But when fate pairs them together as chemistry partners, Eddie can’t help but fall for her — and she starts falling too. One night, when she finally confesses her feelings, Eddie rejects her, torn between his growing feelings and his loyalty to Dustin.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader, Dustin & Eddie friendship, Dustin & Reader sibling relationship

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, rejection, hurt/comfort, protective sibling, pining, happy ending

“Hey, listen—”

Dustin caught Eddie just as he was packing up after Hellfire one night, voice unusually serious.

Eddie raised a brow. “You okay, Henderson? You look like you’re about to give me some sort of intervention.”

Dustin sighed, crossing his arms. “Look, I just… need you to promise me something.”

Eddie smirked. “Sure. Anything. Except giving up metal, or D&D, or my throne as your fearless leader.”

Dustin glared. “I’m serious, dude.” He took a breath. “It’s about my sister.”

That made Eddie straighten slightly, his smirk faltering.

“Yeah?”

“She’s off-limits.”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

Dustin’s face hardened. “I know your type, Munson. She is your type. And I don’t want you messing with her. Like… ever. Got it?”

Eddie scoffed, holding his hands up defensively. “Dude, I haven’t even met her. Chill. I’m not gonna—”

“I mean it.”

There was a rare protective edge to Dustin’s voice that made Eddie nod slowly, the teasing smile dropping.

“Yeah… okay, man. I get it. No funny business. Scouts honor.”

And he meant it.

But then came chemistry class.

It was almost comical how quickly the universe turned on him.

When Mrs. O’Donnell paired him with you for the semester-long chemistry project, Eddie had nearly choked on his gum when you introduced yourself with that soft, shy smile.

“Oh. You’re Henderson’s sister?”

You laughed. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

And then he was screwed.

You were gorgeous — but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was how easy it was to talk to you. How you rolled your eyes at his bad jokes but laughed anyway. How you didn’t flinch when he rambled about D&D while sketching dragons on his notebook instead of paying attention.

And the flirting? Yeah. That just… happened.

Small touches when passing beakers. Sitting a little too close during study sessions. Him calling you sweetheart and you calling him out for it, but never actually minding.

It was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

————-

The tipping point was a quiet Wednesday night.

Eddie was sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor, guitar pick between his teeth as he scribbled down notes for the chemistry report.

You, meanwhile, weren’t even pretending to focus.

You were too busy watching him — the way his curls fell over his face, the way he bit his lip when he concentrated.

It had been building for weeks.

The crush. The stolen glances. The feeling that maybe… just maybe… he felt it too.

And you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Eddie?”

He looked up, oblivious as ever, still chewing on his pick. “Yeah?”

You exhaled.

“I… I like you. Like, really like you. And I was wondering if… you’d ever consider, maybe, I don’t know… dating me?”

Silence.

Eddie froze, the pick dropping from his lips.

For a moment, he just stared, like he hadn’t heard you right.

Then —

“Wait, what?”

You flushed. “You heard me, Munson. Do you… feel the same? Or… did I totally misread this?”

His mouth opened. Then shut.

Because, God, he did feel the same. He felt everything.

But he also heard Dustin’s voice in his head, loud and clear.

“She’s off-limits.”

Eddie’s heart shattered.

He forced a strained laugh, running a hand through his curls.

“Y/N… you’re great. You really are. But… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your face fell.

“Oh.”

The smile dropped from your lips, embarrassment crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You had been so sure.

“I… I thought—”

Eddie cut you off, voice almost desperate.

“No, it’s not you. I swear. You’re amazing. I just—”

You nodded stiffly, swallowing hard.

“It’s fine. We can just… finish the project another day. I’m not feeling well.”

“Wait, sweetheart—”

But you were already closing the door behind him.

And he felt like the biggest idiot on the planet.

—————

The next day was brutal.

You didn’t speak to him. Didn’t even look at him in chemistry class.

No stolen glances. No quiet jokes.

Just silence.

And it killed him.

—————-

At lunch, Dustin was the first to say something.

“You good, man? You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

Eddie blinked up from where he’d been pushing his food around his tray.

“Yeah… I’m fine.”

Dustin snorted. “You’re so not fine.”

A pause. Then Dustin frowned, glancing between Eddie and where you sat, equally miserable, across the cafeteria.

“Okay, what happened? You and my sister look like someone just kicked your puppies.”

Eddie hesitated.

Then he sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

“I messed up, man. She… she told me she liked me. And I said no.”

Dustin blinked. “Wait, what? But… you like her too. It’s so obvious—”

Eddie groaned. “I know! But you told me she was off-limits, dude! You literally made me promise!”

Dustin paled.

“Oh. Oh, crap.”

“Yeah. Crap.” Eddie stared at the table, voice quieter. “She’s the only girl I’ve ever felt like this about. And I just crushed her because I didn’t wanna lose you as a friend.”

Silence.

Dustin opened his mouth. Then closed it.

Then—

“Dude. I was being an idiot. I thought you’d mess around and break her heart or something, but… you care about her. And she clearly cares about you too.”

Eddie blinked. “You’re not mad?”

Dustin shook his head. “I’m mad you didn’t talk to me sooner. Go fix it, Munson.”

——-

That night, Eddie showed up on your doorstep.

You opened it, blinking in surprise.

“Eddie? What are you—”

He cut you off, words tumbling out.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t say no because I don’t care. I said no because I do care. And because I was scared. Your brother told me to stay away before we even met, and I didn’t wanna lose him as a friend. But pushing you away hurt worse. I like you, Y/N. So much.”

You stared, heart pounding.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

Eddie winced. “I’m an idiot?”

You gave a watery laugh.

And when he hesitantly reached for your hand — fingers brushing, warm and gentle — you didn’t pull away.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I deserve that.”

“But… I like you too.”

His whole face lit up.

And when he kissed you, slow and soft, everything finally felt right.

The End.

[fayesia]

Footsies

dbsf!Joel x reader

Warnings: perv!Joel | voyeurism | masturbating with panties | Joel watched you mastrubate and gets off on it | footplay under the table | making out | dirty talk | pussy eating | handjob | daddy kink | pet names | mentions of Joel being old | refers to his schlong as 'him' | creampie

a/n: buckle up yall, this was a long one. I honestly posted the poll for fun because I wanted to write all 3 stories anyways to show my thanks for all the support I've been getting on my blog. So fret not if the one you chose didn't win because it will be posted anyways. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did writing it, much love Faye xoxo♡

wc: 4.3k

UNEDITED

It only happened once.

You'd forgotten to do it for the first time.

Usually aware about the fifty-something year old man's bedroom window across from yours. Yet in your restless need tonight the thought slipped away like the blankets on your silk sheets.

Your beige curtains, pushed aside to cover one-third of the window, enough to allow the evenings golden glow to pass through and illuminate the room.

Now in the late hours of the night it was your bedside lamp leaving a yellow hazy glow across the expanse of your skin.

Your clothes quick to follow your blanket, just a scrap of white lace material left on you.

*

Joel's limbs stumbled upstairs, his eyes heavy from the exhaustion of today's work, motivated by the thought of falling into bed and sleeping through the weekends morning. He entered his room going directly towards his drawers to place his cash and watch.

Too late to realise he didn't even switch the lights on, your rooms lamp was enough to pass through his window.

Upon this realisation he looked up.

A sharp inhale and then stillness, like one more breath or movement would give his position away. Almost like he'd get caught enjoying what he was seeing. An old man in his fifties watching a young twenty year olds hands roaming all over herself.

God he was disgusting and he loved it.

"Fuck", his hand palmed the front of his jeans, a bulge already forming.

The first contact of your fingers with your centre had your back arching, mouth ajar to let out a whimper.

Joel turned away, "fuck am I doing...", his hand gripping his own blinds to shut them but it was almost like some external force was stopping him. The internal battle being his dick and brain arguing between lust and reason.

His eyes danced across your body, the way your hands caressed your tits, rubbing them together and pinched your nipples. Joel imagined how soft they'd feel in his hand, the way you'd whimper when his grey stubble scratched against your sensitive nipples as his face was buried between the supple fat of your breasts.

At this point there was no going back, Joel's hand was already wrapped around himself, the precum that stained his jeans dripped down the length aiding as a lubricant.

Your hands rubbed yourself through the thin lace cloth, the material scratched against your clit perfectly, and you could already feel how damp it had gotten. The slick liquid seeping out of your hole and into the fabric. Lifting your hips, you hooked your fingers into the panties and slid them down your legs.

Joel nearly let out a growl as strands of your wetness created a bridge between your panties and wet folds. His tip spurted out more precum and if he didn't know better he'd have thought he already came. The white liquid made a bigger mess as his hand worked along his length, his closed fist pushing it closer to his crotch where it dripped to his balls and soaked into the denim.

It was almost painful, the way you teased him so coyly.

Gripping onto the side of the dresser, his nails dug crescents into the old wood. Joel couldn't look away, like a moth to a flame, his eyes followed the course of your hand. Watching you throw your panties to the pile of clothes and then return to your centre where your fingers swirled through the wet mess.

He could just imagine how warm you'd feel, the slick would stick to his fingers and he'd drag them to his mouth to taste your sweet nectar before feeding it to you for a taste of yourself.

You dragged your first two fingers downwards, not entering but just teasing yourself to want more. God, Joel knew five minutes with him and you'd break.

Your mouth opened wider as your fingers entered your pussy, Joel's expression matching as he sped up the movements of his hand.

He watched as one hand worked to drag you to climax while the other squeezed your tits. He could just picture himself stuffing you full of his fingers, you struggling to take the large size of them, while he bit at your nipples drawing out the sweetest noises.

He knew it was wrong yet the taboo nature of it seemed to spur him on more.

Reaching your peak, your fingers slid faster in and out of yourself, the sheer need for release had your palm slapping perfectly against your clit and your head turning from side to side.

Stuffing your face into the pillows to muffle your screams you arched your back off the bed, with stuttering movements of your fingers trying to lengthen the sensation of your climax.

Joel watched as your chest heaved up and down, his eyes briefly shutting to picture how sweet your face would look while on your knees stroking his cock. Your mouth struggling to fit all of him as he shoved himself down ur throat, tears rolling down your face as his release shot out.

Looking down he saw his cum rolling down his hand "shit...fuck ya doing to me", shaking his head he looked out the widnow to see you already under the sheets, lamp off with only the moonlight outlining your silhouette.

You woke up the next morning after the mind blowing orgasm you waited all week for. Sliding out of bed to go get breakfast after slipping into your robe, you expected your dad to be working in the backyard like most Saturday mornings.

*

Heading downstairs you turned a corner to the kitchen where you bumped into a hard wall. Except there was no hard wall, just the chest of your old neighbour with that deep Texan voice that had your knees weak. Staring up at him you were lost for words, too confused at what he was doing in your house after you just woke up wearing nothing but a robe that's knot was getting looser by the second.

Joel's strong hands grabbed your shoulders to keep you steady, his eyes widening at the cleavage peaking through before his eyes met yours and that soft smile returned.

"Careful sweetheart, wouldn't want ya getting hurt now."

Nodding your head slowly you mumbled a small sorry, trying to avoid eye contact so he wouldn't see the deep flush across your cheeks.

He let out a cough moving out of the way to let you through.

"Sorry bout that, I'll let you on your way now-wait wouldn't happen to mind pointing me to the bathroom"

"What..oh yeah of course just up the stairs, second door to the right."

"Thanks"

Brushing past you up the stairs, Joel's hand pressed against the small of your back, a little lower then one would deem appropriate but you barely noticed.

Heading to the fridge your dad walked past with a bottle of water.

"Hey hun, got Joel over to work on the pool, want to get that working for the summer neighbourhood barbecues."

"Sounds great dad, be careful with your back"

"Oh come on now, should be saying that to Joel, he's got a few years on me"

"Whatchu saying about me, old man?" Joel's voice rang out as he jokingly punched your dad on the shoulder. Laughing together, the two of them walked out to the backyard.

Maybe if your back wasn't turned to the two you would've seen the familiar white cloth peeking from Joel's back pocket.

Joel reached the top of the stairs, now was it a right or left, maybe he knew deep down which way was right but he was just oh so curious. Opening the door he caught sight of a new perspective of what your room looked like, this time not through your window which he could see beside the bed. Walking forward his shoe stood over something, looking down he saw your shirt and on top of them was your panties.

The way your voice would whine out when he keeps using his tongue to fuck you. This was his breaking point. He used your underwear to wrap around his cock, his liquids mixing with yours as he spurted into the lace. Hoping for no mess, but he was sure he'd have missed a few drops, a surprise for you to find.

The very same white lace underwear you wore yesterday. Crouching down Joel picked them up, his fingers still feeling the dampness from your need. Groaning he bought them to his face, nose stuffed deep in the cloth that covers your pussy, as he inhaled as much as he could. The scent of you like a drug he couldn't get enough of. Immediately he felt the blood rush to his cock, the bulge through his jeans prominent.Unbuckling his belt he unzipped them to pull his dick out, pressing the panties harder until he said fuck it and stuck his tongue out. The first taste of you was a high he would never reach again. At this point he had the panties crotch stuffed in his mouth, jerking himself up and down nearly cumming. He imagined tasting your pussy, wrapping his mouth around your clit and running his tongue through your wet folds. Your thighs squeezing around his head as you let this old man eat your young sweet cunt.

Joel knew it was wrong but he fucking loves it, your oblivious self wouldn't ever know.

*

His gaze locked onto yours and for a second you thought you had spoken your thoughts aloud, the way his mouth turned up into a smirk, almost like he read your mind and was teasing you.

Your dad and Joel spent majority of the day working on the pool. By lunchtime you had already made sandwiches and cold drinks, unbeknownst to Joel's eyes roaming your body. Scanning the way your thighs looked in those tiny cotton shorts and how your nipples poked out of the thin singlet you had on to fight the hot summer air. He was glued to how your ass poked out when you bent over to put the plates down.

By 5pm they came back inside, from the couch in the living room you watched Joel's broad frame covered in sweat soaking his grey shirt, he drank water like he was dying of thirst. He took large gulps as droplets escaped from the corners of his mouth, dripping over the veins on his neck, god you wished you could lick them.

Your dads voice broke you away from your thoughts.

"Ah come on Joel, sure you can stay for dinner, not like you got anyone waiting for you at home and you know Annie cooks up a storm in the kitchen."

Chuckling Joel shook his head, knowing there was no point starting this conversation with your dad, he was persistent when it came to taking care of Joel, he was lonely at home as much as he'd never admit it.

Turning around to place his glass in the sink, you noticed something white hanging out of Joel's pocket, the fabric was familiar but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

Placing the final dish down you took a seat across from Joel. It had taken a while but by the time you finished setting the table you realised exactly why that fabric was recognisable. The lace pattern was the exact same as the panties you wore last night.

Seems like someone had done a little bit of snooping and you knew just how to get back at him.

The conversation flowed swiftly, your mother raving to your dad and Joel about her day at work, while he updated her on the progress of the backyard. Poking at the vegetables on your plate you decided now would be a good time to act.

Raising your leg your foot creeped it's way up Joel's denim clad leg. Releasing a grunt in surprise he tried to cover it up with a few coughs, your mother tapping your arm to go get him and your dad a beer from the fridge. Holding the back of Joel's chair you leaned forward to place the glass bottle next to his plate, rubbing yourself just a bit to close into his side, prompting a heavy release of air from him.

Settling back in your seat you plastered a small smile onto your face, your plan was just beginning.

"You alright there Joel?"

Your foot returned back to its previous position, currently rested on Joel's thigh while the conversation continued. Your mum changed her direction of questions to Joel, asking about his work and what he did on his offdays. As soon as his mouth opened to answer you straightened out for leg resting your foot on his crotch, he stuttered an answer out, your dad giving him a questioning look.

"Mhm sorry think the beer went down the wrong pipe haha"

It's not like he could tell his best friend their daughters foot was rubbing on the growing bulge in his jeans.

After 30 more second of your relentless moving his hand reached under the table to grip your ankle, his face taking shape of a disapproving look, brows furrowed and mouth downturned into a frown.

Then your fork fell, your mother shaking her head making a joking comment about your clumsiness.

Crawling down under the table you acted to search around for your fork, making your way to Joel's legs where your hands rubbed up his thighs, he could feel the tine weight of your fingertips getting dangerously close to his cock hardening in his pants. Getting back to your chair you smiled turning to your mother.

"Found it"

Shaking her head at you, Joel and your dad walked over to the living room, a little stagger in Joel's steps, while you began cleaning the table.

Your dad returned soon,

"Don't worry hun, I'll help your mum out, you go keep Joel company before he leaves."

With a nod you made your way over to the next room.

"So what was that all about sweetheart?"

"I don't know what you mean."

You tilted your head to the side, acting confused.

"Oh come on you were practically giving me a foot job in front of your parents."

He scoffs out.

"Oh come on don't act like my panties aren't shoved into your back pocket right now." You mocked him, crossing your arms across your chest only accentuating the cleavage of your breast in your shirt.

His mouth opened to respond but he had to stop himself, shocked that you had found out or rather how you found out. Patting his back pocket he realised the small flap of cloth hanging out.

Well fuck...too late now.

*

You had already walked closer to him in his daze, your feet only inches apart as you stared up, scanning for any sign of doubt.

Yet when he saw the proximity between you both, it was a ravaging look in his eyes.

With one hand tangled in your hair his other pressed your back pushing you forward into him as his mouth met yours.

You said your goodbye too, a small wave, unexpectedly Joel pulled you in for a hug, the kind your parents thought was just friendly. But they didn't hear the words he whispered into your ear.

