#i just don’t think they’re very good fics anymore

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

When you want to move on from mediocre fics like Angel’s Egg and Wails in the Walls but those stories are still really popular and you crave validation from other people.

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao

I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?

Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.

I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x

a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.

“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”

You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”

Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God!

You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him. 

Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”

He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned. 

Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out. 

But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much.  “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”

You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling. 

The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing. 

The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much. 

None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted. 

You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be. 

You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!

Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover. 

The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”

It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark. 

You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack. 

Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.” 

“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you. 

Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified. 

“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do. 

There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”

You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up. 

Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you. 

But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”

“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her. 

She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”

She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both. 

You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it. 

“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through. 

You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground. 

Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat. 

You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest. 

You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand. 

You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look. 

You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast. 

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings. 

It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped. 

Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott. 

He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at. 

Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black. 

When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you. 

You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple. 

The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage. 

Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged. 

She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?” 

She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”

The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you. 

You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”

Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”

You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation. 

“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant. 

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”

“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time. 

Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice. 

“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”

“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott. 

Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most. 

So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand. 

“What’re you doing?”

You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens. 

He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior. 

“I think that’d be best.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated. 

You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him. 

What the fuck?

It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. 

He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you. 

Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire. 

And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams. 

He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you. 

He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess. 

Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off. 

Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense. 

Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal. 

You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag. 

But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you. 

You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip. 

You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you. 

You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known. 

“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”

It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?

Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions. 

“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him. 

“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad. 

But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern. 

Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”

If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.

“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue. 

He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room. 

“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off. 

The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”

He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”

You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby. 

Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”

“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another. 

Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up. 

“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought. 

It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”

“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all. 

The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest. 

You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to. 

You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her. 

You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him. 

You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you. 

You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him. 

Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him. 

It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long. 

It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again. 

“Has he made much progress yet?”

Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire. 

His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated. 

That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes. 

He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye. 

You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”

You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”

“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you. 

There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow. 

You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position. 

“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt. 

He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared. 

He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at. 

Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”

Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”

She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever. 

You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor. 

You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain. 

You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere. 

You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”

Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”

You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”

He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”

His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had. 

“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”

You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”

“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea. 

“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said. 

His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love. 

You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him. 

“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up. 

“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order. 

You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. 

That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants. 

You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him. 

Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips. 

You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”

You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”

He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”

You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you. 

He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass. 

a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl ♡ 

[posh--bee]

hotel room revelations || Spencer Reid

pairing → Spencer Reid x Reader

summary → While on a case, you have to not only share a hotel room but also a bed with the BAU's resident genius Spencer Reid whom you have had a crush on since he first joined the FBI. When you wake up during the night with his arms wrapped around you, previously hidden feelings come to light and you realize that your unrequited feelings for him might not be so unrequited after all.

warnings → sharing a bed, love confessions, early seasons!Spencer, insecure!Spencer, misunderstandings, friends to lovers, reader is part of the BAU, no descriptions or pronouns used for the reader, no y/n used

author’s note → I love the "there was only one bed" trope so of course I had to write it with my beloved genius. I'm so happy to finally finish another fic again so let me know what you think about it! <3 (forgot to post this fic and now my cm obsession fizzled out, oops. But I know it will come back to haunt me sooner or later)

word count → 5.2k

When you wake up in the middle of the night, you’re not too happy about it and not sure who or what to blame for it.

You grumble your dissatisfaction without opening your eyes and the warm body behind you freezes.

Now you’re a little confused and you try to fight off the urge to just drift off again so you can actually form a coherent thought because you don’t remember going to sleep with someone else by your side last night. But thinking is still a little difficult when you’re half-asleep and it takes you an embarrassingly long time to even remember if you’re in your own bedroom right now or in another state in some sort of hotel room because of work, so your memory is not the most reliable source of help at the moment.

The someone behind you still holding you in their arms seems to get a little impatient and tries to slowly move away from you again but you don’t let them, instinctively grabbing their hand that is resting softly against your stomach and interlacing your fingers with theirs to keep it there. You hear a startled little sound close to your ear and feel the someone behind you going rigid, even holding their breath in surprise. Feeling bad about spooking your bedmate so suddenly, you apologize by soothingly stroking up and down their arm that is draped over your waist before going back to holding their hand. You don’t want them to let go of you even though you’re still not quite sure who exactly they actually are—but you’re still working on that.

What you do know, however, is that they’re warm and holding you in a gentle embrace and that you feel very safe and secure in their arms. And that you don’t want it to end.

You smile to yourself in satisfaction when you feel the someone gradually relaxing against you once more and you can finally pick up that derailed train of thought of yours to figure out where you are and why you’re not alone in bed.

But that’s when the someone behind you decides to speak up and solve the mystery at last.

“I… I’m really sorry, but I have to move. My arm’s completely fallen asleep…”

Oh. That’s right.

His voice is quiet, timid even and still laced with sleep, and suddenly you’re feeling a lot more awake than just moments before, your heart immediately picking up speed as you remember how you and Spencer ended up in the same bed together.

You’re currently in a little hotel room in a city halfway across the country because of a case JJ had presented you the day before. Five bodies with a sixth person still missing and the local police had decided to ask for the BAU’s help to stop whoever is responsible for these crimes. Spencer and you started to work on the geographical profile while the rest of the team drove to the scenes of crime and talked to the victims’ families. After working until the middle of the night but without making any considerable progress anymore, Hotch decided it was time to go to the hotel, rest, and return to the case after a good night’s sleep.

The hotel was pretty booked already when you boarded the jet so when you arrived at last in the lobby, exhaustion already weighing heavy on your shoulders and your eyelids dangerously heavy, the team was told they had to share rooms and even ended up with a room with a double bed instead of two single ones.

When JJ first announced this little circumstance at first, you really couldn’t care less. Somehow, your tired brain didn’t really consider that you would be one of the people staying in the room with a double bed and much less who would be the other person with you. But when Morgan sauntered over to you, letting the key ring spin around his finger, a wicked gleam in his eyes, you knew nothing good would come of it.

With a smirk he pressed the keys into your hand and announced that you and Spencer would be the lucky pair to share the room with the double bed, giving you a wink that made you want to kill him just a little bit. Morgan knows very well about your little, not all that serious crush on your coworker and makes a point to tease you about it whenever he can, which, unfortunately for you, is very often. Your only consolation is that Spencer is too oblivious to pick up on it even though Derek makes sure everyone and their mother knows how you feel about the young doctor. He obviously claims it’s only because he’s playing cupid and can’t stand the two of you dancing around each other for eternity, but you know for a fact that he’s obviously doing it for his own entertainment as well. Besides, playing cupid only gets you so far when only one person has feelings for the other one—which you’re painfully aware is the case for you and Spencer.

With an especially dirty eyeroll you grabbed the keys and turned to look at Spencer who gave you one of his signature tight-lipped awkward smiles. He didn’t look very happy at the prospect of having to share not only a room but also a bed with you and you tried your hardest not to take it personally. You know Spencer values his personal space so having to spend this and the following nights with another person next to him is nothing to look forward to for him—even if it’s with a good friend.

You masked your disappointment and bruised feelings with a small smile of your own and led the way toward the elevators at the end of the hotel lobby, pointedly ignoring Morgan’s teasing voice telling you to have a good night. You silently swore to yourself that you would get back at him for all of this when the case was solved and over, but right now you were more worried about surviving the next few nights of having Spencer so close to you yet completely out of your reach.

Dealing with your unrequited feelings for the young doctor on a daily basis wasn’t always easy for you but you contended yourself with being his coworker and friend even though it hurt more than you cared to admit. In the beginning, you hoped that your feelings would go away if you just ignored them—after all, it was just a stupid little crush on your adorable and dorky new coworker. But as time went on, and you were still plagued by an eruption of butterflies in your stomach whenever Spencer smiled at you, or accidentally brushed your hand with his when handing you a pen or a cup of coffee, or just stood near you for an extended period of time, you had to admit to yourself that your feelings for him were far more serious than you anticipated at first. The thought of just confessing to Spencer had crossed your mind a lot at this point, to get it off your chest, but the possibility of him rejecting you and losing one of your best friends in the process scared you too much to actually go through with it.

And before you knew it Spencer went on a date with JJ and made out with a gorgeous blonde actress in her pool and flirted with pretty barkeepers, and that was proof enough for you that keeping your feelings to yourself was the right course of action which didn’t mean it saved you from heartbreak or feeling sorry for yourself.

You started to distract yourself with alcohol and attractive strangers between cases, collecting fleeting memories with partners who never really helped you forget the one person who was always on your mind and in your heart. You went on like this until you could hardly look at yourself in the mirror anymore, feeling disgusted and ashamed of yourself, knowing that it would only get worse but still not stopping, telling yourself it was the price you had to pay for not having to spend the nights all by yourself. It was until you drunkenly stumbled into the apartment of yet another stranger, hurriedly opening buttons and zippers, carelessly tossing clothes to the floor, giggling when the stranger’s lips connected to yours despite feeling sick to your stomach. You saw it only when the stranger moved to press open-mouthed kisses to your neck; a photo of the stranger’s family, beautiful children and an adoring partner smiling brightly for the camera, and you wondered if you would ignore this too now that you have seen it, like you ignored the noticeable mark on the stranger’s finger where a wedding ring was clearly missing.

You felt faint when you pushed against the stranger’s shoulders, almost falling over your own two feet leaving the apartment only to find yourself in a part of town you were completely unfamiliar with in the middle of the night. Not knowing what else to do, you called Morgan who picked you up sitting on the curb, looking and feeling pathetic with tearstains on your face. He simply raised his eyebrows at you and wordlessly helped you into his car before driving back to his place. There, he gently wrapped you up in a blanket and cuddled with you on his old sofa for the entire length of three feel-good chick flicks all while alternating between handing you spoons of ice cream and tissues to dry your tears, listening to you in the early hours of the morning spilling your guts to him.

Thankfully, he never talked to you about that night again and you were grateful for it; otherwise, you would probably die on the spot from all the shame and embarrassment it would trigger in you. You had still apologized for inconveniencing him like this, staring at his shoes while stumbling over your words, fingernails biting into the palm of your hands. But Derek acted like he didn’t know what you were talking about, flashing you one of his defeating handsome smiles and you knew that all was good between you two, he was still your friend and didn’t think any less of you, so you pulled him down to press a grateful kiss to his cheek.

It didn’t however save you from Derek wiggling his eyebrows at you whenever Spencer and you sat pressed shoulder to shoulder absorbed in case files or when the two of you would share headphones on the jet while returning home. You are used to it by now, simply sticking your tongue out at him or giving him the finger when Hotch and JJ aren’t looking, earning a good-natured laugh from Derek and a confused glance from Spencer, who, to your relief, never quite understands what the constant teasing between you and the older agent is about.

So yes, after seeking pointless comfort with strangers until the point you almost didn’t recognize yourself anymore, you now are at a point where you would say that generally, you are just fine with knowing that Spencer would never see you as anything other than a good friend and coworker.

But after an exhausting day working on a grueling case, having made close to zero progress on it, and having to share a hotel room and a bed with Spencer only to wake up to him holding you in his arms, you really wish the universe would give you a break one of these days so you could take the time to get over your feelings for your genius friend once and for all.

You sigh quietly, willing your racing heart and those malicious butterflies in your stomach to calm down before letting go of Spencer’s hand, trying your best to ignore the pang of disappointment. The feeling only worsens when Spencer moves away from you, carefully putting some distance between yourself and him, taking all his warmth with him and you can’t help but to curl into yourself at that.

You feel him settle on the other side of the bed, already missing his touch even as fleeting as it was, feeling wide awake and wondering how you will ever fall asleep again tonight after that—and the nights still to come.

“I’m so sorry for ambushing you like that,” Spencer’s quiet voice cuts through the silence of the room, his bashfulness palpable with every word. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t, Spence. Don’t worry.” Quite the opposite, but you keep that thought to yourself, opting for lightening the mood instead. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I mean, I had to share a bed with Emily before and I woke up to her having me in a chokehold so I prefer having you as my bedmate by a mile.”

You’re blessed with a little laugh from Spencer, your body relaxing against the unfamiliar mattress but still missing his closeness from before. You feel him shift on his side of the bed and can’t help but wonder if he too was more comfortable with holding you in his arms. But you quickly dismiss this silly thought of yours, knowing that indulging in false hopes and wishful thinking doesn’t save you from the reality that Spencer just doesn’t feel the same way as you.

“But I’m serious. You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you reiterate after a moment of silence between the two of you, slowly turning around for a more comfortable position which isn’t in the slightest related to the fact that like this you are facing Spencer now. You can’t really make out his features in the darkness of the hotel room but maybe it’s for the best. Otherwise, you probably would give into the temptation of reaching out and brushing a few unruly curls of his behind his ear, your fingers softly lingering on his face just a tad too long.

“That’s—I’m glad…” His voice is quiet, almost distant, and you wonder if he’s already drifting off to sleep again. You couldn’t blame him for that. The day the two of you had was long and wearying, coming into work just to be presented with gruesome pictures from various crime scenes, discussing the UnSub’s profile and MO while being on the jet before being introduced to police officers and grieving family members alike, getting to work without a single break on your mind. If it wasn’t for these inconvenient feelings of yours that caused your heart rate to resemble that of someone who just ran a mile, you would probably feel as exhausted as Spencer is. But in your case, sleep is currently not really something you can think about when all you want is to curl up in his arms like before, feeling warm and safe and happy until the harsh reality of the next morning catches up with you again.

“Still, I’m sorry,” Spencer then whispers into the darkness, your name leaving his lips in a soft sigh, and you frown. There’s really nothing he has to apologize for and you want to tell him as much, but he’s faster than you, his words coming out in a self-conscious rush.

“I’m sorry that you are stuck here with me. I know you’d prefer being with Morgan instead and I’m sorry that he’s being such an idiot about all of this.”

Now you really don’t know what he’s talking about. What does Derek have to do with anything? But Spencer doesn’t let you voice your thoughts, only to confuse you even more.

“I-I know you like Morgan so you were probably hoping that he would just assign this room to himself and you, and I really don’t get why he’s so set on acting like he doesn’t have feelings for you as well. I get he’s not really someone who does relationships but he’s lucky that someone special like you is in love with him so—”

“Spencer, stop—” you suddenly interrupt this agitated rambling of his, trying to wrap your head around the fact that he’s somehow convinced you have feelings for your fellow agent. “Wha-What are you talking about? I’m not in love with Derek Morgan. We’re friends, but that’s really all there is to it. What on earth makes you think that I like him like that?”

You push yourself up on your elbow in your bewilderment, the sheet that covers you and Spencer falling from your shoulders in the process. You quickly turn around, turning on the light by your bedside, not believing what nonsense you just heard. Dumbfounded, you look at the genius lying beside you, his expression confused and apologetic in return.

“I’m—sorry?” he starts while sitting up slightly so the two of you are at eye level, his voice hesitant and uncertain. “I just thought… The two of you are always together, even outside of work, on the weekends. And you have all these little private jokes with Morgan and conversations that always stop whenever someone else gets closer. And he always makes you laugh and flustered, so I just figured—you know, that you like him more than just a friend or a coworker.”

He takes a deep breath and looks away, his fingers fiddling with the hem of the stiff hotel sheet while you can only stare at him open-mouthed.

“And I figured that he’s an idiot for not realizing that he’s the luckiest man on earth to have your heart.”

The silence in the dim hotel room stretches on while Spencer pointedly avoids meeting your eyes and you continue to stare at him, your mind still trying to process that he is convinced about your feelings for Morgan when your heart only belonged to Spencer for a long time now, when you wish for nothing but to wake up in his arms like you just did every day for the rest of your life.

You reach for him and grab his face, holding him in place when he’s startled by your sudden action and the intense eye contact, his eyes widening in confusion and shock but you don’t care. You can’t. There’s a sudden need in you for him to understand how wrong he is about your alleged feelings for Morgan, to make him see the truth that was always right in front of him.

So you resolutely look into his eyes, ignoring the subtle trembling of your fingers against his soft skin and the ringing of your own heartbeat in your ears. You’ve experienced explosions going off right next to you, you’ve cornered armed serial killers and ran into possibly lethal situations without a second thought, but somehow you’ve never been as fucking sacred as you are right now. You could ruin everything you have with Spencer with what you are about to say, but you can’t keep it in any longer. You need him to know how you feel about him, how you’ve felt about him for so long now.

“Spencer Reid, you listen to me. I am not in love with Derek Morgan, I never was and I never will be. I can’t believe you’d think that when I’ve been pining for you for literal years now! It’s always been you, I need you to know that. From the moment I saw you standing next to Gideon with that stupidly adorable sweater and that awkward smile of yours, I knew I was done for. So I never want to hear you say that I have feelings for Morgan when I’m in love with you!”

Your voice is shaking throughout your little speech, but you make it to the end, intently staring into Spencer’s eyes who looks back at you with such a stupidly shocked expression that you would’ve laughed at him if not for your heart beating so wildly against your ribcage that it physically hurt.

The silence that follows your confession is oppressive and all-consuming, and you let go of Spencer’s face so he doesn’t fall victim to your nervous urge to sink your fingernails into something. Instead, they bite into the skin of your forearms as you hug your midsection, watching the young genius open and close his mouth multiple times without making a sound, his eyes blinking rapidly.

Dejectedly, you nod to yourself, already putting together a list of romantic comedies in your mind Morgan will have to endure together with you while you pathetically sob into his shoulder, tissues and ice cream keeping you company on your little coffee table in front of the TV.

You didn’t really expect it to end any differently, but it still hurt more than you anticipated. Your eyes begin to sting and you close them, stubbornly fighting the urge to cry. You have enough time for that later, preferably when you’re not sharing a room with Spencer anymore and the case is over, so you take a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself before opening your eyes again.

Spencer is still looking at you with wide eyes, a noticeable blush adorning his cheeks. Any other time you would find this discovery incredibly endearing, but right now, with your heart in pieces and dangerously close to crying, it only reminds you that you can’t take your words back, that now he knows how you feel about him and that your relationship with him will never be the same again, even if the two of you stay friends.

You manage a meek smile that Spencer doesn’t return, and you wonder if his silent reaction to what you revealed to him could be a blessing in disguise after all. You want him to say something, anything, to you but at the same time you don’t know how well you and your bruised heart would handle hearing him say that he doesn’t feel the same way about you out loud.

What you do know is that you can’t stay here any longer, you need to get out of this room, out of this situation, now.

With one last look at Spencer, you avert your eyes, your voice quiet, tinged with regret.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper before sitting on the edge of the bed, your back now to him, only tilting your head back to speak in his direction. “I’ll ask the others if I can stay in one of their rooms for the night.”

You move to stand up and that’s what snaps Spencer out of his daze at last, hurriedly reaching for you before you can get up, much less process what is happening, one of his large hands on your arm while the other is cupping your jaw tenderly, almost hesitantly. The kiss he pulls you into then is the opposite of that. It’s urgent and desperate and completely steals your breath away, your heart leaping into your throat and your stomach lurching in confused delight. Still, it takes you a moment to kiss him back, entirely too overwhelmed to react, but when you do it’s just as urgent, just as desperate. Your teeth clank together slightly but you ignore it in favor of meeting Spencer’s tongue with your own, your head beginning to spin. You’re not sure if it’s from the kiss or the lack of oxygen but you really can’t care less about that at the moment, especially not when you swallow the appreciative groan that falls from Spencer’s lips as one of your hands finds its way into his curls and pulls not all too gently on them.

The kiss only breaks when you’re certain the two of you are running out of air completely but still Spencer whines quietly at the sudden loss of contact, following your lips until the hand in his hair tugs him back. You placate him with a quick peck to his nose before concentrating on calming your heavy breathing and frantically beating heart, your forehead softly resting against his.

You don’t protest when Spencer starts to pull you closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around you and guide you to settle in his lap, your head now resting on his shoulder, humming in contentment at the kiss he presses to the top of your head. You don’t say anything for a while, having no need for words, not when you feel Spencer’s heart mirror the rhythm of yours as you place your hand on his chest.

You look up at him when he covers your hand with his own and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand that makes your skin tingle pleasantly. His eyes swim with emotions but he doesn’t look away as you try to decipher all of them even though his blush reaches from the tip of his ears to somewhere underneath the soft shirt he wears. Your fingers itch to pull the collar of the shirt down a little, just to see how far that blush really goes when he quietly clears his throat, the bright smile on his pretty lips faltering slightly.

“I’m sorry for—for not saying anything just now. I couldn’t—I wasn’t sure you really meant what you said, I just couldn’t believe it wasn’t some sort of joke.”

You shift in his embrace, ready to repeat what you have said, to express what you feel for him until he is sick of hearing your voice, but before you can even open your mouth, he quickly steals a kiss from you, and then another one, effectively shutting you up and looking quite proud of himself too when he meets your eyes again. So you have no choice but to let him finish what he has to say like you always do, always giving him time to collect his thoughts and listening to him when he is ready to share them with you.

“But I know you would never lie to me, especially not about something like this and only then did I realize we could’ve been doing this years ago if I hadn’t been such an idiot and too blind to see what was in front of me all along because—because I’ve been in love with you for a long time now too.”

The smile that spreads on your face is so big it hurts your cheeks, radiant enough to challenge the whole sun and you have to twist your fingers into the front of Spencer’s shirt to pull him down to you so you can feel his lips on yours again. They’re soft and warm and real and when you part again the laugh that bubbles past his is like music to your ears, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You lean further into him and his arms around you tighten in response, enjoying the comfortable silence in this unfamiliar hotel room for a little while longer before gently speaking up again.

“You’re not an idiot Spencer. How could you have known when I’ve always been too scared to say anything? But now I did and we’ve finally found each other, and from now on we can make up for lost time. What do you say, my pretty boy?”

The adoration shining clearly in his brown eyes tells you everything you need to know and you move in to kiss him once more, preferably without ever stopping again, but suddenly Spencer tenses against you, making you look up at him with a quizzical look.

You can’t stop the little groan that escapes you at his next words.

“You and Morgan—did you really never—?”

As your genius worries his bottom lip between his teeth you really wish Morgan would finally stop being a part of your conversation.

“I—I believe what you’ve said, that you don’t have feelings for him,” Spencer continues, “but I’d understand if at some point, you know—because the way you are around each other—"

“Spencer. Let’s not do this again,” you have to interrupt a second time this night, but not unkindly. “Yes, even though I have feelings for you I have slept with other people, but it never meant anything to me—in fact, it just made me feel so, so horrible. And when it comes to Morgan—he and I are friends and that is all there is to it. It’s true I spend a lot of time with him, that we have a lot of little inside jokes and private conversations just for our ears, but do you want to know what the one common factor is with all of these things? It’s you, Spence.”

You emphasize your words with a kiss to his jaw, easing the tentative look he gives you by gently running your fingers through his soft hair.

“Most of the time I spent with Derek was just me whining about how much I wish you were mine and how unfair it is how adorable you look whatever you do and how smart and kind and pretty you are, and that you probably tried to kill me when you wore your glasses to work every day for some time. It’s honestly a miracle Morgan didn’t also develop a crush on you by sheer proximity to me, like through osmosis. He had to listen to me for years pining about you so he gets back at me for it by teasing me relentlessly about you, so I’ll have you know that all of our funny little private jokes are actually at my expense. My point is, even if Morgan would’ve wanted to start something with me—which he never did by the way—, he, and those other people too, never stood a chance because I only ever had eyes for you, Spence.”

“Oh.”

Spencer shakes his head in disbelief but he’s grinning like a fool with his cheeks and ears painted cherry red. He’s quick to hide his face in your hair, too overwhelmed by the sincerity in your voice and you think that now your genius finally, finally understands. But still, you would continue to reassure him about your feelings if his insecurities should get the better of him again, understanding that he doesn’t doubt you but that the voice in his head sometimes isn’t the kindest to him and that everything about this is very new to him.  

You close your eyes, your head resting comfortably against his shoulder until you’re on the brink of falling asleep, the comfortable and content silence of the hotel room and the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s chest steadily lulling you to sleep. After the long day you’ve had and the excitement of this night, exhaustion has now caught up with you and if the big yawn that escapes Spencer is any indication, he is feeling its effect as well.

You’re vaguely aware of Spencer reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp before moving the both of you to lay down together, shifting and coordinating limbs until you’re both comfortable with him holding you in his arms, his hand resting softly on your stomach and your fingers interlacing with his.

You smile to yourself, knowing that from now on you’ll have the privilege of falling asleep like this every night—in the arms of your beloved genius.

[luveline]

Hii! I'm in love with your Hotch adult daughter fics. Could we get one where she is getting bullied in college or where she works and then Hotch finds out somehow and helps her? Please please :)

thanks so much for requesting! fem, 1.2k

He decides to surprise you. He’s at risk of embarrassing himself greatly, and he’s okay with that risk. 

