#i'm not saying it would have gone smoothly or well

[mirellapryce]

It is time to hurt you all again with one of my first thoughts I had when I joined this fandom. It starts with Charles' parents right after he died. Charles' mum looking through photos of Charles for the funeral, and she finds the classic baby photo of baby Charles sleeping on his sleeping dad's bare chest. She's been barely holding it together, but this is what sets her off. This is what has her screaming at her husband for the first time. THIS is the man she married! THIS is the father to her baby boy! Her baby boy is dead, but where has THAT MAN been for all these years? How could THAT MAN have hurt her son?

She's crying and yelling, and shoving the photo in his face. She's been trying to hold it together for much longer than the week since Charles died, and this is everything coming out at once. Charles' dad would normally snap in anger, but that photo - he takes one look and everything hits him too. His son is dead. His baby boy is dead and not coming back. Before that, he hurt Charles, and over WHAT? He made his son afraid of him, and now he'll never have the chance to make up for it. He's crying too, and this is the worst way it could have happened, but maybe now is the chance for him to change.

[coweye]

The Honda Odyssey

Logan Howlett x Reader | smut | 6k words Summary: The car fight reimagined and it only needed to be like 10% more erotic than the original.

I got carried away. I just love Wolvie so much. I'm so happy Logan is getting the adoration he deserves. Long live the Wolverine renaissance.

Warning: smut, p in v, ass play, foul language.

If you had to pinpoint a moment when your life became the shit show it had steadily developed into, you’d say it was the moment you auditioned for X-Force.

In your tenure as besties with Wade Wilson, it's fair to say things hadn’t gone smoothly. The man was a conduit to all things fucked up, but you adored his loose morals and quick mouth. The idiot in red had weaselled his way into your heart and became something of a brother to you and more recently a roommate.

Now, if you’d have told your younger self you’d be in your late twenty’s sharing an apartment with a burn victim who regularly staples a toupee to his fucking head and a coke-head, blind, old African American woman, you’d have laughed in their fucking face.

So, you’d like to think that as these things go you are pretty damn well adjusted but traversing the multiverse was a bit of a stretch, even for you.

One moment you’re at Wade’s surprise party, the next your ass has been zapped to the TVA and you’ve been given a sacred mission; to accompany Marvel Jesus (Wade) and protect the sacred timeline.

Naturally you’re fucking mind blown, you’re a low-level mutant, fuck, you couldn’t even join the X-Men.  Your particular set of skills were a dime a dozen and your flagrant disregard of rules had made you a ‘poor candidate’.

No, the mutant powers you had been graced with weren’t extraordinary by any means. You were basically an off-brand Captain America, just without the gorgeous cheekbones, patriotism and righteous need to do good.

In layman terms, you are strong as shit and have an accelerated healing factor. Not quite the same level as Wade’s mind you. You have, give or take, an inconvenient five-minute turnaround on the more fatally debilitating wounds.

To say you were unqualified was an understatement and to say you were reluctant was a simple fact. A fact you repeated, loudly to anyone that would listen as you were bathed in rich black leather.

“I think maybe you meant to grab negasonic teenage whatchacallit… she’s great, super powerful!” You continue. “Did you mean to get Domino or Colossus or maybe one of the X-Men? “

“No Miss Y/L/N. We have not got the wrong person for the job.” The man you later find out is called Paradox, calls out as you re-enter the operation headquarters. “Mr Wilson requested your presence; he wanted your assistance on his mission.”

“Y/N/N… ten out of ten, baby girl, I one hundred percent would bang. I’m talking raw dog, Barry White on a rug, let’s go all fuckin’ night.”  Wade hollers in his own brand-new suit and even you must admit, you look fucking amazing. “Sweet angel, we’ve just gotta’ come up with a superhero name for you!”

You are enrobed in rich thick black and teal leather, your first ever hero suit and it’s a fucking good one. It doesn’t cling, but instead pulls you in securing your flesh and extenuating curves, ones you hadn’t entirely realised you had. The bottom half your face is concealed with a mask, carefully crafted to follow the contours of your nose and cheekbones.

You’d barely recognised the mysterious figure in the mirror.

“Right?! Tailor was pretty handsy though!”

“Oh yeah, ha! - that man is indeed a predator.” Wade says with a chuckle and a fond sigh.

It shames to you to say but that’s when you stopped fighting this whole thing. You looked the part of a hero; you thought that maybe the TVA knew what they were doing. That they had seen something in you and knew that you had a good heart under all the darkness that lingered on the surface.

Wrong.

You were just a demand Wade had made. He wanted his number one disciple at his side whilst he carried out his sacred mission. You were part of an attempt at appeasing him whilst they destroyed your timeline.

Little more than a pawn to be used whilst they manipulated him into a false sense of security.

Thus, you were thrown into a series of events far beyond your control when Wade being Wade decided you were hunting down a Wolverine to stabilise the timeline, only to be once again fucking zapped into some place they called the void by that little English shitbird named Paradox. It’s entirely accurate to say that you were a little less sturdy than your compadres.

Unfortunately for you, the fall from such a height into the void was fatal. When you finally awake in the desolate wasteland to the sounds of blades clashing it is disorientating to say the least.

Forcing yourself to your feet you lower your mask and gasp in the sweet strangely stale oxygen as you stretch out your newly healed spine with a groan. It was impossible to tell how long you were out as you take in the scene before you; Wade and the Wolverine are engaged in a heated battle. From the looks of it, Logan is winning this fight despite being the human equivalent of a knife block with Wade’s katanas protruding from his chest.

For a moment you pause, perhaps its head trauma that hasn’t healed (He’s fucking Deadpool, he can look after himself for two minutes) and appreciate his form, the Wolverine the two of you had kidnapped was gorgeous. Tch, as if there was any other kind.

Sure, you were biased you’d always been somewhat of a fangirl, but the Wolverine was objectively breath-taking.

You’d indulged in comics whilst growing up but when you found out he was real and looked the way he did, hell, Wolverine was your sexual awakening. He was the first man to make you feel that tingle in your lower stomach. Yes, you may have been thirteen years old, a ball of puppy fat and social anxiety but you’d been waiting for him ever since. 

You’re snapped out of your reverie when Wade loses baby knife in Logan’s shoulder blade, finally you spring into action. In good time as well as you’re not sure if even Deadpool can survive decapitation.

In the singularly most stupid act of your life you throw yourself in front of your friend’s body. “Wait, Wait! Please!”  

Wade has paused behind you, you can feel him weighing up the situation, pausing for a moment to see what you’re going to pull out of the bag.

“The TVA they can fix it, whatever you did, whatever made you the worst Logan, they can fix it! – They have the power to end universes, but they also have the power to fix yours! Help us get back there and we can fix both of our worlds! I promise, they can fix it.” You plead, it’s not quite a lie exactly, more of an Educated Wish than anything.

Okay it is a lie, but you’re sure that the TVA can most likely, probably, maybe fix his world.

Logan’s eyes lock with yours in that moment you can see that he wants to kill you both and be done with it, but that hope won’t let him. You feel a smidgen of guilt for the deceit, but frankly you’ve done worse for less. Your world was on the line it wasn’t the time to pull your punches.

Fast forward four exhausting hours, two periods of unconsciousness and one flaying to find yourself sat opposite Wade gagging down cold spoonful’s of Spam in some dusty ass diner.

You were no better than a man as you watched the Wolverine.

Those arms, those thighs, the way he had beheaded Sabretooth without even breaking a fucking sweat. You wanted him to wrap those instruments of death he called hands around your throat and fuck you dirty until the sun came up.

It had been a long exhausting day and you had been soaking wet for most of it.

Shit, could he smell that? Does that count as sexual harassment? You’d have to ask Wade.

Logan, however, was utterly dismissive of your advances in the face of what was undoubtedly utterly horrific past trauma. Something you were trying to be understanding about, but self-pity in a man, it just turned you on. I said you had some surface layers of darkness.

Unable to help yourself you gaze at him as he opens a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You are utterly entranced, watching the thick chords in his throat bob as he takes a swig.

That tanned skin where his jaw ends and neck begins, slick with sweat and dirt. You’d love to sink your canines into the strip below his ear. He must feel your stare on him as he looks up and catches your eyes dark with lust already surveying his person.

It should embarrass you, that every time he peers your way, he catches you gaping at him like a lovesick puppy, but there’s something about Logan you can’t quite put your finger on. The man heats your blood like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, maybe it’s that torch you’ve carried for him since girlhood, maybe it’s the thick thighs you’d kill to ride – who can say for sure?

In what you assume is against his better judgement, he comes to perch on the booth beside you. His broad shoulders cast an imposing figure as he gets close enough that if you were to move your hand a couple of inches to the right, you’d finally be able to touch that yellow fabric that plagued your tween dreams.

You’re burning up at the thought of him, unable to stop yourself you part your legs slightly to ease some of the pressure. Logans nose twitches, his head swivels your way and his eyes catch your own.  

Welp - at least you have your answer about him smelling your arousal.

Deciding that you were most likely verging on sexual harassment charges you decided to focus back in on the task at hand, gagging once again at another spoonful of spam.

“Be a good girl and swallow, Y/N/N, you know the rules!” Wade jokes, your chortle was your only response. What could you say? He always hit your funny bone despite the ocean that was raging in your panties.

Logan stares at Wade for a long moment before turning to your way and addressing you for maybe only the fourth time today?

“What are you doing with this fucking clown? You his sidekick? Following him round to laugh at his stupid fucking jokes whilst he gets kids killed?”

“Why I have never.” Wade is faux outraged at his words, clutching his imaginary pearls as the Wolverine throws around accusations that aren’t entirely untrue.

The Wolverine’s expression remains stern as his eyes track your face. They seem to be evaluating your character and from the flare in his nose and crease in his brow you can guess he finds you lacking. You’re embarrassed to admit how much that deflates you, so you do what you do best; you deflect.

 “I could follow you around and laugh at your jokes instead, if you like?” When you speak your voice has a sultry edge to it and there’s no mistaking your intentions.

Logan seems to think on your proposition for a second or two, before he huffs grabs his rubbing alcohol and unopened can of Spam and heads over to sit at the bar.

“Holy hot ham and cheese on rye, Y/N, you fucking slut.” Wade berates you though his voice is as light as it’s always been as he boots your shin under the table. “Trying to your holes filled by Wolvie during a world saving mission, Marvel H Christ, stay on fucking task!”

You swear you hear Logan mutter a Jesus Christ from the bar.

Though as Wade continues irritating the hero hunched against bar, you can’t help the realisation that he didn’t say no.

“You’re uh… well regarded in our world.” Wade complements, being real doesn’t come easy to him. You appreciate the effort.

“Well, I’m not shit in mine.”

“I tried to join the X-Men because of you.” You speak up finally joining their conversation. Wolverine’s back goes rigid, but he doesn’t respond. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to continue or hoping you’ll stop. “You made a difference to this world, made me think I could do the same. I just never quite make the cut.”

Logan doesn’t seem to have a response.

It seems your words have an effect as you catch him watching you more often. When Wade makes his jokes, he looks to you for validation of his withering looks.

You’re probably more distracted by this revelation than you should be when the three of you come across a real nasty variant of Colossus seeking out Wade for… you want to say… revenge?

The not-so-gentle-anymore-giant flips the Honda and tosses both Wade and Logan through the treeline as they advance on him as if they were little more than toys his mother had asked him to pick up.

One by one your bullets ricochet from his metal skin as he comes towards you. You aren’t built for this fight; you are completely and utterly outmatched.

All you’re doing at this point is buying yourself some time for your backup to pull themselves from the rubble, however during a particularly spirited cartwheel the metal oaf finally gets his hands on you. Colossus’ metal palm is cold on your throat, and you could swear you hear your neck snapping before you feel it.  

With a gasp you return to life to find a slightly dishevelled Logan standing above you. By the grace of god, his sleeves have been worn away in the fight, his arms, oh sweet lord, his arms are on full display.

“Thought you were a goner.” He offers you a hand when you simply stare mutely his way. Locking your fingers around his wrist he pulls you to your feet. You don’t release your hold on him and neither does he.

“Don’t throw the party just yet, eh?” You joke weakly, for a second you could swear there’s a slight raise of the corner of his mouth, imperceptible, if you didn’t know what you were looking for. In the past few hours you had become an expert on Wolverine’s face.  

Your mouth is dry as you take in his thick sweat laden biceps.

“Where’s Wade?” You query whilst rolling your aching neck as you haven’t heard his voice in a record thirty seconds, Logan suddenly remembers himself and drops your hand.

“’fraid Metal man took your clown, was pissed with him and can’t say I blame the guy.”

“Shit.” You sigh rubbing your temples as you kneel to pick up the dismembered arm of your best friend. “Well – fuck. That’ll take him a few hours at least to grow back – He’ll be so sad about his suit.”

You peel the fabric from the limb and tuck it under the breast plate of your own suit. Wade will want his glove back when it grows back.

“He say where he was taking him?”

“Oh yeah, that along with his plan for world domination...” Logan huffs as if your mere presence annoys him.

“Thought you didn’t like sarcasm.”

“I like sarcasm just fine, Bub. It’s you I don’t like.” You can’t help but smile his way at the comment made at your expense, his brows crease. “You’re a strange one.”

“Can you do your sniffy thing?”  Its impressive, you thought he’d reached the limit with his scathing looks towards Wade, yet he somehow manages to pull a deeper frown out the vault especially for you.

“Sniffy thing?” His words are spoken with such derision, it turns you on a little. You realise that perhaps you are in fact a deeply troubled individual.

“Oh, sorry.” You pretend to clear a frog in your throat. “Please, oh, please, beautiful, handsome Wolverine, please can you locate my bestest pal with your heightened sense of smell?” His face doesn’t break despite your hands clasped in front of your chin.

“You’re just as fucking annoying as that moron.” He huffs “Get in the fucking car, we’ll follow his trail.”

“You can smell him from the car?”

“The blood, Jesus Fucking Christ, there’s a trail of blood.”

“Ah.” Is all you reply as you find your seat in the passenger side and start your own one on one team up with Wolverine. Its not exactly the way you imagined it, but beggars certainly can’t be choosers.

After a few moments of sullen silence, you decide that there’s no time like the present to form a long-lasting bond.

“What’s your world like?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Okay... What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they can save your world? I bet its something boring as fuck, like team-“

“What did you just say?”

“I bet you’re gonna do something boring like-“

“No before that.”

“What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they save your world?” You question, his sudden interest in your words takes you by surprise as he has been vacant from your conversation.

The breaks suddenly shriek as the car comes to a stop.

“What do you mean if?”

“I…”

“You said they could fix my world. Undo it all, is what you fucking said.”

“I mean I think they can!”

“You fucking liar.” The edge to The Wolverine’s voice is terrifying. The realisation trickles down your spine, Logan has been nice to you all this time, you’re finally meeting The Wolverine.

“I didn’t lie!” For some reason you’re ashamed of your deceit, you’ve murdered countless people and still, you’ve felt less remorse. Logan’s eyes pin you in your seat as disgust clouds his face. It hurts more than you can fathom. “Not exactly, I think they can fix your world! – I needed your help and if you killed Wade there was no hope for my universe!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your universe!” He spits your way; his hands are gripping the wheel in what seems like an effort to keep his cool.

“I know, but I do!” You cry back at him. “You know how to save the world, you’re the fucking Wolverine! I know how to kill people, but this hero shit, this isn’t me!”

“Ha! No shit.” There is pure hate in the man’s eyes as he stares back at you.

“Please, you’re Logan. Whether you’re the worst one or not - You’re still better than me.”

“Get out of the fucking car.” The words come from between clenched teeth and are filled with warning.

“No – fuck you.”  Your rage breaks the banks to meet Logan’s. Perhaps it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fear for Wade but something within you snaps at his constant bad temper. “It was an educated guess and a fucking reasonable one at that, get the fuck over yourself you big bird wannabe geriatric fucker! “

He slams his palms on the steering wheel, his nose flares and his teeth clamp together.  “Fuck me? Fuck you – you sad pathetic excuse for a side-kick. No wonder the X-Men wouldn’t take you, and they’ll take fuckin’ anyone. You are a ridiculous, immature, moron who spends her days following around a fucking clown to avoid facing the reality that you are no one. I have never met a sadder, more attention starved asshole in my entire life. You were right about one thing, you’re no fucking hero.”

Its shameful the way your stomach drops, and your eyes involuntarily begin to tear. To hear your hero say the words you’ve thought about yourself whilst laying awake at night. It’s a knife to the gut.

“Nothing to fucking say, huh, Angel?” The use of Wade’s nickname for you is like sandpaper on your skin, it rubs you the wrong fucking way.

“I am going to hurt you now.” Your voice is barely a broken whisper.

“You’re going to hurt – “His faux chortle is cut short by a swift punch to his face. You’re worried you may have been overzealous with your swing when his nose begins bleeding. The Wolverine is stunned for only a moment before he grabs the back of your neck and proceeds with smashing your face into the dashboard and those concerns are quickly put to bed.

The old fucker is strong, but you don’t think he’ll kill you, yet another educated wish.

“Not so tough now…” He shouts as the radio channels change with your skull. Pulling a knife from your leg strap you embed it in his thigh and pull the lever to recline your seat whilst he’s distracted, luckily, you’re not there when he swings for retribution.

Though one of his fucking steak knives catches your upper arm slicing through the leather. Warm blood trickles down your arm, staining the beige interior of the poor Honda. 

Your legs are your strongest asset, so when he attempts to restrain you with the seatbelt, you are presented with your window of opportunity. You wrap them around his neck as you pivot your hips slamming the Wolverine headfirst into the metal of the door. Once, twice, three times - on the fourth he lands a fist to your gut, luckily, he has retracted his claws.

If he was willing to kill you, you wouldn’t stand a chance.

You’re winded struggling to catch your breath from the gut punch, but you manage pull the knife from his thigh that is nestled between your legs and thrust it into his neck, you aim for the spot you’d fantasied about kissing before he’d torn your character apart piece by piece, now you just want to bathe in his fucking blood.

It was the pain that instantaneously made his claws extend. He’s quick to move them, though he slices through the sides of your suit as he buries them in the chair behind you. Your ribs are a bloodied mess though you don’t care, in a few hours they’ll be good as new.

Logan has seized the opportunity and has your arms pinned to your sides, his blood has cooled a little more than yours, he doesn’t seem to want to murder you over an argument.

Perhaps he’s more well-adjusted than yourself, that thought alone should concern you, except it just enrages you further.

“You stupid fuckin-“The Wolverine starts admonishing you, before you swing your head forward and headbutt him.

Yes.

You really do that.

You headbutt the man with the adamantium fucking skeleton– at full strength. Its sheer dumb luck you don’t crack your own skull in the process– maybe Logan was right, you are fucking dumb.

“Fucking fuck!” You cry grabbing your forehead and writhing. Noone wins with a headbutt, except Logan apparently.

“Fucking stop that.” Your writhing has pushed your core against his crotch, and he is already packing quite the heat at what feels like half-mast. He grabs your hips to stop your movement, but it only seems to push you closer. “Stop fucking moving.”

The constant arousal you’ve felt since meeting him returns in double time, Logan’s nostrils flare and his eyes darken. It’s debased and you’re ashamed that you want him, you haven’t stopped wanting him, despite the awful fucking words that left his mouth minutes ago.

“Like … a little pain Wolvie?”

Its relief you feel, you think, when instead of answering or punching you in the face, he closes the gap.

The Wolverine’s claws retract, and he grabs at your chin. Logan’s mouth utterly devours your own, your front tooth clashes with his own as you push yourself upwards, you pull your knife out of his neck, catching his grunt of pain on your tongue as you begin licking your way down his thick throat.

The vein you’d spotted hours ago is throbbing freshly healed, you sink your canines into the flesh and its as good as you’d fucking imagine. His groan is utterly beast-like as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

The Wolverine’s throat tastes like salt and iron. Thick, tangy and warm on your tongue as you soothe the bite. It drives Logan wild, thrusting his hardened member against your warmth. One of his gloved hands rises to lock on the back of your neck to pull you into yet another earth-shattering kiss.  His sharp hot tongue slides against your own, exploring the expanses of your mouth like its his to claim.

You bite at him again then, your teeth catching his bottom lip sharply.  Logan groans into your mouth before you use every ounce of your enhanced strength to throw him backwards against the dashboard.

He is taken utterly by surprise as his head slams into the windscreen cracking the glass with a grunt. When he looks your way Logan’s eyes are blackened with desire, he is utterly wild.

Slowly as if afraid to make any sudden moves, you unzip your combat boots, your eyes never leaving his. One boot and then the next.

You thank the TVA’s tailor for making your suit a two piece as you shuffle backwards into the backseat, pushing the thick leather down your legs all whilst maintaining eye contact with the beast leaning against the dashboard.

“You sure you want this Darlin’?”

“Darlin’?” You question mockingly, your voice lowering to imitate his own, as you wantonly spread your legs, your bare leg resting next to the headrest. Only a pair of black cotton panties separate him from your most intimate parts and his eyes are locked on your clothed core. “a second ago it was ‘Pathetic Moron’ to you.”

Your head tilts in question as his eyes lock back on your own, you think perhaps for a moment something akin to regret passes over his face, but you’ve never been entirely comfortable with feelings, so you drop your hand into the waistband of your panties, you’ve barely circled your opening with your pointer finger before he’s on you.

“That’s my job, you fucking Moron.” He plunges two bare thick fingers into your heat. Gasping you throw your head back against the headrest, it’s a tight fit and its been a while but the slight burn eases some of the aching in your core.  “You’re fuckin’ soaking wet, you like it huh, bub? Making me bleed?”

Your grab his jaw, your nails digging into his flesh. “I’d like to bathe in-” He scissors his fingers finding that spot inside you and you let out an embarrassing noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “-Your fucking blood… you mean motherfucker.”

You’re an absolute goner when he starts rubbing your clit, after a day of foreplay your body seizes, and you grab at the nape of his neck trying to find something to anchor you down. But as fast as the build was you come tumbling down just as quickly, when he cruelly withdraws his hands.

“No! - Wha- what the fuck?!” You’re almost crying as your torn from the precipice.

Logan flips you over onto your stomach before you can complain any further, your face down on the filthy upholstery as he pulls your panties from your hips. You can’t see him from this angle, though you can feel his warm hands tracing the globes of your ass.

You force your knees further apart, pushing your bare soaking pussy against the tight bulge of his yellow suit. If you had enough of your facilities about you, you’d be embarrassed that you’re currently rubbing your cunt against The Wolverine like a bitch in heat after he’d chewed you out only minutes ago.

Logan’s hand dip between your thighs, his fingers swirl along your hole, dragging your wetness along to your aching clit.

“You think I’d make it that easy?” He asks as he continues the journey back and forth. On the second pass he dips his finger inside of you for a fraction of a second before resuming its path. “What do you want, darlin’?”

You weren’t going to beg, in fact you bit your tongue to stop the traitorous words from forming, this man had already made you abandon most of your self-respect, he wasn’t having this.

“Logan…” At your breathy words the man leans forward, pressing his fabric covered cock into your ass as he folds his body over yours. One hand comes down next to your shoulder, the other explore your tits as he rocks himself into your throbbing core. It’s the perfect storm as he nuzzles into your exposed throat but somehow you manage your words. “Fuck me or don’t, I’m not begging, bub.”

He exhales through his nose in what you guess is equal parts amusement and annoyance, but you’re far beyond caring. He places a bite on the spot where your throat meets your shoulder as his body pulls back. Momentarily his hands leave your hips to deal with his own pants. You hear the clank of his belt hitting the car floor moments before you feel the head of his cock, running along your folds.

The head of his cock is thick, and it feels hot to the touch as he runs it along your slick. All of a sudden Logan pushes forward and sheathes himself inside of you with a single thrust.

You try your best to hold in your incoherent moans but to little avail as he pulls back before slamming full force back into you. If you were a human woman, your pelvis would’ve shattered from the force of his hips against your ass, instead you gather your strength and push back, allowing him deeper. The both of you moan in unison at the depth he reaches.

You grab onto the foam of the seat, ripping through the fabric with your bare hands desperate for an anchor as Logan unforgivingly pounds into you from behind, once again he folds his body over yours, wrapping a palm around your clawed fingers.

“.” He grunts something incoherent into your ear as he picks up the pace, slamming into you repeatedly, slowly picking up his pace. Your core is positively aching as you throb around him, pulling him deeper within you.  If you were expecting any further explanation, you’re sorely disappointed.

The wolverine pulls back, gripping at your hips keeping you still as he resumes his powerful strokes.  Logan’s hand dips to your clit, rubbing quick circles sending you barrelling back towards your orgasm. As you begin to clench around him, he pulls your body upwards, his head brushing against the top of the car as he holds you against him his fingers never leaving your clit.

“Come on my cock, Angel.” Unable to stop yourself you clench around him, hearing him talk like that does something primal to you.

You fucking loved Logan’s mouth, you bet he ate pussy like a champion if he played the clit this fucking well.

You stopped fighting it and threw yourself from the cliff, shattering in his thick muscle veined arms as he held you up against him, his cock still viciously plundering your depths.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispers against your neck whispers peppering it with bites.

Logan gives you a few moments to come down from your high before he resumes his punishing pace, you think perhaps you’ve reached your limit of pleasure, that the threshold can’t possibly be topped until he whispers into your ear in that gruff voice.

“What was it Wilson said? Filling all your holes?” The Wolverine asks, his eyes meet yours over your shoulder meaningfully, asking permission as he offers you his thumb. You merely moan your approval and wantonly draw his finger into your mouth, soaking the pad in saliva.  

Logan yanks your head into a vicious kiss. It’s a messy one, filled to the brim with need. The hand not currently locked on your neck holding your face to his, travels down your back, through the valley of your bodies. The pad of his pinky runs appreciatively over the globe of your ass, before his hand dips into the crease.

Logan’s thumb runs teasingly against the tight ring of muscle, it’s a foreign experience which makes you startle slightly.

“Anyone ever fucked you here?” He asks as he bites down your neck, delicately pushing you forward until your head rests on the backseat. You shake your head as your eyes close, his cock is buried balls deep within you as he plays with your asshole.

When his thumb finally breaches your tight hole just past the nail, he begins his thrusts once more. His cock fills your pussy from behind and suddenly you feel so fucking full, Its far too much for you.

“Fuck… Logan.” You gasp almost on the verge of tears as pounds you into the back seat. It seems the ass play has gotten to him more than expected, as his pace has increases.

“Where?” He asks breathless from the exertion as he pulls his thumbs from your ass and takes a handful of the meat on your hips.

“Inside…. Please … Logan.” You practically beg though you’ll never admit it, his rhythm becomes stunted as his hips slam into the back of your thighs.

“Give me something tight to come in, Darlin’.” Moaning at his words you’re eager to obey as you reach your hand between your own legs and rub mercilessly at your clit. The unforgiving pounding, the grunting and the fingers currently bruising your hips and the burning of your now vacant ass send you sailing over the edge.

You clamp down on him like a vice, groaning unable to hold back your whimpers anymore as he finally bites your neck and pumps his seed deep inside you as far as it can go. Logan grunts like a beast as he pulses deep inside of you.

Logan collapses beside you. Dents in the interior of the van you don’t even remember making have appeared from where a stray elbow or knee has hit the metal in the throes of passion.

The Wolverine tucks his cock back in his suit. Ever the gentleman, he uses your black panties to wipe away the cum dripping from your thighs, you haven’t got the heart to tell him that when you’re commando redressed in your suit that you can still feel him dripping from you, your pussy uncomfortably slick against the leather.

After dressing, the two of you sit in contemplative silence. Neither one of you has the emotional complexity to discuss what happened and neither one of you will accept fault for your argument that led to it, so, silence reigns.

The tension is sliced in two as Logan leans forward and pushes an errant lock of hair behind your ear in an act so goddamn endearing, you melt. You still wouldn’t apologise for lying, because you didn’t lie but you can meet him a quarter of the way.

“I’m sorry for calling you geriatric.” You whisper catching his eyes, a small spark of humour leaps into them, you’ve seen more emotions from your hero in the past half an hour than you knew he was capable of.

“I shouldn’t have-“ Logan’s heartfelt apology is cut off by the lead of this goddamn story.

“Well, well, well.  Would you look at this, My best friends, Ha! I get fucking kidnapped, an arm ripped off and you’re nowhere to be found? I thought don’t worry Wade, they won’t leave you, Y/N/N will come around that corner any second."

Wade has appeared through the passenger side window; he looks a little worse for wear and has a child’s arm growing from his stump, its kind of gross to look at.

"What if Colossus had had his way with me? What then Y/N? I expect this from Wolvie, but not from you! No, no heroic rescue for old Deadpool. I have to save myself because you fuckers are too busy playing hide the adamantium bone!  Thanks for nothing guys. Now the car has old man sex stank to it, as if this hunk of shit Honda could get any worse!”

[differenteagletragedy]

Part three of Simon Riley x Single Mother <3

Part one -- Part two

It rains the next day, and the day after, then Simon gets the orders — he’d be leaving on a mission for a week or two, maybe more.

While he’s away, he thinks of you more often than he’s comfortable with. He wonders if you had the baby yet, and if you did, if the delivery went smoothly. He thinks of how you’d told him that it was just you and Charlie, and how he hopes you’re managing everything on your own.

It’s too much and he knows it, but he thinks it all the same.

By the time he gets back home, it’s been a little over a month. A few days are spent holed up in his apartment, decompressing and trying to remember how to breathe, then he’s back to it.

To you.

More walks, by the park, around the perimeter then a lap through town and back again. Eyes scanning each time, ears perked in case the little boy comes calling.

No luck — at least, not for a while. But a week or so later, during one morning stroll, there you are.

Your big belly is gone, save for a tiny little swell, and in its place is a baby carrier, which seems to be securely strapped in place, but he sees you hold onto it anyway. Sticking out of the bottom of the carrier are two impossibly tiny socked feet.

If he thought you looked tired the first two times he saw you, it’s nothing compared to how you look now. You look exhausted, weary down to your bones, but you still smile as Charlie, energetic as ever, shows off on the monkey bars.

Simon slowly makes his way over, stopping a few feet away from you. The movement makes you notice him, and you give a small laugh.

“You sure like this place, huh?”

He shrugs, hands in his pockets, and says, “Trees are nice.”

There were a few cherry trees that were blossoming now, growing along the sidewalk by the street, and he did always think they were nice-looking. You didn’t need to hear, at least not yet, that he’d found something much more beautiful to see in the park now that he’d noticed you.

At the sound of Simon's voice, Charlie jumps down from the monkey bars and runs over, putting a hand on one of the baby's feet.

"This is my baby sister, Emma," he tells him. "She looks like me but you have to be careful with her because her head is soft and her neck doesn't work right."

He chuckles, then uses Charlie's introduction as an excuse to take a glance at the baby resting against your chest. He can't see much with the way the carrier is situated, just a tuft of hair sticking out of the top, then Charlie pulls his attention back to him.

"You never said your name," the boy points out.

"It's Simon."

"I'm Charlie."

"I know."

"This is Mum," Charlie says, tugging on the hem of your shirt. "She has a different name too though."

You laugh softly, and hold your hand out to Simon, telling him your name: it's your third time meeting each other, and finally, a proper introduction.

The morning goes by much the same as your last park playdate went. Charlie bounds from the jungle gym to the slides to the swings, demanding attention and applause. Simon keeps a bit of a distance and tries to ignore just how much closer he wants to be. But with how tired you are now, or perhaps now that you know Simon just the tiniest little bit better, you speak more freely.

It does absolutely nothing to stop his yearning.

Finally, Charlie starts showing signs of slowing down. He gets a little less talkative, doesn't have quite so many tricks to show Simon, and then he stands, going to you and grabbing one of your hands away from where it rests on the baby carrier.

"Can we go home now?"

You nod, smiling at the boy, and he lifts his arms expectantly.

Simon notices you frown, just a little, before telling your son, "Baby, you know I can't carry you, I've got your sister."

"But I'm tired."

"Can you walk for me?" you ask.

He sees Charlie look from you to the baby and back again, tears welling up in his wide bright eyes, and it's enough for him to speak up.

"I could carry him, if you like."

It would be a big step in your friendship, if you could even call it that at this point, him carrying your son home, but he's ready to take it. Moreso, he's ready to offer it -- he'd take so much more, anything you offered.

"... You don't mind?"

Soon enough, the four of you are on the sidewalk, with you leading the way. Charlie is already asleep on Simon's shoulder as he holds him in his arms.

"The baby woke him up early," you explain as you walk. "I thought he'd last till his afternoon nap, but then you showed up and he had to show out."

He smiles, and when he feels the warmth spreading through his chest, he knows he's in even more trouble than he thought. It was one thing, being interested in you, but it was another to be interested in the whole package.

But of course, he had been all along, hadn't he? You drew him in, something about you seeped inside him right away, digging in its claws and holding on tight, but he couldn't deny, at least not anymore, that there was something more, too. Charlie had been, every moment he'd seen him, sweet and precocious and disarming, and now the baby ...

"Everything go all right?" he hears himself asking, speaking softly as Charlie lets out a gentle snore by his ear. "The delivery and all."

"Oh, yeah," you answer, turning down a little residential street. "Quick and easy, or I guess as easy as birthing a human can be."

"You got someone helping you?"

You shake your head, smiling up at him.

"Nope, just us. We do all right though."

You guide him through a rickety little gate towards a house, cute but rundown, and unlock the door, stepping inside and letting him come in before closing the door behind him. You show him to Charlie's room, and he lays the boy down gently in his little twin bed.

"Want some tea?" you offer, and he agrees. Anything to just stay a little longer.

While you're filling the kettle, the baby starts crying. She'd fussed a bit here and there at the park, but this sounds more insistent, Simon thinks, and you sigh, the exhaustion clear on your face.

"What can I do?" Simon asks.

And before he knows it, he's in your kitchen, taking over the tea while you sit on the couch, feeding little Emma. He can hear you as he hunts through the cabinets for cups, can hear your quiet little shushes and her little coos and gurgles as she feeds, and it's easily the most domestic scene he's ever taken part of.

By the time he meets you in the living room, two cups in hand, the baby is resting in your arms. He can see her little face fully now. Charlie was right, she does look like him. And they both look like you.

You excuse yourself for just a moment to lay her down, then come back, baby monitor in hand. You set it on the coffee table, trading it for your cup of tea, and sit beside him on the couch.

For the first time, it's just the two of you.

"Can I ask you something?"

It's not the most reassuring way to begin the conversation, but he nods, having an idea of what you might have on your mind.

"What's all ... this?"

"All what?"

You give him a look -- he knows what, but he can't very well say it, so he hesitates, trying to find the best way out of this. But you, in another show of how perfect you could be for him, give him an out.

"Look," you begin, "my thing has never not been being unable to see red flags. My thing is actually kind of zeroing in on the red flags and running straight for them. And that's not you."

"... No?"

"No," you reply. "You're yellow at best."

He smirks. "I'm a yellow flag?"

You nod, smirking back, and god, he just wants you more.

"And how's that?"

"You've got ... something. You've got sad eyes. Like you've seen a lot of stuff and like you maybe don't know how to deal with it. Something to keep an eye on, but not something that's going to destroy someone else."

"You sure about that?" he asks.

"I wouldn't let you carry my kid home if I wasn't."

He nods, taking a sip of his tea. Just when he thinks he's in the clear, you say, "But that still doesn't answer my question."

Simon considers for a moment. He barely even understands the pull he feels towards you himself, how can he explain it? But you watch him with patient eyes, close enough to touch, and he knows that if he's ever going to have a shot at actually having this, for keeps, he's going to have to try.

"I ... has there ever been something that you've never had, but you still knew you wanted it?"

You give him a small smile, and there’s understanding in your eyes — of course you have.

“And what is it that you want?” you ask.

But it’s not really a question. You know, and he can see that. So he doesn’t answer, but keeps his eyes on you steady.

“Simon,” you begin, and he has to force himself not to focus on how sweet his name sounds on your lips so he can hear the rest of what you have to say. “I don’t … why?”

“Just hit me that day,” he explains, his voice low and quiet. “Don’t know why, but it hasn’t gone away.”

“And … Charlie? The baby?”

“Charlie’s a good kid. Can’t imagine the baby will be much different.”

You stay silent for a beat, then tell him that you need to go check on the kids. He’s alone again, and he’s on the cusp of something with you, he just knows it.

When you come back a few moments later, you sit a little closer, a look of resolve on your face, and he waits.

