#one day I will remember to stick one in there! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

borathae · 2 days ago

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↳ Index [Snippet #55 - Body Chains]

“When you get drunk on a houseparty and sneak away to fuck.”

Genre: married life!AU, houseparty!AU, Smut

Warnings: switch!Kook, switch!Reader, the switching in this is so good, they get drunk together & dance their hearts out, he is so effortlessly attractive, ah yeah they also have a lil roleplay where they pretend to be strangers meeting at the party (they last ten minutes bahhaha), Jungkook’s tiny waist, he wears body chains + a crop top and oiled himself up, I’m literally foaming at the mouth, Wednesday!JK levels of devoted & needy vibes from him, drunk giggles & making out, he is a very giggly and vocal drunk, he is also a goof <3, consensual & mutual drunk sex, thigh riding, dry humping, cumming in her panties, dirty talk, mutual stripping, nipple play & licking for him, whiney Koo <3, a very quick blowjob ofc, the bodychains stay ON during sex, rough penetrative vaginal sex in Mating Press & Deep Missionary, clit play, his chains hit her clit as he fucks her, creampies, sappy & cuddly aftercare, ah yeah they do all that in Tae's bed JFAJDFJ & he has no idea bruh

Wordcount: 9.4k

a/n: this is based on anonie's idea. But listen. this is lowkey a story about his waist jsjsj like i kept thinking of all the dainty waist koo pics which exist and you besties have no idea how feral i feel for his waist like i am OC in this story, this is practically me jjajaja either way, have fun besties 🧡

You are at Jimin’s place today, getting ready for Taeseok’s (that’s how Hoseok and Taehyung like to jokingly call themselves to your friend group) annual summer party. Most of the town’s party folk is going to be there and you have been looking forward to it for weeks. You still remember how you and Jungkook snuck glances at each other when you weren’t a thing yet and how he got jealous of Taehyung “hooking up with you”. Oh times were so much spicier back then. Not that you would ever want to trade the safety and comfort you have with Jungkook these days, but sometimes you miss the sparks of being in the getting to know each other stage.

This is why you are currently at Jimin’s place, while Yoongi is at your place. You and your best friend are going to go to the party together, while Yoongi and Jungkook will go there as a duo. You plan on meeting each other there and pretending to be strangers meeting for the first time.

The plan is perfect and so sexy.

Jimin is singing loudly, dancing to the song on the radio as he is putting on his eyeshadow. You sit on the floor in front of the mirror, busy with your own eye makeup. You join him in song every now and then, dancing in your seating position and laughing loudly whenever Jimin twerks way too aggressively.

Your days of youth might have passed already, but mentally you still feel like a late teen getting ready with your best friend for the best night ever. Especially this year around where you pretend to get ready to meet “your potential new boyfriends” at the party. Oh it is so much fun to play this silly little game of pretend.

You and Jimin already shared a bottle of sparkling wine, feeling giggly drunk.

“What do you think? Red or peach?” Jimin asks, holding up different kinds of blushes against his cheeks.

“None of them. Pink. It fits with the top.”

“You know what? You are so right, girly”, Jimin says and switches the blush to a pink one. He smiles so his cheeks stick out and applies a generous amount on his face. You busy yourself with applying mascara, pulling a silly face for it.

Jimin finishes first, posing in the mirror.

“Do you think that there’s gonna be cute boys at the party?” he asks for the sake of the roleplay.

“I hope so. I really wanna make out tonight.”

“Yes god, that would be so much fun. I wanna grind on a cute boy. I’m not gonna stop until he’s hard.”

“Of course you won’t. God bitch, you’re such a whore.”

“I so am”, Jimin agrees and turns to dance to his jewellery stand. He drinks from the bottle as he does, singing to the song whenever he can.

You are almost done with your makeup. Only your lips are missing now. Then a quick touch up of your hair and you can stand up.

“What do you think?” you ask, pulling a pose.

Jimin studies you from head to toe.

“Biiitch you look hot dot com. I bet the boys are gonna fight for your attention.”

“Thank you, thank you. I tried.”

“Well you definitely nailed it. You look sexy as fuck”, Jimin says and holds up two pairs of earrings, “left? Right?”

The left is a pair of silver sterling hoop earrings. The right is silver as well, but two studs with a white gemstone in the middle.

“Left. Definitely. The right ones are way too boring.”

“Good choice”, Jimin says and looks at the small stand mirror, “I’m so excited, seriously. Taeseok’s summer parties are always so much fun.”

“I know, right? I’m already so curious about DJ Tete”, you snicker at the name, “I wonder how he’s gonna do.”

“I bet he’s gonna be awesome. What’s the time by the way?”

You check your phone. A picture of you and Jungkook is looking back at you. He is leaning in and kissing your cheek while you are smiling into the camera. Your heart flutters. You are so excited to see him at the party.

“___?”

“Huh?” you let out, meeting Jimin’s eyes.

“The time. Girl, did you just stare at your screen?”

“Sorry, I looked at the pic”, you say, showing him your lock screen, “he’s so handsome. We went on a beach walk with Bam when we took this pic. God, I love this man so much.”

Jimin chuckles, “hey, pretend. Girl, you don’t know him yet. You’re single and ready to mingle.”

“Yeah right. Ah shit, I forgot”, you whine.

Jimin laughs, “that’s fine, I get you. I keep wanting to text Yoongi updates on my outfit. You think they’re almost ready too?”

“Yeah probably. Kook’s been planning his outfit all week. He didn’t let me see it even once. I’m going crazy because I wanna know what he picked out.”

“Same, oh my god”, Jimin exclaims, “Yoongi’s been locking his office since Wednesday ‘cause he has his outfit in there. I’m going crazy. I need to see him or I might pass away.”

“I feel you, god”, you groan, throwing your head back in frustration, “what do you say, should we text them that we’re ready already?”

“No”, Jimin snatches your phone away, “pretend. We’ll meet them at the party. Maybe, wink wink.”

“Fine urgh”, you give up, “now give me back my phone and let me have a sip as well.”

Twenty minutes later, you are in front of Hoseok’s and Taehyung’s place. Hoseok opens the door for you, greeting you with his brightest heart shaped smile. He is in jeans shorts and a neon green crop top which really showcase his defined ab-lines. He matches his nails to the shirt.

“Look at you guys. I’m so happy that you could come”, he cheers and hugs you tightly. The masculine scent pf his cologne tickles your nose.

“Of course we’d come. Your summer parties are the highlight of the year”, you tell him.

“Yeah dude, we’ve been looking forward to it for months”, Jimin says, hugging him.

Hoseok steps back with a squeaky giggle, looking happy about the praise.

“What can I get you?”

“We’re gonna look around for a little if that’s okay. Is Tae already playing DJ?”

“Not yet, he’s by the pool with Joon and Jin.”

“Nice, we’re gonna say hey.”

“You sure that you don’t want me to get you something?”

“Fine, get us your special cocktail. I know you have something brewing.”

Hoseok grins, “that’s what I like to hear”, he says and hurries away in happy skips.

You and Jimin make your way outside to the pool.

Your friends are chatting with each other, holding cocktails. Namjoon and Seokjin are wearing matching fishing shirts, while Taehyung is wearing a fishnet shirt with leather shorts. He spots you first, lifting his hand to wave you over. Namjoon and Seokjin smile, waving as well.

“Hey guys, nice outfits”, you greet them, giving each of them a hug.

“Right? We bought it at a gas station for ten bucks. And look.”

Namjoon and Seokjin do a synchronized twirl, showing off their back. The words “New Dad Alarm” is stitched into the back in neon yellow lettering.

“Why?” you laugh, “you guys aren’t even dads.”

“No, but it’s the vibe that counts.”

“You guys look like a couple of fishing gays celebrating the adoption of their child”, Jimin teases.

“And? It’s the vibe that counts”, Seokjin throws back to which Namjoon snaps his fingers sassily.

“Alright, we’re not gonna stop your fishing gays with an adoptive child vibes”, you joke with a snicker on your lips, “and you? Are you the fishing net to the fishing gays?” you address Taehyung.

“Hey, uncalled for. I’m a hot queer with a nice ass and good tits”, Taehyung says.

“You really are”, you say, nudging his cheek, “sorry, you know that I was only being a dick right now?”

“I do. It’s fine, I know I look hot.”

You snicker, agreeing with a nod of your head. Hoseok appears by your sides with his signature cocktails. He hands each of you a glass, then sits down next to Taehyung.

“Where are your husbands?” he asks.

“Actually, we’re single today”, Jimin says.

“What are you guys playing again?” Seokjin asks with a knowing look in his eyes.

“We’re pretending not to know each other so we can hit each other up”, you explain your perfect plan to which Jimin snickers and nods his head.

“And you guys wanna judge our fishing gays vibes.”

“Hey, we weren’t judging. You guys rock the look”, you defend yourself and take a sip of the cocktail. It tastes sweet with a hint of coconut at the end, “the cocktail’s amazing. Wow.”

“Thanks, I worked on the recipe for a week. Tae and I solely consumed cocktails this week.”

“Really?”

“No, he’s being dramatic. There were a lot though”, Taehyung says and sips on his cocktail, moving his head to the music as he does.

It isn’t long and you find yourself in the kitchen with Jimin. If there is one thing you and your best friend are, it is party alcoholics. You rarely drink in your daily lives, but love getting drunk when going out. It is only natural for you and him to get yourselves another drink once the cocktail was empty.

It is Jimin’s turn to mix the drinks. Taehyung’s current boyfriend is still DJing, filling the beach mansion with bassy techno music. You move to the sound of it, scanning your eyes over the crowd.

Hoseok and Taehyung really know a lot of people. There are faces present which you have never seen before and you have been coming to these parties ever since you were sixteen and Hoseok threw them in his parent’s basement.

It is impressive how there are still new faces each year. Your eyes halt. Wait a damn minute, you know this face. And you know this face too!

“They’re here.”

“What?” Jimin’s head snaps up. “Where?”

“There. Entrance.”

“I can’t see.”

“Girl, there” you say and take Jimin’s hand to drag him closer to the entrance area.

“Oh there! Holy fuck. Oh my fucking god, look at them”, Jimin gasps, grasping your arm for support.

You agree with him. Jungkook has never looked hotter before. He is wearing black skin-tight jeans with a black belt. He paired a very small crop top to it. Silver body chains peak out from underneath it, accentuating the paths of him. Judging by how glowy his honey skin is, he oiled himself up. Holy fuck indeed. It takes everything inside you not to storm to him and instantly take him.

Jimin is having just as much of a hard time. Yoongi is also wearing black skinny jeans and combines a cropped t-shirt and a black choker with it. His belly button piercing peaks out from under the hem of the tanktop, his black tattoos are exposed as well. He seems to have oiled up his toned arms.

“Girl sorry, but I need to have this man”, Jimin says and abandons you to run to Yoongi.

Yoongi, who clearly wanted to roleplay, gets surprised as Jimin flings himself around his neck and kisses him deeply.

Jungkook launches to the side in surprise, gawking at them. Yoongi stumbles at first but soon catches his rhythm, grabbing Jimin’s ass greedily as his lips melt with his’.

Seconds later, Jimin collides with the wall and Yoongi slams his hand on said wall above his husband’s head. Another second later, you can see tongue. Lots of tongue.

Well there go your plans of pretending to be strangers. You huff out air in frustration, pouting. Jimin could have at least tried to control himself.

Jungkook looks away from the violently making out couple, scanning his eyes over the crowd in search of you.

Maybe you could still pretend. It isn’t too late yet.

He meets your eyes. Your heart skips a beat. He is looking at you like a golden retriever having spotted his owner. Seriously, if he had a tail, he would wag it vigorously right now.

He abandons Jimin and Yoongi, making his way to you through the crowd.

You let him think that you will wait for him until he is just a few steps away. His eyes are sparkling like crazy, his lips are curled into a giddy smile.

You turn your back to him and flee into the kitchen. You can’t see his reaction, but you know for a fact that confusion and offense are both on his features.

You hope that he is following you. You swerve past a few people once in the kitchen. Your goal is to get a drink. Vodka with some orange juice as mixer. It’s honestly not a good drink, but it gets the job done.

You are in the midst of pouring in the orange juice when Jungkook appears by your side.

“Hey there.”

You try to ignore him. Your heart is racing like crazy. This is so exciting.

“Uhm. Hey”, he tries again louder this time around, leaning a little closer in case you can’t hear him.

You give him nothing, despite really wanting to look at him.

“Helloooo”, he singsongs, tapping your shoulder.

“One second”, you tell him and finish pouring the juice. You close the package of juice, putting it back in the fridge. And only then, do you finally turn to look at him. You scan your eyes up and down. Fuck he is so hot. You need to devour him. Not yet. You have to stay strong.

“Hey”, he says one last time, giving you a lopsided smirk.

“Hey.”

“Why did you run away from me?”

“Do I know you?”

Jungkook seems taken aback for a second before realisation lights up his face. He smiles, lowering his eyes playfully.

“Not yet”, he leans against the counter nonchalantly, “but that can change. I’m Jungkook, but you can call me JK if you want to”, he says, offering you his hand to shake.

You eye it, but don’t take it. You sip on your vodka orange, leaning against the counter just as nonchalantly as he does.

“JK you say?”

“Or Jungkook whatever you might prefer. I can also go by yours if that’s more to your taste.”

He makes you laugh. Of course he still got it.

“Mine? Well, that’s ambitious.”

“What can I say, I’m an ambitious dreamer.”

