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rosie-read-that · 10 days ago

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one more afternoon / jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary: your brother's best friend pays a visit to his texas hometown, and in spite of your resolution to get over your (slightly embarrassing) childhood unrequited crush, you can't help but admit that you're still down bad for jake seresin.

content warnings: f!reader, alcohol use, oblivious reader can't take a hint

word count: 14k (you told me not to apologize for long fics, so here it is, i present it without apology!)

author’s note: hello, all! i wanted to have this out by thanksgiving, but i got hit with a stomach flu and then with a regular flu, so it took me this long to finish it. i hope the wait was worth it 🫶 the title is taken from a song by maggie rogers. as promised, the next one will be a short (i mean it this time!) and spicy holiday-themed one for all the tyler owens lovers 💓 thank you so much for voting in the poll that got this baby written.

“Did you hear the big news?” Your dad bustled into the shop with his arms full of greenery, grunting as he set the bundles wrapped in newspaper into a bucket. At the counter, your mom paused her accounting and fixed your dad an eager stare. She loved news. “Jake’s coming home for the wedding!” he announced. He brushed his hands off while yours fumbled over the order forms. A few slipped out of sequence and fluttered down to the floor. You bent to pick them up, hearing your mom’s sigh of delight.

“Oh, that's wonderful news! Dinah will be so pleased, and Amanda, too. She was worried Jake wouldn't manage to get leave. You know how much she adores him.”

“Well, she's not the only one. Mike’s ready to throw a whole goshdarn parade in his honor.” The forms retrieved, you busied yourself with putting them back in order. Your dad laughed. “I haven’t seen the kid that excited since the day Gilly was born.”

“Ow!” You stuck your finger in your mouth, the taste of blood making you wince.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” your mom asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just… paper cut.”

She came to your end of the counter. Taking your finger in her hands, she moved it this way and that, squinting at it through her glasses before she dropped a kiss on your head. “Mm, I think you’ll live.”

“Thanks for the diagnosis.”

“Don’t sass me!” she joked. “I’ll call Mike. Maybe we can all throw Jake a nice big barbecue, spend some time together like the old days.”

“He’ll probably be busy with wedding stuff,” you pointed out, mumbling around your finger.

She shot you a look that said spoilsport. “I know Jake, he’ll make the time. Besides, he’ll be walking with you at the wedding, won’t he?” Mom must have taken the shock of surprise for disappointment, because she smacked a hand against her forehead and said, “Oh, sorry! Me and my big mouth!”

It took you a moment to realize she wasn't talking about Jake.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, making a half-hearted attempt to sort through the forms again. Your parents looked at you skeptically. “I’m fine! Josh and I are practically ancient history.”

Dad, bless him, took your word for it, or at least pretended to. He picked up the bucket of sage bundles and took it into the back, but your mom hovered, stroking your shoulder, cloyingly sympathetic. It was clear she wanted to say something but was afraid of how you’d react. Knowing her, she’d give you that hangdog expression all day until you gave her permission to spill the beans, so you gave a deep sigh and turned to her with a look that said, “Alright, let’s have it.”

“I heard he’s bringing Mia to the wedding,” she blurted out. “Amanda was livid. She said she would disinvite him if you wanted—”

“Mom, I hope you told her that wouldn't be necessary.”

“Of course I did! But she said it was a standing offer.”

Oh, bother… Amanda was a sweetheart, if not a little overeager. As much as you appreciated everyone’s tact, it was also part of the reason why you still felt some awkwardness when you thought about Josh. Any time your friends or family brought up your ex, they looked at you like they were expecting you to fall to pieces, especially after word started going around that he had moved on to someone else. No matter how many times you insisted that they could refer to him normally and not as “him” or “you-know-who,” they thought you were being a brave martyr about it, pretending to take it better than you were for the sake of maturity.

“It’s not like that,” you explained for the thousandth time. “Josh and I are fine. And Mia…” Okay, so part of you did want to bash her over the head with a waffle iron. Still… “Nothing untoward happened. We were already broken up when they got together.”

“Well yeah, but after only a month,” your mom scoffed. “That’s hardly enough time to get over a six-year relationship.”

You shrugged. “Maybe some things are meant to be, and some… aren’t.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She hugged you from behind. You grimaced as she squeezed you tight and made cooing sounds. “You don’t have to be so civil about it. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I know, Mom, thanks.” You patted her hand.

“Anytime.” You thought that would be the end of embarrassing conversations you didn't want to have, until she clapped her hands and said, “Look on the bright side - it’ll be good to see Jake again! For him to meet the baby - and won’t the wedding pictures be just darling? He’s so handsome! I know you’ll look just fabulous together…”

It was as much cliché as it was ancient history. Jake Seresin - tall, tan, broad-shouldered, with a thousand-watt grin and a starring place on the high school football team - had been your crush since the moment you realized boys were more than just smelly, disgusting nuisances. Hell, you'd liked him even before the letterman jacket, around the time of his first growth spurt, when he’d come back from a summer visiting his aunt and uncle in California. From the porch steps, you'd seen him running into the yard to throw ball with your older brother, Mike, and your stomach had flopped and then flipped, and then flopped again. Looking back, Jake - a mere mortal - had an awkward phase just like everyone else, but you didn't see it at the time. To you, he was the dreamiest guy since you wore out your family’s Titanic VHS trying to feed your preteen fantasies of being Rose romanced by DiCaprio (before the ship went down).

Anyway, Jake’s awkward phase didn't last long. By the time he was a sophomore, he was playing on the junior varsity team along with Mike. Your sports-mad, overly enthusiastic dad gave them his blessing to turn the barn into their own personal gym, and while you complained about the unfairness of the world and the preferential treatment given to male athletes, you did find excuses to “run errands” and “pass through” so you could see Jake, shirtless, glistening with sweat. It didn't take long for Mike to notice. As a preteen, you weren’t exactly known for your finesse. While, in your opinion, you were doing nothing more than offering the boys a little lemonade - like Mom asked you to do - Mike would go back to the house for dinner and declare for all and sundry that he’d “appreciate it if you didn't salivate all over Jake like a peeping tom.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah, you do!”

“Mom, I swear it's not true! He’s making it up. You’re making it up, you buttface! You just don't want me hanging around—”

“Why would I want you hanging around? We’re training! You’re a kid, you're a safety risk!”

“Mooooom!” you wailed.

“Honestly, Mike, don't call your sister a safety risk. You're hardly grown yourself.”

“She called me a buttface!”

“That’s true. Sweetie, don't call your brother a buttface at the table, it's not polite.”

“Fine. I’ll call him a buttface later, like he deserves.”

No further comment was made about your crush on Jake on that occasion, but over the years it became your brother’s weapon of choice when he wanted to knock you down a peg, and “I’ll tell Jake you have a big fat crush on him” was a surefire way to get you to do whatever he wanted.

Once, you went down for a glass of water after you were supposed to be in bed and came upon Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen.

“—it’s a harmless little crush,” you heard her say. “We all had them at that age.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Of course you don't. She’s your daughter and you're finally working out that she's not going to be a little girl forever.” There was a pause. “You don't have to worry, Stan, I’ve given her The Talk.”

Ew, gross, ew! You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Yes, you remembered The Talk and you didn't want to have it ever again!

Your face heated as you knelt on the stairs. Hearing about The Talk in relation to you and Jake made you think about the stuff you’d seen at your friend Tessa’s house on the TV one night during a sleepover. You had stared at the screen, titillated and kind of horrified at what the actors were doing, the way their bodies moved and the sounds they made. Once the scene was over, you turned to each other and burst into nervous giggles, knowing your parents would blow a gasket if they knew what you’d seen. Not that you understood it. You knew how babies were made, but you didn’t understand what sex was supposed to be.

And your dad was worried about you having it? With Jake?

“He’s a good kid,” your mom gentled. “He knows she's too young for him - I’m not even sure he's aware that she likes him. Even if he is, he treats her like Mike’s kid sister. She’ll grow out of it.”

“If you say so, hon. But God as my witness—”

“She’s gonna have a boyfriend at some point.”

“When she’s eighteen,” your dad declared, “and not a moment sooner!”

You padded back to your room. It wasn’t news, but hearing that Jake thought of you as a kid dealt a heavy blow to your self-esteem. From then on, you resolved to play your cards closer to the chest - you might not be able to help the way he made you feel like your insides had turned to melted goo, but no one else had to talk about it behind your back like you had some sort of disease.

Unfortunately, playing it cool was one of the hardest things you had to do during high school. As it turned out, Jake and Mike were actually pretty good at the whole football thing. Around the time they made varsity, you zeroed in on the fact that girls found their athletic prowess to be sexually irresistible; they were crazy about them - and crazy about Jake in particular.

You watched as he winked and blew kisses at a train of girlfriends while he was out on the field. He leaned against their lockers, turning the charm up to eleven and brushing strands away from their cheeks, saying things like, “Pick you up at six?”

When he got his first truck - a beat-up old Chevy that he bought off Don Amberley by working shifts at the hardware store - you’d peer around your curtains at the sound of his horn. Sometimes Mike would take a while to leave the house, and Jake would turn his head to kiss the pretty girls in his front seat as a way to pass the time. The shy ones laughed, warding him off with a light push against his chest, while the bold ones closed their nails around his shirt and pulled him even closer, all but straddling his lap. You watched with bated breath as he put his hands on them, green with envy, wondering what it would be like to have his attention, not as his best friend’s little sister but as an actual girl.

Your suffering lasted a whole calendar year, after which Jake went off to college, then joined the Navy, and while time made you realize that you needed to move on with your life and stop making up scenarios about a white picket fence and two-point-five children, you never forgot about Jake, who in your mind - and despite your best efforts - remained the measure to which you compared every other guy.

It wasn't just his ridiculously handsome good looks, though having the body of a Greek god and a smile that made your toes curl didn't hurt. He had helped you when you’d scraped your knee roller-blading, letting you lean on his shoulder and fetching the bandages from the downstairs powder room; he joined your mom in the kitchen to do the washing-up when he stayed over for dinner, saying, “ma’am, I insist,” which earned him funny looks from Mike, but it never swayed him into doing things differently. You liked that he’d earned his first truck, got good grades, was a loyal friend. To you, Jake Seresin was the full package and then some - what more could anyone want? And while you had long accepted that he would make another woman very happy someday, the way in which your family teased you about your “little childhood crush” never failed to put your stomach all in knots. There was nothing little about it. In fact, it had now lasted well into adulthood and you had a feeling it would never fully go away.

Dad was right. Michael insisted on being part of the airport welcome wagon, cringey sign and all. He even stuck Gilly in an adorable pilot’s costume. Your sister-in-law sent you looks the entire way and, like a saint, restrained herself by only once making a comment about “your brother’s true wife.”

You sat in the backseat, trying to will yourself into being less nervous. Maybe it was your guilty conscience; for some reason, you kept thinking about all the times you’d imagined him in bed, or in the place of one of your boyfriends when you were doing couple-things. Be cool, be cool, you kept telling yourself.

By the time you parked at the airport, you thought your poker face was pretty flawless. After helping Julie wrestle the baby things into the stroller, you made your way through the chaotic mass of people coming and going through the Barbara Jordan terminal. The weather was good. Jake had texted your brother to say that he’d landed safely and was waiting to deplane, and Mike, vibrating with excitement, was trying to stake out a place in the Arrivals hall that would show his dorky Welcome Home, Hangman! sign in optimal light. Honestly, it was kind of embarrassing to be seen with him. You kept apologizing to the people he elbowed out of the way, as if to say, “Move aside, I was here first, bud!” But it did strengthen your resolve to be chill because at least one of you had to be.

Finally, you spotted a familiar face in the line of passengers spilling into the hall. Like something out of a romcom, Jake Seresin spotted Mike standing in the crowd, dropped his duffle bag, and came bounding into his arms. They talked over each other between laughter and bro-y exchanges, while Julie snorted through her nose and even Gilly sputtered and snuffled. You could take the boy out of Texas, it seemed… but back home he was still sixteen around friends.

Jake turned to you and smiled. “Hey, Cabbage.”

“Please, don’t,” you said, feeling awkward about the old nickname.

“Come here, bring it in.” He held out his arms, grinning, and there was no conceivable reason why you’d say no, so you steadied your nerves and stepped into them. He wrapped his arms around you. He smelled just as good as you remembered him - better, even, because a memory could never be as good as the real thing.

“You’re so stiff!” Jake pointed out, squeezing you tighter.

“No, I’m not.”

“What am I, your creepy uncle?” He looked down at you, then over your shoulder and spotted the baby in Julie’s arms.

His smile lit up his whole face and you felt your heart twist against your ribcage. You let out a breath when he let you go, trying not to fixate on the way his hand brushed against your shoulder as he did so, a slide that seemed to linger.

Fondness - that was all it was, you told yourself. He’d known you all your life and he was fond of you.

He turned his attention now to your little niece.With something like awe, he said, “Michael, you old bastard…” Then, “Sorry, little lady - you must be Gilly! Hi! Hi there, it’s your Uncle Jake! Your not-at-all-creepy Uncle Jake…”

“Nice one,” you threw back.

He grinned wider, saying, “Julie, how are you?”

“About as well as can be expected with a teething baby.”

“Well, you look great.”

“Liar,” Julie replied, but his comment made her stand a little straighter.

He let Gilly grip his finger in an attempt at a handshake. Being a sucker for attention, she wiggled her body in her mother’s grasp and held her arms out to the smiley stranger, wanting to be carried. Jake was thrilled. He bounced her in his arms the entire way to the car, asking about the wedding, his parents, how Amanda was doing, which of their friends he could expect to see on Saturday afternoon. Mike stuck to him like glue, carrying Jake’s bag for him and answering his questions. You were certain he’d send Julie to the back so Jake could ride shotgun, but instead, he loaded Gilly into her baby seat and Jake touched you on the elbow, saying, “I can take the middle seat.”

“You don't want the window?” you asked, your arm tingling. He had slipped on a pair of sunglasses once he left the terminal and he looked like a movie star, all golden skin, slicked-back hair, and a hint of stubble on his jaw. You had no idea how you were supposed to survive a 90-minute car ride when just the sight of him made you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“I want to sit next to my goddaughter. You get her all the time,” he pointed out and ducked into the car.

Helpless, you climbed in after him and pulled the door closed. In the back of the SUV, there was no way for your bodies not to touch. By necessity, your arms and thighs pressed together, his body solid and warm. You didn't want to draw attention to yourself by squirming away even though your heart was beating double-time and you were at a loss as to what to do with your hands.

Thankfully, the car started moving, and by the time you made it onto the highway you had almost gotten used to the feeling of his muscled forearms and the smell of his cologne. You were focusing on the passing landscape as he made small talk with Mike and Julie, so it caught you unawares when he turned to you and said, “So - it seems we’re paired up for the wedding. I’m sorry about you and Whatshisface, by the way.”

Here we go… “I know that you name his name, Jake.”

“Do I? Persona non grata. I must have erased him from my memory chip.” He was grinning like the cat who caught the canary, and there was something about the twinkle in his eye that made you glare daggers at your brother, who was looking suspiciously blank-faced sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my God, Mike, what did you tell him?”

“Nothing! I just said you two broke up and that he’s with Mia now.”

“That cow,” Julie put in.

“Okay, time out!” you called, doing the motion with your hands. “As much as I appreciate this show of familial solidarity, it’s really not necessary. Josh and I are cool.”

“Well, we’re not!” Mike said.

“Then be cool, Mike! And you!” You wagged your finger in front of Jake. He stared at it like it was the most amusing thing in the world. “You just got here. Do you really want to spend the rest of the week picking fights that have nothing to do with you?”

Evidently, the answer was yes, but he raised his hands in a facetious show of surrender. “Hey, I never liked the guy.”

“Dude, neither did I!” Mike crowed.

“What? You never said anything!”

“I’ve always said that - haven’t I, babe?”

“Mike, you say a lot of things,” Julie drawled.

“…including the fact that I never liked the guy! Him and his beady little eyes—”

“He gets hay fever!” you defended. “That’s not his fault!”

“—and the fact that he stayed in the apartment—”

“I wanted to move out! Julie, a little help here?”

“Hey, I don't like the guy either.”

“What?” You were flabbergasted. You thought that everyone liking Josh was the whole reason why they felt communally betrayed by the breakup. Now they were acting like the spearheads of an anti-Josh conspiracy? “Are you seriously telling me this six years after the fact? You went to games with him!”

“Wait, you went to games with Josh Spritzer?” Jake balked, his voice going up an octave while Mike went red in the face.

