#just be grateful and think about these things that's all

[wintrbears]

Cradle Robbers: The Third Trimester | JJK

Summary: Everything feels different after having the worst scare of your life, but your baby's due date is fast approaching and there's still plenty more important things to do than rifle through your ever-growing feelings for Jungkook. He certainly doesn't make it easy on you when he's constantly sweeping you off your feet.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Pregnancy AU, Childhood Friends to FWB to Lovers, Slow-Burn, Smut, Fluff, Crack, Angst (barely, you have to squint to see it)

Word Count: 24.9k+

Warnings: pregnancy, childbirth, water breaking, talks of bodily fluids, blood, blood transfusion, mentions of dizziness, anxiety, surprises, gifts, alcohol, thunderstorms, hospitals, doctors, nurses, scrubs, wheelchairs, crying, screaming, extreme physical pain, airplanes. SMUT: kissing, cuddling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, big dick jk!!!, oral sex (m receiving), doggy, dick riding, titty play, lactation kink, making out in the shower, cream pie, grinding, hair pulling, choking, manhandling, ok I think that might be it!

Author's Note: I actually cannot believe the final chapter is here. the amount of love I've received from this story is so overwhelming and it makes me unbelievably happy that you guys love these two as much as I do. here's to an epic conclusion for our couple and their beautiful baby! if you’ve given birth and see any inaccuracies pls just look the other way lol. also, to the anon that asked me about a lactation kink and I said no... I promise I'm not a liar you just inspired me to add one. thank you all so much for all the support. enjoy, my lovely readers :)

-> Cradle Robbers Masterpost

SEVEN

You sincerely hope your fellow grocery shoppers don’t see you with six bottles of wine balancing on your baby bump and think you’re a monster. It obviously isn’t for you, but stranger things have happened and you have no control over what these people may think of you. 

The sole reason you’re purchasing copious amounts of alcohol is because it’s wine night, and tonight is the inaugural gathering at your house. The girls are all unbelievably excited to see the illustrious home, including the partially decorated nursery they’ve only seen via video call.

It’s since been painted a neutral beige color with an adorable cat and dog mural on the wall behind the crib. More artwork occupies the remaining walls, including a set of picture frames containing photos of you and Jungkook from childhood until now. The furniture’s all been built at this point, although some of it still needs to be placed and secured to the wall. The ample supply of stuffed animals provided by none other than your baby’s father reside in a hammock above the rocking chair. 

Jungkook will be at Namjoon’s tonight along with the other guys so you can have the place to yourselves, which you’re grateful for since it wouldn’t be very conducive to conversation if a central topic of your gossip is present. He certainly doesn’t need his ego stroked by you enthusiastically retelling the girls about all your wild sexual encounters. 

Visually taking stock of your haul, which mostly consists of junk food and wine, you mentally run through your shopping list one last time before heading to the checkout. The employee scanning your items looks surprised when she glances between your belly and the wine collection, but thankfully doesn’t comment on the questionable items. She informs you of the total and you tap Jungkook’s black card against the machine. Once you hear the familiar chime, you thank the woman and steer your cart towards the parking lot.

A recent development of your pregnancy is that you began your third and final trimester by quitting your job, hence why you’re paying for groceries with Jungkook’s card and not your own.

It’s been on the table for a while now, with you and Jungkook discussing it here and there over the last couple months. After crunching the numbers, the two of you mutually agreed it’s for the best. Since your salary is astronomically smaller than Jungkook’s, you would lose more money paying for childcare than by removing your salary from the equation altogether. 

Being a stay-at-home mom was never the plan, even when you were younger, but now that you’re pregnant, the idea is more appealing than ever. Not only do you want to be present for all the special moments of their childhood, but Jungkook is loaded and there’s no reason to pay for a nanny or daycare when he can care for you financially while you take care of things at home. 

Truthfully, it’s been difficult depending on him, not because he makes it so, but because you still feel guilty using his money. Your last paycheck was about two weeks ago, so you’re exclusively using his funds and the first time you tapped his card against the machine you nearly bit your lip off. On the flip side, Jungkook’s been profusely scolding you for refusing to go on a huge spending spree with his no limit credit card. 

He’s been continuously sending you links to buy expensive jewelry, clothes, and handbags, and threatens to buy them for you himself if you don’t run his bank account dry soon. It’s the first time in his life you’ve given him the go ahead to support you in that way and he’s adamant about you taking advantage of the opportunity. 

Ironically, the only thing you’ve bought other than essentials is a gift for him. 

Last week his gaming headset snapped in half when Bam decided they were a perfect seat. Jungkook was rightfully distraught and refused to look his beloved pet in the eye for the remainder of the evening. Determined to mend their relationship, you went out the following morning to buy him the latest and greatest. 

When you presented him the gift, Jungkook lifted you so far above his head in excitement you feared hitting the ceiling. Despite his own bank account decreasing, the thoughtfulness of your act sent him over the moon with joy. He attacked you with kisses once your feet met the ground again, and you had to pry him off you before your lips turned purple. 

Independence is a key character trait of yours, so this new lifestyle is definitely an adjustment, but it would be a lie to say it doesn’t feel just a little bit nice using a card that doesn’t have your own name on it. 

During your drive home, the contact image of Jungkook positively cheesing next to your most recent ultrasound photo appears on the dashboard screen. Your heart does an involuntary flip at the sight, and you press the green answer button just as the car turns down your street.

“Hey, baby.”

Despite his usage of a pet name, Jungkook sounds exasperated, and maybe slightly annoyed, when the phone connects.

“Koo? Is everything alright?”

“No, Bams,” he admits begrudgingly. “There’s a leak under the kitchen faucet. It’s pretty bad. I don’t think we can have the girls over tonight, but I already called the Blue Lagoon Lounge and booked a room for you guys. The drinks and food are all paid for already. So, text the girls to let them know and have fun, okay?”

“What? Jungkook, are you sure? If the leak isn’t going to take more than a couple hours I can just tell the girls to come later.”

“No, no,” Jungkook says. “Just go enjoy yourself and I’ll take care of this. I don’t want your night to be cut short at all. The reservation is under Jeon.”

“Alright,” you mumble. “Love you, talk to you soon.”

“Love you more, Bambi, I’ll see you soon.”

You voice-to-text your group chat to reiterate the news and your friends are downright ecstatic about having access to unlimited free food and drinks. 

In fact, the last text to ping your phone from Tzuyu reads: “thank you so fucking much for getting knocked up by a sexy millionaire. I owe you my life.” The three other members of the chat heart react the message. 

When you arrive at the restaurant, you look down and mentally congratulate yourself on already being dressed in your attire for the evening. It’s unusually warm for this time of year, so you’re in a floral tea-length dress with your hair up. Your friend group doesn’t normally get dolled up for these occasions, but Mina is finally ready to reacclimate herself to the dating scene and suggested a mini photoshoot for your choice of entertainment tonight. 

The Blue Lagoon Lounge is massive, with a full dining room, smaller private suites, and large banquet halls in the back. Upon telling the hostess the name, she leads you through a couple of winding hallways and rooms. She gestures towards a pair of double doors once you reach your destination and you gaze at her inquisitively, wondering if she got the room right. Sensing your confusion, she nods to reaffirm her guidance and steps aside so you can enter. 

The moment your feet cross the threshold, the eruption of sound from inside the room makes you jump in shock.

“SURPRISE!” 

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as your jaw falls open.

All of your friends and family are scattered around the large room which overlooks the river on the edge of your city. The multitude of round tables which occupy the space are decorated beautifully with white, purple, and yellow flowers along with gorgeous fine china place settings. There’s a liberal sized bar along the back wall and an even bigger buffet table in the corner closest to you.  

When your surveying eyes land on Jungkook, who's standing with your friends beside the grand, floor length windows, he smirks and wiggles his phone in accomplishment. 

“You little liar!” 

“I did good, right?”

“Yes, which is concerning because you’re a terrible liar,” you say while approaching them.

“Oh, don’t worry, he needed plenty of coaching,” Mina states.

“We went over the script four times,” Nayeon mentions.

“And my hands still shook!” Jungkook responds before holding his hand up to show you it twitching. 

You clasp the appendage between your own and kiss his knuckles, pulling him into you for a tight embrace. He laughs heartily as his arms latch around you, tugging you up against him until your heels lift from the floor. His hand holds the nape of your neck while you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper to him. “This is amazing.”

“I didn’t do anything besides pay for it, Bambi. Your friends did all this,” he tells you. 

“Uh, see, now he’s getting a little too good at lying,” Tzuyu says from behind you. “It was his idea, Y/N.”

You reluctantly depart from his warmth, but lace your fingers together while you stand side by side.

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head modestly. “I mentioned it once in passing and you guys took it from there.”

“So humble, JK,” Jihyo clicks her tongue disapprovingly. 

Hugging the girls one by one, you thank them for sacrificing a wine night for your surprise baby shower before moving throughout the room to greet everyone else who came to celebrate you.

Jungkook follows closely behind with a hand on your lower back, thanking everyone for coming with an adorable bow of his head. He does it so much that at one point you place your hand beneath his chin to stop him so he doesn’t get a headache. 

Your parents are last, but of course not least, and you don’t miss the way your moms make eye contact with matching cheshire grins when they notice where Jungkook’s hand resides. 

The six of you exchange hugs and your mom holds your hands afterwards, excitedly shaking them in the air. 

“Oh sweetie, weren’t you so surprised?” She asks.

“Yes! It was the last thing I was expecting, but I’m so grateful everyone came,” you answer her.

“You’re glowing, sweetpea,” your dad comments.

Once the greetings are complete, everyone moseys around grabbing drinks and placing their gifts on the long table at the front of the room. You join Jungkook at the bar to grab his drink, which he thrice pretends to hand you before pulling it back with an annoyingly cute giggle. Rolling your eyes, you take his hand and lead him to the little sweetheart table at the very center of the wall of windows which faces the rest of the room.

Before tables are dismissed one by one to grab food from the buffet, Jihyo stands and clinks a fork against her glass to garner everyone’s attention. 

“Hi everyone, for those who don’t know me, I’m Jihyo. I want to say a little something before we eat and celebrate the amazing woman sitting at the front of the room.” She beckons towards you with her hands and the sound of everyone’s cheers turns your face bright red. “Y/N is the most loving, caring, wonderful soul I’ve ever known and although it wasn’t planned,” she purposely whispers the last word, sending a wave of laughter across the room. “I am absolutely certain she’ll be the most amazing mother the world has ever known. I love you so much, babe, and I can’t wait to meet your little one.” 

She raises her glass for a toast, and you parrot the act with your virgin mimosa. 

“I believe the little one’s daddy also has something he’d like to say?”

Jungkook’s eyes go wide, his hand pointing to his chest in surprise, clearly not expecting the spotlight. Jihyo nods encouragingly and shoots him a double thumbs up as she takes her seat. Always one for a challenge, Jungkook cracks his neck, clicks his tongue, and clears his throat before standing with his drink in hand. 

“Hello,” Jungkook says quietly while fidgeting with his shirt collar. “I’m fairly certain everyone here knows me, since you can’t really know Bambi without knowing me, too.” He taps his fingers against his glass as he ponders his next move. “I, um…” You squeeze his hand where it rests on his thigh and a smile creeps onto his face, his eyes briefly catching your supportive gaze. “Jihyo’s right, this wasn’t planned, not even a little bit, but it was without a doubt the best surprise of my life.” 

Jungkook’s ears go red to match the blush painting his cheeks. 

“I’m so incredibly thankful to call her my best friend and the mother of my child. I know I’ll never be able to repay her for everything she’s going through to bring our little one into the world. Her body and mind have been through hell and I’ve spent my entire life chasing away whatever may bring her pain and sorrow, so it’s been really challenging to feel so helpless. But she handles everything so beautifully, with so much grace and understanding, and I grow more in awe of her with every passing day.” 

He takes a deep breath and faces you with his glass held high. 

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Bams, and there’s nothing you deserve more than to be celebrated for everything you do and will do in the future as a mother. I love you more than words can describe, Y/N.”

You gasp, your hands slapping against your mouth as tears immediately threaten your waterline. It’s been nearly two decades since the last time you heard the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, and you don’t think the syllables have ever sounded so beautiful. 

Jungkook smiles devilishly at the exact reaction he was hoping to pull from you. 

Your head falls forward as you cry into your palms, the kindhearted words from both him and Jihyo making your heart clench from all the love it’s receiving. Jungkook returns to his seat to console you, letting you cry on his shoulder instead. 

“You said my name,” you whimper.

The sound of his low chuckle meets your ears.

“Don’t get used to it, Bambi.”

He places multiple kisses between the strands of your hair and wipes the remaining tears away after you raise your head. If you weren’t currently surrounded by loved ones, you’d kiss him senseless and probably drop to your knees if you’re being totally honest.

When you glance around the room after falling back into your chair with a sigh, you notice your mom dabbing her waterline with a tissue while his mom reapplies the makeup under her eyes. You giggle and nudge Jungkook to show him, and he joins in your adoration of the two women with a loving shake of his head. 

Following dinner, your four friends run a series of typical baby shower games, some of which are guessing games while others require basic baby knowledge. 

You barely partake in the festivities yourself, too busy goofing off with Jungkook as he writes the most incorrect answers imaginable. The two of you laugh hysterically through every question as if you’re the only ones present, despite being the sole reason for the celebration.

An executive decision is made to open gifts at home rather than have everyone watch you ooh and aww at baby trinkets for an hour. It’s far more appealing to you to walk around and mingle with your loved ones, which is precisely what you do after dessert. 

“It’s the woman of the hour!” Yunjin cheers as you place yourself on Chaewon’s lap and rest your head on her shoulder.

“Thank you guys so much for coming,” you tell them.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hoseok states.

“We’re so happy for you, Y/N, and we’re so excited to be aunts and uncles,” Namjoon says.

“Also, are you and Jungkook like… a thing, because eyes don’t lie and that man is googoo gaga for you,” Eunchae asks. 

“And it’s not like you’re any better,” Yoongi adds.

You nibble on your lip as your eyes peruse the room and land on Jungkook’s silhouette standing beside your dads. 

“No, at least, not officially, but something’s definitely changed recently,” you answer honestly.

“How so?” Jin asks.

“You guys know how we went through that awful miscarriage scare last month?” They all nod. “Well, ever since then it feels like the energy’s shifted. Neither of us have said anything, but I know we both feel it. I mean, I’ve slept in his bed every night since, we constantly kiss outside of sexual activities, and we’ve started casually calling each other baby.”

“Oh, so you guys are like, in love love,” Jimin states.

“I don’t know,” you respond. “He’s always taken up nearly my entire heart, but I’m still figuring out if he’s finally got a monopoly on it or not.”

“Y/N, honey, you said so yourself you’ve never been happier,” Chaewon notes. “Don’t overthink it.”

You flash her a grateful smile as a thank you for her advice before telling them you’ll see them later and going to converse with your other guests.  

At one point, you realize you haven’t seen Taehyung or Mina in a while and do a once over of the room. When you spot them cuddled up in the back corner giggling to each other, you smirk. They hooked up once a few years ago before Mina started dating Mingyu, and you would be more than happy to see them rekindle their affair.

You catch Jungkook’s attention from across the room and point to them as nonchalantly as possible. When his eyes land on them, they light up and he makes a proud OK sign with his hand. 

Some people stay for a while and others wish you good luck with the delivery before sunset, but by the time Jungkook is done loading all the presents in your dad’s truck, only your parents remain.  

“Oh, shit, I don’t have a car,” Jungkook states when he returns for a final sweep of the room. “I drove over here with Tzuyu.”

It wouldn’t normally be an issue since you and him could drive home together, but for storage purposes your parents are taking the gifts home and he has to follow behind your dad to help bring them inside. 

“Just take my car and I’ll go with my mom,” you suggest.

Everyone exchanges goodbyes and you tell Jungkook you’ll see him later at home. He bends down to kiss your cheek after you hug him, and it forces you to hide a radiant blush crawling up your face and neck.

It’s familiar being in the passenger seat of your mom’s car, although it's been a while. She drives through the city towards your house with the radio on low, but you can already tell she’s itching to speak.

“Sweetie, you know you can tell me anything, right?” Sensing where this is going, you inhale exasperatedly. “No, don’t give me excuses. I know you’ve been keeping things from me because you don’t want me to get my hopes up.”

You sit back in your seat, your arms crossing over each other. 

“It’s just not any of your business, Mom,” you tell her.

“I don’t need to know everything, especially that stuff, but I can tell you have a lot on your mind. And I know something is going on. I see the way you look at him and how he looks at you. It’s not the same as it was before.” She squeezes your thigh lovingly. “Just talk to me, sweetheart.”

“There… there isn’t much to say.” She sends a disapproving glance in your direction. “Okay, yeah, maybe things have changed, but I don’t know in what way yet. I think we’re both happy with the way things are and don’t feel a need to label it or discuss it. Maybe once the baby’s born, we will.”

“Are you alright with that? You usually tell Jungkook everything the very moment it enters your mind.”

“It’s different this time. I’m not afraid to tell him or worry I’ll get rejected, but it just feels like we’re in this perfect bubble of joy and love and I don’t want to pop it.”

“What if it doesn’t pop, though? What if it makes the bubble even stronger?”

You toss her words around in your mind, nodding your head as your brain parses through the information.

“That would be nice.”

“I’m not trying to pressure you, sweetie, and I don’t want you to ever take my feelings into account when yours are the only ones that matter, but I want all the happiness in the world for you and that boy is heaven sent.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile. “He is. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“That would be me,” she proudly reminds you. 

You laugh with your head thrown back. And to think, the only reason you’re all here today is because their university randomly assigned them to be roommates. 

She drops you off at home with a hug and kiss on your cheek. Once inside, you hear Usagi meowing in annoyance at someone and when you round the corner, you see Jungkook rolling her back and forth on the couch as though she’s a furry rolling pin. He merely giggles at her indignation and attacks her little head with kisses. 

“Leave my daughter alone, will you?”

“Hey, she’s my daughter, too,” Jungkook retorts with a pout. When he turns over his shoulder to see you, the pout’s long gone and been replaced by a peaceful smile. “Did you have fun tonight, Bambi?”

He stands to full height and slides his hands into his pockets, still dressed in his attire from the evening sans the sport coat. His poor dress shirt is barely holding on by a thread where it lays across his chest, the buttons holding on for dear life to fit over the contours of his pecs. The slacks he’s wearing aren’t doing much better, with the black fabric stretched tight to accommodate the muscular thighs beneath. It makes both your mouth and pussy water.

“Of course, I did! I can’t thank you enough, Koo,” you say while meeting him by the couch. 

“There’s no need to thank me, baby. You deserve it.”

“Well, I can think of something that you deserve in return,” you propose using the sultry eyes you know he melts for everytime. 

His eyebrows twitch upwards, an anticipatory smile growing as he holds your gaze. Instead of waiting for a reply, your hand shoves at his shoulder to send him tumbling backwards into the couch. Knees automatically spreading wide open for you, you use your leverage on his thighs to kneel before him.

“Bams, you don’t have to,” he tells you, but his hand is already in your hair as you unbuckle his belt. 

“I want to.” You bend down to kiss him over his boxers once his pants are in a puddle around his ankles. “I want to so fucking bad, baby.”

Jungkook moans when your tongue presses down on the fabric and causes his dick to twitch. You quickly pull the garment down his legs and let it fall atop his slacks. He’s already sporting a semi that makes your thighs clench, the sight of his thick cock slowly becoming one of your favorites. 

Pumping him with your hand, you kiss and bite his thick thighs until he’s rock hard and leaking precum down your palm. You lick over his slit with a hungry moan and Jungkook throws his head back against the couch in response. 

“Oh, babygirl, that feels so fucking good.”

His hand becomes a ponytail, pulling all the strands away from your face so you can work unhindered and he has a clear view of you sucking him off. 

Your lips leisurely wrap around his head while you stare into his steadily darkening eyes. When you use suction and torturously swirl your tongue beneath the ridge separating the head from his shaft, Jungkook’s hips buck up involuntarily and you have to hold him still by his thighs. Slowly, all without ever looking away, you sink lower and lower until you’re gagging around him because he’s scratching the back of your throat. 

Jungkook cries out in pleasure, his free hand grasping desperately onto one of yours to give him something to hold onto. 

Swallowing a couple times while he’s buried deep in your throat, you allow a teasingly long moment to pass before finally sticking your tongue out and bobbing your head along his cock. He groans deliriously and his thighs shake as you sloppily work your mouth over him, doing so because you know exactly how much he loves to see the drool spilling from your lips. 

“Good girl, that’s my good fucking girl,” Jungkook praises nonsensically. “Mouth was fucking made for me.”

When you moan around him in agreement, your spit meets his balls below and you use it as an excuse to play with them in your free hand. Jungkook’s jaw clenches and the hand holding yours harshly squishes your digits together. You change gears upon the realization of how worked up the action makes him, sucking one of his balls into your mouth and replacing your tight throat with your hand.

“Oh, Jesus, Bams,” he shouts as you suckle the sensitive skin. 

After languidly curling your tongue around him for a moment, you switch and repeat the treatment for the other one, mirroring the pace of your hand to match the way your tongue works his sack. Returning to the main event, you flatten your tongue along the underside of his shaft until reaching the tip and spitting on him so you can bring him between your lips again.

Unfortunately, you’re only able to take him into your warm throat a few more times before he’s pulling you away by your hair.

You pout and place your hands on your hips.

“Koo, I wanna swallow your cum.”

“Nuh uh, I’m gonna put another fucking baby in you,” he states, his eyes completely overtaken by lust.

Jungkook manhandles you like a ragdoll until you’re face down ass up on the couch with him situated behind you. His hands grab the bottom hem of your dress and flip it upwards to reveal your underwear, which you only realize he rips off of you when you hear the sound of the fabric tearing.

“Koo!”

“Don’t complain when you know I can buy you a thousand more.” His fingers immediately find your pussy to check if you’re wet enough, and when you hear the pleased chuckle from behind you, you know he’s got his answer. “You got this wet just from sucking me off, baby?” 

You nod your head and Jungkook smacks your ass hard enough to leave a mark. 

“Yes!” Jungkook hums in satisfaction and you whine when he soothes the burn with his palm. “Jungkook, baby, please fuck me.”

You compliment your begging by wiggling your ass, and Jungkook moans appreciatively at the sight, his fingers grasping your flesh possessively. He slowly runs his dick along your sopping wet folds and you automatically keen and whimper for more. His movements continue that way for a tauntingly long amount of time, teasing you with just enough to keep you from going crazy. The only relief you’re given is when his tip brushes against your sensitive nub and provides you with delicious friction. 

An angrier version of your prior instruction is about to leave your mouth when Jungkook brutally spears you on his cock. In one single stroke he’s entirely sheathed within your walls and you scream out in ecstasy while your head falls forward. His pace can only be described as goddamn insane, or maybe those are just the only words you can think of when the huge dick ramming into your pussy is making your brain blank.

From behind Jungkook’s tip kisses your cervix with every thrust and you moan without restraint as he monstrously fucks your cunt open. His hand returns to your hair, the other one clutching the back of the couch so he can keep a steady rhythm. You feel his wet balls slapping your clit with every stroke and it makes you bite down on the skin of your hand. 

“Gonna fucking ruin you, Bams,” he warns. “I don’t want you to be able to walk tomorrow, you got that?”

“Fuck, yes,” you agree without a second thought. 

You can stay in bed all day for all you care, all you want is for Jungkook to keep stretching you apart and making you his. You don’t want your pussy to remember any other shape but his cock, want your flesh to memorize every ridge and vein so it knows exactly who’s coming home when he enters you. 

Jungkook was already close when he started fucking you, so he’s doing everything he can for you to reach the same precipice. He repeatedly slams his hips into your ass as he yanks hard enough on your hair that he can almost see your eyes from his position. His hand wraps around your throat, pressing down on your jugular until his fingers leave blotchy, red marks. A second later, he’s forcing you upright until your back meets his chest and he traps you there by looping his other arm beneath your tits. 

The new angle makes you whine pathetically as he buries his dick so deep you feel him in your throat. 

“Baby, holy shit.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook licks the sweat off your neck. “Whose pussy is this, baby?”

“Yours,” you moan weakly.

You would be more than willing to scream from the rooftops just how much your body belongs to him, but you can’t exactly speak very loud when you’re choking on the euphoria he’s providing you.

Coincidentally, your volume isn’t good enough for Jungkook.

“Louder,” he growls right into your ear.

“It’s yours, Jungkook!”

“That’s fucking right.”

His hand leaves your neck after gently constricting your airway to massage your clit instead, pushing two of his fingers into your mouth to lubricate them first. He circles and presses down hard on the nub to make you keen and throw your head back against his shoulder. He utterly devours your neck from behind, his spit coating your skin in a pretty sheen as he moves from one spot to the next. 

You feel his hand disappear from your pussy and whine disapprovingly, but then his middle fingers are sliding into your mouth again so you can suck your juices off his digits. Erotically licking around and between his fingers, you hollow your cheeks and suck so he can feel your tight throat again. 

He groans and bites on your earlobe.

“So good for me, Bambi,” he whispers darkly. “You’re fucking perfect, baby.” 

He removes his fingers from your mouth and they return to your cunt, rubbing your clit in fast circles to get you to where you need to be.

“I’m — fuck. I’m close, Koo.”

“Atta girl. Come on this fat cock,” he commands. 

Jungkook releases you and pushes you down by your shoulder blades, forcing your cheek into the cushions as you arch and match his cadence by thrusting your hips backwards. You scream into the fabric when he speeds up and abuses your hole at a demonic pace. 

The clapping is obscene and deafening, and you’re fairly certain you hear his pans rattling in the kitchen from where they hang down. 

Your climax builds to an impossible level before crashing over you like a tsunami wave of pure pleasure. There’s a combination of drool and tears left behind on the couch cushions. The room goes white when your vision blanks, your legs twitching along with your pussy as the orgasm tears through you and you helplessly sob Jungkook’s name.

The feeling of Jungkook’s seed filling your cunt makes you cry his name repeatedly like a prayer, the sensation of it dripping down your thighs heavenly enough to make your eyesight blur.

Jungkook pants irregularly for a while before pulling out and resting on your back, the two of you toppling down and lying flat against the couch as your bodies return to normalcy. 

“Goddamn, Bambi,” Jungkook huffs. 

“Me?” 

Jungkook just laughs breathlessly, kissing your cheek through the curtain of your hair. 

You remain as deadweight together on the couch until you finally feel whole enough to return to earth, and once you do, you walk hand-in-hand to Jungkook’s bedroom to catch a good night’s sleep.

A couple days later, after you can indeed walk properly again, you’re completing miscellaneous chores around the house while Jungkook finishes securing the furniture in the nursery.

It’s already been an outrageously long day, especially with the weight of your unborn child applying a disastrous amount of pressure on your lower back. Your little one’s recent growth spurt makes it nearly impossible to stand for longer than thirty minutes without reprieve. When Jungkook comes downstairs and notices you rubbing your lower back with one hand while white-knuckling the counter with the other, he rushes to you and replaces your hand with his own to massage your spine.

“Oh, thank you,” you sigh in relief. 

“I got you, babygirl,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder. A moment later he seemingly remembers something, an adorable noise of realization coming from beside you. “Wait, I saw something on the internet I wanted to try.”

“Jungkook, no.”

“No, wait, Bams, it’s supposed to help!”

You eye him dangerously over your shoulder, alerting him without a word that if this is a prank he’ll be in for a rude awakening. 

He ignores your warning glance and uses his hands to stand you upright. You feel his arms circling you to hold beneath your baby bump and you’re ready to ask what he’s doing when suddenly the weight of your womb and the pressure on your back disappears. 

Looking down, you see Jungkook holding your stomach up for you, relieving the ache and allowing you to breathe freely. 

“Oh, wow, that’s really nice,” you mumble as your head falls to his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’ll do it as long as you like, Bams,” he tells you honestly. 

He does exactly that, holding the weight of your unborn child on your behalf for about ten minutes while you relish in the feeling of being weightless for a while. The act eventually joins his foot rubs and serenades as a part of your regular routine.

You’re lounging on the couch reading another parenting book while Jungkook plays a video game with your feet in his lap. It’s actually a test run for the game he’s been designing, and Jimin was absolutely right about him giving your character huge boobs. They’re tasteful, though, and you don’t mind because she’s a total badass. 

The game is currently distracting you from your book when you feel a strange sensation in your belly. You jump a little, looking down at your baby bump which is on display since you’re only wearing a bralette. The sensation happens again, and now that you’re watching intently, you see something move beneath your skin. 

Gasping in excitement, you begin hitting Jungkook with your book to grab his attention.

“Koo! Koo! The baby is kicking,” you shout even though he’s inches away from you.

His reaction is instantaneous, pausing the game and tossing the controller unceremoniously on the couch. Your hand traverses your belly so you can feel the next kick, and when you do, it makes you squeal and giggle in amazement. 

“Here, give me your hand,” you say and he stretches his arm towards you in response.

Placing his hand where you felt the movement, you wait and watch his face instead of your belly, wanting to see his reaction when he feels his baby move for the first time. The sensation comes, and you see Jungkook’s brow crease before his whole face lights up, his big brown eyes sparkling brighter than any star in the galaxy. 

“That’s… that’s our little one?” He asks in awe. You nod repeatedly and he smiles so big it takes up his entire face. “Hi, baby,” he coos in adoration, bending down to kiss all over your stomach. 

They kick again while he’s smooching you and he yelps in surprise at the feeling. 

You’re both blushing and giggling like schoolgirls with a crush, already so completely spellbound by your child. 

Jungkook carefully crawls over you to kiss you, but it’s all teeth and tongue because you can’t stop smiling even while trying to lock lips. You whimper in pain after a moment and Jungkook pulls back to check on you, his hand rising to caress your cheek.

“Seems our baby found my spine to kick instead,” you groan. 

Jungkook frowns and runs his thumb along your cheekbone.

“I guess wanting them to grow up to be a soccer player isn’t such a good thing after all,” he notes. Then, a thought occurs to him and his eyes light up again while he giggles to himself. “Hey, guess what?”

“Hmm?”

“Bambi.” He points to you. “And Thumper.” He points to your bump.

An endeared giggle completely overtakes your body, the back of your head hitting the arm of the couch while you rapidly kick your feet. 

“That’s so cute, Koo!” You hold his face in your hands. “Our family Halloween costumes are gonna be freaking adorable!” 

Jungkook’s expression turns saccharine as his eyes trace over your features in wonderment, and his gaze makes you realize it’s the first time you’re referring to yourselves as a family. The notion is obvious, but hearing the word aloud causes both your hearts to leap into your throat. You share in an adoring chuckle again, your foreheads meeting as you serenely close your eyes.

EIGHT

Jungkook blares “It’s the Final Countdown” from his Bluetooth speaker as he enthusiastically skips around the living room, both Bam and Usagi trailing after him in wonder. You’re too busy laughing from your place on the couch to join them. 

Today is exactly one month from your due date, and you’re prepared for this to be the single longest month of your life. The last eight have felt more like eight years, but you’re so close to the promised land, and you can hardly wait to bring your little one home. If you’re lucky, the baby may even come a little early and save you some heartache. 

And the heartache is literal, since one of the latest symptoms to add itself to the disastrous mix is intense heartburn. Couple that with the incessant kicking your child’s been getting up to lately, and your entire torso feels like it’s under siege. 

Jungkook does everything he can to help, such as constantly passing you Tums and playfully scolding your baby to stop kicking so much. He even went so far as to lace up his boxing gloves and have a sparring match with your baby bump. The extreme laughter born from his antics ended up hurting your stomach more than the kicking. 

The chemistry between you has been steadily increasing for some time, the line between friends and lovers practically blurring into obscurity, but you both welcome the feeling with open arms. 

You don’t find it necessary to broach the topic. You and Jungkook have never needed words to communicate, always knowing precisely what the other is thinking with a single glance, and it’s no different in this scenario.

Every time your eyes meet you know he feels the same; you’re no longer just best friends, and that’s alright.

About a week later you’re in the nursery together working on some finishing touches to the decor. Jungkook is hanging the mobile above the crib while you place the astronomical amount of clothes you received from your surprise baby shower in the closet. The nursery is positively jam packed from all the gifts people gave you last month, every corner of the room bursting with clothes, books, toys, and accessories. Even though the ample amount of supplies is overwhelming, knowing your little one is already so loved makes you abundantly happy. 

Chaewon even crocheted the perfect gender neutral blanket, despite her original complaints about the gender being unknown. 

Since the gender is a surprise, you and Jungkook haven’t discussed baby names all that much. Some general ideas have been thrown around, including family names and a sarcastic suggestion of “JJ” for Jungkook Jr. But you both share in the, perhaps naive, belief that as soon as you see them you’ll somehow know exactly what their name should be. 

Jungkook’s work phone rings, and you briefly glance over your shoulder to see him exiting the room as he answers the call. Usagi happily trots inside with the door wide open and curls up in the little reading nook. You give her some well deserved head pats while she purrs in content before continuing with your assigned task. Once all the clothes are either hung up or housed in the proper drawers, you leave the room to check on Jungkook.

When you find him after descending the stairs, he’s standing at the kitchen island drinking a glass of water which he slams down once it’s empty. Your eyebrows quirk up at the harsh motion, wondering what the call could’ve been about to elicit such a reaction.

“Koo, is everything alright?”

Jungkook shakes his head and rests his elbows on the counter so he can cradle his head in his hands.

“They need me to go to Japan for a meeting with some execs,” he tells you. 

“For how long?”

“Three days minimum, but it could be up to a week.”

“A week? Jungkook, I’m more than eight months pregnant.”

“Yeah, I know, Bambi, I told them that!” He explains in exasperation. “Fuck, this sucks so bad.”

You take a deep breath so at least one of you remains calm. Once you’re beside him, you attempt to massage the tension away from his back and shoulders.

“It’ll be okay. Japan is only a short airplane ride away. Worst comes to worst, you fly back if I go into labor,” you state.

“It’s not just if you go into labor, Bams. This is our last month before the baby is born. We’ve still got a ton to do!”

“The nursery is almost done, and either of our parents or friends can come over to help me clean and baby proof the house.” You tug on his shoulder so he turns around before cupping his face in your hands. “It’ll be fine, baby, I promise.”

Jungkook sighs before nuzzling his head against your hand, pursing his lips to press a couple chaste kisses to your palm. Afterwards he removes your hands from his face altogether to hold them between his own.

“I just don’t want to be away from you, baby,” he admits. “Not now and especially not for that long.”

Your cheeks grow warm in response to his words and you attempt to pacify his melancholy by giving him a tender kiss on the lips.

“I don’t want to be away from you, either, but I’m sure it will go by in the blink of an eye,” you reassure him. 

He aggressively pouts, practically giving himself duck lips, despite knowing it’s the truth. He brings you to his chest for a hug and you snuggle deeper into the embrace, allowing his familiar, comforting scent to encompass you.

You still have the weekend together before Jungkook flies out early Monday morning. You spend the majority of the time cuddling on the couch watching your favorite movies and playing with your fur babies as Bam chases a bone and Usagi hunts for the laser pointer. It’s heartwarmingly domestic and you hope it’ll always be this way, especially once your baby arrives.

Whenever you’re lounging around, Jungkook always lies as close as possible to your belly and it warms your heart to watch his fingers trace little hearts and smiley faces across your skin. 

Even after eight months he still upholds the tradition of coming downstairs first thing in the morning and caressing your baby bump while whispering “hi, my little papaya.” The only difference now is the adorable behavior is immediately followed by him pecking your lips and whispering “hi, my baby” to you.

You’re fully aware that when Monday rolls around you’re going to be a total basket case. The two of you haven’t been apart for more than a day since you got pregnant, and the thought of going a whole week without him when you’re this close to the finish line is borderline unbearable. 

Especially because your third trimester hormones have turned you into a raving lunatic as of late. Crocodile tears form in your eyes over nearly everything and your temper flips on a dime, which you always profusely apologize to Jungkook for whenever he’s on the receiving end. Two weeks ago, you found a dead spider on the ground and started weeping hysterically, so it’s safe to say the time away from Jungkook is going to leave you a complete mess. 

When you do say goodbye, you make a valiant effort at staying strong, but then Jungkook kisses you reverently, both his hands cupping your cheeks as he pours every once of his devotion into your mouth and you shatter into a million pieces. Your tears get trapped between your faces as your lips mold together, but Jungkook diligently wipes them away when he parts from you. 

His forehead presses to yours when he whispers that he loves you and he’ll be back soon before departing with a final grace of his lips to your brow. 

You wail Disney Princess style on his bed as soon as the door clicks shut behind you. It’s downright pathetic, but you don’t care because Usagi is the sole witness to your display. The sheets smell like him and it only serves to make matters worse. It’s only been five minutes and you feel like you miss him down to your very bones already.

Even though he’s far away, you still sleep in his bed rather than your own. You haven’t slept in the guest bedroom originally meant for you in well over two months, and it feels wrong to stay there just because he’s gone. 

Jungkook remains in constant contact with you, which helps ease the heartache of being apart. He messages you at every milestone, from the moment he arrives at the airport, to when his plane lands, and then again when he reaches the hotel. He sends photos and selfies, too, which fills you with exuberant warmth while simultaneously bringing on more tears.

You wallow in self-pity the whole first day, eating an entire tub of ice cream while you watch cheesy romantic comedies. Various friends and family come over the following day to help around the house, which you genuinely appreciate more than words can describe because there is still so much to do. On the third morning without Jungkook, your moms visit and the three of you chat over sparkling grape juice about anything and everything to expect.

They explain all the intimate details of the birthing process they can remember, such as what contractions and labor feel like, and how the brief hospital stay will go prior to bringing the baby home. Your mom goes into grave detail about how awful you’ll feel afterwards and Jungkook’s mom adds more pack to the punch by mentioning how difficult caring for a newborn is while healing from the delivery. 

They assure you everything will be fine, though, and that they’ll be here everyday if you need them. The three of you also agree you truly have nothing to worry about when you have someone as wonderful as Jungkook to care for you.

“Why did you guys want to be pregnant at the same time so badly anyway?” You ask them out of pure curiosity. 

“Well, truth be told, and don’t tell Kookie this, but we were actually hoping you would both be girls so we could have this adorable, little, four way mother-daughter relationship,” Jungkook’s mom tells you. 

You chuckle at her admission and your mind begins to wonder just how different your life would be if that had been the case.

“Honestly, though, this outcome is so much better!” Your mom exclaims. “Now we get to be grandparents together.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t part of the plan,” you state.

“Not at first, no,” Jungkook’s mom says. “But I think we knew as you guys got older, especially after college, that it was only a matter of time.”

“You know, you guys aren’t the only people to say that and I genuinely don’t get it,” you say. “I’m head over heels for him now, no doubt about it, but before, I truly didn’t see him that way. I mean, we grew up together, we were closer than most brothers and sisters are for the majority of our lives.”

“I don’t think it’s about how you felt at the time,” your mom explains. “I think it’s the way you interact, how much you care about one another. There’s one else who could ever give you the love you deserve more than each other.”

As you process her comment, the cogwheels in your mind synthesize and you finally understand what everyone’s been telling you all this time. What Nayeon said about your feelings for him being more than those of a relationship and Chaewon telling you not to overthink things. No one’s presented the notion to you this way before, and something about your mother’s words causes everything to click into place. 

You’re together now because it’s as easy as breathing, and whether you initially had romantic feelings for each other or not, no one can compare.

On day four you’re alone again and you go genuinely stir crazy. Poor Bam has to take the brunt of your brief mental insanity as you cry into his fur and lay across him in a desperate attempt to gain some sort of warmth and comfort. 

Although, you don’t need his services for long, because Jungkook calls like he has every night, but this time he has good news.

“Guess who’s coming home early tomorrow?”

“Really?” You shout into the receiver, your hands still covered in chip dust from eating your feelings. 

“Yup, first flight out of here tomorrow morning,” he tells you.

“Ah! Koo, I’m so excited!”

“Me, too, baby,” he says. “I miss you like crazy, been thinking about you 24/7.”

“Me, too,” you respond. “I think our little one misses you, too. They’ve been restless ever since you left.”

“Have you been playing the mixtape for them?”

“Yes, but it isn’t the same, and I honestly think they’ve gotten picky about it. Live vocals are just so much better, you know?”

Jungkook chuckles and even through the phone you can tell he’s smiling. 

“I’ll make sure to serenade them immediately upon my return,” he states.

“Nuh uh!” You pout even though he can’t see you. “I take priority here, mister.”

“Oh, you’re right. I’m sorry, Bams,” he laughs. “You’ll always be my number one.”

The two of you continue to talk about your respective days for a while. Jungkook explains all the cool gaming stuff he’s gotten to see while at the headquarters in Japan and you parry with your accomplishment of watching all five Twilight movies in a single day. You reluctantly hang up after a couple hours with a quick “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Tomorrow ends up being a complete disaster. 