“You definitely are”, you say, running your eyes over his torso.

The crop top is just long enough to it hides his waist in certain angles and exposes it in others. He styled his hair out his face and clearly did his eyebrows. He currently keeps his hair shorter and his sides even shorter. He looks to die for. You need to eat him up. You take a sip of your drink instead, meeting his eyes again. He knows that he is sexy. It is obvious in his eyes.

“You are single, aren’t you?” he asks.

“Why?”

“I’d hate to accidentally hit up someone taken.”

“So you’re hitting me up?”

“As of now, I am.”

You smile, “I’m single, yeah.”

“Really? Wow, I could have sworn that someone like you is already married.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone as beautiful as you. I was sure for a second that someone was already lucky enough to catch your eye.”

“Mhm not yet”, you say, following his body chain until you can study his neck instead, “my eyes are definitely caught right now, though.”

“The feeling’s mutual”, he says, taking a step closer. Just a little one.

You take a step back, feeling tingles of excitement when Jungkook’s eyes darken in the thrill of the chase. He lets out a sexy chuckle, fixing his posture with a roll of his shoulders.

“What are you drinking?” he asks.

“Vodka orange. It’s nasty.”

He laughs, “I can imagine. I’m more of a whisky guy myself.”

“You are?”

“Mhm”, his eyes flit to your lips, “I like the burn.”

Everything inside you tells you to close the distance and kiss him stupid. You need this man like air. Not yet. Let’s play for a little longer.

He seems to struggle too. His eyes keep flitting to your lips and if they aren’t yearning for a kiss, they are on your chest. You purposefully wore a really short and tight dress tonight. It’s definitely working.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“___.”

“You have a really pretty name.”

“Thanks. My parents picked it for me.”

“Your parents seem to have done a lot of things right with your creation.”

You laugh, trying so fucking hard not to call him an idiot. He is so silly and funny and you love him so much.

Jungkook laughs with you, inching closer. You don’t flee this time around, staring at his smile as if it was art. It is.

He puts his hand on the upper corner of the fridge. He is so close like this. His eyes don’t lie. They never could. He is so utterly in love with you even if you pretend to be strangers.

You can’t stop looking at him. Your eyes can’t lie. Even of you tried, they couldn’t. He is the love of your life, even if you pretend to be strangers.

You could never pull off this roleplay perfectly because it’s in your eyes.

And somehow it just makes you and him so excited tonight. To know that even if you were strangers, you were meant to be. The memory of years ago, when you were truly strangers, feels foreign to you and him, but this is what makes it so good. The connection. The memories. The safety and trust you built. The knowledge that once this party ends, you and he can go home together to your doggy son and you can fall asleep cuddling. This is what makes it so fucking good. Knowing that you already found your person.

“So do you live here or are you just visiting?” he asks.

“If you don’t want to, we don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“Really?”

You nod your head. Jungkook laughs in relief, knees buckling as he melts in giddiness.

“I’m so glad. It was so hard to act as if I didn’t know you. How are you, baby? I missed you. Oh my god, you’re so sexy, I can’t stop looking at you. I missed you so much”, he babbles, cradling your cheeks.

You melt into his touch. This is it. This is what matters.

“I missed you too. Let’s never ever do a separate sleepover again.”

“Never. Ever.” He insists, shaking his head.

“At least we held out longer than Jimin and Yoongi.”

“Right”, he looks around the room in search for them, “they’re probably fucking somewhere.”

“A hundred percent they are. Jimin spent like an hour douching. I know cause he told me every detail. I even had to help him wax his ass.”

“This sound like Jimin. But oh my god”, his knees buckle again and he pouts as he talks, “you’re so pretty. I missed you so much, baby. I can’t stop looking at you”, he whines, brushing the back of his hands down your face.

“What should I say? You look so fucking good, holy damn.”

“You like it? I wanted to be really sexy”, he explains and steps back to flex, pulling a dorky face for it.

Of course it makes you laugh because he is the funniest person ever. It also makes you swoon however. His muscles look very good when he flexes even with clothes on.

“What do you think? Do I look sexy to you?” he asks, flexing his arms.

“You look so sexy. I could eat you, I’m serious.”

“Thanks, yeah”, he lets out and finally gives in completely. He giggles, swaying giddly. He drops his head on your shoulder, hugging you against him, “let’s never ever be strangers again, baby.”

“Yeah. Never. Ever.”

He squeezes you and steps back, holding your hand as he talks.

“How was your day?”

“Fun. It was nice acting like teens with Jimin. Yours?”

“Fun too, but I missed you like crazy. I wanted to keep sending you texts.”

“Me too, oh my god.”

He smiles giddily. So he wasn’t the only one going crazy without his other half. He gazes at you, heart racing.

“Are you drunk?” he asks.

“I’m jolly. Why?”

“Because I need to catch up. I’m too sober.”

“Oh? So we’re doing this tonight?”

“Definitely. You and I are gonna get shitfaced.”

“Well if that’s so. Shots. Tequila.”

“Like we did on our first party.”

“Exactly.”

It is Taehyung’s turn to DJ when you and Jungkook finally feel drunk enough to dance. You spent time outside with the others, having to admit your defeat which didn’t come as a surprise to them. Jimin and Yoongi joined about an hour in, looking dishevelled. Nobody dared to comment on their state in fear of Jimin dropping way too graphic details. Taehyung left an hour in to switch places with his boyfriend, while said boyfriend joined the dancing crowd first row.

“Wanna get another drink?” Jimin asks Yoongi.

“Sure, we can get another drink. Seokjin, wanna join?”

“Yes, I do actually.”

Hoseok and Namjoon are playing beer pong by the pool, which leaves you and Jungkook.

“You two wanna join?” Yoongi offers.

You and Jungkook communicate through a look.

“Actually, we wanna go dancing for a bit.”

“Fine with us. We’re in the kitchen.”

And so it happens that you and Jungkook go dancing. Jungkook leaves you for a little while to talk to Taehyung. He seems touchier than normally, which is a telltale sing that he was drunk. Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind, talking to him whenever he isn’t busy mixing.

You’re all alone on the dance floor, enjoying the music and the feeling of alcohol in your veins. Seriously, you aren’t someone who drinks a lot of booze, but man is it fun to be drunk on a party. Especially when you know that you can dance with Jungkook in the near future.

He taps you on the shoulder. You turn, instantly throwing your arms around him.

“Hey. Ew, sorry”, you startle, flinching away as an unknown man looks at you.

“Wow, I’m trying not to be hurt. You are the first girl who reacts with ew when she sees me.”

“Sorry. I thought that you were someone else. I just startled, that’s all. You’re not actually ew.”

“I’m not? Thank you. You’re very pretty yourself. I’m Frank and you are?”

“Oh. Oh, no sorry. I think you might have misunderstood something. I’m-”

“Hey, I’m back”, Jungkook thankfully saves the day (on purpose because he watched you from the DJ booth and instantly felt jealous). He puts his arm around your waist, giving Frank a very territorial and dark look.

“Your date?” the stranger asks.

“Husband. We’ve been married for years. We’re very happy”, Jungkook snarls.

“Sorry, my mistake then. You guys have fun”, the stranger is thankfully one of the good guys, leaving with a slightly bruised ego but no complaints.

Jungkook turns to you and nudges your cheek.

“Bad girl. Don’t be so cute.”

“What do you mean?”

“I watched you put your arms around him.”

“Okay but mister then you also saw that I instantly flinched back when I saw that it wasn’t your fine ass”, you snicker, poking him.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and you already have men falling over you. Stop being cute or I’ll have to hide you away in my pocket.”

“Okay, you’re just acting adorable now”, you snicker and put your arms around him, hooking them behind his head. “I can’t help it. I’m born cute. Thankfully, I’m married to someone as strong as you to keep me safe.”

He likes it, scrunching his nose.

“Yeah, that’s right. My wifey”, he says and slides his hands to your hips to hold them.

You begin dancing, looking into the other’s eyes as if the universe itself was in them. And in a sense it was. When you look at Jungkook, you can see your whole universe. When Jungkook looks at you, he can see his whole universe.

“Fuck, I love you. You know?”

“I love you too. Now look at these moves.”

Seconds later you are screaming in laughter as Jungkook gives you his best performance. He comes out of it a little out of breath, looking proud.

“And whatcha think?”

“Amazing, you were amazing.”

He grins, pointing at you.

“Your turn.”

“Watch this.”

Jungkook cheers you on, jumping and laughing on the spot as you give him your best performance.

People always say that it is impossible to actually find someone you can be a hundred percent yourself with. That there will always be parts which just don’t match and you will have to live with it. But these people have never experienced what you and Jungkook have. Nobody else matches your goofy freak as well as he does.

And as you and he have the most embarrassing yet free dance off, the world seems to glow all around you. The people around don’t matter. It is just you and him.

The night continues like this for a long time. You take a short break in the middle of it, going to the kitchen for more drinks and a round of beer pong with the others.

Then Namjoon wanted to go on a drunk beach walk to which Hoseok and Seokjin agreed. You and Jungkook returned back to the dance floor. Well, at least he did because you left for the kitchen first to get more shots.

Jungkook is talking to another woman when you come back. You jump into a full sprint instantly, reaching his side within seconds.

“I got our drinks”, you blurt out, shoving it into his hand.

“Thank you.”

“Is this your friend?” the stranger asks.

“Do we look like friends to you? That’s my husband and he is my pookie wookie and I’m his egg and you are not welcome here because we’re very happy.”

“Urgh fine, message received. Bye”, she says and leaves.

“You” you whip around to him.

“I didn’t do nothing. I swear”, he panics, squeaking when you poke him in the cheek.

“Stop being a cutie pie. I can’t leave you alone.”

He relaxes and snickers, “she approached me. I was trying to tell her that I’m married when you came running.”

“Next time I’m taking you with me. We need a leash for parties.”

“Yes please”, he begs, making puppy eyes. Truly you have the most loyal hubby ever.

And so the night continues. You and he get drunker and dance. Taehyung switched places with his boyfriend again when you and Jungkook officially can’t stay apart anymore.

Well, it is you who starts it. Jungkook is very lost in the music, dancing with his eyes closed and his arms up in the air. The position makes his crop top slip up constantly, exposing his toned stomach. It looks so pretty when he stretches.

Somewhere to your right, Jimin and Yoongi are dancing as well. Well, Yoongi is barely moving while Jimin is grinding on him. Sometimes he playfully slaps his butt which makes Jimin laugh and snuggle closer for a kiss. Which in return makes Yoongi smile and kiss him hungrily. They seem very happy doing what they’re doing.

But you can only look at Jungkook and how freely he dances. His smile. This goddamn smile. It’s so beautiful. The lights hue his body into such beautiful colours. Seeing his stomach flex and relax and the body chains swing just does something to you. The song switches. Jungkook yelps and looks at you.

“I love this song! Fuck, I feel so good”, he laughs, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as the music moves his body again. His smile is even brighter than before, captivating you.

You can’t do this anymore. You are so insanely attracted to him.

You grip his waist and tug him to you. Jungkook lets you, running his eyes up and down your face playfully. He hooks his arms behind your head, swaying his hips to the music because he thinks that you wanted to dance with him. His arms rest on your shoulders like this. He is still smiling. Your attraction to him is unbearable.

You tell him to lean down, which he does.

“You’d also feel good if you were inside me”, you rasp, forcing his knees to buckle and his eyes to go droopy at the same time.

“Holy fuck, baby”, he chokes out and melts closer.

“Mhm I mean it.”

You squeeze his dainty waist, tilting your head so your noses touch.

“Don’t say that. Please. Not here”, he begs.

“I can’t help it. You’re so fucking cute. And sexy”, you say, running your hands along his oiled up sides.

Jungkook tenses and shudders, knees buckling and face dropping to the side of your head. His lips brush your ear, letting you hear the very soft moan your touch elicits.

So you do it again. His waist is dainty enough that you can dance your fingers along his sides and trace his ab-lines with your thumbs at the same time. His tummy is sensitive, which means that he gets very shivery from it.

He even has to reach down and stop your hands from further wandering.

“Please, it’s unfair of you.”

You step closer, letting your lips brush his ear.

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

Jungkook’s head shoots up, his eyes are widened. The music changes to a louder song, making his words silent to you but you know for a fact that he currently exclaims “are you serious?”

You nod your head, squeezing his hands. You mouth back a “are you down?” which you know for a fact is useless because Jungkook sucks at reading lips.

He leans closer, “whatever you just said, I agree with you”, he says against your ear, following it with a needy little sound.

“Then come on.” You say and pull him away from the dance floor. Jungkook follows like a love drunk puppy, only having eyes for you.

You and he manage as far as the kitchen and then Jungkook can’t take it anymore. He grips your face to pull you into a kiss.

“Nuh-uh what are you doing?” you stop him with a finger on his lips. He is but your finger’s width away, looking at you with desperate neediness in his eyes.

“Don’t do this to me”, he croaks, sliding his hands to the back of your neck. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I didn’t give you permission, did I?”

“Baby, please. Can I kiss you?” he is pleading. It’s a panicky reaction, his sad puppy eyes are indicator enough.

“I’m not sure”, you say and slide your finger away.

Jungkook chases you instantly, moaning softly. You move away, make him chase you, deny him the kiss.

Jungkook grips your hip and cups your cheek. The inner corners of his brows lift in a beg.

“Let me kiss you. Please.”

You smile. It’s driving him insane that you are. Your fingers on his chest are doing the rest. His heart is pounding, his skin is so overly sensitive that he swears he can feel your touch through his shirt. He is starved. It’s scrambling his brain not to taste your kiss.