Hotch stands outside of the George Washington University and winces in the hot weather. The sun beats down on the back of his neck. He’s more aware of how little sun protection he uses as the time stretches on, waiting for you, but he doesn’t mind it. He’s worn full suits in the Nevada desert. 

You emerge from the main building where your last class for the day takes place. He dropped you off here last week, got to watch you walk in and say hi to the custodian. It was a nice insight of who you are, someone he’s proud to be the father of though he had little hand in what you’ve become. 

Behind you are two female classmates. 

Hotch pauses under the tree he’d taken refuge by. 

He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can see the rigidity of your shoulders, your hackles rising as they talk. The brunette gets a nasty look on her face, to which you respond, and the blonde’s volume begins to rise. 

The brunette looks like she might reach for you. “Don’t touch me,” you warn. 

Hotch steps in. 

“Hey, excuse me,” he says, loudly and firmly, the Unit Chief tone in play. He’s gotten very good at raising his voice without shouting. “What’s going on here?”

The two women who were talking to you falter, but the brunette stays fiery. “We’re just talking.” 

“About what?” 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“If you’re going to lay your hands on her, it becomes my business,” he says. 

There’s a guilt to the blonde’s expression that proves you’d been thinking correctly and that she was going to touch you, even if it were only to grab your wrist, but she bristles and denies. “We weren’t.” 

“Then you have no reason to stay.” 

You frown deeply. “No, they can finish. Clearly they think it’s important–”

“But do you think it’s important?” Hotch asks you. 

Your frown, your anger beginning to ebb. You take a breath. “I suppose not.” 

Hotch levels the women with a look. Just a look, not interrogative or heated, but prompting —it’s the kind of look he gives people when he wants them to realise they’ve missed their cue to leave. 

“See you next week, then,” the brunette says, a threat he abhors. 

“I’m sure she will,” he says, hoping anything unsaid is felt. He has no idea who they are or what you’ve apparently done to make them angry, but you won’t be intimidated. 

“Do I need to talk with Dean Langley?” he asks, turning to you as the women walk out of hearing range. 

“Aaron.” You look at him, look like him, not in appearance but the pinch to your brow as you rub the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” 

“What?” 

“They do it to me every time I’m here.” 

“They do?” 

You sound like it’s a chore. “They think I’m sleeping with our professor.” 

“Why would they think that?” 

“Because ever since I stopped working, my grades are much better, n’ they think I cheated my way there.” 

Oh, of course. Hotch tries to do something good by you —he’s started giving you a little chunk of money every week so you don’t have to work anymore, nothing obsequious but enough to cover everything you need, rent and food and transportation, clothes, textbooks, and he made it clear you can ask for more— and it makes things worse for you instead. Still, “Your grades are improving?” 

“I’m doing pretty well,” you confess shyly. 

He holds your shoulder. “I’m sorry they’re jealous, and I’m sorry they’re inventing a narrative to cope. I really can speak with Dean Langley if you need me to.” 

You smile and let yourself lean into his touch. “Inventing a narrative to cope,” you repeat. “That’s a good one. I’ll use that one.” 

You have more fight in you, it seems. “If it gets too much, just let me know. You don’t have to entertain their delusion.” 

“I’ll use that one, too.” 

He laughs, hand sliding behind your back to hug you from the side, his nose briefly pressing to your temple before he gives you space again. “I was hoping I’d catch you on your way out, are you busy? Let me take you to dinner, celebrate your performance.” 

“You realise I wouldn’t have improved without your help?” you ask. 

“I think any parent in my position should provide for their kid,” he says easily. “It’s not help. Not everyone can support their children through college, but I can, and I wish I had been from the start.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” you say. 

He nudges you into a walk toward his car. “I owe you more than you realise.” 

He takes you to an early dinner, and celebrates your improving grades with the dessert of your choosing. Conversation with you can sometimes feel strange. It’s hard to think you were a kid once and he’d never met you, but then he realises how young twenty two really is, how you’re still willing, longing for him to be a father to you. You’re smug that he’d go to the dean to for you. You like that he stepped in. And you love being doted on, being encouraged. He can see that easily. 

“When can I come back to see Jack?” you ask eventually. 

He wishes he could say whenever you like, but he has a hard time following Haley’s movements. “I’ll ask. Soon, I promise.”

“He took great care of me.” 

The last time you’d stayed over, Jack acted like you were the best thing since sliced bread (which you are, in Hotch’s eyes). 

“You know, he had a little trouble with bullies last year.” 

“They aren’t bullies,” you say, taking a bashful bite of your ice cream. 

“No, of course not. But he’ll understand, if you want to tell him about it.”

“Aaron, he’s five.” 

“He’s six,” he corrects. 

“Oh, sorry. But still, I don’t think Jack wants to deal with that. I couldn’t unload on him, he’s my… you know, he’s my little brother.” 

“Then tell me about it, at least.” 

“You saw the most of it.” 

He sighs. Wishes you’d call him dad, understands why you don’t, and can’t think of what to do. It was easier when Jack had trouble, because little kids bully each other almost on accident. They don’t know what they’re doing is wrong, having learned the behaviour from their parents. It’s almost never personal. 

Your situation is not the same. 

“I’ll talk to the dean,” he suggests again. 

“Don’t bother. It’s alright. And if it gets worse, I’ll tell you.” 

He smiles, reaching over plates to squeeze your hand briefly. “Thank you.” 

You look down at your food. Some shyness to you still at being cared about. “Thank you,” you mumble. 

[darnell-la]

I love your writing so much and I have mad respect for the quality and quantity of your work. Those often don’t go together but you must be superhuman

Anyway, I’ve seen a few fics around about Logan in a rut (which I absolutely love) but what if it was the other way around?

I imagine being on a mission with him and you are some sort of animal hybrid. You get hears but take suppressants normally but one night you start to feel it but have run out of pills

Not a super openly needy !reader and possibly even superficial “enemies” with Logan and you are very stubborn

note: Logan Howlett loves himself a little animal he can ruin.

———

“Have you heard about y/n?” Hank asked Logan as Logan walked through the lab doors. “Nah,” Logan said plainly as he walked towards the cabinets for sleeping pills Hank had made for him to ease his sleep a bit.

“So, you know how she’s quite literally an animal in a human's body, right?” Hank asked, making Logan hum, because he couldn’t care less about anything that had to do with her.

“Well, she’s going through a rut,” Hank slightly whispered, speaking as if that was a bad secret he should’ve kept to himself, and he should’ve.

Logan snapped his head towards the man, eyes widened and eyebrows scrunched. “What do you mean by rut?” Logan asked, already having an idea about what the beast meant.

“You know — Mating season. The professor had me make some pills for her a few weeks ago, and y/n already ran out of them. That’s why I’m making more right now,” Hank said, having no idea what he just awoke in Logan.

“Ran out?” Logan asked. “Yep — Guess they’re not strong enough so she took double or triple of what I prescribed to her,” Hank replied as Logan thought to himself.

The man’s mind had run wild, not thinking he’d ever feel this cocky or needing to tease y/n about this.

“How come I didn’t know about this?” Logan asked. “Oh, I didn’t know you didn’t know. Mostly everyone in the house knows about this, so I don’t see a problem with you knowing,”

Logan hummed with a nod before he left the lab, completely forgetting and not caring about the pills anymore. He had some things to do.

For the past hour, Logan had been setting up to get to y/n. When it came to making her mad, he was quick with thinking and doing whatever he needed, but teasing? He knew this would feel better.

The man had taken a long and nice shower, making sure the soap he used had a strong smell to it. Afterwards, he got out and lotioned down which he never does. Maybe his hands, but never his whole body.

When he got dressed, he dressed in normal blue jeans with a nice thick and heavy leather belt. He matched his undershirt with a white tank top that was a bit tight on him.

Logan was known for using a bit of cologne, maybe a smell more in the manly side, but today he wore a cologne Scott had given him for his birthday. “That shit you always wear scares the woman away. It’s too strong,” he remembered the man’s words.

After Logan was all done up for y/n, ready to start his evil torment, he walked out of his room and made his way downstairs towards the living that y/n was always in.

The man had entered the room, giving y/n no eye contact as he sat down on the sofa he’s always on, making sure to let out a louder groan the usual.

Y/n was confused about who had just walked into before she looked up from her phone to see Logan. She’s never smelled him or anyone this way? Why does he smell so clean and good?

Logan grabbed the remote that was on the arm of his sofa and clicked through a few channels until he found a good movie. A very sexual move that he was not really into, but he knew they had a lot of explicit parts.

Long and hard minutes and buy for y/n. The smell of the man and the sounds of the movie only made the time go by slowly. She prayed she could handle whatever she felt, but she would soon break.

“What are you even watching, Logan? Like seriously?” Y/n asked, a hint of anger in her voice, but she tried not to make it seem that way. She had told almost everyone in the mansion about her rut, but not Logan. She didn’t want him to know something like that of her.

“Nothin’ sweetheart,” Logan said in his normal tone, but for some reason, that sent a shock through y/n’s body. “Well, could you maybe put something else on? Ian tryna listen to all that,” she said as she rolled her eyes.

“Why not? We’re all adults here,” Logan argued back which y/n hated a bit more at this time. “You’re a fucking dick, you know?” Y/n sighed as she shifted on the couch.

“Oh, and why is that? Can’t handle a bit of porn?” Logan asked as he looked at the going lady. He knew his plan was working. Watching her this uncomfortable was far better than arguing with her.

“Whatever, Logan, just- Just shut the fuck up,” y/n cussed, feeling more annoyed and bothered than ever at the man. If she hated him so much, why did she feel this way? She didn’t know, and it bothered her. It bothered how much he got under her skin with little things.

“By the way, the professor has a mission for us in an hour, so if you needed to get dressed and shower, do it now. Don’t needa be late because of you,” y/n said, making the man chuckle. He knew what she was trying to do, and she failed.

“Already showered and dressed, Bub,” Logan replied, which made her roll her eyes again. She wanted to cuss him out and demand him to do something about his smell and look, but she stayed calm. She had to, or else, he’d know.

“Do we seriously have to stay in this fuckin’ hotel? We’re only a few hours or so away from the mansion. Our plane can fly that itself,” y/n said as Logan opened the door to a semi-expensive hotel room.

Logan told the professor that he and y/n were pretty beat up tonight, and needed time to sleep before they flew back.

Of course, since the professor saw no problem in it, he didn’t read Logan’s mind and saw he was lying. He just called the hotel and told them a couple of X-men needed a place to stay. The hotel had no problem with giving the two their best room.

“Are you serious? A fuckin’ one bed!? You’re sleeping in the voice,” y/n said, thinking Logan wouldn’t argue about it like anything other time, but tonight he did for specific reasons.

“I’m sleepin’ comfortable tonight, princess, so if you’re too childish to share the bed, lay on the couch yourself,” Logan said, knowing she would be er do that. She loved a soft bed.

“Fuck you,” she cussed before placing her luggage down to go through it and see what she had for tonight. She felt bad for how much language she had used today, but she couldn’t help it. She was furious.

“Fuck!” She cussed once again as she went through her bag, only finding an extra suit, underwear, and bra. She thought she’d be home by now, and not in a fancy hotel with one bed to sleep in with Logan.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked as he sat in the bed, taking his shirt off that y/n hadn’t seen yet. “Don’t have any close to sleep in,” she said with a hint of anger that she tried to hide.

“Just use mine. Ain’t that hard,” she said as he went through his luggage to pull out a large shirt he had sprayed with some cologne earlier today. He planned well.

“Thank you, I guess,” y/n said as she turned around to grab the shirt. When she did, she froze, seeing Logan’s whole upper body on display. He’s always walking around the mansion shirtless when the kids aren’t there, but tonight, she actually felt bothered by it.

“God, put a shirt on,” y/n tried covering her stare up before she yanked his shirt away. “Can’t do that — You took my sleep shirt,” he smirked to himself as her head dropped.

“What do you mean, Logan?” She asked with a sigh. “Hey, you’re the one who ain’t being shit, so done get mad at me,” Logan said as he unbuckled his belt. That sound made her heart pump.

“You didn’t bring an extra!?” She asked. “Either you wear the shirt, or you wear nothing. I don’t mind taking my shirt back,” she said. She caught his slight flirty comment, and she really wanted to reject him, but couldn’t.

“Whatever,” y/n said before getting up quickly to head to the bathroom before Logan took his jeans off. She couldn’t stick around for it. She didn’t want to test her strength tonight.

“Look, I don’t know what making you pissy today, but fuckin’ cut it, alright?” Logan said as he dried himself off. “You’re making me pissy!” Y/n yelled at the man after she flopped on the bed.

“Yeah? And why is that? I haven’t done shit or even said shit to you all day,” Logan said, already knowing what was wrong with her. He could barely keep his smirks together.

“Logan, can you please just dry off and change in the bathroom like I did? Is that so hard?” She asked as he dried his hair. “Kinda,” he said, making the girl sigh with a mentally painful whine.

“I heard you’re going through your little rut, but it shouldn’t be this bad. Like c’mon. You can’t game a bit of smell and skin?” Logan chuckled, making y/n snap her head towards him.

“You know about that?” She asked, not knowing if she should feel embarrassed or be upset at the man. “Yeah — Ain’t too hard to see either,” the man smirked as she got up from the bed.

“You know I’m going through a fucking rut, and you got us a hotel? With one bed!? And the only thing covering you is a towel? And your shirt smells like this!? — You planned this,” y/n growled.

“Indeed I did, and it’s pretty fun to watch,” Logan said as he put the towel he was drying himself off with, down. The other hung around his waist loosely, making sure his v-line showed.

“Logan, you can’t do that shit. This dangerous!” /n yelled at the man. “Dangerous? How come? Because I’m locked in a room with a woman who needs to rub one out? Oh, so dangerous,” Logan threw his hands in the air.

“No, it’s dangerous for me! I don’t have my pills, a-and it’s just hard to keep himself together,” y/n slightly explained. “Why is it hard? You know if it’s that bad, you can just ask me to help you,” Logan said, feeling a little bad, but not too much.

“In your fucking dreams,” y/n spat, making him laugh. “Don’t think I’m dreamin, Bub,” Logan said as he began to walk towards y/n. “Hey, no! — No! — Stay back!” Y/n yelled at the man as she backed up until her back hit the wall, next to the bed.

“Why? You horny? Can’t have a man close to you or you might devour them?” Logan asked, a few feet away from y/n. Y/n ran for it and jumped on the bed to get over and on the other side, but Logan caught her.

The man grabbed her ankles and pulled her body into his before leaning over her to trap her in between him and the soft bed.

“Just say the words, and I’ll help you, princess,” Logan said, his own animalistic tone breaking through. “No!” Y/n yelled again, only making Logan grind his lower body in between her legs.

“You sure?” He asked as the towel rubbed her clothed cunt. Logan made sure to only bring a shirt, so that would be the only thing she slept in. No sweats and no shirts.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Logan,” y/n tried keeping her moans in as the towel rubbed her harder. “P-Please stop this. We can’t,” y/n said, but Logan wasn’t having it.

“But we can, and you know it,” Logan said into her ear, lips only a few inches away. “Just tell me you want me, and I’ll rock your little word,” the man said slowly, voice almost enchanting.

“Lo,” y/n said, voice trembling at what she really wanted to say. She was too embarrassed to ask the man to touch her. She was also too stubborn. They hated each other, and he’d constantly tease her if she let this happen.

“I can smell you, y/n. Just give in,” Logan said as his hand slowly traced down her body. Y/n panicked and pushed him off, using strength that he’d never felt come fr her before.

Y/n basically backflipped over the bed to get on the other side and away from him. He was getting to her, and she hated how much her body reacted.

“Little girl thinks she can outrun me, hm? Let’s see who’ll get to that door first,” Logan challenged. Before she y/n thought, her feet moved, taking off to run to the door and maybe get out, but she should’ve known better.

Logan had jumped over the bed like an animal on all fours then pushed her up against the door, hard, knocking the wind out of her body.

“Too slow,” Logan's voice was in her ear before she was sung around. She didn’t know how, but she ended up on her back, legs over the man’s shoulders as her head spun.

“Logan, stop this! W-We can’t,” y/n tried crawling back, but the man held her in place with one hand as the other ripped off his towel. Y/n’s eyes widened when she saw the sight of Logan.

“You wanna know a secret?” Logan asked before he ripped y/n’s panties off, earning a yell from her. “I’m always in a rut when I’m around you, but I rub one out to save your pretty little cunt,” Logan said before he spat on his hand and rub it across her folds.

Y/n struggled to get away from the man. His one-hand grip was tight, and the way her legs were over his shoulders, made it harder for her to push back.

Logan wasted no time pushing at y/n’s entrance, moving forward until he filled her with every thick, veiny, long, and leaking inch he had.

“Logan!” Y/n basically screamed as her hand instantly gripped his wrist which held her down and pulled her into him. “Nah uh, get your hands off of me, or I put mine all on you,” Logan threatened.

“Too much- Too much!” Y/n cried out as his hips snapped harder. “That it, y/n, I fuckin’ warned you,” Logan grabbed the young lady and lifted her body. Her legs still stayed over his shoulders, only making the angle harder for her to take him in.

“L-Lo,” y/n stuttered with a broken whine as one of his hands wrapped around her back and the other held her up by one ass cheek, allowing him to spread as much as he could to fit in her further.

“Told you to quit it, but you never listen,” Logan breathed heavily into her head as his hips thrust forward, moving at an incredible pace that made her feel dizzy.

“So fuckin’ tight, I’m definitely coming back to you. Always wanted you anyways,” Logan admitted as he felt her squeeze him at his confession. “You like that, don’t you? Mean old Logan bully you and this pussy,”

“C-Cumming,” was all y/n could get out as she gushed around him. “That’s it, baby — Keep it up, and I’ll fill you twice tonight,” Logan’s hands gripped the woman’s body tighter, leaning mini bruises that probably weren’t going to be too visible, bye who cared? He didn’t. He planned to mark her up tonight to surprise the crew when they got back.

[taevbears]

Movie Night

When horror movies don't scare you anymore, your boyfriend wants to figure out what you are afraid of.

⤑ pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader (feat. the Daegu boys) ⤑ genre: horror, mystery, suspense, one-shot ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.1k ⤑ warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, depictions of kidnapping, torture, and multiple murders, hidden camera, non-explicit sex, a bit of angst, open ending. this fic gets pretty dark, so please be cautious of the warnings! ⤑ note: happy halloween! this started as a little spooky shower thought i had a little over a month ago and became this lol. i love reading scary stories, but lmao, i feel like i'm not very good at writing them. thank you @angelicyoongie for assuring me that this isn't as terrible as i think it is. also please note that this is a work of fiction and i don't think IRL jungkook is like the character in this fic at all

“No, please! Don’t hurt me!”

The shadow of a muscular, male figure looms over the female protagonist. His breaths are heavy from chasing her around, barely visible against the chilly, October air. Finally, he has her cornered. He holds up a sharp knife in the air.

The woman trembles on the ground, sobbing and pleading for her life to be spared. Mascara runs down her cheeks, and a look of hopelessness and despair fills her eyes. She holds her hands in front of her in a feeble attempt to defend herself.

The camera pans away as the killer violently stabs the woman. Her terrifying screams of pain and anguish echoes from the TV screen as fake blood splatters on the wall.

Blue and white light bathes over you and your date in the dim living room. You try to suppress a long yawn with the back of your hand.

You’re so bored, you’re practically in tears.

“You didn’t like it?” Jungkook asks you, chuckling at your reaction.

“It didn’t scare me,” you admit sheepishly, hoping he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

You love horror movies. It’s what inspired you to become a film student. You love being on the edge of your seat from the thrill and suspense that the main character acts out. You love being genuinely shocked from unexpected twists and jump-scares. You love a good ghost story that haunts you long after the credits roll, or the paranoia of a similar terrifying incident happening to you.

But perhaps, over time, they’ve lost a bit of their magic.

Although the production of movies has become phenomenal in recent years, movies these days seem to rely too heavily on shock value and nostalgia. Once popular franchises are milking out their legacies to a newer audience. There are so many retellings of the same, old stories that you can already accurately predict what will happen before you reach the ending. Even some of the most climactic scenes of the movie are so over-the-top, they’re almost comical.

Honestly, it has nothing to do with your date or even the so-called horror movie itself. You just don’t scare as easily anymore.

Jungkook peers are you curiously, a boyish grin on his face. “Then, what are you scared of?”

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah? That’s a bold statement.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Jungkook laughs. “You have to be scared of something.”

You throw the question back at him. “Then, what are you afraid of?”

He thinks about it, rubbing his chin in thought and pushing his tongue against the lip rings on his mouth. Then, he meets your gaze. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles at you. “Hmm, I think I’d be scared to lose you.”

You find yourself smiling back at him.

“You’re so sweet, Kook,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him.

Only recently, you and Jungkook started dating officially, and you really like him a lot. He’s very cute, funny, handsome, and perfect in many ways. Butterflies flutter in your stomach when you’re around him, and there’s still that exciting giddiness and eagerness of new love whenever he messages you or visits you in the evening.

In some ways, Jungkook is almost too good to be true.

Part of you wonders if there’s a catch.

But with his lips on yours, it’s easy to push that thought aside.

Credits roll on the screen as the movie comes to an end. His fingers glide up your thigh as yours tangle into his hair. The cool piercing on his lips presses against your bottom lip as he slips his tongue in your mouth, and a soft moan escapes you.

Suddenly, Jungkook pulls away and faces the TV. He uses the remote to tap out of the movie credits and browse through the list of recommended shows on your streaming service. Casually, trying to hide a teasing smirk, he asks, “How about we watch a different movie, then?”

You stare back at him, a bit stunned and flustered. But your own smile touches your lips.

“Or,” you suggest, grabbing his wrist to lower the remote. He turns away from the screen to look at you, eyes lingering on the sultry smile on your lips. “I know something else we can do instead.”

When you first saw Jungkook, you thought you were being catfished.

His selfie on the dating app included a slight head tilt, a pucker of his pierced lips, and a peace sign. Big, doe-shaped eyes stared back at you from your phone screen, and you noticed the tiny moles below his lip, on the tip of his nose, and on his cheek.

The second picture was of him and his brown doberman, affectionately named Bam. The picture was taken of them outside. One of his hands was holding a tennis ball and the other was gently touching the dog’s long ears. A small, fond smile tugged on your lips when you looked between them and realized that they kind of looked alike.

The third picture was him at the gym. It was a back-shot where he was using the equipment. Broad shoulders, buff arms and back, a tiny waist. You stared way too long at his strong muscles and the ink on his arm before you finally swiped right.

Turned out, much to your surprise, he liked your pictures too. The two of you were a match.

And it wasn’t long until he sent his first message to you. In your inbox, a simple: “hey :)”

On your first date, the two of you agreed to meet at a very public, very crowded bistro. You stood nervously by the building, dressed nice for the occasion. And in case anything went wrong or if this Jungkook guy wasn’t who you expected him to be, you shared your location and had a “send help lol” message on standby for your bestie, Min Yoongi.

As you waited, scrolling through and jumping around different apps on your phone, you found yourself to be surprised yet again.

Someone who looked like the guy you’ve been chatting with called out your name. And soon, he was standing in front of you: big eyes, bigger muscles, tiny beauty marks on his face, colorful ink on his arm, a charming smile, and a simple, “Hey, I’m Jungkook.”

One date turned to a second date. Then, a third. And by the fourth date, as he laid in your bed that night and snuggled close to you, it finally started to sink in that Jungkook wasn’t some figment of your imagination.

He was real, and sweet, and seemed to really like you as well.

Jungkook, like you, had an interest in filming. He especially liked editing videos for his dance challenges, short clips, and a series he called “Golden Closet Film” on his channel. While you imagined yourself to be a big director, working in movie sets, and making scripts come to life with your vision, Jungkook told you he’d like to film a project where you’re the star.

“I don’t think I’m on-screen material,” you replied, amused by the idea. You’re not an actress. You don’t think you have the kind of beauty filmmakers seek out for their lead roles. Hell, if anything, Jungkook would be a better fit for an acting gig.

“You are,” he insisted, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “To me, you’re perfect.”

You smiled at him then, your heart fluttering by his words. “You are to me, too.”

It was shortly after that conversation when you both decided to date each other exclusively. And it felt like the kind of romance you’d see in the movies. Picture perfect, a little corny at times, and a thrilling whirlwind of laughter, teasing remarks, and intimate touches.

“Am I who you thought I’d be?” Jungkook asks you the next morning after the movie-night bust, propping himself up on the side and peering down on you. His arm flexes, colorful ink decorating it, as the thick comforter wraps around his bare body.

“No,” you confessed, still a bit tired from last night. You keep your eyes closed as you quietly murmur, “You’re even better.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t need to open your eyes to see the pleased look on his face. As you feel him press his lips against your cheek, you ask, “What about me? Am I who you thought I’d be?”

