#but it felt fitting to write it like this

[kilojulietsierra]

Just In Case (Dr Jack Abbot x FemaleResident!Reader)

Summary: He had given Robby so much shit about Collins. "Really brother? One of your residents?" Then you had put in a request to move to the night shift and Robby had fucking signed off on it.

Warning: all my content is considered 18+ only, smut, age gap unspecified, reader is one of Jacks resident, fluff, smut, angst, happy ending, as always barely proofread or edited plz forgive me

A quick note: I know I promised this forever ago, but I'll be completely honest, this is NOT the story I started out to write! But holy fuck it took over with a mind of it's own and I really love the way it turned out so I hope y'll do too!! also, again, shout-out to the gif creater above because this one's still my fav

ENJOY!

~~~~~

He had given Robby so much shit about Collins. "Really brother? One of your residents?"

Then you had put in a request to move to the night shift and Robby had fucking signed off on it.

Jack liked you from the jump. Smart, witty, a little dark like he was and not afraid to jump into the chaos with no need to know how deep. You had fit right in on his shift and for a long time you were just his best resident. His BEST, fucking resident, because God you were good. Every trauma, every code, every shitty shift you were right there doing the work and it was clear you loved all of it.

Jack had asked Robby one morning, "So, what's the deal? Why'd you let her go? You usually like to keep the star pupils to yourself."

Robby had just made that face at him, that annoying one with the shrug. "Thought I'd make her your problem for awhile."

Then the next night Jack had to split up you and the R4 in the middle of the hub. "What in the actual fuck are you two doing?" His presence had been enough to put some distance between the both of you, but you were pissed and the R4 was not letting it go.

"She walked all over my case."

"Because you were fucking it up! That girl did not have time to wait, and I told you that three times."

"And I told you to stay in your lane, I'm your senior resident."

"You are a dipshit, that was going to kill that girl by lack of action."

"Enough." Jack didn't yell. He didn't need to. He stood, hands clasped behind his back, face hard and waited.

"Dr. Abbot, she has authority issues, and it's interfering with her patient care and everyone elses."

"I don't have an issue with authority," If looks could kill the R4 would have dropped dead. Then you turned that look on him and it didn't have the venom in it, but the fight was there, that unwavering confidence, "I have a problem with misplaced authority."

Jack had held your gaze as you'd said it then nodded. He'd sent you both on your separate ways and excused himself to the bathroom where he took a leak and then stood with his hands braced on the sink as he stared himself down in the mirror. "What the fuck?" He whispered to himself as he rocked side to side and shook his head at his own reflection. He should've been annoyed at you two, not himself, but something about that look you had given him. It was like it had flipped some sort of switch. Like suddenly you weren't just his best resident, you were also…

The bathroom door swung open, "Dr. Abbot, we have a code blue coming in, ETA 5 minutes."

He nodded, "Set up trauma two."

Every shift after that he caught himself thinking things he should not be thinking about his resident. Yes you were his best resident, talented and dedicated, but you were also gorgeous. Not that he had never noticed, but now it was something he couldn't help but pay attention to. In between patients, when you passed by him or stood a little too close, he felt his pulse quicken. He couldn't help but watch you a little closer, the way you were so soft and calm with nervous patients, the way you didn't take shit from the combative ones. The confidence you had in your abilities and the drive you had to be better.

Your eyes. Those beautiful fucking eyes that never shied away from him. Your smile. Not big and bright or soft or sweet. No, the one that drove him fucking crazy? That was the tiny one, the barely there tick of your lips, up to one side before you could fight it back. That one was his favorite, because it felt like he had to earn that one. Like he had done something, just enough, to get you to crack. Like there was something you were trying to keep to yourself and if he said the right thing, did the right thing, you'd show him what it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long night. A long week. Jack had gone up for some air and some quiet. He had his back leaned against the railing and hands in his pockets, eyes trained on the horizon.

The access door opened and he furrowed his brow. Robby wasn't working today.

When he looked over his shoulder the last person he had expected to see was you, just standing there with one of your easy smiles. "Need me, you could have called."

You just shrugged as you came closer. "Don't need anything, Day shift is trickling in." You came to lean next to him. Close enough to touch. "You good boss?"

Jack glanced sideways at you. Your hair was falling down, eyes tired, smile careful. He had to fight the urge to lean towards you, close that distance just to touch, even if it was just your shoulder against his. He shook his head, "Just one of those nights. You good?"

You nodded, leaned over the railing carefully to look down, "Do you actually think about it? When you come up here or is it just... a thing you do?"

He's not sure he would have been more surpised if you had slapped him. He looked at you long and hard. When you didn't flinch, didn't shy away, he shrugged. "Depends on the day." Jack cracks a little smirk for you, to ease the tension.

You smile back at him, unphased, as you stood up a little straighter. His eyes track your every move as you lean across the railing.

Jack had been wrong when he thought he couldn't be more surprised if you'd slapped him. Becuase the last thing he would have ever expected was that you would lean across the railing and kiss him.

It wasn't anything crazy. A quick brush of your lips over his. Not long enough. When you didn't pull back all the way he watched you close. Studied you. "Just in case." You shrugged as you finally stepped back.

You were about to turn and leave when he asked, "In case what?"

You gave him another smile, this time with something in your eyes that you didn't try to hide from him as the sun crept up over the skyline. "In case tonight was one of those nights."

It wasn't. It was one of those nights, but not one of THOSE nights. Jack liked that it hadn't been some big thing. Quick and light. He liked that you hadn't hesitated. He liked that if it had been one of those nights, you thought a kiss would have changed something. It changed everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know, the park beers is really more of a day shift thing."

You turned to the side and inwardly scolded yourself for not hearing him approach. "No beer." You shrugged but didn't offer up anything else.

Jack took another step closer, "Thinkin' about that kid?" He shrugged his backpack up higher and waited for your response.

You looked him over and even after the night you'd had, you had to fight back a smile because he looked good. This was your favorite version of Dr. Jack Abbot. Cargo pants, hair a mess and he'd pulled his scrub top off at some point and had worked the last couple hours in just atight, black t-shirt. You took a deep breath, "You goin' to tell me I did everything I could?"

He shook his head, "You already know that."

You nodded, "Yep."

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride home."

"Why?" You looked up at him, skeptical.

The grin he gave you washed all that away, "Just in case."

You thought maybe it would be awkward, letting Jack drive you home after what you'd done on the roof four shifts ago. It wasn't. Then when he had pulled up in front of your building, you thought for sure it would be awkward, but it wasn't. He just put the truck in park and tipped his head to catch your eye, "Go get some sleep okay." When you didn't move right away, he gave you a little nod, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You felt sick to your stomach suddenly, like you had been very wrong. "Jack…If I…"

He draped his wrist over the steering wheel and his eyes were soft, "Tomorrows a new day."

"Get that from Robby?" you tried to swallow down the bile in your throat, force a smile.

Jack shrugged, gave you a smirk. "Maybe. I mean it, get some sleep."

You had started to climb out of the truck, but your hand paused on the handle. You were always something of a go big or go home kind of girl. So, you turned back, leaned across the console and didn't give yourself or Jack the chance to think twice. You kissed him again. More than a quick peck this time and the air rushed out of your lungs when his lips moved with yours, slow and steady.

You were about to pull back when you felt the hand that had been draped over the steering wheel cradle the back of your head and keep you there.

When Jack did eventually let you pull away his eyes locked onto yours. "What was that for?"

You whispered, scared to get your hopes up, "Just in case I don't get another chance."

He dropped his head back against the headrest and held your gaze, "If I promise you'll get another chance, will you go upstairs and get some rest?" When you nodded he cracked a little smile, "I'll see you tomorrow."

~~~~~~

Giving you a ride home became a thing, not after every shift but more and more.

It felt like you both just craved that little bit of time alone, together. It wasn't even something seedy or scandalous, he would just... drive you home.

Sometimes you'd kiss him, sometimes he'd reach out for your hand and hold it the whole way to your apartment. At some point it turned into drive thru coffee. He didn't just pull up out front anymore, he'd park in a spot and you would talk.

Jack told you about his wife first. The broken part of him figured; get the rough stuff out of the way first. If you were going to change your mind that would do it, and he'd rather deal with it sooner than later. He told you and you had just held his hand, your thumb working circles over his palm with tears in your eyes. "I don't have the words Jack, God I wish I did..."

He didn't need you to have the words. The look in your eyes unwavering and the grip on his hand was enough. He had just shaken his head, throat still hoarse and had lifted the back of your hands to his lips. That was enough.

He told you about his leg. You never flinched once and this time it was him that stroked his thumb over your palm. Back and forth, where they rested together on the console. You had just leaned forward, held his gaze and told him it made him more of a man.

He told you about his PTSD, explained his little visits to the roof, told you about his therapist. You said you were proud of him, and leaned over to kiss him and steal the last bagel bite out of his lap. Jack had grinned, watched the way your face lit up to see it, even if your eyes were a little misty. "I want to tell him about you..." Jack waited, watched you like his life depended on it. Because, even then he knew this couldn't be casual, not for him, and if it was real he was going to do it right.

You had laughed and he panicked for half a second before you leaned in to kiss him again. "You mean, we've been working together this long and you haven't already complained about me to your therapist?"

He laughed, and God it felt like a gulp of air. He sank his hand into your hair and slammed your mouth to his. Kissed you like you'd never been kissed before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning you had whispered, "Come upstairs?" He'd thought he might combust then and there. He had searched your eyes. Those gorgeous fucking eyes that never wavered under his. He'd never forget the pretty way you bit your lip, or the way your eyes flashed with something he hadn't seen yet when he gave you one more quick kiss and turned off his truck.

Any lingering thought or rationalization that you could be something casual went out the fucking window the moment you let him press you up against the inside of your apartment door and kiss you the way he'd been wanting to for months.

The way you gasped and moaned so pretty for him when he pinned your wrists over your head with one hand and slipped the other inside your scrub pants. "Jesus Christ sweetheart..." He murmured into your ear when he felt how hot and wet you were for him.

"Jack," Your eyes fluttered closed as he eased the first, thick finger inside you, "Shit." You fidgeted, tried to chase his hand with your hips, but you didn't fight his hold on your wrists or the way he pressed you into the hard surface. You groaned, showed your teeth in something between a smile and a snarl as he gave you a second finger, but did not change his rythym.

He kept his strokes slow, steady, deep. Kissed every part of you he could reach at this angle. Your neck, the hollow of your throat the shell of your ear, before always returning to your mouth. "Feel good?"

You nodded, frantic, gave him an airy, 'Mhmm."

"Yeah?" He mouthed at the soft spot just below your ear as he finally sped up his movements and felt the way your pussy quivered and clenched around his fingers. Jack smiled as he moved up to rest his forhead against yours, "Yeah..." He answered himself as he studied your face, felt the warm puffs of air as you panted and gasped, his palm resting over your clit as he drove his fingers deeper.

"Oh shit, shit," Your words cut off with a groan as he pressed against the little bundle of nerves harder.

"Yeah?" He licked his lips and fought back a smirk as he kissed you softly, pulled his fingers out and circled them over your clit. Firmer, faster. "Going to cum for me already, aren't you sweetheart?"

"Yeah." You chased after his kiss like you needed it to breathe, your weight sinking into his hand begging for more.

Eyes locked on yours, foreheads together he gave you a little nod, "Yeah, go ahead," He sped up the circling of his fingers until both of you were breathing heavy, "Go ahead, sweetheart, go ahead."

When your eyes fluttered and rolled back Jack didn't stop, only pressed you harder into the door and kissed you in the most unholy way as you came apart for him.

Slowly as you can back down he eased off the pressure of his fingers, slipped them back inside of you and relished in the little convulsions he felt as he gave you long, slow, steady strokes. He teased at your lips, kissing and nipping until you giggled and he finally released your hands from above your head. "Good girl." He whispered as he gave you a final kiss and pulled back.

The look in your eyes told him this probably couldn't be casual for you either.

You laughed when he ducked, lifted you up by the thighs and carried you towards your bedroom.

"Don't laugh, I'm not that old." He chuckled with you into the hollow of your throat. A chuckle that turned into a groan when you carded your fingers into his already messy curls and tugged.

He had laid you down on the bed and stripped you naked as fast as possible. Desperate to get his hands, his mouth on every inch of you until you whined his name and fisted your hand in the back of his scrub top.

Jack smiled against your hip, "What?"

"Off."

"What?" He asked again as he sucked a little bruise into the smooth skin before him.

You groaned, half annoyed and half giddy, and shoved at him until he looked you in the eyes, "Take your fucking shirt off."

He chuckled, gave you a grin and rose up to his knees so he could reach behind him and pull his scrub top and undershirt off in one go. Jack couldn't help but take that half a second, to watch you hum happily and chew on your lip, to let it stroke his ego, before he buried his face between your legs.

~~~~~~

He had put it off as long as he could, shoved the thought aside and focused all of his attention on you. But, eventually, you had pulled and clawed at him until he crawled over you to cover your body with his and kiss you properly again. Jack let you take some of his weight as he kissed you, soaked in the warmth and the feel of you under him.

He knew he'd have to take his pants off, that the prosthesis would be some sort of jarring reminder and this would all be over.

He focused on your hands and how fucking good if felt as you stroked up the muscles of his back, hooked your fingers over his shoulders and pulled him closer. The way your fingertips skimmed over his arms, squeezing his biceps and smiling under his kisses like you enjoyed the way he felt. It had almost been involuntary. The jerk of his hips when you had skated your nails low over his sides, too low, too close to the waistband of his boxers where the band peeked up over the top of his pants. The way he had rolled his hips against yours and gave you a hint of just how badly he wanted you.

You made that happy little humming sound again and stroked your hands up over his back and down again. FIngertips leaving little divots under them as they moved. "Jack," Your voice was soft, airy and tight, "Am I gonna have to tell you to take your pants off too?" You fought for his eye contact and for the first time he couldn't give it to you.

Jack buried his face in your neck and kissed over your pulse, whispered his answer there instead, "Sweetheart," He breathed deep and Jesus you smelled like sex and sweat and soap and everything good in this world. "Only way this really works, is if I take the leg off." He waited. Expected the worst.

When you tugged on his hair he caved, lifted his head and looked you in the eye. You held his gaze and opened your eyes wide like you were about to make a point and wanted it to land, "Then take the fucking leg off," You cracked a smile, "Or I'm going to do it, and I have no clue how it works so..."

Jack fucking loved you. He knew he loved you, because he had said the first thing that came to mind, "Want me to show you?" With a chuckle and a nod you kissed him and with no hesitation answered, "Yeah, kinda."

So, as awkward and unsexy as it was, he showed you.

He showed you how the mechanism worked, grinned at you and shook his head as you tried to pull it off the first time. He'd turned an embarrassing shade of pink when he'd warned you, "It's not going to smell good. You know that right?"

You had scoffed, rolled your eyes at him. "I'm a doctor. I'm sure I can handle it."

Jack couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this hard. Especially not in bed, with a sexy, young woman, where ten minutes ago the only thing on his mind had been fucking your brains out. Now, you were collapsed on his chest and cackling uncontrollably with his prosthetic leg in one hand dangling off the side of the bed. All he could do was cradle the back of your head and try to catch his breath, because even as you were laughing, you were peppering kisses over his chest and he swore that if this didn't scare you away he would never let you go.

When you caught your breath and sat up, you set his prosthesis down by the nightstand and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. "Now, take your pants off."

His eyes followed you as you crawled off the bed and walked naked to the bathroom. He tried to fight down the nerves as he did shuck his other shoe, sock and his scrub pants off, then pushed himself up to lean against your headboard. He listened to a cupboard open and close, water run. When you reentered the room and tossed a bath towel on the bed and crawled back to him with a warm, soapy rag in your hand he furrowed his brow.

"I fucking dare you to make one sponge bath joke. I swear to God." You didn't hesitate as you knelt in front of him and began to run the rag over what remained of his lower leg. Your fingers massaging the aching muscles as you went.

All Jack could do was shake his head side to side as he let his eyes fall closed and his body sink deeper into your pillows.

~~~~~

Jack hadn't meant to zone out, but Christ it had felt too good. Your soft, capable hands working over the tension in his leg after a long shift. The relief it brought, physical and mental, was unbelievable. He barely noticed you had stopped until you had moved to straddle his lap and kiss up the side of his neck.

"Fall asleep on me?"

He chuckled, "Almost." and wrapped his arms around your waist to drag you closer.

"Feel good?" You copied his question from earlier, whispered it against throat.

"Too fucking good." His cock had softened some from the relaxation, but when he pulled you down to settle against him fully he could feel himself harden by the second. "You're too fucking good for me." He caressed from your knees, over your thighs, up your waist and ribcage, until his fingers traced over the line of your arms where they had wrapped around his neck.

"Don't say that." You kissed him, deep, and rolled your hips over him. Whined a little that his boxer briefs still kept you seperated from what you both wanted. The whine turned into a squeal as he flipped you over without warning, Put you on your back like you had started.

Jack hovered over you braced on strong arms. "You still want this?" He rocked his hips into yours and searched your eyes. He could see that you knew what he meant. Not just this, not just the moment, not just sex. Him. HIs past, his baggage, all the complications that a relationship with your attending would bring.

"Yes. All of it." You looked him in the eye and smiled. Cute and sweet. Drastically at odds with the way your hands were shoving his underwear down over his hips.

Then he watched those pretty eyes roll back in your head, because he wasn't going to waste another second not knowing what it felt like to be inside you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack had panicked the first time he'd said he loved you.

He'd thought it from the start, but it had always felt to soon, too real, too say it out loud. To risk it.

Then he had woken up late one afternoon, after a restless few hours of sleep and you weren't in bed beside him. His mind, already primed for the worst case scenario after a long week, worried that you'd finally had enough. That he'd scared you away and you'd snuck off while he was asleep but, then he'd found you in the kitchen.

He paused at the corner and breathed deep as he watched you. Your back turned to him, in some t-shirt of his you'd dug out of a drawer to sleep in, hair tosseled from sleep. You were glaring at the coffee maker, arms crossed and swaying side to side, as if you could force the machine into expedience. He could feel the anxiety seep out of him as he watched you. Made his way to you.

"Where are your crutches?" Was how you greeted him, your voice rough and exhausted like him.

Jack just slid his arms around you waist and kissed the back of your head. Relished the feel of you sinking more of your weight back into him. "Bedroom." He shifted to place a kiss closer to your neck.

"Ja-ack"

"Wha-at?" He copied your tone and squeezed you tighter. He liked that you worried. With one hand he swept your hair to the side so he could kiss your neck and chuckled against it when you groaned. Annoyed, not aroused. "Been gettin' around just fine for over a decade baby."

You had grumbled, rolled your eyes, but leaned into him and smoothed your hands over his forearms, your thumbs traced the furrows in the muscle. "I know."

The coffee maker beeped, but you made no move to reach for a cup. Jack liked that you worried. He liked that you took up space in his home, in his life. He liked that you'd taken over half his bathroom, that his sheets smelled like you, that your car had a spot in his garage. He liked that you'd started teasing him about trying to get out of your lease as much time as you spent at his house. Hell, he'd pay off your fucking lease if it meant he could have you here, with him, all the time.

He wrapped his arms around you impossibly tighter and squeezed, smiled at the content little hum you let you and the way your head dropped back against his shoulder. His lips pressed against your temple, barely a kiss, "I love you."

There was no shocked expression on your face, no teary eyes, or fumbling words. Just that little smile, that ticked up in one corner, the one that he'd loved from the start. "I've been patiently waiting, but you were starting to make me nervous." You stood up and turned around in his arms. Smile wider as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your eyes flickered when he tightened his grip on your waist again. Locked you against him, arms flexing the way you always liked. Your lips brushed his briefly and then you pulled back to look him in the eye, "I love you too."

Saying it, finally, felt amazing. Like a weight off of his chest.

Hearing you say it, knowing that you meant it... felt like CPR, something bringing a piece of him back to life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you had mismatched shifts all week because you had covered some days for Cassie while she had court. So, if you saw eachother it was only in passing, at home or at the hospital. This would be your last shift on days before a weekend off and you would be back on nights, with Jack. Where you belonged.

Jack caught a glimpse of you as he walked in, but continued towards the hub where Robby was already packing up his bag like he was in a hurry.

"Hey brother, sorry but I got a thing, I got to run." Robby picked up his bag and met Jack at the corner of the station. "Your girl is goin' to do the handoff." He gave his friend a smug look as he held his fist out.

Jack scoffed, gave Robby the first bump, but gave him a shove with it. "Don't do that, and don't act like I don't know what your 'thing' is." Jack stared him down, "Let me know how it goes."

Robby nodded, "Yeah, I will. Have a good night man."

Lena and Dana looked up at Jack in unison as he dropped his bag into the chair and together they said, "She's in fifteen."

Jack scowled at the two of them, "Why are you all like this?"

Lena just chuckled and ducked out to get to work. Dana grabbed her jacket and wrapped her hand around Jacks arm, "Just a heads up, someone, I won't name names, has been hounding her all day. Playin' twenty questions about Dr. Abbot, so… she might be a little salty."

With a deep breath he shook his head and draped his stethoscope around his neck.

Dana chuckled, "She doesn't know… so, it's harmless. Just watch your step with your girl. she's had a long one." She grabbed her bag and paused as she moved to step around him, "For what it's worth, the sooner you start wearing a wedding around here again the better for all of us I think." She gave him a wink.

Jack leaned down just enough they were eye to eye. "Dana… go home."

She gave him a smile and a wink, smiled a little wider when his scowl cracked, "Fifteen."

Which is exactly where he found you, right outside the room typing on one of the portable stations.

Work had always been work and honestly he loved you even more for that, because there was something sexy about the fact that you had the self control to keep home and work seperate. Most of the time. You were still his best resident, by far, and now his senior resident. It was fun for him to see you thrive with that responsibility. It was also fun for him to occasionally toe that line, get that little rise out of you that he'd pay for later.

Today, he felt like pushing that boundary. So, he took a quick glance around before he stepped up close, bumped your shoulder with his and tipped his head to whisper.

"Think carefully about what you're about to say, Dr. Abbot."

He bit back a smirk, definitly feisty tonight. "Ready to come back to nights?" He leaned a little closer than necessary and dropped his voice, "Where you belong."

You continued to type, never even looked at him, "What's it worth to you?"

"How about you finish up here, go get some rest, and I'll show you when I get home?"

That got you a little, he could tell by the way you bit the inside of your cheek and a little color appeared on your neck.

Jack bumped your shoulder with his again as he turned to leave, "Come on," His voice back to normal, "GIve me the rundown so we can get you out of here."

~~~~~

When he got home he heard his police scanner going and smirked to himself. You had given him shit about it at first, but now you used it like a white noise machine.

He moved quietly through the house until he found you asleep on the couch in the living room in your comfy clothes. Jack knew that meant you had tried to stay up as late as possible, get your sleep schedule back on track. He leaned his right knee on the couch next to you and braced his hands on either side of you, one against the back of the couch the other on the cushion. Carefully he leaned in and kissed your cheek, "Hey sweetheart." Something in him loved that you didn't flinch, didn't jump awake, only grumbled slightly and then smirked as you awoke.

"Hey." Your voice was raspy with sleep and Jack couldn't help but move to kiss the side of your neck. You hummed and shifted to your back as you cracked your eyes open, "How was your night?"

Lips never leaving your neck he gave a simple answer, "Fine." His kisses moved, higher up towards the hinge of your jaw, "Ready to have my best girl back."

You chuckled, stretched under him and let your head roll to one side to give him more access, "Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm." his kisses became more and more involved, mouthing and sucking at your neck until he left a mark.

Wide awake under his attentions your eyes focused, "Ugh, no fair."

Jack chuckled as he pushed himself up, hovering over you at arms length. "What's not fair?"

Shifting to get comfortable you pouted, unconciously letting your legs fall open for him, as you tugged at the front of his tight, dark t-shirt. "I missed a sexy Dr Abbot night."

He couldn't help the wide smile as he shook his head, still not fully comprehending what it was about wearing cargo pants and a Tshirt instead of scrubs that did it for you. Jack was, however, man enough to admit that you liking it did something for him. "Sexy Dr Abbot night huh?" He shifted his weight, hIs left hand settling on the strip of skin that appeared just above your waistband as your shirt rode up.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, tugged on the shirt again, "Mhmm."

Jack caved, still smiling as he moved to lay down over the top of you, his smile widening as your hands moved under the t-shirt and stroked over his back, "Did you miss your sexy Dr. Abbot?" He teased as he kissed you, slipped his knee between your legs and pressed it against your core as he settled into you.

A little groan escaped between chuckles as your fingers dug into the muscles of his back, on either side of his spine. "Stop it."

"You're the one that said it." Jack chuckled with you as he shifted his weight slightly, drug his right hand the length of your body. From your throat, over a breast where he paused for a moment, palming it through your shirt in time with the way his tongue slid against yours. Then your hips began to move, of their own accord, grinding against his thigh ellictiing a moan, your lips separating from his as you threw your head back.

"Mhmm," Jack murmerd into your exposed throat, "Sure seems like you missed me." He smiled against your pulse as your hands scrambled with the bottom of his shirt. He let you drag it up over his head and then before you could pull him back into a kiss he peeled your bottoms off. Taking his time to toss them aside and then slowly caress his way from the arch of your foot, over the back of your knee and higher. "God you are gorgeous." His grip on you changed, hardened as he moved back over you. "Tell me you missed me baby." He mumbled into your mouth, groaning as he felt your hands move to unbotton his pants.

"You know I did." You smiled, nipped his top lip and watched him as your fingers wrapped around his cock.

"Oh, fuck..." His forehead dropped to yours, eyes closed and breath coming out in warm pants. "Fuck." He repeated as you stroked him, hand firm and confident, from base to tip and back. The muscles in his arms bulged and flexed as he held himself over you, fists clenching and unchlenching against the couch cushion as his cock hardened to your touch. "Baby..."

"What did you say earlier? Something you were going to show me?" You giggled, closed the short distance to brush your lips over his.

Jack smiled, ducked his head to kiss you properly and moved your hand aside so he could shove his pants and boxers down. Just far enough for him to enter you without preamble. Guiding his now achingly hard cock where it belonged. "God you feel too good sweetheart." He breathed the words into your mouth as he bottomed out, lowered the rest of his weight into you. "Too good."

Your whole body trembled underneath him as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck and keep him as close as possible. You dug your fingers into his hair, into the muscles of his shoulders and back, your legs wrapped around his hips as they moved against yours. "Jack..."

"Yeah baby?" Jack asked as he dropped a hand to your thigh, thick fingers digging into your flesh as he held you closer, fucked you just a little harder. "What's wrong?"

You let out a half chuckle half groan, your nails digging into the back of his shoulder blade, "Absolutely nothing." Your chuckle turned into something like a breathy giggle as he rewarded you with a particularly deep thrust. "Just, shit," you writhed under him as he moved the hand at your thigh between your bodies. His thumb working slow, teasing circles over your clit in time with his thrusts. "Just, you don't wanna take your prostthetic off?"

He smirked against your clavicle as he mouthed his way across to the opposite side of your neck. "Don't need to be comfortable right now baby," He picked up his pace, his thrusts and his thumb over your clit, moved harder, faster, "I need to feel you cum for me." Jack wasn't taking it slow after that, and the sounds you were making for him only motivated him to fuck you harder, faster, like he hadn't had you in a month not just a week. "So be a good girl and cum for me," The hand not playing with you slid under the back of your neck, grabbing it from behind, cradling you and applying pressure in a way that had your eyes rolling back and your back arching up off the couch. Lips against your ear, his own breathing ragged, "Need to feel it baby."

"So close, i'm so close, please, shit, Jack, I'm so close." You scrambled, tried everything in your power to drag him into you.

Jack just grinned, "I know, I know." He dropped a kiss against the shell of your ear, "Trust me," His voice was strained but his tone still steady, still soft and clinging to control. "You know I'm gonna take care of you baby, you know." When you nodded enthustically his grin widened, "Take a deep breath." When you didn't respond, he slowed his thrusts down, short and shallow, and when you whined, jack repeated himself, "Breathe. Relax and breathe."

As soon as you shuddered underneath him and took a long, deep breath, eyes slipping closed as you tried to do as he said, Jack whispered, "Good girl." HIs thumb stroked up the line of your carotid once and then settled over it, applied the perfect amount of pressure that made your head swim.

"Oh fuck...." Your mouth hung open and you moaned out his name.

Slowly Jack picked up his pace again, "Another deep breath baby."

You sucked in the air through your nose and moaned because you knew what came next. Because there was a timer running in Jacks head from the moment his thumb pressed down, and once that timer started there was no more teasing or playing, only fucking you as hard and as fast as he could. The whole time murmering every dirty thought that had ever crossed his mind. How you were his good girl, his best girl, all the depraved things he wanted to do to you, how you took his cock so well, and felt so fucking good. How you moaned his name so pretty, how he wanted to fucking ruin you, fill you up and never let you go.

When that timer in his head hit zero, he'd lift his thumb, let the blood rush back to your head and drive his cock into you as hard and as fast as he could, rubbing your clit furiously until you would shatter.

Your nails would dig into his back and you'd gasp for air, and for more. Then he'd snap, his ears would ring with your highpitched whines and his back would ache and he would empty himself inside of you. His hips never stopping until his vision cleared and he could feel the scratch of your fingertips through his hair, the hammering of your heart against his own.

"Jesus Christ," You whispered it, a sexy, satisfied giggle behind it, "I still don't understand how..." You paused for a deep breath and your pussy shuddered around him, "It happens so fast when you do that." You smile as he mouths at the side of your neck.

"Which is why," He tips your face to his so he can kiss you properly before he manhandles you around, swapping places with you so he's on his back and your draped over top of him, "I only do it when I know i'm not going to fucking last." He laughs at himself, drags you down into a vulgar kiss as he reached down to shift your hips and settle you properly. His softening dick still inside you and mess between you.

Jack laid there for a moment and closed his eyes, listened to you breathing slow to match his, a wave of comfort washed over him as he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. You settled into his grasp and hummed, a happy little sound in the back of your throat as you curled around him. Both of you half naked and spent on his living room couch. He smiled, kissed the top of your head, nowhere else he'd rather be in in that moment than right there.

