#like do I put the warnings for the whole fic on each chapter

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: Hi everyone!! I decided to post this here too...I'm slowly going through everything I've written so far, and I want to post each chapter here as I edit them. I'm hoping that this can be a way to a) get back in to writing more, and b) get better at my art as I make full illustrations for each chapter. Let me know what you think!! :)

There is nothing quite as horrible as being a muggle, Eloise thought savagely as she ripped out yet another stitch in the landscape she was embroidering. At least, it was supposed to be a landscape. Maybe with her head tilted to the left and with her eyes almost closed so everything blurred together, it might resemble one. She did just that, trying her hardest to make out some recognizable shape and blast the stupid practice of manually pushing colored thread through a fabric in some sort of -

“And what is this, Miss Babbit?”

Eloise jumped at the sound and looked up at the scowling face of her teacher, and then quickly back down at the tangled thread in her lap. Behind her, she could hear the hushed giggles of the other girls in her class.

“Oh! Er…it’s -”

“How long have you been here?” the woman interrupted.

“One hour…I just -”

“Don’t be smart with me. I mean, at this institute.”

“Five years.” Eloise glared down at her embroidery as if it had personally offended her. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to be bad at everything, but she had the distinct disadvantage - how had it ever come to be that she would be at a disadvantage to muggles? - of not having spent a lifetime being prepared for muggle society and all that it entailed. The last five years had been a monotonous, endless cycle of lessons designed to turn her into the perfect lady: French (a waste of time as Eloise was already fluent), embroidery (a waste of time as the things she embroidered weren’t actually useful), dancing (a waste of time as she was already engaged to be married - why would she bother trying to woo another silly man?), and her most dreaded class of all: etiquette. No matter how many years had been spent trying to assimilate into muggle culture, her thoughts still got muddled when she tried to remember the steps to a dance, or how to properly address the son of a duke.

Did it really matter, anyways, what the other girls thought? She had pretended her whole life to be the daughter she thought her parents had wanted - now she was simply pretending that she hadn’t been thrown into the muggle world without a second thought. What was a bit more pretending - that she didn’t care? That she hadn’t been tossed aside without a second thought?

“Exactly. Five years. And yet, you have shown no progress whatsoever. This -” a finger jabbed accusingly at the embroidery - “is absolutely horrendous. If your parents hadn’t continued to make such a sizeable donation every year, I would have deemed you a lost cause and sent you packing when you first arrived. How your family ever managed your betrothal to the son of an earl is beyond me.”

Eloise grimaced at the mention of her fiance as her teacher clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class - a wholly unnecessary action due to the fact that it was already being given. “Class is dismissed. Please collect your belongings and put them in the correct place. Remember, as future wives and mothers, you must be organized in all aspects of your life. Many of you will be managing important households and the slightest misstep -“ a slight glance to Eloise out of the corner of her eye - “can cause the biggest of scandals.”

Eloise raced to gather her things and leave the classroom before everyone else. No matter how many years had been spent at the school, she couldn’t help but hate sitting through the classes amongst the judgmental stares and snide remarks. Although things had started out shaky at the finishing school - to be expected, really, when you’ve grown up in wizarding society and then are then forced to live as a muggle - it still stung that after all these years, she still hadn’t found a friendly face. She was treated as if she were a pariah: it was as if the other girls just knew that something was different about her. But…wasn’t that the great irony of it all? She wasn’t different than them. She was a filthy squib.

When she first arrived at the school, she was an anomaly. A twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to play the piano or who the queen was. It was clear to everyone that Eloise wasn’t the charity case of the school - her parents were obviously quite wealthy - and yet they seemingly wanted nothing to do with her. Whereas the others got regular letters and visits from their family, it was as if Eloise were an orphan. Nothing new to her of course, but to her peers this otherness aided them in her ostracization.

Upon entering her room, she was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Everything seemed the same: a twin bed perfectly made opposite a small wardrobe, a plain wooden desk placed between them. The weak afternoon sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her desk. But…there.

That…

Placed on her bed, resting on the pillow, was a letter.

She never received letters.

Eloise shoved her embroidery under her bed and hungrily grabbed at it, pausing when she saw the address. Miss E. Babbit. The Third Bedroom on the Left… It seemed vaguely familiar to her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

As she read the letter, though, it became apparent to her exactly why this was. Although not exactly the same as the one her brother had received six years earlier, it quickly became apparent that this was a Hogwarts letter. For her. For Miss E. Babbit.

Hands shaking, she set the letter down on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her hands over her skirt over and over, taking comfort in the familiar softness as she tried to even her breathing.

How was this possible? She had all but accepted the fact that she was a squib. The shame of her family, a dirty secret to be hidden away and never talked about or mentioned again. Her parents had suspected as much by the time she had turned seven without any signs of magic whatsoever manifesting around her - not even a basic transformation of brussel sprouts to sweets during dinner. It was ultimately confirmed, however, when her own Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived. She had spent the whole year before her banishment daydreaming about her life at Hogwarts, still optimistic that there could be something magical inside of her. Her brother, Leo, came home every holiday with wonderful stories of his new friends and teachers, and the subjects he was learning at school. Even back then, at twelve years old, Eloise hadn’t been sure if he was actually hopeful she wasn’t a squib, or if he had been trying to prolong the fantasy for her before it all came crashing down.

Although she had had five years to come to terms with her new life, there was still a small part of her that hoped. A small “what if…”. She had tried time and time again to squash that tiny ray of optimism that would escape every so often, tried so very hard to cultivate a hard exterior that wouldn’t let any sort of vulnerability shine through. And that optimism was a vulnerability, after all. It was that vulnerability that had made it absolutely impossible for her to fit in the muggle world, and made it so that she didn’t really want to try.

Five years to come to terms with the fact that she needed a new purpose for her life and…

…not anymore?

Eloise grabbed the letter and greedily read through it again, drinking in all of the words. She paused at the end, thinking. Was this a forgery? Some sort of awful joke orchestrated by her brother? Leo had never been cruel to her in the past; in fact, he was the one who always encouraged her and was the most probable source of the small optimism that remained within her. However, she had no way of knowing how he had changed since she had last seen him. It had been, after all, five very long years. And not once had she heard from him, even though he had promised her through huge sobbing gulps that he would never abandon her. Maybe their parents had slowly poisoned him against her. It would be right on the nose for them, after all.

Looking at the envelope again, however…Third Bedroom on the Left…no. It was too specific. Nobody in her previous life had any reason to even want to contact her again, and nobody in her current life even knew what Hogwarts was, let alone have the ability to convincingly forge a letter just to have some fun at her expense.

A light, bubbly feeling began to spread throughout her body as it sunk in that this was real. She was going to Hogwarts. Soon, a - squinting at the letter again - a Professor Fig would be contacting her and giving her things to study. A huge grin slowly spread across her face and she hugged the letter to her chest as she fell back on her bed. She read through it again. Was it the fifth time already? It felt as though no amount of times rereading the letter would ever be enough.

Eloise got up and walked over to look at the calendar on her desk. She was surprised to see that September 1st was in only two days. The days at the finishing school moved in such a strange, sluggish way. They all felt the same. Monotonous. French and Latin and embroidery and household management and Merlin even knows what else all blending into each other in an endless parade of dusty classrooms and gossip and boredom.

The light feeling left her in an instant as, after years of practice, the optimism was squashed back down. But how will you even get to London? And, her brain added sneakily, you haven’t even shown any signs of magic. Maybe you’ll just be returned back here after they realize their mistake.

No, she thought fiercely, gripping the letter. Until -

A tapping came from the window. A tentative smile returned at the sight of a tawny brown owl with another envelope in its beak. She ripped it open as soon as it was in her hands (again addressed to Miss E. Babbit) and along with the letter a small, purple pouch fell out of the envelope and onto her bed.

Miss Eloise Babbit,

I am pleased to be the wizard charged with such an important task as escorting you to Hogwarts in two days’ time. It is something extraordinary to be accepted in your fifth-year, and as such, I expect extraordinary things from you. I have enclosed a small pouch along with this envelope, and in it are some items that will be vital to you in the upcoming days. I have included books for you to study at your leisure, and a small gobstone that will bring you to our rendezvous point in London. All you have to do is touch it at noon on the 1st and you will be transported instantly.

Your family has not been informed of your acceptance. I am sure you understand why - at this, Eloise scoffed quietly to herself - which is why I will personally be your escort.

I am looking forward to meeting you and bringing you to the sorting ceremony in two days’ time.

Yours,

Eleazar Fig

The handwriting was tiny and spidery and cramped, but it didn’t stop Eloise from reading it with the same vigor as the previous letter and as many times. Finally, she turned to the small pouch that had fallen onto her bed when she opened the second envelope. It must have had an invisible extension charm, because it was filled to the brim with books on basic spellwork and general wizarding history. Professor Fig had no way of knowing, but Eloise had already read many of these books and many more during the year her brother had started Hogwarts, as she had needed to know absolutely everything about what would be awaiting her. A few years may have passed since she had stepped foot in her family’s library, but she couldn’t get the books or their contents out of her brain even if she had wanted to. She had really wanted to forget everything she knew about the magical world when it was confirmed she was a squib but it was a futile effort. As she zoned out during her piano lessons, she would find herself mentally going through the movements to cast different charms.

It was painful to be thinking about things from the life that had been ripped away from her, to know that what she was thinking about would never come to pass, that she would never be able to wield magic - and yet she couldn’t find herself able to stop.

As Eloise picked out one of the books and settled into her armchair, a steely resolve overcame her.

She would prove that she deserved to be there, and was just as capable as any of they were. She would make her parents regret ever discarding her like she was nothing.

She was worthy. She was capable. And she would prove it.

The morning of September 1st dawned cold and rainy. Absolutely perfect.

Eloise had pretended to be sick the night before, and no one had suspected a thing when she stayed in bed long after all of the other girls had gotten ready and headed to breakfast. As the last of the chattering faded away down the hallway, Eloise finally got out of bed and prepared herself for the day. It was difficult to sit still long enough to braid her hair. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling and she had to restart countless times. Finally, she tied the black ribbon at the end into a neat bow and turned to the drawer of her desk to retrieve the small purple pouch she had hidden away.

Everything she deemed important enough to come along with her had already been placed inside: the books from Professor Fig, the hair ribbons gifted to her by her brother many years ago, and some clothing. Nothing else was coming with. She needed the fresh start. Besides, anything else she might need would be supplied, as her acceptance letter had specifically stated that any school supplies would be provided to her.

Waiting the hours before noon came along proved to be more difficult than Eloise had imagined. Time seemed to be moving slower than the molasses that had come with the breakfast sent up to her, the steady patter of the rain becoming a sort of metronome keeping time as she paced back and forth. Wasn’t there anything that could distract her, even for a bit? She glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the last time. 10.35.

The second hand ticking away in tandem with the sound of rain splashing against her window.

What if this was all a trick? What if she arrived at Hogwarts, and they turned her away because they realized they had made a mistake? After all, why would they admit a sixteen-year-old? Surely she was too old; every other student had started Hogwarts at the age of twelve and had shown signs of magic much earlier than that. She still hadn’t shown any signs of magical capability whatsoever, and didn’t feel any different than she had before receiving the letter. It had to be a fluke.

As her thoughts started veering into the melancholy she was prone to, she shook her head. No. Today was a happy, exciting day. She wasn’t going to squash the optimism down today, not when she needed it most. All of these thoughts she was having were simply that: thoughts. Not reality. Hogwarts never made a mistake, and in all of the history books she had read, she couldn’t recall an instance of someone being turned away at the door. Granted, she had also never heard of someone being admitted so late. But, better to focus on what she did know, which was that she had gotten the letter. It must be right in its assumption that she had magic.

Trying to pass the time was easier said than done. She ended up quizzing herself on all of the charms she had memorized in the books sent by Professor Fig, moving an imaginary wand in the precise movements needed to successfully cast and focusing on her pronunciation. She had studied all of these forms late into both nights she had had the books, and when she would eventually close her eyes to sleep, the wand movements were all she saw.

Eloise was determined that she would receive pity from nobody. Nobody was going to look at her like she was lacking. She had gotten enough of that to last a lifetime, and now that she was given this opportunity she wasn’t about to waste it.

When noon finally struck, Eloise was ready and waiting. She eagerly grabbed the gobstone that was sitting on her desk and felt the familiar tugging sensation in her navel as she was whisked away to London and the beginning of her new life.

next chapter

[ja3yun]

I'm a Virgin, Not a Murderer | Finale: If You Jump...

virgin!heeseung x sex worker!reader warnings: smut (mdni), loss of virginity (finally), unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, mentions of anxiety, character death, blood, guns and violence, chase scenes, heartbreaking if you care about ynhee w.c: 18.4k finale synopsis: it's the end of the road for you, using up all your nine lives and ending your journey with confessions, hand holds, and heeseung finally popping his cherry. a/n: hi! it's finally the end of the series. personally, i have loved this fic with my whole chest and i'm glad for the love it has received. i hope this ending is up to your expectations because i spent a lot of time on it, making sure it was fulfilling even with the...ending :) hope you all enjoy! as always, reblogs, comments, likes, feedback are all welcome

chapter 3 | masterlist | END

“Don’t fucking move,” a gravelly voice from behind him menacingly says in a low tone. Heeseung feels what he can only suspect is a gun aimed towards his head, the barrel pressing coolly against his skin. The sensation is chilling yet alarming, sending an icy shiver down his spine. His body reacts to the peril, heat surging through him as adrenaline courses through his veins. 

Heeseung's heart pounds erratically in his chest, each beat echoing like a drum in his ears. His breath quickens, the air feeling thick and oppressive, suffused with tension. He risks a glance at you, standing just a few feet away, your eyes wide with terror and confusion. The sight of your fear ignites a fierce protectiveness within him, but he is acutely aware of the danger you both are in.

The gunman's presence is oppressive, his grip on the weapon steady and unforgiving. Heeseung can sense the man's breath on the back of his neck, hot and acrid, mingling with the cold metal of the gun. Every instinct within Heeseung screams at him to act, to somehow disarm the assailant and ensure your safety, but he knows that any sudden movement could provoke a fatal reaction.

Instead, he slowly puts his hands up, surrendering to the threat. “I’m just moving to the side, okay?” he tries to barter with the man like he has any hand in this game. He’s not equipped for being held at gunpoint, knives sure, you come across boys wielding them all over London, but never a gun. His inexperience is hindering him greatly in all aspects of life.

With a grunt from the man behind him, Heeseung takes a small step to the left, his eyes never leaving yours. He’s trying to communicate with you to run, to get as far away from this sudden danger as possible, yet you don’t move, shaking your head due to your own fear-ridden mind.

You’re transfixed with a wave of fear, the man finally coming into your peripheral as Heeseung moves away from you. The last thing you want right now is to be away from the boy you’ve grown so attached to, so seeing him silently beg you to leave him doesn’t register, the thought of ditching him never crossing your mind.

The man pokes his gun harshly against Heeseung’s head once more. “Turn around. Slowly.” The demand is met as Heeseung takes small, slow steps to face the aggressor. What he expects to see is a policeman, finally catching up to you both, ruining the chase-turned-honeymoon and capturing you like rabbits in a trap.

Despite the open air of the abandoned theme park, you can’t help but feel claustrophobic, the wind suddenly turning into ropes as it ties around your throat, rendering you breathless and without words as you come face to face with the man.

Before you is none other than the Brixton killer, the man who brutally murdered an innocent shopkeeper and policeman. The scene was horrific, stabbing the worker 28 times all over his chest and abdomen, and somehow stealing the arriving police officer’s gun and shooting him in the eye. He was sentenced to prison for life without chance of parole, yet after an elaborate escape plan, here he stands in front of you.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” he asks, a grimace twisting his face as though you were ransacking his home of treasure.

Heeseung swallows hard, looking him dead in the eye. “Just…enjoying the sights,” he tries to joke, and you curse him with all the names under the sun for not reading the situation in front of him.

“Don’t get smart with me, who sent you?” the man waves the threatening pistol between Heeseung’s eyes, causing the boy to clamp shut. Sometimes he has a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and unfortunately, this is one of those times.

He doesn’t think he has ever been this nervous or anxiety-induced in his entire life, he misses when his biggest problem was an intact V-card and handing in his dissertation.

“N-no one sent us, Sir, we swear! We just stumbled upon this place and I wanted to take a look, that’s all,” your voice is attempting to stay level but some cracks are seeping through as you fight your composure.

“Tell me the truth or I blow your boyfriend’s brains out,” he threatens, the gun pressed firmly against Heeseung’s forehead. The man is not playing around; his eyes radiate cold determination, underscoring the seriousness of his ultimatum.

You shake your head violently, eyes wide enough for the chilling wind to swoop in and create tears in your ducts. “No! No, no, no. I swear, I promise I’m telling the truth.” Full-blown panic fuels your words, your hands trembling as you hold them out in a desperate, prayer-like gesture.

It hits you that Heeseung’s life is in danger because of you. You detoured your plans all because you wanted to visit this rundown park, landing you both in the middle of a one-sided standoff. The responsibility for whatever happens now weighs heavily on your shoulders. This is just like the hotel all over again; you brought trouble to Heeseung’s door because you didn’t think. You are the reason Heeseung is running away.

You have to fix this, you have to save him.

“Please, we accidentally killed a man and now we’re on the run. I made the call to get off the bus to Troon, and that’s how we ended up here, because I wanted to see the park. Please, don’t kill him. Please, I will do anything you ask, just please don’t kill him.”

You lose track of how many times you say please, begging the man to hear your truthful side of the story. The instilled panic causes you to ramble, spewing any words that might convince the man to lower his gun and ensure Heeseung’s safety, even for a few minutes. You're so close to dropping to your knees and praying to the angels above to answer your cries.

Heeseung’s face is a mixture of shock and anguish as he listens to you. His eyes dart between you and the gunman, his mind racing to find a way out. The Brixton killer’s expression hardens, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. The grip on the gun remains steady, but there’s a momentary hesitation. He doesn’t lower the weapon, but the intensity in his eyes dims slightly.

The silence stretches, taut and suffocating. Heeseung’s hand twitches as if he wants to reach out to you, to pull you into safety. But he remains still, every muscle tensed, knowing that any rash action could end in disaster.

“You want me to believe that you and Ken over here killed someone?” He flicks his gun at you for only a moment, not believing you to be a threat. Why should he? You’re two 22-year-olds who got scared of a haunted house and almost had sex in a love tunnel while on the run from police; you’re hardly Bonnie and Clyde.

Heeseung nods slowly. “It’s true, It was an accident but now the police are after us-”

"The police? You brought the fucking police here?" The murderer tenses up again, any lapse in focus gone as he stands straight, staring at both of you with enmity and dread. “I’ve been hiding here for a week. I am not letting you little fuckers get me caught.”

His anger is palpable, his face growing redder by the second. You wish Heeseung would shut the fuck up for a moment. You cherish the boy so much and usually value anything he has to say, but he’s turning into a liability in the face of death.

You bring the man’s attention back to you, hoping to calm him again. “No, no one followed us. They have no idea where we are. We’ve been roaming the borders to keep ourselves on the down low.” Your explanation is feeble and lacks real substance, offering little reassurance of your anonymity with the police.

He assesses you, eyes narrowing as he scrutinises your features. With emotions swirling in your brain, you probably look deranged, eyes wild with threatening tears and jaw clenched tightly. Stepping closer, he moves the gun from Heeseung’s head – much to your relief – and taps his chin with it, as if trying to place where he’s seen you before. The expression of reminiscence on his face is unnerving. You’d think he could have been one of your customers, but that’s impossible. So, you meet his gaze with wary curiosity.

He sucks his teeth before nodding, as if reaching a conclusion. “You’re the motel murderer,” he smirks, his eyes losing some of their anger, replaced by something unsettling. Whatever is going through his mind, you’re thankful because he lowers his guard slightly. His grip on the gun loosens and he pouts in amusement. Both you and Heeseung let out shaky breaths, relieved as the man flicks the safety back on the pistol. Yet, you’re not out of the woods.

“You know,” he begins, tilting his head mockingly, “the news is calling you the Black Widow.” His comment stuns you, freezing the breath in your lungs. Heeseung glances at you with wide eyes, a mix of confusion and curiosity. You blink, trying to process the killer’s words. Black Widow. Why are they calling you that?

Sensing your bewilderment, the murderer continues. “They don’t believe angel face over here is still alive,” he mutters casually, pointing to Heeseung, whose expression mirrors your horror. “Papers are saying you must have forced him to kill for you and then you ate him right up.”

“That’s not true!” Heeseung exclaims, shaking his head vehemently.

“Well, clearly,” the man rolls his eyes in annoyance, looking Heeseung over. “You’ve got people defending you, saying you’re just an innocent lamb that got gobbled up by the big bad wolf.”

Goosebumps form on your skin as he drags out the second unappreciated nickname for you. You knew this would happen. A virgin with a clean track record gets involved with a sex worker and suddenly he’s part of a crime. The inevitability of being blamed for everything sinks your heart into your stomach, the acid churning with anxiety.

You couldn’t imagine hurting Heeseung now. The accusations that you coerced him into murder and then devoured him are preposterous. You’re just a girl trying to make some money and survive, not a conniving murderer.

But what you both don’t know is that back home, Heeseung’s family is defending his name, speaking praises and clearing his name quickly. Meanwhile, you have no one. Neither your brother nor your father has spoken up for you despite everything you’ve done for them. Sure, your brother is estranged and your dad would rather call you a whore to the neighbours than speak to you, but you’d hoped they knew you well enough to believe you wouldn’t murder a man and kidnap another.

The man snarls in amusement, looking back at you. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if her plan was just that. Bring you here and kill you off on one of these rides.” He directs his gaze at Heeseung, but his sly grin is for you, indicating he’s playing a game you don’t know the rules for.

Tearing your eyes away from the man, your pupils widen with urgency and desperation. “Heeseung, I wouldn’t...”

“I know,” he replies instantly, not giving you a second to explain. He knows you better than anyone now. In the two weeks you’ve been tied to each other like handcuffs, learning everything there is to know about one another, Heeseung knows you wouldn’t hurt anyone unless you had to, let alone kill him for fun, which is what this man is suggesting.

The connection you two share is pure and real, and Heeseung will be damned if he ever thought otherwise.

Heeseung’s reassurance gives you a fleeting moment of comfort, but it is quickly shattered as the killer moves in closer. The distance between you evaporates, his presence suffocating. Heeseung’s eyes widen with fear as the man raises the gun, pressing it under your chin. The cold metal sends shivers down your spine, and you instinctively freeze, every nerve in your body on high alert.

“You know,” he drawls, his voice low and menacing, “there's a reward out for you. I wonder how much I could get off my sentence for bringing you in.” His breath is hot against your face, the smell of tobacco and stale beer nauseatingly close.

The proximity is unsettling, his eyes boring into yours with a predatory gleam. You can feel the tension in his grip, the gun pressing harder into your skin. Heeseung's face is a mixture of horror and helplessness, his hands twitching as if he wants to do something, anything, to get you out of this situation

“You must think you're something special,” the man continues, his voice dripping with contempt. “Running around, causing chaos, thinking you’re untouchable. But you're not. You're just a scared little girl who got in way over her head.”

Heeseung clenches his fists, the knuckles turning white. There's a fire igniting within him, a fierce determination to protect you no matter the cost. His mind races, evaluating the situation with the precision of someone fighting for survival. He watches the man closely, noting every detail: the way he sneers, the way his eyes flicker with malicious glee, and crucially, the fact that he hasn’t disengaged the safety on his gun.

The thought strikes Heeseung like a bolt of lightning. The man, in his arrogance, hasn’t realised the gun isn’t ready to fire. This oversight could be their only chance. Heeseung's eyes dart to you, his heart aching at the sight of you trembling, the gun pressing into your chin. He knows he has to act fast and decisively to get the brute away from you.

Gathering every ounce of courage, Heeseung shifts his weight subtly, preparing himself. His mind hones in on the plan, focusing on the back of the man’s leg. If he can just create enough of a distraction, enough of an opening, you might have a chance to escape. The killer’s attention is entirely on you, his grip on the gun tightening as he revels in his perceived power.

n one swift motion, Heeseung lunges forward and stomps down hard on the back of the man’s leg. The brute lets out a guttural shout of pain and surprise, his grip on the gun faltering. The force of Heeseung's attack sends the man stumbling backward. The sudden movement breaks his focus, and his eyes widen in shock.

You let out a breath, one you’ve been holding in since the gun was pointed at you. However, you don’t get the chance to enjoy the air as Heeseung pulls you into a tight embrace, pressing your head against his chest. His lips brush the top of your head in a tender kiss, a silent prayer of gratitude that your brain is intact and not splattered over the gravel.

The moment of relief is fleeting.

“You little shit!” the man exclaims, abruptly finding his feet and injecting a fresh wave of panic into you and Heeseung. The sheer venom in his voice sends shivers down your spine. You clutch Heeseung tighter, your fingers digging into his shirt as fear courses through you.

Before you can react, Heeseung pushes you behind him, positioning himself as a shield. The brute charges at you both, his face contorted with rage. Everything happens in a blur—there's a sickening thud, and you see the man’s gun raised high before coming down with brutal force. Heeseung tries to block the blow, but the gun's butt slams into his temple with a sickening crack.

“Heeseung!” you scream, the sound tearing from your throat as Heeseung crumples to the ground. The world narrows to the sight of him collapsing, blood trickling down the side of his face. Your heart pounds wildly, a mix of fear, anger, and helplessness overwhelming you.

“It’s Evan,” he replies, wincing as he struggles to hold up his head from the ground. The fact that Heeseung’s main concern is keeping his persona must either mean the gun rendered him dumb or he was already stupid to begin with. You hate to say it’s the latter.

You huff and stomp your feet. “Now is not the time, Hee!” you shout at him, frustration and fear mingling in your voice.

The man’s eyes narrow, his patience wearing thin. “Shut the fuck up!” he yells, waving the gun wildly between the two of you. His face is twisted in rage, eyes glinting with murderous intent.

Just as the tension reaches its peak, a distant sound pierces the air - a siren, faint but unmistakable, growing louder with each passing second. The sudden intrusion sends a shockwave of panic through all of you. The man’s eyes widen in fear and anger, the threat of capture looming over him.

The man’s face contorts with fury and desperation. He knows his time is running out. He points the gun erratically, his movements becoming more frantic. “I’ll get you cunts, I swear on it!” he snarls, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and fear.

He takes a step back, his eyes darting around as he tries to figure out his next move. The sirens grow louder, closer, the promise of prison mingling with the fear of what the man might do next. Your heart races, every second stretching into an eternity as you watch the man’s indecision.

The man takes another step back, his gaze flickering between you, Heeseung, and the approaching sirens. The conflict in his eyes is evident - he wants to finish what he started, but the looming threat of the police forces him to reconsider. With a final spit, he turns and runs, disappearing into the shadows of the park.

Heeseung groans, struggling to sit up, his face pale and bloodied. You kneel beside him, your hands trembling as you touch his face gently. “Heeseung, we need to get out of here,” you plead, your voice breaking. “Please, can you stand?”

Nodding, he holds onto your forearms, seeking comfort in your skin. You quickly wipe away some of the blood trickling into his eyes, the warm liquid smearing across your fingers and rendering your lungs useless as you forget to breathe for a moment. The sirens sound imminent now, a cacophony of urgent wails cutting through the air. Heeseung’s brain feels like it’s thumping against his skull, a sharp, persistent pain stinging behind his eyes from the blow.

“We have to go,” you whisper urgently, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. “Come on, Heeseung, we have to move.”

With a Herculean effort, Heeseung pushes himself to his feet, leaning heavily on you for support. You wrap an arm around his waist, feeling the tension in his muscles as he fights through the pain. Heeseung's steps are shaky, and his centre of gravity sways as he tries to centre himself. His eyes are unfocused, struggling to stay open, but he forces himself to move forward,

You clutch his hand tightly, your grip a lifeline as you guide him away from the scene. The abandoned theme park stretches out like a maze, shadows from the sunset twisting into sinister shapes. The fear gnaws at you, but you push it down, focusing on the need to get Heeseung to safety. Each step feels like an eternity, the weight of the moment pressing down on you both.

Glancing back, you see Heeseung wobble slightly. Your heart clenches with worry. “Are you okay?” you ask, your voice a whisper in the darkness. Heeseung nods weakly, trying to give you a reassuring smile, but the pain etched on his face betrays him.

You lead him through the overgrown paths, the weeds and debris crunching beneath your hurried footsteps. The flashing lights from the police cars cast eerie shadows across the dilapidated structures. You can’t afford to be seen. Not now, not when you’re so close to getting away. If this journey was all to end now, what would it be for?

Every few steps, you glance back, checking on Heeseung. His breaths come in ragged gasps, his face slick with sweat and blood. But he doesn’t complain. He just keeps moving, driven by the same determination that fuels you. You take a sharp turn, ducking behind a rusted old carousel. The horses’ faded eyes seem to watch you, silent witnesses to your desperate escape.

You pause for a moment, catching your breath and listening intently. The cars stop outside the main gate, but the park’s labyrinthine layout works in your favour, muffling the sounds and creating a confusing echo. You look at Heeseung, your heart aching at the sight of his battered face. “We’re almost there,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

Luckily, there is an old gate that leads to the forest just behind Joyland, your one-way ticket out of here. Running up to it, you see it has a rusty lock that has seen better days, making it an easy break. There is no time to waste, so you quickly kick the lock, mustering up every ounce of force you have.

“Y/N, watch yourself,” the injured boy groans behind you, his hand holding onto the wound to compress it. He feels like he wants to vomit, the paleness of his skin and the shaking of his fingers evidencing this. He is trying so hard not to pass out, knowing that you both just have to find somewhere to hide, somewhere safe.

Despite being the one in immense pain, he is looking out for you once again and it only spurs you on further to get the door open. “I almost got it,” you inform him, giving the bent metal one final kick before it snaps in half and the door swings open.

You take Heeseung’s hand and pull him through the gate, the dense forest swallowing you both in an embrace of dim sunlight. The sounds of the sirens are muted now, the thick trees and underbrush acting as a natural sound barrier. You hold Heeseung’s hand tightly, your fingers interlaced, guiding him through the uneven terrain.

Every step is a struggle for him, his breathing ragged and laboured. You glance back frequently, your eyes filled with worry, watching for any sign that he might collapse. His face is a mask of pain, but he pushes on, driven by sheer willpower. The forest is a maze of twisted branches and overgrown paths, but you press forward, determined to find a place to hide; at this point you’ll take anything - a hollowed-out tree, a dip in the ground, even that evil witch’s gingerbread house from Hansel and Gretel. 

The sun is beginning its descent, casting long, eerie shadows through the trees. The forest is painted in hues of orange and gold, a beautiful but haunting backdrop to your desperate escape. Your heart pounds in your chest, the adrenaline keeping you moving. Each rustle of leaves, each crack of a twig underfoot sends a jolt of fear through you. You know the police are close, their searchlights sweeping the park behind you. The urgency of your situation drives you on, every muscle in your body aching with the effort.

After what feels like an eternity, you spot a faint object through the trees. Relief floods through you, and you squeeze Heeseung’s hand, urging him forward. “There,” you gasp, pointing towards a cottage house. “We can hide there.”

Heeseung nods weakly, his legs barely supporting him, causing him to let go of your hand and collapse to the ground. The sudden disappearance of his hand in yours sparks alarm bells, and you quickly turn around, eyes wide with panic as you see him on his knees, clutching at his injury. The pain is evident on his face, the vibrations from the blow shaking his entire skull.

“Fuck! Heeseung,” you exclaim, your voice trembling as you bend down to lift his head up, your fingers gently brushing the blood away from his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Heeseung’s eyes flutter open, unfocused and filled with pain. Slowly and unenthusiastically, he shakes his head. “Please, Y/N, go on without me,” he groans, his voice barely above a whisper. Each word seems to cost him immense effort, and you can see the desperation in his eyes but it’s also followed by a gleam of amusement, following the script of so many movies he has watched.

You roll your eyes at his dramatic performance, trying to inject a bit of lightness into the dire situation. “Baby, don’t be so dramatic,” you chide gently, your voice laced with both urgency and affection, the nickname slipping out by accident. “Move those long legs of yours, please.”

Heeseungs eyes widen for a slit second, a large, comical smile on his face. “Baby? I’m your baby?” he asks, the head injury obviously causing him some sort of disillusionment.  

Despite the fear gnawing at your insides, you muster a small smile, hoping to give him some strength. “You can be my baby if you move,” the tone of your voice is a warning sense of playfulness but seems to do the job, Heeseung moving his body with more chutzpah.

You crouch down beside him, slipping your arm around his waist to help him up. Heeseung leans heavily against you, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He can feel your warmth, and the concern in your eyes gives him a flicker of strength. Despite his pain and slightly concussed joking, he’s determined not to let you down.

The cottage is void of cars in the driveway, much to your relief, and you take it as a good sign that no one will be home. It’s an educated guess considering you’re in the middle of piss-pot nowhere and they certainly aren’t catching the bus to work; if there are no cars, it equates to no one being home.

You hope.

Reaching the entrance, you quickly glance in the windows, just to double-check the vacancy of the property. With all the lights off and no sight of a guard dog, you can begin your search for a way in. The oppressive silence and stillness of the house suggest it has been unoccupied for some time.

“Heeseung, just wait there,” you say softly before running up the front steps. The steps are lined with an array of flowerpots, leading you to the entrance door. If movies have taught you anything, it’s that people are often foolish enough to leave keys under pots for emergencies. Frankly, you have never understood this practice yourself; it’s so cliché that if they did do it, robbers had every right to exploit their naivety.

You begin searching under the pots of sunflowers and peonies, feeling the rough terracotta and cool soil on your fingertips. Suddenly, you stumble across a singular gold key. In this moment, it might as well be Blackbeard’s treasure. The key gleams in the fading sunlight as you pick it up, waving it in front of Heeseung triumphantly.

However, instead of relief, Heeseung looks concerned through all his pain. “Y/N, we can’t just go in,” he argues, his moral compass inconveniently emerging at the worst possible time. The boy is bleeding with the police hot on his tail, and he’s worried about trespassing on the property of some affluent vacationers.

“We have to, Heeseung. You’re in a bad way, and the police will be scouring the woods as we speak. Can you just set aside your good heart for a second?” Your words are both careful and harsh, attempting to convey the severity of the situation. There isn’t time to debate the ethics of breaking and entering.

He concedes, gesturing with his hand for you to open the door, his face contorted in pain. You slide the key into the lock and swing the door open, beckoning Heeseung inside.

The interior is cold despite the summer weather. A thin layer of dust covers everything, a good sign indicating that the house has been unoccupied for some time. The foyer is quintessentially British, with tiled floors in mossy green hues and a staircase to your right, featuring a vintage wooden bannister and carpeted steps. The walls are adorned with magnolia panelling, decorated with oak-framed pictures of flowers and their meanings. An un-vacuumed Turkish rug lies on the floor, its colours dulled over time.

Heeseung makes it up the stairs, leaning on your shoulder as you admire the space. If he wasn’t concussed, he might share in your awe of the place, but right now he just needs to sit down and take some painkillers.

You lead him down the hall into a sitting room. The room is inviting and comforting, resembling your gran’s house before she passed away. Heeseung follows your guidance and sits on the couch’s armrest, taking the much-needed weight off his legs and focusing all his energy on holding his head. The bleeding has stopped somewhat, but the battering of his brain against his cranium is the real danger.

“I’m going to find some painkillers and ice. Please don’t die while I’m gone,” you joke, but your eyes reveal your seriousness.

As you head to find the bathroom, your heart pounds with anxiety. You come across a door under the stairs and open it, revealing a tiny cubicle with a toilet, sink, and a mirrored cabinet. With a flicker of hope, you reach for the cabinet, praying it holds the answer to your problems.

Unfortunately, you catch a glimpse in the mirror which reflects a sight you wish you hadn’t seen: your bangs are askew, your eyes bloodshot from stress and holding back tears, and your lips cracked from dryness. You knew the disguise would change your appearance but somehow the experience is changing you from the inside. You have never been bright and chirpy but you have never looked so dull, as though the life is being vacuumed out of you. 

Ignoring your reflection to focus on the real cause of concern, you rummage through the cabinet, your hands trembling. Finally, you find a blister pack of co-codamol amidst the old perfume bottles and bandages. The sight of it brings a wave of relief, knowing that these tiny white pills can begin the mending process.

Clutching the co-codamol tightly, you rush to find the kitchen, your footsteps echoing in the empty house. Each step feels like an eternity, your mind racing with worry for Heeseung and the fear of being caught, after all there is still a chance the police or homeowners could walk through the door any second. 

Entering the kitchen, you are struck by its quaint, rustic charm, with wooden cabinets and a checkered floor. The warm, homey feel of the room is almost jarring given your frantic state.

You fling open the freezer, desperate for ice, but there’s none. A pang of frustration hits you, but you quickly grab a bag of frozen peas, feeling their coldness through the plastic. Wrapping the peas in a tea towel, you focus on the task at hand, trying to steady your breathing. The sense of urgency is overwhelming, your mind filled with images of Heeseung's pained expression and the ever-looming threat of the police.

You fill a glass with water from the tap, watching the clear liquid swirl and fill the glass to the brim. The simple act of filling a glass feels almost surreal amidst the chaos, a brief moment of calm as the water trickles in. It’s a small respite, the sound of the water soothing your frazzled nerves even if just for a moment.

Returning to the sitting room, you find Heeseung still clutching his head. Your heart aches to see him in such agony. You hand him the co-codamol and the glass of water, your eyes filled with concern. “Take these,” you say softly. “And here’s something cold for your head.” You gently place the makeshift ice pack on his forehead, watching as he relaxes slightly under the cool pressure.

Like a mother making sure her child eats vegetables, you watch Heeseung swallow the pills with ease, desperate for the relief they will provide. The cold, crisp taste of water glides down Heeseung’s throat as he downs the glass, thankful for the quench in his thirst. In another life, he might be physically able to run a marathon, but in this one, he’d much rather stick to playing video games and leave running to the professionals.

Slowly, you take the ice pack from his head, the tea towel now embellished with his dark red blood. The wound isn’t too deep despite the blood pouring out; you could easily patch it up with some gauze and plasters.

“I’m going to get the first aid kit. I think I saw one in the kitchen,” you explain while handing him back the makeshift ice pack.

As you return to the kitchen, your emotions surge. The stress of the day, the fear of getting caught, and the concern for Heeseung all swirl within you. The quaint charm of the kitchen feels oddly juxtaposed with the turmoil in your heart. You glance up at the open cupboards and see the dark green box with the white cross on the high shelf, allowing you to let out a small sigh of relief.

Reaching for it, you accidentally knock over a ceramic mug, the crash echoing through the empty house. Your heart skips a beat, your nerves on edge. You freeze, listening intently for any signs that the noise might have somehow alerted someone of you and Heeseung’s presence, as if the fact that they would magically appear. After a tense moment of silence, you grab the first aid kit and hurry back to Heeseung.

You find him where you left him, his eyes closed as he tries to manage the pain. Standing in front of him, you open the kit and lay out the supplies on a side table which holds home to a lamp and a forgotten ashtray. The sight of the sterile bandages and antiseptic wipes brings a sense of purpose, a clear task to focus on.

Ripping open the wipe, you reach to bring Heeseung’s hand, which holds the compress, away from his head and take it from him. “This might sting a little,” you warn him as you carefully clean the wound to stop infection. Heeseung winces but never complains, knowing the more he fights it, the longer it is prolonged.

You work quickly but gently, still focusing on not applying too much pressure in case you aggravate it further. Heeseung’s eyes are focused on your face, causing you to become slightly flustered. The idea of someone watching you do something suddenly makes the task ten times harder to achieve. Your heart races, a mix of concentration and self-consciousness, the weight of his gaze adding an unexpected layer of intensity to the moment.

Heeseung smiles softly as he trains himself on you, his hands settling on your waist and pulling you closer to him. It might be the pills or the fuzziness from the head injury, but he suddenly doesn’t feel anxious to initiate the first move; it could also be that his head was between your legs earlier today.

The touch of his large hands on your waist and the feeling of his thumb stroking your hips pauses your movements, the butterflies in your chest being the only thing you can focus on. The room is silent except for the faint ticking of an old clock on the wall, each second stretching into an eternity.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble that sends a cluster of goosebumps over your neck and arms. His gratitude is sincere, but it brings a pang of guilt to your heart.