Had you opened your eyes then, perhaps you would’ve seen it. The blank look on his face as he pulls away from you, how the light in his eyes suddenly seems to vanish, as if he isn’t really looking at you anymore.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you right away. When you open your eyes, you see him shaking his head. The same, sweet boyish smile appears on his lips.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

The topic about exes inevitably came up early on in your relationship with Jungkook. You’ve dated casually before. Even thought you’d be getting somewhere with some of the guys you were talking to.

But none of them quite compared to Kim Taehyung.

You were a film student. He was a photography major. The two of you were bound to end up in some of the same classes together in the art division.

To you, it was love at first sight. You fell for him so hard and so fast.

What started as bumping into each other at the library and helping each other with assignments led to making out at each other’s dorms with the text books left unopened. Coffee dates between classes became anniversary dinners at nice restaurants. He introduced you to his parents, and you proposed going on a romantic getaway together.

The day you didn’t think you’d ever love anyone else was when he snapped a photo of you looking out at the scenery during that weekend trip. It was just you and him, and a natural setting that looked straight out of a movie.

He smiled to himself as he looked at the picture through his camera. That day, he called you his muse.

And in return, you told him that you loved him.

When you fell for Taehyung, you fell hard and fast. Eventually, it occurred to you that Taehyung didn’t do the same.

Sure, he cared about you. Sure, he loved you. But while you heard wedding bells and dreamed about your future with him, Taehyung was just starting to put himself out there in the world. His art was being recognized, and he was getting booked to shoot at weddings, parties, and other big events every week.

Soon, the dates happened less frequently. The romantic gestures of bringing you flowers, surprising you on nice dates or small gifts, or even renting your favorite movies to watch together happened even less. He would promise that he’d make it to a party or an important event to you, just to let you down. And it felt like him giving you a bit of affection or attention was a chore.

Taehyung was the world to you, but the petty arguments and the distance that started growing between you two made it clear to you where his priorities were. And it wasn’t with you.

Breaking up with him was the hardest thing you had to do. Both of you knew it was coming. It was just a matter of who broke up with who first.

Just as Taehyung came into your life, quickly and effortlessly, he was gone. Nothing but bittersweet memories of what once was and what could have been weighed heavily on you for months.

What made it worse was that Taehyung, a man you loved with all your heart, had moved on from you so fast and so easily.

You saw him and his new girlfriend at a mutual friend’s party. You were warned that he’d be there, that he was already seeing someone. But it still hurt like hell to see him happy and in love with another person.

But if Taehyung could move on, so could you.

It felt weird at first, but you started to put yourself out there again. You joined dating apps. You went out with the people that fancied your interest. You met Jungkook.

And from there, everything was history.

With Jungkook, you started to think about Taehyung a lot less. The plaguing “what ifs” have quieted down, and the hurt from heartbreak began to heal. With Jungkook, you started to feel like yourself again: you started to smile more, laugh more loudly, enjoy watching movies again, became passionate about cinematic ideas you’d like to create one day.

With Jungkook, you’re also cautiously optimistic.

Because like Taehyung, you feel yourself falling hard and fast for Jungkook. It’s almost scary how truly perfect he is.

“I think you’re just psyching yourself out,” Yoongi tells you, sliding into the chair opposite of you with two cups of coffee in his hands. He smells like freshly-baked cookies. A spot of flour stains his apron as he uses his fifteen-minute break to hang out with you.

“Maybe,” you sigh, gratefully taking the drink he hands you. “What do you think about him?”

“Does my opinion even matter at this point? You’re in love with him,” he drawls before taking a sip of his Iced Americano.

“Of course it does, best friend. Why else would I keep you around?” you remark, taking a sip of your own drink. “Besides the free coffee and cookies. Thank you, by the way.”

He rolls his eyes. The perks of being friends with the cookie boy at your local bakery is a free cup of coffee and getting dibs on leftover treats that didn’t sell the day.

“He’s fine. Kind of annoying. A little too energetic,” he answers as his eyes flit toward the TV screen that his boss keeps on. A woman dressed in bright, business clothing holds a microphone as she reports on the recent news. There’s a grim look on her face.

You have your back turned to it, but you can hear Yoongi’s boss turning up the volume.

Breaking news. Missing woman found dead near home. The victim has succumbed to multiple stab wounds. It is believed that she has been kidnapped and tortured prior to her violent death. The attacker is currently unknown and still at large. Local authorities advise staying indoors and to please report any suspicious activity.

Your heart sinks as you look over your shoulder, seeing police taping off the crime scene and answering what they can to the news outlets. The location is so close to where you are.

“This is the second victim,” a customer mutters with a frown.

The person they’re with nods their head and asks, “Do you think they’re connected?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. We’ll have a serial killer in our hands.”

“Hey,” Yoongi calls your attention. When you look at him, there’s concern on his face. “If you need a ride anywhere, make sure you call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

“I’ll be okay, Yoongi. Jungkook usually comes to my place anyway.”

“Still. Just let me know that you’re still alive when I check in, all right?” he says as he stares at the screen. You don’t blame him for being worried. As you follow his gaze, you see a picture of the latest victim of the ongoing case that has the whole town on edge.

This woman, like the others, kind of looks like you.

“If you’re with me, you have nothing to worry about,” Jungkook assures you, throwing a tennis ball as Bam hurriedly chases after it. 

The two of you are at a park with his dobermann. Despite how scary it’s been lately with the news, it’s a nice day. Children are screaming and playing together on the playground as their parents watch them nearby. A group of teenage boys are playing basketball on the outdoor court. Middle-aged and elderly couples are paired up and are getting their daily steps in.

“My hero,” you joke half-heartedly, but you’re still a bit concerned. Yoongi being worried about you makes you feel paranoid.

Jungkook turns to you. He holds out his hand as Bam retrieves the ball and drops it for another throw. “I thought you weren't afraid of anything.”

“Movie-wise, I’m not. But this is different.”

Jungkook throws the slobbery ball again. Further this time as Bam barks happily and takes off. He takes a seat next to you on the park bench. “I can leave Bam with you when I have my evening shifts. He makes a good guard dog.”

He works as an editor and cameraman for a big content creator, which gives him lots of flexible hours to work on his projects when he isn’t busy filming. Since the beginning of autumn, his boss has been giving him evening work to film ghost-hunting videos and other spooky content for Halloween.

“That’ll be nice,” you reply with a small smile. The two of them have been coming to your place so often, it might as well be their second home.

From a short distance, Bam lies on the grass with the tennis ball by his paws. His tongue is out, needing a short break from running around, as he faces you and Jungkook. Even with other dogs and kids around, he’s very well-behaved.

Just as Jungkook tells you that he’ll get Bam, the sound of small, excited barks grab your attention. A familiar black and brown pomeranian approaches you like an old friend, wagging its tail and perking its ears up when it sees you.

Your heart nearly jumps when you recognize the dog.

“Tan!”

You know that voice. How could you not?

That deep, smooth baritone has haunted you for months.

Taehyung, your ex-boyfriend, stops in his tracks when he realizes why his pomeranian took off. The two of you were still together when he adopted Yeontan, and you were there to help raise him when he was still a puppy.

“Who’s this?” Jungkook asks, drawing your attention back to him. He reaches out to pet Yeontan, but the pomeranian growls at him. Almost like he wants to protect you from him.

“Sorry, he’s mine,” Taehyung apologizes, stepping closer to you two and picking his dog up. He looks at you as he tries to soothe the agitated Yeontan in his arms. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you reply politely. Old feelings start to pull on your heart strings that you fervently try to ignore. “I’m good.”

“You look good,” Taehyung starts, but then he purses his lips in regret. It’s obvious that he’s nervous to talk to you. Maybe he feels the same as you.

Softly, you reply, “You do, too.”

“Who’s this?” Jungkook repeats. This time, there’s an annoyed look on his face as he stares at Taehyung. 

It puts you off a bit. Jungkook is usually a friendly guy.

“Oh, this is Taehyung. We used to date,” you tell him honestly. Though, the information seems to just annoy him more. “Taehyung, this is—”

“I’m Jungkook. She’s my girlfriend now.”

His arm snakes around you possessively. He holds a steady gaze, but it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Dark, threatening, and angry. It’s almost unnerving.

“I see…” Taehyung trails off as his gaze shifts toward him. Yeontan is still in his arms, growling and barking at Jungkook. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the pup so aggressive toward someone. Even Bam comes over, ditching his ball to guard over you and Jungkook.

“It was nice to see you, Taehyung,” you tell him, sensing the tension in the air and deciding to cut things off. He seems reluctant to leave.

“Yeah…” he continues to trail off, finally pulling his gaze away to look at you. It looks like there’s a million things he wants to say to you. In a lower tone, he tells you, “My number is still the same. If you ever want to talk.”

You frown. After the breakup, you’ve deleted his number and unfollowed him on social media. “Oh, I don’t—”

“Then I’ll call you,” he promises, firm with his decision.

You don’t get it. You and Taehyung have run into each other after the breakup before, and he’s never had an issue with you dating anyone after him. He clearly has moved on, and so have you. 

Why now?

What is it about Jungkook that has him worried for you?

“I don’t like that guy.”

Jungkook is still heated as he drives you home. His grip is tight around the steering wheel, and the tires screech when he makes a sharp turn. Bam stumbles a bit in the back before sticking his head out the window again.

“Slow down, Kook. You have nothing to be worried about.”

The radio blasts in the car, too much in a rush to connect his playlist to the stereo. It’s playing the week’s top music, and a catchy song from a popular artist fills the car.

Curious, you open your phone and check your followers. You’ve unfollowed Taehyung a long time ago on all your social platforms, finding it hard to look at any of his recent pictures – even just his scenic photography – without thinking about how he had once called you his muse.

But Taehyung never unfollowed you. He had always kept his inbox open for you.

“Did you see the way he was looking at me? It’s like he was looking down on me,” he continues to rant, speeding over a yellow light. He glances over at you and sees that you’re distracted with your phone. “I don’t like how you were looking at him either.”

“Are you serious?” you ask, turning your attention to him. “We barely talked. What the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

On the radio, the program is interrupted. One of the hosts makes a grim announcement.

Ladies and gentlemen, we just received unfortunate news that a third body has been found pertaining to a series of brutal deaths. 

“You still love him! You’ll go back and leave me again!” he suddenly snaps, throwing you off guard.

Silence follows the tension.

Then, you inquire, “Again?”

The third victim is a young female. Hair color and eye color match the previous victims as well, indicating that this might be a targeted attack by the killer.

Not once have you been unfaithful to Jungkook. Even when you were starting to message each other, you weren’t talking to anyone else. The two of you haven’t even been dating that long.

“Forget I said anything,” he starts with a frustrated sigh. But he realizes he’s fucked up.

“No, I’m not just going to forget it. What do you mean by that, Jungkook?”

As of now, authorities have no leads on a suspect. All victims have been kidnapped, tied up, and tortured prior to their deaths. We are led to believe that this is the work of a potential serial killer. 

He nearly slams to a stop. The seatbelt around you yanks you back from hitting the dashboard. Bam falls to the floor and you gasp as the back of your head hits your seat.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, but for the first time, it feels like the rose-tinted glasses you have on him have fallen off. He’s always been perfect to you: sweet, athletic, talented, and kind. But the Jungkook before you is someone completely different.

This Jungkook scares you.

Stay inside. Lock your doors. Call the police if you see anything suspicious. Be safe out there, folks.

“I told you to forget about it, didn’t I?” he asks through gritted teeth and a harsh look in his eye.

You nod your head, hands trembling a bit as you hold onto your vibrating phone. The screen shows an unknown number trying to contact you.

“Is there a reason why your boyfriend called me?” Yoongi asks you from the other line. He has you on face-time, awkwardly propping up the camera to show his elbow as he mixes a batch of cookies.

It’s been about a week since you saw Jungkook.

After he dropped you off at home, he wanted to put it all behind him. He kissed you sweetly and murmured apologies for overreacting as his hands slipped under your shirt. But you sent him home before he could convince you to sleep with him. You were still upset about how hostile he was toward Taehyung, his accusations about you, and what his outburst meant.

That hasn’t stopped him from trying to get back to your good graces, though.

The number of missed calls from him keeps increasing by the hour. Ones that you leave unanswered or send straight to your voicemail. 

You don’t want to talk to him.

At your door, you hear him rapping his knuckles against the wooden frame and insistently ringing at your doorbell. From the other side of the door, he begs for a chance to explain. 

You don’t want to see him.

Clearly, after reaching you directly hasn’t worked, he’s starting to contact your friends.

“He’s probably trying to find me,” you tell Yoongi, poking at a bowl of fresh strawberries. You’re still dressed in your pajamas, sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter.

The sound of a small dog can be heard in the background of your line. It dawns on him that you’re not at your place or Jungkook’s.

Yoongi is silent for a moment. Then, he grabs the phone and asks, “What do you mean? Where are you?”

You don’t feel safe in your own home. And that day, while you were in Jungkook’s car, Taehyung called to check up on you. He was always good at reading people, and he warned you that he had a bad vibe about Jungkook.

And you’re starting to see what he meant.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

When you turn your phone, you reveal Taehyung busy in the kitchen, cutting off the crusts from his sandwiches. He looks over his shoulder and gives a sheepish smile at the scandalized expression on your best friend’s face. “Hey Yoongi.”

“Can you please explain what’s going on? Why are you at your ex’s?”

So, you do. You tell him that Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone, that you needed some space to cool off but he wouldn’t let you breathe. It was becoming overbearing and overwhelming.

Against your better judgment, you call Taehyung. He invites you to stay over at his place until you’re ready to talk things out with Jungkook. Because even if you’re not together, he still cares about you. Because a part of him will always love you. And at the time, it seemed like a good idea.

“I didn’t want to be alone, especially with a killer targeting women like me out there,” you explain quietly. It feels like the murders have increased in a shorter period of time. If the town wasn’t on edge before, they certainly are now. “But I was still mad at Jungkook, and he was starting to scare me.”

“So the first person you go to is your ex-boyfriend?”

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

That ship has sailed. You know it has when you walked in and saw his engagement pictures hanging on the wall.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m sure he would’ve figured out that I’d be with you,” you tell him with a frown.

“I just wanted to help her, hyung,” Taehyung adds as he stands behind you. “I worry about her too. That guy gives me and Tan a bad feeling.”

Yoongi sighs. “Listen, I don’t think this is a good idea either. You shouldn’t stay with Taehyung. It’ll just make things look a lot worse.”

“I guess you’re right,” you reluctantly agree. Taehyung grimaces, but he can see Yoongi’s point too.

“I’ll pick you up after my shift. You can stay with me until you’re ready to talk to Jungkook,” Yoongi tells you, looking rather serious. “Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime, okay?”

Hey. It’s Jungkook.

You stare at the message on your phone. Three dots that indicate that he’s typing something, but he keeps erasing and re-typing them again. As if he’s trying to properly convey his words.

Are we breaking up?

You stare at that message even longer. It feels childish to break up with him without trying to talk to him. For the first time in a week, you pick up your phone and type back.

You scared me, Kook.

His response is immediate.

I thought you weren’t scared of anything.

You huff when you realize he’s teasing you, even now.

Movie-wise, I’m not. But this. This is different, Kook. You were really scaring me.

Again, you see the dots appear and disappear before a handful of responses appear.

I know, babe. I’m sorry. Can you please come over? I want to show you something I’ve been working on.

You think about it.

I miss you. Bam misses you too.

Yoongi said not to do anything stupid.

Please, baby. We can just watch a movie, if you want.

But, like in every horror movie, the protagonist finds themselves making a plethora of stupid decisions.

Okay, Kook. I’ll come tonight.

Movie nights with Jungkook was one of the things you always looked forward to throughout the week. Nothing appealed to you more than a night-in with your boyfriend, food delivered at your door, and checking out new shows and movies.

You have your list of favorites, but nothing quite holds a place in your heart than a good ol’ horror movie. Tellings of urban legends, supernatural forces, paranormal activities, true crime, and slasher films. 

As you step into Jungkook’s house, it almost feels like you’re in one of those movies.

His place is dark, almost pitched black. You could barely see what’s in front of you.

“Come inside,” Jungkook says, grabbing your hand. He pulls you in and deadbolts the door behind you.

“It’s so dark,” you remark, gingerly stepping forward. You have a bad feeling about this. You almost pull back toward the door, thinking of waiting for Yoongi or going back to Taehyung instead.

But Jungkook has a firm grip on you. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“This is different, Kook,” you try to reason. “You’re really freaking me out.”

He pulls you further inside. In the living room, nothing but the TV is on. The screen is paused on a homemade film.

This must be the project that Jungkook is talking about.

Everything is set. The living room is clean, a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of alcohol sits on the coffee table, the lights are off, and the show is ready to play. He sits you down in the middle and keeps an arm around you.

“You know, when we met, you were exactly what I was looking for,” he starts as he presses play.

The tape shows you. Bam lying on your lap as you affectionately pet his face and kiss the top of his head. You, holding Jungkook’s hand and leading him down a busy sidewalk. You, in the kitchen, trying to swat his hand away as he steals your ingredients. You and Jungkook, peering into the camera lens, and your bashful face as he kisses your cheek. 

A smile tugs on your lips as you watch yourself on the screen. Jungkook leans over, copying his onscreen self and kisses your face.

One thing you liked about filming is seeing things from a different perspective. In this case, seeing yourself through Jungkook’s eyes. You look so happy, so incredibly in love with him.

Like with Taehyung, you fell for Jungkook hard and fast.

But Jungkook fell for you harder and faster.

Your smile fades as the next scene shows.

The camera points to the bed, and a couple walks in. It’s you and Jungkook, stumbling in together after drinks at a bar. You’re laughing and trying to wrap your arms around him as he leads you onto the bed. The kiss you share is messy, heated. You tug off his clothes to feel more of him.

You remember that night, but…

“Jungkook. When did you record this?”

You had no idea he was filming you then.

You don’t realize it then, but he makes eye contact with the camera, as if to check that it’s on. He maneuvers you to get a good angle of your body as you busy yourself with your own clothes, wanting him to touch you more as well.

“Jungkook, stop. I didn’t—” 

You feel so sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, baby. Here, I’ll fast-forward.”

But you don’t want to watch anymore. You want to leave. You shouldn’t have come here.

The screen shows you and Yoongi. The two of you are at the bakery he works at, and you’re wearing an old cardigan that you got rid of . You smile and eagerly reach for one of the coffees in his hands and take the bag of cookies he’s holding between his lips. He rolls his eyes at something you say before he takes his first sip of his Iced Americano. It’s a typical hangout between you and him.

It looks like it was taken across the street. Your heart plummets even further when you realize that the old cardigan you’re wearing was a piece of clothing you got rid of before you met Jungkook.

The scene changes. You’re sitting at the fountain at your university, looking over a script you wrote for an assignment. Taehyung comes to take a seat next to you. He greets you with a boxy smile and a kiss. The two of you were still dating at the time.

How long has Jungkook known about you?

How long has he been targeting you?

It’s you and Taehyung again. This time, it was filmed from the other night. When Taehyung came to pick you up from your house. He helps you carry some of your things into his car and hugs you when he sees the distressed look on your face. 

“Jungkook, what the fuck?”

It dawns on you that you don’t really know your boyfriend at all.

You try to stand up, but Jungkook has a firm hold on you. His grip tightens when you try to resist him, and his hand seizes your neck as he pushes you down. Your heart hammers against your ribs when you quickly realize you can’t escape him. Jungkook is much stronger and faster than you are.

More images flash through the screen. It’s Jungkook this time, taking a mirror-selfie of himself dressed in all black. He has his hood up and a Halloween mask covering his face. 

It cuts to his feet walking across the sidewalk. Carefully, the camera tilts up, showing that there’s a woman just ahead of him. She’s about your height, her hair the same as yours. She doesn’t notice him as she listens to music playing in her earbuds. 

The scene cuts again, and the same woman is bound and gagged on a chair. Fear shines through her eyes as a shadow of a knife reflects from her body. Behind the camera, Jungkook demands, “Say your line.”

He removes the gag from her mouth. Her voice pitches in a high shrill as she quickly says, “I-I love you. I won’t leave you.”

You recognize her as the latest victim of the latest killings.

And the realization hits you like a truck. Jungkook and his night shifts, the increasing deaths, his interest in filming, having you as the star.

“I practiced, you know. I’ll get it right this time,” he tells you, pulling out some rope he had hidden behind the cushion. You’re trembling as he wraps them tightly around your wrist. “I’ll make sure you don’t leave me again.”

“You’re so bad,” the Jungkook on the screen says, showing what looks like an abandoned warehouse. It’s dimly lit, but you can hear someone running from him. But he doesn’t seem worried, his heavy footsteps casually echo across the concrete. In his hand is a sharp and bloody knife. Mockingly, he asks, “Where did you think you’d go?”

The victim has been let go, but she isn’t free. Ahead, she finds herself cornered as Jungkook catches up to her. Terrified, she holds her hands out in front of her, as if that would stop him.

It’s like seeing your own fate on the screen.

The woman begs and screams before her blood splatters across the floor. You find yourself quoting her, staring up at his darkened eyes. “No, please. Don’t hurt me.”

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, staring right at you. His mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

[wonysugar]

close the door | hanni pham

synopsis : you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she.

genre : fluffy smut!

pairing : non-idol!hanni x gf!femreader

tags : they’re in love your honor, lots of kissing and making out, cuddling, l-bombs, top!femreader, bottom!hanni, they’re both virgins, fingering, clit play, nipple play, neck kissing, hanni’s dogs are mentioned twice lawl, lots of comfort, lots of consent! they’re literally just lovey dovey girlfriends having sex for the first time aheheh

warnings : none :]

word count : 2.5k

a/n : if you’re rereading this and thinking “hey the synopsis changed and there wasn’t an author’s note before!!” well you’d be right I POSTED THIS IN A RUSH I’M SO SORRYYFKEJF

anyways!! this is just to say that this fic is inspired by the lovely writer that is sorry for tagging you twice ahh @facefullofsadness’s fic right over here :] sooo GO READ THAT FIRST! it’s truly lovely and i really enjoyed reading it, hence why i wrote thisskfke. thank you for readingg<33

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

you would die for your girlfriend, actually, even if you only started dating barely a few months ago. who could blame you? that’s what happens when you’ve been best friends prior to your relationship for so, so, so long. it simply started with a ‘hi! my name’s hanni! what’s yours?’ from her part at the innocent age of seven and just like that, years later, you guys were still inseparable. 

so really, your life-long friendship and months-long relationship were both with the same gorgeous and outgoing girl, and the only thing distinguishing those two was the label you used to describe them.

“bro i genuinely don’t understand why he doesn’t just… run away. cause— get this, there’s obviously a murderer in his house right? and what does he decide to do about that? just stay in there. like, okay.. like i’m aware they needed plot but lord, i don’t know at least make it somewhat realistic you know what i mean—“ was what your girlfriend said, on her bed as she sat down in between your legs and leaned her back against you, her head facing forward and resting on your shoulder.

you simply nodded along to her words as you played with her hair, trying your hardest to stay focused on the piece of media before you whilst also paying your utmost attention to her, despite her constant ranting and criticizing of the entire movie. you, having originally liked the film, were now conflicted about your opinion on it. it’s not like she was wrong, her very heavy criticism had to have come from somewhere, after all, but you couldn’t help but slightly appreciate the storyline. so, you weren’t really sure what you felt about it anymore.

one thing you were certain of, however, 

was that your girlfriend looked really good while passionately rambling. like, way too good. she had tied her dark hair into a high ponytail, it also looked wavy due to the rain that was pouring on you guys earlier, her messy bangs fell perfectly onto her forehead. and her smile? it always looked perfect. she always looked perfect. 

and since you apparently weren’t hiding your admiration well enough, she very quickly noticed it.

she giggled teasingly. her voice sweet like honey, her australian accent more prominent than usual, she spoke up, “hello?” before full-on laughing, “were you even listening to me?”

you could only kiss her, that seemed like the only appropriate response in the heat of the moment. she, of course, kissed back just as lovingly before pulling away moments after, a curious and confused look on her face. 

“no seriously, what is up with you?” she kept teasing, smiling stupidly as she kept her gaze lingering on yours for the following seconds, her eyes unconsciously drifting to your lips. “you look stupid.”

“and you look really pretty.” was what you whispered back to her, earning a shy smile and an exaggerated eye roll from her. immediately, you made your lips come into contact with hers again. it felt as if the world would stop spinning if you didn’t, like a slowly growing urge to keep touching her suddenly came over you and you needed to fill it.

