#but maybe you were closer than you thought

[a-casxandra]

❝𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫.❞ part 2

Caleb as your boyfriend x you (non-mc), birthday angst.

𝗖𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗯'𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝘃

Caleb had never noticed it before—not really.

The way your smile never quite reached your eyes these days. The way your fingers fidgeted in your lap when MC leaned a little too close. The way Gideon looked at you with something that resembled… pity.

He thought things were fine. You never complained. You were always understanding. Supportive. Gentle. So he convinced himself you were okay.

That night at the club, he hadn’t thought twice about offering MC his jacket. She was cold, drunk. He didn’t even see your bare arms shivering just inches away. Didn’t notice the way your lips pressed into a tight line when MC clung to him in her usual, tipsy way.

Didn’t realize how wrong it all looked—until much, much later.

It wasn’t until he saw Gideon hand you his jacket, and you hesitated, almost embarrassed, that something in his chest stirred. A flicker. Just a flicker.

He should’ve checked in.

But MC laughed, and his attention shifted again. It always did.

Caleb had always thought love would be obvious.

Loud. Chaotic. Unavoidable. Like the kind he saw in movies, or felt years ago, when he was young and stupid and MC was the girl next door with a crooked smile and dreams bigger than both of them.

But maybe that was the problem.

He didn’t realize love could also be quiet.

Like someone sitting on his right side all night.

Someone who didn’t need to speak to be loud.

Someone who didn’t cry even when he deserved to be yelled at.

He didn’t realize until you were gone.

Caleb noticed your silence the morning after his birthday.

No good morning kiss. No breakfast for two. No light footsteps moving through the kitchen.

Just... silence. The kind that made his chest tight.

He walked into the living room. Your phone was gone. So was your jacket. The dress from last night? Folded neatly on the chair.

His heart sank.

A note sat on the table, your handwriting small, almost apologetic.

> “Happy birthday again. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye in person. Take care of MC. She needs you.”

He read it twice. Then again. And again.

Then he said your name out loud, like maybe if he spoke it enough, you’d answer.

You didn’t.

Day 2.

He texted.

No reply.

Day 3.

Called. Straight to voicemail.

Day 5.

He showed up at your workplace. Your co-worker said you took leave. “Needed space,” was all they offered.

Day 7.

Gideon found him sitting on the floor of his apartment, surrounded by takeout containers and empty glasses. “You look like hell,” Gideon said, pulling him up by the arm.

“I think she’s gone,” Caleb croaked. “For real this time.”

Gideon didn’t say I told you so. But the look in his eyes said everything. “You hurt her, man. You didn’t even notice. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but damn, Caleb… the way you looked at MC that night? You should’ve seen yourself.”

Caleb ran a hand through his hair, chest aching. “She’s just my childhood friend.”

“No,” Gideon said, dead serious. “She was your future. And you treated her like a seat-filler.”

One week later, Caleb finally found you.

You were at the park, sitting alone on a bench with a takeaway coffee cup in hand, face tilted toward the pale sun. You looked peaceful.

And he hated himself for wanting to disturb that peace.

Caleb stood there for a moment, just watching. Then took a slow step forward.

You noticed him before he could say your name. “I thought you’d be with MC.” Your voice wasn’t bitter. Just… tired.

Caleb winced. “She’s not the one I want to be with.”

Silence.

“I was stupid,” he continued, swallowing down the guilt. “I didn’t see what I was doing until you left.”

“No,” you said, calmly. “You saw. You just didn’t care until I finally walked away.”

Caleb froze. Because you were right.

And it hurt. Because he deserved it.

“You looked at her like she was the only one in the room,” you whispered. “And I was there the whole time, Caleb. I was there.”

He stepped closer, voice raw. “You have every right to hate me. But I—God, I miss you. I miss us. I’d do anything to fix it. Anything.”

You looked at him then. Eyes glassy, but steady. “And if MC called you drunk again tonight?" Your words were like a dagger. “If she needed you again? Would you leave me in the backseat again?”

“…No,” he whispered. “Not anymore.”

You nodded slowly, letting his answer hang in the air like fog. Then you stood, brushing off your coat. “I don’t want to be your second choice, Caleb. Not anymore. I loved you enough to accept crumbs. I loved you enough to believe your silence meant safety. But I love myself more now.”

His hands trembled, he didn't think twice as he sank down on his knees, kneeling infront of you. “Please. I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you—”

But you shook your head. “I don’t want you to make it up to me. I just want you to feel it.”

And with one last look, you turned and walked away.

Caleb kneeled there long after you disappeared, clenching his fist, throat burning.

And for the first time in years, Caleb finally understood:

𝗛𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗻’𝘁 𝗷𝘂���𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

𝗛𝗲’𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.

soo here's caleb with my mc! (●'◡'●)

[bbyg4rl]

stay the night . . .

cw: soft!protective!jj, fluff, hurt/comfort themes, implied alcohol-related trauma/panic response.

JJ’s already here by the time the sun dips below the rooftops, curled up in your bed like it’s his, hoodie half-zipped, cap tossed on your chair. He snuck in through the window with gummy worms and that crooked grin that always makes your chest feel a little lighter.

Now, he’s on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily slung around your waist. Your cheek rests against his chest, rising and falling with each slow breath, and his fingertips trace soft shapes on the fabric of your shirt.

You’re talking about duck names. JJ had been insisting his duck be named “Quackson.” when you hear it—the sound of the front door slamming, a loud crash following it, like glass or something falling. Maybe both. Then, the sound of staggered, heavy footsteps, And slurred words you can’t make out.

You freeze, go still like someone hit pause on your whole body. Your fingers twitch where they were playing with the drawstrings on JJ’s hoodie. And then, you take a shaky breath.

It’s just a tiny movement. Barely anything.

But JJ notices.

His hand stops moving on your arm. His whole body stills too. You don’t look at him, you’re staring at your wall now, eyes wide, jaw tense, your shoulders curling in on themselves before you shake your head a little, brushing it off.

You try to keep going, voice shaky and thin. “I—um, I was saying, like, if I had a duck, I’d probably…uh…name her something dumb. Like Miss Quackers, or—or maybe…” Your words fumble, lose shape, crumble mid-thought. You’re trying to say something, anything, but the rhythm’s gone. You’re stuttering now, the syllables not quite making it out right.

JJ watches you for a second, chest tight. He knows that feeling. That crash. That kind of silence that comes right after, the kind that’s trying so hard to pretend everything’s fine. He’s felt it before.

He doesn’t say anything. Just shifts, gently guiding your head back to his chest and wrapping both arms around you. “C’mere. I got you.”

You let him pull you in. And the second your cheek hits his hoodie, it’s like your lungs forget how to work. Your breathing goes fast and shallow; uneven. But JJ doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t press. “Shh,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your hair. “You’re safe. You’re okay. I promise. I’ve got you.”

Your fists twist into his hoodie and you nod, feeling him rock you slightly, swaying without even thinking. “No one’s gonna hurt you,” he says quietly, a little more serious now, “Not while I’m here.”

When you finally speak again, your voice is small and shaky against his chest. “Can you…stay tonight?”

JJ doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, baby. ‘Course I can.”

You feel him shift a little, his hand brushing your back, his chin resting on top of your head now. You nod again, still pressed to his chest, and let out a breath that shakes a little less than before.

JJ tucks you even closer. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t even have to think about it,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You finally look up at him, and your eyes are glassy but no longer scared. Just tired. A little safer. “Thank you,” you whisper.

He squeezes your arm, thumb brushing slow circles to soothe after, “Always.”

check out my other works ! masterlist

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Zayne's non-mc significant other. part2

Imagine growing up, Zayne has never been the loudest in a room. He was more of a constant quiet yet present and warm person other could lean on into. He doesn't speak often but when he does, people listen. Especially you, his lover. The one who loved him before he even knew how to love himself.

Imagine the way he watched you across the room as the two of you where now separated by a small sea of people. His eyes out of habit looked and found you. He knew that look on your face, the kind of face that others would mistake as absentmindedness but he knew that look. But he recognized the way your brows softened when you are lost in your own thoughts. He knew you were thinking. About him, maybe. About what you two have.

Imagine the way he smile softly to himself, even as he turned back to the conversation. As a joke passed around the group, he let out a small laugh, not forced, but not full either. And then something caught his attention. A familiar laugh rang out from somewhere in the room. It was bright and child like, MC. She had always laughed like that, ever since they were kids. Zayne didn't need to turn his head to know where it came from. He already knew.

Imagine she had been under his care for a while now. Her recovery had been long but she was making progress. She was strong, even if she didn't believe it. And he? He was protective of her. Not in a romantic way, but in the way that an older brother might be for a younger sibling. But that didn't stop people from speculating. The familiarity between them, the shared glances of old memories they painted as a picture, people misunderstood too easily.

Imagine, he hated that you, his lover had to see that. Especially when he caught your eyes again. Your friend was sitting next to you speaking softly. He couldn't hear what your guys were saying, but the tension in your posture told him more than words ever could. Then you look at him. No, past him before looking away. That hurt more than he expected.

Imagine Zayne love you with everything he had. From the quiet moments to the loud. From the days were you two barely spoke to the nights were he held you like a lifeline. He love you. He never said it as much as he should have, but it was always there in his actions. The way he picked up your favorite drink on his way home. The way he listened to your ramble about your day even when his own had left him drained. The way his hand always found yours under the table, steady and sure.

Imagine he knew something had shifted. Not his love. Never his love. But your trust.

Imagine he knew what it looked like. The way his eyes drifted when MC laughed. The way he softened around her. But what no one else saw, what you did not seem to realize was that it wasn't love. It was duty. About family. MC was a girl he grew up with, a patient he'd watched fight her demons tooth and nail. She was a reminder, not a desire.

Imagine, he saw it in your eyes, the creeping doubt. The belief that you were nothing but a second place to someone who wasn't even playing the same game. That realization shattered him. He remembered the conversation you two had once, late at night, your head on his chest. "Do you think you could ever love someone more than you love me?" You asked, not accusing or something, just plain curiosity.

Imagine the way he had pulled you closer, kissing the crown of your head and saying "No, there's no one else for me. Only you.” He meant it. He still meant it. But something had crept in between the two of your lately. An invisible wall neither of you had placed but both felt. It was born from the silence. From the misunderstandings. From him not being careful enough with the way others saw his kindness, and you being too quiet about how much it hurt.

Imagine watching you smile faintly at a conversation you aren't really in, Zayne felt a pang of guilt. Not because he had done anything wrong but because he hadn't done enough to make you feel safe. Loved. Chosen.

Imagine the way he wanted to cross the room. Sit beside you. Take your hand in his and whisper 'It's only ever been you.' But the timing never seemed right and maybe, you wouldn’t believe it anymore. So he stayed seated. Eyes lingering just a little too long. Not on MC. But on you. The one who had seen him. Chosen him. And loved him with a kind of quiet bravery that both terrified and humbled him.

Imagine the way he swore to himself that he'd stop being silent. Stop letting the shadows of old relationships or misunderstood bond blurs the truth. He was yours. And he'll prove it, every day from here on out.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

:happy ending? Not quite. Sorry it took so long, I was playing valorant and was editing everytime I died.

[2b4st4r]

lookkkkk what if Shanks accidentally showed his very clingy side with reader infront of his crew? I mean shanks would probably be the type who wouldn’t mind to display public affection but maybe he was just too drunk and starts acting clingy in a way(or maybe different types of actions)that the crew would not expect?

hopefully this could give you some ideas!!<33

The Red-Haired Pirates Love

Shanks x reader

Words: 4,794

Warnings: alcohol consumption, vomiting, mild language, threat of violence, and caregiving themes.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The gentle rocking of the Red Force was a familiar lullaby, one you’d grown accustomed to over your years with the Red-Haired Pirates. It was a life of salty air, boisterous laughter, and an unspoken understanding that wove through the crew like the threads of a well-worn sail. And at the heart of that understanding, for you, was Shanks.

You never needed to announce it. There were no grand declarations, no whispered confessions overheard by nosy crewmates. Instead, your relationship with Shanks was etched into the very fabric of daily life aboard the ship. It was in the way his hand would subtly find the small of your back during a heated discussion, a quiet anchor in the midst of the chaos. It was in the almost imperceptible press of his lips to your forehead when he thought no one was looking, or the soft brush against your cheek that felt more intimate than any passionate kiss. These weren't constant displays of affection, but rather fleeting moments, stolen glances, and quiet touches that spoke volumes. The crew had seen it all—the way he’d pull you a fraction closer when you were standing side-by-side on deck, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, or the almost absentminded way he’d press his lips to yours, a soft, comfortable gesture that meant more than any word.

And then there were the conversations. "Oh! That reminds me of when you wake up," Shanks might chuckle, a wide grin spreading across his face as he recounted a particularly chaotic morning escapade involving Benn Beckman and a misplaced map. The crew would glance between the two of you, a knowing glint in their eyes, before turning back to their drinks. Or perhaps you'd be admiring a particularly vibrant sunset, a rare moment of quiet contemplation, and find yourself saying, "Shanks would love that," knowing full well the kind of joy such a simple beauty would bring him. It wasn't just your words; it was the way you’d both speak of each other, not as separate entities, but as intertwined halves of a whole. Everyone saw it, everyone felt it. You were Shanks's, and he was yours, in a way that needed no formal title or public display. The crew just knew.

The night was a symphony of celebration, the red haired pirates alive with the raucous joy of the crew. Sake flowed like a river, laughter boomed, and the aroma of roasted meat mingled with the salty sea air. You, however, were an island of sobriety in the boisterous sea. Your glass remained untouched, a silent sentinel beside you. You knew all too well the consequences of Shanks's enthusiastic drinking—a charming, albeit headache-inducing, whirlwind of a man who would need your care later, and even more so in the harsh light of morning.

Your gaze, seemingly casual, drifted towards him every few moments. He was a vibrant blur in the center of the revelry, bottle after bottle disappearing down his throat with alarming speed, his booming laugh easily cutting through the din.

"And so I told Yasopp," Benn Beckman rumbled, a thoughtful puff of smoke curling from his cigarette. You were supposedly discussing the finer points of long-range marksmanship and the surprising resilience of certain sea kings. "A true sharpshooter relies on instinct, not just aim. A calculated risk, you understand?"

"Mhm," you murmured, your eyes flickering back to Shanks just as he clinked bottles with Lucky Roo, a spray of sake arcing into the air. He was already leaning heavily on Yasopp, his arm slung around the sniper's shoulders.

Benn’s observant gaze followed yours. He took another slow drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing like a tiny ember in the dim light. "He's certainly... in his element tonight," he drawled, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Worried about the hangover, are we?" It wasn't a question, more an acknowledgement of the unspoken duty you always took upon yourself.

You let out a soft laugh, a small, knowing sound that was almost lost in the din of the celebration. You brought a hand up to your temple, pressing your fingertips against your forehead as if already warding off the phantom headache that would undoubtedly be yours tomorrow. "You know it, Benn," you sighed, shaking your head good-naturedly. "He'll be a complete mess. Demanding hot towels, complaining about the light, probably swearing off sake until the next port." You glanced at Shanks again, who was now attempting to dance a jig with a rather bewildered Rockstar, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Someone's got to keep him from sailing us into a storm cloud, right?"

Benn took another slow drag of his cigarette, his eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, softening just a touch as he watched you. "It’s a tough job," he finally said, his voice a low rumble, "but someone’s gotta do it." He paused, a flicker of something akin to admiration in his gaze. "He’s lucky to have you, you know. Most people would have thrown him overboard by now, especially after a night like this." He chuckled, a dry, raspy sound. "He’d probably still be smiling, mind you, even as the sharks circled."

He extinguished his cigarette butt in a nearby ashtray, the faint hiss swallowed by the surrounding merriment. "It's more than just the hangovers, though, isn't it?" Benn mused, his gaze drifting towards Shanks, who was now attempting to lead a singalong, albeit off-key. "You keep him grounded. He flies so high, he needs someone to remind him where the deck is." He looked back at you, a knowing glint in his eye. "He trusts you. More than anyone else, I reckon."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a quiet acknowledgment of the unspoken bond you shared with the boisterous captain. It was true. You were his anchor, and he, in turn, was your unwavering compass. You wouldn't have it any other way. Even if it meant another morning spent coaxing him out of bed with strong coffee and a steady hand.

Both you and Benn watched Shanks for a few moments, a brief lull in your conversation as the captain continued his boisterous revelry. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Shanks suddenly stilled. The wide grin faltered, replaced by an ill, greenish tinge that spread across his face. His eyes widened slightly before he bolted, a desperate dash to the edge of the ship. He leaned over, a retching sound tearing from his throat as everything he'd consumed that day, and likely much of the day before, violently exited his stomach.

"Oh, for crying out loud, Shanks," you muttered, already moving. You were there in an instant, pulling his long, red hair back from his face with one hand while the other rubbed soothing circles on his shaking back. "Rough night, huh, Captain? Just get it all out." Your voice was soft, laced with a familiar blend of exasperation and concern. "You’re going to hate yourself in the morning, you know that?"

The crew, who moments before had been roaring with laughter and song, fell into an abrupt, almost comical silence. Lucky Roo paused mid-bite, his drumstick still in his mouth. Yasopp lowered his tankard slowly, his eyes wide. Even Rockstar, who had been tangled in Shanks’s ill-fated dance, seemed to freeze in place. They knew this routine. It was a common, albeit pungent, side effect of their captain's boundless enthusiasm for sake. A few of the more seasoned members merely sighed, shaking their heads in a mixture of pity and amusement. Others, younger and less accustomed to Shanks's dramatic exits, exchanged wide-eyed glances, trying to stifle their snickers. Benn Beckman simply watched, a faint smirk playing on his lips, as if to say, told you so.

Shanks heaved a few more times, his shoulders shaking with the effort. Finally, he straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A slow, almost triumphant smile spread across his face, completely oblivious to the green tinge that still lingered on his cheeks.

"Alright, that's enough of that!" he declared, his voice a little hoarse but already regaining its usual booming quality. He pushed off the railing, swaying slightly. "Now, where were we? The party's still going, isn't it?" He looked around at the still-stunned crew, who were slowly beginning to resume their previous activities, albeit with a new, cautious energy.

You let out a long, slow sigh, a mix of exasperation and profound affection. You were just about to scold him, perhaps suggest he consider a glass of water, when his eyes, still a little glazed from the alcohol and the recent exertion, met yours. A slow, impossibly cheeky grin stretched across his lips, the kind that always managed to disarm you, even when you were at your most annoyed. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Shanks's eyes, previously a swirling mess of drunken cheer, suddenly sharpened, focusing entirely on you. The cheeky grin softened into something profoundly tender, a look you knew intimately but one the rest of the crew rarely, if ever, witnessed. He took a wobbly step towards you, then another, until he was standing just inches away. His hand, warm and calloused, reached out, not to steady himself, but to gently cup your cheek. His thumb brushed softly over your skin, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

"There you are," he murmured, his voice surprisingly low and clear, completely devoid of the earlier slurring. "My anchor." His gaze held yours, deep and unwavering, filled with an affection so potent it felt like a physical presence. "Always there to pick up after my messes, aren't you?" He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. "What would I do without you, my love?" he whispered, a hint of genuine vulnerability in his tone that made your heart clench.

A hush fell over the ship, deeper than before. The last vestiges of drunken chatter died out. Every single member of the Red-Haired Pirates, from the usually oblivious Lucky Roo to the ever-stoic Benn Beckman, was frozen, eyes wide, staring at the intimate scene unfolding before them. This wasn't the subtle touch or the knowing glance they were used to. This was raw, open affection, a side of their captain they had never witnessed. Shanks, the boisterous, carefree emperor, was openly displaying a profound, loving devotion to you. It was a sight that would be etched into their memories, a testament to the quiet, powerful love that bloomed between their captain and the woman who was his world.

Shanks, still with that uncharacteristic tenderness in his eyes, didn't just lean away. Instead, he tightened his grip on your cheek, his thumb continuing its gentle caress. Then, in a move that startled even you, he pulled you closer, wrapping his other arm around your waist and effectively pinning you against his chest. His head dipped, resting on your shoulder, and you could feel the soft brush of his hair against your neck.

"Don't leave," he mumbled, his voice a low, rumbling vibration against your ear. It wasn't a demand, but a plea, thick with drunken sentimentality. He tightened his embrace, pressing his face into your hair, inhaling deeply. "You smell like… home."

He nuzzled closer, a happy, almost childlike sigh escaping his lips. His grip became even more possessive, as if he feared you might vanish if he loosened his hold even a fraction. He swayed slightly, and you had to brace yourself, hands coming up to his back to keep both of you steady.

The crew remained utterly silent, their gazes glued to the scene. This was beyond anything they had ever witnessed. Their fierce, independent captain, reduced to a clingy, affectionate mess in your arms, openly showing a vulnerability that was startling. Lucky Roo nearly dropped his drumstick, and Yasopp’s jaw hung slightly agape. Benn Beckman, for the first time in a long time, looked genuinely surprised, a flicker of bewildered amusement dancing in his usually unreadable eyes.

You were, for a few long seconds, utterly frozen. Not from discomfort, but from sheer surprise. This level of overt affection, especially in front of the entire crew, was unprecedented. Your mind raced, caught between the instinct to gently push him away and the overwhelming warmth that spread through you at his desperate clinginess.

Then, as his head settled more firmly on your shoulder and his mumbled words of "home" echoed in your ear, you relaxed. A soft sigh escaped your lips, and your hands, which had been hovering uncertainly, finally settled on his broad back. You began to rub gentle circles, a familiar, soothing gesture. He was heavy against you, his familiar scent of sea salt, sake, and something uniquely him filling your senses. You leaned into his embrace, letting yourself be enveloped by his unusual neediness.

"You're impossibly drunk, you know that?" you murmured, the words soft against his hair. A small, knowing smile played on your lips. It wasn't a question, more an observation laced with boundless affection. "Absolutely, hopelessly drunk, Captain."

Shanks mumbled a soft, "I know," his voice muffled against your shoulder. He pushed his face further into the crook of your neck, his lips pressing a series of warm, lingering kisses there. Each touch was soft, tender, and deeply affectionate, a stark contrast to his usual boisterous demeanor. You felt a shiver ripple through you, a pleasant warmth spreading from where his lips met your skin.

Then, he slowly lifted his head, his eyes, still a little unfocused but now with a sharp glint, sweeping over the astonished faces of his crew. His arms, which had been wrapped around your waist, tightened possessively, pulling you even closer until there was no space between you.

"What are you all looking at?" he demanded, his voice suddenly back to its familiar roar, though it held an edge of something new—a possessive challenge. A wide, almost feral grin spread across his face, daring anyone to comment. The crew, who had been gawking openly, flinched back, some quickly averting their gazes, others pretending to be deeply engrossed in their drinks. The silence that had fallen over the Red Force moments ago transformed into a palpable tension, thick with unspoken questions and newfound understanding.

You could feel the heat radiating from Shanks, both from his body pressed against yours and the sheer intensity of his gaze on the crew. It was a clear warning, a declaration of ownership that made your cheeks flush. Yet, despite the public display, you couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth. This drunken, clingy Shanks was surprisingly endearing.

"They're just surprised, Shanks," you murmured, patting his arm. His embrace, however, only tightened.

He grunted, still glaring at his stunned crew. "Well, they shouldn't be. You're mine," he declared, his voice booming across the ship, leaving no room for misinterpretation. He then buried his face in your hair again, letting out a contented sigh. "My lovely, beautiful Y/N."

The crew, having taken their cue, quickly scattered or found something intensely interesting to stare at in the opposite direction. The previous boisterous party atmosphere slowly began to filter back in, but now with an undercurrent of new understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the captain's unspoken, yet now very much spoken, relationship.

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. "Yes, yes, I'm yours. Now, how about we get you to bed before you decide to declare war on the moon?" You tried to gently extract yourself from his grasp, but he held firm, a stubborn weight against you.

"No, stay," he whined, sounding remarkably like a giant, affectionate child. He pulled back slightly, his eyes half-lidded, and leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. It was a slow, tender kiss, full of the kind of unspoken devotion that had always existed between you two, now laid bare for all to see.

When he finally pulled away, a triumphant, if still very drunk, smile played on his lips. "See? Much better than dancing with Rockstar."

You rolled your eyes, a smile of your own blooming across your face. "Come on, you big oaf," you said, finally managing to guide him away from the railing and towards the captain's quarters. "Let's get you cleaned up. And tomorrow, you're getting a very strong talking-to about your alcohol intake."

Shanks just chuckled, leaning heavily on you as you steered him through the lingering festivities. "Anything for you, my love," he slurred, before promptly tripping over his own feet, nearly taking you both down. You braced him, a familiar rhythm of support and unwavering affection that had always defined your life with the Red-Haired Pirates, and with him.

Navigating the bustling, still-celebrating deck with a half-conscious, overly affectionate Shanks was a familiar challenge. You chuckled softly as he mumbled about forgotten treasures and the bravery of seagulls, his weight a comfortable burden against your side. Finally, with a surprising amount of effort and a few gentle shoves, you managed to get him through the door of the captain's quarters.

The cabin was dimly lit, the only light filtering in from the single porthole, casting shifting shadows on the familiar maps and discarded coats. You maneuvered him towards the large, comfortable bed, his momentum almost toppling you both onto the soft mattress. He collapsed onto it with a contented groan, sprawling out like a starfish.

You sighed, but it was a soft, fond sound. You pulled off his boots, then his coat, tossing them onto a nearby chair. His movements were slow and sluggish now, the last vestiges of adrenaline giving way to the heavy pull of sleep. He shifted, reaching out a hand, blindly searching for you.

"Y/N?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"I'm here, Shanks," you replied, gently pushing his unruly red hair back from his forehead. You slipped off your own clothes, leaving them in a neat pile. The cabin air was cool, a welcome relief after the warmth of the crowded deck.

When you slid under the covers beside him, the mattress dipping with your weight, he immediately shifted, rolling onto his side to face you. His arm snaked out, pulling you close, tucking your head under his chin. His breath, smelling faintly of sake, ghosted over your hair. He pressed a soft, sleepy kiss to your temple.

"Stay," he whispered, his voice barely audible now. It was a primal request, born of deep comfort and a profound sense of belonging.

You nestled deeper into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your back. The rhythmic creak of the ship, the distant muffled sounds of the lingering party, all faded into a soothing background hum. You closed your eyes, a peaceful smile on your lips. Being here, with him, was exactly where you were meant to be. Drunk or sober, boisterous or tender, he was your home, and you were his. And as sleep claimed you both, you knew, with absolute certainty, that tomorrow, even with the inevitable hangover, would begin exactly where today left off: in the quiet, comforting embrace of your shared world.

The first rays of morning sunlight, usually a welcome sight, felt like daggers against your eyelids. You stirred, a familiar ache thrumming behind your eyes, a ghost of Shanks's impending hangover. He was still dead to the world, a heavy, warm weight beside you. His arm was still slung possessively around your waist, his head buried in your hair, his breathing deep and even. He looked utterly peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaotic, vibrant man he usually was, and certainly a marked difference from the drunken mess he'd been mere hours ago.

You carefully extracted yourself from his grip, a feat that usually required a surprising amount of stealth. He mumbled in his sleep, a soft, indistinct sound, but didn't wake. After slipping out of bed, you pulled a loose shirt on and padded quietly around the cabin, gathering the strewn clothes from the night before. His boots lay haphazardly by the door, his coat draped over a chair like a fallen hero. The faint scent of stale sake still clung to the air, a testament to the previous night's revelry.

You glanced back at him, a fond smile touching your lips. He was completely oblivious, sprawled across the bed, one leg dangling off the side. You knew what the morning would bring: the groans, the complaints about the light, the desperate pleas for water and strong coffee. But for now, in this quiet, peaceful morning, he was just Shanks, your captain, your lover, lost in a deep, well-deserved sleep.

You slipped out of the cabin, closing the door softly behind you. The deck was still mostly deserted, a few early risers already tending to their duties, their movements quiet and purposeful. The fresh morning air was a welcome contrast to the stale warmth of the cabin, and you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable chaos of a pirate ship waking up.

Your first stop was the galley. You pushed open the heavy wooden door, the familiar scent of simmering stew and fresh bread washing over you. Yasopp was already there, perched on a stool, nursing a steaming mug of coffee. He looked surprisingly spry for someone who'd been partying just hours ago. He glanced up as you entered, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Captain's personal nursemaid," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Rough night, huh? Sounded like our captain had a real good time." He leaned back, taking a sip of his coffee, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Though, I gotta say, never seen him quite so... open about his affections before. Quite the show for the crew."

You rolled your eyes, heading straight for the pantry to grab some crackers and then to the water barrel. "Oh, hush, Yasopp. He was drunk off his skull. You know how he gets." You filled a tankard with cool water and found a small pouch of painkillers in the medical kit usually kept in the galley.

"Drunk, maybe," Yasopp conceded, "but that didn't stop him from practically stapling himself to you, did it? And that little speech about you being 'his'..." He let out a low whistle. "Pretty sure the entire Grand Line heard that one." He leaned forward, his grin widening. "So, when's the wedding?"

You threw a cracker at him, which he expertly caught mid-air with a laugh. "You're lucky I'm too tired to chase you around the ship right now, Yasopp. Just get back to your duties before Benn finds you loafing around." You hoisted the tray with the water, crackers, and painkillers, ready to make your escape back to the cabin and your very hungover captain. "Some of us actually have a job to do."

Just as you were about to make your escape, the galley door swung open again, and in strode Benn Beckman, a fresh cigarette already lit and dangling from his lips. He took one look at Yasopp, then at you with the tray, and a faint smirk played on his usually stoic face.

"Morning, Y/N," he rumbled, his voice low and even, a sharp contrast to Yasopp's boisterous teasing. "Looks like you're already earning your keep this morning." He paused, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. "Captain giving you trouble?"

"Just the usual," you mumbled, a flush creeping up your neck. You knew there was no escaping the crew's observations.

Yasopp snickered. "She's just mad because I called her the Captain's nursemaid, Benn. And asked about the wedding."

Benn raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Wedding, huh? Well, after last night's performance, I'd say it's about time. He certainly made his intentions clear." He glanced at the crackers on your tray. "Crackers, though? For him?"

You sighed. "It's all I could grab quickly. He's still dead to the world, and I just want to get him something before he starts demanding it."

Benn shook his head slowly. "He'll want toast. Thick, buttery toast. Always does after a night like that." He gave you a look that said, you know this.

"Crap," you muttered under your breath, realizing he was absolutely right. Shanks loved toast. You knew this. You just hadn't thought of it in your sleepy rush. Turning on your heel, you marched back to the counter where the bread was kept, already pulling out slices. "Alright, fine, toast it is. Happy now?" you grumbled, half to yourself and half to the two grinning pirates behind you.

"Just make sure it's nice and toasted, Y/N," Yasopp called out, still chuckling. "He likes it practically burnt sometimes, remember?"

"Oh, I remember!" you shot back, already sliding the bread into the galley's well-used toaster. "I remember a lot of things about him that I'm sure he'll regret remembering himself later today." You grabbed a butter knife, intending to spread butter on the eventual toast.

"And make sure you slather that butter on," Benn added, a smirk playing on his lips. "He needs his sustenance after such a… vigorous night."

"You two are absolutely insufferable," you muttered, turning to face them, the butter knife pointed playfully in their direction. "One more word, and this butter knife is going to find a new home in your respective eyeballs."

Just as the words left your mouth, the galley door creaked open. In a flash, a pair of hands were around you, pulling you back against a familiar, warm chest. You tensed, ready to fight, but then a low groan rumbled against your ear, and the scent of stale sake and Shanks's unique musk filled your nostrils.

"My head," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and a burgeoning hangover. He buried his face in your hair. "And you shouldn't threaten the crew, Y/N. They're good lads." His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you closer still, his chin resting on your shoulder. The butter knife still clutched in your hand felt suddenly ridiculous.

Yasopp burst into outright laughter, quickly joined by Benn's deeper snicker. You felt a mortified flush creep up your neck, heat spreading to your ears. Shanks, oblivious in his hungover haze, simply tightened his grip, burrowing his face further into your neck.

The toaster dinged, signaling the readiness of the toast. You carefully twisted within Shanks's embrace, his grip surprisingly pliant when you moved with purpose. You managed to butter a thick slice, the rich aroma filling the galley. Turning back to him, you held the toast up to his face.

"Here," you said softly, pushing a piece into his mouth.

He grumbled around the mouthful, his eyes still closed. "Not hungry."

"I know, baby," you replied, your voice gentle but firm. "But you can't take painkillers on an empty stomach, or you'll feel even worse." You waited patiently as he slowly chewed, the motion of his jaw a silent testament to his reluctance.

Once he had swallowed, you handed him the tankard of water. He took a long, grateful gulp. Then, you offered him the painkillers. He swallowed them without complaint, still leaning heavily against you, his familiar weight a comforting presence despite the morning's chaos.

With the painkillers swallowed, Shanks finally let out a long, shuddering sigh, the worst of the immediate nausea seemingly abating. He sagged against you, a dead weight, but his grip remained stubbornly firm.

"Better?" you asked, gently rubbing his back.

He nodded, a barely perceptible movement against your hair. "Still feels like a sea king's trying to dance on my brain."

Yasopp and Benn, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange, exchanged a glance. Yasopp cleared his throat. "Alright, Captain, glad to see you're still in one piece. We'll, uh, leave you to it." He winked at you, a mischievous glint in his eye, before he and Benn discreetly exited the galley, leaving you and Shanks alone.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "They'll never let you live this down, you know."

Shanks just grumbled, burying his face deeper into your neck. "Worth it," he mumbled, his voice already drifting. He shifted, his body relaxing against yours as the painkillers began to take effect. You could feel him sinking back into a lighter sleep, the heavy weight of his hangover beginning to lift. You stood there for a few more moments, cradling him, the quiet hum of the ship your only company. It was a familiar comfort, this dance of chaos and calm, of boisterous adventures and tender mornings. With Shanks, it was always an unpredictable journey, but one you wouldn't trade for anything.

[madebycloud]

Our Little Secret

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: silco has a strict rule about his daughter, jinx - no dating until college. the problem? you've been secretly dating her for a while now. OR 5 times silco almost caught you together and 1 time he actually did. warnings/themes: fluff, 5 + 1 (kinda 4+1)…, secret relationship, silco is so gullible /j, pov switch, michael words: 9.6k

Silco has always had very strict standards.

He's strict about maintaining his power. He doesn't put up with nonsense. He isn't afraid to get his own hands dirty. And he's extremely protective of his daughter, Jinx.

And above all else? He has one very simple rule.

No dating until she's in college.

...unfortunately, your girlfriend has a habit of not really listening.

—

( 1 )

It's a weekend afternoon, you and Jinx are supposed to be studying together.

And you are studying... for approximately 5 minutes before Jinx starts peppering kisses along your cheek. That then devolves into her shifting to sit in your lap, straddling your hips, her arms wrapped around your neck.

“We shouldn't-” you protest, pushing her off your lap “-Jinx...we're supposed to be studying.”

Jinx trails her lips along the side of your face, pressing little kisses on your jawline. She makes one of her soft hums, and her mouth settles near your ear. “We can study later... can't we?”

If you could just study for 10 more minutes, maybe you can get an hour of actual studying done. “But we need to study. Your grade could depend on it.”

“Aww, are you worrying about my grades?”

“Of course I am. I know how hard it is for you to keep up in some classes.”

She pokes you in the ribs. “I thought you were my girlfriend? don't you want to be more romantic and less... responsible-y?”

You gently nudge her away and try to focus on the textbook in your hands. Unfortunately, Jinx is far too stubborn. She grabs the textbook and tosses it away, then she buries her face into your neck, giggling.

You sigh, defeated, settling your hands on her waist. “I swear, you're the most troublesome girlfriend imaginable.” 

“I just want you to pay attention to meeeeeeeeeee.” Jinx pouts and starts whining in that tone that she knows you can't resist. “I don't wanna study. I just want cuddles. You're comfier than this bed.”

“Is that why you're sitting here, distracting me? because you want more attention from me?”

“I'm always wanting your attention. It's my second favorite thing.”

“And what's your first favorite thing?”

“Can you guess which thing I like the most, love?”

You narrow your eyes. “Hmmm is it food?”

“Are you joking?”

“Why? you do eat a lot of it,” you tease, and before she can punch you, you grab her around the waist and roll over on the bed, pinning her down to the mattress.

Jinx gasps and then immediately starts laughing. Awwwwe, come on, you can hear her say, that's cheating!

You grin, leaning down to catch her lips in a quick kiss and she quickly tries to deepen it, but you pull away before she can do so.

“You're mean.” She tries to reach up and pull you closer. “Come back.”

“You're mean,” you argue. “Trying to distract me while-” 

There's a loud knock on the door, and then- “Jinx?” Silco's voice filters in from the other side of the door.

Jinx pulls away and goes completely rigid. “Uh- uhm-” She pushes you on your shoulders, causing you to hit the ground with a mphghfglgh sound, which Silco obviously did not hear.

“Jinx?” his voice comes through the door again. “Are you studying?”

Jinx rushes to sit on the bed, grabbing the first textbook that she can find, then pretends to read it. “Hi dad!” she calls out, opening her textbook to a random page. “I'm studying, I swear.”

“Can I come in?”

“No! I mean, yes. Yeah, sure, you, uh, go ahead.”

You quickly get up on your feet and sit on Jinx's desk chair, trying to look like you're studying. You smooth out your clothing and make your hair look less disheveled. Silco doesn't need to see you look like you were making out with his daughter 5 seconds ago.

You only have a few precious seconds to compose yourself before the door creaks open.

“Afternoon,” Silco greets and walks into the room. “Just wanted to check in on you, see how you were doing, how you're studying.”

“Yup. Studying, we're totally studying.” She lifts the textbook up, and there's a page about Newtonian physics that Jinx never had interest in until now. 

Silco looks between you and Jinx, and you see him narrow his eyebrow slightly, probably wondering why the room is so damn quiet. “...Uh huh.”

Jinx smiles with too much teeth. “Yup! just cramming in some last minute studying.”

He hums and turns his gaze to you. You try to pretend to be as interested in a book of...math equations. “What about you?” he asks, addressing you. “Not slacking off, I hope.”

You hastily set the math book down and turn to face Silco, giving a small smile. “No, sir, I'm not. Just doing some calculus and some physics.”

“Good,” he says with a single nod. “Anything either of you needed help in?”

You and Jinx say “no” at the same time, a little too loudly.

Silco doesn't seem to notice the hint of desperation. He just smiles. “Alright, I'll leave you to-” Silco pauses as he reaches the door and turns back around, looking at the two of you again.

Oh shit. Does he know?

“...I made food. I suppose the two of you could take a break? Maybe in...ten minutes or so?”

Relief hits you.

“Yeah, yeah, good idea. Absolutely, uh, I'm famished-” she sets the textbook down on her bed “-We'll definitely come down in ten.”

It took everything in you just not to collapse from sheer nervousness. “Yeah, ten minutes,” you echo. “Thank you, sir.”

He gives the both of you another smile and then finally leaves.

You both stay there in complete silence for a few seconds before looking at each other. Your eyes meet Jinx's.

“HOLY SHIT, that was way too close for comfort.” She sighs. “You okay? I didn't push you too hard, did I?”

“I'm fine.” You rub your back, where it's definitely going to be sore. “I'm still alive.” 

Jinx gets off the bed and walks over to you, standing between your legs. She then cups your cheek with both hands and tilts your head up. “Sorry...” 

You close your eyes, sighing as she rubs your cheek with her thumb. “Mhm, it's okay.” You rest your hands on her hips. “Now, we need to get downstairs in 10 minutes for that food Silco made... so that means we have 10 minutes to actually study.” 

“Nooooo, I don't wanna study.” She squeezes your cheeks enough to make your mouth pucker up. You groan, but it just makes her smile.

“Yes, we need to study.” You try to pry her hands off your cheeks, but she uses both of hers to keep them in place. “Okay, so what about this… If you get a perfect score on the quiz tomorrow, I'll give you a hundred kiss-”

“-DEAL!” 

Damn. 

You really must have tapped into a jackpot for her to respond like that.

—

( 2 )

You stand in the shadows at Jinx's back door, knocking softly. You even brought a bag of food just to make yourself seem less suspicious, hoping it would look like you're here to make a delivery instead of sneaking into the house for... 

...other reasons.

After a few moments, the door opens, and-

There Jinx is, standing with her hair damp. 

“Ugh what are you doing here?”

“Hey.” You lift up the bag of food in your hands. “I brought some food. Thought you'd be hungry.”

Jinx snorts, then slams the door shut right in your face.

...it's that time of the month.

Which explains... well, everything, really.

Her grumpy morning mood. Her constant irritability. Those mood swings that left you wondering what you did wrong. And of course, her reaction when you brought over the food.

You knock on the door again, patiently waiting to be let in. “Love?”

No response. You're very certain she's ignoring you on purpose.

You stand there awkwardly for a while, shifting the weight between your feet.

Maybe you could try again? maybe knock again? see if she changes her mind...but then again, maybe you'd be pushing your luck. It's probably better to give her some space.

Still, the thought of being ignored without knowing why is irritating.

You give it another minute, before trying to knock again. Then you wait for her to, hopefully, please open it again, and after a few moments, the doorknob finally turns.

Jinx slowly opens the door, just barely letting the door open halfway, just enough to show her face. “...what did you bring?”

“Your favorite,” you respond. “Jollibee?”

Her irritation visibly softens when she sees the logo on the paper bag. “Chicken joy with extra rice, yum burger, and coke float?”

You could always remember her favorite order. You've made it a point to remember since you first started dating. “Yep.”

She looks at the food in your hand, then she tries to grab the paper bag, but you pull it just out of her reach. 

“Kiss first.”

Jinx scoffs, but she relents, leaning forward to press a quick kiss on your lips. It lasts only a second before she breaks away, holding her hand out to take the bag of food.

“There, you got your stupid kiss,” she mutters, “now give me the food.”

You pull the bag away, grinning. “Nope. I have a question.”

“What now?”

“Are you mad at me?” you ask.

“A little...”

“Ohhh, sooo, is that why you slammed the door shut in my face?”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“Any reason you're mad at me?”

“I dunno, maybe ask the one friend?” She shrugs. “You know, that one with the glasses who always spends her time drooling over you.”

Huh?

Who the hell is she talking about?

You open your mouth to ask when-

Jinx's hand suddenly grabs the bag of food from your hand, and she heads inside the house without bothering to wait for you, leaving the door open behind her.

You rack your brain for any recent interactions she might have been referring to, but you don't remember anyone giving you that much attention. Did this person exist? she was just messing with you, wasn't she?

“Wait!” you call out, stepping inside and closing the door shut. “What do you mean, the one with the glasses?”

Jinx ignores you and sits down at the table. She starts grabbing food from the paper bag and setting stuff down in front of herself, making a point of not looking at you.

Ugh. How could she just ignore you like this?

“Jinx.” You approach and sit down next to her. “Can we at least talk about it?”

She glances up to look at you, then she proceeds to shove an entire fried chicken drumstick in her mouth (just to spite you... probably).

And it goes like that for the next few minutes.

She chews her food and drinks her coke float, and every time you're about to open your mouth to say something, she makes another obnoxiously loud noise.

You really hate it when she gives you the silent treatment. Though you know better than to push it, since pushing her when she's in a mood like this doesn't usually go well.

“You know what I hate the most?” 

You lean back, sighing. “What?”

“I hate it when you let that friend of yours hang around you like a puppy. I hate the way she looks at you. All those little smiles and flirty glances-” She stops to take a bite. “-Whenever you're in the same room, her eyes are always glued to you. Like- like she's not even subtle about it!”

“And how would you know that?”

“I notice.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Jinx turns to glare at you and kicks your shin. “You don't even notice when she looks at you.”

“Why would I? I'm focused on you.”

Jinx looks away, her cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, you better be focused on me...” Her expression quickly hardens again. “But that's beside the point! I swear, she's so - UGH - fucking annoying!”

You smirk at the words that came out of her mouth, and you brush some stray hair out of her face, hoping to grab her attention, but she just looks away. “Are you... jealous?”

She smacks your hand away. “Shut up. I'm mad at you, remember?” She stabs at a piece of her chicken. “I'm not jealous. I mean, why would I be jealous of her?”

You try to keep a straight face. “I don't know. You tell me.”

“I'm not jealous!” 

You pause just for a moment to admire her face, the way her eyebrows scrunch up, the redness of her cheeks, her little pouty lips...

God, she's so pretty, cute, adorable, and... and... 

Jinx scoffs, noticing that stupid look on your face. “Oh, you think this is funny, huh???” She pokes your side. “Am I amusing?”

“No, no, no, I'm sorry boss.”

Jinx rolls her eyes at the name. She eats the rest of her fried chicken and sets the empty carton aside. She opens the wrapper of the burger, smells it, then lifts it up to her mouth. “Want one?” 

“No, I ate before I came over.”

She lowers the burger, only to lift it back up and- “Open.”

“Seriously?”

“Pfft, don't get used to it...just consider yourself lucky that I'm in a generous mood.”

You open your mouth and then-

She shoves the burger in, forcing you to take a bite. 

The burger is certainly messier than it should be, with cheese and sauce spreading over your lips, dripping down to your chin. You swallow the hamburger, then let out a small burp. “...could have been a little gentler on the first bite, you know.”

Jinx grabs a napkin from the table and wipes the sauce off your lips. “You should be grateful that I fed you. It's more than what you deserve, considering you have another girl hanging around you all the time.”

“You keep saying that, but you still can't tell me how I'm supposed to know if she's staring at me-”

With no warning and no time to react, Jinx's hand grabs you by the jaw, and suddenly your vision flashes pink as her lips crash into yours.

Her kiss is rough, aggressive, hungry, forceful, demanding; taking your bottom lip between her teeth, fingers digging into the side of your jawline.

It's not like you mind. You're quick to match her energy. Your hands reach for her waist as you lean forward to try and deepen the kiss.

But then, just as quickly, Jinx pulls away, her breathing heavy and fast. “That-” your girlfriend licks her lower lip, “-that's what I think about every time I see that other girl looking at you.”

...

That kiss definitely shut you up.

The words that were on your tongue suddenly vanished, replaced with a single brain cell bouncing around in your head doing absolutely nothing. 

“Uhhhhh...”

She pats you on the cheek before continuing to eat her burger as if nothing happened. “You were being annoying. Had to shut you up somehow.”

You blink and rub your face, clearing the fog that set in after the kiss. “Well- Ahem - that was... that was certainly one way to do it.”

Jinx shrugs and grabs the coke float, sipping on it. “So-” she sets the coke float down, “-now that I've given you something to shut up, I expect you not to bother me for the rest of the day.”

“Wait-”

“-Nope. I'm still irritated right now. My cramps are acting up. I'm not in the mood for you to annoy me and be all, y'know, sweet and lovey-dovey.”

“Oh come on-”

“-UGH look, I'm mad, I'm cranky, and I'm in pain. I just want to eat my food and sleep for the rest of the day,” she mutters. “Now go home.”

You frown. “Why can't I just stay here and wait with you-”

“-Because I prefer being in peace and quiet for now.”

“I can be quiet.”

Jinx huffs through her nose. “When I'm not irritated, we can talk, alright?”

“Fine,” you concede, standing up from the chair. “Will I see you tomorrow, then?”

Jinx nods and trails after you towards the backdoor. “Yes. Maybe. Don't come over before 9 PM, though. Dad is going to be here.”

“Will do.”

You start to step outside, and then she calls out.

“Hey.”

“Hm?” You turn back around.

“Before you go…” Jinx then walks closer and grabs a fistful of your shirt before leaning in and kissing your cheek. “I'm still mad at you, but-” she pauses, letting go of your shirt “...I love you.”

With that, she pushes you out the back door and closes it in your face.

And she left you on your own, you're stuck standing there wondering what exactly just happened. 

She was mad at you, then she kissed you, then she was mad again, and then she was kind of sort of but not really mad, and then she just up and ended the whole thing by saying that she loved you. 

What the hell is with her today?

“Jinx! I'm home.”

“Shiiiiit.” She hurriedly unlocks and pushes open the front door. “Heeeey, Dad.”

“Who was the person just now? the one who jumped over our fence?” Silco asks, walking past her and setting his suitcase down on the coffee table.

“Uhhh…” Jinx closes the door and then turns around to face her dad, laughing nervously. “Nobody. Maybe.”

“Doesn't seem like nobody,” he says. “I could have sworn I caught a glimpse of someone leaving when I was pulling up.”

“Oh, that…” She looks at the back door. “Maybe you're just tired, yeah?”

“...right.” Silco walks into the kitchen and stares at the empty containers still on the table. “You got food from Jollibee?”

Jinx sighs in relief as Silco focuses on the food instead. “Yeah, I just kind of had a sudden craving. Thought about ordering some delivery.”

“Hmmm I can't blame you. These do taste pretty good.”

She nods and starts to head up the stairs. “I'm gonna go lie down...gonna take a nap.”

She can hear her dad's response from the kitchen. “Alright, have a good rest.”

Jinx dashes up the stairs, trying not to make it obvious how panicked she is. The less he knew about you being here earlier, the better.

She heads towards her room and shuts her door.

She kinda maybe-sorta regrets sending you away... but a part of her is still slightly mad at you.

Just slightly.

Jinx grabs a large, oversized monkey plushie from the corner of her room, then falls back onto her bed. She presses her face into the soft fur of the toy, scrunching her nose up.

As much as she loves her stuffies, it can't quite fill that gap of not having you around. You know, you're a lot warmer than this stupid monkey, and she'd much rather have you around than this dumb toy.

—

( 3 )

You tiptoe across the yard towards the house, trying to avoid any broken twigs or leaves and making sure your footsteps are as soft and light as a mouse.

You slowly look around, just to make sure that all the lights are absolutely turned off in the house.

The coast is clear? Check.

You then grab a smooth pebble, testing the shape and weight in the palm of your hand.

This should do the trick.

You aim carefully, with a certain amount of precision and a touch of confidence. You toss the pebble at the window, hoping with all your might that the thud of the rock will reach her ears—and it does.

Immediately, you hear rustling in the room on the upstairs floor. Bingo, you got her attention.

There's a series of footsteps, and then the window opens, revealing the face of a very annoyed but also pretty, gorgeous, beautiful girl.

Jinx whispers down at you from the window. “What are you doing-”

You quickly gesture for her to shut up and keep her voice down.

“What?”

You shush her again and motion for her to come outside. Jinx's eyes narrow, but she seems to get the message, because after a few more moments of awkward staring at each other, her expression relaxes and your girlfriend disappears from the window.

Not too long after, the back door opens, then Jinx carefully slips out. She's dressed in a tank top and shorts with her hair messily brushed. She closes the door behind her as quietly as possible.

“You're lucky I actually have the decency to stay awake most nights.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “If it were my usual time, I would have been absolutely dead to the world.”

You snicker at her comment and raise a finger to your lips. “Keep it down. You're gonna wake up your old man.”

Jinx scoffs. “Thanks to you, I'll be up till the morning.”

“Come on... I'll make it up to you, okay?” You then wrap your fingers around hers.

