#but she can’t make my doctor’s appointments forever

[otamotone-dnp]

i think I can feel my frontal lobe developing

[alagaisia]

This is something I learned at one of the pre-op visits for my breast reduction! My surgeon was basically I think an independent surgeon (as I guess I would imagine is common for “cosmetic”/plastic surgeons?) and she was telling us a little bit about what to do for talking to insurance about the surgery and stuff, and she mentioned that for us going through insurance it would be at a particular hospital, but she also often did surgeries where people didn’t use there insurance, and she did those at some other place, and the price she charged up front was much lower, because that was the actual cost of the surgery (and equipment and everyone’s salaries etc.) and she had to raise the ticket price significantly when people would go through insurance, because the insurance company would negotiate that price down, and then keep some of the money. (Obviously for us and many others it still worked out to be cheaper for us out of pocket to go through insurance, but the amount she made was roughly the same even though it would look like she charged thousands more for my breast reduction than for someone not using insurance)

So, when you get those bills from your insurance after a doctors visit, and there’s that little table that tells you, this is the cost of the visit, this is the discount we got you, this is how much we paid, this is how much you still have to pay?

That line about “we got you this discount” is misleading. They actually caused the provider to raise the initial cost of your care by that amount, or more, in anticipation of the insurance company refusing to pay the full amount so that they could tell you they got you a discount.

"Why does a 15-minute visit with a doctor cost 150 bucks in America???" you're gonna want to read Money-Driven Medicine, by Maggie Mahar, and probably also The Social Transformation of American Medicine, to answer that question. It is not because your doctor is a greedy bastard; your doctor does not see most of that money. It is because the system is broken to a level that is truly impressive in its dedication to making a shit ton of money for insurance company executives and shareholders.

[noctuaism]

When it’s time for his daughter to get her vaccinations it’s Satoru who almost starts crying more than his daughter. Your daughter is notably more composed than your husband who looks at your daughter like she’s about to disappear on spot.

“Do we have to do this?” he asks for what you think is tenth time. “I can protect her. I’ll keep my infinity on and then she won’t have to worry about bacteria or viruses or boys.” He says the last one with a shiver like it’s the worst possible thing on the list.

“Yes she has to get her shots,” you say, not bothering to look up at him. You already know he’s pouting. Instead, you keep your eyes on your daughter, secured to the car seat between you and Satoru. Gently you run your finger over your daughter’s cheek. She gives you a wide, toothless smile that has your heart clenching. It was hard to believe that she was just in your belly just over two months ago. She was growing up so fast. “And no you can’t keep your infinity up forever, you’ll burn your brain out.”

The man continues to mutter anxiously, only worsening your own anxiety. You hated seeing your baby cry no less than he did.

“What if I hollow purple—” he starts again and you send him a withering look, feeling a little bad when he gives you an anxious look. Fatherhood is possibly the only thing that has ever made Gojo Satoru second guess himself. You reach over and gently squeeze his hand, both an apology for the harsh look and for reassurance, and watch as his face softens. He squeezes your hand back before taking his turn at entertaining your little baby.

The rest of ride to the hospital is filled with your baby gurgling joyfully at her father as he makes silly faces at her.

When you finally reaching the hospital, you thank Ichiji and drag Satoru away before he can give the poor man a hard time. Satoru holds the car seat in his hand, the shades on the carrier drawn over to protect your baby from the Sun. You hold the hand that isn't occupied with the carrier, squeezing it for reassurance, as you make your way into the building.

Times seems to fly from there, from the moment you approach the front desk and finish filling out the forms to finally hearing your family name being called.

The nurse gives the both of you a soft, reassuring smile seemingly accustomed to the anxiety of new parents. As she leads you to the back of office she reassures the both of you that this appointment would be quick and easy. She gives a practiced debrief of the vaccines your baby would receive. Satoru takes it upon himself to be a little obnoxious with the questions he asks and she shows no irritation towards him, taking everything in stride.

3 shots. This would not be easy.

You really didn't want to hear your baby cry. You turn your head to your husband who has an unusual, grim look on his face. You try your best to remind yourself that this was for your daughters health and wellbeing. The quicker this was done, the faster the both you could go home and take care of her.

After being seated in the room, the only thing left to do was wait for the doctor. The loud crying of babies from the other room left you feeling uneasy. You watch as Satoru takes her out of the carrier to hold her up in his arms. You soften at the sight. Your two loves.

It reminds you that despite all the fears that Satoru had shared with you about fatherhood, he fell into the role quickly and with little stumble. He was as good at being a Father as he was at anything else. You lay your head on his shoulder, watching your daughter's eyes flutter in the warmth of her father. You wish she'd be this small forever. You think you could fall asleep like this, despite your surrounding. To the feeling of Satoru's lips on your forehead and your daughter tucked safely in his arms.

The little moment is broken by a short knock on the door and doctor's head peaking into the room. You sit up straight preparing yourself. The doctor briefly introduces herself as she makes her way in followed by a nurse.

"I trust that you understand what this entails," she says. "I can go over it again if you need."

"How bad is this going to hurt her?" Your husband asks, his voice taking on a serious he usually doesn't show. You watch as the nurse sets out the three syringes onto the table, each with a translucent cap.

"I will not lie to you, Gojo-san, this will be uncomfortable. The faster we get this done, the easier it will be on her." Her voice is calm. "However, I also cannot say what side effects may occur or may not occur at all." She gets up to wash her hands in the sink before putting on some gloves. "Please place her on the exam table."

"I might have to hollow purple this place."

"What was that, sir?"

"Nothing."

Satoru gives her the fakest smile you've ever seen on his face while gently laying your baby down. He gently smoothes her unruly, white hair and doesn't let go of her hand. You join him at his side, running your hands down her arm, watching as she turns and bends to look at you. Her gummy smile reminds you so much of Satoru, so full of joy and happiness. You really carried her for nine months for her to be a carbon copy of her father.

"Okay, we're gonna count to three and administer one to each thigh," you nod, steeling yourself. "One, Two, Three..."

Your daughter wails and the shots are done just like that. The doctor and the nurse work quickly and efficiently, caping the used needles. Her piercing cries hurt your heart and you take her into your arms rocking her, trying your best to calm her down. Satoru, on the other hand, looks as though he wants to throw hands with the doctor, the glare behind his dark glasses is harsh.

"I know, baby, I know," you cajole, trying to get her to stop crying. Her crying continues for a while and you give your husband a little helpless look. He catches on quickly and gently takes her from your arms, taking his turn at rocking her against him.

"We're never doing this again," he says. Your daughter finally starts to calm a little. Tears continue to stream down her face but she no longer wails in pain. You wipe her face with your hand, smoothing your hand on her cheek. Your throat feels tight.

The rest of the time from the hospital back to your house is a blur. Your daughter sleeps safely in her nursery having been lulled to sleep from all the crying and some milk.

The both of you are sat on the couch in the living room. The baby monitor placed on the coffee table in front of you. Satoru is in your arms, his head buried in your neck. You sat in his lap, gently combing your hands through his hair. You had two babies to take care of.

"I hated that," he says, a little whiny. "Can we never do that again?"

"She's gonna have to get more no matter what we do."

"If I get rid of every vaccine produced ever and the companies making them, we'll never have to do this again." The statement is ridiculous and is enough to make you laugh which has him whining into you neck again.

"I'M SERIOUS DON'T LAUGHT AT ME." Which only serves to make you giggle harder. You place a kiss on his forehead.

"You're a good father you know," you say, directing the conversation in another direction instead of the doom of pharmaceutical companies at the hands of Gojo Satoru. "She's lucky to have you."

"Of course she is, I'm THE Gojo—" you place your hand over his mouth cutting his bragging short. You take your hand away once you're sure he's not gonna say anything silly. And before he has a chance to lick it.

"I'm being serious."

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

You think back to the conversation you had before your daughter was born. The one where Satoru had spilled his heart out, confiding his fears of being a bad and absent father. You remember being in a similar position as you are now, seated in his lap and running a hand through his hair. You felt him squeeze your waist in the same way, one that told you that despite pretending he didn't need it, even the strongest needed comfort.

"I love you, sweetheart," he murmurs. "Thank you for everything."

"I love you too, toru."

Your lips lock in a soft, gentle kiss. He was your everything and more. The silence between you both is sweet and comfortable as you bask in each other warmth.

Silence, however, never lasts long in the Gojo household. Especially when it comes to Gojo Satoru.

"So what do you say about practicing for our second?"

[starkwlkr]

fever dream | sebastian vettel

part 2 part 3

warnings: toxic soon to be ex husband who cheats on reader (if i miss anything, let me know!!)

update: i decided to make this into a series, thanks for reading!! you can read it here!

AN: THIS SAYS THAT SEB AND THE READER WERE TEAM MATES FOR 2014 AND 2015 THATS A MISTAKE SORRY I ONLY MEANT TO PUT 2014 😭

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yourusername a short trip back home 🤍

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lewishamilton roscoe and i miss you more

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“luke, alison! your aunt y/n is here!” your sister yelled as she opened the door to her home. in a matter of seconds, loud footsteps were heard running down the stairs. “no running!”

but still the kids didn’t listen, they were excited to see their aunt. “hey, my babies! oh my god, you two have grown so much. stop growing!” you hugged your niece and nephew.

“i’m almost as tall as mom!” alison, the younger sister, said.

“liar, that’s just what dad says to make you feel better. i’m going to grow more than you and then i’ll be taller than you.” luke teased.

“you both can be tall, but never as tall as me.” you joked as you placed a kiss on their cheeks.

“are you going to stay with us forever?” alison asked innocently. “dad said that you don’t want to stay with your husband anymore and you’re going to stay with us.”

“alison!”

the truth was hard for little kids to understand. yes, you were going to stay with your sister for a few days and yes, you didn’t want to stay with your husband anymore, but it was a bit more complicated than that. your husband had cheated, lied, manipulated you and you had enough. he was the reason you couldn’t come back to the sport you loved and worked your whole life for.

“well i am going to be staying here, but not forever. i just needed a break from him, it’s normal.” you tried to explain to the girl.

“but my mom and dad don’t take breaks?”

“alison, just go to your room, you too luke, please. dinner is going to be ready in an hour.” your sister said, feeling embarrassed that alison would ask those questions.

“what did i do?” the older boy whines as he and his sister walked up to their rooms.

“i’m sorry. i spoke to jack the night you called. we were cleaning up the table after dinner, i assume she heard.” your sister explained.

“it’s okay, they’ll understand when they’re older. not everyone is cut out to be loved . . .”

or a mother.

only a few people had known about your issues with infertility, your sister and lewis being two of them. after you retired from f1, you were sure that in a couple months, you were going to be busy with doctor’s appointments, buying baby clothes and building a crib, but none of that happened. after a year of trying, you were convinced you weren’t meant to be a mom.

you thought about returning to the track, after all many drivers returned after saying they were retiring, why couldn’t you? but that plan was spoiled by the man you thought loved you.

“you can’t go back, you don’t belong there. it’s a man’s sport. you’re probably going to crash in the first lap anyways.”

you didn’t know why you stayed with him, but you did. maybe it was the promises he kept telling you about or the hopefulness that one day you would become parents and maybe he would change. but again, none of that happened.

“um, i have to call someone. i’ll be right back. excuse me.” you told your sister as you walked to the patio door and exited the house. without hesitating, you clicked on a familiar contact. you held your phone against your ear and waited for the person on the other end to pick up. it felt like forever, but eventually they picked up the call.

“hello?”

[xiao-come-home]

I love reading your random Boothill thoughts 🥲. Especially the one where he is a dad. Do you think he is a girl dad or boy dad?

Ahhh thank you! Ik you sent it before his story was leaked but man was this spot on 🫠 here’s some dad!boothill hc with reader because im starving

Warning: mentions of pregnant reader and all that jazz, SPOILERS FOR BOOTHILLS STORY.

I FELT IN MY BONES he was a girl dad before it was revealed to be canon! Boothill gives so much girl dad vibes it’s immaculate. He’d love to pick out pink clothes for his daughter, pink shoes, ponies and other plushies! Or rather, he loved.

That’s until you happened to get pregnant shortly before he left for his surgery. He came back a few weeks later with his new body, but no one was home. A small gift bag sat on the table, waiting for him; Boothill opened the bag and grabbed a piece of long paper, a black and white picture. A small bean present in the middle; the back of the picture held a tiny caption, that read: “I’m only a few weeks old. I can’t wait to meet you, daddy.”

Even though the wound was still fresh and open, since not long has passed since the incident on his planet - Boothill began to feel bitter determination to give his baby the best life they could ever have; this time, a life that wouldn’t see its end so fast.

Boothill is very interested in your pregnancy! He’s sometimes unable to go to every appointment (whether be it the ipc who are hunting him, or the opposite), but he knows he can’t mess it up. Not again. He’s always holding your hand when you have an ultrasound scan, glaring at the doctor and making sure they don’t hurt you or the baby, and giving your tummy so. many. kisses. He assists you in the bath, just talking to you can keeping you company, since water, cords and a pregnant human aren’t a good combo. He wants you to tell him everything.

That’s when you finally tell Boothill that you’ll have a baby girl - his mechanic heart shatters and swells with love at the same time; it’s such a strange feeling, that makes the cowboy feel a little guilty. Both of you fall silent, until Boothill makes a move and closes the distance between you, smiling sadly at you and softly caressing your stomach with his hand, “I’ll treasure her forever.”

There are days when Boothill truly feels like the hole in his heart cannot be healed after your first daughter, but he knows she’d love to have a little sister. Yet he’s here, now a cyborg and the only memory of her is just one, lonely picture. He makes sure to never let her existence fade away by telling your round tummy that he’ll love them both until the end.

On a happier note, Boothill is just. Such a good dad, but also a chaotic one sometimes, especially if your daughter inherits her dad’s personality. They’re doing everything together - if she wants to have her hair braided, he does so, and lets her braid his (even if his hair gets so tangled at first, to the point he has to cut it 😭), good god! He loves her so much and always hugs her so tightly when she runs up to him after she notices her dad is back home.

Boothill just loves hearing her little giggles and always makes her laugh! Sometimes he tickles her so much she throws her plushies at him.

Boothill wants all her milestones to be forever preserved. He has tons of pictures of her, a few photo albums - it’s never enough. He’s so proud when she says her first word, when she takes her first steps by herself, her first drawing for him (even if she drew it on the fridge with a black marker), her first birthday. He wants to give her everything she could ever have.

Boothill might've cried the night when his little baby drew him a family portrait - with you, herself, her daddy and older sister. He's injected in her every possible good memory about her, and she never fails to appreciate her older sister even if she isn't there, knowing her dad still loves her just as much.

When Boothill’s little princess cancels the weekly tea party he’s always attended, it’s HIM who feels sad about and pouty about it.

Boothill buys his daughter tons of different hats! They’re always carefully picked and he makes sure she likes them waiting for her approval, but most of the time she wants to just wear his. She doesn’t care she’s drowning in it, it’s the best because it’s Boothill’s hat.

Even though Boothill never mentioned her anything about playing guitar, one day she started to play him a tiny bit of song she learned at school - although clumsily and due to stress, Boothill listened to her and threw her in the air in happiness when she finished - he knew it was your job and couldn’t be more thankful. Once again, he made yet another guitar in his life - this time to finally listen to his little one’s music and teach her many, many other songs they’d later play and sing together.

Oh god, when Boothill’s daughter announced her “boyfriend” she met at daycare, he just stared at her with wide eyes. This is also an instance where he cried that night and you had to calm him down. Later on he insisted to be the one to take her to daycare, and gently threatened the said toddler, “look, stinker. Don’t ya dare GET NEAR ma lil’ angel, or else.” This was his last visit without your supervision. And also, your daughter just laughed at him and left… so yeah, plan failed successfully, I guess?

Mandatory naps with daddy after daycare. Well, Boothill only pretends to sleep when she looks at him - but once she falls asleep on his chest, he looks at her with so much love, gently resting on his chest and stroking her hair, that was just like his and adoring her tiny face, that he thought was the most perfect mix of you and him. Boothill shushes you with his finger quietly, when you ungraciously enter your home. A content smile appears on his lips when you give him and your daughter an apologetic kiss on their foreheads, still hearing her snoozing tenderly.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Bonding

Summary: You and Javi just brought your daughter Lucy home from the hospital. While the two of you couldn't be more in love and excited at the addition of your newest family member, it doesn't mean that you both aren't feeling some of the nerves of being first time parents.

Word Count: 2.4K (She's reasonable, your honor)

Pairing: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: This is honestly just pure, sweet, sickening, fluff, mentions of body insecurity postpartum, worry/anxiety about being a first time parent, Javi snuggling a newborn baby skin on skin (it needs a warning fr), Javi being the cutest dad ever to exist, Javi is in full on dad mode, ladies and gents (gn) 🫡

A/N: This was inspired after reading @kteague adorable post about Frankie carrying his daughter in a baby sling, and I couldn't help but picture sweet Javi as a first time dad cuddling with his baby girl 😭🥺 and to @endlessthxxghts for being a bad influence 💀Y ou know for a fact that Lucy's got Javi wrapped around her finger from the moment she's born, and picturing the adorable bond these two have makes me want to melt into a puddle 🫠 also I have a raging case of baby fever, but let's pretend that wasn't entirely the motive to write this or that I'm not projecting at all WHOOPS

Part of the Forever and Always Series!!

From the moment you had found out you were pregnant, you had no doubt that Javi was going to be nothing short of the best dad you could have ever hoped for. Before your daughter was even born, Javi had completely flipped the switch into full Dad Mode, spending the past 9 months coming with you to every single doctor’s appointment, baby proofing every square inch of your home, and checking out (and re-checking out) every parenting book he could get his hands on at the library. 

So it was safe to say, that once you brought Lucy home from the hospital to start your life together as a family of 3, if Javi hadn’t already been full force into Dad Mode, he sure as hell was now, and was going to do anything and everything he could to make sure that the two most important girls in his life were showered with every ounce of love and affection he had. 

It was also safe to say that even though he wouldn’t admit it, Javi was also an absolute nervous wreck at the reality that he was now actually a dad to a tiny newborn daughter that had been brought into the world. 

“You think that her diaper is snug enough? Should I get a bottle ready just in case she gets hungry? Different pajamas to sleep in before we put her down?” Javi asked, carefully cradling Lucy against his chest as you passed her off to him, planting a soft kiss on her head, gently bouncing her up and down. 

“Javi,” You laughed leaning in to give your sleepy daughter a kiss on the messy tufts of hair ruffled on her head before looking back up at your husband, “I’m going to take a shower, not leaving for war. I’ll be quick, so that way if she needs me then I’ll-” 

“Hermosa,” he paused, raising an eyebrow at you as he smiled, “take as long as you need, okay? I’m just asking to make sure so I don’t have to bother you. Take an hour, hell, take 3 hours for all I care, you deserve it, Momma. I can’t imagine how exhausted you are. Me and Lucy Goosey will be just fine, won’t we, mi amor (my love)?” 

The two of you smiled as Lucy quietly cooed, your grin spreading even wider watching Javi’s face light up with joy as he looked down at his daughter, your heart practically bursting at the seams with how in love he was with her. But even through the pure bliss in Javi’s eyes, you couldn’t help but sense a nervous twinge in his voice, knowing that in the short day and a half that you’d been home from the hospital, even though you were only a room away, this was the first time that Javi was in charge of Lucy all by himself. And because you knew your husband better than you knew yourself, you knew that despite the fact Javi was probably better prepared for parenting than you were, he was secretly terrified he was going to do something that would hurt his precious baby girl, and the thought of that? That scared the shit out of him. 

“Javi?” You said again, gently rubbing your hand against his arm, forcing his gaze to shift on to you and your tired smile. “Honey, you know you’re an amazing dad right? But, I can guarantee that even though we would do anything and everything for this stinker, we’re gonna mess up at some point. You love her so much, and that’s all that matters, okay? I love you, Jav.” 

You could feel some of the tension begin to ease from Javi’s body, looking back down at Lucy before back to you, taking in a deep breath, and softly nodding his head to himself. 

“I know, it’s just- She’s so perfect. I wanna give her everything. I just, I just wanna be a good dad. I just want her to know that I love her so much.” 

As if you weren’t already an emotional mess, watching the tears well in Javi’s eyes as he gazed down at Lucy, looking at her like she was the only thing the world that existed, had your hormonal heart bursting into a million pieces, now trying to wipe your own wetness streaming down your cheeks. 

“Javi, I don’t think it’s possible for you to love that little girl anymore than you already do.��� You sighed, stepping in to press a kiss onto Javi’s lips before another onto Lucy’s head. “Okay, I’m gonna go shower before I become even more of a hot mess than I already am. You sure you’re gonna be okay?” 

“Thanks, Osita. We’ll be just fine. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Jav.” 

“And hey, you’re not a hot mess, just hot.” Javi smirked, making you roll your eyes as you gestured to yourself and the undeniably disheveled state you were in. 

“Javi, I look like I just rolled out of a dumpster. I am literally wearing an adult sized diaper.” 

“And no one’s ever made an adult sized diaper look hotter, Hermosa.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a snort, shaking your head at your husband as you finally turned to head out of the nursery, giving Javi and Lucy one last wave before disappearing out of the door frame and into the bathroom for a much needed shower. 

“Alright, it’s just you and me, pollita (little chicken).” Javi smiled, rocking Lucy against your chest, taking a deep breath of reassuring confidence, feeling more self-assured about his time alone. “Let’s get you into some pajamas, huh?” With another kiss on Lucy’s head, Javi carefully laid her down on her changing table, reaching into one of the drawers to pull out a tiny onesie covered in pink flowers and strawberries. 

He couldn’t help but laugh to himself at how absolutely tiny the pair of pajamas felt in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief at the fact that all of this was real- for so long, Javi had been convinced a family of his own would never be in the cards for him, and for as much as it hurt, he’d come to accept it. But when you had come into his life and given him the second chance that he had so desperately longed for, he still couldn’t quite believe how he had deserved to find himself here with a beautiful family, a wife and daughter he loved more than life itself, and how he couldn’t have been happier to be dressing his newborn baby girl into a pair of tiny pink pajamas. 

Checking Lucy’s diaper and tossing her clothes into the hamper, Javi zipped her up into her pajamas, noticing that she was starting to get squirmy and fussy, he quickly picked her back up, pressed against his chest as he made his way over to the rocking chair in the corner of the nursery. 

Despite the steady movement back and forth and the gentle rocking, Lucy’s cries only started to become louder, Javi trying his best to keep calm despite the fact his heart was racing, thinking he had already done something wrong to upset his daughter in the few short minutes they had been together. 

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhhhh, it’s okay bebita, it’s okay.” Javi cooed, gently patting Lucy’s back to try and soothe her. “What’s wrong, huh? It’s not your diaper, Momma fed you before she got in the shower, I wonder if it’s-” 

Before Javi could finish the rest of his mental checklist outloud, he was looking down at his shoulder to see the little dribbles of spit-up drooling from Lucy’s mouth onto his shirt, quietly laughing to himself at the mystery that had seemed to solve itself. 

“Alright, well that was easy. Let’s get you cleaned up, messy miss.” 

Standing up to bring Lucy back to the changing table, he laid her down to reach into another drawer to grab one of the many burp cloths that had been stored away to wipe up Lucy’s little face before he was back to the pajama drawer, pulling out another pair to change her into. But as he tossed Lucy’s second outfit in 10 minutes into the laundry, he couldn’t help but notice the giant spit stain drenching his own shoulder. Not wanting to have to lay Lucy back into his damp shirt, he stared down at his daughter in nothing but her diaper, thinking back to the advice from the plethora of parenting books he had consumed and a few days ago after Lucy’s birth, where the nurses had been adamant about making sure both you and Javi spent plenty of skin on skin time with the baby. 

Trying to fight off any self-doubt or need for reassurance, Javi took a deep breath as he stared down at Lucy, still restless and crying on her changing table before stripping his own shirt and tossing it in with the other tiny items of laundry that had quickly accumulated throughout the day. 

“Okay, c’mere mi amorcita (my little love), it’s okay, I’ve got you. Shhhhhh, I’ve got you, baby girl.” Javi cooed, carefully cradling his daughter to his bare chest, feeling the heat of her tiny body pressed against his as he sat back down in the rocking chair, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t cry, pollita, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

After a few seconds of whispered reassurances and gentle rocks back and forth, Javi let out a quiet sigh of relief as Lucy’s cries began to lessen, slowly fading from wails to muffled tears against Javi’s chest. 

“That’s it, see, it’s okay, baby girl.” Javi softly smiled, pressing a tender kiss into Lucy’s soft hair before reaching over to the small bookshelf next to the rocking chair, pulling a well loved copy of “Goodnight Moon” into his lap, trying his best to maneuver it open to the first page with his one free hand. “You never got to meet your Grandma Lucia, but that’s who you’re named after. A long time ago, this was Daddy’s favorite book to listen to her read. This is his book when he was a little boy, and now I’m so happy it gets to be yours.” Almost as if little Lucy knew, her crying began to calm even more to listen to her dad as he began to read. 

“In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon and a picture of…” 

As Javi began to read each page, Lucy became quieter and quieter, and by the time they had said goodnight to kittens and mittens, and clocks and socks, Little Lucy was sound asleep on Javi’s chest, her soft snores rumbling on his skin. 

“Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere. And goodnight my sweet Lucy Goosey. Daddy loves you so much.” Javi cooed, gently rubbing his thumb in circles along Lucy’s back as he tilted his head against the back of the rocking chair, the back and forth and weight of his sleeping daughter on his chest slowly just enough to the weight of his eyelids droop to a close right along side Lucy’s. 

After a long, hot, and much needed shower, you had changed into some new pajamas, throwing your still damp hair into a towel as you headed down the hallway towards the nursery, surprised and slightly concerned by the lack of noise coming from the room. 

“Hey baby, I’m all done with the shower if you want me too- Oh my god.” Before you could even make it all the way through the door, you were stopped in your tracks, covering your mouth with your hand to try and cope with the cuteness overload that was in front of you. 