“Don’t thank me,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “All of this is my fault.” The weight of your words hangs in the air, a heavy cloud of regret and self-reproach.

Heeseung’s grip on your waist tightens slightly as he pulls you even closer, his hands steadying you. He cradles your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear that you hadn’t realised had fallen. “No, it’s not,” he says firmly, shaking his head. His touch is gentle, his eyes filled with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “None of this is your fault.”

The room around you fades away; the only thing that exists is the space between you and Heeseung. You apply a sterile gauze pad, securing it with medical tape. Your fingers brush against his skin, sending a jolt through both of you. Every touch, every movement, feels charged with electricity, the air between you vibrating with unspoken tension.

Although Heeseung’s words should inject some reassurance into your conscience, you can’t help but think about what the media is saying about you. The thought of being labelled the "Brixton Killer" adds a whole new layer to the guilt that sits at the forefront of your mind.

Heeseung can see your mind leaping over all his affirmations like a horse at the national, causing him to pout and grab your chin. “No.”

“No?” you ask quizzically.

“No. Your brain is telling you something that isn’t true. Whatever you think you should feel guilty for, just know that you shouldn’t.”

Sucking in your bottom lip and tensing your jaw, you try your hardest to clean the blood up, hands shaking as you place the gauze on his wound and seal it tightly with medical tape. It’s hard to believe him when you’re looking at an open wound, the butterfly effect of your client attacking you.

“Hey,” he whispers, his voice a perfect harmony of pain and something deeper. Taking the medical supplies from your hand, he discards them to the side before intertwining his fingers with yours. “You’re not to blame for any of this. I have told you this a million times, and I’ll tell you a million more. You and me are in this together.”

His words hang in the air, a solemn promise that cuts through your self-doubt. Before you can respond, Heeseung leans in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss is gentle, a delicate reassurance that punctuates his sentences. It’s a kiss that says more than words ever could, a tender moment that steals away your fears and replaces them with a warmth that spreads through your chest.

When he pulls back, your thoughts are momentarily silenced by the softness of his kiss. “You know, you’re a good kisser,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the gravity of the situation.

Heeseung chuckles, the sound light and comforting. “I had a good teacher,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. He has come a long way from first meeting you and he can’t thank you enough for never ridiculing him, showing him soft bouts of affection and lust that have helped him become stronger and more courageous to do what he wants.

You laugh, the tension easing from your shoulders. “You’re ridiculous.” His attempts to shift the mood from depressing to comfortable working instantly.

“Maybe,” he admits, squeezing your hand gently. “But if I can make you smile, it’s worth it.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, the weight of your guilt and fear lifting slightly. The warmth of his touch, the softness of his kiss, and the sincerity in his eyes all work together to create a cocoon of safety.

Placing a final peck on your lips, Heeseung stands up and towers over you once again. “Do you think it’s safe to stay here? Just for tonight?” he asks with genuine curiosity, already hoping you’ll give him the much-desired answer of ‘yes’.

But the truth is, you don’t know. If you found this place easily, then the police could find it in an instant. There are so many traces of you that you’ve left behind: the bags on the bus, footprints in the mud and leaves, and also Heeseung’s blood at the park. If they really wanted to find you, they could.

Yet, as you look into Heeseung’s sparkling eyes, the ones that are thinking about a warm bed to spend the night in, you don’t have the heart to be honest. So you do what you think is best and fluff the question. “I think, yeah, we can, as long as we stay on alert.”

Agreeing, Heeseung smiles down at you, his joints already celebrating the prospect of a clean bed to lay on. “We’ll keep an ear out, but right now, all I want is to lie down.”

He takes your hand, pulling you gently upstairs, his steps cautious yet eager. The wooden stairs creak softly under your weight, each step resonating in the quiet house. As you reach the top, you find yourselves in a narrow hallway adorned with faded family photos and antique furniture. The atmosphere is homely and lived-in, the kind of place that feels like it has been loved and cared for over many years.

Heeseung pushes open the first door on the right, revealing a cosy bedroom. The room is small but inviting, with a large bed covered in a patchwork quilt, flanked by mismatched nightstands. The wallpaper, though slightly peeling in places, features delicate floral patterns that add to the room’s calm aesthetic. A well-worn armchair sits in one corner, next to a small bookshelf filled with old, dog-eared paperbacks.

“This will do,” Heeseung says with a contented sigh, letting go of your hand to sit on the edge of the bed. He bounces slightly, testing the mattress, and his face lights up with approval. “Oh, fuck yeah, this will definitely do.” He feels like Goldilocks when she finds the children’s bed, claiming it as her own.

“I’m going to shower,” you tell him, needing a moment to yourself. The events of the day have left you feeling grimy and in desperate need of some semblance of normalcy. Each time you’ve snuck into a motel the shower has been all but appealing with dirty water and rust; this is your chance to take a long, well-earned shower with hopefully some fancy soaps. 

You begin rummaging through the drawers of an old dresser in the corner, hoping to find something to wear for the night. To your surprise, among the neatly folded clothes, you find a set of lingerie, delicate and decidedly out of place in such a homely setting. The white silky fabric and intricate lace make it clear that this was a special purchase, perhaps a forgotten remnant of a romantic getaway. You search through the drawers again, but it seems to be the only sleepwear available.

You hold up the lingerie, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected find. Heeseung glances over, curiosity piqued by your hesitation. “What’s that?” he asks, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he sees the garment.

“Apparently, this is all they have for pyjamas,” you reply, your tone laced with amusement.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in actual pyjamas before, it’s like the world just wants you naked all the time.” The comment causes you both to laugh, each chuckle echoing along the patterned walls.

Turning to him, you cross your arms and arch a brow. “I think you are the only man to complain about it,” you snicker, jesting him with a slight punch of feigned hurt.

Your response makes Heeseung’s face drop, his eyelids expanding in horror. “No, no. Trust me, I’ll never complain about it. It’s just funny how it always happens like this.” His voice is earnest, and it’s cute how quickly he defends himself, scared to offend you in any way.

Waving him off, you turn back and shut the drawer, walking over to the ensuite toilet.

The bathroom is small but functional, with a clawfoot tub and a pedestal sink. The tiles are cool underfoot, and you quickly strip out of your dirty clothes, turning on the water and waiting for it to warm up. As you step under the stream, the hot water cascades over you, washing away the grime and stress of the day. You close your eyes, letting the soothing sensation calm your racing thoughts.

Back in the bedroom, Heeseung is changing into some boxers he has managed to find. They are the complete opposite of your sexy two-piece. Instead, his borrowed pyjamas are bright blue, adorned with Homer Simpson’s face and Duff beer cans. He wonders who on earth would ever purchase these never mind wear them. 

As he settles into the bed, the world outside seems distant, the immediate crisis giving way to a fragile peace. The relief from the co-codomol and the springy mattress help him alleviate some of his pain.

Heeseung reaches for the remote control on the nightstand and switches on the TV. The soft glow of the screen illuminates the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls. He flips through the channels aimlessly, searching for something to distract you both from the day's events. Just as he’s about to turn it off, a familiar face appears on the screen, stopping him cold.

It’s Jongseong, sitting in what looks like a studio set-up for a news interview. The lower third of the screen reads, "Friend of Fugitive Lee Heeseung, Park Jongseong, Speaks."

Heeseung’s breath catches in his throat, and he feels the tension ripple through his body. His eyes are glued to the screen, his expression a mix of surprise, fear, and a deep, aching sadness. 

“Jongseong?” he whispers, barely audible. He misses his best friend so much that even seeing him through the television is enough to have his soul shiver in sadness. It was one thing to think about him, it’s another to see him.

On the screen, Jongseong looks tired and worn, dark circles under his eyes betraying his sleepless nights. Heeseung can’t imagine the stress this whole situation has caused his best friend, everyone in the entire scheme knowing about their lifelong bond. Jongseong must have endured so much scrutiny once the news broke out. 

He takes a deep breath before speaking, his voice steady but heavy with emotion. “I’ve known Heeseung for all of my life,” Jongseong begins, his gaze unwavering as he faces the camera. “He’s not a criminal. He’s the most kind-hearted, loyal, and genuine person I’ve ever met. Anyone who truly knows him would say the same.”

Heeseung’s eyes well up with tears, the raw vulnerability in Jongseong’s words piercing through his defences. He swallows hard, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. This must be what the man that held him at gunpoint meant; his friends and family fighting to tell the world that he isn’t a murderer.

Jongseong continues, his voice cracking slightly. “I miss him. Every day that he’s gone, it feels like a part of me is missing too. If he’s out there, if he can hear this, I want him to know that he’s not alone. We’re all here, waiting for him to come home. And we know... we all know that Y/N is the cause of this.” The refusal to believe he is dead evident in his tone.

In that last sentence, Heeseung’s chest feels like a boulder is being pressed onto it, the air escaping his lungs despite just taking a deep breath. He can’t believe your beautiful name just fell from Jongseong’s lips with such disgust. He feels nauseous that it is his family who are tarnishing your name, giving the media their headlines and false accusations.

You have no one sticking up for you so you’re being painted as this venomous spider that prays on men without so much as a second glance. And yet, you couldn’t have a bigger heart if you tried.

The care you have given Heeseung, the cosmic connection between you is enough to solidify his thoughts. Just as it was back at the theme park, he doesn’t believe any bad word about you, and he’ll be damned if he starts now. You aren’t going to kill him, you aren’t going to betray him, and you certainly aren’t a criminal mastermind who plots murder.

“I don’t believe for a second that Heeseung is guilty of anything other than being dragged along in a scheme,” Jongseong says, his voice gaining strength. “Heeseung, if you’re listening, please come back. If you turn her in then all of this can be over. We miss you, and we need you. I need you.”

The news moves on swiftly to the next article but it isn’t so easy for Heeseung. He would never throw you to the wolves to save himself, not a chance in hell is he ever leaving you, not under any circumstances. When he told you that it was you and him together, he meant it with every crevice of his heart.

He hears the shower turn off and it jolts him to attention, suddenly flicks the channel as though he would get caught watching porn, or worse, Hollyoaks. The TV ends up on some gameshow where contestants try and get money by answering truth or false questions. 

Trying to act natural, Heeseung pats the area of his heart in an attempt to tame its brisk beats, not alerting you to anything he just saw. Considering you already believe that the entirety of this situation is your fault as if Heeseung also didn’t swing the finishing blow to the man’s head, the last thing he wants you to see is someone bashing your name to millions of viewers. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, you are wearing the lingerie you found and the sight of your frame prettily decorated in white causes Heeseung to swallow hard. It’s astonishing to Heeseung how you don’t even register how insanely beautiful you look right now, that look on your face puzzled as you walk towards the bed.

"What is it?" you question, slipping beneath the blankets and snuggling up next to the stupefied boy. “You’ve seen me like this lots of times.”

It’s true, he has, so he shouldn’t be so astonished that you look like Aphrodite’s spawn. Something about being able to appreciate you for every curve and stretch mark in a calm setting is enough to have him gawking like it’s the first time seeing you. 

“Yeah, you just look so…angelic in white,” he confesses, now regretting changing into the Simpson boxers; not quite as elegant.

You tuck into his side, lifting one leg over his to get comfortable, your head resting softly on his rising chest. It’s not uncommon for you to lie like this, the nights you’ve spent together often end up with you like this, trying to gain heat from one another's body as the midnight air sets in.

But now you have no excuse, this is purely for the reason to stick close to him, to feel him under you. His presence has turned into your security blanket, the one thing you need to fall asleep and forget about the problems you face.

Inhaling sharply, you watch the TV but never register its contents, your mind preoccupied. “We need a plan, Heeseung,” you murmur, your breath hitting his abs gently as he rubs your arm. “We’re going to be locked up if we’re not careful.”

Heeseung knows this, as much as Jongseong might think that coming home and handing both of you in will somehow get him off the hook, that’s not how the judicial system works. They’re still going to question him and discuss what happened that unfateful day and he would tell them the truth.

He went to an illegal prostitute, killed a man, and fled. Regardless of the fancy jargon or numerous stories about how it was self-defence, he is still guilty of murder. Plain and simple.

There is an unsettling realisation that he isn’t fit for jail. He can barely walk past a group of chavs without his asshole clenching, so in what world is he equipped to walk into prison, share a cell with a convict, and make it out alive? 

With a heaving chest, he begins to panic and his hand grips your upper arm a little tighter than normal. As you lift your head from his rising and falling chest, you see his eyes widening in realisation. “I can’t go to jail, Y/N.”

Sitting up, you begin to shake your head and refute his thoughts. “Hey, it’s okay, Hee,” you whisper, hand cradling his face with affection and assurance, “We will find a way out, I promise. After all, we’ve gotten this far.”

Your voice is unable to sound too convinced, not with the sirens haunting echoes still fresh in your mind. You know you got lucky today, escaping the law by the skin of your teeth and there are only so many chances you can have like this before the inevitable shackles of prison make their presence known around your wrists.

Heeseung isn’t listening to you, the shake of his head batting away any comforting words that spill from your mouth. “I can’t go, Y/N. They will smell the loser off me. I’m a virgin for fucks sake, they’ll notice it in a minute!” His voice is raised, eyes darting around as his brain conjures up worst-case scenarios, all of which terrify the man.

Shushing him, you try to draw his focus back to you, eyes searching into his for a chance to snag him. “Listen to me, you are not going to prison-”

“Oh course we fucking will, Y/N! You heard how many sirens were after us, not to mention they’ve probably brought extra men to help get that psycho with a gun. We are fucked.”

His interruption mixed with the change in vocabulary from ‘I’ to ‘we’ makes your own brain pulse in panic. You can sugarcoat it and tell yourself lies all you want but the fact of the matter is that there is a higher chance of getting caught than escaping. His outburst leaves you momentarily speechless, the gravity of the situation sinking in. The air feels thick with dread, every second ticking by amplifying the weight of your predicament. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm for both your sakes.

There isn’t anything you can do, Heeseung’s concerns are all valid and very much real. He isn’t meant for prison life and they will pick on him straight away. You would be okay, thinking about the years of building yourself a thick skin and strong backbone, but Heeseung is just finding his confidence, all of it will disappear as soon as he adorns the navy trousers and grey sweatshirt that bunch him with the other inmates. 

However, there is one thing you can do for him if not grant his freedom.

“Then…” you bite your lip and pinch the tips of your fingers in contemplation. “Let’s make sure you don’t go to prison a virgin.”

The words reach the panicked boy’s ears, rendering him speechless. He didn’t mean his earlier words literally, but the offer hangs in the air, a tangible and teasing proposition. He stares at you, processing the unexpected proposition, his mind momentarily distracted from the terror that gripped him.

“You don’t have to do that,” he finally whispers, his voice trembling but touched with a hint of gratitude. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just…” He trails off, his voice faltering.

Climbing onto his lap, you push the covers back and settle atop him, the thin lace and cotton of your underwear providing only a minimal barrier. Your legs trap his sides as you pull him to sit up slightly, his face now angled to meet your empathetic yet lust-filled gaze.

“If we are going to jail, whether it’s in the next week, month, or year, let’s at least spend one night that we’ll remember,” you suggest gently, your voice a mix of compassion and desire.

Heeseung’s eyes widen slightly, his breath catching as he processes your words. “But... are you sure?” he asks, his hands hesitantly resting on your hips. This, of course, isn’t your first time, but he doesn’t want you to feel obligated to do anything or force you into this because of a stupid fear he has.

You nod, your expression softening. “I’m sure. I want you so badly, Heeseung if you’ll let me?” The question comes off shy despite your hands rubbing his chest and shoulders in a subtle attempt to get him to say yes.

Heeseung's eyes soften, his reluctance giving way to a tentative smile. “I want you too,” he murmurs, his hands tightening slightly on your hips, his fingers creating indents in your skin.

When he first came to you, he just wanted to get fucked and have it over and done with, but now that he knows you and your heart, he doesn’t see it as a conquest he must defeat in honour to progress into adulthood. No, now he sees it as giving himself to the one person he worships, the journey you have both been on finally giving him the clarity to understand what he wants. You.

Although he made a point to express his concerns about being a virgin in prison, he didn’t really mean it the way you took it. Sure, it’s a worry for him, but prison is in general. Deep in his heart, he knows that the real cause of his worry is the fact that he could go his whole life without ever giving himself to you completely, never knowing what you feel like or how your bodies move with one another. You are the romance-induced first time he has been saving himself for and he can’t believe it’s about to happen.

You lean in, your lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. It starts gentle, a soft melding of mouths that slowly deepens as Heeseung responds, his hesitation melting away. Your tongues meet, exploring each other with a mixture of curiosity and growing desire. The kiss intensifies, becoming more urgent, and more demanding, as the need for closeness overwhelms you both.

Heeseung's hands slide from your hips to your back, fingers dancing along your spine. He fumbles slightly, his nervousness evident as he tries to unhook your bra. You smile against his lips, reaching back to help him unclasp it and let it fall away, revealing your breasts. His eyes widen, a mixture of awe and uncertainty as he takes in the sight of you.

God, has he missed these tits. 

“Do what you want Heeseung. I’m yours for tonight,” you whisper into his mouth as you ghost your lips over his, the lack of contact only causing him to whimper out.

Heeseung swallows hard as he uses his hands to massage your breasts, littering them with gentle kisses. His touch tentative but growing bolder as you encourage him. Your fingers find the waistband of his selected underwear and you giggle as you finally take in the sight of them. Embarrassed but determined, Heeseung lifts his hips, allowing you to pull his comical boxers down in one swift motion, freeing his erection.

You shift slightly, positioning yourself to straddle him more comfortably. The thin barrier of your lace panties feels almost painfully teasing against his hardness. One of Heeseung’s hands moves to your waist, his touch both gentle and possessive as he helps you slide your panties down your legs, his other hand rubbing his thumb over your nipple like it was a button on his much beloved Sega Mega Drive. 

You kick them aside, fully naked now, and press yourself against him. Heeseung’s breath hitches as your bodies align, his erection pressing insistently against your wet folds. You kiss him again, more fervently this time, your tongues tangling as the intensity between you builds.

One of Heeseung’s hands slides between your legs, fingers parting your folds and finding your clit. He rubs slow, deliberate circles, drawing a moan from your lips. You break the kiss, resting your forehead against his as you pant softly, your hips rocking into his hand.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly with a hint od desperation as he seeks your approval.

“Just like that,” you murmur, guiding his hand to the right spot, helping the virgin out just slightly. “Keep going.”

His fingers trail lower with your guidance, teasing your entrance before one slips inside, eliciting a shuddering gasp from you. He moves with exquisite slowness, each thrust of his finger deliberate and careful, as if savouring the feeling of you around him. 

You can’t see it due to your eyes closing and losing yourself to his touch but he is holding in his breath, all the new feelings and sensation beginning to overwhelm his senses. It was one thing to see a vagina in the flesh, his mouth tasting you so deliciously only hours before, but for any of his body to be inside of you, even his fingers, might send him into overdrive. It’s warm and not what he was really expecting, though, he didn’t go in with much of a clue to begin with.

If there is one thing books and porn have taught him it’s to start slow and work his way up to thrusting his fingers into you with verocity. He feels around, exploring you and your walls to gage a reaction. In some cases you wince from a shot of uncomfort, other times you let out a low moan followed by an array of profantities. 

Once he finds his rhythm and is confident enough, he adds a second finger, curling them slightly to press against that sweet spot inside you, his palm pressing against your clit. Instinctively, you grip his shoulders and begin to ride his hand, using him to chase your release.

“Fuck,” your breath comes in ragged gasps as he works you closer to the edge. The pressure builds steadily, a coil of heat tightening in your belly with each stroke of his fingers. Your hips move of their own accord, seeking more of the delicious friction he provides. “Heeseung,” you moan, your voice trembling with need. “I’m close…”

He looks up at you, eyes filled with a mixture of concern and desire. “What should I do?” he asks, his voice shaking. 

“Faster,” you urge, guiding his hand with yours. “Just a little faster.”

Heeseung follows your instructions, increasing the pace of his fingers and pressing more firmly against your clit. The knot inside you tightens further, until it snaps, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You cry out, your body trembling as the orgasm washes over you, gripping his shoulders for support.

Heeseung watches you with a blend of awe and desire, his fingers slowing but not stopping as he helps you ride out the aftershocks. When you finally come down from the high, you collapse against him, your breath coming in shallow pants.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers, realising that you’ve come undone thanks to him for the second time that day, his inexperience never being the hinder that he once thought it was. This orgasm was a little more shattering to your body though, the desperation in your subtle grabs to his skin telling him that you were taken to heaven and back and desperately seeking more.

You kiss him again, softer this time, a tender meeting of lips as you both savour the intimacy of the moment. But the need for more still burns within you, and you can feel Heeseung’s erection pressing insistently against your thigh.

Without breaking the kiss, you lift your hips, reaching down to guide him to your entrance. “Let me take care of you,” you whisper, positioning him at your entrance. “Are you ready?”

Heeseung nods, his breath hitching in his throat as his Adam’s apple bobs with the swallow of dry air. This is it, he is finally losing his v-card, and to someone he cares so deeply about. You will never understand the rush of emotions coursing through him as you hover over his length, waiting for consent to take him. You are about to give him his dream, the one he harbors in his heart; not losing his virginity, but being in love.

He thought it before but now it’s so clear to him. All this time you’ve spent with one another, each late-night conversation, opening up to one another in ways only lovers do, and the constant tension of something more underneath the surface level partners in crime you often refer yourselves as. It was all a timeline to falling in love. He doesn’t know if you feel the same, perhaps it’s too fast for you and it’s just his innocent heart that is jumping the gun, but he is so sure of his feelings towards you.

There is no one else in the universe he would rather lose his virginity to.

“I’m ready,” he utters, the thumping in his ears caused by his ear creating a backing track to his confirmation. “I’m so ready, Y/N.” The gleam of pride in his eyes takes you aback for a moment, the words kissing your heart with trust. “Do you have a condom?” 

“No,” you pant out in regret and irritation, the conversation prolonging the feeling of his shaft plugging your pussy up so beautifully. “But I got the implant when I started doing this as an extra precaution, just in case the condom didn’t work.” 

The explanation puts the boy at ease, knowing that there is no need to worry about adding a baby to this madness of a predicament you’re in. Nodding, he silently tells you that he is okay to go once again, inhaling deeply as you line him up with purpose.

As you slowly sink down onto him, both of you gasp at the sensation. You move with deliberate slowness, allowing your bodies to adjust to the feeling of being so intimately joined. Heeseung has never felt something so incredible in his life. Your walls are stretching in real time around him, accommodating his thick size with ease, your juices from earlier acting as a natural lubricant.

Heeseung’s eyes flutter shut, a soft moan escaping his lips as he feels you envelop him inch by inch. Every nerve ending in his body is alight with sensation, the warmth and tightness of you overwhelming his senses. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he tries to steady himself against the flood of pleasure.

“Y/N,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, filled with awe and disbelief.

You smile down at him, your own breaths coming in shallow pants. “You feel so good, Heeseung,” you murmur, your voice husky with desire. You feel honoured to be the first cunt wrapped around the boy’s cock, the feeling of him invading your tight hole and the way his prominent veins add another layer to the pleasure is outstanding causes your eyes to roll back.

It’s not like you haven’t had a cock like Heeseung’s before but for some inexplicable reason, his is erasing every feeling of the others. If this did happen on that fateful first meeting, you wouldn’t have charged him at all, the pleasure you are feeling right now would be enough of a payment.

Heeseung’s breath catches in his throat as you begin to move, a slow rhythm that sends shivers of pleasure up his spine. Each movement is deliberate, a dance of passion and trust as you guide him through this new experience. Your hips grind against his, making his cock rock inside you, each movement sending waves of sensation through both of you.

“How does it feel?” you ask, your voice a seductive purr as you continue to ride him.

Grunting at your movements, Heeseung quickly nods, his eyes wide with an overwhelmed sensation. “Fucking unreal,” he manages to choke out, his voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. He has to apologise to his teenage self for denying him this simple pleasure while his friends were getting their socks rocked.

Your lips curve into a satisfied smile at his response, your fingers splaying across his pecks as you bounce rhythmically on his cock. “I’m glad,” you murmur, your voice dripping with sensuality. “You feel amazing, Heeseung.”

Heeseung moans softly as he tries to keep up with your pace, bucking his hips sloppily, becoming erratic and lacking a consistent pace - not that you mind, you don’t expect him to be fucking you with the skill of a pornstar. The main thing is that he is enjoying it, and by the strangled whimpers and ‘fucking hell’ that leaves his lips every other second, you’re assured that he is.

But this is about teaching him and letting him learn the art of fucking. “Heeseung,” you whisper, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I want you to do something for me.”

Heeseung’s gaze is filled with trust and anticipation. “Anything,” he breathes.

“Let me guide you,” you say softly, your hands moving to cup his face. “Follow my lead, okay?”

Heeseung nods, his eyes wide with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. “Okay,” he agrees, his voice trembling slightly.

You start to move again, slower this time, your hips setting a steady rhythm. “Match my pace,” you instruct, your voice gentle but firm.

Heeseung tries to follow your movements, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. At first, his rhythm is clumsy, his thrusts too quick or too slow. You can feel his frustration building, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he struggles to find the right pace.

“Relax, Heeseung,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss him softly, instilling reassurance into him that taking his time to learn isn’t going to ruin the moment. “You’re doing great. Just feel it.”

Heeseung takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. He concentrates on your rhythm, his body gradually finding a better sync with yours. The clumsiness begins to fade, replaced by a more confident and deliberate movement.

“That’s it,” you encourage, your voice a breathy moan as you feel him moving more smoothly inside you. “Just like that, fuck.” You drop your head as the tip of his cock hits just the right spot, kissing your cervix tenderly.

Heeseung’s eyes light up with a mix of relief and pleasure as he hears your words. His hands move to your waist, guiding you as you ride him, his thrusts becoming more confident and sure. The sensation of him filling you with each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, your moans growing louder with each movement.

Every thrust brings a gasp or a moan from him, his body responding eagerly to your touch. He feels a mix of sensations - pleasure, awe, a hint of disbelief that he’s finally experiencing this with you. You lean down, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing together in sync with the rhythm of your bodies. Heeseung kisses you back with equal fervour, his need for you evident in every touch and every movement. 

“I never imagined it could feel like this,” he admits between kisses, his voice rough with desire. “Being with you, it’s everything.”

Your heart swells with affection as you feel him opening up, allowing himself to be vulnerable with you in this intimate moment. You continue to move, your hips rolling against his in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. The room is filled with the sounds of your combined breaths, the slick slide of your bodies, and the soft, wet noises of your connection.

“You feel so good,” you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ride him harder. “So, fucking perfect.”

Heeseung’s breath hitches, a whimper escaping his lips at your words. If he wasn’t lost in the feeling, he would ask if he was being a good boy. His eyes lock onto yours, a mixture of awe and desperation in his gaze. He can feel himself getting closer, the tight coil of pleasure in his belly winding tighter with each thrust. His hands roam over your body, one moving to your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you.

Feeling a surge of confidence and an overwhelming urge to please, Heeseung leans forward, his lips parting as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. The sensation is electrifying, a new layer of intimacy that sends shivers down your spine. His mouth is warm and eager, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before sucking gently. He hums around your nipple, the vibration adding to the pleasure that courses through your body.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, your head falling back as you give in to the sensation. Your fingers thread through his hair, holding him close as he continues his ministrations.

Heeseung’s thoughts are a whirl of sensation and desire. He’s hyper-aware of every reaction he elicits from you, the way your body responds to his touch, the sounds you make as he lavishes attention on your nipple. He’s never felt anything so intimate, so deeply connected, and it drives him to please you even more.

His tongue flicks over your nipple before he sucks it back into his mouth, his lips creating a tight seal. He alternates between gentle sucks and firmer pulls, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh just enough to make you gasp. The sensation is a perfect blend of pleasure and a hint of pain, heightening your arousal to an almost unbearable level.

Heeseung’s free hand moves to your clit, clumsily finding it after a few seconds to give it some well-deserved attention. The dual sensations make your hips move more urgently, grinding down onto him as your climax approaches.

“Y/N, I’m so close,” he moans against your breast, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He didn’t want to bust a nut quickly and has been holding back as long as he can, determined to make sure this was a good experience for you.

“Me too,” you whisper, your own climax building with every movement. “Don’t hold back, Heeseung. Let go with me.”

With a final, powerful thrust, Heeseung cries out, his body tensing beneath you as he finds his release. The sensation of him pulsing inside you triggers your own climax, and you cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash over you. You collapse against his chest, both of you trembling as you ride out the aftershocks together.

As the intensity of the moment fades, you lie there in each other’s arms, your breaths gradually slowing. Heeseung holds you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively as you both savour the aftermath of your passion. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, but also with a newfound sense of closeness and adoration.

Looking up at him, you smile lazily, tiredness taking over your limbs from the excitement of today and the fucking. “Well, how does not being a virgin anymore feel?”

“It feels,” he pauses, gathering his thoughts as they fight through his post-orgasm haze, “fucking unbelievable.” Heeseung places a soft kiss on your sweaty forehead and inhales your scent, enveloping his senses with you. His gestures are so loving and tender that you feel a ping in your heart, the same kind that you get when you eat your favourite meal or hear the song that gives you butterflies when it comes on the radio.

It feels like home.

“Thank you for letting me be your first,” you pout, kissing his sticky chest. Your lips press against the salty sheen of sweat on his skin, the taste mingling with the lingering sweetness of the moment.

Heeseung’s heart swells at your words, his eyes softening as he looks down at you. “I should be thanking you, Y/N. I am so happy that it was you I had this experience with.” His admission is heartfelt and pure, his voice trembling slightly with emotion.

You can see the depth of his feelings in his eyes, the way they shine with awe and adoration. It’s a look that makes your own heart flutter, the connection between you feeling even more profound in the aftermath of your intimacy. 

Feeling safe and secure despite circumstances that loom on the horizon, you lay your head back on his chest, settling in for the night. You don’t want to move, your body is too spent to care about peeing or your dead weight is making Heeseung uncomfortable. None of it mattered as sleep pulls you in.

“Y/N?” 

“Yeah…”

“I love you.”

Your heavy breathing fills the room, indicating your lulled state. He doesn’t know if you heard his confession but Heeseung doesn’t mind, he just had to get it off his chest, never wishing to keep his feelings from you ever.

“Good night, baby,” the nickname escapes his lips but it feels so right, everything about this moment feels right. Heeseung’s fingers trace lazy patterns on your back as he closes his eyes with a smile on his face, his heart relaxed for the first time in weeks.

He wishes every day could be as good as this one.

_____

Startled awake by an incessant crowing outside the bedroom window, Heeseung jerks up, his body relaxed but his mind still on semi-high alert. The sun's early morning rays filter through the thin, floral curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the quaint cottage bedroom. Dust particles float lazily in the warm light, adding a touch of magic to the peaceful scene. This is the best night’s sleep he has had, not just since you two began this wild chase, but in the past few years. The bed is a cosy nest of crumpled sheets and soft blankets, the scent of last night's intimacy lingering in the air.

Heeseung stretches, feeling the pleasant ache of spent passion in his muscles - even his head feels a million times better after the beating it took yesterday. His heart swells with a mix of pride and joy as he recalls the events of the night before. Losing his virginity this way wasn’t what he expected, but it was everything he wanted. There was a raw, unspoken connection between you both, an intimacy that transcended mere physicality.

Your heart was in it; he could feel it in the way you whispered affection and clawed at his body. There's a pride swelling within him, knowing there’s a high probability that this is the first time you’ve had sex that wasn’t just for survival or a quick cash grab. Last night was different - there was love between you, plain and simple. You didn’t have to say it or even hear his confession to know what it was. The way you both kissed one another as if the world meant nothing when you had each other, the way your bodies connected in a manner some lovers could only dream of.

Heeseung wishes that all of this were under different circumstances, as he always has, but something tells him that, in some whacked-out way, the universe would have put you together no matter what. The room around him is a testament to simpler times, with its rustic wooden furniture, a small dresser topped with a chipped vase of wildflowers, and a single, worn armchair in the corner. 

Turning his upper body to look at you sleeping, the serenity in his chest quickly vanishes and panic arises from the pit of his stomach. You aren’t there lying peacefully, basking in the morning sun like you should be.

His heart bumps against his rib cage as his mind settles on the worst possible scenario. Frantic, Heeseung clambers around the room, searching for any clue as to where you could have gone. In motels you’ve previously visited, you always left a note to say you’d gone to grab some food or ice, but this time there is nothing but a few strands of your hair decorating the pillow where your head should still be resting.

Rolling off the bed, Heeseung quickly grabs his boxers and puts them on, making his way around the house in search of you. The cottage bedroom, once a sanctuary, now feels ominous and empty. He glances around, his eyes darting over the rustic wooden furniture and the small dresser topped with a chipped vase of wildflowers. The morning sun, which had moments ago seemed warm and inviting, now casts long, eerie shadows.

“Y/N?” he shouts loudly, enough to wake every bird and hibernating bats in the vicinity. His voice echoes through the small cottage, mingling with the distant crowing of the rooster.

His mind races with terrifying possibilities. He thinks about how you could have been snatched in the night, but that doesn’t make sense—he would have felt that or heard you scream. Maybe you went for some fresh air and got caught by the police; they might have snuck up on you and cuffed you right there and then. But wouldn’t they have raided the cottage for him too?

Then his face pales, and he stops in his tracks. What if that psycho got a hold of you? He ran in the opposite direction, but that doesn’t mean the psycho couldn’t have made his way in a circle right to this house. What if he had the same idea and wanted to camp out here, and you just happened to be in the kitchen making some tea when he found you? What if he…

Sickness forms in Heeseung’s throat as he dashes to the kitchen, trying to dispel the horrific final “what if” from his mind. The cosy cottage now feels like a labyrinth of dread, every creak of the floorboards amplifying his fear.

“Baby?” he yells again, terror ripping through his vocal cords. “Y/N, please answer me.”

The kitchen, with its quaint, mismatched dishes and the faint smell of musk and nostalgia offers no comfort. Heeseung's eyes frantically scan the room, hoping to find you safe and sound, but the emptiness only feeds his growing panic. His breath comes in short, desperate gasps as he clutches the edge of the wooden countertop, his knuckles white with tension.

Y/N!” His voice cracks with despair, echoing through the silent house. Heeseung’s mind is a whirlwind of fear and helplessness, each passing second feeling like an eternity as he waits for any sign of you. The world outside, with its serene sunlight and gentle breeze, seems cruelly indifferent to his agony.

Suddenly, he feels a hand on his arm, and he whips around instantly.

Your face looks up at him with wonder and concern. “Hey, hey. I’m here, Heeseung,” you say calmly, hoping the soft dulcet tone of your voice can reduce the evident panic coursing through his veins.

Instantly, he hugs you tight, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other wraps firmly around your waist. His nose digs into your scalp as his lips press softly against your cranium as if he needs all his senses to be alerted to your sudden appearance - the only way to calm his unsettled heart.

“Heeseung,” you murmur into his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart against your cheek. “What’s wrong, what happened?”

Heeseung doesn’t respond immediately, just holds you tighter, his breath ragged and heavy with relief. The warmth of your body against his, the familiar scent of your skin, and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat begin to soothe the storm inside him. Gradually, the tension in his muscles eases, and his grip loosens just enough to look down into your eyes.

“I thought… I thought something happened to you,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. The morning light highlights the tears glistening in his eyes, a stark contrast to the fear that had consumed him moments before.

You reach up and gently wipe away a tear that has escaped down his cheek. “I’m here. I’m safe,” you reassure him, your fingers lingering on his face. “Nothing bad can happen to me when I’ve got you, yeah?”

Balancing on your tiptoes, you place a tender kiss on his dry lips, trying to instill in him some comfort that you are fine and alive. To be honest, if it were he who had disappeared without a trace, you would probably be in an even worse panic than he is.

The kiss is charged with a cocktail of emotions, lips neatly brushing one another as you both fall into an equanimity that is desperately needed in this moment of uncertainty. The tension around his shoulders fades as he melts into your touch, the fear and anxiety dissipating with each passing second.

Heeseung’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as if grounding himself in your presence. The taste of salt from his tears mingles with the warmth of the kiss, creating a poignant mix of relief and love. You feel his breath hitch, then gradually steady, synchronizing with your own.

When you eventually draw back, your foreheads touch. The world outside continues its peaceful morning, the calm wind and soft natural light now serving as a soothing backdrop rather than a harsh contrast.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” you whisper, your breath mingling with his. “I should have left a note like usual but there is not a pen or paper in this house, can you believe it?.”

Heeseung shakes his head slightly, his eyes still closed, savouring the closeness. “No it’s okay, I’m just glad you’re here,” he murmurs. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

You smile softly, cupping his face in your hands. “You won’t. We’re in this together, remember?”

Heeseung nods, finally opening his eyes to look into yours. There’s a depth of gratitude and love in his gaze that warms you to your core. “Yeah, together,” he echoes, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Where did you go?”

Absentmindedly, you reach up to the gauze on his head and peel it off, inspecting the wound as you explain your absence. “I was looking for a route out of here. And to see if the place is still teeming with police.” 

You grab a clean washcloth from the sink and wet it, gently dabbing the dried-in blood away. The gash looks better, although still open, a protective layer of skin is forming over it. It’s fragile and one rough knock could re-open it, but for now, it’s okay. You tell him to wait there while you grab the first aid kit from the sitting area before returning, setting out to apply a new gauze.

Once you clean his wound with the antiseptic wipe, which hurts considerably less than last night, Heeseung speaks up. “And? Is there a way out of this or are the police everywhere?” He isn’t a fan of you going out there on your own but he won’t dwell on it since you’re back here in his arms. His hands settle on your hips as his thumbs stroke your skin, craving contact with you as much as possible.

He doesn’t know if it was the idea of losing you or the sex that makes him crave your skin on his, but he won’t complain either way, and neither will you.

“There are sirens, faint but they are there,” you begin to explain, your voice disheartened, “I think I found a way out though.”

Heeseung’s eyebrows raise and his hands grip your hips slightly, a mix of curiosity and relief. “Oh?”

“Yeah, there is a dock not far from here, maybe about an hour away. It carts goods from Ayr to Dublin around lunchtime, if what I saw was right. We could sneak on it and get the fuck out of the UK, at least until we come up with a solid plan.”

It’s not foolproof and there are more cons than pros, but any minute, the police could come banging on this door and you’re sure as hell going to get caught then.

Heeseung’s shoulders slump as he processes this new information. “It’s risky, but we don’t have many options,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he nods resolutely. “Alright, let’s do it. But we need to be careful. One slip and it’s over.”

You nod in agreement, your mind already running through the logistics. “We need to move fast and quietly, the only way to the dock is through the woods and that’s exactly where the police are still looking.”

Heeseung gives a small, determined smile, his hands still tracing soothing patterns on your hips. “I’ll follow your lead,” his voice is low and assured. He really does believe there is nothing he can’t do as long as you’re beside him.

As you finish dressing his wound, you can’t help but feel a surge of determination. The bond between you has only grown stronger through this ordeal, and you’re resolved to face whatever comes next side by side. You share a final look, a silent promise to protect each other at all costs, before you start making preparations to leave.

“Okay, let’s go.”

_____

The woods is much easier to navigate in the middle of the day, however, it does make it easier to be spotted.The woods are much easier to navigate in the middle of the day, but the bright sunlight filtering through the canopy also makes it easier for them to be spotted. Heeseung and you move cautiously, stepping over roots and ducking under low-hanging branches, every sense heightened by the urgency of the situation. The dense foliage provides some cover, but the occasional break in the trees sends your hearts racing as you dart across open patches of sunlight.

The forest floor is a mix of damp earth and fallen leaves, each step a muffled crunch that both reassures and unnerves you. Birds chirp overhead, their songs a stark contrast to the tension thrumming through your bodies. The scent of pine and fresh moss fills the air, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of Heeseung’s dried blood.

You take the lead, your eyes scanning the path ahead for any signs of danger. Heeseung follows closely, his hand occasionally brushing against your back, a silent reassurance that he’s right there with you. The two of you communicate through subtle gestures and quiet whispers, knowing that any loud noise could draw unwanted attention.

In the distance, the faint wail of sirens echoes through the trees, a chilling reminder of the police presence. You exchange a worried glance with Heeseung, both of you quickening your pace. The sirens grow louder, a relentless reminder of the danger closing in behind you.