“Please just one kiss.”

You shake your head, moving closer just to deny him again.

“Too many people.”

“Then let's go somewhere else”, he says and takes your hand to pull you away from the crowd. He seems to go straight for the stairs, which are off limits to the guests.

“Wait. What are you doing? Where are we going?”

“Somewhere nobody can disturb us”, he says and leads you upstairs. No guests are allowed upstairs, but you both know that you are an exception.

“But the party’s downstairs. We’re not supposed to be here.”

“I don't care. I need to kiss you.” He twirls on the highest step, walking with his back facing the path. His hands are on your hips, leading you with him. He is giggling, face scrunched in the prettiest smile. “We’re little criminals right now”, he gushes and twirls you.

“Oh god, this is very fast”, you laugh, letting him twirl you as you and he sneak down the forbidden corridor.

There is a wall close to you. Something inside him snaps. Your laugh is the reason for it. Jungkook lifts you so he can press you against the wall. He drops you in front of it, taking your wrists to pin them above your head. He is using one hand for it, using the other to touch your waist.

Like this you are caged in and completely at his mercy, moaning softly because you expected anything but this. You look at him with wobbly knees, finding it hard to breathe.

“But you’re my criminal. Gotcha”, he purrs, following it with a sweet giggle. He is truly the most adorable yet sexy person to ever exist.

“Kook, fuck…”

“Do you wanna find out what happens to criminals when I catch them?” he coos, tugging your wrists further up the wall. He tightens his grip, lowering his head at the same time. All you can see is him. His big arms, his oiled up chest, the silver chains, his playful gaze and styled hair. All you can see is him and the lips you ache to kiss.

“Yeah”, you breathe.

“Too bad I’m not gonna show you. Yet”, he says and lowers your wrists. He still keeps a hold on them, using his grip to tug you with him.

“Wow, I see what you did there”, you grumble, making him giggle and skip along the way.

You follow happily, walking a little wobbly because he just completely ruined you with his show of strength. It’s what you get when you tease him and he pins you against a wall. It’s so hot when he does that.

“I just had to”, he says and opens Taehyung’s room, “in here. Now”, he growls the last word playfully, snickering instantly as he slaps your butt.

Jungkook is a very giggly drunk. Which is the most endearing thing ever because he is so cute when he giggles and snickers his way through life.

You enter the room happily. Jungkook closes the door and locks it. He flips the lights on, looking at you instantly.

Taehyung’s bedroom is reached by three steps and separated into two spacious areas. A living area closer to the door and the sleeping area down the stairs. You are below the steps, Jungkook is still on top of them, looking down at you with starving eyes.

“Now we’re alone”, he says, lowering his eyes dangerously.

Holy fuck, you need him to act soon or else you will pass away.

“Don’t be scared, I’ll be gentle”, he rasps and follows it up with a giggle.

“Fucking hell you drive me insane. Come down here and let me kiss you”, you get out, reaching for him needily. You grab his waist and tug.

Jungkook stumbles down the two steps and falls into the kiss with a needy moan. He cradles your face and kisses you as if he had never kissed you before. Deeply. Passionately. For a long time. Wrongs become rights again, pains become comforts and time passes just a little slower. He is kissing you and it feels so good.

Like this, you pull him closer and closer to the bed until your knees hit the edge of it and you fall. Jungkook doesn’t let you fall harshly, cushioning your head with his hand.

“You’re okay?” he checks on you.

“I’m okay. You?”

“Okay.”

The kiss deepens. Your hands are on his waist again, feeling it up. You are obsessed with it. Actually obsessed. Jungkook is halfway on top your lap, sitting on one of your legs so his knee was right against your pussy.

This is your personal heaven. The pleasure is instant. You moan and grind on him within the first touch. It’s almost an instinct to use his muscular thigh to get off. You’ve done it a million times before and tonight you need it to survive. There is so much painful pressure between your legs, your clit might actually burst and your pussy feels so empty. You need to find relief. Please any kind of relief. You don’t even mind that the position is slightly uncomfortable, that you have to bend and stretch your back so you could reach him. All you take in is the instant relief his thigh gives you.

“What are you doing?” he breaks the kiss breathlessly.

“Kiss me, fucking kiss me”, you rasps and pull him back. You keep one hand on the nape of his neck while the other digs deep into his waist possessively.

“Oh my god”, he is mewling between kisses, “you…humping…my thigh. Oh my…god.”

He digs his fingers into the softness of your hip, pulling you against his hard thigh. He moves closer for it.

Your legs shake, you try to find your sanity but he is keeping your body pinned with just his addictive presence.

“Feels good? Baby…you…like?” he asks and grips the nape of your neck. His thumb still reaches your face, caressing your cheek most tenderly. It is a reminder how much he treasures you. That his heart beats only for you.

“Like it so much.”

He lifts his leg higher, keeping the intense pressure going. You are so needy that he might actually make you cum like this. In your panties, after mere seconds. The revelation makes you grind down even harder.

Jungkook was so occupied with mewling and being in disbelief about his luck that he didn’t even realise that the rough movements of his leg were too much for you until you suddenly moan his name and sink into yourself in the distinct way you always do when he is throwing you over the edge.

The kiss breaks because you need to fight for air as your body shakes.

“Holy fuck, are you having an orgasm right now?” he gasps, but you can only whimper and shake on his leg. It is very faint, but he can feel the orgasmic throbbing of your pussy against his thigh.

He grips your waist with both hands and growls.

“You are. Fuck, you are. Holy fuck, this is so hot. You’re actually cumming too soon. Holy fuck”, he babbles and helps you ride it out until you begin writhing in overstimulation.

Clarity comes back to you. The jeans against your pussy hurts. The pressure is uncomfortable. You just lost control. He manhandled you so good that he made you cum.

The realisation sends burning heat to your cheeks, you try to writhe away instantly.

“Hurts, ahm, please.”

“Holy fuck, I’m actually gonna fucking ruin you. You actually came too soon. Oh my fucking god, that only happens to me normally”, he is still babbling, now pushing you further onto bed until you can’t help but shimmy to where he wants you. Nestled into Taehyung’s pillows.

He is on top of you instantly, caging you in between the thing which seconds ago made you lose control. His thighs. He takes your wrists and pins them above your head. His tangling chains swing with each movement.

“How does it feel, mhm? How does it feel knowing that I’ve got so much power over you that I can make you cum too soon, mhm?” he taunts, breathing heavily. You didn’t think that this would affect him as much as it does, but you aren’t complaining. His competitiveness is so adorable.

“I could still make you cum faster.”

“No, you couldn’t. That was barely even a minute”, he is squeaking and giggling.

“Liar. Unless we’re talking about you, then it’s correct.”

“Shut up, oh my god”, he whines, “you’re so fucking mean. It’s not my fault, okay? I spoke to the doctor and he said I have sensitive peepee syndrome okay?”

He makes you belt a laugh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so stupid. What the fuck, just kiss me again, you idiot.”

Jungkook goes into the kiss, smiling and grinning, moaning needily as you run your hands over his body. His heart might jump out of his chest if this keeps going. He feels so alive. So goddamn alive.

You feel the same. Including such burning need for him that it gets difficult to function. It isn’t long that you break the kiss again

“Koo take it off”, you writhe, “take it off please, hurts. It hurts.”

“Yeah that’s awful isn’t it? Cumming in your panties. I bet your clit’s so fucking big and swollen right now. Just begging to be sucked and licked.”

Your clit throbs. Your panties feel even tighter.

“You’re awful”, you croak, “how do you go from being an idiot who says shit like sensitive peepee syndrome to someone who says the hottest stuff?”

“Why? Does it make you needy?” he coos and pecks your lips.

“Please, you proved your point. I’m sorry I teased you.”

He smirks, “yeah, you shouldn’t have”, he purrs and takes your face between two of his fingers, “say it again.”

“What?”

“Sorry. Say it.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“Teasing you so much.”

“Mhm”, he hums, letting go of your face and swiping his thumb over your lips, “I shouldn’t be so obsessed with hearing you say sorry, but I am.”

“I need to have you, please Koo be inside me.”

“I will. I fucking will, just let me get out of this.” He climbs off bed to step out of his pants and briefs. No shoes because Taeseok have a no shoes policy at their place.

He takes off his crop top, finally exposing what he hid beneath. The oil makes his tattoos stick out so well. He also exchanged his barbell nipple piercings for silver nipple shields in heart shapes. White gemstones are glued on the hearts.

His cock is already hard, which means that he is really horny right now. Normally, he takes a little longer to get there when he is drunk, but tonight he seems ready to burst.

He is so sexy.

“You literally drive me insane”, you say and sit up, “come closer.”

He obeys, moaning and giggling as you hold his waist to pull him in for kisses on his tummy.

“Tickles”, he sighs and rolls his head back, “ah, sensitive…”

You purr and wrap your lips around the tip of his dick.

Jungkook’s knees buckle, he grips the back of your head and moans. His pretty cock throbs on your tongue, giving you a taste of his excitement. It’s a little bitter tonight because of the alcohol. You don’t really mind because he is so yummy to you.

You give his cock a very harsh suck then slip off to kiss path back to his tummy. You get on your knees on bed, kissing every inch of his torso until you reach his nipples. You have your hand around his cock, jerking it sensually.

“Absolutely insane what you are doing to me”, you lull and suck his pierced nipples one by one.

Jungkook mewls, arching his back. His cock throbs in your hand.

“I feel dizzy”, he confesses, “please can I lie down?”

“Sorry, I’m already done.” You straighten up, holding his waist as you stare deep unto his foggy eyes.

He pouts, cheeks flushed, “why’d you touch me like this?”

“Because I can.”

“Oh god, you’re so mean”, he whines.

You chuckle, “mhm maybe. Keep the chains on, I beg.”

“Okay, yes.”

“Good boy. Now, my turn.”

You get off bed, taking off your dress and underwear. You keep the jewellery on.

“Oh my god, you are beautiful”, he gasps.

So here you and he are. Bared, naked and vulnerable in the bedroom of another. It was kind of useless to get completely naked, you could have done what needed to be done with your panties pushed aside, but you are too drunk on tonight to think rationally. It’s just you and him. And you and he want to connect how nature intended it. How your souls feel when you are together. Naked, raw and fucking exposed.

“Koo.”

He answers you with your nickname and closes the distance. Your naked bodies connect, seconds later you are back on bed and he is on top of you.

The kissing continues, more intense than it was all night. Because you and he are finally naked, skin against skin. Each touch feels a million times more intense. Each inch feels so much more interesting to explore. You and he can’t stop touching each other, grinding on the other as if it was your destiny.

He is also a giggly drunk, however, meaning that he breaks the kiss way too soon for your taste. He grins at you.

“Now I finally got my kiss.”

“Wow, okay.”

“Yeah”, his smile grows into blinding magnitude, “didn’t even realise that this was my goal all along, did you?”

“No”, you play along and roll your eyes fondly. You love his antics.

“It was”, he giggles and smiles, kissing you as he does, “I told you that I’ll show you what it gets you when you tease me.”

“God Koo”, you let out and reach for him, “god.”

“I’m not done with you though. Hear me? We’re not done yet”, he purrs and adds in a sweet voice, “okay?”

“Yeah please”, you beg, dragging him back into a sloppy kiss.

Jungkook purrs, melting closer. He can’t escape it anymore. This magnetic pull between you and him. He needs to chase it or he will go insane.

“I love this. Oh god, yes”, he babbles, kissing a path to your neck and further down to your breasts. He is so noisy, licking and sucking your chest hungrily. Jungkook mewls as he kisses down your tummy, drooling in anticipation of your pussy. You know exactly what the end goal of this journey will be and it would be fucking amazing to have him eat you out. It really would be. But you are impatient and need his cock inside.

“Koo wait”, you stop him with a gentle tug on his hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“I know you wanna be a good boy and make me wet, but I’m already dripping. Just get up here and be inside me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, fucking hell, really.”

“Oh god, I can’t wait. I want you so bad.”

He climbs between your legs, resting on his elbows and falling into a messy kiss. He smoothes over the top of your head as his tongue dances with yours.

Your legs wrap around his waist, your hips lift in search for him. You can’t be without him any longer, aching.

Jungkook seems to feel the same, feeding you his needy moan just as he sinks his aching cock into you.

You and he shudder, sobbing drunkenly as you hug and grip the other. Reconnecting is everything which matters. This is it. The moment tonight was for.

“I’m all in”, Jungkook is panting his words, voice shaky in both emotion and pleasure, “tell me what you like. Talk me through it.”

“Deep and rough, please Koo.”

“Like this?” he starts off gentle, gazing at your face drunkenly. He pets your head, wanting to soothe you.

“Harder.”

“Like this?”

He is still so gentle with you. Which is cute and it’s so sweet that he tries to be careful, but you can’t do careful tonight. Not when you literally need him to live inside your veins from now on.

You cradle his cheeks, squishing them together until his lips stick out in a pout.

“Listen, pookie. I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

“But I don’t hate you, I love you.”

“Then fuck me like you love me and want me screaming your name.”

“Okay”, he whimpers.

“Good. Do it.”

He straightens up and lifts your legs to put them against his arms. He folds you in half, with your knees sitting against his arms and your legs in the air. Like this, you are completely exposed to him, able to take his perfect cock.

He picks up a sloppy rhythm, moaning loudly when this makes you yelp up on pleasure.

“Is this it? Do I fuck you how you need it?”

