#but I kind of want to go home and just stay there

[jarofstyles]

Juno

Based off of the song Juno, I tried my hand at writing song inspired one shots again! this one is filthy but I hope you guys enjoy it anyways.

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WC- 3.5k

Warnings- heavy breeding kink, cum play, soft dom H, slight restraining, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up yall)

It had been a long fucking day.

Being the boss wasn't for the weak, apparently. Harry had been through the ringer today especially. People unable to communicate, an overly long and exastrubsating meeting, having to terminate an employee, all of it had made him itchy for the day to end- only for him to have to stay late to fix a problem. He had felt guilty texting his girlfriend that he was going to be home late, telling her his day had been a bit hellish.

Thankfully, he had been blessed with one of the most incredible women in the world, who assured him she was fine, not to worry about her and she would see him when he got home- but he hadn’t expected just an incredible sight to greet him as he opened the bedroom door.

It was like a vision he’d see in the most incredible of dreams.

Y/N was stretched out on the bed, her head propped up on a pile of pillows. She was wearing a tiny, frilly pink babydoll nightgown that barely covered her assets and showed off her legs- god, her fucking legs. The delicate fabric shimmered in the soft lighting, catching Harry's eye and drawing his gaze downward. Dragging his eyes down the perfectly wrapped present, he counted every single one of his blessings.

“Hi.” She spoke softly, clambering up to her knees and crawling to the end of the bed. “I missed you today, H.”

Harry's heart skipped a beat as he watched her crawl towards him, his eyes taking in the delicate nightgown that flowed over her curves in all the right places, riding up her thighs as she sat on her knees waiting for him. He felt a surge of love wash over him, his exhaustion melting away at the sight of her. Crossing the room in long strides, he met her at the end of the bed. "I missed you too, baby," He murmured. “What’s all this, hm?”

“I got a package today. This was what was in it.” She shrugged, running her hand down her waist to show it off. “I figured you had a rough day, but you like when you see the pretty things I buy. I thought…. Maybe this would make you happy.” Her hands ran over his chest, peering up at him through her lashes. “I wanted to make you happy. I love you so much.”

His eyes softened, warmth spreading through his chest as he took in her words. She really had no idea how much she affected him, how much he absolutely adored her. Reaching out, his fingers brushing against the delicate, shimmery fabric, slowly running it up her thighs until it bunched around her waist. "It makes me very happy, my sweet girl." He murmured, his voice raspy as he took in the sight of her bare hips and thighs. "Come here." Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he urged her to straddle his lap, which she did without complaint.

“I know it’s hard to be the boss all day.” Her voice was silky as she ran her finger through his hair, the gel keeping it back having failed hours ago. The man looked slightly disheveled, and that did something to her. “I know you need to come home and have a soft place to land. You’re so good to me. I brag about you to my friends all the time. About everything.” Even the not so appropriate bits. She couldn’t help it! “I want to be the one to help you make your fantasies come true. You pay the bills here, so…” Shrugging her shoulders, she bit down on her glossy lip. “I figured I’d give you something pretty to come home to.”

Harry's large hands palmed her ass, squeezing lightly as she straddled him, her warmth pressing against him. Her words, her kindness, her thoughtfulness, it all made him want to be a better man. She was the soft place he landed every day, his happy place. He leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed as her fingers combed through his disheveled hair. “You are… incredible. Fuck me. Can’t believe you’re real.”

“Do you like it?” Pressing her lips to the corner of his, she hooked her finger in his shirt and tugged the half undone tie to the ground. “What I put on for you? I know you like to say M’your little angel. Figured this was a little angelic for you.”

He growled softly in approval, his hands tightening on her ass as her fingers made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. "It's perfect, just like you." He sighed, his voice hoarse with the amount he had yelled today, and his desire for the girl on his lap. His hands roamed over her curves, his touch gentle but greedy. The man could never get enough of her. He loved how she would let him have his way with her, no matter what he desired. Nothing and no one could compare to how she made him feel, playing into every base level instinct he had. "My little angel... Dressed like that... S’almost unfair."

Y/N let out a giggle, loving the effect she had on him. Knowing he was such a powerful man and yet he had a weakness in her was more arousing than she could have prepared herself for. She loved being his soft spot, his little angel. “It is fair, though. I wore it just for you. And I decided…” This was the part she had been nervous about all day. The decision she had made. She wanted him to lock her down. “I know we aren’t married yet, but I don’t think I can let you wait any longer to give you what you want.” Brushing her nose against his, she spoke against his lips. “I think m’gonna let you get me pregnant.”

Harry's breath hitched, his eyes widening for a moment before they filled with a heat that almost burned her. "Y/N..." He growled, his voice low and loaded. "Are you sure? We can wait if you're not ready." Even as he said the words, his hands tightened on her, pulling her closer against him. He wanted it, he wanted her, like this, forever. When she nodded to agree that she was absolutely sure, he let out a deep groan, eyes wild as they searched her own. " Say it again. Please."

“I want you….” She purred, leaning in so their chests were pressed together. “To get me pregnant. Knock me up.” Smearing their lips together, she sucked a soft kiss to his bottom lip before murmuring again. “Put a baby in me.”

A shudder ran through him at her words, his control snapping. "Fuck, Angel..." He groaned, crashing his lips against hers in a bruising kiss. His tongue delved into her mouth, claiming her, tasting her. She tasted so fucking good, so much like his. He couldn’t get enough. One hand tangled in her hair while the other slid down to grip her thigh, squeezing, owning. Pulling her down fully, he ground up against her, letting her feel how hard she made him. It had started the moment he walked in to see her splayed out on the bed, but this was something else. His weakness. "You want my baby?"

“Uh-huh.” She giggled against his mouth, turning it into a whimper as she felt his cock rub up against her. Since coming to the decision she had been wet, aching for him to actually do it. She wanted to keep him, lock him down in every sense of the word. Be the only one for him. She wanted to be the mother of his children, all of them. There was no patience for waiting. The ring could come later- she had known he got one anyway. “I want to be yours so badly. I need it.”

"Shit, baby, you already are.." Standing up and with her in his arms, he turned them over and set her down on the mattress with her back against it, looking at her with intense eyes. "M’going to give you my baby, my everything. You're going to be so fucking pregnant with my child, everyone's going to know it." Fumbling with his belt, he tossed it down and hurriedly stepped out of his trousers, letting his shirt fall off his shoulders as he watched her sit back up.

Her hands went for his briefs, tugging them down with shaky fingers. Y/N was just as needy for it as he was, and it showed. He let his head fall back, a low groan rumbling in his chest as she wrapped her hands around his shaft and pumped slowly, leaning down to lick the tip. He twitched in her grasp, throbbing in her palm.

"That's it, baby..." He encouraged softly, his hands tangling in her hair as he guided her head down, slowly thrusting into her warm, wet mouth. "Just like that. Get it nice n’wet for me." He pulled out, his breathing heavy.

She came back up for air, her hand pumping him slowly as she looked up at him with wide, eager eyes. "Open up for me, sweetheart. Stick out your tongue." He watched intently as she obeyed, baring her neck and tilting her head back. He wrapped a hand around the base of his erection and slowly pumped, his eyes rolling back as he grew harder. "Thatta girl..." He guided the tip to her lips, rubbing the head on her bottom lip.

He fed her his length slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as he savored the hot sensation of her mouth wrapping back around him. He pulled back and thrust into her mouth again, his hands tangling in her hair and guiding her head. "Look at me, Y/N. Keep your eyes on me."

Her eyes fluttered open, her lashes casting shadows on her flushed cheeks as she looked up at him, her mouth stretched around his thick girth. She hummed against him, eyes watering as he thrust further into her mouth. She looked so good, taking him like that, and he couldn’t help but groan, his pace quickening. "That's my good girl. Such a sweet little thing f’me."

He gently thrust in and out of her mouth, his hands cradling her head. "Relax your jaw for me, Y/N... that's it... jus’ like that." He praised her softly, his voice a husky whisper. "You're doing so well, m’love." He thrust a little deeper, pulling back quickly when she gagged slightly, his eyes flashing with concern. "Careful, careful. Breathe through your nose, baby, you can take it… Y’know how to do it."

She breathed in through her nose as he instructed, her chest rising and falling. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes from the push but she didn't pull away, determined to please him. Her hands came up to grip his thighs for balance as he continued to slowly thrust. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked gently, her tongue swirling around the tip each time he pulled out.

He was absolutely stunning, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his chest heaving with each breath. The sight of his strong thighs tensing and flexing under her hands, the way his abs clenched... it was almost too much. She wanted to memorize every detail. She needed to be his, forever. His skin was flushed and damp with exertion, his hair disheveled. He was the picture of raw, masculine beauty. And he was all hers..

It was adorable, how she whimpered at the loss of his cock as he pulled it from her mouth, but he needed to have her fully. Claim her in the way she had promised to let him. “Mmm, shit. Baby, you’re too good. S’okay.” He panted, pulling her up by her arms and crushing his lips against hers. "I need inside, love. I can't...I can't wait any longer. I need t’put my baby in you."

She nodded eagerly against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck as he adjusted her against the fluffy duvet. Never in her life had she been this fucking horny, but that was simply the way the man tended to affect her. Her legs spread wide for him, her heels digging into the bed as she watched him move to hover over her. Positioning himself between her thighs, his hands gripping her hips firmly, admiring the beauty that was his angel underneath him. "Y/N...look at me, sweetheart. Keep your eyes on me, okay?" His voice was gentle, loving, but his face was contorted with raw, unbridled desire.

"Need you t’watch while I knock you up." He grit out, pressing forward and filling her with one long thrust. Letting out a low groan as he bottomed out, his eyes fluttered shut in rapture. "Oh, fuck." He hissed, reveling in the feel of her wrapped around him. This was what he needed, the remedy to his long day. Always her. He stilled for a moment, giving her time to adjust to his size. It was a stretch, and he knew it. "Okay?" he asked softly, his hips flexing forward slightly.

“Uh-huh.” Her eyes were glued to his, wide and glassy as he filled her completely. The sensation of being so full, so stretched, was overwhelming. It never got old. When she got tipsy and slightly loose lipped, it was one of the things she alluded to with her friends- how big he was, how fulfilled he made her. She could feel every thick inch of him inside her, his heavy balls pressing against the plush of her ass. A soft whimper escaped her lips as she adjusted to his size, her walls clenching around him in a desperate attempt to keep him inside. "S’so good.”

He began to move, slow and deep at first, savoring the exquisite drag of her silken walls. "That's it, baby... take it. Take every inch of me." He whispered, his hips rolling in a hypnotic rhythm. One hand slid down to rub tight circles over her clit as he fucked into her. "Gonna fill this sweet cunt. Pump you full of me."

His cock stretched her, a dull, delicious ache as he drove into her again and again, the wet sounds of the thrusts filling the room. He angled his hips, searching for that perfect spot inside her. He always did. He loved to make her go crazy, see her buck and cry out when he got it. They fit together so well, sometimes it was hard to believe they’d found each other naturally. When did find it he heard it, music to his fucking ears. The borderline frantic cry as she grabbed his arms where they held her hips, her back arching off the bed. "Yes, there! Just like that." Her nails dug into his forearms as he hit her spot dead on with each thrust.

His balls slapped against her ass with each deep stroke, the sound echoing through the room. “Yeah, I found my spot. Didn’t I?” He crooned, smirk on his face as he kept it up. If there was anything he allowed himself to be smug about, it was how good he made his woman feel. “S’good, I know. Hitting right where my girl needs. God, you’re fuckin’ perfect. Dressing up for me…” He grit his teeth. “Tellin’ me I can finally give you a baby. You love me, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I do. Shit, Harry.” She cried out, her voice high-pitched as her inner walls tightened around his thick shaft. She could barely think, let alone speak, with him filling her so perfectly. “Y-Yes, I love you so much- Please, please, please, please!” She chanted, her hands fisting the sheets beneath her as he continued to fuck into her sopping cunt. “Please what, baby?” He taunted, looking down at her beautiful form. It was the prettiest picture only he got to see. “What d’you want?”

“I-I want you to-” She gasped as he hit her spot again, her toes curling in ecstasy. “I want you to knock me up, H. Please knock me up, get me pregnant like y’wanted. I don’t care, just wanna feel you inside me, I want my tummy to grow, I want all of it.” She pleaded, tugging him down to her as she felt her eyes water, looking up at him. “Please, baby- please, please.”

His face contorted as he looked down at her, love and possession shining in his eyes. "You're really going t’let me breed you like that, huh? All for me?" He grit out with clenched teeth, his hips snapping forward as his hands gathered her, wrapping around her wrists and pinning them above her head. "Y’want to carry my baby, grow round with it inside you?"

"Yes, yes, yes." She chanted with a lovedrunk smile on her face, her back arching as he took her harder. The new angle had him hitting impossibly deep. "Please Harry, I need it. Need you to fill me up, make me yours. I want everyone to know I'm your girl, carrying your baby." Her voice broke, overwhelmed with pleasure. "Fuck, I'm getting close."

"That's it, cum on my cock like a good girl." He growled, feeling her tighten around him like a vice. "Milk me, I'm gonna pump you full. Gonna flood this fertile little cunt with my cum." His balls drew up tight as he pounded into her relentlessly, the wet squelch of her arousal obscene in the room. "Fuck, m’close too. You want it baby?"

Y/N could barely speak as her orgasm took her faster than she had anticipated. It was his voice, his promise that took her there. The sensation was indescribable. Like being consumed, each hard thrust sending wave after wave of intense heat through her veins. She could feel every ridge and vein of his thick, pulsing length as it slid in and out of her slick hole. Her whole body was alight, every nerve ending on fire as he stretched her to the limit. The pressure built and built, her muscles tensing as the first waves of her release washed over her.

"Please, please... I want to feel you, inside me, filling me up. I want your baby, Harry. I want you to breed me." Her words were barely coherent, her mind fogged with desire as he continued to thrust into her, his powerful hips driving his thick cock home again and again. She could feel the heat of his body, the tautness of his muscles as he held back, intent on pouring into her just as she'd begged. “Wanna be the only one.”

“Shit.” He whined weakly, losing all resolve to hold on. Hearing her beg for it was the final straw on his composure. This was a day he had dreamed of, and she had so willingly handed it over to him. It was his turn to give it to her, just as he promised. “I’ll give it to you baby. Give you everything- only t’you. Fuck.” With a feral groan, he lost all control, slamming into her one final time as he erupted inside her. His hot, thick cum flooded her, painting her insides as he filled her to the brim. She could feel it pouring in, the warmth spreading through her belly as he continued to pump her full, his cock jerking and twitching inside her. “Take all of it.”

Her mouth parted on a silent 'O' as she felt him surge inside her, his warmth spreading through her. Her eyes fluttered closed as he released her hands, and her fingers immediately digging on his back as she found a way to cling to him, her legs wrapping around his waist to hold him closer. She didn’t want him to leave, wanted him to stay buried.

"That's it, baby... take it all." He encouraged softly, nuzzling her neck as he slowly thrust in and out, relishing in the feeling as he pulsed inside of her.

She moaned softly, her head tossing on the pillow. "It feels so warm, so good... S’so much inside of me. I love you so much." She whispered, a fucked out smile painting her lips. "I hope it takes."

Pulling out slowly, his cock glistened with them combined as he held her open, his load leaking out of her. The scene was absolutely filthy and everything he had hoped to see when they tried this. "Look at you... so full of my cum. So fucking perfect." He gently held her thigh open with one hand, his fingers on the other spreading her open to show off his work. "Look at how full you are, baby."

She whimpered, her eyes fluttering open as he displayed her to him. "Harry... It's so much. I can feel it dripping out of me. Don’t waste it." She whispered, her voice tiredly giddy. "We should try for round two... just to be sure, right?"

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 2

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel’s shadows liked to spoil his mate rotten.

Not that Azriel could find anything wrong with that.

She deserved more for putting up with him. 

More than new tea from the Dawn Court and her favourite chocolate covered, wafer thin cookies from a small bakery near the Sidra…more than the occasional embroidery thread they snuck her…More than whatever animal he went to go hunt, to cover his bed in even more furs just for her. 

He nearly had enough Sable furs to have a blanket made for her for Winter Solstice…

Azriel also had half a mind to go sneak in her office later that day. 

Just as a treat for not killing either of his brothers. For being civil. 

Rhys had come over for sparring, unnannounced. 

Azriel had hoped to have some peace and quiet today, but it seemed like Rhys had other plans. 

Currently Cassian and Rhys were wrestling with less sense than they had had when they were just kids, and Azriel was cleaning his weapons, watching from the sidelines.

Azriel couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of his brothers roughhousing. It was typical of them to turn a simple sparring session into some kind of ridiculous competition. He focused on sharpening his knives, trying to ignore their antics.

"You know, we could also actually train properly," he called out, his tone dry. "Instead of wrestling like a bunch of children."

Cassian looked up from his grappling with Rhys, grinning. "Oh, come on Az. Don't be such a stick in the mud. Loosen up, have a little fun for once."

Azriel's expression remained impassive. "I'm perfectly capable of having fun, Cassian. But I prefer to do so without rolling around in the dirt like a wild animal."

Rhysand chuckled, standing up and clapping Cassian on the back. "It's good to let loose every now and then, Az. You should try it sometime. It might make your brooding sessions a little less depressing."

Azriel just grunted in response, not willing to engage in a verbal sparring match with Rhys. He continued to clean his weapons, hoping that the training session would end soon so he could escape his brothers' teasing.

“When did you even come home yesterday?” Cassian asked him.

Azriel looked up from his work, his expression neutral. "Around 11," he said simply.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Rhys pointed out. “You were missed.”

He highly doubted that.

And maybe he had made that mission in Dawn just a little while longer, so that he knew that dinner would be over and when he came home, he wouldn’t need to be alone.

Azriel just shrugged. "I was busy," he said, offering no further explanation. He knew his brothers were just trying to rile him up, and he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

*Are you still pissed of at me?* Rhys asked him mentally with a sigh. *I get it. But you don’t need to avoid everybody else, just because…*

*I’m not avoiding anyone,* Azriel replied, his mental voice tight. *I’m simply choosing to spend my time how I see fit.*

“I was busy,” he repeated aloud.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "You're always busy, Az. You know, there's such thing as taking a break once in a while. Spending time with your family."

Or he could spent time with his mate. He could spent time with his mate, who let him brush her hair and even braid it …who pressed kisses to his horrible scarred hands and smiled at him. 

If it was a choice between Irena or a family dinner where he didn’t want to stay longer than an hour or two, because he was still too fucking pissed off at Rhys…the choice was easy. 

“Or is there a special somebody?” Cassian teased him.

Azriel glowered at him. "It’s none of your business." He went back to working on his weapons, his expression tense.

*You can’t keep panting after Elain for the rest of your life,* Rhys said mentally. *Look, I know I didn’t…I am sorry. But she’s happy with Lucien and…*

*Don’t worry, I’ll go to a pleasure hall and pay for it if I want to fuck somebody,* Azriel shot back viciously.

Or his own hand would suffice. More than suffice, especially if…especially if Irena had let him kiss her the evening before…sometimes he waited until she disappeared into her room, and he buried his face in the pillows that smelled like her, fisted his cock and rutted like an untried boy for seconds before he came all over himself. 

It was still better than any other sex he ever had had before.

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. "It sounds like you need to get laid," he said, chuckling. "Maybe that'll help with your bad mood."

Azriel shot him a glare. "Mind your own business, Cassian. My love life is none of your concern."

Rhysand gave him a sympathetic look. *We just want you to be happy, Az. You deserve happiness.*

“Ohhh, touchy,” Cassian said with a snort.

Azriel just gritted his teeth, his temper rising. "Cassian, if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I swear to the Mother, I’ll shut it for you."

Cassian just grinned at him. "Come on, Az. I’m just teasing you. Lighten up."

Azriel's grip on his weapons tightened. "I don't like your teasing, Cassian. And I certainly don't appreciate you making assumptions about my personal life.”

Mostly he just wanted his brothers to leave him the hell alone.

And then...then before he could say another thing...he felt the shaking.

And then the sound came. An eardrum shattering explosion, the very foundation of the House of Wind shaking. It was terrifying him.

Irena was down there in her office. Nesta was in there. 

He was moving before he was even thinking. 

*Merrill's office, Master!* the shadows screeched.

Azriel was already running.

Cassian hot on his heels, so was Rhys.

Azriel was faster, heaving shadows around his limbs as he rocketed down the spiral stairs of the House of Wind.

Level Two, Straight to the right. Clearly...Clearly the epicenter of the blast. Of the explosion…of whatever had happened.

He pushed as hard as he could, legs burning as he hurtled down the hallway to Merrill's office.

He wasn't the only one. "Merrill!" He could hear Gwyn's shrill voice screaming, coming to a stop in a hallway of what had once been Merrill's office but now was just...

It was a mass of wood and rubble.

He barely slowed down, scrambling into action. Gwyn was already digging through it, so where Nesta and Emerie. Cassian landed behind him, immediately moving some of the debris.

His shadows swarmed as he and the others quickly dug at the rubble. Looking, desperately looking.

He moved another piece of rubble out of the way...a piece of blue cloths. The same blue cloth that he knew covered Irena's body, the scent of poppies clinging to her...Without a thought, he grasped and then dragged, a hoarse shout that was her, that was her...

He felt as if he were choking, as if he were drowning as he dragged out her body. Bloody, bruised, broken but still...still there was a faint flicker, a faint, thready heartbeat.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he tried to pick up on her heart. There was barely a flicker. Too fast, too faint, she was barely holding on. Barely hanging by a thread.

There was blood pooling on her abdomen, dying the blue dress she wore bright scarlet red, He put pressure on that wound immediately, leaning on her with nearly all his weight, his fingers slick with blood. "Damn it, stay with me, love," he demanded sharply.

Azriel felt like he could barely breath. Like he was falling, tumbling down as he tried to will her to stay with him. Stay. Stay. Stay. Please stay. Stay...

Rhys was there suddenly, checking her pulse. "Breathing is erratic. She's in shock," he told Azriel with a grimace. "Mor is getting Madja..."

"Az..." her voice was so weak, but he turned to see dark brown eyes watching him, brows furrowing.

"Just keep breathing, Love," he told her, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

He could barely hear what was going on around him. It was as if he were in a bubble, a world of just himself and her and the desperate beat of her heart under his fingers.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"There is nothing you need to apologise for her, Irena," he promised her sharply. "Absolutely nothing."

Irena's eyes drifted shut. Azriel felt like something was dying inside him as her heartbeat fluttered against his fingertips. His world was collapsing, shattering into pieces as her breath stuttered.

"Stay. Just stay..." he was barely aware of what he was saying, his eyes frantically searching hers. She had to stay. He would do anything to keep her here. Anything.

"I am still owing you that flight," he told her. She hadn't let him take her flying yet. They had snuck away in the library...in the rooftop garden...in her office. But he had never gotten to take her flying. He had never gotten to take her out into Velaris. They had never had a date at a fancy restaurant, had never gone to see the symphony. There were thousands of things that he hadn't yet gotten to do with his mate, because they had all the time in the world.