~~~~~~~

His fingertips stroked slowly over your back, under your shirt, when you break the post-coital silence. "Can we talk about something?"

Swallowing down the fear rapidly rising in his throat Jack nods and kisses the top of your head, "What's up?"

"My residency is almost over."

He nods, lays the hand flat and wide over the small of your back like his subconcious is trying to keep you where he felt you belonged. "Thought about what you're going to do?"

"That's sort of what I want to talk to you about." You sit up and the both of you make a face at the way your bodies shifted together. You watch as Jack settles a hand on your thigh and you reach for the other. You take his hand in both of yours and started to massage away the stiffness you knew would be there after a long shift. "There's no guarantee I get the open attending spot here, and if I don't… I just… I guess I just want to know what you think I should do."

Jack took a deep breath and studied your face intently, held your gaze. "I'm hesitant to tell you what I think because, I don't think I can be impartial, not really. I want you to make the best decision for yourself and not let me… being selfish… affect your decision."

That made you take a moment, consider as you watched him. Your thumbs still moved in soothing circles over the knuckles and palm of his hand. "I'm not asking you to be impartial. I'm asking you, someone whose opinion matters to me deeply, to discuss a very important decision I might have to make."

It hits him in the gut to hear you say that, because he knows what he wants. He knows he could tell you. He doesn't know with certainty what you want though. "Okay, well, as your attending. You are an incredibly talented and valuable emergency physician and there's plenty of hospitals that would fight to have you. I think we would be idiots to not fight to keep you here, because you are good, you're steady and fast and you're a leader, but also because we have poured a shit ton of time and resources into developing you. It would be irresponsible to let you go, but you could go anywhere you wanted and be extremely successful."

You had to fight back tears at his praise and he must have seen it because Jack stroked his hand over your thigh with a little extra pressure and a tight grin.

"As the man that loves you…because God I fucking love you and I love working with you, but either way that's going to change soon, I want you here with me. Even if that means something other than the Pitt. And… I acknowledge, as much as it sucks, that might not be what's best for you, or even be what you want."

You're chewing on your lip hard, trying to keep your own emotions in check. You love Jack, but he is also your mentor and you value his opinion and he is honestly the only one you could imagine having this conversation with. "I don't want to go anywhere else, I want to stay where I am… I'm just terrified I … What if I put in for the open spot at PTMC and don't get it?"

Jack gives you the most encouraging smile he can without giving himself away and moves to sit up. Taking you with him as he twists around to sit on the couch properly and wrap his arms around you. "Sweetheart that's fine, if you don't work for us you'll go somewhere else. There's six trauma centers in Pittsburgh, there's 52 in the state. Hell there's over 200 level ones in the country and baby you could run any of them. I know you could." He fidgets for a moment and seems to look everywhere but you before he can get locked in. He looks you in the eye, "If you want my opinion you could go anywhere, but I want you here. I just don't want to be the reason you settle for less."

Your breath caught in your throat, "Jack…"

He can't help the thought that he's going to have to talk to his therapist about the look on your face, the weight in his chest as he sits with you on his lap, dick still just a little hard inside you, the mess you made together sticky between you and every fiber of his being is fighting the urge to beg you to stay because he needs you.

"On what planet is being here with you considered less? Don't say that." You kiss him hard, then pull back, "If I apply for the slot… they're going to look sideways at both of us."

"Let 'em. Baby, that's goin' to come down on me not you."

You scoff, "We both know it doesn't work that way. If they want to raise hell about me being in a relationship with my attending that shit could follow me."

Jack hates that that's true, even if it happens in every fucking teaching hospital in the country. "To be fair, I'm tenured and I make enough for both of us. Worse comes to worse. Fuck 'em."

"Not helpful." You smack him on the chest, but chuckle despite the tension.

He shrugs, "There's ways to go about it, so maybe we haven't made it obvious, but not like we've been keeping it a state secret either, and it's not some abuse of power, hasn't affected either of our performance. I'm still going to be with you when you're an attending, or hell, when you're the chief for that matter. If i'm still around that long. Honestly… if you want to be shady about it between me and Shen, Robby is the chief, I'm willing to bet we can rig it in your favor."

"Also not helpful!" You kiss him though, "I do find it oddly attractive that you're so willing to bend the rules though."

"I know you do." He kissed you back. "Promise to play by the rules for a change."

You smile, "So, what If I told you I wanted to stay here after my residency? What if I want the attending spot at the Pitt and to stay with you?"

Jack shook his head, squeezed you tighter, "Don't ask me baby, tell me. Is that what you want?"

"I want you. If I can have you and the Pitt, perfect. If not, I'd work anywhere if it means we are together." You kiss him again, trying to get your point across, "That doesn't feel like settling to me Jack. Not even close."

How he felt in that moment was something he couldn't name, because no matter how ecstatic it makes him to hear you say you want him a piece of him is drowning in the guilt that you could be giving up something so much better.

You run your hands over his bare chest, his shoulders and then slide them up the side of his neck to hold him in place. "Is that… Is that okay?"

Like so many times before Jack shoves that doubt aside and figures, fuck it. He thinks about that first fleeting kiss on the roof, the one in his truck, all the rides home, the coffee and conversations, the morning you had asked him to come upstairs. All the times you were the one that took that leap of faith, because he couldn't. He'd been trying not to jump for years.

He kissed you, long and slow as he thinks and then whispers against your lips. "Sweetheart," He kisses you again, "Do me a favor and go grab my bag?"

You look confused, rightfully so, but smirk and duck your head to nip at the meat of one of his pecs. "You know, I'm not supposed to be able to walk after you fuck me like that."

Jack groans and feels fucking ancient, but can't help the need to swat you on the ass and give you a little push, "Love to watch you try though."

Because, yeah, you are still a little unsteady and you both trembled as you had raised up and his semi hard dick had slipped out of you. He watched you walk out of the living room and tucked himself back into his boxers before he did up the fly of his pants. The conversation you were about to have was one he couldn't have with his dick inside you, no matter how good it felt.

When you came back his eyes drank you in, shirt askew and hair a mess, a sheen between your legs that made the blood in his veins rush south again.

"Here you go." You hold out the camo backpack as you round the end of the couch.

"Need you to grab something for me, out of the liner pocket on the inside." He smirked at the way you arch your brow at him, but still come back to sit on his lap. He holds his breath as you set the bag on the couch next to you and pulled at the zipper. Jack had to try not to stare at the patch velcroed to the front. Abbot. He lets his hands settle on your thighs while he waits, thumb stroking over your femoral artery.

"What exactly am I…"

"You'll know." He cuts you off.

You stop.

He feels your heart rate skyrocket under his thumb, every muscle in your body goes rigid and he watches as your eyes blink rapidly like you're trying to clear your vision. "That's what I want sweetheart."

Your eyes are the only part of you that moves. They jump from what you found in the pocket, to his face and back. "How long have you had this?" Because what you're holding, it's not something bought on a whim.

Jack can't help but laugh at himself, "Awhile." Is all he'll tell you right now. He fights for your eye contact, but for one of the only times he can remember, it's like you can't quite hold it. Your eyes keep flicking to him and away again.

"Why?"

"Just in case."

You look at him then, really look at him, and don't look away. Give him that eye contact he craves and he sucks in air like he can breath again, head above water for just a moment. You smirk at hearing him repeat your own words back to you from so long ago. Your voice shakes, "Just in case what?"

He smirks right back at you as he moves the backpack out of the way with one hand and then holds it out, palm up. You carefully put what you had found in his hand, unopened, because the simple presence of the small, shiny, sleek, perfectly square, black box had told you everything you needed to know. Jack makes sure to brush your fingers with his as he takes the box from you and pops it open. "Just in case you ever decided to go back to dayshift, thought I might have to bribe you."

You choke out a laugh and Jack smiles, but his throat is dry and the way you look like you're about to cry really isn't helping.

He repeats himself as he pulls out the ring, rolls it carefully between his thumb and forefiner, "This is what I want sweetheart. Then he chokes out a laugh of his own, "I don't give a shit where you work baby, wherever you want. Only thing I give a fuck about is that they call you Dr. Abbot." He cracks a smile when you laugh with him and he can feel you relax, your weight sinking into him as you lean in to kiss him. Clumsy and sloppy and with a smile.

"You're fucking ego sometimes."

"You can hyphenate if you want."

"Oh, I can, can I? So generous."

Every word between you is murmured between kisses. He diesn't have to hear you say it, he knows the answer.

He doesn't have to tell you he's had the ring your entire fourth year of residency. Just waiting for you to say you wanted to stay.

You're really shaking when he slips the ring on your finger and of course it fits perfectly and of course it's exactly what you would have picked, because it's Jack. Becasuse this has never been casual for either of you, not for one single moment.

You pull back from kissing him with a laugh and an evil grin, "You suppose I'd be more or less likely to get the attending position with your last name?"

Jack laughs with you and drags your hips closer, because as soon as this conversation is finished he's taking you to bed and doing terrible, filthy things to you the rest of the weekend. "Look me in the eye and tell me this is really what you want baby."

He can feel the metal of the ring on your finger as your hand presses against his jaw, "This is what I want Jack. This is exactly what I want."

Your noses bump together as he kisses you and nods, "Have something else I need to tell you then." He kissed you again, before you can panic. "You don't need to apply for the attending position."

You put some distance between you and for the first time in a long time Jack has to gently stop you, guide you away from putting too much pressure on his right knee at this angle. You murmur a little, "Sorry." as you scoot closer. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Arms locked tight around you Jack keeps a straight face, tells you something he's wanted to tell you since you started this conversation. "It's not going to come down to whether you get the job or not. Robby already tagged you for it."

You blink, "What?"

Jack rubbed his hands over your thighs, putting in the pressure and the warmth to keep you grounded, "It's going to come down to whether you want the job or not, because they're going to offer it to you once you complete your residency."

"You're fucking with me right now."

He chuckles, "I am not fucking with you right now. It's like I told you; we'd be stupid to let you go anywhere else."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" He's almost laughing outright now, "They asked us for our recommendations, every single one of us said you. Obviously I'm not supposed to tell you, but…"

"So you were just letting me stress out about all of this!? About the fact that I might lose you, because I wasn't going to get the job, that I was going to have to leave and, and move to the opposite side of the country or something!"

"I was trying to stay out if it. In case being here isn't what you wanted." He left the 'if I wasn't what you wanted' out of it.

"Jack!, I mean Jesus, c'mon! We've been together for almost two fucking years. How would you even begin to think this isn't what I wanted!?" You're yelling at him, but you're laughing and crying and have a death grip on the back of his neck.

Jack takes a deep breath and deescalates. "My therapist says I plan for the worst case scenario as a coping mechanism, as a way to try and protect myself from the pain of unforseen loss."

Taking his lead you take a deep breath, lower your tone. "Yeah, he also says it's one thing to be prepared for emergencies and another to try and plan for the worst possible outcome to a conversation, that you haven't even initated, therefore running the risk of 'planning' that worst case outcome into existence." You scowl at him.

Sometimes he hates that you're so in tune, so invested and involved in his mental health, because it's annoying to hear his therapist come out of your mouth. He smirks though, because he also loves it a little and can't imagine anyone else holding him accountable the way you do.

"Since you brought your therapist into it, have you told him you've been carrying around my engagement ring in your backpack next to a three day supply of MREs?"

He doesn't answer you because you know he hasn't, you're just making a point. Jack smirks and smooths his hands up your back, "Sure you wanna marry me?" His chest hurts at the way you light up as he watches your eyes flick back to the ring he slipped on your finger.

"Very sure." You looked him in the eye like you were daring him to doubt you and gave him that little smirk. The one that had started this all, where it tipped up to one side like you were trying not to show him something.

Jack waited for you to lean in and kiss him, waited for your fingers to comb into his curls and your tongue to chase after his, and then he grabbed you tight and pushed to his feet. Chuckling at the way you still squeaked and giggled, no matter how many times he's carried you to bed that way. Or to the couch, the shower, the nearest wall or flat surface.

Later, when you're both exhausted and the blackout curtains are keeping the afternoon sun at bay, you're laying beside him with your head on his shoulder, one leg draped over his and your left hand on his chest. Neither of you can stop staring at the faint glint that is the ring in the dim light of the room.

"Are you sure?"

Jack chuckles, presses a kiss to the top of your head and murmers, "How many times you going to ask me that?"

You bite your lip and turn your face into his neck, "Just making sure."

He closes his eyes when he feels you trace his collar bone with your lips and he moves to cradle the back of her head, holding you close. Jack thinks again about those first two kisses, about the way you had explained yourself. 'Just in case.' He tips your head back so he can kiss you, deep and with emotion he still can't quite process out loud. "I'm sure sweetheart." He kissed you again.

There was something extremely appropriate about the phrase, 'just in case.' he thought and for the rest of his life, every time he kissed you, touched you, told you he loved you, in the back of his mind he'd think. 'Just in case.' Because he knew better than anyone, there was no way to know what time would be the last.

"Hey," Your voice was soft, half asleep when your hand rested against his jaw to pull him out of his thoughts, "I love you." You said it like you knew where his thoughts had gone.