“I’m kind of a mess,” you tell him.

“That’s fine.”

“I have two kids, and their dad is … he’s not in the picture.”

“Doesn’t bother me.”

“… Simon, I have a newborn.”

“I know, I met her. Head’s all soft and neck doesn’t work right. I remember.”

You laugh, but it’s nervous laughter, your eyes darting around the living room like you’re trying to find more reasons for him to want to run, but with every passing moment with you, he’s more and more sure that he wants to stay.

Finally, you speak again, your hand coming to rest on his arm.

“Just … I don’t know, ok?”

“You don’t have to.”

You don’t have to know, he wants to say, because he does. He knows you fit, and that he could take care of you and your children. He could carry Charlie home when he gets tired from playing too hard, and he could make you tea while you feed Emma. He could paint the house, fix it up, replace the gate with something good and sturdy. He could fix that leak in your kitchen faucet and make your life easier and do the best thing he’d ever do, with you and your family.

But you’re not ready to hear that. And he’s a patient man. He can wait.

PART FOUR - PART FIVE - PART SIX - PART SEVEN - PART EIGHT

[buryustogether]

songbird

the ghoul x f!reader

summary: you used to be a singer in your vault - that skill comes in handy when you least expect it, and least want to use it. but who are you to say no when cooper tells you to sing for him?

wc: 5.7k

warnings: swearing, talk of murder, blood, alcohol, gun violence, sexual tension, smut, fingering, p in v sex, biting, possessive sex, possessive cooper

You had to admit - if you and your companion didn't find shelter soon, one of you was going to drop and the other wouldn't hesitate to feast on what was left.

The deserts of the Wasteland were harsh - you had known that the moment you stepped out of your vault those months ago and you had been faced with nothing but a searing sun, sand that got stuck places it shouldn't have, and creatures and fellow people alike who would risk it all simply for a quick grab at the pack on your back. But it seemed like this past week, God or Satan or whoever the fuck was controlling this shitshow of a world was in a bad mood. The heat was unbearable, even at night when the chilly winds should have weaseled their way beneath your vault suit and cooled your burning skin. Creatures mutated by the long-settled radiation were feeling the anger of the wasteland, as well, charging without warning or provocation. To top off a less than perfect week, your water supply had run out yesterday, and unless the skies opened up and released a storm of rad-infested hail upon your head, you weren't sure you would find any more before you keeled over and kicked it.

Struggling to plant your feet stable in the mounds of sand beneath you as you made your way between the shells of buildings that had once stood tall and proud, you glanced over your shoulder at your companion. Cooper was better adapted for this kind of environment than you were, what with his hardened skin and the wide brim of his hat shielding his face, but even he looked worse for wear. When he picked up his head, seeming to feel your eyes on him, you quickly averted your gaze and set your attention back on moving one foot in front of the other.

"Fuck're you lookin' at?" he said, his voice raspy as he called out through the dry air.

"Nothing," you snipped back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of facing him again. "Just wondering if I'm going to have to carry you the rest of the way, asshole."

The heat was making you both snappy - you hated it.

Your first meeting with Cooper hadn't gone smoothly. Hell, your second or third hadn't, either. You weren't exactly sure when you had fallen into a more comfortable presence around one another, but it sure as shit hadn't happened overnight. You'd been only half a day fresh from your vault when you'd seen him scavenging madly over a mess of bodies he'd dropped where they stood, searching for a number of vials kept in their pockets that he let drip into his open mouth like a fountain of youth. When you had called out a friendly hello to him, he'd nearly shot your brains out. Cooper had taken in your shocked expression - as you'd clearly never seen a ghoul before - as well as the stark blue of your vault suit and the pack over your shoulders, then promptly told you to scoot your ass back around to wherever the hell you had come from. Of course, you hadn't. You'd followed him from a distance, watching as he'd picked his way across the dusty sands until he'd wrangled you with the lasso at his hip, told you to fuck right off, and left you tied to a number of old pipes in the basement of a nearly collapsed building.

A day later, you'd tracked his footprints in the sand to a little settlement, where you hadn't ducked away quick enough to avoid his gaze. He'd threatened to blow your brains out if he caught you following him again. He'd only half-delivered on that promise when, not ten hours later, he'd planted a fist-sized hole in the skull of a raider attempting to cut your throat for the Pip-Boy affixed to your wrist.

From then on, he'd simply chosen to ignore you as you followed behind him like a lost dog, intent on staying with the biggest, baddest wolf in the yard. After a week, he'd tossed you a part of his rations. A week after that, he'd - not too gently - invited you to sit at the campfire with him when he saw you shivering beneath your thin, vault-issued blanket a good few yards away.

Somewhere along the way you'd started to talk. Started to share - at least, you had. Cooper had simply tucked his hat over his eyes and pretended not to listen while you rattled about this and that until he physically couldn't take it anymore and told you to go the fuck to sleep.

These months later, having accompanied him all this time, you didn't hesitate to call him a friend. Maybe something more, if you let the ache between your legs when you looked at him speak for you, but you knew it was a fantasy and nothing more, so you decided to stick with 'friend.'

Back in the present, you swallowed and winced when your throat barked with a bout of pain in response. You didn't think you'd make it another mile, let alone five, which was how far Cooper claimed the nearest town was. Despite the months you'd spent adapting out here to the wastelands, you were still attempting to cope with the hardships that came with it. Vault life wasn't anything like this; there was always water to drink, beds to sleep in. Cool air to bask in when it got just the slightest bit too hot. Of course, you didn't voice these complains to your companion. If you did, you had no doubt he'd tell you to shut the fuck up and deal with it.

Just as you were about to ask if you could take a short break and get away from the harsh sun beating on your back like repeated blows from a red-hot hammer, a gloved hand wrapped around your arm and held you in place. You jerked to a stop, nearly falling back on your ass as Cooper held you where you stood. You prepared a strongly-worded question as to just what he was doing before you followed his gaze downward, to where a small handful of pairs of footprints traveled perpendicular to yours. Together, you tilted your heads to the left where the foreign prints were headed, and it was there you found a small slope leading downward into what may have once been a shopping mall. From where you stood, you were able to see that the glass dome around the center of the mall had been shattered, letting out the gentle sound of music and human hollers.

You exchanged a look with Cooper, each of you sunken from the iron-fisted heat weighing you down, then slid down the sandy slope after him when he took off toward the shopping mall.

If there was one thing you had learned about Cooper since planting yourself at his side and refusing to leave, it was that he valued silence above almost everything else. You, on the other hand, had come from a talkative vault, where gossip reached every end of every chamber only an hour - at max - after anything noteworthy had happened. Your companion had once called you the biggest yap he'd ever heard, and you would have taken it for a compliment had he not told you to shove it a moment after. The two of you had been silent nearly the entire day now, save for a few venomous barks at each other, and you cleared your scratchy throat in an attempt to lighten your shitty moods.

"I used to read about shopping malls in the magazines," you said, leaning your weight backwards as the sandy slope shifted downward. "They had all kinds of stores inside."

"Thanks for the reminder," Cooper bit back, quickening his stride. "Would have fuckin' forgot without you here."

You let your eyes roll into the back of your head as you struggled to catch up to him, your boots digging into the uneven earth beneath you. "When I was a kid, a few of my friends and I would draw pictures of clothes - because, you know, we only had our suits - and then spread them across one of our rooms and pretend to shop. It was stupid, but it we made entertainment where we could."

"Now, was this before you started pretending to be Billie Holliday?"

You gave him a sideways glance. "Who's that?"

Cooper shook his head and took off ahead of you. "Jesus fuckin' Christ."

During one of your, as your companion called them, yap sessions, you had confided in him that your vault valued the arts above anything else. Since you were a child, they had encouraged you to find something you enjoyed, as long as you were able to call yourself an artist. Painting hadn't worked out too well. Writing had been a bust. But then you'd discovered singing - a way in which you were able to express yourself without actually saying how you felt. You could drape the tunes in metaphors and similes, bump the second verse from the first, and when you were done, everyone would get to their feet to applaud as if your songs were the best things they'd ever heard. Cooper hadn't expressed much interest in this, instead taking to calling you a songbird with her wings clipped when he deemed you were at your lowest and needed to be kicked while you were down.

Of course, you hadn't shown him - you would have to be long dead for that - but over the course of the few months you'd known him, you had confided in your notebook carried in your pack all the little things you'd come up with that complimented his persona. How the gold at his heels called for you with each step he took. The way his hands, encased behind leather that creaked, held a smoke so delicately you could have imagined it was you. The rasping curl of his words when he smiled while he spoke and how each word cast a spell that made you want to follow him until the sun exploded and the earth was gone.

Cooper was an enigma you couldn't help but wonder after, and every scrap of himself he tossed to you led you on like a dog on a leash.

The music and echoing sound of laughter from deep inside the shopping mall became louder as the pair of you approached, eyes scanning for snipers on the roof or guards posted at the busted-out windows. There wasn't a person in sight, only mannequins stripped of their clothing hanging out the openings and long-shredded posters clinging to broken glass. Cooper led the way inside, picking a path across the wreckage and rubble stacked haphazardly against the entrance. You felt your pulse tick up when he produced his gun from the worn holster at his side, tapping his trigger finger against the side of the firearm in time with the music winding its way down the wide corridors.

As you followed your companion through the shopping mall, you couldn't help but ogle at the numerous attractions you passed. Shops had been boarded up and torn open again, giving you a glimpse of tattered clothes still on hangers, books tipped over on shelves, pre-war machines behind display cases that were covered in two hundred years' worth of dirt and grime. Gang signs and dirty catchphrases had been spraypainted along the walls and windows in a rainbow of colors. In the center of the long aisle you were wandering, a carousel meant for children sat neglected, still fitted with cartoonish horses who had seen better days than these.

"Did you used to come to these often?" you asked as you stepped across a mannequin missing its head.

"Shut the fuck up for a minute." Cooper raised a hand to pair with his little spat, silencing you from asking any further questions. His tongue darted out between his cracked lips as he placed his steps carefully around shattered glass and wind-up toys that would declare your position to the entire mall. He led you around a few wide corners before coming to a stop behind an old escalator, motioning for you to take cover. You crouched to peer around the other side, pulling your bag strap tighter over your shoulder. You were met with a sight that made your lips part in wonder.

Made up in the center of the mall's large atrium, directly beneath where the glass dome had been broken out, a small encampment of people had established what looked like a tiny town. Tents rested just inside nearby shop windows and winking Christmas lights had been strung above their heads. Lanterns cast shadows along the faces of the camp's locals as they milled back and forth, sharing dinners, reading from books - and dancing. Booming from a solar-powered stereo was a symphony of fiddles and guitars, harmonies of trumpets and clapping in time with the beat. A woman's tinny voice came through the speakers and she reminisced about an old lover who had gotten away. As you watched the people dance and stamp their feet along with the music, you found yourself drumming your fingers along, as well.

You were so engrossed in the music that you nearly missed what Cooper had his watchful eye on; the fridge-sized container with several spigots on its sides marked with a large piece of paper that read 'Clean Water.'

You and Cooper ducked back behind the escalator.

"Bunch of fuckin' idiots," said Cooper as he pulled a red-capped round from his bandolier and loaded it into his gun's chamber. "That shit'll attract every goddamn raider and feral within the mile."

"They're just having fun," you said, unsure of why you felt so defensive of these people you didn't even know. Maybe it was because they reminded you of your fellow vault dwellers back home. There had been a dance or performance like this nearly every night.

Cooper scoffed. "Fun like this gets you killed, little lady."

Your eyes widened as you watched him pull back the hammer of his firearm. "You're not going to just go up there and start shooting, are you?" You knew for a fact that he would. You'd seen him do it before - draw his pistol and start spinning the trigger because a raider or flock of ferals had what he wanted. But this - this was something different. Before he could do anything more, you reached out and grabbed his upper arm in a grasp so tight your knuckles paled. He flashed you a dark, dangerous look from beneath the brim of his hat, but you refused to let go. "Cooper, these people are innocent. They haven't done anything to us."

"Listen here, dollface, and listen well," he said, quickly spinning you around so that your back was pressed against the escalator. He caged you in, his gun hand still in your grasp and his other arm propped against the wall beside your head. You tried your damndest to not flush when you felt his breath on you, when his hips came just inches from pressing up against yours. "If we're goin' to be carryin' on this little arrangement, you need to learn to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut when I tell you to shut it. Now, I know you vaulties think everyone and their mama is goin' to repay that silly kindness of yours, but do not be mistaken. Keep yappin' and I will drink my fill of that there water while I make you watch, and then I'll tip the rest of it onto the floor. You hear me?"

You were at a loss for words, your tongue dry and your knees beginning to feel wobbly from the lack of water and proper rest. Just when you were about to let your eyes fall back down and accept that he was going to clear out the settlement for their water, footsteps echoed past where the two of you stood. Cooper snapped around and raised his pistol, his other arm still caging you in, and aimed down the barrel at a few young men approaching the rest of the locals beneath the glass dome. Instead of yelling, instead of dropping their belongings and begging for their lives while they pissed their pants in the presence of a ghoul, the men waved and smiled friendly grins.

"No need to hide," one said, gesturing the pair of you toward the others. "Y'all are welcome to come and make yourselves cozy. The more the merrier!"

They continued on, greeted by the other locals with shouts of welcome backs and fond hugs, paying no mind to the wide eyes and parted lips of you and your companion. Breaking away from Cooper's little cage he had created with himself and the wall - as much as it pained you to - you peeked back around the escalator. The young men pointed your way, and a number of people waved in kind and beckoned you forward. You found yourself taking a few steps toward the inviting sight of fresh water and the smell of food being cooked over one of the fires when Cooper snagged you by the back of your suit's collar and pulled you back into cover.

"Where on this good green earth you think you're goin'?" he said in a hushed tone, bringing your face close to his with a commanding grip on your jaw. Another flutter of excitement, of blood rush, bubbled to life in the pit of your stomach and began to travel south, but you suppressed the urge to lean into his touch. You didn't pull away, either.

"They invited us," you said, your eyes wandering back over to the light flickering from the lanterns and fires. "It's rude to turn down an invitation."

Cooper harrumphed and released you a little harsher than necessary. "What you've got is a one-way ticket to bein' on tomorrow's menu, sweetheart," he said, tilting his head to follow your gaze and keep eye contact when you looked away. "If you've about had your fill of the real world up here topside, then be my guest. Go and let'em fatten you up. I'll pour one out for 'ya tonight."

Deciding not to wonder if he would actually pour one out for you, if you really meant that much, you scoffed and shook your head. "You know it's okay to let your guard down every once in a while. Smile, maybe? Wave back? No wonder you're so damn bitter, old man."

Cooper stared down at you, and you wondered briefly if he was considering slamming your head into the side of the escalator. Would he drag you away with him, you thought? Or would he leave you for the strangers just around the corner. After what seemed an eternity, he hummed a short little note and nodded his head toward the camp. "You want to play friends, little lady? Go ahead. See how far that gets you before I've got to turn around and put one between the eyes of a man who's not lookin' just for the sake of lookin'."

With the faintest hint of a smile, you blinked up at him. "You'd turn around for me?" you asked in a murmur.

He matched your heated gaze, dark eyes intense and flaring a torch in your belly. "I suppose you'll just have to find out one of these days."

Swallowing thick, you took a breath, then turned and led him toward the little encampment of people. Heads turned as the pair of you approached, and you found that most of them smiled. You waved to those who offered little shakes of their hands, trailed by a ghoul stalking in his own shadow and resting the crook of his palm on his pistol. You were met by a kind-faced woman near the large tank of water, and she was forced to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of the thumping music.

"You folks just get in?" she said, already fixing two bowls of stew from a large pot simmering over a fire.

You broke yourself from the staring match you were having with the pot, the same one Cooper was still stuck in. Although, he may have been watching the chickens that roamed inside a little pen nearby as he licked his lips. "Yes, ma'am," you said over the trill of the woman's singing. You so desperately wished you knew the words so you could sing along. "I hope we're not imposing."

"Not at all!" A bowl of stew was pushed into your hands, and you forced yourself to be polite and not spoon it down your throat immediately. At your side, your companion gave the rim of the bowl a lick with the tip of his tongue before tipping it to slurp up. "We pride ourselves in being an open community. We might be small, but that just means there's more to share." The tin cups of water she handed over didn't last but five seconds before she was refilling them. "Make yourselves comfortable and stay however long you like. All we ask is that you keep your weapons holstered and don't disturb the music."

You and Cooper took seats at a dining table that had been dragged over from the cafeteria, neither of you speaking much as you both wolfed down what was in the bowls in front of you. Both of your spoons went untouched, each electing instead to drink up the strangely-colored meat floating around inside. Cooper finished much faster than you, and shucked off his gloves so that he could dip his scarred finger in to collect what juices were left. When he was finished, the bowl looked as though it hadn't even been used.

Watching him with a small smile, you let up from your own bowl and said, "I'm waiting."

"For what, exactly, little lady?"

"Your apology." You lapped up the rest of your stew before politely setting your bowl inside of his. "You wanted to -" You hesitated and glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one was too close to hear you. "You know." Then you settled a rather self-satisfied smirk over your features. "And look where we are now. So I'd like my apology now."

Cooper sucked on his finger, ensuring he was getting every last morsel of the stew that he could, and your attention was pulled down to where his lips wrapped around his digit. A part of you began to imagine it was yours. He noticed you staring and grinned wide. "And you know what I'm waitin' for, darlin'?"

"What?"

"For you to walk yourself over there and get me seconds."

You rolled your eyes, but nevertheless grabbed your stacked bowls and began to make your way over to where the woman was tending to the pot. "You'd better be thinking about your apology," you called over your shoulder. When you turned back around you nearly collided into someone retreating back to their spot with their own dinner. You jerked to the side, attempting to get out of their way first, and in doing so rammed yourself into the stereo set on a table in the center of the little camp. You watched in horror, bowls clasped to your chest, as the stereo tumbled over the edge of its pedestal and fell to the floor, where it shattered into what must have been hundreds of pieces. The camp became shrouded in a tense, shocked silence as every eye in the mall turned to face you and look upon your sin.

"I..." Your voice carried through the atrium and down the corridors of the shopping mall, sounding like an isolated cry for help. "I'm so sorry. I - I didn't mean to, I really didn't. Here, I might be able to fix it." You bent down to try and gather the pieces with your free hand, and the moment you did, a number of the camp locals drew weapons to aim in your direction.

"Now," came that familiar drawl behind you as you heard a hammer lock into place. "Are we really goin' to be killin' each other over some silly radio?" asked Cooper, and you felt some of your nerves ease slightly when you felt his chest press against your back.

A man to your right hissed. "You killed him!"

You shook your head viciously. "No, no! I - I didn't kill anyone. I'm sorry, I really am."

"You killed Sterry!" a woman accused.

"Sterry?" You looked down at the broken stereo and began to scoop up the bigger pieces you could find. "I - I can fix Sterry, I swear -"

"There's no fixing Sterry," moaned the woman who had served you stew as she sunk into the closest bench, looking as though she were about to faint. "He's dead. And you've killed us all."

You glanced back at Cooper, who wielded both his pistols now, each pointed in a different direction toward locals who had drawn their weapons. He offered a shrouded look that screamed, 'Now, didn't I tell you so, sweetheart?' You took a shuddering breath and faced the woman who had served you. "What do you mean?" you asked.

The woman placed her head in her hand as if she'd already accepted her fate. It was a daunting sight, the face of a woman so cheery and joyful such a short time ago, now deflated as though someone had let out all her air. "This place," she said, gesturing vaguely to the mall around you. "It's infested." The word was so heavy you felt as though you nearly choked on it. "Infested with creatures that will tear us limb from limb now that you've ruined everything. The music! The music was what kept them away, and now that it's gone..."

As if on cue, from the darkness of one of the long-winding corridors straight ahead, there came the bone-rattling sound of a feral hissing and snapping its weathered jaw. A few of the locals scrambled back as the creature emerged from the inky blackness, arms twisted and eyes sunken so far back into its skull they looked like they were forever pointed toward the sky. It took a rushed few steps forward before Cooper's arm rotated and he put a hole between its eyes. The feral dropped to the floor, leaking dark blood that stained the tile floor.

"Stop being so dramatic, Uma," said an older gentleman who stooped at your feet to begin gathering the pieces of Sterry. You immediately dropped to your knees to help. "We've fixed Sterry before, and we'll fix him again. It won't take long. But while we do, we'll need something to drive those creatures off..."

Your stomach dropped when, as you stood to hand over the pieces of the stereo, you felt Cooper's hands - still fitted with his pistols - rest heavily on your shoulders. "Well, then, y'all folks are in luck," he drawled, and you could practically hear the smirk playing his lips as he spoke. "I've got my very own songbird right here. I'd be happy to lend her to 'ya if, say... you filled our flasks from that there tank when the time comes for us to leave."

"Cooper," you hissed through your teeth as you spun around to face him. Singing for your vault was one thing, but singing for a bunch of strangers in the middle of an infested mall while ferals stumbled from the darkness all around you? He may as well have tossed you back out into the wastes. "You are not going to fucking trade me -"

"Done," said the old man as he sat down and began to sort Sterry's pieces. "Have your girl start singing - anything her heart desires. Just long enough for me to fix old Sterry here."

Giving the man a mock salute that didn't quite raise to his brow, Cooper shoved you onto a bench so that you stood over the rest of the camp. From this angle, they were all able to see your petrified expression and your hands shaking at your sides. "You heard the man," your companion said and smacked the back of your knee. "Get to it, songbird."

"Cooper, I can't -"

Before you were able to finish, Cooper turned, his ears pricking at something yours did not pick up, and dropped another feral that had been silently stalking the camp from the other side. A few of the locals yelped in terror, fleeing into shopfronts and tents.

"Sing for me, sweetheart," Cooper said. He sent you a wink, tipped his hat, then unleashed another round of lead into the darkness which only his eyes could penetrate.

You felt as if you were going to vomit. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck as you fisted your hands and swayed slightly where you stood on the bench. Turning your head, you met the eyes of a few camp locals watching you from their hideouts, their expressions filled with fear, anger, anticipation. They were waiting. Expecting. Needing. Attempting to push down the swelling that was beginning to form in your throat, you looked down at Cooper as he emptied his pistols of empty shells before reloading in order to fend off the ferals attacking the camp - the very camp he'd wanted to take out not half an hour ago.

He'd told you to sing for him. So you'd sing. For him, and only him.

Clearing your mouth and opening your lips, you took a breath and forced yourself to sing. "Death will come from where the earth meets the sky." Your voice wobbled slightly, rusty from having not singing since you left your vault. That, along with the fear and dehydration sitting on your tongue. "The sand is scorched beneath his step, the future decided by his eye." As you sang, the miniature explosions banging from the barrels of Cooper's pistols created a short, quick beat you unconsciously began to tap your foot along to. "He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

Ferals shrieked in response to the gunfire, to the song torn right from your notebook in your pack, and one by one, like stage performers who had practiced this dance a hundred times, they dropped at the feet of the camp.

"Death's got a girl who croons his songs, which is why he never stays for long. He's got to run back to his lady, just as harsh as he, he's coming for you, but he's running back to me." As you sang you realized your voice was getting louder, louder, swelling until it filled the mall's atrium and every corridor far beyond. You tapped your heel along with the rhythm you'd created, closing your eyes and imagining an audience of one; a ghoul with his arms slung out across the chairs beside him and a knowing smirk playing his thin lips. It pulled you forward, pulled forth a song you hadn't realized was already in you. "He might sound mean, but I swear, he's kind. He's just got to peer into these eyes of mine. I'll ride with him, and he'll follow me, leaving behind a trail of blood far as the eye can see. Oh, my baby's got teeth to bite and a gun to blow, see his smoke and soon you'll know. Death ain't my man, he's my right hand. He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

You had just been nearing a second verse when, from where it rested before the old man on the table, the stereo jumped back to life and filled the atrium with thrumming, pulsing folk music. It drowned out your voice, silenced you like a gunshot, and the ferals teetering on the edge of the darkness leading to the rest of the mall stumbled back into their hiding places. The camp locals slowly emerged from their hiding places, chattering excitedly about Sterry and his newfound love of life. Feeling a little stupid still standing on the bench, you climbed down and shuffled away toward where you had been originally sitting.

Taking a seat, you rested your forehead on your arms and exhaled a shaky breath. What had you been thinking? Singing a song for the man you'd become hopelessly fascinated with while he was just a few feet away, battling ferals who were intent on tearing out your throat and taking your voice with it? You were such a fucking idiot. You wouldn't be surprised if he told you to never open your mouth again.

Just as promised, your flasks were filled to the brims with fresh water before you went on your way, leaving the mall atrium and the singing, dancing camp locals behind as you picked your way back outside. Neither you nor Cooper said much as you continued your trek to nowhere, leaving a pair of footprints like echoes in your wake. Your cheeks remained flushed long after the mall had disappeared into the horizon, and long after you picked out an abandoned building to set up camp for the night. For once, it wasn't from the heat.

You sat across the lantern and what light it cast from Cooper, who stared into the little beacon as if he were watching the most fascinating flick within its glass. You held your notebook in your lap, thumb marking your place as your tried to write, but nothing would come to mind save for the things you'd sung about today. Mortification stirred like a serpent in your belly, and you briefly considered excusing yourself to get up and throw up outside.

"Let me see that book you've got there."

Your head lifted at Cooper's request - more of a demand - and unconsciously tightened your grip around your notebook. Your notebook - full of songs, melodies, lyrics. The most recent half of which you had written about the ghoul staring at you. "This?" you said, your trembling voice giving way to your nerves. You forced out a chuckle and smacked it shut. "It's nothing worth looking at."

"Why not?" he said, voice rasping lower than the baritone he usually held it at. You swore his gaze was hotter than the sun during the day and the fires at night. "You got more songs 'bout little old me in there?"

Fuck, he knew. Fuck all, he knew. You felt your flush deepen as you pointedly tucked your notebook into the bottom of your pack and flipped the top shut. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," you said, avoiding his eyes. Instead you focused on the fraying tip of your boot. "I wrote that a long time ago. Back in my vault."

"Uh huh." Cooper stared you down for so long you thought that perhaps time had frozen. Then he took a barely-there breath. "Come over here, songbird. Let me get a good look at you."

For a long, long moment, you remained still as you ever had been. What was he saying? Normally the only time he let you close to him was when he invaded your personal space to deliver a shove or to smack your knee or thigh to tell you to get a move on. Your breath hitched when you finally lifted your head and found his gaze boring into yours, heavier than a ton and white hot like a branding iron.

"I ain't goin' to tell you again, pretty girl."

As if he had you on a fucking leash - because you swore he did - you found yourself pitching forward, crawling on your hands and knees toward him. He spread his legs slightly, enough to give you room to fit between them, and hesitantly, so very carefully, you rested yourself against his front. His rough, scarred hands, free of his gloves, came up to rest on the swell of your hips as if they were made to be there, fitting like puzzle pieces against your skin beneath your vault suit. You stared up at him, backlit by the lantern light, and let his thumb drag down your bottom lip until it slipped from his touch.

"Didn't think my songbird had such desire in her," Cooper chuckled, his warm breath fanning across your face.

You relished in the goosebumps that crawled over the planes of your skin. "I... I don't..."

"Oh, you'd be dead wrong if you said that little ditty you sang today wasn't all about desire." He settled back deeper where he sat, giving you more room to settle against him between the columns of his thighs. Your lower belly rested against his crotch, where you felt the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. Your heart skipped a beat or three. "If you wanted to ride with death, sweetheart, all you needed to do was ask."

Cooper sealed his lips to yours without word or warning, pulling a surprised little noise from the back of your throat that he swallowed up with fervor. As the initial shock faded, you found your eyes slipping shut and your mouth moving against his, lips opening without fight when his tongue demanded to explore your own. Bracing yourself with one hand against his thigh, you reached up with your other and cradled the back of his head, knocking off his hat in the process.

Swift to get a move on, to feel you against him and swallow up more of your sounds, Cooper easily flipped you around so that you were now lying flat on your back and he was hovering over your prone form. Both tingling excitement and nauseating nerves pulled groans from your lips as he moved to pressing harsh kisses and nips to the column of your neck, licking up red spots that would surely bruise come morning time. He shucked off his duster and abandoned it somewhere behind him, at the same time, by some skill you had no idea anyone possessed, also grasping at the zipper of your vault suit to pull it down as far as it would go.

It didn't take long for you to shimmy out of the suit, leaving you in just your underwear, the seams of which he traced with his calloused finger. It sent a chill running up your spine despite the heat prodding at your skin.

"My songbird sounds real pretty when she's singin'," Cooper muttered as he sucked a bruise into the swell of one breast over the cup of your bra. "I bet she sounds even better screamin' for me."

His hand plunged beneath the waistband of your panties and began to explore your folds, pulling a long, whining moan from your lips. He ate you and your whimpers up, devouring your lips like he wanted to eat you whole - maybe he did - while his middle finger ran up and down your cunt a few times before deftly finding your clit and applying a bit of pressure to the sensitive bud. You cried out. It had been far too long since you'd seen any real action. It didn't take long before your folds were soaked, and he was able to gingerly nudge his finger past the entrance of your pussy. It felt foreign to have another person thrusting their finger in and out of you, building you up to a kind of high you hadn't known since far before you left your vault. In less than a few minutes - something he would surely tease you about later - you felt that familiar coil snap in your stomach and you soaked his hand with a loud, throat-rattling wail that escaped your lips and flew right past his.

Cooper pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk and pulled his hand from your panties, lifting his spread hand to show you to slick you'd coated his digits with. You were only able to huff for breath and watch with hooded eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and used his skillful tongue to lick off your cum. You briefly wondered what else that tongue of his could do, what it would feel like to have him lap up your pussy like it was the only thing to guarantee him his daily hit of medicine.

"Sweet as honey, baby," he cooed, bracing himself with one hand while the other worked on the buckle of his belt. "Well. Maybe Tennessee honey. You ever had a taste of that?" He knew you hadn't. But that didn't stop his smirk from growing in size when you numbly shook your head. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, baby. We'll get you a lick one day. 'Til then..."

Your limbs dancing with pins and needles, you lifted your hips to help him tug off your panties. "I'll just have to settle for what I've got," you exhaled with a hazy smile.

Cooper grinned wide, a smile that bordered on the edge of dark, as he tugged down his trousers just enough for his cock to spring free. He was thick - larger than you'd expected - and his member was rough and scarred like the rest of him. It made you want to feel him all the more. "I'll promise you somethin', darlin," he said as he positioned himself at your entrance and you locked your legs around his waist, heels digging into the edge of his gun belt. "I'm better than anything else you'll taste these days." With that he slid into you, filling you at once to the brim like he just couldn't wait to feel you from the inside. A loud, sharp yelp escaped your lips as your back arched instinctively, curling yourself up into him. He only waited a few moments for you to adjust before he started moving, pulling himself out to the tip before thrusting back inside your welcoming cunt. You were able to feel each and every ridge of him, every scar, and you swore you were getting drunk from just the feeling.

"Fuckin' shit, girl," he groaned, moving to press the flat of his hand to the base of your neck so that he could keep you in place while he fucked you. "Better than I could've fuckin' dreamed."

Cooper's thrusts began to increase in speed, your moans and whimpers accompanied by his low, almost growling snarls he panted against the shell of your ear. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were being fucked by the ghoul you'd been following all these months, the ghoul you'd been watching and studying and falling hopelessly for. And it felt good. It felt so fucking good, a part of you wasn't entirely convinced this entire scenario wasn't a dream concocted by the recesses of your mind.

"God, Coop," you heard yourself moan as your nails dug crescent moons into the fabric of his shirt. "Feels so fucking good..."

"Atta girl," he muttered, moving his head down so that he could suck at the junction where your neck met your shoulder. "Such a sweet little songbird." His grip on your hips tightened as his movements increased even further. "Might just have to fuck you good every night so I can hear you sing for me."

You panted deep as you felt your second orgasm of the night approaching at an alarming rate. Your hips bucked up to meet his with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin filling the abandoned building in which you had taken shelter. "Don't have to - ah! - even ask. I'll sing for you any time, Coop."

Cooper's breaths came shorter, sharper, and it wasn't long before he came with a harsh bite against your shoulder, one that spilled blood into his awaiting mouth and pulled your own orgasm from deep within your depths. You shuddered and cried for him, tugging him close and holding him there for several minutes after your highs had faded and your breaths evened.

Finally, he pulled himself off of you. A short whine escaped you when he slipped from your heat, and he chuckled low before tossing you your panties to slip back on. When you were both covered again, you sat up and crossed your legs as you basked in the afterglow of what had just taken place. Cooper dug around in his saddlebag for a moment before producing his inhaler and drinking up a shot of his medicine, shaking his head against the sudden buzz that came with it as he sat back on his elbows and stared at the lantern light.

"I..." You struggled to find the words so desperately clawing at your chest. "I hope you don't..."

Cooper reached up and pulled your wrist out from under you, causing you to fall back on the ground beside him with an 'umph.' He let his arm cushion your fall before sweeping a few strands of hair from your face and giving you that crooked smirk which made your legs fall numb all over again. "Oh, don't you worry yourself, songbird," he said. "I ain't lettin' you fly away from me any time soon."

[nereidprinc3ss]

you’re my best friend

in which spencer reid has to teach your young son how to make friends nicely after a day at the park gone awry

fluff!! warnings/tags: fem!reader, husband!spencer yum, boy dad spencer enters the nereidprinc3ss cinematic universe!!!! yayyy!! but you still have a baby daughter as well, Spencer would 100% give his children old people names I'm sorry, gentle parenting Spencer my beloved a/n: I really miss spring its my favorite season so I found this draft that feels very springy and it makes me very happy also.. the name... like queen... also this is old so its probably not winning a pulitzer

The sun beats down just shy of hot on the sheath of fresh grass where you and Spencer are comforting your crying son—the ground beneath your blanket is a lush, verdant carpet, still cool with springtime rain but not wet. 

All of this pleasantry is lost on your son Oliver. He’s too focused on the scraped knee he sustained when he got pushed over on the wood chips. Marianne, your baby girl, is gurgling happily in her little bassinet next to you. Whoever said raising girls was harder had obviously never met the Reid siblings. Oliver is a drama queen—something you suspect he inherited from his father. 

“See? All better,” your husband is saying, wedding band glinting as gold as the curls that fall to his eyes as he smooths a bandaid over Oli’s wound. Seeing him like this never gets old.

Oli’s crying chokes to a confused halt. 

“It still hurts,” he complains. 

“I’m sorry, buddy. But you shouldn’t’ve pushed.”

“I wanted to be her f-friend,” Oli says, his sweet little bow lips (all Spencer) beginning to pout again. 

Your husband wipes Oliver’s already teary cheeks gently. “I know, but she didn’t know that. Not everybody likes to be pushed, even when you’re playing, because it’s kinda mean, isn’t it?”

“I was not being mean.”

“Do you push all your friends?”

“Sometimes,” Oliver says stormily. Spencer gives him a knowing look. 

“Are you sure you didn’t push her just because she’s a girl?”

Little shoulders raise and drop heavily. Guilty. 

“I know it’s sometimes hard to make friends with girls, but they generally don’t like being pushed. Not anymore than boys do. Maybe even less.”

“Then how do I make friends with them?”

Spencer considers this. 

“Well… how do you usually make friends?”

“I ask if they wanna play.”

“Sounds like you already know how to make friends with girls, then. That’s all you have to do.”

“How did you be friends with mommy?” Oli asks, bunching the blanket in his little hand. You smile to yourself.  

Spencer’s eyes flash up to you for only a second, his lips parted in what only you would recognize to be amusement. 

“I was super nice to her. Me and mommy are really good friends, right?”

Oliver nods dutifully. 

“Do you know why?”

A shake of his little curly head, this time.

“Because when you’re nice to someone, it usually makes them want to be your friend. Not always. But you have a much better chance that way. If I pushed mommy the first time we met, I don’t think we’d be here today.”

Your lips flatten to zip in a laugh. To Oliver, this is a very serious matter. To you, too. It’s important that he grows up to treat people well. 

“Why not?”

Spencer dodges the question smoothly. 

“Why don’t you try going to apologize to her? She might not want to talk to you, and that’s okay. But if you say you’re sorry, maybe you guys can play nicely together.”

This determines the already willful Oliver, who pushes up clumsily before running down the knoll on his short legs and approaching the swing set where his earlier assailant now plays alone. He stops far enough away that he can make a break for it if she gets a fixing to push him again. Smart boy. 