There, in the corner of the room sat Javi and Lucy in the rocking chair, the pair sound asleep and snoring as Lucy lay against his bare chest, “Goodnight Moon”  half open and slipping out of Javi’s lap from what you assumed had to have been the book he was reading to her before they clonked out. 

Your footsteps down the hallway must have been enough to wake Javi to the point that his eyes began to blink open, scrunching his face in a half awake yawn as he recognized your frame in the doorway, quickly shaking his head to bring himself back to full consciousness, immediately looking down at his chest to make sure Lucy was still there before looking back at you and the lovestruck grin spread between your cheeks. 

“You two having a good nap?” You giggled quietly, making your way over to stand next to the rocking chair, gently running your hand through the dark curls of Javi’s messy, sleep ridden hair, kissing his forehead, admiring your tiny daughter perched on your husband’s chest. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, hermosa. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep.” Javi whispered, steadying his grip around Lucy as he sat up straighter. 

“Javi, don’t apologize, baby. I’m glad that you were able to get her to sleep for you. Did you read her “Goodnight Moon”? Glad to know it still works like a charm. I think she must already have it memorized at this point.” You smiled, picking the book up off of Javi’s lap, turning through the well worn pages, knowing how excited Javi had been to finally read it to her as he held her, despite all of the times he had read it to your belly while you were pregnant when it was the only ways to bring you some relief from the constant kicking in your last trimester. 

“Yeah we did, didn’t we, sleepy girl? Although I didn’t realize that “Goodnight Dad” was the last page of the book I must have been missing all this time.” Javi laughed, readjusting Lucy as she let out a tiny yawn, stretching her little body against Javi’s. 

“Well, if every time you read “Goodnight Moon” to this little cutie, you end up shirtless with Lucy asleep on your chest, I don’t think that I’ll have anything to ever complain about again, except for the fact I’m gonna die of cuteness. God, you two are so adorable. You have a good time with your Daddy, baby girl? I hope you know that you’ve got him wrapped around your little tiny finger, Little Miss. He loves you so much.” 

“God, you’ve got that right. Have you ever seen anything so perfect? She’s perfect, Osita. I love her more than anything. I love our family so much. Thank you.” Javi whispered, trying to fight back the tears welling in his eyes. 

“Thank me for what, Javi?” 

“For giving me everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Taglist

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

[scarlethexelove]

Please do part 4 of why, it’s amazing, I need more!!

Forever Mine

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word count: 2382

Warnings: Pregnant!Reader, Smut, Strap-On, Cum Strap, Soft!Agatha, Possessive!Agatha, Overstimulation, Marking, Not much else

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 5

A/n: Hopefully this is good. I'm not sure if I'm going to go much further than this. This story has gone a lot further than I had ever expect. I'm glad people like it though.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

The car pulls into the driveway. You and your mom have just gotten back from your latest doctor's appointment. You’re still terrified to be a mother but seeing your little girl on the sonogram has you knowing that you are doing the right thing. Even though she came about in a way that has hurt you deeply you still can’t wait to meet her. 

You can see Agatha working out in her yard planting flowers. Her eyes trained on the car as it pulled up. Her gaze falls to you as you open the car door. A small smile on her face as she sees your swollen stomach, carrying her child. But her face soon falls when you don’t even bat an eye at her struggling to get out of the car. “Hold on sweetheart.” Wanda gets out of the car and circles it to your side. She helps you get out of the car. 

“How are you doing Y/n?” Agatha’s voice is heard as you turn your head looking at her. You hadn’t even noticed that she had come up to the fence separating your respective yards. You roll your eyes and start making your way to the house missing the hurt look on Agatha’s face. “Sweetheart.” Wanda calls out to you before you make it too far away. “What Mom?” Your words are a little harsher than you meant. “Don’t take that tone with me Y/n.” Wanda scolds you. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I didn’t mean to.” Wanda walks over towards you and gently strokes your shoulders. “It’s ok sweetheart, but maybe you should just hear Agatha out.” Your brows furrow at your Moms words. “Why should I? Why are you taking her side? You of all people shouldn’t trust her.” You can’t help but feel slightly hurt by her words. Your Mom shakes her head. “I know your hurt sweetheart but she is the Mother of your baby. There is more at work in the universe that you just don’t know yet.” 

Wanda had never told you about the rest of the conversation that she had with Agatha that day. She said she would but she eventually told you that you should talk to Agatha but you refuse to. Wanda may not like Agatha but after looking more into her words she knows that she is right. So she tries to get you just to talk to the woman. She knows that she will never get rid of the woman and it is better to be civil with her than to continue to fight. They had come to an agreement soon after the confrontation. 

You let out a long sigh before nodding your head. Wanda kisses your head before you walk over to Agatha. Her face brightens up as you walk around into her yard. For a woman who is typically so strong and just exudes power to see her much more reserved is strange. A softer side being shown to you that you would have never expected. 

“Hi.” Agatha says to you as you come to a stop in front of her, her eyes dragging over your body. You give a small smile. “Agatha.” She holds out her hand for you. “Let's go inside.” You don’t take her hand just walking past her towards the front door. The older woman lets her hand drop before she rushes after you. She gets in front of you and opens the door for you. You thank her before heading inside.

Memories of that night play in your head as you look around the room. You can’t help the feeling growing in your lower stomach but you try to push it away. A longing for the woman, a pull to her you just can’t explain. But you ignore it and make your way to her couch and sit down. Agatha follows shortly and sits down next to you. The room is silent, thick with tension. You fidget with your hands in front of your stomach looking down. It is hard to find the words to say. Anxiety bubbling deep inside of you. Agatha doesn’t say anything just waiting for you, not wanting to push you before you are ready. 

“Why?” You look up at her, your eyes shining with tears. “I trusted you and you used me and for what.” Agatha sits for a moment mulling over the words she wants to tell you. “I… Y/n I do care for you.” You chuckle at her words. “That doesn’t answer my question, Agatha. You want to talk then fucking talk to me then or I’m just going to go home.” Agatha shakes her head. “No wait. I can explain.” You sigh waiting for her to continue. “The universe wanted us together. I wanted you. I went about all of this all wrong but how was I supposed to tell you that you were destined to carry my child.” Agatha tells you. You're baffled by her words, what does she mean, destined to carry her child. “I don’t understand.” You say. “The darkhold talks of a prophecy. A descendant of the Scarlet Witch… your mother with no power and a witch of ancient power will create a child that will save the multiverse. An unbreakable bond tying us together.”

It takes you time to mull over her words. Your daughter is going to save the multiverse. You're somehow bonded now to Agatha. It makes sense on how you keep feeling a pull towards the woman no matter how much you have wanted to ignore her and to never speak to her again. But you can’t deny the undeniable desire to be closer to her. It has been hard on you and it all now makes sense. 

“Aggie, why didn’t you just talk to me?” You ask her. She smiles when hearing the nickname. You have only been calling her by her full name so it makes her more confident that she is getting to you. “Would you have said yes if I did?” She questions a brow raised in question. “I don’t know.” You say honestly. She has a point. You're young and didn’t expect to already be having a kid. You love your daughter so much already but you are scared you aren’t ready. “I took the initiative. I accept that you hate me for it but I did what I thought was right.” You sigh and close your eyes. Soon opening them back up and looking into her eyes. “I don’t hate you Aggie. I was just hurt.” 

Agatha cups your cheek in her hand rubbing her thumb against your cheek. You can’t help but nuzzle lightly into her hand. A comfort you have missed and craved. She leans in and kisses you softly. Pouring all of the love she holds for you into the kiss. A kiss that soon becomes more heated. Her hand moving down your sides and gripping your hips. A moan escaping your lips when her tongue pushes into your mouth. Her hands are gripping your hips, harsher a heated makeout session causing you to become needy. When you two are forced to part you lean your forehead against hers. Your breaths mingling in the air between you two. “Take me to bed.” You mumble. 

Agatha lifts you into her arms making you squeak and wrap your arms around her neck as she carries you bridal style. She chuckles pecking your lips as she walks you back to her bedroom. She kicks open the door causing you to chuckle. She gently lays you on the bed in a stack of pillows. She crawls on the bed hovering over you with a smile on your face. “Are you comfortable princess?” You nod your head reaching out for her but she sits up out of your reach which causes you to whine. “Patients.”

You sit up on the bed still trying to reach out for her. Anticipation and need for the women bubbling over. Agatha pushes you gently back down a smirk playing on her lips. “I know princess. You’re so needy for me. Bet you haven’t had a good orgasm since I fucked you dumb.” You can’t help but moan and squirm. “Aggie.” You whine. “Don’t worry princess I’m going to fuck you so good.” Agatha now exudes that knowing powerful energy, the one that you fell for. You loved seeing the softer side for you but this side is so hot. 

All of your clothes disappear with a wave of Agatha’s hand, your nipples hardening at the cold air. You bite your lip looking at her naked form a dark purple strap secured around her waist. She parts your tights, your arousal coating your thighs which makes her groan. “So fucking wet for me and I haven’t even touched you yet. Are you going to be my good little whore why fuck that needy pussy of yours.” You nod your head reaching out for her again. This time she lets you pull her closer. The strap bumping against your clit, her lips attaching themselves to your neck. She nips and sucks leaving behind reddish purple marks. 

“You’re mine. Forever mine princess.” Agatha mumbles against your skin. Her hand groping your breast and pinching your hardened peaks. You grind your hips against hers as the strap continues to bump against your clit. Making you more needy for her. “Please Aggie, I need you.” You plead with her. She moves her hand down to her strap, swiping it through your folds causing both of you to moan. Lining her strap with your entrance before slowly sinking further into your heat. 

Your walls stretch to accommodate Agatha’s thick strap. A deliciously painful stretch the further she sinks in until she is fully sheathed in you. She waits for you to accommodate her size not wanting to hurt you. Your hips start to grind into hers letting her know that you are ready. “I’m going to fill this needy little pussy. So full of my cum you will be leaking.” Your eyes widen a little but that just makes Agatha have a sinister smirk. “Oh princess, did you forget you're already carrying my child? I can pump you as much of my cum as I want.” She thrusts her hips into you at a steady pace. 

Moans fall from your lips as Agatha fucks herself into you. “Fuck please fill me. W-want your cum.” This causes Agatha to moan. Hearing her moan causes your walls to squeeze her strap which only makes her moan more. Being able to feel your walls tighten around her strap as she fucks into you. Her hips speeding up chasing both of your orgasms. “Don’t worry princess. I’ll make you my cute little cum dump.” 

You grind your hips to meet her thrusts. Agatha’s hand snakes between your bodies slipping her hand between your legs. She leans back down wrapping her lips around your perk nipple. She rakes her teeth over your nipple before sucking. You moan, hands moving to grip at her back, and you dig your nails in. You can feel her everywhere overwhelming your senses, your only thoughts are of Agatha. “Fuck these tits, can’t wait till their full of milk. Gonna suck you dry.” She mumbles around your nipple sucking harshly. Your nails raking down her back as your hips back into her. 

Agatha circles your clit faster as you grow closer to your orgasm. Feeling your walls squeeze her tighter. Your legs slightly shake the closer you grow. Her hips become more erratic as her knot grows. Her mouth moves to your other nipple giving it the same attention. You leave red angry lines down her back as you grow closer. “W-wanna cum.” You manage to say through moans. Agatha smirks against your nipple as she keeps thrusting into your sloshing cunt. Her finger pressing into your clit. “Cum with me princess.” She mumbles around your nipple about ready to burst herself. 

You don’t hesitate when she tells you to cum. Your walls tighten and back arches lightly. Your cum coating her strap as your orgasm washes over you. Agatha isn’t far behind you as her hips stutter and she cums painting your walls white. But her ministrations don’t stop. She continues to pull orgasm after orgasm from your body until you're overly sensitive. Hips finally come to a stop before pulling out gently. You whimper from sensitivity and emptiness. “Sorry princess.” Agatha apologizes seeing your reaction. She watches as cum leaks out of your abused hole just as she had said she would do to you. Mesmerized by your quivering hole desperate to keep her cum inside.  

“So beautiful.” Agatha whispers into the air, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. She lays down next to you pulling you into her side. You cuddle into her and lay your head on her chest. Agatha waves her hand cleaning both of your bodies except for the cum leaking out of you. You look up at her confused and see a smirk. “Want you to stay full of my cum princess.” She kisses your lips. You're too tired to argue with her but you also love the feeling. So you settle in closing your eyes. 

Agatha’s voice breaks the silence. “I love you.” She whispers, you almost didn’t hear it. You look back up at her, your chin on her chest. “What?” You can’t hide the confusion with a tinge of hope in your voice. “Y/n Maximoff I love you.” You gasp. “I love you too.” You lean up kissing her. Your mind and body giving up to the undeniable bond that has formed. You lean back and get comfortable. Agatha gently caresses stomach and smiles. “I can’t wait to meet your little girl.” You smile at her returned softness. “Me too.” 

You finally feel ready to have your daughter knowing that Agatha will be by your side now. Things didn’t start the way you had expected but you know now that this was the way it had to be. You place your hand on top of hers, love swelling in your heart. The little family of yours falling right into place. With a smile on your face you let yourself drift off to sleep.

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Atlas: Should we head back? Asher: Not just yet. I, um, actually want to talk to you about something. Atlas: Okay. Asher: Right. Okay. The thing is, I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and… Atlas: And?

Asher: And I want us to have kids.  

Atlas: Oh.

Altas: Ash, I don’t— Asher: I know.

Asher: I know we already decided we weren’t going to, and I know I said I was okay with that, and I meant it at the time, I did, but I don’t think I am okay with that anymore, and I know you’re worried, but honestly you’re the most caring and nurturing person I’ve ever met, and I know you’d be such an amazing father, and there’s no way anyone could ever feel unwanted by you, least of all—

Atlas: No. It’s not that.

Asher: What then? Atlas: [sighs] Is this really the right time to be talking about this? Asher: Well, that’s the thing, we don’t really have a lot of time. My eggs… I have exactly one year, three months, and six days to either use them or donate them before they’re destroyed.

Atlas: [let’s out a forceful exhale] So, it’s now or never? Asher: Only if we want biological children. Atlas: Only if we want… shit. SHIT.

Atlas: Ash, we just quit our jobs! It’s going to be hard enough to stretch our savings to last us a year, which is hopefully enough time to finish this game and market it and release it and HOPE it’s successful enough to make money. It’s one thing to take this kind of risk when it’s just the two of us, but to bring a child into it just feels… irresponsible. And we’re already looking into a bigger place, but then we’d need an even bigger place. But it doesn’t even matter because our savings will already be drained between the procedure and a surrogate and doctor’s appointments and furnishing a nursery and baby formula and diapers and a million other things I haven’t even thought of yet.

Asher: I hear you; I do. And we can talk about all of that, but it’s not really worth the stress unless we’re serious. So, can we just put a pin in it for one minute and pretend that money is not an issue? Atlas: I don’t think I can do that. Asher: Try? Please? Just give me sixty seconds and answer one question for me. Atlas: [sighs] Okay.

Asher: Do you want to have kids with me?

Atlas: [nodding] Asher: Yes? Atlas: Yes.

Asher: Oh, thank god!!

Atlas: Can I get back to panicking now? Asher: Not yet. Can’t we just enjoy the rest of our vacation and panic when we get home?

Atlas: No.

Asher: Do you still make anything off that app you made forever ago? Atlas: Hardly. But I could revamp it. And I could probably do some side jobs here and there. Asher: I could sell a bunch of my art on Plopsy. Atlas: That’s a good idea.  

Asher: It’s not gonna be enough, though, is it? Atlas: I doubt it. How do we even do this? Where do we start? Asher: I’m not sure. We should talk to my mom when we get back. Atlas: Oh, she’s going to be excited. Asher: Very. I’m kind of excited too. Atlas: Me too. This is going to be one hell of a year.

[stevesbipanic]

@steddielovemonth Day 28: Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him. @starryeyedjanai

"Steve!" Robin clicked her fingers in front of Steve's face, Steve turned towards her, "Have you heard a thing I said?"

"Sure, I was listening."

"No you weren't you weren't looking at me, I wasn't born yesterday, Evie."

Steve smiled slyly, "Fine what were you saying about your date with Nancy," he replied pointedly looking at her lips this time.

Robin cracked a giddy grin, "The rollerskating was a great idea she held my hand all night cause you know I'm a klutz!"

Steve laughed turning to continue stacking the tapes. Robin poked her head round him at the sound of the front bell.

"Eddie!" She said tapping Steve and pointing. Steve grinned at the metalhead wiggling his fingers in a wave.

"Stevie! How's my favourite future cyborg, you ready to go?" Steve liked watching Eddie talk, the way his lips moved.

"Thanks for driving him, Ed, it was hard enough convincing him to go to the first appointment, wanna make sure he actually gets them."

"Course, Bucks, happy to babysit our favourite babysitter."

Steve punched out his card and gathered his things from the back. The drive to the doctor's office was quick, the thrum of Eddie's mixtapes vibrating the van. Steve always liked hanging out with Eddie, he liked loud.

He really wanted to hold Eddie's hand once they were sat in the bright white office. The cold walls were a little too similar to the bunker, but he'd promised Robin.

"It'll be a little weird when we first turn them on but you should adjust within a week." The doctor explained before fiddling with the device. A few seconds later the tune of the radio flooded his ears, Steve perked up a smile gracing his face. He looked over at Eddie, "I can hear the radio!" Eddie grinned widely in return.

Later, back at the trailer Steve was enjoying hearing the movie playing, happy to not have to rely on the limited subtitled movies Hawkins had to offer. He could hear Eddie finishing dinner in the background, it warmed his heart feeling somewhat normal again.

"Hear you go, sweetheart," Eddie said passing Steve a bowl of spaghetti, plopping down beside him, it was nice, hearing Eddie's voice more clearly now.

He paused the movie as Eddie started monologuing about something that had happened at the garage that morning. Steve wasn't really paying attention, too busy watching Eddie's lips. He wanted to tell Eddie how he felt but he didn't want to lose this.

"Stevie?"

"Hmm?" He replied not looking away from Eddie's mouth.

"Your hearing aids stop working? You've been reading my lips."

Steve blushed, "Um no, I heard you just fine."

Eddie paused before smirking, "See something you like then, sweetheart?"

Steve smiled in return, "Maybe, maybe I just need you to come closer to hear better."

Eddie leaned forward, glancing down at Steve's lips, "Better?"

"Hmm, little closer, don't want to miss anything you say, very important."

Eddie was barely a breath away, all Steve had to do was close the gap, "Stevie." Eddie said Steve's name like a promise and Steve couldn't help moving forward, brushing his lips against Eddie's.

He's glad he listened to Robin and got the hearing aides, he wanted to memorise the sound of Eddie's gasps and moans forever.

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 4)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: After battling the symptoms of touch deprivation for weeks, Y/N sees Harry again in Chicago and he helps her deal with the worst of it.

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3

Word Count: 4.9k

Y/N POV

“You haven’t had a nightmare in 4 days?” Rachel asks.

“Nope!” You reply happily, taking a sip of your iced caramel latte. You and Rachel both have a free afternoon and decided to meet at a local cafe. You feel so much better than you had for the last few weeks that you felt confident to order a different drink. No tea that reminds you of Sarah, no hot chocolate that makes you think of Harry.

“And you’re not using those coping mechanisms you mentioned?”

“Haven’t needed them in days.”

“And you’re still not going to tell me what they were?” You blush at this question, embarrassed by the truth.

“No, that secret may come with me to the grave,” you joke.

Rachel looks at you, slightly worried and says, “It was safe right? You weren’t like, drugging yourself to sleep were you?”

“Oh God no!” You reply with a laugh. “Nothing like that, I swear.” Though you think to yourself that Harry’s scent in its direct form would probably be so delicious that it would act like a drug to you.

“Okay, I trust you,” Rachel says. “So, have you heard from Harry?”

You sigh, slightly disappointed by the answer you have to give. “Not since the night of the concert. I’m sure he’s been busy.”

“Maybe you should text him first.”

“And maybe you are out of your mind. No way. And before you say anything, it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm the girl or he’s the alpha or any of that sexist bullshit. It has everything to do with the fact that he’s Harry Styles.” You whisper the last part, aware that you’re in public and anyone around could hear the conversation.

“So what if he’s Harry Styles?”

“What would I even text him?”

“You could start with ‘Hi, how are you?’”

“Very funny. I mean, I guess I could. Maybe. I’ll give it a couple more days.”

“Waiting for him to leave the area?”

“Something like that,” you reply.

“Speaking of procrastinating things,” Rachel says teasingly, “have you called your doctor yet? To find out why that alpha knew you’re an omega even though you’re on suppressants and scent blockers?”

“Okay, that I did not procrastinate on. I called her but I can’t get an appointment until November.”

“Seriously?”

“Yea. I mean there aren’t a lot of doctors who specialize in omegas, so they’re always booked. Anyway, she said that my body has probably just developed a resistance to the pills. She’ll try to change my regimen after the appointment and told me to use the spray on neutralizers until then.”

“That sucks.”

“It does. I am so not looking forward to changing meds. It takes awhile to find the right combo and then there’ll be all new side effects. But it’ll be worth it.”

“I wish omegas didn’t have to hide who they are.”

“Me too. But that’s just how it is now.”

From there the conversation turns to lighter topics until you part ways to continue your day.

Another week passes and you still haven’t heard from Harry. On top of that the bad dreams come back, along with the restlessness, and chills. You’ve started using the old coping mechanisms again, which barely work this time around.

The morning after his final show in New York City, your social media is flooded with videos of him receiving his banner at Madison Square Garden. If there was any time to reach out to him, now was it. He said he wanted to be friends, right? A friend would absolutely congratulate him on this achievement.

It still takes you forever to type out the message, and ever longer to find the courage to press send. It’s nearly noon by the time you text Harry, “Congrats on the banner!”

It’s a simple sentence, just four words, and you still find a way to overthink everything for the two hours it takes Harry to reply. You’re taking a walk, grateful once again that you work on your own schedule and can take a break when you need one. And right now, you need one. Because you texted a celebrity and he still hasn’t answered and you for sure made a complete fool of yourself.

You stop dead in your tracks when your phone buzzes and Harry’s name appears on your screen.

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Can’t believe I got such an honor. How are you? What are you up to?

There’s a bench nearby and you sit to reread his message five times before replying.

To Harry Styles: You deserve it! I’m good, just out for a walk. How about you?

The next message comes in much faster.

From Harry Styles: I’ve been doing well. Took it easy this morning, currently enroute to Texas for the next shows.

You can’t help but feel disappointed that he’s no longer just a city away. You know it’s silly, but it was nice that he was so close by.

To Harry Styles: Enjoy Texas!

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Have you ever been?

To Harry Styles: Once, in college. Went to San Antonio with some friends.

From Harry Styles: That’s a great city, love the river walk there!

And so, you and Harry Styes became friends who text each other about random things. You talk throughout his flight to Texas, and sporadically over the next couple of weeks. It never gets very deep, all surface level conversations, but it’s nice. You feel like you’re getting to know the real him, and he’s getting to know who you are as well.

The texts from Harry are the high points. The low points are, unfortunately, very low. The hot chocolate, and roses, and forest smelling candles are no longer helping you. Bad dreams happen almost every night, you’re constantly cold, and there’s an itch under your skin that just won’t go away. The voice in the back of your brain is telling you it’s touch deprivation, but you refuse to admit that to yourself. You’ve never needed an alpha, and you refuse to depend on one now. So no, you do NOT have touch deprivation.

You’re checking your email, and you see that there are still spots open for a job training opportunity in Chicago. You rarely go to these, but it’s been a while, and you think maybe it would be good to go. There are always new types of data software, and you found the last two training courses you attended to be pretty informative.

Looking at the dates you notice the course is the following Thursday and Friday. In Chicago. You also notice that Harry will be doing shows there at the same time. You don’t admit that’s what seals the deal for you, but it totally is.

After registering and setting up your flight and hotel reservation you send a text to Harry. You casually mention that you’ll be in Chicago the following weekend. You’re surprised when your phone starts to ring, and Harry’s name is on the screen.

You answer the phone and he’s first to speak, saying, “You’re gonna be in Chicago?”

“I am!” you reply, matching his excitement.

“Can you come to my shows?”

“Which days are they again?” You ask this to try and seem like less of a stalker.

“I’ve got one Thursday, Friday and Saturday. You’re welcome to come to as many of those as you want,” he answers.

“I think Thursday is an all-day thing, so I won’t be able to come to that one. The training ends with dinner on Friday evening so I think I could make it just in time for the concert.”

“Ok great, and Saturday?”

“I am free all-day Saturday. My flight back home is Sunday afternoon.”

“Wonderful. I’ll have tickets for you for those two shows. That is, if you want to come of course.”

“Harry, I absolutely want to come.”

“Then the tickets are yours. All the details will come from Jada. I’d be a mess without that girl.”

“You paying her well?” you ask jokingly.

“She’s compensated handsomely, I promise,” he replies with a laugh.

“Happy to hear it.”

“I uhm- it sounds like you won’t be able to come before the show Friday, correct?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’ll probably get there right before you go on.”

“Forgive me if this sounds forward, but would you want to hang out after? It would have to be at the hotel, I can’t really be out in the city after a concert.”

“Totally understand that. And yea, I’d love to hang out after.”

“Great! I’m staying at the Nobu Hotel.”

You quickly look it up and see that your hotel is close by.

“No way!” you reply. “I’m at the Crowne Plaza like, two blocks away.”

“Well, that’s convenient. I’ll make sure there’s a car to take you to Nobu after the show Friday if that works for you?”

“Yea that would be great. I’d love to hang out!” You cringe, hoping that didn’t come off too strong.

“I’d love to hang out as well. Listen I have to go to sound check for tonight’s show. I’ll text you soon. And look out for the email from Jada, it’ll have all the info you need.”