“so.. so pretty.” you mumbled, so quietly that it was almost to yourself, before going back in. you allowed yourself to make the kiss deeper and slid her tongue across her soft lips as you demanded entrance. you could hear her let out slight noises, she clearly was not expecting you to do anything of the sorts, at least not right now. she was a tad bit confused, but let you in, who in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to kiss their girlfriend? immediately, your hands wrapped around her waist whilst you continued kissing her lovingly, your tongue roaming every part of her mouth.

it didn’t take long before your hands started naturally reaching under her top, caressing on her tummy and progressively going higher with each sound she let out.

you pulled away, slightly worried of going too far, “c-can.. can i continue, hanni?”

you were scared, terrified, even! despite knowing each other for years, you’d only been dating for a few months; those are two completely different things! it’s not like you see your completely platonic best friend’s naked body every tuesday. even then, despite dating, you still haven’t gotten that stage of the relationship. and on top of that,

the two of you were a proper pair of virgins. you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she. you didn’t want to seem like an inexperienced loser to her, you wanted to take care of her and make her feel good. what if that didn’t happen? what if you made it awkward between the two of you?? it was nerve-racking.

as if barging into your mind and reading your thoughts, wanting to reassure you, she grabbed your hand in a gentle manner before nodding. then, she spoke up, “can you close the door?”

“there’s.. nobody home, though?”

she giggled, “oh i know, it’s just that i don’t want the dogs to potentially walk in on this.”

you groaned dramatically, laughing and insisting that you were too lazy to get up and that her dogs wouldn’t understand the situation if they even walked in. she, in response, just tapped your knee with a cheeky smile, encouraging you to stand up.

“come on y/n, close the door. think about milly and mia; think about their innocence!” she exaggerated.

after playfully hitting her arm and laughing along with her, you got up, proceeded to close and lock the door like she asked you to and eventually walked back to her bed, sitting back on it and positioning yourself the way you originally were, her back to you again. 

“happy?” you asked in a fake arrogant tone.

she hummed, radiant, “yes, very happy.” before turning her head just right and kissing you again.

eventually back to the original rhythm of the kiss, you placed your hands back on her stomach again, slowly caressing and teasing higher and higher with time. once you reached her bra, you proceeded to impatiently unhook it, immediately taking it off of her.

her breathing got heavier with each second that passed, partially due to nervousness, probably. you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the case for you too. the more your hands carefully roamed her body, the more self-conscious you got, you truly had no idea what you were doing. 

then, as if something in your mind clicked, you had an idea. what if you just did to her whatever you enjoyed doing to yourself in moments like these? that could work.. right? maybe??

you glided your hand upwards, your finger lightly grazing her nipple. in response to the sudden movement, a lewd sound accidentally escaped from her pretty lips, her breath hitching. that sound was a small moan.

a small one, barely audible, yet it was still enough for you to feel the activation of every single neuron residing in your brain.

then suddenly, it’s like the concept of making love to her wasn’t as nerve-racking as it originally was.

“s-sorry..” she apologized, seeming slightly embarrassed.

you kissed her cheek, reassuring her, “don’t apologize, i wanna hear you.”

despite it being an accident, she seemed to enjoy the sensation of your hand on her chest, so you went back to teasing her tits and gently groping them before you eventually asked, “is it okay if i go further..?”

nodding in a keen manner, she swallowed her saliva, then breathed out her response, “yes. yes keep— keep going. please.”

well shit! even if you wanted to stop, it’s not like you could, not with how good she sounded pleading for you.

not wasting any more time, you proceeded to separate one of your hands from her chest and quickly slid it downwards; to the band of her sweatpants. now, of course, your other hand was still in its original place, working its magic, but you wanted her to feel more. so much more.

you wanted to convey every surge of affection you violently felt for her into pleasure. and, if there was one thing you surely knew how to do, it was kissing her. 

so, you started kissing on her neck, which she didn’t expect whatsoever, and still heavily concentrated on the hand you had on her breast. then, you pulled on the sleeve of her tee just enough to expose her shoulder and moved your mouth towards it, nipping and gently licking it.

your hand now fully slipped into her pants, you teased her entrance through the fabric of her underwear as you kept kissing her naked shoulder. you listened to her attentively and took mental notes of her reactions; so far, her breathing got heavier, her thighs slightly clenched around your hand and she was now frequently biting her lip. 

plus, her panties were wet. 

did all of that mean you were doing good? …perhaps it did!

and did her drenched underwear make you short circuit? perhaps it did as well!

“d-d’you feel okay?” you asked, before going back to slowly kissing her shoulder. she threw you a quick glance, chest heaving up and down. 

“s-so okay.” she giggled.

her smile being contagious, you found yourself doing the exact same thing, content with the answer she gave you.

soon enough, you traced your finger up her clothed slit before eventually sliding it into the undergarment she wore, making her shudder. after what felt like an eternity, you could feel her slick coat your digits from one swipe of the finger. 

it was tantalizing.

growing impatient, you quickly yet carefully settled your middle and ring finger on her swollen clit, making slow circular motions on it, looking at her in the process. full on whimpering, this time, she stared back at you, no longer embarrassed. she wanted to let you know how good you were making her feel, hence why she was getting louder with each movement you made, and it filled you with enough confidence and adrenaline to gently push her head towards you, leaning in for a kiss.

thankfully, she kissed you back, deeply at that, her eyes closed and her quiet moans muffled.

you pulled away after a few moments, “tell me if it hurts, okay?” you reminded her. she simply nodded, brain all fuzzy from arousal.

she grabbed your other hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. “g-go slowly.” she whispered.

“i will.” you affirmed.

slowly and gently, you slid your fingers into her core, making sure not to go too fast or too rough. thankfully, the wetness was making it easier for you, and probably for her as well. every time that your girlfriend’s breath hitched, that her hand gripped harder on yours or, hell, every time that her eyes closed, you stopped in your tracks and double checked to see if you were hurting her, so it took a little while for your digits to fully penetrate her. 

fortunately, she assured you that you weren’t, in fact, hurting her. some moments just felt more comfortable than others, is all.

once they were fully in, you gave her time to get used to the feeling, still double checking on her state every now and then. after a few deep breaths, she nodded.

“i-i’m ready.”

you started to pump your fingers in and out of her, taking in all of her as your speed slowly increased as time went on. naturally, as more time passed, you felt the urge to make her feel good get even stronger.

that’s when you decided to increase the pace, your fingers curling on just the right spot inside her, pumping faster and faster as your thumb played with her clit.

“is this okay baby—” you asked.

“f-fuck— yes y/n that feels good—“ was what she moaned out, cutting you off. a feeling of bliss progressively and clearly overtaking her whole body.

when you tried to look at her despite only being able to see her side profile, you could’ve sworn you saw an angel. her cheeks were slightly tinted with a pinkish color and her eyebrows were upturned, her whole face contorted with pleasure, her skin glistening with sweat. her eyes hooded with lust, hanni looked down at herself and attentively watched as you played with her. your fingers swimming in her slick, navigating in her folds the way a skilled sailor would the vast ocean, it was hypnotizing, and she realized how this was probably the way you got yourself off on a regular day, and she couldn’t help but moan at both the thought and the sensation. 

you made her feel good, you made her feel happy, loved. you always did.

amidst the chaos that was her messy bed, the setting somehow looked better than every piece of artwork you’d ever seen combined. the bed creaked ever so slightly, and she looked and sounded so beautiful, especially with the way the sun set directly on her parted lips at that moment. 

you were certain that your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“i love you so much, hanni.” you softly said, kissing the back of her ear whilst you kept fingering her. she couldn’t form proper words, so she simply tightened her grip on your hand more, as a way to say it back.

then, once you picked up a stable pace for a few minutes, her back arched against you, her breathing getting heavier, practically panting. her hand’s grip on yours getting tighter, you felt her hot breath hit your neck once she settled her head into the crook of it.

“y/n— baby i think i’m- i’m— mmh—“

that was the moment she reached climax, letting out a long and loud moan as she rode out her orgasm, bucking her hips against your hand before smashing her lips onto yours. quietly, she let a few i love yous slip out of her mouth between kisses, her hand resting on your head, fingers intertwined with your soft hair. 

you particularly made sure to say it back to her every time.

you pulled out your fingers and took your hand out of her pants. still coming down from her high, she smiled at you with tired eyes and kissed your cheek. you smiled back, looking at her lovingly.

“d-did i do okay?” 

she giggled, “..are you seriously asking me that? do you not see me right now?” 

you raised your eyebrows, playful, “for all i know you were faking it.”

“yeah, actually.. i was faking it, especially with how wet i was from the whole thing. aren’t i such a good actor y/n? it’s almost like i legitimately came really hard—”

“shut up.” you elbowed her, laughing. she gave you a cheeky smile before she got up from the bed, grabbed a pair of new underwear from her drawer and opened the bedroom door, heading straight towards the living room to pet her dogs after changing. 

“hey y/n?”

“hm?”

“…wanna bake brownies in a bit?” 

“uhm.. yes? what kind of question is that?? let me just go wash my hands first.” you replied, getting up and walking towards the bathroom before adding on, “unless you wanna eat very unsanitary cum-buttered brownies, of course—“

you heard her contagious laugh from across the hallway, making you smile to yourself, “you’re fucking disgusting— go wash your hands, you weirdo!”

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

switching the positions

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food

word count: 16.2k

moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡

a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

SUNDAY

"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not gonna hate you.”

Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away. 

Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.

“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.

“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.

“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?” 

He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.

“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”

Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it. 

“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?” 

You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.

“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”

He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.” 

So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.

MONDAY

"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."

It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.

You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays. 

Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.

Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—

And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets. 

It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief. 

“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.

His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.

You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.

Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life. 

But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again. 

“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.” 

The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately. 

“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.

“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.

“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.

"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.

"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"

You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect. 

The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.

You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.

"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."

He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.

Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most. 

You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.

"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."

"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."

So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.

Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—

Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.

"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."

A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth. 

"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.

"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—

The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.

"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."

You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.

Neither of you makes it to work on time.

TUESDAY

"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."

The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.

You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.

“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.

“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.

“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.

“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.

“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless. 

It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too. 

“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her. 

It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself. 

You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.

“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack. 

…Wait. She’s leaving?

“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”

“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”

You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder. 

“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!” 

And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.

You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.

Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best. 

Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.

The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.

There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship. 

Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.

Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.

You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good. 

You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise. 

“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”

Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit. 

Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.

And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.

“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”

He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen. 

“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.

“Good. It’s dinner time.”

WEDNESDAY

"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."

Spin class sucks.

There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.

It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this. 

It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun. 

But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.

No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it. 

There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.

The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative. 

It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.

Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.

Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him. 

What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats. 

Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you. 

That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.

The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are. 

Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all. 

You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.

"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"

You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far. 

On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.

It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.

“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."

Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core. 

You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.

Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.

"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"

His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it. 

Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.

Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.

"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."

And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars. 

Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful. 

Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—

But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.

"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"

Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.

"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.

"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.

"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine." 

Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him. 

You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.

All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—

But he's got one last edge left in him. 

You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.

He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.

"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively. 

Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you. 

But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.

You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.

"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need. 

You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs. 

Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?

But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself. 

Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.

“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."

You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?

"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.

He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.

"Wanna explain what all of that was?"

"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."

"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense. 

You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.

"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"

"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!" 

But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.

"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.

"That's okay. We won't need one."

THURSDAY

"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"

Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.

You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.

How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.

Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.

It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option. 

Two blue lines. Pregnant.

You knew this week was going a little too well. 

Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.

Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought. 

Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this. 

It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.

There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.

Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point. 

You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before? 

Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight. 

Fuck.

Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.

But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar. 

Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?

No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.

If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable. 

Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.

So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken. 

Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.

“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”

She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken. 

“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”

The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.

Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.

It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.  

"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"

Yeah, you could say that.

You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.

"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you. 

His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you. 

Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering. 

That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.

Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.

But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.

His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm. 

But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.

“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.

“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”

Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.

The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.

“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells. 

“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”

“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone. 

Together. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”

FRIDAY

"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."

Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.

You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk. 

“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.” 

You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.

Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer. 

Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that. 

You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up. 

Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes. 

Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur. 

Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time. 

You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.

Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.

Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand. 

But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer. 

“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”

You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck. 

“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips. 

Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans. 

You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere. 

Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.

But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”

You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.

“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, baby."

Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction. 

Now, you want something else. 

You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either. 

His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all. 

Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.

"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."

Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken. 

Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration. 

He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.

Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie. 

"Should ya be doin' that right now?" 

There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.

"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"

The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.

"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"

You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.

"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."

"Deal," he says without hesitation.

"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening. 

He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.

"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."

Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.

"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart. 

You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.

Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open. 

"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit. 

Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast. 

Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap. 

"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"

You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—

Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically. 

"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.

What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now. 

And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.

Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric. 

He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.

"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."

"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."

He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.

"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."

But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.

"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.

You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something. 

"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his. 

You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation. 

"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now." 

Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.

His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back. 

So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.

"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.

"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."

Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead. 

"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."

Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough. 

Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.

“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you. 

It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.

But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.

"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.

Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.

Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.

And still so mouthy.

“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”

"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?" 

It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.

"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."

Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight. 

His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.

“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”

“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?” 

Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.

“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”

SATURDAY

"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."

You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.

And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.

Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content. 

He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs. 

That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.

But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.

He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.

His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once. 

Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you. 

"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens. 

"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"

You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers. 

Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.

"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.

"Huh?" you ask dumbly. 

"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh. 

"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.

"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"

And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.

God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.

Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.

"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."  

Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath. 

You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement. 

He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you. 

But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.

You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.

“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"

Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.

“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”

Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.

Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves. 

His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip. 

The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him. 

And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat. 

You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.

"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."

How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.

Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite. 

But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment. 

And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking. 

Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.

“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”

It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.

At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.

His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again. 

Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation. 

Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.

Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.

“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach. 

Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.

"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away. 

His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.

It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives. 

“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.” 

You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.

“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”

He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful. 

When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free. 

Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.

Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.

Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.

He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately. 

After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.

"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."

The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache. 

You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.

Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth. 

"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."

He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."

You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.

Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.

"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"

Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that. 

His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does. 

Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.

You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would. 

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.

You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could. 

It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

thanks for reading! 💕

[supernaturalgirl20]

Hi, I would love to request a Joel fic. I love your work and appreciate all of the effort you put into your work.

I’d love something where reader and Joel have always tried to keep their distance from each other because they don’t want to get emotionally attached. But one night they’re drinking alone and reader kind of confesses her feelings without thinking. And Joel doesn’t really know how to respond.

So the next morning he acts like he doesn’t remember because he’s afraid to be with someone. And it hurts reader’s feelings, but she just doesn’t bring it up.

Until one evening they’re on a run together and they stay in a safe house for the night and reader can’t distract herself anymore and she confronts him. Maybe it turns into a passionate fight where he admits he remembered but was too scared to say how he felt.

Maybe ending with some steamy smut with a soft ending? I love a good pining/angst/smut combo and I think you’d absolutely kill this. Of course no pressure if you’re not into it! Thank you for doing what you do and I hope you have a lovely day!

Thank you so much you’re so sweet 🥹🥰 Absolutely loved this request. I changed it up just slightly but I hope you enjoy 😉

Trying Not To Love You

Pairings: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, mutual pining, oral (female receiving), hidden feelings, confessions, flirting, jealousy, little bit of angst, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

You were feeling the light buzz from the alcohol tickle beneath the surface of your skin, the whiskey warming you from the inside out as it slid smoothly down your throat. As soon as Tommy had left the tipsy bison, Joel had cracked open the good stuff. 

It was a rare occasion that you’d both get this time alone, especially since arriving back at Jackson a few months ago. You were both either out on patrol or too tired to do anything other than sleep. 

“I still can’t believe this is our life now,” you say as you sit at the bar sipping on your drink. Joel hums in agreement, shifting on his stool so he’s facing you.

 “Feels too good to be true, doesn’t it? Doesn't seem right neither, us here livin’ a normal life while the world is gone to shit.” You can feel his eyes on you as he speaks and god the sound of his voice - that deep southern drawl that gets more prominent when he drinks - stirs something in you. 

“I know what you mean but we’ve earned it Joel. All the shit we’ve been through, this is what we deserve.” 

“I guess. Just makes me on edge knowing it could all be gone in the blink of an eye.” He downs his drink and leans across the bar to pour himself another. 

You use the opportunity to take him in. The way his hair has grown slightly longer, curling at the ends, a significantly more amount of grey littering his dark locks since Boston. The stretch of his plaid shirt across his broad back and shoulders. The sun kissed skin that peeks out from under his shirt at his neck. 

Your gaze drifts to his hands and the way the bottle seems so small in comparison. You shiver at the memory of how those very hands gripped your hips last night as he drove into you from behind. 

“God, I love you,” you whisper, freezing when you see the way his shoulders tense. Fuck! I didn’t mean to say that out loud. 

You were never supposed to feel like this. Weren’t supposed to fall in love. Sure, you both enjoyed each other’s company and fucked when the need arose but that’s as far as it went. You both tried to keep it simple. No living together. No feelings. Just casual. It was easier that way because you had nothing to lose then. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. 

“I - I, you….” He stammers as he pours himself more whiskey before turning to you with a wry smile and topping yours up too. “Ellie seems to be settling in just fine,” he stated, quickly changing the subject, his eyes avoiding your gaze at all costs. 

“Yeah,” you coughed, the whiskey getting caught with your breath. “She’s eh - she’s made some friends. It’s nice, seeing her happy.” 

Joel didn’t say much after that, just nodding his head or humming in agreement and when the bottle was gone, you both got up to leave. “G’night.” He muttered as he turned away from you and walked towards his house. 

“Night,” you whisper as you wait for him to disappear inside before letting out a sigh and making your way home. Why did you have to fall in love with him?

***

The following morning you had patrol bright and early and as you made your way towards the main gate, you caught a glimpse of Joel standing off to the side having a very animated conversation with Julie.

Of course, she’s with him. She’d been smitten with Joel since you all arrived in Jackson. You weren’t in the mood for this today. You weren’t in the mood for her today. You didn’t get much sleep last night, unable to get what you’d said out of your head. Why didn’t he say anything? Does he not feel the same?  Did he even hear me? 

You’d planned to address it this morning and clear the air, not wanting to make things awkward between you both. So, taking a deep breath, you sidle up beside him not missing the glare Julie sends your way as you gently touch his arm, drawing his attention to you. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at him and his face morphs into that scowl you’ve come to love. “Can I have a word?” 

Joel nods before turning back to Julie and saying that he would see her later. “Somethin’ wrong, darlin’?” 

God, I love when he calls me that. 

“I just wanted to talk about last night. What I said…I…” Joel furrows his brows as he leans against the fence. “Darlin, I’m ashamed to say, I don’t remember much bout last night. That was some strong whiskey,” he laughs, his eyes meeting yours briefly as he looks around at the others gathering at the gate. 

“Oh! Okay. Umm, then never mind I guess.” You feel as if you’ve been stabbed in the gut as your stomach twists into knots. He doesn’t even fucking remeber. Of course, he doesn’t. 

“Come on. Best get goin’, we want to be back before nightfall.” Joel pushes off the fence and walks towards the main gate, not bothering to throw you a backward glance as he makes his way out of the town. 

Your heart aches, feeling almost like you’ve been rejected but at least this meant that you could both carry on as if nothing happened. Right?

***

Her laugh was shrill as she looked down at her feet, twirling that strand of hair between her fingers as she walked beside Joel. 

You roll your eyes for the third time and huff loudly as you watch her flirt with him. The man was oblivious. Alway has been, never believing you or Ellie when you say that someone was flirting with him. 

“You and him have a fight?” Tommy asks as he jogs up beside you, trying to keep up the pace. “Hmm?” You mutter as you keep your gaze focused on the man in front of you. The smile he has plastered across his face makes you nauseous.

“You two are usually joined at the hip. He never leaves your side and now he’s up there with….”

“Miss Jackson 2023.” Your tone is clipped and the scowl on your face deepens. Tommy bursts into laughter causing Joel and Julie to turn their gaze in your direction. 

“Who pissed in your cereal this mornin?” Tommy asked, a wide smile on his face as he nudged your shoulder. You let your gaze drift from Joel to Tommy and you can’t help but let out a little chuckle. 

“M’sorry. Just didn’t sleep much last night. Me and Joel are…we’re good.” Tommy hummed as he let his eyes drift between you and his brother, not missing the way Joel’s gaze lingered on you. 

“If you say so. Come on,” he states as he pushes forward, leaving you trailing behind. “Fucking Millers,” you mutter under your breath as you jog after him. 

Later that night, you waited for Joel in your dining room. Dinner was waiting on the stove to be heated as soon as he came but as the hours ticked by, you began to realise he wasn’t coming. 

That ache in your chest that you had earlier when you saw him smiling at Julie began to creep in again. Where was he? He always came for dinner on Friday night. It had become somewhat of a tradition since living in Jackson. You’d both have dinner here and then somehow find yourself in your bed, wrapped in each other's arms. 

The voice in your head told you to go to the Tipsy Bison and see if he was there with her, but with a sigh, you turn out your lights and have an early night. 

Maybe he’ll come here tomorrow?

***

He didn’t show Saturday either. Or Sunday and when Monday rolled around, you’d gone from feeling sorry for yourself to downright angry. 

What the fuck was he playing at? Why was he being so distant?

Grabbing your bag, you throw it over your shoulders and make your way down the street to the main gate. Tommy had come by the day before to ask if you’d be willing to make a special run for medical supplies to which you happily agreed, as long as it wasn’t with Joel. 

Fixing your knife into your belt, you’re startled when you hear that familiar southern drawl. “Hope you brought your gun too, darlin?” Joel stood to the side of the gate with Tommy. 

Both Miller brother’s gaze were fixed on you but yours was only focused on Tommy, who you greeted with a scowl. 

“What’re you doing here?” You ask as your eyes drift back to Joel, that ache in your chest returning with a vengeance. 

“I told ya before, I don’t feel comfortable with you going on runs without me.” He’s staring at you, but his face gives nothing away which only serves to anger you more. 

“I don’t need no damn babysitter, Joel. I can handle it. Besides, Jason was gonna be tagging along.” You stood with your hands crossed across your chest, eyes narrowed as you snarked at him. 

“Never said you needed a babysitter. I know you’re more than capable of handlin things, but you know I ain’t ever able to sit still when you head out without me.”

“Surprised you’d even notice,” you muttered under your breath. “Fine. If you’re insisting on coming, then let’s head out. I wanna be home before dark.” You turn with a finger pointed to Tommy. “You. I’m gonna be having a word with you when I get back.”

You turn and march off leaving both Miller men staring after you. “Good luck with that,” Tommy says, clapping his big brother on the back. Joel scoffs as he turns to follow you. 

***

You could cut the awkward tension with a knife and every time you snuck a glance at Joel, you found him already staring at you. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. 

“I think we’ve got pretty much everything on the list, we should start making our way back.” You state as you turn away from the shelf, stuffing the antibiotics into your bag. 

Joel’s keeping watch, his gaze fixed out the window and gun cocked, and you can’t help but admire him. No. You gotta stop this. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath before closing the gap between you. 

He startles when you gently place your hand on his arm. “Did you hear me? We’ve got everything we need.” His gaze holds your own for a moment and you wish he felt the same way you did. 

Clearing his throat, he steps back slightly, your hand falling away from him, and you pull it towards your chest before swallowing the lump in your throat. 

He steps around you and opens the door slowly, scanning the area before ushering you outside. You’re both halfway down the street when you make out distant voices. 

“Fuck.” He curses as his head moves toward the sound. Five men emerge from the tree line and he grabs you by the arm and pulls you along behind him. 

“Joel,” you say nervously as he continues to pull you along. His grip getting tighter on your arm and hurting you. “What - what are we gonna do? They’re blocking the way home.”

He doesn’t answer. He just continues to move through the small town quickly as he tries to get you both to safety. He turns abruptly and you gasp. 

“Tommy has a safe house nearby. We’re gonna have to stay the night and wait it out.” His face is stern, but you can see the hint of worry in his eyes as they scan your face. 

You look over your shoulder, seeing some of the men making their way to the pharmacy and Joel gently whispers your name. 

“We can’t take them on. We’re outnumbered. I ain’t risking it. I ain’t risking you.” Your breathing becomes ragged, and his hand gently caresses your cheek. “Come on, darlin’. We gotta go.” He grabs your hand in his and moves you quickly through the town, making sure to stay out of sight before you both disappear through the trees. 

***

Night has fallen and Joel is out back grabbing some wood for the stove while you heat up some canned pasta. You’d argued that it was too dangerous to light a fire, but he’d said the cabin was too far out for anyone to see the smoke. 

It beats having to huddle for warmth, you think to yourself as you stir the pot. He pushes open the door and throws a log into the stove before moving up behind you. 

“Smells good,” he hums, his breath hot on your neck as his hand brushes along your lower back. “It’s almost done. You can sit by the fire. I’ll bring it over in a minute.”

Glancing at him over your shoulder, you see he has taken his boots off and your heart aches at the sight of him looking so relaxed. The cabin and the fire and the two of you alone it’s so domestic and that makes it hurt even more.

Handing him his bowl of pasta, you take a seat on the couch beside him as you both tuck into dinner. 

It’s quiet. Too quiet and normally it doesn't bother you. Joel is always kind of quiet, but this is different. There’s an awkward tension in the air and you begin to feel claustrophobic. 