You and Spencer observe the interaction carefully, and while you can’t hear what’s being said, things seem to go well. Soon they’re making their way to the little kid’s playground in tandem. 

“Super nice, huh?”

“I really wanted to be your friend,” Spencer counters, scooting closer to Marianne’s bassinet. “Hi, angel,” he coos, demeanor instantly softening as he strokes her soft cheek. You can’t help smiling. The look in his eyes is truly something to behold. “God, I’m never gonna get over how much she looks like you.”

You preen and try to hide it. “You can’t possibly know that yet. Her skeletal structure is far from fully developed.” 

“Uh oh,” Spencer says to Marianne, offering her a quarter of a strawberry from a Tupperware. “Mommy is starting to sound like me. Is that scary, or what?”

Marianne cackles and burbles and takes the fruit with her little clutching fingers, only missing her mouth the first time she tries to eat it. 

“You’re so good at this,” you murmur thoughtlessly. The moment Oliver was born he’d been a natural. Earlier, even. You saw it in his eyes the second you tearfully told him you were pregnant. He’s a man of many gifts—and that extends to the way he parents. 

His gaze turns to you, still just as soft, but more knowing, on you. It’s comforting, to be known and seen and loved like that. 

“Couldn’t do it without you.”

“Corny,” you tease.

He shuffles on his knees to be closer to you. “Biologically factual.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he pulls you into him with an arm and presses a firm kiss to your head. 

“Have I told you how much I appreciate you recently?” He murmurs into the quiet dark against your temple, shielded from the spring sun. 

You’re melting in his hold, the way you always do. “Mhm.”

“Good. There’s nobody I’d rather be super nice to.”

You breathe him in—feel the rush of happy chemicals flood your brain.

“What if I pushed you?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” he asserts, pulling back and framing your face between his hands. 

“But if I did.”

He regards you with narrowed eyes. 

“Why? Am I in trouble?”

“Maybe.” But you say it too coyly. The corner of his mouth twitches. 

“I’d forgive you,” Spencer murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “But if you want to be my friend, you can just ask, lovely.”

One more quick peck, and he’s situating himself to lay his head in your lap once more. You slide his sunglasses on for him once he’s settled, and he catches your hand, kissing your knuckles. Your lips twist. 

“You make it so hard to want to push you. I need you to be mean.”

He laughs. 

“Too bad. I like being nice to you.”

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

I just imagine the worst case senerio mc is very much in love with sebastian but is to much of a coward and ominis is just like date me and we will see if he does anything I imagine ominis just wanting to start some chaos for fun up to you if mc stays with ominis or goes to sebastian

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

BAHAHA I love chaotic Ominis energy, thank you so much for this fun idea anon!!!

Words: ~2,900

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Fluff, Fluff Again, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance

Beta: @newdreamlove95💚

You weren’t sure how the conversation had gotten to this point. One moment, you were lamenting to Ominis about your absolutely humiliating, all-consuming love for Sebastian Sallow—your best friend, the object of your affection, the man who would never actually see you as anything more than a friend. The next?

"Date me," Ominis said, far too casually for something that nearly made you choke on your tea.

You blinked. "I'm sorry—what?"

"Pretend to date me. Just for a little while," he repeated, smirking. "Let's see if it gets a reaction out of him."

You gawked at him. "Ominis. That’s—that’s ridiculous. That’s insane."

"It’s brilliant," he corrected smoothly. "You’re too much of a coward to confess, and Sebastian is too much of an idiot to realize he loves you. So, why not give him a little… motivation?"

You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "This is absurd," you muttered, but a traitorous part of you—the one that had suffered through years of unspoken feelings, of watching Sebastian flirt his way through half the bloody school without sparing you a second glance—was tempted.

Ominis, sensing your hesitance, leaned in. "Come now, darling," he drawled, his voice dripping with mischief. "Let's have some fun, shall we?"

And that was how you ended up fake-dating Ominis Gaunt.

At first, it was just small things—little gestures designed to sell the illusion. Ominis would walk you to class, hold doors open for you, lean in close when you spoke so it seemed like you were sharing something secret, something intimate.

It wasn’t bad. In fact, it was.. quite nice.  Pleasant even.

Ominis was handsome—sharply so, with his angular features and regal posture. He was charming, too, undeniably a gentleman. He treated you well—better than well. If you hadn’t already been hopelessly in love with someone else, you might have been in danger of falling for him for real.

The first time he kissed your cheek, it was at breakfast.

The Great Hall was loud, buzzing with idle chatter and the clatter of silverware, but the moment Ominis leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek—so soft and brief, like it was something he’d done a hundred times before—the world seemed to pause.

You heard the sharp inhale Sebastian took from across the table.

A beat of silence.

Then, chaos.

Gasping. Whispering. A sudden scraping of chairs as people leaned in to murmur, eyes darting to you, to Ominis, to Sebastian—who hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, but had gone very still, his knuckles white as he gripped his fork. The sound of your name mixed with Ominis’s swirled around you in frantic, excited voices.

"Are they together?"

"Since when?"

"They never said anything!"

The rumors spread like fiendfyre. By lunchtime, people were glancing at you with barely contained excitement, whispering whenever you and Ominis walked past. At dinner, Imelda raised an eyebrow and said, "Didn’t peg you for Gaunt’s type, but you two are sort of cute together, I suppose."

And all Sebastian did was sit there.

Not a word. Not a single comment. Just tense silence.

Ominis, for his part, was thoroughly enjoying himself. His theatrics only increased as the day went on—light touches on your arm, a hand resting at the small of your back when you walked, the occasional teasing whisper that made it look like he was saying something scandalous. But the longer it went on, the more painfully obvious it became:

There was a Sebastian-shaped void in your heart.

And no matter how much you enjoyed Ominis’s company, no matter how sweet and effortless it all felt—he wasn’t him.

He wasn’t the one you wanted to laugh with, to steal glances at when he wasn’t looking. His touch wasn’t the one you craved, his voice wasn’t the one you longed to hear first thing in the morning. It wasn’t Ominis who made your heart race with just a look, who made your pulse stutter every time he leaned in a little too close.

It was Sebastian.

And Sebastian, the idiot, was doing absolutely nothing.

Until the fifth day.

Until you were sitting in the common room, curled up on the couch with Ominis, his arm slung lazily over the back of the cushions behind you, when Sebastian finally—finally—snapped.

It started small, just a shift in the air, a tension that hadn’t been there a moment ago. You felt it before you saw it—before you looked up and found Sebastian standing over you, his expression unreadable, his jaw tight.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked.

Your breath caught. His voice was even, but there was something off about it. Something dangerous.

Ominis hummed beside you, amused. "She’s rather comfortable at the moment, Sallow. Surely it can wait?"

Sebastian’s eyes flickered to him, dark and sharp. "No, it can’t."

Ominis barely concealed his smirk. He made a show of shifting away from you, drawing his hand back, and you knew he was enjoying every second of this.

You let Sebastian pull you from the couch, his grip firm around your wrist as he all but dragged you out of the common room.

Only when you were alone—tucked away in a quiet corridor where no one else could hear—did he let go.

Your wrist tingled where his fingers had been. You swallowed, suddenly nervous under the weight of his stare.

Sebastian didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, staring at you, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. His hands clenched into fists, like he was barely restraining himself.

"Since when?" His voice was rough, the words scraping against his throat.

You blinked. "Since when what?"

His expression darkened. "Don’t play dumb," he said, stepping closer. "Since when have you liked Ominis?"

You hesitated. There were a thousand ways you could answer, a thousand ways you could end this little charade—but you weren’t sure you were ready to.

"Why do you care?" you asked instead, your voice quieter than before.

His eyes flashed. "Why do I—" He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "Are you serious?"

"You never cared before," you pointed out, tilting your chin up. "You're the one spending every waking moment with some girl or another. Why does it matter if I'm with Ominis?"

"Because he’s not right for you," Sebastian snapped. "He doesn’t—he’s not—" He broke off, frustrated, like the words were getting caught in his throat. "Do you even like him?" he asked suddenly, voice sharper now, accusing.

You swallowed. "Of course I do."

"Yeah?" Sebastian's lips curled, a flicker of something cruel in his expression. "Then say it."

Your stomach twisted. "Sebastian—"

"Say you love him," he challenged, stepping closer. "Tell me you love him."

For a long, aching moment, the two of you just stared at each other. The dim glow of the torches cast shadows across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw, the storm raging in his dark eyes. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen him like this before—so desperate, so unguarded.

And maybe you should have ended it right there. Maybe you should have told him the truth—that it had all been fake, that Ominis had only done it to force his hand, that you had always wanted him. But after years of pining, years of watching him chase after other girls while you sat on the sidelines, something petty and reckless inside you wanted to push him just a little bit further.

You inhaled slowly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze with as much conviction as you could muster.

"I love Ominis," you said.

It was a lie, a flimsy, paper-thin thing, but you said it anyway.

Sebastian stilled.

For a moment, there was nothing—just the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, the way the candlelight flickered against the stone walls.

Then he laughed—a hollow, humorless sound.

"You're such a shit liar," he muttered.

He took another step forward, closing the remaining space between you, and suddenly, there was nowhere to go. Your back hit the cold stone wall, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, but Sebastian didn’t touch you. He just stood there, so close you could feel the heat of him, smell the faint scent of cedar and parchment and something distinctly him.

You had spent years longing for Sebastian Sallow, years waiting for even a fraction of this attention. And now? Now he was looking at you like he was one breath away from devouring you whole.

You swallowed hard, summoning every ounce of stubbornness you had left. "I'm not lying."

His lips twitched. Wrong answer

"Yeah?" he murmured. "Then say it again. Say it like you mean it."

You swallowed hard. "Alright fine," you admitted. "Maybe I don't love him, but—"

"But what?" His hand slammed against the wall beside your head, fingers curling into a fist as he exhaled sharply through his nose. "I don't get it. You don't even fucking like him that way, it's obvious, and yet suddenly you're dating?"

A lump formed in your throat. "Why does it matter?! You've never cared before!"

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

"You think I don't care?" His fingers twitched at his sides, his restraint fraying right before your eyes. "You think I could just sit there and watch you be with someone else and not lose my fucking mind?"

He scoffed.

"Do you have any idea what these last few days have been like for me?" he leaned even closer—so close now that his nose brushed yours. "Watching him touch you like that? Watching you smile at him like he hung the fucking stars?"

Your heart slammed against your ribs. "Sebastian—"

"No." His hands came up, fingers brushing against your jaw before gripping—not rough, not painful, but enough to hold you still. Enough to make sure you listened. "I have been hopelessly in love with you for years, and now you're dating my best fucking friend?"

You felt like the air had been knocked from your lungs.

Sebastian Sallow—your best friend, the man who had occupied every stolen thought, every quiet wish, every stupid, hopeless dream—was looking at you like you were his entire world. Like he couldn’t breathe without you.

You stared at him, lips parted, breath caught in your throat.

"You... you love me?"

"Of course I love you," he said, voice rough with frustration, with desperation. "How could you not know that?"

"Because you never said anything!" you shot back, your voice trembling. "Because you’ve spent years acting like I was just your friend while you flirted with every other girl in Hogwarts! Because you—"

Sebastian cursed under his breath. "None of them were you!"

Your breath hitched.

"None of them ever mattered," he continued. "Do you hear me? Not a single one of them."

His hands were trembling now, his jaw tight, his brows drawn in an expression that looked almost pained. His thumb brushed against your cheek, just barely, as if testing whether this was happening, whether he had already lost you.

Your resolve crumbled. Seeing him like this, you couldn’t lie anymore.

Not when you had spent years pretending you were fine being his friend. Not when he was right here, raw and desperate, telling you everything you had ever wanted to hear.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

Sebastian's eyes widened, his breath hitching like you had just knocked the wind out of him. His grip on you faltered for a split second—like he couldn’t believe he had actually heard the words.

"You do?" He breathed.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, your heart racing. "Of course I do, I always have."

Sebastian let out something between a laugh and a shuddering breath, like he had just been freed from something unbearable.

But then his fingers tensed against your cheek, his brows furrowing.

"Then why the hell are you dating Ominis?" he demanded, his voice still breathless but frustrated now, like his brain had just caught up with the situation.

You winced.

Well. This part was going to be awkward.

You hesitated, your hands reaching to grip the front of his robes as you avoided his piercing stare. “Uh… well—”

“Well?”

You cleared your throat. “Technically, I’m not… really… dating Ominis.”

Silence. Dead, suffocating silence.

"What?"

You winced again, gripping his robes tighter. “It isn’t real.”

“…Excuse me?”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Ominis—uh, may have suggested it, you see, and I may have agreed to—”

Sebastian pulled back, staring at you in disbelief. “You’re fake-dating my best friend?”

You nodded weakly. “Mmm. Just a bit.”

Sebastian opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. And then he groaned, dragging both hands down his face, his entire body practically vibrating with irritation. “I lost my fucking mind for five days over something that wasn’t even real?”

You bit your lip. “Well, when you say it like that—”

Sebastian cut you off by grabbing your face, tilting it up, his eyes blazing.

“You schemed with Ominis,” he growled, shaking his head, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You plotted against me.”

You gave him a sheepish smile. “Yes, but it worked, didn’t it?”

Sebastian inhaled sharply through his nose, his grip on you tightening. Before you could even think of saying anything more, he crashed his lips against yours.

You gasped into his mouth, but he didn’t give you a second to react. Didn't give you a second to tease him, to smirk about how well your little plan had worked, because he was done playing games.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, kissing you like he was staking his claim, like he was furious with you but couldn’t stop himself. And you—you melted instantly, hands threading through his hair, pressing yourself closer, deeper, letting him consume you whole.

It was heat and desperation and frustration, the kind of kiss that made your entire body feel weak, made you feel like Sebastian was the only thing keeping you upright, and fuck—

You were so gone for him.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths ragged.

“You conniving little minx,” he murmured, shaking his head, though there was something almost fond beneath the exasperation in his voice. “You really schemed against me.”

You shrugged, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “To be fair, it was Ominis’s idea.”

Sebastian pulled back just enough to glare at you. “Of course it was.”

“I just went along with it.”

He scoffed. “Oh, sure. Just an innocent bystander in your own elaborate scheme.”

“Well,” you tilted your head. “I didn’t know if it would work. I didn't even think you liked me that way.”

Sebastian groaned, dragging one hand through his hair before gripping your waist even tighter. “Merlin, you really don’t have a single clue, do you?”

You hesitated, chewing your lip. “I mean… no, but I was pretty hopeless, so... desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Sebastian let out a strangled laugh, his eyes narrowing. “Unbelievable.”

You gave him an innocent smile. “Are you saying you would’ve confessed if I hadn’t fake-dated Ominis?”

Sebastian let out a huff, tipping his head back like he was asking the ceiling for patience. Then he leveled you with a pointed stare. “I don’t know, maybe I would have! Eventually! I was getting there!”

You snorted. “Yeah? When? After I married someone else?”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. “Not funny.”

You grinned, unable to stop yourself. “Kind of funny.”

His fingers flexed against your waist, like he was debating whether to throttle you or kiss you again.

“I should be furious with you,” he muttered.

You tilted your head, considering. “But you’re not.”

His jaw worked. “No. Because now I finally have you.”

A slow, deliberate clap echoed from down the corridor.

You both whipped around to see Ominis, leaning far too casually against the wall, looking deeply pleased with himself.

"Beautifully done," he said, smirking. "Truly magnificent."

Sebastian groaned, dragging both hands down his face. "Merlin’s bloody beard."

You, on the other hand, couldn’t help the way your lips twitched as you met Ominis’s self-satisfied gaze. He looked positively smug, arms crossed, head tilted slightly like he was enjoying every second of this.

“I hate you,” Sebastian muttered at him.

Ominis hummed, completely unbothered. “No, you don’t.” He pushed off the wall, taking a few slow steps toward the two of you. “In fact, I daresay you love me. Perhaps not as much as you love her, but still.”

Sebastian scowled, muttering something under his breath about “smarmy little bastards” while Ominis grinned like he’d just won the House Cup.

“I have to admit,” Ominis continued, tapping a finger against his chin, “I thought you’d crack after three days. Four, at the most. But no, you really dragged it out.”

Sebastian shot him a glare. "Piss off."

Ominis only grinned.

"Enjoy your night, lovebirds," he said, strolling away like he hadn’t just orchestrated your entire love life.

His footsteps retreated, and Sebastian let out a frustrated groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You laughed breathlessly, still a little dazed, still reeling from everything that had just happened. "So… are you going to thank him later?"

Sebastian huffed against your skin. "I’m going to kill him later."

Then he pulled back just enough to kiss you again. And this time, neither of you stopped.

Banner Credit

[4linos]

fractured silence pt. 3

yang jeongin x idol!reader

synopsis: when your pregnancy complicates your secret relationship, the emotional distance between you and your boyfriend grows, leaving you unsure of where you stand and what the future holds.

warnings: idol pregnancy, lots of fluff, angst, hurt/comfort.

wc: 17,645

[part 1, part 2]

It was a quiet, still morning, the kind you usually cherished. The sun had barely climbed high in the sky, its golden rays pouring gently through the curtains of your room, casting a soft glow over the space. You had just returned from your latest check-up, now officially eight and a half months along. The visit had gone smoothly, the doctor confirming what you already knew: you were almost there. So close to the moment your life would change forever.

You’d done everything you could to stay under the radar, hoodie on, mask tight, oversized clothes hiding your growing belly. You didn’t even tell the girls you were going out. You just wanted a moment of peace, to feel like a regular person doing a regular thing. And for a little while, it worked.

Now, back in your room, you were sprawled across the couch with your feet up, absently watching a show that didn’t have enough of a plot to hold your attention. Your hand rested instinctively over your bump as you scrolled through your phone, eyes half-focused until a headline jumped out at you, bold and brutal.

“Idol on Hiatus Due to Pregnancy? Rumors Swirl Around Stardust Member, Y/N.”

You froze. Your heart dropped so fast you felt sick. Your fingers trembled as you clicked on the article. It wasn’t long, and there were no photos, no names from company officials. But the damage was already done. It was out there.

Despite your efforts, the silence, the fake reason for the hiatus, the long hours spent hiding away, someone had leaked it. Someone had taken the choice from you.

Your eyes scrolled to the comments before you could stop yourself.

“No way. I don’t believe it.”

“Is she serious? Throwing her career away like this?”

“There’s no proof, this is fake news.”

“Honestly if it’s true… I’m disappointed.”

Each word hit like a brick to the chest. You’d been prepared for judgment, but seeing it in black and white? It was worse than you imagined. You wanted to disappear.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. Jeongin.

You answered without even thinking.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice urgent and full of worry.

You tried to answer, but the words didn’t come out right away. Your throat was tight, and your heart was racing. “No,” you finally whispered. “I’m not okay.”

“I saw it. I saw the article. I'm so sorry— I don't even know what to say.”

Before you could answer, another buzz lit up your screen, a message from Jinhee.

Jinhee: Emergency meeting. Company needs you in immediately. Please hide well when coming. No press can see you. I'm so sorry.

You stared at the text in disbelief, the room suddenly spinning just a little. Everything you’d feared for months, the exposure, the scrutiny, the fallout was unraveling before your eyes. The careful plan to take a quiet hiatus, to give birth privately and come back on your own terms, was gone.

Jeongin was still on the line, waiting. “Do you want me to come with you?” he asked softly. “I’ll go. I’ll be there.”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him. “No. It’s better if you don’t. They’re already going to twist this. If we’re seen together right now... it’ll only make it worse.”

He hesitated. “I hate this. I hate that you have to go through this alone.”

“I’m not alone,” you said, even though the loneliness sat heavy in your chest. “But I have to do this. I have to face them.”

He exhaled shakily. “Okay. But please call me right after. I’ll be waiting.”

You ended the call slowly, reluctant to lose even that tiny bit of comfort. But there wasn’t time to cry or process, not now.

You grabbed your mask, oversized hoodie, pulled your hair into a loose cap, and stood in front of the mirror. Your eyes were puffy, your body tired, your belly unmistakable beneath the layers of fabric. But you squared your shoulders, steadied your breath, and reminded yourself of something you had to believe: You were still you, even if the world had decided to see you differently.

And now, it was time to fight for yourself.

The company building was quieter than usual or maybe it just felt that way. You were walking through the familiar halls, the sound of your shoes against the floor the only thing you could hear over the thunderous beating of your own heart. Every step felt heavier, like each one brought you closer to something you weren’t ready to face.

You reached the meeting room and paused at the door, taking one last deep breath before walking in. The girls were already there. Jinae was sitting upright, eyes glued to the table; Minsu was chewing on her bottom lip like she always did when she was nervous; and Chae, looked up the moment you stepped in, standing up to greet you with a gentle hand to your arm.

“Are you okay?” she asked, voice soft but urgent. The others turned to you, eyes full of concern.

You gave them a small nod and a rehearsed, too calm “I’m fine,” even though nothing about this felt fine. You could tell they didn’t believe you how could they, when your shoulders were so tense and your jaw so tight? But they didn’t press. They just made room for you to sit between them like they always did when they knew you needed them close.

Moments later, the door opened again. Jun entered first eyes tired, mouth set in a grim line. Behind him came Jinhee, who gave you a brief, apologetic look, followed by two more company reps you didn’t know well, faces serious and businesslike. Everyone took their places, the air thick with tension.

Jun cleared his throat and looked at all of you, but mostly at you.

“This isn’t ideal,” he began. “It’s not how we wanted this to happen. Someone seemed to have leaked information to the press. It’s already out there, and the article is spreading.”

You felt your stomach twist again. You’d already read the article, already seen the comments tearing you apart the denial, the judgment, the disappointment. You didn’t need to hear it again.

Jun sighed. “We have two options. We can deny the rumors, issue a statement that this is baseless, just speculation. But if anything comes out after that… if there's any confirmation down the line…”

“We’ll be liars,” you finished for him, your voice bitter.

He hesitated. “Yes. And that could be even more damaging. To you, to the group, to the company.”

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “With all due respect, this was your idea from the beginning. You told me to lie. You told me to disappear quietly and not say a word.”

The room was silent for a beat.

Then one of the company representatives, a man you didn’t even know by name spoke up from across the table.

“Why not just come clean?” he said casually, like he wasn’t suggesting the very thing that could destroy your entire career. “Tell the truth. People are going to find out eventually. Why not control the narrative now?”

Before you could even respond, Jinae turned her head so fast you thought she might’ve pulled something. Her glare was sharp and immediate.

“Do you understand what you’re asking her to do?” she asked, voice low and clipped.

Minsu nodded, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You want her to put her life on fire so you can write a good press release?”

Chae added, “She’s not a headline. She’s a person. And she’s pregnant. Don’t forget that part.”

You swallowed hard, heart swelling at their defense even though your eyes burned with fresh tears.

The man held up his hands. “I’m just saying.. the longer we stay silent, the worse it could get. Controlling the truth is better than letting people twist it.”

Jun cut in again before things could spiral. “No one’s forcing her to do anything.” He looked at you again, more gently this time. “We just need to be realistic. The story is out there. There’s no guarantee it’ll go away.”

You looked around the room. Everyone was waiting on you. Like you were the only one who could make this call, but also the one who’d take the fall either way. Your lips trembled as you finally said, “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

And that was the truth.

Because how do you tell the world something they never asked for, something you weren’t ready to give? How do you explain that you didn’t mean to hurt anyone that you were just trying to love someone, to live a little, and now everything might fall apart?

You looked down at your belly, your hand resting gently on the curve of it, the smallest kick tapping back against your palm.

You weren’t just deciding for yourself anymore.

And that made everything so much harder.

-

It had been hours since the emergency meeting, and though the company’s vague statement had finally gone public, nothing really felt resolved. If anything, the silence only made things worse, the uncertainty, the unspoken fear, the way people online began to fill in the blanks with their own narratives. You scrolled through social media in bed, jaw clenched, heart heavy. The statement was vague, sterile..

“We are currently looking into the situation. Please refrain from speculation until an official update is provided.”

It wasn’t exactly protective, but it was better than being thrown under the bus… for now.

Still, you couldn’t relax. The weight of everything the secrecy, the fear of what might come next, the guilt about Jeongin, the burden of protecting both your baby and your career was pressing in on you from all sides. You hadn’t been able to keep food down, and every time you tried to sleep, your mind spiraled through worst-case scenarios.

The dorm, usually lively and filled with chatter and music, had gone quiet over the past few days. Jinae, Chae, and Minsu were around for a short rest from their own schedules, and they made it a point to stay close to you. They tried their best to distract you, Jinae brought snacks and put on your favorite dramas, Minsu dragged her blanket into the living room and made a cozy space to lay down beside you, and Chae spent every free moment near you, humming gently, rubbing your back when she thought you needed it most.

But something was off today.

You’d been feeling light cramps since that morning, a low discomfort in your back that had started small, barely noticeable. At first you’d brushed it off, just another side effect of stress, right? Or maybe just normal end-of-pregnancy things. You didn’t want to scare the girls, didn’t want to worry them more than they already were, so you stayed quiet.

But by afternoon, the tightness in your stomach became more rhythmic, sharper, harder to ignore. You bit your tongue when a sharp pulse hit you suddenly, tears pricking at your eyes.

It was Chae who noticed first.

She turned from the TV to find you sitting frozen, your knuckles white from gripping the couch cushion. “Hey… are you okay?”

You shook your head quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine, just—just a cramp—”

But then your breath hitched. You let out a soft cry before you could stop yourself.

“Jinae?” Chae’s voice raised an octave, full of panic. She scooted toward you just as Jinae stood from the kitchen, her eyes narrowing.

“What’s going on?”

“She’s in pain,” Chae said quickly. “Like… real pain.”

Minsu rushed over from her room, phone already in her hand. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”

You tried to wave them off, but another contraction rolled through your body and you bent forward, gripping your belly. “Something’s… wrong…”

“No,” Jinae said firmly, already helping you to your feet. “We’re not waiting”

They helped you into a coat and shoes, supporting your arms. The car ride was a blur. Your breathing came in sharp, shaky bursts, tears sliding silently down your cheeks. Chae sat beside you in the back seat, holding your hand the entire time. Minsu drove like her life depended on it.

By the time you reached the hospital, your world had narrowed to the pain and the overwhelming fear in your chest.

The nurse who greeted you was quick, a check-in, some quick vitals, then straight into an exam room. “You’re in labor,” she said calmly, and your heart dropped into your stomach.

“No, I’m not ready,” you whispered, the words falling from your lips as panic bloomed in your chest. “It’s early. It’s too early.”

“It’s a little early, yes, but you and your baby are both okay right now,” the nurse said gently, signaling for someone to prep a room. “We’re going to take care of you.”

The girls had fallen quiet. Jinae’s hand found yours again, firm and grounding. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “We’re here, right? You’re not doing this alone.”

Minsu nodded, already halfway out the door. “I’ll call Jeongin.”

“I’ll get your hospital bag,” Chae said, disappearing down the hall toward the car without hesitation.

But you barely registered their voices.

You lay back on the hospital bed, a mess of fear and tears and pain. This wasn’t how you pictured it. This wasn’t the moment you’d imagined, no quiet nursery, no weeks of nesting, no last-minute baby prep. You still didn’t know what your future looked like, not with the company, not with the world. But the one thing you did know was this:

The baby was coming.

Ready or not.

-

The moment Jeongin burst into the delivery room, everything around you stilled for a second like time paused just so you could take in the look on his face. He was breathless, cheeks flushed from running, his mask barely clinging to one ear, and his hair was a complete mess under his hoodie, but none of that mattered. His eyes searched for you immediately. And when they found you exhausted, drenched in sweat, tears dried on your cheeks and hand clutched tightly in Jinae’s he rushed to your side without hesitation.

He didn’t even say anything at first. He just cupped your face, pressed a kiss to your damp forehead, and then another to your temple, before finally whispering, “I’m here. I’m here. Are you okay?”

You couldn’t speak. You were too overwhelmed with pain, fear, emotion, but your eyes watered as you managed the tiniest nod. Jinae, ever the anchor, spoke for you, her hand still resting lightly on your shoulder.

“apparently she’d been having cramps all day, but didn’t really tell us until Chae noticed she wasn’t doing okay.” she explained to Jeongin gently.

Jeongin’s jaw tensed as he turned back to you, eyes scanning every inch of your face, as if trying to read through your pain. “Why didn’t you call me earlier?” he asked, voice soft, concerned not angry, just deeply scared for you.

You gave him a tired, fragile smile, your grip on his hand tightening. “Didn’t think it was time,” you breathed, “I wasn’t ready.”

He leaned in again, brushing your hair off your forehead with a trembling hand. “You don’t have to be ready. I’ll be ready for both of us. Just hold on a little longer, okay?”

Jinae excused herself quietly, placing a hand on your shoulder in quiet support before stepping out. Jeongin looked up just long enough to mouth “thank you” to her, and the weight in his voice wasn’t lost on her.

What followed felt like the longest hours of your life.

The contractions were intense, coming faster now, every wave threatening to drown you. Jeongin didn’t leave your side, not for a second. He held your hand through every breath, whispered encouragements in your ear even when your body trembled too much to focus on his words. He wiped your tears, whispered “you’re doing so good,” over and over again, even when you felt like you weren’t.

And then it happened.

A final push, every muscle in your body straining with everything you had left and then…

A cry. Tiny, but powerful. The sound sliced through the room, filling every corner with something electric and raw and real. You collapsed back against the hospital bed, tears rushing down your face, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to process it.

Jeongin let out a laugh that was really more of a choked sob. His face crumpled the moment he heard your baby’s first cry. “That’s him,” he whispered, awe painting his voice with something reverent. “That’s our boy…”

You couldn’t even answer. You just nodded weakly, tears slipping down your cheeks again as you watched the nurses clean him, measure him, swaddle him.

“He’s perfect,” Jeongin breathed. “He’s so small. So perfect…”

You felt his hand slip into yours again as he turned back to you, kissing your knuckles. “You did that,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “You did all of that. I’m so proud of you. So proud.”

The nurse finally brought him over, wrapped snugly in soft blue and white, and the moment she gently placed your baby into your arms, it hit you all over again.

This was real.

This tiny, warm, pink-faced little boy… was yours. Yours and Jeongin’s.

He blinked slowly, as if confused by the world he had just been brought into. His little fingers curled near his cheek, and his breathing was soft and even.

Jeongin sat beside you, one arm around your shoulders, the other carefully resting over yours as you both looked down at him.

“Welcome to the world, little one,” he whispered.

And for the first time in what felt like months, you didn’t feel scared. Or tired. Or anxious.

You just felt full of love, of peace, of something you didn’t know you’d been missing until that moment.

And Jeongin, still looking down at his son, said it again, this time louder, steadier:

“I’m here. For both of you. Always.”

Jeongin sat there in the hospital chair, cradling little Yejun in his arms like he was the most fragile and precious thing in the world, and to him, he probably was. His hand supported the baby’s head with practiced gentleness, and his eyes never left his son’s face. It was quiet in the room, the soft hum of monitors fading into the background, the weight of everything that had happened resting somewhere far away from this moment.

Jeongin’s voice was low, barely above a whisper as he spoke to Yejun, his words soft and sweet like a secret only they shared.

“You’ve got your mama’s nose,” he murmured with a small smile. “That’s a good thing. She’s the prettiest person I’ve ever met.”

He reached out to gently trace a tiny curve of the baby’s cheek with his finger, watching in fascination as Yejun shifted just a little in his arms, lips parting in sleep.

“You don’t even know how lucky you are yet,” he went on, glancing toward you for a second eyes warm, filled with so much love it made your chest ache. “You’ve got her. And you’ve got me. And I promise, I’ll protect you both with everything I’ve got.”

You lay in the hospital bed, head resting against the pillows, utterly exhausted but unable to look away from the sight of the two of them Jeongin, wide-eyed and reverent, and your newborn baby, bundled up and quiet in his arms. Your eyes burned as you watched them. It was surreal, after everything, this was your life now. This little boy was yours. And Jeongin... he was really here.

Jeongin finally stood up and came to your side, careful and slow with every movement as he handed Yejun over to you. You adjusted yourself slightly in the bed, cradling your baby to your chest, and you gave Jeongin a tired but utterly soft smile.

“Did the company say anything?” you asked after a moment, voice weak but steady. “About you being here?”

His smile faltered slightly, and that was answer enough. You watched the way he looked toward the floor before meeting your eyes again, hesitant.

“I... didn’t tell them,” he admitted quietly. “I kind of just left.”

Your brow furrowed. “Jeongin—”

“They’ve been calling nonstop,” he added quickly, “I know. I know. I’ll probably get chewed out later or worse, but... I just couldn’t stay away.”

You blinked at him, processing his words. “They’re going to be so angry. You know that.”

“I don’t care,” he said, firm now. His hand reached out, cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “None of that matters right now. All that matters is you... and him.”

Your breath caught in your throat. It wasn’t just the words, it was the way he said them. So sure. So sincere. As if nothing could ever pull him away from you again. And maybe, after everything, that was what you needed most to hear.

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” you murmured again, not because you wanted to argue, but because you were scared for him, for the weight of what this moment meant in the world outside of these four walls.

“I know,” he said. “But he only comes into the world once. And I’m not going to miss that for anyone, not even the company.”

Your eyes welled up again. You looked down at Yejun, his tiny chest rising and falling against yours, his warmth settling over your skin like a blanket, and then back up at Jeongin, whose hand was now resting protectively over both of you.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For being here.”

He leaned in and kissed your forehead again, lingering for a moment before resting his own against yours.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

The quiet calm of the hospital room didn’t last long, not that you minded. Within moments, the door swung open and the girls came rushing in like a whirlwind of excited energy and love. Jinae was first, holding a handful of light blue balloons with little white clouds and a big “Welcome Baby!” banner tangled around her wrist. Chae and Minsu followed behind, carrying a gift bag nearly half their size that was overflowing with tissue paper in pastel colors. Their faces lit up the moment they saw you sitting up in bed with your son in your arms, and the room filled instantly with warm laughter and squeals of excitement.

“There he is!” Chae beamed, her voice cracking with emotion. “Oh my god, look how tiny he is!”

Minsu didn’t even hesitate. “Can I hold him?” she asked, eyes wide, bouncing on her heels like a kid waiting for candy.

You smiled, glancing at Jeongin who was still standing by your side like a guard dog and a proud dad rolled into one. He looked at you, silently asking if it was okay, and when you nodded, he carefully leaned down and helped Minsu cradle baby Yejun in her arms.

“He’s perfect,” Minsu whispered immediately, her voice trembling slightly as she swayed side to side, instinctively rocking him. “He’s seriously perfect.”

Jeongin grinned, chest puffing up slightly. “I know, right? He’s got the tiniest fingers. Look at his ears. He yawned earlier and I nearly cried.”

Chae and Jinae gathered around Minsu, cooing at the baby and gently touching his little hands and feet. “He’s going to be spoiled,” Jinae said knowingly, eyes gleaming. “He has no idea how loved he is already.”

“He’s going to grow up with four moms,” Chae added with a laugh, nudging Jeongin. “Five, if you count you. You’ve barely blinked since he was born.”

“I’m just making sure he’s okay,” Jeongin defended with a sheepish grin. “And that she’s okay too,” he added, turning his attention back to you.

You could see it in his eyes, he hadn’t stopped worrying about you even for a second. While the girls bickered over who would hold Yejun next, Jeongin leaned in close, brushing your hair gently away from your face.

“Are you feeling alright? Do you need water? Food? I can run out and grab something if you’re hungry. Or I can ask the nurse—”

“Jeongin,” you interrupted softly, smiling up at him. “I’m okay. I promise.”

He gave you a look, not convinced, still on full alert, but he nodded anyway and reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “You scared me,” he murmured. “Going into labor so suddenly like that. I thought we had more time.”

You sighed, your body heavy with exhaustion, but your heart full. “Me too. But he had other plans.”

The girls had now passed Yejun into Chae’s arms, and she was whispering something about how she wanted to knit him a tiny beanie, while Jinae opened the massive gift bag to show you an entire set of newborn clothes, soft blankets, and a tiny framed card that said ‘Welcome to the world, Yejun.’

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at their chaos, it was comforting, grounding. Even in a sterile hospital room with all the uncertainty still looming beyond those walls, this moment felt perfect.

You leaned your head against Jeongin’s shoulder, still watching your baby get passed from arm to arm, and whispered, “This… feels like a dream.”