“I was in a dark place, man. Julie was pregnant and you weren't around… It was a case of the pre-baby blues!”

“I feel like you just admitted to cheating on me. Josh Spritzer?”

“Hey!” you warned.

“I mean, I guess it’s all a matter of taste, sweetheart…”

“Seresin, what the hell!”

“…although God knows I never knew what you saw in him—”

“Oh, didn't you?”

“Hey, I love you all sooo much,” Julie piped up from the passenger seat, “Jake, I’m happy you’re here, but will you all shut up so Gilly can sleep?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Though Jake sobered up, the provoking glint remained in his eyes. Once more you were aware of his closeness and the heat of his skin.

“Unbelievable…” you said underneath your breath, crossing your arms, your reward being another one of Jake’s dazzling smiles.

When you arrived, the reunion was as rowdy as you expected. About two dozen Seresins and their closest friends and family had convened at Jake’s childhood home. Amanda cried when she saw her favorite cousin coming towards her, and she excitedly introduced him to her husband-to-be, a bookish engineer named Christian who came from a small family and seemed as flattered as he was overwhelmed by all the attention.

Dinner was served outdoors, buffet style. The backyard was strung up with twinkling lights and music played from a pair of speakers stationed at the back porch. The air was festive and full of hope; it was easy to get caught up in the pre-wedding bliss when you were well-fed, your glass never empty, the company some of your most loved people in the world.

Josh - thank God - was not in attendance. He was supposed to walk down the aisle with you. Your save-the-date and wedding invitation had arrived labeled with his name along with yours, the assumption being that of course your long-term, live-in boyfriend would be your date. After you’d broken up, Amanda had to reshuffle her arrangements to keep you as one of her bridesmaids, the only upside being that Jake’s uncertain attendance made him your perfect partner.

Well, perfect for Amanda, if not for you.

At some point in the night, after speeches had been made and dessert served, Jake took the seat next to you to chat with his great-aunt Sandy and her boyfriend, Clyde. The apple pie came courtesy of Mrs. Seresin, who had the best recipe in the county and probably the entire state of Texas, in your limited and yet eager opinion. You demolished it with aplomb and once you finished, Jake pushed his plate towards you, the crust untouched. “Have at it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“I know it’s your favorite part.”

The fact that he remembered made you feel sixteen again, watching him come home from university, crushed at knowing that he had a whole life you didn't know about, people he knew who were probably far more interesting, sophisticated and self-assured. He joined the Navy, and then moved out west while you stayed behind in your hometown, stationary while he took to the skies.

He had always been nice to you, for all that he enjoyed teasing you and even making fun of you on occasion. But that didn't mean you would ever be anything more to him than his best friend’s sister, someone he indulged in the same way as Amanda.

You excused yourself from the table, picking up plates as a pretense to head inside and get a few moments to yourself. This was exactly the reason why you hadn't wanted Jake to come home. Selfishly, in your heart of hearts, you had prized your own comfort above Amanda’s happiness, which made you feel like a Grade-A jerk, but you weren't ready to confront the way he made you feel after all this time. How could you explain to yourself, let alone anyone else, that you were holding out for a fantasy you’d had since you were young?

Suddenly, the presence of everyone you’d known and loved all your life felt oppressive rather than a source of delight. You poured yourself a glass of wine from one of the open bottles on the counter and went out to the Seresins’ front porch. From there, the sounds of the party seemed far away and you let out a sigh of relief. You sat on the ledge with your back to one of the vertical beams, watching the night breeze move the branches on the trees and the clouds which obscured the waning moon. Gradually, your mind slowed its pace and you were able to enjoy the song of the night critters mingled with the distant music of someone - probably Clyde - strumming his guitar.

Your repose was broken by the screen door opening and then clattering shut behind you, making you turn your head to see Jake coming outside, just a touch sheepish but for the most part his usual Jake-self, out of his jacket and carrying a bottle of beer.

He lowered himself beside you, and after a moment’s silence, said, “So, how’ve you been? Aside from Whatshisface.”

You shot him a warning look. If he was bringing up Josh, it was only to tease you like he’d done in the car and you weren’t in the mood right now to be the butt of a joke - not when you felt so vulnerable about what he was to you. (Dammit… and of course this has to be a wedding.)

“What,” he said, gently cajoling, “I can’t ask?”

“About my personal life? You never used to care.”

“In high school, I don’t think I was supposed to care. And afterwards—”

“Afterwards, Hangman got a little too full of himself,” you quipped.

“Hey… that's… actually pretty accurate, I’m not gonna lie.” He took a swig of beer, laughing as he said it. The porch light threw his features into sharp relief and you gave yourself permission to look at him - really look at him - for the first time since he returned.

Setting aside that he was gorgeous as ever, he seemed less carefree than you remembered, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He appeared, well, like a grown-up, for lack of a better word. You wondered whether you were being unfair in making assumptions when you had both changed so much in the last decade, as people tended to do. He wasn’t just the dream guy in your head; he was so many things in his own right, and he was here with you, wanting to talk - and maybe trying to get to know you on an even field.

If only that wasn't another reason to love him.

“You seem different,” you said, hoping your voice wasn’t giving you away.

He looked at you for a few breaths, the corner of his mouth tipped up but the rest of his face serious. Then he shrugged in mock humility with a “What can I say, greatness suits me.”

“Idiot…” You shook your head and let out a snort, though on the inside you felt full of champagne - fizzy and bright because he was with you.

“How's the shop going?” he asked after a beat.

“Pretty well. We’re doing the flowers for Amanda’s wedding.”

“And you're bridesmaiding?”

“It’s hardly flying F-18s.”

“I think Amanda would disagree.”

“Well, it is her wedding,” you pointed out, “she’s—”

“Out of her mind,” Jake enounced.

“She’s excited,” you corrected even as a montage ran through your head of all the times Amanda had texted the wedding party’s WhatsApp group to say that “a catastrophe” had occurred or that today was the worst day of her life because “the linen photos do NOT reflect the true shade. I wanted SAGE green - doesn’t this look laurel to you?”

“She’s my cousin,” Jake went on. “In fact, she’s my favorite cousin - which is how I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she’s the biggest bridezilla this side of the Mississippi. To being wedding buddies,” he said and held his beer out towards you, “’cause God knows we’re gonna need it.”

“Wedding buddies,” you said, and clinked your glass. You waited until he had a mouthful of beer to say, “So, how’s your love life these days?”

“O-ho!” He nearly choked. “We are not doing that.”

“That hardly seems fair!”

“Age before beauty, Cabbage: I still get to make a few of the rules.” Watching your face work into a grimace, he laughed. “You really do hate when I call you that, don't you? Look at you! It's like a full-body cringe!”

“Stop it!” you complained.

The unfortunate nickname started back when you were a kid and had a penchant for a particular Cabbage Patch doll, which, in hindsight, seemed like an emotional support object, thank you very much. You carried it around until you were forcibly parted during Kindergarten - hence, Cabbage Patch, which in time shortened itself to “Cabbage.” It was cute when your mom said it, but Jake?

“You don't seem to mind when Mike calls you that,” he replied.

You narrowed your eyes. “I’ve seen Mike in all sorts of undignified situations. It evens the playing field.”

“I’d say we've known each other almost as long.”

“It is not the same.”

“How come?”

“It’s just… not.”

“I’m getting nothing else out of you by way of an explanation, aren't I? Fine…” he dramatically sighed. “I guess I’ll stop calling you Cabbage.”

“You don't have to…”

“Nope, it's done, it's retired!”

“Thank you,” you said, a little embarrassed.

From the backyard came a round of applause as Clyde finished his song. Jake smiled at you, then leaned close with a devilish glint in his eye. “Are you sure you're okay with the whole Josh thing? We can always make it our mission to make him insanely jealous.”

You scoffed. “Please, he would never buy that. You and me? He’d see right through it.”

“I want you to know that your lack of faith in my abilities is deeply, deeply hurtful. I’m just saying! You haven't seen me in action!”

“Oh, I’ve seen you in action, alright…”

“There she is!” he cackled.

You hoped the laughter meant he’d missed the note of jealousy in your voice. “Besides, I don't care about making him jealous,” you said with a shrug. “He and Mia are good together.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah… Okay, look,” you sighed, “the only reason I’m telling you this is because you're not them, so I’d better not hear a word from Mike about anything I’m about to tell you. Deal?”

He nodded, and mimed zipping his lips closed for dramatic effect.

“There’s just… no sob story about it,” you began. “By the time it was over, it was almost a relief. And honestly? If it hadn't been for our families, we would've broken up ages ago.”

“What was wrong with him?”

By the look on his face, it was like he expected you to say he had a funny snore or that he chewed too loudly or had an extra head. If only the truth were that tangible. He wasn't mean to you, didn't cheat. But he wasn't Jake. He didn't make you excited to wake up in the morningz

“By the end, we were more like roommates than boyfriend and girlfriend,” you explained. “I mean, when it happened, did I want to claw Mia’s face off, knowing she’d been angling for an opening for years? Of course I did. But that was more about my pride than anything. I wasn't heartbroken. I’m not,” you insisted. “But telling them that would feel like ruining Christmas. They're having fun slinging mud on my behalf.”

“And maybe just a tiny part of you enjoys it?” Jake asked.

“If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

He laughed. “Do you really think I’m above a bit of harmless spite? Hell, I practically wrote the playbook. But what you said - about your pride being hurt? That goes for him too, you know. He doesn't have to buy the whole thing, he just has to see you moving on. Trust me, it’ll hurt.”

“Maybe I don't care enough to hurt him.”

Jake studied you, his eyes shining in the warm glow. “You really have grown up,” he said at last. “I, on the other hand—”

“Oh, come on. Jake, you’re all talk, always have been.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The summer before your junior year,” you pointed out, “you spent nearly all of it replacing Will Delonge’s wooden fence and you told no one about it. The only reason I know is because Mom found out—”

“Your mom finds out about everything,” Jake lamented.

That she did. “You helped Arn McCallister with his math grade,” you added. “You asked Gina to dance at the Winter Ball when her friends made that bet—”

“Some friends,” he interjected. “I swear, Fiona Brussaurd still scares the shit out of me. What, were you keeping tabs on me all through high school?”

“Everyone was keeping tabs on you all through high school,” you confessed. “You were Jake Seresin, Hometown Hero. You still are. You could probably get away with murder.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. If you weren't mistaken, there was a tinge of pink in his cheeks, but it might have been the beer he finished, or a play of the light. “Actually, I can’t. Semper Fortis, remember? You can't fly planes in prison. Besides, I am way too pretty for that uniform.”

“And you always do that,” you replied. “Try to throw people off the scent of you being an actually decent guy. But I know the truth,” you pointed out. “You have a tell.”

“Really, what's that?”

Over the course of the conversation Jake had angled towards you without your notice; now, your knees were touching and his upturned mouth was close enough to kiss. Your heart was racing in your chest, and yet his gaze was like a challenge - don’t back down, he seemed to say, and that was all Jake. He was exhilarating, just by being himself.

You dared to draw even closer, as if whispering a secret. “Mothers love you.”

“Maybe I’m just really good at pretending.”

“Take the hit, Seresin. No one is that good.”

Smiling, he nudged your knee and leaned back on his hands, sitting with you until the first early-nighters began to leave.

Amanda Seresin was two years older than Jake. Her dad, Jake’s uncle, passed away when Amanda was fourteen, and ever since, Jake and his parents had taken her and Dinah under their wings. Jake was the closest thing she had to a brother, and though he was younger, you knew Jake was incredibly protective of her and his aunt, so you were determined not to ruin his wedding experience by being a lovestruck weirdo.

After your time together on the porch, that might prove difficult for you. But this was about Amanda. She assigned you to be his date, and you were going to be a professional about it.

Literally. You were handling the flowers, after all.

“These are a little tall, aren’t they?” your mom asked, fretting over the tulips at the center of one of the guest tables. “I asked for measurements, but now that they’re here…”

You glanced at your watch. “We have time to fix them.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, mom, all of them. Let’s take them into the kitchen, then we can rush up and change before the cocktails start.” You knew she wouldn’t have a speck of peace if she didn’t get them trimmed. She would fret and fuss, and probably commit floral kidnapping crimes when it all got too much. She liked everything to be perfect, especially for the people she loved, so you ignored the time crunch and your watch yelling at you that it was 4:35, twenty-five minutes before guests were due to arrive for drinks and canapés, and, signaling for your dad to help gather up the centerpieces, you rushed into the venue’s kitchen and started trimming down with the nearest pair of garden shears.

Your mom breathed a sigh of relief when the task was done and a few of the earliest guests offered to help carry the vases back to the tables, giving you enough time to head upstairs and put on the blue dress you’d brought in a garment bag.

So you were fussing about your looks… That didn’t mean you were not chill, it just meant you wanted to look nice… for Amanda. For the photos. It had nothing to do with Jake Seresin at all.

By the time you made it down - finally, and a little late since you spent more on it than usual perfecting your makeup - there were about sixty people on the lawn, nibbling on pulled pork sliders and mac-and-cheese bites, mini tacos and bacon-wrapped dates. You spotted your dad grabbing one of everything and your mom pulling on his sleeve, probably to hiss, “Pace yourself, hon.” She had a glass of champagne in one hand, more as a prop, since half of her attention was spent surveying her work as if anticipating one of the centerpieces to go up in flames.

Knowing her, she might have packed a tiny fire extinguisher in that glittery, silver clutch.

You stifled a laugh, grabbing a plate and a few of the canapés from a passing waiter. The rehearsal dinner was a much bigger affair than the barbecue Jake’s parents had thrown for close friends and family the night before. You knew Josh would be in attendance (probably with Mia) and so would a lot of your high school crowd. Letting out a sigh, you threw your shoulders back and tried to look relaxed, exchanging greetings as you mingled with the growing number of guests. It was a beautiful night. God must love Amanda, as He should, because the weather was balmy in a pleasant way, warm enough that the ladies could throw off their wraps and show off their dresses, the men leave their jackets draped over chairs.

The venue was a little bed and breakfast with a sprawling back patio and hedges that grew around the property, gracefully unkempt, with magnolia trees in bloom. You said hello to your old History teacher, a small, soft-spoken woman with a gray bob and tortoiseshell glasses dangling on a chain. In turn, she had taken personal interest in Amanda, Jake, and then you - she was the whole reason Amanda went into teaching, and you heard Jake mention once that he wouldn’t have joined the Navy if not for her. Sometimes, you felt a little self-conscious about not having more to show for your education, but Ms. Beauchene never made you feel like your life choices were a disappointment. She popped into the flower shop on occasion, pleased with her paper-wrapped bouquets, and no matter what, without fail, you’d ring her up and she’d say with full honesty, “These are going to make my week,” before she walked out humming.

You were glad Amanda included her in the rehearsal, especially when you spotted Josh walking in with his arm around Mia’s waist. Excusing yourself, you made for the bar and ordered one of the signature cocktails, Amanda’s favorite blackberry bourbon smash, and downed half of it before turning back and making small talk as if your life depended on it. Strangely enough, it wasn’t the sight of Josh that had you feeling like the inside of your brain was crawling with ants. It was Mia. You hated the thought of her seeing any kind of weakness in you - that she might take in your appearance and think that your hairdo was messy or that your eyes looked a little dark, and assume from it that she’d left you a human wreck after her little victory.

Without a doubt, Mia had attended the Fiona Brussaurd School of Mean Girls, and the last thing you wanted to do was appear like the lesser creature. So when your family began to fuss under the pretense of “casually” making conversation, you swatted them away, feeling grateful when dinner was announced and everyone could retreat to their neutral corners.

You chose to sit at a table with a few old school friends, one of whom was also in the wedding party, and to avoid the meaningful looks Julie had been sending you all evening, you sat with your back to the rest of the guests, enjoying the hour of relative peace and reminiscing, the view of an ornamental fountain set with warm lights, and your plate of pan-seared sea bass and cheesy potatoes. Gradually, the music shifted from sit-down easy listening to dancing tunes, and the people at your table began seeking out partners or joining those already on the lawn who were spinning and jiving in every available space.

Soon, you were alone at the table. You leaned back in your chair, enjoying the breeze against your face. If you closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of music and laughter, you could almost forget all the drama with your ex…

You felt a tap on your shoulder. Looking up, you saw Jake and his movie-star grin. The butterflies started banging around your stomach again. Forget the tulips, you were the one with your nerves all in a tangle tonight.

“Hey, stranger - ’nother drink?” he asked, offering you another of the bourbon cocktails. He had a rocks glass in his other hand, and without waiting for an invitation he took the chair next to you, throwing his arm across the back of yours.

