#but from the new ones i think it's forever with me or fainted love

[newtness532]

i think the more i listen to it, the more i like it

[sturniolohouse]

Do Not Wait - M.S

a/n: this got heavier than i planned initially but i just leaned into wherever the story took me. it's also very reader focused, which i realized way too late. but, do not fret, matt is still in it :) lmk if you'd like me to continue this as a series... i hope yall like it, im proud of it.

summary: while matt is away, reader learns and struggles with some unexpected news that will change both their lives forever.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, vomit, blood, death, grief, panic attacks, cursing. (no use of y/n)

word count: 11.7k

song: do not wait - wallows

"And it gets worse before it gets better That's one thing that I have come to know Just so you know"

“I hate to leave you like this,” Matt sighs, pushing my hair out of my face as his dark silhouette sits beside me on the bed.

I lay curled up in a ball after spending majority of the night sick. I feel terrible because I kept Matt up when he had to be up early for his flight to Chicago today.

Despite my attempts to avoid disturbing him, he spent most of the night beside me, rubbing my back while I hunched over the toilet and bringing me water.

I toss and turn, unable to find a comfortable position as my restlessness and nausea worsen by the second.

Matt’s hand touches my forehead, gently pushing my hair back and mindlessly scratching my head. I sit up as another wave of nausea twists my stomach, and I take a deep breath, hoping to suppress it. Matt sits up behind me, his hand now rubbing my back as I lean over the side of the bed with my head between my knees.

Thankfully, a moment later the wave of sickness passes and I sit up straight with a small groan as my body aches.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch. I don’t want to get you sick, and you have to be up in a few hours,” I croak, but he protests, gently pulling me back into bed.

"I don't give a fuck. I'll sleep on the plane, you're staying right here,"

As the morning light begins to filter through the curtains, Matt’s alarm goes off. By then, we had maybe collectively slept an hour and I knew he must have been exhausted. He got ready quietly trying his best not to disturb me, but I was already awake.

I don’t think sleep is in the cards for me tonight.

He places the back of his hand on my forehead, then my cheek, his touch gentle and searching.

“You still don’t have a fever...I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” He sighs, his fingers sifting through my hair with a tenderness that makes my heart ache.

Even with the faint light of dawn as our only source, I can still make out his concerned expression as he scans my face.

“I've never been this sick before. It must be a bug,” My voice is hoarse from repeatedly throwing up.

“Please, stay here with Nick while I’m gone so you have someone to look after you. I’m gonna text him now so he sees it when he wakes up. God, I don’t even want to go anymore,” He wipes his hand down his face in stress and I shake my head.

“No, stop, don’t worry about me. I’m gonna be fine. I’ll stay here with Nick. Please don’t be late for your flight,” I insist, gripping his hand weakly. “I’m going to make some tea and try to get some rest.” I go to get up but he puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll make you tea, while we wait for the Uber. What do you want, mint?” He asks softly, his hand rubbing up and down my hip.

I nod weakly, thanking him.

I doze off a bit while he goes to make my tea, the repercussion of not sleeping catching up to me. When I open my eyes again, he’s setting my steaming mug on the bedside shelf carefully and placing two advils next to it.

“Text me when you wake up? And let me know if you have to go to urgent care, I’ll send you an Uber.” He tells me softly, his voice trembling with an emotion he’s trying to hide.

His reluctance to leave is evident in every line of his face.

I nod tiredly, “Mm, text me when you and Chris land. Have fun in Chicago. I love you.”

“I love you,” He kisses my forehead, before grabbing his suitcase by his bedroom door and leaving.

I was able to sleep a couple of more hours before I woke up again, dry heaving into the toilet because I quite literally had nothing left in my stomach.

I showered, brushed my teeth and went into the kitchen, searching for something bland to settle my stomach. I had decided to grab a rice cake and made more mint tea before I sprawled out on the couch in one of Matt’s hoodies.

It’s not the first time he’s been away, but this time, I miss him more than I anticipated. Even the scent of his hoodie brings a wave of emotion that catches me off guard.

We’ve never been one of those couples that spends every second of every day together anyway. Not even when we first started dating. We’ve always given each other the space we need.

But I must admit I could go for one of his hugs right now.

It’s around 10 AM when Nick comes down stairs and his face tells me everything I need to know about my appearance.

“I know, I look like shit.” I deadpan and he covers his mouth with wide eyes.

“I got Matt’s texts...I thought that motherfucker was being dramatic. Are you feeling any better?” He asks with a hand on his chest.

“Well, I haven’t thrown up in three hours, so that’s a new record. Your poor brother, I kept him up all night,”

“He'll live, do you want to go to urgent care?”

“No, I’ll wait it out. It’s gotta pass and I was able to keep my breakfast down.” I wave a hand.

Nick goes to make his own breakfast, slicing an apple before coming over to sit on the couch with me.

“Apple?” He offers me, munching on his own bite.

I decline shaking my head with a frown.

Nick wanted to watch Love Island, so I let him change the TV, feeling my eyelids grow heavy. As the sounds of the show filled the room, I found myself dozing off, giving in to the rest my body needs.

When I wake up, I have a blanket over me and Nick is editing on his laptop.

He notices me move and takes his headphones off one ear.

“Hey, you feeling better? Matt keeps pestering me for updates,” He shows me his phone with messages from a worried Matt.

I sigh, “Jesus...I’ll call him. But yes, I feel better now that I've gotten some sleep.” I get up and stretch my body, wincing at my achy muscles.

“How long was I out?” I ask grabbing my phone to see my own set of messages from Matt.

Kid worries too much.

“About 3 hours, you were knocked out. I’m gonna order food, are you hungry for anything?” He asks and my stomach rumbles at the thought of one food.

“I could fuck up some tacos right now,” I raise an eyebrow at him at my suggestion.

“I like the way you’re thinking.” He snaps his fingers pointing at me in agreement.

“Birria tacos for me and a Diet Coke. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go call your brother before he has a heart attack.” I say walking to Matt’s room and calling him.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Hey,” He breaths out, his voice soft.

“What did I tell you about worrying about me?” I tease him and he laughs, sounding relieved.

"Hi!" I heard Chris shout in the background, before I heard a door close and Matt sigh. I'm guessing he went into a separate room.

“If you saw the state you were in before I left this morning, you’d be worried too. I take it you’re feeling better? Heard you napped,” He speaks up again, talking at a normal volume now.

“I was physically feeling the state I was in. But, yeah, a little better after my nap. How was your flight?” I ask, playing with the trinkets on his shelves.

“Besides me worrying the entire flight about you dehydrating and dying? Fine. A little turbulence, but nothing crazy.”

“Okay, drama, relax. I’m staying hydrated, I’ve napped, Nick and I are about to order some tacos. It must have just been a bug. I must admit, you're very cute when you worry about me though.” I smile and he hums shly.

A beat of silence goes by and I look at the photobooth picture of Matt and I on his wall.

“I miss you,” I admit to him, leaning down to inhale the collar of his sweatshirt on me.

“I miss you too. You know I haven't even been gone 12 hours though,” He reminds me, sounding amused at my unexpected sappyness.

I sigh, “I know,”

Suddenly I have a lump of emotion in my throat and he automatically hears the switch of my tone.

“Hey woah, what happened? Why are you upset?” He sounds panicked.

“Oh my god, sorry. I don’t know. I’m not even sad,” I choke back my tears.

“Doesn’t sound like it.." He doesn't sound convinced. "Do I need to come home?" He says next and I'm immediately objecting.

“What! No. Matt, I promise I’m fine.” I tell him quickly, taking off my hoodie as I begin to overheat.

“I love you... I’ll be back before you know it, okay? S'nothing we haven’t done before.” He reminds me softly and my bottom lip wobbles.

“Mhm,” I manage to get out and he sighs again.

“Sweetheart... You’re telling me not to be worried, but I’m beyond worried. Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” He pleads and I shake my head even though he can't see me.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you...I-i think I just needed to cry, and missing you isn’t helping because I wish I could hug you but you’re so f-far,” I hiccup.

“Okay, deep breaths, how about you take a nice hot shower–maybe a bath. Use Nick’s bath and when you’re done, you can eat your tacos and you’ll feel better. Okay? Listen, Chris and I are about to leave for dinner, are you going to be alright?” He checks in, sounding hesitant to hang up.

“Yes, I’m fine. Seriously. I’m sorry. I must be starting my period soon.” I compose myself, trying to ignore the sudden ache in my heart.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, his voice gentle and sweet.

Any other time, he’d be teasing me for being a crybaby—lovingly, of course—but I think he senses that my emotions are genuinely beyond my control right now.

“I love you,” he says again with emphasis, wanting to hear me say it back.

“I love you, so much," I say weakly, "Have fun at dinner and tell Chris I said hi.” I tell him, wiping my eyes.

“Will do. I’ll call you when we get back.” He says goodbye, hanging up.

I take a deep breath and I shake my head, feeling frustrated with my poorly-timed emotions. I feel terrible for worrying him more, I wanted this trip for him to be fun. Chris had really been looking forward to going with Matt—it had become a sort of tradition for the two of them. I need to get my emotions under control.

I wince again as I feel the heaviness and soreness in my breasts. Sighing, I go to my phone and check my period app to see when this torture will be over.

My stomach drops when I open the app and see I'm 13 days late.

My head feels dizzy suddenly and I pinch my eyes closed as the pit in my stomach spurs on more nausea. I lay back and put my arm over my eyes and take deep breaths.

My mind races, but I can’t seem to focus on one thought.

No, I can’t be.

I’m just stressed, that’s all.

I have an IUD, it's not possible.

But everything's adding up; the nausea, heightened emotions, late period...

I sit up slowly, feeling the weight of the realization settle on me. My heart pounds in my chest and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the flood of emotions threatening to drown me. But there’s no escaping this.

With trembling hands, I go to call Matt back, my thumb hovers over the call button but I stop myself. He’s going to dinner right now, on the opposite side of the country.

I can't burden him with this, not when I don’t even know for sure.

Dropping my phone onto the bed beside me, I try to self soothe, taking deep breaths to steady myself, but the anxiety is relentless.

I walk out of the room and Nick is asking me what kind of salsa I want with my tacos before he looks up at me. He immediately furrows his brows in worry.

“Hey–what's going on, are you okay?” He sits up and places his laptop on the coffee table.

“I-I can't breath,” I gasp, reaching out for him, feeling like a little kid.

He instantly stands up, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

“What’s happened? Deep breaths, big deep breaths. There you go,” He rubs my back and I breath deeply with him.

My cheek smushed into his chest as I listen to the beating of his heart to help ground me. I pull away, still trembling and shake my head, unsure if I should even be telling Nick this.

This should be Matt.

Nick's eyes search mine, sensing my hesitancy. “You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready,” he says softly, his hands rubbing my shoulders.

I bite my lip, feeling a mix of guilt and desperation.

I don’t want to drag Nick into something so personal, but this is too overwhelming to keep bottled up.

“I… I think I might be pregnant,” I finally whisper, the words barely escaping my lips.

Saying it out loud makes it feel all the more real, and the weight of it presses down on me like a ton of bricks.

Nick’s expression shifts from worry to shock, his mouth falling agape and silence ringing between us. Once he hears me whimper, he snaps out of it and brings me back into a bone crushing hug.

"Shh, okay–it's okay, um…” His voice wavers, and I can feel his heart racing against my cheek.

For a moment, it seems like he’s trying to find the right words, but all that comes out is a nervous laugh.

“This is… wow, this is big. I'm sorry– I don't know what else to say right now,” His voice high pitched and shaky.

I can’t help but let out a shaky laugh with him, even through my anxiety.

“Yeah, big,” I agree, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nick pulls back just enough to look at me, his uncertainty showing in the way his eyes dart around, trying to process everything at once.

“I mean, I’m no expert on this—obviously—but we'll figure this out. You're gonna be okay, everything's gonna be okay.”

His reassurance is genuine, but I can see he's trying to convince himself too; a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

This is uncharted territory for both of us.

Nick and I had decided to order the tests along with the food, killing two birds with one stone. He’s doing his best to stay calm for my sake, but the trembling of his hands as he places the order is hard to miss.

"Okay, tacos and tests are on the way. I got, well, all of them because I don't know which one is best. I even got ice cream. Fuck, when did it get so hot in here? I'm overheating–are you overheating?" He says, his words moving a mile a minute as he fans himself with his shirt.

I can't help but to laugh as his nerves show and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, I know you're the one potentially knocked up by my idiot brother but I'm just so nervous. I'm sweating like a monster," His voice cracks.

"Do you mind if I use your bath?" I ask and he nods right away.

“Are you kidding? Of course, go ahead. Someone has to use it. I’m gonna…Well, I’ll just wait out here and try to chill.” He gives me a quick, reassuring smile, though it’s clear he’s still on edge.

I head to his bathroom and try to forget about my racing thoughts.

I turn the faucet on and put in some bath salts, checking the temperature before I step over to the vanity mirror. I take a look at my appearance and notice the puffiness in my face right away. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes are bloodshot.

I blow out a raspberry as I undress and get into the hot water.

The heat soothes my aching muscles and clears my mind. I soaked for a while, even draining a bit of the water and refilling the tub with more hot water. Once I feel myself pruning, I decide it's time I get out.

As I dry myself off, I notice light blood on the towel. My heart races, and I quickly check again—I'm bleeding. Very lightly, but there’s blood.

Relief floods through me, and I almost cry again, this time from the emotional whiplash. My legs feel shaky, so I sit down on the edge of the tub to steady myself, my breath coming out in shaky bursts.

Clutching the towel to my chest, I close my eyes and let out a long, relieved sigh.

“Thank God,” I whisper, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

I try not to dwell on the small part of me that almost wanted to feel disappointed. Maybe even mourning the part of me that might have embraced being pregnant–excited, even.

Instead, I focus on center of my emotions, the part where a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Eventually, I pull myself together, cleaning myself up and getting dressed.

When I step out of the bathroom, Nick is on his bed, clearly trying to keep himself distracted. My eyes go to the food and the tests at the foot of the bed.

As soon as he sees me, he shoots up, his expression immediately shifting to one of concern.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice soft. I nod, a small smile breaking through the lingering anxiety.

“I’m okay,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “I uh…I got my period, I think,”

Nick’s face lights up with relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Oh, thank God,” he shouts, “This is great fucking news—right?” He checks in and I nod.

“Yeah,” I agree, feeling a little dazed by how quickly everything has turned around. “I think we’re in the clear. We won't be needing those tests, I'll pay you back for them,"

Nick ignores me, pulling me into a bear hug, his arms so tight around me, I can barely breath.

“Shut up I don't care,” he says, “You don't have a parasite in you!" He cheers, jumping us up and down.

We both let out laughs, the tension that had been looming over us now replaced with a lightness.

“Let’s eat,” I suggest, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Nick nods, "Couldn't agree more,"

We sit on his bed and for the first time all day, I feel like I can actually breathe.

As we dig into the tacos, Nick puts Love Island back on and we rot in bed for a few hours.

But even as we talk and laugh, there's still a pit in my stomach. A small portion of me can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t over yet.

Yeah, there's was blood. But it was different than my normal period. It was lighter.

I try not to panic, but I can't help but feel like my intuition is trying to tell me something. For now, I push my thoughts aside, focusing on Nick beside me yelling at the annoying horny people on his TV.

Nick offered for me to sleep in his room but I declined, wanting to sleep in Matt's bed.

Matt never called me, but he texted me apologizing and checking in on me. I listened to a voice memo he sent me of all they did today and I was genuinely glad he was having fun, so I didn't mind him not calling.

Plus, I'm not entirely sure I'm in the right state of mind to have a conversation with him right now. I wouldn't be able to keep today's events to myself.

I know I can’t keep him in the dark—I need to tell him what’s going on.

I glance at the stack of tests on his dresser and sigh. The bleeding from earlier has stopped, leaving me with a pit in my stomach.

I know I’ll have to take those tests, even if only for clarity. But for now, I’m going to force myself to sleep.

I find myself in a place that feels both familiar and strange. It's warm, the sun showering the garden and I immediately know I'm in my grandmother's backyard.

The breeze picks up, carrying the scent of blooming flowers—lilies, hyacinths, peonies, and marigolds—enveloping me in a peacefulness that feels like a comforting blanket.

I walk along the familiar stone path, my fingers grazing the soft petals of the flowers. Each step feeling like a compelling, magnetic pull, guiding me deeper into the garden.

I see her then–my grandmother, seated on a wooden bench beneath the shade of the large oak tree I used to climb as a child.

My breath hitches, she doesn't look sick. Her smile is lively, her cheeks rosy and the green in her eyes vibrant.

But there’s something else different, a kind of ethereal glow about her that sends a chill down my spine.

“Come here, my girl,” she says, her voice soft and inviting.

I walk over to her, feeling a strange mix of emotions: comfort, longing, and an inexplicable sadness.

I sit down beside her and she takes my hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring.

“I’ve missed you,” I say, my voice thick with emotion, unable to fathom her not sick in a hospital bed.

She smiles, her eyes full of love. “I haven't gone anywhere."

There’s a pause as I try to process her words, but then she looks at me knowingly, another shiver down my spine.

"You're glowing," She hums, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I look at her confused until she places a hand to my stomach. My breath hitches and I can't control the tear that rolls down my cheek.

I shake my head in disbelief, "How...d-do you know?" I whisper, my voice getting lost in the intoxicating breeze.

It's then that I feel a deep flutter in my stomach, one that I can't describe.

I place my hand over my grandmother's that still rests on my stomach. The flutter intensifies, my heart mimicking the pattern as warmth blooms in my chest. The feeling is overwhelming.

An unexpected, joyous sob escapes my lips before I can stop it, tears blurring my vision.

“You're both going to be okay,” My grandmother says softly, gently wiping away my tears.

My lip wobbles and I let out a shaky breath before she speaks up again.

“She’s strong too, just like you.”

“She..?” I squeak. My grandmother’s smile returns, softer this time and she nods.

A wave of shock and confusion washes over me, but before I can ask more, the garden begins to fade. The colors bleeding into each other until everything is a swirl of light.

Her voice echoes as the dream dissolves, “Don't be afraid, Petal.”

I shoot up, my heart racing, my face soaked in tears and my body covered in a cold sweat. I feel disoriented as I take in my surroundings and my mind tries to grasp the remnants of the dream.

My grandmother’s face, her words, the fluttering in my stomach. But now, that fluttering has turned into a twisting feeling in my gut.

Something was wrong.

My phone buzzes, startling me out of my tangled, fuzzy thoughts. My hands tremble slightly as I reach for my phone.

It’s my mom.

“Hello?” I answer, my voice thick with sleep and confusion.

There’s a pause on the other end, and then my mom’s voice comes through, shaky and heavy with emotion.

“Honey...I'm sorry I'm calling you so early, but it’s Grandma....Sh-she passed in her sleep early this morning.”

The words hit me like a punch in the gut, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. She continues to talk but I can't hear her, my ears ring and time slows down.

A flood of emotions overcome me.

Grief, shock, and the strange sense that the dream was more than just a figment of my imagination.

As the reality of her passing sinks in, I’m left with the weight of her final words to me. She was telling me something important, something I can’t ignore anymore.

My stomach twists again and I bolt to the bathroom where I throw up until I'm dry heaving into the toilet.

-

I'm not even shocked when the test immediately shows up positive. I stare blankly at the two pink lines, the only hint of emotion is the tremor in my hand as I grab the test and chuck it into the trash can.

I feel numb.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I see the emptiness in my eyes, the darkness encasing them. The person staring back is a stranger.

I'm pregnant.

I should be feeling joy, maybe even excitement—I want to at least, but all I feel is nothing. My experience overshadowed by my grief. By the anomaly of this situation, how this could have happened.

I have an IUD, I was bleeding, but here we are.

I wanted Matt to be the first to know, to share in that moment with him, but now everything feels wrong, out of order.

I feel robbed of the happiness I should be feeling.

I step into the shower and let the scalding hot water claw at my skin. I finally let myself break down, grief rattling through me and slicing me open.

My dream replays in my mind over and over again. My grandmother's eyes, her warmth, her words, her hand on my stomach.

“You’re both going to be okay,”

My hand instinctively goes to my stomach. I press my palm into my abdomen, expecting to feel that flutter, desperate to feel any sort of connection with the life that's there–to cling to the intense joy from my dream...but there's nothing.

It was ripped away from me from the moment I woke up.

“She’s strong too, just like you,”

I whimper, the sound dissolving into the rush of the water.

I don’t feel strong. I feel weak.

My grandmother told me not to be afraid, but I can’t escape this overwhelming anxiety, the suffocating uncertainty that engulfs me.

The tightness in my chest, the heaviness in my heart, the deep-seated guilt that festers within me.

I cry and cry and cry until I can’t anymore, until the tears run dry, leaving only the ache in my chest.

When the water turns cold and the sun fully rises, is when I finally get out. My feet drag beneath me as I walk back into Matt's room and get dressed.

I pull on one of Matt's crewnecks and some sweats before I go into the kitchen to make a tea.

I make myself an Earl Grey, my grandmother's favorite.

I sit down at the dining table and book the first flight back home to Maine, which is tomorrow morning. My mom and I spoke again and she told me the funeral isn't until next week, but I wanted to be there for her. I couldn’t stay here right now.

My stomach growls loudly and I press my palms into my eye sockets. I suppose I should really eat something with substance, especially now.

I grab the berries from the fridge that are in their last leg, washing them before forcing myself to eat. The tartness of the blueberries sparks a memory of helping my grandmother make blueberry pancakes on Sunday mornings. I smile sadly at the fond memory of being her little sous chef.

When 7 AM rolls around, restlessness overtakes me and I step outside, sitting in the front stoop before calling Matt.

"You're up early," His voice thick with sleep as he greets me through the line.

"Hey," I say weakly, letting out a sigh as I gaze up at the clear sky. There's not a single cloud in sight.

"What's wrong?" His tone immediately shifts to concern.

"Matt... my grandma passed this morning," I start, my voice trembling slightly.

I omit the dream and the positive pregnancy test in his bathroom, grateful that he can't see my face.

There's a heavy sigh on the other end. "I'm so sorry. I know she was sick for a while... Are you doing okay? How's your mom?"

"I'm... managing. And my mom, she's actually doing okay. I think we're all relieved in a way, you know? It was only a matter of time. I'm just glad she's not suffering anymore," I navigate my feelings about her passing, my voice surprisingly steady.

"Of course," His voice is so soft, fueling my longing for his touch.

"Do you think…there's any way you can change your flight on Tuesday to go to Maine? The funeral isn’t until next Thursday, but I’m getting there tomorrow afternoon." I ask, playing with a loose string on my sweatpants.

"Of course, I'll look at flights right now," he responds without hesitation.

"Thank you, I just....I need you there," I tell him, feeling a tightness in my chest when I avoid mentioning the conversation we need to have.

"I'll be there. I found a flight that will get me there tomorrow night."

"Matt–" I start to protest.

"I already changed it. No refunds," He cuts me off, his voice firm. "Sweetheart, you need me, I'm not going to make you wait until fucking Tuesday."

"What about the rest of your trip? You'll miss the rest of the festival, and Chris–" I try and reason with him.

"Listen to me carefully...I don't give a fuck about the festival. You need me there, and I'm going to be there. Chris will be fine, he's a big boy. He has Sam here with him and they'll fly back to LA together," His tone leaving no room for argument, his mind was made up.

A small, grateful smile tugs at my lips as tears well up in my eyes.

"I love you," I manage to say, my voice trembles with emotion.

"I love you, so much it hurts. I wish I could hug you right now but I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I’m gonna go talk to Chris, text me or call me if you need me. I mean it, kid."

“I will,” I promise, ending the call and looking up at the sky again, wrapping my arms around myself as the cool morning air brushes against my skin.

I take a deep breath, the air filling my lungs grounding me. As I exhale, I try to focus on the one thing I know for sure—I may not feel strong, but I need to be and not just for myself, but for the life growing inside of me.

My grandmother's words echo in my mind.

"Don't be afraid, Petal."

–

Nick wakes up shortly after, only taking one look at me before I’m breaking down again—the weight of everything crashing down on me like another tidal wave.

I tell him everything, my dream, my grandmother's passing, I show him the positive pregnancy test.

I cry into his chest, feeling overwhelmed.

"I'm just s-so confused," I manage to say between sobs. "In my dream, I was so happy... everything felt right. I felt connected with..." My words trail off, dissolving into incoherent blubbering.

Nick just listens, rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles.

"Listen," he begins softly, "your body is under a lot of stress right now. You just found out about your grandma, and then this very unexpected news on top of it… Every single emotion you’re feeling is normal, and 100 percent valid. But you have so many people by your side who love you and will help you through this, no matter what you decide..."

I sniffle, trying to regulate my breathing as I take in his words.

"I'm angry, too," I admit, my voice cracking with the strain of holding it all in. "This is so unfair. The timing of this couldn't be worse... I can't even talk to Matt and I feel awful keeping this from him. He shouldn't have to find out like this."

"Everything is going to be okay, deep breaths," Nick repeats, his voice calm as he helps me process the flood of emotions.

I blow out a raspberry, pulling back and running my hands down my face in frustration. When I look at him, he's watching me cautiously, trying to read my expression.

"I'm pregnant," I say softly, the words finally leaving my lips for the first time.

A mix of emotions swirls in my chest and stomach—fear, uncertainty, a strange kind of acceptance.

Nick nods slowly, his eyes still scanning my face, and for a moment, I find myself imagining if this was me telling Matt.

More dread fills me.

How will he react? Will he be the support I need?

We’ve talked about having kids before. They were always in the cards for us, but never this soon.

We only just started to discuss getting our own place and now our lives are going to be changing forever.

Nick helped me pack as I tried to arrange a last-minute appointment to confirm my pregnancy, which proved to be quite the ordeal.

The receptionists initially inform me that they didn't have any openings for weeks. However, when I mention the IUD and a positive pregnancy test, the urgency in their voice shifted dramatically.

They told me to come in right away.

The urgency in the receptionists voice on the phone didn’t help my nerves. Neither when they took me straight into an examination room the minute I told them my name.

They take my vitals, draw my blood and give me a cup to pee in.

I left Nick in the waiting room, dressing down into the gown they placed neatly on the exam chair. I look around at the diagrams of the fetuses and the posters of the development. I’ve seen these countless times and never thought twice, but this time I feel unsettled.

I swallow thickly and sit on the loud crinkly paper with the anticipation of the doctor coming in soon.

There’s a soft double knock on the door before a head of wild, curly hair peeks in.

“Hello, hello. I’m Dr. Sullivan,” She says washing her hands and sitting down on the swivel stool next to the examination chair.

The woman has a mane of big, unruly curls that frame her face, with chunky black square-framed glasses perched on her slightly humped nose, drawing attention to her bright hazel eyes. A wide smile, complete with a distinctive gap between her two front teeth, radiates warmth and adds to her quirky charm. She almost seems like a character out of a cartoon—lanky, with an energetic, bouncy stride that matches her bubbly personality. She can't be much older than my mother.

"So, you are in fact pregnant. The lab results confirmed the presence of HCG, which is the hormone produced during pregnancy. "

“Do you have any idea how this happened? I mean, obviously I know how it happened but, I have an IUD.” I say, still trying to wrap my head around the situation.

She nods dramatically, her lips pressing into a line as she listens to my concerns.

“Unfortunately, no birth control is 100 percent effective. In most cases, the IUD might have been displaced, or in some instances, the body rejects the device without you knowing. I actually would like to get clarity on that with an ultrasound, but I think it’s important for you to know the risks of this scenario here.” She says, turning slightly more serious.

“Risks?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she says softly, “There is a possibility that, due to you having an IUD, this pregnancy may not be viable. Having an IUD increases the risk of what we call an ectopic pregnancy... are you familiar with that term?” Her hazel eyes lock onto mine and I shake my head, my heart starting to pound.

“Well, because you have a contraceptive device in the space where a fetus would normally develop, there's a risk that the pregnancy could occur outside the uterus. Typically the egg will implant itself in the fallopian tubes, which cannot host a safe or viable pregnancy...And if not treated immediately, the tube can rupture and cause internal hemorrhaging," She explains gently, carefully choosing her words to convey the seriousness of the situation.

I feel my heartbeat in my ears now as I process her words.

"So you're saying, this can be life threatening...for me and the..." My throat closes up and I can't finish my sentence.

She must take notice of the panic in my face, her round eyes widening slightly.

"If it goes untreated, yes. But I don't say this to make you panic, you're in good hands and whatever happens, we will take the next steps together." She places a hand on my knee, giving the tissue box so I can dry my uncontrollable tears.

"Based on your last period, you should be about seven weeks along. This ultrasound will confirm that and also ensure the pregnancy is positioned in the uterus. Before we proceed, I'd like to ask you a few questions... do you need a minute?" she asks gently, noticing my unease.

I hiccup and shake my head. "N-no, I'll be okay. Sorry," I mumble, wiping my nose.

"Don't apologize," she says kindly, giving me a moment to collect myself anyway, which I appreciate.