Irena just stared at him, her eyes pleading, as her heartbeat slowed, fluttering weaker and weaker. Azriel felt a sharp pain in his chest as fear clawed at his spine. "Just hold on a little longer, love," he whispered. "Please."

And then there Madja. Thank the cauldron. There she was.

Azriel could barely manage to let go of her, his mind consumed with the singular thought of Irena's laboured, erratic heartbeat as he moved back. Madja immediately set to work.

He lunged for her head, lunged to pull it on his lap, to touch her with blood slick fingertips, her normally rosy red lips pale, her skin even whiter than usual.

"Hurts," she whispered, as Madja set to work, barking orders.

"I know, I know, love," he whispered, touching her cheek with his fingertips as Madja got to work.

His eyes searched hers as he murmured those words over and over, as if he could somehow hold her in this world through sheer force of will alone.

"We haven't had enough time," he whispered desperately, leaning his forehead against hers.

She was slipping away. He could feel it. Feel her slipping, feel her heartbeat slow. Feel the thread that tethered her to this world fray, fray, fray...

No. He couldn't lose her. Would not let her leave him. He had waited far too long for her. Far, far too long to let her slip through his fingers.

"Stay with me," he pleaded. "Please stay with me."

But her eyes were slipping shut, her head lolling to the side. He gently patted her cheek, trying to urge her back to consciousness, but he didn't think he was even really aware of what he was doing, where he was. The world had boiled down to a desperate litany, in his head. Stay...stay...please...don't you dare...

“I am going to be so furious with you if you die. We may have our first fight,” he told her fiercely.

He needed her to know that he would be there to be furious with her if she dared to die, that she couldn't die. Couldn't. That she had to stay. Had to keep fighting. There were too many things ahead of them...a wedding to plan, children to have, years and years of life to live.

“Az,” she breathed his name, her eyes not even open anymore.

“Open your eyes, Irena,” he demanded. “Look at me, love,”

Her eyes finally fluttered open at his command. It was barely more than a slither of brown, but he latched onto it, taking it for what it was. A chance. A moment to get through to her.

He wasn't sure what he was saying, but the words spilled forth from him, a litany, a desperate prayer. "Please," he breathed, "don't go...don't you dare..."

He was dimly aware that the others had gathered, but he didn't dare look away. Didn't dare look away from her as he cradled her head, trying to pour all of his prayers into those words. All of his hope and desperation.

"You can't go." A statement. An order. An absolute certainty in his voice. "I will not let you go."

He wouldn't. Would never, ever let her go. Would drag her back from the Cauldron's grasp with bloodied and broken hands if thats what had to be.

She didn't speak. Didn't need to. He could read her answer in her eyes, the determination in those brown eyes as she tried so, so hard to stay.

It was as if she were holding on for him, because he had asked her to. Because it was him there with her. Like she would fight until her last breath because he told her too. He didn't deserve this beautiful creature, who was willing to fight for him, willing to live for him.

It was something primal, something desperate, something fierce as he whispered those words over and over, like a prayer. "Fight. Fight. Fight."

And she listened. She did. He could feel her hold on, just barely grasp hold of that tether that kept her in this world. Just barely keep her eyes open.

Just look at him.

And she did, those dark eyes unfocused but open, staring up at him, watching him. Trying so, so hard. It nearly made his heart stop in the most terrible way that she was struggling for him.

And he was so proud of her. Of the way she was fighting like she was. Of the way she was grasping, hanging on to life like she was.

The seconds stretched too thin, feeling like eternities and only the slightest of moments. But her eyes were open, if only barely. She hadn't given up. Hadn't let go.

He was dimly aware of the others, Gwyn hovering with a worried expression, Madja murmuring quiet instructions to the others, Rhys kneeling not far away. But he barely glanced at them, barely dared to take his eyes off Irena.

He was certain that if he looked away, if he let this tenuous thread sever, that she would die. That as long as he kept her here, she wouldn't slip, wouldn't let go.

He had one hand on her cheek, her skin still clammy and pale, as her eyes slipped open and shut. But everytime, they would find his face. His eyes, like he was the only thing tethering her to the world. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her barely holding on, only that last sliver of determination keeping her here.

"Please," he pleaded, whispering those words like a prayer, like he would be praying to a vengeful god. Those moments felt like eternities, stretching on and on with only his desperate whispers. "Please..."

The world felt so still, so silent as if the world was holding its breath. Azriel's eyes locked on Irena, silently begging her, asking her to please, please...

Live, live live... he whispered those words over and over, a desperate plea to the Mother, the Cauldron, to anyone who would listen. To Irena, the only person in the entire world who truly mattered in that moment.

Her eyes were growing glassy, slipping closed only to jerk open again. Stay he demanded. Keep looking at me. Please.

She tried. Mother, she tried. Her eyes drifted to him, the smallest hint of life, of a spark there in those dark brown eyes.

He hardly dared to breathe, hardly dared to move. Afraid that any wrong move could tip her over the edge, could pull her into that chasm of non-existence that she was desperately clinging too.

He felt something pricking at his eyes, felt something in his chest cracking, breaking at the sheer intensity of emotions thrumming through him. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her like this, so pale, barely holding on, barely conscious...

“Alright,” Madja said quietly. “Good girl. You were so very brave.”

"Will...will she be alright?" He asked, voice hoarse.

He didn't let his eyes drift from Irena's face, her half lidded eyes staring at him. It filled him with such an intense pang of relief and fear at the same time. Relief, because she was alive...and fear, because they had been so close to losing her.

"She's not out of the woods yet," Madja warned. "But she'll make it. She lost a lot of blood. It will take some time to get her vitals stable again."

He felt like he could breathe for the first time. It was almost dizzying, the sheer, intense relief that flooded through him. Irena was here. Irena would live. It filled his veins with an almost drug like euphoria, that made him light headed, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

He barely managed to keep that feeling in, the pure euphoria from showing as he smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes finally dragging away from Irena's face to look at Madja. "Just...thank you."

He looked back at Irena, taking in her face. Alive. Still alive. Still here with him, not gone. The tension seeped from his shoulders, a strange sort of exhaustion taking over. As if all the adrenaline that had fueled him, the fear, was slowly draining out of him like water.

“Merrill,” Irena whispered, her voice near silent.

Azriel felt his fingers brush her cheek, just the gentlest touch as he tried to keep it together. It had been too close. Too, too close. He couldn't stop the overwhelming feelings flowing through him of elation and fear as he looked down at her as he looked down at her, alive. Alive and breathing and whispering soft words. "Shhh," he whispered softly. "Save your strength. Don't strain yourself."

He looked up finding Cassians gaze who just shook his head. Merrill was dead.

Azriel couldn't quite process that information, not in that moment. His eyes were still drawn to Irena, still unable to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. His fingers brushed her cheek again, just the faintest touch as he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. "Rest," he instructed softly. "I'll be right there.” He promised.

“Being here to her room,” Madja said quietly.

“My room,” he corrected.

The priestesses dormitory was locked from males. If he even tried to get in there it would’ve end well for him. And he wouldn’t leave her side.

“Your room?” Gwyn asked sharply.

“Gwyn,” Rhys said quietly.Azriel didn't even acknowledge Gwyn's words, didn't have the energy. All he could focus on was the way Irena's eyes had drifted shut, the steady rise and fall of her chest. She would be alright. She was going to be alright. She was alive. Right now, in that moment, thats all that mattered.

“Az, how long have the two of you…” Cassian asked hesitantly.

Azriel just shrugged, his hand resting on Irena's hair, smoothing back from her face. “Two years. She’s my mate,” he said flatly as he gathered her up. 

“Mate,” she rasped. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he agreed softly.

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part8

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: slut shaming(?)

previous - next

Could you really call yourself an adult now?

I mean, honestly, is there some magical age that makes you a certified grown-up?

If it’s all about age, then nope—you weren’t an adult. Maybe a “young adult” at best, but even then, the life you were living? Let’s just say it was… a bit different.

When everything started happening so quickly, keeping up felt impossible. And let’s face it, that was normal. If you managed to juggle everything with calm composure, you’d probably qualify as Wonder Woman. Life came with its ups and downs, but throw pregnancy symptoms into the mix, and things got extra tricky.

You liked to share what you wanted with others. Talking about your plans openly was just how you were. It wasn’t about bragging; you just enjoyed sharing your happiness. But every single time—without fail—whatever you talked about? It never happened.

That Venice trip you’d been set on for the summer? Canceled.

The dream university? Rejected. That car you were this close to buying? Nope, didn’t happen.

It was like clockwork. Every time.

And the thing was, you never learned. Not really. You’d repeat the same mistake again and again. Life’s law, right? Someday you’d figure it out… though that day clearly wasn’t anytime soon.

Pregnancy, though, wasn’t exactly something you could go shouting about to everyone. That was off the table. But moving?

If you weren’t pregnant, there’s no way you’d have kept quiet. You’d have made sure the entire island knew. And naturally, that would’ve meant it wouldn’t happen.

This time, though, you zipped it. The only person who knew was JJ—and, well, he didn’t really count. Or, okay, maybe he did. Of course, he was important, but not the kind of person to stand in your way. On the contrary, he had your back. He even offered to help you with the whole moving process.

Things happened so fast, you could hardly believe it.

Your dad came home from his work trip, you visited the mainland, met with a realtor friend of his, checked out potential homes—it was like someone had hit the fast-forward button.

You couldn’t decide on anything. You were even okay with a cute little apartment. The list of occupants was simple: you and your daughter. You didn’t need much more.

Your mom, however, had her opinions. She didn’t want a mansion either, but she was firm about the house having enough rooms. One for you, one for your daughter, and a guest room—because naturally, grandma duties. And a yard, because she wanted to watch her grandchild play outside.

So apartments were out. Houses it was. After seeing what felt like a million empty ones, you were ready to scream.

But finally, you found it. The perfect house. The yard alone sold it. You could already picture the memories you’d make there with your daughter. Maybe a swing or a hammock… some comfy furniture on the porch.

You never imagined you’d get so close to your dream so quickly.

It had the three rooms your mom insisted on, was two stories, and honestly, it was beautiful. You loved it. But the idea of living there alone was terrifying.

Still, the deal was sealed.

It didn’t take long—two weeks, tops. When your mom insisted on hiring an interior designer, you didn’t argue much. Secretly, you liked the idea. And once your belongings were packed, it was all done.

All that was left was you.

There weren’t many people to say goodbye to on the island, which was, honestly, fine. Who were you supposed to bid farewell to? Rafe? His family, who didn’t even know you were pregnant? Your friends, who’d probably broadcast the news to the world? No thanks.

Except for JJ.

You’d have been a total ass not to acknowledge his help. Even if his support wasn’t entirely physical, his presence had been a huge emotional lift.

So saying goodbye wasn’t hard.

Ignoring the support he’d given you would’ve been dumb. When you decided to give him a nice surfboard as a thank-you gift, you didn’t overthink it. You just thought about who JJ was—someone who loved the ocean and surfing. Beyond that? You didn’t know much. So you kept it simple. Spoiler alert: he liked it.

You hesitated, thinking a gift might make things unnecessarily sentimental, but he deserved it. Nobody else in his position would’ve treated you as kindly. Even Kooks barely treated each other well. Expecting a Pogue to go out of their way for you? Yeah, no.

But JJ had.

You weren’t super close, but during one of your conversations, he’d mentioned how much he liked the rare nights when his shift ended early. He worked at a pub. In your head, you’d given him two weeks before he got fired—or kicked out after starting a fight. You were that sure of it.

A week ago, knowing the end of his evening shift, you parked near the pub, sitting on your car hood to wait for him. The plan? Give him the surfboard. Maybe even give him a ride home if he needed one.

Fifteen minutes passed. He hadn’t come out.

You started questioning everything—maybe you’d gotten the wrong day? Or maybe you’d messed up the time?

Waiting around for nothing felt miserable. You should’ve paid better attention when he’d been talking about his schedule.

Not that the gift had been planned or anything. The idea had hit you on a whim. You just wanted to do something before you left. After all, there weren’t many people to say goodbye to. And texting JJ a quick see ya felt way too impersonal.

“What are you doing here?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, your eyes shooting up from your phone. JJ stood a few steps away, mid-turn before he stopped and faced you fully. His eyes scanned the car before landing on you.

Quickly, you shoved your phone into your pocket. “Making sure you didn’t pick another fight.” Sliding off the hood, you smirked.

JJ rolled his eyes, flashing you a sarcastic smile. “Ha-ha. How funny.”

Unlike him, your grin was genuine. Why should he have all the fun pissing people off? It was your turn.

Unlike him, your lips curled into a genuine smile. Was it always going to be him getting under your skin for his own amusement? No, this time, it was your turn.

You heard him say your name, his tone serious. “No, really. What are you doing here?”

Keeping surprises wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you couldn’t resist messing with him a little. After all, this was the first time in days you’d left the house—and only in your baggiest clothes. Might as well enjoy it.

“Just hanging out.”

He frowned, his eyes scanning the area before gesturing around. “Here? Outside the pub?”

The confusion on his face was nearly comical—borderline annoyed, maybe?

You mirrored his glance at the surroundings, raising your eyebrows. It wasn’t much to look at. Just… a place. “What’s wrong with here?”

JJ let out a frustrated sigh, and for a moment, you couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to annoy him. He genuinely looked upset. “Are you serious right now? You—” He stopped himself, clenching his jaw as he stepped closer. Lowering his voice, he added, “You can’t drink. You’re not even supposed to be hanging around.”

So, he thought you’d come here to drink? That’s why he was so worked up?

It was kind of… cute. But poking the bear was way more fun.

You let out a dramatic hum as you crossed your arms. “Not allowed? Says who?” You tried not to laugh at the look he shot you, a mix of exasperation and disbelief, like you’d lost your mind.

“Me. You’re not drinking. Not here, not anywhere. Have you lost it?”

Your lips pulled into a grin, and despite his attempt to scold you, his irritation only made it funnier. Especially since you hadn’t even done what he was accusing you of.

The second JJ caught onto what you were doing, his annoyed expression melted away. As your laughter echoed, he pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah. Hilarious. Now, can you just tell me what you’re actually doing here?”

You clutched your stomach, your laughter dying down into a lingering smile. Sure, he wasn’t amused, but you were, and that’s all that mattered.

“I’ve got something for you.”

JJ’s eyebrows shot up. He straightened, intrigued. “Yeah?”

You stepped away from the car’s front, glancing back to see him still rooted in place. You gave him a quick head nod to follow. With a sigh, he finally moved. “If this is a gun for self-defense, just so you know, I’m not really clear on the rules here,” he joked with a wink.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Please. If I gave you a gun, you’d be arrested in, like, two seconds.”

He laughed, but you could tell he was curious now. Opening the back door, you reached inside. “It’s a thank-you gift. Kind of.”The surprise on his face was priceless. He clearly wasn’t expecting this. Honestly, neither were you until the idea struck.

JJ tilted his head, his expression skeptical. “Thank you? For what? For telling you not to pick fights?”

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t be serious. “No, JJ. For helping me out.”

He smiled, but it was that classic, goofy grin of his. Any trace of his earlier irritation had completely vanished. He didn’t even glance into the car. “Oh, I get it. Like a ‘without JJ, my life would’ve fallen apart’ kind of thank you? Go on, feed my ego. I live for this.”

For a split second, you considered slamming the door and driving off. Instead, you laughed. Sure, there was some truth to what he said, but no way were you letting him win.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door wider and stepped back. “Nope. It’s just a small gesture. Don’t read too much into it.”

JJ walked over and held the door open, his eyes going wide when he spotted the surfboard wedged into the backseat. His fingers ran over the smooth edges and the blue-and-white design. “You got this for me?” he asked, his voice softer now as he inspected it.

You couldn’t suppress your grin. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s kind of random, but I figured you could use your own board for a change. For everything you’ve done—” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “It meant a lot.”

JJ’s smile was different this time. It wasn’t cocky or teasing. It was genuine. “If I don’t take this, I feel like you’d be really annoying about it,” he muttered, pulling the board from the car.

“Absolutely. You wouldn’t want to hear me talk about how I poured my heart into its design,” you teased.

He froze, eyes narrowing. “Wait—you designed it?”

You smirked, holding his gaze. “No. But it’s nice that you believed it for a second.”

JJ laughed, shaking his head as he leaned the board against the car. For once, he wasn’t mocking or making jokes. Instead, he looked at you with something softer, something you couldn’t quite place. “This is… perfect. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.”

He hesitated, glancing at the board before meeting your eyes again. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

And that was it, wasn’t it? That’s how it felt. Deep down, you’d even envied the way he was with his friends. He didn’t know you. In fact, he hated your group. But if he treated you like this—who knew how he treated his friends?

You weren’t used to people doing things for you without expecting something in return. Sure, you had a hunch JJ liked money. Not just you—everyone on the island knew that. But still, the way he talked to you, made time for you… it mattered. It broke the prejudice you had against him.

It wasn’t anything grand. He didn’t buy you houses or cars. He didn’t shower you with jewelry. But he talked to you like no one else did. He made you feel—like you were someone. Like someone whose decisions shouldn’t be dictated by anyone else’s words.

And that? That was worth more than jewelry. More than anything money could buy. It was something most people—Rafe included—didn’t have.

From the moment he heard, he didn’t tell anyone. What friend would do that? Ruthie? Sophie? Who?

JJ did.

And he wasn’t even your friend.

That’s why it mattered. He was just being himself, and you needed that.

“It felt like that.” JJ was holding the surfboard, his eyes catching yours. A strange silence fell between you. Neither of you had expected such a gesture—not just surfing, but the support he’d given you.

You hadn’t expected his support; that was his gesture to you. And he hadn’t expected a surfboard from you; that was your gesture to him.

JJ lifted the board to examine it, the usual smirk still on his face. He was clearly trying to ease the tension hanging between you. “So, I have my own board now, huh? I don’t have to give this one back, do I? Because when it comes to stuff like that, you’re pretty stubborn.”

“No, it’s yours,” you said, smiling. You were grateful for his teasing—it cut through the awkwardness. You could’ve stayed silent for hours. “But if I catch you getting into another fight, I’ll beat you with that board.”

JJ laughed, shaking his head. His gaze flicked between the board and you. He was ridiculously excited about the surfboard but trying hard not to show it. “Fair deal. But just so we’re clear, every cool move I pull off with this board? I’m crediting you. ‘Thanks to Princess for this wave,’ that kind of thing. You’re my sponsor now.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny his antics made you laugh. He was fun to be around. You were glad the whole “status” nonsense between you two seemed to be fading. It wasn’t just you—he had his own assumptions about you too. But it felt like you’d both moved past that. “Okay. Sponsorship’s over. Go find your wave.”

JJ carefully propped the board against the wall, his expression softening. “Jokes aside, thanks. I mean it. This means a lot. Just don’t tell anyone I said that—gotta protect my image.” He smiled, dimples showing as he ran a hand through his hair.

You smiled back, nodding quickly. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe.”

As you both grinned, JJ’s eyes flicked from you to the surfboard. Following his gaze, your eyes drifted to his hands, gently tracing the board like it was fragile.

“I’m leaving the island tomorrow.” The words tumbled out, and you saw his hands freeze. His gaze landed on you, but you kept your focus on the board, pretending to admire its design. It really was a beautiful surfboard. “So—I wanted to say thank you.”

His blue eyes pierced through you as if that was even possible. JJ didn’t say anything to make the moment heavier, just nodded. For several seconds, neither of you spoke. Realizing the air had gotten heavier, you shifted your tone to something more casual. “I could drive you home if you want.”

You weren’t the kind of person to offer, but making him carry a surfboard all the way home felt cruel.

JJ opened his mouth to respond, but a car horn blared from down the street. Both of you turned toward the sound. Outside the car, John B and Kiara were leaning against it, with Pope, Cleo, and Sarah visible through the windows. Pope waved at JJ from where he hung halfway out of the window.

When Sarah’s eyes met yours, you instinctively tugged at your shirt. There wasn’t anything visible, but still—you felt uneasy. “Wow,” you said, feigning amusement. “Your entourage is here.”

JJ hesitated, looking momentarily torn. Finally, he sighed, a guilty smile creeping onto his face. His gaze dropped to your hand still fidgeting with your shirt. For a split second, it seemed like he wanted to grab your hand, to stop you.

“Nothing’s showing,” he said, his eyes lingering on your waist. You knew that, but the idea of anyone finding out still terrified you. Especially someone from Rafe’s family. He didn’t want them to know, and neither did you. That’s why you felt the need to be extra cautious around Sarah and Wheezie.

“I know. It’s just—” You stopped, shutting your eyes briefly before opening them again. It was paranoia, but understandable. “Relax. No one knows, I swear.” His hand almost reached out to your arm, but he stopped, remembering his friends were watching from the car.

“Go,” you said, shrugging. You composed yourself. “Looks like you’ve got a ride after all.” You smiled.

JJ paused for a beat, then flashed a crooked smile. He hated the awkwardness lingering between you. “If this board isn’t as good as you said, you’re getting an earful. I’ll call you.” He walked backward, teasing. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words.

As you walked toward your front door, you noticed his movements slow. He stopped, turned, and looked back at you. It was like he’d remembered something he’d forgotten to do. Placing the surfboard down gently, his eyes briefly darted away from yours.

Then he walked up to you and stopped right in front of you. After a brief, silent pause, you felt his arms wrap around you. Was he… hugging you? Seriously? The gesture caught both of you off guard. You’d never imagined this kind of closeness. But then again, you hadn’t imagined buying him a surfboard either. So, it didn’t feel wrong. If buying him a gift made you feel this close, then it wasn’t strange that he’d feel close enough to hug you.

You returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him. His grip was firm, and the scent of salt and ocean filled your senses. How did he always smell so much like the sea?

The hug was short, but both of you felt the strangeness of it. Once again—you felt like you’d crossed a line. Broken some unspoken rule.

JJ shrugged as he pulled back. “Yeah, that’s it. See you, uh… whatever.”

You took a deep breath, watching him stand there. You hated goodbyes. You were going to miss this island, and now—

“Yeah… goodbye.” You pushed your hair behind your shoulders, trying to steady your voice. You didn’t understand why you felt like you were losing a friend. Like you were going to… miss him?

Stop. Don’t even think about it.

JJ nodded, picking up the surfboard as he walked toward the car. You watched him for a moment before turning to the front door and stepping into your car. Through the windshield, you caught a glimpse of Kiara muttering something to Sarah. Whatever she was saying, you couldn’t hear.

When JJ got into the car, he paused, lowering his head for a brief moment before looking outside again.

He mouthed something to the group. Not to you, but to the friends in the car. “Just shut up.”

When he gave you a quick nod, you returned it before starting your car. Watching them drive off, you felt a strange mix of relief and melancholy. You’d thanked JJ, and that was all you wanted. It was done.

Except for the quiet ache of losing a friend.