Jeongin kissed the top of your head gently, his voice just as soft. “Then let’s never wake up.”

-

The hospital room felt quieter that morning, still warm and soft with the gentle scent of baby powder and fresh linens, but quieter in a way that tugged at your chest. You sat on the edge of the bed in your discharge clothes, Yejun bundled up in his tiny baby onesie, swaddled in a blue blanket with little stars on it, asleep in your arms. Jeongin had been fussing all morning, fixing the straps on the car seat, making sure your discharge bag had everything in it, adjusting Yejun’s tiny hat over and over again, even though it was perfectly snug.

He didn’t want to leave.

You could see it all over him. The way his shoulders stayed tight, how his eyes kept flickering between you and the baby, like he was trying to memorize every last detail before he had to walk out that door. He had schedules, ones he couldn’t get out of this time, even though he’d begged. His company had drawn the line. He was lucky to have gotten this much time off to be here for Yejun’s birth at all.

“I hate this,” he finally muttered under his breath, gently pressing a long, soft kiss against Yejun’s tiny cheek. “I should be the one taking you home.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm with a small, tired smile. “I’ll be okay. Jinae’s almost here. She said she’s five minutes away.”

Jeongin gave a reluctant sigh and leaned down to buckle Yejun into the baby seat that sat on a small rolling cart beside your bed. He was so gentle, adjusting the tiny straps over your son's chest, making sure they weren’t too tight. “You be good, little guy,” he whispered, watching as Yejun stirred slightly in his sleep. He reached out, and his tiny hand wrapped around Jeongin’s finger in a surprisingly firm grip.

Jeongin’s lips quirked into a smile, his eyes suddenly glassy. “He’s strong,” he said softly. “Just like you.”

He turned back to you then, his expression shifting, the proud father melting into the man who had stood beside you through every high and low, the man who loved you more than he could explain. He stepped toward you and wrapped his arms around you tightly, burying his face in your hair. The warmth of his body was grounding, safe, and it made the ache in your chest spread wider.

“I’ll call you the second I get in the van,” he murmured. “And later tonight. And tomorrow morning. I’ll sneak out if I can. I swear. Just hang in there a little longer.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, your throat thick with emotion so you simply nodded, your arms winding around his middle just a little tighter. You didn't want him to see the tears welling in your eyes. You didn’t want to cry and make it harder for him to leave, even though every part of you wanted to ask him to stay.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much. And I love him more than I ever thought I could love anything.”

Another nod. Another squeeze. You were going to miss him the moment he walked out that door.

Right then, the door creaked open and Jinae peeked in, slightly out of breath and clutching her phone in one hand and a small bag in the other. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said gently, catching sight of the two of you tangled in each other.

Jeongin let out a quiet chuckle, not turning away just yet. “Perfect timing,” he said under his breath. Then, slowly, reluctantly, he pulled back. He turned to Jinae and offered a grateful nod. “Please take care of them. Both of them.”

Jinae gave him a soft, understanding look and nodded. “Of course. Always.”

With one last glance at you, eyes full of unspoken words Jeongin stepped close to Yejun and gave him one more kiss on his tiny forehead. “Appa loves you,” he whispered, voice thick. Then he leaned over and kissed you, slower this time. A kiss that said I’ll be back. I’m not going anywhere.

And just like that, he was gone.

The room felt quiet again, but this time in a different way. Not lonely, just… paused. Waiting for the next chapter to begin.

When Jinae helped you up the few stairs to your dorm door, your body still sore and heavy with exhaustion, the last thing you expected was what you saw the moment the door swung open.

“Welcome home, Yejun & Mommy!” a big banner read in bright, cheerful letters, strung across the entryway.

The entire dorm was filled with light laughter and soft squeals as you stepped inside, greeted by a sea of baby blue balloons scattered across the wooden floor like soft bubbles. Some had little stars drawn on them in silver marker, others had “Yejun” scribbled across in cute handwriting probably Minsu’s, based on the little hearts surrounding each letter. A faint sweet scent filled the air, vanilla and something a little floral. Your heart squeezed in your chest as you looked around.

“Oh my God,” you breathed out, laughing softly as your hand came up to cover your mouth, the wave of emotion washing over you all at once.

The girls stood proudly around the entrance. Chae was the first to rush forward, arms out to greet you, her voice full of excitement. “Surprise!” she beamed. “Jinhee helped us decorate! She even dropped off food for you like, a lot of food, but she had to go before you got here.”

You nodded, overwhelmed and grateful. “You guys… seriously. This is too much.”

“It’s not even close to enough,” Minsu grinned, quickly hurrying over to you and Jinae, who had just finished settling Yejun’s baby seat down on the floor gently. “You deserve everything.”

Then she leaned in and mischievously looped her arm through yours, practically bouncing. “Okay, okay we have a huge surprise for you. But you have to close your eyes.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Another surprise? You guys already—”

“Nope!” Jinae cut in, smiling. “Eyes. Closed.”

You laughed softly, heart warm, and shut your eyes with a nod. “Alright, alright. But bring Yejun, okay?”

“Already on it!” Minsu called, and you could hear the girls giggling softly as they quietly tiptoed around, getting everything ready.

Carefully, they guided you down the hallway, past the familiar walls of your dorm, but when you stepped into your room, the air felt… different. New. You could hear a whisper-shouted “Surprise!” and opened your eyes, heart thumping.

You gasped.

The room, your room, which used to be modest and simple had been completely transformed. A brand new crib stood by the window, painted a soft gray with moon and star carvings along the sides. Next to it, a bassinet rested gently beside your bed, and an adorable white changing table stood stocked with baby wipes, diapers, tiny creams, and tiny socks rolled into bundles.

Soft blue and cream curtains now hung where your plain ones used to be, and a new fluffy rug had been laid down, plush under your tired feet. On one wall, a little wooden name sign spelled out “Yejun” in delicate cursive, and on another, picture frames had already been put up, some with little drawings, others waiting for your first family photos.

You felt your throat tighten as the tears welled up. “You guys…” you breathed, lips trembling into a smile.

“We wanted you to have a space for both of you,” Chae said gently, stepping beside you.

“If the crib breaks, Minsu built it,” she added with a laugh.

Minsu gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me! It is stable and perfect! I watched like three tutorials!”

You let out a soft, watery laugh, reaching over and gently taking sleeping Yejun into your arms from Jinae, who had been swaying slightly with him as he slept.

You brought him closer to the crib, holding him up just slightly as if showing him the room built for him with so much love. “Look, baby,” you whispered. “This is your new home.”

The girls watched quietly as you leaned down and gently placed Yejun in the crib for the first time. He stirred only slightly, his tiny hand twitching against his blanket as he snuggled deeper into sleep.

You turned back to your members, who were now leaning on the doorway and walls, beaming proudly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice cracking. “Really. I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Jinae stepped forward and hugged you, tight and warm. “You don’t have to do anything without us. We’re here. All the way.”

And in that small, glowing room with love pressed into every corner and a baby boy sleeping in a crib built by your family, you finally let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

You had barely had time to soak everything up when Yejun’s little face scrunched up, a tiny whimper escaping his lips. You sighed softly, instinctively reaching for him again, but Chae was already ahead of you.

“I got him,” she said with a gentle smile, lifting him from the crib and into her arms. “You go eat. Rest. I mean it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, eyes flicking between her and your son, who was beginning to fuss more intensely now.

She nodded confidently, brushing a thumb gently over Yejun’s cheek as she bounced him slightly. “I’m serious. If I can memorize a 5-minute dance in one practice, I can handle this tiny bean. Go eat.”

You chuckled quietly, heart warm, and muttered a soft “Thank you” as you turned toward the kitchen table where Jinae and Minsu were already seated, waiting with two warm trays of food, courtesy of Jinhee.

Jinae pushed one toward you. “Here. She brought you seaweed soup and grilled chicken with rice said it's good for recovery.”

“And there’s also some ginger tea in the thermos,” Minsu added. “Smells kinda weird, not gonna lie, but she said it helps with digestion and energy.”

You smiled gratefully, sitting down with a wince, still sore in places you hadn’t known could hurt and picked up your chopsticks. As you began to eat, the comforting warmth of the soup spreading through you, you watched Chae in the living room.

She had set Yejun down on the changing mat you kept in the corner and was expertly unsnapping his onesie. You paused mid-bite, eyebrows raised. “She’s really doing it,” you mumbled.

“Honestly?” Jinae said, leaning back in her chair. “She’s doing better than I did my first time changing my cousin.”

“She’s doing better than me and I gave birth to him,” you joked lightly, earning a laugh from Minsu.

“She’s a natural,” Minsu said with a smirk. “Already a pro.”

“I heard that!” Chae called from the living room without turning around. “Don’t jinx me!”

You were just about to respond when your phone, sitting beside your tray, buzzed sharply. You glanced down and saw the name instantly, Jeongin.

Minsu leaned over with a teasing grin. “Didn’t even give you a full two hours before checking in, huh?”

You rolled your eyes fondly, warmth blooming in your chest as you wiped your fingers on a napkin and picked up the phone. “It’s like he knew the second I set Yejun down,” you muttered before answering quickly.

“Hey,” you greeted softly.

“Hey,” Jeongin replied almost instantly, his voice a little out of breath like he’d run to a corner of the building just to call. “How are you? Did you make it home okay? Did they decorate? Was it the surprise you wanted?”

You let out a small laugh, touched. “Yes. It was perfect. They really went all out.”

“I wish I could’ve stayed longer,” he mumbled. “I barely got to hold him…”

“You were with us every moment you could be. He knows,” you reassured, your voice lowering as you leaned slightly away from the girls for a little privacy.

“Is he okay?” he asked quickly, barely giving you time to breathe. “How’s he doing? He ate, right? He’s not too cold? Did you get to rest yet?”

You smiled despite yourself, eyes drifting to the living room where Chae was now gently lifting Yejun, talking softly to him while patting his back. “He’s okay. Chae’s got him right now. She changed him and everything.

“She did?” Jeongin laughed quietly, almost in disbelief. “She’s braver than me. He screamed bloody murder when I tried earlier.”

“He fussed a little,” you said softly, watching them, “but she’s doing amazing.”

“You both are,” he said, voice quieter now. “I know you’re tired… but thank you. For doing all of this. For him. For… us.”

Your heart softened at his words, the exhaustion clinging to your bones momentarily replaced by that strange warmth again, the one that always came when he reminded you how much he cared.

You didn’t say anything right away, but your silence spoke volumes, and Jeongin didn’t press.

“I’ll call again tonight, okay?” he finally whispered. “And tomorrow. And every day until I see you both again.”

“Okay,” you whispered back, the corners of your lips lifting.

Just before you hung up, you heard him chuckle again and say gently, “Tell Yejun I miss him already.”

You stared at the phone for a second after the call ended, heart a little fuller than before.

“Everything okay?” Jinae asked.

You looked up and nodded. “Yeah… he misses us.”

Minsu reached over and squeezed your shoulder with a knowing smile. “He’s not the only one.”

And in that tiny dorm filled with baby blue balloons and quiet warmth, you finally took another bite of your soup, a little more comforted than before.

You settled into your new rhythm at the dorm, a life so vastly different from the one you had just months ago, yet somehow fuller, softer, and warmer. The air always carried a gentle hum now not just from baby monitors or lullabies playing faintly in the background, but from the constant, quiet love that surrounded you. Your members, your sisters, wrapped themselves around you and Yejun like a warm blanket.

Each of them had settled into their own roles naturally, seamlessly. Jinae, ever the grounded and calm one, took on the “mom friend” energy with ease making lists, helping you manage baby supplies, and gently coaxing you to nap even if it was only for twenty minutes while she rocked Yejun in her arms. Chae was full of chaos and heart, always ready to make you laugh, even if it meant doing a ridiculous impression while trying to bottle-feed Yejun. She was loud and energetic, but with your son, she softened, something about the way she hummed lullabies when she thought no one was listening always made your chest ache in the best way.

Minsu was the most surprising, she had this quiet affection, often expressed through little things. You’d wake up from a nap to find your laundry folded, your favorite drink in the fridge, or a new onesie for Yejun she picked up “just because it was cute.” She didn’t hover or fuss, but you always knew she was watching, making sure everything you needed was in place, even if you never had to ask.

The days blurred together a little, bottles, diapers, cries in the middle of the night, and the smallest moments that made all the fatigue worth it. Yejun’s soft sighs when he fell asleep on your chest. The way his tiny hand instinctively curled around your finger. His little yawns, and the first time he almost smiled in his sleep, those moments carved themselves into your memory like stars dotting the sky of your new life.

And Jeongin, even with the distance, even with the world between your dorm and his schedules, he never let you feel forgotten. He called every day, sometimes multiple times. His texts were random, a “did Yejun burp okay?” at 3 a.m., or a “you doing alright today?” during lunch break, but they reminded you of something simple and solid: that he was trying.

You’d often pick up his calls with a sleeping Yejun against your shoulder. He’d greet you in that soft voice he reserved only for these moments, the one that was laced with exhaustion but also love.

“I miss you,” he’d whisper. “I wish I could be there. It doesn’t feel right being so far.”

Sometimes, his calls came between music show rehearsals or as he hid in a stairwell to avoid his manager. You could hear the strain in his voice, not just the tiredness from dancing and singing all day, but the emotional weight of missing his baby boy, of missing you.

“I watched the fancams today,” you’d tell him with a small smile, voice low as you rocked Yejun to sleep. “You looked good. The fans went crazy.”

“I didn’t feel good,” he’d admit, and you could hear the crack behind the joke in his tone. “My head was all over the place. I kept thinking about if Yejun cried today. If you got any rest. If I should’ve just snuck out again…”

“You’re doing your best,” you’d whisper. “He knows. I know.”

There was always a pause after that. A moment where silence didn’t feel heavy but full. Full of all the things neither of you could say aloud, not right now, not yet, but both understood deeply.

Some nights, he’d ask you to hold the phone near Yejun while he slept, just so he could listen. And he’d stay on the line long after your responses had faded, the soft breaths of his son a lullaby he’d memorized over time.

And though the days were long and the nights often longer, with the quiet ache of what-ifs and stolen time, there was something beautiful in how love stitched all the pieces together, messy and imperfect, but unwavering.

You were figuring it out, the sleepless nights, the healing body, the balancing act of who you were before and who you were becoming. But you weren’t doing it alone. And that, somehow, made all the difference.

You were bouncing Yejun gently in your arms, the dim light from the living room lamp casting a soft glow across the dorm’s cozy silence. It had been a long day, not exhausting in the way that tore you apart, but tiring in the slow, steady way new motherhood tended to be. The girls had left early that morning, their flight whisking them off for an overseas performance that would span the weekend. They'd helped pack up everything the night before, triple-checked your fridge for food, and reminded you to text them the moment you needed anything. You reassured them like always, you were fine, Yejun was fine. It was just another weekend.

You had just laid Yejun down for a nap when your phone buzzed softly. It was Jeongin.

Is anyone at the dorm with you?

You paused briefly, thumb hovering over the keyboard. You didn’t think much of it at first, maybe he was just wondering if you had help, maybe he was worried you were alone. You responded simply.

Nope, just me and Yejun.

Less than a minute passed.

I’ll be there soon.

Your eyes widened slightly. Here? Now?

Your heart gave a small flutter, one you didn’t bother trying to suppress. You knew he missed Yejun. He hadn't seen him in over a week. Between your hiatus and his relentless schedules, time moved fast, but moments like these, being with Yejun were things he never wanted to miss.

Just be careful, you typed quickly, thumbs moving faster than your thoughts. No one can see you.

I will, came his reply. Promise.

The next thirty minutes passed in a slow rush. You straightened up a bit, tucked away a few bottles, re-smoothed the baby blanket over Yejun. You weren't sure why you were suddenly nervous. Maybe because this visit felt different. It was the first time in a while that it would be just the three of you. No girls, no distractions, no rushed hellos in the middle of the night. Just Jeongin. You. And your son.

And then, a soft knock at the door.

You opened it quietly, and there he was. Black cap low over his brows, mask still clinging to his face, eyes wide and tired but full of something warmer. You didn’t say a word. Neither did he. Not at first.

He stepped in quickly, shut the door behind him, and before you could even catch your breath, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You let yourself melt into him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne and the soft fabric of his hoodie. He pulled back slightly just to press a rushed, messy kiss to your lips, then another, then one to your cheek, your jaw, your forehead.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against your skin. “So much.”

Your arms tightened around his middle. “I missed you, too.”

But before you could say more, a soft sound came from the side of the room, a quiet whimper. The tiniest, familiar cry.

Jeongin froze, and then smiled.

“That’s my boy,” he whispered, already moving toward the bassinet.

You watched from behind as he crouched down and carefully reached in. Yejun blinked sleepily up at him, little fists waving in the air. The moment Jeongin’s arms wrapped around him, the baby stilled. A soft hum escaped Yejun’s lips, followed by a gentle sigh, almost like he knew like he remembered this presence, this scent, this voice.

Jeongin looked down at him like he was the most delicate, perfect thing in the world. “He’s bigger,” he whispered, eyes glassy. “His cheeks got chubbier. Look at you, buddy.”

Yejun blinked slowly, nestling into his father’s chest, tiny fingers curling around the drawstring of Jeongin’s hoodie. And Jeongin just stood there holding him, eyes never leaving the tiny face resting against him.

You stood beside them quietly, taking it all in, the soft way Jeongin swayed instinctively, the low hum he offered that lulled Yejun back to a sleepy state, the way Jeongin kissed the top of his head like he’d been waiting months just to do that again.

Then Jeongin looked over at you, his voice barely audible.

“I hate not being here.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“I want more of this. I want…” he looked down at Yejun, eyes heavy with emotion. “I want to be there for everything.”

You stepped closer, resting your head against his arm.

“You are,” you told him softly. “You’re doing the best you can.”

But the guilt in his eyes didn’t waver. And still, there was so much love. So much longing.

That night, you stayed up later than you had in weeks. The three of you curled up together on the couch, Yejun tucked between you both, Jeongin’s hand on his son’s back and your hand in his. There were no cameras. No managers. No pressure.

Just your small, hidden family.

And for a little while, the rest of the world didn’t matter.

-

The soft hum of the night wrapped around the dorm, the only sounds coming from the subtle whirr of the heater and the gentle, even breaths of baby Yejun sleeping in his bassinet nearby. You and Jeongin sat side by side on the couch, the room dimly lit, with a warm blanket draped over both your legs. Yejun had long since drifted off, soothed by the rhythm of Jeongin’s heartbeat and your soft voice, and now rested peacefully just a few feet away. But Jeongin hadn’t said much since laying him down again, and you noticed it.

You turned toward him slightly, your eyes narrowing as you studied the side of his face. His smile was there, but it wasn’t the same. It was thin, tight. Tired.

“Hey,” you said softly, nudging him gently with your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He blinked out of his thoughts and glanced at you, the smile still there, but sad. It wavered a bit, like he didn’t have the energy to pretend.

“I just…” he started, his voice low and a little strained. “I just hate this. Not being with you two every day.”

Your chest ached at the vulnerability in his tone. You reached out instinctively, slipping your hand into his and squeezing it, nodding.

“I know.”

He exhaled, shaking his head like he was still working out the words before finally saying them. “What if… what if we lived together?”

You blinked.

“I mean it,” he added, more sure now, sitting up straighter. “I’ll get an apartment, something simple, private. Yejun would have his own room. You’d have your space. We’d finally be together. I could come home after a long day and see both of you there… I wouldn’t miss things anymore.”

You stared at him, heart pounding not because you didn’t want it, but because you did. So badly.

And that made it hurt more.

“Jeongin…”

“I know,” he said before you could respond fully, already sensing your hesitation. “I know it’s not that easy. But just think about it. You wouldn’t have to keep going through all this alone. We could figure it out, together.”

You looked at him, into the quiet hope in his eyes, and you wanted to give in. You wanted to say yes. That idea of waking up with him there, watching him carry Yejun around in pajamas, the three of you curled up in one space that was yours, it wasn’t just tempting. It felt like the dream. Something so close it felt real.

But it wasn’t.

Not yet.

“I want to,” you admitted softly. “Yes, I want to. But I can’t, not right now.”

His face fell. Not in frustration, but in that quiet, disappointed way you knew he was trying hard not to show too much emotion.

“I still have my idol responsibilities,” you continued gently. “This hiatus is temporary. When it ends… I’ll have long days. Just like you. Busy schedules. Long hours. Rehearsals. Interviews. Performances. Everything.”

He was quiet, nodding slightly, but his jaw tensed.

“I understand that,” he said after a moment, “but… who’s going to be there for Yejun when that happens?”

You opened your mouth but had no answer.

“If we lived together,” he continued, trying to reason with it all, “we could split it. I’ll stay with him when you’re busy. And when I’m busy, you’ll stay with him. We’ll make it work.”

“It’s not that simple,” you whispered. “What if we’re both gone? What if we both have back-to-back schedules? What if it overlaps and neither of us can be there?”

Jeongin looked down, his brows drawn together.

“I know,” he said after a long pause. “I know you’re right. I’m just scared.”

You softened, leaning into him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“So am I.”

He turned his head, kissing the top of yours.

“I just want to be a good dad,” he whispered. “And I want to be with you.”

“You are,” you murmured. “You’re already both.”

And though the moment lingered in a cloud of uncertainty, the warmth of his arm around you, and the quiet, sleeping sounds of your son just a few feet away, grounded you both in a truth stronger than any plan.

You didn’t know how you’d make it work. Not yet.

But you both wanted to.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

-

It was a quiet afternoon, the kind you’d grown to appreciate in the chaos of your new life. The dorm was filled with soft laughter and the gentle coos of Yejun. The girls had offered to look after him for a bit so you could have some rare time to yourself, and while it was hard to pull away, the momentary silence was a relief. You stretched out on your bed with a book that had been sitting on your shelf untouched since your pregnancy, finally able to breathe without keeping an ear out for baby cries.

Then your phone buzzed.

Jeongin.

Your brows furrowed. He never called around this time, especially knowing that you were usually resting or trying to get a small break. Your heart jumped with concern, was everything okay? Was something wrong with him? Was he hurt?

You slipped out of your room quickly, poking your head into the living room where the girls sat with Yejun, who was contently playing with a soft toy in Minsu’s lap. Jinae looked up with a small smile, instantly calming some of your worry.

“Everything’s okay,” she said, reading your face. “He’s being an angel.”

You nodded in thanks, quickly ducking back into your room and shutting the door softly behind you before answering Jeongin’s call.

“Jeongin?” you asked, your voice slightly breathless, “Is everything alright?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then another.

“…No,” he said finally, his voice lower than usual, almost hollow. “No, not really.”

Your stomach twisted. “What happened?”

“I… I just need you to know something before it comes out.” His tone was careful, heavy, and it made your chest tighten.

“What are you talking about?”

“No matter what happens, I hope you won’t be too upset with me,” he said. “I just… I had to do it. I needed to. For you and for Yejun. I want to be closer to you both.”

Now you were panicking.

“Jeongin, what did you do?”

“I have to go. I love you. I love Yejun so much. Please just… remember that, okay?”

And just like that, the line went dead.

You stared at your phone in complete confusion, your pulse rising like a storm starting inside your chest. What the hell did he mean by that?

Your fingers worked faster than your mind, already pulling open every app, scrolling for answers, updates, anything that could explain what he meant.

And there it was.

Your heart dropped as you saw it: the JYP Entertainment logo sitting bold and ominous at the top of a new post.

The words “official statement” made your blood run cold.

You clicked it.

And read it.

“Hello, This is JYP Entertainment.

We would like to share some personal news regarding Stray Kids’ I.N. Recently welcomed the birth of his child. While this news may come as a surprise, we ask for your understanding and support during this personal and important time in his life. To ensure that he can focus on the wellbeing of his family and spend time with his newborn son, I.N will be taking a temporary leave from his group schedules. We ask the public and media to respect the privacy of all involved.

Thank you.”

You stared at the words.

You read them again.

And again.

And with each pass, it felt like the air in your lungs grew thinner. The room felt smaller.

Your child. His family.

He announced it.

No names were used no photos, no details, but everyone would know. Everyone would connect the dots. This was huge. A JYP idol, openly admitting to becoming a parent and stepping back for it? It wasn’t just shocking, it was unprecedented.

And the worst part?

He hadn’t even warned you.

You felt the anger bloom beneath your skin, rising like boiling water. You understood why he did it.

You knew he meant well. But this? Making a public statement like that without talking to you not just as the mother of his child, but as someone whose own career, own future, was directly impacted by this? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t okay.

He had promised not to put you or your group in jeopardy. He had promised to be careful. And now, even without your name, your fans everyone would speculate. They’d start digging. It wouldn’t be long before someone made the connection.

And worst of all… he’d done it alone. Without you.

Your phone buzzed again. A message from him.

Jeongin: “Please don’t be too mad. I wanted to tell you earlier. I just didn’t know how. I did it because I want to be there. Really be there. Not just sneak around to see you and Yejun. I want to do this right.”

You stared at the message, heart hammering, frustration swirling deep in your chest. You believed him, that part was never in question. But trust wasn’t just about intention. It was about action. And he’d made this choice alone.

And now?

Now everything was going to change.

You sat on the edge of your bed, clutching your phone, not knowing whether you wanted to scream, cry, or call him back.

Maybe all three.

Your phone buzzed again, but you ignored it. You needed a minute.

Because this time… he didn’t just step on a line, he crossed it.

-

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm amber glow through the dormitory windows, you found yourself alone. The girls had left for practice, leaving the apartment unusually quiet. The stillness was soon interrupted by a gentle knock at the door. Your heart skipped a beat as you approached, peering through the peephole to see Jeongin standing there, his posture slightly hunched, hands tucked into his pockets.

Taking a deep breath to steady the whirlwind of emotions within you, you opened the door. Jeongin's face lit up with a hopeful smile as he stepped forward, arms outstretched to embrace you. But the memory of the day's events was still fresh, and your feelings were too raw. You instinctively took a step back, avoiding his touch.

He paused, his arms falling to his sides, a sigh escaping his lips. "I know you're upset," he began, his voice laced with regret. "I'm sorry for not discussing it with you first, but I felt I had to do this.”

A bitter chuckle escaped you as you crossed your arms over your chest. "Had to?" you echoed, disbelief coloring your tone. "Jeongin, making such a monumental decision without consulting me, is that truly the best way to handle our situation?"

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. "The statement didn't mention any names," he argued. "I thought it would keep things private."

Your eyes narrowed, anger bubbling to the surface. "Private? Are you serious? Do you remember the article that surfaced just before I gave birth, speculating about my pregnancy? This statement only fuels those rumors. And now, Yejun is dragged into this media frenzy.”

Jeongin's expression hardened. "Why are you making this such a big deal?" he questioned, his voice rising slightly.

That was the breaking point. "Because my career is on the line!" you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. "I'm sorry if I'm not jumping for joy over this."

A soft wail from Yejun's bassinet cut through the tension. Jeongin's demeanor shifted instantly. He brushed past you, his focus solely on his son. Lifting Yejun into his arms, he gently rocked him, whispering soothing words until the baby's cries subsided. Carefully, he placed Yejun back into the bassinet, ensuring he was comfortable.

Turning back to you, Jeongin reached into his pocket and produced a set of keys, holding them out toward you. "I thought you'd be happy," he said softly. "I wanted this to be a joyful moment. I've secured an apartment for us, a place where we can be a family. Yejun has his own nursery, fully furnished. I've moved in already. The only things missing are you and Yejun."

The weight of his words hung heavily between you. While his intentions were clear, the execution left much to be desired. The path to building a life together was proving to be more complex than either of you had anticipated.

The silence between you and Jeongin was heavy. Even after his heartfelt gesture, the storm of emotions in your chest hadn’t quite passed. You were still upset, still frustrated, but underneath it all, there was a deeper emotion simmering quietly: fear. Fear of what the future held for you, for Jeongin, for Yejun. Fear of how fragile your world felt now that everything was teetering on the edge of exposure.

You crossed your arms, your eyes avoiding his for a moment before you finally broke the silence. “I’m still really upset,” you admitted quietly. “But… I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.” Your voice wavered, soft with exhaustion. “I was just… scared, Jeongin. Everything’s been so overwhelming, and I wish you had talked to me before making such a huge decision. I hate feeling like I’m not part of things that affect all of us.”

Jeongin’s expression softened immediately. “You’re right,” he said, stepping closer again. “I was stupid—I didn’t think it through. I just… I saw you drowning in stress, and I felt helpless. I thought maybe I could fix something for once.”

You let out a breath, and when he opened his arms again, you let yourself fall into them this time. His embrace was tight, warm, the familiar way his hand curved around your back calming the restlessness in you just a little. He kissed the side of your head, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself be in that moment.

A tiny whimper from Yejun broke the quiet, and you both turned to see his small body wriggling in the bassinet. Jeongin’s eyes lit up with the kind of joy that never failed to make your heart ache, and he pulled away from you gently, walking over to scoop his son up into his arms.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered softly, kissing Yejun’s head. “You ready to see your new room?”

Yejun gurgled in response, his little hands reaching up toward his father’s face. You walked over slowly, watching them with a fondness that dulled some of the anxiety in your chest.

“Wait, so it’s real?” you asked softly. “The apartment? The nursery?”

Jeongin turned to you with a look of mock offense. “Why would I lie about that? Of course it’s real. I’ve been working on it for weeks.” He chuckled softly. “The members even helped. Chan-hyung built the crib, and Seungmin found the nightlight you said Yejun needed. It’s got everything, books, clothes, food, diapers… even a rocking chair.”

You sighed, half-exasperated, half-touched. Your eyes lingered on Yejun’s peaceful expression as you leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “What do you think of your crazy dad?” you murmured to him. “He does all this without even asking…”

Jeongin laughed, rubbing small circles on Yejun’s back. Then his eyes met yours, this time more serious, more vulnerable. “I meant what I said,” he told you. “I really want you both there. I want to wake up and hear his little sounds in the morning. I want you to come home to a place that feels safe. It’s ready—it’s all ready. It’s just missing you and Yejun.”

You swallowed hard, that tight knot in your throat forming again. You wanted that too, you did. But your thoughts were still scattered, clouded by the weight of responsibility and fear of what might come next. The scandal, the fans, your career, your return, it all loomed over you like a fog you couldn’t quite see through.

“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, voice quiet. “I’m not saying yes, and I’m not saying no. I just… I need to clear my head. My mind’s everywhere right now.”

Jeongin nodded, not pushing you further. “That’s okay,” he said, stepping forward to brush your hair back gently. “Take your time. I’ll wait. I just want you to know the door’s always open.”

And as you stood there, the three of you wrapped in the stillness of the dorm, you wondered if maybe, just maybe the future you were so afraid of might not be as terrifying with him by your side.

-

When Jeongin finally left that evening, there was a quietness in the dorm that lingered like the aftertaste of an emotional whirlwind. You stood there for a moment, Yejun softly gurgling in the bassinet, your thoughts caught between the memory of Jeongin’s offer and the uncertainty still clouding your chest. You barely had time to sort through them before the front door opened again, the girls pouring in one after the other noisy, chaotic, warm, and familiar.

“Where’s my baby boy?” Minsu practically yelled, kicking off her shoes as she made a beeline toward Yejun without even glancing in your direction.

“I swear, none of you care about me anymore,” you called out sarcastically, though there was a smile tugging at your lips.

Chae laughed as she finally acknowledged you, her arms wrapping around you in a quick hug. “We missed you too, mom of the year,” she teased, then pulled back just enough to study your face. “You look... thoughtful. Everything okay?”

You hesitated. It wasn’t a question you could brush off, not this time. There was too much swirling in your chest to bottle it up anymore. You gave a small nod toward the couch, silently suggesting you all sit down. Something about the way your voice softened as you said, “I want to talk to you guys,” shifted the energy in the room instantly. The chatter died down. Minsu stopped tickling Yejun’s little feet and looked up. Jinae narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she took the seat across from you. Chae sat beside you, one hand on your arm.

“What’s going on?” Minsu asked, brows already furrowing.

You took a breath, trying to find the right way to say it. “Jeongin got a place,” you began slowly, your eyes flicking from face to face. “An apartment. It’s already furnished, has a nursery for Yejun… everything.”

Chae tilted her head, cautious. “Okay... and?”

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, voice quieter now. “He asked me and Yejun to move in with him.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

“I haven’t said yes,” you added quickly, before they could jump to conclusions. “I just… wanted to talk to you guys first. I needed to know how you’d feel if I moved out.”

Their reactions came gradually. Jinae blinked a few times, processing. Minsu leaned back with a soft ‘huh.’ Chae’s lips parted slightly, her eyes flicking toward the bassinet.

“You’re serious?” Jinae finally asked. “Like… fully move out?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah. He says he wants to be around more for Yejun. And I get that. I want that too. I really do. But I also don’t know what this means for me, for the group, for all of us.”

Chae placed her hand over yours again, gentler this time. “Do you want to go?” she asked carefully.

You were silent for a second before answering. “Part of me does,” you admitted. “He’s Yejun’s dad, and… he’s trying so hard. He made this whole place just for us. But the other part of me is terrified. What if people find out? What if this all backfires? I love you guys, I love living here with you. But I don’t want to hold Yejun back from having both of his parents close.”

Minsu sat up straighter, her voice sincere. “Hey. First of all—no matter where you live, we’re always going to be your family. That doesn’t change. Second… it sounds like he really wants to step up. And maybe, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. You’ve been doing this on your own for a while, and you’ve done it so well. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

Jinae gave you a small smile. “We’d miss you like crazy. But you wouldn’t be abandoning us. You’d be doing what’s best for you and your son.”

Chae leaned her head on your shoulder. “Just promise us that when you need us any hour, any day, you’ll still call. We’re not going anywhere, okay?”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you nodded slowly, overwhelmed by the love they still offered you so effortlessly. “Okay,” you whispered. “I promise.”

And just like that, the tension in your chest loosened a little. Maybe you weren’t ready to say yes yet. But at least now… it didn’t feel so impossible.

You spent the whole night thinking lying in bed, eyes on the ceiling while the soft hum of the dorm quieted around you. Yejun had finally drifted off after his last feeding, and the soft rise and fall of his little chest next to yours should’ve been enough to lull you into sleep too. But your mind wouldn’t stop racing.

The apartment. The nursery. The idea of waking up in the same space as Jeongin every day, raising Yejun together, making a life not just as co-parents, but something more, something real. It was terrifying. It was overwhelming. But maybe… it was also the right step forward.

By morning, the apartment was still tugging at the back of your mind. You stood at the threshold of the living room where the girls were already immersed in their morning rituals. Chae was stretched out on the floor, baby Yejun bundled up beside her as she took picture after picture of his squishy cheeks and sleepy yawns, giggling softly every time he blinked. Jinae and Minsu were curled up on the couch with steaming mugs of coffee, their quiet chatter mixing with the hum of the morning news on low volume.

You stood silently for a moment, letting the warmth of the scene fill you, savoring it because you knew what you were about to say might change things.

You cleared your throat. “Hey,” you said, a little too quietly at first. They barely heard you. “Guys?”

Chae glanced up first. “What’s up?”

You walked toward them, hands nervously brushing against your thighs. “I’ve been thinking about what we talked about yesterday.”

That made everyone go quiet.

You took a deep breath. “And I think… I think I’m going to do it. I’m going to move in with Jeongin.”

The silence stretched for a beat longer than expected.

You rushed to add, “Not just for me, or for him. But for Yejun. I think it’s what’s best for him to have both of us around. As much as I love it here, as much as I love you guys, I think it’s time.”

Minsu slowly set her mug down, a grin creeping onto her face. “Okay, now that was a plot twist.”

Jinae stood up, walked over to you, and pulled you into a warm hug. “We knew it was coming. We just wanted you to be sure.”

Chae gently scooped Yejun up from the blanket and waddled toward you dramatically, hugging both you and the baby at once. “We’re going to miss you so much, it’s ridiculous.”

Then the others joined, creating a tight, messy, emotional group hug, Yejun half-asleep in the middle, mumbling a soft noise of protest that made all of you laugh through the lump in your throat.

“You have to send updates,” Jinae sniffed.

“Daily updates,” Minsu said firmly.

“Hourly,” Chae corrected, making you laugh.

“I promise,” you said, your voice warm with gratitude. “You can visit any time. I’ll be back all the time too.”