You replied, “Yes, please,” trying not to melt into his touch. Nuzzling against him like a cat would not be chill, you reminded yourself, even if he did look incredible with his open dress shirt collar and the little peek of his chest made you feel like a Victorian with the vapors.

He lounged in that casual way of his, attractive without trying. “These things really go on forever, don't they?”

“And it’s just the rehearsal dinner.”

“What happened to getting married on a Tuesday while everyone’s at work?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you just quote Runaway Bride?”

His face went still. “What, no.”

“Yes, you did!” you exclaimed, setting down your drink and straightening in your seat. Jake looked mildly panicked and was doing his best to look innocent, which you found absolutely hilarious. “Oh my God, are you a closet romcom man?”

“It must've been subconscious.”

“Subconscious, my ass,” you shot back.

“She looks happy.” Jake tipped his head towards Amanda despite the fact that she was behind you both, out of sight, and clearly being used as a way to change the subject. “You know the guy?”

“You met him yesterday,” you said. And I know what you're doing implicit was in your tone.

Jake shrugged, an expert at deflection. “Yeah, but it's hard to tell what a guy’s made of from a single meeting.”

Deciding that the accusation of Romcomitis would go unanswered on this particular occasion, you tested the limits of his cool under pressure, pretending to deliberate before you played along with the conversational shift.

“D’you want to hear the absolute worst thing I can think to say about him?”

Jake went battle-ready, poised to hate the guy. You watched his shoulders and the set of his jaw change, and it made you want to touch the side of his face and kiss the frown away, laughing as you did.

Just messing with you, you would say.

It would be so easy. Maybe the fantasy was clouding your judgment - along with your third cocktail of the night - but you could feel in your body that being with Jake would be as natural as breathing.

You looked over your shoulder, watching Christian lean into Amanda to whisper something into her ear.

He had his hand on her arm and looked a little spooked, probably because one of the Seresins’ honorary aunts, Jackie, who was known for her tell-it-like-it-is comments, no matter how indiscreet, was walking away. Poor guy. Amanda giggled at whatever he said and stroked his hand, whispering back words of reassurance. Their demeanor together was easy, full of shorthand. And Amanda did look happy - so happy that it made you a little jealous, pleased as you were that she had found her person.

Jake followed your gaze, watching them alongside you.

“He's a little dull,” you explained. “But in a good way. He mellows her out.”

“Amanda? That sounds like an impossible task. But I can see it…” He cocked his head. “I think.”

You turned your eyes back to your own table. Jake was fiddling with his glass, watching the amber liquid swirling around the oversized iced cube. He looked pensive, a furrow appearing between his brows that, in another life, you would have stroked away.

He shook his head and raised the glass to his lips. “You don't realize how much you've missed…”

Before you could think about it, you had your hand on his arm. “Hey, no one's keeping score.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Then don't,” you insisted. “You do what you've gotta do - we all know that. Your parents know it, Amanda knows it. She’s just happy you're here.”

You could tell that, as much as he appreciated your words, they weren't enough to sweep away all the moments he hadn't been around to see. It didn't matter that Jake loved flying planes, that he was proud to be one of the best naval aviators in the service, and wouldn't change his career for the world. He was still in a position where he had to ask you what Amanda’s future husband was like. He had missed his goddaughter’s christening, had to rush out of Mike and Julie’s wedding five years ago… He’d made an oath, and for as long as he wore the uniform, his first commitment was to something other than his family. Other than himself.

He spoke his next words quietly, almost to himself, just for you.

“You know, the thing about flying is that when you're up there, nothing else matters. It can’t. All of your focus, all of your faculties, your energy… they're in the air. Meanwhile, all of this real life… the thing we’re meant to be safeguarding for everyone else, it doesn't stop, and when you land right back in the middle of it—”

He stopped.

“Yeah?” You were hanging on for the rest of it, eager for these little pieces of Jake that you stored up even after he was gone.

“I mean, it feels like yesterday since I left for college, signed up. Now Amanda’s getting married, Mike’s having kids, you are having just the worst luck of the year…”

“Hey!” you laughed.

“I’m kidding, kidding!”

“You’re sounding like an old man, Jake. You're thirty-two - pull yourself together. Jeez! Who knew Top Gun would make you so existential? Is that why you're self-medicating with classic romantic comedies?”

“If you ever tell Mike, I swear to God—” He pointed his finger at you, and you pinched it in two of yours, earning a chuckle and a childish attempt at a thumb-war game that was interrupted when the bride herself came up behind you and threw her arms around you both with a “Hey, you two!”

“Mands!” Jake exclaimed, craning his neck to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Having fun?”

“Absolutely. So, so much—”

“You big fibber,” Amanda threw back. “Why are you here? Go dance!”

“Can’t. I’m keeping my date company, and a gentleman never abandons his date. It’s in the rules.”

“Good thing I know you're not a gentleman. You're in my wedding party!” she said. “It’s up to you two to set a good example for the other guests.”

“Yes, ma’am. Shall we?” He offered you his hand, throwing Amanda a look that said, See? I’m following orders.

She smiled back, giving you room to rise from your chairs and circle round. With her arms crossed, she watched as you found an open space, making sure you’d followed through before seeking out her next victims.

As bad luck would have it, the song switched from something uptempo to an Ashley Monroe ballad, romantic strings and all. “Has anybody ever told you/ that when you walk into a dark room/ the light of a thousand moons surround you?/ Yeah, there's just something about you./ Has anybody ever told you?”

It was stupid, but the words felt so real with Jake’s hands on you that you were worried he’d be able to read your mind or see on your face that you meant every sentence. You tried looking anywhere else, at the other couples, the catering staff picking up empty glasses, at your mom fluffing a perfectly decent bouquet, anywhere but at Jake.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” you asked, eyes darting nervously at being caught red-handed.

“Tense up like I’ve got the plague,” Jake said. “You’re making this weird.”

“I’m making what weird?”

“We’re dancing!” He pressed one hand against your hip, the other into your lower back. “Just dance!”

“By which I’m sure you mean, ‘just follow my lead’?”

You didn't mean to sound so prickly, you were just panicking and trying to throw Jake off the scent. This does not constitute playing it cool, you scolded yourself. But instead of taking it badly, Jake laughed as he stared down at you.

“If you like. Or I can follow yours if it makes you feel any better. Here, you can put your hand on my waist - but leave room for Jesus.”

“Dork.”

“There we go,” he cajoled, swaying with you in time to the beat. “Letting you insult me seems to really get your engines going. We should analyze that.”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

“I don’t know, do I?” He cackled out loud at the dark look you sent his way, stroking your back in a way that meant absolutely nothing, but which you felt all the way down to your toes. “You make it too easy,” he added.

Jake’s sense of humor made it hard to stay self-conscious. Eventually, you eased into the dance and you were almost sorry when the song switched to something a little more upbeat that didn't require him to stand so close to you. Still, he twirled you in a circle and brought you back into the solid curve of his body, showing off.

Then, out of nowhere, his face worked into a scowl as he spotted something a few yards to your right. You turned your head to see what it was, so lost in the moment that it took a few seconds for you to register that Josh was dancing with Mia, quite well, actually, to the Texas Tornados.

“Look at that schmuck.”

“Jake…” you warned.

“What? It’s just an observation, I’m not saying it for your benefit.”

“She looks incredible,” you sighed. On anyone else, the dress she had on would make them look like a costume disco ball, but on Mia it looked modern and chic, showing off her body and matching well with a slicked back bun and dangly earrings.

Jake’s shoulder rose and fell beneath your hand. “If you say so. She’s not really my type.”

Are you serious? “Jake, just about every woman is your type.”

“I’m sorry, are you slut-shaming me right now? In this political climate? I could have you canceled for that.”

“Ha-ha,” you said in response. “I mean, look at her, she is objectively a 10 - don’t say you wouldn’t. Hell, I would if I were inclined that way… Don’t!” You pinned Jake with a warning stare, cutting off the joke that was on the tip of his tongue and dying to come out.

“Well, I wouldn’t now,” he said instead.

“Gee, thanks.”

“For the sake of our friendship.”

The word made you tense up again - not on purpose, it was an automatic reaction you wanted to take back as soon as you went stiff all over again. And it didn't escape Jake’s notice.

“What?” he questioned, cupping your shoulders and shaking you a little as a gag. “Oh my God, have you ever thought about taking up yoga? Meditation?”

“Flying lessons?” you shot back.

“Hey, don’t knock it. Compared to you, I am a very chilled-out person.” You rolled your eyes, not wanting to admit that he was right. No matter what was going on inside Jake, he knew how to keep a calm exterior. You’d always admired that about him. With the exception of your dad, your family wasn't known for its cool under pressure. Even Mike could be a bit of a basket case. That’s why he and Julie worked so well together.

You sighed again, wondering if you’d ever find your own version of Christian or Julie, someone who fit with all of your wonky parts and made you feel, regardless of circumstance, that everything would turn out okay.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” You looked at Jake, startled by the remark and the heat rushing into your face. He was dead serious. The levity you saw in his eyes had nothing to do with his tone, which was kind but not pitying. And you knew Jake would never say something like that if he didn’t mean it. “Not that it’s a competition,” he tacked on, “I’m just saying… don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure he’s eating his heart out right now.”

“And how would you know a thing like that?”

“Because he hasn’t stopped looking at us for the last sixty seconds.”

Your gaze drifted off to the side before Jake took your chin in his hand, his touch gentle and yet firm.

“Don’t look!” he chided. “Jesus… That’s recon 101 - I’ve got your six, you keep dancing and pretend we’re not talking about him, you amateur!”

“Sorry! You’re so bossy!” you grumbled, fighting off another blush.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

The word zinged through your body along with the killer Jake Seresin dimpled grin, and to make matters worse, he twirled you again, laughing when he brought you to rest your back against his chest. Josh froze when he saw you, spotting Jake’s hands on your waist. But you couldn’t care less - you were breathless, with Jake’s mouth close enough to kiss, reminding you of his knee nudge on the porch and his arm beneath your hand.

For a moment, you could almost believe that he was flirting with you for real. If you turned your head, would he accept the press of your mouth against his? Would he push you away or pull you in closer, regardless of your families watching and Josh staring, almost open-mouthed, like he couldn’t believe Jake fucking Seresin would give you the time of day?

Before you could make a choice, the song ended and Jake released you from his grip, keeping a hand on your back as he herded you away from the dance floor and to the bar, where he ordered a beer and asked if you wanted something. If you answered, you weren’t aware. You felt not in control, your stomach all in knots and the memory of Jake’s touch seared into your skin. A part of you still wanted desperately to kiss him and the other wanted to rush into the B&B and burst into tears from sheer confusion. Meanwhile, Jake seemed perfectly fine, chatting with the bartender on duty and leaning against the counter as he dropped a few bills into the tip jar.

“What are you doing?” you asked when you felt him touching you on the shoulder.

“Pretending you have lint on your dress.”

“Hey! On the dance floor was one thing, but I am not aiming to make this entire weekend about making my ex jealous. Any high school dude-vendetta you have against Josh should be addressed on your own time, you psycho. Besides, he’s never going to actually buy it.”

“Alright.” Jake threw up his hands, lowering the charm down a few watts. Your drinks were set down on a pair of square cocktail napkins and you took up yours, a fizzy gin thing with lemon that made you wonder whether you shouldn’t have stuck with bourbon to avoid going around with a hangover on Amanda’s wedding day.

Jake went on. “But I’m really not liking all this negative self-talk, you know. Mia might be a 10, but at most he’s, like, a 6…”

“Oh, be quiet!”

“You’re an 8.”

“What?” The alcohol either rushed up to your head or evaporated completely. How the hell did Jake manage to say things that left you completely dumbfounded and without a single intelligent thought in your head? And he did it with a smile! This one was purposefully subdued as he waved around with the beer in his hand as if making a profound point.

“You’re way out of his league. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed?”

“Okay, well…”

“You’re blushing!” he remarked. “That’s adorable.”

“You’re not funny, Seresin.”

“Hey, I joke about a lot of things, but I don’t go around handing 8s to just anyone.”

“Oh, look, they’re bringing out coffee.” The needle was tipping firmly towards the need to escape, though it wasn’t that serious - you knew it wasn’t; Jake had a tendency to be a flirt and he usually didn’t mean anything by it. Sometimes, it could even be amusing to play along, to get swept up in his wit and the light of his attention. But you didn’t want to play. And you didn’t want to seem ungrateful for his company because you weren’t. You loved every precious second you got to spend with him, knowing he’d be off to California soon and that the next time you might see him could be months or even a year from now.

Getting your hopes up would be a mistake, and you were dangerously close to doing it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He touched your elbow gently. You wished he couldn’t read you so well. Or that he could read you better, and see what you had been trying to say to him for years but were too scared to utter.

You did your best to smile. “Nothing’s wrong. You don’t have to hover all night. Go, take a load off, have fun.”

“I am having fun,” he said, frowning. “Aren’t you?”

“I was. I am,” you corrected, frustrated with yourself for not taking it better. For not being cool and together and the sort of girl who took charge and damned the outcome. She would’ve kissed Jake when she had the chance. She would have shown up to California. Hell, she would’ve made her move ages ago instead of pining, pathetically, and letting twenty years go by.

That’s what Mia had done. And that’s why she had her dream guy - your former guy - while you were exactly in the same position, too tongue-tied to take a shot.

“Just… can you give me some space?” you blurted out, your frustration bleeding through.

The hurt in Jake’s expression was there and gone in a lightning flash, but you’d seen it and you felt terrible about it. Before you could say anything to make it better, he’d replaced it with a devil-may-care smile.

“Got it,” he said, his voice a little tight around the edges. “Well… I’ll make myself scarce. Holler if you need me.”

With that, he took his beer and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to weave your way through oblivious partygoers to find the nearest ladies’ room, where you locked yourself in a stall and tried not to ruin your makeup with the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Hindsight was a bitch. The next morning you were sure you’d overreacted, made a fool of yourself and created a potentially awkward situation now that the wedding day was upon you and you had to take his arm, in - you glanced at the digital clock on your nightstand - five-and-a-half hours, and walk with him down the aisle wearing a smile for the sake of the photographers.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands and calling yourself every name in the book.

Jake had promised to be your wedding buddy and then sweetly kept his word, and what did you do in response? Completely freak out, you scatterbrained nincompoop.

As penance, you threw yourself into the arrangement of the reception flowers, channeling your mother while you directed the staff this way and that, trying not to think about Jake and the mortifying apology that awaited you. It was the right thing to do - not only to clear the air but because he hadn't deserved being chewed out in a momentary panic, and you knew you wouldn't feel right with yourself if you didn't take the blame and say your mea culpa.

But boy were you dreading it.

“You should head out now, Cabbage,” your mom advised around eleven o'clock. “Dad and I can handle the rest and you should be with Amanda, spend some time with the girls before the big event.”

“Are you sure you don't need help with the aisle arrangements?” A cowardly attempt, but you did it anyway.

“We’ve got it,” Mom repeated, turning you around and all but shepherding you into the parking lot. She waved you off with a “have fun,” and you couldn't help your brain’s internal response of “fat chance.”

All the way to the B&B you kept rehearsing what you might say to Jake when you saw him, but by the time you pulled up and found a free parking space, you were sweating, physically and metaphorically, and thinking that, maybe, if you listened to TED Talks rather than Dateline, you might have an enlightened response to your current dilemma.

You fetched your bagged bridesmaid's dress from the trunk of the car, along with your makeup bag and hair tools. You’d have to use the shower before you started getting ready, but you were looking forward to get-ready champagne and a throwback playlist. Anything to feel more like your normal self and less like a silly teenager who couldn’t talk to boys.

You went up three flights of stairs to reach the bridal suite. From both sides, you could hear music spilling out into the hall, an ABBA classic clashing with Brett Young. Automatically, you placed your hand on the doorknob leading towards bouncy 80s pop only for it to turn and spring open, revealing Jake with an undone bow tie hanging around his neck.

It could be that your mouth sprung open, not expecting to see him that abruptly and without giving yourself your planned thirty-second pep talk.

Your mind went blank. All you could do was stare at him like an idiot as he pointed across the hall and said, “Bridal suite’s that way.”

“Yeah, it was…”

“The Super Trouper? Groom’s choice.”

“Are you sure it wasn't yours?” The joke spilled out of your mouth, landing awkwardly to your own ears. But Jake smiled anyway, glancing down as he let the door close behind him.

He rubbed the side of his freshly shaved cheek. “I’m headed down to the front desk, by the way. I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You deserved that. So instead of cringing down into the floor - which was what you really wanted to do - you took the hit and said, “I didn’t think you were.”