You’d left only a few clothes back at the house on the island. The furniture and everything else stayed in your room. Your parents insisted the room remain untouched—they wanted you to know there was still a home for you there. They even promised not to change a thing.

The first few months were bound to be hard; you knew that. Living alone was going to take some getting used to. But you hoped it’d all be worth it when you finally held your baby.

Now, you were sitting on the couch in your new place, sipping a green smoothie. You’d have given anything for a coffee, but pregnancy meant sacrifices. A little caffeine might not hurt, but you didn’t want to risk it. The smoothie was healthy, though it tasted awful.

It had only been six days since the move. You’d allowed yourself time to explore the area, taking walks around the quiet streets. Your parents had offered to stay with you for a few days, but you politely declined. You wanted to settle in on your own. Leaning on their warmth and presence only to have it ripped away later would have made the loneliness worse. You couldn’t let that happen.

Morning sickness had eased enough for a few walks, so you’d wandered the calm streets near your house. Quiet, orderly, nothing like Outer Banks. You couldn’t help but compare the two. Everything here was different. The people, the lifestyle—it all felt so structured and tame. But a part of you missed the chaos of the island. The freedom. The absurdity of going to the store in a bikini without anyone batting an eye. That tight-knit community where everyone knew each other’s names.

You’d visited the local park a few times. It was rarely crowded, and you hadn’t met anyone yet. By the time you arrived, most of the adults and kids were just beginning to trickle in.

So, here you were: your own place. Did that make you an adult?

How did adults even make friends? Scratch that—how did anyone past a certain age make friends? As a kid, it was easy. Just ask someone to play with you, and that was it. Middle school? Same thing.

But now? You didn’t know a soul here. What were you supposed to do? Walk up to someone and introduce yourself?

Terrifying thought.

Still, maybe worth trying, right?

-

Socializing wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Your eyes scanned the park’s scenery. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and birds chirped in the branches above. A group of kids played in a sandbox, their laughter mingling with the faint sounds of distant traffic.

You clasped your hands over your stomach, exhaling deeply. “Maybe this is good for me,” you thought.

But the whole idea still felt horrifying. Sitting at home would’ve been worse, though. At least you were out, breathing fresh air.

Introducing yourself to someone, though? Out of the question. No anxiety attacks, but your chest tightened just thinking about it. No, you’d just sit and enjoy the park for a bit. That would be enough.

Your gaze dropped to the book in your lap: Healthy Nutrition and Development During Pregnancy. You fiddled with the corner of its cover. Would someone else find this funny? Carrying a guidebook instead of a novel wasn’t something even you would’ve expected a few months ago. But here you were, on the verge of a whole new chapter. Screw what anyone thought—you were preparing for your future.

Suddenly, the bench shifted slightly as someone sat down beside you. The movement snapped you out of your thoughts. You glanced up to find a middle-aged woman with an energetic demeanor. Her dyed-blond hair revealed a hint of gray at the roots, and a steaming coffee cup rested in her hands.

“Ugh, I hope I can finish this before it goes cold,” she muttered to herself before calling out to the playground. “Tati! No running, sweetheart!”

She waved toward the child before turning back to you with a wide smile.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” she chirped.

You gave her a polite smile, nodding. “It is,” you replied, subtly shifting your book closer to your lap. Her eyes flicked to the book in your hands, narrowing slightly as if trying to make out the title. “Is that a… guidebook?” she finally asked.

You tilted your head slightly. “Yes,” you said simply, hoping that’d be enough to end the conversation.

“A pregnancy guide?” she pressed, her curiosity accompanied by a cheerful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How sweet! Helping out a sister or expecting a niece?—Oh, where are my manners? I’m Viola.”

Her question caught you off guard. You hesitated briefly before giving your name. “Uh, no. It’s for me,” you said with a small smile.

Her expression shifted instantly. Her eyes widened, her grin turning stiff and awkward. “For you? Oh…”

You nodded, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. She had seemed friendly at first, but the subtle judgment on her face now was impossible to ignore.

“How far along?” she asked, as if the question was perfectly natural.

“Sixteen weeks,” you mumbled, pretending to smooth the book’s pages. The weight of her gaze made your skin crawl.

“Ah, so young,” she murmured, taking a long sip from her coffee. When she lowered the cup, her eyes lingered on you, as though dissecting every detail. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Twenty,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral but feeling the words land heavier than you intended. You watched her eyebrows knit together as she took a sharp breath.

“Twenty? You look barely old enough to drive!” she exclaimed, clearly not trying to be subtle. Then, almost conspiratorially, “But… you must be married, right?”

Your hands instinctively moved to rest on your stomach, but you hesitated to respond. The silence must have been answer enough because her eyes flicked from your belly back to your face.

“Oh,” she said knowingly, her smile tightening further. “So… is the father still in the picture?”

What was this, an interrogation?

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. Was it the tone of her voice? Or the audacity of her questions? Whatever it was, it stung. “That’s not something I need to discuss with you,” you said firmly, fighting to keep the frustration out of your voice.

Viola shrugged, but her scrutinizing look didn’t waver. “Fair enough. But raising a baby at your age, and without… well, you know. It’s going to be tough. Don’t you think this was a bit… impulsive?”

Her words hit like a cold wind. You tightened your grip on your stomach and tilted your head slightly. “That’s none of your business,” you said, your voice harder now.

Viola didn’t back down. “Yes, maybe you’re right. But people talk, sweetheart. And usually, they judge the ones they think made the wrong decisions…” She paused, pursing her lips. “Well, they judge.”

That was all you needed to hear. You tucked your book under your arm like you were putting it in a bag, got up, and said, “I think it’s time for me to leave,” your tone colder than even you expected.

Viola raised a hand as if trying to smooth things over. “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend,” she said, but the look in her eyes betrayed the opposite. “I’m just saying this for your own good.”

You could shove your “thoughts” up your ass.

Turning on your heel, you walked toward the park’s exit. The sound of her coffee cup being placed on the bench and her murmuring words echoed behind you. A fresh start sounded nice, you thought. But a new beginning wasn’t a guarantee of escaping old judgments.

There was no way you were going out to socialize again anytime soon. You hated that woman. With every fiber of your being. The way she judged you with that smug little brain of hers—it made your blood boil. You had no memory of how you even made it back home.

You made yourself some hot cocoa, hoping it would calm your nerves. Honestly, lying flat in the grass wouldn’t have been enough to shake off the anger at this point.

Even though you tried to distract yourself—knowing full well that stress wasn’t good for the baby—it wasn’t working. The incident replayed in your mind on a loop. You were certain you’d shiver every time you walked past that park again.

Who did she think she was, anyway? How could someone pass judgment on a stranger like that? The sheer audacity—it was baffling.

The sound of your phone notification pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. Glancing over, you reached for the phone resting on the couch.

You waited for a reply, but when nothing came, you set the phone down again. At least one of you was having a good day. Even though you felt like you were on the verge of exploding, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

The sudden ring of your phone startled you. You looked over, eyes narrowing slightly in surprise. JJ Maybank was calling you. Right now.

Pressing the phone to your ear, you grabbed the half-full cocoa mug from the table with your other hand. You weren’t going to drink it anymore. You were too annoyed to even think about washing it, but you figured you could at least move it somewhere out of sight. JJ’s voice came through the speaker, and despite everything, a small smile crept onto your face. For all his antics, he was a decent guy.

Heading toward the kitchen, you heard the cheerfulness in his voice as he began, “Used it this morning.” He was talking about the surfboard, excitement practically dripping from his words.

Frowning slightly, you placed the mug on the counter. This morning? Shouldn’t he have been at work? “This morning? Weren’t you supposed to be at work?”

There was a brief pause before JJ let out a muffled laugh. “Got fired,” he said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Honestly, with him, it kind of was. You couldn’t help but laugh a little.

You weren’t surprised—of course, you weren’t. With the phone still pressed to your ear, you wandered over to the window and glanced outside. “Figured,” you said, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

JJ didn’t miss a beat, his tone now teasingly accusatory. “Wait a second. Did you bet on me?”

Smiling, you shook your head even though he couldn’t see it, your attention momentarily caught by a cat wandering down the street. JJ cleared his throat, bringing you back. “No, but I wish I had,” you said.

His response came in the form of a dramatic groan. “That’s the meanest thing I’ve heard all week. You’re better than this.”

You turned around and walked toward the kitchen, your tone a little sharper now. “Get used to it.”

JJ responded immediately, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. “Never,” he shot back. Then, after a brief pause, his tone softened, but he added a teasing edge. “Pregnancy hormones have turned you into a completely different person. And it’s only been six days.”

The way he always knew how to push your buttons—and somehow make you smile instead of snap—was maddening. You found yourself tapping the corner of the table with your fingers, a habit you didn’t even notice until it happened. “I take pride in that,” you said, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

JJ came back stronger, more confident this time. “Hey, do you think it’s the hormones, or is it because you haven’t seen my handsome face for six whole days?” There was that familiar cocky tone, but you could tell he was trying to make you laugh. “I’d bet everything it’s because you haven’t seen my handsome face.”

“Even your surfboard?” you teased, your voice lifting just enough to show you were fully invested in the banter now. You moved toward the living room and dropped onto the couch, your gaze briefly flitting to the TV. But your attention was fully locked on JJ.

“Not a chance,” he replied instantly, almost defensive. “The board’s off-limits. Too precious.”

You chuckled, grabbing the nearby blanket and pulling it over your lap. “Then you’ve lost everything except the surfboard,” you said, shaking your head in mock disapproval. JJ’s laugh echoed through the phone, rich and warm, before he quipped, “You’ve been extra rude lately,” his voice carrying a mix of mock hurt and teasing amusement.

You didn’t just roll your eyes—you sank deeper into the couch, grabbing a pillow to prop yourself up. Of course, he’d called just to mess with you. Was he bored? Had he decided you were the best target for entertainment? “I’ve always been like this,” you replied with a shrug he couldn’t see.

“Nope,” JJ shot back instantly, his tone softer but still certain. A brief silence followed, filled only by the sound of your own breathing, before he spoke again. This time, his voice was a little more sincere. “So… how’s it going? Living alone and all?”

You didn’t hate that he asked. Actually, it felt nice to talk to someone. As an adult—or whatever weird in-between phase you were in—socializing wasn’t exactly easy. It hadn’t been easy on the island either, but at least that had been your choice. This wasn’t.

You took a deep breath, realizing the question was harder to answer than you’d expected. “It sucks,” you admitted finally, the honesty not surprising you in the slightest.

“Why?” JJ’s voice was softer now, laced with just enough concern to feel genuine but not suffocating. It was like he always knew how to navigate these moments without overstepping. And honestly, it was strange—good strange.

You tried to sort through the chaos in your head. “I don’t know,” you said with a faint sigh. “I haven’t really connected with anyone. I don’t know anyone here.”

JJ, ever the problem-solver in his own weird way, jumped in with his trademark ease. “Then make friends with the stray cats,” he said, that classic carefree tone of his bringing a smile to your face despite everything.

“I already have you,” you teased back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I couldn’t possibly betray you.”

His laugh from the other end of the line was contagious. “Not funny.” 

Fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, you hesitated before mumbling, “Are you okay? How are you?” Somehow, over the phone, it felt easier to ask—less intimidating than it would’ve been face-to-face.

“I’m amazing,” JJ said, his voice taking on a flat, almost robotic tone that screamed deflection.

“Your ego is exhausting,” you retorted, matching his sarcasm. Why couldn’t he just answer the question for once? Did everything have to be a game? “Seriously. How are you? After… you know, that day.”

JJ exhaled deeply, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost reluctant. “I don’t live with my dad anymore.”

You sat up straighter, grabbing the remote to lower the TV’s volume. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Packed up my stuff and left.”

It wasn’t exactly shocking. In fact, you were relieved he’d done it. Knowing he’d been living with someone who hurt him was unbearable. But still, you couldn’t stop your brow from furrowing. You couldn’t shake the worry. “Are you staying with John B?”

JJ’s silence was unexpected. You listened to the sound of his breathing, the faintest hitch before he finally answered. “Kind of?”

“What does that mean?” Your voice sharpened with concern. Why was he dancing around the answer when he could just tell you?

JJ sighed again, his tone shifting as though he’d stepped further away from the phone. “They don’t know I left yet. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

He hadn’t told his closest friends? Why? They weren’t the type to judge him. You didn’t know them well, but you were sure of that much. It didn’t make sense.

Even as your worry grew, you knew pressing him wasn’t the right move. “So where are you staying?” you asked cautiously.

JJ’s tone hardened. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” There it was—his three-year-old tantrum mode. Did he really think people didn’t have the right to worry about him? Idiot.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling your patience wearing thin. “As your friend, I’m allowed to be concerned about your safety, JJ. Just tell me where you’re staying.”

His tone shifted again, this time lighter, more teasing. “Friend, huh? That’s nice. Kook and Pogue forever.”

“Shut it,” you snapped, your irritation clear. All you wanted was to know he was safe. “Just tell me already.”

JJ paused, then let out a soft laugh—the kind you knew was covering up something deeper. Even a toddler could tell. “I stayed with them for a few days. Been figuring it out since.”

You frowned. That wasn’t a solution. “You need to tell them,” you said gently.

He responded with the same stubbornness you’d come to expect, but his tone hinted at a smirk. “This is my problem, princess.” Then, as if to shift the mood, he added, “This is the first time we’ve talked on the phone. Cute, right? Now, tell me about your day.”

Despite the worry gnawing at you, you relaxed just a little. He wouldn’t be joking around like this if things were terrible… right?

You hoped so cause—JJ is your friend.

[luveline]

hi again!! i saw you mention wanting to write for prince!steve, and i also saw that you write with dialogue prompts so i present to you:

A: “I’ll take care of you.”

B: “It’s rotten work.”

A: “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

maybe the reader gets injured doing something for training, but it’s all up to you!! i’m sure we’ll love it regardless. kisses!!

thank you for requesting! —prince steve au. fem, 1.5k

Pain was familiar before you came to the palace. Small pains and big, all kinds of hurting, poverty-driven neglect leading to toothaches and back pain, twisted ankles walked on without choice, sore skin otherwise ignored. It didn’t matter if you got hurt as long as you lived. 

Not in a dramatic sense. It didn’t feel dramatic at the time, only miserable. You go to work with a migraine because you can’t afford not to. You walk home in the dark because the mag-trams are getting too expensive. You break your holo, so you make do without one. You pick your head up to keep looking both ways and you get everywhere you need to go because you need to work, to get paid, to eat, to work. 

That’s how it always was. So getting sick didn’t matter. An injury was temporary pain that your body would fix eventually, and if it didn’t, well, it’s cheaper to pull a tooth than pay to have it filled. 

You were used to your sorry life, and then you met Steve. Tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed Steve. Looking at him sometimes is enough to make your whole body a void for things you used to complain about; you wake up across from him in the big bed and forget you can feel pain at all, if only because he’s already awake, waiting for you to open your eyes before he rests his hand on your cheek. You met him and your soul-mark glowed with a lacy, almost feathered light, your wrist braceleted with white colour that soon faded to mellow blue. 

When you first meet your soulmate, the colours you make tend to shift. It takes time for your heart to decide if love is pink or orange or blue. It seems to have settled now —when Steve kisses you, your mark turns a Gaussian amber. When you kiss back, his mark turns light pink, like the lotus flowers he keeps in his private gardens. 

Right now, your mark hums an angry red. It’s typical in its colour, and it’s common. Most people’s marks turn red when they’re hurting. Yours is a crimson so dark it looks black in the dim lighting, and it throbs in time with your pain like a vexing metronome. You’ll never be able to put it from your mind if the mark continues to remind you. 

Steve is uncharacteristically quiet at your side. His own mark is lit in sympathy, mostly pink with his affection, but threaded in red like spider lily flowers blooming against his forearm. 

He shifts beside you. It’s been more than a month since your wedding, and yet he’s careful with you. Almost shy, though he can be brash and cocky. You know intimately how sweet Steve can be when he’s in love. 

It doesn’t make any sense. 

“How’s the pain now?” he asks, his eyebrows pulled together at their starts. 

“Not so bad.” 

“Could you rate it on a scale? If zero was no pain at all, and ten were enough to warrant another dose of white willow bark?” 

“What if I were at a five?” you ask. 

“A half dose and a good kiss?” 

You turn his way but flinch when it puts undue pressure on your leg, a stab of hot pain jumping from your fractured tibia to deep inside of your hips. Steve sees your wincing and presses your shoulder into the bed, leaning over you, a scolding he doesn’t give in the pinch of his eyebrows as he leans down to kiss you. It’s more caress than kiss, his hand cupping your cheek, his lips barely touching yours before he rests his nose at your brow. “Can you stay still?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

“Just don’t want you to hurt yourself again.” 

He lifts his head. Holds your cheek for longer than you can work out why, dotting another soft kiss to your nose before slinking out of bed to find you some white willow bark tincture. It’s a potent pain reliever. You shouldn’t have too much of it. If you were still living your past life, you’d be chewing on ginger skins trying to limp your way back into work. There’d be no time to stop. 

“Steve,” you say, watching him a small ways away at the table of your quarters. He turns to you. “I don’t really need anything else.” 

“You said it’s hurting?” Steve pipettes the tincture into a cup of water. “You said a five, and you lie. Knowing you, it’s closer to an eight, you just don’t want to tell me.” 

It might not be as extreme as an eight now, laying down and bandaged, but it hurts badly and a tincture would solve this. Still, you say, “It’s fine, I don’t need it.” 

He brings the glass regardless and puts it on the nightstand. Your bed is yards too big for one person, even two, but when Steve sits next to you he leaves no room between you. He looks down at you fondly. Brown hair like down feather falls against his forehead. 

“You’re going to be in pain for a long time.” He brings a hand to your cheek again. “It might sound tame, a plateau fracture, but that’s still a fracture. You know doctors say fracture when they mean broken, right? You broke your leg. It’s okay to want pain relief.” 

“I knew that. I didn’t know you knew it.” 

“Impolite.” He ducks down to look you in the eyes. You’re a little skewiff, straight to his sideways, but it gets a point across. He wants to kiss you while you’ve said something maddening. “I don’t see why you’re so insistent on pretending it hasn’t happened and that you’re fine. You got hurt, and you’ll stay hurt for a while. It might be weeks of bed and– and you need to be looked after. I don’t know why you’re so guilty about it.” 

“I’m not guilty,” you deny guilty, turning your face to lean into his hand, rather than continue to face his imploring gaze. “I just… I’m not used to this. Before, if something went wrong, I couldn’t just lay down and wait to get better, and I surely wouldn’t be laying here with doctors and servants and the ladies in waiting all trying to make sure– It’s like it’s not my fault, and that doesn’t make any sense. I don’t want to be a burden on everyone. More than I already am,” you add, a bitter mumble nearly lost to his palm. 

He makes a promise, then, turning your face to the light. “I’ll take care of you,” he says. 

“It’s rotten work.” 

Steve shakes his head gently. “Not to me. Not if it’s you.” 

You press your tongue to your teeth, worried you’ll say something you’ll regret. You don’t want him to go. You want him to mean exactly what he says, to stay here and take care of you, and to enjoy doing it. Wouldn’t it be nice to be loved for love's sake? 

Steve shuffles inward and encourages your head into his lap, thrusting pillows aside to take up station against your headboard. He frames your face, upside down, before both hands begin to run down your arms. A hug, in a way, as he twists his face to kiss the skin beside your eye. You squint at the proximity. 

“You’re not a burden,” he says, hands climbing upwards now, warm and steady where they travel, “you’re my wife. My cherished wife, remember?” 

His tone is silk. 

“You… haven’t proved to be a wretched husband,” you confess. 

“I did try. But loving you has been easy. It makes husbandry a gift.” He laughs at his grandiose and gives you a kiss that’s more familiar by your ear, his pleading, searching kisses, the kind he likes to press to all your softest junctures. “I wish you could understand that we’re marked for a reason. We were always meant to be together, and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to stand with me. I’m happy you’re here. I want to take care of you.” 

Not if it’s you, he’d said. 

You wonder if it might be okay to cry. He’s massaging your arms, still bent in half over you trying to kiss some belief in him into your forehead. 

“It’ll be okay,” he murmurs between chaste, silent kisses, “really. You don’t have to pretend things don’t hurt you anymore.” 

You feel strange, then, shivery and weak as you turn your face into his thigh. His hand slips behind your back to hold you.

“Can I convince you to drink this tincture now?” he asks, just above your ear. 

“I love you,” you mumble. 

He pauses his trailing hands. You squeeze your eyes closed, but he doesn’t pause for long enough to scare you. “I love you,” he says. “Since the day we met, I’ve loved you. I’ll take care of you.” 

He is easy to believe. 

[nativegirltapes]

boyfriend headcanons . . . . featuring drew starkey !

notes: hcs for boyfie >.< i'll probably do a part 2 bc there's so much you can cover doing boyfriend hcs lol. not proofread bc i am lazy. these are all kinda random idk.

sfw

sweetest boyfriend ever! he’s genuinely just too kind for his own good. he pays attention to the little things, listens to you, spoils you rotten, is constantly complimenting you, and never lets his love for you go unheard. you didn’t think it was possible for boyfriend like drew to exist until you met him.

whenever asked about you in interviews he gets all smiley and flustered. doesn’t matter if you’ve been together for a year or for 17 years, he’s still cheesing and talking about you like you’re the only woman to ever exist.

he loves staying in and reading books. i can see him helping you broaden your horizons when it comes to reading. he’ll buy you both a copy of a book he’s been itching to read and he’ll let you read it at your own pace but he’s constantly asking questions about how far you are in it and what you think.

drew is soooo secretly clingy. everyone knows he loves physical touch and being around his loved ones, but they don’t realize how ‘bad’ it really is. he’s literally a big baby in a 6’4 beefy mans body. when you’re getting up in the morning he’s the type to say “no, don’t leave yet. just a few more minutes.” and yank you back into bed and kiss every crevice of your body. or he’ll always want his arms around your waist, he just loves holding you and making you feel safe because you make him feel safe too.

drew has no problem taking on the more "womanly roles", he loves cooking, cleaning and doing really any household chores for you. he's such a good cook, sometimes you'll come home to the best pasta of your life. he loves making sure you're fed asf and healthy!

he's so supportive of literally everything you do! he'll always hear you out on everything, even things you think are "stupid" or "not good ideas". if you want to pursue something, he's always the first person backing you up.

nsfw

he can man handle you like it's nothing. whenever you're teasing him he'll just pick you up and take you to his room and throw you on the bed, and you're just giggling the whole way there.

size kink. more for you than him...... but you love how big he is compared to you. his big arms, big back, big hands, his height. just standing next to him having him basically hovering over you is enough to get you going.

drew is soooo sweet in bed, he really takes his time with you. foreplay is huge for the both of you; kissing, heavy petting, dry humping. he's so playful and just wants the experienced to be fun and feel good for the both of you. obviously drew loves sex, but I don't think he sees it as something he necessarily needs, but moreso is just happy he gets to experience, especially with you. if that makes sense, he's just happy he gets to be with someone who makes him feel good and thinks he's sexy. and obviously vice verse, he's happy he gets to make you feel good and thinks you're the sexiest woman alive.

he loves to experiment. if you're ever down to try something new, so is he! he makes your relationship such a comfortable space to share and talk about new things you want to try.