***

Harry POV

“You’re extra happy today,” Elin says as Harry bounces around the venue smiling so big that both dimples are showing.

“I am!” He replies. “Thanks for noticing!”

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sarah asks. “Because it’s definitely not how this sound check is going.” She has a point there. No less than a dozen things have gone wrong since they started, leading them to take a break while the sound techs work out a few problems.

“Just talked to a friend who will be in town next week.”

“Oh I see,” Mitch says. “So Y/N will be here?”

“Yes, and she’ll be coming to the shows Friday and Saturday. I can’t wait to see her!”

“Aw, someone’s got a crush,” Pauli says.

Harry ignores the teasing from his band members and says, “Honestly I’ve been a bit worried about her. I’ve just had this feeling that keeps getting worse.”

“Why do you think it has to do with Y/N?” NyOh asks.

“I mean, I don’t know for sure. But we’ve talked on the phone a couple times, and she always sounds exhausted.”

“I’m sure she’s alright,” Sarah says reassuringly.

“I know, I just can’t help it.”

“I completely get that,” Sarah replies softly, looking towards her mate.

“Fixed it!” One of the sound techs calls out, effectively cutting off the conversation as Harry and the band get back to work.

***

Y/N POV

The next week passes in what feels like slow motion. Every hour drags on. Your apartment building hasn’t switched from air conditioning to heat yet, so you’re constantly wearing layers of warm clothes and burrowing under blankets. The itch under your skin only gets worse, spreading to new areas each day until there’s a maddening tingle throughout your whole body.

Amelia drops you off at the airport Wednesday afternoon. You know she can tell that something is wrong, but you don’t offer an explanation, so she doesn’t pry for details.

You put on your mask before walking into the terminal. It’s a habit leftover from the pandemic, and also a great way to block out the potential strange scents. Alphas and omegas might be rare, but there’s always a chance a few will be around in such a crowded place. You’re extra sensitive to smells at the moment due to the touch deprivation that you’ve finally admitted you have. But it’s mild. Totally manageable. Not a problem.

The plane ride and subsequent train trip and walk to the hotel is exhausting. You stop and grab some food on the way. After checking in you immediately eat your quick meal, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed.

You’re almost asleep when your phone digs with an incoming text. You’ve already texted your family and friends letting them know you’re at the hotel, so you’re annoyed that someone is interrupting your sleep.

That is, until you see who the message is from. Harry’s name pops up with a text asking if you made it safely to Chicago. You practically melt at how sweet it is that he’s checking in on you. You send a quick reply before immediately falling asleep.

The first day of the training session is typical- informative, but boring. Harry’s show is still going when you get back to the hotel, so you watch on a livestream. You’re still exhausted and fall asleep before it’s over.

Waking up the next morning is difficult. Your body feels heavy, like your bones are filled with lead. The chills seem worse than ever and you’re grateful you packed yourself a heavy sweater to wear that day. Not only is it warm, but it covers up the marks from where you’ve been scratching at the skin on your arms due to the incessant itching.

You have trouble concentrating on the training throughout the day. There was one alpha there, and he was somehow in every single session you attended. He didn’t have a bad scent per se, but his presence alone became overwhelming.

By the time the sessions are over, you feel exhausted. You debate skipping dinner altogether but know you at least need some food before you can start your walk to the United Center. The alpha, whose name you’ve learned is Andy, sits next to you at dinner. He seems nice enough, you don’t feel threatened by him, but you still want to finish dinner and get away from him as quickly as possible.

Once dessert is over you grab your bag, ready to escape. Andy stops you before you go, asking for your number. Without thinking you quickly say, “I have a boyfriend,” and hastily leave the restaurant.

You’re not far from the venue, only a few blocks away, and you’re so out of it that you barely notice where your legs are taking you. It only takes fifteen minutes to get there, but you’re on edge the whole time. Glancing at your watch you see that it’s just before 8PM, meaning Harry should still be backstage.

You’re tired, and dizzy, and a little fuzzy, but knowing you’re so close to seeing Harry again has you moving faster than you thought possible. You’ve even built up a slight sweat, and you feel warm for the first time in weeks causing you to roll up the sleeves of your sweater.

As you approach the building you hear your name being called. You turn to see Jada running up to you.

 “I didn’t think you’d be here so early! Glad I was talking to one of the security guards, you walked right past the entrance,” she says.

You smile as she hands you your VIP badge and leads you inside.

“Harry has a few minutes before he needs to finish getting ready. He’ll be glad you made it before he goes on, I know he’s been dying to see you,” Jada says, causing you to blush.

“Well, I can’t wait to see him either,” you reply.

She knocks on a door which opens a second later. The first person you see is Mitch, who gives you a hug as he says, “Hey kid, good to see you again.”

“You too!” you answer, somewhat surprised by the warm greeting.

Sarah’s there too, pulling you in to a hug next. The moment her arms wrap around your shoulders, you’re overcome with a wave of dizziness. Black spots flash in your vision and you blink rapidly to try and clear them.

“You okay, love?” she asks as she lets go and takes a step back.

After a couple deep breaths you answer, “I’m good. Practically ran here from dinner, still catching my breath I guess.”

Harry, who’s been quietly watching you quickly walks to the fridge and grabs a water bottle. You reach out your hand so he can pass it to you, and see his eyes focus on your arm. There’s no way he missed the angry red scratch marks there, but you immediately pull your sleeves back down to hide them anyway.

“Can we have a moment?” Harry asks, causing Mitch, Sarah, and Jada to promptly exit and close the door behind them. He motions to the couch, and you’re reminded of the last time the two of you were in his dressing room together.

Like the last time, you sit next to each other, but he seems to be giving you more space. This confuses you. If he’s so excited to see you, why didn’t he greet you with a hug like everyone else? And why is he so far away now? And why does he seem so serious instead of happy?

“Y/N, I have a question, and it’s kind of personal, but I’d like you to answer honestly,” he starts.

“Okay,” you reply, taken aback by this turn of events.

He’s quiet for a moment, seeming to think of exactly what he wants to ask. Finally, he settles on, “Where did those scratches come from?”

“My arms were itchy,” you reply. Not a lie, though probably not the full truth he’s looking for.

“And the dizziness? Cause I don’t think it was from your walk. You seemed fine until Sarah touched you. Until an alpha touched you.”

You know what he’s getting at. He’s no dummy. Just minutes after seeing you he’s figured out what you’ve been hiding for weeks. Hiding from everyone, including yourself.

He watches you, and you know he’s waiting for an answer. But you can’t think of one to give him. So, he continues, “Y/N, I think you have touch deprivation. Is that fair to say?”

You let out a shuddery breath and nod. “Yea, that’s fair to say.”

“It seems pretty severe.”

You finally decide to open up, saying, “It’s been getting worse the past couple weeks. I don’t think my meds are working anymore, and the soonest doctors appointment I could get still isn’t for a couple weeks.”

“I’m worried you’re close to a drop. Like, any minute now. Or that you’ll go under if I touch you. You realize that you were close with Sarah, right? That if you’d stayed in contact with her, or if she’d released any pheromones you’d be in a full drop right now?”

Part of you wants to snark back, yell at him for going full alpha male and acting like he knows your body better than you. But the problem is, he’s right. It’s been so long since the last time you dropped that you forgot what it’s like. You forgot what the signs are.

But now that he’s pointed out the obvious, you really start to feel it. He sees as you deflate, starting to fold in on yourself. His hand reaches out, wanting to comfort you in some way, but he can’t. He can’t risk sending you into a drop, not when he has a show to do in just twenty minutes.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “I didn’t realize it. I thought I was handling it, that I could make it to my doctor’s visit and get new soothers and I’d be okay. I just don’t know what to do if I don’t have meds that work.”

“I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

You finally meet his eyes and see that he’s completely serious.

After a moment you nod and reply, “Okay.”

“Okay? You’ll let me help?”

“Yes. I don’t know what else to do. And uhm, I trust you. You’re a good person, Harry. A good alpha.”

He smiles at your words before glancing at the clock and saying, “I have to finish getting ready in a minute. I’d still like to hang out after the concert. I think it might be healthy for you to do a drop with me there, if you’re comfortable with that?”

“I mean, I don’t like dropping. It’s only happened to me twice before and I was alone each time, so they weren’t good experiences. But maybe it will be different if you’re there?”

“I can help you through it, if you’ll let me.”

“What would you do to help? Like, how do alphas help omegas through that?”

“It depends on what you consent to but ah, I would hold you, help you get the touch your omega needs. Most alphas will scent the omega. It lets them know that they’re not alone, that someone is there protecting them, keeping them safe while they can’t do so themselves. I’d also release calming pheromones to keep your omega relaxed.”

“Okay. I’m okay with all of that. I’d like that,” you answer. Truthfully you’re a bit nervous. Harry Styles has just offered to hold you, to scent you for goodness sakes. That’s incredibly intimate. But you’ve felt so awful for weeks, and there are still weeks to go before you can get new soothers. And this is kind of a dream come true.

“Do you want to stay here for the concert? You can hang in here or go to the VIP box. Or you can head to the hotel now and take it easy if you’d like,” he says.

“I’ll stay in here if that’s alright,” you reply.

“It’s more than alright,” he answers. “And if at any point you want to get out of here just text Jada. She can arrange a ride back to my hotel and I’ll meet you there after the show. Or if you change your mind she can get you a ride back to your hotel too.”

“Thank you, Harry. For everything.”

“Of course. I know I don’t know you all that well, but I care about you. Anyway, I uhm, need to get dressed so I’m just gonna step into the bathroom for a moment.”

“I can go in the hall for a minute, get out of your way-”

“Nonsense. You’re not in the way. I’ll be right back.”

Harry finishes getting ready, and you make yourself comfortable on the couch. A couple of people come in, touching up his hair and make-up and before you know it he’s heading to the stage.

You watch on the screen in the room for the first few songs. After a while Jada joins you and you ask if you can watch from the VIP section for a bit. It goes well until Harry and the band take a break. You’d been so focused on the music that you were distracted from everything else around you.

But now all you can hear are all the other people, and it’s overwhelming. It becomes difficult to breathe, and you start to see dark spots once again.

You turn to Jada, and she immediately leads you back to the dressing room.

“Do you want to wait for Harry, or do you want to leave now?” she asks.

“I think I should go,” you reply.

“To your hotel, or his?”

“Harry’s, please.”

“Okay, wait here, I’ll get the car and come back for you in a minute.”

You sit back on the couch, seeking out Harry’s scent to calm you, but it’s barely noticeable.

Jada comes back and you follow her to the car. It’s a quiet ride to the hotel, and once there, she goes with you to the suite.

His room is on the top floor. It’s big, basically a full apartment, and you stay in what seems to be the living room. Jada sits on the couch with you, and you say, “I feel like you have more important things to do than babysit me.”

She laughs and says, “It’s not babysitting. I like hanging out with you. And you’re a priority to Harry. Which makes you a priority to me.”

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence for a while until Jada’s phone buzzes. “Shows over,” she says. “Harry’s just getting changed and then he’ll be here soon. He said you can borrow some of his clothes if you want to get comfy.”

You hesitate and she adds, “I have no problem going through his stuff. I can grab you some clothes if you want.” You laugh at that and nod.

A short while later you’ve changed into a pair of Harry’s sweatpants, as well as a t-shirt and hoodie. They smell like him, and you shamelessly inhale the scent you’ve been craving for weeks. The suite door opens, and Harry walks in, looking incredibly cozy in his own pair of sweats.

“Thank you, Jada,” he says. “Get some rest, you’ve earned it.”

“Night guys,” she says as she leaves the room.

You’re left alone with Harry. It feels different, here in his hotel room, surrounded by his belongings, while you’re wearing his clothes.

“You left early,” he says.

“Sorry,” you reply.

“Don’t be. I’m just worried as to why you left.”

“I was just overwhelmed. Needed some quiet.”

“I understand. Y/N, are you ready for this? You still seem on the edge of a drop.”

“I’m ready.”

“And have you changed your mind about anything? Or is it okay if I hold and scent you through this?”

You pause for a moment, scared at how vulnerable you’re about to be. “I haven’t changed my mind. I want you to do that. I trust you.”

He takes a step towards you. “Thank you, for trusting me. We’ll probably be more comfortable in the bed.”

“Lead the way,” you say.

It’s awkward at first, the two of you sitting next to each other in his bed, backs resting against the headboard.

He turns to you and says, “Can I hold you now?”

You nod, and his arms wrap around you, pulling you until you’re tucked under his chin and resting against his chest.

Everything starts to get fuzzy, and you feel yourself losing consciousness. It’s an unsettling feeling, but you know that Harry is there to help you through this.

The last thing you hear before it all goes black is Harry calmly saying, “I’ve got you. Let go. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Harry can’t describe the helplessness he feels as you go limp in his arms. He doesn’t allow himself to stress, or panic, knowing that his emotions will impact you. Instead, he takes some calming breaths and thinks through everything he knows he needs to do in this situation.

He hears you whimper quietly as you start to shiver, and he doesn’t hesitate to soothe you. It takes some maneuvering, but soon you’re both laying down in the bed. He tucks his nose into your neck and begins to scent you, releasing calming pheromones until you relax.

It continues this way for the next couple of hours. Harry holds you, and scents you, his nose rubbing against the gland in your neck. During one moment when you seem particularly distressed he can’t help but place kisses there to soothe you faster.

Finally, you start to stir. It takes longer than Harry had anticipated, so he’s relieved when your eyes meet his after hours of being closed.

“Hey there,” he says with a soft smile.

“Hi,” you answer groggily. “How long?”

“Couple hours. Your inner omega needed the rest. Now you need some too. Go to sleep, I’ve got you.”

It’s the same words he said before you dropped. You wish you could hear that all the time. No one has cared for you before, not like this. It feels good, but you remind yourself not to get used to it. Still, you curl into his embrace, enjoying every moment of contact with Harry that you can get.

The next thing you know, it’s late morning. You’re still cuddling against Harry, and his deep breaths indicate he’s still sleeping.

You feel amazing. You’re nice and warm, your mind is clear, and the constant itch and restlessness are nonexistent. You’re extremely grateful, but at the same time, you’re annoyed that you need to depend on another person just to feel normal. But you don’t dwell on that. Because Harry is starting to stir next to you.

“Hey,” he says when your eyes meet his. “How do you feel? Sleep okay?” God, you could melt at the gravelly sound of his morning voice.

“I’m good. Feel better than I have in a long time. And according to that clock, I slept wonderfully.” The two of you laugh, seeing that it’s nearly noon.  

“I was hoping to treat you to a nice breakfast, but I guess I missed the window on that,” Harry says, continuing to laugh with you. “I do still have plenty of time before I need to be at the arena. Would you like to spend the afternoon with me exploring Chicago?”

“I’d love to,” you reply. His face breaks out in a huge smile before he leans down, once again running his nose along your scent gland. You go limp at the feeling, happily submitting to him.

You don’t think about the fact that this is temporary. That you leave to fly home tomorrow afternoon. That you’ll be without his alpha scent once again.

Instead, you think about the hours you have ahead of you, hours to spend with Harry. Nothing could be more perfect.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you so much for reading! This was one of the scenes I imagined when I first thought of the story and I'm so happy that it's finally shared with you all!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz @fictionalmensblog @buckybarnessimpp

[earthtoharlow]

Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

series masterlist

14: Find Someone Like You

I've been waitin' my whole life, to find someone like you. Baby, I want this, I want this to last forever. Baby, I want this, can we make this last forever?

A few days before Jack’s No Place Like Home Tour was set to begin, Maryse and Jack walked into their doctor’s office for another check-up. This wasn’t just any appointment—it was the one where they’d find out the gender of their twins. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but the excitement in the air kept them buzzing with energy.

Maryse, now 14 weeks along, felt a mix of nerves and joy as she lay back on the exam table. Jack stood beside her, his hand firmly clasped in hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing rhythm

“Ready to find out if we’re having boys, girls, or one of each?” the doctor asked with a warm smile, her hand hovering over the ultrasound machine.

Jack chuckled, squeezing Maryse’s hand. “I’ve been ready for weeks.”

Maryse smiled, though her heart was racing. She had no preference, but the reality of finding out made everything feel even more real. The doctor moved the ultrasound wand over her growing belly, and they both stared at the screen, holding their breath.

The familiar, rhythmic sound of their babies’ heartbeats filled the room, steady and strong. The doctor’s eyes scanned the monitor, and she smiled.

“Okay, here we go,” she said, her tone light and cheerful. “Baby number one… is a boy!”

The words hung in the air for a moment, as if time itself had slowed down. Jack’s eyes widened, and a slow grin spread across his face. “A boy?” he repeated, his voice filled with awe. 

Maryse’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at Jack’s, whose face broke into a wide, proud grin. “A boy,” he murmured, almost in disbelief. “I’m going to have a son.”

Tears welled up in Maryse's eyes, but before she could fully process the emotion, the doctor continued. “And baby number two… is a girl!”

Maryse felt a wave of emotions crash over her. Joy, excitement, love—it was all too much to contain. She laughed, her eyes welling up with tears as she looked at Jack. “A boy and a girl,” she whispered, almost as if saying it aloud would make it more real.

Jack let out a joyful laugh, bending down to kiss her forehead. “Baby, did you hear that? We're having one of each! I can’t believe it.”

Maryse could only nod, her emotions too overwhelming to speak. She squeezed his hand, grounding herself in the moment. “I can’t believe it either… they’re going to be so loved…and spoiled.”

Jack’s eyes were practically sparkling as he kissed her again, this time on the lips. “This is… this is perfect. They’re going to be perfect.” he said, his voice soft but full of love. 

He leaned down, pressing a hand to her bump. “You hear that, guys? Daddy loves you already.”

As they left the doctor’s office, Jack couldn’t stop smiling, his excitement practically radiating off him. In the car, he reached over and placed his hand on her belly again, grinning. “I can’t wait to tell everyone.”

Maryse chuckled, resting her hand on top of his. “We can tell them soon. But let’s just enjoy this moment a little longer, just the two of us.”

He nodded, his eyes still full of joy. “Yeah, let’s keep them to ourselves a little longer.” He then looked at her with a softer gaze, his tone full of sincerity. “I’m so in love with you, and I’m so excited for this. I just want you to know that.”

“I know,” she whispered, leaning into his touch. “I’m in love with you too, and I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”

As they walked out of the doctor’s office, Maryse couldn’t help but glance up at Jack, a question tugging at the back of her mind. He had been so sure they were going to have two girls, Now that they knew it was one of each, she wondered if he felt any disappointment.

She gently tugged on his hand, slowing their pace. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft. “I know you had your mind made up that it was going to be two girls… Are you upset that it’s not?”

Jack stopped and turned to face her, his expression softening as he looked into her eyes. He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Nah, not at all,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “I might’ve joked about having two girls, but finding out we’re having a boy and a girl… It’s perfect.”

He reached up, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Honestly, I couldn’t be happier,” he continued. “We’re going to have one of each, and that just feels… right. It’s like a little bit of you and a little bit of me, and I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

Maryse felt a wave of relief wash over her, and she smiled up at him, her heart full. “You’re sure?” she asked, needing to hear it one more time.

He chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss her gently. “I’m sure,” he murmured against her lips. “We’re going to have the best of both worlds, and I can’t wait to meet them.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. “Me neither,” she whispered, feeling more connected to him than ever. 

***

Jack bounced around in his dressing room, the familiar hum of pre-show excitement buzzing around him. It was the final show of his "No Place Like Home" tour, and the energy in the air was electric. He could hear the distant roar of fans eagerly waiting, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

As he finished adjusting his mic, his eyes caught a movement in his dressing room. There she was— Maryse—gliding around the space with that effortless grace that always captivated him. She was wearing a brown body suit that hugged her curves, paired with one of his oversized jackets, left unzipped to reveal her growing bump. The sight made him pause, a slow smile spreading across his face as he took in the vision before him.

It still amazed him-every day, every time he looked at her-that she was carrying their daughter and son. One of each. Seeing her now, her bump more pronounced with each passing week, filled him with a sense of gratitude that words couldn't fully capture.

As Maryse turned slightly, her hand absently resting on her belly, he felt his heart swell with emotion. He couldn't help but walk over, his footsteps soft on the floor. "You look good in my jacket," he said with a playful grin as he approached her.

“Your jacket?” Maryse questioned, wrinkling her nose up at him. “It was in MY closet.” 

“The closet I had to give you because you took up all the space in mine?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow before he slowly guided her backward until her back met the wall. Maryse looked up at him, her breath catching as his hands rested on her waist, his body close enough to feel the heat between them.

“But that doesn’t matter, you look really good,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. His eyes traveled down to where her growing bump was barely concealed by the jacket she wore. He couldn’t help but let his hands slide down to rest on her hips, his grip firm but tender.

Maryse bit her lip, cheeks warming as she looked up at him. The way Jack was looking at her made her heart race, and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.

Jack leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “If you weren’t already pregnant, tonight would be the night I’d make sure you were.”

The words sent a shiver down her spine, his voice filled with a mix of playfulness and desire that made her pulse quicken. She laughed softly, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she looked up at him. “Is that so?” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

Before Jack could respond there was a knock on the door singling that he had 5 minutes before he was needed on stage. 

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed, his lips ghosting over her jawline, sending a rush of heat through her. “But since you already are, I guess I’ll just have to settle for thinking about it while I’m on stage.”

Maryse rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed how much she loved these moments with him, the way he could make her feel like she was the only person in the world. “You’re impossible,” she whispered, her hands moving up to rest on his chest.

“And you’re perfect,” he replied, kissing her deeply, leaving her breathless before he finally pulled back, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Now, I really gotta go. But trust me, I’ll be thinking about you the whole time.”

Jack grinned as he leaned back, taking in the sight of her one more time before the show. He reached for the zipper of the jacket she was wearing, slowly pulling it up to conceal the little secret they were keeping. “Can’t let anyone else find out just yet,” he murmured with a wink, the gesture protective and tender.

Maryse watched him, her heart swelling at how careful he was, how much he cherished these moments with her. Once the jacket was zipped up, hiding the small but significant bump, he took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Come on,” he said softly, leading her toward the stage. “You’re gonna watch right next to Mom tonight.” 

Maryse followed him, her hand warm in his, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves as they made their way to the side of the stage. The energy was building, the roar of the crowd growing louder with every step. But with him by her side, she felt calm, grounded.

When they reached the spot where his mom was waiting, she gave Maryse a knowing smile, already saving a place for her right at the edge of the stage. Jack squeezed her hand one last time before letting go, his eyes lingering on her for just a moment longer.

“I’ll be right here,” she whispered, her voice filled with love and support.

He nodded, feeling the warmth of her words settle deep within him. “I know. That’s all I need.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek, then turned to his mom, also giving her a quick kiss on the cheek as well.

As Jack stepped onto the stage, Maryse settled into her spot right next to Maggie, the roar of the crowd fading into the background as she focused on the performance. But she couldn’t help but notice the way Maggie kept glancing at her, giving her these knowing smiles that made her a little self-conscious. It was like she knew something—like she knew everything.

When the show was in full swing and everyone’s attention was on the stage, Maggie leaned in close, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the music. “So, are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to guess?”

Maryse felt her heart skip a beat, her hand instinctively moving to her barely noticeable bump, hidden under Jack’s jacket. She looked at Maggie, who was watching her with a raised eyebrow, a soft smile playing on her lips. There was no point in pretending anymore.

“Am I that obvious?” Maryse asked, a nervous laugh escaping her.

Maggie chuckled, shaking her head. “Honey, you couldn’t hide it from me if you tried. That little bump might be small, but trust me, I carried two big-headed babies. I know what that feels and looks like.”

Maryse couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension easing out of her shoulders. “Don’t call him big-headed!” she teased, thinking about how Jack would react if he heard that.

“Too late,” his mom grinned. “And I’m guessing there’s more than one in there, right? You’ve got that glow.”

Maryse sighed, giving in completely. “Yeah, it’s twins. We just found out a couple of days before the tour started.”

Maggie’s eyes lit up with genuine joy. “Twins! Oh, he’s excited! Let me guess, two little girls, right?”

Maryse smiled, shaking her head. “One of each, actually.”

“Oh, I’m sure Jackman is over the moon!” 

Maryse nodded, feeling a wave of emotion wash over her. “I know. He’s been so excited ever since we found out.”

Maggie reached over and squeezed Maryse’s hand gently. “I’m so happy for both of you. They’re going to be so loved.”

Maryse smiled, feeling a deep sense of relief and happiness knowing that his mom was just as excited as they were. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude.

As the concert continued, Maggie leaned closer to Maryse, her expression softening as she spoke. “You know,” she began, her voice quiet but clear, “I’m so happy you two found each other again. This time last year… he wasn’t himself when you broke up. It was really hard seeing him like that.”

Maryse felt a lump form in her throat as she listened, the memories of that time rushing back. She hadn’t realized how deeply their breakup had affected him, but hearing it from his mom made it all the more real.

“I hated seeing him like that,” Maggie continued, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and relief. “He’s so much happier now, and that’s all I ever wanted for him. I’m just so glad you two got back together.”

The words hit Maryse hard, and she felt her eyes start to well up with tears. She quickly tried to brush it off, forcing a smile as she said, “Sorry, I think the hormones are getting to me.”

But as soon as she said it, she knew it wasn’t just the hormones. “That time was really hard for me too,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I wasn’t the same without him, and I’m just… I’m so happy we found each other again.”

Maggie gave her a gentle, understanding smile, squeezing her hand once more. “I can see how much you two love each other. And now, with those two sweet babies on the way, I know everything’s going to be just fine.”

Maryse nodded, her heart full as she looked back at the stage, where the man she loved was giving his all. She couldn’t be happier that they had found their way back to each other, and now, they were building a life together.

***

After the concert as soon as Jack got off stage and into the backstage area, Maryse ran toward him and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Jack caught her effortlessly, laughing as he held her close. “You were amazing tonight,” she whispered breathlessly into his ear, her heart pounding with desire.