“About last night…”

“I’m sorry for flying off the handle. I’m just… a little stressed,” you cut him off. It was an understatement, and not totally honest, but it was the best you could do without getting into the embarrassing particulars.

From the groomsmen’s side, Britney Spears followed ABBA, singing, “Oops, I did it again,” which seemed perversely apropos and just another reminder that you were a puppet of fate. Presently, you had to be paying for God knows what sin - probably calling Mike a buttface all those years before.

“Hey, I get it. I wasn’t trying to be clingy,” Jake went on.

“You’re not! You’re a good friend… Thank you.”

It pained you to say it, but you figured now was as good a time as any to face facts: you only had a few more days together, and you didn't want to spend them all wasting what you had, wishing it would turn into something else. Friendship with Jake was good enough. He was kind and loyal and honest; hell, anyone would be lucky to have him in their corner.

Maybe what you needed was a little gratitude. It was a wedding day, after all. Your friends and family would all be gathering in a few hours to celebrate Christian and Amanda and they had chosen you to be a special part of their most important day. How cool was that?

“Can we just not talk about Mia and Josh today?” you asked, hefting the garment back up your shoulder. “I want to focus on Amanda and make sure she has a nice time at her wedding - get drunk but not sloppily so, take a few pictures, dance a bit, not feel like everyone’s waiting for the Jerry Springer shoe to drop?”

“We can do that,” Jake replied.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“See you on the other side?”

“You bet.”

He went down the hall, turning right and bounding the carpeted stairs. You watched him go with a sigh, deciding that it was hard to be a grown-up and lovelorn at the same time. The two things were so incompatible - liking someone, loving them even, felt utterly undignified.

Nonetheless, you could breathe a lot easier after clearing the air. With the apology out of the way, you threw yourself into full bridesmaid mode, squeezing into the cramped bathroom with five other women in customized robes who were curling, straightening, powdering, talking, fighting for counter space, gasping at gossip, and being an overall flurry of chaos while the bride reigned over all, putting in comments through the haze of hair- and setting spray.

The air in the room was joyous, with a smattering of nervous energy mostly provided by Amanda.

Once dressed in your different styles of champagne satin, the bridesmaids focused on making sure Amanda was ready for her starring role. You took turns doing up the buttons on the back of her wedding gown, and when Dinah popped in to give her a pair of diamond earrings she wore to her own wedding, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. “Do not let my mascara run!” Amanda urged, prompting Carrie, the maid of honor, to jokingly rush forward with a folded-up Kleenex and dab at her eyes.

The groomsmen left for the wedding venue first, piling into a shuttle after yelling well-wishes through the door. Fifteen minutes later you followed suit, with Ali O’Rourke pouring canned cocktails into plastic cups and filming the journey at the same time as her phone blasted Taylor Swift (“But none of the breakup songs!”). In twenty minutes you were at the botanical garden, arranging the first look through a comical series of shouts and mimes partially obscured by a tall bush and caught on camera by the couple’s videographer. Once Christian had gotten the memo to stand there, at the edge of an ornamental pond but with his back to the azaleas, you pushed Amanda in his direction and waved her on, giving whistles and catcalls when he dipped her into a kiss that was very un-Christian-like and all the more romantic for that reason.

Once the wedding party photos were done, it was time to head inside and wait for the guests to arrive. You found that, like Amanda, you were feeling a little jittery now that patience was all that was required. From the double doors to the altar, it was a fairly long walk and you were worried that your heels would sink into the grass or that you would fall flat on your face. Luckily, you weren’t the only one with that fear. Amanda’s coworker, Lucy, who had never been a bridesmaid before, had a minor freakout, and talking her down helped you allay your own fears, as did the liquid courage courtesy of Ali’s dress having pockets.

(Amanda: “I don’t remember reading that on the website.”

Ali: “That’s because you didn’t. I had it tailored.”)

At last, the wedding coordinator called for everyone to take their places and Jake came towards you, looking smart in his tux. At the rehearsal dinner you’d heard Mike asking, “So, where’s the dress uniform?”, to which Jake replied, “And upstage you?” Well, uniform or not, you were sure he could upstage anyone. To you, he was the handsomest person in the room, and you were in danger of saying so until Jake beat you to the punch.

“Look at you, you clean up well!” he remarked.

“And you look terrible.”

“Now I know that’s a bald-faced lie.”

You laughed. Humble as always. You were glad to see that all the awkwardness between you had gone, in no small part because of the excitement over the ceremony. A sudden hush came over everyone as Harriet signaled for the doors to be opened. Jake held out his arm. “Shall we?” he said, echoing his words when he asked you to dance.

This time you were ready for it. No matter what, in this particular moment, you and Jake were allies - wedding buddies, he said - and instead of overthinking things or making a mountain out of a molehill, you were resolved to enjoy it.

You took his arm and faced forward. The first strains of music began. Showtime, Harriet mouthed, while at the altar Christian turned to meet his bride.

The ceremony was over in the blink of an eye, followed by a drinks reception and a sit-down dinner punctuated by toasts that ranged from the humorous to the downright sentimental. Now that Amanda had clipped up her train, she seemed more relaxed than she had been in the morning, and it made you feel like you could let down your hair, so to speak, and enjoy the party underneath the light-strewn tent.

The guests were eager to dance. Without letup they moved through classic wedding standards and modern dance hits to country reels and the obligatory playing of “Mr. Brightside,” a moment which Sandy and Clyde stole with their enthusiastic head-bops. You couldn't remember the last time you danced, or laughed, half as much, and even the appearance of Josh and Mia couldn’t steal your good mood. As long as they kept to their side of the tent, you could pretend they weren't there and if Mom or Julie sidled up with a comment in defense of your honor, it was easy to point a finger to your ear as if to say, “What? I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud!”

Jake kept close for the most of the night, leaning in close and making funny comments about the hidden goings-on - who was putting the moves on who, who was sneaking mini cupcakes into their purse, who got carted off to the indoor area after over-imbibing and nearly causing a minor dancefloor traffic incident.

Maybe it was all his Navy training, but for a guy’s guy Jake had an uncanny eye for gossip, and you said so, winning a laugh and another request for your oath of secrecy.

“I hate to tap out before Great-Aunt Sandy,” he said halfway through the Jailhouse Rock, “but do you want to take a breather? I feel like I’m getting a stitch in my side.”

“You? Sheesh, Hangman, you're really letting yourself go,” you chaffed. “What'll the higher-ups think when you get back to San Diego?”

“Well, if they really want to replace me, I’ll send them Aunt Sandy’s way.” He led you outside, where you promptly balanced one foot at a time trying to unclasp your heeled sandals while Jake watched, snorting before he took pity on you and let you lean on his arm.

His very muscled arm…

Inwardly, you sighed like one of the Bimbettes from Beauty and the Beast, but hey, you’d behaved yourself all day; you were allowed to have the occasional impure thought.

With a little sound of triumph, you managed to remove your shoes and held them by the straps, walking on the grass in your bare feet. You had a pair of flats in your purse, but that was somewhere inside and, anyway, the ground felt good against your tired arches. You’d been dancing for over two hours and needed the break.

“How do you even stand in those death traps?” Jake eyed your shoes as if they were hand grenades, which amused you to no end seeing as they’d cost you a small fortune precisely because they claimed to be comfortable.

“They’re not so bad,” you replied. “Besides, I wouldn’t need them if you weren’t so tall.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You shrugged, keeping your face deliberately blank. “It’s a free country.”

“Wow…” Jake huffed through a laugh, “you are incapable of just being nice to me.”

“What, I am nice!”

“In a backhanded-compliment sort of way, sure.”

“What do you want me to say? ‘Jake, you’re the biggest 10 at the wedding’?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but we’re getting warmer,” he said with a toothy grin, entering a path bordered by low hedges leading to the pond where the first look had taken place.

The lights from the wedding reception lit the way, along with the small solar-powered fixtures planted in the ground, but for the most part the darkness was a respite from the sights and sounds of the packed tent. In a way, it made it easier to talk to Jake, ignoring your history, feeling like a girl who’d been asked on a walk by someone who wanted to spend more time with her.

You laughed, leaning into the role of interested flatterer. You were walking backwards, even daring to place your hand on the front of Jake’s shirt, trusting him to lead the way and keep you from tripping into a bush. “You’re an incredible dancer,” you put in, going full Bimbette. You might have batted your eyelashes, and your voice took on the dreamy girlishness of Marilyn Monroe, which only gave Jake the giggles as he tried to maintain his yes, I am all the things composure. “You look as good in a tux as you do in your Navy uniform.”

“Both true.”

“You’re funny and smart, and soooo interesting.”

“Don’t I know it.”

You gasped, stopping in your tracks to place your hands on his cheeks. Jake was smiling from ear to ear, struggling to keep his lips pressed together. “You’ve got a face like an Old Hollywood dreamboat.”

He nodded solemnly, the slight clearing of his throat the only indicator that he was on the verge of breaking character. “You’re not the first person to say that, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm, does that surprise you? Do you disagree?”

“Of course not, this is the Jake Seresin Appreciation Hour.” You draped your arms around his neck. Maybe it was the cocktails or the distant wedding music making you bold, but Jake didn't pull away and you were only pretending - at least, that was your justification when you felt the weight of his hands on your hips.

“Go on, then.”

“Your eyes are green.”

“Now you’re just stating facts.”

“Fine, but you’re being a very picky subject!”

“I’ll have you know,” he scoffed, “Jake Seresin Hour was not my idea. You don’t get to institute it and then complain when I point out your lazy reporting.”

Lazy reporting? You were ready to duke it out over that and he knew it, his eyes alight with the challenge, head cocked to see what you’d come up with next. Your back hit the trunk of a live oak and you felt the adrenaline in your veins mixing with the alcohol and a sheer attraction that wouldn't be kept at bay. You wondered briefly whether this was what flying was like - a full-bodied, present physicality, all instinct, every move stretched taut and your nerves like live wires.

Jake glanced at your mouth and it left you breathless. Little wonder, then, that the next words out of your mouth were half confession, half part of the game.

“There’s not a single person at this party who isn’t head-over-heels in love with you.”

“Not a single one?” Jake argued. “Not even the groom?”

“Not even the groom.”

“Well, obviously, we’re not including my relatives in that.”

“But everyone else…” you trailed off.

“Everyone else. Including you?”

“Especially me.”

It’s just a game, it’s just a game. The thought kept clashing in your head with the urge to say “kiss me” and he was standing so close, with his body half pressed against yours, solid and warm, realer than any lust-fueled fantasy you could’ve come up with in the dead of night, the party forgotten with him as your only view, and you kept thinking, Maybe he wants me to. Maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe I should do it - what would be the harm?

The answer to this final point was obvious, and yet he was hard to resist. His fingers brushed against your waist, the touch feather-light enough that it might have been in your imagination except for his forehead pressed down to yours, his heart beating steadily beneath your nervous hand.

Without debating it further you pulled him into a kiss, shutting your eyes against any possible consequences as you memorized the taste of his mouth, the weight of his hands sliding down your back, the heat of his breath. You pulled away, mortified by your lapse in judgment and the obvious proof of feelings which you now couldn't take back.

There was no undoing this, but still you tried.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I’m… I’m drunk… I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I’m… I’m gonna go.” You slid past him, holding your breath, willing him not to follow after you or try to stop you from fleeing. Your body felt like it was short-circuiting, blazing with need and then doused in icy-cold regret and horror at your own actions.

So he had flirted with you. That didn't mean he wanted to kiss you; it certainly didn't signal any romantic interest that merited you throwing yourself at him and telling him, of all things, that you loved him!

You went back to the party, picking your purse up from behind your chair and forcing a smile when people stopped you to chat, making excuses and saying you had to go to the bathroom. Inside, you moved past the lobby and straight out to the drive, where the hired shuttle service was taking guests in no state to drive to and from a few local hotels.

The driver asked if you were ready to leave and you said yes, feeling mildly guilty for staging an Irish goodbye, but there was no way you could go on pretending for the rest of the night, let alone face Jake. You prayed that everyone would be too busy having fun to notice your absence, and if not you would apologize profusely tomorrow at brunch, claiming a headache or exhaustion or anything else that might obscure your bad decision-making and propensity to lose your shit around Jake.

You were let onto the bus, the sole passenger as the driver turned on the engine and radioed his boss to say he was en route to the B&B. Just as you were relaxing into your seat, Jake came bounding up the steps, giving the driver a cursory nod just before the doors closed behind him and the vehicle began to move.

“Can we talk?” he asked, sliding next to you and dropping his jacket in his lap.

“There are, like, fifty open seats.”

“But you’re sitting in this one,” he said with the ghost of a grin. You would've rolled your eyes if you weren’t busy wishing you could teleport to literally anywhere else.

You faced forward to the other cars on the road, watching their taillights shine as you moved into nighttime traffic. “Can you do me a favor? I know you’ve done a lot of them over the past couple of days, but can you just forget that ever happened?”

“No.”

Aghast, you turned your head to see Jake looking maddeningly smug, not to mention relaxed, while he was invading your personal space and driving you to the brink of mental collapse.

“Why not?” you demanded.

“Why not? Because I don’t want to.”

“And is what I want—”

“Completely irrelevant,” he finished for you. “Besides, you kissed me, remember?”

“I don’t. I’ve wiped it from my memory chip.”

With a smile, Jake leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips that was almost chaste, except for the brush of his tongue against your lip and his fingers cupping your chin in a hold that was teasing and gentle, and undeniably thought-out.

“How about that one?” he asked, pulling away just enough to view your reaction.

“How about what?”

He grinned. “Cabbage.”

“Ew! Why would you call me that right now?” you exclaimed, scooching back into the window.

“Because you’re adorable. Beautiful.”

“Like a leafy green?”

“Yeah, like a whole salad.”

You laughed. “That makes no sense.”

“It really doesn’t.” But it did. Like so many other inside jokes, you knew exactly what he meant to say. It made you feel all warm inside, especially because there was no trace of subterfuge in his handsome face, and you knew he’d never be cruel enough to lead you on. He followed you, he thought you were beautiful, and he was here trying to convince you not to take the kiss back.

To be bold. To follow through.

“If you want to keep being friends…” he began.

“You and Mike are just friends, Jake. I’m the kid sister with a massively pathetic crush on you.”

“Maybe I have a crush on you too,” he said, looking you straight in the eyes. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little… A lot, actually.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

In front of Pleasant View the driver pulled on the brakes, and Jake laced his fingers through yours as he dismounted and put a twenty in the tip jar, stopping in front of the entrance to face you with a question hanging, unspoken, in the air. If you let this opportunity pass you by, he would let you do it without a word, taking the gentleman’s way out and stopping his pursuit under the assumption that you had no interest in being with him, or in seeing where this new thing between you might go. But if you said yes…

The possibilities flashed through your mind, as frightening as they were wonderful. Everything might change. Everything would, there was no doubt about that. But change wasn’t always a bad thing, and if you had someone holding your hand along the way?

Wasn’t that what love was all about?

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Jake pointed out.

“Is that an issue?”

“Why, is it an issue for you?”

You shook your head, trying to contain the nervous joy in your chest. “Maybe you should take me flying sometime, teach me the ways of classic Hangman chill.”

“Just name the time and place,” he promised. “I’m ready when you are.”

Instead of second guessing, you took him at his word.

You reached up and kissed him fully on the mouth, sighing when he pressed you flush against his chest and carressed the nape of your neck. There was no predicting the future; that part would always be like navigating blind. But Jake was worth the risk. If nothing else, he was the sort of man who made you want to try, who took chances, and made you laugh through the terror of uncertainty.

In that moment, being lifted off the ground, physically swept off your feet by the man you’d loved since you’d first contemplated what love could be, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. And the best part? From the look on Jake’s face, you knew the exact thought running through his head:

Babe, the luck is all mine.

Man, you loved weddings.

#rosie.fic #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #tgm fic #tgm x reader #top gun maverick x reader #glen powell x reader

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aldryrththerainbowheart · 8 months ago

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I just know that Jason desperately craves love and affection but is completely befuddled every time he receives it.

The first time you hug him he freezes with his arms raised a few inches from you, unsure what to do. When was the last time someone touched him in a nonviolent way? He can't remember. He just stands there as you press against him even more, nuzzling your face to his chest. You show no signs of letting go, so he has no choice but to slowly wrap his arms around you. This is...nice. He realizes as he curls his frame around you even more, inhaling the scent in your hair. Anytime he wants cuddles, he very subtly stands or sits very close to you waiting for you to get the hint. And when you do, he's very hesitant to let you go. Good luck trying to wrestle out of his arms.