Jack kissed you, holding you close like he'd never let you go. "Love you too."

~~~ The End~~~

[iamasaddie]

lessons in control

Joel Miller x f!Reader

summary: after you witnessed the conflict at the dance, you tried to comfort Joel as best as you could, too bad you weren't really good with words. warnings: PWP, just the tip, mentions of a belly bulge, mentions of cockwarming, creampie, emotionally awkward reader, sex as a distraction, fat girthy age gap (reader late 20s-early 30s, Joel 61. don't like don't read i am planning to write some more stuff about them <3) wc: 1,7k a/n: episode came out weeks ago and i just finished the fix-it fic. i love being on time. divider by @/saradika-graphics

You were already warming up your shared bed when Joel's heavy body plopped next to yours. The matress squeaked pathetically, or maybe those were Joel's knees. He silently scooted closer to you, hugging your body from behind and inhaling your scent.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you reached and blindly found his cheek, scratching the stubble with your thumb in a gentle gesture.

“I can’t seem to control myself when I feel something might happen to her, you now?" You did know. Joel's hyperprotectiveness over Ellie was the thing that brought you together in the first place. And that was the only time when it didn't cause mass distruction. Almost. "I just get filled with rage and I lose it.” Joel sounded like a beaten dog, you knew exactly how much pain his eyes carried. You wished you could say something that’d take his mind off things. You wished you had a better way with words. But the only thing you felt you could offer was your body, so you press your back harder into his t-shirt clad chest; you pushed your ass a bit out to meet his cock that was still soft in his boxers.

“I can help you with the control thing.” You whispered, your breathing soft and calm.

“Yeah?” There was a tint of humor in his voice, a half-smile creeping up on his face. “Gonna walk me on a leash?”

“No,” you grabbed his hand and brought it up from your belly to your tits. Joel barely squeezed the supple flesh, waking up the sleeping beast that was your need. “Let’s start with something less dramatic.”

“You know full well I’m not able to control myself with you either.” As if proving his words, his hips bucked, teasing your ass with his hardening dick. His voice dropped lower, the honey thick cadence you grew to know very well. Joel’s grown out stubble brushed your ear as he moved his lips closer. “If I can have you, I devour you fully.”

You breath caught in your throat. Whatever this turns out to be, you knew you at least gave him shelter from the dark thoughts for the night. “You can have me, but,” your ass kept grinding on him, bringing Joel’s cock to the full potential, “just the tip.”

He barked a soft laugh, fanning your face with his whiskey breath. “Sounds like you’ll be the one struggling, baby,” his thumb and pointer finger pinched your nipple, already taut with excitement, and you bit your cheek to hide the moan. “Since it’s you who always begs me harder, more, deeper.”

Goosebumps erupted on your skin as Joel started nipping at your neck, dragging his teeth along the tender column. His hands enveloped you in a hot cage, forearms squeezing your boobs as he pressed you even tighter to his chest. You couldn’t move—not that you wanted to—but you didn’t think it’d be great for that exercise in control you wanted to give Joel. He bit in the juncture between your neck and shoulder and you gasped. You were so responsive, it drove Joel mad. His hips kept humping your soft ass, and you knew a wet stain already bloomed on the front of his simple underwear. 

“Come on, Joel, let me help you.” You moan was breathy, and you tried to gather some composure to no avail. Feeling his hard length fit between your asscheeks made your core burn. You desperately wanted to have him stretch your pussy around the veiny shaft, even though that wasn’t what you planned in the beginning. You guessed that both of you could learn something.

His hand let go of your tits, dragging down your body to tug your panties down. You fumbled for a moment, helping him get rid of the damp garment. His own he only shoved down enough to let his hard cock out, the elastic of the band sitting tightly under the heavy ballsack. 

Your wet pussy was sheilded from the cold of the room by the blanket that covered you both, and when Joel’s tip finally kissed the slick lips of your cunt, sweat started gathering on the back of your neck. 

One of Joel’s palms rested on your thigh, his almost fully grey happy trail that lead to the coarse pubic hairs tickled your ass and back. His finger dug into the meat of your leg, dragging it up and over his own hairy thigh, so he had a better access to your weeping pussy.

Joel’s teeth grazed your ear, low voice rumbling through you.

“Sure you don’t want me here?” His hand left your leg, and he pressed into your lower belly, making you shiver. “Don’t you love feeling me in your tummy, baby? See how my cock bulges your little belly?”

You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut. You did love that. Loved seeing how big he was, in every aspect, and how well you could still take him. Seeing how much of his cock was in you when he told you to suck your tummy in. 

“N-no,” your whimper lacked any confidence, and Joel only chuckled darkly. “Just the tip.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’.” 

He moved, grabbing the shaft of his cock that was throbbing with the absence of needed contact. With tortuously slow movements, he teased your slit, making sure to nudge your clit every time. The fat head of his cock spread your lips, mixing your arousal and his precum into one cocktail of need and despair. You felt his spongy tip knock on your hole and it took everything you had in yourself not to push down, taking as much of him as you could in one go.

You shook with desire against his body, and Joel finally allowed you to have some of him. Gently, almost mockingly, he pushed the leaking head of his cock in your tight heat. Even this small fraction of his dick felt overwhelming without proper preparation. When your walls hugged his tip, both of you exhaled sharply.

“Fuck, Joel, good, that’s good.”

“Yeah? Already full?” 

“Mhm.”

“I need you to play with your clit, baby. Want you to squeeze that tight little pussy around me as I fuck you with just the tip.”

Shaking, your right hand found your pulsating clit, but before touching it, you pushed your fingers lower, blindly feeling where the tip of his cock split you apart. You grazed his shaft with the tips of your fingers and immediately heard Joel suck air through his clenched teeth.

“If you don’t want me to turn you over and fuck you into this mattress with my whole dick, better keep your fingers on your clit, baby.”

You’d giggle if only he didn’t choose that exact moment to slip out and immediately punch into you again, this time a bit further, but you kept your mouth shut.

Your fingers expertly danced over your throbbing bud, gathering slick that generously seeped out of you. Joel was uncharacteristically quiet, all of his concentration focused on not thrusting his hips and burying himself to the hilt in your welcoming pussy. Sweat dripped down his temple, thighs screaming, but he kept feeding you just the tip, enjoying your breathy mewls. 

Having so little of him when you knew what the whole deal felt like resembled a punishment that you brought upon yourself. He stretched you good, but he couldn’t reach that magic spot he usually pondered into whenever he sunk his cock inside you. That made you work on your clit harder, already desperate to cum when it’s barely been ten minutes. 

“I can hear how wet you are for me,” Joel nipped at your neck, his tip continuously thrusting in and out of you, teasing. “D'you hear that?”

The sounds were loud, vulgar. You’ve heard the wetness of your cunt welcoming Joel with an obscene smack, like when you pat the surface of still water with your opened palm. The waves of your upcoming orgasm rippled from your core and out, like those same disturbed waters.

“Grippin' me tight, darlin’,” he groaned, you could smell his sweat and it made your mouth salivate. “Grippin' so good I can barely pull out.”

Your hand started faltering, rythm failing and Joel, sensing your trouble, left the tip of his cock inside you while his own hand started working on your clit. The simple touch of his fingertips, rough and gentle at the same time, pushed you tripping over the edge. You kept choking on air, inhaling more and more until your lungs burned and your mouth opened wide in a silent scream. 

Joel felt your little bud throbbing under his fingertips, your pussy squeezing his cock so hard he could barely hold off his own orgasm. He found your hand, bringing your slippery fingers back to your spent pussy.

“Keep touching your clit.”

“I can’t,” you whined back, voice barely audible, “it’s too sensitive, Joel.”

“Keep playing with it or I will,” the thought of his big rough fingertip on your sensitive bud again sent a chill down your spine, though it was far from fear that you felt. “I want your pussy choking and crying around me when I fill you up.”

You tried to steady your breathing, your trembling fingers started to work gentle circles on your pussy again. It felt raw, and every extra touch felt like a shock wave shooting through you. But it did what Joel wanted, every swipe made your pussy clench around him with extra strength and he just kept his tip inside you, stroking his shaft that was covered in your cum with his thumb and two fingers.

“Doing good, baby, keep going.”

“It’s too much.” You whined, almost breaking apart from him, but his hand kept you in place.

“It’s not, you can do it for me, can’t you?”

You could do anything for Joel, he was right there. So your fingers kept torturing your poor pussy, bringing as much pain as pleasure, and you kept squeezing around Joel’s cock, bringing him to his own release.

In one long unexpected thrust, he pushed the rest of his cock in you, growling as he spilled rope after rope of his cum inside you. The sudden movement ripped another orgasm out of you and you wailed, tears of pleasure tickling the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, baby,” he sounded everything but sorry, “had to make sure I don’t spill a drop.”

“Does it mean you’ll leave it in for the night?” There was hope in your voice, and you didn’t try to hide it. Whenever Joel kept himself snug in your pussy for the night, you had the best dreams, and the horniest mornings.

He hugged you close to his chest, making sure his softening cock was still plugging you. “I don’t think I got that much control, sweetheart.”

[slimesludge-space]

All because of some stupid pants? -part 1

《Simon misunderstood who's pajama pants and shirts the reader has in her closet. Nothing but misunderstandings》

Note: first writing thing and terrible at spelling °~° sooo apologies if I didn't fix all of them °×°

This will be sliced into bits considering it ended up longer than expected.....enjoy??? °~°

Warnings: cursing, implied cheating, miscommunication, agnst

°~~°~~~~~~~°~~°~~~~~°~~°~~~~°~~°

Simon Riley was a dense man, never really understood it until now. You always came back to his place with a book in hand and bag of spare clothes. Dating a small little bird like you for 6 months now  before you began inviting him back to your apartment. It was a bit bigger than his place and a hell of a lot more books than he originally thought. 

To Simon it was strange being there at first before he also started to bring a few of his things along. You fussed about always going to his place when yours was closer sometimes after dates. Even giving him a key which sealed the deal for him. Sure they might have been going fast but you were gonna be his bird. He knew it the moment he took you back to his place the first time. You always kept him on his toes and he never knew what to expect from you.

Simon had gotten used to bringing you home to his place. Pulling you close and making you forget about where you placed the duffle bag so you would always end up in his clothes....even when he'd hide it and put it back as if it was always there in the first place and maybe you just didn't see it before?

Like a gentleman he is, he offered you his clothes. A T-shirt too big for you and the bold letters on the back that showed off 'RILEY' had always managed to turn him feral and bending you over the closest surface for some quick fun.

One day he stayed longer than a few hours at your place, coming back from a nice brunch and hanging out while his pretty bird talked about the new book you just finished. So imagine his surprise when his girl came out from the bedroom in another guy's pajama pants and a size or two too big of a hoodie he's never seen before. He felt his heart drop and his blood boil. His jaw locked tight while suppressing a growl as you innocently plopped down next to him and started the movie they were supposed to watch that day. At this point Simon didn't give a damn about the movie and more focused on what the fuck type of pants you were wearing. Stupid baggy pants with an even stupid pattern on them. He had to clear his throat from saying something else besides grunting out a question

"what are you wearing?" In as smooth of a voice he could muster while wanting nothing more than to burn everything you were wearing. His little bird had the nerve to innocently look up with the biggest grin as you stood up in front of him to show it off.

"What do you think? These are my favorite actually and look how deep the pockets are! I can literally fit a bag of Swedish fish in these" you stuffed your hands in the pockets like it was the most fascinating thing in the damn world.

Simon wasn't angry anymore....this man was PISSED as he glared at the revolting pants in front of him. Fuckin black pajama pants....MENS pajama pants with the pattern of Homer Simpson running for a fuckin donut and partially bitten donuts scattered around them. Simon's eyes flicker up a bit and clenched his teeth harder and finally read the hoodie for the first time 'peace is irrelevant' with the most stupid drawing of a goose with a knife he has ever had the misfortune of seeing. The only thought going through his head was 'the fuck am I looking at? Fuckin hell, soap would wear something this stupid' 

Simon Riley was baffled, wondering what kind of douchbag had managed to fuck his bird before him and what possessed her to KEEP it? All he could do was grunt out half a reply that sounded close to a 'yeah' before turning back to the movie. What used to be his bird only managed to tilt your pretty head and shrugged before snuggling back to his side.

His anger was boiling over more than he cared to admit, struggling to keep his cool before looking down and seeing you fast asleep. Letting out a deep sigh and grabbing the remote and flipping the TV off. Deciding to just ask you tomorrow about the owner of the clothes as he picks you up and heads to the bedroom. 

He stopped at the door, taking in the sight of knickknacks and books scattered on display around your room. He couldn't help the chuckle that managed to spill out when his eyes landed on the bed. Pillows and blankets to swim in and a large grumpy looking tiger plush standing proud on the bed. He gently tucked you into bed as his eyes flick up to notice the open closet, making his anger come back tenfold. Silently stalking towards your closet as he slightly nudged the shirts and revealed what he hated most. Yup, more fuckin men shirts than he could care to count. But what hurt the most was seeing a few of his inside the mix, like it was a fuckin collection of all the guys you've fucked in the past. But it didn't. God it didn't end even when he really wished it did.

The terrible bright patterns that managed to peak from his Peripheral vision made him want to punch the wall. He really wanted to give his girl the benefit of the doubt as he pulled the drawer open only to find more stupid looking pajama pants.

Simon's mind raced, his bird was loyal. Never gave the impression of anything otherwise. But even he couldn't deny that this room had enough clothes to show that someone else was definitely sleeping here besides you. His heart ached and cracked in two before hardening shut. He stiffened as he heard a muffled moan of his name slip into the air from the girl he thought was his.

rubbing your eyes before sitting up "sorry, I really did wanna see the movie. We could still cuddle though, I think I have some sweats you can borrow-" your words mumbling at the end and shifting to pull the covers off only to freeze at Simon's sharp tone

"No need. I gotta go, talk later" he pushed the drawer shut with a bit too much force that made your drowsy nature snap wide awake. 

"Wait....what?-si hang on!" Your mind was trying to catch up as he was already out the door. Scrambling out of bed to try to catch him but he was already gone. 

Heart sinking as you tried to call him, watching each text being left on sent. Pacing in your living room, scrambling for an idea of what set him off. Bottom lip bitten raw, just waited for something- Anything at this point. Thinking back to the entire day yet nothing seemed out of place. Your eyes burned as you pressed over his number one more time. Gripping your hoodie to ground you as the line went dead as soon as the second ring could even end.

Your heart stuttering in hope as it buzzed with a text, only to be stabbed and tossed into the trash as you read the text over and over 

"With Sophia. So Stop texting already will you." It was short. Cut and dry and straight to the point as you slumped on the couch and gripped your phone. Vision blurring and a whined sob ripped out of you like your bleeding heart. Dropping your phone as your chest tightened in disbelief and betrayal.

Covering your mouth with your sleeve to muffle the sob as your own anger finally snapped. Heading to your bedroom and yanking his shirts and jackets out of your closet, the hanger snapping from the force before you threw them into the living room. A few of the gifts he had gotten you weren't that far behind in meeting the same fate. The cute jewelry thrown just like his spare boots he kept at the front of the door. Yanking trash bags open to shove any of his products in from the bathroom. Your anger snuffing out as fast as it came when you went back to the mess in the living room, slumping on the floor as you looked around. Hiccuping and sniffling back tears as you shakily opened your phone, wishing, hell....praying that it wasn't real but there it was. A new message, sent of the so called Sophia taking a selfie with his phone at the bar. His hand gripping her side as he looked mid conversation with the bartender.

Whatever hope you had was rightfully tossed out the window with that image. Swallowing the knot in your throat and silently blocking his number before heading to bed and crying yourself to sleep.

[socksdoeswrites]

omg new ideas keep flowing within me 💆‍♀️ can you do reader getting hurt really bad and they start crying for their bf, the jjk boys. you can decide how you want to write it, in a story like form or in an smau where it’s like someone else texting from the readers phone. THANK YEWWW XX

an: the emoji is sending me lmaooo! i most definitely can! you already know i love my jjk men :))! i decided to do a short story thing. i figured it'd be a little more detailed. when people ask for things like this im gonna start locking the fuuuuuuck in. don't wanna leave you pookies unsatisfied!!! you guys deserve the best of the BEST! so, lemme stop yapping, and get to this writing! my writing flow can no longer be stopped guys. im in for real. xoxo!

parings: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, and you!

tags/warnings: cursing, fluff, angst, cliffhanger (im sooooooryyyy i thought it'd be fitting), spoiler!!! tojis is a little... different, i decided to only do the men men in this, but if you want me to add yuuji and megumi, and the others please lmk!, i think thats all!! i really hope you enjoy! (guys, idk if you know the song, "die your daughter", but i listened to that on loooooop writing this.)

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satoru gojo

he didn't know where to look. his mind racing with different thoughts, bad thoughts. his vision wasn't focusing. under each pile of garbage, he listened carefully. a whimper, a scream, a something. he begged and pleaded to himself.

"c'mon, baby. c'mon..."

satoru knew had to be in this area. his heart shattered when a gut-wrenching scream flooded his ears. immediately turning to the sound, and if his heart couldn't break anymore, you lay there. a pipe piercing you through your stomach. blood pouring from the open wound. you hadn't noticed him until his broken voice murmured your name...

"y/n..?"

your head slowly moved to the side, as you connected your gaze with his, you yelled.

"t-toru! "

he wasted no more time bolting towards you. he gently moved your head into his lap. a string of curses fell from his lips as he looked around you. the whimpers and groans in pain melting his heart. he didn't know how to help you at that very moment. all he did was caress your cheek.

"y-you're okay... you're gonna be okay, sweet girl. i have you... i'm gonna help you, okay? stay awake for me, yeah?"

you couldn't help but cry and scream, as he tried his hardest to gently cradle you in his arms. if he wanted to get you out of this alive, he had to move you, and quick. desperately gripping onto his shoulders. the metal pipe still piercing your soft skin. he knew exactly who to take you to. it was just a matter of getting there that scared him...

suguru geto

"where the fuck is she?"

that seemed to be the only thing racing through suguru's mind. he felt disgusted with himself that he wasn't able to take care of you like he had promised so many times. the staff from the hospital trying their hardest to calm the raging man down, until he heard it.

the piercing scream from a certain room. your scream. he wasted no time pushing past the staff, sweating as he prepared himself for what he was about to see. no amount of preparation could prepare him for the sight of your bruised and beaten body lying there helplessly. you begged and cried, for him. you had been begging for him this entire time, and he just showed up. talk about tough luck. the guilt completely gnawing at him, until your pain-filled eyes met his...

"s-sugu.."

your voice was hoarse and raspy, and what broke him even more, was the small grabby hands you made at him. he felt like the shittest man alive, as he rushed to your side, leaning his forehead on yours. he held you tighter with each noise you made. he caressed your face gingerly. sorrow filled eyes were the last thing you seen before passing out...

kento nanami

each cough that left your throat burned as if you drank a full body of whiskey in one sitting. the smoke blazed and screamed around violently. you continued to push through.

"k...ken!" a cough followed shortly after.

your screams seemed to fall on no ears as you tumbled through the broken and disaster-filled city.

"baby! p-please!! where!," a coughing fit tore from your lungs.

"where are you?!"

it seemed almost hopeless to keep screaming. your body being bruised and bloody as you had to drag yourself from the rubble. you knew if you didn't get out of this soon it's be the end for you. you begged and cried to yourself to keep moving. to drag your body a few more steps.

"y/n!"

looking up, you saw the man you had been begging for this entire time run straight for you. you couldn't help but weakly smile, and as your vision blurred, your body began to fail. you fell forward into the arms of your loved one... that seemed to be the only thing you remember before black...

toji fushiguro

"ma, you gotta breath for me."

toji's voice rang in your ears as you looked around the room hopelessly. you were on fire, hot to the touch, and all you could do was sit there and scream. you had screamed for this kind of pain to stop, for some sort of relief. this wasn't normal at all. the doctors voices around you discussing matters in a quick tone as they tended to you.

"toji!"

"i'm here."

every time you took your eyes away from his, he stayed focused on your movements focussed if you needed him, if you needed anything.

"you're almost there, pretty. c'mon, keep looking at me..."

with one final cry out... the pain subsided... and the cry of your baby was the only thing flooding your ears... your vision returned back to normal, to see your beautiful baby boy lying on your chest... and toji kissing your sweaty forehead...

"hey, you... took you long enough..."

[annaswrites00]

We Probably Shouldn’t - Kimi Antonelli

Kimi Antonelli x Rory Bearman (OC)

Chapter One - Intro!!

Summary - Kimi and Ollie’s sister start something they probably shouldn’t…

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The energy in the paddock was electric, the air thick with anticipation as qualifying day kicked into gear. The street circuit in Melbourne always felt special, but today, it buzzed with something even sharper. Ollie was about to make his rookie debut, and Rory could feel the nerves crawling up her spine.

She stood by the barrier, leaning forward slightly as she scanned the grid. The cars were being prepped, engineers shouting over the noise, tension curling in the air. Her brother was somewhere down in the Haas garage, getting ready for the biggest moment of his career so far. It was surreal. The same kid who used to throw toy cars at her was about to race against the best drivers in the world.

Her attention shifted as Kimi Antonelli came into view, heading toward Ollie. Without even thinking, Rory’s gaze followed him. She had seen him around all weekend — at the Mercedes garage, during press conferences, through the usual whirlwind of F1 chaos. But it felt different now, standing here and watching him in his element. Kimi was always so calm, so collected.

She could not help but watch him. His Mercedes suit fit perfectly, and he stood there with easy confidence, arms crossed as he listened to Ollie. The conversation looked casual, but she could tell there was a quiet intensity behind it. This was their debut. Of course they were nervous. She knew that better than anyone.

She didn’t even realize she was staring until Kimi caught her eye from across the paddock. He smiled and gave a quick wave. Then he tapped Ollie, who turned and threw her a thumbs-up. Rory smiled back, feeling her face flush as she quickly looked away, pretending to focus on something else.

Stop it, she told herself. She couldn’t let her mind wander like this. But there was something about Kimi — the way he moved, the way he carried himself. He was cute in a way that was effortless, almost unintentional. And Rory? She could not help but notice.

She glanced back just in time to see him say something to Ollie, his expression easy and light.

Around them, the world started to shift. The cars were warming up, tires screeched as they were changed out, and the hum of the crowd swelled into a familiar, buzzing symphony. Rory felt the weight of the moment settle in her chest. She glanced at Ollie one more time, heart pounding as she watched him climb into his car. He was ready. He had to be.

As the cars lined up and the session finally began, Rory felt the butterflies in her stomach take flight again. She was not just watching Ollie now. She was watching all of it — the competition, the drivers, the energy thick in the air. And in the back of her mind, there was Kimi, too. Quiet. Confident. Still just out of reach.

It was going to be an interesting season. That much, she was sure of.

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Hi!! This is my first time writing or posting anything like this so please be kind!!

[galedekarios]

Not sure if you still do Gale meta asks so if you don’t, feel free to ignore me, but after replaying BG3 recently and getting to Gale’s third artifact explanation, I realized I’m actually a bit lost on his character on that slot.

I am of the opinion that Mystra groomed Gale and their relationship was unhealthy (I’m pretty sure you’re on agreement with that.) For a long time I thought Gale sought out to bring her the Netherese orb in an act of love and because he did not feel worthy or equal to her, but when he explained to me again I noticed at first his motives seemed to be based in the fact that Mystra closed veils to him despite how close he was to them while with her. So it leaves me a little lost because he also swore it was to serve her better, which I don’t get how that could be.

My current personal understanding is Gale, being with Mystra, was constantly looking into the “precipice” others could not access, and Mystra restricted that as she did with others. Gale, feeling like he wasn’t enough, desired to instead prove himself worthy in her eyes to access this knowledge. Perhaps it was still an effort to feel equal to someone he could not be? I’d love an explanation, ty!

thank you for your message!

yes, i am still doing them. i apologise for the wait, but they do take a lot of time, with the amount of research and time that goes into them (outlining, writing, putting together quotes and screenshots if needed). i hope you are still seeing this! 🖤

as for your confusion as to gale's motives:

i think the fault doesn't lie with you. i think the fault lies with larian.

the problem with re-writes and purging

i don't think your confusion is down to you not understanding, but rather it's larian's fault for their at times sloppy re-writes of early access in general to re-work it for the full version based on the fan feedback they received, as well as fitting the story they originally had planned within the scope of the possible.

they rewrote characters (gale, wyll, shadowheart, astarion, etc), they rewrote entire plotlines around factions and npcs while cutting others (halsin's and ketheric's relationship and how it pertained to the shadowcurse and isobel, cutting candlekeep and the astral plane, etc).

they softened up a lot of characters -- gale included -- and, important to your question, they sought to largely remove any dialogue that hinted at lingering feelings or had too many mentions of mizora from wyll and mystra from gale to placate players who felt upset by those mentions made -- even though it (imo) harmed the overall narrative for these characters -- both of which larian discussed prior to release and after release in their panels from hell and interviews, for example:

What is, in your folks opinion, is the funniest (and non-spoilery) addition or story that’s occurred because of either fan reception/feedback? Baudelaire Welch: We mercilessly purged any references to Gale or Wyll being hung up on their exes.

the fandom in general has talked many times about larian and their tendency to adopt popular fandom narratives and/or compromise their stories and characters over fan feedback so i won't rehash it at this point once again, although you can be sure i do have some less than charitable thoughts about it all.

however, i'm of the opinion however that these "purges" often left scars in the stories and character, and they left old traces that lead to a poorer characterisation for it, they messed up timelines, motivations or caused inconsistencies in characterisation and lore -- especially because in gale and wyll's cases, these "purges" were not substituted with new scenes.

things were only taken and scrapped, and nothing new was added in its stead.

the "purging" and re-write of gale included not only changing aspects of his personality, but removing scenes that were very much integral to his character and to understand not only what happened to him and mystra, but also the direness of his situation, the sheer loss of power and status he suffered -- from a waterdhavian archwizard able to wield silverfire to a, essentially, level 1 adventurer struggling to hold onto a fraction of the control he once held over the weave.

these two "purged" scenes are the loss scene and the deer stew scene, as well as a rewrite of the first romance scene, which then took place during the tiefling party.

i have detailed many of these scenes and cut dialogues in my series re: early access gale's cut content. if you wish to read it, you can do so here.

early access gale vs full release gale: why did he seek out the orb?

the loss scene and the tiefling party scene revealed early access gale's intentions: he sought the orb to proof his love to mystra and to win her back after she abandoned him.

it was the actions of, as he puts it, a very young and very naive man, who was in love for the first time, lost that love and tried to win it back.

i think it's very important to keep in mind here also that originally, gale's entire story was set on different premise than the full release version storyline. i, and others, have speculated that he was physically even more affected by the netherese orb housed inside of his body to the point of where auntie ethel was able to smell the rot on him. i have written another meta on that original storyline here.

but back to the dialogue explaining why gale sought the orb as it was in early access:

i have written down and edited here a part of the tiefling party scene after the protag and gale spent the night together, which is when he would reveal the full extent of what happened mystra, after having hinted at it in the loss and in other smaller dialogues before:

Gale: Once upon a time, not quite that long ago, there lived a wizard in a tower. The wizard was what one might call a prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the Weave, but compose it, like a musician or a poet. Such was his skill that it earned him the attention of the mother of magic herself. The Lady Of Mysteries, Mystra. Protag: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love.  Gale: Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. Mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘Chosen One’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely. Protag: The veils draped across the Weave? Gale: Indeed. What most wizards perceive is but the ripple of the Weave’s surface. Untold wonders lie beyond. I enjoyed them for a while, as we enjoyed each other. Gale: Alas it was Mystra’s interest that didn’t last. One day all too soon, the whispers stopped. The goddess spurned the mortal. The veils were drawn once more, and the wizard was left behind heartbroken. Protag: Poor wizard Gale: Poor wizard. Silly wizard too, for he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Protag: What happened next? Gale: Like so many of the heartbroken, he did something infinitely foolish. One has to think big if one seeks to win back a goddess. So the wizard thought big. Protag: Define big. Gale: Here goes; once upon a time, very long ago, a mighty lord lived in a tower. A flying tower to be precise. I’ll save his story for another time, but the gist of it is that he sought to usurp the goddess of magic so that he could become a god himself. He almost managed but not quite, and his entire empire – Netheril – came crashing down around him as he turned to stone. The magic unleashed that day was phenomenal, rolling like the prime chaos that outdates creation. A fragment of it was caught and sealed away in a book. No ordinary book, mind you; a tome of gateways that contained within it a bubble of Astral Plane. It was a fragment of primal Weave locked out of time – locked away from Mystra herself. ‘What if’, the silly wizard thought. ‘What if after all this time, I could return this lost part of herself to the Goddess?” Protag: What was the answer to his question? Gale: The answer was to try, and the outcome was to fail. Here. Place your hand over my heart. Let me show you. Narrator: You feel the tadpole quiver as you realise Gale is letting you in. Into the dark. You see through Gale’s eyes, staring down the corridors of a dread memory. A book, bound, then suddenly opened. Inside there are no pages, only a swirling mass of blackest Weave that pounces. It’s teeth, it’s claws, it’s unstoppable as it digs through you and becomes part of you. And gods, is it ever hungry… Protag: Yank your hand away. Gale: Terrifying isn’t it? And that is only the beginning This Netherese taint... this orb, for lack of a better word, is balled up inside my chest. And it needs to be fed. As long as it absorbs Weave it remains stable – to an extent. The moment it becomes unstable, however... Protag: You will die, obviously.. Gale: Rather worse, actually.  It will erupt. I don’t know the exact magnitude of the eruption, but given my studies of Netherese magic, I’d say even a fragment as small as the one I carry… It’d level a city the size of Waterdeep. Gale: It is my truth, finally revealed. It is this folly that led Mystra to abandon me completely. I can only hope you won’t abandon me as well. After all we’ve been through... After the night we spent together. Surely we can brave even this side by side.

the reason for the full release version of gale is curiosity and thirst for knowledge and wanting to feel equal to mystra:

Gale: Such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself. The Lady of Mysteries. The goddess Mystra. She revealed herself to me and she became my teacher. In time, she became my muse, and later, even my lover. Protag: Are you telling me you made love to a goddess? Gale: Oh yes. We enjoyed each other's company - body, mind and soul. But even so, I desired more. You see, no matter how powerful a wizard we mortals can become, we never scratch more than the surface of the Weave. Mystra keeps us in check. There are boundaries she doesn't let us cross. Yet every time I was with her, I stood on the precipice, gazing into the wonders that lay beyond. I sought to cross her boundaries. Protag: How exactly did you try to cross those boundaries? Gale: I tried to convince her. I pouted, I pleaded, I swore my ambition was only to serve her better. But she only smiled and told me to be contented. As inconceivable as it seems to me now, I shared a bed with a goddess and yet I wasn't satisfied. So I sought to prove myself worthy to her instead. We come now to the crux of my folly. Shall I share the story behind it, or would you rather head straight to its sordid finale? Protag: I'm intrigued. Tell me all. Gale: Very well. Here goes: Once upon a very long time ago, a mighty lord lived in a tower. A flying tower, to be precise. I'll save his history for another time, but the gist of it is that he sought to usurp the goddess of magic so that he could become a god himself. He almost managed, but not quite, and his entire empire - Netheril - came crashing down around him as he turned to stone. The magic unleashed that day was phenomenal, roiling like the prime chaos that outdates creation. Even the Weave itself could not withstand the onslaught. It fractured, then shattered, and all magic was lost to the mortal realms until the day Mystra returned. She restored the Weave, reuniting all its scattered shards. Or so I thought, until in the course of my studies I learned of a book. A Netherese tome in which a piece of the fractured Weave had been sealed beyond her reach. 'What if', I thought, 'What if after all this time, I could return this lost part of herself to the goddess?' Protag: So your grand plan was akin to emptying a cup of water in the sea. Brilliant. Gale: I certainly thought so. Sometimes there is great strength to be found in symbolism. I was certain that this deed of raw power draped in romance would convince Mystra to take me by the hand and welcome me into her hitherto forbidden domains. I was mistaken. I obtained the fabled book and took it into my study. As for what happened next... Here. Place your hand over my heart. Let me show you. Narrator: *You feel the tadpole quiver as you realise Gale is letting you in.* *Into the dark.* *You see through Gale's eyes, staring down the corridors of a dread memory. A book, bound, then suddenly opened.* *Inside there are no pages, only a swirling mass of blackest Weave that pounces.* *Its teeth, its claws, it's unstoppable as it digs through and becomes part of you. And gods, is it ever-hungry...*

in conclusion, early access gale did it out of love for mystra as a young man, as a chosen, and as a romantic trying to win back his lost first love, however naive and grand (and ultimately doomed) the gesture was, which was then cut to appease those who thought gale was "too hung up" on mystra, and changed around, purging some scenes and dialogue while keeping others.

(on a tangent: this also once again shows, imo, how ultimately it's completely futile to try and appease these sort of demands/complaints since this is still very much a big complaint that is levied against gale's character.)

it's now more about power, curiosity, knowledge and a desire to be equal, while the new narrative of the full release version still to some extent kept the relationship with mystra intact.

with the removal of the deer stew scene, of the loss scene, and all those little dialogues, purging and cutting away to re-write gale's devotion to mystra as the embodiment of weave and his first true love, while still leaving in some of that, with lines from those very conversation, is where your (as well as other's) confusion is coming from.

i'm only rambling now so i will stop and say that i hope this was at least somewhat helpful for you!

[backtothefanfiction]

Shhhhh | dad!peter imagine

Summary: trying to seize the moment on your anniversary before the kids wake up

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, lazy morning sex, husband and wife, whispers, needing to be quiet, breeding kink, important discussion, domestic bliss

Word Count: 2kish? (I wrote in app again so don’t know)