You could taste the beer he just had and a mild after-taste of a cigarette he must've smoked before dinner. It felt like you were drowning in the warmth of both, melting into his strong arms that held you up. Moaning into his mouth he took his chance to slip his tongue past your lips, the two of you wrestling for dominance but a sharp tug in your hair had you submitting.

A passing pair of footsteps had you pushing Joel away leaving a metre distance between the two of you. Your dad passed by and you hoped to god he wouldn't see the pieces of your hair out of place or your swollen lips that still lingered with the taste of Joel. Leading him to the door your parents said their goodbyes, requesting that Joel come by more often for dinner once you left for college.

Leave your window unlocked, wanna swing by tonight yea?

Locking the door, your parents bid you goodnight heading upstairs, catching sight of the two wine glasses and bottle of red that your mum held you knew they would be unconscious within a hour.

A tingly feeling filled your body and you felt a warm pool of heat in your stomach as you skipped down the hall from the kitchen to your room. The downstairs bedroom window would be more than easy for Joel's aged body to get into and you unlocked it before heading to your closet to change, giggling to yourself at the insanity of the situation.

Taking out a matching set of cream pyjamas you decided to leave on the pink lace panties that matched the white ones Joel stole.

By the time you had finished getting ready for bed, switched the lights off, lit a nice vanilla candle and gotten under the sheets, Joel slid the window open. He slid it closed behind him taking his jacket off before walking towards your bed.

"Watchu laughing at girl"

"Nothing"

Hiding behind your hand you stifled a laugh at how this 57 year old man looked like a teenager sneaking into his girlfriends room on a Friday night.

"Hm that's what I thought, now come here"

Joel's arms wrapped around you, resuming where your last make out session left off. This time you unabashedly returned the kiss, moaning into his mouth while trying to be quiet at the same time. Pulling away you leaned forward to try reconnect but Joel stopped you.

"You sure you won't regret this honey, you're still young you know. Don't owe anything to an old man like me"

"Want you Joel please..please want you so bad"

"Okay okay baby don't worry I'm right here"

Moving quickly Joel unbuttoned you top and removed your shorts.

"Fuckkk wore these for me did you babygirl"

Nodding you shifted your hips showing off the bows that adorned the sides. He smiled tracing them with his fingers before feeling the soft skin of your thighs. Your whined pawing at his shirt, lifting the material to see underneath.

"Alright I got it..don't want to rush this baby"

Chucking his shirt onto your bedroom floor he unbuckled his belt and removed his jeans too, leaving both of you in your underwear. Crawling into his lap you kisses him again, this time he dragged his lips down your neck, drawing out more noises from you. His lips kissed down to your breasts where he lavishly licked at each nipple, soaking both in his spit and watching them harden from the cold air of your room.

"You want it nice and slow hun"

Shaking your head Joel's head tipped back releasing a groan.

"Your killing me over here baby"

Pushing you back against your pillows Joel crawled til his face met your covered centre. He could feel the heat omitting off that area and couldn't wait to dive in.

"What do you need sweetie, tell your daddy nice and clearly"

Whining from both the embarrassment and and your neediness you replied,

"Please Joel, just want you-please daddy want you to touch my pussy"

Growling into your cunt Joel ripped you pink lace thong off you throwing it somewhere as he dove mouth first onto you.

You could only describe it at electrifying, his tongue worked like magic on you, exploring the folds and dragging your wetness up to you clit where his mouth collected all the liquid and drank it like his life depended on you. He couldn't get enough of the taste, it was so sweet, so you.

You yanked at your Joel's greying hair, eyes shut tight in euphoria as he held onto your thighs to stop your legs from shaking.

"Fuck..gonna come fuck daddy"

"Yeah show me how you come baby, come all over my tongue."

Your words spurred him on, his tongue pushing through your entrance, it was a point of depravity he couldn't turn back from. Wanting his best friends daughter to come on his tongue as he fucked you with it. A finally suck of your clit had you shaking, reaching that climax you desperately held onto, Joel continuing to lick you in the hopes of making it last longer.

"Oh god daddy..pleasplease fuck no more"

Lifting his head Joel licked his lips but he knew when he kissed you that you would taste yourself, more accurately you'd feel the mess you left on his grey speckled stubble. You tugged down Joel's boxers, slipping them off you watched his thick, heavy length spring up against his soft abs. Your eyes widened not expecting that. It was long, and thick, the tip was angry and red with veins adorning most of the length. His balls looked full and heavy and he had a thatch of pubic hair trailing up to his happy trail.

"Well don't just sit there staring at him baby, daddy doesn't have all night."

Absentmindedly nodding your hand reached out to barely fully wrap around it. He hissed at the tight grip you had on him.

"Up and down sweetie"

The longer you did just that, the more white precum dribbled from his tip and coated your fingers. Joel thought the sight was sinful, fuck the whole situation was taboo. An old man with a sweet girl like you. It was a a porn cliché as old as time. He couldn't take it anymore.

Manhandling you, he spread your legs and pushed your knees to meet your shoulders, the position exposed everything but you'd never felt more comfortable with someone like you did with Joel. He slapped your wet puffy cunt with his thick cock, the sounds of skin against skin echoed in your room and had you getting wetter.

"Bit of a tight fit, but you're gonna take all of daddy aren't you"

Nodding you agreed.

"Please, please want all of it wanna be full of you."

"Fuck here we go baby"

The tip went in first, it stretched you out already, Joel watched your tiny tight pussy struggle to take him, around the half way point you were already fucked out.

"No more daddy, too full please"

"Just a bit more baby come on make daddy happy"

"Mmmh fuck"

Joel pushed the final half in groaning at the sensation of your wet pussy lips meeting the base of his cock. You were definitely tight, so warm like a pillow moulded around his dick.

"All in. Can daddy move sweetheart"

"Pleaseplease don't stop"

Chuckling at your change in mood, Joel held onto your thighs and started moving in and out. His pace picked up speed quickly and before you knew it the sound of his cock entering you was like a ringing alarm. Relentless and loud. His thighs slapped against the back of yours and he was shoving you deeper in the mass of pillows with half of them already having fallen off. Your eyes squeezed shit and your pussy tightened around him.

"Oh yea baby do that again, fucking taking your daddy so good aren't you. Meant to take this big daddy dick."

"Fucking filthy. My fucking filthy slut, whoring yourself out to me. I could be your fucking father. Heck I could be your grandpa. You don't care though, baby just needs something to fill up her wet cunt."

Joel accentuated each sentence with a thrust reaching that special soft spot in you. It didn't take very long for you to reach your peak.

"Please daddy wanna come, please let me come"

"Yeah baby come on my dick, wanna feel that fucking pussy tighter around me"

Nodding your head Joel's hand grabbed your jaw, squishing your face and forcing your eyes to open.

"Nuh uh, baby you aren't coming if your eyes are closed, wanna see your eyes on me the whole time."

"Ngh okay daddy-fuck I'm coming daddydaddydaddyy"

You said it like in a trance, tongue hanging out of your mouth with a string of drool hanging off it, a single tear rolling down your cheek from the stimulation that Joel kissed away. One of his hands held onto your boob, twisting and rubbing your nipple while squishing the soft flesh. His other hand pushed your right leg further back, almost folding you in half as his held tilted back to growl nearly animalisitically at the ceiling. With a final groan, almost moan, Joel thrust deep in you one last time.

"Gonna cum baby, daddy's gonna fill you up, stuff you full of his cum til it's overflowing and dripping out."

Bracing your hands on Joel's solid chest you mewled out feeling his cum shoot inside your pussy, a load being pumped into you an when you thought it was over there was more.

Finally Joel finished, wrapping his arms around you to lay your head on his chest. Kissing the top of your head he cradled your limp exhausted body.

With a teasing smile you looked up at him.

"Not too bad for an old man"

"Baby we both know I'd still fuck you just as good in my sixties"

"We'll just have to wait and see then huh daddy?"

"You fucking kill me sweetie"

Chuckling against your forehead he placed one last kiss against it, basking in the last moments he had with you before he'd have to crawl out your window in the early hours of the morning.

[moonstruckme]

Heyyy! So I'm obsessed with your writing! Your EMT series might be my favourite thing I've ever read.

I was wondering if I could request an EMT Marauders x reader story where she gets really sick but thinks it's nothing and downplays it to them, only for it to end up being Pneumonia or something. And maybe they feel guilty for not realising it sooner?

I know you've probably already written something similar to this so no worries if you don't feel like writing it but I'd love to see your take it if you decide. Hurt/comfort is my favourite trope in the world. I just can't get enough of it!

I hope you're doing well!

Thanks gorgeous, hope you're doing well too <3

cw: pneumonia

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You make sure there’s plenty of honey in your tea when the boys get home. 

“Hi,” you greet them, pleased when your voice comes out semi-normal. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” Sirius flops onto the sofa, nearly on top of your curled-up legs. “How was your day?” 

You try to keep your answer brief, your cough plied into submission with honey and warm tea but not for long. “Good. Got some things done.” 

You don’t mention that after every one of those things you’d had to have a thirty-minute lie down, or that many of them involved disinfecting surfaces you’d accidentally coughed near. 

“Being sick isn’t an opportunity to get things done.” Remus sinks into his chair, leveling you with a reprimanding look. “You’re supposed to be resting.” 

You shrug. “The only reason I haven’t been at work is because—” A couple of coughs fight their way out of you. James’ expression pinches as he sits on the arm of Remus’ chair, but thankfully the fit passes quickly. You take another sip of your tea. “Because I don’t want to pass it to anyone. I think I have to go back tomorrow, though.” 

Sirius makes a soft tsking sound. The boys are all still in uniform, his tattoos peeking out from the short sleeves as he traces looping circles on the side of your knee. “But you’re not better yet.” 

“Yeah, but I’m running out of sick days.” 

James frowns. “How long has it been?” 

You bring your tea to your lips, avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’ve been out for a week.” 

“But you were sick for a while before that,” he says. “What is that, ten days? Eleven?”

You shrug. 

Sirius is looking up at you with a puckered brow. “Do you feel like you’re getting better?” 

“I think so,” you say optimistically. It’s quickly undermined, however, when you’re caught up in another coughing fit. You have to set your tea down to keep from spilling it, holding a tissue over your mouth. 

James’ eyes widen, and Sirius sits up to rub your back. 

“That doesn’t sound very good,” James says. 

“No,” Sirius agrees. He reaches to feel your face, but you brush him away. 

“Don’t-—ack—don’t get too close. I don’t want to get you sick.” 

“I’m not gonna get sick, you baby.” He pushes past your hands. “Let me do my job.” 

“You just got off work.” 

“Yeah, well,” his voice softens, taking on a sympathetic hum as he lays his palm flat to your hairline, “maybe I maybe I was talking about my boyfriend job.” A pause. “I think your fever’s gotten worse, my love.” 

You whine. “Really?” 

“‘Fraid so. Have you noticed your symptoms getting worse at all?”

“I don’t” —you cough and reach for your tea again— “think so.” 

“Dove,” Remus says warningly. 

“It’s hard to tell,” you admit. “It’s moved around.” 

“Like where, honey?” James asks. 

“Like, in my…” You feel your throat contract, another fit brewing. You touch a hand to your sternum to avoid speaking. 

“In your chest?” Remus infers. 

You nod. 

He hums and moves to sit on the coffee table, his knees touching yours. You try to warn him away, but Remus shushes you gently. “Let me look at you.” 

He brings one hand to your face, feeling the way Sirius had, and touches the other to the pulse point on your neck. His touch is gentle and cool against your warm skin. You don’t know what exactly he’s looking for, but you find yourself fighting the urge to fall asleep in the basin of his palm when it slips down to hold your cheek. 

“You don’t need to talk,” says James, “but just nod yes or no, okay? Have you noticed yourself feeling more tired lately?” 

You nod tentatively. 

“Yeah? Less appetite?” 

You frown. “I don’t think—” You’re cut off by your own hacking. 

“One week off work, and she completely forgets how to follow instructions,” Sirius teases, rubbing your leg. 

“Terrible patient,” James agrees. 

“Alright,” Remus says once your fit ebbs. “I don’t have a stethoscope, but can you turn sideways for me?” 

You do, confused. Remus puts his ear to your back. You must make an odd face, because Sirius grins at you, reaching over to pinch your chin affectionately. 

“Take a deep breath,” Remus instructs. 

You try, but it doesn’t get far. Your lungs expand maybe halfway before you’re coughing again, horrible, wracking coughs punctuated by stabbing pains in your chest. Remus sits up after a few moments, rubbing your back. 

“Sorry,” you manage. 

“Why are you sorry?” Sirius pulls you into him, cradling your head to his chest. “That sounded like it hurt, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Remus answers for you, brows bent with sympathy. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. At least now we can get you some medicine, though.” 

You cough weakly. “You can?” 

“Sounds like pneumonia?” James asks Remus. Your boyfriend nods. 

Sirius coos, petting your head. “I’m sorry, baby. I was thinking it was just a cold.” 

“It’s not your fault,” you croak. “I was, too.” 

“Feels like we ought to have known the difference, though,” James admits. When Sirius gets up, he’s quick to take his spot, tucking you underneath an arm. 

“Where are you going?” you ask Sirius. 

He’s putting his shoes back on. “To get someone to write you a prescription. The sooner we get you on antibiotics, the better. It’ll give you something to show your boss, too.” 

“I don’t need to come with you?” you ask hopefully. 

He winks, grabbing his keys. “Perks of knowing people at the hospital.” 

“Perks of flirting with the doctors, he means,” Remus mutters after he’s gone. 

“Hey,” James laughs, giving his boyfriend’s knee a playful squeeze, “it works out for us, doesn’t it?” 

“Sometimes,” Remus allows. He fixes his gaze on you. “Anything we can do to help you feel better, sweetheart? Do you want to try a hot bath? Steam would be good for you.” 

You look down into your now cool mug. “Could I have some more tea?” 

He takes it from you with a kiss to your head. “What a silly question.”

[motorsportbarbie13]

Hiiiii couldn’t help but see you do requests, could you do something where after a hard race reader placed on the podium but felt sick and Max catches her when she collapsed after getting out of the car? Maybe with the words "I can't... my legs... everything's tingling..." and him being super worried. Basically a little angsty with a fluffy end where he’s checking on her, can be established relationship or not.

OH ANON. this was so fun.

Enjoy!

Heatstroke In which, as it turns out, Max wasn't just 'Maxplaining' the difficulty of Singapore to you after all

Pairing: Max Verstappen X FerarriDriver!Reader Warnings: fainting, getting sick/weak, max being a knight in shining armor. Word count: 2.2k Masterlist

Max tried to warn you. Lando tried to warn you. Checo and Lewis had tried to warn you. Hell, the entire fucking grid had tried to warn you that Singapore was a different beast. You had thought they were just coddling you and being over dramatic, as the boys tended to be with you. It was a hazard of being the only woman on the grid, which frankly, drove you bat shit crazy because you had earned your way into the red Ferrari seat next to Charles on your own, thank you very much. You didn’t need to be coddled and you didn’t need to be warned off anything. 

But they were right. 

Singapore was a different beast. 

The heat during the day was oppressive but at night? There wasn’t any relief once the intense sun went down either. You were from Michigan though, that midwestern state being famous for its hot and sticky summers so you had thought you’d been prepared.

As you claimed into your sleek red car, lining up P3 behind Max and Lando though you knew you were in trouble before the green flag waved. The thing about sweating in the humidity like this is that there’s no where for the moisture on your skin to go, the air already too heavy so that slick sweat sticks to you, making you even hotter than before. 

“Fuck, this is going to be brutal.” You mumble, hoping that the braid you tied your hair in would stay for the entirety of the race. Suddenly, shaving your hair into a pixie cut like Fred had been suggesting (mostly jokingly) for weeks seemed like a good idea.  

The formation lap is fine. 

The first ten laps are fine, if not a little squirrely thanks to your car being wildly loose. 

The first fifteen laps are fine, if not a bit hot. 

But on lap 23? All hell breaks loose. 

First, your hydration system fails and you’re completely unable to get any water through the tiny straw that you usually flip into your mouth on the straightaway, just like Danny taught you. You’re sweating up a storm with no way to replenish those valuable electrolytes. 

Then, you’re so busy focusing on the fact that you’d give your first born child for a sip of water you nearly slam into the same exact wall that took George out on the last lap of last year’s race. You yank the steering wheel around so hard, you feel something in your wrist pop. The searing pain causes you to over correct and you nearly drive right into your own fucking teammate. 

“Fuck. Tell Charlie I’m sorry.” You groan over the radio, telling your engineer to pass on the message to Charles. 

“Focus on your race.” Your engineer tells you, voice obviously strained just as yours is. “Charles is fine.” 

Well, I sure as fuck am not fine. You think as you fight the car down towards the starting line. 

On lap 45, you’re granted a reprieve when a Sauber goes into the wall, bringing out a yellow flag. The leaders all duck into the pits, including yourself. There’s nothing anyone can do about your water situation and at this point, your instincts have kicked it. 

Max was right and you knew it. Singapore was hell. He had tried to tell you last night, as you had been snuggled up in bed with him, a ritual that you both had become dependent on this season. It seemed cliche, you falling for one of your rivals. You hated it but there was no denying that there was a magnetic chemistry between the two of you that had started the moment you had met last year while you were still driving in F2. 

You had resisted his charm for a while but things had taken a turn the night it was announced you’d be driving for Ferrari alongside Charles. Several of the drivers that lived in Monaco full time insisted on taking you to Jimmy Z’s to celebrate and who were you to say no to a bunch of handsome men paying for your drinks? 