He's still getting used to all the praise from you. Every time you tell him how strong he is, how smart, or how handsome he is, he tries to brush it off with some cool oneliner, but his voice is audibly cracking and getting redder by the second underneath that mask. I feel like it's usually Dick who's considered the charmer, the guy who has girls fawning over him. Jason's the scary one. But to you, Jay is not scary at all. He's the most handsome thing you ever laid eyes on, and you make sure he knows that. And after some time, Jason goes out of his way to impress you and get even more praise from you. Flashy moves during combat, dangerous stunts on his bike, and witty comments. All that just so he can bask in your admiration. He visibly puffs up every time you do and there's spring in his step for days to come.

You're not just a fan of Jason Todd, but Red Hood as well. He's your favorite vigilante. Who needs a hero? They're boring anyways. The first time you visit Jason's apartment and see the red mask sitting on the shelf, you have a moment of embarrassing fangirling. You beg Jason if you can touch it, holding it as if it was some holy relic. Jay thinks you're so adorable when you're gushing about every Red Hood prop you find in his place. It's not every day someone admires and not fears the Red Hood. You even go out of your way to make Red Hood merch for yourself, since there are none on the market. When Jay comes from patrol and sees you clutching the bean plushie version of him his heart melts to a puddle.

#jason todd fanfic #jason todd red hood #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #the red hood #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n

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thelostconsultant · 3 months ago

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Coffee addict

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: The coffee machine dies late at night. Max (and Daniel) comes to your rescue.

“No, please, don’t do this to me.”

Max looked up when he heard your voice from the kitchen, and as he moved there to see what was happening, he heard your quiet pleads for something to start working. He couldn’t remember ever hearing you sound like this, so defeated and sad, and it made him wonder what was happening. And when his eyes fell on you as you wept next to the coffee machine, he had a bad feeling that it was related to your favorite item in that kitchen.

Before he could ask you, though, you noticed him and immediately rushed over to where he was standing to wrap your arms around him, seeking comfort by burying your face into his chest. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked while his hand rubbed your back.

“It doesn’t work. The screen went dark and I can’t make it work again. I tried everything,” you sobbed.

Now, here’s the issue. You loved coffee. You were addicted to it. While he chose to drink a Red Bull to stay awake, you made yourself a nice, steaming cup of espresso from your favorite type of coffee beans several times a day. It wasn’t healthy, he knew that, but you were so happy as you sipped your favorite drink that he didn’t have the heart to stop you. Sometimes he managed to convince you to cheat, to drink a decaf coffee, and on days like this, you stuck to normal coffee in the morning and in the evening.

He gently peeled you off of himself to take a look at the machine, but no matter what button he pressed, it didn’t do anything. With a sigh, he looked over at you. “I’m sorry for your loss.” You nodded as you wiped your tears with the sleeve of your hoodie. “Okay, it’s late, I’m sure I won’t reach a store to buy a new one, but how about going to that coffee shop around the corner? They must be open.”

You glance down at your phone that lies on the kitchen counter. “No, they closed half an hour ago,” you reply sadly.

“Oh.” Max thought for a second, then raised a finger with a wide smile. “I have an idea. You stay here, I’ll be right back,” he said quickly before pressing a soft kiss on her lips.

Once he’s sitting in his car with the engine running, he presses a few buttons on the touch screen to start a call. It rings a few times, then a familiar voice cheerfully greets him. “What do I owe the pleasure of getting a phone call so late?” he asked with a laugh.

“Daniel, I need your coffee machine, I’m on my way to your place,” he states without hesitation.

“My coffee machine? You know I use that, right?”

“Not that one, the backup you kept after switching to the newer model. It’s an emergency, I’ll return it tomorrow once I buy a new one. Please?” he tried. There was a long sigh on the other end of the line, and this made him worry. “What is it?”

“I gave it away since then,” he replied. Max cursed under his breath, fighting the overwhelming need to hit the steering wheel. This was the best idea he had, and even this didn’t work out as planned. His friend let out a thoughtful hum that broke the silence, making him listen once again. “I have a big thermo mug, though. I can fill that for you,” he offered.

Thanking both the universe and Daniel that there was a solution to the problem, he managed to calm down by the time he parked the car in front of the building the Aussie lived in. When he entered his apartment, he was welcomed with a sympathetic look. “The love of your life is suffering from withdrawal symptoms?” he asked, a barely noticeable smile visible on his lips.

Nodding, Max followed him to the kitchen, then leaned against a counter with his arms folded over his chest. “She’s quite literally grieving right now. She was crying when it didn’t turn on,” he explained.

Daniel poured each cup into the mug, but he listened to the story of the broken machine, sometimes coming up with suggestions. He even questioned if it was even plugged in, an idea that made the Dutchman groan. “Yes, I did check if it was plugged in. It was, yet it doesn’t work. I’ll go and buy a new one tomorrow, and I’m genuinely thinking about buying a simpler backup machine.”

Fifteen minutes later he entered his apartment, calling out for you immediately. You padded over to him with a questioning look, and when your eyes fell on the mug, your gaze full of hope and happiness moved over to his face. He nodded with a smile and handed it to you, but you chose to hug him instead.

“You’re my hero. I love you so much,” you mumbled into his chest.

He kissed your head, then moved back to once again offer you the mug. “I love you too. Now, drink before it turns cold. And tomorrow morning I’ll go to that coffee shop to get you a cup, okay?”

As you took the precious item from him, you let out a thoughtful hum. “We could have breakfast there,” you suggested.

“Anything you want. Now, I’m getting into the sim rig for that race. Don’t stay up too late,” he warned you kindly before giving you another kiss.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo

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satorusugurugurl · 9 months ago

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JJK Men: Seeing You Without Makeup For the First Time

Warning: Fluffy sweetness, insecurities, suggestiveness, language

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Choso Kamo, Modern!Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento

Word Count: 2,993

A/N: Ah yes, I love this trope. It was fun to write!! Please Enjoy, don't blame me from any cavities from this sweet fluff. Request Open.

Gojo Satoru:

The smell of freshly brewed coffee was the only thing keeping your eyes open. You grumbled and cursed the sun for rising another day as you leaned over the kitchen counter, watching the magic bean juice filling your cup. The higher-ups must not like you because the mission they just sent you on was hell.

A week, a damn week, you were gone. A week from your bed, students, and your boyfriend. Stupid old men and their dumb missions. But who were you to complain if you paid your bills and you were able to teach the next generation of sorcerers? So life wasn't that bad.

Then again, your somewhat happy outlook on life might be the sleep deprivation talking.

The bastards were sweet enough to give you one day to recuperate. There was no time to relax, though. You had laundry to sort through, groceries to pick up, and the normal mundane things you'd missed out on during the WEEK you were gone!

A day off was a day off despite it being a busy one. You would get it all done after you drank this coffee Satoru got you from Mexico on his last mission. As soon as you downed it, you would off. You were already dressed to go. You had on sweats and a t-shirt, and you opted out of putting on any makeup, seeing that you would just be running around.

Your phone chimed as Satoru’s name popped up on your screen. You smiled as you opened the chat.

Satoru: Good morning, beautiful! 😙 Welcome back! I had breakfast delivered to you; enjoy! 🍳🥓🧇

“Oh, he's getting laid later.” You squealed, running for the door to your apartment.

You flung it open, staring at the ground, expecting a bag, but instead, you were greeted by shoes. Designer shoes that you knew all too well. Slowly trailing up dark uniform pants and jacket that was from the same school you worked at. Further up, you caught sight of a wide grin, a blindfold, and fluffy white hair. All of which belongs to your boyfriend, who was holding a takeout bag.

“Special delivery for Y/L/N Y/N!”

Your boyfriend was here. The same boyfriend who was utterly gorgeous no matter what condition he was in. The man could be caked in blood, and you still wanted to kiss him. Then there was you; you always put in the effort to look nice around him, hair styled, cute outfit, some form of makeup always on.

Today was not one of those days.

In a panic, you squeaked, slamming the door in his face. “What the fuck?! What the actual fuck!?” You glanced around for anything you could use to hide your appearance. You panicked and grabbed the first thing off the couch.

“Uhm, babe?” Satoru questioned, opening the door. “I know you were gone for a week. But I'm Gojo Satoru, your boyfriend.”

“I know!! Sorry, I wasn't expecting to see you!” you had your back turned to him, covering your face with your hands. “T-Thanks for the food! But I have so much to do!”

“Really?”

“Yep! Laundry!”

“I had Ijichi pick it up this morning.”

Fuuuuck.

“O-Okay! I have to get groceries!”

“Your fridge is fully stocked, courtesy of yours truly.”

The room felt like it was shrinking in on you as you listened to him come up behind you. The bag was discarded as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You weren't sure how he would react, seeing your bare face, and that was terrifying.

So many men thought women wearing makeup was like lying. You had always done very light and minimal makeup, but it didn't make it less scary. Sensing the tension, Satoru gently turned you around so you were facing him. He stiffened, his mouth turning from a grin to a shocked expression.

“Y/N?” His voice was so quiet.

“Y-Yeah?”

A choked laugh erupted from his throat. “I-Is that one of my blindfolded?!” He called as you stated at the darkness his blindfold provided. “Oh my god, hold on! Hold on!” You could feel him near you with the camera on his phone clicking. “Oh my god, wait until the second years see this!” Fingers hooked under the blindfold, yanking it up and off your head.

Your hands flew up, hiding your face. Your attempt was foiled as Satoru's gentle hands pulled them away. With a shuddering sigh, you looked up at him, biting your cheek as he fully saw you. For you, no makeup, fancy clothes, or styled hair.

Satoru just smiled, leaning down before he kissed your lips gently. “Welcome home.” He pulled back, tilting his head to the side. “What was with the off-brand cosplay?” Your cheeks are flushed, the darker pigment visible without any trace of makeup.

“I-I don't have any makeup on.”

“Oh!” He straightened, his large hand patting your head. “You're so cute.”

His grin grew wider at the confused expression inching its way over your face. “Seriously? Do you think that? Even without the makeup and the baggy clothes? You still think I'm cute?” Satoru’s head bobbed up and down so fast you thought his head would fall out. His sincere reaction made you giggle, shaking your head. “Satoru, you are so strange. But also extremely sweet.” When you looked up, you blinked, seeing Gojo holding up one side of his blindfold. His bright blue eye looked you over, inching over every curve and surface of you. “Satoru, stop staring.”

“I just was confirming something.” he snapped his blindfold back into place before draping an arm over you.

You poured yourself a cup of coffee while Satoru pulled your breakfast out of the bag. “Confirming what?”

“Just confirming with Six-Eyes that I have the prettiest girlfriend in the entire world.”

Gojo’s smile slowly faded as you slammed the coffee pot down. Oh fuck, what did he say?! You led around; fire swarmed in Y/E/C eyes as you stormed over to him, grabbing his wrist.

“W-What?! What did I say?” He huffed out a gasp as you shoved him onto the couch.

“Everything.”

You unzipped his pants, and Gojo’s eyes were wide behind his blindfold. Even with Six-Eyes, Gojo did not see this coming. Spoiler alert: It was him, he was going to cum.

Choso Kamo:

A knock at your door had you straightening from your spot on the couch. Looking at your phone, you quickly got up. It was well past midnight, and it was never a good sign when someone knocked that late at night on the door.

Much to your relief, when you opened the door to your apartment, your boyfriend looked down at you. “Choso?” a sigh of relief escaped your lips.

“I'm sorry. Did I wake you?” he asked before entering your apartment.

“No, I think you just saved me a stiff neck.” You yawned out before locking the door. “Did you and Yuuji finish up with that mission?”

“Yes, he went back home; I wanted to see you.”

Choso watched as you moved around the apartment. You straightened up the pillows on the couch and wiped down your kitchen before grabbing his hand and leading him to the bedroom. The entire time you went about your mundane tasks, Choso just stared. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was different about you.

Choso’s eyes moved over you. Trying to depict what was different tonight. Haircut? No. New pajamas? No, that wasn't it, either. Everything Choso tried to think of wasn't the right answer. Not knowing what it was frustrated him to the point that Choso’s eyebrow twitched.

What had you glowing in the lowlights of your bedroom as you pulled the sheets back? “Cho?” You finally asked with a nervous chuckle. “Are you okay? You're staring holes through me.” Realizing that he had been caught, Choso flinched.

“I'm sorry, sorry I just—” Words trailed off as his cheeks flushed.

You had noticed Choso staring at you since he came inside. The poor guy never saw you without makeup, which was probably strange. He seemed to be struggling, trying to find the words to the mountain of questions he might have.

“It's okay. I think I know what you're going to ask.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you’re going to ask what’s different.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I look different because I’m not wearing makeup.”

Choso tilted his head to the side.”Oh, no, I was going to say you look radiant tonight.” The words that left his mouth had both of you standing in silence.

You just eyed Choso as he smiled, nodding his head like he'd figured out the mystery of what was different. Pleased with his conclusion, he helped you pull the sheets back. His hands smoothed out the covers before he peered up at you. You were blushing, smiling ear to ear as you finished pulling the bed back.

“I just finished doing my skincare routine,” you announced as you crawled into bed after Choso showered. “I have a new serum that is supposed to make you look luminescent.”

Choso studied you carefully as he crawled into bed with you. “Mmm, maybe that’s it.” He pulled you into his arms. “Or maybe it’s just me.” Choso hummed, staring into the face that he loved so much. “Falling in love.” Love?! “Yeah, I think that’s exactly what this is.”

That was the reasoning behind your radiant glow. A glow that always surrounded you no matter what you wore or looked like. Choso saw utter perfection in you. So it only made sense that the reason you looked extra stunning was that he had fallen in love with you even more.

You just snuggled closer into his chest, grinning wide as he yawned. “I love you too, Cho.”

Ryomen Sukuna:

Ten minutes. All it took was ten minutes before chaos erupted in Sukuna’s apartment. He had just finished changing when he heard the commotion. Yuuji and Choso were bickering before you gently tried to break up the argument. The next thing he heard was a scream, your scream, to be exact.

He bolted, running into the kitchen, where he found you wiping at your face. “What the fuck?!” His younger brothers both stood in shock, watching you in fear. Yuuji was holding a box of baking soda, and Choso held a bottle of vinegar.

In the center of the kitchen was the volcano experiment you had been helping Yuuji make. Sukuna was able to put it all together in an instant. He didn't bother yelling. He instead lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

“What the hell happened?” You flinched when you felt a warm, wet rag gently cleaning your face off.

“The boys wanted to see how big of an explosion they could make. But you know the boys, they both were arguing about who should do what. Words were said, contents were thrown into a beaker, and I didn't have my safety goggles on.”

Sukuna sighed, continuing to rub off the mess on your face. “You're not hurt, are you?”

“Nope!” Your confident response had your boyfriend chuckling as he wiped more of the foamy goop off your face.

After about five minutes of wiping and rinsing the rag, Sukuna sat on the tub's edge, examining your face. It was without the small amount of makeup you had on and the lighting of the bathroom that he stared at you. You were stunning, gorgeous in everything. But here in the bathroom, his eyes mapped out your face.

“What happened here?” he asked, fingertips pressing against a small scar under your eye.

Thinking it was food coloring, you turned to the mirror, seeing your bare face. “EH?!” You touched it, groaning as you looked back at your boyfriend, who was smirking. “You wiped off all my makeup!” For a second, Sukuna thought he was dealing with a third child in his apartment.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want to have vinegar on your face?” You shook your head. “That's what I thought. So confess what happened there?”

“Acne scar.”

A soft him rumbled in his chest before he learned over, thumb grazing over a tiny scar at the bottom of your lip. “This?” gentle fingers moved up, brushing over your bottom lip as he stepped closer towards you.

“I-I fell off my bike.”

You swallowed hard, whimpering as Sukuna’s fingers grazed over your face. You were feeling how soft your delicate skin was. All of you mesmerized him. Every time you came over, he learned a little more about you. And god, he fuckin’ loved that.

His hands gently mapped your face out. The softness had you breathing heavily, his eyes glued to your lips. Having your boyfriend gaze over you with such a soft yet burning gaze had you shifting. The air in the bathroom became thick with need as he slowly slipped your tank top sleeve down.

“Y/N, let me see all of you. I want to map out your body and learn everything it has to say.”

“W-What’s gotten into you?”

The whisper tone of your voice had Sukuna sliding the other sleeve of your tank top down. “You. You’ve crept your way into my heart.” The confession that spilled from his lips has you leaning in, wanting him to touch you everywhere. The same way he had touched your face.