[pickingupmymercedes]

34+35 - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: 34 + 35 - Ariana Grande

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: smut (these photos of him in a garage did something to me)

wordcount: +3k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER THE CUT, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

The heavy click of your heels echoes through the foyer, mingling with the faint hum of music drifting from the living room.

You drop your keys on the console, the sound loud enough to announce your arrival but soft enough not to interrupt him—because of course, he’s home.

And of course, he’s doing something maddeningly nonchalant while you’re practically vibrating with tension from your day.

You walk in, ready to unload the day’s chaos onto the nearest chair—or him, whichever happens first.

But the sight that greets you brings you to a sudden halt. There he is, sitting on the couch in a pair of grey sweatpants and a fitted white tank top, his body draped over the cushions like he owns the world.

His curls are loose, a few even falling into his face as he scrolls through photos on his tablet, the soft light of the screen casting a golden glow over his sharp jawline.

Your eyes flick to the photos for a split second, and there it is: him, in his new +44 merch, leaning against a vintage car in the shot, all casual dominance and smoldering eyes.

You swear under your breath. You’re already unraveling.

Lewis looks up and smirks, that slow, knowing grin that’s half amusement, half challenge. “Tough day? Or just can’t get enough of me?”

You roll your eyes, stepping out of your shoes and setting them by the sofa to buy yourself a moment. “Both” you mutter, brushing off the comment.

He sets the tablet down, leaning back into the couch with his arms stretched out over the backrest, watching you with the kind of lazy attention that makes your pulse skitter. “Hungry?”

“Starving.” The word slips out before you can think better of it, and his eyebrows rise just slightly.

“For what, exactly?”

“Lewis,” you warn, though it’s a weak attempt. You’re already losing the battle against the smile threatening to tug at your lips.

“What?” His tone is innocent, but the glint in his eyes betrays him. “Your body is telling me something, you know.

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the arm of the couch to look down at him waiting for him to go on.

“Come here, love. Tell me what is it.” He gestures lazily toward the space next to him.

You hesitate. Part of you wants to sink into the cushions beside him, let his calm energy wrap around you. But the other part—the part still running on adrenaline from back-to-back meetings and decisions—won’t let you.

You shake your head, staying where you are.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, your voice just a little too tight. “The usual chaos. Nothing worth rehashing.”

Lewis tilts his head, studying you like he’s deciding whether to push. He knows you too well, and it’s infuriating how easily he can see through the armor you’ve spent years perfecting.

“Huh” he says finally, his voice slow. “So, you’re pacing the room like you’re about to go to war for fun?”

“I’m not pacing” you shoot back, realizing too late that you’ve taken at least three steps toward the kitchen without thinking.

He laughs, the sound low and warm, cutting through the static in your mind. “Sure, love.”

You glance back at him, narrowing your eyes. He meets your gaze, holding it with a calm steadiness that makes your stomach flip.

“You’ve got that look, you know” he says, his voice softening slightly.

“What look?”

“The one that says you’re trying not to lose it, but you’re already halfway there.”

You exhale sharply, your shoulders sagging just a fraction. He’s not wrong, and the admission stings more than it should. You hate how easily he can disarm you, but there’s a comfort in it too, in the way he sees you even when you’d rather stay hidden.

“Maybe I am” you admit quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lewis’s expression shifts, the teasing fading into something softer, more intentional. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you before getting up and reaching you on the kitchen.

“Come here,” he says again, his tone firmer this time, leaving no room for argument.

And for once, you don’t argue. You take the steps that separate you and settle in his arms, hoping the day would begin to loosen its grip on you.

But regardless of how comforting is the weight of Lewis around you, it’s not enough to quiet the restless buzz in your chest. You stand there rigidly, your back straight and your arms folded like they’re holding the last shards of your resolve together.

Lewis’s thumb rubs slow circles against your back, and while the motion is meant to soothe, it only makes the energy under your skin prickle more.

“You’re still wound up” he says softly, the observation maddeningly accurate. “What’s got you so tense?”

“Nothing” you reply curtly, eyes fixed on the far wall. The response is clipped enough to make him chuckle.

“Liar.”

Your head snaps toward him, a glare aimed to warn him off. But Lewis only smiles, his arm slipping so he can lean forward and face you fully.

“I’m serious,” he says, his tone shifting to that deliberate calm that somehow grates against the storm inside you. “You walked in here looking like you wanted to fight me and the furniture, and now you’re here like the world owes you a fight.”

“I’m not in the mood for a fight.”

“No?” He tilts his head, clearly unconvinced. His gaze sweeps over you, and you can feel the weight of it like a spotlight, exposing every crack in your composure.

“You look like you could use some unwinding” he says, his voice low and careful not to push too far.

“I’m fine,” you snap, the edge in your voice sharper than you intended. “Can we not do this right now?”

Lewis lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment, leaning back against a stool at the kitchen island as his eyes linger on you. “Sure. We don’t have to do this. But you know you’re not just gonna sit there and stew all night.”

You roll your eyes and stand abruptly, pacing around under the guise of needing water. It’s an excuse to put space between you and him, though you can feel his eyes on you the entire time.

“You always do this” you mutter under your breath, reaching for a glass.

“Do what?” he asks, following you like a shadow you can’t shake.

“This.” You gesture vaguely toward him, spinning around to find him leaning casually closer, now against the counter, arms crossed and a smirk playing at his lips. “This thing where you sit here all calm and collected, acting like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“I do?”

The nonchalance in his voice makes your teeth grind, and he knows it. He shifts closer, his hand brushing against your arm as he takes the glass from you and sets it back further on the counter.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs, his voice a quiet command.

“I don’t need to talk. I need—” The words catch in your throat, your pulse quickening as his gaze locks onto yours.

“What?” His tone is steady, unrelenting.

You hesitate, your lips pressing into a tight line. You hate that he can read you so well, that he knows exactly how to dismantle the walls you’ve spent all day reinforcing.

“I don’t know,” you finally say, the admission bitter on your tongue.

Lewis steps closer, his presence cornering you until there’s nowhere to hide. He reaches out, brushing his thumb on your cheek. “Sure, you don’t” he says softly, his thumb grazing dangerously close to the corner of your mouth.

And that touch is enough to send a crack through your resolve, and the frustration bubbling inside spills over.

“I need you to fuck me senseless so I can get out of my head” you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

The moment hangs in the air, thick and electric. His hand drops from your cheek, and for a heartbeat, he’s still. But then his expression shifts, his smirk sharpening.

“Finally,” he murmurs, the word more to himself than to you.

Your heart races as he closes any of the distance left between you two. His hands find your hips, pulling you flush against him, and his eyes meet yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

“Senseless you say?” he half asks, his voice low and edged with challenge.

You glare at him, refusing to back down. “Right here and now.”

His grin widens, wicked and unapologetic. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

And he’s spinning you around, your back now pressed against the cool marble of the kitchen island. His hands are on you, firm and deliberate, and all the tension you’ve been carrying—the frustration, the restlessness, the overwhelming need— finally begins to slip.

Lewis’s lips claim yours with an urgency that leaves no room for overthinking, his hands gripping your hips like he’s anchoring you to him. Your breath hitches as his mouth moves to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin while his hands roam, tugging at your blouse to free you from it.

He isn’t soft, and you don’t want him to be. You want the fire, the friction, the rawness that only he can give you.

"You're still in your head," he murmurs against your collarbone, his voice a low rumble that makes your stomach tighten.

"Am not" you lie, though even you can hear the tension in your voice.

Lewis pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the bare skin at your waist. His gaze is piercing, like he can see every thought you’re desperately trying to bury.

"Yes, you are" he counters, his tone steady, assured. "But I’ve got you"

The words hit something deep, something tender, and you swallow hard, gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself. But Lewis isn’t having it. His hands leave your waist only to slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the island.

"You’re going to let go, babe" he says firmly, stepping between your legs. His hands slide up your thighs, spreading them wider as he leans in. "I’ll make sure of it."

A sharp retort rises to your lips, but it dies the moment his mouth captures yours again. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, then his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if holding onto him might keep you from drowning in your own thoughts.

"I hate how you do this" you mumble against his lips, your voice a mix of frustration and surrender.

"Yeah?" His lips curve into a teasing smile, but his hands are anything but playful. They slide up your thighs, gripping firmly before tugging at the waistband of your pants.

"How you make me need you" you admit, the words cutting through the fog in your mind like a blade.

Lewis leans back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression softening even as his hands remain possessive on your hips. "That’s not something you need to hate" he says, his voice a low murmur.

Before you can respond, his hands move again, sliding your pants down and over your hips, leaving you only in your lingerie.

"Look at me," he says softly, tipping your chin up with his fingers when your wonders.

The intensity in his eyes pins you in place, grounding you in a way that makes your head spin. You feel the fight in you start to waver, your grip on control slipping with every deliberate touch, every whispered word.

"You’re here with me" he continues, his other hand trailing up your thigh. "Stay with me, Y/n."

"I’m trying" you whisper, the words thick with frustration.

"I know" he replies, his tone gentle but unyielding. His fingers graze the inside of your thigh, teasing but firm, and you can’t help the moan you let out.

The way he says it, like he knows you better than you know yourself. You exhale shakily, leaning forward to bury your face in his neck, your hands clutching at his shirt like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

"I hate how much I need this" you confess, your voice muffled against his skin.

"No, you don’t" he murmurs, his hands tightening on your thighs as he pulls you closer.

The next moments blur together in a haze of heat and motion. His lips are everywhere—your neck, your collarbone, the sensitive skin just below your ear.

The cold of the marble beneath you is a fleeting sensation, eclipsed entirely by the warmth of his body pressed against yours. He’s meticulous, demanding and reverent, as if he’s determined to strip away not just your clothes but every ounce of tension you’ve carried with you.

And he does. Piece by piece, layer by layer, until there’s nothing left but you and him and the steady, grounding rhythm of his movements.

His hands leave your body for only a moment as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, shedding them in a single motion.

You can’t help but reach out, your hands instinctively finding him, wrapping around the hard length of his dick with a confidence that earns you a raised brow and a teasing smirk.

"Handsy, aren’t we?" he quips, his voice warm with amusement, though there’s also a hunger there.

You don’t bother with a response, too focused on the weight of him in your palm, the way his skin feels hot and smooth against your fingers. But your grip tightens slightly, and he inhales sharply, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by primal need.

Lewis leans down, one hand bracing the counter beside you while the other trails up your thigh. When he glances at you, his intentions are clear.

He’s going down on you.

The thought of his mouth on you, of him taking his time, should be enough to unravel the tight coil of frustration lodged in your chest. But it doesn’t.

Instead, the restless energy intensifies, and the idea of waiting—of anything standing between you and the rawness you crave—makes your pulse hammer in protest.

Your hand shoots out, fingers grasping at his biceps and tugging just enough to make him stop.

“Don’t,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended.

Lewis freezes, his eyes snapping up to yours. For a moment, there’s confusion there, a flicker of surprise that quickly softens into something more intentional.

“You sure?” he asks, his voice low, careful, as his hands pause on your thighs. He searches your face like he’s trying to read between the lines of what you’re not saying.

Instead of answering, you pull his body against yours, locking your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, leaving no space for doubt.

That’s all he needs.

Lewis captures your lips in a kiss that’s all consuming, swallowing the moan that escapes you as he presses closer. His hands grip your thighs, positioning you at just the right angle, and then he’s there, pressing into you in a way that forces every other thought from your mind.

Even after all this time, the first stretch always takes your breath away. The sheer girth of him, the way he fills every inch of you, is something that never fails to surprise you.

A gasp escapes your lips, muffled against his mouth, and he groans in response, his forehead dropping to yours as he steadies himself.

Lewis adjusts his grip on your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin with enough force to leave marks that will bloom tomorrow—an unspoken promise of this moment lingering long after.

He draws back, his cock sliding almost all the way out before slamming into you again, forcing a broken cry from your lips.

"That's it," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "I know you want to run that mouth of yours, but I don’t think you can right now, can you?"

The words should irritate you—no, they do irritate you—but any retort you might have had dissolves into a moan when he grinds his hips just right, hitting that devastating angle that makes your vision blur.

Your mind tries to fight back, to form some kind of response, something sharp and biting to remind him you’re not completely undone.

"Thought so," he says smugly, his teeth catching your bottom lip in a brief, punishing tug. His thrusts grow harder, more deliberate, and your head falls back against the cool surface of the island.

"You’ve been in your head all day, haven’t you? Spinning, overthinking. Let’s see if I can’t fuck all those thoughts right out of you."

You want to argue. But every time you’re on the verge of saying something, he pulls out nearly to the tip and drives back in, stealing the air from your lungs.

Fuck him.

Fuck this.

Why does he have to feel this fucking good?

"You’re too quiet, baby," he taunts, his hands shifting to grab at your waist, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter so he can pound into you even deeper.

The sharp slap of his skin against yours echoes in the room, drowning out your ragged breaths. "Where’s that smart mouth now? The one giving orders all day?"

Your fingers dig into his arms, desperate for something to ground you. "Lew" you manage to choke out, though your voice is barely audible over the obscene sounds of your bodies colliding.

"Don’t worry, I’m just getting started." he replies, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He adjusts his angle slightly, and the next thrust makes your toes curl and your back arch off the counter.

Your mind tries to claw back some semblance of control, some internal quip to distract from the overwhelming sensations, but it’s useless.

Every sharp comment that tries to form is obliterated the moment he moves, his hips driving into you with unrelenting precision.

"You feel that?" he growls, his voice rough with exertion. His hand slides up your stomach, between your breasts, until his fingers wrap lightly around your throat—just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.

"That’s me pulling you out of that head of yours. Don’t think, babe. Just feel."

You’re too far gone to respond, but he doesn’t need you to. His pace picks up, relentless and punishing, the rough drag of his cock against your walls pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his tone darkly satisfied. "You’re mine right now, aren’t you? Just me and my cock on that pretty little head of your."

You can’t argue. You can’t even think of a reason to try. Your mind is blank, your body a live wire under his control, every nerve ending tuned to the rhythm he’s setting.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Let go for me. I’ve got you."

And with one more thrust—perfect, devastating, him—you do.

The world felt like it had shattered into fragments, each piece scattered too far for you to grasp.

You lay there on the cool counter, body limp, chest heaving, utterly boneless. Reality was an abstract concept—one you weren’t even sure you wanted to return to.

When Lewis pulled out, you barely noticed. It was only the warm sensation spreading across your stomach of his seed on your skin that registered somewhere deep in the recesses of your fogged mind.

But even that didn’t fully bring you back. Not yet.

It wasn’t until his hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing lightly over your warmed up skin, that your senses began to reassemble themselves.

Your eyes fluttered open to find him watching you with satisfaction, his dark eyes searching your face. His curls damp with sweat, and his lips were swollen from all the kisses you’d stolen—or he’d stolen from you.

Either way, he looked unfairly good for someone who had just ruined you.

"Okay?" he murmured softly, his thumb pausing in its gentle stroke as he waited for your response.

You blinked up at him, still too blissed out to form words. Instead, you gave a slow, deliberate nod.

"Yeah?" he pressed, his voice dipping into that soothing tone he always used when you were at your most vulnerable. His other hand joined the first, cradling your face now, as if you might slip away if he wasn’t careful.

Another nod. Your lips parted to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse, barely-there whisper. "On my stomach?"

His lips quirked into a cocky grin, the sharp contrast to his earlier gentleness making you want to smack him—if you had the strength.

"A little souvenir" he echoed, his tone playful but still laced with warmth. He leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours. "Would you rather a creampie"

"Shut up," you muttered, your voice gaining a little strength now.

"You didn’t want me to shut up earlier," he teased, his thumbs sweeping over your cheekbones. "In fact, I think the words you used were—what was it?—‘fuck me senseless.’"

You groaned, letting your head fall back against the counter.

Lewis chuckled, the sound low and warm. "As long as you’re feeling better"

He kissed your forehead, soft and lingering, and you sighed, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over you. Your body was still thrumming from everything he’d done to you, but your mind—your perpetually spinning, overanalyzing mind—was finally still.

And damn it, as much as you hated to admit it, he’d been right.

"Yeah, yeah," you grumbled, closing your eyes again as his hand smoothed over your skin "Congrats. You shut me up."

"Didn’t shut you up" he corrected, his voice brimming with that maddening mix of confidence and affection. "Got you out of your head. Big difference."

Your eyes fluttered open, still hazy with the remnants of satisfaction, and found him staring down at you with a stupidly smug grin.

"Right," you muttered, voice scratchy, "I’m going to clean myself up." Your hand motioned lazily to the sticky trail now spreading down on your thighs, the remnants of him painting your skin.

Lewis stepped back, making no effort to stop you as you slid off the counter, your legs wobbling a little before you caught your balance. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, that same infuriatingly cocky smile plastered on his face.

As you padded down the hallway, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes trailing after you. Halfway to your bedroom, you stopped abruptly, glancing over your shoulder to catch him watching you, leaning there like he didn’t have a care in the world.

"You coming, or are you just going to stand there?" you called back, one brow arching as you let your eyes rake over him for emphasis.

His grin widened, his gaze dipping shamelessly down your body. "I am coming," he replied, pushing off the counter with a slow, deliberate motion. "Just didn’t want to rush and miss the view."

You rolled your eyes and turned back around, but the small, satisfied smirk tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Typical him. Always cocky. Always exactly what you needed.

_____________________________________________________________

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[kiwriteswords]

Something To Be Thankful For

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: With Thanksgiving in the US next week, I could not help myself! Started writing this one last week and debated on posting, but here we are. Enjoy! Grateful for this community! (Also needed to post this before I move onto writing some Christmas content, lol!)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags/Warnings: Thanksgiving, fluff, domestic moments, holiday traditions, family dynamics, slow burn, new relationship, found family, mentions of grief, mentions of wine/alcohol, and food TW.

Sypnosis: When you accept an unexpected Thanksgiving invitation from Aaron Hotchner and his son Jack, a simple holiday dinner becomes something more. Through shared laughter, heartfelt moments, and the warmth of a home-cooked meal, you discover the beauty of connection and the quiet joy of being exactly where you belong.

You were shuffling papers into your go-bag when you heard a knock on the edge of your desk. Glancing up, you were greeted by Hotch’s warm smile, softer than the one he wore in the field but still undeniably him. It was a smile you’d only recently gotten used to—the kind of smile that reminded you things between the two of you were no longer strictly professional.

The bullpen was quieter than usual. Most of the team had already left for the extended Thanksgiving break. Morgan had been the first to bolt, teasing everyone about having a “real” meal with family, while Garcia had dragged Reid out the door, insisting he couldn’t spend the holiday with nothing but his books for company. Rossi had a feast he was looking forward to slaving over, and you could still hear Emily groan at having to see her mother. JJ, however, was looking forward to the domestic Thanksgiving she was hosting. Now, it was just you and Hotch left, lingering in the familiar silence of the BAU.

“You’re not headed out yet?” Aaron’s voice broke the silence, low and thoughtful, drawing your attention away from your bag. He stood near your desk, hands in his pockets, his tie slightly loosened from the day.

“Just tying up some loose ends,” you replied, zipping your bag shut and brushing a stray hair from your face. “You?”

He hesitated, his gaze shifting from your bag to you and then back again. His expression was softer than usual, but his shoulders still carried that ever-present weight. “Actually, I wanted to ask what your plans are for Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, nothing special.” You shrugged, keeping your tone light and breezy. “My family’s out of state, so I’ll probably just stay in. Maybe I’ll cook something small and watch some cheesy holiday movies. You know, the usual.”

Aaron frowned slightly, the crease between his brows deepening, and you immediately regretted how casually you’d phrased it. His concern was unmistakable, and it made your stomach flip.

“You’re spending it alone?” he asked, his voice a touch lower, softer.

“Well, yeah,” you said lightly, trying to shrug it off. “I didn’t think traveling back for just a few days made sense. Plus, it’s not like I’ve never done it before.”

He didn’t respond right away, and his silence made you look up at him. There was something unreadable in his expression, a quiet thoughtfulness that always made you feel like he saw more than you ever intended to show. His lips pressed together briefly, and then his shoulders relaxed just a fraction. When he finally spoke, there was a quiet determination in his tone.

“Then join me and Jack.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Join us,” he repeated, stepping closer, his voice gentler this time. “It’ll just be the two of us. Jessica is with Haley’s family, and Sean… well, who knows where he is. There’s plenty of room at the table.”

“Oh, Aaron, I don’t want to intrude—”

“You wouldn’t be,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. He stepped closer still, and now his eyes held yours with an intensity that left no room for doubt. “Jack would love to have you there. And so would I.”

Your throat tightened at his sincerity, and for a moment, you could only stare at him. This was Aaron Hotchner—stoic, composed, sometimes impossibly guarded. But now, he was standing in front of you, asking you to spend Thanksgiving with him and his son. It was more than an invitation—it felt like a gesture, an opening to something you hadn’t dared to hope for.

The two of you hadn’t discussed Thanksgiving before this. Your relationship was still new, so new that you’d intentionally avoided bringing up the holiday, not wanting to impose or create any kind of awkward expectation. But here he was, offering exactly what you hadn’t dared to ask for.

“You’re sure?” you asked, your voice quieter now, hesitant.

“I’m very sure,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “You shouldn’t spend the holiday alone. And honestly…” He paused, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “It wouldn’t feel right without you.”

Aaron could see the uncertainty flickering in your expression, but he also saw the moment it gave way to something warmer, something that made his chest tighten. He hadn’t planned to ask—not until he saw you standing there, zipping up your bag with a casual mention of spending the day alone. The thought of you sitting by yourself, piecing together a small meal, felt wrong in a way he couldn’t ignore.

You nodded, the weight of his sincerity breaking through your hesitation. “Okay. I’ll come.”

The relief that washed over his face was subtle but unmistakable, and his small smile made your chest feel impossibly light. “Good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you said, unable to stop the smile spreading across your lips. “Sounds perfect.”

As the two of you walked to the elevator, silence filled the space, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You felt his presence next to you, steady and sure, and your mind raced with the implications of spending Thanksgiving with him and Jack. It was new territory, uncharted and a little daunting, but the thought of sitting at his table—laughing, sharing stories, carving turkey—filled you with a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

Aaron glanced at you as you both stepped into the elevator, catching the faint trace of a smile on your lips. For him, the idea of having you there wasn’t just about avoiding loneliness; it was about inviting you into something that mattered to him. Jack needed to see that warmth, that joy again. And, quietly, so did he.

The morning of Thanksgiving arrived, and your kitchen looked like a crime scene—a deliciously fragrant, pumpkin-filled crime scene. Flour dusted the counter, a rolling pin was haphazardly balanced against a bowl, and the golden-brown crust of your homemade pumpkin pie was cooling on a rack, mocking you with its imperfect edges.