He grinned, his hands gripping her thighs as he carried her toward the exit. “You’re the amazing one,” he murmured back, pressing a kiss to her neck as they made their way to the car. He had already told Neelam beforehand that he wasn’t interested in going to the afterparty. 

The ride home was a blur of touches and stolen glances, the anticipation building between them. By the time they got to their house, they could barely keep their hands off each other. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jack pinned her against the wall, his lips crashing against hers with a hunger that had been building all night.

Maryse responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with equal intensity. He pulled back just long enough to look into her eyes, his voice husky with desire. “Tell me you love me,” he demanded, his hands roaming over her body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“I love you,” Maryse breathed out, her voice trembling with the passion she felt for him.

Jack growled softly, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Say it again.”

“I love you,” she repeated, her voice growing stronger, filled with all the emotions she had for him.

“Again,” he urged, his mouth moving to her neck, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that made her gasp.

“I love you,” she said once more, her voice laced with urgency as she pressed herself closer to him.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with desire. “One more time.” he whispered, his breath warm against her lips.

Maryse leaned in, her voice sultry as she whispered against his mouth, “I love you so much it drives me crazy.”

That was all it took. With a growl, Jack captured her lips in a searing kiss, his hands roaming over her body with a newfound intensity. They moved together, stumbling toward the bedroom, their clothes discarded along the way.

By the time they made it to the bed, the air was thick with longing. He laid her down gently, hovering over her as he looked into her eyes. “You’re everything to me,” he said, his voice raw with emotion.

She reached up, cupping his face in her hands as she pulled him down for another kiss. “And you’re everything to me,” she whispered back, her voice filled with all the love she had for him.

***

Later that night, they lay in bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. They were tangled up in each other, sharing soft whispers and gentle touches, lost in their own little world.

Maryse rested her head on Jack’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The words his mom had said earlier that day echoed in her mind—how happy she was that they had found each other again after the breakup. Maryse couldn’t shake the emotions that were bubbling up inside her, and she knew she needed to say something, even if it meant bringing up the past.

She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “I hate to bring up old stuff, but I just… I need to say this.”

Jack shifted slightly, as he looked down at her. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, his voice full of concern 

She swallowed, trying to steady her emotions. “Earlier, your mom said something that’s been on my mind all day. She said she’s so happy we found each other again after the breakup… and I’ve been thinking about that a lot.”

Jack tensed up, his gaze growing more intense as he listened.

“I just… I need you to know how much you mean to me,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “I know it wasn’t easy when we were apart, and I don’t think I’ve ever really told you just how hard that time was for me, too. I missed you every single day. It felt like a part of me was missing, I never stopped loving you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them away, not wanting to cry but unable to stop the flood of emotions. “I don’t want to dwell on the past, but I need you to know that you mean more to me than I can even put into words. And I’m just so grateful that we found our way back to each other.”

Jack’s eyes softened, and he gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. “You don’t have to apologize for bringing it up,” he said quietly. “I think about it too, sometimes. How close we came to losing this… us. But I’m thankful everyday that we didn’t. That we found our way back.”

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips, lingering there for a moment as if to seal the words between them. When he pulled back, he looked into her eyes with a depth of emotion that made her heart swell. “You mean everything to me too, you know that? I don’t ever want to go through anything like that again. I need you just as much as you need me.”

Maryse smiled through her tears, feeling a sense of peace settle over her. “I know,” she whispered, snuggling closer to him. “And I don’t ever want to go through that again either. I’m just so glad we’re here, together, right where we’re supposed to be.”

They lay there in the quiet, wrapped up in each other, letting the weight of their words sink in. They had been through so much, and the fact that they were still here, still together, meant everything. As they held onto each other, they knew that whatever came next, they would face it side by side, just like they always had. 

***

AN: we found out what they're having!!! And Maggie knows 🥹

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[jisungsdaydreamer]

Anti-Romantic | CHAPTER TWO | 18+

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

THE MATCHMAKER MEETS HIS MATCH

“Ruin me, please.”

«PREVIOUS CHAPTER» · «SERIES MASTERLIST»

Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Genre: Non idol au, fluff, smut, romcom, drama, opposites attract Chapter Warnings: explicit sexual content, mentions of emotionally abusive ex, mutual fantasizing, brief mentions of virginity loss, heavy drinking, Hyunjin is delulu, heavy dom/sub dynamics: dom!reader, sub!Han Jisung (yes, there's Jisung smut in a Hyunjin story SUE ME), degradation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, drunk sex (both are consenting parties), semi-public sex (?) Word Count: 15.1k

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

“And now, here’s what we really want to ask you, Dr. Hwang: are you single?” 

The interviewer swivels her head to look at Hyunjin, her Botox-enhanced mouth spreading into a wide, magenta-lipsticked smile. Hyunjin barely registers her question, distracted by her disturbing resemblance to a vulture, with her beady eyes, hooked nose, and razor-sharp nails clutching a microphone like talons grasping prey. Her garish pea-green pantsuit and cat-eye glasses, combined with a frizzy blonde perm, remind him of that creepy reporter from Harry Potter, absolutely not helping his currently depleted Zen levels. 

He can already feel a sweat breaking out on his neck, permeating his satin button-down and threatening to ruin the outfit he had chosen this morning. Usually, picking out what to wear is one of Hyunjin’s favorite parts of the entire day; breathing in the Coco Noir scent of his walk-in closet is like Hyunjin’s own expensive version of aromatherapy. Today, however, it felt like a chore; It took him forever to find the perfect accessories to tie everything together, before he finally settled on his new gold Cartier earrings and the matching Juste un Clou bracelet. Hyunjin knows he looks amazing in his tastefully vintage yet sleek ensemble. He looks every bit the title of a sexy savant, one that he so rightfully carries. He looks ready to slay an interview on California’s most popular talk-show, The L.A. View. But for the first time ever, he doesn’t feel it. 

It could have been the coffee that he had hand-pressed for himself this morning, his usual brew of arabica beans imported from the misty slopes of Guatemala. But then again, the coffee brought a much-needed buzz that Hyunjin needed to drag himself out of bed, no matter how temporary. More likely, it was the margarita that he’d downed in the car that was sent to pick him up and bring him to the studio to tape the interview. Tequila always makes Hyunjin’s stomach turn. Or maybe—

“Dr. Hwang?”

Hyunjin snaps out of his reverie, plastering a charmingly mysterious smile onto his face. One, two, three… work that charm. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Sharon?”

The audience oohs beneath the dimmed stage lighting, and Sharon turns red, a shade visible even under the lurid bronzer that’s caked onto her face. Hyunjin would really love to book Sharon an appointment at HWASA Skincare and Cosmetics, his go-to beauty consultant whenever he’s visiting Seoul. The founder and CEO, his old friend Hye-Jin, would personally host her just so that Hyunjin could be relieved of the horrible bout of trypophobia he’s getting right now, staring into Sharon’s cavernous pores.

“Oh, stop it!” Sharon giggles, clapping her hands together. “There definitely must be a lucky lady in your life. You’re the Love Doctor. And not to mention, but very handsome.”

Sharon winks over exaggeratedly at the camera, and Hyunjin has to hold himself back from cringing away when she palms his shoulder, eyeing him hungrily. He can’t blame her, of course; the sleeves of his shirt squeeze his arms in such a way that his toned biceps are shown off— thank you very much, Better Body Pilates. But he needs his personal space. Out of everything, he hates when people treat him like some sort of an animal at the zoo, petting and prodding at him. He sees himself as more of the Mona Lisa, a masterpiece to be marveled at, not touched. His Zen is important, after all. 

Still, Hyunjin just shoots her a disarming smirk, crossing one Valentino-clad leg over the other. “The only lady in my life is Princess Diana. But I’d say I’m the lucky one.”

Both Sharon and the audience members aww, utterly captivated by Hyunjin when he pulls out a small Polaroid of his puppy from his breast pocket, holding it out so that the cameras can zoom in on it. As expected, his answer seems to have satisfied Sharon’s invasiveness, but beneath his beaming expression hides the building tension in his chest. 

What Hyunjin said is the partial truth; he may not currently have a significant other, but did he have someone in mind, when romance is in question? Yes. Is said person completely off-limits? Also yes. And would his reputation be completely tarnished if that very classified information got out? Yes, yes, and yes.

“Thank you so much for sitting down with us, Dr. Hwang,” Sharon says, thrusting out her hand for Hyunjin to shake it. Ever the professional, he accepts it like a champ. “And that’s all for now, folks! Stay tuned to watch my little chat with Meghan Markle about her ex-royal lifestyle. The teapot is boiling!”

The cameras cut and Hyunjin quickly excuses himself, waving to all of the people wistfully gazing after him. He enters the little hallway behind the filming room and breaks into a run very unlike himself, practically having to swerve around crew members and stage equipment. As soon as he’s locked away inside his dressing room, Hyunjin slides off his patent leather loafers and falls back onto the couch.

It’s been exactly three months since he first set eyes on you, kickstarting his unsavory fantasies and therein, digging himself into an early grave. And maybe it would have been okay, because as a male, sometimes he’s inclined to think with his dick. It’s a biological reaction that he can’t control. But it’s not, though, because the constant image of you printed like a tattoo on his mind has been interfering with his life and sense of normalcy. It’s a feeling that’s only grown in magnitude, especially now that with your weekly sessions, you’ve rapidly blossomed into the strong, confident woman that he always knew you were. So it’s not the fact that he’s horny— well, not the only fact— it’s that he might have feelings for you. Feelings that could get him into trouble, bigtime.

And the list that you wrote for him a while back definitely didn’t help. Hyunjin sits up, reaching for his notepad that he left on the little coffee table in front of the couch. He leafs through the pages, before pulling out the small slip of paper that he saved. Reading over the words for what feels like the umpteenth time, Hyunjin involuntarily smiles to himself. This time, it’s genuine.

The first thing that I don’t absolutely hate about myself is my imagination. I’ve been restricting myself a lot, lately, because I hated the thought of coming up with new ideas just to never bring them to life. It’s probably my post-Jisung and ITEM Tech trauma. But I felt kind of inspired by our first meeting today. I have a lot of great ideas, and I think that one day, I have the potential to beat Jisung’s ass and make a better company than his.

My fucking patience. You know, you might think otherwise, because it may seem like I have the patience of a single mom at a birthday party. But today proved differently. My friend/coworker Minho and his wife invited me over for dinner, which would have been fine, except they’re one of the most disgustingly perfect couples ever. They can’t go two minutes without giving each other a sappy ass look or holding hands or singing a song or something. And then Minho’s wife asked me if I wanted some ice cream, like she and her man weren’t just all over each other a millisecond ago. I just smiled and nodded. You can say I have the patience of the saint, now.

I like how I’m perseverant. For example: this. I could have given up after the first two days and ditched this piece of paper. But I didn’t. I want to be better. I’m very perseverent. Okay, my hand hurts. I’m putting down the pen for today.

My resilience. For the billionth time in my life, my boss made me want to drive out of work and jump into a lake. Long story short, Mark Lee is the worst motherfucker to ever exist (well, after his bestie Park Jisung. My boss and ex-boyfriend are friends. FML). But after one of his daily rants about how I’m not up to mark for some random reason, I walked out of his office and into the office kitchen. I got a Sprite from the fridge, crushed the full can with my bare hands, and then proceeded to calmly clean up the spilled soda before going back to work. I deserve a medal for my healthy anger management technique of smashing things and then bouncing back like a friggin’ spring.

The only home cooked meals I can really stomach are the ones that Minho shares with me at work. You know, he’s really such a menace. When I moved into my current apartment, he got me a cutting board as a gift, knowing damn well I don’t cook. But nowadays, I’ve been slowly getting more comfortable in the kitchen. I still don’t think I trust myself in cooking, but I’m kind of a really good baker, I’m realizing. Today, I made brownies. I’m eating one right now, and I guess I don’t hate that.

I am very patient, Part 2. My dumbass cousin, Yeonjun, called me up to hang out. Knowing him, that means me buying him a crap ton of expensive food. And he’s pretty loaded, too. I think he just loves pissing me off. First, he wanted pizza. That would have been fine, if we hit Domino’s or something, but he made me take him to this ridiculously upscale restaurant downtown. Their damn pizzas had caviar and truffles on them! Like, what the fuck happened to good old pepperoni? And as if that wasn’t enough, he then started complaining that he wanted fucking dessert too. So he ordered this fruit charcuterie board that cost another fortune. On the way home, I had to get him an $8 boba because “the cheese made him thirsty.” His metabolism is amazing. I’m kind of jealous. But anyway, I’m practically Mother Teresa at this point, because dealing with Yeonjun is no easy task. He’s lucky I love him.

Fundamentally, I think I’m a good person. And I think I deserve to be happy. There. Seven things, seven days. I’m done now. See you tomorrow.

Hyunjin sighs, sliding the paper back into his book and setting it inside his little Prada bag. This tiny scrap of paper had him seeing stars, when he first read it in the office, in front of you. There’s just something about you that he couldn’t and still can’t put his finger on. Maybe it’s how delightfully pugnacious you are, or that comically angry tone you approach the world with, no matter what. And he had to bite his tongue too, because there’s no way you came up with just seven things, not when Hyunjin felt like he could give a whole recitation on your very attractive qualities, just after meeting with you once. You’re unintentionally hilarious. Real. Tough. Inquisitive. Also, you’re simply the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

You’re like an impossible puzzle to him; all the pieces are there, and yet, he can’t seem to put you together. Or rather, he can’t seem to figure out how to get his own shit together and finish the damn puzzle. Because he’s oh-so down bad, and he knows it. 

“Dr. Hwang? Are you in there?”

Hyunjin stands up immediately, locking away his daydreams about you and brushing off his trousers. He quickly smooths back his artfully slicked wolf cut and opens the door for Wonyoung to step inside with her trusty tablet. Momentarily, Hyunjin is sidetracked by her outfit, a stylish mini paired with a silky lilac bomber jacket— because where the fuck are those heels from— before he remembers himself.

“What’s up?” Hyunjin nonchalantly flicks a strand of hair out of his eyes, trying not to seem like he wasn’t just having a panic attack on that stupid couch just five seconds ago.

Wonyoung taps on the screen of the tablet for a few seconds, before looking up. “You have an appointment with your personal trainer in twenty minutes. You’re running late. And then at four, you need to get back to SeoulSpark for a meeting with a client. Here’s your change of clothes. I’ve already called a car for you.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Hyunjin accepts the gym bag, before jerking back in dreadful realization. “Wait. Which client do I have to meet with today?”

Wonyoung gives him a strange look. “Miss Y/L/N. Hey, are you alright, Dr. Hwang? You always stay on top of all of your engagements, but you haven’t been yourself lately.”

At the mere mention of your name, Hyunjin literally wishes he could melt into a puddle right then and there. Of course he hasn’t been himself, not when you waltzed into the office and wreaked havoc on his very humble life— for example, yesterday, he forgot to wear his Versace pajamas to sleep, and not his Fendi ones. Hyunjin knows that Saturdays are strictly for Versace; he promised Donatella years ago at the Met Gala. This is all your fault— how can it be poor Hyunjin’s, when he’s just a mere mortal cowering in your goddess-like presence? 

“I- I’m okay, Wonyoung. I, uh, just ate some bad sushi.”

“You ate bad sushi every day for the past three months?” Wonyoung suspiciously raises an eyebrow at Hyunjin. She isn’t buying it, unfortunately. 

“Uh-huh. It’s a terrible addiction that I’m trying to break. My raw seafood intake is off the charts. Guess I’m not perfect after all,” Hyunjin babbles, adding onto his already horrendous lie. 

Wonyoung still doesn’t look convinced, but Hyunjin flounces out of the room before she can say anything else and uncover his deep, dark secret: you. Besides, his ride is waiting outside and his quads really need working.

“See you later, Changbin.” Hyunjin waves to his trainer as he grabs his belongings and exits the gym after a grueling workout. Usually, he prefers more low-impact routines, like aerial yoga or cycling around Marina del Rey. But because he’s been skimping out so much these days, Changbin made him do an endless round of jump squats before beating his ass in boxing. 

Hyunjin presses his fingers to his aching back muscles, sore with both exhaustion and worry. The slim hands of his Rolex alert him to the fact that there is only one more hour before he must face you, and he is nowhere near ready. He’ll just have to skip the sauna today. Quickly, he gets into the car standing for him by the curb, slipping on his Gucci shades and sliding down below the window in the backseat, like a celebrity escaping a paparazzi cloud.

As soon as he gets back to Oasis, the opulent complex that houses his beloved penthouse, Hyunjin practically flies into his bathroom and locks the door. Without even bothering to set his eucalyptus shower steamer, Hyunjin cleans himself up as much as he can, scrubbing off the sweat and grit of the gym from his skin. 

Once he’s finished, he gets dressed and sits down in front of his bedroom mirror that’s designed to look like a Hollywood-style vanity. Taking a deep breath, he inspects his face for any signs of something off. Nope. He looks as dewy and fresh as a pink rose petal, minus the slight red rings under his eyes, which are the courtesy of many, many sleepless nights over you.

Hyunjin, however, is incredibly proud of himself for getting to the office with fifteen minutes to spare, therein being able to fit in a little solo pep talk in the car. His third outfit of the day is a show-stopping black Celine suit, practically designed to make heads turn. It definitely isn’t to impress you with his impeccable style— no, he did it for himself, obviously. That’s the only reason. And it’s a little extravagant, even for Hyunjin, but then again, he’s never been known for his subtlety. 

His post-workout clarity gives him hope that everything will go back to normal, before you. All he needs to do is focus on himself. Everything else will pass, eventually. At least, that’s what Hyunjin keeps telling himself to believe, right before he crashes headfirst into you in the hallway outside of his office.

“Hey, Hyunjin!” Grinning, you hold out a small gift box tied with a sunny bow, which is coincidentally the exact same yellow as the dress you wore when Hyunjin first met you. Today, you’re sporting salmon-colored shorts and a cream blouse with an adorable sailor collar, and Hyunjin immediately has to tamp down the urge to whisk you away to go on a private boating vacation on a yacht in St. Barts. God, you really have amazing style.

Hyunjin swallows roughly and takes the box, trying to look more excited about it than how utterly taken with you he is. “Afternoon, darling. What’s this?”

You reach your hand over to where the box rests in Hyunjin’s hands, toying with the bow. Hyunjin automatically feels himself internally hyperventilate at your proximity that’s too close for comfort. 

“Mango cheesecake. I’ve been trying to perfect the recipe for a while now, and I think it finally turned out really well.” You break into a bright smile that makes Hyunjin’s brain short circuit. “I want to thank you for all of your help, besides me being less-than-cooperative sometimes. Coming here has really changed my perspective on things, and for the better.”

Hyunjin clutches the box to his chest. He had always suspected that you are the sweetest, under your stormy exterior, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to get a taste and confirm the truth for himself. Nevertheless, he’s both touched and now even more delusional, because you spent time on him, making something to give him. “Darling, you shouldn’t have.”

You pout in response, and Hyunjin grasps the box even tighter, nearly crushing the contents in an effort to get a grip on himself. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Hyunjin grins, feeling himself relax a little. That’s one more thing about you— you have this contradicting ability to induce both calmness and anxiety into him, another kind of black magic that you definitely harbor in your bewitching eyes. “Well, thank you. I can’t wait to try it.”

You look away shyly and gesture towards Hyunjin’s office. “Should we head in?”

Smiling to himself, Hyunjin steps ahead to open the door for you as you duck your head and scramble in, folding yourself onto the sofa that you both are now well-acquainted enough to often share. After setting his velvet tote bag onto his desk, Hyunjin sits down beside you, holding out a glass of mango juice to you, a drink that you now frequent whenever you meet. Plus the cheesecake? You really must love mangoes.

As you sip on your juice, Hyunjin decides to take the reasonable course of action available: ask you about your day, not if you’re available next Friday night at six. “How have you been? I’m sorry I couldn’t see you last week.”

You shrug, waving off Hyunjin’s apology like it’s nothing. It isn’t, though; he would rather have spent time with you than having to fly to Shanghai for some brand endorsement deal that his agent made him take. “Don’t worry about it. And I’ve been good. Evidently, in a much more agreeable mood these days. It’s certainly a step-up from the grumpier me, isn’t it?”

“I like you however you are,” Hyunjin blurts out without thinking, before freezing in realization. In a better world, he would have had the sense to at least clamp his hand over his mouth before he could say something stupid, but unfortunately, he’s stuck here. He wills the stammering, bumbling idiot that he turns into when you’re around to disappear, to be replaced by his usual, suave self. It doesn’t quite work, because he feels a furious blush building on his neck.

You’ve also turned a light shade of pink, and Hyunjin prays to God that you can’t see through his bullshit. “Because I’m your client. You accept me however I am.”

Hyunjin has to mentally stab himself with a fork as a reminder that he cannot, under any circumstances, disagree, although he really, really wants to. You could never be just a client to him. You’re too precious to him for that title. Yet, he keeps a straight face as he nods, disgusted with what he’s about to say. “Exactly. You’re my client.”

You down the rest of your drink, setting the glass down on the coffee table. “Anyway, you emailed me that you had something special planned for today. What is it?”

“Right.” Hyunjin clears his throat, getting up from the sofa to make his way over to his desk. He opens one of the drawers and pulls out the thick binder he’s been dreading using with you for a while now. It weighs his hands down like an unpleasant secret as he sits back down next to you. 

“What’s this?” You inquire, leaning in closer to Hyunjin. The movement allows the sugary scent of your vanilla perfume become even more prominent to Hyunjin, which is definitely not helpful right now. Hyunjin stares down at the binder, adopting a robotic tone that won’t betray his thoughts.

“We’ve worked on just you for the past few months, and now it’s time. You’re finally ready to explore dating.” Hyunjin opens the binder, trying to ignore the sour taste of the words on his tongue. “And as I’ve told you before, SeoulSpark has an incredible matchmaking service that caters to everything you desire in a potential partner.”

“Cool! How does it work?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices your shorts ride up slightly, further exposing the soft skin of your upper thigh. Think of the fork, Hyunjin. Think of the damn fork.

“Well, I’ve already compiled a number of candidates in our database whose profiles complement yours. We’re going to be setting up a time when you can speed date them.” 

You quirk your eyebrow in a way that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is to Hyunjin. “Speed dating? That’s…”

“I know, I know. It might seem weird at first, but that’s why we’re doing it the SeoulSpark way, to reduce awkwardness and make it really worth your time. We’ll go over the candidates briefly, and weed out the ones you really don’t want to see.” Hyunjin opens the binder, going to the profiles. “But I won’t tell you their names, so we can maintain at least a small element of surprise.”

Your eyes widen as you take in the first candidate’s picture, and Hyunjin has to fight the burning jealousy in his chest. “Wow. He’s handsome.”

“Swipe left or right?”

“Right.”

“Okay.” Hyunjin turns to the next page. “What about him?”

“Uh, left. He reminds me of my uncle. No thank you.”

Hyunjin stifles his smile as he continues flipping through the profiles, noting down your answers. He tries to enjoy your unfiltered reactions and not think about the fact that one of these lucky bastards could be your future husband. Finally, he gets to the last candidate.

You frown. “He looks kind of like a chipmunk. A quokka, maybe.”

“So is that a left?”

“I’ll say right. He seems like he’d be interesting.” You shrug, your eyes glittering with mischief. “Actually, I’m kind of excited now. Some of these guys are lookers.”

Hyunjin laughs in spite of himself, shutting the binder and standing up. “I’ll email you the details of the event by next week, when we’ll be holding it. ”

You nod, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear— oh, how Hyunjin wishes he could just casually do that for you. “Got it. I’ll make sure to look dazzling.”

“Darling, you always look dazzling.” Hyunjin smirks in self-satisfaction when you flush at his quip. It’s not exactly a reaction that’s foreign to him, but seeing you like this, all cute and bashful, is new. And it’s a look that’s very attractive on you. Hopefully, you attribute the flirting to Hyunjin’s naturally charming personality, not the fact that he’s impossibly gone for you. Not that the truth would make a difference, however. You’ll never be his.

“Thanks, Hyunjin.” You get up from your seat, letting Hyunjin walk you out, like he always does. “I feel like you have a vision going on for this matchmaking event.”

“Oh, I always have a vision.” Hyunjin chuckles, opening the door for you. “We’re considering a tropical theme, or a garden party, maybe. Or something glamorous. Kind of like prom, but without the bad music and horny teenagers, you know?”

You shrug. “Actually, I never went to my high school senior prom. But all of these ideas sound incredible.”

He pauses, his eyes widening. “You never went to prom?”

“There was this guy.” You look uncomfortable, but before Hyunjin can assure you that you don’t have to tell him about it, you decide to continue. “I wanted to go with him, but long story short, he rejected me. And I didn’t really have any friends I could go with either. I could have gone on my own, but I wasn’t brave enough. It’s one of the things that I did when I was younger that I regret now. I guess it just speaks volumes about how I hold myself back a lot.”

Hyunjin frowns. “Who in their right mind would reject you?”

“My first love, apparently. And a bunch of others.” You sigh, fiddling with the little bow on your sleeve. “But whatever. I’m going to find a real man.”

“They’re idiots. And prom isn’t even all that.”

You snort. “Says you. I’ll bet you were the kind of guy who got invited by all of the girls to be their date to prom, even if you weren’t even a senior yet.”

“Exactly. I would know precisely that prom is overrated as fuck.” Hyunjin gives you a smile. “Maybe we’ll just go with the garden party.”

You stay quiet for a moment, as if thinking something over, before looking directly into Hyunjin’s eyes. “Shame. I think I would’ve liked to see you in a tux.”

And with that, you turn around and leave, as Hyunjin just stays rooted on the spot, dumbfounded. Because how can you just so easily shoot an arrow straight into his heart and walk away? You’re a threat to society. You’re a wicked enchantress. You’re the bane of Hyunjin’s existence, and yet, he wants you to come back and string him along like a fucking bow. The dilemma is clear: Hyunjin absolutely cannot just move on from you. This is an extremely deafening cry for help.