You excused yourself shortly after, heart racing as you pulled out your phone and dialed Jeongin. The second he picked up, you could hear faint ambient sounds in the background, some muffled traffic, a dog barking in the distance, maybe even the quiet buzz of a fridge.

“Hello?” he said, voice low but hopeful.

“Hey,” you said softly. “Are you home?”

“Yeah… I’m at the apartment right now,” he replied, a nervous chuckle in his voice. “Just… soaking it in. Wondering if maybe today’s the day.”

You smiled to yourself, nerves settling with each word. “It is,” you said.

There was a beat of silence. “Wait—what?”

“I said yes,” you repeated, laughing a little. “We’ll move in with you. Me and Yejun.”

He was completely silent, then let out a loud breath of disbelief. “You’re serious?”

“I am.”

“Wait—are you messing with me?” he asked quickly. “Don’t play with me right now. I’m standing in the middle of the living room and I just looked at the rocking chair and almost cried.”

“I’m not messing with you,” you promised, smiling so hard your cheeks ached. “We’re really coming home.”

And on the other end of the line, Jeongin was quiet for a few seconds before you heard him whisper, “I can’t believe it.”

Then, louder, a grin in his voice: “I swear, this is the best day of my life.”

You chuckled through the warmth filling your chest. “Better than the day Yejun was born?”

“That’s top-tier, but this? This is real. This is our future.”

And you couldn’t help but believe him.

It had been nearly four months since you moved into the apartment with Jeongin and baby Yejun, and life had begun to take on a quiet kind of rhythm beautiful, messy, soft. The kind of rhythm that didn’t need music because Yejun’s baby giggles filled the air instead. Each morning started with Jeongin’s sleepy hair and your baby's bright smile, and the rest of the day unfolded like a delicate routine you had built together: diaper changes and coffee breaks, stolen kisses over the baby monitor, and late-night cuddles when Yejun couldn’t sleep unless he was nestled between you both.

Yejun had grown into a playful little bundle of energy, always giggling, always grabbing at anything near his chubby hands, always watching the two of you with wide, adoring eyes. He was curious about everything, especially Jeongin’s voice and your fingers. And every morning, without fail, he would reach for you the second you leaned close enough to kiss his forehead. Today was no different.

You had to head out for your first official company meeting in what felt like forever. Your nerves danced under your skin as you crouched in front of Yejun, kissing his cheeks over and over while he squirmed and laughed and grabbed at your hair, his soft little hands refusing to let go.

“I’ll be back soon, baby,” you whispered. “Be good for daddy, okay?”

He gurgled a response, and you smiled, even though your chest ached at the thought of leaving.

Jeongin, ever the calm in your storm, scooped Yejun up with a laugh and gave you a long, slow kiss. “We’ll be fine,” he promised as he pulled away, brushing a thumb against your cheek. “I’ll call if anything happens. But today? Today is daddy and Yejun bonding day.”

You smiled, nerves still lingering, and nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you both soon.”

The ride to the company building felt longer than usual, even though the streets were quiet. Your heart hadn’t raced this fast since you stood backstage at your last show, stomach fluttering with nerves, mic in hand, lights waiting to warm your face. You’d missed that feeling. You missed being on stage.

When you finally stepped into the meeting room, it was strangely calm. No cameras, no full room just a small group: Jun, Jinhee, and a few key company staff. They welcomed you warmly, genuine smiles on their faces, and a few even congratulated you on Yejun with soft, surprised laughter.

Jun gave you a firm nod. “You look good,” he said. “Well-rested.”

You laughed a little at that, maybe it was the makeup hiding the tiredness. “Yejun lets us sleep most nights. It’s a miracle.”

Jun smiled faintly before his tone shifted. “So, how are you feeling about everything? About returning?”

You inhaled slowly and said the truth. “I miss it. I miss performing. The fans, the stage… the energy of it all. I want to come back.”

Jinhee gave you a proud, but slightly sad smile like she already knew the weight of the words you’d just spoken.

Jun leaned forward. “That’s good to hear. Because… and I’ll be honest, if you had said otherwise, the company was already considering plans to remove you from the group.”

Your smile faltered.

The silence in the room thickened for a second before Jinhee, quickly sensing the shift in your mood, interjected gently, “But that’s not going to happen. You made your choice and you’re here. They just wanted to be sure your heart was in it. That you weren’t feeling forced.”

You nodded slowly, even though your hands felt cold. “I understand,” you said quietly. “I… I love being a mom. I love Yejun. But I’ve worked so hard for this career. I know it’s going to be hard, balancing everything, but I want to try.”

Jun stood then, gathering his things, his voice brisk but not unkind. “Then I’ll let them know. Thank you for coming today.”

You gave him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

As he and the other reps filed out, Jinhee moved closer, sliding a printed schedule in front of you.

“These are the upcoming commitments you’ll be reintegrating into,” she said. “It’s staggered, we’re easing you in for the next few weeks some rehearsals, choreography updates, variety prep, then eventually stage performances.”

You took the paper with a shaky breath. It was real now. Not just an idea. Not just a maybe.

“Do you want to tell the girls yourself?” Jinhee asked gently.

You looked up at her and nodded. “Yeah. I think I need to.”

She gave you a knowing smile. “They’re going to be so happy.”

You smiled, but this time it was laced with both excitement and fear. This new version of you, a mother, an idol, a woman in love was stepping into unfamiliar territory. But even with the fear, there was something else blooming in your chest.

Hope. For yourself. For your dreams. And for the family waiting at home.

Your fingers lingered on the printed schedule Jinhee had given you. It felt surreal to see your name on a line-up again real, tangible proof that your comeback was happening. It wasn’t just a daydream in your head anymore. You were returning not just as the same person, but as someone entirely new reshaped, stronger, a little softer, and full of purpose.

Jinhee smiled as she gathered her things, then paused at the door and turned back toward you. “The girls are in the practice studio right now. You should go surprise them.”

You blinked. “Right now?”

She nodded, a grin forming. “Yes! Go on—it’ll make their day. They’ve missed you more than they let on.”

You exhaled a nervous little laugh, heart thumping as she pointed toward the direction of the studio. “Okay… I guess it’s time.”

Your footsteps echoed quietly down the hallway, memories flooding back as you passed the familiar walls. The sound of music thumping behind the studio door brought a rush of nostalgia and nerves. You paused for a second to compose yourself, brushing your hands against your sides and letting out a steadying breath before slowly pushing open the door.

The moment the door creaked open, four heads snapped toward you and then, chaos.

Squeals erupted from every corner of the room as Minsu, Jinae, and Chae rushed toward you, shouting your name with uncontainable joy. You barely had time to laugh before their arms wrapped tightly around you, almost knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“Wait, wait—don’t crush me!” you giggled, your cheeks already aching from the smile you couldn’t hide.

“Where’s Yejun?!” Chae immediately demanded as she pulled back just enough to look at you.

You laughed, holding up your hands. “He’s okay! Still the same dramatic little baby you saw last week. I promise, he’s safe at home with Jeongin.”

They all let out a breath of mock disappointment and cooed anyway, clearly already missing their honorary baby group member.

Jinhee stepped into the room behind you with a wide grin, arms crossed proudly. “Well? Don’t you want to tell them something?”

You raised a brow, feigning a dramatic sigh as you stepped to the center of the room, the girls hanging on your every word.

“Okay,” you started solemnly, biting your bottom lip. “So… I actually came here to let you all know… I’m leaving the group.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Their faces dropped, joy flickering out like a candle snuffed too soon. Jinae’s eyes widened, and Minsu let out a tiny, heartbroken “what?”

You couldn’t hold it anymore you burst out laughing. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”

“Hey!” Chae shouted, smacking your shoulder playfully as the rest of them groaned in relief. “Are you serious?!”

“You should’ve seen your faces!” you said between laughs, tears starting to pool at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming emotion.

“So what’s the real news?” Jinae asked, breath still catching.

You took a soft breath and met their eyes, heart thumping again, but this time from happiness. “I’m coming back. Officially. I’m joining you again.”

The room erupted again, this time with shouts of joy and relief and laughter as they rushed you a second time, pulling you into the tightest, warmest group hug imaginable.

“I knew it,” Minsu said through a sniffle. “I just knew you’d come back.”

“You belong with us,” Jinae whispered, resting her chin on your shoulder. “And we missed you so much.”

You held onto them tightly, overwhelmed by their love.

And though you had changed in many ways, one thing remained constant: this group was still your family too.

-

When you stepped through the front door of the apartment, it felt like the world slowed down for a moment. The scent of baby powder and Jeongin’s cologne greeted you first, familiar, comforting, like home had been waiting for you to walk in. The soft hum of the TV played in the background, but it was the sound of laughter that truly filled the space. Not just any laughter, Jeongin’s, light and playful, mixed with the sweetest baby giggles.

You walked into the living room to find them both on the couch, Jeongin sitting cross-legged, holding Yejun up in the air like he was the most precious thing in the world. Yejun’s little fists were curled, cheeks full, and there were smudges of yogurt around his mouth. He looked so proud, like he knew he had his dad wrapped around his tiny finger.

They were snacking on the small yogurt melts you kept in a container for Yejun, except Jeongin was clearly sneaking bites too.

You raised a brow, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorframe with a teasing smirk. “Those treats are for Yejun, you know.”

Jeongin turned to look at you with that signature sheepish grin, shrugging as he popped another one into his mouth. “They’re good! You shouldn’t have left them in plain sight.”

Yejun caught sight of you and his entire face lit up, his little legs kicking in excitement as he stretched his arms toward you. You melted instantly, hurrying over to him with open arms.

“Hi, baby,” you cooed, lifting him into your arms and showering his chubby cheeks with kisses. He erupted into happy squeals, his tiny hands patting your face.

Jeongin scooted closer to you on the couch, his hand resting on your leg as he looked at you expectantly. “So… how did it go?”

You let out a soft sigh, glancing down at Yejun, who was now busy grabbing your necklace with intense concentration. “They’re ready for me to go back,” you said gently. “My first day back is next week.”

His expression faltered slightly, just for a second but you caught it. The subtle downward curve of his lips, the way his shoulders sank just a little. He gave you a small pout, shifting closer. “Four days,” he mumbled. “That’s all we have left with you home all day.”

You turned toward him, resting your cheek against Yejun’s head and reaching out to take Jeongin’s hand in yours. “I know,” you whispered, squeezing his fingers. “But I promise, I’ll spend every single minute I can with you two until then.”

Jeongin leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before brushing his lips against your temple. “I know. I’m proud of you, you know? You’re doing all of this, for yourself, for Yejun, for us. I just wish we had more time.”

You smiled through the soft ache in your chest, your fingers brushing over his knuckles. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

And in that quiet, warm little apartment, surrounded by half-eaten yogurt melts and the smell of baby wipes, you held onto each other. Because even if time was short, love wasn’t. And with every moment left, you planned to soak in every second, together.

The morning of your long-awaited comeback arrived sooner than you were emotionally ready for. It crept up through the quiet of dawn, with the soft light pouring in through the apartment windows and the buzz of the city waking up just beyond the glass. You stirred awake before your alarm even had the chance to go off, nerves already prickling beneath your skin. This was it, the day you’d return to the life you’d once lived so comfortably, before everything changed. Before Yejun.

You moved through your morning slowly, with care. There was something heavier about this day than any other. It wasn’t just your comeback, it was your first step back into the world as both an idol and a mother. That balance had seemed so distant and uncertain when you first held Yejun in your arms, but now here you were, standing at the edge of it.

Jeongin was already awake, moving around the apartment with practiced quiet, holding Yejun against his chest as he gently patted his back. You smiled softly at the sight, his sleepy face, his mussed hair, the way he looked down at Yejun like he was made of gold.

He turned toward you as you walked into the room, giving you a smile that was warm and proud and a little sad. “You look good,” he said, voice hushed as not to stir the still-drowsy baby in his arms.

You walked over to him, pressing a kiss to Yejun’s fuzzy head before leaning in to kiss Jeongin. It was soft and slow, full of unspoken words how proud you were of each other, how hard this was, how strong you’d both been.

Jeongin gently shifted Yejun’s hand, making him wave it toward you. “Say good luck, Mama,” he cooed, and your chest tightened.

You exhaled shakily, running a hand through your hair as you whispered, “I’ll be back before dinner.”

Jeongin nodded, even though his eyes said he didn’t want you to go. “We’ll be right here.”

With one last glance back at your boys, the ones who had become your entire world, you stepped out the door.

Back at the company, the moment you walked through those familiar halls, the atmosphere shifted. People turned to look, some surprised, others smiling, a few tearing up as they spotted you. It was like you’d never left, yet everything was different now. You were different. More grounded, more weathered, more… whole.

Jinhee was waiting for you near the main studio, her arms immediately wrapping around you in a tight hug. “You’re really here,” she whispered, her voice cracking just slightly.

“I’m here,” you said softly, holding her back. “For real this time.”

Jun and the rest of the staff were already gathered in the conference room, and when you stepped inside, they greeted you with genuine warmth. The energy was familiar, comfortable, but it didn’t erase the knot in your stomach.

Jun offered you a seat beside him and began going over the schedule, rehearsals, shoots, variety shows. It was a lot, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Not now. Not after everything you’d already been through.

“You sure you’re ready for this pace again?” one of the staff asked, concerned but not condescending.

You looked around the room at everyone who had supported you, some from a distance, others closely and you nodded. “I missed performing. I missed being with the girls. I think it’s time.”

Jun gave you a small nod of approval. “Then let’s make this comeback one to remember.”

And as you sat there, surrounded by the people who had once only seen you as a performer, now acknowledging all the different pieces of you the artist, the partner, the mother, you felt it. You were ready. Nervous, but ready. And in the back of your mind, you could already picture Yejun’s gummy smile waiting for you at the end of the day.

-

Your limbs ached, every muscle humming from exertion, but the familiar burn beneath your skin was something you hadn’t realized how much you missed. You were sprawled out on the cool floor of the practice room, cheeks flushed and breath still coming in soft pants. The other girls surrounded you in similar states, some laying down beside you, others sitting up, all of you basking in the rare moment of rest after your first full day back.

It had been long. A full day of rehearsals, catching up with the choreography, syncing with the others, adjusting to the pace that once had felt second nature to you. But now, it was different. And every beat, every turn, every breath reminded you of how much your body had changed and grown.

Still, through all the sweat and exhaustion, you felt proud.

Jinae nudged you with her foot from where she lay beside you, grinning. “You didn’t miss a beat.”

“Okay, well maybe one or two,” Minsu chimed in playfully, earning a soft laugh from everyone.

You smiled, heart warm. “It’s good to be back,” you said quietly, the truth of the words settling gently over your chest.

Just then, the door creaked open and in walked Jinhee, holding a bottle of water in each hand and wearing a proud smile. “Look at you all,” she said, handing one bottle to you and the other to Chae. “Like nothing’s changed.”

You sat up slowly, brushing some hair off your damp forehead. “Almost nothing,” you said with a small laugh.

Jinhee nodded. “It’s really good to see you here again,” she said sincerely. “I know it’s not easy coming back after everything… balancing everything.”

Before you could respond, Minsu beat you to it. “She fits right back in. Like she’s the missing piece to our puzzle.”

Your heart fluttered at that, and you offered Minsu a grateful look. “Thanks,” you said softly.

Jinhee let the moment settle before she cleared her throat lightly. “Actually… there’s something I wanted to ask.”

You turned to her with raised brows, the others sitting up more attentively too.

“The company’s planning something small, a little welcome back celebration,” she said. “Nothing big, no press, no cameras, just a private gathering. A way for the staff and everyone close to you to say congratulations, not just for returning, but for becoming a mom.”

Your lips parted in surprise, and Jinhee quickly added, “Totally your call, of course. But we thought maybe it’d be nice. If you’re okay with it… we’d love for you to bring Yejun. And Jeongin too.”

You blinked, the words settling into you slowly. A welcome back party. For you. For all of you.

The girls immediately lit up around you.

“Yejun at a party? Yes please,” Chae grinned.

“Finally, everyone gets to meet the little prince,” Jinae added, excitement twinkling in her eyes.

You felt yourself smile, warmth spreading through your chest at the thought. Yejun had been your quiet world for months, a secret you’d held close and dear. The thought of introducing him, really introducing him to the people who had become your second family felt… right. Special.

You looked at Jinhee, eyes soft. “Yeah,” you said after a pause. “I think… that would be really nice.”

She beamed, clearly relieved. “We’ll keep it intimate, promise. Just the people who matter.”

And suddenly, despite the exhaustion in your bones, despite the ache in your muscles and the overwhelmingness of this transition, you felt grounded.

-

The sun had just begun to set, casting a soft golden hue over the city as you made your way back home. The day had been long, your body aching from your first full schedule back with the group, but your heart raced with one singular thought: Yejun. All day long, his smile, his little giggles, the warmth of his tiny arms around your neck, those thoughts had kept you grounded through every choreography run, every vocal warm-up, every debriefing. And of course, there was Jeongin, too. But if you were being honest with yourself, your heart was set on one thing, finally holding your baby again.

As soon as you stepped through the front door, the familiar sound of little claps met your ears. You turned your head quickly to see Yejun in his playpen, his chubby hands slapping together in excitement the moment his eyes met yours. Your lips parted into the biggest smile as a soft laugh escaped your chest.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, emotion already swelling in your throat.

Jeongin appeared from the hallway just moments later, having heard the door open. He looked relieved, happy, and maybe a little tired too. Still, he reached you with a soft peck to your lips and effortlessly took the bag from your shoulder.

“Welcome home,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” you said quickly before making a beeline toward the playpen, already crouching down to scoop Yejun into your arms.

“Oh my god, I missed you,” you whispered, holding him close as he wrapped his small arms around your neck, squealing in delight. His tiny fingers grabbed at your cheeks, and he smiled so widely it made your heart swell.

Jeongin leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and gaze fond. “He noticed the door before I did,” he said with a chuckle.

You looked up from Yejun and asked, “How was today?”

Jeongin walked closer, gently brushing some hair behind your ear. “Started off rough. He got pretty fussy after you left. Wouldn’t nap, wanted to be held constantly. I think he missed you,” he said softly.

You gave Yejun a small bounce, smiling. “Did you miss me?” you cooed. Yejun reached for your face again, giving a soft hum and another wide smile.

“But,” Jeongin added, “once he finally fell asleep, he woke up in a much better mood. We had a good day. Played a lot.”

You kissed your son’s cheek a few times, earning giggles that melted your tiredness like butter on a hot pan. Only then did your eyes drift toward the dining table and you blinked in surprise.

“You cooked?” you asked, your tone full of pleasant shock.

Jeongin nodded like it was no big deal. “Yep. Just waiting for you to get home so we could eat together.”

You walked over slowly, Yejun still in your arms, and took in the spread: a mix of all your favorite comfort foods. You turned toward him again, touched. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he said simply.

He took Yejun from your arms and gently settled him into his high chair, buckling him in before sitting beside you. You both began eating, taking turns making sure Yejun was munching on his soft, steamed veggies and fruits. It was peaceful, domestic, normal. And in that moment, you felt whole.

Midway through your meal, you glanced up at Jeongin. “By the way… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He looked up, attentive. “Hmm?”

You poked at your rice. “The company’s throwing a little welcome-back thing for me. Nothing major, no press or cameras. Jinhee says it’s just close staff, team members… and they invited you and Yejun to come, too.”

Jeongin didn’t hesitate. “Of course we’ll go.”

You blinked, taken aback by how quickly he agreed. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted gently. “I would’ve gone even if there were cameras. I don’t want to hide anymore, not you, not Yejun. I know it’s complicated… but I’m proud of you. Of us. I want people to see that.”

His voice was steady, his eyes sure. There was no wavering in his conviction.

You lowered your gaze slightly, chewing on your bottom lip. “I’m just… not sure if I’m ready. Even if people are already speculating, it’s still different when it’s real, when it’s confirmed.”

He reached across the table and took your hand in his. “I get it. Really, I do. And I’ll never pressure you. But just know… whenever you are ready, I’ll be right there beside you.”

You looked up at him, heart full, and gave a small nod. “Okay,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

Yejun let out a soft squeal, smacking his little palms against his high chair tray, and both you and Jeongin turned to look at him, laughing. His cheeks were puffed with a piece of carrot he hadn’t swallowed yet, and his eyes darted between you both, so full of joy.

You leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead. “What do you think, baby? Should we show you off a little?”

He giggled, and you took it as a sign.

Even if it wasn’t tomorrow, even if the world wasn’t ready to accept it yet, you were getting closer. And you’d be ready, in your own time.

-

The morning of the welcome-back party felt different. There wasn’t the usual rush of early schedules or the sleepy shuffle of new parents just trying to survive the day. No, this morning was special. It was quiet, warm, filled with excitement and nerves. You and Jeongin were finally attending something as a family.

You both had gotten up a bit earlier than usual, taking your time between breakfast and morning snuggles with Yejun, easing into the day with quiet conversations and soft kisses. But once the clock started ticking closer to the afternoon, the calm faded into chaos.

Specifically, chaos over outfits.

“No, this one’s cuter,” you insisted, holding up a soft beige romper with tiny bear ears on the hood, smiling at the cozy, cuddly look of it.

Jeongin wrinkled his nose playfully. “It’s adorable, but this one’s cooler,” he said, lifting up a tiny button-up shirt with suspenders and matching little pants. “He’s gonna look like a baby model.”

You crossed your arms. “He’s a baby, not going to a photoshoot.”

Jeongin smirked. “Says you. The world deserves to see his fashion era begin now.”

You both stood there for a moment in your shared bedroom, each of you holding up your candidate outfit like you were presenting evidence in a court case. Yejun, sitting in the middle of the bed with a soft bib around his neck, watched the scene unfold like a tiny judge, babbling and kicking his legs, occasionally squealing when either of you turned to him.

“Fine,” you finally said, lifting your eyebrows. “Let’s let him pick.”

Jeongin’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Democratic parenting.”

You laid both outfits down on the bed in front of Yejun, who immediately reached for Jeongin’s pick, the tiny suspenders and button-up shirt, though mostly because it crinkled the loudest.

“See!” Jeongin said, grinning triumphantly. “My son has taste.”

You rolled your eyes, amused. “Okay, okay. But now we have to match him, not the other way around.”

“Already ahead of you,” he said, moving over to the closet and pulling out his own cream shirt and tan slacks. “I thought we could all wear warm tones. Like… subtle, matching without being cheesy.”

You blinked at him, a little caught off guard. “You thought about this?”

He turned and gave you a small smile. “Of course I did. I want us to look like we belong together.”

Your heart fluttered just a little at that. You didn’t say anything, just nodded quietly and went to pick your own soft-toned outfit to complete the trio.

As you finished getting ready, you gently changed Yejun into his chosen outfit. He wiggled and squirmed on the bed, letting out a giggle when you blew raspberries on his belly, tiny fists waving in the air. Jeongin leaned over as you snapped up his buttons, reaching for Yejun’s feet and giving them a playful tickle.

Yejun burst into another round of giggles, kicking his legs and clenching his little fists, his round cheeks flushed with joy. You both laughed along with him, caught in that quiet, golden moment where time seemed to slow and nothing else mattered.

“Okay,” you said softly, scooping Yejun up and placing a kiss on his forehead. “I think we’re ready.”

Jeongin stood next to you, slipping one arm around your waist as you balanced Yejun on your hip. He looked between the two of you, your matching tones, your smiles, the way your bodies leaned into one another without even trying and gave a small, content sigh.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

You were on your way to something new scary, maybe, and uncertain, but you were doing it together.

You hadn’t been nervous, not really. Not during the car ride, not while getting dressed, not even as Jeongin adjusted Yejun’s little bowtie for the fifth time before you left the apartment. Everything had felt calm, like just another moment in your new normal. But as soon as you stepped into the company building and stood just outside the glass doors of the office, your stomach twisted.

This was the first time you were appearing as not just an idol, not just a group member, but as you. As a woman who had quietly taken on the biggest change of her life and was now walking through those doors with everything out in the open.

You paused just before reaching for the handle.

Jeongin, who had Yejun in his arms bouncing him lightly, murmuring soft nonsense into his ear to keep him calm, glanced at you. He immediately noticed your hesitation. Without a word, he reached out and rested his hand on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing slow, reassuring circles.

You looked over at him. His face was soft, his smile calm and certain. Like there wasn’t a doubt in his mind about being here with you. About walking in like this. Like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

He leaned in just a bit. “Hey,” he whispered. “You’re doing amazing. And we’re right here with you.”

You nodded, lips trembling a little, before leaning in to kiss his cheek. Yejun let out a little coo at the motion, his big eyes looking between the two of you as if sensing this was a moment of some kind. You reached up to gently stroke his back, and then with a slow breath, you turned back to the door and pushed it open.

The moment you stepped inside, it was like a wave of warmth rushed to meet you.

“Welcome back!”

“There’s the little guy!” another voice chimed in as heads turned and a few people rushed forward, all beaming.

The small office space floor had been rearranged a bit for the casual celebration. A table in the corner had some snacks and drinks. Soft decorations hung loosely from the ceiling, in warm neutral colors, not flashy, just cozy. One sign in particular stood out, handwritten but neatly framed: Welcome Back.

You were still processing when Jinhee appeared through the crowd, eyes shining as she reached out to give you a hug. “I was hoping you’d really come,” she said softly.

“Of course,” you replied, your voice a little hoarse from emotion. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

People were already cooing over Yejun, who blinked at the new faces with curious eyes, resting comfortably in Jeongin’s arms. He gave a small squeal when one of the stylists gently waved at him, his cheeks puffed out in a gummy smile. Jeongin laughed under his breath, bouncing him a little.

You glanced around at everyone, the familiar faces of your team, your managers, a few other idols who had slipped in, and your girls who were already waving you over from the corner with teasing grins. For a second, it didn’t feel like a company party. It felt like family.

Like maybe… everything was going to be okay.

//

masterlist.

❌proofread

(a/n: didn’t realize that y/n’s group didn’t have a name til i was writing this part lol. I hope everyone likes the group name stardust. i literally wrote the first thing that came to mind. they’d probably have the typical girl crush concept 🙉🙈)

[fs taglist: @laine2353 @emilyywhyy @d3kstar @lenfilms @st4rv3lly @mbioooo0000 @puppymsworld @vangoghsear0 @vixensss @artist2181 @jazzissilly @jessxxxfwd @anastasiiiiaaaaa @nchhuhi @jae-n0 @beomgyusluver @bearseuming @maxidential @cristy-101 @kochothehoe @iristrrsgn ..]

[meowdei]

"Is it true, my lord?" you murmur softly against his chest. It's quiet, and you're bare, the both of you. The words are forced out like they're glued to your lips, so you pry them off, ripping off the skin in the process and leaving you bleeding.

Ayato is clever. Cunningly so, you think. Something about the way his lips quirk makes you think he's well aware of what you mean. Something about the way he raises his brows makes you know he's not going to make this easy for you.

"Is what true?" he asks smoothly. Too smooth. It's like he's been waiting for this question. He glances down at you as you fight the urge to hide against his sternum.

"There is word, my lord," you say carefully. "I'm certain you are better acquainted with the rumors than myself."

"Word of what, exactly? There are many rumors across Inazuma, you know."

Ayato is also infuriating. He always has been.

You think it's the way he's so easy to disappear. He's there one second, like pelting rain. Cold. Unbearably difficult to ignore. Lingering on your skin as it rises with goosebumps and brings a shiver down your spine. And then he's gone. The harsh droplets blended with the current and carried away downstream, slipping through the cracks of your fingers like he was never meant to fit between them in the first place.

Ayato was never meant to fit against you in the first place. He does an impeccably cruel job of making you believe it's possible that he could, sometimes, though. You wonder if that's the irony of his vision—what justice is there to how he rips your heart from your chest, inspecting it closely in awe for just a moment before tossing it to your feet in indifference?

Surely, the god of Hydro does not recognize such sadism, let alone reward it. Surely, there is some form of injustice to how he toys with your feelings.

Patience is your strong suit. It has to be when loving Ayato—it has to be especially when you love him from his shadow. He faces the sun, just as any head of a clan should. You linger in the space behind, devoid of light—and, for a moment, you wonder if that's why he likes to keep you around.

Everyone who faces the light needs a shadow.

"If you wish to be coy," you say bitterly, "then allow me to be plain. There is word that the Kamisato clan seeks the betrothal of their head. Forgive me for seeking confirmation directly from the source himself."

"Ah," he drawls, so sickeningly sweet in that voice of his. You love him. You always have. You have never hated that truth more. "Yes, it is. It seems the elders believe I will be well past my prime should I wait any longer."

"And what do you believe, my lord?"

"That it is my duty to fulfill the wishes of my elders."

Your heart sinks. You already knew it would—made room for it so it wouldn't destroy any more of yourself in its path, even. You expected it to hit that place at the bottom of your guts that makes you feel nauseous and numb all at once. It was only a matter of time, of course—you're not naive enough to believe he could be yours like this forever.

You always liked to daydream, though. A day where Ayato and you faced the sun together, no longer hidden in the shadow of the moon under his sheets. No longer quiet in your affairs like they're disgustingly wrong. Maybe you are naive, though—maybe such a daydream is only proof your mind is painfully self-indulgent to the point of doom.

"Do you eye someone in particular?" you force yourself to ask. You're not sure why. Maybe masochism makes it easy to breathe when it's your heart that's bleeding and not your lungs.

"I do," he confirms. Cruel, you think—so cruel is the Yashiro Commissioner to keep you close, fighting against space itself to have your body close by night and give into its wickedness during the day. And so wicked, heartless, and brutal is space—you hate it more and more every day.

"You should not bed someone when dreaming of being betrothed, Ayato," you bite. The words are laced with venom, tasting acrid on your tongue as they flow past your bleeding lips.

"On the contrary, my dear," he hums, pulling you tighter, closer. Fighting against space just as he always does—winning so easily, you wonder if space has ever tried in the first place. "Who else should I bed if not my betrothed?"

You blanch. Something stirs in your heart—you force it down and scold yourself for having the audacity to hope. Hope is not for you. Not for someone so plain. So mundane. So outside the realm of nobility.

You swallow thickly and croak, "You should be kinder, Ayato. Such cold games are hardly befitting of a husband."

"Is that so? Then I will do my best," he murmurs. His lips find yours, pressing a delicate enough kiss against them that it feels as though the rough, raw skin mends instantly. "Rest assured your husband shall be as kind as you need, my dear."

Your eyes widen. Something in you nags in a breathlessly hopeful voice—divinity is never wrong. The god of Hydro is not mistaken. Justice is the love that seeps into your broken heart from the man who tore it in the first place, patching it together better than it ever was to begin with.

[solxamber]

HELLO!! Hi!! My goodness I really hope I'm not too late!! I really love your works and had been way too busy these days to scroll on here like usual. Seeing that you have a holiday event had caught my eye and the whole thing makes it so cute!! I was hoping maybe you could do Heartslabyul, 7, Fluff or pomefiore, 4, comedy!! Happy Holidays and thank you so much for working hard with these events!! ❄️🤍

thank you so much! Happy holidays <3

(I'll take any opportunity to write for my wife :) I'm also running out of title ideas someone send help)

Perfectly Reasonable Reaction || Vil Schoenheit

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "I'm NOT jealous" ; Genre: Comedy

It was just another day of being the prefect/unofficial errand-runner/problem-fixer/therapist at NRC.

This time, you were helping a nervous first-year untangle a charm spell gone wrong. With zero magic to your name, this mostly involved you holding the instructions and squinting at the text like it was written in ancient runes (which, frankly, it might as well have been).

“Okay,” you said, pointing at the paper. “Try… flicking your wrist, but like… less aggressively. Right now, it looks like you’re swatting a fly that insulted your mother.”

The freshman nodded frantically, his hands trembling as he adjusted his stance. You smiled encouragingly, even as you silently prayed he wouldn’t accidentally explode the lounge.

Across the room, Vil was perched on one of the elegant sofas, sipping tea with the precision of a king. And by “sipping tea,” you mean glaring daggers at the poor first-year while trying to look aloof.

“Roi du Poison,” Rook whispered dramatically from beside him, his eyes sparkling. “Your expression is most tempestuous today. Could it be the fires of jealousy I see in your eyes?”

Vil didn’t even dignify that with a response. He simply crossed his legs, radiating judgment.

“I’m not jealous,” Vil said eventually, setting down his tea with the kind of grace that would make royalty weep. “I’m merely concerned for my significant other’s safety. The freshman looks like he might combust at any second.”

“Oh, naturally,” Rook replied, clearly trying not to laugh.

You, oblivious to the brewing storm behind you, clapped as the first-year finally managed the spell without disaster. “See? You got it! You’re a natural.”

The freshman looked like he might cry with gratitude before scampering off, leaving you to clean up the scattered papers.

Which is when Vil swooped in like a bird of prey spotting its target.

“Darling,” he said smoothly, already taking the papers from your hands.

You blinked up at him. “Vil? What’re you—”

“You’ve been standing far too long. Sit.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sit,” he repeated, and before you could argue, he placed both hands on your shoulders and gently pushed you into the nearest chair.

“Uh… okay?”

Then, without warning, he sat on your lap.

Your brain stalled. “Vil. What.”

“I see this as a necessary course of action,” he said loftily, adjusting his position until he was comfortably settled.

“...For what?”

“For ensuring that everyone here understands you’re unavailable.” His arms looped around your neck, his tone casual, but his eyes daring anyone to approach.

“I was helping a freshman,” you said, biting back a laugh.

“Yes, well, he seemed very comfortable with your assistance,” Vil replied, sniffing imperiously.

“He looked like he wanted to die,” you pointed out.

“I’m not jealous,” Vil declared immediately, his pout saying otherwise.

“Oh, obviously,” you deadpanned. “You’re just… asserting dominance by turning my lap into a throne.”

“Exactly,” he said, completely missing your sarcasm.

You couldn’t help it anymore—you burst out laughing, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Vil, you’re ridiculous. I love you, but this? This is a lot.”

His cheeks pinked, but he didn’t move. “If it ensures people don’t get too close, then it’s worth it.”

You grinned, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Well, Mr. Not Jealous, you’re cute when you’re clingy.”

His face went a shade darker, but he still didn’t budge. Instead, he sighed dramatically, resting his head on your shoulder. “Be that as it may, you should be more cautious. You’re magicless, and people will take advantage of that.”

“Yeah, because freshmen with shaky hands are definitely my greatest threat,” you teased.

“Watch it,” he warned, but his voice was fond.

Behind him, Rook was positively vibrating with delight, a camera in his hand. “Ah, what a beautiful scene! The protective Vil, shielding his beloved with the ultimate act of affection—shared proximity!”

You and Vil turned to glare at him, but Vil’s arms stayed firmly around you.

“Remind me to confiscate that later,” you muttered.

Vil’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “As you wish, darling.”

And so, you sat there, Vil refusing to move from your lap, your legs starting to go numb, and the entire lounge buzzing with gossip. But hey—at least you weren’t helping any more freshmen.

Masterlist

[it-was-summer]

Buy Me Presents, Baby

A/N: Minors; DNI. I DONT CAREEE I WANT HIM!! Anyways, this may or may not be based on true events in my life. If you're reading this also know that I wrote this Christmas Eve and it is now 5am on Christmas Day, the powerhouse of lust. Hope you guys like this because I DID NOT proofread this AT ALL!! I mention the pill (oral contraception), so sorry if this is an issue, I'm just a girl. I KNOW there is a typo in here... i know it. Merry Christmas!! My gift is porn!!- Love you, Em

edit- the typo was fully in the title… go to bed at a reasonable time kids.

Link to the Ao3: Buy Me Presents, Baby Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Woof uhh okay! newly established relationship, Christmas sex, Spanking, Creampie, PnV sex, Reader gets called girl.. I apologize, Oral contraceptives are mentioned at the end, lingerie, that one bow lingerie... yall know which on I'm talking about?, That ONE!! WITH THE BOW YES!!, I had to use the word pussy.. IM SORRT IM NOT HAPPY ABOUT It, dirty talk, cock this cock that, not proofread, merry christmas.

Genre: Porn, no plot. Some fluff? Pairing: Established relationship!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: You and Spencer exchange gifts for Christmas, and one of your gifts happens to be a little physical.

Word Count: 3,669

Spencer doesn’t know what’s gotten into you. 

Though the longer he thinks about it, he should have seen the signs of your recent… restlessness. Being in the BAU came with its challenges, and one of these challenges was— of course— being away from home. Usually, the two of you would find a special time that worked for both of you to meet up and spend some well-deserved time together. 