The night ended just as you might expect it: Max drunkenly confessing his year-long crush on you and you drunkenly kissing him in a dark alleyway as you waited for your Uber. What had started off as a drunken confession and your reckless response that wasn’t supposed to mean anything had turned into one of the greatest things that has ever happened to you. Max and you? The pair of you were endgame. 

But none of that mattered now. Not here, in the raging heat and humidity of Singapore. You knew that Max was going to give you shit for not being better prepared the moment you got out of the car. You knew you were in for an ‘I told you so’ lecture on the plane ride back in the morning. You knew Max was right and you had been stupid to underestimate the power this track had over drivers. 

Looking back on your first race in Singapore years later, you don’t quite know how you managed to finish those last laps. Pure determination and stubbornness, Max would insist later on that night. But before you’re able to fully wrap your head around how dangerous of a situation you’d gotten yourself into, the checkered flag is waving and you’ve crossed the finish line in P3, right behind Lando and Max. 

Your third podium of the year. If you had been more coherent, you probably would have been elated. But all you could think about as you pulled your car into parc ferme, right behind that little cardboard 3 sign, was the ice bath you knew was waiting for you somewhere in the paddock. 

Your red racing suit is soaked through and through, you can feel it before you even get out of the car. It takes a mammoth effort to pull the steering wheel out of it’s dock and for a moment, you worry you’re so weak you can’t even do that. In front of you, you see Lando pop out of the car in the P1 spot, elated to have won with a healthy margin of over 20 seconds for the second time that season. 

Max is out of the car too, albeit a bit slower than Lando. There’s a distant buzzing in your ear that sounds eerily like your engineer’s voice asking if you’re okay. But you’re completely unable to focus on anything beyond the tingling sensation in your legs. This wasn’t something you’d ever felt inside a race car in all your years of driving. Everything stung, like a million little fire ants were making a meal out of your flesh. It took every ounce of strength, of which you didn’t have much, to hoist yourself up out of the car. 

Your head swims the moment you stand up straight, and you feel your legs collapse under you. Somewhere off in the distance, you hear Max calling your name but you can’t look up, your helmet suddenly feeling like it weighs 300 pounds. 

Crouching in your car, you desperately try to pull yourself together before anyone notices you’re struggling. You didn’t want to give the media the satisfaction of pulling another ‘look, another woman who thinks she can hang with the rest of the F1 drivers.’ Like they’ve been attempting to do all season. 

Your eyes are closed but you still hear the faint call of Max’s voice somewhere off in the distance. The entire world is reduced down to a singular pin prick of light while you fight to stay conscious, the heat and humidity wrapping their ugly little fingers tightly around your throat. 

Just as you’re about to surrender to the warm quiet of the darkness that seems to be calling out to you, a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, hauling you out of the car like you weigh less than a bag of potatoes. You go limp in the arms of whoever has come to your rescue, collapsing under the strain of what you just put your body though. 

“Baby, please. Look at me.” 

Somehow, your helmet has been removed and you find yourself blinking up at Max. 

When did he get here? You wonder idly, not realizing it was him that pulled you out of the car. 

Max had gone practically feral when GP told him that you’d gone nearly 3/4 of the race without water. He knew how brutal this race was, and the humidity was unusually high tonight. He had gotten out of the car fairly quickly but had panicked when he saw your helmet tipped forward, resting on the halo device and you not moving. 

You lift your head, still wondering where your helmet was and instantly found yourself staring straight into the baby blue eyes of your boyfriend. “Maxie?” You croak, throat feeling like you just dined on a three course meal of sand and gravel. 

“Hey…” He coos, bringing you closer to his chest. “There’s my girl. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He rubs soothing circles over your back, not caring that the press is having a field day with this. 

“I can’t…” You stutter, struggling to make the words in your head sound coherent when your mouth tries to form them. “My legs…everything is tingling.” 

If you had been a bit more coherent, you would’ve seen the look of absolute panic cross Max’s face. He frantically looks around as he lifts you into his arms, one arm under your knees, the other cradling your back against his chest. He knew you were going to absolutely murder him when you come around and see the pictures. You hated being coddled and hated showing affection on the grid even more. You and Max weren’t really hiding the fact that you were together, most fans knew and it was common knowledge around the paddock but the causal fan might be surprised to find out the lore between the two of you. So this outright show of concern, affection, and panic over the state of you that Max was showing right now? It was absolutely not a common occurrence 

“Interviews are going to have to wait.” Max barks at Jensen, this weeks post-race presenter. “She needs medical attention.” 

Jensen simply nods, allowing you to pass. 

Fred and Charles intercept you half way to the tent, insisting that getting you in the ice baths will be the thing to help you the most. Max, nearly delirious with worry because while your eyes were open and you were somewhat alert, follows their instructions and takes you back behind the garage area where the ice baths had been set up. 

It’s all you can do to stand upright as Max unzips your race suit. It’s so heavy with your sweat that it practically peels off of you with no effort, gravity doing the work for Max. And then your left in just your fireproofs. If you hadn’t been in the middle of the paddock with thousands of people and cameras around, Max would have stripped you down to just your underwear, but that wasn’t an option. 

WIth Max and Charles’ help, you’re able to hoist yourself into the waiting ice bath. The shock of the frigid water jolts some awareness back into you the moment your body is submerged in the glacial water. 

“Holy fuck.” You grit out, eyes closing in pain. 

“I know…I know, schatje. But it’ll get you feeling better so much quicker than anything else. 

You nod, still not fully aware of how you got here but thankful for Max’s steadying presence beside you. He’s crouched down so he’s eye level with you as you ball yourself up to get as much heated skin under the cold water and the worry etched all over his face is enough to steal your breath. 

“Max. Holy fuck. That was…you weren’t just Maxsplaining to me last night, were you?” 

A chuckle finds its way out of his lips, despite the state of panic Max is in. “No, I was not just ‘Maxsplaining’ anything last night, silly girl.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You’ve got your fire back, I see. I think you’ll live.” Max leans in to press a kiss to the crown of your head before dropping another kiss on your temple, then your cheek, and finally his lips find their home on yours. Right where they belong. It’s not a lingering kiss, or a passionate one. No. This kiss is filled with gratitude and relief and sheer dumb realization of how much this man loves you. 

Your eyes are open more now, a few minutes in the ice bath doing your heat stroke symptoms good. It takes you a few moments to really grasp the severity of what just happened. How close you came to passing out mid-race. How it was Max that got you out of that car and was at your side before anyone else. 

All around you, the paddock is bustling to life. The scene Max created by hauling you over to Ferrari’s garages has somewhat dissipated. Only a few onlookers are stopped still, but your team remains solidly around you, faces a mask of concern. But the only person you see is Max. 

“Thank you, baby.” You murmur when he leans in for another kiss. 

“Anything for you, schatje.” He rasps, emotion clawing at his throat. “Anything.” 

[honeypiehotchner]

Like A Goddamn Vampire (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Is this considered crack fic? It also has smut so (inspired by this chaos I caused that @ssamorganhotchner then added to with the pictures of Hotch's neck...I regret nothing)

Warnings: secondhand embarrassment, established relationship, THAT DAMN POLO, neck biting, hickeys???, kind of sub!hotch, making out, grinding, i clearly have a thing for making him cum in his pants, y'all idk what this is don't look at me

WC: 1.5k short n spicy

You’re not a vampire. You swear.

You don’t have a good reason for why you want to bite your boyfriend, other than the fact that he looks delicious. Especially while driving.

“Why are you staring at my neck?”

“I’m not,” your reply comes quickly and gives you away entirely. This is what you get for dating an FBI profiler, the Unit Chief of them, no less.

Aaron smirks. “You were.” He pauses. “Are.”

Your eyes flick back to meet his. You hadn’t even realized your eyes had fallen down to his neck again. You look away from him, focusing instead on the passing scenery. “Lovely weather today.”

Aaron laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to rest it on your thigh. You nearly bite your own fist to keep yourself together.

“Honey,” he says, squeezing your leg. “I don’t mind.”

Your head turns toward him, curious. “Don’t mind what?”

“You staring at me.”

“Okay,” you say, your eyes falling down to his neck and collarbones again.

“Is there something on my neck?”

“No,” you blurt, shaking your head as if shaking yourself out of a trance. “No. No, I’m just--” You look ahead at the road, trying to figure out how to word this in the least embarrassing way. “I’m just. Looking.”

“At my neck.”

“What do you want me to say?” you cry, almost certain at this point that he’s teasing you. Or worse, mocking you, but you doubt it’s that. It’s almost certainly his little game of teasing you around the point until you land square on it.

The truth is, he’s always in a suit. Yes, when he stays at your place or you at his, he’ll wear a t-shirt and get comfortable. But it’s been so long -- maybe two weeks -- because both of your work schedules have gone awry, and you’re having withdrawals. Maybe that’s the explanation. It’s been almost two weeks of not seeing your boyfriend naked, and you’re losing it.

The two of you are on your way to lunch on your first joint day off in two weeks and he’s wearing a fucking polo shirt with the buttons undone and you’re losing it.

“I’m just wondering what has you in such a daze over there,” he asks, tone veering toward gentleness. “Are you okay?”

Dear god, now he thinks you’re upset and spacing out instead of horny and wanting to bite him.

“I’m fine,” you squeak out when his thumb starts stroking your inner thigh. You turn to look at him, using a surprising amount of willpower to look at only his face. “I’m great.”

He glances at you briefly, smiling. “Good.”

Good. Great. Wonderful, even.

You make it through lunch, able to focus on everything except Aaron’s neck. Your food is delicious, the weather is genuinely great, and you love to people watch.

Aaron loves to people watch, too. Except this afternoon, he seems keen to only watch you.

You squirm in your seat when you catch him staring at you again. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he says. “You’re just beautiful.”

“Oh,” you smile, staring down at your food. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You look up, keeping the smile, and managing to only glance at his neck for a second. You nod. “I’m okay. I think I was just hungry.”

Aaron doesn’t seem convinced at all. He’s seen you when you’re hungry, and you’re not usually staring at his neck for minutes on end. He lets it go, though.

Until he catches you staring at his neck again, later that night, when you’re both sitting on his couch, trying to watch a movie while you wait for the oven to preheat for dinner.

Aaron pauses the movie and you don’t even notice until he’s turning to face you on the couch, taking both of your hands in his.

“Why’d you pause it?” you ask, glancing between the TV and Aaron’s neck-- his face.

“Something’s wrong,” he says, starting to genuinely sound worried. “You’re spacing out a lot today.”

“No,” you shake your head, an embarrassed smile crawling up your neck. “No, it’s not that--”

“What is it?” he’s almost pleading, moving his head so he can meet your eyes because you won’t look at him. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“You’re too hot!” you blurt, and then immediately groan, grabbing a nearby pillow to bury your face in it.

And Aaron is laughing.

“Can you actually just take me home?” you say, muffled from the pillow. “So I can spare myself the embarrassment. Yes I’m taking the pillow with me.”

“Honey…” Aaron reaches for your waist, pulling you toward him, so much so that you are pulled into his lap.

You keep the pillow in front of your face, though you’re starting to giggle now. Even as Aaron tugs it down gently, peeking at you over the top of it.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you scold, feigning annoyance with a furrow to your brows that Aaron just thinks is the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not,” he swears. “I’m not. Can I put the pillow down?”

“Fine,” you murmur, letting him toss it away. You rest your hands on his shoulders, thumbs dangerously close to the collar of his polo shirt. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he says, hands finding your hips. “Is that all?”

“It’s been so long,” you sigh. “And I hadn’t seen you like this in a while.”

Now he’s confused. “Like what?”

“Not in a suit,” you muse, your eyes falling to his neck again. “I like your neck.”

You can see him holding back a laugh. 

You glare at him playfully. “I said don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he promises, starting to smile. “You’re just cute.”

“Cute?”

“You just said you like my neck.”

“And?”

“That’s adorable.”

“Is it cute that I want to bite it?”

The confession falls from your lips before you can stop it. You’ve never understood how someone’s eyes can darken, but you see it now, in Aaron’s. The way his pupils dilate. His hands adjust on your hips, pulling you against him. 

“You can,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

“I can what?” you ask, though you know exactly what he means.

“Bite me.”

You blame how fast you move on the fact that it has been two weeks. That’s the only explanation for the way your body reacts, instantly surging forward to kiss and suck at his neck, and to finally bite.

Aaron pulls you up for a kiss after just a few seconds, and you try not to whine into his mouth.

“You’re insatiable,” he says against your lips.

“It’s been two weeks,” you argue, gasping when he nips at your bottom lip.

He smiles against your mouth. “Did you leave a mark?”

“On your neck?” He nods. “Do you want me to?” He nods again.

You grin this time as you lean in, returning to your favorite place. You kiss and lick to your heart’s content, eventually settling on the spot right behind his ear. It’s just inconspicuous enough for you to leave the tiniest of love bites there, sitting back after a moment to admire your work. The skin is red where the bruise is beginning to form, and you thumb over it.

Aaron, meanwhile, is staring at you with a heat you’ve never seen in his eyes before, his chest heaving. And when his hands tighten their grip on you, you feel just how hard he is underneath you.

When you go to circle your hips, he stops you. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” you inquire, leaning in to press a teasing kiss to his lips. “All I did was bite your neck and you’re right on the edge, aren’t you?”

Aaron damn near whimpers against your mouth. “Maybe.”

“Do you think you could cum just from this?” you murmur, pressing your hips down and smirking when he doesn’t stop you. His fingers go slack against your hips, clearly using all of his energy to keep his orgasm at bay. “Do you want to try?”

He nods again and you capture his lips with yours, spreading your legs even wider to grind your core directly on him. The seam of your jeans gives just enough delicious friction to make you feel good, but you know you won’t climax from this. Aaron, however, only gets louder as he tries to keep himself together.s

“Come on,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the other side of his neck. “Let go.” You sink your teeth into his neck just barely, right over his jugular vein, and you can feel him twitch even through the layers of clothes. He’s shuddering through it, his hands bolted to your hips and grinding you right where he needs you. It’s intoxicating.

You press one more loving kiss to his neck before lifting your head, then kissing his lips while his eyes remain closed. He opens them when you pull away, that fire still brewing.

“And here I was embarrassed to tell you that I had been staring at your neck all day because I wanted to bite it.”

“You can always bite me,” he says, pulling your face down for another kiss. “I’m about to devour you.”

[scoupsakakitty]

Svt ot13 x reader, where like, reader made a single mistake during one of their concerts. Then when they practiced for the rest of tour reader keeps on spotting their flaws even when its fine. Maybe even overworking to the point she sleeps in the practice room? Then they(ot13) was confused to why reader hasn't come home yet, only to find reader passed out on the floor of the practice room, like literally passed out..

This is my first time doing a req, sorry if its too detailed.. please dont overwork yourself irl!!

Don‘t Dance Alone Tonight | idol!Scoups x 14thMember | angst fluff

The cameras stopped rolling. Lights dimmed. Staff members clapped as the director yelled “Cut!” for the final time. Cheers erupted. Another long MV shoot was done. But even through the chatter, the laughter, the scattered energy of a wrap party brewing — Seungcheol noticed it.

Y/N was gone.

She hadn’t said goodbye. No jokes. No nods. She didn’t even take her usual post-shoot selfie with Hoshi or tease Chan about his expressions in the last take.

Just… vanished.

And the worst part?

They hadn’t spoken all day. Not since that morning — the fight.

“You think just because you’re leader, you can talk down to me?” she had snapped in their dorm room.

“I’m not talking down to you. I’m trying to help you not burn out!” he had replied, voice rising with frustration.

“I know what I’m doing, Cheol. You don’t get it. You’re not the one messing up on stage.”

She had stormed out, leaving his words stuck in his throat and his heart heavier than he could explain.

Now she was gone. And his gut twisted.

“Y/N’s not here,” Chan said, peeking into her room in the Performance Unit’s dorm.

Seungcheol frowned. “I thought she stayed with you guys.”

“We thought she was with you,” Jun added from the kitchen, phone in hand. “She left right after the shoot.”

“She didn’t say anything,” Minghao said quietly. “Not even in the group chat.”

Seungcheol pulled out his phone again — five missed calls. All to her. None returned.

“She’s not answering?” Chan asked, voice rising slightly.

“No.” Seungcheol shook his head, trying to keep the worry from surfacing, but his tone betrayed him. “Goes straight to voicemail.”

“I’ll check the building rooftop,” Jun offered. “She goes there when she needs space.”

“I’ll try the stylist team,” Minghao said. “Maybe she went back for something.”

“I’ll text the managers,” Chan added.

“I’ll check the practice rooms,” Hoshi said without hesitation, already grabbing his hoodie. “If I were her… I’d be dancing it out.”

Studio 3 was nearly dark, save for the moonlight pouring in through the high window. Hoshi pushed the door open softly and froze.

There she was.

Y/N lay curled up on the wooden floor in the corner, her hoodie bunched up beneath her head, long legs tucked in, a bottle of water knocked over beside her.

The monitor in the room was paused mid-dance. It replayed the last segment they practiced together. Her figure in the center. Perfect form. But he knew she wouldn’t see it that way.

“Y/N…” he whispered, kneeling beside her.

Her eyes were shut tight. Sweat clung to her hairline. Her brows were slightly furrowed — even in sleep, she didn’t look at peace.

He pulled out his phone and called the only person who should be there right now.

“She’s here,” Hoshi said softly. “She fell asleep in the practice room.”

Silence on the other end.

“I’ll be right there,” came Seungcheol’s voice. He sounded breathless.

“I’ll wait.”

Seungcheol arrived within twenty minutes. When he opened the door, he found Hoshi sitting quietly near her, legs crossed, watching over her like an older brother.

“She hasn’t moved,” Hoshi whispered. “I think she passed out from exhaustion. She must’ve been here for hours.”