You can feel his eyes on you, and it just gets to be too much. “Stop,” you shout as you stand abruptly, turning to face him. 

“What are you talking about, darlin?” He scoots to the edge of the couch, hands held up as if in surrender. 

“Don’t darlin’ me, Joel. Ugh…. I can’t do this anymore.” You clench your hands into fist as they hang at your side and begin to storm off toward the bedroom. 

His hand on your arm stops you though as he slowly steps around the couch to face you. “Baby,” he whispers as he places both his hands on your cheeks. “Talk to me.”

“No! No, you don’t get to do that to me Joel. You don’t get to ignore me for the last four days and then come here and start calling me baby. I’m not your baby. Or your darlin’ and you made that pretty fucking clear the other night when you completely ignored what I said.”

Something shifts behind his eyes, and you know you were right all along about that night. “I don’t….” He mutters but you're quick to cut him off. 

“Oh, pull the other one. I know you heard me that night at the bar. I know you heard me say I love you and you made me fucking think you were too drunk to remember. Jesus, Joel. Do I really mean so little to you?”

He shakes his head, but you don’t want to know what he has to say, not anymore. You pull out of his grasp and try to hold back the sobs as you make your way into the only bedroom. 

“Shit.” You can hear him curse before the sound of his footsteps echo behind you. 

“You’re right. I did hear you and the reason I didn’t say anything that night was because I was scared. I am scared. We’ve been together since Boston and in that time, I’ve grown to care about you. I’ve - fuck, I love you, alright. I fucking love you and it scares the shit outta me because if anythin were to happen to you, it would break me.” 

His breathing was ragged as tears shimmered in his eyes. You stood staring at him in shock at what he’d just confessed, and you could feel your heart swell at his words.

“I love you, baby, and I’m sorry for how I behaved that night, for how I’ve been behavin. I thought I could let you go but I can’t, and I don’t want neither. Think you can forgive this old fool?” 

You chuckle, unable to believe that you both are such idiots, and you can see the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile as he slowly moves towards you. His hand reaches out, wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. 

“Well, what do ya say,” he asks as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “I think I can forgive you, as long as you promise to never ignore me again.”

He rests his forehead head against yours, his eyes closing as he lets out a contented sigh. “I swear it, baby. Can I kiss you now?”

His eyes are open now and staring down at you and you feel like you’re on cloud nine. Nodding your head he places his hand under your chin and tilts your mouth towards his own before kissing you. 

Is this really happening? 

It’s soft at first. His lips gently caress yours until he licks along your bottom lip. When your tongues meet it’s as if you’re two horny teenagers unable to get enough of each other. His hands grab at your ass, and you squeal when he places his hands around your thighs and lifts you.  

You wrap your legs around his waist, and he walks you over to the bed, laying you down gently. 

Joel is quick to rid you of your clothes, the rough pads of his fingers skimming along your curves. His own clothes join yours on the floor shortly after. His eyes glaze over with lust as he stands at the edge of the bed taking in your naked form. “So, fucking beautiful baby,” he breaths, his voice husky with need. 

You rest your head on the pillows and watch as he crawls up the bed towards you, his lips trailing light kisses along your legs and thighs. 

“What are you doing, Joel?”  His gaze moves along your naked curves until it meets yours. “Gotta make it up to ya darlin,” he rasps and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

 His breath is hot on your skin as he hovers over your aching cunt. His tongue glides along your slick as he teases you. Lifting your hips you plead with him, desperately needing him to touch you. “Please!”

He raises a brow and smiles at you before me burying his face into your curls. “Ooh!” You moan as your back arches off the bed, hands finding purchase in his hair. He moves your legs over his shoulders and buries his tongue inside you.

You writhe beneath him as pleasure begins to build. He alternates between licking and sucking and shoving his tongue inside you that you are a complete and utter mess on the bed below him. That familiar heat begins to form, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to that edge.  

“Oh God,” you moan, as your orgasm rips through you. Your body shudders as you come down from your high. 

“Taste so sweet, darlin,” he says as he moves up your body, peppering light kisses along your skin. He’s flush against you, the tip of him nudging at your entrance and with one roll of his hips, he stretches you open. He groans loudly as he fills you to the hilt, his eyes closed as he tries to calm himself, desperately hoping he doesn’t cum within two minutes. 

Once he has control of himself, he begins to rock into you, his cock pulling out to the tip before pushing back in. You're already sensitive from your earlier orgasm and the way he’s stimulating your clit with his cock has you whimpering beneath him. 

His hands grip onto your waist, fingers digging into your soft skin as he sits back onto his knees, pulling you to with him so you’re sat atop him. 

He holds you down with his right hand as he pistons his hips up into you, his left kneading your breast as he pulls your pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucks. Your head falls back between your shoulders as you cry out his name. “Joel.”

Clenching around him, he groans - his head resting between your breasts, the feeling of you wrapped around him making him dizzy.

His hands grip your hips as you begin to move with him - rolling your hips over him. You shudder in his arms as your cunt clenched around him once again - his trusts become erratic as he nears the edge.

He grips your hips and lifts you off him as he cums, coating your thighs with his release. As much as you’d love him to finish inside you, you know that it’s too risky.

His eyes are staring at your thighs. At where he’s marked you with his spend. “So pretty,” he mutters as he lifts his gaze toward you. “I love you darlin.”

“I love you too. I’m gonna need to have a shower after that,” you giggle and he pulls you into him, kissing your lips softly. 

“How about I run us a bath? Sound good?” He smiles at you, moving a start piece of hair behind your ear. 

“That sounds like heaven.”

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[rafesfavbimbo]

Ok but this part in the fic ‘“go on. Take your time.” He then spins her around and urges her with a soft pat on her back to which y/n turns her head to look back at him.’

I’m not gonna lie, I half expected him to spank her. Like those little pats you know which ones I mean? But then I realized its probably too soon.

Stepdaughter’s definitely loving the revenge like “you left me for all of this and now I’m gonna be the one that takes it from you”.

You can’t tell me she’s not a little shit though, she’s gonna play this up even more with Rafe. “I don’t like you fighting daddy, I can change I won’t wear these clothes anymore and I won’t call you daddy if that’s what makes you fight” Obviously Rafe is not gonna allow that

God I love stepdaughter.

I’m not even going to lie I was thinking about it *bites lip* but mom would have fainted and they haven’t even crossed any lines except for very obscure affection between them…YET. I can’t wait till we get to the point where they start crossing big boundaries (especially in public) ssssshhh….

Absolutely! Stepdaughter!Reader is angry, resentful and bitter towards her mom. She’s disillusioned by the fact that her mom has been living so well off while she was struggling back home and with a deadbeat father. She wants everything that she believes is rightfully hers, starting with Rafe and eventually Rafe starts feeling her same sentiment to the fullest if it isn’t clear already.

She’s definitely cunning and scheming. She wants her mom to know that just because all of sudden she wants to be a mom she’s not going to give her that so easily if at all. Mom isn’t a good person herself. She’s only nice to her daughter because she’s her blood but she’s as snobby, classist and self-centered as they come. Stepdaughter!Reader went almost 20 years just knowing her through a minimal check (even though she’s always had the money to provide her with more) and basic postcards her mom couldn’t even bother to write in. She’s hurt and rightfully so. She wants Rafe all to herself and she’s going to have him one way or another. Rafe doesn’t really mind either, he’s proudly wrapped around her finger and even starts feeling the same rancor and way more against his wife the more he gets to know his darling girl. Even more with the way passion, besottedness and pure love begins blossoming between them.

They’re not soulmates for no reason. Cut from the same cloth and meant to be regardless of whatever comes their way. Rafe’s wife was just a stepping stone into them meeting as destined unfortunately (for her.) Even Rafe deciding to marry her was just a play by the universe. The love he has for his wife is just an extension of the love he has for her daughter (it was unknown to him till now) and now that she’s in his clutches his wife has no place anymore. Everything was meant to fall into place for them to come together, and we’ll have to see where they end up…

[miloformula123fan]

Full fic??

I’ve read that Logan S. felt really lonely being the only American in F1. Like, he wasn’t completely accepted in the grid. Maybe he has an overprotective older sister who is a professional soccer player (like World Cup level good) who finally has time to attend his races. She dislikes most of the grid, except Alex and Oscar, for how they treated her brother. quick to defend Logan and even as far as annihilate them during the annual driver soccer match to prove a point. Im thinking G. Russel pairing due to Logan living in England. he wins her over by treating logan right, acknowledging he could have been welcoming, etc. Just a thought!

OKAY I HONESTLY LOVED THIS! IT WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE (let me know if you want a part 2, because it is a bit of an interesting ending haha)

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

edit: i wrote part 2 - it is here

part 3 is here

George Russell x reader, logan sargeant x sister!reader

---

Y/N loves her brother, she really does. Yeah, she’s tried to get to a few of his F2 rounds, but with her soccer taking her around the world, she has had very little time. She has the entire month off though, so what better to do than visit her brother at his home grand prix. Miami is always a party, so maybe she could let loose for a bit, try and relax, and find a guy.

This is quickly vetoed when she finds Logan cooped up in his drivers room. While most people would think that he was excited for the race, most people weren’t Logan’s sister. She could tell he was thinking too hard about something, and it wasn’t good.

“Hey Logie Bear! Whatcha thinking about?” She tried to appear happy, but she could see that Logan’s smile did not reach his eyes

“Nothing, just excited for the race, the car is quick, just aiming for some points, hoping for a safety car. The garage is over there, sorry I have to warm up.” Y/N looked up as Benny entered the room and Logan stood up. She could tell how closed up he was, how he didn’t want to talk at all

“Okay, we’ll talk after the race Logan! Good luck, you'll smash it!” Y/N walked out of the drivers room towards the garage seeing the chaos of it.

Y/N watched as Logan apologised over again and again to his engineer for not making up any more places. She stood there listening to his engineer reassure her younger brother. She eventually decided that she couldn’t listen to it anymore and decided to wait in his garage room.

When he walked in, Y/N could tell he wasn’t sure whether to throw stuff or cry. 

“Hey, hey, come here! It’s okay, it’s okay!” She opened her arms and sat down as Logan fell down into them and hugged her baby brother, as he started talking the words just rushed out

“I just wanted to prove that I deserve to be here, feel like I’m a part of the paddock.” Logan hugged his sister back tightly, hesitating slightly.

“What do you mean? Of course you’re a part of the paddock, you’ve got your seat, y’know?” Y/N was confused as to what her brother meant, from what she had seen, he was welcomed warmly by everyone.

“Yeah but, I’m never invited to the grid parties, no one really ever talks to me, except Alex and Oscar, and Oscar is getting into the rest of the grid through Lando, and Alex is only really talking to me because I mean, he’s my teammate we have to be friends, and I just want everyone to like me… so I thought maybe if I got some points and good overtakes, then people would like me..”

“Oh, Logie… It’ll be okay. If they don’t like you then I think they’re just idiots, but they won’t. They’ll warm up to you, I promise.”

---

George watched as Y/N sprinted up and down. Okay the F1 team was never going to win, particularly when multiple women who were playing in the world cup were playing on the opposition team, but ‘Sargeant’  (who also had the same name as the rookie driver this year, who was sitting in the stands) was dominating, she had more goals then all of the f1 team, so of course the celebrity team won 4-1. She’d almost immediately jumped into the stands once the referee blew the whistle and started talking to Logan, maybe the kid got married young and just didn’t want anyone to realise. 

Although she looked quite similar to Logan, so maybe his sister instead. Either way, she did not seem to like them, she called them all dickheads and shoved them over a few times. George’s knees were sore. But she was still pretty. So he approached Logan and the girl.

“Hello! I’m George and…’

“I’m pretty sure my brother knows your name, Georgie! Why don’t you say hello to him?”

“Y/N-”

“No. Say hi to Logan, George.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, almost forced.

“Hey Logan! Looking forward to the grand prix this weekend?”

“Uhhhh… yeah. ” He turned back to Y/N “I’ve got some stuff to do, so you can make your way back. See ya!”

As soon as Logan was out of listening range, Y/N pulled George in and started whispering, “Listen, I don’t know what problem you have my brother, but you need to get over it ASAP, understood?”

“I.. don’t have a problem with your brother.”

“Well, then why is he telling me that there have been 2 people, Oscar and Alex, who have actually welcomed him to F1. Everyone else has snubbed him and he doesn’t understand why you don’t like him. He’s lonely. So fucking sort your shit out.”

George stood there, mouth gaping as she stormed off to grab her bag and then sprinted after Logan. He could almost hear the f1 team laughing at his failed attempt at flirting, but all he could think about ‘was what she said true?’’

---

Y/N was going to cry.

She could see Logan in the family and friends box, hands over his mouth, eyes glassy.

That corner kick should’ve gone in, she thought, we had so many chances and we still fucked it all. Couldn’t even give Megs a proper farewell.

She walks slowly over to her younger brother and let his arms wrap around her

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Dragged you halfway ‘round the world when you should’ve been training only to lose the first game.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. Go pack up, we can head home and spend some time in London relaxing. I’ve got next week off before I need to be back in the factory.”

—

Y/N was awoken by a knock on the front door. Hearing Logan snoring from his bedroom, she got up off the couch, rubbing her eyes and opened the door.

Of all the people she was expecting to see, George Russell would’ve been just about the last on her list “Uhh, hey?”

“Oh, morning! Is your brother up?”

Y/n paused for a moment to let George hear the snores coming from Logan’s bedroom. “Yeah, no, sorry. I can pass on a message?”

“Oh, No I was just going to offer if he was still up to go on a morning jog with him, but as he isn’t…”

“You been doing this often?”

“Almost every week we’ve been in town. I don’t think he understands what or why I’m doing this. But, he’s a good kid, opens up a bit when you talk to him. He likes you, respects you a lot for 2 siblings pursuing their sport across the globe.”

“I’ll make some breakfast and you can stay til Logan wakes up, okay? As a thanks for looking out for him. Hard for me to do from across the globe.” Y/N looked tense, with an almost forced smile. She looked awkward, before stepping back, holding the door open so George could come in.

---

“LOGAN SARGEANT!”

“Hello, dear sister, what do you want?”

“YOU GOT POINTS!”

“I think you must have watched a different grand prix, I got P12.”

“Hamilton and Leclerc got disqualified, something about wood, but you got points!”

“OH MY! AHHH! I had no idea, oh god!”

“YEAH! MY LITTLE BRO FINALLY GETTING F1 POINTS! WOOHOO! We must celebrate when we’re both in town!”

“AHH! Shit, wait I think people are coming in, give me a sec.

You’re on speaker dear sis, Alex, Oscar and George are here.”

“HELLO OSCAR! HI ALEX! HI GEORGE! DID SOMEONE BRING CHAMPAGNE???”

---

Y/N looks at the buzzing phone on her bedside table. Well clearly she had grabbed Logan’s phone before bed last night. She looked at the contact name

‘George - probably calling about something from the GDPA.’

She picked up.

“Before you start talking, I’m not Logan and I have not signed any NDAs related to his contract so, don’t talk to me.”

“Hi Y/N, do you know where Logan is?” George’s voice was way too cheery for however fucking early it is right now.

“Yeah he’s in his bedroom, he grabbed my phone and I grabbed his, why?” Y/N swung her legs out of the bed and stood up, still rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, can you come answer the door?”

“The door, why?” Y/N got up, and walked to her front door and opened the door to …nothing.

“George, are you pulling a prank on me? There’s nothing at the door.”

“You haven’t opened the door!”

“George… Logan and I are in Florida for Christmas. I’m guessing you’re in London.”

“Oh…yes. Bugger. I came to congratulate him on his contract renewal and so now I’ve got food and flowers and stuff and he’s not here!”

“If you go round the block to 20 XXX Close, there’s a single mom there, who will appreciate some Christmas cheer Georgie.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll send it over.”

“Why were you congratulating Logan, George? I didn’t think you cared. Only Alex and Oscar have reached out so far.”

“I..I remember what you said at the soccer match, about Logan feeling ostracised by all of us. So I’ve been trying to make him feel welcomed… not just because you said that, and I like you, but also because I kinda realised we’d all be failing him as a grid, so i thought if I started it, maybe others would catch on. It didn’t work, but I think he feels more included.”

“That’s very nice of you Georgie. I’ll pass on your congrats. Now it’s like 7am here, and I didn’t need to be awake today, so i will be heading back to bed. Night Georgie boy.”

[angelicdanvers]

BREATHE DEEPER | four.

a charlie bushnell x fem!reader social media fic.

y/n

liked by iamcharliebushnell, levizmiller, dior.n.goodjohn, and others

y/n — australia’s my new fav country

tagged | levizmiller

levizmiller i’m challenging you to another round of pool tonight ↳ y/n bet

iamcharliebushnell when’d you go to australia? 😭 ↳ y/n when u didn’t show up for acai bowls >:( ↳ iamcharliebushnell im sowwy ↳ y/n DONT YOU DARE ↳ iamcharliebushnell okok sorry but thought you'd be in london ↳ y/n soon, yeah :')

levizmiller y/n im gonna poke you ↳ y/n okayy hi ↳ levizmiller let’s get boba ↳ y/n YES

dior.n.goodjohn I MISS U COME BACK TO ME ↳ y/n once my australian chronicles are over i promise i will <3 ↳ dior.n.goodjohn WOOOO

walker.scobell youre pretty! ↳ y/n thanks lil dude!

i.am.andrewalvarez AUSSIEEE ↳ y/n THE SWEET ESCAPE FR

aryansimhadri DID YOU SEE KANGAROOS ↳ y/n NO NOT YET THOUGH I HOPE I DO

dailymail Y/n and Levi? ;)

user omg bf reveal happening??

user2 ive never held my breath this much

“GALILEO’S GALS” — 5 notifications!

chanel’s enemy Y/N

lee lee Y/N

dr dre why am i in this gc

chanel’s enemy because u are

lee lee we’re getting off topic Y/NNN CMERE

↳ hiiiii?

chanel’s enemy HIIII HRU ILY

↳ ILY TOO BAE IM GOOD WBU

chanel’s enemy WE GOOD WE HAVE SOME ?’s THO

↳ oh?

lee lee ARE YOU AND LEVI DATING

dr dre OHH THIS MAKES SENSE YEAH ARE YOU??

↳ nooooo

chanel’s enemy that’s a very interesting no

↳ we’re not but idk

chanel’s enemy what

lee lee girl wdym

↳ we’re not dating but i think he likes me? idk

dr dre do you like him back though???

↳ eh he’s very sweet but i’ve always seen him as a best friend, i don’t think we could be more

lee lee do you want to be more??

↳ i mean, i’d give him a chance if he asked? but it’s not anything i’m particularly into or wanting

chanel’s enemy okay that helps

↳ uhhh why

dr dre well if my sleepy ass remembers correctly, everyone and their mother are wondering if you’re dating

↳ nah that aint possible

lee lee it is, stupid dailymail picked up on it first 💀

↳ my manager’s asleep, no wonder she hasn’t updated me lol oh well idgaf they can think what they want

chanel’s enemy but even walker and charlie are 😭

↳ they’re gonna forget it in t-minus four secs it’s fine

dr dre whatever you say, ma’am but are you sure that ‘cryptic’ caption won’t cause any issues??

↳ uhh andrew you’re scaring me

dr dre what if someone likes you? like like-likes you and knows you and gets hella jealous or doubtful? and not saying charlie does but he was raving about how he might finally get to hang out with you, ONE ON ONE. what if he thinks he can't because he thinks you two are dating?

↳ bro first off ik you don’t like me, neither does aryan and i know its DEFINITELY not walker

lee lee girl he had a celeb crush on you a few years ago dont tell him i told u that

chanel’s enemy LMFAOOOO but no andrew has a point how come you didn’t mention charlie? 🤨

dr dre yeah i was just aboutta say 🤨 especially after my little analysis?

↳ SECONDLY, guys, charlie doesn’t. not one bit and that’s obvious, like he isn’t even in considerations. i understand what he may feel but he has nothing to worry about. he knows i won't ditch him or anything lol (right?) but if anything the only person that’d be a little confused or whatnot is william

chanel’s enemy WHAT?? AS IN WILLIAM FRANKLYN MILLER??

lee lee huh 😃

↳ we dated for a month back when we were 15 or so and realized we were way better off as friends

lee lee why ?

↳ idk i think i was just jealous of lily 😭 but anyways we’ve been just friends since and i’m completely happy with that. i don't see him romantically anymore, yeah he’s hot but like nah. but yeah if he was confused, it's probably because i was best friends with levi when we dated too and might question if he was the cause of our split?? AGAIN THATS IF HE OVERTHINKS IT

dr dre i feel like i’m reading an autobiographical analysis you definitely are fond towards “millers”

↳ ur welcome <333 and NO i am not

chanel’s enemy okok so we got several people who’d be jealous

↳ WHAT WDYM SEVERAL I ONLY LISTED ONE

lee lee ain’t no way you’re ignoring charlie

↳ DUDES I REALLY DONT THINK HE LIKES ME

dr dre but there could be a possibility? just don’t rule him out

↳ bro he doesn't like me 😭 but yeah trust me everything’s gonna be okay again i dont like anyone and no one likes me, and we'll make sure it's obvious i'm single in case anyone does though that may take a while... ANYWAYS

lee lee suuuuure you should hang out with charlie btw

↳ idk why but im scared to 😭

lee lee but you need to he misses you a lot yk

↳ doesn’t change the fact that im SCARED

lee lee WHY WOULD YOU BE SCARED ITS JUST CHARLIE

↳ IDK I JUST DONT WANNA SEEM STUPID OR UNATTRACTIVE AND SHIT

lee lee HE FLIRTS WITH YOU ALL THE TIME AND MESSES UP JUST AS MUCH, YOURE NOT THE EMBARRASSING ONE HERE

↳ DUDE I KNOW I CAN BE AND I DONT WANNA DRIVE HIM AWAY

dr dre sure you and levi hang out and are sweet and shit but BRO the teeth rotting sugar is you and charlie in your damn COMMENTS

↳ ITS NOT THAT BAD, IS IT?? 😭 GOD I HOPE CHARLIE DOESNT THINK OF ME ANY DIFFERENTLY

chanel’s enemy i think u like charlie, miss girl

↳ NO

dr dre nah, they’d be cute together, even charlie said so himself

chanel’s enemy you dumbass

dr dre uhhh ANYWAYS said too much im gonna sleep again love youse

lee lee BRO yeah night babes <3

chanel’s enemy LOVE U BAE GN

↳ what the duck STUPID AUTOCORRECT WHAT THE FUCK AINT NO WAY YALL JUST DIPPED fine ily guys too </3 BUT DONT THINK IM LETTING THAT GO EASILY ugh what do you guys mean 😭 aint no way thats true OKOK YK WHAT BYE!! FOR REAL THIS TIME

— taglist.

@shokocoded @istillremberthefirstfallofsnow @surftrips @svtsimp22 @gcidrvsh @idontevencare1223 @thames-fig @captainshischier @reggieslifeboat @multifandom-loser @wheelerslover @mermaid-mqtel @randomnpc456 @kaithoughs @isab3lita @mariposa555 @sunshinessky @myr-cheri @thedeadlynights @ella33 @c1nn4mng1rl @poppysrin @breadbrobin @lucy-the-ant @jules-loves-lukecastellan @taloulalila @tom-pls-fuck-me @mia-luvs @iknowyoureabigfan @rinisfruity14 @chasebeth @auttumnsayshi @prettygirlformula @alwayswndr @balletfilmss @kestisvrse @1forthemoney2forthekish @eissaaaa @emelia07 @toffytaste @soulaires @bearwon @happy-mushrooms @simrah1012 @blimp-blimp @obxstiles @yuminako @hopexcroc @mackycat11 @knowugetdejavu @0puddleofgender0

thank you so much for all your love and support, it really means the world to me. y/n's beginning to find out certain things, wonder where things will go from here 🤔

as always, i will continue updating the taglist :)

i love you and am so proud of you, stay safe and drink water <3

[zegrasdrysdale]

Heyyy could I ask for an Ethan Edward’s fic where him and the reader have been together for about a year and a half or something and she unexpectedly goes into labour at the frozen four game, neither her nor Ethan had any idea that she was even pregnant.

[ a tiny surprise ] e. edwards

paring : Ethan Edwards x fem!reader

summary : Ethan’s girlfriend has to leave the Frozen Four game versus Boston College because she’s having intense cramps, but the biggest surprise of all time waits for her and Ethan when she gets to the hospital

warning(s) : labor and cramps, pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of period

author’s note : i thought this would be a good request to tackle since it’s mother’s day. so anon and everyone, enjoy !! <3

༺═──────────────═༻

From the moment she woke up that morning, she’s been cramping. It wasn’t any worse than her normal period cramps so she took some medicine and went on with her day. There was some pain in her lower back though. She wasn’t worried that it was something else. Sometimes there is some back pain when she’s dealing with period cramps.