For a moment, I consider calling Nick in, but I decide against it. Even though we're close, this may be a little too personal, even for him and I.

"Have you been experiencing any cramping or discomfort in your back or abdomen?" She asks and typing my answer into the computer as I tell her no.

"Any spotting or bleeding?"

"I had some light bleeding last night, it only lasted maybe an hour... I had thought it was my period, but I knew something was off." I explain to her and she nods.

"That was most likely implantation bleeding, which is normal. It can be light spotting of blood, or some women experience heavy bleeding, similar to a period." She continues to take her notes before looking to me again, "Any tenderness in your breasts?"

"Oh, for sure. My breasts have been very sore the past few days,"

"Any nausea or vomiting?"

"Yes, the last couple of days–especially at night, I've been vomiting. I haven't really been sleeping well because of it."

"Yeah, the term 'morning sickness' is misleading... It can happen any time of day, you seem to be experiencing yours during the evening. Any other symptoms you've noticed that you'd like to note?" She asks and I try to think of some things.

"Uhh, I guess I've been more tired than usual, but I chalked that up to being up all night sick...I've also been getting hot flashes recently and I've definitely been more emotional,"

"These are all good to note, thank you very much," She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose before typing again.

She swivels herself back towards me, smiling warmly.

"We'll go ahead with the ultrasound now. But to get an accurate picture, we're going to do a transvaginal ultrasound, if that's okay with you."

"Okay, that's fine," I say, shakily.

She pulls the ultrasound cart to toward her before standing to move the stirrups into place so I can place my feet into them. She places a privacy cloth over me and I take a deep breath.

She puts a covering on the sheath of the ultrasound wand and places lubricant on the top of it. She taps a few buttons on the computer, calibrating the machine before turning towards me with a reassuring smile.

"So this will feel cold and you might feel a little pressure but if you feel any discomfort don't be afraid to tell me." She informs before placing the device inside to create the image.

I try not to wince and try to relax as much as possible. I go to look toward the screen but she has it faced towards her, so I opt to reading her facial expressions.

Dr. Sullivan adjusts her glasses by putting them on the tip of her nose and tilting her head back to get a better view.

She's quite animated with her expressions, her mouth opening slightly in concentration as she looks over the screen.

Although I can't see what she's looking at, she seems pleased, which is a relief.

"Okay, so good sign so far, I see your IUD," Dr. Sullivan says, leaning forward and pointing to the screen. "I can clearly see that it's sitting at the top of your cervix. It’s shifted down and away from your uterus. Do you happen to experience heavy cramping during your cycle?" she asks, her fingers tapping some buttons on the monitor.

"Yes, I do," I reply, the worry still gnawing at me.

She nods thoughtfully. "That could explain the displacement. Sometimes, intense cramping can cause the IUD to shift from its original position. It’s not common, but it does happen. It’s good that we’ve caught it now."

"I see the embryonic sac in, from what I can tell, a great spot. You're measuring at about 6 or 7 weeks along. Size of a blueberry." She says and I stop breathing.

I don't even hesitate to say yes as she asks if I would like to see.

My eyes are glued to the screen as I follow where her finger points, focusing on the grainy image. There it is—a tiny black oval with an even tinier dot in the middle. It's so small, I almost think I'm looking at the wrong thing.

“That’s... them?” I whisper, my voice barely audible as I try to comprehend the sight in front of me.

Dr. Sullivan nods, her expression tender. "That's your baby. It's early, but everything looks promising..."

"Really?" I squeak, still in disbelief, my throat tightening with sudden emotion as more tears fall down my face.

Relief— as she nods in confirmation, handing me the tissue box again.

Hope— as she zooms in, showing me the flickering of the heartbeat.

Joy—as I hear the heartbeat, feeling it sync with the thumping of my own.

For the first time since my dream, I feel joy, something beyond the crippling dread that had loomed over me all day. My heart swells and then bursts as I continue to stare at the flickering dot on the screen, blinking away the tears that blur my vision.

I breathe in shakily before a laugh escapes through a sob.

"Nice strong heartbeat, everything looks as it should... this looks like a healthy pregnancy," Dr. Sullivan announces, gently removing the ultrasound wand but keeping a looped video on the screen, allowing me a few more moments to take it all in.

"She's strong too, just like you,"

"So, the next step—for your safety—would be to remove the IUD today," she continues, her tone calm yet serious. "We can also discuss your options moving forward, including your decision on whether or not you would like to continue with the pregnancy. It's important to weigh all the possibilities and make the choice that's right for you."

"I-I'm gonna continue the pregnancy. It was in no way planned, but–"

"You don't need to explain...I had a feeling" She dismisses me gently, giving me a knowing smile, "I guess this calls for a congratulations,"

"Thank you," I say just above my breath, warmth still blooming through my chest.

After Dr. Sullivan removes my IUD, she tells me to dress while she steps out to calculate my due date.

I stare at the printed ultrasound picture, my heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. I’m not worried about the complications or uncertainties ahead right now. All that matters is this life inside me.

I feel much stronger than I did merely hours ago.

My due date was February 7th, the same as my grandmother’s birthday.

–

I had landed in Maine a few hours ago, my mom and I were organizing all of my grandma's belongings. We spent the afternoon together, grabbing lunch before heading over to my grandmother's house.

The house always felt like a time capsule, preserving every memory. The duck wallpaper in the dining room, the scent of pine and clove, the worn couch cushions, her miniature schnauzer figurine collection, and the framed pressed flowers from her children’s weddings—everything was always in its rightful place. It always looked the same.

Memories of me and my siblings spending weekends here whirling behind my eyelids as I inhale the familiar scent.

It evokes a bittersweet feeling.

We keep the mood light, sharing stories with each memory we packed away. I still saw the flicker of sadness in my mom's eyes, even through her laughter as we reminisced.

Sitting on the carpet in the living room, we go through the boxes full of pictures to put together a collage for the funeral. I come across a picture of my mother pregnant with my older brother.

It's a candid photo in the kitchen of my grandmother's house, her hand resting on her swollen belly that pokes out the bottom of her blue shirt, a soft smile on her face. My grandmother is beside her, beaming with pride, tying an apron around her waist.

My mother looked so young, her freckles prominent on her flushed cheeks and her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

I was always told I looked more like my dad, but seeing her like this, so close to my own age now, I can't help but notice the resemblance.

My mom notices my pause and looks over my shoulder. "That was just a few weeks before your brother was born," she says softly, her voice laced with nostalgia. "Your grandmother knew we were having a boy from the moment we told her,"

Her words send a chill down my spine.

I linger on the photo, feeling a wave of emotion rise up at the mention of my grandmother as the weight of my own news presses heavier on my chest.

"Were you really sick, when you were pregnant?" I ask, lowly.

She hums in thought, "With your brother? Only for maybe the first few weeks. With you though? Forget about it, I was sick everyday for months."

I stay silent for a moment, studying another photo of my mom and dad in the hospital room with my brother the day he was born. My mom is in the hospital bed, looking tired but radiant, while my dad is crouched next to her, gently cradling my brother in his arms.

"He was so bald," I laugh softly, and my mom chuckles beside me.

"His hair was so blonde, it was practically see-through. Your father called him 'egghead' for the first two months of his life," she says, shaking her head and rolling her eyes with a smile.

I look at the photo again, my gaze lingering on my mom's face. Her expression is filled with such warmth and love as she looks at my dad.

"How did you tell dad? You guys were both pretty young," I ask and she stifles a laugh.

"We actually found out together in a gas station bathroom..." She starts off with a slightly shameful smile, "I had been so sick on our camping trip with your aunt and uncle, so I decided on our way back home to take a test. We were shocked to say the least, but we were happy," She shrugs casually.

I think about how I was alone when I found out I was pregnant. Matt wasn't there, and it wasn't his fault, but the last 36 hours of keeping this from him has been torture.

The moment I saw the second line show up with fresh cold sweat still rolling down my neck, I had to bottle up this relentless guilt.

I feel guilt. It wasn't anyone's fault. This is the most serendipitous situation I've ever been in, but I put the blame on me. I have a choice and I'm choosing the route that will completely flip our already hectic lives upside down.

Tethering us together for life.

Even if this decision it feels right, it still carries an enormous weight. It’s not just my life that’s about to change—it's Matt’s too.

I have no doubt Matt will be supportive, but when you're left alone with your thoughts long enough, you can convince yourself of anything.

I've spent every waking minute wondering how he'll react, imagining every possible scenario, from the worst to the best. It's been an endless loop of 'what ifs,' and it’s taken everything in me not to just blurt it out over the phone.

"Were you scared at all? I mean, weren't you like 20?" I press, searching for reassurance in her response.

Her eyes widen before nodding, "Oh, we were scared shitless. Your father almost passed out. We had no idea what we were doing, but hey, we survived. For better or for worse,"

I nod, looking down at my lap and fidgeting with my fingers. My chest feels tight, and the weight of everything becomes almost unbearable.

"Mom, there's something I need to tell you... I–"

"I know," She looks at me with a small smile, her green eyes glistening with tears.

My brows furrow together, giving her a confused look.

"You do?" I ask, my voice trembling.

She shrugs, "I know everything, I'm your mom... Plus, you gagged at the smell of chicken today, that was a dead giveaway." She bites back a smirk and I cover my face, laughing through some tears before looking at her again.

"I guess I’m not as good at hiding things as I thought."

"You never were," She says softly as she scoots closer to me, bringing me into her warm embrace.

I sigh deeply into her, squeezing her tight and breathing in her comforting scent.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, still holding onto me.

"Scared shitless..." I joke and we share a laugh before she pulls back to wipe the tears that escaped against my will, "But I'm happy," I admit, scanning my mother's face for any sign of judgement.

There was none.

She wipes her own few tears, looking at me with only love in her eyes.

"My baby's having a baby,"

"I think grandma sent me this baby," I whisper, allowing my emotions to come through.

My mom tucks my hair behind my ear with her gentle, comforting touch and she listens intently as I tell her my dream. We hold onto each other and cry. I then show her the ultrasound pictures and we talk until the sun disappears.

My phone buzzes softly and I check the message to find Matt’s text that he’s landed and on his way. The reality of his imminent arrival causes a mixed-wave of nausea and guilt to wash over me.

My mom looks at me with a reassuring smile.

"I'll leave you two be so you can talk. I'll see you in the morning, my love." She tells me softly, kissing my cheek and hugging me tight.

Matt and I were gonna stay here during our time in Maine. It's best right now that we have our own space, especially since my brother and his girlfriend are staying by my parents house.

As she heads out, I take a deep breath and text Matt to let him know the door is unlocked. I slip into the shower, trying to calm my racing thoughts and steady my nerves. The warm water helps, but my mind keeps racing as I mentally prepare for the conversation ahead.

Wrapped in a towel, I check my reflection in the mirror, trying to see if I look any more put together than before.

I think this is the best we're going to get.

I jump when I here the front door open and shut, then some feet shuffling. My heart skips a beat.

Matt's here.

"It's just me," I hear him call out as well as more shuffling and a paper bag crinkling.

"Hey! I-I'll be right out!" I call back out, my heart picking up again but I take a deep breath.

I quickly get dressed in a tank top and shorts; there's a heat wave here, and I can't figure out how to adjust the thermostat.

I step out of the bathroom to see Matt standing at the kitchen island, unpacking burgers and fries onto the counter. The aroma of it makes my stomach growl and I realize I hadn't eaten anything since lunch.

I admire him for a second; he's wearing pink sweatpants, a black hoodie and a backwards fitted hat.

He turns at the sound of my presence and his face softens. I'm trembling when he steps forward to embrace me into a tight hug. He buries his face into my neck before giving me a few kisses there.

"Hi," I breath out, my voice shaky.

I was so nervous.

"Hey, you okay?" His voice is so soft, my heart aches. He pulls away, rubbing his hands up and down my arms while scanning my face.

"You're shaking. What's going on?" He presses.

He knows something is up, he can see it all over my face. I shake my head, brushing it off to have one more minute with him.

I pull him back to me, wrapping my arms around his neck this time and locking him against me. He bends down a bit to accommodate but doesn't question it, just hugging me back. His arms wrapping around my waist and pressing our stomachs together.

My heart is slamming against my ribcage and I know he can feel it, his thumb rubbing my hip soothingly tells me he does.

"How are you doing?" His voice is muffled with his face buried into my neck.

"I'm okay, better now that you're here. I missed you," I mumble, kissing the side of his neck and running my hand down between his shoulder blades.

I breath him in, noting the warmth of him and the solidness of his body against me.

"I missed you... I brought us food. I don't know about you, but I'm fucking starving," He puts his hands on my hips to pull back from the hug, but I stay put.

He chuckles, giving me one more squeeze.

I pull back just enough to line our faces up and give him a kiss, which he eagerly returns.

"Thank you for being here, it means a lot," I say against his lips and he pulls back slightly to push my hair out of my face.

"I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else." He hums into another kiss, then places three quick pecks before giving my butt a light tap, signaling that it’s time to let him go.

I finally release him and head to the food on the counter.

"I passed a Five Guys on the way here, so I hope that's good for you," He grabs a handful of fries before munching on them.

As I reach the counter, the smell of the burgers makes my mouth water, and I can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

“Five Guys is perfect, thank you,” I say, grabbing a fry from the bag and tasting its salty warmth.

Matt grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Good, because I was too hungry to think of anything else,” he jokes, unwrapping one of the burgers and handing it to me.

I take it, thanking him quietly, my fingers brushing against his. For a moment, I just look at him.

He’s here, and I should be telling him I’m pregnant with his child, but instead, we’re standing in the kitchen eating burgers. As if I’m trying to cling to this last bit of normalcy before everything changes.

I force myself to take a bite of my burger, moaning at the greasy, savory goodness. Matt smirks at me, taking a hearty bite of his own burger.

“S’good?” he asks through his bite, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

I nod, moaning again in response, savoring the taste as it temporarily distracts me from everything else.

Matt takes a sip of his drink before bringing a napkin to my face and wiping the corner of my mouth and chin.

"Wipe ya lip, kid," He teases and I roll my eyes, grabbing the napkin from him.

Matt inhales another large bite of his burger, and we slip into our familiar rhythm.

He tells me about his brief trip to Chicago, and I’m relieved to hear he managed to gather a few funny stories and catch at least one day of the festival. He’s notably enthusiastic while he talks, and I can’t help but smile at his excitement.

He also reassured me that Chris wasn't upset at all, which I already knew from the sweet text he sent me this morning.

“Well, I’m glad you had fun,” I say, trying to match his enthusiasm.

I then give him the rundown for the next few days while we prepare for the funeral and memorial.

We continue eating, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as we enjoy the burgers and each other’s company.

It feels so easy, so light. It always is with us. But underneath the surface, the words I need to say weigh heavy on my mind, threatening to break the easy rhythm.

Matt watches me closely, his own burger forgotten for the moment as he sees me disappear inside my head again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, his eyes look between mine. “You seem… I don’t know, you're acting weird.” He tries to find the right words.

"Matt..." I go to dismiss him, getting up slowly but he cuts me off, standing up too.

"No, I'm serious. You've been acting weird for days, and I'm no longer 2000 miles away for you to push me away or avoid me." He steps closer to me, trapping me against the counter with his arms on either side of me.

"Is it your about grandma? Did something else happen while I was gone?" He throws out, looking between my eyes.

"I–" I try to speak up but my voice gets caught in my throat and I get lost in the icy storm of his relentless gaze.

"It's not just my grandma," I manage to say, the admission causing him to soften slightly, a glimmer of relief at the small breakthrough.

"Okay, so talk to me, sweetheart. Please, I've been worried sick about you. You have no idea," he pleads, his breath brushing against my skin.

"I didn't know how to tell you..." I try to put together my words but I feel like I'm making it all worse.

I watch as his eyebrows pinch together and he leans down more so he's eye level with me instead towering over me.

"Tell me what, kid. I'm not a mind reader," His voice strains, frustration evident in his face.

When I try to break eye contact with him he pulls my chin to align our eyes again.

"What, d'you crash my car?" he guesses, clearly joking, his eyebrows raising playfully.

I can't help but smile and snort at his attempt to ease the tension.

"No, it’s not that," I say, my voice cracking slightly. "It's much bigger than that," I trail off and he waits expectantly.

"I uh– I went to the doctor yesterday," I pause and study his face, which drops ever so slightly, seeming to be bracing himself.

He stays silent, whether it was out of patience or fear, nothing could have prepared for my next sentence.

"I went to confirm that I was pregnant," I finally blurt out, my voice shaky, and he freezes.

Not one muscle moves in his face or his body.

"You're..." His voice cracks and he clears his dry throat, hitting his chest, "Are you serious?"

"I'm seven weeks, or a month and a half," I stammer, my voice wavering. "I don't really know how to—"

"Seven..." He whispers in disbelief, the shock settling in and I nod. "Y-you were on birth control– you have that AED–"

"IUD, yes, I did. It still happened, that shit is useless if it moves out of place," I explain and he looks down between us.

"A-and everything's okay, you're okay?" He looks up at me again, holding onto my face.

I take hold of his wrists, rubbing my thumb over his skin.

"I'm fine, the baby's fine..." I say softly and his eyes widen in realization as he pales.

"Oh my fucking god," He pulls back, cupping his hands over his mouth. "I need to sit down."

"Okay, okay. Do you want water?" I panic, hoping he doesn't pass out or puke.

He takes a seat at the dining table, shaking his head before taking off his hat and leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Oh my god, I thought I was crazy..." He says, his voice cracking with nerves as he presses his palms into his eye sockets.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I had a feeling all fucking week," he says, his voice still shaky, and my brows knit together.

"I knew something was up. You were acting different. You were moodier than usual, you were napping all the time—and you never nap... and your tits are huge," he adds, and I roll my eyes.

"Sorry, that’s beside the point," he continues quickly, "I just couldn’t shake the feeling that you could be... I think I was trying to convince myself you weren't, but then you were so sick before I left," he rambles, staring blankly at the wall.

"It's a lot to take in, I know." I swallow thickly as I watch him process everything.

"You're pregnant," he says finally, looking at me again, this time with tears brimming his eyes. "And you were dealing with all of this by yourself," His voice is low and I shake my head, moving to stand between his legs, cupping his face gently.

"Hey, no. None of that... How could you have known?" I shush him and pull his head towards my chest.

His hands rest behind my thighs, his thumb lightly stroking my right leg. I run my fingers through his hair, comforting him as much as he's comforting me.

"I've been so scared to tell you..." I confess softly and he pulls back slightly, looking up at me with his brows furrowed.

"I know this wasn't part of our plan...at least not for a while. But before I took a test, the night my grandma passed, I had a dream. I was here, in my grandmother's garden... and she told me I was pregnant. Matt, the feeling I had," I pause, struggling to find the right words.

"It was the most intense, pure form of happiness I've ever felt. I can't even describe it to you..." I trail off.

I shake my head, "I know, I sound crazy. But I think this was meant to happen." I whisper, heat creeping up my neck at the admission.

He’s silent for a moment, absorbing my words. Then, a slow smirk carves a crease into the side of his mouth. "You are fucking crazy…" he murmurs, his playful tone breaking the tension as his smile lines deepen.

I huff a breathy laugh, the sound catching in my throat as my emotions take over again. Tears blur my vision, and I can’t hold them back any longer.

"Are you mad?" I squeak, letting my fear slip through the dam I built up.

He's immediately shaking his head, his eyes widen with sincerity, "Mad? Of course not. I mean, I thought we'd maybe get a cat first but..." He says, quirking his lip and I can't help the laugh that escapes through a sob.

I was the definition of an emotional wreck.

He gently squeezes my hips as I tip my head back to collect myself.

"Look at me," he says firmly, and I sniffle and hiccup before forcing myself to look at him. "Am I surprised? Yes. Terrified? Definitely. But, not even close to mad."

He wipes my tears tenderly, "We're going to be okay. Take it easy, alright? Deep breaths," His tone gentle but assertive, dragging me out of the pit of my dark thoughts.

I sigh as his thumbs draw circles on the exposed skin on my hips.

"I'm sorry," I say and he pulls me to sit sideways on his lap this time.

"Why are you sorry?" he asks softly, intertwining our fingers and bringing my hand to his mouth for a kiss.

"Our lives are going to change and I feel like it's my fault,"

"C'mere," He pulls me in fully, wrapping his arms around my waist. "I love you, and we're going to get through this... We were gonna do it anyway; we're just getting a headstart, yeah? Everything is going to work out," He tells me softly and I can tell he means every word.

Matt never says anything he doesn't mean.

"Also, don't say stupid shit like this is your fault. Last time I checked, it takes two to tango," He says firmly, lightly slapping my hip.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat as I lean into him completely, resting my head on his shoulder. His hand rubs gentle circles on my back, and I close my eyes, letting myself soak in the comfort of his presence.

"I missed you so much," I whisper, my voice muffled against his shirt. "I've been so sick, this kid might be trying to kill me," I try to joke, and he breathes a laugh into my shoulder.

A few beats of silence pass, broken only by the distant sound of crickets outside and the occasional creak of the old house settling.

"We're having a kid," He speaks up, realization laced in his voice and I hum against him. "Maybe we're both fucking crazy,"

I stifle a laugh and pull back to look at him, "D'wanna see it?" I ask, getting up from his lap and he looks to my stomach with a raised brow.

"Kid, you're not showing yet," he says, leaning back into the chair with his arms crossed, a playful smirk on his face and I roll my eyes.

"No, the ultrasound. Hold on," I say as I head to the counter to grab the pictures from my bag.

I pull out the strip of photos, and when I turn back, I see Matt standing up and stretching. He takes off his sweatshirt and his shirt riding up slightly, exposing a sliver of his stomach. Heat rises to my face but I can't stare too long though because he's walking towards me to look over my shoulder.

"Okay, what am I lookin' at?" He stands behind me, his hands on his hips as his head tilts in concentration.

"You see this black circle here?" I point to the sonogram, and he leans in closer, his breath warm against my neck as he grabs hold of the paper to steady it.

"Yeah, that's it?" He asks, narrowing his eyes and I giggle.

"No, do you see the tinier white blob inside it? That's the baby." I explain and his face scrunches for a second, looking at the picture again.

"No fucking way," he says in disbelief, a wide smile breaking across his face. "That tiny thing?" His voice raises a pitch as he looks at me, eyes wide with awe, "Can barely fucking see that," He says playfully before rubbing his eyes.

"Mhm," I can't help but giggle as he wraps an arm around me, pulling me in and placing a kiss to my temple. "Just wait til you hear it, the heartbeat was insane. It was so fast," I add and he freezes.

The realization in his face settles in even deeper as I tell him that, his soft smile returning.

"You heard the heartbeat?" He whispers, looking between my eyes and I nod.

"Yeah, yesterday. They emailed me the video of it, I'll show you in a bit if you want," I tell him and he kisses me then like he can't help himself.

"That's fucking nuts... do you feel pregnant?" he asks, his voice curious and his eyes slowly lowering to my stomach peaking out of my tank top.

I shake my head, "Not at all. I just feel like shit... and constantly bloated," I admit, laughing softly.

He lightly chuckles himself, a charmed smile on his face as he reaches to rubs my stomach a couple times.

"We're really gonna have to lock in, kid." He moves around me to pull me into a full hug, pressing our stomachs together.

"Okay, gamer, acting like this is a video game..." I scoff teasingly and he bends down, laughing into my neck.

"Well, what else do you want me to say? We're leveling up..." he continues the joke and I jab his side with my finger.

"Ow," he fake-cries, clutching his side with exaggerated pain before breaking into a fit of giggles.

"Stop saying corny shit, you goof," I warn, though his laughter makes it impossible not to smile.

I bury my face in his chest, my ear pressed against his heart as we settle into a comfortable silence.

"Now we really gotta get our own place," He says and I can hear his smirk.

"I don't know…" I shrug slightly, considering. "Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stick around for a bit. It might be nice to have the extra help before we go completely on our own."

He pulls back slightly to look at me, tilting his head with an inquisitive expression. "You really think my brothers will be any help? They don’t know anything about babies."

I snort. “Probably not, but neither do we." I reason and his mouth shrugs in defeat.

"Good point... I guess we can wait it out, we're not in a rush. It'll definitely give us more time to research where would want to be somewhat permanently," He points out.

I hum into him and try not stress about that. The reality is we'd be putting ourselves in a tough spot—both our families are here on the East Coast, but our jobs and lives are rooted in LA.

It's easy to go back and forth when it was just us, but now we're gonna have a kid.

"I already hear your mind racing," his voice breaks me out of my thoughts as he rubs my back. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out..." he says softly, and I sigh deeply.

My stomach turns when I get a whiff of the food still laid out on the table.

"Matt," I say, pulling back slowly, holding my stomach.

"Mm?" he hums, looking at me with concern as I put my hand over my mouth.

"The smell of those burgers is making me sick now," I try not to laugh, and he shakes his head, immediately tossing all the trash into the large paper bag it came in.

"Alright, where's the incinerator?"

[fastandcarlos]

Sleepy Bug : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: it's the surprise of a lifetime for carlos as you flew halfway around the world for him, and as jetlag greets you, carlos is determined to see you getting the rest you deserve

A heavy sigh escaped from you as your hands brushed over your face, dancing lazily through your strands of hair. Your eyes were heavy as you struggled to keep them open, the effects of many busy days at work, coupled with your last minute to fly halfway around the world to support Carlos for the weekend were taking their toll. 

You barely had the strength to carry yourself around the bathroom as you finished your night routine, stretching your fingertips out to turn the light off so you didn’t have to take any more steps than you needed to.  

“Come here you,” Carlos smiled, extending his arm out across the bed, inviting you to fill the space that was beside him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so tired in my life.” 

You hummed in response as you placed your phone down, tossing the clothes you’d taken off into your suitcase. “As much as I love coming to support you, jetlag is my worst enemy right now, I can’t begin to tell you how much I hate it.” 

Once you were sorted, you threw yourself down onto the bed and rested your head against Carlos' arm, feeling him drape the duvet over your frame so that you could get as much warmth from it as possible. 

“How’s that now?” 

“It’s almost perfect.” 

“Only almost perfect?” Carlos chuckled. 

You hummed as you rolled further into Carlos' side, tucking yourself into him as tightly as you possibly could. Carlos' hand moved from the top of your shoulder to your waist, allowing his head to rest down against the top of yours with a kiss against it for extra comfort. 

“Now it’s perfect,” you whispered, resting your hand against Carlos' chest. “I think I could stay here forever with how sleepy I feel right now.” 

“I just can’t believe you’re here,” Carlos chuckled, keeping his eyes on you, watching you closely. “I was all prepared to fall asleep in this big bed all by myself tonight, wishing that you were here with me. And now here you are, as if you knew just how much I wanted to have you here.” 

It was the surprise of a lifetime for Carlos never expecting you to be there. The excitement he felt when he opened his hotel room door to see you stood before him was a feeling that he knew would not be matched for some time. 

Carlos never took for granted the sacrifices that you made for him, for most of the week you’d called him and told him about how tired and stressed work had left you, yet you still found the energy to fly out and make sure that you were there for him. 

“I don’t have to be at the track until lunch tomorrow, so we’ve got plenty of time to lay here and make sure that you catch up on all your sleep too,” Carlos informed you, keeping his fingers tracing along your skin. 

You nodded in response, too tired to muster up a proper reply. However as you began to think about tomorrow, you couldn’t help but begin to worry about all the logistics that came with being a driver’s girlfriend. 

“Will they let me in tomorrow? We haven’t organised a pass or anything,” you reminded Carlos , your voice a faint whisper that he could only just understand. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it all under control,” Carlos assured you, “whilst you were in the bathroom, I made all the necessary calls and made sure you have access for everywhere for the whole weekend.” 

There was nowhere else that Carlos wanted you than by his side now that you were there. As soon as he saw you, he knew what he had to do, and luckily for him, Ferrari was always incredibly accommodating to you.  

The longer that time passed, Carlos could see you struggling to stay awake more and more. “Rest, sleepy bug,” Carlos told you, not wanting you to stay awake just for him. 

“That’s a new one,” you chuckled at the surprise new nickname that came from Carlos . He was forever creating new names for you, toying with finding ones that he knew would stick. 

The smile on your face was everything that Carlos needed to know that this was yet another nickname that he could add to his least of ones to use and surprise you with when you least expected them. They were nicknames that he would never share with anyone else, keeping them safe between just the two of you, not quite wanting to show that side of him to the rest of the world. 

“You need to sleep,” Carlos smirked as your voice perked up once again, “I can’t begin to imagine how tired you must be after all the work and travelling you’ve done over the past few days, you must be insane.” 

“It’s worth it,” you assured him, “being here to cheer you on is always my favourite thing to do.” 

Yet another kiss was planted to the top of your head as Carlos spoke, “I don’t think I’ve really told you yet just how much it means to me to have you here, I can’t believe you came here for me, no one’s done anything like this for me before.” 

“I’m your biggest fan, I’ve got to be here,” you reminded him, pressing gently against his toned chest. “It’s worth it for all these moments anyway, when I get to have you all to myself.” 