“You’re so good. Ah! Koo! Kookoo aha!”

“I feel fucking alive. Holy shit, just wanna fuck you right all day all week. Shit, I’m going insane.”

Another reason why Jungkook is the one for you and why you think that matching each other’s freak is an actual thing, is how vocal he gets during sex. So much of the pleasure he gives you is from the way he just constantly talks to you. He can be so filthy, so dirty and yet he can also be so loving and gentle. The underlying message however is always how he is devoted to you with his entire being.

“Feels…so….good”, you moan, legs twitching and shaking on his arms. Nothing beats the feeling of him. Especially when he finally shows you what those hips can do. He is honestly so good in using them.

“Yeah, so good. You make me feel invincible, holy fuck.”

He is strong in how he fucks into you, making each thrust count. Because they should. He gets to be with you each time he is inside, this should count something. This should create something wonderful. And in your case, it is pleasure so good nothing could ever recreate it.

“You, you just keep shaking like this. Your pussy’s heaven, baby. Can barely breathe. You get me so good, baby.”

“Closer please.”

He listens to your begs. His body chains, once tangling without a purpose, begin slapping against your clit.

“Jungkook”, you wail, arching your back.

“Too much?”

“No! Keep going please. Your chains! Ah!”

“My chains?” He looks down and moans, hips buckling. “No way, this is so sexy. Holy fuck, I can’t. Baby, ___ baby.”

His hips pick up speed, his drunk moans join yours. And if he isn’t moaning, he is talking. He is such a sexy drunk fuck. Maybe this is why you love getting shitfaced with him. Because you know how much of a yapper Jungkook becomes when he is drunk. And horny yapper Jungkook means you get his unfiltered thoughts constantly.

“Love fucking you so deep, babygirl.”

“Yeah, you’re moaning so sweet. Makes me fucking wild.”

“I’m made to fuck you, that’s what I was made for.”

“Can’t believe this is happening. I’m so lucky.”

“I’m yours, baby, I’m yours.”

It is constant and it is so honest. They’re your biggest turn on. Mixed with his cock loving your sensitive insides and his body chains slapping your clit and you are a goner.

“Koo, I’m cumming.”

“Don't hold back. cum for me, baby.” He encourages you and takes your clit between his fingers to rub her. His chains still slap against you, adding electric intensity to your high. “Does this help?”

You wail, clawing at the sheets and writhing helplessly. This is your answer. Or course it fucking helps.

“Yes babygirl, cum for me. Shit, my cock’s at home with you. That’s it, let me feel you lose it. Give me everything.”

“Please slow please we’re not at home.”

He knows what you are insinuating, pinching your clit because he is awful.

“Please Koo, I need to squirt. Don’t make me do this.”

“Just say the words and I’ll slow down.”

“Slow, please slow.”

“Good girl, using your words so well”, he praises and drops to his elbows. Your legs are around his thighs, shaking as he fucks into you messily. His body chains tickle your chest like this.

He shudders, eyes clouding over in ecstasy. It feels so good the way you grip him for support.

“Can you still go?” he asks.

“Yeah”, you mewl, fingers grasping the back of his body chains.

“I’m gonna cum like this. Can I cum inside?”

“Yes, please do. Koo oh god, Koo”, you beg, twisting the chains for support.

“I love cumming inside”, he whimpers, kissing you seconds later. Quite frankly, he licks into your mouth more than he kisses you, giving you the squeakiest and neediest moans ever.

You bury your hand deep in his hair, clenching down on him to make it feel good for him.

“___”, Jungkook mewls.

“Is this good for you? Am I making it nice?”

“Nice, so nice. I really have to cum.”

“Then do it. Fill me, baby.”

“Play with my nipples, please.”

You fulfill his wish, instantly sending him to nirvana. He squeaks your name, trying to kiss you as his orgasm shakes his body. You kiss him back, trembling from getting all of him. This is everything.

“I love you”, he manages to get out because at the end of the day, this is what he does. He fucks you as hard as he does, gets naked with you, dresses up and goes out because he loves you.

“I love you too.”

“Oh god, it feels so good. You feel so good. I can’t stop cumming, oh god”, he sobs and shakes, holding you close for support. Your fingers on his nipples really ruin him.

“I’m here, baby. Just let it all out, I can take it.”

Jungkook mewls, giving you seven more sloppy thrusts before he finally drops. Just like he always does after a very intense high, he seeks your closeness. He whimpers and sobs quietly, trying to kiss your entire face at the same time. All while his cock throbs inside you slowly.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you too. I love you too. I love you too”, you answer his emotional babbling each and every time, You just really love this man so very deeply.

Every side of him. The rough, dominant side when he is really horny. And the sappy, cuddly side when he comes down. You just love him so much.

“I can’t believe you just let me hit, I can’t believe it.”

You snicker, “why shouldn’t I let you hit, you stupid egg? You’re my hubby.”

“I just. I can’t believe it. I’m so lucky. And I fucking missed you so bad”, he gushes and kisses you.

Oh so deeply and with so much emotion. Jungkook breaks the kiss with a suck on your lower lip. He smiles at you, caressing your heated cheeks.

“This was amazing. I can’t believe it. I feel amazing and wow. Just wow”, he babbles, making you giggle because he is so cute.

“Yeah, right.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. Really fucking good.”

“Yeah right. Phew, this was amazing”, he says and guides his kisses to your jawline, “you were amazing. I’m so happy. I can’t stop giggling. Wow, I feel so good. I’ve seriously got the best wifey ever.”

He makes you melt. He knows exactly how to treat you after being so rough with you. His aftercare is the reason why you never feel disgusting or used even after the hardest of fucks. He fucks you that hard because he loves you. The reminder will always heal you.

“You’re so sweet.”

“Was it okay what I did?”

“It was more than okay. It was perfect. I loved every moment of it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You were amazing.”

“Oh god, I love you.

“I love you too, Koo.”

Your eyes meet. The weight of your situation finally sinks in as you and he lie here in silence, while downstairs the music is hammering against the ceiling.

“So uhm, how are we gonna bring the news to Tae that we fucked in his room?” you ask.

“Maybe we don’t have to. Maybe we can just clean up really well and then leave again without saying anything.”

“Yeah right, as if this will work.”

“We could just blame Yoongi and Jimin.”

You squint your eyes at him for a second. He wiggles his brows.

“No. No, do not tempt me with your evil ideas. We can’t betray them like this.”

“Ugh fine, I’ll tell him.”

Silence. You and he exchange another look, thinking the same thing.

“Only if he notices.”

“Definitely only if he notices.”

“Yep, it’s a good plan.”

“A totally good plan.”

216 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 hours ago

Text

Captain's Orders 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: I am still dizzy her and there but feeling a bit better.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wouldn’t call it doom scrolling. That’s not what this is. You try not to search out the depressing headlines or the studies of the human character assuring you of your race’s inherent flaws. Yet, all those boastful posts about engagements, weddings, and promotions still make you feel crummy.

Jealous? Sure. You don’t have any of those things and it isn’t as if you can hope for as much, either. You’re in a dead-end job, living in cramped apartment with your sister and her irresponsible friend, and your romantic life is next to non-existent; not that you’ve been looking. None of that is meant for you, otherwise, you’d have had some glimmer of interest by now.

It’s like quicksand. Not very quick but it pulls you down lower and lower. Sinking and sinking until all you can see is the muck. There’s no way out now, you’re waist deep in it.

You click under your favourite communities and start a new post. You don’t make many. Mostly you read and judge silently. You’re a lurker. Like in many facets of your life. You watch, you don’t do. But you’ve had a shitty day and you need to just let it out.

Your fingers move as your thoughts boil in your head; your nagging manager, your lazy landlord, and your immature roommates. Nothing ever goes your way. Everyone else has it figured out and you’re just left to rot. You try! You do. Resumes, profiles on friendship apps, online courses; free, of course, it’s all you can afford, but you do try to improve yourself. It just doesn’t work.

You hit ‘post’ and close the lid of your ancient laptop. It’s as thick as a book. The battery doesn’t hold a charge and the fan is as loud as a jet. You fall back onto your bed and look around your tiny room. That’s all you have. This space is as much as you can call your own and not really. You rent it, it can be taken away with one of those red stamped notices.

You yawn and drag yourself up. A whole shift and you didn’t bother to have more than the bland break room coffee spewed from the off-brand pod machine and a couple sticks of gum. Tia got herself sushi before her shift but she can just ask her parents to send her money to cover her Door Dash addiction.

You plod out to the kitchen. Your sister closes the fridge and cracks the tab of a beer can. You’re sure it isn’t her first.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Shea bobbles her head.

Funny since Donna pretty much hollered at you for interrupting her TV show. You all pitched in on the flat screen yet it’s never your turn with it. You shrug and go to the cupboard. It’s not sushi but the spicy shrimp ramen isn’t too bad...

“You work?” You ask.

“Pfft, no. Didn’t I say I was going to lunch with Mason?”

“Did you?” You take down at bowl. She probably did. You never remember. She’s always got a date or a party or a fall back. If she can’t make rent, she’ll smile a cute guy and get some money.

“He bought me some shoes! You’ll never believe.”

“Right,” you try not to seethe.

You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re eating sodium-laced noodles and holding back tears against old people wanting to print out their life story from a corrupt PDF. She’s pretty. She doesn’t have to try. Shea is all the proof you need that some people are just lucky.

You put the electric kettle onto boil and the smell of burnt—something makes your lip curl. You pop the lid and look inside. It’s brown. What the hell?

“What’s wrong with this?” You ask as you flip off the switch.

“Donna!” Shea yells, “what did you do to the kettle?” No answer. Your sister hollers again.

A door swings open and Donna stomps out with a huff. Her face is green as she has a mask spread over it and eye masks pasted beneath her lashes.

“I’m getting ready--”

“The kettle stinks,” you reach for a pot and find none. They’re all stacked and waiting to be washed. You snatch one off the top and flip on the faucet.

“Oh, I heated up some bone broth in it. I’m doing a cleanse,” she smirks. “Tasted kinda weird.”

“Bone broth?” You scoff. See. You try, they can’t even clean dishes. “Great.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, just rinse it out,” Shea says.

You scrub the pan and ignore her. You glance up as she slurps noisily from the can. Pre-drinks. Her and Donna are going out. Again. They can afford to because they don’t buy their own drinks. They don’t need to. You went out with them once and paid for all of your own, even though you’d have been happy enough with a single round.

“Have fun,” you dry out the pan and slam it on the burner.

“Jeez, maybe you should loosen up?” Donna chides.

“Yeah, come with us. Dance it out,” Shea drawls.

“No thanks,” you twist the knob and light the burner. “I have work tomorrow.”

“Call innnnn,” Shea insists.

“I can’t,” you sniff and step back to wait for the water to boil.

“Boring,” she chirps.

“Yep, I am,” you cross your arms. Your annoyed. When the go out, you’ll have to clean up this mess. You can’t handle another bout of fruit flies.

You put the noodles in and let them soften. You stir in the oil and powder then retreat to your room with the bowl of boiling cholesterol. You let it cool and put a video on your phone. You don’t want to think.

You eat deliberately. You savour the processed flavouring. You can’t go out sneak a midnight snack; Donna ate all your cookies. You label all your stuff in thick marker and she apparently can’t read.

You hear them leave. They’re loud. They leave the television on. At high volume.

You go out and shut it off. You need to sleep soon. Opening always comes after a late shift. Otherwise, how else would the corporation keep you disempowered.

You open your laptop. You’ll but on some lo-fi while you charge your phone. Heck, the fan is like white noise on its own.

The little red number at the bottom of the page stops you. You left the browser open. Someone actually responded to your post. You click and your stomach drops as you read the first sentence.

‘Sounds like you cause a lot of your own problems. Maybe try some mindful exercises and get out more. You should also consider making some friends.’

You read it over and over. You’re angry. Hurt, too. But most that first thing. You can’t stop from replying.

‘You got all that from me venting? I wasn’t asking for advice. I walk to and from work and I have friends.’

It’s mostly true. You do walk. Most days. And your sister is a friend, isn’t she? By association, so is Donna.

Before you can look up your favourite twelve-hour lo-fi, another notification pops up.

‘Looking at your post history, your diet could use some improvements. More veggies. And walking is a good starting point but you need to increase your endorphins. I’d be happy to send you some helpful guides. They’re easily searchable on the internet. We live in the age of information, you should consider taking advantage of that.’

Wow, what an asshole. He’s smug and obviously better than you. You click on his username and scroll through. Just as you expect. He posts in fitness communities. Not any videos of him but sharing tutorials and recipes for high-protein smoothies and fibre-laced juices. He wouldn’t know flavour if it puked in his mouth.

You his ‘esc’ and go back to your own post; ‘thanks for the advice. Have a good one.;

That’s it. You’re not arguing with some faceless douche on the internet. His response is as quick as the first.

‘A helpful link.’ He hyperlinks the words. ‘You should at least stretch in the morning and go outside on your breaks at work. You might work long shifts but it’s no excuse to be lazy. If you’ve been in that role for so long, you should have more than enough references to move on to something that doesn’t make you miserable.’

You don’t answer. You know if you do, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Judging by the few pics of his real life and his cadence, he’s got everything. He just thinks it’s a matter of mindset. There can’t possibly be anything else which could make things more difficult for people. You just don’t work hard enough. Duh, everyone always says so.

You close out of the page. If he replies again, you’ll block him. Simple as. You put on a lo-fi track and dim the screen. You roll over and tuck into bed. You fall asleep in a ball of stress; you have to wake up, shower, do all that human stuff, then make yourself face another eight hours of hell.