There’s extreme thunderstorms throughout the entire region, so as soon as you wake up, you see a text from Jungkook informing you his flight’s been delayed by about two hours. It’s no biggie at first, knowing these things happen and it shouldn’t keep him from you for that much longer. But one delay turns to two, which becomes three, and after eight delays, his flight is finally moved to an entirely different airline and won’t be arriving until the following day at approximately three in the morning. 

He tells you not to wait up for him and get your sleep, but there’s no way in hell you’re waiting even another second to see him. 

Even once he lands, it’s still down pouring and the taxi takes another thirty minutes to reach him. He gives you periodic updates, including some heartbreaking selfies of him pouting by the luggage carousel, but despite being able see his handsome face through the phone, it’s all so frustrating you could rip your hair right out of your head. 

By the time his location icon starts moving towards the house, you’ve been pacing the floor like a mad woman for close to an hour. 

Your incessant pacing screeches to a halt when you hear the sound of his footsteps bounding up the stairs and the key turning in the lock. You scurry across the floor as fast as your swollen, pregnant feet will carry you, waiting just behind the door for the reveal of your favorite sight in the world. Although, when the door swings open, you don’t get the chance to admire him before your face is squished against his. 

The very moment Jungkook sees you, he takes your face in his hands and smashes his lips on yours as though he’ll die if he doesn’t. His hungry mouth silences your noise of surprise, coaxing your mouth open and allowing his tongue to invade the space as he kisses you until you can’t see straight. Muscle memory makes it all too easy for him to guide you away from the door and into the wall. You moan when your back meets the hard surface and Jungkook groans in satisfaction at the sound, using his hips to trap you between him and the drywall. 

The warm hands on your skin, taut body flush to yours, and delicious mouth utterly devouring you completely shuts down your senses until all you can see, hear, smell, taste, and feel are him. 

Hands reaching up to grab the collar of his shirt, you tug him impossibly close, even though your bodies are already touching in every place possible. He’s kissing you like he never has before and somehow you still want more. Your hands release the fabric to traverse the planes of his chest and hold his shoulders, eventually moving upwards to caress his neck and jaw. 

He’s completely soaked from the rain, his hair dripping cold water droplets onto your skin and his soiled clothes transferring the liquid onto your own, but there isn’t a single piece of you that minds. He can drench you in acid for all you care, as long as he stays this close and keeps kissing you like this. 

Jungkook pulls a centimeter away, his lips still brushing yours as he breathes erratically as though he ran all the way from the airport. 

“I’m so in love with you,” he pants. “I’m fucking crazy about you, Bambi.” He shakes his head in disbelief of his confidence to finally confess. “I was going to wait to tell you until after the baby’s born, but being away from you was fucking torture and I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

“Hold it in? How long have you felt this way?” 

Your eyes stare into his with wonder.

“Since we thought we were gonna lose the baby,” he tells you. “I was driving you to the doctor’s office and it felt like the whole world was crashing down around me, but then I realized that’s okay. That if that happened, it wouldn’t matter. The zombie apocalypse could destroy all of humanity, the tectonic plates could shift and send entire continents into the sea, and it wouldn’t matter as long as I have you.” He inhales while gently shaking his head and spraying you with rainwater. “And that’s not new, I’ve always felt that way about you. I’ve always known I want you by my side for the rest of my life, but it made me realize I don’t want anyone else by my side. I only want you, baby.”

“Jungkook, you kept that from me for two months?” You ask incredulously.

“We have a lot going on at the moment, Bams,” he explains.

“Sure, but the stuff we have going on is stressful. Your feelings for me aren’t stressful.”

Jungkook’s eyes burn with intensity as he analyzes the meaning of your words. 

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why aren’t they stressful, Bambi?”

“Because.” You shrug like what you’re about to say is the most obvious truth of the universe. “Well, because I’m in love with y — mmpf.”

Jungkook ceases the remainder of your confession with a divine kiss. Your mouths move in perfect harmony and you swear you see the sun peaking through the rain clouds outside. It doesn’t seem possible, but you can feel every ounce of Jungkook’s love for you on his tongue as it traces your lips and tangles with your own.

“Say it again,” he requests. “Please.”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Again, don’t stop.”

“I love you.” Kiss. “I’m so, stupidly, madly.” Kiss. “Crazy in love with you, Jungkook.” Kiss. “I love you so much.” Kiss. “I love you more than anything.” Kiss. “More than I’ll ever be able to describe.” Kiss. “Jungkook.” Kiss. “You’re my everything.” Kiss. “I love you, Koo.”

You aren’t able to chant your emotions anymore because Jungkook doesn’t give you time to breathe, let alone speak. 

His hands are still firmly cradling your face, both your lips refusing to part from one another for a single second. He tastes like honey and vanilla, most likely from the sweets you know he had on the plane. It’s addicting and hypnotizes you completely until all you can think about is him and all you can do is kiss him with all your might. 

Jungkook’s hands travel to the back of your head and tangle in your hair. He uses the leverage to tilt your head so he can kiss across your jaw and neck, biting down softly before sucking over the same spot and making you whimper helplessly for him. 

The attention on your neck only lasts momentarily before he’s releasing you to grab your ass instead, but you stop him by gripping his biceps.

“Baby, you can’t lift me right now, I’m too heavy,” you warn him.

Jungkook looks so offended he takes two full steps away from you, one of his eyebrows rising in disbelief as his jaw ticks. He even goes so far as to scoff while cracking his neck. Then, for the sole purpose of proving you wrong, he effortlessly lifts you into his arms and you have to scramble to latch onto him with your arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

“You wanna try that again, Bams?”

“No,” you grumble under your breath.

The sound of his proud chuckle meets your ears as he seamlessly carries up the stairs and into his bedroom. He tosses you unceremoniously onto the bed, your body bouncing when you land as you giggle in excitement. 

You wait for him to join you, reaching towards him with a pout when he isn’t instantly on top of you, but he only rests one knee on the edge of the mattress.

“Wait, since when have you known?”

“Honestly?” Jungkook nods rapidly. “I have no fucking clue. It’s just like my nickname. I have no idea when or where it happened. I just know all of the sudden you were the first thing on my mind when I woke up, and I got butterflies when we were together, and I wanted to hold your hand, cuddle you, and go on dates. It’s like I just woke up one day and realized I fell in love with you but have no way of tracing it to an exact origin.”

Jungkook smiles and shakes his head knowingly.

“That’s so you.”

“I know, I’m a freaking space cadet!”

“My space cadet,” Jungkook says, finally moving to hover above you. “Also, I know how you got your nickname.”

“Huh?” You frown deeply. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve always known, but I thought it was cute that none of you could remember,” he explains. “It felt like it was my own little secret.”

“Koo!”

Jungkook laughs while scrunching his nose in adoration, his arms shaking where they rest on either side of your head.

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell you. We were watching the movie in my living room and you just wouldn’t stop crying after Bambi’s mom died, like full blown hysterical tears. So, to cheer you up I said ‘it’s okay, Bambi,’ and you smiled SO big and your eyes lit up like fireworks. I knew then it had to be your nickname.”

Your lip catches between your teeth as you will the sentimental tears not to fall. The notion of Jungkook knowing this whole time is both infuriating and also so heartwarming; that his nickname for you is so precious to him he didn’t dare share the secret of its beginning. 

“That’s so you,” you reply to his story.

He radiantly beams at you, his cheeks and ears turning bright pink from the blush spreading across them. You share in your affectionate laughter as he drops to his elbows so he can kiss you. 

“I love you so much, Bambi,” he whispers. “You’re everything to me, baby.”

The tears you successfully held back before make their debut, wetting both his and your cheeks as they roll away from your eyes. 

Even though you’ve known for a while now this confession was imminent, it’s still just as mesmerizing to hear the words from his lips and be able to say them in return.

The kiss begins with fluid, languid motions, your mouths dancing together for the millionth time, but then Jungkook raises the temperature of the room, greedily licking into your mouth and tugging on your lower lip with his teeth before letting it snap into place. The air fills with moans and whines as you make out, but you stop him with a hand to his chest when you feel him grinding against you.

“Wait, Koo, sex can induce labor,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he draws out the word. “So, we get it on and meet our little one a bit early, isn’t that a win-win situation?”

You chuckle and mentally berate yourself for believing his answer would be anything besides that. Rolling your eyes with an affectionate smile, you briefly peck his lips before smacking his ass.

“Deal, but I’m getting on top.”

Jungkook certainly isn’t going to object to you riding his dick. 

He holds you by the waist and rolls you both over, helping you settle in his lap and caressing your outline as his eyes memorize the vision of you above him. His fingers grip the bottom of your shirt to pull it over your head and then he does the same for his own. 

You don’t let him continue undressing, too mesmerized by his chiseled torso to allow the sight to be hindered. He’s been working out more these last few months as a way to unwind from the stress of preparing for fatherhood, and it’s definitely paid off. You’ve always known how blessed you are to have him, but moments like this remind you just how blessed you truly are.

His neck is your initial target while your hands run along his abs, sinking your nails into the hard lines and creating red marks across his pretty muscles. Jungkook whines at the feeling, his hand reactively grabbing the back of your head as you mark his neck with pretty, wet blotches. 

“Please don’t tease me, baby,” he says. “I need you so fucking bad.”

“You’re the one who left me alone for five days,” you reply in between kisses to his jugular. “I’ll take however long I want.”

Taking your time traversing his shoulder and collarbones, you trace over every muscle and bone with your lips, soaking his skin as your tongue drags across the area. His hand keeps a firm grip on your head, slightly guiding your movements, but still allowing you to savor his upper body despite his request. You bite into his pecs and circle his nipple with your tongue, making his hips bucks beneath you as he groans. 

You giggle like the brat you are at his neediness, already feeling his cock stiffening where your core rests against his crotch.

It honestly takes an exuberant amount of effort to stop painting his torso in kisses, reluctantly pulling away after licking across the entire expanse of his stomach down to his hips and placing a single smooch on all eight of his abdominal muscles. 

Jungkook forces your lips to meet his when you’re done, kissing you like he’s starving for you as he removes both your bottoms in quick succession.

He can feel just how wet you are as soon as your bare cunt meets his length, your essence already leaking all over him without him having to do any work. It brings a smile to his face as you kiss, the feeling of pride turning his chest red with blush because of his effect on you. 

“Missed you so fucking much, babygirl.”

The words have barely left Jungkook’s lips when he grabs your hips to position you over his cock. His fingers wrap around his shaft so you have a perfect target to sink onto, and the familiar feeling of him stretching you open as you sit on his thighs makes your head lull while you breathlessly moan.

“Oh fuck, baby,” you mewl. “I missed you so bad.”

Jungkook is pulling your face to his so he can kiss you before you even start bouncing on him, his other hand grabbing your ass and squeezing your flesh possessively. The kiss is quick, because soon after he’s turning your head and licking across the hot skin of your neck. His warm breath tickles your ear as he goes to speak. 

“This cock is all yours, Bams. So, be good and ride it for me, yeah?” 

You’d do anything he asks, and his words light up the competitive streak in you to give him the best fuck of his life. 

The temptress within you gets the better of you, and you decide to fully unsheath him from the walls of your pussy while grabbing his cock with your hand to keep him in place. He groans indignantly when your warmth leaves him, and you wait a few torturous moments before slowly letting him enter you again one inch at a time. 

Jungkook spanks you in retaliation, but you just chuckle and scratch at his pecs with your nails.  

Continuing the slow glide, you watch as Jungkook’s cock leaves your cunt covered in your juices until it disappears from view when your walls suck him in again. The erotic visual makes your body burn with wanton need. His thick cock repeatedly spearing you is truly a sight to behold and it feels even better than it looks. 

“Fuck, Bambi, don’t fucking do this to me.”

“Do what?” 

The faux innocent gaze your eyes possess makes Jungkook’s jaw clench. 

“I will demolish this fucking pussy. Don’t mess with me, baby,” he threatens. 

“I’d like to see you tr –” 

Jungkook cuts your air supply off completely with a single deadly thrust upwards, your sentence ending with a screech instead of the syllable it was supposed to. 

You aren’t able to replenish your oxygen because Jungkook’s hand is suddenly around your throat, pressing down on the sides to choke you without actually hurting you. His other hand bruisingly holds your hip so he can keep you exactly where he wants you. Your inner thighs meet his pelvis when he plants his feet against the mattress, giving him all the leverage he needs to fuck you dumb. 

“There we go, much better,” he grunts as he abuses your hole. 

“Koo, oh my God.” 

You’re grasping for purchase on his chest to keep yourself upright, eventually gripping his shoulders to prevent falling right over. The combination of his hand around your throat and his cock hitting just the right spot inside you has your mind going numb and your mouth dropping open. 

Jungkook’s completely focused on his singular goal of fucking you right, his brow creasing as his eyes sharpen with determination. He looks no less than ethereal below you, the sweat on his skin making him shimmer like the Greek god you’re positive he descends from. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking handsome, Jungkook. It’s unreal.”

He blushes at your compliment even as his hips work endlessly to force his dick deep into your pussy. 

“That means a lot coming from someone as beautiful as you,” he says with honey coating his tone.

Unlike him, you’re unable to blush or even react, the speed and force of his strokes is plummeting your body into an ocean of euphoria and all you can do is drown. The sex is borderline demonic, and yet it feels like heaven coursing through your veins. 

It’s a genuine mystery of the universe how someone as kind and gentle as Jungkook can be such a goddamn animal in bed. 

If it wasn’t for your pregnant belly, you’re certain Jungkook’s cock would be making an appearance in your abdomen. His lower body is working overtime to send his thick length as far as possible into you and the sensation turns your mind to goo. You would love nothing more than to focus on the feeling of his muscles beneath your fingers, or the way his thighs smash into yours with every thrust, but you’re in a subspace of pleasure. 

“Fuck, Bams, you look so sexy,” he tells you, his voice dripping with desire. “Pussy filled with me, belly swollen with my child, your perfect tits full of milk. You’re fucking gorgeous, babygirl.”

As if to prove his point, he sits up to tug one of your nipples between his teeth. You gasp at the abrasion against your already sensitive skin, but the sound melts into a moan when he takes it into his mouth and sucks on the pebbled skin.

He plays with your nipple until it’s sore, flicking it with his tongue and then slowly circling it until you’re whining and gripping his hair like a lifeline. Wet kisses are placed all over your breast, slathering you in drool and red blotches where he chose to suck on your flesh. You think the debilitating treatment is over until he switches sides, making you cry with pleasure. 

There’s a pop when he releases your nub from his mouth to kiss along your sternum instead.

“You feel fucking amazing, baby. So big, make me feel so full,” you moan.

Jungkook hums proudly as his tongue leaves his mouth to the lick your collarbone.  

“I don’t know how I’ll survive six weeks without fucking this perfect, little cunt.”

His hand tightens around your throat again and you whimper, rolling your hips downward along with his movements to create friction on your clit.

“At least you’ll be able to jack off,” you retort.

“Mm, that can’t even hold a candle to you, baby,” he kisses across your shoulder, inch by inch until he reaches your neck. “I would know, it’s all I fucking did the last five days.” 

Jungkook’s hand leaves your throat with a final squeeze to join his other one at your hips, bringing you down against him with more ferocity as the sound of skin slapping together fills the room. 

“I’ve got you addicted, don’t I?”

“Fuck, you have no idea, Bambi.”

You continue fucking yourself on him to the best of your ability even with his brutal pace, feeling infinitely needier as your orgasm steadily approaches. 

Jungkook is reeking havoc on your neck, coating you in his saliva as he licks across your sweat soaked skin and kisses your most sensitive spots. He nibbles on your earlobe and it makes you keen and whimper unabashedly. 

Honestly, you don’t know how you’ll survive the six weeks either. The two of you have done nothing but fuck since a few weeks after you moved in, and the forced celibacy may very well send you spiraling into insanity. You’re addicted to him, too, and you already know you’ll be begging for his dick for the remainder of your days.

Craving more of you, Jungkook holds you firm against his chest and slams back into the mattress, readjusting his feet and the angle of his hips so he can terrorize your g-spot with the tip of his cock. 

“Oh, holy shit.”

You bite down on his shoulder as tears prick your eyes.

He growls amorously in his throat, his hips taking on a mind of their own as they work effortlessly to send you both crashing into an orgasm. 

Part of you feels bad for requesting to be on top only to allow him to take control, but the guilt washes away like sand when you feel your climax pressing against your insides like a tsunami just offshore. 

“Come on my cock, baby, wanna feel how tight you squeeze me,” Jungkook orders. 

You can’t answer him, the only noises escaping your body being nonsensical moans and cries of his name. But your body certainly responds, your pussy clenching around his cock like a vice before your legs lock and twitch when your release comes.

The pulsing of your cunt triggers Jungkook’s release, and your cries of pleasure harmonize as you come together. 

“Shit, Koo,” you curse as he continues sending his cock into you, creating an ache of oversensitivity between your legs. “Baby.” 

You stall his movements with a hand to his chest as your pussy convulses around him with the aftershocks of your orgasm. There’s a soreness in your thighs when you lift yourself from his lap and fall beside him on the bed. 

Jungkook’s softening cock is covered in white from both of your juices, and if you weren’t entirely spent and borderline delirious, you’d lick it clean for him. 

He caresses your face as your eyes close, moving your hair out the way so he can kiss your cheek, nose, temple, and forehead. You hum happily, pursing your lips as a wordless demand for him to kiss them as well.

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook,” you whisper into the air.

The sound of his bright laugh makes you smile.

“I love you more,” he responds before finally giving you a tender kiss.

“Oh, please don’t make me fight you right now. I’m in no shape to do so,” you state.

Jungkook giggles and pecks your lips a couple more times in rapid succession.

Once your heavy breathing slows and your bodies cool, you roll into Jungkook’s side and he naturally pulls you into his embrace. 

It’s nearing sunrise and if you’re this exhausted, you can’t even begin to comprehend how tired Jungkook must be.

He wishes you goodnight where his lips rest on your forehead and you return the gesture by smooching his chest a couple times. The two of you sleep peacefully for the first time in days, the feeling of home completely encompassing you as you’re whisked away to dreamland. 

NINE

Despite the many warnings about the possibility of sex inducing labor, you’re three days from your due date and Jungkook fucking you sensless multiple times a day has yet to make your baby arrive any sooner. 

The two of you are in the honeymoon phase straight out of finally confessing your love for each other, and you having a massive baby bump and a few extra pounds on you doesn’t stop you in the slightest from celebrating your new relationship status. Jungkook can’t keep his hands to himself even when you’re in the middle of important tasks readying the house for your little pumpkin 

Honestly, you think it’s partially to distract himself from the imminent arrival of your child. He never says it aloud because he doesn’t want to worry you, but you know him better than anyone and can tell he’s anxious. 

It’s one thing to spend nine months positively itching to hold your baby in your arms, but it’s another to actually parent said child. 

Even with his nerves, he’s been the picture perfect partner throughout these final weeks and you’re nothing short of absolutely certain he’ll be the most amazing father in the world. Even if he fails at things or messes up every now and then, the immense love he already holds for your baby is more than you could ever ask for from a partner.

Right now he’s screwing the final dresser into the wall of his bedroom so it’s baby-proof. He’s never been much of a handyman, but you suppose the fatherhood gene has fully fermented in his blood and now he can handle a drill like a pro. You’ll have to ask him about changing tires next, and his sneezes will probably get louder as soon as the baby is born.

You’re moseying around the kitchen as you clean up following dinner. Jungkook keeps telling you to stay still and relax, but you’re way too antsy to do that.  

Every minute feels like an hour while you wait for your little one to arrive. Not only because you’re so eager to meet them, but because you’re terrified of labor and delivery and want it over with as soon as possible. It’s a fear of the unknown, and you know you’ll feel better once you understand how bad the contractions will be. 

Being pregnant comes with many lovely perks, one of which includes peeing every time you cough or even flinch the wrong way. 

That’s why, when you feel a warm sensation down below, you don’t question it. Like always these past couple months, you merely roll your eyes and make a mental note to change your underwear when you’re done cleaning. 

It’s only once you step to your left and have to catch yourself on the counter to stop from slipping that you realize you’re standing in a pool of liquid. You certainly didn’t pee your pants, because although it’s been a couple decades since you last did, you remember the feeling quite well. When the realization of what actually occurred hits you, you’re screaming bloody murder for Jungkook upstairs.

“My water! Jungkook! My water just broke!” 

The sound of his two feet followed by four large paws running down the stairs is all you hear until he appears at the bottom of the stairwell looking like he’s seen a ghost.

His cheeks are bright red, his eyes bigger than you’ve ever seen them, and he’s huffing out air as though he just ran a marathon. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yes, Koo, I’m standing in amniotic fluid as we speak!”

Jungkook shakes his head aggressively to get himself into action mode. 

“Alright, you get your shoes on, I’m gonna get the hospital bag. Wait, do you need to change first?”

“That would be nice, yeah,” you admit. 

He’s gone in a flash to head back upstairs and obtain your pre-packed bag with all the essentials and something for you to change into. 

When he returns only a split second later, Usagi is following close behind now that she’s aware something exciting is going on. He hands you a comfortable dress and panties to change into and you strip right there in the kitchen. His hand on your hip stalls you before you’re able to slip the clothes on, and you nearly start screaming at him that now is not the time, but then he grabs a towel and wipes away the fluid from your legs. 

You smile graciously and thank him for thinking ahead before sliding the dress over your head and scurrying to the door. 

Now that your water broke you can feel a mild cramping from the contractions. It’s a dull pitch in your back as well as what you can only compare to a period cramp. You must not be dilated very much yet because the pain is still fairly tolerable. 

Jungkook bends over to help you with your shoes before resting his hand on your lower back to guide you downstairs to the garage. Both your hands are caressing your swollen stomach, slightly bracing yourself because the cramping is coming in waves every few minutes. 

When you reach the car Jungkook opens the passenger door for you, but you turn on your heel and place your hands on his chest before sitting down. He looks at you inquisitively, his eyes conveying his hurriedness and confusion as to why you’re not rushing, too. 

“I just, we have time, and I want to take a minute before we go,” you tell him.

“For what, Bambi?”

You admire the pretty features you’ve known all your life with a smile and reach up to circle his neck with your arms. He laughs cheerfully and reflects your embrace by hugging your waist.

“This is the last time we’re gonna be here, just the two of us.” You nuzzle your face in his neck and let his scent calm you. “The last time it will just be you and me.”

“It’s always gonna be you and me, Bams,” he replies. “Always.”

He kisses your cheek, leaving his lips there for a lingering moment before you part. Once you do, he rests his hand on your jaw and kisses you gently. His lips are warm and familiar, and you kiss one another with a promise of wonderful new things on the horizon. 

Jungkook waits to ensure you’re comfortable in the passenger seat before running to the other side and taking off towards the nearby hospital. On the way, you call your doctor to let them and she assures you she’ll meet you there once the labor and delivery nurses triage you. 

When you arrive, you take a poignant deep breath, knowing that when you exit this place you’ll be a mom, and this is the last time in the outside world where you’ll just be you. It’s exhilarating, nerve wracking, and overwhelming all at once, but you’ve been preparing for this next chapter for nine months now, and you’re more than ready.

You and Jungkook have your hands tightly wound together as you enter the massive hospital, but he relinquishes his grip to grab you a wheelchair once you’re inside. He watches you carefully as you sit down, holding his hands out on either side of you as though you’re made of glass. When you nod at him assuredly that you’re all good, he rushes to the counter to inform the receptionist while you text all your important group chats about what’s going on. 

Your parents and friends are planning on coming to see you and the baby after delivery, and you can’t wait to formally introduce them to your little one. 

Jungkook returns along with a labor and delivery nurse who introduces herself before wheeling you down the hallway. When you reach two large double doors, she stops and turns to you and Jungkook, whose hand is comfortingly rubbing your shoulder.

“Alright, this is where we’ll be parting for a bit. Mom, you’re coming with me, and Dad, you have to get scrubbed up so you can join us,” she explains.

This step in the process is something your doctor explained previously, but it doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier, no matter how momentary the separation will be.

Looking towards Jungkook, you notice he’s just as anxious to be away from you, but he hides it well and bends to your height so he can kiss you briefly. 

“I’ll see you soon, okay, Bambi?”

There are tears in your eyes even though you’re nodding your head.

“Yeah, soon,” you whimper.

“It’s okay, baby, it won’t be for long,” he tells you as he caresses your cheek. You lean your head into his hand and close your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you parrot and kiss him one final time. 

He waves continuously as you’re pushed through the double doors by your nurse, and even though you know he’s upset, too, he’s sporting the cheesiest grin on his face to make you laugh.

Jungkook heaves out a sigh directly from his gut once you’re gone, his head falling back as he struggles to steady his jackrabbiting heart. Being apart right now feels like unadulterated torture, but he knows it’s only for a short while before you’ll be together again.

A different nurse comes to lead him to a sterile room just around the corner. The older woman explains the basics of scrubs and staying clean as well as what to do if he gets contaminated. He listens as dutifully as possible with all the other millions of thoughts running through his head and eventually the nurse helps him dress in the lovely, crinkly blue outfit, which includes shoe covers and a hair net. 

He looks utterly ridiculous, but truthfully, finally dawning his father-to-be attire makes him giddy.

When he exits, the nurse leads him down a seemingly infinite hallway to a delivery room where your doctor is waiting just outside the door. She smiles joyously when he appears in her vision and enthusiastically waves him down. 

“Hi, Doc,” he excitedly greets her.

“Hi, how are you feeling?” She asks him.

“I’m… nervous as hell,” he says truthfully. “I can’t stand seeing her in pain, so I don’t think I’m going to handle this very well.”

“A lot of dads feel that way about their partner,” she explains. “Just remember, all you can do is be there for her and she’ll get through it. She’s a tough cookie.”

“She is,” he nods with a smile.

“So, I wanted to talk to you before we go in. Y/N’s lost quite a lot of blood, and we’ve had to set her up with a continuous blood transfusion to ensure she’ll have enough for delivery. Now, let me just say, this is totally normal. We deal with this all the time and we’ve got everything under control.”

Jungkook’s heart drops into his stomach with a weighted plop, his entire body following suit as his shoulders sink and he nearly loses his balance.

“What — what — what do you mean, why is she losing blood?”

“It’s just something that happens sometimes, the baby is moving through her body and it can cause internal bleeding which drops her blood count,” she explains calmly.

“But… but she’s gonna be okay, right? I mean, Doc, that’s my entire world in there. I’m… I’m not even a person without her, I —”

“Jungkook, listen to me,” she interrupts his manic ramblings. “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive. She’s going to be just fine. Her and the baby. You’re going to leave here with both of them tomorrow, alright?”

Jungkook attempts to calm his thoughts and take her words of expertise to heart, but he needs to see you for himself, hold you and feel your skin beneath his fingers so he knows without a shadow of a doubt that you’re alright.

“Okay. And you’ll… she takes priority, right? If something goes wrong —”

“Of course, she does.” She smiles reassuringly at him. “I won’t let anything happen to your Bambi, Jungkook.”

He nods his head as a sigh of relief leaves his lungs.

“Thank you, Doctor,” he says wholeheartedly.

“Of course. Let’s get you in there to see her, yeah? Fair warning, she’s a little loopy because of the blood loss, but it shouldn’t last too much longer now that she’s hooked up to a blood bag.”

She opens the door and gestures for Jungkook to enter before following closely behind.

When you see the light pouring in from the door opening, your eyes glisten with excitement as Jungkook appears in your field of vision. Even though you feel half alive, the sight of the man you love brings a huge toothy grin to your face. 

“Koo,” you call for him quietly, your hand weakly rising in his direction. He’s at your side instantly, taking your shaking hand and kissing the back of it before sitting in the chair beside your hospital bed. “You look so cute in your scrubs.”

“Yeah? Well, you look absolutely beautiful, baby,” he tells you as he delicately pushes your sweaty hair from your face. 

The contractions are coming in quick succession now and are significantly more powerful, but because of the blood loss you’ve only been given a mild pain reliever. It’s truthfully been horrible so far, especially when you nearly passed out from all the blood escaping your body. You don’t dare tell Jungkook about it, knowing precisely how he’ll react, but you already feel better with him next to you.

Pursing your lips in his general direction, you hear Jungkook chuckle as he leans in to kiss you deeply. Despite your current state, you still do your best to reciprocate the passion he pours into you, moving your lips in tandem while his free hand rises to cradle your jaw. Your foreheads meet once your lips reluctantly divide, but Jungkook uses his grip to lower your head so he can press his lips there a couple times instead.

“So, I take it you two aren’t just best friends anymore?” Your doctor is sitting between your legs with an eyebrow raised. You and Jungkook share a knowing chuckle before facing her and shaking your heads in unison. She smiles broadly in response. “Good, I’m glad.”

Just then, another contraction crashes over you and you groan while bending over in pain. Jungkook’s eyes go wide and misty in an instant, his hand clutching yours in support, which you return tenfold by brutally squishing his fingers together from the tightness of your grip. 

You feel his other hand combing through your hair as you attempt to push through the pain by counting your breaths. The pain coursing through your lower half is already borderline unbearable, and you pray they can give you the epidural soon.

“Breathe, baby,” Jungkook instructs, mimicking the Lamaze technique you learned all those months ago. 

The class was enjoyable enough, but the breathing exercises truly don’t do jack shit for the pain. Jungkook’s voice brings you more comfort than the repetitive intakes of air you were taught. As the pain begins to cease, you crash back into the bed with shaky breaths while Jungkook massages the shoulder closest to him. 

“Are you alright, Bams?” He asks, his eyes watching the monitor beside you so he can see your heart rate returning to baseline.

“Yeah, I am now,” you pant.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You caress his cheek with your free hand while putting on your bravest smile for him.

“No, my love, you just have to sit there and look pretty,” you instruct him. 

Jungkook blushes as he laughs.

You request he answer some of the hundreds of text messages currently blowing up your phone and causing it to nearly vibrate off the table. He does so without hesitation, sending mass text messages to your friends and family stating where to go when they arrive and updating them on how you're doing. There’s also a fair amount of selfies taken in between contractions, some for your loved ones and a couple of you two kissing for his own records. He wants to remember this forever, even if you both look questionable at best in your hospital attire. 

Everyone in your life knows about the relationship status upgrade, but he still wants to keep some moments sacred for just the two of you. 

When you told your moms, you genuinely thought they were going to pass out from sheer excitement. The two women cried hysterical happy tears and hugged one another for a minimum of five minutes before finally embracing the two of you in congratulations. 

The contractions continue for a couple hours, each wave of them getting closer and closer together until they’re almost neck and neck. After a particularly horrific one lasting about ten minutes, your doctor comes to speak to you.

“So, here’s the situation,” she starts. “You’re dilated to ten right now; the baby is ready to come out. The only problem is you still haven’t received enough blood for us to give you the epidural.” She sighs regretfully. “That gives us two options. You either do the birth naturally now or we give you a medicine that slows your labor down and we wait until we can give you the epidural. The biggest downside to that is the medicine can take upwards of ten hours to leave your system, so you’ll be feeling the contractions for that long.”

You were never planning on delivering naturally, and having to choose between the better of two evils is making your brain short circuit. All you want is to meet your baby, to hold, kiss, and love them, but there’s a barrier of brutality standing in your way. 

“Do you think I can do it naturally?” You ask her.

“Absolutely. I’ve seen thousands of women do it, but that doesn’t mean you have to. Everyone is different.”

Anxiously gnawing on your lip, you turn towards Jungkook, whose expression mirrors the fright on your own. His eyes are glossy with unsung emotion and it breaks your heart. You know how difficult it is for him to feel so powerless to help you, always proudly holding the title of your knight in shining armor all your life. 

“What do you think?”

“It’s not up to me, Bams,” he answers.

“I know, but I want your opinion.”

His jaw clenches and he shakes his head before speaking.

“I fucking hate seeing you in pain, Bambi. I can hardly stand it, you know that,” he responds. “But for either option it sounds like that’ll be the case. You either experience excruciating pain now or suffer for ten hours with severe pain.”

You mull over his words for a while before releasing the air in your lungs as your decision finalizes in your mind. 

“I wanna meet our baby, Koo,” you tell him. “I don’t want to wait.”

Jungkook smiles assuredly at you and brings your fingers to his lips to kiss.

“I know you can do this, Bambi. There’s nothing in this world I believe in more.”

“So, we’re gonna try naturally?” Your doctor asks to clarify and you answer her with a nervous nod of your head. “Great, we’ll start pushing in about ten minutes, alright? Remember that you’re going to push along with each contraction, so don’t push until I tell you.”

She walks across the room to discuss the plan with the other nurses assisting her with your delivery. Jungkook grabs your attention by brushing his knuckles down the side of your face and you paint an expression of false bravery on your face for him.

“Are you okay? You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, Koo, I’m okay,” you assure him. “Just don’t be upset if I sink my nails into your skin and make you bleed.”

“You can do whatever you need to get through it,” he responds.

He brushes your hair away again, even more of your strands matted down after the hours of labor you’ve gone through already.

“This is it, huh? No turning back,” you say.

“Nope,” Jungkook giggles. “I can’t wait, Bams.”

“Me, either,” you reply happily.

Jungkook kisses you again, cherishing the feeling of your lips as he mentally maps the shape of your mouth and memorizes this moment. You allow the lip lock to be your final moment of rest before diving headfirst into the ordeal you fear the most. The next time your lips meet, it will be once you’ve become a family. 

“I know I’ve said it before, but you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. I love you so damn much,” Jungkook states.

“I thought you said that blowjob I gave you was the best thing to ever happen to you?”

Jungkook laughs indiscriminately, his eyes squeezing shut as his bunny teeth peak out.

“I was wrong,” he says. “It’s you, Bambi. It’s always been you.”

You smile at him in total adoration while tracing his features with your eyes, wanting to remember years from now exactly how he looked before he became a dad. 

“I love you, Jungkook, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to properly explain just how much.”

Instead of verbally replying, there are kisses spread all over your face as you giggle until your doctor returns and asks if you’re ready. When you tell her you are, she reassures you of your strength before sitting on the stool between your legs while the other nurses stand in various positions around her.

Jungkook squeezes your hand with an unknown melody and you share an affirmative glance from your periphery. You’ve been through everything under the sun together, and this is just another hurdle you know you’ll get through side by side. There’s no doubt in your mind you can do this because he’s here beside you and no one provides you with more strength and support than him.

Three consecutive, merciless contractions crash over you and you nearly turn Jungkook’s hand purple with your grasp. Your doctor informs you in a calm voice that when the third wave of pain begins to ebb you’ll start pushing. One contraction bleeds into the next, and you hear a backwards count of three before she orders you to push hard.

The pain is abundantly worse than you ever imagined. It feels like the entire lower half of your body is on fire while your insides tear themselves to shreds. You scream as hot, salty tears blur your vision and your nails bite into Jungkook’s hand. He holds your elbow with his free hand in an attempt to give you more support to steady yourself with.

The word “push” is repeated over and over as the contraction moves through you. You do as you're told for a few minutes, although it feels like hours, and then she states you’re going to pause for a moment. 

“Okay, you can stop, dear,” she instructs. 

As soon as your efforts cease, you gasp in hefty relief and fall backwards into the bed, all the while panting and trying to calm the inner workings of your body after pushing your nervous system to the brink.

“Bambi? Are you doing alright?” Jungkook asks as he brushes his fingers through your hair.  

“Fuck you, Jungkook. You’re never coming in me again,” you huff through shaky breaths. 

He chuckles and kisses your crown a couple times, making you smile despite the exhaustion and ache. 

When your doctor asks if you’re ready to continue you reply with a weak nod of your head and return to your prior position. The same sequence of events repeats for a while, but you honestly have no idea for how long because one excruciating moment just blurs into the next. There’s a particularly awful set of pushes and afterwards your doctor happily informs you the baby’s crowning and it shouldn’t take much longer. 

You brace yourself for what you know will be the worst pain yet, readjusting your hold on Jungkook’s hand as he whispers words of encouragement in your ear and kisses your sweaty cheek. 

Truthfully, all you want is to pause and climb into his lap so he can soothe the pain away as he always does, but your baby needs you, and there’s nothing you want more in the world than to hold them in your arms.

A moment later your doctor tells you to push as hard as you’re able and the loudest scream yet rips from your throat. You genuinely believe for a moment that you're being ripped in half and won’t make it out alive. The thought scares you half to death, but you force it away so you can focus on giving your child life.

“Ah! Fuck!” You wail as tears freefall from your eyes.

“One more, honey, you’re almost there,” your doctor assures you.

“You can do it, Bams,” Jungkook shouts as his arm shakes from how firmly you’re clutching his hand. 

“Ahh no, no I can’t, I can’t do it,” you cry helplessly, the pain nearly blacking out your vision. 

“Yes, you can, baby. I know that you can,” Jungkook replies. 

You weep hysterically while trying to breathe through the pain, but it feels impossible to push air from your lungs when all you feel is the overwhelming sensation of your insides ripping apart.

“Push, honey!”

Your doctor's words shove reality before you, that you only have one choice and that’s to bring your baby into the world. So, with all the strength you have left after hours of physical pain and torment, you push with all your might.

There’s an ear piercing scream which accompanies your efforts, but then your voice is drowned out by the sound of a shrill cry. 

You gasp harshly and slam into the bed when the immense pressure disperses from your bottom half. You’re left panting haphazardly as your body slows its momentum and your mind catches up to the world around you. 

The feeling of Jungkook’s fingers lacing through yours grounds you to the moment, but it’s your doctor’s voice which pulls your consciousness to the surface.

“Congratulations, you two, you have a beautiful little girl.”

“A girl?” You and Jungkook shout in unison. 

“We’re gonna clean her up and get her right back to you, alright?”

The world is spinning too fast. Everything seems to be happening at once, but you do your best to calm your mind so you can focus on your daughter and the man you love sitting beside you.

“Bambi, you did it,” Jungkook cheers as he leans over and kisses your forehead. “We have a daughter.”

You regain control of your eyes and turn towards the sound of his voice. He honestly looks just as bad as you. There are tear stains all across his face from crying over you being in pain, and fresh droplets are forming in the corners of his eyes at the news about your little girl.  

Reaching across to bring his face closer, you kiss him as ardently as you can with your strength almost entirely depleted. You’re both smiling too hard to even kiss properly, your teeth clashing as your tears of joy blend together until you don’t know whose are whose. 

You pull away when your doctor returns with your daughter wrapped in a blanket with a little pink hat on her head. She’s so tiny that you gasp in awe, your hands covering your mouth as you wait in eager anticipation for her to be placed in your arms. 

Your doctor smiles brightly at you as she hands you the little bundle of joy in her arms. 

There are truly no words to describe the feeling of holding her for the first time. It’s unbelievably surreal to think she’s the same little pumpkin growing in your womb all this time. She’s breathtakingly beautiful, with tufts of black hair just like her father’s sticking out from the edges of her hat. She has his button nose, too, but her lips and face shape seem to favor you. Her eyes are delicately shut while she sleeps peacefully in her carefully made cocoon.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper. “It feels weird holding you in my arms rather than my belly, huh?” She obviously doesn’t respond to your adoration, but you’ll speak nonsense to her all day anyway. “Oh, I love you so much already.”

Jungkook places a hand on your shoulder as he leans over to see his daughter up close. The two of you have identical watery grins as your happy tears continue to fall. 

“She’s so beautiful,” he whispers. 

“Yes, she is.” You gently caress her head and tap her little nose. “We made her, Koo.”

“For funsies.”

Laughing to the point your chest shakes, you nudge him in retaliation for possibly disturbing your little girl's slumber. He joins in your laughter and kisses the exposed skin of your shoulder where your hospital gown fell down. Your heart feels as though it’s swelling to ten times its normal size as you lean down to press the gentlest of kisses to her forehead. 

“You wanna hold her?” You ask him.

His eyes are wide with wonder as he nods his head slowly and reaches for her with adorable grabby hands. You pass her over as deftly as possible and admire the scene before you as Jungkook meets his daughter for the first time.

The sound he makes is a mixture between a gasp and a cry when he first comes face to face with her before he starts giggling endlessly, his nose scrunching up in pure bliss as more tears fall from his eyes. 

“Hi, my little one,” he coos. “I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.” You sniffle to hold back your own sentimental tears as you watch the two people you love most in the world interact. “Daddy loves you so much, little girl.” He chuckles to himself. “But we’re gonna have to talk, because you hurt Mommy and that just cannot go unpunished.”

You allow a hearty laugh to leave you now that you aren’t holding your daughter. 

“I can’t thank you enough, Bams. I’ll never be able to thank you enough, even if I spend every second of the rest of my life doing so. You made me a dad to the most beautiful little girl in the world.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Koo, because you made me a mom. You’ve loved and cared for me my entire life, and if the only way I can repay you is with her, then all this was worth it.” 

You kiss him softly, being careful not to jostle your daughter resting in his arms.

After a while of simply admiring your baby as she sleeps, your doctor informs you it’s almost time to go through afterbirth, although it should be easier since your water broke earlier. Once that’s done, they clamp the umbilical cord and allow Jungkook to cut it, which he does while smiling from ear to ear. 

It’s about an hour later when they tell Jungkook he can grab two loved ones at a time to come see you. You mutually agreed ahead of time that your mothers will be first, so he kisses you on the lips and your daughter on her forehead before heading to the waiting room to spread the magnificent news. 