She huffs, but she does allow you to take her hand. “You better.” Her expression then softens a bit when she sees you smile. “Seriously, what in the hell made this SO important that you had to come over at... 2 a.m.?”

“Couldn't sleep.”

“Couldn't sleep or didn't want to sleep?”

You shrug. Either answer wouldn't be a lie. “Does it matter?”

“...and you just so happen to need me as a source of entertainment?”

You shrug again, and you tug on her hand, lightly pulling her closer. “More like... I just missed you.”

Jinx snorts, but you can tell the words are starting to get to her. You let go of her hand before wrapping your arms around her waist. 

“Who's the clingy one now, hm?” she asks, then brings her arms around your neck.

“Still you, but I guess I can't complain.”

Jinx wrinkles her nose. “Very funny.”

“It is funny.” You press a kiss to her cheek, her temple, her forehead, just to hear her scoff. “Love you.”

“Sap.” Jinx nuzzles her face into your chest, hiding her smile from you. “...I love you too.”

It's always so damn satisfying whenever you get her to surrender.

“Do you want to come in? it's cold out here..”

You shake your head. “I'm fine, just here to see you anyway.”

You stay wrapped up in each other for what feels like hours, not moving, not saying anything, and not even caring that the night is probably the coldest it's been in months.

It's only when Jinx shivers that you finally remember where you are.

“You should probably go.” 

You know you're on borrowed time. Any minute now, you're risking Silco catching you both.

So you reluctantly let go of her, and she backs away. 

“Go on,” you urge, “Go back before you get sick.”

Jinx rolls her eyes. “I won't get sick. I'm tougher than that.”

“I'm sure you are, but it's still cold out, so-”

“-I'll live.”

“Just please go back inside.”

Jinx rubs her arms to try to get warm. “Alright, just... be careful walking back, okay?”

You reach out to try to fix her hair, but stop yourself when her eyes narrow. “I'll be fine. Don't worry about me.”

She bites her lip. “I'll try not to.”

You both just stare at each other for a few more moments, the cold night air surrounding you and making you shiver a bit.

“This is hard to do without being able to kiss you.”

“I know.” You lean closer, pressing a kiss on her cheek. “See you at school?”

Jinx returns the gesture, giving you a kiss on the cheek as well. You find yourself wanting to melt on the spot. “I guess... yeah.”

“Good night.”

“Mhmm, nighty.”

She finally turns around and disappears back into the house.

With one last glance at the house, you turn and creep back to your own, a smile on your face.

“You're still awake? Isn't it past 2 in the morning?”

Jinx nearly had a heart attack when she hears a familiar voice. She whirls around to see... Silco, standing at the top of the stairs, staring at her with a frown.

“Uhm-” she tries to come up with something that sounds believable “...just need to pee...”

“Go back to sleep then. You have school in the morning, remember?”

“Yes, Dad.” 

She quickly pads up the steps and past him, feeling her father's stare burning against her back. She doesn't stop until she's inside her room, door closed.

Jinx was lucky Silco didn't hear the creak of the back door or hear the footsteps outside. If he had known about your relationship...

She approaches the window, and then peeks through the curtains. She spots you sneaking back through the darkness, and she smiles to herself.

She's safe. You're safe. Everything worked out... for now anyway.

—

( 4 )

You drive into the city, parking by the sidewalk a block away from her home. “Guess I'll see you tomorrow?” 

You're a little exhausted from your “school project” (which is honestly just a date to the movie theater). You've both grown pretty good at using the excuse of a “group project” and “research” to spend time together.

Jinx turns to you and pouts. “Where's my goodbye kiss?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, come here, you big baby.”

Jinx leans over the center console, cupping your chin with one hand. “Thank youuu~” she coos, before planting a soft kiss on your lips.

“There, satisfied?” you say as she leans back away. You try not to let your expression show just how much you're going to miss that feeling already. 

“That should hold me for the night.”

“Okay, now get out of the car so I can go home.”

She snorts and opens the door. “Dick.” She steps out, closes the door, then stands on the sidewalk with one hand on her hip. 

You roll your window partially down, glancing over at her. “I love you.”

“Mhm, don't forget to text me when you get home.”

“I'll remember, don't worry.”

“You better. I don't wanna think you're dead in a ditch somewhere-”

“-Yes, yes, boss. I'll be fine, I promise.”

Jinx huffs and shakes her head. “Bye, dumbass.” She blows you a cheeky kiss and turns around to run down the block towards her house.

Jinx enters her house and sees Silco sitting on the armchair in the living room. She realizes that he was probably waiting for her to come back.

“Ah, you're home,” he says, “how was your project?”

Jinx sighs, playing it off casually. “Um, it was fine,” she mutters, and she tries to walk past Silco and make a beeline for her room.

“Is that a new necklace?”

…shit.

She glances over her shoulder, one hand reaching up to touch the new necklace that you had just bought for her today. She quickly lowers it and tucks it further under her shirt.

“Oh, it's not new…” She looks rather guilty as she lies. “I'm just...not wearing it every day.”

“Really? That's odd. I don't seem to recall seeing you wear it before.”

“Yeah, I just decided to... start wearing it more lately.”

“Well, either way... looks expensive. Where'd you get it?”

Jinx winces at the question but tries to hide it. “Some thrift store,” she lies once more. “Anyway, I have homework to do. Bye, Dad.”

Silco arches an eyebrow. “Alright, but don't forget to eat dinner.”

“Right, okay, yeah, Bye!” Jinx quickly heads upstairs to her room and quickly closes the door to her bedroom.

Now safe and alone in her room, she slides down the door, sighing. She takes the necklace again, rubbing it between her fingers.

“Love you too, doofus,” she whispers to herself, thinking about you.

—

( 5 )

It was kind of a rule in your neighborhood that everyone had to complete a certain amount of volunteer hours. You weren't entirely happy about that, but you didn't really hate the idea of helping your community.

Since you and your girlfriend often had trouble arranging time to see each other, the city's weekly volunteer cleanups became a pretty standard thing for the both of you.

There's a… small problem, though. Jinx wasn't the only one who had this little schedule.

Her dad also had to do the cleanups.

It had been a fairly simple plan at first. You've been planning to meet up with Jinx in secret for a few hours between volunteering sessions. You'd be able to spend some time together, talk without getting interrupted, maybe… make out a little bit.

But now? now that plan was fucking thrown to hell, seeing as how her father was there as well, picking up trash along with the two of you.

You pick up an entire plastic bag filled with trash and start to lug it to one of the bigger garbage bins on the sidewalk. Your back feels like it's about to break.

You turn around and spot Jinx a few feet away. She has a bag overflowing with junk in her hands, and she's also using a stick to prod a piece of trash that's stuck on the curb.

She looks at you and smiles. “Hey.”

You try to smile back, but you know your back is about to burst. “Need some help with that?”

Jinx shakes her head, then uses her stick to whack the piece of trash off the sidewalk. “Nah, I got it.”

You manage to toss the garbage bag into the nearest bin, panting a bit afterwards. Geez, were these bags always this heavy?

You look around and see that most of the street has been cleaned. Jinx's dad is also nearby, picking up a few more pieces of junk on the sidewalk.

Silco picks up another plastic bottle with a pair of rubber gloves, placing it in the bag by his feet. He glances up and spots you two nearby. “Oh, are you two finished?”

You smile at him, then nod. Seems like your little street is mostly free of trash.

Silco's gaze flits over to his daughter. “How about you, Jinx?”

Jinx gives the stick one more whack on the sidewalk, making the last piece of trash fall into the bag. She then stands up, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “There!”

Just then, an old lady (the head of this neighborhood's community service group) approaches the three of you.

She smiles and looks at all of the full garbage bags nearby. “I see you three have been hard at work. We've prepared some food for the volunteers over at my home around the corner. Why don't you come join us?”

You're about to say, “Hell yes, I deserve food for this kind of work-”

But before you can get to say anything, Silco turns to the old lady and raises his hand politely, “Thank you, but you don't need to-”

“Nonsense,” the old lady interrupts, “You three have been working so hard, and it's already lunchtime! The least we can do is offer you some food, right?” She smiles at Silco, then she also turns her attention to you and Jinx. “Besides, these young people definitely deserve a rest. They look exhausted. I'm sure a little food wouldn't hurt.”

Silco sighs. “Very well, then.” He looks at you and Jinx before gesturing forward. “Let's go.”

The old lady smiles and starts to hobble towards her home. The three of you follow.

After a couple-minute walk, the old lady's house is only a few doors down the street. There are already around 10 other people or so inside her house, eating and talking amongst each other. They probably all wanted a nice meal after doing a lot of work.

You greet them with a few waves, a few smiles, a few introductions. You then help yourself to some fried fish and steamed vegetables, and manage to find a small spot on the floor to sit. Jinx is sitting next to you, while Silco takes a spot on a nearby armchair.

You eat silently, listening to the other conversations around you. People are talking about mundane things, what they did this morning, a movie they saw, the current news, the weather, et cetera.

Some of them ask you, Jinx, and Silco a few questions, wanting to know you each a little better.

Silco seems to be politely responding to whatever questions are being asked of him. Jinx, on the other hand, just stays quiet and keeps eating her food.

However, there is one that you and Jinx really aren't a fan of being asked.

“Oh, my dear child, you are so beautiful,” the woman on the opposite side of the room is talking to Jinx. “Are you dating anyone?”

Jinx's spine straightens a bit, and glances at you for a split second. You can practically see the panicked look in her eyes, as if trying not to spill the secret to her father. “Um, no haha…” She laughs awkwardly. “I'm... not seeing anyone right now.”

Then it starts.

The woman turns to the side and calls out. “Michael, sweetie, come here! There's someone I want you to meet!”

Michael, an 18-year-old guy who's standing there awkwardly, still chewing on a piece of bread. He swallows his food and then walks over.

“Yeah, mom... what did you want me for-”

The lady turns to Jinx and presents her son. “My dear, this is my son, Michael. He's 18, and graduating this year. Isn't my baby so handsome?”

You can feel an overwhelming urge to resist rolling your eyes, resisting the urge to say “Oh for fuck's sake”, and resisting the urge to just straight up punch this guy directly in his little Michael face.

Michael mutters something to himself before turning towards Jinx. “Hi. I'm, uh…” He looks at Jinx, and then he stutters again, his face turning bright red. “You're- you're pretty.”

Oh, he's totally a goner. You can watch his soul slowly leave his body as he stares at Jinx.

“Yeah, I'm in high school right now. I graduate this year. I study business and stuff…”

“Uh, I play football... but I don't want to play sports professionally or anything. Not really what I want to do…”

“I'm getting into MIT in the fall, so that's…”

You try to keep your attention on your food. You try to focus on eating the rather amazing, yummy, delicious food that was prepared. 

But seriously?

Seriously?

You look closely at them. Is he swooning over her? Is he checking her out? Did she just smile back at him? Why is she being so nice to him?

...

It's NOT like you're jealous. 

... 

Okay, so... maybe you are a LITTLE bit jealous. 

But you shouldn't be worried. She is your girlfriend. You don't have anything to worry about... right?

“You wouldn't mind if my son were to court your daughter, would you, Sil?”

You whip your head up so fast that you almost gave yourself whiplash.

What. The. Fuck.

“Court?” Silco repeats. He glances over at Jinx and then back at Michael's mother.

“Yes, I was thinking my son could start to court your daughter... see where that takes them? I think they'd make a fine couple.”

You expect Silco to be just like “Oh hell no. I'd never allow some punk to date my daughter, go suck a dick.” But instead...

Silco just nods and says, “I see. No, I wouldn't mind. I think they could be a... good match. Your son seems to be a hardworking person.”

...did he-

Did he...?

Did he just-

I wouldn't mind.

I wouldn't mind.

I wouldn't mind.

You're pretty certain you're suffering from heart palpitation. That, or you're having a literal, actual, real-life heart attack.

He actually AGREED? He's totally fine with that little Michael douche canoe to court Jinx?

WHY?

You thought he'd hate anyone dating his daughter. You thought he'd hate the idea of anyone getting with her. You thought he'd hate anyone trying to date her. That he'd hate the idea of anyone trying to court her.

But he gave Michael's mom's son a verbal blessing.

A blessing.

This is worse than a nightmare. This is literal hell. This is absolute bullshit.

You can't eat anymore. You've lost all appetite, to be honest. Everything seemed to go wrong today.

A hand touches your arm, and you turn to look to see Jinx trying to get your attention. “You alright...?”

NO.

Because why would you be alright?

You've just spent the last thirty minutes sitting through a conversation with an awkward teenager who can't even talk to women without stuttering, you've got a little punk-ass brat that's probably going to court your girlfriend, and now her dad just gave her the green light to do it.

This SUCKS.

“Yeah, of course.” You shrug. “I'm just... not that hungry anymore. Maybe I ate too much, I guess?”

Jinx looks at you for a few seconds before nodding. She must realize there IS something wrong, but she is smart enough not to point it out, especially in front of Silco. “Uh huh. Maybe you did. I guess I'm pretty full myself. So... there's that.”

Yeah. You're pretty full. Full of stress and rage and pure, absolute jealousy.

“Maybe we just need to walk it off?”

“Mhmm, that sounds like a good idea. We could walk off some more of the streets, see if there's anything we missed.” Jinx stands up, grabbing your plates, and then sets them on the counter.

You stand up as well, but you turn to Silco first, figuring you should at least tell him first. “Sir,” you greet. “Jinx and I are going to go walk around, take a walk. See if we missed anything around the town. Is that fine?”

Silco nods, glancing at Jinx. “As long as you're back in a bit. Don't want you two getting into any trouble.”

You force a smile on your face, and nod back. “Yes, sir. We'll be back in a bit.”

The smile drops as soon as you and Jinx step out of the house. The two of you walk silently down the same street you had cleaned earlier.

It's very awkward and very quiet. Normally, you'd be the one to break the silence first (you're not good with awkward tension), but this time... this time you're too mentally exhausted.

Jinx doesn't say anything either, just walking alongside you. Both of you pass the place where you first met the old lady earlier and continue walking down the sidewalk a few blocks farther.

It takes at least five more minutes before Jinx speaks. “Are you going to keep ignoring me?”

You feel a flash of guilt. That is not the vibe you wanted to give off. “No... I'm not ignoring you.” You then look down at the path in front of you. “I'm just... tired. Really, really tired.”

Her hand finds its way to your arm, fingers wrapping around it loosely. Jinx looks at you, and you notice some concern in her eyes. “Did I do something to upset you at all?”

Her words just make you feel even worse. “What? No... baby, I'm not mad. I swear.” 

“Then what is it? ...if it's not me, then what's bothering you?”

“I swear it's nothing. I'm just not in the mood, y'know?”

It must be pretty obvious that you're bullshitting, because she gives you a flat look. “You're acting weird.” She tugs your arm gently, wanting you to look at her. “You aren't yourself at all. Tell me, what's wrong?”

You stop walking. You turn your body to face her, sighing as you look into her eyes. “It's embarrassing.”

It sounds so stupid though, to say you're jealous of that Michael douche canoe? It seems so stupid, so petty, so childish. Even more childish of you to act so moody and upset over something so... simple.

It would be absolutely pathetic of you to say, “I don't like that guy, and I don't like the fact that your dad gave him the all clear to court you.” What kind of girlfriend would you sound like? jealousy is never an attractive look. 

“Are you jealous?”

“What?” You scoff. “As if.” She doesn't need to know you're completely envious of that douchebag. You turn your head and fold your arms, avoiding looking her in the eyes. 

“I knew it. You're jealous.”

You don't say anything, and she steps forward. She starts to unfold your arms that you have firmly crossed over your chest, gripping your hands in hers instead, her fingers lacing between yours.

“Babe?” 

It feels really shitty not being able to look her in the eyes. “Hm?”

“I love you.”

It's those three words that make whatever anger that you had just... disappear all at once.

Jinx lifts your intertwined hands to her face and she presses her lips against the backs of your knuckles. “I love you soooo soooo much. I only want you. Only you. You've got nothing to worry about, 'kay?”

How is it that easy for her to just instantly win you over? all she has to do is press her lips against your knuckles, say those words, and then suddenly the fire that was burning in your chest is totally doused.

Your shoulders slump, and you feel absolutely fucking whipped. “...okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Love you too.”

Jinx smirks, then releases your hands, only to snake her arms around your waist. “Y'know, you don't have to be jealous.”

You grumble at that, but you place your arms around her as well, pulling her a bit closer to you.

She rests her chin on your shoulder, and then hums into your ear. “Michael? Michael doesn't stand a chance. You have NOTHING to worry about.”

You look off to the side as she leans against you, your annoyance still slightly present. “He's probably trying to impress you. He's trying to be all smooth and-”

She laughs softly and interrupts your sentence. “You're worried about that?” She pokes your cheek. “I'm still yours even if you don't do anything.”

Even if you're still slightly annoyed, the corners of your lips lift a little. “Yeah, well-”

“-I don't care about him. I don't care about anyone. All I care about is you. Just you, and only you.”

Hearing her say that and knowing that she means it? It shoots right into your veins and makes you weak in the knees.

Jinx pulls away from you, grabbing your hand in hers before gently tugging you off down the sidewalk. “Come on, now. We told Silco we'd be back in a bit. Don't want to piss him off, now do we?”

You let her pull you along, fingers intertwined. 

Though your mood has improved, there's still a... little lingering part of you that wants to stay a bit sulky. Just so you can see her coax you out of your mood, coddle you a little, have her sweetly bring the smile back to your face.

You love being spoiled just a little bit (just a teensy tiny itsy bit).

—

( + 1 )

The streets are quiet and nearly empty at this time of night. You could have danced all night in the middle of the street or sung the most obnoxious pop tunes in existence, but it didn’t matter.

No one would see you. No one would hear you. Not a single soul to witness that moment, except for her.

Just you two, walking through the empty streets in a world that's all yours without a single soul to pay attention.

Jinx tugs on your arm. “I don't wanna go home, yet.”

“But we have school tomorrow,” you remind.

“Don't you wanna stay out here for longer?”

It's risky, but- “I do.”

She stops walking, tugging on your arm again. “Can we sit down for a bit?” she asks, eyeing the empty playground.

The nearby playground is empty too. No soccer mom with a baby strapped to her body. No teenagers trying to smoke cigarettes on the swingset. No children clamoring over the climbing equipment.

“Sure.”

She grins, then you both head towards one of the swingsets. Jinx releases your arm and sits down on one of the swings, her feet brushing the ground. You sit down on the swing next to hers, and start to swing softly. 

Jinx is strangely silent, quietly pensive.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Jinx hesitates, teeth digging into her bottom lip. “I kinda wanna ask you something.”

“Kinda?" you repeat. “So you kinda want to, or you wanna?”

Jinx narrows her eyes at you, then sticks her tongue out before sighing. “Okay...I want to ask you something.”

“Alright then, what is it?” You rest your feet on the ground to stop swinging and look at her. 

Jinx just stares down at her sneakers, kicking the dirt beneath her feet. “Is it...unfair, to you, I mean?”

Huh? “What do you mean?”

“This-” she gestures between the two of you “-the whole secret thing? Isn't it unfair to you?”

“Is this why you asked me to come over? to talk about this?”

She doesn't respond and just gives a frustrated shrug of her shoulders.

Her words then echo in your head. “Isn't it unfair to you?” Being forced to keep it a secret? To hide every touch, every word, every hint behind closed doors?

You pause to consider then take one more glance at her. 

She has this look of guilt, a look of shame.

No.

This isn't unfair.

You chose to date her, knowing all the risks. You knew the consequences of breaking the rules. You knew the risk of starting this thing with her.

And yet, you did it anyway. You kissed her, you touched her, you held her, you still love her, despite all of that.

You push yourself off the swing and move to stand between her legs, feeling her hands hold onto your waist. Jinx sighs, pressing her face into your stomach.

“No...I don't think it's unfair.”

Jinx finally looks up, meeting your gaze. The moonlight reflects off her eyes.

“Really. I don't.” You cradle her face with your hands. “It doesn't matter to me, whether we have to hide it or do this in secret or not. I'd still choose you. No matter the risk.”

She leans her cheek against your palm. “I just...i think-” she bites her lip again. “-I just don't want you to regret it. I don't want you to regret me-”

“I don't...I'd never regret you.” You run your thumb against her jaw, shaking your head. “I'm not going to regret you. I'm not going to regret us.”

Jinx's eyes soften. “Swear?”

“I swear on my life,” you promise, without hesitation.

“You really are something.” She grins and your grin matches hers. 

“It's getting late,” you say, letting go of her face. “Should probably go home.”

“Yeah, probably.” You step back and Jinx stands up from the swing. She takes hold of your hand again and swings your arms. “Walk me home?”

“I'd love to.”

Both of you walk out of the empty playground, heading back towards the sidewalk.

Jinx's hand feels so perfectly familiar. Every digit, every curve of your hand fits in place. You've held her hand a thousand times before, and you're going to do it a million times after this one.

You reach the front of her place, and she stops walking. Jinx furrows her brow, confused. Her father is supposed to be out of town, yet the lights are on at her house.

“You said your dad was out tonight.”

“He was... he's not supposed to be here until 11-”

That's when you hear the voice that you know all too well. “-Well, it appears I've come home a little bit early.” You both turn and see Silco standing behind you, hands behind his back. “I was looking for you.”

Silco walks a few steps closer to the both of you. He notices your joined hands followed by the fact that you are standing close together. “How long, exactly, has this been going on?”

Jinx fidgets, and she looks at the ground, her bangs hiding her face. You can tell that she's not going to answer, so you decide to answer for her.

“Since-”

But he speaks over you. “I'm asking her, not you.”

You shut your mouth immediately, gulping at the harsh tone.

Jinx swallows, fingers tightening around yours. “8 months.”

“And you never thought to tell me? After 8 months?”

“I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't think you'd approve-”

Silco sighs and glances at the ground before looking up again. “-I'm not angry, I'm...just disappointed. I just wish you could have told me. I would have understood.”

Jinx looks back at you, then back at him. “You would?”

“I have my own preferences for you... but at the very least, yes, I'd understand.”

She looks away. “Sorry.”

The wind picks up, and Silco eyes the darkening sky. “It's a bit cold out,” he says. “Go on, get inside.”

Jinx nods, letting go of your hand and you watch her walk into the house. She looks back over her shoulder and then mouths “I'm sorry” before she opens the door, entering inside.

The door clicks shut behind her, and...you're left alone with her father.

“Come on.” Silco turns around, motioning for you to go with him.

You don't really have a choice here (to be honest).

So you hesitantly follow him, silently walking next to him while he stares forward. Silco then leads you to a bench on the side of the house.

“Sit.”

You do as you're told, sitting down on the bench. Silco sits down next to you. You stare straight ahead, afraid to look at him.

“Jinx is… a lot of things. Smart, stubborn, clever, creative, and difficult. But even when she's hard to handle, I...” He trails off, sighing. “I still love her. I'll admit, I've spoiled her. I just want her to be safe. And in her own twisted logic, she thinks you're a threat to her safety.”

“Why would I be a threat, sir?”

Silco leans forward, setting his elbows on on his knees. “Because you're an unknown variable. A wildcard to me. She cares about you, more than she should. Anything that can cloud Jinx's rationality is a threat. If someone is a threat to her safety, they are a threat to me. So, if you're planning on ruining her life-” He turns to look at you. “I'll destroy you.”

“I would never,” you immediately say.

Silco hums at that, eyeing you up and down. He grabs a cigarette from his pockets and lights it with a lighter.“You care about my daughter, do you?” 

You nod, steeling your nerves.

“I see... If I asked you to leave her alone, to forget everything between you and her, to break it off and forget about her... what would you say?”

You square your shoulders and sit up straight. “I'm sorry, sir... but I won't. I won't leave her. I love your daughter, sir. I love Jinx. She means the world to me.”

Silco exhales a cloud of smoke, watching it float up into the air. “Why is that, hm? why do you deserve my blessing to be with my daughter?

You don't know what to say at first, yet words come out anyway. “Uh, I don't know if I could ever deserve your approval...If you don't think that I'm worthy or that I'm good enough, I don't think I'll be able to change your mind.But I'm serious about your daughter, sir. I'm not toying around or dating her as some kind of joke. I've been with Jinx for the past 8 months, and…I have no plans on stopping. I love your daughter, sir.”

There was no answer to your words, just silence. Then, you see a smile creeping to his lips. He clears his throat and says, “You should go home, kid. It's late now.”

You sit there, trying to figure out whatever the hell that smile means. “Sir, is...is Jinx in trouble-”

“-She's not in trouble. I just have a few things to talk about with her.”

It's clear that he's not going to budge, so you nod. “Good night, sir.”

Silco nods his head and stands up before walking towards the front door.

In a daze, you walk back to your own place.

What was the smile for? what is he going to say? is Jinx in trouble? is he going to forbid you both from dating? will Jinx have to cut you off?

But none of those questions will make a difference. Despite everything, you will never give up on her.

—

( bonus )

“I expect to see her home at a reasonable hour.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And I mean at eleven at the latest.”

“Eleven. Yes, sir.”

Jinx makes a face, rolling her eyes behind her father's back. “Ugh, Dad. It's prom. My friends aren't gonna go home that early.”

“Eleven, missy. I don't want you out too late.”

It's been a month since that night, and thankfully, things have been slowly getting better.Silco hasn't completely come to terms with you being with his daughter (yet), but at least he hasn't outright forbidden you from dating Jinx.

“I expect my rules to be followed, and if she's late, then you can't take her out anymore. Is that clear?”

You nod your head, a little too enthusiastically maybe. “Sir, I understand.”

“If anything happens-”

“-Nothing's going to happen, Dad!” Jinx steps in, looping her arm around yours. “I'll be fine.”

Silcho's eyes narrow. “...you better be.”

Jinx huffs. “Dad, I swear, we'll be fine.” She tugs on your arm. “Come on.” 

She starts to pull you away from the house, but Silco's voice stops you in your tracks.

“Stop a moment.”

Jinx groans but stops and turns towards her father. “What?” she asks, annoyed.

Silco turns to you. “Take care of my daughter.”

“I will, sir.”

Silco gives you a look and you straighten your back. “Alright then. Enjoy prom.” He pats Jinx on the head before walking back into his house.

Jinx waits until the door shuts behind her father and then she huffs. “I love him, but GOD he's so overprotective.”

You roll your shoulders and smile at her. “He just cares about you.”

“Yeah...but sometimes it's a little much. Like, I'm not a little kid anymore. I'm 18!”

“Ehh, he just wants you to be safe.”

“I get it, okay? but it's just...sometimes it's hard, y'know?”

“I know but...” You grab her hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. “...at least he hasn't stopped us from seeing each other.”

“Rigghhtt, he's been a little bit more lax. Well, that and you're sucking up to him.”

“Hey!”

“What?” She giggles when you elbow her on the side. “WHHAAT? It's true! You're all like, 'Yes sir! of course sir! yes sir!'” She mimic-yells in a deep voice. “Like you're a soldier who's being given orders!”

“I am not a- I'm being polite and respectful!”

“Suuuuuure you are.” She bumps her shoulder into yours.

“I am!”

“Uh huh. That's why you say yes to everything he asks.”

“Because I respect him. It's called being a good influence on you.”

“Ohhhhh, you're trying to be a good influence on me.” Jinx grins. “Pfft! as if you can get me to behave myself.”

You shrug, smirking. “I dunno. I think I have a pretty good track record.” 

You both share a laugh before walking towards the sidewalk.

“I promise, I'll have you home by eleven.”

“But eleven is so earlyyy.”

“Rules are rules.”

“Ohhh, so now you're siding with my dad?”

“Er, I did promise him.”

“...And here I thought you were supposed to be on MY side.” Jinx pouts. “What happened to all your love and loyalty to me? where did that go? hmmmm?”

“I still love you just as much as I did yesterday, you know that, but-” you say “-I'm just keeping my promise.”

She chuckles. “I think you just don't want to get in trouble with him.”

“That too.”

She shoves you with her shoulder, and you shove back. “Watch the dress, jackass!” She shoves your shoulder in return, giggling, when suddenly, a car horn interrupts the two of you. 

It's parked at the curb of the sidewalk, honking at the two of you. “Heeeey, love birds! Stop flirting like dorks, and get in!” You recognize the voice as belonging to Ezreal, a friend of Jinx's.

Ezreal is leaning out of the window with a cocky smile slapped on his face. Two other people are also inside the car. It's Lux in the backseat and her brother Garen driving the car.

“We weren't! we were-” you protest, but Jinx is already bounding towards the car.

“We're coming, idiot!” Jinx laughs as she tugs you along.

Prom night was always meant to be enjoyable and stress-free... even if there was an overprotective dad involved.

You stumble after her as she basically yanks your arm in her haste to get to the car. She swings the door open and motions for you to sit down, forcing you to squeeze into the middle, between her and Lux.

The car then pulls away from Jinx's house, with her friends shouting and laughing out the window. 

Jinx lifts your hand up to her lips and gives it a quick peck, not letting you go for the rest of the night.

[sereia4skz]

I love the way you write for the boys.

Could you possibly write for maybe Han (or whoever you think fits this better) where the reader overhead him talking to another member about paying up for a bet involving her and she gets upset and they argue. But happy ending because the bet actually giving han a timeline to ask the reader out because he was too nervous and if he did it in the time limit the other member would pay for the first date.

If you don't want to write for this that's fine just ignore it lol -Nova 🩷

oneshot | bad bets? good intentions

pairing: han x reader

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: bets, chan pushing han to be brave, reader seems lowkey into han groveling

word count: 914

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

You weren’t supposed to hear. You were just packing up your things from Jeongin’s room. He’d passed out mid-movie, and you figured you’d grab your overnight bag and let yourself out quietly. The dorm was quiet, Chan and Jeongin’s shared place always got like this past midnight. You thought Chan was at the studio, but then you heard your name.

"Alright, I’ll pay up," came Chan's voice, half-laughing through the barely cracked door to the kitchen.

You breathed quietly, not to eavesdrop, just not wanting to bother the two.

"You asked her out, didn’t you?"

Silence. Then Jisung's voice, sheepish and soft, "Yeah, barely. You gave me a week, and I did it with like… what? Three hours left?"

Chan laughed, easy, pleased, "Barely counts. She said yes though, right?"

"Of course she did. I’ve been working up to this for months."

You blinked, your fingers froze on the zipper of your bag.

The ringing in your ears was overwhelming, blood pulsed hard against your temples.

Pay up? Week? A deadline?

You backed up before you could hear more. The apartment door was closer than the voices. You slipped your shoes on quietly and left without a sound.

Jisung didn’t hear from you for two days. Not after the goodnight texts. Not after the check-ins or the memes. Not even when he sent a voice note singing your favorite song in a dumb voice to make you laugh.

And the silence was driving him insane.

On the third night, he stood outside your apartment for a full five minutes before working up the nerve to knock. You opened the door halfway, eyes tired, expression unreadable.

His hoodie was rumpled, hair a mess from anxious tossing, and his phone was already in his hand, just in case he needed to show you something to prove he hadn’t completely screwed everything up.

“Hey,” he said, voice small. “Can you… can we talk? Please?”

You didn’t speak, but after a moment, you stepped aside. He exhaled as he stepped in, taking in the warm clutter of your apartment. It looked the same as always. His heart stuttered, noticing his absence had seemingly no impact on your routine. You stayed near the kitchen, arms folded tightly.

“I heard you,” you said. “At the dorm. You and Chan.”

His face went pale. “That’s… not what it sounded like.”

You cocked a brow. “It sounded like I was a deadline? A bet. A joke between you and your hyung.”

Jisung groaned, running his hands down his face. He sat down on your couch like the weight of it knocked the air from his lungs. “Please, let me explain.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have to. The silence stretched long enough that he took it as permission.

“I’ve liked you for so long. Like… since Jeongin first introduced us. And every time I tried to tell you, I choked. I’d plan what to say, but the second I saw you smile or say my name, my brain just evaporated.”

He laughed, bitter and breathless. “Chan got tired of watching me suffer, said it was pathetic that for all my lyrics I couldn't muster to ask you out. So he made a bet. He said I had one week to ask you out, and if I did, he’d pay for our first date. If I didn’t, I had to wear a dress and heels and do Britney Spears karaoke.”

Your mouth twitched. You didn’t want it to, but it did.

Jisung caught it, a flicker of hope lit behind his eyes. “It wasn’t about winning anything. It was about giving me a push. He knew I wouldn’t do it otherwise. And I didn’t want to waste more time pretending I wasn’t completely gone for you.”

He stood slowly, moving closer, voice softening. “It was real. Asking you out. Everything we’ve done since? before? It’s the most real thing I’ve ever had. I just… I didn’t think you’d say yes if I told you how scared I was.”

“You should’ve told me,” you said quietly.

“I know. I’m sorry. If I could go back, I’d do it differently. I’d say all the things I wanted to say from the start.” He stopped in front of you, hands twitching like he wanted to reach for you, but didn’t dare.

“But if this is where it ends… I’ll understand. I’ll hate it, but I’ll get it.”

You stared up at him. At the soft curve of his mouth, the nervous flick of his fingers, the ache written across his whole body.

“Do you still want that date?” you asked finally.

He blinked, nodded rapidly. “More than anything.”

“Good. Because if Chan’s paying, I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”

Jisung’s mouth fell open. “Wait! Does that mean?”

“I’m still mad,” you said, stepping into his space. “But I never said no.”

He breathed out a relieved laugh. “Fair. Yell at me all you want. Just… let me take you out."

You nodded, your expression finally softening. “One condition.”

“Name it.”

“No more dumb secrets.”

He raised his hand like a scout. “Swear. You can even make me wear the heels if I mess it up again.”

“Tempting,” you muttered.

Then, finally, finally, you let him hug you. 

Jisung buried his face in your shoulder and whispered, "I missed you like hell."

You rolled your eyes, but your hand slid into his hoodie pocket all the same.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.”

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss

[4milly]

johnson family bbq. | jey. u

gif from @punksrhea ! <3

parings : jey uso x black! oc (serena)

warnings: smut (it’s who i am), oral receiving (fem receiving), cursing, bathroom sex, ex boyfriend trope, annoying family members,

🖊️: everyone thinks serena’s ex is the one that got away. she deals with hearing it once everyday. wait until, her brother brings him to the family barbecue.

word count: 9.2k

“if it ain’t my beautiful granddaughter, where jey at?”

serena sighed yet again. she was tired of the shits. every time her family had one of these bbq’s, someone couldn’t hold back on bringing up her ex. maybe it’s that old folks thing about the new young people—they never really break up, honestly.

but that wasn’t the case. when she told jey, she was done with his bullshit last year, she meant it. she blocked him on everything, even xbox live, and changed her number. he wanted to run the streets across the earth slanging dick to any nxt newbie who smiled his way, go ahead. she wouldn’t dare be apart of it.

but, hold on.

serena and jey, were never ‘official’ official. but was…official. y’know?

they both posted each other, were always boo’d up at the club, slept over at each others places, he even flew her to his matches or wherever he was in the world…he’ll, they even met each others families.

which is proving to have done more harm than good.

“granny, y’know me and jey aren’t together no more.” serena sighed before kissing her granny on the cheek

“yea yea, but you kids always breakup, than makeup, breakup, than makeup again. next thing, ya pregnant—“

serena’s mother let out a gasp, “alright mama, serena ain’t pregnant…right?”

“ma!”

“i’m just askin, girl damn. she ain’t lyin’ at least. but mama, serena and jey aren’t together. let’s let her be today, alright mama?"

granny frowned, waving her hand dismissively. "nah, i ain't buyin' it. that boy looked at you like you hung the damn moon, serena. i've been around long enough to know when somethin's real."

serena shifted uncomfortably on the plastic lawn chair, ice cubes clinking in her empty cup.

"i remember when he first came 'round here," granny continued, her eyes going distant with memory. "so respectful. callin' me 'ma'am' and bringin' those fancy chocolates i like. not like them other boys you used to drag through here."

"granny, please—"

"listen to me, child. when yo granddaddy first caught my eye, it was the same way. that fire. that boy jey was your one. i felt it in these old bones. the way he'd look for you first thing when he walked in a room."

serena stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the concrete patio. "i need another drink."

she stalked toward the back house, ignoring the concerned looks from her cousins. the quiet of the kitchen was a relief after the noise of the backyard. she yanked open the refrigerator, grabbing a high noon and cracking it open with more force than necessary.

the door creaked open behind her. her mother's perfume—always the same since serena was a child—filled the small space.

"you okay?" her mother's voice came from behind her.

serena turned, leaning against the counter. "i'm fine. just tired of everyone bringing up ancient history."

her mother crossed her arms. "a year ain't ancient, baby girl."

"feels like it." serena took a long sip, the cold bubbles burning her throat.

"you know granny means well. she just thought—"

"ma, seriously?" serena finally turned, eyes flashing. "you too now?"

her mother raised her hands defensively. "i'm not saying get back with him. i'm just askin if you heard from him. he called the house last week."

the can froze halfway to serena's lips. "he what?"

"listen. for someone who claims to have not been official, you were real hurt, serena. i could barely get you out your house inna mornin' to meet me for breakfast."

"ma, why did he call here? why are you ignoring my question?"

"baby, i saw how much you loved that boy," her mother said softly, coming closer. "the way your whole face lit up when he'd call. how you'd be runnin' around gettin' all dolled up when he was comin' to town."

serena rolled her eyes, but her mother pressed on.

"you've always been like this, since you was little. reactive. feelin' everything so big. when you hurt, you hurt deep. and that's okay, but—"

serena palmed her face, "ma, you still ain't answered my question about why he called here."

her mother sighed, leaning against the counter. "i understand y'all weren't official or whatever, but was that ever really discussed between y'all? 'cause from where everybody else was standin', it sure looked official."

"that's not—"

"i'm not takin' his side, serena. i promise you that. i'm on your side. always have been. that's why seein' you so torn up over him had me worried. you was cryin' for weeks, wouldn't eat right, wouldn't go out."

serena looked down at her can, picking at the label with her thumbnail. the truth stung more than she wanted to admit.

"all i'm sayin' is—"

"ma, please just tell me why he called the house." serena's voice cracked slightly.

her mother busied herself straightening the napkins on the counter before letting out a sigh.

before serena's mom could open her mouth, a familiar voice boomed from the front of the house.

"aye wassup uce!"

serena's heart dropped to her stomach. she knew that voice. her body tensed up as her eyes shot to her mother's face, which had guilt written all over it.

"ma?" serena whispered, her voice barely audible.

the sound of footsteps and male laughter grew louder. serena's mom suddenly became very interested in rearranging the potato salad on the counter.

"i was gonna tell you, but—"

serena's older brother drew's voice carried down the hallway. "yeah man, everybody's out back. ma and granny been cookin' all day."

serena gripped the counter, her knuckles turning white. "you didn't."

her mother finally looked up, her expression apologetic but firm. "drew called yesterday sayin' he was bringin' a friend. i didn't know it was jey until this mornin', and by then—"

"by then what?" serena hissed, panic rising in her chest. "you couldn't pick up a phone? send a text? 'hey baby girl, by the way, your ex that broke your heart is comin' to the family barbecue'?"

serena felt like she'd been slapped. before she could respond, drew appeared in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space. and right behind him, looking exactly the same as he had a year ago, was jey.

"look who i found wanderin' around downtown," drew announced, oblivious to the tension in the room. "said he was in town for a show tomorrow."

jey stood there in his fitted black tee and jeans, tattoos peeking from his sleeves, that same half-smile on his face that used to make serena's knees weak. his eyes found hers immediately, just like granny said they always did.

"hey," he said softly, only to her.

serena's throat closed up. she gripped her drink tighter, searching desperately for words, any words.

drew looked between them, finally sensing something was off. "uh, y'all good?"

"drew, come help me with somethin' outside," their mother said quickly, grabbing drew's arm and practically dragging him toward the back door.

"but i just got—"

"now, boy."

the back door slammed shut, leaving serena alone with jey in the suddenly too-small kitchen. the silence stretched between them like a rubber band about to snap.

the ticking of the old kitchen clock filled the silence. serena felt like she was underwater, everything moving in slow motion. jey took a step toward her, that familiar look in his eyes—the one that used to make her forgive him anything.

"rena, i—"

the nickname hit her like a physical blow. she felt the aluminum can give way beneath her fingers, crumpling with a satisfying crunch. without a word, she pitched it into the trash can beside the fridge, the metallic clang punctuating her silence.

jey reached out as she moved toward the door. "can we just talk for a—"

she didn't slow down, just raised her palm to his face as she brushed past him, close enough to catch that same cologne he always wore. his words died in his throat. the heat of his body nearly made her falter, but she kept moving, pushing through the screen door and back into the noise and sunshine of the backyard.

serena scanned the crowd, ignoring the curious glances from relatives who'd clearly seen jey arrive. she spotted sierra by the grill, laughing with their cousin marcus. sierra, who'd held her while she cried over jey more times than she could count.

"hey cuz," sierra said as serena approached, her smile fading when she caught sight of serena's face. "what's wrong with—oh shit." her eyes widened, looking past serena toward the house. "is that who i think it is?"

"sierra, i swear to god i'm about to lose my fuckin' mind," serena whispered, grabbing her cousin's arm. "did you know he was coming?"

sierra shook her head vigorously. "hell no! i would've warned you."

marcus raised an eyebrow. "who we talkin' about?"

"nobody," serena snapped, then sighed. "sorry, marcus. just… can you give us a minute?"

he nodded, backing away with his plate of food. "y'all women and your drama. i'll be by the speakers if anybody needs me."

as soon as he was out of earshot, sierra grabbed serena's shoulders. "what happened? what did he say to you?"

"nothin' yet. i didn't give him the chance." serena's hands were shaking. "sierra, i can't do this. not today. not here with everybody watchin'."

sierra glanced toward the house where jey had emerged onto the back porch engaging in a conversation with her brother and few of her cousins, "you want me to create a diversion so you can escape? i could fake an asthma attack."

despite everything, serena let out a small laugh. "you don't have fuckin' asthma. i do."

"details, details." sierra waved dismissively. "seriously though, you want me to take you home?"

serena sighed, glancing around at her aunties and uncles who were already watching her with curious eyes, "nah, i can't just bounce. you know how they get. by tomorrow mornin' the whole family group chat would be blowin' up about how i ran off 'cause jey showed up."

sierra raised an eyebrow. "so what? let 'em talk."

"easy for you to say. you ain't the one they be analyzin' like a damn science experiment." serena rolled her shoulders back, straightening her spine. "i gotta just deal with this shit. act like it don't bother me."

"you sure? 'cause your face tellin' a different story right now."

serena took a deep breath, smoothing her expression into something she hoped looked like indifference. "i'm good. i'm grown. it's been a year."

a deep, familiar laugh cut through the backyard chatter, making serena's stomach flip despite herself. she turned to see jey standing with her granny, who was patting his cheek like he was still her favorite. she was smiling up at him, nodding along to whatever he was saying, completely captivated.

"unbelievable," serena muttered. "look at granny actin' like he's the second coming."

sierra snorted. "you know how she is about him. always thought he hung the moon."

serena watched as jey leaned down to listen to something her grandmother whispered. whatever it was made him look up, his eyes scanning the yard until they locked with serena's. his smile shifted, something softer and more private passing over his face.

without thinking, serena raised her hand, middle finger extended high and proud in his direction.

"childish ass bitch," sierra muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched up. "real mature, 'rena."

"what? he deserved it." serena dropped her hand, heat rising to her cheeks as she realized several relatives had witnessed her little display.

sierra shook her head. "you really tryna convince everybody you over him with that move? 'cause all i'm seein' is a girl who still got feelings strong enough to be mad."

"shut up," serena grumbled, grabbing a fresh drink from the cooler. "i ain't got no feelings except annoyance."

"mhmm. that's why you flippin' him off in front of granny and the whole family." sierra's eyes tracked something over serena's shoulder. "heads up, he's coming this way."

serena's spine stiffened. "he better not."

"too late." sierra stepped back slightly. "i'ma give y'all some space—"

"don't you dare leave me," serena hissed, grabbing her cousin's wrist.

"fine, but i ain't being your buffer all day." sierra crossed her arms as jey approached, his steps slow and deliberate, like he was approaching a spooked animal.

"hey, sierra," jey said, his voice gentle as he came to stand before them.

sierra gave him a once-over, her lips pressed into a thin line. she didn't respond, just took a long, pointed sip of her drink while staring straight through him like he was made of glass.

the silence hung heavy between them until serena couldn't take it anymore. "why the hell are you here? one of those nxt bitches didn't let you fuck or something?" the words came out sharper than she intended, dripping with venom.

jey's expression fell, a flash of hurt crossing his features before he schooled them back into neutrality. "it ain't like that, rena."

"don't call me that," serena snapped. "and you didn't answer my question."

he shifted his weight, glancing around at the relatives who were pretending not to eavesdrop. "can we talk somewhere private?"

"hell no," serena laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. "anything you gotta say, you can say right here."

sierra's eyes bounced between them like she was watching a tennis match. "i'ma go check on granny," she muttered, finally extracting herself despite serena's death glare.

jey waited until sierra was out of earshot before speaking again. "i'm in town for a show tomorrow night at the arena. drew hit me up when he heard i was comin'."

"and you just thought you'd crash my family bbq? for what?" serena crossed her arms tight over her chest, creating a barrier between them.

"i didn't know you'd be here," he said, then winced at her incredulous expression. "alright, that's a lie. i knew. i wanted to see you."

"well, now you've seen me. mission accomplished." serena moved to step around him, but he shifted slightly, not quite blocking her path but making it clear he wasn't done.

"rena—serena," he corrected himself when her eyes flashed. "i just… can we just talk? five minutes."

serena felt eyes on her from all directions—her nosy-ass cousins, her aunties, her grandmother who was watching with naked hope on her face. she couldn't make a scene, not here.

"no," she said through gritted teeth. "you saw me. you ruined my fuckin day. get out. now."

jey ran his hand over his face, exhaling deeply. "look ian mean to ambush you. drew invited me, and i didnt have a choice. i thought maybe—"

"stop talking to me," serena hissed, cutting him off. "just stop."

she turned away from him, her eyes landing on the back porch where her mother stood, watching the whole scene unfold. her mama's expression was a mixture of guilt and concern, her hands nervously twisting the dish towel she held.

without another word to jey, serena stormed past her relatives, ignoring their whispers and stares. she pushed through the screen door, brushing past her mother without acknowledging her.

"baby girl—" her mother started.

serena kept walking, taking the familiar path through the house to the stairs. each step creaked under her weight as she climbed, muscle memory guiding her to her childhood bedroom. she slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing through the old house.

her room was exactly as she'd left it years ago when she moved out. trophies from high school track meets lined the dresser. polaroids and concert tickets were still stuck in the frame of her mirror. the faded pink comforter on her bed was pulled tight—her mother must have made it up, knowing she might need a retreat.

serena sank onto the edge of the bed, dropping her head into her hands. the nerve of him. the absolute audacity to show up here, in her safe space, with that puppy dog look in his eyes like he hadn't been the one to—

a soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

"go away," she called, not bothering to lift her head.

the door creaked open anyway. "it's just me," sierra's voice came soft from the doorway. "brought you a drink. figured you might need somethin' stronger than that high noon."

serena looked up to see her cousin holding two red cups. "is that uncle roy's special punch?"

sierra grinned, closing the door behind her. "you know it. man pours half a bottle of hennessy in there and calls it 'just a splash.'"

serena accepted the cup, taking a long sip and wincing at the burn. "thanks."

sierra settled beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping under their combined weight. "so… that was intense."

serena snorted. "that's one word for it."

"everybody downstairs actin' like they ain't just witnessed a whole telenovela episode." sierra nudged her shoulder. "auntie mabel already on the phone with her prayer circle."

despite everything, serena felt a laugh bubble up. "lord, they gonna be burnin' sage and prayin' over my love life by sundown."

they sat in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping their drinks. the muffled sounds of the party continued below—music, laughter, the occasional shout.

"he looks good," sierra said after a while, her voice careful. "got his hair all different."

serena sighed, staring into her cup. "i noticed. that mullet always made me wanna just sit on his stupid face."

"you know what i think?"

"i know you gonna tell me regardless."

sierra took another sip, studying serena's profile. "i think you still care about him."

"course i care," serena mumbled, the alcohol loosening her tongue. "don't mean i want him back."

sierra twirled the ice in her cup. "so… you gonna avoid him all day?"

serena leaned back against the bed, her eyes fixed on the glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck to her ceiling from when she was fourteen. "that was the plan."

"you know he ain't leavin' without talkin' to you. stubborn ass."

serena closed her eyes, feeling the alcohol warm her chest. "i hate that he still looks so damn good," she admitted quietly. "like, why couldn't he have gotten fat or lost all his hair or something?"

sierra laughed. "girl, i know. it's been what, nearly a year? and he still walkin' around looking like that. it's disrespectful."

they fell silent again, the bass from the music downstairs vibrating through the floorboards. serena traced the rim of her cup with her finger, the words she'd been holding back for so long suddenly pressing against her throat.

"sometimes i miss him," she whispered, so softly sierra had to lean in to hear. "like, stupid things. the way he'd call me pretty or call to stay on facetime. how he'd send me flowers wherever he was across the world, or pulling me to sit in his lap if it was hella chairs near us."

sierra nodded, not interrupting.

"i was in love with him, si. like, really in love." serena's voice cracked slightly. "even though we both kept sayin' we didn't want commitment, that we were just havin' fun… we belonged to each other. y'know?"

"i know, girl," sierra said gently. "everybody knew. that's why the family still asks about him."

serena wiped at a tear that had escaped. "it's so stupid. he fucked up, not me. i shouldn't be the one sittin' here cryin'."

"love ain't about who's right and who's wrong," sierra said, putting an arm around her cousin. "it's messy. and yeah, he fucked up. but that don't mean you can't still hurt."

serena took another long sip of her drink. "the worst part is, even after everything, there's still this part of me that wants to hear what he has to say."

"so maybe you should."

"and then what?" serena asked, throwing her hands up. "forgive him? go back to whatever the hell we were doing before? he cheated on me, si."

sierra raised an eyebrow. "did he though? y'all wasn't official, right? that's what you kept tellin' everybody."

"we weren't, but…" serena trailed off, frustration evident in her voice. "we were something. and he knew it. he knew what we had."

"so what are you really mad about? that he slept with someone else, or that y'all never put a real label on what you had?"

serena opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. she couldn’t think straight. hell, she was mad about something.

someone else had her man...in ways she was promised only she’d see.

serena swirled the drink in her cup, watching the ice cubes clink against the plastic. maybe sierra was right. maybe she wasn't even sure what she was mad about anymore. the hurt had calcified into something hard and protective around her heart, and she'd been carrying it for so long she wasn't sure how to put it down.

"i don't know, si," she finally said, her voice small. "i thought i was over it. over him. and then he walks in looking like… that, and my stomach does that stupid flippy thing and i'm right back where i started."

sierra squeezed her shoulder. "listen, rena. i ain't sayin' forgive him or take him back or nothin' like that. i'm just sayin' hear the man out. closure, y'know?"

serena thought about it for a moment, her mind racing through all the possibilities. what if he just wanted to apologize? what if he wanted her back? what if he was just being polite because drew invited him?

sierra leaned in closer, her voice low and serious. "any nigga worth showing up to a family barbecue is worth hearing out. especially one who's still got you this twisted after all this time."

serena snorted, rolling her eyes. "oh please. they all love his 'main event' ass. they wouldn't let his ass get a paper cut." she gestured vaguely toward the window where the sounds of the party continued. "granny's probably down there feedin' him her special sweet potato pie right now. the one she only makes at thanksgiving."