Carlos hummed in agreement with you, “these are the moments that mean the most, like it’s only the two of us who exist in this crazy world.” 

“That would be nice,” you laughed, “but unfortunately I have to share you with thousands of fans.” 

“None of them compare to you though.” 

“So cheesy,” you teased, feeling Carlos jab in against your side. “I wonder how you do it sometimes.” 

Carlos' eyes rolled at your remark, knowing exactly what you were like. You loved to make fun of him, tease him, but he would never want for it to be any other way. As silence descended once again, Carlos felt your body relax in his hold, the sign he needed to know that you were feeling sleepy once again.  

“Close your eyes,” Carlos instructed, tilting his head to make sure that he could see you doing so. “As much as I love you, I don’t want to talk to you anymore, I just want to make sure that you’re finally getting the rest that you deserve.” 

Your head shook against Carlos' chest, “that’s rude,” you teased, hearing him scoff above you. 

“I said I love you,” he laughed, “but you’re so sleepy, it’s what you need.” 

“I’ll sleep if you sleep,” you suggested, “you’ve got a pole position to achieve tomorrow, it’s the least you could do considering I’ve flown all the way out here for you.” 

“I’ll make sure that I’m pole just for you,” Carlos whispered, making his promise to you, “knowing you’re cheering me on in the garage will be the boost I’ll need to get it too.” 

You never doubted Carlos' ability, knowing just how capable he was to get his car at the front of the grid. 

“Come on sleepy bug,” Carlos smiled, “goodnight my love.” 

“Goodnight Carlos.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[catiuskaa]

i would LOVE to read your vision of boyfriend by dove cameron....... but w minsung x reader 😏

OH MARSYYYY marsyyyy ajdbkskfla youuu how dare youu take my sleep away from me like thisssss kabfoqbfoskj i barely got to 300 words and i was like “yup. there’s no fucking way i’m not writing this.” so @lyramundana @stayconnecteed, pasarla muy bien mis amores bskdbakd id a la iglesia después

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄-𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄���𝐄𝐒.

sum. gentlemen like them make for a better boyfriend, and minho and han will let you know as soon as you come over… they know first times pave the way for more.

yes, the cursive makes a cute lil sentence, kill me

wc. 5.6k (me cago en todo mars)

cw. suggestive, smut! cursive: a lifestyle, the restaurant scene came out really high-class? fem!reader x dom!simp!minho x sub!needy!jisung, the reader is cheating on her boyfriend, so many things happen (praise, degradation, hair pulling, thigh riding, dry humping, oral fixation, marking, mild choking, corruption kink, use of pet names, accidental orgasm denial, oral (f rec.), begging, fingering (f&m rec.) dirty talk, overstim, mild bondage, unprotected piv sex [don't!<3], creampie, breeding kink, dacryphilia). holy shit this is nasty man, aftercare (mandatory) and just have fun lovelies <3<3<3

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

Minho has to breathe in, slowly as he smiles, a cat-like grin that has already threatened many people’s hearts, grabbing Jisung’s wrist and pulling him a bit closer.

His company that night —his company forever, if anyone bothered to ask or wanted to know— doesn’t ask why, merely tilts his head, watching, waiting.

“Twelve o’clock. Red and white dress.”

It’s a mumble that the older man makes with his eyes half closed, yet he opens them again after a beat of silence. He grunts, a low, whispered voice, not daring to interrupt the shy flow of music in the fine restaurant, but still takes Han’s chin in his hand, gripping it softly and tilting it a bit further to his left.

“That’s more like one o’clock— oh.” Minho doesn’t dare voice nor even question the way blood rushes to the deepest parts of his body when Jisung licks his lips and stares back at him, lowering his hand with a gentle touch that sets his skin ablaze.

He can’t help but let his eyes trail towards your figure again. The dress you’re wearing, a mix of colours that gingerly combines with that of their own suits, that clings to your shape in a way that threatens his own sanity and the stability of their plan, the impulse of running to you head first wondering what the crash would feel like. He stops himself, and breathes in again, deeper this time in an attempt to stop wondering how the dress would look just a few floors over them, in their hotel room, preferably on the floor, and he finally does, catching the faint scent of Jisung’s new cologne.

Alone. It’s funny to him. Ridiculous, yes, because only a fool would leave such a beauty like you in a situation like that —on your own, waiting in boredom close to death, or even worse, resignation—, and he’s sure that if he were in your place, he would’ve left a while ago. Hell, if he ever pulled something like that, he’d allow for Jisung to choke him —in a non-sexual sense, at least for once—, but he can’t help feeling giddy at the empty sight of the chair in front of you. Almost as if you were waiting for them to get close, to take a seat. And then, maybe you’d smile. Like a little treat.

A cute gift.

The image makes him smirk as he licks his lips. Minho knows he’d wrap you up in a heartbeat.

“What do you think?” He ponders the question lowly, still waiting for the waiter as the restaurant prepares their table. The one next to you, of course.

Jisung’s eyes widen for a moment. “What do I think?”

He gulps, and Minho reels in the way his boyfriend is already blushing, the red dust on his cheeks making him think twice and wonder if he could afford having a little snack before properly taking you both as a dessert, and he can’t help but snicker, tonguing his cheek.

“What are the chances?”

Minho’s fingers stroke Jisung’s palm.

“Well, I did as we agreed. And now the plan follows, jagi. I’m sure you can play your part now, mmh?” His voice is sultry, low, and a whisper, one that deepens Han’s blush and darkens his eyes even further, making his breath hitch to Minho’s amusement. “As if you can’t do whatever you want with that pretty little mouth of yours.”

“Min—”

“Welcome.” The whispered whine that Jisung had been just about to say dies on his lips, as tragically —yet not quite as brutally— as the unfortunate and inopportune waiter in Minho’s head.

“Your party for two is ready. Come with me.”

Shrugging away the comment ‘with you here, no one’s coming’, Minho follows behind Han and nods his head after being pointed to his table.

White-collar thieves could have plenty of money and exotic pairs of jewelry. Take any gemstone, for example. In unknown eyes, it may seem flawlessly perfect, but that’s merely a refracted illusion. Its core, deep in there, remains a secret, and it’d take a good crack for it to be seen.

No, this couple had it clear. A thief could steal anything but achieve nothing. And as Minho sends his partner in crime a wink, and the plan finally starts, its gears already set in place, he knows that whatever the outcome of it might end up being, nothing would give a better reward than trying to steal you tonight.

And it all starts with a silly trip of his boyfriend’s foot.

Jisung’s hand saves him from ending head first against your thighs —did he really save himself, Minho wonders, because the thought sounded like heaven—, and he watches as the younger one rushes back up, an apologetic grin on his face that he had seen so many times before and still made him want to kneel in front of Jisung and worship him to death and beyond.

“Sorry,” Ji smiles, bashful, his little dimples showing. He pretends to cringe, an action only Minho can see through.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. Are you alright?” The genuine worry that slips through your tone softens the men.

“Of course. Yes.” Jisung chimes right back. “Such a kind lady.” He grins, pulling his hand in front of him.

Minho is just watching, and the feeling of witnessing such a moment nearly has him bulging in his tailored pants as shy little Jisung kisses the back of your hand.

He can’t believe how obsessed they both are with you, enthralled at the mere thought of having you closer, and he doesn’t care, needing more, more of your confused smile as you stare at his boyfriend, more of the gentle blush that creeps up to your cheeks, more of the way your hair is neatly tied up and away from your face, feeling the impulse to ruin you on the tip of his fingers.

“What’s a place like this doing, surrounding a beauty such as yours?” Minho smiles, taking a seat at his table. Calm. Mindful. With the plan in his head.

You chuckle so politely that it makes Minho fidget with his rings, a laugh so melodic that tickles his heart and warms his insides.

“I stay in this hotel.” Minho knows. He’s seen you before.

“Alone?” Jisung smiles, a bit cheeky, sitting and moving his chair at an angle, making it easier to keep the conversation going.

The way you sigh makes them both angry and giddy. They had seen your partner before, and they almost couldn’t believe their eyes, genuinely wondering what had the ugly man done to deserve such an angel. If it were for them, not for too long.

“Up until twenty minutes ago, I wasn’t, but…”

Crystal clear. They both can see the resignation in your eyes, and Minho can’t help but feel it trail up his skin, needing to do something about it immediately.

“I know it may seem too straightforward,” his mouth is dry and he can feel his ears turning red. “But I wouldn’t mind the extra company tonight. Right, jagi?”

The smile he shoots at Jisung is soft and sweet, feelings conveyed between layers and layers worth of things he hasn’t said yet. A comforting grin that Ji matches, holding his hand from below the table and giving it a light squeeze, catching it.

“Yes. It’d be a pity, using that wonderful dress on such a dull night.” His boyfriend turns to you, smiling widely. “Join us?”

God, yes. The squirm of satisfaction that threatens to leave past his lips has him fidgeting with his fingers, cracking his knuckles in an oh-so-giddy attempt to hide just how excited he is when he sees you stand up and grin sheepishly, moving your chair and settling on their table.

If one tried and overthinked it too much, it wouldn’t work. People tend to feel those kinds of things, the rush, the nervousness, the desperation. Not attractive on a stranger in the slightest. And Minho knows he’s one lucky bastard just getting to sit with you at the same table, sharing sentences with Jisung across the rounded table with just a blink and a cheeky stare through his lashes.

And as the night goes on, sneaky glances, touches, soft hands over yours, their eyes deep in colour, on you as you wine and dine, the white-collar thieves swiftly steal your heart for the night.

A fever dream. You find no other way to word it, how they get under your skin and into your head, how their cheeky antics keep getting you closer and closer in a way that almost baffles you. You can’t even think about that sad excuse of a boyfriend you have when Jisung’s hand brushes your arm again or when Minho’s eyes lock on yours, almost undressing you under his gaze.

You couldn’t call it a red flag. After all, their collars are pure white.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

Jisung can’t hold back any longer.

He opens the door to their hotel room for you, and in an unrestrained need, grabs your wrist and finally pulls you to him.

Minho smirks, closing the door with a thud by leaning on it, watching as his boyfriend ruins and smears your lipstick, giving it just a bit before he pulls him from the back of his shirt, tutting at him.

“Such a needy little slut, mmh? Couldn’t even wait for me?”

His hands thread on Jisung’s hair, pulling in a way that has him already on edge. Minho takes his blazer off under the eager eyes of his company, and also takes Ji’s red one, leaving both on the couch that sits in the corner of the room as he licks his lips and takes his hands to his boyfriend’s neck, kissing him deeply, hungrily, humming a snicker when he feels his cheeky little hands tugging and pulling on his white shirt.

“Brat.” He whispers on his lips. “We have to treat our guest first, don’t we, jagi?”

Heat pools on your lower belly, disarmed as the two gorgeous, disheveled men stare at you with a glow in their eyes so deep it could fuck you alone. Both stare at the other with a sly grin on their faces, the phrases they want to say hidden behind the opacity of their eyes, clouded in lust.

Cheekily, Minho grabs Jisung by his belt, speaking at mere inches away from his lips.

“Be a good boy and hang on the door the do not disturb sign, mmh?” His eyes trail from Han’s neck, reeling on his heavy breathing and how his big brown eyes flutter when his hand teases him, tickling his skin with a brush of his fingers, doing tender and slow motions, opening the lower buttons on his shirt and going down his happy trail.

Jisung only nods weakly, in a daze as Minho lets go of him, blinking slowly and letting out a playful chuckle when he teasingly smacks his ass as he makes his way to the door.

“Now, what do we have here?”

Your throat feels dry and you yearn for the moment in which you’ll finally drown in Minho’s lips. He can tell, approaching you slowly, his steps barely making a sound on the carpet below.

His hands brush away the few hairs that Ji got loose, his hand traveling from the shell of your ear to just a bit after your pulse point. “Such a beauty.” Your heart swoons as he whispers, something that sounds more for him than for you, which does nothing but worsen the situation below your dress.

Licking your lips, you watch as he leisurely sits on the edge of the bed, two fingers teasingly making a ‘come hither’ motion as he spreads his legs, making space for you between them, his tailored clothing hugging his lush thighs in a way that nearly makes you salivate.

“I won’t bite, gorgeous. Not unless you want me to,” he teases, his hands stroking your knees while he sits just a short step or two away from you.

The sentence not only makes you shiver in anticipation, but also makes a small part of you wonder if there could be anything you wouldn’t let these men do to you. Dare I say non-existent, the list seems to be pretty short, as you nibble on your lip and answer to how he pats his thigh, taking a seat.

“There we go.” He grins with a low hum, his hands traveling far past the fabric that covers your thighs, grabbing and kneading the skin under his grasp. “Wonder how long it has passed since you’ve been treated right.” He clicks his tongue. “We have to do something about it, don’t we, jagi?”

He’s talking to Jisung as if you weren’t there. As if they’re taking you, a pretty diamond gingerly falling into their white-gloved hands, and —make no mistake—, you’re letting them, and it’s the end of the story, because you’d be a fool not to.

Besides, it’s already too late to back down. You want this. You couldn’t care less of what happens to your boyfriend after he left and scurried back wherever, attempting to leave you with the burden of paying for everything again without having to deal with the consequences nor the guts to face you. He was going to have a fun time, arriving at your previously shared room and finding that your things had been already packed and you were no longer anywhere to be seen, leaving behind you not only the bill of the restaurant —both his and yours, and then the one you had with Minho and Jisung, of course, an autograph on the receipt and all— but of the entire week you had been abroad, for all the times he had been tricking you and pulling your leg.

Tonight, you weren’t just being stolen. You were being freed.

“What makes you tick? Mmh, gorgeous?” Minho gets you back from your mind, naughty hands traveling underneath your dress and playing with the back ends of your underwear.

He’s dying to kiss you, and he will —he will die trying and he’d be happy to do so—, and he can see it in your eyes that you want just as much, the dark of his reading yours with an ease that does nothing but aggravate the situation, knowing that if he were to kiss you as he had been thinking —ever since he and Jisung had seen you and your boyfriend— would cause you more things than neither you nor him could process, leaving both of your minds blank, wet, legs tangled with one another.

Minho cherishes the way you tremble in his grasp, feeling Jisung’s hands surprise you from behind, playing with the zipper of your white and red dress.

“Baby, you’re already grinding on my thigh.” It’s teasing, it’s a menace, and he fucking loves it, seeing how said sentence darkens both your and Han’s eyes. “What are you thinking, mmh? Want us to figure you out as we go?” He licks his timidly swollen lips, his hands traveling down your legs to take your heels off, discarding the red sole shoes by the end of the bed.

He kisses Jisung over your shoulder, and a moan leaves your lips when said motion —him moving forward, that is— makes him tense his thigh underneath you.

“Jagi, do me a favour.” He whispers on his boyfriend’s lips, next to your ear, as if he’s telling Han a secret you shouldn’t know —but you don’t care whether you should or shouldn’t. You’re already going to hell for cheating on that low-life you call a boyfriend. Could be the wine speaking, or how your pussy is already leaking, but if you’re going to hell, you’ll make it so that these fine gentlemen help you reach heaven first.

“Ladies first, okay? Let’s treat her how a princess deserves.”

Jisung’s eyes smile as he bites Minho’s lip, finally taking your dress off of you, lowering the zipper in a way that his hand strokes your skin as the dress goes further down, and doesn’t stop kissing him, even when his greedy hands take the dress off your shoulders, and travel forward, tickling you menacingly, from your belly to your chest, teasingly playing with the little bow that decorates your white bra before letting his fingers go further up your cleavage.

Minho’s hands move your hips against his thigh, starting to feel the wetness and warmth not only on the fabric between his leg and your sweet sweet core, but on his skin.

He chuckles, panting on your ear as Jisung’s lips hungrily travel to your back, kissing and scratching with his teeth. A man blinded crazy by lust, his hand finally reaching your neck.

The way the action makes you moan is almost obscene, your cheeks as red as Jisung’s forgotten blazer and trousers. His grasp, gingerly cold, as if the rest of his warmth was traveling to other parts of his body —parts you weren’t complaining to be feeling against your lower back—, was a little bit over your collarbone, and it drove you wild.

“Hyung—” It’s a whine so desperate that nearly has him crumbling apart. Jisung’s eyes are teary when Minho’s lock into the dark brown full of lust that they have turned to. Merely pecking his lips, Minho smiles.

“I’m going to eat you alive.” It’s a desperate groan, and his partner’s eyes only glow in a darker shimmer, as if he yearned for just that. “Go on, jagi. Have fun.”

Before you can expect it, Jisung lets out a moan, grabbing your waist and pulling you from Minho onto the bed. Your impending release gets ruined, and you whine, your hand unconsciously traveling to your face.

As the younger one hurriedly finishes taking your dress off of you, discarding it somewhere on the floor —a view that, later on, would make Minho grin cheekily— said gentleman moves and lays down next to you while his partner leaves hickeys all over your inner thighs.

Only pants, whines, and moans leave your lips, low and dimmed, overwhelmed by all that you’re feeling, hiding behind your hand. But they’re gentlemen, after all. Ever-so-observant, Minho’s smile is sweet when he takes your hand and interlinks your fingers.

“Beauty,” he calls, his voice sultry. “Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

It takes a shy, confused shake from you for him to tut at his boyfriend, and Han stops his antics, licking his lips, his eyes glowing as he strokes your thighs, gingerly comforting you out of your daze.

“Like a traffic light, yeah? Green for when you want to keep going, yellow when you want to slow down, and red if you want to stop.” His hand softly moves, trailing soft motions on your cheek. “Don’t wait for us to ask. If we’re playing the figure-it-out game, I want to hear you moaning ‘green’ every single minute. Good?” You blush, nodding. “So. Colour?”

You give it a thought. You’ve brought up things like this before to your boyfriend. Things he shamed you for. Things you had been wanting to do for a while. And as you stare back at Minho, his eyes widen for a moment when he sees you smirking lightly.

To hell and heaven with it. It had been a close call before, back at the hotel’s restaurant. It’s stupid now, and you can’t believe you almost ran away back to your room and wasted such a divinely given chance like this one.

“Green.” You smile. “Figure me out better than I know myself.”

Jisung’s mind is completely foggy and hazy, his hands kneading your thighs, waiting, panting at your sudden forwardness. He can barely form a coherent thought, his mind consumed by the need to keep going until your taste is all that he knows.

You lift yourself, sitting on the bed, as the focus of the two men’s attention while your hand reaches for Jisung’s chin, and he’s dead. He’s gotta be, because as he moves to keep feeling your soft grasp on him, he swears he stops breathing.

“I’m going to kiss you.” It’s an announcement. Not quite a question but a warning, a narration of sorts. It keeps Minho waiting for a movement, something, whatever, anything to be able to follow what they had started, surprised by the newfound shimmer in your eyes.

And you can only confirm the whole chain of unbridled thoughts that haunt you —that you want to devour them with kisses, that you would let them eat you whole, unashamed, unrestrained, and overly needy— when, after closing your eyes, you erase any space that was between your lips and Jisung’s.

It’s not the butterflies in your stomach, but your own pulse rumbling in your ears, so loud that you think that either of the two men to whom you knew crystal clear that you were going to give yourself to tonight could hear it without making any sort of effort.

Nasty, desperate, wild. Jisung is gone, set on making any trace of red lush lipstick disappear from your lips. He starts kissing you more passionately, taking both of his hands to your nape, pulling on your hair in an attempt to get you even closer to him, the need for oxygen merely a necessity far less important than to keep kissing you and lick away your strawberry lipstick.

“This is crazy,” you pant, gasping for air.

“You make me crazy.”

He’s breathless, and he just can’t stop kissing you. Not when you’re giving yourself back to him with almost the same intensity, the raw need for more overperforming any sort of kissing skills that Jisung thought he had before. Matter of fact, he can’t think. Not when his hands travel from your waist, your skin like a canvas he’d die to keep marking, trailing a teasing path up your back, making you shiver until he finally undoes the barrier that keeps him from touching, and finally tasting —licking, spitting, marking, fondling, kissing, biting, better if it’s all at the same time— your breasts. He swiftly takes your bra off of you, as if it burns. It would’ve made you laugh, but as he cages you against the mattress the only thing you can do is moan.

Yes. Yes. Yes, More. Please. Don’t stop.

There’s a light bounce of the mattress when Minho takes a seat behind you, and Han whines when you leave his lips.

You’re a mess. There’s no other way to describe it, and Minho loves it. He loves how you’re in between Jisung and him. How you’re drooling and moaning, your head leaning against his shoulder as greedy little Hannie goes back to where he was heading before. He loves how you’re not holding back anymore, your right hand pulling on his boyfriend’s hair and your right one on his nape, gingerly playing with it as you squirm under the pleasure that Ji’s mouth brings you.

“Beauty,” Minho’s voice is impossibly low when he calls for you, pressing soft, tender kisses on your pulse point. You whine, a strained ‘yeah?’ that kills him. “How do we feel about this?”

You open your eyes, not really aware when you had closed them, and you look at Minho’s soft hands, his rings shimering under the room’s indirect light. It’s a lace, your fuzzy brain tells you. It has the words Dior written several times on it.

“G-green…” it’s a whine, it’s slurry, and it turns to a hitched breath when Han’s fingers slide inside you with ease, curling and thrusting until you can’t do anything else but moan and whine, trembling as you come, pleasure hitting you in waves.

You cling onto Minho like a rock, as much as you can, his body behind you stroking you in a way that makes you shiver while Ji helps you ride out your high.

“Look at him, princess.”

His tone is slightly mean, and you sigh, feeling his arms surround you.

“He came just from tasting you.”

You’re still a bit out, panting, but your eyes turn to him, whose head is leaning on your thigh. One of your hands moves to stroke his hair, and you grow hotter watching how he shudders for a second.

“He was grinding against the mattress. Like a little horny slut.”

It’s shameful. Minho’s tone is one for mocking. He’s… torturing him. And yet he looks like he might just come one more time from that alone.

“M-min…” Hannie whimpers, a slurred sound of pleasure.

“Oh, beauty. He even wants more.” Jisung’s eyes open, staring at you two from below, and he moans.

You blink, but slowly, you seem to get it. Or, if you asked Jisung, you were a godess sent straight-out from heaven.

“But can he… beg like a… a pretty slut?”

Minho nearly comes untouched at your tone. The way they’re already corrupting you, how you’re degrading Jisung already, watching how he’s unconciously grinding against the mattress again, overstimulating himself.

“Ngh, fuck… p-princess…” his hands travel to your thighs, clinging to them like a lifeline.

You’re unsure of what to do, because you know what to say, holding back for a second.

“Beauty,” Minho kisses your neck. “What��s that brain of you thinking, mmh?”

Your blush covers your whole face, and you smile, as if you’ve been caught on a white lie.

“I… want to, um. Want you to do to him what you did to me.”

Jisung freezes in his place. Minho’s eyes darken. “Keep talking, beauty. Spare no detail.”

Your shyness fades as you look at Ji’s face, reeling at how he moans softly, his body just a tiny bit spent, yet he’s paying close attention to you and your words, not wanting to stop even for a second. The intensity of his stare makes heat hit you, unexpected yet welcomed. 

And with hooded eyes and weak legs, you turn to face both Minho and Jisung, letting go of what you’re thinking without giving yourself the chance to second guess it. 

“I want you to finger him. While you fuck me. And then I want him to fuck me.” 

Perplexed. There are little to no words Minho can manage to say, if any. He knows that he’s a sentence away from losing himself completely to the sensation, your mind and body now completely under the control of the aphrodisiac that is their company and undivided attention, and the intense pleasure it induces. 

“Hyung.” Han’s eyes are teary, and he looks so pretty. 

Why would Minho resist?

He takes you by your wrists and pulls you towards him, kissing you in a way that makes your mind and body completely submissive and compliant. There it is. Minho is finally kissing you, claiming you with each stroke of his tongue. And now he holds no restraint, his hands exploring your body, his touch becoming more urgent and passionate with each moan that goes past your swollen, kissable lips. 

His body presses even harder against yours, pinning you against the mattress as he kisses you deeply, his lips and tongue tracing a path down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Minho bites down gently on the sensitive skin of your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he continues his assault on your senses, his desire for you growing more and more intense.

He moans softly into the kiss, his hands wandering along your body, his touch hungry, as if he couldn't get enough of you —and he can’t, he’s well aware that you might be his last meal, and he’d be happy about it— grabbing and marking and touching all he can reach. He breaks the kiss briefly, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive skin as he pants heavily, his voice low and hoarse with desire.

"You're driving me crazy, beauty," he murmurs, his voice gravelly with lust. "Can't get enough."

“Minho, please,” you whine and beg, shivering when he stands on his knees, looking at you from above, a dark, nasty shimmer in his eyes. 

He pushes Jisung next to you, face down ass up, which only makes the latter moan, desperate to be touched again. 

“You know what, beauty?” Minho grins, mad, crazy, horny, and all of the above, as he takes back the Dior lace and softly moves your hands over your head, making a pretty bow on your wrists, almost as pretty as his needy princess. He’s thankful Jisung wanted to buy that perfume. 

“I’m going to fuck you. Because you want to, don’t you, beauty?” His snicker brings heat to your whole body, and it hits you where you’re restrained, Minho’s hands pinching and teasing all over your torso, watching you crumble and whimper underneath him. “And I’m going to make him come too. You two want to be used like little toys, and it’s just what I’m about to do.” 

He bends down to reach for the lube in the bedside table, but uses that opportunity to meanily bite your cheek. It feels warm under his tongue, the skin red, not only from the teasing bite but from how deep you’re blushing. 

Minho keeps talking while he slowly removes your ruined panties and Jisung’s soiled underwear. 

“I’ll fuck you so good, beauty. So good you won’t ever feel the same, if you fuck that scum you call a boyfriend. I’ll make you come so hard you won’t even remember his name.” 

You don’t know what happens first, but surely, Jisung and you start whining and moaning, panting as Minho fails to keep a steady pace on both of you, his thrusts irregular as pleasure takes hold of him. 

He’s reeling in pleasure, whispering into your ear in between moans and grunts how good you feel, how tight your pretty little pussy clenches around him, how you’re going to milk him dry as he keeps pouncing on you. “If y-you, ever, ever, ever doubt who you belong to…” he moans, watching you cry in pleasure, listening to Hannie’s slurred babbling, failing to get a good grip on the bed sheets. “Remember… that you can always come back… princess…”

After all, his duty as a thief wasn’t only stealing. He wasn’t going to complain when he’d kill for you to sit on his face. Just for starters. 

It doesn’t take long for Jisung to come on his own palm, shivering in pleasure, panting, but smiling at you, and —with his other hand— grabbing yours while you moan and whine and whimper, so close once again. 

T-too much— Don’t stop. Yes, yes, please!

Moaning so beautifully, Minho crumbles. His words are slurred as he whines, something about filling you up that makes you see stars as he somehow thrusts even deeper.

“There, there, ah… f-fuck, I can’t…” 

Dazed, fucked-out, drunk and lost in pleasure, you’re only able to let out louder sounds, tugging at your restraint as the Dior bow keeps you grounded, and Jisung’s now clean hand —you missed when that happened, yet you’re not bothered enough to question it— presses figure eights on your clit. And not even a minute later, you’re both gasping and moaning, and you throw your head back as he comes inside of you. 

It takes a moment for the three of you to move. For a minute, the world stops spinning, and you relish the warmth of his bodies, next and over you, your head still fuzzy with pleasure. 

You and Minho whine when he pulls out, and you shiver at the loss of heat over you and the emptiness inside you. Jisung is quick to fix the first one, softly moving your head over to his shoulder, and he leans his chin over yours. 

“Hey, princess.” He still has a red hue on his cheeks, but you’re pretty sure you’re matching, if not worse. 

You hum, weak, and he can’t help but giggle. His soft hands cradle your face, and he sighs, stroking your nose with his tenderly. 

“I’m really happy you joined us tonight.” 

And with the strength you have left, you merely move to kiss his palm, your eyes closed. They remain closed when Minho comes back, even when he softly moves your arms and links them behind his nape. 

Han heads into the bathroom first, making sure the water of the bathtub is warm enough before sliding inside, helping Minho put you down, leaning your head against Ji’s shoulder and in between his legs. 

You’re half asleep, but you smile when Minho’s hands stroke your legs. Your legs feel sore and you’re a blink away from the best sleep of your life, but first, the best night of your life makes sure to take care of you after all the fun. 

Two pairs of hands clean up the mess they turned you to, and you’re so happy to be taken care of as sweetly and as gently as they are doing, that you weakly peck Minho and Jisung’s lips. 

No words are needed, and Jisung hugs you from behind, pressing soft kisses on your shoulder blades. Minho links his hand with yours, fondly staring at the two of you before him. 

Thieves like Han and Minho are masters in their craft. With professional care, they dry your body, tender touches fully lulling you to sleep when Jisung grabs one of the discarded white-collared shirts and gingerly closes its buttons. Bathed, spent, and tired, they settle you in between them, with your back to Minho, and Jisung kisses his boyfriend’s hand, covering all of you with the bed’s blanket. 