A/N: this is a super quick idea I had before bed whilst in my horny feels for dad!peter. Also it took me way longer to decide on a gif to pair this with than write and I only chose this one because… well I gave up. Anyway, enjoy.

You were still half asleep when you felt him roll over in the bed next to you and snuggle closer. The early morning light from the city was already starting to penetrate through the curtains, but you forced your eyes to remain closed, enjoy the feeling of your husband cuddled in tightly next to you and get at least a little bit more sleep before the kids woke up.

However it seemed Peter had other ideas. You felt him shift behind you again, his arms moving under the covers as he pulled you back even further into the shape of his warm body, his morning wood pressing firmly against your ass cheeks through your underwear.

You remained still, feigning sleep, wanting to see how far he would take things or if he genuinely just wanted to have a morning cuddle- and his erection was just an unfortunate inconvenience. But as his hand moved down to stroke at the skin on the outside of your thigh and up under your nightdress, you knew this was more calculated than you initially realised.

“Mmmm,” you groaned as you rolled back into him, letting him know you were awake. “What are you doing?” You asked as he began to snake his hand into the front of your underwear, his fingers wasting no time as they began to rub lazy circles over your clit.

“I’m seizing the moment,” he replied in a hushed and husky tone into your ear. “Mabel had her sleepover at Aunt May’s last night,” he said, dipping two of his fingers inside you and making you let out a little moan. “Ben will be asleep for at least another half hour,” he continued, his body shifting slightly as he looked over at the alarm clock on your side of the bed. “Besides, it’s our anniversary weekend and I’m feeling like I haven’t really shown my wife just how much I appreciate her lately.”

You whimpered as he stopped pumping his fingers inside you and moved them instead, back to messily circling your clit. “Mmmm, Peter,” you moaned breathily as he leant in to nuzzle at your neck, his lips tickling at your skin.

“Shhhh, baby,” he hummed into your ear, “I don’t want to get interrupted again,” he said, reminding you of when he had tried to initiate sex last week before Mabel had burst in claiming to have had a nightmare. You had of course welcomed her into bed with open arms, much to her father’s frustration. “You owe me,” he had said to you in the dark after she had fallen back asleep between the two of you, and now it seemed he was ready to collect.

He shifted you back onto your side before hiking up your nightdress and slipping your underwear down your legs to get lost somewhere at the bottom of the bed sheets. You could feel him shuffling behind you as he slipped down his pyjama bottoms to expose himself, before lining himself up with you from behind.

You shifted your leg back over his thigh, allowing him space to manoeuvre. Even after all these years and two kids, he still managed to fit you like a glove. “Oh god,” he groaned into your neck before he pushed his forehead into your shoulder.

As he began to rock inside you, you closed your eyes, wanting to focus on feeling him deep inside you from this position. You hummed quietly, trying to hold back the moans that desperately wanted to fall from your lips, but still wanting him to know how much you were enjoying this, especially when his hand moved round to palm at your breast.

“You should come off the pill again,” he said huskily into your ear. “Have another baby,” he grunted, his thrusts hitting deeper and messier as he lost his mind over the thought. Peter had a real breeding kink. Neither of you had realised until you had actually gotten serious about trying for kids a year after you got married. It was something that just happened naturally and only became worse when you actually fell pregnant and began growing Mabel in your belly.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy when you’re pregnant,” he moaned into your skin. “So fucking beautiful when you’re carrying my child inside of you.” he gritted, his thrusts becoming firmer with each word as he lost himself to the fantasy.

“I thought you said we had to be quiet,” you hissed over your shoulder at him and his hand moved down to circle dangerously over your clit again.

“I am quiet,” he whispered, “I said it because you don’t know how to be.” His fingers pressed down on your sensitive clit as he spoke and as if to prove him right, you let out a slightly louder, unexpected and completely uncontrollable moan.

“Shhh,” he hissed into your ear again. “See, I told you-“

“Pete,” you whined quietly as his slow and deep lazy thrusts and circling fingers began to bring you to the edge.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you,” he reassured you quietly and you really had to focus in order to not cry out and wake the toddler sleeping soundly down the hall.

“Come on, baby,” he coached you quietly as your hips began to thrust back into him desperately, needing just that little more to tip you over the edge.

“Peter,” you whimpered, your teeth biting at your lips.

“I know, I know. I’ve got you, baby,” he cooed, his cock dragging agonisingly against that sensitive spot inside you, your legs closing tightly, making the feeling even more intense. Your fingers gripped tightly into the pillow under your head, your eyes screwed shut tight as he continued to lazily fuck into you.

“Gonna make you cum, then fill you nice and good,” he said and your pussy fluttered around him at his words spurring him on to thrust just that little bit faster and firmer.

“Oh shit,” you gritted, your knuckles nearly white now as you waited for that final tip over the edge. His hands moved down quickly to open your legs again and rub at your clit. It was too much, the final straw and suddenly your climax came rushing over you. You rushed to turn your head into your pillow and muffle the groans and obscenities that were falling out of your mouth as he picked up pace and continued to fuck you through it, wanting desperately to finish before Ben inevitably realised you were both awake and came looking for you both.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he gritted. “My wife. So fucking good to me. So fucking good.” You gripped the bedsheets tight as his hips began to stutter, your sensitivity so overwhelming you needed to do anything you could to ground yourself and get through it.

With another two deep thrusts he stilled before you felt him begin to pulsate inside you, thick ropes of his cum painting your insides as his body collapsed over your own.

“I love you so much,” he panted into your ear as he pressed his head intimately against yours.

“I love you too,” you sighed, your eyes blinking heavily as they adjusted to the light of the room. “But you do know,” you said as your breathing continued to steady, his cock slowly softening inside you, “that if we have another kid, the chances of doing this will be even slimmer than they are now.” you sighed, just as you both began to hear thundering steps making their way down the hallway.

He groaned again, thinking that statement over before kissing you on the cheek. He sighed, pulling out of you and adjusting himself back inside his pyjamas under the covers just before the door clicked open and your little boy came bounding onto the bed.

“I don’t know,” Peter said as the three of you lay in bed with toast and juice watching early morning cartoons under the covers 30 minutes later, his eyes catching yours over the top of Ben’s head. He thought of Christmas mornings, the four of you all cuddled into this bed and opening presents. The bedtime routines. The many giggly games of hide and seek. The plethora of finger paintings on the fridge door, and smiled. “I think I’m willing to take those chances.” he said and you sighed in contentment, because three had always been your magic number anyway.

[circumscribitwrites]

My job agency’s suggested the staff writer role for me. I guess it makes sense, I’ve got a social sciences degree from a top university so they can guess I’m good at writing. I’m not sure what content Men’s Monthly would want from a bear like me though. While it’s only been a year and a bit since I graduated, my muscle pretty much dissolved to fat while I was studying, and I think it’s about working out or something? But it can’t hurt to show up to interview.

You had a great body when you started university. It didn’t last.

The campus gym was closed for “social distancing.” You never left your dorm. All you could do was eat, study, sleep, and repeat. Other people had their freshman fifteen. For you, it was closer to fifty.

Thanks, Covid-19.

You tried one diet after another. You promised yourself that you’d finally exercise again - starting tomorrow, of course. But you had to put your studies first. The weight just didn’t come off. By the time you graduated, you’d replaced every piece of clothing you owned.

Twice.

Health and fitness weren’t your forte - at least not anymore. That's why you never expected Men’s Monthly to reach out to you.

“So,” said the interviewer, “we don’t doubt that you can do the job. But we’re interested in how you’d do it. We want someone who can take a personal approach to their stories. Really get involved, have skin in the game, connect with our audience, all that. Is that you?"

You nodded.

“Alright, great! Now, before we go further, there’s just a little assignment. We want you to write a story - nothing too long. Shouldn’t take more than a day. Here it is: Why do you work out?”

You gulped. You hadn’t been to the gym in…years. And the idea of going in there now, looking like…you? You felt sick to your stomach.

Your stomach.

You blinked. “Sure...That’s no problem.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great. Just let me know when you’ve written it!”

The call ended. You let out a sigh. You couldn’t just come up with some fake story. And there was a gym just down the street…

You rummaged through your closest, finding old sweatpants with just enough give to fit around your waist and a t-shirt baggy enough to cover up your stomach. It was easy enough to get a pass for the gym. You ventured beyond the front desk, surveying the equipment: treadmills, exercise bikes, weight machines, squat racks, dumbbells.

Dumbbells.

How hard could they be? They literally had dumb in the name, after all. You walked over to the rack and picked up the weights, one in each hand. Slowly, carefully, you moved them upward.

Your muscles flexed, biceps already bulging.

Why did you work out?

Because you wanted to feel healthy. To be strong.

Another curl. You felt yourself getting warmer, beads of sweat forming on your forehead.

Why did you work out?

Because it felt good. And you deserved to feel good.

The weights felt heavier now. Your muscles burned. Sweat ran down your face, falling into your eyes. You kept going, kept pushing.

Why did you work out?

‘Cus this is what you do. Workin’ out’s part of you. Always has been.

Your shirt was drenched. You put the weights down and peeled it off your skin, tossing it to the floor.

Yeah, you worked out.

And it made you look like a fuckin’ beast.

Your shoulders were broad, your chest wide, your arms pumped, your abs glistening. You couldn’t get enough of your own reflection.

They’re gonna want something for that story. Better take a pic.

Thanks for applying, Anonymous!

And if you're looking to Be a Man™, Men's Monthly is still hiring!

[rrysbabydoll]

hiiiiii so i accidentally read ur last post "stached" as "stretched" at first and now i cant stop thinking abt that.... would u ever consider writing some ridiculously nsfw rough stretching? maybe? pretty pls? 🤭🫣💗

Ride, Cowgirl

Pairing: Harry Styles × Reader

CW: Explicit sexual content, dominant/submissive dynamic, size kink, rough stretching, degradation/praise mix, mild overstimulation, consensual power play.

Synopsis: Y/N tries to ride Harry but struggles to take his size. He takes control, pushing her past her limits with rough, overwhelming pleasure, leaving her ruined, praised, and full.

It started with you on top, because Harry asked, and you always try.

“Go on, darling,” he murmured, voice syrupy smooth but thick with authority. “Show me how much you want it.”

The bedroom was dim, moonlight cutting across the sheets in a narrow beam. He sat against the headboard, arms relaxed at his sides, watching you like a meal he had all the time in the world to devour. You were already breathless, thighs trembling, the ache between your legs unbearable.

And his cock—God—he looked too big.

He always did.

You hovered above him, your knees caging his hips. One of his large hands rubbed up and down your outer thigh in lazy, teasing strokes, while the other gripped the base of his cock, thick and pulsing and unreasonably hard.

“You’re not scared, are you?” he smirked tilting his head. “Thought you wanted to be my good girl.”

You did. You always did. But that didn’t make it easier.

You whimpered as you lined yourself up, holding his shoulders for balance. Just the head pressing against your entrance made your breath hitch.

“I can’t…” you whispered, hips jerking slightly away. “Harry, you’re too big.”

He gave a low chuckle, mocking but fond. “No such thing, love. You just have to relax. Take your time.”

But time wasn’t something Harry liked to waste, not when he was this worked up.

Suddenly, both of his hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your flesh with bruising promise. “You’ve teased me enough tonight. I let you sit on my lap in that little dress. Let you grind on me like a needy slut at dinner. Thought you could rile me up and then back out?”

Your mouth parted in a shaky breath.

“No,” you whispered, dazed.

“Then do it.” His voice dropped, tone commanding. “Get. On.”

He didn’t give you a chance to hesitate this time. His grip forced your hips down just an inch—just enough for the tip to slip past your entrance—and the stretch made you whimper, both hands clutching at his chest. It burned, in that way it always did. He was too wide, too thick. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you clenched without meaning to.

Harry groaned under you, head falling back with a tight jaw. “Fuck, you’re gripping already. Barely got the tip in, and you’re squeezing me like that?”

You moaned, half from pleasure, half from frustration. You tried to slide down farther on him, but your body resisted, muscles trembling. Your thighs started to burn from the effort. Every time you moved even a little lower, it felt like you were being split open.

He watched you struggle, his breathing getting heavier. His hands never left your hips, guiding, steady, controlling. “You want help, baby? Or you wanna prove you can take it?”

You whimpered, shaking your head. “I want to, I swear—I just can’t…”

He shushed you gently, a sudden contrast to his rough grip. “Don’t cry, angel. We’ll make it fit. You always take me, don’t you?”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

“Good girl,” he purred. “Then ride me.”

You tried again, lowering yourself more, inch by inch. Your walls stretched painfully around him, slick pooling between your legs. You cried out, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. You weren’t even halfway down, and it already felt like too much.

He groaned, sweat beginning to sheen on his chest. “You’re fuckin’ made for me. Look at you, struggling on top of me like this— fuck..”

The way he said it, it made your insides twist with need.

“I can’t ride you, H—” you gasped, tears stinging your lashes. “I—my legs are shaking, I—”

“Because you’re lazy or because I’m too big?” he asked lowly, cocky and calm.

You whined. “Both.”

He laughed—genuinely laughed—and then he gripped your hips tighter. “That’s alright, bunny. I’ll do it for you.”

And then, without warning, he bucked his hips up.

You screamed.

Your body sank onto him all at once, and your thighs gave out completely, collapsing onto his chest. You were so full, too full. It felt like he reached everywhere. Like he had no business fitting inside you at all.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

“Shhh, shhh, I’ve got you,” he cooed into your ear, wrapping one strong arm around your waist. “There you go, baby. You’re doing so well.”

You tried to lift your hips again, but your legs wouldn’t cooperate. Your pussy fluttered helplessly around him, stretched to its limit, overwhelmed. The burn, the fullness, the way he kept praising you through your struggle, it was all too much.

“I feel so full,” you whispered, voice wrecked.

“I know you do.” He kissed your temple, his other hand coming up to cradle your jaw. “Look at you. Stuffed full of cock and still trying to be brave. You’re my perfect girl, aren’t you?”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks.

He shifted you in his arms, effortlessly strong, so your chest was flush with his and your thighs straddled his waist loosely. He was so deep like this, nestled inside your trembling cunt, and he didn’t move, just held you there, letting your walls adjust.

Then he started to thrust.

Slowly, at first, tiny rocks of his hips that made you whimper with each motion. The stretch was sharper now that he was moving. You moaned into his neck, nails raking down his back.

“You feel that?” he murmured, breath hot against your cheek.

“Yes,” you sobbed. “Feels so big—too big—”

“But you’re still taking it,” he said darkly. “You’re taking all of me.”

His pace picked up. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your broken cries. Your body bounced slightly with each thrust, but you couldn’t even lift yourself anymore. He was holding all your weight, driving up into you again and again, stretching you raw.

You keened, walls fluttering desperately.

“Fuck,” he growled, biting down lightly on your shoulder. “Gonna come just from being used like this, aren’t you? My desperate, messy girl.”

You shattered.

Your body spasmed in his arms, and you screamed as your orgasm tore through you, overwhelming, all-consuming, a full-body quake that left your limbs numb and your head fuzzy. You didn’t even realize you were crying until he kissed the tears off your cheeks.

“That’s it,” he whispered, still fucking you through it, though his thrusts were sloppier now, more desperate. “That’s my girl.”

Your walls clenched hard again, and he let out a strangled groan, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck, baby—I’m gonna—”

And then he was coming, cock twitching deep inside you as he groaned your name, hot and low and broken. You felt the warmth of it fill you, his hips grinding into yours as he emptied every last drop.

He didn’t move for a while, just held you there, wrapped around him, still trembling.

Eventually, he stroked your back and kissed your jaw. “You okay, lovie?”

You nodded weakly. “Mhm. Sore.”

He smiled into your skin. “Did I break my girl?”

“Almost,” you whispered, smirking.

[restlessmaknae]

melody of your heartbeat // taesan

You had once given up Dongmin to chase your dreams of being an idol, and when your dream gets crushed, he's the last person you expect to see at your new agency. Turns out he's been looking out for you all this time.

➳ Characters: songwriter!Taesan x songwriter!female reader/you

➳ Genre: coming of age, high school au, music industry au, colleagues au, roommates au, second chances, mostly hurt/comfort with fluff and angst scenes too

➳ Words: 18.4k

➳ Warning: mentions of losing weight, lack of hunger, food, drinks, cursing, minor character death, grandparents' health deteriorating, emotionally unavailable parents, funeral, dieting, period

➳ A/N: The story's structure is present-past-present as indicated by the timers in caps lock. Places, names and characters are fictitious, and Taesan's birthname is used in the story.

➳ Dedicated to: @dat-town I love you more than words could explain❤️

PRESENT

You felt like you were in a daze these past few days; sleepwalking through days and not grasping reality around you. You felt like you were stuck in this limbo, this state of being and not being at the same time, lack of hunger chasing lack of interest, nightmares following sleepless nights. Sunrise was no better than sunset, and even if you saw the world around you in a brighter colour for a moment, you were pulled back into darkness the next.

You didn’t even dare look into the mirror for you would see the dark circles under your eyes, accompanied by their puffiness that didn’t seem to go away because you always had another reason to cry. When it seemed like you had no more tears to cry, you were proven wrong.

There were better days, of course, when your heart was a little lighter, and you could almost pretend that you were fine. Nothing happened, sure, nothing happened. The cashier at the corner store didn’t know what you had been through. The bus driver on your way back to the dorm had no idea who you were and what you had lost. The many people walking down the streets outside your dorm’s window went about their days just fine, and all you could do was wonder how they did it. It felt like such a distant phenomena to you; the art of being okay, or at least, the art of pretending to be fine.

You had four days to pack up and leave. It was a slap in the face. You had been a trainee at the company for 9 years, and now you had four days to wrap it all up. Four days that tasted like forever in your state.

“You have to understand. We’ll use all of our money to fund CLIQUE’s debut, we won’t have any money for trainees.”

You had to understand, of course, but what about them? Didn’t they have to understand that it wasn’t fair that though you had come out on top in all monthly evaluations, you didn’t make the cut for CLIQUE? You were now too old to debut with a bunch of 15-19-year-old girls as a 22-year-old one. They just couldn’t have told you before, through all those months when you had kept practising, singing, writing and dancing, your muscles aching, your vocal chords hurting, your heart breaking and yet... you were just tossed to the side because you were too old.

“Everyone was in agreement that you wouldn’t fit in with the final line-up,” they said as if it was of any condolence.

It wasn’t.

So you just stared out of the window of the room you had taken up as yours, where you had written and produced hundreds of songs, oftentimes accompanied by rustling papers of snacks and plastic cups of coffee, daytime bleeding into nighttime, lighting up the streets outside the window. You had seen trees bloom and leaves wither, snow weighing down on rooftops and rain washing away anything that got in its way.

You had started out as a 13-year-old girl with big dreams and a big heart, but as time went by, your softness turned into spikes and your naivety into pessimism. You had been put into a trainee survival show at 17, one where you would have made the final line-up if the voting had not been rigged. Though it had turned into a big scandal, you had not been given a second chance. Life wasn’t fair like that. You had lost your grandfather at 19, and you hadn’t even been granted leave for more than the day you had attended his funeral. And for what? For this...

For the past three days, you could only cry. Today, you were numb, moving through the day like a ghost, collecting your stuff from every corner of the building, and hating everyone because they were so bubbly, so lively, and there you were, lost and confused and just mad.

You managed to speak to the manager at the corner store where you worked besides being a trainee, and he let you work more hours, so at least you would continue to make money. Your aunt also offered to let you stay with her till you found your footing again since they had a guest room that you could use. It was either her house with your two little cousins (Hamin who was 8 and Hajin who was 6) and your uncle or a guesthouse because your parents lived on the other side of the country, and for now, you wanted to stay in Seoul.

It was 5:53pm when you walked out of the dorm, two suitcases, a handbag and a sports bag as your company, and stepped into the bustling, noisy outside world that was so in contrast to how you felt inside. It felt like walking through mud, heavy and never-ending, and you just wanted to stop the world around you.

But it didn’t stop, and you just hated it even more.

A honking sound pulled you back to reality, and you looked up in time to see your aunt waving from her car. You grabbed your suitcases’ handles tighter and headed towards the vehicle, only to be met with your rascal little cousins who - though tried to help with your suitcases - were too little to carry so much stuff, and chattered between themselves as if you weren’t even there.

“Hey, what about greeting your lovely cousin? Maybe give her a kiss?” Your aunt reprimanded them while putting your suitcases into the trunk. You couldn’t blame them though, you had only seen them once or twice a year since they had been born, you had surely not left a lasting impact on them.

“Kissing is so embarrassing,” Hamin said in all his boyish angst and made a gurgling sound. Hajin immediately followed his example, and then, they laughed about who made the weirdest sound.

“Okay, alright, but I’ll give her a hug,” the woman announced loudly enough for the kids to hear and did as she said so. She hugged you so tight, you were surprised at first but soon loosened up. “So happy to see you, Y/N. And so sorry about what happened. You deserve so much better,” she murmured into your hair, and you felt like you could cry. It was one thing being all in your head and wondering about what happened, but it was another thing hearing someone else acknowledge it.

If it hadn’t been for your cousins’ weird noises, you would have probably cried, but you could hold it back due to the circumstances. It didn’t mean that you weren’t visibly under the weather for the duration of the car ride, so much that Hajin even asked:

“Did somebody hurt you?”

You caught your aunt’s eyes in the rearview, and she answered her daughter’s question instead of you.

“Yes, Y/N was hurt. You can’t see it, it’s not like scraping your knee, it’s more like being really sad... like when you lost your favourite plushie, you know, Duckie, on vacation, and we didn’t know whether we could find it again."

“So are we searching for her Duckie?” Hajin blinked at you with her wide, bright eyes swimming in childhood innocence, and you nodded, your voice coming out raspy.

“Yes, we can say so.”

The next few weeks were a blur. You didn’t know whether it was Monday or Friday anymore, you didn’t know whether it was November or December, you lost track of time completely. You worked your shift at the store, and you spent your nights sending out songs to agencies, ones that were looking for songwriters and producers.

Even though your dream of being an idol had been crushed, you didn’t know what else to do apart from music, so you couldn’t give up. You just didn’t want to put yourself through the same ordeal you had gone through before, and decided that with your hundreds of songs - a dozen of those had actually been used by your previous agency’s girl group who had left the company after their 7-year contract was up and a few other up-and-coming artists -, you would give it a try.

To no avail.

Until one day, you got an email from KOZ, saying that they found your Soundcloud account, and they would like to hear a few more of your recent songs. You were so perplexed at first that you assumed that it was a scam, and didn’t answer. Then, you got another email, and decided to give it a try after checking that the email address matched with their Talent Development team’s official email address.

Then, it was all a blur again. You were called in for a personal interview, then a few days later, you were offered a fixed 1-year contract with the possibility of extension if you proved yourself to be talented and working well with their artists. Then came the usual legal stuff, the NDAs and the tour around the company, the many new faces and the many new introductory meetings.

You were in the middle of your first week at the company when you decided to test a few of its equipment and book a room for yourself. They said that all rooms that were in the system were free to take, so you randomly chose one, and walked into it at the assigned time slot, only for it to be scattered with a few oddly specific things. There was a worn-out notebook with pages torn out and put back in again on the desk beside a black cat figure, a half-empty coffee cup, a box of napkins and a black leather jacket thrown over the revolving chair in front of the desk.

You tilted your head in confusion and you were about to see if you were actually in the right room when someone walked into the place, and you froze on the spot.

The same jet-black eyes, the same jet-black locks, the same lanky figure, and the same galaxies in his dark orbs, ones that you could have gotten lost in back in high school. You felt them draw you in now, but your shock was greater than your amazement, so they didn’t get you this time.

“Oh… Dongmin, you…” You croaked out, not finding your voice at first. “Dongmin, what are you doing here?” You asked more confidently now, and there was an almost amused tilt to his lips as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I could ask you the same thing, Y/N,” the way he said your name sent a chill down your spine, and you were almost about to say that you were happy to see him, but his next comment made you backtrack. “Plus, to you, it’s Taesan sunbae.”

Taesan? Hmm, that was new.

Either way, the way he said ‘sunbae’ was the part that got to you more. You didn’t know whether you should roll your eyes or pin him to the ground with your unamused stare, but you didn’t appreciate the wording.

“I’ve been a trainee longer than you have.”

“But I’ve been here longer than you have,” he pointed out matter-of-factly, and sure, you could not argue with that because you didn’t know how long he had been at KOZ.

“How long have you been here? You were still at Seoul Sirens last time I checked,” you inquired, keeping your voice even, but you were actually very curious how he had ended up here.

You had been with him when he had been accepted into Seoul Sirens back in high school; you remembered how he had tried to seem unaffected because he had always said that he would get in, but he couldn’t hide his proud smile for the rest of the day. Truthfully, it had probably started for you back then; growing fond of him, that is.

Dongmin pushed himself off the frame and diminished the distance between you two in two long strides. You looked up at him, and though your frequent blinking probably gave you away, you tried to appear as unaffected by his proximity as possible. After all, Dongmin could not have wanted anything from you after your goodbye. There was no way he would still like you.

“Oh, you did check?” He quirked an eyebrow teasingly, bending his back, so that he could be at eye-level with you, searching for something in your eyes that you couldn’t decipher, but you just couldn’t tear your gaze away.

How much you wished to see him again after all those years, to look into his eyes and to hear from him that you would surely make it, and now that your wish was granted, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. It had been four years, why was your heart still racing?

Whatever Dongmin wanted to find in your eyes, he either didn’t succeed or he chose not to comment on it. Instead, he actually answered your question.

“Well, yeah. I was there for almost 4 years, and I switched afterwards, so it’s been around a year and a half here,” he explained, and you hummed. It was true that you had been looking him up more frequently after graduation and not so much in the recent year, so that could explain why you didn’t know about him working at KOZ.

“This is my studio, by the way,” he added, pulling you out of your thoughts, and now the randomly scattered objects seemed fitting. Especially the black cat figure.

“They’ve told me that the rooms that can be booked in the system are free to take,” you justified before he wanted to call you out on taking his place.

“Technically, yes, but it’s still my studio.”

There was no malice in his voice, no accusations, but whether he wanted to show off or just defend his stance, you couldn’t tell. It had been four years since you had last seen each other, and it seemed that you couldn’t read him as easily as you did before.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” you held up your hands as a sign of peace offering, and you walked around him to get to the door. You were almost outside when he called after you.

“Wait…” You turned around immediately, though if anyone asked, you wouldn’t know what you were hoping to hear from him. Nevertheless, you were still hoping, only for him to crash it with a simple:

“Nevermind. I’ll tell you another time,” he shook his head, and stepped up to his computer to restart it. He still turned around to watch the door close behind you, just like four years ago, when you had said your goodbye.

(He wanted to tell you that he was so happy to see you, and that he did see your name in the booking system, that’s why he left his producing room before coming back at the start of your time slot, so that he could bump into you.

Alas, words betrayed him, so he said nothing, just watched you leave like the fool he was.)

PAST

Han Dongmin was every girls’ high school crush. Tall, handsome and rumoured to be dreaming of a songwriter career, meaning that he was good with words. In his songs, at least. The reason most girls gave up on courting him was because he was awfully shy around girls, and barely talked to them. Except you.

Maybe it’s because you two were the only ones at your very much ordinary high school who dreamed of working in the music industry, and it bonded you, but still, he talked to you, but most of the time, you didn’t know what to do about it. Still, it fluttered you like it would flutter any 16-year-old girl who experienced what it meant to look forward to seeing a boy day after day for the first time, to get lost in his jet-black eyes, and to squeal a little when he got you some snacks from the corner store during lunch break because he said that you had seemed to lost some weight.

Dongmin’s parents were very supportive of his dreams, and he had his own producing software and kit at home before you even dared to use your agency’s resources. Maybe it stung a bit as well, the fact that his parents were so supportive when yours didn’t seem to care. Whilst it was better that they didn’t care than if they were against it, they were pretty distant either way ever since they sent you to live with your grandparents in Seoul, so that they could focus on work back home. So really, what were you expecting?

It wasn’t rare for kids to grow up beside their grandparents, and living in Seoul allowed you to chase your dreams, but at times, you wondered why they even had you if you had been living with your grandparents ever since you had been 6, meaning that you had already started elementary school in Seoul. As opposed to your parents, your grandparents always, always told you to dream big because they would be there to support you. Your grandmother had been there to hold your hand when you had auditioned for agencies, and she had cooked up the biggest feast you had ever seen when you had gotten in.

Then, your grandfather had been admitted into a nursing home after he started having trouble walking, and your grandmother had followed - mostly because she hadn’t wanted him to go alone. You had been 16 at the time, and though they would have let you live in their own flat, you had decided to move into the agency’s dormitory, so the empty flat wouldn’t remind you of the time you had spent there for nearly a decade.

So you started the first year of high school already living in the dorms, visiting your grandparents weekly at the nursing home without fail, restlessly chasing your dreams, and that’s when Dongmin showed up. He was there from day one, really, probably because he heard you say you were a trainee when you were doing the mandatory introductions during homeroom, and you defended his dream of becoming a songwriter when some douchebag thought it was funny to make a joke about how ridiculous kpop songs were, no one needed another one.

After a while, he seemed to be the first constant in your ever-changing landscape, and though you didn’t dare to show it, you were always looking for him in the hallways.

One day after school though, he was the one who came looking for you. You were packing up your stuff in the already half-empty classroom when he plopped down in the chair in front of yours.

“Hey!” Dongmin said casually as if you had not already spent lunch break together and talked about his favourite MCR songs in fourth break.

“Hey,” you greeted him back, waiting for him to say something because he always had something to say when his eyes were darting around the room like that; he was looking at anything but your face.

You finished zipping up your bag when he finally blurted out what he wanted to say.

“Can you help me choose out two songs to send in for an audition?”

To say that you were surprised would be an understatement. Though you had talked about music, auditioning and your trainee experience, he had never shared his songs with you before. To be precise, he always mentioned that ‘he was working on a song’ or that ‘he was trying this new technique with this song’, but he had never shown you his actual songs before. You didn’t push him because though you were a trainee, you knew that you weren’t an actual judge of quality when it came to songs.

Besides, Dongmin didn’t look like the type to just show anyone what he was working on, so the fact that he asked you to help him choose songs that he would use for auditioning was a big thing in your eyes.

“Of course,” you replied within a heartbreak, and you almost facepalmed yourself for being so overeager. Dongmin, on the other hand, merely smiled coyly - a rare sight from him -, and told you that he would send over the audio files, so you could listen to them whenever you saw fit.

“You don’t have to do this today or this weekend. It’s perfectly fine if you get back to me within a week,” he clarified hastily as if he was asking you to listen to days worth of audio files.

“Dongmin, it’s only six songs we’re talking about,” you reminded him with an amused smile, and the tip of his ears turned red. Your features softened at the sight, and something was pulling at your heartstrings. This meant a lot to him, you could tell, and of course, you could understand because you had been just as nervous to sing your audition songs to your grandparents in their living room.

“Besides, I’m really curious,” you admitted, and now it was your turn to blush. Gosh, you two really found each other with your teenage awkwardness and inability to hold a conversation without one of you flushing.

The boy cleared his throat before muttering, without even looking into your eyes:

“I hope you’ll like them.”

And you did. Though it was definitely odd to hear him sing about kissing ‘you’ and going crazy because of ‘you’ and other love-related lines (you just had to tease him about it when you gave your feedback), his songs were good. Not just lyrics or production-wise, but his voice was so good, too. It sounded different from his usual speaking tone, but there was this unique edge to his singing voice, and you didn’t tell him, but you didn’t listen to the songs just once. You kept listening to them when you wanted to shut out the hustle-bustle of the dorms, when you were commuting between the school and the agency, and you even showed them to your grandparents when you visited them in the nursing home.

And when Dongmin got into Seoul Sirens with the two songs you had chosen, you were ecstatic. He tried to hide his smile when he walked into the classroom that day, but you could tell something was up. He told you during the first break, on the rooftop of the school building with only the two of you there, and you couldn’t tell what took hold of you, but you found yourself hugging him out of joy.

“I’m so happy for you,” you squealed excitedly, and only let go of him when you realised how abrupt it must have seemed to him. Dongmin did seem shy and a bit awkward, but he seemed thankful as well.

In that moment, like a bright flash crossing the sky, you knew that you would like him to be happy, and you would like to be happy for him for a long time.

The survival show started during summer break between the first and second year of high school, but the last month overlapped with the first month of the new school year.

Since your teachers weren’t lenient with you because it wasn’t an arts high school where most students were trainees or already debuted idols, your attendance mattered, so you tried to squeeze in as many classes as you could without it affecting your preparation for the weekly performances. Dongmin was more eager than ever to seek out your company and he was the one who gave you notes when you were away. Though you always found it adorable that he had the handwriting of a middle school kid, now you were thankful that you could read everything.

Though it was tiring to juggle everything at the same time, and you couldn’t even see your grandparents in the meantime because you usually visited them over the weekend, and the show was on Saturday while you usually slept through Sunday, you pulled through. You were so close to making your dreams come true, you could almost feel it.