Seungcheol swallowed hard, guilt crawling through every inch of him.

“Thanks, Soonyoung.”

Hoshi nodded, then gave Seungcheol a small pat on the shoulder. “Talk to her. I’ll be right outside.”

When the door clicked shut behind him, the room was silent save for the soft hum of the AC and Y/N’s breathing.

Seungcheol crouched beside her. “Y/N…” he said gently, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek.

She stirred, murmuring something unintelligible before her eyes blinked open.

“Cheol…?” she croaked, eyes adjusting to the low light.

“Hey.” He forced a soft smile. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

Confusion flickered across her face, followed by recognition. Then guilt.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep…”

“I know,” he said softly. “You scared us.”

She sat up slowly, her joints cracking from the cold floor. “I just wanted to get the routine right. I messed up that one time and now I can’t stop seeing the flaws.”

“You didn’t mess up, Y/N.”

She laughed weakly, without humor. “You didn’t see the replay?”

“I saw it. And I saw you trying to perfect something that was already beautiful.”

She turned her face away, jaw clenched.

“I thought you were disappointed in me."

His chest ached.

“I was never disappointed in you,” he said firmly. “Frustrated? Yes. But only because I saw you pushing yourself too hard again. I wasn’t angry at you. I was angry that you wouldn’t let anyone in.”

Tears welled up in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to seem weak.”

“You’re not weak. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“But I keep making mistakes—”

“You’re human,” he interrupted, voice breaking. “You’re allowed to make mistakes, Y/N. I’ve made more than I can count. But disappearing without a word? That scared the hell out of me.”

She looked down at her lap. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

“I’m sorry, too. For snapping. For not checking on you sooner. For not being the partner you needed today.”

She sniffled against his shoulder. “You’re always what I need, Cheol. I just forget how to say it when I’m overwhelmed.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth on the cold dance studio floor.

Back at the dorm, Y/N entered her room quietly, grateful for the silence. Her room was her sanctuary, a rare privilege in the chaos of idol life. She’d fought hard for it — not out of vanity, but for peace.

She sat on the edge of her bed, looking at the mirror across from her.

“How long were you practicing?” Seungcheol asked from her doorway.

“Since after the shoot.”

“Did you eat?”

She shook her head.

He disappeared for a moment and returned with a bowl of ramen.

“No excuses. Eat.”

They sat on her bed, sharing the meal in silence.

“I’m not good at resting,” she admitted.

“I know. That’s why I’m here. To remind you that you deserve it.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Promise me something,” he said, voice low.

“What?”

“No more running away.”

She nodded.

“And no more dancing alone until you collapse.”

She hesitated — then nodded again. “Deal. But only if you promise something too.”

“Name it.”

“Don’t ever stop fighting with me.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Because when we fight, it means we care. And I’d rather argue with you a hundred times than feel like we’re strangers again.”

He smiled softly. “Then I promise.”

A week later, during practice for their encore concert, Y/N danced the choreography perfectly. When the final beat hit, she turned toward the mirror and met her own gaze. No criticism. No anxiety.

Just pride.

From behind, Seungcheol’s voice rang out. “You did great.”

She turned. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes full of affection.

She smiled, breathless. “You saw?”

“I always see.”

[mallowsweetmiri]

Best friend!Remus with no boundaries leaves you alone with James

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

It was another sunny afternoon spent studying in Remus’ dorm. You sat on his bed reading your Herbology textbook as Remus worked at his desk, finishing his Potions assignment. James was sprawled in the sunshine working on his Charms homework next to the open window.

“Y/N, can you pass me my vile of asphodel,” Remus said over his book, pointing to his potions trunk next to the bed. You hummed and leaned over the side of the bed, trifling through the case of potions ingredients.

“Erm, I think you’re out,” you replied, holding up the empty vile next to your face. Remus frowned and came over to the bed. He took a seat on the edge and took the vile from you. You crawled closer to him, resting your head in his lap as he flicked the vile. He sighed and ran his hand down your arm.

“I’m gonna have to go to the storage and get some ingredients,” Remus drawled, stroking your shoulder and neck with his long fingers. You hummed and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of your bestfriend’s hands on your body.

“While you’re at it, can you get some snacks from the kitchen? I can’t focus when I’m hungry,” you looked up at him through your lashes with a pout. He only chuckled at you and squeezed your cheek.

“Of course,” he grinned, scooting out from under you. You sighed as you rolled back on your stomach to read. Remus tsked and pulled your cotton shorts over your bum.

“You need to get a new pair of shorts, Y/N. I think you’ve outgrown those,” Remus said as he walked towards the door. You heard James chuckle out a breath from his bed. You stuck your tongue out at Remus as you sat up to pull your shorts down. Remus chuckled and left the dorm, shutting the door behind him. You huffed and fell back onto the bed. James laughed and shut his book.

"Remus' sure has a lot of opinions on your outfits," James teased, sitting up to stretch. You guys had been studying for a while.

"You know how he is. I don't see why my shorts being short is an issue though," you pouted, standing up and stretching over arms your head.

"Well, I think they look lovely, Y/N." James smiled at you. He was just the sweetest.

"Awww, thanks Jamie. You're always so kind," you gushed and sprang towards him for a hug. Even sitting on his bed he was nearly your height, but he had always seemed like a big teddy bear to you. James chuckled and he wrapped his arms around you.

"I'm just telling the truth. Just because Remus is your bestfriend doesn't mean his opinions are right," James joked. Your smile grew as you pulled back.

"You're so right, Jamie. Maybe I should start to listen to you more," you beamed, liking the idea of spending more time with James. He was right. You were always hanging around Remus so much, you had neglected what a good friend James was.

"I like the sound of that," James half grinned, his hands falling down to your waist. You blushed and smiled back. You'd never really been physically close with any of the other boys before, your friendship just wasn't like that. But why couldn't it be? James was nice to hug anyway.

"Can we take a break from studying?" You asked, playing with James' soft curls on the back of his neck. James hands stroked your hips as you stood between his legs.

"Isn't that what we're doing right now?" James laughed, still smiling at you. Gods, his eyes were so pretty. You couldn't focus on anything but his hands on your hips and his lips curved into that pretty smile.

"Well," you breathed, "What do you want to do?" You leaned in closer to him. James swallowed and let out another chuckle. You were starting to realize why you weren't so touchy with other friends.

"I can think of one thing," James charmed, pulling you by the hips towards him. Your lips landed on his, soft and warm as his tongue began to ask for permission. You let out a sigh and relaxed into his body, his hand coming up to your face to deepen the kiss. Another sigh escaped your lips as you moved to straddle his lap. He groaned as his hands found your hips once more, pushing you down onto him. You groaned when you felt him underneath you, rubbing up against your shorts. He was a good kisser too, biting gently on your lip as his hands made their way under your bum. If this was the result of wearing tiny shorts, you were going to wear them more often. Your thoughts escaped you as James' hands guided your hips over his, the rhythm matching the movements of his mouth. He was making your come undone with all of your clothes still on. You couldn't even imagine how good he'd feel with his clothes off. He groaned as he pushed you down over his length, his thumbs squeezing the front of your hips. You felt yourself starting to reach your edge as your hips began to take movements of their own. His tongue deepened the kiss while you moaned into his mouth. It felt like he knew every inch of your body already. Everything he was doing was sending you. Your sounds filled the room as his lips left yours to kiss under your jaw. His strong arms were wrapped around your middle as he teased down your neck. Your body was suddenly missing the friction, but James' arms were holding you still.

"James," you whined, squirming his arms. He chuckled into your neck.

"Just be patient, my love," he breathed, going back to nipping at your ear.

"We don't have time to be patient right now," you groaned, desperately needing to feel him. James hummed and gave your neck a soft kiss.

"You're right, we don't have time right now," James guided your head to look at him.

"But-"

"But I'll see you tonight?" He asked, a grin still plastered on his lips. You bit your lip as you smiled.

"Yes, I'll see you tonight." You blushed, giggling as you pulled yourself off of James. Maybe you'd gotten a bit carried away with your study break. James chuckled as he reached to pull your shorts down over your bum once again.

"Maybe Remus was right about these shorts," he smirked, thumbing the hem. You giggled as you heard the door open. Remus came into the room with an armful of viles. You and James let out a laugh. Good timing.

"Maybe," you winked at James and walked back over to Remus' bed. "Hi Rem. Did you bring snacks?" You plopped down onto his bed. Remus walked over and placed a tray in front you filled with sandwiches and crisps.

"Save me some," Remus nodded as he began to organize his potions supply on his desk.

"Do you want some Jamie?" you asked politely, turning to see James blush at you. His grin hadn't left his face. Remus' head perked at the nickname, but was too focused on finishing his assignment.

"I'm okay, Y/N. I'm actually gonna go run some quidditch drills. It's so nice out," James said casually, getting up to grab his quidditch bag.

"More for me," you shrugged and began to eat one of the halves. You watched James get his shoes on. His fingers looked so strong...

"Well, I'm out of here. Remus," James waved at Remus who responded with a nod. He turned to you, "See you later, Y/N." With a smile he ducked out of the room. You chuckled as you ate your sandwich, reaching for the book next to Remus' bed.

"Y/N," Remus sighed as he scribbled something onto his scroll, "why did James just say that?" You felt a smile tug at your lips.

"What? I can't hang out with James?" you chimed, flipping to your chapter in the book. Remus shook his head and tsked, continuing to work on his paper.

"It's those fucking shorts." You let out a snort.

[bearforcecaptions]

I always wished I had a neighbor more like me. Living here felt like I was trapped behind glass — close enough to see everyone, but never quite part of it. Most people kept their distance. And the one person who didn’t? My neighbor across the street — a massive, musclebound military guy who stomped around in full gear like he was still on active duty. Always shouting into his phone, working out in the driveway. We had nothing in common. I barely even waved hello.

One night, feeling lonelier than usual, I muttered under my breath, "I just wish I had a neighbor more like me." I didn’t think anything of it. Just a passing thought. But the world must’ve been listening.

When I woke up, everything was wrong.

First thing I noticed was the weight of the dog tags clinking against my chest. I sat up, disoriented, and the bed creaked under my heavier frame. I looked down — I was wearing only a pair of tight black boxer briefs. And my body... Thick, heavy muscles bulged under my skin, veins tracing over biceps the size of softballs. My stomach was a carved six-pack, my legs like stone columns. Tattoos wrapped around my shoulders and arms — sharp black ink I didn’t remember getting.

I opened my mouth to shout, to ask what was happening — but instead, out came a calm, deep voice: "Situation normal. Good to go." I clamped my hand over my mouth, heart hammering against my ribs. This wasn’t right.

I stumbled out of bed — bare feet slapping the floor — and nearly tripped over a neatly stacked pile of folded camo fatigues. I rushed to the bathroom, gripping the doorframe like it might disappear.

The man staring back at me in the mirror was a stranger. Square-jawed, military haircut, a body like it was carved from granite. Hardened, disciplined. Unshakable. My hands — thick, calloused — shook slightly, but my face stayed stoic, calm, trained. I had to get help.

I yanked on a tight olive-green T-shirt, fatigues, and boots waiting by the door. Everything fit perfectly, like it had been tailored for this new, monstrous body. I bolted outside, desperate to find some scrap of normalcy.

That’s when I saw him. My neighbor. Standing by his truck, grinning wide, like we’d been friends for years.

"Mornin', brother!" he barked, striding over and clapping a heavy hand on my back. I tried to say something casual, anything — but my body snapped to attention, and I barked back, "Mornin', Sergeant! Outstanding day for PT!"

No. No no no. Inside, I was screaming. But on the surface, I was steady, confident, every word crisp like I’d practiced it my whole life.

We talked — about gear, training regimens, upcoming drills — and I just kept playing along, answering perfectly, even laughing when he cracked a joke about "those soft new recruits." At one point, I heard myself say, "Woke up at 0500 hours, got my warm-up set in before chow," — like it was the most natural thing in the world. 5 a.m., I corrected silently. Normal people say 5 a.m. But my mouth would never betray the facade.

"Come on, brother, we’re late for base," he barked, tossing a duffel into the truck. Without hesitation, I grabbed my own — somehow packed and ready — and climbed in.

The base was real. The ID around my neck scanned at the checkpoint. Guards waved me through. Nobody questioned it. We spent the day side-by-side, yelling commands, demonstrating lifts, pushing trembling recruits through brutal obstacle courses. And somehow, everything I needed to know was just there — drilled into me like muscle memory I never actually earned. Every command, every drill, every reprimand rolled off my tongue with perfect authority. And somewhere deep inside, the real me — the scared, confused version — shrank further and further down, screaming silently into the void.

That night, back in my strange, hyper-organized house, I tried to process it all. Photos covered the walls — snapshots of me and my neighbor on deployments, at competitions, at ceremonies. Awards lined the shelves. My inbox was full of congratulatory messages on recent promotions. My memories — my real ones — felt like faint shadows compared to the heavy, real weight of this new life.

The world believed this was who I'd always been. The world demanded I believe it too.

And no matter how much I panicked inside, no matter how much I begged for the old life back, my mouth only said, "Yes, sir." "Roger that." "Mission accomplished."

I guess my wish had come true. I wasn’t alone anymore. I had my best friend. My squad. My calling.

And deep down, under all the tattoos, the muscle, the discipline, the pride, the old me still existed. Still thrashing, still trying to surface.

But each day, that voice grew a little fainter. Each day, it got a little easier to lace up my boots, square my shoulders, and drive out to base. Adapt and overcome. That’s the mission now.

[featjunranghae]

Fatherhood - Lee Jeno

summary: when jeno's girlfriend left him to deal with fatherhood alone. he decided he'd never let anyone in his or his daughter's life. that was until he met you. his neighbour whom his daughter seemed to love way too much

warning: suggestive at the end

last part of the three part series

part one || part two || nct masterlist

Just Like That, a Year Passed

The seasons changed, days blending into weeks, weeks into months—until, just like that, a year had passed.

The air was thick with summer heat, windows open as you sat on the cool floor of Jeno’s living room. Jiwoo was nestled between you and Jeno, her small legs stretched out as the three of you shared a bowl of strawberry ice cream. It had melted slightly, but neither of you minded. Jiwoo kicked her feet happily, enjoying the moment with her father and her... the title was still unknown for you.

You scooped another spoonful and turned to Jiwoo with a teasing smile. “Baby, what do you want for your birthday?”

Jiwoo tilted her head, deep in thought, before her face lit up. “I want a pony.”

Jeno nearly dropped his spoon. “A pony?” He poked her cheek, raising a brow. “Where exactly do you think we’re gonna keep a pony, huh?”

Jiwoo shrugged innocently. “In the house.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe you’d like a birthday party instead?”

“No. I want a pony.” Jiwoo turned to you, eyes wide and pleading as she batted her lashes. “Ynnie, won’t you get me a pony?”

You snorted, ruffling her hair. “Baby, if I could, I would.”

“I miss when she couldn’t talk,” Jeno mumbled dramatically.

Jiwoo huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Daddy’s mean.”

Jeno grinned, wrapping an arm around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Okay, okay, princess. We’ll see what we can do about that pony.”

The conversation drifted into easy laughter, and for a moment, everything felt warm—comforting in a way you never thought possible.

And then your phone buzzed. Absentmindedly, you glanced down at the screen, and the notification made your stomach flutter.

Jungwoo.

The guy you had met at the hospital where you were interning. He was nice. Sweet. And from the beginning, he had made his interest in you clear. Kun.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you picked up your phone, fingers hovering over the screen.

“Who are you texting?”

Jeno’s voice cut through the moment, and when you looked up, you found him staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

You hesitated before answering, “Just Kun.”

Jeno’s brow furrowed. “Who’s Kun?”

Jiwoo, who had been quietly observing, perked up with interest. “Yeah, who’s Kun?” She scooted closer, trying to peek at your phone.

You pulled up Kun's profile picture and showed it to her. “He’s my friend.”

Jiwoo blinked at the screen. Then, with all the innocence of a child, she asked, “Is he your boyfriend?”

You choked on air.

“N-No, baby,” you sputtered, cheeks warming. “He’s just a guy friend. He's doing residency in the hospital I'm working at.”

Jiwoo tilted her head, as if processing the new information. Meanwhile, Jeno’s expression darkened slightly.

“So…” Jeno's gaze snapped toward the clock, and something in his posture stiffened. “Why is Kun texting you at… 11 in the night?”

Jiwoo joined along. “Yeah,” she said. “Why is he texting you this late?”

You rolled your eyes at Jeno. “11 isn’t even that late.”

“Not the point, YN."

His tone held that strictness he usually reserved for when Jiwoo was being difficult, and something about it made irritation bubble up inside you.

You huffed, placing your phone beside you. “We’ve just been talking, okay? He asked me on a date.”

Jeno’s spoon hit the table with a soft clatter.

“He what—”

“What’s a date?” Jiwoo asked, looking between you both.

Jeno barely heard her. His focus was locked on you, an odd look crossing his face. “What did you say?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous under his stare. “I said yes.”

The words felt heavier than they should.

You weren’t even sure why you said yes. A part of you knew your heart wasn’t in the right place. But another part—the rational part—reminded you that it didn’t matter. Jeno had made it clear from the very beginning that he wasn’t looking to date. That after what happened with Jiwoo’s mother, he had no interest in relationships.

So what were you supposed to do? Sit around and wait for something that was never going to happen?

“I just…” You exhaled, forcing a lighthearted laugh. “I just want to put myself out there again. It’s been a year since I last dated, and I think—”

“There’s nothing wrong with staying single,” Jeno cut in sharply.

You blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden edge in his tone. “Yeah, but there’s also nothing wrong with dating.” You crossed your arms.