Sure, maybe you didn’t do all that you wanted that night. But you don’t mind it. Warm, clean, and thoroughly satisfied, you’re fine with the need that hits you even after you wake up. You want to be theirs so much, and despite the estrangement, it’s a fact that doesn’t change —not even after it dawns on you that neither you nor them introduced themselves, and you don’t know their names.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

kats, who needs a high —infinite, even— dose of grass, stat.

catiuskaa, august 2024 ©

[gguk-n]

Chapter 1- Anonymous Conversations

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N formed an unexpected bond with a boy behind the screen. He doesn't have many interest it seems, except for reading her stupid poems.

{Reader's POV}

12/07/2012

Dear Diary, Stella is leaving for Canada tomorrow forever. Today was the last day of school before the summer break so I went to Stella's house after school. It's so shitty, how can she leave me like this and before the start of high school. I don't have any friends other than her, what am I supposed to do??? This isn't fair, first Faye moved back to her home country a couple years back and now Stella. It's like they don't even care about me. I made a google plus account so we can stay in touch. Actually everyone's on google plus, I'm just late to the party. I'm sure we'll still be close.

02/01/2013

OMG!! I think I'm in love. There's this new boy band, One Direction. Ava told me about them last year but I brushed her off saying they weren't my cup of tea, but OMG!!! They are fucking perfect and I love Niall so much. He's so cute and has the dreamiest eyes and his accent, I'm gonna faint. I bought the Take Me Home album yesterday!! I even put up their poster above my bed, hehe!! Sooooo, I may or may not be writing now. I think I'm gonna be an author. The stuff isn't great like Shakespeare but I'm sure I'll improve. I've written a couple poems and Aria read them and she thinks they are great. I'm gonna start uploading them on google plus. I made a separate page for it, under a pseudonym. If I really improve, maybe I can publish my work.

I was sat at my laptop, typing the latest story I came up with during lunch so I could upload it. There were a lot of people who were reading my work and even encouraged me. There is improvement, but then again, we can do better, I'm sure. My parents aren't very happy with how I'm wasting my time writing instead of focusing on my education since I'm in high school now. I finished typing the story and clicked the upload button, I got a comment on the post. It was from this guy, named Max, just Max. He always read all of my work and writes the nicest comments under them. I haven't spoken to him personally ever since my mother kept warning me about stranger danger and that it could be some 50 year old dude. But his comments are encouraging and make me want to write more. I hope he knows the kind of effect he's having on me.

My birthday is in a couple of days, I don't know what I'll do since I don't really have a lot of friends. Even Aria is away during that time, so I don't really have anyone to go out with. My parents are busy as always.

So, out of desperation or sadness, I don't know which one, I posted on google plus saying that it was my birthday. The first person who replied was Max as always. I really wanna know when this guy sleeps or how he gets any work done if he is online so much. He messaged me personally too, to wish me again and even asked what I did. I couldn't lie because my heart was heavy, so I told him. I literally just unloaded about not having any friends and spending the day alone because work was more important for my parents. He was so nice about it. He spent the next hour talking to me and cheering me up. He's apparently 15, from Netherlands. He loves cats and lives with his dad and sister. He sounds like a fun guy.

After that, both of us ended up chatting on google plus regularly. I would message him immediately after school and spend the next couple of hours talking to him. Some times, he'd be gone a couple weekends but it was no biggy. I'm sure he had other commitments instead of entertaining a dumb teenager.

Max's birthday is on 30 September. I wanted to be the first one, so I stayed up late to match the dutch timings and wished him. He replied a little while later. He wasn't very excited about it. I get it, maybe his friends aren't there or couldn't make it to his birthday. I was gonna cheer him like he cheered me up. I wish I could send him a present. He really was a light in dark time. When I had no friends in school I could rely on, he came like the knight in shining armour. I just want to be a good and reliable friend to him like he is to me. He is such a sweetheart. We've never spoken on call yet. I guess I'm still a little scared and we've only known each other for a few months. I'm gonna hold on that but Max is a genuinely nice person in my eyes. But his dad doesn't sound like the nicest person from what he says, but I can't tell him that his dad is shitty so I just read his texts.

18/12/2013

Dear Diary, Maxie is the cutest. I haven't seen or heard him yet but I feel like he is. Otherwise, why would he encourage me to follow my dreams? He was so understanding and gave great advice. You might wonder why I needed the advice, diary. I told my parents I wanna pursue a degree in literature and we had a huge fight since apparently I'm throwing my life away and I should try to get a proper degree that might get me a job. Apparently, I'm not thinking straight. I've been thinking about becoming an author for some time now, it's my one passion, I've realised. And if it means struggling, I would rather struggle and be happy than be in a dead end job. Just because they are some big shot business people doesn't mean I wanna do that do. ugh!!! I hate them. Maxie calmed me down honestly, he heard me out and told me it was okay to follow my dreams. I think he is such a good friend. I won't tell him that, he has a big ego as is. LOL!!

I've been gaining a lot of traction on my posts on google plus. I have a couple thousand followers but Max is the most active of them all. Max is so effortlessly funny. He did ask one time if we could talk on call, I told him that my microphone was broken. I'm still a little skeptical. I know, even though I'm literally sharing everything with him, I've never spoken on call or video with him. Maybe some day.

04/03/2014

Dear Diary, I got a new phone and a new number. The previous one was one of my parents multiple numbers but this one is my own. I feel like an adult, hehe!! I made a whatsapp, maybe I'll share my number with Maxie and we might start chatting on there. Google plus had become a bit of hassle and I'm not uploading on it like I used to. I usually only open it to talk to Max. I think it would be better to shift it to another service. He's been a little busy this year compared to the last, didn't tell me much but I think it has to do with him being in his final year of high school. Can't relate, but I hope I'm done with high school soon. It fucking sucks. But on the bright side, I've gotten close to Nia and Aria and I could call Aria my best friend but she considers Nia her best friend. I don't mind being her friend. I have Max anyways.

Max has been quite busy lately, but I don't blame him. I would be busy in my final year of high school too. Even with all that, he has taken time out to talk to me. I did share my number with him, so now instead of google plus, which is a barren wasteland, we text on whatsapp. I've suggested talking on call some time when he's free, which hasn't happened yet.

We had set up a time to talk, it was really early here but I didn't mind, I was up anyways. I couldn't wait to hear his voice. I was anxious as well, what if he's some pedophile; all these thoughts raced through my head when my phone rang. Max- Hi, Y/N! Y/N- Hey, Max!! How are you? Max- I'm good, what about you? Y/N- Yeah, I'm good too. haha!! This is so weird talking to you. Max- yeah, you sound pretty. Fuck was he flirting, is this flirting? A million thoughts ran through my head, no one's ever flirted with me before. I felt my cheeks heat up. Y/N- You sound nice too. I mean....you have a nice voice. Max- haha, thanks, this is the first time some one has said that. Y/N- soooo, what have you been up too?? You've been so busy lately. There was a pause on the other end. I heard shuffling. Max- yeah, I've been busy with stuff. I'll be done soon for a while now. Y/N- That's great I need my best friend back! The conversation flowed smoothly. It didn't feel like we were talking on call for the first time. I had a lot of fun talking to Max. He sounds like a teenager, much to my relief. He's just as funny on call as he is on text.

After that, we ended up calling each other regularly. Max would answer my calls whenever but sometimes I felt bad about calling him at the crack ass of dawn in Netherland so I would avoid calling him whenever. He is so kind and listens well but damn does he talk. Every one who knows me calls me talkative, if they heard Max their ears would bleed. But I like hearing him talk, he has the most random and vast knowledge, he's helped me write too many of my papers because I didn't have to research, I could just ask him; he's like a walking encyclopedia.

17/05/2015

Dear Diary, I think I'm in love. It's not some celebrity this time but I think it's Max. I don't even know that dude's last name but I'm in love. He not like the guys in school, he's so mature and funny and sweet and understanding and he supports me so much. I didn't know when or how but I think I love him. Obviously I won't tell him. It's prolly a crush since I have't dated anyone ever. I'll get over it, can't ruin my friendship over this. As is, he has gotten so busy. I think he is going to college. He didn't say it explicitly but why else would he be so busy right now if not applying for colleges. I don't know the dutch education system but I'm sure he busy pursuing higher education. He said he liked cars, I think he'll do something with cars. I didn't really ask in more details. I'm sure he'll tell me when he wants to. We have a chill friendship, we share when and what we want to. Alas, I hope this crush doesn't ruin my friendship.

09/08/2015

This is bad, my crush on Max has only gone on to increase. He's so kind to me, what am I supposed to do? Also he's the only one who can calm me down after a fight with my parents regarding my future. Sadly, he gotten so busy. He's gone for a while every few weeks. But lately he's been free. We've been talking a lot. He sounds a lot more rested lately too. I'm sure college is tough. But he's strong and I know he'll do it.

[Little did Y/N know, Max was busy racing across the world in Redbull's junior team. He was in his first year as a formula one driver, hence he was so busy. Max had no intentions of telling her, he liked being just Max, a guy from Netherlands who could talk to her. He enjoyed the disconnect he got with her]

[yuff7e]

Hi angel I love your layout!! Your blog is so cutesy :D Can I rq Sanemi bf headcanons? :-)

⋆.ೃ sanemi bf headcanons !! ࿔*:･ sfw / fluff / headcanons

gender neutral

hi anon !! i love sanemi, he’s the cutest !! and thank you, also the angel nickname has me twirling with cuteness :3 ur the angel for requesting !! enjoy <3

the cuties song -> www.spotify.com

- pure definition of “i hate everyone but you”

- like actually

- buddy doesn’t like no one besides his brother and you atp

- he’s over here cuddling you when no one’s looking and then slashing demons heads off w 0 remorse the next second

- honestly a pretty good sweet talker i would think

- he knows what to say to you to sweep you off your feet, he just doesn’t do it often

- in the right setting he will, but then he gets a little flustered with the affection you give him afterwards

- he likes taking the lead in anything, no matter what it is

- if you want to eat something new he’ll take a bite first “just in case”

- has extreme trust issues, so when you came around it took him a while to actually warm up to you

- so it took him an even longer time actually beginning to like you

- and then it took him LONGER to start dating you

- but he’s def worth the wait, you have a personal bodyguard for LIFE.

- i would think he’s extremely loyal, since he already doesn’t trust anyone and seeing how he’s trusted you enough to start dating you - id think he thinks you’re the one type-thing

- like, he picked you and wants a future with you

- you’re not just some partner that he’s dating “just cause”

- like no he saw visions of yalls future kids FLASH BEFORE HIS EYES BRO.

- he saw visions.

- jk lol

- maybe.

- he’s crazy so maybe yeah, he did see visions…..

- he’s not the biggest fan of physical touch, but really likes acts of service and words of affirmation

- if you go and do something for him he’s on his knees for you (promise not in a weird way, unless you want it to be lol)

- or if you praise him he gets a little flustered and turns his head away from you to hide the faint blush on his cheeks

- “hey, stop that.”

- “sorry!! you’re just so cool baby, i could talk about you forever.”

- “[name]!!”

- honestly, i definitely see him being pretty overprotective

- especially with what you wear and what you do

- not in a abusive way, but hey, we’re talking about feral sanemi here

- like, if you’re a female and one of the hashiras and they give you an outfit like mitsuris - he’s immediately turning that down

- unless you didn’t date until after and you were wearing that, he’d make you change

- “you don’t need the other boys over here staring at you, just me.”

- or if you were a guy and saw you helping another girl he’d be giving HEAAVYYY side eye

- like hello sir it’s fine

- or if you had a reputation to be flirtatious with the girls/guys there before you two had started dating, and still decided to date you after that you have another thing coming

- the night he confessed to you he was like “and if i see you talking with any girls/guys, it won’t end well.”

- bros like misa where she’s like “if i see you with another girl, ill kill her.”

- like OKAAYY buddy calm down it’s never that serious

- he feigns over you too, like crazy

- again, not in a weird way (unless you want it to be)

- i mean yeah it can be weird you’re adults, but like he always wants to be by you and if he’s away from you for a hot minute he’s (mysteriously) rushing back to wherever you’re at

- he needs his aura to 1000+ or he won’t be happy

- he’s lovable, and he loves you

i’m so tired, i’ve written 5 fics today and i’m worn out !! i’ll get to everyone’s tomorrow, goodnight loves <3

REQUESTS : OPEN

[sunsburns]

naked in manhattan

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader / implied art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you’re just hours away from a flight that will change your career forever—one that will take you to london, england, for the 2012 olympics, a milestone you never thought you’d reach. thrilled yet trembling with nerves, you find yourself at the hotel bar, celebrating alone. it does not help when you run into art donaldson and… his wife?

—or: you and tashi rekindle an old flame

word count: 6.9k

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, semi-public sex (a gym at the middle of the night so idk if that counts), mid-challengers movie (a year after the atlanta scene with tashi and patrick), angst with no comfort, fingering, homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, no use of y/n, old situationship best described in terms of “casual” by chappell roan (iykyk), art is lowkey a shit starter

author’s note: so i finished this a while back and added it to my queue and did not realize i put it for july instead of june so LOL MY BAD. this is kinda like a prequel to “good luck, babe!” but you don't need to read that to get this. alsoooo thank you for all the love and feedback in “good luck, babe!” i’ve read every single message and tried to reply to all of them! you guys are so sweet and inspired me to write more! thank you thank you <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

Manhattan, New York City, 2012

"I hope you're planning on getting laid tonight."

Your drink is cold, the ice cubes clinking against the glass as you swirl the straw absentmindedly. The dim lighting of the hotel bar casts a warm, golden glow over everything, making the polished wood of the bar counter gleam. Around you, the murmur of conversations, bursts of laughter, and the occasional clinking of glasses create a lively yet intimate ambiance. You glance at the TV mounted in the corner, where a muted sports channel displays highlights from a basketball game.

You try not to snort into your drink at the words of Patrick Zweig on the other end of the call. You push your phone closer to your ear, unable to bite back the grin spreading across your face.

"Are you serious?" you ask.

"What?" Patrick's tone is mockingly innocent, full of playful mischief.

"I thought you called to say something a little more... I don't know, sincere? Heartwarming?"

He lets out a loud, boisterous laugh that you can practically feel through the phone. In the background, you hear the faint sounds of a city—honking cars, distant chatter, and the occasional bark of a dog. The noise fades slightly as Patrick likely moves to a quieter spot, and you can almost picture him getting in his car in some other state—you think he's in Arizona.

"The only kind of warming I wanna hear about is cockwarming," he retorts, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

You make a face, "You're disgusting."

"I mean it," he insists, still laughing. "I'm actually so jealous of you right now. You qualified for the Olympics, for fuck's sake! How's your mom doing? Did she have a heart attack? Did she call you already? I hope she packed you some condoms. There's gonna be such a wide variety. Literally every country in the world."

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick."

Your mother did call, her voice crackling with emotion over the phone just before Patrick rang you. She told you how proud she is of you, how she can't wait to watch you play and tell everyone she knows that her daughter is an Olympic tennis player. A gold medalist, maybe.

Her words echo in your mind, filling you with a warmth that battles the nerves simmering beneath the surface.

You take a sip of your drink, savouring the blend of fruity and bitter flavours, a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts. You try not to spill it on your Ralph Lauren sweater, custom-made, just for the Olympics, with your name stitched on the arm.

Around you, the hotel bar is alive with the buzz of other athletes celebrating with their teams. The fellowship is appreciable as laughter and cheers fill the air. But for some single athletes, like yourself, it's a different story. You feel as if you're in high school all over again, too awkward to make friends, hoping someone braver than you will come by and say hello first.

"You better not be sitting at the bar alone, drinking that orange juice you like."

"A sangria isn't just juice, you dick," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"You're such a loser."

You do feel a little bit like a loser, sitting alone at the bar, but you know you shouldn't. You're hours away from your flight to London where you'll have the chance to play tennis in the Olympics. This is all you've ever wanted since you were a child, all you've been working for—sweat, blood, and tears. You can't even remember a time when you've dreamt of something other than this.

Tennis has always been your escape, your sanctuary. You remember those early days when you played with second-hand rackets and makeshift nets, the local court becoming your second home.

And then there was Patrick, your closest… friend(?) and fiercest rival. His encouragement, his competition, and his company kept you grounded and motivated. When the going got tough, the dream felt too distant, and all of it made you feel far too guilty as if you had stolen someone else's life, Patrick was there to reassure you that you deserved it just as much as the next. Without him, you likely would have walked away from the sport you love.

"I can't believe you made it to the Olympics before me," Patrick's voice pulls you back to the present, a mix of envy and pride lacing his words. You can almost see the playful smirk on his face, a familiar expression that often surfaced during your countless matches together.

"I wish you were here, Pat." Your voice softens, the longing evident. It was hard to track down Patrick Zweig, especially while he was constantly on the move, hopping from state to state, playing as many challengers as he could sign up for, each match a stepping stone toward his dream of winning the US Open. And you think he will. You've played against him enough times to know he's better than you at hitting a ball with a racket.

There were nights when you'd both crash in a shabby motel or back at your place after a gruelling day on the court, strategizing and critiquing each other's play styles (sometimes in more than just tennis). His tenacity was a beacon for you, pushing you to strive harder and to reach further.

His voice softens, becoming more earnest. "Yeah, me too. I'll try to get tickets for one of your games in London. If not, I'll catch up with your mom and watch it with her. Is your dad still in the picture?"

You roll your eyes, a reflex to his familiar teasing. "Oh, my god."

"I'm just asking," he chuckles. "Listen, I'm gonna let you go, 'cause I've got a date tonight. But call me when you land."

"Oh, yeah, okay." You try not to let the disappointment seep into your voice, but it's hard. It's not like you and Patrick were together, at least not publicly, at least not in the sense that you couldn't see other people. But even as you tell yourself that, a knot tightens in your chest.

It feels a bit teenageish, you think, messing around with friends and acting like it means nothing just to avoid making things awkward. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were leaving something unsaid, something unacknowledged. Patrick was one of the few people in your life who kept you on your toes and made you feel good—truly good.

Now, the idea of him with someone else, going on dates while you chase your dreams, feels like a betrayal you can't quite articulate. But what right do you have to feel that way? You never made things official, never dared to cross that line.

You never bothered to search for love outside of tennis.

"Have fun on your date," you manage to say. It comes out more brittle than you'd hoped. "Talk to you later."

"Bye!" he says, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart. His voice is light and carefree, and why wouldn't it be?

You end the call and set your phone down on the bar with a bit more force than intended, the hollow thud echoing your frustration. The bartender glances your way and you try to flash him an honest smile before ordering another drink. The TV overhead flickers, switching from basketball highlights to a recap of the latest tennis matches. You watch the screen without really seeing it.

The bar is still lively, yet you feel an overwhelming sense of solitude. You can't help but feel like you're stuck in limbo—caught between your dreams and the reality of your personal life.

You take a deep breath and a long sip of the rest of your first drink, the cool liquid doing little to ease the heat of frustration building inside you. You tell yourself you should be happy, grateful even. But right now, all you can think about is Patrick, and how much easier it would be if he were here with you.

But he's not. And maybe he never will be.

Maybe no one will.

Maybe you will die alone, your tennis racket as your only companion.

"This seat taken?" A familiar voice breaks through your thoughts.

You turn, startled, "No-" you start, but then the blur of blonde hair comes to focus and you're stumbling over your words, "Art? What- what are you doing here?"

"Oh," he smiles, a shy faint red blush already growing on his pale skin. He sits beside you, almost hesitantly, "Just stopping by the city. I saw you and thought I'd say hi."

"Hi." You return his smile, albeit a bit warily.

It's been years since you last spoke to Art properly, though your paths have crossed a few times. You've seen him in magazines, TV, and brief passings usually at major tournaments—Wimbledon, the Australian Open, the US Open. Each time, there were shy smiles and waves from across the room, lingering eyes, and awkward conversations where mutual friends tried to reintroduce you as if you hadn't once known each other

Art looks different every time you see him. His hair, now a little shorter than you remember, still maintains that boyish shagginess. There's a darker tan on his skin, evidence of his time spent under the sun. Some days he has a brighter smile, other days, it's a smile that never reaches his eyes.

As he sits there, you can't help but think of how golden his hair used to look whenever he wore his old Stanford hat, the one he used to pull low over his eyes during your college days. The memory makes you aware that you're staring, maybe a little too long. But he's looking at you too, his blue eyes trailing from one end of your face to the other, as if trying to memorize it all, capturing a photograph of who you are now.

A warmth spreads through you under his gaze, and when he finally looks away, you turn too, tapping at your empty glass, pretending to seem interested in the way the ice has started to melt.

But your eyes betray you, slowly trailing back to him. You watch the way he sits, the way he calls over the bartender and orders himself a glass of water. You try not to notice the deep timbre his voice has gained over the years, and how it resonates in the noisy bar. He looks at you, then the empty seat on your other side, and finally scans the room anxiously, as if he's searching for someone or something.

"He's not here," you finally say, breaking the silence that has grown too heavy. "If that's what you're wondering."

He nods, trying to act nonchalant but failing miserably. "What city is he in now?"

"Vegas, I think."

He makes a face and rests his chin on his hand. "There's no challengers in Vegas this month."

"Then he's just visiting. I don't know." The truth is, you don't want to talk about Patrick right now. Especially not with Art. Not after the way they ended things. You watch Art shrug, and the bartender sets your drink in front of you. You take a grateful sip, savouring the blend of flavours. Art holds his glass carefully, and the two of you sit in strained silence for a moment, the noise of the bar fading into the background.

You can't help but ask, "What are you doing here? In Manhattan?"

"I have an interview tomorrow. For the New York Times," Art says, leaning back slightly. He seems a little surprised as if he expected you to sit there without acknowledging him for the whole night. It makes you wonder what he thinks of you. "They're doing a piece on my career, the highs, the lows... the beginning and stuff."

You study his face, trying to gauge his emotions. You know what it's like to be interviewed, to have a team of people making you look your best for photos and another team crafting answers to help you maintain your reputation. It’s exhausting and thrilling all at once. "Congrats, I'm happy for you."

"Thank you. If anything, I should be congratulating you. Olympics? That's huge..." He continues talking, his lips moving, but you’re barely registering the words. For the first time that night, he seems genuinely enthusiastic, a faint spark in his eyes as he talks about you, about London, gesturing with his hand in excitement.

That's when you notice it. The gold around his finger. It glimmers under the warm lights of the bar, catching your eye like a beacon. You can't stop staring at it even after he's done talking.

"Oh, yeah. It's great." The words feel hollow as they leave your mouth. You struggle to find the right response, not wanting to be rude. "You're married?"

His face falls, and he looks down at his hand resting on his lap. "Oh, yeah, yeah. We, uh..." He scratches the back of his head, his eyes darting up to meet yours briefly before looking away. He seems nervous, like he's bracing for your reaction, worried to tell you, as if you weren’t supposed to know at all. "We got married last year. We kept pushing the date for a while because we were... we were busy... and stuff just kept getting in the way."

"We...?"

"Tashi."

"Tashi," you echo, the name tasting foreign and bitter on your tongue. "You're married? You married each other?"

He nods, "Yeah, we've been engaged for a few years now. You haven't heard?"

You feel a lump form in your throat. "No, uh. My coach tries to keep me away from certain news... my mom suggested it. So I don't get uh, distracted."

This is exactly the kind of situation your team has been trying to avoid.

The reality of his words sinks in, and you feel a sharp pang of something—loss, regret, maybe even jealousy. The air around you feels thicker and harder to breathe. Each word he says feels like another brick being laid on your chest, pressing down, making it harder to stay composed.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."

You force a smile, but it's a fragile thing, threatening to shatter at any moment. "That's... that's great, Art. I'm happy for you. Really. How was... how was the wedding?" Your mind races with thoughts of broken promises and missed opportunities. You imagine Tashi in her wedding dress; you know she looked beautiful. The image stabs at you, and you wince.

"It was beautiful. Both our families came in, and we kept it traditional, in a church. It was..." He pauses, watching you before adding, "It was a small ceremony. Private. Just family."

His words twist the knife deeper. Tashi's family used to see you as such. "No, yeah, I get it. Wouldn't want any trouble at the wedding. I'm happy for you. I'm happy for the both of you." You turn to the bartender, desperate to keep your voice steady. "Hey, can I get another drink? Something stronger?"

Patrick was right; your stupid orange juice won't get you through the night.

Art watches you with concern, his brow furrowing. "How many of those have you had?"

You laugh, but it sounds hollow even to your ears. "Not enough."

"Does your coach know you're drinking?"

"Does yours know you're talking to me?"

Art leans back, his posture stiffening. He turns to his drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass as he takes another sip. The silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable. You watch as he processes your words, his expression shifting from defensiveness to something more pained. You instantly feel a pang of guilt, realizing you've struck a nerve.

You've heard all about Tashi's coaching with Art. Whispers in the locker rooms during tournaments, hushed conversations about how she's pushing him until he cracks. You never wanted to believe it, never wanted to think that Tashi, of all people, would be the one to break him down.

"She calls you Ace, you know."

You make a face at the name. A journalist had written an article about you a few years ago when you won your first US Open, nicknaming you Ace since your serves were almost impossible to hit. The nickname stuck, plastered across headlines, magazine covers, and merchandise. People even bet on you becoming the youngest tennis player with the most aces in history before the season ended. You were only off by a dozen.

"Does she?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, unaffected.

"You do have a killer serve."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Killer." The word feels bitter on your tongue. "Tashi used to hit those back at me like it was nothing."

Art nods, taking another sip of his drink before pausing to look at you. "Only 'cause she knows you."

"Knew," you correct him.

The silence stretches again, heavier this time. You're about to say something, anything to break it, when Art speaks again, his voice softer, more earnest.

"I miss you."

What. The. Fuck.

"I do," he insists, leaning forward, his eyes searching yours. "I miss hanging out with you. I miss playing with you. Watching your games live and not recorded on my TV."

"Art, c'mon." You feel the dread crawling up your throat, wishing you had left the bar sooner. Every word he says seems to pull you deeper into a past you've been trying to escape. Art has done nothing but throw you off your game all night.

"I miss you outside of tennis, too," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I miss our late-night walks, studying in the library. You remember those?"

"Of course I do."

"Tashi misses you, too," he says, and you can tell he's crossing a line, testing your patience. You can feel the corner of your mouth twitch, your eyes unable to meet his. "She tells me every night. She's always keeping up with your stats, watching all of your games, rewatching your old ones. She makes notes for you, how you could improve. She wants to coach you."

"Art, stop it," you finally snap, turning to face him. The night feels ruined, any semblance of peace shattered. Was this all some elaborate scheme against you? After all these years, is this how they repay you? Out of spite? Is that what it is, a way to get back at you because you somehow got it all, and Tashi's taking whatever she can scrape off from Art?

"I don't want her to coach me. And I highly doubt she wants to coach me either."

"I booked the hotel," he says suddenly, his voice softer, more sincere. "She doesn't know you're here. And I really think it will be good for you two to talk." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper, placing it carefully on the bar in front of you. "Here's our room number. I'll be out tonight with some friends, so the room is yours till late. Just, don't kill each other or break anything if you fight."

"I'm not going—"

"She really does miss you," he interrupts, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you might understand, might relent.

You stare at the piece of paper, feeling its presence like a burning brand. Art stands up, hesitating for a moment as if he wants to say more but thinks better of it. "I mean it. Think about it," he murmurs before turning and walking away, his footsteps echoing in the hollow space of your mind.

You watch him go, each step he takes pulling at the threads of your carefully constructed facade. As he nears the entrance, your eyes follow him instinctively, and that's when you see her. Tashi. She's standing there, with her bags looking around with a familiar intensity, her eyes scanning the room until they lock onto yours.

You feel sick.

Meeting Art was a pleasant surprise; he makes your heart race and your cheeks burn. But Tashi makes your heart stop and your brain shut off.

She looks different—older, more mature, hair straight and cut to a mid-length but also a lighter colour—but still heartbreakingly familiar. Her eyes widen slightly as she recognizes you.

She opens her mouth as if to say something when Art stands next to her, pressing a kiss to her temple, but no words come out.

Your heart hammers in your chest.

The weight of her gaze is too much. You're the first to look away. You stand up abruptly, nearly knocking over your drink in the process. "Excuse me," you mutter to the bartender, slapping a couple of bucks on the counter. Your voice feels distant, and detached, as if it belongs to someone else.

You push through the crowd, your mind a chaotic whirl of emotions. You need air. You need space.

As you reach the elevator, you can feel Tashi's eyes still on you. But you keep moving, your footsteps quickening with each step. You need to focus on tennis. That's the only thing that's never let you down.

Tashi had once picked tennis over you, and now it was your turn to do the same.

You reach your room and close the door behind you, leaning against it as you finally let out the breath you've been holding. The walls seem to close in on you, and you slide down to the floor.

You need to remember why you're here. For the game. For the dream. And that has to be enough.

Only one problem.

You can't sleep.

Hours later, you find yourself in the hotel gym, the quiet hum of the machines the only sound in the stillness of the night. Your mind is racing, a chaotic swirl of thoughts and emotions you can't control. Desperate for an outlet, you hop on a treadmill and start running, hoping to exhaust yourself into some semblance of peace.