“Wonyoung?” Hyunjin croaks, as he steps back inside and collapses onto his chair.

Hyunjin’s loyal secretary sticks her head into the room, her glossy locks tumbling over her shoulders like a Pantene commercial. Hyunjin makes a mental note to ask her later about her hair care routine. “Yes, boss?”

“Call Dr. Kim for me, please. I don’t feel so good.”

“Of course. I guess the bad sushi really got you this time.”

“Strep throat? Negative. Flu swab test? Negative. Every single other test you made me administer for you? Ditto.” 

Hyunjin aggressively rubs his palms over his face. “Is there anything else, Seungmin? Are you sure there is absolutely nothing wrong with me? Should we do anything again?”

Seungmin rolls his eyes, setting his clipboard down on the bench space next to him. “It’s Dr. Kim. And I did a Barium Swallow test for you, Hyunjin. You don’t just do those for any idiot who walks in begging to be examined for no apparent ailment. Took thirty minutes and nothing at all. Chief resident would be on my ass if she knew.”

“You’d think we haven’t been best friends since our Stanford days,” Hyunjin says. “There is something wrong with me.”

Hyunjin stares down at the upper right leg of his pants, picking at a small loose thread. He’s never seen one appear in his clothing ever since he was eighteen and quiet being so fashionably challenged, but instead of disgust, he feels a strange sense of solidarity. Just like the thread, he feels out of place; confused and lost, even though he’s standing right in the middle of half of the world’s dream. But wanting someone who he can never have isn’t a dream, surely, and neither is the phantom pain in his abdomen, the one that Dr. Kim claims doesn't exist.

“‘Our Stanford days’ were literally only three years ago. And I was in med school while you were getting a PhD in the study of crazies. I knew there were a couple screws loose up there,” Seungmin scoffs, tapping his temple in flourish punctuated with impudence. “I should have known better than to befriend your ass.”

“Seung-min, you’re lying,” Hyunjin retorts, emphasizing the syllables of his friend’s name. “I swear, I’m sick.”

Seungmin groans, fed up with Hyunjin’s stubborn mindset. “You’re twenty-eight years old and have your own booming practice. Hell, you wear head-to-toe designer, even underwear— yes, I saw the Gucci briefs in your bag, that one time you made me go shopping with you. Meanwhile, I’m a stressed, overworked, and underpaid surgery resident who has to listen to his rich and famous best friend complain that he’s not feeling well. Oh, poor baby. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m trying! I’m trying, okay?” Hyunjin finally explodes, throwing his hands up in the air. Usually, he maintains that peaceful temperament that puts up with Seungmin’s attitude. Not today, however. “Honestly, Seungmin, you want to know what’s wrong with me? Her. She’s all over me, inside and out! Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of her. Everywhere I go— her. And you know what? It’s not all in my head. It’s not a fucking crazy case. I physically feel myself wanting to throw up every five fucking minutes. I have a horrible headache that won’t go away, no matter how long I rot in my bed. I’m sore all over and I just want to go home!”

Hyunjin’s best friend just glares at him in shock for a good few seconds, watching as he pants from the ferocity of his words. And then he recovers, smoothing his face over into that signature judgemental expression, because he’s Kim Seungmin. “I should’ve known this was about a girl.”

Hyunjin sighs. Thankfully, no one overheard his rant, because this is Seungmin’s lunch break and whenever Hyunjin insists on an emergency meeting, Seungmin brings him over to this empty corridor tucked behind the equipment storage rooms, where no prying eyes wander. 

“It’s not just any girl, Seungmin. It’s the girl. She’s… all I do know is that she’s my client who walked into my life three months ago and proceeded to destroy it. She came in like a tropical storm and now she smiles at me like the fucking sun. She confuses me and makes me forget random shit and she doesn’t even know about any of it. And all I want to be is hers, even though I can’t be.”

Seungmin doesn’t say anything, before he bursts into uncontrollable laughter, the kind that makes his body shake with impact. “You… are… acting… so stupid.”

And this only makes Hyunjin even more frustrated. “Well, that’s the whole damn point! I’m not stupid, but I’m obviously acting it! I don’t know what to do, Seungmin! Help a brother out!”

After he calms himself down, Seungmin sighs loudly and wipes the traces of any tears caused by amusement of Hyunjin’s plight. “I’m not an expert in this, Hyunjin. But to be honest, it seems to me that you’re falling for her, and you’re just in denial.”

Hyunjin feels nothing short of horrified. “But… I can’t be. Are you sure?”

“Aren’t you the friggin’ Love Doctor or some shit? How the fuck am I supposed to be sure?”

But Hyunjin barely hears Seungmin, getting off the bench to pace back and forth in the little hallway. He can’t be falling for you, because— he just can’t! The plethora of problems that would arise from him falling in love with you are fucking endless, the worst being that you could end up negatively impacted. And all because your stupid, idiotic dating coach couldn’t keep his stupid, idiotic feelings in check. He would rather give up his beloved Versace brand deal than ever see you hurt, and that’s really saying something.

Seungmin tries to get to Hyunjin again. ���Or maybe you’re not falling for her. Maybe you’re just horny.”

Hyunjin whirls around, side-eyeing Seungmin with disgust. “The hell you mean?”

“When’s the last time you, you know? Got some?”

“You put it so eloquently.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “And it’s been ten months.”

“See? That’s definitely it. You need to get laid, and you’re taking your sexual frustration out like this. You’re always the one lecturing everyone else on having healthy sex and love lives and shit, but really you’re a hypocrite. Tell me, why are you such a hypocrite, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin crosses his arms, irritated yet able to see Seungmin’s point. He had his share of relationships, enough to augment his experience and research in the whole field. It’s not like they all ended badly, though— quite the opposite, really. The majority of them were amicable splits, or awkward conversations, at the very most. The only notably sour memory is Hyunjin’s ex-girlfriend from ninth grade, the one who broke up with him in a fit of jealousy when another girl confessed her love for Hyunjin. But then again, all high school relationships are basically doomed to crash and burn.

Hyunjin was careful to never get into anything too serious anyway, because his only love would be his job; he broke up with his last girlfriend— which might be a strong word for someone who merely considered him a wine-and-dine booty call— because he just didn’t feel that same spark with her that he felt when running his business. And he didn’t think he had that capacity to feel it anywhere else, but that was all before you.

“I don’t know, Seungmin.” Hyunjin looks down glumly at the concrete flooring, his body completely exhausted of all of the fight in him

The look in Seungmin’s eyes softens as Hyunjin slumps back into his seat. “Don’t you think that you’ve been so busy thinking about helping other people with their loves that you’ve completely neglected yours? When are you going to stop being so goddamn perfect and care for yourself?”

“But I do care for myself! Why else would I have a fourteen-step skincare routine and Gucci boxers?” Hyunjin protests, stalling more than really arguing. He just doesn’t want to admit to what’s really bothering him.

Seungmin rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. He should get back to rounds; lunch will be over soon. “That’s not self-care, that’s called being fucking weird. And I’m talking about your head. You have this illusion up there that in order to help others, you need to be flawless. Get out of it, man. Whether you want someone to have a one-night stand with or have your freaking children, you need to be open and pursue it. Life is messy and unpredictable, even for neurotic perfectionists like you. It’s okay to be horny. It’s okay to be in love. It’s okay to be you.”

Hyunjin ponders over Seungmin’s advice, before looking up. “I hate when you’re right.”

“I know.”

“Fine.”

“Don’t you ‘fine’ me, dumbass. Go put on your Armani shit and get going, for fuck’s sake. This isn’t Mission Impossible. I can’t believe I have to tell you this.” Seungmin shakes his head, dusting off his scrubs. He leans forward to tighten the laces on his special work sneakers; the clock is really ticking down now.

Hyunjin gives Seungmin a withering look. “I wear Versace on my missions.”

“Welcome to SeoulSpark’s third biannual company-wide Matchmaking Event!”

The small crowd of hopeful singles crammed into the gazebo politely claps as the speaker looks down at all of you from his perch on the little elevated platform, like some kind of an all-knowing benefactor. 

“Thank you everyone. You can call me Jin, and I’ll be your emcee and operations director on this fine afternoon.” He beams. “And can I just say, you people look so good today? Obviously not as much as me, but still.’”

A scattered collection of horribly faked laughter ripples throughout the gathering, and you have to resist rolling your eyes. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jin does actually serve as great eye candy, you would’ve already been putting on your sunglasses and trying to fake being awake. 

“Dr. Hwang will be here in a few moments to intro, and then we’ll get on with it!” Jin states, continuing his unnecessary theatrics. “But while we wait, can someone answer this question: what do you call an ice cream that parties too hard?”

Before the inevitable awkward silence can ensue, some bored-looking man who stands a little further away from everyone else pipes up. You recognize him as the very first candidate whose picture Hyunjin had presented to you— the hot one— except now, his short, preppy haircut has grown out into a wavy mullet. “Just say it.”

Jin looks temporarily taken aback by the man’s unfiltered attitude, before correcting his expression back into a winning smile. “It is out of CONE-trol! Get it? Because of the ice cream cone? Isn’t that funny?”

There isn’t a single person in the crowd who looks impressed, least of all mullet-guy. “No. And it still wouldn’t be funny even if I was seven years old and actually liked horrible dad jokes.”

There’s a bite to his tone, and Jin seems to have taken it personally. Jin clears his throat, stuck while clearly trying to think of something to say, when relief comes over his face as he looks directly at you. “There he is! Dr. Hwang: the man of the hour.”

You turn around so fast that you nearly get whiplash, and of course Hyunjin is right there, towering over you like some sort of gorgeous sunflower. Fuck— you knew you smelled that stormy jasmine in the air, but you passed it off as just your imagination. And because there are so many people packed into this tiny pavilion, your bodies are practically pressed together as everyone else cranes their necks to get a load of the Love Doctor. 

“It’s so good to see you, darling. You look stunning,” Hyunjin says to you, in a way that seems so genuine that your baby blue gingham sundress from Target doesn’t feel so childish anymore, like you thought after seeing all of the other ladies’ stylish getups.

“Thanks.” You blush, averting your eyes. The last time you met up with him, your bolder alter-ego possessed you for a second and threw a flirty one-liner at Hyunjin, when you realized yourself and walked the hell away, before you could gauge his reaction. “You look very stunning yourself as well.”

And he truly is, as always, dressed in another quirky yet stylish look: a high-neck jacket and camel cargos, complete with a chain link shoulder leather bag. The thick gold crosses dangling from his ears don’t look gaudy, instead bringing out a youthful glow in Hyunjin’s skin. God, you really love a man who can dress.

“Everything alright, Dr. Hwang?” Jin calls out, breaking you out of your trance.

“Yes, Jin. I’ll be up in a second.” Hyunjin doesn’t take his eyes off of you, just serenely blinking like he has all the time in the world. “I absolutely adored your mango cheesecake, darling. You have to tell me about the recipe later.”

He shoots you one last disarming smile, before heading up to the platform, and you’re left to longingly stare after him like a dessert enthusiast on a sugar-free diet. You watch him take the mic from Jin, who dramatically holds out his hands towards Hyunjin when backing off of the platform. 

“Hello!” Hyunjin chirps, and really, the wind is a paid actor here, breezing in and perfectly tousling his midnight mane. 

This time, the audience’s response is more authentic, everyone responds in their own greetings out loud. You can’t help but feel your heart swell at the sight; your crush really is so charismatic.

“So, we’ve already explained how today’s going to work in the emails that were sent out to all of you a couple days ago. But to debrief: we will be having fifteen six-minute speed dating rounds today, each held at one of the designated tables,” Hyunjin explains, gesturing to the space surrounding the gazebo.

For the matchmaking event, SeoulSpark booked out Cafe Fiorella, a posh little eatery nestled in the heart of Vista Hermosa Natural Park’s dusty garden trails and meadows. Hyunjin and his planners did an outstanding job of organizing everything, and even you can’t help but note how impossibly romantic it is— for a speed-dating gig, at least. There are dainty bistro tables set up in the grassy outdoor dining area and nestled on top of them, multiple tiered platters loaded with hors d'oeuvres and decorative blossoms. You don’t even want to think about how much this would have cost.

“Before each round, you will all get a text providing you with the number of your table, where you will be able to chat with your partner, one of the candidates that corresponded with your profile.” Hyunjin catches your eye, and you feel yourself heat up. Focus. “After every round, take note of who you want to see again, and at the end, we’ll give you a form to fill out and submit. When you have your next appointment with us, we’ll let you know who you’ve matched with. Any questions?”

No one raises any, probably because they’re too self-conscious to ask in front of their potential partners, which leaves Hyunjin to just nod. “My team and I will be present as chaperones, just making sure everything is going smoothly. And I’d also like to thank our Dr. Jeon’s brother, Mr. Kim Seokjin, for volunteering to time and emcee the event!”

“Oh, Hyun. Always so formal. Call me Mr. Worldwide Handsome instead!” Jin calls out from the back. He does an exaggerated little bow and you— along with many other attendees— have to stifle a laugh. What a cheeseball. 

Hyunjin just smiles graciously, eyes crinkling with mischief. “Let’s get the party going!”

The up-tempo, raunchy sound of girl rap blasts out of speakers that you didn’t even know existed, scaring the shit out of you momentarily. You have no doubt at all that the afternoon’s garden party beats were compiled by your eccentric Love Doctor, before you start to subconsciously sway— and mentally twerk— to “Body.”

“Ladies and gents, this is just in with Jin! Make sure to find your seats in the next five minutes, and we’ll start the clock!”

Your phone chimes with your first table assignment of the day, and you make your way over there, dodging the throngs of men and women antsy to discover their matches. You sit down at your table, trying to ignore the nervousness building in your chest. With the presence of Hyunjin, his beautiful self lingering somewhere barely a few feet away from you, you’re not sure you can give today your best. And for the first time— it’s not you. It’s the fact that you have feelings for your unsuspecting charmer, and deep inside, you can’t fight the thought of not being able to get over him. 

But a lively ambiance courtesy of Megan Thee Stallion doesn’t fit the deep, contemplative mood, so you resort to pushing away your qualms and blankly gazing out at the high rise views while waiting for your partner. If this doesn’t work out, at least you can say you had a nice time humming to lovably NSFW music and raiding the appetizers. 

“Beefing with you bitches really getting kinda boring—”

“You know, I kind of vibe with this shit.” Mullet-guy from earlier plops down into the chair across from you. “Don’t tell Mr. Worldwide Handsome that, though. I’ll never give him the satisfaction.”

You giggle at the comically blank expression on mullet-guy’s face. “Don’t worry. I don’t think Jin would’ve added the EDM remix of “Savage” to the playlist.”

Mullet-guy doesn’t smile, but you catch the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Fair enough. I’m Yoongi.”

“Y/N.” You carefully take a mini slice of flaky herbed pastry off of the stand and place it on the china plate in front of you. Now that everyone has settled down, the music has been turned down to enable better conversation. “Maybe I’m being blunt here, but you don’t exactly strike me as the type of guy to go to a speed-dating event.”

“Well, what kind of guy do I strike you as?” Yoongi asks, settling back comfortably into his chair. If it was anyone else talking, you would have thought they were flirting with you. But not with Yoongi— you can’t quite put your finger on it, but he feels incredibly familiar to you. This could be just another regular talk with a good friend.

You make a show of taking in his beat-up leather jacket and the silver stud in his left ear, all add-ons to his roguishly handsome aesthetic. “Wannabe SoundCloud rapper meets Fuji Kaze, except with an even worse fashion sense.”

Most people would have already shrank away from your sarcastic sense of humor, but Yoongi claps back. “I could say the same for you. Don’t tell me you’re actually going for The Stepford Wives with that dress. You even have the Mary-Jane shoes.”

“These are discounted flats from Old Navy, don’t even. And I’ll bet your emo ass was stuck in Hot Topic since grade school.”

Yoongi bursts out laughing. “Okay, you win. But you’re not wrong though— I am a rapper, of sorts.”

You lean forward. “Really?”

“Of sorts— I haven't had much time to really get into it and improve myself, ever since I started my own record label last year, D-2 Music,” Yoongi says, picking at his peach scone. “Managing other artists is my focus these days. Been writing my whole life, though.”

“What do you like to write about?” You take a bite of your pastry, savoring how it nearly melts in your mouth. Maybe this thing isn’t that bad; good food and good conversation. Besides, this Yoongi is totally intriguing to you.

“Dreams, depression, obsession.” Yoongi steadily holds your gaze, and you don’t look away.

“Refreshing.”

“I get that a lot.” Yoongi takes a sip of his mimosa, before making a face and putting it back down. 

“No, but seriously. I hate pretending, most of all. Perfection doesn’t exist, and a lot of people can’t get a grip on that.” You shrug, wiping your mouth with one of the provided lavender napkins. “It is refreshing that you don’t seem to give a crap about others.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi smiles, and you think it’s a good look on him. It doesn’t fade even after what he says next. “We’re not going to be a match, are we?”

In that moment, you can confidently say that you are both the same exact person, and while it feels so good to finally speak with someone who might remotely understand exactly what you are, you know it can never be a sustainable relationship. The two strong-minded pessimists that you both are would only clash or just further bring each other down, in the end. So you return his smile, not a hint of sorrow in it. 

“Probably not.” Both of you clink your champagne classes together and drink on it, before collectively gagging at the taste.

“Time’s up, people! Please bid your partners adieu and get on to your next table!” Jin’s voice breaks out through his microphone, and immediately, the music resumes as the frenzy starts all over again.

You stand up, smoothing out your skirt and looking over at Yoongi, who stays seated, taking his own time finishing his scone. “Catch you later, Hot Topic.”

“Likewise, Mary-Jane.” Yoongi snickers, tilting his head up in a casual goodbye. 

You make your way to your new assignment, and as you approach, you remember him. The next person sitting there is the final candidate that Hyunjin had shown you, the one with the rather squirrely look to him. You have to admit, however, that he isn’t bad-looking, with wavy brown bangs falling into his eyes and a soft smile painting his features. He looks simple, a pretty boy waiting for a girl. You feel like you’re reading a picture book with a happy ending, because there are no puzzles to stay sleepless over. You see the bistro table becoming a kitchen counter, frequented for coffee talk and family dinners— there is no smoke-cracked glass desk that costs more than your entire salary. And you’re not Pygmalion sculpting Galatea, the gender bended Grecian rendition of the Hyunjin who plagues your thoughts; instead, you can see the elementary construction paper dotted with finger-painted sunny skies.

“Hi,” you greet, dragging out your chair and locking eyes with the stranger. Strangely, you don’t feel that telltale thump of your heartbeat in your panting chest— you sense a steady rhythm, and perhaps you could get used to it. Think: the picture book over the puzzle. You like staying in check and control— Hyunjin doesn’t allow you that power, no matter how unknowingly he keeps it for himself. 

“Hi,” he responds. “I, uh, thought you had a nice smile in your picture. It’s even better in real life.”

You stay unfazed; compliments don’t affect you much— when they come from anyone but Hyunjin. Still, it’s a cute try, and you decide to dig in deeper. To you, directness is key— again, when dealing with anyone but Hyunjin. 

You slide your finger down the damp side of your champagne flute, tracing a haphazard shape in the water drops. The man falls quiet again, and you don’t bother saying anything else, just taking him in. You don’t have much experience with conversation loaded with romantic intent, and this holds true even with your infamous ex-boyfriend.

Park Jisung had spied you at a holiday festival on your college campus, and then proceeded to ask you out. It was pretty unceremonious, to say the least, and thinking in hindsight, you can’t remember a time when he actually tried to get to know you. You were so enamored with him that you didn’t bat an eye, not even when he insisted on having sex with you on your very first date. And it was also your very first time, actually— but you didn’t question it. And the sex? It was over in less than five minutes and he left right after he finished, but it just felt nice to be wanted, for once. 

In the following months, you realized that when he wasn’t sleeping with you, Jisung was in his own world. You barely existed to him, while you memorized his Chipotle order and silently bought new soap for him when it ran out. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he just wanted a warm body in his bed to replace the other ones he’d fucked with all day. 

“You should know that I have asthma, just in case you intend on taking my breath away on a regular basis,” the man blurts out, snapping you out of your depressing Jisung-reverie.

You bite back a snort— looks like Mr. Worldwide Handsome has new competition for the corniest person at this place. “Thank you.” 

He coughs, no doubt embarrassed by his poorly executed pick-up line. “Sorry. I can’t help it. Pretty people make me nervous.”

“You’re pretty too.” You shrug nonchalantly as the man blushes. “What’s your name?”

“Han Jisung.”

You nearly throw the champagne in his face. “Come again?”

“Jisung. My name is Jisung.”

You clench your fists under the table, trying not to break something. Of all the people in this world— of all the fucking names in this world— you just had to get set-up with a guy who shares the same name as a monster who did nothing but hurt you. What the fuck, universe? You glance at your phone screen peeking out of your purse— there are still four minutes left in this stupid round. 

“Hey, is everything good?” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” You look up, giving him a venomous smile. Screw the picture book. “What do you like to do in your free time, Han Jisung? Don’t tell me you like to day-drink and play beer pong.”

“I’m not really a drinker. And you can just call me Ji-”

“Tell me, Han Jisung, is your zodiac sign Aquarius? And do you work in tech? Do you work for SM Tech? Do you?” You inquire without a break, gulping down your glass before refilling it with more of that horrendous champagne. The angel on your shoulder implores you not to project your ex-boyfriend’s personality onto the poor sucker sitting in front of you, but the devil whispers a different tune. You decide to follow the latter’s advice; raging hellfire is always more fun.

Han Jisung looks bewildered, but answers your question anyway. “Um, I'm a Virgo. I do work in tech, but with JYP Electronics.”

“Wonderful.” 

“Anyway… I never got your name,” Han Jisung tries, visibly shaken by your suddenly aggressive line of questioning. 

You scowl at him. “That’s because I already made the mistake of trusting someone like you, Han Jisung.”

There’s still a few seconds left in the round timer, but you don’t pay any mind to it. Your social battery has been exhausted, and all of the progress you’ve made in a long time has gone to dust in a mere five-minute parameter. You grab your bag and stalk away from the table, leaving Han Jisung staring after you, openmouthed and utterly perplexed by the unmerited hostility. But screw him— you can’t even live for a day without being reminded by your douchebag ex who traumatized the fuck out of you.

In your fury, you barely notice the rolling cart of lunch items that accidentally rams into your side. Bowls of pesto pasta fly off the cart, the roasted cherry tomatoes arching in the air in perfect semi-circles before splattering onto the pristine grass. The restaurant staff immediately attends to the mess, while the other guests just glance carelessly at the mess before continuing onto the next round. You rub your hip as Hyunjin rushes over to you.

“Darling, are you alright?” Hyunjin drapes his arm around your shoulders, gazing at you with concern. You melt into his touch for a moment, the frustration simmering with the longing inside of you. “Where were you going?”

You back away from him. “This was a bad idea. Maybe I’m not ready for this. I need more time.”

He frowns, stepping closer to you. “But—”

“Han Jisung?” You interrupt, more animosity in your tone than you intend for there to be. “You knew his name when showing me his profile.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen in both remembrance and regret. “Oh my god. I didn’t realize— I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. Even taking into account how you feel right now, you don’t want to take it out on Hyunjin. Never. “It’s not your fault. But I’ll be on my way.”

Ducking your head, you turn and walk away, furiously blinking the tears away. A small part of you wishes Hyunjin would call you back, hug you close to him and ask you to stay. But he doesn’t, because he knows his boundaries. It’s you who doesn’t know their place, because regardless of the smarting pain inside of you, you want Hyunjin to bandaid your emotional damage. 

And as you pick up your pace, you realize that maybe you really are doomed to be Pygmalion, yearning for someone who no one else can even compare to, someone who’ll never be yours. No matter what sorts of grotesque demons haunt you, the most sinister of them all is the off-limits adonis who disturbs your heart even when you’re still reeling from the previous break. Han Jisung’s sunny skies woke you up from your dreams— Galatea is a fucking statue, art that will never come alive. 

“Well, that was a colossal disaster.” Hyunjin covers his face with his palms and shrinks into the buttery leather upholstery of his seat. 

Wonyoung glances over at him as the car starts up. “What do you mean? I think it went great. I saw a sickening amount of flirting going on. Pretty soon, you’ll be officiating a bunch of weddings.”

Hyunjin groans, shaking his head. “But did you see the way Y/N left, Wonyoung? The whole Jisung thing? God, I screwed things up colossally.”

“It’s not your job to remember the names of all of your clients’ ex-boyfriends. It was an honest mistake that we both overlooked.”

“Still.”

“Dr. Hwang, I feel like there’s more to this than you’re letting on.” Wonyoung crosses her arms. “Since when did you get so worked up over a client— over anything?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes like a petulant child. “I’m not getting worked up.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Am not.”

“Sure.” Wonyoung looks back down at her tablet, tapping away at the screen. “I’m already seeing so many matches.”

“Nice.” Hyunjin looks out the window pointedly. “It’s always fucking raining these days.”

“Dr. Hwang.”

Hyunjin ignores Wonyoung, just leaning forward to instruct the cab driver. “Actually, can you drop me off at The North End? Thanks.”

“Seriously. What is going on?” Wonyoung presses once more. “You can’t just go drinking now, not like this.”

“I’ll be fine, Ms. Jang.” Hyunjin doesn’t meet her eyes as he gets out of the car, placing a few bills covering the whole cab fare into her hands. “Get home safe.”

Before she can protest, Hyunjin closes the door and lets the drizzle envelop him, effectively ruining his new logo-motif jacquard set. But he doesn’t give a fuck as he steps into the bar like a shivering stray cat, because the stench of liquor and greasy peanuts is strong enough to incapacitate his inner fashion police. 