“We need to move faster,” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the rustling leaves.

Heeseung nods, his expression determined. “Stay close.”

The woods stretch out before you like a labyrinth, each turn and twist another gamble. You rely on your instincts, hoping they guide you true. The sun is high now, casting dappled shadows that dance across the forest floor. Sweat beads on your forehead, both from the exertion and the stress of being pursued.

Every so often, you pause to listen, straining to hear any signs of movement behind you. The sirens are still there, but they seem to be moving parallel to your path, not directly toward you. It’s a small relief, but you know you can’t let your guard down.

As you navigate a particularly thick patch of underbrush, you catch sight of a flash of blue through the trees. You freeze, grabbing Heeseung’s arm to stop him. You both crouch low, peering through the foliage. In the distance, you can see police officers moving methodically through the woods, their uniforms stark against the green backdrop.

“Shit,” Heeseung breathes, his grip on your arm tightening.

You nod, your mind racing. “We need to divert. There’s a stream nearby, if we can reach it, we might be able to throw them off our scent.”

Heeseung agrees without hesitation, and you change direction, angling toward where you remember the stream to be. The terrain becomes more challenging, the ground uneven and littered with fallen branches. You navigate as quietly as possible, mindful of every step.

The sound of rushing water grows louder, a hopeful sign that you’re on the right track. The stream appears ahead, a narrow but fast-moving ribbon of water cutting through the forest. You approach it cautiously, checking the area for any signs of the police.

“We’ll follow it downstream for a bit, then cross over,” you suggest, eyeing the opposite bank.

Heeseung nods. “Good plan. Let’s go.”

ou move quickly along the stream’s edge, the cool air off the water a welcome relief against your heated skin. The babble of the stream helps mask the sound of your footsteps, providing a small sense of security. After a few minutes, you find a shallow spot and carefully wade across, the cold water biting at your ankles.

On the other side, you pause to catch your breath, listening intently. The sirens are faint now, almost drowned out by the sound of the stream. It seems the police have moved further away, at least for the moment.

Or so you think.

Unbeknownst to you, two police officers are intently studying the footsteps you’ve left behind, following the trail with determined precision. They move swiftly through the underbrush, their eyes scanning the ground and the surroundings with practised ease.

“Over there!” one officer whispers urgently to his partner. They pick up their pace, pursuing you with renewed determination.

From their vantage point, they catch a glimpse of you and Heeseung through the trees. They see you clasp hands and begin to run, your figures darting through the forest like shadows.

Heeseung and you run up the forest, hearts pounding in sync with your hurried footsteps. Every muscle in your body is screaming for you to stop, but fear propels you forward. The forest becomes a blur of green and brown, the terrain treacherous with roots and fallen branches. You focus on not tripping, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

The officers aren’t as nimble and light on their feet as you two are, and you take every opportunity to duck behind trees and try to lose them amongst the branches and foliage. It’s difficult but you create some distance for a minute, never letting up on your track race speed.

Your heart is beating, blood boiling, and head spinning as your legs move on their own. This is it. You think to yourself about how you made such a great deal last night about knowing you would be caught and how you could accept it. But now that the moment is actually here, you’re terrified.

There isn’t a part of you that is ready to be locked up. You’re so young and this was all a misunderstanding, if you just explained it to them, maybe you could get a light sentence. It’s not your fault that the man came in and tried to choke you to death, you had to set boundaries and that’s more than okay, isn’t it?

But the law won’t see it that way. Of course, they won’t, because to them, you’re lower-class trash. That man was highly respected by his family and peers, and you’re just a lowlife prostitute who ruins marriages. You have never seen yourself that way, but this is exactly how the media are painting you out to be. In their eyes, you’re a villain, a scourge. There is no saving yourself from this.

As you slow down, you see the ground before you vanish, patches of brown and green turning into nothing but air. You’ve hit a dead-end, stuck between the relentless pursuit of the police and a deep, yawning cliff that there is no way down from.

Heeseung, a few steps behind, sees you slow down and quickly catches up, his head shaking violently. “Come on, baby, we need to go,” he urges, his voice filled with panic and desperation. Your stuttering steps finally stop, causing his eyes to widen, wondering why on earth you are pausing in the middle of a high-paced chase.

“We’re trapped.” Your voice trembles, eyes distant as you stare into the abyss of the cliff.

Heeseung’s eyes follow yours, and his heart drops. The cliff before you is a sheer drop, the ground simply vanishing into a void of jagged rocks and certain doom. The wind howls up from the chasm, a stark reminder of the peril you face. Behind you, the sounds of the police grow louder, the shouts and rustling foliage a testament to how close they are.

Heeseung pulls you close, his grip on your hand tightening as if he can tether you to safety through sheer will. The forest around you seems to close in, the trees now silent witnesses to your desperate situation. The sky overhead is a bright blue, mocking you with its serenity while chaos reigns on the ground.

“Maybe…maybe we can climb down,” Heeseung suggests, his voice strained, but even as he says it, he knows how impossible it sounds. The cliff face is almost vertical, with only the slightest hint of a path that could easily crumble underfoot.

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “There’s no way. We’ll fall.”

Heeseung looks back toward the forest, where the shadows of the police are closing in. Their voices are distinct now, every word a nail in the coffin of your dwindling hope. You can hear the commands faintly, the urgency in their tones as they coordinate their approach.

You move away from the cliff, looking up at your partner. “I’ll hand myself in.” 

Heeseung almost chokes on his shock as he hears your words. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He isn’t one to swear at you, not unless he is truly riddled with dread or panic, the curse words slipping easily into his vocabulary due to the cloud in his brain. Sometimes, it is truly the only way to express himself.

“It should give you some time to run. The dock is like 10 minutes away from here, and the boat leaves in 20 minutes. If you run now-”

The words hang heavy in the air, each syllable echoing with the weight of impending separation. You can see the conflict raging behind Heeseung's eyes, the turmoil of wanting to protect you conflicting with the reality of their dire situation. He hesitates, his hands trembling as they cup your face, the touch both gentle and desperate.

“If you think for a second I’m leaving you behind, you’re delusional, Y/N.” His voice cracks, betraying the raw emotion coursing through him. “After everything you’ve done for me? I am not letting you face this alone.”

Your heart clenches at his words, at the fierce determination in his gaze. Tears well up in both your eyes as you stare at one another, each of your souls clinging to the love that is passing through you. There is a commitment between you that most married couples don’t even have; it’s an honour to be loyal and devoted to one another the way you have been.

“Heeseung, please,” you plead, your voice breaking under the weight of your decision. “If they catch us both, it’s over. At least one of us has to make it. You need to live a free life, not one behind bars.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightens, his resolve hardening even as his heart breaks. “No. We’re in this together, no matter what. I promised you, didn’t I? I promised I’d never leave you.”

His words pierce through the chaos around you, anchoring you in the reality of your love. You reach up, covering his hands with yours, feeling the warmth and strength that has always been there for you.

“Heeseung,” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and adoration. “You’ve been my everything since I’ve known you. You followed me through all of this and I couldn’t be more grateful. But I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me. Prison isn’t a place for you.”

“And I can’t bear the thought of living without you,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion. “We’ve fought so hard to stay together, to protect each other. I won’t let it end like this. I don’t care what we have to do, I won’t let them take you away from me.”

He knows deep down that if you both get caught, there is a chance he can escape this if the news last night is anything to go by. Jongseong is painting him in a firmly good light, he could get away with this, possibly make them see his side. 

But what life could he live knowing that you’re rotting away in jail for a crime that was completely justified? He could fight your corner but people would just presume it was stockholm syndrome or something else ridiculous, never understanding that he chose this with you, even after you gave him a million chances to leave.

The sirens grow louder, the policemen’s voices are bellowing through the trees, and the urgency of the situation pressing down on you. But in this moment, it’s just the two of you, locked in a gaze that speaks of endless love and unbreakable bonds.

His mind races to find a way out of this for both of you, running isn’t exactly a viable option anymore, there is nowhere to run or even hide. 

Nuzzling his nose against yours, tears cascade freely from your eyes, the salty liquid mixing with the dampness on his cheeks. This intimate gesture makes Heeseung's heart soar, feeling as though he's falling even deeper for you, if that were even possible. Every atom of his being belongs to you, and the two of you are acutely aware of this truth. Your souls are intertwined, embracing each other as you confront this dire predicament together.

He looks around, the desperation in his eyes mirroring your own. His hands slip from your face but remain in contact, fingertips grazing your skin, as if he's terrified that losing touch will cause you to vanish entirely. Heeseung glances at the precipice once again, a lump forming in his throat, his eyes blinking rapidly as the gravity of their situation becomes undeniable.

"We can't stay here," he murmurs, his voice trembling. The sound of sirens grows louder, the authorities closing in. Heeseung's gaze locks onto yours, a mixture of fear and determination in his eyes. "They'll catch us, and everything we've fought for will be for nothing. I can’t fucking lose you, baby. Not when I just got you."

As his words sink in, a valve of emotions opens up inside of you. Fear, desperation, and an overwhelming love for Heeseung intertwine, making it hard to breathe. You realise in that moment that you can't possibly live without him. The thought of being separated, of living without his presence in prison, is unbearable. He is your anchor, your solace, and the love that sustains you. You’ll crumble from the inside out if you’re not together, the codependency and attachment between you all too real.

Heeseung's fingers tighten around yours, his grip both reassuring and urgent. "There's only one way out," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He looks back at the cliff, the void below seeming both menacing and oddly inviting. "We jump."

The weight of his words hangs in the air, the enormity of the decision circling both of you. Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear of the unknown mingling with the trust you have in him. Heeseung's eyes search yours, seeking reassurance, hoping you'll understand.

“What? Are you crazy?” you ask nervously, looking at the large drop below you.

The wind howls around you, the cliff's edge crumbling slightly under the pressure of your feet. Heeseung cups your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that continue to fall. "Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice breaking with emotion.

"Yeah, I am, but it's the only way if we want to stay together," he repeats, his voice stronger this time. "If we jump, we have a chance. We'll be free, and no one will be able to separate us."

Of course, this is insantiy. You have known one another all but two weeks and suddenly you're both contemplating dying rather than being seperated by jail cells. So why is your heart beating in agreement?

Your breath shakes as you inhale, your head disagreeing. Not because you don’t trust him, but because you can't bear the thought of Heeseung not breathing at the end of this decision. You couldn’t care less about your own fate, but his life is too precious to waste.

"Heeseung," you whisper, your voice quivering. "I won't let you die. You're too important. The world needs people like you, soft and good." You hiccup a sob as your brain even contemplates the idea. "You’re so, so good, Heeseung."

Heeseung's eyes soften, pain and tenderness illuminating their depths. He presses his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own in a shared moment of intimacy. “This world isn’t worth living in without you. It doesn’t deserve good people after the cards it dealt us,” he whispers, his voice steady despite the fear that lingers in his eyes.

“I promise you, Y/N, I will find you in every lifetime.”

Those words shatter your heart into pieces. The sincerity in his gaze, the unwavering determination - it’s almost too much to bear. Tears ricochet down your cheeks faster now, mingling with the saltiness of his own.

"Heeseung," you choke out, your voice barely a whisper. "I don't want you to suffer. I can't stand the thought of losing you, even for a moment."

His hands move to cradle your head gently, petting your head, something you’ve come to love with each night spent with him. Often, he would do this to calm you down when you couldn’t sleep, even without asking.

"We won’t lose each other," he says firmly, his voice a lifeline in the storm of emotions. "Not now, not ever. We’ll find a way, no matter what. But right now, we have to take this chance. If not, we’ll never be together again.”

The love that has blossomed between you is so powerful that both of you would rather face death together than be separated. It’s a testament to your commitment, and though it may seem foolish to others, it’s the only choice that feels right. If the alternative is prison and a life without each other, then you would rather take your last breath in each other's arms.

“I never wanted this to happen to you,” you confess, sucking in your lip as you try to keep the last semblance of resolve strong inside of you.

Smiling sadly, Heeseung shakes his head. “Baby, I wouldn’t have this any other way. I found myself through all of this, I got to see the world and take chances, be someone who isn’t scared of literally living their life. You helped me with that, and I wouldn’t trade it for all the stars in the sky.”

You smile back at him, nodding. Your heart understands exactly what he means because watching Heeseung blossom into this confident and headstrong man, something he always wanted to be, is the highest reward both of you could take from this other than the love for each other. You have also grown in ways you never thought possible, letting your vulnerability shine through, and trusting someone with all your chest which would never have happened without him, without this experience.

If you’re going to die now, you’re happy with the person you have become.

Heeseung's grasp on your hands tightens, his eyes filled with ferocious purpose. "We'll jump," he adds, his tone firm and committed. "And whatever happens, I'll meet you on the other side."

Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear of the unknown mingling with the intense adoration you feel for him. Nodding, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the leap. Outstretching your pinky, you hold it to his chest. "Together?" you state, your voice a mixture of resolve and vulnerability.

Heeseung smiles a sad yet determined smile that speaks of a love too deep for words. He grasps your pinky with his, tears welling up in his eyes for the last time; tears of relief and happiness. “Together. Forever.”

He brings your joined fingers to his lips, kissing them gently, a gesture filled with all the love and tenderness he can muster. Stepping closer to the edge, he pulls you with him, his hand never leaving yours. The chasm below yawns wide and dark, dotted with trees and glistening lakes, but in this moment, the bottom holds no fear - only the promise of freedom.

“Heeseung?” your soft voice echoes into the vast horizon.

“Yeah?” he replies, his voice steady and calm.

“I love you, too.”

A tender smile graces his lips. You did hear him last night, his whispered confession reverberating through your dreams, his words and tender touches leaving an indelible mark on your heart.

Heeseung's eyes meet yours, the love and trust between you unbreakable. With a deep breath, you both move closer to the precipice, the ground beneath your feet seems to tremble with anticipation. The authoritative voices are louder now, the world behind you closing in, but none of that matters anymore.

"On three," he says softly, his voice a lifeline. "One... two..."

The final number hangs in the air, a heartbeat away. The world narrows to just the two of you, your hearts beating in unison. With a final, shared breath, you take the leap.

For a moment, everything is weightless. The wind roars past, the ground vanishes beneath your feet, and you are suspended between worlds. Heeseung's hand in yours is the only anchor, a touchstone in the freefall. You glance at him and he does the same, expressions mirroring one another as you face together the inevitable chilling bone crush. You’re happy, in love

And free.

You don’t think about your past with your brother or father, or the brothel, or the man you killed. And Heeseung doesn’t think about his family, or his exams, or the life he left behind. Both of you only think about the short-lived life you shared with one another.

As you plummet into the unknown, you hold onto the promise Heeseung made. No matter where this leap takes you, no matter what lies ahead, you will find each other. In this life, and in every lifetime to come. The vast expanse of the sky, the rush of the wind, and the unyielding grip of Heeseung's hand - this is your freedom, your eternity, your together.

taglist (closed): @yzzyhee @intromortal @zerobaseone-zhanghao @hooniehon @deobitifull @alvojake @sageryuri @slut4hee @binniesbabe @vveebee @minniejenseo @jebetwo @seunghancore @laurradoesloveu @yongbokified @jaehoonii @jaeyunluvr @melonvrs @criminalyun @enhastolemyheart @fakeuwus @flwrhoes @rayofsunshineeee @moonlighthoon @jaehyuniewifeu @en-ternals @haechonly @got-sunghooned @brownsugarbaybee @heeseungspookie @sunpov @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan

[folkwhoredoll]

library affections - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: there are two things that you love in this world; rafe and books

word count: 0.9k

warnings/tags: none, just fluff with sweet boyfriend!rafe

a/n: hi everyone! i don't think i can ever thank you all enough for your support in all of my works :< tbh i did not expect to gain so much interaction because this blog is still relatively new but here you all are and i appreciate each and every one of you <3 this fic is another fluff boyfriend!rafe fic (is it obvious that i like fluff so much lmao) and i've written this a while ago. i hope you'll like this one! if you have a request or prompt in mind, feel free to send me a message. happy reading!

masterlist

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Being a regular visitor at the Camerons' estate has familiarized you with every corner of the house. Now, you have memorized every room and decoration, immediately spotting whatever is newly added. The Camerons didn't mind your presence, with your family being a close friend of theirs. Thus, it was no surprise that you ended up dating the one and only son of Ward Cameron.

With his father and stepmother often occupied and his sisters frequently out with friends, you and Rafe usually find yourselves with the house to yourselves, save for the occasional presence of the household staff. Yet, you've never minded.

Today follows a similar pattern. Ward left for a morning meeting, Wheezie went to school, and Sarah departed at noon to join John B's group. Surprisingly, even Rafe isn't home, having agreed to a golf outing with Topper and Kelce. Although he initially invited you to join, you declined, preferring to avoid the "boy talk" and the scorching sun. Thus, you find yourself waiting for Rafe in the living room, idly scrolling through your phone.

It's been around two in the afternoon when you got bored, sighing and deciding to stand up to walk around the house. Your feet already know where you're going when you face the familiar entrance to the Camerons' Library.

This room is your most loved spot in the whole estate, apart from Rafe's room. The vast shelves of bright book covers from different times always amaze you. If you could, you'd live in this room. Rafe has found you exploring this library countless times; even his sisters know it's the first place to check when you're not around the house.

Quickly scanning the shelves for a book, you settled upon a fantasy fiction novel, clutching the book as you made your way to a couch by the window. The first few chapters had you hooked immediately, eyes rapidly passing through every word as you moved chapter by chapter. The book was so good that it blanked your other senses, making you jump when you suddenly heard Rafe's voice.

"I knew you'd be here." He smirked, still in his golfing outfit, as he stood over you.

"Hi, Rafe." You smiled up at him, putting the book down on your lap. "How's golfing?"

Rafe plopped beside you, stretching his legs and putting an arm around your shoulder. "It was good. I got bored with Top's whining about his break-up with Sarah, so I left."

You chuckled when you saw his eyes roll, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. "They were together for a long time. You can't blame him."

"I guess." He shrugged before flashing you a flirty grin. "But I also want to spend time with my girl."

You snorted. "Yeah, okay."

"What? I do! I feel guilty about leaving you here alone." He defended.

"I don't mind, Rafe." You spoke.

"Hm. I bet you don't. But still."

You raised your brows, silently urging him to explain what he meant.

"I just mean that you were too distracted by that book, baby. I could've been an intruder, but you wouldn't even know. What is that about anyway?"

Your eyes lit up at his question; you've always loved speaking about the books you've read. And Rafe loved hearing you talk, even if he's mostly confused.

"I just started reading it, so I don't really know what it's about yet, but there's this girl, and she has electricity powers!" You started excitedly.

Rafe listened intently. He couldn't help but feel affection for you, marveling at how your eyes sparkled with passion for the story. Despite the chaotic world outside, at this moment, it was just the two of you, surrounded by the tranquility of the library.

As you continued to talk, Rafe's mind wandered, reflecting on how much you meant to him. You were the one person who could effortlessly penetrate his tough exterior, revealing the softer, more vulnerable side of him that he often kept hidden from the world. He felt at ease with you, free to be himself without fear of judgment or ridicule.

Lost in his thoughts, Rafe reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You paused mid-sentence, startled by the sudden touch, before leaning into his hand, relishing the warmth of his touch.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, concern lacing your voice as you noticed the distant look in his eyes.

Rafe shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nothing, I'm just... happy. Happy to be here with you."

A soft blush colored your cheeks as you met his gaze, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. At that moment, surrounded by the scent of old books and the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the window, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Leaning in, Rafe pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion as you returned his affectionate gaze.

With a contented sigh, Rafe settled back against the couch, pulling you closer until you were nestled against his side. Together, you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the simple pleasure of each other's company.

At that moment, surrounded by the familiar comforts of the library, you knew that no matter what the future held, as long as you had each other, everything would be okay.

[inuyashaluver]

would you maybe write a Katie McCabe fic with a reader who’s never really had a relationship before so missed out on all the cliche teenage love moments in their teenager years so now that they’re in a relationship Katie goes out of her way to try and make up for all the things she missed and reader just gets to see a whole new, loving side of Katie.

teenage dream - katie mccabe

katie mccabe x reader

description: in which you’ve never been in a relationship, when you miss out on the lovey dovey moments, your girlfriend helps you out

warnings: fluffy fluffy, swearing

a/n: ahh!! such a cute request, made my heart all fuzzy, thank you, lovely, enjoy ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

your girlfriend, katie, is a very. determined. woman. she would do anything for you, without a question, without a second thought, without a doubt, she’s there, and she wants to make sure you know that.

when you stumbled into the arsenal training facility for the first time with your big, curious eyes and sheepish smile, she knew she needed to have you, and that was her plan exactly.

—

you had just been signed to arsenal from sydney fc back in australia. moving to england, specifically to london was one of the scariest thoughts you could muster, leaving everything you knew behind to start a new chapter of your life at just 25.

but thankfully, you had your matildas teammates to help you along the way, fitting in almost immediately and settling into a place you now considered home.

the arsenal girls were your family amongst all the chaos and you truly loved everyone, a particular irish, however, caught your heart more than others.

—

it was one of your first training sessions. you were partnered up with steph, kicking the ball to each other back and forth until she sent the ball way over your head, unfortunately landing right at the back of katie mccabe’s head.

“what the fuck!” she groans, hand cradling the back of her head before turning with a glare to figure out who the culprit was.

only, when she turned around to see your shocked face, she visibly relaxed, offering you a charming smile as you apologised profusely.

“katie, oh my god, i’m so sorry! steph kicked it really hard and then i tried to get it, but it went straight to your head, and then-” you ramble, the words coming out of your mouth faster than your brain could think.

“you know, sweetheart, if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask?” she grins, you blink and look at her in a dazed state, your cheeks lightly dusted with pink as you looked at each other.

she chuckles at your expression, taking a step forward to be directly in front of you.

“o-oh, um” you stutter, she smiles reassuringly but your brain couldn’t comprehend anything coherent at all.

“did you want the ball back?” she asks amusingly, all you can do is nod, katie smiles and places the ball into your hands, purposefully grazing her fingers against yours, she smirks at the way your breath hitched at nothing but a simple graze of your fingers, she loved this.

you thank her softly before rushing over to steph, cupping your flushed face while she looks at you amusingly. you fan yourself and steal little glances at katie only to see she was already analysing your every move. the fluidity of your movements leaving her in a hypnotised state.

you were both driving each other crazy.

—

katie didn’t try to hide her advances on you, the whole team would tease you for your reactions to her flirting and katie relished the whole situation.

she loved that she made you all shy to the point where you couldn’t look at her, even when she was basically doing nothing.

from small gestures of holding the door open for you, handing you your water bottle, helping you put on your tracker, you were a blushing mess. it was even worse when she would shower you with compliments.

“hey, beautiful, i like your boots, or maybe i just like the girl wearing them” she’d call out cheekily from next to you in the change room, “thank you” you say bashfully, making her grin widely as she analysed your face, knowing your brain was malfunctioning.

she’d always spot you in the gym and it was obvious to anyone that the two of you liked each other from every interaction you had.

you’d be training weights and katie would make an effort to linger around you just in case you ‘needed’ help.

“hold on, babe, let me help you” she’d laugh softly, before you even got to attempt to lift the weight off the rack, katie was there behind you with a soft smile.

she’d hover her hands by your sides as you’d squat the weight, giving you encouraging words and smiles that had your body burning.

“two more, darlin’, come on” she cheered, when you finished the set, she grinned happily, “good girl” she praised, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“smashed it, didn’t even need me” she grins, “nah, i did, thanks, katie” you breathe out, smiling at her when she handed you your water bottle with a wink before walking away, leaving you a blushing mess that steph and caitlin were pissing themselves laughing about.

“stunned mullet over here” caitlin teases, you roll your eyes and push her off you when she attempts to kiss your cheek, steph laughs at the two of you as you bicker like kids. you like katie and you were sure of it now.

—

surprisingly, you were the one who made the first move, tired of all her teasing and wanting to take that next step forward. you cornered her after a game one day and she was extremely surprised to say the least.

when you dragged her to the car park by her hand, she interlaced your fingers on instinct and smiled at you affectionately when you squeezed them for comfort.

“katie” you start, “mhm, that’s me, gorgeous” she grins, pulling you slightly closer by your hand.

“i was just wondering if you wanted to..um, i don’t know, go for a coffee or something tomorrow?” you ask nervously, katie was smiling so hard, her cheeks were starting to hurt.

“what, like a date?” she assured, her grin not once dropping at your new found confidence. maybe you were around her too much.

“um, yeah” you mumble, she moves to grab your other hand and pulls you forward, looking at you lovingly. “i’d love to” she kisses your cheek quickly and you try not to let your knees buckle from under you,

“thank you for asking, babe” she places her hand on your bicep and holds it gently, you smile up at her and nod, letting her walk you to her car, departing with a sweet kiss to her cheek that had her stomach swarming with butterflies.

—

when you went to coffee the next day, it was like you’d known each other for years. you were so similar, both of you would talk excitedly about random things while you learnt more about each other.

katie was incredibly respectful, she just did everything right that you couldn’t fault her. she was perfect. she made you feel so incredibly comfortable, she loved that you were so authentically yourself, she loved everything about you.

katie made you so comfortable in fact, about 4 dates in, you’d told her all about your relationship history.

you’d always been in talking stages with people but nothing would ever come of it, she was incredibly understanding and supportive, listening intently to your every word as she caressed your hand for comfort.

in her head, she was planning all the ways she was going to spoil you, to make you giddy in puppy love. she was incredibly determined to give you everything you deserved.

so, when katie asked you to be her girlfriend, she was proud knowing she was your first.

—

when you were at her house cuddling and watching a rom com, you’d expressed mindlessly how you wanted that teenage lovey dovey experience and katie made an immediate mental note to give you that. gently kissing your cheek with a sly grin as you both watched the movie.

the next day, you’d arrived at training to see your locker with little heart sticky notes stuck all over it. you gasp and moved closer, opening up your locker to see a small bouquet of flowers with a little note attached to them,

‘pretty flowers for my pretty girl, from your secret admirer -k’ you were borderline almost in tears over the small gesture, your heart clutching at the thought of her remembering your conversation.

when you went into the change room to find katie chatting to leah, she was left breathless when you rushed over and pulled her into a sweet kiss, letting out a little noise of surprise into your mouth.

she immediately pulled you closer by your hips and smiled into your mouth, you pulled back with a quick peck to her lips.

she smiles brightly when you pull away, you wrap your arms around her neck and tugged her into a hug.

she sways you gently while you thanked her, smiling at leah to see she was recording the two of you with her phone with her own bright grin on her face.

you wouldn’t let go, holding her close to you in an attempt to convey everything you were feeling. she hums at your embrace, her hands gently caressing your waist as she holds you close.

giggling and whispering in your ear as you hold her. you kiss her cheek and part from her reluctantly when you had to change for training.

—

you both had a day off the next day and katie had convinced you to head out on a date. a mini carnival on a sunday afternoon being the location.

you’d walked around hand in hand giggling and chatting amongst the carnival, stopping for photos whenever the two of you were asked.

you both ate carnival food and went on rides, the bright smiles for both of you being the only expressions you’d had all day.

then, katie spotted a photobooth and she immediately dragged you over. there were four photos, katie had you perched up on her lap with her arms wrapped firmly around your middle.

the first photo was the two of you with happy faces with your cheeks smushed together.

one of you kissing katie’s cheek while she closes her eyes in a giggle.

the next one was katie following suit, grabbing your face and jokingly biting your cheek while you laugh.

and the last one, katie pulling you into a loving kiss, the light pink evident on both of your faces.

she grins at you while she watches you look over the photos with a love sick expression.

you really felt like a teenager at this moment, feeling so giddy over the girl, you were so grateful for her.

—

now whenever the two of you are in the gym, katie uses you as the weight, knowing that it made you giggle.

as soon as she saw you in the room, she gestures for you to come closer with her finger, a smirk evident on her face.

“come here, baby” she entices, you roll your eyes amusingly and make your way to where she was sitting. you stand in between her legs with your hands on her shoulders as she held your hips, looking up at you as you brushed away a loose hair that fell from her ponytail.

she only let the embrace happen for a few seconds until she lifts you up bridal style, squatting with your weight like it was nothing. every time she’d get up she’d hoist you up in her arms and you would yell and giggle at the height, holding onto her for dear life even though you know she’d never drop you.

“katie!” you giggle when she peppers your cheek with kisses while she held you, feeling her smile against your skin.

“mhm?” she mumbles, moving to your other cheek and continuing her little kiss attack. you laugh brightly when she moves her lips around your face before she moves to kiss your lips gently, lasting for a few seconds until she put you on the ground.

she smiles satisfyingly at your pink cheeks, making an effort to playfully slap your behind when you bent down to pick up her water.

“easy, mccabe” you taunt, passing her the water with a kiss on her cheek, she chuckles and takes a sip while she winks at you before she helps spot you as usual.

—

everyday with katie offered something new, she absolutely spoilt you with an amount of love you didn’t even know was possible.

it only got more intense when you moved in together, happily and easily calling you cooper’s other mum.

not to say you didn’t spoil her either, you showed your appreciation to katie through simple gestures that she was incredibly grateful for.

there was a lot of love and mutual respect for one another that was obvious to anyone and you both couldn’t be happier.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - just pretend it’s you! ily beffy

liked by stephcatley and 44,232 others

katie_mccabe11: the missus is pretty cute

view all comments

yourname: mammy katie

↳ katie_mccabe11: mammy (y/n)

leahwilliamsonn: still don’t know how you pulled this one

↳ yourname: luck of the irish

↳ katie_mccabe11: watch it.

[total-dxmure]

✦ MARLEY AND ME →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER FOUR

pairing: modern!ellie williams x single mom!reader

summary: you’re a single mom just doing the best that she can to make ends meet. ellie can’t help but think that you're the kindest, most beautiful girl that she’s ever met. compared to taking care a little girl that's in her terrible twos, coming to terms with the fact that you’re a lesbian is a walk in the park. awkward first encounters, ellie’s broken gay-dar, and her overwhelming urge to take care of the care-giver. . . the road to domesticity is a long one, but it’s well worth the pining that it takes to get there.

warnings: eventual substance use, no use of y/n (you have nicknames/petnames), the reader is marley’s biological mother, talk of coming to terms with ones sexuality, mention of a shitty baby daddy ( though there is no co-parenting between them), ellie is a total girl mom, lots and lots of fluff, ellie is an anxious dork in this fic, reader is broke but happy, ellie takes pride in being a provider, this is going to be a multi-part fic, ellie is an absolute simp for the reader since chapter one and will remain her #1 fan.

The knock on the door is to the tune “Head Over Heels”- or at least you think it is. Ellie doesn’t have enough time to fully get through the chorus before you’re yanking it open, cheeks flushed all pretty and eyes wide. They glitter in the dim sunlight like jewels, staring up at her like she was the one that hung the moon. Ellie’s got that same dumb look on her face; mossy eyes wrinkled at the corners from the force of her smile. You would never know that she’s been up since seven o’clock in the morning, cramming for an exam that she had aced. She’d talked to Joel for the fifteen minutes that it took to get to your house, bragging on and on about how much easier it had been than she’d initially thought that it would be.

He let her brag. Of course he did. She wasn’t quite as talkative as she had been when she was a teenager, but she was still famous for her little tangents. Joel was good at listening, and Ellie? Well, she was a professional yapper. It was a match made in heaven.

Ellie smells like lavender, musk and patchouli incense. The scent of it clings to her hair and clothes. She’d mentioned a couple of times that she was a daily smoker, but she made sure to go out of her way to never smell when she was over at your place. The thought of your daughter cuddling to her when she smelled. . . funky made her cringe.

There’s a moment of appreciative silence as she stands on your front porch. The two of you just stare at each other, breathing the scent of each other in. The novelty still isn’t lost as far as your courting goes either. You can’t imagine the nervous butterflies ever going away. They’ve made a cage out of your ribs, fluttering away madly in your chest.

“Hey,” She breathes through her smile, her eyes dancing over your features. “Did I miss anything exciting?”

You look absolutely exhausted. Gorgeous, but exhausted nonetheless. Ellie has noticed that you do a very good job at putting others' needs before your own. You’d been at work for two whole hours before Ellie had even woken up this morning, and now you felt like you were on autopilot. You’d walked to your mom’s to pick Marley up, gotten her bathed and dressed in little play overalls and now the two of you were spending some quality time together. You could barely keep your eyes open, and yet you knew that you wouldn’t be able to get your screaming toddler to sleep for at least another three hours.

“Marles and I are making homemade play-doh right now,” You opened the door wider, tempting her into the house with a sweet smile. Who was Ellie to deny you of all people? “She’s been excited ever since I told her that you were coming over.”

Marley had taken to Ellie like a bee to honey.

The college student hadn’t had too many opportunities to be around children- especially ones as young as Marley was. She was unfamiliar with the tiny sticky hands, drooly mouths and unpredictable attitudes. Still, she was a natural. Marley gravitated towards her. Ellie was sure that the constant presents and sweet treats buttered her up, but she would be selling herself short if she claimed that those were the only reason that your daughter loved her so much.

Your three year old babbled from the kitchen, excitedly trying to piece together a sentence. Ellie closed the door behind herself, only to sweep you up into a bone crushing hug. Your laugh was muffled by the fabric of her soft cotton button up as you nuzzled your face into her neck. Closer, closer, closer. If she could absorb you into her body she would. It was hard to describe the level of admiration she felt for you. It was too early to classify it as “love”, but she supposed she did love you and Marley. Being in your house, as small as it was, felt right to her.

“I missed you.” You mumbled, arms fastened tight around her waist.

She barely had enough time to brush a gentle peck to your lips before Marley was bounding around the corner, bare feet slapping against the linoleum floors. You’d recently learned that wearing socks wasn’t a good idea. Your poor little girl had slipped and fallen far too many times for your liking.

Marley had become more comfortable in her body, which meant she was now running, jumping and climbing. Just a year ago you had been relieved that she could walk by herself without you holding her hand, and now keeping her off of your furniture was an impossible task. Nothing had prepared you for the constant changes that came with motherhood. You blinked and suddenly she was sassy and genuinely funny. She complimented you when you were wearing something unusually flashy and wanted you to put blush on her while you were getting the both of you ready so that she could “look like mommy”.

You never expected anyone outside of your family and close friends to appreciate your daughter in the same way that you did.

But then there was Ellie.

Self indulgent. Waking up this happy felt sinful.

Your fingers gently glide over her gentle planes and curves, making a map in your mind of every inch of her. Each freckles a continent, each line a river.

You didn’t want to wake Ellie, too frightened that you might break whatever magic spell was currently suspended in the air between the two of you. This moment between you felt too good to be true, and that scarred little voice inside of you that you loathed so much was begging you to enjoy this while it lasted.

You were always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Happiness was fleeting. You felt like you didn’t deserve whatever was going on between the two of you. Your entire identity for the last three years has been summed up in a singular label: “ a mother”. You were a sexless, wantless, selfless creature meant only to teach and please. How dare you need a night off. How dare you choose yourself over an abusive relationship. How dare you need, want, desire, change.

But this? This was nice.

No, it was better than nice. Great? No. . . It was perfect. She was perfect. And that terrified you. Ellie scared the absolute shit out of you, and yet you couldn’t take a step back. It was like you were falling head first for a very, very long time. The ground is nowhere in sight.

You were free falling and you had no clue where you would end up when all was said and done. It felt selfish to put so much effort and care into so many new things at once. Especially since those new things could shatter your heart into a million pieces at any second. You knew that Ellie didn’t owe you anything. She was nice enough to give you a chance despite all of your faults. Your baggage had become too heavy for you to hold at times, so how could you ever expect someone else to help pick up the slack?

You weren’t even sure what the two of you were doing together. The two of you hadn’t put a label on your relationship, but she’d brought you flowers yesterday when she popped by for a movie night. She’d even gotten a small bouquet for Marley, who was far too small to appreciate them for longer than five minutes.

Ellie wasn’t your girlfriend, but she’d slipped Marley’s shoes on for her before you’d all left the house last night to pick up dinner. Ellie wasn’t your girlfriend, but she’d spent the night with you last night in your bed. Ellie wasn’t your girlfriend, but she’d held you all throughout the night.

She didn’t even try to get handsy at all last night, probably having seen the exhaustion written all over your face. She kissed you because she wanted to show you affection. She held you because she wanted to be close.

What you didn’t know was that Ellie felt the same way that you did. She was lost as to when to ask the dreaded “what are we?” question. The thought of pushing you away or losing you was agonizing, so instead she had deluded herself into thinking that she didn’t have to define things. It was clear that she liked you, right?

She’d never felt this way about anybody before. This wasn’t like any other crushes she’d had in the past. She felt fresh and new. Ellie even felt like she looked a bit different when she looked in a mirror. There was a glow to her; a sense of happiness that wasn’t just rare for her but something that she had once deemed an impossibility. She felt changed for the better.

It was easy to love Marley. It had happened naturally- like breathing. You don’t have to remember how to breathe. . . it just happens. With you it was different. Obsessive, maddening, all inhabiting affection. You’d wrapped your dainty hands around her heart tight, tight, tight. Every skip and butterfly is a gentle reminder that this was something. The both of you are something, and that is enough.

She smiles before she even has her eyes open. She can feel your fingers on her bare arms, and for a second she ponders whether or not she’s in heaven. . . or perhaps still dreaming. Waking up in your bed, the scent of your shampoo on all of the pillows and your soft hands on her- she could die right there, your room, her tomb. The headboard, her headstone.

“Are you real?” She whispers, her voice hoarse and still thick with sleep. She’s looking at you with those great, big green eyes. Your eyes are glued to the small collection of freckles just above her top lip, but you hear her.

“M’ real.” You mumble out a confirmation, propping your head up on your hand so that you can lean over her. You know your hair is a mess. . . but she’s studying your face with a silent sort of appreciation that has your throat feeling thick with emotion.

She’s soft. Ellie’s soft and wants to take care of you. She showers you and your daughter with affection without ever having to be asked to. Why? Because she wants to do it. You find it hard to believe that anyone would want to go out of their way like this. Especially for someone like you. You were a young mother who hadn’t gone to college. You lived in a tiny house, operated paycheck to paycheck, and had a few stretch marks on your tummy. You weren’t perfect. Not like Ellie deserved.

So why was she looking at you like that?

Oh god, how she stared at you. Her eyes were velvet soft as her eyes flickered over your face, taking in every feature. She’d never woken up next to you before. Your bedhead and glassy eyes had her heart blooming with warmth. The ceiling fan had a few strands of your hair falling into your eyes. She took the opportunity to tuck them behind your ear, feeling the softness of your skin. She committed that to memory too.

“I really like this.” Ellie finally admits, bottom jaw quivering a bit. She fiddles with her fingers under your comforter, a nervous habit.

“What?” You ask her incredulously. If Ellie’s eyes weren’t open she’d still know you were smiling. She could hear it in the way you spoke, and it had her seeing stars. And Ellie really, really loved stars. “Looking at my bedhead? You better not take any pictures.” You were already smoothing your hair down with your hands, brushing through a few tangles.

She caught your arms, shaking her head the best she could with it still resting on your pillows. “Waking up next to you. Being here with you two- this is really nice.” It was more than nice, but she didn’t want to scare you away by coming on too strongly.

You opened your mouth, getting ready to agree with her, but the familiar sound of tiny feet had you sitting up fully so that you could turn and face the doorway. You shot Ellie an apologetic smile, but she merely shook her head, sitting up as well with a small smile. She didn’t seem burdened by the existence of your daughter, which was something you weren’t used to.

Marley’s hair was an absolute disaster, per usual. It looked like she’d been caught headfirst in a tornado,wispy hairs bobbing as she shuffled closer to the bed in her footie pajamas. She had insisted on wearing them last night despite the fact that it wasn’t exactly cold enough for them. Her cheeks were pink and it was obvious that she had sweat in her sleep last night. You felt a tinge of guilt for letting her get her way, praying that Ellie didn’t think you were a bad mother for giving in so easily to her sweet demands. Sometimes it was impossible to say no to her.

She stood at the side of the bed for a few seconds, eyes still half lidded and dazed with sleep. For a second she just stared at you and Ellie, as if trying to connect the dots that someone else was in your house. It was incredibly unusual to have guests over at the house. . . well, that was before Ellie. Marley climbed up onto the bed, pushing away your eager hands when you tried to reach out for her.