“Kun’s a great guy. I’m sure you’ll like him when you meet him.”

Jeno scoffed. “Oh, I bet I will.”

He pushed himself up from the floor abruptly, his movements stiff as he grabbed the empty ice cream bowl and stormed into the kitchen.

You stared after him, frustration bubbling in your chest.

“What is your problem?” You followed him, watching as he slammed the bowl into the sink with more force than necessary. “I don’t understand why you’re upset about this.”

“I’m not upset,” Jeno said, voice clipped.

“Then what’s with the attitude?”

He didn’t answer.

And that’s what made your chest tighten the most.

Because if Jeno was mad—if he really had a problem with this—then shouldn’t he just say it?

But he wouldn’t.

Because there was nothing to say.

Because you already knew the answer.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. "You're acting weird-"

Jeno’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the sink. He exhaled through his nose, still not looking at you.

Finally, he muttered, “Do whatever you want. who am I to judge?”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “Fine,” you whispered. “I will.”

You turned on your heel, walking back toward the living room.

Jiwoo was still sitting on the couch, too tired to say anything, but her big, round eyes followed you carefully.

You plastered on a smile. “Come on, baby, let’s get you to bed.”

She didn’t say anything, but she reached out for you without hesitation.

As you carried her to her room, you tried to ignore the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen. You tried to ignore the way your heart ached in your chest.

Because at the end of the day, this was always how it was going to be.

Jeno wasn’t yours.

And you couldn’t keep pretending otherwise.

—

You weren’t nervous.

Kun was a great guy—sweet, considerate, and easy to be around. He made you feel comfortable in ways that were refreshing. There was no tension, no uncertainty. You two met at the hospital. He was a busy guy but always seemed to make time for you. For everyone. As you curled your lashes and dabbed on a final touch of lip gloss, something gnawed at the back of your mind, something you refused to acknowledge.

Your phone buzzed.

Jeno: You left your AirPods. Should I drop them off before work?

You exhaled through your nose, ignoring the way your stomach twisted at the sight of his name.

You: That’d be great. Thanks.

Karina, ever the best friend, helped you get ready. She styled your hair, the two of you sifting through your closet until you settled on the perfect outfit—a short, pink sundress that hugged you in all the right places. It was cute, flirty. The neckline dipped slightly, just enough to show off your collarbones and the barest hint of cleavage.

“Trust me,” Karina had said when you hesitated. “It’s the perfect balance of cute and hot. Kun will go crazy for you."

And you did feel beautiful.

Almost.

The doorbell rang.

Karina was still in the bathroom, so you hurried to answer it, smoothing down the fabric of your dress.

Jeno stood on the other side, his hand tucked in his pocket, your AirPods in the other. His gaze landed on you, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

He looked at you.

And then he looked at you.

You saw the way his eyes swept over your frame, taking in the soft pink of your dress, the way it hugged your curves. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and suddenly, you felt self-conscious. Jeno had never looked at you like that before.

He cleared his throat, handing you the AirPods.

“Thanks,” you muttered, shifting on your feet. Then, with a nervous laugh, you added, “At least tell me how I look.”

Jeno exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

“You always look pretty, YN,” he said, voice quieter this time. Then, before you could respond, he muttered, “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

You stood frozen in the doorway, heart hammering in your chest. You tried not to let it affect your mood. Tried not to read into it. Tried to ignore the way his words settled deep in your bones.

Kun showed up—right on time, looking effortlessly handsome, a bouquet of flowers in his hands and a charming smile on his face.

“You look absolutely stunning, YN.”

His words were perfect. The kind any girl would swoon over. But somehow, they didn’t make your heart flutter the way Jeno’s did.

—

The date was perfect.

Kun held your hand. He pulled out your chair, paid for everything, showered you with compliments. He was attentive, kind, the very definition of a gentleman.

And yet…

The entire time, a part of you felt like a fraud. Because Kun deserved someone who looked at him the way you looked at Jeno.

Someone whose heart raced at his touch, not someone else’s.

Someone who wasn’t still tangled in unspoken feelings for a man who would never be hers.

—

By the time Kun walked you to your apartment, the weight of your thoughts had settled deep in your chest.

“Is this the part where I kiss you goodnight?” he teased with a smile.

You let out a slow breath.

You couldn’t do this.

“Kun…” Your voice was soft, hesitant. “I have to tell you something.”

His expression didn’t falter. He just waited, his hands tucked into his pockets as if he already knew what you were going to say.

“I…” You swallowed. “I’m so sorry. You’re such a great guy. But I don’t think I can do this.”

A beat of silence.

“Is it because of Jeno?”

You blinked, startled.

Kun’s smile remained, but there was no bitterness behind it, no resentment, just quiet understanding.

You opened your mouth, then closed it. There was no use lying.

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

But you did.

You did know.

Kun nodded, as if he had expected this. “It’s okay, pretty,” he said gently. “I get it. You’ve told me about your history. I don’t blame you.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he chuckled, nudging your arm. “At least you didn’t lead me on. And we had a nice date.” He tilted his head, smirking. “I like talking to you, you know. We can just stay friends.”

A relieved breath left your lips. “Really?”

“Of course.” His eyes softened. “I’d rather keep you in my life than pretend to be something we’re not.”

Your heart ached, but not in the way you thought it would. Kun was too good for this world.

You sighed, wrapping your arms around him in a grateful hug. “You’re too nice for this world.”

“I know, I know,” he teased. “I get that a lot.”

You pulled back with a playful eye roll.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “I haven’t been on a date in so long. It felt… nice.”

His grin widened. “Well, maybe I can take you on platonic dates sometimes. My ass hasn’t been on a date in a while either.”

You laughed. “Why not?”

He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “See you at work, pretty.”

As he walked away, you let out a long exhale.

Tonight should have been a new beginning.

But somehow, it just felt like a confirmation of something you had been trying to ignore all along.

It was always going to be Jeno...

—

Jeno had been awake all night.

Just two blocks away from you, sleep had refused to come, no matter how much he willed it. You had promised to text him after your date. But you didn’t.

Did it go bad? Did it go well?

Did it go too well?

“Jeno, you’re not paying attention!”

Haechan’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, irritation laced in his tone as his character got ambushed on the TV screen. Jaemin sighed in frustration as Jeno’s character died, causing them to lose the game.

Jeno barely cared.

He threw the controller onto the couch and got up, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m done.”

“Dude, what’s up with you?” Haechan groaned, but Jeno was already walking away.

He entered his room to find Jiwoo curled up in her blankets, her small chest rising and falling steadily. He smiled softly, stepping closer—until he noticed the slight dampness in her hair, the way her forehead shone with sweat. His heart clenched as he pressed the back of his hand against her skin. Too warm.

His stomach dropped.

He quickly grabbed the medicine and carefully pulled her into his arms, trying to get her to drink. She winced at the taste but didn't fight back.

"Call me if anything ever goes wrong."

Your voice echoed in his mind.

But was this serious enough? Was it worth calling you over something that could pass in a few hours?

No. Jiwoo would be fine.

Right?

—

Over the next few days, Jeno barely saw you. Apparently, you had come over while he was at work—at least, that’s what his roommates told him.

Was the date that good? So good that you didn’t even want to see him anymore?

The thought made his chest tighten.

By the time he returned home from work that evening, exhaustion clung to his bones. Everything seemed fine until dinner.

Jiwoo was fussy, refusing to eat, her small whimpers turning into tired cries. Then her temperature spiked. Then she threw up.

Jeno’s hands shook as he held her. He tried sponging her down, feeding her medicine. Nothing worked.

It was past midnight when it finally hit him—Jiwoo needed to go to the hospital.

“Try calling a cab,” Jaemin said, rapidly scrolling through his phone to look for an Uber as well.

Haechan cursed under his breath. “No drivers are in the area. I hate being broke,” he muttered, running a hand down his face.

Jaemin glanced at Jeno. “Did you call YN?”

Jeno hesitated.

Why hadn’t he?

Was it because of the petty part of him that didn’t want to need you? Or was it because you had a good date, and he didn’t want to insert himself into your life when you were moving on?

Either way, this wasn’t about him.

This was about Jiwoo.

Jaemin took out his phone and called you. You showed up almost immediately.

You didn’t even hesitate.

Dressed in your pajamas, you rang the doorbell, hair slightly messy from sleep, but your eyes were worried. “Where is she?”

Jeno barely had time to process the warmth in his chest before you were rushing past him into his room.

Jiwoo was curled into his arms, her face flushed, eyes barely open.

“Oh, baby…” Your voice broke as you crouched beside them, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead. Jiwoo slowly lifted her eyes to you, her lip wobbling.

"How didn’t I notice you feeling bad?" Your voice was filled with guilt. "I'm so sorry, baby…"

Jeno swallowed.

“How do we take her to the hospital?” Haechan asked.

“Kun’s coming over. He just finished his shift—he’ll be here in ten.”

Jeno tensed.

Kun?

True to your word, Kun arrived, still in his apron from work. He looked tired, but his concern was evident as Jeno relayed all the symptoms.

“Seems like summer flu,” Kun murmured, jotting down a list of medicines. “Make sure she stays hydrated. The heat is bad—try to keep her cool, and make sure she eats well. Bad weather. The hospital is full of sick kids.”

He knelt in front of Jiwoo, giving her a gentle smile. “You’ll be better in no time, sweetheart.”

Jeno watched from the sidelines, jaw clenched.

Kun was everything a woman could ever want. He had a car. He was in residency. He came from a wealthy family. he has his whole life planned out.

He was perfect.

And Jeno?

Jeno was struggling to make ends meet. Juggling between work and taking care of his daughter. He didn't know what he was gonna do in the future.

Why wouldn’t you pick someone like Kun over him?

Jeno stared as you hugged Kun goodbye, watched as he took Haechan with him to buy the medicine.

He couldn’t breathe.

—

You let out a heavy sigh as you stepped back into Jeno’s room.

Jiwoo was still in his arms, small fingers curled into his shirt. Even now, even when she was sick, she clung to him.

Jeno’s grip on her tightened.

He was afraid to let go.

Afraid to fail her.

“This isn’t your fault,” you murmured.

Jeno looked at you, startled.

Almost as if you had read his mind.

You sat beside him, running your fingers gently over Jiwoo’s cheek. The little girl stirred at your touch, her eyelashes fluttering weakly.

“…Mommy…”

The word was soft. A whisper.

But it might as well have been an explosion. Jeno stiffened. His arms went rigid around Jiwoo’s tiny body.

He looked at you.

You looked at him.

Shock flickered across your face. You blinked rapidly, as if unsure whether you had even heard it correctly.

“She…” You swallowed. “She must’ve said it by accident.”

Jeno nodded numbly, but his mind was spinning. No one had ever taught Jiwoo that word. she had never had someone to call "Mommy" before.

And yet, she had chosen you.

Jeno’s throat felt tight.

It made sense.

Of course Jiwoo called you Mommy. Who else, besides him, had ever shown her this much love? Who else had taken care of her the way you did?

And in that moment, it hit Jeno like a truck.

He couldn’t lose you.

Not only for Jiwoo’s sake.

Not for his own.

But bcause he needed you.

Your warmth. Your presence. The way you made everything feel lighter, even when the world felt suffocating.

He had been so afraid of love. So terrified of risking it, of letting himself feel.

But if it meant losing you?

If it meant watching you walk away—watching you choose someone else? That was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

He had to do something.

—

Jiwoo got better quickly after following Kun’s instructions.

Soon enough, she was back to her bubbly self, talking nonstop about her birthday plans. Jeno wouldn’t have it any other way.

He took two days off work just to be with her.

And you… you had started coming around again.

Everything seemed to go back to how it used to be. The laughter, the comfort, the easy presence of you in his life. But Jeno knew better.

It wasn’t the same. Not for him.

Because now, he knew the truth. He knew that he needed you. And he couldn’t keep it inside any longer.

That night, the dorm was quiet.

Haechan was out of town, and Jaemin had gone out with friends. Jiwoo had fallen asleep hours ago, her tiny arms wrapped around her favorite stuffed bunny.

That left just you and Jeno.

You were in the kitchen, moving around comfortably, completely at home in his space as you made something for both of you to eat. Jeno leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you.

You didn’t have to be here.

You could’ve gone home.

But you were here.

With him.

"You're staring," you said without looking up.

"Can we talk?" Jeno asked.

That made you pause. You turned to him, brows raised. "Of course. What's up?"

Jeno exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. His heart was racing. This was absurd. So absurd.

But he had to say it.

"I… I want you to stop seeing Kun."

Silence.

You didn’t say anything.

Jeno’s stomach twisted. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. Maybe this would ruin everything—

But there was no going back now.

"He's a great guy," Jeno admitted, voice rough. "You were right about that. But I don’t care. I don’t want you to see him anymore."

You blinked. "Why not?"

Jeno’s throat tightened. His fingers curled against the counter. "Because I can't let him have you."

Your breath hitched.

Jeno clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep going. "I know what I am. I know I’m a single dad, that I don’t have enough money, that I don’t even have my future figured out. I know Kun is the better option. But I don’t care.

I want you—I need you."

His voice broke.

"You've shown me love. You’ve shown Jiwoo love. And I… I want to be able to show you that love back."

"Jeno…"

"Please," he whispered. "Give me a chance."

Your lips parted, hesitation flickering across your face. "Kun and I aren’t dating."

Jeno froze. "What?"

"I…" You swallowed, looking away for a second before meeting his eyes again. "I couldn’t. I couldn’t date him. Not when my heart already belonged to someone else."

Jeno’s mind went blank.

"Huh?"

"I like you, Jeno." Your voice was quiet but steady. "I’ve liked you for a while."

Jeno could barely breathe. "Then why’d you… why’d you go on the date?"

You gave him a sad smile. "Because you said you weren’t looking to date. And I… I thought I had no chance."

Jeno was stunned.

No chance?

You—YN L/N—the most beautiful girl he had ever met. The girl of his dreams. The one who made him believe in love again. The one who made him want to try again.

Jeno stared at you, taking in everything- the way your hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, the way you looked so natural standing in his kitchen, wearing his apron, making food for both of you.

And something inside him snapped.

Before he could stop himself, he was moving.

His hands found your waist, fingers gripping tightly as he pulled you to him. Your breath hitched, eyes widening, but you didn’t pull away.

His lips crashed onto yours.

It was desperate, raw, filled with all the emotions he had been trying so hard to suppress. He kissed you like a man starved.

You melted into him instantly, hands gripping his broad shoulders as he pressed you back against the counter.

His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you impossibly close. Your scent, your warmth, the soft gasp you let out against his lips—it was driving him insane.

Jeno groaned, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid against your lips, and you opened up for him, letting him taste you.

You were sweet. Addictive.

His tongue tangled with yours, slow and teasing at first, but quickly growing more heated, more desperate.

A low whimper escaped you, and Jeno nearly lost it.

His hands roamed your sides, feeling the curves of your waist, the dip of your back. He wanted to feel every inch of you, wanted to memorize the way you fit against him.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging slightly, and he let out a shaky breath.

"Fuck," he murmured against your lips. "I wanted to do this for so long."

Your eyes were heavy-lidded, lips swollen as you looked up at him. "Then don’t stop."

And Jeno didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Not when you were right here, kissing him back with just as much need.

His hands roamed your waist, gripping tightly, holding you against him like he was afraid you’d slip away. Your fingers curled into his hair, tugging slightly, and he groaned into your mouth.

Jeno’s hands moved down to your thighs, lifting you slightly before walking you backward. You let out a small gasp as the edge of the couch hit the back of your knees.

He pushed you down onto the couch, hovering over you before capturing your lips again.

This kiss was different.

It was deeper. Rougher.

Jeno kissed you like he was making up for lost time, like he had been holding himself back for too long and finally, finally, he could have you.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, tasting you, teasing you, and you melted into him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, but it still wasn’t enough.

You needed more.

Jeno’s hands roamed over your waist before sliding down to your thighs, fingers gripping the soft flesh. He squeezed lightly, and you whimpered into his mouth.

That sound.

It drove him crazy.

He pulled away just for a second, catching his breath, his forehead resting against yours.

"Fuck," he whispered. His eyes were dark, filled with something primal, something desperate. "I can’t get enough of you."

You shivered, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin. Jeno inhaled sharply as your nails traced over the toned muscles of his abdomen.

"Jeno," you breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

He groaned, dipping his head to your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your skin.

You sucked in a breath, hands tightening around his shoulders. "Jeno…"

He groaned at the way you said his name, like it was a plea, like you needed him.

His lips trailed lower, tongue flicking against your pulse before he sucked lightly on your skin.

You gasped.

Jeno stilled for a second before smirking against your neck. "So this is the spot, huh?" he murmured, voice low and teasing.

Before you could respond, he latched onto the sensitive area just below your ear, sucking harder this time.

Your body arched instinctively, a whimper escaping your lips.

Jeno cursed under his breath, his grip on you tightening as he soothed the mark with his tongue before going back for more.

Your hands tangled in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and he groaned, nipping at your skin before sucking even deeper, determined to leave a mark that wouldn’t fade so easily.

His hands moved again, sliding under your shirt, fingertips skimming over your waist. He traced the curve of your back, pressing you closer, until there was no space left between you.

Your body responded instantly, legs parting slightly to make room for him as his hands gripped your thighs again, kneading them before slowly trailing upward.

You gasped against his lips, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Jeno—"

He swallowed your words with another deep kiss, tilting his head to get even closer, his tongue brushing against yours in slow, deliberate strokes.

His hands wandered, exploring, feeling. He wanted to memorize every dip, every curve of your body.

You were intoxicating.