⭐

“I hate working at the fucking copy desk,” you hiss as you take your bag from the cubby in the break room. “Good luck.”

Darcy gives you a look as she sits at one of the tables, waiting for her shift to start. You grit your teeth as you should your purse and grip your jacket tight. You punch your employee number into the clock then head out.

As you march down the aisle of toner, a customer tries to stop you. “I’m off duty.”

“But I need a keyboard.”

You ignore them and keep going.

“I’m going to tell a manager, young lady!”

You don’t care. Besides, why are they looking for a keyboard in the toner aisle. The signs above with the giant letters clearly show that the computer accessories are in the opposite corner.

People are stupid. They might be able to read, technically, but they definitely lack comprehension. Just like Donna who can’t keep her hands off your snacks.

You walk home in a simmer. If you let your temper get away from you, you won’t be able to hold back when you walk into the inevitable shit show waiting for you at home. Shea and Donna hungover, probably having got into more of your sparse groceries, and amidst a brand new mess for you to tidy. You won’t not this time.

You have a mission. Go to your room and don’t come out.

As you enter your building, you find the elevator non-responsive. A tiny post-it is stuck to the doors. ‘Out of Order’. Couldn’t have made something a bit more legible?

You take the stairs. The hallway smells like onion and dirty clothes. You take out your keys as you get to your door, ignoring the rabble coming from the apartment next to yours. Before you can get your key in the slot, the door opens.

“Heyyyy, she’s back,” Shea greets. You blink at her in confusion. Is she already drunk again?

“Starting already?” You ask as you try to get past her.

“Hm, no,” she says tritely, “you have a guest.”

You roll your eyes, “don’t be a bitch, alright?”

“No, really,” she grins. You stop and look her up and down. She isn’t falling apart like usual after a Friday night. Her hair is done, her makeup too, and she’s not in her sweats.

“Is it mom?” You whisper.

She snorts, “you’re stupid. No, it’s your friend. Steve.” She backs up with a shimmy, “I think some people call him Captain.”

You make a face. What?

“Who...”

“Ahem,” a figure appears by the corner of the kitchen counter, “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

You crane to see over Shea’s shoulder. The man behind her is tall. And familiar. Steve Rogers. Your expression contorts as your lashes flutter in confusion.

“Not at all, Stevie,” Shea spins, “I’ll give you two the room. So nice to meet you.”

She squeezes by him and touches his forearm as she does. He doesn’t react. She giggles and flits off. Her door shuts but you can tell that the latch didn’t catch. She’s listening.

“Should we go outside? Get some sun?” He asks.

You glance at him again. You’re lost.

“Do I know you?” You grimace.

“After all day under fluorescent, you should really get out--”

“I-- I’m sorry, can you slow down and explain--”

“Outside. Privately,” he says.

You peek past him then look into the hallway behind you. You search your mind for an explanation. The only place you know him from is the internet or a history book.

“Like I said before, going outside can really help with mood issues.”

You hesitate and your mouth falls open. It can’t be...

“Was that you? Last night?” You shake your head.

“How about I buy you a smoothie?” He offers.

You snap your mouth shut. He can’t be serious. This can’t be real.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #captain's orders #captain america #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #avengers

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petermorwood · 8 hours ago

Text

Once there was a bookshop.

Its name was "Dark They Were And Golden Eyed", the title of a Ray Bradbury short story.

I'd seen it advertised in the back of my "Conan The Barbarian" comics, black-and-white UK reprints of the US originals which came out on the same day - Thursday, I think - as a two-hour first period history lesson (9AM-11AM).

So I bought my weekly Conan on the way to school as a pleasant back-of-the-class distraction from such A-Level delights as "Metternich and the Congress of Vienna" or "Bismarck and the origins of the Franco-Prussian War" or "Causes and Consequences of the French Revolution".

I was getting into fantasy at that time because British publishers were bringing it out like there was no tomorrow - Robert E. Howard "Conan" stories from Sphere, Clark Ashton Smith "Zothique" stories from Panther, and the Michael Moorcock book-of-the-month club from Mayflower.

Dark They Were was a sort of holy grail, because London wasn’t exactly round the corner or even a mere long train ride away as Dublin might have been, and my parents weren't willing to let me make a trip like that all alone. (I also suspect Dad had checked a map and found that Dark They Were was in the heart of Soho, a place with Other Kinds Of Bookshop.)

*****

I finally went to London after getting A-levels good enough for Uni, despite my History result not being what it might have been (no idea how that happened). :-P

Dad was right about the Other Kinds Of Bookshop, a couple of which I duly investigated and found to be educational, although not in the way intended. Even though the places I ate and drank and the books and records I bought on that same trip are long forgotten, I can still remember it.

Despite having at least my usual allowance of critical-faculty-blunting late teen hormones, the shops outweighed it with their air of furtive sleaze, like the carpet in a seedy bar that sticks to your shoes - except this was an all-body experience. They certainly filled me with desire, but that desire was for a long, hot shower.

So much for the main attraction of late-'70s Soho...

*****

Far more attractive was my discovery, just a short walk round the corner from DTW, of 58 Dean Street Records, which specialised in soundtrack albums.

I'd been buying soundtrack LPs for years, so what with DTW and 58, I was well laden on my way home, and none of those purchases needed hidden from the parents, either... :->

Despite that, Forever People in Bristol was an even more important SF bookshop, at least to me. For one thing it was easier to reach, less than an hour away when visiting an old school friend who at that time lived in Cardiff.

For another thing, I'd become a keen fan of fantasy anthologies, which were like samplers or tasting menus for different writers - you could call them selection boxes,and Irish / UK readers will know what I mean by that.

FP was where I found imports like Offutt's "Swords Against Darkness" series and DAW's "Year's Best Fantasy" series. I'd already got the first two in Carter's "Flashing Swords" series as UK imprints...

...so the instant I saw the US-import Number 5 I nabbed it.

A bit later, back in Belfast, I found a novel by one of those writers in Queen’s University Bookshop.

It was set in the same world as the short story and though the cover was, er, a less than accurate summation of the contents, those contents made for a fascinating read.

I met that writer twice, at SF conventions in 1985.

Then at a couple more in 1986.

After that came Boskone in 1987...

And the rest is history.

(Pedantic writer note: this has two typos. There's no apostrophe on Authors' - unless it's short for Authors Have A Wedding and I doubt that - and there's an extra O where I don't need it, a first but far from last instance of having my name misspelled in print...)

Happy soon-to-be-38th Anniversary, loved!

#anecdotage #anniversary #anthologies #science fiction bookshops #serendipity #Diane Duane #wedding anniversary

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hottiesforhockey · 2 days ago

Text

the big oopsie ⎜a.matthews + m.knies

pairings: auston matthews x afab!reader ⎜ matthew knies x afab!reader ⎜ genre: romance ⎜accidental pregnancy ⎜heavy angst ⎜ please read trigger warnings if you have any triggers relating to pregnancy ⎜ warnings: accidental pregnancy ⎜auston is much stressed ⎜ lots of crying ⎜ heavy making out ⎜dry humping? ⎜ descriptions of miscarriage ⎜ fighting ⎜ matthew knies is here to save the day ⎜ mentions of protection breaking ⎜ mentions of abortion ⎜ synopsis: two little red lines is all it takes to make your situation-ship a little more complicated. word count: 10.8k authors note: I had some requests for some auston matthews so I hope this suffices - it doesn't really have any smut and is honestly mainly just sad. sorry.

(unedited)

“This isn’t supposed to happen.” You whisper to yourself as you sit on the closed lid of your toilet, staring down at the plastic stick in your hand. You shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be in this situation, shouldn’t feel like your entire world has just been flipped upside down over two little red lines staring back at you.

But here you are.

The world doesn’t stop turning just because you want it to, and the pregnancy test in your hand isn’t going to change no matter how long you sit here, willing it to be something different. You swallow hard, your throat dry as the realisation settles deep in your bones.

You’re pregnant.

And there’s only one person who could be the father.

Auston.

Your stomach churns at the thought, not because the idea of him being the father is unbearable, but because you have no idea how he’s going to react. Auston has always been closed off, even with you. Even in the quiet moments after sex when most people would find themselves wrapped in lazy conversation, he’s always kept a part of himself locked away. Not to say he didn’t take care of you, but there was always something that you knew he kept locked up in that head of his. You knew what this was when you started it—no strings, no emotions, just an arrangement between two people who found comfort in each other’s bodies.

But here you are.

You let out a shaky breath as you slide off the closed toilet to brace against the cold tiles of your bathroom floor, pulling your knees up to your chest as you press your cheek into your pants, glaring at the test as you blink rapidly at the tears gathering.

You think back to that night, the way his hands felt on your skin, the way he murmured your name against your throat as he moved inside you.

“You’re so perfect.” Auston had whispered against your skin, the creak of your bed filling the room as you pant, your legs hooking around his waist.

It had been reckless - as most of your nights together were - but neither of you had noticed when the condom had torn. Well you had noticed, just maybe a little too late. You remember the way he swore under his breath afterward, sitting up on his knees as he glanced down at the small tear in the latex, a furrow between his brows as he pulled you close, but neither of you had lingered on it.

“We can get you a plan B pill in the morning.” He mumbled into your hair - he did get you the pill - clearly it didn’t work the way you hoped, didn’t help you ignore the problem like you usually would.

Now, you don’t have the luxury of ignoring things anymore.

You take a deep breath, setting the test down beside you as you rub at your temples. There’s no avoiding this conversation. No pushing it off or pretending like everything is fine. You’re going to have to tell him.

And that terrifies you.

“We can do this.” You say quietly into your bathroom - the ‘we’ is this situation is unknown - you shake your head quickly after, placing your phone back on the ground. “Who am I kidding, he’s just become captain of his team, everyone’s looking to him to finally bring a win back to the leafs, he doesn’t care about this.” You grumble, feeling the agitation rise inside of you as you go back and forth between calling him and not calling him. By the time you work up the courage to call him, your hands are trembling. You hear the phone ring once, twice, three times before he picks up, his voice hushed as he whispers into the phone.

“Yeah?”

Your throat tightens. “Hey.”

There’s a pause, and a rustle as the sound of his teammates in the background gets quieter. “You good?”

No. Not even close.

“I need to talk to you,” you say, gripping the edge of the counter like it’ll keep you steady. “Can you come over?”

A beat of silence. Then, a quiet exhale. “I’m kinda in the middle of something right now - can you come to me?”

Your teeth catch your bottom lip as your head falls back against the bathroom wall, your knees pressed up against you chest as you look down at the test one more time, holding your hand over your phone as you pull it away from your ear, “Kinda in the middle of something.” You mock with a deepened voice as the test on the floor glares back up at you - letting out a long sigh before agreeing. “Okay, where do you want to meet?”

“Just come to the rink - I’ll tell security to let you through.” He says quickly, not waiting long for a response before hanging up with a quick ‘see you soon.’

Two little red lines.

And everything is about to change.

You pull you car into the parking spot about an hour after getting off the phone with Auston, you’re hands white with effort as you try to relax your grip on the steering wheel - the sound of your phone dinging from in your bag finally dragging your attention away from the brick wall in front of you.

Matty 😈: hey, auston said you were on your way to the rink - want me to save you a double choc chip cookie?

Matty 😈: are you ignoring me?

Matty 😈: fine no cookie for you

Matty 😈: seriously are you ignoring me?

Matty 😈: this is just rude - I thought we were friends

You read through your missed messages smiling at the photo that comes through, the large brunette hockey player you had met last year at Auston’s birthday party taking a huge bite of arguably the best thing they serve at the ford performance centre - your smile drops as quickly as it arrives though, the reason you’re here burning a hole in the bottom of your purse, wrapped tightly in a zip lock bag.

You took another three tests before coming - each confirming the exhaustingly bright red lines the original test had - the undeniable truth looking you right in the face.

“Let’s get this over with.” You sigh, tucking your phone back in your bag before slinging it over your shoulder and sliding out of the car - the security guard giving you a tight smile as he buzzes you into the building, the sign in form ready for you at the front desk. You take the visitor tag from the guard, sticking it to your shirt before he directs you to the locker rooms where he assumed Auston would be waiting.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic beating of your heart as you walk down the long hallway of the Ford Performance Centre. The familiar sound of skates scraping the ice, the scent of cold concrete mixed with the faint smell of sweaty gear, should comfort you. After all, you’ve been here plenty of times before, each visit more casual than the last. But tonight? It feels like you're walking into an entirely different world, one where everything is about to change.

You pause at the door to the locker room, your fingers nervously adjusting the strap of your purse. The small plastic bag with the pregnancy test tucked inside feels like it weighs a ton, even though it's hidden away.

Another deep breath.

You’ve made it this far. You can do this. You only need to survive this conversation, and then... well, you’ll figure out the rest. As you step forward, the sound of footsteps in the distance catches your attention, and you freeze. When you turn the corner, you spot him— well not him but him —Matthew.

He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, staring down at his phone, completely unaware of your approach. His trademark smirk curls on his lips as he looks up and catches sight of you, the usual playful glint in his blue eyes.

"Hey, you," Matthew greets, pushing off the doorframe with a fluid motion. His towering frame fills the hallway, but despite his size, his voice is warm and easy, laced with that signature mischievousness. "Auston said you'd be coming by. What took you so long? I was about to assume you were stuck in traffic... or maybe just avoiding me."