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief as he travels down the long hallway away from the delivery room, still so utterly shocked that he’s a dad and he has such a beautiful daughter. 

He also can’t believe how amazing you did. He’s positively in awe of you and what you went through to deliver your baby. It honestly pains him to leave you both even if only for a few fleeting moments. He could spend forever just staring at you and your sweet little girl. 

When the double doors open, a massive crowd of your friends and family are behind them waiting eagerly for his arrival. They all stand at once when they see Jungkook enter, and every single person shares the same anticipatory expression. 

“It’s a girl!” He announces with his arms held high above his head. 

The entire room erupts with cheers and the horde of loved ones descends on him in an excited frenzy. He feels multiple friends messing with his hair affectionately, his mom kissing his cheek, and your friends hugging his waist. It makes his heart jump for joy at the realization of how loved you, him, and your baby are already.

“How’s Y/N?” Chaewon asks once everyone gives him some room to breathe.

“She’s fucking perfect. I mean, she was just so amazing. I can’t even comprehend it,” he explains. “She couldn’t get the epidural because she lost too much blood, but she pushed through and she’s doing great.”

“She gave birth naturally?” Nayeon asks in shock.

Jungkook nods and Nayeon clutches her heart in response. 

“When can we see her and the baby?” Yoongi asks him.

“So, we can take you back two at a time. We’re gonna start with our parents, moms first, and then you guys can play rock paper scissors to figure out the order of friends,” Jungkook states.

The large group of friends immediately start turning to one another to start the tournament while Jungkook gestures with his head for his and your mom to follow him back. 

His mom clings to his arm as they walk and Jungkook throws his other one around your mom’s shoulders, placing a loving kiss on each of their heads. Both women are still crying from the happy news, but he can tell they're practically vibrating with giddiness to see you and the baby.

Jungkook opens the door for them to enter before following closely behind. Before his feet even enter the space he hears the excited gasps from the women as their eyes land on you and their grandchild.

Your mom is at your side like lightning, bending down to kiss your forehead and ask how you’re doing. You assure her you’re doing alright while offering your sleeping daughter to her. She nods like a bobble head and gently lifts the swaddled child from your arms where she was laying. 

Jungkook’s mom gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and then leans over your mom’s shoulder to meet her first grandchild. You watch endearingly as their expressions glow with warmth and affection for her while Jungkook joins you by your bedside again. When your eyes meet, you notice he’s staring at you as though you created the entire universe from scratch. The blush on your face is involuntary, and you kiss him for the umpteenth time today to hide the pink hue.

“I love you so much, baby,” Jungkook whispers in between smooches.

You plant one last peck on him.

“I love you more.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“Are we about to have our first fight as parents?”

Eventually, after your fathers meet their granddaughter, your friends begin arriving in pairs to visit you and their niece, ending with Namjoon and Jimin, which is no surprise given their terrible history with lady luck. By the time the initial pass through of all your guests comes to a close, you’re beyond exhausted, so Jungkook takes your daughter while you rest. Your doctor bids you farewell shortly beforehand and tells you the nurses will assist with nursing for the first time once you wake up. 

Upon your return to the land of the living, the three of you are admitted to an actual hospital room rather than the delivery room, which allows for more people to come see you at one time. Although, you and Jungkook decide it’s best to hold off on visitors until after you breastfeed your daughter. 

The nurses are wonderful with helping you accomplish the daunting task, and it’s honestly easier than you expected. Your little girl latches onto you with ease and although it feels funny at first, the longer she drinks from you the more soothing it becomes. Relaxing against the pillows, you shut your eyes and appreciate the newness of motherhood while feeding your daughter. Jungkook interrupts your peaceful haven with a wistful sigh as his head falls into one of his palms. 

“I’m so jealous,” he states with his eyes locked on your chest.

The slap upside the head you give him is purely on instinct.

Your loved ones all visit again over the next twenty four hours prior to your discharge from the hospital. Before departing, the nurses ask you about a name since the process is simpler to complete while you’re still here. You and Jungkook wear matching smirks while eyeing one another. Contrary to popular belief, the two of you really did know which name to choose the moment you saw her.

You, Jungkook, and Naru return home as a family for the first time, along with your parents, later that day. Bam and Usagi are downright ecstatic to see you and Jungkook’s dad has to hold Bam back from jumping on you or Jungkook, who’s holding Naru in her baby carrier. 

It’s a flurry of movement as your moms support your back during your trek upstairs to sleep the pain away while Jungkook places Naru in her crib. Your dads immediately begin cleaning to take some chores off your plate, the two of them working in tandem to wash away the sticky bodily fluid still on the kitchen floor. Once you’re out cold and Jungkook is admiring his daughter with his head resting on the edge of her crib, your parents complete some other miscellaneous tasks around the house and feed the pets before heading home. 

After they leave, Jungkook sits in the nursery rocking chair and watches with stars in his eyes as his little girl sleeps soundly in her stolen cradle. 

It’s not totally certain why you chose Naru as her name. A couple months ago, Jungkook was rattling names off a list along with their meanings, and for some unknown reason it just stuck out. You and Jungkook both loved it amongst some other girl and boy names, and shortly after she was born, you unanimously agreed to go with that one. There’s an added cuteness bonus because Naru is the name of Usagi’s best friend in Sailor Moon, and in your little familiar they’re sisters. 

The name means to become, grow, reach, or attain, and you think the meaning suits her and the two of you so perfectly. 

When you wake after some solid sleep, it’s with a sore groan as you literally roll off the mattress to check on your family. It’s still so surreal referring to yourselves that way, but a completely lovesick smile graces your lips every time you do. 

You stop in your tracks before anyone can see you once you reach the first floor, wanting to leave the beautiful scene you’re witnessing undisturbed for a while longer.

Jungkook is horizontal across the couch with his shirt open as Naru sleeps on his bare chest. He’s been absolutely dying to try skin on skin time with her after reading how beneficial it can be, and although it may be good for Naru, the sight is terrible for you because it nearly sends you into hysterics over how precious it is. Not only that, but Usagi is curled up between his legs and Bam is watching curiously from the chair next to them. If you could pause time to admire this moment for longer than the world allows, you’d do so in a heartbeat.

A few quiet minutes pass as you watch Jungkook’s gaze flit across all the tiny features of his daughter’s face with the sweetest smile on his lips. He looks utterly in love, his eyes nearly forming into hearts as he stares at her. It makes you wonder if this is what everyone means when they mention how he looks at you. 

When you finally make yourself known and pad over to the couch in your slippers, Jungkook’s face somehow lights up even more, his smile growing exponentially as you sit beside his legs.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says softly. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing alright, just sore,” you tell him. 

“Anything I can do?”

“No.” You shake your head with an enchanted smile as you brush some of his hair back and caress his cheekbone. “You’re doing everything already.”

He smiles gratefully and twists his head to kiss your wrist. The three of you remain there for a while, you and Jungkook only speaking every so often as your daughter naps peacefully and he brushes her tiny strands of hair away from her face. 

BACK TO ZERO

The low, dulcet sound of Jungkook singing in his lower register forces your eyes open. Blinking a couple times to bring your mind to reality, you turn your head to see Jungkook beside you in bed, softly singing to Naru as her cries subside and she falls into a deep slumber. 

You reach for them, running your hand along Jungkook’s bicep so he knows you’re awake. He looks at you with a saccharine smile and whispers good morning as to not disturb the child sleeping in his arms. Bending down, you place a gentle kiss on her forehead before sitting up to kiss Jungkook where he’s resting against the headboard. 

“You should’ve woken me up, Koo,” you whisper.

“It’s okay, Bambi. I got it,” he replies with an affirmative smile. 

Jungkook’s been doing more than his fair share of waking up during all hours of the night to care for your daughter, even though you originally agreed to take turns. He claims it’s because you’re still recovering from pushing her out of your body while he sat and watched, and it only makes sense for you to rest while he does the heavy lifting. You appreciate him more than words can express, but guilt still eats away at you everytime you see dark bags under his eyes from the fatigue.

Sometimes he doesn’t have a choice but to wake you, because as much as your daughter is undeniably smitten by him, sometimes a girl just needs her mother. 

If waking you is necessary, Jungkook will do so in the softest way possible, usually by pressing featherlight kisses all over your face and quietly telling you Naru needs you. Even when it’s your expertise required, he’ll follow you into the nursery while you either feed her or give her some much needed mommy and me time. Once her cries subside and she falls asleep, Jungkook will take you by the hand and tuck you into bed with a promise of a few more hours of rest. 

When she isn’t being finicky, she’ll fall asleep in seconds to the feeling of Jungkook rocking her or singing her lullabies. You genuinely believe she recognizes his voice from when he sang to her in your womb because her eyes always light up in wonder whenever he starts a new tune. 

She’s only been in your lives for a month, but somehow you love her more than anything else in the world. It’s strange for something to have a complete occupation of your heart without knowing them very long, but Naru makes it easy. Even though she can be quite the terror when she’s incessantly crying and screaming, and her diapers smell like sewage, she’s the absolute sweetest baby. When she’s being held, she always curls into the person’s chest and lays her little hand on them, or she’ll tightly grip their fingers between her tiny ones. She smiles constantly, no matter if you’re simply admiring her or playing peek-a-boo.

Naru definitely looks more like Jungkook, which is exactly what you were hoping for, although she does share some features with you. 

The first time she blinked her eyes open and you saw a twin pair of the big, boba eyes you fell in love with, you nearly wept. In fact, they’re so large they nearly take up half her face. You’ve already captured at least a thousand pictures of them side by side, with Jungkook often forcing his eyes open wider so they match hers. 

Your phone is positively overflowing with photos from the last thirty days, mostly selfies of you and Jungkook with your beautiful daughter, pictures of just her, or secret candid shots of Jungkook holding or playing with her. His phone is much the same, at least you assume so given that he’s always pretending not to be snapping photos whenever you’re with Naru.

“What time is it?” You ask Jungkook.

“Four in the morning.”

You groan quietly enough to avoid waking the sleeping infant and stand for a bathroom break before returning to your peaceful slumber. Your body is still in shambles from the birthing process, although you’re steadily recovering. Some basic functions are still a struggle and the extreme fatigue is enough to keep you in bed all day. Jungkook’s doing his best to take care of you while also caring for Naru, but both your parents come over often to assist in whatever way they can. 

Your friends are visiting for the first time later today because they’ve been begging nonstop to see Naru again. It’s not that you didn’t want them here, but you and Jungkook felt some alone time as a family was necessary to settle into your new routine. 

Both friend groups are visiting this afternoon since Mina and Taehyung are officially dating and it’s simpler to invite everyone over at once. You’re honestly elated about seeing your friends, desperately in need of some social interaction that isn’t with a tiny human or your boyfriend. 

Referring to Jungkook as your boyfriend is quite the adjustment, especially since the illusive term doesn’t hold nearly enough weight for what he truly is to you. Best friend still feels more fitting even though there’s a platonic connotation, baby daddy lowers him to a status far beneath him, and the word partner doesn’t feel intimate enough for your connection. So, boyfriend it is for now, even though Jungkook continuously makes references to replacing the current ring on your finger with a different one. 

You always reprimand him when he makes those comments, telling him it’s way too soon for both your relationship and being parents, and he assures you he agrees, but you know your hopeless romantic best friend better than anyone, and it’s obvious he’s itching to get down on one knee. 

The thought does leave you embarrassingly giddy, but even if you did get engaged, you wouldn’t wed for a while given that no one wants to plan a wedding and raise an infant simultaneously. Right now, you’re perfectly content with your current ring and the meaning behind it. Ironically, poor Jungkook keeps muttering to himself about how he’s ever going to top it when he does pick out an actual engagement ring. 

Upon returning to bed, Jungkook purses his lips towards you and you placate him with a tender smooch before plopping into bed. Unfortunately, you aren’t comfortable for long because your breasts start to hurt from needing to either feed your daughter or pump milk for later. Since she’s currently sleeping like the little angel she is, you grab your breast pump and mirror Jungkook’s position against the headboard while the machine works its magic. 

“You always look like an alien when you do that,” Jungkook jokes. 

“Like a sexy alien or an E.T. type?”

“Totally sexy, so fucking sexy,” he replies without missing a beat.

You blush bright pink and avoid his eyes before it gets any worse. Nothing about motherhood makes you feel even remotely sexy or desirable and yet there’s still hunger in Jungkook’s eyes whenever he sees you.

His love for you is genuinely the only thing that’s gotten you through the first month of parenthood and you can’t imagine doing this with anyone else. He’s always attentive to both you and Naru, never complains when you ask him to do something, and does everything in his power to relieve the weight on your shoulders. If there's a world where he didn’t accidentally knock you up, you don’t wish to live in it. 

Eventually, you and Jungkook are able to enter dreamland again after he places Naru in her crib. When he returns to the bedroom, he pulls you into his arms from behind and you melt into his warm embrace. His lips dance along your neck, jaw, and cheek while you hum happily at the familiar sensation. It’s been difficult not having dedicated alone time since Naru was born, so you cherish moments like these when you can relax as just the two of you.

Naru’s lovely cries wake you about four hours later, and you seize the opportunity to attend to her before Jungkook can steal your turn. 

When you reach the nursery, Usagi is posted up outside the door as she often is whenever your little girl is crying. Your adorable cat has fallen head over heels for your daughter and it makes you swoon whenever they interact. Bam’s also nearby, his ears perking up when you open the nursery door and he hears Naru crying. Of the two of them he’s taken on the protector role, turning him into quite the guard dog lately. You don’t allow them inside the room, but give them both a quick rub to thank them for being so caring. 

Naru is twisting and turning in her crib as she cries, her tiny hands reaching for you as soon as you appear before her eyes.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” you coo as you scoop her up. 

Cradling her to your chest, you soothe her by patting her back while she lays her head on your shoulder and cries into your shirt. One thing about newborns is it’s easy to figure out what they need since it can only be one of two things. So, you carry her to the changing table and diligently clean her up before getting her back into her onesie. She stretches her chunky fingers at you to hold her again and you immediately oblige, rocking her in your arms as you move across the room. 

The door creaks open as you’re laying her down again, but there’s no need to turn around to know who’s entering the room. 

The suspicion is confirmed when two strong arms wrap around your middle and you feel your boyfriend’s lips on your shoulder. As Jungkook continues pressing chaste kisses to your skin, you affectionately boop your daughter’s nose and watch as an adorable yawn takes over her face and her fingers curl into tiny fists.

Jungkook is still kissing along your shoulder and up your neck, but he isn’t trying to initiate anything, his lips are caressing you in a way you know means he’s merely doing it because he loves you and to silently thank you for doing everything you do. 

Your hand travels behind your head to play with his hair, tugging on it gently so you can hear his sweet laugh in your ear. 

“Wish we could stay like this forever, Bams.”

“Me, too,” you whisper. 

Turning around in his hold, you capture his neck with both arms and yank him closer for a real kiss. Jungkook automatically tugs you into him with his fingers clutching your waist, causing your back to arch as he deepens the kiss by coaxing your mouth open. 

It’s important to make time for intimacy even if it can’t lead anywhere yet, and truth be told, your inherent need to feel his lips on yours never wanes. You wonder if this so-called honeymoon phase will ever go away or if you just love him so much that this is what forever is going to be like. 

Jungkook grabs your jaw with one hand as his tongue slips into your mouth, and if he wasn’t holding you the action would probably send you falling into Naru’s cradle. You kiss him a hundred times a day, at least, and he still manages to make your knees weak every time. The two of you moan in harmony when your tongues meet and you press yourself harder against him in response. His chest is warm and solid and you can feel his steady heartbeat beneath his shirt. 

“I love you, babygirl,” he confesses quietly. 

He’s kissing you again before you’re able to reciprocate his devotion, but you part for the sake of oxygen a moment later and leave your foreheads touching. 

“I love you, too.”

You allow Naru to sleep in peace and exit the nursery holding hands. Jungkook leads you down the hall to his bedroom, which is technically shared now. There are plans to turn what was your bedroom back into Jungkook’s office since you certainly aren’t using it anymore, and you need the space where his desk currently sits for all of your furniture. 

Waking up in Jungkook’s arms is hands down the most wonderful feeling in the world, on par with holding Naru while she smiles radiantly at you. 

Upon returning to the confines of your bedroom, Jungkook brings you into him again so he can kiss you fervently. His intensity pulls a chuckle from your lungs as you shamelessly make out in the middle of the room. 

“How many more weeks again?” He asks breathlessly, referring to when you’ll be cleared for sexual activity.

“I’m not sure, since whoever decided on six weeks clearly never pushed a child out of their vagina,” you respond. 

Jungkook giggles while leaning in to kiss you again. He graces you with one last peck before heading to grab some towels so you can prepare for the day ahead.

“Well, whenever you are ready, just know I’ll be really gentle.”

“I don’t even think you believe that, Jungkook.”

His smile is riddled with faux guilt when he returns to your side. 

“Yeah, no, that’s a total lie.”

You smack his chest with the towel in retaliation, but you’re already laughing to reveal your true feelings. The two of you head to the bathroom together, making sure to grab the baby monitor so you can hear if Naru wakes up. 

Showering together is another sparing moment when you can just be in each other’s presence without any of the noise, so it’s become routine lately. Sometimes it gets interrupted by your daughter and one of you, usually Jungkook, has to run out in a towel to console her. One time, he still had shampoo in his hair and you carefully crafted a little bun on his head so it didn’t drip into his eyes. 

Jungkook turns the water on while you brush your teeth. It’s adorably domestic and reminds you just how far you’ve come since you first moved in more than six months ago. 

Your boyfriend strips as you're washing the toothpaste from your mouth and it takes everything in you not to drool into the sink. No matter how many times you see him naked, every glance feels like the first and you go dizzy over the sight. 

“Bambi, stop ogling me,” he teases. 

“Stop looking like that, then.”

“Oh, well excuse me.”

“You’re excused,” you reply, your arms crossing over your chest in victory. 

A sly grin appears as Jungkook begins robbing you of your own clothes. He caresses your torso once you’re naked in front of him, massaging your skin with his warm fingers until he reaches your hips and squeezes them with a quiet growl.

You frown involuntarily, your usual confidence noticeably absent in the skin you’re currently wearing. Some of the baby weight is gone, about ten or so pounds, but there are stretch marks and extra skin that didn’t previously exist staring back at you in the mirror.

“What is it, Bams?” He asks with evident concern. 

There’s confusion over your negative reaction painting Jungkook’s features as he eyes you inquisitively. 

“It’s unfair,” you pout. 

“What is, baby?” 

Your chin is pitched up by Jungkook’s pointer finger so he can watch your expressions when you respond. 

“How sexy you are,” you answer.

“Unfair to whom? I’m yours, aren’t I?” 

Blush creeps across your bare chest and neck, but his sweet words still don’t dispel your insecurities.

“Yeah, but I’m all flabby and misshapen while you still look freaking perfect.”

“Bambi, you look beyond perfect. There’s nothing that could make you not the most beautiful woman in the world,” Jungkook states earnestly.

“You’re only saying that because you’re in love with me,” you argue.

“No, no,” Jungkook says with a shake of his head. “I thought that long before I fell in love with you, Bams.” He can sense your disbelief, so he bends his knees until he’s staring directly into your eyes. “Do I need to kiss every inch of you to prove it? Because I fucking will.”

“No,” you mumble. His knuckles brush your cheekbone and you sigh. “I’m sorry, I just don’t feel like myself right now, you know?” 

“No need to apologize, baby, just tell me how to help and I will.” 

His everlasting love and consideration for you bring a smile to your face and you kiss him briefly before leading him towards the shower.

“You don’t need to do anything more than you already are,” you tell him. “And maybe once I’m fully recovered you can bring me with you to the gym so I can get back to normal faster.” 

Jungkook enthusiastically nods at your proposal of working out together. He’s been begging you for a while to join him at the gym, mostly because he wants to do push ups over you and kiss you everytime he goes down.

He holds you steady via a hand on your waist as you enter the shower before joining you under the falling water, keeping your back pressed to his chest while the steam encompasses you both. His lips find your neck as he slowly kisses across your wet skin, except unlike before, there’s fire behind his touch as he ravishes you in sensual affection. The water drenching you both only serves to up the intensity, the feeling of him licking up the droplets while he sucks on your throat sending you into euphoric bliss.

“Koo,” you moan, leaning your head on his shoulder as your eyes shut.

“Just because I can’t fuck you doesn’t mean I won’t make you feel good, babygirl,” he tells you. 

Which is precisely what he does as he continues kissing you in all the spots he knows drive you crazy while his hands caress you everywhere within reach. They eventually find purchase on your tits and he tactfully massages them in his big hands. 

His touch turns your brain to mush, your mind descending into a pool of pleasure as you relish in the sensation of his hands on you. It takes all your willpower not to say fuck it and let him push his cock into your cunt. If there wasn’t an adorable little girl who’ll be waking up soon, you’d let him manhandle you for hours until the water runs ice cold. 

You turn around abruptly upon deciding you want to taste him rather than feel him, and Jungkook catches on instantly, walking you both under the showerhead until your back meets the wall as his lips descend on yours. 

The kiss is deliciously sloppy from the combination of tongues chasing each other and water pouring down. Your hands rake into Jungkook’s dripping strands of black hair as you moan unabashedly into his mouth. One of Jungkook’s hands slams on the shower wall beside your head while the other catches your waist to keep your body pressed to his. Everything about it feels absolutely filthy even though you’re in a place meant for cleanliness. 

“I didn’t even know it was possible to want someone like this,” Jungkook whispers. “All the goddamn fucking time, baby.”

“Me, either,” you reply through a moan as Jungkook begins kissing down your neck again. “I don’t know how we went so long without it.”

He laughs while shaking his head where it resides in the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“Because we’re idiots.”

There’s only a split second between his response and his lips latching onto your nipple, his hand inching up your spine to fondle the opposite breast. It forces a gasp out of you as you desperately grasp his hair in your hands. He plays with your tits in sync, sucking on your pebbled nub in perfect time with the movement of his fingers. An incoherent curse passes through your lips when his ministrations cause you to lactate into his mouth, and he groans in delight as he laps up the milk coming from your nipple with his tongue. The act is supremely messy because Jungkook is purposely missing some of your breast milk so he can lick it off your skin before the water washes it away.

He alternates between drinking straight from the source and allowing his tongue to collect it, but neither choice is better for your sanity. This isn’t the first time he’s acted upon his insatiable urges, just last week he wrapped his lips around your nipple after you were forced awake at three in the morning to check on Naru. The feeling of him sucking on you while you lactate was strange initially, but after a moment it made your head spin with pleasure as he played with your tits and fed himself from your body. 

“Fuck, Koo.” 

Your head hits the shower tile while he moans pathetically around your nipple.

“I’ll apologize to our daughter for stealing her food later,” he mumbles into your skin.

You chuckle and Jungkook naturally smiles just from the sound of your happiness. He leaves a final kiss on your breast before returning to your lips with a satisfied hum. 

You’ve never had shower sex before and unfortunately, today won’t be the day, but after this it’s certainly going on your list. 

Your lips continue clashing while you caress each other for an unknown amount of time, but when you do finally catch your breath, the water has begun cooling down. There’s a major responsibility to someone other than yourselves looming outside the bathroom door, so you stop being sexual deviants and actually wash up for the day. 

Jungkook pours some soap on your luffa so he can work it into your skin, not missing a single inch as he glides the sponge along your body. You do the same for him while he gathers shampoo in his hands and starts cleansing your hair. 

He’s sporting the most adorable look of concentration while he scrubs the shampoo on your scalp until it turns to suds. Repeating the motions on his own hair, you dig your nails between his strands and make him whine from the soothing sensation on his head. The two of you finish up quickly, turning off the water and handing each other your respective towels to dry off.

After getting dressed, you return to Naru’s nursery to wake her up and feed her. Ironically, you have to bottle feed her because Jungkook used up all the milk collecting in your breasts for her morning meal. She looks positively delighted to see you once she’s awake, a heart stopping giggle coming from her tiny body as you pick her up. 

Jungkook says he’ll prepare for your guests to arrive while you care for Naru, which includes dolling her up for her visitors. You don’t normally dress her in actual clothes, usually leaving her in a onesie for simplicity, but you want your friends to see her in some of the clothes they bought her. When she naps, you always swaddle her in the blanket Chaewon made and most of her toys come from your friends. 

You trudge downstairs with her resting on your shoulder to find Jungkook cleaning up some lingering dishes in the kitchen. Bam bounds over excitedly to greet you and you use your free hand to throw his bone across the room after petting his head. Usagi follows close behind at your feet, per usual, her big eyes staring up at you and Naru as you walk towards the kitchen. 

There’s a blindingly bright smile on Jungkook’s face when you enter the room and he instinctively gestures for your daughter. Gladly passing her over, you watch in endearment as he nuzzles his nose against hers and she makes an adorable cooing sound. 

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says in his baby voice. She giggles and reaches for his cheeks at the sound of him praising her. “Yeah? You want your daddy?” 

Her giggles grow louder when he blows raspberries on each of her chubby cheeks. She cuddles up against his chest as he holds her close, her eyes shutting serenely at the feeling of her dad’s warmth surrounding her. Jungkook bounces her in his arms which causes her to smile adoringly at him and her little toothless grin makes your heart sing. 

You automatically take over for him on the chore front since Naru clearly wants some daddy-daughter time. 

When she wakes up after falling asleep in Jungkook’s warm embrace, it’s obvious she’s uncomfortable and needs her diaper changed. You never predicted being able to tell which cries mean what, but you’ve memorized every single noise she makes at this point. Jungkook volunteers for dumpster duty while you finish up downstairs. 

When they return, she’s still crying incessantly, only it’s soft whimpers you both know mean she wants her mommy. Jungkook gracefully hands her to you, ensuring she’s secure in your arms before letting go. You bring her to the couch and lay her in your lap, holding her little hands and moving them in circles to soothe her.

“Hi, sweet Naru.” Her cries diminish as soon as she hears your voice. “I love you so much, my darling girl. Yeah, that’s right.” 

She makes the cutest baby sound imaginable and squeezes your fingers to the best of her ability. You coo in adoration and bend down to kiss her tummy so she giggles even more. Jungkook clicks his tongue over your shoulder. 

“I always think she’s such a daddy’s girl until you get your hands on her,” he comments. 

“She is a daddy’s girl, Koo. In fact, she may be more obsessed with you than I am.” You boop her nose and her smile grows while she sticks her tongue out. “Isn’t that right, Naru? Mommy’s gonna have to fight you for him, aren’t I, little girl?”

The noise she makes sounds suspiciously like a yes. Jungkook blushes deep red, his love for his daughter physically manifesting on his cheeks. 

“I love her more than anything, but you’ll always be my girl, Bams,” he says with a kiss to your cheek.

An hour later the first of your guests arrives. You purposely told them all different times, in about ten minute increments, so everyone gets devoted time with Naru without fighting over her. Jihyo is first, and she has enough gifts in her hands to fill the entire nursery. She squeals and jumps a couple inches off the ground in delight when you appear before her with Naru. The gift bags fall to the floor with a plop as she extends her arms to take her niece from you. 

“Naru, my sweetheart!” She cheers.

You and Jungkook are able to take a much needed parenting reprieve as your friends slowly pile in and pass your daughter around like a hot potato. Once all thirteen of them have arrived, everyone spreads out between the living room and the kitchen. 

Naru is currently sound asleep in Yoongi’s arms, the usually expressionless man wearing a face of complete joy as he watches her with his gummy smile even though she’s not awake to return it. 

“I still don’t understand how the youngest of us is a dad before anyone else,” Jin says as he chews on his slice of pizza.

“Because he’s a doofus,” Jimin responds. 

“Hey! I may be a doofus, but I took part in making the cutest little girl ever,” Jungkook defends himself. “In fact, you could say I’m about fifty percent of the reason she’s so adorable!”

“Kook, you got to creampie the hottest woman we all know and then magically have a child nine months later. I’ll give you five percent tops,” Chaewon argues. 

Everyone chuckles at Chaewon’s extremely high level overview of pregnancy.

“She seems really well behaved,” Yunjin comments. 

“She is,” you say proudly. “Naru is a little angel.”

“You won’t be saying that in a few months,” Namjoon says. “She’ll be a demon once she starts teething.”

“Oh, remind me not to visit around then,” Hoseok adds.

As if she heard them talking smack about her, Naru wakes up and begins fussing around in Yoongi’s arms. His eyes go wide at the foreign behavior and he immediately locks eyes with Jungkook across the room for assistance. Your boyfriend smiles at his friend’s nervousness and goes to grab your daughter before she starts crying 

When she instantaneously settles down at the feeling of Jungkook holding her, all seven girls harmoniously gasp in awe. 

“Oh my gosh, she loves you, Jeon!” Eunchae states. 

“I would sure hope so,” he replies with a proud grin. 

He kisses her head a couple times and she nuzzles against his shoulder, tucking her face into his neck and laying her adorable, chunky, baby hand on his chest. 

“Wow, never thought I’d see the day,” Taehyung notes from where he sits with a hand on Mina’s thigh.

“So, who’s next? I think Naru needs a playmate, right?” Nayeon asks the room, her eyebrows rising when she meets Mina’s gaze. 

Mina aggressively shakes her head while putting her hands up in surrender.

“Nuh uh, not yet, especially not after hearing about what Y/N went through,” she states.

“How are you doing, Y/N?” Tzuyu changes the subject to ask.

“I’m recovering, some days are worse than others,” you answer. “I honestly thought I was going to die.”

“I still can’t believe you did it without any pain meds,” Chaewon says with a shake of her head. 

“You and me both.”

“It was genuinely pure magic,” Jungkook comments, his hand gently patting Naru’s back. “She’s a fucking goddess.”

You send him a charming smile from across the room and he blows a kiss at you in return. 

“It was worth it, that’s all I know,” you respond.

“It totally was, look at your little girl! She’s perfect,” Eunchae says. 

“We can only hope the rest of us schmucks make children as lovely as Naru someday,” Jimin states while holding his glass up to cheers. “To our niece!”

Everyone raises their own glasses in solidarity, except for Jungkook, who lifts Naru up Lion King-style as she giggles and kicks her little feet in joy. 

The night continues with Naru being passed around the room a couple more times. She seems to enjoy her uncle Jin the most, probably because he’s an expert at making funny faces that cause her to cheerfully scream and laugh. Jihyo also garners much of her attention, with Naru making grabby hands at her every so often. Mina jokes it’s because Jihyo has big tits and your daughter is getting her confused with a source of nutrients. 

Your friends eventually say their goodbyes until all that remains are the vast amount of gifts they brought. You and Jungkook mutually agree to put them away in the morning and use this precious time for quality family bonding in bed. 

The two of you lay on your stomachs with Naru between you on the mattress. You both take turns tickling her and blowing raspberries on her stomach and thighs just to hear the perfect laugh you adore so much. It feels like pure, unadulterated bliss, and with Bam and Usagi both curled up by your feet, you feel utterly complete as a little family of five. 

Resting your head on your arm, you gaze at Jungkook as he admires his little girl. The adoration in his sparkling eyes makes you feel eternally grateful to your past self for the decision she made. Here you thought you were sleeping with Jungkook just to try it, and now your heart is reborn in more ways than one. It’s swollen to max capacity with both romantic love for your best friend and unconditional love for your daughter. 

Jungkook notices your stare and raises an eyebrow at you. When you don’t respond, he leans over Naru to kiss you and pull you from your reverie.  

“You gonna tell me why you’re looking at me like that, Bambi?” 

You shake your head.

“I don’t have to because you already know,” you respond. 

He smiles beautifully and tucks some of your hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah, I do.”

Jungkook kisses you again, smoothly gliding his lips over yours while he pours his love for you into the gesture. Ardently returning his kiss, you caress his cheek with one hand and move your lips in a gentle harmony with his. Your foreheads meet after pulling away and upon looking sideways, you see Naru playfully rolling side to side between you. You share a heartwarming laugh at her mannerisms, both of you so completely taken by your daughter and each other. 

“I’m so glad I asked you to try something new that night, Bams. Now we get to do everything together for the rest of our lives, starting with parenting.”

“Mm, same here, Koo.” You lean back and rest your head in your hand. “I wonder what other new stuff we’ll get up to.”

Jungkook hums inquisitively and tongues his cheek as he ponders his answer, but then his eyes light up with a mischievous grin. 

“Marriage?”

Taglist: @lovingkoalaface @starcandybby @junniesoleilkth @keylime4eva @kissyfacekoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @spideyjimin @jjeonjjk7 @joonlover1207 @annpeachy @rexana19 @heartwith0uthe @kosmos1307 @minyoongi7016 @magicalnachocreator @misschelliejeon @bubblyi3 @bhonbhon @polnaraffsrack @amarawayne @majesticjung-97 @kmpj9 @upo1313 @songbyeonkim @kikikaaa @glowjuli @avawants2havefun @hyeinwluv85s @someonegoood @kyljjk @lalaren @dna2723 @tteokbokibyjk @tatyhend @kookienooki @ana-marais98 @gimeow @importantflowersblog43 @minghaosimp @belleilichil @neurospicynugget @missdumpling190811 @jungkooksnerniemilk @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @kayswatanabe @fancypeacepersona @jeonsgf-97 @star-my @neg-l3ct @kelsyx33

[drewsephrry]

Love Island - Episode 14: Brutal

pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader

words: 5.5k

warnings: cuss words, sexual innuendos

series masterlist

The sun rises beautifully over Mallorca, spilling into the villa as the islanders slowly stir awake. Soft greetings pass between beds as they begin another day in paradise.

Rafe and Y/N are still tangled together, her face buried in his chest like it's second nature. One of his hands lazily rubs her back while the other reaches for his sunglasses, sliding them on with practiced ease.

Across the room, Cleo sits up with a grin, leans over to give Pope a quick kiss and then tiptoes toward Y/N’s bed.

“Good morning, sunshine.” She whispers, plopping down beside her. Y/N groans in protest, not moving.

“She says good morning back.” Rafe says dryly, earning a laugh from Cleo as she gently shakes Y/N’s shoulder.

“Come on, get up!”

Y/N cracks one eye open, staring at Cleo like she’s just committed a personal betrayal. 

“What did I ever do to you?” She mumbles, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“I need you for something.” Cleo tugs her camisole strap back onto her shoulder and leans in. Y/N immediately sits up.

“What are we baking?”

“You know me too well.” Cleo grins. “Okay, Pope loves chocolate. So, like, cookies? Brownies? Something cute. I’ll help, I promise.” She adds quickly, glancing around to make sure Pope isn't listening. Most of the girls are heading upstairs and a few boys wander outside. Pope is still lounging in bed, clearly not ready to move.

“Brownies are faster. We can add frosting or something fancy on top.” Y/N says, already reaching for her stuff on the bedside table. “Let me wash my face and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Cleo hugs her tightly. Y/N smiles, squeezing her back before Cleo heads toward the back doors.

Just as Y/N grabs her stuff, Rafe speaks up behind her.

“Wow. No ‘good morning’ for me?”

She turns to find him sitting up with his arms crossed and one brow raised, playfully wounded. She smirks, crawling back onto the bed and leaning over him, not-so-innocently.

“Good morning.” She murmurs, planting a quick kiss on his lips, then pulling back suddenly with a hand over her mouth. “Wait, ew. I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“I don’t care.” He mutters, leaning in again. But she dodges him with a grin. 

“Later. I promise.” She backs away, eyebrows raised in challenge.

“I’m holding you to that.” He replies.

She giggles and bolts upstairs.

Later, in the kitchen, Y/N leans against the counter beside Cleo, both girls focused on carefully piping frosting onto the cupcakes. Across the villa, Rafe and Kelce are lounging on the daybed, catching their breath and hydrating after their morning workout. Y/N glances in their direction, then turns to Cleo. 

“Hey, Cleo?”

“Yeah?” Cleo looks up from the bowl, wiping her hands on a towel.

“How are you and Pope doing?” Y/N asks, hopping onto the counter, swinging her legs and Cleo’s face softens instantly. 

“We’re good. Really good, actually. He’s so sweet, like, genuinely. It’s still a little awkward sometimes, but things are going really well.”

Y/N nods, watching her. 

“Have you guys…you know. Been intimate? At all?”

Cleo lets out a slow breath, considering her words.

“We’ve had a couple solid makeout sessions, yeah. But nothing more than that. I don’t know…it just feels weird knowing everyone’s right there. It's hard to feel comfortable.”

Y/N hums in agreement, twisting the cap off her water bottle and fidgeting with the strap.

“What about you and Rafe? Don’t tell me nothing’s happened.” Cleo narrows her eyes slightly. Y/N’s gaze drops to her bottle. She doesn’t answer right away and that silence speaks louder than anything.

Cleo clocks the look instantly and gently changes gears.

“Okay, okay, switching topics, what kind of frosting are we thinking, chef?”

Y/N blinks and straightens up, visibly grateful. 

“Umm…maybe peanut butter? That could be cute.” She suggests.

She hops down and heads to the cupboard, pulling out ingredients. As she sets them on the counter and begins mixing, Cleo rests a hand on her shoulder.

“You know you don’t have to rush anything, right?” She says softly. Y/N looks up at her.

“If you’re not ready with him…that’s totally okay.”

“I am.” Y/N admits quietly. “I just…I don’t know. I think I’m scared.”

“Scared how?” Cleo frowns. 

“I haven’t been in many relationships. And I don’t want to mess this up. Not with him.” Y/N shakes her head.

“You won’t.” Cleo assures her without hesitation. “Have you told him any of this?”

“He kind of tried last night.” Y/N says, voice barely above a whisper. “To take things further. And I panicked. And I pushed him away.”

Her hands are back on the spatula now, stirring again just to stay busy.

“I feel like I hurt his feelings or something.”

“No way.” Cleo says firmly. “That boy is obsessed with you. He’s not going anywhere because you set a boundary.”

“I think I just need some time to figure it all out.” Y/N exhales shakily, eyes still focused on the frosting.

“Then take it.” Cleo says gently, rubbing her back, smiling at her.

Confessional - Cleo “Y/N’s like my little sister. I care about her so much. Seeing her stress over where things stand with Rafe, especially about intimacy, just breaks my heart. She’s so beautiful, so kind and honestly one of the wisest people here. And I get why she’s anxious, but she needs to know she’s allowed to go at her own pace. Rafe will wait. And if he doesn’t? He’s not worth her.” She shakes her head.

Kelce and Rafe lounge on the daybed, sweat cooling under the shade of the tree. A soft breeze cuts the heat as they sip from their water bottles, catching their breath from the workout.

After a beat of silence, Rafe glances over.

“Hey…can I ask you something?”

Kelce nods, chewing absentmindedly on his straw.

“You know her better than anyone in here.” Rafe starts, hesitating.  “And I told myself I wouldn’t ever ask you anything about your relationship with her, because honestly, I cannot hear all that, but…” He pauses, taking a deep breath.

“Has she always been kind of…hesitant with the more intimate stuff?”

Kelce sighs, lowering his bottle.

“Yeah.” He says quietly. “Y/N’s always been like that. Cautious. When we were together, it took her a while to fully open up. Not because she didn’t care, but because trust isn’t something she gives lightly. Especially when it comes to physical stuff.”

Rafe nods slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“I respect that. Like, I don’t want her to ever feel pressured. But last night was our first night back in the same bed…we were kissing and I thought maybe we’d go a little further. Nothing major. Just…a step.” He sighs, frustrated more at himself than anything. “But then she got all tense, kind of pulled back. And of course I stopped. No question. I just…I don’t know, it threw me off. Made me wonder if I’d messed something up.”

Kelce watches him for a second, then speaks evenly.

“Y/N likes you. A lot. That much is obvious. But you have to let her move at her own pace. She’s not someone you can rush. She needs to feel totally safe first. If you want this to work, let her lead when it comes to that stuff. She’ll let you in when she’s ready.”

“Yeah. Got it. Thanks, man.” Rafe nods again, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. 

“Anytime.” Kelce shrugs. “You don’t have to tiptoe around me when it comes to her. I’m not holding on to anything. I just want her to be happy.”

He glances toward the kitchen, jaw tightening almost involuntarily.

“And from what I’ve seen…she is. With you. So don’t screw it up.”

Rafe follows his gaze, Y/N is laughing at something Cleo said, the two of them looking carefree and glowing.

“I won’t.” He says quietly.

“Good.” Kelce gives a small nod. 

The two lapse into silence again, but there’s a mutual understanding between them now, unspoken, a little uneasy, but real.

As the afternoon sun blazes over the villa, islanders sprawl across the yard, some tanning, some swimming, others deep in conversation, while Pope and Cleo enjoy the brownies. But the lazy vibe is cut short by the familiar ping of a text.

“I got a text!” John B calls out, already grinning as everyone scrambles toward him.

“Islanders, it’s time to find out how well you really know each other in the Higher or Lower challenge. #numbersdontlie #truthhurts.” He reads.

Cheers erupt, but Y/N shares a nervous glance with Sarah and Maddy as they slump back onto the couch.

“This is gonna get messy.” She mutters and both girls nod knowingly.