Lately, it has felt like the world was against you, though. Every time you had free time, he’d plan a date night with you, only for him to be called away on a case. The one time you planned a date, you came down with a cold. The cycle kept repeating in a million different annoying ways. 

The cherry on top? It was almost Christmas. It's nearly Christmas, and neither of you has seen each other for a good three weeks— it’s miserable. 

So imagine his excitement when his phone doesn’t ring early Saturday morning. When he steps out of his shower, he checks it again— nothing. He’s beaming when he calls you, your sleepy voice answering him before he says, “Dinner tonight?” 

There’s a pause, followed by some rustling, “You’re free?” 

“Mhm,” He hums with a grin, grabbing his glasses from the case and placing them gracefully on his face. 

He can hear the excitement in your voice. " You want to exchange presents?” He remembers the playful tone in your voice when you said it, but at the time, he thought nothing of it. He chuckles softly before agreeing, saying a sweet goodbye, and hanging up the phone. 

Dinner begins and ends at your place, decorated in lights and festive trinkets, and presents wrapped neatly under the fake tree in the corner of your living room. The gift exchange went smoothly; you got Spencer some reading essentials, followed by a special edition of one of his favorite books. Spencer, in turn, had bought you a pair of earrings you pointed out back in November and a framed copy of your favorite painting.

It was getting late now, with a warm cup of tea in his hands, you turned and whispered in a playful voice, “I still have one more gift for you.” 

His eyebrows raised at that, bending his head to look at you as you sat with your back pressed against his chest, “More? After the special edition Tolstoy?” 

“More. I was saving it for the twenty-fifth, but…” You trail off, your eyes leaving his as you glance toward your bedroom. “I could go get it ready now?” 

Spencer smiles, thinking about it momentarily before he decides that he might not be home for Christmas. He mutters a soft “Yeah, okay.” 

You stand up quickly, an excited look in your eyes when you tell him, “Okay, stay here!” And then you’re gone. 

Spencer’s watching your bedroom door close with a faint smile. He stretches as he waits, his tea finished, when he hears you call out for him, “You can come in now!” 

He stepped into your room with nothing but good intentions, that is, until he saw you lying on your bed in lingerie. Maroon satin material lays smooth against your skin, and the shape of a tantalizing bow teases him at the center of your chest and your underwear— barely there. 

He clears his throat in a vain attempt to appear calm and collected, though he’s sure you can see his blushing cheeks and growing arousal. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words die in the back of his throat when you sit up on your elbows, pushing your breast out toward him a little more with an innocent tilt of your head. “You don’t like it?” 

His voice cracks when he says, “No! I mean— that is to say, I do like it! I mean, I’m sure you can see how much I–” He nervously adjusts his sweater, shaky hands pulling at the collar. 

You let out a soft hum, relaxing a little. " Are you going to stand by the door the whole time, or?” You tease him with a low laugh. 

He quickly walks closer, shaking his head as he gets closer to the edge of the bed. The bed dips as he climbs onto the edge of the bed. He watches as you roll on your side to adjust for him, waiting until he is lying beside you before you whisper, “If you don’t want to, it’s okay–” 

“I do! I do. It’s just we’ve only–” He motions between the two of you slowly, replacing the word. “A few times, and I wasn’t expecting,” His eyes trail down to your chest, his fingers twitching– itching to feel the material against his palm.  

When he looks back into your eyes, you smile at him with a little sigh, “I know. I just saw it, and I thought of you.” 

Spencer feels like his entire body is on fire when you say that. His pants become increasingly uncomfortable as he croaks softly, “That made you think of me?” 

You hum a sweet-sounding “Mhm,” you lick your lips, “Cognitive association, right?” 

Spencer thinks you’ll break him with the way you’re talking to him; your voice is low and quiet, clearly amused. He holds back a sound when he feels your hand take his and guide it to your barely clothed hip. For some reason, he wants to spew some facts about cognitive association, but in a rare moment, his mind goes blank. 

His mind slows, and the only thing he can process is the feeling of satin material against your body. He drags his hand along your side, higher and higher, until his fingers trace the bra’s underwire. His eyes flicker over to yours as he leans in, pressing a slow kiss to your lips. 

Kissing Spencer always starts soft, tender, and languid. It then slowly devolves into something passionate, heated, rough– something you adore. And you’re starting to feel the shift in this kiss, his tongue slightly grazing your bottom lip– a silent plea you happily fulfill, parting your lips to let his tongue tentatively enter the kiss. 

You’re smiling into the kiss, shifting with him so you’re under him before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him deeper into the kiss. Spencer lets out a tiny sound of surprise against your lips at the rough movement, and he pulls away slightly, his lips barely touching yours when he says, “So aggressive,” His tone teasing as he captures your lips in another giddy kiss. 

With your eyes closed and mouth occupied, your hands get to work. Blindly, you pull the bottom of his sweater, your lips only leaving his to help him pull the piece of clothing off his body. He’s eager to get his lips back on yours, his tongue resuming its work against yours, a kiss that makes your head spin and thoughts go hazy with how intense it feels. 

You move your legs up and around his hips, pushing his hips down to yours with ease. Spencer whines into the kiss, his lips moving slowly against yours until he pulls away to kiss your jawline. His hips grind down onto yours, your breath hitching at the feeling. 

Feeling his hardness through his pants makes you realize just how badly you need him, and it seems it does the same for him. His lips latch onto the lower side of your neck, sucking and licking softly at the sensitive area as his hips grind against yours harder. 

The feeling makes your core squeeze around nothing; the new desire to get something, anything, inside you plants a seed in your lower abdomen. You feel shamefully needy as Spencer continues leaving light red and purple marks on the sensitive skin of your neck, his breathing heavy as he decorates you with marks. 

You’re surprised to see that he’s actually moving lower, his markings getting closer to your collarbone when he pulls away, looking up at you with those lust-filled honey eyes, “May I?” The tips of his fingers tug lightly at the satin red bow covering your breasts. 

Your legs leave his hips as he pulls the bow apart with a simple flick of his wrist. His eyes stay trained on your breast as he takes one into his hand and gently rubs at your nipple, eliciting a soft, quiet moan from you, “So pretty,” Then he dips his head lower to bring your left nipple into his mouth, licking at the sensitive bud with precision. 

A sound— embarrassingly loud— escapes your lips at the feeling, your body squirming against his. You’re sure you can feel him smiling against your breast, his right hand moving to your right nipple, pinching it lightly. 

Your fingers latch onto his hair, gently running them through his hair and occasionally pulling when his tongue does something particularly amazing against the bud of your nipple. You can feel electric arousal coursing through you, soft moans and sighs leaving you with every touch. 

However, he’s pulling his lips away from your breast soon after, his cheeks red as he mutters a low, “Need to make sure you cum,” And you find yourself nodding in agreement as his hands leave your breast, pulling the lingerie’s satin thong to the side as he swipes two fingers along your entrance. 

You let out a little sigh, feeling incredibly needy as his fingers brush against your clit teasingly. “Did dressing up like this make you this wet, or did I?” He asks, his fingers curiously leading back down to your entrance. 

Shifting under him, you let out a breathless chuckle, “A bit of both,” 

He grins at that, his head now to the side of yours, his thumb pressing against your clit slowly as he slides a finger inside you. You tense for a second with pleasure before relaxing as the feelings, his finger gently curling inside of you as his thumb presses down harder on your swollen bundle of nerves. “You’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks, haven’t you?” 

His voice against your ear isn’t something you expect, but you aren’t surprised for long as he slides a second finger into you— your thoughts turning to mush, “Yes,” You whisper, your back arching slightly at his fingers move faster inside you, curling and pleasing you at a medium pace. 

Spencer lets out a low hum, his eyes watching you as you get lost in pleasure, his thumb pressing against your clit a little harder as he finds that sweet little spot inside of you. He can feel the way your walls tighten around his fingers, and he’s envious of his own hand, wishing it was his cock instead. 

Your moans only add to personal envy, his fingers moving and caressing your G-spot with greater precision. He tries not to groan, watching you arch your back off the bed. A cry followed by a string of heightened gasps from you has him wholly enraptured. 

When his fingers start to get rough inside you, you’re already seeing stars, your left hand reaching over to grab onto Spencer’s bicep at the feelings, fingers gently digging into his skin as your body shakes. “Love watching you get close,” Spencer groans softly against your ear. 

His lips slowly resume their markings on your neck, and the added stimulation sends you falling over the edge with a loud cry of pleasure. Your body shakes against him, and your high-pitched moans, accompanied by heavy panting, have pride swelling in his chest as his fingers help you ride out your orgasm. 

His fingers only stop when your body goes slack, his lips leaving your neck to gently kiss at your lips— a gesture you return lazily. The feeling of his fingers leaving you has you feeling empty, but you’re quickly distracted as Spencer drags his soaked fingers to his lips. Your eyes widen for a second as you watch your boyfriend lick off every bit of you on them, “Let me get a taste,” Your voice is soft as Spencer leans in, kissing you fast and rough. Your tongue drags along his to get a second-hand taste of yourself in his mouth. 

You’re quick to pull away, your hands hooking into the belt loop of his pants, gently yanking at the loop. Spencer laughs at the feeling, and he looks into your eyes with a shameful look— lustful and pleading. You know how badly he wants to dive straight in, but his determination to make you cum too many times to count usually gets in the way of his cock. 

“Haven’t seen you in three weeks. You can make it up to me later.” You joke softly, your fingers undoing the top button with ease. 

Spencer grins as he slides his pants down his legs, kicking them off. He finds himself blushing at how your eyes shamefully stare at the outline of his cock in his boxers, precum already wetting some of the fabric. He finds himself doing the same with you, though, his eyes taking in the undone ribbon of the lingerie at your sides, the way your legs are parted to give him a delicious view of your dripping sensitive folds. 

Your fingers slip into the waistband of his boxers, gently tracing his cock with your fingers, a soft, pleasured sigh leaving his lips at the feeling. “So hard,” You mutter, leaning up to kiss a part of Spencer’s jaw. 

Spencer lets out a low hum of agreement. Being as busy as he has been, he hasn’t found time for any kind of sexual release as of late. “It’s been a little while since I’ve–” 

“That’s okay,” You sigh sensually, your hands wrapping around his dick slowly, “Take off your boxers.” 

Spencer’s more than happy to comply, hurriedly discarding his boxers at your request. He watches as you pull your hand off him to take off your underwear, and Spencer squeaks out a nervous, “Leave it on?” 

Grinning, you nod, your fingers pushing the thong back to the side of him. He groans at the action, looming over you now, his hands on either side of you. “Flip over,” 

A jolt of excitement runs through you at the request, quickly flipping over on your stomach for him. A pleased sound leaves your lips as his hand moves to pull your hips up, forcing your back to arch for him. He slides his thumb and index inside the sting on your thong as he slowly rubs his cock in between your folds– the head of his cock gently kissing your clit. 

The worst part about being in an established relationship and having just started having sex with your partner is the anxiety that follows you after you say something risky. Your lips part nonetheless, your hips pushing back against him quickly, “That’s right, get that cock wet with my pussy.” 

You were never dull during sex, but Spencer was not expecting something so vulgar to fall from your lips. His hips stutter against yours before he finds himself incredibly turned on by the sudden confidence and vulgarity in your words. His hands yank your hips back roughly, lining himself up to inch himself inside of you slowly. 

About halfway inside you, he pulls out till it is just the tip and then repeats the motion— it’s infuriatingly hot. You let out a soft whine at his toying with you and start to move your hips back against him, but that is met with a surprising spank to your ass. 

A sharp gasp leaves your lips at the feelings before you blink, lifting your head to peer at him over your shoulder and whisper a little, “Harder,” 

Seeing your half-lidded eyes looking over at him, your soft lips begging him to spank you harder, Spencer feels a shiver shoot down his spine. He’s sure he can feel himself grow harder as he pushes deeper into your pussy and delivers a solid smack to your ass with the flat of his palm. 

He then follows the motion with a comforting rub of his hand against the swell of your ass. For a second, he’s worried about hurting you or making you uncomfortable–  unexplored territory. The feeling of your walls tightening around him for a second, fluttering in a way that has him bottoming out inside you without hesitation, reassures him. 

“God,” He huffs as he sets a pace, his hand occasionally delivering a hard spank to your ass whenever he feels your hips moving with his. You feel terrific; the feel of your reddening ass under his hand, the soft skin of your hip in his other, he’s surprised that he isn’t drooling. 

You, however, are starting to feel yourself beginning to drool. Moans and groans coming from the two of you has your head spinning, the rough feeling of Spencer’s hips against yours making your legs feel weak. 

Spencer pulls all the way out as he feels himself getting close, his soaked cock resting against your ass– the sight is something has him letting out a shaky sigh. He doesn’t need to say anything before you’re flipping over on your back again, legs spread and lips wet as you mutter a needy sounding, “More.” 

Spencer can’t find it in himself to deny you or himself, moving closer to you and lining himself up with your entrance again. As he sinks into you, you move your legs up, your hands holding the back of your knee. The new position lets him sink in deeper, and Spencer’s sure you’re an angel. 

You’re practically sucking him in, his breathing getting heavier as he moves against you, His eyes dipping between your face and between your legs– intelligent eyes watching the way his cock disappears deep inside of you. “You take it so well.” 

His hands reach up slowly, tracing the back of your thighs before replacing your hands at the back of your knee, bending your legs back further. He places a chaste kiss on your forehead, the gentle gesture leaving your head reeling when accompanied by this immense pleasure. 

You gasp out at the slight burn of your thighs, toes curling slightly, when Spencer starts to roll his hips in fast, tight circles. The roll of his hips makes his cock hit your G-spot, your eyes rolling back at the feeling as a guttural-sounding groan joins the lewd sounds leaving your lips. 

Spencer takes that as his sign to snap his hips into yours, his forehead pressing against yours as he moans and whines. “You feel so fucking good. I’ll never leave again.” 

You can feel your lower abdomen tighten quickly at the rough movements. A shaky laugh leaves you at his mention of never leaving, but words fail you as you cry out. The past few times the two of you have had sex, he was never this rough. You aren’t complaining, but his frantic, rapid thrusts are leaving you with the feeling that you’ll beg for a repeat sometime in the future. 

A long whine leaves you as you feel yourself getting closer, your hands holding tight on Spencer’s shoulders, your body jolting slightly with his rough thrusts. “So good! You’re fucking me so good. Please, don’t stop.” You beg without shame, “Need to cum, make me cum again.” You beg through moans. 

Spencer almost cums inside you upon hearing your begging, but he holds off— a new mission in focus. He slows for a second, moving one of your hands off his shoulder and under your knee before he slides his hand down to your aching clit. His thumb makes quick, tight, hard circles without warning— the scream that leaves your chest has him worried for your neighbors. 

“That’s it, tighten around me like that.” He pants out from above you, his eyes locking onto yours as he speaks. He watches the way your eyebrows raise in pleasure, and your mouth starts to let out a mix of silent screams and loud groans. “You look pretty when you cum around my cock, my pretty girl.” 

Your legs are shaking with that, the coil in your abdomen snapping with force as you bite your bottom lip to try and silence the sound of your orgasm– a groan that almost sounds inhuman. Spencer’s quick to follow, his hips roughly snapping into yours with his thumb continuing its torment on your sensitive clit. 

The feeling of overstimulation has you letting out a weak-sounding whine, almost a sob. You’re gasping hard as he keeps going, frenzied thrusts that have your free hand gripping the sheet tight until he bottoms out in you with a shaking groan. His hips thrust into you a few more times as he empties himself into you, shaking hard. 

A moment passes with neither of you moving, your legs moving down to the bed, and the realization sets in. Spencer looks at you with wild eyes, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking–” 

You laughed weakly and held up a hand, “Spencer, it’s okay.” Your voice sounds a little raw as you relax into your bed slightly, with him still hovering over you. “I’m on the pill, remember?” 

“Well, when taken correctly, it’s 99% effective, but if you’ve forgotten a day lately, it’s only 93%.” He pouts lightly when a giggle leaves your lips, but he smiles against his better judgment. “I’m serious, what if…” 

“I doubt it will, but if it does come to that, we’ll deal with it.” You mutter, slowly reaching a hand up to rake your fingers through his messy brown hair. “Clean me up?” 

Spencer notes how your voice sounds: shy and a little desperate. He tilts his head, a playful smile on his face as his eyes trail down to your parted thighs, “Insatiable this evening, I see,” He jokes as he begins to lower himself, soft fingers rubbing against your inner thighs.  

You groan in faux annoyance before you feel his breath fanning against your inner thighs, “Merry Christmas,” You tease softly.

[littlewriters-posts]

Little Lady - Damon Salvatore x female!reader

Plot: Elena's childhood friend comes to Mystic Falls after her mother ships her off there. They think you're human, until they find out you're not

Warnings: Swearing maybe?

"I'm sorry, who?" Stefan asked with a frown "And why can't they stay with you?"

Elena sighed. Her childhood best friend was moving to Mystic Falls for a year, or was supposed too. The house you were supposed to be staying in had not passed inspection, so was being renovated, which had then been delayed by a year.

"Y/N," Elena said, as if she were speaking to a nine year old "She was my best friend back in elementary, then she was shipped off to England. But her mother is bringing them back here for the year,"

"Why?" Frowned Damon, ever suspicious "And why does she have to live here?"

Elena rounded on him, hands on hips "Because she has already enrolled in school here, and Jenna hasn't got any more room in the house - plus you have like a thousand bedrooms!"

Stefan sighed "Elena, you said she does not even know about the supernatural, you're asking us to keep it a secret in our own home?"

Elena nodded "She'll be with me most of the time, it's really just somewhere to sleep and put stuff,"

Damon scoffed, and Elena frowned at him.

"You are not allowed anywhere near her," she instructed, and his eyebrows raised.

"In my own home?" he asked and Elena rolled her eyes.

Stefan sighed "Alright, when is she supposed to be arriving?"

Suddenly a knock on the door sounded, and Elena bit her lip. Stefan stared at her for a moment, a dawning realisation on his face.

"You didn't," he stated, a disappointed look on his face.

"I couldn't have you saying no!" Elena whined, skipping over to answer the door.

As it opened, both Damon and Stefan stared at you, as if sizing you up for a fight.

You, standing there with two suitcases and a shoulder bag, gave them a large smile, before dropping everything to hug your best friend.

"Elena!" You gasped as she squeezed you "You haven't changed a bit," you teased.

Elena rolled her eyes "And you haven't grown a bit," she shot back and you laughed, before looking up at the taller individuals behind your old friend.

"I'm y/n, it's so nice to meet you," you smile "And thankyou so much for letting me stay here, I won't get in the way I promise,"

Stefan was the first to break, welcoming you in and grabbing both your suitcases. "It's lovely to have you, welcome to the Salvatore home," he said smoothy and you snorted.

"You must be Stefan," you said "Elena said you were sweet - and you must be Damon,"

Damon looked you up and down shamelessly, before offering a wink "Why because I'm the handsome one?" he asked.

Your smile widened "No, because you're the arrogant one,"

"Leave us alone Damon, come on Y/N, I'll show you to your room," Elena said with a smile, grabbing your hand as she showed you where to go. Stefan followed behind, a slight smile on his face.

"This is your room," Elena said "I tried to pick the room as far away to Damon as possible," she added.

You laughed, marvelling at the room slightly "It's beautiful, thankyou so much again," you said, giving a nod to Stefan.

"I'll be downstairs if you need me, just give us a shout," he said as he exited the room.

Elena looked at you excitedly "Come on, you've still got to see Bon-Bon and Caroline,"

The next couple of weeks went rather smoothly, and you had quickly fallen into a routine. You had frowned about how little the boys you lived with ate, (unknowing to why) so had taken it upon yourself to make them both breakfast each morning - which neither of them objected to. You'd then be picked up by Elena, and wouldn't see either of the boys until dinner time, when you would often cook dinner as well.

You saw Stefan quite a lot, since he was dating Elena, but the pair actively tried to keep you away from Damon, something that hadn't gone unnoticed by the pair of you.

Damon had decided he didn't hate you, and he liked you enough not to kill you. You were sweet, in his eyes, and there was something about the way you'd check up on him that made his heart skip just a little bit.

He was sat on the couch that evening, enjoying the peace and quiet without his brother Stefan, when you walked in.

"You eaten honey?" you ask, resting your head on the doorframe.

Damon looked up at you in faint surprise. You'd only ever made food for all three of them, but that may have been because he'd never been alone with you.

"I thought you were with Matt," he said carelessly, flipping through the pages in his book.

You shrug "He bailed, so I stayed in," you say nonchalantly "Now, have you eaten?"

Damon shook his head.

You smile at him slightly, a reassuring smile that he had learnt to mean you would take care of everything. It was comforting, and a difference to be cared about in this way.

"Don't worry, I'll fix you up something - you want burgers or steak?" you ask, calling back as you head into the kitchen.

Damon closed his book, opting to follow you. He didn't know much about you, since every time he spoke to you either Stefan or Elena would find a way to whisk you away.

"Steak," he said.

You jumped slightly, not realising he was now in the kitchen with you.

"Sure," you said sweetly, getting all the ingredients from the cupboard.

"So what brought you to mystic falls little lady?" Damon asked, sitting on the counter top.

You shrug "I don't actually know - my mother said she had a project here, but she's staying in a hotel till the house gets fixed,"

Damon nodded "You liking it so far?"

You pause for a moment, flipping the steak. "The people are lovely," you decided "Though there isn't much to do,"

Damon snorted, and you glanced at him. You hadn't spoken too him much, and were dying to find out why Elena didn't like him.

"What did you do?" you ask. Damon's eyebrow's raised.

"When?" he asked cheekily, a smirk forming on his face "Or who?"

"To make Elena hate you," you say matter of factly "I don't suppose you noticed that she doesn't like to leave me alone with you,"

Damon's smirk widened, the idea of telling you the truth was compelling, just to annoy his brother. But you knowing the truth would put you in danger, and for a reason he couldn't quite place, he didn't want that to happen.

"I'm a notorious womanizer," he drawled lazily.

You snort "Well you ain't got no chance here honey, let me tell you that right now,"

You hand him the plated up steak and fries and he thanks you, heading off into the living room. You look at his retreating figure, a slight smile on your face.

He didn't seem so bad.

Damon didn't know why, but he found himself actively seeking conversation's with you. You were funny, and sweet, and you made him feel human again. Unbeknownst to him, you also enjoyed the little conversations that he would sneak in for, it felt dangerous, and something about that felt so thrilling.

"You seem happier," Stefan commented, eyeing his brother across the table.

"Do I?" Damon asked, unsure of what his brother was implying.

"And to think you didn't want a house guest," Stefan snorted, and his brother glared at him.

"I don't know what you are implying Stefan," he said with a mocking tone, flicking through his book carelessly.

Stefan shrugged "Elena won't let you have her you know, that girl is one of her best friends, and she doesn't like you,"

"Who doesn't like who?" You ask, walking into the room. You were yawning, yet dressed up in a short skirt and heels.

"You sure you're not too tired to go out little lady?" Damon asked teasingly, and you scowled at him.

"Yes," you said defiantly, before frowning at yourself "No?" you then questioned, too tired to know which answer meant going against him.

Stefan snorted, "Come on, Elena's outside," he said, quickly ushering you to the door.

You sighed, knowing full well you were not about to enjoy whatever mayhem Elena was about to throw at you. As much as you adored her, she simply did not understand the word 'introvert'.

You watched Stefan's retreating figure as you glanced back at him. Part of you did want to stay home, and just relax, but the other part was excited to go out with all the people you'd met.

You opened the door, and were greeted with a blonde girl, and a taller more ginger man.

"Oh - hello," you said, blinking up at them in surprise "You friend's of Damon's I take it?"

The man looked down at you, a amused smirk on his face "And who might you be?"

"y/n, I'm Elena's friend. Just moved here a few weeks ago," you say cheerily, swinging your purse over you back "I'd love to stay and chat, but Elena's basically kidnapping me for this party,"

The blonde scoffed.

"Excuse me?" you asked, gesturing for them to move "You can come in if you like, they're just in the living room,"

The man and woman smiled widely, realising that you had absolute no clue who, or what, they were.

"Well thankyou darling," The man drawled, sending you a charming smile "Enjoy your party,"

As you walked past them, you turned, a smile on your face "Sorry, I never got your names?" you ask innocently.

"Klaus," the man replied "And my sister, Rebeka,"

You nodded, "It's nice to meet you," you said, before skipping off to where Elena was waiting for you.

She was dressed in a cute top and miniskirt, and gave a big smile when she saw you. Next to her was Caroline's car, with the two other girls sat in the front seats.

"What took you so long?" she asked teasingly. You rolled your eyes at her,

"These guys wanted to see Damon and Stefan," you said nonchalantly. Elena froze.

"What guys?" she asked nervously, and Bonnie slowly got out the car.

You, utterly oblivious, shrugged "I don't know, they said their names were Rebeka and Klaus," you said, pulling at the handle of the car door.

Elena gripped your wrist "Did you invite them in?" she asked seriously, looking at you dead in the eye.

You suddenly became very nervous, having never seen that fearful look in Elena's eyes. "Er...maybe?" you said smally "I thought they were friends of Damon's!"

"Shit," Caroline said, biting her lip, before looking at her two other friends.

"We gotta go back for them," Elena said, glancing over to where the Salvatore house sat, just a little walk away

"Wait, who were these people?" you asked, looking at your friends for an explanation. They all glanced between each other before nodding in a silent agreement.

"They'll be fine," Caroline said "They can handle themselves,"

But even an you arrived at the party, and Tyler greeted you with a sloppy kiss on the cheek, you couldn't shake the gnawing feeling in your stomach.

So you text damon.

Hey, you okay?

In hindsight, you thought texting Stefan would probably have been best, but Damon always seemed to answer your texts. Maybe you should text Stefan - but what if those people saw it, they would know you were onto them

For good measure you texted Stefan too,

Can you come pick me up, I don't feel well

You bit your lip, checking your watch as the minutes ticked by. Still no sign of them, or call, or text.

Maybe they were asleep?

And who were those people? Were they robbers? Elena had said that there had been a lot of robberies in the area, she'd told you that when she put a lock on your window.

Or maybe it had been gang members. Bonnie had told you there were many that roamed Mystic Falls at night, and that's why you should never be left alone.

But you were alone.

You hadn't even noticed the other girls leave, you hadn't really noticed how you got to the garden, your thoughts too preoccupied with the Salvatore brothers.

"Fuck it," you said.

You kicked off your heels, if they were some sort of gang members, you at least wanted to be able to run away properly, and started the walk back.

It wasn't a long walk, especially since you were basically jogging, and you arrived to the house within the hour.

You checked your phone, still no response.

The Salvatore front door was left open, and you became increasingly aware of the silence in the household.

Was this their idea of a game?

You huff slightly, unsure on whether to be scared or annoyed, when a noise made chills run down your spine. It sounded like a muffled cry, a painful one at that.

You tried to trace the noise, but it seemed to come from everywhere. You cursed your terrible sense of direction.

As you walked, the noise grew louder, and you could hear someone else laughing over the top.

Was it just a video game?

You pushed open the door of the living room and blinked at the scene in-front of you. Damon and Stefan, tied to chairs with ropes that seemed to burn them, and the two people you let into the house standing over them with sickening expressions.

The brothers glanced at you, their faces turning from in pain to horror.

"Oh," you said weakly "Erm...you really shouldn't be doing that," you said glancing between the four people.

The man, Klaus, laughed "And what are you going to do sweetheart?" he asked mockingly, walking closer to you.

You shrug "well...I know Damon's rather annoying sometimes, and Stefan makes some questionable decisions, so I can understand your frustration. But if you try and attack me, I'm going to have to assume you are the primary aggressor,"

Klaus' grin widened, turning to the Salvatore brothers "Is this your new little pet?" he asked, and they glared at him.

"Why don't we show them what happens to pets?" Rebeka asked.

"Don't you dare touch her!" Damon snarled, fighting against his burning restraints.

You stepped back slightly, wondering if now would be a good time to run. But as Klaus drew closer to you, you found yourself frozen to the spot.

"You should have stayed at the party little one," Klaus said, and you watched in curious horror as the veins under his eyes grew darker, his eyes darkening.

"Oh my god," you said, looking at him with wide eyes "Do you need to go to hospital? I can drive you - it's no worry," you added. His eyes looked like they had popped a million blood vessels.

Klaus drew back, a stunned expression on his face, "Excuse me?"

You pointed at his eyes "Mister I know you're like a criminal and all that but you gotta get those looked at. That looks painful,"

Behind him, Damon stared at you with wide eyes, shaking his head slightly.

"Painful-" Klaus started, as if stumped.

"Move out the way," Rebeka snarled, pushing her brother aside "If you're not going to kill her I'm starving,"

You step back uneasily once more, this implication not lost on you.

"Look, I really don't want to hurt you," you warned, lifting your hands slightly.

"I know," Klaus drawled "Let's have the little pet kill her friends - saves us a lot of work,"

You stare at them, before glancing to Damon "Yeah I'm not doing that," you said.

Then all of a sudden Klaus was in-front of you, holding your face in his hands as he forced you to look into his eyes.

"Isn't compulsion a beautiful thing?" Rebeka said snidely to Stefan and Damon.

But all you could focus on was Klaus' eyes as his pupils expanded.

"Kill Damon," he commanded, before letting go of you with a satisfied smirk. Damon stared at you with a mixture of sadness and horror. "See Damon? You should really keep a tighter leash on your pets,"

You glance between them, feeling extremely confused.

"Erm...does that usually work or something?" you asked, hopping onto the desk. If all they were gonna do was tell you to do something, this would be a lot easier than you thought.

Klaus snarled at you, his expression mutinous.

"On second thoughts, I'll just have to kill you," he said.

You squeaked, quickly ducking under the table as he came at you.

"Mister, please I don't wanna hurt you," you begged slightly. It didn't matter how evil this person was, you didn't want to kill them,

"Hurt me?" Klaus laughed. You watched in scared confusion as his eyes darkened once more, and fangs retracted from his mouth.

"Ohhhh what the fuck," you said, your eyes glancing to where a sword stuck to the mantlepiece above him.

The Salvatore brothers were struggling now, but Damon most of all, twisting and pulling against the burning ropes.

You turn to Klaus, a sad expression on your face. "I really don't want to hurt you, but I can't control it when I'm scared," you try to warn and he brushes you off with a grin.

As her runs at you, you hear Damon let out a pained cry. You quickly jump from the table, grabbing the sword above as you hurtle down past the vampire.

You brandish the sword in your hand, the weight of it not unfamiliar.

It would have to do.

Klaus snarled at you again, unsure on how you managed to escape his grasp.

He ran at you a second time, but he was faster, knocking the sword from your grip as he grabbed you by the forearms.

You crossed them, pushing against his strength with your own, desperate to keep control, but also to not die.

"Last chance," you whisper slightly, but the vampire didn't care, still attempting to force your arms apart.

Damon and Stefan almost couldn't watch the scene, your death almost inevitable, but the fact you were holding Klaus off for so long was starting to confuse them.

What confused them ever more, is when your eyes seemed to glow a bright amber, as you used your strength to push Klaus away, causing him to skyrocket into the opposite wall.

You picked up your sword once more, swinging it about carelessly, before brandishing it above your head. As you did so, whisps of flames circled you, making at some sort of creature as your sillohette.

A fox.

"A witch," Rebeka growled, launching herself at you. Your blade met her kneecaps, and she stumbled, knocking over the table in the process.

Klaus stared at you, a look of painted confusion on his face.

"A Kitsune," he realised "A baby one by the looks of it,"

You whipped your head too him, before using your sword to quickly sever the ties that held the Salvatore brothers.

Damon was the first to react, throwing Klaus' slightly burnt body out of the room with a growl.

Rebeka was quick to react, running after her brother before taking off into the night.

The Salvatore brothers stared at you, at the fox like flames that surrounded you, and the sword in your hand. They looked at each other, like unsure of how to react.

"Is it over?" you asked, dropping your sword slightly.

Stefan nodded "They've gone,"

With a sigh, you felt your consciousness slipping, acutely aware of the fact that someone had caught you before you hit the ground.

When you woke, you found yourself blinking through blurred vision at Damon, who was sat next to you, reading a book. Stefan stood behind him, staring into the fire.

"You're awake," he said sullenly, not seeming overly bothered "elena will be thrilled."

He turned to leave but you grabbed his wrist. He glanced down at you with an unamused expression.

"Who were those people?" you asked "And what did they want with you?"

Damon scoffed "I think I should be asking the question's little lady, like how long have you known you were a kitsune,"

"I didn't," you replied back honestly. He looked unconvinced. "I swear I didn't! I knew...I knew I could do something. But I didn't realise that I wasn't..." you trailed off slightly, letting go of his wrist "I'm sorry,"

Damon stared at you, trying to make out what your deal was.

"What happened?" he asked finally.

You sigh, drawing up the blanket that had been thrown on you.

"I can't tell you," you whispered, "I did something, something awful,"

Stefan turned to you, kneeling down in-front "Whatever it is, we won't judge. Whatever you've done, I can assure you we've done worse,"

"But I killed someone," you said weakly, your doe eyes wide as you searched for their reaction.

Damon laughed, and Stefan glared at him.

"I did!" you protested, thinking he didn't believe you "I didn't mean to...but I did,"

Damon looked down at you, kicking your feet off the Sofa so he could sit down besides you.

"And I've killed.." he paused, counting on his fingers, before giving up "At least 500,"

You frown at him "This isn't something to joke about,"

"He's not joking," Stefan said grimly "Me and Damon are 160 years old, give or take a few years, that man you saw, Klaus?"

"The vampire," you said, the word foreign on your tounge.

Damon turned to you, his eyes mirroiring Klaus', his fangs just brushing his bottom lip.

"Welcome to the club little lady," he said with a grin.

Your eye widen, and you took a deep breath "Okay this is a lot to process in an hour," you said, sinking into your seat slightly.

"Why don't you tell us what happened?" Stefan said calmly, giving his brother an annoyed look.

You took a deep breath, playing with your fingers.

"It was last year," you said finally "I was dating this guy and he wanted to take it further, but I didn't - I said I wasn't ready too,"

Damon felt anger bubble in his chest. He wasn't sure why, there was something so vulnerable about you in that moment, and part of him knew exactly where this story was going.

"He...he said it was okay and took me to a party that night. But he got really drunk, and I had to drive him home. I was helping him to his room when he tried to-" you took a deep breath, your face burning slightly as thought about what happened - what you were telling your two male friends "I tried to get away but he wouldn't let me,"

Damon instinctively took one of your shaking hands in his own, an action that didn't go unnoticed by his brother.

"Did he...?" Stefan asked, his face full of sympthy.

You shook your head "That thing - that thing you saw today it came out. It...engulfed him for like a second, one second he was there and the next he was just this charred b-body" you choke slightly and Stefan sighed.

"Klaus says your a Kitsune," Damon explained, realising he was holding your hand and quickly dropping it. "If I remember rightly, they're some kind of fire-fox spirit,"

You bit your lip.

"I'm going to fetch Elena," Stefan said, before patting your head slightly "You should get some sleep."

You were silent as he left, unsure on what to say. You were aware that Damon was looking at your, his icy blue eyes burning holes in your skin.

"Will they be back?" you asked quietly.

He sighed "Most likely,"

There was another pregnant pause before Damon said "Stefan was right you know, you should really go to sleep,"

"I can't walk," you admitted "Kitsune takes a lot out of me, so I'm basically immobile for the next hour,"

Damon rolled his eyes "Well aren't you a princess," he teased and you frowned at him. "Come here,"

Before you could protest he had already scooped you up, and ran Vampire speed to your bedroom, where he carefully place you on the bed.

"Jesus Christ," you groaned, your head spinning "That was not a good feeling,"

Damon smirked "A simple thankyou would suffice,"

He turned to leave, but you called out.

"Wait!"

He looked back at you, eyebrows raised.

"Will you stay? Please?" you asked quietly, not quite meeting his gaze. You didn't see his expression soften slightly, but you did watch as he crossed the room, and collapsed next to you with a sigh.

"You scared?" he teased. "Now you know I'm a big bad vampire?"

You shook your head "You get excited when I let you lick the spoon after baking brownies," you said with a yawn.

Damon scoffed "You know I could kill you in a heartbeat," he said.

You shrugged "Yeah and you haven't. So I think it's safe to say I'm pretty safe,"

Damon watched as you snuggled down in the bed, curled on your side and facing him with sleepy eyes.