“Bourbon, on the rocks,” Hyunjin orders glumly, looking down at his phone screen, a shot of Princess Diana on her birthday last year. She looks absolutely precious in that fluffy pink tutu that he dressed her in, a sight that never fails to make Hyunjin melt. Today, however, not even his adorably stylish puppy can cure him. He downs the whiskey the bartender sets in front of him, wincing at the burn he so rightfully deserved.

When you stormed out of the party just barely two hours ago, it took every fiber of Hyunjin’s being to not run after you. He’d wanted to ditch everyone and just kiss it better for you. He’d take you back to his apartment, run you a bath, cook you a comfort meal, and massage all of your sore spots. And then he’d cuddle with you on the couch, holding you while you fall asleep in his arms. But his stupid common sense held him back, rooting him to the spot like a big, dumb boulder. 

After speaking with Seungmin, he realized how precisely he’s gone for you. And it obviously wouldn’t end well, so he decided that distance— complete professionalism— would be the way to go. Last night, he’d tried a crapload of healthy methods to try and fix himself, from watching porn to reading porn to even listening to porn on some sketchy podcast— anything to distract him from the thought of you. But nothing worked, because he wasn’t horny. No, he had an emotional boner— the worst kind of boners. In the end, he’d realized that the only way to move on from you would be get his ass out there and find someone else,a rebound— which is what he’d been dreading all along.

Therefore, he’d turned around like a fucking moron and went back to the party, listlessly floating around like a trash bag discarded on the highway. And now, he’s at some bar with high end cocktails that are just a pretentious way of saying “fuck me” to strangers.

“Hey there handsome, need company?”

Hyunjin looks to his left, where the sultry voice has originated from: a young woman— a pretty one, too. She’s wearing the kind of tight, black dress and matching coy smile that can only mean she wants one thing. Luckily, Hyunjin’s on the same page as her.

“What’s your name, darling?” Hyunjin asks her, ignoring the guilt inside his chest. That term of endearment was once reserved for you, and only you. He’d have to get over the sting of that too.

She sits down next to him, tossing her hair over her shoulder and exposing the smooth skin of her neck. “Lisa.”

“Lisa,” Hyunjin repeats, signaling to the bartender for another round. “Tell me, what do you do?”

“I’m hoping it’ll be you tonight.” Lisa smirks at him, raising an eyebrow seductively.

Well. That was fast.

Hyunjin chuckles, trying not to think of the nausea rising in his stomach. He accepts the drink from the bartender, clinking his glass against Lisa’s, meeting her darkened eyes over the rim.

“I’m Hyunjin. It’s nice to meet you.”

You haven’t watched trashy Youtube videos in months, thinking you’d left that disgusting habit behind, and yet, here you are, watching said trashy Youtube videos. Today, it’s a shotgun wedding getting upstaged by one of the bridesmaids proclaiming her love for the groom. You feel an old chips packet somewhere inside the bedsheet hollow you’ve burrowed yourself into, the crumbs poking into your back like unwanted intruders. However, you just try to ignore the nasty feeling and slump into the mattress, pulling the bedcovers up so they cover your chin. 

It’s been almost a full week since the matchmaking debacle that you absolutely made a spectacle of yourself at. You’ve spent the entire time drifting off to work, getting yelled at by Mark for no reason at all, and then coming home and lazing around. At this point, your gym membership must be a mere accessory, and the nearby 7-Eleven that you frequent for junk food is practically your second home. Fuck— you’re disgusted with yourself.

Resorting to self-destructive yet containable activities has always been your go-to for whenever you’ve been down— you’ll let yourself be fine with the world falling apart as long as it’s inside the confines of your humble abode. For months, however, you’d truly believed that you were past it. Hyunjin’s presence in your life inserted a certain desire inside of you— not to be better for him, but to be better because of him. Hyunjin opened your eyes to the real beauty of living, of having passion for any trade and a lust for happiness. That kind of positive outlook kept you climbing up that hill, no matter how arduous it was to maintain good spirits for the majority of the time. But as soon as a crisis hit, you bailed on your trek and fell back down the cliff.

You feel truly guilty as well, an emotion that usually got lost in the web of pity and hatred that you spun yourself into whenever you know you’ve done something wrong. Han Jisung didn’t deserve to be subjected to your outburst, you know that— that should have been reserved for the person who actually wronged you. You never actually got the chance to confront Park Jisung, not after he walked out like he didn’t just fucking break you. Deep inside, you know that you take out that inky mixture of unresolved frustration and regret on every single person who dares trigger you, even if it’s unintentional. Han Jisung was one such unfortunate target today.

A small chime alerts you to a new message, and you tear your eyes away from your laptop, reaching for your phone on your nightstand. In the notifications on your home screen, you see that it is not an email from Hyunjin like you’d unrealistically hoped for— instead, it’s a text from Yeonjun, your cousin who’s a constant thorn in your fucking side.

Yeonjun: hmm i’m thirsty :P

You: no yeonjun, i will not take you out for drinks.

Yeonjun: pretty pls w a cherry on top

You: fuck off

Yeonjun: u seem upset :(((

You: i’m having adult problems, yeonjun. leave me alone.

Yeonjun: well then i will help you with ur adult problems

Yeonjun: u know, i’m an adult too OMG

Yeonjun: come on, when have i ever not given u great advice?

Yeonjun: i missed my fucking calling in therapy. i woulda been an excellent shrink.

Yeonjun: i’m an amazing cousin who always is there for u. y/n i lysm, u know that?

Yeonjun: u know what else i love? Vodka. 

Yeonjun: but i love u too <3

You: Yeonjun, stop fucking spamming me or I’m not coming.

Yeonjun: YAYY!

With a defeated sigh, you shove the blankets to the side, the cold air conditioning gripping your body like a vice. But begrudgingly, you have to admit that it feels refreshing to get out of your sweaty hideout and step into the shower, cleaning yourself up as much as you can on the outside— the inside issue can be attended to with the drinks.

A half hour later, you find yourself in a skeevy dive bar on the Westside, doing shots with your cousin, because even though he irritates you to the core, he’s all you have. You really could use that drink, anyway. But no amount of alcohol seems to mask the way your heart hangs heavier than the full moon outside. In fact, the liquid courage just manifests your sadness even more, leaving you a sniveling mess on the bar counter.

“And, he was actually really cute, you know? But I could never date him,” you sniffle, after downing your fifth drink. “It’s just, I just can’t deal with any reminders of Jisung.”

Yeonjun knocks back his vodka. “I take it back. If therapy means dealing with saps like you, I’d rather die.”

You frown at him. “It’s better than being a failing TikTok influencer. When’s the last time any of your thirst traps got views?”

Yeonjun shrugs, unbothered by your jab; he’s as used to you as you are to him. “You could’ve at least hooked up with him, if he was that cute.”

You swirl your straw in the melting ice as you get on your phone, pulling up the follow-up email in which Hyunjin had sent you online scans of the candidate profiles. Yeonjun looks over your shoulder and whistles as you zoom-in on Han Jisung’s picture. “But I’ve only ever slept with Jisung before. I may be a scary bitch, but I’m not bold enough for that.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” Yeonjun cackles. “Well, it’s only a better reason to have a one-night stand. Do you really want to give your trash ex-boyfriend the power of being the only person to have had sex with you? That’s kind of sad.” 

Yeonjun makes a face, shivering in disgust, and you sock him in the elbow in retaliation. “For someone so bitchless, you really have such strong opinions about me and my love life.”

“Who says I’m bitchless?” Yeonjun grins deviously. “Besides, you’re the one who told me all this crap in the first place.”

You glance up at the ceiling, feeling an indescribable sense of loss. “Perhaps I wouldn’t mind a one-night stand, though. I guess getting laid is something I kind of need right now. I need to stop letting Jisung control every aspect of my life.”

“Well, if you’re not averted to the idea, a person of interest just walked in.”

You whip around to look at the door, and of all people, Han Jisung from the matchmaking event walks in. He doesn’t notice you at the counter, just making his way over to one of the booths near the entrance and sitting down in solitude. The waiter takes his order and walks away, leaving him to put on his headphones in wait.

“I think I must be living in a social experiment.” You groan and look over at Yeonjun. “Hell if I’m sleeping with him.”

“Did you or did you not just say that you don’t want to let your ex control your life?”

You stare at Yeonjun. “I can sleep with someone else. He’s probably too scared of me anyway. I kind of verbally-knifed him the other day.”

“Please. Everything about that guy screams ‘degrade me.’ He probably liked that shit. You might as well use him as a punching bag again— this time, more productively.” Yeonjun waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, and you wrinkle your nose in distaste.

“The fuck do you know about productivity?”

“Nada. But I do know a lot about getting a fix when needed.” Your cousin winks at you, producing a packet of condoms out of nowhere and slapping it into your palm. Before you can react, Yeonjun is already slinking off to go and flirt with a pretty girl sitting by herself on the other end of the counter. And alas, you’re left alone again. With a packet of XL condoms— Yeonjun sure is optimistic.

You glance over at said person of interest, who is currently immersed in whatever song that’s got him bopping his head to the beat, eyes closed as if in a dreamy trance. He’s not your type, for sure. But the thing is, you don’t even know what your damn type is at this point— if it wasn’t for Hyunjin’s ability to make you feel inappropriate things so vividly, you’d have thought you had fucking cobwebs down there. Speaking with Yeonjun really was a reminder that you’re still young, after years of both an emotional and physical dry spell. Emotionally, you might not be ready. Physically, however, there’s an opening, and you know it.

When you were dating Park Jisung, sex was always initiated by him. It was always for himself too, because he never cared about making you feel good. But you didn’t see it as a red flag, since you were so in love with him. You just followed him around like an innocent, lovesick puppy that was eager to please. And in the end, even that wasn’t enough.

Your first orgasm— and first experience with a deeper kind of desire— was alone, some time after your relationship ended. It was a quiet night, and you’d just fallen back onto the couch after another long, uneventful day at work. You flipped through the TV channels before settling on a network that was playing The Notebook, and despite its fame and reach, you’d never watched the movie before. Everything was normal until the main characters started kissing each other in the rain, a scene that would remain something you’d download and revisit many, many times when you were locked away in your room.

You’d never seen that level of lust before. You’d never felt it directed towards you or ever even experienced it when you discovered porn in your teenage years. Yet, these two people seemed to want each other on a whole other level, risking everything— their home, their reputation, their love— for something you’d always thought would be over in two minutes. And as your hand undid the button of your jeans and slipped down even lower, you realized just how wrong you were.

In the years that followed, you learned to become so much more comfortable with your sexuality. Hell, you have a drawer dedicated to storing your sex toys and on nights that you’d had too many glasses of wine, you wind up writing filthy erotica just for fun. However, you’d never actually considered having sex outside of a committed relationship, not until now. And in complete honesty, you really are curious about if Han Jisung is as subby as Yeonjun insinuated— if that proves to be true, you wouldn’t mind taking your pent-up Jisung-frustrations out on him. Productivity, and all. 

You slap your payment down on the wooden counter, shaking it slightly, before marching towards Han Jisung’s table. 

“Hey,” you start, but Han Jisung doesn’t notice you. “HEY!”

Han Jisung’s eyes fly open as he jerks in his seat and pulls off his headphones. At the sight of you approaching him so determinedly, he eyes you with both wariness and renewed interest, and you have to keep yourself from sighing exasperatedly at his hesitant desperation. You’re here for a reason, after all.

“Oh, hello. Y/N, right? I asked Hyunjin for your name after you left.” He gives you a nervous smile, brushing the bangs off of his forehead. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I just wanted to say—”

“I’ll get to the point, Han Jisung.” You cut him off, ignoring the surprised expression on his face. It’s like he’s never in his life encountered a woman who knows what the hell she wants. “I want to have sex with you. What do you say?”

For a good minute, he says nothing, just gaping at you, shocked. And then he does a double-take, looking you up and down as if checking to see if you’re real. 

“Is this a ploy to kidnap me and steal my organs, or something? Because when I last saw you, I got the impression that you severely disliked me.”

“No, I’m not going to steal your organs. The truth is complicated,” you scoff. “But you’re hot, and I’m over everything else, at least for tonight. Are you up for it?” 

You stare Han Jisung down, making him shift in his seat. He scratches his nose and blinks at you like a trembling mouse. “I… wait. You think I’m hot?”

What an idiot. Good thing he’s pretty.

“Is that a yes?”

“Fuck yes.”

With no warning at all, you grasp his hand, pulling him out of the booth while he scrambles to grab his belongings and shove them into his pockets. You feel his gaze on the back of your neck as you drag him through the bar, walking with your chin pointed up with purpose. You wind your way between the tables expertly, but this Jisung stumbles, making you glare at him over your shoulder.

“Watch your step,” you snap.

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking down at the floor as you barge into the bathroom in the back of the building, tugging him inside with you. “Wait, are we not going to your place, or—”

“Stop asking so many fucking questions, Han Jisung.” You slam the door behind you both and click the metal latch in place, leaving you both locked in the tiny room. It isn’t so cramped that there isn’t any space for movement, but it’s small enough to force you both into facing each other in a charged silence.

You eye Jisung from head to toe, taking in his baggy t-shirt and ripped jeans. He clears his throat, making you raise an eyebrow at him. “So, um, do you really have to call me by full name? Don’t you think that’s a little formal, considering what’s about to happen?”

You roll your eyes, your mind going back to the other Jisung you know. Never— there must be something to differentiate the two. You take an intimidatingly emphasized step towards him, backing him up against the wall. “No. I don’t think that’s too formal, Han Jisung.”

“But—”

“Shut the fuck up.” You trace your eyes down his body once more, gaze landing on the noticeable bulge in his pants. Bless Yeonjun— how right he was, for once. You look up, giving Jisung a mean smile. “Are you actually getting turned on right now?”

“Uh, wow—” He squeaks, as you reach your hand out and place it on his warm thigh, tracing it up his limb at a painful pace both dedicated to your desire to tease and be cautious.

“I asked you a fucking question.” You retract your hand right before it reaches its destination, glowering at him. “Answer me.”

“Just, um. I…” Jisung stammers, closing his eyes before opening them again, as if preparing himself. The honeyed tone of his skin exposes a light blush and therefore, his answer. “Ruin me, please.”

That’s all the permission you need before you’re placing your hands on Jisung’s surprisingly toned shoulders, roughly turning him around and swapping places with him, so that now you’re the one with their back to the wall. 

“Han Jisung…” You speak slowly, punctuating your words with the kind of loathing that has Jisung panting like a dog waiting for a treat, eyes wide with anticipation tinged with delicious fear. “If you’re a good boy and do as you’re told, I’ll see about giving you a reward.”

“Oh my god.”

“Take off your clothes.” 

Jisung nearly trips over his own two feet trying to wrestle the suddenly irksome swaths of fabric off of his body, tossing the garments onto the gross bathroom floor like he doesn’t give a fuck about getting a staph infection later. When he’s fully stripped, you trace your eyes over him in your own leisure, reveling in the way he shivers when you do. Your gaze washes over his defined abs, dipping even lower until you reach his hardened cock, flushed a pretty pink and glazed with pre-come— the condoms would come in very handy, after all.

Seeing him bared to you and your mercy rouses you up like you never thought it would; you never thought that feeling wanted yet being in control would work you up so much, but it does, and you love it beyond reason. 

“You’re really something else. Getting off on me being so mean to you.” With a sadistic smirk, you cross your arms. “I bet you thought about me even after I ditched your ass at the party, didn’t you?”

“I— I did,” he admits, with a nervous giggle. “You’re so fucking hot, I just couldn’t help it. Seriously. I’m sorry if— mmph.”

You interrupt his rambling by winding your hand into his soft hair and forcing him closer to you, meeting his soft lips in a harsh kiss, one that has him moaning shamelessly into your mouth. You kiss him deeply, like you want to punish him for it, like you want to both hurt him and make him beg for more. Jisung’s lips are small but full, moving against yours in a sloppy yet heated exchange, fighting for more in an unwinnable battle; he tastes like brandy, strawberries, and the promises of a good time, and you’re drunk on it.

“You’re disgusting, Han Jisung,” you spit out, prompting a whimper from Jisung. “Get on your fucking knees.”

He wastes no time dropping to his knees and letting you lead the way, fully submitting to your tantric commands. Quickly, you clutch at his hands and direct them to where they should be, tilting your head back against the wall as Jisung satisfies your wishes. With an eagerness that doesn’t even compare to your own, Jisung loosens the knot on the elastic band of your skirt, not bothering to untie it fully before he’s tugging the skirt up so that it’s bunched around your waist. 

And without you even demanding him to move faster, he’s pushing your panties aside and attaching his greedy mouth to your cunt. You nearly jerk away at the overwhelming sensation of pleasure; your ex-boyfriend never went down on you, and oh, how profoundly you’ve missed out. But you’ve researched enough to know exactly what you want.

Jisung’s eyes flick up to where you’re looking down and showering him with breathy sighs, spurring on his performance. When you shoot him a warning glare, he goes back to completely making-out with your cunt, easily spreading you apart with two of his fingers so he can focus on your throbbing clit. Jisung uses his other hand to squeeze your thigh gently, rubbing circles into the smooth skin as he works.

He delves deeper into your pussy when you run your hands through his silky hair, lapping at your arousal like it’s honey and he’s been starving for days. “You taste so good…”

Immediately, you yank back his hair and hold him in place as you start to grind onto his pretty face. “I don’t remember saying you could fucking talk.”

Jisung groans, taking every insult you hurl at him in such a measured but unbridled way. He makes up for his lack in precision with his enthusiasm, suctioning his mouth around your tender clit and swirling his tongue in patterns that have gotten you seeing the fucking stars. He lets you use him entirely, body going slack as he helps you ride out your high. The obscene sounds of Jisung slurping at your cunt fill the room as you come, gripping his head between your thighs as you feel that beautiful wave of euphoria fall over you. You pat Jisung’s shoulder in silent instruction, and he rises, cupping the sides of your arms and running his hands down them gently, soothing the way you quiver at any touch. 

“Are you okay?” Jisung whispers, making you open your eyes in surprise. Your ex-boyfriend never once checked up on you, not even when you were clearly in discomfort that first time he made you his own. This complete stranger however, one that you have been anything but gracious with, inspects your face with concern. A strange feeling of warmth spreads throughout your body as you nod your head.

“I’m good. You did well.” You grasp the bottom of your top, pulling it over your head so that all you’re standing in now are your skirt and basically ruined panties. You didn’t bother with putting on a bra before you left the house, and now, you’re thankful for the decision that was ultimately a byproduct of your laziness; Jisung gazes at your body with utter reverence, like just the sight of your tits has blessed his entire life.

“Please…”

“Please what, Han Jisung?” You bite your lip, both amused and flattered by how desperate he is for your pussy. “Use your words.”

“Fuck me. Please, fuck me. I’ve been good, haven’t I?” Jisung whines sadly, clearly on the verge of tears. His cock is now rock-hard, flush against his stomach, and it turns you on so much to know that eating you out has reduced him to such a pathetic mess. 

“Yes, you have…” you murmur, before jutting out your hand to hold his chin tightly. “Spit.”

Without a single protest, he obeys, a single string of saliva connecting his lips to your hand, before you’re reaching down and palming his cock. He lets out a gasp as you wrap your fingers around the base, spreading the dampness and pumping a few times for good measure, as if the mixture of his spit and your own arousal coating your pussy isn’t lubrication enough. 

You take the condoms out and help Jisung slide one onto his cock, chuckling when he places his hand over yours to help quicken the process. And then you’re finally guiding him into your entrance, circling one leg around his body and caging him into your fantasies. 

“Fuck—”

Jisung enters you as you both collectively moan out loud, him at how tightly your cunt clenches around him and you at how wonderfully his dick curves into you, hitting your sweet spot inside each time. Jisung cups your face as he kisses you again, but this time, it’s slower and more drawn-out, a vast juxtaposition to how rigorously he thrusts into you. You drag your nails down his back in a way that’s sure to leave marks for days to come, but he just increases his pace on your aching pussy, lost in pleasure. 

You grip Jisung’s ass and squeeze at the flesh, eliciting a throaty groan from him as your sweat combined creates a sticky layer between your bodies. Your breasts are pressed against Jisung’s chest, and he ducks his head to attend to them, licking and sucking at your sensitive nipples. The heightened attention goes straight to your sweet pussy, making you buck your hips as you hold him even tighter. 

“Oh god— I’m fucking— I’m gonna come—” Jisung chokes out, his movements now erratic and even more rushed, if possible.

“Not yet.” You just laugh cruelly, shaking your head. “You’re going to wait. I’m first.”

“I— I don’t think I can—”

“Suck it up like the little bitch you are, and make me come again,” you snarl, digging your nails into the arch of his ass.

He cries out, and for a brief lapse in time, you think he will not be able to outlast you, but then he slides his hand down, rubbing frantic circles onto your clit. The attempt to get you off a second time works, and the orgasm washes over you like a cool breeze in the summertime. You can’t help what escapes you next.

“HYUNJIN!”

“Did you just—”

You clench your jaw and give Jisung a menacing look, warning him of a topic that should not be broached under any circumstances. Luckily, your harsh expression just seems to spur Jisung on even more, and he follows you into ecstasy not long after, squirming in your hold. When he finally finishes, hot spurts of him coat your pussy and trembling thighs.

For a moment, Jisung slumps against you limply, and you let him, enjoying that blanket of heat and protection against your exposed skin, another gift you’ve never been given before. But then you remember that’s all he is to you— a body that has warmed you up for one night. You don’t feel guilty though, because you never did offer more than you could actually give. 

You pat Jisung’s back, prompting him to draw back and give you a fucked-smile. His bangs are plastered against his forehead in a sweaty mess, and his skin is tinged pink from his great efforts to please you. It’s a sight that you’ll be tucking away in your memories for any future lonely nights. 

After putting your blouse back on, you walk over to the sink as Jisung just stays leaning against the wall. Wetting a paper towel with some water, you run it between your thighs and clean up the remnants of Jisung’s come smeared there. And then you pull your skirt down and help Jisung, because no matter how you don’t see him as more than a fling, he is still significant to you. He’s the first person to make you come and show you that physical care that you’ve been craving for so long, and that amounts to something. Besides, you’d never just toss someone aside after using them so intimately, not like your ex did with you.

You get a fresh towel for Jisung, placing it against his forehead to cool his heated skin while assisting him in putting his clothes back on. When you both are completely dressed, you place a chaste kiss on Jisung’s lips and give him a small smile, before turning for the door.

“I’ll be on my way now, Han Jisung.”

Jisung leaps forward quickly, grabbing your head before it can reach the doorknob. “Hey, I know you said this was just a one-night, but can’t we maybe get dinner or something?”

“Jisung.” The plain name is still sour on your tongue, but you swallow it down. “We aren’t going to work. This isn’t going to happen again.”

“Wait. Are you just, like, crazy edging me right now?”

Shaking your head, you let out a tired laugh. “No, I’m not. Look, I think you’re a really nice guy. I’m sorry for how I treated you at the party last week. You definitely didn’t deserve that, and I definitely still need to resolve my own issues. I’m sure there’s some other sexy lady out there just waiting to dom your pretty face off. You deserve better than me.”

You leave Jisung speechless, finally getting out of the bathroom. You have a very important meeting tomorrow, one that you absolutely cannot miss. Besides, he really does deserve better than you, someone who definitely doesn’t make his whole life an enigma. Someone who doesn’t have the same impact on him as Hyunjin does on you. 

And in your post-coital clarity, you also finally accept that there will be no compromising with your feelings for Hyunjin. You’re falling in love with him, so much that even when another man is balls-deep in you, he’s all you can think of. It’s so profound that it hurts, the thought of never being able to fuck him into oblivion like you just did with Han Jisung. You can never have those nights with him in dirty bathrooms, or the ones tangled up in bedsheets for hours at an end. Late night conversations about the banalities of life and playful interviews about where he buys his amazing clothing will never be yours. You’re playing a dangerous game, ignoring your feelings like they’re a hazy insect that will eventually buzz away. Because you know they won’t. They’ll come back to sting you.

As you beeline for the bar exit, you run straight into Yeonjun, who seems to have been waiting for you all along. And by the looks of the Cheshire grin on his face, he knows exactly what you’ve been up to.

“I knew his dick was big.”

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

“So… want to talk about last week?”

“There’s not much to talk about.” You shrug, toying with the hem of your dress. It’s green, a new look from the various shades of pinks that you donned whenever visiting Hyunjin. The change doesn’t feel refreshing— really, it’s restricting and strange, somehow. Like it doesn’t belong on you.

Hyunjin sighs, getting up from his fancy chair to sit down next to you. So understanding, so caring, so gentle. Everything you don’t deserve and that you will never have. “Darling, please. Open up to me.”

You snap, looking at him directly. “I had sex with Han Jisung.”

Closing your eyes, you lift your up palm, effectively silencing whatever you know that Hyunjin was about to say. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself. You have to mend the cracks before you break completely. Again. It’s now or never, no matter how much it will hurt you to do so.

“And I think we should stop seeing each other.”