Soon, the islanders are split into two teams, seated on opposite bleachers across the lawn. In front of them, photos of each girl stand in a row, heart stickers hiding the key numbers.

Pope steps up with a deck of cards and a grin that says he’s loving every second of this. He holds up the first card.

“I’ll read out a fact about one of the girls and reveal a number tied to it. Then the boys have to guess whether the next girl's number is higher or lower. Each correct guess earns a point. Winning team takes it all.” He explains the rules and then, glances at the first photo. 

“What’s the most amount of money the girls have ever spent, on a man, in one occasion?” He reads and peels off the heart sticker from Maddy’s photo.

“Maddy has spent…$550.”

The boys react instantly.

“Damn.” JJ whistles. “What was that for?”

“I was dating this guy and he lost his AirPods…so I bought him AirPods Max.” Maddy shrugs. 

A mix of impressed and mildly horrified expressions ripple through the bleachers. Pope moves to the next photo.

“Alright, Kiara. Higher or lower than $550?”

The boys huddle quickly.

“Lower.” Topper decides.

“Yeah, definitely lower.” Ryan agrees.

“$200.” Pope reveals. The boys nod, satisfied. Alyssa’s up next and they guess lower, but she surprises them with $250. Cleo follows and as expected by the boys, she’s lower at $150. For Abigail’s number, the boys guess higher and they’re right, again, at $450.

Pope steps to the next photo and smirks. 

“Okay…Y/N. Higher or lower?”

“Higher.” Rafe says without hesitation, arms crossed.

“I’m not so sure. She never spent that much when she was with me.” Kelce raises a brow. 

Despite Kelce’s skepticism, the boys stick with higher and Pope peels back the sticker. 

“Y/N has spent…$300.” He reveals as laughter erupts as “Told y’all.” Kelce leans back smugly. 

The boys look over at Y/N, waiting for the backstory.

“I took Kelce to a Knicks game.” She shrugs, hands resting on the wooden seat.

“Oh my god, yes! I completely forgot about that!” Kelce’s face lights up.

She laughs, shaking her head.

Confessional - Y/N “I feel like $300 is totally reasonable.” She says with a shrug and a grin.

Pope moves to the last photo in the lineup, Sarah.

“Alright. What do we think about Sarah?” He grins.

“Definitely higher.” Topper says without hesitation.

“She’s bougie.” JJ smirks, making the girls burst out laughing as Sarah flips her hair, proudly owning it.

Pope peels back the sticker and the boys erupt.

“$2,000?” Pope yells, holding up the card.

“I booked us a trip.” Sarah says casually with a shrug. The girls gasp in admiration and even the guys look impressed.

Pope focuses back on the stack of cards, grabs the next one and reads it before smirking. 

“Okay, okay. Boys, this one’s juicy.”

Everyone leans in.

“How many nudes have the girls sent?”

The yard instantly fills with oohs and laughter. Pope turns to Maddy’s photo first, peels back the sticker.

“Maddy has sent…thirty.”

The boys look over at her, eyebrows raised.

“I’ve had two serious relationships.” Maddy explains, unbothered. “One of them ended up being long-distance. So...”

The group nods understandingly. Pope moves down the line.

“What do we think about Kiara? More or less?”

“I’m saying more.” JJ throws in and the boys agree after a quick debate. Pope lifts the sticker. 

“Fifteen.”

The boys blink, mildly surprised. 

“Wow.” Ryan mutters.

Next up, Alyssa.

“Higher. Definitely.” The guys say in unison.

Pope reveals the number, three digits.

“In the hundreds?” Topper laughs.

“I’m a tattoo artist. Let’s just say...a lot of clients slide into my DMs for reasons that aren’t about tattoos.” Alyssa smirks.

The girls squeal in shock.

Confessional - Alyssa “What can I say?” She grins. “I’ve had a few very hot customers.”

Back in the yard, Pope points at Cleo’s photo.

“What about Cleo?”

“What do you think, Pope?” JJ raises a brow. 

He thinks for a beat. 

“Honestly? I’m gonna go with lower.” He says and the boys nod, trusting the call.

“Go lower.” Rafe confirms.

Pope peels back the heart. 

“Two.”

“I had just broken up with my ex…sent him two pics…and yeah, we hooked up that night.” Cleo laughs, explaining herself.

“Cleo!” Sarah yells, laughing in shock, while the girls dissolve into giggles.

The boys guess higher for Abigail and they’re right, as it is seven.

Then Pope turns to Y/N’s photo. 

“Okay. Y/N. Higher or lower, boys?”

“Higher.” Topper doesn’t hesitate. 

“Nah, I think it’s lower.” Kelce tilts his head. 

Rafe stays quiet, eyes flicking to Y/N, searching her expression.

After a quick team huddle, they go with higher.

“Ten.” Pope says, revealing the number. Y/N just shrugs, completely unfazed, as the boys nod and move on.

Finally, Pope turns back to Sarah’s photo.

“Alright. Last one, Sarah again. What are we thinking?”

“Higher.” The boys all say in chorus, not even debating. But Sarah just stares blankly at her photo, lips pressed tight.

Pope removes the sticker and the crowd gasps.

“Wait. Two-thousands?” JJ blurts.

“One of my nudes got leaked on Twitter.” Sarah confesses and the yard goes silent.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Maddy says quietly.

Y/N immediately reaches out and squeezes Sarah’s hand. Within seconds, all the girls are around her, pulling her in for a group hug.

Confessional - Sarah “I went viral for, like, two days.” She grins, eyes wide as she looks into the camera. “But my mom’s a lawyer, so…handled.” She wipes her hands together like she’s dusting them off, done and over it, before she smirks proudly.

Back in the yard, Pope claps his hands together.

“Alright, boys. Time to find out your girl’s body count.”

Gasps echo from the bleachers. The girls shift in their seats while the boys lean forward. Pope steps up to Maddy’s photo and peels back the sticker.

“Maddy's body count is…eighteen.”

“Totally respectable.” She gives a casual shrug. 

The girls snap their fingers in approval, supportive energy flowing across the yard.

“Next up, Kiara. Higher or lower than eighteen?”

“Higher.” Topper says confidently.

“No way. Lower.” Rafe argues.

The boys debate but end up siding with Topper. Pope pulls off the heart.

“Twenty. Another point for the boys.”

Cheers go up as Pope moves to Alyssa’s photo.

He barely gets a word out before the guys all shout in unison.

“Higher.”

Pope chuckles, before revealing the number.

“Thirty-one.”

“No need to explain myself.” Alyssa raises her chin.

“Fair enough.” Pope laughs, before heading to Cleo.

The guys settle on lower and they’re right. Her number is seven. Next is Abigail. The boys guess higher.

“Ten.” Pope reveals before moving on. He stops in front of Y/N’s photo.

“Okay. What do we think, boys?”

The boys gather closer and debate among themselves.

“Honestly? No clue.” Rafe frowns slightly, shaking his head. 

“Wait, you haven’t asked her?” Topper looks over. 

“Doesn’t really matter.” Rafe shrugs.

“Lower.” Kelce cuts in, firm. The rest of the guys nod.

“We’re going with lower.” John B announces and Pope peels back the sticker. 

“Five?” JJ raises an eyebrow. Rafe looks at her with wide eyes.

Confessional - Rafe He tilts his head, clearly trying to work something out. “Five just…surprised me, I guess. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that.” He laughs under his breath, shaking his head. “But like, that doesn’t change anything. At all. I still feel the same about her.”

Across the yard, Y/N stares at her hands, suddenly a little tense.

Maddy nudges her playfully. 

“Hey. That’s a perfect number.” She says.

“It’s…whatever.” Y/N gives a small eye roll, brushing it off, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red. Maddy just smiles and squeezes her hand, holding it quietly.

Confessional - Maddy “I could tell Y/N got in her head a bit, but she seriously has nothing to be insecure about.” Maddy raises an eyebrow, voice full of sass. “If someone’s still judging people over body count in this day and age? You’re just…dumb. Period.”

Back outside, the boys turn to Sarah’s photo.

“Alright, higher or lower than Y/N?” Pope asks.

“Higher.” Topper says instantly and the rest of the boys nod in agreement.

Pope peels off the sticker. 

“Sarah's body count is…twenty-five.”

A few whistles and nods echo around the yard, no one surprised.

“Okay.” Pope announces, holding up the final card. “Last question, how many sexual partners do the girls think is too many for the guy they’re dating?”

A dramatic ‘ooh’ ripples across the group.

Pope steps to Maddy’s photo first.

“Maddy thinks…one hundred is too many.”

The boys glance over at her. She shrugs.

“Honestly? I don’t care what you have done prior to our relationship.”

Everyone nods and Pope moves on. For Kiara, the boys guess lower and they’re right. Her answer was fifties.

Next up, Alyssa. The boys confidently guess higher and Pope cracks up as he removes the sticker.

“Infinity.” He reads and laughter breaks out across the yard.

“I truly couldn't care less about what you have done in your past.” Alyssa grins.

The boys nod, clearly impressed.

They go lower for Cleo and they’re right, again, as her number is thirty.

“I’m a relationship type of girl.” Cleo says seriously. “I don't want to date a player”

Respectful nods follow.

They guess lower again for Abigail, but they’re wrong. Her answer being ninety.

Next up, it's Y/N and the boys guess lower.

“Alright.” Pope says, stepping to her photo. 

“Y/N thinks…” He removes the heart sticker. “Somewhere in the hundreds is too many.”

The guys groan in defeat.

“Like, live your life. Just…I don’t want to be with someone who’s been with everyone. That’s all.” Y/N shrugs, calm and unapologetic.

The boys nod, understanding while Rafe looks away.

“Valid.” John B says.

Finally, Pope reaches the last photo. The boys guess for higher.

“Okay, Sarah. You think too many is…” He peels back the sticker. “Seventy.”

A round of nods and clapping follows as Pope walks to the bleachers, while the boys start to cheer.

Cleo walks up, grinning as new photos of the boys are lined up across the yard, heart stickers ready.

“Alright, ladies, let's bring this one home!” She grins, rallying the girls, who cheer in response. She steps forward and reads the first question aloud. “What’s the most money the boys have spent on a woman in one occasion?” 

With a dramatic pause, she peels the sticker off the first photo, which is Kelce's.

“Kelce has dropped $1,000.” She announces.

“Oh my god.” Sarah gasps, while Y/N just nods like she’s not surprised.

“Yeah…I, uh, booked an Airbnb in the Hamptons for a weekend.” Kelce says, scratching the back of his neck. Y/N smiles at the memory, while the girls react with impressed 'oohs'. Rafe glances over at her, but quickly shifts his focus as Cleo moves on to the next photo.

“Alright, what do we think about Pope?” She asks. The girls guess lower and they’re right. $300.

Then comes Topper’s turn. His picture appears and the girls debate before finally going with higher. Cleo lifts the sticker.

“$150.” She reads. Everyone blinks at him.

“Just dinner.” Topper shrugs like it’s obvious, making Cleo scrunches her nose. 

“Whatever you say, frosted tips.” She mutters before moving on.

Next up is John B and the girls guess higher.

“Please don’t let us down.” Maddy teases, making the girls laugh.

Cleo reveals the amount is $250. The girls cheer and John B just smirks like he expected it.

Then it’s JJ’s turn.

“Lower.” The girls say confidently and Cleo peels back the sticker. 

“$50.” She reads as the villa bursts out laughing, even JJ.

“Wanna explain that one?” Kiara asks, wide-eyed, her smile creeping out of her shocked face.

Y/N clutches Maddy, crying with laughter, while Sarah doubles over holding her stomach.

“I’m…not great with dates or gifts.” JJ admits, grinning. “I just grabbed some KFC and took a girl out on the boat.”

“Aww, that’s actually so cute, J.” Y/N beams. JJ shrugs but smiles as Cleo clears her throat and moves on.

“Okay, Ryan’s up. More or less than fifty?”

The girls all agree on higher and they’re right. $500.

Finally, Rafe’s picture comes up. The girls gather, whispering like they’re about to launch a conspiracy theory.

“More than five hundred is insane.” Y/N says, shaking her head.

“I don’t think it is for him.” Maddy counters. “Have you seen his closet? He’s always in designer everything.”

After a moment of back and forth, the girls lock in their answer, going with higher.

“$3,000.” Cleo pulls off the sticker, shocked. Y/N’s jaw drops. The girls erupt into cheers.

“Wait, what did you even buy?” Cleo asks, stunned.

“A Louis Vuitton bag.” Rafe replies, totally unfazed.

“For her birthday or like…a random Tuesday?” Cleo fires back, making everyone laugh, including Rafe.

“Nah, it wasn’t for anything special.” He shakes his head.

“Lucky you.” Maddy murmurs, leaning over and nudging Y/N.

“Shut up.” Y/N whispers, cheeks flushing.

Confessional - Y/N “Okay, yeah…I was a bit shocked by Rafe’s answer.” She says, raising her brows. “Like, I know he has money, the man’s always in designer stuff and he literally owns a whole company, but just casually dropping three grand like that?” She blinks dramatically. “Wild.”

“Next question is how many nudes have the boys sent?” Cleo announces as the girls get excited.

JJ immediately turns to John B, shaking his head. 

“This is gonna be bad.” He says.

“Really bad.” John B agrees, both of them already bracing for embarrassment.

“Forty-five.” Cleo says, peeling the sticker off Kelce’s board. The girls gasp in unison.

“Yeah, uh…no explanation there.” Kelce says, hands raised in surrender as Cleo blinks in disbelief and moves on.

“Okay, Pope.” She doesn’t wait for the girls to weigh in. “We’re going lower.” 

The girls nod and Cleo pulls off the sticker revealing the number ten.

Next is Topper.

“Higher.” The girls say, and they’re right again, as his stands at sixty-three.

Then comes John B.

“Higher.” They guess, but Cleo reveals it is fifty.

“Agh, so close.” Maddy groans.

JJ’s up next. The girls guess higher and the number on the board sends the villa into chaos.

“One-ninety.” Cleo reads aloud, stunned.

“What?” Sarah gasps, as everyone bursts into laughter.

Confessional - JJ “Don’t slut-shame me on Twitter, please.” JJ grins.

“Okay, what do we think about Ryan?” Cleo reads. The girls guess lower this time and they’re right again. “Thirty-six.”

“Okay.” Cleo says, grinning as she reaches the final picture. “What about Rafe?”

The girls hesitate, some voting lower, others whispering amongst themselves. Finally, they agree on higher.

Cleo peels the sticker off slowly.

“Twelve.”

Y/N blinks in surprise and turns to look at Rafe, who’s relaxed on the bleachers like it’s no big deal.

“Twelve?” Cleo repeats, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah.” Rafe says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t been in many relationships, but I’ve used dating apps…so, you know.”

Everyone nods, seemingly impressed by the honesty.

“Alright ladies, now for my favorite part, body count time!” Cleo claps her hands together. 

The girls cheer as she pulls the sticker off Kelce’s picture.

“Kelce's body count is...thirty-five.” She reads.

Next is Pope and the girls go with lower. They get it right, at ten.

On Topper’s turn, they all agree on higher.

“Seventy.” Cleo reveals as eyes widen around the yard, while Topper grins smugly like he’s just won a trophy.

John B’s photo is next and the girls guess lower.

“Fifty-seven.” Cleo reads.

Now it’s JJ again and the girls guess higher, after all his previous answers. Cleo pauses, peels the sticker slowly, then stares.

“In the hundreds?” She blinks. The girls scream in disbelief as the boys erupt in laughter. Topper reaches over to dap him up.

“I had fun in high school and college.” JJ shrugs. “Well, the three weeks I went.”

The girls are still giggling as Cleo moves on.

“Ryan?” She asks the girls, still trying to recover.

They all decide on lower and they’re right once again as his answer is twenty-five.

And finally, Rafe.

“Alright. What about Rafe?” Cleo turns to the girls, but all eyes turn to Y/N.

“I-I have no idea.” She says honestly. “We haven’t really talked about that.”

“What do you think though?” Sarah nudges, gently. Y/N glances toward the bleachers, then back to the group. 

“It’s gonna be higher.” She says quietly. “I just…I just know.”

The girls nod and look to Cleo.

“We’ll say higher.” Sarah confirms for the group.

Cleo removes the final sticker.

“Forty-two.” She reads.

The girls react with surprised nods as the boys cheer and clap Rafe on the back. Y/N’s lips part slightly. She doesn’t react outwardly, but a weight settles in her chest.

Confessional - Y/N “Like…I knew he had experience. I mean, obviously, have you seen the guy?” She says, eyes wide. Then her tone shifts, more thoughtful. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t…scare me a little?” She admits, her voice softening with a flicker of vulnerability.

Rafe chuckles from the bleachers. 

“I’m 27. I went to business school. I ride a motorcycle.” He says with a shrug, earning a round of laughs from the boys. The girls smile as Cleo claps her hands together.

“Alright ladies, last question!” She grins as the girls cheer. “How many sexual partners do the boys think is too many for the girl they’re dating?”

She heads to Kelce’s photo and peels off the sticker.

“Kelce thinks fifty is too many.”

All eyes turn to the bleachers.

“Okay, but let me just say.” Kelce jumps in, holding up a hand. “I’m not the guy who asks that kind of question or cares about it. What someone’s done in their past? Not my business.”

The girls clap, impressed by the answer and the boys nod along in agreement.

“Aww, okay, that was sweet. Moving on.” Cleo says with a grin. She stops at Pope’s photo. “What do we think, ladies?”

They guess higher, only to get it wrong.

“Pope said 30.” Cleo reads, surprised.

“I totally agree with Kelce.” Pope says quickly. “I just grew up super religious and you know, I haven’t had as much experience as most people here.”

The girls nod respectfully.

“Well, good thing mine’s lower.” Cleo adds with a mischievous grin before bursting out laughing. The rest of the villa joins in.

Next up is Topper. The girls guess higher and miss again.

“Ten?” Cleo reads, blinking.

Topper cringes at his own answer as JJ elbows him. The girls exchange looks, confused and not happy.

Confessional - Alyssa “That was some double standard bullshit.” She says bluntly. “Like, what do you mean ten is too many for your girl when you’ve slept with seventy people? Make it make sense.”

“Wanna explain yourself?” Cleo narrows her eyes at Topper.

“I, uh, I don’t really care about that stuff.” Topper says, stumbling.

“Mm. Sure.” Cleo mutters, unconvinced, before turning to the next board.

John B’s up. The girls guess lower and they’re right. His answer was one hundred. Then it’s JJ and they guess higher.

“Twenty.” Cleo reveals.

“That’s such a fake answer.” Kiara squints.

“Okay, yeah, I was kidding. Honestly, that stuff doesn’t matter to me. It’s your business, not mine.” JJ raises his hands in surrender.

He shrugs, but no one looks convinced. Kiara just rolls her eyes.

Next is Ryan. The girls confidently vote higher. Abigail crosses her fingers, hopeful.

“Infinity!” Cleo reads and bursts out laughing. The girls cheer and clap while Ryan laughs along.

“Yeah.” He says. “Doesn't really matter to me. Your past is your past.”

And last but not least, Rafe.

“Alright, what do we think?” Cleo asks.

“We’re going lower.” Abigail declares. “Obviously.”

“Excuse me?” Rafe gasps dramatically.

“You can’t go higher than infinity.” Abigail smirks.

“Infinity and beyond?” Rafe fires back, sass in full swing. The girls laugh as Cleo removes the sticker.

“Two hundred.”

The girls clap, amused and a little impressed.

With that, the game wraps. The boys are declared the winners and erupt into cheers, hollers echoing across the villa. The girls shake their heads, rolling their eyes, already plotting to win the next challenge.

The islanders start drifting off into smaller groups around the yard, voices buzzing and laughter echoing in the background. Rafe and Y/N grab their water bottles and head to the daybed, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow over them.

She settles in beside him, legs crossed as he stretches out, one arm behind his head.

“You mentioned something about riding a motorcycle?” She asks, raising her brows, a playful grin tugging at her lips. He chuckles, his hand naturally coming to rest on her thigh. 

“Yeah. Been riding since I was seventeen.” He replies.

“That’s…ridiculously hot.” She mutters, locking eyes with him.

“Yeah?” He smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t. I already regret saying it.” She groans, looking away.

“No, no, say it again, baby.” He teases, voice low and gravelly. His hand gently finds her chin, turning her face back toward his.

Her breath catches as she meets his blue eyes. His thumb traces her cheek, slow and tender. The tension crackles between them like static.

“I…uh…” She pulls back, clearing her throat. “Can we talk about…the challenge?”

He immediately drops his hand, sitting up and nodding, the playfulness fading into something more sincere.

“Of course.” He says, taking a sip from his bottle, while she fidgets with the cap on hers. 

“I just…you heard it already, but I’m not…super experienced. And I think that’s why I haven’t been able to go further with you, yet. I’ve always taken things slow and being in here…just...everything moves fast. Like, really fast. And knowing you’ve had more experience…it kinda freaked me out.” Her voice is quiet, vulnerable, as she finally meets his eyes. Rafe shakes his head gently. 

“There’s nothing to be scared of.” He leans in, his tone soft. “I would never rush you. Ever. Whatever we do, it’s gonna be when you’re ready. I care way more about you being comfortable than about moving things forward.”

He reaches for her hand. 

“And yeah, I’ve had more experience, but that doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t change how I feel about you. We can go at your pace. Only your pace.”

“So…you’re okay with taking it slow?” She blinks slowly, emotion flickering behind her eyes.

“I’m more than okay with it. I want you to feel safe. That’s what matters to me.” He cups her face again, his voice steady and sure.

“Did…did my body count bother you?” Her voice trembles.

“No. Not at all.” His response is immediate.

“But…it’s low.” She admits, a whisper.

“So what?” He scoffs softly. “Y/N, I don’t care if it’s one or zero or a hundred. I like you. That’s what I care about.”

“You mean that?” Her eyes widen slightly.

“Of course I mean it.” He says firmly. “You never have to stress about that kind of stuff with me.”

She exhales deeply, the relief visible on her face. Her smile grows and she leans in, pressing her lips to his in a soft, thankful kiss.

“Thank you.” She whispers as she pulls back slightly.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He murmurs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re safe with me.”

They hold each other’s gaze, quiet understanding passing between them.

Then, suddenly, Y/N lets out a happy squeal and wraps her arms around him tightly, knocking them both back onto the pillows. They burst into laughter, limbs tangled, hearts light, warmth radiating between them.

“Oh, by the way.” Rafe says, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “You still owe me that kiss from earlier.”

She smirks, fingers reaching up to toy with the chain around his neck.

“I was hoping you’d forgotten.” She murmurs.

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Not a chance.”

He leans in again and this time, she meets him halfway, closing the distance between them before curling up by his side.

And just as the villa settles into that rare calm, a loud ping cuts through the air.

“What now?” Rafe groans, head flopping back.

Y/N grabs her phone and grins.

“I got a text!” She shouts. The villa immediately perks up as everyone turns toward her.

“Islanders, it’s time to get dressed up because tonight you’re having a blue party! #party4u #glamup.” She reads aloud.

The villa erupts into cheers, already buzzing with excitement.

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[sinofwriting]

Aren't Girls The Worse - Max Verstappen

Words: 839 Summary: Max and her welcome their second daughter and Jos can’t help but talk to the media about it. Note(s): Not important or mentioned but does take place in 2023.

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Don’t turn on your phone.” The shortness of his words make her eyebrows raise, not even aware it was off, but the clenching of his jaw and his hands balled into fist have her stopping the snapping words she wants to let out.

“Okay.” Her quiet response has Max’s jaw unclenching and he’s by her side in a blink, brushing a kiss to her lips, and brushing a kiss over the forehead of their eight-day-old daughter, Sienna. “Is everything okay?”

He easily reads the hidden question, his eyes just like hers drifting over to where their almost two-year-old daughter is snacking and coloring. He gives a small shake of his head, voice lowering. “Jos, he made a comment to the media.”

He watches her face carefully and normally where anger would well up there’s only sadness and he rubs at her back. “I know, I’m going to handle it.”

“I don’t want him here.” Her voice is quiet, barely a whisper, and his hand stills. “I don’t care that he's only been here once in three years, I don’t want him here, I don't want him around the girls, me, or you.” She takes her eyes off their toddler, looking her husband in the eyes. “Call Christian and tell him Jos is exempt from Red Bull or I will.”

He swallows thickly, eyes stinging because she doesn’t even know what he’s said, doesn’t need to know, and she’s pulling out all the stops. “Done.” His voice is a little hoarse. “I need to attend a meeting, Gemma is upset, but it has to be done.”

She nods, “Of course.”

“If you need to get up, you yell for me or send Alina to get me.”

She gives him an unamused look. “I can get up by myself.”

“You're shuffling to walk and in pain still.” Max counters and he’s bending again to press a kiss to her lips and walking away to quickly talk to Alina, accepting a hug and slobbery kiss to the cheek from her before disappearing down the hallway.

He’s gone for thirty minutes and when he comes back, he’s more relaxed, a bit of tension in his shoulders that she knows he’ll work out with Brad tomorrow.

“Banned from all races.” He murmurs when he takes Sienna from her before helping her up. “Red Bull, well me, was the only thing that was saving him.”

She gives a small nod and they both drop the subject until after both the kids are asleep.

She doesn’t even have to ask what Jos said, Max silently passes her his phone, the video, a fucking video already loaded for her to press play. Her fingers don’t hesitate and instantly Jos’ voice fills her ears.

“Two under two and not one a boy. It’s a disappointment and it’s all her fault. She doesn’t want to give Max sons, see his legacy live on. Max will wake up any day and find a much better girl who can give him the son he needs.”

The words make her jaw twitch, fingers curling a bit more around the phone.

“Has he tried calling?”

Max gives a small shrug of his shoulders. “Not since I yelled at him after seeing the video for the first time. He didn’t get a word in.”

“Good.” She looks away from Max’s phone, setting it on the bed and cupping her husband’s face in her hands. “How are you doing?”

He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m exhausted, angry, but happy. We all knew something would eventually happen, I think I’m just grateful it was during break.”

Her thumbs run gently under his eyes. “You meeting with Brad tomorrow?”

His eyes flutter open. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

She shakes her head. “I’ll message Pascale and Charles. She was planning on stopping by tomorrow anyway to drop off more food and help out. Let us get a nap in.”

Max gives a small nod. “Okay, want me to text her?”

“Please? And let her know I’ve got my phone off. I don’t want to deal with it yet.”

“Of course.”

His eyes close again, the exhaustion from a newborn and the disaster that had struck is clear on his face and she presses their lips together in a soft, gentle kiss.

“Let’s get some sleep, yeah? Before Sienna wakes up to get feed.”

“It’s so early.” He complains, but he’s already kicking off his slippers, hands gently running over her waist, a featherlight touch, before he’s stepping away to push off his sweatpants.

He continues with featherlight touches as he helps her get dressed and then into bed. Their fingers tangle together once Max settles himself under the covers, his phone lighting up the room as he quickly types, before he sets it on the nightstand.

“Don’t even think about getting up to feed her.” He murmurs, sleep already filling his voice as he squeezes her hand.

“I won’t.” She promises, squeezing his hand back, eyes already closed and ready for sleep.

[screaminglygay]

Professional distance (my ass)

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: you start driving your younger sister to therapy, you don't expect the real challenge to be resisting her therapist.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: mild language, themes of mental health and therapy, bad flirting, mentions of self-worth and responsibility, a healthy dose of yearning:D

an: to everyone who’s sent requests - I see every single one and I’m so grateful for your ideas and support. I’ll be writing them throughout the summer, so stay tuned and thank you for reading!

☀️ Summer with A masterlist ☀️

The waiting room is quiet except for the soft hum of the AC and the sound of your sister nervously picking at the edge of her sleeve. You nudge her knee gently with your own.

"Hey," you murmur, offering her a small smile.

"If this therapist doesn’t vibe right, it’s okay. We’ll try someone else. No pressure, okay?"

She exhales shakily and nods, though her hands are still fidgeting.

You continue, light but sincere, "Worst case scenario, she’s a weirdo who makes you draw your feelings with crayons. Best case… she’s actually helpful and everything will get a little bit better."

That earns a little laugh, which feels like a victory. You loop an arm around her and pull her in for a quick side hug. She leans into it, her forehead pressing against your shoulder.

"You’ve got this, Ellie," you whisper, pressing a kiss to her head. "I’ll be right here when you’re done."

The door opens behind you before she can answer, and a soft voice says, "Elena? Hi, I’m Dr. Wanda Maximoff."

You turn, and- oh.

Okay, wow.

She’s beautiful. Sharp cheekbones, soft eyes, a calm, composed presence that makes you shift a little straighter. Her hair is perfectly styled, her voice warm and level, and she’s wearing a blouse that does deeply unfair things to your focus.

You stand with your hand out, easy smile already in place. "Hi. I’m her sister. Thank you for seeing her."

Wanda takes your hand in a gentle shake. Her skin is warm. "Of course. It’s nice to meet you."

You watch the two of them disappear down the hallway, and you can’t help but think, yeah… we’re in trouble.

Forty-five minutes later, Ellie walks back out with pink in her cheeks and a calmer step than before. You put your phone away and stand, watching her approach.

"So?" you ask, walking with her toward the exit.

She shrugs, but she’s trying not to smile. "She’s nice. Like… really nice. And she doesn’t talk down to me. I actually talked more than I thought I would."

You bump your shoulder into hers, "that’s what I like to hear."

"She said I did well. That I should be proud." Ellie glances at you. "And she asked about you."

You blink, "me?"

"She said you seemed very… supportive," she teases with a smirk.

You grin, "did she now?"

Ellie groans, "oh my god, don’t flirt with my therapist."

You throw your hands up, mock-offended, "I didn’t! I just said hi!"

"Uh-huh." Your sister knows you too well.

You nudge her again, laughing, "I´m just being nice."

Ellie rolls her eyes but leans into you anyway as you walk down the steps to the car. You unlock the doors and both slip in, and for a moment, there’s a quiet stillness. She’s staring out the window, a thoughtful look on her face, and you glance at her before speaking again.

"I know I say this a lot," you start, voice softer now, "but I really am proud of you."

She doesn’t look at you, but her shoulders rise like she’s holding in emotion.

"And I know when I say it all the time it might sound less… important," you continue, "but it’s not. I mean it every time."

Ellie turns to look at you now, eyes a little glassy.

"I’m really happy your session went well," you say, smiling at her gently. "But I understand you want someone else to talk to so… You deserve to feel safe, and seen."

Ellie blinks rapidly, "you’re being weirdly perfect right now. It’s gross."

You snort, reaching over to ruffle her hair, not really caring she´s almost an adult now, "yeah, yeah. Let’s go home."

The next week you pull up to the same office building, Ellie next to you sipping from a smoothie you grabbed on the way.

"You sure you’re good?" you ask.

She hums around the straw, "yeah. Just gotta pee first."

"Again?," you tease.

She hops out of the car and hurries into the building ahead of you while you trail behind, phone in one hand, sunglasses perched on your head. You’ve barely had time to sit down in the waiting room when you hear a familiar voice.

"Is Elena here?"

You look up. God. She’s in another dangerously well-fitted blouse today. Burgundy, soft silk, her hair tucked behind one ear. Her tone is professional, her posture easy, but the moment your eyes meet, something crackles.

"She is," you answer smoothly, standing. "Just in the bathroom."

Wanda nods politely, "I see."

You shift, hands in your pockets. “Thank you for being so… patient with her. This is like… our fourth try. Every other therapist made her feel weird or shut down. It’s been hard."

Wanda’s expression softens. "That’s not uncommon. It takes time to find the right match."

"Yeah, well," you say with a small grin, "I’m just glad you’re making her feel safe. It means a lot. To both of us."

There’s a pause. A quiet kind of understanding settles between you.

"You two are very close," Wanda says gently.

"She’s my little sister. It’s been just the two of us for a while now. I think she gets tired of me hovering," you say with a smirk, "but that’s the job."

Wanda smiles, and something flickers in her eyes, warmth, maybe. Curiosity.

You tilt your head slightly, grin sharpening. "I should probably thank you with something more formal. Do therapists accept bribes in the form of coffee?"

Her brow lifts, but her smile grows, "not usually, no."

"Shame," you say, just as Ellie steps out from the hallway.

"I’m ready," she says, tossing you a look like she knows what you’re doing. "Okay, thanks, sis," she says, then adds with extra emphasis, "I’ll see you later."

You smile more innocently this time and just nod, "see you later. Dr. Maximoff." You give her last smile for now. Your sister snorts and disappears into the hallway with Wanda, who glances back once at you, just for a second longer than necessary.

And you smile to yourself. You’re definitely in trouble.

You and Ellie have made a little ritual of it now, smoothies on the drive, music just loud enough to sing over your nerves, and a whole playlist Ellie insists on cueing up just right so she doesn’t walk into her session with sad girl energy. Even though it wouldn´t be a bad thing.

You drop her off at the front again, waving as she disappears into the building. Usually you hang around in the parking lot, scrolling on your phone or grabbing a coffee from the coffee shop nearby. And it was ritual that neither of you mind. And you weren´t really upset since you got to see such a pretty lady like Dr. Wanda Maximoff herself.

Another week later you’re halfway across the street, sunglasses on, when you spot her.

Wanda.

She's in line at the coffee shop, where you often came to, dressed down this time, dark jeans, flats, and a tucked-in navy blouse. She’s holding her phone in one hand, eyes skimming the menu above the counter.

You walk up to her, "didn’t think I’d run into you outside your natural habitat," you say-

Wanda glances up, mildly startled, then her lips curve. "It’s just coffee. Even therapists are allowed that."

"Really? I had this theory you only drink existential potion with a bit of widsom."

She huffs a quiet laugh, and it’s adorable, even if she tries to smother it,"funny."

You offer an exaggerated shrug, "I have to use my charm somewhere. Otherwise it just leaks out."

Wanda doesn’t respond immediately, just tilts her head at you, lips pressing together like she’s trying very hard not to smile.

"You’re still being professional. Even away from your office? That’s commitment."

"I try," she says dryly.

"Impressive," you murmur. "I’d be more impressed if you told me your coffee order, though. For future bribery purposes."

She narrows her eyes at you, "I thought I told you, bribery doesn’t work on me."

"Oh, I know," you say, taking a step closer, eyes flicking from her hand to her amused expression. "You’re far too composed for that. But I also know you’re currently analyzing me, aren’t you?"

Wanda takes a slow sip of her drink, keeping her expression unreadable. "You’re charming, confident, and used to getting your way with a well-timed smile. You flirt to test boundaries, not to disrespect them. It’s calculated, but not cruel."

You blink, "whoa…"

She shrugs lightly, "occupational hazard."

You recover quickly, tilting your head with a slow smile. "Well, I hope you can also tell I don’t just… let things go that easily."

Something flickers behind her eyes at that, interest, maybe. She hides it fast, covering it with a sip of her coffee. Still, the tiniest smirk curls the corner of her mouth.

"I’m sure you don’t," she says smoothly. Then, almost teasing, "have a nice day, (Y/N)."

That smirk widens just a little when she sees the reaction her saying your name does to you.

You grin, "you too, Dr. Maximoff."

She nods and starts to turn, and you casually call out, "almond milk latte with one pump of vanilla, right?"

Wanda glances back over her shoulder and rolls her eyes.

"What can I say? Occupational hazard."

That earns you a soft, amused laugh she doesn’t quite manage to suppress. She shakes her head as she walks away. You’re not crossing the line. But you’re dancing on it and she’s dancing right back.

Once again Ellie sits beside you on the curb outside the coffee shop, fidgeting with her phone while you wait for her session time to come up.

"You okay?" you ask, nudging her with your elbow.

She sighs, resting her chin on her hand, "yeah. Just… more nervous today, I guess."

You glance over at her, chewing her lip, shoulders tense and place a reassuring hand on her back. "Hey, no pressure, okay? If you just sit the whole time, that´s okay too."

She doesn’t say anything, but she leans into your side a little.

Ellie hums, "I feel like not going, but I know I should."

"You know you´ll feel better, you always do." You softly say.

Ellie hums once again, "I wouldn´t go if you wouldn´t be here."

"Oh I know."

"I´m glad you do tho. At least I don´t have to walk home."

"So now I´m just taxi to you?" That makes her laugh, then you glance at the clock. "Come on, sweetheart. Go do your brave thing."

Later, after the session Ellie gets in the car with a light step and a kind of glowy calm around her.

"Go well?" you ask.

She nods, buckling her seatbelt, "Wanda was really understanding and helpful with her methaphors"

"I´m glad."

Ellie watches you for a second, her eyes narrow.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," she says. "Just… do you always smile like that when I say her name?"

You raise an eyebrow, "like what?"

"Like you’ve got a crush in a high school and you just spotted her across the cafeteria."

You laugh, "Ellie-"

"I’m just saying. You’re subtle, but I´m not blind."

Next session, mid-conversation in Wanda’s office Ellie hesitates, pulling her sleeves over her hands, "can I ask you something?"

Wanda’s tone is calm, encouraging, "of course."

"Let’s say… hypothetically… there’s this woman."

Wanda tilts her head, smiling slightly, "alright."

"She likes someone. A lot. But she’s scared they don’t really see her because… well, she acts all tough. Like a jock. Real confident, sarcastic. But inside she’s, like, soft. An actual marshmallow."

Wanda’s brows lift with interest. "So, she thinks the person she likes might not notice the vulnerable side of her?"

"Exactly," Ellie says. "And she flirts. Like, all the time. But she’s scared to be real because what if the other person just thinks she’s joking?"

Wanda’s expression softens, "well… I’d tell her to be honest… carefully. To show the vulnerable side when she feels safe. To let the person she likes see her. Because no matter how charming someone is, people can tell when it’s real."

Ellie nods, thoughtful. Then Wanda pauses. Her eyes narrow slightly, but there's amusement there too.

"This is about your sister, isn’t it?"

Ellie bites her lip and shrugs. "… hypothetically?"

Wanda exhales a slow breath, hiding a small smile behind her hand, "I see. You two are truly sisters."

Ellie tilts her head, "what’s that supposed to mean?"

Wanda chuckled lightly and gestured for them to continue, "let’s get back to you, shall we?"

Ellie later slides into the passenger seat, tugging the seatbelt over her chest and giving you a look that's way too smug for someone who just left therapy.

"What´s up with that smile?" you ask, starting the engine.

She shrugs, "nothing." She leans her elbow against the door, looking out the window with a faux-innocent tone. "I was just trying to figure out how someone like you might… I don´t know show her true self, since I´m understanding myself better, I figured you should do the same. So I simply just ask the one and only."

Your jaw drops, "you didn’t."

She grins, "I might’ve."

"Oh my God, Ellie."

"Relax! I didn’t say it was you. I was just describing a certain type of woman who might wear tank tops too tight on purpose and smirk a lot."

You glance at her with mock scandal, "you're trying to psychoanalyze me with your therapist’s help?"

"I would never," she says, putting a hand over her heart. "I’m just looking out for your emotional well-being."

You snort, "oh right."

Some days later you tap your fingers against your thigh while the line moves slowly forward. Something about the quiet hum of the place, the soft clink of ceramic cups, and the smell of espresso is making you more fidgety than usual. You glance over your shoulder. Then again. When you finally turn around, you spot her again, Dr. Wanda Maximoff, halfway through the line, her hair shining in the light, eyes glued to her phone.

Your breath catches for half a second. You try not to grin. You step to the barista. "I’ll pay for the lady in the black top," you say casually.

The barista glances over, "you know them?"

"Uh-huh." You pay. No big deal. Just a small, innocent coffee. That’s all.

Wanda doesn’t look up until she’s called forward to order and the barista says, "You’re all set. Your drink’s been paid for."

She blinks, "oh?"

The barista points, "by them."

Wanda follows the gesture. Your eyes meet. You raise your cup in silent greeting, smirking just enough to get under her skin. She stares at you for a long moment, her lips parting like she’s about to say something. Then, to your surprise, she walks over.

"I’m starting to think you’re more trouble than you look," she says lightly.

You lean back against the chair, eyes warm. "And yet, you came over."

Wanda exhales, a soft puff of a laugh, "maybe I was curious."

You raise your brows, sipping your coffee. "Careful, Doctor. Curiosity can be dangerous."

Her lips twitch, "so can charm."

You grin, "I wouldn’t know. I’m just a supportive sister making small talk with my sister’s therapist over overpriced caffeine."

Wanda leans slightly forward, her eyes scanning you like she’s doing more than just looking. "Do you always deflect with humor?"

That stops you for half a second. The coffee cup stills in your hand.

"That’s a real question," you say, laughing, half-caught off guard.

She smirks and tilts her head, waiting for your asnwer, that she already knows.

You tilt your head, thoughtful for a beat. "Maybe. But sometimes I just think life moments are too heavy not to laugh through it."

She hums, "that’s… fair."

You sip your drink again, a little slower now, like the air between you shifted. Not tense. Just more… present.

Wanda glances at your cup, then back up. "So, what is this little moment to you?"

You don’t even hesitate, "definetly a date." You smirk at her.

She blinks, "this is what you call a date?"