They eventually got to a tolerable level where she wasn’t curled up in bed anymore so she got ready for the Frozen Four game that Ethan and Michigan are playing in that night. She throws on the jersey that Ethan left for her, drawers a ‘73’ on her cheek right under her eye, then heads down to the lobby where she’s meeting the other girlfriends so they can head to the game together.

For a moment in the elevator, it feels like her uterus is stabbing her right in the gut. She winces and doubles over in pain with a hand flat on the wall. She lays a hand on her stomach and breathes out until the cramp passes. Sometimes they get painful like this.

Hopefully one of the girls has some medicine she can take in a little bit.

Once she gets to the lobby, the girls pile into the bus that they rented as a group since the boys had to go to the arena early. She sits with her arms crossed over her belly because the cramps are stronger than normal.

Rutger’s girlfriend, Kayleigh, sits next to her as the bus pulls out of the hotel parking lot. “Hey, are you okay?” she questions as she lightly rests a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t look very good.”

“I don’t feel very good,” she admits with a light laugh. “I think my uterus is trying to kill me or something. I’ll be okay for the game.”

Kayleigh laughs. “Oh, I get it,” she replies. “I have Advil in my backpack if you need it. I can grab you a drink so you can take the meds too.”

“Thanks, Kay,” she says with a small smile. “Mind if I take some now? I’m really hurting.”

She nods and grabs the bottle of Advil out of her bag. As soon as the pills are in her hand, Kayleigh grabs her small water bottle and lets her take a sip to take the meds.

The ride to the Xcel Energy Center seems like an eternity because of how much pain she’s in. She’ll just have to push through the pain until after the game because she just wants to support her boyfriend in one of the most important games of his life. The Frozen Four games are always important games. She wants to be there for him.

When the bus arrives to the arena, the girls walk inside together. There is a half hour until puck drop so the boys are probably warming up on the ice. Or they’re about to start warming up.

She sits in a seat until the boys start warming up. Even after the medicine she took, it feels like the cramps are getting worse and closer together. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Ethan would’ve understood if she told him that she wasn’t feeling good. She would’ve watched on the television in the hotel room.

As soon as the boys come out for warmups, she stands up and cheers with the other girls. Ethan skates by and she bangs on the glass, trying to keep a smile on her face despite her insides trying to kill her. Ethan looks at her with a smile on his own face as he warms up.

Then it feels like someone kicks her in the gut. She cries out in pain and wraps an arm around her stomach. Kay is right at her side. “Sit down for a second,” she orders. “I don’t think standing helps cramps. The Advil should kick in soon.”

“They’re never this bad,” she says. Her voice is so shaky. “I’ve taken so much medicine. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

There’s banging on the glass in front of her. She looks up and sees Ethan. “What’s wrong?” he shouts. His voice is able to carry over the glass because fans are still making their way to the ice from the concourse.

Kayleigh taps her stomach in response to Ethan. “Bad,” Kay yells back.

“I’m fine,” she reiterates. “Meds just need to kick in.”

“Are you sure?” Kay asks. “I don’t think he’ll be mad if you need to go to the hotel, or the emergency room since I think every urgent care in the area is closed now.”

She looks up at Kayleigh and Ethan. “The emergency room?” she questions. “They’re just really intense period cramps.”

Ethan points up the steps. “Go to the ER, baby,” he calls. “It’s okay. I know you’ll be watching.” With a frown, she shakes her head. “Please. You’re never in this much pain. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

Kay helps her stand up even though she doesn’t want to go. “I have her, E,” she calls. “Can you tell Rut?” Ethan nods.

He holds up half a hand heart. She holds the other half up before she and Kayleigh slowly make their way up the steps.

As soon as they’re on the concourse, another more painful cramp hits her. Her entire body shakes with pain and she groans. “Kay, hold on,” she begs. “I can’t-”

Something starts dripping down her leg, wetting her leggings. Confused, she looks down and sees a puddle at her feet. It’s clear fluid. She looks back up at Kayleigh.

“What is that?” Kayleigh asks.

“I don’t- ah!” she cries out in pain again. Her legs almost give out and Kayleigh has to hold her weight.

“Okay, I’m calling an ambulance,” Kayleigh explains as she sits her friend against the wall. “You’re in too much pain to walk and clearly something is very wrong.”

She nods as Kayleigh dials 9-1-1 and tells them what’s going on. Her entire body shakes and she has to curl up in a ball to elevate some of her pain. Some of the medical staff has come over to her to try and help. She’s in too much pain to speak.

When paramedics do arrive, Kayleigh manages to let her go to the hospital with them. She also has to do some begging, and she mentions that their boyfriends are on the ice at the moment and there is no one else to go with her.

She’s given some morphine on the ambulance, but it doesn’t do much. The ride is shorter than the ride to the arena from the hotel.

When she gets to the emergency room, they do an exam. When they poke at her stomach, they decide to do an ultrasound because of how ridged her torso is.

The doctor comes back with the machine and puts some of that cool gel on her belly. She grips Kayleigh’s hand as another cramp hits. She bites her lip and winces in pain.

“Miss, did you know you are pregnant?” the doctor asks after a moment.

Her eyes widen. “Pregnant?” she questions. “There’s no way. I still have a period and I never gained any weight. I have no belly.”

The doctor turns the screen in her and Kayleigh’s direction. On the screen is a full term baby. “That’s your baby,” the doctor explains. “And this baby is coming in the next hour or so. Your water has broken, which is what happened at the hockey game.”

“My baby,” she echoes. She blinks and begins to panic. “I have a baby? Oh my God. Ethan has no idea and he’s on the ice.”

Kayleigh asks, “Do you want me to call someone to get him so he’s here?” She nods. Kay disappears a second later to make a phone call.

As the doctor wipes away the gel, she says, “I’m going to get you admitted to the maternity ward and into a labor suite.”

“How is this possible?” she questions as the doctor pulls the jersey back down. “I mean, I had no idea. No signs.”

“It’s rare but it might be because you have two uteruses,” the doctor explains. “One continues to have a period and the other holds the baby. I don’t know why you didn’t show but it happens sometimes. Most women have a belly, some don’t show much or at all.” She puts away the wand and stands up. “I’ll be right back.”

She nods and rests her hands on her belly. Somehow, there is a baby in there. She had no idea that she was even pregnant. Neither did Ethan.

He’s going to be in for the biggest surprise of his life in a few minutes.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

She has never screamed more in her life than she has in the last hour. Her contractions, not cramps, are intense and close together. This baby is coming, and Ethan isn’t here yet.

Kayleigh got a hold of someone, who got a hold of Naurato, who told Ethan what was going on. He said he was leaving as soon as he could, but he’s still not here.

“Where is he?” she cries out as she feels a contraction. “I need Ethan. Now!”

“He’s on his way,” Kayleigh tells her. “He left during one of the TV timeouts. He should be almost here.”

Her OB is checking to see how many centimeters she’s dialated. “Okay, you’re ten centimeters,” she explains. “I can wait a few more minutes but this baby is coming.”

Another contraction and she screams. She grips Kay’s hand so hard she’s afraid she might’ve broken her hand. She feels bad but she needed something to hold.

“I need to wait for my boyfriend,” she pants as soon as the contraction passes. “Please.”

Her OB nods and leaves the room. She looks up at Kay. “Let me go see where he is,” Kayleigh tells her. “Give me literally ten seconds and I’ll be right back, okay?” She nods and breathes.

Kayleigh walks out of the room and she looks out the window. Looking outside helps her stay calm sometimes, even when she’s in sudden, active labor with a baby she didn’t know she was carrying.

Another contraction hits and she takes deep breaths. The door opens a second later and she’s ready to beg the doctor to wait for Ethan when she sees her boyfriend running in the room. He’s still in full gear, minus his helmet and skates. “Oh my God, baby,” he gasps when he sees her on the bed. “How is this-”

“I have no idea,” she replies as Ethan presses a kiss to her sweaty forehead. “All I know is that in a few minutes, we are going to have a baby. I’m scared.”

Ethan grabs her hand and kisses it. “I’m right here,” he assures her. “I’m right beside you through this, okay? I love you and I love our little baby even though neither of us knew.”

Her OB comes back in as she nods. “Are you dad?” her doctor asks. Ethan nods in reply. “Great. We need to push on the next contraction, okay?”

She grabs Ethan’s hand and sits up a bit. As soon as the next contraction hits, she pushes as hard as she can. She screams in a lot of pain since it feels like her body is tearing in two. Ethan has a hand on her back and helps her out. Kayleigh stands on her other side as she pushes.

When she takes a break from pushing, she looks at Ethan. “How are you guys doing?” she questions. “Are you winning?”

He shakes his head. “No, but it’s fine,” he tells her. “I’d rather be here with you. The guys told me to be here with you when Naurato told me what was going on.”

“Full hockey gear,” she teases him.

“I needed to be here for the birth of our baby,” he replies with a smile.

She smiles right back, but it’s short lived as another contraction hits. She pushes more. Her OB tells her to push a little longer.

Then the sound of a baby crying fills the room. She feels almost immediate relief between her legs a second later. She slumps back against the pillows as the doctor stands up with a baby in her arms.

“Congratulations, mom and dad,” she says with a smile. “You have a beautiful baby boy.”

She smiles at the crying baby as he’s handed to her. “Hi, baby boy,” she laughs. “You were quite the surprise.”

Ethan is given the chance to cut the umbilical cord and is right beside her. He puts a little blue hat on the baby’s head as he stops trying. She gives the baby her finger and he seems content.

The OB cleans her up a bit then takes the baby to clean him up. Her eyes never leave her son. “E, we don’t have a name for him,” she realizes out loud.

“We don’t have to think of one at this moment,” Ethan tells her. “I mean, up until an hour ago, we didn’t even know about him. I think we can take a day or two before we name him.”

She nods as her son is handed back to her. The OB leaves the room. Kayleigh snaps a picture of the three of them and says, “Sending this to Rut so he can show the guys. I think they’ll want to know that a future hockey star was just born.”

Ethan laughs and Kayleigh leaves the room to give them a moment alone with their baby boy. She caresses her son’s cheek and tears up.

“I already love him,” she admits. “This is our son, Ethan. We have a baby.”

He kisses the side of her head. “You’re gonna be the best mom,” he tells her. She looks up at him. Ethan wipes away the tears that have rolled down her cheeks. “We’re going to be the best parents. The team is going to spoil him so much.”

“So are we,” she laughs as she looks down at baby boy Edwards. “We have nine months of lost time to make up for since he decided to be a little surprise.”

Ethan laughs and gives his son one of his fingers. “We do.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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taglist : @dasiysthings @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @love4lando @prettyinsatiable @ivy-34 @bunbunbl0gs @marie7366 @naughty-box

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: andrei got an all star weekend fic last year, so it’s only right that mat gets one this year! i literally have a million favorite pics from this weekend so i had to use them all i don’t care. i tried to hit a bunch of the main weekend highlights! i’m also aware that some of the timing and stuff is weird in the fic, but we’re just rolling with it and enjoying the vibes. 🧡💙

word count: 7k

tw: innuendo, dirty talk, protected sex, oral (m receiving), fingering (f recieving), thigh riding, extremely minimal editing

summary: all star weekend in toronto with mat is one to remember

“Who do you think will pick you?” You ask, settled comfortably in the middle of the hotel room’s mattress, wrapped warmly in the plush robe. You have the perfect spot to watch Mat at the bathroom sink while he shaves. He’s in his suit pants, but his chest is bare, giving you the opportunity to watch his back and arm muscles move as he works.

“Dunno,” he replies, slightly muffled. You can see his face in the mirror, lips tucked in and half covered in shaving cream. He lets his hand fall to the counter and turns to face you, a crooked smile on his face made even more lopsided by the shaving cream beard. “If it’s not Mo and Auston though, I’m leaving.”

You roll your eyes, knowing that your boyfriend loves Justin Bieber almost more than he loves you. “I want Nate and Cale to pick you. I want to meet Tate McRae.”

“You can meet Tate McRae even if I’m not on her team,” Mat scoffs, returning to his shaving. “When am I ever going to get a chance to be coached by Justin Bieber? Never, Squeaks! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“You’re such a dork,” you murmur affectionately, grinning at his back and tucking your face into the collar of the robe. You have to get up and start getting ready soon, but you’re too comfortable to move. Mat’ll go over to the arena earlier for media interviews and the red carpet, but you don’t have to be there, technically at all, but you want to see the draft.

Mat finishes shaving his face and wipes his cheeks off with the hand towel. “You’re not being very supportive of my dreams,” he informs you dramatically, tossing the dirty towel onto the counter and planting his hands on his hips.

You kneel up on the bed and gape at him, amping up the dramatics. “I’m spending my vacation in cold ass Toronto instead of Baha Mar because I’m supportive of your dreams,” you laugh, throwing your arms out to your sides. “Sue me if I want you to have a good celebrity captain.”

“The Biebs would be the best captain,” Mat replies, crossing over to the bed in a handful of steps, reaching out to rest his hands on your hips. His fingers play with the tie of the robe. “He played hockey and he’s a huge fan.”

“Are their colors at least the blue jersey?” You ask. “You look so good in blue.”

Mat lifts an eyebrow. “That would make you support my coaching dreams? The color blue?”

You hum, resting your hands on his shoulders, playing with the chain around his neck. “I’m very superficial,” you inform him, deadpan.

“Yeah,” Mat replies, equally deadpan, “me too.” He breaks a second later, grinning and peppering kisses all over your face, making you squeal. His fingers dig into your sides, tickling you under the robe, and you wriggle on your knees, slumping forward over his chest when you can’t take it anymore. Gasping laughter saws from your chest and you try to catch your breath, but Mat’s making it hard with his hands splayed over your back. They’re warm and slightly rough and you’re both really wearing barely any clothes, it would be so easy to drag him down onto the bed.

He seems to be telepathically picking up on your thoughts because Mat presses a kiss to your bare shoulder where the robe has slipped off and says, “I gotta finish getting ready or I’m going to be late. But when we get back after the draft, my body is yours to use.”

You pull back and grin at him. “However I want?”

“Yeah,” he snorts, “I need to conserve energy to reclaim my title tomorrow, so you have to do all the work.”

“Pillow princess,” you accuse, pouting at him.

“Just for you, babe,” Mat shoots back, cupping your chin in his hand and tilting your head back so he can really kiss you, licking into your mouth and leaving you wet and wanting when he pulls back. “Start thinking about what position you want me in.”

He winks, laughing, and heads back to the bathroom to finish getting his hair in place. You slump back down on the bed and call to his back, “I’m making sure I get two orgasms before you even get one.”

“Fine by me,” Mat calls back, hands working through his hair. “I like the way you scream my name when you’re coming on my cock.”

Your entire body flushes with heat and you press your thighs together. “Damnit,” you mutter, knowing you need to start getting ready and you definitely don’t have time for even a halfway satisfying orgasm. “For that,” you call, starting to roll off the bed so you can do your hair and makeup, “I get three orgasms before you get one.”

“You’re being so mean to your All-Star,” Mat teases, shrugging into his button down and starting to do up the buttons. You plug in your curling iron and roll your eyes at him.

“Should’ve known all the attention would go to your head,” you sigh, pretending to be burdened by him. “I’m your All-Star, Mr. Barzal, and don’t you forget it.”

His answering grin crinkles his entire face and you go to him easily when he reaches out to grab your wrist and tug you into his chest. “That’s why I’m letting you have your orgasms before I get mine,” he says cheekily, pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek and disappearing to the other side of the room for his shoes.

You huff a little, a small smile playing on your lips, and return to fixing your hair. Mat finishes getting ready, lacing up his dress shoes and pulling on his suit jacket before throwing his arms out to his sides and doing a little half-turn, asking, “so, how do I look?”

“Like my All-Star,” you beam at him, tilting your head up for a kiss. He obliges. “I like this suit a lot,” you continue, reaching for your purse and withdrawing a Sharpie. You hold it up in between your bodies and tuck it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Just in case.”

Mat pats his hand over the pocket and kisses your forehead. “Thanks, Squeaks. Text me when you get to the arena, okay? I’ll see you after the draft.”

You nod and with one final kiss, Mat’s out the door, leaving you with some peace and quiet to get ready. You do wish that Bo or Noah had been voted in too, so you’d at least have Holly or Alexa to hang out with while you’re watching the events. Mat’s parents and Liana are getting into town tomorrow afternoon, with enough time to join you for the Skills Competition, but until then, you’re on your own.

Luckily, you run into Steph Marner outside of the arena, saving you from the awkward first day of a new school feeling where you’ll either have to sit alone or find someone you know in the arena. You know Steph a little bit from different events and you’re friendly enough, it’s not the same as having one of your girls with you, but she’s a familiar face.

“Hey, girl!” Steph greets you with a hug that you return. “Welcome to the six!”

“I really wish you were welcoming me to the Bahamas,” you laugh, falling into step next to her. The crowds are wild and you look around as you walk in, having never been to an All-Star game before this is so much fun.

She lets loose a laugh, “you and me both! It would’ve been nice to get out of the city for a bit, but what can you do?” She shrugs and you fall into small talk for a little bit, catching up on what’s been happening since you last saw each other.

By the time the draft starts, you’re pleasantly tipsy and getting into the fun. The guys are all sitting on little benches on the ice and it’s adorable watching them swing their legs like toddlers. You snap a few photos of Mat from your spot in the stands, knowing the professional photos you’ll get from the team’s social media team later will be better. The draft starts and you wait impatiently for Mat to be picked.

By the time the fourth round ends and he hasn’t been picked, you’re starting to get cranky on his behalf. And slightly anxious that he’ll be picked last, even though you know logically that won’t happen. On the ice, he keeps swinging his legs, fidgeting in place until finally Mo and Auston pick him to join Team Bieber, along with half the Maple Leafs - Mitch Marner and William Nylander included.

Steph slaps your hand in a high-five, “woohoo! Teammates!”

You laugh and cheer along with her, snapping a picture of Mat getting a hug from Justin Bieber. You immediately send it off to your group chat, adding the message: pretty sure he’s going to leave me for the biebs 😭

The girls flood the chat, but you’re too busy laughing with Steph about Mat and Mitch’s chatter on the Team Bieber bench.

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “Mat’s such a yapper. He must be talking Mitch’s ear off.”

“Please,” Steph waves her hand in the air. “Mitch can’t shut up either. They probably aren’t even listening to each other.”

As the draft continues, you tune out a little since Mat’s been picked. Eventually, you tune back in and your gaze lands on your boyfriend manspreading to an extreme degree. Muffling a laugh with your hand, you shoot him a text, knowing he won’t see it until later: spread your legs a little wider, babe, i want to feel the stretch when i straddle you 👀

The draft comes to an end and it’s a little bit of a whirlwind after that, chatting with people you haven’t seen in a bit and wandering the arena until you find Mat. Or he finds you, actually.

“Team Bieber!” He crows, barely hiding his excitement now that it’s just you in front of him.

You grin at him, squeaked laughter pushed from your lungs when he crushes you to his chest in a hug. “Happy for you, Mat!”

“Babe,” he shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear, “this is gonna be so fucking fun. He hugged me!”

“You are the biggest fangirl I’ve ever seen,” you tease, tucking yourself under his arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. “It’s adorable.”

“I know you’re making fun of me right now,” he says, “but I don’t even care. We’ve got a Bieber concert to get to.”

You shake your head and let yourself be dragged along to the concert, knowing that Mat’s going to have the time of his life listening to one of his favorite artists perform live and that you’re going to get so many videos of him singing along that will immediately be sent to Beau for blackmail material.

The concert is actually beyond fun, and by the time you get back to the hotel, Mat’s completely forgotten about his earlier determination to be a pillow princess and has you out of your sweater and jeans before you really process what’s happening. His mouth and fingers work you up to two hard and fast orgasms, leaving you sweaty and breathless in the middle of the bed.

“Fuck,” you mutter, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing them, bending your knees to draw his cock closer to your cunt. You clit throbs and the condom-wrapped head of Mat’s cock bumps against it, making you see stars.

“One more each, okay?” Mat mutters, pushing into you slowly. You whine and clench around him, scraping your nails down his back. He hisses at the sting, but doesn’t stop until he’s seated fully inside your pussy, breathing hard. Sweat rolls down his temples, dampening his hair.

You barely last a few minutes, overly sensitive from the last two orgasms, and you come before Mat, stroking your hands over every inch of him you can reach while he pumps his hips into yours. He grunts into your neck when he comes, filling the condom and nearly crushing you with the heavy weight of his body on top of yours. The air is pushed from your lungs, Mat’s sweaty chest pressed against yours.

“Fuck,” he mumbles into your hair, “that felt good. You feel good. Could stay here forever.”

You kiss his shoulder. “I’d make some kind of innuendo about being an all star, but I think my brain is melted,” you say honestly, still wrapped around Mat like an octopus and making no effort to move.

——-

Mat’s Friday is quiet, other than an early afternoon practice for the Saturday game and the Skills Competition at night, so you have a lazy morning with him in bed. Neither of you bothered with clothes the night before, so it’s easy to get your hands on him and harder to get his hands off of you. You slip under the covers and wake him up with your mouth on his cock, sucking him off until he comes in your mouth. After he returns the favror with a slow, lingering orgasm, you shower and decide to head off to explore downtown Toronto for a bit before Mat goes to practice and you head off to the airport in the rental car to pick up Mat’s parents and sister.

“Thank god you’re here,” you give Liana a huge hug after helping everyone load their bags into the trunk. “It’s so hard being the only one around to chirp Mat to his face.”

“Please tell me you have video of the Bieber of it all,” she grins at you, a little evilly. You nod and she she pumps her fist. Nadia shakes her head.

“Don’t be mean to your brother this weekend,” she turns around in the passenger seat to face you both. Michael had insisted on driving back into the city and you weren’t about to argue - Toronto traffic rivaled New York traffic.

Liana rolls her eyes. “Mom, he needs some humbling,” she replies. “It’s good for his character

growth.”

You hide a giggle behind your hand. The Barzal sibling dynamic is one of your favorite things to witness. “I promise, Nadia,” you say, leaning forward a bit, “Mat gets so much praise. He does need a little humbling every once in a while.”

Once you’re back in the city, you drop the car and everyone’s bags off at the hotel and head over to meet Mat at the arena. He’s waiting for you all in the main lobby, looking fresh and clean and beyond adorable in his new All-Stars beanie. His smile is huge and only grows when he gives his parents hugs hello. He rubs the top of Liana’s head in a noogie that has her punching his arm, while they both laugh.

“Hi,” you smile up at him. You missed him even though it’s been less than two hours since you saw him.

“Hi,” Mat kisses you quickly before tugging the beanie off his head and unceremoniously dropping it on yours, tugging the cuff of it low over your forehead and smushing your hair. You wrinkle your nose at him and he raises an eyebrow. “It’s cold and you look cute in it.”

You lift your phone, the screen lighting up to display a handful of social media notifications and texts, “not as cute as you, according to the Twitter girlies. Apparently, you’re giving babygirl.” Your grin is shit-eating and Liana openly cracks up next to you, even as Michael and Nadia frown at each other, completely confused by the social media phrases.

Mat’s ears go pink and he nudges his hip against yours. “Shut up, let’s just go for lunch and not talk about that,” he rests his hand against your lower back and slings the other arm over Liana’s shoulder, guiding the both of you out of the arena.

“Oh no,” his sister says in a sugary-sweet tone, “we’re definitely talking about it. I have a few of my favorites bookmarked to mention…” She trails off, starting to scroll through her phone.

“Mom!” Mat whips his head around to look at Nadia. She plucks the phone from Liana’s hands and stashes it in her purse.

Michael, in order to cut off Liana’s complaint, jumps in, “Mat, tell us about Patrick Roy. How’s the change going?”

Luckily, the new coach is a topic Mat could happily chatter on about for hours, so he takes the bait and you end up having a fairly peaceful lunch before heading back to the hotel for a little relaxation before the Skills Competition. Liana comes to hang out with you and Mat, while Michael and Nadia get in a quick nap after their long flight. You put a movie on, but really the three of you end up gossiping and catching up, before Mat finally kicks you both out so he can get in a short nap too.

“Love you,” he kisses you before essentially pushing you out the door.

“Yeah, I really feel the love,” you roll your eyes, quickly pulling your coat back before Mat can close the door on it.

Liana smiles at you wryly. “I don’t know how you put up with him, but thank god for you. Let’s go get a coffee,” she says, linking arms with you as you stroll down to the elevators. You have the toque back on your head, adjusted so it’s not smashing your hair flat, and you can’t help but smile when you think about Mat putting it on your head in the first place.

“He’s surprisingly easy to love,” you laugh. “When he’s not being a drama queen.”

“Ugh,” Liana rolls her eyes affectionately, “you guys are disgusting.”

“Be nice or I’m going to decide to renovate the guest room during the week in April you’re coming to visit,” you joke.