Anything is better than sitting in the hotel lobby, scouring the internet on the public computer for any proof of Art and Tashi's marriage while drinking wine straight from the bottle.

Art was right, it was a small wedding. There were almost no photos of it caught by the paparazzi, only articles upon articles talking about it, magazine covers and everything. God, how could you have missed this? How out of the loop were you?

There was only one photo posted, and it was from Tashi's Facebook and Instagram from less than a year ago; a picture of just her hand holding onto Art's, where you can see her wedding ring. There was no caption. But the photo had millions of likes.

You wonder if Patrick knew. He probably did. He stalks her account religiously and only recently started to tone it down. And then there's you, who had her blocked on everything since your last argument.

The music playing in your ears drowns out the world around you, a heavy beat pulsing as you hum along. Your eyes fixate on the rising numbers on the treadmill screen, sometimes glancing out the window at the city skyline, other times catching your silhouette in the glass reflection.

Sweat makes your clothes cling to you like a second skin, rolling down your spine in rivulets. You're still a little tipsy from your drinks, the taste lingering in your cheeks, but you think you're sober enough that a few more miles will drain it all out.

Art's words are burned into your mind. The wedding you were never invited to, how he suddenly wants to be friends again. You can see where he's coming from; tennis is lonely. You're lonely. You press the button to go faster, your legs burning as you push yourself harder, trying to escape the thoughts that chase you.

You don't hear the door click open, and it takes a few seconds for you to spot the reflection of someone walking behind you in the window's reflection, rolling out a pink yoga mat. But they don't step onto it, they don't move, and even worse, you catch their eye in the reflection.

Fuck.

It's Tashi Duncan.

Your heart lurches in your chest. You quickly look away, panic setting in. You turn your music up higher and make the treadmill run faster, the machine whirring louder in response. Your pulse races, not just from the exertion, but from the presence of the one person you can't bear to face right now.

In the corner of your eye, you see her approach you. When you hear her call out your name between songs, you pretend you can't hear her. You pretend to be captivated by the sight of the city at night, pretend that you're lost in the music as P!nk's voice blares into your ears, cursing out one of her old lovers.

You wonder how long you can keep the act up.

Tashi moves with a determination that you've always admired and feared. She walks around your treadmill, eyes locked onto you with a fierce intensity. Without hesitation, she reaches down and unplugs the machine from the wall, forcing it to power down abruptly.

Not long enough.

"What the fuck?" You huff, yanking out your earbuds. "What's your fucking problem?"

"You're my problem," she says, her voice steady, unyielding as she rolls her eyes.

"I haven't said a word to you."

"And that's my problem. I'm talking to you," Her gaze bores into yours, refusing to be ignored. You can see the resolve in her eyes, the same decisiveness that made her a force to be reckoned with on the court.

"I'm busy," you snap, and your breath comes in ragged gasps, both from the exertion and the emotional storm raging inside you. You feel trapped, cornered by the very person you’ve been trying to avoid.

You bite your tongue, stepping off the treadmill and walking around her when she steps in front of you. You make a straight line for your bag, watching her from the mirrors as she follows you closely.

"Can you listen?" It's more of a demand than an ask, "I just... Art told me what he did. He's a little shit, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. You have other shit to worry about."

You're taking long chugs from your water, staring at her without saying a word. Part of it is because you have nothing to say to her, and another is because you're afraid that if you speak, she'll see through you.

Tashi's eyes roam over you, lingering on your shorts and the way the wires from your earbuds snake from your iPod, under your tank, and peek out from under your sports bra. Her gaze is both appraising and filled with something unresolved between you. When you don't respond, she sighs. "You look great, by the way. On the court. You've changed your approach. You're vicious."

The compliment stings more than it soothes. You still don't say anything, letting the silence stretch between you like a chasm.

"...Or maybe you've always been. I haven't seen you in a long time. So a lot could've changed, I don't know."

You lower your bottle, swallowing the water. It feels cold as it runs down your throat, a stark contrast to the heat of your rising anger. You can't help the way your eyes drop to her hand when you pull your hair down from its ponytail. The sight of the ring on her finger feels like a punch to the gut.

She notices.

"We didn't want you to find out this way."

Your eyes snap up to hers. "And how was I supposed to find out?"

Tashi looks taken aback for a moment, her confident façade faltering. She takes a deep breath, as if bracing herself. "I don't know. Maybe we should've told you. Should've invited you. But I thought... I thought it would be easier for you if you didn't know. I didn't want to hurt you more than I already had."

Your laugh is bitter, devoid of any real amusement. "Easier?

"Look," Tashi begins, her voice tinged with a hint of impatience, "I'm not a fan of the way I ended things. But I think that keeping a grudge for this long is embarrassing. We were teenagers."

"You're right," you concede with a bitter chuckle, "it is embarrassing. But you know what's even more embarrassing?" Your voice rises, fueled by a mixture of frustration and hurt. "Having your husband come to me and tell me how much he misses me. And how you miss me. But you don't have the guts to tell me that yourself, do you? Do you miss me, Tashi?"

"Of course I miss you," she scoffs, her tone defensive. "You were my best friend. My serving partner. We played and won doubles together."

"Is that all I was to you?"

"Was there supposed to be anything more?"

There it is, the moment you've been dreading, the confrontation you've been avoiding. You can feel the familiar ache in your chest, "You know I fucking loved you, Tashi," you admit. "And yeah, whatever, everyone loved you. No one could get enough of Tashi Duncan. But you know damn well I loved you for more than just that."

"Loved?" She steps closer, her eyes searching yours. "You don't love me anymore?"

"No," you tell her. "I don't. I dropped out of your groupie a while ago."

"What do you love, then?" Her voice is almost a whisper, the distance between you closing.

"I love tennis," you confess, your gaze never leaving hers. "I love winning. Turns out I'm great at both. And I love that too. And people love me. That's more than you could ever give me. Or Art."

"Even Patrick?" The mention of his name is a sharp jab; she's trying to get under your skin.

"I don't know, you tell me." You're taunting her. And you love the way she falters for a split second. "You saw him at the Open last year, didn't you?"

The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you. "Listen," she says, her voice dropping lower, "I just came here to tie some loose ends. For Art's sake. He says It'll be good for me."

"Okay," you reply, seizing the opportunity to turn the conversation in your favour. Hook, line and sinker. "Is there anything else you want to get off your chest?"

Hook.

Tashi's eyes narrow slightly, but she takes the bait, her expression shifting to one of determination. "You raise your arm too high when you serve. You're gonna dislocate your shoulder one day."

"I bet you're waiting for the day I do."

"I can make you the best."

"Am I not already?"

Line.

"You're one of the best at most. But not the best. I'd be surprised if you bring back bronze. You're too short-tempered for silver. Let me coach you. I'll make sure you bring back gold."

"I don't need you," you say, the words catching in your throat.

"We both know you do," she whispers, her breath warm against your lips.

And sinker.

In that moment, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. The words hang in the air, a silent challenge. You can feel the heat radiating from her, the closeness almost unbearable.

Without another thought, your lips crash together in a desperate kiss, a release of all the pent-up tension and longing that has simmered between you for far too long.

It's a whirlwind of heat and passion, each touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume everything in its path. Her hands are in your hair, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your body pressed against hers with a fierce urgency.

The kiss deepens a symphony of desire and desperation, all the words you couldn't say pouring into it with a fervour that borders on reckless abandon. You can feel yourself start to become absorbed into the bubble that is Tashi Duncan, it sucks you in, and it scares you, makes you feel as if you're sinking into the bottom of the ocean.

She grips the back of your neck, hard enough that her nails dig into the skin. Tashi waits for your gasp, and when you do, she pushes her tongue into your mouth, past your teeth until it collides with your own.

You're moaning, groaning into her mouth with the way she shoves you until your back hits the mirror behind you. You're arching into her at the way she fucking smiles against your lips at your reaction.

It's pathetic. You're pathetic. Almost in the same way Art is. You know it. She knows it. But in your defence, it's been a while since you've been kissed, it's been a while since someone's touched you this way, with heat and flavour. You're a little dizzy from it, cheeks flaring with embarrassment.

Tashi sucks your tongue into her mouth and you buck your hips against the thigh she's pressed between your legs.

There's a sweetness that lingers when she bites your lip, you wonder if she's wearing lipgloss, maybe chapstick. You hope she can't tell you've been drinking, that talking to Art made you spiral, that you've been bluffing since the moment she walked into the gym. Since the night she packed her things and told you she was leaving Stanford, her scholarship has no use since she can't play anymore.

When her hands run down your neck to your waist, gliding over the sweat on your skin, you can feel the cold touch of her wedding ring. It's frigid, making you shiver when Tashi starts to lick up the column of your throat. You almost feel bad about how wet you've become.

"Tashi..." you huff, her hands found their way to the base of your ass, guiding you to rock faster against her, only making you whine. Her grasp is tight, wanting. She pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your crotch closer to hers and then pushing you back down on her leg. She repeats the motion a few times, rolling her own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto her.

Tashi rewards you with a quiet moan—oh, you want her to do that again, you're going to make her do that again, louder and louder—and then, with a touch so light you could cry, she traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

You can feel your stomach nearly drop, "You're married, Tashi."

She pulls away just to laugh at you. One finger traces your slit through your shorts, and you hear yourself moan. She raises her brows, a challenging look in her eyes, "Are you jealous?"

You try to scoff, but the cold glass of the mirror behind you squeaks when you shift. Even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once.

"What would Art say?" You try to say, your hair falling over your face as you try to collect some kind of morality. If you were caught, you can already imagine the headlines and the stories people would write about you. "What would he do if he found us right now?"

"I don't know," Tashi hums, leaning closer. She pretends to think as if the answer isn't obvious, teasing you a little when she gets close enough to kiss you but doesn't. "He'd probably ask to join."

You can't stop the way that thought alone makes you melt. You remember the jokes Patrick used to make back when you were in college, of you and Tashi being his wet dreams. You can almost imagine, how he would moan at everything, want everything, his whiney moans too similar to the ones he makes when he's on the court.

Tashi rubs gently at your pussy a few more times like she's exploring you, and then suddenly she taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and she sighs against your mouth. "You're so wet. You like it when I touch you?"

"Yeah, please... touch me." You nod. And in your head, you're telling yourself you only like it because you haven't been with anyone since Patrick left for his tour.

Tashi kisses you again, and it's a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath her shirt she starts to fumble with your waistband, and you're both angry and resentful and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet.

Her fingers are clumsily slipping into your underwear and then she's there, her fingers are brushing right against your clit—you're so wet that her fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time she reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Tashi leaves you gasping and she teases you for it. "So sensitive," she taunts against your lips, pressing her thumb against your clit so she can see you squirm, pumping her fingers at an urgent pace to hear you moan. "So needy."

With each movement, she scissors her fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and she starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? I am, aren't I? I'm exactly what you need. C'mon say you want me. Tell me you need me, Ace."

"Maybe—" You're breathless, and the nickname has you tugging at her hair again, "Shit, I saw the way you made Art. He... oh god... he wouldn't be half the athlete without you. I also... I also wouldn't want to ruin my shoulder... while—while serving."

"I'm not talking about tennis."

For a moment, you worry that you've fallen for a trap, that you've said too much. You're vulnerable, a little drunk on lust and wine, and Tashi isn't stupid to not catch your sapphic crush on her since the two of you became friends, an old high school love that's never really disappeared, from slumber party kisses and how you've gawked at her, at her husband and even her ex-boyfriend.

"C'mon, Tash, you're always talking about tennis."

"Not this time."

You barely catch onto what she says. Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that she's given up on pumping her fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach—"I think I'm close... oh, I don't—fuck—keep touching me like that."

She bites your neck until you say her name. You pull her hair until she moans. Her touch is blistering against your skin. She says your name in a breathy drawl like she's pleading with you, humouring you, wanting to take everything from you.

"Keep going, please, please don't stop," you all but shout, and Tashi continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of her hand means the heel of her palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into her hand—you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you.

Every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Tashi whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming—

Distantly, you can feel her fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting—and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto her lap—but other than that, all you know is the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once. A hot sting against your skin that reminds you of the sun whenever you're on the tennis court, deep into the game you've turned into the love of your life.

It can't have possibly been this long since the last time you've gotten laid, right?

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Tashi is heaving for breath against your shoulder and her fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. "You're so pretty, you know that? No tennis talk."

You lean your head back against the mirror, a slow grin forming on your lips, "You don't think I'm pretty when I play."

"I think you're hot when you play."

You peek a glance at Tashi, meeting her eyes as she watches you, watching the way you catch your breath, skin shining against the fluorescent lights of the gym, similar to how you shine on the court. Yeah, you're a sight for sore fucking eyes.

Tashi takes slow, taunting steps back and away from you, and then she brings her fingers to her mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes, you can see the most fucked-out look on her face just at the taste of your cum.

She licks her fingers clean—you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight—before opening her eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "I'll be in my room," she rolls up her pink mat (which she never used) and picks up her bag, "I'm sure you know the number. I'm hoping you can return the favour and touch me or something. You know, before you leave in the morning."

tags 🏷️: @begoniaespresso / @sceletaflores / @too-deviant / @wolflover384 / @sevikasblackgf / @supercutszns / @diorrfairy / @24kmar / @apolloscastellan

reblog to support your writers!

© sunsburns.tumblr 2024. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[elliespassagerprincess]

ellie period comfort fic pls? istg i hate this shit but love ur fluff fics KJAKSJHKA:cc

Comfort - (ellie williams x reader)

hi pookieeee!!! firstly thank youuuu, secondly so real. if i could get rid of it forever i would because joh the painnnnnnnn:(((( i hope you enjoy<3333

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts

warnings: none

Summary: in which she helped you

authors note: its midterm break rn and im so bored, all i do is sleep, eat and write. also do yall think i should make playlist with all the songs people send me as requests???

masterlist

Ellie was worried. Really fucking worried.

The two of you were supposed to meet at this new cat café Ellie recently discovered. She remembered showing you pictures that she found on Instagram, and how excited you were.

"Ellie there's ginger cats!" You squealed when you saw the pictures. "Can i hold them?"

"The website says you can"

You let out a scream of excitement and you hopped onto her, straddling her. Her hands immediately went to your hips.

You kissed her all over her face and she fucking giggled.

"Thank you baby!"

Now here she sat all alone with ginger cat on her lap waiting for you.

She sat there for over an hour waiting but you never showed up. She's called you so many times. She's texted you so many times.

I'm here (delivered)

when are you coming? (delivered)

Where are you? (delivered)

Baby are you ok? (delivered)

You're scaring me (delivered)

It wasn't like you to not respond, especially if the two of you had a date planned.

Maybe you were mad at her? Maybe you were ignoring her? Maybe you were in danger?

Fuck, so many possibilities.

She checked your location only to see that you were at your apartment.

What?

She immediately left the café, and she hopped into her car. She was speeding down the highway, praying that she wouldn't get pulled over.

Maybe you fainted, maybe you forgot, maybe you had someone over?

She was terrified.

She pulled into the driveway of the complex and she rushed up the stairs forgetting that the elevator was there. She ran to your door and she unlocked it with the key she had, not even bothering to knock because if you were in trouble then she needed to get there urgently.

She walked into into your apartment and it looked like it always has. It was clean, everything was in its place.

What the fuck?

She slowly walked through the apartment and she checked every room but there was no one. She just has your bedroom left. She slowly opened the door and there was a huge lump on your bed. She walked to the other side of the bed to see you fast sleep covered with a million blankets.

She let out a sigh of relief and she squatted down so she could see your face more clearly.

She gently touched your cheek and your nose scrunched at the sensation.

"Baby" she muttered quietly.

You slowly opened your eyes and she gave you a small smile.

"Hi"

"Are you ok?" Ellie asked with concern "you didn't reply to my texts"

you frown and you reached out to grab your phone from behind you. You switched it on you read all the texts and you eyes widened.

"we had a date?"

"Yeah"

"I'm sorry"

Ellie shook her head "what happened?"

you look away shyly

"baby talk to me"

"my period started and i decided to take a nap"

'that explains your mood swings' Ellie thought

"oh you poor thing" she got up and she kissed your forehead "does it hurt?"

"A little" you admitted.

"Let me help you"

you nodded at her request and Ellie immediately got to work. She went into your bathroom and she filled the tub with water. She back into your room where you quietly sat and waited for her. She came in and she gently grabbed your hand

"come on baby"

You got out of the bed following her. When you got into the bathroom and you saw the water filled tub you gave her a big hug. You took off your clothes and you gave you got in with a relived sigh.

Ellie took your clothes and she out it into the washer. She immediately went into the kitchen and she looked for every sweet treat she could find because she knew how much loved eating sweet this, especially at this time.

She changed your sheets, she got you pain meds and she sat on the edge of the bed waiting for you.

You walked out all clean, and you were immediately looking for Ellie. When you walked into the room, seeing the new sheets the snacks, you were suddenly overwhelmed.

"Oh Ellie" your eyes filled with tears.

"No baby don't cry" she got up and she walked over to you and she hugged you as you silently sobbed. The two of you stood together for a while as you found comfort in her arms.

"Lets lay down" she mumbled.

"Tonight we'll do whatever you want" she said as she cuddled up behind you.

"Can we watch Disney?"

"We can baby"

"can you also get me cheese?"

"Whatever you want baby"

you gave the arm that was wrapped around you a squeeze

"i like cheese"

" i know you do"

"thank you els, i love you"

"i love you too"

<3

[buuniebaby]

sex tape headcons 😉😉

PRETTY ON CAMERA 🎀 HAMZAH X READER

includes: rough sex, sex tapes, choking, fem!reader, ft sex, unprotected sex

wordcount: 2.2k

as much as hamzah hates to admit it, he loves being on camera - and that doesn’t stop at just youtube videos.

despite the promise to himself he made mental note of in high school to never send nudes, it’s become his new addiction. he loves to show off every inch of himself to you, he loves the praise you give in response to seeing his body, and he especially loves knowing that he can make you go feral with a simple video.

on a similar note, he fucking adores seeing you on camera. he likes the way you get shy when being recorded, whether the audience is slushies or it’s a video just for him. he’s obsessed with the pretty lingerie you wear for him and the way your tiny hands caress your body while you think of him. it makes him want to fucking destroy you.

ever since you two have gotten into the habit of filming videos for each other, it’s almost like something’s awoken inside of him. an urge of sorts, to make a fantasy he’s kept bottled up forever real. he wants both of you on camera, together. however, there’s one problem preventing him from asking:

hamzah is a pussy.

but thankfully, you’re just as horny as he is nervous.

the topic doesn’t actually come up until a day where your boyfriend is particularly needy. he’s sleeping over at martin’s tonight - a little too long without you for his liking.

fortunately for him, martin and mandy had forgotten to get a few items for their next video, so he had a bit of alone time. as soon as they’re out the door, his shirt is pulled off and he’s facetiming you.

as your phone buzzes to life, you’re snapped out of your doomscrolling session, wearing just one of hamzah’s large hoodies and a pair of panties. you smirk a bit at the sight of his contact popping up on your screen and sit up.

“hi, baby.” he says, voice deep. “I miss you.”

“i miss you too,” you reply back, in a more light tone. “but ill be with you tomorrow..” you say, smirking. you’ve got the same idea as him.

“are martin and mandy home?” you ask. as much as you want hamzah right now, you really don’t want to deal with the consequences of his best friend overhearing you two.

“nah, they left a little while ago.. forgot to buy some stuff for the video. ..soo, I have you all to myself.” he says, smirking.

“yeah?” you lean into the camera, doe eyes sparkling up at him.

“yeah. y’know, I missed hearing your voice, baby. it’s enough to get me hard.” he mutters, voice deep and breathy. it only makes you want him more.

you can only bring yourself to reply with a simple, “mhmm?” as your hands reach into your panties.

“yeah.. fuck. get that fucking hoodie off too. wanna see all of you.” he mutters back. you can tell he’s touching himself now too.

immediately, the hoodie is on the floor, bare chest exposed to the camera. hamzah takes this as an opportunity to change his position as well, camera giving you a direct view of him laying on his bed, sweatpants pulled down as he grinds his cock into a pillow.

“fuck, miss those tits. you want that? my mouth on them?” he says, breathing heavy.

you moan at this, grinding down into your fingers - they aren’t nearly his size, but it’s the best you can do for right now.

“yes, fuck- keep talking.” is all you can utter out.

“yeah? wish this pillow was your pretty little pussy, you know that? wish you were right here right now-“ he chokes, “fucking rutting in this pillow, just wish it was you, baby.” the visual of his hips thrusting, starting to get desperate paired with his words is destroying you, but the next thing he says is what really does it.

“gonna fill you up when I get back home. gonna pump my come into you, until you can’t take it anymore - fuck.”

fuck.

you see his hips twitch as you bite your fist, seemingly both close to finishing. you can hear a faint “shit- shit.” from the other side of the camera, and with that, you feel yourself finish all over your fingers. just as you’re done, you see hamzah’s thrusts pause as he takes a breath, and you can only guess that he just came as well.

after both collecting your breath, you mutter out a simple, “wish we were together. instead of facetime, we could just like, record it.” he continues to lay down, still recovering, but once he actually processes what you just said he perks up.

“wait.. like, actually? you’d do that?” he asks eagerly, eyes slightly widening.

“I mean.. I wouldn’t ever post it or anything. just like.. something to watch when you’re not here. only if you’re comfortable though.” you casually reply, and suddenly he’s already hard again.

“im very comfortable. incredibly comfortable with that actually.” he says, excitedly, and it makes you giggle.

“get your camera charged for tomorrow then.” you say, a sly smile forming. you’re enjoying the way you have a hold on him. “oh- and make sure you bring a new sd card, not the one you use for filming. i have a feeling we’re gonna make a lot of footage.”

“yes ma’am,” he says, making a salute sign with his hands. even when he’s bricked, he knows exactly how to make you laugh.

hamzah is counting down the minutes until he gets to see you when the next day comes. martin and mandy are even shocked at his eagerness to get out of the house, joking that he hates them now.

after what feels like the longest drive he’s ever taken, hamzah arrives home. he’s speeding through the door, into the living room, only to see you’re nowhere to be found; that is, until he checks his bedroom.

he slowly opens the door to a sight he never wants to forget - you’re sprawled out on his bed, baby pink lingerie barely covering your body, as you fix your hair in your phone camera. the sound of the door creaking open catches your attention, and you look up at him with those big, sparkly deer eyes. you giggle at his mouth, jaw dropped at the sight of you. “missed me?”

“fuck, yes.” is all he can mutter as he crawls onto the bed beside you, pulling the camera out of his backpack and then carelessly tossing the rest of his stuff off the bed. he pulls you into a sloppy kiss, immediately making up for the time he was gone.

you breathlessly manage to pull him off of you. giggling, you whine, “hamzahh, you haven’t even started recording yet.”

“shit- forgot.” he grabs the camera and fumbles with it for a second, then places it on the side of the bed. you see a red light go off as he pulls you into another kiss.

your lips trace his as your tiny hands find their way to the bottom of his sweatshirt, pulling it off to reveal nothing underneath. he begins to undress you as well, big hands carefully tracing the dainty lace as he pulls it off you. he leans down to put his mouth on one of your tits, suckling on it like a newborn baby. one of his hands goes to the neglected breast, and the other to grip your neck. you gasp as his strong, veiny hands wrap around you, taking your breath away.

he pulls away from your chest, leaving you panting. you can see him mess with the strings of his sweatpants until they’re untightened, then pull them down, showing his erection through his boxers.

“hamzah…” is all you can say. he’s the only thing on your mind right now.

“baby..” he mutters back.

his strong hands push you back into the bed, laying you down. you look up at him, confused, watching him get closer to your face. he caresses your cheek for a second, moving your hair out of your eyes.

“so pretty.. my girl.” he mutters, love in every word that comes out of his mouth.

he gently palms himself through his boxers before slowly pulling out his cock. all you can do is stare at his dick, precum glistening from the tip. he drags it across your lips, and by instinct, you open your mouth. you lap at it, gently, but hamzah has a different idea.

“open.” is all hamzah says before suddenly, his whole cock is down your throat. you make a shocked sound, but then settle to the feeling of the shaft’s intrusion. he starts slow, but begins to thrust in and out of your mouth rapidly, giving you small breaks when he pulls out for air.

“so fucking hot.. feels so wet around me..” he groans, using your face as his own personal pocket pussy for the camera. the sounds of your gagging only turns him on more, hips stuttering as he thrusts.

“mhmm, mhn, mmgh- fuck! fucking- perfect little throat, all mine, my perfect girl-“ he says as you feel a twitch from inside your mouth. his hips stutter as he cums down your throat, with a “god- all mine. fuckkk.”

as he slowly slides his cock out of your mouth, his fluids coat the outside of your lips. he grabs the camera, showing it your face. you stick your tongue out, showing the lack of cum in your mouth. he pets your cheek again, deep voice muttering a “good girl, swallowing it all for me.” all you can do is give the camera a fucked-out smile.

hamzah repositions you two so you’re sitting in his lap, the camera facing your ass. you kiss him, sloppy, already feeling drunk off of the feeling of his cock fucking your mouth. as the two of you make out, he grips your ass, moving your hips against his lap. he pulls his sweatpants and boxers all the way down, making the connection skin-to-skin.

he lets out shaky breath before he grinds his bare cock against your pussy a few more times. “you’re gonna be the fucking death of me.” is what he mutters before sliding in, exhaling a loud, “fuckkk” with it.

your ass bounces on top of him, making a loud “plap” sound every time you sink down onto his pelvis. his strong hands grasp onto your hips and lift your body up and down as he thrusts into you in unison. his hips speed up as do yours, until you’re panting on top of his cock, desperately making any kind of friction.

“ah- ah- ahh- fuck!” you whimper with each thrust, only making hamzah get more aggressive. he feels your cunt tighten around him, and thrusts as deep as he possibly can while you cum.

hamzah lets out a deep, breathy laugh as you nuzzle into his shoulder. he rubs your back gently, but then whispers a soft, “i still need to cum again, baby.”

you perk up again, preparing yourself for round 2, but hamzah is already manhandling you into place. he maneuvers you into all fours on the bed, then grabs the camera.

he records as he slides the tip of his cock against your pussy, then shoves his cock inside you. you let out a loud gasp at the intrusion. he uses the other hand to pull on your hair, aggressively yanking your head back, making you look him in the eyes.

“want you to beg for it-“ he says, out of breath, “beg for my cum.”

“mhmm.. please.. need it hamzah!” you say, whimpering and whining as your cunt tightens around his cock. he’s animalistic, thrusting into you like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you.

“more.. fuck- more, baby. need to hear you while I cum.” he says.

“please hamzah, I need it, I need your cum inside me so bad. fuck- ruin me- ahhh, breed me!” you whine out, shaking from the way he pounds you. you groan as you feel him cum inside, seed filling you up and making you feel whole.

hamzah turns off the camera and puts it off to the side, still inside you. he doesn’t move, just lays on top of you, pressing soft kisses to your back.

“love you..” he mutters, “so fucking much.”

you softly whine back, face still pressed into the mattress. he slowly pulls out, his cum buried so deep inside of you nothing even leaks out. you try to sit up, but hamzah pushes you back down. “hold on- there’s.. one more thing i want to do.”

you look back at him, confused, and watch him as he grabs the camera and starts recording your ass. he slowly spreads your folds open, and after a second, cum begins to drip out. a quiet “fuck..” is all he can mutter, watching his seed drip out of his baby.

once hamzah is done being mesmerized by the way his cum leaks out of you, he lays back down and immediately wraps his arms around you, gently caressing your body, staring at you with all the love in the world.

“i love you too,” you tiredly murmur.

“huh?”

“you said i love you earlier.. so do i. i love you.”

he smiles at you for a second, then places a soft kiss on your forehead. “love you too, baby.”

thank u for reading!! SEND REQUESTS i fear we r in a hamzah drought.. 😞 but ill try to get them out quick mwah thank u baii

[lvnleah]

Marry Me | Leah Williamson

Leah proposes to you but it’s a little all over the place…

word count: 1k

Leah sat nervously in the changing room, twisting her water bottle cap off and on while her mind drifted away. She’d been thinking about proposing for what felt like forever, but every time she imagined actually doing it, her hands would sweat, her heart would race, and her words would tangle up in her head.

She had no clue how to propose.

You’d been together for three years and before that, you were friends for a while. She couldn’t understand why she was so nervous, all she had to do was pull out a ring and ask three words.

Beth, Lotte, and Kim sat in the corner of the locker room after training, laughing about something, but Leah didn’t hear them as she walked up. She was too busy rehearsing her words in her mind. Beth noticed Leah’s quiet approach and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s with the serious face?” Beth asked, smirking. “You look like you’re about to give us bad news.”

Leah sighed, sitting down next to them and leaning back against the wall. “I need your help. It’s… big.”

Kim’s eyebrows shot up. “Big? As in, ‘I’m moving to Spain’ big? Or ‘I’m going to quit football and open a bakery’ big?”