“Hey, is she okay?” Choso’s timid voice whispered through the door. “Yuuji’s worried.”

“Take Yuuji out for ice cream.” Your tank top is slowly pulled over your head. “My card is on my dresser.”

Silence spreads out as you tug Sukuna’s shirt up and off. “R-Really?” hands began working on jeans.

“Yes, I have my own project to work on.” Sukuna turned the shower on, and he never heard Choso collecting Yuuji so fast. Refusing to answer any questions as the door to the apartment slammed shut.

Sukuna’s antics had you giggling, licking your lip, and he stripped you completely. “A project, huh?” he nodded, following you into the shower.

“Yeah, but it won't be vinegar foam that covers that pretty face this time.”

Nanami Kento:

The hotel sheets were cold and crisp over your and your boyfriend's bodies. Between the chill and the heat Nanami was putting out, you felt so comfortable. It was the perfect combination that made you want to relish the feeling forever.

The sun was up, which meant you both would be going home soon. You both had been called out on a mission, one that took a bit longer to handle than you both were anticipating. You missed the last train back to Tokyo. Leaving you both stranded in Kawasaki for the night.

Instead of having one of the assistant supervisors drive all the way out to get you, you and Nanami decided to stay at a hotel. God, it was nice: room service, wine, a hot shower. Missing that last train was a reward for the two of you. Nothing more than relaxation and joy. But the moment Nanami pulled you tighter against him, you realized you didn't have your overnight bag.

Meaning you didn't have your makeup.

“Oh no, oh god no.” You whined as Nanami lifted his head.

“What’s wrong?” His groggy voice asked, trying to assess what was going on.

Burying your face in your pillow, you grumbled, cringing as you felt Nanami shift beside you. “I don't have my bag.” The covers move as Nanami props himself up.

“Your overnight bag?”

“Mhmm.”

Silence stretched out. “Did you need something out of it? Aspirin or tampons? I'll go grab you some.” The sincerity of his words made your heart soar. God, Nanami was the best boyfriend.

“No, no, I'm okay.” You shyly turned, swallowing hard. “I just realized you've never seen me without makeup.”

Nanami’s gaze was soft; honey-brown eyes slowly roamed over your face. He took his time, his hand reaching out, knuckles grazing your cheek. It was so gentle and sweet that you pressed yourself against his hand. The warmth spreads to every part of your body.

The bed shifts as Nanami’s hand cups your cheek, pulling you closer. “You are still as stunning in the morning bare-faced as you are all dolled up.” Before you could even think of what to say in response, his lips were on yours.

His lips were warm, like a spring day. You moaned happily, kissing him back as his hands slowly ran down your arms. Breaking the kiss, had you pouting with a displeased groan that shifted into a moan. Those warm lips slowly moved down your face. Nanami was trailing the softest, warmest kisses down your body, over your shoulders and upper arm.

“I want to see all of you.” Hot breath whispered over your skin. “See every part of you, body, mind, and soul in the raw.”

Soft kisses were replaced with gentle nips. The sensation had you arching your back as Nana crawled on top of you. His morning wood was pressing against your hip. It felt like you were melting into the mattress as the once-comfortable room suddenly became too warm. The need to get naked grew stronger and stronger.

“Kento~”

He didn't respond. He was too busy being love-drunk off of you. His fingers, lips, and teeth slowly mapped out every part of your body. Nanami’s actions left you a squirming mess underneath him. One that he was so pleased to see and feel.

Only once you were gasping for air, gripping his shirt, begging him for more, did Nanami finally pull back, taking his shirt off. “Every inch of you is the most beautiful thing that's graced this world, Y/N.” You sat up, pulling him into a starved kiss as he took your shorts off. Limbs entangling as he gently laid you down.

And yes, you missed the morning train. . .and the afternoon train. . .poor Ijichi had to pick you up.

2K notes · View notes

luv-gukkie · 8 months ago

Text

★ little, naive thing ★

pairing: yandere! jeon jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || yandere

summary: a small cuddle takes jungkook back down memory lane; a time where he could only admire your pretty-self from afar with a burning need to make you his, an idea your little boyfriend wasn’t so fond of.

word count: +4.8k

tags/warnings: cockwarming, boobie kisses, dom! jungkook, sub!reader, jungkook worships reader, he switches up real fast, size difference, smooches here and there, jungkook manhandles reader, he's possessive, degrading comments, public sex? (don't worry? no one catches them), jungkook gets into a fight, he hurts himself, manipulation, jk lies, talk about marriage ;), degrading comments, jungkook gets a tattoo of..., unprotected sex (don't be silly), reader was his first (for EVERYTHING), he's in love LOVE

notes: hope you enjoy it! i’ll try to post the small writing about yoongi soon :)

༻❤︎︎ ★ ★ ❤︎︎༺

"no, no, no, no!" jungkook yells with a small smile as his hands covered his face, acting as if he was sad. you sing out a little chant, sticking your tongue out at him. he can't help but hide his laugh at your taunts and the small dance you do behind his hands. you're so cute, jungkook thinks as he stares at you through the gap between his fingers. the playback of your pink character, cat peach, flashes through the television screen as it shows her first through the finish line seconds before tanooki mario, jungkook's character, crosses through it as well. he groans in pain, "i was so close." he can't believe how good you've gotten at mario kart 8. it's unbelievable how fast you've learned. "wanna know my secret?" you whisper softly as if there were people around you; even though both of you are alone in your shared apartment, with the only witnesses being bam, the big and strong doberman, and cinnabon, your cute, tiny bunny. the pair lay together (similar to jungkook and you) on bam's huge bed, cuddled into each other, hiding behind their floppy ears. with the same mischievous tone, jungkook whispers back, "i have to know." you smile before leaning in closer to his ear and before he knows it, he's backing away, tricked and played. jungkook covers his ear, recovering from your surprise shriek. you giggle at his reaction before going in to leave kisses on his face all around. "sorry", you giggle as he "tries" to get away from you, but it's impossible because you two sit together squished on a bean bag.

as he sees you laugh, memories with you flash through his mind. it takes him back to the start of his love to you; all the way in high school.

jungkook has never been social to begin with. he's always been a little timid and shy compared to others, but it didn't meant he couldn't experience the same things others his age were experiencing. puberty had hit him hard. jungkook had grown too fast over the heat of summer. his voice was no longer of a teenage boy, but one of a grown man. the change into manhood had girls confessing their admiration to him left and right, but he's never been too interested in starting a relationship in the first place. it's not until he landed his eyes onto dainty, little you.

jungkook remembers it was the first day of sophomore year, the summer had tanned him a bit from being a life guard at the public pool and he had grown his muscles. jungkook's eyes wandered around the new classroom, recognizing everyone's faces, but stammering at an almost unrecognizable face. the reddish lipgloss you wear shines on your plump lips, a slight blush on your cheeks and your eyelashes have darkened with mascara. it's clear that he's not the only one who's changed over the summer. your hair is styled perfectly with a nice hairstyle that makes it even cuter. but it's the glimmer in your eyes that attract him the most especially with that faint, flirtatious smile you put on as you smile at the boy who holds your hand. the realization hits jungkook, why the fuck are you holding that boy's hands? that boy probably didn't even know you existed last year so why were you giving him such a lovely look? he thinks he's been staring too long when the guy turns around to glare at him and sticks his middle finger out when you turn around to talk to your friend.

shit.

it would've been a whatever to jungkook, but now, he keeps seeing you everywhere since he's noticed you. and it's not fair that your fucking boyfriend follows you everywhere you go, always in your shadow and never not. and it's like your boyfriend feels notices the glances he throws at you and sends him nasty glares whenever he gets the chance. jungkook fucking hates his ass. hates how he's gotten obsessive over you when he barely knows you; when you don't even know him. he doesn't like the feeling really, but he can't ignore it either so he does everything he can to get the little lovebirds to separate for his sake. eventually a small little rumor breaks things apart and he can't help the little smile that breaks free when the gossip he started reaches his ears. its times like this when jungkook is thankful to the loudmouths his classmates have. and it's like the heavens heard of his prayers when in no time, he had you in his grasp for life.

you don't even find out about jungkook being hurt until your lunch time. the whispers of jungkook's name are loud and seem true enough that you dash out when you hear a short version of the story. you're over the top worried for jungkook. your heart hurts, your eyes are blurring up and sweat is building up on your forehead as you get nearer to the nurse's office. when you find him sitting with a bandages across his arms and hand, fists bloodied and his nose still slightly dripping with blood. and even as the dark bruises are hurting him, red running down his nose and his arms onto the once white bandages, he runs to you with a call of your name and a helpless expression on his face. you let out a painful sob at his delicate form, "jungkookie, this is all my fault. i'm so sorry, you shouldn't be like this." jungkook doesn't deny your claims, tearing into your neck as his arms hug your waist in a tight embrace. you promise to take care of him and you do by spending every single second next to him, making sure he's not hurting. not noticing the sly smile he had on each time you turned around because of how his dumb little girlfriend didn't realize the blood on him wasn't his, but of your ex-boyfriend.

you ignore your ex. can't stand thinking about that stupid idiot, much less seeing him so you make a clear decision to avoid him or anything that has to do with him. sharing your decision with your friends so that they don't even speak of his existence. your blood boils at the fact that he dared to throw insults and then hurt jungkook, provoking you further. unbeknownst to you, your ex-boyfriend was stuck spending his time in the hospital. so it comes to your surprise when you do see him, his arm is in a cast along with his nose covered in white with bruises surrounding it. he's practically limping with each step he takes. when you two make eye contact, your eyes fidget to your phone to tried to avoid him. ignorance that's made harder when he decides to call after you. you're firm as you continue walking but turn around soon after, when you hear the crutches hitting the floor behind each step you take. he whispers about how you should leave jungkook; that there's something wrong with him. but the annoyed look you give him tells him you won't. "leave me alone," is the only thing you utter and before you know it, he's taking your hand as your about to leave and leaning in closer. "___, he's fucking crazy." the terrified look in his eyes is more than enough to scare you, but you're distracted when your eyes spot jungkook's pained ones.

you don’t hesitate to run after jungkook, leaving your ex behind in a hopeless state. you're not able to catch up, but following the sound of his footsteps is good enough to lead you to the back of the school. "jungkook?" you shout for him, wondering where he was. "why are you fucking talking to him?" his harsh tone has you in a ruined state in no time. jungkook has never talked to you in such a way, your mind tells you it's all your fault he's like this. you go to hug him, but all he does is move back and you notice that the tears in his eyes are gone.

jungkook doesn't like what he saw at all. all your words are nothing to him right now; all he feels is anger and jealousy in him. "talking to that piece of shit after he talked bad about you, after he fucking attacked me." he gulps before continuing with a lower tone, "baby, is there absolutely nothing in that pretty little head of yours? you let him hold your hand even after everything. you let him touch what doesn't belong to him." you're crying at this point, telling jungkook that it meant nothing and you only have eyes for him. it's in that moment a light bulb goes on in his head; he's got you right where he wants you. "prove it." his demand confuses you, a small "how?" leaves your lips. you follow his gaze before realizing what he wanted. "will you forgive me?" you question, the hope evident in your mellow tone. "of course, baby." you're about to get down on your knees before he stops you, "nuh uh, pretty," his fingers playing around with the necklace he gave you, "it's something else that i want. c'mon you got this, put two and two together." a mocking tone as he talks to you in a childlike manner. it's in that moment that you realize where both of you still are: school. you don't know how the information left your head, but you shake your head at jungkook. "we're still at school kook, anyone could see us and we could get in trouble." you speak softly, hoping he agrees with you. your palms feel sweaty at his request. it's like a switch-up when he stays quiet for a while, different to how he acted minutes ago but you don't notice. you watch as his bandaged hand tugs a couple of hairs behind your ear.

jungkook wipes his nose with the same bandaged fist that's covered in blood and his bangs slightly reveal the dark purple bruise on his forehead. "please." he begs with a soft voice and with his pretty eyes, you're convinced enough. you just can't deny him, especially after he fought for you; because of you. jungkook got hurt to protect you from that idiot you once called your boyfriend, and you can't help but blame yourself for it. jungkook ruined his reputation for a stupid fight. it's all your fault, so you let him get closer to you. you let him back you up into the hidden corner outside of the school. you wrap your small hands around his neck and let him kiss you. jungkook pushes you into him, his tongue is quick to explore your own. his saliva drips onto your lips and leaves it all messy. his fingers go to unbutton your white button shirt, undoing the blue collar. "you're so pretty, ___." he whines as he licks up your neck in a hurry and sucks it with need until pinkish skin is shown and teeth marks are left. it doesn't help him that the school uniform looks so good on you. the thigh high blue socks the schools requires only feeds on to his desires. and to top it off, you have to wear a blue (mini-looking) skirt with the basically transparent button shirt. and he can't forget the little decorations that you add on, which only fuels his fantasy to have you under him. a little red bow you add on to your hair and the jewelry you add on to your wrist and neck. especially the one that's wrapped around your neck, a sparkling j in the center.

a clear memory goes through jungkook when he raises the skirt he loves on you because it's not the first time he's gotten a peak at what you hide under that skirt; he's seen it multiple times, even before you two started going out but you don't have to know that. he knows he shouldn't have looked, but you wouldn't have minded. would you? either way, he couldn't help it. jungkook's eyes wandered when he was around you. he would ignore the arm that wrapped around your waist (the douche bag you called your boyfriend) and stare hard as fantasies played in his head. he loves the way your tits are so tight in that stupid shirt. he knows he's a pervert for gawking so hard at your ass when you walk pass him, or sometimes taking a peek at what hides underneath. but, he also wished that it was him that was hugging you and kissing you. it would be his dream come true. and maybe, it was just his luck when he saw your panties as you tripped on some rubbish on the ground. thinking that no one was around, you stayed on the ground for a while; whimpering in pain, knees scraped and legs apart, giving jungkook the perfect view of your covered pussy. you didn't wear shorts underneath your skirt, it's like you wanted him to see you in such an intimate way. he swore he felt drool falling out of the corners of his mouth at the sight. he couldn't stop staring (and definitely couldn't forget) at how your body was spread apart on the ground. jungkook doesn't remember how long he stood there before coming to help you, meanwhile trying to hide the hard-on that was growing in frustration. jungkook definitely had luck on his side that day, because soon after, both of you would start to hang out more. it was enough time to indulge your mind and heart.

when you both started dating, you both sat next to each other in almost all your classes. you let his hands play with the trim of your skirt and caress your upper thigh whenever he wanted. ignoring how each time his fingers inched closer to your panties. you were so nice to him. whenever you bent over the slightest, your skirt was basically hanging off your hips, revealing your cute little panties. and now he gets to see them all over again. "shit," he groans at the ache in his cock. you were so enticing with your white panties and the little bow right on the center that he'll never get tired of. but jungkook's too desperate, so he is quick to tug down the flimsy material. quickly choosing to hide it away in his pockets. breath stuttering at your bare, wet cunt. "___, you're so fucking pretty." his finger slides against your slit, immediately getting soaked. his thumb is quick to follow towards your clit, pinching and teasing it until he hears you start to whimper. he turns to you around to place a messy kiss on your lips, tongue dipping in to touch your own as he takes off his pants desperately. his cock is bulging and has left a mess in his boxers, but he pushes it down.

a sigh leaves his lips when his cock stands straight, hitting his abdomen. you don't even get a look before he turns you again and bends you against the brick wall. you feel your heart pound in your chest. "kookie, anyone could find us," you stutter out, a small glob escaping your gaping hole. 'cute', is all he thinks before pressing his hot cock head against your cunt. "shit baby, i have to bend my knees to reach you," he snickers out loud. he can't help the grin that escapes him out of the realization; you're so small compared to him. his shadow completely covers you under him, his hands are huge compared to yours and he can carry you like you're nothing. he's about to press in when you ask if he has a condom. it makes jungkook remember his trip to the pharmacy days before, staring at the pack of condoms he was going to take as he left the store. it brings back the sick pleasure he had then, the need to fuck you raw and full of him. he stands back to his full stature as he softly whispers an apology that he didn't have a single one. he feels slightly angered at the silence you give him, but you wouldn't know because you face the other way. "s' okay kookie i guess." he taunts you in his head, annoyed that you had him standing with a hard cock like an idiot just to ask him for stupid things.