Then, of course, shit happened. Two weeks before the final show, you gave your best performance yet. You sang ‘Sudden Shower’, and the judges were thoroughly impressed, even joking that you looked like you sang from the bottom of your heart. Though you did neither confirm, nor deny it, rumour got out the next day that you were dating a boy at school, and though his face was blurred, the photos showed you and Dongmin walking out of school together, talking in the hallways and sitting beside each other at the canteen. You didn’t know who took them because you didn’t have enemies, but it was surely a classmate, and someone who didn’t wish you well.

When you went to school the following Monday, you asked Dongmin to meet you on the rooftop as it seemed like the safest option for you right now. You were fuming, but you didn’t want to let it show because you didn’t want to stir more drama. After all, anything could matter so close to the final show.

You let out a long sigh when you got to the rooftop. You looked around to check if it was just you two, but it seemed like it. One could never know these days though, it seemed.

Dongmin didn’t look differently than his usual self, but you had a feeling that he did see the rumours. Truthfully, when it came to anything survival show-related, he was already aware of it before you told him, so he must have been up-to-date with all kinds of news. That’s why you weren’t afraid to start with a statement:

“Dongmin, you have to tell them that we aren’t dating.”

“Why? They wouldn’t believe me,” he just shrugged his shoulders, and though he might have been right and he was usually this laid-back, you didn’t appreciate his calm and almost unbothered state under the circumstances.

“Why?” You felt your voice rise, something that was unlike you, especially towards Dongmin. You just couldn’t hold it back, hold yourself back anymore. “I’m currently on a survival show, and dating you might impact my chances to debut!”

Anything could impact your chances to debut. A contestant had been eliminated right after leaving an honest and constructive feedback about the show’s current no. 1 trainee, and another had been accused of being a bully back in middle school, and it got so bad that the girl had voluntarily left the show. You watched it happen stoically, blaming it on the competitive nature of this industry, but now that you were the victim, you wished you could be as cool-headed as before.

Dongmin leaned against the nearest rail, his hands in his pockets, his head hanging low. You just didn't get how he could act like this when he knew how desperately you wanted to make it, to make your dreams come true.

“Well, the fans who don’t want you in the debut group because you’re dating someone aren’t real fans,” he broke the silence, his voice neutral at best.

If you had been angry before, you would have been fuming now. You didn't even think of playing nice anymore, you just let it all out. Like a volcano that suddenly erupted, you let the words chase each other before you even thought about their impact.

“Argh, Dongmin, don’t you get it? Whether it’s a dating scandal, a bullying one or some weird edited photos emerging about me, it doesn’t matter which one, it’s going to have an impact. Even if it’s true, even if it’s not. You might want to be just a songwriter, but I want to be an idol who’s out in the public eye all the time.”

Dongmin snapped his head back to look at you, to look you in the eye, and for a moment, you thought he might understand. For a moment, you thought that it would be alright again, that the world would tilt back into balance, and he would be on your side again.

You were wrong though.

“Just a songwriter?” He repeated in disbelief, and if it had not been for him emphasising your wording, you would have not realised what you had just said. Obviously, you didn’t want to underestimate the role of songwriters, you merely wanted to show the contrast between someone who was out in the public eye and someone who was working behind the scenes, but you knew the moment he emphasized those words that you had lost this argument. Even if you tried to save it, it would be in vain.

“Dongmin, I didn’t mean-”

“Can’t wait for the time I will be the one writing songs for you,” he cut you off, and let out a snort. You had never seen him act like that, not towards you at least, and it scared you so much that you watched him walk away without calling after him, without him stopping at all.

Just like that, the volcano swept across the rooftop, and all it left in its wake was destruction.

You thought that you had lost Dongmin right then and there on the rooftop.

He had done his fair share though. Two days later, he had announced in the class group chat that you weren't dating him, and that everyone should refrain from making such allegations until checked with the parties involved. In a way, you were relieved because he did what you had asked him to, but it hurt that he didn't even reach out or want to meet you in the next couple of days.

However, you were too weary to care and too anxious to let something like further proof emerge, so you didn't seek out his company either. You didn't mind, you had your full focus on the show and practising, so you went straight to the company after classes and straight to the broadcast station for contestant-related duties. It was easier this way, you told yourself, it was better this way.

Though you couldn't help but feel thankful that the boy did send you a good luck text before the final show, something that you almost immediately replied to. It didn’t soothe your frazzled nerves, but you thought that it might be a kind of peace offering, and it reassured you a bit. At least that part of your life wasn’t a mess anymore.

Then, all at once, you felt like your world lost its axis and stopped spinning. It stilled, frozen in time and place, frozen in that moment when your name wasn’t called, when you couldn’t join the already announced members of the debut group, when you weren’t there hugging the other girls and shedding happy tears.

Because you didn’t make it.

You were so close to it, so close to making your dreams come true, you could practically taste the sweetness of success, and yet, the last step was missing from the ladder bridging fantasy and reality, and you fell into the pits of darkness beneath your feet that you tried oh so hard to ignore. You were helplessly clinging onto desperate hopes and reaching out for anything, anyone to break your fall, but to no avail. No one came to save you.

No one came to shelter you, to take you away from all the guilt, to keep you back from replaying your mistakes and slip-ups, to stop you from wondering about the what ifs. No one came to take your side against the agency and the other trainees who gave you belittling glances and looked at you as if you had been eliminated from the get-go. No one came to console you at school when you showed up for the first time after the show ended. Instead, everybody was staring and telling stories with their eyes or whispering behind your back. You didn’t know which one was worse.

No one came until Dongmin did.

You were on the rooftop like always when you needed some fresh air and a place to be away from the hustle-bustle of the busy classrooms and packed corridors. You were picking on a loose strand of your school uniform, your fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the fabric, while watching some first-year boys playing on the football field. They were playing seemingly without a care in the world, with a group of girls watching by the side and giggling over something between themselves.

All that childhood innocence, that carefree attitude was something that you envied because you never had it, you never had the chance to have it. And for what? For this? For sitting on the rooftop all alone because you didn’t have time to make friends and you even messed it up with Dongmin, and now even your dreams were crushed for the foreseeable future, and you didn’t know what else to do because that’s all you had been working for. You weren’t talented in anything other than music and dancing. Turns out you weren’t even talented enough in them…

You heard the rooftop’s creaking door signalling the arrival of another person, but you didn’t turn around to see who it was. You just hoped that whoever came up would leave soon, but when footsteps neared you, you turned your head the other way, not wanting anyone to see you in your state. To see the dark circles under your eyes, the puffiness of your face, the hollowness in your heart.

“Y/N…”

You would be able to recognise Dongmin’s voice anywhere, but instead of the butterfly wing-like heart flutters he usually triggered in you, now, all that was left was a squeezing feeling that made you want to gasp for air. You had to hold back a sob that was threatening to surface because he was still there, still calling your name even after everything when you deserved none of this.

“Y/N, look at me!” The boy asked you gently, something that he had never needed to ask before, but right now, you wished nothing but to hide.

Still, a tiny part of you decided to obey, and you turned towards him, but the moment you did so, and saw a guttural, vulnerable kind of empathy in his eyes, something that you had never seen before, something in you broke into tiny little pieces, the walls crumbling down around your closely guarded heart.

And just like that, the tears spilled again like a river, your vision blurring. The way the sobs surfaced was anything short of planned, it was some kind of inexplicable human need within you, something that you had no control over anymore, something that had been poking at you for the past few days, but you had tried to hold it in. You were stronger than this, you were better than this, and yet…

And yet… Dongmin didn’t look at you any differently. It would have been better if he had pitied you, thrown you disgusted glances or called you out on your sappy behaviour. It would have hurt less because that’s what you had been used to.

“Why aren’t you leaving?” You blurted out between two sobs. “I’m a mess,” you added as you reached to wipe away a few freshly shed tears.

Dongmin looked slightly to the side, and you were like, that’s it, this is when he would leave, but instead, he looked back at you, and took a step closer to you. Slowly, he reached his hand out, but it was hovering a few centimetres from your face. You weren’t sure whether it was because of your blurred vision, but it seemed like his hand was shaking slightly before he dared to touch your face. His touch was feather-like, gentle, despite the calluses on his hand, spreading warmth across your body, signalling to your brain that he was there, someone was really there to ground you.

“You aren’t a mess. You’re just hurt,” he spoke up so quietly that his words almost got lost in the cacophony of the world around you. Almost. You held onto them desperately, holding them close to your heart, and while he was wiping your tears away, he was wiping away the bandages over your broken heart, your most hidden thoughts spilling out.

“Apparently, I’m not enough, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be enough,” you croaked out, your voice coming out hoarse and raw.

He looked at you with so much emotion, so much care, so in contrast to his usual nonchalant attitude that your head was spinning, your brain was telling you to stop and leave him behind because you didn’t deserve him. Yet, your heart was there to hold onto him and his words and the galaxies in his eyes.

“You’re already enough, and those who didn’t vote for you can go to hell.”

You wished you could say that it was enough to hear this, but it wasn’t. There was something heavier weighing on you.

“What am I supposed to do now, Dongmin?” You asked him, the universe, anyone who cared to listen. “It’s already been four years, I feel like I’m slowly running out of time, and I have no idea what else to do. I can’t do anything else. I’m just… I’m just so lost.”

Your sobs reverberated through your whole body, and you closed your eyes to let the tears fall freely. You were shaking, internally breaking down, while Dongmin took another step closer to you, and a few seconds later, you found yourself embraced by him - tentatively at first but more and more tightly as seconds passed by. You sobbed into his chest, into the thin material of his school uniform, leaving wet stains on the white shirt like petals scattered in the wind.

“You’ve done well, Y/N,” he whispered like a secret, and if anything, you just sobbed harder.

Dongmin held onto you tighter, safe and steady, and though you had lost so many things in the past couple of weeks - years of practising that you could have spent making friends or studying harder, a dream that could have come true just in time for you to not think about giving up, your confidence seeing the results and a huge part of yourself -, at least, you didn’t lose him.

Everything and nothing changed at the same time after the survival show.

Though your confidence had taken a hit, it was a sickly twisted turn of events that the show turned out to be rigged. Just like the X1 scandal before, the final line-up had been rigged, a few entertainment company CEOs paying the production team to make sure their trainees would be part of the debut group. However, the news got out pretty quickly, so the debut group didn’t even have the chance to debut. They were back to square one just like you were. Turns out you would have been a part of the original line-up, ranked 6.

Your company tried to put a positive spin on it, and let you film a cover video that was later uploaded onto their Youtube channel, but it didn’t get the views they wanted, so they gave up on posting more about you.

At least, that meant that they didn’t work you to the bone, and you had time to focus on school. You did train diligently too, but the way this whole thing turned out made you realise that sometimes you couldn’t control the results of your efforts, so why lose yourself in the meantime? Not to mention that the company wasn’t looking to debut a girl group soon.

Dongmin was also training, taking lessons at Seoul Sirens where they had a two-year programme specifically for talented songwriter and producer-wannabes, and he was the youngest one who made it. You were so proud of him, and you were rooting for him so much that seeing him so enthusiastic made you want to learn about songwriting and producing, too. Though you had the equipment at the company and you could have asked for lessons, somehow, as a girl, you were offered neither. It was more acceptable for guys and especially rappers to write their own lyrics, and you were neither of those.

Dongmin was suspicious at first, not knowing why you wanted him to show you the ropes, but he didn’t protest. You had a feeling though that your argument on the rooftop was still engraved into him or maybe he just wanted to be careful, but instead of inviting you to their company building, he invited you over to his parents’ house where he had his own equipment.

The impressive set-up wasn’t your favourite thing about his closet-sized studio room though.

“No way you have a Jiji figure!” You pointed out the object on his table, the cute cat character from Kiki’s Delivery Service in all its glory. It even had a red ribbon around its neck.

“Apparently, I look like a black cat. According to my sister, at least,” Dongmin shrugged nonchalantly, but the way he shared it with you said that he didn’t actually mind being compared to the fictional animal. Otherwise, he would surely not have it on his table, let alone beside his computer in his own little studio.

That was the thing about Dongmin: though he said one thing, his actions advocated for something else. You had a feeling that he was just trying to hide his real feelings, or he felt like he needed to act all cool and tough, but you didn’t mind his behaviour. You saw all those shy smiles, awkward glances and secretly cute gestures that others didn’t even have the chance to see.

You cracked a smile at the black cat comment before you were offered to take a seat. Though Dongmin quickly realised that there was only one chair for the two of you, so he brought a chair from his own room just in time for his mother to come inside the studio with a plate of freshly cut fruit.

“Here. Have some of these,” the woman offered with a wide, kind smile as she put the plate on the table. This was the first time you officially met her apart from the times you saw her at school, so you quickly introduced yourself. “So nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you,” she chirped excitedly after your greeting, her excitement genuine, but Dongmin looked like he wanted to dig a hole for himself right then and there.

“Oh really?” You asked back as you glanced in the boy’s direction who was fixated on his monitor, staring at it as if his life depended on it.

“Yes,” she bobbed her head. “It’s so good to finally meet you. You’re the first girl Dongmin brought home.”

“Oh, mom, please,” the boy grunted and looked at his mother as if he was willing to do literally just about anything to not have this conversation. Her mother got the signal and imitated zipping her lips before she prompted you once again to have some of the fruit. Then, she left you two alone, and though you caught sight of the tip of his ears turning red, you didn’t comment on it, you just smiled to yourself.

Dongmin recovered quickly, and changed into his professional mode, explaining techniques and beats and layers as if he had been doing this all his life. You brought a notebook with yourself, so you jotted down what he was saying, and if you weren’t writing, you were focused on the screen in front of you. He was patient with you, and you swore you could listen to him talk all day.

“Any questions?” Dongmin inquired at one point, and you turned your head to look at him instead of the monitor, only to realise that you were closer than you had expected.

There were only a few centimetres between your faces, and from up-close, you could see the slight blemishes, the last remains of acne scars and a few moles dotting his skin. From up-close, you could see the exact shade of his eyes and the way his lips stretched into lines. From up-close, you could see the pink hue that creeped onto his cheeks, a sight that would have made you crack a smile if your face hadn’t mirrored his.

“Uhm… nope,” you croaked out as you leaned back into the chair, your heart thrumming wildly in your ribcage.

Though you didn’t have such a close interaction for the rest of your little session, you would never be able to forget that feeling of looking into his eyes so closely, mapping out his features, engraving the sight of them into your memory, so that you could always come back to this very moment, to feeling so thrilled, shy and so endeared all at the same time.

Summer break meant that you had more time to yourself. Practising was one thing, but now that you didn’t have school and the company’s girl group was having a comeback, so they occupied the practise rooms during the day, you had a lighter schedule compared to last year when you were preparing for the survival show and then auditioning for it.

This also meant that you spent your free time messaging Dongmin, having a few more sessions in his little studio much to his mother’s joy, and hanging out a few times. You were careful, wearing masks when you could, because you knew how nasty people could be even about pre-debut photos and scandals, and you didn’t want history to repeat itself with your dating rumour. Though you were nowhere near debuting, you wanted to live your trainee life as drama-free as possible, and Dongmin didn’t protest either because he also knew the risks.

You went to the cinema a few times, you hung out by the Han River, and you went to a karaoke bar to sing your heart out. Surprisingly, the boy enjoyed singing trot songs, and you enjoyed watching him doing so. That was the thing about him: whatever he did, you could immediately tell if he enjoyed it or despised it, it was written all over his face. Plus, when he did enjoy it, the sight made your heart flutter, a smile immediately making its way onto your face.

If you hadn’t been sure before that you liked him, you would have been made aware of it by all those fleeting moments between you two during the summer when your hands touched while reaching for the same ramen at the supermarket, when you were standing close to each other on the metro, when you glanced at him only to see him already staring at you, when he willingly shared stories about his childhood, when he complimented the summer dress you wore to the cinema once, when he gave you his jacket while you were walking back from Han River after sunset, and when he walked you back to the dorms because “it wasn’t safe for girls to be alone at night”.

When he suggested going to an open concert one weekend, you said that you couldn’t go because you were visiting your grandparents at the nursing home. He knew about your grandparents, and he never got mad when you said that you would see them instead of meeting him.

This time though, he offered to go with you, and though you couldn’t understand why he would spend his time with your grandparents at a nursing home over going literally anywhere else, you didn’t reject the idea. Your grandparents heard a lot about him either way.

One thing that you didn’t expect was for them to call you out on it right after Dongmin introduced himself as you were sitting outside in the home’s garden. The garden was one of their favourite places to be at, though the communal rooms came close.

Your grandfather was in the nursing section of the home while your grandmother was in the independent living section as they needed different levels of care, so they didn’t share a room. However, they could still spend as much together as it was possible when your grandfather didn’t need a nurse to care for him. At first, he only needed a cane to walk, but then, his pain intensified so much that he was put into a wheelchair. On the other hand, his arms were still fully functional, so he could feed himself, read books, watch TV and hug you when you visited, but for bathing, for instance, he needed assistance.

“Oh, is he the boy whose songs you showed us?” Your grandmother inquired with a cunning smile, and now you understood what Dongmin must have felt when his mother had spilled the beans that you had been the first girl he brought home.

“Yes, he’s that boy,” you admitted because it was futile to deny, but you didn’t dare meet his eyes. You had never told him that you showed your grandparents his songs, and though you didn’t think he would be mad, you still felt terribly embarrassed.

“How wonderful! We’re fans of yours,” your grandmother chirped gleefully, and now you looked at the boy to look for his reaction. Dongmin immediately got shy, his hands covering his mouth while he was trying to hide his smile, his ears turning red.

“Ah thank you, but I still have a long way to go,” he refuted sheepishly, and it was such a cute sight, you wished that you had brought him here more often before.

“Nonsense. You’re already so talented!”

“You’re making that poor boy so embarrassed. Let’s talk about something else!” Your grandfather suggested with a knowing glance in your direction. He knew just how hang up his wife could be when she really got into something, and despite his physical health deteriorating, mentally, he was still very well. You were really grateful for that.

So you talked about the drama they were watching on TV in the communal room, the book your grandmother was reading, and that awful lunch they had served the other day. Dongmin listened attentively, kindly asking questions and being interested in the storyline of their new favourite TV show even though you knew he didn’t watch those. You had seen before that he treated his younger siblings well, and it had truly warmed your heart, but now seeing him interact with your elderly grandparents, you were really, really touched. You felt a kind of warmth that made you feel all fuzzy and hopeful and beaming.

As expected, then came the embarrassing childhood stories about you, the time you had performed Gee in your grandparents’ living room, or when the corner store owner’s son had confessed to you with a pink lollipop, only for you to reject him because you were set on being an idol, and idols didn’t date.

“Can you imagine? She was only 8 back then, the boy was 7, and she said ‘idols don’t date’ as if she was twice her age, already in training,” your grandmother recalled with a chuckle, but Dongmin liked the story so much that he laughed out loud, hitting his thighs with his hands.

Your face, on the other hand, was resembling a tomato’s.

“Grandpa, you should tell her not to share embarrassing stories about me like you did at the beginning!”

“It’s not an embarrassing story. It’s cute,” he corrected you gleefully, but your shock must have been written on your face because Dongmin started laughing even more.

A few hours and a few more embarrassing stories later, you announced that it was time to go as their dinner time was nearing. You excused yourself to use the restroom, and when you came back, they seemed to be in a deep discussion, the boy bobbing his head like an obedient child. When you asked what they talked about, they just shushed you.

Even Dongmin didn’t tell you when it was just the two of you, heading to the bus stop. You shook your head, giving up on inquiring about the matter, and let a comfortable kind of silence fall over the two of you. It stretched into the early minutes of the bus ride until you decided to break it.

“Thank you for being so nice to them. They seemed to have a good time,” you admitted gently, your voice suddenly feeble, as you turned towards him in the loveseat. You had never had anyone accompany you to the nursing home, and the last time you had friends over at your grandparents place’ was back in elementary school. So it meant a lot that he not only volunteered to come with you, but he got along well with them.

Dongmin’s lips curled into a smile that was inexplicable in the best way possible; it was a mixture of gentle, empathetic and genuine. It was somewhere between ‘thank you’ and ‘you’re welcome’, friendly support and something more than that.

“Thanks for letting me tag along,” he bobbed his head, keeping the eye-contact for a few more seconds before adding: “I’m glad you have them, they love you a lot.”

“They really do,” you croaked out, suddenly finding it hard to speak up.

Sometimes you were jealous of his family; how his parents supported him, even letting him have his own little studio, how his little sister adored him, how his little brother teased him, and how he always had home-made meals to come back to. On the other hand, you were super thankful that you had grandparents who supported you from your very first audition to the last, how they had voted for you at the survival show, and the decade you had spent living with them was the best period of your life.

Even though it was different now, not different bad, just different, you were sad that those days were gone, but happy that they were still there for you. Sometimes someone’s presence was more than enough, and it didn’t just apply to them, but to Dongmin too who was there beside you now as he had been beside you for two years already.

Senior year rolled by in no time, and while your company was busy recruiting new trainees, so they could start planning for their new girl group - hopefully including you -, you were busy studying, so that you could graduate with good enough grades. You did it more because of your grandparents than anyone else, but you didn’t mind. At least the time spent studying wasn’t time spent worrying about your monthly evaluations at the company or your grandfather’s deteriorating health.

With each month passing by, you felt more and more determined to make your dreams a reality, so that you wouldn’t mind your choice of not choosing higher education. Dongmin did decide to apply for an online degree, so that he could focus on studying music, even after he would finish his programme at Seoul Sirens and hopefully stay there to start working full-time after graduation.

The stakes were high, and the tension was palpable at school, but you and Dongmin never argued about future plans or studying for the CSAT. May it be because you both knew what being in the music industry in South Korea entailed, or may it be because you both had many ups and downs during these years, but you were thankful for the peace and comfort you felt beside him.

That didn’t mean that you weren’t dreading finishing high school. Ironically, senior year felt more like summer break to you than the break before in the sense that it felt so finite and infinite at the same time, so life-changing and ever the same, and you knew that you would look back at this time as something you would reminisce about later on.

There was just something about those rainy afternoons when you ran after the bus together while chuckling or those early mornings you spent on the rooftop, away from the chit-chat of your classroom and the curious eyes of your classmates, or when you were staring at him when he wasn’t looking, trying to engrave his features into your memories.

Your feelings for him grew even stronger overtime, and sometimes you caught yourself wondering about the what ifs; what if you broke the rule of not dating like a rebellious teenager that you could never be or what if you left behind your dream altogether just so you could lead an ordinary life, and be with someone who made you happier than anyone else. Sometimes you let yourself be swept up in these big, strong feelings, in the daydreaming, in alternative versions of yourself and your life.

Yet, when it was time to say goodbye to your high school years together, you still chose your dream above him.

You were standing on the rooftop one last time, looking at the happy families gathering below, wondering why your own parents couldn’t take a day off to attend your graduation. Your grandparents offered to come by, but you told them they didn’t have to because the nursing home was further away and you didn’t want to inconvenience them. Even your aunt and uncle offered, but since they had two small children at home, you also didn’t want them to bother coming.

You heard the door to the rooftop creak open, but no sound of footsteps followed.

“Are you going to just stand there?” You asked without turning around to see who it was, but you had a very strong and sure feeling about the identity of the sudden visitor. When he cleared his throat, and the sound of his footsteps finally reverberated through the space, you knew that you were right. It was so funny how easily you could tell that it was him.

Or rather heartbreaking.

“I was just passing by,” Dongmin reasoned nonchalantly as he halted beside you.

“Sure,” you hummed, a lopsided smile plastered onto your face. One just didn’t pass by the rooftop by mistake, especially not on the day of their graduation when their family was waiting for them downstairs.

You just stood there in silence, looking at the crowd beneath your feet, and though you didn’t know what went through his head, you had a feeling that he was feeling the same way. This was the end of a chapter, but the beginning of a new story. Somewhere else, with someone else, doing something else.

Dongmin cleared his throat a few seconds later, and you snapped your head back to look at him when he did so. With the miniature version of you reflected in his orbs, your past and present self collided, flashbacks replacing one another as you stared into his deep, dark eyes. You had stood here beside him so many times before, but now, it felt so final, so bitter. This would be the last time.

This was the last time.

“I’ve just… wanted to say that you did a good job, and congrats on graduating,” he said it in one go, his face solemn despite a slight smile that was making its way onto his lips.

“Congratulations to you, too!” You found yourself saying, you found yourself smiling even though it took everything in you not to shed a tear.

“And thank you… for the past three years,” he blurted out, surprising you and probably himself as well because he ended up scratching the back of his neck after his confession. Something that he did only when he was shy. “I don’t think I would have enjoyed coming to school as much if it weren’t for you,” he admitted with a low chuckle, and you followed suit.

“You know, you actually sound like you like me,” you joked around and you reached out to push his shoulder gently, watching the emotions dance in his eyes like an ever-changing landscape. At first, you saw the same kind of cheeriness that you did when you were teasing each other, then it turned into something bitter before it settled at a curious kind of seriousness.

“Well…” Dongmin took a step closer to you, diminishing the last bit of distance between you two. It reminded you of that first producing session with him in his studio, when you had first been this close to each other. And you hated how you felt the same kind of butterfly-wing thrills. “Do you like me?”

You heard the emphasis in the question, but you decided to disregard it for your own sake. If anyone asked you years later, you would say that it was one-sided, even though his answer was hidden in his question, and your answer was hidden in your own statement.

“I can’t like you, you know that.”

This much was true, you weren’t lying, and yet, this was not enough for Dongmin. Though you saw hesitation flash across his orbs, he didn’t stop, both figuratively and literally, now standing so close to you that you could place a breath onto his lips if you weren’t careful.

God knows that you were good at being careful at all times.

“I didn’t ask if you could like me. I asked if you do like me.”

Seconds felt like an eternity, your heart a mayhem, your surroundings now quiet and distant, while you were wondering how to answer his question. Maybe that was just the way things went for you; you constantly needed to lose parts of yourself to rebuild yourself, so that you would be able to build up your own Babylon. Even Gods sinned, and you were just a mere human, but why did it feel like poison when the lie rolled off your tongue?

“I don’t like you, Dongmin, and I think it’s best if we put an end to it now. So that no one else misunderstands.”

It felt like the words came out of your mouth without your consent, but there was no other way to end this. You had already lost so much that you clung onto your dreams now more than ever, and you wouldn’t even be able to have school as an excuse to meet with him moving forward. It was better for both of you if you ended it here.

It had to be.

“Goodbye, Dongmin,” you breathed out, pulling the trigger on the gun, and though you heard him call after you while you were walking away, you didn’t look back.

Nor did you look back for the years afterwards.

(Dongmin, on the other hand, felt like he watched that door close behind you a hundred times - not just right then, but in his dreams (nightmares), in his memories and in moments when the line between reality and fantasy faded, and he always, always wished that you would still be a part of his reality.)

PRESENT

For the next few days, you worked in the producing room beside Dongmin’s studio. It was the one you had chosen when you had walked out of his room for the first time, and you had grown fond of it, especially because it seemed like no one really went there.

You didn’t bump into the boy during this time, but you did see the lights on, and you knew very well that Dongmin could get really engrossed into working on music, so you didn’t even want to bother him. You felt like you had both too many questions to ask and none at all. To be precise, you weren’t sure you had any right to ask him questions after you had told him to put an end to your friendship at graduation.

However, you were curious about his time at KOZ, and what he had been doing under the name ‘Taesan’, so you decided to look him up online. One of the first search results was the official KOZ website, and when you clicked on his name, you could see many of his songs being featured in different boy groups’ discographies under KOZ. He must have been busy for the past year and a half.

Though you were familiar with a few of the boybands’ title tracks, he mostly contributed to B-sides, so you decided to check them out. You were on your third track, surprised at the range of songs he contributed to, when the door to the room flew open, and you immediately paused the song, turning around in your chair in a hurry.

“Oh sorry,” Dongmin mumbled, but his face was quite nonchalant, so he didn’t really seem like he was actually sorry.

“No, it’s okay,” you justified quickly, and you tried to direct your chair towards the monitor where the song he had written was displayed. However, the boy didn’t seem to notice (or see?) what was behind you, he wasn’t really focused there.

He just stood by the door, seemingly not wanting to move, and you had this odd reassured feeling sitting in your chest. You wanted so desperately for him to stay, to talk to you, to share with you how he had been, but at the same time, you had no idea why he was just stalling there, whether it was time to call you out on your decision back in high school or not.

“Are you going to just stand there?” You asked instead because that much you actually wanted to know, and if he asked to stay, you would let him. Now, there was no reason to push him away, you were just wondering whether he actually wanted to be around you.

Dongmin’s lips twitched in a somewhat bitter manner, and you knew exactly what he was thinking even before he formed the question:

“Sounds like déjavu, isn’t it?”

You had asked the exact same question the last time you had seen each other in high school, on the rooftop you claimed as your safe haven, the day you had last seen each other before you met again. It was one thing that you remembered, but it was another thing that he remembered and he decided to bring it up.

Suddenly, you were back there, fiddling with your school uniform, watching the crowd of proud parents, wondering why yours weren’t there, and then Dongmin showed up. Just like how he did now. There were countless times you replayed that scene in your head, and played out different scenarios, but all that did was to leave you with an even wider hole in your heart.

You and Dongmin were both silent for some time, and then, he walked closer to you only to halt a step away from you. For a few seconds, he just stared at you, and you thought he was going to dive deeper into that goodbye, but instead, his eyes focused on the monitor beside you, on the way the list of songwriters was written on the screen beside the song title. You immediately turned back to the laptop to close the tab, but the damage was done, he had already seen it.

“Oh, I see someone is doing their research on this producer-songwriter named ‘Taesan’, ” he cooed, his eyebrows quirked in an amused manner. There were only a few times you wished before that you could wipe the smirk off his face, but damn puberty, and damn him for looking even more fine with that tilt of his head and that curl of his lips.

You wished the ground would swallow you up in whole because that expression on his face was enough to make you want to crawl out of your skin.

“I mean…” You cleared your throat, and you decided that it would be in vain to tell a fib, so you went with the truth. “I didn’t hear the name ‘Taesan’ before, so I was just wondering what you were up to while working here.”

“What did you find then?” Dongmin pushed, and now, he was leaning onto the table with his back, so he was watching you from the side. You tried not to let it affect you, but you were doing a terrible job at that because you even started stuttering when you spoke up.

“Well, I think it was… I mean, from what I’ve seen, you are doing well… great… doing great.”

Despite your obvious nervousness, it seemed that he was more interested in your words. He was fighting a smile, but failed, and his whole demeanor changed in his black leather jacket-black pants combo (it seemed like from last time as well that he liked this style and well… you liked it on him, too) with that smile on his face.

“What about you though? How have you been?” He threw the question at you without notice, and for a moment, you froze, all the hurt and frustration from the past two months coming back at you all at once.

Even though your aunt’s family was lovely, and the best kind of crazy and chaotic you could have asked for given your state (your little cousins were able to make you smile and laugh and your aunt was the most hospitable woman ever), your parents were of a different opinion. When you had told them the news of not making the cut for the debut group, they told you to give up on chasing your dreams and go back home instead of burdening your aunt, they could ask around for jobs for you. You had cried yourself to sleep that night.

Then, came the endless rejections from companies, the days that bled into one, the many times you checked the expiration dates on ready-to-eat products at the corner store, wondering where your life had gone wrong. You had not only been hopeless but so tired as well. So, so tired of failures, rejections, your best not being good enough. You had really been on the verge of giving up when the email from KOZ had come.

But it was so difficult to form whatever you were feeling into words, to say what was on your mind, especially when it was this life you had given up Dongmin for.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you shook your head, turning away from him. You gulped down everything that you wanted to say, and he took that as a sign to leave you.

You could hear his footsteps getting further away, but when he was by the door, he halted. You didn’t look back at him, but he probably did so.

“You know, there will always be people who can see your talent. Like I did. Like the company did,” he said loud and clear, letting the words sink in while he was walking out of the studio.