——-

The arena is even louder and more chaotic during the Skills Competition and you’re having fun with Liana, taking pictures and getting snacks while you wait for everything to start.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, scrolling through Instagram before the events start. The reel the team’s socials have posted of Mat picking out his skate blades has your panties immediately damp and you’re ready to demand it get taken down for your own sanity. You shift in your seat, damp fabric scraping against your wet cunt.

Liana looks over your shoulder to see what you’re looking at. “Oh gross,” she fakes a gagging noise. “He needs to put those away.”

“Or save them just for me,” you mumble, for her ears only. As much as you love Nadia and Michael, they don’t need to hear how horny you are for their son. Liana bumps your shoulder and your fingers slip over the screen.

“I’m gonna go blind, put that thirst trap away,” she frowns. “They’re going to start now.”

She’s right and Mat is the first one introduced on the ice. The four of you jump to your feet and scream for him, your heart pounding with excitement. Mat looks so stupidly happy to be on the ice, you can’t help but let out an extra loud wolf-whistle for him.

The Fastest Skater competition is up first and you won’t admit it, but you’re a little nervous for Mat to hold onto his title. You clench your hands together while William Nylander, Quinn Hughes, and Cale Makar go, crossing your fingers when their times are all over 14 seconds.

Mat’s fourth and you scream when he’s under 14 seconds, holding first until, of course, Connor McDavid unseats him. It’s annoying and a little frustrating, but you’re still beyond proud of Mat for being so close.

“Fuck that!” Liana grumbles, echoing your thoughts.

“He’s fastest skater in my heart,” you whisper back, purposely not telling her your plan to giving him a blow job at the end of the night.

One Timers is next. Honestly, you have no idea what the rules on this one are, but you just enjoy the show. Especially since Mat’s not that great in this competition in the end. You can see the scowl on his face and even Nadia laughs a little.

“He’s so hard on himself, even for fun events,” she shakes her head.

You can see him shake his head after his turn at the Passing Challenge, but honestly you’re really just focused on down damn good he looks with the backwards cap on his head. Watching Mat show off his skills is always your favorite thing. Mat takes third in this challenge and then talks to Kevin Weekes on ice and you record him while he talks, loving that crooked smile of his.

“I can’t believe he’s tied for first,” Liana shakes her head, filling in Michael and Nadia as they come back to the seats with drinks. “Think he’ll drop a couple thousand my way?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” you nudge her side. “Right after he funds my tropical vacation.”

During the musical break, you both get up to use the bathroom and stretch your legs. Your phone is vibrating with texts from the team and the girls, chirping Mat and making sure you know to pass on the messages.

Mat’s final event is Stick Handling and you keep your fingers crossed throughout the break - he’s in third overall and honestly you think he could pull off a win. Either way, you know you’re going to celebrate with him later.

“That’s my man!” You shout when Mat’s announced for second place. “Silkiest mits in the league!”

Liana and Nadia jump up to celebrate with you - Mat’s tied for first over all with one competition left.

He makes it to the next round and the three of you cheer, laughing and more than a little tipsy off of arena beers and cocktails. It’s so much more fun to cheer him on and celebrate Mat with his family.

“I always forget how good he is,” Nadia comments. “I know he’s good, but he’s having fun out there too.”

“No, he was literally off the wall excited to come back,” you tell her. “Being selected and then getting to replace Jack Hughes in the skills comp, on top of the new coach, Mat’s been in such a good mood lately.”

“He’s also whipped,” Liana teases you. You stick your tongue out at her.

“He just knows when he has to listen and turn off his hockey brain,” you shrug, talking over the music.

“Oh, Mat sucks at the shootout,” you groan, seeing what the One on One competition entails. “I just need him to not be last on this one.”

Mat picks Igor Shesterkin as his goalie and you watch him collect six points and sit in a tie for third. The New York rivalry runs strong and you can’t wait for the Stadium Series game in two weeks. You’re kind of treating the cold in Toronto as a preview of sitting out in the cold in New Jersey.

And with that, Mat’s onto the final round.

“One step closer to that cool million,” Liana grins. “You know how big of an engagement ring you could get with that…”

You choke on your sip of water and Michael claps you on the back while Nadia frowns at Liana. “No way I need or want something that big,” you manage to squeak out. “Not to be, like, basic, but I’d take a page out of Taylor Swift’s book and marry him with a paper ring.”

Your entire face feels like it’s burning red, talking about marrying Mat in front of his parents. You do, obviously, want to marry him, but it feels strange to say so in front of his parents when you’ve only met them a handful of times.

Liana’s shit-eating grin is identical to Mat’s. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says and when you try to say anything, she shushes you and points to the ice, where the obstacle course is starting.

“Oh, he’s locked in,” Liana says and you’re all leaning forward in your seats as Mat goes through the obstacles.

“Oh god,” you groan, covering your eyes with your hands as Mat struggles with the little nets. Liana and Nadia wince at your sides. It’s like a train wreck, you can’t look away from his struggle. When they have to bring out more pucks for him, your heart sinks into your stomach.

Mat’s time in the end is awful, and you can see his disappointment on his face when he looks up at the jumbotron. He would’ve beaten McDavid if the nets hadn’t tripped him up.

“Ah, he did his best,” Michael says and you nod. It sucks that Mat didn’t place higher, but you’re so proud of him. Considering he wasn’t even chosen to be in the Skills Competition in the first place, the fact that he made it to the final round and nearly won is an incredible effort.

Mat texts you all in a group chat that you’d honestly forgotten existed, letting you know that he still has to shower and do some media availability, so he’ll meet you all back at the hotel.

Michael and Nadia decide to head to bed and you promise to let Mat know - you’ll all get together for breakfast before Mat goes to his morning skate before the game at 3. You and Liana hang out in the hotel bar until Mat joins you a little more than an hour later, spotting you immediately and wedging himself in the few inches of space left in the arm chair you’re sitting in. He squishes you to the side with his thighs, spreading them without concern. His arms wrap around your shoulders and he kisses the side of your head. “Hey, Squeaks,” he greets you, adjusting so one of your legs is draped over his and you’re as close as you could possibly be.

“Jesus,” Liana mutters. “Get a room.”

Mat squints at her, “I would love to.”

You nudge his side and murmur, “behave,” at him. All that does is encourage Mat to get in your face and kiss you hungrily. A surprised giggle is swallowed by Mat’s mouth and Liana’s disgusted scoff makes Mat smile against your lips.

“I’m going to bed,” she pushes up from her chair. “See you two in the morning. And wear a condom, I’m not ready to be an aunt.”

You and Mat choke simultaneously, Liana’s laughter echoing as she dances away. You drop your forehead to Mat’s shoulder and he shakes his head, “she really knows how to kill the mood.”

When you shift your leg though, you can feel the bulge of Mat’s cock against your thigh. “I don’t think she killed the mood that much,” you tease, curling closer to him. “Should we go upstairs and I can reward you for being the all-star of my heart?”

“Cheesy,” Mat accuses even as he’s pulling you to your feet and guiding you to the elevator bank. “I’m exhausted though, I didn’t realize how much work the obstacle course would be.”

“I’ll do all the work, don’t you worry,” you grin at him.

Less than ten minutes later you have him on his back, cunt clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mat groans, fingers digging into your hips. “Baby, god, fuck feels so good.”

You lean forward, bouncing over Mat’s cock, nails digging into his chest. “Wanted to do this all day,” you gasp. “All the posts, your fucking thighs, Mat! Been soaked for you.”

He laughs underneath you, sliding one hand to play with your clit. You whine and feel your arousal leak from your body, smearing all over Mat’s pelvis. “Thought about riding my thighs, baby?” He asks, gripping your hip even tighter and helping you bounce on him.

“Every fucking day,” you admit, choking on air when Mat bucks his hips up into yours, the head of his cock smacking against your g-spot. “All-Star Mat is my favorite Mat.”

His face is red from exertion, beads of sweat rolling down his temples, but even still you can tell that your praise is getting to him, flushing his chest pink and making his rhythm over your clit stutter. You grin wickedly down at him, knowing exactly how you want to play him.

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur sincerely, grinding down on him. “Came in and killed it, made it look easy,” you hiccup on a particularly aggressive bounce, “so fucking handsome. My all-star. Mine, mine, mine.”

“Fuuuuck” Mat drags out the curse, bending his knees and planting his feet on the mattress so he can fuck up into you roughly. “Jesus. Wanted to win ‘cause you were there.”

You whimper every time Mat’s cock hits your g-spot, nearly there, and praise him again, “always a winner. Always my winner. Love you so much.”

Mat’s cock thickens inside of you while you clench around him and you plant your hands on his stomach for leverage and to feel his muscles bunch up in the lead up to his orgasm. He groans and squeezes a handful of your ass, bucking up into you harshly. “Gonna - sorry, baby. Need to come,” he groans your name, filling the condom with a deep growl. You keep riding him through it, replacing his hand on your clit with yours so he can grip your hips and bounce you while he finishes.

“C’mon, fill me up,” you whine, chanting his name, rolling your fingers over your clit until you finish a few seconds after him, gushing around the base of his cock and his lower stomach. You slump over his chest and Mat grunts underneath you, smoothing his hands over your ass.

“God, that was fucking amazing,” he mutters into your hair, kissing your cheek. “Gotta be the all-star more often.”

You laugh and wiggle your ass over him, cunt clenching lazily around him. “I dunno, I was supposed to take care of you, but you took over there for a bit,” you mumble against his skin.

“Couldn’t help it,” he shrugs, “looked so fucking good with your tits bouncing, that gorgeous face you make when I hit as deep as possible.” He yawns a little, swallowing the last few words of his sentence.

“Shut up,” you laugh lightly, swatting at his chest while you roll off of him, sticky and sore. Mat moves to get up, but you push him back a little and wrap a hand around his hip. “I’ve got it.” You make quick work of the condom, tying a knot at the top and padding into the bathroom to get rid of it. You rinse off quickly and bring Mat back a damp washcloth to clean off his stomach, but by the time you get back into the bedroom, he’s got one arm tucked behind his head and he’s fast asleep, letting out gentle grumbling snores.

You laugh a little to yourself, shaking your head. Men.

Still, you wipe him off carefully - not that it matters, he doesn’t move at all - and climb into bed with him, after stealing a clean t-shirt from his suitcase.

Mat chokes a little on his snore and rolls over, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you close to his chest. His arm is a strong lock over your stomach and you shift, getting comfortable before falling asleep with the warm weight of Mat’s body at your back.

You wake up a little bit later, with one of Mat’s thighs wedged in between your legs, corded muscle pressed up against your cunt, making it throb. You grind experimentally over his leg and he grunts against your hair, warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and making you shiver.

“Mat?” You whisper his name quietly and his arm tightens around your waist. You trace your fingertips over the veins on his hand.

His thigh flexes against you and you gasp, warmth pooling between your legs.

“Told you to use me,” Mat mumbles sleepily, kissing behind your ear. “Go ‘head.”

His hand is splayed flat over your stomach and he pushes gently, spurring you into movement. Your hips rock lazily over his thigh, the sleepy rhythm making it hard for you to hold onto the coil of pleasure. Mat rocks his half-hard cock into your backside and you sigh softly, heat building in your blood.

“Feels good,” he sighs, helping you move over him, eyes still shut. He hikes his thigh up higher, catching your clit on his leg hair and sensing a wave of pleasure through your body.

You whine his name, burying your fingers between your legs to help coax yourself to an orgasm. “Wanna feel you,” you whisper and Mat’s hand slips between your bodies, leaving your stomach cold, so he can roughly jerk his cock a few times, tugging until he’s harder.

He pulls you back by the hip, until his cock is nestled between your thighs and you angle back against him, slipping the head of him inside your entrance. A breathy sigh escapes your lungs and Mat rocks his hips so his cock thrusts in and out of your shallowly. Between his cock and your fingers, you’re falling over the cliff of pleasure within seconds, slick covering your thighs.

“Roll over,” you rasp, legs still trembling. You’re not about to go searching in the dark for a condom, so you settle yourself in between Mat’s powerful thighs and take him into your mouth, tasting yourself on him. Both of his hands land on your head, tangling in your hair and holding you in place while you lick at him, kissing the head of his cock and hollowing your cheeks around him until he’s coming in your mouth.

Mat groans, hips bucking up into your mouth, eyes screwed shut. “Babe, christ, love that fucking mouth,” he says hoarsely, hauling you up his body when you’re done so he can kiss you sleepily.

You’re exhausted and close your eyes again, lying over Mat’s chest, his arms wrapped around your back. “You make me so stupid,” you mumble against his collarbone, asleep before you know it.

——-

Saturday is the big game day and after your middle of the night sexcapades, you and Mat oversleep so he just barely has time for breakfast with everyone before he’s off to the arena for a little morning skate and a brief stint on NHL News.

You and the Barzals decide to take in a little bit of the Fan Fest before exploring downtown Toronto before the game starts. It’s fun to spend so much time with Mat’s family and you’re looking forward for them to coming to Long Island for Easter.

The games themselves are beyond fun to watch, since the guys are all taking it seriously while still having a good time.

When Mat and Team Bieber make it to the finals, you and Liana are beside yourselves, screaming with excitement.

“Mat willed them to a win so he can spend more time with Justin,” Liana laughs and you agree.

“Honestly, I’m not convinced he wouldn’t dump me for Justin,” you snort, snapping a picture of Mat on the ice.

Team Bieber/Matthews wins the whole thing and you know it’s just a silly fun weekend, but you can’t help be so incredibly proud of Mat and his performance all weekend. He’s been so light and happy all weekend and you know it was the break he needed to reset for the second half of the season.

After he finishes with post-game media availabilities - where he apparently mentions his future kids, much to Liana and Nadia’s delight and your slight panic, one day but definitely not any time soon - he comes and meets you all for dinner. Mat’s still buzzing from adrenaline and won’t shut up about Justin Bieber as a coach.

“He was just so invested,” he says. “Really wanted to win and knew what he was talking about.”

“Who’s a better coach,” you cut in slyly, “Justin Bieber or Patrick?”

He pins you with a wry look, as his parents laugh. “Squeaks, that’s just not fair.”

“It’s also not even a competition,” Michael points out. “I would think Patrick Roy has nothing on Justin Bieber’s enthusiasm.”

You recognize your boyfriend’s father’s sarcastic joke and giggle. Everyone knows about Patrick’s enthusiastic coaching style.

“I actually can’t wait to get back to it,” Mat says, swiping a bite of your steak off your plate. “I feel really good about the back half.”

Dinner continues comfortably for another few hours, Mat soaking up time with his family while he doesn’t have to worry about practice or a game tomorrow. Eventually, you all head back to your rooms - the Barzals are flying back to Vancouver tomorrow afternoon, while you and Mat get to enjoy the day together before the team flies in before the game.

“Oh, hey, check this out,” Mat’s nearly bouncing when you get back to your hotel room, directing your attention to a huge gift bag sitting on the bed.

You raise an eyebrow, “all star game swag?”

“Even better,” Mat’s eyes are wide. “Justin gave us all some stuff from his line.”

Muffling a giggle with your hand, you poke at the gift bag. “Justin? Your new best friend?” You ask, dryly, spotting a grey hoodie at the top of the pile.

Mat nudges you with his knuckles. “Just for that, I’m not sharing my new gear,” he informs you, pulling each item out of the bag. He’s like a kid on Christmas, giddy with each piece of merch and relaying more stories about Justin behind the bench, like you haven’t heard them all already.

You indulge him, getting ready for bed as he talks, giving him a soft, affectionate smile when he finally pauses his yapping. “You are such a dork,” you murmur, squishing his cheeks between your palms and planting a quick kiss on her pursed lips. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute.”

——

Sunday is quiet, festivities over. Mat immediately pulls on his new Drew hoodie and you snag the sweats, going for comfort over fashion for your day.

“Steal that sweatshirt and send it to me,” Liana says, hugging you goodbye.

“Over my dead body,” Mat shakes his head at her. “Buy your own.”

You sling an arm around Mat’s waist and lean into him. “Oh, calm down. No one’s stealing the gifts your boyfriend gave you,” you wrinkle your nose at him in a crinkly-eyed smile.

He snaps at the waist band of your pilfered sweats and gives you a stink eye. You laugh, “I live with you! They’re going back to our shared dresser.”

“In my drawer,” Mat says and you nod, indulging him. You both know that you’re keeping the sweats.

Once Mat’s parents and Liana are off to the airport, the rest of the day is chill. You’re soaking up the time with Mat before he goes back into the grind for the back half of the season.

“Hey,” you say at dinner later, nudging his foot with yours under the table.

Mat looks up from the menu, hair a little messy, eyes still bright from the excitement of the weekend.

“I just…I’m really proud of you,” you manage to say around the little ball of emotion in your throat. You reach across the table and lace your fingers with his and Mat squeezes them gently. “This has been the best weekend and I hope you get to bring this excitement to the back half of the season.”

His grins at you, that crooked smile of his that you love so much, and says, “having you here was the second best part of the weekend.”

“Let me guess,” you deadpan, “becoming besties with Justin was the best part?”

He nods, eyes twinkling, “yep.”

“I hate you,” you snort a laugh, smiling despite yourself.

“It’s a really close second though,” Mat assures you.

With a faint sigh, you shake your head, “I see where I stand. Maybe I’ll just have to cheer for the Leafs tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Mat rushes to say and you kick his shin lightly.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “What kind of Long Islander would I be, rooting for the enemy?”

Mat pinches your palm, “a terrible one and an awful girlfriend too.”

You hum and say nonchalantly, “you’d think two blowjobs in a weekend, plus riding you, would cement me as best girlfriend ever.”

“Make it three and I’ll marry you right now,” Mat jokes, surprising a laugh out of your chest. Your heart skips a beat in your chest at the mention of marrying Mat, even as a little joke. You want to be his forever.

“You know,” you say, voice shaking just slightly, “marriage is all about give and take.”

Mat bumps his knee against yours, grinning wickedly. “Baby, if you wanted an orgasm, all you had to do was ask,” he says, voice low so he won’t be heard in the restaurant.

Your entire body heats with lust and you brush your fingers over your lips, hiding the involuntary little smile Mat’s words elicit. “Oh,” your voice is breathless, “well, if that’s all it takes.”

“You going to ask for what you want?” Mat asks, running his thumb over the backs of your knuckles.

Leaning forward, you hum, catching the faint hint of Mat’s cologne and the hotel shampoo. You wet your lower lip and watch as Mat’s gaze tracks the tiny movement of your tongue. Quietly, you murmur just for Mat’s ears, “I want some all-star orgasms before I become a hockey widow again.”

Mat chuckles and leans forward too so he can give you a quick kiss. “I think I can make that happen,” he replies easily, leaning back in his seat. You can see from the way his body shifts that he’s spreading his legs again. You shift in your seat, feeling hot. He smirks a little at you, clearly seeing the way your body reacts to him.

Fuck, it may be a three blowjob weekend after all.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Better Than Revenge

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: uhhhh in accidentally posting the wrong thing I think I wrote the wrong request at some point so you know what there’s gonna be a bonus story okay. OKAY now that I’m reading this I’m- I think- I did the request wrong and uhhh….. well here’s you know evidently another bonus fic I hate everything 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Eddie can literally hear Buck laughing all the way to the truck, okay maybe not all the way but a damn good ways down the hall that’s for sure

He has no fucking clue how he got locked in a closet, but he did. At least he wasn’t alone… he looks over at you, sitting with your ankles crossed on the floor. Your head hung so low he can’t bear to look at you anymore without asking 

And he really shouldn’t. 

He should just keep to himself, he should just-

“Are you okay?” 

Dammit Eddie. 

“Huh?” You look up at him, your face stained with tears and it breaks his heart, his Mexican, telenovela, hopeless romantic heart. Because you’re so pretty and you smell so good and is this stupid room getting smaller?? 

Okay, that was a bit much but you get it. He gets on one knee, pulls his glove off with his teeth, and reaches for you, tilting your head up

“Hey… hey what’s going on? Are you hurt? Did something happen??” 

His inner hero is practically clawing at its enclosure to save help girl, this really really, pretty girl. 

And your inner…. Uh, something is clawing at its enclosure to jump this man. 

“No! No, it’s- not it’s nothing like that” you laugh awkwardly, wiping at your tears quickly. “I- I'm sorry” You shove those thoughts very very (not) very far away as you try to control your tears 

“No please, don’t apologize… are you okay?” Eddie comes to sit next to you, plopping down on the cement floor. He takes his helmet off along with his other glove and gets comfy… they’re gonna be there for a while. 

“I’m… yeah I’m fine” you sniffle, shrugging your shoulders weakly. He nods slowly, looking down at his helmet in his hands 

“You know…. If you tell me the truth-“ he picks it up, setting it down carefully on your head “I’ll let you wear the helmet” 

You snort, nudging him with your shoulder and shaking your head slowly “I’m not five oh my god” you giggle as you hold the helmet on your head and look up at him 

“Yeah, but it got you to smile didn’t it?” He shrugs off his jacket, the room may be small but it is entirely concrete and entirely underground, he can feel the chill in the air as he puts it over your shoulders, the frayed, distressed shorts and oversized crop top not really cutting it down here. 

You hug the jacket to your body, sticking your arms through the holes. It smells good, kind of smokey, kind of earthy, definitely something that’s probably signature him.

“Alright, I’ve given you my coat, and my hat. Now you gotta tell me what’s wrong” he nudges you back and you smile a little more, rolling your eyes 

“Okay fine. I came to visit my boyfriend? He’s got an office near almost the top floor. Well… uh- it was supposed to be a surprise! But you know… imagine my surprise… when this fucking asshole has his secretary bent over his desk!” 

Eddie’s mouth drops open when you say that, he splutters, gesturing wildly and you nod vigorously 

“Yeah!!! And she knew he had a girlfriend! She knows me!!!” 

He gasps so loudly it echoes around the room

“Are- are you?!!! Are you shitting me?!” He grabs his radio from his jacket, clicking it 

“Buck?… oh my god Buck I have tea” 

You fall against him laughing as Buck answers back 

“Oh my god, spill” 

Eddie repeats back what you said, and Buck is gasping wildly, reacting absolutely ridiculously 

“Oh you tell me what the fuck this asshole looks like”

“No no I-“

“I’m not gonna beat his ass yet. I just want to know if he even stuck around” 

You roll your eyes, describing him and Buck scoffs “Oh. That guy.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He was worried about his office. Said he’s got a nice set of golf clubs he’d gotten for his birthday in there, his prized possession”

Eddie looks at you as you blink back tears “T-that’s all he said? That’s all he’s worried about?” You ask, your voice cracking and Eddie has to look away for a second 

“Uh yeah… I’m- I’m sorry kiddo, maybe he doesn’t know you’re in there. Let me find out okay?” 

“Okay” 

You set the radio down and stare at the wall, just waiting quietly. Eddie reaches out for you, catching a tear as it falls down your cheek 

“He probably doesn’t know” 

“He does” you sniff, wiping at your tears and sighing loudly “No. he uh- he fucking knows.” You laugh bitterly 

“Y/N come on there’s no way he-“

“He fucking knew” Buck growls back into the radio and Eddie picks it up 

“Are you shitting me?!” 

“It’s okay!” Buck perks up “I punched him in his stupid fucking face!!” 

Your head whips to the radio as Eddie laughs “You did what?!” You squeak your face lighting up 

“Oh, Buck I could kiss you!!” 

“Give it to Eddie for me, I’m sure he’d love that” 

“Oh my god she’s not gonna-“

“Bet” 

You pull him toward you, kissing him slowly, his hands come to your waist immediately, squeezing lightly as he kisses you back. He moans quietly into your mouth, his lips moving in sync with yours and you purr softly. You pull away a little and he follows you, making a little “nuh huh” noise, and you giggle, letting him cup the back of your head, kissing you deeper. Your hand comes up his chest, fingers pulling at the bottom of his hair when Buck clears his throat 

“A-are you guys actually kissing?” 

Eddie lets you pull away this time, letting his head rest against the wall behind him as he stares at you. You stare back, your cheeks pink as you wet your lips 

“Uh- no?” Eddie answers back and you snort 

“That was not very convincing,” You and Buck say in unison. You giggle and go to stand up to stretch your legs out when there’s a sudden loud rumbling noise 

“Edd-“ the radio buzzes as the sound gets louder 

“Y/N! Come over “ He yanks you down into his lap, pulling you tight into his body as he turns you both over, shielding you. A few panels fall loose from the ceiling around and you scream when something giant hits the door, putting a large dent in it  

“Eddie?? Eddie, are you okay? Y/N?? Anyone??” 

You sneeze as the dust settles, and Eddie pulls away from you 

“That’s your sneeze?” He coughs a little and you punch him in the shoulder 

“What’s that supposed to mean!” 

“Oh nothing… little kitty” He coos and you pick up one of the ceiling panels and threaten to hit him with it 

“Please, please anyone??” You hear Buck’s voice. Watery and worried 

“Buck? Hey, it’s us we’re okay it’s us. What happened??” 