"so what?" sierra challenged. "you gonna hide up here all day? let everybody think he sent you runnin'?"

serena's jaw tightened. "i ain't runnin'."

"sure looks like it from where i'm sittin'."

serena knocked back the rest of her drink, the alcohol burning a path down her throat. "fine. i'll talk to him. five minutes, that's it. but not here, not with everybody and their mama watchin' and listenin'."

sierra grinned, looking far too pleased with herself. "that's my girl."

"don't look so smug," serena warned, standing up and smoothing her dress. "i'm just tired of hidin' out in my childhood bedroom like i'm sixteen again."

she caught her reflection in the mirror, noting the slight flush in her cheeks from the alcohol. her hair was still perfect, thank god, and her makeup had held up despite the heat. at least she looked good while her life was falling apart. again.

sierra hopped up from the bed, adjusting her dress. "well, if you gonna face him, might as well do it with a full stomach. i think i smell granny's mac and cheese from here."

serena took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "alright. let's do this."

as if on cue, her mother's voice carried up the stairs. "serena! sierra! y'all come on down, food's ready!"

sierra raised an eyebrow. "saved by the bell."

they made their way downstairs, serena's heart hammering against her ribs with each step. as they reached the bottom, a small group of serena's uncles and their friends were pushing through the front door, laughing loudly.

"y'all got any more of that hennessy punch?" uncle roy called out, leading the pack toward the kitchen. "we drank the cooler dry!"

serena's mother appeared from the dining room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. her eyes immediately found serena's, relief washing over her face.

"there you are, baby girl," she said softly.

before serena could remember she was supposed to be mad, she found herself crossing the room and wrapping her arms around her mother. the familiar scent of cocoa butter and the same perfume her mother had worn since serena was little enveloped her.

her mother hugged her tight, one hand coming up to stroke her hair like she used to do when serena was small. "i love you always," she whispered into serena's ear. "you're the prize, remember that. don't you ever forget it."

serena squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden burn of tears. "i know, ma," she murmured.

when they pulled apart, her mother cupped her face. "you good?"

serena nodded, managing a small smile. "i'm good."

"alright then," her mother said, patting her cheek. "everybody's waitin' on us. your daddy's been eyein' that brisket for an hour."

they made their way through the house and out to the backyard where tables had been set up and loaded with food. the smell of barbecue and her granny's famous sides filled the air. serena kept her eyes carefully trained on the spread, avoiding scanning the crowd for jey.

she grabbed a plate and got in line behind sierra, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on her. she could hear jey's distinctive laugh somewhere to her left, mingling with her brother's and cousins'.

"serena, baby," her granny called from her seat of honor at the head of the longest table.

serena sighed, already knowing what was coming "yes, granny?"

"make jey's plate," her grandmother said, not even trying to be subtle. "that boy's been workin' hard, travelin' all over. probably ain't had a home cooked meal in a minute."

"his hands ain't broke, granny," serena said, her voice coming out sharper than she intended.

granny's eyes widened, her expression hardening. "serena marie! where are your manners, girl? that boy is a guest in this house."

"it's fine, ms. elaine," jey said, suddenly appearing beside serena in the food line. he smiled down at granny with that charming grin that used to make serena weak. "i got it. actually, let me make your plate too, rena."

he reached for serena's empty plate, his fingers brushing against hers. the brief contact sent an unwelcome jolt through her body.

"it's serena and i don't need you to make my plate," serena said, trying to pull it back. "i can do it myself."

but jey had already taken both plates, stepping ahead of her in line. "i know whatchu like. still no baked beans, extra mac and cheese, right?"

serena stood there fuming as jey moved down the line, carefully filling both plates. the audacity of this man. she caught sierra's eye across the yard, her cousin giving her a what-the-hell-just-happened look.

jey was piling her plate with all her favorites—her daddy's smoked brisket, granny's mac and cheese, potato salad with extra paprika the way she liked it. he even remembered to keep the greens separate so it wouldn't touch the other food.

"here you go," he said, turning back to hand her the loaded plate. their fingers brushed again as she took it, and she hated how her body betrayed her with a shiver.

"thanks," she muttered, not meeting his eyes.

jey nodded toward an empty spot at one of the tables. "mind if i sit witchu?"

before serena could respond with the firm "get the fuck out my face," that was on the tip of her tongue, granny called out from her table.

"jey, baby, come sit by me! i wanna hear all about your travelin'."

serena had never been so grateful for her grandmother's interference. jey hesitated, looking between serena and granny.

"raincheck?" he laughed softly.

serena just shrugged, already turning away. "whatever."

she watched as jey made his way to granny's table, settling in beside the older woman who immediately began fussing over him like he was still family. the betrayal stung, even if it was expected.

sierra slid onto the bench beside serena at the far table she'd chosen. "so that happened."

"don't start," serena warned, stabbing at her mac and cheese.

"i'm just sayin', he remembered exactly how you like your food."

"so what? i ain't forget how he likes his food either. don't mean nothin'." serena shoved a forkful of brisket into her mouth, chewing aggressively.

sierra raised an eyebrow. "alright, what's his favorite then?"

serena paused mid-chew, her fork hovering over her plate. she glanced over at jey's table where he was laughing at something granny said, that same easy smile lighting up his face. "ribs. extra sauce. potato salad but not with eggs. corn bread, mash potatoes on the side with extra gravy and sweet tea so sweet it could put you in a diabetic coma."

"damn, girl. you really just proved my point."

"shut up and eat your food."

serena tried to focus on her plate, but her eyes kept drifting to jey's table. he was being his usual charming self, listening intently to granny's stories and asking all the right questions. her younger cousin jasmine had somehow wormed her way into the conversation and was batting her eyelashes like jey was gonna give her his autograph.

"that lil girl need to sit down somewhere," serena muttered under her breath.

"who, jasmine?" sierra followed her gaze. "oh lord, she really is layin' it on thick. somebody need to tell her she look desperate."

"not my problem," serena said, though her grip on her fork tightened when jasmine giggled at something jey said.

"mhmm. that's why you stabbin' your mac and cheese like it owe you money."

serena forced herself to look away, focusing on her cousin randal who was telling some story about his new job. she nodded at all the right moments, laughed when she was supposed to, but her attention kept wandering.

after what felt like forever, people started clearing their plates and settling into the lazy afternoon rhythm of a family barbecue. the older folks claimed the chairs in the shade, the kids ran around the yard with water balloons, and the adults her age congregated around the speakers where someone had put on a throwback playlist.

serena was helping clear tables when jey appeared beside her, collecting empty cups.

"you don't have to do that," she said without looking at him.

"i know. i want to help."

they worked in silence for a few minutes, the tension between them thick enough to cut. serena was hyperaware of his every movement, the way he would get to close to her, and reach for the same stack of paper plates and cup she would to attempt to brush against her.

"yo granny's somethin' else," he said as they both reached for the same stack of plates. "she made me promise to take some leftovers back to my hotel."

"that's granny for you. she'd feed the whole world if she could." serena exasperated

jey nodded, his expression thoughtful. "she asked about you, you know. when you went upstairs earlier."

serena stayed quiet. part of her remember what sierra said earlier…to hear him out. another part of her wanted him get the fuck away from her before she tried to see how hard a plastic knife could stick him. 

"what did you tell her?" serena asked despite herself, still not meeting his eyes.

"told her you were probably tired. long day." jey's hands stilled on the plates he was stacking. "she said you been workin' too much lately. not takin' care of yourself."

serena's jaw tightened. "granny talks too much."

"she cares about you. they all do." jey glanced around the yard where her family was scattered in their usual post-meal contentment. "missed this, you know. all of them."

"well they clearly missed you too," serena said, the bitterness creeping back into her voice. "jasmine damn near climbed in your lap during dinner."

jey's mouth quirked up at the corner. "you jealous of a nineteen-year-old?"

"boy, please." serena rolled her eyes, but heat crept up her neck. "i just think it's funny how you show up here after all this time and everybody acts like you never left."

"not everybody," jey said quietly, his eyes finding hers. "you act like you wish i never existed."

serena finally looked at him fully, taking in the familiar planes of his face, the way his eyes crinkled slightly when he was being serious. "some days i do."

the honesty in her voice seemed to catch them both off guard. jey's expression softened, something vulnerable flickering across his features.

"rena—"

"don't." she held up a hand, stepping back. "just… don't."

jey didn't move, his eyes still fixed on her face. "can we talk? please? just ten minutes."

serena looked around. the kitchen had emptied out completely, everyone heading to the yard to start doing the cha cha slide.

jey took a step closer. "ten minutes, that's all i'm asking. and then if you want me gone, i'm gone."

a loud splash followed by raucous cheers and laughter erupted from the yard. serena glanced toward the sound, then back at jey. the kitchen was quiet now, just the two of them standing amid half-cleared plates and the lingering smell of barbecue.

"fine," she finally said, crossing her arms. "ten minutes. and after that, you leave. i mean it, jey."

relief washed over his face. "thank you."

serena leaned against the counter, creating distance between them. "your time's already ticking."

jey ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking nervous in a way she'd rarely seen before. "i don't even know where to start."

"maybe with why you're really here," serena suggested, her voice cooler than she felt. "because i ain't buying that drew just happened to invite you and you just happened to accept."

"i asked him to," jey admitted. "when i found out i was coming to town for the show, i reached out. i've been trying to find a way to talk to you for months."

serena raised an eyebrow. "thats bullshit."

"you changed your number."

"there's a reason for that."

jey nodded, accepting the hit. "i deserved that. i deserved all of it—the blocking, the number change, everything."

silence stretched between them. from outside, the sounds of the party continued, but they felt distant, like they were in their own bubble of time.

"clock's ticking," she reminded him, tapping an imaginary watch on her wrist.

he nodded, running a hand over his hair. "i fucked up. i know tha—"

"we weren't together," she shot back automatically. "remember? you made that very clear every time i brought up where we stood."

jey's shoulders slumped. "i know. and that was me being stupid and scared. i didn't want to put a label on us because i was afraid of fucking it up. and look what happened—i fucked it up anyway."

serena laughed, the sound hollow. "you expect me to believe that? after what i saw?"

jey took a deep breath, leaning against the opposite counter. "what you saw… god, rena, i wish i could take it all back."

"but you can't," she said flatly. "so what now?"

ey stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "what you saw was me being the biggest fool on the planet. i ain't got no excuse that's good enough, but i need you to know something."

he took a deep breath, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "i love you, serena. i always have. never stopped, not for a single day."

serena's breath caught in her throat. "don't."

"it's the truth," he continued, his eyes glistening. "i've loved you since that first night in new orleans when you cussed me out for spillin' your drink and then made me buy you two more."

he ran a hand over his face, struggling to find the words. "the whole time we were together—or whatever we was—i kept thinkin' i wasn't enough for you. not good enough, not stable enough."

serena stared at him, speechless.

"i grew up watchin' my pops lose every damn thing trying to make it in this business," jey said, his voice rough with emotion. "he was gone all the time, chasing that next booking, that next big break. my mama raised us practically alone while he was out there living his dream. and when he finally came home for good, broken down and bitter, she didn't even know him anymore."

jey's eyes were intense, almost pleading. "i swore i'd never do that to someone i loved. never make them sit at home waiting, wondering if i was coming back, if it was all worth it. but then there i was, doing exactly that to you. on the road 300 days a year, asking you to understand, to wait."

"i never complained about that," serena said quietly.

"you shouldn't have had to. i was becoming my father, and i hated myself for it." jey's voice cracked slightly. "so i kept telling myself—and you—that we weren't serious, that we were just having fun. because if we weren't really together, then i wasn't really failing you."

serena felt tears pricking at her eyes. "so you slept with her instead? to prove your point?"

"i was trying to sabotage the best thing in my life because i convinced myself i'd ruin it eventually anyway." jey stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne. "i wanted to be the man you deserved, but i didn't know how. not without giving up everything i'd worked for, and i was too selfish to do that."

serena's heart hammered in her chest. "you could have talked to me. told me how you felt."

outside, the music shifted to something slow and soulful. the late afternoon sun slanted through the kitchen window, casting long shadows across the floor between them.

he looked down at his hands, flexing them slightly. "i was scared that if i fully claimed you, made you mine officially, i'd do to you what he did to my mama. i'd drag you into that life of always wanting more, never being enough."

"that wasn't your choice to make," serena said quietly.

"i know that now," jey admitted. "but back then, i thought i was protecting you. so i kept us in that gray area, tellin' myself we was just having fun, that you were free to walk away anytime."

serena crossed her arms, shaking her head as she processed his words. "you're not the only one who was scared, jey." her voice came out smaller than she intended. "i wasn't any better than you. not really."

jey's brow furrowed. "what do you mean?"

"i mean i played along with the whole 'we're just having fun' thing because i was terrified too." she laughed bitterly, blinking back tears. "every time you'd say we weren't serious, i'd just nod and agree, pretending that's what i wanted too."

"but it wasn't?"

"of course it wasn't!" serena threw her hands up. "i was head over heels in love with you, but too damn proud to admit it. i wanted you—all of you—100%. i wanted to be your girlfriend, your woman, not just some girl you were 'having fun' with in every city."

jey took a step closer, hope flickering across his face. "why didn't you ever say anything?"

"for the same stupid reasons you didn't. i was scared. scared you'd choose the road, the career, anything but me." she wiped at a tear that had escaped. "so i played it cool, acted like i was fine with whatever we were, even though it was killing me."

"rena…"

"and then when i saw you with her, it was like… confirmation of everything i feared. that i wasn't enough, that i was just one of many." her voice broke slightly. "so i ran."

they stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their confessions hanging in the air between them. serena finally looked up, meeting his eyes.

"so what? what's the point of telling me all this now?" she asked, her voice rising with emotion. "we were both cowards, we both messed up, and now what? you think you can just walk back into my life after all this time and—"

her words died in her throat as jey closed the distance between them in two quick strides. his hand caught her by the belt loop of her jeans, tugging her against him. before she could process what was happening, his mouth was on hers, hungry and desperate.

for one stunned moment, serena froze. then something inside her broke loose—all the anger, all the longing, all the love she'd been trying to bury for two years. her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as she melted into the kiss.

jey's hands slid to her waist, lifting her slightly so she was perched on the edge of the counter. she could feel his heart hammering against her chest, matching the frantic rhythm of her own. his fingers tangled in her hair as he deepened the kiss.

with a sudden surge of need, serena pushed against his chest. his eyes widened, thinking she was rejecting him, but she slid off the counter in one fluid motion. her fingers curled into his shirt as she backed him toward the pantry door, her eyes never leaving his.

"what are you—" he whispered, but she silenced him with another kiss, reaching behind him to turn the knob.

they stumbled into the dark pantry, the door clicking shut behind them. the small space was filled with the scent of spices and flour, barely enough room for both of them. serena pressed him against the shelves, canned goods rattling as their bodies collided.

"we shouldn't—your family—" jey managed between kisses, his hands already sliding under her shirt.

"shut up," she breathed against his mouth, her fingers working at his belt buckle.

the metal clinked in the darkness as she yanked it open, her hand slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. he gasped against her mouth when she found him, already hard and straining against the fabric.

jey's head fell back against the shelf as she stroked him, his breath coming in short pants. "fuck, rena—"

his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her in for another desperate kiss before his lips traveled down her neck. the scrape of his stubble against her sensitive skin sent shivers down her spine, her body arching into his touch.

"listen to me," she whispered fiercely, her hand stilling as she gripped his jaw, forcing him to look at her. even in the dim light filtering through the cracks of the door, she could see the heat in his eyes. "i ever find out you're giving dick to another bitch, i'll kill you. i swear to god, jey."

"i'm yours. only yours. i promise, ma."

his hand slid up her thigh, disappearing beneath her dress. "prove it," she challenged, her breath hitching as his fingers found the edge of her panties.

"right here?" he asked, his eyes darting to the door. the sounds of the party outside seemed impossibly distant.

"right here," she confirmed, already working his jeans down his hips. "right now."

he spun them around so her back was against the shelves, lifting her effortlessly. her legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed her dress up, his mouth reclaiming hers in a kiss that left no doubt about who she belonged to.

"someone gone hear us," he murmured against her lips, even as his fingers hooked into her panties.

serena bit his lower lip, her eyes locked with his. "then you better make sure i stay quiet."

the shelves creaked ominously as jey pressed closer, his hands everywhere at once. serena clung to him, as he slid her panties to the side and slid inside her in one complete thrust. her mouth opened on a silent scream.

serena threw her head back, biting her lip to keep from crying out as jey's thick dick stretched her pussy, splitting her wide open. the feeling was overwhelming—like coming home and discovering something brand new all at once. she clutched his shoulders, nails digging crescents into his skin through his shirt.

"fuck," he growled against her neck, immediately starting to fuck her with deep, relentless strokes. "so goddamn tight, baby."

he shifted his stance, wrapping one muscular arm under her ass to support her weight while his other hand reached up to grab one of the shelves above her head. the new leverage let him drill into her cunt with punishing force, each thrust pushing her higher against the wall of canned goods.

"i missed yo ass so much. i missed this pussy," he whispered harshly, his breath hot against her ear. "thought about it every fuckin' night."

serena's eyes rolled back, pleasure building at the base of her spine. "shut up and fuck me," she hissed, her voice barely audible over the sound of their bodies coming together.

jey obeyed, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. the shelf above them creaked dangerously with each thrust, threatening to give way under his grip. serena bit down on his shoulder to muffle her moans, the taste of cotton and his cologne filling her senses.

"nobody fucks me like you," she admitted in a breathless whisper, her pride momentarily forgotten in the haze of pleasure. "nobody."

his pace faltered for just a second before he redoubled his efforts, one hand sliding between them to find her clit. "and nobody ever will," he promised, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with his thumb. "you belong to me. yea?"

the dual sensation of his dick stretching her walls and his fingers working her clit had serena climbing rapidly toward release. she could feel herself getting wetter with each thrust, her slick arousal making obscene sounds as he pounded into her.

"i'm close," she warned, her voice tight with desperation. "don't stop, please don't stop—"

jey's fingers pressed harder against her clit, making tight circles as his hips pistoned relentlessly. "tell me, baby. tell me what i need to hear."

serena's body tensed, her cunt clenching around his thickness as the pressure built to an unbearable peak. she choked back a sob as her release neared, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes from the overwhelming sensation.

"did you miss me?" jey whispered against her ear, his voice rough with need. "did you miss this dick?"

serena couldn't hold back anymore, all her pride dissolving in the heat between them. "yea," she cried out, the admission torn from her throat in a choked, broken sound.

"yea?" he pressed, slowing his strokes to deep, deliberate thrusts that hit something perfect inside her.

"mhmm," she managed, the sound low and desperate.

"mhm," he mimicked, matching her mewl as a smirk played across his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.

something about his cockiness ignited a fire in her. serena slid her hand into his mullet, fingers tangling in the longer strands at the back of his neck. she tugged hard, using his hair as leverage to pull him closer. the sudden pain made him slam into her with unexpected force, hitting so deep she accidentally let out a scream.

panic flashed across jey's face. he immediately released the shelf, his hand flying to cover her mouth. his palm pressed firmly against her lips, muffling any further sounds as he continued to fuck into her soaking wet cunt.

"shh, baby," he whispered urgently, his eyes darting toward the door. "you tryna get us caught? everybody and they mama gone be in here if you keep screamin' like that."

serena's eyes rolled back as she moaned against his palm, the added danger of possibly being discovered only heightening her pleasure. her tongue darted out, tasting the salt of his skin. serena's eyes rolled back, her muffled moans vibrating against his palm

jey's hand remained over her mouth as his thrusts became more erratic. serena's nails dug into his shoulders, her eyes rolling back as she finally tipped over the edge. her orgasm crashed through her in violent waves, her pussy clenching and pulsing around his dick.

"that's it," he encouraged, his voice strained as he fought his own release. "cum all over this dick, ma. show me how much you missed it."

serena's nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks through his shirt as her body convulsed with aftershocks. her pussy contracting violently around jey's thickness.

she felt herself gushing, hot slick flooding between them as her release drenched his dick. her release coated him, slick and hot, making each thrust wetter than the last. her thighs trembled uncontrollably, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

"fuck, baby," jey groaned, feeling her cum drench him. "i can feel you—"

his words cut off as his own orgasm hit without warning. with a final powerful thrust, jey buried himself to the hilt inside her spasming cunt, a guttural grunt tearing from his throat as he came.

she locked her ankles behind his back, pulling him deeper, refusing to let him pull out. the message is clear.

"you sure?" he asks, his control slipping. when she nods frantically against his palm, he loses what little restraint he had left.

his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass, holding her firmly in place as he emptied himself deep within her, his cum pulsing hot against her walls.

serena felt each throb of his cock as he filled her, their releases mixing together in a mess of heat and desire. their bodies remained locked together, both of them panting against each other's skin as they rode out the aftershocks.

"goddamn," jey finally whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. "i forgot how good we are together."

serena let out a breathless laugh, her body still tingling from her intense orgasm. "shut up. we ain't good together. we're fuckin' incredible together."

his smile was bright even in the dim light. "can't argue with that."

the sound of someone calling serena's name from the kitchen suddenly brought them crashing back to reality.

"shit," serena hissed, unwinding her legs from his waist and hastily adjusting her dress. "that's my mama."

jey quickly tucked himself back into his pants, fastening his belt while serena smoothed her hair and wiped at the corners of her mouth.

"serena? you in here?" her mother's voice was getting closer.

"just a sec, ma!" serena called out, her voice surprisingly steady. she turned to jey, her expression suddenly serious despite their disheveled state. "this doesn't fix everything."

jey nodded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "we need to talk for real. not just...this."

serena nodded, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. "i know."

"later tonight?"

before she could answer, the pantry door swung open, flooding the small space with light.

serena froze, her hand still smoothing her rumpled dress as the pantry door swung wide open. the harsh kitchen light flooded in, illuminating their guilty faces and jey's frantic attempts to stuff himself back into his boxers.

her mother stood in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other still gripping the doorknob. her expression shifted from confusion to realization to exasperation in the span of three seconds.

"a damn shame," her mother said, shaking her head slowly. "just a shame. not official my ass." she gestured between them with a dismissive wave. "get yall asses together and get out my damn pantry with that freaky shit."

jey cleared his throat, finally managing to secure his belt. "ms. johnson, i apologize for—"

"boy, save it," she interrupted, though there was a hint of amusement beneath her expression.

before her mother could finish her thought, her eyes landed on something behind them. her face morphed from mild amusement to absolute horror.

"lord jesus—" she gasped, reaching past them to grab a shelf. "y'all knocked over my—"

her mom slams the pantry door back and says, "i just bought them damn peaches, my fucking god. nut assses. its a damn lock on that pantry too."

serena and jey stood frozen for a moment before laughter bubbled up between them, the absurdity of the situation hitting them all at once. they collapsed against each other in the dark pantry, shoulders shaking with silent giggles like teenagers caught making out.

"she really more worried about them peaches than us fuckin' in her pantry," serena whispered, wiping tears from her eyes.

jey's body shook with suppressed laughter. "yo mama ain't changed a bit."

after their laughter subsided, serena straightened her dress one more time. "c'mon, we better get out before she comes back with reinforcements."

they slipped out of the pantry, checking that the coast was clear before hurrying through the kitchen. they managed to make it upstairs without being spotted, ducking into serena's bedroom and shutting the door behind them.

"shit, i look a mess," serena muttered, catching sight of herself in the mirror. her lipstick was smudged, hair disheveled, and there was a distinct flush across her chest that screamed "just got fucked."

jey came up behind her, his reflection appearing over her shoulder. "damn, you look beautiful," he said softly, his hands settling on her hips.

serena met his eyes in the mirror. "don't start again. we ain't got time for round two."

"not what i meant," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder. "but i wouldn't say no."

serena rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. she turned to face him, suddenly serious. "we still need to talk. for real this time."

jey nodded, his expression matching her gravity. "i know. and we will. tonight?"

serena hesitated, then nodded. "yeah. tonight."

she moved to her dresser, pulling out a hairbrush and some makeup wipes. "but first we gotta fix ourselves before the whole family figures out what we been doin'."

jey leaned against the wall, watching as she touched up her makeup. "you think your mama's gonna tell everybody?"

serena snorted. "please. that woman loves drama more than her soaps. by the time we get back downstairs, even the neighbors gonna know we was in that pantry."

jey laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "guess we better come up with a good story then."

serena paused, meeting his eyes in the mirror again. "or we could just tell the truth."

"you wanna tell em, i just fucked you in yo mama pantry?"

"no, goofy!" she laughed as she tossed a shirt at him, "tell em we together...we back."

jey's face broke into the biggest smile she'd ever seen. he lifted her off her feet, spinning her around the small room before setting her down and kissing her deeply.

"alright, alright," serena laughed against his mouth. "we gotta get back down there before somebody comes lookin'."

they finished fixing themselves up, serena adding fresh lipgloss while jey tried to tame his hair. as they headed for the door, serena grabbed his hand.

"you ready for this? 'cause once we go down there together, the whole family gonna know. and you know granny, gonna start planning our wedding and shit."

"too late for that," jey laughed, pulling her toward the door. "she been planning that shit since the first time i showed up here."

🏷️: @caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23 @usoinked @punksyeet @fearlesschimera @holycollectivekitty @luuvprincess @bloodlineslut @levisslut @punksyeet @fafomama @trippinsorrows @psilovey0u @mselenalovebug @sisifromthed @amandairene88 @msbluehaz3 @fearlesschimera @duhitzkay380 @transparentphantomface @isabella-2025 @fairysoulja @wrestlingprincess80 @bebesobrielo

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heyyyyy <3. was so excited to get this one out !

special dt to @prettyfilmz for the little liner i used of “yea.” “yea?” 🩷

[cuzxai]

all i want is you - nsfw

spencer reid x afab!reader

a/n: whys spence lowkey a creeeeeeep and why does the reader not care and stull fucc him afterrrrrrrrrr (i need him to be obsessed with me like this) also sorry this is long as hell for no reason

You don’t know when it started. At least, you don’t want to know. For months, Spencer Reid has been a part of your life—steadfast, dependable, steady in ways you never thought you’d rely on anyone. But somewhere in the quiet moments, the long nights spent working cases, something shifted. You were just part of the team. He was just Spencer—the quiet genius with the messy hair, the awkward charm that crept up on you in the form of shy smiles and brilliant insights. But then came the little things. It started with the way he always seemed to appear at the right moment. When you spilled coffee on your blouse, there he was, awkwardly offering his jacket to cover the stain, his fingers brushing your wrist as you accepted it. When you were tired, zoning out in the break room, Spencer would hand you an energy drink, not saying a word, just a soft glance of concern before he retreated again into his world.

The team had begun to notice it too, the way his attention lingered just a fraction longer when you spoke, how his gaze followed you across the room, how he always seemed to stand a little closer than necessary when you were huddled together around a case file. But it was subtle enough to pass as nothing—nothing but friendship, nothing but the professional camaraderie that comes with spending every waking moment together in the intense, fast-paced world of criminal profiling. You didn’t realize how often you caught him looking at you until you found yourself seeking it out. The quiet moments when he didn’t speak but his eyes would flicker over your face, as though memorizing the curve of your cheek or the way your lips pressed together when you were deep in thought.

It was unsettling at first. But you didn’t think much of it. Maybe it was just Spencer. He was always a little… off-kilter. Not like the rest of the team. Not like Morgan who was so effortlessly confident and always seemed to be the center of attention. Or like Hotch— preserved and quiet, in a scary way. But then it got worse. Or maybe it got better. You didn’t know which.

Spencer started showing up in places he didn’t need to be. You’d be sitting alone at your desk late at night, the office empty except for you and the hum of the fluorescent lights above and then suddenly, he’d be there—just standing, watching you with a look you couldn’t place. At first you’d smile and offer a light comment but his response was always quiet, as if his mind was somewhere else. His eyes would flicker to your face for a moment before he’d shake his head and start speaking, his voice low and urgent.

“I just thought you might need… someone.”

You didn’t question it. Then came the day you found yourself watching him too. It was a case, one of those long, brutal ones that never quite let you go. The team was scattered throughout the station, analyzing evidence, talking to witnesses. Spencer was in the corner, hunched over a pile of files, his brow furrowed in concentration. But his attention wasn’t really on the case. You noticed it then—his gaze was following you again. This time you were aware of it. You could feel it, like a pull at the center of your chest.

You pretended to be absorbed in your own work but your eyes kept flickering over to him, catching the way his head tilted just slightly, the way his fingers drummed absently against the table as he stared at you. The team noticed it too. You could tell by the way Morgan and JJ exchanged knowing glances, the way Hotch’s eyes narrowed when Spencer seemed to hang on your every word, even when it wasn’t his turn to speak. It wasn’t anything overt. There were no blatant looks of lust or longing. It wasn’t that obvious. But it was there. The tension, the energy that seemed to build every time he was near you. It wasn’t just friendship. It wasn’t even just protectiveness. It was something deeper. Something unspoken.

And then there were the moments you tried to push it away, to focus on the case, on the mission at hand. Spencer, ever the professional, never mentioned it. But he was always there. Watching. You caught him once, late in the evening, standing just outside your office door, watching you as you spoke to Derek. At first you were too caught up in the conversation—but when you looked up, his eyes were fixed on you. And the look he gave you… it wasn’t one of simple concern or curiosity. It was possessive, possessive in a way that made something stir in the pit of your stomach. It unsettled you.

The next time you walked through the bullpen, you caught him staring again. His head was tilted slightly, eyes dark, his lips parted just enough to show a hint of his thoughts. You had no idea what he was thinking but the way he looked at you made your skin crawl in the best possible way. It wasn’t until the case was over, until the files were packed away, the suspects apprehended that you realized just how much Spencer had gotten under your skin. And it wasn’t the things he said. It was the things he never said. The way his silence weighed on you like a thousand unspoken words.

The team left for the night but you stayed behind to finish up the last of your notes. Spencer as always, lingered. But tonight he didn’t retreat to the corner. He stayed just a few feet away from you, eyes never leaving your face. When you laughed, an easy sound shared with Morgan across the room, Spencer’s eyes darkened. You caught the way his jaw clenched, the way his hand tightened on the edge of the table. He looked as though the sound of your laughter had physically hurt him, but he didn’t say anything. Not then.

Instead, he stayed in his corner, watching you laugh, watching you with someone else. And in that moment, it shattered something inside him—something quiet and desperate, something he hadn’t yet been able to name. He wasn’t just watching you anymore. Spencer was obsessed. But you couldn’t see it yet. You don’t see it coming—how cold he goes.

It’s not just the way Spencer watches you—though that’s changed too. It’s the weight of his presence when he’s not speaking, the way his attention clings to you even when his hands are busy with case files or his mouth is full of facts. His stillness means more now. When you’re near, he holds himself tight, like if he relaxes for even a second, something might slip out. Something dangerous. Something real.

The others notice before you do. Maybe because you’ve grown used to him always being nearby. Always looking. Always ready. You don’t realize how unusual it is until Morgan teases him in the briefing room.

“You profiling her now, pretty boy?” he says, leaning back in his chair with that shit-eating grin he saves for moments like this.

Spencer’s head snaps up from the paperwork in his lap. “What?”

Morgan gestures with his chin, nodding in your direction. “You keep staring at her like she’s gonna disappear. You okay?”

You glance over in time to see Spencer’s cheeks flush. His hands twitch, eyes darting between you and Morgan like he’s trying to find a safe place to land. There isn’t one.

“I wasn’t—I was just—” He fumbles for a moment. “She had ink on her face.”

It’s a bad lie. Emily snorts into her coffee. Morgan just raises his eyebrows, clearly enjoying the show.

“Right,” Morgan drawls. “Ink. That’s what we’re going with?”

You blink at Spencer, who refuses to meet your gaze now. His ears are pink. His fingers are fidgeting with his pen. There is no ink on your face. You laugh it off. The room moves on. But something about the moment lingers. And then it keeps happening. The presence of him. Always him. Too many times to be coincidence. He’s always the first one at your side when the unsub’s behavior upsets you. Always the one offering water when your hands are shaking. Always the one stepping in to give your profile when you falter, even before you’ve said a word.

And when you look up—whether it’s from across the conference table, or from behind a two-way mirror, or at a crime scene where you’re trying not to cry—he’s already watching you. Eyes soft. Mouth parted. Like he’s waiting for something. You start to wonder if you’re imagining it.

Until Emily corners him in the hallway. You’re on your way to grab coffee when you pause outside the kitchenette and hear her voice—low, calm, careful in that way Emily gets when she knows something. “You need to get a handle on it, Reid.”

There’s a pause. Then Spencer, voice thin and tight, “Get a handle on what?”

“You know what.” A quiet sip of coffee. “It’s not just obvious—it’s loud. And if you’re not careful, it’s going to stop being cute.”

Your stomach flips. Finally, Spencer says softly, “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Emily doesn’t answer. Her footsteps retreat down the hall. You wait a few more seconds, heart pounding then step away like you heard nothing at all.

It’s a few days later when you finally confront him. It’s late. The jet is quiet, humming softly in the air around you. The team is scattered—JJ asleep with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Morgan dozing with headphones in, Rossi flipping through a novel. You’re sitting near the back, feet curled under you, watching clouds streak by through the window. Spencer’s across from you, notebook in his lap, but he hasn’t turned a page in twenty minutes. He’s looking at you again. You don’t let him pretend.

“Why are you always around lately?”

His eyes snap up to meet yours. Wide, startled. Like you’ve struck him across the face. “I—what?” he stammers.

You tilt your head. Keep your voice light. “You’re always next to me. Always watching me. Always… there. It’s not bad. I just—” You pause. “I’m starting to wonder if I should be worried.”

He shakes his head too quickly. “No. No, it’s not—I didn’t mean—” He swallows hard. His hands are clenched tight around the edge of the notebook. “I just… I like talking to you,” he says eventually, barely above a whisper. “You’re easy to talk to.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You haven’t been talking to me much lately, Spencer. You’ve mostly just been watching.”

His lips part. He tries to say something and fails. You see it happen in real time—the way his throat bobs, the way his eyes dart away, how his fingers twitch and his breath catches and something in him fractures. “W-what, I just—” He breaks off again. Tries to recover. “You’re my friend.”

You don’t respond. You just watch him. He looks like he might crawl out of his own skin. You lean back slowly, watching the way he tenses when you move. The way his eyes follow your fingers when you adjust your jacket. How his jaw locks when your ankle brushes his leg. It all clicks, sharper now than ever before. You realize: he can’t look away. The silence stretches again, tighter than before.

“…I’m not trying to be weird,” he says softly, almost too soft to hear. “I just—I feel better when you’re nearby.”

You want to say something. You don’t know what. Your throat feels tight. You look at him. How his hands are trembling slightly, how his mouth is pulled tight at the corners. Like he’s holding something back with every part of his body. Like something inside him is screaming and he’s swallowing it down with sheer will. And then he looks up at you and for just a second you finally see it. Quiet, buried, simmering just beneath the surface. It’s been there for a long time.

You inhale once, deeply. Try to smile. “Okay.”

Spencer’s brows draw together. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you say again. “Just… don’t lie to me about it next time.”

You stand up and walk toward the front of the jet. Spencer stays frozen in place, notebook forgotten in his lap, eyes locked on the seat you just left—like he’s still trying to catch his breath. After that night on the jet, you expect something to shift. A conversation maybe. A moment where he pulls you aside to explain himself, to fill in the blanks. But it doesn’t come. Instead, Spencer pulls away.

At first it’s subtle. He starts sitting further from you at the round table. Stops bringing you coffee in the mornings. Doesn’t text you updates on cases unless it’s strictly necessary. You try not to notice. Maybe you’re overthinking. Maybe he’s busy. But it gets worse. He avoids eye contact. Leaves rooms when you walk in. Brushes past you in hallways like you’re not even there. You send him a meme one night—some stupid article about an antique book auction, the kind of thing he always loves and it stays on “read” for twelve hours before he likes it with a thumbs-up and nothing else.

You think back to the way he looked at you on the jet, like he’d broken something in himself just by being honest. Like telling you the truth had ruined whatever fragile tether he’d been clinging to. Maybe it did. Because now it’s like he’s trying to erase the version of himself you saw that night. And it’s making you crazy.

And of course the team notices too. It’s impossible not to, the way he closes off around you. Emily doesn’t say anything directly but you catch her watching you more than usual—curious, almost cautious. JJ asks if everything’s okay between you two. You lie. Hotch doesn’t say a word but when Spencer fumbles during a briefing—loses his train of thought, goes quiet—Hotch levels him with a look sharp enough to draw blood.

Morgan, though. Morgan calls him on it. You walk into the break room mid-conversation. Spencer is at the counter, nervously stirring his coffee even though it’s already mixed. Morgan’s leaning against the sink, arms crossed, expression tight. “You know I like you, man,” Morgan says. “But this thing with her? You’re acting like a goddamn ghost. Either talk to her or figure your shit out.”

Spencer’s voice is barely audible. “It’s not that simple.”

“Doesn’t have to be this complicated either. She’s not blind, Reid. You think she hasn’t noticed?”

You freeze. Spencer must see you out of the corner of his eye, because his shoulders go rigid. He doesn’t turn.

Morgan sighs. “Look, I’m just saying—don’t let something good rot just because you’re scared of it.”

You back out of the room before they realize you’ve heard. And a few days later, you give in. You go to his apartment. It’s impulsive, yeah—but you’re tired of waiting. Tired of pretending you don’t feel the shift between you, that it doesn’t matter. You need to hear it from him.

Spencer opens the door like he’s just been hit. He doesn’t ask why you’re there. Just stands in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth parted like he forgot how to speak. You look at him and realize he looks like shit. His hair’s a mess. His shirt is wrinkled. There are dark shadows under his eyes and the apartment behind him looks untouched, like he hasn’t been living in it so much as existing in it.

“Can I come in?” you ask softly.

He hesitates. Then steps aside. You sit on his couch as he paces. You wait and he doesn’t talk.Finally you speak, “Why are you avoiding me?”

He flinches. Like you stabbed him. “I’m not,” he lies, badly.

You stare. He rakes a hand through his hair, starts pacing faster. “I just—I thought maybe it would be easier. If I… created some space. After what I said. After how I’ve been acting.”

You tilt your head. “And how have you been acting?”

He stops to look at you and something in him breaks. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says.

The room goes silent. You just stare as he keeps going.

“I’ve tried to stop. God, I’ve tried. I’ve read studies on compulsive thought, on emotional fixation, on cognitive behavioral therapy and none of it—none of it works.”

His hands are shaking now. His voice is high and desperate and nothing like the quiet man you usually know. “I think about you all the time. When I wake up. When I go to sleep. When I’m supposed to be working. I find excuses to walk past your desk. I memorize the way you laugh. I—” He swallows. “I’ve replayed every conversation we’ve had more times than I can count. I know your coffee order, your favorite pen, the way you write your E’s with that little hook at the top. I—”

You blink hard— he’s unraveling in front of you, rambling.

“I didn’t mean to get like this. I just—at first, it was harmless. You were nice to me. You listened. You asked me questions about books no one else cared about. And then suddenly, you were important. Like… vital. Like if you weren’t there, the whole day felt wrong.” He laughs, but it’s hollow. “I started counting how many hours you spent with me versus the rest of the team. It didn’t feel like enough. It still doesn’t. I dream about you. I’ve imagined—God, I’ve imagined so many scenarios where I say something or you say something, or we just…”

He cuts off. Breathing hard. “I sound insane,” he whispers.

You’re still staring at him, your throat is tight, your fingers are cold.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know I shouldn’t say any of this. I know it’s not fair to put it on you. I just—”

“Spence,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looks at you like you’ve asked him to solve the riddle of the universe.“Because it’s too much. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve someone obsessing over you like—like a fucking stalker—”

“You’re not a stalker,” you say sharply.

He freezes. You run a hand through your hair, exhale shakily. “You’re just… overwhelmed. You care. Too much maybe but not in a bad way.”

He doesn’t move. You meet his eyes. “How long has it been like this?”

“Months.”

You exhale again. “Jesus.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t need you to say anything.”

“I—” You hesitate. Then laugh softly, disbelieving. “This is a lot. I’m honestly kind of shocked. You’ve been this close to me for months and I had no idea.”

Spencer lowers his head. “I tried to hide it.”

“Yeah, well. You’re not great at that anymore.” You sit with the silence for a moment. Then because you’re not sure how else to ground yourself, you say, “I didn’t think you felt that way. I thought you were just being… Spencer. You know. Thoughtful, sweet, quiet.”

He flinches. “I wasn’t being sweet. I was— am obsessed.”

“You can be both.” You tilt your head. “I don’t know how to feel about all of this,” you admit. “I’m overwhelmed. It’s crazy. But…”

Spencer holds his breath.

“…I do have a crush on you.”

He doesn’t move. Just stares like he’s not sure he heard you right. You nod, slowly. “I don’t know what to do with all this yet. But I wanted you to know that part. That it’s not just you.”

Spencer sinks onto the couch beside you like his legs gave out. You sit in silence. Both breathing like the wind just got knocked out of you. Nothing is solved. But something is very much beginning. Spencer’s still staring at you, his face flushed with disbelief. His lips move but no words come out and for a moment, it feels like you’ve broken him.

“I—” His voice cracks, and he starts pacing again. “I never thought—this isn’t something I can just… you don’t—God, you don’t understand how long I’ve—how much I’ve—”

He’s rambling, stumbling over his words like he’s trying to make sense of something he’s only just realized. And it’s a bit too much. You’re overwhelmed by the intensity of his reaction, the vulnerability in his voice, the way his eyes are burning with something dangerous. You never thought it would get to this point—this level of intensity.

“Spence—” you start, trying to find the words to calm him down.

But he keeps going, voice rising with every sentence, “I’ve tried—God, I’ve tried to hide it but it’s been too long. I—I don’t know what to do with this, with you, with how much I—”

You can’t take it. Not anymore. Before he can go any further, you move forward and pull him into a kiss. His lips are soft and surprised at first but he’s quick to respond. The kiss deepens almost immediately, his hands coming to your waist like he’s anchoring himself to you. You feel his desperation in the way his fingers dig into your skin. His mouth moves against yours, hungry and frantic as if he’s trying to swallow the confession, trying to make it real—make it something tangible.

You break the kiss just for a second, your breath coming in shallow pants. “Stop talking,” you say, your voice shaky.

Spencer’s eyes are wide, pupils blown, his breathing uneven. He’s standing there, frozen for a split second, before he surges forward again, crashing his lips to yours with all the intensity he’s been holding back. His hands roam up your back, pulling you close, and you let him, feeling the heat between you grow exponentially. Every movement is deliberate, possessive. He’s claiming you—marking you as his in a way that makes your heart race. The tension in the room is palpable, thick with everything that’s been unsaid.

He pushes you gently but firmly against the armrest of the couch, his body pressing against yours as he grinds down, a low growl escaping his throat when you gasp against him. His mouth leaves yours only to trace a path down your neck, the softness of his lips contrasting with the harshness of his grip.

“God, I’ve wanted this… wanted you,” Spencer murmurs against your skin. He pulls back for a moment, his gaze heavy, almost possessive, as if trying to make sure you’re still there, still his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be like this. But I—”

You grab his face, forcing him to look at you again. “Spence,” you whisper, your hands trembling as you brush his hair back. “You’ve wanted me. You’ve wanted this. We want this.”

He exhales a shuddering breath, his eyes flickering with uncertainty but it’s quickly replaced by a surge of need. He presses his lips to yours again, kissing you harder this time, his hands moving feverishly to undress you. There’s no hesitation in him now—just urgency. You feel him against you, his hard chest pressing into yours as he pulls your shirt off in one swift motion. The hunger in his touch is intoxicating, and the way his hands move over your skin is almost worshipful, like he’s afraid to let go. His lips follow every inch of your exposed skin, leaving fire in their wake.

“Let me,” he whispers, his voice rough and low as he slides his hands down your sides, tugging at your jeans. “Please, let me take care of you.”

You nod, caught up in the intensity of it all. He’s not the Spencer you’re used to—the gentle, quiet genius. He’s someone else now, someone darker, and the way he’s looking at you now makes something inside you tremble. He pushes your jeans down your legs, throwing them somewhere behind him before his lips find yours again, insistent and hungry. His hands slide up your thighs, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin there, making you shiver.

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer murmurs against your lips. “So perfect. I need you… so much.”

You can’t stop the way your body responds, aching for him. He kisses you again, deeper this time and the way his tongue slips against yours sends a shock of heat through your entire body. He leans back slightly, looking at you as if he’s memorizing every detail—your flushed skin, your half-lidded eyes, the way you’re trembling under his touch. “You want this too, don’t you?” he breathes.

You can’t form words. You only nod, your hands reaching for him desperately, tugging him back down to kiss you. And when his lips leave yours again, trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, you almost lose your mind. His hands finally move lower and you gasp when you feel his fingers slide beneath the waistband of your panties, teasing you. Spencer is careful but the possessiveness in his touch is undeniable. His fingers slip lower, brushing against you in a way that makes you moan before you even realize it. Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers slide inside, his movements slow, deliberate—making you ache for more. His lips are on yours again, kissing you deeply as he works you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. But just when you think you might break, he pulls away— leaving you gasping for air. He looks down at you, his expression one of tortured need, and his voice is raw when he speaks again.

“Say it,” he demands, his eyes boring into you. “Tell me you want me.”

You don’t hesitate. “I want you, Spence. I want you so much.”

And that’s all he needs. Spencer doesn’t even seem to register that you’ve said it. Not at first. His mouth is still open slightly, his breath stuttering as though you’ve knocked something loose in his chest. The moment stretches long—his hands twitching where they hold you, his eyes searching yours like he can’t quite believe what he heard. But then you kiss him again. You lean in and do it before he can speak, before he can unravel into one of his frantic, whispered spirals. You cut him off with your lips, slow and certain and the second your mouth meets his again, something in him snaps.

He groans softly, a sound he tries to swallow but can’t and then his hands are on you—palming your waist, sliding beneath your shirt, desperate to feel more. He pulls away for just a moment to tug your clothes off, muttering soft apologies as his fingers fumble with your waistband, his own breath catching when you help him, stripping him down with the same kind of frantic purpose. When you’re both finally bare, he still doesn’t rush. He just stares.

“God,” he breathes, touching your face. “You’re so…”

He doesn’t even finish the thought. His lips are back on yours. Hungry, open-mouthed and messy. He kisses like he thinks he might never get the chance again. Like he’s waited so long he forgot what it might feel like. You gasp as his hand finds its way between your legs, fingers slipping through slick heat. He groans against your mouth.

“Do you know what this does to me?” he whispers, fingers gliding through you slowly, purposefully. “You’re soaked and I haven’t even done anything.”

“You’re doing enough,” you manage, hips lifting into his touch. “Don’t stop—”

“Not stopping,” he murmurs. “Not ever.”

And when he finally lines himself up, nudging into you with a slow, aching push, your body stretches around him, and both of you go still. He doesn’t move. Just stays there, fully inside you, trembling slightly as he braces himself on shaking arms.

“You feel…” His voice is barely a breath. “You feel unreal.”

Your fingers slide up his back, over the tension in his shoulders, pulling him down so your foreheads touch. “Then keep going,” you whisper. “Make it real.”

Spencer pulls out just a few inches and pushes back in, slow and steady, dragging his hips against yours like he’s savoring every inch. And he keeps that rhythm—deep, deliberate thrusts that never quite pick up speed. It’s not teasing. It’s not restraint. It’s something else entirely—devotion, maybe. Obsession. He watches your face with open desperation, like he’s trying to memorize every twitch of pleasure he causes. His hands move constantly. One cups your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek as he kisses you again. The other grips your thigh, pulling your leg around his waist so he can press even deeper, groaning softly as he does.

You moan against his mouth, fingers digging into his hair. “Spence—”

“I know,” he says, panting. “I know.”

He rocks into you over and over again, never faster, never harder—just more. More depth. More heat. More of his body against yours. You feel him everywhere, all of him, sweat-slick skin sliding against yours, his lips roaming down your neck, your shoulder, your chest.

He whispers everything he’s never said aloud, “I think about you constantly. I can’t sleep when I don’t know where you are. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

And it’s too much but you don’t want him to stop. You don’t want it to end. Your bodies roll together in waves, slow and molten, dragging pleasure out like a thread neither of you wants to cut. You feel the tension building in your core, slow and warm but never tipping. Spencer seems to sense it too—his pace remains steady but the way he holds you tightens, the way he kisses you turns messy and hungry. Still no urgency. Just need.

When your legs tremble around him, he slows even more, nearly stopping, breathing hard against your skin. “Not yet,” he murmurs. “I want to stay here. Like this. As long as you’ll let me.”

You kiss him again, open and soft and a little breathless. “Then don’t stop.”

So he doesn’t. Time slips sideways. You lose track of how long it’s been. His hips move in an unchanging rhythm, not quite gentle, not quite rough. It’s not about the destination anymore. It’s about the want. About never having to stop wanting. You’re not even sure if your body can come like this—so slowly, so achingly full but you don’t care. You just hold him tighter. You keep kissing his mouth and his neck and the part of his shoulder that tenses every time he rolls his hips. And you whisper back everything you’re finally ready to say. He doesn’t stop. Not even when his arms start to tremble from the effort. Not when his voice goes hoarse from the dirty things he whispers into your mouth, your neck, your chest. Not when your skin slicks with sweat and your lips are swollen from how many times he’s kissed you like it was the last thing he’d ever do.

Time slips sideways—you’re not sure how long he’s been inside you, fucking you slow then fast then slow again like he’s chasing something. Something he can’t quite reach. But you feel it now. In the way his rhythm falters. In the heat rolling off his body. In the quiet, gasping noises he’s trying to smother into your shoulder.

“Spence,” you whisper, nails digging into his back. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

He lets out a broken sound. “Y-yeah. I’m—fuck, I’m so close. I didn’t want to yet. I wanted to wait.”

“For what?” you ask, even though you know the answer.

“For you,” he breathes. “Always you.”

You cup his face and pull him up to look at you. His eyes are wild—dilated and glazed and so, so tender. You’ve never seen him like this. You don’t think anyone has. And you don’t want him to hold back anymore.

“Come inside me.”

Spencer freezes. His eyes go wide, lips parting in a stuttered gasp. “W-what?”

You stroke his cheek, pull him even closer. “I want you to. Please.”

His whole body shudders, a sound slipping from his throat that’s somewhere between a moan and a whimper. He buries his face in your neck, groaning into your skin like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

“You don’t—you really want me to—” he’s panting, the last of his restraint splintering into nothing. “God, baby—fuck—you’re gonna ruin me.”

And then he lets go. His hips slam into you one last time, deep and hard and he spills inside you with a groan so guttural it sounds pulled from his spine. His whole body collapses over yours, trembling with the force of it—his arms locked around you, mouth pressed to your neck, saying your name over and over like a prayer. You wrap yourself around him and hold him through it—his weight, his shaking, the wet warmth of him inside you. Neither of you speaks for a long time.