it's already a painful feeling as he pumps his cock. the slit on his tip has precum dribble out. so in return he chooses not to bend down to your height. his hands grip harder onto your hips, the pressure causing you to fuss and arch your back in response. a shriek of his name and a desperate attempt to hold onto the wall distracts you as he lifts you up to the height of his hips by wrapping one arm around your stomach. his other hand directs his drooling cock head into your pussy. as he forces his dick in, your mouth widens as a silent moan escapes you. the tip of his cock is thick and hot. you can hear him pant heavily, calling you sweet names as he watches with heavy eyes as he keeps pushing in until his hips meet your own and the tip shoves right up against your womb.

you can feel tears in your eyes at the way his fat cock is nestled deep inside your cunt. the veins that run down him are perfect and his length excites you. jungkook curses silently as he sees his cock getting drenched off the globs of your slimy slick. he's speechless on how good your pussy feels, surprised he's not busting a nut so far. all he knows is that he'd get on his knees over and over to get just a look at your cunt. it doesn't help that you're practically hanging off his cock, back bending so beautifully to reach him, while your tits are begging to spill out your half-opened shirt. it makes him smug knowing that you could fall if he simply let go of your hips. your legs are dangling mid-air as he fucks you deep and slow for the couple first thrusts before completely switching into a different pace. he feels heavy inside your cunt. all you can think about is him, each time jungkook rams his cock head directly into your sweet spot.

your tiny mouth lets out the dirtiest sultry noises he's ever heard. you sob about how his cock is too big. "kookie," you wail as his cock easily pokes and pushes against your sweet spot and cervix at the same time. you feel the heat from his angry tip that oozes out more chunks of precum, reminding you that he isn't wearing a condom. but you're left dumb with your eyes rolled back when his fingers tease your bud in a hurried pace. jungkook feels your walls squeeze tight on him and it causes a throaty groan to leave his lips. "wet my cock, my pretty baby" he mutters. you shake as jungkook continues stretching your pussy hole out. and with an airless moan, you squirt your juices on his abdomen and the base of his cock. his eyes fill with curiosity at the wetness he feels leak all down his cock and thighs. "s-so perfect for me. little hole gonna be gaping when i leave it. gonna stuff you full of me, isn't that want you want? my little dumb girlfriend wants me to fill her with my cum." jungkook can't help but moan at how your pussy swallows him whole, accepting every inch of him in your hot walls even if he's bigger than you can handle. "gonna be my cock sleeve, perfect for it. wet, little cunt s' clenching around me like a bitch in heat."

he feels the heat crawl up to his face, and it doesn't help that the sweat on his forehead makes his hair stick to his face. he smells your perfume as it begins to stick on him and he fucking loves it. loves that he can grab a full fist of your hair and the only thing you'll do is cry out his name and wet his cock over and over as he goes faster. jungkook leans down to place sloppy kisses down your back, nearing your ear to whisper dirty words that have your cunt clenching tighter around him. the moans you let loose are loud and messy, forgetting your still in school. "people should see how good my baby takes cock, can't compare with no one else, right?" a question you don't answer, or can barely make out with how loud your ass smacks against him. "pussy so filthy and tight, ready to take my cock at anytime and anywhere." you're about to release all over again when jungkook stops to slowly pull back his hips. you whine in frustration, but soon forget when he drags his cock back into your cunt, making sure you feel each vein and curve.

the breathy whines you let out almost drown out the lewd squelches of the bottom of his shaft meeting your bare pussy. jungkook can't hold back the huff, "oh, fuck yes. cute cunt leaking just for me, sucking me right back in," his jaw clenches at how wet you are. each time he sank further, his pace began to pick up with an impatient desire to fuck you harder. "my good girlfriend, s' pretty when she's desperate for cock, my cock." he says mockingly.

"i'm gonna cum," you gasp out with each word. jungkook's fingers make their way to your lips, passing them to reach your tongue. "me too," is all he says before pulling out once more to turn you around and place you right back on his cock. "you look s' fucked out, baby," he whispers with a smug smile on his face, "pussy gonna be nice and stuffed with my cum, yeah?" he's quick to connect your lips together as you squirt from the overstimulation, hiding his desperate groans. you feel his cock spill warm loads of his cum inside you. small curses coming out of his mouth as he continues to runt against you, slobs of cum still leaking into you. you moan at the globs of cum slide down your inner thighs and onto the ground. his voice is soft when he talks to you and carefully holds you onto him. "you're so good to me; my good girlfriend, yeah?" he ignores the way you trace his dark bruises and brushes your hair out. he'll never let that stupid fuck get close to you again. it's not that he's scared of him, but rather of what nonsense he's gonna say. it's best if you don't know that jungkook started the fight, that he went home and hurt himself to make the bruises etched into his skin; smacking his head against the wall until he bled and couldn't think of anything but you and slammed one of his dad's metal tools against his hands to have you next to him, cause jungkook would really do anything for you.

"jungkook, what are you thinking about?" your voice breaks him out of train of thought, "about us." he responds without hesitation, because really, when is he not. his hands rub your waist, slowly taking you onto his lap. you smile at him and it's like he's in love all over again with you. and he hopes you feel the same as he takes his left hand into yours, "i want us to be together forever, ___." you watch the way his doe eyes show you all the love he has for you. you're lucky you've always had jungkook be this affectionate. he's always willing to take you out to a restaurant on late nights, picnics almost every week during the summer, and it's always refreshing to be with him. never once has he failed you, so you can't help the heart-warming feeling in you right now, watching a smile break through his face when you agree with him. "i've loved you from the very start, and i can't wait until we start a new chapter together," he pauses for a while, holding you tighter against his chest, "and you know that i've always wanted to put a ring on your finger, and if you're ready, i'll be more than happy to give you any ring you want." your lips find their way to his as you kiss him with everything you have, "i love you jungkook."

he doesn't even have a chance to respond before you're kissing him again, because you know that he does love you. it's in his eyes; his smile; in everything he does. you're shown love through every gesture he does, like the tattoo he surprised you with last week. big, pretty letters that are deeply inked into the skin of his chest for eternity. these pretty letters that make your name and are surrounded by the soft-feathered wings of beautiful angels. his tattooed hands dig into your hips, angling you on top of his hardened cock. his hand grabbing your jaw, squishing your cheeks and lips as you move your loose shorts to the side. with a harsh tug, jungkook's sweatpants end up at his knees. there's a big pearl of precum on his head, slightly leaking down his base. at the sight, you feel your cunt pulse. jungkook's hands massage your ass as he makes his way back up to unclip your bra. jungkook pumps his cock with your hands, cooing at how small they are. he pushes himself inside your swollen cunt, and it's hard to control himself when your tiny cunt violently clamps around his thick base, taking all of him in. you're moaning desperately into his ear distracting him from your painted nails leaving deep red marks on his abdomen. his lips wrap themselves around you tits, leaving trails of saliva behind before kissing the spots.

"faster, kookie," you cry out as you feel your orgasm at the pit of your stomach. your ass repeatedly meets his pelvis with a burning pain. you're begging for release when his thumb plays with your nub and his mouth is sucking your tits. "little hole dripping all around me, ain't that right baby," a shaky gasp he lets out while his cock makes you reach your high. tears roll down your cheeks at the overstimulation when he grinds himself into your sopping cunt. "gonna make a mess in this pussy," he groans before shoving his warm load deep inside your sore cunt. a little gasp escapes your mouth at how stuffed your tummy is.

just as your hands begin to slide off his shoulders, ready to fix yourself up, jungkook pulls you in close enough that your chest is touching his. you can't even speak when he begins to softly pound into your spent pussy which has you whimpering. there's a cocky grin on his face that you want to wipe off, but it's hard when your oversensitivity makes you weak. with a faint call of his name, jungkook finally halts his sensual motions with a replaced giddy smile, "i love having you in my arms."

as the minutes past, he takes note of your sleepy head dozing off into his neck. jungkook envelopes you into a cozy cuddle as he watches the blarring tv whilst his racing mind drags on with repeated memories of the past; haunting reminders that should never be brought up. he digs his head into your hair, fingers gently kneading into your scalp making his beating heart calm its pace. everything he's done was for you. the thing is jungkook can't limit himself when he's around you. it's a suffocating feeling that indulges every ounce of his body. it fills him with a need to protect you, and it makes him go mad in the head sometimes. it causes him to commit foolish acts of violence against those who he thinks have a role in your life. though, he's gotten better with the persistent idea of becoming a better man for you; a better future husband; a better future father. jungkook's lips turn up at the ends at the sleepy noises you make. "i love you."

2K notes · View notes

vrystalius · 3 months ago

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Hey babess, i have quite the heartwarming request.

So imagine that wife reader is heavily and her water randomly breaks so ofc she gives birth with the help of shinobu(i love her so much) and other midwives ofc. So how would the hashias react during the late stages of pregnancy and birth??

Hear me outtt, what if preg reader was pregnant with twins(im a big family girl lol, i had to let that out). Stuff stuff

Hashira’s reactions during your pregnancy

You’re heavily pregnant. How will your husband react?

Note: I didn’t include the gender and names of the babies, so you can choose the genders and names yourself!

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x fem!reader

Includes: Food cravings, mood swings, sickness, talking to the baby, birth and a little bonus scenario in the end (different for every hashira)

Words: 5.1k, enjoy!

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Food cravings

What? You want to eat ohagi again? Sure it’s Sanemi’s favourite food, but you’ve insisted on eating ohagi for every day the past week. The baby needs some vegetables, fruits, vitamins and whatever else. Just anything but ohagi!

He couldn’t even watch when you proceeded to devour sweet potatoes with a chocolate sauce. The worst part is that Sanemi is the main chef of this household and was forced to cook all kinds of monstrosities for you during your pregnancy. But he never said a word about it and just silently judged you for even asking him to bake a whole fish just so you can covered it in sliced fruits and chocolate sauce.

“Are ya sure you’re not poisoning our baby? Are ya really, really sure?”

Sometimes, Sanemi’ll try to sneak in healthy foods into your diet like one would to with a toddler. He’d chop the vegetables as small as possible and try to feed them to you in bits by bits by incorporating them into your favourite foods. You weirdly enough never noticed how your ohagis began to taste like carrots more and more.

“What? No. I’m making them like always. I.. just used the same knife for both carrots and the beans of the ohagi… Whatcha looking at me like that for??”

Mood swings

It’s very confusing to Sanemi how you can be happily munching on your snacks in one moment and then began crying about a dog wandering the streets, thinking someone abandoned him. He’s putting up with it, though. He’d would take you into his arms and try to explain to you that no, that dog is not living on the street and that it belongs to the nice old lady that lives just down the street. He gets a little nervous every time you get emotional when standing in the nursery and inspect all the prepared toys and clothes. Why are you crying so hard? Do you not want a baby? Or are you just this excited to have one?

He doesn’t get your mood swings but’ll try his best to give you reassurance and support. Even though Sanemi’ll be a little awkward and just hover around you in fear of triggering another random emotion in you.

“Hey, darling… how about we move to the bedroom? The nursey is makin’ ya emotional. You’re gonna loose control over ya bladder and I’m gonna be forced to clean after ya. Again.”

But most of the time, Sanemi’ll get soft when you get emotional over the baby stuff like this. Sometimes, he’ll sneak into the nursery during the nights he can’t sleep and rumage all the baby’s things. Sanemi would look through all the neatly folded baby clothes Giyu send over and the toys Tengen’s wives made themselves for the baby. He can’t help but get a little teary-eyed himself, leaning against the crib and looking down at the soft mattress below. He just can’t want to have a little baby in there.

“Fuck, don’t sneak up on me like that! A-And ‘m not cryin’, I-I’m just checkin’ on the crib. Y’know, if it looks stable and shit. It gotta handle our fatass baby.”

Talking to the baby

Sanemi loves to lay his head against your stomach and just listen to the baby’s heart beat. His hand would gently caress your stomach while mumbling against your skin.

“Whatcha doing in there, hm? Why are you kicking your mommy? You’re hurting her, y’know.”

It’s a weird sight, seeing a strong man like him baby talking to your stomach while having his cheek pressed up against your belly. He’d take at least one hour in his day just to talk to your baby and tell it aaaalll about your and his day.

“Your mom threw up onto our new carpet and that’s your fault, you know that, right? I’m gonna kick your ass for it one day. Maybe when you become a shitbag in your teenage years.”

Sickness

“In both sickness and in health,” and Sanemi meant that wholeheartedly after speaking those words out loud during your wedding. Even if that means sitting beside you in the middle of the night, holding your hair and patting your back while you throw your guts up. He’s sleepy, he’s tired, but he won’t return to back without you. If Sanemi has to, he’ll cook up some tea or soup for you to calm your stomach. He’d even break Shinobu’s door down for some herbs or medicine if it means making you feel better and cuddling you back to sleep with no worries.

“You’re okay, I’m here. Don’t hold back.”

If you’re throwing up for a while, Sanemi might fall asleep in the hunched over position while holding your hair behind your head, his hand still firmly resting on your shoulder in quiet support. He jumps back awake when you throw up violently again.

“Ugh, you good? Told you seaweed n’ cherries don’t go together…”

Birth

Sanemi wanted to complete one last mission before retiring for good. He noticed how his muscles were starting to soften up and the callouses in his hands began to disappear. Just one last mission, then he’ll become a full-time dad! He promised you it’ll be for just three nights and that Shinobu will be looking out for you while he’s gone. You two can talk about preparations, body changes and whatever you two always talk about.

He was close to tracking this scum demon down when he received a message from his crow about you going into labour. Sanemi wanted to go on a mission one time, just one time! Can’t you hold the baby in or something until he comes home? He knows that he has to behead this demon before coming home. That thing already did enough harm and he didn’t want to retire on a bad note by ditching his final mission. So, Sanemi proceeded to chase the demon down while steaming in anger. He wanted to go on a mission just ONE last time, damnit!!

“COME BACK HERE YOU PIECE OF SHIT!! MY WIFE’S GIVIN’ BIRTH, WHILE I’M CHASING YOUR SORRY ASS!!”

Shinobu helped you through the whole process of giving birth. The contractions and labour lasted for almost half a day, and you managed to almost broke two of the three butterfly girl’s hand in an attempt to release some pain. You were supposed to hold Sanemi’s hand and almost break his bones while giving birth, not theirs! Shinobu kept reassuring you that Sanemi surely is already on his way! Surely. She had her soft smile on her face the whole time while you pushed and screamed through the pain, reassuring you and offering all kinds of ways to relieve pain during the whole process.

After Sanemi returned from his missions, he was staring at two babies in your arms. His eyes darted back in forth from the one to another. The baby on your left had beautiful white hair and was squirming around a lot, grabbing your robes and was seemingly already complaining about the lack of feeding you’re doing. The other baby had darker hair and was much calmer. It was asleep, resting against your chest.

His heart shattered in a million pieces after processing what just happened. In a good way, that is. He never commented on it, but Sanemi did notice that you were a little bigger for being pregnant with only one baby. He just brushed it off as being a bit bloated or the baby being really big, but never that it were two babies that were hogging all the food you were devouring. Sanemi was bawling his eyes out while holding both of his babies in his arms for the first time. They’re so tiny, so cute and chubby! How could anyone not love them? He was barely able to speak while trying to express how much he loves you and is so glad that you and the babies are fine. This is everything he had ever hoped for: a perfect wive, a family home and two kids. If only his other siblings were here to celebrate this moment with him. Perhaps he’ll allow Genya to visit every now and then.

“I-I- *hic* W-We need an-another- *hic* … the crib’s not b-big enough- f-for- *hic* gah, f-fuck!! *hic*

Bonus: A tight crib

You noticed how Sanemi insisted on putting the babies back to sleep every time they woke up during the night for anything. You usually fall back asleep and wake up in the mornings back in his arms, but tonight, you wanted to wait until he returns to bed to cuddle him. After the babies quieted down and your husband didn’t return, you dragged yourself out of bed and stepped into the nursery, only to find Sanemi laying inside the cramped crib, having the baby lay on one side and the other on the other. He was laying in an extremely uncomfortable position, with hid neck bend at an awkward angle and him laying in the crib with his legs dangling out over the edge. You couldn’t help but giggle a little, seeing your husband scarfing his own comfort for his babies.

“Nemi?…”

Your whispering made his eyes flutter open. His face contorting into a tired scowl.

“It’s the only way to put ‘em to sleep, not my fault they like me so much.”

Now, are the babies attached to their papa, or is Sanemi being very attached to them?

Kyojuro Rengoku

Food cravings

Whatever you’d like to eat, he’ll provide! Sometimes, if the combinations you come up with sound appetising enough, Kyojuro’ll even try some the foods alongside you! He will not judge you for craving weird foods during your pregnancies, but he is a little worried about your choices. You need to make sure that you eat enough nutrients for you and the baby! Kyojuro’ll try his best to cook up something nice for you, but he ends up buying take-out and feeding that to you instead. He’s scared he might burn something or accidentally poison you, so he’d rather leave food up to the chefs.