(Dongmin knew what happened. He read the debut announcement articles about CLIQUE, and saw the final line-up excluding you. He put two and two together, and that’s why he suggested for the company to check out your Soundcloud and reach out to you. He could see how talented you were, and because of him, KOZ could see it too, but maybe, this wasn’t the right time to talk about it.)

Just as you settled into KOZ, already working with their upcoming girl group on their first album, your aunt announced that they were expecting their third child.

You had kind of been expecting it due to all those medical appointments and your aunt’s behaviour, and you had already been looking for a flat for yourself because you didn’t want to burden them anymore, but this was still sudden. With the baby on the way, they were about to renovate the guest room (where you resided), and though they said it could wait for about two more months, you knew that it was time for you to go.

You knew that KOZ had some sort of discount for employees at a nearby building because a lot of their trainees lived there, but you didn’t know how it worked. When you asked around at the company, they said that Dongmin would probably be able to help, so you went to him to ask for more details, and indeed, he could help.

He knew there was a vacancy in that building, but the problem was that he knew it because it was the flat he rented; he was looking for a roommate since the previous one had moved out.

“Wouldn’t it be weird?” You asked one day after work when he showed you around the flat, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

“What?”

“Living together with me,” you broke it down to him, but you didn’t get how he didn’t think of it himself. You were a girl, he was a boy, wasn’t that kind of weird? Not to mention your shared history.

“No,” he replied simply, coolly. Sure, it was better to have a roommate you actually knew, but you were always ready to have a tense conversation with him about what had happened back then, about how you had pushed him away. You were so ready for it each and every time, but it never came. Sometimes, it seemed like you were back to your old selves: teasing each other, cracking jokes, talking about songs and discussing everyday topics, but other times, you felt like there was this unsaid tension in the air, the unanswered questions hanging above your head, weighing down on you.

“Why? Are you afraid you will end up falling for me if we start living together?” Dongmin quirked an eyebrow in question, tilting his head to the side. There was a lopsided smile in the corner of his lips, even his tone was amused.

“What? No! No way!” You vehemently shook your arms in front of your chest as a sign of your objection.

“Well then, I can’t see why not. It’s close to the company, the rent is discounted, it has everything one might need in a flat, and though the bathroom and kitchen are shared, you can lock your room, so it’s pretty good value for the money. Besides, you know that I’m a quiet person, and you know that I would never hurt you either.”

Dongmin’s monologue was pretty lengthy compared to his usual curt answers, and he might have realised that because his hand flew to the back of his head out of embarrassment. You couldn’t really argue with him, he was right about everything, and though you wouldn’t admit it, you were touched by the way he said that he would never hurt you. You knew it, you knew it all too well, but it pained you more because you had hurt him.

Nevertheless, he didn’t seem to mind the idea of sharing a flat with you, so you gave in, and from the beginning of the next month, you were roommates.

Somewhere along the way, despite your very perplexed self, this turned out to be the most efficient option. So after you packed up, your uncle helped you move and double-checked that you knew Dongmin personally before he left the flat. Your aunt was all fussy about it, sending side dishes, ginseng tea and a pack of toilet paper with you as if Dongmin lived in a flat with little to nothing in it, but apart from a raised eyebrow, you didn’t get a call-out on the apparent toilet paper in your hand.

And so it began; listening to the sounds in the corridor before you could go to the bathroom, wondering what he was doing when you saw the lights on in his room, not trying to think too much into the choice of snacks in the cupboard that was filled with your favourite ones even before you moved in, and navigating cooking, cleaning and doing laundry around him. You had lived together in one room with five other trainees before, so you knew what it was like to live with others, sharing communal areas, but it was different because it was Dongmin out of all people.

Though you didn’t want to be obvious about it, you did try to avoid him outside of work, so you ate breakfast in your room and you usually went to have dinner somewhere else, either alone or with the new songwriter girl, Lily.

This didn’t go unnoticed by the boy who was sitting by the kitchen table, slurping on some instant noodles when you got home one day, and decided to ask about it after you greeted him.

“Are you avoiding me?” He asked straightforwardly, making you halt in your steps. You stopped by the kitchen table, and you tried to fathom your most convincing smile as you looked down at him.

“No.”

“Y/N…” The way your name rolled off his tongue was gentle, yet firm. You knew that look on his face, you knew that he saw through you, but you wished that he wouldn’t push. However, with the way he kept his eyes on you, unwavering and intent, you knew that you lost this battle, and he didn’t even have to prompt you to confess to him.

“I just… I just don’t want things to be weird between us,” you admitted, chewing down on your bottom lip.

“Why does it have to be weird between us? We’ve known each other for years,” he pointed out matter-of-factly, his tone so genuine that you wanted to believe that he seriously didn’t mind sharing living together with you, but you did. The guilt was gawking at you, crawling at your skin, sending nightmares in your way, and triggering flashbacks of your time together.

You had been so afraid of Dongmin bringing it up that it had never occurred to you that you should bring it up, but now, you thought that it might be time to tell him why you were tip-toeing around him.

“It’s because of how I pushed you away four years ago. I did it without notice, without discussing it with you, and just left you there without turning back. I hurt you, and I thought that you would forever hate me for it.”

Once the confession was out, you didn’t feel relieved. Though this weighed down on you, saying the words out loud didn’t make you feel better. What’s more, you were more anxious than ever to hear his opinion, his side of the story, and you were ready to hear that it was true, that he hated you, and now that you mentioned it, it might be a terrible idea to live together, and you would lose him again.

Instead, Dongmin kept the eye-contact, but his features softened, his eyes shining more bitterly than before.

“I knew that you would push me away. I prepared myself for it.”

This was definitely not what you were expecting to hear, not at all. You were so flabbergasted that you merely looked at him wide-eyed with your lips parted, and the sight must have prompted him to continue.

“To be precise, I knew it because of your grandparents. When I went to see them with you, they gave me their phone number, and asked me to keep in touch with them. They had a feeling that you didn’t want to burden them with your worries and hardships, that you kept them to yourself, so they asked me to tell them what was really going on with you,” he started as he rose from his seat, so that he could stand in front of you. The more he talked, the more your heartbeat picked up its pace.

“When graduation was nearing, they told me that you didn’t want them to come, nor did you want your aunt and uncle to come, and that you might push me away once our school days were over. Because idols don’t date as a very smart young girl once claimed,” he continued, and there was an amused curl to his lips when he recalled what you had said at 8, and what your grandmother had told him when they had met.

Despite the fact that the thought of your grandparents always churned your heart, you found yourself smiling. It immediately faltered though when he continued with what your grandfather had told him.

“Your grandfather asked me to let you choose your dreams over me, but if your dream changed or didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to, he wanted me to reach out and to take care of you. And so I did,” he confessed, his words hiding so much more of his unsaid feelings; of the selflessness he had shown back then, of the promise he had kept to your grandpa, of the way he had always, always let you chase your dreams, even when you had asked him to deny the dating rumours and even when he had helped you learn the ropes of producing.

Despite learning to live with the grief of losing your grandfather at 19, you found yourself tearing up at the way he had taken care of you even when you had not seen it. Indeed, he had always emphasised that you should have a job that you would enjoy, that you should do what you want, that he would root for you no matter what, and the best gift you could give them was to live a happy life.

So how could you tell them when you didn’t feel enough? When your world shattered after the survival show? When your parents wanted to talk you out of your dreams? Of course you had not wanted to burden them with your hardships because you had been afraid that they would ask you to give up on your dreams, just like your parents had done. Of course you had not told them about the constant comparison, the competitiveness and the vile nature of the industry when they had closed their beloved restaurant because they had both been too old to take care of it and your father wouldn’t want to take over, and though your grandmother had never stopped cooking when you had been living together, you knew that it had not been the same for them. Of course you had not told them everything because it would make them sad, and they always said that they wanted you to be happy and healthy and see you shine on stage.

“If I hated you, do you think I would have asked the company to check out your Soundcloud or suggested we live together? If I hated you, do you think I would have followed the news of your agency, and kept in touch with your grandmother?”

Dongmin’s voice was hurried and almost desperate by the end, but with each and every word of his, your tears just fell more and more vigorously. It wasn’t enough that the reason KOZ had reached out to you was because of him, but he had also monitored you through all these years, in hopes of any news from the agency, and stayed in touch with your grandmother. The latter also meant that he must have known about your grandfather’s passing, and if anything, that just made you sob even more.

You really didn’t deserve him.

“Y/N, I know it’s been hard for you, and I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but please… don’t push me away again,” he asked, and his voice cracked by the end. Though you couldn’t see him from behind the curtain of your tears, you had a feeling that he was getting emotional. Something you had very rarely seen from him, and the fact that it was because of you, the thought of losing you… it truly broke you.

Dongmin didn’t care about you falling apart, shattered into tiny pieces, he waited until you made the first move, until you nodded and told him that you wouldn’t push him away, and that you were sorry, so very sorry, before you took a step closer to him, and he immediately embraced you.

You cried into his chest just like you had done so after the survival show, and though you felt like you had lost so many things again since that embrace on the rooftop, you were not only lost but also found. He came to find you, and you let him.

(Because Dongmin had never hated you. He never could. Though it did hurt him when you had pushed him away, he knew what being an idol meant to you. So when he saw the news of you not debuting with CLIQUE, he was just as broken as you were. It was as if his own dream was stripped away from him because in a way, it was.)

Something changed within you that day.

You had been telling yourself that Dongmin must hate you, that he must not want to tolerate it, and after a while, you had believed it. You had believed it so much that you were surprised when he told you that he actually didn’t hate you, and he asked you not to push him away. You had always felt ashamed that he had seen you at the worst, and he had been the only person who had seen you cry after the survival show, and you had convinced yourself that he would like to let go of you either way.

Yet, it was the opposite. Whilst it was difficult to grasp the reality at first, and you were afraid that this newfound trust and affection between you two would burst like a bubble at the touch of your hands, it didn’t happen. What’s more, your bond deepened as you realised that you could tell him anything, and his behaviour towards you wouldn’t change.

You told him how evil the trainees at your previous company were, how sick a lot of you had gotten while trying to live up to the expectations, how it had been living with five of them in one room while they had talked about you behind their back, how you had been working at a convenience store to make some money, and how much everything had been a blur since graduation.

You also told him what had happened at the end and how you had not made the cut for CLIQUE, how you had stayed with your aunt and how your parents had wanted you to give up on your dreams. You had also told him about your grandfather, and how you had only gotten a day off for his funeral, and you felt like life had moved on while you had been stuck in the past, feeling guilty for not spending enough time with him and wishing that he could see you shine on stage as he wanted to.

“But he did. He once told me that he was glad that he lived to see you on stage during the survival show. His favourite performance was ‘Sudden Shower’,” Dongmin explained thoroughly, and yet again, something within you broke and mended, changed in a way that only this revelation could change it.

Then, he told you that he had attended the funeral because your grandmother had asked him to come, but he had been at the back of the crowd, so you couldn’t have seen him. You had hid behind your hair, letting it cover you, letting it hide you from the curious eyes around you, from the outside world that lacked only your grandfather in it.

Dongmin squeezed your hand when you teared up at this part. Your maternal grandparents had passed away when you had been really young, so you had not gone through grief like this ever before, and sometimes you felt like you didn’t have a proper closure with your grandfather because you had been expected to move on swiftly, to go back to training like nothing had ever happened. It sucked, really, how life had just gone on when someone’s life had been taken away.

So with this newfound information, the next time you went to visit your grandmother, you asked her about everything she had kept silent about for your sake. She did so, and now everything made more sense. She even admitted that though your father was and had always been distant towards them, she felt like raising you and watching you grow into this beautiful, strong young woman made up for it.

Though your questions never seemed to stop, she was curious about your side as well, and despite the fact that you had been holding so many things back before, you knew that Dongmin had been a bridge between you and your grandmothers because of that, so you didn’t keep quiet this time.

Even though it was difficult at first because you felt like you were just venting to her, especially when you opened up about what really happened at your previous company, she didn’t seem to mind. She listened with that attentive look of hers like always, and reached out to hold your hand when you said that you felt like you wasted so many years of your life for nothing.

“I know it must have been tough for you, but wasting time on something that you enjoy is never time wasted.”

“But I didn’t really enjoy it by the end,” you admitted, and this was the first time you dared to say it out loud. It might have surprised you, but your grandmother didn’t seem taken aback. Instead, she squeezed your hand tight, and looked out of the communal living room at the care home, musing out loud.

“It’s true that we can see life in a different light after a certain age, and I don’t mean to undervalue your feelings, but it seems to me that everything happened for a reason. You might not have ended up at this new company if you had not held on, you might not have met Dongmin again if you had left earlier and you might not have found your new path if you had done something differently. As much as it hurts, sometimes, we learn the most from pain and loss. I know that all too well,” she confessed with a reminiscing smile, something that was both bitter and sweet, heart-wrenching and heart-warming.

Now it was your turn to squeeze her hand, and you just sat there for a while, holding each other’s hands. That is, until she decided to bring up a few embarrassing stories about your childhood, but now you didn’t mind. You let her talk, and laughed along with her, wondering how much would have changed if she and your grandfather had not been such an integral part of your life growing up.

Though she was getting older, she was still in good health, and even joined a retired community club, one that organised trips into the city centre and hikings and visiting museums, and you were so grateful to see her live on, to still enjoy going out and wanting to meet people. You knew that it had been really hard on her when she had lost your grandpa, especially because though your father had helped with the funeral and the administrative work, he had gone back home very quickly afterwards. She must have been heartbroken and lonely, and it pained you that you had not been there for her even though you had been the same.

On the other hand, she must have sensed that you were feeling a bit guilty after everything that had come to the surface because she squeezed your hand one last time and told you that she didn’t regret a single thing when it came to you and she hoped that you felt the same way.

She said that people saw life in a different light after a certain age, but you started to think that with everything changing within and around you these past few weeks, you started to see it differently, too. With each new untold truth coming to the surface, with each new emotion you were displaying that the people around you accepted as it was without forcing you to hold back, you started to see who you could be if it weren’t for all the external circumstances.

Who you could really be.

Spring came early that year, or so it seemed.

You had never paid much attention to the seasons changing, but with the harsh winter covering up the last remains of your time at your previous agency, you were glad to welcome something new, something warm that would bring about change. Though it seemed that your days were filled with change - more so internally than externally -, you also found this peaceful sense of stability, especially beside Dongmin.

Even without actually discussing it, you naturally started having breakfast together before heading to work together. If your workload or meetings allowed, you also went back home together. If not or you were staying out later, you would notify the other, so that they wouldn’t worry (after Dongmin once hung out with one of his friends until midnight with a dead battery, and you kept walking up and down in the corridor until he actually came home).

The other girls’ presence in the dorm always made you alert and tense, so you grew to feel comfortable only in your own company. However, with Dongmin by your side, even if you didn’t say a thing during dinner, you knew that it was because neither of you wanted to speak up, not because it was awkward. With him, even silence was comfortable. With him, each new day seemed like a new opportunity. With him, even grocery shopping seemed fun because he kept teasing you about holding products above your head or scurrying away with the trolley when you wanted to place your items in it. With him, you felt safe and sound, so much that you developed a very healthy sleep and meal schedule, something that you had not had for years. Dongmin was a very quiet flatmate, he never once managed to wake you and he always reminded you to eat, even if it was something small.

Of course, it wasn’t just because of him, and it didn’t mean that learning how to take care of yourself was linear. When your probation period ended, you were given the chance to talk to a counsellor at the company as an employee benefit, and you took advantage of it, knowing fully now that you needed help. It wasn’t easy, talking about your feelings to a complete stranger, that is, but she helped you to see where some of your behaviours stemmed from, and she was always there to reassure you that you were doing good, even if you felt like you took one step forward and two steps back. With each session, you felt a bit closer to someone your 13-year-old self would be proud of.

And it showed. Your aunt said so when you went to visit her, your grandmother noticed it when you spent another Saturday with her, and even Dongmin made a remark when you asked him why he was staring at you one day during dinner. He said that you looked at peace these days, and you nodded because you actually felt like it.

On the other hand, life was full of ups and downs, so there were bad days, too. Days when you felt like an impostor writing songs for KOZ’s upcoming girl group, wondered if Lily was actually trying to be your friend or she was just pretending to, looked into the mirror and wanted to pick apart your skin because it looked less than flawless, brought up the walls around your heart once again, and when everything just seemed a bit too much. Days when you wanted to push everyone away because you didn’t need help, you could deal with it on your own. Until your body decided to give signals, and you decided to listen to it.

That day too after another sleepless night when you wondered if you were brave enough to resolve something that needed resolving for a few years now, prompted by your counsellor, you were waiting for Dongmin to come back. He didn’t notify you that he would come home later, so you assumed that it wouldn’t be long until he showed up. However, you must have dozed off on the couch while waiting for him because you only noticed that he was home when he was in the middle of covering you with a blanket.

“Oh sorry, did I wake you?” Dongmin asked, apologetic, as he sank back onto the couch, keeping an appropriate distance from you, who was leaning onto the side of the couch in a fetus position. You loosened your limbs and pushed yourself into a sitting position, resting your arms in your lap.

“No. It’s okay. I just dozed off a bit,” you admitted with a light chuckle. His features immediately softened, his lips curling into a smile. The sight prompted you to tell him the reason behind being in the living room at this hour without the TV on. “I was actually waiting for you.”

“For me?” He quirked an eyebrow, more curious than concerned, but you could still see the way his jaw tensed slightly.

You nodded, pursing your lips, trying to pull yourself together to ask the question. You knew that Dongmin would say yes, he would understand, it was just… difficult to let the words roll off your lips. To admit that you needed someone to be there with you when you would face something that you were scared of. You were just getting better at this - as in actually communicating your feelings and needs -, but suddenly, the words didn’t seem to come.

He seemed to notice it too because he moved a little closer and reached his hand out slowly with his palm facing up, his eyes following the way you slowly looked down at his outreached hand, and then at your own one resting in your lap. You heaved a sigh and reached out, slipping your hand into his. Only then did he interlock your fingers, anchoring you in the moment.

He didn’t say anything, just held your hand, held it gently, held it confidently, held it safely. You knew that he would let go the moment you wanted him to, but that’s exactly why you didn’t want to let go.

You felt safe.

“Will you come with me to visit my grandfather?” You blurted out in the end, your voice quiet, almost a whisper. Then again, Dongmin understood you without words, and he heard you loud and clear even if you were quiet.

“Of course,” he answered within a heartbeat. No questions, no hesitation.

“His birthday would be this Friday, and I want to visit him after work.”

“I’ll make sure to finish work on time on Friday,” he promised without you even asking him to. You looked up at him, into his jet-black eyes, ones that were warm and comforting; watching the way his chest rose as he took a breath, the way his dark locks fell into his eyes, and the way he kept his distance to give you space. Your intertwined hands were the bridge between you two, but suddenly, this wasn’t enough for you.

This time, you were the one who hesitated, who leaned forward slightly to give him space, to give him time, to give him a chance to pull away, but when he didn’t, you let go of his fingers only to rest your hand on his back as you leaned into him, resting your head in the croak of his neck. He followed suit, framing your body with his arms, holding you close to him, to his heart.

You never noticed how beautiful the melody of his heartbeat was, but this time, you made sure to remember it.

(And he made sure to remember yours, so that he could write a song about it one day. Maybe he wouldn’t show it to anyone, but it would be his, and it would remind him of this moment, of this feeling of certainty. You might not have said it out loud, but in that moment, he knew, more certain than ever, that you liked him just as much as he liked you.)

You used to hate summer, at least the summers following graduation.

You wanted to go out, to bathe in the sun, to have a picnic by the Han River, to cycle along the streets, to eat ice cream and to watch the sunset with your friends - like common people did, like youngsters around you did, and like you did once, with Dongmin, before everything fell apart.

You couldn’t go out though, you had to keep a low profile because pre-debut photos could come out any day that might ruin your and your group’s reputation, you were always dieting, and you didn’t have any friends. So though you yearned for that kind of freedom and joy that girls around your age displayed during those months, you were also heartbroken over the fact that summers weren’t the same anymore without Dongmin. Despite the fact that you were the one who pushed him away, you missed him so badly, even more so during summer.

Summer this year, on the other hand, was literally like a breath of fresh air. After you suggested going out to the Han River to Dongmin once, he didn’t seem to run out of activities to do together and places to visit together. Even though your interactions were limited to your shared flat and your workplace before, you slowly began to explore the city together. You had a feeling that he needed that push to let him know that it was okay on your side if you spent even more time together than already, and you appreciated that he was patient and waited for you to let him in.

How could you not though? After letting go of him once, you didn’t intend to make the same mistake. Your circumstances were totally different now, you didn’t have to push him away to keep him safe, and there was no external pressure to choose otherwise, to choose something else above him. Your dreams changed along the way, and being content with this life of yours beside him was your new dream. You might have still grieved those nine years you had spent chasing your dream of becoming an idol, but now, you were also ready to move on, to have new dreams, and to see that maybe everything worked out for the best even if it hurt, even if it didn’t seem like it before.

This kind of life was better in a lot of ways. You could eat ice cream by the Han River with Dongmin without being afraid of tabloid photos resurfacing afterwards; you could indulge in as many smoothies as you wanted without being terrified over the number of calories in them; you could lay on the couch multiple nights in a row, letting yourself rest when you regained your period without feeling like you were lazy; you could go out whenever you wanted and visit your grandmother with a lighter heart, sharing anything with her no matter how mundane or serious; and let’s be honest, you could still make music without sacrificing your health, your happiness and your privacy.

And summer this year was spent doing exactly what you had been missing out on, and what you had been yearning for. Not just the activities, places or foods, but the presence of Dongmin, too.

He didn’t have a loud, bright, full-of-life kind of presence; it was rather subtle but constant, his actions speaking louder than his words, with the kind of attentiveness that didn’t let him not ask about your state when he noticed that something was off. He was like a shadow, always there in the background, following your steps and looking out for you even when no one wasn’t.

No wonder you wanted to surprise him when his birthday rolled by in August, and even though he said he didn’t want anything huge, you didn’t just want to stay inside and watch a movie.

“We aren’t going anywhere weird, right?” Dongmin asked teasingly when you told him to dress casually. That was the thing about him: once you warmed up to him again, he started teasing you in little ways, enjoying the way you rolled your eyes or huffed dramatically at his antics with that little propped-up smile in the corner of his lips.

“No. Who do you take me for?”

“That’s good. I thought this is going to be the time you send me bungee jumping or something,” he shrugged, amused, and you chuckled when you heard his words.

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea for your next birthday,” you pointed out in a similarly playful manner before you both went to your own rooms.

It wasn’t anything weird, really. First, you took him to a vinyl store where he was like a child, noticing more and more of his favourite albums, and he had a hard time choosing just one. You told him that it was on you, so he could choose as many as he wanted, but he insisted that he didn’t want to take advantage of you, so he opted for an Oasis LP in the end.

Then, you took him to a thrift shop because you knew that he always found such gems at his favourite stores, so you thought he might like this one, too. You had a fun time watching him try on different outfits - from actually well-fitting ones to purposefully over-the-top ones -, and though you told him that this day was about him, he ended up buying you a top and a leather jacket, one that eerily reminded you of the one he wore.

Your last stop was the karaoke bar you had gone to the summer before senior year, and after a few serious songs, he asked you to sing one of those boy groups' songs he produced, and in return, you asked him to sing the most popular song you wrote for the girl group at your previous company. It was all in good fun though, but you couldn’t shake the sight of him swaying his hips - aka doing the choreography to the girl group song - out of your mind while you were walking back to your flat, your tummies full after your stop at a tteokbokki place.

“I can’t believe I’ve never seen you dance like that before!”

“Not just anyone can see me dance, you know,” Dongmin retorted playfully as you got inside the building, the boy following you, taking step after step until you reached your floor. You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you got the keys out of your pouch.

“Oh, so I’m not just anyone?” You asked equally playfully as you let yourself inside, and you stopped in the entryway to wait for him, and to see his reaction.

The boy closed the door behind him, and as he turned towards you, his smile was gone, replaced by a kind of sincerity that made the words freeze on your lips. It was so sudden, so in contrast to the mood before, but it made your heart race in a good way.

“No. You were never and you will never be just anyone to me.”

The confession fell off his lips like one of his artfully crafted lines, so naturally and so genuinely. As if it had not been obvious from the way he had been looking out for you silently yet consistently - attending your grandfather’s funeral without you knowing, keeping up with the news of your previous agency in hopes he would hear from you, listening to your Soundcloud and suggesting for KOZ to check it out, offering the other bedroom in his flat, so that you could stay with him, and letting you have space but always being there for you when you needed someone to pick you up ever since -, this now confirmed it.

Years ago, you might have outright lied to him to keep your heart guarded, and to keep him away from the twisted world of the idol industry. That girl had even believed that he had not genuinely loved her, that he would eventually forget her, and move on.

That girl was gone. Now you could believe his words, now you could feel his affection, and you had no doubt that he had never, not even for a single second, wanted to stay out of your life. And now, there was nothing holding you back from reciprocating it.

“You too,” you whispered, taking a step closer to him. You reached out to gently push the fringe out of his eyes, so that you could look into them, those dark galaxies that had once been your only escape from reality. Now, you were glad that you could wonder at them, in them whenever you wanted. They weren’t an escape anymore, they were a part of your days now.

As your hand travelled down to rest on his cheek, you could feel him slightly shudder under your touch. Maybe he knew what was coming, maybe he was trying to prepare himself for it. Maybe he just liked the way you weren’t afraid to go to him, to provide the same kind of safety that he did for you.

“I love you, Dongmin. I love you so very much,” you let the words roll off your tongue loud and clear, though your voice broke a bit by the end.

Dongmin’s eyes shone a bit differently now than they did before, but you didn’t have time to wonder if they were tears or something else, he was already hugging you in the next second.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

(He was wrong. He didn’t need to write a song about it. You were constantly writing the song he was a part of, and he hoped that it would never end.)

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

Header taken from the Congratulations cover video.

Click here for my BND masterlist!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for BOYNEXTDOOR or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here. 🥰

Also, a lengthy explanation about this story, but actually, this was not the original storyline. So the first idea was that she would debut but end up leaving her group because of a dating scandal with an actor, and his fans would send her horrible threats. However, the part about her meeting Taesan at her new agency would have been the same. I actually made a whole music playlist because she would have written many songs about her toxic ex that other artists would sing.

However, I realised that there are so many stories where trainees aren't selected at the very end, and a lot more people end up not debuting than those who do. So I switched it up and left out the toxic ex, but for this reason, this kind of hit harder for me because I had dreams that were crushed because of external circumstances (like Covid and parental pressure), so I felt like writing about it was more relatable for me.

Also, the grandparents wouldn't have had that much of a part initially, but I started writing this story about 30 minutes before I got the news that my maternal grandmother passed away, and so, this story is kind of like a 'thank you' letter to grandparents like hers among many other life lessons (I hope so). My grandmother also used to say that I should have a job that makes me happy, and that she wants me to be happy and healthy always, and she would root for me no matter what. So writing about reader's feelings losing her grandfather and being grateful for both of their support came from the bottom of my heart, and helped me to deal with her loss a bit better.

Another thing that is not mentioned here because I couldn't include it in a way that seemed natural is that she unconsciously started dreaming of becoming an idol because of her parents' lack of love. She thought that if she performed on stage, her parents would care more and come to visit her in Seoul. However, nothing would have been enough for them, not even debuting, so her letting go of her dream of being an idol is her letting go of that need to be something more in her parents' eyes. She would have been made aware of it during counselling, but I didn't end up including it.

Last but not least, I just want to say that I hope you'll make your dreams come true, and that only good things will come your way. Even if it's not the case, don't forget that there are people who will always be rooting for you, including me. ❤️

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[hanniescookie]

biteable tangerine - bsk

pairing - seungkwan x f!reader

genre/warnings - non idol au, fluff, romance, set in some music academy maybe, kissing, skinship

summary - seungkwan doesn't know if he wants to live or die.

wc - 1.4k

A/N - my seungkwan simp era forced me to write this!!! i can't get over how tangerine he truly is ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ as usual, a huge thank you to my bbangi for proofreading this! @kissbyoon

| @maestro-net

Seungkwan couldn't believe his life.

He was stiffened in the backseat of the cab, staring straight ahead as he tried to not move an inch. Your head was on his shoulder, and he could feel you softly breathing as you slept. It fogged his mind — the proximity, and the events of the whole day.

It had started simply. In his head, he was planning various ways to ask you out. To give in to his complex feelings.

But the moment he saw you standing in the vocal room beside some guy whose name he couldn’t remember, he lost his cool.

In the next two minutes, that guy was somehow out of the room, and he was the one standing beside you with his chest heaving up in heavy breaths.

It came out as a reflex. God knows, he would have never asked someone out like that. On instinct, in desperation, in a fucking vocal room. Boo Seungkwan was usually better than that.

“Hey Seung—”

“Will you go out with me?”

He could hear the distant caws of several crows as you stared up at him. Your face was undeniably warm, and your heart was threatening to jump out of your chest. “What?”

He blinked in realization, and instinctively slapped his fingers on his mouth thrice, punctuating his words with the hits. “This stupid mouth.”

You couldn't help but bite your lip to control the chuckle that bursted out of your mouth. He laughed a little alongside you if only to ease the embarrassment he felt. His cheeks were red, as he turned to face away from you, shutting his eyes tight. “I'm sorry. I should stop making such jokes.”

You had a little disappointing pout on your face, as you tilted your head to get a clearer look of his avoidant face. “Was that a joke?”

Seungkwan turned back towards you in a jolt, and you stepped back at the impact, your eyes wide. He looked at you, stunned. “Sorry, uh— yes?” He chuckled awkwardly. “It would be pretty offensive if it wasn't a joke. I wouldn't dream of offending you, Y/N.”

“Is that how you treat all girls?” You asked, raising a brow. “You ask them out as a joke? Because there are many who seem to be attracted to you.”

He shook his head instantly, shaking his hands to confirm his denial with another awkward laugh. “Not at all! I don't do that. No. You're just exaggerating. Nobody is attracted to me.”

“I am.” You said, a sweet smile blooming on your face despite the blush coating your cheeks. If the sudden increase in Seungkwan’s heartbeat caused him an attack, he'd have had to blame you.

You took a tiny step closer to him, feeling somewhat small in his intimidating presence despite the extreme dust of pink on his round cheeks. “Too bad it was a joke. I would've loved to—”

“Wait. Stop.” Seungkwan said, his hand involuntarily reaching upto his racing heart. He let out an unbelievable chuckle, opening his mouth to speak several times, but failing at it. “You mean— you—” he gestured between the two of them. “And me. You mean—”

“You're making this very awkward, Seungkwan.” You let out in between a fit of disbelieving giggles, and he couldn't help but giggle along with you, his feet stomping on the ground.

“Oh my God.”

“Oh God, you like me?! You will go out with me?”

You reached ahead to hit his arm, keeping a finger on your lips. “Hey, keep it low!”

He widened his big eyes, leaning down a little to look into your scared eyes. “Why? Do you not want anyone to know?”

You bit your lip, looking down and holding onto the corner of his sleeve as a reflex. “No. I just—” Your voice lowered to a whisper, as you met his eyes. “I'm shy.”

Seungkwan could die right there. He shut his eyes, and took a deep breath, before holding you by your shoulders. “Y/N. Let me ask again just to be sure. Will you go on a date with me?”