“This has to be perfect,” you muttered, frowning as you adjusted the spices in the filling for the third time. Despite your best efforts, doubt lingered like a stubborn stain. You didn’t want to bring just any dessert to Aaron and Jack’s Thanksgiving table; it had to be flawless.

But the pie wasn’t your only problem.

Your bedroom was a disaster zone. A few blouses were draped over the chair, rejected dresses lay in a heap on the bed, and a pair of black heels you’d pulled from the back of your closet sat mockingly on the floor. Every outfit you tried on felt wrong—too formal, too casual, or just not you.

After tossing yet another top onto the growing pile, you grabbed your phone and hit Aaron’s contact. The second you heard his warm, familiar voice on the other end, you started rambling.

“Hey, okay, so, uh, what’s the dress code for today? Like, should I wear a dress? Or maybe a nice top and jeans? Or should I do something fancier? I don’t want to overdo it, but I also don’t want to look like I didn’t try—oh God, what if I look like I’m trying too hard? Are we doing photos? Do I need to plan for that? Aaron—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, a soft laugh threading through his voice. “Take a breath.”

You paused, clutching the phone tightly as you exhaled. “Sorry. I’m just… overthinking.”

“I can tell,” he said, still chuckling. “But you don’t have to. Trust me.”

“How can I not overthink? It’s our first holiday together, and I don’t want to mess it up,” you admitted in a rush.

“You won’t,” he assured you, his tone gentle. “Honestly, you’re adorable when you get frazzled like this.”

Your cheeks heated at his words, and before you could protest, he added, “Jack’s still in his pajamas. And as for me… well, I’m not exactly pulling out a suit for dinner at home. Something comfortable is perfectly fine.”

“Wait—Jack’s still in his pajamas?” you asked, blinking in disbelief, looking at the clock on your nightstand.

“Yes,” Aaron said, clearly amused. “And he’ll probably stay in them until I convince him to change for dinner. So, whatever you’re comfortable in will be perfect. You don’t need to try for us.”

His words sank in, melting some of the tension in your chest. “Okay,” you said quietly, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “Thank you. I think I needed to hear that.”

“Of course,” he said softly. “Now, how’s the pie coming along?”

You glanced toward the kitchen, where the scent of nutmeg and cinnamon lingered in the air. “It’s… well, it’s not going to win any awards for presentation, but I think it’ll taste good.”

“That’s all that matters,” Aaron said. “We’re looking forward to it—and to seeing you.”

Your stomach fluttered at the warmth in his voice. “Me too,” you murmured, suddenly feeling a lot calmer.

“Good. I’ll be there soon to pick you up. Take your time finishing up.”

“Okay. Thanks, Aaron.”

After you hung up, you felt the lingering anxiety dissolve. You ditched the fancy outfit idea and settled on your favorite pair of jeans and a cozy sweater. Then, you went back to the pie, focusing on getting the filling just right while you waited for him to arrive.

When the familiar black SUV pulled into your driveway, you took a deep breath, balancing the still-warm pumpkin pie in one hand and a bag filled with carefully packed containers in the other. You barely had time to lock the door behind you before Jack jumped out of the car and bounded up to meet you, a wide grin on his face.

“Hi!” he chirped, his excitement palpable. He glanced at the pie in your hands. “Is that dessert?”

“It sure is,” you said, crouching slightly to meet his gaze. “And there’s more where that came from. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Oh, I’m always hungry,” Jack said with a dramatic sigh, making you laugh.

Aaron approached a moment later, his brows lifting in surprise as he took in the scene. You were balancing a picture-perfect pumpkin pie in one hand and a bag in the other, your face flushed with a mix of excitement and nerves.

“Pumpkin pie and—what’s in the bag?” he asked, his tone light with curiosity.

You straightened, holding the bag up with a sheepish smile. “Homemade stuffing. And a couple of bottles of wine.”

Aaron blinked, his lips curving into an amused smile. He had expected you to bring the pumpkin pie you raved about, knowing how thoughtful you were, but this was above and beyond. “You didn’t have to go all out.”

“It’s Thanksgiving,” you replied, shrugging. “It felt weird to show up empty-handed.”

“And the wine?” he asked, his tone teasing as his gaze flicked to the bottles tucked in the side pocket of the bag.

“One red, one white,” you said, grinning. “You like red, I like white, and I’m not driving, so… why not?”

Aaron chuckled softly, shaking his head. You’d thought of everything. “Fair enough. Why not?”

Jack reached for the bag, eager to help, but Aaron gently intercepted it. “Let me carry that,” he said, taking the bag and pie from you. “You take it easy. We’ve got this.”

As he walked back to the car, his thoughts lingered on you. He’d always admired your attention to detail, but this? This was another level. It wasn’t just the food or the wine—it was the thoughtfulness behind it. You’d taken the time to think about what would make the day special, not just for him but for Jack, too. It tugged at something deep in him, quiet gratitude that he wasn’t facing this day alone anymore.

The drive back to Aaron and Jack’s apartment was quiet and peaceful, the kind of stillness that only came with holidays. The roads were nearly empty; the world seemingly paused for the day.

Jack filled the silence, animatedly telling you about how his dad had let him help with the turkey that morning.

“Well, I didn’t really touch the turkey,” Jack admitted, grinning. “But I got to pick the seasoning!”

From the driver’s seat, Aaron couldn’t help but smile. Jack was practically beaming, his excitement contagious. Aaron found himself glancing at you in the rearview mirror, the way your eyes lit up as you listened to Jack’s story.

“You’ve got a good sous chef there, Aaron,” you teased, glancing at him. He gave you one of those small, subtle smiles that you were quickly learning to adore.

The warmth of your voice settled something in him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been dreading this day, how empty it had felt knowing Jessica was away and Sean was off doing who-knew-what. But now, with you in the car and Jack’s laughter filling the space, it felt… full. It felt right.

“Well,” Aaron said, his lips twitching into a faint smile, “he might be better at seasoning than I am.”

Jack let out a laugh, and you joined in, the sound weaving through the quiet hum of the car. Aaron’s chest tightened for a moment—not in discomfort, but in recognition. This was something he hadn’t allowed himself to hope for in a long time: the beginnings of a new kind of family, one that made the holidays feel like home again.

When you arrived at the apartment, Aaron carried your things while you shrugged off your coat. He set the bag down carefully and returned to you, his hands outstretched to take your coat. His gaze lingered a little longer, studying your face before trailing down to your outfit. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice low and warm. The sincerity behind it made your heart skip.

You glanced down at your outfit—a simple pair of jeans and a soft sweater—and flushed. “This? It’s nothing fancy.”

“I know,” he replied, his smile growing slightly. “That’s why I like it. You could be wearing sweats, and you’d still look great.”

Your chest fluttered at his words, and you smiled shyly. “Thanks, Aaron.”

He hung your coat with an easy familiarity, glancing back at you as if he wanted to say more but chose to keep it to himself. For a moment, the quiet in the room felt heavy with something unspoken, but then Jack broke the silence, bounding toward you with the same enthusiasm he’d shown when he first greeted you.

“Come on! We’re setting the table,” Jack said, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the dining area.

“Lead the way,” you said with a laugh, letting him guide you.

Aaron stood by the doorway to the kitchen for a moment, watching the two of you go. Jack was chatting animatedly about napkin folding techniques he’d learned from his Aunt Jess, and you were smiling, nodding along with genuine interest. Aaron turned back to the kitchen, his chest tightening—not from stress, but from something softer, more hopeful.

The next half hour passed in a warm flurry of activity. While Aaron focused on the turkey, you and Jack worked together to set the table. Jack insisted on folding the napkins into what he called “turkey shapes,” even though they looked more like triangles, and you encouraged his efforts as if he were crafting masterpieces.

“You’re a natural,” you told him as he carefully adjusted a plate.

He grinned up at you, his pride clear. “Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely,” you said with a playful wink, and Jack’s grin widened even more.

From the kitchen, Aaron glanced over at the two of you. His hands stilled on the turkey baster as he watched Jack eagerly showing you his handiwork, your laughter mixing with Jack’s excited chatter. The sight made something settle in him, a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time spreading through his chest.

He shifted his focus back to the turkey, his mind wandering to how easily you’d fit into their dynamic. It wasn’t forced, wasn’t awkward. Instead, it was natural, like you’d been part of their little family all along. He shook his head slightly, the faintest smile lingering on his lips as he resumed preparing dinner.

The apartment filled with the warm, savory aroma of roasting turkey, the clinking of plates as Jack adjusted the table settings, and the soft hum of conversation. Occasionally, you glanced toward the kitchen, where Aaron worked with quiet efficiency, a faint smile playing at the edges of his expression whenever he caught your eye.

Jack’s laughter echoed brightly, and Aaron chuckled softly in response, the sound grounding the space in warmth and comfort. It had been a long time since Thanksgiving had felt like more than just another day, but with you here, it felt different. It felt like something new, something he wanted to hold onto.

The table was set, the food was ready, and the apartment buzzed with a warmth that felt almost tangible. Jack had insisted on lighting the small candle centerpiece he’d picked out, proudly declaring it “fancy.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he adjusted the napkins for the third time, clearly taking his job very seriously.

Aaron carried the turkey to the table, the golden skin glistening perfectly, and Jack’s eyes widened in awe. “Whoa, Dad, it looks awesome!”

“Thanks, buddy,” Aaron said, his lips quirking into a small smile. His gaze flickered toward you for a moment, something softer lingering there before he gestured for everyone to take their seats.

As the three of you settled in, Jack’s excitement bubbled over. “Can we eat now? Please?”

Aaron shook his head, chuckling. “Not quite yet, Jack.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze warm as he looked between you and his son. “Before we start, I think it’s only right that we share what we’re grateful for.”

Jack groaned, though his grin betrayed him. “Dad…”

“Come on,” Aaron said with a faint smirk. “It’s tradition.”

Jack sighed dramatically, but you could tell he didn’t mind as much as he pretended. Aaron turned to you, a slight tilt of his head. “Would you like to go first?”

You blinked, caught off guard, but quickly smiled. “Sure.” You looked at Jack, then at Aaron, and for a moment, your words caught in your throat. “I guess… I’m grateful for this,” you said softly. “For being here, for both of you. This is the kind of thing I’ve always dreamed of—a warm meal, good company, and moments that feel like home.”

Aaron’s expression softened, his gaze steady as he nodded. Jack beamed at you, clearly pleased by your answer.

“My turn!” Jack piped up. “I’m grateful for… um… pie!” He grinned mischievously before quickly adding, “And Dad. And you,” he said, looking at you shyly. “And for not having to eat Brussels sprouts this year.”

That earned a laugh from both you and Aaron, and Jack grinned, proud of himself. Aaron’s smile lingered as he turned his attention to Jack.

“Well, I’m grateful for you, Jack,” he said, his tone soft but steady. “And for this… for today. It’s been a while since Thanksgiving felt like Thanksgiving.”

His gaze shifted to you, and there was something unspoken in his eyes, a depth that made your breath catch. “I’m grateful for you,” he said simply. “For being here.”

The words were gentle but carried a weight that settled over the table like a warm blanket. Jack didn’t notice the brief pause that followed, busy trying to decide what part of the turkey to claim first, but you felt it—the quiet sincerity of what Aaron had said.

As the meal began, the conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating the clinking of plates and utensils. The food was incredible, each dish perfectly cooked and seasoned. You found yourself marveling at Aaron’s skill in the kitchen.

“This is amazing,” you said between bites of turkey. “I can’t believe you pulled all of this together.”

“Dad’s a really good cook,” Jack said proudly. “He always lets me help.”

Aaron glanced at you, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks at the praise. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he said quietly, his tone tinged with modesty.

The meal stretched on, each bite more delicious than the last, but it wasn’t just the food—it was the atmosphere. The apartment felt alive in a way it hadn’t in years. For Aaron, this was the first Thanksgiving he hadn’t spent alone with Jack since Haley passed. The ones before that—when he and Haley were divorced—had been different, fractured in a way he tried not to dwell on.

But tonight? Tonight was different. It wasn’t just the food or the laughter; it was the way you fit so effortlessly into this moment. It was the way Jack’s eyes lit up when you praised his napkin folding, the way your laugh softened the edges of his own grief, the way you leaned into this space like it was where you belonged.

Aaron leaned back slightly, watching you and Jack talk animatedly about the pie, his heart aching in a way that wasn’t painful but full. It had been years—years—since he’d felt this kind of warmth during a holiday. Not since Jack was a baby, not since he and Haley had been on the same page. This wasn’t just a good Thanksgiving. This was a piece of something he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing.

For you, this moment was everything you’d dreamed of when you thought about falling in love someday. Not the grand gestures or big declarations, but this—the little moments. The laughter shared over a meal, the warmth of a family gathering, the simple joy of being wanted somewhere.

As the evening wore on, Jack began to nod off at the table, and Aaron scooped him up, promising him a slice of pie tomorrow. You helped clear the dishes, and the quiet rhythm of the task ground you both in the moment. Aaron glanced at you as you set the last plate in the sink, his expression soft.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“For what?” you asked, turning to meet his gaze.

“For being here,” he said simply, the weight of his gratitude clear in his voice.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest as you replied, “Thank you for having me.” And for the first time in a long time, you both felt like Thanksgiving was exactly what it was meant to be.

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

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@justyourusualash

[buckevantommy]

Buck could fill a small bakery with the amount he's baked in the past few weeks. He cleaned out the flour shelf at his local corner market, used a coop's worth of eggs, pushed his mixer to the limit, and had his oven working near constantly. Every neighbor on his floor and everyone he's passed in the lobby has had a loaf of some kind left on their doorstep or politely shoved into their hands. Everyone at the station is begging him not to overload them on anymore sugar - they'll take the carb-loaded meals he makes at work but avoid Buck the moment he enters the bay doors with a basket of saran-wrapped sweet bakes.

The worst part is that it's not even working anymore. It never really distracted him enough to not want to call Tommy, just put his hands and head to use for an hour or two at a time so that he couldn't text or call.

But now there's nothing left to bake with. And Eddie is looking at houses in El Paso. And everyone has family to go home to, except for Buck. And every reason he has for not being the one to reach out first goes out the window.

After a few rings, Tommy answers with a questioning: "-Buck?" and it's a gutpunch he doesn't need today but he's already feeling like shit so the pain just gets absorbed into the rest of it.

"H-hey, Tommy." It feels good to say his name under- well, not better circumstances than addressing his broken heart, but something with a bit of tentative hope at least.

And it's good to hear his voice. The voicemails and audio notes and videos from their time together have soothed him and tormented him at different times, but hearing Tommy respond sends a pang of longing through him.

"Um. I-I, uh."

"Are you okay?"

A bitter sound trips its way out of Buck's mouth. "No. No, I-I'm not okay."

"Are you hurt?"

The urgency in Tommy's voice thrills him; he still cares. But Buck doesn't want to misrepresent himself, doesn't want to trick Tommy into caring about what he's going through.

"Guess that depends."

"On what?"

"What kinda hurt you mean."

There's an inhale across the line. "What can I do?"

Tears prick at the corners of Buck's eyes. "I just- need someone to talk to." He doesn't say: even though we're not together anymore, can we still be friends? because even though he's missed Tommy being in his life, he doesn't know if he could be just friends.

"Okay." Buck hears some rustling in the background, footsteps, background noise receding. "I'm here. Talk to me."

Tommy wants to hear what Buck has to say, he always did. So Buck talks. He tells Tommy about Eddie moving away, and Tommy listens. And when it gets too much he tells Tommy about a new niece or nephew of his on the way, and Tommy offers his sincere congratulations. And then he tells Tommy about his baking coping mechanism and Tommy quiets.

So much so that Buck checks to see if the call dropped.

"I'm on my fifth engine," Tommy admit. "I keep taking them apart and putting them back together until they work better than before. But everytime I was done I had to start again, fix another broken thing, because I couldn't fix.."

Buck takes an unsteady breath. Us. "Me."

"No," Tommy says emphatically. "I couldn't fix me. Too broken to be good enough for you."

It's a heartwrenching confession, but Buck feels a smile beneath the tears sneaking down his face. "You don't think I'm broken? Nobody stays for me, Tommy. At some point I gotta realize I'm just not someone people wanna stick around for in the long run."

"Evan.."

Buck breezes over the sound of his name in Tommy's mouth, can't dwell on how good it feels because it won't last. "Guess neither of us are forever guys, huh." His heart, bruised and battered, bleeds a little more. The tears stream freely now. He sniffles, but manages to steady his voice as he says: "I loved you. That was real."

Tommy's breath hitches. "I was a coward."

Buck nods. Cries some more. They're both fucked up.

Tommy hesitates, but then: "I'm off-shift soon. We could.."

He leaves it hanging. There's so many ways Buck could finish that sentence, most of them unbearably hopeful. He doesn't want to stay in his empty apartment anymore. "Yours?" His voice is a little wet. "Maybe I could help you with that engine."

Tommy's breath of amusement is a balm to Buck's aching heart. "You know something about vintage cars I don't?" It's teasing, and gentle, and Buck has missed this.

"Maybe. Maybe trying to do it alone is the problem."

Another breath of laughter, followed by resignation in Tommy's voice. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

Buck listens to him breathe for a moment: in, out, in..

"I'll meet you at mine."

Buck's poor heart beats a little stronger.

*

It was more than an hour later, of battling crosstown traffic and then letting himself into Tommy's house because Tommy had explicitly told him to use the spare key. They never gotten to the point of swapping keys. That probably should've been a step they didn't skip over. Buck's too-long legs had skipped too many for Tommy's comfort.

He pushes all thoughts of that aside. He's not perfect, he's too much, but Tommy agreed to see him. Tommy wants.. he's not sure.

Buck stands in the little living room, surveying Tommy's space while his mind spirals, heart yoyo-ing between hope and hopelessness. He doesn't know how much time passes when the front door opens and Tommy appears in the entryway.

He looks good. Tired, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by, but good. His hair is a little longer all over, and it suits him. Buck wants to tell him as much but he can't seem to say anything.

Then Tommy says, "Hey," soft and concerned and fond, a sad smile at the corners of his eyes.

And Buck's tears threaten back into his own. "Hey." His voice is watery and brittle.

Tommy's there in three strides, gathering Buck into his arms, and Buck lets himself be wrapped in an embrace. Winds his arms around Tommy and presses into his solid warmth. Breathes him in as the tears come.

He feels safe. Seen. His heart cradled in care the way his body is cradled in Tommy's arms.

Buck takes a deep, steadying inhale of Tommy's scent and pulls back enough to look him in the face. His hands loose their grip at Tommy's shirt, smoothing to palm him through the cotton.

"About that engine.."

Tommy's smile is wide enough to crinkle his eyes in that way Buck loves, with joy etched in the creases.

"I wanna help you, if you'll let me. We could make it work. Together."

Tommy's eyes glisten. His smile breaks into a grin. "I'd like to try that."

buck probably called tommy every chance he got when they were together. driving home from work and stuck in traffic, it’s time to call tommy and tell him about his shift. late night in bed and he’s struggling to fall asleep without him, tommy’s soft voice will lull him to sleep from the other side of the phone. both on shift and the calls had been particularly slow, he will go and sit on the roof with tommy on loud speaker and they will just talk about anything and everything.

and when buck finds out that eddie is thinking about moving back to texas, tommy is the only person who he wants to talk to about it. so he finally gives in and calls. and of course, tommy will answer.

[novvabee]

Just imagine poly!marauders x reader who decides to go on a holiday trip together but when they arrive there is the classic one-bed-trope (or maybe two and they argue on who gets to share the bed with reader) and she’s all shy bc even though they live together she never spent a night with them in the same room, specially on the same bed!

(Btw, are you planning on getting them together?)

hehehe soooo... I am planning on it, but for right now I live for the pining and the wholesome moments without them being together. anyways here is part 9.

And They Were Roommates pt.9

Summary:reader and the boys go on a trip, one bed trope, it's cute

word count: 1.9k

You and the boys decided to go on a little weekend getaway. You all decided to go to some classic touristy spots like the zoo and aquarium, which the boys definitely loved, and a history museum, which for some reason really fascinated James and Sirius, they stopped at nearly every attraction and stared in awe, especially when it came to the dinosaur fossils. 

You chalked it up to them being typical boys and found it almost comical, they acted like they had never seen some of the stuff.

After a long day filled with fun, you were in need of a rest. Luckily, you and the boys had rented rooms at a hotel nearby, knowing that it would be too far a journey to go back home at the end of the day.

After a quick bite to eat at a cute little cafe, you and the boys made your way to the hotel. It was a short journey, just up the road from where you had been spending the whole day.

“I just don’t understand,” Sirius said while walking to the hotel, “Those paintings, they were pretty, but why were they in a museum? They didn’t even move.” 

You laughed and continued walking. “Of course they don’t move Siri, they’re paintings.” you replied. 

Sirius opened his mouth, looking like he was going to question you, but Remus nudged him and shook his head at Sirius, halting him from asking any more silly questions. 

You reached the lobby of the regal hotel you were to stay at. Remus told the three of you to wait, that he would check in and grab the keys. You hung back with Sirius and James and talked about all the fun animals you saw. James was recalling a particular shark that he liked when Remus returned to the group.

“Uh, small problem,” He started, making the three of you turn your attention to him, “There's been a mix up with the rooms.”

You furrowed your brows, what kind of mix up could there possibly be? You thought you booked everything correctly. “What do you mean ‘mix up’?” you asked.

Remus sighed. “Well uh, instead of two rooms with two beds each, there’s two rooms with one bed.”

“Oh,” you said. “That’s not a problem, we can share, right?” you looked at the other boys. They nodded in agreement.

“Ok, how do we want to split the rooms then?” Remus asked.

“I’ll go with Y/N.” James said in a rush.

Sirius looked at him and scoffed. “That is like calling dibs on someone, you can't-”

“I didn't call dibs on her, I just said-”James interrupted. They began talking over each other.

“-Look, personally, I think it’s just unfair if-”

“-shut up Sirius”

“James kicks in his sleep.” Sirius turned to comment to you.

“Do not!” James defended himself

“Yes you do! Tell that to all the bruises I have acquired over the years!” Sirius shot back at him.

“Maybe I kick because you toss and turn constantly-” James was interrupted again, this time by Remus.

“Boys,” he said calmly, having had to break up these types of arguments many times, “How about we let Y/N decide who she wants to room with, yeah?”

With that, all the attention was now directed at you. “Oh. I don’t mind, I can share with whoever,” you said, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings by picking one person over the other two. 

Remus sighed and turned to the other two boys. He muttered something to them and they all agreed by nodding, then broke into a game of stick and stones. This made you giggle, so incredibly childish of them, but so incredibly amusing to you. You thought for a moment that maybe they were playing to see who would be stuck with you, that maybe none of them actually wanted to share a bed with you. But this theory of yours was proven wrong when Remus was eliminated and swore at the other two. You giggled again.