“No, no,” Leah waved off Kim's playful exaggerations, though the thought of running away from the moment did cross her mind. “It’s just… I’m gonna ask Y/N to marry me.”

The room fell silent for a beat before Lotte’s face lit up with a grin. “Finally!” she said, nudging Beth. “We’ve been waiting for this.”

“Yup, three years, and you’ve taken this long? You’ve gotta step up your game, Le,” Beth teased with a wink.

Leah rubbed the back of her neck. “I know, I know. But now that I’m actually going to do it, I don’t even know how to start. What if I mess it up?”

“You won’t mess it up,” Kim reassured her. “Just speak from the heart, and she’ll say yes. No one’s gonna turn down Leah Williamson.”

Lotte nodded. “And you don’t have to do some crazy over-the-top thing unless that’s what she wants. Keep it simple. You’ve got this.”

Leah smiled softly at her friends, their confidence giving her the push she needed. “Thanks, I just… I want it to be special, you know? She deserves that.”

Beth clapped a hand on her shoulder. “She already thinks the world of you. You’ve got the hard part sorted.”

Leah spent weeks planning the perfect proposal. She wanted it to be meaningful, something that would make your heart race the way hers did every time she looked at you. Tonight, it was finally happening.

The living room was unrecognisable. Twinkling fairy lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, magical glow across the space. Dozens of white roses filled the room, their soft fragrance mixing with the faint scent of candles flickering on the mantle. Leah stood in the centre, nerves buzzing in her chest, waiting for you to come home.

As soon as she heard the key turn in the lock, her heart skipped a beat. She took a deep breath, rehearsing her words for what felt like the hundredth time. You walked in, pausing in the doorway as your eyes widened at the sight before you.

“Leah…” you whispered, your voice laced with wonder. “What is all this?”

Leah stepped toward you, her usual confidence replaced with a nervous energy that made her stomach flutter. She had rehearsed, prepared for this moment, but standing here now, seeing the love and surprise in your eyes, the words felt caught in her throat.

“I, um, I wanted to do something special,” she began softly, her hands fidgeting before she quickly shoved them into her pockets. “You’ve been everything to me these past three years. More than I could ever put into words, really. And I wanted tonight to be something you’d remember forever.”

You took a step closer, your heart pounding as you glanced around the room, then back at her. “Leah… this is beautiful.”

Leah swallowed, feeling her pulse quicken. “You’re beautiful. And you make every day better just by being in it.” She pulled out a small velvet box from her pocket, her hands trembling ever so slightly. “I’ve been wanting to ask you this for so long, but I kept waiting for the right moment. Then I realised… any moment with you is the right one.”

She took a step forward, her voice growing steadier as she gazed into your eyes. “Take my hand.”

You blinked, not fully understanding as your heart raced in your chest. “Why?”

Leah’s lips curled into a soft, nervous smile as she lowered herself onto one knee. “Because I’m trying to ask you to marry me, so take my damn hand!”

Your breath hitched, the weight of her words sinking in as you covered your mouth in shock. Leah held out her hand, and you reached for it, tears welling in your eyes.

“Is this really happening?” you whispered, a smile breaking through your disbelief.

Leah nodded, her gaze never leaving yours. “It’s happening. You’re the love of my life, and I can’t imagine spending a single day without you. Will you marry me? Be my wife?”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. It was just the two of you, in this perfect moment, surrounded by flowers, lights, and the warmth of each other’s love. You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks as you dropped to your knees in front of her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice catching as you held her close. “A thousand times yes.”

Leah laughed softly, her tears slipping down her face as she pulled back just enough to slip the ring onto your finger. The diamond sparkled in the candlelight, but it was nothing compared to the way your eyes shone with happiness.

“You didn’t mess it up,” you whispered, laughing through your tears. “You always joked you would.”

Leah smiled, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I was terrified I would.”

“Well, you didn’t,” you whispered, your lips brushing against hers in a soft, tender kiss. “This was perfect. You’re perfect.”

[astralis-ortus]

beyond forever and eternity

✱ husband!bc x fem!reader

— love cannot survive on luck alone.

w.count → 0.8k genre → fluff warning → chan referred to as chris, quite the amount of kisses, mild cussing, and the usual very ew-you're-so-in-love behavior. also, reader is addressed as wifey twice! a.n → based on this request! but friends, i think you need to stop me from all this domestic chan thing because i!! am!! dying!! from!! all!! the!! cuteness!!ㅠ /j ⋆ see masterlist

the past year had felt like the best time of your life.

sure, the first 6 months were filled with one heck of an emotional rollercoaster—a bunch of final wedding preparations, taking care of all the confusing legal papers, making sure your new home with chris was up to both your expectations, and actually having the wedding within the span of 180 days made you wonder if everything was real.

the latter part of the year is when your new reality starts to sink in. some days, it happened when you woke up next to a softly snoring chris—curls as messy as a bird’s nest, yet you couldn’t help but tread your fingers through those dark locks. some others, it happened when you watch his back while he showed off his newly acquired cooking skill, giggling away while chris convinces you—though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself—that eveything’s going exactly to plan.

other days, however, it happens simply when you caught a glance of the stack of beautiful silver bands on your ring finger, gleaming softly under the light of your cozy living room. you’d then look at your husband sitting next to you, faint crease decorating his forehead as his gaze focuses on a project he’d been working on for the past hour or so. you’d gently bring your finger to tap on those crease, immediately erasing its existence as chris shifted his focus towards you, gaze softening along the appearance of his dimpled smile.

being married to chris had felt like coming home—like he has always been everything you’ve been looking for and more.

“has it started?”

chris’ soft voice along with the warmth of his arm snaking around your waist swiftly snapped you out of your trance, gaze returning to your husband’s smile. you silently shook your head, instead wrapping your arms around his waist and gave into his warmth while allowing a content sigh to slip past your lips. “wasn’t paying attention, honestly,” you admitted, to which he immediately returned with chuckle.

“you’re sleepy?” he gently planted his lips on your forehead while running his palm on your side. “wanna call it a night?”

“no!” you whined, lips pursing in protest. “i’m not sleepy. besides, it’s only like 2 minutes till new year, and i want to spend the first seconds awake with my husband,” you playfully emphasized—and there it was. the rosy bloom across his face quietly surfaces despite chris’ attempt to play it cool, and it never fails to amuse you.

guess it won’t be hard for you to bet that you’ll never be the only one in love in this relationship.

“gosh, wifey,” looking at you with a scrunched nose, chris finally let the adoration bubbling in his chest win when he playfully ruffles your hair—which, of course, earns a string of protests from you, “do you really love me that much?”

“think so,” you stuck out your tongue, eyes twinkling as you decide to further tease your now-red-as-a-tomato husband. “i think i love you so so so much to the point i might pass out. i mean, how can i not? you’re charming, you’re adorable, you’re handsome, you’re hot as fuck—how do you expect me not to? i’m just—“

you haven’t been paying attention—but again, how could you? your gaze had been fixated on chris’ beautiful features, taking notes on every minuscule scar and freckles painted across his blooming face; but as the plush of his lips shuts off your rambling ones, warm hands cradling your equally warm cheeks,

you could hear the fireworks within you harmonize with the colorful blasts outside the window of your hotel room.

you know you’re lucky—despite believing in the concept of soulmates, you know there are universes where your path with chris’ remains as distant, separated parallel lines. you know that nurturing your relationship with chris will have its ups and downs. you know what you have now with chris will forever be both unbreakable and fragile,

and you’re determined to turn your every day with chris as special as it could be.

“happy new year, wifey,” he mumbled quietly, lips fixed into a smile as it grazed against yours when he finally pulled away. pads of fingers tucking the stray strands off your face, chris followed the kisses across your face—on your forehead, your closed eyelids, your rosy cheeks, your soft jaw, before he returned his lips home onto yours.

“thank you for staying with me—for promising­ your forever to me, and i’m looking forward to spending my eternity with you,” with a smile apparent on his lips, his gaze were soft as he tenderly peered into your glossy ones.

“i love you—more than words could ever explain.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[fleurrreads]

hello!!

i was wondering if i could request a azriel x reader story where reader has low iron and passes out a lot? maybe how he helps reader or what he does when it happens in public/in front of the inner circle?

have a great day 💞💞

an: hellooo so i got a little sidetracked from low iron and made it a condition that reader has had since they’ve been young. i hope you like it nonetheless ♡ have a lovely day! also soft az has my heart ☹️

☆ hey angel azriel x reader

The waft of coffee filling your nose makes your heart nearly swoon. You see Azriel from the corner of your eye, holding two mugs of coffee, thanking the owner and walking towards you. You could sit here forever you decided. The little coffee shop in Velaris — where everything started.

You remember the day you sat down in this very seat, ordering a refreshment and a small snack. You’d had a frustrating morning at the studio you worked, and needed to take your mind off of it when Azriel walked into the coffee shop.

Your heart nearly stopped as you took in his beauty. So flawless. His wings tucked neatly behind him as he made his way over to the owner, greeting her friendly and placing his order.

Just as you snuck another glance at him, you felt your head go fuzzy, eyes fogging slightly. Of course. Your system had such a great sense of timing. You don’t remember much of what happened next but as soon as you made eye contact with Azriel you were out.

You woke up quite quickly after, only being out of consciousness for a few minutes when you realise your body was warmer than normal, and a hand had rested on your shoulder keeping you upright. You glanced to the side and saw Azriel carefully watching you. He shifted slightly in his seat — completely facing you. “Are you alright? Does this happen often?” There was a little frown in his brows and you couldn’t help but stare at him in awe.

The shadowsinger you’d heard so much about. Murmurs and whispers of the high lord’s spymaster had travelled in the city since you were young. You never knew what he looked like but now it all made sense. The faint blushes on the girls’ faces when they’d speak so fondly of him.

“Oh- Yes I’m quite alright. It happens often.” You tried to brush off the situation, not trying to make too much of a scene. He surely must’ve been a busy man. “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble. Thank you for helping me. I faint quite often because of this condition I’ve had since I was young.” You explained, and saw Azriel’s complete focus while you explained that you were always okay and even the shop owners knew you well and looked out for you when you would stop by.

You think you saw a hint of relief on Azriel’s face. You smiled at him, rubbing your hands together out of nerves. “I’m glad that it’s not something too serious. You had me quite worried there for a minute.” You felt the burn on your cheeks, a bit embarrassed that the infamous shadowsinger had seen you in such a state. That wasn’t what you wanted for a first impression with him.

You sat together in silence before you realised your coffee was now cold and you’d have to get a new one. Azriel asked the owner to get you a new coffee and you sat in each other’s company, just feeling comfortable and peaceful with each other. You realised you hadn’t ever felt at ease with someone like that.

“It was nice meeting you today Azriel. Thank you again for helping me, and making sure I’m okay.” You couldn’t thank him nearly enough. He gave you a genuine smile. One he wasn’t sure he’d given in a while. “It was nice to meet you as well, maybe we’ll run into each other here again.” Azriel took your hand in his, and pressed a light kiss to the top of it. You swear you noticed a faint blush on his cheeks, but pushed it aside. You waved goodbye to him, and made your way over to your studio again.

After that day you’d coincidentally meet him at the café all the time — running into him so often that it was weird not to see him there when you entered the café these days. You swear he was never here this often and you met him more often, you got to know each other and your feelings started becoming apparent. You liked him, a lot.

It’s now been a few months since that very day in the café and you’ve been introduced and welcomed in with open arms into the inner circle. You will admit meeting the High Lord and Lady wasn’t what you thought it would be. They were genuinely nice people. Everyone was. They weren’t as intimidating as everyone made them out to be.

You haven’t really told them about the fainting and the way you initially met Azriel. It didn’t feel necessary to you.

Well, until now. You’re sitting down at the table in Rhysand and Feyre’s townhouse when your feel your head spinning. You don’t even have to say anything as Azriel’s already picked up that something was different in your demeanour. In a matter of seconds he’s over to your side, an arm already outstretched infront of you for when you faint.

You don’t catch the worried expressions of everyone at the table before the world goes dark.

You hear faint murmurs and whispers as you try and get your mind back to your body. Azriel’s arm still protectively wrapped around your body. Safe. You felt absolutely safe with him. Rhys gives you a glance you can’t quite decipher with Feyre looking at you with slight worry in her eye. One you’ve seen many times before when she would worry about her family. Mor and Cassian seem like they’re holding their breath waiting for you to explain what just happened.

You sigh, grabbing a glass of water with shakey hands. “What just happened. Are you okay? Should we call Madja?” The questions are coming from everyone all at once and Azriel puts a reassuring hand on your thigh, rubbing smooth circles. You clear your throat, “It hasn’t happened in a while. It does happen frequently though. I’ve been having these ‘episodes’ since I was a child. No one could ever tell me what the cause was. Just that it was harmless.” You feel the tension in the room subside and turn into relief. A wave of relief.

“Thank the Cauldron. I thought I’d have to sacrifice Cassian to save you or something. Which I would still do one hundred percent. Even if it wasn’t necessary at all. Maybe then we’ll get some peace and quiet.” Mor says, eyeing Cassian with a smirk, poking at him. He slaps her arm away, “Oh please, like you’d ever get rid of me. You like me way too much.” He then turns to you, “I’m really glad that it’s not something troubling you or affecting you in a bad way.” He smiles gently, then goes straight back to bantering with Mor. “By the way, I’d sacrifice you first.” Mor sends a vulgar hand movement his way as the table erupts in laughter.

Azriel hasn’t let go of your thigh, his hand now resting comfortably. His shadows move from him to you, taking your hair in their little hands — almost as a way to calm you down and reassure you that you’re safe and fine with Az. Rhys looks at Azriel and gives him a look you can’t make out. A smile forms on Rhys’ face as he drinks from his glass.

Feyre takes your hand in hers as she scoots her chair closer to you. “If you ever need anything to make these episodes easier, don’t hesitate to let me know. Whatever you may need.” She taps your hand lightly, a comforting understanding between you. You nod, thanking her silently.

You turn to Azriel as everyone continues on with their dinner, to find him already staring at you. His eyes capturing a deep emotion you don’t quite recognise. You take his hand on your thigh in your own, squeezing it and smiling at him. “Thank you for always looking out for me. You’re the best, seriously Az.” You meant every word. He smiles one of his genuine smiles again. The ones that make your heart burn with desire and some other emotion you’re not sure of.

He looks to Rhys for a second and then back to you, that unknown emotion flashing in his eyes again. “Of course. You- you mean a lot to me. I’ll always look out for you angel.”

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[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 14 - 'This House' | ‘Act II’

word count - 10.6k

You left the Grand Palais as Jude Bellingham’s girlfriend. The cobblestone streets beneath your feet felt both familiar and foreign, every step taking you deeper into a wave of nostalgia that both soothed and stung. The last time you walked these streets, Paris had been your whole world, a place where you grew up, discovered parts of yourself, and found refuge. But now, with Jude beside you, it felt like the city was offering you something new—a chance to rewrite your past with someone you loved.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice tender. He stopped you mid stride. “I love you more than anything in the world, you know that?” You nodded, draping your arms around his neck, pulling him close. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” he continued, his voice a little rough with emotion. “I’ll never make you wait for anything from me ever again. Not for this, not for anything. I swear.” He told you. 

“What about for another kiss?”  You asked as you looked up at him through the tears, a teasing smile playing on your lips. Jude’s expression softened, and then he smiled—slow, confident, the kind of smile that made your heart flip. 

“Never. Absolutely never.” He leaned in, his voice a low murmur against your lips,  And with that, he kissed you again. This time, it wasn’t rushed or filled with the urgency of the past. It was slow, deliberate, full of the promise that no matter what happened, no matter where life took you, this—right here, right now—was forever. You continued walking until you turned onto a street you knew too well. The café up ahead brought a smile to your lips before you even reached it. The warmth of the place radiated out into the street, the scent of fresh croissants mingling with the bitter aroma of coffee. It was almost exactly how you remembered it from when you were a little girl but also from the other month too. As you stopped in front of the café, you could hear faint French chatter coming from inside, the clinking of cups against saucers reminding you of afternoons spent with your mum. You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh, your heart tight with nostalgia. You went in an ordered a coffee but remained mum just basking in the familiar place with the new feeling of Jude’s arms around you. 

"This place..." you started, your voice trailing off as you turned to Jude, who had been quietly observing you, clearly picking up on the emotion in your expression. "I used to come here all the time with my mum. We’d sit inside for hours, just talking, people-watching." Jude gave you a soft smile, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. His warmth against you was grounding. As you walked outside the cozy Parisian café, Jude smiled softly, watching the people pass by as if he belonged in this little corner of your childhood. He had surprised you by suggesting this spot, one that held so many memories for you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had found it by accident or planned it intentionally. 

"Did you?" he asked, playing innocent as though this was all new information to him. You raised an eyebrow, seeing right through his playful attempt. 

"You knew, didn’t you?" you teased, taking a step closer to him and plucking the coffee cup from his hand. He chuckled as you took a sip, your lips still curling into a smile. 

"Maybe I did," he said with a smirk. "But come on, it’s me. Of course I knew." You shook your head, biting your lip as you handed the cup back to him. 

"It’s you… and Whit. Whitney told you, didn’t she?" Jude nodded, his eyes twinkling. Jude laughed, confirming your suspicion. He repeated her name in admission with a nod, clearly amused at how well you knew him. "This is still so good," You took a sip, letting the familiar taste settle on your tongue before glancing up at him. 

"It’s nice, but I still think yours is better." He interjected.  You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“Oh, shut up. Come on, it’s just coffee.” You took a sip, letting the familiar taste settle on your tongue before glancing up at him. 

“No, really,” he insisted, his grin playful. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the way you make it or how you look when you’re making it. But this one,” he raised his cup, “doesn’t compare.” You felt your cheeks warm, flattered by his word even if he was lying.

“You’re just being sweet because you’re my boyfriend now,” you teased, nudging him lightly. Jude chuckled, taking another sip before lowering his cup. 

“Maybe, but I still mean it.” You looked down at your cup, memories of this café flickering through your mind. You bit back a grin fighting your natural response. Jude laughed seeing you struggle, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. You looked up at him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you and the familiar smell of fresh coffee in the air. Jude grinned, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Guess I’m good at this boyfriend thing already, huh?” You nodded, leaning into him with a content smile but still rolling your eyes. The two of you kept walking, his hand still holding yours tightly as you wandered deeper into the heart of your old neighborhood. It was a late afternoon, the city falling into a lull before it approached the evening, the streets were nearly empty, leaving the two of you to take your time. As you neared your childhood street, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. You hadn’t been back here in a while, at least not since everything with Jude had happened, and there was something almost too perfect about being here with him now. It was like your past was coming full circle.

"You okay?" he asked softly, glancing at you with concern. Jude must have noticed your sudden quiet, because he squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. You nodded, but a breathy laugh escaped you, one you couldn’t quite contain. You felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you, emotions that were hard to put into words. Without thinking, you buried your face into Jude’s bicep, the familiar warmth of his body calming your racing thoughts. He responded immediately, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head, as if to remind you he was right there, sharing this moment with you. The sound of his lips against your hair was soft, a quiet assurance, and for a second you closed your eyes, feeling a lump in your throat. Paris was supposed to feel like home, but right now, with Jude by your side, you realized that home wasn’t really a place anymore—it was him.

"You wanna show me," Jude murmured, his voice gentle but curious. "Show me where your house was?" He asked because after all it was him… he knew where you were. He had this all planned. Your heart swelled as you looked up at him, your eyes watery but filled with warmth. You nodded, taking a deep breath before pointing down the street, toward a row of familiar old buildings. 

"It’s just down there," you said, your voice quieter than usual, but steady. As you both approached the street, your steps slowed, each one feeling heavier with memories. You hadn’t expected to feel this emotional, but there was something about being here, in this place that had shaped you, that tugged at your heart in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Jude stayed close, never letting go of your hand, his presence a constant comfort. When you finally reached the building, your old home, you stood still for a moment, just looking at it. The ivy still crawled up the side, the windows still the same soft blue you remembered. But everything else felt different—like you were standing on the threshold of something new.

"This is where you grew up," he said softly, more of a statement than a question. Jude pulled you closer, his arm around your waist as he gazed up at the building with you. 

"Yeah," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "This is where I grew up." You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.  Jude turned to you then, his gaze soft and understanding, as if he could sense the weight of the moment. He lifted your chin gently, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

"You’re incredible, you know that?" he said, his voice filled with so much sincerity it made your heart ache.

"I don’t feel very incredible right now," you admitted, your voice shaky with emotion. You blinked back tears, a quiet laugh escaping you as you leaned into his touch

"You are," he whispered, his hands gently brushing your hair back. "And I’m so lucky I get to be here with you." Jude smiled, pressing his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, letting the moment wash over you. Standing there with him, outside the house where you had once been just a girl dreaming about the world, it felt like you had come so far. And with Jude by your side, it felt strangely different.

“Thank you for all of it,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I love you,” Jude’s smile widened, his eyes softening even more as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. 

"I love you too," he murmured into your hair. "More than anything." For a moment, you stayed there, wrapped in his arms, letting the weight of everything settle. The past, the present, the future—it all seemed to blur together, and in that moment, you knew that no matter where life took you, as long as Jude was with you, you’d always be home. As you stood in front of the tall brownstone building, nestled snugly between its neighbors, a deep sense of nostalgia washed over you. It felt surreal to be back here, in front of the home that had witnessed so many of your childhood memories. The window on the second floor where you used to sit and watch the world go by, the steps leading up to the door that you knew so well—they all tugged at your heart. You wrapped your arms around Jude’s waist, the familiar comfort of him grounding you as the emotions swirled inside. Jude’s arms tightened around you instinctively, sensing the weight of the moment. He didn’t say anything at first, just held you, letting you take it all in. His presence was calming, a solid anchor in the sea of memories and emotions this place held for you.

“Do you want to go in? Maybe… see where I grew up?” After a few quiet moments, you looked up at him, your voice tentative as you asked. You watched Jude’s face closely, searching for any hesitation, but all you saw was the same warmth and understanding he always offered you. “Only if you want me to,” he said gently, his tone soft but full of affection. “If you’re ready to share that part of yourself, I’d love to see it. But I understand either way in or not, I’m okay, angel.” His words sent a warmth spreading through your chest, making you feel safe. You knew he understood how important this place was to you, how much it meant to let him in, not just to the physical space but to a part of yourself you hadn’t shared with many people. That understanding, that patience, made you love him even more. You found yourself swaying a little in his arms, your body moving side to side in a gentle rhythm, like you were a child again. It felt playful, innocent, like you were both stepping into a moment that was pure and untainted by the complexities of the world. Jude smiled, his hands moving to your waist, indulging your movements, matching the slow dance of your body as you swayed.

“I can’t believe I’m back here with you,” you murmured, the words barely above a whisper. “It feels like I’m stepping back into a part of myself I haven’t visited in years.” Jude’s eyes softened, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I can see it in your eyes. You light up when you talk about this place.” He told you. You giggled softly, resting your head against his chest. The familiarity of the brownstone, the memories tied to every corner, every step—it all felt overwhelming, but in a comforting way. The thought of bringing Jude here, of sharing this part of your history with him, made you feel connected to him in a way you hadn’t felt before. This wasn’t just about showing him where you grew up; it was about showing him who you were, who you had been, and who you were becoming with him. With a mischievous grin, you stepped back and began speaking to him in French, the playful tone of your voice ringing through the air.

“Okay, allons-y,” you sang, swaying a little as you said it, your voice light and teasing. Jude’s eyes twinkled as he caught the meaning, a smile breaking across his face.

“Lead the way,” he replied, his voice full of warmth as he gestured toward the door. Before you could move, he pulled you to him, his arms wrapping tightly around you. His lips found yours, pressing softly at first, then with more intensity as he held you close. The kiss was slow and tender, filled with unspoken promises and emotions. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, “I love you. More than anything.” Your heart swelled at his words, the weight of them settling in your chest in the most beautiful way. You had always known Jude cared, but hearing it like this, standing in front of your childhood home, made everything feel more real, more permanent. Taking his hand, you turned toward the door, a new kind of excitement bubbling up inside you. You led him up the familiar steps, each one underfoot just as you remembered. The moment felt heavy with significance—this was the first time you were inviting someone into this space, someone who mattered in a way that no one else ever had. Jude was your first in so many ways, and now he would be a part of this too. As you reached the door, you paused for a moment, looking back at him. His eyes were full of understanding, patient as always. With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside, the familiar smell of the brownstone hitting you immediately. It smelled like home—like memories, like love, like everything you had once been. Jude followed closely behind, his hand still holding yours. His eyes roamed the space, taking in the details, the high ceilings, the old wooden floors, the little touches that made this place unique. You led him through the hallways, pointing out the spots where you used to play, the room where you spent hours reading as a child, the kitchen where your mother would make breakfast every morning. “It’s beautiful,” Jude said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “I can see why you love it here so much.”

“It’s not just the place,” you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. “It’s the memories. It’s the people who made this home. It’s… everything.” You smiled, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. Jude pulled you into him again, his arms wrapping around your waist. 

“Thank you for letting me in then. Now it’s a little part of us,” he whispered against your hair, his lips brushing your temple. “This place, these memories—they’re a part of your story, and now they’re a part of mine too.” He cooed. You closed your eyes, leaning into him fully, feeling a deep sense of contentment wash over you. 

“Please don’t ruin them okay?” You sympathetically smiled at him. You knew in that moment that this was right—that Jude wasn’t just a part of your present, but your future as well. And as you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you felt the weight of the past and the promise of the future all coming together in the most beautiful way.

Jude had arrived in Paris with his usual swagger, but the moment he stepped into your family's home, something shifted. His confident grin softened into awe as he took in the elegant townhouse, full of history and charm. As Jude’s eyes roamed the walls, they landed on a series of framed photos. His smile grew wider, then softened even more. 

“Oh Wait…” He pouted as he stepped closer to one picture in particular, where you, maybe six years old, sat on a swing in a sundress, that same bright smile lighting up your face. “This…this is you?” He turned to you, eyes twinkling with amusement and something deeper, something tender.

“Yep, that’s me,” you said, giggling as you watched him fall into the charm of your childhood photos. 

“Aw angel…You’re adorable. I can’t believe you had the same smile back then—makes sense, though. Always lighting up a room.” Jude shook his head, still grinning. He turned to face you fully, stepping in close and wrapping his arms around you. You fit perfectly against him, your back against his chest. “ Alright so tell me about this place,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “Show me all the good bits.” He smiled. 

“Well…it’s always been home, you know? Running down these hallways, sneaking up to the roof to look out over the city. It’s different now, but I used to feel like I could see the whole world from up there.” You leaned your head back against his shoulder, thinking for a moment.

“A little Parisian troublemaker, huh? I can picture it.” He planted a soft kiss on your neck, making you shiver. Jude rested his chin on your shoulder, his voice low and teasing. 

“Do you want the tour or not, Judey?” You turned in his arms, pushing playfully at his chest.  He smirked, taking your hand as you led him around the house. Room by room, you pointed out little details—places where you and your family used to gather, your favorite hiding spots, the best views. Jude took it all in, making silly comments here and there but mostly watching you, as if he was learning something new about you with each step. You told stories of sneaking late-night snacks and peeking through the curtains to catch glimpses of the city’s magic. 

 “I love it,” he murmured. “I love that you let me inside. And I love…” He paused, smiling against your hair. “I love seeing you like this. In your element.” Jude pressed a kiss to your temple, and for a second, it felt like the whole world stilled

“Well,” you said, your voice light and teasing, “don’t get too used to it. I don’t show just anyone my childhood bedroom.” You blushed, feeling the weight of his words and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. Jude chuckled, his grip on you tightening. 

“Don’t worry, I feel pretty special.” He turned you to face him, his hands resting on your waist as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in the softest, most intimate way. As Jude wandered into your childhood bedroom, he seemed taken aback by the transformation. The room had obviously grown with you, updated from the days of childhood dreams to the reality of who you had become. The walk-in wardrobe now filled with clothes and accessories hinted at the stylish, confident woman he knew, but something else in the room caught his eye. Something that stopped him in his tracks. At the far end, beside the large window that bathed the room in soft, natural light, there was a corner filled with easels, canvases, and sketchbooks. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but now, standing there, Jude was hit with a wave of curiosity. His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, gently touching one of the canvases leaning against the wall. Paintings. Art. Everywhere. He blinked, realizing the depth of it—this wasn’t just a hobby. You had stacks of sketchbooks, binders filled with awards and certificates from galleries, photographs of you at exhibitions with serious, thoughtful expressions on your face. There was even a shelf filled with small trophies, trinkets that you had won over the years. “Angel… you did all of this?” Jude asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he were afraid of disturbing the stillness of the room.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s nothing, really. It was a hobby.” You, standing by the door, shifted uncomfortably.  But Jude shook his head, clearly not accepting that response. He sat down on the carpeted floor, his long legs folding awkwardly beneath him as he reached for one of the sketchbooks. Flipping through the pages, he became immersed in the drawings—some of them quick and raw, others detailed and intricate. He could see the progression of your talent, the way you’d honed your skill over time.