Finally, he lifts his head—just enough to look down at you. His voice is quiet. Raw. “Was that okay?”

You nod, stroking his damp hair back from his forehead. “That was more than okay.”

He leans in and kisses you again—soft this time, slow. Almost reverent. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You laugh a little. “For what?”

“For letting me have you like this.”

[madamechrissy]

Endless Summer - chap two preview!

Pairings- Yandere! Caleb x F!reader

Warnings- masturbation (caleb mostly hehe) mutual pining, Caleb thinking filthy things about you!!

It's Here

“Good night Caleb. Love you.” His heart aches, wishing it fucking meant more than that, than a best friend, whatever the fuck you two were.

The way he means it is not the same. “Love you, Pips, sweet dreams.”

He walks out and gently shuts your door, you let out a ragged breath, hand over your racing heart, as he leans his head against your door, palm over it, struggling to compose himself.

He can’t stop himself from jerking his cock as soon as he gets in his room, he barely makes it inside, releasing his thick, veiny length that smacks his belly button, smearing precum on his shirt as it slaps, leaking from his pretty pink tip. He exhales in relief, before crying out, his long lashes fluttering shut, seeing you behind his eyes.

He can't stop himself from picturing doing exactly what he told you - having you cum till you pass out. Fuck he’d keep licking you after, have you cum in your sleep - drink the juices he tasted on his tongue earlier, as you tugged his head even closer. God would you use him like he wishes you would?

God, if you’d suffocate him with those? He’s picturing them on either side of his head, god would you ride his face? He spits down on his cock as he leans back against the door, groaning softly at the thoughts, his eyes shutting as he strokes himself, maybe he would while you suffocated him with your cunt, drown him in all that fucking wetness just pouring.

Caleb murmurs your name as he strokes his cock, from the base to the tip, whining out from the images racing through his mind of you - you and only you - how could there be anything else? The only girl he can ever picture sinking his long, thick cock deep inside, watching the bulge of your tummy as he fills you, so big in comparison.

He’s closer, closer to cumming, the release just on the brink as he pinches his tip and gasps out, remembering your scent, your heat on him - he shouldn’t be doing this when you’re in the room across from him. He should feel bad, but he can’t, not when he’s about to cum, picturing filling up your cunt, so much your tummy would just bloat with all the loads he’d put in you.

Caleb should feel bad for wanting you, for cumming now, white hot ropes filling all over his hand, making it a sticky mess as his head rests against the door of his room, knowing you’re over there is pure fucking torture. Knowing he can never say it, all he fucking feels, it’s a cruel joke, to wonder what you’re doing over there, to wonder how you look when you cum, how you’d look taking him.

He hastily cleans up, hands shaking as he does. Later, he's swiping a hand across his face as he lays in his bed, grimacing at his thoughts, not realizing you’re circling your clit with your little fingers in the room across from him, picturing him on top of you. If he knew that, he wouldn’t be able to handle it, as you scream into your palm under your blankets, picturing the boy you grew up with cumming inside you.

perm tags- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoblue-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[butyoudidthis4what]

No Man's Land Part 5

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

You can find Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, and Part 4 here!

42k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: No super specific wedding details are given; some anxiety; very fluffy; Robby and Jake make up; Jack is a consent king; use of eyedrops; unprotected PIV sex (bc implied with relationship); oral sex (both m and f receiving); fingering; dom!Jack; manhandling; light condescension; bondage; use of your underwear as a gag; knife appears in the bedroom but is not used on anyone; doggy; alcohol; reader: loves champagne, sits on Jack’s lap, takes Jack’s last name, gets drunk, wears a dress; author: did not proofread, faded to black on a lot of sex, did not pick a wedding venue because I’m too picky; overwhelmingly NOT proofread; no use of y/n or related

Summary: You and Jack get married.

AN: And so we've reached the end. The wedding fought me every step of the way, so hopefully that is not reflected in the quality of it, lol. I'm sure part of it was some subconscious block because I don't want them to end. Honestly, it’s quite bittersweet and a little emotional posting this final part as silly as that makes me feel. I've just spent a lot of time in their heads. While Part 1 was not the first Jack fic I posted, it was the first one I worked on and the idea that got me writing again after a four years. Thank you all so so much for reading and supporting me along the way! ♥️ I would be nothing without you all, so truly, thank you for reading the copious amount of words this universe became. I hope it lives up and feels like the ending they deserve. ♥️

Jack’s forehead furrows as his eyebrows raise at your question. “Flew to Vegas tomorrow and elope?” He wants to make sure he heard you correctly. 

“Yeah.” You nod vigorously, eyes wide and eyebrows drawn together. You start chewing on your bottom lip and playing with your fingers in your lap. Jack knows you’re genuinely distressed right now and he hates it, hates that he caused it, even inadvertently. He sits up further, leans forward so that he’s closer to you where you sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Well, I… I think,” Jack pauses, just needs another second. “I think you’ll regret it, not having the wedding. And don’t-” Jack reaches out and grabs your wrist gently so that you can’t get off the bed like you were moving to, he can already hear your brain attacking you. He finds your gaze again before he keeps talking. “Don’t think that means I don’t want to get married to you. I do. And if we decide we want to elope to Vegas or anywhere else, then I’m okay with that. As long as you end up my wife, okay? I’m not saying no, Doll.” He lets go of your wrist and grabs your hand, laces it with his. “I’m saying that I think we should sleep on it. I think you want the wedding we’ve planned so far and that you’re beyond exhausted and that your anxiety is driving your brain right now, yeah?” 

You just look at him, seem a little like you’re lost to your thoughts, not in them, to them. “I… yeah,” you whisper. 

Jack knows he needs to get you back in bed with him, get you close and help you find your way back and then to sleep. “Come here?” He pats your side of the bed next to him and gives you a little smile. “Please.” You release his hand and crawl over him, snuggle up under the covers into his side and bury your head in his neck. His arms wrap tightly around you and he kisses your temple. “Good girl,” he murmurs, “thank you.” 

You can’t help the way ‘good girl’ makes you shiver. Maybe that’s what you need, you think to yourself, to have Jack fuck you in a hard reset after the week you had. Being in his arms is more than enough though, has you calming and coming back to a state of rationality pretty quick. 

“We’ll sleep on it, okay? I promise we can talk about it in the morning and that I’m not saying no.” Jack clicks his tongue. “Could you pick your dress up early and bring it with us to wear in Vegas?” That makes you snort a laugh into the side of his neck. Jack smiles to himself, pleased he was able to get a laugh out of you. He rocks you a little playfully. “What? I’m dying to see you in your wedding dress.”

“I probably could, yeah.” You slide your hand down Jack’s bare chest a little, trace shapes with your finger, write little messages of love. “But no. We don’t need to sleep on it. I don’t even know what that was. I want what we’ve planned so far.”

Jack rubs your back with one hand. “I’ll check in with you on it tomorrow, okay? Just to be sure. And I think maybe a little panic and a lot of exhaustion. But you also don’t need to know what it was, yeah? It’s okay to not know.” 

You nod. “I just like knowing. Makes me feel like I have some control, which I know is a total fucking illusion.” You sigh into him, nuzzle against his neck. You like the way his stubble feels, it’s oddly grounding for you. “I hate this. Being like this.” 

Jack bites back the urge to say you’re not being like anything because he knows what you mean. Knows you mean you hate feeling so emotionally labile and panicking and feeling out of control. “I know, Doll.” He doesn’t need to say more. It’s not the time. It’s not why you said it. You just need to feel heard and seen. Jack uses his hand on the back of your neck to pull you away from him a little so that he can see you. “Can I do anything?”

You look at him and then to the side as you think. Think back on the flash of a thought you had. Maybe you should ask him to, ask him to fuck you into a hard reset. He does it so well. Knows just how to fuck until you’re sobbing and releasing every pent up emotion in you, and keeps going, fucking you thoughtless and incoherent and unable to feel or think about anything other than him. Knows how to break your mind in just the right way to get all of your emotional turmoil out. Knows how to take his time putting you back together with his touch and his words and his love so that you feel like the normal version of yourself when you wake up the next day, not however you had been feeling. 

He always takes such good care of you after even if the memories of it are so heavily fogged they almost don’t truly exist. He holds you while you keep sobbing, lays on you often, his body weight helping with your shaking, cleans you up, makes sure you get to the bathroom and have some water and sometimes a snack before you fall asleep, whispers reassurances and little expressions of his love while he rocks you until you fall asleep, holds you the entire night as you sleep curled up on him. 

Yeah. You think that just might do the trick, especially with as exhausted as you are and how hard he’ll make you sleep. 

Your eyes find Jack’s again, his eyebrows slightly raised. He knows you thought of something with how long you were looking away. Your expression, the look in your eye and the specific way you look at him makes him think he knows what you need. “Jack,” you whisper. Your voice confirms it. 

Still though. He wants to be explicitly sure so that he doesn’t start something you weren’t asking for that will actually hurt you or make you worse. “Fuck you all the way gone?”

“Yeah.” You nod, eyes already blown wide. “Please.” 

Jack nods, rolls the both of you so that you’re on your back with him hovering over you. “You’re sleeping until you wake up tomorrow. I’m not setting an alarm and I’m not waking you up when I wake up. And if you wake up at a time I deem to be too early you’re going back to sleep, even if I have to put you back to sleep myself.” He drops his hips against you then and grinds against you as if you didn’t already know what he meant. “Deal?”

“Deal,” you breathe.

Six weeks. Only six weeks left until the wedding. It feels so short and so long at the same time. Pretty much everything is planned, everything you could possibly do up to this point is done. It’s just a waiting game for the next couple of weeks. 

You’d worked late tonight so you went to the hospital instead of home, planning on surprising Jack and suggesting you grab dinner somewhere if he was up to it after his shift. If not, maybe you could grab takeout on the way home. 

When you found Jack he was finishing some charting at the desk and talking to Robby. Somewhere along the lines the conversation between the three of you turned to your bachelor and bachelorette parties.  

“No strippers.” Jack glances up at Robby from the computer. 

“Okay.” Robby nods. 

Jack looks up at him again. “No strippers.” His eyes return to the computer.

“No strippers.” Robby nods again. He doesn’t even sound facetious. Something about the interaction so far is quite entertaining to you. 

“Hey,” Jack looks up at him again, “I’m serious. No strippers. She won’t even be the mad one. I will be. No strippers.” 

“Peter, he agreed the last two times.” Jack looks over at you and blinks as you nod. You know you should stop there but you can’t help yourself. You shrug, try and look nonchalant. “He’s seen my boobs, he knows you don’t need to be looking at any stripper’s tits.” 

Jack’s head whips back over to Robby, eyes glaring just a little at his best friend. 

“Woah, woah, woah! Okay, I never said that.” Robby holds up his hands. “She did. I didn’t even think about that. I was simply respecting the boundary you set when you said no strippers for your bachelor party.” Robby brings his hands back down and shrugs. “But again, they’re very nice b-”

“I,” Jack interrupts Robby loudly to get him to stop talking before returning to a normal voice, glaring daggers at him now, “will cancel the entire party and find someone else to officiate our wedding if you finish that fucking sentence Michael.”

You struggled to hide your laughter the second Robby started to say you have nice boobs again but Jack’s reaction pulls an audible laugh from you. Both Robby and Jack turn to look at you. “I just,” you shrug, “you guys are funny.” It didn’t escape your notice when Myrna moved in closer. You and her shared a conspiratorial look, something you seem to often do when you’re together.

“You know,” Myrna interjects. All three sets of eyes find her in her chair a little behind Jack and Robby. “I could show Fruitcake my tits. Then they’d be the last pair he saw.”

“Thank you, Myrna, that would be perfect.” Jack smiles at her genuinely before looking to Robby with an overly saccharine smile. 

“Absolutely not. Put,” Robby emphasizes the word and shuts his eyes “your shirt down Myrna.” She’d started to pull it up. He opens his eyes and looks at Jack. “The officiant threat? It works both ways.”

Robby turns and starts to walk away and Jack snorts making Robby stop and turn back around. “Oh please, you love us and her white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies far too much to even dream of it, Michael.”

“Don’t worry Fruitcake, you can have some of this cookie.” Myrna tells Robby with a suggestive eyebrow raise and smirk before starting to wheel herself away.

Jack bites back his laughter and holds his hands up in truce at that one. He goes to say something but Robby stops him. 

“Just don’t.” Robby holds his hand up at Jack. “Just don’t say anything and we’re all going to leave and you’re going to buy me several drinks.” 

Jack looks over at you, eyebrows raised, smirking. “I suppose I did kind of start it, didn’t I?” You admit with a nod. “A few drinks seems fair.” 

The wedding is in five weeks, just over a month. It’s all you can think about as Jack drives you to Dana’s house. It’s 2 p.m. on a Saturday. You’ve been invited over for a little party for Dana to show off the kitchen remodel they just finished on the house. 

“Did she say if lots of people are coming?” you ask Jack. 

Jack shrugs. “She didn’t, no. Just said to show up with you.” You smile at that. Sounds like Dana. 

“Hey, are you doing the whole something old something new thing?” Jack asks.  “I heard a patient discussing it yesterday and it made me wonder.”

“Oh, I hadn’t really thought about it I guess.” You think on it for a few seconds and then shrug. “I mean I guess I’d like to but no, probably not. Where would I get that stuff from, you know? I don’t want to ask anything else of anyone, everyone has already done so much for us.”

Jack hums in acknowledgment. “People would if you asked. Without hesitation or feeling burdened.”

“I know, but still. It’s really not a huge deal.” You look over at Jack and squeeze his hand where it rests on your thigh. “It’s not like we’re doing all of the wedding traditions.”

“No we most certainly are not.” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to glance at you with a bit of a lopsided grin. Jack turns down the street and finds a place to park. “Time to go see how many people showed.” He gets out of the car and walks around to open your door for you, gives you a kiss as you get out. 

The two of you walk hand in hand up to Dana’s door and knock. “Hi!” Dana throws the door open. “So glad you could make it!” You’re both ushered in as you exchange hellos and hugs. Jack and Dana share a look as you set your purse down on the credenza with your back to them. 

“Well! Lead the way! I’m excited to see it, especially since you wouldn’t tell me which granite you settled on.” You throw her a look. 

She laughs, starts walking you through the hallway towards the kitchen. But the three of you stop once you hit the living room. 

The living room is decorated in bridal shower decor, a banner reading ‘bride to be’ hanging from the mantel and sitting and standing and mingling amongst it all are a few of your coworkers who you’re close to, your friend, and many of the Pitt crew, Victoria, Samira, Cassie, Mel, Heather, Kim, Parker and Princess. A chorus of soft ‘surprise!’ rings out as everyone looks at you and tips their cups to you. You smile and give a little wave, still shocked and struggling a bit to process. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble. “Dana?” You look over at her questioningly. “You didn’t… this is… wow.” A surprise bridal shower for you. A genuine, you had no fucking clue you weren’t coming here for a get together to show off the remodeled kitchen, surprise. 

“Surprise!” Dana laughs. 

“Yeah,” you laugh out incredulously. You turn to Jack. “Did you know?” You’re not sure why you’re asking. You can tell from the lack of surprise on his face that he did. 

“I did, but only for like a week,” Jack explains. You give him a lingering look of bewilderment mixed with incredulity before turning back to Dana. 

“Dana, this is so much.” You shake your head at her a little. “This must have been so much work, I… thank you, I just, I don’t know, I don’t know what to say.” You laugh a little. 

Jack slips away to give you and Dana a moment, goes back to the front door to wait for you to come say goodbye. He smiles to himself. He’s glad Dana ended up planning one for you. She’d asked him off-hand months ago if you were planning one and he’d told her no, you weren’t, but he thought your friend might try to. He didn’t hear anything else about it until last week when she revealed the kitchen party was really a bridal shower for you.

“You don’t have to say anything. All you have to do is come have a good time with us.” Dana smirks at you. “We have so much champagne to get through.” That makes you smile. You love champagne. “And it’s real champagne, not sparkling wine.” She winks at you. 

“Oh I’m sure it’s amazing, I just, I don’t know I feel bad because you guys already threw us such an amazing engagement party, and now this and you really didn’t have to. I love it and appreciate it so much, I just hope you didn’t feel like you had to since I wasn’t planning one.” Your brows and forehead are furrowed in concern. 

The engagement party wasn’t a surprise, you and Jack knew about it from the beginning. You just weren’t involved in the planning, were given a date and time and eventually a place to show up to. It had been beautiful, incredibly you and Jack, and so obvious how well those who planned it knew you as individuals and a couple. You couldn’t have planned a better one for yourselves. Nor would you have, but you were both told that everyone wanted to celebrate the two of you and if nothing else it was a reason for a party. It had been perfect. And you know this bridal shower will be too. You’re still just floored.

“I didn’t at all.” Dana smiles at you, gives you another hug. “And I wasn’t involved in the planning of the engagement party, that was all Robby and Heather and Mel, so it’s not like I’m pulling double duty. Plus I had a lot of help.” She glances over at your friend who tips her drink at you again with a smirk. Dana releases you but keeps her hands on your shoulders and squeezes. “Come on, go say goodbye to your man and then you can see the granite while you get some food and a drink.” 

“Thank you, Dana.” You manage to catch one of her hands when she takes them off your shoulders. “I mean it,” you squeeze her hand, “it really means so much to me and to Jack and I know I can be bad at expressing it. So thank you.” 

Dana smiles at you warmly in that way she does, eyes knowing and head bowing just a little to make it knowing. “You’re welcome.”

“Alright, let me say goodbye to Jack!” You turn from Dana and walk back into the hallway where Jack’s standing waiting for you, pleased smile on his face. “I can’t believe you knew.” You shake your head at him. 

“Keeping that secret was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and I only knew for a week. I wanted to tell you so badly.” He laughs a little, wraps an arm around your waist to pull you close and you rest your hands on his chest. “But you deserve this. The surprise. The shower. I know you think you don’t and I know me saying you do isn’t going to convince you, but you do.” He leans in and gives you a quick kiss. “Enjoy yourself, yeah?”

You nod. “I always do with everyone here.” 

Jack laughs a little. “Good. I expect to hear all about it later.” 

“I’ll do my best to take notes for you.” You give him a little smirk for a second and then let your face even back out. “You picking me up?”

“Course,” he nods, “just call me when you’re ready Doll.”

“Okay.” The two of you share one last kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” You both walk over to the door and Jack steps out. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” 

A month. Only a month until the wedding. It’s swirling in Jack’s mind as he sits on the couch reading with the quiet buzz of the police scanner in the background when his phone goes off. He half expects it to be a message asking him to come get you from whatever bar or club it is you ended up at. 

Y - u come dwn

Y - ?

Y - pls

An amused smile makes its way onto Jack’s face. He’s seen you pretty tipsy before and it looks like he will be again. He thinks it’s cute the way you asked him to come down, how you knew he’d be up and waiting for you even though it’s 2:30 a.m. 

J - I’ll be waiting. 

Jack is only waiting outside for a few minutes before an SUV driven by Dana’s husband rolls up. He and Jack exchange knowing smiles and shake their heads. Jack walks over to the back door and can hear all the giggles before he even opens it. 

“Peter!” You beam at him, reaching for him with both hands as you sit on the seat of the car with your legs hanging out for a minute. “Hi! I missed you so much!” you giggle. Jack takes in your quite dilated pupils and the way you slur your words a bit and extremely giggly affect.

“Oh, you’re drunk drunk,” Jack laughs to himself as he takes your hands and helps you get out of the car, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist to help support and stabilize you as he gets you on the sidewalk.

The driver’s window rolls down. “They’re all more or less three sheets to the wind. The rest are sleeping in our guest room because I don’t trust them alone at home and don’t think they have partners. I’m glad one of them,” Dana’s husband points at you and smirks, “had the sense to call me and not an uber.”

Jack glances at you. “Yeah, I am too.”

“I was gonna call you but D has a bigger car an’ we could all fit,” you giggle, words slurring together as you lean further into Jack. Someone rolls the window down and Dana, your friend, Heather, and Samira’s heads become visible to varying extents.

Jack looks at them and then back at you and then back to Dana’s husband. “Good luck and godspeed.” Jack nods at him before turning his attention back to you. “Okay, Doll, let’s get you to bed.”

You take in a gasping breath and stand up a little straighter at his words, hands grabbing at the chest of Jack’s shirt. “Fan-fucking-tastic idea, Dr. Abbot. Do y’know how hot you are? Do I tell you enough? Look at him.” You look over at the window. “Wait no don’t he’s mine.” A second later you gasp. “Oh my god and he’s like your boss. Mostly. Kinda.” That makes you all burst into giggles again.

“Okay,” Jack drawls, he already knows his version of bed and yours are two very different things, “say goodnight.” 

“Goodnight! I love you all! Thank you! Debrief tomorrow!” You let go of Jack’s shirt with both hands to blow them all kisses and Jack’s quick to hold you even tighter as you sway now that you’re not holding onto him. You turn with Jack and start walking in, his arm never leaving your waist and hold on you never loosening. 

Getting you inside and to the bedroom is easier than Jack expected. You’re not super unsteady on your feet when he’s helping support you and guiding you. He’s never seen you this drunk, not that you’re blackout drunk by any means, he’s just never seen you like this. He finds it quite adorable, even if it’s a little difficult to keep your attention. 

Once you’re in your room Jack has you stand by the edge of the bed, planning on starting to take your clothes off so he can get you off to sleep. “You know you haven’t even kissed me?” You pout at him. 

Jack gives an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to get you inside safely.” He tilts your chin up and leans down and into you. “Come here,” he murmurs. His kisses are short but filled with so much reverence you could drown in it.

“Jack,” you sigh happily, get your lips on his neck and start to kiss and suck as your hands begin to wander. “Please.”

Jack laughs a little to try and cover the groan he can’t help but make when you manage to nibble at his neck. He pulls back up and looks at you. “Please what, Doll?”

“Please fuck me into next week.” 

“Mm,” Jack gives you a gentle smile and shakes his head, “you, my love, are far too drunk to consent to sex right now, as much as I would love to fuck you into next week.” 

“Jackie!” you whine, pout harder than he’s ever seen. It’s so adorable it’s a bit comical and he stifles a laugh. Maybe if he sees you naked, your drunk brain thinks, maybe then. 

You start taking off your clothes and the only reason he allows it is because he needs to get them off of you. Once you’re completely undressed you bite your lip when he starts to take his shirt off, thrilled your plan worked and ready to surge forward and suck hickies into his chest once he gets his pajama pants off. That’s why you’re so confused when Jack holds his shirt out for you. You only question it for a second though, drunk and horny brain thinking he just wants to fuck you while you’re wearing his shirt. 

You giggle at him. “So dirty, want me in your shirt. Want me to ride you too?” Your slurring is adorably intermittent. 

Jack shakes his head at you with an amused smirk. “I’d like you to come into the bathroom with me so I can take your makeup off.”

“Jack!” It’s a drawn out whine that almost makes his name two syllables this time. “We’re engaged.” You bring your left hand up towards his face and he has to grab your wrist gently to stop you from accidentally shoving your hand in his face. “See? That’s blanket consent.” You wink at him, or at least attempt to.

Jack laughs through his nose, smiling and shaking his head at you. “That’s not how that works, Doll.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and lean back on your elbows, open your legs for him a bit. “I think yes it is.” 

“I know no it’s not.” Jack raises his brows at you and gives you a little look with a small smile.

“Well I’m sayin’ yes,” you slur defiantly.  

“Doll, you are too drunk to say yes and have it mean yes. So I’m saying no, okay? First thing in the morning.” Jack gives you a little smiled grimace, trying to keep it light and tease you a little about the hangover he’s sure you’ll have. “If you’re feeling up to it.” 

But the humor doesn’t land and exactly what he was worried about happening happens. 

“You don’t want me?” It’s suddenly far more serious, your voice dripping with some real hurt, real insecurity. 

“I always want you.” Jack crouches down and holds your face in his hands, brushes his thumbs over your cheeks. “Hey,” he calls softly when you won’t meet his eyes. “Look at me.” You don’t. “Please? It’s important.” It takes a second but eventually you do as he asked and he gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile and gentle squeeze of your face. “I always want you. And if you weren’t drunk, absolutely, I’d already be inside you. Remember, I said you’re too drunk to consent as much as I would love to fuck you into next week?” You blink at him, vaguely recalling him making such a statement but eyeing him suspiciously. “I promise you I am very hard right now. So please believe me that this has nothing to do with whether I want you and am attracted to you because yes and yes, I promise you Doll. I always want you. Your trust in me to protect you and take care of you and respect you is something I want too. My wants are at odds right now.” Jack goes to say more but stops, shakes his head a little, smiles at you. “And I know you’re not really taking any of this in so I’m going to stop. But know that I always want you. Always.”

You’re silent for a moment and Jack is concerned you don’t believe him and trying to think of a different approach. “Okay, but I always want you.” You smirk at him, pulled from your sadness and back to giggly and horny and happy drunk. You grab his hands from your face and try to get them to grab your boobs but Jack won’t let you, pulling his hands away. “So it’s the same. So yes, we can. Yes, it means yes.” 

“That was a poor choice of words.” Jack sighs to himself and brings his chin to his chest for a second. “It’s not quite the same or what I meant.” He shakes his head at you. “As soon as you’re ready to and want to once you’re sober, okay?” You whine and go to say something, probably argue more. “I got your favorite Ben and Jerry’s today. You want to-”

You gasp and stand up, Jack following you up and his arms quickly encircling you to keep you from falling over. “Did you really?” 

Jack nods as he guides you back down so you’re sitting on the bed again. “I really did. How about you have some of that and some pedialyte and ibuprofen while I get your makeup off? And then we’ll sleep, yeah?”

“Okay. But only because you got Ben and Jerry’s.” You point at him in the overdramatic way only a drunk person can. 

“Good.” Jack smiles, leans down to kiss your forehead before starting to go to the kitchen. “Stay sitting here, okay? Please.” 

You hum your agreement. “At least one of us will be getting BJs tonight,” you mutter as he walks away. But Jack hears it and starts laughing. 

He turns back to you at the door, nothing but love and adoration in his eyes as he looks at you. “I love you so much, you know that?” You nod at him and let yourself fall back onto the bed.

Two weeks later you’re standing at the desk in the Pitt chatting with Jack. It’s a common sight anymore. You’re waiting for Dana. She’s sneaking out early to go to your last dress fitting with you. The wedding is only two weeks away and while there’s of course last minute wedding stress, truly you’re more excited than anything, ready for it to be here and be Jack’s wife, take his last name. And Jack is just as excited, just as antsy for it to be here. 

“I can’t even see the shoes?” Jack gives you a little pout. It’s adorable and it honestly makes you consider showing him because he’s doing it here at work, in front of people. 

“You can’t even see the shoes,” you confirm, give his pushed out bottom lip a quick kiss. 

“You’re so mean to me having them right here in front of me in a bag and not letting me see!” He gestures at the bag, keeps giving you those puppy dog eyes that almost always work on you. Almost. 

You step a little closer to him and drop your voice so only he can hear. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, okay Dr. Abbot?” You smirk when his jaw clenches and rolls. 

He leans in even closer, hunches a bit to bring your faces closer together. “By giving me a fashion show of your wedding dress and shoes?” He raises his eyebrows and gives you an encouraging smile and nod. He knows you’re most likely taking the dress home tonight. 

“Peter!” You smack at his chest playfully. 

“I had to try!” Jack straightens back up to his full height.

“Mhm,” you hum at him. “It’s too bad, you would have really liked my little make it up to you treat.” Another clench and roll of his jaw.

“Oh? And what would-”

“Oh, hey! You’re here, great.” Robby interrupts Jack who turns to stare daggers at him for interrupting his chance to find out what you had planned. “I uh, I need to talk to you both. Can we talk? Um, over here?”

Robby starts walking towards the family room and you and Jack exchange confused and slightly concerned looks before following him. Robby seems nervous, jumpy almost. Jack knows he hasn’t been like this all day, only just now. Robby holds open the door for you both, shuts it and sits across from you. 

He clears his throat and looks at you. “Jack already told you about Jake and I.” It’s a statement that picks up just slightly at the end as he seeks confirmation. 

“Yes and I’m so happy for you Robby, for both of you. I’d love to meet him when you’re ready, we could have you guys over or something.” You smile at him, warm and enthusiastic and genuine.

Jack had told you about Robby and Jake. Once he’d left your house the morning after Leah’s sister came in Robby had called Jake and Jake answered. And Jake agreed to meet up with Robby at Robby’s place to watch a game and talk some maybe. Apparently it had all come out then. Jack had been right. Robby had been trying to give Jake space and let Jake come back to him, but Jake wasn’t sure how to find his way back to Robby, how to ask Robby to forgive him or how to reach out and ask to hang out, not after everything he’d said that day. And since then over the last month things had been getting back closer to how they were before Pitt Fest between Robby and Jake, different, yes, for multiple reasons, but similar in the amount of talking and seeing each other. 

“Yeah, that would be great, I think he’d enjoy that. He’s asked about you Jack.” Robby looks over at him. “But, um, on that note, kind of, I was won-”

“He should come to the wedding!” You blurt it out and cut Robby off without even realizing it because you just had to say the thought as soon as it came into your head. “Oh my god.” You cover your hand with your mouth and Jack has to laugh. You remove your hand after a second. “I’m so sorry, I just had the thought and, and it doesn’t matter. Please, go on.” 

Robby’s stuck blinking at you for a moment. Jack looks at Robby and then you and then back to Robby and snorts a laugh. 

“He was about to ask if Jake could come to the wedding.”

You look at Jack and back to Robby. “Really?”

Robby nods. “Yeah. But it’s okay if he can’t, like if you don’t have the table space or dinner or any of that I know it’s like two weeks away and you probably can’t change numbers.”

“Of course he can come, we want him to come.” Jack gives Robby a bit of a you had to ask? look. 

“We booked extra spaces and food just in case. And he’s basically your son, he’s not just invited, we want him there! I’m so sorry I didn’t think about it and ask earlier-” 

“Don’t apologize,” Robby cuts you off with a bit of a laugh. “It means a lot that you guys want him there. I appreciate it.” He stands up. “That’s all I had, I just didn’t want you to feel awkward if you had to say no in the middle of the ED because of space or whatever.”

The second you step out someone is calling for Robby. “I’m being paged.” Robby raises his eyebrows and walks backwards for a second before turning around to walk off to where he’s needed. 

“Hey! There you are!” Dana calls, starts walking over to you. It’s strange seeing her in anything other than scrubs. “You ready?”

“Yeah!” You turn back to Jack and lean up for a kiss and quick hug. “I’ll see you soon Peter, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jack returns your hug and kiss, but catches your wrist as you start to walk away. You turn and look back at him with a smile and raised brows. Jack looks serious with just a touch of what seems almost like desperation. “What was it? The make it up treat for me when I get home?”

Your smile shifts into a smirk as you pull your hand from him and walk backwards slowly. “That’s for me to know and you to maybe find out, lover boy.”

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

You and Jack emerge from the metro just across from the Louvre. Grabbing Jack’s hand you lead the two of you over towards a side entrance and enter near the restaurant patio and walk out into the plaza with the inverted pyramid. After you’ve walked closer you release Jack’s hand so that you can take a couple of photos with your phone.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You walk ahead of Jack a bit without realizing it.

“Stunning,” Jack murmurs to himself. But Jack isn’t looking around at the pyramid and the buildings. Jack is focused solely on you. He stays behind you but moves to the side a little bit and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box he’d gotten just for this, takes your engagement ring out of it. He actually had forced himself to wear your ring on a chain around his neck this morning, just for this and had taken it off the chain while waiting for you to use the bathroom earlier in the day.

He keeps himself behind you by a few steps and pulls his pant leg up a bit as he slides down on one knee. Again. 

“What do you think? I know it probably doesn’t live up to expectations with how I went on about it, I just love it so much for some reason.” You smile to yourself and turn to where you think Jack is going to be standing, wanting to see his expression as he takes it in. But he’s not there and so your brows furrow as you start to turn to look for him. 

Jack smiles in anticipation. He knows that it’s a little ridiculous maybe, probably, seeing as how you’re already engaged, but still. As much as his other proposal felt right and was right, this still feels kind of right too. You turn completely and your eyes find him already down on one knee this time.

“Shut the fuck up.” You clamp a hand over your mouth. You know he’s already proposed but even so, that’s the first thing you say? You think to yourself. Really? 

Jack laughs, closing his eyes and leaning forward on his knee a little bit. “Oh my god,” he breathes through a small laugh, smiling as wide as he ever has and shaking his head as he straightens back up and looks up at you. “I love you so goddamn much. That was so perfectly you.”

You pull your hand from your mouth and open it like you’re going to say something and then close it, put your hand back over it. 

Jack has to laugh a little at that too. He decides to keep it short and sweet this time. “You are far and away the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I hope you know that.” He’s still smiling but becomes a little more serious, eyes sparkling with mirth and tears. “I want to do every day and every night with you. I love you. So what do you say, Doll? Will you marry me?”

You move your hand from your mouth as a few tears slip down your face. You’re beaming at Jack as you start to nod. “Yes” you giggle, “yes, yes, yes! I’ll marry you, Jack Abbot.” 

After you spend the day at the Louvre Jack explains why he had you bring a nice cocktail dress with you. He’d made a reservation at a quite upscale Parisian restaurant to celebrate the second proposal. As thrilled as you are to have gone back to the hotel and gotten all dressed up and to be here and as special and as spoiled as you feel, half of you is ready to throw back your champagne and drag Jack back to the hotel. He’s in a pair of slim fit black dress pants, a simple collared button up shirt in white and a black blazer that matches his pants. 

You order a very nice bottle of champagne to share during dinner. Once your glasses are poured, you hold yours up and tip it towards Jack a little. “To the Abbots.” 

Jack swallows hard but mirrors you, lifting his glass and tipping it towards you a little before you carefully clink your glasses together. “To the Abbots.” 

The drink he takes is fairly quick because he wants to watch you and the way your lips wrap around the rim of the flute and how the flicker of the candle on your table with the low lighting of the restaurant make your eyes look almost moltent. He’s particularly wired for you tonight, can’t really put his finger on why. 

Maybe it’s just the whole thing, being in Paris together, having just proposed again, you in that dress. Maybe the second proposal has just really shoved it right back in his face that you’re going to be his wife. His wife. 

Whatever the reason is all Jack knows is he’s been half hard since you left the hotel, and you are, unknowingly in fairness to you, winding him up more and more with every little thing you do. He doesn’t want to rush this, at all, and he doesn’t, but that tension and need for you just continues to build. 

He doesn’t realize it but it’s the same for you. Jack looks so fucking hot dressed like this. He always does but there’s something about this and how rare it is for you to see him like this and the fact that you’re seeing him like this in Paris that’s driving you up a wall. 

You get through the bottle of champagne while eating your appetizer and mains. You both decide on a dessert to share and a drink, Jack picking a fancy scotch you’re praying you’ll be able to taste on him later. 

As your waitress is walking away Jack messes with his tie, unknotting it and shoving it in his pocket before undoing the first two buttons of his shirt. In part because he has a plan and in part because he does in fact feel smothered and too hot, but not from the temperature of the room. “It’s hot in here, I was dying with that thing, sorry Doll.” 

Your eyes narrow and you cock your head at him but don’t say anything. You know he runs hotter than you but, at least to you, the restaurant isn’t particularly hot and you’re usually the one who’s more temperature sensitive. And something about what Jack just did feels familiar. But then maybe you’re just lightheaded and dizzy by how he somehow looks even hotter with his collar open like that. If he takes his blazer off and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows you’ll be on your knees between his legs with everyone watching.

“Hey?” Jack’s voice cuts through your thoughts and brings you back. “You good?” He’s almost a little too nonchalant with the question. 

You look at him for a moment before you smile and nod at him. “More than, Peter. Looking forward to dessert.”

Jack hums low, eyes greedy as they roam over your face, down your neck to your cleavage and then back up so he’s looking you in the eyes again. He fills out well past half hard, thankful he’s sitting and that the table provides cover. “Me too, Doll, me too.” 

Before you can say anything else your drinks are brought over and by the time the waitress walks away again Jack is asking you a question about Versailles tomorrow. It feels like he’s trying to distract you. You let him.

Dessert comes not long after your drinks and looks amazing. It’s as delicious as it looks and the soft moan you let out when you first taste it has Jack even more riled. He’s ready to slam his drink, finish the dessert in two bites and get you the fastest taxi back to the hotel so that he can finally be tasting you or inside of you or fingering you. He doesn’t particularly care which at the moment, he just needs you. 

It hits you mid sip and you take a hum in, have to temper your reaction so you can swallow and not bring the glass down to the table so hard it breaks in your hand. “Tie raincheck.” You nod a little. “Tie raincheck, that is exactly what this is.” 

Jack raises his eyebrows at you, tries to feign confusion. “No idea what you mean, Doll.” Jack takes a sip of scotch.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Yes you do.”

Jack sets his drink down and looks up at you. “Dessert.” He points to it with his spoon.

“Tell me I’m right.” You can feel your pulse quicken, fight the urge to rub your legs together to get the tiniest bit of friction. You can feel yourself getting wetter for him as you think about what’s to come, how he’s going to use the tie on you. 

There’s a subtle shift in the energy between the two of you, Jack becoming far more dominant as you decide whether to behave or be a brat. “Doll.”

“Peter.”

Jack cocks his head at you. “Eat.” There’s a bit of a warning to it. 

“You know exactly what I mean. On the roof of the hospital because we didn’t get to go to the wedding.” You set your spoon down and lean in a bit. “You told me you promised to give me a raincheck on the tie because I’d said something earlier about what you’d wear to the wedding and the tie would be in your pocket at the reception waiting to be used on me.”   

Jack’s eyes darken a bit more and he sets his spoon down, leans in close to you over the table and holds your gaze. “I know that as soon as we finish this,” he nods down at the dessert without breaking eye contact that’s started to smolder, voice lower and more gravelly, “we can go back to the hotel and I can use the tie shoved in my pocket on you and fuck you until you’re so cock drunk off me the only three things you can say are ‘Jack,’ ‘yours,’ and ‘wife.’” He leans back to sit normally and picks his spoon back up, gives you a little smile like he didn’t just promise to fuck you stupid. “Dessert first, yeah?” 

It takes you a few seconds but eventually you nod wordlessly and pick up your spoon. 

You start eating noticeably faster than normal and taking bigger sips of your drink. Jack pins your spoon with the rounded point of his the next time you go for a bite. You look up at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. You’re eating dessert like he asked. 

“Don’t rush.” You let out the smallest whine but Jack catches it, raises his eyebrows and tilts his head at you for a moment before letting your spoon go. 

You do as he asks, slow yourself back down to your normal pace, or at least as close as you can get with how wired he’s gotten you. Jack knows and lets it happen. He knows he’s taking slightly bigger bites than he normally would because as much as he loves teasing you and dragging it out he’s also pretty desperate to get back to the hotel, to tease you and drag it out there. 

You finally finish dessert and your drinks and Jack pays. He flags down a taxi to get you guys back to the hotel and the way he waves and whistles to get the driver’s attention since their window is down has absolutely no business being as hot as it is. 

In the cab you can’t help yourself. Your hand wanders over to Jack’s thigh and moves up and in until you find his semi. You know it’s going to come back to bite you in the ass but you can’t help yourself and rub him, try to get your thumb around the ridge at the head of his cock how you know he likes. Jack stifles a quiet grunt as you get him harder. His jaw clenches, chest starts to heave a little, breathing a bit louder. His hand wraps around your wrist and moves your hand, pins it to the seat between you. You pout, both because he’s stopped your fun and because he deliberately hasn’t given you the satisfaction and looked at you since you got in.   

Just as he always does Jack walks around the car and opens the door for you when you get to the hotel, gives you his hand to take to help you out. He looks at you finally as you take it and let him help you out, gives you a little smirked smile and raise of an eyebrow. He’s quiet as you walk through the hotel and in the elevator. You were hoping he’d push you up against the wall of it and makeout with you, let you find out if you can taste his scotch on him. But no. He just lets the anticipation and tension build. A hand on the small of your back guides you to your hotel room where he opens the door for you. 

“Stop,” Jack instructs you as you step into the bedroom. You hesitate and he sees it, sees you deciding whether you’re going to push him tonight. You decide not to and so do as he asks, stopping in place. “Good.” Jack turns and goes back to get the door deadbolted and secured before coming back to you. 

Warm hands find the zipper of your dress and pull it down, help you shrug out of it. He crouches to get your shoes off and have you step out of the dress. Jack takes his time hanging the dress up, watching from the corner of his eyes how you shift on your feet in anticipation. 

He walks back to you, stands in front of you this time, eyes dragging down your body, lingering on the lingerie you’re wearing, that he had to force himself to ignore after he got your dress off you so he could tease you by hanging it up. “You get this for me?” Jack slips a finger under one of the bra straps and pulls it away before releasing it to snap back against your skin. It makes you shiver. 

“Yes,” you breathe. 

Jack hums at that, brings his eyes to yours and gives you a smile. “So good using your words without me having to ask.” His attention returns to your body and the lingerie. He starts palming at himself over his pants much like you did in the cab. He lets out a low breath as he hardens fully and fights the urge to say fuck it and just take you now because god knows he wants to. 

Instead, he pulls his hands away and moves them down towards the bottom of the set where they play with the waistband, making their way to the side and repeating his actions with your bra, slipping a finger under it and pulling the material towards him before letting it snap back against you. You’re breathing much heavier now, both of you can hear it.

“It’s very pretty, and you’re stunning in it, Doll,” he murmurs, flicks his eyes back to yours so he can look you in the eyes for a second, make sure you know how much he means it. Jack hums as one hand moves to his pocket. He pulls out his pocket knife and flicks it open without looking as his other hand toys with one side of the waistband that sits on the outside of your hip. “It’s a shame really.”

He pulls the fabric out far enough to slip the blade under it and pulls, cutting through the material with ease. 

“Fuck, Jack.” His eyes flash to yours when you say his name. There’s something darkly and deeply possessive about his look. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen it this intense before. It makes your heart beat faster. 

He does the same to the other side, holds onto the material so that he can slide your underwear from between your legs before it hits the floor. He glances down at the gusset and then back at you. “Messy girl.” Jack smirks, and closes the knife, slips it back in his pocket with your underwear. He brings his hand down to your center, runs a couple of fingers through you to see how wet you already are for him. “Fuck,” he groans, other hand rubbing his cock just for some friction and relief, “that for me too?”

You nod and he raises an eyebrow. “Yes, yes. For you. Always for you.” 

Jack throbs against his boxer briefs that are entirely too tight for his liking now. You’re testing his patience without even knowing it, just by standing here and doing what he asks. It’s not a bad thing, he’s just acutely aware of how much teasing you is teasing him. 

He pulls his hand away and licks his fingers clean and his other hand pops the clasp of your bra. The whole thing makes a shiver race up your spine, goosebumps breaking out over your skin. He tosses the bra aside and spends a moment just looking at your breasts, licks his lips without even realizing it. 

Jack pulls away a bit and his hand finds his other pocket, pulls out the tie. You whimper a little at the sight. “Now, what to do with this?” He cocks his head at you. “Could gag you with it. Tie your ankles together.” His hands find yours, bring them up in front of you and turn your wrists slightly so that your hands are in front of your chest, palm to palm like you’re praying. “I think,” Jack lilts, “this is what we’re going to do. You were just so handsy in the cab, afterall, I’m sure you had your fill of touching me then. Plus,” he takes your underwear from your pocket and lays it over one of your shoulders, “we have these for your mouth.” He binds your hands together with the tie expertly, running it across the back of your palms and fingers in addition to your wrists so you can’t even open your hands to try and touch him. He knots it off with a bowline knot. Strong, but very easily undone should the need arise. 

“No!” You shake your head at him, whining and pleading. “I didn’t, I didn’t!”

Jack hums at you. “Well that’s also a shame, then.” He grabs your underwear from your shoulder and brings them to your mouth. “Open.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jack freezes immediately. Wait is not one of your safe words but it’s also not something you end up saying that much during sex, especially not how you just said it. “No! Not bad!” That stops him from pulling out the knot. “A kiss, please.” It’s almost begged and Jack lets out a little laugh, a small amused smirk forming. “I want to know if I can taste your scotch on you, please, I’ve been thinking about it since you ordered it. Please, please, Jack. I’ll be so good, please!”

The smirk slips from Jack’s face as his jaw grinds at your words, at how you’ve been thinking about tasting him for that long. “I suppose you’ve been listening quite well so far.” You both know this is as much for him as it is for you after your admission. 

Jack holds your face in his hands and leans in to kiss you. Your mouth opens in anticipation and he’s quick to give you what you want, sliding his tongue into your mouth, one hand sliding from your face down to grope at your ass as he gets lost in the kiss. It’s longer than he intended but he doesn’t care, he can’t get enough of the moans it’s pulling from you every time he licks into you and sucks on your bottom lip. 

He forces himself to pull away. “So?”

“Yeah,” you pant, “I could. Tasted so fucking good.” 

“Good.” Jack steps back and takes his hands off you but hovers them nearby for a second to make sure your balance is okay with your hands tied like they are after leaning into him for the kiss. “I hope you enjoyed it because the next time I kiss you I won’t taste like it.” He brings your underwear back to your mouth. “You remember everything?” He’s asking if you remember how to get him to stop when you have neither your hands nor your mouth like this. You nod and he can see in your eyes that you do. “Good,” he nods. “Open.” You do and he stuffs your underwear inside of your mouth, thumb brushing over your bottom lip when he’s finished.

You track his every movement as he walks over to the desk and takes his blazer off, sets it over the back of the desk chair. He turns and looks at you, walks back so that he’s only six or so feet in front of you and undoes the button at one of his wrists, starts rolling his sleeve up just below his elbow, and doing the same with the second.

If you trusted yourself to get onto your knees safely with your hands tied like this you would, spit out your underwear and crawl over to him. But you don’t so all you can do is stand there and whine a few moans at him, try to plead with your eyes, for what you’re not entirely sure. 

Jack hums at you. “Bet you wish you hadn’t been handsy in the cab now, don’t you?”

You whimper at that, hand your shoulders a little. Jack smirks. 

He walks to the bathroom and grabs a clean towel, lays it over the edge of the bed. “Go sit.” You do as he asks, quivering in anticipation the whole time. Jack walks to the head of the bed and grabs a bunch of pillows, props them all right behind you. He wants you to lean back and watch, wants to be able to make eye contact with you. 

Jack walks back to the edge of the bed and stands in between your legs when they automatically part for them. “You gonna be good and watch?” 

You nod rapidly, not even sure what it is you’re going to be watching but knowing it’s going to feel almost too good and be almost too erotic to stand with how keyed up you are.

“Good,” Jack nods. He sinks to his knees then and you let out a muffled cry at the realization. His hands find your ankles and he rests the flat of your feet on his shoulders, pulls you down by the hips so that your ass will just slightly be hanging off the bed and tilting your hips up when he gets you to lay back. He pulls the pillows closer to you again. “Lay back.”

Jack nods at you, looks down at your cunt, now perfectly on display for him, swollen and glistening. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, smirks when it has the desired effect and has you clenching around nothing and whining. Jack kisses the insides of your thighs, sucks at your skin hard enough to burst blood vessels, nibbles at you. He turns his attention back to your pussy. “You smell so good.” He kisses just above your clit and you roll your hips, using his shoulders as leverage. He tilts his head and rests it on your thigh for a second as he looks up at you. It’s a bit of an unexpected move, not one you can recall him doing to you, though you frequently do it to him when you’re taking him in your mouth. Jack breathes in deep through his nose and groans from his chest. “Always smell so good for me. And you taste just as good.”

You whimper and clench around nothing just as Jack surges forward and licks you cunt to clit. You flinch at the feeling, hips bucking up. The vibration of Jack’s laugh meets your clit as he sucks it into his mouth, his hands finding your hips and pinning them down. 

He teases your clit with the tip of his tongue as he sucks on it, gently rolls it between his teeth before pulling away. His tongue circles around it and then drops down, pushes inside your pussy, fucks you a few times before it figure eights back up to your clit, flicks over it rapidly before he sucks it into his mouth again. 

You’re wailing for him because you can be with your underwear muffling every cry and moan his tongue rips for you. You’re teary from the pleasure already, your whole body on fire. You never want him to stop it feels so good. Your hips struggle against Jack’s hands, trying to buck up to no avail, hands straining against the tie because you want your hands in his hair so badly, want to grip at the sheets, something, anything. 

The intense eye contact you share makes Jack’s tongue feel even better, the pleasure in the creases of his eyes and pull of his eyebrows helping get you off. There’s something about knowing how much he loves this, knowing how much he loves eating you specifically out that drives you insane, has your toes curling against his shoulders. He’d told you once, you can hear it in your head now in that low gravelly voice of his, that he was always very whatever about it, didn’t love or hate it, but would do it of course, until he met you, and now he loves it, craves it, wants to be doing it all the time, finds himself missing it at random moments during his days. 

Jack repeats his movements, groans and grunts into you as he alternates sucking and licking and tongue fucking you in different patterns right to the edge. It doesn’t take long. You’re close, already. And if he had more patience and wasn’t as painfully hard as he is he would back off, drag it out longer, edge you a bit. 

He sucks at your clit until it pops out of his mouth as he pulls his head away. “I want you to focus and feel, Doll. And keep your eyes on mine.”

You moan something that sounds like you’re trying to say ‘I am’ through your underwear. 

“No.” His voice is sharp, cuts through your pleasure haze, eyes blazing. “Focus and feel it.” You’re not sure what it means but you nod, you’ll do anything for him right now. 

Jack holds your gaze for another moment before glancing down at your cunt and sucking at your clit. He looks back up at you as he releases your clit and flicks his tongue over it with precise strokes that are just the right pressure to pull tears from your eyes because of the intensity of it all. He raises his eyebrows slightly, a reminder to focus and feel it. 

You do, ground yourself in Jack’s eyes as you look at him and focus and feel. It hits you. You take in a gasped shuddery breath, try to say ‘oh my god’ around your underwear but it just comes out as a moan and a sob. 

The strokes of his tongue against you aren’t just precise. They’re spelling out his name. He starts over when he knows you’ve got it. J a c k A b b o t M i n e M y W i f e. You’re almost hyperventilating it feels so good, is so possessive it augments the feeling of his tongue three-fold. Once he’s finished the final e of wife he starts over with a J and one hand leaves a hip. 

You’re so focused on Jack and his eyes that you don’t even see it about to happen, though you theoretically would be able to. Two fingers slide inside you, easily with how wet you are. Jack finds that spongy spot inside of you makes a rapid come hither motion and you’re gone. 

It shoves you over the edge, launches you over it really. The groans you’re pulling from Jack just from coming on his fingers as his tongue laps at you make your orgasm crash into you even harder. You knew you were close and it was going to hit you soon but it still catches you off guard. It’s blinding, you try so hard to keep your eyes open and give Jack the eye contact you know he wants, is demanding of you. But something has to give, you have to take one sense back from him. 

You sob out moans around your underwear, enjoy the freedom you have to not hold back for fear of being too loud in a hotel. You try saying his name around it, aren’t even fully conscious of it because of how fucked out of your mind you are, how little control you have over your body and mind right now. 