You shrug, playful. "Two attractive women, coffee, soft lighting, emotionally probing questions? Sounds like a date to me."

Wanda leans back with a smile that’s far too amused for her usual clinical composure. "Interesting definition."

"Oh, come on. What would you call it?"

"An ambush."

You laugh, "you’re not running."

She raises an eyebrow, "not yet."

You grin wider, satisfied, "so, you’re saying there’s a chance."

She shakes her head, but the fondness in her eyes lingers, "you’re relentless."

"And you’re still hereee," you chuckle, stretching the word with a teasing grin.

Wanda sips her drink again, not looking at you this time, "maybe I’m just being polite."

"Mm," you tilt your head, eyes still fixed on her. "I don’t know, you don’t seem like the type to do anything just out of politeness. Especially not sit through my very charming advances."

She raises an eyebrow, finally looking at you again, "is that what this is? Charming advances?"

You gasp, mock offended, "you wound me, doctor. I’m doing my best."

"I can tell," she says, her tone still calm, measured, but the corner of her mouth betrays her, tugging up just slightly.

You lean in a bit, elbows on the table, voice dropping into something softer, "I know I joke a lot, but I’m not… messing around."

That earns you a pause. Her eyes flicker, searching. You can see it, how part of her wants to keep the wall up, to gently but firmly redirect the moment. But another part of her… is just enjoying this.

"I’m not supposed to enjoy any of this," she murmurs.

"But you are," you whisper back.

Before she can respond, your phone buzzes. You glance down and see Ellie’s name light up the screen. Your smile falters, just for a second. Wanda notices.

"Go be a good older sister," she says gently, nodding toward your phone.

The way she says it, soft, but knowing, catches you more off guard than the text itself. You look back up at her, blinking.

"Right," you clear your throat, "yeah. Duty calls."

You grab your coffee and stand, still a little stunned by the shift. Wanda’s gaze lingers on you, unreadable now.

As you turn to leave, you glance over your shoulder and shoot her a softer smile. "Thanks for the not-a-date."

She doesn’t respond right away, just watches you. Then, finally, "drive safe." You nod, then head out the door.

Weeks passed like clockwork. Drop-offs. Pick-ups. Quick coffees. Soft smiles. Glances that lingered a little too long. Your routine with Wanda had become a rhythm a familiar song that played each time you brought Ellie to her session. The flirtation had grown playful, easy. And maybe a little dangerous.

Today felt the same, until Wanda opened her office door and as Ellie went out Wanda waves her hand at you.

"(Y/N), could I ask you to stay for a moment?"

You blink, surprised, nodding as you went it, when the door close you speak up, "so we gonna finaly talk about a date, hm?"

Wanda’s lips curve up slightly, but she leans against the table with that same unreadable calm. "I’m here to talk to you. About Ellie. She said it might help her… to have me speak with you."

Your smile falters, warmth settling into something more serious, "oh, of course."

She pulls a chair beside yours, angled just slightly. "She asked me to talk to you because she wasn’t sure how," Wanda starts, gentle but direct. "She’s been carrying something. And she’s afraid you’ll dismiss it or reassure her… instead of really hearing it." Wanda sits down, on her chair.

You straighten a little, heart tightening, "what is it?"

"She’s worried about you," Wanda says. "Not in a way that suggests you’re doing something wrong. But… she feels like she’s taking up too much space in your life."

You blink, frowning, "that’s ridiculous. I want to be here. She’s-"

"I know," Wanda interrupts softly, hand resting on her knee. "But that’s part of the problem. She knows how much you love her. She knows you'd move mountains for her. And she’s grateful, she really is. But… she feels like you're putting your entire life on hold. Like her healing is coming at the cost of your freedom."

You swallow, throat suddenly dry, "I don’t see it that way."

"I believe you," Wanda says. "But she does. And it’s heavy for her to carry, the idea that she might be holding you back. That because it’s just the two of you, you’ve felt like you have no choice but to be the strong one all the time."

You glance down at your hands, flexing them once in your lap, "she’s all I’ve got."

Wanda’s voice softens even more, "that’s exactly why she’s scared of being the reason you lose yourself."

You nod slowly, "I never wanted her to feel like that."

"I know. That’s why I agreed to talk to you. So you could hear it without her breaking down trying to say it herself."

You let out a quiet breath.

"She’s trying. And so are you. But she needs to feel like you’re living your life too, not just existing to keep hers stitched together."

You nod, pressing your fingers to your brow, "I should talk to her." You glance at her. "You’re good at your job."

She smiles, wry and warm, "I try."

You nod, pushing yourself up. But just before you open the door, you glance over your shoulder. "…Thanks, Doc."

Wanda raises an eyebrow, playfully, "you can still call me Wanda."

You give her a tired, affectionate smile, "okay. Thanks, Wanda."

Then you step back out, into the hallway, where Ellie waits, pretending not to look anxious, even though her fingers are twisting the strap of her bag. The drive is quiet for a while. You don’t turn on the radio. Just the soft hum of the engine and the muted sound of traffic outside. Ellie’s curled into the passenger seat, legs pulled up slightly, her head against the window. You glance at her every few seconds, hands firm on the steering wheel.

Eventually, she speaks. "I didn’t mean it like… I don’t want you around."

You exhale gently, "I know. Wanda told me."

She looks at you, visibly nervous.

"She said you asked her to talk to me. Said you were worried I’d just brush it off if it came from you."

Ellie shrugs a little, "you always joke when stuff gets heavy with yourself. Or change the subject. Or pretend you're fine." You nod, "I guess I do."

There’s a quiet beat before you pull into a quieter street and park under a big leafy tree. You turn the engine off and sit in the quiet stillness.

"I never saw it like that, El," you say softly. "That I was giving up anything for you. I just wanted to be the one thing you didn’t have to worry about. The one constant."

"I know," she whispers. "But sometimes it feels like you're holding everything together and forgetting you're allowed to want things for yourself too. We came from the same fucked up parents, so we both need therapy."

That makes you laugh, fair point. "I guess that is true, yeah." Then you look over at her. "And I do want things."

She turns her head once again, one eyebrow raised, "like what?"

You shrug, half a smile, "... buy a motorcycle, a dog, a wildly inappropriate amount of chocolate."

Ellie snorts, "okay, serious things."

You hesitate, then say, quieter, "a life that’s more than surviving. Something real. Someone real."

She watches you for a moment, then leans her head against the seat, "that’s why I think you should go for it," she says.

You blink, "go for what?"

Ellie doesn’t look at you as she smirks, "ask her out."

"… ask who out?"

She turns slowly, eyes narrowed in the most sarcastic way she can muster. "Hmm, I don’t know. Just someone you’ve been making eyes at for weeks. Subtle as a truck."

You scoff, grinning, "okay, rude."

She smacks your hand lightly. "Come on, you’re not even trying to hide it! You go all heart-eyes when she says your name."

"I do not!"

"You literally look like a school girl!"

"I´m just being polite!"

Ellie rolls her eyes dramatically, "just ask her out, dummy. She likes you too. I can feel it."

You lean back with a groan, dragging your hands down your face. "Great. Now I have my little sister coaching me through my love life."

Ellie crosses her arms, smug, "well, someone has to make sure you don’t die alone with your motorcycle and dog."

You chuckle, the weight in your chest lifting just a little. "Fine," you say, nudging her arm. "But only because you’re such a convincing therapist."

"Damn right," she grins. "Now buy me a smoothie and we never speak of this again."

"Deal."

You both laugh, the kind that sounds like something settling back into place.

Another week passes. The routine has become something comforting - morning traffic, Ellie’s music in the car, Wanda’s smile at the door. You don’t say it aloud, but things feel…lighter. Like whatever storm the two of you had been walking through is finally easing into something warm.

Ellie’s session is about to end when you glance at the clock and stand from your spot in the waiting room. Your heart’s thudding a little louder than you’d admit. When the door opens, Ellie walks out with her usual post-session softness, tired but calm. You meet her with a smile.

"Mind waiting in the car for a sec?"

Ellie raises a brow, but then realizes, "oh- of course!" She winks at you and head out.

Wanda appears in the doorway, immediately sensing the shift. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no," you assure, gently. "Nothing’s wrong. Ellie’s doing amazing. You’re amazing, honestly. I just… I wanted to talk to you for a second."

Wanda steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. Inside the office, it’s quiet, comfortable. Wanda stands near her chair, arms crossed gently, gaze curious but cautious.

You breathe in, "I know this isn’t how things usually go. And I don’t want to make anything weird for Ellie or mess with boundaries. I just… wanted to ask you something."

Wanda tilts her head slightly, "go on."

You smile, trying not to fidget, fuck this is harder than you thought it would be, you exhale softly, "would you like to go on a date with me?"

There’s a beat of stunned silence.

Wanda blinks, "oh."

"I mean- no pressure," you add quickly, hands lifted in surrender. "Just… you are really phenomenal."

She arches a brow, amused despite herself, "phenomenal?"

"In every way," you say, voice softer now. "And if it doesn’t work out after one date, that’s okay. But… I know it will."

Wanda exhales a short laugh, shaking her head as if trying to hide the smile creeping up, "you’re confident, aren’t you?"

You grin, "like I said… I’m not backing down."

Another quiet moment. Her expression shifts, not flirty this time, but thoughtful. Then she nods small, but real. "Alright," she says, "one date."

You´re suprised, "really?"

"Really," she replies. "Though I’m starting to think Ellie’s not the only one I’ll end up analyzing."

You chuckle and back toward the door, "we’re a package deal."

As you exit the office and walk back to your sister, "well?" Ellie stares at you.

You try to hide the grin spreading across your face.

Ellie narrows her eyes. "No. No, no, no- don’t you dare try and be cool right now- well?!"

You turn to her, grin slipping free, "she said yes."

Ellie gasps, "WOOHOO!" She fist-pumps the air and nearly knocks over her water bottle in the process. "Yes! My matchmaking era!"

You laugh as she cheers again, pounding her hands on the dash with unfiltered joy.

Back inside the office, Wanda hears the muffled noise through the door and smiles quietly to herself, shaking her head.

Then suddenly, Ellie’s voice cuts through the joy like a knife, "wait a minute."

You glance over, "what?"

Ellie turns toward you slowly, horror blooming in her expression. "Holy shit. Does this mean I have to change therapist again?!"

Thank you for reading!:)

[filthyjoelslvr]

Red, White, and Worn

Content: joelmiller x reader

Synop: When Tommy dragged Joel to the town's fireworks show, he was ready to hide in the shade and avoid the crowd. That is, until he locks eyes with you — the girl he can't help but want to always be around.

Warnings: no outbreak! joel, age gap (unspecified but mentioned), fingering, praise kink, lowkey sub joel, pinv, riding, creampie, joel and reader have a past

Word Count: 10k

(dividers by: @enchanthings) MINORS DNI!!!!

The sun was already beating down like it had something to prove, and Joel hadn’t even made it out of his damn driveway yet.

He slipped on his boots with a sigh, muttering something halfway between a prayer and a curse. The kind of groan a man makes when he knows he’s been tricked but shows up anyway, out of pride more than willingness.

Tommy had called the night before, talking all sweet about “spendin’ quality time” and “family traditions”, like Joel wasn’t sharp enough to hear the beer cooler slamming shut in the background.

“Be good for you,” Tommy had said. “Sarah’ll like it.”

“It ain’t even that crowded,” he’d lied.

Joel could smell the bullshit from three blocks over, but still — here he was. Climbing into his truck at ten in the goddamn morning, barely caffeinated, to go stand around in the heat and listen to country cover bands butcher Springsteen for the sake of freedom.

He rubbed a hand down his jaw, already tired.

Sarah had gone with a friend for the weekend, which left Joel squarely without an excuse when Tommy came calling. And Joel knew his brother — had known him since birth, in fact — so he knew damn well “family time” actually meant “Joel’s gonna be my designated driver while I get shitfaced and try to impress some bartender I dated in highschool.”

Still. He’d gone.

The festival grounds were already starting to fill by the time Joel parked behind the fire station. Kids running around sticky with popsicles, someone fiddling with busted speakers over a too-small stage, red, white, and blue streamers hanging like they were doing any real work against the Texas sun.

Joel spotted Tommy near the grills — beer already in hand — grinning like a man who knew he owed someone a big favor later.

“There he is,” Tommy called, arms wide like Joel was just returning from war. “Was startin’ to think you’d come to your senses and stayed home.”

Joel shoved his hands in his pockets. “Still considerin’ it.”

“C’mon now,” Tommy said, clapping him on the back, “You’ll have a good time. Might even get a smile outta you.”

“Doubt it.”

Tommy laughed and wandered back toward the beer tent, already pointing at someone Joel didn’t recognize, yelling something about flip cup. Joel stayed where he was, jaw clenched, hands still in his pockets, taking in the chaos.

He hadn’t been to this thing in a couple years — not since Sarah was little enough to want matching shirts and face paint. Now she was sixteen, and he was just the guy holding her water bottle while she bounced between booths, pretending he didn’t exist unless she needed cash.

He couldn’t blame her. She was growing up. Fast. And he was still… here. Still Joel. Still tired. Still stuck somewhere between grateful and lonesome.

He was about to go find some shade — or maybe just fake a heatstroke and leave early — when he saw you across the lawn.

Hands full with a stack of folding chairs, face flushed from the sun and effort, talking to some teenager who clearly wasn’t helping nearly enough. You hadn’t seen him yet, but Joel’s feet didn’t move. Not right away.

Something about the way you were frowning — all business, all fire — made his chest go still for a second. Like he’d forgotten how to breathe around you, even if it wasn’t the first time.

“Shit,” He muttered under his breath.

Because now there was no leaving. Not yet. Not until he talked to you. Not until he remembered what his voice sounded like when it wasn’t locked behind his damn teeth.

Tommy, the bastard, might’ve dragged him here — but Joel suddenly wasn’t so sure he minded.

Joel hadn’t even known you were back in town until Tommy brought you to the house one Sunday afternoon, carrying a pan of something that smelled too good for a recipe pulled off the back of a box. You wore a sundress, your hair pulled half up, and you laughed with your whole chest — the kind of sound that filled a room before anyone even asked what was funny.

Tommy had waved off Joel’s surprise like it wasn’t a big deal. Said you’d needed a break. That things back home got heavy, and Austin was “as good a place as any to catch your breath.”

And just like that, you started showing up. To cookouts. To game nights. To nothing nights, where Tommy flipped through channels and you curled up at the far end of his couch with a glass of wine and your bare feet tucked under you.

You and Tommy had history, sure — and that was part of what made Joel keep his damn hands to himself. You hadn’t dated long, not seriously. A couple months, years back. Tried something after a few late-night beers and one too many old memories. But it fizzled out before it got messy. You both knew it wasn’t the right fit, and you’d stayed close. Real close. Tommy still called you “trouble” and you still rolled your eyes at him like he was your annoying older brother, even if he wasn't really.

Joel hadn’t said much about it at the time. But it stuck with him — that you’d been close enough to try. Close enough to be around.

And now you were always around.

Sometimes you brought over a pie from that little diner off 290, sometimes you just brought a book and sat near the window while Tommy worked on his truck in the driveway. And Joel — well, he tried not to hover. He tried not to watch you trace your finger around the rim of your glass, or tap your painted nails against the arm of the couch when you were thinking. He tried. But he wasn’t made of stone.

The worst part? You noticed.

You never pushed. Never called him out. But there were these moments. Tiny ones. Moments no one else ever seemed to catch but him.

Like when your knees bumped under the coffee table and neither of you moved. When he handed you a fresh beer and your fingers lingered too long around his. When you sat beside him on Tommy’s couch — just close enough that your perfume slid under his skin — and crossed your legs slow, with your knee brushing his thigh like you didn’t even notice.

Except you did.

Joel would sit there, jaw tight, trying not to shift. Trying not to lean half an inch to the left and lose his goddamn mind. He’d stare at the TV, pretending like he wasn’t hyper-aware of your soft laugh, your bare shoulder brushing his arm, the way your voice dropped low when you asked him things you didn’t ask anyone else.

It was a slow kind of torture. Familiar. Intimate in a way that made it worse, because you were Tommy’s friend. And you were younger — not by a lot, not in a way that mattered to anyone else, just a little younger than Tommy — but enough that Joel noticed. Enough that it made him second-guess everything he wanted to say.

So he didn’t say anything at all.

He kept his hands to himself. Kept his voice even. Played the part. And every time you looked at him like you were waiting for him to stop pretending, he just gritted his teeth and looked away.

But it was there. The tension. The want.

It was there every time you sat next to him and laughed at something stupid Tommy said. Every time your thigh touched his and neither of you moved. Every time you passed behind him in the kitchen and your fingers brushed the small of his back just enough to burn.

Joel told himself it didn’t mean anything. That he was just imagining it. But sometimes, late at night, lying awake in a too-quiet house — he let himself think about what it would mean if he wasn’t.

He didn’t move until you looked up.

Not until that sun-flushed face tilted toward him, lips parting mid-sentence like the words had stalled the second your eyes found his. A beat. Then another. And then — the corner of your mouth quirked, slow and knowing.

You knew he was staring. Didn’t mind, apparently.

Joel swallowed, throat dry, and finally took a step. Then another. The grass crunched beneath his boots, loud even over the distant twang of country music and the crackle of a barbecue smoker. Some little kid ran past with a sparkler already lit, despite it being hours from dark, but Joel barely noticed.

You straightened as he got closer, nudging the teen beside you with your elbow. “Go help your mom,” you told the kid — sweet, but firm. “She’s drowning in potato salad.”

The boy groaned but obeyed, trudging off toward one of the picnic tables. You turned your full attention to Joel.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Did Tommy bribe you, or threaten you?”

“Bit of both,” Joel said, voice low and rough like it always got around you. “Said I needed to ‘get out the damn house.’”

You laughed. Not loud, like you did with Tommy — this was quieter. Softer. Just for him.

“Well, it’s good you came. Wouldn’t be a real country 4th without a Miller somewhere nearby, drinking beer and trying to pretend they’re not enjoying themselves.”

Joel’s mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile threatening his usual scowl. He nodded toward the chairs in your arms. “You always haul furniture around at parties, or is this a special occasion?”

You huffed. “Only when I don’t trust a bunch of teenagers to not break their necks sitting on a plastic cooler.”

“Smart,” he said, then reached out without thinking. “Here— gimme that.”

You hesitated. Just a second. Long enough to make him think maybe you’d say no, that you'd insist you had it. But then your hands lifted, slow and deliberate, and you let the weight of the chairs fall into his grip.

And Jesus, your fingers brushed his. Barely. But it was enough.

“Thanks,” you said, and he couldn’t tell if you meant for the help or the touch.

Joel cleared his throat, nodded once. “Where you want ‘em?”

You pointed to a shady patch under an old oak tree, where some red-checkered blankets were already laid out.

“Over there. Figured we’d claim a spot before the fireworks start and everybody loses their damn minds.”

Joel followed you, the chairs clanking in his grip, and tried not to think too hard about the we in your sentence. As if it was natural. As if he was part of it.

You bent down to spread out the last of the blankets, smoothing the corners with the palm of your hand, and Joel stood there like a fool, watching the sun catch in your hair. You looked up at him from your knees, squinting slightly.

“You gonna sit, or just stand there brooding all day like it’s your job?”

Joel grunted as he dropped into one of the folding chairs beside you. “Ain’t brooding.”

You gave him a look. One of those crooked, knowing smiles that made his stomach feel a little too warm, even in the heat.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you said, leaning back and stretching your legs out in front of you. The sunlight slid down your thighs, bare and golden, and Joel had to look away before his brain short-circuited.

You were wearing cutoff denim shorts — frayed at the edges, soft and worn like they’d been in your drawer for years. Your tank top was cut off just above your belly button, red and sleeveless with little white stars that shimmered when you moved. And the boots — well, the boots might’ve killed him outright. Worn leather, scuffed at the toes, like you actually used them instead of buying them for show. And your legs? Jesus.

He tipped his hat forward just enough to cast a shadow over his eyes, hoping you didn’t notice how long he’d been staring.

Tommy had shoved it at him when he had arived — the damn hat — said it was “time to look the part.” Joel rolled his eyes but wore it anyway. Figured it wasn’t the worst thing if it kept the sun out of his face — and maybe kept him from looking directly at you too long, burning up like an idiot under your smile.

He wore his usual uniform: faded jeans, boots that had seen too many summers, and a dark button-down rolled to his elbows. But the hat… it changed things a little. He saw the way you glanced up at him when he first walked over. The way your gaze ticked up his chest and settled on the brim of his hat for a second longer than it needed to.

Now, though, he was trying not to look like a statue while you laughed — not with him, but with Tommy.

Joel clocked it the second his brother trotted back from the beer tent, all smug smiles and mischief.

“You ready, trouble?” Tommy asked, nudging your shoulder like a kid on the playground.

You gave Joel a little shrug, like this was nothing. “He signed us up for the two-step contest.”

Joel blinked. “He what?”

“She agreed,” Tommy cut in, waving a finger in your direction. “She just didn’t know it was happening right now.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t look the least bit reluctant. In fact, you stood up with a stretch, brushing the grass from your shorts and fixing your hair with a quick twist. “C’mon,” you said to Tommy, “before I change my mind.”

Joel watched as you walked away — boots kicking up dust, hips swaying just enough to make it hard to focus on anything else. His jaw clenched.

It was stupid. It was a damn dance. Just two people who’d known each other forever, having fun on a hot Texas afternoon.

It started innocent enough.

Tommy clapped his hands and offered you a dramatic little bow, grinning like the devil in front of the makeshift dance floor. You rolled your eyes but took his hand anyway, letting him pull you through the crowd toward the small space roped off near the main stage. Joel watched from his chair, legs stretched out and arms crossed tight over his chest, beer bottle untouched in his lap.

The fiddle picked up into something fast and familiar, a classic two-step rhythm that had the older couples already out there gliding in circles like they’d been practicing since the ‘80s. Tommy turned to you with that cocky grin Joel had known since childhood and gave your hand a tug.

“You remember how, right?”

“Please,” you said, snorting. “Try to keep up, old man.”

You were already laughing as you stepped into position, hands finding their place — one in his, the other on his shoulder. Tommy’s arm slid around your waist, easy and familiar, and Joel felt his jaw lock tight.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you and Tommy touch. There were always little things — hugs, play fights, a casual lean into each other on the couch when you were both half-drunk on a Sunday night. But this? This was different.

This was close.

You were pressed chest-to-chest, hips aligned, boots moving in tandem. Tommy spun you once, then again, hand sliding down your back to steady you. You laughed, breathless, your head tipping back as the brim of your hat nearly knocked into his.

Joel couldn’t look away.

Your tank top clung to the curve of your spine when you spun, and those shorts — they rode a little higher with every turn, showing off long, tanned legs that Joel had spent too many damn nights imagining wrapped around his hips. And the way Tommy held you — not crude, not possessive, but comfortable. Like he’d done it before.

And he had. That was the part Joel couldn’t ignore.

Tommy had kissed you. Held you. He knew how your laugh felt against his neck, how your skin felt under his hands. He’d touched you in ways Joel never had — ways Joel never would, not if he kept letting his guilt tie a noose around his own damn throat.

You twirled again, and this time Tommy caught you low — his hand firm on your waist, the other lifting yours high as your back arched into the dip. The whole crowd cheered, clapping and whistling, but Joel barely heard it.

All he could focus on was how Tommy looked at you.

Not like a man still in love. No, that wasn’t it. But with history. With knowledge. With the kind of easy intimacy that didn’t just vanish, no matter how things ended. It was in the way he grinned when you rolled your eyes, the way his hand lingered a second too long at the small of your back, fingers splayed across bare skin like it belonged to him.

Joel looked away, but it didn’t help.

The image was burned behind his eyes — you, flush with laughter, your body tucked against his brother’s, dancing like it meant nothing.

And maybe it didn’t. Not to you. Not to Tommy.

But it sure as hell meant something to Joel.

He stared down at his boots, breathing through his nose like that might ground him. The brim of his cowboy hat cast his face in shadow, but it didn’t hide the twitch in his jaw, or the way his fingers curled tight around the beer bottle in his lap.

What the hell was he doing?

Wanting you was bad enough. But wanting you while you danced like that with Tommy — with the man who’d once tasted you, touched you, maybe even loved you — that made Joel feel sick. Twisted up and mean. Like some bitter old fool watching from the sidelines, full of things he had no right to feel.

He didn’t know if it was worse that Tommy had had you, or that he’d let you go without a fight.

Joel hadn’t had either luxury.

He’d never even tried.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, tipping his beer back in one long, desperate swallow.

You were laughing again, clapping as the song came to a close. Tommy bowed with flair, and you gave him a playful shove before heading back toward the chairs — cheeks flushed, hair sticking to the back of your neck, eyes bright.

Joel schooled his face the second you looked at him, forcing something like a smile onto his lips.

“You two win?” he asked, voice flat.

You shrugged. “Doubt it. But we didn’t fall over, so I’ll take the moral victory.”

You collapsed into the chair beside him with a sigh, fanning yourself with your hand. Joel passed you his beer without a word. You took it, tipped it toward him in thanks, and took a slow drink from the same bottle he’d just had his mouth on.

And just like that, he was gone again — head spinning, heart somewhere around his boots, throat dry with wanting.

You handed the bottle back, licking a bit of foam from your bottom lip.

“I’m stealing you for the next one,” you said casually, eyes on the band.

Joel didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Not when he was still trying to breathe through the fact that his brother’s hands had been on you — and his would never be.

The sun had softened by the time you and Joel wandered toward the vendor tents, the heat finally letting up just enough to breathe. Cicadas hummed from the trees, and the scent of grilled meat and fried dough floated in from the food trucks parked near the edge of the park.

The festival booths lined the gravel path like a row of open-air treasure chests. You slowed for nearly every one, and Joel followed — always half a step behind, hands in his pockets, hat tipped low over his brow.

You picked up candles and sniffed them, laughing at one labeled Cowboy Kisses “Whatever that means,” you muttered, tapped your nails against little bars of soap stamped with lavender & cedar, and ran your fingers over stacks of delicate bracelets made from leather and colored thread.

At one point, you stopped cold in front of a little handmade jewelry table.

Joel noticed it immediately. The way your eyes drifted to a small silver necklace strung with a turquoise charm — just a soft glint of blue and polished stone, barely the size of a fingernail. It wasn’t flashy. Wasn’t expensive. But you stared at it like it had whispered something only you could hear.

Then you reached for it — only to let go the second you saw the price.

You laughed under your breath and stepped back.

Joel’s voice came from beside you, low and steady. “You liked that one.”

You didn’t even look at him. “Yeah, but I didn’t bring cash. I wasn’t really planning to—”

He stepped forward and pulled out his wallet.

“Joel, no. Seriously, that’s not—”

“It’s not a big deal,” he said, already handing over a twenty.

You stood there flustered, watching the woman wrap it up in a little square of brown tissue and tuck it in a bag.

“I’ll pay you back,” you said, voice firmer now.

“Don’t want you to.”

“Then I’ll buy you something.”

He gave you a look. “It’s a gift.”

You paused. Just stared at him, your expression softening in a way that made Joel’s chest go too still.

“…Thank you,” you said, quieter now. “Really.”

He just shrugged — but the truth was, something about it mattered to him. It wasn’t just a necklace. It was a chance to give you something, something small and good. And you let him.

You pulled it out and clipped it around your neck right there at the edge of the booth. Lifted your hair with one hand, fingers brushing the back of your neck, and Joel looked away — jaw tight — before his mind wandered too far down that road.

But he still smiled when he saw it hanging there.

Tommy appeared out of nowhere about fifteen minutes later, stumbling in from the beer tent like he’d been pulled in on a breeze. He had a red solo cup in one hand and a bag of peanuts in the other.

“Y’all serious-faced over here,” he slurred, jabbing a peanut at Joel. “You givin’ her a lecture or what?”

You grinned. “He’s buying me jewelry, actually.”

Tommy blinked. “What the hell—Joel?”

Joel didn’t answer. Just sipped his drink and looked at the horizon.

Tommy squinted at you. “Wait, is that new?” He leaned closer. “You didn’t—did you buy that from Martha’s booth?”

You nodded proudly.

Tommy clutched his chest. “I been savin’ up for that exact one.”

You shoved him. “Get outta here.”

“Dead serious,” he said, totally unconvincing. “I was gonna wear it to church next week.”

“Please do,” you said. “I’d love to see it over your fishing shirt.”

Tommy winked and wandered off again, spilling peanuts as he went.

By the time dinner rolled around, the crowd had thickened. Tables filled with families, lawn chairs clustered near the food trucks, and the sweet haze of mesquite smoke hung over everything like a cloud.

You and Joel grabbed plates from a big fold-out buffet line — brisket, ribs, pickles, baked beans, cornbread — and settled at a long folding table with plastic tablecloths and mismatched chairs.

A few locals were already seated — folks Joel nodded at in passing — and you made conversation easily, always knowing what to say to make people feel at ease. Joel sat beside you, mostly quiet, his arm brushing yours every so often when he shifted in his seat.

Halfway through your plate, Tommy reappeared. This time slower. Red-faced. A little sweatier.

“Damn near forgot where y’all were,” he said, pulling up a chair across from you. “Place is a maze.”

Joel arched a brow. “Or you’re drunk.”

Tommy ignored him and narrowed his eyes at your plate.

“You done with that?” he asked, pointing.

You blinked. “My cornbread?”

He didn’t wait. Just reached across the table and stole it clean off your plate, took a massive bite like it was owed to him.

You stared at him in disbelief. “You animal.”

“’S good,” Tommy said, mouth full.

Joel laughed — really laughed — shoulders shaking as he shook his head. “You’re gonna regret all this when you wake up tomorrow.”

Tommy raised his cup. “That’s future Tommy’s problem.”

He eventually wandered off again, likely in search of another beer or another girl, but not before trying — and failing — to flirt with the woman handing out sweet tea near the smoker.

You and Joel watched him go, shaking your heads.

“He’s a menace,” you said, stealing a piece of brisket off Joel’s plate.

Joel glanced sideways at you. “Doesn’t bother you?”

You tilted your head. “What? Tommy hitting on girls?”

Joel nodded slowly, not quite looking at you.

“No. It doesn’t bother me.” You took your time chewing before answering. “I don’t feel that way about him anymore. Haven’t for a long time.”

Joel looked at you now, his eyes shadowed but focused.

“I love him, sure. But not in a way that fits with… y’know. Marriage and mortgages and sharing a damn toothbrush holder.”

Joel smirked at that.

“I love him like… a dumb brother who once kissed me in a bar parking lot and then apologized with Whataburger fries.”

Joel huffed a quiet laugh, looking down at his plate. He didn’t say anything right away. But he reached over and slid his remaining cornbread onto your plate.

You smiled.

The sun sank lower. Music picked up. Families spread out across the open lawn with picnic blankets, dogs on leashes, toddlers holding glow sticks like magic wands.

You and Joel stood just outside the crowd now, sipping fresh lemonades. You’d dusted powdered sugar off your hands after sharing a funnel cake, and you were watching the sky turn from gold to lavender.

“Where’s Sarah tonight?” you asked softly.

Joel’s mouth tightened just slightly. “With her friends.”

“Oh,” you said. “I thought she might be here.”

“Yeah. Me too.” He glanced toward the far edge of the festival. “Figured I’d run into her eventually, but… haven’t seen her once.”

You watched his face quietly for a beat.

“She’s sixteen now,” he added. “Thinks she’s grown. Wants space. Can’t blame her.”

You touched his arm lightly, a quiet gesture, grounding.

“She’s lucky to have you,” you said.

Joel didn’t answer.

But he didn’t look away either.

The crowd was thick now. The air smelled like warm spice and charcoal. The lights strung across the trees blinked to life one by one, little firefly bulbs casting everything in a soft yellow haze.

Joel stood beside you, hat tipped back, the hem of his sleeve brushing your arm.

And in the distance — past the noise, past the laughter, past the blur of everyone else — he still felt like it was just the two of you.

Like something was building. Something inevitable.

The first few notes of the song filtered through the air — slow, steel-stringed, soft enough to hush a crowd. A waltz rhythm, warm and nostalgic, played by a local band who clearly knew what they were doing. Joel didn’t know the name of the song, but he recognized the feel of it. Something country. Old but familiar. The kind of song you held someone to.

He was just about to take another sip of his lemonade when your face turned toward the stage, lit up like someone’d flipped a switch inside you.

“Oh,” you breathed. “God, I love this one.”

Joel blinked. “Yeah?”

“C’mon,” you said, already stepping backward, fingers curling toward him. “Let’s dance.”

He froze. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t—” He shook his head. “I don’t dance.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile stayed soft. “You can’t not dance to this.”

“Sure I can,” he said. “I’m doin’ it right now.”

You huffed, reaching for his hand. “Joel.”

He let you grab it, but didn’t move. His feet felt stuck. Too heavy.

“I’m serious,” he said. “I haven’t danced in years. And even then I wasn’t any good.”

You leaned in, eyes gleaming under the string lights, your grip tugging just enough to make his chest tighten.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said. “Pretend it’s just us. And I’ll lead if I have to.”

Joel stared at you for a second — at your sun-burnt cheeks, your messy hair, that damn necklace he’d bought hanging just above your collarbone — and knew he’d already lost.

“Shit,” he muttered.

You grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

And just like that, you dragged him to the edge of the crowd where couples were already swaying — boots scuffing against dry grass, arms looped around each other like they had all the time in the world.

Joel’s palms were already sweating. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself. But you turned toward him with your arms out, patient and open, and he stepped into them like it was the only place he wanted to be.

At first, it was awkward.

His left hand hovered near your waist like he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to get. His right hand held yours too tight, too stiff, his thumb locked over your knuckles like he was bracing for something. His boots fumbled the first few steps, off beat, slow to match yours. He moved like a man trying to remember how to speak a language he hadn’t used in years.

But you didn’t laugh.

You didn’t flinch.

You just smiled — that same damn smile that wrecked him — and stepped closer. One hand found his shoulder, the other still curled in his, and you leaned in enough that your chest nearly brushed his. You fit yourself into the space between his arms like you’d been there before — like you knew exactly where to go and how to hold him.

Your fingers smoothed along the back of his neck, feather-light, a little bolder now. Joel felt it straight through to his spine. His breath hitched. His hand, finally, settled low at your waist — then a little lower, just above the curve of your hips, his palm broad and warm against your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. He could feel the heat of you through his rough palm.

“Relax,” you whispered, lifting your hand to toy gently with the hair curling at the nape of his neck. “You’re fine.”

And somehow, that was all it took.

Joel exhaled, long and low. His shoulders dropped. His hand on your back slid just slightly — no longer hovering, now holding. His thumb traced a slow, absent circle against your spine. You didn’t seem to notice, or maybe you did — but you didn’t pull away.

You shifted, just enough to press more of yourself into him.

Your bodies found a rhythm.

The two of you swayed in slow circles, boots brushing grass, the rest of the world dimming around you. You moved fluidly, letting him follow your lead for a beat or two — guiding his hips with the subtle shift of your own. Your chest grazed his with every slow turn. Your thigh slid alongside his, warm and firm and steady.

Joel’s hand curled more firmly at your waist, tugging you subtly closer. Not possessive — just... certain.

You didn’t back away.

Instead, you tilted your head and rested your temple near the hollow of his throat, and Joel felt your breath against his skin. Slow. Steady. Your fingers pressed lightly into his chest now, palm warm over his heartbeat.

“You’re not nervous,” he murmured, more a question than a statement.

“No.”

He swallowed.

“Why?”

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes — close enough he could count every fleck of gold in them under the glow of the string lights.

“Because I’m dancing with you.”

Joel didn’t breathe for a second. Didn’t move.

You looked at him like you’d been waiting. Not for this moment exactly — but for him. The way he held you. The way he looked at you like it cost him something.

His hand slid a little lower, fingers brushing the curve where your back met your hips. Not deliberate. Just instinct. Your hand, in turn, curled behind his neck, fingers threading lightly through the ends of his hair. The motion was slow. Intimate. Like you were trying to memorize him.

Joel wanted to say something — anything — but it was too much. You. The music. The warmth of your body against his. He could feel the subtle give of your thigh every time it brushed his. The softness of your stomach when it pressed against him during a turn. The perfume clinging to your collarbone, faint and sweet and dizzying.

He swore he could feel the outline of your necklace — the one he bought — pressed between your chest and his.

“Do you dance with Tommy like this?” he asked, voice low and tight.

You didn’t flinch. “Once or twice. He was always a good dancer.”

Joel nodded, eyes flicking down between you.

“But not like this.”

His gaze snapped back to yours.

“Not like this,” you repeated, quieter now.

Your fingers ghosted across his jaw, slow and soft. Like you weren’t sure where you were going with the touch — only that you needed to feel him. You let them drift down, over the curve of his throat, and rest just above his collarbone. His pulse thudded against your fingertips.

Joel didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. He just held you tighter. Pulled you in until there was nothing left between you but the thump of his heart and the music still turning slow around you.

The song stretched on.

And neither of you moved to leave.

Not until you shifted in his arms again, a little reluctant, and said, “It’s really crowded.”

Joel blinked. Looked around.

And yeah. The field was full now. Packed with people, laughter, music vibrating through the ground. Kids zipped between legs with sparklers. Someone tripped near the lemonade stand. The noise was rising now, voices layered over voices, the heat of the crowd closing in.

“It’s a little overwhelming,” you admitted, still half in his arms.

Joel hesitated.

Then swallowed.

“I got an idea,” he said quietly. “Could drive the truck up the ridge. Little hill just past the treeline — looks out over the whole fairground.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “Really?”

He nodded, trying not to sound too eager. “Wouldn’t have to deal with the crowd. Be a good spot to watch the fireworks.”

You smiled — slow and genuine — and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Joel felt it then. That low hum in his chest. The quiet shift between maybe and more. And this time, he didn’t look away.

Joel felt it the second you pulled away from him — a quiet sort of ache, like his arms were still shaped around your body even after you'd slipped out of them. The space left behind felt colder than it should’ve. Emptier.

But before he could dwell on it, your fingers caught his again.

You didn’t look back. Just grabbed his hand and took off through the grass like the fairgrounds were on fire and only he could save you. Laughing, tugging, nearly pulling him off balance as your boots kicked up dust. The smile on your face lit up more than any firework ever could, and Joel — he let himself be dragged. Chest tight. Heart thudding. Somewhere between disbelief and wonder.

“Where’d you park?” you called out, already halfway across the field.

“Behind the fire station,” Joel answered, a little breathless.

You didn’t slow. Didn’t even hesitate. You just looked over your shoulder with a grin and said, “Perfect,” like this was always the plan. Like tonight belonged to the two of you and no one else.

By the time you reached the truck, Joel’s chest was tight with something he didn’t want to name. His brother — the festival, the rest of the night — it all blurred in the background. And suddenly, he was realizing what he’d just done.

He’d left everything behind. Because you asked.

You jumped into the passenger seat like it was second nature, throwing your legs up on the dash as he climbed in and turned the key. The engine rumbled to life, headlights flicking on as the gravel crunched beneath the tires.

The ride was short — a backroad trail Joel knew like the lines of his own hands. A hill just past the treeline, not too far but far enough. Quiet. High. The fairgrounds stretched out below like something out of a postcard, lights glowing soft against the dark.

“It’s so pretty up here,” you murmured, voice quiet like you didn’t want to break it.

Joel parked and killed the engine. For a second, he didn’t move.

“Y’know,” he said, glancing at you, “I didn’t plan on leavin’. Didn’t think I’d… end the night this way.”

You tilted your head, smiling softly. “And now?”

Now, he can’t imagine wanting anything else.

But he didn’t say that. Just gave a small shrug and stepped out of the truck.

You followed close behind as he lowered the tailgate, reaching into the back for the old flannel blanket he always kept tucked under a toolbox. He spread it out like he’d done it a hundred times before — smooth and instinctive — then sat down with a quiet sigh.

You climbed up beside him, crossing your legs as the night settled in. The only light came from the moon and the distant glow of the fairground below. The music was still playing somewhere in the distance, muffled and soft, barely loud enough to recognize.

Fireworks would start any minute.

Joel sat with his hands resting loosely on his knees, careful not to let them drift too close. But that didn’t last long.

Without hesitation, you scooted closer and curled into his side — like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your head settled on his shoulder, your arm wrapped around his waist, and Joel went still.

Completely still.

Like if he moved too fast, the moment might disappear.

His arm hovered for a second before he wrapped it around you — slow, deliberate — pulling you in until there wasn’t even air left between you. Your body was warm against his. Your hair smelled like sun and sugar. And Joel… he didn’t breathe right for a whole minute.

The tailgate was warm beneath you, the blanket soft against your legs, but Joel barely noticed any of it.

Not when you were curled into his side like that.

You fit against him so naturally, your head tucked under his chin, your arm wrapped around his middle. The distant noise of the fair was a low hum now, like it belonged to another world entirely. All he could hear was the steady rhythm of your breathing and the way the trees rustled gently above you.

“I’ve had an amazing day,” you said, your voice low, quiet against his shoulder.

Joel’s eyes flicked down to you, something pulling tight in his chest. “Yeah?”