You smiled almost blindingly, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “Of course, you biteable tangerine!”

Seungkwan died right there. And he didn't know how he managed to take you out on a date right then. He didn't know how he managed your smiles and giggles all the while you both ate at your favourite café that he instantly said yes to and paid for.

You were so oblivious to all the chaos inside him, giving him crazy flutters so casually by just doing as much as passing him his drink. Seungkwan couldn't believe how down bad he was until you fell asleep on his shoulder on the way back.

“Please stay till she wakes up herself.”

And now he couldn't move, could hardly even breathe. He was grateful that the roads weren't very noisy, because if you woke up, he would have to feel your existence again. He wasn't ready for killing himself like that yet.

When the cab stopped at her apartment building, he signalled the cab driver to shush. The old man cocked a brow at him and what started was a barely whispered, poor sign conversation.

“I cannot wake her up. She is too peaceful. Will you please cooperate?”

“????”

“I did not get paid for this, sir. Please go make her sleep at home.”

“I will pay you extra. Please just shush.”

That seemed to shut the old man up, and it took around another half an hour till you seemed to move a little, opening your eyes and looking up at him.

Seungkwan pretended to look out of the window, like he wasn't just staring at you and waiting for you to wake up.

“Sorry, I fell asleep,” you spoke in you sleep laced voice. He looked at you, raising his brows as if he was surprised to see you up. “Oh! No, don't be sorry. We're here, though. Let's get off.”

He slammed all of the cash he had in the driver's hand, giving him a tight-lipped smile before turning to you. You smiled lazily at him, and Seungkwan found himself wondering if this was going to be his new normal.

The cab sped away from you, leaving the rustle of the leaves the only sound behind you both.

“Thank you for today,” you muttered, once again holding his face in your hands. He felt a queue of wild butterflies fly around in his stomach, as he failed to control his shy smile. “It was nothing. I'll take you out on a better date, I promise.”

You chuckled, pressing on his face a little to squish his cheeks. “It was perfect.”

Seungkwan raised his hands a little to hold you, but his arms fell back to his sides in hesitation. He bit his lip, smiling against your hands and failed to realize what he should do or say next.

“Wow I—” he shut his eyes when your hands left his face and you tilted your head to gauge his expressions. He ran a hand on his face in near frustration. “I feel so nervous. This is the first time that I feel so flustered!”

He threw his hands in the air, groaning. “See! Everybody calls me boo all the time. But you saying it just— makes me—”

He felt something extremely soft against his lips, and it made his eyes shut tight. When they opened, you were right in his space, smiling up at him. “Sorry. You're cute. And my boyfriend now. I can do that, right?”

You giggled, holding onto his arm and rubbing it to soothe him. “Relax, boo. It's okay. It's just me.”

He blinked, opening his mouth to say something but failing miserably. His ears felt hot, extremely hot, and he didn't understand why his body was doing this to him, but he felt foreign to all these sensations.

“Hmm?”

He nodded, as if he was desperate to feel the touch again. This time, his hesitation slipped away, and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“You can do it anytime since I'm your boyfriend now.” He murmured, smiling softly at you with a flustered edge to it. You squealed a little, hitting him with a fist before letting your head fall on his chest.

Seungkwan never felt more alive than this.

[lonely-ey3s]

With All My Love : Chapter 15 | fresh start

Chapter 15 : Fresh Start

Pairings: joel miller x f!reader (no outbreak)

Word count: 8.1k

Chapter Summary: Christmas season in the Miller's involves eloping, family dinners, the best morning sex of your life and oh yeah — cinnamon rolls.

Chapter warnings: FLUFF, joel being an absolute lover, soft!joel, mentions of pregnancy, anxiety, use of Spanish but with translations, use of y/n, SMUT (18+ MDNI), praise kink, f!receiving oral.

a/n: i'm sorry this one took so long. with writing ride or die and heartlines lets just say inspiration struck! epilogue will be posted sometime in the next week or two, i have an idea in mind but want it to end perfectly. thanks for all your support with this story - i'm sad to see them come to an end

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics 

Main Masterlist

1 week before Christmas

The morning felt like magic — that quiet, weightless sort of magic where everything around you hums with the promise of something life-changing. The sunlight spilled through the windows, soft and golden, making your little house glow.

It smelled like coffee and fresh flowers. Something Maria had bought for you and everyone else to wear to make it feel just a little bit like an actual wedding. 

Somewhere down the hall, Sarah’s giggles floated through the air as Elena and Maria helped her with her hair. 

You stood barefoot in front of the mirror in your bedroom, smoothing your hands over the simple white dress you’d chosen — soft satin, a little fitted at the top before flowing down gently over your small baby bump.

Behind you, the door creaked open.

"Jesus, mi amor..." Joel’s voice was low and full of something that made my whole body flush. "You look... perfect."

You turned to find him standing there, wearing a black suit that fit him as if it had been made just for him. His tie hung a little loose around his neck, like he hadn’t quite finished getting ready because he couldn’t wait to see you. He’d cut his hair since Thanksgiving. He still looked rugged, even though his hair was tousled and a little messy when styled, yet he was put together. 

"You’re not looking too bad yourself, Mr. Almost-My-Husband," you teased, smoothing his lapel, softly straightening his tie.

He caught your hand and kissed it, his lips lingering against your knuckles like he needed the connection.

 "Come here," he murmured, pulling you into his arms carefully, his hand naturally resting against the curve of your bump that you both already adored. Its name changed with each ultrasound or update on the baby app Joel had on his phone — which provided adorable updates here and there on the baby's progress. Currently, the little one has been deemed ‘peach’ – last week, it was ‘plum’.

"How are you and little Peach doin’ today, mi vida?" he asked quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You smiled, the kind of smile that felt stitched into your bones. "We’re doin’ good. Little one is being good today, no morning sickness, no headaches… one could assume they know the importance of today..."

He hummed and smiled lovingly, "That's comforting to hear... I'm glad you're doin' good Mrs. Miller..." he whispered softly then his lips brushed against yours at first, soft and careful, like he was savoring the moment, like he didn’t want to rush even a second of it. 

You leaned into him instinctively, "Mmm, you've got to wait at least another hour before you call me that baby..." you whispered back against his lips when he pulled away for a moment.

He nudged your nose and hummed, "Not soon enough my love..."

You moved your hands to rest against his chest, where you could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palms before leaning back in to kiss him again.

He deepened the kiss slowly, his mouth moving with yours, patient but full of the kind of love that burned steady and strong.

His thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your cheekbone, grounding you, anchoring you to him.

The world outside the bedroom faded away — the laughter, the music, even the nervous excitement of the morning — until there was just this.

Just the two of you.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you a little breathless but smiling like you knew exactly what you both were walking toward.

"I love you," he whispered, so quietly it felt like a secret meant just for me.

A sharp knock sounded on the doorframe.

"Ok you two, calm down…" Sarah said, grinning at you both with one eyebrow raised. "If you two don’t move it, we’re gonna miss the ceremony!"

You laughed breathlessly and turned toward her, Joel adjusting to wrap his arms around you from behind and lean his chin on your shoulder. 

She leaned against the door with a crooked smile, holding a delicate bouquet in her hands. 

She looked so beautiful — wearing a gorgeous dark red dress you picked out together, her hair pinned back into a lovely bun that Maria and Elena must’ve helped her with. 

"You look beautiful, sweets," You said, feeling my throat tighten, tears stinging your eyeline as you looked at her.

She blushed and shrugged. "Thanks, mom..."

From down the hall, Maria called, "We’re ready whenever you guys are! Your mom says if we’re late, she’ll hold you personally responsible, Joel!"

Joel smirked and kissed your cheek. "Let’s not give my mom an excuse to tackle me on the courthouse steps."

You laughed and took a deep breath. "Agreed, " you said as you reached to take his hand and headed downstairs after Sarah.

In the living room, the group bustled, laughter and excitement in the air. There were smiles everywhere, soft murmurs of excitement.

Cameras being checked. Ties being straightened.

They were all too busy to notice you and Joel at the bottom of the stairs, his arms wrapped around you from behind once again.

He kissed your temple and whispered, “Ready, mi vida?” he rubbed your bump softly.

You nodded, pressing your hand over his.

“More than ready.”

The drive to the courthouse was a blur of laughter, soft music on the radio, and the feeling of his fingers laced tightly with yours across the console. Sarah sat in the backseat, humming along to the radio and clutching the small bouquet of wildflowers that Maria had brought for her. Elena sat next to her and watched the two of you with nothing but pride and love for her son and now you, her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. 

Every time you glanced over at him, you caught him smiling — that wide, boyish smile that melted any nerves you might’ve had. He reached over and put his hand over your belly at the last stoplight before the courthouse, and for a moment, you thought you might have seen him tear up. 

When you pulled up, the courthouse wasn’t grand or decorated, just a simple brick building tucked into the heart of town. But it felt monumental to you; this was it. This was the day — you were stepping into a new chapter, one you and Joel had written carefully, lovingly, together.

Tommy and Bill’s trucks were parked close to Joel’s in the small parking lot, and you could already hear Bill fussing over how excited Frank was for the whole ordeal before you’d gotten out saying things like 'This ain't our damn weddin', will you calm down?' and 'Yes you look fine, my god!'. 

Frank had been over almost every day for the past week. He, Rose, and Maria had been helping you put together a small get-together for afterwards — a small dinner party. You’d been dealing with extreme exhaustion for the last couple of weeks. On top of the holidays and part-time photo shoots, you barely had any energy left, but they stepped up. 

Joel helped you out of the truck, his hand strong and steady under yours, and for a second, you both just stood there, smiling lovingly at each other. The rest of the family was utterly oblivious to your missing presence as they continued to walk inside. 

The afternoon air was crisp but not cold, and the sky stretched wide and impossibly blue above both of you. He leaned in close, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat.

"You ready to become Mrs. Miller?" he murmured against your skin.

You smiled, your whole heart swelling so big it felt like you might float away. "I've been ready since the moment you picked me up at the airport — literally picked me up..." you lightly giggled.

Something in his gaze shifted — deepened — and without hesitation, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you.

It wasn’t soft or tentative. It was deep, hungry, like he needed you to feel every ounce of what he couldn’t put into words for today.

His lips moved over yours with a slow, searing intensity, his hand moving to hold the back of your neck, the other hand sliding down to splay across the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

You melted into him, clutching the lapels of his suit jacket, completely forgetting for a moment that we were standing in a parking lot with your family nearby.

When you both finally pulled apart, breathless and a little dazed, he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "God, I love you. I’m so happy you’re gonna be my wife."

You smiled widely and reached up to touch his cheek, “I love you, too.” 

He took one more moment where it was just you two before his hand was laced with yours, and started walking toward the courthouse.

Tommy smiled as he held the doors open. “You two ready?” he grinned. 

Joel let you in first before he touched Tommy’s shoulder and chuckled, “You have no idea, little brother...” 

Inside, the room was small and simple. It had polished wood floors and large windows that let in the morning light. A few other couples waited in hushed excitement, but somehow it felt like the whole building was holding its breath just for you two.

You and Joel stood in line together. Everyone else in your family lined the benches behind to watch.

He turned toward you, slipping your hand into his. His thumb traced gentle circles against your knuckles as the officiant spoke, joining another couple ahead of you. He kissed your temple then whispered, “I have somethin’ for you…” 

You blushed and looked up at him, “Oh? What’s that?” 

He chuckled softly and then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bracelet, one with sapphires around its chain. He took your hand and held up your wrist, softly whispering as he clasped it onto you. “Somethin’ new, somethin’ used, somethin’ borrowed, somethin’ blue…” 

You smiled and looked down at your wrist, then back up at him, whispering, “I… Joel, where…” You found yourself stumbling over your words, speechless. 

He kissed your knuckles gently, “Mama gave it to me last night, making it for us – somethin’ new... also she used it on her wedding day, making it somethin’ used." he looked down at it and fixed the chain shyly, "I’ve been instructed that after we use it, it’ll be Maria’s turn, so technically somethin’ borrowed. Then the obvious, somethin’ blue.” He smiled as his eyes met yours for a moment. 

You nodded and looked down as you turned your wrist, making the light bounce off the sapphires. “I love it…”

He kissed your forehead gently, then retook your hand into his and turned back to listen to the officiant as they read the vows for the couple in front of you.

A few minutes later, the officiant smiled as she looked at you and Joel, “Please step forward….” 

The officiant, a warm-looking woman with kind eyes, smiled at the two of you as you stood hand-in-hand as you walked up to stand in front of her. 

"Today," she began, her voice steady and warm, "is a celebration of love, commitment, friendship, family, and two people who have found their home in each other."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle gently over you both.

"Marriage is a promise. A promise to stand together through every chapter — the ones filled with laughter and joy, and the ones that test your strength. It is choosing each other, every single day, with your whole heart."

She looked between you and Joel and smiled.

"You have chosen to elope today, to make this about what matters most — the two of you, your bond, and the beautiful life you are building together."

Turning to Joel, she said softly, "Joel, do you have vows you'd like to read?"

Joel nodded, squeezing your hand lightly, then turned to take the left one in his. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. His thumb brushed over your knuckles like he needed the contact.

He cleared his throat, a little unsteady, and looked right at you.

"I used to think love had to be hard to mean something. That it had to be complicated, messy... impossible, even. After Sarah’s mom, I never thought it’d be something I’d get to experience it…" he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"But then I met you. And loving you — God, it was like breathing. It was the first time it all made sense."

He paused, blinking quickly.

He smiled and looked down at your hand in his, grounding himself, then looked back up at you, "I vow to always make you feel seen, heard, and cherished. To hold your hand through the chaos, and dance with you through the calm. I vow to be the man you and our family deserve, even when it’s hard or I'm tired — even when the world feels heavy. I vow to love you, exactly as you are, for the rest of my life — and beyond that, if I’m lucky." 

You barely managed to hold back the tears blurring your vision, you nodded at him and gently squeezed his hand, letting him know you heard every single word.

The officiant then gave you a soft nod.

"And now, your vows."

You took a shaky breath, my voice trembling but strong. You let out a small chuckle as you reached into a pocket within your dress and pulled out a piece of paper. 

You softly cleared your throat and kept hold of Joel’s hand. "I spent so many years wondering if I was too much or not enough. So many years alone, never having a family, feeling loved... I never dreamed I'd be standing before my friends and family marrying the love of my life. I saw... the complete opposite." You said softly, feeling your heart in your throat.

"But you looked at me and you found me. You healed something in me that I didn’t know could be healed. You made me believe that maybe love wasn’t something that required magic or wishes on stars... or for us — you just needed to write a letter to a stranger in Texas when you join a pen pal group with your army bunkie..." You softly let out a laugh, which made him chuckle as well. 

You squeezed his hands tighter.

"Joel, I vow to love you in all the ways that matter — with patience, with passion, with laughter, and with loyalty. I vow to stand with you through every storm and celebrate every sunny day. I vow to be your biggest fan, your comfort and safety, and your biggest support. And most of all, I vow to build a life with you that our children will be proud to call home."

You caught sight of Sarah in the front row, subtly wiping at her eyes. It made you smile through your own tears as they fell down your cheeks.

You muttered as you wiped your eyes, “Stupid hormones…” 

Joel let out a chuckle as tears fell down his cheeks. His hands holding onto yours firmly, trying to ground you both in this moment. 

The officiant gave you both a moment, her own eyes a little glassy.

"Marriage is not about finding someone you can live with," she said gently. "It’s about finding the one person you can't live without."

She smiled warmly. “Do you have rings to exchange for this next part?” 

Joel nodded and looked towards Sarah, “Sweetheart?” his voice broke. 

Sarah reached to give him a pouch that contained both the rings you had gotten for each other.

The officiant smiled and looked at him first, placing the ring in his hand.

"Joel, as you place this ring on her finger, please repeat after me."

Joel took your hand, steady despite the tears shining in his eyes.

He slid the ring slowly onto your finger as he said:

"With this ring, I promise you my heart, my soul, and all that I am. I choose you, today and every day, for all the days of my life."

The officiant smiled and turned to you, placing the second ring into your hand.

"And now, would you repeat after me?"

You took his left hand, the one that had held yours through so much already, and slipped the ring onto his finger slowly as you repeated, voice thick with emotion:

"With this ring, I give you my heart and my hand. I choose you, today and every day, for all the days of my life."

The officiant looked between you both, her voice a little softer now, as she felt the weight of the moment.

"Joel, do you take her to be your lawfully wedded wife — to love, honor, and cherish her, from this day forward?"

Joel’s eyes never left yours as he said, sure and full of every vow he carried in his heart, 

"I do."

She turned to you, her voice beaming.

"And do you take him to be your lawfully wedded husband — to love, honor, and cherish him, from this day forward?"

Your voice didn’t shake — it soared, full of love and certainty.

"I do."

You and Joel looked back at each other and smiled lovingly in each other's eyes, saying more than you both could ever put into words in your vows, but both understood wholeheartedly. 

The officiant’s face lit up with a wide, joyful smile as she gently touched your hands, which were joined in the middle. "By the power vested in me by the great state of Texas, it is my honor and my joy to pronounce you husband and wife."

Joel grinned, that boyish, heart-melting grin, and pulled you into him without hesitation.

"You may kiss your bride," the officiant said happily, moving aside as Sarah stood to capture photos of the moment, tears of happiness streaming down her face. 

Joel’s hand was already at the small of your back, the other moved up to cradle your jaw with a tenderness that made your knees wobble. He pulled you in close, like he couldn't stand even an inch of space between the two of you any longer. 

Everything around you slowed down and became muted. All that was there was the two of you. 

His lips met yours with a sweetness that grew deeper, more sure. You melted into him, your arms sliding around his neck, fingertips threading through the soft hair at his nape. 

His thumb brushed slow, reverent circles against your cheekbone, anchoring you as the kiss deepened — slow and passionate, full of all the promises you didn’t have to say out loud anymore.

You could feel the heat of his chest against yours, his hand moving gently up your spine like he needed to feel every part of you to believe this was real.

When you both reluctantly pulled apart, he didn’t let go—not entirely. He kept his forehead resting against yours, breathing you in as if you were something sacred.

"Eres mi cielo…" (You are my heaven) he whispered, his voice breaking a little on the words.

You smiled through the burn of tears in my eyes, running my thumb over his jawline, feeling the scratch of stubble there — familiar and perfect.

"Tu eres mi todo…" (You are my everything) You whispered back, your voice steady, certain.

He smiled, that soft, private smile he only ever gave you. Then, without a word, he lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your knuckles and rings, holding your hand like it were something precious.

He then moved and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear — his fingertips brushing your skin with a featherlight touch — and you felt a lump rise in your throat all over again.

"You’re my whole world, you know that?" he murmured, voice thick and low.

"And you're mine," You breathed.

The cheers and laughter from your family finally broke through, and he gave my hand one last squeeze before turning with you toward them — but he never once let go.

And just like that, it had all begun. 

Forever. 

Sarah and Maria offered to take a few romantic and intimate photos of you and Joel while you were in the courthouse, you also asked someone to take a big group photo as well, wanting everyone in the photo.

Afterwards, you all drove back home to spend the rest of the day together celebrating. 

Once home and inside, you went upstairs to change into something more comfortable. 

Joel had been pinned in the living room by his mom, Rose, and Bill, all of them asking him for details about your last ultrasound the other day, wanting to see pictures. 

Lately you’d been feeling hot and had issues with sweating so getting into something like a cotton sundress versus the silk one you’d had on seemed more than ideal. 

You headed back downstairs to grab a snack as you started to feel a little nauseous.

After grabbing some apple slices you leaned up against the wall and watched your dearest friends and family buzz about the events of today and the last few months. 

After you and Joel announced your sweet bundle of joy, everyone in this room was ready and involved for whatever you needed. 

Rose ran over herbal teas and baby books every other day. When Joel was at work she’d come over to give you company or just to check in. 

Elena called every day and came every weekend for dinner and a movie night. She would end up in the guest room every time but it was everything you could have wanted. You were happy she was so happy and involved. She was also very reassuring when funny things happened to your body, that it was mostly all natural. Always so comforting to let you and Joel know that everything will be ok. 

Tommy and Maria seemed to be the most involved. Maria drove you to your last appointment since your nausea was so bad, as Joel got caught up at work and had to meet you there. She and Tommy called every day and showed up whenever Joel or you said something was off. Tommy stepped up at work so Joel could settle down and be more available for you. The two were yours and Joel's rock.

Bill and Frank were surprisingly just as involved. Bill had already claimed he was going to make you guys a crib and was texting you both with updates. It was sweet — no matter how cold he wanted to seem, Bill had the biggest heart. 

Lastly Sarah. Your pride and joy. She attended the last few ultrasounds with you and Joel; after you told her — she was ecstatic about having a sibling. Some days, she’d velcro herself to you and want to talk to the baby or listen to its heartbeat with a little Doppler monitor. One that you guys got on the internet after a moment of panic about a month ago when you were lightly spotting, thinking you were losing the baby. Let's just say one late-night hospital trip later, and Joel ordered one with overnight shipping. 

You smiled and rubbed your belly as they all were chatting and laughing about heaven knows what – but whatever the topic, it was making them all happy. 

That’s when it hit you fast, you almost didn't realize what was happening.

One second, you were standing there, mindlessly snacking on the last apple slice, and the next — a sharp, tearing pain bloomed along the side of your belly, so fierce it stole your breath. 

You gasped and grabbed the side of the wall for balance, the apple slice hitting the floor.

‘What was that?’

You pressed a hand against the place it hurt, right where your skin stretched taut over the curve of your growing bump. The pain stabbed again, deep and sudden, and a wave of panic washed over you, cold and full of awful thoughts.

‘Is something wrong with the baby?’ 

Your heart dropped. 

‘Am I going into early labor?’

‘Was I — God, what if something was wrong?’

Your mind spiraled so quickly, you barely heard Joel's voice at first, calling your name from the couch he was sitting on next to Elena and Rose. 

You tried to straighten up, tried to breathe through it, but another jolt of pain had you bending forward slightly, blinking fast against the prickle of tears.

"Hey, hey," Joel was suddenly right there, hands bracketing your arms, his face going pale as he took one look at you. "What’s wrong? What happened? Baby, talk to me…"

"I—I don't know," You managed, clutching his sleeve. "My side. It just— it hurts. Bad."

His eyes went wide, full of instant worry, but he kept his voice low and steady, grounding you.

"Okay. It's alright. Breathe, baby. I'm right here," he encouraged.

Everyone’s attention quickly shifted towards you and Joel, the energy moving from light and happy to panic and concern. The room suddenly quieted down.

You nodded, trying to force yourself to calm down, but your mind was a thousand steps ahead — hospital rooms, doctors shaking their heads, everything going wrong. You pressed your hand harder against the sore spot, willing the pain to ease.

Slowly, after a few long breaths, the stabbing edge of it dulled to a tight, pulling ache — uncomfortable, but not as terrifying. You finally dared to look up at Joel, your voice small and quiet.

"Maybe it's just... stretching?" You said, though it sounded like a question. You had read somewhere that growing pains could happen — round ligament pain, wasn’t that what it was called? — but now, in the middle of it, it felt so much bigger and scarier.

Joel cupped your face gently, brushing your hair back.

"Let's call the doctor anyway," he said without hesitation, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Just to be sure. Okay?"

You nodded again, heart still hammering, but starting to settle now that you weren’t alone in the fear. 

His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, steady and warm, and you leaned into his touch. “Go sit down with mom and Sarah, I’ll have Maria get you some water and I’ll call Dr. Benson, yes?” 

You nodded and went to sit on the couch with Elena and Sarah. Maria did as Joel said and went to get you some water. Tommy went over to stand by Joel while he called the doctor, anxiously pacing with him in the kitchen. 

After several tense minutes, Joel came out from the kitchen with a soft smile, kneeling in front of you. He leaned in and softly kissed your stomach, “You were right. Just growing pains…” he looked up at you with those soft brown eyes. 

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. You looked down at him and touched his cheek before laying your head back and taking a deep breath as you put your hand on your stomach.

‘Everything is ok. Little peach is perfectly fine.’

Christmas Eve

The house had finally fallen quiet.

The soft twinkle of the Christmas tree lights still glowed downstairs, casting tiny golden reflections against the walls — presents laid neatly under the tree, stockings stuffed, and the magic of Christmas sprinkled in the little details. 

You lay curled against Joel in bed, your forehead tucked into the warm curve of his neck, feeling the steady, grounding rhythm of his breathing as he slowly traced shapes into your back with his fingertips.

His other hand was resting protectively over the gentle swell of your bump, thumb brushing absentmindedly back and forth — a tiny, tender motion that made your heart ache in the best way.

‘Our first Christmas Eve as husband and wife.’

‘Our first Christmas with a baby growing between us.’

You smiled warmly and hummed, then reached up and traced the edge of his jaw, rough with stubble. “First Christmas together. Married…” You said softly, as if it were something fragile. 

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “First of many. Next year, there’ll be one more stocking on the mantel,” he softly nudged his nose against yours, smiling happily. 

You grinned, placing your hand on top of his over the swell of your belly. “Four of us under this roof,” You said, “Five, if you count Ellie always being over here with Sarah.” you chuckled. 

He laughed, eyes dancing across your features that still showed in the soft light of the moon coming through the windows. “She still can’t believe she’s getting a little sibling.”

“She’ll be the best big sister,” You said, scooting in closer, your legs tangled beneath the thick comforter. He pulled you in tighter, his palm resting low on your back, warm and grounding.

“You’ve made this house feel like home,” he said suddenly, voice quieter now, like he was speaking a secret aloud. “I used to dread holidays. Now I never want them to end.”

You felt your throat tighten at his words. You gently kissed the space just beneath his collarbone, lingering for a second. “Me too.” You paused and looked up at him. “I can’t remember the last time I actually celebrated a holiday.” You softly sighed. 

He hummed as his thumb softly stroked your back as he held you, “What’s your favorite Christmas memory? Something you hold onto during the holidays?” 

You lay your head against the pillow as you moved onto your side to face him. You scrunched your nose as you thought. After a few moments, you suddenly smiled, a memory warming your mind once more. “Levi had me over to his place one year. He bought me a few presents... little things that I think he got from the local thrift store – but to me, it was everything.” You hummed, remembering. “We slept out in his living room by the Christmas tree. I don’t know how he did it… But I woke up to presents under the tree.” Your smile grew warmer, and tears stung your eyeline. 

Joel’s arms tightened slightly around you, his chest rumbling with a low hum of encouragement.

"I woke up to the smell of cinnamon and sugar in the air," You continued, voice sleepy and sweet with memory. "We made such a mess... flour everywhere, dough stuck in my hair. He let me ice the rolls, even though I got more on the counter than on the rolls." You lightly chuckled, feeling the familiar, old ache of missing him.

"I just remember feeling... loved. Safe." You said after a moment. 

Joel pressed a slow kiss to the top of your head, lingering there like he wanted to kiss away every ghost of loneliness you’d ever known.

"You’re safe now," he murmured into my hair. "You’re home, mi vida."

You nodded and hummed as you drifted to sleep, wrapped up in his warmth and the soft, perfect hum of Christmas magic.

—

You didn’t feel him slip out of bed sometime in the middle of the night.

Didn’t hear the quiet rustle of his jeans or the soft creak of the front door closing behind him.

You only stirred once, faintly aware of the empty space beside you, but the bed was still warm from him, and you trusted him like you trusted your own heartbeat. He was just getting a drink or checking on Sarah. He’d be back.

What you didn’t know — what made your eyes sting when you found out later that next morning— was that Joel had pulled on his boots, grabbed his keys, and snuck out into the freezing Christmas Eve night.

All so he could find a store still open.

All so he could buy cinnamon rolls — the real kind, yeast and all — because he wanted you to have that piece of your childhood again that was held so closely to your heart with Levi.

He wanted us to make that memory together, to keep it alive—however, this time, with your daughter and the little one on the way.

Christmas morning

The soft gray light of early Christmas morning seeped through the edges of the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. The world outside was silent, blanketed in thin sheet of snow, but inside, everything felt warm and alive. 

You stirred slightly, tucked under the thick comforter, and immediately felt the familiar weight of his arm pull you closer.

“Morning, Mrs. Miller,” he whispered, his voice low and rough with sleep, his lips brushing the edge of your ear.

You turned to face him, eyes barely open, a smile already pulling at your lips. “Mmm, still getting used to that name...” you let out a small giggle. 

He smiled back, eyes crinkling at the corners, and leaned in to press a slow, warm kiss to your forehead. “Get used to it. You’re stuck with me now.” he joked. 

You sleepily chuckled and blinked a few times before turning to look at the time, 6 am. 

“Sarah, awake?” you yawned and rubbed your eyes, preparing to wake up for a morning of excitement from her.

Joel moved to prop himself on his elbow on his side before he leaned in and kissed your lips softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he did so. His lips moved slowly and deeply across yours, enchanting you under his spell, like he’d done so many times in early mornings.

He murmured as he pulled back slowly, pressing his forehead against yours, pulling you by your waist close to him. “We have a rule in the Miller household. No one disturbs mom or dad until at least 7 am on Christmas morning…” he said with a low rumble to his voice, his hand moving down to cup your ass. 

You inhaled and let out a soft moan as he grabbed the meat of your ass, lightly tugging on the t-shirt he’d had on, “Is this a new rule or one that’s been established before our marriage?” you giggled feeling his lips trail down your neck towards your collarbone. 

You could feel his lips smirk against your skin as he continued littering kisses down your body. “Been established since Sarah could walk outta her room when she was 3…” 

You chuckled softly and threaded your fingers through his hair before pulling him back up to your lips, kissing him slowly and deeply. Your fingertips inching up his shirt, lightly trailing up his skin. You wanted the damned thing off your husband's body. 

He groaned at your eagerness and cupped your cheek again, his hand moving deeper to thread into the hair at the base of your skull, pulling you up and into him. His other hand maneuvered your panties down your thighs and off you like it was some magic trick. He proudly hummed against your lips as he pulled back to take his shirt off and tossed it off the bed. 

You looked up at him and sat up, doing the same, discarding the oversized shirt of his that you had worn to bed.

His eyes looked down at your body, and a type of hunger and lust took over — his eyes darkening. 

Your breasts had grown since becoming pregnant, and between that and your swollen belly, it had Joel going mad for you most days.

“Dios, mírate. Eres tan hermosa con nuestro hijo creciendo dentro de ti....” (God, look at you. You're so beautiful with our child growing inside you.) he murmured leaning down to capture your nipple between his lips, lightly sucking on it. 

You fell against the sheets and panted softly, a blush swelling up your body, arching into his touch. “Fuck that feels so good…” You whined as goosebumps ran up your body from the way his tongue was lightly flicking the sensitive nub. 

He grinned and looked up at you as he pulled off your nipple with a light ‘pop’ before he slid his boxers off and nestled between your legs, his hard cock falling against your thigh.

He shifted, pressing you down into the mattress with the heat of his body, his hand cradling the underside of your bump like it was the most precious thing in the world. His forehead pressed to yours, breath fanning across my lips.

"You’re so damn beautiful like this," he whispered, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "Warm, messy, mine."

You whimpered before you could stop yourself, your hands moving down his torso, tugging him closer. He smiled against your mouth — slow, lazy, wicked.

And then he kissed you — really kissed you — deep, slow, and devastating, his hand holding your face like he was scared you'd disappear. One of your hands slid into his hair, the other clutched at his waist, anchoring yourself to him as the world narrowed to nothing but the feel of him, the taste of him.

"Stay right here," he said, kissing the corner of your lips, then lower, along your jaw. "Let me taste my Christmas present nice and slow."

You barely had time to gasp before he shifted, pushing the covers aside to lower himself down your body with sinful intent. 

When he pressed his mouth just above your hipbone, a soft, desperate sound slipped from the back of your throat. He chuckled low, the vibration sinking into your skin like a brand.

"Mmm, that's it," he whispered, lips kissing the other hipbone. "All mine, pretty girl. Gonna make you feel so good you forget there's even a tree downstairs." he cooed.

Your hands flew to his hair instinctively, fingers threading through the messy strands as he nudged your thighs apart, taking his time like he had all morning to worship every inch of you.

And when his mouth finally found you, he drew warm, slow, devastating circles into your clit — making you arch into him and pray the house stayed quiet just a little longer.

“Fuck baby, please don’t stop…” You pleaded, panting softly, biting your lip to hold back a moan. 

His tongue slid up your slit slowly before he began drawing love letters with his tongue on your clit. The coil wound tighter and tighter with each motion. 

You gripped onto his hair and whimpered as you felt a wave of pleasure cascade down your body. Your back arched and nipples perked as your high took you to the clouds as his tongue drank in your sweetness. 

He came to a slow stop and hummed in satisfaction before slowly kissing the inside of your thigh, softly sucking a love mark into it, “You taste so sweet, mi vida…” he grinned as he looked up at you.

You bit your bottom lip, blushing and breathlessly giggled, “God, you’re somethin’ else, Joel Miller…” 

He chuckled lowly and came up to capture your lips with his in a slow, deep kiss, groaning softly as you pulled him close by threading your fingers through his hair. You tasted your sweetness on his lips, sending a wave of arousal to your core.  

Your lips tangoed in a heated and passionate fit of kisses before he pulled back a few inches and smirked, cupping your cheek as he growled. "Merry Christmas, baby... now be a good girl and spread those pretty thighs for me..." he kissed you once, deeply and slowly, "I wanna bury myself deep inside you..."

Your breath caught somewhere in the middle of your throat at his confession, and your cheeks turned red as a slow grin spread across your lips. “Yes, sir…”

You spread your thighs, and he immediately lined himself up before slowly sinking deep into your warmth. 

You both sharply gasped in unison, his forehead leaning against yours. 

His jaw tightened, and he gripped your waist as you pulled him deeper, grunting and eyes fluttering closed. 

He groaned and began slowly thrusting himself into you. His hips achingly being pulled back in by your tightness, causing him to shiver and let out a weak chuckle, “Fuck baby. If you weren’t already pregnant I’d be givin’ you that for Christmas with how good you’re pullin’ my cock deep inside you…” he grunted. 