He starts to ease off and slows just when he needs to, right before the point of painful overstimulation. Because that’s not what he wants tonight. He just wants you to feel good. He laps at your pussy a few times to clean you up a bit and get a few last tastes of you. 

You whimper when he pulls away and stands up and looks down at you. You got so wet and so messy that almost the entire bottom half of his face is slick and shining with you. He smirks at you, licks his two fingers clean before bending down and grabbing your bra from the floor and uses the cups to wipe his face off. “You are,” it’s a little panted, “so delicious. I could do that forever. Live between your legs like that.” His words make you whimper again. 

Jack helps you sit up so he can clear the pillows away then lay you back on the bed. He walks around the side and pulls the comforter down and then moves you so that your feet and head face the side of the bed, not the headboard and end. “God, Doll.” You can hear him messing with his shirt, unbuttoning it and throwing it to the floor, undershirt joining it a second later. “I could’ve come from just that. Just fucked my fist once or twice and lost it just from the way you taste and how pretty you sound when you come even all muffled and how hard you gripped my fingers.”

You moan at that, wish that you could see him getting undressed and talking about you like that. The clinking of metal tells you he’s undoing his belt, the soft thump of fabric hitting the floor a second or so later. Both pants and boxer briefs if you had to guess. 

It’s quiet for a second until you strain and hear the softest hum of skin rubbing skin. Jack’s stroking himself slowly, eyes roaming your body intently. You whine. You want him back, want him inside you. Need him inside you. 

“Need something, Doll?” Jack asks as he climbs on the bed and up your body so that he hovers over you. You blink hard at him and try to say ‘you.’ Jack uses a hand to wipe away some of the fresh tears that slip from your eyes. “Me? Just like this? So you can see since you can’t touch or speak?” You nod quickly and repeatedly, drop your shoulders and widen your eyes to say please. “Well,” Jack starts as he pulls away from you and moves to the side of your legs, “that’s not the plan baby.”

He flips you over so that you’re on your stomach, grabs your hips and pulls them up so that you’re on your knees. Even with your hands tied together like they are you’re still able to push the front half of your body up on your elbows a little. “I just really love having you from behind sometimes, you know?” Jack moves to kneel between your legs, runs a hand through your cunt and uses it to slick his cock before sliding it between your lips and running it through you, head nudging at your clit. “Love looking at your ass.” His hands grip your cheeks, squeeze a bit roughly. 

You’ve come back down enough now that your mind is a little less hazy and you have the wherewithal to moan as you move your hips back and forth in time with his as he slides through you. Jack laughs, pinches one of your ass cheeks. “Impatient girl.” A hand presses into your lower back to still you and a second later you feel Jack’s other hand helping line himself up. “That’s okay, I’m a little impatient right now too.”

Jack slowly pushes into you, a flurry of curse words falling off his tongue as he does, a long moan from you until he bottoms out. 

“We’ve barely started planning the wedding and I’m already impatient for you to be my wife.” Jack pulls out of you, right to the tip, hand still pressing into your lower back. “Impatient for you to have my last name.”

It’s slow at first, teasing the both of you really, long, patient strokes out of you followed by easing himself back in. It’s slow until it isn’t, because Jack doesn’t slowly build up to a faster pace. He just pulls out of you slowly again but snaps his hips to get himself inside of you quickly, sets an unrelenting pace, hands finding your hips and pulling you back onto him so he can fuck you harder with every thrust. 

“You’re already mine,” Jack grunts. “So fucking mine, god!” You feel so good, are so wet and tight for him and he is so impossibly deep in you that it makes it harder for him to say what he wants, thought starts to go. “Everyone knows from the fucking rock on your finger.” He keeps fucking you at the same pace, doesn’t slow down for a second. It shakes the bed, hard, and it’s the reason he put you sideways, so the headboard didn’t keep slamming against the wall and earn you a noise complaint. “Everyone knows you belong to me. Knows you’re mine.”

You’re reduced to tears and moans by his words, struggle to keep yourself up as your whole body shakes.

“I love fucking you like this. Can get so deep, fuck you so hard.” His hands find just above your hips and he pushes down, hard, but not hard enough to hurt. It tilts your pelvis even further for him, lets him get even deeper. “Can fuck my pussy. So. Fucking. Deep.” Each word is punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips.

You sob at it at the same time Jack growls your name. He has never fucked you this deep before, has never been quite this feral. You have no idea what’s set him off like this but you’d like to know so you can keep it in your back pocket. It’s the last semi-coherent thought you have. 

His pace grows frenetic, strokes just as hard and fast but not in the same regular rhythm they had been as Jack gets further drunk off you. Jack pulls out right before he’s about to come and you sob at the loss. You don’t have much time to think about it or be sad though because he’s flipping you over and leaning over you and thrusting back inside of you in seconds. He’s still though. 

“You’ve been such a good girl,” he murmurs through a pant as he undoes the knot of the tie and unwraps your hands. “Taken it all so beautifully.” His praise makes you shiver as he removes your underwear from your mouth, makes the fire that’s taken over your body burn even hotter.

His hands take yours carefully and he kisses at some of the indented marks left by the tie before rubbing each hand and wrist out for a second. He wipes at your mouth after, helps remove the saliva that’s dripped out from having the gag in. You’re panting hard, punctuated by hiccupped breaths from your tears. “So good for me.” His thumb brushes over your lip and then he leans down and kisses you, presses his body into yours and slowly raises his hips to pull himself out of you. 

Your hands run up his neck and tangle in his hair. The relief that feeling the unfairly silky strands against your hands brings you is almost comical. It’s just his hair. Just running your hands through his hair. The kiss isn’t as long as either of you would like since you’re both panting pretty hard, already out of breath. “I mean it you know.” He nods, pushing back in slowly, just like he had earlier. “I can’t wait for you to be my wife.” 

“I know.” Your voice is raw. “I can’t wait to be your wife.” 

“Good,” Jack murmurs, presses another soft kiss to your lips. “I have a promise to keep.”

He’s straightening up and throwing your legs over his shoulders before you can process his words and try to think about what promise he’s talking about. And then Jack’s right back to fucking you. Hard. With a kind of nearly reckless abandon that’s driven by sheer need. 

“Jack!” You tug his hair hard and it just spurs him on, makes his hips move faster somehow. “Oh fuck, I’m, it’s too, you’re too…” You shake your head a little, don’t even know what you’re trying to say, “Please. Please.”

“Please what?” Jack pants out as he leans into you further, rolls your hips up more so he can get even deeper. “What Doll? Please what?”

“Any, anything!” You’re lost in the sensation of him. He’s all you have, all that exists to you right now. “I, I.” A little moaned sob leaves you as you give up trying, let your eyes flutter closed. 

Jack laughs darkly. “You’re so fucking-” Jack has to stop to groan when you somehow find it in you to rock your hips in time with him. He doesn’t remember what he was going to say. “Mine,” he growls at your ear. “You’re fucking mine.” Jack slips his hands below your shoulders, rests on his elbows and curls his fingers in your hair. He uses it as leverage to push you down onto him so he can fuck you even harder. He’s got you nearly pressed in half, your hips tilted so far up he’s snapping his hips and fucking nearly straight down into you. “Look at me.” 

“Jack, I, I, I can’t,” you stutter through a moan. “Can’t, I can’t.”

“Yes the fuck you can,” he growls. “I know you fucking can, Doll.” You force your eyes open, Jack coming into focus as your tears clear enough to really see him. You’re glad he made you open them because fuck does he look good. Jack is feral and possessive in a way you haven’t seen before and is fucking you harder than he ever has before and is somehow even deeper than in your last position. A few sweaty curls stick to his forehead, eyes absolutely wild, blown so wide you’d struggle to tell what color his irises are if you didn’t already know. His flushed face and neck are strained, veins more prominent than usual. 

And Jack is looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists to him in this moment. Like he’s so attracted to you that he can’t get enough of you. Like fucking you is a privilege. Like he needs you so bad it hurts. Like he’ll never have enough of you. Like he knows you’re his in every sense of the word. Like he knows how good he’s fucking you, cocky and proud.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs at you, all gravel and rasp. Every thrust steals your breath as it sends another wave of pleasure through you. It’s dizzying, how he’s making you feel physically and emotionally. He always makes you feel so wanted but it’s even more heightened right now. He’s desperate for you. You’re the only thing on his mind. “Whose are you?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to find the word, panting out small sobs until it mercifully runs through your mind. “Y-yours Jack,” you cry, “yours!”

“That’s fucking right,” he growls again, leans his head into your neck and sucks hard. “And.” it’s harder for him to get words out too. Jack’s just as pussy drunk as you are cock drunk. “What are you gonna fu-fucking be?”

Your hands slide from his hair down to the side of his neck and back. Jack loves the sharp pain it brings, somewhere some part of him knows he’ll have scratch marks and bruises tomorrow. You’re a panting, sweaty mess beneath him. “I…” You’re so far gone you hardly know how to begin to even try to think to find the word. 

He sucks at your neck one last time and pulls back up. You haven’t answered him. “Eyes back on me,” he orders. You comply, eyes opening to find his again. “What’re you-” Jack groans as you squeeze him even tighter. “Fucking christ you’re so good, feel so fuckin’ good!” Jack’s derailed for a moment by his pleasure, the pleasure you’re giving him. But the promise comes back to him. “What’re you gonna be?” 

You’re all whimpers and whines as you open and close your mouth as you look for the word. Jack chuckles darkly. He starts to mouth the word at you and it hits. 

“Wife,” you moan, at the pleasure you’re feeling and the thought. “Your wife!”

“Fuck!” Jack snaps his hips even harder when you say it. He loves hearing you say it. “That’s right. My wife. My fucking wife. My fucking wife with her perfect fucking pussy that’s mine. You are fucking mine.” Jack starts to babble as he gets closer and closer. “Anything else to say Doll?” he chokes out through heavy pants. 

You shake your head, let out a sob. You need this. Need him, need to come, need to feel him come. “Jack!” Your nails dig into his back and neck. “Jack!” you moan again. It’s the only word your brain can come up with unprompted. 

“Good,” he grunts, panting hard as he shifts and slides a hand between you, circles at your clit. He doesn’t even mean to pull it from you that fast but you’re so close and so far fucking gone that it’s just a few swipes of his fingers and you’re coming, the pleasure searing every nerve. 

You’ll look back and know that it’s easily the hardest you’ve ever come, easily. You’re rendered totally breathless, completely lost to the pleasure flooding you. Jack’s right behind you, his orgasm catching him just as off guard as yours caught you. You get so tight around him, sound so beautiful in the seconds before you come and force yourself to keep your eyes open and look at him, teary and fucked out and like you know you belong to him, that he’s slamming into you, pulling his hand from your clit and grinding himself against you as he tries to prolong his release and yours. 

There are no words for either of you, both of you rendered completely speechless by the intensity of the orgasms ripping through you. Jack gets his voice back first, an absolutely strangled groan of your name from somewhere deep in his chest. It has to be one of the most erotic sounds you’ve ever heard him make. Your voice comes back shortly after, as do your tears because you are still so overwhelmed with pleasure and feelings and Jack. You moan his name over and over. 

Jack collapses on you carefully, so that his head is at your chest and your torso isn’t completely covered by his making it harder to breathe. He’s shaking just as badly as you are, both of your bodies have no idea what to do with all the pleasure. You’re both panting hard, still a bit lost in your minds to it. You trade off moaned and groaned fucks and oh gods and I love yous and each other’s names as you come back down, occasional aftershocks hitting you both and making you whine. He kisses at your chest wherever his lips happen to reach. 

Jack’s forcing himself to get back quicker. He has the instinctive drive to take care of you. You need him. That was a lot to take and you were properly sobbing. “Okay,” he finally pants out minutes later. “You are so fucking good, fuck me. You feel so good.” He pushes himself up so that he can lean down and give you some soft kisses to your lips and also your face, the bruise he sucked into your neck, your collarbones, the top of your breasts. “My good girl. So perfect and beautiful for me.” He gives you a few more kisses and then he forces himself to roll off you. 

“Jack?” you whimper. You miss him already, miss his body weight helping calm your shakes and his warmth and his smell. You’d stopped sobbing and Jack doesn’t want you to get teary again.

“Shh,” he soothes you, “it’s okay, I’m right here.” Jack sits up and pulls you into his arms before grabbing the comforter and sliding you both up the bed so he can hold you as he reclines on the headboard. You curl into his chest once he’s settled and strong arms pull the comforter over the both of you before slipping under it and wrapping around you tightly, putting pressure on you to help with the shakes. His are almost gone now. “You did so fucking well,” he murmurs through softening pants. “I love you.” He kisses the top of your head. “You were so good, I’m so proud of you.” 

“I love you too,” you murmur, absolutely fucking glowing in his arms at the praise, smiling to yourself as you nuzzle his chest. If his arms weren’t wrapped so tightly around your body you think you’d be floating away from how good you feel.

Jack shifts, grabs a bottle of water from the nightstand and opens it. “Water, yeah? Please.” 

You whine at his request, but this one is playful, you’re back with him. “Don’t wanna move.” 

Jack laughs softly. “You barely have to, just lift your head a little, okay?” You huff a little but do as he asks and he holds the water for you, tips it carefully so that it doesn’t flow too fast for you and pulls away when you start to pull back. “Thank you Doll.” 

“Thank you,” you hum at him in response, settle your head back on his chest. “You’re so fucking good too, you know. I hope you know. I’ve never been fucked the way you fuck me.”

“Always. And I do know. Believe me, you make sure I fucking know.” Jack takes a couple of sips of his own before recapping the bottle and setting it on the table again. He holds you tight again, kisses the top of your head every now and then. “You doing okay, Doll?” 

“So, so much more than okay.” You realize with how raw your voice is and how you’re still shaking a little it’s not very reassuring. “My body just,” you take in a deep breath, “doesn’t know what to do, but I feel good. I feel amazing. That was so fucking good Jack, you felt so fucking good, made me feel so fucking good. I feel like I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have just gotten fucked like that.” You sigh so dreamily it makes you giggle. 

“Good,” he murmurs, chuckles just a little from your last sentence and your giggles. He knows you’re okay and relaxes. “We’ll take a bath in a few minutes, yeah? You can go to the bathroom, have some more water for me. Maybe have a snack. And then I’ll massage you out a little, once we’re out of the bath, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that.” You kiss his chest because he’s the sweetest. 

“I do. I always need to take care of you after regardless of how hard or soft it is. But more than that I always want to, okay?” Jack kisses the top of your head. 

“I know. And I want to take care of you too.” You run a hand through his sweat damp curls, scratch at his scalp. Your shaking has stopped now. 

Jack’s head leans into your hand on instinct because of how good it feels. “You always do,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. “I love you Doll.”

“I love you too Peter.” He can feel your smile against his chest. “Kinda sleepy.” 

Jack lets out a little laugh through his nose. “I’m sure you are. I am too. Let’s get you into the bathroom, yeah? You can pee while I start the bath and then once we’re in you can even doze on me a bit if you want okay?” 

“Yeah.” You nod a little and take in a deep breath before moving with Jack so that you’re both properly sitting up. 

He stands up and holds his hands out for you. You’re so blissed out you don’t even realize he’d left his prosthetic on. “Ready?” 

“Ready.” You grab his hands as you push off the bed and wow can you feel the soreness and stiffness already. And that’s on top of how your legs feel weak and shaky right now from how thoroughly you’ve just been fucked. You let out the softest groan of pain.

Jack catches it immediately, wraps his arm around you to help support you. “You okay?” You look up at Jack and nod, give him a smile. Because you are. You fucking love it. Love this feeling and how he takes care of you and lets you take care of him in the bath. Jack helps you into the bathroom and to the toilet while he starts the bath. 

As always, he pours in a copious amount of bubble bath gel. You’d told him once that bubble baths were your favorite and so he always tries to make sure there’s something for you. Bubbles or a bath bomb, you’d mentioned liking those once. This is the upscale expensive brand bubble bath that the hotel provides. You both enjoy the way it smells. 

“Peter?” you call to him from the small separate area where the toilet is. 

“What’s up? You okay?” Jack’s already moving towards you. 

“Can we have bubbles?” You support yourself on the wall and stand and flush as he comes into view. “I forgot to ask.” 

Jack gets an arm around you to help support you and smiles, kissing and nipping at the tip of your nose just so he can hear your fucked-out, sleepy laugh again. “You’ve got bubbles already waiting for you, Doll. You never need to ask. I’ve got you.”

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

It’s the day of your third anniversary. 

You and Jack didn’t abide by the whole not seeing each other or sleeping in the same bed the night before your wedding thing. You stir awake curled against Jack’s chest, nuzzling into him and intertwining your legs further as you settle back against his chest, not ready to fully wake up and open your eyes to the world. Jack’s hands start to rub up and down your back and you feel the vibrations of his low chuckle in his chest more than you hear it. 

“I think it’s time to get up, sleepy girl,” Jack hums at you. 

You shake your head against him lazily. “Don’t wanna leave this. You.”

Your voice is so sleepy and adorable Jack can hardly stand it. “You know what today is?”

“Mm,” you hum at him, make no effort to pull yourself further awake. “Saturday.” Jack scoffs a laugh and rolls his eyes affectionately even though you can’t see. You smile against his chest as he shakes his head. “Am I wrong?” 

“No,” Jack concedes, gives your ass a little pinch. That makes you jolt in his arms and yelp, not because it hurt because it surprised you. “But that’s not what I was looking for.”

“I can’t believe you just pinched my ass to wake me up on the morning of our third anniversary and wedding!” You don’t move an inch and Jack gets the answers he was looking for.

“I did not!” Jack huffs with a laugh. “You were already awake when I pinched you!” 

“The pedantism I’m facing at this hour of the morning is unreal,” you sigh dramatically. 

“Oh that was hardly pedantic, and you know it.” 

“I know no such thing. But,” you pause for effect and to kiss at Jack’s collarbone, nibble at it just a little. The reaction from him is immediate, hips canting just slightly against yours. You’ve felt how hard he’s been this entire time. “I do know that if we stop debating it you’ll have enough time to fuck me one last time as your fiancée. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

Jack’s already rolling you onto your back before you even finish the word fiancée. “Say it again.” His voice is lower than normal, more grit to it than usual even for mornings. The thought is too much. He knew it of course, you kind of half did last night just in case you wouldn’t have time this morning but still. 

“Fuck me one last time as your fiancée Jack.” Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at the salt and pepper curls that are just a centimeter or so longer than when you met as Jack starts kissing at your neck, just kisses, just uses his lips to tease you and grinds up against you. “Fuck me one last time with this last name.” Jack stills at that. Obviously he knew your last name was changing but until you said it he hadn’t thought about it in this context. It makes him a little more feral somehow. He lifts his head from your neck and gazes down at you, eyes blown wide and panting a little. You can tell from his gaze that he’s about to, that he’s already there and thinking of ways he can go hard without risking marking you or making you unable to walk or making you cry and risk swollen eyes. 

“Jack,” you moan his name softly as you roll your hips as he grinds against you. “Fuck me one last time before my last name is Abbot.”

And so he does. 

Jack stands in front of his dress blues where they hang waiting for him to put them on. It’s hard not to think about it, about the last time he saw himself wearing these. At your funeral. And yes, it was just a nightmare, but still. He can’t help the little pang that hits him. You could have died. He’s so aware of it. He could be standing in front of them trying to force himself to get in them so he could get to your funeral. You could have died.

But you didn’t. You’re alive and off in your own room getting your hair and makeup done, slipping into your wedding dress. The thought makes him smile. Jack is wearing his dress blues to marry you, to start a new chapter with you, not to say goodbye to you. 

“You good?” Robby walks in before Jack can fully pull himself out of it. 

“Yeah,” Jack nods. “I’m more than good. I’m marrying her today.” Robby doesn’t say anything, waits to see if Jack has more to say. “In that nightmare, of her funeral, I wore my dress blues. And Michael, she is so fucking good and imperfectly perfect and so herself and she loves me so fucking much, with this intensity that I’m not sure I deserve that it feels like it’s too good to be true somedays, like she’s too good. Like this life with her is the dream and that nightmare is reality and I’m going to wake up any second in your guest bedroom without her and be back in that nightmare.”

Robby nods slowly, takes in a breath as he thinks. “Well,” he draws the word out in contemplation. “I can promise you this isn’t a dream Jack. You’re not waking up from this to the nightmare that life without her would be for you.”

“I know. And I don’t want to seem sad, because I’m not, I’m so far away from sad.” Jack pauses, gets a little quieter. “She’s everything, Michael. She’s the only thing I’ll ever need. And I’m marrying her today and it’s so fucking cliché but it feels too good to be true because what could I have ever done in any lifetime, let alone this one, to deserve her?” 

“I don’t think you’re sad Jack. I think you’re in love and about to get married and with everything you guys have been through I can understand why it’d throw you for a second.” Robby walks in the room a little closer to Jack and leans his back against the wall the closet is on so he can see Jack’s face. “But I know for a fact that she’s getting ready right now thinking, for reasons I may never personally understand,” he lets out a small laugh which Jack preemptively rolls his eyes at, “the same about you. That you’re too good to be true. That life with you is a dream or too good to be true. And knowing her how I do now, I’d be willing to hazard a guess that she’s probably not sure what she did to deserve you either, not sure she deserves you.” 

Jack finally pulls his eyes from his dress blues to look over at Robby. He doesn’t say anything though, voice just a little too thick with emotion. 

“And to that I have two things to say. One,” he holds out a finger of his left hand horizontally in front of him and wraps his right hand around it, “I love you both dearly, I really do, but you are both fucking idiots for thinking you don’t deserve each other and your love. And two,” he moves his right hand off his one finger and holds out a second that his right hand then wraps back around, “you do deserve each other and each other’s love. Why is she worthy of your love, but you’re not worthy of hers?” It’s a rhetorical question. “Because Jack, you say she’s everything and I know she is, I believe you. I see the way you look at her and hear the way you talk about her. But you are everything to her in the same way, the same capacity. She looks at you the same way, talks about you the same way. The way that you love her and feel about her and the intensity of your love for her, is exactly the same as how she loves you and feels about you and the intensity of her love for you.” Robby shakes his head a little and takes in a big breath before letting it out. “And she deserves you and your love, right?” Jack nods. “Well Jack, you deserve her love. And I think that today, on the day of your wedding, would be a really good day to let yourself accept that. That you deserve her and her love and to be loved at the same intensity with which you love her.”

It’s quiet as the two look at each other. Robby’s words hit Jack hard. He’s right. Jack hates admitting it but he’s right. All he can do is nod at Robby who gives him a little smile in return. After a second Jack clears his throat. “God Michael, our therapist is really rubbing off on you. How often are you seeing him? You thinking about leaving me to go become a psychologist?”

“Ha!” Robby laughs. He knows by the use of his real name that Jack’s thanking him in the only way he can right now. “He’s got jokes.”

Jack laughs with him but grows a little more serious. “Are you going to give her the same spiel?

Robby nods. “I can go right now and do it, see her in her-”

“No! Do not!” Jack cuts him off, Robby smirking and laughing. “You can talk to her through the door. Or have a dance with her or something later.”

“Whatever you want, brother. Get dressed.” Robby squeezes Jack’s shoulder as he walks by to step out of the room.  

Jack lingers on his hanging dress blues for just another second before taking them down and getting into them. Robby walks back in once he has his shirt and pants on, jacket still hanging. “For you.” Robby hands him a decently sized small box. 

“Aw, Robby, you shouldn’t have,” Jack teases him. 

Robby snorts. “I didn’t.” 

Jack’s eyebrows raise at that and he opens the box. Inside is another box, a recognizable box and in that box is a watch. He finds a small note. So you can’t be late to our forever. ;) I love you more, Doll. Jack lets out a little laugh to himself, shakes his head. He sets the boxes on the dresser in front of him and takes the watch out, puts it on. It fits perfectly without needing any links removed or added and he’s sure it’s because you measured his wrist during the night or when he fell asleep on the couch at some point. 

“Ready?” Robby is holding Jack’s coat open for him. Jack nods and slips it on, stands in front of the mirror while he buttons it to check it all looks okay. He makes sure to slide two handkerchiefs into one of his pockets. “I have the rings.” Robby touches where his inside pocket is. There’s a knock on the door. “I think that’s my cue.” Robby walks over to Jack and they share a hug. “I’m so happy for you Jack. I’ll send her in, yeah?” Jack nods and Robby starts walking over to the door. 

Not far away you’re in your own room getting ready. Even though you and Jack had decided not to have a bridal party, your dress shopping party is there with you, getting hair and makeup done too as they prefer, just for the experience and fun. 

Once you’re done you sit around chatting as Heather, Dana, Mel and your friend get theirs done. You laugh at something Dana says as Mel walks up and sits next to you. “I have something for you.” She hands you a box that’s six or seven inches in length, not overly thick. 

You take the box from her and smile. “Thank you Mel, that’s so sweet of you.” 

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not from me.” You furrow your brows at her and give her a confused smile. “I think you should open it.” 

You give her one last confused look and then unwrap the box. It has a note on top. Something new. Love you more, Peter. You shake your head as you smile to yourself. You remember him asking on the way to your bridal shower. You hadn’t thought much of it since then, but had a moment or two where you kind of wished you could. At least now you’ll have one of the four. You set the note aside and open the box. “Oh my god, Jack,” you whisper to yourself as you take in the diamond tennis bracelet. The metal matches that of your engagement and wedding rings, diamonds the perfect shape. 

“Wow,” Mel laughs a little stunned as she takes in the bracelet with you. “It’s beautiful. Very sparkly.” 

“I love sparkly,” you murmur to yourself as you nod slowly, still a little stunned. You’re not surprised by it in the sense that it’s a very Jack thing to do, you’re just still in disbelief sometimes that you found Jack, think you probably don’t deserve someone as good as him. He did this for you. Got this for you. Just because he wanted to. 

“Want me to put it on?” Mel asks.

You glance up at Mel at her words. It takes a moment for them to process and then you nod. “Please.” She takes it carefully from the box and you hold your wrist up for her. She brings it over and gets it clasped and you shake your wrist a little to get it to settle. “Fuck,” you breathe out. It’s even more stunning on. 

“Yeah, I’ll say.” Heather smirks as she comes closer to take a look, Dana and your friend following. You all spend too long looking at it before you settle back in. 

Your friend is the next one to come sit by you. She hands you a box that’s a little bigger than a necklace box. “This one is not from your almost husband. It’s from me.” She raises her eyebrows at you and gives you a little smirk as you start to open it. Inside is the garter she’d helped you pick out one day, only in a light shade of blue. “Something blue.” 

“Thank you,” you tell her with a slightly trembling voice. You know she hand dyed it for you, took that time out of her busy schedule to do that for you. “It’s even more beautiful in blue,” you laugh. Your laugh draws attention and you quickly hold it up. “Pretty blue garter,” the three who work with Jack collectively make noises of fake disgust and gagging, “mhm, yep, that’s what I thought.” You all share a laugh. 

You smile at Heather when she comes to sit by you. “Old or borrowed?” You ask with a smirk and raised brows. 

She’s smiling as she offers you what is a necklace box. “I’m not sure if it really counts as old,” she says as you open it, “so I have a backup just in case.” You raise your brows at her as you take the lid off. Inside is a larger cameo locket with a humming bird on it. It’s beautiful in its simplicity. “Open it. Also I didn’t envision you wearing it, I thought maybe you could wrap the chain around your bouquet, have the locket in the front or back depending on what you think.” 

You carefully take it out of the box and open it. Inside is a locket sized photo of you and Jack. “Oh my god,” you whisper. “That’s the first photo Jack and I ever took together.” You look up at Heather glassy eyed. “How?”

“Remember when we went to that cocktail bar a month or so ago and I happened to bring up photos in conversation and steered it towards first photos of all the couples. You showed me your guys’ while Dana was showing you the one of her and her husband she’d taken a picture of on her phone. I was able to air drop it to myself before giving your phone back. I took a little advantage of you being a little tipsy.” She shrugs, but you both laugh. You’re back to looking at the photo of you and Jack, running your finger down the edge of the locket. “I found the locket itself at an antique store. Hummingbirds are a symbol of resilience because of how resilient they are. And with everything that you guys have already survived together, resilience felt right for the two of you.” 

“Heather,” you breathe shakily, as you look back to her, lips pressed in a line but pulled up in a smile that says you’re trying not to cry. “This is incredible. Thank you.”

“That’s so fuckin sweet,” Dana dabs at her eyes. It’s then you realize her, Mel and your friend have gotten close. You pass the locket around so they can all see the photo. “You’re making us all look bad Heather!”

Heather laughs and shrugs. “Idea just came to me.” You smile at her again and reach out and squeeze her hand, nodding at her in thanks again. 

“Well, I suppose cat’s outta the bag that I’m borrowed.” Dana walks over to her purse and grabs a small ring box from it and hands it to you. You open it to reveal a beautiful art deco style ring inlaid with diamonds. “I know it’s a very particular style, but that ring has been worn by every Evans woman who has gotten married for the last hundred and two years. Not a single divorce.” 

“Oh Dana, it’s beautiful.” You look up at her. “But I’m not an Evans and I wouldn’t want to risk messing up it’s ma-” 

“No.” Dana cuts you off with a ‘please’ look. “None of that bullshit. You are an Evans. So is Jack. Even if not in name.” You look back down at the ring and then up at her, round eyes and eyebrows slightly furrowed, a silent ‘really?’ “I brought ring sizers just in case it doesn’t fit on a finger on your right hand. We can make it work.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper when she gets closer, swallowing thickly. “It means more than you know.” Dana doesn’t say anything back, just smiles as she helps you try on the ring. It fits perfectly on your right ring finger, your engagement ring sitting above it for now until after the ceremony. Once you have the ring on and the locket around your bouquet, you set your garter on the bed to put on before your dress. “There we go. Something old something new something borrowed something blue. He made it happen. That man.” You laugh a little to yourself as do the others. 

“So,” Mel clears her throat, “the rhyme actually ends with ‘and a sixpence in her shoe.’ I wasn’t really sure if you’d want to do that or if someone else would get one, so I got one just in case. It goes in the left shoe” Mel holds it up. “I brought some quick set epoxy if you wanted to glue it to the bottom of your shoe if it’s heeled and has a spot that won’t hit the ground, or it has a small hole and can become like a charm or even get sewn onto the shoe. Or you can put it somewhere else. If you want.” She smiles at you. “But totally cool if you don’t.” 

“No no, we have to have the full rhyme!” You cock your head at her and smile. “It’s perfect Mel. Thank you so much.” You walk over and grab your shoes. “Help me get it on my left shoe somewhere?” Mel nods and the two of you step over to the desk to survey your options and decide how best to do it while everyone else finishes up. “Thank you Mel. I would have been so annoyed if I found out we didn’t do the entire thing after,” you laugh. 

“I thought you might be,” she laughs with you. “I’m glad it worked out.” By the time you and Mel turn back to the group everyone is finished with hair and makeup.

“All right, we’ll head out and let you get dressed.” Heather gives you a knowing smile and walks over to hug you tight, followed by Mel and your friend, each of them congratulating you and saying how happy they are for you and Jack before walking out.

The door closes and it’s just you and Dana now. She was the only one who went to any of your fittings with you, so she’s the only one to see you in the dress with it fitted properly. It doesn’t take long to get you in it, all things considered, and your accessories don’t take too long either. 

Dana steps back to survey you for a few seconds before you turn to look at yourself in the mirror. The dress still makes you feel like it did when you first bought it. It makes you feel good, makes you feel how Jack makes you feel when he looks at you. Special and beautiful. And this is it. You’re in your dress for real this time. All of your accessories on, hair and makeup done, shoes on. You’re going to go walk down the aisle to Jack in not more than ten minutes.   

“You look beautiful, kid.” Dana’s eyes are a little glassy as you look at each other through the mirror. “I’m really happy for you guys. You are so so good for him. I’ve never seen him so happy, and I’ve known him a long time.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, giving her a tight smile and tilting your head back a little trying to stop any tears from forming. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to cry yet.” 

Dana laughs. “It’s okay. If you’re all good I’m going to head to my seat.”

You nod. “Thank you. I mean it Dana. We’re lucky to have you.” She gives you one of her smiles and nods, goes to turn. “You should go see Jack. Before you sit down.” Dana’s eyebrows furrow as she turns back to look at you. “Promise me you’ll go.” Her eyes narrow in suspicion a little but she nods and walks out. 

She knocks when she reaches Jack’s room. “There you are.” Robby smiles at her as he opens the door. “You look very lovely.”

Dana gives him a suspicious look. “Thanks. You don’t clean up top bad yourself Cap. Is there a reason I’m here?”

Robby nods and she walks in the room. “He’ll explain. I’ll see you out there.” He gives her a last smile before exiting the room, the door closing behind him. 

“Jack?” Dana calls out as she moves further in the room. He smiles at her as he walks out from the bathroom, fully dressed and ready. “Wow,” Dana lets out a low whistle. “Aren’t you a sight?” She walks over to him and gives him a hug, a kiss on the cheek. 

“You look pretty damn good yourself,” Jack tells her.

She waves him off. “You look very handsome. She’s gonna cry. And you’re definitely gonna cry when you see her.” She rubs in that she’s seen you just a little, earns the smallest eye roll from Jack. “You need something? Your bride got all mysterious on me, ‘promise me you’ll go see Jack’ and then Robby answers the door grinning like an idiot and offering no explanations.”

Jack shrugs at her, smiling like he knows something she doesn’t and that’s going to make her react. “I need someone to walk me down the aisle.” 

Dana’s head lolls forward a little, eyebrows raising as she stares at Jack. “I thought you guys weren’t doing that.”

Jack shakes his head. “She decided not to have anyone walk her down the aisle. I never decided I wouldn’t have anyone.” Dana’s still looking at him in disbelief. “I want someone to. And who better to do so than the second most important woman in my life?” Dana’s eyes get watery and she cocks her head at Jack, silent because she’ll cry if she tries to speak. “You know I mean that and that it’s true,” Jack tells her softly. 

Dana nods at him. “Jack, I…” She fans at her face and grabs a tissue from the nearby box, dabs at her eyes. “You’re pretty important to me too, you know that?” She whispers as she wraps him in another hug. He laughs softly and nods. “I’m so happy for you Jack. For both of you. She’s everything you’ve ever deserved. I’m so glad you found your one.” Dana sniffles and finishes wiping at her eyes. “I’d be very proud to walk you down the aisle.” 

Jack offers Dana his arm and she takes it, the two of them leaving the room and heading to the ceremony space. Robby is waiting for them in the staging space that’s hidden off to the side of the top of the aisle. The three share a look and Robby cues who he needs to so that the music starts. 

Robby walks down first, takes his place at the top of the altar facing the audience, padfolio with his notes in hand. The music changes slightly and Dana and Jack start walking down the aisle. The change in the music is also your cue to wait ten seconds or so and then go to the staging area yourself and wait for your music to hit. 

There are murmurs of approval and appreciation and hums of aw as Dana and Jack walk down the aisle. The only people who have seen Jack in his dress blues before are those who were in his unit. For everyone else, your friends, all of the Pitt family, it’s the first time. He looks good in them, of that there is no question. 

When they hit the end of the aisle Dana rests her cheek against Jack’s and gives him a little cheek kiss as they hug again. “I’m so proud of you Jack. And so, so happy for you,” she whispers to him. “You deserve this, yeah. The both of you do.” 

“Thank you, Dana.” Jack rubs her back a little. “You have no idea how much we appreciate you and everything you’ve done for us. And for me over the years.” 

She nods at him as she pulls away and takes her seat right on the aisle of one side of the front row. Jack walks up the altar and shares a handshake and quick hug with Robby before he settles just in front of him, turning to face the top of the aisle. 

Jack looks around at everyone who came. The ceremony space is completely full. It’s small, but big enough, an intimate ceremony of just you and your closest friends and family. Neither of you wanted something huge. All of Jack’s unit minus one are there with their significant others if they have one, your friend and a few of your closest work friends and what feels like most of the Pitt and their significant others where applicable, plus Dana’s kids, Langdon’s kids, Harrison, Becca and Jake. 

In his mind he notes that it feels like entire damn department is here and he can’t help but wonder who the fuck is staffing it right now. Jack is actually able to smile to himself at the thought despite the small pang. He thought the same exact thing to himself in that nightmare. But this time while it still doesn’t really matter and he doesn’t really care because he’s here with you getting married, he will be going back to that hospital. He lets himself wonder about it more, wonder if Robby somehow pulled off getting nearly an entire moonlighter crew so everyone could be here. 

Jack can’t believe it’s finally time, that he finally gets to see you in your wedding dress and marry you. His heart races and he breathes a little faster and harder in anticipation. He’s sure that if he didn’t have one hand clasping the back of the other and hanging down in front of him they’d be shaking.  

Your photographers get into position so that photos can be captured of both you and Jack seeing each other for the first time. They stay as inconspicuous and as out of the way as possible. 

In the staging area at the top of the aisle your heart is racing just as fast as Jack’s if not a little faster because you still have to walk down the aisle, by yourself, with all eyes on you and not trip or fall or otherwise stumble. And you can’t help the thought of what if he hates my dress from running around your brain. Your bouquet shakes as you hold it with one hand, smooth out your dress with the other as you wait for the music. 

You force yourself to take a couple of deep breaths and pull it together. You know really the anxiety is more eagerness than anything. You just want to be married already, want to be kissing Jack and in his arms and crying about how much you love him. You can’t believe the day is finally here. You remember you get to see him in his dress blues for the first time now and it helps you focus and smile.

The music you’ve chosen to walk down the aisle to starts and you hear Robby ask everyone to stand. You hold your bouquet with both hands low in front of you and take in one last deep breath before you round the corner and hit the top of the aisle. 

Seeing each other for the first time is quickly etched into your memories. Neither of you will ever forget the moment, forget the way you struggled to breathe for a second or how everything and everyone else seemed to fade away. 

Jack’s breath catches in his throat when he sees you, a beaming smile pulling on his face and tears hitting him immediately. “Oh my god,” he breathes out quietly for only Robby to hear as he shakes his head at you a little in disbelief, his first tears of the ceremony starting to stream down his face. 

While everyone is looking at you Jack brings a hand up to his heart and lays it flat over it for a second before closing it into a fist and nodding at you a little. He grabs one of the handkerchiefs from his pocket to wipe at his tears as Robby squeezes his shoulder silently. 

Jack tried to imagine your dress, what it would look like, what you would look like in it and he never got anywhere close. You look perfect in it, more beautiful and stunning than Jack could have ever hoped to imagine. Your dress fits you perfectly, both in fit and in personality. It matches you, your personality and energy, complements your natural beauty without overtaking you. The dress, while gorgeous, isn’t the focus. The focus is you, just as it should be, he thinks. 

You’re a vision as you walk towards him, radiant and ethereal and breathtaking. And somehow you’re his. His girl, his woman. You’re about to be his wife and Jack doesn’t know how he got so fucking lucky. He sniffles as more tears fall that he was to wipe away. 

You have to remind yourself to breathe as you start walking, because Jack steals all the air from you as soon as you look at him. Your eyes glance at the path in front of you and then back to him because you just can’t look anywhere else. You suddenly don’t care if you trip or stumble or fall because you weren’t looking where you were walking, taking in Jack, looking at him and returning his gaze is worth the risk. You return his beaming smile, your eyes tearing up just as his do. 

He’s so handsome. He always is but him in his dress blues on your wedding day is a different type of handsome. He almost looks regal in a sense with how perfectly they fit him and how sharply pressed they are, highlighting his chiseled features. He’s breathtaking, truly. And somehow he’s yours. Your man, your Jack. He’s about to be your husband. The thought makes you laugh to yourself a little as your first tears of the ceremony spill over and onto your cheeks. 

Jack looks at you like you’re the last sight he ever needs to see to die a happy man as you walk towards him, like you’re the only thing that exists in the world right now and the most precious and beautiful thing that exists. Because you are. And you look at him the exact same way, like you’re walking towards your future and the only thing that matters. Because he is. 

The two of you beam at each other even harder as you walk closer and closer to him. Your eyes roam each other more the closer you get, just for a few seconds to take in more details before you look back into the other’s eyes. 

As you reach the end of the aisle you slip your bouquet to Dana and take the hand Jack offers you. “Please be seated.” Robby nods at the audience. 

“Worth the wait I hope?” you whisper to Jack as you stand across from him and face him, voice trembling and more tears sliding down your face.

“You’re,” Jack shakes his head, struggling to come up with any words that could even begin to describe how stunning you look right now. He has to settle for simple. “You’re beautiful, Doll.” You know what he means, know that beautiful means what it always does but that there’s an extra indescribable edge to it right now. You know because it’s how you feel about him. “Gorgeous. There aren’t words,” he whispers to you. 

“That’s how I feel, there aren’t words for you either.” The smile you give him is a little trembly as a fresh wave of overwhelming love hits you. “You’re so handsome, Jack. Unfairly so.” And just like beautiful, handsome also has that edge that Jack recognizes. 

He laughs a little and then Jack can’t help himself. He captures your chin with his thumb and index finger and leans in, steals a kiss from you. It’s your last kiss before you’re married.

“You skipped a couple of steps there, brother,” Robby teases Jack as the two of you settle back in your respective positions facing each other, eliciting a soft laugh from the audience. 

You hold one of Jack’s hands and use the other to wipe at the tears on your face, a mix of yours and Jack’s now. Jack drops your hand for a moment to switch his handkerchief to his other hand so he can reach into his pocket and pull out the second handkerchief. 

It makes you laugh when you take it from him, more tears slip down your face. “Always so prepared.”

“I try.” He smiles at you and wipes away more of his own tears as you do the same before you grab each other’s hands again, one pair of hands less held than the other as you both hang onto handkerchiefs. 

You both know there’s going to be a lot of tears during this ceremony for the two of you and that getting your vows out is going to be difficult. Everyone knows it. Because it’s not just that this is your wedding and you’re so in love and finally getting married. It’s because it almost didn’t happen. Because you’re both so acutely aware of how precious time and your love is. Because Jack was almost planning your funeral and not helping you plan your wedding.  

“Are we all ready now?” Robby smiles, asking not just you and Jack but also your guests. It pulls laughs, and excited calls of yes and it’s about time and finally. It’s perfect, it’s the atmosphere you and Jack wanted. You didn’t want stuffy or overly formal. You wanted it to reflect the two of you and Robby’s question has set the perfect tone. 

“More than,” you laugh softly, squeezing Jack’s hands. 

“More than,” Jack agrees, beaming at you and laughing a little as he returns your squeeze. 

“Great! Well, welcome everybody to what I know will be an emotional but incredibly joyous and fun wedding. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Robby, or Michael, when Jack is mad at me, and I’m their favorite third wheel.” Robby gives a self-satisfied smile as he says it, and you, Jack and the audience all laugh. It’s true. 

“Their love story has not been the easiest. Before they were even engaged they faced challenges most couples, married or otherwise, never have to. And hopefully they’ll never have to again. I also want to say quickly that I got their permission to talk about what happened. I'm not just up here bringing up one of the most traumatic and difficult times of both of their lives individually and their life as a couple.” There’s more laughter from everyone at that. 

As much as you and Jack truly are paying attention to what Robby says, your eyes aren’t coming off one another. For the most part it’s all eye contact, just how Jack loves, but sometimes you both let your eyes wander to take in the other more, you eyes dragging down Jack to appreciate him in his dress blues again and his roaming you to take in you in your dress and every detail of it. 

“God knows they’ve had too much practice but something that stands out about their love to me is their ability to weather their worst days together. It’s one thing to stand next to each other and survive on the best days, when things are great and easy and another to stand next to each other and survive on the worst days, when things truly probably couldn’t get any worse and qualify as one of the worst days of their lives. And I truly mean weathering their worst days together because they’re always there for each other.” Robby takes a moment to let the words linger and glances down at his notes. 

“People say that relationships and love aren’t always 50-50. That sometimes one person is at 10% and so, in the best relationships, the other is at 90%. And that’s them.” He nods as he says it and there’s a few murmurs of agreement from the audience.

“They have this constant give and take, this way of adapting for the other. And if one of them is at 10% and the other falls even lower, to 5%, they’re both able to set their struggle aside for the moment and immediately be at 95% for the other. They never let the other be alone in their struggles or in their joy.” Robby pauses for a second, has to clear his throat, the emotion clearly starting to get to him. “It’s quite incredible to watch.”

Robby shifts his attention to address you and Jack directly. “I am so incredibly happy for the both of you. I have never met two individuals who deserve this happiness and love and life together more. I love you both very much,” his voice trembles a little as he says it, “and I wish you nothing but a lifetime of adventure, laughter, peace, joy and love.” 

You both look up at Robby as he says it. His eyes are glassy, and wet with unshed tears that are threatening to spill over. Jack nods at him, the two sharing a knowing smile. When Robby’s attention shifts to you, you mouth ‘we love you too’ and a few of those unshed tears slip down his cheeks.  

“I’m going to share two moments, my favorite moment that I’ve had with each of you that’s really kind of about the other one of you and then I’ll move this along, I promise.” Robby sniffles, wipes quickly at his eyes and takes a deep breath. You and Jack look back at each other and raise your eyebrows as you both grin in anticipation. You both correctly know you’re about to hear a story you’ve never heard before.

“I’ll start with you Jack. Years ago now, there was a really bad day at work and you and I were walking out into the darkness. You said something about preferring working nights and I asked if you were sick of working them yet and you said that your therapist thought you found comfort in the darkness.” You laugh softly at that, as does the audience. It sounds like Jack. 

“So fast forward two years and we’re walking out of the Pitt together one day as you’re getting off, you know actually it must have been three years and four or five days ago because it was a couple of days before your first anniversary. I asked you if you could cover a shift, fully expecting a yes. I was asking but I was so positive you’d say yes because you’re Jack and you always said yes to working. But you said no.” Robby pulls his mouth together in a grimace and nods at the audience to pull a few laughs. 

“No because it was your first anniversary together. And then,” Robby laughs to himself a little and cocks his head for a second, “like you’re just saying the sky is blue and not about to rock my entire world you said, ‘also, I’m switching to days, it’s better for us.’ I was honestly impressed with myself that I processed that news fast enough to call out a question to you before you were too far away to hear. I yelled at you, ‘I thought you found comfort in the darkness?’ and you turned around and looked at your phone which was definitely a photo of you by that point and smiled as you yelled back ‘guess I find it somewhere else now.’” A soft chorus of ‘aww’ rings through the audience. 

You tilt your head at Jack, chin trembling as your lips press together in a tight smile as you try and keep it together, silently asking him ‘really’ as your eyebrows draw together. Jack’s smile softens, eyes looking at you fondly, almost nostalgically and he squeezes your hands. He gives you a few small nods and your tears return.

“And I knew as I walked back into the Pitt, yes to go straight to Dana to tell her,” everyone laughs loudly at that, including you, Jack and Robby, “that even if you hadn’t told me yet, you were already planning a proposal. Sure enough, a couple of days later you told me you were going to propose, not sure when or how or where yet, but she’s it. She’s the one. ‘She’s my forever,’ I believe are the exact words.”

“Oh Jack,” you whisper just loud enough for him and him alone to hear, more tears falling. You wish that you could hug and kiss him and thank him for making you feel so loved all the time. Because he does and in the moment, hearing that story it’s overwhelming. You’re not sure how you’ll survive his vows. Your hands squeeze his before you drop one and use the handkerchief he gave you to dab at your eyes again and blot up the tears that have already wet your face. Jack remembers that conversation well, remembers how that smile at the end that Robby mentioned lasted his entire walk home. And somehow, he realizes, he loves you even more in this moment than he did then. 

Robby glances at you with a little conspiratorial smile. “And you. Just under two years ago, you and I were sitting in your hospital room talking. It was truly just you and I because Jack was showering. You’d been out of your coma for just shy of two days so we’d really known each other and had the opportunity to talk for five-ish days or so I wanna say. So we’re talking and you ask me to go to the grocery store for you. I said ‘sure of course, just make me a list.’” Robby nods a little as he remembers while he speaks.

“I give you my little notepad and a pen and it took you maybe five minutes to write down this fairly long grocery list. I remember thinking it was great that you had all these things you wanted and had an appetite and us having a battle about me taking your card to pay for things but anyway I take the list and after my shift I go, don’t think much of it.” He shrugs, glances at you and then the audience. You already know what’s coming and you know that you never told Jack.  

“I get to the store and start shopping and realize two things. First, that the list isn’t quite as long as I initially thought because you’d written brand names and specific flavors for things. And second,” he pauses to laugh a little, “every single thing on that list was one of Jack’s favorite things. Every single thing, I swear to god.”

Robby’s nodding at Jack, not that Jack sees it. He’s far too focused on you, asking you a ‘really’ with his eyes the same way you did, tears threatening to wet his face and a wobbly smile. And just like him you give him a few nods, squeeze his hands. 

“So I call you and you answer and said ‘hey if you’re looking for Jack he’s down getting the dinner delivery he ordered so he might not be able to answer.’ And I’m like ‘no I’m looking for you. I’m at the store and this list is all for Jack. Is there anything you want?’ You tell me ‘No, I put what matters and what we need on it.’” Robby glances at you, smiles at the way you’re looking at Jack.   

“I press you, ‘okay but are you sure?’ You said ‘Robby, please. He’s not eating enough here and it’s not healthy for him. He can’t eat big meals right now, he just picks at everything and you and I both know him and know he’s a snacker, a grazer. But he doesn’t have any snacks here. So he’s not really eating. Please. The list is what we need. What I need.’” 

Jack’s hands squeeze yours again, harder this time as ‘what I need’ echoes in his mind and tears slide down his face. You were focused on him during that time, you were watching him and taking care of him without him knowing it. It’s so you and he could almost drown in it, your love for him. “Doll,” it’s whispered, barely audible to you with how his voice cracks over it, hand dropping yours to wipe away his tears. Your heart aches in the moment from how much you love him. Like Jack you remember this story fairly well despite your health status at the time because it was the first super personal conversation you had with Robby. You can remember the genuine anxiety you had at the time because Jack wasn’t eating enough and it scared you. And also like Jack, somehow, you realize, you love him even more in this moment than you did then. 

“We hung up and it really sank in as I walked around shopping. You were just shot, had multiple major surgeries, a skull fracture, you had been out of a coma for less than 48 hours and you’re worried about Jack.” Robby shakes his head and lets out a small incredulous laugh. “You’re noticing Jack not eating enough and that he’s not eating big meals and remembering that he’s a snacker. You’re still pretty heavily medicated and you’re pulling out brand names and flavors of Jack’s favorite things. That’s when I knew if he asked you’d say yes and, selfishly in a way, it’s when I was convinced that you were the one for him and when I knew I wanted him to ask you.” All three of you, and probably close to the whole damn audience, have to take a second to clean up your tears.

“And so here we are today. At your wedding. You were two strangers in a bookstore. There was nothing between you. But from that nothing you slowly forged what has to be the most beautiful and profound love I’ve ever had the privilege of witnessing.” Robby’s voice wobbles and he pauses for a second, lets out a breath. 

“These two have decided to write their own vows, so get your tissues ready, I’m sure.” After deciding on personal vows you and Jack had decided to end them with five promises to each other. “Jack, we’ll start with you.”