You nodded slowly. “Really amazing.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just squeezed your side gently, his thumb tracing slow, careful circles over the fabric of your shirt.

“I wish I could stay in this moment,” you murmured.

Joel swallowed. Hard.

You shifted slightly, enough to lift your head and look at him. The glow of the moon caught the side of your face, lighting up your features in soft silver. He could see every detail — the way your lashes fluttered, the faint crease between your brows, the corner of your mouth twitching like you wanted to smile but weren’t sure if you should.

“I know why you never said anything,” you said softly. “Why you never crossed that line.”

Joel’s breath caught in his throat.

You didn’t look away. “Because of Tommy. Right?”

His jaw tensed, but he nodded. Once.

You exhaled slowly, a warm puff of air across his collar. “But Joel… you can't let Tommy stop you from taking what you want."

Joel didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

Because you were leaning in — slow and sure — and his whole body went still, like something sacred was about to happen. His heart thundered in his chest. He didn’t think. Didn’t breathe.

Then you kissed him.

Soft. Barely there.

Just a press of lips, gentle and hesitant, like you were giving him one last chance to pull away.

He didn’t.

Instead, he tilted into you — his hand sliding up your back, his fingers threading through your hair — and kissed you back.

And this time it wasn’t hesitant.

It was deep and slow, warm and certain. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself into his chest, and Joel’s hand moved to your waist, steady and sure. Your bodies fit like puzzle pieces, heat pressed to heat, and Joel felt his blood roar with something fierce and long-denied.

You kissed like it was the only thing keeping you alive. Like it was the only thing that had ever made sense.

And then — just as your lips started to part again — you pulled back, barely a breath between you, eyes half-lidded and glowing under the moonlight.

“Shit,” you whispered, breathless. “We’re gonna miss the fireworks.”

Joel looked at you for half a second — then reached up, cupped your cheek in his palm, and pulled you right back in.

“Don’t care.”

And then his mouth was on yours again, firmer this time, more certain. His other hand slid up your back, drawing you closer until you were half in his lap, arms still looped around his neck. The kiss deepened, grew slow and heated, like the two of you were speaking in a language no one else had ever understood.

And then — just as your lips pressed to his like you’d never get enough of him —

Boom.

The first firework exploded behind you, gold and brilliant, lighting up the entire sky.

You didn’t even flinch.

Joel kept kissing you like the world could burn behind him and he still wouldn’t let go.

Because this was it. The moment. The one he hadn’t let himself want for far too long.

And now that it was here — with you wrapped around him, fireworks blooming above, the world fading away — he finally let himself have it.

All of it.

All of you.

You crawled into Joel's lap with ease, legs straddling his hips, arms still wrapped around his neck. Joel's hands trailed down the small of your back, thumbs rubbing gentle circles at the small indented dimples before resting against the soft skin.

Your fingers gently tugged at the curls of his hair, deepening the kiss as his mouth parted wider, inviting you in. He felt the way your tongue slipped past his lips, tangling with his own. You tasted of brisket, lemonade, and something intoxicating that he couldn’t imagine ever getting enough of.

It’s almost as if he could get addicted to you — like your lips are some drug luring him in, prepared to ruin his entire life — and he would let that happen without a fight. Fireworks continue to explode behind you, colorful sparks filling the night sky. Cheers a distant sound from the crowd below.

For a fleeting moment, he contemplates stopping this. He envisions a romantic moment—a cherished memory of witnessing the breathtaking display in the sky with a beautiful girl by his side. Fireworks are a rare occurrence, coming around only once a year. Besides, he could take you home tonight if you let him.

But the idea quickly fades from his mind as quickly as it had come to him when your hips brushed against the rough fabric of his jeans, seeking friction from him. In that moment, he found a kind of relief that he didn’t even realize he was craving.

The denim around his crotch tightened as he felt himself becoming hard from your movements. He couldn’t believe he had even considered turning this down for a light show he didn’t even want to attend.

His hands slide lower from your back, meeting the curve of your ass. He pulls you tighter, eliminating any space between you. The kiss becomes sloppy, your spit covering his lips, and drool probably dripping down his chin as if you were his last meal.

Your hands frantically search for the buttons on the front of his flannel, tearing them apart in a desperate attempt. Joel hesitates, wondering if he should be doing this. But what did you say? Take what you want.

So it isn’t long before he follows your lead, slipping his hands beneath the tight fabric of your tank top. Feeling the swell of your breasts, the peak of your hardening nipples. Of course a girl like you wouldn’t wear a bra to an event like this.

You pull away from him, admire the way Joel's eyes are heavy with lust, thumbs rubbing tenderly, circling along your nipples. He watches the way your eyes trail down his exposed chest, hands slowly trailing along his tough, tanned and sun-worn skin. Built for a man his age.

“I’ve been dreaming of this,” you admit, a shy smile spreading across your face.

It makes Joel blush. Makes him realize you were down just as bad as he was.

“Me too.” He replies, kissing the corner of your mouth. For a moment, you sit there just staring at each other. Not awkward. Not scared or nervous. Just trying to grasp that this moment is real. That Joel finally has you in his arms. In a way he never thought would happen.

But finally you move, hands lifting at his belt, unclasping the buckle and almost ripping it from the constraints of his belt loops. The romantic and sweet moment quickly changes to something hot and dangerous. Something fast and needy.

Joel pulls your tank top above your head, revealing your bare chest. Your sacred skin. The way your breasts fit perfectly in the palms of his hands. He leans in, taking your aching nipple between his teeth and sucking lightly before flicking his tongue against it.

Your hands continued fumbling with his jeans, pulling them down when he lifted his thighs to help you out a little. And just as quickly, you pull down your own shorts — throwing them to the side like they mean nothing to you. Like they were in the way.

It drives Joel crazy when he feels how wet you are against his boxers. How wet you are through your own panties. He can’t believe you needed him in this way. Can’t believe he gets to tend to that need. Precum already seeps through his own boxers — especially with the way you grind against him, trailing yourself up his entire length.

You slide your hand down his waistband, palming him and feeling his entire length — rubbing your thumb across his leaking slit. This draws a long groan from somewhere deep within Joel's chest. The desperation in your touch makes Joel's head spin, dizzying yet electrifying. He knows how bad you want him, but as if he were questioning it, you confirm his thoughts.

“I want you so bad, Joel,” you say in a whisper so sweet it’s like Joel can taste it on his tongue.

“Yeah?” He groans, rubbing you through the soft cotton of your panties. “So fuckin’ soaked.”

“Touch me.” You beg, already pulling the fabric to the side. Joel likes how certain you are. How you tell him exactly what you want without a single thread of hesitation.

And he can’t help but admire the sight of you, wriggling into his thumb — chasing his touch.  He trails his finger through your folds, watching the way he glides between them. Watching the way your juices glisten in the light of the fireworks. He rubs soft circles over your throbbing clit, finally offering you some sort of relief. You throw your head back slightly, sighing at the feeling.

He takes this as an opportunity to plant small kisses in the center of your chest, traveling slowly to the insides of your breasts as his index finger slides past your walls. His rough hand grazes over the peaks of your other nipple before wrapping his arm around your upper back to hold you steady as his pace between your legs quickens.

Joel thought that he would be focused on the way you take him in as he enters a second finger. Thought maybe he would watch the way you play with your own breasts as you arch your back to his touch. But no, all his attention is on how beautiful you look underneath the light of the moon. How your lips form a slight frown and small whines escape your lips. How your cheeks glow with a small blush and your eyes become glassy underneath your lashes.

You look so beautiful and full of a type of pleasure that could make Joel do this for the rest of his life. It doesn’t matter that his wrist is cramping from the awkward, bent position he has it in his lap. It doesn’t matter that his arm is getting worn out from the pace of his fingers. It doesn’t matter that his back hurts from sitting straight up with you in his lap and nothing to lean against. As long as he gets to please you, hear those pretty moans trapped behind your clenched teeth.

“Joel��� fuck me, please.” You basically whimper.

“Yeah— yeah. Of course, sweetheart,” because who is Joel to deny your wish? "Whatever you want."

Joel shoves his boxers down just enough to pull out his thick, throbbing cock. You take him in your soft hands — so different from his own calloused ones — and lift your hips just enough to line him up with your entrance.

You look him up and down, gaze trailing from his lips to is eyes, and rub his tip along your clit. Joel watches the way your jaw drops open slightly from your own pleasure. He loves the way you touch yourself with is own dick, as if he were just some toy — he didn’t mind.

“So fuckin’ hot, baby,” he says as you start sliding him between your folds.

“Want to feel me?” You tease, as if you didn’t already know the answer to that. You push his tip barely between your walls. Just enough to give him a little taste. Just enough to have him crying for more.

“God— come on,” he whines. He fucking whines. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Say please.”

And Joel can’t believe he’s doing this. He was never one to beg in bed. Never one to submit his control. But it’s like you make him a completely different man. So here he is, fucking begging.

“Fuck, please, sweetheart. I need.”

And with that, you slowly slide yourself down his length. Joel's breath stutters as you clench around him — adjusting to his size. He has no fucking idea how he’s going to last as he watches your pussy swallow every inch. Watches how you drip a trail of your sweet wetness along his shaft when you slowly lift yourself back up.

You start at a slow, steady pace, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in the crook of his neck. He can feel your hot breath against his skin, feel every time you’re breath catches when you hit that perfect spot.

“Shit, sweetheart... feel so good.” He groans, grabbing your hips. He dips his fingers into your plump skin and helps lift you up —quickening your pace.

“No,” you say, pushing his hands away. “Wanna do it myself. Wanna please you on my own.”

You push him till he’s leaning back on his elbows. The truck bed now digging into his skin. You seat yourself fully on him. Joel has completely disappeared inside of you and it drives him crazy. He doesn’t know how he held himself back from you for so long. He doesn’t know if he’s ever going to be able to hold himself back again.

You roll your hips, gasping as your walls clamp around him. Your fingernails dig into his sides as you steady yourself — knees lifting just to fall back down. Feeling all of him in an overwhelming manner.

“Take your time, baby.” Joel coddles, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. You look so pretty. So breathtaking. The way you're dedicated to pleasing him, even though he would be more than willing to please you.

But, of course you refuse. What did he expect, honestly? Your pace quickens, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills his ears, mixed with the explosion of the fireworks behind you. His touch trails from your hair, down your neck, to the front of your chest.

His mouth has fallen open, taking in the way you squeeze around him when he palms your tender swell, grazing his thumb over your nipple. He loves the way your body reacts to him.

“My perfect girl.” He mutters, fingers now trailing down the front of your belly till they rest on your hip.

“I’m yours, Joel.” You moan, as you fuck yourself down on him deeper. Your legs start shaking around him and Joel can’t tell if it’s because you’re close or you’re tired. He pushes you farther though, pressing pleasure against your clit with his thumb.

Your movements falter. “Oh— oh my god.” His thumb starts rubbing quick circles around the tender nerves.

Your body gives out as you fall against him. It’s almost as if you’ll never be able to use your legs against. He knew that you pushed yourself too hard, but he knew you weren’t done yet. Quickly, he pulls your legs from underneath him and flips you over.

You’re on your hands and knees facing the edge of the cliff in front of you, arching your back — ready for him again. Joel positions himself behind you and grabs your ass harshly, pulling you flush against him as he thrusts himself back inside of you.

A small scream leaves you with the sudden stretch, a burning you can’t help but love. And Joel can’t help but love his view. He doesn’t think it can get any better than this — your ass agasint his lower stomach, soft skin clapping with each thrust, fireworks still exploding in the sky.

Joel digs his rough fingers into your skin, cock buried deep as he pushes you forward and pulls you back into him. Your moans are loud and untamed. He’d be afraid of someone hearing if the fairgrounds weren't filled with people and country music.

“Don’t stop, Joel. I’m so close.” You whimper. Joel reaches down between your legs and rubs the pads of his fingers against your clit. “Oh god— Joel.”

“Just like that, baby.” He whispers, fingers soaked with your juices dripping down your thighs. You pulse around him and start meeting his thrusts with your own. “Yeah, that’s right. Cum on my dick, babygirl.”

And you do, hard and loud. Your screams fill the night air, mixed with small curses and the moan of his name somewhere in between. And Joel isn’t much further behind — pounding into you with little forgiveness.

He can feel your wetness collecting at the base of his cock — thick creamy strands connecting your bodies togethers. He leans over you, keeping his rhythm.

“Good fuckin’ girl. Takin’ me so well.” He breathes into your ear. Your thighs tremble at the overstimulation. Tears pool at your lashes.

But he doesn’t stop. He continues chasing his high, determined on giving you what you’re meant to receive.

“Joel… want to watch you cum on me.”

“Fuck... such a filthy girl, aren’t ya?” He groans. But still, he pulls out and spins you around. Your back now flat against the truck bed, mouth parted and eyes wide — ready for him. Joel's knees cradle around your hips, hovering over you, as his hand tugs roughly down his entire shaft.

Something about the way you wait patiently for him draws him over the edge and hot strands of cum shoot straight for your chest. He continues pumping until he’s squeezed out every last drop — some beads fall across your cheek — then collapses on his side.

You lay in silence, only the sound of your breaths filling the air, chests heaving and sweat beading on his forehead.

“Oh my god, Joel, look.” You shout, pulling his attention from trying to regain his strength.

He quickly follows your gaze. Streaks of color fill the sky. Red, white, and blue sparks and explosions shoot up one after the other. So beautiful and captivating.

“Well, at least we didn’t miss the finale.” He laughs and pulls you closer to enjoy the view. Your naked bodies entangled with each other, watching the show in front of you.

When they finally end, he uses the blanket to clean you up and helps you dress — your legs so shaky you can barely stand.

Joel tossed the blanket in a nearby trash can and turned around just in time to see you smiling.

You hadn’t moved. Still sitting on the tailgate, legs swinging just a little, like you were trying to hold on to the last sliver of summer night. Your hair caught the moonlight in soft pieces. And your smile — that sweet, steady thing you aimed right at him — said more than you ever had to speak aloud.

You weren’t sorry. Not even a little. And God, that did something to him.

Joel didn’t say a word. Just swallowed hard and climbed back into the cab beside you. His hand hovered on the keys. You leaned your head back against the seat, eyes still glassy from the glow of everything that had just happened between you.

Then—

“Aren't you supposed to take Tommy home?” You asked suddenly, a little breathless.

Joel blinked. “Shit.”

You were already laughing softly, covering your face. “He’s gonna kill you.”

“Or throw up on me.”

Joel started the truck, tires crunching down the gravel path as the fairgrounds began to glow again in the distance. But he could already feel it — the shift. Like the world had spun sideways a little, tilted just enough to show him something new. Or maybe something he’d been too afraid to really look at until now.

Because everything was different now.

And somehow… everything felt right.

He pulled into the fairgrounds to find Tommy exactly where Joel had parked earlier, leaning against the side of someone’s car like it was a wall made to keep him steady, arms crossed, hat crooked, one boot toe tapping in the dirt like a man who’d been waiting too long.

Joel didn’t even have time to put the truck in park before Tommy was pointing at them like they were late to their own trial.

“Where the fuck did y’all go?”

You were calm. Effortless.

“I got lightheaded,” you said, real serious, even though your eyes had a flicker of mischief. “Joel took me away from the crowd to get some fresh air and water."

Joel didn’t even look at you — didn’t need to. The lie slid so cleanly off your tongue it almost sounded like the truth. And it worked, because Tommy just squinted, rubbed his face, and muttered something about the heat.

“You okay now?” he asked.

“Fine,” you said quickly. “Joel took care of me.”

Joel’s fingers flexed on the wheel. His chest pulled tight.

Because that part was the truth.

Tommy climbed into the back seat like his limbs were too long for his body. He collapsed with a groan, smacking his lips like he’d just run a mile.

“Y’all missed it,” he slurred. “There was this girl. Blonde. Real sweet. Sat next to me. Think she’s in love.”

You turned to glance over the seat. “That so?”

“She gave me her funnel cake,” Tommy said proudly.

Joel side-eyed him in the mirror. “Maybe she just wanted you to shut up.”

Tommy ignored that. “Romantic as hell. Fireworks goin’ off, all dramatic. Then I turn around and you two are just gone. Disappeared like ghosts. Whole thing was suspicious as shit.”

Silence. Sharp and sudden.

Joel kept his eyes on the road, heart thudding hard in his ribs.

Tommy leaned forward between the seats. “Y’all are bein’ real weird right now. Like you’re hidin’ somethin’. Almost like…”

Joel didn’t move.

“…almost like y’all fucked or somethin’.”

You froze. Joel stiffened in his seat.

He felt the air shift. Knew Tommy did too.

And then, right as Joel thought his brother might actually see through him—

Tommy let out a loud bark of a laugh and smacked the back of Joel’s chair.

“I’m just fuckin’ with ya.”

Joel exhaled like he’d been punched in the gut.

You giggled beside him, face turned toward the window, shoulders shaking as you tried not to laugh.

“Jesus,” Joel muttered, pulling into the driveway. “He’s gonna give me a heart attack.”

Getting Tommy out of the truck and into the house was its own little disaster. He dropped his wallet three times, claimed he didn’t need his boots, and muttered about calling the blonde from the fireworks until Joel practically dragged him to bed.

You followed behind quietly, hands full of whatever Tommy discarded along the way.

By the time they got him into bed — sideways, boots off, snoring already — Joel felt ten years older.

The hallway was dim. The house had that deep, quiet stillness that only came late at night, when everything else in the world had settled down. You stood in the doorway of the guest room, fingers resting on the frame, watching him like he might disappear.

Joel turned to head for the couch.

“You sure?” you asked quietly. “It’s not too late to run.”

Joel smirked. “Tempting.”

You smiled, soft and sleepy, stepping inside the room and reaching for the bedside lamp.

Joel lingered a second longer. Not ready to say goodnight just yet.

When you looked up at him again, something shifted in your expression — soft around the edges, still glowing from earlier.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

He swallowed. And gave a slow, careful nod.

“Goodnight, darlin’.”

Your door shut with a soft click.

Joel stood there for a moment, staring at it.

Then he turned back toward the couch, exhaled, and sat down in the dark — the sound of your moans still echoing somewhere in the space between his ribs.

He'd never been so thankful for Tommy dragging him out before. But tonight... tonight was worth it.

a/n: i am actually in love with this one ughhhh. but no worries guys, seattle tommy coming real soon i promise!!!! also check out @thewritergx for some more one shots (;

[moonlight-canavalia]

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ You are My Way of Life. ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

•Pair: SylusxPlusSized!Reader (but anyone can read it, we’ve all had our bad days)

•Summary: No matter how confident we are, we’ve all had our off days. Where we fade into the quiet and insecurities rise. Wearing a red dress that feels more like a spotlight your insecurities get a voice. But Sylus is there to remind you how gorgeous you are. With each touch and word he uses he reminds you that he’s there. You are loved, desires and worshipped.

•CW: Sexual Tension, Suggestive Moments, Uh, Sylus takes off Readers dress at the end, Use of Petnames (its Sylus), Body Worship, Reassuring Words and Touches, Fluff, Comfort, Insecure Reader.

3,908 Words | AO3

The red dress hugged every curve, clinging like a second skin. You had stared at yourself in the mirror for what felt like hours, running your hands anxiously all over your body. Smoothing and pulling the fabric down over and over again. Every inch of your body felt exposed and on display. All of your insecurities felt highlighted.

Usually you're able to silence these crude voices in your head. Always reminding yourself that you are indeed pretty and amazing. The most important thing is always what you think about yourself. But tonight, it just felt a little harder to be your usual cheerful and assured self.

While you keep scrutinizing yourself you see Sylus walking up behind you, looming stature coming into view on the floor length mirror. His footsteps halted just behind you, his breath catching in his throat. You waited for him to say something,anything; one of his quick remarks, but the silence stretched.

In an instant he’s kissing your exposed shoulder, slowly making his way up, a deep and breathless “fuck” was muttered againts your neck. He could feel the wild thrumming of your heartbeat.

You try to turn slowly against him to not look at the mirror anymore, but he doesn’t let you. When you try to bring up your arms to cover yourself up, Sylus your movements. Big warm hands make their slow descent from your shoulders, to your hands, moving to your waist. He decides to rest one hand on your waist, while the other one cups your cheeks gently. Guiding your face to where your reflections are.

“Don’t hide from me” he makes his voice low, soothing against the shell of your ear “don’t you ever hide yourself from me, sweetie”

His crimson eyes trace the curve of your hips, how the fabric sculpts your waist, the softness of your stomach, the way your chest swelled under the tight neckline. And then lower, lingering on your left thigh, where the slit seems to start higher than he's used to; exposing more skin.

There was no judgement in his gaze. No doubts, no hesitation, no disgust which you had feared might appear.

There was only hunger, adoration, admiration.

Worship.

You saw a man that would drop to his knees if you asked him to, a man that worships the ground you walk on. The same man whose hands have been covered in blood countless of times, calloused by the harsh card life has dealt him with. Whose name instills fear without the need of his presence, a name uttered in revered silence at times or at times as a curse.

None of it matters, no one would believe that same man treats you like you're the most precious being in existence. Because in his eyes, you are. And he will continue to remind you of it. Especially on those days where your mind tells you the opposite.He sees you as his own goddess, an art piece that walks and breathes and has chosen him to share a life with. And he is a very grateful man for it. The fearsome leader is reduced to a devotee at the feet of his beloved.

“You’re unreal” he whispered, leaning in close, his warm lips grazing your shoulder. “Every dress I have made specifically for you is to accentuate your body, your features, every inch of you that makes my desires for you run rampant.” A shiver runs down your spine at his tone. He sinks his teeth lightly at the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulder,your hand makes its way up to tangle in his hair. “I had this dress made so I can see you like this, my gorgeous girl.”

A breathless laugh escapes your lips. His words sink underneath your skin, helping wash away those nagging negative thoughts. Sylus’ arms wrap tightly around you, grounding you into the moment.

“Sylus” you start but are interrupted by him.

“I’m serious, kitten” he murmured against your skin. “I won't lie or flatter you; you know that. Everytime you doubt yourself, remember this moment, remember me and my words. The way I look at you and how I can’t keep my hands to myself.” His hands are sliding down your waist, fingers splayed memorizing every inch he can feel underneath his fingertips.

Untangling your fingers from his hair you slowly drag your fingers down the side of his face. Turning in his embrace to face him. “Are you sure I look okay?”

Something in him breaks at the thought of his confident lover doubting herself. His eyes soften to look down at you and in the most gentle but desperate tone “Okay? My beloved, you are the most radiant, beautiful being in existence. My eyes always find you, there could be an ocean of people and no one will shine like you do.” Cupping your face with both of his hands, he guides you to his, leaving a kiss on your forehead then giving you a quick peck.

The wild beating of your heart has calmed down, now leaving behind honest words “I just feel like it's a bit too much for me, like I’m showing a lot, don't you think it shows everything?”

His eyes snap up to yours, his familiar smirk tugging at his lips. And you notice his gaze had darken, holding you in place like a spell casted on you. His eyes roam your face, like a secret only he knows, lingering like an ancient vow unspoken. It makes your skin prickle, not from fear, but from the way he sees you. As if he’s replaying something in his mind. It’s making your body feel hot under his intense gaze.

“You’re not showing too much, you’re showing you. And that is all I ever want for you, sweetie. You know exactly what your body does to me. But if you feel uncomfortable, we could look for something else. My top concern is your comfort, you look gorgeous in anything you wear, even if it's a trash bag.”

You snort at his last comment and the world narrows to just this moment. His warmth around you, his encouraging comforting words. And with that he leans in slow and steady, making sure this is what you want. The small smile you give serves as confirmation. Sylus’s lips meet yours in a kiss that steals the air from your lungs, it’s deep, tender with a hidden hunger that's always attached to him when it comes to you. It says I see you, I need you, I want all of you. His hand slides to your jaw, thumb slowly brushing across your cheek. The world feels like it's stopped spinning, pausing for you two to soak up this moment together without interruptions.

Looking deep into your eyes he states as a matter of fact. “Let me tell you this, kitten. This dress is testing my patience, and you know I am a very patient man, especially when it comes to you. It’s showing off every part of you that I adore admiring up close when it's just you and me. And you want to hide them when they should be memorialized in painting.”

Your eyes widen at his words, there’s never a moment where you don’t feel loved, admired or cherished by him. But the vocal reminders and firm words serve to bring you back to land when your thoughts feel like the ocean's tide trying to drag you down into its dark depths.

“You know I’m not a jealous man” he notes as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “But the idea of people seeing you in this dress, men getting ideas makes me want to take you right here right now. So you can leave some claw marks, to remind everyone that I belong to you.”

Your breath hitches at his words, knees almost buckling.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Me. All of me. Mind, body and soul, all that I am, is yours. And all of this” he says, hands tightening around your hips “is mine.” He says the last part in a deep growl.

He kisses you again, slow, claiming and reverent. The kind of kiss that doesn’t make your knees weak, it’s the type of kiss that makes you feel whole. It reminds you that you are the most precious person in his life, he can’t deny his addiction. Your lips are his personal heaven.

You’re his personal goddess dressed in red, dressed in sin.

“Okay” you whisper against his lips “I believe you. Thank you, my love”

“You do not have to thank me, my treasure. I only speak the truth. Now, are you still up to attend the banquet or would you prefer if we stayed in tonight?” And like always, he will follow your lead. Give you the choice to pick whatever makes you most comfortable. He’s never one to push you into something uncomfortable, well there have been some exceptions. The few times he's pushed you has only been when he knows, he's certain you could do something but you doubted yourself. And even then he's not harsh, he's encouraging.

“Let’s go.” and with that you two are off to the auction.

As the black car glided through the N109 Zone to your final destination you kept sneaking glances over at Sylus. Low lights making his features look even sharper than usual. His hand hasn’t moved an inch since he got in the car, splayed over your thigh. Rubbing slow circles absentmindedly during conversation.

An hour and some odd minutes later you both arrive to where the banquet is being held. Gilded doors covered in thin white flowing curtains sway against the wind. Your eyes widen for a second. This place looks like it came out of a story book, enormous flower arrangements decorate the short staircase leading up the tall doors.

But not even these big extravagant decorations could mask the intentions or wrong doings the people inside have done. Synyster conversations and deals are taking place just a few steps ahead. But you can’t deny it's pretty, in a kids villain movie kind of way. Like they are trying to cover up who they really are, using their wealth.

You hadn’t even noticed your lover had gotten out of the car to open your door. Before your silver haired lover could ask what you were thinking of you blurt out “This is so much, it just comes off as tacky” as you grab Sylus’s hand to get out.

“Well sweetie, money can’t buy taste” he answers with one of his genuine smiles reserved just for you. Kissing your hand he offers you his arm “Shall we?”

Linking your arms together you make your way up, looking at the stairs, taking every little detail into consideration.

The moment you’re inside you feel everyone's eyes make their way to where the both of you stood. Your dress clinging on you like a silk fire matched with a pair of heels that Sylus had practically begged you to wear. He wore a black suit, no tie, his first three buttons unfastened. And a silver necklace that adorned your initial.

Men looked and women stared. Some with admiration others and others with thinly veiled envy. The whispers were immediate, soft but unmistakable. Wherever Sylus goes, his presence is thunderous, no words needed to be spoken.

“He’s actually here?”

“Who’s that with him?”

“Are they together?”

You feel his hand wrap around your waist, pulling you close, anchoring you to his side, like you were a part of him. “Eyes up, sweetheart” he whispers against your temple. “You’re stealing every soul in the room tonight.”

You feel your cheeks start to warm. No matter when or where, Syus will always be open with you. He has no shame letting others know who his woman is. Who this so-called heartless monster goes to every night and day. Hands covered in sins and blood become gentle when handling her. He has a home, and it's not a place, it's a person. And he has no qualms letting it be known. Everyone knows better than to come and test what his capabilities are.

Stepping deeper into the ballroom, the crowd parts.

Not for Sylus, but for you.

You felt every glance, heads turning your way. The red silk sways with every step you take, clinging on to your curves, every sway of your hips look like a temptation to Sylus. A sudden feeling of empowerment courses through you. You feel his hand tightened where it rests.

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t insecure.

You could sense a subtle shift in him and see a protective gleam in his eyes. The way he was looking at everyone as if they were at the verge of crossing a line they didn't even know existed.

Reaching a table, he pulls a chair out for you. Sitting down, your thighs look fuller. While you try to pull your dress’s slit to cover up a little more, Sylus hand land on yours to stop you. Still sensing him on edge while trying to comfort you, you decide to tease him a little.

“Sooo” you drawl “are you okay?” you ask with a teasing lilt to your voice. Resting your hand now on his still splayed over your thigh.

His mouth twitches “Oh, I’m fine, kitten. Why do you ask?”

“Oh it's nothing, handsome. Just thought I saw something.”

Rising his eyebrow you see a soft pink hue dust his cheeks but he recovered swiftly “Well no use in hiding” he gently shrugs his shoulders. The silvered haired man removes his hand from your thigh and rests it on the underside of your chair, and pulls it towards him. So there's no space between you two now. The screeching of the chair ears a few head turns, looking where the sound came from. But upon seeing Sylus they immediately changed directions and resumed what they were doing previously.

“Sylus what the actual fuck” you say between clenched teeth.

All he offers is a quiet hum, lips brushing against your ear. His voice dropped to that low sultry, hungry tone that makes your knees weak.

“I don’t appreciate the way people were looking at you. Like you are a piece of meat.” his hand makes its way back to your exposed thigh. “I want to gauge their eyes out for staring, I can see their desires, sweetie. They see the body, the dress that I want to rip off of you.” He slowly runs his hand up, long fingers teetering at the verge to go under the silk fabric.

Your heart starts to beat faster against your chest, a chill running down your spine at his honesty. There’s a small part of you that knows you should reprimand him for what he's saying and doing.

“Sy–” he stops you with a kiss to the apple of your cheek.

“Sh, I’m not done speaking. I adore seeing the goddess who owns me know her worth. And others see it and that does things to me. And I want to show them all.”

“Sh-show them what?”

“That I belong to you” he says, fingers dangerously close to your aching core. “That you can lay me bare with a word. Everything I am, bends to your touch.”

He sees you biting your lip, trying to hold back a moan. He removes his hand and leaves a kiss on your exposed shoulder.

“Don’t worry though. I will behave and play nice,” a sudden pause “unless someone looks at you too long, then all bets are off.”

You laugh, squirming a little in your seat. He doesn’t miss it. Knowing exactly what his voice does to you. As a serve passes by Sylus signals him for two glasses. While you’re still calming down, your need for him growing, he hands you a glass.

“To being yours, kitten” he says, raising his glass.

“To being mine and me being yours” you clink his glass.

And at that he smiled, making his sharp features soften. His whole presence now feels like a warm flame rather than a wildfire. There was nothing he reveled in more than being called yours. And even as the party swirled around you both, voices and music rising, none of it touched the cocoon you two have made.

You are his world and he is yours.

Now back at the base, as the doors fall shut behind you the quiet settles in. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Sylus is immediately behind you, hands caressing your sides.

“Candelabras, marble stairs and floors, the flowers outside, red tasked rugs? Not to mention the moments that the live band played ominous music. I thought you secretly dragged me to a vampire wedding. How did it all look so expensive yet still…cheap?”

A gentle chuckle slips from his lips. Unguarded and tender.

”Kitten—“

“No, no, it’s truly a talent. I’m kind of impressed.”

“Money doesn’t buy taste, sweetie.”

You try to get out of his grasp to start removing your shoes but he doesn’t let you move.

“I told you to be more greedy with me. Use me.” He speaks against your neck, breathing you in.

A breathless call of his name “Sylus, I can take off my own shoes.”

“Mmm, but why? I’m right here to command.”

He knows how to use his voice and what exact words to use to make you give in to him without a fight. And why should you? There’s nothing that makes him happier than being of use to you. Even if it’s something as simple as removing your shoes for you. Patting the side of his head you motion him to go ahead. Moving to stand in front of you, he looks at you with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Intertwining your fingers together he makes his way to the couch and gently nudges you to sit down. Kneeling in front of you he gently undoes the straps of your heels; massaging your ankles.

“What’s on your mind, kitten? Something is bothering you, you know I’m not one to pry. But” he kisses your ankle “I’m here if you want to talk.”

It sometimes scared you how easily he can read you. How easy it is for him to know what you’re thinking or feeling. Without you having to voice your grievances. And best of all is how he waits, patiently, giving you the space you need to make sure you’re ready. Offering words of encouragement when needed or just being there to hear you vent. As your relationship grew stronger you no longer tried to hide things from him.

You sigh, unsure on how to explain the ache blooming in your chest. Because you’re not even sure on what you saw. “It’s just—“ you groan dragging your hands down your face. “I saw people sneaking glances at us you know? And I just know they couldn’t believe you were there with someone like me.”

He went still. Placing your feet on the floor and standing up. Caging you to the couch with his body.

One hand rested beside your head and the other cradles your face softly between his fingers.

”Do not do that. Don’t ever compare yourself to some warped idea of what beauty should be.”

You try to look away, the smoldering look in his eyes and his raw honesty feeling a bit overwhelming. But he softly moves your face, so your eyes meet his again.

“Because you are the most breathtaking woman in any and every room you walk in to. Tonight I saw you confident, radiant and mine. And I watched people realize they were looking at someone unforgettable.”

You swallow hard, throat feeling tight.

“I saw envy. I saw disbelief” he added “but not because they thought you weren’t good enough for me. That’s absurd, sweetie. It was because they know I don’t deserve you. Because they see this big bad man who somehow gets to worship the feet of a woman who could bring syndicates down if she’s bored. A woman who can bring me down to my knees, and I’d thank her. And they can’t understand how.”

Making you lie down on your back, settles on top of you.

“Your body is a masterpiece, every curve, every mark.” he starts trailing kisses down your neck, until he reaches your chest. “Every inch you try to cover up, I want to memorize with my mouth.”

Your breath hitches as his lips brushes lower; to where your breasts threaten to spill out.

“I don’t want perfection. I want you. The real you.” He splays his hand over your breast, squeezing over the silk covering you. It does nothing to hide the warmth of his palm. His fingers pull the hem down just enough to have even more skin ready for his needy lips. “The version that laughs too loudly. That snorts when you’re laughing carefree.” Sylus pins you even further into the couch with his chest. “That wears oversized hoodies and still makes my blood run hot.”

His presence is all consuming. Flooding every one of your senses. He is all that you see, feel, smell and hear; Sylus, your devoted lover.

Tangling your hand in his soft silver hair, he pulls back. Your eyes burn with the weight of unshed tears.

“I want to spend my life reminding you how Devine you are.” He says softly. “So let me.”

You don’t respond with words. Pulling him down towards you so your lips can meet. He kisses you back like he was starving. Like he was a drowning man and you were the oxygen he needed to live. Picking you up he makes the venture to your shared bedroom. Not breaking the kiss one second. As if it would physically pain him to do so.

Sitting you at the edge of the bed, he noses along your jaw. Taking in your scent, the one that makes him truly feel alive because you are there with him.

“Say it.” His voice a shattered whisper.

”Say what?” You asked a bit confused.

“That you’re mine. That you’ll let me prove it.” His tone sounds desperate.

And just like that the word “yours” leaves you on a breath that sounds foreign to your own ears.

A low groan escapes Sylus, deep from within his chest.

“Stand up for me, my love”

When you do, he’s still looking into your eyes. His hand rests on your back where your zipper starts.

“Can I?” he asks, not moving an inch more before you give him your answer. When you nod your head as a yes, his other hand comes to cup your face. “I need a verbal answer, my sweet girl” he says as he leaves a kiss on your forehead.

”You can take it off, Sylus.”

“Thank you.” he whispers and he means it. The full trust you have in him in your most vulnerable state is something he treasures and values.

Red silk pools at your ankles, his gaze never straying from your face.

“You are my favorite thing to look at” he murmurs kissing down your body “and I’ll never let you forget it.”

He sinks to his knees, not because you asked, not because it was expected. Worship is just his instinct when it comes to you.

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Remember you are loved and appreciated. Second part will be coming. There was more I wanted to add but decided to just make a second part lol

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY WORK.

[starryjake]

comfort | w.y & b.e

in which your best friends find a way to make you feel better after your breakup.

pairing: best friend!nicholas x fem!reader x best friend!euijoo

includes: threesome obviously, MXM CONTENT SO DONT READ IF UNCOMFORTABLE (they just make out), oral sex ( f and m receiving), cum eating, unprotected intercourse, nipple play, cumming inside, (lmk if i forgot anything!).

-

“i’m really worried about her,” ej said to nicholas, the two of them standing outside your apartment.

ej was carrying a bouquet of flowers and nicholas had a box of pizza and a bottle of wine. they’d knocked on your door a minute ago, but you still haven’t come to answer it.

“she doesn’t see it now, but it’s for the better,” nicholas said. “that guy was an asshole.”

“i know,” ej agreed. “i don’t understand how anyone could cheat on her. she’s so—”

the lock clicked on the other side of the door, so ej shut himself up before you could open it to find them talking about you.

“there she is,” nicholas said warmly. “how are you?”

“never better,” you lied, stepping to the side so they could come in. “you guys didn’t have to do all this.”

“we wanted to,” ej responded, handing the flowers to you as he walked in.

“this is really sweet,” you said with a sigh, bringing the floral arrangement up to your nose and inhaling their fresh scent.

“i brought wine,” nicholas said from the kitchen, rummaging through your cabinets for glasses. “figured that could come in handy.”

“that sounds perfect,” you said.

within a few minutes, the three of you were gathered in your living room, each holding a glass of wine. ej and nicholas graciously sat there and listened to you rant.

“i just can’t believe he would do this to me,” you gushed, your eyes watering. you stared down into your glass of wine, continuing. “was our entire relationship a joke to him? was i just a joke?”

“of course not,” nicholas said.

“he’s an idiot for doing that to you,” ej insisted, scooting over to sit closer to you. he placed a hand on your thigh and said, “no one in there right mind would cheat on you if they had you. he was crazy.”

his words meant a lot to you. for weeks now, you had been heartbroken thinking about your failed relationship. you’d cancelled on all your friends, not just nicholas and ej, unable to find it in you to hang out with anyone. but now that they were there, you were beyond glad.

“it just sucks,” you mumbled, quickly dabbing at your watery eyes.

nicholas came and sat on the other side of you, taking the liberty to brush some of your hair out of your face. he then rubbed your back soothingly.

“i know,” he cooed. “is there anything we can do to make it better? anything at all?”

you sniffled, pondering the question.

“you could beat him up,” you joked. nicholas and ej exchanged serious glances with each other. “guys, i was kidding.”

“we’d do it, though,” ej said, his thumb gliding back and forth on your thigh. “anything you need, y/n, you name it and we’ve got you.”

you smiled softly, grateful that you had friends as good as them. friends who were willing to beat up the guy who’d put you through hell, just to make you feel better.

“thank you guys,” you said, your voice soft.

both of them were right there beside you, both their hands on your body in some way, both staring at you like they could see your soul. you were intimidated, despite having known them both for years and trusting them with your life.

you looked over at ej, finding comfort in the way his big brown eyes looked you over protectively. then over at nicholas, who’s sharp eyes were dark and serious, ready to make things right for you however he had to.

you suddenly had a weird feeling in your stomach. heat was spreading throughout your body, and you had to push your thighs together to ease some of the tension that was building.

why the hell were you feeling…turned on? over your two best friends of all people?

you sighed, then said, “i must’ve had too much wine.”

they both glanced over at your glass. you’d only really had about two sips. you couldn’t blame the way you were feeling on the alcohol.

“why do you say that?” nicholas wondered.

“‘cause i feel…”you trailed off, unsure if you should be telling them that you suddenly felt turned on. “weird.”

“weird how?” ej asked.

“i don’t know, i…”

you trailed off again, overcome with embarrassment. they both knew how you were feeling. it wasn’t hard to tell based on the way you were so obviously squeezing your thighs together. but they wanted to hear you say it.

“what is it?” nicholas urged. “do you feel okay?”

“yeah, i feel okay,” you assured. “i don’t know. you guys probably don’t wanna hear about it.”

“hey, we’re here for you,” ej cooed, squeezing your thigh slightly. “we’re your best friends. you can tell us anything.”

you looked over at nicholas, and he smiled reassuringly, which gave you the strength to admit your current predicament.

“i just kinda got…turned on,” you finally admitted.

a silence dwelled in your living room.

you immediately brought your knees up to your chest, knocking both their hands off of you, and hid your face in your hands.

“sorry,” you groaned, hiding from them as best as you could. “i don’t know. i’m a mess. i shouldn’t have said that.”

“hey,” ej said, his hand coming firmly to your back. “look at me.”

you shook your head, too mortified to let them see your face. still, ej pushed your hands out of the way, revealing your blushing face to both him and nicholas.

what you weren’t expecting was ej to smile sweetly at you before leaning in and kissing you. his hands came up to cradle your face, and you immediately melted into the kiss, sighing into his mouth.

you were already starting to sweat from how turned on you were. you brought your hands up to his neck and brought one of them into his hair, tugging softly on the dark strands.

you both mutually pulled away from each other a moment later, staring at each other in shock. that was when you remembered nicholas was still sitting right there next to you.

his face was serious as ever, but you could see the hint of a smirk creeping up. you could also see an evident erection in his sweatpants from watching you and ej make out.