He pulled away, chest rising and falling heavily, his forehead resting against yours. His hands remained on your waist, fingers pressing into your skin as if grounding himself.

The room was silent except for your uneven breaths.

Jeno licked his lips, his eyes still dark with lust. But beneath it all, there was something else. Something deeper.

"Tell me you’re mine," he whispered, voice raw.

You swallowed, eyes locked onto his.

"I’m yours, Jeno," you whispered.

That was all he needed to hear.

He kissed you again, slow and deep, pouring every unspoken emotion into it. This was all he needed. Jiwoo. You. His everything. Maybe he too deserved love. To be cherished.

taglist: @rubiiisyeon @x-luv @iseos1 @nctead @jaeminnanaaa17 @jae-n0 @bluedbliss @justanotherkpopstanlol @chenlesfeetpic @urlocalbeaner5 @hoeingthefuckup @rensaries @leeymws @toyoongg @sunghoonsgfreal @ajaaaaayyyyy @bbykaixx @7dreambaby

an: we're finally done with 'Fatherhood'. should I make an epilogue?

[arminsumi]

. . . 𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Suguru Geto

From your perspective, you're just two strangers. But you have no idea just how insane it all looks from his side. He's smitten — and a total hypocrite on your lips.

► '... you're my religion, you're how I'm living.'

+ Content: cult leader Geto, dad Geto, non-sorcerer reader

+ Requested by @betonlosingfrogs

+ Author's note: cult leader Geto Suguru may be serious but I like to think he'd just look like a goth dad in the supermarket, buying cereal for his girls

+ wc: 2k

Looking closely at the back of a bright-pink cereal box that his little ones nagged him to buy, Suguru stood slightly hunched over with his dark hair in a sloppy bun.

The stress of his newfound life as a dad showed on his deeply indented eyebags — he looked so severe, so unapproachable, like he would bite you if you stared at him. And yet, many stared. Because underneath the eerie was calm, and in his black eyes there was a hidden tranquility.

"Stay in sight, girls." Suguru warned softly to Mimiko and Nanako, who he saw through his peripherals were bounding about the aisle, "I don't want to lose you two."

Not heeding his warning at all, they went off on their own little ways, drawn to the aisle that you happened to be shopping down. And so within a few minutes, Suguru's usual composure disappeared as he burst into panic.

With quick-paced, long strides of his spider-like legs, he went looking for Mimiko and Nanako, furrowing his brows until two lines formed between them, briefly checking each aisle, pacing back his steps.

He turned abruptly into people, looking down on them in disgust, knocking a few products off shelves with his haphazard path. All the while, his heart thumped in his chest.

And you, leading two little ones by the hand to the cereal aisle, immediately had this feeling that he was their dad.

Still, you asked. "Which one's your dad?"

"That one."

They pointed at a gothic-looking, terrifyingly tall man with a severe expression on his face. He looked so unapproachable that you almost didn't want to walk up to him.

With not much courage, you sheepishly approached Suguru. He turned, his sight landing on his girls, then he darted his black eyes up at you.

"... Sorry, I told them not to wander." he apologized.

Why am I apologizing? Suguru thought to himself.

"No worries." you smiled gently at him. "This is a small store, I'm sure they would have found you by themselves eventually — but they approached me for help."

"Oh." Suguru said with a subtle tone of surprise.

Suguru looked down at his girls and saw how calmly they were holding onto you; like you were their mom. His heart throbbed and he felt inexplicably freaked out.

"Well, I'm glad." he said, surprising himself in every new moment that passed, "Thanks. Girls, let's go."

With that, he abruptly left. Judging by the curl of his lips and the feeling shrouding him, you assumed that he must have not liked talking to people.

. . . 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞,

"Why are you going out?" his girls asked as he put on his cologne.

"... I have a meeting with some very important people." he replied calmly, readying himself to leave.

The girls hurried after him with little steps, "Can we come with?"

"No, no. I want you two to stay here." he said, patting their heads, "And be good; don't eat the cereal, it's meant for breakfast, okay?"

They were clingy as he left. As he descended the gaudy turquoise stairwell of his apartment complex, he thought about you.

You. He had the memory of your face nearly crisp in his mind, the echo of your voice on repeat somewhere in his subconscious.

Trying to blur you out of his mind proved impossible until he was finally behind the closed doors of a meeting.

The meeting of which, had only one purpose; to preach words against non-sorcerers.

Suguru narrowed his eyes and spoke in a deep, reverberating voice to his followers as they all faced him, sat on their knees.

Ego swollen, he left his 'meeting' feeling refreshed, self-assured; until he got three-quarters of the way home, and coincidentally happened upon you; completely helpless and cornered by a slim, toothy curse that you had no hope of escaping without needing to rush to the hospital afterwards. It had already drawn blood from you, Suguru observed.

And the smell of your blood met his nose as he just lingered out of sight, watching you struggle.

Am I really this cruel? He thought to himself. Is it necessary? If I make one exception, doesn't that just make me a hypocrite?

Suguru thought all this, knowing that his mind was already made up.

He hummed to himself, rolled his eyes, stared up at the sky and then walked calmly over to you.

With utter silence in his mind, Suguru lazily exorcised the curse, and ignored your wide-blown, horrified eyes that were now directed at him — who was just a normal stranger to you until now.

He looked down at you for a while, then after a bout of silence, he hesitantly asked, "Are you okay?"

And those words were a bigger deal for him to say than for you to hear; you had no idea how hypocritical he was being, how merciful he was being, or how insane the context was.

You gave him an unsure nod, "I think so?"

"Can you stand by yourself?" he asked.

"... it was biting my ankle... " you sounded more and more weary, Suguru noticed every beat change in your voice, every movement of your lips as they spoke each syllable.

In your small and vulnerable state, you kept an apprehensive expression on your face as Suguru leaned down and helped you up, offering his arm; you saw the hint of a tattoo underneath his sleeve, something like a dragon's tail.

"Which ankle?"

"Huh?"

"Where did it bite you?"

His voice had hardened. You showed him where, and he looked at it, the trickle of blood and the bite marks.

I hate you so much, but I'm not that cruel. He thought, his heart thumping harder.

. . . 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞,

"The teeth marks look so cool!" Mimiko commented.

Nanako nudged her sister out of the way, eager to see, but then she frowned, "Can I help you wrap the bandages?" she asked you.

"No, let her be, girls, please." Suguru said, giving you a quick glance.

As soon as they left, he found himself apologizing once more, "Sorry, they haven't been this hyper in a while."

"They're so sweet. So you're a single dad? Where's the missus?" you asked, feeling more at ease.

"There is no missus." he replied stiffly, "It's just me."

"Oh. Now I understand why your eyes look so tired." you said.

He smiled a little, "Yeah, they're a bit of a handful, but I love them."

Confused and somewhat embarrassed, Suguru quickly ironed the smile out of his lips.

"... so there's no missus..." you continued the conversation, "Are you seeing anybody?"

Suguru looked at you, eyes widened, completely taken aback by not only your forwardness but the question itself; why did you want to know? Were you attracted to him? Why were you attracted to him?

"Uh, I'm not in the dating scene." he replied curtly. "It's beneath me."

"Aw, what a terrible attitude you've got..." you teased. "Sorry, sorry."

His heart throbbed, this time not because he was freaked out, or self-loathing, or anything such; he knew exactly what he was starting to feel, so he washed out his feelings quickly.

"Sorry, I wasn't aware that I had an attitude."

You smiled flirtatiously at him — now that really threw him off.

Slightly disoriented, he snapped-to when the girls' voices came through the door.

"... Nanako spilled cereal all over the kitchen floor!"

He sighed, held back the smallest of smiles, and straightened out his back like he was suddenly aware of how he could seem more attractive to a woman.

"Excuse me." he said, then left you to help yourself with the bandages.

. . . 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮,

And Suguru's black eyes lit up brightly when he saw you again at the same grocery store, this time alone.

He told himself that he would only say hi and leave. Yes, just a little hello — that was all that he deemed necessary.

I don't have time to waste. That's what he thought.

His time was money. And he spent it all on you, right there, in the aisle of a grocery store, indulging in fifteen minutes with you.

Fifteen minutes turned into twenty, into twenty-five, and after thirty minutes he finally snapped-to, as if out of a trance — but only because you abruptly said;

"Oh, I've got to go."

"Oh... sorry to take so much of your time." he apologized.

"Not at all, Suguru, I would give you more if I could. Ah... actually," you spoke and he listened, intently, to your tone shift into something more flirty, more sensual;

"Would you like to meet again, tonight? I know a great restaurant — "

" — Yes, absolutely." he agreed without thinking.

All his ideals and beliefs? What are you talking about? He's just a smitten boy.

. . . 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮,

How rigidly he waited for you, looking around in search of your face with an eagerness that he could no longer effortlessly conceal.

She's late. He thought, lowering his gaze.

But a few minutes after thinking this, he saw your face. In the small seconds before you saw him and approached his table, he fussed over himself; he rubbed his lips together to make sure they looked soft and red, he neatened his hair, he cleared his throat, he straightened his posture.

"Sorry I'm late, the traffic was terrible." you apologized.

Suguru's body language was alive with attraction, "It's okay, I didn't mind waiting." he said.

"I hardly believe that. You look hungry." you teased.

He felt caught, and blinked at you. Did he make it obvious? He was so sure that he controlled his emotions.

"... I'm sure you'll like the food here."

He relaxed, realizing he misunderstood.

. . . 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝-𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐧,

I could be your cult leader. He mused to himself. And you could be my sacrificial virgin.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking of a joke."

"Hm, well I love jokes. Why don't you indulge me?"

"I don't know if I should; I've got a bit of a twisted sense of humor." he feathered.

Your sultry lash-fluttering had his body heating up, feeling restless, feeling on the verge of a small insanity.

This tiny, indescribable insanity that was buried so deep inside him that he could easily ignore it, but he chose not to, and just gave in.

This feeling shadowed his wake as he walked you home, listening to you flirt and giggle next to him was overwhelming him.

All you noticed was that he almost smiled, that he kept taking big sighing breaths like he was steadying himself — his mysteriousness almost annoyed you, which in turn made you feel even more interested in him.

Just as you were wondering to yourself if you got through to him, he gave you a goodbye kiss on the cheek. Too eager to wait for the unpredictable future, you decided to kiss his lips.

He let out a low hum of surprise, but quickly melted, quickly reciprocated and pressed his warm lips on yours. More than that; he leaned into you, let you stroke his cheek, enjoyed every little second.

But Suguru had to exercise extreme control over himself; if he didn't have the discipline of a martial artist, he might have kissed you harder, might have kissed you breathlessly, like a starved, insane romantic.

And maybe he liked seeing the begging look on your face. It made his ego swell, it made him think of things he could never tell you, lest you think something's wrong with him.

"Can I see you again?" he asked.

"Do you want to?" you flirted.

He refrained, cutting out a lot from his response, "Of course I want to..." he almost whispered, looking at your lips.

You smiled and it got him all twisted up inside. "Well, then ask me out on another date, silly."

He hummed, eyeing your lips exclusively now.

"... are you free next Saturday?" he asked slowly.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[sturniolohouse]

That's Life - M.S

A.N: After the stream where Matt said he liked the name June– which has been a name on my baby list for YEARS now – I couldn't stop thinking about this scenario, so I decided to write it. Sorry if it's bad. (I'd also say they are still very young in this, maybe 23/24. But imagine any age you want, I don't really specify.) Hope you enjoy!

summary: dad!matt - a cute snippet of Matt and y/n becoming brand new parents and Chris and Nick meeting their niece for the first time. mainly fluff :')

warnings: none, really. maybe swearing and mentions of blood? (also use of y/n because apparently that is hated? idk)

word count: 2.4k

"Kid, hold her fucking neck." Matt panics as Chris readjusts in his seat on the couch.

"Matt shut the fuck up, I think I know how to hold my own niece." he retorts.

"No, you clearly don't you idiot."

I peer to my left, he holds her with one hand under her head and one hand under her butt, propping her in front of him on his lap. She's perfectly fine, Matt just worries.

"Look she's fine. She's with uncle Chris." Chris looks at her adoringly but Matt cautiously watches, biting his nails.

"How are you feeling?" Nick asks beside me, rubbing my shoulder as I eat my burger. I was starving and the first thing I wanted after giving birth was In and Out, so Matt made sure Nick and Chris brought it for me.

"I'm so tired but just relieved everything went okay."

It was a long labor, almost 20 hours and about an hour of pushing. I waited to the very last minute to get an epidural and Matt almost passed out once he saw what it actually was.

-

"That goes in your fucking spine?" He squeaks, his face turning pale as he nearly keels over.

I'm sat up with the anesthesiologist behind me prepping the needle. I grab Matt's forearms and bring him to stand between my legs so he's hunching in front of me before I collapse my head into his chest and groan.

"Don't fucking look at it, hold my hands." I seethe through the pain as I wait for the contraction to pass.

"I'm so sorry," He says into my ear as they stick the catheter into my spine and I stay as still as possible.

"I want In and Out after this is all over," I breath out, beginning to feel my lower half go numb.

"I'm getting you whatever you fucking want, sweetheart." He looks me dead in the eyes.

-

"It's kinda fucking nuts that she was just inside you, how the fuck did you like..." Chris speaks up looking between the baby and me. "Push her out..." He hesitates and I burst out laughing as Matt throws his arms up and shakes his head at him, stopping himself from knocking Chris' shoulder.

"Well, it wasn't easy." I wipe my tears from my eyes due to my laughter and Nick gives me my water so I don't choke on my dry ass fries.

"Women are the strongest people on the planet." Nick chimes and Matt smiles proudly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's fucking right. So much respect after all I witnessed." Matt rubs his eyes, seeming to be mentally reflecting the past 36 hours.

"She's so fucking cute, looks nothing like Matt." Chris comments, a small smirk growing on his face at the playful jab.

"Okay, give her back you're pissing me off." Matt quickly but gently takes her back even as Chris protests and pouts, sulking back into his chair.

"Lost your baby holding privileges," Nick points at him as Chris makes a face and sticks his tongue out, a throaty bellow echoing in the hospital room.

Nick immediately hushes him. "Can you not act like a barbarian? Fucking idiot." He scolds him.

Matt cradles her softly and my heart still melts at the sight of him holding her. It makes everything I went through so worth it. The both of them do.

-

I lay there in shock with a wailing baby placed on my chest. I look up at Matt on my left and he's got his hand over his mouth and tears brimming his eyes, staring at our baby with so much love.

My chest blooms with warmth and I look down at our daughter. Anyone else would look at her and think she was gross, being purple, covered in goop and blood, but she was quite literally breathtaking. Matt blubbers and bends down so he's more level to me.

"Oh my fucking god," he laughs through his emotion, wiping his eyes quickly and placing a hand on her blanketed back, her cries dying down.

"How the fuck did you do that? You're amazing oh my god." He rambles, kissing my sweaty hairline and I shake my head not really knowing how I did this either.

They let Matt cut the umbilical cord before taking her off me to bathe her quickly.

Matt grabs my face checking in on me. He scans all over my face,"You okay? You did so good, oh my fucking god." I nod quickly, feeling my adrenaline still rushing. It's a weird feeling to describe, but I am so happy.

"She was so tiny, did you see her?" I ask him, my voice a little shaky and he nods laughing, tears still shining in his eyes.

"I did, I did. She's perfect. Thank you." He kisses my lips this time and then looks over to the nurses bringing her over to him.

"You want to hold her, dad?" The nurse smiles and he visibly pales but nods nonetheless and takes her into his arms.

He looks at her and begins to tear up again, having to compose himself by looking up shaking his head. When he looks back at me, I'm sent me over the edge into my own fit of tears.

I would relive this day over and over again to just see that look on his face.

-

He walks over to Nick who's still beside me, bouncing her slightly.

"Nick, cmon. You've yet to hold her." Matt nods toward Nick to take her from his arms. Nick immediately shakes his head and steps back.

"No she's too fresh and tiny. I don't want to break her." He declines.

"Chris get him the pillow. Nick, hold her. You won't break her I promise you." I give him a reassuring rub on the arm and his eyes widen.

"I'm scared," He squeals quietly as he sits down in the chair and Chris sets up the pillow in his lap. Nick covers his mouth as he watches Matt walk over to him. 

Chris puts a hand on his shoulder, "Nick it's gonna be fine." He giggles at his antics and I stifle my own laughter.

"Dude c'mon, I'm telling you to hold my kid not a bomb." Matt rolls his eyes and Nick flips him off.

Matt places her carefully so she's snug in Nick's arms and he freezes immediately.

"What do I do?" He looks up at me in fear.

"Just that. You're doing fine. See, she's perfectly content in your arms." I tell him softly and grab Matt's arm so he stands next to me.

I kiss his forearm and he looks back at me with a warm smile, wrapping his arm around me and sitting beside me on the bed. He pulls me in gently before kissing the top of my head.

"I'm trying to see any real defining features in her but she quite literally just looks like a baby," he studies her face as Chris takes photos of them.

"She definitely looks more like y/n," Matt says, rubbing my arm lightly before stealing one of my fries from my tray.

"I think she has my nose for sure. She hasn't really opened her eyes yet, maybe you can try and wake her up. The nurse should be coming soon to help me feed her."

"I just realized, what's her name?" Nick asks, lightly rubbing her cheek with the back of his finger to try and wake her.

"Yeah, have you guys finally decided?" Chris sits down next to Nick on the couch.

Matt and I look at each other. We had been debating her name since we first saw her face. Of course we had a list prepared but we didn't want to settle on a name until we could match it to her face.

It was hard agreeing on names at first as we had very different tastes but there was one that kept coming back up in conversation and once we saw her it was a no brainer.