Jack takes in a deep breath and drops one of your hands so that he can grab his vows from his pocket. 

He starts with your name, squeezing your hand that he’s still holding. “I’m going to start with some honesty,” he gives you a little smile. “I struggled to write these. Not because I couldn’t think of what to say but because there’s too much to say, there’s too much I want to tell you and promise you, too much you deserve to hear. And I could stand here and talk for hours and say all the words and it would never be enough to tell you how much I love you, how deep my love for you runs or how embedded in my soul you, and my love for you and your love for me is.” You start to cry because you know how much he means it and because you get it, feel the exact same way. 

“Doll, you are easily the biggest overthinker I know,” he laughs a little as he says it, smiling at you while you and the audience also laugh. He glances down at his vows before looking into your eyes again. He did his best to memorize them so that he can look you in your eyes as he speaks his vows to you. “And I say that with all the love in the world, I truly do, because I know it means that you have thought of every single reason not to love me or marry me and yet here you are. Loving me. Marrying me. You jumped head first and with your eyes wide open into loving me and you’ll never know what it means to me to have that kind of pure acceptance,” Jack’s voice trembles, “and to know that you’ve seen every bad part of me, every flaw and imperfection and have overthought it all and that you,” he has to stop as his voice breaks and he sucks in a shuddery breath to stifle the smallest sob. He just barely clears his throat, like he knows that he’s going to have to choke out his next line and pause after it regardless of how much he tries to prepare now. “And that you accept it all and choose to love me despite all my flaws and imperfections.” It almost sounds whispered with how raw and hoarse his voice is as he says it, but everyone hears it. Jack sniffles, drops your hand and takes a few seconds to wipe the tears from his face and collect himself before taking your hand again and continuing.

“You truly have no idea just how much you save me every day, heal a little piece of me with every smile and kiss and ‘Peter.’ You’re my comfort,” he tilts his head and gives you a lopsided grin that meets his eyes hard as he echoes what he told Robby two years ago, this time straight to you with tears flowing down both of your cheeks, “my salvation and my strength. You’re my home and my world. I told you once that you’re my best everything and I mean it. You are my best everything. You are the greatest and best part of me. I love you more than I know what to do with or how to show you.” You dab at your eyes almost continuously with your free hand, Jack’s words searing themselves into your brain and heart, especially with how he’s looking straight into your soul through your eyes as he talks to you. 

“And of all the things I might accomplish in this life,” Jack sniffles and clears his throat so his voice is a little stronger again, “the only thing I care to be remembered for is being your husband and being lucky enough to love you and be loved by you.” You cover your mouth with your handkerchief at that and stifle your own small sob while you squeeze Jack’s hand, hoping he understands that you’re saying the same is true for you. He knows. He always knows. 

Jack glances down at his vows again and straight back up to you. “So I promise to be honest, to be loyal and faithful and always have your back as your biggest supporter and your greatest source of encouragement. I promise I will always be here for you, that I will always be your refuge. I promise to always fight for you and for us. I promise to never take you or your love for granted and to always remember just how lucky I am to be able to call you mine.” He pauses to smile at you, tilt his head and squeeze your hand to emphasize the last one before he says it. “And I promise to love you with all of me through anything and everything life might throw our way.” 

It’s hard to resist the urge you have to hug him and kiss him and hold him close for five minutes straight while you both just cry tears of love and happiness into each other. Because you want to. You’ve never felt more loved or moved in your life. It’s almost difficult to comprehend in a way, that those words were just spoken by the love of your life to you. That someone feels that way about you and loves you this much. You’re not sure you deserve it but you take it in as best you can while he puts his vows away and wipes at his face. And Jack feels it too, that urge to hug you and kiss you and try to show you how much he loves you because he knows his words, while clearly impactful, fell far short of expressing his love for you. Like he said, he could never truly tell you what you mean to him and how much he loves you because the words don’t exist.

It’s quiet once Jack finishes, only sniffles from everyone present filling the air for a moment. Robby reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, your vows that you’d given him to hold onto for you this morning. “And now you,” he says softly, giving you a supportive nod as the two of you share a look while you take your vows from him. 

“Oh man, this feels so unfair, I can barely see through the tears.” You sniffle a soft laugh the audience joins you in, handkerchief at your eyes trying to soak up all the tears. You take in a deep breath before opening your folded vows and looking back up into Jack’s eyes. “Jack,” you start, “I love you.” You let out a small laugh because it’s such a simple way to open, glance down at your vows. Like Jack you’d memorized them to the best of your ability so you can look him in the eyes.  

“I swear this next part is written down,” you wave your vows at him and then the audience. “Writing these was much harder than I thought it was going to be,” you tilt your head and give him a look, “not because I couldn’t think of anything to say to you but because what do you tell the person that’s everything to you? I couldn’t figure out how to distill how I feel about you and how much I love you into words, and I still haven’t because nothing I say will ever be enough to even scratch the surface of how much I love you and what you mean to me.” Your voice catches thick in your throat as you shake your head a little at him while you speak, eyes narrowing slightly to emphasize your words.

“The thing about you Peter, is that you see me, all of me, to an extent I didn’t think was possible. You always use that x-ray vision they pulled you aside to teach you in your last year of med school,” you laugh a little as you say it and Jack lets out a short but proper laugh at your words because they’re unexpected and of course you would remember that, “to see right through me and know how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking. There is nothing that makes me feel more loved than when you take a single look at me and know exactly what I need without me speaking a single word. And when we’re together that’s an hourly occurrence.” You blot at your eyes again quickly and glance at your vows before finding Jack’s eyes again and continuing.

“You take what you see and you use it. Use it to love me and take care of me and heal me, even if you don’t consciously realize it. I’ve come to realize that you know me better than myself because you see me more than I see myself. And you always, without fail, see the best in me even when I show you the worst of me.” You take in a deep, shuddery breath as you struggle to keep your voice steady. “I am quite sure that has to be love in one of its simplest and purest forms. And that’s how you love me. I couldn’t be luckier.” Your voice is so thick and heavy with your tears you worry that you’re getting to be unintelligible but Jack’s reaction, the fast run of big tears and his trembling lip, and the increase in sniffles you hear from the audience make it clear everyone heard. 

Your gaze intensifies, eyes boring into Jack’s. “You’re my whole world and my entire heart. My rock and my constant. My biggest supporter and my protector. You’re everything. You are my everything and everything to me, Jack.” Your voice breaks on his name but you don’t clear your throat. You let it be raw and higher pitched as you finish. “Please never forget that.” Jack shakes his head slightly and squeezes your hand to tell you that he won’t and lets out the quietest choked sob, handkerchief damp with his tears just like yours with yours. His heart aches now with your love for him.

You clear your throat, take another shuddery deep breath and collect yourself. “I promise to always be your best student in medicine and otherwise, to never stop learning about you or how best to love you. I promise to never stop trying, to never give up on you or on us. I promise you my faithfulness, my honesty and my loyalty and my unwavering support in everything and to always be your safe space where you never have to hide. I promise to love you all the time, especially in the moments you’re struggling to love yourself. And I promise to never stop falling more in love with you.” 

Again, Jack fights the urge to hug and kiss and be close to you that you both fought after he made his vows to you. He’s never felt more loved, never felt so good. He struggles to comprehend it too, that someone loves him as much as you do, needs him the way you do. But you do and he knows it and he beams at you as you both wipe your tears. He takes your vows from you and folds them, slips them in his pocket next to his. You squeeze each other’s hand again, and you do your best to let it take the place of the hug and kiss you’re desperate to give him. You know you have a whole life to hug and kiss him as you please and that you’re going to feel this same overwhelming love in both directions in a few minutes when Robby says you can finally kiss. In this moment you just hope Jack has a fraction of a clue of how much you love him and need him and looking at him and seeing how he looks at you, you’re pretty sure he does.

“Well,” Robby says quietly. “I think we all need a moment after those.” Sniffled laughter rings out from the audience as Robby does give everyone a moment to dry their eyes and collect themselves. Even you and Jack both manage to get your tears to stop, if only for a little. “I’ll now ask you both to affirm your vows and declare your intent.” 

Robby turns to Jack first. “Jack, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Jack’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists as he says the words clear and strong, not a hint of hesitation to be found anywhere. 

“And do you,” Robby’s attention turns to you as he says your name, “take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” You beam at Jack as you say it and you’ve never exuded such confidence. You say it like it’s the easiest and simplest thing in the world.

“And now for the exchange of rings.” Robby’s voice is a little shaky. He grabs them both out of his breast pocket. “Very beautiful rings at that.” He says, sniffling and clearing his throat, a low hum of laughter sounding at his attempt to hide his emotions. He holds them in his palm in front of you and Jack, the padfolio with his notes in his other hand. 

Robby takes in a deep breath. “Your rings symbolize your love for one another. Love freely given and chosen every day with no beginning or end and with no true giver or receiver as you both give and receive equally, unbroken and infinite and yours alone. When you look at your rings be reminded of this moment, of the vows you’ve made to each other today, and of your unending and ever growing love for each other.” 

He offers his palm to Jack who picks up your ring. You raise your left hand and spread your fingers so Jack can hover your wedding ring at the start of your ring finger. Your hand shakes, no matter how hard try to keep it still the excitement and disbelief and joy and love win and it keeps shaking. Jack supports your hand with his free one, has it upturned, fingers resting against your palm and the length of your fingers, thumb wrapping gently over the side of your hand and resting on the back of it. Jack’s eyes return to yours and with it the intense eye contact you share, have been sharing most of your time up here. His eyes are glassy as he smiles at you. But you catch the slight tremble of his lips. 

“Jack, repeat after me. I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.”

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.” Jack’s eyes grow glassier as more tears form.  

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.”

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.” A few tears slide down Jack’s cheeks, his voice breaking around ‘always.’ You reach out with your right hand instinctively and use your handkerchief to blot some of his tears from his face making him laugh a little. From his face your hand goes to your own where tears have started to fall. 

“And with this ring, I marry you and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.”

“And with this ring,” Jack has to pause for a second to collect himself and clear his throat, “I marry you and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.” He’s smiling at you as he says it, tears still wetting his face as he breaks eye contact with you to watch as he slides your wedding ring all the way onto your finger. 

You watch as he does too, wear the biggest grin when you look back up at each other. You widen your eyes at him in a silent oh my god I have a wedding ring, we just did that. 

Robby holds his palm out for you and you take Jack’s wedding ring. Jack holds his left hand out and spreads his fingers just like you did. And his hand shakes just as badly as yours did as you hover his wedding ring at the start of his finger. Your free hand comes to support his left as he did for you. 

Robby glances at you. “Repeat after me. I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.”

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.” You press your lips together hard but they pull upward in a smile, tears still flowing from listening to Jack declare the same thing to you and trying to prevent the emotion from fully clouding your voice this early.

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.”

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.” You make it just a little further than Jack, the tears slipping into your voice and making it break at ‘in.’ 

Neither you nor Jack really stopped crying since you started again when Jack gave you your ring, nor have either of you stopped smiling through your tears. So, like you, Jack uses his handkerchief to wipe away some of your tears before doing the same for himself and his own. He’s careful too, dabbing like he’s observed you doing so that he doesn’t smear your makeup. You fight the urge his care and attention gives you to cry a little harder. 

“And with this ring, I marry you and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.”

“And with this ring, I marry you,” you pause to sniffle, try and steady your voice in vain, “and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.” You have to break eye contact again so you can both watch as you slide his wedding band all the way onto his finger. Once it’s on you both watch as Jack closes his hand into a fist and reopens it as he gets used to having a ring. 

You’re both wide eyed as you hold hands again and slowly look back up at each other, almost in disbelief because this is it. You both have rings, have made vows and declared your intent. Robby is about to say it. Grins pull up onto your face, breaking quickly into huge beaming smiles. You’re both so overwhelmed with love in the moment, tears flow a little harder and you both giggle softly.

“And now by the very limited authority vested in me,” Robby nods at you and Jack and grabs both of your handkerchiefs from you, not that either of you see him or do much more than release them when you feel him pull, still focused on each other, still beaming so hard your cheeks hurt, “I pronounce you husband and wife. May your first act of marriage be one of love. You may now kiss for the first time as husband and wife.” As soon as he’s done speaking, Robby moves off the altar to the side so that it’ll just be you and Jack in photos, your friends and family cheering and clapping loudly for you, a couple of people whistling. 

Without hesitation you and Jack move in synchrony, both of you taking a half step towards the other to close the small distance between you, your bodies pressing against one another. Jack brings his hands up to your face, his thumbs resting gently above your jawline as his other fingers hold your neck. Your hands find the sides of his upper arms and wrap around them as much as possible. You both somehow smile a little bigger as you keep looking each other in the eyes for a second, your hands. Your heads tilt in opposite directions automatically as you lean in and kiss for the first time as a married couple. 

The kiss is perfect. Short and chaste but so much more than enough to at least begin to convey all the emotions both of you are feeling, the excitement and disbelief and joy and overwhelming love. There’s so much love in the kiss it almost makes both of you dizzy. It lingers just long enough but not too long. When it ends you steal another couple quickly. “I love you,” you giggle against Jack’s lips. 

“I love you too,” Jack chuckles a little.

Your arms wrap around Jack’s neck, one hand staying to hold the side of his face as his hands are moving so that one arm wraps around you, hand splaying against your back as his other hand grips your waist. He pulls you tight against him and then tucks you under him as he spins you a little and smoothly dips you as he kisses you again, just like he did when you first visited and selected the venue. You finish one kiss and smile against each other’s lips for a second before you kiss again and Jack returns you upright just as smoothly as he dipped you.  

When you’re standing again you and Jack pull apart, and the audience quiets just enough as Robby steps back onto the altar so that he can introduce you. “Family and friends, I’m honored and thrilled to introduce to you for the first time the Abbots!”

You’re sure you must grin like a love-drunk idiot when Robby calls you the Abbots but you genuinely couldn’t stop it if you tried. You’re truly just that happy. And Jack’s smiling just as hard at you as he laces your hand with his and you both turn towards the audience. You grab your bouquet from Dana in your other hand and exchange smiles with her before turning back to Jack to share a glance and make your way back up the aisle, smiling and thanking your friends and family who are clapping for you once again as you do. 

You and Jack walk hand in hand to the small room you’ve set aside to have thirty minutes with each other before you take photos while your guests enjoy cocktail hour. Your makeup artist has already graciously left you some redness clearing eyedrops and the caterer dropped off some appetizers for the two of you to enjoy. You figured it was a good way to give your eyes a chance to recover from crying even though your photographer can edit them out and to get some food because you’ve been told it gets hectic and the bride and groom often don’t get to eat much. But more than anything it’s just thirty minutes alone together as husband and wife. 

Once you’re both in the room with the door locked you can finally give into the urges to be close and hold each other that you were both fighting the entire ceremony. 

Your arms slide around Jack’s neck as his slide around your back, pulling you as close to him as he can get while still being able to kiss you. Because kiss you Jack does. He starts fairly chaste, more a series of kisses than anything but they grow more fervent, his tongue flicking across your bottom lip to coax your mouth open for him. When you do he’s quick to lick into your mouth, groaning at the taste of you. He lets you into his mouth when your tongue seeks it out, sucks slightly to pull another pretty moan from you, a small groan escaping him when you nip at his bottom lip and suck at it before letting him dive back into you.

You finally break apart when you’re no longer able to get enough oxygen in through your nose alone. You rest your foreheads together for a second before you move you to have your face nuzzling against his neck so that your chests can be pressed against each other more as you hold each other. 

“I wanted to do this so bad during the ceremony,” you murmur. “Just hug and hold you and be hugged and held by you. I just wanted to be close after everything that we said.” 

Jack squeezes you tighter, rocks you both a little. “I did too Doll, believe me.”

The two of you stand there holding each other and relishing in your closeness for what has to be five minutes. You’re both silent save the occasional soft hum at the right touch. You’re silent but you’re still talking to each other with your hands, where they wander and rub and squeeze. Both of you are reflecting on what you said to each other at the ceremony, what was said to you by the other, observations Robby made. It’s hard to believe it’s real. You made it here together and are now standing holding each other as husband and wife. 

Jack takes great care not to mess up your hair as he lets one of his hands find the back of your neck and pulls your face from him gently. “Let me really look at you and your dress now, yeah?” he murmurs as his eyes find yours before you can whine about being pulled away from him. 

“Only if I can also really look at you.” You smile and are already releasing him and stepping back for him as you say it. You know he’ll let you. He won’t understand why you want to, but he’ll let you. 

“Course,” he whispers distractedly as he takes his own step back and starts really taking in your dress, taking in every detail and walking around you to see the entire thing. The same feelings and thoughts as when he saw you for the first time rush through him. “Doll,” he breathes out once he’s in front of you again, “you are truly stunning. You always are but this, you in your wedding dress, fuck, it’s something else.” He looks you in the eyes as he says it but once he finishes they quickly drop again, sweeping over your dress and back up to your eyes. “There really aren’t words.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, awkward at accepting compliments, even from him. But you don’t need to say more, Jack knows. He knows what his words mean to you and how they make you feel. “Let me see you, please.” Jack nods and your eyes rake over his body. He turns for you slowly, lets you take him in. “You are so unfairly handsome, Jack, I don’t know how I got so lucky.” Like with him, your feelings and thoughts when you saw him the first time hit you all over again. “Always are, but this,” you let out a soft laugh and shake your head slightly, “like you said, it’s something else. No words.”

A light flush hits Jack’s neck and cheeks. He struggles accepting compliments at times just like you. “Thank you.” He doesn’t need to say more either, and you share another kiss and wrap each other in a tight hug again, communicating so much with every touch. You stay wrapped in each other like that for at least a minute if not a little longer. 

“Wanna sit? Have some food?” Jack finally murmurs. He would stand here holding you forever if you asked. Happily.

You nod, take his hand as he releases you and guides you over to the couch, food on the table in front of it, along with the eyedrops. “Here.” You grab the eyedrops and a tissue, put a couple drops in each eye. “To help with the redness.”

“You really thought of everything didn’t you?” Jack grabs them from you and then the tissue, puts a few in each eye and uses the tissue to catch anything that falls over. 

“Makeup artist,” you admit. “She was on it.” 

“She was,” Jack murmurs. “Even though you don’t need it in the slightest, your makeup does look exceptional.” He leans in for a quick kiss before turning to pull the table the food is on closer to the couch.

“Wait! Before we eat, move my engagement ring back!” You hold out both hands. 

He chuckles a little at your excitement. You could easily move it back yourself but you want him to and it’s adorable. “Alright, Doll.” Jack smiles at you as he slides your engagement ring off your right hand and brings it over a little and slides it right back down your left ring finger until it sits atop your wedding band perfectly. He brings your hand up and kisses your rings before he lets go of your hand. “Perfect.”

You giggle a little as you look down at your left hand and wiggle your finger a little to watch all the diamonds catch the light. Jack smiles as he watches you, drinks you in and tries to memorize the moment and how happy and gorgeous you look. “Hey, guess what?” You look back up at him.

“What?”

You shift a little closer to him and place your hands on his chest. “You’re my husband now,” you slide your hands up his neck to hold his face, “and I’m your wife.”

Jack’s eyes darken, jaw tensing and breathing picking up just slightly. His hands wrap over yours where they rest against his face and neck. “My wife,” he breathes out. 

His lips are on yours, all consuming from the get go, no soft lead-up like he usually does. His kisses are insistent, tongue tasting you again and pulling a little moan from the back of your throat. The sound spurs him on, Jack’s hands moving, arms wrapping around you as he leans you back onto the couch, one hand supporting your neck and helping you keep it up enough so that your hair is protected as your head almost lays against the armrest of the couch. It’s an awkward position with your legs still over the edge of the couch but neither of you care or even particularly notice, getting lost in each other, heavy exhales through your noises and sloppy kissing sounds filling the room.  

“Jack.” You try to say his name as a warning but it comes out far too breathy to be remotely effective. He doesn’t like that you’ve pulled away, his lips chasing yours as he makes a noise of discontent. “You really want our first time as husband and wife to be a quickie in a random room?”

“I mean…it’s a nice couch,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Jack.” Your hands push at his chest a little so that he’ll look at you. 

“No, no, I know you’re right, I just.” He groans and rests his forehead against your chest for a second before looking back up at you and helping you sit back upright.  “I just want you. Really bad. My wife.”

“I know.” You give him a soft smile and kiss on the cheek. “And please don’t think I don’t want you. I do. Just as badly as you want me.”

“No, I know, I don’t think that,” he assures you. “You’re right. I want to be able to go slow and take my wife apart piece by piece for our first time as husband and wife.” 

His words make you shiver. “Yeah,” you breathe out and nod, eyes flicking all over his face and down his body before coming back up. “I want to be able to do that to my husband too.” 

Jack groans, leans his forehead against yours. “The anticipation makes it better, right?”

You let out a small laugh. “Sure does, Peter.” You give him another quick kiss. “Let’s have some food.” Jack nods and pulls his forehead away. 

You and Jack both start to eat, still side by side and leaning into each other a little. “Oh, what’s the ring on your right hand?” Jack asks in between bites. 

“Mm,” you hum as you finish chewing and swallowing. “My something borrowed, which reminds me. Thank you. For doing that for me, arranging it.” You look down at the ring. “I didn’t realize how much it meant to do it until I had everything.” You return your eyes to Jack’s and smile at him. 

“It felt like you were a little more bummed about not doing it than you were admitting to yourself. And none of them felt burdened by it, if anything they were all excited to have that extra bit of involvement.” He raises his eyebrows a little and cocks his head just a little, the slightest I told you so smile pulling onto his face. 

“I’m ignoring that look on purpose,” you tell him before taking a bite and grinning at him. Jack just laughs and shakes his head, takes a bite of his own. “But the ring is from Dana, obviously. She said it’s been worn by every Evans woman who has gotten married for a hundred and two years and there’s not been a single divorce,” you explain after you finish your bite. 

Jack’s eyebrows raise at that and he tilts his head to silently say impressive as he chews. “Then something new you obviously know about which we’re circling back to in a second.” You grab your bouquet from the table. “Heather’s something old was this locket.” You hand the bouquet to Jack so he can see. 

“It’s very pretty.” He runs his thumb over the front. 

“It is. She got it at an antique store and said hummingbirds are a symbol of resilience and she thought that was fitting for us.” You rest your hand on Jack’s upper arm and squeeze a little. “Open it.” 

It should be more difficult than it is for Jack with how big his hands and how thick his fingers are but practicing medicine has given him phenomenal dexterity. You’re intimately familiar with how good his dexterity is. “Oh, wow,” Jack murmurs. He doesn’t know what he was expecting but not that. “Our first picture together.”

You beam at Jack even though he can’t see because he’s still looking at the picture. “She got it off my phone one night when we were out. Very sneaky,” you laugh. “And then apparently the rhyme ends with ‘a sixpence in your shoe.’ Mel wasn’t sure if anyone was getting one so she got one and we attached it to my shoe.” You hold it out for Jack to see. “But about this something new, Jack Abbot.”

“You skipped something blue.” Jack raises his brows at you slightly as he takes another bite. 

You shake your head, smirking just a little. “No, something blue is for you to see later.”

His eyes narrow in suspicion just a touch but you watch as they dilate a little because he knows it has to be something below your dress based on your smirk. “What if I want to see it now?” he rasps. 

“Then you’ll have to be patient.” You shrug at him. “Something new. Jack, it’s beautiful.” You hold up your wrist to admire the bracelet. “It’s so much and it complements my rings perfectly.” You can feel your eyes start to burn a little and you have to look away from the bracelet and Jack so that you don’t start crying again and render the eyedrops useless. 

“You deserve it,” Jack murmurs, making you shake your head and tilt it back so you don’t cry. “It’s about the least you deserve, Doll.” You reach blindly for his thigh and squeeze it as a thank you and way to say all the words you can’t at the moment. “And let’s talk about my something new.” That gets you to laugh a little and after a big breath you’re able to look at him. “It’s incredible.” Jack holds his wrist out this time, pulling his sleeves up a bit. “I don’t think I’ve ever had something this nice or been given such an amazing gift.” He runs a finger along the circular face of the watch. 

You’re smiling at him when he looks up at you. It’s soft and reflects so much love with the extra little squint of your eyes. “You deserve it. It’s about the least you deserve, Peter,” you repeat Jack’s words back to him, mean them just as much.

He smiles at you, just a hint of some shakiness in his lips before leaning in to kiss you. Like your thigh squeeze his kiss is a thank you and everything else he can’t say. “I love you,” he whispers as he pulls away, smiling softly at you.  

“I love you too.” You give him another little thigh squeeze. 

You and Jack continue to chat as you finish eating your appetizers. You still have some time left once your done and Jack pulls you into his lap and leans back into the couch as he holds you. You both revel in the closeness and soft touches. 

There’s a knock on the door and you know your time is up. “Guess I have to go share you with everyone again.” You pout at Jack playfully. 

He chuckles and kisses your out turned lip. “I know how you feel Doll.” He gives you a real kiss once you get rid of your pout and then is up and opening the door.

Waiting outside it for you are your photographer, your makeup artist, Robby, Dana, and your friend. “Marriage license time,” Robby sings a little as he walks in holding up the paper. 

All of you sign it, Dana and your friend acting as your two witnesses. You say goodbye and they head back to cocktail hour while you get your makeup touched up and you and Jack meet with your photographer for photos, take what feels like a thousand all over the place. You both know it’s going to be hard to choose which ones to get printed and hang. 

Just before you finish taking photos your wedding coordinator gets everyone to the reception space and seated for dinner. When you do finish she lets Robby know and hands him the mic. You’d also roped him in to quasi-emceeing for you. 

He introduces you as you and Jack walk into the reception space. “Alright everybody, for the second ever time, let’s give a warm welcome to the Abbots!” Your guests all cheer and clap for you as you and Jack make your way over to your sweetheart table and sit down, Jack pulling your chair out and offering you his hand to help you sit like he always does. 

“Okay, so,” Robby starts as dinner begins to be served. “Obviously dinner is being served. The bride and groom decided to let whoever wants to give a speech give one during dinner. But you have to give it before they give their own right before the first dance.” 

“I’m not going to give a full one since I really already got to at the altar. But, I just want to say again that you both mean so much to me and I am so happy for you guys. I wish you all the happiness in the world, you both deserve it so so much and deserve each other and your love. So here’s to the Abbot’s,” Robby raises his glass and everyone follows, “I love you both dearly.” He tilts his glass at you and the sound of glasses clinking together fills the room for a few seconds before it stops when sips are taken. 

Quite a few people give speeches over the course of dinner, Dana, Heather, your friend, Jack’s unit gets up and gives one together, some of the Pitt crew copying and getting up in small groups to say a few words. You and Jack laugh and chat together in between them, stay close to each other and pick off each other’s plates. You’d deliberately gotten different options so you could share, something you frequently do when you eat out. 

Once you’re done eating and signal to Robby he gets up and calls out to see if there are any last speeches and hands you and Jack the microphone when everyone stays seated. You and Jack take turns speaking to all of your friends and family, keep it short because you know everyone’s attention spans for speeches are worn by this point. 

After you finish Robby takes the microphone back, gives you and Jack a second to get out on the dance floor. He keeps the introduction simple. “And now we get to watch them have their first dance as husband and wife.”

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you whisper to Jack as you start to dance when your song begins playing. 

“I know,” he murmurs back as he beams at you. “After all the planning and waiting for this day to come here we are.” You and Jack are really swaying to the music more than anything. You didn’t learn a dance or really practice. It just wasn’t your style as a couple. 

“You know I’ve been thinking about this moment since you danced with me up on the roof.” Your eyes start to grow a little shiny. 

Jack smirks a little and flicks his eyebrows up. “We weren’t even engaged then.”

You shake your head. “No, we weren’t. But I hoped and dreamed we would be one day and while we were dancing and ever since then I had moments where I really thought about it and what it would be like. Our first dance at our wedding.” 

“You wanna know a secret?” Jack’s grinning at you. 

“Always.”

“I came about three seconds away from proposing up there on the roof that night,” he admits with a little laugh. 

Your jaw falls open a little. “Really?” Jack nods at you with an amused smile. “Why didn’t you?” You’re smiling back at him now that you’ve gotten over the initial shock of his unexpected revelation. 

Jack hums for a second. “I didn’t think the roof of the hospital I work at and you were currently a patient at really screamed romantic or place to propose. And you were in the hospital. You’d been shot and almost died and I didn’t want it to feel like that’s why I was proposing. Because of what happened or because I felt like I had to or anything along those lines.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that,” you murmur. Jack nods. He knows. He knew then too, but it still worried him and at the end of the day he didn’t want to propose on the roof of the hospital. “Did you have the ring with you?”

“No,” he laughs, “nope, I was just going to get down on one knee and do it and promise you there was a ring waiting at home and send Robby to go get it.” He pauses for a second. “I was also worried you would get so excited you’d somehow manage to accidentally pull your central line out and it would go from cute date night scene to bloody crime scene with my hand clamped over your neck real quick.” 

“That would not have been ideal.” Jack spins you at the right point in the music and it and his words make you giggle a bit. “Would have been a hell of a story though.” 

“Oh, it would have been something,” he laughs. You both smile at each other fondly, glad you’ve gotten to a point where you can talk about what happened with some humor and not feel a total ache inside. 

“I love you,” you whisper to him, “more than anything.” You stick your lips out and Jack leans down as you continue to dance and gives you the kiss you ask for. 

“I love you too,” he whispers against your lips, “more than anything.” He steals another couple of kisses from you before straightening back up as the song starts to end. “I’m going to dip you,” he murmurs quickly.

And as the music ends Jack dips you and kisses you again, just like he did at the altar. You smile into it before the kiss breaks and you keep your foreheads together as Jack brings you back upright. “Always so smooth,” you laugh. 

“Only for you, Doll,” he murmurs, pulling his forehead from yours and giving you a quick forehead kiss while your guests clap and the DJ puts on a fast song, everyone heading to the dance floor.

The party really starts then, the DJ doing a great job of playing all the right songs to get people dancing and having a good time with you and Jack out on the dance floor. He mixes in a few slow songs and you and Jack enjoy watching who pairs up with who and getting to take a few minutes to focus back on each other and check in. 

“I’ll be right back,” Jack tells you with a quick kiss after a slower song finishes and a fast one starts. 

“You better be,” you say with mock sternness in your tone and on your face, Jack rolling his eyes playfully at you. He walks off the dance floor and shrugs his jacket off and lays it over his chair at the sweetheart table and undoes a button of his shirt. 

Jack keeps his promise, making his way back to you from behind and pulling you close as he starts dancing with you again. “Fast enough?” He yells over the music. 

“I suppose.” You turn your head up to look back at him, huge smile on your face. Your eyebrows raise and you spin in his arms when you notice the lack of jacket and open button. “Hot?”

“Not anymore.” Jack smirks at you and pulls you back close to him to dance. 

You and Jack get separated a bit as you dance. And when another slow song starts Robby cuts in just before Jack can get to you. “May I have this dance?” He offers you his hand. “Don’t even start Jack, the officiant is allowed a dance with the bride, it’s just the rules.” Robby smirks, giving Jack a look.  

You laugh softly at Robby’s playful over-formalness. “You may,” you nod at him, take his hand. “Next one, Peter.” You wink at Jack.

“It’s true Jack, Robby’s right,” Dana playfully chides him. “Plus I think you owe me a dance.” 

“I suppose you did walk me down the aisle.” Jack smiles and steps away from you and Robby before offering his hand to Dana. 

You and Robby start dancing, really just swaying around the dance floor more than anything. “I had an interesting conversation with your husband while he was getting ready earlier.” 

You’re smiling at Robby the entire time, but your eyes light up and you beam at him when he calls Jack your husband. “My husband,” you just have to say the words, make a little face of excitement. “And what did you and my husband talk about?”  

Robby’s quiet for a moment as he thinks of what exactly he wants to say. “I started by telling him that the two of you were idiots for thinking you don’t deserve each other and your love, because I know you have the same thoughts as him at times.” Your mouth drops open a little and you scoff playfully. It’s definitely not what you expected him to say. “And then I said some rendition of this. You said he’s your everything and I know he is. Everyone here knows he is, we all believe you. I see the way you look at him and hear the way you talk about him. But, you have to know that you are everything to Jack in that same way, that same capacity. He looks at you and talks about you in the same way you do about him. The way that you love him and feel about him and the intensity of your love for him, it’s all exactly the same as how Jack loves you and feels about you and how intense his love for you is. You think he deserves your love, right?” 

“He does,” you affirm quietly as you nod. 

“Yeah,” Robby nods, “he does. And you deserve his love just the same. I told Jack that I think today, on the day of your wedding, would be a really good day to let yourself accept it. That you deserve Jack and his love and to be loved at the same intensity with which you love Jack.” Robby’s giving you a small, knowing smile, eyebrows slightly raised as he nods just a little at you. 

You have to look away for a moment. “Robby, I,”  you start, but never finish. His words hit you just as hard as they hit Jack. As hard as it is for you to believe and admit you know Robby is right. 

“It’s okay,” you can hear the smile in Robby’s voice and you look back at him. “You don’t have to say anything. I just told Jack I’d give you the same spiel.” 

You laugh softly. “What was his reaction? It had to involve your therapist.”

Robby laughs properly at that. “Yeah, you know him well. He said our therapist was rubbing off on me and asked if I was thinking of leaving him to become a psychologist.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Sounds like him.” You and Robby share a quiet laugh together, your eyes drifting across the dance floor until you spot Jack. You watch him and Dana dance for a moment, both of them smiling and laughing. It makes your heart warm. 

“You’re really good for him, you know?” Robby watches you watch Jack. You pull your eyes back to him and flash an apologetic smile for ignoring him a little for a second there. “I’ve never really had the chance to tell you that. But you’re really really good for him. You’re what he needed.” 

You give Robby a small smile. “Yeah, he was what I needed too. What I need.”

“I know it sounds like something people say just to say, but please try to believe me when I tell you that I have never seen that man happier than I have since you’ve been in his life.” Robby smiles and tilts his head. “And thank you. For loving and helping the people around him too.” 

“You’re family. All of you. And thank you, Michael,” your voice shakes just slightly. “For everything.” 

Robby huffs a laugh and looks away from you for a second. “That was a very targeted use of Michael meant to make me cry again.”  

You both laugh as the song ends and move towards the edge of the dance floor. “It wasn’t deliberate,” you whisper as you hug him and give him a kiss on the cheek. “It just felt like the right moment.” 

“Am I allowed to have my wife back now?” 

“Of course,” Robby tells him as you both turn to greet Jack and it’s almost like you’re magnetized the way you both seamlessly move towards each other, your hand sliding to rest on Jack’s back as his arm wraps around your waist. He gives you a reassuring little squeeze and kiss to your temple and you rest your other hand on his chest. 

“He gave me the spiel.” You look up at Jack with a gentle smile. 

“Ah,” Jack nods, “good. You should listen to him.” 

“You both should listen to me!” Robby scoffs playfully. “Once again, you’re both idiots sometimes.” 

“Thank you for not putting that in your ceremony opening or your speech.” Jack flicks his eyebrows up and nods at Robby with a fake grimace and ire. 

Robby rolls his eyes. “Just try, yeah? That’s all. Just try to accept you deserve each other and your love, okay?”

You and Jack share a look and exchange soft smiles before turning to Robby. “We are,” Jack assures him. 

“Promise,” you add. 

Robby looks between the two of you before nodding. “Alright. Good.” He looks back at the dance floor. The music is fast again, the majority of your guests out dancing. It makes you and Jack happy, seeing all of your friends and family blending together like they’ve known each other forever. “You guys should get back to dancing with your guests.”

“You,” you point at Robby, smile growing, “should come with us!”

He laughs, shakes his head. “Maybe in a bit, I’m going to take advantage of your open bar and go get a drink, sit for a minute.”

You boo him teasingly. “No, no, Doll,” Jack starts as Robby turns and starts walking away, “if the old man needs a rest, we have to let him. Don’t want him straining himself, do we?” You bite your lip and turn your head into Jack’s chest a little as you fight back a laugh.

Robby stops walking and gives a singular hummed laugh before turning to look back at you and Jack. “You just really had to go there, huh?”

Jack presses his lips together and pulls them up a bit in a not quite smirk, as he shrugs and starts pulling you towards the center of the dance floor. “I didn’t go anywhere but the truth.” 

You giggle as you and Jack turn and let yourselves get pulled back into the middle of things, starting to dance with your friends again. Jack doesn’t let you get separated this time, he wants you close, keeps a hand wrapped around your waist and you pulled back close to him. You share a laugh when you see Robby there with you, getting pulled in by Heather and Santos. 

A few songs later and the DJ announces that the cake will be cut in ten minutes. You spin so that you and Jack are chest to chest. “Guess we should go sit and cool down and I should touch my makeup up before that.”

Jack nods at you and laces your hand with his. The two of you walk back over to your sweetheart table and Jack pulls your chair back for you, helps you sit before he takes his own seat. “Thank you.” You lean over and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing the makeup bag staged under the table. 

“For?” 

“For getting my chair and helping me into my seat.” You throw him a smile as you start to pull things out of the bag. “And don’t say I don’t need to thank you for it because that’s what a gentleman does or whatever variation thereof you were about to say. I do need to thank you for it because I appreciate it and you and want you to always know that and that I don’t take you for granted. And most men don’t do things like that anymore, Jack. So it is special to me.” 

Jack laughs to himself. “You’re welcome. I enjoy doing those kinds of little things for you.” 

“I know, because you’re the best.” You pull a couple of oil blotting papers out from the pack in your makeup bag. “Sh.” You hold your index finger up to Jack’s lips. “Just accept that you are.” You pull your finger away and replace it quickly with your lips. 

Jack deepens the kiss more than he generally would in public and you let him. You’re effectively alone right now, everyone having so much fun dancing or sitting around the other tables and laughing that nobody is looking at you. Even then it’s not like you’re fully making out. Jack’s tongue just presses against your lips a little and you open your mouth just a little for him, just enough for his tongue to slip into your mouth and taste you for the briefest of seconds.

“You taste like expensive champagne,” he groans against your lips before pulling away. “I love it.” 

You hum at him and Jack says nothing, doesn’t flinch or blink as you start to blot at his face with the papers, just lets you do your thing, both of you equally sweaty. It’s a better look on him though. You only blot a few more places and then pull away, deciding it’s okay if he looks a little sweaty. Just makes him more attractive to you if you’re honest. “I enjoy expensive champagne,” you smirk at him as you shrug, “actually I’d like more expensive champagne. We should go get some.”

“I’ll go get us some, okay? While you touch yourself up or whatever it is you believe you need to do, because I personally think you look gorgeous just as you are right now.” He leans in and steals a kiss before you can argue with him. 

“I look sweaty and shiny.” Your eyes track him as he stands up.  

Jack stoops and kisses the top of your hair carefully. “Gorgeous,” he whispers as he walks away, walking backwards for a few paces to wink at you before turning. 

You shake your head at him affectionately and go back to blotting your face and touching up your makeup so that your lipstick is fresh and your face perfectly between matte and dewy. You know your photographer can edit things but you also know other people will be taking photos. It really hits you once you close your compact and aren’t focused on your face anymore. You and Jack are married. You’re about to cut the cake at your wedding. 

Jack’s thinking the same thing as he walks to the bar and in the moment he waits for the bartender to pour the two glasses of champagne and one of water. He thumbs at his wedding ring, opens and closes his fist. He’s not used to it, wearing a ring, and so it’s a constant reminder. You’re married. He’s bringing his wife back champagne for you to enjoy together before you cut the cake at your wedding. 

“Okay, more expensive champagne as requested.” Jack hands you your flute before he sits and sets down his flute and the glass of water. “And some water. We should both have some.” He gives you a little no arguing look. 

“I wasn’t going to argue, I was going to say thank you and that I meant to ask you to get some before you walked away but forgot.” You grab the glass and take a couple sips. “So thank you. I needed it.” You hold the glass out to him. 

“Course, Doll.” He takes it from you, has a couple of sips himself before setting it down. You both pick up your champagne flutes and take a sip. 

You hum as you let the bubbles rest in your mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. “You have to admit it’s really fucking good champagne.”

Jack laughs. “I never said it wasn’t! I think it’s very good.” He stops speaking but his lips twitch like he wants to say more, eyes glint a little mischievously. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, “I was just thinking about how I was never a big champagne fan before you.” You raise your eyebrows at him asking that so? as you take another sip. “Tasting it on you though… changed my opinion. Now I love it.”  

You cough a little as you finish your sip, not expecting him to say that. “Probably less tasting it on me and more me making us always get expensive real champagne.” 

“No, I’m quite certain it was tasting it on you.” You give him a look. “It was. The first time we shared a bottle of one of your favorite expensive real champagnes we were at your apartment because your week had been long and you wanted to celebrate it being over and the fact that I had a full weekend off so we could spend the entire weekend together. I had a glass and thought it was better than champagne I’d had before, yes, but I didn’t love it really. And then we started making out on your couch and I tasted it on you and my eyes were opened. Ever since then I really have come to enjoy it. But it was tasting it on you that made me start to enjoy it.”

You nod at him, the slight grin you’re wearing telling Jack that while you struggle to believe it, you do believe him. “I’m equal parts wooed and turned on by that little confession, Peter.”

Jack laughs at that, properly, because it was such a you thing to say. “You are…” he shakes his head and looks around while he tries to find the right word. “You.” His eyes crinkle and his lips pull up, “you’re so you sometimes, Doll, and I love it so much. I’m sure that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense but-” 

“It does,” you cut in to reassure him. “I know what you mean. You have moments where you say or do something and I think to myself that was such a Jack thing of him to say or do. I get it, and I love it too.” You give Jack the same loving smile he’s giving you. “A toast.” You raise your champagne flute, Jack following your lead. “To a long lifetime of expensive champagne together.”

Jack shakes his head at you, still smiling at you like he’s drowning in love. “Here, here,” he murmurs before you clink your glasses and take a sip. “You done touching up?”

“I am,” you nod. “We still have some time.”

“I know, come here.” Jack beckons you with his fingers, his other hand patting his lap. You giggle as you comply with his request, sliding your flute of champagne over next to his before sitting on his lap, one arm wrapping behind his neck so you can scratch at the nape of his neck how he loves. “That’s better.” One arm comes around you to hold you close while his other hand rests in your lap and starts to play with your hand that rests there too.

You let yourself lean into him. Let yourself lean into your husband as you take a moment together and watch the room, sip on champagne and water. “I can’t believe it’s almost over.”

“I know,” Jack agrees. His hand squeezes your hip and you look down at him. “Thank you.”

You smile at him curiously. “For what?” 

“Everything.” He shrugs, looking into your eyes. “Marrying me. Being my best friend. Making me laugh. Taking care of me. Loving me.” There’s a little pause between each one so they all sink in. Jack glances away from you and you can tell from that and his expression that there’s one he’s fighting with himself about saying. When he looks back up at you he’s clearly more emotional. “Waking up,” he whispers so quietly you would’ve missed it if you weren’t looking right at him. 

“Jack-”

“No,” he shakes his head, clearing his throat. “No, I don’t want us to go there or dwell on it or any of that, I just wanted to say it, felt like we should acknowledge it quickly somehow.” 

You give him a soft smile, bring your hands to cup his face. “I’ll always wake up for you,” you murmur as you look him in the eyes and lean in to give him a series of painfully soft and sweet kisses. 

“Good.” He smirks at you. “If you don’t I’ll just pinch your ass awake.” 

“Ha!” you laugh triumphantly. “So you admit it! You did pinch my ass awake on the day of our third anniversary and wedding.” Jack starts laughing because the way you said it was so you again and he loves you so much and you’re his fucking wife now. You shake your head at him in mock upset.

Jack keeps laughing, his laugh so contagious it makes you start to laugh with him. He’s overwhelmed. “I love you so fucking much I want to squeeze you and bite you and kiss you and also just fuck you right here on this table, god.” He leans in and steals a kiss from you, longer this time. 

“I love when I bring out the cuteness aggression in you,” you giggle as he pulls away. Jack shakes his head at you and laughs softly. “But hey,” you grow a little serious again. “Thank you too. For everything. Marrying me, being my best friend, making me laugh. Loving me.” Your voice gets a little like Jack’s did and you tilt your head at him a little. “Taking care of me. Never leaving my side. Never letting me feel alone.” 

“Always, Doll.” Jack’s eyes crinkle just a little more than normal with his soft smile that you return. You just look at each other for a moment, let it all fade away and rest your foreheads together. 

“Here.” You pull your forehead from Jack’s and grab a napkin, dip a little piece in the glass of water. “Let me make sure you don’t have any lipstick on you.” 

“Not my color?” He smirks. 

“Not there it isn’t.” You look him in the eyes and smirk harder, the quickest and slightest raise of your brows.

Jack lets out a single choked laugh as you bring the napkin to his lips and rub gently. “Are you trying to have me hard in the cake cutting photos?”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately as you finish wiping off his lips. “I’m sitting on your lap Peter, I can assure you that if I wanted you hard in the cake cutting photos I wouldn’t be using my words to achieve that.” You boop his nose on the last word and die a little inside at how cute he looks when he scrunches his nose at it. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he playfully grumbles as you grab your lipstick and compact to check if you need to touch up from the kisses. “Do you want me to put my jacket back on while we cut the cake for the photos?” 

“Up to you,” you shrug at him. “I want you to be happy and look how you want to look in our wedding photos. It’s not all about what I want.” 

“No, I know, I just didn’t know if you had a preference because I don’t really care strongly one way or the other,” Jack explains. “I just want you to be happy.”

You tilt your head at him and give him a small smile. “As long as you’re up there cutting the cake with me Jack, I’m going to be happy. Jacket or not. All I need is you.” Jack makes a little noise of protest and you laugh softly. “Why don’t you leave it off? We have lots of photos of you with it on and I don’t know, you have the jacket off for a reason. Because you got hot while dancing and having fun at our wedding before we even made it to cutting the cake. I like the idea of the photos reflecting that. But truly, it’s up to you.” 

“Alright, I’ll leave it off.” A beat passes and Jack doesn’t quite stifle his smirk fast enough so you catch a glimpse of it. “Do you want me to undo one more button for the photos?” 

Your heart races a bit just at the thought of him with two buttons undone. “That would be very slutty of you Peter,” you hum. 

“Slutty?” Jack barks out a laugh. “Are you saying I’ve looked slutty every time I’ve worn a dress shirt like that?”

“Why do you think I never want you wearing two undone in public? I’d have to fight everyone off.” You shrug.

“So you’re saying I’m a slut?” He raises his eyebrows, amused smile ghosting his lips as he tries to keep it from pulling up. But you can see it, especially in his eyes.

“No.” You shake your head slowly and finish off your champagne, set the empty flute on the table. You lean in close enough for your breath to ghost across his lips, drop your voice to just above a whisper. “I’m saying you’re my slut,” you pull back and give him a dazzling smile, “Dr. Abbot.”

“Jesus,” Jack mutters under his breath, shaking his head and looking away from you. “You’re ending up using your words to achieve it without trying.” You giggle at his reference to your earlier discussion. “Doctor was so on purpose.” 

You tug just sharply enough on the curls at the nape of his neck to pull a little sharp breath from him. “You started it my love, making me think about you with two buttons open. I merely finished it.” You steal a quick kiss from him. “You know you can call me it now.” 

Jack is focusing so intensely on not getting any harder than the semi he currently has that he’s a little too distracted to truly think about your words. His eyebrows raise a little. “Call you what?”

Your eyes flick away from him for a second before returning. You hum softly, the faintest smirk and lean back in close. “Abbot.”

Jack groans low, right from the center of his chest and the sound makes you shiver as you stand up. “No no no, where do do you think you’re going? You don’t get to drop that and run.”

“Yes yes yes. We’re being summoned to cut the cake.” You nod over at where the wedding coordinator is waving you over. 

“Okay, well I’m going to need a minute here,” Jack huffs under his breath. 

“Oh?” You feign innocence. “Something the matter, dear?” Jack looks at you stone faced and shaking his head slightly. “Come on,” you hold your hands out for him. “Just stay behind me until you’re good.” 

“Alright, but don’t ‘accidentally’ lean back into me and rub your ass all over me.” Jack takes your hands and stands, walks a step behind you just to the side when you begin walking. 

“I would never, I can’t believe you’d accuse me of doing such a thing.” You click your tongue at him.

“Ha!” Jack scoffs a laugh. “You would, multiple times. And I’m serious, if you do I’ll have no choice but to drag you to the nearest bathroom.”

You tilt your head and he can feel your smirk even if he can’t see it. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” 

“Oh that’s not a threat Doll,” Jack murmurs, all gravel and lust. He rests a hand on your hip once you arrive in front of the cake and squeezes. “It’s a promise.” 

You glance back up at him and the hunger he’s staring down at you with almost makes you say you need a minute and grab his hand and run to the nearest bathroom. Instead you just stare back at him for a moment before he nods to the cake and you turn back around. 

The cutting itself is fairly quick and easy. Jack’s steady emergency room physician hands are able to hold yours still as you cut into the cake and pull a slice out. He holds the plate as you each feed each other a little bite and kiss once you’re done. There’s no smashing of any kind, you know Jack would never and neither would you. It’s sweet and the love is palpable as your friends and family watch, photographer snapping away. 

The dance floor clears for the most part as everyone grabs cake and takes a breather. You and Jack take your piece and return back to your sweetheart table, but just about as soon as you’re finished you’re dragged back onto the dance floor together by Dana and Parker. 

You and Jack get a little separated but are still pretty close and it’s easy for you to dance your way back over to him. “Hey!” You give him a quick kiss to the cheek. “I’m going to the bathroom. It’ll take a second with the dress. Try not to have too much fun without me.” You wink at Jack before turning around and grabbing your friend’s hand for help with your dress. 

He watches you walk away and link arms with your friend, lean into each other as you walk and giggle together. Jack intends on slinking off the dance floor since he really only wants to be here with you. 

“Nope!” He’s caught by Santos and McKay. “She’ll be back soon enough, you can stay out here with us.” Santos raises her eyebrows at him almost as a little challenge and Jack rolls his eyes but lets them pull him back in. 

He’s always aware of you though, always wants to know where you are in case he needs to get to you immediately. So he sees when you walk out of the bathroom, you and your friend still giggling. He shakes his head and smiles at the two of you, focusing back where he is. 

But when your friend appears without you he looks around. He stops dancing without fully realizing it once he spots you. You’re sitting at a table with a bunch of the men from his unit and their significant others. You feel his gaze on you, you always do, and look over at him, give him a quick wave and a smile but don’t go to move at all, just return to your conversation. 

You had met them before the wedding since they all flew in a day early, had a nice dinner all together, so it’s not like they were literal strangers at your wedding. But still. You don’t have to be over there sitting with them and talking to them and getting to know them. Yet you are. Because like everyone else important in his life you want to do more than just know them cursorily. You want to be friends. You want them to know they’re just as important to you as they are to Jack. You want them to know that they can call you and you’ll help just like Jack would and that your and Jack’s place is open to them whenever they might need. 

“You good?” Dana yells over the music at Jack, grabs a hand to get him dancing again. He smiles and nods at her, his mind still on you and how amazing and perfect you are and how fucking lucky he is. 