“I feel a bit dumb you know. How did I not know about this?” he asked, his voice full of awe.

“I don’t really talk about it much. It’s personal.” You hesitated, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. Jude kept flipping through the pages, more intrigued than ever. He ran his fingers over some of the drawings, feeling the texture of the paper as if it held some secret about you he hadn’t yet uncovered. The further he went, the more emotional he seemed to get, and soon, he wasn’t just looking at the art. He was looking at the photos of you standing next to your work at shows, certificates of recognition, articles praising your talent. He could see how much this world meant to you, how deeply intertwined it was with who you were. He swallowed hard, feeling a lump forming in his throat. His chest tightened as he realized something that made him pause. Sometimes, he got lost in the idea of you as this sexy, confident woman who turned heads wherever you went. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t love that part of you—the way you made his heart race, the way you commanded attention with just a glance. But here, in this room, surrounded by the art you’d created, he saw the parts of you that were layered with complexity, talent, and emotion. This wasn’t just the woman he was falling for. This was the person behind it all. A talented, interesting, intricate person he desperately wanted to understand more deeply. Jude suddenly felt a tightness in his chest, and to his surprise, his eyes grew damp. He couldn’t quite explain it, couldn’t find the words for why this moment was hitting him so hard. But seeing this side of you—this vulnerable, artistic side that you rarely showed the world—it made him feel something so deep, he couldn’t speak.

“You really are incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I mean it. I say it a lot but I really had no idea…” He looked up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. You bit your lip, feeling exposed but also deeply touched by his reaction. You hadn’t expected him to be so moved. Jude placed the sketchbook aside, standing up and walking over to you. He took your hands in his, his grip firm but tender. “Sometimes, I get so caught up in…in how much I want you. How beautiful you are, how you drive me crazy. But this…you…” He took a breath, trying to steady himself. “You’re so much more than that. You’re this amazing person, and I feel lucky just to know you. To even get a glimpse of this.” You blinked, the weight of his words settling over you. His vulnerability matched yours, and for a moment, you were both standing there, completely open and raw with each other. It was hard to feel ‘interesting’ or ‘accomplished’ when Jude Bellingham was standing next to you but right now he managed to make you feel just that. Jude pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close. “You’re more than I ever could’ve imagined,” he murmured against your hair. “I don’t even know how to tell you what I’m feeling right now.” But he didn’t need to say anything more. In that quiet room, surrounded by your art and your memories, you both understood just how much deeper this connection went. You giggled softly, taking a seat and bringing Jude with you, your body naturally leaning into his. The warmth between you two felt comfortable, familiar. As you kissed his cheek, your hand reached out to a small box tucked beside the bed. Pulling it into your lap, you began to sift through its contents, nostalgic feelings rising to the surface. From the box, you pulled out a worn, slightly frayed paintbrush. Its handle was chipped, the bristles uneven, but it held a history that made your heart swell. 

“This,” you said, holding it out for Jude to see, “was my first paintbrush. My grandma gave it to me. It’s pretty crappy now, but back then, it felt like she was handing off a baton in a weird way.” Your voice softened, remembering her. “She was a painter too. When she got sick…it was like losing part of myself. I didn’t handle her death well at all.” Jude, his gaze fixed on you with deep empathy, gently took the brush from your hand, holding it with an almost reverent care. He looked at it as if it were some priceless artifact, but what really struck him was how much it meant to you. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know he understood. “I could teach you to paint sometime,” you offered with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood, although you meant every word. “If you’re interested.”

“I’d love that. Honestly, I’d love anything if it meant learning more about you.” Jude nodded, his eyes never leaving yours.  For a moment, the room was quiet, the weight of your shared vulnerability heavy yet comforting. He sighed, the sound almost carrying a burden of guilt. Jude was visibly emotional, and you could see something weighing on him. “I feel like I’ve dragged you into my world so much,” he admitted, his voice low. “And I almost forgot you have your own. I got so caught up in everything that…I don’t know, it just hit me.” You were about to respond when Jude asked, somewhat unexpectedly, “Would you paint for me one time? Just…let me watch you. I want to see your process, how you work. That brain of yours in action.” The request caught you off guard. It wasn’t something anyone had ever asked of you. You blinked, processing his words, feeling a sudden rush of emotion swell in your chest. No one had ever wanted to see you in your element—not like that. 

“No one’s ever cared about that part before,” you confessed quietly, your voice faltering. You shifted uncomfortably, your throat tightening. “All they ever want is the finished piece. The beautiful outcome. In every part of my life, it’s like…no one wants the raw stuff. No sketches, no mistakes.” You looked into Jude’s eyes, realizing how profound this moment was. Here he was, asking to see the mess, the uncertainty, the parts of yourself you usually kept hidden.

“But I do. I want to see it all. The process. The rawness. Everything that makes you who you are.” He brushed a thumb across your cheek, his expression soft and tender.  Your eyes stung with tears, but they were good tears. Ones that came from feeling seen, truly seen, for the first time. Jude wasn’t just interested in the shiny, perfect version of you. He wanted the layers, the chaos, the realness beneath.

“Okay,” you whispered, “I’ll paint for you.” You swallowed hard, nodding, a small tear slipping down your cheek. Jude pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. 

“Thank you, angel” he murmured into your hair, his voice full of gratitude. “I’m so lucky to know you.”  And in that moment, you knew he meant it in a way no one ever had before. You smiled softly as you led Jude through the house, feeling a growing sense of comfort. After sharing your art, it felt right to show him more of your world, the pieces of yourself that had been hidden for so long. You stopped in front of the kitchen pantry and pointed to an old cupboard, grinning as you spoke.

“I used to hide in here,” you said, the nostalgia in your voice evident. “My brother would try to find me, but this was my secret spot. I thought I was a genius.” Jude chuckled, his hand grazing yours, as he leaned closer to inspect the cupboard as if imagining a younger version of you tucked inside. 

"Bet you were impossible to find." He smiled. 

“Oh, I was very good at hiding,” you said playfully, leading him down the hallway. You guided him up a winding staircase, your voice soft but full of meaning. “There’s more I want to show you.” You entered a lounge area, stopping near an elegant grand piano.  "My dad plays this during Christmas," you explained. "We all gather here, and my grandpa makes the best martinis. It’s tradition." Jude’s eyes softened as he imagined the scene—your family, the music, the warmth of it all. You saw the way he took it in, every detail, like he was learning more about you through the spaces you occupied. Next, you showed him a room that was entirely your mother’s closet. It was more grand than anything he’d imagined, but it didn’t surprise him. “This is my mum’s sanctuary,” you said with a light laugh, pushing open the doors. “She’s always had a flair for fashion.” Jude whistled, his eyes wide, but he wasn’t just impressed by the luxury—he was captivated by how everything seemed to reflect who you were, your history, and your family’s essence. Afterward, you wandered into your dad’s office, which was lined with shelves of classic films. Jude looked around, clearly impressed by the collection. “He’s a bit of a film buff,” you explained, feeling proud of your dad’s passion. “We used to watch movies in here all the time.” You could sense how deeply Jude was appreciating this journey through your childhood, how every corner of the house seemed to reveal a new layer of who you were. Finally, you stopped in front of a large portrait hanging on the wall. It was of you as a little girl, painted in striking detail by a renowned artist. The significance of the artist was lost on Jude, but that wasn’t what mattered. He stood there, staring at the painting, his gaze transfixed on the image of you as a child. His breath caught in his throat, and you could see the emotion in his eyes, the way he was trying to process it all. The canvas seemed to capture something eternal—an essence of you that he hadn’t fully understood until now.

“That’s you,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “It’s… you.” 

“Yeah, that’s me.” You nodded, your voice quiet.  Jude’s eyes never left the painting, and for a moment, it felt like he was seeing you—the real you—in a way no one else ever had. There was a weight to the moment, a recognition that went beyond words. He turned to you, his hand gently brushing your arm. 

“You’re… gorgeous” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s like everything I’ve learned about you here makes sense. This house, these memories, everything… it’s all you.” You smiled, feeling a lump rise in your throat as the weight of his words settled over you. Jude wasn’t just appreciating the beauty or the luxury of your home. He was understanding the essence of what shaped you, what made you who you were. And that, more than anything, made your heart swell.

“I’m glad you got to see this part of me,” you whispered. “Thank you… for wanting to know. For all of today.” Jude pulled you close, his lips brushing your forehead in the softest of kisses. 

“I want to know everything about my girlfriend. Every detail, every story, every part.” And in that moment, you knew that Jude wasn’t just falling for the surface. He was falling for every intricate piece of who you were. Jude had been wandering through your family’s home for what felt like hours, and it made him laugh inside. The place was enormous—winding staircases, hidden rooms, grand closets, and memories packed into every corner. Yet, somehow, you were still nestled in the heart of Paris, as if this sprawling sanctuary was tucked away behind the city’s cobbled streets. It was such a paradox, but also, it was so you. Of course, your home was as hidden and intricate as you were.  Finally, you both reached the top floor, stepping out onto the rooftop. The breeze was cool, and the sky was painted with shades of gray, but you could still see the Seine winding through the city and, far in the distance, the Eiffel Tower piercing through the clouds.

“Wow. You really can see the whole world from up here.” Jude whistled, impressed.

“Told you.” You smiled, looking out over the familiar view. He stood behind you again, pulling you against him as you both stared out at the city. For a moment, it was just the two of you and Paris. His arms tightened around your waist, and he rested his chin on your shoulder again, his voice soft.

“Happy?” he asked, his tone shifting, more serious now. You turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes. 

“Never in my life have I felt happier.” As you stood there, with the Paris skyline stretching out behind you, you felt more than just the connection to the city—you felt it to him. Jude had seen the world, traveled to countless cities, and yet there was something about this—seeing Paris from your rooftop—that felt different. It was like stepping into an oasis, a secret world high above the streets where the Seine shimmered below, and the gray Parisian skyline stretched out like a dream. The gardens of Luxembourg, the distant spire of the Eiffel Tower peeking through the clouds—it was all there, quietly perfect. He stood there, taking it in, a moment of awe flickering across his face. And then, he turned to you, watching as you soaked it all in with a soft smile. He could tell that this was more than just a view for you—this was home. This was your world, the one you had kept so close, and now you were sharing it with him. You caught his gaze, and with a grin, you slipped away to a small bar area tucked into the corner of the roof. Moments later, you returned with a bottle of champagne, the bubbles dancing inside the glass. Plopping down onto a cushioned couch, you offered the bottle to Jude, but he shook his head, eyes sparkling.

“You probably do it better,” he said with a smirk. You giggled, knowing he was probably right, and as the cork popped and flew into the air, you saw Jude’s smile widen. He sat down beside you, close enough that his leg brushed yours, the energy between you electric but softened by the warmth of the moment.

“Consider this our relationships aperitif,” you teased, handing him a glass as you poured. 

“A perfect start then.” He laughed softly, eyes never leaving yours. For a while, you both sat in a comfortable silence, sipping the champagne, your bodies close as you looked out over the city. But Jude kept glancing at you, unable to decide what view was more beautiful—Paris or you. As cliché as it sounded, he wasn’t sure which took his breath away more. The city, with its romantic skyline and old-world charm, or you, sitting there with your carefree smile, your hair catching the sunlight, and that spark in your eyes that made him feel like he was falling for you all over again. “This… it’s all so you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.” He reached for your hand, his fingers brushing yours as he spoke, his voice low. There was a pause. You could feel the gravity of the moment, the way the champagne in your glass seemed to swirl in slow motion, the city below you quieted as if it were just the two of you in the world. “You know…” Jude’s voice was quieter now, more vulnerable. “I’ve been to so many places. But this... sitting here with you, seeing Paris through your eyes... I don’t think I’ve ever felt this close to someone before. Like, really close.” He cooed.

“I’ve never really shared this with anyone before. My world, I mean. It’s just... hard, sometimes.” Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned in slightly, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you for letting me in.” Jude kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering as he held you a little tighter. And as you sat there, the city lights beginning to twinkle in the distance, you realized how much this moment meant. It wasn’t just the beauty of the view or the champagne; it was the fact that for the first time, someone really saw you—the raw, unfiltered version. And that person was Jude, the one who had been through the ups and downs with you, and was still sitting there, holding your hand like he never wanted to let go. The rooftop felt like a sanctuary, far removed from the world below. The golden glow of the Parisian streetlights flickered in the distance, and the soft breeze carried the faint sounds of the city’s night. Wrapped in Jude’s arms, you felt cocooned in a moment that felt infinite. His steady heartbeat echoed in your ears, and the warmth of his body pressed against yours made the night air feel even more serene. You hesitated before speaking, unsure of how to bring up what had been swirling in your mind. The thought had felt too big, too sudden, yet the more time you spent with him, the more right it seemed.

“So… would you... maybe. Like would you want to go to my family’s chateau?”  You shifted in his arms, looking up at the stars, before glancing up at him through your lashes, your voice coming out soft and tentative Jude’s head tilted slightly, his lips twitching in amusement as his eyes flickered with that familiar playfulness. 

“Me? You want me to meet your family,” he sang, his voice lilting with mock seriousness, as if it was a grand revelation. You let out a laugh, your face warming under his teasing. 

“No, I mean, yes, but not like that,” you tried to explain, stumbling over your words. “It’s just… my family’s there, and it feels like the right time, you know? If we're already in France... it’s a bit of a drive but I want you to meet them.” Jude’s grin widened, and before you could say another word, he gently pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around your waist as he started to sway you both side to side. 

“Angel,” he murmured softly, his lips brushing the top of your head, “it’s only right. You’ve already met my family. It’s about time I met yours, too, yeah?” He cooed. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your heart fluttering at his words. The nerves you had been holding onto dissolved into something warmer, something deeper. You weren’t afraid of him meeting your family, but there was still an underlying current of anticipation. This felt like a big step, a solidifying of the bond you had been building since you met. 

“I just—” you started, but Jude stopped you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. His presence, as always, was grounding. You melted into him, resting your head against his chest, feeling the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said quietly. “I want to meet them.. I want to know all the parts of you.” The weight of his words settled between you, heavy but comforting. You smiled into his chest, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The city below continued its hum, but up here, it was just the two of you, caught in your own little world. Eventually, you glanced up at him again, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his arm. 

“So… we’ll stay here tonight?” You asked. Jude blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. 

“Uh, I mean… if that’s what you want…” His brow furrowed in a cute, puzzled expression as he stammered,  You couldn’t help but smile at his hesitation. There was something in the way he responded that told you he hadn’t expected this at all. 

“Oh wait,” you teased, your voice filled with playful suspicion. “Did you… have something else planned?” You asked. Jude’s sheepish grin was immediate, and it gave him away. He rubbed the back of his neck in that endearing way he always did when he was caught off guard. 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting us to stay at your family’s tonight,” he admitted, his eyes glinting with humor but also with a hint of something deeper. “I didn’t even know if you’d want to go in.” He smirked.  Of course, you thought. He had flown you to Paris, organized the Grand Palais to look unbelievable for him to ask you to be his girlfriend—it was all so romantic, so meticulously planned. You laughed, the sound soft but full of warmth, knowing how much care he had put into this night. 

“Of course you did,” you teased, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw as you gazed up at him. “You’re not one to do things halfway, are you?” You smirked. Jude chuckled, his arms tightening around you. 

“Not when it comes to you, no, angel.” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur, his lips brushing against your forehead. Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of emotion at the way he looked at you. The mischievous glint in his eyes had softened, replaced with something more serious, more intimate. You felt a rush of affection for him, for how much effort he had put into making this night special.

“Take me where you want.” You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered. Jude’s breath hitched at the mischievous tone in your voice, and a slow, satisfied grin spread across his face. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes gleaming with excitement and affection. 

“Oh, angel,” he said, his voice low and full of promise, his lips barely brushing yours before he leaned in for a kiss. The kiss was slow and lingering, filled with the unspoken emotions that had been building between you all night. It was a kiss that felt like a promise, like the beginning of something even bigger than the two of you could imagine.  When you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his, and you both sat there in silence, the rooftop around you forgotten, the city below distant. “I’m excited to meet them,” Jude whispered, breaking the comfortable quiet. “But I’m even more excited to spend tonight with you. Taking you right to bed.” He smirked. You smiled, feeling your heart swell with happiness. In this moment, it didn’t matter where the night would take you—what mattered was that you were with him, and that, together, you were building something beautiful. 

You and Jude stumbled out of your family’s home, the night air cool against your flushed skin as you both burst into fits of giggles. Paris was magical at night, and in your slightly tipsy haze, it felt even more surreal. You clung to each other, walking in sync down the cobblestone streets, laughing about nothing in particular, but everything at the same time. Jude’s arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, his other hand keeping a steadying grip on your own as you both wobbled along. 

“God, that wine is so good, angel” he chuckled, his voice a little slurred but full of warmth. You maybe had overindulged in the perks of your family’s vineyard on the roof. 

“Maybe,” you giggled back, leaning into him as you walked, “just maybe we’ve had a bit too much wine.”

“Nah, we’re fine. But… food. Definitely food.” Jude grinned, his eyes sparkling under the dim streetlights. You both stumbled your way to the Four Seasons, somehow managing to make it to the penthouse suite, where the lights of Paris glistened through the windows. The second the door closed behind you, you both burst into another round of laughter, leaning against the wall for support.

“Baby…Room service?” you suggested, still giggling as you kicked off your shoes, your voice a little more breathless now.

“Absolutely,” Jude agreed, already grabbing the phone with a slight fumble. “What are we ordering? Everything?” He smirked. 

“Definitely everything,” you said, collapsing onto the plush couch, your head tilting back as you stared up at the high ceiling. “Maybe… some fries, a burger… and—oh, dessert! We need dessert, Jude.” Jude looked over at you, his eyes soft as he watched you, the smile never leaving his lips. 

“Yeah, we need dessert,” he agreed, still watching you as if you were the most mesmerizing thing in the world. You caught his gaze and blushed, the warmth spreading from your chest. 

“What?” you asked, feeling your heart flutter.

“Nothing,” he said, picking up the phone to place the order. He walked back over to you, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his arms. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

“You’re drunk,” you teased lightly. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Maybe I am. But I’m never too drunk to be in love with you.” Jude chuckled softly, brushing a kiss against your temple. You sighed happily, your arms wrapping around him as you nestled closer, the world outside disappearing as you sat there together. Drunk, yes, but perfectly content. The kind of drunk where the laughter was louder, the touches softer, and everything just felt lighter.

“Maybe,” you whispered, closing your eyes as you breathed him in, “I’m gonna go change quick.” You told Jude sitting up. Ever thoughtful, you had no idea that Jude had all your bags from the plane brought to the hotel. 

“Okay, angel.” Jude cooed but there was a glint in his eye that made an idea pop into your head. Feeling playful and seductive, you approach the bed, your fingers deftly peeled off your dress, watching the heavy fabric pool onto the floor. You were initially going to change into something else but this felt more… right. Your movements were deliberate and teasing, slowed by the haze of alcohol. You stood in the luxe room just in your panties, your full, round tits, heavy with anticipation, your nipples already taut and begging for attention. You stepped out of your dress around your feet, leaving it on the floor. Now clad only in a skimpy pair of lace panties, you climbed onto the bed, your heart racing with excitement. The soft sheets caress your bare skin as you stretch out, your long legs on display, leading up to the moist center of your desire.

Jude finished calling room service, seeing as you hadn’t returned he came to the bedroom and as he came through the door frame, his eyes immediately locked onto you, his jaw dropping in awe. His gaze travels up your body, taking in your smooth thighs, the curve of your hips, and the swell of your tits. He took a step towards the bed, his eyes never leaving your naked form.

"You are fucking unreal," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. He knelt on the bed, leaning over to place a soft kiss on the inside of your ankle. He worked his way up, kissing the sensitive skin behind your knee, the tender spot that makes you squirm. His lips trailing along the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "So fucking sexy," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. His hands sliding up your thighs, gently grasping your hips and pulling you towards him. He planted a kiss on the crease of your thigh, so close to your core, making you gasp and arch your back. Jude's lips finally meet yours, and he kisses you deeply, passionately. His tongue dances with yours, mimicking the intimacy yet to come. His hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts, thumbing your nipples until they peak even harder. He praises you, whispering how beautiful and sexy you are, his words making you melt into the sheets. "Fuck food. I want you so much, angel," he growled, his voice filled with raw desire. With a growl of possession, he tore at your lace panties with his teeth, ripping the fabric away from your body. Your pussy, glistening with arousal, is now fully exposed to his hungry gaze. He leant down, his breath tickling your sensitive flesh. "Always so wet for me," he says, his voice thick with need. His tongue traced the outline of your pussy, parting your folds gently before delving deeper. He ate you with abandon, his tongue flicking your clit, then plunging into your hot, wet center. Your hands gripped his hair, holding him close as waves of pleasure wash over you. He teased your sweet spot, sucking and licking until you're writhing beneath him, your moans filling the room. He devoured you, his mouth relentless, driving you closer and closer to the edge. And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, you cried out his name as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body shaking, and you clutch at the sheets, your release so intense it leaves you breathless. You pulled at Jude’s arms with one hand to come kiss you only for him to shudder when your other hand wrapped around his painfully hard dick. Watching you cum had made him even harder and he couldn’t wait to have you and watch you fall apart on his cock.  

Jude, not yet satisfied, pulls you up, positioning you above him. Your legs straddle his waist, and you feel his hard length against your throbbing core. He groaned at the feeling. The feeling was overwhelming, Jude shut his eyes and rocked up against you, delirious with the friction. With one hand on his shoulder, you pushed yourself up onto your knees and lined his cock up with your entrance, sinking down slowly.   He guides you down, sinking yourself on his rigid cock, filling yourself with him. His size stretched you deliciously and the slight burning only added to the pleasure running through your veins. He was so big, you could feel him in your stomach once you were fully seated and you actually needed a moment to adjust. 

“Fuck, you feel so big,” You whined as Jude dropped his forehead to your chest. He felt big and you felt so tight he was trying to avoid cumming on the spot. You slowly began to roll your hips at a slow pace. You begin to ride him, setting a slow, tortuous pace. Your tits bouncing with each downward thrust, and you lean forward, your nipples grazing his chest, creating a delicious friction. He filled you completely, stretching and satisfying you in ways you never imagined. Jude's hands gripped your hips, helping you find a rhythm as you bounced atop him. The pleasure continuing to build, intensifying with every stroke. You leaned back, giving him an alluring view as you fuck him, your eyes locked on his.

"Fuck, angel, you feel so good," he grunts, his eyes dark with passion. He encouraged you to ride him harder, faster, and you oblige, eager to please. You grind down on him, your clit rubbing against his pelvis, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You were both completely entranced on the slow drag of his cock, you could feel every hard vein and ridge of it slowly fucking into you.  As you rode him, your bodies slick with sweat, he reached between your bodies, stroking your clit in time with his thrusts. The sensation becoming overwhelming, a perfect storm of pleasure. You threw your head back, your hair cascading down your back as you climaxed again, crying out his name. “Good girl.  Cum on my cock.” Jude  Your eyes locked onto his, and he held your gaze 

“Holy shit, Jude. That… that.” You couldn’t get your words out as you slowed a top of him. You sat up letting Jude’s hard cock begging for release come out before sitting back down taking all of him again. 

“Oh my god.” Jude scoffed a bit in disbelief at how good you felt. He slapped your ass as if to act as a start gun and you smirked. You moaned at his second slap, the sting of his massive hand against your skin. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you. “Fuck baby, squeezing me so tight.”  Your eyes rolled back. You couldn’t do anything but give into your next orgasm building up. The room filled with the sound of your skin slapping.  

“Baby… Jude.. wait..” You managed to mutter out when he started to fuck you again.  His pace was relentless, his hips unforgiving as he moved, driving his cock up into of you, consistently hitting a spot so deep inside you. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh my- fuck.” he cursed. “I’m gonna cum.” His fingers dug into your skin and his head fell back, as he pushed his hips up one last time before he spilled into your tight heat. Jude rolled his eyes at the way you gently moved your hips against his to help him ride out his high.   It didn’t take long for your own orgasm to crash over you. Jude's grip on your hips tightened, and he bucks his hips wildly, driving himself deep into you. You followed him into ecstasy, his body tensing as yours shook. He cursed as he filled you. His cum painting your walls white. Your sensitive pussy overflowing with both of your juices. 

“Holy shit, baby.” You whined. As he stilled inside of you finishing out his high. He collapsed his head into the valley of your boobs when he was done. 

“Oh my god, Y/N.” He chuckled a little. You didn’t want him to pull out yet. you gripped your fingers on his hair and massaged his scalp, causing Jude to hum in contentment, whilst his hands caressed your back in soothing motions. You moved him to rest your face onto his chest, you could feel his heart pounding against you, both of you spent and satisfied. You kissed his neck, savoring the taste of your passion, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you possessively. "I love you," he whispers, his voice filled with adoration. You smiled feeling just that but you couldn’t speak. Not yet, not after that.  You were lying in bed, the soft light of the Parisian lights filtering through the curtains, bathing the room in a gentle warmth. Jude’s hand idly traced a fine line tattoo along the side of your boob, his touch light, almost absent-minded, but you could feel the care in every stroke of his fingers. His gaze followed the lines of ink, and after a few minutes of comfortable silence, he broke it with a question.

"Have I told you I like these?" he asked, his voice soft and thoughtful as he continued to drag his finger along one of your tattoos.

"That's good, because I can't seem to get them off," you replied, your tone light and playful. You smirked, glancing at him with a teasing glint in your eye.  Jude chuckled at that, the sound vibrating through his chest as his eyes flicked up to meet yours. You studied his face for a moment before curiosity got the better of you. 

"Would you ever get one? A tattoo, I mean." You asked. He paused, considering the question, his brow furrowing slightly as he thought. 

"Maybe," he said after a moment. "I like the idea of having something with me all the time." He told you. You giggled at that, the sound soft and bubbling from your lips as you trailed your hand over his chest, your fingers skimming lightly over his skin. 

"You could just get my name right here," you teased, tapping the spot over his heart. "That way you can keep me with you all the time." Jude rolled his eyes, but there was a small, thoughtful smile playing at the corners of his lips. He didn’t say anything, but you could see the wheels turning in his head, the way his eyes lingered on you a bit longer, like the idea had lodged itself somewhere in his mind. You didn’t push it, instead, you let the conversation fall into a peaceful silence, the two of you wrapped up in the warmth of each other’s presence. After a while, Jude leaned down, his lips pressing gently against your skin, leaving soft kisses in his wake. His touch was tender, almost reverent, and it made your heart swell. You closed your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, but then he spoke again, his words catching your attention.

"Actually," he murmured against your skin, "I would get one. Now that I’ve thought about it." You opened your eyes, looking at him curiously. 

"Oh? What would you get?" You asked. Jude smiled, kissing you again, his lips brushing the soft curve of your shoulder.

"Baby, you're the only person I want with me 24 hours a day," he whispered, his voice full of sincerity that made your heart flutter in your chest. You smiled at that, your cheeks flushing slightly as you ran your fingers through his hair, your heart swelling with affection. He kissed you once more, lingering for a moment before pulling back, his expression soft but serious. "Maybe a little angel," he mused, more to himself than to you. His lips curved into a smile as if the idea was taking root in his mind. "Yeah, I think I'd like that a lot." He told you. You grinned at him, warmth spreading through you as the thought of him carrying something so personal to you with him wherever he went made your heart swell. 

"A little angel," you repeated, your voice full of affection. "I think I’d like that too." Jude kissed you again, slow and tender, his lips capturing yours in a way that felt like a promise—a promise that no matter where life took you both, you'd always have each other. Suddenly, it occured to you that you two had made a plan for tomorrow and hadn’t told your family any of it. It was late but you knew they’d be awake.

"I'm gonna call my mum," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of nerves and excitement. The night was beautiful, and the warmth of his arms wrapped around you made everything feel perfect. You glanced at him, feeling a sudden burst of excitement.

"Right now?" Jude raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You were currently naked in bed but she wouldn’t know that. You nodded, already reaching for your phone. 

"I just want to tell her we are going to come to the vineyard. She won’t say anything but she’d kill me if I showed up with you and she didn’t have a meal prepared.” You smiled.

“Alright, call her. I’m curious to hear her reaction.” Jude chuckled, his grip around your waist tightening. The phone rang a few times before your mum’s warm voice came through the line. 

“Ma petite fille! [ my little girl] What a surprise to hear from you so late, chérie! Where are you?” Your mum cooed over the phone. You smiled, glancing at Jude. 

“Paris, maman. I just actually wanted to ask you something.” You slowly dragged out the question, getting a bit nervous to actually tell her you were bringing a boy home.

“Tu es à la maison? [You’re at home?] Ah okay. D'accord chéri [Okay, dear] What is it?” She said, her voice immediately taking on that tone of curiosity that only a mother could have.

“So… Was going to come to the vineyard tomorrow. Is that okay? I mean, Jude, my Jude…I want him to meet you all. Papa est là? [Is dad there?] Is that alright?” You stumbled feeling a bit nervous suddenly.  There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a soft squeal of excitement.