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AUTHOR'S NOTE Here she is!! We're 2/5 of the way there 💪 Thank you for all of the love for this series! And again, I apologize for the atrocious wait-time. Please leave your thoughts, I don’t really mind if you leave a whole essay ;) -Dreamy

TAGLIST @skzfelixlove @army-stay-noel, @hwangjuhong, @chizumiyoshi @hyunjinswifeee @geneziesm @sherryblossom @yeetfellx @bennetbutton @chillseo @hyuneyeon @seosalad @nhyunn @hyunjinnie2000 @ajxreads @n2tl4na @yeahhspider @8makes1scream @jetblackbelle @143hyunes @raginghellfire @sinforsuccubus @lixiesw1fe @chartrucewhore @freckleboilix @ultimatestayandminoronce @cheesytangerine @leyknowsbin @stay278 @strawberry-dreamland @lvrgrl-xo @moasworld @hyunnielix @httphans @chaotic-world-of-the-j @nyasstars @beautifulmusicaddict-blog @imasimplol @1clickawayfrominsane @xsw-void @queen-klarissa @hyunjinsamdl @heavenhannie @moasworld @kykeu @sxlxna ***The users that I could not tag are written in pink***

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NETWORKS @kflixnet @k-films

©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

[lennadanvers]

I just read all of your ex!husband!eddie and I can’t get enough 😭

what about reader that goes on a date (but she doesn’t tell Eddie) and it’s really bad, as in, the guy is great but she realizes that he’ll never level up to Eddie? Like she compares everything the guy does to Eddie, and she realizes that they don’t have any chemistry? So she gets drunk and she calls Eddie in the middle of the night to come get her and when she gets home she sobers up a bit and is like ‘I hate you Eddie. I hate you for making me love you, I hate you for being an amazing father, and an amazing ex, for being so amazing to me that I can’t think of dating anyone else, but I hate you even more because you broke my heart and you abandoned me when I needed you the most!!’ And she just starts crying and Eddie comforts her? And maybe they find a way to start dating again? 👀

I hope you like this!! Thanks for reading and have a good day/night! Lots of love 💕

- ☀️

Well, hello! I loved reading this <3

I'm forever in love with Eddie comforting the reader, I'm a fan of him being soft- especially bc of his big pretty eyes.

Tbh I don't think this reader in particular would hide the fact that she's going on a date. The way I picture it, she's used to telling him almost everything. They also share some friends, so he'd end up finding out. And it's easier to let him know so he can have the kids while she's out. Also, let's not forget Eddie fucked up (at least a little) and she enjoys a little payback.

On the getting drunk and calling him, that's like 100% accurate. They might be divorced, but they can rely on each other. Especially when it is about the kids, but in many other things too. Before they were married, they were friends, and Eddie used to be the designated driver (not particularly because of his sobriety, but because he had the van).

As per the part of hating him for being amazing... Let's just say it's the opposite. She married him because she thought he was amazing. She loved him because he was Eddie.

But she divorced him for the same reason. Because he was always an idealist, always in another world, always big speeches and concerts. And, well, there was always the real world. And it had worked when it was just the two of them, but then they became parents. And suddenly they were responsible for more human beings than just them. Eddie was great with kids, but not with responsibility. And the doctor appointments, the limits, the no's, the having to be on time, the needing structure... It all fell onto her shoulders.

But love? Love is still there. It has always been. Even if they both have broken hearts. Even if she is certain she made the right choice. She blames herself sometimes, because all the dreaming and the defying the status quo and the freedom are the reasons she fell in love with him. Like she shouldn't have wanted him to do normal life, when he's so special. But at the same time, she knows she can give Eddie's kids what he didn't have. Not just a present father, but also a structure to lean on, stability, healthy limits, attention.

Maybe I got a little carried away. There is a lot more to unpack here, but I'll stop before this gets any longer. In short, the chemistry is and always will be there, and it is unmatched. Maybe they'll be able to work out the rest. Eddie certainly hopes so.

Thanks for the ask! <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Andrew is back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

“I want you to take this,” Dr. Kemp turns back to you, holding a spiral notebook with black and white cover, “and I want you to use it.”

You stare, uncertain as he crosses the room. Use it? How?

“You can write down your feelings, you can make lists for yourself, you can track the days…” he explains, “but I want you to put something in it every day. Can you do that for me?”

You look at the notebook as he holds it out. You slowly take it with both hands, lowering it to your lap as you run your thumbs up and down the cover. It’s brand new. You can smell the freshness of the paper.

“Can I draw in it?” You ask.

“Sure, if that’s what works for you,” he affirms, “that’s for you. You can bring it with you to our next appointment, but you don’t need to show me anything. It’s just there so you can record your moods and anything that might be a trigger for you.

“Oh,” you look up at him shyly, meeting his bold blue eyes for only a second before dropping your head.

“This is a safe place, alright? I want you to think of it like that. Everything within these walls stays between us. Our little secret.”

“Okay,” you hug the notebook to your chest.

“And I want you to set yourself a little goal every day. Nothing big, alright? It could be a shower, it could be reading a chapter of a book, it could be as simple as walking around the house,” he continues, “but you can’t stay in bed all the time. You gotta take care of yourself. You have to give yourself love and those things are the best sort of love.”

You nod and rock slightly, “yes, doctor. Are we… done now?”

“Are we?” He bends and crosses his arms over the back of the empty chair, “that’s up to you.”

“I… I think. I don’t wanna waste any more of your time.”

“Waste? No. See? Don’t talk about yourself like that. You didn’t waste my time, you enriched it,” he smiles, you see only a glimpse of how it brightens his features. “I think you should go home and get some rest. You came all the way here and you did a really good job.”

He pushes himself straight, “I’ll have my receptionist schedule a follow-up.”

“Thank you, doctor,” you stand and pick at the corner of the notebook.

“You let Andy take care of you too, huh? He’s worried,” he extends his arm, directing you to the door, “he’s a good friend of mine.”

“Uh, alright,” you murmur as he walks with you to the door. He rests his hand on the handle and you smell his cologne, rich but overwhelming. 

“It was really nice meeting you,” he turns the handle slowly.

“You too,” you squeak.

“See ya around,” he opens the door, “and remember, take care of you.”

“Thanks,” you keep your chin down as you exit.

Andy sits in the waiting room at the edge of his seat. He grips his knees and stands swiftly as he sees you. He must’ve been waiting a very long time. That felt like it lasted forever. The tension in his forehead slackens as you approach.

“How was it, honey? You okay?” He asks, his tone slightly addled.

“Yes, er, maybe,” you answer, “I don’t know.”

“What’s that?” He taps the top of the notebook.

“Um, a journal.”

“Steve gave that to you?”

You nod.

“That’s very nice of him. Well, how about we stop and buy you some nice pens to write in it?”

“You don’t have to…”

“I have to grab a few things,” he interjects, “I kind of… fell behind. I haven’t been out of the house, you know? I couldn’t leave you, I was so worried.”

“Oh? What about work?” You wonder tremulously.

“I had some time banked, it’s really not a big deal, but I gotta grab some groceries and we can look at some cute pens…”

“Can’t… can’t you do it later?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He rubs his beard and exhales. “Well, I’d have to drop you off and then come all the way back–”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you blurt out as you hear his disappointment, “I’m sorry, no, we can go, I just… I’m tired, is all.”

“It’s okay, honey. We’ll try to be fast, how about that?”

You nod and hide behind your lashes. Your guilt flows over and chokes you tightly. He brought you all the way here and missed work and it’s all your fault. Because you’re broken and useless.

“I’ll… I’ll try to make dinner,” you suggest, “Dr. Kemp says I should set goals.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Andy softens, “we should get going before it’s too busy.”

🕊️

You sit in the car, fluttering through the blank pages as Andy drives. You should write about your appointment. Put down everything that Dr. Kemp said before you forget. That’s a good plan. He’s right, it’s easy to set small goals.

“Hey, uh, I uh, can I talk to you?” Andy turns down the music.

“Er sure,” you shrug.

“Right, um, I wasn’t sure when to– or how to– I don’t wanna upset you, you know that, right? That I wouldn’t hurt you?” He begins, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

You blink and stare at the dashboard, “I know, Andy. You’ve… done a lot for me.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that. It’s not… I don’t consider it a task, but er, the other day, I wanted to say sorry,” he clears his throat, squirming in his seat, “I should’ve knocked.”

Your throat tightens and you sit back stiffly. Your whole body locks up as the memory enshrines you. The damp air, the hot water, him staring at you, at your naked body.

“No,” you utter, “no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

He’s quiet as he turns the wheel, “sorry, sweetie, like I said, I don’t want to upset you. I just want… I’m just sorry for bursting in like that. I never want you to feel unsafe. Especially with me.”

“I… don’t,” you sniff, “it was just… a mistake. Can we forget it?”

“Sure,” he accepts, “yeah, let’s just forget it.”

“Thanks,” you lean into the door, watching the traffic through the window. 

Your body is covered in goosebumps. You feel like he’s seeing it all again. Just talking about it makes you feel exposed. What he must have thought about you. Hideous and gross.

“Here we are,” Andy says as the blinker clicks loudly.

He steers into a large lot and you peer up at the mall marquee. What are you doing here? You thought he was going to the grocery store?

“I got coupons for the place in here,” he explains as if reading your mind, “they just opened it, put it where the Target was.”

“Oh… I… never come here…”

“I think you’ll like it. They have everything– damn, not a lot of spots left. We’ll have to walk a bit.” He rolls into a space, “might be good for you to stretch your legs. We can always sit if you need to.”

You don’t argue. You feel bad enough. You won’t get in his way again.

“Sure.”

You get out and leave the notebook on the seat. Andy waits for you by the bumper and you follow him up the row of cars. You stop and wait to cross to the nearest entrance. The place is vast and makes your heart pound. There’s so many people coming and going through the many doors.

Inside, you feel a greater sense of doom. Shoppers brushing too close, teens speaking loudly in large groups, children screaming and mothers with strollers. Unthinkingly you grab onto Andy’s arm, keeping close to him.

“Hey,” he looks down at you as he leads you through the wide walkway.

“Just… don’t wanna get lost,” you cling to him tighter at the thought.

“That’s alright,” he smiles and looks around, “oh, hey…” He pulls you over to a shop window, “look at that.”

He points to the dress on the mannequin. It’s a nice shade of blue with the silhouette of birds patterned across it. Very pretty but you don’t wear dresses.

“Cute, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He stares, unmoving. You glance around. Where is the grocery store? You just want to leave this place.

“Come on,” he tugs you towards the entrance of the shop, “we can see if they have it in your size.”

“What? No. Andy. That’s okay. I don’t… I don’t need a dress.”

He stops just inside, “maybe, but do you want it?”

You chew your cheek, “I don’t know…”

“Look, you really don’t have that many clothes. I didn’t want to embarrass you but I spoke with Steve and he said… maybe it would be good to get you some new things. Like a refresh. Start new–”

“You said. You said we came to get groceries.”

“We did, honey, but I left this out. I was trying to surprise you. I thought– I thought it was a nice surprise.”

You see his expression fall. Oh no. You feel awful. You’re not trying to complain or be ungrateful, you just hate crowds and all these strangers.

“I… okay, it is nice. Andy,” you let go of him, “really, it’s so nice. No one ever… Amber always got me handmedowns, but I never…” you put your hands behind you and bounce on your toes, “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I know it’s all very new. I wasn’t trying to upset you or scare you,” he says, “maybe we could just look online.”

It’s clear he’s disappointed, if not agitated. You feel rotten. You remind yourself of all that he’s done and every time, you just whine like a baby.

“No, we can look around…” you try to smile.

He gives you a thoughtful look then peeks around the shop, “alright… well, you wanna try the dress on?”

You wince. You typically didn’t try things on at the thrift shop. You just picked things that looked like they would fit. The idea of getting undressed here, even in a private stall, is scary. Don’t be a baby.

“Okay,” you acquiesce, “I could do that.”

“Great,” he says and claps his hands.

He spins on his heel and you trail him as he confidently weaves between the tables and other shoppers. He stops before the dresses hung behind the window and sifts through the hangers. He slips one of the blue ones off the rod and holds it up.

“I think this is your size? I’m not sure.”

“Looks like,” you mutter, “um, I’ll… try it.”

“We can look at a few other things,” he offers.

“Maybe after?”

“Alright,” he searches around and flags down one of the employees, “excuse me, she wants to try this one.”

“Wonderful,” the woman chimes and takes the hanger from him, “just the one?”

“For now,” Andy smiles.

“This way, sweetheart,” the woman says as she beckons you with her long acrylic nails.

You follow her and Andy brings up the rear. She takes you around the counter and through a doorway. A row of stalls line the wall and she unlocks one with a key, hanging the dress inside. She steps back and leaves the door open for you.

“It’s all yours. Let me know if I can get you anything else. My name’s Isa.”

“Thanks,” you murmur mousily and she grins before strutting off.

“I’ll be out here,” Andy says as he sits on the bench.

You enter the changing room and close the door, certain to slide the bar through the loop. You turn and see yourself in the mirror. You flinch. You look down at your feet, refusing to acknowledge your reflection.

You undress then grab the dress. You pull down the zipper and shimmy it on. You strain to pull the zipper back up and fix the skirt so it hangs down properly. The skirt ends above your knees.

“Everything okay?” Andy calls from outside.

“Good,” you squeak and turn to face the door. You grab the side of the skirt, holding it firmly as you slide open the lock. You open the door reluctantly and reveal yourself. You clutch the other seam, “I think it’s a bit short.”

Andy looks at you. His cheek twitches as he sits up and smiles, “really? Looks fine to me…” he stares, making you squirm, “looks really nice on you, dove.”

“I don’t know…”

He nods and bites his lower lip, “it’s whatever you want.”

There it is again. Disappointed. You look down. It’s not that short and it is pretty. You could put a sweater over it and maybe some leggings underneath.

“I’ll get it,” you raise your head, “thanks, Andy.”

“Of course,” he says brightly.

You retreat into the dressing room and change back into your own clothes. You slip the dress back onto the hanger and bring it out with you. He takes it from you and guides you back into the shop. He stops you at a rack of jewelry.

“Look,” he grabs a silver necklace with a bird charm, “it’ll go with the dress.”

“Oh, sure,” you agree. Whatever he wants, you’ll get. You’d hate to overstep and you don’t exactly have a good sense of style. “Very pretty.”

“Let’s just have a look around, you never know… maybe find some nice shoes too?”

You nod and let him lead the way. As you progress through the shop, he picks out more things; some skirts, a sweater, some shirts, more jewelry, even some belts. He has an armful by the time you approach the checkout. You wring your hands. That’s a whole lot of stuff.

“Someone’s birthday?” Isa asks as she greets you at the counter.

“Uh, no, just… shopping,” Andy answers, “she needed a few things.”

“A few?” Isa scoffs, “I wish I had a husband who would spoil me with just a few things.”

“Husband?” You blanch.

Andy chuckles, “she deserves it.”

You notice how he doesn’t correct her. Maybe he feels too awkward. Like you.

“Sir, would you like to buy one of our membership cards? It’ll get you twenty percent off today’s purchase.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he pulls out his wallet, “how much?”

“It’s twenty dollars annually, gets you ten percent off every purchase.”

“Not bad, sure, why not? We might be back.”

“Andy,” you say softly.

He ignores you as he gets his card free. You watch the total mount as Isa scans each item. Somehow, this doesn’t feel like a favour. It’s just another number to add to the tally of what you owe him.

[gurugirl]

The Queen's Secret Ch. 16*

Previous Chapter Summary (as a refresher): Getting Harry onto the property without being noticed was risky, and not everything goes exactly to plan but the reunited pair make the most of their time together.

Summary: Harry & Y/n are in bliss together at last but only a week into their reunion the King makes a surprise visit.

A/n: Thank you for being patient with me! I do apologize for how long this one took me to write but I hope you enjoy this part. 6.5k words

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, mentions of cheating

The Queen's Secret Masterlist

Rory told the King’s Advisor that the Queen was feeling slightly under the weather. She didn’t want him to call the doctor or anything, but just enough of an excuse to explain why Y/n wasn’t coming down to eat with everyone and why she wasn’t going into the garden to paint or read or lie in the grass like he’d gotten used to her doing.

Rory brought the food up to her and Harry rather than having anyone else on staff do it. It would only work for so long, the cover. But it was good enough for the first few days.

Harry’s appetite had completely returned. Not just for food, but for sex. And the Queen was not going to complain. They were free to love, touch, and talk to their heart's content. Their sweet little bubble was bliss and happiness. The Queen didn’t need to leave the confounds of her room when she had her Prince with her. She didn’t want to.

And Harry was out of his mind with delight. They both felt like it was a beautiful dream. This was how life was meant to be. Sweet. Exciting. Fulfilling.

But after three days the Queen knew she needed to start showing her face again. She needed to go back to doing normal things or else the advisor would start to ask questions. And the following week she would have another appointment with a doctor that Edgar selected, followed up with a massage from a therapist on the royal staff. Harry would need to hide elsewhere. So they had some things to talk about. They needed to make realistic plans. They couldn’t just hide in their sweet bubble for all eternity, as wonderful as that sounded.

“This afternoon I’ll be joining the house for dinner. I think it’s best I start getting back to my normal routine,” Y/n spoke as she kissed Harry’s back. He was lying on his stomach nude while the Queen did her morning stretches on the bed next to him. She kneed up to him and hugged his body to her as she let her lips cover the expanse of his back.

Harry put a hand behind himself to grab at her hip and he groaned in protest, “Want you here with me, though. I can’t bear to be away from you my Queen…” Harry teased as he twisted himself around to look at Y/n.

She smiled at him and pushed her fingers into his hair as he rolled to his back so he could see her better.

“Aww… you poor thing. It’ll only be for an hour today. Then tomorrow I need to also go into the garden for a while to do some reading. If I stay cooped up in here with you everyone will begin to wonder what’s going on with me,” she reached to push at his pouting lip and laughed.

Harry stuck his lip out in exaggerated sadness, “Baby… I need you all the time. What will I do without you for an hour?” Harry pulled her down to his chest and sighed.

Harry was mostly joking. He knew this needed to happen. The Queen was right. But he really would have preferred to never leave her presence.

“Well you can read, or take a nap… or sit in the sauna in the bathroom,” Y/n said as she caressed Harry’s cheek with the back of her hand.

Harry turned his face and kissed her palm, “So today already? You can’t wait one more day?”

The Queen pushed herself up closer to Harry so she could kiss his cheek as she shook her head, “Today’s the day, my love.”

And it was the day. Things needed to remain as normal as possible. The Queen wanted to keep Harry around for as long as she could. She knew it couldn’t last forever. This was temporary. The Queen would only be pregnant for so much longer. But for now, this would last as long as she could make it. She would keep him safe and then figure out a way to be with him for good. She couldn’t imagine it any longer to be away from him.

“Harry?” She asked, keeping herself draped over him.

Harry raised his brows, “Mhmm?”

“What do you want after I have her? Do you have a plan? For us?” They had lightly discussed the idea of running off together. But not the details, nor the fallout that would ensue. Harry might not ever see his other children again. Or at least until they were old enough to seek him out themselves later on. Would he be willing to risk that?

Harry sighed and kept his palm on Y/n’s low back, “I don’t have a plan. But I want to be with you. My current arrangement would kill me. I’m only allowed to see the kids once a month. With Gertrude present. For only a few hours. That’s all I get. She said she might allow more one day but…” Harry closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he considered his words, “I don’t know, my love. I can’t bear to never see them again. But I couldn’t bear to never see you… or her,” he said as he moved his hand toward the side of the Queen’s belly.

 Y/n kept her fingers in his shaggy hair and ran her thumb over his forehead, “Would you want to make a plan? With me?”

Harry opened his eyes and looked at the Queen. He felt so lucky that she wanted him. That she’d finally decided she needed him as much as he needed her. But there was the matter of his other children. It wasn’t an easy choice.

Just as Harry was about to speak Y/n gasped with a big grin and sat up, taking Harry’s palm and placing it at the bottom of her bump, “Feel! She’s moving about!”

Their little growing bean was becoming bigger and stronger. Her foot was kicking and Harry could feel the small movements.

Harry smiled and laughed, “Wow! A dancer!”

When Y/n returned to her room after dinner she was determined to talk to him about coming up with a plan. Figuring out what they could do to stay together. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she’d give it all up for him. Harry was undoubtedly the love of her life. And she was carrying his child and knew she could give him more children.

Sitting down together near the window she began to speak, not knowing where the conversation would go but just feeling that it all needed to be said.

“I want to be with you. Me, you, the baby. More babies even down the road. But I don’t want this life anymore. I want to walk away from the kingdom and everything. I know you're hesitant about not seeing your children with Gertr-“

Harry dragged her into his arms and kissed her mouth. He knew it would be hard and he hadn’t thought of how to make it work but it was all he wanted. He wanted to be with her despite any consequences. He’d find a way to see his kids if he had to but having Y/n as his without the secrecy and sneaking was a dream come true.

She clutched his shirt as he brushed his tongue over her lips and her tongue and he put a hand on her belly, the other going to the back of her neck.

“I want you,” he spoke in panted words between kisses, “with my whole being,” he pulled her into his lap, making her straddle his thighs, “We’ll find a way, my love.”

Y/n knew they could. Her family would be disappointed. She’d been training for the possibility her whole life and now that she was Queen her family was royalty by proxy. They were already well-to-do and had many contacts in high places but having a daughter married to the King had them set for life. Had generations set for life. But she’d give it all away for Harry. And her family would still love her in the end. It wouldn’t be easy but she only wanted him.

When Harry slowed his kisses and his dick was hard under her thigh she moved back and looked at him, “I’m serious. I meant for this to be a real conversation. To get the ball rolling. We only have so much time, Harry.”

He rubbed his palms over her back and bumped his nose to hers, “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just hearing you say that you want all that with me, more babies?” He moved his face back to look at her and take her face in, her lips, the curve of her nose and her eyebrows, the wispy hairs at her forehead, her pretty eyes that he’d been dreaming of for a long time now looking back at him, “I want you. We’ll make this work no matter what. And I know we need to think about how we are gonna make that happen but I don’t know if there’s any great solution other than to just leave together after you have the baby. Me and you. We’ll just walk out hand in hand and drive off to another place until everyone gets used to the idea that it’s us. No matter what we do, if we have a flawless plan or not, this won’t be easy and there will be a lot of neigh-sayers.”

She knew he was right. No matter how perfectly they planned it all out, it would never be a perfect scenario.

“Just walk out hand-in-hand? You’re crazy you know that? Can you imagine? Me carrying the baby and you with your arms full of baby stuff as we just traipse out of here together and get into a car and drive off into the sunset,” she giggled. That certainly sounded nice. It probably wouldn’t go down like that but what could anyone do? It’s not like they could stop either of them. These weren’t the old days when the Queen could be hung for her insolence. The fallout would be political and personal but they wouldn’t be able to be stopped.

“I’m crazy for you. Let me make love to you. I haven’t had enough of you yet, my Queen. My angel,” he spoke before pressing his mouth over hers once again.

So, there was no real plan in place but the Queen knew it could work, knew it could be done however they wanted to make it happen. No one could stop them and that was the prevailing thought. Even the most perfect plan would still never be a perfect plan.

It had been three blissful days since Harry’s arrival and she could barely keep her hands to herself so she let him make love to her. This time they didn’t even move from the couch by the window. Harry pulled his pants down and the Queen lifted her dress and they moved together slowly with lips attached and gasps of I love you and I need you were whispered into the air.

There was nothing like being fucked by her Prince. They allowed themselves hours to fuck. Long strokes and pauses to stare into each other’s eyes. Harry would come inside of her and then he’d fuck her again when he was hard. He’d finger her and eat her out and she’d lay with her head on his lap and lick his cock, savoring the taste of him, of her on him. It was true bliss. The one she dreamed of now in her arms, in her bed. The father of her baby making love to her slowly and sensually until they fell asleep together, wiped out from sex, from emotion, from happiness.

A bath was in order the following morning. They were messy and smelly after their long session the night before. But it was a quick one as they woke up late because they’d gone to bed sometime in the early morning hours and Y/n’s body needed a little more sleep these days. But despite the bath being quick it was sweet with Harry helping her clean herself and his lips kissing her belly and her arms. Her hormones made her exceptionally horny but the happiness she felt with Harry near her was doing things to her libido as well. Things she’d never expected. She couldn’t get him off her mind. At breakfast and then after in the garden she had a hard time reading her book. She could only think of her strong man back in her room with his green eyes that gazed into her soul and his scruffy unshaven face, his hair a little shaggy, growing longer as he hadn’t had a cut. And even with the bit of hair on his face his dimples still showed when he smiled at her.

“Y/n, you’re feeling better today! It’s nice to see you out in the garden again,” Rory winked and sat down next to her.

Closing her book she sighed and leaned back onto her palms in the grass as she looked up at the blue sky, “I’m feeling fabulous today. But I am getting a little tired. Perhaps I’ll go back in soon,” she looked back at her friend with a knowing grin.

It was nice to have Rory on her side. Her best friend and someone she trusted completely.

“Tomorrow is my day off. Do you need me to stay around here? I know it’ll be a little tricky without my help,” Rory whispered. It was true. Without Rory around getting food to Harry would be a little more difficult but her friend deserved her days off like normal. Especially with how much she had helped them.

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. You’ve been more than generous with all of your help.”

It had been a whole week. The Queen's doctor's appointment and massage were scheduled so Harry knew he’d be hidden in the linen closet for quite some time that day.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” he kissed her forehead as Rory stood by the door ready to lead Harry to his hiding spot until the coast was clear. The appointments would take place in her room as all of them had before. Plus It was more private.

“I know. I just feel bad that we need to do this,” she spoke as she rubbed her knuckles along his scruffy jaw.

Harry put his hands over hers and kissed her lips, “Worth it.”

Her morning was busy. A quick breakfast and then ushering Harry off into hiding before meeting with her doctor for a check-up followed up by a much-needed massage.

But before her massage was even finished the Queen heard a familiar voice that had her sitting up and with her hand held out to the masseuse, “Hold on…”

She listened closely and heard his voice in the hallway coming closer. Grasping the sheet close to her body she held her breath as the door opened and there he was. Edgar. The King of Manon. Her husband. Whom she hadn’t seen in nearly two months.

“My wife! There she is!” Edgar spoke loudly as he drew closer with Rory and another woman following behind closely.

Y/N dropped her mouth open, not quite sure how to respond. He hadn’t given her any heads up that he was coming. He hadn’t told anyone.

“What are you doing here? I hadn’t expected you,” Y/N spoke as Edgar gave her a friendly side hug before patting her sheet-covered bump.

“I wanted to come and see how things were going. Figured a night away from Manon would be nice. It’s so beautiful out here. And… oh! This is Lulu, my new assistant,” the King waved toward the woman who was standing to his left.

Y/n smiled at the girl who was near her own age, but far less pregnant, or rather, not pregnant at all, “Nice to meet you, Lulu.”