A couple of songs pass and Jack watches you and a few of those who you’d been talking with make your way back to the dance floor. Jack manages to slip off the dance floor finally. He walks up to the DJ. “Can you play this song?” He shows the DJ his phone.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’ll play it next.”

“Perfect, thanks.” Jack smiles to himself as he moves around the dance floor to be close enough to you but far enough away that you don’t really see him as you dance.   

The current song ends and everyone is thrown for a second by the instrumental piano opening. It takes you five or six seconds to fully clock it, laughing to yourself and starting to look for Jack when you realize. 

He slips up right behind you, one hand on your waist as his front presses into your back. “Hi, Doll,” he murmurs, the cheeky grin he’s wearing clear in his voice. He presses a teasing kiss to your neck. 

You spin so that you’re chest to chest now, hands going just where they need to so that you can start slightly faster slow dancing. “Hi Peter.” You lean up for a quick kiss. “As Time Goes By. How coincidental.” You arch a brow at him in playful accusation.

“It felt right,” Jack admits to requesting it, shrugging, “since I wouldn’t sing it for you in Paris.” While other couples are dancing the two of you can feel lots of eyes on you. It’s clearly a song that’s playing specifically for you and Jack. He gives you a slightly sly smile and your brows raise in anticipation. “Of all the bookstores in all the towns in all the world, you walked into mine.” 

You press your lips together and smile as you hold back a laugh. “I can’t decide if that was really bad or really good.” You and Jack share a laugh. “It was very romantic. This whole thing, requesting the song and sneaking up behind me, because I know that was deliberate too,” you nod your head a little at him as you say it, “and the line.” Your eyes grow a little glassy at the sentiment. “I like to think we were fated too.” 

“I know we were,” Jack nods, “I know the world brought you to me on purpose.” His eyes are a little glassy now too. 

You push your lips out a little and Jack leans down to kiss you. “I love you,” you murmur against his lips. 

Jack hums a little laugh, lips pulling up into a smile against yours. “I love you too.”

The final hour or so of the wedding goes fast and yet slow. You and Jack both don’t want it to end but at the same time you’re a little desperate to finally be alone together for the night. It’s been a beautiful and perfect long day. Your and Jack’s perfect day. 

You say goodbye to everyone as they all walk over towards the car you and Jack will be leaving in. There’s hugs and a few tears and promises to see each other soon and text and call and send photos from the honeymoon. 

And then you and Jack are finally in the town car and being driven away. 

“That was really the perfect day,” you sigh as you lean into Jack. You’re happy that Robby was able to check you into the hotel earlier before the wedding and drop your stuff so that you and Jack can just run through the lobby to the elevators and get to your room as quick as possible.

“Yes it was.” Jack moves his arm around you and pulls you even closer. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” You tilt your head up as Jack leans down and kisses you. 

It devolves so very quickly. You and Jack makeout effectively the entire rest of the way to the hotel. Jack gropes at your breasts over your dress, sucks bruises into your neck and collarbones and chest now that he finally can again. The last two weeks of being unable to mark you anywhere that could be visible in your dress were torturous even if he understood why and completely respected it. 

You undo another button of his shirt and kiss at his chest, lick your lips to wet your lipstick before you do so that you leave lip prints behind on his chest and his neck. You wrap your hand around Jack as best you can over his pants and rub at him. Both of you happily swallow down the quiet moans you pull from each other, knowing that the screen dividing you from the driver is not soundproof. 

“Do you want to stop?” you pant softly against Jack’s lips, moaning softly as he squeezes one of your breasts and nibbles at your jaw. 

“Why would I ever want to do that?” His lips are back on your neck the second he’s done speaking, kissing and sucking lightly, smiling to himself when you squirm a little from how good it feels. 

“So that you’re not hard walking to the elevator.” You barely get ‘elevator’ out before Jack’s back to kissing you. 

“If you think,” he pauses so that he can kiss you again, “that I’m going to be anything,” another kiss and a nip to your bottom lip, “other than painfully fucking hard for you,” another kiss, “until I’ve finally come inside of you,” Jack groans as your thumb flicks over his head in just the right spot, “come inside my fucking wife,” those words steal your breath even harder and Jack moves to suck on that spot on your neck he knows is extra sensitive, “you’re fucking insane Doll.” 

“Fuck, okay,” you gasp, as he sucks that spot again, “just wanted to check.” 

He hums a thank you against your lips and you continue like you are until the car starts to slow as you arrive at the hotel. Jack’s quick to slide out of the car and then help you out before you both make a walking sprint to the elevator, the late hour meaning the lobby is pretty much empty. You giggle to yourself as Jack presses you up against the wall of the elevator, your very own movie moment. He groans into your mouth in relief a little now that he can finally grind his hips against yours. 

Jack forces himself to pull away from you as the elevator slows to a stop. Robby already gave him instructions to the room so he doesn’t have to stop and read the signs. He laces your fingers together and leads you to the room, fishing the key from his pocket and opening the door. 

Even with as absolutely fucking wired as you both are for each other, the day catches up with you once you step in the room and see the bed in the honeymoon suite of the fancy downtown hotel you’re staying at for the night. You leave for your honeymoon tomorrow. You’re so fucking ready to know where you’re going. 

You’re both tired and there’s a bit of a lull in the making out and groping as you walk in and both look over the room, though Jack stands right behind you, hands squeezing your hips over your dress and keeping your ass flush against him. He sets both of your phones on the dresser next to you before you take a few more steps in so that you’re almost right at the edge of the bed.

“Can I?” Jack leans into you and murmurs against your neck, fingers running over the part of your dress that will let him start to take you out of it. 

“Please,” you breathe, voice shaking just slightly in anticipation. You had decided on no wedding lingerie that required changing, only what would fit under your dress. Jack wanted the opportunity to slowly strip you out of your wedding dress, said it’s something he’ll only get the chance to do once. And what you have on under your dress is pretty, very bridal, while still practical enough to get you through the wedding. But you have lots of lingerie for the honeymoon all in the carry-on suitcase you packed, including a pair of lacy underwear with his name embroidered in the gusset. 

Jack’s hands tremble a little as he starts to get your dress off you. He takes his time, every movement purposeful and designed to tease both of you a little bit, his fingertips ghosting over the skin of your back, lips trailing along your spine and shoulders. He’s careful not to rip anything as he helps the dress fall down your figure and pulls it out from under you once you step out, helps you out of your shoes. He doesn’t let himself look up because he knows if he does he won’t lay your dress out nicely on the couch. You turn as he lays it on the couch so when he turns back to you Jack he’s met with your eyes on him. 

His eyes don’t stay on yours for long though, dropping down and running over your body, stopping for a second at the blue garter on your thigh. 

“I know it’s not proper wedding lingerie, except for the something blue. I suppose it is,” you laugh breathlessly. 

Jack shakes his head slowly. You’re unreal, far and away the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His cock strains against his boxer briefs painfully. “Fuck me,” he groans as he palms himself over his pants, desperate for any friction he can get. “You’re stunning.” Jack walks over to you, pulls his hand off himself only so that he can get his hands on you, let them glide over your bare skin.

“Your turn.” Your trembling hands come to the buttons at Jack’s chest and start unbuttoning them, a few a little more difficult when your hands shake worse as Jack squeezes at your ass and one of your breasts. He pops the clasp of your bra as you finish the last button of his shirt, both of you shrugging out of the items and tossing them aside. Your eyes rake over his chest and arms, pussy throbbing as you do. He’s so handsome you can hardly stand it. “You’re so perfect, Jack.”

You lick your lips to wet your lipstick again and kiss at his collarbones and chest as your nails drag lightly down his stomach. “Fuck,” Jack grunts at the sensation. He rolls one of your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger and kneads at your other breast as your fingers get his belt and pants undone. 

You hook your thumbs in the waistbands of his pants and boxer briefs, rewet your lips and slowly kiss down his stomach and leave lip prints in your wake. “Doll,” Jack husks as you sink to your knees. 

Once you settle on them your thumbs finally drag Jack’s pants and boxer briefs down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach as he shivers. “Peter,” you sigh back at him as you take him in your hand and slowly pump him. Your mouth kisses around the base of him, his balls and inner thighs and lines of his hips, lip prints decorating his skin as Jack groans loudly, eyes unable to leave you. “See?” Your breath fans across his skin as you look up at him through your lashes. “It is your color here.” 

Jack chokes on the laugh your words pull for him when you take his head in your mouth, humming happily as you swirl your tongue around him before taking more of him. “Fucking christ!” Jack grunts, lets his head tip back and eyes flutter closed to focus on the feeling of you bobbing up and down him. 

You hum around him at times, usually when you pull another deep groan from him. You love having Jack in your mouth. Few things make you feel as powerful and sexy. 

Jack’s close. He’s been wound tight for you all day, especially since after the ceremony. He lowers his head back down and opens his eyes. Two fingers hook under your chin. “Up.” 

You pull off him and pout. “Jack,” you whine a little. “Wanna make you come like this.” 

“Next time.” He offers you his hands which you take and stand up. Jack kisses you hard. “The first place I’m coming for my wife is inside her,” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Fuck,” you whimper as Jack starts kissing you again. 

“On the bed,” Jack instructs as he pulls his lips off yours. “If you have anything in your hair, take it out so it won’t hurt you.” You do as he asks, situating your hair and then crawling to the middle of the bed and leaning back on your hands so you can watch him. Jack gets his shoes off and then gets on the bed on his knees. He grabs your feet and holds them up, lips finding one of your ankles and starting to kiss up the inside of your legs, head moving back and forth between both legs until he grows closer to the garter. 

His lips stay on the thigh it’s on, kissing around it. “It’s very pretty,” he murmurs, lips teasing your skin. 

“I thought you’d like it,” you pant.

“Love it Doll.” Jack nibbles at the skin of your inner thigh just below your garter and then takes the material between his teeth and pulls it down off your leg. 

“Fuck Jack!” you moan. It’s such a simple move but the way he keeps his eyes on yours the entire time makes it one of the most erotic things he’s ever done for you. 

He’s quick to make his way back up you, grabs the waistband of your underwear and quickly gets them off. You think he’s going to settle with his face in between your thighs but he doesn’t. He nods at you and you lay back on the bed while he kisses up your tummy and chest, stopping to lavish your breasts with attention from his mouth and hands. “Fucking love your tits,” Jack groans against one of your nipples. You thread your hands through his hair and tug a little as your back arches at the feeling of his tongue swirling around it.  

“Jack, please,” you beg, for what you’re not sure. He just feels too good, his hot skin that’s pressing against yours and his mouth on your breasts. 

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, “I’ve always got you Doll.” Jack kisses his way up your chest to your neck and jaw and then finally your lips. Your legs spread further apart for him and as he makes his way up his right hand slides down and slips between your lips. Jack feels how wet you are the second his middle finger hits your clit. “You’re fucking soaked,” he rasps against your lips, fingers still moving down to feel just how wet you really are. 

“I have been all night,” you admit through a little moan, the palm of his hand rubbing against your clit as his fingers tease your cunt, circling around your entrance but never slipping inside. “For my husband. Have needed you all night.”

“Yeah?” Jack pulls back from you a little. “I’ve needed you too.” His hand pulls away from you and you whine at loss. Jack offers you his index and middle finger, the two most coated in you. You maintain eye contact as you open your mouth and let him slide them inside before you suck them clean, running your tongue up and down each finger, moaning softly. Jack’s hips grind into you without conscious thought, his cock hard and heavy against you. “Such a good girl for me,” he coos as he pulls his fingers from your mouth. “Let me taste you.”

Jack kisses you, licking into your mouth and groaning as he tastes you on your tongue. He shifts a little as he devours you, kissing you with just the right pressure to tease. He doesn’t stop kissing you as the fingers of his left hand trail down you and make you shiver. He’s careful how he does it, keeps all but his fingertips off you until his middle and ring finger tease you again, pressing into you shallowly and withdrawing a few times. “Please Jack!” you keen for him. “Please, need it, need you.”

“Okay, Doll.” Jack’s lips are back on yours as he arches his wrist a little further and slides his two fingers all the way inside of you, curling them perfectly over that spongy spot inside of you.

And you feel it. The cool press of metal against the outside of your pussy. “Jack!” you gasp his name, fingers tugging even harder at the salt and pepper curls you love so much. 

“Yes Doll?” He smirks at you, fingers dragging back out of you before plunging right back in. 

“Your- oh!” Jack steals your breath and your train of thought as he changes his pace and hooks his fingers just a little bit more, fucks you with them a little harder. “Your ring, your wedding ring. I can feel it.” 

“Can you?” Jack hums at you, “Well how about that?” You whimper at his words, know he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing. He kisses you again but it doesn’t last particularly long because the feeling of his ring against you and his fingers fucking you perfectly completely steals your ability to kiss him back in any meaningful way, your mouth hanging open a bit as you let out breathy higher pitched moans with each pass of Jack’s fingers. 

“Jack I need you inside me,” you rush out in a single exhale, still moaning intermittently. “Need it. Your cock. Not your fingers. Please.” One of your hands grabs at the wrist of his left hand to still him. And Jack does stop, smirking a little at your desperation. You take a few breaths before looking Jack in the eyes. “First place I’m coming for my husband is on his cock.”

Jack stills and growls at your words as he pulls his fingers from you, rolling a bit so that he’s back properly on top of you and not rolled to the side slightly. He should have seen that one coming, he set himself right up for it with what he said to you. Jack doesn’t offer you his fingers this time, bringing them to his own mouth and sucking them clean. “God!” he groans as he finishes. “You taste so fucking good. My wife tastes so fucking good.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You nod at him, hands slipping between your bodies and grabbing at his cock, trying in vain to guide him inside of you. “Fuck me Jack, please. Fuck your wife!” Your words make Jack shudder. He pulls back so he can watch as he runs his cock through you, letting out a shuddering breath as he does. “Jack, I need you,” you whine at him. 

“I know, Doll, I know. I need you too.” Jack takes himself in his hand and watches as he lines himself up. His chest heaves slightly as he drags his eyes back up to yours and then pushes into you almost agonizingly slow. “Fuck,” Jack draws the word out as slow as he pushes inside of you, both of you fighting through the pleasure to keep your eyes open. 

“Oh, Jack” you moan softly, “more, please more.” 

Jack groans as he leans down and kisses you, sucking on your bottom lip and pulling it taut as you flutter around him. “Shit, you’re so fucking perfect,” he pants against your lips. “My perfect wife.” His arms slip under your shoulders so his hands can cradle your face as he pulls his hips back just as slow as he pushed into you. 

“My husband.” Your lips graze his as you breathe the words out. You roll your hips in tandem with Jack so that he’s fucking you a little harder, cunt wrapping around him so tight Jack swears it takes a little more force to pull himself out of you. “Fuck Jack!” you mewl, one hand clawing at his shoulder and the other at his ass cheek for a moment before your fingers squeeze at his muscle.

Jack hisses at the feeling, kissing you passionately, tongue exploring your mouth as though he doesn’t already have you memorized. He keeps his pace languid for now, wants to drag this out for the both of you. You love it, wouldn't have it any other way right now as you drown in Jack and his love and this moment.

The room is filled with the lewd wet sound of your pussy and heavy pants against skin as Jack ceases his greediness and lets your tongue into his mouth. He instinctively chuckles a little with how eagerly you take advantage of the opportunity, head lifting off the bed a little for a few seconds as you kiss him.   

As much as he doesn’t want to Jack pulls apart so you both can breathe. “What are you?” He asks through heaving breaths, eyes reflecting how on fire he is for you, practically pinning you to the bed. “Tell me what you are.” 

“Your- fuck Jack!” He changes his rhythm on you just slightly and it has you stuttering. “Your, your wife.” Tears of pleasure start to burn behind your eyes.

“Good girl,” he praises you, words pulling a loud moan from you just like he knew they would. Jack fucks you with his whole body, hunched over and using his hips and back and thighs to drive himself into you, muscles rippling under your fingertips. He can’t get deep enough, can’t feel enough of you, can’t be close enough to you. “That’s fucking right you are. My wife. All fucking mine.” 

“Say it for me,” you plead with Jack, tears of pleasure finally dripping down the sides of your face. “Tell me what you are.” 

Jack laughs softly against your lips as he pulls your legs up around his waist to change the angle. “Your husband,” he rasps at your ear. “I’m your husband.”  

You whine as he says it, trail off into a breathy moan of his name. “Jack!” Your nails claw into his skin, leaving trails of red marks in their wake as one hand slides down his back and the other up his ass cheek to his hip, pulling a choked groan from the back of Jack’s throat. “I’m so close. So close baby, please!” It’s not often you call him baby, and something about the word always makes him short circuit a bit. 

He picks his pace up, snaps his hips a bit harder, sucking and nibbling at your neck as he buries his face there for a moment as he gets lost in the feeling of you, breath hot against your skin. Fucking you and making love to you is always mindblowing, but this is different, this has an edge, for both of you. Because you’re married. Because it feels like your first time all over again in a way. 

“Just like that, yes! Don’t stop!” you moan, voice high-pitched and breathy.

Jack’s just as desperate for your orgasm as you are, breath heavy and hot against your lips. “Come for me Doll, come for me.” Jack’s voice is strained with his desperation, hips driving him into you over and over while his fingers circle your clit. “Come on my cock, come on your husband’s cock. Make me come.” 

“I will, I will,” you cry for him, eyes fluttering closed and sending more tears down your face as the pleasure overwhelms you and builds to a breaking point.

“Look at me,” Jack pants, voice cracking on the last word. “Look at me while you come for your husband.” You force your eyes open and Jack’s staring down at you intensely. “Be my good little wife and come for me.”

His command and the way he’s looking at you like he needs you so desperately he’d do anything for you, like you’re the only thing that matters, like the most beautiful and precious thing to him that he has to protect, and like he needs this, you to come, are more than enough to make you shatter beneath him.

“Jack!” You get a single cry of his name out before all words fall out of your mind, completely overwhelmed by Jack, by your husband, as your orgasm sears through what feels like every nerve in your body. Your nails drag along Jack’s back so hard you might have broken skin in a few places but he doesn’t care, it just shoves him closer to the edge. “Oh fuck Jack, please!” you moan once words return, again unsure of what you’re begging him for.

“Shit! So fucking tight”! Jack struggles to hold himself off, does only for thirty or so seconds so that he can drink in your face as you come for him while he fucks you through it. “My wife’s so fucking tight, so fucking wet for me.” He pulls his hand away from your clit before you hit painful overstimulation. “Fuck, Doll, I’m gonna come, pussy’s squeezing me so tight, gonna come for you, fill you up, and you’ll be so good for me and take it all.” He starts to babble and his hips start to falter, a clear sign he’s right at the edge. 

“Come for me Jack,” you purr at him, hands threading back into his hair and tugging at the root just to give him a little shock of pain opposite the pleasure how you know he loves. You’re looking at Jack much the same as he looked at you, like you love him so much it hurts sometimes, like you’d walk straight through a wall of flames for him. Your love overwhelms him, you overwhelm him. And then you say it as a soft moan and he’s gone. “Come for your wife.”

Jack comes with the most erotic, carnal groan of your name that you’ve ever heard from him. His orgasm rips through him, tears through him so intensely it steals his breath for a moment before a slurry of curse words and my wife and so perfect fall off his tongue like a hymn he’s composed just for you. His hips still but you roll yours up against him and clench around him deliberately. “Fucking shit, Doll! Fuck!” Jack groans, voice and neck and face strained as you prolong his orgasm, somehow pull a bit more cum from him. 

“Feels so good when you come in me,” you hum all pleasure-drunk and breathy at Jack. Your face matches your voice. You look so fucked out and beautiful below him, his girl. His woman. His wife. 

“Oh fuck!” Jack grunts, a shiver running up his spine hard as an aftershock hits him. “Fuck, Doll, you’re so fucking good.” He collapses on top of you carefully. 

You tremble under him a little, arms and legs wrapping around him and holding him to you tight. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Abbot.” It’s almost a little slurred as you come back down from your orgasm.

Another shiver races up Jack’s spine at doctor. “Never had a title kink before you.” His lips brush against your chest as he speaks before nuzzling against you. It’s not the first time he’s told you that, but you still love to hear it.

You can only hum in acknowledgment, let your hands find his hair and run through his curls, scratch at his scalp intermittently. The two of you lay there in a comfortable silence, murmuring soft words to each other. Jack nuzzles into you and kisses at your chest wherever he can reach, enjoys listening to your heartbeat and how it slowly returns to something closer to normal. 

After a while Jack nuzzles into your chest one last time before pulling his head up. You open your eyes knowing he’ll be looking down at you. He’s smiling when he comes into focus. “How’s my wife?”

“I’m pretty fucking great,” you murmur, blissed out smile on your face. “Feeling very, very well and thoroughly fucked by my husband. A little sleepy.” You bring your hand up and run your fingers through Jack’s curls, push back a few that sweat has stuck to his forehead. “How’s my husband?”

Jack chuckles at you. You’re so adorable when you’re all fucked out like this. “Oh, I’m pretty fucking great too, Doll.” He leans down and kisses you. “Feeling very, very lucky to call you my wife. And I’m with you on the sleepy.” 

You already know what he’s going to say based on the look on his face. “No!” you whine, wrap your arms and legs around him tight. “Let’s just stay right here. It’ll be fine this one time, we can just curl up like this and fall asleep.”

Jack laughs and shakes his head at you. “I’m not sure now’s the time to risk it, baby. You don’t want to start our honeymoon with a UTI.” He takes another kiss. “And we both know you’ll be upset with yourself in the morning if you don’t take all your makeup off. Plus I should really wipe the lipstick off.” 

You groan but loosen your grip on him when he pulls away, both of you hissing a little as he slips out of you. Jack holds his hands out for you and helps you up and off the bed. His hands find a hip and your waist quickly once you’re standing, ready to grab you and keep you from falling if your legs are too weak. You lean into him for just a second while you get your legs steady back under you and then nod at Jack. 

He keeps an arm around your waist anyway, just to keep you close. You realize step into the bathroom and Jack flicks the light on, leads you over to the toilet. He walks to the sink as you go to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and wiping the lipstick from his skin. 

You join him when you’re done, washing your hands as he washes his face. You make a face of consideration as he pats his face dry. “I could just leave it for one night, I’m tired.”

Jack shakes his head at you and you know he’s right, you’re just not in the mood. It’s been a long day and you just want to curl up in bed with your husband. Jack puts a towel on the sink counter, and pats it. “Up.” 

You debate fighting him because you know what’s about to happen. But you also know that Jack loves this part and it’s not something that happens frequently because you normally take your makeup off as soon as you get home. You slide yourself onto the towel as Jack pulls out your makeup remover wipes from the toiletry bag you packed. “Probably going to have to scrub pretty good,” you tell him, “she used the good setting spray.” 

Jack nods as he starts to wipe your face. “Very good setting spray,” he notes absentmindedly as he works. He does have to use more pressure than normal. “Tell me if I start hurting you.” 

“I will, but you won’t.” You give him a sleepy smile and Jack’s heart aches with how cute you are. 

Once he’s gotten everything off your face he’s weary as he eyes your lashes. “Are these the lashes designed to stay on or? How do I get them off?”

“You’re so cute,” you giggle at him, beaming at him because they’re such Jack questions. He’s always curious, especially when it comes to you and things he can do to take care of you. 

“What?” he drags the word out. “I don’t want to accidentally rip off all your eyelashes!”

“I know, you’re just the cutest, wanting to know. Caring enough to want to know.” You push your lips out and he gives you the quick kiss you’re seeking. “These ones aren’t designed to stay on, no. There’s some cotton balls and makeup remover in the bag. Just put some on two of them and hold them on for a minute and they should peel right off.”

“Can do, Doll.” Jack nods. He does and goes to take them off but hesitates. “Okay, maybe you should at least do one. So I can see.” 

Even with your eyes closed you smirk. “See one, do one, teach one?” Jack huffs at you and you know he’s rolling his eyes. “You have to admit that was pretty good.” You slowly peel one off. 

“It was,” Jack agrees with fake begrudging. He loves it. Loves how you listen and really take in what he says whether it’s when he’s directly speaking to you or if you happen to be watching him from just within earshot at work. “Okay. Please tell me if you feel me pulling your actual lashes.” 

“Were you this scared when you first did sutures on someone?” 

“Doll.”

“Yes, yes I’ll tell you,” you reassure him.

“Okay.” Jack grabs the other lash and pulls it off without issue, like you knew he would. 

“See? Nothing to it.” You squint at him to avoid getting the makeup remover in your eyes. “We’ll make you a makeup artist yet, Peter.” Your squinting kills any power the smirk you try to give him might have had.

He ignores your comment with a little shake of his head and smile. “To answer your question, no, I wasn’t because you spend time practicing on fake skin before you go to a real human.”

You hum at him and slip off the counter. It’s going to be easier and quicker for you to wash your face and brush your teeth. “Thank you. For taking my makeup off and learning about eyelashes for me. I love you.” You wrap your arms around the middle of him and rest your head on his chest. 

“Always, Doll.” Jack bows his head and leans a little to press his lips to the top of your head. “And I love you too.” 

The two of you stand like that for a moment before you pull away and quickly wash your face before you and Jack brush your teeth at the same time. You say fuck it to your skin care for one night and just put some face lotion on, offer some to Jack. Once you’re done Jack turns around and after a second you do too. 

Your stomach drops a little. “Oh my god Jack!” His back is covered in scratches from your nails that are really more raised welts at this point. It looks incredibly painful and your head starts to spin because you feel so bad for doing that to him.

“What?” He spins quickly, brows furrowed and lips pulled down, concern all over his face. 

“Your back! That’s what!” You gesture with your finger and he spins for you again. “Jack, it has to hurt. Why didn’t you say anything?”

He turns back to look at you. He doesn’t like your expression, the sadness in your eyes and your frown and the way your brows are furrowed so close together. You’re upset and Jack can tell your mind is starting to swirl. “Hey, hey hey. I promise you I didn’t even notice. I promise. I wouldn’t have even known if you hadn’t said anything.”

“But Jack, it’s bad. I did a good number to you. They’re welts, not just scratches.” Your frown deepens. 

He steps closer to you and cups your face with his hands. “Doll, I promise you it felt so fucking good when you were making them in the moment but they haven’t bothered me at all since.” 

“You promise?” you whisper. You know he would never lie to you and you can see the earnestness in his eyes. It slows your mind, as do his hands holding your face.

“I promise.” He nods. His eyes drop to your neck and chest, hands letting go of your face. “Have you really looked in the mirror yet Doll?”

“Kind of?” Your brows are still drawn together but Jack’s relieved it’s in confusion this time and that your upset has faded. 

“You should. Because I did a good number on your neck and chest too,” Jack grimaces a little. “And it feels much worse than some scratches now that I’m really looking at them.”

You turn and look in the mirror. “Oh,” you breathe. Jack’s head starts to spin now. But then a smile grows on your face. “I love this.” You run your fingertips over some of them. 

“What?” Jack gives a small incredulous laugh. 

You turn around to look at him and see the way he’s still spinning out a little like you were. “Jack, I love this shit. I love wearing your marks. And you gave me them as my husband and I get to have them on our honeymoon.”

“They’ll darken and be worse tomorrow.” He still eyes you a little wearily. 

You meet his eyes in the mirror, can see he’s still spinning out a little like you were. “Good. I hope they get darker the day after that.”

“Yeah?” It’s the same as you asking if he promised. He knows you wouldn’t lie and can tell you’re not but he just needs to hear it again. 

“Yeah.” You nod with a small smile. “Very fucking yeah.”

That makes him crack a smile, yours widening in turn, his mind slowing. You turn back to face him. “Are they going to be all on display for the honeymoon?” You press yourself up against him. 

Jack laughs. You’re trying to get a hint as to where you’re going on your honeymoon, hoping he’ll answer and it’ll give you insight as to whether you’ll be spending a lot of time with your chest not covered by a shirt in a swimsuit. 

He gives you a self-satisfied grin and you start pouting before he even says anything. “That’s for me to know and you to find out babygirl.”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately but it turns into a big yawn that has you covering your mouth. Jack laughs softly. “Come on sleepy girl, lets get into bed.” He fights back his own yawn while following you as you walk back to bed, flicking the light off. 

You climb in under the covers while Jack sits on the edge of the bed and takes his prosthetic off. Once it’s off he flips the lamp off and slides in beside you, hands on your waist and pulling you close as you move toward him. You snuggle together on your sides, limbs tangling as you get as close as possible while still able to see each other. “Hi handsome.” You smile up at Jack and kiss up his chest and neck to his lips. 

“Hi beautiful,” Jack murmurs against your lips. “My beautiful wife. Today was pretty perfect.” Jack takes another couple of kisses from you before pulling away and looking back at you. He swallows thickly. “A little surreal. We’re married.” He’s not dwelling, he’s really not.

But Jack lived in a world where he never even got to ask you to marry him, where he wore his dress blues not to wait for you at the end of an aisle on an altar but to watch them lower you six feet into the ground, even if it was only in his mind. He just has to acknowledge it one last time. It makes him appreciate this, appreciate you all the more. 

“Sure was. My handsome husband.” You giggle against Jack’s lips. “But it’s real. We’re married.” You look at Jack and smile as he smiles back at you. 

Your smiles and crinkles in the corners of your eyes say everything to each other. Thank you, you’re perfect, you’re my best friend and soulmate and the love of my life, you’re my everything, my whole world and my home, I meant every word I said today and will be faithful to the vows we took. I love you. 

Your eyelids get heavy fast as Jack’s warmth seeps into you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. You can only fight it for so long as it gets harder and harder to open your eyes with every slow blink. There’s so much you want to say to him even now at the end of your wedding day when it feels like you’ve already said it all to each other. But there’s no way you’ll get anything coherent out. So you kiss Jack one more time and settle for the words you hope convey it all.

“I love you, Peter.” 

Jack hums a little laugh to himself because you’re adorable and precious and beautiful and his. His wife.

“I love you more, Doll.”

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

If you made it this far, again, thank you so so much! I hope you enjoyed this part and the series. As much as this is the end of the kind of main story, I don’t think this is truly the end for them. Certainly I have a whole list of other ideas that I’d like to work through first, but I have a couple of ideas for shorter one-shot style fics for these two. If you have anything in particular you'd like to see from them feel free to drop me a note wherever!! And I would love to hear your comments and thoughts on Part 5 and their ending!♥️

Quiet Part 2 is up next. I should have more free time this week and don't plan on making those parts as long so hopefully something will be out towards the end of the week!

Also, a huge huge shoutout to @loveyhoneydovey for beta-ing at times, talking me off a thousand ledges per part, and listening to me go on and on about these two and different ideas. This story is better because of your help. ♥️

Want more Jack? Find my masterlist here!

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★ — It was a bad idea

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 : ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜᴘ

ʙꜱꜰꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | 8.1ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

TAGS : hatefucking, sexual objectification of lesbianism, height difference, porn with plot, dub con, drunk sex, messy, angst, A LOT OF SMUT, strap-on, fingering, oral

A/N : hopeless lesbians

Summary : You and Sevika, Your bestfriends sister. fall into a messy, secret fling that was never supposed to happen. What starts as a one-time mistake quickly spirals into something neither of you can control. Now you're both pretending not to care—while wanting each other more than ever.

PROLOGUE NOVEMBER 

The house was dark and too quiet. Somewhere upstairs, your best friend was snoring like she always did—mouth open, dead to the world. You’d tossed and turned for hours before finally giving up, slipping out from the guest bed and creeping down the stairs in nothing but your oversized tank top and cotton sleep shorts.

You just wanted a glass of water. Maybe some cereal. Something to kill time until your brain shut up and let you rest.

You didn’t expect her to be in the kitchen.

Sevika.

Standing in front of the open fridge in the dim glow of the appliance light, like some kind of fucking vision. Barefoot. Shirtless. Her broad back curved as she leaned forward, sweatpants slung low on her hips—dangerously low—and a black sports bra clinging tight across her chest. One hand on the fridge door, the other lifting the milk carton straight to her mouth.

You froze in the doorway.

She didn’t look at you at first. Just tipped the carton back, throat working as she drank, her scars catching silver-blue in the dim light. You saw the flex in her jaw, the lazy tilt of her head. Saw the moment she noticed you and still—still didn’t stop drinking.

Her eyes dragged over you when she finally lowered the carton.

“You lost or just thirsty?” she asked, voice low and dry with sleep. Her lips were wet.

You scoffed and crossed your arms, ignoring the way your tank top rode up a little higher when you did. “I could ask you the same thing. What, they don’t sell cups in this house?”

“Didn’t realize the guest was gonna police my drinking habits.” She leaned back against the counter, milk carton dangling from two fingers, and smirked like she was already ten steps ahead of you. “Didn’t realize you were gonna show up dressed like that, either.”

You looked down—thin fabric, no bra, bare legs.

“Didn’t realize you were gonna ogle your little sister’s best friend.”

That smirk twitched. “Please. You’ve been dying for me to look since you were sixteen.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Sevika rolled her eyes and stepped closer. “Don’t act surprised. You used to blush every time I looked at you. Couldn’t even say my name without stuttering.”

You laughed once, sharp. “Yeah, maybe back when I was a dumb little kid. But not now.”

“No?” She was right in front of you now. Big, barefoot, heat pouring off her like static. “’Cause you’re looking at me like you still want me to ruin you.”

Your breath caught, stomach dropping in that sick, electric way you’d always hated.

“I came down for water.”

She leaned in, mouth by your ear. “Then drink.”

You turned your head. “Maybe I’ll take the milk. Since you got your filthy mouth all over it.”

She grinned, teeth bared. “Thought you liked it filthy.”

It was so fast you didn’t even register who moved first. One second you were toe-to-toe, and the next her hand was on your hip, your back slammed against the fridge door with a thud. Milk carton hit the floor and rolled.

Your hands flew up to push her off—but you didn’t. Not really.

She leaned in closer, breath hot against your cheek. “Tell me to stop.”

You glared at her. “Go to hell.”

That was enough.

She kissed you like a challenge—like a punishment—teeth clashing, hands rough as they slid down to grab the backs of your thighs and lift. You gasped, arms wrapping tight around her shoulders as she carried you out of the kitchen like you weighed nothing.

The hallway blurred past.

Then the laundry room door slammed shut behind you.

“Sevika—”

“Quiet,” she growled, slamming you against the washer. “Unless you want your little friend to wake up and see how filthy you really are.”

She shoved your tank top up, teeth grazing your ribs. You hissed, fingers digging into her shoulders.

“You think I didn’t notice?” she muttered, dragging her tongue across your stomach. “Strutting around this house. Bending over in those tiny little shorts. Smirking like you own me.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” she said, biting the inside of your thigh. “And now you get what you wanted.”

You groaned, back arching off the cold metal. “You talk a lot of shit for someone who came in less than five minutes last time.”

Her head snapped up. Her eyes—dark, mean, gleaming.

“You’re gonna regret that,” she said.

She dropped to her knees.

You didn’t regret a thing.

You didn’t come down for this.

You weren’t supposed to let this happen.

But your hands were in her hair and your legs were over her shoulders, and Sevika didn’t stop—not when you gasped her name, not when your back arched so hard you knocked over the detergent bottle, not even when you bit down on your own fist to keep from screaming.

She stayed on her knees like she was starving for you. Like she hated you for it. Like you owed her this.

When it was over, she stood slowly, face flushed, mouth wet, eyes sharp and ruined at the same time. Her hands stayed on your thighs for a beat too long, like she wasn’t ready to let go. Like she might pull you back down and do it all over again.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she leaned against the dryer, grabbed the cigarette tucked behind her ear, and lit it like she hadn’t just made you fall apart in a fucking laundry room.

You tugged your tank top down, throat burning. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

She exhaled smoke without looking at you. “You love it.”

You slid off the washer and almost stumbled—legs still jelly. Sevika caught your arm without thinking. Her touch was firm, gentle.

Too gentle.

You yanked away. “Don’t.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What, now you wanna play innocent?”

You didn’t answer. You just bent down, grabbed your stupid shorts off the floor, and shoved your way past her toward the door. Her voice followed you.

“Don’t act like you didn’t want this, sweetheart.”

You turned back. Your hand on the knob, eyes blazing. “I didn’t want this.”

She just looked at you. Silent. Still smoking. Like she knew you were lying.

Like she wasn’t.

You slipped upstairs like a ghost, into your best friend’s room—back under the covers, heart still pounding, skin still flushed with Sevika’s touch. You stared at the ceiling. At the cracks. At the dark.

You didn’t sleep.

And in the morning, when you came downstairs for real this time—hair brushed, socks on, fake-smiling at your best friend pouring cereal—Sevika was already at the table. Sitting there like nothing happened.

She didn’t look at you.

But when her knee brushed yours under the table, slow and deliberate?

You didn’t move away.

You never did.

And that was the problem.

Because two hours later, you were back in her arms—this time behind the closed door of her bedroom, pressed up against the inside of it with your nails dragging down her back and your breath caught on a sob you didn’t want her to hear.

And Sevika? Sevika kissed you like you were a drug she hated herself for craving.

Like she wanted to ruin you a little more every time.

And maybe you let her.

Maybe you liked it.

But the worst part? The part you really don’t talk about? Is that it didn’t start that way.

Not really.

It started with a smile. A party you didn’t want to go to. A girl you hadn’t seen in two years just showing up like that.

It started with a stupid little comment and the slow, slow burn of a match you didn’t know you’d lit.

So yeah. Now you’re standing here with her knee between your thighs under a breakfast table like it’s normal. Like you didn’t spend all night pretending she wasn’t the best mistake you’ve ever made.

But back then?

Back then, you were just an innocent girl.

And she was just your best friend’s sister.

MAY

You glared at your reflection in the mirror, tugging at the hem of your tank top like it would magically make you feel better about being dragged to this party.

“I hate people,” you muttered, leaning closer to smear a little black eyeliner under your lashes. “I hate beer. I hate sticky counters. And I hate this playlist.”

Behind you, your best friend was already sprawled across her bed, vape tucked between her lips as she scrolled mindlessly through her phone. She didn’t even look up.

“You hate everything, dramatic ass,” she said, voice flat. “But you’re still going.”

“I’d rather stay home.”

“It’s my graduation party.”

“Exactly.”

She rolled her eyes and finally sat up, yanking the vape from her mouth with a sigh. “You’re not skipping it just ‘cause you’re in one of your moods. We both survived high school. We deserve to be drunk and messy about it.”

You turned to face her, arms crossed. “You deserve to be drunk and messy. I deserve to eat Hot Cheetos in bed and fall asleep to true crime like a civilized adult.”

She laughed. “Okay, Grandma.”

You gave her a look. “I’m serious. What’s even the point? Everyone’s just gonna get shitfaced and pretend they like each other until someone pukes in the downstairs bathroom.”

��And you’ll be hot and mysterious in the corner like you always are.”

“Hot and mysterious doesn’t mean I want to be there.”

“God, would you listen to yourself?” She climbed off the bed, padding over in her fuzzy socks to stand beside you. “You know what your problem is?”

“Enlighten me.”

“You’ve been a bad bitch for, like, a year now and you still haven’t gotten laid. It’s tragic.”

Your face flushed instantly. “I’ve been busy!”

“Doing what?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

She grinned, wild and wicked. “Exactly.”

You flipped her off. “Not everyone wants to hook up with football guys in the back of their trucks, okay?”

“Well, maybe if you wore something that said ‘please rail me behind a Denny’s,’ you’d have better luck.”

You were about to protest again when she suddenly darted to her laundry hamper, digging through a pile of half-clean clothes before triumphantly yanking something black and slinky free.

“Oh no,” you said, already backing away.

“Oh yes.”

She held it up. A dress. Or the vague suggestion of one—short, tight, borderline illegal.

You stared. “That’s a shirt.”

She grinned around the mouthpiece of her vape. “It’s a dress. I’ve worn it to church.”

“You have not.”

“Fine. I wore it to a concert. And I didn’t wear panties either.”

“Ew.”

“Exactly. Now put this on.” She tossed it at you with a wicked little smirk and blew a cloud of mango vapor in your face. “You’ve got the tits for it now.”

You caught the fabric midair, still frowning but already turning toward the mirror again.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like parties. Not really. You’d just… changed. A lot.

A year after Sevika left for college, something in you flipped. The braces came off, the acne cleared, your curves filled in all at once. You stopped apologizing so much. Stopped waiting for someone to notice you.

People noticed now. Everyone but her.

Sevika hadn’t been home since she moved out three years ago. No holiday visits, no texts. Just a vague shadow in the back of your memory—hoodies, combat boots, the scratch of her voice. Her constant teasing. The way she used to ruffle your hair and call you “kid.”

The house was packed now—bass shaking the floors, the air thick with weed smoke and sweat, and someone was definitely making out on the pool table.

You pushed your way back in from the yard, wiping lip gloss from your mouth with the back of your hand and still trying to remember the name of the guy you'd just made out with in the downstairs bathroom. Brandon? Bradley? Whatever.

You were buzzing. Body warm, head a little floaty. The dress Riley made you wear was riding up again and you didn’t even bother pulling it down.

You found her in the living room, laughing with someone tall, broad, and shadowed under the dim ceiling light. You didn’t recognize the profile at first—not through the blur of movement and cheap LED glow.

“Hey,” you called out, nudging Riley’s shoulder. “I just made out with some dude in your parents' bathroom. He tasted like Fireball and had, like, so much tongue.”

Riley snorted and slung an arm around your waist, pulling you in close, still laughing, face a little pink from whatever jungle juice she’d been downing.

“Sis,” she said, turning you both toward the other figure. “You know who this is?”

You blinked, lips parted, too tipsy to track the shift in her tone.

Then the other girl turned to face you fully.

And your stomach dropped.

You recognized that jaw. That scar. That deadpan stare that always made you feel like she could see through you, even when you were twelve and trying to sneak vodka into your root beer.

Sevika.

Your throat went dry.

She looked so different. Broader. Taller, somehow. A little more ink, a little less patience. Her eyes dragged down your frame—slow, unreadable—and then back up to your face like she wasn’t in any kind of rush.

Riley grinned between you. “You remember Sev, right?”

“Thought her flight wasn’t until next week,” you said dumbly.

“She surprised me!” Riley laughed, smacking Sevika’s arm playfully. “Just showed up at the front door like a creep! I was wearing a towel!”

Sevika rolled her eyes, finally taking the red Solo cup from her sister’s hand and draining the rest of it like it was water.

“I’m not drunk yet,” she muttered, licking her lips once before lifting her gaze to yours. “That’s Y/N.”

She said it so casually.

Like your name didn’t sound heavy in her mouth. Like her eyes hadn’t already dropped to your thighs when you weren’t looking. Like you hadn’t spent three years wondering what it would be like to see her again—and now you were here, wearing a dress that could barely pass as a shirt, pupils blown from weed and nerves, still catching up to the fact that she was real.

That she was here.

You felt yourself swallow hard. And Sevika noticed.

She didn’t smirk. Didn’t tease. She just looked at you.

Like maybe she did remember.

And maybe she regretted coming home at all.

The living room had thinned out a bit. Someone had passed out half-on, half-off the couch, and the playlist had somehow looped back to early 2000s hits no one wanted to admit they knew every word to.

You were slumped in a kitchen barstool now, legs crossed, drink forgotten in your lap as your eyes wandered lazily around the room—landing and lingering on her.

Sevika stood near the counter, one arm braced against it, the other curled loosely around a red cup. The neckline of her black tee was loose, exposing the sharp cut of her collarbone and a flash of ink near her shoulder. She looked good. Too good. And worse? She knew it.

You didn’t realize you were staring until she looked over at you with a lopsided grin.

“You good over there, lightweight?”

Your eyes narrowed, head tilting. “Excuse you?”

She pushed off the counter and strolled over, the heavy thud of her boots somehow louder than the music. She stopped in front of you, towering just a little, smirking down like a damn bully.

“You’ve had, what? Two drinks and a hit off Riley’s vape, and you’re already zoning out like a toddler after cake.”

“I’m not zoning out,” you said, defensively poking her stomach. “I’m observing.”

“Sure. Observing the fridge. Real deep.”

“I’m multitasking, asshole.”

That earned a laugh from her—low and raspy, not unkind. “You’re so faded you almost walked into the screen door earlier.”

“That screen door was invisible, okay?” you said, standing up just to glare at her properly. “It’s a design flaw.”

“Oh my god,” Sevika muttered, taking a sip from her cup and shaking her head. “You’re so full of shit.”

“And you’re so full of yourself,” you shot back, wobbling a little as you pointed at her. “What’s it like being the main character all the time?”

She raised a brow. “What’s it like being this fucking annoying?”

You gasped—gasped, like she’d insulted your mother. “I am delightful.”

“You’re a menace.”

“You’re mean!”

“You’re high.”

You squinted up at her, swaying slightly. “You’re hot.”

That shut her up.

Just for a second.

Her smirk faltered. Her jaw ticked. Her eyes flicked down to your mouth and then right back up again—sharp, unreadable.

You blinked. Realized what you’d said. Realized you didn’t even regret it.

“See?” you mumbled, shrugging and flopping back onto the stool. “You’re quiet now.”

“Not quiet,” she said, voice rougher. She set her cup down and leaned forward, palms on the counter beside your legs. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” you teased, heart in your throat now.

“Not as dangerous as you in that dress.”

You stilled.

Her eyes didn’t waver. “You know what you’re doing.”

Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t.

But either way, you weren’t backing down.

“Good,” you whispered. “It’d be a shame if you missed it.”

You didn’t mean to start something.

But there was no denying the way she was looking at you now—like she was debating whether to shove you back against the counter or walk away before she did something really stupid.

She chose neither.

Instead, Sevika pushed off the counter, grabbed her drink, and mumbled, “You need water.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re cooked. Come on.”

She didn’t wait for you to argue, just turned and headed for the hallway without a glance back. You stared after her for a second, dumbfounded, then reluctantly slid off the stool and followed. Your thighs stuck to the fake leather. You were still pulling your dress down when you caught up with her.

She stopped at the kitchen sink, filled a glass, and shoved it toward you.

“Drink.”

You frowned. “You’re bossy.”

“And you’re dehydrated.”

Still, you took the glass. Mostly because you were thirsty—and not just in the literal way. You drank a little too fast, water running down the side of your mouth. Sevika didn’t say anything, just watched with that same unreadable stare.

Then she said, “Come with me.”

You opened your mouth to sass her again, but she was already walking. Down the hall, past the bathroom, and toward the sliding door that led out to the back deck. You followed without thinking. The air outside was cooler now, the night quieter. Most of the party was inside or upstairs. You could still hear bass, muffled behind glass.

Sevika sat on one of the deck chairs and lit a cigarette. She didn’t offer you one.

You stood awkwardly, arms folded. “So… you just wanted me to hydrate and vibe out here with you?”

“Yeah.”

You laughed once. “That’s weirdly wholesome for someone who used to throw lit bottle rockets at me.”

She snorted. “You were annoying.”

“You were an asshole.”

Sevika took a long drag, exhaled slow. “Still am.”

You shifted, legs cold now under the too-short dress. “So why’d you bring me out here?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Then: “Because if you stayed in there, you were gonna do something stupid.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I wasn’t gonna do anything—”

“You already made out with some guy you don’t even remember.”

“That was fun.”

“No it wasn’t.”

You took a step toward her. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you acting like you do?”

Her eyes flicked up to yours. For a second, neither of you moved.

And then she said, “Because I know what you’re doing.”

That shut you up.

Sevika leaned back, cigarette dangling from her lips. “You walk in wearing that dress. You push. You prod. You want a reaction. You want me to look.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

“Truth is?” she said, voice low now. “I’ve been trying not to.”

Silence fell like a drop of rain before a storm.

You stared at her. At the curve of her mouth. The smoke in her breath. The shadow on her cheek.

You could’ve kissed her right then.

But you didn’t.

You just sat down beside her, pulled your knees up to your chest, and whispered:

“…I didn’t think you’d come back.”

She didn’t answer. But after a long moment, she passed you the cigarette.

You took it without a word.

It started with a look.

You didn’t even remember what sparked the argument—something Sevika said in that low, judgmental tone that always rubbed you raw. Something about you not thinking things through. About you not knowing what you wanted.

“I do know what I want,” you’d snapped, standing now, your voice rising. “I’m not some stupid little kid anymore.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

That did it.

You stormed off, dress clinging to your hips, heart hammering in your throat. The sliding door slammed shut behind you as you made your way through the crowd, ignoring the blur of music and sweat and someone puking into a Solo cup behind the couch. You needed something to shut your brain up, to pull you out of that spiral Sevika always shoved you into.

So when you saw the circle forming in the living room—half-drunk friends laughing, a bottle already spinning—you didn’t think.

You just dropped down into the half-empty spot, tucking your legs beneath you and leaning back on your palm like nothing was wrong. Like you weren’t still burning from that fight.

It was stupid. Childish. But that was the point, wasn’t it?

Just one last dumb game before everyone scattered for college, jobs, whatever came after this summer. One last reckless night to feel something sharp and messy and unforgettable.

The bottle spun. People laughed. A few weak kisses happened. Someone dared a guy to take a body shot off a watermelon.

And then—

A girl spun it.

You didn’t even know her that well. Something-Ashley. Hair pulled up in a loose bun, crop top riding high. The bottle slowed… and stopped, pointing right at you.

The group lit up.

“Oooooh!” “Damn, Y/N!” “She’s hot, though—do it!”

You smiled, sweet and slow, letting your eyes drift across the circle… and land on her.

Sevika.

Standing at the edge of the room with her arms crossed over her chest, eyes locked on you. Her jaw clenched. Her shoulders tense. That vein in her neck ticking like a warning.

You turned back to Ashley.

“C’mere,” you said with a shrug.

The girl grinned and leaned in—and you kissed her.

Soft at first. A little shy, a little playful. But then her hand slid into your hair, and your mouth opened, and the kiss turned hot. Messy. Full-on intentional.

The guys went feral.

“HOLY SHIT.” “YESSS.” “Fucking hell—keep going!”

But you didn’t hear them. Not really.

You kissed her harder. Not because she was a girl. Not for the attention. Not for the game.

But because you knew Sevika was watching.

And then she wasn’t.

You caught the movement out of the corner of your eye—her turning sharply, pushing through the crowd, vanishing down the hallway without a word.

You pulled away from Ashley, breath uneven. She blinked at you, lips pink, dazed and clearly questioning every label she’d ever used.

You wiped your mouth.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, standing up. “You’re great. That was just…”

You didn’t finish.

You left them sitting there—Ashley with her fingers still tangled in the hem of her shirt, and the rest of the group laughing like nothing had just cracked open and spilled across the carpet.

You pushed through the kitchen. Past the bathroom line. Down the hall.

You had no idea where Sevika went.

But you were going to find her.

And this time?

You weren’t going to walk away.

The hallway was dim, quiet compared to the chaos still thumping through the rest of the house. You passed the old family photos like a ghost—Riley in braces, Sevika in a high school jersey, both of them years younger and smiling.

You reached the last door on the left.

It was cracked open.

You pushed it gently, just enough to see inside.

Sevika was sitting on the edge of the bed—her old bed, now draped in fresh sheets like it hadn’t been abandoned for three years. Her elbows were on her knees, one hand sliding down her face as she muttered something low under her breath.