You can't help but smile at the teasing. Matthew always knew how to lighten the mood, even when things felt impossible. But today? His usual charm isn’t enough to soothe the nervous energy buzzing beneath your skin.

"Traffic, yeah," you say, attempting a light laugh, though it comes out sounding more like a strained cough. "Something like that."

Matthew arches an eyebrow, his grin widening as he steps closer. "Yeah? Something tells me it’s not just traffic, though. You look like you’ve seen a ghost." His tone shifts, becoming more observant as he glances at you. "What’s going on?"

You swallow thickly. Of course, Matthew notices. He has an uncanny ability to see right through you. He doesn’t even need to try, and yet here you are, trying to keep your mask on.

"I’m fine," you say, trying to brush it off, but the words feel weak even to your own ears.

"Uh-huh," he hums, not buying it for a second. "Fine, huh? And I’m totally not gonna notice that you’re clutching your purse like it’s a life raft." He glances at the bag hanging loosely over your shoulder, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Come on, don’t do that. You’re making me worry. You know I can’t resist when you go all mysterious on me."

You force another smile, shaking your head. "I’m serious, Matty, everything’s fine."

"Everything’s fine?" He chuckles, his voice full of incredulity. "You sure about that? I mean, I don’t want to be that guy, but you’re looking a little pale, and I’m pretty sure your hands are shaking. Come on, spill. Did Auston finally push you over the edge with his constant brooding? I know that’s what would do it for me."

You snort at his attempt to lighten the mood, but it only makes the lump in your throat bigger. “Ooh, are you finally breaking up with him cause you know I’m the better option?” He jokes, Matthew is trying, in his own way, but he has no idea what’s coming. No idea how much this conversation is going to change things, not just for you, but for everyone involved.

“It’s hard to break up with someone you aren’t dating.” You whisper glaring to the floor, clearing your throat before looking back up at Matthew, plastering a new more determined smile on your face. "I’m okay, really," you repeat, feeling like a broken record. But the more you try to convince him, the more you feel like you’re lying to both him and yourself. Matthew isn’t buying it. He steps forward, dropping his playful façade for a moment, the concern creeping back into his features.

"No, you’re not okay. I know you too well, and right now, you're barely holding it together. What’s going on?"

Before you can respond, you hear the distinct sound of heavy steps hitting the floor, the rhythm of them familiar. The tension in the air shifts. Matthew looks at you, his eyes narrowing for a brief moment, almost like he’s seeing through the layers you’ve built to keep everything in place. “Did he hurt you?” Matthew keeps his voice barely audible, all signs of humour gone from his face as you shake your head quickly. Auston emerges at the end of the hallway, his broad form instantly recognisable. He walks with purpose, his usual confident stride, but as soon as his eyes meet yours, his expression shifts just slightly—a flicker of hesitation.

Matthew notices it too, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, speak of the devil," he mutters under his breath, his voice dripping with that trademark sarcasm you’ve come to expect from him.

Auston’s gaze shifts from Matthew to you, his brows furrowing, and you can feel his attention on you like a weight pressing down on your chest. "You okay?" he asks, his tone clipped. There’s a slight edge to it, like he’s already preparing himself for whatever it is you’re about to say, but it’s buried beneath layers of indifference.

Matthew quirks an eyebrow at the question, clearly not impressed. "I was just asking her the same thing," he quips, turning to you with a raised eyebrow, his voice now tinged with playful accusation. "Something’s off, right? Come on, don’t make me drag it out of you." You open your mouth to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. There’s so much you need to say, so much you’ve been holding back, but when Auston steps closer, you can feel the weight of it all crashing down.

"Everything okay?" Auston repeats, his voice lower this time, softer, like he’s trying to coax you out of the shell you’ve locked yourself inside. You can tell he’s sensing the shift in the air, the tension that’s thickening around you, you watch as Auston raises his hands, reaching for you before deciding better of it and letting them fall back to his side. You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but it’s like the words are stuck behind an invisible wall. Matthew’s gaze flicks between the two of you, and for the briefest second, his playful smile falters. There’s a look in his eyes, an instinctive understanding that something’s really is not right. He looks back at you, no longer playful, but protective.

“Seriously, what’s going on? You’re starting to scare me.” Matthew asks again, quieter this time, as he looks straight into your eyes. His voice is gentle now, lacking the usual teasing edge, replaced with something that feels a little too serious for your liking. "You don’t have to tell me, but—"

"I’m pregnant," you blurt, your voice almost a whisper, barely audible against the hum of the arena, your hand slapping over your mouth, but it’s too late. The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, raw and trembling, and for a moment, you feel as if the entire world has stopped. Auston’s reaction is immediate. He freezes, his eyes wide, and for the first time, you see the cracks in his carefully crafted façade. His jaw tightens, and he takes a small step back, as if your words have physically pushed him away.

Matthew’s eyes widen too, but then there’s a strange kind of understanding. He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks between you and Auston, his expression unreadable. You can tell he’s trying to process it, trying to figure out how to navigate the situation.

"Shit," Matthew mutters, his voice barely above a whisper as he looks down at the floor. It’s clear the reality of what you just said is sinking in. “I um.. should leave you guys to it.” He mumbles - taking a step back before hesitating.

Auston finally speaks, his voice low, almost mechanical. “This wasn’t what I was expecting.” he says, the words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. You want to say something, anything, but all you can do is stand there, rooted in place, waiting for Auston’s response. Matthew looks at you one last time, his gaze softening with a quiet sympathy, before turning away, giving you both space to process.

“Are you sure?” Auston questions, your hands automatically digging into your purse pulling out the stack of tests in the ziplock bag, handing them over so Auston can take his turn to examine them. “Pretty sure - I guess we won’t fully know until I see the doctor but I think it’s pretty likely.” You let Auston take his time, letting everything sink in as you stand there awkwardly, arms crossing over your chest any kind of protection better then standing out in the open like this.

“I know this is a lot to take in but we need to talk about what were both expecting in the situation.” You say, trying to stay as calm as you can as you watch the seven stages of grief flicker of Auston’s face.

“I… I can’t—” Auston’s words get stuck in the back of his throat as he hands the tests back to you, running his hands over his face as he shakes his head. “I don’t have time for this.” He says softly, the words slapping you across the face. Your breath catches in your throat, the sting of his words hitting you harder than you expected. You don’t know what response you were hoping for, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Auston runs a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in the tense lines of his jaw, the way his shoulders seem to draw in on themselves. He looks like he wants to say more, but instead, he just exhales sharply, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear a thought before it takes root. Your fingers tighten around the plastic bag in your hands, the crinkle of it impossibly loud in the silence between you. The weight of his words settles in your stomach like lead.

“You don’t have time for this?” you echo, your voice eerily calm, but inside, everything feels like it’s unraveling.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just presses his lips together in a thin line before turning his gaze away from you, as if looking at you directly is too much.

“You had time to fuck me,” you say, the bitterness in your tone undeniable, your hands trembling at your sides, “and look where that got us.” Auston flinches, just barely, but you see it. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. His fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you, like he wants to say something—something other than what he just did—but he doesn’t. He stays rooted to the spot, silent, frozen in place like this is some nightmare he’s trying to wake up from. Your pulse pounds in your ears, the hurt bubbling beneath your skin threatening to spill over, but you force yourself to take a breath.

“I didn’t mean—” he starts, but you shake your head, cutting him off before he can attempt to backtrack.

“No, you did,” you say, voice steadier than you feel. “You meant every word.”

Silence stretches between you like an abyss, and for the first time since you stepped into the arena, you realize just how cold it really is. The chill bites at your exposed skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ice settling deep in your bones.

Auston drags a hand down his face, sighing deeply, before finally looking at you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something flickering behind his eyes, something you can’t quite decipher.

“I just—” He exhales, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

You stare at him, trying to swallow down the lump forming in your throat. “I expect you to act like a goddamn adult,” you snap. “I expect you to acknowledge that this is happening instead of pretending like you can just ignore it.”

His jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring as he takes a step back, like he needs the distance between you to think clearly. “This was never supposed to happen,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, but you hear it anyway, and it sets something off inside you.

“Oh, really? Because I totally planned this,” you bite out, sarcasm lacing your words. “I thought, ‘hey, you know what would make my life really great? Getting pregnant by a guy who can’t even be bothered to have a conversation about it.’”

His eyes snap to yours, anger flickering beneath the surface, but you don’t back down. If he wants to be mad, fine. You can be mad too.

“This isn’t just about you, Auston,” you continue, voice shaking despite your best efforts. “You don’t get to decide that you ‘don’t have time for this’ just because it’s inconvenient for you. Because guess what? It’s not exactly convenient for me either.”

Something shifts in his expression, a crack in the wall he’s been trying so hard to keep up. His lips part, but whatever he was going to say never makes it out, because before he can, Matthew’s voice cuts through the tension.

“Everything okay out here?” You both turn to see him standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his broad chest, an unreadable expression on his face. You don’t know how much he heard, but from the way his eyes flick between you and Auston, you’d guess it was enough.

Auston exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck before muttering, “Dude, this doesn’t have anything to do with you.” Matthew rolls his eyes at his captains words, turning his gaze to you as you let out what feels like your millionth sigh of the day.

“It’s fine, Matty.” Matthew doesn’t look convinced. His gaze lingers on you for a second longer, like he’s waiting for you to say something more, to confirm or deny whatever he’s thinking. But you don’t. You’re too exhausted to even attempt to explain.

Auston steps back, stuffing his hands into his pockets, his eyes avoiding yours. “I need time to think,” he mutters.

A dry, humourless laugh escapes you. “Take all the time you need, Auston. But this isn’t going away.” You turn on your heel before he can respond, before he can say something else that might break you even further, and walk away without looking back.

Matthew falls into step beside you, quiet for a few beats before finally speaking. “Where are we going?” You nod quickly to the security guard as you stomp your way over to your car, finally turning to face Matthew as you reach the hunk of metal.

“We aren’t going anywhere.” You say quickly, letting out a shaky breath as swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m going home to book a doctors appointment and then I’m going to crawl into bed and try to pretend like none of this has happened, while that goddamn oaf takes his time pulling his big boy pants on.” You hiss, Matthew’s small smile returning at the fire in your eyes, his arms circling around you and tugging you in for a tight hug, his chin finding a spot of the top of your head as he hands stroke up and down your back.

“It’s okay to be upset.” He whispers, his soft smile sitting on his face as your body crumbles against his, soft soothing words falling out of his mouth as you let out a choked sob. “You’re going to be okay - if he’s not going to be here, then I will.” Matthew whispers as he presses a soft kiss against your hair.

Matthew lets you cry for what feels like eternity before he tucks you into the passenger seat of your own car, his large body sliding into the drivers side as he taps your address into the GPS. “You really don’t have to drive me home.” You says softly, your cheeks still red and eyes swollen from you tears.

Matthew looks at you with a raise of his eyebrows before backing out of the parking spot, his hand finding your knee as he gives it a quick squeeze. “I don’t have to.” He agrees, “But I want to — who else is going to take care of you.” He hums, his hand squeezing your leg one more time before retreating back to his own lap - letting you spend the drive staring out the window, your phone buzzing in your bag constantly as you ignore call after call from Auston.

Auston knows he said all the wrong things.

Auston knows that it’s boyfriend 101 to support your girlfriend in her time of need - to give up your own panic to make sure she doesn’t have any.

But Auston isn’t your boyfriend and his panic had settled deep in the pit of his stomach as he watched you walk away from him. He should go after you. He knows that. But his feet feel like they’ve been cemented to the ground, weighted down by the things he didn’t say. The things he should have said. Auston runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply as he glances toward the door you disappeared through. His heart is hammering against his ribs, a staccato of regret and frustration.

He replays the conversation in his head, the sharp edges of his words cutting deeper now that you’re gone. He hadn’t meant to be cruel. He hadn’t meant to push you away. But he did—just like he always does. And now? Now, he’s stuck in the aftermath, watching the space you left behind like it might somehow tell him how to fix this.

The panic is still there, simmering under his skin, curling in his stomach. He’s never been good at this—at knowing what to say, at making things right before they go so horribly wrong.

But he can’t let this be it.

So Auston moves.

His legs feel heavy, his pulse unsteady, but he moves. Through the door, down the hallway, searching for you like he’s scared you might slip through his fingers entirely if he doesn’t find you now.

Because maybe you’re not his to lose.

And maybe this baby is what you both need to realise how much you need each other.

Baby.

You were going to have a baby — his baby.

Auston pauses his searching, leaning over to brace his hands on his knees as he lets out a groan - the bile raising in the back of throat as one of his teammates comes up behind him to clap a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you’re not looking too good, cap.” Mitch’s voice was unmistakable as Auston lets out another groan.

“I need to go.” He says quickly, shaking off Mitch’s hand as he pats his pockets, his keys tucked deeply into one and his phone in the other. Auston ignores Mitch’s protests as he taps on the screen of his phone pressing it to his ear as he waits for the rings to turn into your soft voice.

It never does.

Auston rings again.

And again.

Nothing.

Auston knows he should give you space — let you breathe like you were going to let him.

But this can’t be how he lets you walk away.

“Matthew I seriously think this is too much food.” You coo as you look at the bags of take out he stacks on your kitchen counter - his eyes lighting up with joy at the sight of the food.

“No such thing.” He frowns, pulling each item out of its bag before laying it out on the counter and taking stock of his order, “And besides what if there’s something that makes you feel sick? Or something you can’t eat? I really should’ve checked what pregnant people are allowed to eat before ordering.” He sighs, the amount of food suddenly overwhelming as you roll your eyes tucking your throw blanket tighter around yourself as you shuffle back over to the couch, flopping on the plush seat as your T.V continues to play the fantastic reality show Matthew had insisted you watch.