James and Sirius continued until Sirius groaned and threw his head back, James laughing in victory. He swung an arm around you and said, “Looks like you’re stuck with me tonight, love.” James grabbed one room key from Remus, and started to lead you two to your room. 

Before you made it very far, Sirius whispered to you “I’m not joking he kicks.”

You smiled and bid Remus and Sirius goodnight before making your way to your room.

James, always the gentleman, carried your bag for you and opened the door for you when you reached the correct room. You shuffled in and took a look around. The room was quite big and luxurious. 

The bed was king sized, so you were a little more relieved. You walked in and plopped yourself right in the middle of it. James set your bag down and looked around the room as well. 

“Oh uh, I can sleep on the floor or something by the way. I’m sure there’s extra pillows and blankets in the closet.” He said.

You sat up and looked at him. “No! Don’t be ridiculous James, I’m not making you sleep on the floor.” you laughed. “Besides, there’s plenty of room for both of us in this bed.” you pat the spot next to you.

James was blushing but trying to play it cool. “Ok, as long as you’re ok…”

You rolled your eyes at him but smiled. He sat on the bed next to you.

“So is it true?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Is what true?” he asked back.

You laughed and replied “That you kick.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No… I mean maybe. How should I know I’m asleep.” he laughed.

“Have you and Sirius shared a bed a lot? I mean… for him to bring it up…” you said, trying to not make it seem like you were asking something too personal. You have seen them laying together often on the couch… you knew they were close and often brushed it off as something they did as friends, that they were just cuddling and affectionate. But know… know you weren’t too sure, with Sirius’s comment and all. Maybe they were more than friends…

James chuckled again and thought for a moment. Then he replied, “Yeah we have… when we were younger, in school, he would climb into my bed a lot when… well, Sirius doesn’t have a particularly great family. So when he would get sad or stressed or… I don’t know… if he’d have any feelings relating to it, he’d often climb in my bed. We’d talk about it, or sometimes just lay there, then eventually we would fall asleep.” he turned to you to continue. “Then when he was about 16, he ran away from home and came to live with me. For a while we only had one bed,” he laughed, “but we didn’t really mind. It wasn’t until Remus came to live with us that we all got our separate rooms.”

“Wait,” you said a bit confused, “Remus came to live with you too?”

James nodded. “Yeah, a little while after Sirius did. Remus also has… a complicated family history. So yeah… we’ve all shared beds but… I guess we just like to be close to each other.”

You felt so bad, so guilty for bringing it up. You thought that maybe… but it was actually much worse, sadder. “Oh…” you said, because that was really the only thing you could say. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring-”

“Oh no! It’s fine.” James stopped you. “We're all the better for it.” He smiled.

You nodded but still felt a little bad. You hopped up and told him you were going to shower quickly. He said alright and that he would find something to watch for the two of you. Showereng, you still felt awful for assuming that maybe they had slept together, when in reality, they were just boys who were affectionate, and… ugh.

You dried off and changed into some comfy clothes, stepping out into the cold bedroom.

James was already in some sleeping pants and a hoodie, leaning back on the headboard, staring at the tv screen. “I found two movies we could watch either Jurassic World or Mulan, but if I had to pick… I’d wanna watch Jurassic World.” he said, looking at you with pleading eyes.

“You really liked the dinosaur exhibit today didn’t you?” you laughed.

“I really liked the dinosaur exhibit.” he echoed and smiled at you, turning the movie on.

You climbed into bed right alongside him, also leaning against the headboard. You two watched the movie and talked for a while longer before either of you got tired. It was midnight when both of you decided to sleep, knowing that it would be an early morning.

“Y/N?” James’s voice sounded from beside you.

“Hmm” you answered, trying to get comfortable.

“Is it ok if I take my shirt off?” he asked.

You froze completely. James was incredibly fit and you would be lying if you said you didn’t love the thought of sleeping next to him shirtless. But it was just like him to ask before doing it, to make sure he wasn’t making you uncomfortable at all.

“U-uh yeah go for it.” you stammered. Thank god he had already turned off the lights or else he would see the red hue staining your face. 

He pulled off his hoodie and threw it across the room. You turned onto your side, away from him as you heard him say “Goodnight Y/N”.

“Goodnight,” you replied.

You couldn’t sleep immediately, the one reason being that you were under the AC, which, after being in the shower, made you so much colder. You tried to pull the comforter up more, but James turned to you.

“You alright, love?” he asked.

“Yeah, just cold.” you said, trying to keep your teeth from chattering. James got up and found his hoodie from where he threw it and handed it to you.

“Oh no,” you began to protest, but it was no use, he was already bunching it up over your head. You gave in and let him slip the warm fabric over your body.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little,” you said as he climbed back into bed, truthfully, it did help, but you were still slightly cold.

You felt the bed shift, then felt his arms around you. If you weren't blushing before, you definitely were now. You made to protest, to say that it was ok and that he didn’t have to but before you could get a word out James shushed you.

“Shh, I run very warm.” he said sleepily, and it was true. He was like a human furnace, like a heated blanket wrapped around you.

You smiled and curled up to get more comfortable. You must have accidentally brushed James’s leg while doing so because he let out a yelp then a laugh.

“Why are your feet so cold!” he whisper shouted, making you giggle and apologize.

“I run very cold.” you joked. 

You both layed there, getting warm and dozing off. You wished you could feel it every night, it was like the sun was shining perfectly on you, you could get used to this. But he was your roommate and you didn’t want to make anything weird between you all, even if that meant never feeling warm enough in bed again.

i hope this is good... idk. also james got what he wanted from last part lmao

Taglist💌: @too-efn-old-to-be-here @cometsghost @eeviee4 @giuli-in-earth @spicybearnaise @the-lavender-girl @adharalikethestar @champomiel @itsleroyposts @enamoredwithbella @babymash @ilovejamespottersomuch @liszblog @sammyreid @kiaslily @idkman5335 @willowlovestheweasleys @lady-balem

[dorabellingham]

Boyfriend material

headcanon

characters: jude x fem!reader

may contain spelling and translation errors!

1. Affectionate in small gestures

Jude is the kind of boyfriend who pays attention to small details and uses them to surprise you. He remembers your favorite coffee, the way you like your blankets made, or how you like your eggs scrambled. No matter how busy he is with games and practices, he always finds time to send you messages like:

“Just a reminder that you are amazing. Can’t wait to see you later.”

“I love you so much babe, remember to eat and drink water. Counting down the hours until I see you.”

2. Protective, but just right

Jude is naturally protective. He holds your hand in crowds, walks outside on sidewalks, and his gaze automatically scans for anything that might make you uncomfortable. He’s not controlling, but if someone crosses the line, like making disrespectful comments, his smile disappears and he deals with the situation firmly and respectfully.

3. Romantic at heart

Jude specializes in surprises. He doesn't wait for special occasions to show his love; he might show up with flowers because he saw one that reminded you of one, or organize an outdoor picnic for a quiet moment away from the cameras. When he's traveling, he'll write you notes and leave them hidden around the house for you to find while he's away.

"Hi, sweetie, if you found this note, it means I'm almost home. Love you!"

4. Unconditional support

No matter what your dream or struggle, Jude is there to support you. He listens attentively when you share your ideas or concerns, offers advice when asked, and is your biggest cheerleader in any endeavor. During difficult times, he is your rock, always transmitting calm and security.

5. Playful manner

Jude has an infectious sense of humor. He loves to make inside jokes, tickle you unexpectedly, and come up with cute and silly nicknames. Sometimes, he'll even steal food from your plate just to watch you complain, and then laugh, returning the forkful with a mischievous look.

"Hey babe, I think I'm in the mood for some of your dessert... How about sharing it with me, huh?"

6. Family first

He loves spending time with his family and includes you in everything. From quiet evenings watching TV with his parents to lively lunches with his brother Jobe, Jude makes sure you feel like you’re part of his personal life.

“Honey, my mom invited us to have lunch with her tomorrow, do you want to go with me?”

7. Undivided attention

Even though he's a star, when he's with his girlfriend, he have you undivided attention. Jude is the type of guy who puts his phone on airplane mode during a dinner date or a lazy afternoon and makes sure to maintain eye contact during conversations, showing that you're a priority.

8. A little jealous, but adorable

Jude trusts you, but he can't help but feel a touch of jealousy when someone is too obvious about flirting. He doesn't cause a scene, but his arm around you becomes tighter, and he makes a point of referring to you as "my girl" in conversation.

9. Loves routine

He loves the little things: sharing a couch to watch a bad movie, cooking together, and even going out to buy last-minute groceries. For Jude, anything with you is better than the most glamorous life without you.

"Babe, how about we watch a movie together tonight? It's raining and I wanted to stay with you."

10. Proud

Jude always finds a way to show you how special you are. Whether in public or in private, he doesn't hide how much he admires you and makes sure you know how amazing he thinks you are.

"I think everyone should know that I have the most amazing girlfriend in the entire world!"

[wallabywhump]

Post Episode 8x08 CODA/Continuation

Content: Light angst, Buck spiralling, Buck's abandonment issues/running thoughts/(has ADHD), BuckTommy hints at the end.

Word Count: 1,965

Started writing this when the episode ended, please enjoy!

---

The sign goes out front of Eddie's house two weeks later, Buck helps to dig the hole. Buck helps talk to the realtor. Buck talks Eddie down from a three-bed home with an attic office in a HOA suburb and helps him find a respectably sized two bed that will leave him with money to renovate the bathroom and add a ramp up to the door.

Buck bakes a million cookies and eats them while Eddie has meetings with realtors. He sets out sweet breads and muffins when Eddie has an open house, and he happily serves them to people, "yes, there is a gluten free option! I was playing around with xanthan gum, so it shouldn't- oh, you're too kind."

All through it all, Buck focuses on Eddie, and he tries to ignore the ball of panic that's growing and growing and growing, as Eddie calls his mom and dad, and talks to Chris, and they're discussing going to view the home together and-

"I'll be there in two days, buddy!" Eddie says to Chris, a smile wide on his face while he put the autographed picture of the Hotshots cast into a wallet to keep it safe. "I can't wait to see you; we can talk without it lagging."

Buck takes a deep breath.

"Buck's not coming, LA won't survive if we both are off work."

Buck takes the butter off the heat, starts mixing in the sugar.

"I was talking it over with Grandpa, and we can go to the aquarium while I'm there. I'll even get to cheer you on in your chess match."

Chris groans. "You don't cheer during chess matches, dad, you have to be quiet."

Eddie laughs, and Buck needs to savor that sound. Needs to bottle up the sound of his best friend, and the kid he loves to the moon and back, teasing each other because he doesn't know how long he'll have this for. "Well, okay, you'll just have to teach me what to do, Mijo. I've never been to a chess match before."

The flour comes out of the microwave and Buck mixes that in, the soothing fold-fold-fold making his raging heart beat easier to ignore.

"You've never played chess before," Chris teases.

Buck spares a glance at Eddie, and he's fondly smiling at the tablet, and he says, "Well, you'll have to teach that too. Need to understand how you're winning, kid."

Buck is trying his best to be happy for Eddie, desperately putting his issues to the side, he hasn't even mentioned Tommy with all the baking he's been doing.

Eddie, graciously, hasn't mentioned how Buck has gone back to how he was the exact week after Tommy dumped him.

Or perhaps Eddie hasn't noticed with all the preparation and the legal jargon and clearing out everything to make the house look pretty for viewings, and Buck-

Buck really wants to talk to someone.

Eddie's leaving, Bobby is busy building a house, Hen, Maddie, Chimney-

Everyone's moving forward towards something happier. And Buck's stuck trying not to tie his best friend to a city with his sad puppy dog eyes and a pout, all while missing his ex so much that focusing on Eddie leaving drowns out that pain and fills it with something different.

"Buck?"

Buck jumps, dropping his spatula into the bowl. "Huh? W-What's-"

"Chris hung up, he's got school tomorrow."

Buck picks his spatula up, continues mixing his cookie dough. It's as he folds a third time that he notices he forgot the chocolate chips.

"More cookies?"

Buck forces a smile on his face, ignores the floundering puttering in his heart that tells him he needs to call someone before this becomes unsustainable. Baking isn't distracting him, it's not-

He wants Eddie to stay, he wants Chris to come home, he wants a barbecue in Bobby's backyard with his family-

He wants to call Tommy.

"It's for the viewing tomorrow," Buck says, proud of how even his voice sounds, how it doesn't even sound like a lie.

Eddie sidles up to the counter, looking into the bowl. "You don't have to try buttering up potential buyers with sugary goods. I know you set a precedent for the first one, but I don't want you to feel like you have to."

Buck puts the bowl and spatula down and bumps his hip into Eddie's as he starts greasing up the pan. "If I sweeten them up, maybe they'll actually buy, and you can leave quicker."

The free-sounding tease is easy, it's easy to fake, it's been easy to fake since that day he picked up the tablet and saw the houses. It's been easy to fake since Tommy dumped him, and he had to crawl out of his home and go to work and look somewhat put together, so no-one was scared on their calls. It's been easy to fake since Abby left him at the airport, and with a home that wasn't quite his, and an uneasy feeling in his heart that she wasn't coming back. It's been easy to fake since he was sixteen years old, and Maddie was leaving and-

Maddie, Abby, Tommy, Eddie.

People leave, and that's okay, and it's selfish to force them to stay. No matter how much he wished they would choose to stay.

Buck scoops out a glob of dough and drops it onto his pan.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Okay, bud, I'm gonna have a beer while you finish with...that."

Buck sets up the mixer to bake a cake after he puts the cookies in the oven.

---

Buck drops Eddie off at the airport and spirals.

The goodbye wave feels robotic, despite knowing that Eddie will be back in a week, even if it's just to start packing up his life to move it hours away. His phone sits in the dock on the dash, and Buck-

Buck doesn't have anything to distract himself from the yawning emptiness inside him.

Nothing to put his mind to, nothing to focus on, just a whole lot of nothing.

The nothing that has been eating away at every positive thought and coping skill he'd put into trying to ignore how much he missed Tommy. The way Tommy would rub his arm and pull him in for a hug when he was feeling low. How Tommy would sarcastically tease him when his anxiety spiked, until Buck couldn't even remember he'd been anxious. How they could sit in silence and not have to chat, and it was just peaceful, and it put Buck at ease, and Tommy wouldn't even mention when Buck's leg started tapping, he'd just put a hand on Buck's knee and lean his weight into-

Fuck.

Tommy would have been a rock through this, platitudes about Eddie not being dead, stop panicking. "I can fly a helicopter, babe, just say the word and you can visit."

Except, Tommy isn't his rock anymore. He's a hurricane that has Buck unmoored and swirling in an abyss of panic and loneliness and, fuck, shit, fuck, Buck has to talk to someone. Or bake something. Or go to the middle of nowhere, with no reception, and scream at the sky.

Everyone's busy. Eddie's on a plane. No-one...he has-

"Buck?"

Buck jolts, staring down at the phone now in his hand, Tommy's face filling the screen, his nose scrunched and looking confused, concerned and cold all in one expression.

So closed off.

"I-I didn't mean to call," Buck whispers, his voice weak and thready even to his own ears. "Hi. Uh, I'll just, uh, hang up."

Except Buck doesn't, he stares at Tommy and feels his heart stutter.

Tommy raises an eyebrow, and Buck watches the cold melt off Tommy's face, leaving only confusion and concern.

"What's happening, Buck?"

"I...just dropped Eddie off at the airport, and I'm sitting at the drop off spot in the taxi ranks, and-"

Tommy's confusion disappears, and his eyes soften, and he's openly concerned and it's like a knife in Buck's chest.

Buck lets out a hoarse laugh. "I've held it in for weeks, not calling, and my best friend leaves and it's like I can't help it- Jesus." Buck runs a hand down his face, he feels like a mess.

"Why did you call me, Buck?"

Because it was habit for six months straight, because every time Buck's been sad since the breakup he's had to physically remove himself from his phone to stop himself from calling Tommy, because Buck just wants to have Tommy as his, and he can't seem to move on despite everyone else seeming able to.

"Everyone else...is moving forward, making families and living their lives, but I'm-"

Buck should hang up, forget about this, say 'sorry, bye asshole', and block Tommy's number once and for all.

Except-

"I'm stuck, stuck on that day in my loft, wondering what happened and how that occurred, and all I've wanted since the day it happened was to call you and fix it or-or, I don't know...I just feel so incomplete here. Unsatisfied. Nothing-nothing makes sense."

Buck rolls on.

"And Eddie told me not to call, so I didn't, except then Eddie decided he wanted to move to Texas and I couldn't be selfish and ask him to stay, so instead I've been helping him, helping him leave my life, because then at least I helped control it."

Buck chokes up.

"Because he's an adult with different priorities, and he can make his own decisions and it's my job as a friend to support him, and I guess you'd know that too if you still talked to him, or hey, maybe he would have stayed for you." He's fucking it up, finally got Tommy on the phone and rather than giving Tommy all the reasons they could work, and he should stay, he's dumping all his fears about Eddie leaving. "And I- I'm not making sense, I'm all over the place, this is not what I wanted to say at all, I had a whole speech about how I love you, and I deserved better, and-"

"Are you safe to drive?" Tommy asks, his voice cutting through Buck's monologue.

Buck bites his lip and nods his head. Of course, Tommy doesn't want to hear about his problems, they're broken up.

"Yeah, yeah, I..." Buck sniffs, wipes at his face despite it being dry, and forces a smile on his face. "I'm just a little sad, sorry for calling."

Tommy shakes his head, and he looks like he's in physical pain, and God, Buck feels like an asshole. He's so selfish, and he should have just thrown his phone out and got a new number after the breakup if he knew he was just going to trample over boundaries.

"No, don't be s- I mean, okay, okay. This sounds like- Eddie left? No, this is a conversation for in person," Tommy sounds just as confused and lost as Buck, which isn't nice, because Buck expects Tommy to be a rock, to be steady, to be- well, that went out the window the night they broke up.

"In person?" Buck wonders aloud.

Tommy hums, and his nose scrunches up, and he puts a finger to the bridge of his nose. The video feed is shaking like the phone in his hand is shaking. Buck swallows and waits for whatever emotional turmoil Tommy is experiencing to pass.

"Drive yourself to mine," Tommy orders.

Buck stares at the screen in shock. "W-What? Tommy, I- no, I-" A taxi starts honking their horn behind him.

"Mine," Tommy repeats, sure, and despite everything it makes that emptiness in Buck feel a little smaller, like Tommy is filling it with just the promise of a conversation. "Sounds like you need to get going. See you soon, Evan."

Tommy hangs up, and Buck spirals, but he starts the car anyway and drives to Tommy's with a spark of something in his chest.

[the-froschamethyst4]

“We can’t keep him”

𖤐Pairing: Ghost x F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, cowboy! Ghost, children, married couple, kissing, harsh background, mention of abuse, mention of a miscarriage and infidelity, happy ending (I promise),

𖤐Summary: Y/n has a family member that has been in the hospital for some time and this was the first time she sees them and finds about their secret child and brings them home to Ghost

————

————

Y/n Riley, a gentle and kind woman who's done no wrong in her life, but she's here at the hospital after being told her cousin was in the hospital after a fatal car accident, Y/n hasn't gone to see him in the 3 weeks she was notified, she was either busy or didn't want to see the person she called family all torn and beat up.

She stood in the doorway of the hospital room and saw her cousin, he was barely holding on, she couldn't even recognize him. She excused herself and heads to the small courtyard, tears running down her face, fists curled and pushed into her eyes wishing she didn't see what she just saw.

As she sat on the bench, she looks down at her feet, as tears land on her thighs.

"You stay here," a woman who sounded angry pushed a young boy on the bench Y/n was on, and she walked off. Y/n was still sniffling but wiped the tears from her face.

"Why are you crying?" The boy asked.

"What happened to your face?" Y/n tried to change the question. The boy has a bruised eye, a busted lip and some dried blood under his nose.

"Nothing," he says.

"Then I'm not crying," she says.

"My dad's here," he says.

"Oh yeah? What happened?"

"Car accident..."

"Car...accident?"

"Yeah," he says, wiping under his nose.

"W-What's his name?" She was scared for the answer.

"Martin L/n."

"Fuck..." Y/n then looks at the ground leaning back on the bench, she then turns to look at the boy. "How...old are you?"

"12," he says.

"Martin," she groans leaning back. "What about your name?"

"Silas."

"Who...who was that woman? Your mom?"

"No, definitely not," he says. "She's my caseworker."

"Caseworker? Something wrong?"

"...Guess you don't know anything about him."

"What did he do?" Now she curious but is also rightfully pissed off at Martin. He was usually a nice and caring man, why does his son have a caseworker?

"He-"

"Silas! Come on, you have to see him." His caseworker yells from the door. Silas doesn't say anything and gets off the bench and heads to the door.

Y/n takes a deep breath and walks to the door as well, going back to the room.

"Who are you? Why are you in here?" The caseworker says.

"Martin is my cousin," Y/n said.

"O-Oh," she doubles down.

"Can he have some privacy to say goodbye?" Y/n looks at the doctor.

"I mean we would but we have a policy that doesn't allow us to leave the room-"

"Your policy is shit and his son should be allowed to say his goodbye, without a doctor or caseworker around," Y/n says. The doctor just nods and motions the caseworker to also leave.

Silas looks at Y/n and then back at his dad on his death bed. Silas plays with his fingers and then looks back at him again.

"You suck as a father..." well that stunned Y/n. "Beat me, left me at school too many times then I can count, left me with that bitch of a caseworker...I hope you rot in hell, and if there's a hell on Earth, I'm already on it," he turns and walks out of the hospital room, Y/n could hear his caseworker call after him.

"Martin...I've don't know what you've done to that poor boy, but you...I'm glad you're leaving, I don't know what you've been doing for the past 6 years, but I know...you deserved this...I loved you, my cousin, but I hate you," Y/n grabbed her purse and walks out of the room, going to her car and starting it up, not before hitting her wheel and screaming out of anger.

--------------

Going home to her husband, Ghost, he sat on the front porch watching her walk up the stairs like she was tired and her eyes were red and puffy, and Ghost opened his arms for her to sit on his lap and she snuggled to his chest.

"Guessing it didn't go that well?"

"He has a son, Si."

"A son? Since when?"

"12 years. He's had a son for 12 years and didn't say anything to anyone, no one knew...he must have hurt that boy for too long."

"Why do you say that?"

"He has a caseworker, Si, no child has a caseworker unless something has happened to that child."

"What's the kid's name?"

"Silas...he's 12...and all I know from what he said to Martin as a good bye was that he basically hates him...and I do too, Si, Martin lied to us, he was never kind or gentle, he was monster behind closed doors."

Ghost held Y/n close and kissed her temple, he rocks back and forth on the rocking chair sitting on the front porch, the silent rain hitting the top of the roof and on the ground.

-----------------

It's been a week now, Y/n washing dishes as Ghost was getting back from feeding the cows, when he sees a truck pull into the driveway, he kept his composure hands on his belt as he watched the Sheriff come out of the truck.