“I brought some tempura, some soup dumplings, ramen, udon noodles, mushed and baked sweet and regular potatoes. Oh! And some dessert… Mochi, dango and a slice of cake! Everything you ordered, my flame!”

Shinjuro, after finding out about your pregnancy, would offer to cook for you sometime. He used to make meals for Ruka while she was pregnant, so he thought he might make himself useful and help out. Kyojuro’s father actually vowed to stop with the drinking to make sure his grandkid doesn’t grow up around a drunk grandpa, so this is a first nice step for him. Besides, he feels guilty for being so terrible to Senjuro and Kyojuro.

His meals are surprisingly very well made and tasty. They soothe your nausea, lessen the swelling in the feet and help a lot with your headaches.

“Father, I never knew you could cook this good!” “Shut up and eat your plate.”

Mood swings

Kyojuro feels like he’s causing your mood swings sometimes. He feels guilty when you start crying over little things, like how your favourite tree is starting to change colours in the leaves, or just how much you missed your husband after him leaving for half an hour to get you dinner. He’s used to comforting Senjuro while the two grew up together, so he might know a thing about holding someone. Kyojuro would pull you closer and place lots of kisses on your head and top of your head, rubbing your shoulder with his warm hands. His warmth is very comforting to you, making you calm down a little.

“Are you feeling unwell? What made you so upset, love?”

He’ll try to cheer you up by talking about baby names. In his family, most of the names sound similar and end with an “juro”. Shinjuro, Senjuro, Kyojuro… how about Tojuro? Sounds nice, doesn’t it!? Or how about Kijuro? Or how about you combine your first letters with Juro? That sounds very fitting! And see, your tears are already gone!

“I’m not sure if we should think about girl’s names, my love! My family birthed sons for generations now! But we can write some down if you like, just in case.”

Sickness

Seeing you sick makes Kyojuro nervous, but he’ll stay beside you during your morning sicknesses and nausea. You kind of remind him of his mother, back when she was in the late stages of her sickness, that’s why he gets a little jumpy when you hunch over the toilet snd wretch your guts out. He’ll hold your hair and gently caress your back, silently hovering beside you.

To make sure you don’t have to get out of bed in the middle of the night to throw up, Kyojuro equipped your nightstand with a bowl you can throw up into anytime you felt nausea hitting you.

“I’ll make some tea for you once you get nauseous again, okay? My mother’s recipe.”

Talking to the baby

Kyojuro loves to talk to your stomach as if the baby is already out and able to talk back. He’d sit beside you in bed, gently caressing the side of your stomach while grinning brightly.

“What kind of hair will you have, hm? Like mine? Or like mom’s?”

Sometimes, he’ll try to convince the baby to let you sleep for once. If you can’t sleep, Kyojuro can’t sleep. He’d lay his head on your chest and sleepily mumble to the stomach while slowly rubbing your sides.

“You’re quite the active one, hm?.. mh.. How about we go to sleep together, okay? Be a good kid and give your mommy some rest…”

Birth

When your water first broke, Kyojuro thought the baby might’ve kicked your bladder or something, causing you to leak. But the horror on your face that followed soon after changed his mind in an instant. He sent out a crow to Shinobu, notifying her about your labour, but it might take a while until she arrives. In the meantime, your husband prepared all the things for a homebirth. You probably wont be able to reach the butterfly mansion in time to give birth there, but in the meantime, would you like water? Food? Sweets? A towel? Maybe not the last one because you’re able to hit him with that. You’re very angry about him impregnating you nine months ago while being in painful labour right now.

Shinobu surprisingly arrived very quickly and got right to work. Her soft voice and kind words as encouragement managed to calm you down as far as to not curse Kyojuro and all his ancestors out. Your anger directed at him actually helped you press the baby, so your husband happily sat there and held your hand while you were attempting to break it while redirecting your pain

Finally, after hours on hours of labour, Shinobu’s encouragement and Kyojuro’s hand turning blue from blood being cut off, you birthed two identical twins. Both had your husband’s flamboyant hair colour and prominent eyebrows. Your husband was trembling and crying after seeing them for the first time. His babies, his kids! And two of them?? In one go?? This couldn’t have gone any better. For around the next hour, while your babies were nursing on you, he kept thanking you for everything you ever did for him.

“I-I love you! I-I love y-you! Th-Thank you for marrying m-me, my fl-flame! Than-Thank you for giving me t-two babies! Thank y-you! T-Thank you!!”

Bonus: Tasty hair

Your babies are for some reason obsessed with your husband’s hair. Maybe it’s because of how bright his hair is or how nice it is to chew on it. You caught Kyojuro offering his baby his hair to hold and play around with, only for it to start pulling tightly on it. It hurts a little and he’s not quite sure how his baby got this strength out of nowhere, but he’s incredibly happy that his baby likes his hair so much!

But he also learned that the twins prefer their grandpa’s hair a little more over his. Shinjuro doesn’t appreciate it as much as Kyojuro is, though. He tolerates them pulling on his hair but doesn’t like it. At all. He’ll glare at his son until he finally takes his baby away from his damn hair! His scalp is already burning!

(But we all know that Shinjuro takes them back into his arms on purpose to tickle their stomachs and to let them pull on his hair as they please. They’re just too cute!)

“My flame, could you help me remove our child? This one seems particularly fascinated by the taste of my shampoo!”

Gyomei Himejima

Food cravings

Gyomei will not always give into your odd cravings. Instead, he’ll try to redirect your cravings to tastier things. He’s worried that you don’t get enough nourishment for the baby and for yourself, so Gyomei’ll try to feed you healthy foods instead of eating the creations you came up with. Why do you even thought about eating pieces of clay you picked up from right next to the waterfall? You’re lucky Genya caught you before you managed to take a bite.

To be completely honest, Gyomei is incredibly worried that you’re eating things you aren’t supposed to eat while he’s not watching/listening.

“Love, what are you chewing?”

His calm and deep voice makes you stop munching on the raw onion and immediately put it back down onto the counter of the kitchen.

Gyomei insists on cooking for you, even if he’s blind. He’s surprisingly good with cooking and always manages to slip vegetables into the meals in the tastiest way possible! You somehow never notice and just are incredibly happy that he takes some time out of his day just to cook meals for you! Sometimes, Genya joins in when you two eat and just chats with you about your husband’s training and his big brother. He’s also very curious about your pregnancy and how you’re coming along. That boy is just as excited about your baby as your husband is! Genya even gifted you one of his best bonsai trees to keep in the nursery!

“Miss Himejima, are you still hungry? You can have my plate if you like, I’m going to meet up with Tanjiro to eat later in the city together anyway.”

Mood swings

Gyomei understands that your hormones are going a little crazy during your pregnancy, but he still gets a little surprised when your mood changes so suddenly. You get emotional mostly over Genya and how hard he’s training to make up with his brother. You cry everytime when you see him train hard under Gyomei. Your husband finds it kind how much empathy you’re feeling for that boy, but the poor boy can’t really concentrate when a crying pregnant lady watching him train. So, your husband suggested you to not watch them train as much anymore and instead do something else. As compensation, Gyomei promises you to tell you everything he and Genya have been doing that day.

Sometimes, when you get angry out of nowhere, Gyomei’ll just let you throw your little tantrum while listening you silently. After you finished, he might suggest exorcising you as a joke to lighten your mood, but his serious tone and unmoving expression made him look like he’s serious. Wich makes you cry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m not going to exorcise you, I promise, my pearl. I would only do that in the extrem case.”

Sickness

Gyomei knows how to deal with sicknesses and nausea. Once you express feeling sick in any way, he’ll prepare a special herbal tea, open up all the windows for fresh air, feed you crackers and dry food, and of course, equip you with a bowl to vomit into just in case. He’ll sit with you in bed, your head laying on his thighs and his palm resting on your forehead, slowly petting your hair.

He’s mumbling quiet prayers for you and your baby, his deep and smooth voice calming your stomach slowly. Gyomei’d smile softly while having his eyes closed. You told him that his smile is always making you calm, so he’s trying to smile more often for you.

“How are you feeling? I can brew you another cup if you like, it’ll help you.”

Talking to the baby

Gyomei barely talks to the baby while you’re awake. He’ll sometimes lean down and mumble a couple of greetings and kind words before moving on with his day, but when you fall asleep at night, your husband likes to have one-on-one conversation with his child. He’d have his large palm resting on your belly, rubbing it up and down. Gyomei sometimes nuzzles into your sides and places a few kisses on the side before talking.

He’d be praying first, making sure that the baby is alright and’ll come healthy into the world. Then, he’d quietly talk about you. Your husband’ll talk about the things you like to do, about how emotional you get over Genya, how you pout everytime he leaves early in the mornings to train, how much he loves you and how you insisted on get even more toys, even though the toybox is already filled to the brim.

“We are both very excited to meet you… please be more kind to your mother until birth. Her bladder is not as strong during the pregnancy, so do not test it again.”

Birth

Gyomei was praying the whole time he was waiting outside the chambers of where you were currently yelling in pain. His eyes were closed in concentration and his palms rubbing together, his red pearly beads wrapped around his hands. He could hear every mumble of Shinobu to Aoi, every curse you’re throwing around and every bed creak after changing the position. Shinobu suggested that Gyomei should wait outside since he’s quite large and they need more space to move around you. You promised to him that you’ll be fine on your own. He has been crying and praying, crying and praying the whole time for you and the baby, until finally, everything got quiet. Your cries died down, but there wasn’t any signs of a baby crying either. Gyomei was silent, stopping his prayers for a moment.

Until finally, first one baby, then another started to cry out. Two? You were carrying two miracles in your stomach all this time? Shinobu permitted Gyomei back inside and allowed him to meet the babies for the first time. They felt so incredibly tiny in his arms, so so tiny and fragile… The babies are the most precious things, and he felt like the luckiest man in all of history, holding his babies in his arms. His voice was very shaky and more tears than usual were running down his face.

“My love. I thank you for all eternity for giving me this gift… thank you. I am incredibly grateful for everything you have ever done for me.”

Bonus: Who’s who?

Given that Gyomei’s blind, he has always relied on his senses to move through the world. But funnily to you, his senses fail to differentiate wich baby is who. Sometimes you catch your husband holding one of the babies, standing silently there, thinking about who exactly he’s holding right now.

“Need some help, dear?”

Your voice made him turn his head towards you, smiling slightly.

“Yes, I already fed one of our twins. I went to retrieve more milk and lost track of wich one I already fed.”

His voice sounded a little confused but also slightly amused. Stepping closer, you saw how the baby that was laying in the crib was uneasy and wiggling it’s legs around, while the one Gyomei was holding was calm and content. You figured that the squirmy one wasn’t fed yet and took the sleepy baby out of your husband’s arms, setting it back into the crib and taking out the other.

“Here, this one seems hungry, hm? Aren’t you?”

You sweet-talked the baby a little, tickling the little stomach, making it giggle and kick against your husband a little. Gyomei nodded quietly.

“Thank you. I have yet to figure out how to differentiate our twins properly.”

Giyu Tomioka

Food cravings

He’s a little confused out by your requests that keep getting weirder and weirder. Are you sure you want to eat that? If Giyu would eat that, he’d be throwing up. Oh wait, you actually are vomiting up regularly…

Giyu will give you everything you asked for, but hesitantly. Before placing the plate down, he’d eye you up and down, judging you heavily for what he’s about to dish you. His silent judging eyes are enough to second guess your life choices that made you ask your poor husband to cook mashed potatoes mixed in with strawberry yogurt and sakura mochi with fish filling. Perhaps you’ll take the miso soup instead.

Sometimes, he’ll get so worried he approached Shinobu by himself and asked if there’s any medication he can give to you to make you crave less weird things and eat more healthy. Sadly, there is nothing like that, so Giyu’ll eventually resolved to force feed you regular foods instead. He’ll sit you down and feed stir fried veggies, rice, eggs, soup, tea, dessert and whatnot. Anything else but the monstrosity you keep craving.

One time, he caught you mixing chocolate sauce and soup together in the middle of the night. Giyu was just standing in the doorframe, looking utterly defeated and distraught at your actions.

“I love you, but can you stop poisoning our baby? I want it coming out of you alive.”

Mood swings

Giyu feels like he’s the reason you feel upset so suddenly. Perhaps he should’ve cleaned the house more, or finally finish building that crib. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so angry so randomly. He still is quite surprised how quickly your emotions can change from happy to sobbing about the cuteness of the teddybear Giyu brought home for the baby. It’s confusing.

He’ll try to comfort you the best he can, but your husband already struggled to comfort you when you’re not pregnant and had real reasons to cry about, so how is Giyu supposed to comfort you when you sob over the rice being undercooked?

He’ll just awkwardly pull you into a side-hug, rubbing your shoulders gently.

“Do you want chocolate? I heard people eat chocolate when sad. Or do you just want a hug?”

Sickness

You throwing up and being sick is making Giyu sick. While you throw up into the toilet, your husband would hold your hair back while leaning over the sink, trying not to vomit himself. After your morning sickness passes, he still remains crouched over the sink for a moment longer before preparing a ginger tea for the both of you. He’ll lay in bed for a while, cuddling the blanket while sipping on his tea. He looks like a wet, depressed cat, sipping on his tea with a straw while lying on his stomach like that. He mostly recovers after finishing his tea, but sometimes, he gets really sick. You’ll be forced to take care of your nauseous husband who is supposed to be taking care of you right now! How is he supposed to handle watching you birth your child? How can he slay demons but is not able to watch you throw up?

“Love… can you get me another cup of ginger tea? I’m getting sick again…”

Talking to the baby

Giyu didn’t start talking to your baby until you encouraged him to do so. You told him that talking to the baby creates a bond before it’s even born! So, he’ll slowly start conversations with your belly. He’s not sweet-talking to your stomach, but instead awkwardly holding a conversation with it as if he’s speaking to an adult. Giyu’d sit across you on the bed, his hands propped on his thighs, leaning forward slightly.

“So… how is it like inside the womb? When do you want to come out and meet your mom and dad?”

Birth

Giyu was very panicked when you went into labor. He send out a crow to Shinobu immediately and began assembling something similar to a throne made out of towels and blankets. He forced you to sit down and make yourself comfortable while he waiting on the porch to see when the butterfly hashira is coming. His grip was to tight on the fence of the engawa, he accidentally shattered the wood.

He tried to watch you giving birth, but once he saw the head slowly press out of you, he couldn’t anymore. Giyu held your hand in support and let you squeeze as hard as you want, but he was turned away your lower body, facing you instead. Once he heard the baby’s cries fill the room, he snapped his head around in an instant.

Your husband almost fainted when he saw another baby slowly squeeze out of you. Shinobu handed Giyu the first baby, wich was already wrapped in a towel, so she could direct her attention back to the second baby. His head felt dizzy while holding his baby, not able to comprehend that he’s about to be the father of two. He only build one crib, there’s no room for another. Is he even capable of raising two kids? What if they outnumber and team up on him once they grow up? Now he has twice the chance to fail at parenting and become a bad father!

But once your husband held both babies, all his worries washed away. It was like he was in some sort of trance, watching the babies just sleep and squirm around a little. Giyu didn’t even notice how he started crying until his tears fell onto one of his baby’s forehead and started crying.

“Ahh… uhm. How do you calm a baby down? Do you just rock it? Uhm. Help me, please-“

Bonus: How are you supposed to know what they want?

You watch your husband stress out over why the baby is crying for so many times already, and they’re only two weeks old. You caught him talking to your baby multiple times, just straight up asking what they want. He’s slowly starting to get desperate and you can see it.

“You want food?… No? You wanna be held? Maybe… play? Also no? What do you want then?”

Somehow, only you could understand when and what your babies want. Giyu watches in awe as you immediately figure out that the baby wants to be held and fed, and how quickly they calm down afterwards. You’re just magical, truly.

“How do you know? What do you know that I don’t?”

💠

Phew, this took a while to write! Hope you enjoyed this anon! I tried to incorporate the requested things in this ask from another post of mine, but I might’ve forgotten some. Anyways, my posts haven’t gotten much traction lately, so I hope this one’ll do a little better! I’m looking forward to reading all the reposts and comments you leave, I read every single one of them! Just know that they make me smile like an idiot <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

Note: Over 200 Notes!! Tysm!! <33

— I’d like to credit my cat as a co-author and professional purrer.

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