You stepped inside before she noticed.

“I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

She looked up sharply.

Her eyes were darker now. Jaw set. That hand dropped from her face and curled into a fist against her thigh.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

You flinched but shut the door behind you anyway. “Look, I know that was stupid—”

“You think this is about the game?” Her voice was low, dangerous. “It’s not about who you kissed.”

You crossed your arms. “Then what?”

She stood suddenly, towering, and you instinctively stepped back—but only a little.

“You think waving your ass around in that dress and making out with the first girl who looks at you is cute? That it makes you look grown?”

Your stomach dropped.

“I wasn’t doing it for them.”

She scoffed, venom thick in her voice. “You weren’t doing it for her either.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Sevika’s nostrils flared. She paced once, fingers dragging through her hair. “You used your body to impress a room full of drunk guys who don’t give a fuck about you. That’s what you want? Attention from assholes who only see tits and lip gloss?”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

“You act like you’re some untouchable tease, and the second people look, you fold.”

That hit. You felt it in your gut—shame and heat and fury rising all at once.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

“You wish.”

And then it exploded.

You shoved her chest with both hands. Hard.

She barely moved.

She grabbed your wrists before you could pull back, spinning you around and slamming your back against the door with a thud. Her breath hit your face, fast and hot.

“You think this is a game?”

You glared at her, chest heaving. “You’re just mad you weren’t the one I kissed.”

She didn’t respond.

She grabbed your jaw and kissed you.

Hard.

Teeth clashed. Your nails scraped down her arms. Her thigh pressed between yours, pinning you there like she’d waited years for this.

You whimpered against her mouth and felt her smirk—like she’d won something. Like she always did.

But you kissed her back anyway.

Your fingers found the hem of her shirt. Hers yanked your dress higher. There was no rhythm—just heat, collision, punishment wrapped in need.

You pulled back first, panting. “I hate you.”

“Say it again,” she growled, mouth on your neck now. “Say it while you’re dripping for me.”

You moaned—soft, furious, undone.

And then you kissed her again.

Because you didn’t want to stop. Because you couldn’t. Because this was so, so wrong.

And you’d never wanted anything more.

You didn’t even make it to the bed.

Sevika spun you back against the door, and this time when her hands caught your hips, she didn’t hesitate. She grabbed—fingers bruising, nails digging into the soft skin just above your thighs as she hauled your leg up around her waist and shoved her knee higher between yours.

You gasped, head tipping back to hit the wood with a dull thud. “Fuck—”

“Yeah?” Sevika’s voice was thick, dark, breath hot against your cheek. “This what you wanted, baby?”

You whined and tried to pull her closer, but she caught your wrists again—pinned them above your head with one hand while the other slid up under your dress. Your breath hitched when her fingers grazed your soaked panties.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, almost to herself. “You’re dripping.”

You squirmed, hips jerking up against her touch. “Please.”

“Oh, now you’re polite.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snapped, and that was all it took.

She let go of your wrists and yanked your panties to the side with one hand, the other gripping your jaw as she shoved two fingers inside you—fast. Deep. Like she already knew the exact angle that would make you moan like that.

You nearly collapsed.

She didn’t let you.

She held you up with the weight of her thigh and the thick stretch of her fingers fucking into you, slow and then suddenly not slow at all. Her mouth found your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark, then soothing it with her tongue.

“God,” you gasped, hips stuttering. “Sevika—”

“I’ve got you,” she growled. “Fuck, I’ve got you.”

She curled her fingers just right and your legs shook. You clung to her shirt, clawed at her back, buried your face in her shoulder so no one would hear you fall apart.

But she felt it.

The way your walls clenched, how your moans turned to sobs, how your body shuddered around her hand.

“That's it,” she muttered, slowing just enough to draw it out, to make you feel every twitch. “Come for me.”

And you did.

Hard.

You sagged against her, chest heaving, lips parted, skin flushed and raw. Your dress was bunched around your waist. Her fingers were still inside you—slow, almost lazy now.

Then she kissed you again.

Slower this time. Still filthy. Still possessive.

When she finally pulled away, she wiped her hand on your thigh and leaned in close, her mouth just barely grazing your ear.

“You kiss anyone else tonight,” she murmured, “I’ll fuck you in front of the whole damn room next time.”

Your pulse spiked.

And all you could do was nod.

Because fuck… You wanted her to mean it.

JUNE

It had been three days.

Three days since the door clicked shut behind her. Three days since she walked down that hallway like nothing had happened—like Sevika’s hand hadn’t still been between her thighs five minutes earlier. Like they hadn’t both sworn, half-dressed and out of breath, “This doesn’t mean anything.”

She said it first. Sevika repeated it.

So why was she the one sending messages at 3 a.m.?

You stared down at your phone, thumb hovering over the most recent one.

3:14 AM

you’re not still thinking about it, right? bc i’m not. seriously.

And before that:

Yesterday, 6:41 PM

you looked good in that dress

Sunday, 12:02 PM

you gonna ignore me forever? cute

You hadn’t answered any of them. Not a single one.

And maybe that was cruel. But fuck it felt good.

You were dressed down today—bootcut leggings clinging to your thighs, a cropped zip-up sweatshirt barely covering the tight white tank underneath, your hair clipped up in a lazy twist. You leaned into the grocery cart like it was the only thing keeping you upright, staring at your screen like it might bite.

"Y/N," your mom called from a few feet away, comparing the price of fabric softeners like it was a life-or-death decision. "Can you grab some pizza rolls for your brother? The off-brand kind, not those overpriced ones."

You nodded absently and turned, still not looking up from your phone as you wandered off. The freezer doors were a blurry, frosty line in your periphery, the kind of quiet section where nothing important happened.

Until it did.

You reached for the handle of the frozen snacks door just as a voice behind you stopped you cold.

“Really? You’re ghosting me now?”

You froze—hand still on the glass, heart lurching, stomach flipping so hard it hurt.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

But you did anyway.

Sevika stood a few feet behind you in the aisle, her dark hoodie unzipped over a fitted tee, a six-pack of Modelo in one hand and a bag of something frozen in the other. Her hair was half-tied back, and she looked tired. Annoyed. Wrecked, maybe.

You tilted your head slowly. “Hey.”

“That’s all I get?”

You raised a brow. “We said no strings.”

She scoffed, shifting her weight. “No strings doesn’t mean radio silence.”

You gave a casual shrug and grabbed the pizza rolls, not bothering to hide the smirk tugging at your lips. “Didn’t think you’d be the clingy type.”

Her jaw tensed.

“You think this is funny?”

You turned back to face her, holding the box of pizza rolls against your hip. “A little.”

She stepped closer. Not close enough to draw attention—just enough that her voice dropped a few degrees lower.

“You act like you’re in control, but we both know you’d let me fuck you again if I asked.”

Your smile vanished.

You took a breath.

And then, calmly, “Yeah. But you’re not asking.”

That caught her.

For a moment, Sevika just looked at you. Like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to grab you by the wrist or slam her head into the freezer door.

Then she muttered, “You’re such a brat.”

“And you’re supposed to be the one who doesn’t care,” you shot back, stepping around her. “Guess we’re both off our game.”

You walked away without looking back.

Sevika didn’t follow.

But the next text came before you made it to the checkout line.

2:46 PM

come over tonight or don’t but i’ll be thinking about how wet you were

You didn’t answer that one either.

Not yet.

You didn’t even knock.

The text had been vague, half-daring, half-desperate, but you knew what it meant. Knew what she wanted. What you wanted, too, even if you were still pretending it didn’t matter.

You pulled up outside just past 10, the house quiet and dark except for the soft orange glow leaking through the living room windows. No car in the driveway but hers. No one home but her.

You pushed open the front door—unlocked, like she was expecting you—and stepped inside without a word.

“Sevika?” you called softly, tone casual, like you weren’t already soaked between the thighs just thinking about her hands on you again.

You barely made it three steps into the house.

Suddenly—there she was.

Coming out of the hallway like a shadow. Loose grey tank, black sweats slung low. Her hair was damp from a shower, curling around her jaw. No greeting. No hello.

Just—“You came.”

You didn’t even have time to speak before her hands were on your waist and your back hit the nearest wall with a thud.

Her mouth crushed against yours, hard, greedy, like she'd been holding back for days. Her body pinned you, thigh already sliding between your legs as you gasped and clutched at her shoulders.

She pulled back just enough to mutter, “You think you can fuck with my head and then show up looking like that?”

You arched into her, heart pounding. “Maybe.”

Sevika growled and ducked down to bite your neck—hard enough to make your knees buckle. Her hands shoved up under your hoodie, yanking your tank top with it, bunching both in her fists until your chest was bared to the cool air.

“Fuck,” she muttered, mouthing at your breast, biting, sucking, palming it like she hated how much she wanted it. “You’ve been ignoring me just to get me like this, huh?”

You gasped. “You think too much of yourself.”

She shoved her thigh up higher. “You’re dripping.”

You whimpered.

Sevika pulled away just long enough to yank your leggings and panties down in one motion, your sneakers scraping against the floor as you tried not to collapse. She spun you around, hands on your hips, and bent you over the hallway console table like you weighed nothing.

“Look at you,” she rasped behind you. “So desperate. So quiet now.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed, cheek pressed to the cool wood.

She grinned, voice low and vicious. “You already did, baby.”

Her fingers slid between your legs, and you sobbed her name the second she pushed in—no warmup, no teasing this time. Just pure need.

She fucked you like she was mad. Like you’d betrayed her somehow. Her other hand gripped your shoulder, holding you down while she drove into you with long, punishing strokes that left your thighs shaking.

“Thought about this,” she muttered, panting, hips snapping harder. “Every night since.”

You couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe.

“Thought about you riding me,” she continued, breath hot against your ear now, bending over you as your body trembled under hers. “Thought about making you beg.”

You choked on a moan as her fingers curved just right.

“You gonna beg, baby?” she whispered, slowing just enough to make you feel it. “You gonna admit who you belong to?”

You didn’t say it.

You didn’t have to.

Your body gave her the answer—hips jerking, voice cracking, falling apart so hard and fast you didn’t even realize you were crying until she wrapped a hand around your throat and groaned, “There she is…”

You came so hard your knees gave out.

She caught you, lifted you like you were nothing, and carried you toward the bedroom—still inside you, still hard, still not done.

And neither were you.

She carried you into the bedroom like she couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

Your arms were around her neck, head tucked under her chin, body still pulsing from that first orgasm—legs shaky, panties hitting the floor (i aint got no panties on), hair sticking to your cheeks with sweat. Sevika’s hand slid down your thigh as she laid you back against the mattress, her eyes dark and hooded.

She didn’t say anything as she peeled your sweatshirt and tank the rest of the way off. Just watched. Took her time. Dragged her fingers up your stomach like she was memorizing you. Her thumb brushed your ribcage. She looked at you like maybe you weren’t just a brat who ghosted her.

Like maybe you were hers.

You didn’t dare speak.

Not when she kneeled between your legs, shirt off, sweatpants pushed down just enough for you to see the thick black strap she’d already buckled on underneath. Not when she leaned over you, arms braced on either side of your head, gaze locked on your face like she wanted to watch you come undone in slow motion.

"You sure?" she asked, voice low now—not mocking, not teasing. Just... there.

Your throat felt tight.

You nodded.

“Use your words, baby.”

You swallowed. “Yes. Please.”

That made her smile. Not smug. Just quiet. Like maybe it was the first real one you’d seen from her in years.

She kissed you again—slower this time. Less teeth, more tongue. More push and pull and the quiet threat of something deeper blooming under it all. Her hand slid down between your legs again, fingers slipping through the mess she left behind.

“You’re still so fucking wet,” she murmured, not even pretending to hide the groan in her throat. “This all for me?”

You whimpered, hips lifting.

That was all she needed.

Sevika lined herself up and pushed in—slow, careful now, like she wanted to feel every inch of you stretch around her. You gasped, mouth open, one leg curling around her waist instinctively.

She stayed like that for a moment, buried deep inside you, just breathing against your mouth.

You whispered, “Move.”

And she did.

Long, slow thrusts that hit every nerve ending like fire. Her hands gripped your hips, then your jaw, then your thigh again like she didn’t know where to hold you because she wanted all of you. Her forehead pressed to yours. Her breath stuttered. She was whispering things you barely caught—your name, curses, “so tight,” “so pretty like this,” “don’t run from me again.”

You cupped her face, dragged her mouth back to yours, and kissed her like you were already addicted.

The rhythm built slowly, steadily, every push dragging another sound from your throat—until your whole body was shaking again and she growled into your neck, “Come on, baby, let go for me—again. I know you can.”

And you did.

Harder than before. Slower. Deeper.

Sevika held you through it—grinding her hips into yours, letting you ride it out, her arms wrapped around your waist like she couldn’t let you slip away even if she tried.

Your nails dug into her back. Your breath hitched. You clung to her like you didn’t want morning to come.

And maybe you didn’t.

Because when she finally pulled out and collapsed beside you—bare chest rising and falling, lips swollen, jaw slack—neither of you said a word.

You just lay there, tangled in sheets, silent.

Too close. Too warm. Too real.

And it hit you, then.

You were in so much trouble.

The light was different when you opened your eyes.

Warm. Soft. Unforgiving.

You blinked against the morning sun filtering through the blinds, your body sore in all the right places—hips aching, legs tangled in unfamiliar sheets, and the distinct, unbearable weight of reality settling low in your chest.

You turned your head.

Sevika was still asleep.

Flat on her back, one arm thrown above her head, the other resting across her stomach. Her hair was a mess. Her lips were parted slightly, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm that told you this wasn’t the kind of sleep she got often.

She looked... peaceful. Human. Beautiful.

You hated it.

Because everything in you wanted to curl into her side. To press your face against her shoulder and pretend none of this was complicated. That you weren’t supposed to be her sister’s best friend. That this wasn’t supposed to be just sex.

But it didn’t feel like just sex anymore.

Not after the way she kissed you. Not after the way she held you. Not after the way she didn’t say anything when you finally fell asleep beside her—just shifted closer in the dark and let your hand rest over her chest like it belonged there.

You swallowed hard and sat up slowly.

Every inch of you ached, but you didn’t make a sound. You moved carefully, deliberately. Pulled on your sweatshirt from the floor. Dug around for your phone. Slipped one leg into your leggings, then the other.

You scanned the room, heart hammering, nerves on edge.

No bra. No socks. No—

Your panties.

Gone.

You spotted them a second later—on the floor at the foot of the bed, rumpled and barely visible against the shadows.

You hesitated.

Sevika shifted in her sleep, brow twitching slightly, lips parting just enough to exhale.

You grabbed your phone and backed out instead.

Didn’t bother with the underwear.

Didn’t say goodbye.

You slipped out the front door as quietly as you’d come in, heart racing, skin still flushed, the scent of her still clinging to your clothes.

And Sevika?

She didn’t wake until nearly noon.

When she finally stretched, groggy and warm and half-hard under the sheets, her hand reached for the space beside her.

Empty.

Her eyes opened slowly—confused, heavy.

And there, on the floor near the bed, sat your underwear.

Small.

Soft.

Proof.

She picked them up without a word.

Held them in her hand like a question she didn’t know how to ask.

And the worst part?

She didn’t know if she wanted you to come back and take them…

…or if she wanted to keep them exactly where they were.

You didn’t remember the drive home.

You blinked, and suddenly you were pulling into your driveway, engine still running, hands gripping the wheel like it could hold you together. The world looked too normal outside—bright, quiet, birds chirping like you hadn’t just had reckless, wall-slamming, toe-curling sex with your best friend’s sister.

Twice.

You slammed the car door harder than necessary and made your way inside, heart still pounding in your ears. Your mom wasn’t home. Thank god. The house was still, peaceful, and you felt anything but.

You kicked off your shoes and went straight to your room, peeling off your sweatshirt, tossing your keys onto the dresser, and falling face-first into your bed.

Fuck.

You didn’t cry. Not yet. You just lay there, the silence stretching long and thin around you as last night replayed in pieces. The hallway. The bite on your neck. Her voice in your ear.

You kiss anyone else tonight, I’ll fuck you in front of the whole damn room next time.

You groaned into your pillow.

You hadn’t meant to sleep over. Hell, you hadn’t meant to go over at all. You weren’t supposed to like the way she looked at you after. Like you were hers. Like she wasn’t going to let you go.

And you definitely weren’t supposed to leave your underwear on her bedroom floor.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your phone buzzed beside you.

You rolled over with a groan, expecting another text from her—another “where are you” or a dirty little memory from last night.

But it wasn’t from Sevika.

It was from Riley.

Your stomach dropped.

Riley 🐍

were you at my house last night?

You sat up so fast you saw stars. The air left your lungs. Your fingers trembled as you stared at the screen, the words blaring back at you like a spotlight.

Shit shit shit.

Your pulse spiked. You could already feel the sweat forming at the back of your neck. You fumbled to type something—anything—that would make sense.

You settled on:

you:

i forgot my wallet at the party sorry

You hit send.

Then immediately threw your phone across the bed like it had caught fire.

You stared at the ceiling, heart in your throat, counting your breaths. One. Two. Three.

Ding.

You launched yourself across the bed, scrambling to grab the phone, praying it wasn’t Sevika saying something stupid

You unlocked the screen.

Riley 🐍

lol ok just wondering, sevika said she heard the door this morning but thought it was her dreams or some shit lmao

You exhaled so hard you almost collapsed.

You let your head fall back against the headboard, phone still in your hand, chest rising and falling like you’d just escaped a firing squad.

You were safe.

For now.

But this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Because you could still feel her teeth on your neck.

The underwear was still in her hand.

It was soft, pale, a little lace at the trim. Barely anything at all. Just a scrap of fabric, really.

But Sevika stared at it like it had teeth.

She sat on the edge of the bed, hair still damp from sweat and sleep, sheet slung low around her hips. Her fingers curled slowly around the waistband. She could still smell you on it. Still see the shape your body had left in the mattress. Still feel the ghost of your nails dragging down her back.

What the fuck was that?

You were supposed to be a one-time thing. A mistake. A hot, filthy, memory-staining mistake that you both walked away from with a smirk and a shoulder shrug.

So why had you kissed her like you meant it?

Why had you curled into her after? Why hadn’t you said goodbye?

Why the fuck had she reached for you in her sleep?

She rubbed her face with both hands, growling under her breath. “Get it together.”

Then—footsteps.

Shit.

The door opened and Riley’s voice followed, too loud and too fast for Sevika’s half-fried brain to track.

“Sevika, do we have any almond milk left or—what the fuck, are you still in bed?”

Sevika jolted upright, shoving the underwear under the pillow with military precision and grabbing the sheet to yank it tighter across her chest. “Jesus, knock next time.”

Riley stood in the doorway holding a cereal box, one brow arched.

“Ew, are you naked?”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking are.”

Sevika rolled her eyes and stretched her arms behind her like it was just another lazy morning. “Didn’t know I needed permission to sleep in my own damn bed.”

“Whatever,” Riley muttered, heading toward the kitchen. “I thought I heard the door earlier. Weird dreams or something. You hear anything?”

Sevika shrugged—too casual. “Might’ve. Could’ve been the cat.”

“We don’t have a cat.”

“Then it was a burglar.”

“Funny.” Riley’s voice was already fading into the hall. “Let me know if they took the almond milk.”

The door clicked shut again.

Sevika exhaled, slow and shaky. She waited a beat, then reached under the pillow and pulled the underwear back out.

She stared at it.

Still there. Still real.

Still you.

She dragged her thumb across the fabric once, then set it down on the nightstand like she couldn’t bring herself to throw it out. Like she wasn’t done with you yet.

And her phone?

Still lit up on the floor.

No new messages.

Still nothing from you.

comment to be added to the taglist! @l4dyf1ngers

[strawbairicake]

kiss, kiss, fall in love! oh wait-! -various hsr characters x reader

synopsis: playing the pocky game with your boyfriend! that’s it, send tweet. 

warnings: uh, none? a mildly suggestive line in a couple of parts that i didn’t think were suggestive, but what do i know (ratio’s part in particular, maybe phainon’s part too but probs not lol). uh, other than that, idk if my beginner/novice writing counts as a warning. 

word count: 1.1k (dear god h o w… it’s almost as long as my ratio fic…)

author’s note: moze and ratio’s parts are much longer than the other two, i’m sorry (biased cause they’re my faves and there’s not enough written abt them imo!)! the inspiration was there and then lost if you catch my drift! T_T anyway, idk how to write kiss scenes at all other than like a peck on the lips, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, right… right? hope you enjoy regardless! <3

taglist: @sqgeism, @vyyper, @your-sleeparalysisdem0n, @cmiru, @unriding, @sheyfu, @zoieru, + @m1ckeyb3rry! let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 

Moze: 

you truly don’t know how you ended up convincing Moze to take a few minutes to play this game with you. but he was just glad it was in the confines of your shared home where Feixiao and Jiaoqiu couldn’t see and make fun of him. so here you were, sitting on the couch, a stick of pocky in your mouth, as you waved Moze over with your hand. you were so excited, it made Moze almost smile unconsciously. so he sat on the couch in front of you, watching almost aimlessly as you took the stick of the sweet snack out of your mouth and began explaining the game to him. 

“basically the person who breaks the stick first loses. i think the goal is to get as close as possible without breaking the stick. or it might be to kiss someone, i’m not even sure at this point.” you said. 

and thus, the game began. Moze could read your body language well. you were excited and nervous, an outcome he wasn’t expecting. as you both put the end of the stick in your mouths, you ease closer and closer together. closer and closer until—

snap! you broke the stick before he could kiss you! 

“one more time,” he says after you break the stick of pocky for the third time. this time, he thinks, i need to kiss you.

and as you break the stick for the fourth time, you barely feel Moze’s hand gently cup the back of your head as he leans impossibly forward and kisses you so gently on the lips. he pulls away before you can reciprocate properly, but he notices your flushed state and leans in again to press a kiss to your forehead before sneaking off to the kitchen to make dinner. 

“hey, wait up!” 

Dr. Ratio:

how you managed to get him to play the game with you is the result of you playfully going “guess I’ll play with Aventurine instead” and your boyfriend was not impressed with the idea of that, so he begrudgingly decided to play the pocky game with you. so here you sat, on his massive couch in your home office, staring at each other (lovingly?) as you explain the rules of the game.

 as you explain, you hardly notice the way your boyfriend is moving impossibly closer to you. he’s so interested in the way you talk, his eyes are fixated on your lips the entire time you explain the rules of the game. but it’s whatever, right? surely he was paying attention… right? spoiler alert: he was not paying attention to the rules and broke the stick before you would even be close to being done with the pocky. 

but bless your heart, you were so understanding, split the broken stick in half, handed the other half to him, and ate it before bringing out another stick from the pack. so surely sixth time’s the charm!

 you both start from one end of the stick and slowly inch your way forward towards each other. this time, you’re closer to the middle of the stick. before you can pull away, Veritas surprises himself (and you) and pulls you closer so that your lips briefly touch. the way he kisses is sweet and gentle, greatly contrasting to what others think about him. you kiss back just as gently, a bit hesitant, but the thought and effort is there.

 you both pull away after a few seconds, which felt like forever. when you look up at your partner, you can’t help but notice the smile on his face and slightly flushed cheeks. he brings your hand to his lips and kisses the inside of your wrist before looking at you again. 

“if you so much as try to convince the damned gambler to play this game with you, it would be a shame to learn the consequences of what may happen. understood?” 

and holy shit. what a curveball- sweet one moment, possessive the next. however, you know he’s mostly bark and no bite, but you indulge him and nod before leaning in and kissing him again, smiling into the kiss.

Aventurine:

“and what do i get if i win, love?” Aventurine asks as you finish explaining the rules of the game. 

“you get to kiss me! is that not a good enough reward?” you retort and start pouting playfully. Aventurine chuckles at your response and faux pout. gods, you were so cute and easy to make (playfully) mad. Aventurine watches your facial features and body language as you nervously look at him before fiddling with the pocky box. you carefully pull a stick of pocky out of the pack, mindful as to not break it. you put one end of it in your mouth and motion your boyfriend to do the same with the other end of the stick. He indulges in your silly request, both of you nibbling closer to the middle of the stick. Aventurine keeps his eyes trained on your expression, waiting for you to display any signs of discomfort, if you are uncomfortable. he puts a hand on your thigh and rubs small circles on the flesh before reaching the middle of the stick and pressing a featherlight kiss to your lips before swiftly pulling away. he notices the slight puzzlement in your face as he pulls away, so he decides to compromise and decides to press multiple kisses to your face until he sees the smile return to your face. 

“Aven, stop!” you whine. 

“Apologies, dear, you looked so sad that you lost. I had to make it better.” he winks at you. little did he know, you lost on purpose- you couldn't help it! he unknowingly makes you nervous sometimes, but not in the bad way, if that makes sense. But all things considered, it was very sweet of him to be mindful of your feelings. he’s always been so considerate of you- it makes you wonder just a bit. 

Phainon: 

If Phainon was an animal, he would be a dog. Why, you may ask? His imaginary tail is wagging and he is getting happier and more excited as you explain the rules of the game to him. he’s so excited, it’s quite endearing. as you grab a stick of pocky from its pack, you look up at Phainon and notice the playful glint in his eyes. uh oh, you thought, he’s scheming something. But that didn’t matter right now. all that matters is that you two have fun. so as you both nibble on the opposite ends of the pocky, you don’t realize Phainon’s hand moving to lovingly caress your cheek. you don’t think anything of it and lean into his hand slightly. you don’t notice as you break the stick of pocky and Phainon proceeds to kiss you before quickly breaking off the kiss. 

“Phainon?” you ask as you look at him, he kisses your forehead and smiles at you lovingly. 

“Let’s do something else, like make a cake or something!” he replies. 

you notice the flushed look on his face and how his ears are tinted pink. you totally got him good.

©2025 strawbairicake. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

[lampridius]

Hey so how do you think Dan Heng, Aventurine, Anaxagoras and Paiphon would deal with their crush who typically doesn’t let anything hold them back, can come out of dangerous situations cool headed, but then they go and ask out these boys and they’re a blushing, stuttering mess? Messed up asking them out kind of. Fiddling with their clothes and giving them big eyes? Sputters out, “Oh! I forgot, it’s ok if it’s a no to my question”? (They seem to find the act of asking someone out more terrifying than facing a scary enemy. When they say yes, crush lets out the biggest sigh of relief. Like they been holding their breathe).

⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･ 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘬𝘢𝘪: ꒱ 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭 ✴ ───────── ❝ 𝙘𝙤𝙤𝙡-𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 ❞ －𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘶𝘴 ．．• ♡︎

─ .✦ 𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘀: dan heng, aventurine, anaxa, phainon ─ .✦ 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: @mauserre, @tremendoustragedybard ──── .✦ 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘴 | 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 | 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 ──── .✦ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨:

they’ve seen you step out of explosions without blinking. handle high-stakes negotiations, enemy ambushes, and life-or-death decisions like they were nothing more than minor inconveniences. you're the type who dusts yourself off after chaos, shrugs, and says “i’ve had worse.”

but now? standing in front of them, your hands can’t seem to stay still, your words come out tangled and half-formed, and you look like you’d rather fight a hundred beasts than finish your sentence.

dan heng notices your fidgeting immediately. at first, he assumes something’s wrong - until your cheeks flush, and you start talking at lightning speed, only to trip over your words entirely.

“so, um, i was thinking, maybe if you're not busy- like, later, maybe we could, i don’t know, go somewhere together- just the two of us- unless that’s weird, oh! actually, it’s fine if not, i forgot to say-”

he blinks. stunned. and then it clicks.

he softens. a slow, almost bashful smile breaks across his face. “you’re asking me out?”

you nod, practically vibrating from nerves.

he pauses a beat. “then yes.”

you exhale like you’d been holding the universe inside your lungs.

he steps closer, brushing a stray thread off your sleeve. “you face down monsters without blinking. but this flusters you?”

“shut up,” you mutter, but your grin says everything.

aventurine had been watching you pace for five minutes. arms crossed, one brow lifted. he thought you were hyping yourself up for a mission - until you spun around and hit him with the most catastrophically uncoordinated attempt at confession he’d ever seen.

“you. me. uh… out. together. romantically, not like... business- though i guess if that’s how you want to interpret it, that’s fine, actually maybe not fine, unless- wait, never mind, forget it-”

he bursts into laughter. not mocking, but completely charmed.

“you? you can stare down a hostile contract and bluff your way out of a corporate ambush, but you can’t ask me to dinner without tripping over your own name?”

you flush hard. “you can say no, y’know.”

he gives you a wide, golden grin. “i’m not going to. lucky for both of us, i say yes to high-reward investments.”

and just like that, he loops an arm around your shoulder with an air of ease that makes your heart race harder than battle ever could.

anaxa is so used to your usual cool-headed bravery that seeing you twist the hem of your shirt, avoiding his eyes, makes him immediately worried. “what’s wrong?”

you mumble something, way too quiet.

“huh?”

“iwannagoonadatewithyou- uhbutifyoudon’twantto,that’sfine!”

he stares. blinks. stares again.

you look terrified, and he realizes this might be the first time you’ve truly been that.

he gently reaches out, steadying your flailing hand with his own. “you really thought i’d say no?”

you nod once, sheepishly.

he shakes his head, eyes soft, ears turning pink. “next time you wanna ask me something, try not to look like the world’s ending.”

then, quietly: “yes. of course yes.”

your shoulders slump like you just dropped a thousand-pound weight.

phainon watches you stumble over your words like a system glitch. you try to meet his eyes, fail, then stammer something like “just thought maybe- like- i mean, you’re cool, and i like you- not just like-like, but… ugh, whatever, forget it.”

he blinks, tilting his head, silent. then: “that was your attempt at asking me out?”

you nod, miserable.

he smiles - genuine, rare, warm. “yes.”

“…wait- yes? as in, you got what i was trying to say?”

“yes as in, i’d like that very much.”

you deflate. hands on your knees, one breathy “thank stars above,” and he laughs so quietly it’s barely there.

he walks beside you after that, a little closer than usual. “you act like you’d rather face orbital cannon fire than talk feelings.”

“because i would.”

he lets that hang in the air. “well,” he murmurs, “you’re lucky i can translate nerves into affection.”

[ollyissleepy]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐦

pairings: platonic yandere!batfam x uninterested!male!reader summary: After being caught red handed stealing, (name) finds himself in the Wayne Manor, surrounded by his new family. (Name)'s disinterested in bonding is met with equally not caring siblings and father. As he spends his days alone, (name) realises his new family might care much more than he originally thought the did. cw: stealing, swearing, underage smoking, reader commits a crime, stabbing (in a way?) a/n: you see this part? how (name) is doing in it? yeah keep it in mind reading the rest of the parts. Also can you tell I binged-watched final destination? based on this idea I had

m.list • part: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

(Name) walks into Gotham's bus station right before the last ticket kiosk was about to close. The woman behind the glass looked annoyed at one more customer; however, upon seeing the bills in the teenager's hands, she had forced herself to smile for one more customer.

The boy finds out that the first bus out of Gotham travels to Metropolis in the early hours of the morning. (Name) knows he doesn't have any other options, and so he buys a one-way ticket to the city. He gave the woman selling it to him a large tip 'for the trouble'.

Sitting in the waiting area of the bus station, (name) quickly learnt that buying the ticket was the easy part. Waiting for the right bus proved to be much harder for the boy. He kept looking around, worried that his 'family' had found out he was not in the manor and came looking for him.

In order to calm his mind, (name) goes to the bathroom in hopes that some cold water could help with that.

The boy splashes his face multiple times, trying to regain his composure. He looks up to the mirror, staring at his face. He looked… tired. (Name) couldn't believe those dull eyes once belonged to a rather happy child. He wondered if that little boy was still somewhere buried deep inside of him, rotting away. If only he wasn't caught that night. Maybe if he wouldn't meet Bruce and Dick and Jason and…

And Tim.

(Name) reached inside his back pocket, pulling out his phone. Out of habit, he had taken it with him. He stares at the black screen, his mind wandering off to the joke Tim made about putting a tracker on him.

The teenager wrestles with the device, trying to open the cartridge where he saw Duke put a SIM card in. It takes him a moment to figure it out, but once he has the card in his palm, he flushes it down the toilet. The phone was carefully placed next to a sink, hoping that someone would take it, throwing the Waynes off. 

He spends the remaining time even more nervous than he was before. (Name) kept looking towards the clock to watch the minutes pass. The bouncing of his right leg made the person sitting next to him scoff and move to sit further away.

Getting on the bus, (name) chooses a seat far from anyone else, closer towards the end of the vehicle. He rests his head against the window, keeping his eyes half-closed to check who else would be riding with him without anyone noticing him staring.

The ride to Metropolis wasn't as bad as the teenager was worried it would be. The other passengers kept it for themselves for the most part. (Name)'s nerves seemed to calm down a little with each passing kilometre.

The teenager felt himself relax the moment his eyes were met with the 'Welcome to Metropolis' sign. He knew that this city wasn't his last stop, but the distance he put between himself and the family was enough for the time being.

(Name) felt like a new person as he was getting off the bus. He took a look around, pride filling his heart. It was the first step to his freedom.

Walking the streets, the teenager realised one thing: Metropolis was nothing like Gotham. In practice it meant two things for (name). The first one was the fact that finding a place to stay might be much harder than he anticipated. On his walk he only saw one abandoned-looking building, and with how put-together the city appeared to be, there was no way he could get a hotel room.

On the first night in Metropolis, (name) spent napping on the bench hidden deep in a park. In the morning, he woke up cold and more tired than before he went to sleep.

The second night, the teenager had more luck. He found a poorly locked store. That night, the boy slept well, surrounded by warmth.

After that, he purposely looked for stores without high security, breaking into them and sleeping. After each night, he made sure that the store was left untouched to minimise the police catching a whiff of him.

Unbeknownst to him, (name) did catch the attention of a certain someone. 

During a late-night patrol, Conner had spotted him breaking into a store. The Superboy was ready to swoop in and stop the robbery, only to find out that there was no robbery. It was just a teenager his age who was setting up what appeared to be a place to sleep.

"Stop right there!" Superboy yelled out, his fists up in the air, ready to fight.

"Listen, I promise I'm not trying to steal anything," (name) mumbled, his hands in the air. "I'm just looking for somewhere to sleep."

Conner didn't believe him. Not at first. It takes several nights of watching the teenager from afar for Conner to understand that he wasn't lying. He watched the boy's night-time routine: finding a store, breaking inside and setting up a place to sleep. If said store sold food, Conner noticed that he would leave money for any eaten items.

Unsure of what to do with that knowledge, Conner confided in his parents. He told them how he had met a boy around his age who keeps breaking into random shops. Not to steal anything, but just as a form of shelter. Clark promised to check on the teenager.

That night, the two heroes watched (name) breaking into a butcher's store, setting up a space to sleep behind the counter.

(Name) rummages through the shelves in the back, trying to see if any workers had left their uneaten lunches behind for him to eat. The boy is so focused on the task that he doesn't notice that he's no longer alone in the store.

He hears someone clearing his throat right behind him. Startled, (name) quickly turns around, ready to face whoever had caught him. He didn't consider how slippery the floor was from the cleaning supplies.

His mind doesn't fully register the fall before (name) feels the excruciating pain in his lower abdomen. He clutches his stomach around the object currently sticking out of it, looking up to see the shocked and terrified expressions of Superman and Superboy.

The last thing the boy sees is the two men rushing to his side, trying to aid him. After that, all he remembers is the darkness around him. 

He doesn't know how much time has passed when he opens his eyes again. (Name) groans, his eyes blurry as he attempts to move.

"Easy there," a woman's voice said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Wouldn't want you to ruin your stitches."

The teenager stops struggling; instead, he takes a look around the room he was in. The room was small and, judging by the decoration in it, seemed like a guest room. On the bed sat a woman with short, dark hair and purple eyes. On her lap were lying a few medical supplies, as if she came to tend to his wound.

(Name) looked down onto his body, a groan escaping his lips after noticing bandages on his abdomen.

"You were lucky, you know?" The woman said, placing the medical supplies onto the bedside table. "If the metal stabbed you a few millimetres over, you'd be dead."

"I came to change your bandages," she stated, ignoring the lack of response from the boy. "Now, since you're awake, it should be much easier. Can I?"

The teenager nodded, knowing that due to how dry his mouth felt, talking wasn't really an option for him now.

(Name) follows each instruction that the woman gave him, not really in the position to do anything else. He learnt that her name was Lois and that she was the mother of the hero that had saved him.

After successfully changing out his bandages and applying ointment to his wound, Lois left the room with a promise to bring him some water.

The teenager isn't left alone in the room for long. He doesn't even get to think of what his next should be when Lois comes back, accompanied by a man. The woman returns to the boys' side, handing him a glass of water.

"Good to see that you're awake," the man said, not moving from the doorway. "We figured bringing you here would be a better bet than taking you to the hospital."

"Thank you". (Name) took another sip of water. He looked down at the glass, thinking.

"I'm sorry for being so much trouble," the boy mumbled. "I'll leave the moment I get better. I promise."

"Nonsense…" Lois started speaking.

"We wanted to help you, so we did," the man had finished. "You can stay here for as long as you want."

"I won't stay here," (name) argued.

"Nobody will force you to do that," Lois tried to soothe the teenager. "We're just offering."

The boy loses himself in his own thoughts for a moment. Could he really stay here? No. Not like that. Not for free. Nothing's free.

"You could help around the farm if you want," the man offered, as if he was reading the boy's mind. "We could use an extra hand."

(Name) looks up at the man. Helping around while he was staying with them didn't sound that bad after all. The boy nodded. He could stay with them for a while before continuing with his journey.

"Great," the man smiled. "Make sure to get plenty of rest then. We'll get you back on your feet in no time."

Just as the man promised, who later he had learnt was called Clark, (name) had healed in no time. With the doting of Lois and company on both of their kids, he slowly regained all of his energy. Going from not being able to move, to sitting along them at the table. 

Once the boy could walk again, their youngest, Jon, took him outside to show him around the farm. That's when he found out about the workers' quarters in the upstairs of the barn. That night he had pushed the couple to let (name) move there.

From that day on, the boy had fallen into a routine. Each day he would wake up at the crack of dawn, learning how to care for animals from each of the family members.

Right after breakfast he rushes along with Jon to feed the chickens and listen to the boy explain what each bird is called. Then, he does general maintenance along Conner and Clark. If there's nothing he could help with, he spends his time in the kitchen with Lois, helping her prepare meals for the family.

(Name) had also found himself enjoying eating with the Kents. Watching them banter with each other and listen to Jon and Conner talk about their days in school felt nice and refreshing. Even if allowing Lois to fill his plate with seconds with a soft 'eat up, you need to grow strong, sweetie' made him feel a little guilty at times, he apologised to his mother for betraying her like that.

After dinner he would often stay out, watching the night sky along Conner. It was nothing like he knew back in Gotham. In Smallville, looking up at night meant seeing multiple stars shining bright, while in Gotham the only lights in the sky were from the helicopters flying above.

Watching the stars along Conner felt more meaningful after he had figured out why the teen seemed so familiar to him. Hanging out in Conner's room, he saw a photograph the teenager had with Tim, who, Superboy confirmed, was one of his closest friends.

It was getting close to midnight, the two of them wrapped in blankets provided by Lois, watching the night sky. (Name) points out a shooting star, Conner reminding him to make a wish.

"Sometimes I feel like I already know you from somewhere, you know?" Connor broke the silence, his eyes still focused on the sky. "I just can't figure out from where." (Name) tensed up, glancing towards the teen.

"Yeah, that's crazy," (name) laughed, internally trying to calm his heart. Deep breaths. 

(Name) spent the rest of that night unable to focus on anything else than Connor's words. Even hours later, as he lay in bed, they were the only thing he could think about. That night became the first night at the farm that he didn't get any sleep.

"Rough night?" Lois asked the next day, placing additional pancakes onto the boy's plate. "Here, a little more, since today will be rough for you."

Accepting Lois' love came quite easy, the woman reminding the boy of his mother in more ways than he would admit.

Allowing Clark closer felt impossible at times. Growing up, (name) didn't have a father figure, and Bruce, his biological father, he…

The boy shook his head; the man was far away. There was no way he could find the teenager here. Even though Conner is friends with his 'brother'.

Even so, he couldn't help but glance at Clark working on the farm tractor. The man had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his hands covered in oil. Watching him, it felt good, domestic in a way. Almost as if (name) was always destined to be here with him, with them. Is it really it? Is it the place he could finally stop running?

Clark must've sensed the teenager watching him, turning to look at him. He closed the hood of the tractor with a heavy sigh.

"I'm starving," the man said, walking up to (name). "Let's go home, son."

And he does.

m.list • part: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

taglist: @amber-content @bellethesleepypotato @leeiasure @sleepdeprivedcrappywriter @tenthmilo @eyeless-kun @holyfishbailiffpeanut @cuntiesweet @jsprien213 @marsmabe @cssammyyarts @ilovecoffe0 @phoenixgurl030 @esposadomd @alittlelostmoonchild @stargirl404 @xnutz0 @s4raahi @reeyy0-2@ironsaladwitch @chemicalwindexbottle@ityourguy @im-so-goddamn-tired@dirtydiavolo@etern1tyxxx@whognuthis @verypersonadazzel @staarflowerr @hai-there-how-are-you @depressed--therapist @flightless-magpie

[c4tluver02]

sweet drinks

wc: 1.4k

summary: A slow night at the bar reminds you just how lucky you are to spend the rest of your life with Steve.

cw: drinking but other than that none!! just steve yearning for you and you yearning for steve !!!!

a/n: I wrote this a little diff than I normally write so lmk if u like it or not :p

The bar filled in quickly tonight. Loud music leaked from the speakers as colorful hues splashed across dancing bodies. It was loud but not the type that forced you to scream just to hear one another. Your table was fit for four; you, Steve, Robin, and Eddie. 

Robin had invited Vickie and she came minutes after you four did. Eddie was quick to find a girl when he went out to smoke. And you and Steve stayed planted near your table. Between the two of you multiple drinks have been had. Glasses that were once filled with fruity cocktails that tasted sweet and looked like fun colors were in front of you while Steve had tall glasses with beer that were dark with white foam on top. When he kissed you he could taste the raspberry syrup they used in your drinks and it was almost enough to make his eyes lull to the back of his head. 

If you asked Steve he would say you look as good as you tasted. He’s barely taken his eyes off you tonight, only needing to when Robin and Vickie left to see which direction they were going. You were gleaming. Not even the crowded, sticky bar could take away from how mesmerizing you looked. 

When you had first walked in there was still something holding you up straight. Your body slightly stiff from the loud noise and sweaty bodies that were not afraid to bump into you as you pushed your way through. When you sat down and one by one your friends vanished your skeleton loosened with the thanks of your first drink. The barely there taste of alcohol made it easy to slurp down, Steve saw it but still waved to the bartender to make you another one. By the time you had finished two sugary drinks Steve had finished his bitter tasting beer. It had a light smokey taste to it that Steve was all about, but when offering you to try it your nose scrunch had told him enough about what you thought of it. 

As the drinks came and as you drank them it was always only you and Steve sat at the table for four. Sometimes his hand would copy a beat to a song that was playing, his lips mouthing some of the words. Even if he sang out loud no one would be able to hear it, well, maybe you but you were so close to him that his knees were pressed against yours. It wasn’t because it was loud or because there was no space, it was simply that with every little pink drink you got, somehow, Steve never felt close enough. A small scoot would bring you closer towards him and still a sigh would come out of you. Only showing your tantalizing smile when his hand would lay on your thigh, still drumming to the beat of a song. 

Whenever Steve leaned towards you to tell you something he always got a hint of your perfume. It wasn’t the one you wear everyday, but something bigger. One that when you walk by would remain, leaving a body that once was. It was crisp and airy all at the same time, floating and circling around Steve when you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

By your third drink you had given up on touching knees with him. Moving your chair directly next to his while throwing a leg over his own. Your arm was laying on his shoulder as your hand ran through his hair. Practically half of your body was on him, locking him in place and unable to leave. Not that Steve wanted to leave, not at all. You were finally getting to the fuzzy stage of drinking. Tispy, unaware, but still able to sit up straight. Steve loved this stage because whatever was holding you so tightly together was feathering out. Leaving him with a girl who isn't afraid to put half her body on him in public. 

Steve was starting to absolutely ache. He even thought that his heart might burst out of his chest. With the heat of your body on his and the sweetest compliments being whispered in his ear, he didn’t know if he would last the whole night. You were tempting and magnetic, a perfect concoction for Steve to take. Your hands were all over him by your fourth drink and by his third beer his whole body was completely turned towards you. The laugh that came out only when you two were alone started to slip out, the intoxication clear to anyone around you. But Steve wishes he could hear it everyday. Once when he wakes up, another when he gets in a bad mood because of a customer, and lastly before he goes to bed. Maybe another sprinkled somewhere within his day if he was able to be greedy. 

But with you Steve was always able to be greedy. Selfishly taking what he wants because you always let him. There's never any mention of being too much or needy when it comes to you two. Both of you are equally obsessed with each other but Steve likes to argue that he's at least 10% more obsessed with you than you are with him. And you don’t say he’s wrong because it feels nice to have someone obsessed with you. It’s why you let him do whatever he wants with you. 

And man, oh, man is it showing through tonight. When Eddie comes by to tell you he's heading out with a pretty girl by his side he sees it. Even the girl sees it, looking at you two with wide eyes, then looking at Eddie. You wish you could tell her that's not how Eddie works, nowhere near settling down but they walk away before you can warn her. Steve takes your attention back almost immediately and you don’t give it another thought, only looking at his big hazel eyes that softly look into your own. They are half-closed, and looking down at you. 

His veiny hand wraps lightly around your neck, slender fingers pushing your jaw up so your head is tilted to look at him. He tells you something but your eyes are stuck on his lips. Slightly pink from kissing you when you had your lipstick on, and wet from the sip he just took from his beer. It makes you run your tongue over your own lip in want, no, need. Because he’s barely kissed you despite being so pressed together. 

Thankfully Steve knows you well enough to read your mind, or maybe the need is so physical that it’s displayed on your face, unable to be hidden by the person who knows you the best. He leans in and gives you a slow feverish kiss. One that tells you he has been thinking about it all night, and the way you push into him in response tells him that you're thankful he finally did it. 

Of course he’d been giving you small pecks on your temple or the crown of your head. But when has that ever been enough? Especially when it comes to Steve. Steve who will carry you home on his back when he can't pick up a cab by the end of the night. You’ll slur on about how your feet hurt in your new heels and Steve will try not to trip on anything with you on his back as he walks home. Those new heels will be in his hands of course because how could you not fall asleep? His deep breaths are so comforting and the bounce within each step he takes is enough to rock you to sleep. 

Mumblings of “m’love with you Stevie” or “so strong for me” fill his ears. Thankfully you’re awake enough by the time you get home to dig out the house keys from your purse. Steve even bends his knees a little so you can easily reach the lock on the door. When they crack at the movement you’ll apologize for making him carry you, the short nap slightly killing your buzz. But he’ll tell you something about how it’s not your fault that he’s getting older. This fills you with a whole new feeling. Growing older with Steve, getting to hear his knees crack for the rest of your life. Telling your kids how one time you got drunk at a bar and that their dad was so kind he carried you home. It was a life worth dreaming about, and it was all because of Steve.

[jinxificada]

we all agree that jinx would rather not wear panties, right?

she's a fucking tease, wearing leggings that hugs her toned legs and exposes every dip and curve. tight jeans that cups her peachy ass nice and high, making a point to arch her back ever so slightly whenever you're around.

but if she decides to use panties, she's going for thongs, something pretty to look at when it peeks out her bottoms.

now this + her being your ex you just can't move on from.

your history together was sweet and innocent enough, starting dating at school and having been each other's firsts in everything. of course you couldn't forget her, of course you'll fall for every move she does each time you two cross paths.

she wants you back, desperately. it's obvious in the way her hips move in tune with the music and her eyes search for you. she might've even come to this club tonight just for you. and maybe that's what you wanted, since you and her started playing this game a while ago. but she doesn't have to know that, everyone posts on their stories about which club they're going to party!

you broke up with her. isn't that embarrassing? you had good reasons, though. you thought you were holding her back, it wasn't the most fun last year of school for you as you studied your ass off to get decent grades and she effortlessly aced in everything. she had tried to help you, but she herself got frustrated. in a bad moment, she'd said that "you're wasting your potential and holding her back".

she didn't mean to hurt you, much less to cause a breakup. but you took an impulsive decision and, honestly, you cringe at the thought of admitting your mistake and get her back.

though you were closer to do it every night like this. when she makes an effort to catch your attention.

you usually have to act quick. she's gorgeous, she's magnetic and everyone's eyes are on her. she leans over the counter at the bar, watching the bartender lady make her drink as she chats cheerfully. she wears a customized black denim vest that fits her slim torso perfectly, a fluffy mini skirt and knee high boots. she styled other accessories to compliment the already stunning outfit.

her lower back is exposed, pale unmarked skin glowing under the colorful flashing lights of the dark crowded room. she's too busy socializing to pay attention to her surroundings. it's okay, she's not alone. she knows you're observing, you distanced yourself from your friends as the night went on and you've gotten closer to her. she knows you'll be all over her at any moment now.

but she still jumps slightly when your cold hand brushes against her bare skin. you lean forward, pressing your chest to her back and leaving a soft kiss on her cheek. you touch her as if she's yours, your arms wrapped around her and your chin resting in her shoulder.

"fucking finally," she rolls her eyes brattily, leaning back against you. "you took so long i thought you were trying to get me drunk-"

"you just had a drink."

"whatever! i don't have any more money, pay for this one."

you do so, gaining the right to sip on it and share it with her.

it's almost a routine, feigning annoyance at each other's presence. pretending you're still upset while hands sneak around, words are shared in breathy whispers on the ear which leads to neck kissing, which leads to heated make out, which leads to heavy groping—

"where the fuck are your panties?"

your hands squeeze her butt a last time before you rush to cover her back with her skirt. your voice is irritated, the possessiveness dripping with each word.

she's smug about it, "didn't feel like wearing one. she's gotta breath sometimes, ya' know?"

you're quick to bring her down to earth. fingers deep in her cunt in the tight space of a restroom cubicle. her back pressed against the graffitied wall. 'what are you here for?' you read, and make a mental note to check the 'sex' column under the question.

you're fucking her dumb. not a thought in her head other than the growing pleasure between her legs. she babbles and drools into the kiss, her lipstick smeared on the top of her lips and her chin, matching with yours.

her plushy walls take you with familiarity, greedily sucking you in when you pull them out halfway, you curl them in a certain way that makes her tremble in your arms. you have her coming in fifteen minutes, and even after she orgasmed, you don't immediately pull back. instead, you whisper in her ear sweet nothings that you wouldn't be able to say in another context.

she's pliant in your embrace, letting you hold her until her legs gain back their strength.

"don't let go..yet." she pleads in a whisper. you've heard this before, the vulnerability in her voice squeezes your heart, unable to deny her.

"not yet."

it's always bittersweet. you always wonder why don't you just take her home and start over. you know she'll go without a doubt, she knows it too. why do you let her go? why are you pulling back, pecking her lips goodbye as if you won't fuck her again the next time you see her?