I nudge Matt, "Go ahead, tell them." I lean my head against his shoulder.

"Her name is June," They 'aw' in unison.

"June Iris Sturniolo." Matt tells them her full name and he can't help the smile that spreads across his face. 

"I love that, such a sweet name.” Nick smiles down at her.

"Does it have a meaning? Or did you guys just like the name?" Chris pulls back her hat.

"Holy shit, she has a lot of hair." he comments.

"Explains all of my heartburn." I huff and Matt giggles beside me.

"We liked the name and we were looking at lot of nature names, month names, classic names. We landed on June a few times when going over names but didn't want to make it official until we saw her." I start and Matt nods before speaking up.

"Well, we had some music playing during the whole labor and everything but after Y/N started pushing, our playlist ended and started playing whatever. And right before June came out, the song That's Life by Frank Sinatra played. And in the song, there's a line that goes: You're riding high in April, shot down in May but I know I'm gonna change that tune when I'm back on top, back on top in June. Right when we heard that and then we saw her face, we knew that was her name." Matt concluded and I tear up.

"That's so fucking cool," 

"Stop I have chills, oh my god."

"And Iris was my grandmothers name, but we also liked how it sounded with June. It was proven really hard to find a middle name that sounded good with June and Sturniolo." I laugh.

“I love that her name has a cool story behind it that you can tell her one day.” Nick says and I get emotional thinking about telling my daughter the day of her birth.

"Hi June, you gonna wake up for us?" Chris speaks softly to her. She stays put as Nick and Chris look at her expectantly.

"I wouldn't want to open my eyes either if I were just in a a warm dark place for almost nine months and all of sudden I'm in a bright ass hospital room with a loud idiot." Matt speaks looking directly at Chris.

"She must take that after you," I say playfully and rub his chest. He rolls his eyes.

"Aw, a little Mattitude." Chris uses a baby voice, tickling her belly playfully. “Look she even makes Matt’s stank face he does when he’s mad.” He points.

“Oh my god she does,” Nick exclaims.

"Not to be weird, but you are all basically her father since you have identical DNA. Also if you guys have children one day, they'll be genetically June's half-siblings." I state my fun fact and all their faces drop.

Nick gasps, "Wait, that's actually crazy because I was just going to joke around and say 'aw she has my eye-bags'." His eyes widen and I shrug at him proving my point.

"That's so fucking weird." Matt shakes his head in realization.

Chris acts repulsed, putting a hand up. "Yeah, I don't like thinking about that. I'm no one's father, thank God." He does the sign of the cross.

"Yes. Thank God for that." Matt says shortly.

"I don't know, I think Chris will be a good dad one day." I defend him and Matt gives the side eye. 

"Thank you y/n," He says with a hand over his heart.

He walks over to me and gives me a side hug. I kiss his cheek, offering him a fry and he takes it appreciatively.

"I'm definitely staying the fun uncle." Nick states, turning his attention back to June. "One day, you'll be big enough to stay at Uncle Nick's and I'll get you anything you want without your parents knowing," he says quietly to her but we can all still hear him.

She begins to stir in his arms and he freezes again.

"Oh no, she's waking up. Is she gonna cry?" he panics. "Matt quick, take her."

"She might want the boob," he says taking June out of Nick's hold.

She begins to fuss and squirm but Matt calmly shushes her and begins to bounce lightly.

"It's her feeding time in 15 minutes, should I try without the nurse?" I look up at Matt and he shrugs.

"I don't see why not. She's clearly hungry now."

"Uh, should we leave?" Chris says awkwardly and I wave him off.

"I'm gonna cover myself don't worry. Unless you want to leave," I say nonchalantly, not having a care in the world after just about everyone in this hospital has seen me naked. But of course I won't be flashing anyone.

"Junie don't cry, here's mama. She's got the food." Matt tells her quietly, bringing her to me as Chris clears my lap for me and goes to sit down next to Nick again.

"My baby," I pout as I grab her and her little cries die down once she's in my arms. "You already know the deal sister, let's see if we can do this." I talk to her confidently hoping I can do this on my own.

Matt stands beside helping me cover up and get June in the right position.

"There you go, all better." Matt speaks to her softly as she latches on and I exhale in relief. "Good job, mama." He runs his fingers through my hair and rubs my neck.

The nurse walks in mid-feed and praises me. "Looks like you've got it under control here." She smiles and checks my vitals quickly before stepping back out of the room.

Once June finishes eating I burp her upright on my lap, facing her towards everyone. At this point she's wide awake and everyone is staring at her.

"Oh my gosh, her eyes are like, gray," Nick says. 

"Can she see me?" Chris waves at her, shaking his head and sticking his tongue out.

"Her eyes will most likely change color, they can change up until she's a year." I tell them. "And she can probably see you as a blob, Chris. Stop dancing." I tell him and he stops mid griddy. 

"Oh..." He looks defeated and she burps loudly in that moment, making him laugh. "Why does she burp louder than me, she's like 12 hours old." he jokes.

I feel Matt's hand on my shoulder again and he gives me another squeeze. I look up at him and smile tiredly, he leans down to give me a kiss. Something we rarely do in front of others because we hate PDA. But we can't help it this time.

 I hear a snap of a camera and we both look to see Nick with his film camera.

"I couldn't resist. First family portrait." he smiles softly. "I can't believe you're a father, Matthew."

"Believe it, kid."

"Nick, will you actually take our family photos when we get home." I ask rubbing Junie's back. 

"The fact that you even asked that," he says looking offended and everyone laughs. "Of course I will, though."

[captain-huggy-bear]

Morning Sickness

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex in the past, pregnancy, etc.

Summary: Quinn is getting increasingly worried about you as you're sick every morning and every evening, you're adamant that you're fine. Turns out you're right in a way.

Notes: Thanks to the person who sent this idea in :)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It starts around a month after your honeymoon. Every single morning Quinn wakes to the sound of you throwing up and every single night he holds your hair back as you're sick over the toilet.

You pass it off as a bad stomach bug or anxiety, something different every time but Quinn doesn't believe you nor does he like what's happening. He's had many health scares with you; the chest infection that led to you being hospitalised after you nearly passed out at work being a prime example. As a result, he knows better than to assume that when you say you're fine, you're actually fine. Instead he sits with a heavy buzz of anxiety in his chest, a fear that something is seriously wrong but not knowing what and not knowing how best to convince you to get a check up and see the doctor about it. You’re stubborn to a fault. 

It's another one of those evenings where he's happily curled around in bed, blankets tucked in around both of you. You're in his arms, back to his chest, legs twisted together so that any movement jars the other, but you're so used to it at this point that sleeping apart is more difficult and less restful than navigating the tangled mass of limbs that the two of you become each night.

When you try to slip out of his arms he's awake like a shot, blinking through bleary eyes while you push his arms off you so that you can get up. Quinn lets you go, an instant release but he's quick to follow, footsteps padding on the carpet after you towards the bright light of the bathroom. Never once considering rolling over and going back to sleep.

"You okay, baby?" You're leaning over the sink, taking deep breaths, cheeks puffing out as you try your very best to not be sick again, nausea roiling through you. You’re so fed up of being sick, it’s become a routine that’s led to you being careful about what foods you eat in the morning and evening, learning what is the worst to throw up and what’s the least offensive thing to throw up.

All you can do is shake your head frantically before you're rushing to the toilet, knees hitting the floor with a loud thud as you lean over the toilet bowl to be sick. Quinn winces at the sound of your knees impacting tile and he's beside you in an instant, hands reaching for your hair to pull it back and out of your face so you don't have to worry about throwing up in your own hair.

"Oh, baby...just let it out..." A warm, free hand landing on your back, rubbing soothing circles as he feels the way your body jerks with each bout of sickness, your muscles contracting and relaxing each time. 

You’re crying, he can hear it, the way you whimper and whine because this is the worst and you’re fed up with being so violently sick…It only increases his worry because this has been going on for too long and it just doesn’t seem to be getting any better. 

He stays beside you, holding your hair and rubbing your back until you’re no longer vomiting. When you stop, cheek resting against the toilet seat in exhaustion he’s up and reaching for a glass to fill with water for you.

“Here, baby, have some water…” You take a mouthful only to spit it out in the toilet in an attempt to get the taste of vomit from your mouth, before downing the whole glass. It doesn’t really help much.

“I hate this…” You groan out, feeling silly because it’s not even like you feel ill most of the time, you just keep getting these random bouts of sickness in the mornings and evenings. Quinn shouldn’t be as worried as you know he is…it’s probably all in your head, maybe you’ve created a Pavolvian response to the morning and night time where your body expects to be sick, so you are?

“I know, baby…” Quinn runs a hand over your hair, pushing a few strands out of your face and behind your ear, he’s gentle about it, long fingers gingerly caressing your skin like he’s worried you’ll break, “You need to visit a doctor, baby.”

“It’s probably nothing, Quinn…I’ve just eaten something or have some sort of bug or something…” You don’t want to go to the doctors, you’re certain this will blow over soon, that it’s nothing serious and you hate the idea of taking more time off for it even as your husband looks at you like you might be the most stubborn human being on earth. 

“For weeks?”

“Quinn…” You sigh out his name because you don’t want to argue, because you’re tired. All you want is to go back to bed, curl up in his arms and get what little sleep you can before you have to go to work in the morning.

He must see how tired you are because whatever fight he had seems to leave his body, shoulders slumping, head nodding to himself like he’s made a decision in his mind to put this down for the moment even if he wants to keep going, repeat himself until you give in.

“Okay…okay, let’s get you to bed at least…” He gives up arguing because you’re so tired and have to be up at 6am for work. It’s bad enough you're not feeling well, let alone that you have to still teach like this, adding exhaustion to the mix is just a bad idea. He’ll keep pushing until you go to the doctors, but right now? Right now he can see you're tired and sleep is probably better for you than arguing at 1am. 

Quinn helps you to your feet, your hands resting in his much larger ones while he pulls you up. He keeps both hands on your hips the whole time as the two of you waddle your way back to bed, there’s part of him that worries you might fall or faint on the way back to bed, hands firmly gripping you just in case. 

He curls around you once you're both back under the covers, almost protective like he’s trying to shield you from some unseen threat and you nestle back into him, resting your head on the arm underneath you. 

The early morning throw up session had you completely wiped hours later, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise that you felt dizzy as the day went on. Even more so because food was just not enticing you and you had skipped lunch when your sandwich made you feel queasy just looking at it. Each lesson felt harder and harder to teach and your last lesson of the day had your head reeling. It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise with how dizzy you felt, how lightheaded you were, that you fainted completely in front of your students. Thankfully, you had felt it coming on, having lowered yourself to the ground mere seconds before it happened.

To give them their dues, your students who could have used that as an opportunity to cause a mess, do whatever they wanted and generally cause chaos, actually tried to help. They were so concerned for you that they got another member of staff to come help, David, your favourite trouble making hockey fan, put his rolled up Canucks hoodie underneath your head and Stacy checked you were still breathing. The fainting spell didn’t last long, within a minute or so you were back to consciousness and trying to sit up, staff and students trying to force you to lay back down. 

It’s Laura, the English teacher next door, who grabs your phone and calls your emergency contact, Quinn…even as you protest and tell her not to bother him, that you’re fine. All your protests go ignored by the forty year old, who had become something of a mentor and parental figure during your time at the school.

“Hi Quinn, sorry, it’s Laura from Y/N’s school?” You can’t quite tell what Quinn says on the other line, but you’re sure it’s along the lines of ‘what’s wrong?’ in a panicked tone because no one ever used your phone. You hate worrying him, he has so much on his shoulders already, so much weight there from the team, the season, his brothers…

“She’s fainted, do you think you could come get her? It’s the end of the school day anyway but I don’t think she should be driving home…thanks, Quinn.” 

You groan at her, tempted to tell her off for calling him against your wishes but you know she means well…you also know there’s absolutely no chance you’re getting away with avoiding the doctors now. In fact you wouldn’t be surprised if he drove you straight to the doctor's office after coming to get you…still, maybe you should see a doctor, what with throwing up all the time…and now fainting? 

Laura won’t even let you get up from your spot on the floor, packing your things away for you, getting your students to chill for the last 10 minutes of the day and waiting until Quinn arrives. You know she’s worried you’ll faint again, but it feels ridiculous, sitting on a cold, dirty classroom floor waiting for your husband to come get you.

“Hey, baby…” The way he stands in the doorway to your classroom when he finally arrives makes you want to cry. It’s like he’s scared you’re going to faint again, a sense of hesitancy and caution in his body language that you hate because Quinn is never like that around you. 

“Please don’t…don’t be scared of me, right now…” You feel like crying, wetness starting to fill your eyes and your voice coming out choked. You’re not even sure why you’re so emotional about him looking like that when Quinn’s always worried about you, it’s not a new development. He cares so he worries. 

“Hey, hey, I’m not scared of you…I’m worried, baby.” He’s crossing the space between you as quickly as possible, crouching down next to you with care, hands reaching for your face gently to rub his fingers across your cheeks to try and calm you down.

“I’m sorry…I don’t mean to be a bother…” Your eyes are so watery that Quinn’s face is a blurry mess, but even then you wouldn’t be able to mistake the serious set of his brow, the way his jaw clenches, how he always takes your concerns and worries seriously.

“Sweet girl, hey…you’re not a bother. You’re never a chore, okay? But I'm going to need you to accept that we need to go to the doctor's now, okay? I’ve already phoned them, they can see us in forty minutes.” You can’t really deny him, he’s been so patient with you, worried, but not pushing you to go to the doctors too much and you know he’s right…something’s not normal right now and you need to get checked out.

“Okay…” The smile he gives you is radiant, relief filled and bright like your answer is enough to make his day. It makes it worth it.

“Atta girl, right, let’s get you up off this floor, okay?” 

You nod at him, reaching for his outstretched hands and letting him grip yours tightly, your wedding rings gleaming and new under the fluorescence of the classroom lights. As Quinn stands he pulls you with him, helping you to your feet and holding you steady when you get a bit of a headrush from the sudden upright position.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, i’m good,” He doesn’t quite look like he believes you, “I promise, i’ll let you know if i’m not.”

He’s got an eye on you the entire way to his car, always watching in case you suddenly faint or trip or take a dive to the ground. You don’t, your dizzy spell has passed and now you just feel emotional and embarrassed about the whole thing. 

As is routine by now Quinn opens the car door for you and buckles your seatbelt, making sure it rests comfortably against you and isn’t digging into you at all. He goes a step further than normal though, reaching into the backseat to grab a blanket he keeps there for when you get cold, laying it over your lap and tucking it under your thighs like he’s worried you’ll get cold on the drive to the doctors. 

Quinn leans forward into the car, pressing a kiss to your forehead gently causing you to close your eyes, letting out a happy sigh. He lingers slightly, hand smoothing down some of your fly away hairs before he shuts the passenger side door and gets into the driver's seat. 

There’s a heavy silence that settles over the two of you while Quinn starts the drive to the doctor’s office. It’s a silence that screams that Quinn has things he wants to say, words he’s holding inside him right now and you wait patiently for him to break. 

It doesn’t take long, a few minutes pass before he’s watching you from the corner of his eye, “You need to start trusting me to handle knowing when something is wrong…” He sighs out at you, and you try not to cut him off, biting on your lip to force yourself to listen until he’s said what he needs to say. “I know you’re scared of being a burden and putting more stress on me, but, baby…I’m your husband. I need to know. I want to know. My job is to support you. I can’t do that if you’re not letting me in…” He reaches a hand across to squeeze your leg, an attempt to reassure you that he’s not mad, but that he wants you to trust him more and you get it…you do. You’ve been so reluctant to put any more stress on him, but here’s Quinn demanding that you do, telling you he wants to know when things aren’t quite right.

“I just…you have all this pressure on you and I don’t want to add to that.”

“Baby, the only stress you’re giving me is when you don’t let me help you…I need you to promise me you’re going to start relying on me more, please?” He can’t take it anymore. The way you try to hide how you’re doing, try to take all that onto yourself so that he doesn't get any of the pressure. You’re the only pressure he wants, fuck hockey, fuck the season, but he needs to know what’s wrong with you so he can fix it, so he can help you.

You reach for his hand on your leg, twisting your fingers in his and holding his hand tight, watching him glance at you out of the corner of his eye, focusing on the road for the most part. 

“I promise.” 

Quinn’s shoulders drop in relief, his need to support and protect you, to look after you already feeling better now that you’ve promised you’ll actually communicate with him properly. He loves you, but your fear of being a burden is his least favourite thing about you. He hates that people have made you feel like you have to minimise yourself, your problems. Hates that you’ve been trained to be so hyper independent and self reliant. 

“Have you taken a pregnancy test?”

You blink at the doctor like she’s insane because the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind that that was a possibility, that maybe you were pregnant.

“Uh, no…”

“Have you been using protection? Is it possible you’re pregnant?” You try to think back to your last period, late, try to think back to the last time Quinn and yourself had unprotected sex…your honeymoon. So over the moon, so giddy the two of you hadn’t really thought about it, forgoing the usual precautions because you were married now so it didn’t seem like such a big deal. 

You look at Quinn, the two of you sharing a look that says you’re both thinking back to your honeymoon, the two weeks of being absolutely feral for each other that you really didn’t think much about the consequences…well, you did, in a sense. Quinn had had a great time considering what you’d look like pregnant with his child, dirty talk filled with comments about getting you pregnant, but it had all been fantasies, silly in the moment dirty talk, neither of you had really considered (rather stupidly perhaps) that it might become a reality. You hadn’t thought…normally it wasn’t that easy for people and you’d always had concerns about fertility in your family in the past so why would it be that easy for you? 

“It’s…it’s possible.”