"Yeah you are," he whispered softly.

That's when he realised, he wouldn't let anybody hurt you, even if you could handle yourself.

You were his girl, even if he hadn't asked you yet.

[dollfacefantasy]

Can't Help It

pairing: dbf!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your dad's coworker needs a housesitter, but the house isn't the only thing you'll be sitting on (haha pls laugh)

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, oral (m receiving), age gap (i imagine early 20s/late 30s), both reader and leon are kinda pervy but not in a skeevy way <3

word count: 5.3k

a/n: hi hi i am back! this was such a pain to write for no reason, but as always, i hope people enjoy. i'm not sure what trope this really falls under, it's probably more accurate to say dcw (dad's coworker), but we'll go with dbf for convenience. i might make a part 2 of this idk. also, i know the header images are really giving graphic design is my passion but... it is what is lol. as before, thank you for all the support on my last fics. if you reblogged or commented, i'm giving you a smooch rn. and just wanna say that i do take requests. if anyone is interested, don't be shy ;) any who, feedback, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! <3

When your dad’s new coworker asked if you’d be interested in housesitting for some easy money, you couldn’t find a reason to say no. Agent Kennedy, like your father, traveled for work a lot. Often gone for weeks at a time, he needed someone to watch the place and take care of menial tasks like getting the mail and watering the plants. It paid well and all you had to do was basically live in his house.

You had met him several times in passing before he offered you this job, and he was always nice to you. He would say hi when you’d come down for a snack while he talked to your dad in the living room. He’d ask how college was and about the different classes you were taking. One time he even told you about some old band he liked that he thought you would too. And that was all great.

But what was even better was that he was fine as fuck.

You had a fat crush on him from the moment you were introduced. The way his eyes pierced right through you but in the softest way. How his lips curled into a knowing smile while his hand gripped yours in a firm shake. The way he said “pretty name for a pretty girl” when you told him your name. From any other middle-aged man, that would have been so corny and had you internally shriveling up. But from him… you had to fight the urge to get on your knees then and there.

He’d approached you about watching his house, saying something about how there had been some nearby break-ins in empty houses and it would be a good way for you to get some spending money and blah blah blah. You were on board as soon as the opportunity to have more of him in your life presented itself.

Unfortunately, it was the nature of housesitting that you rarely saw your employer. You would see him when you showed up and when he came home and that was it. But those moments were enough to sustain your delusion.

The first time you came over, you walked into the house, glancing around the den of the man who enraptured you. It was pretty basic, but you figured that not being home a lot would be the reason for that. When you were done trying to psychoanalyze him from looking around his house, he gave you your own set of keys with a wink that had you blushing an embarrassing amount.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you said softly.

“Call me Leon, Sweetheart,” he replied.

You had to look away to conceal your giddy smile. You didn’t think he noticed the effect he had on you. Or if he did, he didn’t care about your pitiful infatuation. But other times, you could have sworn he did this kind of thing on purpose.

Your first stint in the house went smoothly. You made sure to do everything he asked and even cleaned up the place a little bit. When he returned from wherever his work had taken him that time, he seemed impressed to your delight. He looked around, making small talk with you before writing your check.

“You get up to anything crazy while I was gone?” he said, smirking as he scribbled his signature on the small rectangle.

“Yeah, I was real wild - I brought out your vacuum for probably the first time.”

He laughed, handed you the check, and teasingly purred “good girl.” 

Now, he may have been joking, but your panties nearly soaked through with arousal regardless. You yet again hid your revealing expression as you said a timid goodbye and headed out to your car. You were shifting your thighs together the whole ride home, fantasizing about being a good girl for Agent Kennedy so he would relieve that ache between your legs that clouded your thoughts.

Honestly, all of this made you feel pretty pathetic. Lusting after your father’s coworker, now technically your boss, who was a good fifteen years older than you. Blushing and squirming every time he said something more than ‘hi.’ Weren’t you better than this? But then you’d see those thick biceps and mysterious eyes, and the answer in your mind would be a resounding no.

Because honestly, you weren’t better than this, you were so much worse. After the good girl incident, you decided that if he didn’t want you yet, he would. You would make sure of it. From then on, every time you were housesitting, you wore your most revealing outfits, did your hair all pretty, and even tried special perfume so you’d smell extra nice.

But none of it seemed to work. He kept up his regular teasing and charm, but to your dismay, he hadn’t railed you on that sad leather couch in the living room. You tried to convince yourself that his gazes lingered longer and that his touches were more strategic, but that felt like reach even for you. 

It was so frustrating. What more could you do? You touched his arm while he spoke. You laughed harder at his corny jokes. You even hugged him once or twice when you could justify it. You tried to drop hints every way you could without literally just trying to seduce him, and he did not seem to care. You nearly gave up. You decided that maybe you should just cut your losses and spare yourself the humiliation. Leave yourself with some dignity and resign to just being his housesitter.

You would have done this if not for the fact that he lets you sleep in his bed while he’s gone.

His house was meant for one person. It didn’t have a guest room. He told you on your first gig that you were obviously allowed to sleep in his bed since the alternative was the aforementioned sad leather couch in the living room. He told you to bring whatever you needed to be comfortable - sheets, blankets, pillows - since you’d be there for weeks at a time.

At first, it was too weird. It made you feel dirty, sleeping in his bed while harboring your secret carnal desires. But goddamn, that couch in the living room was uncomfortable. You stuck it out for the first time, but the second time you housesat, you relented and dragged your belongings back to the room you’d forbidden yourself from knowing. 

His bedroom, like the rest of the house, is pretty blank, but there’s a little more personality here. It made you feel like such a stalker, but you couldn’t help making observations, right? You got to see the type of cologne he wore, the few dusty books he kept next to his bed, what kind of stuff he crammed in the nightstand drawers. It sounded creepy, but you just had curiosity, right?

You set yourself up in his queen size bed, draping the plush blanket you brought with you across the mattress. The bed was comfy enough, but the absolute best part, the part that kept your fantasies alive and well, was the way the sheets smelled like him.

You nearly moaned when you took a deep breath, filling your nose with that familiar scent. It gave you such a rush pushing your face into those smooth gray linens. It was so wrong, but you couldn’t help shamefully slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts to play with your swollen clit. You clutch the sheets in your fists as you writhe on the bed, whining as you fantasize about your special agent.

Leon had gone years leaving his house desolate without an issue. All that nonsense about potential burglaries and spending money for you had been total bullshit. It’s not like there was anything of value in his house anyway. Those excuses served only as a way to get more of you in his life. He thought housesitting was a happy middleground, a tether to you without being obvious about his motivations.

Ever since he saw you for the first time, heading out your front door, offering a timid ‘nice to meet you,’ he had been hooked. You bewitched him with your sweet temperament, that soft laugh when he told you bad jokes, those gorgeous eyes projecting all the emotions in that pretty head of yours. God, you were so fucking cute.

You made him feel like a dirty old man, sick and perverted for coveting his colleague’s daughter. The embarrassment he felt within himself when he’d notice he was staring at your tits or imagining how your soft lips would look wrapped around his cock was immeasurable. Even though the guilt boiled inside him, he couldn’t stop himself. He craved you. He started finding more opportunities to visit your house, hoping he could steal a few moments of your time. That’s when he knew enough was enough.

Having you as his house sitter worked perfectly. He could have his moments with you without feeling too disgusted with himself. Even though he liked to tease every so often, he kept it friendly. He noticed that you, on the other hand, seemed to be doing everything to change that.

He wasn’t a fool. He could see the changes in your appearance. Those skimpy outfits you’d flaunt yourself in drove him crazy. The way you’d playfully roll your eyes and brush his arm had his cock twitching in his pants. It was becoming all the more tempting to spread you out on the dining table and take what he wanted. But he still wrestled with that part of himself that said to not take it too far. That you deserved better.

That was until you started sleeping in his bed.

He had come home after your second gig, given you your check, and sent you on your way quickly because he was exhausted from his mission. He went straight to his room and collapsed on the bed. He could tell the sheets had been freshly washed by the soft feel, but also because you were always going above and beyond to please him. Despite the recent cleaning, he swore to himself he could smell some of your perfume on them.

He looked like a madman, smelling his bed sheets for the faintest hit of that scent. He groaned, picturing you lying here, your beautiful body sprawled out on his bed. He inhaled deeper while conjuring images of your unkempt hair and sleepy eyes. It wasn’t long until his dick sprung to life as he saw images of you with one of his pillows between your legs, whimpering as you drag your dripping cunt back and forth along the fabric. He couldn’t help the need to desperately pump his cock to sinful visions of his precious girl.

This morning it’s about six when Leon unlocks the front door and quietly walks inside. He completed his mission hours before. He was tired, but it had been short, only about a week, and relatively easy. He told you he would be home in the evening, but he’d finished earlier than expected.

He trudges through the house and down the hall to his bedroom, collapsing in bed at the forefront of his mind. It’s not until he reaches the door and hears your deep breathing that it occurs to him that his bed is currently occupied. He gently pushes the door open and walks in, planning on rousing you so you could get your money and be on your way. When he sees you though, that plan vanishes from his mind.

The sight of you nearly melts him into a puddle. He pads closer to the bed, careful not to disturb you. Your shiny hair is draped across the pillow as you lie on your stomach with one leg hiked up. Your arms rest close to your face, their raised position causing your t-shirt to ride up and allowing him to see your waist. The blanket was tangled between your legs, and his eyes are immediately drawn to the junction of your thighs covered only by those thin panties you wore.

Despite your beauty, he controls himself. He pulls the blanket over your lower body and sits beside you to contemplate his next move. He came up with a few different things he could do, but all he wanted right now was to watch you sleep. He felt like such a creep, but you looked heavenly in this state. His ears strained to hear those delicate exhales coming from your parted lips.

He could just go sleep on the couch until you woke up. He could just wake you up and offer to let you stay until you had your bearings. Or he could just let himself enjoy this a little more.

He wanted to wake you though. He wasn’t fully sure of what he was doing, but if there was any part of you that had reservations he wanted to know. It would rip his heart to shreds if he frightened you somehow. He begins rubbing your back in long soothing strokes. He makes small circles with his fingers every so often. You stir a little, but don’t wake.

He continues his ministrations, smiling at your sleeping form. He uses his other hand to brush your hair from your face. He strokes the locks away from your closed eyes before leaning closer to you. He can smell that familiar scent that had driven him to humping the sheets for the last few months.

“Hey Angel, need you to wake up for me,” he coos in your ear, his hot breath fanning across the side of your head.

It slowly registers inside your unconscious mind that you aren’t dreaming. Actual fingers are coasting along your back. An actual voice is coaxing you back to reality.

A low hum emits from your throat as you shift to face the source of your disturbance. Your eyes open, still heavy from sleep, and Leon enters your field of vision. For a second, you wonder if you’re still dreaming.

“There she is,” he whispers, giving you that charming smile. He runs his fingers along your jaw and tilts your chin to turn your face completely in his direction.

You feel your brain malfunctioning as he floods your senses. The morning light coming through the window illuminating him as he looks down at you. The deep timbre of his voice speaking to you. His rough fingertips dragging across the smooth expanse of your cheek.

Soon as your eyes come into focus and your mind clears the fog of sleep a little, you grasp enough of the situation to feel a jolt of panic. It felt like you woke up late for school. You shoot up in bed and look at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Oh my God, Leon, I’m so sorry. I thought you wouldn’t be back until tonight. I’ll be ready in a minute. Just-” you ramble. You go to fling the blanket off of you, but remember you didn’t wear shorts to bed. You have to sit there, looking at him as you feel heat creeping to your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he cuts you off with a quiet chuckle, gently catching your arm when you sit up, “I finished a little early. You don’t need to rush out the door. I figured you’d still be asleep.”

The look in his eyes soothes you. He has that rugged, worn out look that he gets when he comes back from missions. Your heart rate falls back down to normal levels, but your eyes still cast downwards, a little embarrassed he’d caught you unprepared. His fingers trail up and down your arm, and you shift a little to try and hide the fact that your nipples are hardening beneath the flimsy fabric of your shirt.

“Thank you. I’ll be up in a few though. I know you’re probably tired,” you say, giving him a sheepish smile.

He moves so that he’s further on the bed with you. He lays back on the pillows and looks up at you, rubbing your back how he was before you woke up. 

“Mmmm, I am, but you still don’t need to rush. I’m not gonna complain about a sweet thing like you warming my bed,” he says, that teasing smile spreading across his face and his fingers starting to trace patterns exclusively on the small of your back.

Your eyes flit away as your own smile grows on your face. How were you supposed to be normal about this? You look down at your hands in your lap and mutter a thank you.

“Honey, you really don’t need to be so shy all of the sudden,” he says softly, but there’s a smug lilt to his voice as well. You bite your lip as his hand begins fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

He can’t help the smirk and predator-like glint in his eyes that form at your reaction. This was it. That little smile and refusal to meet his eyes was all he could stand. He was closing in now. The flirtation between you two had gone on long enough. He wanted this, and if you wanted it too, his mind couldn’t find a reason to deny the two of you any longer.

“Sweetheart, if you have something to tell me, you can come out and say it. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to,” he says as he reaches up to pull your hair behind your shoulder and out of your face, “And, lately I’m starting to think that’s what you want.”

You look over to him now, your eyes staring into his. Your limbs feel weak, disbelief coursing through your veins. Your thoughts stampede through your mind, but you eventually force the words from your throat.

“I think I want that too,” you breathe. Your heart seizes at his brows playfully rising. You lay down on the bed, resting on your side so that you and Leon are face to face. Your pulse thunders in your ears while you try to conceal how shaky your breathing is.

He scooches over to you, pushing you on to your back and propping himself on his elbow so he’s positioned above you. He leans down and presses two faint kisses to your cheeks. Pulling back, he looks into your eyes and strokes your cheek again with the same soft and slow movements.

“Think, babydoll? I think you know what you want,” he whispers, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip, “I think you’ve known for a while. Wearing all those cute little outfits, prancing through my house and brushing against me like a kitten. You were just begging for my attention.”

You squirm slightly under the spotlight of his affection. Somehow, you maintain eye contact even though every cell in you feels the urge to look away. Part of your mind wonders if he’s still teasing. If he’s about to pull away and leave you wanting.

Before you could overthink anymore, his head lowers to the crook of your neck. He takes a deep breath of you as he moves himself further on top. 

“Now, you’ve got it, but all you had to do, sweet thing, was ask,” he says as his mouth ghosts over your neck, “That’s all you have to do right now. Just want to hear that you want me as bad as I want you.”

“Yes,” you whimper without a second thought, “Please touch me.”

“That’s my good girl,” he hums as he begins kissing your neck. The kisses are soft. They’re barely there, but they’re overwhelming to you. You can’t help the pathetic sound that leaves your lips as you tilt your head back. The hand that had been touching your face trails down to your waist and begins caressing your side under your shirt.

His tongue gently laps against the skin of your neck between kisses. Your whole body is starting to heat up while simultaneously getting chills. Every inch of you aches for his touch. Your thighs subconsciously spread as your breathing becomes heavier.

Leon lets out a small laugh at your display. “You must really want this Baby. Just a few kisses and rubs and you’re already mine,” he murmurs as his lips move up your neck and down your jaw. He kisses your lips next, giving your bottom lip a little nip.

Another needy sound escapes your mouth. You return the kiss and flick your tongue against his lips. “I do, wanted this since I met you,” you moan, your body writhing for more.

“Naughty girl,” he teases against your lips, “That’s okay though, Angel. I’m the same way. Wanted a handful of these pretty tits since I saw you.” His hand moves up and kneads your breast. His fingers massage the flesh before centering and pinching your nipple. 

You whine and arch into his touch. Your eyes flutter as your face contorts with desire. He slides over you, straddling your waist. He stares down at you and takes in what was finally in his grasp. He coos for you to sit up a little while he pulls your shirt off of you. You comply and then flop back against the pillows. Now exposed from the waist up, his eyes feel even more intense. He’s locked on to the view of your tits.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he mutters, “Even better than I imagined.” His hands cup the sides of your breasts, groping them a bit. You can now see his cock beginning to strain against his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight, but it’s gone when he leans down to take a nipple into his mouth.

His tongue circles the peak before lapping against it, drawing more whines from you. Your body arches into his touch while his hands never let up their fondling. You take your lip between your teeth again. He moves to give the other nipple the same treatment, leaving the other one cold as the air touches the saliva-coated skin.

He plays with your breasts for a while more before drifting down your abdomen, lavishing your stomach with kisses. He squeezes your waist as he playfully tugs the hem of your panties with his teeth. He looks up at you deviously. “Your nipples were so hard, I bet your pussy’s fucking soaked for me.”

All you can do is nod, any verbal response tangled up in your esophagus. He leans back on his knees and swiftly pulls the garment off. His pupils seem blown out as he gets a look at your cunt. He pushes your thighs to your stomach, spreading you out for his gaze. You felt so exposed, at his mercy as he held you there and just looked at you. Your arms reach down and pull at the hem of his shirt.

“Wanna see you too,” you whimper with pleading eyes.

“Yeah?” he says with a soft smile. He leans back and pulls his shirt off. It takes everything in you to hold back a gasp. “Been fantasizing about me, have you?”

Your eyes rake along his chiseled abdomen, drinking in every line and shadow of his muscular frame. You reach out and pull him back on top of you. His grin grows, and he indulges you. You connect your mouths again, this time sliding your tongue inside his. He groans at your sudden eagerness. He runs his hand through your hair while you feel up his back, exploring the definition there.

You give him a little push, signaling that you want to roll over. His body flips over and takes you with him so that you’re positioned how you wanted. You make out for a minute more until you pull back, looking at him with your lustful eyes and swollen lips.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you say simply, sliding down his body so that you’re lying between his legs. You nuzzle against the bulge in his pants before unzipping them and tugging them down.

His eyes follow your every movement. He pets your head as you rub your face against the outline of his dick. He tilts his head back and lets out a sigh. 

“That’s a good girl, just gotta give you some love and then you loosen up, don’t you?” he coos.

“Mhm,” you hum. You kiss his solid length over the cloth of his boxers. Then, finally, what you had been waiting for since meeting Leon. You loop your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and pull them down, unveiling his beautiful cock.

You wrap your fingers around it, just an exploratory touch. You feel the veins in your hold and the heat radiating from his shaft. You slowly bring your head to the tip to give him some tiny licks. Your eyes dart to his face, looking for approval.

Leon’s chest ached from the way you were looking at him like he was a god. When your tongue sticks out and your eyes return his stare, he nods at you and keeps stroking your hair. Your lips soon wrap around the tip, and you bob your head a little. He groans and his hips twitch.

“That’s a good girl, baby. Good fucking girl,” he moans as your head slides further down his member. His fingers lace through your hair, pulling a little.

The praise only makes you more enthusiastic. You move up and down with more speed, making lewd slurping noises as you work. His hand on your head and his sounds of pleasure has heat collecting in your belly, leaking out of your dripping pussy.

His head rests against the head board as he watches you with half-open eyes. His eyes squeeze shut and his body tenses as you push your head all the way down, taking him into your throat. Spit trickles from your mouth and drips on to his pelvis.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he whimpers, tugging on your hair a little. You taste his pre cum leaking on your tongue. A gagging noise comes from you and his hips twitch harder. He barely restrains himself from bucking up and lodging himself deeper in your throat. You moan around his cock, driving him even crazier. He feels the rush of an orgasm approaching and tugs your hair with more firmness, guiding your head up and off his lap. You whine softly as you lose the taste of him.

“Sorry, pretty girl, don’t wanna cum just yet,” he says.

You crawl back up his body, so you’re in his arms again. You kiss his cheeks and the corners of his mouth as he rolls the two of you over so he’s on top again. He connects your lips in a deep kiss, tasting himself on you as he drags the tip of his cock through your slippery folds.

He doesn’t tease for long though. Soon enough, he’s pushing himself into your tight cunt. You both let out a symphony of sinful noises. Leon watches as your face contorts with pleasure as he stretches you out. You both felt a budding sense of satisfaction after finally receiving what you craved for the last several months.

He bottoms out inside of you. His head falls forward against your neck. He pants as he holds himself together and lets you adjust, keeping an iron grip on your hips. Your fluttering around him as you accommodate his girth. Your nails lightly dig into his back while you cling to him.

He begins thrusting with slow and deep strokes. You moan out his name a few times with a variety of expletives. He keeps his face buried in your neck, grunting as he feels the velvety sensation of your walls around his length. His motions become more fluid as he finds a rhythm with you.

“That’s right Angel, better than your dreams?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you whimper, “So much better. Think your cock was made for me.”

“That so, Baby? I’m made to fill up a precious girl like you? Keep you happy and full of cum,” he growls into your neck, his thrusts gaining intensity.

You nod thoughtlessly as he continues battering your insides, gliding over your sweet spot repeatedly.Your arms wrap tighter around him as you feel yourself getting dragged closer and closer to the edge. Your noises become more strained as Leon lays sloppy kisses on the side of your head.

He hooks his arms underneath your knees and brings your thighs up to your abdomen again. His arm loops around and thumbs your clit as he slams himself in and out. Your back arches and you squirm from the rush of white hot pleasure. You’re right there, not able to hold on for much longer.

“I’m gonna have you so full of my cum today, it’s gonna be dripping out of you still the next time you’re here,” he grunts into your ear, “Make sure your pussy remembers me till I can fill her again.”

His vulgar words rip a high pitched moan from your throat and cause your eyes to roll back. “Fuck, Leon, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Go ahead, sweet girl. Squeeze me nice and tight,” he moans, his own voice getting strained.

You do as he says. The orgasm overtakes you. You release a strangled cry as your body rhythmically rolls into the feeling. Your pussy clamps around Leon tight, sucking him deep and keeping the attention on that blissful spot. The thrill of satisfaction rushing through your mind only works you further. Your eyes flutter and your lips part as you completely let go.

As he watches you cum, he notes that it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The sight of your gorgeous body writhing and trembling because of him. The primal sounds of your moans and cries. It’s too much for him. He growls and grunts into your neck, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He snaps even harder into you and floods you with his sticky, hot cum.

You both ride the waves of euphoria together until you both start coming down. He basically collapses on you as he catches his breath and you wipe the sweat from your brow. After a minute, he pushes himself off of you and flat on to the bed next to you. He gazes at the ceiling as his chest continues to rise and fall with the need for more oxygen.

You sit up slowly, realizing he probably wants you gone now. Like he said, you feel his cum leaking out of you as you move to grab your panties from the corner of his bed. This is how you expected it to be, but it still hurt a little. Nothing you couldn’t handle though. Your pulling them back on when your snapped out of your thoughts by Leon’s arm around your waist, dragging you to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks teasingly, spooning you and softly kissing beneath your ear, “You got what you wanted and now you’re running out?”

“Oh, uhhh… I thought you’d want me to leave,” you say quietly.

He guides your face so you’re looking at him. His eyes are still soft but more serious. “You think I would just fuck you and then throw you out on your ass? You’ve been sleeping in my bed for months, but you don’t know me as well as you think,” he says and kisses your nose, “You don’t have anywhere to be today, yeah? You thought you’d be here till later anyway.”

You nod in agreement, your eyes casting down with some embarrassment over your assumption.

“Hey, don’t get all shy on me now. There’s no reason for it,” he teases, “We have all day for me to show you how I want to take care of you. Just give me a moment, I’m not as young as I use to be.”

[lcriedlastnight]

Enemies to lovers with Lando: "you want me?" "you know i do"

thank you so much for your request, anon!

tw: fem!reader, swears, wee bit angsty, she's a big one, dickhead!lando. lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 2.8k

this weekend had gone horrible for lando so far, and of course as his assistant you had gotten the brunt of it. on days like this you don't know why you didn't just quit your job. lando clearly didn't like you, in fact you would go as far to say that he hated you and wouldn't everything go much more smoothly if you both liked each other? you lay awake in bed at night - especially after a rough day of running around like a headless chicken after lando - thinking about having a job where your boss didn't curse the ground you walked on.

you had been working overtime this weekend, making sure that lando had everything he needed all weekend for press conferences, meetings with zak and andrea and even when he needed a second alone to himself in his drivers room, you would make sure to tell anyone who was looking for him that he was busy, just so he could get a break. you had decided when lando was in looking at data after both free practise rounds on friday to grab a bite to eat. you hadn't eaten since breakfast, it was now a little past five. it wasn't an exaggeration to say you were starving.

you head towards some tables next to the cafeteria and pull what you had brought for lunch out of your bag. you pull out your phone, scrolling through your texts, one catching your eye. it was the groupchat you had with all your friends, baring in mind there was only four of you.

'it's like a double date but for the four of us!" lara, had said. the other girls seemed to disagree with whatever her idea was. you scroll down further to see the newer messages.

'what if we set her up? i'm sure her boss will give her the saturday off to go on a date with him." again it was lara who suggested it, but it caught your eye because she was talking about you. who was she trying to set you up with and why was she even doing it in the first place? there was also no way lando would be giving you saturday off, never mind during a race weekend.

you tell them so before hearing the distinct voices of lando and zak chatting away as they make their way down the hall. you sigh and pack away your half eaten lunch. you could've finished it, you were sure lando wasn't that much of a dick that he would deny you of food but you didn't want him to hold it over your head. you knew for certain he would do that. you shove the lunch bag into the bigger bag then sling it over your shoulder. your phone pings, a message from the groupchat.

'too late it's already set up, ask your boss and we'll go shopping on monday when you're home.' lara says. you could kill her. you don't respond, just shoving your phone into your pocket and walking over to lando and zak.

"hey, great to see you again!" zak greets you with a cheery smile. it's easy to happy around zak, the only time you've seen him annoyed or upset has been on bad race days. you're sort of surprised he is so because lando has not been performing so far this weekend. you bite your tongue on that one, instead giving him a smile back and returning his polite words.

"well look, as i said before, this is only friday, the only day where what you drive like matters is sunday. that's when we get the points. although i'm sure you will be back on your game tomorrow. we all have off days." zak tells lando, a comforting hand on his shoulder before he walks off in the direction he came in. you spot oscar too, so there is no doubt that it is oscar's turn for his driving this weekend to be analysed. oscar's weekend comapred to lando's has been pretty good.

"that's you for today. nothing else you're needed for." you tell lando, triple checking his calandar, making sure you were looking friday. the time where you were accidentally looking at his saturday schedule instead stays at the forefront of your mind whenever you look at his calandar.

"i know. you told me that before." lando remarks, his voice blunt and a little nasty. its like your presence just pisses lando off. you remember the date your friends set you up with and will courage to fill your veins before asking him.

"what are you still doing standing there?" lando asks, not genuinely asking, just wanting you to leave him alone. he hates seeing you outside of work and although you were in the paddock, he deems this outside of work.

you take a deep breath before just directly asking him. "can i have next saturday off?". lando stops untying his fireproofs. he looks up at you.

"why? why are you making plans on a race weekend?" he condescends, like you were stupid.

"i didn't. my friends set me up on a date without asking." you explain. you hated explaining yourself to him but you knew if there was any chance you were getting saturday off then you had to do what he asked.

lando pauses for a second, staring at you then returns to undoing his fireproofs. "no. i need you here." he declares.

you shouldn't be shocked he said no, you really should have seen it coming but it still surprises you nonetheless.

"you can't go without me for just one day?" you ask, as if you were desperate to go on this date. now it was more about him not giving you the day off than it was about actually going on the date.

lando's brows crinkle. "no. if i give you the saturday off then you'll need the sunday off too as i'm guessing it's not here so unless you're planning on flying over straight after your date?" he spits out the end of the sentence. you had not thought about that. you are quiet as you take in his words.

"that's what i thought. tell your friends to cancel the date, you're coming with me all weekend." lando basically demands.

"i'm not sure why you even want me here. you hate me, i don't know why you haven't just fired me and found a new assistant. this would work a lot better for you if you actually liked the person you need to spend the whole weekend with." you grumble, annoyed at his attitude and how he felt like he could just go around telling you what you could and couldn't do with your life. it seriously felt like you were cutting off you social life for this job. you storm past lando and straight out of the paddock into the uber waiting for you, it stands out against the rich, fancy cars surrounding it in the carpark.

you drive back to the hotel in silence, in one of those moods where everything was annoying you. you hate the fact that you had to stay in the same hotel as him. you had never been this mad at your job before. you try to unwind once you are back at the hotel by jumping into the shower but it does not help.

once you have gotten yourself dry and have gotten changed for bed, you eat the rest of your ruined lunch/dinner and text your friends back letting them know that lando was in fact, not giving you the day off for the date. you then throw yourself into bed. you put the tv on but the only channel that spoke english was the news channel and you seriously couldn't care less about the way people make tea. how did stuff like this even make the news anyway?

you scroll through all your social media apps then decide to download a job app. you enter your qualifications, cv and a description about yourself and your current job. you apply to a few then feel yourself getting tired so you set your alarms and head to sleep, dreading having to see lando tomorrow. you hope he's in a good mood because even though it doesn't matter what mood lando is in, he's still a dick to you, he's a little bit nicer when he's in a better mood.

you go over everything in the morning before you leave, making sure you have everything. as you make your way to the uber waiting outside the hotel, you check the job app but you have no new notifications. you usually only uber back to the hotels and lando drives you there seeing as you both have to arrive at the same time but there was no way you were spending more time than what you had to with him today. you seen him in the hotel carpark getting into his car when your uber was pulling away, so at least you knew he would be on time.

you and lando arrive at the paddock at the same time, you know you would have to wait for him before going in because andrea wanted to have a quick meeting with the three drivers ahead of the practise session and qualifying.

lando sees you waiting and eventually catches up to you. "andrea wants to see you guys before free practise today. i don't know how long for but it might be long 'cause he wants to talk about quali too." you don't look up from your phone as you read out what had been added to his calendar late last night.

"alright." lando replies. there's no nasty comments, no bluntness and no condescension. you are completely shocked but don't let it show on your face as you both walk inside the mclaren motor home together.

you spot oscar in the corner, eating some sort or energy bar? or maybe some kind of breakfast bar. either way it reminded you that lando probably hasn't eaten yet today, so as he and oscar head towards the meeting room you try to find something lando can eat. oscar has told you many times that making sure lando eats is not in the assistants job responsibilities and yet you feel yourself compelled to make sure he is taking care of himself.

you grab a few of the same bars you seen oscar eating earlier before heading towards the meeting room. you hate walking into the meeting room when there was meetings going on so you try your best not to do it. you have only had to do it once and it was the worst thing you've ever had to do. you were so embarrassed.

everyone is surprised at your interruption but you give them a shy smile and head towards lando. you don't say anything just setting the three bars down on the table in front of him. lando locks eyes with you. "thank you." he says.

this time you can't hide your shock as it's written plainly on your face. it's hidden from the others in the room except lando. you only smile in response then rush out the room. what is going on with him today? you sit on the same table you tried to take your break on yesterday as you respond to emails of lando's behalf and it hits you. lando is clearly feeling bad. you'll talk to him before qualifying.

the meeting ends ends and both mclaren boys are quick to get ready for free practise. from the looks of it, zak was right. lando was back in the game today. he came in third on the time sheets. you hoped this would mean a good qualifying, if not for lando and mclaren but for you. this good mood and lando treating you nicer would definitely go down in flames if lando didn't place in the top five for qualifying. you have never been religious, but you prayed then for it to happen.

you stood at the back of the garage, talking to one of lando's engineers when the man himself came over and dragged you away from him. you didn't even get a chance to apologise for lando's rude behaviour before you were both standing in the hallway to the driver rooms.

lando doesn't speak he just leans forward, pressing his lips to yours in a hesitant and light, kiss. when you didn't react he kissed you again with a little more force. every single thing in you was telling you to kiss him back but there was a single thought in your brain that reminded you who he was and how had treated you the past year. you end up pulling away and asking "what are you doing?".

lando looks at you confused. "you know what i'm doing." he utters, voice laced with confusion, like he seriously didn't understand what the problem with kissing you out of nowhere was.

"uh i don't think i do." you cross your arms, waiting for an expantation.

"i want you." lando tried to say confidently, but it comes out a little weaker than what he expected. he puffs out his chest and stands a bit taller, trying to see more confident.

"you want me?" you repeat back to him. surely he wasn't being serious.

"you know i do." lando responds, hand flying up to cup your cheek. you look at him confused. there is no way he has been living the same year that you have. what the fuck does he mean 'i want you'? you have literally never felt more confused in your life.

"do i? last time we spoke you wouldn't let me have a day off?" you remind him. you want to remind him of a lot of things right now, like every single moment he made you go home or even back to your hotel room and cry. his hand moves from your cheek.

"yeah and why do you think that was? because you were going on a date. with some guy. i don't want you going on dates with random guys i want you going on dates with me." lando tries, desperate to explain himself to you.

"i don't think you have a right to tell me who i can and can't go out with, lando." you are seething. who does he think he is messing around in your life like this? "you're abusing your position as my employer."

"fine. you want the weekend off to go on a date? you can have it off then." lando says, firm and a little sad. before you can say anything back to him, he storms away into his drivers room. you don't know why you just did that. you don't even want to go on the date, you would love to go on the date with lando instead, just like he proposed but you were still annoyed at the way he treated you. you know why he did it now but it still doesn't make it right.

you don't see lando for hours until there are people crowding around his driver room telling him it's time to come out for qualifying. you guess from the noise that lando eventually comes out. zak is there telling him information about the car. you suddenly feel that you need to tell him you do like him. right now. you just felt like he had to know. so you squeeze through the people making their way to his car with him. you find lando's hand and give it a tight squeeze to get his attention.

you pull him closer before you whisper into ear, not wanting all the people surrounding him to hear. "i want you too, but you hurt me. apologise and we can maybe work something out." you reveal. lando's eyes widen, with what you can clearly tell is happiness. he doesn't even have any time to answer you so all he gets to do is nod as he's told to get into the car.

you watch the qualifying with eager eyes, this is the fiirst time since you started that you were actually excited to watch lando race, even though it was just qualifying. he really does put the 'flying' into the flying laps. after a very long hour, lando qualifies in second.

"front row for lando!" the garage exclaims in joy. you can't help but join in. you all wait for lando's car to return to the garage before people are patting him on the shoulder in congradualations.

lando speaks to a few people before he spots you through the crowd, he wades through it to get to you. "hi. i'm so fucking sorry for being a dick to you for the past year. i don't know how to cope with my feelings and i ended up turning positive feeling into negative ones and taking it out on you. i'm so fucking sorry, please let me make it up to you." lando begs. you don't know how he knew that you didn't want anything big as an apology, just lando admitting he was wrong was enough for you.

you nod with a smile to his question and lando seals it with a kiss, not caring that the garage was filled with people and most importantly cameras. he could deal with that later. for right now he had you.

[saturneras]

Private Eyes II

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: It has been a couple of weeks and the job has worked you to the bone. You haven't finished your shift at the station once during daylight hours and the tasks keep piling up. The worst of it all? Joel Miller has made himself scarce and you only ever see him leaving the office exactly when you appear. One could assume he is trying to avoid you on purpose. Be as it may, after what happened in the archives, you are not letting him off the hook this easily. After all it is your brother's poker night and you know a certain chief of police who hasn't missed a game in weeks. Isn't it a wonderful night for a game?

Note: I am so happy you guys liked the first part and I hope this one makes you kick your feet.

Part I

When you sort the last report into the file and place them on the rookie's desk, you let out a big sigh. Finished. And it is not even eight o'clock. What a win. Almost everyone is already gone for the night and as you gather your jacket out of the little cubicle Lori assigned you on your first day, Daniel calls out from behind you.

"Still here?"

"Justice never sleeps,” you joke and pull on your jacket.

He grins, "I feel like this is something I should say."

His smile is handsome, attractive even. His uniform is very well fitted and you can tell that he probably works out regularly. Does seem like a guy who drinks an insane amount of protein shakes and doesn't do caffeine though.

You shrug and grab your bag. "You can use it, I won't tell."

Another laugh and you brush past him toward the door. If you’re quick you’ll catch them right when they’ve already had a drink or two. Alcohol makes for lose tongues and quick tempers, equaling lots of fun.

“You need a ride?” Daniel asks.

You shake your head. "I'm good, but thanks."

Before you turn around again, Daniel takes a step toward you. "It's no problem, really. I'm just finishing up myself."

"Actually," you reply. "I'm just on my way down to Mickey's."

His eyebrows lift up. "Oh no way, I was just heading over there myself."