Your little girl was headed straight for Ellie. You bit the inside of your cheek, feigning a look of jealousy when Marley wrapped her tiny arms around the other woman’s neck. Ellie’s eyes widened as she held the small girl to her chest, cheeks growing warm when she realized just how much your daughter liked her. She wanted to blame the constant presents and sweet treats, but that wasn’t the case. Marley loved Ellie because she was patient with her. She took the time to sit down with her, ask her questions- hell, Ellie even played with her, which your own mother often wasn’t in the mood to do.

“I can’t believe you, Marles.” You gasped out, nose wrinkling in faux dismay. You rubbed her arm up and down, trying to gently get her attention. Marley looked up at you through her long lashes, plopping her head down on Ellie’s shoulder in a very dramatic, very Marley fashion.

“She chose me fair and square.” Ellie boasted, using her hand to try and smooth down her crazy bedhead.

You took a mental picture, eyes pinching at the corners with the force of your smile. Marley had curled herself up into a ball and didn’t seem prepared to budge any time soon. Ellie didn’t even attempt to hand her off to you. Instead the woman stood up with a small groan, her black sweatpants hanging low on her waist. You tried not to stare at the exposed flesh of her stomach as her tank top rode up but failed miserably. The brunette turned her head to face you, having felt the heat of your gaze, and the both of you exchanged a knowing smile.

“She has her legs pulled up to her chest,” Ellie said with a chuckle, her arms secured tightly around your child. “You’re like a little potato.” She pressed a quick kiss to Marley’s hair when the tiny girl started giggling at the comparison.

“M’ not!” Marley squealed, sticky hands tanging into Ellie’s cropped hair. You watched as she gave her hair a tug, your stomach tensing in panic.

You started to stand up, ready to scold your daughter for her rough treatment, but Ellie was already walking down the hall. You sat in disbelief for a second, questioning whether or not you should go in and check on the two of them. You so rarely had time to yourself like this. It felt wrong to take advantage of this opportunity, but you had a feeling that Ellie had done this on purpose.

Was she trying to drop hints that you looked bad? You were absolutely exhausted last night, so you wouldn’t be surprised if your face was a mess and your clothes in disarray. You anxiously raked through your hair, kicking the tangled sheets off of your legs so that you could run to the nearest mirror.

“Are pancakes for breakfast alright?” Ellie had ducked her head back into the bedroom, a beaming Marley still propped up on her hip. You jumped at the sudden voice, glaring in her direction as she chuckled at your expense.

You weren’t used to being so hard on yourself as far as your appearance goes. Impressing people, these days, was the last thing on your mind. Ellie felt the same way though. She’d be a liar if she said that she hadn’t checked herself out in the mirror you had in the living room, anxious that she looked like hammered dog shit after drooling all over your pillow.

The weight of your head on her chest had her sleeping like a damn baby last night. Marley had acted as a wonderful distraction from her own embarrassment, especially when she realized the back of her hair was practically sticking straight up.

What you didn’t know was that she’d never spent the night with a girl. Not romantically, at least. The both of you were in the exact same anxious boat, and while Ellie knew that she was your first, you had no inkling that you were a lot of her firsts as well.

“Pancakes?” You parroted back to her, wetting your dry lips.

You began tallying up totals in your head, trying to figure out whether or not you had the cash to grab breakfast. You would like to treat Ellie and Marley. . . but after paying the water and the power bill two days ago, you barely had enough to put gas in your car. You felt your cheeks heating up as you tried to come up with a nice way to say “I don’t have the money for pancakes” without sounding like a shitty adult and an even shittier mother.

Ellie could see the way you were over thinking things, her eyes nervously flickering to your closet. You only had a few articles of clothing for yourself, and yet she’d never seen Marley wear the same outfit twice. She’d seen you with your calculator at the grocery store, nervously staring at a total. She knew that you weren’t financially secure- you were a young single mother. The brunette smiled at you, shoving her hands in her pockets as she leaned against the doorframe.

“I make really good pancakes, and it looks like you have everything I need. Marley would be an amazing help too. She’d make my job a lot easier.” She rocked back on the heels of her gray socks, biting the inside of her cheek as she looked at you.

You looked nervous, tired, and adorable as hell. Your band t-shirt was rumpled with sleep and you were standing in tiny white socks, all self conscious and overly critical. She wanted to kiss you… but she hadn’t brushed her teeth.

“Let me go ahead and take her to the bathroom first,” You ran through your daily checklist in your mind, though not forgetting to flash her a thankful smile that nearly had the girl’s legs buckling. “Oh! Uh. . . I have an extra toothbrush. You can have it. Do you want to use the restroom first? It’ll give me some time to get her outfit together for the day.”

Ellie wanted to be selfless and tell you that she didn’t want to go first, but her breath was probably stale and the last thing she wanted was for you to be grossed out by her. She couldn’t fuck this up. She refused to.

You found Marley in her bedroom, having already strewn toys around the room. You let out a small huff of breath, realizing that today was probably going to be a rough one. Each day was different with your little girl. One day she was a perfect angel, only doing what she was told. Other days. . . well, rambunctious didn’t fully encompass her level of energy. Today was going to be one of those days.

“Alrighty, Marles! Let’s pick out a pretty outfit, alright?” You started to walk to her closet, but froze as she began shaking her head. “You don’t want to put on a dress? Or what about some overalls so you can play better?”

“No!” She screamed, running to the other side of her room so that she could grab a few more stuffed animals off of her bed. She tossed those on the ground too, even going as far as to plop down on the floor.

You had hoped that Ellie wouldn’t see this. At least. . . not so soon into the relationship. If she couldn’t accept Marley on bad days like this then you knew she wasn’t the right person for you, but still- you had hoped to slowly introduce this lifestyle to her. Not flat out throw her to the metaphorical wolves. Or. . . to Marley. You felt your bottom lip quiver, but you caught it between your teeth, giving it a few nervous chews before you sat down next to her.

“Do you want to stay in your pajamas?” Your tone was nothing but loving and patient. You were used to this, but Ellie wasn’t. You could only pray that she could accept you. All of you.

“Yes! Please, mommy.” She was getting better at articulating her thoughts and feelings. You found it impossible to deny her when she spoke to you like this. Especially when she asked politely.

So you found herself nodding, flashing her a megawatt smile that she happily returned. You could make a special day out of this. Pancakes and pajamas? It sounded heavenly.

“You’re so polite, baby girl! Alright, we’ll stay in our pajamas today. How about that? And Ellie said that you’re going to help her make breakfast. Are you going to be a big help?”

“Yeah.” She replied, already focused on the baby doll in front of her.

Her hands were still stained a little pink from making the play-doh last night. Once she remembers that she has that to play with too, you can only imagine the mess she’ll make on your dining room table.

You’re beautiful and patient. Ellie watches the two of you interact from the hallway, her breath all minty and her smile all wide. She thinks that she can live like this forever.

And she prays that she gets to.

@viswifetotallyreal​  @lillysbigwilly​  @overtrred28​  @corpsebridenightamare​ @jokerpokimoon @macaroni676 @eveshyper @lil-elliesgf @fuckingstarellie @gold-dustwomxn @madislayyy @moonbluz @vianna99 @sawaagyapong @mrsromanoff @glory-grl @sadeyedsugar @inf3ct3dd @teatimedisaster @laucalo @ellieswilliamsgf @machetegirl109 @moonchild184 @onlinelesbo @lasting-lover @luvrrcharr @koremis @elsmissingfingers @whoreshores @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @circe-is-struggling @cqrrnts @elliewilliamsmiller0 @harrysslutsstuff @shewantstoknow @laundrybag29 @darkerstarsstuff @elliesdesperatewife @rulerzreachf4n44 @eviestevie-14 @deliriousrn @diddiqueen @bready101 @felsweb @jaeminpookie @elliesswearjar @2012wannabe @abbysbae @boobabietch @amorqts

[love-quinn]

— COLLECTORS' GUIDE

summary — you love books, and spencer can't figure out why you don't have a single one inside your apartment. his only solution is, of course, to buy you some.

warnings — swearing, reader has a toxic ex

pairing — spencer agnew x fem!mythical reader

pronouns — none (you/yours)

featuring — spencer agnew, nicole enayati, vianai austin (mentioned), kiana parker (mentioned)

word count — 1.8k

note — as someone who LOVES mythical kitchen i've been toying around with the idea of spencer and someone from that show or even just mythical in general, also she was speaking to me she told me she's a bookworm i don't make the rules sorry. thank you so much for all the love on my last two spencer fics <333 hope you enjoy

LA’s a big city; it’s loud, it’s dirty, and it’s busy. Working in the industry you do, you don’t have a whole lot of calmness in your life, which is why you make it your personal mission to make your apartment as soft and cozy as possible. 

You pile your couch with throw blankets and pillows, you have lamps where you can control the brightness, you hang art on the walls and you love it there. You layer your rugs and you keep candles on every shelf. Your apartment is one hundred percent yours, and that’s the reason Spencer likes spending time there as much as he does. 

You and Spencer are a fairly new couple, you’ve only been together a few weeks, and he still can’t quite believe the two of you are together. You work in the Mythical side of the office as a producer and sometimes on-camera for Mythical Kitchen so the two of you see each other fairly often but not every single day.

He likes to think he knows you pretty well – he is your boyfriend. But one of his favorite parts about being in this relationship with you is getting to learn more about you. Neither of you are shooting anything today so he decides to drop by your desk during his lunch break. You’re on yours too, you and Nicole are chatting across your desks, you have half a wrap in one hand and a folded over paperback novel in the other and Spencer brightens at seeing you.

“Hi, babe,” he drops a kiss on your hairline, leaning over and peering at what you’re doing. “I was gonna see if you wanted to go for lunch with me but you seem to have it covered.” 

You tilt your head back to look him in the eye, face lighting up. “Hi! I didn’t know you were coming over here.”

He shrugs, leaning on the back of your chair. Nicole excuses herself to go meet Vi for lunch like they planned and offers Spencer her chair while she’s gone so he doesn’t have to hover. Spencer watches you smile up at her as she leaves and can’t stop the frown from making its way onto his face. 

“You’re not going with them?” From what he knew, the three of you were really good friends, at the very least close coworkers. Seeing Nicole talk about her plans with your mutual friend right in front of you without inviting you felt… not wrong, but definitely weird.

You just shake your head. “No, Thursdays I usually eat by myself, they go out somewhere.” You catch the look on Spencer’s face and amend yourself quickly. “They do invite me, I just prefer to eat my lunch at my desk, I can get a chapter or two in before they get back.”

Spencer looks down at the paperback in your hand again. “What’re you reading?”

You hold it up for him. It’s an older book, with frayed edges and a peeling vinyl cover, a grainy lighthouse on the front. He takes it when you offer it and flicks through it, careful not to disturb the bookmark. “I was gonna take it back to the library on Saturday and get a new one, but I can come over after that?”

Spencer shakes his head, only now just seeing the Los Angeles Public Library sticker on the back cover. “Can I come with you? Unless that’s like, something you wanna do by yourself or whatever? I didn’t know you went to the library.”

You take the book back and put it on your desk, out of the way. You and Spencer have wordlessly begun to split the wrap that you’d packed for lunch, something you’d made at home that made his mouth water. “Yeah, of course you can come. I go most weeks, I try to read a book every week but sometimes, y’know,” you gesture around the office.

That’s how Spencer finds himself on the steps of the LAPL for what he believes to be the first time. He’d been to libraries before, obviously, but not since leaving Florida, and not for a long time. He knows you like to read, there’s often a paperback in your hand or your purse or your car, it’s your quiet time activity. He just assumed you bought your own books, but getting to walk hand in hand with you through the stacks as you browse, he definitely sees the appeal. 

You find your new book of the week and hold it up to him gleefully, and you don’t even have to pull him along to the desk for him to follow you dutifully. Spencer would let you stay in there for hours, gazing lovingly over at you as you talk familiarly with the librarian. 

Eventually, you cut yourself off and excuse yourself to return to your boyfriend, knowing that his ideal weekend plans probably didn’t include letting you drag him around the library. You really like Spencer, you don’t want to hijack all of your time together. 

Spencer hasn’t even considered that. In fact, he is actively planning the next time that the two of you can come back, desperate to see you so happy again. Desperate to make you that happy. 

It becomes almost a routine. The two of you begin your weekend by going out for breakfast somewhere, Spencer follows you around the library and then the two of you go home and spend the rest of the day quietly in one of your apartments. Usually it involves him playing Zelda on the couch with your feet in his lap while you churn through your book.

You fold around each other comfortably. You have your separate friends, your separate jobs (well… technically separate), and your separate hobbies. But as the weeks turn into months, Spencer sinks right into your little oasis in your apartment. 

His clothes end up in your drawers, he starts going in to work with homemade meals that are obviously made by someone who graduated culinary school (i.e, not him). Love pours endlessly out of every crevice, and Spencer feels like he’s drowning in it. Spencer loves his apartment, it’s his home, but as somebody who also loves you he loves your apartment a lot as well.

It feels like every single time he goes over he finds out something new about you and the way you love, which is why he’s not quite so sure why it took him so long to notice the empty shelves in your room.

You’re on your phone, lying on your stomach with your feet by the head of the bed. Spencer is just coming back from the kitchen, your coffee order in his hand when he notices it. “Are you gonna put something on that shelf?”

You look up from your phone to see the shelf he’s gesturing to. Spencer can’t pretend not to notice the way that your face falls. “Uh, sure. I can if you want?”

Spence shrugs as he comes to sit down beside you. You wriggle up so you’re sitting and take the coffee out of his hand. “I don’t care, babe. It’s your room.” He plants a kiss on the side of your face and swiftly moves on. “I just remembered on Saturday I made plans with Kiana, so I’m gonna have to skip the library, I’m sorry.” He does seem genuinely sorry to be missing out on the time spent with you, you deflate subtly.

“That’s totally fine,” you return his kiss. “Tell her I say hi. I’m not done with my current one anyway, so I might just stay home.” You love the library, you spend a lot of time there, but you’re looking forward to a nice morning by yourself at home. Then, you remember the date and groan quietly under your breath. “Never mind, I have to go in to renew it anyway, or else I’ll get another late fee.”

You’d only ever returned a library book late once in your entire life, something that Spencer found completely adorable. Especially so the fact that you viewed it as such a big deal. 

“I guess that’s the price you pay for them being free,” Spencer points out. 

You hum, “I wouldn’t mind having one or two that I get to keep,” you say it so concretely, so nonchalantly. As though it’s not actually something you’re able to do.

“Why don’t you buy a couple?”

You glance over at the empty shelves. “‘Cause it’s like, childish?”

Spencer frowns, sitting up straighter. “Babe, do you think I’m childish?”

You rush to fix your mistake. “No! Of course not, that’s not at all what I meant-”

Spencer takes your hand, putting the empty coffee cup on your nightstand. It’s filled with his things and that makes his heart swell. “No, I know you weren’t calling me childish. But do you think I am?” When you shake your head, he continues. “I have like, video game bullshit all over my place. You’re not childish for having things that you like in your apartment. Plus, books are like the most normal out of all collectibles.” His eyes are deep and sincere and you roll your heels underneath you, moving so your legs are spread out in front of you. “You want books? Buy a million fucking books, babe.”

You sigh, biting your bottom lip. “I know, it’s… I used to have stuff on that shelf,” you admit. “I had a bunch of books, I’d been collecting some of them since I was a kid and everything. My last boyfriend he, well. Doesn’t matter, long story short, I came home from work one day and they were all gone.”

Spencer is probably the last guy you’d expect to see involved in a fistfight. He’s 5 '6, he loves Hawaiian shirts and there is video evidence of him Fortnite dancing. But more than that, though, he loves you, which is why his first instinct is to go find whoever it was that did that and fuck them up.

“That’s so messed up?” He can’t even wrap his head around it. “Babe, what? No, oh my god.” He can’t even formulate a coherent sentence. You love so liberally, so generously, that the idea that someone had thrown away something you love made him physically sick.

“I’m so sorry that he did that to you, that’s fucked. Not your fault you know how to read and he doesn’t.” That makes you laugh, your chest shaking as you lean into him. He wraps an arm around you and kisses your temple, rubbing your forearm gently. 

He and Kiana have plans on Saturday, and he has no intention of bailing on them, but that doesn’t stop him from pulling out his phone and texting her, asking if she’d be willing to make another stop with him while they were together.

The next Saturday, you get home from renewing your library book to find your boyfriend waiting out the front of your apartment. He beams at you as you reach him and you don’t have to look inside the box to know that once you stop kissing him you’ll find the beginnings of your next book collection. 

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Twelve

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Ducky and Jake tiptoe around each other; Bob attends Ducky's 20 week scan

WC: 1.3K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

The apartment was empty when you returned. Just a note on the counter. 

Staying at Bradshaw’s for the night

– J

You sighed and put your purse down. It was what you had wanted. So why didn’t it feel good to win? 

***

Jake spent half of the night pacing Bradley’s house, a small bungalow near the beach. At around three in the morning, Bradley emerged in a pair of boxers and no shirt, rubbing his eyes. “Hangman?” 

Jake turned, bags starting to form under his eyes. 

“You OK man?” Bradley asked, standing in the doorway to the living room. 

Jake shook his head. “Yeah, sorry, didn’t realize I was being loud.” 

Bradley sagged against the wood frame. “It’s Y/N isn’t it?” 

He nodded. “Always.” 

“When are you gonna admit you’re into her?” 

Jake stopped dead in his tracks. “What?” 

“We all talk about it all the time,” Bradley said, crossing his arms. “You like her. She liked you enough to sleep with you. And now here you are kissing random girls in the bar and she’s running off crying.” 

“She cried?” 

“No, she peed on the sand, but same thing.” 

Jake frowned. “What? How is that the same?” 

“It just is, OK.” Bradley shook his head. 

Jake squinted. “You guys don’t actually talk about us, do you?” 

“Come on,” Bradley said. “I know you’re more self absorbed than that.” 

“She doesn’t want me,” he said quietly. “She told me to go out and see other people.” Jake paused. “She said she would, too, if it didn’t look so weird, with the baby and all.” 

Bradley rolled his eyes and turned to go. “You two are so fucking stupid, I swear.” 

***

Bob picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” 

“Bobby,” you said into the phone. “Will you come to my appointment with me today?” 

“I, uh, what time is it at?” 

“Four.” 

“OK, yeah, I can do that. Pick you up at 3:30 from work?” 

“Yes, please.” 

There was a moment of silence where you both knew what the other was thinking. He wanted to know why you had asked him. You didn’t want him to tell Jake. 

“See you soon, Duck,” he said, hanging up the phone and you let out a sigh of relief. 

That afternoon, you sat in a paper gown on the medical table as Bob sat in the chair near the door, bouncing his leg in his green flight suit. “You smell like gasoline,” you complained. “It’s making me want to throw up.” 

“I didn’t have time to change,” he replied, leg still bouncing. 

“Stop jiggling, you’re making me nauseous.” 

“Will you stop complaining when the baby comes?” 

“No, it’ll just be a new set of complaints.” 

“Lucky me.” 

There was a knock and then the door opened. “Y/N? How are you?” 

“Doing OK,” you replied, shifting your weight from one hip. “This is my brother, Bob.” 

“Ma’am,” he said, standing up and holding out a hand. She took it and smiled. 

“Dr. Whitman. Nice to meet you.” She walked over to the sink and washed her hands before pulling on a pair of gloves. “So, twenty weeks. Halfway there.” 

“Thank God,” you muttered. 

The doctor laughed. “Any trouble sleeping or heartburn or indigestion.” 

“Whatever you name, I’ve got it.” 

She smiled. “Well, I can give you a prescription for some heartburn medication. If you want to just pull your shirt up, we can take a look to see how baby is doing.” 

You inched the edge of your paper dress up, the roundness of your stomach shocking every time you caught a glimpse. The jelly was cold, as always, and you found yourself holding your breath as she moved the wand around until you heard it. 

The steady beat of your baby’s heart. 

“Strong heartbeat,” the doctor said. “Baby is about seven inches.” She turned to you. “Do you want to know the gender?” 

You looked over at Bob, who had climbed out of his seat and was standing next to the table, one of his hands on your shoulder. “Bobby?” 

“I’m here.” 

You sucked in a deep breath. “Yes, I’d like to know.” 

“It’s a girl.” 

You closed your eyes. It was overwhelming. You couldn’t put into words how you felt. 

And then you felt a tear fall on your shoulder. But it wasn’t yours. When you opened your eyes, Bob was crying. 

He pressed his lips to your temple, arms wrapped around your shoulders. “A girl,” he whispered, tears and laughter caught in his throat all at once. 

You placed your hands on either side of your belly button and closed your eyes. 

***

When you got home, you taped the sonogram to the fridge. Jake had returned from Bradley’s, but the two of you had been frosty. A simple hello or excuse me as you passed each other in the living room. It was like living with a complete stranger. 

You didn’t want to freeze him out. But whenever you went to talk to him, the image of him with the girl in the bar came to mind and you felt bile rising in your throat. There was a part of you, somewhere buried, that wanted Jake Seresin for yourself. 

For your daughter. 

At twenty weeks, you already had trouble sleeping. After an hour of tossing and turning, you got up and eased open the door, rubbing your eyes as you headed for the kitchen in a skimpy nightgown. 

As you rounded the corner into the kitchen, Jake stood facing the fridge, completely still. He barely moved when you entered, stopping short the minute you saw him. 

“Oh.” It fell out of your mouth before you could even stop it. 

Jake turned, slowly. There were bags beneath his eyes. His normally golden skin looked sallow. His hair, always so perfectly tousled, had lost some of its luster. “When was the appointment?” he asked. 

“Yesterday.” 

“You didn’t want me there.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. There was pain laced in every word. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to be there.” 

Jake’s face hardened. You watched in real time. The way his green eyes went dark and the hands at his sides flexed into fists. “Don’t you understand, Y/N, that it my child you’re carrying. Mine. Of course I wanted to be there. But you wouldn’t let me. Because you’re punishing me.” 

“I’m not punishing you.” 

“Yes you are!” It came out as a roar. You stepped back, one hand over your stomach. Jake’s eyes dropped to your hand. “I’m sorry.” It was a plea. Soft and gravely and depressed. “I fucked up, OK. This is so fucked up.” 

“My next appointment is in a month,” you replied softly. “Do you want to come with?” 

Jake lifted his eyes to yours. “Yes.” 

“OK,” you replied. “Can I?” You motioned to the fridge and Jake nodded, stepping aside as you grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the door filter. 

“Goodnight,” Jake said, backing out of the kitchen as you closed the fridge door, the slice of light growing thinner and thinner until it disappeared and the two of you were bathed in darkness, just the diagonal strip of moonlight shining from the window above the sink. 

“Jake?” 

“Yeah?” 

You smiled. “It’s a girl.” 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@blue-aconite @withahappyrefrain @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @gigisimsonmars @xomrsalliej4787xo @myfaveficrecs @mycobrakai1972 @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @justanothermagicalsara @je-suis-prest-rachel @shanimallina87

@rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me  @kmc1989 @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @bbyvanessaa  @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @boiolay @sometimesanalice @na-ta-sh-aa @bobfloydsbabe @kmc1989 @rosiahills22 @palepeanutponyshoe @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @mel119g @daggerspare-standingby @grxcisxhy-wp @mrsjobarnes @csmt-m @rockbottompunk-blog @joaquinwhorres @xoxabs88xox @spinning-away

[marleyybluu]

Four and Counting

husband!Oscar Diaz x fem!black!reader

Word count: 4.4k (oops)

Warnings: everything is fluff, the cutest couple alive, another pregnancy, hints at abortion (but supportingly?), Oscar being the cutest fucking husband, self-indulgent asf cant lie like I want be in love like this

if i missed any lmk

AN: yall do not know how long this mf has been in my drafts omg I finally finished. This fic is just drowning in love. No smut 🤷🏾‍♀️. A bit rushed in certain places but it all fits pretty well in my opinion. this is not the end of the series but its like the end of the main chapters. there will be lore on the couple obvi, updates on the kids and the family as a whole bcus i am obsessed. hope yall enjoy.

You didn't know how it happened, you blinked and soon there were four. You had four kids running around your home filling it with innocent joy and laughter, and the occasional attitude. It was a full house and a busy life, but it could be enjoyable. You'd become a stay-at-home mom. At first, you weren't sure if you'd be able to manage, you loved your job a lot and worked extremely hard for it but with your growing family, your kids needed you more.

With Oscar opening a second restaurant you thought it'd be a good idea to bring up what's been gnawing away at you and he tells you that he's behind you no matter what path you choose. You put in your letter of resignation and bid your co-workers a teary-eyed farewell with promises to visit as much as they can. You had to admit it was a nice break, you didn't have to wake up as early, you weren't on your feet as much and the house was nice and quiet for a few hours when your children were either in school or at daycare. But then you had baby Rosie and your house had returned to a screaming, hollering mess.

She was a loud one and very expressive, babbled and cooed to anyone who would listen. "And then what happens after that?" You say laying next to her gently stroking her hair. She kicks her feet with excitement and responds in her usual baby language. "Oh my goodness." You respond. You could do this all day. You hated to admit it but you missed the baby stage so much and you were grateful for your little one. You'd been lounging around all day, only getting up to shower when she had fallen asleep and the occasional time when you needed to grab her bottle.

You pepper her chunky face in kisses and she squeals with happiness. "Que hermosa." You giggle. You two are so wrapped up in your world you don't even hear when the door unlocks and Oscar strolls in, he decides to check in on you since everything at the restaurant was going fine today. He notices the obvious vacancy of your presence downstairs and stumbles into the kitchen thinking you were feeding Rosie but he was wrong. He hears his baby's infamous noises from upstairs and smiles following the sweet noises. He creeps in on you two.

His head lolls to the side and rests on the door frame. He'd seen you like this many times (clearly) and it never got old. The way you lovingly interact with each child at any stage in their life, it was sweet to witness you give the same sweet eyes to Rafa at his big age as you did when he was a baby. Just a gentle reminder that he chose the right woman to marry, the best one to make a mother.

Rosie turns her little head and screams when her eyes land on her father. "Hola, mi corazoncito." He coos entering the room matching the same excitement as his baby which causes her to become even more riled up. He scoops her up and holds her in the air and all you can do is watch and grin like the Cheshire Cat. He brings her down and kisses her cheeks. "Cómo estás, mi mariposa?" He asks Rosie and she nuzzles her forehead in his cheek. Her nonverbal way of saying she missed him. Oscar takes his place next to you on the bed. "How are you, mama?"

You pucker your lips and he smiles dropping a kiss. You pout at how quick it was but quickly subsides when he gives you a forehead kiss. "I'm good. Sleepy. Hungry. Missing you."

"Missed you too, that's why I came home. And I brought some food from work."

You squinted. "Who cooked it?"

He chuckled. "Jason."

"Yes!" You fist pump. "Jason makes the best fucking food I swear."

Oscar's head seems to tilt even more, he's insulted by your statement but you smile sheepishly placing an encouraging hand on his shoulder. "Not as amazing as you do." He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple. Rosie babbles as her little reminder that she's still in the room. "No one forgot you chica" He affirms giving her some more smooches. "Let's go get mommy her food."

You sit up and stretch; some much-needed cracks are heard via your aching bones, and when your arms come down, you feel much looser and less tense than before. "It's okay, iré contigo." (I'll come with you.)

The three of you plop down the stairs and you part ways as Oscar heads to the kitchen while you shuffle to the living room and drop onto the couch, your lounging was short-lived when the doorbell rang. You huff getting back up on your feet. You swing the door open with a mean mug on your face until your eyes land on your mom and your features immediately soften.

"Hi, Mommy." You smile reaching out for her. "Hi sweetie, how are you?"

"I'm great," You pull her inside and close the door behind her. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugs off her jacket and hangs it up on the rack nearby, her shoes slip off her feet and she places those next to Spooky's on the mat. "Came to visit, figured you'd need some... company..." She trails off and— not so subtly— stretches out her neck to see if she can spot the baby. "Mhm." You say crossing your arms, you call bullshit.

"She's in the kitchen with Spooky."

And just like that, your mother leaves you in her dust. You hear her high-pitched, "Hiiiii GG's babyyyyy, helloooo." And you can't help but smile. Your mom always seemed to become happier with each grandchild you produced.

You begin to feel left out when you hear all the commotion in the kitchen so you decide to join them. Your daughter has your mom's nose in her small fist while your mom blows raspberries in her little tummy, she erupts with laughter and you catch a glimpse of Oscar with nothing but heart eyes for his baby girl. You sneak over to him and slide your arms around his abdomen, he drops his arm over your shoulder and draws you close. He plants a kiss on your head. The microwave beeps behind you signalling that whatever was in there had finished heating up. Your eyes widen when the aroma of cheese hit your senses. "Is that lasagna?"

He nodded. "Yeah. He made a little dish for you, told him you've been craving it lately."

You squeal with excitement as you take the hot dish out of the microwave, you set it on the counter and danced over to the drawers in hot search for a fork, your successful in finding one and greedily stick it inside the soft noodles that were jam packed with delicious ingredients. You take one bite and practically faint at the taste.

"Just needs one more thing." You think out loud, you hustle over to the pantry and grab a bag of barbecue chips, you snag a handful and crack them in your hand, sprinkling them on top. Oscar stands there... confused.

"Girl, what the hell is that?" Your mom asks equally appalled.

You shrug and take another bite. "It's good though." You muffle with a full mouth.

"I love you." Oscar sighs and you laugh at his adoration for anything you do, you blow him a kiss before taking another bite. You don't see it but your mom has her eye on you with a very interesting theory brewing in her head. Your husband's phone rings and he excuses himself to answer it leaving you alone with your mom and Rosie, who is quiet and happy on her grandmother's chest, her little eyes slowly closing with sleep.

You try your best not to make too much noise while you reach for more-

"Are you pregnant again?"

You nearly choke on your saliva at the ridiculous question. You quickly shake your head. "No!? Are you nuts? I just had her and she is the last one." You assure but your mom isn't believing it. "This little concoction says otherwise."

You roll your eyes. "I just... like pasta and chips... together."

It did sound ridiculous.

"Since when?"

"Like... a month ago..."

She sucks her teeth. "Mi amor, I'm telling you, I think you're pregnant."

This was insane, this was an insane conversation to be having. You were one hundred percent sure there was nothing and no one in your belly-- just the mere thought of having two under two was giving you the heebie-jeebies. "I'm just saying-"

You groan like the irritated teenager you once were, "Ay Mama, no más charlas de bebé, por favor." (No more baby talk, please.)

She agrees to ease off the topic but it remains in the back of her mind.

-- --

Later that day after Oscar's gathered the others from school, you sneak out of the house to do some grocery shopping. It was a bit of time for yourself, a time when you didn't have to keep your eye on your tiny little humans. You go through the aisles for the essentials and when that's done you browse for treats and snacks for your kids (that you and Oscar will eventually munch on as well.)

You cautiously approach the next aisle that is stacked with condoms, contraceptives and pregnancy tests. You meant to move, your hands ready to push the cart forward but your feet are firmly planted on the floor. You sigh and turn in, quickly grabbing a box and dumping it in the cart as though it's not for you. "She better be fucking wrong." You mutter to yourself.

-- --

With all kids fed, bathed and in bed before twelve it allows you to have the bathroom to yourself for a while. You wedge the knuckle of your index finger between your two rows of teeth, you stare at the box and sigh. "Please prove her wrong." You whisper to no one in particular. You pop open the box and rip open the wrapping of the test. One original and one digital. You sit on the toilet and do what you've done a hundred times, you pee on the sticks and set them aside until the timer goes off.

You clean yourself up and wash your hands, you know better than to just stand there and watch the sticks waiting for that fate-sealing answer but you go against yourself and stare. You're in a trance until there's a knock at the door, it startled you and you clutch your non-existent pearls for dear life. "Que?"

Oscar asks, "You good? Didn't need company tonight?" He's referring to your commonly shared showers which, now that you think about it, is probably one of the reasons you're in this predicament again!

"No, it's not that. I'm just..."

You huff and unlock the door swinging it open with displeasure on your face, your arms crossed as you nod over to the tests on the counter. His eyes follow your actions and pop out when he sees them. "How-"

"Mom said it was weird that I ate the lasagna like that."

He chuckled. "Didn't want to say anything." 

You whine saying, "It's not funny, I just thought it was a change in my palette or something, I mix random foods all the time. I-" You searched for every excuse you could find. Oscar's face softens at the worry in your voice. "I just had Rosie." You sigh sounding depleted. You turn your back to the tests when you hear that all too familiar sound. You squeeze your eyes shut, if you don't look you won't know the answer and you can go about your merry way. Your husband offers to look for you and leans over. You hear the quietest gasp he's ever uttered and you know. You spin around to look at them yourself.

Positive. Both of them show positive.

You look up at Spooky and he's already looking at you waiting for your reaction so he can curate his own. "How do you feel about it?"

You shrug. You truly didn't know, you didn't even have words. Your throat was dry. You pick up one of them and look at it. And you feel nothing. Empty. Just waiting for a sense of gratitude to come across and for some reason, you can't seem to produce it. You put the test down and leave.

Spooky's still standing there with his heart in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he should've listened to you, that two was enough, and then three and four. He's after you, right on your heels as you enter your bedroom. You sit on the bed and fall back onto the sheets, you cover your eyes and shake your head at yourself and him. "I just had Rosie." You repeat to yourself. And then it happens. A tear slips and as quick as you are to wipe it, he knows you like the back of his hand— your breathing gets choppy and choked, you sniffle. The bed dips beside you and the sound of the sheets ruffling as he lays down.

"Háblame." (Talk to me)

You take a deep breath. You can be honest. "I don't know how I feel. I'm not sad but I'm not happy. I just hoped Rosie would be a little older. They all have good age gaps and- Oh god, what if they don't want another sibling? And Rosie and I spend so much time together, they just got used to her-- Emilia was so clingy when I had her, she felt so left out and-and-"

Oscar presses his hand over your thigh. "Cariño. Respirar. Por favor.

You breathe shakily. "It's okay not to know how to feel. If this is not what you want... I'm here for you, your moms here... the kids are here. We have more than enough, Sí?"

You nod. He reaches over and pulls you into him, you rest your forehead on his chest while he rubs smooth circles on your back. "We have some time for you to think about it right? It's your world mi amor, we're just living in it. I got you no matter what."

"Spooky."

"Mhm."

"Thank you."

He smiles and kisses your head. "It's my job baby."

— — You'd been hiding your belly from everyone, even the kids. It was easy for the most part because you only wore baggy clothes and they made you look a little large anyway but then there were not so subtle signs— like the heavy breathing from doing just about anything, and your walk? Oh, your walk was not normal no matter how hard you tried. So you decide to come clean to your kids and other close family during a little gathering that Spooky's brother, Cesar, was hosting. Cesar was the only person who knew and you two asked if it'd be okay to announce it tonight.

He was fine with it, excited actually.

Your hands shake. You were cautious in deciding on having this baby, it took you a while to feel anything. At first, it was uncertainty, did you want another? Would you be crushed if you didn't have it?

But as the weeks passed you couldn't help but fall in love with the growth, the bigger you got the giddier you became. Modelling in front of the mirror any chance you got, and when all the kids were asleep you'd talk to your belly and giggle with every shift they made.

"Listo?"  He asks and you nod confidently. Oscar whistles over to Cesar giving him a thumbs up. Cesar turns down the music to gather everyone's attention. "I just want to thank everyone for coming out, it's been a while since we've all been in one place, right?"

The crowd mumbles in agreement. "But it's great to see everyone in good health and good spirits—" He raises his Corona bottle and the crowd follows with their drinks (including the kids and their juice boxes) "Salud." He smiles.

"Salud." The crowd repeats. You clear your throat and enthusiastically say, "Oh let me see if I can get a picture. Everyone gets in."

They shuffle into one pile as best they can, you grab your phone and hold it landscape, you press record and say, "Alright everybody in... great, now saaaay... Y/n and Spooky are having another babyyyy!"

There were collective gasps, the word "what!?" Being thrown around in every language. "Excuse me!?" Your mom hollers. You unbutton your cardigan and turn to the side having worn a tight dress on purpose. "Surpriiiiiise." You sing out.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" Jasmine screams stretching her arms out for you, you gasp and playfully smack her hand. "Not in front of my kids, puta!"

She tells you to shut up and hug her, your mom joins in and soon the children and in that moment it hits how loved and supported you are by everyone around you. This was your village and it was a damn good one too.

Oscar's friends dap him up and congratulate him. They hug you as well and whisper that they hope it's another girl. They loved spoiling your daughters. Anything they asked for the boys were sure to buy it no problema.

"Well, actually," You begin to say. "We know what we're having."

Rafa, your oldest comes up to you. "Is it a boy?" His eyes gloss over with the hope that you would say yes, he'd been hoping that Emilia (your third) was going to be a boy but he lucked out. You had an idea. You hunch over to match his eye level. "You see that cake over there." You whisper and he nods. "Papi and I were going to cut it, but I think you should get the first slice."

He shrugs and you walk him over to the white cream frosted cake. You and Oscar help him hold the knife and carefully slide the blade into the spongey treat making one incision and you help him make another. He pushes the knife under to take the slice out and plops it on his plate, he reaches for a fork when he looks down to see the inside was blue.

Nobody spoke. Nobody moved with the understanding this was his moment. He looks up at you. "You're having a boy!?"

You nod with tears spilling over and ruining your makeup. "I am."

He puts the plate down and hugs you tightly and that's when the crowd goes wild. "Thank you, Mommy." He sobs which makes you cry even more. "Oh, you're welcome sweetie."

— — Nine months had sped past you and it seemed as if it was just yesterday that you found out you were pregnant. Now, you lay on a hospital bed, covered over by a few blankets to help with post-partum shivers, your jaw rattling and fingers dancing involuntarily. But that wasn't your main focus.

Oscar hovered over you staring at the sleeping newborn in your arms. He made the cutest noises while he nuzzled against your chest. Your finger ghosts over his nose and he reacts by moving his head and sighing. "Are you sick of me already, mi hijo?(my son)" You joke nudging him with your nose. "You get used to her." Oscar chimes in and you suck your teeth hitting him as hard as you could. "Cállate culo."(Shut up, ass)

"Hitting me in front of my son?"

"And I'll do it again."

He smiles and leans down to kiss you. "You know I like you a little feisty, mami."

You sigh, so in love with your new baby, in love with your husband— just filled with overpouring affection. You can't stop staring at your new son and your husband couldn't stop gazing at either of you. He'd been in this room over and over and he swore up and down you made it look so easy, that you looked like a goddess bringing new air and life into this world. Even though you thought you looked like a monster from the swamp.

Oscar tells you in a loving tone. "You're doing an amazing job, seriously, you... you're just amazing."

You blink rapidly to keep tears from spilling over. When you met this man he was so rough and tough, such a brute that it seemed impossible to get him to even admit that he liked you, but under all that fake-cold persona, was the gentlest giant and the biggest sweetheart you'd ever met—a man who spreads nothing but positivity around you and your children.

"I'm so happy, I met you." He mutters. You were his wife, the mother of his children and his best friend rolled into one and that's all he wanted out of this life. You look up at him with glossy eyes. "I'm happy I met you too."

You share a kiss as a tear slips out, you just can't hold them back any longer. He kisses your forehead as his thumb swipes over your cheek. Your attention is drawn back to your son when he begins wiggling in your hold, you press your nose against his hair taking a whiff of that fresh baby smell. As you soak in the presence of your child, your husband's phone buzzes against the fabric of the diaper bag, he looks over and your mom's name catches his attention. He looks to you for some sort of permission and your brows furrow together. "It's okay."

He rushes over to answer, and just then your nurse walks in with a smile on her face. "Just came to check on mommy and baby." She announces.

"Ok... yeah, I'll meet you guys downstairs... bye." Oscar hangs up and looks over at you. "Your parents are here, with the kids. I'll just be back okay?"

"Mhm." You hum. He gives you a quick kiss before he speeds out of the room. The nurse smirks as she helps you adjust yourself into a somewhat comfortable sitting position, asking you if you'd like your son to be put back in the bassinet to which you respond yes and she gently takes him. "I apologize if this is forward but... I've seen a lot of couples in here and let me tell you, I've never seen anything like you two. He is so attentive."

You giggle. "Thank you. I just got really lucky with him."