“do you wanna do this?” he asked.

“do what?” you wondered.

“do you want us to make you feel better?” ej intervened.

you gulped. you barely hesitated before nodding your head.

“use your words, baby,” nicholas instructed.

“yes,” you answered confidently. “i want to feel better.”

nicholas and ej smirked to each other, then started to stand up.

“let’s go to your room,” ej suggested.

so, the three of you ditched the wine and the pizza and made your way to your bedroom. it was a short walk to get there, just down the hall, but the entire time you were in your head, questioning if you were really about to have a threesome with your two best friends.

the answer, though, was yes. you sure were.

once the three of you were in your bedroom, clothing started flying off. first was nicholas’ shirt, then yours, then ej’s.

you got on your bed and lay on your back, waiting for the men to join you on either side.

“c’mere, baby,” nicholas said, kneeling by your side.

you sat up on your knees to be more level with him and he pushed his lips against yours. his kiss was harder than ej’s, rougher and messier. you could practically feel yourself dripping in your shorts.

you entangled your fingers in his hair, trying to match his pace.

behind you, ej joined the two of you on the bed. he took the liberty to unhook your bra for you, sliding it down your arms and off your body. nicholas had to pull back then to get a good look at you.

“fuck,” he grunted. “you’re so pretty, baby.”

you blushed, crossing your arms over your chest as a wave of embarrassment washed over you. you were completely shirtless in front of ej and nicholas, and that was terrifying.

“don’t be embarrassed,” ej cooed, softly guiding your hands away from your chest. “you’re perfect.”

he kissed you again, bringing his hand up to one of your tits and squeezing it. you gasped into his mouth as he rubbed his fingers over your erect nipple expertly.

while you were kissing him, nicholas stripped himself of his pants and underwear, leaving him completely bare. his cock was so hard that it stood completely straight up, hitting his lower abdomen.

he wrapped his hand around his thick length and watched you and ej make out for a moment, staring shamelessly.

when you finally pulled away and noticed what nicholas was doing, you wanted to help. you crawled over to him, slowly pushing his hand out of the way and replacing it with your own.

nicholas leaned back on his palms and watched you stroke his length, biting his lip to hold back any noises.

ej took that moment to rid himself of the rest of his clothes, then helped you fully undress the rest of the way while you stroked nicholas.

once all three of you were fully naked, nicholas stopped your hand from jerking him off any further. he guided you to lay flat on your back, and all you could do was watch and see what they were going to do next.

both of them moving at the same time was overwhelming. you didn’t know who to focus on. you had to focus on both of them at the same time somehow.

ej positioned himself with his face between your legs while nicholas kneeled at the side of your head. he rubbed his leaking tip on your lips, guiding his cock into your mouth.

meanwhile, ej leaned in and placed a soft kiss to your clit, stroking your thigh. he licked a stripe up your pussy, tasting your arousal and moaning. you were perfect, he thought. you tasted perfect and your pussy felt so good against the tip of his tongue.

he tilted his head to the side, flicking his tongue up and down your folds. you writhed, gasping and huffing while jutting your hips up against his face.

at the same time, you had to manage sucking nicholas off. he wasn’t being too difficult about it. he let you just lick along his length and suck on his tip. the night was about you after all. he didn’t expect you to deep throat him, not right away anyway.

you could feel ej’s finger as it slid inside your fluttering hole, and you took it with ease. you gasped at the sensation, clenching around the finger and tilting your head back.

“does it feel good?” nicholas asked you, his voice deeper than normal. “is he eating your pussy good?

“yes,” you cried out, looking up at him with glistening eyes. “feels so fucking good.”

ej hummed against your pussy, which made you look down to watch him. he seemed like he was truly content there between your legs, licking and fingering you like it was his job.

he looked so pretty down there too. strands of hair were falling into his face, his cheeks a soft shade of pink and his lips were swollen and glistening with your wetness.

it was hard to concentrate on getting eaten out at the same time as sucking off nicholas. you tried, but ultimately, he had to do most of the work, thrusting his thick length in and out of your throat.

“that’s it, baby,” he cooed, pushing some hair out of your face. “doing so good.”

you were moaning around his cock, vibrating it and making nicholas want to thrust into your mouth even harder. he’d always thought you were pretty, but he thought you might’ve been even prettier when his dick was down your throat.

the way ej was licking you up and down in long, fluid strokes, and back and forth, and in circles was all too much. he was too good, and you were so sensitive. you just couldn’t last.

“euijoo,” you practically whimpered. “i’m gonna cum.”

he moaned into your pussy, squeezing your thighs, like he was wordlessly giving you permission to let go. and let go you did.

you had to pull off nicholas’s length as it hit you, too overwhelmed to focus on anything but the orgasm washing over you. you gripped ej’s hair, nearly sobbing as you came all over his tongue.

“fuck,” ej nearly growled. “so hot, baby. she tastes so good.”

nicholas raised his eyebrow.

“yeah?” he said.

a silence fell upon the three of you then. nicholas and ej blinked at each other. it seemed as though you were all thinking something.

you, personally, were slightly nervous to speak your mind. you didn’t want to make them uncomfortable or ruin anything, but you decided to speak up anyway.

“you wanna taste me?” you asked nicholas, who directed his attention back to you then. “you guys should make out. you’ll be able to taste me on him.”

ej and nicholas briefly met each others gaze. you couldn’t read their expressions, so you were unsure whether they were on board with the idea or not. you just hoped you didn’t make them uncomfortable.

“you want us to make out?” ej asked, slowly sitting up on his knees.

“well,” you stammered, nervous. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to. it was just an idea.”

ej smiled down at you before looking back over at nicholas. the corners of nicholas’ lips raised ever so slightly, and you just knew that he was into it.

with both of them on either side of you, they attached their lips together, clearly putting on a show just for you. you sat yourself up slightly, watching in awe without sparing a single blink.

the way they were kissing, so fluidly and in sync, made you question if they’d done it before. the way their hands found their way into each other’s hair felt rehearsed.

the idea turned you on. them kissing right in front of you turned you on. all you could do was watch your two best friends as their kiss turned messier by the second, their tongues both coming into play.

“mmm,” nicholas moaned against ej’s mouth. “she does taste good.”

they pulled back from each other after another minute, looking down at you to see your reaction. you were still just staring at them in awe, wishing you could get between them even more so than you already were.

“c’mere,” ej commanded.

you sat up on your knees like them. ej grabbed your waist and held you flush against his chest before kissing you. nicholas, from behind you, brought his hand down to your pussy and started rubbing you.

you were still sensitive from cumming, your knees buckling slightly. nicholas held you up with his arm around your waist, kissing the back of your neck.

you dug your fingers through ej’s fluffy hair and tugged on it, moaning into his mouth as nicholas massaged your pussy, your pussy that was just aching to be filled by one of them, or better yet, both.

eventually, nicholas grabbed you by the waist and pulled you from ej, laying you down on your back. the two men, both so much taller than you, knelt by your side. you were intimidated and even nervous, but way more excited for finding out what their next plan with you was.

“there’s so much i wanna do with you,” nicholas said, his eyes dark as he scanned your body. “i don’t even know where to start.”

“i’ll give you an idea,” you responded, looking up at him with big eyes. “i need one of you inside me.”

nicholas and ej met each others eyes again, like they were able to communicate telepathically. you want to be let in, to know what they were thinking.

suddenly, nicholas was spreading your legs wide enough to make room to fit himself between them.

“want my dick, baby? is that what you want?” he asked you, stroking your inner thigh, which was shaking ever so slightly. “want me to fuck you?”

“god, nicho,” you cried. “please, i need it so bad. it hurts.”

“it hurts?” said ej, who was at your side. he caressed your face, pushing strands of your hair out of the way. “we’re gonna make it feel better for you, baby. don’t worry.”

you looked up at ej with big eyes. he brought his hand down to your chin, then slid his thumb into your mouth. you sucked on it, swirling your tongue around it.

it was then that nicholas lined the tip of his swollen cock up with your pussy, and started pushing in.

you clenched your eyes shut, moaning around ej’s finger. ej watched nicholas enter you, pushing himself further and further into your pussy until he couldn’t go anymore.

“fuck,” nicholas shuddered. “oh my god. you’re so warm, baby. so fucking wet and tight.”

ej twitched, wishing he was inside you instead. but he knew his chance would come. he just had to be patient.

he pulled his thumb out of your mouth, letting your moans freely come tumbling past your lips.

“nicho,” you moaned.

“what is it?” he asked. “what do you need, sweet girl?”

“need you to move,” you told him. “please.”

he was quick to listen, pulling his hips back until half of his cock was out of you. then, he pushed back in, feeling you convulse and grip him like your life depended on it.

his pace fastened with each thrust. ej, who could only sit there and watch, brought a hand down to his clothed bulge. he gave himself a squeeze, sighing at the sensation. it wasn’t enough, not even close.

“come here,” you urged, reaching out for him.

he leaned down and you brought your lips together. he sighed into your mouth, bringing his hand up to tweak your nipple and rub it in circles with the tip of his finger.

you couldn’t believe how good you were feeling. you had two of your best friends right next to you, making you feel better than you’ve ever felt before. making you forget all about your shitty ex-boyfriend.

nicholas gripped your thighs and pushed them up to your chest, giving himself more room to thrust harder, and putting you at an angle where his cock hit the deepest part of you, making you see stars.

“fuck!” you yelled out, forced to detach from ej’s lips. “oh my—fuck, it feels so good.”

ej opted to occupy his lips around your nipple instead, sucking on the hard bud and massaging the other one. all you could do was lay there and take it, letting your best friends pleasure you.

“so good,” nicholas growled, losing his mind every time you clenched around him. “can’t believe how good you are, baby.”

you could feel your high approaching in the base of your stomach, like a wave at its peak. then, it all came crashing down.

you couldn’t even warn him as you started to cum around his cock. you just threw your head back and choked out a sob, tugging ej’s hair as nicholas fucked you through it.

“that’s it, baby,” ej cooed, watching you cum closely. “so fucking pretty when you cum.”

nicholas was staring: at your face, at your tits, at your pussy squeezing desperately around his cock. before he knew it, he was pulling out and jerking himself off to completion.

his load drenched your stomach, but you loved it. it was warm and sticky and all over you.

before you knew it, ej was dragging his fingers through his best friend’s puddle, and bringing his release up to your lips. you happily wrapped your lips around his fingers, sucking nicholas’s cum off ej’s fingers.

“holy shit,” nicholas muttered in awe at the sight in front of him.

once you’d gotten every last drop, ej pulled his fingers from your mouth. the three of you took a second to rest, to catch your breath and calm down.

but it didn’t last long. ej was still bursting through his pants, utterly desperate to get a feel of you.

but of course, he was too sweet and too shy to say anything. all he could do was lay there and watch you, hoping you’d take the hint.

luckily for him, you did.

you moved to straddle ej’s bare lap. he instinctively brought his hands to your waist, watching without a blink as you gripped his cock and lined the tip up with your soaked entrance.

his cock was thinner than nicholas’s, but longer, whereas nicholas was shorter, but the girth filled you up with everything you’d ever needed.

having already been stretched out by nicholas, it was easy to sink down on ej’s cock. but it just kept going. he was so long that he kept filling you, so deep that it felt like he was in your stomach.

“oh my god,” you whispered, planting your hands on his abs. “it’s so deep.”

“yeah?” nicholas joined. “you feel him nice and deep in there?”

“yeah,” you whispered, looking down at ej underneath you.

he was looking back up at your in awe, his nails digging into your hips.

“fuck,” he moaned. “you’re so perfect.”

you couldn’t go any longer without moving, so you raised yourself up slightly on your knees before sinking back down on him, feeling every inch of him fill you up.

you couldn’t go as fast and hard as you would’ve liked, too tired from having cum twice already, but it was a nice change of pace. it was nice to get to fuck ej slow and deep, to really feel all of him.

eventually, he started raising his hips, fucking up into you to help you. it was perfect, and you couldn’t stop yourself from dragging out long moans and whimpers of ej’s name.

he found your hand and held it, squeezing it every now and then again when he hit that spot inside of you.

your bodies lazily melded together, a fluid motion. ej looked utterly delicious under you, red cheeks and swollen lips and messy hair.

and it seemed that nicholas had been thinking the same thing, as he suddenly leaned down and connected his lips to ej’s once again.

“fuck,” you whispered, watching ej’s eyes close and immediately melt into the kiss.

their kiss was hungrier than the first one, more urgent. nicholas held the side of ej’s face, digging his painted fingernails into his hair. ej moaned into his mouth, parting his lips slightly to allow nicholas’s tongue.

you could feel yourself getting closer and closer watching them make out, heat pooling in your stomach.

nicholas trailed his hand to ej’s neck and down his abdomen, scraping his nails along his abs, which caused ej to shudder. he gripped nicholas’s hair, their tongue intertwined.

at that point, you were fully convinced that they’d done this before today.

nicholas pulled apart first, turning his neck to look over around his shoulder at you. he smirked at the shock and desperation on your face.

“look at her,” he snickered. “you close, baby?”

all you could do was nod your head rapidly, too far gone to even think about speaking.

“what about you?” nicholas asked, turning his attention back to ej. “are you gonna cum?”

“y-yeah,” ej sputtered. “fuck, i’m so close. oh my god.”

nicholas watched with eagerness. both of you were about to cum and he was going to get to witness it.

you were barely moving anymore, but just sitting on top of ej while he humped his hips up into you. somehow, that was just enough to push you over the edge.

“ej!” you yelped. “‘m cumming.”

ej watched you fall onto his chest, clenching around him so tight he could barely move. he held you close, quickening his pace until he, too, finally was pushed over the edge.

his entire body tensed as he dumped his load deep inside you, balls tightening as he let go. his grip on you was tight, and you only knew he was finished when he finally loosened his arms around you.

you rolled off of him, the three of you laying side by side in your bed. you were all drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted.

then as you looked to your left, then your right, the realization caught up to you. you just slept with your two best friends. at the same time.

what the hell were you supposed to do now?

-

a/n: ok so what if i wrote this to help myself cope with a breakup im going through??? SO WHAT!!!!

[yellowf1nch]

Warning: Minors do not interact

**There will be potential spoilers from this point forward regarding endings with certain characters. There may have been some in the last part, however I think it was still vague enough. I have certain characters I want to explore in this dynamic with specificity to their storylines, so consider this a warning if you do not wish to have anything revealed to you prematurely.**

(Part 3 of the problematic roommate storyline)

You awake in stillness. Quiet. There's a fatigue in your body, and a thrumming pain across your face that becomes more apparent as you pull further from sleep. You roll yourself upwards, head heavy and balance askew even while sitting. Memories flood back, at first it seemed all a terrible dream, but the reflection that greets you above your dresser reminds you just how real everything is. Your stomach growls, so you make your way to the top of the stairs, but hesitate descending when you hear your roommate down there now. Will they attack you again? Do you even have the fortitude to listen if they want to talk?

Thoughts swim around your head, and time apparently passes quicker than you think. You hear your roommate move towards the foyer, and into the gym. The Cross Trainer kicks on, so you take this as your chance to eat. As you round the stairs, you hear a clink from the floor grate beside you, the one Skylar sits inside. Debating once again, if your exhaustion would put you up to the task of using the dateviators, you hear the bathroom door just ahead click open, and see if fall slightly open. Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to have Farya give you a once over.

You quietly reach down, arm entering the vent and feeling around until your fingers brush metal wire and plastic lenses. You retrieve the dateviators, waiting until you enter the bathroom and making sure you are locked inside before putting them on. Immediately, Skylar, Farya, and Amir come forward. They all talk at once, over each other, asking how you feel, noting how you look, about what happened. You start to take the glasses off, overwhelmed, when they all shout in unison, "NO."

"You might be concussed," Farya says, a slight grin on her face, if an unsteady one. "I need to make certain there are no broken bones, damaged nerves... Don't even get me started on hemorrhaging..." She begins to talk more to herself as you sit on Jean-Loo, cleaning you up, testing nerve responses, and even needing to administer some stitches. Amir had left before much of this, apparently a bit squeamish despite wanting to help. Skylar remained. She held your hand to squeeze, though she, too, seemed to wince and avoid looking at you for much of the time Farya worked.

"Maybe you should call in the police," she says, "this... isn't really within anyone's wheelhouse to put up with." Farya finishes up, then takes her leave. You look at Skylar, your voice scratchy and low as you tell her you're afraid. You're afraid of what might happen, mostly to the dateables, to the dateviators. If something goes wrong, the objects could get hurt. She sighs, and crouches at your feet.

"But you're already hurt. Don't worry about us. Besides, if the authorities can get your roommate out of the picture, then that's better for all of us, right?" You admit that your gut is far more hesitant, but maybe it would be for the best. The sooner you call, the more concrete the report will be. Though, you still aren't sure if anything would actually come of it. And if your roommate tries to spin things against you... Skylar takes your hand, seeing how unsure you are. "Hey, it's okay to not feel sure. You've gone through a lot, and, if you aren't comfortable getting anyone involved, then you don't have to. But, you have our support, and whatever happens, you won't be alone." You nod, softly thanking her, before you reach up and remove the dateviators. Your stomach growls again, so you finish up in the bathroom, and make sure your roommate isn't waiting to ambush you as soon as you leave. It seems they've moved onto something else, and it sounds like they're on a personal phone call.

You don't want to spend too much time here, feeling exposed in the open kitchen, and you are certain you could only stomach a simple breakfast anyway. You make a bowl of cereal, eating in the stillness, pretending that everything is like it was before Skylar was delivered here. Then again, a part of you admits that it's... Nice. To have people to talk to, to meet, even. If it weren't for Valdivian's shelling out to the military, you might have considered trying for a degree to be the leading datable anthropologist. But, the dateviators have to be destroyed, and before that, every object has to be awakened and realized. Or, that's what Skylar has told you. And it feels to be a task insurmountable, especially with your roommate around. You finish eating and quickly wash your bowl and spoon, moving back up to your bedroom. The LED lights you have on flicker, a common occurrence since you moved in, and you recall the few times in the Breaker Box how Volt would wince when they did. In fact, you remember a very curt conversation with Eddy yesterday where he mentioned it's just maintenance he's working on while he pushed you out the door.

You make your way back to the box, mindful of your roommate moving around downstairs, and quietly open the closet. You close it behind you, hoping Dorian will understand to stay closed while you're here. You put the dateviators back on, wincing as they again sit on your injuries, and you activate them, opening the club and going inside. It's empty, but Eddy sits on the floor by the bar, seeming to be adjusting some of the legs of the barstools. He looks over when you enter, swearing under his breath.

"The hell do you want, bar's closed." You walk closer, still keeping some distance, mentioning the flickering lights again. Only this time, you make it clear you expect something to be done about it. Eddy rolls his eyes, but when he looks at you again, curses biting at the back of his teeth, he seems shocked as he notices the discolored patches mapping your face.

"How much do you have to do?" You ask, taking the opportunity while he was caught off-guard. At your question, he quickly recovers.

"A lot. Now if you don't mind, I'm busy." He looks back to what he was working on.

"I want to help," you say, no hesitation in your voice. Eddy looks back up at you, gives you a once over, and breathes a chuckle. "I'm serious. I'm not afraid of hard work." He meets your eyes, and looks back down at the stool in front of him, squaring his jaw.

"I said I'm busy."

You cross your arms, lips pursed despite their reluctance to do so. "And I said I want to help."

Eddy resumes his task, albeit with a poorly restrained frustration, "I don't care what you want."

"Well you're gonna care real soon, because if you won't let me help you, I'll have to either call an electrician or figure things out myself." Eddy's motions become even more agitated, but you continue, "Besides. You clearly have a lot on your plate to be having issues with the power flickering since I moved in, so an extra set of hands would only make things go quicker." In response, you hear exasperated curses of your name under his breath.

"You wanna call an electrician, then go ahead. You're just wasting my time!"

"I don't want to call an electrician, I want to help you!"

"I don't need your help!"

"I'm not convinced." Eddy growls at you, tossing the tool he was holding down and rubbing his face. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighs.

"You wanna help so bad? Fine. Come back tomorrow and you'll wish you never set foot in this club." You instinctively try to smile, but strain with your stitches and bruises. Eddy avoids your gaze, trying to wiggle the barstool leg he was working on, then stands and sets the stool upright. Eventually he does look at you, his expression falling flat, "Get out."

Nodding, you turn to leave, and when you exit the Breaker Box, you realize the closet door is still closed. You hear your roommate throwing things around downstairs, yelling to themselves about things never being fair, about how everything good that happens to them is taken away. You start to leave, but they seem to move up and down the stairs, back and forth between rooms. You wait for them to go back down, and swiftly move back to your bedroom, locking the door. Considering the last charge you have on the dateviators, you turn your aim to Dorian. When he appears, he's looking at you with an expression you hadn't seen before.

"How... How bad is it?" A brow raises at your question.

"If you are referring to the state of the household, I'd say it's as bad as it sounds. Wallace and I are both tough gents... let's just say it's not easy for either of us to get knocked into each other."

"Are you hurt? Do I need to-"

"You don't need to do anything, 'cept keep yourself from an early grave. We can all put up with a lot more than you think. There've been kids in this house before, family gatherings. None of us are going anywhere anytime soon."

You pause, thinking perhaps you have been too insistent. Maybe you have been too concerned. Maybe anxiety is getting the better of you.

"For what it's worth," Dorian begins, "respecting Skylar's choice, all 'a what you said last night... Makes me proud to be your friend." He smiles, "Just make sure you take care of yourself as much as you would the rest of us. Now," his face falls back to his usual stern expression, but there remains a dusting of pink at the corners of his eyes, "off to bed with you. And make sure to put Skylar up for the night."

As the dateviators lose their last charge for the day, you gently remove them, and tuck them away where your roommate couldn't reach without waking you. You adjust your pillows and blankets to keep your head from rolling too much overnight, and feel the calm embrace of sleep welcome you.

[gothicpaperback]

THE ART OF THE DEAL | PART FIVE

<<< PART FOUR: SIGNS OF INSTABILITY | PART SIX: COMING SOON >>>

wc: 3,1k | rating: 18+ for eventual smut | Harry Castillo x You | FALSE RELATIONSHIP

summary: you don’t believe in love. neither does he. that’s the only thing you agree on. after swearing off romance, you’ve built a quiet life in art preservation and avoiding anything resembling vulnerability. but when Harry Castillo, arrogant, infuriating, and stupidly rich, proposes you pretend to be his fiancée for the sake of getting his overbearing mother off his back, you’re thrown. but the money is good and with your detached views on romance and love, you make the perfect polished, commitment-free partner. It’s just a deal; cold, clean and temporary. but pretending to be in love with a man you can’t stand has a way of making you feel things you promised yourself you’d never feel again. especially when he starts looking at you like you're more than just a line item in a contract. And worst of all? You start looking back

the MC female character is YOU. she is not named and barely described physically aside from being able bodied and having hair long enough to grab.

tags/warnings: false relationship, mentions of materialists film spoilers, smut, enemies to lovers. i will add more tags as they become relevant.

taglist: @chasingthepoguelife | @tnsmara | @sarahhxx03 | @taehyungxjungkookistaekook | @bluenightmarepost | @kakiki3 | @pascal-mynightlyobsession | @immyowndefender | @dedicatedfangirl2001 | @dotyoureyez | @decadent-hag1 | @madmelz | @sarahhxx03 | @orcasoul | @papapappapapapa | @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 | @greenwitchfromthewoods | @insertclevernamehereplease | @titlee78 | @thedisagreeablegirl | @millersgirll | @brinapedroswife | @15christyxoxo |

THE ART OF THE DEAL | PART FIVE | AT RISK

You stick beside Harry the first few innings, drinking chilled wine as Mona and Adrian murmur about the players. Harry’s hand rests lightly on your knee; just enough for show, not enough for you to forget it's staged. 

Harry is sure to give you that grin, the one he’s practised in the mirror, the one that screams, “I’m so lucky to be marrying her!” even though last night he met a woman at the bar near his home and got her number. 

Harry is not delusional, he knows that you're both playing a part and he's fine with it. You're like a colleague of sorts, someone he can be real with, and someone with a goal. And it feels good to get female attention. It sews up the wounds of his twenties when he felt resentful and hideous in a body with a height that didn’t match how he felt outside.

You're seated between Harry and his mother in cozy leather recliner chairs feeling trapped. 

Ada and Adrian stand by the large windows, eyes trained on the game. Every so often you feel her eyes trail your way and you’re sure to be looking away when they land on you. Your back feels sweaty, your nerves on edge. Even though you're not saying anything you're continually wondering how you appear to everyone else. 

Mona leans over from her chair. “Soooooooo,” she says, drawing out the word like she already knows the answer, “How are wedding plans coming?”

You go wide-eyed and clumsily take a sip of wine to buy yourself time. Thankfully Harry jumps in immediately.

"We're not in a rush." 

Mona looks like she's about to reply when Lindor hits a double. You're grateful that the family is genuinely interested in the game. And now the room erupts into light applause and you think you hear Ada whistle, but you're not sure. 

When a belated Mason and Eleanor arrive, full of apologies you're thankful the attention is taken away from you and Harry who sit next to each stiffly. When his mother exits her chair to greet Mason, Harry removes his hand from your knee. You're thankful.  

When you're walking or chatting with his family it feels more natural to hold his arm or his hand.  The arm around your waist is still foreign as are the kisses he presses to your cheek and back of your hand between innings. 

You're thankful he showed up when he did with Ken though. He didn't need to, he gained nothing by it for him, and he was just being kind. 

"About time," Ada sniffs as Mason kisses her cheek in greeting. 

"Traffic was horrible."

"So I've been told." Ada looks at you before her ice flick through the window to the scene below. The game is heating up. 

“I meant to ask, where did you go before?" Harry murmurs from beside you.

"There's this souvenir shop not everyone knows about. Less touristy, more unique finds."

Harry frowns. "If you wanted something specific..."

"I got what I needed, thanks." 

You're not cold in your response, just guarded and Harry can sense it. He just can't understand it. 

You watch Mason and Eleanor covertly in the large leather sofa. His arm goes around her naturally and she snuggles up against him. 

It makes you realize what a real couple would be doing right now; sharing a soft pretzel, whispering dumb jokes, leaning in without thinking about who’s watching. Harry nudges you. You realize he asked you something.

“Huh?" 

"I asked if you wanted to sit outside the suite."

He's pointing to the chairs outside the suite doors on the private balcony. The ones high enough to let everyone know that you're made of money. You nod, following him out and nestle into the seat next to him.

"I was glad to see you're using the card," Harry mentions over a beer a short while later. "Quite the shopping spree."

"I'm returning most of i-"

You stop mid sentence to give a cheer as Lindor rounds the bases. You stand up, forgetting yourself and making a whooping sound. 

This isn't how his family acts in public and with a grimace Harry grips the back of your shirt, urging you back. You glance down to see his wince, looking over his head into the suite to see his family staring at you. You feel Ada's eyes scan your face, looking for the cracks.

Shit. 

You collapse into your seat, hunching slightly. 

"I didn't realize you were so enthusiastic," Harry murmurs,  his eyes on the game. 

You feel the sweat on your back drying, leaving behind that itchy, sticky feeling.You hate this. Not just the faking, but the way he always seems to think he's better than you. 

"That's because you don't actually know me, Castillo." 

Harry feels the ire rising from your body like a nuclear blast. Just as he's about to remind you that you're still on the clock the screen flashes.

KISS CAM.

You don’t notice at first, you're too busy trying to ignore Harry. But then the crowd below you starts hooting, and you glance up. There you are: Giant and on the centre screen.

You're eyes are wide, turned on Harry. His smile is frozen, practised and false. 

“We don't have to do this,” you mutter. "Right?"

“It'll look pretty weird if we don't,” he says between clenched teeth, already turning to you. “And according to you, I need the practice anyway.”

You can't help but laugh when he does as well, nodding after a moment's pause. What the hell, sure, why not. You have to pretend to be a couple; you knew this was part of the deal. He spins your baseball cap backwards by the brim as the crowd cheers. Your face is warm and Harry is amused by your sudden quiet.    

So she does get shy.

Harry plans on a peck; something simple and cute to appease the fans. But also enough that his ego might be salvaged. The last kiss was terrible. So dry and harsh and unsettling. You brace yourself for a similar experience. 

He's not expecting the buzz of something that hits him below the navel the second your lips connect.

Your hand goes to rest on his shoulder, his hand at the side of your neck. You hold your breath as his mouth moves over yours. You anticipate that he'll pull away immediately. But he doesn’t. Instead, his lips linger. Warm and firm and pressed just long enough that something shifts under your skin. You feel it in your spine first, this continual tension loosening in the muscles near your jaw.

His hand is still on your face, and it’s no longer stiff. It’s kind of… . gentle.

But then his other hand finds your waist. Not possessive or preformative. And the kiss deepens, just slightly a tilt of his head.

He notes the change in your breathing. His mouth parts, brushes yours again, slower this time, softer. He feels something unfurl inside him, unexpected and hot.

Fuck, this feels so good. You feel so good.

 He doesn't know you feel it too, doesn't know that your body is suddenly on fire from the inside. All he knows is that the fingers resting on his shoulder curl, pulling his T-shirt onto a fist as the kiss deepens.

You're confused that his mouth is making you feel prickles of heat everywhere, expanding when his arms move to snake further around your waist, pulling your chest against his, kissing you deeper. Then there’s the flick of his tongue, the briefest hint of impropriety.  

And he can hear the whimper you offer as his kiss turns more insistent, his eyes shut as he licks into your mouth. He tastes the sweetness of the wine on your tongue.  It's only when your arm goes to crook around his neck that the cheering crowd erupts into a fever pitch at the sight.  

You break away first at the uproar, blinking rapidly. His eyes search your face like he’s trying to decode something. You feel breathless and exposed, like you just said something intimate without speaking at all.

You turn your hat the right way around before pulling the brim low over your face, embarrassed when the crowd below starts to whistle and cheer. 

You hope that the humiliation is over but when you glance at the screen, the kiss is playing on a loop. Lovebirds is written in just script with a cartoon dove making a heart trail around your pixellated figures. 

Harry watches this too, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. You can't help but observe the way you cling to one another, the way Harry's eyes flutter shut and the slight slip of his tongue along yours. It's hot. 

You meet eyes and out of nowhere the two of you collapse into laughter, grinning like idiots as you watch yourselves on the big screen. The whole thing is so preposterous. 

"I can't believe we just did that," Harry chuckles, his hand on your knee again. 

"I know! I just-"

"Honestly Harrison. So low brow."

Ada has come to ruin the fun, not that anyone is surprised at this point. She stands by the railing, her posture straight, hands clasped behind her back. Her silver hair is neatly coiffed; her gaze sweeps the field, then lands on you.

And just like that, you’re back in the performance.

"Harrison," Ada whispers, "leave us a moment." 

Harry eyes his grandmother warily before standing. He shoots you a look before walking past, back into the suite to join the rest of the family. 

This leaves you and Ada alone, the crack of the bat echoing as the crowd roars. 

“Enjoying the game?”  Her voice is calm and enunciated, as though each word is chosen with care. 

You offer a polite nod. “Very much. Thank you for the invitation.”

Despite her advanced age and her bowed posture, she continues to stand, her eyes boring holes into your forehead. 

“It’s important, you understand, that you carry yourself with refinement if you're to be a part of the Castillo family." 

You don't answer her immediately. Instead, you study her expression: the faint narrowing of her eyes. You grasp the unspoken expectations of this household. You're thankful that your engagement is a sham. You'd never let anyone actually talk to you like this in your real life. 

Satisfied with your lack of response she continues.  "Your engagement to Harrison came as quite a shock to me.'"

"Oh?"

 There’s no warmth here only relentless expectation "Why it was only a few months ago he was asking for the family ring, citing that he'd found the perfect wife."

"Oh right, Lucy."

"Yes. Lucy." She sniffs. "An opportunist to the core, that one." 

You shift in the seat. You never met Lucy so you don't know if her assessment is correct. But still it feels disingenuous to insult a woman you've never even interacted with. She inclines her head slightly, but the corners of her mouth don’t soften. 

“Any member of the Castillo family must enhance its standing,” she inclines her chin at you, “You understand how that works socially and publicly. With your job you know the inner workings of social expectations.” 

How does she know about your job?  "How did-"

"Let's not be naive," she says as she drops her voice. "I know people. And I learned what I needed to about you. Intelligent, well liked, divorced." 

Her words hang in the air. She hums to herself, eyes on the field to watch Juan Soto step up to bat. For a minute you wonder if she just needs to watch the rest of the game standing beside your chair, you decide that you could probably handle that, but you still wish Harry was here to act as a buffer. 

But your dreams of a peaceful and quiet existence are easily shattered when she moves her eyes back on you. 

"If you're with my grandson just for the money you'll be disappointed to know that anyone who marries into the family is required to sign a hefty prenup." Her scowl deepens. "If your marriage is dissolved you will leave the marriage with only what you brought into it."

You have no real skin in the game, so it's fine for you to just shrug. "Of course."

She surveys you for what feels like several minutes, the game is forgotten, all you can feel is her eyes on you."We have the benefit gala next month. I trust you’ll be there and that you'll keep in mind this chat." 

Her tone implies everything: attend with grace, impress without attention-seeking. The suggestion resonates with the subtle, disciplined power of a royal matriarch.

You nod again.

"Good. There are people there that I wish you to meet."

The game is over. The score abysmal. The Mets have lost and you feel you can relate.  Ada gives you the briefest smile; thin, professional and far colder than polite.

“Have a pleasant rest of your evening.” 

Then, without another word, she turns and glides out of the room: a predator strolling away from her prey, having made her point without ever baring claws. Harry arrives seconds later, a worried look on his face as he holds out his jacket to you.

"I told them you were getting cold and I needed to get to you right away."

You smother a smirk as you take it from him gratefully, tugging it over your shoulders. It's heavy and warm and smells like his cologne

"Was it alright? She wasn't rude was she?"

"No. Just direct." You take his hand when he extends it. "She wasn't a big fan of Lucy though."

"She's not a big fan of anyone I date."

You give the family your farewells as you leave. You really do enjoy spending time with Harry's family minus Ada. 

They're warm and prone to laughter and much less uptight than you ever thought they'd be. 

"Let's have lunch this week," Mona says pressing a kiss to your cheekbone. "A girl’s day. I want to get you know you better." 

You feel terrible but 1:1 lunches with family was not part of your deal with Harry. Its hard enough keeping up a lie with him at your side, The scrutiny of a luncheon would prove to be too much. 

"I'd love to but I'm afraid work is very demanding this week,” you offer diplomatically. “I have a new piece coming in that I need to devote my time to."

You don't miss the way Mona looks crestfallen. You feel like an utter asshole and quickly rally. 

"Raincheck?" 

Inside the town car you hold in a groan. You have a splitting headache and there's still much you have to do before calling it a night. Raj still doesn't engage in conversation with you, but maybe that's for the best. You're not feeling particularly chatty. 

Harry shifts in the seat next to you, noting that you still wear his jacket around your shoulders. Something about the sight intrigues him. 

"I'm sorry my mother sprung the luncheon on you," he says truthfully. "She's never done that with any of my past relationships so I didn't anticipate it." 

You look his way. "I just don't know what to do if it comes up again." 

"I'll handle it." 

Outside, the city lights blur past like smudged ink, too soft and too fast. Inside, your stomach churns in quiet war. 

Your mind is on that kiss.

You try not to think about it now, about how he looked at you for half a second longer than he needed to, those calculating eyes betraying just a flicker of surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting you to kiss back. 

But you did. You did more than that. You leaned in like you meant it, clung to him like it wasn’t just part of the deal. Like maybe something sparked and you felt it in your ribs. But this isn’t real. You’re being paid, hired to play a role: the doting fiancée, the perfect buffer, a human shield between him and whatever pressure his family keeps pressing into his spine.

But now, in this stupidly comfortable car with the low golden lights stroking over his jawline, you feel something beginning to fray inside you.  Not affection, but curiosity, maybe? You can feel his gaze flicker your way, reading you like a stock report, and you resist the urge to look back.

“Long night,” he says, like it’s casual. Like he didn't kiss you like something out of a romance book.

You nod once, stiff. “Mhm.”

“So have you started to reassess my kissing prowess?” he asks, and there’s something dangerous in the way he says it: soft and amused like he’s setting bait.

"I believe you rate a bit higher now," you tease back. "A solid seven out of ten." 

"Ah, well, good to have something to aspire to," he grins. 

You nod with a smirk, watching the traffic as the car moves towards your apartment before you remember something Ada mentioned. 

"Your grandmother mentioned the benefit gala next week?" 

Harry sighs, the back of his head tilting back against the seat in exhaustion. Between his job demands and this farce he's feeling completely strung out.  

"I forgot about that." 

He pulls out his phone, glancing at the messages. His abrupt severing of the conversation irritates you. 

"You said one family event per month. Pretty sure this is the third in two weeks."

"I know, I know," Harry says caustically. "But c'mon, it's not like you're really suffering. You love baseball, you said so yourself."

"I didn't exactly get to enjoy myself. Did I?" You bite back. "I was so paranoid I was going to say the wrong thing." 

"Didn't stop you from dancing around and making a fool of yourself at the game today." 

That feels like a low blow, and you turn your furious glare on him. He doesn't meet your eyes, his own gaze trained on his phone. 

"I'm sorry that I feel emotions, Castillo. It's nice you might want to try it out for yourself."  

Harry is quiet, eyes on his phone as he begins to type. He's texting someone or maybe just making notes on how irritated he is. But you do notice the telltale pink at the tips of his ears that let you know he knows he said the wrong thing. 

You're so angry right now that you want to do something drastic. You can't tell Harry off and risk losing your money. Instead you bring your own phone out, punching in a text to George. 

Let's skip dinner and get right to dessert at my place tonight. Wdyt? 

The reply is instantaneous. 

Send me the address and I'll bring the wine. Can't have dessert without wine. 

authors note: i really appreciate all of the comments that have been left and i hope my taglist works. does this feel like an old rom com to you? it helps me write if i know what parts you like. and i wonder what will happen next with these 2.

xx

💋💋💋💋

i got the line dividers from @saradika-graphics

[zepskies]

OMG THIS IS AMAZING 😂💜 You're an artist for real, friend!

And it's not too late at all! 💕

You're an amazing writer - whether it's writing for our cocky Ben and his dad skills, researching the 1940s to get Sam and Dean's slang right, or think of ways for cheeky Russell to smooth talk his way back in the game after he forgot about his wife's date - you nail them all! (And now we're adding Pedrito to the party? Well sign me the hell up!). Next to all that, you are a wonderful soul. You're always supportive, kind and how you manage to take your time to respond and react to every single thing is still beyond me (I bet you've got a clone somewhere, don't you 😂).

As if the awesome sign wasn't enough, you really got me with this one 🥹

Hehe I promise I don't have a clone - just several extra limbs for scheduling posts 🤣🐙

We haven't talked as much yet, but you're a lovely mutual who I'm grateful I got to meet on here! I remember our first interaction was in the SPN community, on a "tips for planning a series" post, and you were so nice and supportive! It was my first time asking a question in a community and your kindness helped me feel less insecure right away. Sometimes it's the small things that make you stay or leave - you were one of the people who made me stay. 🧡 Including your stories, such as "Against the Wind", which, funnily enough, I didn't even realize was yours until much later. And I've still got so many more I want to read!!

Omg yes I remember that SPN community post! I love talking about stuff like that, so it was fun to have that discourse. I'm so glad you were able to feel at ease quickly. It really can be the small things, and that makes me so happy that I could contribute to you "staying" 💜

Oh I'm so glad you enjoyed Against the Wind!! That was such a fun little series for me to write in omegaverse world. lol I've also enjoyed every single fic I've read of yours so far, and looking forward to reading more! 💜

ALRIGHTY. Now - I know I'm late, but I hope I get to sneak an ask or two into your inbox before the 4th of July ends (it's the 5th here already, but the deadline's still ongoing somewhere right?). Oh and of course I'll try and join!

Hahaaa yep you made the cutoff! It was still 4th of July over here. I got both of your mini fic requests, so I hope to get to all of them throughout the rest of the summer. Again, thanks so much for participating AND wanting to write for the challenge!! 💕

I've never actually done this before...

Reaching follower milestones has never really been my main goal here. I hopped over from Ao3 to the Tumblrverse two years ago to share my stories and see if I could connect more with any potential readers. What I didn't know was how amazing SPN (and adjacent Jackles fandoms) would be over here...

How much fun I would have expressing myself, challenging myself to write new things and grow as a writer, and getting to vibe with my readers and other amazing writers.

I now consider some of those special people my friends, and they continue to make my day better every time we interact — whether it's hyping each other up and fangirling in each other's comments and reblog comments, or talking about everything and nothing in our DMs. That support has gotten me through some rough times in the past two years.