That's probably a lie and you can tell by the way he so desperately wants to seem nonchalant, but you don't care and would rather take the 10 minute drive than walk for 30 in this heat.

"Oh, what a coincidence," you say and can't help the slight sarcastic undertone. You like Daniel, just as much as the next girl likes a nice guy. He has had you work on some reports he had to write and let you draft up a proposal to the city for some funding allocations last week that you actually put a lot of work into. But you can't shake the feeling that he seems like the kind of guy to take credit for other people's work.

"Yeah," he says and smiles easily. "Funny."

"I just need to change really quick, is that okay?"

Daniel nods, "Of course, take your time."

You quickly change into some jeans and a white tee in the women's changing rooms.

Out in the station's parking lot he opens the door for you. Daniel drives a BMW, which does seem like quite a fancy car for a police officer. "You like the car?" He asks.

You can't help but chuckle slightly at his eager tone. You don't really care for cars, but reply, "Sure."

Daniel starts the engine and you smoothly glide out of the parking lot and the buildings rush past you on the side of the street. You lean back into the seat a little and close your eyes for a second, letting the work day fall away.

"Have you been settling in nicely?" Daniel breaks the sweet silence between you two.

You turn your head to face him and say, "You do know that this is my hometown, right?"

He laughs as if you had made a joke. "Oh sure, sure, I just meant with the station and all."

"It's a lot of work," you reply honestly. "I just wish I could see some operations, some action, you know?"

"Right," Daniel replies. "The chief likes you in the back office, huh?"

"I don't think the chief likes me to do anything," you say a little too snappy.

Daniel grins. "He isn't the most accommodating person here, let's be real."

When you say nothing, he adds, "But not everybody is like that. I really appreciate all the stuff you've been helping me out with. Your report was really good, by the way. Maybe I can take you out on a ride that's not too dangerous some time."

"Sounds good," you say. "I'm glad I could help."

"It actually went pretty well, the city agreed to all the terms you suggested. You're really good at this."

You laugh. "Maybe they're just easily convinced."

Right when you pull up into the parking lot at Mickey's, Daniel says, "I bet you can be pretty irresistible, huh?"

You know how this goes and are not in the mood for a "I'm just a nice guy trying to be nice" kind of conversation and just ignore the comment. He pulls into a spot in front of the entrance and you can't make out your brother's truck anywhere. Maybe you've mixed up the days?

When you step into the bar, the first couple of notes of Two Dozen Roses fills the air and your ears immediately. You've always liked it here, even though as a teenager you never used to drink go. Mickey's seemed more like a bar for dads and older brother's who didn't like to talk or listen to anything other than country. And as a 19 year old all you want to do is talk and listen to anything but country. You can tell Daniel is somewhere behind you, rambling about something.

"I'll go get us a drink," Daniel says and puts one hand softly on your back faster than you can react and struts off to the bar.

You take a look around and see the usual crowd hanging around the bar and the little dance floor. But just as ocean calls to the shore, you can sense his eyes on you even before you spot him a couple of tables further in the back. He is sitting facing the entrance, like a good chief of police should, in between his brother Tommy and some guy you haven't seen before. You spot your brother with his back turned toward you, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"You should've thought of that before you invited him to join, Tommy," Casey says between laughs.

Joel Miller hasn't stopped looking at you this whole time you're standing in the middle of the room. His eyes are like honey stuck to a spoon, lazily clinging to every bit of you. The chief also has changed out of his usual white shirt and tie and is wearing a dark green flannel that stretches over his chest the moment he leans back into his chair, taking a sip of his drink. The ice cubes slide toward his mouth and the thought of the warmth of his lips melting the ice with each sip hits you like a curveball. For some reason, inexplicable to you, it makes your stomach tighten. Okay, that's a lie. You can admit, perfectly indifferent, of course that Joel Miller is .. not hard to look at. His dark eyes are still on you. Taunting. As if he's reading your mind, he raises his right eyebrow and you can't help but make your way over, as if he's got some gravitational pull forcing you to submit. Calling something inside of you that you hadn't realised was there.

"Well well well," Tommy says loudly. "Who do we have here? Isn't it the future attorney general?"

You can't help but smile at Tommy, who gets up immediately, moving around the table to engulf you in a tight hug. He is the friendliest man you've ever met and you're happy your brother chose someone so lovely to build a business with. Casey turns his head and grins.

"Off before midnight?" Casey asks mockingly. "What's gotten into you?"

"Midnight?" Tommy barks. "What have you been making her do, Joel?"

All eyes turn to him and he doesn't even flinch, just looks at his brother and says, "Nothing she can't handle."

Your eyes meet for a split second and then he glances at his brother again.

"This sounds like a case of employee exploitation, if you ask me," Tommy says.

"Nobody did," Joel replies gruffly and gets up from his seat.

"Hey," Tommy turns to me. "You want a drink?"

Just in time, Daniel materialises behind us, two bottles in his hands. "Hey, guys."

Casey turns toward the table again, mumbling something that did sound quite a lot like hell nah. It takes a second before Tommy's furrowed brows ease up and he smiles. "You brought the little Sheriff?"

"Who?" You ask, confused.

Tommy points to Daniel, whispering in my ear. "His dad is the Sheriff."

"Oh," you say. "I didn't know."

Tommy nods and takes the beer out of Daniel's hand. "Thanks bud, you play poker?"

Daniel looks as if he might protest but then remains silent and nods his head.

"You can join if you want," Tommy suggests and elicits a muffled groan by Casey and the other guy. "I think Joel has stripped us of enough money tonight."

"Yeah, sure," Daniel nods eagerly. "I just need to call my Dad to let him know I won't make it to dinner."

Joel huffs and grabs his glass from table. You take a step back and let Daniel slip into Tommy's seat, while Tommy mumbles something into his brothers ears and pats him on the back. Joel turns around and heads for the bar. You watch him go and then watch them play for a bit. You've played enough poker with your dad that you realise they're all trying hard not to make Daniel look like an idiot, who continuously makes every possible mistake.

"I'll be right back," you say to Casey and make your way to the bar, turning left toward the restrooms. Behind a cherry red door leads a narrow hallway. You open the heavy door and after having stepped inside for a couple of steps, collide with the broad chest dressed in a dark green flannel button down.

"Didn't I tell you to be more careful?" His voice is calm and has the tiniest bit of bite to it.

"I probably wasn't listening," you reply.

"Why did you bring your puppy?" He says.

"My what?" You say and then realise who he is talking about. "Oh, Daniel just gave me a ride from work."

"Since when do you dress for work like this?" Joel's eyes graze down your body in a calculated measure. You think you must imagine the way his eyes darken when they roam over your white shirt. And you can't help but cross your arms under his scrutiny, feeling like it's burning through you.

"You know there are changing rooms at the station and you would know what I had been wearing to work if you would ever bother to show up yourself."

Now it is his time to cross his arms defensively. "I've been busy."

"With what?" You press.

"With shit that is none of your concern," he replies roughly.

"So it is only my concern, when you need someone to do your shitty paperwork?"

"You wanted to see how the real world works," he says. "There you go."

"Daniel at least lets me do some actual work and not just digitalise files from the 70s," you say.

"I knew he did not fucking write that report," Joel mumbles more to himself than you. "He shouldn't have done that."

"I enjoyed writing it."

"I don't care if it made your little lawyer heart race," he says. "It was Riley's job and he didn't do it."

"It got done, didn't it?" You say.

"That's not the point," Joel says sharply. "He had a direct order and he disobeyed it. It's not your job to do his work. I assigned him that task to make him familiarise himself with the issues our station is facing."

You stay silent and Joel clears his throat.

"Never mind, he'll hear the end of this."

"I didn't realise I was disobeying your order," You say.

Joel furrows his brows. "You weren't."

"You sure?"

"Believe me," he replies. "If you were disobeying my orders, you would know."

His gaze is lowered down to you and you feel your body tensing.

You let your arms fall to your sides and slightly lean forward. "Remind me to never disobey your orders then."

"Following orders does not seem like your strong suit." His face remains impassive.

You grin slightly and focus on his face. It would only take one small step to close the distance between you two. Not even a second.

Once again his eyes have turned to molten chocolate and you can't help but watch their specks of gold catch the dim light. He looks like he hasn't shaved is beard in a couple of days and you wonder what his stubble feels like scraping against your neck. The sudden thought surprises you. How would it feel to be pressed against his front with his arm around you and his tongue on your neck? The sudden image of it runs on a loop inside of your head, when Joel interrupts, "Casey can't drive you home. He's been drinking."

The change of subject confuses you for a second, as if you both were watching the same movie but he switched the channel.

"I know," you say. "But I'm staying a bit later anyways."

"You need to call your daddy first, too?" Joel asks, raising his eyebrow. And you know he cannot not like this, enjoy this understanding between the two of you.

"Which one?" You retort and he isn't quick enough at hiding his surprise.

He grunts and leans the slightest bit toward you. "Why do I feel like a broken record when I tell you to watch your goddamn tone."

"Maybe you should ask nicely," you say.

"That is not something you should say to your boss, sweetheart" Joel says.

"As I am officially clocked out and due to you not carrying your badge or your gun it is safe for me to assume you are off duty. So technically, you're not acting as my boss right now, sir."

"Just because you can't see it, does not mean it isn't there," Joel says and you raise your eyebrows.

"A grower not a shower, huh?"

Joel's eyes narrow. "You need to watch it, Darlin'."

He turns his body, forcing you to do the same, so your back is pressed against the wall of the hallway. You're trying to concentrate on his words but his smell makes its way up your nose and seems to cloud your brain. He is so close that you can feel his hot breath on your skin, laced with a hint of whiskey. You thought it would be much easier to navigate this conversation but now it seems almost redundant and you slowly forget why you wanted to talk in the first place.

He raises his arm and places one hand next to your head. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a piece of work?"

Your chin raises slightly in defiance. "You're not the first one who has given me such a compliment."

Joel's jeans touch your bare legs and if he wanted to he could flush your bodies by the push of his hips. He is towering over you, his eyes looking like they're looking for something on your face, they haven't been able to find yet. And you feel like telling him you want him to never stop searching for it. You hear the first couple of notes of Chris Stapelton's "You Should Probably Leave" resound from the bar, as he lifts his other hand slowly as if not to startle you.

When his large hand has almost touched your hip, he says, "Let's see if I'll be the la-"

The door to the bar opens and Joel immediately yanks his hands away and puts two step between you.

Daniel appears in the doorway and his eyes widen in surprise. "Oh, there you are."

"Here I am," you say, trying to sound relaxed. Probably failing. What the fuck was that just now?

"I was just gonna say that your brother just headed out over to Tommy's house for more drinks and I need to go to my dad's house to pick some stuff up," he says.

It takes you a second to figure out that he is waiting for you to relieve him of the duty to give you a ride home.

"No worries, I'll just get an Uber," you say exactly at the same time Joel says, "I'll take her."

You turn around and glare at him. "That won't be necessary."

"Awesome," Daniel exclaims. "Thanks, Chief. See you tomorrow."

And with that he steps back into the bar, leaving you standing there with Joel.

"I can just get an Uber, it's no big deal."

"I'm taking you home and it's not a topic of discussion, so you can shut it," he says and starts walking toward the door. You follow his steps quickly.

"I am an adult, I can get home by myself," you protest.

"Do you even know how many women get kidnapped or assaulted by their driver?"

"This isn't New York, Miller," you say. "We are in Texas."

"What do you think I'm doing at my job?" Joel says and opens the bar entrance door for you to walk through. "Cutting ribbons and issuing speeding tickets?"

"Something like that," you say and stop in front of his truck.

"Why do you think we established our office hours for women?" He looks at you as if he's actually waiting for a response, but you know he isn't. "People are dangerous and it is my job to protect you."

"I don't need protection," you snap and add, "From you."

"You might not need it," Joel says, opening the passenger door. "But you sure as hell will get it. Now get in the truck."

You don't attempt to make a move and he shifts his weight.

"It might make it easier," Joel warns. "But I don't need a badge nor gun to make you get into this truck, Darlin'."

"I'd love to see you try," you press and almost see a grin appear on Joel's face.

"I ain't above throwing you over my shoulder."

"Is that supposed to make me feel scared?"

He stoically remains next to the passenger door and just watches you. "Just get in the goddamn car, will ya?" Once again is voice is pure cool ice and it impresses you how he can say something so decisively, leaving no room for disobedience.

You sigh and walk toward him, stepping onto the side step of his truck. Now you're at his eye level and without thinking, your head moves to the side, hovering directly in front of his. A strand of hair has fallen from his head into his eyes and you feel the urge to push it back. The urge to run your fingers through his hair hasn't faded ever since that moment in the archives. When his eyes lower themselves and cling to your lips, you can't help but release a soft breath. His jaw clenches almost imperceptibly, but he slowly steps out of the door and moves to the side for you to sit down.

You wait for him to shut the door but it doesn't happen. Instead you suddenly feel that familiar breath on the side of your neck, dancing down your neckline. Goosebumps give away your receptiveness to his warmth, but you can't turn your head, you can't risk to look.

Joel has one arm propped on the car, one is holding the door. His shirt is pulled across his chest, revealing a slither of his tanned skin. You inhale shakily, when he whispers only for you to hear.

"And I didn't even need to ask nicely," he says. "Such a good girl."

[anakinstwinklebunny]

DID YOU KNOW THAT THERE'S A TUNNEL UNDER OCEAN BLVD?

TW: angst

The day Vinnie passed away, SAM MONROE felt his heart collapse in ways he didn’t think were possible. His life had already been torn apart once—losing you after childbirth, holding your lifeless hand while your baby boy let out his first cry. Now, that same boy, his little Sam Junior, was gone as well.

It all started with a small fever. Nothing dramatic at first, just Vinnie’s soft, sleepy murmurs and flushed cheeks. Sam had thought it was just a cold, something a little Tylenol and his mom’s warm compresses could fix. He’d carried Vinnie downstairs to his mother, who cooed at her grandson and tried her best to soothe him.

But when the fever didn’t break, when Vinnie’s tiny body burned hotter and hotter, Sam panicked. His mother called 911, and the ambulance came, for Sam, in the slowest way possible.

He walked fast after paramedics, asking questions that hadn't have answers yet. Tears spilled from his eyes, watching how they didn't let him inside the ambulance. Mother's arms around his shoulders, sobs getting through their throats, before Sam run hopelessly after the car

In the cold emergency room, surrounded by nurses who avoided his eyes, Sam held his lifeless son. Vinnie’s small and puffy hand, the same one that used to tug on Sam’s long sleeves and reach for his hair, was limp and pale. Sam wept openly, his shoulders shaking as he kissed Vinnie’s cold forehead, wishing for the warmth that was no longer there.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, just whispering to his son:

“I’m sorry, bud… I’m so sorry baby boy”

The words fell out of him without thought, spilling smoothly from his shaky, swollen lips “I should’ve known something was wrong. I should’ve done more. I—”

His voice cracked.

Vinnie wouldn’t hear him - not anymore. His baby boy would never call him this adorable, lisped 'baba' again or laugh at his silly voices, faces

When Sam’s mom finally pried Vinnie’s body from his arms, he felt hollow, like everything tethering him to life had been severed.

What was the point of living anymore? If everything was taken from him? Everything he ever loved and cared for, what made him a better man..

Sam’s world became full of blur condolences he didn’t want to hear and the haunting, disgusting silence of an empty house. Every corner was reminding him of Vinnie. The small dinosaur pajamas still hanging in the laundry. The tiny sneakers he tripped over every morning. The colorful plastic plates on the kitchen counter, ready to be used for another set of waffles and blueberries

He couldn't bring himself to touch any of it.

Sam stopped sleeping in his bed because Vinnie’s baby monitor was still on his nightstand, blinking red in cruel irony. Instead, he found himself sleeping on the couch, holding one of Vinnie’s stuffed animals like a lifeline.

And the dreams… God, the dreams were the worst. Dreams where Vinnie was laughing, where Sam was chasing him around the park or lifting him up to touch the sky. Dreams that felt so real, too real. He could swear he smelled baby shampoo in the air when he woke up. Yet when his eyes opened, the only thing that was there was the cold, dark house and the image of his mother making breakfast for his stepbrothers.

And those questions - are you okay? I'm so sorry you've went through this, it must be terrible. Well, he's in a better place right now, if it'll help you, Sam - these stupid questions repeating all.the.damn.time

The smallest coffin in the world lay before him. Sam stood frozen, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, fingers trembling, digging into his skin back and forth to stop the escaping tears

He couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye.

Instead, he knelt on the damp ground and pressed his forehead against the coffin’s edge, letting his tears stream down his face

“You were my everything, kid,” he whispered brokenly. “My little dude. My Sam Junior.”

His voice cracked as he choked out, “I hope—" he took a shaky breath, as if he was choking on his own emotion "I hope I was enough for you. I tried, bud. I really tried... But hell, I don’t know how to do this without you.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out Vinnie’s favorite toy—a small, battered Hot Wheels car. He placed it gently on the coffin. “Take it with you, okay? You’ll need something to play with up there.”

Sam couldn’t bring himself to leave until his mother gently tugged him back, her arms wrapped tightly around his shaking frame.

Grief consumed Sam every day. He rarely spoke, barely ate. The world felt like it had lost its color, unless it was drugs he took in. Yet, the pleasure of being free was only temporary. And now, he was a teenage dad who had loved too deeply, and now, he had nothing left on this earth what was truly his.

Sometimes, very rarely (because it was too painful to even look at the grave of his favorite little man for over a second), went back to visit you, and Vinnie - his heart screaming when he saw the love of his life laying right next to the boy she had never had the chance to meet

“I’ll see you again, buddy. I promise. Take care of your mom up there. Tell her I miss her too.”

And in the quietest moments, when the tears wouldn’t come anymore, Sam would close his eyes and imagine Vinnie’s and your laugh, holding onto it as tightly as he could - believing he'd see you both again after the main life - here on this earth

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @rssmary @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @r0b-in

(if you don't want to be on the tag list of want to be added, don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[dilf-docs]

Drunk In Love

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

summary: you don't exactly hate your job as bartender. well, sometimes, like when customers who can't take a no show up. your boyfriend decides to take matters into his hands, or better said, tentacles...

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (ofc), a bit of angst, smut, rough sex??, exhibition kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering, jealous!eddie puts on a show, venom's tongue slurping ur clit like a caprisun, reader gets harrased (is this like a norm for my eddie fics??? lmao)

word count: 3,884 words

side note: this lil' baby is based on this request. that being said, my reqs are still open! keep the suggestions up i say 🗣🔥🔥especially those with classic tropes, cause i'm a deep sucker for them jealousy fics fr most when they get possesive lolz this is me placing my input here *smoothly slides card to the front of the table* ENJOY

If you were to ask your 9 year old self what she wanted to be, she'd tell you an actress. Never a bartender, and most certainly, never the girlfriend of an alien symbiote.

Turns out, life has more on storage of what you expected, certainly. Things haven't gone in the way your kid brain had planned, and going back to the bartender thing, it's one of those things that hasn't been the way you wanted it.

And it isn't the job, really. Over the years, you've grown fond of the drinks you know like the palm of your hand and the scene that occurs behind the bar. Besides, it pays the bills, and there's something comforting in witnessing night engulf the sky, just for the sun to rise again as you're back on your apartment. You're an owl, which really is just how Eddie, your boyfriend, likes to call you with affection.

What hasn't changed and still bothers you after all this years is the people.

It's not like you're an introvert, but crowds aren't really your thing, which is quite the contradiction given the job. The problem lies not on your frequent customers or those who come looking for a good time, but on those who don't know how to take "no" as an answer: most recently, this guy, who won't leave no matter how many times you've told and showed him already.

And it's the wost kind: they don't bother for the drinks, rather the person serving them; and he's been at it for hours, not taking the hint from the one-sided conversation he's been having all this time.

"Hey" the customer speaks again, your back facing him. "So, I want something" he makes a little pause, "but it's not on the menu"

You use a little more force than necessary while cleaning the glass you're holding, "tell me what you want and I'll see what I can do"

He chuckles, and when you finally face him, he seems pleased.

"I want you"

"Too bad" you turn around again, "can't help you then".

"Playing hard to get, I see" you'd think after at least two hours being ignored, he would stop, but he only seems to still not get the cue. "It's fine, I like it this way"

You decide not to add anything, focusing on this drinks for table #2, but he keeps adding comments that drip in annoying drops until your glass of patience overflows.

"C'mon, sugar" he nudges playfully, "spare me a glance, would ya'?"

You scoff, resting your arms on the bar. "If I give you a free drink, would you let me do my job?"

Clearly a mistake, as his hands travel to touch your skin, making it prickle like it burns.

"Still don't get it? The only thing I want is you"

Eddie wanted to surprise you. After some time dating you, he thinks he deserves some credit on to how much he truly knows you; you'd argue he knows you even more than you know yourself.

He knows your small quirks, like the small frown in your lips when you feel sad. He also knows by heart your breathy shrugs, the intricacy of your blinking, the flinch you often do because you get easily scared, and also, how much you hate tuesdays, which is why he's here. Whenever he's free, he drops by, trying to make your night shift a little less difficult. You'd never voiced it out, but he sees it in the way your eyes sparkle when you catch him in the crowd, coming your way, or in the efforts he makes to keep you entertained, your lips curving up in a beautiful smile.

"We are going to see y/n!" chirps Venom in his head, and Eddie can't help but feel a little off at his amount of excitement. "Oh, don't be jealous, Eddie. She sees me as a pet! Still, I like her" he says as Eddie gets inside.

The immediate smell of the alcohol stench place hits him, making him nauseous.

"I hate this place!" Venom agrees, "we should all escape!"

"And get y/n in trouble?" He scoffs, speaking over the music. People don't hear him as he walks by, which helps, since it looks like he's speaking to himself. "Sorry, but I won't be the reason she's gonna loose this job"

"Pussy! You're no fun"

Eddie ignores him as he walks towards you. It isn't until he's almost there, that he notices you're not alone.

"Who's that?" Venom asks.

"I have no idea, buddy" he then notices the proximity, his skin immediately on fire. Not like he's a jealous guy, but never say never.

"He's close to her!" Venom shouts. No shit, thinks Eddie. "We should eat him!"

"He isn't touching her" he butts. Yet, pops the grimy thought up. "Besides, is eating people all you ever think about?" he whisper shouts.

"Yes!" Venom doesn't seem not even a bit embarrassed, "especially bad guys. Like that one"

Eddie is reasonable, he thinks. Feelings like jealousy or possesiveness aren't on his book, yet, seeing the man that doesn't leave you alone, something ugly inside of him burns.

"You judge me, but I know you want the same" he's inciting Eddie, who is angrier than ever. But he doesn't cave in, counts to ten, and breathes in and out, even if he has sped up his walking.

I'm rational. I'm rational. I'm rational.

"Liar" Venom whispers. "You want to kill him"

"Not yet" he can't let his feelings get the best of him, "I can't put y/n in danger so you get some brains. If we do a mess like the ones in Mrs. Chen's store, she'll be fired"

He's being the bigger person here. Eddie just wants you to feel proud of who he is (the lethal protector), and not like you're dating a man child. It happened once (Anne being dissapointed in him, which is worse), and he's not willing to let it happen again. So he'll be polite and politely shove him out of your sight.

At least that's what he thinks until the guy touches you.

"The fuck-"

"Now we're talking!" Venom senses the anger radiating from Eddie, and decides to fire him up, "let's get his brains!"

You're so deep in your shit you don't notice when Eddie walks towards you, his perfume invading your nostrils. In a way, it brings a bit of comfort to your situation.

"Excuse me" his gravely voice goes. Fuck, how you love the sound; you can even feel the nerves going down. It's not like you're a helpless damsel in distress, but sometimes, even if you hate it, a man is needed. Eddie is very much needed now.

"Yes?" the man turns around, and he swears he's screaming when he notices the man is still touching you.

"I'd appreciate if you did me a favor, you see, it's very simple" his tone dripping in venom (hehe), "get your hands off her. Now"

It's stupid, really, how your panties twist at the demading tone, waves of possesivenss radiating off him, considering the situation you're in.

"Why? Are you her guard or something?" he challenges.

"Boyfriend" he spats out.

That would've been enough: at least for a normal person. But some have proven to have worms for brains, like him. Because, even when you've expressed your clear discomfort and Eddie is there, the man doesn't seem the slightlest intimidated, not backing off, by not even a centimeter. All this is very stupid really, and it's testing your patience like it never has in almost three decades alive.

"Yeah?" he stoods up to Eddie, and he's even slightly taller. But Eddie and his strong arms don't back off.

"Yeah" he challenges. God, how you hate men.

"Please, don't make a mess" you beg to no one in particular, because Eddie may be a rational man, but today, all in his eyes are a fury you'd never seen before.

"For your own good, I'm giving you a chance to back off" he threats.

"And what are you gonna do?" he bumps against Eddie's smaller yet built frame, "can't do much, can you?"

The music is on, but it's like it's stopped. All the people have started to stare, and you just want earth to swallow you. The initial wave of arousal is starting to wash away, making you wonder if it's all Eddie's macho ways, Venom or both.

"Eddie, don't" you warn, but it's over: the distraction of your voice makes Eddie turn, and the guy's fist slams across his face, all the regret leaving Eddie's face.

"It's on" he says in a distorted voice.

And it's off for you.

Venom takes over Eddie, the black engulfing his body. People around gasp, and a few do recognize the so-called lethal protector of San Francisco.

"I said" now he towers over him, by various centimeters "...back off"

Punches get thrown, and if you thought he'd cower in fear, the guys tries to fight him off. Some people leave amidst the chaos, and others stay to watch it. How can you take control? Not only is he causing a show, but so is Venom, all rational thoughts flying out of the window.

"Eddie!" you plead, "stop it!"

Your voice falls deaf on his ear. Why doesn't he stop? Eddie thinks he should be scared by now, but he's still fighting. Isn't he scary enough? Isn't he strong enough? Why is he still fighting? He can't loose this fight. No, Venom can't loose this fight.

"You'll pay, scum" he growls, "nobody messes with my girl"

Oh, alright. He got you there; that was kinda hot.

When you get back to your senses, the guy is on the floor, his nose bleeding.

"Eddie, that's enough!" but he ignores you, "Venom!" you try again. Nothing, just alien and guy fighting.

"Have you still learned nothing?"

"Wait!" he shouts, terrified. Nothing like the guy from before, who couldn't take a no, "I'll stop!"

"Good" Venom growls threatening. "I hope you've learned your lesson, asshole" now on Eddie's voice.

The guy scurries away, cowering in fear.

"Alright" you clap your hands, "showtime is over"

You've had enough for today. Really, your hate for tuesdays is justified: an asshole who wouldn't leave you alone, and your boyfriend and his alien pet (derogatory; hey, you're mad!) ruining your day by trying to save it.

"Hey" Eddie's soft voice sounds from behind, "are you okay?"

You laugh, bitterly. "Oh, I don't know. Let's see: a guy harrased me and my boyfriend just fucked up my only income"

His face falls, and you feel a bit bad, yet you can't help it: your nerves are on edge, and your boss not only happens to know you but Eddie too, given all his visits. That means, he sees the cameras and goodbye to your ass, no matter how much you tried to stop it.

This job helps you pay college and your bills. You're fucked: these men's mess will drag you along. Your boss is strict, and the bar reputation will go first: it's a bar, not a brawl. You already hear their stern voice, scolding you (worse) for shit you didn't do.

You start walking away, back to your spot behind the bar. You sigh, deeply: maybe it's the last time you'll ever be there.

"Wait, y/n!" Eddie calls back. The music is going strong and the crowd has long gone, but you know there are still eyes on you. All you want is to curl in bed and cry: you're sad, mad, tired and horny. The week's just getting started: it's not fair.

"What?"

He's taken back by your dry tone; you've never been like this with him. He remembers Anne and their break up, his stomach churning in fear. "Have we fucked up?" asks Venom, but Eddie is too afraid to ask.

"I was trying to help" his voice comes out small, helpless. Funny considering who he is: alien-human symbiote and fearless reporter.

"What does help mean to you? Playing superhero?" you spit. "You'll get me in trouble, Eddie. This job is all I have, yet you seemed to care more about putting a show than me"

"It's not like that!" he argues back, "I was trying to protect you!"

"I know!" you shout, some heads turning around. "I know" you repeat, this time lower, "it's just hard to tell when it's about me, and when it was about you" you confess. Eddie feels bad when he sees your teary eyes, "I don't want you to think I'm angry that you helped me: that guy was scary, and I needed help. I'm just... it's a lot, you know? I thank you for saving me, but I can't thank you for letting your ego take the best of you" you let out a shaky breath. "I want you to know that there are consequences, Eddie, and what started as a noble act ended up hurting me too. Almost like you forgot why you did it in the first place. It was about helping me: for me- Not to, I don't know, prove something..."

He understands, knowing his emotions got the best of him.

"I'm sorry" he rests against the bar, "I know I lost control; you're right. I wanted to help you, talking my way out, like I always do. But then he touched you, and I-, I froze. I hated seeing him touching you, and some jealousy got me there too..." he's ashamed to confess but does anyway, "I don't know... I kinda did also feel a bit... bruised" you're confused, an eyebrow quirking. "Alright, fine. You want me to say it? I will! I felt dumb, you know? That a douchebag like that didn't feel intimidated by me: not first, not second. I didn't know if it was me, that I lost my... well, abilities? My charm? I don't know how to explain it, but that guy was getting on my nerves. It's like-"

"Like he's stupid, Eddie. He's a hard headed idiot who kept fighting an alien symbiote for no reason: despite the disadvantage, despite people watching him loose" you reason, "you can't find logic on something without it. I've already made my peace with it"

"Maybe he was drunk" he ponder, "or high..."

"Or just dumb" you breathe. "You know? Let's stop. I want to enjoy my last day here, definitely not talking about the guy who was harrasing me minutes ago, and also, is the reason I'll loose this job"

"Alright, I'll shut up" Eddie gives up, then "I'm sorry, by the way"

You give up too, "it's okay"

"She won't leave us for this?" Venom asks. Eddie tells you and you laugh. "No, but it's your first strike"

There's some silence, the quiet sipping and chatting of the people sitting close to you, the music now a background white noise for the chaos of your mind and feelings.

"I'm still mad, you know" you drop. He looks up at you, his brown eyes colored in a dark shadow of something dangerous.

"I can make it up to you"

You know that voice. Is he thinking...?

"No" you say hastily.

"The worst already happened..." he starts, voice dropping low.

"We live in a world where superheroes and powers exist. There is always, something worst" you reason.

"Not today, baby" he gets close to your ear, his hot breathe tickling your lobe. "What do you say?"

"Eddie" you warn, but the urge to give in is so bad. It's been a while since the last time you and Eddie were intimate: lack of time, exhaustion and other factors playing a part in cock blocking you both.

"Eddie what?" he mocks, "tell me you don't want it, and I'll stop"

What if you leave the bar unattended? What if you succumb? What if one of the stalls has two people inside, even if forbidden?

"I knew you wanted it" he gasps against your skin. His soft lips kiss along your jaw, his hair brushing your face. His smell always makes you intoxicated, and in the reduced space, the dizziness is excruciating. His hand tightens around your waist, and he looks you deep into your eyes when he says:

"I know I fucked up, baby. So let me help: you won't do anything, just me"

He slams your body against the wall of the stall, which is unhygienic and against the bar norms, but really, why do you care?

"Just wanna taste you, baby" he kisses you again, full of your flavor on his lips. Your gloss coats them in a pink sticky layer, "missed you so much"

It’s shameful for him to admit how easy he seems to fall at your feet: how much he is willing to beg for forgiveness. But he can give and not receive, not having a problem with it; it's the least he can do for you, and you deserve it.

Yet you return his kisses with full hunger, your hands digging in his cheeks, pressing on the skin while diving to his neck, nipping on his sensitive spots. His hold becomes stronger, looking at you with a need so primal it dampens your folds.

"I need you to do something with this" he motions the bottom of your uniform, "be a good girl, yeah? And take this off"

Once your tights are bare and the pants are over his shoulders, he gets to see your sticky panties on their full glory.

"Fuck..." he mutters hazily.

He tears the panties down, while his knee gets his way in the middle of your tights, parting them.

You tug at his jacket, pulling him closer to you, making his knee crash against the wall of the stall.

"If you wanna taste so bad" God, you sound so demanding and it's driving him nuts, "don't keep me waiting, pretty boy"

He hovers over you, kissing you hungrily.

"I'm sorry, won't happen again" he kneels down, breathe hot and close to your puffy folds.

"If you want to fix it, then fucking do so" your hands went to his hair as you felt his teeth lightly press into your thights, sucking and tugging when needed.

"Eddie" you whine, feeling his tongue trail, taunting you, his hands circling around your thighs, the mocking flick of his tongue putting you on edge. Your folds drip, reacting to him.

"Let me help this pretty cunt, yeah?" and there's a sudden swipe at your clit by his long tongue.

You claw your nails into his scalp; the tight grip has his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he let himself get lost in the taste of your pussy.

Long forgotten is the teasing, as Eddie lets his mouth fall open, pressing his starving mouth against your wet heat. His tongue kisses between your folds, finding your hot needy clit.

"Right there..." you let out a shaky breath, hips slowly bucking into his face.

His teeth graze softly the plushy skin of your pussy, knowing how sensitive you get.

"Eddie" you plead, "more"

He lets out something that sounds like a huh, pleasant vibrations against your core.

"Deeper" you mewl, "now"

"Let me try, Eddie" Venom's voice sounds inside his head, "I want to apologize too" he's about to argue but he adds, "Besides, you promised I was going to eat. I'm hungry"

Even in the dark of the bathroom, you can see black cover the front of Eddie's face, nesting in between your legs. You let out a yelp when his now longer muscle gets again inside your bud, a failed suppressed moan escaping your lips.

Brock sucks your clit into his mouth, lips wrapped around tight walls while his tongue swiped against the tip. He began a repetition of that, and when you let out a weak cry, he knows he's found your weak spot, sucking your labia into his mouth, making you press your back hard onto the wall, pushing until it starts to hurt.

"Eddie" you softly moan his name, fingers tugging at his hair roughly.

He doesn't pull his mouth from the feast, instead, his ministrations grow rougher. He lets go of the support he has on your thigh and wanders to your pussy, his fingers touching your labia. The trail is dangerously close to your entrance, his fingers get coated with the taste of you. Without thinking, he takes them to his mouth, pupils blown wide.

"So sweet" he praises, longue slicky tongue tasting your leak. Your body was filled by pleasure, coming to its peak when Brock presses his long middle finger into your needy cunt.

"That's it" he kisses your now trembling muscles (how long have you been standing?), sending butterflies to your chest. He's really earning that pardon, isn't he? Eddie is really making it hard to keep mad at him, and Venom isn't helping. "Cum for me, darling"

You whine as he pushes a second finger in. "Are you sounding louder in purpose, babe? Do you want them to find us and see what I'm doing to you? How just my mouth and fingers fuck you up? What a whore you are, fucking in a public restroom?"

You let out another loud whimper that barely gets muffled by the music coming from outside, defiant.

"I'm already fired" you pant, "I don't fucking care"

He feels it; he knows you too much: moving upwardward past your pubic bone, easily finding that soft sensitive spot of yours. Your folds clench around his fingers, Eddie knowing you're close. So now he's back to just being him (he's still warm on his chest for all those jealous feelings from before; no more sharing), his plushy lips around your clit while he thrusts into the wet sweet spot.

Your legs tense, and before you know it, you slam against the wall, arching your back as you shake with release, "Fuck!"

Your juices coat all his fingers, and without thinking he tastes again, licking the release in a rather whore-ish way. "Mm, Venom was right: sweet"

You try to catch your breath and come to understand what had just happened: you just fucked in the bathroom of your soon to be ex-job. Jesus.

Eddie gets closer to kiss you again, cupping your face, but his fingers are still wet. Without thinking, you take them into your mouth and lick your own release off him, mirroring his sensual lick movements from before, all while mantaining eye contact.

"You're gonna be the death of me" he confesses without thinking, his eyes swimming between something dark and soft.

You suck on them with your cheeks hollowed in. His breath hitches, "does this mean I'm forgiven?"

You laugh, throwing your name tag on the trash bin next to you.

"Yes" his mouth falls open, and before he says anything, you're cutting him with a kiss, still as hungry as in the beginning, to Eddie's surprise. Of course: your age says it all. "And you're next"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif (unknown pinterest source)