“Oh mon Dieu, of course! Of course, bring him! I’ve been dying to meet this Jude you’ve been going on about. I want to meet this beautiful boy. Your dad will be thrilled! Louis est là aussi.”  [Louis is here too].  She told you. You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. 

“Merci maman. I knew you’d say yes. I can’t wait for you to meet him.” You smiled looking up at Jude. As you were about to say goodbye, you heard your dad’s voice booming in the background. 

“Est-ce que c'est mon beau bébé?” [Is that my beautiful baby?]  Your dad yelled to your mum. You couldn’t help but grin as your dad’s voice got louder. “Tell mon chère to drive my car out to the chateau. S'il te plaît!” He cooed. You shook your head, rolling your eyes affectionately. 

“Papa really needs me to drive his car out?" You asked your mum while you sympathetically smiled at Jude. Jude, who had been quietly listening, smirked at that, clearly amused. You mouthed  ‘don’t ask’ to him, stifling a laugh.

“Parfaite! Parfaite! I’ll tell papa you agreed then,” your mum said before her tone turned warm again. “We’re so excited to meet him, darling. Jude sounds wonderful.” She cooed. 

“He really is,” you said, glancing at him, your heart swelling. “Merci, Maman. à bientôt!” [see you soon] You cooed as you hung up, Jude looked at you with a teasing glint in his eye. 

“So… your dad’s car, huh?” Jude smirked.  You groaned, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“He doesn’t need it. I don’t know. He has other cars but this car… It’s a thing.” You smiled back at him. “He probably wants it to actually use, but I don’t know, maybe he’s doing it to like set the tone with you.” You sighed.  Jude laughed, pulling you closer.  Your dad was protective of you and the car he wanted you to drive out, it definitely had the effect on people, boys in particular, to feel a bit daunted by it.

“Alright. I can’t wait to see it. And your family.” Jude cooed. 

“They’re going to love you,” you said, feeling your heart skip a beat at the thought of tomorrow. Your mum’s excitement, your dad’s request—it all felt so surreal, but it also felt right. You could feel the gravity of the moment sinking in. Tomorrow, Jude would meet your family, and somehow, it felt like the start of something even more significant. As the city of Paris sparkled outside, and the night stretched on, the two of you remained there, lost in each other, the promise of love and room service keeping you blissfully wrapped up in the moment.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 15 - Le Château xx

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Sympathy for Breakfast

(Part 1)

—

Time Written - 9:03 p.m

(Completely unrelated photo it’s just funny to me, also just a silly part 2 for no reason. SFW silly, he stands like this for a majority of this Drabble)

—

The early rays of morning sun sent an irritating glare of bright light through his mask when he feels a faint rumble, making him instinctively reach for his phone.

You coming home soon?

I have a surprise :)

Love you <3

Jason smiles at the screen, feeling glad that his girl woke up on the good side of the bed. However, he checked the time, slowly growing concerned as to why you were up so early.

The diner the both of you adored on weekends and midnights wasn’t even open yet.

A handful of thoughts course through his tired brain. Some of them concerning, some of them far from appropriate.

“Good morning, Mister Hood.” You smile from your position on the ground as he shuffled himself through the front door, carrying double bagged to-go boxes in hand.

The only comfort he had at this moment, besides the fragrant hot coffee inside the machine pot, was seeing your smiling, well rested expression. Your hair was styled to keep out of your way as your main focus, the ‘surprise’, was the project the two of you had been putting off on for a while.

“Babe, what’re you doing?”

You sat criss cross on the living room floor in front of an ash gray, large convertible crib, newly put together by yourself alone.

“Built the crib! Isn’t it pretty?” You extend your hands out towards the sight, the crib equipped with every detail perfectly in place. All you had to do left was add in the bedding onto the new mattress for your son, and it’s fully finished.

A very special bed for a very special boy, already loved before he’s even born.

“The box weighed a ton.” Was Jason’s first statement as he eyed the empty box and scattered foam borders. He sets his helmet and breakfast on the dining room table, approaching the messy living room.

“It wasn’t heavy,” you quickly state, gesturing your head over towards the corner of the living room, where the box had sat behind the couch for a good three months.

“It was super easy too! What do you think?” You immediately ask, not liking how he was too concerned for everything but the surprise.

Their was a cute, eager glimmer in your eyes as you stared up at him, like a little girl showing off her extravagant art piece. Right there, he understood why you had lately become quite OCD with all the baby’s essentials.

Sorting out all the supplies, washing all the clothes, ordering a new baby blanket set because it didn’t arrive in the shade of teal blue you wanted.

Nesting. You were nesting.

Cute.

“It’s nice,” Jason says, tilting his head as he examines the large crib. How the hell his eight month pregnant sweetheart built this heavy crib all on your own was a full body shiver he tried very, very hard to refrain expressing.

“Yeah, very nice. How’s it, uh… how’s it gonna fit through the door?”

“What?” Your smile slowly drops. “Huh?”

“I mean, it’s pretty wide?” Jason peeks over towards their semi open bedroom door. “I don’t think the crib will fit through…”

You go quiet, looking over at the crib you were proud of merely seconds ago.

“Huh??”

You express once more, noticing this large, extravagantly built crib, with bottom drawers prepared to pack in freshly washed baby clothes, would be a little too wide to push through the bedroom door. Especially with the bed in the way.

“But this took … this took forever!” Your voice held that tremble that Jason suspected would come, making him playfully pout.

“Awww, Princess.” He tried so hard to hold back a smile or laugh, quickly failing behind his gloved palm.

“Don’t laugh!” You yell up at him. “I was so proud of myself! This was the one time we buy something from IKEA, and I didn’t have to second guess the instructions a hundred times! Now you’re saying it won’t fit through the door!”

Cause it won’t. Jason wasn’t cruel enough to voice it, simply gazing down at his love, who hid her face from his view, still perched in the center of empty screw bags, power tools, and ever so finicky foam beads.

As tired as he was from patrol, this topped the cake of interesting things to happen yet.

He wasn’t delighted to see you cry aggravated tears from this daunting realization you completely missed, but the outcome of your hard work at such an early hour… only to be stumped, it’s funny. Jason can’t help that.

His shoulders bounced with his light laughter, settling down in front of his woman, who had exhausted hands covering that pretty face from him.

“S’okay Princess. Crib looks gorgeous, an’ you still possess all fingers and toes. Proud of you, but no more heavy lifting. Alright?”

His soft praise and gentle warning fell on acknowledging ears, but responded to with shameful silence. Jason couldn’t help that you were a little impatient with exciting tasks, he wouldn’t ask you to change that.

It’s like asking him to stop his horrible, eye rolling humor. Or twisted, cruelly timed jokes. It’s impossible.

He softly shushes you, kissing the top of your forehead. His eyes glance back to the crib, overall impressed at how you put it all together so well by yourself.

At the start of living in your own apartment, the both of you took many IKEA dates. Each night ended up in some form of aggravated frustration over a piece of furniture placed wrong, or the irritation of an extra screw from a missing slot once the entire piece was already finished.

“You take your vitamins?” Jason prompts, watching your head slowly shake no, still sniffling behind your hands.

You were too fixated on building the crib and getting everything together, you forgot the key component of a successful pregnancy; to worry about your own health. The biggest of priorities.

Yep. Nesting.

“We’ll eat, take your vitamins, an’ have our food comas. No worries ‘bout the crib mama, I’ll take care of it.”

Jason’s soothing voice was almost enough to settle your nerves, or the mention of food actually.

“Did you go to Benny’s?”

“Mhm. Got your favorite.”

“Can you help me up?” You reluctantly ask, giving him those pink flushed puppy eyes that he couldn’t go against.

“Whatever the lady wants.”

Tired muscles slip underneath your arms, cradling your sides as he helps you up off the ground. Your swollen belly nudges against his abdomen, making his heart melt. He wondered if your manic rush of dopamine woke up his boy, softly smirking at the idea of you chastising your relentlessly kicking son whilst building his future bed.

“Baby boy missed you, by the way.” You say, as if you just read his mind.

God, kill him already. His twice beating heart can’t take much more of this.

“He just wants food,” Jason chides before stepping to the side, letting you slowly waddle to the kitchen.

“We’re all on the same boat, Papa.”

God, please scratch that last thought. He’s in heaven.

Jason’s exhaustion didn’t stop him from nudging you towards your seat, taking the empty mugs from your hands to fill them with Colombian roast.

He wasn’t just being courteous; he was making sure you didn’t have too much caffeine, diluting the majority of your cup with your preferred milk.

After taking those vitamins you needed, Jason finally allowed himself to sit down and rest, too lazy to pull off anything other than his tactical belt and leather jacket.

He watches the love of his life through hooded eyes open your plate, your expression brightening as if you didn’t just sob over the crib mishap. Something he most definitely wasn’t going to mention at a manor dinner about three years from now.

Fluffy blueberry pancakes, piled with fresh fruit and savory sausage on the side. Honey cinnamon butter, and extra syrup. All topped with chocolate chips.

Beside it, an egg white spinach, cheesy omelette. With vegan cheese, for some odd reason. Suddenly, you had as much distain to cheddar and mozzarella, possibly most dairy, as you did to egg yolks in your omelettes.

This was your breakfast, The only meal out of your three meals a day that wasn’t invaded by a strange concoction of spicy pickles or vinegar based hot sauce. Or any other horrible last minute choices.

Something tells Jason that he’s going to see cake eaten for breakfast after the birth for a good while. Not like he’s going to complain, honestly.

Whatever he can do to combat the birthing blues, but that’s a concern for the future.

“Babe.”

“Hm?” You glance up from your plate before you dug in, seeing that same gentle smirk he carried on his face for the past four minutes.

“I was kidding, by the way.” His smile slowly grew the quicker it sets in, expecting to get pummeled by fruit after this;

“The crib will fit through the door.”

[tojisbbg]

❈ 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗺𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻 ❈

❝one day i will stop falling in love with you, some day, someone will like me like i like you.❞

♡ manjiro sano ♡

pt.1, pt. 2

a/n: highly requested for pt. 2!! you ask and i shall deliver 😌

content: mikey x reader (y/n), very heavy angst, right person wrong time, you’re mikey’s childhood friend, he’s getting married (lolz), not grammatically checked/edited

...

it was currently seven in the evening, the newlyweds bid the last couple of guests goodbye. throughout the whole event, mikey tried his very best to plaster on the most convincing smile he possibly could to mask the chaos going on inside him. 

there was never a second where you’ve left his mind, ghosting through every lane in his brain as he couldn’t focus on anything but you. he felt guilty, knowing that perhaps his marriage wasn’t going to last as long as he had hoped for. 

“better invite us to the housewarming party, sano. your wife’s cookies are no joke.” pah nudged mikey, a small laugh leaving his chapped lips as he faintly nodded his head. mikey watched pah walking towards the door before suddenly stopping, watching as his friend bent down to fix the bottom of his wife’s dress. the hopeless boy couldn’t help but watch, observing the affection and love reciprocating between pah and his wife, before they both left together. 

in the back of his mind, the memory of you zipping up his jacket properly during the cold winter season, lending him your scarf and making sure that he was all warm and snuggled up was fresh in his mind. you always made sure that he never got sick and when he did, you would ditch everything in your agenda to make it your business to nurse him back to health. 

no one has ever cared for him like you have and mikey knew what he had to do. 

“honey?” the voice of his wife awakened him from his train of thoughts, turning his head to the side as he was met with a warm smile. god, he felt so guilty for what he has done and was about to do. 

“yeah?” he responded, waiting for her to ask.

“i was thinking that the two of us could have a small movie night when we get home.” she suggested, eyes twinkling with hope as mikey gulped harshly. 

home.

they bought a house together and planned to live there forever until time was up. but, he always wished that it was you instead. mikey couldn’t bare to look her in the eye, clearing his throat as he tried to think of an excuse. 

“it’s been a long day, you must be tired. i’ll drop you home and go over to ken-chin’s place since he suddenly left and isn’t answering my calls. get some rest, okay?” he lied straight through his lips, and his poor wife was too naive and quickly sympathized with it. 

“of course, i hope him and y/n are okay. let me know what happens, hm?” suddenly, she wrapped her arms around him, making him freeze. 

it felt so wrong, like he was being suffocated. mikey didn’t like this one bit at all, it felt too new and unpleasant. he’s been with ___ for a couple years by now and these things were never an issue. yet, after your sudden confession, the regret of not coming clean to his feelings years back ate him alive. 

“hm, let’s go.” mikey gave her a smile, placing a hand on her back as he led her out of the church. 

the drive to his house was not very long, giving him enough time to quickly slip out of the annoying suit as he slipped on a pair of jeans and a flannel. he saw his wife sitting on the couch, a small bag of chips in her hands as she munched on the salty snack while watching a rom-com movie. she noticed him and gave him a wave, making mikey want to rip his hair out as he just wanted to tell her the truth. 

but, he wasn’t ready yet. 

he walked over to her and place a faint kiss on her forehead before looking down at her. 

“i’ll be back soon.” mikey assured, making her nod as she watched his figure walk out of the front door. 

the ride to the brothel was about thirty minutes, making mikey curse on why he bought a place that had to be so far. the urgency to see you grew stronger and stronger with every light and block he passed. mikey quickly parked his car after arriving in front of the brothel before rushing out to go up to the floor where you and draken lived on. 

the elevator dinged and he stepped off, now standing in front of your door. his breathing became irregular, anxiety swallowing him up whole. all the possibilities of you hating him and banishing him away from your life scared him to death. a shaky fist came up to the wooden door, knocking twice. 

the door opened, revealing his tall best friend, staring down at him with a death stare that made chills run down his spine. 

“ke-”

“what do you want?” draken brashly cut him off, making mikey’s lips agape as this sudden behavior from his right-hand man was completely unexpected. surely he knows that you might’ve ranted to draken about whatever happened between you two, but usually draken doesn’t like to get involved in neither your or mikey’s personal life. 

“i just came to see y/n and talk with her, five minutes is all i’m asking for.” mikey chewed on his lower lip, eyes sternly on his shoes as he couldn’t bare to see his friend look at him with such hate-filled eyes. draken bitterly laughed, making mikey wince in pain as he knew that this was going to be bad.

“oh, so now you wanna see her, huh? you disappeared for nine fucking years, sano. nine damn years! you didn’t care about my little sister at all, whether she was alive or dead. did she tell you that she fell sick from not eating because she was looking for you? how she couldn’t sleep a single night in peace ‘cause she thought you were dead? of course not, you were too busy being blind and fucking some other bitch.” draken yelled through gritted teeth, making mikey look up at him with anger. 

“mind your fucking words, don’t call ___ a bitch.” the shorter spat out, tension growing between the both. 

“how rude of me, i forgot that you were a gentleman. well then, goodnight.” draken scoffed, attempting to close the door before a foot lodged into the remaining space. 

“please, all i’m asking for is five minutes.” mikey begged, tears welling in his eyes. 

“you had nine years to talk to her, but you didn’t. there is no five minutes, mikey.” the taller spoke, voice know cracking as mikey’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“w-what do you mean? where’s y/n? don’t just stay quiet, answer me!” he grabbed onto draken’s arms, only to have it harshly ripped away from his grasp. 

“she’s dead! y/n is dead, my sister is gone.” the tears that draken has been holding on since mikey has arrived came flooding down, as he glared at his best friend with bitterness. 

the words kept on repeating inside of mikey’s mind, taunting him as it felt like time has stopped. for some reason, it felt as if his body turned into stone, he couldn’t move. suddenly, a wave of rage began to build up, making him grit his teeth before balling his fists. anger clouded his sight as all he saw was red, eyes darkening.

“you piece of shit!” mikey bellowed, lunging towards draken before landing a hard punch on his jaw. remi screamed in horror, panicking as she saw both men breaking out into a violent fight. 

“you knew about her tumor! you fucking knew and you didn’t tell me?! what kind of a fucking friend are you, traitorous jackass!” mikey continued to throw endless amounts of punches on draken’s face, receiving some back as well, but no matter how hard draken hit, he felt numb. 

“stop!” remi yelled, before throwing her shoe at mikey’s head, making him wince at the stinging pain the heel left. draken was on the ground, breathing heavily as he shoved the smaller figure on top of him to the side. 

“do you think that beating each other to death will bring y/n back? do you think she’ll be happy? huh?!” the girl sobbed, landing a hard slap on each of their cheeks as both draken and mikey looked down at the floor in shame. 

“her death was inevitable, that tumor was a ticking bomb. she’s finally free from those painful chemo sessions, headaches, vomiting and seizure episodes. she won’t suffer anymore.” remi sadly smiled, body trembling as draken pulled her into his chest. 

“i deserved to know, she was my other half.” mikey lowly spoke, tears pooling in his eyes, blurring his vision. 

“you didn’t deserve shit, sano. all y/n has ever done is love you with all her heart. you were her world, everything revolved around you. yet, you failed to notice that. what did you do instead? you fucking disappeared without a word. oh and even better, you found some chick too. you never cared about my baby sister, you didn’t! so stop acting like the victim here.” draken sneered, meeting mikey’s teary eyes as he grew quiet.

“i was trying to protect her, i was afraid that my presence in her life would do more harm than good. i was scared that one day something bad would’ve happened to her because it involved something to do with me. i couldn’t risk it, that why i even disbanded toman.” mikey explained, breaking out into a painful cry as his heart bled. 

“did you even love her?” draken questioned, watching the man in front of him choke on tears. 

“god, i loved her to the moon and back! she was all that i could think of every second that i breathed. if i knew sooner, then i would’ve never left. i would’ve never been a coward, i’d stay by her side to protect her. i could’ve had more time!” mikey yelled in agony, making draken grab a hold of him. 

“it would’ve never been enough! y/n didn’t tell you because she knew that it would’ve destroyed you.” draken hugged him, patting his back as remi joined them both as well. 

after a few minutes, draken decided to take remi outside for a small walk, feeling like they needed some fresh air. this gave mikey some time to go see you. he hesitated for a bit, not being able to face you even though you were long gone. but, he eventually mustered up the courage and opened your door. 

there, you laid on the bed like a pretty flower, your skin pale as snow due to the life in you being drained out. 

“i know you told me that you didn’t wanna see me again, but i missed you. i don’t wanna let you go, y/n. i can’t live without my other half, i love you so much.” he cried, stroking your cold face as his tears fell on your cheek. 

if only he knew, he would’ve cherished you longer. 

---

mikey walked inside his house, eyes swollen from crying in the car, nearly getting into an accident twice from his blurred vision. 

he saw his wife with a teary face, her friend my her side rubbing her back. the both of them noticed his appearence, and instead of a look of relief, the both of them looked angry. 

mikey stood in his place, watching his wife rise from her spot and walking towards him before landing a harsh slap on his face. 

“you fucking cheater! you don’t love me, i was your escape route. you love y/n, don’t you?” she asked, voice becoming shaky as she looked at mikey through glossy eyes. 

mikey remained quiet, and there she got her answer. 

“i knew it, i knew it! yet i still had some trust and hope within you that my guts were wrong. that maybe those little gestures you both gave each other was nothing but platonic. i was wrong, you and that two-faced bitch lied to me!” she screamed in agony. 

“watch you mouth! you don’t get to call her that, you heard me? everything that she has ever done for anyone was nothing but a selfless act. you don’t know her.” mikey said through gritted teeth, making his wife scoff. 

“yeah? well, you can now go back to her and continue to kiss her mighty ass ‘cause i want a divorce.” she sternly said, crossing her arms over her chest before walking to the door with her friend. 

“i’ll get you the papers by next week.” mikey bluntly said, not even trying to fight or defend himself. he was tired and he didn’t want to live in an unhappy marriage for the rest of his life knowing that his heart belonged to you and only you. 

“why? i wish to cut my ties with you as soon as possible.” she said with disgust laced in her tone. 

“because i have to attend y/n’s funeral.” mikey deadpanned, making his wife’s mouth gape open. 

“huh, guess karma is real. that’s what you get, sano.” his wife’s best friend taunted, making his now ex-wife giggle. 

“i’ll come tomorrow to get my stuff. i can’t stand to stay here for another minute. also, i hope that two-faced bitch burns in hell.” she cockily said before heading out the door, slamming it shut. 

---

it’s been about a month since you’ve died and mikey hasn’t visited your grave yet. he was there for your funeral, seeing how draken never requested the morgue people to not take off the promise ring you both have on your pinky finger. but, he didn’t stay for the burial. 

mikey sat on the bench by the river, sighing as he fished out the pack of cigarettes he bought earlier. he opened the lid, plucking one of them out before placing it on his lips. as he brought his lighter closer to the end of the cigarette, your voice echoed in his mind. 

“see, much better than cigarettes. but i was being serious, mikey, i don’t wanna see those near your lips or reach ever again. swear on my life?”

he took it out, placing it back in the package. mikey stood up, walking towards the garbage can before throwing out the pack of cigarettes. 

mikey decided that it was time to see you.

he reached your grave as you were buried in the nearest cemetary, easy for your sibling to visit you on the weekends. mikey sat in front of your tombstone, placing the cup of chocolate pudding on the ground. 

“felt like you wanted some.” he smiled, opening up his own as he took a scoop of the sweet treat in his mouth. 

“how did i do it, y/n? how did i live all those years without you? now that you’re gone, i feel suffocated. it feels like i’m falling in this bottomless pit with no one to save me.” mikey’s voice broke, tears stinging his vision as he bit his lips to conceal a choked out cry that itched to leave his throat. 

“you just have to find happiness again, mikey.” a soft voice spoke from behind him, the familiarity of the tone set chills all over his body. he turned around, eyes widening in shock as he couldn’t believe it. 

“y/n?” he called out, but it was barely a whisper. mikey knew that you were dead, and that perhaps he was going insane, but he didn’t care. 

you smiled at him, taking a seat in front of him as you grabbed the chocolate pudding he brought for you. 

“are you real?” mikey finally mustered up the courage to ask, making you chuckle as you grabbed his hand. your flesh was cold, making him intertwine his fingers with yours in an attempt to give you some of his warmth. 

“it’s time to let me go, mikey. you have to live, travel, start a family and just be happy; without me.” your eyes held so much sadness and depth, it no longer twinkled with hope like before, making his heart ache. 

“i can’t. i need you by my side, y/n. please, come back.” he begged, shaky hands coming up to cup your face. tears began to stream down his face as he softly cried, making you sigh as you pulled him in a hug. 

“do you remember our first meeting?” you asked, gently stroking his hair as he nodded. 

“i told you, there’s too much love in this world to be consumed by regret or grief. i’m not saying that you shouldn’t grieve, but you have to pick yourself up and continue with the rest of your life eventually. that’s what i want, mikey.” you spoke, making him look at you with glossy eyes. 

“if only i knew sooner, i would’ve done things so much more differently.” mikey sniffled, making you shake your head in disagreement. 

“that’s why i didn’t tell you. my condition would’ve consumed you and i didn’t want that. i didn’t die in vain, i died knowing that i had a loving family and person who loved me for who i am. i’m happy, mikey and it’s time that you find that happiness too.” you assured, kissing his forehead as small drops of rain began to fall. 

“i envisioned a happy life with you, with one or maybe two little kids running around our house. ken-chin and remi visiting us on christmas, road trips and so much more. i’ll wanted to marry you, y/n! you’re the only girl that i have ever loved, the one my heart belongs to.” mikey broke down, trembling as the rain drenched him. you couldn’t help but let a few of your own tears fall, watching the man that you love crumble to pieces. 

“then marry me, sano.” you looked at him with adoring eyes, making him shoot you a confused look. you took off the promise ring on your pinkie before handing it to him. he took off his as he placed it in your palms, eyes never leaving yours. 

he slid on the ring on your ring finger as you did the same to him. mikey gave you a soft smile before caressing your cheek.

“god, i love you so much.” mikey mumbled under his breath, leaning in for a kiss. you accepted it, and for some reason, your lips felt warm and soft. 

“i love you too, which is why i need you to live for me. i’ll always be here with you mikey, somewhere safe and sound.” you placed a hand over his heart, making him cry harder as he nodded. 

“okay. i’ll try, for you.” he offered you a broken smile, kissing your hands as you hummed. 

“goodbye, mikey.” you said, and it made his heart drop. 

“wait! don’t leave just yet! ple-”

but it was too late because now it was just him who sat alone by your grave. mikey saw that the pudding he got for you was gone, making him believe that the vision or ghost of you was in fact real. 

you came back to him, even if it was for a moment. 

mikey knew that he had to give his life a chance, a chance that you never got. which is why he promised to live to the fullest for you. 

---

big flashing lights nearly blinded the famous race car driver as he cleared his throat, waiting for the interviewer to bombard him with questions. 

“mr. sano! what a pleasure to have you here, thank you for joining us today.” the woman politely said, making mikey give her a small smile. 

“the pleasure’s all mine, thank you for having me.” mikey smoothly replied, making the crowd swoon. for a man that was pushing his mid-thirties, mikey looked amazing, without a doubt. his voice was crisp and honey-like, making it hard for people to resist him. 

not to mention the generous heart he has. 

the interview was pretty long, consisting of questions that made mikey talk about his childhood, goals and inspirations. until the burning question hit him like a truck. 

“mr. sano, you’ve got quite a fanbase.” the interviewer started off, being cut off by the loud squeals of mikey’s fangirls, making him chuckle. 

“we all want to know, are you single?” the question pondered in his head, but mikey knew the answer and didn’t hesitate. 

“i’m not, actually.” he revealed, making people gasp and scream from shock. 

“who’s the lucky girl if i may ask?” the interviewer continued to ask for further information. mikey smiled, thinking about the only woman that will ever own his heart. 

“my best friend, y/n. she’s my wife who unfortunately passed away a few years ago due to an inoperable brain tumor. she’s the love of my life and i miss her every day. i funded the research foundation for inoperable brain tumors in memory of her. she’s the biggest inspiration in my life and i hope she’s happy when she watches over me.” mikey spoke into the mic, making the crowd briefly go silent before a loud wave of claps echoed through the room. 

“you’re a great man, mr. sano, i’m sure your wife is very proud of you. she sounds like an amazing woman.” the interviewer offered a consoling smile. 

“she was. y/n was brilliant, she was smart and talented in almost every aspect. she’s my other half, which is why it made it hard for me to learn how to live without her after she passed away. but, she always told me how there was too much love in this world and i shouldn’t be consumed by grief. so, i picked myself back up and started something to give other people hope for a better tomorrow.” mikey explained, seeing how the audience was in tears from his heart-touching words. 

for a breif moment, mikey saw you amongst the crowd. his eyes widened, seeing you in a beautiful cherry sundress, similar to the one you wear every summer in high school. you were clapping and you blew him a kiss, to which he caught as his eyes teared. 

mikey knew that he would never stop falling in love with you and that he would let you break his heart over and over again. 

because his heart belong to you and only you. 

[bonny-kookoo]

OMGAJDSKKZMDAKX A LATE NIGHT SNACK?!?!?? Yesss plaseeee ninny

Aight aight but just a small unstable snack..

The moment you slip under the covers isn't as awkward as you thought it might be.

Sure, it's new- you're now sleeping together in a proper bed, but it's not as new as you thought it would feel. It's warm under the covers from his body already having been laying underneath for a bit, your naked legs finding his equally bare one's causing him to flinch a little.

"How are your feet this cold?" He grumbles, and you giggle, turning over to face him in the dark of the room. Only his eyes are faintly glowing, occasionally reflecting some light from the door like a cat.

"Its, I don't know?" You shrug. "A human thing. I think we females have cold feet and hands because you know, our body focuses most on reproductive organs? I think I read that somewhere at least." You rant, before yawning.

"Well, I care about more than that." He hums, legs pulling yours closer. "I'll warm you up." He says, and you nod, leaning a little closer to cuddle up to him.

Only when you look up again at him do you notice the faint glow of his irises showing that very distinctive shade of pink again.

"I'm not letting myself be interrupted again." He growls faintly under his breath, before he leans in to place a kiss to your lips, so sudden you get no time to prepare. And you don't need any anyways- because he seems to know exactly what to do, as he slowly moves to crawl over you, getting lost in that specific way of offering affection.

He's dizzy. He wants to keep kissing you.

You don't even realize how heated it becomes until his tongue seeks you out, one of his hands carefully roaming your body. You're so warm now, as his palm runs over your bare skin, before it sneaks beneath your baggy shirt, finding no underwear beneath to shield you from his touch.

And you don't want to be, either.

"Can I.. see you?" He wonders, and you nod, because what's there to lose? You like him. You'd even go as far as to say you love him.

"..but it's dark?" You wonder, as he slips your shirt over your head, eyes roaming you with a now very noticeable glow.

"You forget we're not the same." He chuckles. "I can see you just fine." He informs you, hands running over your exposed skin before he gropes at your chest, soft and warm in his palms. "You're so... delicate." He mumbles, hands moving to hold your hips. "Fragile."

"But you'll keep me safe?" You tell him, and at that his gaze snaps up at you, soft and warm, as he leans down to rest his forehead against yours.

"Of course." He answers. "Forever."