A few minutes had passed and she had finished her check-up letting you know that she'd be back in a bit for another check-in. Once she left that's when your family, quietly, barged in. Oscar approaches you first with a sleeping Rosie in his arms and you happily reach for her and coddle her in your arms. Rafael, Elliana and Emilia gently charged over to you, shuffling off their shoes and finding their places on the bed with you. You greeted them as best as you could, with restricted movement all you could do was reach for their faces. Your parents and Oscar stand in the background of it all observing you in your motherly nature and Oscar can't fight the grin that has been plastered on his face since the day he met you.

"Baby." Emilia chimes in drawing everyone's attention to her now. "Yeah, mira, mommy had the baby."

Rafael seemed enamoured by the presence of his new sibling. He loved his sisters, you knew that, but by the looks of it-- this would be a special bond. "Rafa, would you like to hold him first?" Oscar asks.

He nodded eagerly and readied himself by sitting up straight and folding his arms. Oscar removes your son from his bassinet and carefully places him in Rafa's arms. The baby was a bit squirmy, upset that he'd been disturbed but with the soothing 'shhhh' from his mother's lips he settled down. Your two girls surround their brothers with curiosity.

Emilia giggles. "Hi, cutie."

"He's so tiny," Eliana mutters. Your parents finally make their way over to you after letting you have your moment with the kids. They congratulate you and your dad holds up a Chipotle bag and you beamed. "Thank you, this hospital food sucks." You whisper.

They attempted to take Rosie from you but you assured them it was fine, having missed her snuggles anyway. "Want me to feed you?" Your husband asks and you snicker shaking your head. "Está bien papito, I'll eat when I'm ready. But thank you."

— — After all the kids had their turn holding the baby their attention spans had turned to you and their father, telling you everything that had happened since you left the house.

"And then Ellie licked the cookie and put it back in my bowl," Rafa whines and you hold back a laugh. "Eliana you do not do that, that's gross."

She shrugs and nuzzles closer to her grandfather on the couch who is causing a ruckus with all his snoring. Your mom nudges him awake and he hits his famous line, "I'm not sleeping, I just closed my eyes."

"Think it's time for us to go." Your mom says. "Um.." Rafa chimes. "Is it okay if I stay?"

"I- yeah, I guess so." You answer. Oscar says that you'll keep Rosie since she has now found a new sleep space in his arms. Your mom carries a sleeping Emilia and your dad carries Eliana on his back. They say their goodbyes and are out the door.

— —

The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Rafael had fallen asleep on the couch while Rosie, who'd only woken up to ear and fell back into slumber, lay under her older brother's arm. You sigh contently as you gaze at them.

"Did you ever think when we met at that laundromat, that we'd be here?" Oscar mumbled as he held your baby boy, tracing his finger along his little nose. You turn to him. You shrug.

"Maybe with one kid... two.... But not five." You joked. He chuckled.

"Did you?"

He nods. "I knew you were gonna be my girl from the moment I picked up that sexy red bra you dropped-"

"Spookyyyy." You gasped gently hitting his arm.

He laughs. "Que? Man, once I saw those cups I started barking."

"You are so fucking stupid."

He shrugs. "I know. But I'm stupid in love with you."

You playfully rolled your eyes at his corny, yet sweet, line.

"I'm stupid in love with you too."

if you liked this fic feel free to like this fic. comments and reblogs are appreciated. hopefully, I'll be back a whole lot sooner. peace and love

tags: @darqchilddaydreamz @realhotgurlshit @skyesthebomb @librarian1002

Who might be interested: @miyahmaraj @bigenergy777 @educatorsareslutstoo @missdforever

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter One

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This whole story will deal with dark and smutty themes. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.4k

A/N : The full first chapter. For anyone that missed the first sneak peak, this is going to be a vampire fic, so it's going to have smut, dark themes, and blood mentions. I've been reading a lot of gothic novels lately so there's a bit of inspo from that in here. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one!

Chapter One

It was official; you'd lost your fucking mind.

You’d been standing outside the building for five minutes now, the paperwork tucked in your coat pocket feeling heavier by the second. Were you sure that you wanted to do this? Could you really give up a year of your life to serve a vampire?

What other choice did you have?

A lithe and pale figure watched from behind the tinted, UV proof glass while you changed your mind a dozen times over. After a few more minutes, the sun finally disappeared into the New York skyline, plunging the street into shadow.

The door opened.

The figure called your name, and you stepped forward, almost mesmerised by the lilting, lyrical tone of her voice. You shook your head a little, trying to keep your wits about you. 

You took in the sight of her as she held open the door; taller than you with a willowy figure, long white hair down to her hips, and eyes of pale blue that seemed to look right through you. You’d seen enough vampires to tell one by sight.

Your small suitcase was clutched in your hand, the few possessions that meant anything to you had been hastily packed before you’d headed to New York, and now felt like all you had left in the world. She glanced at the suitcase with disdain, but said nothing.

“Do you have the paperwork?” She asked, the soft but icy sound of her voice sending a shiver up your spine. You nodded and she held out her hand expectantly, waiting while you fished the folded mess of documents from your coat. She gave the contract a cursory glance, making sure you’d signed every dotted line, before; “good. And are you sure you understand everything that this position entails and what will be required of you?”

You nodded again.

“Speak up,” she prompted. “This is your last chance to ask questions.”

Despite the impatience on her face, you took a moment. Only minutes ago you’d had at least half a dozen questions about the job and the mysterious vampire who had hired you.

“What happened to the last person who took this job?” Her eyebrow rose, obviously not expecting that question. “The contract is for a year, but I’ve seen this job advertised three times in the last ten months.”

“There are a lot of people who mistakenly believe that they can do what is required of them. Many have come to work for Mr Russo, and many have disappointed him,” she shrugged.

“What happened to them?”

“The same thing that will happen to you if you breach your contract; immediate dismissal with no severance,” she explained, slowly starting to step towards the elevator. “During your time here, everything will be provided for you and you will only be paid once your term of service is completed.”

“A million dollars,” even though that was the amount in black and white on the contract, it still didn’t seem real to you.

“Yes,” she pressed the call button, putting an obvious timer on this conversation. “Like I said, this is your last chance to ask questions. Once I take you upstairs, your contract will officially begin, and you will forfeit the agreed upon rights.” 

You swallowed the lump that had risen in your throat and nodded, knowing you had no choice. You needed the money and a year wasn’t that long if you really thought about it. 

The elevator doors slid open and you took one last deep breath before stepping inside.

“What floor are we going to?” You asked, not wanting to stand in silence.

“The penthouse,” she answered, allowing another moment of quiet before adding; “you’ll find that Mr Russo has been more than generous with your living quarters, far more generous than most.”

“Do a lot of vampires do this? Hire people to feed from, I mean?” 

“For those that can afford it, or those with particular... tastes, it’s quite common, yes,” she replied offhandedly, not even bothering to look at you, knowing that it didn’t matter anymore; it was too late for you to change your mind.

“And which is Mr Russo?” You dared to ask, which was enough to earn a glance from her.

“Both,” she answered coldly, “as you no doubt saw in the advertisement, Mr Russo is very particular, and you’d do well to remember that. He is a man who likes everything in its place.”

Your lips parted, more comments and questions about your mysterious employer on your tongue, but they were cut off by the opening of the elevator doors. She led you out into the penthouse; a large open-plan living and kitchen area, with an open fireplace and wrap-around sofa, decorated in dark colours and dark-stained wood.

“Leave your suitcase there,” she instructed. “You won’t need it.”

You did as you were told, speechless as you took in the huge space in front of you. The windows drew your attention; tinted and obviously UV proof, but spanning from floor to ceiling, giving an amazing view of Central Park.

“This is the main area of the penthouse,” she started, as if she was a tour guide, reeling off facts that she no longer found interesting. “You may use this area as you see fit during daylight hours, but between 9pm and 6am it is off-limits. You will clean up after yourself.”

You nodded, following her as she slowly started towards the kitchen, leaving your suitcase at the elevator.

“All food will be provided, and should not be left in this kitchen area. You have your own private kitchen in your quarters. As per your contract, you will keep to the list of acceptable foods, and will receive grocery deliveries once a week on Fridays.” She stopped for a moment, letting you get a look at the main kitchen.

While there didn’t seem to be much in the way of food in the main kitchen, there was a large wine rack, filled with bottles. But it was the small glass-fronted refrigerator that caught your attention. That was where he would keep your blood. Suddenly it all started to feel very real to you.

If your guide cared, she didn’t bother to show it. She started to move again, and you followed after.

“Behind that door,” she pointed, “are Mr Russo’s rooms. You are forbidden from entering. Any breach of that rule will result in your immediate dismissal.”

You nodded, eyes lingering on the door, wondering if he was behind it right now, if he was listening in to everything being said. The thought caused your heart to beat a little faster and, that, you were certain she did notice. She led you away, towards the other end of the apartment.

“Through that door is Mr Russo’s library, you may use it as you see fit during daylight hours,” she didn’t linger or allow you to look inside, so you decided that was the first place you would explore once you were alone.

“And this,” she pushed a door open, “is your private suite.”

The door led to a small corridor with three doors. You continued to follow her. 

“Your kitchen,” she pushed open the first door and let you glance inside before moving to the door on the opposite side of the hallway, “your bathroom.” Again, she only gave you a second before moving to the door at the end of the hallway. “And this is your bedroom. For your privacy, the door can be locked. Though once you’ve slept here, no vampire will be able to enter without permission.” 

You were almost speechless as you stepped into the room, immediately noticing the floor to ceiling windows that wrapped around the corner of the room, giving you amazing views of Central Park and the city. The room contained a large bed, a sofa and TV, as well as a small gym area in the corner. There was a wardrobe, the doors of which had been strategically left open so you could see that it had already been filled with clothes for you. Beyond that, there was a desk and several mirrors, and everything was decorated with the same dark palette as the rest of the penthouse. 

“As per your contract, you are expected to remain clean and healthy at all times,” she continued while you slowly stepped around the room, cautiously running your fingers over the desk and opening drawers. “Mr Russo requires that you shower at least once every day and that you wear only the clothes provided. If the clothes provided are not to your tastes, reasonable adjustments to the wardrobe can be made.”

You opened a drawer and felt heat rise in your cheeks when you realised that it was filled with silk and lace lingerie sets. Closing the drawer, you decided to look elsewhere, moving towards the nightstand. There was a silk sleep mask beside the lamp, with your initials sewn into the fabric.

“You will not leave the penthouse without permission. Any attempt to do so will result in your immediate dismissal,” again, on paper, it had sounded easy but now you weren’t so sure. “Part of remaining clean for Mr Russo means that you will forgo sex for the duration of your contract, and you will not allow anyone to touch you in a sexual way. However, Mr Russo understands that this can be... difficult for someone your age, so he has provided everything you need to keep yourself... satisfied.”

Your confused glance was met by a raised eyebrow and the slightest dip of her head, indicating the drawer which, stupidly, you opened without hesitation.

“Oh...” you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting but a drawer full of sex toys certainly wasn’t it. Your cheeks got hotter and your heart raced in your chest.

“I would suggest getting that under control, your embarrassment is quite distracting to vampires,” she stated before leaving the room. You quickly pushed the drawer of toys closed and followed after her. 

She led you into the kitchen, a clean and sterile looking room with everything you’d ever need to cook for yourself. Waving at the only chair at the small table, she instructed you to sit, take your coat off and roll up your sleeve.

“For the first week, I will assist you in drawing blood and showing you how to store it, after that it will become your responsibility. You will do this at least once a day, and it is your job to ensure that Mr Russo never goes without,” she explained, opening a drawer and removing what she needed.

You felt queasy the moment the needle punctured the skin, and you were sure she scoffed when you looked away from the sight of blood. Clearly, she didn’t think you were going to last in your new job.

“While your contract is in effect, Mr Russo is the only vampire who may drink your blood,” she continued to list rules and stipulations. 

“And he’ll only drink it like this? He won’t -” you hesitated, trying to decide if the question could be seen as offensive to a vampire.

“It is, legally speaking, entirely up to you whether or not you would allow Mr Russo to feed from you directly,” which, of course was something you knew - since vampires revealed themselves to the world, lots of safe-measures had been put in place to protect humans from being involuntarily fed upon. “However, Mr Russo prefers to feed this way, so it shouldn’t be an issue.”

After almost ten minutes she pulled the needle from your arm and began to explain how to seal the blood before handing you a bottle of supplements and a glass of water. 

“Take one of those every day after bleeding, they will help your body replace what you’ve given.” She watched as you took one of the supplements without questions and then led you back out into the main area of the apartment, showing you how the blood was to be stored in the fridge, with the day's date clearly marked on the jar.

“Now, you should go shower and change into the clothes provided. I can either dispose of what you’re wearing or it can be placed in storage with your other things until your contract is complete.”

“Wait - storage?” You asked, your heart skipping a beat.

“As per your contract, everything is provided -”

“I get that, but... you’re saying I can’t keep my things? What about my phone?” Sure, you’d read the contract, but you’d never realised that that was what it meant.

“Mr Russo is a very private man, your phone or other electronic devices would be a security risk,” she answered sharply. “If you wish to terminate your contract -”

“No - no, it’s fine. As long as they’re kept safe.” As much as you hated it, you knew the alternative was worse. No, you could live without your phone and laptop for a year if it meant earning a million dollars, if it meant finally being free.

Without hesitation, you removed your phone from your pocket and handed it to her. She seemed almost amused that it was already turned off, and quickly slid it into her own pocket.

She nodded and started to walk away. “Leave anything you want put into storage by the elevator.”

It was then that you realised that she was about to leave you all alone and you’d have no more chances to ask her questions.

“When will I meet Mr Russo?” You asked as she pressed the call button.

“That depends on Mr Russo,” she shrugged, “you may never meet him if he doesn’t wish it. He’ll decide when he returns to New York tomorrow. For now, I’d suggest you spend your time getting comfortable. A year is a long time for warmbloods...”

The elevator doors slid open and she carried your suitcase inside.

“I’ll be back after sunset tomorrow to draw more blood.”

It wasn’t until she was gone that you realised you’d never even gotten her name.

Alone, you remained in the kitchen for a few minutes, half expecting her to come back to explain more rules but, when she didn’t, you decided to explore.

It felt strange and you didn’t dare touch anything, practically creeping around the apartment, even though you were fairly certain that you were all alone now. You got yourself familiar with the main living area, taking a moment to enjoy the view from the windows before heading for the door that led to Mr Russo’s library.

Whatever thoughts you had about it, you weren’t expecting what you found behind that door. The book cases covered two of the walls and, in the corner of the room sat a grand piano. There was a worn looking leather sofa and, towards the back of the room, you realised that there was a set of shelves filled with vinyl records. Suddenly, being stuck in this apartment for a whole year didn’t seem like enough time. 

There was a strange mix of old and new about the room, things that made you wonder about the sort of person your new employer was. How old was he? How long had he been a vampire? 

You decided that you were definitely going to spend a lot of time in the library but, for tonight, you settled on taking a battered looking copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray from a shelf, hoping that no one would mind if you took it back to your room.

While it wasn’t getting late, it had been a long day and you were still feeling a little shaky, so you decided to do as instructed and have a shower before changing into one of the silken pairs of pyjamas that had been provided. Once you’d neatly folded and piled your old clothes by the elevator, you returned to your bedroom.

Paranoia had you checking around the room, beneath the bed and in the wardrobe, before you finally felt safe enough to lock yourself in. While it had been your plan to read until you fell asleep, you were too distracted by thoughts of home; had anyone noticed that you were gone yet? Were they looking for you? Had they been trying to call?

The only thing that you knew for certain was that no one would find you here. And, once you’d completed your year and had your million dollars, no one would find you ever again.

The next morning you realised why you’d been provided a sleep mask; as stunning as the floor to ceiling windows were, the moment the sun rose your room was filled with light. Grumbling, your hand reached for your phone on the night stand before you remembered exactly where you were and that you no longer had your phone.

There was a clock in the kitchen, on the wall above the small table where you sat and had breakfast, telling you that it was far too early to be awake. 

After breakfast you showered and decided to spend the day getting used to your surroundings, starting with the bedroom. 

The contents of the wardrobe left you speechless. Even the leggings and jeans were expensive brands, and some of the ball gowns... honestly, you didn’t even know why they were in there, but you’d spent enough time attending balls and gala’s back home to know that each was easily worth tens of thousands of dollars. Some of the garments felt a little more questionable; corsets and dresses that would probably reveal far more than you were comfortable with.

And the shoes.

You’d never seen so many pairs of shoes. Everything ranging from cute sneakers, to thigh-high boots with heels so big you’d break your neck if you fell over in them. Every kind of shoe for every sort of occasion, and they were all stunning.

Then, in the drawers, you had your more everyday items; underwear, tee-shirts, leggings. And, again, it seemed like no expense had been spared. Admittedly when you finally changed out of the pyjamas, it felt a little bit weird to put on underwear that you hadn’t bought for yourself, and weirder still to think about how soft the lace felt on your skin.

You picked out a pair of jeggings, an oversized sweater and a pair of Uggs to wear before continuing to search through your room. There was everything you could think that you might want or need, with the exception of a laptop or phone. (And you were very mindful about ignoring the drawer of sex toys, not even wanting to think about it.)

It took you almost the whole day to get through it all and find where everything was. Once you were done, you decided to cook dinner; a simple pasta in sauce with some bread. You hadn’t even stepped out of your suite and into the main apartment, you’d almost managed to forget that anything existed outside of your bubble until the sudden knock on the suite's door. 

You opened the door to find her standing there, remembering she had promised to return at sunset.

“Have you found everything to your liking so far?” She asked as she stepped past you and made her way into the kitchen. 

“Everything is fine,” you told her, following after. “I did have a few... questions about some things?”

She indicated that you take a seat and moved to the cupboard that contains the equipment for drawing blood. You rolled up your sleeve without being asked.

“Yes?” She prompted.

“In the wardrobe, there are ball gowns?” More statement than question and she looked at you with a raised eyebrow until you clarified; “why?”

“Mr Russo occasionally likes to host parties or attend events in the city,” she answered, piercing your skin with the needle. “If he decides he enjoys your company, he may ask you to attend with him.”

“Oh,” you decided not to ask the ridiculous follow up and instead change direction completely. “And, while I’m here I’m not allowed a phone or the internet?”

“As I told you yesterday, Mr Russo is a very private man. If you wish to contact loved ones, I can -”

“No, it’s fine,” you quickly cut her off. “What if there’s... I don’t know, an emergency? Or something I need?”

For a second she paused, the slightest look of realisation on her face, as if she’d just remembered something. 

“By the elevator, there’s an intercom. You can use it to contact me or, if I’m not available, you can contact the doorman.”

Which, of course, brought you to the next awkward question.

“... you never told me your name.”

“Lissa,” she quickly responded, off-handedly, almost dismissively, like she thought you’d never need it. 

Once she was finished drawing blood, you followed her out into the main area of the penthouse and over to the fridge where, to your surprise, yesterday’s blood was gone.

“Is -” you started to ask, glancing towards that foreboding door that was off-limits to you, “- is Mr Russo here?”

“He’s back in the city, yes.” 

You took that to mean that he wasn’t in, so you decided not to ask any more questions - what had she told you yesterday? That he’d decide whether he wanted to meet you when he got back. Well, he was back now and, obviously, he didn’t.

Lissa asked if you needed anything desperately and you told her you didn’t; she didn’t exactly make it seem like she was interested, more that she felt obligated.

The next few days passed in much the same way; you’d spend your afternoons exploring the penthouse, trying to get some idea of what Mr Russo was like. Then Lissa would help you draw blood and, by the end of the first week, you no longer needed her assistance. Every morning you checked the fridge and found it empty. He was there, in the penthouse. But, as the days passed, you started to think you’d never cross paths and maybe that was by design.

Maybe that was for the best, maybe it would be easier to get through the year without meeting him. You could just pretend that the penthouse was yours.

But it seemed like a lonely way to live, especially once Lissa no longer had a reason to visit. You weren’t used to space or privacy, not like this. You took to muttering to yourself, moving from room to room of the penthouse just to get a little bit of variety in your life.

The first day you were completely left alone, you decided to start the morning with a run on the treadmill. It was raining outside but you tried to picture what it would be like to run through the winding paths of Central Park, all the way to the fountain. Then, after showering, you rummaged through the cupboards in the kitchen to find all the ingredients you needed to make chocolate muffins.

By the time the sun started to set, you were quietly impressed with how well you’d managed to distract yourself. But it was only one day, and you had over three-hundred and fifty more to fill. You made yourself some dinner, drew some blood and took it out to the fridge for Mr Russo, whenever he decided to get it.

Then, you ended up on the sofa.

Initially you’d only wanted to sit down for a few minutes, feeling tired and a little bit unsteady after putting today’s blood in the fridge. You had a feeling that you might have drawn a little too much, and you found your eyes drifting shut. 

The alarm on your watch woke you, set to remind you every night when it was approaching 9pm so you could retire to your suite, as per the rules. You felt groggy as your eyes opened, taking a second to sharpen.

And there he was, sitting on the opposite side of the wrap-around sofa, a glass in his hand, dark eyes set on you.

You sat up quickly - so quickly that it made you feel dizzy.

Your cheeks warmed, though you weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or nausea.

If he cared about your display of discomfort, he certainly didn’t show it. In fact, for a moment you were sure you saw a flicker of a smirk cross his lips. For a second you found yourself staring, taking in the sight of him; dark suit, dark hair, and even darker eyes. He was stunning, even by vampire standards.

“I’m sorry, I -” you started, flustered. You didn’t even know what you were apologising for. It wasn’t like you’d broken any of his rules.

“So you’re the new one,” his voice didn’t sound like you thought it would. For the look of him, you’d imagined a smooth but commanding tone, instead there was something rough to it.

“Yes, sir,” you answered, quickly introducing yourself to him rather than addressing what exactly he meant by the new one.

“Drink that,” he instructed and you noticed the glass of orange juice on the table. “It’ll help with the blood loss.”

Your cheeks warmed a fraction, embarrassed that he’d figured out why you were sleeping on the sofa. (Just how long had he been sitting watching you sleep, anyway?)

You gave a muttered thank you before reaching for the glass and slowly starting to drink. You’d forgotten to take your supplement too and that probably wasn’t helping.

“So, what are you running from?”

“I'm sorry?” You asked, not understanding the question. 

“You've agreed to spend a year living in the home of a man you've never met - a vampire, no less - so, what are you running from?” He looked at you as if he could look through you, as if he expect a lie and he’d be able to catch you in it

“I’m not running,” you answered, forcing yourself to sit a little straighter, despite the light-headedness. “I just didn’t want to be at home anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Does it matter?” You answered flippantly before realising that that wasn’t the best way to talk to your new employer. “I mean - I already signed all of your contracts, so does it make a difference?”

“It does if I end up with your parents at the door screaming about how I spirited away their daughter and have her under my thrall so I can drain her blood.”

“Has - has that happened before?” There was something about his face, his eyes, it made it impossible to tell if he was joking or being serious. “Things like this are legal, so it’s not like they could complain...”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

It was only then that you realised what was in his glass, the dark viscous liquid he was gently swirling. He was sitting and having this conversation with you while cradling a glass of your blood.

“I’m not avoiding it,” you decided to tell him, “I just don’t want to answer it. I appreciate how this could look to some people, but I can promise you my family won’t be an issue. They don’t even know that I’m here and they have no way of finding me.”

“So, not running, escaping,” he stated like he didn’t want a response and already knew he was going to get one. And, finally, he lifted his glass and took a slow drink..

You didn’t want to watch him drink, but you found that you couldn’t tear your eyes away, watching the gentle bob of his throat and the way he licked his lips after draining half the glass. When he caught you looking, you dropped your attention to your own glass and took a slow drink.

“I’m not your first am I?” 

Sputtering, you almost choked on your drink and, for some reason, your mind immediately went to the drawer of toys in your bedroom. Your cheeks continued to warm as the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk.

“My first what?”

“Vampire.”

“No. I mean, I’ve never -” you took a second, trying to regain your composure. “I’ve met other vampires, I’ve just never let them...”

He lifted the glass and cocked an eyebrow before taking a drink. This time when he drank, you let him see you watching, feeling your heart stutter in your chest. Again, his tongue wiped away any trace of your blood from his lips and he looked oddly satisfied.

“Do you like it here? Are you settling in?” He asked, and you were starting to realise he was trying to get a measure of you. “Are your rooms to your liking?”

“Yes, you have a lovely home,” you answered before taking an awkward drink. You weren’t sure what else to say about it because, outside of the library, there wasn’t much to the penthouse. In fact, once you started thinking about it, you couldn’t help but realise that it seemed a little cold and lonely. But, perhaps it was different in his rooms, perhaps that was where he’d made his penthouse into a home.

“You like the library,” a statement more than a question.

“Yes, I - how did you know?” Had he been spying on you? Watching you?

“My copy of Dorian Gray,” he stated softly, and you felt your breath catch, “it doesn’t seem to be where I left it.”

“It’s in my room,” you answered, worried that you might have already done something wrong - you couldn’t afford to lose this job, not after only a week. “No one told me that I couldn’t take it out of the library, I just wanted something to read in bed and I -”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, doing a poor job of hiding his amusement. “You can take as many books from the library as you want, as long as they’re returned undamaged.”

It seemed to mean a lot to him and, perhaps, you should have asked why but, instead, you found yourself feeling indignant.

“I’d never damage a book,” you told him, “especially one that didn’t belong to me.”

Again, he seemed more amused than fazed by your response. “So, you like to read?”

You nodded.

“Why?” His eyes stayed on you, staring through you, right to your soul. At least, that was how it felt. Your lips parted, but you didn’t have an answer for him. Why did anyone like to read? “Escapism? Perhaps to imagine a better life? Or is it love and fantasies of fictional men who will treat you better than anyone in the real world that you enjoy?”

“Is that why you have all those books? To fantasise about fictional men?” you found yourself responding, trying desperately to ignore the heat burning through your cheeks.

He let out a laugh, a deep and dark sound that sent a shiver up your spine. The smirk on his lips grew and, for a moment, he just watched you before shrugging.

“Sometimes men, sometimes women,” he admitted with ease, lifting his glass and draining it, leaving nothing but a pinkish stain on the inside of the glass. “I like you,” he decided and you weren’t sure if he meant you or your blood. “This is going to be fun.”

With that, he got to his feet and all you could do was watch, getting some idea of his height and how he held himself once he was standing. He moved with the confidence of a predator who knew his own strength even if others couldn’t see it, and you knew immediately that you shouldn’t underestimate him.

“You should return to your rooms,” he told you, turning and heading for the kitchen to get rid of his empty glass. “I wouldn’t want Lissa finding out that you’ve already broken your contract.”

For a second you weren’t sure what he meant, but then you saw the time. Twenty past nine. He’d kept you talking for almost half an hour. (Could he really fire you for that when he was the reason?)

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the time, I -” you got to your feet so quickly that you almost fell back down

“I’m joking,” it hadn’t sounded like a joke. He glanced back towards you, offering something of a smile. “You should go back to your rooms and rest, though. And tomorrow, take more care when you’re drawing blood. I wouldn’t want you fainting.”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer before moving towards the elevator and slipping inside once the doors opened.

For a few seconds, you stood, at a loss over what had just happened, before quickly making your way back to your own rooms.

CHAPTER TWO

End Notes : Sooo... there it is. I honestly hate starting new fics because I always feel like they start a little slow. I'm not sure what the posting schedule will look like for this one, I'm hoping once a week (on Friday evenings) but I'll post an update or something if that changes.

Thanks for checking this out, I know it's a bit of a departure from Catch Me if You Can. Have a wonderful weekend.

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

[chxrrydrxp]

ok so i'm so in with your theme rn and i loved your after car with jason drabble but what i really came here to say imagine poor jason todd realizes he's in love in dick's girlfriend. he doesn't say anything but he knows he can treat you better and be better for you. he knows dick cares about you but he's bad for you because he'll never fully love you but believes he can. so he watches you from afar, trying to sweet in small ways like helping fixing your car and stuff. he watches you and dick fight, break up and of course make up till the point he's fed up of watching dick play you because he's knows dicks cheating and he knows dick isn't trying to hurt you but its not fair. poor jason he doesn't want to be a rebound he just wants to give you the love you deserve.

I'm really about to break jasons pretty heart and staple it back together with this fic. apologies for the wait! I got too excited and decided to write a series about it 🥹

I'll release it chapter by chapter 🤭 and you're a genius I love ur brain 🧠

and fr dick damn near slept with every dc character that man is a whore. I'm still tryna figure out what excuse imma give him for why he is a serial man whore

all jokes aside, I'm gonna have some much fun with this.

𝒻ℴ𝓇𝒷𝒾𝒹𝒹ℯ𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝓊𝒾𝓉

Jason Todd x (Dick's Ex! Fem!) Reader:

chapter 1

chapter 2

warnings: this series will get heated eventually, and I'll just put a warning on those specified chapters.

this might be a long series, depends how much yall want it 🤭

Loud rain poured against Jason's window. He laid against his dark wood bed frame while reading a book. As he flicked through thin pages, the sound of you and Dick arguing could be heard from across the hall.

He wasn't exactly trying to eavesdrop, but he could make out certain sentences like “why's her name still..’. He sighed, growing more and more tired of the constant back and forth between you two. The conversation slowly moved from the room into the hall, and the argument could almost be heard throughout the whole manor.

“Dick, I cannot do this anymore. I'm tired. I'm tired of being confused about your feelings for me!” He could then hear Dick's annoyingly condescending voice. Another tired sigh escaped Jason's lips as he ran his fingers tiredly through his dark strands. He rolled off the bed, put on a loose white tee, and slipped on black house shoes.

Pulling the door back, he wasn't even noticed by the two of you until his deep voice rumbled through the hall. Even as a quiet, “The hells’ all the commotion, I'm tryna read damn it”, his voice caught your attention. You felt slightly embarrassed. But the anger just wouldn't let up. “Sorry Jason, just go back to your room,” Dick pleaded, leaning against the wall with a frown. Jason rolled his eyes at Dick's continuous attempts to sound like an older brother, and his eyes flickered to yours.

Noticing your red eyes and a tear of anger falling down your cheeks, his jaw relaxed and he almost looked concerned. “You alright?” His soft voice coaxed you out of your bubbling fit of anger. “Yeah...I'm okay…I'm just gonna go home..” Your eyes stuck back to the floor and then you walked away, leaving the two brothers alone. Dick began to walk away, only stopping in his tracks at the mention of his name.

“Dick…you can't keep doin' this man-” Dick spun around shooting a cold glare at him. “Doing what? You think I want to hurt her?” Jason's eyebrows furrowed. “You're not doing a good job of proving me wrong.” Dick walked away.

You dropped your keys on your marble console table, falling onto the couch with a sigh. You knew he wasn't right for you. This cycle of toxicity would go on and on forever unless you stuck your foot in the ground. The repeating doubts about your relationship circled your mind almost daily. You and Dick had been together since late middle school days. You went everywhere with each other and attended every dance together. You were both practically attached at the hip. You had everything in common and could get lost in various topics for hours.

But, that connection had seemed so far away. So long ago. Like a distant memory. The romance in the relationship felt like it was fading, but neither of you was ready to let it go. And it puts a strain on your relationship, even without romance.

You curled up on the soft sofa, bringing your knees to your chest and feeling stinging tears well in your eyes. You knew it was bad for you. God that's all you ever thought about. But it hurt too much to even consider ending things. He was so familiar.

You don't know how much time has passed by of you being stuck in a constant loop of repetitive thoughts, but a knock on your door shook you out of your trance.

“y/n? It's Jason, can I come in?” You quickly wiped your eyes with your shirt and straightened yourself out. “Be right there!” You cringed at that obvious wavering of your voice. You reached the door, opening it slightly so he could only see your upper half. Your head was leaned downward as a half-assed attempt to hide your tear-stained face. “Hey,” was all he said, with a faint sheepish smile. You lazily nodded at him. “Need something?” You'd hoped you didn't sound angry at him. “Well, I came here to ask you the same thing.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, a familiar habit of his. “Come in.”

(yall I cannot think of a title omg)

[offside-the-lines]

MattDrai Fic Recs

So @irrelevanttous and @puckthisshift sent me the ask meme prompt for "what my favorite Mattdrai fic is" and I went on a JOURNEY lemme tell ya. I ended up figuring out how to download my AO3 history (in which I discovered that in the last year, I've read like literally 50% of all the MattDrai fics ever written) to help me figure out what my faves were. So here are some (most? I hope?), split into categories.

General Faves:

head above water by yourblues (@msmargaretmurry) 🔒 (E, 91.1k) This might be one of the best pieces of RPF ever written; it's a classic. I have visited this fic literally 21 times. It has everything: stupidity, pining, incredible sex, falling for each other, also more stupidity. Chapter 6 literally rips my entire soul out every time. I think this fic permanently altered my brain chemistry. It's a perennial re-read.

only fools rush in by @bropunzeling 🔒 (E, 94.9k) This is another fic that is a Must Read for HRPF as a whole. The entire time, I just want to reach through the screen and wring both of their necks for being so incredibly dense. And I love everything about this, especially just the way it's written is so incredible.

Growing Into Someone by @blaahaj 🔒 (E, 46.5k) God, I love this fic so much, I come back to it all the time. I think this must've been one of the first Mattdrai works I read. But I just love how natural the initial tension is, and how inevitable their falling in love is, and how the climax happens and resolves is just so incredible.

Undo Falling for You by crookedsilence (@csblogs) 🔒 (T, 16.1k) This is an AU I guess? I put it in this section because it's Hanahaki, so like only kinda AU. Either way, I am obsessed with this! It is just emotionally perfect. Highly recommend.

rough dream? by reticent 🔒 (M, 7.2k) So, this fic is probably the most "out there" suggestion because of the warning (I'll get to that part) but this fic is literally the most perfect microcosm of what Mattdrai fics tend to have: pining, lack of communication, falling in love while being terrified of falling in love, etc. This is a time loop fic where Matthew is stuck in the time loop but it's told from the perspective of Leon. It is absolutely incredible. I think about this fic ALL THE TIME. The warning is for a suicide, but no "actual" character death because the time loop resets.

i'll tell you when to stop by dogjuice 🔒 (E, 39.6k) (McMattDrai) This is the real answer to 'what fic do you send people if they want to get into MattDrai'. I have sent this to so many people because it is perfect. Everything about this is perfect. Matthew's internal dialogue and his anxiety, and his perception of what's happening. The second half of the fic is so well-written and suspenseful. Something I feel it will give me a heart attack even though I've read it like 10 times.

Future Fics

Saving the Best for Last by @puckingtrash 🔒 (E, 100.1k) This is the fic that made me obsessed with Future Fics of current rivals. There's just a level of camaraderie and understanding that happens after that many years in the same league; it doesn't matter how much beef you had. And this fic is just so incredible. I love thinking about what these guys do after retirement. A must read IMO.

home by now by daisysusan (@hopetorun) 🔒 (E, 102.3k) Probably one of the best fics. I love the way this builds up and keeps you on edge. It really mirrors how Matty feels, just this general unease of knowing something is wrong but not knowing what. The laying of the pining with the hurt and confusion is just so well done.

back to where we lasted by @ohtemporas 🔒 (E, 34.4k) Trade fics are always so interesting with these two. Especially in the situation where they are exes. And one of them (Leon in this case) has fucked up greatly, and they need to figure out how to get past it because neither of them are over it. Or in this case, figure out how to do it again, but properly.

Old Flames Burn Brighter by @cisumox (E, 25k) I love this fic so much because of the way they are both clearly affected by what happened and how much they still want to love each other. I think about this one al the time. Warning: this does involve a career ending injury.

settle down in the Sunshine State by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 14.7k) This has my fave Mattdrai trope where one of them is a fucking idiot, and is so in their head about it. And they have absolutely no idea what literally every single other person knows. In this case, it's Matthew. I absolutely love this fic. I read it all the time.

gather your broken lessons and move by rumandwhine 🔒 (E, 30.5k) This one is super interesting because it doesn't involve a trade, or them in the same place. It is the same as it was before, but different. How are they doing to figure out what went wrong and how are they going to make sure they don't make the same mistakes? They are older now, but are they any less stupid. Keep reading to find out. (Also featuring an absolutely hilarious situation with Drai and his rookie).

AUs

linger by @bropunzeling 🔒 (E, 65.5k) (Omegaverse) This is another all timer. It is so incredible: the way they are just so inexplicably drawn to each other, and obsessed but so worried about their obsession. And the way Leon treats Matthew as something really special from the beginning (and how Matthew just doesn't seem to pick up on that). The way that things build towards the climax, with the ASG 2023 moment (which makes me want to rip my eyeballs out every time; it HURTS). It has all the best parts of omegaverse and explores their relationships with their dynamics so thoughtfully.

whatever promises I made by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 360k) (Omegaverse) Yet another all timer for the genre as a whole. The way that omegaverse is explored here is so interesting. It was the fic that really got me on board with the AU. It is so core to the way the characters interact with each other and the world, and the inherent traumas it brings really parallels some of the experiences of populations in the real world (e.g. women).

so is the longing by dogjuice 🔒 (E, 44.7k) (Omegaverse) When I tell you I have read this fic sooooo many times. It is so so good (and so hot). Matthew is so incredibly oblivious and Leon is pining so hard and down soooooo bad. I think Leon's love for Matthew can be seen from like Alpha centauri and yet Matthew totally misses it (among other things). This is SO good.

Egos and Eligibility by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 91.1k) (Regency & Omegaverse) I will continue to suck up to my good friend Iris LOL. But seriously, I read this before I even knew it was her and I love it so much. I adore Regency Matthew and the way Leon is literally ever MMC from the era (Mr Darcy) is so funny to me (why so pissy Leon). Regency is such a perfect setting for the Omegaverse tropes of courting and, also again, exploring the societal impact of having these dynamics in play. I think the part where Matthew goes into heat is SO funny and well written. Bridgerton wishes.

Royal Pain by lavender_hazyy 🔒 (E, 48.9k) + Sequel Rules of Engagement (E, 37.8k) (Medieval/Royalty/Bridgerton/Robin Hood) That sounds like the most bonkers combination of things, but it's truly so so so good. I recommend this one SO much. It's so much fun to read, and their interactions are so funny. Poor Connor is always experiencing the Horrors in the background. Everything about this is perfection. THE FUCKING LOVE LETTERS OMG.

bittersweet and strange by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 53.4k) (Fairytale Curses) Will I ever stop thinking about this? Probably not. :) I think so much of this is a metaphor for the "beast" that Matthew portrays himself to be (maybe believes himself to be) irl. Also, I will never get enough of Taryn as a character; she is just incredible. I will literally never forget the reveal at the end (and ever villain I ever write will be henceforth inspired by you). (Also, curly haired tiger Matthew, you will always be real to me. Leon + me *handshake emoji* wanting to tough Matthew's fur).

I honestly don't even think this is ALL of the Mattdrai fics I think about regularly/reread regularly. But these are at least a lot of them. There are also so many good recommendation lists on this website when you search for "mattdrai fic recs" that will include even more fics than the ones I've selected.

Legitimately, thank you to all Mattdrai writers out there for being the fucking GOATs. I don't know what I would be reading if not this.

[muffinpink02]

Perhaps some lucy inspo:

Lucy x (reader or ona) are on a spa trip, they haven’t done anything sexual in a couple of days for x reason, so now they can’t keep their hands off each other

extra inspo for if you write jealousy fics:

But there is someone (a worker or fellow visitor) who also cannot keep their hands off lucy (or ona) and eventually the mixture of jealousy, good looking gf, no sexual activities became to much and I think we can all imagine what happened either at the hotel (or at home)😌

just some inspo, you don’t have to use this storyline and can also rewrite it however, perhaps private jacuzzi on vacay instead of spa day etc etc

also cannot wait for the next chapters of the fics you’re currently writing. Massive fan of your work!!

The Big O

Thank you to the beautiful anon for this idea. Here you go. Its very quick and rushed, sorry.

Warning - Smut - angry sex

“I can’t wait for this. We needed a break.” Ona smiled over at Lucy as she opened the balcony doors of the hotel room. The taller girl lugged their shared suitcase into the room. Smiling at her girlfriend's excitement.