"Evening Sheriff."

"Evening Ghost, I have something."

"What is it?"

"Not what, who."

"Y/N!!" Ghost yells from outside, Y/n stopped what she was doing drying her hands and coming outside.

"Yes?" She opens her door and sees Silas being held by the hoodie by the Sheriff. "Silas?"

"So you know him."

"Yeah...I do...he's my cousins son. I met him a few weeks ago." The Sheriff released Silas and he went to the tailgate of the truck.

"What did he do?" She asked.

"Stealing."

"Where's his caseworker?"

"Said he didn't want to call her, and said you're his legal guardian." He says. Y/n looks at Silas and takes a deep breath.

"We don't have kids, Sheriff." Ghost says.

"Si...can I have a word with my husband?" Y/n pulls Ghost to the front porch.

"So, that's Silas."

"Yeah...Simon, he doesn't have a home...his only family just died, and if they call his caseworker, he'll go to Foster care."

"Love, it's for the best he goes-"

"No, Simon...you've been in his position before," she taps her fingers into his chest.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" She knew what she was doing.

"We can't...keep him, we know nothing on what a child needs."

"I know he needs a home, right now, parents to take care of him."

"What about his mom?"

"Doesn't know her."

Ghost then takes a deep breath as he looks at Silas swing his feet back and forth on the tailgate and then looks back down at his wife.

"If he stays here, he works," Ghost says.

"Fine, he could use some muscle on him anyways," Y/n walks off the porch and walks to the tailgate where Silas was. "You can stay...if you stay here you work on the farm with my husband, don't worry he's not as bad as he may seems."

The Sheriff had took off a while ago leaving Silas in the care of Y/n and Ghost. Ghost sees Silas at the porch, he seemed like he was going to follow Y/n into the house but stopped him from going in.

"Where you going?" Ghost asked.

"Inside, I'm cold," he says.

"Not just yet, I still haven't fed the pigs, yet, you get to help me with them, and from then on the pigs will now be your responsibility."

"Pigs? Yeah, okay-what I get to move up from the pigs whenever you tell me to?"

"You catch up quick, get your ass moving," Ghost says, showing Silas where he has to go.

Silas goes first walking to the pig pin, Ghost opens the gate and sends Silas inside.

"Grab that bucket. Fill it with slop."

"Slop?"

"That shit right there. It's kitchen scraps, rotten fruit and vegetables," Silas removed the lid on top of the bucket of slop, Silas gags at the smell and puts the bucket inside the slop and scooped out a full bucket full.

Silas continues to gag as he walks to the pigs that crowded around his feet, making him hard to walk around them.

"Push them."

"Push them? They're heavier than me," Silas says.

"Push them," Ghost repeats. Silas used his knee to push the pigs away so he could get to their bowl to dumb everything into it. Once he gets to the bowl and pours everything in, he drops the bucket and goes to the gate where Ghost was.

"Ah, who said you're done?"

"What?"

"You gonna wash Bessy over there."

"Bessy?" Bessy was a big Vietnamese pot-bellied pig. Ghost told Silas that she's probably had about 6 different liters and won 7 blue ribbons at the county fair, she is a force to reckon with, and gets the most dirty out of all the other pigs in the pin.

Silas grabs the hose from the side of the pin turning the water on and spraying Bessy with it, but what Ghost didn't tell Silas was that Bessy hates water and you basically gotta run after her and trap her to wash her.

Silas ran around the pin trying to block Bessy from running, Ghost just laughs at him, Silas then tackles the pig and ended up taking Bessy down with him, he curses and grabs the hose to wash Bessy.

"What the hell is going on? I called for dinner 5 minutes ago!" Y/n says, marching to her husband and Silas. She sees Silas all mudding and dirty, he kind of looks embarrassed to have Y/n looking at him like this.

Y/n slaps Ghost's arm, who wasn't fazed by her smack, but did look at her.

"Why is he in there with them?"

"Cause I didn't get to feed them, so he's doing it, he's now in charge of them."

"Silas, come on, go inside and clean up, dinner is ready." She says, looking annoyed at Simon. Silas walks out of the pin kicking his shoes off at the front door not wanting to trudge mug into the nice and clean house.

"Simon-"

"He's a boy, he's going to get dirty, weather he likes it or not, and the deal was, he lives here, he works here."

"I know that but-"

"But nothing, there is no but," he says. "Come on...thought dinner was ready?"

---------------

Silas took a nice hot shower, coming down in clothes Y/n could find for him, some old sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

"Thanks."

"Sorry, I didn't have any clothes to fit you, we can go shopping tomorrow, or do you have clothes back at your home?"

"I need new ones..." he picks at the food not wanting to talk more and Y/n didn't push him, but Ghost just stares at the boy and then at his wife, he sees how similar they look, same hair color, those same colored eyes, but Silas was more quiet, rebellious. Y/n gentle, can be stubborn, and a pain in Simon's ass sometimes.

"I need him around the farm tomorrow," Ghost jumps in and looks down at his dinner eating it.

"You have help. Thought Soap, Price and Alejandro were coming?"

"They are-"

"Then you can wait, it won't take long, he needing new things is a bit more important," Silas looks at the couple talking, he leans back into the chair not eating, it caught Ghost's attention.

"Eat kid," he says.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

"Why?" He pushes.

"Simon, enough...you don't have to if you don't want to...or if you want...we can eat in silence, no more talking about anything," she says, looking at Silas. Silas has never gotten that look before, it was the look of someone who cared, and not angry, Ghost wasn't angry nor annoyed, he's just not use to someone else in his home let alone a kid he's now responsible for.

They ate in silence like Y/n said, Silas had finished first and was excuse to walk around the house and explore if he wanted to. He stumbles upon a room, pushing the door open and seeing it was a nursery. Why would there be a nursery in the house with no kids but him?

He looks around the room was filled with pink things, the walls painted a soft pink color, he looks around when seeing the name 'Luna' on the wall.

"We were going to have a baby at some point," Ghost says, making Silas jump.

"I-I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine kid..." Ghost comes in slightly closing the door behind him. "My wife was pregnant a while back," he walks to the empty crib in the middle of the room.

"She had a miscarriage around 6 months...she has every right to be more upset than me, we've just kept this room shut and off limits, she was scared to remove everything, so we've left the room alone...we tried for another baby a while back but...my wife...she can't get pregnant..." he looks down at Silas. "Promise me, kid...you act and treat her like a mother, she's doing you a favor by staying here with us, she could told that Sheriff to take you to your caseworker, so be fucking glade," he says.

Silas nods and leaves the room. As Silas leaves and continues down the hall he sees another door opened and Y/n was inside setting up the bed for him.

"Oh, here, you'll be staying in the guest bedroom," she says. She leaves him alone in the bedroom as she makes her way down the hall and sees Simon coming out of the nursery, Y/n's heart clenched in her chest as she looks at him.

"He was in here."

"Oh." She looks at the door at the end of the hall slowly closing. Y/n looks up at Simon and felt tears in her eyes when she thinks about her baby. Simon knew what was coming and picked her up and taking her to their bedroom.

------------------

Silas woke up to a chicken near his window pecking at the glass and then hears the door creak open.

"Get up, Kid," Ghost says. Silas groans and sits up looking at Ghost in his doorway.

"Thought I was going shopping?" He says.

"Oh you are," Y/n pops her head in. "Simon is just being an asshole."

"Am not, we're up, so he can be up-"

"He can sleep in if he wants to," Y/n shuts the door and pulls Simon away from his door. "You have to leave him alone, he's a child, coming from a rough home already, he doesn't need you in his face or business all the time."

"Love-"

"Don't 'love' me, he's just a kid, you also have friends coming to work with you, you can wait till he gets back." She says, pushing him out of the hallway and onto the first stair.

"Sorry to interrupt but...I have no clothes," Silas calls from the end of the hall.

"I'll get you some," Y/n gives him a smile and then a quick glare at her husband, pushing past him and going to look for more clothes.

She brings up a t-shirt and some jeans. "I think the jeans might be a little big on you," he comes out of the bedroom and Y/n was right. She bends down on to roll up the pant legs and made them look good, then with a thud next to her, there were some old cowboy boots, Simon had found.

"Si."

"Found those in storage," he says. "Unroll that boys pants, he'll look stupid with his jeans tucked in." Y/n rolls her eyes and fixed them how they were before, once Silas got his boots on and put the jeans over the boots, he looked good.

"There," Y/n says. "Perfect, now, come on, let's go see what we can get ya'."

"The boy doesn't need more then 5 shirt, 4 jeans, 12 underwear and 15 pairs of socks." Simon says from the front porch.

"Why so many underwear?" Silas asks from the front seat.

"Because I said so," Simon says.

"I'll get him as much shit as I want to," Y/n says, pulling out of the driveway.

"You two got a kid now?" Soap asked from sitting on top of his horse.

"He's part of Y/n's family, so, I made a deal saying if he stays here, he works here, he doesn't have any clothes, so they're going, he'll be back to take care of the pigs."

-------------

"How do those feel?" Y/n asked, while she held shirts, and pants, in her arms, she looks down at Silas who was feeling around for his toe.

"They're tight."

"You're not use to them yet," she says. "Do you like them?"

"Yeah," Silas had picked out two pair of boots, a real fancy pair that he promised Y/n he won't wear out in the field but if they go somewhere fancy, then a pair that he'll be using in the pig pin.

"Alright, let's go pay," putting everything on the counter and Y/n paid, Silas looks around the store, seeing some belts, he doesn't have any, but Ghost's black leather belt was on Silas' mind.

He finds one, almost similar to Ghost's belt, he takes it off the rack and goes to the counter.

"And this," he says.

"A belt?"

"I don't have one..." Silas says.

"True alright."

"You want a buckle one it, son?" The old man ringing them out says. Silas looks at the glass case and sees the wide range of buckles.

"That one." Pointing to the one that just a long horn on it.

"Sure." Y/n smiles at Silas as she pays for everything.

-------------

"Don't let, Simon get under your skin, Silas. He's just not use to a kid being in the house."

"Is he always grumpy?"

"Yeah, just about."

"How'd you even marry someone like him?"

Y/n giggles. "He wasn't always like that," she says.

"He was nice?" Silas sounded shocked.

"He still is." She says, laughing.

"Nah, no, I haven't seen him been nice yet."

"It'll take him a while, Silas, it won't happen instantly."

-----------------

When getting home Silas sees the guys reangling up some cows, he looks at them and walks to the fence, sitting on it and watching them.

"Silas," Simon then points to the pigs. Without a fight Silas gets to the pigs, but he could still watch them.

Y/n walks to the pin and watches Silas, dumping the slop in the bowl and grabbing the hose for Bessy, Silas just knows he's going to hate doing this. He chases Bessy in the pin, she squeals loudly as Silas chases the pig, the guys all stopped to watch watch Silas, they either cheered for Silas or for Bessy.

Silas then tackles Bessy like last time taking her down and starts hosing her off. The guys all cheered and Silas felt slightly embarrassed but then felt great that he was getting cheers from the guys.

He looks at Y/n as she just gives him a soft smile.

"Come on, back to work," Ghost says.

------------

Silas helped Y/n in the kitchen, cleaning, washing dishes and then making dinner for them once Ghost was done with the chores around the farm.

Silas had looked outside seeing Ghost coming up to the house, he keeps washing the dishes as Y/n puts everything down to go to the front door and wait for Ghost to open the door. Once he did kicking his boots off at the front, his arms went around her waist and holds her tightly.

Silas watched them, he knew these two were a happy couple, and they were like every other couple, getting into fights and then making up, he watched how Ghost was gentle with her.

"What's for dinner?" Ghost asked looking at Silas and then down at his wife.

"Chicken and mash potatoes," she says. "Something simple."

"What clothes did you get," Ghost asked, looking at Silas.

Silas without another word went to the room he was staying in and brought down the bags. Ghost starts looking through them and pulled some of the shirts out along with some jeans.

"New belt?"

"Yeah, I need one."

"Looks like mine," he says.

"Yeah," Silas looks down and Ghost just smiles a little.

"Fine, looks good, more shirt then I said," he says, looking at Y/n who's back was turned to him.

"I'm allowed to get him as many shirts as he wants," she says.

"New boots, I saw," he says.

"And?" He doesn't say anything, knowing what he might say, she'll give him attitude and make a good point. "That's what I thought," she says. "Anyways, dinner is ready."

----------------

Silas and Ghost sat on the front porch together, it was silent for a long time but soon Ghost started talking.

"So, kid...how was your relationship with your dad?" He asked, he was blunt, and Silas learned that already.

"Not that great, I guess," he says.

"You guess?"

"My dad did drugs...chose drugs and women over his own kid, yet, I don't know my mother, if I knew my mother...I don't think I'd be here with you two, and there is no telling how crazy she is!" Silas says, leaning back in the rocking chair.

"That's like my dad...my mom was my...hero, I guess, she stood up for me all the time, my dad did drug and was an alcoholic...I never had a good relationship with him..."

"What happened to them?"

"My mom passed away from a heart attack, and my dad overdosed on fentanyl and my brother Tommy died from drugs as well...it's just me..."

"How'd you meet, Y/n?"

"Y/n," when Ghost said her name he smiled and looked at the night sky and bright stars. "She is my fucking world, even though he 'get into fights' she is my everything, I will do anything and everything for her...I met her by a friend of mine, Soap, he showed a photo of her to me because he said 'I needed to get out there' and he set up a blind date for us...we hit it off and got married to each other in 6 months."

"6 months?!"

"Yeah...crazy," he says, chuckling. It stayed silent again till Silas spoke.

"...Am I staying here?" He asked Ghost. Ghost took a deep breath and sighed.

"It's up to Y/n...you said she's your guardian...that's more up to Y/n then me," he says.

"And he is," Y/n came out of the house, she sits on the arm of Ghost's rocking chair, his arm wrapped around her waist and resting on her hip. "You will stay here...I don't want you going off to Foster care and not know anything about your family. I'm your family now, Simon is your family now..." she cups his chin getting him to look at her. "And I sure as hell will do everything in my power to keep you here, no one will come and take you from us, do you understand?" Silas nods his head.

"If you also stay here, we've got some ground rules for you," Ghost says.

"Like what?"

"One is no stealing, if you get caught again, we're not coming to get you," Ghost says.

"He is right, I don't want to see your mug anywhere," Y/n said.

"Got it."

"You work till I say you're done, you may have the pigs as a responsibility but you also have the goats, sheep and chickens, you pull your weight around here."

As Ghost talks with Silas about the ground rules, Y/n had gotten up and left them to keep talking. Ghost seemed to make a new best friend and Silas knows what love feels like now.

[kinzhae]

He Only Dated You For Your Sister

Gojo X Fem!Reader

You always thought love would save you. That it would sweep in and make everything hurt less—less lonely, less empty, less… you. And for a while, with Satoru Gojo, it felt like it had.

He wasn’t just charming; he was magnetic. His presence filled every space, his laughter echoing louder than anyone else’s. He made you feel seen, plucking you out of the background you’d been relegated to your whole life. He chose you, or at least that’s what you told yourself.

But the truth is, he never chose you.

You see it now, in hindsight, with a clarity that cuts like broken glass. The signs were always there, but you ignored them because you wanted to believe in the illusion. You wanted to believe that, for once, you were enough.

The final blow came the night it all unraveled.

You had planned a quiet evening—dinner at home, candles flickering on the table, the kind of intimate moment you craved but rarely got. He arrived late, as always, with a lopsided grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You tried to ignore the ache in your chest when he barely glanced at the effort you’d put into everything.

Halfway through the meal, your sister’s name slipped into the conversation. Again.

“She’s doing amazing, isn’t she?” he said, his tone laced with admiration. “I mean, she could do anything she wanted.”

You froze, your fork hovering mid-air. It wasn’t the first time he’d talked about her, but tonight, something snapped.

“Satoru,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you. “Do you even realize how often you bring her up?”

His expression faltered, surprise flashing across his face. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that I can’t go a single day without hearing you talk about her,” you said, your voice rising despite yourself. “I’m talking about the way you look at her. The way you… God, the way you light up around her.”

He blinked, leaning back in his chair, his usual confidence suddenly absent. “You’re imagining things,” he said softly, but the guilt in his eyes betrayed him.

“No,” you shot back, standing now, your heart racing. “I’m not. Don’t you dare lie to me. Not anymore.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. You could feel your hands shaking, your breath coming in shallow gasps. And then, in a voice so quiet it was barely audible, he said the words you’d been dreading.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

The room tilted. Your world tilted. You gripped the back of your chair to steady yourself. “What didn’t you mean, Satoru?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and that pause—that damned, suffocating pause—told you everything. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I care about you,” he said. “I do. But…”

“But it’s her,” you finished for him, your voice breaking.

The look on his face was answer enough.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The weight of his betrayal pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. You had known, deep down, for so long. But hearing it—seeing it—was something else entirely.

You grabbed your coat, your vision blurry with tears, and headed for the door.

“Wait,” he called, his voice laced with desperation. “Don’t go. Please. We can fix this.”

You turned, your hand gripping the doorknob so tightly it hurt. “Fix what, Satoru? The fact that I was never enough for you? The fact that you used me to get closer to her?”

He flinched, the weight of your words hitting him like a slap.

“You don’t love me,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “You never did. And I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

And with that, you walked out.

---

The night air was freezing, but you didn’t feel it. You walked aimlessly, your chest hollow, your tears blending with the light drizzle that had started to fall. You thought breaking up with him would bring some kind of closure, some kind of relief.

But all you felt was loss.

Loss for the person you thought he was. Loss for the love you thought you had. And most of all, loss for the part of you that still wanted him, even now.

When you got home, your phone buzzed relentlessly—texts from him, voicemails pleading for another chance. But you knew there was nothing left to salvage. He had never truly been yours to begin with.

You deleted the messages, one by one, until your phone was silent.

And in the quiet, you made a promise to yourself: you would heal. Not for him. Not for anyone else. For you.

[furiousgoldfish]

I've noticed the other day how life is fundamentally different when living out of abuse. I had an experience of waking up in the morning, sleepily tapping over to the kitchen in my pajamas, wondering what to make for breakfast, and making a plan for the day. Completely careless and unselfconscious, thinking only about the food and what I wanted to do with my day. It hit me then how impossible every aspect of this would be, had I still been living in the abuse.

If I was still around abusers, my first thought in the morning would not be 'oh I'm so sleepy I'm gonna find something to eat', it would be 'Are they in the house, are they in the room, are they already mad at me'. I would be looking around cautiously, listening for every sound that indicates they're near me. I would be checking the clock to see if their schedule had already put them in their workplace or wherever they go, and then still peering trough the doors anxiously to see if the hallway is clear, if I can get to the kitchen. I'd be checking how I look to see if I'll be reprimanded for being in the pajamas in the common area. I'd change just to avoid the possibility. I'd be checking each item of food and wondering if it's okay to take it, or whether there's a chance I'll get yelled at or blamed for taking it. I'd be analyzing the last words and actions we exchanged to try to predict how close the abuser is from blowing up and possibly attacking me.

The rest of my day would be scheduled around avoiding them, or alternatively, being in the place where they could easily find me, because if I'm not where I'm expected to be, they might get mad. All of my activities could be stopped and prevented at moment's notice if they decided I need to be doing something for them at that moment. I could be yelled at for not doing something for them sooner, for 'making them say it'.

If I wanted to go out, I'd have to consider if this is allowed, and if they'd want me to stay inside for one reason or another. If I am outside, I'd have to worry about what's going to happen to my stuff if I'm not back whenever they're expecting me to be there, or what kind of angry state I'd find them in. It would be safest to notify them of everything I'm doing, but they might immediately call it unnecessary, stupid, offensive or otherwise inconvenient, and force me to drop it and do something for them instead. Secrecy was the only way to do things, but also risky in case some part of it turns out to be not allowed. There were never any clear rules to what is okay, it would change with their moods.

If I could hear the abuser's car parking in the driveway, I would run back inside of my room, as if it was the 'safe area', when it wasn't. It would at least take me out of their view, so they wouldn't immediately think to start at me. But if they wanted to, they could just go inside of my room and charge at me then. I would just delay being the target, putting myself out of immediate sight. Of course this also meant I couldn't leave any trace of doing anything in the home, so it wouldn't be noticeable I just ran away. Everything has to look untouched.

And then when they interacted with me, I had to make sure to not show emotion on my face, to not look overly confident or happy, to not show any fear or anxiety, to not look sad or upset, to not look angry. I had to act normal, or else. I had to try and defend my own actions and interests walking a fine line of 'trying to let them know I'm upset and unhappy about this, without setting them off and causing them to blow up at me for talking back'. And I'd be told off for this too, because 'how could I complain when people have it soo much worse and I am ungrateful for having a roof over my head'. I had to do whatever was asked out of me, and restrain from even expressing it wasn't what I wanted, for the fear of losing the roof over my head.

Unbelievable I just lived like that for many years. And now I can flop in my pajamas to the kitchen, eyes half closed, make a mess, and think of nothing but food and plans for the day, not worrying for a second that someone could target me for any move I make. I still get scared easily, but nobody attacks me anymore. I can take any item of food, for it is all mine. I can decide to go out anytime, come back anytime, no consequences. I decide what is good for me to do, and nobody else gets an input. I can think of my own interests, and disgreard what anyone else in the world could want from me, because I don't exist for their convenience, and I don't have to worry about it anymore. What I lived before feels absolutely intolerable now. Even one second of that is unsurvivable.

[metallicames]

New fic with 2000's James! Hope you like it 🥰

@nausicaamusiclover20 you for the perfect translation❣️

I missed you

Description: You and James had a baby two months ago, you're slowly getting back into your routine and you feel the need to start making love with James again and it seems almost like the first time.

WARNINGS: smut, explicit content, sex, oral sex, dirty talking.

Two months have passed since Elijah was born—two difficult, but at the same time, beautiful and intense months. James has proven to be an amazing father. Since he got sober, he feels like a different person—caring, attentive, present, and reliable. I find myself falling even more in love with him. Slowly, I'm getting back into my routine. It feels good to focus on myself again, but part of me still aches every time I leave Elijah. I never thought I'd be the kind of mom who struggles with being apart from her baby, but every time I head to the gym or prepare for my upcoming runway show, there's a knot in my stomach. I’m so proud of what I do, but I can't help but feel torn.

In three months, I have a big runway show, and I've started going to the gym again. Today is one of those days, and I’m heading home after my workout, eager to see Elijah and James again.

I push the door open, the familiar scent of home welcoming me. I can already hear the soft hum of James's guitar drifting down the hallway. My heart skips a beat, and I find myself walking toward Elijah’s room almost instinctively.

When I step inside, I pause, watching them. James is sitting in the armchair by the crib, guitar in hand, his strong fingers gently strumming a slow, peaceful melody. Elijah is peacefully asleep in his crib, his tiny chest rising and falling in rhythm with the song. I can’t help but smile, my chest swelling with love.