“Oh thank god. Oh god Eddie the building settled, you guys are…. A bit more stuck. Is everything okay in there? Is Y/N okay?”

“Yeah, she’s okay. We’re both okay, just a little dusty… how much is “a bit”?”

“We’re gonna need a crane,” he says bluntly and Eddie groans 

“And we’re not high enough on the list are we?” 

“List?” You ask quietly 

“As long as neither of you are hurt and everything is still structurally sound? No.” 

Eddie sighs and looks at you “Other people need that crane more than you and I do”

“So now we’re really really stuck huh?” 

“Yup” 

It’s been two hours since the door had been blocked. You’ve got your head in Eddie’s lap as he strokes your hair slowly, listening to you talk. You’ve both gone back and forth, discussing a lot of different things, a lot of deep things that a stranger knowing wouldn’t really hurt anything…

“You think one day you’ll feel normal?” You ask quietly, picking at his pants and he shrugs, looking down at your hair around his lap 

“I don’t know” 

“For what it’s worth? I hope you find your peace Eddie… I really do” you mumble and he smiles softly 

“I dunno… this has been pretty peaceful” He chuckles quietly “Thanks uh… thanks for listening”

“Hey? What are “locked in a closet” buddies for?” 

You sit up, giving him a little kiss on the cheek, and push yourself up. He looks at you as you stretch above him, admiring your plush curves from his position on the floor. 

It wasn’t the first time the conversation had turned a little steamy, a little flirty. But it was the first time he’d felt a little bit of a pull toward you. Especially after the things he’d just told you, for the first time, he felt heard… he felt seen. Not to mention that freaking kiss, he couldn’t take his mind off of it, the feel of your lips against his, the way your body felt against him. 

“You know uh… you’re really beautiful. I can’t believe Jared fucking cheated on you.” 

Your cheeks flush as you look down at him, he’s sat between your legs, his ankles crossed. There’s no harm in letting you know how pretty he thinks you are…

“You uh… you really think so?” You blush and he nods slowly 

“He’s never seen you in a fireman’s uniform huh? Never seen the way it drowns you.” 

“Well I mean- he’s not as big as you are” 

You mean how tall he is, how… big his arms are, how broad his shoulders are- 

“I didn’t think he was… leaving such a pretty little thing like you”

“Are you flirting with me?” You turn away, toward the blocked door, and you hear his legs uncross, widening his stance. 

“Maybe? Would you mind if I was?” He twiddles his thumbs and you turn back, reaching down and grabbing his gloves, he watches you slide them on, drowning in his work outfit and it’s doing things to him if he’s being honest. Is this a kink? It feels like a new kink. 

“It’s helpful… in- in a moment where I’m not feeling so hot you know?”

“Are you joking?? You’re gonna let that asshole make you feel like you’re not the hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen? To ever exist??”

You laugh a little “Oh come on Eddie? The-“

“Hottest.” He interrupts you not even giving you room to fight him 

“I still think you’re just saying that. But thank you” You give him a little bow and he pulls you down by the jacket and you stumble onto his lap 

“Hey be careful! You might-“ 

He presses his lips to yours, his hands coming up and cupping your face. You shortcircuit for a second and he smirks against your lips. He takes your hands one by one sets them on his chest and nips at your bottom lip when you curl your fingers around his shirt 

“Now you’re getting it” He whispers breathily before slipping his tongue past your lips, taking full advantage of your floundering and exploring your mouth. His hands start to roam, sliding beneath the oversized coat and gently across your bare middle. He hums appreciatively as they come up under your shirt, the tips of his fingers trailing across the bottom of your bra 

“You can tell me to stop” He kisses down your jaw, biting on the nape of your neck and you gasp softly, melting into his body 

“N-no fucking chance. God, you’re kissing me better than he ever did” 

Eddie looks up at you as he sucks and nibbles at your collarbone “Bet there’s a whole lot of things I can do better than he ever did…” His hands cup your breasts, squeezing gently and massaging them slowly 

“We’re alone… and it seems like we’ve got time…” You trail off, your cheeks blushing and you feel him grin against your skin 

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?” 

“That depends on what you think I’m suggesting” 

Eddie takes the radio from his jacket again “Hey Buck, you there?” 

“Always” 

“Is Jared out there?” 

The line is silent for a moment and you take that opportunity to surprise Eddie, rocking your hips forward on him and attacking his lips. You kiss him frantically, your hands threading through his hair and pulling him closer. He chuckles wickedly, pushing you back onto the floor and settling between your legs, you struggle out of the coat and he laughs, helping you get it off 

“Eddie?” Buck's voice comes through the radio and he stretches to reach for it while unbuttoning your shorts at the same time 

“Here” He answers, watching you desperately unbutton his shirt 

“Why do you have so many!?” You hiss and he snorts, just ripping it open the rest of the way 

“Better??” 

You’re practically drooling over his chest, his skin smooth and tanned. You blink slowly as Buck comes back 

“Yeah, he’s definitely still here. Trust me, I’ve been making him feel as guilty as possible. I gotchu Y/N”

You pull your shirt over your head, and Eddie bites his lip 

“Damn…” 

you grin wickedly as you pull your arms from your bra straps, pushing it further down your waist and out of the way, the cool air around you causing your nipples to pebble 

“Jesus fuckin-“

“Eddie?? You there?” 

You reach forward and click the button “He’s here. Thanks for making Jared feel guilty!” 

Eddie takes your breasts in his hands, kneading them slowly, squeezing and teasing your nipples. He leans forward, kissing the valley between your breasts, pulling them together, and rubbing his face against them. He bites the sensitive skin gently, leaving teeth marks and little bruises behind. Your breath hitches, tugging at his hair and egging him on to do it again and again. 

“Fuck you’re hot” His hips grind down into yours and your thighs shake 

“I want you, Y/N” 

“Hey guys if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, Revenge sex is the way to go. Trust me I’ve been telling Jared all about how amazing and cool and sexy Eddie is!” Buck squeals through the radio and Eddie rolls his eyes as you giggle 

“Thanks, man. Thank you, uh we’re just- we’re-“ You shimmy out of your shorts, revealing the tiny thong you’d put on as a surprise and now it’s Eddie’s turn to short circuit. He stares at the sheer material covering your dripping sex. He drags his finger over the top of them, enjoying the way your slick coats his finger 

“You’re???” Buck radios and you reach forward, taking the radio back 

“Let that asshole know he’s been replaced” 

You toss it aside, Buck is making some weird strangled screaming noise and screaming at Jared when the radio cuts off. Eddie’s pants are off as fast as he possibly can and he’s stroking his cock between your thighs 

His eyes darken as he lines up his cock with your entrance, pushing inside you slowly. You’re tight, and he relishes the feeling of being inside you.

“O-oh my god- Fuck” You wriggle under him, adjusting to his size as best you can “H-holy sh-“

“Bigger?” His voice is so haughty and confident and you nod quickly, squirming 

“Sooooo much bigger” 

“You gonna be okay?” He puts his hand on your tummy, pushing you back down and you gasp loudly “Need more time?” He asks teasingly as his hips start to move slowly.

You shake your head, reaching for him and he grins, leaning into you as you rip off his gloves and claw at his back, your body arching into him eagerly 

Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunts, his hips moving in slow, deep thrusts. He kisses your neck, his other hand gripping your ass, guiding his cock in and out of your wet heat.

“You feel so good,” he pants, his pace picking up. He’s relentless, his cock hitting your G-spot with each thrust. Your legs fall open wider, your body bouncing with each snap of his hips. 

Eddie grins, feeling your legs spread wider, giving him better access. He picks up the pace, his thrusts now brutal, his cock slamming into you with every movement. “You like that, don’t you? You like it rough?” He growls, his hand gripping your throat, squeezing gently.

You’re so close, the building tension threatening to explode. Eddie can feel it too, his own release building with each thrust. He pounds into you, his grip on your throat tightening, the combination of pain and pleasure driving you both over the edge.

Eddie moans your name, his cock pulsing inside you as he comes. You cry out, your body convulsing as you reach your own climax. He holds you close, his breathing heavy as he rides out the aftershocks.

“Damn, that was hot,” he pants, his cock still buried inside you. 

“S-so- so-“ You sound delirious as he releases your throat and pulls out, leaving a trail of cum between your legs. 

“Fuck” He mumbles as he falls next to, pulling you into his arms. You curl into his body, nuzzling your nose against his chest and he buries his face in your hair 

“Uh huh” you giggle, your voice muffled 

“I- I realize” he clears his throat “We uh- we did this a bit backward… but Buck is having a cookout this weekend…you wanna be my date?” 

“Will there be other sexy firefighters?” You look up at him and he rolls his eyes, chuckling and giving your butt a little spank 

“Not as sexy as me… will you do me the honor? Y/N” 

“I’ll be there… you want my number?” You grin sleepily 

“Mhmmm” He turns over, covering you more with his body to keep you warm “Need your address too so I can pick you up” 

“What a gentleman” You giggle and he kisses your nose 

“Can I ask you somethin else?” 

“Uh-huh” 

“You uh…. Think you might be okay with just skipping to being my girlfriend?” 

“That depends” You murmur, your voice becoming a lot softer as you start to fall asleep 

“On?” He gives you a little nudge so you wake up 

“If you don’t mind skipping straight to being my boyfriend?“

“Oh hell yes” 

You’re not really sure how long you've been asleep, but Eddie is shaking you gently. Your clothes are back on properly and you’re wrapped up in his jacket still. He’s got his clothes back on and his shirt is as closed as he can get it. You can hear the sounds of the crane working to get you two out 

“Time to leave?” You ask, rubbing your eyes and Eddie gives you a thumbs up 

“Time to leave baby girl” 

Your cheeks flush deeply, It had felt like a dream honestly, you weren’t even sure it had happened. But when Eddie grabs your hips and kisses you again desperately you know it wasn’t. 

The door flies open and slams against the wall, you shriek as you pull away, covering your eyes from the sunlight on your face

“Y/N!!!, Eddie!!” 

You recognize the voice from the radio as he comes over and scoops you up, hugging you as tightly as he can 

“You’re okay!!” 

Eddie gets up from the floor, groaning loudly and stretching his back “I am too damn old for this” 

You snort as Buck picks Eddie’s helmet up off the floor and sets it on your head 

“You ready to get out of here cutie?” Buck takes your hand and you look up at Eddie who shrugs his shoulders 

“I’m ready” 

Buck helps you out carefully, climbing over a few pieces of debris left in the way. 

“Hey, you sure you didn’t get hurt?” He’s standing in front of you, his hands on your hips as he steadies you. Eddie lands on his feet easily, adjusting his shirt again to try and keep it closed 

“What uh- what do you mean?” You ask as you shrug off Eddie’s coat and hand it to him 

“You’re walking funny, honey. And you wince every time-“ He stops for a minute, his eyes widening 

“Did- did you guys actually-“ 

He’s interrupted by a man calling your name, he’s got a black eye and you slap your hand over your mouth 

“You seriously punched him?!” You laugh to Buck as Jared comes over 

“And it’s so worth the amount of trouble I got in” He snickers as Jared stops in front of you 

“Baby?? Baby, are you okay?” He holds your arms, looking you over and you blink slowly

“Are you kidding?? I thought when I ran out of your office screaming that we were over? That was enough to let you know Hey! We’re over!” 

“Baby, what are you talking about?” Jared chuckles awkwardly “That- that didn’t happen, honey”

Buck whirls on him and he flinches a little but keeps his eyes on you. Eddie is sitting quietly in the back of the ambulance being looked over 

“Uhhh what??” You scoff in bewilderment 

“Gosh Baby” he laughs, “I think you hit your head, sweetie” 

Your mouth drops open and you shove Jared away 

“I know- I fucking know” you shout “You are not trying to convince me I didn’t see you fucking Angela!!!!” 

“Y/N honey you need to calm down. This is not the way my girlfriend should be-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Eddie is up and he’s on the ground. It happens so fast you’re not even sure you saw it, Eddie punched him right across the face, sending him spinning to the ground 

“I think you mean my girlfriend. Come on gorgeous let’s go get something to eat I’m starving.” 

Buck runs in circles screaming and pointing at Jared as Eddie puts his arm over your shoulders and you proudly lead him over to your car. 

“Yo you just got yo ass WHOOPED” 

[its-time-to-write]

how about a Jamie x reader fic when they go away to Amsterdam they sit together on bus and they wake up cuddling and then there’s an issue w hotel booking and there’s a one bed trope and they end up waking up cuddled together and then they admit feelings and reader goes to game with a tartt jersey on <3

I’ve been thinking about this forever, and I’m terribly sorry it took so long!! I do enjoy being an adult, but I’m at a point in life where I don’t have much free time and if I do, I use it to sleep😂

I really miss the days when Ted Lasso was still airing and the x reader tags had new content every day. I feel like that one meme of Thanos when he’s like “Fine. I’ll do it myself.” Shoutout to all y’all who are still here and reading my stuff! Love you!!

smile at me

It’s straight-up fucked. It really, really is. But also maybe it’s good, as Keeley pointed out, because not having a boyfriend anymore means you can focus on yourself?

Or something. 

Of course he had to break up with you right before leaving for Amsterdam. Hell, he broke up with you because you were leaving for Amsterdam. 

“I don’t want you going to another country with a bunch of other guys,” he had said. “It’s them or me.”

“It’s literally my job,” you told him. 

Apparently, that didn’t matter. 

But what-fucking-ever, you’re at Keeley’s waiting for a car to take you to the airport, and she’s promised to make sure you don’t think about your stupid ex even once. 

It’s times like these you wish Ted were still here with a spot-on pun and some dad-type advice. All you ever get from Beard is a weird anecdote and a vaguely threatening look. 

Keeley chatters on for the entirety of the ride to the airport, through customs, and all the way to the lounge. 

“You’re gonna get loads of great content for the socials, babe. Candids, action shots, behind-the-scenes. Friendlies are fucking amazing!”

Last time Richmond were in Amsterdam, they had lost horribly. They’re hoping to make up for it this time around. 

The plane is full of Greyhounds, both footballers and coaches alike, with Rebecca at the very front. Keeley plops done in the seat next to her as Dani waves at you from the middle. 

“I saved you a seat!” he calls. You smile as Sam takes your bag to put it in the overhead. “Thanks, Dani. You excited?”

Dani grins. “I think this time I am ready to see a whole field of tulips!”

You laugh as the lads roll their eyes. Jamie leans across the aisle toward you and says, “Oi, what’s the twat doing while you’re away?” 

You press your lips into a thin line. “Not a clue.”

He raises an eyebrow and says, “You break up with him?”

“He broke up with me.”

Jamie twists his face into a scoff. “And you wonder why I call him the fucking twat. Prick. Bet it was so he could finally fuck his coworker.”

You shrug. Jamie’s never liked your boyfriend. It’s not like you were together long, only a few months. And sure, he was a little bit of a twat, but sue you. You had a special place in your heart for pricks with a heart of gold, only he didn’t even have a heart at all. 

“You should date someone better,” Jamie continues. 

You glare at him and retort, “Oh yeah, because it’s just that easy. You got some one in mind?”

Jamie gives you his most angelic look and says, “What about me?” which makes half the plane dissolve into laughter, yourself included. 

“Cheers, Jamie,” you say as you wipe your eyes. “I needed that.”

A strange look crosses his face, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual cocky expression. “Anytime, love,” he replies as you turn to start a conversation with Dani. 

As much as you’d like that, Jamie would never date you. His joke stings a little but you brush it off. Maybe you’ll find another twat in Amsterdam to distract yourself from the fact that you’re half in love with Jamie Tartt.

—

“I’m sorry, we don’t have a booking under you name,” the hotel concierge says.

You tap your nails to your wrist. “Are you positive? I’m with AFC Richmond, they should’ve had one.”

The concierge taps on his computer for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I’m afraid we don’t have anything. And all of our rooms are booked this weekend. Might I recommend the hotel down the road?”

Damn it. There’s no way this is happening. Everyone else has gotten to their rooms without a hitch and here you are, alone in the lobby as you pull out your phone to call Keeley. There’s no way this is fucking happening. 

“Everything alright?” asks a voice behind you, and you jump. 

“They don’t have a room for me, and they’re fully booked,” you explain. 

Jamie looks at the concierge, who shrugs apologetically, then back to you. He asks, “Why don’t you share with me?” and you frown. 

“I thought you were rooming with Declan,” you say. 

Jamie lifts a shoulder. “Yeah, but he switched with Richard because O’Brien fucking snores and he don’t give a shit.”

You say, “So you’re with Richard, then,” and he shakes his head. 

“Nah, Richard’s with Jan.”

“I thought Dani was with Jan,” you say. These fucking footballers. What’s the point in having set rooms if they’re just going to switch it all up.

“Dani is with Jan,” Jamie says patiently, as if this all the most obvious thing in the world. “But Dani’s a cuddler, so he’s probably going to fucking end up with, I don’t know, Isaac or someone. Which means I get a room all to meself.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “Alright, I can do that. As long as you don’t mind.”

Jamie winks. “Sharing a room with a pretty girl for four days? Ain’t a problem, love.”

You laugh and follow him to the elevator.

—

It feels a bit like playing with fire, agreeing to room with Jamie. Especially since you’re freshly single and definitely open to a rebound. But there will be two beds and a lot of space and anyway, you’ll be busy with the match and social media, respectively. 

Except as soon as you walk through the door, you realize there’s a tiny little hitch.

“There’s one bed,” you blurt out, so surprised you’re unable to filter your words. Jamie blushes a little bit as he says, “Yeah, um, Cockburn and I hate sleeping alone, so we asked for one. He grew up sharing a bed with his brothers and I just fucking hate being alone. I can sleep on the couch if you want.”

“No,” you say firmly, “you need good rest. It’s not a problem.”

It’s not a problem. 

Or at least it wouldn’t have been if Isaac had been a shittier captain. 

But as it is he’s great, so he’s got the whole team going out to dinner at a pre-determined location complete with a dress code of no t-shirts and apparently you count as part of the team, so you have to go too. You’re in your massive bathroom trying to curl your disgusting travel hair when Jamie walks in wearing one of those white hotel bathrobes.

He asks, “You mind if I’m in here?” so you shake your head, struck temporarily mute by his bare clavicle. Fucking hell, you feel like a repressed Victorian woman. 

Jamie says, “Mint,” and goes about his alarmingly detailed skincare routine. You’re pretty sure you’re done with your hair so you crane your neck in an attempt to check the back. 

“Missed a spot,” Jamie says. “Want me to get it for you?”

You shoot him a dubious look but hand him the curler. He runs a hand through your hair, picking up the offending strand and it’s all you can do not to shiver. 

“Mum taught me,” he explains and you nod ever so slightly, not wanting him to accidentally burn your neck. Jamie says, “All good,” and runs his whole hand through your hair this time, making the curls bounce. 

You choke out, “Thanks,” and hurriedly put away your things, desperate to leave before Jamie can pick up on the fact that you can barely handle being in the same room as him, and that you have great concerns about what the night will bring. 

—

“You look fucking hot,” is the first thing Rebecca says when you meet her in the lobby. Keeley looks mildly offended that Rebecca took the words out of her mouth, but she just laughs and taps your arm. 

“Gonna break a few hearts tonight, yeah?” she grins.

You’re not sure about that, especially since dinner turns out to be a very domestic affair. It’s loud, sure, but it’s definitely toned down since it’s a pre-match celebration instead of a post-match one. You’re with Sam, Keeley, and Roy with Jamie far, far away. You push all thoughts of him from your brain only for memories of your ex to surface. You frown. 

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Roy says and for a moment, you think he’s talking to you. But he’s actually talking to Jamie who has moved from his place across the restaurant to right behind your chair. 

“Fuck off grandad,” Jamie says good-naturedly. “Wanted to tell this one that some of the lads are going out dancing after this. Not too late,” he hastily adds at Roy’s burning scowl, “just for two hours and we’re only allowed one drink.”

You’re pretty sure that’s a bit more liberal than Roy likes, but he nods his head slightly so he must be in a good mood.

“So, you coming?” Jamie asks and before you can reply Sam and Keeley chorus, “Yes she is.”

You give Keeley a Look before turning back to Jamie. “Guess I am,” you reply.

The smile Jamie gives you does more to make your head spin than any amount of alcohol you’ve had in your lifetime.

—

Jamie has taken it upon himself to wipe that frown off your face. He might have been watching you over dinner and that might have been why he chose that exact moment to invite you out, but he’ll never fucking admit it to anyone except Sam. And Keeley. And maybe Cockburn when it was the off-season and they were a little tipsy. (But not drunk, never drunk.) 

So yeah, sue him if he’s spinning you around on the crowded dance floor just because it makes you laugh. It’s not his fault that he’s been wildly in love with you since the day Higgins hired you. It’s not his fault that you’re easy to be around and have the most beautiful smile he’s seen in his life. 

And fuck, it certainly isn’t his fault you can’t see in yourself what others do. Why you settled for a piece of shit like your ex, he’ll never know. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do his best to show you how special you are. He knows you’ll never feel the same about him, but maybe he can help you level up your standards. Maybe if you’re with someone good, it’ll hurt less that it’s not him. 

So he lets you hold his hand for the entirety of the two hours that the team is out and doesn’t say a word when you don’t let go in the cab back to the hotel. 

You’ve gotten that closed-off look in your eyes again, the one that means you’re thinking about your ex, so Jamie knocks his shoulder into yours and asks why he can’t have the password to the team’s Instagram account, which is a sure fire way to get you to lecture him on irresponsibility and aesthetics and the best way to get your eyes to come back to life.

—

Honestly, it’s easier to fall asleep than you might have expected. It’s a big bed and you’re fucking tired. 

You just didn’t expect to wake up in the middle of the night crying, but it’s always fucking like this when you go through a breakup. You go to sleep fine and wake up sad, so you do your best not to wake up Jamie except you’ve both ended up entangled in each other’s arms, so he can feel you shaking. 

“Hey,” Jamie says in a soft voice, “You’re okay, love.”

You half expect him to push you away once he realizes you’re so close, but he only pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. Maybe it’s because you’re both half-asleep, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

You sigh and settle into him, drifting off in a matter of moments. 

—

You wake up to a pair of blue eyes watching you. 

“How you feeling?” Jamie asks, voice gravelly with sleep. 

You just blink at him. It’s hard to form coherent sentences within the first ten seconds of waking up, and even harder with the memory of Jamie’s arms around you last night. 

Wait. Not just the memory. The present reality because neither of you have moved. 

Jamie misinterprets your silence and begins to extricate his arms.

“Sorry,” he says, “I’m not to trying to like, cross and fucking boundary or something. Should’ve left you alone.”

You’re still not awake enough to talk so you grab him to stop him from moving away. He gives you a questioning look so you say, “I wouldn’t have agreed to share a bed if I thought you were a creep.”

Jamie grins. “So like, if Jan had offered to share a room you’d’ve said no.”

You wrinkle your nose as you say, “Jan’s not a creep.”

“He’s the fucking worst,” Jamie grumbles, “And anyway, can we not talk about Jan fucking Maas this early in the morning?”

“Sure,” you say, “let’s talk about something else.”

Despite your comment, you both lapse into silence. You’re enraptured by Jamie’s blue eyes. You’ve never been able to study them this close before, and you want to take this opportunity to memorize every fleck of green. 

Jamie seems to have a similar thought, except his gaze flicks to your lips. 

“I have morning breath,” you tell him and he says, “Real men don’t give a shit, babe,” before leaning forward.

It’s softer than you’d expected, sweeter. 

It’s also strange to think that you’re making out with Jamie in bed, and that he’s the one who initiated it.

The thought is so absurd that you giggle, mid-kiss. Jamie breaks away and says, “Oi, there’s no way that was a shit kiss.”

“No,” you say between giggles, “it’s just weird that we’re doing this. Like, how are we supposed to look each other in the eye after?”

Jamie moves so he can look at you better, and you roll from your side to your back. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“Oh come on, we share a room and a bed, we kiss because I have all these sad feelings and you’re feeling a lot of emotions about the match, and then we have to work together after. It’s silly.”

Jamie cocks his head. “That’s what you think is happening?”

“Yes?” you say. None of this is going how it’s supposed to. “What do you think is happening?”

“I like you,” he says, and there is absolutely no mistaking his meaning. 

“Oh,” you reply in a small voice. “Since when?”

“Since before you started dating the twat. When Higgins introduced ya to the team.”

“That’s a fucking long time ago!” you exclaim. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Jamie rubs his face. “Yeah, ‘cept you showed up to work tellin’ everyone how you started dating the twat. And I ain’t a home wrecker.”

You groan. “Fuuuck. I literally only dated him to try to get over you.”

Jamie shoots up. “What?!”

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ve been like a little bit in love with you ever since you winked at me during that first promo I did.”

Jamie blows out a breath. “Okay. Think that’s enough talking. C’mere. We’re making out proper, like, then we’re going to breakfast.”

You grin as you climb onto his lap.