It had been a while since the couple had a break together, the last real holiday they had was after the World Cup. Yeah, they had breaks in between but they hadn’t been on a summer holiday. They had both been so busy with their own schedules, not to mention the champions league. They became passing ships in the night, hardly really spending time together. That also meant that they hadn’t been able to be intimate with each other in a while. 3 weeks to be exact. 

So, yeah, they needed this. They made a promise to shut off their phones, no emails, no calls, nothing that could distract them. 

“Yeah. I just can’t wait to see you in that bikini you brought.” The older brunette smiled playfully at Ona. 

“Oh, what one?” Ona smiled innocently.

The older brunette stepped into Onas space, smiling down at the doe-eyed girl. “The one that shows off your arse perfectly.”

Ona bit her lip. Something she knew that drove Lucy crazy. The pair had been flirting the whole way here, both wanting each other desperately. Lucy was finding it hard to keep her hands to herself on the flight, her fingers had found themselves between Ona’s legs, teasingly stroking Ona’s bare thighs the whole plain journey. The younger girl didn’t mind at first but when Lucy's fingers got higher and higher to her core she couldn't stop the heat burning between her legs. She was close to dragging Lucy into the plains toilet just to get some kind of release. 

“I love it when you look at me like that.” Lucy purred. She put her finger under Ona’s chin, making the girl look up at her. 

“Like what?” Ona whispered. She knew what she was doing. 

A lot of people would mistake Ona’s innocent look for being the softer one in the bedroom, the more submissive one. And yeah, she definitely was but she could also be very dominating when she wanted to be. She could play Lucy so easily, and Lucy loved it. She would fall for those beautiful brown Disney like eyes everytime, doing anything Ona would ask of her. 

“You know exactly what I'm talking about.” Lucy cupped the shorter girl's face and slowly brought her lips to her own. It was slow at first, both feeling the other girl's mouth, tasting the other's lips. Ona’s watermelon gloss tingled the tip of Lucy's tongue, making her mouth water. Lucy grabbed the back of Ona's neck, pushing her tongue into her mouth. Ona whimpered on feeling her girlfriend's smooth tongue push past her lips and into her mouth.

“Ergh, I love when you make those noises.” 

The Spaniard giggled, but it was cut off when Lucy pushed her on her back, hitting the soft mattress below her. She quickly climbed on top of the smaller girl, reattaching her lips to Ona’s own. It was quick messy kisses, the sounds of their wet lips smacking hard against the other. It was when Lucy started to roll her hips into Ona’s core that the Spaniard started to moan.

“Lu-,” 

Ona was cut off from Lucy sucking on her neck.

Ona could feel her underwear becoming wetter, she wanted Lucy so badly. Her next words were going to be difficult.

“Lucy, we have to st- aaa.”

Lucy quickly slipped her hand into Ona’s shorts, touching her clothed sex.

“So wet already.” Lucy hummed cockily.

Ona gritted her teeth. It had been too long since she felt Lucy between her legs. So long since she felt those talented fingers inside her. She wanted nothing more then for Lucy to fuck her right here, right now, but she had to stop her.

“Lucy, w-we have to s-stop.”

Lucy stopped, looking down at her girlfriend, who was now panting hard. Her lips swollen from Lucy's relentless sucking.

“Stop? Why?” Her confused horny face made Ona’s pussy clench.

“I booked us a spa treatment. We have to be there in 10 minutes.” 

“Are you saying I can’t have you screaming my name in 2 minutes? Because I take that as a challenge.” Lucy smirked down at Ona, capturing her lips once more.

Ona let herself get lost in Lucy's kisses once more. It was when Lucy started to push Ona’s t-shirt up, her short nails scratching against her tight skin, bringing Ona back into the presence.

“We can’t. Come. I’ll make it up to you later.” Ona gave a quick kiss to Lucy's lips before pushing her off. 

Lucy let out a sigh and smiled. “You will definitely make it up to me.” She slapped Ona’s arse playfully, making the younger girl yelp.

Never one to be outdone, Ona stepped in front of Lucy, giving her best doe eye impression. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.” 

The northerner's jaw clenched, her eyes closed as she let out a frustrated sigh.

“You better get us to the spa before I throw you on that bed.” 

Ona giggled, she loved to rile up Lucy, she had found in the past that it would always make the sex just a little more fiery, more passionate, a lot more dirty.

The girls quickly got ready for the appointment. They changed into their bikinis and headed to the spa. They checked in and waited in the seating area for their masseuse. Lucy leaned into Ona. “I definitely would have had you screaming my name in that time.” 

Ona chuckled. “Stop. Try and calm down, you’re going to have someone touching you, I don’t want you all worked up for them.” 

Lucy ignored that, and continued.

“I just hope you know that I brought the big one, the one that you beg me to go slow with.”

Ona felt the chills go up her back from Lucy's words. She felt her cunt tighten, thinking about that exact strap Lucy was referring to. 

“Fuck, Lucy.” Ona whispeared.

Before Ona could respond, with a full sentence, not that she really could have, her mind had turned to mush, two women came into the waiting room.

“Hi, I’m Sarah, I’m here for Lucy.” A blonde woman smiled at the pair. 

“That's me.” Lucy smiled.

“And you must be Ona. I’m Sam.” The tall brunette masseuse smiled at the younger girl. 

Lucy didn’t miss the way the masseuse eyed up Ona. 

“That's me.” Ona smiled.

“Perfect.” Sam's grin was devilish. Lucy didn’t like it one bit.

The women sat next to each of the girls, talking about the session and what it would involve. Even though Lucy was trying to listen, her eyes kept wandering over to Ona and the tall brunette. They were speaking Catalan. The women had heard Ona’s accent and of course she happened to also be Catalonian too. So even though Lucy knew a lot of Spanish, she wasn't able to pick up the conversation. Especially at the rate they were speaking. Whatever they were talking about must have been funny because Ona was constantly laughing at the pretty brunette. And for some particular reason Sam had to constantly keep touching Ona’s bare thigh. 

“So does that sound good, Lucy?” Sarah asked.

Lucy was pulled out of her stare off, with the back of Sam's head. “Hmm? Oh yeah, that's great.” She nodded. 

“Great. I’m just going to grab some bits and we’ll head over.” 

Lucy nodded and smiled, she wasn't even sure what treatment she had agreed on.

“Grcias Sam.” Ona smiled. Sam walked out of the room, possibly doing the same thing Sarah was doing. Ona looked over at Lucy, who looked a bit flustered. 

“Hey, what are you getting?” Ona asked.

“Oh erm, the Swedish rock salt, tissue massage.” Lucy was sure that's what Sarah said. “You?”

“Sam suggested I get a full body deep tissue massage. She said it's the best type for what we do.”

“Hmm, so she knows who you are?” 

“Yeah, she's actually not far from my town.”

“Hmm, small world.” Lucy smiled, but it was her weird smile. Ona knew that smile.

The women came back, holding white robes. They followed each woman to their own rooms. The pair smiled as they separated. Lucy noticing once more how Sam’s eyes roamed over Ona. Even though this was meant to be a relaxing moment, Lucy was far from relaxed. She couldn't stop thinking about Ona in the other room, being touched by the other woman. 

“Okay, so you’re very tight on your shoulders, I’m going to work on that for a bit. Just try to relax, you feel very tense.” Sarah said.

Lucy hummed. Even though Sarah had no clue about why Lucy was currently very tense right now, she knew she was right, she needed to relax. She tried. Though she couldn't stop the thoughts of Sam’s hands going an inch too high up Ona’s towel, or an inch too low down her back. Or if she made Ona moan from her touches, what if she made those cute sexy noises that only Lucy pulled from her. Lucy may have regretted teasing Ona before the session.

The 45 minutes had passed. Lucy got dressed and thanked Sarah, though the girl was only more tense. Lucy waited in the waiting room for Ona, even though they both had a 45 minute treatment, Lucy waited another 15 minutes before she saw Ona. The girl had a giant dopey smile on her face. Her cheeks had a pink flush to it. Her hair had been in her neat classic bun before she went in the room with Sam, but now it was down and messy. The girl literally looked like she had just been fucked. And Lucy would know, she had made her look like that plenty of times.

“How was it?” Ona asked, her voice sounded rough.

“Good, you?” 

“Soooo good, I don’t think I’ve ever had it like that before. She knew what she was doing.” Ona smiled.

“Hmm, good, good. Why so long?” 

“Ohh, it was her last session, she gave me head,- a head massage.” Ona started to bun her hair back up.

Lucy raised her brows at Ona’s words. “Ohhh, nice of her.” 

Ona nodded, not noticing Lucy's clear annoyance, or if she did she was ignoring it. 

“Yeah. I’m hungry. Shall we grab something to eat? 

“Sure.” 

The girls grabbed lunch in the hotel. Lucy had calmed down after Ona snaked her hand in hers, mindlessly stroking her knuckles, something that Lucy loved. She knew she was just being jealous, not having sex for so long probably made it worse. Her body was ready to combust and the quick make out session they had in the hotel room before really didn't help.

They sat at the hotel's beach, soaking in the sun, finally relaxing. She looked over at Ona laying on her front, her beautiful arse cheeks swallowing the bikini. Lucy had to lick her lips, making sure she wasn't actually dribbling.

“Do you want a drink? I’ll go to the bar.”

Ona smiled, pushing her glasses down. “Can I get a strawberry daiquiri, please?” 

Lucy kissed Ona deeply, holding the back of her head. “Of course you can.” 

Lucy made her way to the bar, she ordered the drinks then noticed the TV. The bar was playing the football, it was Chelsea vs Man City, a game she was hoping to watch. She took a seat at the bar, waiting for the cocktail to be made, but also wanting to get comfy as she watched on. 

Lucy had a few favourite things in this world, and watching football was one of them. Fucking Ona until she couldnt feel her legs no more was another. Playing football was another. Ona probably couldn't tell you in what order that went from top to bottom. 

It had been 10 minutes Ona looked towards the bar, wondering where her girlfriend was, she wasn't worried, they were still at the hotel. She knew when Lucy was in a good mood the girl could make friends with anyone, so she imagined she was maybe talking to a fan or something. Another 10 minutes and still nothing, that’s when Ona heard that very familiar roar of a bar that she realised why Lucy had not returned. Of course. 

“How's your head?” Ona looked up to see Sam the masseuse. With the way Sam was smiling at Ona, she couldn’t help but think Sam was trying to have a double meaning with that question. 

“A lot better thank you. I definitely feel more relaxed.” Ona smiled.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it, I've been told by many girls that my hands have relieved a lot of tension. My fingers know just where to hit those spots.” Sam’s smile was dangerous. 

She was coming on strong. Ona would normally politely turn down a girl who was flirting with her. But, Ona was annoyed with Lucy right now. They were meant to be on holiday, relaxing together, no phones, no screens, no interruptions. Ona also wouldn't have minded if she had watched it for 5 minutes and came back. But she had been gone for 30 minutes, Lucy had clearly got lost in the game.  

That's when Ona decided to make things interesting. She carried on speaking to Sam. She knew half time would have to be any minute now. And just like clock work, she did, just in perfect timing, she could see Lucy getting up from the bar. Putting her plan in motion. 

“Sam. Could you get my back, please. I can feel it getting red.” 

Sam couldn't have moved quick enough. She took the bottle of sun cream from Ona’s hand and began to rub her back. Ona even undid her bikini straps at her neck, making a show of it. And that show had finally caught the attention of green eyes. Lucy's green eyes. 

Ona closed her eyes and stretched her neck as Sam pressed her fingers deeply into her muscles. She could hear Lucy was close. So she moaned. She didn’t even have to put it on too much, as Sam did genuinely have magic fingers. Ona let out another groan, but this time it turned into a small whimper. 

Lucy wasn't a violent person, but she wanted nothing more than to rugby tackle Sam to the floor. She watched as her fingers slowly rubbed against Ona’s skin, she even made Ona arch as she hit spots that not even Lucy could hit, because she didn’t know what muscle even did that. As she got closer she even heard Ona moan, then she heard her whimper. That was the whimper that only Lucy made her do. Now here she was watching her girlfriend moan for another woman right in front of her.

“I didn’t realise the hotel offered massages outside the spa.” Lucy almost growled. 

“Oh, hey babe, Sam was passing by so I asked her to top up my cream.” Ona smiled.

Lucy knew that smile, she knew what Ona was doing. She continued.

“You were gone for a while. Did you get my drink?” Ona asked.

“Oh, yeah sorry. They’re playing the game, I just wanted to catch the last bit of it.” Lucy looked guilty. 

“Hmm. I see.” Ona nodded. 

“Here's your drink.” Lucy passed over Ona a warm, cocktail, even as she passed it she realised how stupid this looked. 

Sam decided to involve herself in the conversation. “Aye, that drink is no good. I can make a better cocktail than this. Give me 5 minutes, I’ll be right back.” 

Ona smiled widely up at Sam. “Oh thank you. You don’t have to do that.” 

Sam laughed, responding in their mother tongue, making Ona giggle.

Lucy had to hold her fists by her side. Her anger for Sam growing all the more. She sat down in her deck chair. Looking at the younger girl. “Sorry Ona. I was gone for too long. 

“You were.” She only confirmed. 

“I’m sorry. I know we said no screens, I just got carried away.” She grabbed Ona’s hand kissing the back of it, making Ona smile at her. 

“It's okay. You can make it up to me.” She smirked, not looking at Lucy.

Lucy was relieved to see Ona wasn't actually angry. She moved in close to her girlfriend, kissing her neck, she could taste the salt from her sweat, she sucked on her skin, relishing in the way Ona gasped. 

“I’d do anything to make you smile.”

Just like Sam promised she was back in 5 minutes, much to Lucy's dismay.. 

“Here you go, this my own personal cocktail. I call it ‘The big O.”  She winked.

Even though Sam was rude enough to flirt openly with Ona, she had also made a cocktail for Lucy. Ona sat up taking the glass from Sam.

“Ohh it looks amazing. Thank you Sam.” Ona smiled. She wrapped her lips around the pink straw and hummed. “Wow, that's really good. Try it Luce.” 

Lucy rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. She imagined Ona was just being polite, she took her own sip. Wow, yeah, no, that was good. It was maybe the best cocktail she had ever had. But Sam didn't need to know that.

“Bit sweet for me. Thank you though.” 

Sam smiled. “That's okay, everyone has a type, no? Anyways, enjoy the sun. Intenta no cremar, nena bonica.” She winked at Ona as she walked off.

Lucy was seething, she might not be an expert at the language but she knew enough to know she had just called Ona. 

“I don’t like her.” Lucy grunted.

Ona chuckled, she loved Lucy like this. “Oh stop. She's just doing her job.” 

Lucy folded her arms like a sulking toddler. Ona could only smile at her girlfriends cute, jealous antics as she drank the delicious cocktails.

The evening arrived, the girls rushed up to their rooms to get ready for another reservation Ona had made, it was only for dinner but it was a balcony view that you had to book in advance. If Ona knew how worked up the pair was going to be she would have just ordered room service. Lucy of course couldn't keep her hands off of the younger girl as she came out of the shower, slapping Ona’s arse cheeks as she walked past her. 

They arrived for their dinner reservation, and Ona was grateful she had the willpower to stop Lucy’s hand creeping into her underwear just before they left the hotel room. The view was breathtaking, it overlooked the sea and the other islands. The sun was halfway to setting, making the sky a beautiful pink and orange colour. The girls had their dinner, happy to be in one another's company. They had needed this, just them, nothing in their way. Even though they both had wanted to tear each other's clothes off every waking minute, this was something they needed. Catching up with certain bits of their lives that they hadn't been able to in a while. 

The girls finished their dinner and headed to the beach. The hotel had an event each night for the guests. Tonight was salsa dancing. Lucy and Ona sat at a table waiting for the entertainment. A pretty waitress came over to take their order.

“Hey, what can I get for you?” She looked at Lucy, a shy smile on her face.

“Hi, can I please get a beer. Ona?” Lucy looked over.

“A strawberry daiquiri please.” 

The waitress smiled at Lucy. “No, problem.” She walked off to get their drinks.

“Someones a fan.” Ona rolled her eyes.

“She’s just being friendly.” Lucy chuckled.

The girl returned with their orders. “Here you go Miss Bronze.” 

Lucy didn't stop the grin on her face. “Thank you.” 

“And your martini.” She handed Ona the drink.

“Oh erm, I didn't order this.” 

“No? Oh, I’m sorry. I must have gotten a bit flustered, I’m a really big fan.” She eyed Lucy up with absolutely no shame. “What was it you ordered?” 

Ona stared at the waitress. Her normally soft eyes turned angry.

“A strawberry daiquiri.” 

“That’s right, sorry. I'll grab that for you now.”

“Thank you. Don’t stress, we all make mistakes.” Lucy smiled. 

The waitress put her hand on Lucy's naked muscle. “Thank you.”

Ona rolled her eyes, seething in her seat. Out of the two Ona was definitely the more jealous one. 

This time it wasnt the waitress that came over, it was Sam, again. Did she not take a break?

“Hola, I saw the mix up. Sorry about that, I took the liberty of making my ‘Big O’ you look like you need it.”

“Sam! Thank you! I wanted to ask if they served it but you mentioned it was your own cocktail.” She sucked on her straw.

Lucy cleared her throat. “Do you work on every section or?”

Ona nudged Lucy under the table.

Sam chuckled. “I do work a lot of the hotel, si. I’m actually working in the entertainment tonight.”

“Of course you are.” Lucy muttered under her breath, Sam nor Ona heard her.

“So, Ona did you want to take up my offer for the message session?”

“What's this?” Lucy asked.

“Sam said I needed more work done to my upper thighs and lower back. She said I had a lot of tension there.”

“Si, I offered for her to have another treatment. Her body needs some extra attention in those areas. She's very tight. I could release her from that tension.” Sam smiled at Ona.

“I’ll definitely let you know. We have a few days planned.” Ona smiled, sipping on Sam's cocktail.

“Please do, it would be my pleasure.” Sam smirked as she walked away. 

Lucy could see the newspapers already. ‘Bronze turned boxer.’ or ‘Lucy Ali’ 

“She couldn't be any more obvious if she tried.” Lucy sneered.

Ona grabbed her hand, and kissed her knuckles. “It doesn't matter. It's you who I want. It's you who will be fucking me later. It's you who I love.”

Lucy couldn't hold back the shiver that kissed her skin. She leaned into Ona’s face, kissing the girl with a passion Ona hadn't felt in a while. Just as they pulled apart the lights dimmed, and the stage lit up. Music boomed in from the speakers, salsa dancers came onto the stage. 

The entertainment was amazing, the girls were enjoying themselves. The first show finished and the audience clapped for the dancers. 

It wasn't until a familiar face came on stage that Lucy felt her shoulders drop. Sam came on stage in traditional salsa wear. It was a very different sight for the uniform she wore before. She had a beautiful body, her curves sat in the black dress perfectly. The music began, her and the male partner danced the tango, it was undeniably one of the sexiest dancers two people could do. 

The dance came to an end, the crowd clapped loudly for Sam and her partner. They bowed and the male dancer walked off stage. 

“Thank you, now it is your turn. I need a partner. I'm going to pick two volunteers, and I don’t take no for an answer.” Sam’s eyes landed on the shorter brunette.

Lucy's stomach dropped.

Sam stepped down off the stage, she pointed at one man who stood up quickly, making his way on the stage. She didn't have to walk very far as she put her hand out for Ona to take.

Lucy could tell Ona wasn't sure what to do, her big brown doe eyes looked almost worried. Lucy didn't want that. Yes, she could be jealous and possessive but she wouldn't actually want Ona to feel like she couldn't do something because of her jealousy. That’s not how she wanted this relationship. 

Ona stared at her, needing some kind of confirmation, she wouldn’t do it if Lucy would genuinely be hurt. She saw the small smile and nod that Lucy gave her, giving her the green light. She took Sam’s hand, allowing her to be led to the stage. 

“Can I please have a round of applause for my volunteers. Please tell us your names.” 

“I’m Craig.” The guy smiled.

“I’m Ona.” 

Lucy did the loudest wolf whistle she could muster, causing Ona to giggle. 

“Okay, the challenge is to dance. Whoever can keep up with me wins. If you forget or falter you are out. The winner wins a bottle of champagne.” Sam said. 

Now, it doesn’t matter what the prize is. Ona and Lucy will want to win everytime, even if the prize is just to gloat. So, yeah, Lucy was going to cheer Ona on. Even if Sam was very obvious and wanted her girl. They needed to win. 

Sam went through some steps with the pair. Very basic at first, just a one, two step, dip kind of thing. Ona and Craig stayed on count. Lucy couldn’t help but watch as Ona’s hips made an easy step look so sexy. Sam gave them more steps, getting more technical and faster, the audience cheered as they kept up with her. 

“Well done, now we put it to the test. You will dance the steps. I will jump in with you, whoever can keep with me the longest, wins.” 

It would be impossible for either of them to keep up with her, she was a professional dancer, but that was probably the point. Sam pointed to the guy to go first. The music started and he began to dance, he kept up with the basic steps. The crowd cheered him on, he wasn't too bad. Sam then stepped closer taking his hands to dance with him. As soon as she made it faster he messed up. 

The audience clapped for his efforts. Sam strode up to Ona. The music started to play again and Ona did the steps. Lucy knew Ona could dance, she always looked so easy and free when she did, her body could move like a snake. So, she looked very natural with these steps. Sam then took Onas hands and began to dance with her, Lucy noticed Sam's hand placements straight away, one on her hip verging on her arse, the other clasped with her hand.

She made the steps quicker but Ona kept up easily, Sam pushed herself closer to the shorter girl, looking down at her. The girl was taller than Lucy, so Ona looked even tinier next to her. 

Sam smirked down at Ona, realising she could actually dance. She began to twirl Ona’s smaller body, bringing her back into her chest, faces inches from her own. If Lucy didn't hate Sam she would have thought it was actually quite sexy. Ona and Sam were wearing very samilair dresses, making the dance even more in sync. Sam spun Ona again and dipped her backwards. Ona must have hid this talent from Lucy because she was keeping up with Sam no problem, she looked like a professional dancer. Her face was as focused as it was on a football pitch. 

Sam brought her to her body again, Ona’s thigh slipped between Sams as they danced closely, Sam's hands slipped into Ona’s hair and made a circular motion. Ona’s eyes closed as she was moved around easily. Okay, yeah, Lucy was horny, and jealous?

Sam twirled the petite girl once more and brought Ona’s back to her chest. She brought her face close to Ona’s neck, her lips barely just touching Ona’s skin, then twirled her again. She began to slowly dip Ona backwards, her hand gliding up the girl's thigh, revealing her muscular leg. She pushed her thigh high, against her own body, it looked so sexual, it almost felt like you were interrupting something. Her face came close to Ona’s lips then, down her neck, then down her chest. 

Lucy was feeling many different feelings right now, and horny was the biggest one, but she was also so proud of Ona. She didn’t know the girl could dance like that. The music ended and Sam slowly brought Ona back up to her feet, both smiling and out of breath. 

The hotel guest jumped to their feet and cheered, including Lucy. Ona looked straight at her girlfriend, happy to see her smiling. 

Sam lifted Ona’s hand and bowled, she then took a step back to let Ona have the moment. Lucy looked at her girlfriend, she was slightly out of breath, her face was flushed, her once neat hair tousled. Lucy needed her. 

Sam whispered something in Ona’s ear but that girl was paying her no attention, she could feel the way Lucy was looking at her. In this very moment it was just her and Lucy, her green eyes were undressing her body. 

Sam brought over the cold champagne. “Ona, everybody!” The crowd clapped once more. Ona thanked Sam while taking her prize. She made quick steps towards Lucy. 

“Room. Now” 

That's all Ona needed to say and Lucy was up.

Ona gasped as her back hit the wall of their hotel room. Lucy’s mouth was all over her neck. Her tongue sucked, and licked at her bare skin. She was leaving marks. Ona could tell. She couldn't stop her even if she wanted to. Lucy was lost in a haze, biting and sucking her skin in between her lips. She wanted to mark the girl. Make a point that she was hers. No one else's. 

“Fuck, Luce.” Ona struggled to see straight. 

“You liked it didn't you? All day. Making me jealous? Hmm?” Lucy asked. 

Ona smirked. “Sí, I did.” 

Lucy hummed. “I guess I’ll have to remind you who you belong to.” She gave Ona a particularly sharp bite to the neck. Making the girl cry out. 

She grabbed the shorter brunette by the waist, her lips attached to hers. She kissed Ona deeply, almost roughly. She cradled the back of her head as she moved them to the foot of the bed. Ona moaned at the sheer strength of Lucy's tongue, pushing its way into her mouth, taking full control of the kiss. She pulled back.

“Strip. Get on the bed.” Lucy commanded. 

Ona nodded, striping herself of her clothes. 

The older brunette made her way to their suitcase, looking for her strap. Lucy removed her clothes, leaving her completely naked. She pulled the harness up her strong thighs, adjusting the thick strap between her legs. She heard a small gasp behind her. She turned around to see Ona on her back, her head on the pillows with her hand between her legs. Lucy smirked, she loved watching Ona pleasure herself, she would watch her all day if she could, but she would always end up replacing Ona’s hand with her own, or her mouth. 

She slowly walked over to the bed, Ona’s fingers were glistening with her juices, her eyes closed tightly as she circled her sensitive clit. Lucy watched as her girlfriend started to lose herself in her own pleasure, her small whimpers and whines making Lucy lose her calm resolve. She wanted to be inside her. She kneeled on the bed and slowly crawled to the petite women, trying not to make too much movement. She was like a moth to the flame, mesmerised by Ona, she couldn't take her eyes away from her glistening lips, her own mouth watering at the sight in front of her. 

The taller brunette brought her lips to Ona’s thigh, kissing the sensitive flesh. Ona smiled, feeling her girlfriends lips on her, she opened her eyes watching Lucy crawl closer to her.

“Kiss me.” Ona whispered. 

Lucy moved higher up Ona’s thighs, closer to her sex, Lucy could smell how wet Ona was, the buds on her tongue watering at the thought of tasting her. She couldn't wait any longer, she would normally tease Ona a lot more, kiss her all over her petite body, make her beg for her, but she had waited too long. She dipped her head to Ona’s core, causing Ona to move her hand away. She took one long lick up her folds onto the sensitive bud. 

“No, Luce kiss me, please.” 

Lucy lifted her head up, Ona was looking down at her, pleading for her. She could never deny Ona anything, especially like this. She crawled up to the shorter brunette, her body was so small under hers. She made sure to let the dick rub against Ona’s body as she moved, reminding her exactly what she was going to do to her. Reminding her exactly who Ona belonged to.

Ona squirmed as she felt the thick rubber press against her. She grabbed Lucy's face and brought their lips together. Ona tried to take control but Lucy didn't allow it, she roughly pushed her tongue into Ona’s making her gasp. The older brunette was losing patience, and Ona could tell. Her strong hips started to move against Ona’s body, she wanted to fuck her, she wanted to here Ona scream her name.

But so did Ona. She wasn't the only one who got riled up by jealousy tonight. Yeah, Lucy maybe had to endure it a lot more, but Ona also knew Lucy was about to wreck her. And she knew she could go for hours if she wanted to. And Ona needed to come now, not in a couple of hours, while Lucy made her beg. The petite girl wrapped her leg around Lucy's body and easily flipped them. Lucy was on her back with Ona on top, smiling down proudly at her own strength.

“You’re so easy Luce.” The shorter brunette whispered into her ear, making Lucy shiver.

“I’m going to ride your face until I’m satisfied, then you can do what you want with me. Does that sound good, baby?”

Lucy nodded quickly. This was the Ona people didn't get to see, (for obvious reasons.) The sweet doe eye Spaniard could be just as dominating as the brunette beneath her. Maybe even more.

She quickly crawled up Lucy's body, ready to take what she wanted from her. She planted her thighs next to Lucy's head and lowered her wet pussy onto Lucy's hot mouth. 

“Fuck.” Ona’s eyes closed as she dropped her head back. As soon as she felt Lucy's soft mouth on her painfully throbbing clit she couldn't wait. She moved her hips into Lucy's mouth, she snaked her fingers into the dark roots of Lucy's hair, and grinded her hips. Lucy wrapped her hands around Ona's hips, helping her guide her movements. She lapped at Ona’s cunt, her thick juices covered her tongue, the girl was wet. Lucy swallowed the mouthful of fluids, moaning as she felt the wetness glide down her throat.  

Ona had one hand in Lucy's hair the other on the head board, giving her full control in how she moved her body against Lucy's skillful tongue. She was dominating the situation, and Lucy was happy enough to be used for Ona’s pleasure. She loved when Ona took charge, the dominant energy in her would switch off so easily, and allow the normally softer lover to take what she wanted. 

Lucy wrapped her lips around Ona’s soft bundle of nerves, making the girl groan loudly, her hips becoming more rough. She knew Lucy could take it. She could feel the swell in her stomach grow. She grabbed Lucy's head with both hands and began to fuck her face, she could hear how wet she was as Lucy slurped on her velvety folds. 

“Hmm, Lucy, your mouth. Are you swallowing?” 

Lucy hummed. Ona had a kink for Lucy swallowing her essence, she loved to hear the girl's throat drinking her down. Especially when she came, she would hold Lucy's head down to make sure she cleaned and swallowed every bit of her up. Not letting her move until she was happy. 

Ona felt the tickling vibration from Lucy's mouth. She smiled down at the girl as she fucked her face. “Good girl. Make sure you swallow when I come.”

Lucy hummed again. Sending sweet vibrations into the petite girl. “Fuck, Lucy, Just like that, Dont stop.”

Ona grinded her hips deep into Lucy's mouth. Her thighs started to shake. The grip in Lucy's hair was almost painful. She let out a cry as she felt Lucy suck perfectly on her clit. She came hard against the girl's tongue. Lucy groaned as she felt Onas wetness slowly drip into her mouth. Swallowing it as loudly as she could. Ona slowed her movements, trying to catch her breath. She looked down at her beautiful girlfriend, licking and cleaning her up. She gently stroked Lucy's hair back. 

“You’re so good. So good.” 

Lucy hummed as she continued licking and swallowing, catching every drop she could. Ona didn't move, she stayed on Lucy's face, enjoying the feeling of her tongue stroking her sensitive folds. They stayed like this for a while, until Ona decided she wanted more. She began to move her hips again, gently this time. Allowing Lucy to move at the pace she wanted. 

Lucy looked up at Ona, she watched as her girlfriend's body gently rocked against her mouth. She looked breathtaking. Her long brown chestnut hair dripped down her chest and back, her eyes were closed as she was lost in the pleasure of Lucy's mouth. She began to make small whimpers as she approached her second orgasm. She came again, crying as she flung her head back in pleasure. Lucy swallowed and suckled just the way the Spaniard liked. Ona gasped as Lucy caressed her with her tongue, finally not able to take anymore, she lifted herself off the older girl and dropped on the bed beside her.

“Your mouth’s amazing.” Ona breathed out. 

Lucy chuckled, she sat up looking at Ona’s body next to her, she could see the bruises forming on her neck from her earlier assault. Her cunt was aching looking at her.

Lucy wasn't a rough lover, she definitely liked to take control and be in charge but she wasnt rough. But with all the emotions of jealousy running through her, seeing Sam's hands all over her girlfriend's body woke something up in her. She moved to the end of the bed, she leaned forward and grabbed Ona by her waist, easily moving the girl. Ona yelped.

“On your knees.”

Ona looked shocked by the sudden change in Lucy's mood. She dropped to her knees in front of Lucy. Ona saw the huge appendage between Lucy's legs, it was their biggest toy, Ona enjoyed using it now and again but a lot of the time Lucy had to go slow. So it wasn't their most used item.

Ona didn’t feel as cocky as she did before, staring down Lucy’s huge strap.

“Open.” 

Ona nodded her head, she opened her mouth and took in the tip of the dick. Lucy's hands snaked into her lose her, guiding her head down the dick. She stopped before she got half way, the girth of the toy was already stretching out her lips.

“That’s it baby.” Lucy started to move her hips forward, pushing Ona’s head back against the mattress. Ona’s hands were on the older brunette's thighs. Lucy removed her hands and pushed them above her head, onto the mattress. Making her press deeper into Ona’s mouth. The spaniard gagged as Lucy began to slowly fuck her face against the bed. 

“You look so good Ona, you're taking it so well. Don’t stop baby.” 

Ona felt the thick plastic slide its way down her throat. Ona could tell Lucy was definitely about to take out some pent up anger on her throat. And that was exactly what the Spaniard wanted, she knew she pushed Lucy today. 

Lucy’s hip started to pick up pace, she held Ona’s wrist in one hand the other gripping at her head. Ona moaned at the new speed, she could feel herself dripping, being used like this from Lucy was a rarity, Lucy looked down at Ona, her doe like eyes were prickling with tears. Her lips sliding up and down the appendage. 

“You drive me crazy Ona.” Lucy pushed deeper. 

Ona’s head was basically trapped between Lucy and the mattress, she could feel her breathing getting more difficult as the dick took up most of the space in her throat, restricting her of air. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, she started to choke around Lucy's dick. Lucy pulled back, Ona gasped as air hit her lungs again. Her spit was attached to the tip of the strap. Lucy smiled down at her. 

“Take some more.” Lucy pushed her dick back to Ona’s swollen lips. 

Ona opened her mouth, ready for what Lucy would want to give her. 

“So, you enjoy making me jealous?” Lucy snapped.

Ona’s eyes squeezed shut as Lucy pushed herself deeper into her mouth. 

“You liked making me angry? Liked flirting with your little girlfriend?”

Ona moaned, angry Lucy was a sexy Lucy. Spit started to dribble from her mouth at Lucy's pace.

“Look at you, you love it don't you, Ona? You love being a little brat.” 

Lucy finally slid the whole strap down Ona’s throat, pushing the base perfectly against her clit. She rocked her hips into Ona’s face, thoroughly face fucking the girl. Ona began to choke on the thick plastic, tears rolled down her face.

Lucy pulled out of Ona’s mouth, not wanting to actually hurt the girl. Ona coughed and sputtered as she was able to breathe again. Lucy grabbed Ona by her arms and threw her on the bed like she was nothing, another thing Ona went wild for, Lucy's strength, the girl could carry her around like she was nothing, and when she was angry, like she was now, it would always came into play.

Lucy didn't wait around, she sunk two fingers into Ona’s core. The girl gasped at the new intrusion between her legs, Lucy couldn't help but smile at the beautiful noise that escaped Ona’s mouth. 

“So tight Ona, you need to open up for me.” Lucy purred in the girl's ear.

“Fuck, Luce.” Ona groaned, Lucy picked up the pace quickly, the obscene noise that came between Ona’s legs was pornagraphic. She was so wet from Lucy fucking her face, and Lucy knew it. Ona loved rough sex, Lucy did too, but she was always the one to make sure Ona was okay with everything they did. They had their colours, they knew the limits, and Lucy knew Ona would stop her if she ever needed to, the same went for Lucy.

Lucy removed her fingers from Ona and rubbed her wetness over the strap, covering the dick in Ona’s natural lube. The girl had a lot of it. She lined herself up, looking down at Ona’s pussy. 

“You ready baby?”

“Please Lucy, I need you.” 

Lucy pushed the head off the very girthy dick into Ona’s dripping cunt. She would normally let Ona get used to the thickness but today she didn't have the composure. She pushed her hips until she bottomed out into Ona, causing the girl to whimper with each inch that pushed past her tight walls. 

“Fuck Ona.” Lucy knew she couldn't actually feel it, but the noises Ona made alone drove her crazy. She started to grind her hips into Ona, the shorter girl whimpered in her ears as she took what Luct gave her.

“L-Lu- cy!” Ona groaned out as she felt Lucy speed up, the pain quickly turned into pleasure as her pusy swallowed her. 

“You’re mine, Ona.”  Lucy grunted.

“Si. Si. Yours.”

“Don’t ever forget that.” Lucy started to suck on Ona’s skin. Making more marks. 

Ona couldn't talk, the pace of Lucy's hips was unforgiving. Lucy was lost in her own world, fucking the girl beneath her. She grabbed Onas leg and lifted it over her shoulder, pushing herself ever deeper into the petite girl. She groaned at the tightness of the girl. Ona groaned deeply, swearing and muttering between English and Catalan. Lucy was working her body hard, all that pent up anger being used on her body, it only made Ona more wet, building up another orgasm.

Lucy could feel the base of the strap hitting her perfectly. 

“You’re taking it so well baby. You didn't even make me go slow, you’re so good. So good for me.” 

Lucy's words pushed Ona further to her climax. Her body was sweating underneath Lucys, the girl's stamina was a curse and a blessing.

“I’m going to come Lucy.” 

“No, just a little more baby. Wait for me, just a little more.” 

Ona gritted her teeth as Lucy used her body to chase her climax, her own knot in her stomach was stepping dangerously close to the edge. She knew if she came Lucy wouldn't stop, and she didn't think she could take that kind of work on her body right now. So she tried her best to hold on. 

Lucy's hips moved a fraction deeper inside the Spaniard, getting herself closer to her end goal. But it only made it harder for Ona. 

“L-L.” 

“Shhh baby.” Lucy brought her hand up to stroke Ona’s sweaty head. “You can take it. Just a little more. Give me a little more.” She grunted, closing her eyes, as her clit started to throb. She looked down at the beautiful girl below. Her big brown eyes looked up at Lucy, there was so much love in those eyes, so much trust. Pushing Lucy closer.

Ona sucked in her breath, she closed her eyes, her head was throbbing from the pressure of it all. Until she heard that unmistakable groan from the girl above. 

“Fuck, I’m coming.” 

Lucys hips pushed deeper into Ona, the girl let out a high pitched cry as she was finally allowed to come. Lucy let out a deep groan, her hips never stopping, until her body reached that perfect release, pushing the girl deeper into the mattress. 

“Fuck.” Lucy panted into Ona’s sweaty neck. She gently pulled out of the younger girl, flopping beside her.

“You okay?” Lucy looked over at Ona.

Ona smiled. “So good.” 

The girls caught their breath. Lucy slipped off the harness. Ona rolled over to her girlfriend, and began to kiss her neck, sucking and biting her sweaty skin. Lucy gathered Ona’s hair in one hand and guided her down her stomach. 

“Give me your mouth baby.” 

Ona happily did what she was told, and made her way down Lucy's body, kissing her abs on the way down. She slowly kissed her hips, then slowly made her way down to the crease of Lucys lips. But she didn't touch her where she needed her. She slowly kissed over her wet lips instead, and began to kiss her thighs. She knew Lucy didn't have the patience for her teasing. The older brunette grabbed her chin.

“Keep teasing me, and I’ll fuck you over that balcony and let your little girlfriend see how loud you can be.” 

Ona chuckled. “I love you.” She smirked.

Lucy groaned. This girl was such a fucking tease. She smiled and stroked Ona’s face lovingly. “I love you baby. Now let me come in that pretty mouth.”

Ona wrapped her lips around Lucy's swollen clit. Lucy hissed at the first touch, she wasn't going to last long at all. Ona moaned as her girlfriend's arousal soaked her tongue, she began to suckle on the bundle of nerves just the way she knew Lucy loved. The older brunette, entangled her fingers into Ona’s long hair and started to fuck her face. Ona moaned at the grip on her hair as Lucy used her body once more to get off. 

“Just like that. You look so beautiful like this.” 

Ona moaned at Lucy's words. The girl grinded her hips into her mouth as Ona’s tongue hit her clit over and over again. 

“I’m coming. Don’t stop.” She pulled Ona closer into her core, keeping the girl where she needed her. Ona felt Lucy’s juices cover her tongue, she groaned at the amount of sheer wetness that flowed into her mouth. 

“Onaaa.” Lucy looked down at the girl, her tongue lapped up at her soaking cunt. 

She let Ona stay there for a little while, until it got too much. She moved her head away, laughing at Ona’s pout when the girl didnt want to move. Ona laid next to Lucy kissing her neck and snuggling next to her girlfriend.

“Best holiday ever.” Ona whispered.

“Hmm and it's only the first day.”

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter Five

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Smut. Angst. Word count: ~3.5k

Series masterlist

Chapter summary: Aemond dwells upon the past while trying to live without her.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

The flat door clicks closed behind Aemond and he lingers in the corridor for a moment. This was for the best, he was sparing her, so why does his heart feel so heavy? Every step towards his car feels as though he’s walking through quicksand.

He loads Vhagar into the boot, throwing his overnight bag onto the backseat and sits wearily behind the wheel, gripping it with enough force to turn his knuckles white. He screws his eye shut, attempting to will away the prickling sensation around the rim, alongside the lump in his throat.