James’s presence is such a contrast to the serene room around Elijah. His broad shoulders and tattooed arms look so out of place here, surrounded by the soft colors and delicate decor, but somehow, it makes everything feel even more right. He looks so relaxed, so at peace. It’s as if the world outside doesn’t exist in these moments, and all that matters is the tiny soul asleep in the crib and the man playing music to him.

I stay still, watching them, my heart full. It’s been months since we’ve had time alone, and I can feel the distance between us melting away, the desire for him creeping back in. But there's also something else—a sense of longing for the connection we've both been craving. It’s been so long since we've had time to ourselves, just the two of us.

I bite my lip, torn between my love for Elijah and the pull of James. I’m not sure I’m ready for everything to change, but seeing him like this, so attentive, so gentle—it stirs something deep inside me.

Finally, I take a step closer, my footsteps soft on the carpet, and I lean in to kiss the top of Elijah's head before turning my attention to James.

“You’re always full of surprises,” I whisper, my voice soft, teasing.

“I thought I’d try something different today,” he says with a grin, putting the guitar down gently. “Elijah seemed to like it.”

I smile, my heart melting. I lean in, letting my fingers brush against his, a small touch that sends warmth through me. “He did. I think he’s just as in love with you as I am.”

James’s hand tightens around mine, pulling me in closer. For a moment, it’s just us, standing there in the quiet of the nursery, the world outside forgotten.

A shiver runs down my spine. It’s been months since we’ve touched, and I can feel the longing desire  inside me. The distance between us has become unbearable, and I know it’s finally time to reconnect, to feel his touch again, to make love.

I watch Elijah sleeping peacefully in his crib, careful not to disturb him. I don’t dare touch him, not wanting to wake him up. My heart is racing as I turn toward James, and I can’t help but move toward him. I reach up and run my fingers through his short, tousled hair, the touch soft and gentle, before pressing my lips to his in a slow kiss. I pull away slowly, my gaze locking with his, and then kiss him again, this time deepening it, my tongue slipping past his lips with a careful, lingering motion.

His hand moves to my face, cupping my jaw and the side of my neck. His grip is firm, but there’s tenderness in the way he holds me, his fingers pressing slightly against my skin. He tightens his hold just a little, sending a shiver through my body.

"I want you..." I whisper, my voice breathless as my lips hover close to his ear.

I feel him stiffen slightly, his gaze lighting up with a fire that matches my own. He had promised to wait for me, to wait until I was ready. I know he’s been patient, but I can see in his eyes the same longing that’s been growing inside me. The months of silence, of distance—it’s been agony for both of us.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his voice low and full of concern, but there's a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes search mine, making sure I’m comfortable, that this is what I really want. "Do you feel okay?"

I meet his gaze, nodding softly. "I’m ready," I whisper. "I feel… right with you."

His smirk deepens, and he nods, his eyes darkening with approval. Then, as if to answer my unspoken invitation, he leans in and kisses me again, this time with more urgency. The kiss starts slow, sweet, but quickly becomes more passionate, his lips moving against mine with a deep hunger. His hands roam to my back, pulling me closer, the heat between us building as we kiss.

After a few moments, I pull back just enough to breathe, my chest rising and falling rapidly. My fingers trail down his chest, and I look up at him with a small smile. "Let’s go to the bedroom, "I suggest, my voice thick with desire.

He gives me a slight nod, but I hesitate, glancing back toward Elijah. "Wait" I say, stepping back for a moment. I grab the walkie-talkie from the shelf by the door and hand it to him. "Just in case he wakes up…"

James takes the walkie-talkie with a smirk still playing on his lips, his eyes locked on mine. "We’ll be quick" he says, the teasing tone in his voice making it clear he's eager, but patient.

I feel strangely nervous, almost as if it’s the first time. Maybe it’s the fear that something has changed, that it won’t be the same as before. If that’s the case, it would hit me hard because making love with James has always been one of the things I love most in the world. I try to hide the anxiety by kissing him hungrily, my hands finding their way to his chest, slipping under his shirt. The warmth of his toned chest makes me crave him even more.

As we move toward the bedroom, my heart is pounding in my chest. I try to push away the doubts creeping in—wondering if everything will be as it once was. What if things have changed? What if the passion we shared is gone, lost in the months of silence and distance? The thought makes me uneasy, but I try to shove it aside, focusing instead on the feel of his lips on mine, the warmth of his body against mine. I don’t want to think about anything else right now—just him.

James pushes me gently toward the bed, and I sit down, looking up at him. I can see the hunger in his eyes, the same fire that’s burning in me. Without breaking eye contact, I reach down to undo his belt, biting my lower lip as I pull at the buckle, feeling the tension build with every second.

"How badly do you want it?" he asks, his voice teasing, but laced with desire.

"Too much..." I answer, my hands pulling down the zipper of his jeans, my breath quickening with anticipation.

I pull down his pants and boxers, my gaze lingering on him for a moment. I can feel the weight of his eyes on me, and the air between us feels thick with desire. I can’t resist reaching out, my hands trembling slightly as I take his dick, slowly stroking it while I licked it, waching him intensely. His hand comes to the back of my head, gently guiding me closer. His breath quickens, and I can hear the low sounds of his pleasure. I take my time, moving deliberately, savoring the moment, savoring him.

"Stop…" he whispers, his voice rough. "I’m already close..."

I slow down, feeling the change in the air between us. I pull back just a little, giving him space to breathe, to collect himself. My fingers brush my lips, and I look at him, my chest rising and falling with each breath.  His eyes are dark, deep, full of desire. He pulls off my shirt, and for a moment, I feel exposed and vulnerable. My body has changed—my breasts are fuller from breastfeeding—and although I’ve almost regained my shape, I still don’t feel completely at ease. But when I see the way he looks at me, I feel a shiver run through me. His gaze moves slowly over every inch of my body, as if he’s memorizing me, in awe of the way I’ve changed.

He unhooked my bra while kissing me with slow, passionate intensity. The bra falls to the floor, and with one hand, he gently touches my breast. He knows I’m sensitive, so he’s careful, making sure his touch is soft, almost reverent. His fingers leave a trail of warmth that makes my head spin. I want him so much, more than I can put into words. I could throw myself at him in an instant, but he holds back, wanting to take his time, wanting to be gentle with me. His care only makes me want him more.

I lie back, pulling him down toward me, kissing him with a hunger I can’t suppress. I bite his lips softly, savoring every moment, intoxicated by his scent, his warmth. It’s like everything around us fades away, and I’m lost in him.

James pulls back just slightly, his eyes searching mine before he carefully pulls off my jeans and panties, his touch never rushing, always slow and deliberate. 

"You're beautiful... like a goddess," he says, his voice almost breathless. His compliment makes me blush, and I look at him, pleased, as I whisper, "Come here."

He quickly pulls off his shirt, his eyes never leaving mine. The intensity between us grows, and I feel a spark of anticipation.

His hand moves slowly toward my body,  touching my clit, sending a wave of pleasure through me. I arch my back instinctively, the pleasure building with every soft, deliberate touch. He kisses my chest, taking his time, pressing his face into me as if savoring every moment. His movements are slow, thoughtful, as though he’s memorizing each of my reactions.

I can feel myself becoming restless, my body craving more. It’s like a fire burning in me, one I can’t control.

"James, please... I need you," I say, my voice tinged with desperation, my body responding to his touch, moving beneath him.

He looks at me with a smile, positioning himself between us, his gaze full of longing. As he kisses me, he slowly pushes himself into me and I feel a rush of warmth and closeness. My breath catches in my throat, and I can’t make a sound, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. I open my mouth slightly, a deep sigh escaping as I hold him closer, feeling his arms enveloping me.

“God... I’ve missed you so much,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice thick with emotion. I feel the weight of his body above me, the pressure grounding me, but there’s something comforting in it—like we’re both exactly where we’re meant to be. But it becomes more passionate as I feel his lower abdomen rubbing in my clit at every thrust.  and I can’t help but respond to him, my hands gripping his back, my body aching to feel every part of him.

I know he’s holding back, trying not to rush, making sure I’m okay, and it makes me crave him more. I whisper his name, urging him on, knowing that right now, we both need this—need each other.

“Harder… James… give it to me harder,” I urge, my voice trembling with desire.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you,” he asks, concerned in his voice.

Without saying a word, I place my hand on his butt, guiding him closer to me, urging him deeper. He understands the message  and his arms move around me, pulling me in, his hands gently supporting the back of my head. He begins to thrust harder, with a new intensity, each motion slow but deep, bringing a wave of pleasure with every thrust. I let myself fully surrender to the sensation, each movement leaving me breathless. 

James is completely immersed in the moment now. His lips leave mine, his forehead resting softly against my shoulder as he continues thrusting, as though nothing else matters but the connection between us. I can feel him shaking, his breath quickening, and the way his body reacts tells me everything I need to know.

“Keep going,” I whisper, lost in the feeling of him, feeling the intensity building between us.

He reaches the peak, pulling away and leaning over me, his breath shallow as he cums all over my body, his expression of pleasure sending a rush of excitement through me. The warmth of him leaves me breathless, and his uneven breaths only heighten the intensity of the moment, sending me into a daze of sensation.

"I love you..." I whisper softly.

"I love you too, Y/N..." he responds, his breath heavy.

I look down at my abdomen and burst into laughter.

"Oops..." he says, laughing as he runs a hand through his hair.

He gets up and heads to the bathroom. When he returns, he has a damp towel, and he gently wipes it over my body, the sensation soothing. As he reaches my lower abdomen, I realize I still crave him. I want to feel more. As he moves the towel down, he pauses at my lower abdomen, almost as if he can read my thoughts. He starts kissing me, moving lower, and suddenly a wave of anxiety hits me. I’m afraid my body isn’t the same, that he won’t find me attractive anymore. Instinctively, I close my legs.

He looks at me, confusion in his eyes. "Hey... it’s me."

"I know, but..." I trail off, unsure of how to explain.

"You're perfect... relax," he says, his tone soft and reassuring as he continues to kiss me gently.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes, feeling him gently part my legs, kissing my clit. Slowly, I start to relax, and I realize my fears were unfounded. He loves my body just as much, if not more, than before. From this moment, his mouth and tongue move with perfect rhythm, knowing exactly how to stimulate every right spot. I know he loves giving me pleasure, and I can tell he would never stop. As he picks up the pace, a wave of shivers runs through my body, almost like an electric shock with every touch.

"Oh my God, James... you’re going to make me c..." I gasp, my hand tangled in his hair as I start trembling beneath him.

From time to time, he lets out a low, almost primal groan, sending another jolt of pleasure through me, making the sensation even more intense. At one point, he takes my ankle and places my foot on his shoulder, and I raise the other one to mirror the position, giving him more room to move. He kisses deeper, the sensation of his touch making me dizzy. His intensity drives me wild, and I can feel how deeply he desires me, how every action, every movement reminds me that I belong to him.

I can no longer control my moans, my body trembling with each wave of sensation. I arch my back, turning my head back as the pleasure builds. Just before reaching the edge, I glance down, seeing James, his skin glistening with sweat, completely naked between my legs. The sight of him, the way he moves against the mattress, only intensifies the feeling.

"J-Jamie... oh my God... I’m... I’m coming," I gasp, my body contorting as I grip the pillow with one hand. He wraps his arm around my leg, and with the final movements, he brings me to a powerful, overwhelming release. It’s intense, freeing, and everything I’ve been craving.

The sensation is so overwhelming and prolonged that I can barely catch my breath. I loosen my grip on his hair, and I notice that he’s still grinding against the mattress, his face so close to me. His soft groans soon give way to his own exhaustion, and he finally stills, breathing heavily. 

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaims, almost breathless.

"What happened?" you ask, amused, as you run your fingers through his hair and pull your feet off his shoulders.

"It’s that I... I came while I was eating you out . This is the effect you have on me," he says, his head resting on your lower abdomen, his breathing heavy and irregular. You smile, gently stroking his temple. He slowly sits up and lies next to you. You turn onto your side to watch him, admiring him quietly.

"Never doubt your body again, understood?" His voice is firm, his gaze intense, almost as if he's trying to make me believe in myself just as much as he believes in me.

I nod, my heart racing, and lean in to kiss him. The moment our lips touch, I feel a tear escape, rolling down my cheek.

He pulls away just enough to look at me, his expression filled with concern. "Why are you crying now?"

I try to steady my breath, the emotions swirling within me. "I don’t know... it's just... I’ve missed you so much, and with everything... my hormones are all over the place. There’s just so much I feel... I can’t even explain it all," I confess, my voice trembling with vulnerability.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he gently pulls me closer, wrapping his arms tightly around me, as if trying to protect me from all the worries I’ve been carrying. His warmth grounds me, and I can’t help but close my eyes and bury my face in the crook of his neck.

He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, and I feel his chest rise and fall as he inhales deeply. “I love you,” he whispers, the words coming so naturally, like they’re the most important thing he’s ever said.

I melt into his embrace, feeling his arms around me, holding me in a way that tells me I’m safe. The steady beat of his heart beneath my ear calms the storm inside me, and for a moment, everything feels right.

[klausysworld]

hii! could you please do a klaus x stefan x reader smut.

(klaus and reader are in a relationship.) klaus dares her to suck stefan off whilst sat on his lap. Klaus feels her getting wet as she sucks stefan off and says something like “that’s it love, cover my fingers in your cum”

could you also please include degrading pet names and klaus getting possessive like “does he taste as good as I do love?”

then he fucks reader out of jealousy/possessiveness and makes her and stefan hold eye contact.

I totally understand if you’re not comfortable doing this!! thank youu 🤍

Indulgences

I had been with Klaus for a couple of years now. He made me feel safe despite knowing how dangerous he was.

Klaus had his ups and downs of course but who didn't? I still loved him.

Even when he proposed ideas of threesomes sometimes and I'd have to watch as he made love to another woman, although he always insisted it wasn't love making and it never meant anything.

I didn't always like having to share him but it made him happy so I did.

Sometimes I could tell right away when he saw a woman that he'd want us to be with later. He always made sure to pay me attention too during the sessions but it wasn't the same as when it was just us.

Sometimes I would pull away and he'd send the other girl home. He would pull me back to him and kiss my face.

"I'm sorry sweetheart." Klaus would whisper, his fingers in my hair. "It wasn't a good time and I should have recognised that." He would murmur. "I'll make it up to you, my love."

And he always would.

That was his only fault really, that he indulged a little too much. But it could have been a lot worse.

When we got to Mystic Falls I got to stay in my own hotel whilst he did his supernatural business but he made sure to come over in the evenings to have dinner with me and spend some time.

It was hard when he turned into a wolf for a couple days, we hadn't really been apart since we'd gotten together but when he messaged me to come over to an address I knew something was happening.

When I got there I could already tell something was different about him as he wrapped his arms around my hips and pulled me in for a kiss. His eyes were gold when I looked up at them before they faded back to blue. Just after that the sound of heaving pulled my attention to the man on the floor, face dripping with blood.

Klaus pet my back as he kissed my ear. "Stefan's coming with us to find our wolves." He murmured and I nodded.

"Okay." I whispered and nodded and he smiled.

"We'll buy you some new clothes on the way, do you want to go get in the car?" He asked but it was demand disguised.

"Should I sit in the back?" I asked but he shook his head.

"No love, you stay beside me; always." He murmured and kissed my lips firmly before guiding me to the door.

Throughout the trip I was nice to Stefan and in return he was nice to me. Sometimes I would think that if I ever got to choose who we had a threesome with that it would be Stefan.

He was kind of like Klaus; sometimes he looked scary but he had a gentleness to him and he felt safe too. I wondered if he was like Klaus in bed too, if he needed to have threesomes with his girl.

Sometimes I thought about him when Klaus slid between my legs on top of the hotel bed. I wondered if Stefan could hear us through the walls. I wondered what he thought.

I'd look over at him when we were just standing around, waiting for Klaus to come out and sent Stefan in. Stefan would look back at me, smile a little and sometimes if we were stood close enough his hand would touch mine before Klaus could see.

But I didn't not love Klaus. I definitely did.

And I enjoyed being with him, feeling him hold me and touch me. He would ask me what was wrong and he would wake up early to get me some breakfast. Every now and then he would ask if he could drink from me which was something we only really did during passionate sex on special occasions but I think he could sense something off on the trip.

I must've been staring too long, Klaus picked up on it and he had dragged me up the hotel stairs.

"Do you like him, love? You like how Stefan looks?" He sneered, hands gripping my arms as he held me against the wall. "You want to feel him, don't you? Taste him, fuck him." He growled and I looked down, feeling guilty.

His breathing was heavy as a silence hung over us. I sniffed a bit and he sighed, his hold loosening before he caressed my arms and pulled me in for a hug.

"I'm sorry." I whimpered and he nuzzled my hair.

"I can't be angry with you sweetheart. You're perfect for me and you've done this for me so many times." He murmured.

"Done what?" I whispered and he cupped my face, tilting my head up to look at him.

"Indulged." He muttered, eyes dark as he kissed my lips. "I have no doubt Stefan won't be interested sweetheart, I know he looks at you too. I just wasn't sure it was mutual."

"We don't have to." I mumbled and shook my head. "I don't even want to, I don't like sharing." I pulled away and he guided me back to him.

"You don't have to do any sharing this time, my love. I'll learn to share this time." He told me with a kiss to the side of my head and as much as the idea had an appeal, I didn't really want anybody like I wanted Klaus.

"I only like you inside me." I whispered, remembering the only other time we had been with a man instead of a woman and he had had me whilst Klaus watched. It didn't feel right, not like Klaus did.

"Then you can just do as much as you'd like. Maybe you just want a touch or a tase? Allow me to give you this sweetheart. I want this for you." Klaus convinced and I considered it.

We didn't talk about it again, but I'd wondered if Klaus mentioned it to Stefan. The vampire had been eyeing me much more, his touch lingering whenever he got the chance and it was making my body crazy.

When we got to Chicago and Klaus woke up his sister Rebekah, I felt jealous. She and Stefan looked at each other with nothing but desire. I didn't want to share.

So once we got to the hotel and Rebekah went into her room, I went into Stefan's.

He was already grinning when I stepped inside and his hands gripped my waist. "I knew you wouldn't be able to keep ignoring me." He whispered, his forehead against mine.

I was down on the hotel bed in a second and everything felt right, except for one thing. "Klaus." I whined, my body sitting up but Stefan pushed me back down.

"He's on his way." He murmured and kissed my lips, It felt so good. I had to wonder if it felt that good when Klaus got to do that with other girls.

For a brief second, I forgot about Klaus and just focused on Stefan. The coldness of his hands, the taste of his tongue.

But Klaus made sure I wouldn't truly forget him.

I was lifted away from Stefan after a few moments and Klaus's warmth swallowed me.

"Tsk, my love." He scolded but his eyes and tone held no malice as he kissed my cheek. "Shouldn't be starting without me."

"I'm sorry." I mumbled but I wasn't, he had started without me before.

The buttons were picked undone one by one until my body was bare in Klaus's lap. "Look at Stefan, sweetheart." He murmured, his hand turning my head so I was looking at Stefan's naked body. He was leant back against the headboard and pillows, body on display and knowing smile on his face. My eyes drifted down to his cock, hard and waiting for me like Klaus's always was. "Good girl, go ahead." Klaus whispered, hands smoothing my body.

I could feel the nerves building as I crawled forward, Stefan's hands were immediately in my hair and guiding me down. I kissed softly from his base to the tip, listening to his breathing hitch and feeling Klaus grip my hips with tension.

He felt different against my tongue, I traced along the most prominent veins and up to the head, tucking lightly and listening to him groan.

"Mmm, just like that-" Stefan groaned and Klaus chuckled.

"Hear that, love? Stefan loves what a good cocksucker you are." He breathed into my ear and I whimpered with my lips still stretched around Stefan.

My head was pushed and pulled up and down, my throat relaxing to feel every inch of his shaft pump between the muscle. My eyes were half closed, Stefan's groaning face above me now blur.

My mind was a haze as my tongue rubbed at his skin swallowed every hint of a taste of his impending release.

Just as I sucked off the few beads of pre cum form his tip, two fingers slid through my folds making my body arch on instinct.

I went to lift my head, to look but a firm palm pushed me down. "Don't you dare." Klaus's voice growled from behind me. "We both know you want to feel him cum down that pretty throat of yours so keep going." He ordered as fingers pushed inside my cunt making me whimper and squirm in his lap.

I swallowed around Stefan's cock again, trying to reduce the amount I was salivating around him.

Klaus's fingers curled inside me, stroking me from the inside and making me clench around him.

Stefan's hands stroked me head, urging me to keep going.

Everything was so overwhelming, my body was already full of need just from the thought of any of this happening let alone it actually occurring.

They both felt so good, I could taste Stefan ready to cum and feel my cunt in a similar state.

Klaus could feel it too.

"Already about to cum on my fingers, love?" He purred, his lips behind my ear making shivers slip down my spine. "Go on, sweetheart. Show Stefan what a slutty pussy you have. Cum on my fingers." He commanded, his voice low and dark as both fingers moved withs supernatural speed.

My body rocked with his hand as Stefan's taste burst against my tongue and throat and his cry of relief broke through the tension of the air. I could feel myself shaking as I let go around Klaus's hand and swallowed Stefan's cum away, sucking the head for the last bit to come out.

My lips slipped off him, my cheek resting against his bare thigh as I panted and felt Klaus's fingers slowly circle my clit.

Klaus wrapped his arms around my midsection, pulling me back against his clothed chest. "That's my girl." He murmured, kissing my ear softly. "But that's enough. You're mine." He whispered, carrying me out of the hotel room, leaving Stefan a mess and bringing me up to the suite.

I was laid back down on my side, his body holding my down like usual. "I hated every second of that." He muttered, "Feeling how soaked you got from using that tongue on someone else." I whimpered in response and looked up at him as he shoved his belt off and tore the zipper straight off my jeans, letting his cock spring free.

I let out a cry when he pushed inside me in one fast thrust, a groan leaving him. "Klaus-" I gasped and he leant down to swallow my words. Our tongue tangled together before pulled away with a grunt and rocked his hips quickly.

"Tell me I taste better." He growled and I moaned.

"You do..." I whispered and he let out a puff of air.

"Say it."

"You taste better, better than Stefan- ah!" I cried out as he thrust particularly hard.

His hand was around my throat, keeping me down and at his mercy as his body moved in a frenzy against mine

I could feel his lack of control compared to usual, he was angry. It made him faster, his cockhead smacking into my spot repeatedly, so much so that It just felt as if he were rubbing right against it.

My pussy was weeping around him, wetting my thighs and the sheets below as I whimpered and moaned his name weakly.

His body collapsed into mine, his arms clinging to me tight as he nuzzled my throat and sucked a dark mark into the skin. His fangs pierced the skin but it didn't hurt much anymore.

We were rolled so I was on top of him, his cock still half hard and held between my walls.

"I love you." He murmured. "And I love all you do for me." In response I just tucked my head under his chin and let his hands guide my legs either side of his hips. "You're mine." He whispered and I smiled because I knew it.