So "celebrating" this milestone of over 5,000 followers is really just me saying THANK YOU to everyone who's supported me by reading, commenting, and reblogging my work, helping me brainstorm, giving me inspiration, or just simply being my friend! 💜

⋆˙⟡ WAYS TO PARTICIPATE:

Because you guys know I'm extra af 😂, there are 3 sections to choose from:

⟡ Ask Me Stuff

⟡ Summer Writing Challenge!

⟡ Mini Fic Requests

Ask Me Stuff:

⟡ Let's revisit these EOY Artist/Writer questions. Ask me any of them!

⟡ Ask me anything you want to know about my storyverses: Break Me Down, Unravel Me, Lost On You, Midnight Espresso, Smoke Eater, The Honorable Choice, Every Second Counts, Take Me Home, or any others!

Summer Writing Challenge:

If you're feelin' frisky and wanna join this summer writing challenge of less than 5,000 words before September 1, here's how to play...

💗 Gif Check: I'll send you a gif depending on the character you choose from the list below. Write a story that matches the vibe or completes the "scene." Just shoot me an ask with the character you want to write about, and request a gif!

🎨 Color Prompt: You choose a character from the list below. I'll choose a color palette for you based on what I think your aesthetic is!

🎙️ Songfic: Give me a character + a decade and/or genre of music, and I'll give you a song to match!

**Guidelines:

Submissions with pairings can be Character x Reader, Character x OC, or Character x Character.

(Please no RPF or Wincest.)

Include tags, notes, warnings if necessary - including if it's 18+

Please use the "Keep Reading" break if it's over 500 words.

Max word count 5,000 (for your sanity lol). Minimum 500 words.

Tag @zepskies (me) somewhere in the post.

Include this tag - #Zepskies 5K - within your first 5 tags.

Send me an ask until July 30! Post your fic by September 1.

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Mini Fic Requests:

Uno Reverse! 🔄 For these drabbles (1,000 words or less), I will only answer non-anonymous asks so I can verify if you're over 18. Please make sure your age is listed in your bio! 😉

Check out the "characters I currently write for" down below. My inbox will be open for these types of requests from June 27 - July 4 only!

💗 Gif Check: Pick a character from the list and send me a gif! I'll do my best to write you a drabble that matches the vibe.

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☕️ Characters I currently write for:

(or would like to write for)

⟡ Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester - Supernatural ⟡ Soldier Boy - The Boys ⟡ Mark Meachum - Countdown ⟡ Beau Arlen - Big Sky ⟡ Russell Shaw - Tracker ⟡ Joel Miller - The Last of Us ⟡ Javier Peña - Narcos ⟡ Harry Castillo - The Materialists ⟡ Alec McDowell - Dark Angel ⟡ Jason Teague - Smallville ⟡ Boaz Priestly - 10 Inch Hero ⟡ CJ Braxton - Dawson’s Creek ⟡ Éomer, Aragorn, Haldir, Thranduil - Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit

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[amaniansari]

You feel like Home (Rhysand x Reader)

Rain tapped gently against the windows, soft and steady, like nature’s version of a love song. Your apartment glowed with warm lamplight and the faint scent of vanilla from the candle Rhysand insisted on lighting every time he stayed over.

You stood barefoot in the kitchen, stirring a pot of pasta with one hand and sipping wine with the other. Music played low from the Bluetooth speaker—something jazzy, something that made you feel like the lead in a black-and-white film.

The front door clicked open.

“Sweetheart?” Rhysand’s voice drifted in, smooth as always, a mix of velvet and amusement.

“In the kitchen!” you called, smiling before you even saw him.

He strolled in a moment later, all dark jeans, black Henley, and a navy trench coat still speckled with raindrops. His hair was slightly damp, and his eyes—those impossibly violet eyes—lit up the second they met yours.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, striding across the room and slipping an arm around your waist from behind. He nuzzled your neck, his breath warm. “Missed you.”

“You were gone for six hours,” you teased, leaning back into him.

“Too long,” he said, spinning you around gently and kissing you slow. Not rushed. Not hungry. Just soft and full of everything he didn’t need to say.

When he pulled back, you blinked up at him, heart in free fall.

“Hi,” you said quietly.

“Hi,” he echoed, grinning.

You poked his chest. “You smell like rain and overpriced cologne.”

He caught your hand and kissed your knuckles. “And you smell like heaven.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Do I get to help, or should I just stand here and admire you being domestic and sexy?”

“You can grate the parmesan.”

Rhys pressed a hand to his heart. “You trust me with cheese? This is true love.”

You passed him the grater and watched him get to work, sleeves rolled up, humming off-key to the music. Domestic Rhysand was dangerous. Far more dangerous than his usual Armani-clad, CEO-of-a-startup energy. You could barely handle how good he looked in your tiny kitchen, helping with dinner like he’d always belonged there.

Because he did. Gods, he really did.

He glanced at you over his shoulder. “You’re staring.”

You shrugged. “Can you blame me?”

He walked over, still holding the cheese. “I think I’m going to marry you.”

Your heart did a weird, fluttery thing. “What?”

Rhys chuckled. “Not tonight. Not while we’re covered in flour and I’ve just risked my life grating dairy.” He set the bowl down and took your hands. “But someday. When the timing’s right. When you’re ready. When I’ve proven to you that I’m serious.”

You searched his face. “You already have.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Good,” he whispered, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “Because I’ve never felt more sure about anything.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Say it again.”

He leaned in, lips against your temple.

“I’m going to marry you,” he said. “And we’ll live in a house with way too many books and way too many plants, and we’ll have slow mornings and loud dinners and quiet nights like this one, and I’ll love you even when you burn the toast or hog the blanket or cry during movie trailers.”

Your eyes shimmered. “You make it sound so easy.”

He kissed the corner of your mouth. “It is. With you, it is.”

The timer beeped. You both froze. Then you laughed.

“Pasta,” you said, reaching for the stove.

“Right,” he said, grabbing the strainer like it was a mission from the gods.

Dinner was simple—creamy penne with garlic and lemon, fresh basil from your windowsill plant, and way too much cheese. You ate curled up on the couch under a fuzzy blanket, his legs tangled with yours, the city lights painting soft shadows across your skin.

Halfway through the meal, Rhys wiped sauce from your cheek with his thumb and said, “You’re my favorite place to come home to.”

You looked at him—really looked. “Me too.”

[prettydaisygirl]

Hi love! I saw your requests were open (which is exciting bc I LOVE your stuff) and specifically for Sirius and Remus which is PERFECT because those are my favs 🤗 so what about one of them with a reader who is overworking herself and stressed out and they’re trying to remind her to slow down and take care of herself and ask for help but she’s not listening and you can decide where it goes. I was trying to think of something Angsty bc I do love my angst too 😬

thanks for requesting this! I've discovered that I absolutely love writing for Sirius so I will take any and all requests with him thank you very muchhhh hope you enjoy <3

boyfriend!Sirius Black x fem!reader who is overworked ✿ 732 words

cw: fem!reader, slight angst, Sirius being a protective boyfriend, reader being stubborn, fainting

sirius black masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

It’s Thursday evening, and you and Sirius are cuddled up together on the couch, watching a movie. Or at least, you’re supposed to be watching it. You’ve fallen asleep against him, again, for the third night in a row. 

He encourages it, actually, running slow hands up and down your back. He’d made you some tea earlier, and picked a slow movie he knew would have your eyelids drooping. You’ve been working too hard recently, waking up too early and staying at work too late. If the dark circles under your eyes didn’t give you away, then you falling asleep at the dinner table earlier definitely did.

He’d already said something to you about it last week.

“You can’t keep going like this, love.” He’d said then, “They’re working you to the bone.”

“I need this promotion,” You tried to argue. It was enough of an excuse for you, but not for him. “If I want it, I have to prove to them that I mean it. It’s only a few more weeks.”

But Sirius didn’t know if you could handle this for a few more weeks. He doesn’t know if you’ve been eating enough, you’re long gone before he wakes up in the morning. You eat your dinner like you’ve been starving.

He’s worried about you. 

So, getting you to sleep a little longer, laying on his chest, was just a part of his duty as a good boyfriend, right?

You look a bit better the next afternoon when he sees you, but it doesn’t matter. You fall right back into your routine, and by the time you admit you picked up an extra weekend shift, Sirius is fed up.

“Love.” He takes both of your hands in his own, raising them to his lips. “You can’t keep going like this. You’re going to get sick.”

“I’m fine.” You insist, shaking your head. You don’t tell him about how you’ve felt dizzy sometimes recently, or that you’ve had a headache for the last three days. “They announce the promotion on Friday. If I can just work until then-”

“Do you hear yourself?” Sirius regrets snapping the moment the harsh quip leaves his lips, but he’s angry and he can’t take it back now. “You have to stop. You need to take a break.”

Your eyes grow hard, lids narrowing at him. “You don’t get to speak to me like that.”

Sirius falters, taking a breath in, trying to get control of his temper, his frustration. “Baby, look, I didn’t-”

“Sirius, this is my career.” You stress, running a hand through your hair and shaking your head. “This isn’t something I can just set aside and do later. I need this promotion. I want this job. So just… stop.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. 

The both of you dance awkwardly around each other for the rest of the night. He insists on a goodnight kiss and you give him one, but he still feels like ants are crawling beneath his skin as he lays next to you. He just has a bad feeling.

He tugs you closer and wishes there was more he could do. 

So he tries. 

He wakes up with you the next morning, though he thinks he’d rather do just about anything than wake up early. He does it for you. He makes you breakfast, and you seem grateful. It doesn’t get rid of the bags underneath your eyes.

Things take a turn for the worse on Wednesday. He can tell something is wrong the moment you walk through the door. He steps over to hug you and you just sort of… collapse into his arms. Literally, you faint into him.

“Okay, baby, you’re okay…” He guides you over to the sofa gently, and gets a cool rag to place over your forehead. You wake soon after, blinking slowly like you’re unsure of what’s happening.

“You fainted.” He tells you before you can ask. “You’re staying home tomorrow.”

You don’t argue, even though part of you wants to. Part of you wants to scream at him that your job is on the line but you physically can’t. So, you stay quiet. And you let him take care of you. 

And in the end, missing one day doesn’t even matter.

You get better, and you get the promotion.

And Sirius gets to brag that he was right. 

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[elvensorceress]

tagged by the incredible @bekkachaos!! everyone go read her new fic it's spicy and delicious!

@tizniz @greencreekwolf @hippolotamus @glorious-spoon @daffi-990 @spotsandsocks @fleurdebeton @exhuastedpigeon @damnikindaship @sergeantchenford @dangerpronebuddie @sofa-king-lame @livinginsunnyhell @mangonadaeddie @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @monsterrae1 @babydollbuck @ronordmann @singitforthegirls @thewolvesof1998 @sazanahashi

Chris causally— as if it’s not at all deliberate or on purpose— takes the rainbow flyer advertising Pride Night Speed Dating and slides it across the table until it’s sitting next to his dad’s breakfast. 

And Eddie sits down and looks at it before Buck manages to get his own food and join them.

“What’s this?” Eddie looks at Chris first, since the teenager was the instigator, but Chris just points at Buck. 

Buck brings the whole plate of muffins over and starts with one so he doesn’t have to do this all over again. “Maddie gave it to me,” he says with his mouth full. He’s busy eating. It’d be unreasonable to talk now.

Eddie picks up the flyer, quietly reads it, and sets it back down. As if both Buck and Chris aren’t staring at him, waiting for his reaction. 

He doesn’t know why they’re waiting. It’s not a big deal. Buck is single. He doesn’t know who the hell he should date. He’s dated one man and a whole lot of women. And maybe there were other men in there before he knew or realized that’s what he was feeling and that’s what they were doing when they hung out, but that’s ancient history. Right now? He has no one. He’s not interested in anyone. He is not pining or fantasizing about anyone in particular. 

Maddie is right, it’s been eight months. Buck doesn’t want to be alone. He can be alone. He’s perfectly fine with that. He’s learned his lessons. But he’d really like to find someone who wants to share a life with him. He’s not getting any younger. 

“Are you going to go?” Eddie asks. Nonchalantly. Not accusingly. Because there’s nothing to accuse Buck of. It’s not a weird or wrong thing for Buck to go out and date. They’re making conversation. Normal conversation between friends and sort of roommates. Inadvertent roommates. If you can call crashing on someone's couch for weeks as being roommates instead of Buck overstaying his welcome and invading their home.

Buck’s mouth is still dry. Full of crumbly muffin that has sucked all moisture away and left him a barren desert. He swallows hard and it’s not pleasant. “Maybe? Yes. No. I don’t know. I told her I’d think about it.” 

Eddie nods and looks so much like Chris when he does. Or Chris looks like Eddie. They look like each other, and Buck can’t look at either of them even though Eddie is totally cool and collected and unbothered. Why would he be bothered? They’re friends. They talk about everything. Almost everything. Some things aren’t meant to be talked about. 

 Eddie looks at him across the table with blankness in his eyes. It makes him seem guarded and caged in. “What’s stopping you?” 

“Uhh,” Buck was not expecting that. What the hell does he say to that question? There’s nothing in particular stopping him. He’s single. He’s fine being alone but he would really like to not be alone. “I’m homeless, for one.” 

Chris stops eating and makes a scrunched-nose face at him. 

Something weird goes across Eddie’s face, too. Like hurt. Something confused, but also sorrowful, painful. “Homeless? You’re homeless?” 

“I don’t mean— Not like actually homeless.” Except he is very much literally homeless. He has a place he’s staying. A really nice, warm, familiar, wonderful place that was his for— for a while. It was. Past tense. But he can’t stay forever. The longer he stays, the longer he wears out their welcome. It’s their home, not Buck’s. Buck does not have a home. “I love being here. I’m grateful you haven’t kicked me out. I know I’m not living out of my truck or on the streets or anything. But I don’t have a— a place of my own. That’s all. How would I date anyone? I can’t bring someone back to— to h-have— finish— Not finish! To h-hang out on a couch for the end of a date. You know?” 

Chris sets down his fork and picks up his crutches. “I’m not hungry anymore. I’ll eat later. Thanks. Bye.” 

[yandereforme]

Part 6: Entrance Exams and Principal Nezu

The day of the entrance exams, you walk in there feeling nervous. You had scheduled a meeting with Neo to talk about your plan to be a hero who is similar to recovery girl, working with medics instead of heroes most of the time but still able to go on missions.

You knew your quirk would help you with this. Your quirk, named Rapunzel song, was a healing cork with a special requirement of singing. You could hold someone’s hand and to heal the injury. The main drawback was that your throat could get scratchy and bloody, and if you healed a particularly bad injury, you could feel the echoes of the injury.

Principal Nezu was actually very kind to you, having a simple chat with you about your idea. He didn’t even have you run the recommendation or normal entrance exam, instead of choosing to have you take a test in his office and speak to him about your goals before having you run a simulation of activities you would do as a hero. You didn’t really think the simulation was that bad, but when you got out, Nezu seemed almost impressed. He let you out earlier than the others, telling you that he would send your letter along with your brother’s.

Unbeknownst to you, Nezu had been expecting you for a while. Something that very few people knew was that while his intelligence had been enhanced while he was in the lab and he had escaped mostly on his own, he had had a little help.

The day before he escaped, one of the scientists had brought their young daughter in, explaining that she had a quirk that healed people and would be healing him, since the scientists had broken his leg the day before. The scientist had then had the girl heal him, and the scientist had left the two of them alone for a brief moment.The girl had whispered an apology into his fur and told him the combination for one of the locks. (She didn’t know that he had already known the combination, but he still appreciated it.) She had also healed him more than she had been asked to, healing not only his injuries, but a few of his scars as well. The scientist had intervene before she could heal all of them, but he deeply appreciated most of his scars being removed.

Nezu never forgot that girl, and after he had become powerful, he had looked for her. At the time, she had just started high school. He had kept tabs on the girl, not wanting to interfere with her life, as she had made it quite clear in her social media posts that she wished to have nothing to do with heroes. He decided to Respect that, and did not reach out.

(He was not ignorant of his emotions. He knew that part of the reason he hesitated to reach out was not all of you to her preferences but due to his own mixed feelings about her. She herself had been nothing but kind, and he was grateful for what she had done, but it did not change the fact that her father had been one of his tormentors.)

He didn’t forget her name though. He never forgot.(he had stopped keeping tabs on her around the time Toshinori had started his agency. There was just too much to do in regards to school,the commission, and All For One for him to think over a girl from his past.)

Nezu only found out about everything that had happened when Toshinori told him he had found a successor. Of course he immediately started researching the child and one of the first things he found was that the Midoriya’s were trying to adopt you. Your last name and resemblance to your mother immediately made him interested and the more he learned about you, the more interesting you became. Your quirk seemed to be much much stronger than your mothers, since your mother had suffered fatigue and pain from her own quirk often, while you only seemed to suffer from dry throat and mild pain at worst.

Your attitude was also intriguing. You had had a terrible life, yet you were still kind and helpful. He reviewed security footage, and you were not a doormat, but you were not cruel or even bitter. You just adapted to every situation and made the best of things.

(He may have helped the Midoriya’s adopt you quicker by streamlining parts of the process and ensured that your former foster family got the maximum sentence possible, but there was no proof of the matter.)

He quickly got into the habit of spying on you after that, and while usually he only professionally cared for children, you quickly became one of his favorites. Your kindness despite your own trauma was a balm to his soul. (he toyed with the idea of trying to adopt you himself, but he was self-aware enough to know that he would not be a good parent, especially not to someone like you.)

When you applied for the meeting with him, he was conflicted. He knew that you would be a good hero, but an irrational part of him hated the idea of you going into any sort of danger. In the end, he decided to accept your meeting, just to see what you were like and see if you could calm his irrational brain.

During your interview with him, you did not look put off by his appearance in the slightest, a rare thing that he appreciated. He could tell it was genuine, too, which only made it even better. The most fascinating part of the entire thing, however, was the simulation. You interacted with the simulation extremely well, but the movements during your (admittedly short) fight against a villain in the simulation reminded him of a mixture of Eraserhead, Present Mic, Midnight, All Might and Endeavor. The similarities to All Might were easily explained, but the others….

By the time the simulation ended, he had decided that you would be a student at UA, but you would not be allowed to be a hero. You were too interesting for him not to allow you to UA, but he did not want to risk you interacting with the Commission. He would just have to spend the next few years subtly convincing you to join his staff rather than pursue heroism.

When he designed your schedule, he decided you should be in both of the classes part time, while spending the majority of your time with Recovery Girl. It was in part due to the fact that both classes were full, but also due to his own knowledge that both Vlad King and Eraserhead had their own possessive streaks that you would most likely trigger. Them working together to protect you would definitely help his cause.

Later, when you celebrated getting into UA with your family, Nezu would listen to your excitement through the app he had installed onto your phone with a smile. Everything was going according to plan.

Edit: i’m sorry I’ve been gone so long, life has been hectic and my muse went into a coma. I can’t guarantee that I’m going to post again today, but I can guarantee that I’ll post again sometime this week. I almost forgot about the story, so I hope you guys enjoy this part. Also, let me know when the comments if you want me to make a separate post that is a sequel to this, focused on your years at UA instead of me continuing to reblog this post with new updates. Have an awesome day!

Mha Yandere series

Part 1: The dawn of quirks

You are the younger sibling of Yoichi and Hizashi Shigaraki(Yoichi is five years older, Hizashi is ten years older)

Yan! Yoichi

He’s more possessive than obsessive

Sees himself as your savior from Hizashi

Will try to take you with him when he leaves

Manipulative(gentle)

Won’t let anything be your fault(and if it is, he will blame Hizashi for teaching you to act like that)

He knows how controlling Hizashi is, so will let you do things as long as he comes with

Will sabotage any relationship you get into (platonic or romantic)

Is easily manipulated by cuteness

Thinks of you as his cute cheerleader, his sweet angel of a little sibling

Doesn’t understand how unhealthy and hypocritical he is

Yan! Hizashi Shigaraki

He sees you as a precious baby

Will refuse to punish you, but will take away anything that could ‘corrupt’ you

Will spoil you (he starts getting into crime when you were five, became big boss when you were seven)

Manipulative (forceful)

Is very controlling

Will only let you leave the house as a treat (will never let you leave alone)

Isn’t as easily manipulated as Yoichi, but has a weakness for you acting cute (calling him Hizanii will make him melt)

Has cameras all around the house

You will only do online school

You knew early on what Hizashi did for work. You pretended not to know, but you did. You always knew your brothers fought when you weren’t around, but would never fight in front of you. You learned to be a little manipulative early on, which let you get away with some free time.

When Yoichi leaves, it’s like a game of keep away. You are always being fought over like a toy. They will not openly badmouth each other, but they will slip in jabs at each other you pretend to ignore.

They didn’t know you were there during their big fight. They didn’t realize until they heard you cry out in pain. By the time they got to you, it was too late. They wept, as brothers, over your body. They would fight again another day, and they knew it, but for now, they mourned their sunshine.

Hizashi didn’t notice the sparking of a quirk inside you. If he did, he might have realized his dead little sibling wasn’t quite as gone as they thought.

Edit: please let me know in the comments if you want me to continue this.

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @kellynickelsgirl00 @i-doutt-it @beth-isnt-home @darylandbethfanforever9 @brianna-merlim @pumpkinkpieandtomato @smashleywow @imadisneyprincessiswear @clementineslawyer @pandaofsilentdeath @dixonsbridexx @deerdaryl @imadisneyprincessiswear @staley83 @zombayyyyy @death-in-a-tar0t-card @straw--b3rry @capricxnt @dixonsstinkysock

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

TW: cussing, Merle is well ... Merle, self sabotage, angst, fluff, walkers (Zombies) Canon level racism, violence, Woodbury, the Governor, hostility, drug use, talk of alcohol consumption.

Part 19

Between Brothers - Part 20

The prison walls felt like they were closing in, even though they stretched higher and wider than any place you'd called home in months. Gray concrete and rusted metal bars created a maze of shadows that seemed to shift with every flicker of candlelight. You'd been here a couple weeks now, and while Rick's group had grudgingly accepted your presence, the sideways glances and whispered conversations when you passed told a different story.

But it wasn't really about you, was it? It was about Merle.

Even now, as you made your way through the corridors, you could hear his voice echoing off the walls, loud and grating as he regaled someone with a story they clearly didn't want to hear.

"...and that sumbitch Governor thought he could just take my blade like I was some kinda pussy..." Merle's voice carried that familiar edge, part bravado, part barely contained rage.

You found him in what used to be the prison's mail room, rifling through cabinets with his good hand while his prosthetic—now sporting a wicked-looking knife duct-taped to the metal base—knocked papers and debris to the floor. The sound of bits and pieces hitting concrete echoed through the empty room.

"Merle." Your voice came out softer than intended.

He spun around, and for just a moment, you caught something vulnerable in his expression before that trademark smirk slid back into place.

"Well, well. If it ain't my lil doe, sneakin' up on me like some kinda ghost."

"What are you doing?" You stepped closer, noting the scattered paper, the way his pupils seemed just a little too dilated in the dim light.

"Just lookin' for some aspirin, sugar-tits. All this prison livin's givin' me a headache." He kicked at a empty box with his boot, the gesture too casual, too rehearsed.

You'd seen enough of the world before to notice the slight tremor in his hands, the way he kept licking his lips, the manic energy that seemed to radiate from him like heat from a fever.

Drugs - he was looking for drugs.

"Merle." You said his name again, firmer this time.

"Now don't you start with me, honey. I ain't in the mood for no lecture from—"

"From what?" You interrupted, surprising yourself with the steel in your voice. "From someone who actually gives a damn about you?"

That shut him up. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, like a fish gasping for air. The knife on his prosthetic caught the light as he shifted his weight.

"You don't know what you're talkin' about," he said finally, but the fight had gone out of his voice.

"I know you're hurting." You took another step closer. "I know you're scared."

"Scared?" The word came out like a snarl. "Merle Dixon ain't scared of nothin', 'specially not in some busted-up prison with a bunch of—"

"Then why are you looking for a fix ?" The question hung in the air between you like smoke. "Why are you hiding in here instead of trying to make things right with the people who are supposed to be on our side now?"

His laugh was bitter, sharp enough to cut. "Make things right? You think I can just waltz on up to that colored gal and say 'sorry I called you names' and everything'll be right as rain?"

"Michonne," you said quietly. "Her name is Michonne."

"What?"

"The woman you keep calling 'that colored gal.' Her name is Michonne. And she's not my enemy, Merle. She doesn't have to be yours either."

He stared at you for a long moment, something shifting in his expression. When he spoke again, his voice was rougher, more uncertain. "You really think it's that simple, lil doe?"

"I think it's a start." You gestured to the mess around his feet. "This isn't helping anyone. Least of all you."

"Yeah, well..." He scratched at his stubble with his good hand. "Maybe I don't deserve no help."

The admission was so quiet you almost missed it. But there it was, hanging between you like a confession whispered in a church pew. Merle Dixon, the man who swaggered through life like he owned it, admitting he might not be worth saving.

"That's not your call to make," you said.

"Ain't it?" He looked down at his prosthetic, at the knife he'd taped there like some kind of medieval weapon. "Look at me, lil-doe. I'm a one-handed redneck with a mouth that don't know when to quit and a temper that gets people killed. What exactly am I bringin' to this little party?"

Before you could answer, footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. Heavy boots, familiar gait. Daryl.

"Shit," Merle muttered, suddenly looking like a teenager caught sneaking out after curfew.

"Y'all in here?" Daryl's voice carried that characteristic mumble, words running together like water over stones. "Been lookin' all over for ya."

He appeared in the doorway, crossbow slung over his shoulder, taking in the scene with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. The scattered debris, Merle's guilty expression, the way you were standing between them like a human shield.

"Found us," Merle said with forced cheer. "Was just showin' our girl here the facilities. Real top-notch operation you got goin'."

"Uh-huh." Daryl's gaze flicked to you, a silent question in his eyes. You gave the slightest shake of your head. Not now.

"M'here to tell ya Rick wants to talk," Daryl continued, his words blending together in that soft Georgia drawl. "Both of ya. Somethin' about work."

"Course he does." Merle's bravado was back, but it felt brittle now, like ice over deep water. "Can't have the ol'Merle just sittin' around enjoyin' the hospitality."

"Merle." Daryl's voice carried a warning. "Don't."

"Don't what, baby brother?" Merle's voice was rising again, that familiar edge creeping back. "You think I don't see how they look at us? How they whisper when we walk by?"

"They're just—" you began.

"Just what, lil doe? Just protectin' their own? Just makin' sure the big bad Dixon don't corrupt their little slice of paradise?" He gestured around the ruined room with his prosthetic. "Well, newsflash, sugar'. Paradise was lost a long time ago."

The silence that followed was deafening. Daryl shifted his weight, the leather of his vest creaking softly. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

"Y'done?" Daryl asked finally.

Merle's shoulders sagged. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm done."

"Good." Daryl stepped into the room, debris crunching under his boots. "'Cause we got work to do. And standin' around feelin' sorry for ourselves ain't gonna get it done."

"When'd you get so wise, baby brother?" Merle asked, but there was no bite to it anymore.

"'Round the same time you started actin' like a damn fool," Daryl replied, but his tone was gentle. "Now c'mon. Rick's waitin', and I ain't gonna be the one to tell him we couldn't find ya."

Merle nodded, then looked at you. "You comin', lil doe?"

"In a minute," you said. "I'll catch up."

The brothers exchanged a look—some silent communication that came from years of being all each other had. Then Merle was walking past you, his prosthetic clicking against the concrete floor.

"Hey, Merle?" you called out when he reached the doorway.

He turned back, eyebrows raised.

"Her name is Michonne," you said again. "And she's been through hell, just like the rest of us. Just like you."

He stared at you for a long moment, then nodded once. "I'll... I'll keep that in mind."

After he left, you and Daryl stood in the ruins, surrounded by the evidence of Merle's desperate search for oblivion.

"Y'okay ?" Daryl asked quietly.

"Ill be alright" You said softly bending down to collect some of the scattered papers. "We should go," you said finally.

"Yeah." Daryl stood, offering you his hand. "W'should."

But neither of you moved. Not yet. For just a moment, in the ruins, you stood together in the gray light filtering through barred windows, surrounded by the debris of Merle's pain and the weight of your own uncertain futures.

But for now, in this moment, you were just two people trying to hold together someone you both cared about, even when he seemed determined to fall apart.

"Daryl?" you said.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For... for coming to find us."

He nodded, that shy smile ghosting across his features. "M'always gonna find ya, Both of ya."

The sun cast long shadows across the prison yard as you watched Glen check his pistol for the third time. His movements were efficient, practiced—the kind of muscle memory that came from months of life-or-death supply runs.

You'd been observing the group's routines for almost a week now, learning the rhythms of their survival, and today felt like the right time to push.

"Mind if I tag along?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual as you approached the beat-up Honda they'd been loading with empty bags and water jugs.

Glen looked up, surprise flickering across his features. "On the run? I don't know... Rick hasn't really approved—"

"Rick's got his hands full with the fence repairs," you interrupted gently. "And you could use an extra pair of eyes. I won't get in the way."

He hesitated, glancing back toward the prison where you could see Daryl working on reinforcing one of the watch towers. "It's not that I don't trust you, it's just... you arrived with Merle right? And after everything that happened in Woodbury..."

"I understand." You did understand. Trust was a luxury none of them could afford to give freely anymore. "But I need to start pulling my weight around here. Can't do that sitting behind these walls."

Glen studied your face for a long moment, then sighed. "Alright. But you stick close, and if I say we leave, we leave. No arguments."

"No arguments," you agreed, fighting back a smile as you climbed into the passenger seat.

The drive through the Georgia countryside was tense at first, both of you hyperaware of every shadow, every rustling bush that might hide a walker. But as the miles passed and the Honda's engine settled into a steady rhythm, some of the tension began to ease.

"So," Glen said, eyes still scanning the road ahead, "what was it like? Living in Woodbury with the Governor?"

You'd been expecting this question, but it still made your stomach tighten. "Complicated," you said finally. "At first, it seemed like paradise. Hot showers, electricity, people who weren't trying to kill you every day. But there was always this... undercurrent. Like everyone was performing in a play, and if you forgot your lines..."

"The Governor would remind you," Glen finished grimly.

"Something like that." You watched a lone walker stumble through a field, too far away to be a threat. "Merle thrived there, at least at first. He liked having the respect. I think it made him feel safe."

"And you?"

"I was never really part of it. Not the way Merle was. I think the Governor kept me around because I was useful—I could sew, help with basic medical stuff, keep Merle in line..." You paused. "And because of that ... I wasn't a threat."

Glen glanced at you sideways. "You sure about that?"

Before you could ask what he meant, he was pulling into the parking lot of a small strip mall. Half the storefronts were boarded up, their windows spider-webbed with cracks, but a few looked promising. A pharmacy, a small grocery store, and at the far end, a liquor store with its neon sign dark but intact.

"We'll hit the grocery first," Glen said, checking his weapon again. "Then the pharmacy if it looks clear. In and out, quick and quiet."

The grocery store was a graveyard of empty shelves and scattered debris. You and Glen worked methodically, checking every aisle for anything useful. Canned goods were long gone, but you managed to find a few overlooked items: a can of green beans that had rolled under a shelf, some packets of instant oatmeal, a jar of peanut butter with just enough left to be worth taking.

"Not bad," Glen murmured as you filled your backpack. "The pharmacy might have some decent stuff too."

But as you moved through the store, your eyes kept drifting to the liquor store at the end of the strip. You thought about Merle, about the way he'd been searching through that stuff, about the barely contained desperation in his voice when he thought no one was listening.

"I want to check the liquor store," you said suddenly.

Glenn froze. "What? Why?"

"Just... I might find something useful."

"Like what? We don't need alcohol, we need—"

"Merle might benefit ... from just a little bit." The words came out sharper than you'd intended. "He's struggling, Glen. Really struggling. And I know it's not a solution, but if I can find something to help him take the edge off, shit that sounds bad"

"That's not helping him," Glen said firmly. "That's enabling him."

"Maybe. But he takes care of me, so I'm returning the favour. Besides if a little amount takes the edge off, the come down might not be so bad." You shouldered your pack. "I'm going to look. You can wait here if you want."

Glen's face cycled through several emotions—frustration, concern, resignation. "Damn it. Fine. But we're in and out, and if anything feels off, we leave. Got it?"

"Got it."

The liquor store was darker than the grocery, its windows more heavily boarded. Glen pulled out a small flashlight as you both stepped inside, the beam cutting through the dusty air. Surprisingly, the place hadn't been completely cleaned out. Bottles of wine lay scattered on the floor, and behind the counter, you could see the gleam of harder liquor.

"Three bottles," you said quietly. "That's all I need."

"Three bottles of what?"

"Whiskey, if I can find it. Something that'll burn going down." You started moving toward the back of the store, stepping carefully around broken glass.

"I still think this is a bad idea," Glen muttered, but he followed you, his flashlight beam dancing across the walls.

You'd just found what you were looking for—three bottles of Jack that had somehow survived the initial looting—when a voice from the back of the store made both of you freeze.

"Well, I'll be damned."

You spun around, Glen's flashlight beam landing on a figure emerging from what looked like a storage room. Middle-aged, graying beard. Your heart stopped.

"Tommy?" you whispered.

His face broke into a relieved grin. "Christ, girl, I thought you were dead. When you and Merle disappeared from the arena, the Governor was... well, let's just say he wasn't happy."

Glen had his gun out, but Tommy made no move for his weapon. Instead, he stepped forward, his eyes scanning you like he was checking for injuries.

"I'm fine," you said quickly. "We're both fine. Merle and I."

"Thank God for that." Tommy's relief was palpable as he stepped forward to hug you. "I've been worried sick. When the Governor sent out search parties, I volunteered for every one, hoping I'd find you before..."

"Before what?" Glen asked, his voice tight.

Tommy glanced at him, then down at you. "The Governor's got the whole town learning to use guns now. Says there's gonna be a war, and everyone needs to be ready to fight. He's... he's not the same man he was when you left. Something's broken in him."

"What do you mean?" you asked, though you weren't sure you wanted to know.

"He talks about your prison like it's some kind of fortress he needs to conquer. Keeps saying the people there took something from him, and he's gonna take it back." Tommy's voice dropped.

"He's got it in his head that if he can't have Woodbury the way it was, then nobody gets to have peace."

Glen's gun hand was steady, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. "Why are you telling us this?"

"Because I like this girl," Tommy said simply. "Always have." his voice caught slightly, "because she reminds me of what my Sarah could've grown into, if she'd lived. Don't want to see that light go out in a world where men like the Governor get to decide who lives and dies."

"Tommy," you said softly. "Come with us."

"Can't. Governor will notice. I can give you this." He pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket. "It's a list of the weapons the Governor's been stockpiling. Might help your people prepare."

Glen looked at you, confusion and suspicion warring in his expression. "This could be a trap."

"I promise you its not, where not all like ... him." Tommy agreed. "Merle's girl here took care of people, and I don't forget debts like that."

"I'm not Merle's girl," you said automatically, the protest weaker than you'd intended.

Tommy's smile was sad. "Maybe not. But I've seen the way he looks at you. You be careful, you hear? The Governor's got it in for Merle especially. Says he's a traitor and a coward."

"Merle's not a coward," you said fiercely.

"No," Tommy agreed. "But he's a man who's been pushed too far, and men like that do dangerous things. You keep an eye on him."

Glen was shifting his weight, clearly eager to leave. "We need to go."

"He's right," Tommy said. "Y'all get out of here. And tell Merle... tell him Tommy says he's lucky to have someone willing to risk their neck for him."

As you and Glen hurried back to the Honda, your mind was reeling. The bottles in your backpack clinked together with each step, a reminder of why you'd come, but Tommy's words echoed louder than the glass.

"I can't believe he just let us go," Glen said as he started the engine, his hands shaking slightly as he gripped the steering wheel.

"Tommy's a good man," you said quietly. "Always was."

"But he's one of them. The Governor's people."

"Not all of them chose to be." You stared out the window as the strip mall disappeared behind you. "Some of them are just trying to survive, same as us."

Glenn was quiet for a long moment, processing. "That list he gave us... if it's real..."

"It's real. Tommy wouldn't lie about something like that."

"How can you be sure?"

You thought about Tommy, the casual way he teased you took care of the children in Woodbury. "Because some things matter more than whatever side you're on."

You found Merle in the cage, sitting on the edge of his matress, staring at his prosthetic like it held the answers to questions he didn't know how to ask.

"Hey," you said softly.

He looked up, and the relief in his eyes was almost overwhelming. "There's my lil doe. Was startin' to think you'd run off on me."

"Never," you said, and meant it. "I brought you something."

His eyes sharpened as you pulled one of the bottles from your backpack. "Well, I'll be damned. You been holdin' out on me, sugar."

"Just... be careful, okay? It's supposed to help, not make things worse."

Merle took the bottle with his good hand, turning it over like it was made of gold. "You're somethin' else, you know that? Most people see a man like me and figure he's beyond savin'."

"Maybe they're not looking hard enough."

He was quiet for a moment, then looked up at you with an expression you'd never seen before—vulnerable, almost afraid. "What if they're right? What if I am beyond savin'?"

"Then I guess we'll find out together," you said, leaning against the doorway.

Merle's smile was small but genuine. "Together, huh? I like the sound of that, lil doe."

"Wait," you said as he started to twist off the cap. "There are conditions."

Merle paused, eyebrow raised. "Conditions?"

"I'm doing my best Officer Rick impersonation here," you said, trying to keep your voice light but firm. "You drink when I drink. And when I'm finished, you're finished too. Deal?"

He stared at you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "You serious, lil doe?"

"Deadly."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Well, alright" He held out the bottle. "Ladies first, then."

You took a small sip, the whiskey burning a path down your throat, then handed it back. He took a matching sip, his eyes never leaving yours.

"This is gonna be interesting," he murmured.

The evening air had turned cold, and you could feel the chill seeping through the prison walls. After sharing a small portion of the bottle—true to your word, you'd matched him drink for drink until you'd both had enough—you found yourself shivering despite the warmth the alcohol had provided.

"C'mon," Merle said, noticing your shivers. "Body heat's the best heat,"

You hesitated, suddenly aware of how intimate the small space felt. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"Ain't nothin' improper about it, honey. Just two people tryin' not to freeze their asses off." His voice was gentler than usual, the alcohol and exhaustion softening his usual rough edges. "Besides, you're gonna catch your death sittin' over there shakin' like a leaf."

Another shiver ran through you, and you realized he was right. Practical survival trumped whatever awkwardness you were feeling. You settled beside him, initially keeping a careful distance, but the cold was relentless.

"Come here," Merle said softly, lifting his good arm. "Ain't gonna hurt ya."

Slowly, you let yourself lean into his warmth, his arm coming around you. The heat from his body was immediate and welcome, and despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself relaxing against him.

"Better?" he asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

"Mmm" you admitted, your shivers finally starting to subside.

Outside the cage, you could hear the sounds of the prison settling into evening—conversations in the common area, the clang of metal on metal as repairs continued, the ever-present moan of walkers beyond the fences. But inside this small space, with Merle's steady breathing and the whiskey creating a warm haze, everything felt unexpectedly peaceful.

"Thank you," you said quietly.

"For what?"

"For letting me set the rules. For not making me feel foolish about it."

His arm tightened slightly around you. "You ain't foolish, lil doe. You're lookin' out for me, even when I don't deserve it."

"You deserve it," you said, surprising yourself with the conviction in your voice.

"Maybe," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the night settled around you both, you thought about Tommy's warning, about the Governor's plans, about the storm that was coming for all of you.

[superhoeva]

updates <3

hi, my loves! i hope that you're treating yourselves and others well in these crazy times. i just wanted to give you all my sporadic update for this month (and the upcoming ones as well) because lots of things are happening :)

first things first–i will be starting a graduate program next month! the department is small but mighty (women and gender studies), and something i feel like i'm going to absolutely love. the things i'm going to be learning and experiencing are integral themes of the creative projects i'm working on outside tumblr, and are just topics that, in general, are incredibly important to me and my values. i will also be moving into my first apartment soon and am soooo nervous/excited. it's not my first time living somewhere that's not my "house," but it's still a big step up in responsibility.

next, i just wanted to say that, despite past/current situations, i'm having an incredible time with you all. this is the most free i've felt with my fic writing ever, and it's because of you guys! thank you for letting me explore and ramble about people, worlds, and creatures that don't even exist. with the other stuff i'm working on (creative-wise), i put incredible amounts of pressure on myself, so i'm grateful to have somewhere where i can loosen up.

currently, i am in the process of churning out fics to add for early access on a patreon page. please think of it as a tip, rather than a subscription of some sort, because everything posted on there (other than a few monster oc universe things) will eventually be posted on my blog. soon, there will be a little bit of something there for everyone (the pitt, cod, twd, animal kingdom, monsters, etc.) to enjoy! if you don't feel comfortable with this, feel free to hop on over to my ko-fi page or ignore both of them all together lol.

werewolf!pope and rick grimes are otw <3 hop on over to @minhoetaur if you wanna talk monsters <3 and remember to drink your water <3