“I’ll take the cheese pizza.” You interrupt Matthew’s spiralling as he looks at the google search results for ‘what do pregnant people need to avoid?’ Matthew nods sliding a few pieces on a plate before delivering it over to you on the couch taking his own seat with the remaining slices on his lap.

Auston’s words echo in your mind, a relentless loop of his dismissal, his coldness, his inability to understand. The ache inside you hasn’t dulled since that moment, and with every bite of pizza, you can feel it growing, gnawing at your insides. Matthew’s presence is a comforting balm for your soul, but the emptiness left by Auston’s rejection is harder to shake.

Matthew’s quiet chuckles bring you back to the present as he teases you about the reality show, his laughter light and easy, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling in your chest. You force a smile, trying to match his easygoing mood, but it feels thin, like a flimsy mask over the raw hurt still festering inside.

"Hey, you really don’t have to hang out with me because you feel bad,” you joke weakly, taking another bite of pizza to drown out the thoughts that are threatening to spill over. But Matthew doesn’t seem fooled by the attempt. His eyes soften, and his hand, resting on the arm of the couch, inches closer to yours, the warmth of his touch offering some measure of comfort, even though it’s not the touch you really need.

“Who said I was here cause I feel bad?” he says with a teasing smile, but his voice has a certain gentleness to it that tells you he’s more concerned than he lets on. “Maybe this is me finally taking my chance to put a wedge between you and Auston so I can have you all to myself.” Matthew chuckles at his own words and you nod silently, grateful for his lightheartedness, but your mind drifts back to Auston again. His absence, his words—everything feels so wrong. If you could just speak to him, explain how much this meant to you, how much it hurt when he brushed you aside so easily, maybe you could find some kind of resolution. But every time you think about facing him, the thought of his indifference fills you with dread.

A soft beep from your phone interrupts the silence, and you glance at it. Another call from Auston. The number of missed calls from him is starting to pile up, each one a reminder of how far apart you both are now. You stare at the screen for a long moment, debating whether to pick up or not. You know that every conversation with him right now will only hurt more, but there’s this part of you, deep down, that still wants to hear his voice, to feel like there’s a chance of reconciliation.

Before you can make a decision, Matthew speaks again, his voice more serious this time. "You know he’s not giving up on you, right?" You don’t have the energy to respond right away, so you just look at Matthew, his expression soft but determined. He’s been your rock through this, always there when you needed someone.

"I’m not trying to start something," Matthew continues, "but I just want to make sure you’re okay. If you want to answer him, then do it. But don't let him off the hook too easily. You deserve more than what he gave you earlier." You know he’s right. But still, a part of you wants to believe that Auston could change, that he could find the right words to make it better, to make you feel like everything’s going to be okay. The other part of you wants to slam the door shut, leave him in the past, and never look back.

"How do you always know what to say?" you ask softly, unable to hold back a tired laugh. Matthew shrugs, his smile small but genuine.

"I guess I just know you." His words are simple, but they’re enough to make the tension in your chest loosen, just a little.

You exhale slowly, sinking deeper into the couch as the TV drones on in the background. Matthew’s words linger in the air, and for the first time today, you let yourself feel a bit of peace. Maybe it’s not the peace you were hoping for, the one that comes with Auston’s apology, but for now, it’s enough.

The next few hours pass in a blur of television and food, and though you still feel the weight of Auston’s absence, it’s easier to breathe. You don’t have to solve everything in a single night. You don’t have to be strong all the time.

When Matthew finally leaves, after a quiet conversation and a long hug, you feel the solitude of your apartment settle around you like a thick blanket. The house is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. You place your dishes in the sink as the loud knock sounds through your apartment, your head tilting at the sound as you glance at the clock on your microwave.

2am.

Who on earth would be knocking on your door at two in the morning? Each step feels heavier than the last, the weight of the evening still pressing down on you. When you reach the door, you hesitate, fingers hovering over the handle. Your phone is still on the couch, too far to grab quickly if you need it, but something deep in your gut tells you exactly who is on the other side.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, before unlocking the door and pulling it open just enough to see who it is.

Auston.

He’s standing there, his dark hoodie pulled over his head, his face cast in shadows from the dim lighting in the hallway. His eyes are wild, desperate, and for the first time tonight, he looks as broken as you feel.

“You’re ignoring my calls.” His voice is rough, uneven, like he’s been running or like he’s spent the last few hours drowning in his own thoughts.

You cross your arms over your chest, gripping the fabric of your sweatshirt tightly. “Figured that was the point, since you ‘don’t have time for this.’” The bitterness in your voice is unmistakable, and Auston flinches like you physically struck him.

“I didn’t mean that.” He steps closer, his hands shoved deep into his pockets like he’s trying to ground himself. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

You let out a breath, exhaustion weighing heavy in your bones. “Then why did you say it?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks away, staring at the floor like it holds the answers he’s searching for. “Because I was scared,” he admits, voice raw. “Because I’m an idiot. Because I didn’t know how to handle it, and I reacted the only way I know how—to push people away before they can leave me first.”

His words crack something inside you, but you force yourself to stand firm. “I wasn’t going to leave you, Auston. I told you because I thought—” Your voice wavers, the pain seeping through. “I thought maybe we could figure this out together.”

“I want to,” he says quickly, stepping forward again, his hands twitching like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if he’s allowed. “I know I don’t deserve another chance after what I said, but I need you to know I don’t want to run from this. I don’t want to run from you.”

Your throat tightens, and you shake your head, trying to process everything. “You don’t get to just show up in the middle of the night and expect everything to be okay.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “I know, and I don’t expect that. I just—” He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “I just need you to know that I’m here. That I’m not going anywhere.”

The silence between you stretches, heavy and uncertain. You want to believe him, you do, but the wounds are still fresh, still aching.

After a long moment, you sigh, stepping back just enough to widen the door. “Come in.”

Auston’s eyes snap up to meet yours, surprised, hopeful. He hesitates only a second before stepping inside, his presence filling the space as you shut the door behind him. He stands there awkwardly, unsure of what to do next, and you sigh, moving past him toward the kitchen.

“Do you want some tea?” you ask, your voice softer now, less sharp around the edges.

Auston nods, his shoulders sagging slightly in relief. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

As you move around the kitchen, boiling water and pulling down mugs, you feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting. You’re not sure where this leaves you, if you can forgive him or if things will ever be the same again. But for now, at least, he’s here.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s a start.

He shifts, exhaling slowly. “How are you feeling?”

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the handle of the kettle. The question is simple, but the answer is anything but. Finally, you sigh. “Tired. Confused.” You glance at him. “Still angry.”

He nods, absorbing your words like they’re a verdict he already expected. “I get that. I deserve that.” You pour the hot water into the mugs, watching the tea steep, the swirling colours mirroring your tangled emotions.

“I don’t know what happens next, Auston.” You brace against the counter, your shoulders dropping forwards as your hair falls into your face. You take a deep breath before rolling your shoulders back and continuing to make the tea - dumping the tea bags in the garbage before carrying the mugs over to the coffee table, calming your seat on the edge of the couch as Auston moves to join you. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” You whisper before taking a long sip of your tea, willing the hot liquid to burn away all the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“It wasn’t.” Auston agrees as he makes himself comfortable on your couch, his eyes tracking each of your movements as he sips his tea. “But it is and we need to think about all our options.” He adds, his lips tipping up at the corners as you snort into your cup, sending an amused glance his way.

“What options do we have, Auston?” You start off with a small chuckle but the expression on his face makes you pause, a shocked gasp leaving you. “You want to get rid of it?” You slowly leans forwards to place you mug on the table, your brows furrowing as you stare down the man next to you, his eyes widening as he shakes his head.

“I’m not saying that what I want, I’m just saying it’s an option if that’s what you wanted.” He explains, throwing his hands up in defence, “This is your choice, whatever you want to do is what we’ll do.”You stare at Auston, searching his face for any hint of deception, any sign that he’s saying what he thinks you want to hear rather than the truth. His eyes remain locked onto yours, unwavering, and there’s something about the raw honesty in his gaze that makes your breath hitch.

“Do you mean that?” Your voice is quiet, but the weight behind your words is undeniable.

“Every word,” Auston replies immediately, his voice rough with emotion. “I know I screwed up. I know I hurt you, and I might not deserve another chance, but I swear to you, I’m here. For you. For—” He stops short, your body moving quickly as you lean forward—your hands pulling his face toward you as you latch your lips to his. The kiss is feverish, fuelled by anger, longing, and desperation, your hands tangling into his hair as he lets out a muffled groan against your lips. His hands twitch against your waist, hesitant, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch you yet.

You answer for him by swinging a leg over his lap, settling atop him as your mouths continue to move in frantic unison. Auston gasps against your lips, his grip tightening around your waist as he finally allows himself to touch you, fingers pressing into the curve of your hips. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back, afraid of pushing too far, too fast. But you don’t want him to hold back—not tonight.

You grind down against him, slowly at first, testing, teasing, feeling the way his breath stutters as his fingers dig in harder, a strangled groan slipping past his lips. His head falls back against the couch, and you take the opportunity to kiss down his jaw, your lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of his neck. He curses softly, his grip tightening as he bucks up instinctively, seeking more of your warmth, your touch, your everything.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice strained, his hands sliding up your sides before stopping just beneath the hem of your shirt, his thumbs brushing against the soft skin there. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His desperation is palpable, and it makes something heady and powerful coil in your stomach. You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze, watching the way his pupils are blown wide with want. His lips are kiss-swollen, his breathing ragged, and you feel the thrill of knowing you did that to him, that despite everything, he still wants you—needs you. You roll your hips against him again, and his head drops forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as another rough groan leaves his lips. “You’re killing me,” he mutters, voice thick with need.

For a moment, you revel in the way he’s unraveling beneath you, in the way he’s clinging to you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. But then, just as quickly as the fire ignited, reality crashes down around you.

“We should stop.” You whisper, looking into his eyes with a sheepish smile, “This is what got us into this mess in the first place.” You let out a soft laugh as you slide off his lap, not noticing the way Auston’s body chases after yours, rising to his feet as you rise to yours.

“Do you think I could stay tonight?” He asks slowly, your head immediately nodding, “No funny business.” He promises, his lips spreading into another grin as he leans down at captures your lips one more time, slow and steady, his hands reaching up to brush your hair away from your neck. “Sorry, I just needed one more.”

The cramping starts as a dull ache, a whisper of discomfort that you initially brush off. You’re curled up on the couch, Matthew beside you, flipping through channels aimlessly. It’s been two weeks since Auston showed up at your door, two weeks of tentative peace, of whispered reassurances and hesitant touches that still carried the weight of his fear and your uncertainty.

It’s not perfect, not even close. But it’s something.

Then the ache sharpens.

You shift, sucking in a slow breath, a hand instinctively pressing against your lower stomach. Matthew glances over from his spot on the couch, his phone in front of his face as he watches a movie through TikTok, catching the movement. “You okay?” he asks, brows drawing together.

You nod, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, just...cramps, I think.”

Matthew frowns, eyes flicking down to your stomach. “Is that normal?” You open your mouth to answer, to dismiss his concern, but the pain lances through you then, sudden and sharp, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your fingers clutch the fabric of your sweater, your body curling in on itself as a strangled gasp escapes you.

Matthew’s already moving. “Hey, hey,” he says, shifting closer, his hand landing gently on your back. “Talk to me.” You try, but another wave of pain crashes into you, and this time, it’s accompanied by a terrifying warmth between your legs. You look down, breath hitching as you see it—the small dot of stark crimson staining your sweatpants.

A sob rips from your throat. “Matty something’s wrong.”

Matthew follows your gaze, and his entire body goes rigid. “Shit,” he breathes. Then, more forcefully, “Shit, okay, we need to go. Come on.”

He doesn’t hesitate, you teeth trapping your lip at the panic that sinks in. Your doctor had said that a bit of spotting was normal, but this felt wrong.

Everything felt wrong.

Matthew is scooping you into his arms before you can protest, his grip firm but gentle, his voice steady despite the panic flickering behind his eyes. You cling to him, the pain rolling through you in unbearable waves, fear clawing at your throat.

“Auston,” you whisper weakly. “We need to—”

Matthew’s jaw clenches as he carries you to his car. “I called him earlier. I think he’s still at practice. I’ll get you to the hospital first, then I’ll call again.”

The drive is a blur of pain and fear and Matthew’s voice grounding you through it all - his hand steady on your thigh as he drives your through town like a goddamn maniac.

“Matthew I know this is probably an emergency, but if you could get me to the hospital alive that would be great.” You hiss, your hand gripping his wrist as he swerves between the traffic a cacophony of honks following behind him.

By the time you get to the ER, your world is a haze of fluorescent lights and Matthew’s warm hands pressed against your back as he walks you into the ER, his voice low as he whispers to the nurse at the front desk. “Hi, my friend here might be having a miscarriage.” The nurse glances at him blankly as she types on her computer nodding slowly.

“And what are your symptoms?” She questions, just as you curl into yourself again the cramping making you let out a frustrated groan.

“She started cramping really bad and the bleeding was slow at first but it seems to be speeding up.” Matthew notes for you, his jacket tied around your waist the hide the dark red stain on the back of your pants.