You grinned and moaned before you began to grind your hips with his to create just another level of stimulation. You whimpered his name as added friction of his pubic hair rubbing against your clit was just enough to send you barreling towards the edge. 

A sinful grin stretched across his lips as he gently nibbled at your jawline and chin, "Fuck… nothing else I could unwrap today will ever feel as good as hearing you whimper my name while you’re wrapped around my cock..."

You panted and mewled, grinning as your fingers tangled in his hair, “You’re being a very naughty boy with how you’re talkin’ to me Mr. Miller…” You gently tugged on his hair, moaning as he moved down to mark your neck. 

He growled against your collarbone, “Mmm baby you’re not actin’ so nice yourself.” He started to thrust a little bit faster, making you gasp and clench around him. 

“In fact — with how you’re layin’ here... with your legs spread wide, my baby in your belly and still moanin’ for my cock… I’d say you’ve been a very naughty girl this year.” he moved up to cup your cheek and hover his lips over yours as his hips sped up more. 

You grinned and hummed sinfully as your eyes found his, “See I would argue the opposite... that by me doing all that, especially with the child of yours in my womb, I'm a go-…” your jaw slacking open as you felt an orgasm fast approaching, letting out a moan, your hand flying to grab his arm that held your cheek, “F-Fuck... right there…” you pleaded. 

He growled and kept the same momentum, moving his other hand to the back of your knee, pulling it up and out to get more access to you. His eyes never leaving yours as he lowly muttered, “You think you’re a good girl by that logic?” 

Something snapped inside you — hearing him call you a good girl —and you felt a wave crash over you. 

You whimpered and your eyebrows furrowed as you pathetically nodded and murmured over and over a couple times, “Yes… Yes…” as you came on his cock. 

He grinned devilishly realizing the term and its effect on you. He bit his lip watching you come undone as kept the pace and nodded with you, coaxing you through your high, “Mmm, you love hearing that, don’t you? Good girl...” 

You nodded and fluttered your eyes closed, your breath suddenly catching in the back of your throat. Your aching cunt pulsing around him.

He nudged your nose and panted, groaning as he sunk his lips down to mark your neck, “Good girl — now stay just like that.”

He could taste the sweet salty sweat that had dusted your skin under the heavy comforter and heat of his body which drove his hips to snap up in speed unconsciously. 

You felt over-stimulated and began trying to reach another peak of release by pinching your nipples between your bodies as he nibbled the soft spot on your neck — which made you moan a little louder than expected. 

“Shh baby, I need more time,” He moved his head and leaned up. He then began kissing you feverishly, pulling your leg up more as his hips began slowing down — more controlled strokes to settle you down. 

“Be a good girl… give me more time before we’re beckoned downstairs…” he whispered against your lips. 

You nodded and placed your hand over his chest. You felt his heart pounding against your palm. He was also coated in a thin layer of sweat himself. His hair fell forward onto his forehead, some of the hairs curling due to the sweat. 

You reached up to capture his bottom lip gently and pulled back to tease him, “Get on your back…” you pushed on his chest lightly to get him lay down. 

He chuckled lowly and slowly fell onto his back, pulling you with to straddle him, “Mmm you know how much I like this angle don’t you?” he ran his hand up your body — across the swell of your belly and in between your breasts to rest on your heart. It pounded against his palm.

You nodded, "You like to see your work..." You bit your lip and placed your hands behind yourself onto his thighs, arching your back a little so your bump and breasts were on display for him. 

His eyes widened slightly and then fluttered closed shortly after, his hands moved to grip your hips and he whimpered feeling his cock deep inside you, “F-Fuck that’s a good girl…” 

You began slowly bouncing up and down, your heart beating so quickly you could hear it in your own ears, “God, eres tan tonto...” (You’re so thick) Your breathing sped up as you felt a tug starting to bloom deep in your core. 

He grunted and began panting heavily as he felt you tighten around him, “That’s it baby… don’t stop… fuck…” he grinned feeling a deep pull himself in his navel. 

Your voice cracked as your head fell back, moaning his name as you came, your hips stuttering and began circle with him deep inside you. 

He grunted lowly and nodded, “That’s a good girl, cum for me…” 

Your hips stalled for a moment and you looked down at him still reeling from your orgasm. Your breath heavy, and legs weak. 

He looked up at you like he couldn’t hold it back another second — eyes dark, hungry, his hand already sliding around your waist, pulling you down in as close as he could. “Come ‘ere…”

And then he kissed you.

Not soft. Not hesitant. It was the kind of kiss that stole the air from your lungs, that made your body burn with desire. One that tasted like want and need and everything you hadn’t needed to say to each other. 

His mouth slanted over yours, lips full and firm, and when his tongue slipped past your lips — slow, deliberate, teasing — you let out a soft sound and melted against him. You began rocking your hips up and down on his cock, riding him nice and slow — giving him more time. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging just a little, and he groaned low in his chest, one hand gripping your lower back, the other rising to cradle your jaw tenderly. He sat up to have you more so sitting in his lap and moved your feet to wrap around him. 

His hands were everywhere and your tongues slid together, tasting, teasing, deepening the kiss until it felt like everything else disappeared — like time stopped just to let you both exist here, wrapped up in heat and heartbeats.

When both of you finally pulled apart, breathless — he rested his forehead against yours, groaning softly at the disconnect, “Let me do the work, let me…” he whispered before he began rocking his hips up into you. 

You nodded and panted heavily, exhaustion setting in, “I love you…” you whimpered, cupping his cheeks, pulling him in close to you. 

He brushed your hair back and cupped your cheek as well, whispering as he went back to kissing your lips tenderly, “I love you…” 

He kissed you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, tender and soft but filled with every ounce of passion he could pack into a series of kisses. He moved his hand down and began rocking your hips as he rocked his, slowly building tension and momentum.  

When he felt the pull deepen he pulled from your lips and pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes shutting and body tensing as he felt the coil snap followed by a wave of pleasure as he came deep up inside of you — whimpering your name like it was a prayer he couldn’t stop repeating, even when his voice was barely there. 

—

After you both came down from your highs, you ended up dozing off back to sleep.

He brushed your hair back, and his voice lulled you to sleep as he told you the story of Sarah coming to wake him up a few Christmases ago. How she and Tommy scared the shit out of him when they both came in together to prank him by jumping on the bed to wake him up. 

You didn't know how long you were out for, but you woke to the smell that hit you like a memory wrapped in a hug: warm, yeasty, and sweet cinnamon.

You blinked awake, stunned to find Joel not in bed next to you.

You quickly got up and dressed before padding down the stairs to find Joel standing in the kitchen — hair mussed, T-shirt wrinkled, flour dusted on his matching Christmas flannel pajama pants you all were wearing together this year. A proud, sheepish grin stretched across his face.

"Merry Christmas, mi vida," he said, holding up a tray of unbaked cinnamon rolls.

Sarah sat at the island grinning wildly, already wearing one of your aprons that was a little too big for her. 

"We saved the icing for you," she said brightly, holding out a spatula.

You covered your mouth, laughing through the tears that rushed to your eyes.

Joel crossed the kitchen in three long strides, setting the tray down and cupping your face in his big, floury hands. He kissed you once, slow and sure, and whispered:

"Let’s make some Christmas memories, my love."

And that’s exactly what you did — laughing, baking, and burning the first batch just a little.

But all in good fun – who wouldn't with the excitement of all the presents under the tree?

Previous Chapter - Final Chapter

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[pumkinzee]

DATING JASON GRACE

request: ˋˋ Hey! I love your Jason Grace post sm!! I was wondering if you could maybe do like headcanons for Jason Grace dating a Hades/Pluto kid? Maybe sprinkle in some nsfw if you’re okay with it? if not don’t even worry i will happily take what i can get!! thank you sm!!! ˊˊ

pairing: Jason Grace x gn!Hades!reader

a/n: I said it in the Percy post, PENDEJO ENOUGH TO DELET ACCIDENTLY

⌑ - English isn't my first language so I'm using a translator and my basic knowledge of the language!

𝐑equest 𝐨pens! + 𝐫ules!

The first thing he felt was fear, all his life he was raised to be in control of the situation, and he thought he was slowly getting it when he was with you, he just didn't have it programmed in that he couldn't control his heart rate when you approached, or the way his hands sweated on the handle of his sword when you looked at him, he was being clumsy and that scared him. When he finally realized that being in love was not synonymous with being weak, he started planning how to approach you, every move, learning your expressions, how you reacted, how you fought, how to flirt, he really studied you and planned how to make you his.

I've said it before and I'll keep saying it, this man is too much of a gentleman, for his own good, he pulls your chair up to the table, sits after you, gives you his jacket, helps you jump over mud puddles, puts his hand on the corner of the table when you bend over, walks down the street, pays for all your dinners, there's nothing he won't do for you, I've said it here before

So, you are a child of Hades. Let's start with that he has respect for you, he knows your place and how powerful you are being a child of the big three, since he is one, he knows what it's like to have the pressure of everyone, he gives you your space and his unconditional support, whenever you need him you are guaranteed to have him with open arms.

He's a little scared of your father, we all know what Hades and Zeus' relationship is like, I often think about how he tries to make you feel fantastic not only because of how much he loves you (and that you are literally his world) but to impress your father a little. He doesn't succeed, but at least he means well.

Your styles are quite opposite, especially in clothing, he will wear white sweaters, button down shirts or anything that looks fancy outside of camp, at the same time he gets used to seeing you in leather jackets, boots or black makeup because he thinks you look cool. He confirms this.

He is very patient, more than any of us here are, he is calculating and usually takes things slowly, but he knows how to work under pressure, if you ever need to make a quick decision without time to analyze the environment, I assure you that he is already three steps ahead of you. He likes cuddles, just like anyone else, only he is... complicated. He is very rigid, he is not always ready to hug you back, sometimes spontaneous hugs make him react slightly violent, like a slap or turning around faster than he should, all thanks to his camp, but as soon as he realizes it's you, he softens up. It's hard enough for you to break his shell and he'll let you hug him.

If you are similar to Nico, meaning both in personality and in having lost someone, he is a very good listener, he will take a few seconds to analyze what you said and think of a response, he is not a psychologist, but he knows how to make you feel that you fit in, at least with him.

If your powers leave you constantly exhausted, he is there to hold you up if your legs get weak, sometimes scolding you when you overexert yourself and end up even more exhausted.

I write this thinking of Hades and not Pluto (although you can consider him as outside) so he likes you to be in his cabin, he likes to be with you cuddled up in your cold cabin if it wasn't for Nico, so when Nico is, you're usually in various places but not your cabin, too cold and gloomy, almost looks like depression factory.

The military badges with your initials, when he trains, jingle against his sweaty chest and he remembers that, even when he is exhausted training, he knows you are there.

His protective instinct is very high, he doesn't want anything to happen to you, he is always on the lookout for you, like a police dog that gets upset when he hears a branch break near where you are.

nsfw cut!

He is careful, let's put it that way. I have mentioned this section before, but he almost always knows what he is doing, he is careful and delicate, he memorizes every part of your body before even laying a hand on you, he would take his time to find out what you like and what you don't like.

Limits are the most important thing to him, even when he gets lost in pleasure, he is aware of what you like and what you don't, your pleasure is his priority.

I'm not good at doing sex fics, BUT, I'm not going to let it go unnoticed that this man has a huge dick. Son of the big three, huh, son of Zeus. My gods.

His hands are always either on your waist or on your wrists, holding them above your head, he only does this when he's desperate and having a hard time being a gentleman. He digs his nails into the flesh of your waist, leaving bruises he'd apologize for and take care of, but in the moment, he's lost, hitting you hard enough to leave you with a sore hip the next day.

He spreads his legs and sits you on his thigh, his hands on your waist, under your shirt, leaning down and devouring your neck, whispering to you everything from the most romantic to the dirtiest things that even I can't think of. He leaves you a kiss on the back of your neck and lets you go, because he's busy.

Sex in public? Dream on. He wants to do things right, public sex equals quickies, and he's conflicted about this.

He puts his hand between your thighs when they're in public, he doesn't go past that, he takes it upon himself to move it up to your intimate part and throw little sparks with his fingers. Don't wait any longer.

©pumkinzee

[sandcobangevent]

The touch of your hand (says you'll catch me)

By @abstractfrog and CeruleanJen

John’s heart leaves a visible, viscous trail upon everything he comes into contact with.

It oozes love.

Sherlock had never understood the saying of someone “wearing their heart on their sleeve” until he’d met Doctor John Hamish Watson and the constant, sticky stain of affection that he wore day in, day out. John’s heart oozes with his feelings for the world around him and the people who live in it.

It had been unsettling when they’d first met, just how messy John had been with it all – mess wasn’t something that Sherlock had been accustomed to.

Now, he couldn’t picture a life without it.

Sherlock’s childhood had been almost clinically clean. His parents, when they had been there, barely left a smudge. They’d never really planned on a second child, not when their first was already due to start attending boarding school and their careers were taking off so well. They’d loved him in their own way, but it had been a sterile love to match their sterile lives.

His brother had been a little messier than their parents - flecks of affection in the encouraging noises made when Sherlock would enthuse about his latest interests, fingerprint stains on the letters he’d write home, the lightest impression of hands when he awkwardly hugged him because Sherlock’s blanket wasn’t working well enough.

But Mycroft was usually away at boarding school and then university, and he’d always been touch-averse even without learning their parents’ hands-off form of love. He didn’t know how to leave a mark that would last.

John, by contrast, doesn’t seem able to stop leaving marks.

Even the lightest touch – a brush of fingers against Sherlock’s shoulder as he passes behind, a gentle shoulder bump as they both try to make use of their tiny, messy kitchen – leaves visible signs, ones that take forever to wash away.

Nowadays, it’s rare for Sherlock to look in the mirror and find himself unblemished. He’s unsure when exactly his attitude towards it altered from resigned acceptance to relieved fondness, but alter it did, and a day where he doesn’t bear some mark of John’s affection for him leaves him more unsettled than he ever felt with the marks before.

-

School had been an often-overwhelming experience for Sherlock. The other children had been messy - and it had been a type of mess that was too much for him to cope with. It was loud, and sharp, as they yelled and shoved and teased . It had hurt, dark marks seeming like mud and bruises, and had been so much that he’d recoiled from it, appalled. He’d pulled away, avoided any contact and blocked out the harsh words about how he didn’t fit in with their chaos.

Better for him to remain spotless than for him to suffer the oil spill of everyone else’s emotions.

That avoidance of others had carried on into his adult years – he’d kept his own company, a barrier between himself and the rest of the world that either erupted with emotion or avoided him in turn.

So when he’d met John Watson, taken in the emotion that had oozed from his chest like Sherlock’s own stab wound oozed blood, he’d been certain that Stamford’s introduction had been pointless. Why would he want to spend time in the same place as a person so messy? When being sullied by the other’s feelings would be both unavoidable and likely to burn?

Except, to his shock, the smudge John had left across the surgical thread as he stitched up his wound… hadn’t hurt. It was warm, and smooth, little of it that there was. It had been strangely comforting, like a patch of sunlight dappling across his skin, warming him. It almost felt as though the pain had been lessened by this substance, had been soothed as though it were aloe vera over a sunburn.

Very fitting, for a doctor.

-

The Holmes’ house - never quite a home - was minimalist in decor, and was spotless thanks to the dedicated efforts of the cleaning services his parents employed. The marble floors sparkled, the hardwood furniture gleamed. It gave the impression of a showroom, more than the household of a family with two boys.

The fridge in their kitchen – top of the range, like all the other appliances – had shown only Sherlock’s reflection staring back at him when he looked at it. It’s metallic surface bare of any signs about the family who used it. A sign in and of itself.

It was bright, and cold, and clean.

The fridge at 221B is barely visible underneath the myriad magnets and photographs scattered across it, each item glistening with John’s affection.

The small “I <3 Scotland” magnet John bought from the one souvenir shop on Fjara is sticky across the cartoon heart, and sat at an odd angle to fit one corner of the takeaway menu it held up.

Towards the centre of the fridge, the photograph of Sherlock and John taken by Mariana during a trip to the Science Museum bears countless fingerprints from where John held its corners, fussing over the best placement for it amongst the others.

The letters and artwork from listeners, each one cherished as if it were a priceless artefact, all drip with the stain of John’s love, but remain somehow intact despite it. Looking at the mess brings a glow of warmth to Sherlock’s chest.

-

John’s affection spreads outward from his chest in a non-stop flow. It’s truly unsurprising how he ends up leaving trails on everything.

It seeps across his abdomen and over his arms when he offers Sherlock a grounding hug, making them even better. The impression of John’s hold on him remains long after the man has let go, a phantom weight that continues to provide comfort even hours after the event.

On particularly hard days, Sherlock will stare at his reflection afterwards, studying the definition in the damp silhouette of John’s care over his chest, across his shoulders, and accept the empirical evidence that he is loved.

It gathers over his palms, leaving warm impressions of his hands over everything he picks up. When Mariana is sick, John spends hours in their kitchen, making her bowls of soup. As he does, he leaves his fingerprints across the wooden spoon and the pot handle, decorates the sides of the bowl as he holds it steady and carries it downstairs.

They appear - and remain - on the various gifts he provides. The prints across Sherlock’s ear defenders are a permanent stain, a wonderful contrast to his engraved initials and an extra layer of noise protection.

The same can be said for his birthday presents a year later - the violin case has John’s thumbprint across a corner of the silver plaque, and Sherlock has a full set of his prints from the birthday card that accompanied it, kept safe in a drawer in his room.

Whenever he holds Sherlock’s hands between his own, tackling the chill in the air and the detective’s horrific blood circulation, Sherlock can’t tell whether they are warmed more by John’s body heat or the ooze that is left behind when he eventually lets go. An insulating warmth, protecting him as much as John himself does.

It even soaks into his voice as he talks to the listeners during cases and mailbags, chatting away as though they’re his friends. He has read the comments from the Discord, sees that - despite their teasing - the fans love John just as fiercely as he loves them, and they know that he does, too.

That same warmth appears in John’s tone as he chatters about everything and nothing when Sherlock desperately needs the comfort of a calm, steady voice to cling to, an anchor in the storm. On days where touch is too painful for Sherlock to accept, John is still able to stain him in a quiet love, a balm that’s both weightless and all-encompassing.

The fact that he’s able to do so, even despite his own nature, still takes Sherlock’s breath away.

He is naturally tactile person, especially with those he’s close to. He leans into their space, dripping, without conscious thought. Makes eye contact, reaches out, touches.

And yet he never pushes Sherlock. Never assumes he has the right to contact, never forces it. If anything, he seems to war between his deep-seated need for contact versus an unwillingness to cause unwanted stains.

And the wants of others triumph, every time.

He’d sooner drip in solitude, or fight back the seeping fluid that stems from his too-large heart, than leave a single spot on a person if there’s a chance it could harm them.

It’s that complete control, almost self-destructive at times, that removes the same pain other people’s emotions generally cause. That allows Sherlock the certainty that John’s love would never harm, only heal.

John Watson’s heart oozes love, and Sherlock Holmes wishes to be drowned in it for the rest of his life.

[writtenapoiogy]

sudden desire | prev chapter <<< chapter two >>> next chapter

satoru gojo x f!reader (18+) SMUT, angst, & fluff

art by linobii_

chap wc; 2.8k (sorry its so short next chap will be longer!!)

chap warnings; angst, no smut, or fluff, more talk about feelings, interrupted conversations, gojo yearning after reader, and alcohol consumption

a/n; i dont know why it took me forever to write this chapter im so sorry i really hope you all enjoy this chapter and story so far just as much as im enjoying writing it!

series masterlist

It had been three months since you last saw and spoke to Satoru. A week after that night at your apartment, you gathered all of his stuff and took it over to his home. You tried not to be cold with him but you had to for yourself. If you two were casual again you couldn’t trust yourself to not let him fall into your bed again. 

Within those three months you had only been on four dates. 

And not a single one of them met the requirements you set. Requirements that all eerily reminded you of the man you were desperately trying to forget. 

Desperately trying to let go of.

Satoru on the other hand—couldn’t get you out of his mind. He tried to check your socials but you barely posted up there. He contemplated asking Mira what you had been up to but Suguru had mentioned how she was becoming a bit of a bridezilla as the wedding drew closer. And he couldn’t possibly ask Suguru cause that would be weird and raise suspicions right?

He could not wait for tonight. The Rehearsal Dinner. He would finally be able to see you again. 

You, however, were thinking of all the ways to evade him these next three days. You finished packing your bag and got dressed for the night.

Satoru was actually going to be on time for once in his life. 

He had his outfit planned at the start of his day and packed his bag the night before. And one thing about Satoru Gojo, he was never punctual. He wanted to make sure he looked good for you. He just wanted to be able to talk to you again. He missed you and he wasn’t afraid to say it.

Satoru stood in the corner directly across from the entrance of the restaurant as he waited for you to arrive.

And, yes, you heard that correctly Satoru was actually on time. He wanted to get there as soon as possible so he had more time to get to talk to you.

He felt like he had been on vocal rest. Not realizing just how much you and him talked, just how much time the two of you actually spent with each other.

His heart felt like it was lurching out of his chest every time he thought about you. Every single time you crossed his mind. In the past three months which was ninety-one days, he had been counting, he had contemplated confessing to you and Suguru. He was seeing what his life would have been like without you in it and he wasn’t liking it. At. Fucking. All. But he couldn’t risk the only family he had now could he?

Satoru was standing at the other side of the room, directly across from the entrance. He wanted to see you as soon as you walked in. His eyes shifted to the door every time he heard it open. Not paying any attention to the dull conversation being had right next to him.

And when you finally showed up he choked on his drink as soon as his eyes landed on you and he is so glad he didn’t have a coughing fit. You were in a beautiful navy blue cocktail dress that hugged your curves just right. 

You arrived late. Twenty minutes late to be exact and you couldn’t stop cursing at yourself. You were the maid of honor and the sister of the groom for God’s sake.

You could feel his eyes on you as soon as you entered the building. The hair on the back of your neck stood up. You needed to avoid him to the best of your abilities. You made a huge deal about not wanting to waste time with him when you could’ve been finding the one and you have nothing to show for it. You made a beeline straight for Mira and gave her a hug, apologizing for your lateness.

Mira accepted your apology before getting everyone’s attention. “Looks like everyone is here, lets get this show on the road, shall we! Everyone can grab a drink to hold them off till dinner if you’d like.”

Right when the words left her mouth you felt Satoru’s presence right behind you and his cologne engulfed you. “Your favorite,” he spoke dangerously close to your ear. You turned and he handed you a champagne flute and you took it with small thank you—refusing to look him in his eyes. Those eyes that can make your knees weak in a second. Those same eyes that bore into yours as he took you apart multiple times.

Satoru frowned when he realized what you were doing. It may have hurt but he was anything but not persistent. He was going to find a way to talk you. He dipped his head down trying to meet your eyes, “You look beautiful.”

You briefly met his daring blue eyes before looking away. You spat out a quick excuse and dipped away from him. “I think Mira’s calling me..”

Satoru laughed at your weak excuse. Hearing your voice alone made him feel like he was floating. His eyes followed your every step as you walked away. He craved for you to be his and you were slipping through his fingertips like water. If only he could find a way for you to be fine with still being with him in secret. No one to perceive or attempt to ruin something so beautiful. If only you would see it his way if only you would see the good with keeping it between the two of you. If only, he thought.

The walk through of the ceremony went smoothly and you made it the whole time without sparing one glance at Satoru. You were really proud of yourself. But now was time for dinner and of course the laid back couple choose a buffet and not a fancy dinner where you could attempt to avoid the tall man with the piercing gaze.

You sipped on a glass of water making sure not to drink a sip of alcohol because you couldn’t trust yourself. You knew you would find yourself in bed with him, again. History forever repeating itself and you had to be stronger than that. The only way you would sleep with him again is if the two of you were actually together. You didn’t want to hide in the shadows. Love deserves to be shouted from the tallest skyscrapers.

You saw him approaching you from your peripheral and immediately tried to get out of his field of view. But Satoru was already hot on your heels. 

He wrapped his long fingers around your wrist, capturing the bracelet he got you underneath his touch. “Hey. Could you just talk to me? It’s weird.”

“We did talk, Gojo.” You continued to walk and he followed with your wrist still in his hand. You couldn’t lie and say that his touch didn’t light a fire beneath your skin.

“Don’t call me that. We’re closer than that.”

You finally stopped running and took a deep breath when he eventually let go of your wrist. “What do you want?” You turned to face him. You looked around you two to make sure no one was looking.

“I want to talk to you. I haven’t heard from you in like three months. Okay?” He said like he hadn’t been keeping a mental tab of how many days it had actually been. “I’m kinda having hard time adjusting.”

“What are we supposed to talk about? My dates?” You mumble around the rim of your glass before taking a sip of your water.

“You’re seeing someone?” He asked quick. Too quick. But the thought alone made a small crack in his heart form. He mentally slapped himself in the face for being so eager for your answer.

You kept your head down, “no.. I’ve, um, just been on a few dates.” you fidgeted with your bracelet. You lifted your head up and finally held eye contact with him for the first time that night. “No one really fit, I guess.” And no one did. No one fit that mold. That mold of your heart that Satoru Gojo had shaped piece by piece and brick by brick himself.

Satoru felt the air in his lungs get sucked out of him. Your beautiful eyes finally meeting his. He was struggling to find the words to say to you and before he even had the chance, Suguru was calling out to you stealing away his only opportunity to talk to you, alone.

He didn’t know if hope is what he was searching for. Hope that maybe you would cave and be his under his circumstances. Satoru dragged his hands down his face and then headed to the open bar. He needed a drink.

Right after dinner finished you hurried to you car after hugging the bride and groom goodbye. You successfully went the rest of the dinner without having to talk to Satoru, now you just had to make it to the car. But who were you to think it would be that easy when dealing with Satoru Gojo. You heard the door open up behind you and you didn’t bother turning around—already knowing who it was.

The white haired and blue eyed man called out to you but your feet never stopped. You kept heading for your car to escape his presence for the evening and peacefully cry by yourself. He met you right when you went to hop into the driver seat. His grip on the top of the door was strong. “Would you please just talk to me? Please?”

You threw your purse into the passenger seat and turned to face him. “Did we not just talk?”

“No. I wanna talk about us.” He insisted. 

A loud sigh left mouth and you shut your eyes, “We already did.”

“No, you did.” Satoru started.

You narrowed your eyes at him with a heated glare.

“You were angry and I didn’t want to go back and forth with you, so would you please.” He was so close to dropping to the ground and begging you just to talk to him.

Knowing him and knowing he would not let up. “You have five minutes.” You cross your arms and focus in on him.

“Ten.” He tried to negotiate.

“Five.” you declared.

“Eight.”

“Five, Gojo. Before I change my mind and pull off.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. If this was his only chance to talk to you this weekend than he was going to make the best of it. “Your brother would actually kill me.”

You scoffed, “This, again?”

“Yes. This again. Because I don’t think you understood the last time. You think this isn’t what I want. This is all I want. You’re all I want.” The alcohol in his system made the words fly off his tongue like butter. But he couldn’t help but feel like his words were a little too late. “But you and Suguru are the only family I have. I can’t lose that.”

“If you really wanted me you would fight back. No matter what my brother might say, You would fight for me. You would fight for us. Satoru, I’m not trying to take your family away. I of all people get family.” Your mom and dad had passed in a terrible accident when you were nine years old and since then you’d never been able to see time the same again. 

His eyes traced your face and his features softened. “I know. I know.” He nodded. “I miss you.” He really did, more than anything. He missed your voice and the way you said his name. He missed your laugh and the way you would look at him when no one was looking—when you thought he wasn’t looking.

“You could’ve had me.” Your head falls to the side. The facade you had put up slightly breaking. You were exhausted. He was the only thing getting in the way. “We both agreed we could never be casual after that. After everything. This is me not being casual.” You let your words hang in the air for a moment. “And have you ever considered that maybe Suguru wouldn’t give a shit. That maybe he would just be happy for us?” 

Satoru let your words sit. He wanted nothing more than to just be able to reach out to you and kiss you. He hated seeing you like this. So broken. So exhausted and hurt. As if almost on cue, Suguru walked out with his bride to be wrapped around his arm. Satoru turned his head when he heard the door open.

Suguru looked like he was absolutely glowing. Both him and Mira. And Satoru thought, he would do anything to be with you like that. Happy and nothing able to penetrate their bubble. But nothing was ever that simple for him.

Your gaze followed his and found the happy couple and you felt the smallest lump in your throat form. What you wanted and who you wanted was standing right in front of you but still so far away and it was eating you alive.

They walked up to the two of you, “What are you two up to?” Mira chirped. “You looked so tired I thought you’d be half way to the cabin by now.”

“Guess I slowed her down making sure she made it to her car.” Satoru responded a charming smile adorning his face.

“How sweet of you, Satoru.” Suguru said, ruffling his best friends hair. “Can always trust you to look after my baby sister.” Oh he had no idea.

Satoru shoved his hand out of his hair, “Of course man. Always.” His eyes briefly met yours with a hint of something more. Something deeper. He would always keep you safe. He would protect you no matter what and Suguru had no idea just how much.

You cleared your throat. Hushed secrets lingered in the air. You needed to get out of there. “Goodnight you guys.” You walked over to the two of them and gave them a little dual hug. “I can’t wait to see how beautiful the wedding turns out tomorrow.” You kissed both of their cheeks before heading back to your car.

“We were gonna go check out a bar down the street, the two of you are free to join us. If you’re up for it.” Mira spoke.

Satoru’s head snapped in your direction. He felt his heart leap at the thought of being able to spend time with you again. “Like old times.” His smile was wicked and he knew it. An underlying tone to his words. Reminding you of that night. That first night. 

“No, I should probably get going. Gotta make sure my favorite couples day all goes according to plan.” You offered a half smile as you attempted to hide your pain. “Goodnight, Gojo.”

Satoru had just finished his third beer and immediately went to open the next.

“Phew you might wanna slow down there, best man.” Suguru said to his best friend but only received a glare in return. “What’s got you so in the mood to drink yourself into a coma.”

“I don’t think four beers s'enough to do that Sugu.” Satoru slurred.

Mira had kept her eye on the white haired man since the night had begun. He was more quiet and reserved than normal. His eyes never left the entrance till you walked in, of course and that’s when she started to piece some things together.

How every time the four of you hung out these past two years, you and Satoru always migrated towards each other. Most days felt like a double date rather than a hangout and that never bothered you two now did it. Most people would’ve been appalled at the implications but you two embraced them. Embraced the idea of you two being a couple.

“You seeing anyone, Satoru?” Mira blurted out. Her eyes taking in every little movement of his features. Looking, searching for something.

“No.” Satoru responded sharply.

“You know, now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve heard you mention a girl in a while.” Suguru added. 

“Got other things to worry about.” Satoru offered in hopes to change the direction of the conversation. He couldn’t help the wave of guilt that flooded his body. Guilty that he betrayed Suguru. Guilty because he knew Suguru trusted him with you. Your overprotective brother that threatened any boy that merely looked in your direction, would gladly leave Satoru Gojo alone with you cause he knew he would keep you safe.

And just like you said those few months ago, Satoru had betrayed that trust that night he took you to bed. And he was willing to take that with him to the grave. He was ready to take his love for you to the grave. Or so he thought.

Satoru went deafeningly silent and Mira took note of it. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure about her findings, but she had an inkling that there was something more going on between you and Satoru Gojo than you had let on.

a/n; i finally found a writing flow that works for me and am able to write more than a 100 words in one day so i really hope to get these next chapters out in a timely manner and not take a month to write one AGAIN IM SORRYYY. chap 3 will be longer and angsty and we'll see some jealous satoru so stay tuned!

taglist; @gojoful @tqd4455

taglist is still open comment under this post to be added!

[turquoisemagpie]

Whenever life gets me down, I always think of a specific 1 star review on Google reviews for Paulo Coelho’s the Alchemist.

For context during the pandemic, myself and my friends had a lot of post-dnd session late night chats over zoom. It evolved into a book club, each person suggesting a book that was classed by our own definitions as ‘interesting’; they didn’t have to be ‘good books’ or classical novels, heck they didn’t even have to make us feel good after reading it (Susan Hill’s I’m the King of the Castle being a heck of a depressing read but still an interesting one at that). One friend of mine who had suggested to me her own master pieces of Hermann Hesse suggested for our group to read The Alchemist.

We did. It’s definitely one of those books that I call ‘Marmite’, in that people either love it or hate it. I was more into stories with deeper philosophical exploration, however for those who aren’t familiar with philosophy, I think that book is a good place to start. An honest 7-8/10: not too special but I’m glad a book like it exists.

During our discussion another friend decided to Google reviews… and found THIS goldmine of the most pretentious, most OTT response to a reasonably small book ever:

Maybe it was the mania of being stuck inside for months at that point, but we couldn’t help but laugh our heads off. Some notes on why I hatefully love this review:

It reads more like a wizards’ curse than a review, and thus my friends and I have read it all in multiple austere voices

I’m sure halfway through this person just opened a thesaurus to find more words to use, which is why they sounds like a Victorian scholar with some of the longer words used

“I seldom do this: writing reviews” I’m sure is 87% a lie, the 13% uncertainty being that this person writes like the journal entries of a Lovecraftian protagonist, and thus keeps their writings to themselves.

My friends and I have agreed this was most likely penned by a cis man, and one that may have watched too many episodes of Netflix’s Ancient Apocalypse while in college for business studies.

My friends and I agreed that if any of us get any opportunity to make merch, we’ll get the entirety of this review reconstructed onto a replica of The Emerald Tablet. It seems fitting.

(… not sure what this post is, just felt like sharing it. XD)