Looking toward Rory, Y/n realized there was something Rory wanted to say. She’d ask her later.

“Oh! Nice to meet you, Queen!”

A nice girl.

Y/n looked at Edgar once again and nodded toward the door, “Do you mind? I’d like to put on some clothes and then we can take tea in the sunroom.”

The Queen got herself dressed as Rory helped her with her buttons, “Lulu seems like a little more than an assistant. I mean, I can’t be sure but I’ve got a pretty good read on people, Y/n.”

Y/n remained silent as she listened. It wouldn’t surprise her if Edgar did decide to take a mistress. It was unusual in the modern kingdom, and if exposed would be a scandal, but it’s not like she could complain. And she wouldn’t anyway. Besides, she was sure the King knew about how she felt about Harry – he was looking the other way so as to keep up appearances with the kingdom and he knew she would as well.

Rory was sent to let Harry know of the situation at the Queen’s request after walking her to the sunroom.

Tea was served shortly after the Queen sat down on the chaise across from the King and Lulu.

“So you’re our new assistant?” Y/n broke the silence in the room as she eyed the pretty girl.

“Yes! Well, Edgar’s assistant,” Lulu turned her head to look at Edgar, “I didn’t know… Am I also to be her assistant as well?”

Edgar chuckled and patted her knee, “Yes, dear. Once she has the baby you’ll be answering to us both. But for now, you’re of more use to me. She’s got Rory at her aid now.”

Y/n nodded at his response. She wasn’t dumb. The girl was looking at Edgar like he was her whole world. The Queen had never even looked at him that way.

It was a relief that Y/n wasn’t asked too many questions. Edgar was clearly distracted by his new plaything. And even though there was not an ounce of jealousy in her bones, the obvious insult was not overlooked. It was likely this was a show on purpose. To see how far he could push it. Edgar was upset about the whole thing, Y/n realized. And he liked having the upper hand. This was his way of subtly showing to the Queen that he was still in charge. That he could do what he wanted if her heart was no longer his. Her heart had never really belonged to the King to begin with.

“Will you be sleeping with me this evening? I can have Rory bring in extra pillows…”

“No. That’s not necessary. I’ll sleep down here in the large suite that overlooks the garden. You need all the space you can get right now,” Edgar gestured to her belly and then looked over at Lulu who appeared to be needing some kind of reassurance.

Y/n pulled her lips into her mouth. So he brought his mistress to the estate and had planned on them sleeping together in the same house as his wife. She was insulted. But she would keep quiet and Edgar knew she would. Her immediate concern was Harry. Having the King here at the same time as Harry was very risky, though luckily Edgar was rather preoccupied with Lulu.

“Splendid. I’ll have a room set for Lulu then. The nice one that looks out the front toward the orchard. No one is staying in that wing.” Y/n was being cheeky. She wanted to see the look on Lulu’s face. She was aware of what was going on but would play dumb if that was what Edgar wanted.

The Queen wasn’t actually concerned about where Lulu stayed. She could go and stay with the King and they could fuck and make a racket for all she cared. She only wanted to get a rise from the girl. See what her response would be to staying in the lonely wing away from Edgar.

“Oh! But, I’m Edgar’s assistant. I should be staying close by. You know… just in case-” she stopped speaking when the king put his hand at her knee to indicate as much.

“What on earth would he need you for while he’s sleeping? I’m sure you don’t need to be on call all night, my dear. Besides, there isn’t another room nearby Edgar’s that’s unoccupied.”

Lulu looked at the King as she worried her lip between her teeth. Y/n was ready to burst out in laughter.

Edgar gave Y/n a sharp look and then spoke, “Lulu will love any room she’s set up in.”

The Queen nodded and smiled and looked down over her belly as she changed the subject, “The doctor has said I’m very healthy. The baby is as well. Everything is going very smoothly. I’m thankful for my health.”

“Good to hear. You look very well. This place seems to have been very good for you. You’re simply glowing.”

Y/n smiled, knowing she was extra relaxed and content lately. But that was mostly due to having Harry with her and the many many orgasms she’d been given since his arrival. Perhaps that was the glow he was talking about.

Rory entered the room and leaned over Y/n speaking quietly, “Harry is back in your room. We’ll have dinner ready in an hour. I’ll bring a tray up to him but if you want to go now to get yourself ready…”

The Queen stood up and looked at the King and Lulu, “Well, I must go and get ready for dinner. I was in the middle of my massage when you two arrived and I haven’t had a chance to freshen up. I’ll see you in an hour. If you’ll excuse me.”

Harry was seated by the window when the Queen entered her room.

“I heard he’s here.”

Y/n nodded and crossed the room to her handsome man, “Yes. With a young woman in tow.”

Harry stood up and pulled her into his arms, “A young woman?”

“Yes. Her name is Lulu. He’ll be preoccupied with her so don’t worry too much. But right now I need a bath.”

Harry drew a bath for her, putting bubbles in the tub, and helping her out of her dress. He took his own clothes off and climbed into the tub behind her.

She leaned into his chest, lying her head back onto his shoulder as they spoke quietly. Hespoke into her ear, his deep slow drawl soothing and sexy all at once.

Harry’s hands roamed over her shoulders and down her arms and around to her belly, “Love that you’re pregnant with my baby and that you’re taking such good care of her. I love you, Y/n.”

She sighed and smiled, placing her hands over Harry’s, “I love it too. Love that this baby is ours.”

Harry kissed her lobe and brushed his hands up over her tits, thumbing at her nipple, and then lowered his mouth to her neck.

She could feel his thick cock behind her, already full, and engorged. Ready for some action. Which seemed to be pretty constant since he’d arrived the week before.

“Harry… we can’t. I need to be downstairs in one piece in twenty minutes.”

He groaned and continued kissing her neck softly. He knew she was right. When they had sex they liked to take their time nowadays. Never wanting to repeat their quick sessions again if they could help it.

Chuckling, Y/n turned her face to capture his lips and lowered her hand behind her back, and began to stroke him slowly, “Wanna come before I go downstairs? I bet I can make you come and I’ll still have time to get dressed and make it to dinner before anyone notices a thing.

“Heeeyy…” Harry protested, “What’s that supposed to mean?” He put his hands at her ribs and poked his fingers in warning.

“It just means you always come so easily for me. Such a good boy, aren’t you?” She was teasing him but she was also pretty sure she could make him come quickly. Turning on her knees and facing him, she sat back onto her haunches and kept stroking him. She brought one of his hands up to her tits to encourage him to play with them.

Harry spread his thighs and leaned back as he used both hands to squeeze and massage at her breasts, “I should be insulted but you feel so good and you’re so fucking hot, Y/n… of course you make me come so easy. M’like a teenager around you,” Harry spoke as he gritted his teeth while Y/n pumped him, the water sloshing around the movement.

Y/n reached behind her and unhooked the tub stop so the water slowly began to drain. She intended on having him come in her mouth. Wanted the pleasure of going down to dinner in front of the King and his mistress, not only carrying Harry’s baby but having his come in her tummy.

Harry gripped the edge of the tub and leaned his head back when he felt himself get close, “Gonna fuck you so good when you get back from dinner,” Harry was panting his words as precome began to pool over his tip.

“I can’t wait,” Y/n grinned at him and then lowered her free hand to his scrotum like she knew he liked and gently massaged.

Harry’s deep moan came out a little too loud, “Shh… my love. Keep quiet.”

Harry clenched his jaw and licked his lips as he looked at his Queen. The water had drained from the tub and he knew that having her on her knees must hurt so he put his hand over hers, “Here,” he said, standing up and helping her along with him to the bed.

She was thankful that he was so thoughtful. Her knees were fine but she was sure another a few minutes and they’d have been sore and bruised.

Harry lay on the bed and Y/n settled between his legs. But this time, the soft surface under her knees made it easier to bend down and take him into her mouth.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he watched the Queen give him head and keep her eyes on his. She was always so good.

And of course, with his balls being stroked gently and his cock being sucked and swallowed around Harry came down her throat. He threw his arm over his mouth and bit into the skin to keep himself quiet. They’d both gotten pretty good at being very quiet.

Harry jerked his hips up and his cock slid deeper down her throat causing her to gag and pull back a little as she swallowed his salty come down.

Harry quickly put his fingers into her hair and helped lift her off, “Sorry, Y/n. Didn’t mean to do that,” he smiled as she laughed and shook her head.

Dinner was roasted vegetables and seared salmon. The King and Lulu drank red wine and Y/n had sparkling mineral water with lemon. The baby was jumping around at the meal and the drink in her belly to which she placed her hand over the movement and smiled to herself. She was close to saying something to Edgar about it but decided she didn’t want to share the lovely moment with him. These things were only for Harry and her good friend Rory nowadays. The King wouldn’t get the privilege.

“Are you feeling better?” Lulu asked as she happily sipped her wine.

Y/n furrowed her brow in confusion, “What do you mean? I’ve felt just wonderful lately.”

“Oh. You were so bright red and flushed when you got here for dinner. I thought you might have overworked yourself. “

Y/n raised her eyebrows and rubbed over her bump as she nodded. She was flushed when she arrived at dinner because she’d just finished off her lover in her mouth and was turned on quite a lot, “Oh. Yes. Sometimes I struggle to put on my clothes. And I’d just had a warm bath so that could be why. But I’m just fine. Thank you so much for your concern.”

“Tomorrow I was thinking of taking Lulu to the Pasteur with the horses that’s up the road. Have you visited since you’ve been here?”

Shaking her head no she spoke, “Of course not. I’m not allowed to leave the estate. Those were your rules.”

Lulu paused her motion as she was about to take a bite and looked from the Queen to Edgar but kept quiet. Yes, that’s right, Lulu. The King has forbidden his pregnant wife from outside contact. That is the kind of man you’re dealing with. Y/n thought to herself smugly.

The dessert was lemon chiffon pie. A request from the Queen. She’d done it on purpose. She knew Edgar despised it.

Another bottle of wine was served for the King and his mistress while Y/n sipped tea and enjoyed the dessert.

“I hope you do find the accommodations to your liking. I’ve never actually slept in the bed you’ll be in, Edgar, but the view of the garden is lovely. I’m sure Lulu will love the view as well. Undoubtedly you already have plans to show her the room anyway before leaving tomorrow.”

The King stared at Y/n and if looks could kill…

“But, anyway… I’m exhausted. The baby would like some rest and I’ve had a long day,” the Queen spoke as she stood up and looked at Lulu, “It was so lovely to meet you. What a wonderful thing you’re doing taking care of Edgar while I’m away. I’m sure he’s as happy as a clam, he sure seems very pleased.” She shifted her sight to Edgar and dropped her smile before turning to head back to her room.

Opening the door to her prince charming was always such a welcoming sight. The man could do no wrong. No matter what he was doing when she walked in. And this time he was doing pushups with his hair pulled back in one of her silk scrunchies. His shirt was off and he was already beginning to sweat. She wondered if he’d done it on purpose, just for her.

He sat back onto his knees with a grin as she strolled over to him and put her hands down to cup his face, tilting his head to look up at her, “Getting a workout in?”

Harry wrapped his strong arms around the back of her thighs, those dimples she adored cutting into his cheeks, pink lips curving up, “Well what does it look like I’m doing? Haven’t really been working out much lately. In fact, no real workouts since I left Manon. Figured I needed to keep up with you a little. You’ll get tired of me otherwise. M’getting’ soft.”

Snorting a laugh as Harry stood up she shook her head, “You? Soft? And I can’t tell that you haven’t worked out. You’re just naturally fit I guess. Good genes and all,” she raised her brows and put her hands on her tummy.

Harry put his hands over hers, “Yeah. Good genes.”

Y/n slid her hands up his chest, feeling his warm skin and muscled pecs on her way up, “So… you promised me a little something earlier,” she raised a brow.

“Oh did I? Hmm… And what was that?”

Y/n pursed her lips and hummed, “I believe your words were something along the lines of you were going to fuck me so good after I get back from dinner.”

Harry laughed and pushed his mouth to hers in a quick smack before pulling away, “Sounds delicious. Let me just take a quick shower-“

“Oh no you don’t. I want you just like this,” she said bringing her hands back over his slightly damp pecs.

Harry pulled his lips into his mouth and walked her backward to the bed as he kept his eyes on hers, “Then take your dress off my Queen. Let me see those big tits.”

His smirk was playful as he pulled his shorts down and started stroking himself. He watched her remove her clothes and his cock plumped up quickly at the sight of his pregnant Queen. When her breasts were freed from her bra he moaned and hastened his hand to pump himself to his tip. She was gorgeous. He’d never grow tired of looking at her, pregnant or not.

She was laid back into the bed gently as Harry moved over her body, his lips on her nipples and her bump and cunt.

“Already soaked, sweet girl,” Harry said running his fingers through her labia.

She nodded quickly, “Yes. Just fuck me, Harry. God, I need your cock or I’m gonna burst.”

Harry chuckled and tilted his head to look down at her, “Well, would hate for the Queen burst. Better give her what she wants.”

Harry laid down on his back and pulled her over him so she could sit and grind herself down on him. She loved hanging onto his pecs as she rode him gently, swaying her hips up and down, rocking her pelvis into his so her clit was being stimulated the whole time.

Harry squeezed her breasts in his hand as she rolled her hips and moaned. It was a delight to have him filling her and touching her. Having him every day for a week was doing wonders for her mental health, and probably her physical health too.

“Fuck, look at you, Y/n. Carrying my baby and riding my cock. You’re mine aren’t you?”

Y/n moaned and bit her lip as she nodded. She had to keep her volume down but Harry always felt so good and the way he talked to her in bed always made her toes curl. She sucked in a sharp breath when he bucked up into her, rocking his hips softly, “Yes. I love you. I’m yours, Harry.”

A small whimper fell from Harry’s mouth as he continued thrusting up into her. She was so wet and gripping his big cock just how he liked. But even with her pussy gripping him like it was, the sound was sloppy as they moved together.

“God I love you. Wanna get you pregnant again right after you have my first baby. Just keep knocking you up, fuck my come into you every night…” his words were strained as he spoke as quietly as possible.

“Yes! God… Fuck, Harry…” She widened her eyes and covered her mouth with one hand, looking at Harry who was chuckling, “shit that was loud.”

“If you want, we can do it like we did yesterday morning when the housekeeper was just in the hallway outside of the room.”

She grinned and lowered her hand from her mouth, “Actually, that sounds fantastic.”

Carefully, she pulled herself up and moved off of Harry, lying on her side as Harry moved in behind to spoon her. He lifted Y/n’s thigh, holding at the soft flesh underneath as he slid his cock back into position. He spoke quietly into her ear as he pushed himself inside of her, “There we go. Gonna fuck you like this, m’love. Make you cream all over my cock again. Ooh, fuck squeezing me so good baby. Just like that…” Harry closed his eyes as he bottomed out and positioned them so he could bring his hand to her mouth to keep her quiet just like they did the day before.

Y/n had been extra needy and she couldn’t wait til evening to have him. So she begged him and promised she’d be quiet even though the housekeeper was cleaning the hallway and the bathroom just feet from where she and Harry were. So he fucked her nice and slow and kept his hand over her mouth so the only noise coming from the room had been the subtle creaking of the bed.

When his palm covered her mouth she moved her own hand down to rub at her clit slowly as Harry plunged into her and pulled out to his tip, rolling his hips just right to get nice and deep.

Harry’s deep voice kept whispering into her ear, “You feel so good. Love how wet you get for me and how you’re so desperate for my cock. Love getting filled up with me don’t you?” His lips brushed against the back of her ear and she was already so far gone and moaning into his hand with abandon. Her noises were muffled as Harry panted and grunted quietly.

Her thighs were soaked. She’d made such a mess of herself once again and the sound of Harry’s cock plunging into her wet pussy was erotic and dirty.

He could feel her fingers brushing against his cock and then his balls as he pushed in further the way her fingers were rubbing at her clit. He knew her hand had to be wet with how everything between them was sticky with her arousal.

“Gonna come on my cock, love? Can feel your pussy clenching around me, your thighs are shaking. Let me feel you, Y/n.”

She was already coming before he finished speaking, her body tensing and her thighs beginning to close but Harry moved his leg between hers to keep her spread apart as he continued fucking into her.

Harry felt his balls tighten with his own orgasm. Her walls were pulsing around him and she was so wet and warm, “I’m gonna fill you up, Y/n. Fffuck, baby…”

Harry jerked his hips, reaching himself as far as his cock could go, and gasped as he moved his hand off the Queen’s mouth and held her thigh so he could use his thighs to continue working himself in and out as her cunt squeezed around him and milked his cock of every last drop of his come.

Moving her hand off her clit she reached around behind her to hold onto his forearm as he slowed his movements and let her leg fall down. Bringing his arm over her moved his hand over her breast and kissed her shoulder, “I love you. Love being with you. Would stay trapped inside this one room for the rest of my life if it meant being with you.”

Y/n laughed and turned her head, moving her body just enough that she could look over her shoulder at him, “Luckily you won’t have to do that. One day soon we’ll be able to be together without having to be trapped in a bedroom. Isn’t it funny that it’s been us in a bedroom alone together since the beginning? Only now we have more time. Can fall asleep next to one another, brush each other’s hair, make love all day long, watch movies, have long conversations… Actually, now that I think about it… being trapped in a room with you is pretty amazing.”

Harry squeezed her hip and pulled her in, lifting his head to kiss her. It was amazing. From the moment he first saw her again a week ago he knew this time would be different. There would be no going back from this. He would do everything he could to make sure that they ended up together.

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[hotshotsxyz]

thirteen threads

(6x12 companion) (1.7k words) (buddie adjacent) in which buck begins to identify the many things he feels following his near death experience. spoilers for 6x12

It’s in Eddie’s kitchen that Buck begins to unravel the tangled web of emotions that began weaving itself between his ribs the moment he was struck by lightning. 

The feeling he finds there is relief. It’s shaped a little bit like the couch he’d fallen asleep on, and a little bit like the beer in Eddie’s fridge. Buck draws it in with every breath, and lets himself feel it on every exhale. There’s more, much more that he needs to examine, but bathed in the soft glow of the living room lamps and blanketed by the comfortable silence between them, Buck decides that for a moment, it’s alright to feel just one thing. 

Eddie’s phone buzzes on the table, immediately drawing Buck’s eye. He’s surprised to see his sister’s name, but only because it took her this long. Eddie huffs a soft laugh, picks up the phone and stands. 

“Buck’s fine,” he says, as soon as the call connects. 

Buck can hear Maddie’s voice, but he can’t make out her words. 

“He’s asleep on my couch.” Eddie shoots a wink in Buck’s direction. 

Buck ducks his head and smiles. 

Eddie hums noncommittally at whatever Maddie says next. “Just a little overwhelmed, I think. Give him some time.”

A few moments pass, and Eddie’s expression shifts minutely. 

“I promise,” he says, solemn and soft. After another moment, he relaxes. “Goodnight Maddie,” he says. “I’ll tell him.”

Eddie hangs up the phone and returns to the table. 

“I maybe should’ve told her where I was going,” Buck says with a wry smile. 

“Maybe,” Eddie says, eyes sparkling the way they do when he thinks something is funny. 

“Not gonna ask me why I didn’t?”

Eddie shrugs. 

Buck scrubs a hand through his hair. “I guess you already know,” he says. 

Overwhelmed. That’s the second feeling he finds. 

…

Exhaustion, Buck discovers when he wakes on Eddie’s couch in the morning, is the third. It’s easier to unravel than the others, clearly visible from its point of origin all the way to the home it’s made in him. Physically and emotionally, Buck is tired. 

It’s not a new feeling, not by a long shot. It’s a little like an old friend, actually, comforting in its familiarity. Exhaustion is temporary. Exhaustion tells him that he’s still healing, that he won’t be stuck in his own head forever. 

Buck sends Bobby a quick text, one that receives a response almost immediately. He wonders for a moment what woke him, but doesn’t have to wait long to find out. 

He hears Christopher before he sees him, and immediately a smile stretches across his face. Buck sits up, and within seconds has an armful of the best kid in the universe. 

“Hey, kid,” he says, voice still raspy with sleep. 

“Hey, Buck,” Christopher replies. He pulls back and sits on the coffee table. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Buck says. “I missed you!” He ruffles Christopher’s hair. 

Christopher narrows his eyes, and for a moment, he looks exactly like Eddie. “You’re lucky I just woke up,” he says, patting his hair back down. 

A bright peal of laughter slips from Buck’s lips. 

In this moment, Buck feels warm. 

…

On the way to his appointment, Maddie calls. Buck feels a flash of frustration, followed in an instant by guilt. The two intertwine, and settle somewhere above his diaphragm. 

“Hi Maddie,” he answers. 

“Hey Buck,” she says. Her voice, contained by his Jeep’s speakers, sounds small. 

The guilt in his chest grows and squirms. 

“Are you on your way to the doctor?” Maddie asks. 

Buck swallows against the inexplicable urge to snap and slows to a stop as he reaches a red light. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yep,” he answers, trying not to let any irritation bleed into his voice. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Maddie, I’m fine,” Buck says, just a little too quickly. He can practically hear the frown on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry,” he says after a moment. “I really am okay. I just…”

Buck tries to follow the frustration to its origin, tries to find the words to explain why he can’t embrace her questions and worry with the same enthusiasm he’d had for Christopher and comes up empty. 

“It’s okay, Buck,” Maddie says gently. “I know this is hard.”

An ugly part of Buck wants to snap, no, no you don’t know, but Buck pushes it ruthlessly down. “I think I just need some time,” he says instead. 

“Okay,” Maddie says. “Just… don’t let yourself spiral alone. You know I’m here for you, whether you want me to be or not.”

Unexpectedly, Buck is hit with a flood of gratitude. “I know,” he says softly. “I know I’m not alone.”

He’s surprised to hear himself say it, and even more surprised to find he means it. Countless emotions lay tangled in his chest, but loneliness is not among them. 

…

The waiting room is quiet and sterile. Buck’s far from the only person sitting in it, but aside from the occasional clearing of a throat, no one makes a noise. It’s oppressive in a way the quiet hadn’t been the night before, and Buck feels stuck in it, choked by it. 

Time seems to move like molasses as Buck watches the interminable jerking motions of the second hand on the clock before him. Impatience, he thinks, is what he’s feeling now. 

Impatience is as familiar to Buck as exhaustion, and he’d half expected it to be the final knot he needed to unravel in order to begin processing, as Eddie put it. Maybe he’s grown, though, because it only really feels like a peripheral piece of the mess in his chest. 

A nurse calls his name, and it seems to evaporate. He’s sure it’ll come back when he finds out what test is next, but for now, there’s one less loose end to strangle him. 

…

At first, when Dr. Salazar asks how he’s feeling, Buck tells her what he knows to be true. 

“I’m getting my strength back,” he says, waiting for the next shoe to drop. 

When it does, it’s not the one he’s expecting. The newest feeling in his chest, draped delicately over the others, is disbelief. 

“Really?” he asks when Dr. Salazar says he can return to work. He kind of wants to prod her, to remind her what it is he does for a living. It’s not like he’ll be going back to a pile of paperwork. 

Well, actually he will, but that’s not really the point. 

“Do you want a second opinion?” she asks, and the thing is, Buck kind of does. 

Not because he doesn’t trust Dr. Salazar, he does, but because he’s all too familiar with the heartbreak of getting the all clear and having it pulled away at the last second. 

Buck remembers the pain in his leg that he would’ve sworn was just a pulled muscle and finally puts a name to the feeling that’s been driving his anger every time someone asks if he’s okay. 

Dread. The feeling that something terrible is still around the corner. That the universe is holding its breath, waiting for Buck to let his guard down. 

The only constant Buck’s ever really had is change, so when he asks, he half expects Dr. Salazar to say that everyone comes out the other side different. Instead, she tells him, in a way that makes Buck think of Bobby more than anyone else, that everyone finds their own way back. He thinks he understands why Eddie recommended her. 

“Thank you,” Buck says finally. “I think that helps.”

“You’re welcome,” Dr. Salazar says with a nod. “And Mr. Buckley– if you find yourself struggling with this experience more than you expect to, I have resources I’d be happy to share with you. It’s not unusual to have mixed feelings in a situation like this.”

Buck ducks his head and smiles. “Someone else said the same thing. He, uh– he said the best thing I could do is let myself feel them all.”

Dr. Salazar smiles. “He sounds like a smart man,” she says. 

“He is,” Buck agrees. 

…

Buck doesn’t call Maddie to tell her the good news. He doesn’t call Bobby or Eddie either. He doesn’t call Hen, and he doesn’t call Chim. Instead, he walks until he finds himself on a bench in front of a small pond. 

If it weren’t for the fountain in the middle, the water would be placid, undisturbed by wind or rain on this sunny day. Buck knows better than to think that nothing bad can happen on a beautiful day, but this one in particular feels safe. He wonders if that’s a feeling he can trust. 

As he watches the ducks swim and occasionally dive, Buck finds himself again poking at the mess of emotions in his chest. 

There was a time when he’d have done anything to hear that he was cleared to work. His job is who he is. Hell, he’d said as much to evil-him in his coma dream. So there should be happiness, somewhere in that tangled web. Excitement, maybe. As much as he digs, though, Buck can’t find it. 

Relief. 

Overwhelm.

Exhaustion. 

Warmth. 

Frustration. 

Guilt. 

Irritation. 

Gratefulness. 

Disbelief.

Impatience.

Anger. 

Dread.

Buck stands from the bench and turns his back to the lake. There’s something left, something that tangles with everything else and constricts his chest when he tries to breathe too deeply. He looks up at the sky, and instead of clear azure, he sees dark clouds and rain. 

Cold water pools in the divots of his skin, and he hears himself volunteer for a job he knows is going to kill him. His vision goes white, and all that remains is pain. 

Buck blinks and the sky is blue. 

The final piece of the puzzle comes loose, a corner piece laid before him that is mocking in its simplicity. 

Fear. 

Buck is terrified.