I’ve done the right thing. I’ve done the right thing. 

**15 YEARS PRIOR**

Aemond looks up at her from where he’s seated on the edge of the hotel bed, brows arched in pain and disbelief, as tears slip down his cheeks. “So that’s just it, you’re ending things?”

Alys purses her crimson stained lips, perfectly manicured nails of the same shade brush against his cheek as she stands over him. “Oh sweetheart,” she coos, “You had to know that our little arrangement wasn’t forever.”

His heart twinges at this, what could she possibly mean? They are made for each other, two halves of the same whole. He stares at her, confused. “But I love you…”

She laughs, green eyes crinkling with mirth and the sight and sound is a dagger to his chest.

“You don’t love me,” she says, her tone condescending, “You’re barely twenty, you don’t know what love is. You just like the idea of an older woman.”

He shakes his head, feeling himself become angry at her cold dismissal of his feelings. “Then why? Why bother with me?”

Alys sighs. “Look, we both got something we wanted out of this arrangement. You got to have a little fun, and I made sure I got the Harrenhal contract.”

Bile rises in Aemond’s throat, his eye narrowing hatefully as he stares at her, acrid warmth spreading throughout his chest.

She’d used him.

**PRESENT DAY**

Aemond’s own flat feels too big, too empty, too quiet, when he returns to it. The pitter patter of Vhagar’s claws against the hardwood floor as she potters towards her bed is the only audible sound.

He’s never stopped to consider his own living space much before, preferring functionality over comfort. He is out most of the time anyway, so what does it matter as long as things do what he needs them to do? 

It’s only as he leans against the spotless granite of the kitchen counter that he is struck by how lifeless and sterile it is here. He’s grown used to the warmth and cosiness of being at her place; the smell of jasmine that wafts delicately in the air from the incense sticks that her and Mysaria always seem to be burning, being pressed against her on the tiny sofa, her feet in his lap as trashy TV plays just a little too loudly, the tiny space is filled with laughter, comfort and love. Dropped back into his own space he feels as though he’s been set adrift, empty and hollow, yet he has no one to blame but himself.

The bed is too big, he has too much room, he misses the feel of springs digging into his back as he curls himself around her on her tiny mattress. This bed doesn’t feel like home, not anymore, not since he’d laid her down upon it all those nights ago, put her legs over his shoulders and…fucked it all up by leaving without saying anything the next day, just like he fucks up everything. She’d given him a second chance and he’d squandered it.

No, he did what he needed to.

I’ve done the right thing. I’ve done the right thing. 

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face and throws the covers off, walking to the bathroom. Rifling through the medicine cabinet in search of painkillers to dull the throbbing ache in his left eye socket, his fingers close around something cool and metallic.

He plucks it out, studying it carefully. It’s a bracelet of hers, probably left there accidentally from one of the few times she’s stayed over. He turns the silver bangle over in his fingers, remembering the first time he’d seen her wear it. He’d thought to himself it looked cheap, but now as he holds it it feels like the most precious treasure in the world. It’s all he has left of her.

How had he allowed things to go this far? It was only ever supposed to be transactional but he’d allowed it to evolve, letting her occupy a space in his heart and mind that left them both vulnerable. He ended things, not wanting to cause her unnecessary pain and yet in doing so has devastated them both.

Aemond doesn’t do love or relationships. Not even his own family can stand him, so how can he expect another person to feel that way about him, or open himself up to the possibility of having those feelings for someone else? It’s a path he’s trodden before and it doesn’t end well.

**5 YEARS PRIOR**

Aemond leans in to kiss Floris, she turns her head and he catches her cheek instead.

“I’ve just put on lipgloss, Aem,” she says, her voice saccharine, “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

“Mm. Was just about to leave, love,” He tells her, grabbing his keys.

“Forgetting something?” She says with a slight pout and tilt of her head.

“Ah, of course,” he fishes his credit card out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and hands it over to her, smirking as the diamond of her engagement ring glitters with the movement of her fingers, “I’ll see you later. I love you.”

“You too!” She calls over her shoulder, already walking back towards the bedroom.

It’s not until Aemond is almost at his car that he realises he’s left his phone in the flat and heads back upstairs to retrieve it. As he opens the front door he can hear Floris on the phone, only able to pick up on her side of the conversation, he pauses to listen in.

“...I can only put him off for so long. I have to do it occasionally, otherwise he’d get suspicious. It’s that horrible prosthetic eye, it gives me the creeps–”

“...only a few months until the wedding, then I can get a quickie divorce and take half of everything–”

“...no, he hasn’t made me sign a pre-nup, he’s too obsessed with me for that–”

Aemond’s breath catches in his throat as a dull ache spreads its way through his chest. He slams the front door hard enough to alert Floris that he’s home and strides towards the bedroom.

**PRESENT DAY**

The next few weeks are a miserable dirge for Aemond. He buries himself in paperwork at work, in an attempt to push away thoughts of her, yet finds his mind wandering to how she might be spending the working day, whether she’s finally managed to get the museum to commission the exhibit she’s been pushing for or not. He considers dropping by the museum, just to see if he can watch her from a distance, but decides against it. It was his decision to end things, it was for the best, the least he owed her was to stay away.

Aemond sits on his couch in the evenings, the cold, hard leather unwelcoming against his back, the space too expansive as he attempts to watch the same trashy TV on his widescreen that he’d watched with her on her TV. He finds he couldn’t give less of a shit about which couples are voted off of Love Island or who scored the lowest on Come Dine With Me, for him the experience was about being snuggled up next to her on the sofa, feeling her warmth, hearing her laugh. Now she’s gone, and none of the things that accompanied that seem to matter.

Family functions are unbearable without her. He misses the way she’d smile up at him when he placed his hand at the small of her back, misses how effortlessly she converses with his family, even the members he struggles to get along with.

Without her to keep him grounded, he bickers with Aegon, is aloof with his mother and Helaena and actively goes out of his way to antagonise his nephews. He hasn’t just reverted back to old habits, he’s worse, and it’s obvious his family have begun to notice too. He elects just to stay away entirely when invitations are extended.

That is until the night of Helaena’s birthday party. His only sister would never forgive him if he didn’t show up, so grudgingly he goes to the gathering his mother is having for her at her place. 

He stands out on the decking, the same decking where he’d shared his first kiss with her, the memory plays on a loop in his head, he can still taste the red wine on her lips. 

The cherry red tip of his cigarette as he takes a drag provides further illumination alongside the soft glow of the lights through the windows of the house, and the moon that shines bright in the night sky. 

It’s quiet, save for the muffled bass of the music coming from inside. It gets louder as the French doors slide open for a moment, quieting once more as they slide closed.

Aemond rolls his eye, blowing out a tight line of smoke, his shoulders tensing. He wants to be left alone, he had hoped that escaping to the garden would have made that perfectly clear to everyone.

“It’s just me,” Helaena says softly, coming to stand beside him.

Aemond softens, glancing down at her, his gaze drawn to the bubbles that rise to the top of the glass in the gin and tonic that she’s taking delicate sips from.

“Happy birthday, Hel,” he says, facing forward again and taking another drag.

“It’d be happier if you’d actually come inside,” She nudges him gently with her elbow.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be,”

“What’s going on with you? You’re miserable lately.”

“I’ve always been miserable,” He throws his cigarette butt down onto the decking and crushes it under foot.

“You were less miserable when you had your girlfriend. I liked the guy that you were when you were with her,”

“She’s not my girlfriend, never was,” Aemond’s tone is clipped, he purses his lips as he feels irritation prickle at his skin.

“Why not?” Helaena taps the rings on her fingers gently against her glass.

“She deserves better than me. I’ve spared her the inevitable hurt I’d cause her,”

“Hm. You know, there’s only so many times you can use that excuse before it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy,”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve ended things because you don’t want to hurt her, but I bet doing that has hurt her, and you,”

Aemond scoffs, “I don’t do relationships, Hel,”

She huffs a quiet laugh, “No, I don’t do relationships because I’m aroace. You do do relationships, Aemond, you’ve just made crappy choices in the past and you’re allowing fear to dictate your future,”

He narrows his eye, glancing towards her again, “And how do you know so much?”

“I’m incredibly fussy about the insects I choose for pin-mounting, and those just go on my wall. I’m even more particular when it comes to people. I’ve seen how you two look at each other, don’t chuck this away,”

“Hel–”

“I mean it, Aemond. She’s your…your atlas moth! Pin mount her before somebody else does,”

“A truly horrifying metaphor, but thank you,”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles warmly, “You gonna come inside now?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to go. Do you mind?”

“Gonna go get your girl?” She asks with a grin.

“Perhaps,” he says with a bow of his head.

Helaena deposits her drink on the railing and claps her hands together excitedly. “Then of course I don’t mind, go!”

Aemond pulls out his phone as he gets into his car, seeing the Instagram notification pop up on his lockscreen.

mysaria_ww has started a live video

Allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, he clicks on the notification and startles slightly as pounding music blares from his phone’s speaker. The camera sweeps shakily over a couple of obnoxiously lurid drinks before it lands on her.

Aemond feels his breath catch in his throat, his heart seems to skip a beat at the sight of her and he holds his phone in trembling hands as he makes a note of the location sticker. A cocktail bar not far from here.

He locks his phone and is starting the car before he has time to properly think about it.

The bar is dimly lit, the music not to Aemond’s taste and far louder than he’s comfortable with. It’s the type of place that has seemingly endless happy hours and serves drinks that are mostly ice. He bristiles uncomfortably as he descends the steps, but refuses to be deterred. He needs to speak to her.

He freezes when he sees her. Her elbow is propped against the edge of the table, her chin resting on her hand, an easy smile graces her lips as she listens intently to whatever Mysaria is whispering to her.

They’ve been apart for so long that he’s forgotten just how beautiful she really is. It’s like the first night he met her all over again, when he’d gotten out of the car to greet her and she’d stolen his breath away. He hadn’t let her kiss him that night, afraid she’d just be doing it for the money. He won’t make that mistake again tonight.

He walks slowly over to her table and the way her face falls when she notices him makes it feel as though his stomach is in free fall. She looks so shocked and unhappy, she’s never not been pleased to see him. He hates this.

“Can we talk?” He raises his voice to be heard above the music as he reaches their table.

She shakes her head, climbing unsteadily from her bar stool and grabbing her bag. “Oh, I am too drunk for this…”

He watches in dismay as she staggers away, flanked by Mysaria, before deciding to follow them both outside.

“Hey, wait–” He says, reaching for her, and she whips around, eyes wide and mouth tightened in anger.

“I’ll be right here,” Mysaria says softly to her, stepping to the side and pulling up the Uber app on her phone.

“No, you wait!” She shouts at him, “I have spent weeks trying to get over you. You don’t get to make someone fall in love with you and then act like that’s nothing!”

She’s in love with him?! 

He feels his chest tighten at the admission, standing there dumbfounded, he allows her to continue.

“I let you go,” She sobs, streaks of black mascara track their way down her cheeks alongside her tears, “I respected your decision, I didn’t reach out, even though I wanted to. I left you alone, so what gives you the right to ruin girls’ night?! You broke my heart and acted like you were doing me a favour, so why the fuck should I listen to anything you have to say?!”

Because I love you too.

He can’t say anything, as much as he wants to, his throat has run dry. His fingers flex uselessly by his sides, longing to reach out and wipe away the tears and make up that have run down her face.

She’s pulled away by Mysaria as an Uber pulls up to the curb and he can do nothing but watch helplessly as they drive away.

You’re losing her. Do something.

Sleep does not come for Aemond. The image of her tears plays over and over in his mind as he tosses and turns, tears from hurt that he’d caused her. 

He has experienced crying in relationships before; he’d cried when Alys ended things, but he was young and stupid and thought he was in love with a woman twice his age. Floris had bawled when he’d confronted her about what he’d overheard, but they were the crocodile tears of a desperate woman caught out for being a gold digger.

Aemond has never seen the real anguish of heartbreak before, at least not on another person, and he never wants to see it again. He has to make this right. It’s not until he feels the drip from his jaw onto his collarbone that he realises that after weeks of holding them in, his own tears have begun to fall.

It is almost midday the next day when Aemond has everything he needs prepared. The big white van he parks outside of her block of flats is cumbersome to drive in comparison to his sleek, black sports car, but he hopes the inconvenience will be worth it.

Come outside.

He texts her, relieved when the bubble displays as delivered, at least she hasn’t blocked his number.

He climbs out of the van, leaning against it, heart pounding as he looks up to see the curtains of her living room window twitch.

A few moments later she’s stepping outside, a look of confusion on her face. “What’s this?”

“An apology,” Aemond says, “Letting you go was a mistake. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I fucked it up, it’s what I do, I fuck things up. But I’m sorry, and I want to be with you, whatever that looks like for you. I want to do this properly.”

“Why are you doing all of this now?” She asks, folding her arms defensively.

“Because I’ve tried to live without you, and I can’t. What we had was good, so fucking good, and I threw it away because I’m a coward. Just let me make this right, please?”

She sighs, “What’s in the van?”

He motions for her to follow him, and opens up the back, revealing a brand new mattress, still in its plastic wrap.

“A replacement, so I can stay over without feeling like someone has spent all night attempting to make balloon animals with my spine.”

“Presumptuous of you,” She says with a raise of her eyebrows.

Aemond shrugs, “I’m all in,”

She runs her hands through her hair, eyes flitting between him and the mattress. “How the fuck are we supposed to get this upstairs?”

He smirks. “There are removal people coming in an hour, they’ll take your old one away and bring this one up,”

“And what happens if I say no?”

“Well, that’s why I told them to leave it an hour, so I’d have time to cancel in case you did,”

He can see her fighting against the smile that tugs against the corners of her mouth. “I’m not letting you off that easily,”

“I know,” He says, taking a step towards her.

“So what do we do for the next hour?”

“We could give that old, lumpy thing on your bed upstairs a final send off,” he reaches for her and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re pushing it,” she whispers.

“Hmm,” he runs the tip of his nose against her cheek, “I’ve missed you,” he presses a soft kiss to her cheek, “none of it matters,” he kisses her other cheek, “not the money, not anything,” he kisses the corner of her mouth, “not without you,”

When their lips finally meet it is slow and soft, and a contented sound rumbles within Aemond’s chest. It feels like he’s taking his first breath of air in weeks.

They waste no time in helping each other out of their clothes as they hurry upstairs. He smirks to himself as he lays back against the bed, feeling the familiar springs dig into his back, he pulls her to straddle him, allowing her to set a pace she’s comfortable with.

He moans low as she sinks slowly down onto him, the tight wet heat of her enveloping him causing his balls to tighten in a way that builds steady pressure at the base of his spine.

Gazing up at her with reverence, fingers digging into the plushness of her hips, he watches transfixed as her breasts bounce softly with each undulation, committing to memory every breathy moan and gasp. She feels like home, and it has never felt better to return.

When she eventually collapses against his chest, tightening and spasming around him as she falls apart, she takes him with her and he grunts as he feels himself pulsate and spill deep inside of her.

He strokes her hair as he holds tightly, gratitude and love overwhelming him. “You forgive me?” he asks, voice thick with emotion.

“I’m working on it,” she whispers back.

“I can wait,” he reassures her, “I’m all in.”

[foreverisntenough]

- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series contains fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, love bombing, occasionally sad, kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! THE FINAL CHAPTER 🥺 Start reading ‘Ours’ the sequel of this fic! It will chronical what happens in Trent and Y/N’s lives after this part!

INDEX

Chapter 30 - ‘You’re Mine’

The sun bathed your room in morning light. You yawned and opened your eyes slowly pulling Trent’s pillow over for you to hug. It was early but you had a plan to run to the shops before he got home. You felt absolutely exhausted yet again despite copious amounts of sleep so you hopped in the shower to help yourself wake up. Even just picking up products made your arms ache. Your limbs barely moved so you ended the shower with 30 seconds of cold water. Jesus, did that wake you up. You stared at yourself naked in the mirror before wrapping yourself in a towel. As you looked at your slender frame you couldn’t help but wonder what was going to change. How much would change? You tucked the towel moving on from your introspective questions and washed your face. You started your skincare moving slow through serums and onto a moisturizer, product after product. It felt good to take a moment to take care of yourself. You felt like you had to look good today so this was a good start. Trent probably preferred you with no makeup but makeup made you feel more confident so you did some, applying blush, mascara, all the things that made you feel just the best version of yourself. You moisturized your whole body before spraying a Le Labo perfume you had been loving recently and made your way to the walk in wardrobe. You didn’t know what to wear though so you made a mess pulling everything out, trying to figure it out. You combed through piles of clothes and rack more it felt endless but you were getting tired again. You landed on a light pink sweat set. It wasn’t exactly groundbreaking but it was cute.You didn’t want to be in real clothes and you didn’t really want to be anything close to sexy so this worked. You meticulously cleaned your closet back up, putting each item exactly where it belonged. You grabbed a pair of Louis Vuitton sneakers to throw on before you left the house but needed to pick up the bedroom a little before you headed downstairs. Once you did you slipped on your sneakers and grabbed your car keys to exit out through the garage. You jumped into one of the big blacked out cars in there and made your way into town. To get started on your long list of errands to do to prepare for Trent’s arrival you began at a stationary store then off to the bakery, and into a few more shops. The more things you pulled together the more excited you got. For the first time since you found out you actually were excited to tell him. Although, you wanted to keep the way you told him simple. That was your vibe, calm, easy, so you grabbed a little something you were planning to place the pregnancy test in and some cardstock for a note. You went and got food to eat in hopes for after he took the news well and you snuck off to some more luxury stores for something fun you’d give him a little later but that would be a surprise all depending on what his response was. It felt like your car was full by the time you were heading back home. Trent let you know he was coming home around noon so around 11:30 your anxiety really began to hit. You felt like you were shaking as you held a pen over the nice piece of cardstock you got. You wrote a simple note and left it on the kitchen island for him to find when he came in.

‘Come upstairs, daddy xx’

It was humorous and ultimately would be cute once he found out why you said that. In retrospect, the word was really what kickstarted the whole conversation about the possibility of a baby. It was around 12:15 when you finally heard the front door open. You heard his bags drop by the front door the way that drove you crazy but you pushed it aside for the moment unable to focus on anything but listening to his footsteps deducing where he was in the house. Your heart began to race, your mind shifting into overdrive.

“Babyyy?!” Trent called out loud from downstairs but you didn’t respond. You let him find his way. He eventually went to the kitchen and saw the note. He knew you were home, your car was there, you said you would be so he picked up the card you had left and smirked. In Trent’s mind this was a cheeky welcome home. He read the card as an invitation to go upstairs to have some incredible sex after he had been gone. A sort of congratulations he scored a great goal. It wouldn’t have been the first time you’d done something like this but boy was he wrong. He didn’t even click that the word ‘daddy’ wasn’t even remotely there sexually. He jogged up the stairs eagerly chuckling to himself excited for what was going to happen. His mind was jumping around trying to imagine what you’d be wearing, what he’d ideally want you to be wearing. He felt greedy like a little kid in a candy store imagining all the different bits of lingerie you’d worn over the years. He pulled himself together a little bit trying to act cool and suave before he opened the door. God, he hoped it was that pink one but his hunger was dulled. Everything slowed as he looked into your bedroom. The room was warmly lit, all the lights on, it was clean and organized, cream and white colors that made the space comfy and homey, the bed was made perfectly and to further his confusion there he saw you sat crossed legged on the boucle bench at the end of your bed. You had stayed in your light pink sweats and the soft light almost managed to illuminate you. You picked your head up and thought your heart could fall out of your chest. You gave him a soft but very nervous smile. You couldn’t shake your anxiety but there was a part of you that also couldn’t help but feel a little excited seeing him. Just him being back home was enough to make you giddy but this was a new emotion you didn’t know and it was overwhelming you. You stared up at him trying to fight back tears you could feel building. You almost forgot how beautiful he was, you could only dream your baby looked just like him. That face started to make you nervous about what it would fall to because you were about to change his life. Contrary to what he thought, Trent wasn’t even disappointed you weren’t in some lingerie on the bed to be honest. You looked absolutely ethereal sitting there. His angel. Your one hand hiding a little white box behind your back, the other anxiously pulling at the bottom of some strands of hair. “What’s going on…” he hesitantly asked, stepping into the room. You gestured your head to the side signaling for him to come over to you and so he did. Albeit, incredibly slowly. He stood in front of you looking down. You remained quiet. You thought if you spoke you’d start crying immediately so in an effort to not do that you pulled the box from behind you and handed it up to him. He took it and inspected the blankness of it and then looked back at you inquisitively with a smile. He held the sturdy but small white box wrapped with a white ribbon having no idea what was inside of it.

“Go on…” you managed to quiver out in a whisper. At that moment, you were pretty sure the world stopped turning. He pulled the ribbon untying the bow, holding onto it while he lifted the lid off agonizingly unhurried. You felt your leg start to bounce with nerves awaiting his reaction. You watched his face intently for any sign of emotion. His mouth was agape a little, his eyes batted trying to make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he was. He looked into the box completely unexpressive. Inside the little white box laid a comforting bed of thin white and metallic shredded paper with the positive pregnancy test resting a top of it. In slow motion you watched the box fall from his now shaking hands onto the floor. The neat and carefully filled box now scattered on your carpet.

“Are you serious?” He said sternly with no emotion on his face. You thought you might pass out starting to think he didn’t want this anymore now that it was real but you nodded anyway telling him that this was in fact happening. This was very real.

“There are two more positive ones in there.” You pointed to the bathroom sheepishly. Trent dropped to the floor falling into a crouching position. He squatted leaning back on his heels. With his head in his hands you could hear him start to sniffle and his breath start to deepen. “T… I.. I’m” you tried to talk but honestly you were petrified and had no clue what to say. Should you apologize? But before you could come up with something he picked his head up to look at you. His eyes all wet, he gave you the sappiest closed mouth smile that almost had the look of a pout to it.

“Oh my fucking god, Y/N… Y/N” He whined with the deepest set puppy dog eyes that broke your heart. You could see tears roll down his face, he got on his knees and crawled over to you wrapping his arms around your waist dropping his head into your lap. “Sorry, Jesus” he laughed a little, shaking his head, nuzzling into you. “I just didn’t… oh my god, baby… is this for real?” He whimpered out kissing your covered stomach. You were taking his physical actions as a positive but had to know for sure, his words weren’t exactly concretely assured.

“You wanted this right? Like me pregnant? Like we are having a baby” You cooed, giggling a little. It was the first time you had said that. ‘We are having a baby.’ You felt a few tears roll down your own cheeks as you stroked your hand over his hair comforting him as he clung to you.

“You have no idea baby.” He muffled into your sweatshirt top before raising it some. He beamed looking at you. He kissed the warm bare skin of your stomach. “Holy shit, I’ve never been so happy in my entire life.” He continued kissing you. “This is fucking insane.”

“Yeah?” You kept giggling. He pulled off your stomach and looked into your eyes. He held your hands and squeezed them tightly .

“C’mere” he whispered. You watched his perfect lips you were praying your baby inherited from him move closer to you. His lips pressed into yours. They were warm and soft. Warmth blossomed in your chest. Your lips brushed over one anothers. The smell of him, the smell of home was dizzying. You leaned further into the kiss as his lips felt somehow even impossibly softer than before against your own. You both started laughing in delirium though having to pull away. You let go of his hands and cupped his cheeks holding his face some distance from yours to really look at him. His big brown eyes had fallen into deep pools. You wiped your thumbs underneath them, wiping away the tears that had fallen. He looked at you like no one else in the world existed. Trent stared into your eyes and felt that no one else existed in the world, in fact you were his entire world and he was most definitely yours.

“Gonna take care of you forever. This is unreal. We’re having a baby. Jesus, You're perfect, beautiful.” Trent just kept yapping away stunned and so you let him ramble on and on as his hands caressed all over your body. He picked you up and sat you up on the edge of the bed before he came and crawled over you. You laid back with a big childish smile. He looked down at your face and exposed stomach and his heart faltered. His hands pressed into the mattress next to you letting his arms prop him up over you. He dropped his head to come in for another kiss. And another kiss. His lips feeling absolutely addicting. You started to makeout and his body pressed down onto yours. He didn’t know when he got so hard but you weren’t going to call him out. Things started to heat up but he got nervous. “Can I do this?” He said pulling away from you a little sliding his hands under your sweatshirt over your stomach and up towards your boobs. You nodded with a little giggle. “I promise I’ll be so gentle with you, baby.” He whispered. You could only laugh.

“T... it’s okay, we can.” You looked at him ferociously innocently. He never felt more in love with you. He almost felt lightheaded. He was so happy with the news and then now the fact that you were carrying his child, god, he was so turned on.

“Okay… still gonna be gentle with you though. Precious cargo, no?” You both giggled before you pulled him down to you. The space between you vanished. He pressed his lips to yours. His one hand cupped your cheek, gently as promised. He moved you up the bed and sat back taking his shirt off. Your eyes gazed over every inch of him. He was heavenly looking. His body was just drool worthy but you snapped out of your lust when you caught the soft smile on his face looking down at you.

“Help, baby.” You cooed cutely pulling at your top. You sat up some and he helped you take the sweatshirt and your shirt with it off over your head. You laid back and lifted your hips up some for him to then pull your joggers off. He left you in your bra and panties, which okay, this morning you made a conscious effort to pick a particular good set that you knew he liked. Trent couldn’t help his eyes from racking over you greedily. He couldn’t even count the amount of times he had seen your naked body. It was infinite but this felt like the very first time. It was nothing like the time years ago in New York though, this was different, this was love in its very purest form. He absolutely worshiped your body. It did so much for him before, his brain was confused how you possibly were able to do more I.e. carry his child now but also how it was physically possible for him to be any more attracted to you, and yet here he was. His pupils dilated looking down at you. He pulled his sweats off leaving you with the perfect view of his hardened cock’s bulge in his boxers. Both of your heart rates speeding up. He got on top of you again as you began to kiss more and more, hotter and heavier. He dragged his fingers over your body while he moved away from your kiss to come whisper in your ear. His hands gently slipped into your panties and in no time he was slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you purposely rubbing his palm against your clit rhythmically.

“Oh god T… Trent fuck, baby. T…” You moaned trying to push yourself up into him for more friction, for him to go deeper.

“Keep saying my name, baby. Such a good girl f’me, gonna make you feel so good like you deserve.” His warm breath hit your ear sending a shiver down your spine. And, boy, was he determined to make you feel good. He kissed down from your ear all the way down to your core. He pulled your soaked panties off as he continued with his fingers. His name still falling from your mouth. He worked quickly and buried his face into your wet pussy. His tongue toyed with your clit as his fingers diligently worked in and out of you. You were a mess. You couldn’t think straight but it was all so smooth, so caring, so soft, so intentional. It definitely was intentional, he knew exactly what he was doing when you felt the tight knot in your stomach snap pulsating around his fingers. “Did so good.” He muttered into your pussy. The vibration causing you to flinch at the overstimulation. He pulled his face covered in your slick away kissing the inside of your thighs letting you come down for a moment. It wasn’t long before he was fucking into you nice and slow. He filled you up and you felt every single inch of him sliding in and out of you.

“Baby… I’m so full. Oh my god. I love your cock so much.” You moaned beautifully and he smirked. Your words were starting to almost slur from the amount of pleasure you were in as his hand reached down to rub small circles on your already sensitive clit. Your pussy dripping onto the sheets below you as he continued to carefully roll his hips up into you. Trent affectionately yapped away, continuing to spill out how much he loved you, how good you were doing, how beautiful you were all falling from his lips nonstop as he enjoyed the feeling of you. “I want you to fuck me like this forever.” You babled back words muffled by moans and kisses. Your hands came and gripped onto his muscular arms. Your hands pressed back into the pillows feeling fuzzy, blanking out everything but the feeling of him inside you. “I’m gonna cum, T” you cried out “I’m so close.” You felt the know in your stomach tighten again. Your breathing getting heavier. You moved your hands up to his face pulling him into a passionate kiss and then letting your manicured fingers gripping onto his hair, enough to make him whisper at the sensation.

“Cum for me, baby” he cooed between kisses as his hard cock pulsating inside of you. “I love you so much, baby. Keep fucking me. Doing so good.” Your sweet moaning of his name pushed him closer and closer to his own edge. “You sound so pretty, baby” Trent smiled down at your face. You looked up at him mouth agape, watery eyes and were taken aback by how beautiful he looked above you. God, he really was perfect. He kissed you again. The drag of his cock in and out of you made you each for anything to hold on to. Switching between the sheets, his hair, then to his muscular back. His hand found its way to your tits. he caressed it, playing with your nipple while fucking you.

“Ah T… you feel so good. Too much.” You whined feeling him pressed deeper and deeper inside of you. Slow and languid you said it but you didn't want him to stop at all. He knew that too.

“You’re doing so good. Such a good girl” he praised, starting to feel overwhelmed by the pleasure from your pussy. He was close now. To be fair, he had been close to cumming since he ate you out. Watching you orgasm with his tongue on your clit was just the perfect sight. “Cum with me, baby, yeah?” His movements were getting sloppy compared to the perfect pace he had kept at as his abs tensed. His lips parted in deep breaths as his eyes rolled back.White hot pleasure flashed behind your eyes and Trent’s lips pushed against yours as he fucked you through your high. His hips finally stuttered and he paused letting him cum fill you, making sure every drop of him was inside of you, where it belonged. He quickly resumed pushing his hips into you though with a groan of your name. His cock twitched inside you, spent. It was intoxicating, everything was, the way your arms were wrapped tight around his shoulders. Pulling him close, running soothingly along his skin as he collapsed onto you with a final, fucked-out thrust. He traced his fingers lazily along your side, neither of you having enough strength to bother moving. All is quiet in your little haven, and you could almost fall asleep. You laid stuck to each other's bodies for ages. Trent’s hands continuing to slowly caress your body as you cuddled up to him. Your head rested onto his shoulder. He looked down at you and smiled.

“How did you get so perfect, hmm?” He cooed with his hand coming to rest over your stomach. You giggled and looked back at him. His smile made your heart beat a little faster than it already was. “Just so pretty all the time, it’s insane.” He kept talking while he squeezed your waist. “Going to be the most beautiful mummy.”

“Stop…T” You feigned embarrassment. “Well, you can say goodbye to all this now I guess though.” You drudged out waving your hand over your naked body pressed into his. It kind of stung thinking about how much your body was about to change. You had a lot of issues with your image from the jump so to imagine things changing and potentially getting worse than they were now freaked you out.

“Baby, baby, baby… don’t do that. This is so fucking amazing. You’re going to be beautiful before, during, and after, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He cooed again, dropping his hand sliding down to palm your ass. “Trust me, if anything you’re only about to get even sexier.” He squeezed your ass cheek saying that.

“Yeah, yeah you say that now.” You groaned. “You’re just excited for when my tits inevitably get bigger.”

“I’m not just saying it! I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little excited for that, you're right….But baby, it’s not about all that. It’s the fact that you’re beautiful for carrying our child, you know how insane that is?” You nuzzled your face into his body hiding feeling a little shy. You laid there while he ranted on and on about how beautiful you were and you listened patiently until he asked you a question. “So what do we do now?” He started to chuckle anxiously thinking about what was next.

“I don’t know, I’ve never been pregnant before.” You joked equally as nervous.

“Same.” He cooed with a straight face. You couldn’t not laugh looking at him. He always managed to be unintentionally funny and simultaneously very cute in serious moments.

“Okay, well seeing that neither of us have been.” You kept giggling and poked at him. “I made an appointment for tomorrow but if you can’t make it, I…” Trent cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

“I can. Baby, I am here for this whole thing. I will be there. I will never not be there. This is the most important thing to me, you are the most important thing to me… this baby is the most important thing to me.” His face kind of dropped saying his last sentence. It was all becoming very real.

“Oh my god like this is mad…” you looked up at him with a scared expression on your face..

“I’m here for you. You’re mine, right baby? Gonna take such good care of you both.” He cooed and your heart shattered at how sweet he was. It was unbelievable you were about to start a family.

“Yeah.. I know” you sheepishly retorted. He held up his pinky towards you and your heart skipped a beat. He was so fucking cute. “Oh so you really mean it, huh?” You teased him.

“Absolutely. You’re mine forever.” You locked your finger around his and he used the moment to pull your arm and subsequently your body to fall into his into a sweet kiss.

“Do anything for you, beautiful.” You pursed your lips and hummed thinking of all the things he already did for you. What more could you possibly want

“Can you hold me closer, T.” You cooed, batting your eyes at him.

“Yeah, he laughed. “I got you.”

The next day you woke up to a large Trent cuddled up so closely on top of you, you could barely breathe and you liked it this way. You had an inkling this was the way this would go. He was going to be so attached to you the second he found out you were pregnant. You slid up to sit against the headboard. He hummed as you moved, clinging to your stomach tighter, pressing sleepy kisses against your bare skin.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be parents… I feel like I’m 18 most days.” You spoke into the quiet room stroking over his hair guiding your hand down to his back to scratch it gently. He purred feeling your nails. He turned his head on your stomach to look up at you. The feeling of his stubble rubbing and tickling you.

“I guess we gotta grow up.” He cooed with a smile.

“Maybe.. we’ll still be cool parents though right, T?” You giggled as your other hand came to pinch at his cheek.

“Yeah, baby. The coolest. Just adding a new baby best friend to the fam, that's all.” He cooed imagining the two of you, the dogs and the new little baby.

“That’s really cute, T.” You pouted thinking about how adorable the sentiment was. The fact that you were really going to have this baby was sinking in moment by moment. He hummed acknowledging you but returning to his task of kissing your stomach.

Your appointment at the OBGYN was later that afternoon so you and Trent got dressed and were ready to head out. He held your hand walking to your cars but looked at you confused when you let go and walked to the drivers side of yours instead of the passengers side of his.

“You can’t drive…” he looked at you and you started to genuinely laugh.

“What? Why?” Shocked, you asked muddied in a laugh. His face didn’t move. “T… I am pregnant, not like unwell.” You tried to reason with him. He just stepped towards you, slipping his hands around your waist. He tucked his head into the nape of your neck, pressing his lips to you.

“Baby… I need you to be safe, can you just come with me? I want to take care of you.” He whispered. He puckered out his bottom lip, giving you his devastating puppy dog eyes. He was committed to convincing you and it almost worked but you were not caving this time. You held your ground against their allure.

“You always take care of me. I am safe. Also, T, be realistic, we can’t be seen driving together going there right now. I want this to be our moment. Hmm?” you cooed. Your hand came to caress his cheek trying to assure him you were okay but also remind him that your pregnancy getting out to any news source or the general public getting wind would be a nightmare and would destroy any opportunity to have privacy for the next 9 months. He finally agreed and you made your way there.

“You’re only about 6 weeks along.” The nurse spoke softly, looking between you and Trent. “If you and your husband want, we can go ahead and schedule the follow up when you’re at 12 weeks. By then we should be able to find out the gender as well.”

“He’s not my husband.” You patted Trent’s thigh.Your words kind of stung him so he placed his much bigger hand over yours pinning it down. Prompting him to lean over and whisper in your ear.

“Not yet, baby.” He cheekily said and it raised goosebumps all over you. Eventually, you looked back to the nurse and so did he. You could see Trent’s brow furrow a little in your peripheral. He was trying to do the math. “Right so she’ll be 12 weeks that’s…” he paused thinking.

“3 months, baby.” You giggled teasing him squeezing your hand above his knee.

“When is it usually most safe to tell people?” Trent asked inquisitively. This was going to be like everything else, he was going to need to know absolutely everything he could. It was incredibly cute and it was incredibly Trent.

“The fetus is typically fully formed after 12 weeks, that tends to be when people feel comfortable but it is up to your personal preference, your discretion what you’d want to do.” The nurse cooed back.

“So in a month and a half, T.” You giggled again looking at his face continue to struggle.

“I’ll get there, I’m gonna like read or I don’t know, will figure it all out.” He babbled nervously. You smiled sweetly at him squeezing your hand again to reassure him just happy he was with you. He didn’t need to be nervous or do any more. He was doing great. He was amazing already. You left the offices and you clung to Trent in the car park. You swayed back and forth in his arms pressing little kisses to his lips. This was scary and new but at least you had him. You finally said your goodbyes; he went to training and you went home. He went the whole day beaming. Everyone at AXA was so confused by his outwardly cheery disposition but he couldn’t not smile anymore now that he knew he was going to have a baby with you. Later that night, Trent came home when you were in the kitchen beginning to make dinner.

“Nah, nah, nah, I was going to make dinner for you, baby.” Trent's voice almost made you jump. You turned around to see him coming down the hallway holding a big bouquet of pink flowers. You rolled your lip at him and ran over to him giving him a tight hug, abandoning the boiling pot of water on the stove. He wrapped you in his arms and kept you there, even as you cooked. When you were finally done cooking you sat with Trent on the couch eating bowls of pasta sitting unnecessarily close. Your legs draped over his lap. His one hand rubbing up your back.

“I think we should keep this relatively quiet for a little, don’t you? I want to make sure the baby is healthy and I want to share some of this time with just you until we let everyone else know.” You babled stabbing your fork mindlessly into some noodles.

“I understand, agree with you, beautiful. I just want you and the baby healthy so we’ll take it slow. Will keep you two close with me. Make sure everything is okay” He cooed, pressing a kiss to your cheek, squeezing your side. The plan to keep it quiet was great except for the fact that you had to continue on with everyday life carrying a massive secret. It was only mere days later when you had to face the task head on. You sat anxiously at an away game down in London next to Dianne and Tyler. They couldn’t possibly have known but you felt like they somehow did know. It was stressing you out the whole game. You didn’t hide much from his family so this felt wrong. As the final whistle blew you milled about and mingled until Trent was able to come out and meet you after. He beelined directly through a group of people to you, wasting no time with niceties to anyone else in the room. He grabbed you by the waist and his thumbs stroked over your stomach in a coy effort to be subtle. He smiled silently and you couldn’t control the way your heart lurched. You’d think over time his charm would lose its effect or wear down but somehow it only seemed to grow. Him being so sweet about the pregnancy was making it continue that way at a rapid pace.

“We’re so proud of you, daddy.” You cheekily whispered, pulling him into a tight hug. You draped your arms over his shoulders. Trent's heart faltered hearing your words. The word ‘daddy’ had carried way too much weight in your relationship lately. Hell, it got you to this very point but it was a little fun to throw it around now.

“This is the best secret I’ve ever had to keep.” He cooed equally as quiet into your ear. “Love you both so much.” You only giggled in return, beginning to quickly look around the room to make sure no one had heard either of you.

After the game, you all went out to dinner in London. You stood waiting at the bar for your table. Everyone ordered drinks. When the bartender came to Trent, he ordered his quick off the cuff before he turned and looked at you for what you wanted. You gave him a knowing look. He raised his eyebrows at you realizing you couldn’t drink. He leaned over the bar and he spoke quietly to the bartender. He returned and handed you a club soda with a lime. Clever, no one would know it wasn’t your usual tequila soda if they didn’t ask. You smiled cheekily and threw him a wink. You started to talk to Tyler as Trent was talking with his mum. His eyes glued to you. You unintentionally turned your back to him continuing your conversation stirring the little straw around in your soda. Trent watched you over his mum's shoulder. Dianne laughed as she tried to hold his attention. He loved how close you were with his family, how you integrated so quickly. He loved how you were with Tyler and Marcel. It was so important to him that you cared about what he cared about.

“She makes you happy, huh, Trenty?” Dianne cooed watching his gaze soften fixed on you. He shifted in his stance not responding to her. The smile on his face was telling her the answer. He moved around his mum slow squeezing her arm to not totally disregard her and started on his way over to you. You felt his hand come from behind and push your hair off your shoulder. You shuttered under his touch. The feeling of his fingers glide over your neck sending a shiver down your spine. You tilted your head to one side to try to look back at him knowing it was Trent. You watched Trent’s lips turn upwards. His eyebrows rising in smug satisfaction at the hearts that filled your eyes. You turned back with a cheeky grin into him. He pulled you to him and leaned into your ear. He started whispering all sorts of filthy things to you. You shut your eyes and licked over your lips. You pulled away looking at him. You weren’t drinking but you were certainly drunk on love, completely smitten and certain he was the man of your dreams.