“Okay, I want you to go take this test and come back when you’re done. I think you might just be experiencing some really bad first trimester morning sickness.” You take the test offered to you, the little pee cup and pipette too, glad that she wasn’t expecting you to pee directly onto the stick…

“Do you want me to wait outside the door?” Quinn asks as you hesitantly get up, not really wanting to go alone, as silly as it was because all you were about to do was pee into a little cup and put some drops onto a pregnancy test, it wasn’t like you were going to do anything crazy. But, you’d never had to take a pregnancy test before, you’d never had to deal with the reality that you might be pregnant and even if it's with your literal husband it’s still kind of scary...

“Yes, please…” He’s reaching for your hand without any hesitation, guiding you out of the examination room and towards the toilets. 

You hesitate before entering, scared to find out the answer, unsure which you want to be true; that you’re pregnant or that there’s something else causing you to be sick and faint. You want kids, both of you have discussed it time and time again, but you always thought it would be planned, that the two of you would be actively trying when you got pregnant. 

“It’ll be okay, y’know? No matter what. If you’re not pregnant we’ll figure out what’s wrong and if you are? That’s a good thing, we wanted kids, baby.” Quinn can see you’re scared, the way you grip the test tighter, how you seem to stop breathing as you stare at the bathroom door. He’s trying to not get his hopes up, to temper some of the excitement he can feel because he really…fuck, he really hopes you’re pregnant, he’s so ready to be a dad, and it would be an added bonus to know you weren’t seriously ill, just dealing with the first trimester. 

“Yeah, just…wasn’t expecting it to potentially be this soon.”

“I know, baby, but it’ll be okay and mom’ll be over the moon.” You smile at the mention of Ellen, how excited she’ll be…heck Jack and Luke would be ecstatic to be uncles, suddenly things didn’t seem quite so scary when you considered the people around you, how supportive they would be.

“Yeah, she’ll probably scream down the phone…” If you’re pregnant goes unsaid but it’s there, the reality that maybe you’re both starting to get your hopes up for something that isn’t going to happen. 

“Okay…I can do this.”

“You’ve got this, baby…it’ll be okay,” He smiles at you one last time before you disappear into the bathroom.

Your hands shake the entire time you’re in there, completing the test and putting it on the side to wait. You pacing a hole into the floor, back and forth, back and forth as the time ticks down on your phone. In that time you start to get excited, nervous, but excited. The initial shock of potentially being pregnant disappearing in favour of thoughts about what it would be like to finally have your first child with Quinn…how he’d teach them to skate, how Luke and Jack would play with them at the lake house in the summer, how Ellen and Jim would be devoted grandparents, how you’d read them books every night and make your own Christmas traditions… Your nerves now centred on that possibility that you weren’t pregnant, that your hopes might be crushed.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look when the time was up, reaching for the door handle to Quinn pacing outside the door. His head shoots up the moment you open it.

“So?” Quinn looks so expectant, lips bitten and red from all his worrying, waiting for an answer. 

“I…I can’t look, can you check it for me?”

“Uh, yeah, course, baby.” You can tell he’s nervous too, but he steps inside the bathroom, locking it behind the two of you for privacy. You point to where the little, but no less life altering, test rests by the sink. 

You watch him walk over, watch the tension in his shoulders, how he looks at the little test, seems to read the marks, and then again, and again like he’s struggling to process it. You know the answer the moment his shoulders relax, the moment he turns to you with tears in his eyes and a wide smile, so wide across his face. He’s practically grinning, vibrant in the way he is after a won game or how he was at your wedding. The sort of vibrant that changes Quinn, his usually understated calmness wiped out in favour of pure unfiltered joy. 

“We’re…we’re having a baby…” Saying it feels unreal at first, that those two little lines can mean so much, that right now, in your tummy is your baby. The perfect mix of the two of you slowly growing into someone amazing, someone he’s so excited to meet. 

“Yeah?” You can feel your own excitement starting, hearing it is making it real, so fucking real. 

“Yeah, baby!” You’re crying, he’s crying, it’s a mess when you come together in a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you and lifting you off the floor to spin you around. You’re both crying into each other when his mouth slants over yours for a kiss, one of his hands cupping the back of your head, the other resting gently over your throat.

It’s a kiss that feels monumental, deep and filled with love, so much love that the taste of the salt from your tears does nothing to deter either of you as you cling to each other. The scratch of Quinn’s beard, the silky smoothness of his hair in your fingers, the way you cling to each other, you’ve not felt that happy since your wedding day, since you both finally said I do. It feels like the world has shifted on its axis in the most spectacular of ways and all that worry, all that fear is gone, just like that. 

He’s so fucking relieved, that’s part of it. God, is he excited that you’re pregnant, that he’s going to be a dad, but part of the excitement is relief, that you’re okay, that you’re not seriously ill. You’re just pregnant, just dealing with morning sickness and all the changes associated with growing a baby. 

When you pull apart neither of you go very far, foreheads pressed together, noses nuzzling against each other. His hands still cradle you close to him, his breath warm against your lips.

“We’re going to be parents…you’re going to be a mom…” There’s something about him saying it that makes it feel more real because it feels almost out of body of an experience, to find out you're pregnant when you had no plans to be. 

“Yeah…you’re going to be a dad…”

“Fuck, I love you…” Quinn kisses you again, soft but lingering as a hand comes down to rest against your belly, no sign yet of the bundle of cells that’s growing into a baby, “and I love this little bean too,”

“I love you too, you’re going to be so great, they’re going to love you.”

“They’re going to love us.”

[bjlipss]

— 00:11, worms, dreams, and other emergencies;

your daughter asks wild, hilarious questions neither you nor nanami can answer—until she asks the one that matters most.

1. “how do i know my dreams aren’t the real world and this is the dream?”

the morning is barely happening. the sun hasn’t even fully made up its mind about rising. you’re in the kitchen, groggy and squinting at the cereal box like it personally wronged you. nanami’s walking in from the shower, towel around his neck, and your daughter is already up—too awake—swinging her legs at the kitchen table, biting into toast like she’s lived three lives.

then she says it.

“how do i know my dreams aren’t the real world and this is the dream?”

you stop mid-pour, nearly drowning your cereal.

“what?” you croak.

“like—when i’m asleep, everything’s weird, but also it feels real. and maybe when i’m awake, this is the fake part, and i’m actually sleeping in the dream world.”

nanami stops in the doorway. “it’s too early for existential dread.”

she blinks innocently. “what’s dread?”

“something you feel when you realize your five-year-old might be more philosophical than you,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair, but she doesn’t catch it.

“huh?”

“nothing,” you both say at the same time, glancing at each other.

she purses her lips in confusion, much like her father does when he is deep in thought.

you set the cereal down slowly. “sweetie, dreams are like… brain movies. they’re fun, or strange, but they’re not real. this is the real world.”

“but how do you know?” she says, wide-eyed. “what if you’re in my dream right now?”

“i—” you start, then shut your mouth.

she leans in, whispering: “what if i made you both up?”

nanami sits down, rubbing his temples. “this is worse than the time she asked if the moon had feelings.”

she shrugs and goes back to munching her toast as if nothing happened.

“if i wake up and you disappear,” she adds between bites, “i’ll miss you.”

you stare at her, deeply unsettled, while nanami wordlessly pushes the coffee toward you like a peace offering.

2. “do worms know they’re worms?”

it’s early spring, the kind where everything still smells a little like mud and thawing grass.

the three of you are walking home from a nearby café, your daughter holding both your and nanami’s hands, swinging her legs with each step. puddles glitter on the pavement, and the clouds look like someone wrung out the sky.

she suddenly stops, tugging your hand. “look!! worm!!”

she crouches dramatically on the path, face inches away from a wriggling earthworm.

“sweetheart,” nanami says, tone wary, “don’t put your face that close to—”

“shhh,” she hisses, waving a tiny hand. “i’m listening.”

“to the worm?” you ask, pausing beside her.

she nods solemnly. “he’s on a mission.”

you squat down beside her. the worm is, in fact, just trying to not die. “what kind of mission?”

“i think he’s going to his worm job. maybe he’s late.” she tilts her head. “do you think worms know they’re worms?”

you blink. “um… what?”

“do they know? do they wake up and think, ‘i’m a worm and i have worm things to do today’?” she glances up at you, completely serious.

“i don’t… think they wake up,” you say slowly. “they don’t really sleep like we do. or have—alarm clocks.”

“but maybe he has a worm watch,” she whispers.

nanami, still standing with his hands in his coat pockets, sighs. “then we’re probably interrupting his commute.”

she gasps, scandalized. “we have to help him get home!” she starts scooping up the worm with a stick, incredibly gentle for someone who once bit a crayon in half out of rage.

so the three of you spend ten minutes hunched over wet pavement, relocating a single worm into the safety of the grass like it’s a royal procession. at one point, nanami mutters something about “early retirement” and “this is not how i pictured fatherhood,” but he’s crouched beside you, doing it anyway.

an older couple passes by, gives you a look.

you pretend not to see it.

your daughter waves at the worm. “good luck at your job!”

3. “if i can’t see my brain, how do i know it’s there?”

it’s bedtime, and your daughter is nestled under the covers, her favorite stuffed animal tucked under her arm. the room is quiet, the only light coming from the soft glow of the nightlight you’ve had to replace twice now because it always ends up in her bed somehow. she snuggles into the pillows, a slight frown tugging at her lips as she stares up at the ceiling.

“if i can’t see my brain,” she asks, her voice unusually serious for such a late hour, “how do i know it’s there?”

you pause mid-yawn, your eyes blinking as you try to come up with a way to answer. nanami glances at you, but he looks just as stumped.

“well,” you begin, “your brain is inside your head. it controls everything you do.”

“but i can’t see it,” she insists, her little voice quiet but firm. “so how do i know it’s really there? what if it’s just pretending?”

you look over at nanami, who seems to be thinking just as hard. this is no ordinary five-year-old. you feel like you’re about to enter into an existential debate with a toddler.

“um…” nanami sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s like… trust. you can’t see the air, but you know it’s there because you breathe it.”

she stares at him, processing the comparison for a moment. “so… i can’t see the air either, but i know it’s in my lungs?”

“yes,” you say, nodding vigorously as though you’ve figured it out. “exactly. and your brain is the same way.”

she thinks about this, her little face scrunching up as she turns it over in her mind. then, without warning, she turns to you with a completely different thought.

“but what if my brain is just hiding?” she asks, her voice dripping with suspicion, as though your brain is the biggest trickster in the world, sneaking around behind her back.

you and nanami look at each other, unsure if you should be worried or impressed with how deeply she’s thought about this.

+ 1. “will you love me when i’m older, like a grown-up?”

it’s a quiet night. the house is calm, and the only sound in the air is the soft ticking of the clock and the low hum of the refrigerator in the background. your daughter has crawled into your lap, her hair soft and smelling faintly of lavender shampoo, her favorite scent. she curls up there as if nothing in the world matters more than the security of this moment.

you’re about to speak when she lifts her head from your chest and looks up at you both, her little face uncharacteristically serious.

“will you love me when i’m older, like a grown-up?” she asks, her voice soft but full of an emotion you hadn’t expected.

there’s a weight to her question that catches you off guard. nanami pauses, his hand stilling in her hair as he looks down at her, then at you.

you both know that this is one of those questions that goes beyond the usual curiosity. it’s the first sign of a child thinking about the future, about change, about the passage of time.

you swallow thickly, your heart tightening at the thought of her growing up. you lean down and kiss the top of her head, your voice gentle but firm.

“we will always love you,” you say, the words feeling more important than they ever have before. “no matter how old you get. even when you’re grown-up.”

“even when i’m a really old grown-up?” she asks, her voice filled with that same curiosity, the kind that comes from wanting reassurance.

“especially then.” nanami says, his tone unusually soft as he brushes her hair from her face, his voice a low promise.

“you’ll always be our little girl, baby.” you add, your heart full as you wrap your arms around her a little tighter.

she smiles then, a small, peaceful smile, before she snuggles into your arms, content for the night. no more questions. no more worries.

for now, the world is perfect.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Fear factor||Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Just as Lando finally warms up to Y/N’s pet snake, Slinky, he discovers that she’s added a new member to the family—a tarantula. And now, once again, he has to face his fears.

Word count—964

What pet next?

Lando had officially made peace with Slinky. It had taken months of patience (and a lot of bribing with kisses from Y/N), but he could now sit comfortably with the ball python slithering across his lap. Hell, he’d even taken a few selfies with Slinky, which Y/N had definitely saved in a folder labeled “My Boys” on her phone.

And now, here he was, lying on Y/N’s couch, casually letting Slinky curl around his arm as he scrolled through his phone. If past Lando could see him now, he would’ve passed out.

“You’re not so bad, mate,” Lando muttered, giving Slinky a small pat on the head. The snake flicked his tongue in response, almost as if in agreement.

Y/N walked into the room, pausing to admire the scene. “You’re officially a reptile guy now.”

Lando scoffed, not looking up. “Let’s not get carried away. I tolerate one snake. That’s the extent of my growth.”

Y/N hesitated, shifting slightly on her feet. “…About that.”

Lando finally glanced up, immediately suspicious. “What?”

Y/N bit her lip before nodding toward the corner of the room. “I, uh… I got a new pet.”

Lando’s stomach dropped. “A new what?”

Y/N smiled nervously before leading him toward another glass enclosure—smaller than Slinky’s but still big enough to house something alive.

Lando stared at it warily, his brain already cycling through worst-case scenarios. “…Please tell me it’s, like, a fish. Or a gecko. Or literally anything that isn’t—”

She tapped on the glass.

A moment later, a large, very hairy, very eight-legged creature emerged from a hideout.

Lando screamed.

Not just a startled yelp. A full-on, heart-stopping, “this is the end” kind of scream.

He bolted backward so fast that Slinky nearly went flying.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!”

Y/N winced. “Lando—”

“IS THAT A SPIDER?!”

“She’s a Grammostola pulchra,” Y/N corrected, as if that made things any better. “A Brazilian Black Tarantula. And her name is Charlotte.”

Lando’s face was pure betrayal. “Oh my—why?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!”

Y/N sighed. “Because I love spiders. And she’s gorgeous.”

Lando pointed at Charlotte, who was now sitting still, minding her own business. “NO. SHE’S A NIGHTMARE WITH LEGS.”

“She’s harmless,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “She’s actually one of the most docile tarantula species out there. They’re super calm.”

“‘Calm’ and ‘spider’ don’t belong in the same sentence!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, stepping closer to the tank. “Come on, just look at her. She’s adorable.”

Lando did not look. “Nope. Nope. This is my villain origin story.”

After Lando calmed down (which took a while), Y/N sat with him on the couch, gently rubbing circles on his back.

“Okay,” she started, “I get that you’re scared. And I won’t force you to hold her or anything.”

“Good,” Lando muttered. “Because I was considering moving out.”

Y/N laughed. “But… maybe you could just sit with me while I handle her? See that she’s not scary?”

Lando side-eyed her. “You do realize I only just got used to Slinky, right?”

“I know. And I’m proud of you.” She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Which is why I think you can do this too.”

Lando huffed, but his face softened slightly. “…She doesn’t, like… jump, does she?”

Y/N grinned. “Not unless you startle her.”

“Great. That’s so comforting.”

An hour later, Y/N sat on the floor, legs crossed, with Charlotte resting in her hands.

Lando sat a very safe distance away, watching with a look of deep distrust.

“She’s so gentle,” Y/N cooed, letting Charlotte slowly walk across her palm. “See? Just a little fuzzy baby.”

Lando’s entire body was tense. “That is not a baby. That is a horror movie prop.”

Y/N giggled. “You said the same thing about Slinky at first.”

“Yeah, but snakes don’t have eight legs!”

Y/N let Charlotte continue her slow crawl, keeping her movements steady. “She’s just curious. She likes to explore.”

Lando squinted. “Does she know she’s terrifying?”

“Not at all. She thinks she’s cute.”

“Delusional.”

Y/N smirked. “Come a little closer.”

Lando’s expression screamed absolutely not, but after a long internal debate (and some very convincing puppy eyes from Y/N), he scooted forward.

Charlotte, seemingly unbothered, remained perfectly still in Y/N’s hands.

Lando hesitated. “She’s not gonna, like… lunge at me, right?”

Y/N chuckled. “She’s not a werewolf, Lando.”

Slowly, cautiously, Lando extended a single finger, hovering just above Charlotte’s fuzzy body.

Y/N nodded encouragingly. “Go on.”

With a deep breath, Lando barely brushed his fingertip against Charlotte’s back.

The tarantula didn’t react.

Lando exhaled. “…Huh.”

“She’s really soft, isn’t she?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “…Yeah.”

For the first time that evening, he looked properly at Charlotte—not as some monstrous beast, but as an animal, just doing her own thing.

“She’s not as awful as I thought,” he admitted.

Y/N beamed. “That’s progress!”

Lando sat back with a sigh. “Yeah, yeah. But just so we’re clear—if she ever escapes, I’m moving out.”

Y/N smirked. “Noted.”

Lando side-eyed Charlotte. “And tell her if she tries to befriend me, I will scream.”

Charlotte, of course, remained unbothered.

A week later, Y/N walked into the living room to find Lando sitting near Charlotte’s enclosure, arms crossed.

She paused. “What are you doing?”

Lando didn’t look up. “Having a staring contest.”

Y/N blinked. “…And?”

“She’s winning.”

Y/N burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you like her now, don’t you?”

Lando huffed. “I tolerate her.”

But when Charlotte twitched her legs, Lando muttered under his breath:

“Nice one, mate.”

Y/N grinned. Yep. He was officially warming up.

The End (…Until the Next Pet).