"Behave yourself” you giggled, slapping at his chest praying no one could’ve overheard him. Tyler ignored you two immediately the second Trent’s hands were on you resorting to return to Dianne. You sat at dinner bashful and happy. It was such a happy couple of days. It was stressful to have to hide this secret but in general, you and Trent were so happy about the win but ultimately the baby. He was already so touchy with you to begin with but the pregnancy was bringing the affection to a new level. You let him have his way, keeping his hands on you the entire meal. You didn’t mind. You liked it. It made you feel safe. Trent was so protective of you. He kept you close to him instinctively but now, he held you closer with a watchful eye on your stomach. It made you melt and gradually over the night, really horny. When you got home personal space wasn't a thing for you anymore. You hugged his arm, squeezing his bicep, walking back into your house. You were all over Trent. Batting your eyelashes up to him, pressing your boobs against his side as you made your way to the living room.

“You’re not subtle…” he laughed as you tried to convince him to fuck you. You didn’t have to do much, in fact you really didn’t have to do anything at all.

“What do you mean, T?” You giggled feigning innocence climbing on top of him as he sat down on your living room couch. Your boobs subsequently teasingly pressed in his face.

“Alright, I’ll bite, baby.” He laughed. His hands started to caress your body and then swiftly to massage your tits. “You’re very convincing.” He teased you but you just gave him a ‘come on’ look because you knew you were. “Did you know you’re very very hot?” He cooed with a cheeky grin. You sat down on his lap and poorly attempted to reign in the horniness that was washing over you. “Like so fucking sexy.” His words didn’t help that effort. His hands kneading your tits brushing his thumbs over your hardening nipples. The more his hands were on you, the more you thought about your body, the way it was aching for him, and then suddenly, rapidly, you felt yourself tense.

“Hey… you okay?” Trent’s hands slowed in you. You felt emotion rush to your eyes. All at once, your feelings of fear about your body about to change massively came over you. One of the things Trent loved about you was your body and it was about to be gone.

“I’m just scared.” You sugarcoated your emotions for him. His hands fell from your boobs and ghosted down your sides before they settled onto your hips.

“C’mere please” he pulled at you and engulfed you in his arms. “Does it make you feel any better if I tell you I’m scared too?” He said muffled into your neck. His hands rubbed up and down your back comforting you when you least felt it. His honesty did make you feel better.

“Really?” You sheepishly asked. He laughed, pulling you off him to really look at your face. He stared into your eyes. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest.

“Baby… this is massive but you know what else?” He cooed, bringing his hand to caress your cheek. You shook your head softly giving him a ‘no.’ “We have each other in this. We’re doing it together. Hmm? You have me forever, sweet girl. I’m not going anywhere.” He spoke, brushing his thumb over your skin. Your heart warmed. He managed to settle your fears for the moment. He was so reassuring that he would never leave you. You could see it in his eyes, you could feel it under his touch. You cuddled into him. He held you close.

“I love you, T.” You gently spoke, squeezing him a little before resting your head on his chest. You stayed there for a while. The feeling of his heart beat started to lull you to sleep. You tried your hardest to keep your eyes open, to stay awake and in the moment but his loving hold making it incredibly difficult. He pressed a kiss into your hair.

"Go to sleep, baby. I’m gonna be right here forever.” He whispered and you nuzzled further into him. The feeling of being in his arms putting you ever at ease. The vibrations of his voice only pushing you closer to falling asleep. Finally your eyes falling closed. When you woke up the next day you were neatly tucked upstairs in your bed. He always took such good care of you, you never had to ask for anything. You shifted your body only to find that you were alone in the big bed. Your legs moving under the covers some before they bumped into something on the bed.

“T…?” You sleepily whispered out. Rubbing your hands over your eyes. You tried to clear your blurry vision to see where he could’ve been. To no avail, your eyes fixed on the foot of the bed seeing what you presumed to be a gift from Trent.

“Oh you’re up! Morning, pretty girl.” Trent muttered out in a hushed tone, his voice cutting into the room as he rushed over to you. He sat on the edge of the bed and handed you a cup of tea. You raised your eyebrows surprised with a tired smile. You scooted up the bed to lean against the headboard.

“Wow… good morning to you. What’s all this, baby?” You chuckled. You reached out and rubbed your hand up and down the arm he had outstretched on the bed to rest on. He shuffled on the bed though to come sit next to you. He grabbed four boxes and pulled them into his lap. He wrapped his free arm around you, smushing a kiss to your cheek. He pulled you a little closer to him before plopping the first box over on your lap. It was an ambiguously wrapped box so you gave him a curious look.

“One for you.” He cooed and you giggled.

“What’s this for?” You asked pausing before opening the gift: he shot a stern glare back at you so you continued on. You peeled off the paper and saw a familiar orange box you knew well. You opened it slow. It was a pair of Hermes Finesse diamond earrings. You bopped your head back and forth with a big cheesy smile on your face staring at them.

“So pretty, T.” Grabbing his face for a quick peck. You placed the box down onto your comforter after inspecting them for a little while. He plopped the next box in your lap. You rolled your eyes at his childish rough nature so early.

“One for the baby…” he said softly rubbing his hand over your stomach. It was a much larger box than the last. You opened it slow again to find another orange box. You smiled lifting the lid to see an adorable Hermes teddy bear. You pouted your lips at him. You felt like you were gonna cry before he plopped the next one on you, stopping your flooding emotions. “Keep moving along, baby. Have more to open.” He laughed, waving his hand to continue. “For you.”

“You know the baby seems to be getting bigger presents than me, is that how things are going to be?” You teased squeezing his arm. It was his turn to roll his eyes at you. You opened a third orange box. You unlatched a jewelry box to see three stackable rings.

“One for each person in our family now.” He looked into your eyes. You melted thinking of him picking out something so thoughtful. You slid them on and held up your hand to look at the three rings wrapped around your slender finger.

“I love them… I love you.” You collapsed your head onto his shoulder wrapping your arms around his waist.

“You like them, baby?” He spoke before pressing a kiss into your hair. You nodded as he slid the last box over to you. You peeled the paper again slowly to reveal the final orange box. “One more for them” you opened the lid taking your time and your heart slowed. You felt the room close in. You stared down at a cashmere Avalon blanket. You took it out of the box to get a closer look at the detailed lettering embroidered ‘Baby Alexander-Arnold’ That was the tipping point for you. The tears started pouring out. “Oh. C’mon shhh.” Trent pulled you into him. He squeezed you so tight.

“I love you.” You sniffled out. He hummed. You stayed like that for a while. “Wait, wait, actually I got you something too! I didn’t know when to give them to you but now seems good.” You scrambled out of bed messily. Trent laughed at your sleepy body moving without the grace you usually carried.

“Baby, didn’t have to get me anything.” He said as you ran into the wardrobe hearing his voice fade getting further from him. You came out with three bags giddily and jumped on the bed playfully. You took his hands in yours after placing the bags in between you. He gave you a disapproving look for buying him anything.

“Just open it! Please!” You begged childishly pulling on his arm. You shoved one bag over closer to him. He reluctantly grabbed one bag. “Hold on! This one first!” You swapped the bags and he shook his head. He ruffled through the bag and pulled out a baby Liverpool kit.

“Nah… honestly.” He held up the top and turned it around to see ‘daddy’ written across the back with a 66. He looked at you with a sappy smile. Trent felt like this was the first time he really felt like a dad, like this was not only just a baby but his kid. You pecked his lips unannounced. You couldn’t look at the tiny jersey the put getting excited. The idea of bringing your baby to their daddy play was a dream and you knew Trent felt the same. You pushed the next bag at him. He fumbled through the bag again and pulled out a pretty chic, in your opinion, black Prada baby bag. “It’s actually really good.” He laughed unexpectedly, pretty impressed with it. You felt a little relieved he wasn't freaked out by the baby-centric gifts. You picked up the final bag and placed it in his lap. He pulled out a matte all black Prada football. His eyes widened and a big grin pulled across his face.

“Cool dad, no?” You giggled as he threw the designer football up and down. You stopped him when you pulled his face to yours with his cheeks in your hands. His laugh breaking out mid kiss halting it.

“Massively. Thank you, baby.” He cooed muddied in giggles, pressing a kiss to your lips. You hummed. You sat in your bed surrounded by spontaneous baby gifts. You stroked your hand over his high cheekbones. There was nowhere else you should’ve been. This is where you belonged; with your Trent; and that’s just what he was… yours. Trent’s words cut off your moment of reverie. “Not just for these. Thank you for giving me our child.” He spoke softly, rubbing his hands up your sides.

“Ours” you whispered sealed with a kiss.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you thought of the chapter / series … 🤍 This was so fun to write and I really hope you enjoyed it.

Go read the first chapter of the sequel series ‘Ours’ xx

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 8: We’re Completely Undateable, Aren’t We?

You and Joel go on a double date. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 7, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Description of a nude selfie. Description of masturbation. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.5K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“What’s your friend’s name again?” 

Natalie wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as you walked toward the restaurant. It was a nice one - trendy, with an extensive cocktail menu, something you were planning to take full advantage of as you watched Joel put the moves on someone else. Natalie, of course, looked beautiful. Perfect, really. At least, perfect for Joel. 

He’d always had a type. He denied it but he did. Joel had always gone for the effortlessly beautiful type, the kinds of girls in high school you’d have described as a step beyond the girl next door.

Natalie fit the bill, with soft features and natural makeup that perfectly accented them in a way that made you wonder if she was wearing makeup at all. She was unquestionably beautiful, the kind that made you do a double take and wonder what the hell someone like her was doing teaching and not modeling or being an influencer or something that was more lucrative because surely someone who looked like that had easier ways to make a living. 

But she was a professor and she was a good one, too. Several of your students had her for other classes and you always enjoyed when you had a chance to chat with her in passing. Joel was going to like her. How could he not? 

“His name is Joel,” you said. 

“Joel,” she repeated, taking a deep breath and giving a nod that made her curls bounce. “OK. Sorry, I haven’t been on a date in like… six months. I swear I won’t be a total spaz the whole time we’re in there.” 

“Well, we’re going to be in the same boat,” you smiled, your stomach in knots. “This is my first date since my split with my ex but you have to rip the bandaid off at some point, right?” 

“Right,” she smiled back. “We’ve got this.” 

If you didn’t throw up, she was probably right.

You weren’t going to say that.

“Yes we do.” 

Joel and the man he said he was bringing for you were already inside, seated on opposite sides of the table, diagonally from each other and looking like the most awkward pair. Joel spotted you first, his eyes going a little wide before he stood up almost comically fast, his chair nearly toppling over behind him. You gave him a tight smile and a small wave as your stomach got tight. 

This was going to be fucking torture. 

The other man got up, too, and turned to face you and Natalie. He was tall - but not as tall as Joel - and handsome, if a few years younger than you. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. Of course, it might not matter how you felt about it, given how his eyes fell on Natalie. 

“He’s cute!” Natalie whispered in your ear as you approached the table. 

Before you had a chance to respond, she walked up to the other man and smiled, her hand out. 

“Joel?” She asked. “I’m Natalie.” 

“Oh,” he said, looking flustered. “Um… I’m sorry, I’m not…” 

“I’m Joel,” he smiled tightly, his hand out to her across the table. “Sorry…” 

“Oh, God,” she laughed. “No, I’m sorry! I’m Natalie, it’s so nice to meet you Joel.” 

She took the seat next to the other man, anyway, settling in across from Joel as you went around the table to sit beside him. He raised his eyebrows at you but you just shrugged before introducing yourself to the other man. 

“Good to meet you,” he said, shaking your hand lightly. “I’m Blake.” 

“Hi,” you said again, hoping your smile wasn’t too forced. 

You sat next to Joel and picked up the menu, looking it over and trying to force yourself to relax. Except you relaxed so much that your knee brushed Joel’s under the table and it made you jump. He looked at you when you did and you both smiled tightly, almost apologetically at each other. You tried not to frown as you went back to your menu. 

Joel didn’t look particularly thrilled about the current situation. Had you done a bad job of picking his date? You’d thought Natalie would have been a foolproof choice but maybe you were wrong. Or maybe he really wanted you to be across from him so his knee could accidentally brush hers under the table. You gnawed on your lower lip. 

“Everything OK?” Natalie asked, making you look up from the menu. It took you a moment to realize she was talking to you. 

“Oh,” you laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, no, it’s… it’s fine, I… um…” 

“Goldie has a hard time picking something to order at new places,” Joel cut off your stammering. 

You looked at him, a little aghast. 

“I do not!” 

“Please,” he rolled his eyes. “You’ve always been that way. You’re worse now but you can never just get whatever you want, you always have to wait to see what I’m getting so you can steal some and even then you’ll hedge your bets.” 

“As if you don’t steal my food,” you put the menu down. “I don’t know that I’ve ever eaten something that I ordered all on my own if I’m out with you…” 

“You don’t finish it, anyway!” 

“Joel, I have to get a bigger Blizzard than I really want because if I don’t, you steal all of it…” 

“So you two have known each other a long time, huh?” Natalie said and you suddenly remembered that it wasn’t just you and Joel there. You were on a date. With other people. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Yeah,” Joel said, looking at Natalie, one of his signature, charming smiles on his face. “Goldie and I go way back, almost 20 years now…” 

“God, we’re getting old,” you laughed a little and tried to find someplace to look that wasn’t at Joel while he put the moves on your coworker. 

“Goldie?” Blake asked. 

“Oh,” you laughed again, clenching an unclenching your hand under the table. “Yeah, that’s what Joel calls me…” 

“She carried this notebook with this sparkly gold cover with her everywhere,” he said. You could feel his eyes on you and your face got hot. “Seriously, it was practically surgically attached. Still kind of is. But that makes sense since she’s a writer. She was a writer then, too. Always been a writer…” 

“What do you write?” Blake asked, looking intrigued. 

“Not much lately,” you said. “But I have one book that’s published. It’s kind of a coming of age story?” 

“Oh,” he deflated a bit. 

“Sorry,” you said, not sure why you were saying it. 

“No, don’t apologize,” he said quickly. “Just… not really my thing. Sorry. I’m sure it’s great…” 

“What kind of books do you like?” You asked, desperate to change the subject. 

“Well, I’m reading Ulysses right now…” 

“Ulysses?” Natalie cut him off before covering her mouth and clearing her throat. “Sorry. That’s just… it’s one of my favorites. I’m teaching it next semester…” 

“Really?” He asked, turning to face her, his face lighting up. “What do you like about it?” 

“Oh, I love the stream of consciousness structure…” 

They seemed to tune out everything then, totally absorbed in each other. You gave Joel a look and he gave you the same one back. 

You weren’t entirely unused to being with Joel on a date, it had just been a while. In hindsight, you realized you probably hadn’t been the best friend you could have been when that happened. You just continued on with Joel like you did when it was just the two of you, the fact that his flavor of the week was there hadn’t made much difference. You’d never felt like a third wheel. You never had much chance to feel like a third wheel. 

You were pretty sure you and Joel were the collective third wheel now. 

“This isn’t going well,” Joel said, keeping his voice low and turning his head like he was looking back over the shoulder that was closest to you. 

“It is for them,” you said, disguising it with a sip of water. 

“Good evening!” The server mercifully came to the table and introduced himself. “Can I get you folks started with a bottle of wine or perhaps some of our speciality cocktails?” 

“Oh thank God,” Joel muttered. 

“Anybody else want wine?” You asked before anyone had a chance to react to what he said. You snatched up the wine list and skimmed to a mid-priced cab. “This winery is excellent, everyone good with red?” 

“Sounds great,” Natalie smiled. 

“Sure,” Blake smiled. 

You didn’t bother to wait for Joel’s response and ordered the bottle and a martini because dear lord if you were going to make it through this night you needed to be a lot drunker than this. 

The server left and you exchanged a tight smile with Natalie before Blake cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“So,” Natalie said after a moment. “You said you like this winery?” 

“Oh,” you glanced quickly at Joel. “Yeah, I did a tasting there a few years ago, they’re in Sonoma, really excellent reds…” 

“So, you like to travel?” Blake asked. 

“Yeah, it’s always fun going somewhere new,” you smiled. “How about you? Anywhere really fun you’ve been?” 

“Oh, I uh… Don’t really like to travel,” Blake said. “Much more of a homebody type.” 

“Me too,” Natalie said, sounding a little too excited before clearing her throat. “I just really like having my quiet time, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Blake nodded. “You know, me and Joel work in contracting and I’ve really tried to make my home a place I really want to be, it’s my favorite place in the world.” 

“See, that’s so wonderful,” Natalie said. “I’ve always wanted something like that but I’ve been bouncing from apartment to apartment for years so it’s hard to really customize things…” 

The two of them were off again and you and Joel were left awkwardly sipping the wine the server came back to pour. 

It stayed like that all through dinner. All four of you tried to make conversation with the person you were there to see. You really, truly did. But it always led to Blake and Natalie being totally absorbed in each other while you and Joel were left sipping wine and pretending that you weren’t being effectively ditched by your dates. 

“Can you excuse me for just one minute,” Natalie said as you were waiting for the check, giving you a look across the table. “I just need to pop to the ladies’ room…” 

“I’ll come with you,” you said quickly, grabbing your purse and following her. 

The second you were behind closed doors, she grabbed your hand, an apologetic look on her face. 

“I am so sorry,” she said. “Your friend seems great, really, and I know that Blake was your date tonight but would you mind if I got his number? If you’re really into him or you think it would hurt Joel’s feelings I absolutely won’t, it’s really not a big deal…” 

“Natalie,” you smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. “I doubt Blake even remembers my name right now. Absolutely, get his number, no hard feelings at all.” 

“You’re sure?” She winced. 

“Definitely,” you said. “Please, don’t miss out because you’re worried about being polite or something with me. You two seem like you have a real connection, you should go for it.” 

“Thank you so much!” She gave a little squeal. “OK now that it’s OK for me to say it? I’m really excited, I really, really like Blake.” 

“Good,” you smiled. “I’m happy for you.” 

Joel and Blake had picked up the tab by the time you got back to the table and the four of you headed for the door, Natalie and Blake sticking close together while you and Joel hung back. 

“Hey, Joel,” you said as you made it to the door. “One sec, let me show you something…” 

He frowned as you put your hand in his and tugged him to the side in the parking lot. 

“What?” He asked, glancing back at Natalie and Blake before looking at you. 

“Just going to give them some space…” You trailed off, leaning around him to watch where Blake and Natalie were talking, Blake pulling out his phone and smiling as they did. “And there it is.” 

“What?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder but you grabbed him by the chin and made him look at you, his eyes going wide. 

“Don’t look!” You hissed. “God, you have no tact…” 

“Shut up.” 

“They’re swapping numbers,” you said. “Two love birds over there…” 

“Jesus,” he groaned. 

“Sorry,” you said, stopping watching them and focusing on Joel again. “Didn’t think you’d mind too much…” 

“Yeah, didn’t exactly feel a love connection with Natalie,” he sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You OK with Blake not being the one?” 

“Think I’ll survive,” you smiled tightly. You glanced around him one more time. Phones were back in pockets. “OK I think we’re good.” 

“C’mon Cupid,” he said. “Let’s go get shot down.” 

You snorted but followed behind him to the edge of the parking lot where Blake and Natalie were waiting. 

“So, if you don’t mind,” Natalie said, still wincing a little. “I was going to have Blake take me home? Catch up with you next week?” 

“Sounds good,” you smiled before turning to Blake. “It was nice meeting you.” 

“You too,” he said, at least being polite enough to look sheepish about it. 

“Good to meet you, too, Joel,” Natalie said. “Really, you seem… nice.” 

“Same to you,” he said, hands still in his pockets. 

The two of you stood there, side by side, as your dates went home together. 

You sighed and looked over at Joel once Blake and Natalie were safely in his car. Joel looked back at you. 

“We’re completely undateable, aren’t we?” He asked. 

“Yep,” you nodded once. 

He sighed. 

“Well, at least we have each other.” 

“Could be worse,” you agreed. 

“Want to come over?” He asked. 

“Yes but…” you bit your lip. “Can we go to Sonic first? I kind of really need a shake now.” 

Joel laughed. 

“Absofuckinlutely we can.” 

***

“You really think this is a good idea?” 

Your head was dangling off the seat of the couch, your legs draped over the back as you looked at your phone screen.

“Better idea than all your blood rushin’ to your head for however long you’ve been sitting like that,” Joel replied, sitting on the floor with his back to the love seat next to you. He tried to ignore the way your body curved in that position. The shape of your legs, your ass pressing into the cushions, your breasts swelling over the cups of your bra and giving him a glimpse of your cleavage in the v-neck of your dress. 

You set your phone on your stomach and looked longingly at the styrofoam cup on his coffee table. 

“What?” He asked. 

“I want my shake.” 

“So drink the shake!” 

“I don’t wanna sit up,” you whined a little. Joel laughed. You’d added a generous amount of vodka to the shake and it was starting to show. You reached for the cup, arm outstretched, fingers groping but it was out of reach. You whimpered and he sighed, bringing the cup alongside your head. You tried to take it but he pulled the cup away for a moment. 

“Just wait, I’m holdin’ it,” he said. “Take a sip if you actually can from that position, you weirdo.” 

You rolled your eyes with more dramatic force than Sarah on her best day. 

“You’re being controlling,” you said, putting the hand that had been reaching for the shake on your stomach by your phone. 

“Tryin’ to keep you from wrecking my carpet,” he replied, putting the shake by your head again and putting the straw in your open mouth. “Don’t choke.” 

“Don’t choke,” you mumbled mockingly around the straw - or he thought you did, anyway. It was hard to tell. You managed to actually get some milkshake into your mouth but almost immediately grimaced. Joel took the straw away. 

“You OK?” He laughed. 

“Brain freeze,” you winced, eyes scrunched closed. “Ugh, why would vodka and chocolate betray me in this way?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine, Goldie.” 

“You think this is why my date ditched me?” You asked, eyes still closed in a wince. 

“What?” Joel laughed. “Because chocolate and vodka decided to attack you personally?” 

“No,” you frowned, the upside down angle of your head making it look like a sad smile for a moment. “Because I like doing shit like this. I probably should have out grown this years ago.” 

“Hon, if some asshole is telling you to grow up, he doesn’t deserve you,” he said. “Now let me see that damn profile.” 

You sighed and surrendered your phone. While sitting in Joel’s truck at Sonic after your respective dates had crumbled, Joel redownloaded Tinder and you decided to set up a profile of your own. But you’d never had a dating app profile before. You sat on the couch, gnawing on your thumbnail and ignoring the milkshake you’d wanted to stop for until Joel went and got the liquor. After a few shots - and a generous amount added to your shake - you loosened up enough to fill out the profile. 

But you hadn’t loosened up enough to finalize it yourself. 

“OK well we’re changing out these pictures,” Joel said, scrolling down the page. 

“What’s wrong with the pictures!” 

“Did you scroll through your album to find the most boring photos of you ever taken?” He asked, lowering the phone enough to look at you. “Because these are not doing you justice…” 

“Fuck off,” you tried to shove him but almost fell off the couch instead, gasping then giggling as Joel caught you. 

“Jesus, please try to not break your neck,” he said, heart in his throat as he helped arrange you on the couch. “Just got you back, rather you not die in my living room…” 

“Give it a few months,” you settled into the couch again. “You’ll change your tune.” 

He scoffed, scrolling down your profile. 

“See, you didn’t pick the best prompts,” he said, frowning. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, adjusting your head to try to see him better and then giving up. 

“You’ve basically just said what your job is four different times,” he said. “Can I fuck with your profile?” 

“You’re the expert,” you shrugged. “Shake please.” 

Joel sighed and held the cup up so you could reach the straw again before going into your prompts. 

“Alright, if you had 20 minutes left to live, what would you do?” Joel asked, lowering the phone to look at you again. 

“I don’t wanna say,” you pouted a little. 

“Well now you have to,” he teased. “I gotta know. Is it masturbate? Eat your weight in chocolate ice cream? Tell Brad to go fuck himself? What?” 

“Not telling.” 

“I’ll tell you mine,” Joel said. “C’mon…” 

“No.” 

“Goldie.” 

“Joel.” 

“Don’t make me beg, he said. “I will withhold your alcoholic shake.” 

You quirked your jaw for a moment before you sighed. 

“I’d come see you,” you said. “There. Happy?” 

Joel’s heart beat a little faster. 

“Goldie…” 

“Don’t make fun!”

“I’m not!” He said quickly. “Really, I’m not, I promise I’m not.” 

“Feels like you are,” you muttered. 

“I’m not,” he said gently, moving so he was leaning on the couch next to you. “Promise.” 

“Yeah, alright…” 

“Hey,” he said. You lifted your head slightly, enough that he could see your face better. “I’d come see you, too. Assuming I had Sarah with me, of course.”

“What about Tommy?” 

“Fuck ‘em,” he smiled a little and you laughed. “Just don’t tell him I said that.”  

“Probably shouldn’t put that I would go see some other guy on my dating profile,” you said, letting your head dangle again. “Pick another prompt.” 

“How about this one,” he said. “I want someone who… will travel and explore new places with me. Sound good?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “I like that one.” 

“Here’s a good one,” Joel said, letting a teasing edge slip into his voice. “Your biggest red flag is… fucking old dudes…” 

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “The prompts suck.” 

“We’ll figure ‘em out later,” Joel said. “I’m going to find a picture of you that doesn’t look like it was taken at some fuckin’ work conference…” 

“Hey!” 

“You’re a fun person,” Joel said, going to your photo albums. “You’ve lived a little. Try showing that.” 

“Fine,” you sighed. “But I promise, there aren’t many pictures that are worth your time.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Joel said absently as he went to the map of photos. He pulled up the cluster that appeared near San Francisco. “See, this one’s good.” 

He held your phone in front of your face, a picture of you smiling in a vineyard. 

“Says you like to travel and like wine,” he said. “And you look good in it.” 

“Alright,” you said, a smile in your voice. “Put it in there.” 

“Not a first picture though,” he said. “We’ll find a better one for that…” 

“Knew you’d have this down to a science…” 

“Shut up,” he laughed, going back to the map. “You’ve been to Europe, right?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “For the book tour.” 

“Let’s see,” he said, heading across the ocean on the map and finding pictures in London. “Oh see, these are good, you’re all done up for work and shit but it’s in a cool place. So much better than that one shot you picked…” 

“Whatever you say,” you said, smile still evident in your voice. 

Joel toggled through pictures. You at the Tower of London, you by that big damn ferris wheel, you by Big Ben, a selfie with a woman who was pretty but not nearly as pretty as you. You holding your book and smiling with a room full of people in the background as they watched you intently. He smiled to himself, looking at the photo for a moment. He was so fucking proud of you, that you’d actually done the thing you’d always dreamed of and people loved you for it. He reached over and took a drink of your shake as he swiped to the next image but he immediately choked on it. 

It was a picture of you, a selfie. You were flat on your back on a fluffy white comforter, your eyes hazy with want, breasts bared for the camera. 

He knew he shouldn’t be looking at this. He knew. This wasn’t for him, this was for… well, presumably that fucking asshole you spent a decade married to. But before he could consciously stop himself, he memorized you. The swell of your breasts, the pebbling of your nipples, the curve at your waist just as the photo cut off. And that look on your face. How many times had he remembered - pretended? - that you looked at him like that when he’d been inside you? 

His conscious mind took over again. He coughed on the shake, dropping the phone and the drink. 

“Shit,” you said, adjusting quickly to help clean up. “Are you OK?” 

“Fine,” he said, trying to scramble for the phone as he hacked and coughed. Where the fuck had it fallen? “Just… wrong tube…” 

“Yeah, try not to do that,” you teased and Joel’s stomach dropped. Your phone was in your hand. 

“No, wait!” 

“What?” You laughed. “It’s my phone…” You looked down at the screen of it for the first time, your eyes going wide before you clutched it to your chest. “Oh my God, please tell me you didn’t see that!” 

He was quiet beyond his subsiding coughing for a moment. 

“It’s not that big of a deal…” he began but you groaned. 

“I can’t believe…” 

“I’m really sorry,” he said quickly. “I swear, I wasn’t looking for -”

“It’s not your fault,” you cut him off. Joel suddenly realized exactly how close the two of you were and he sat back from you. You winced, the expression passing quickly. “I’m sorry. I forgot that was even there, I thought I’d deleted it…” 

“It’s not a big deal…” 

“I just…” you looked at him, those eyes wide with a desperate need for understanding instead of just desperate want. “Look, things were already in a shitty place with Gale and I was trying to keep him interested when I was half a planet away and I was… well, I was obviously willing to try anything and - “ 

“Goldie,” he cut you off. “It’s OK. Really.” 

“No, it was stupid,” you looked down at your phone, barely pulling the screen away from your chest as you - presumably - deleted the picture. “It didn’t get me anywhere. I don’t think he even directly replied to that photo and it clearly didn’t do much to save my marriage and now… So yeah, it was pretty stupid.” 

“It wasn’t stupid,” he said gently. You scoffed. “It wasn’t. You were trying to take care of something that mattered to you. He was a fucking dumbass. You weren’t stupid.” 

He was suddenly close to you again - or it seemed sudden, anyway. But he was close enough that he could smell your shampoo and see the different shades in the iris of your eye. You were close enough that kissing you would be easy. Or it would be if there wasn’t so much between you. 

But maybe, just this once, it’d be easy. Actually easy. 

“We’re home!” Tommy’s voice boomed as the front door smacked into the wall. 

“Aunt Goldie!” Sarah shrieked, tearing into the living room as you smiled at her. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” 

She damn near hurdled Joel and launched herself at you, almost toppling you over as you caught her. 

“I didn’t either, kiddo,” you laughed and gave her a squeeze. “But your dad’s and my plans changed. I was just about to head home, though.” 

“Aw man,” she sat back from you, pouting a little. “You’re not sleeping over?” 

“Remember those cats we got earlier this week?” You asked, brows raised. “Not very nice for me to leave poor Puck home alone when he’s still new in the house, is it?” 

“I guess,” she sighed dramatically. “You should bring him next time. Him and Swiftie can be friends.” 

You smiled. 

“I’ll think about it.” You turned to Joel, looking down at the melting shake on the floor. “Can I help? Where are the paper towels, I can…” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said quickly. “You should probably head home.” 

“Right,” you smiled tightly, leaning around Joel to see his brother and gave him a wave. “Hi Tommy. Long time no see.” 

“You’re lookin’ good, Goldie,” he smiled. “Still out there being smarter than everyone?” 

“Mostly,” you replied. “You still pretending rolled up pieces of paper are cigarettes?” 

“Sometimes,” he smirked. “When I’m bored and I need excitement.” 

You laughed at that and gave Sarah a final hug before leaving. Joel watched you go before sending Sarah to the kitchen for the paper towels before telling her to get ready for bed. 

“She behave?” Joel asked as he mopped up the spilled shake and tried to get the image of you, half naked and desperate, out of his mind. 

“An angel, as always,” Tommy said. “You two sure made a mess…” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joel snapped, looking up at him. 

“Nothing,” he put his hands up. “Just an observation.” 

“Well,” Joel went back to cleaning up the mess. “Observe something else.” 

“Date went that well, huh?” Tommy asked. Joel could hear his cocky smile. 

“Something like that,” he muttered.

“You two will figure it out eventually.” 

“Yeah,” Joel sighed. “Helped her get a Tinder profile set up tonight…” 

“Not the kind of figure it out I meant, brother,” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder and groaned a little as he got up. 

“What kind did you mean?” Joel asked. 

“Well, figure it out and then you’ll know,” Tommy said. Joel rolled his eyes. “I’m out, been a long day.” 

“Thanks for taking Sarah,” Joel said. “I appreciate it.

“Thank me by getting your shit together,” Tommy replied. 

“Yeah,” Joel sighed. “I’m workin’ on it.” 

Tommy left and Joel managed to get the shake out of the carpet before heading to Sarah’s room to put her to bed. He read some of the book they were working on aloud and tucked her in before going to take a shower himself. 

Not that he needed one. He’d taken a shower just before getting ready for the date, it had only been a few hours. 

But he needed privacy. He needed to know that his daughter wasn’t going to overhear anything or come wandering in at an inopportune moment. 

The shower helped. 

He couldn’t wait for Sarah to fall asleep. It was like that picture was burned into his fucking retinas, he needed to get it out of his system now. He needed to get you out of his system. 

For now, he’d settle for the picture. 

It didn’t take much for his cock to be so hard it ached and he palmed it under the flow of hot water, working himself from root to tip. He tried not to think too much about the picture at first. He’d never been supposed to see it, it wasn’t right that he saw you that way. 

But he gave in quickly. He told himself it’d be just this once. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just this once, just to move past it. 

He let himself pretend. Pretend that you’d sent him that picture, pretend that you looked at him all desperate and needy, pretend that he got to take off your clothes every night so he could touch every inch of you. He’d been so caught up in what was happening the one time he was with you, the overwhelming intensity of his first time all tied up with just how badly he’d wanted you for so long, he wasn’t sure how much of you he’d actually touched. Not really. But he wanted it to be all of you. He hoped it was all of you. He pretended that he knew all of you in that way as he worked his cock, hard and fast until he came so hard that it spilled over his hand and onto his shower wall. 

“Fuck,” he panted, leaning against the wall for support as his cock went soft in his hand. 

He needed to fucking get past this. It wasn’t worth blowing up his friendship with you, hadn’t he learned that by now? He had to get his shit together. 

He repeated it like a mantra as he cleaned himself up and toweled off before heading to bed. But he couldn’t sleep, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if you were OK. If there was a chance you were thinking of him like this somehow, too. 

Joel picked up his phone and went to text you for a moment before he decided against it. Maybe space was better. You probably needed some time after he saw that picture. 

Right? 

Instead, he opened Tinder. Maybe he could at lest find a decent option for a one night stand, see if fucking someone else helped get you out of his head. He’d never just fucked someone else when you were anywhere near him, though. Could he even do that now? Did he even want to?

He swiped right on the first few women on the app, not spending much time on their profiles and going off their pictures alone. He swiped left on the next one and was preparing to do a quick swipe when your face was in front of him again. 

It wasn’t the picture that was lodged in his brain. Instead, it was the picture of you at the Tower of London. Your hair was done but a little messy from the wind, a gentle but happy smile on your face. 

He just looked at you for a moment. You’d activated your profile in the short time since you’d left his house. 

You had Tinder now and he should have anticipated this. Of course if you added the app and lived this close you’d appear on his. But that didn’t make him any more prepared for it. 

What the fuck was he supposed to do? 

Did he swipe right on the off chance you did, too? But if you didn’t, he’d have to live with the fact that he knew you didn’t. 

If he swiped left, it could all go away. Be like it never happened, not you looking for someone else, not him stumbling upon that damn photo, none of it. If he swiped left, he could actually try to find someone else. 

His finger hovered over the screen for a moment as he tried to remember exactly what your skin felt like in his hands. 

He swiped left. 

Next Chapter

A/N: I know, these TWO. I love them. They need to figure it out but I love them.

I hope you do, too!

Stuff is going to ramp up a bit soon. Thank you so much for being alone for the ride! I know I haven't been replying to comments reliably lately (I keep posting chapters super late and just going to bed as soon as I post them instead of responding) but please know that every time I get a comment email to my inbox, it makes me smile. So thank you thank you thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings with me and thank you for caring about this fic. It truly means the world.

Love you!

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Twenty

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Jake and Bob finally talk; Jake makes a startling statement and Ducky's water breaks

WC: 1K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

You sat on the couch wearing a dress that stretched over your mountain of a stomach, feet swinging. “Come on, Cowboy!” you yelled out. “This isn’t the Miss Texas pageant!” 

Jake appeared from the doorway, running a hand through his hair. He had on a pair of jeans and a thin cashmere polo tucked in at the waist. He looked nervous. 

“Are you ready?” he nodded. “Help me up, please.” 

Jake held out his hands and lifted you gently as you groaned. “You alright baby?” he whispered. 

“I’m enormous,” you complained. “And she’s kicking my ribs like she’s getting paid for it.” 

“Maybe we have a soccer star on our hands,” he replied, placing one hand on your belly. 

You looked up. “I don’t think I need to tell you how important it is to me that tonight goes well.” 

Jake sighed. “I’m well aware of what’s at stake, Y/N.” 

You frowned. “Why do you say it like that?” 

“Let’s just go,” he said, grabbing his truck keys from the table near the door. 

“No. Tell me what you meant.” 

Jake groaned. “I’m really not in the mood for this.” 

“Well neither am I, but here we are.” You were being stubborn and you knew it. It was one of your less attractive traits, as your mother always said. 

“You want to know the truth?” Jake whirled around to face you. “That’s my baby in there. But I know for a goddamn fact that you’ll pick your family over me if it comes down to it. And that if for some reason Floyd and I can’t figure this out, you’ll pick him over me. And I’m not going to get to be a part of my kid’s life. Not in the way that I want to be.” 

It took you a moment to reply. And just as you opened your mouth to speak, Jake cut you off. 

“Let’s go,” he said quietly. “We’re going to be late.” 

***

The drive was silent, punctuated only by the sounds of your scraggly breath as the truck ricketed over potholes. Jake kept both hands on the wheel, gripping it hard. 

You were quiet as he pulled into a parking space, Bob’s truck already parked across the way. When you went to slip your hands into Jake’s, he shifted just enough out of the way. 

Inside, Bob sat at a corner table wearing a linen shirt, a look of disgruntled discomfort across his face. He stood up when he spotted you, reaching out to kiss your cheek. “Ducky.” He straightened. “Hangman.” 

“Floyd.” 

“Call each other by your first names,” you demanded, plopping down into the chair and taking a sip of ice water. “Please.” 

“Jake,” Bob bit out.

“Bob.” 

“There. Was that so hard?” You winced as the baby kicked, hard, against what may or may not have been the remaining shred of a spleen. 

“Are you alright?” Bob asked quietly. 

You looked up and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” You cut him off. “Can the two of you just talk please? So I can go home and put on my pajamas.” 

“If you want I’ll take you home now.” Jake offered. 

“Jesus fuck,” you grumbled and they both looked up, startled. “Talk to each other. Now.” You crossed your arms over your chest, resting them on your belly. 

Jake sighed while Bob leaned back. 

Finally, Jake said, “I called Joe the other day. After what happened at the restaurant.” 

Bob frowned. You did, too. “Who is Joe?” 

“Dakota’s husband,” they replied in unison. 

“Asked how he was doing. How Blake was. He’s in the third grade now.” 

“I know that,” Bob bit out. “He’s my godson.” 

Jake hung his head. “Listen, Bob, I’m trying here. Do you know how many times I woke up that first year after the accident in the middle of the night drenched in sweat? How many times I wondered if it would have been better if it was me in her seat. What if I had just gone down instead.” He sucked in a breath. “I’m about to be a father. And it’s made me do a lot of thinking. I’m not saying it was right, or that I don’t regret it. But maybe there was a reason I wasn’t the one who we lost out there. Maybe this is what I was meant to do and be. And I think I owe our daughter, Y/N’s and mine, everything I can give to her. And that means being a father who isn’t constantly haunted by ghosts.” 

The air was still. In front of you, your spaghetti was getting cold, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Jake and Bob as they sat across from each other in silence. 

“Tell me the truth,” Bob said, gravely voice barely above a whisper. “Do you love my sister?” 

“Yes.” It was automatic. Your heart jumped into your throat. “I love her. I’m in love with her. I’d do anything for her.” 

“So marry her.” 

“Bobby!” you slapped his upper arm. “You shut up.” 

“I’m serious,” he said. “Marry her and provide a good life for her.” 

“Happily.” 

Your eyes went wide. “What?” 

Jake turned to you. “I know you’re scared and that’s OK. But when you’re ready, I’ll be here. Because I’m ready for this. All of this.” 

Your heart started beating fast. You felt the air tighten around you as your reached out to grab the edge of the table. 

“Ducky?” 

“Baby? Are you alright?” 

“I think, I’m—”

The rush of liquid from beneath your dress stopped you mid sentence. You looked up. 

“I think I’m in labor.” 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@blue-aconite @bobfloydsbabe @bobfloydssunnies @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @spinning-away @myfaveficrecs @withahappyrefrain

@gigisimsonmars @shanimallina87 @seresinsweetie @seresinhangmanjake@mycobrakai1972 @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @justanothermagicalsara @na-ta-sh-aa @rosiahills22 @sometimesanalice @seresinslady @seresinsweetie @seresinhangmanjake @mrsjobarnes @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @palepeanutponyshoe