“Sir if you could let her answer the questions, that would be great.” The nurses replies, not noticing the way Matthew rolls his eyes, his brows furrowing into a frown.

“What he said, please it really hurts.” You hiss, standing up remotely straight as Matthew rubs soft circles against your back.

“Okay, if you don’t mind taking a seat a nurse will come get you once there is availability.” She says shooting you a surprisingly soft smile, the empathy written across her face as you nod, moving towards the waiting room before Matthew stops you, his hand holding you steady in front of him as he leans closer to the nurse.

“Did you not hear a word we said?” He snaps, “She’s in a lot of pain and is bleeding - she thinks she’s having a goddamn miscarriage and you asking her to take a seat.” He lets out a laugh of disbelief as the words tumble from his mouth, his head shaking as he looks down at the nurse one more time. “Find her space and a doctor.”

The nurse huffs at his firm words, rolling her eyes as she stands from her chair, her eyes shooting down to your pants as she glances over the desk, her eyes widening a little as she glances up at you. “Hold on, baby we’re getting help.” Matthew whispers pressing a soft kiss to your hair as you lean against him. You hear Matthew arguing with the nurse, demanding they hurry, that you’re bleeding too much, that something isn’t right. His voice is sharp, edged with barely restrained panic.

You barely remember getting whisked out the back, Matthew keeping your hand tightly grasped in his as the nurses work around you - the doctor placing the ultrasound probe on your stomach, before shooting the nurse a small grimace.

“How far along are we?” The doctor asks softly.

“13 weeks, I think.”

“Okay, we’re just going to run a few test - it’s best if you rest for now.” The doctor says carefully, ushering Matthew out of the room with a nod of his head.

“I’ll be right back, don’t close your eyes for too long.” He mumbles, lifting your hand to press a featherlight kiss against your knuckles before following the doctor out of the room.

Matthew should know better than to expect you to listen.

You wake to a dull, hollow ache. The weight of an IV in your arm. The sterile scent of antiseptic and too-clean sheets. Your head feels foggy, your limbs heavy. For a moment, you forget why you’re here.

And then you remember.

The baby.

The blood.

The pain.

Your throat tightens as you glance around the room, sitting up quickly in your bed to take in your surroundings a little more. There’s movement beside you. A hand slipping into yours.

Warm, solid, grounding.

Matthew.

You turn your head slowly, blinking through the haze of grief and pain. He’s sitting in a chair beside your bed, his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced through yours like he’s afraid to let go. His eyes are red-rimmed, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them. He looks wrecked.

“The baby?” You know you shouldn’t bother asking - the doctors face was enough to go by, but you can’t help yourself - the sadistic part needing to hear someone say it out loud before you can let it sink deeper into the pit of your stomach. Matthew doesn’t say anything, he just shakes his head slowly.

“They, um— The doctor said they’ve got the bleeding under control but they’re worried about more internal issues so they want to keep you for observation. “Matthew starts to explain slowly - “They think the pregnancy was something called an ectopic pregnancy and the baby wasn’t viable.” Matthew repeats the words just as you assumed to doctor had told them to him.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice raw. “I should’ve made them speak to you but they thought I was the—”

“You were here,” you whisper, squeezing his hand weakly. “That’s all that matters.” His throat bobs as he swallows, and for a long moment, neither of you speak. The weight of the loss sits heavy between you, a silent, unbearable thing.

Then, the door swings open.

Auston.

His eyes find yours instantly, widening with something akin to panic as he steps into the room. “Jesus,” he breathes. “I came as soon as I—”

He stops short when he sees Matthew’s hand in yours.

Matthew doesn’t move.

Doesn’t let go.

Auston’s gaze darkens. “Can we talk?”

Matthew rises slowly, but he doesn’t step away. His stance is protective, shoulders squared. “Now you want to talk?” His voice is dangerously calm. “Where the fuck were you? You were just supposed to be back from practice hours ago.”

Auston’s jaw tightens. “I had a thing, I didn’t—”

“You didn’t pick up.” Matthew’s voice sharpens, the tension in the room coiling tight. “I called. I left messages. She was bleeding out in my fucking car, Auston.”

“Matthew.” You whisper quietly, giving his hand a squeeze to try and reign in his frustrations.

Auston’s face pales, his gaze flicking to you, filled with something unreadable. “I didn’t know—”

“That’s the problem,” Matthew cuts in, stepping closer. “You should have been with her in the first place.”

Auston bristles, stepping forward to meet him. “You think I don’t know that? You think I wanted this to happen?”

“I think,” Matthew says, voice deadly quiet, “that she needed you, and you weren’t there, again.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Auston’s fists clench at his sides, his breathing ragged. He looks at you, at the tears slipping silently down your cheeks, at the devastation etched into every inch of your face. And something in him breaks.

“I fucked up,” he says, voice barely more than a whisper. “I know I did.”

Matthew scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s the understatement of the fucking century.” Auston ignores him. He steps closer to you, hesitating before reaching for your hand, but you don’t move. You don’t know if you can.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.

You swallow thickly, your heart aching with the weight of it all. “You shouldn’t be sorry - it’s not your fault.” You can feel Matthew’s hand squeeze against your again, the anger rolling off him in waves.

Auston flinches like you physically struck him. “I know, but he’s right, I should’ve come home straight after practice.” Matthew watches you carefully, his expression unreadable, but his hand gripping yours, ready to catch you if you fall.

The silence stretches between the three of you, thick and suffocating. Auston is still staring at you, his eyes dark with regret, with guilt, with something you don’t have the energy to decipher.

Matthew’s thumb strokes slow, reassuring circles on the back of your hand, the warmth of his skin grounding you, keeping you tethered to something tangible when everything else feels like it’s unraveling.

“I fucked up.” Auston says again, softer this time.

Matthew scoffs beside you, shifting on his feet, his fingers tightening around yours. “No shit.”

Auston’s gaze flicks toward him, sharp with frustration. “I know you’re pissed—”

“Pissed doesn’t even fucking cover it,” Matthew snaps, his voice low but brimming with anger. “Do you have any idea what it was like? Do you know how fucking scared she was?”

Auston flinches, his shoulders stiffening. “I—”

“She was crying in the car, in so much pain she could barely breathe,” Matthew barrels on, voice shaking now. “And you didn’t answer your fucking phone. I had to sit in that waiting room, not knowing if she was gonna be okay, if she—” His voice catches, and he stops, dragging a hand over his face. “And where the fuck were you, Auston?”

You exhale shakily, your free hand pressing against your stomach. There’s nothing left inside you but hollow, aching loss. “Matt,” you murmur, tugging his hand gently.

His eyes snap down to you immediately, the fury in them softening the second he sees your face. His thumb brushes over your knuckles again, soothing in a way that makes something shift in your chest. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter now, gentler. “I just—” He blows out a breath, shaking his head. “It’s not my place.”

But that’s the thing, isn’t it?

Matthew had been here. Every step of the way. Holding you together, keeping you steady while your world cracked apart at the seams.

You shift slightly, wincing as the movement sends a dull ache through your abdomen. Matthew notices instantly, his free hand coming up to adjust your pillows, supporting you without a second thought. Auston watches, his expression carefully blank.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I think I just need to rest.”

Matthew nods, stepping back slightly but not letting go of your hand. Auston, however, hesitates, looking like he wants to say something, do something—fix something that can’t be fixed.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he finally says, his voice strained. “If you—if you want me to.”

You don’t know how to answer that. You nod faintly, looking away, and Auston takes that as his cue to leave. The door clicks softly shut behind him, leaving you alone with Matthew in the dim, sterile quiet of the hospital room.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. The weight of everything lingers in the air between you.

Matthew sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You should get some sleep.”

You nod, but your grip on his hand tightens slightly. “Stay?”

His eyes soften. “Yeah. Of course.” He doesn’t even hesitate. He just lowers the railing on the side of the hospital bed and carefully, gently, climbs in beside you, manoeuvring around the wires and IV with practiced ease. His arms come around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his body a steady, solid warmth against yours. You exhale slowly, your body relaxing for the first time in hours.

Matthew presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “I got you,” he murmurs.

And for the first time all night, you believe it.

The first two weeks after leaving the hospital had been torture — Auston has come back once the next day, sitting silently in the corner of the room when Matthew went to get lunch, only moving to grab something you needed, but for the most part he just sat, and watched.

He said nothing, his had used up all the apologies he could give, he knew pushing would make things worse so he just said nothing — waiting for you to give him the time you thought he deserved.

He was there when you were discharged, walking you into your apartment and sitting by your kitchen counter until Matthew came to keep you company, silently slipping out of your house without a word - his tiredness showing more then it ever had before.

It had been two weeks since you had seen him last.

The weight of Matthew’s presence beside you is comforting, a steady anchor in the storm of emotions swirling in your chest. His arm remains slung across the back of the couch, his knee brushing against yours as the TV drones on in the background. You should be paying attention, should be letting the ridiculous antics of reality show contestants pull you into distraction, but your thoughts are elsewhere.

On Auston.

On what you’ve lost.

And on the way Matthew’s presence, solid and unwavering, should be enough to make you feel whole again—but it isn’t — it’s making you miss the brown eyed hockey player even more then you ever thought possible.

You shift slightly, turning your head to find Matthew already watching you, his blue eyes softer than usual, filled with something you don’t quite have the courage to name. His gaze flickers down to your lips for a split second before he quickly looks away, clearing his throat.

“Have you heard from him?”

“Not really — he’s been calling to check in but I haven’t really answered. You say sheepishly, Matthew nodding slowly, his hands loosening on his phone as he places it besides him, turning his body more towards you.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks, his voice quiet but insistent.

You swallow, shaking your head. “Not really.” He studies you for a moment, then nods, like he understands. He always understands.

“Alright,” he murmurs, shifting closer, the warmth of his body radiating against yours. “Then we won’t talk.”

You don’t know who moves first, whether it’s him or you.

You’re pretty sure it’s you.

But suddenly, the space between you disappears, his hand finding your cheek as he tilts your face toward his. His breath fans against your lips, warm and familiar, and for a fleeting moment, you let yourself lean into it.

His lips meet yours softly at first, tentative, as if giving you space to pull away. When you don’t, he deepens the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he shifts, his body pressing against yours in a way that feels undeniably right.

But as quickly as the warmth spreads through you, it dissipates, cold realisation creeping in like a slow-moving fog.

It doesn’t feel the same.

You pull back sharply, breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs. Matthew’s brow furrows, his expression shifting from dazed to concerned in an instant.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

“I started it.” You shake your head, as you slip away from him, any explanation failing you.

Because how do you explain that the kiss was nice—good, even—but it wasn’t Auston? That no matter how much you want to move forward, and how much you hate feeling like you’re leading Matthew on, your heart is still tethered to someone else?

“I—I need to go,” you murmur, scrambling to your feet.

Matthew blinks, his concern deepening as he watches you gather your things with shaking hands. “Wait, hold on—”

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, voice thick with emotion as you back toward the door. “I just— I have to go.”

Matthew stands, his hands flexing at his sides like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t know if he should. “Where?” He asks the question, but you can see in his face that he already knows the answer, the tension in his body growing as he follows you to your front door.

You hesitate, biting your lip before confirming, “Auston’s.”

His face tightens for a split second before he nods, the fight leaving his posture. “Are you coming back?”

“I don’t know, Matty.” You breathe, taking a few steps forwards to push up on your tippy toes as press a soft kiss against his cheek, “Please don’t hate me.”

Matthew closes his eyes for a moment, taking in a long, deep breaths before nodding softly, the acceptance of the situation washing over him - “Drive safe.” He says.

You nod, offering him one last fleeting look before slipping out the door and into the night. The what could have been slipping into the night with you - the possibility of everything Matthew could’ve offered you left behind in your apartment.

The drive to Auston’s is a blur, your hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles ache. Every thought, every fear, every unresolved emotion crashes into you all at once, leaving you breathless. By the time you pull up outside his house, the reality of what you’re doing starts to sink in.

It’s late.

You shouldn’t be here.

And yet, you find yourself stepping out of the car, the chilled night air biting at your skin. Each step feels heavier than the last as you approach his front door, your pulse pounding in your ears. You knock once, twice, before the door swings open, revealing a very surprised and very exhausted-looking Auston.

His hair is disheveled, like he’s been running his fingers through it, and his hoodie is slightly rumpled, as if he’s been pacing the house for hours. His brown eyes widen when he sees you, and for a moment, he just stares, like he’s not sure if you’re real.

“Hey,” he finally says, voice hoarse, rough like he hasn’t spoken in hours.

“Hey,” you breathe out, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself. He steps aside, wordlessly inviting you in. The silence between you is thick, weighted with all the things left unsaid. You walk past him, the scent of him—clean laundry and something distinctly Auston—wrapping around you like a cruel reminder of everything you’ve been trying to forget.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls,” he says after a beat, his voice careful, measured.

You turn to face him, hugging your arms around yourself. “I know.”

His jaw clenches, and he looks away, exhaling sharply. “Is it because of him?”

Your stomach twists. “It’s not about Matthew.”

Auston lets out a hollow laugh, but there’s an edge to it, a sharpness that makes your breath catch. “Really? Because it sure as hell seems like it.”

“Auston—” He steps forward, his hands clenching at his sides.

“I saw the way he looks at you. I know what he wants. And now you’re here, after ignoring me for days—what am I supposed to think?”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “That I’m here because I want to be with you.”

He flinches slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. “Then why does it feel like you’re here to break up with me?”

Your breath catches, anger flickering across your face. “It’s kind of hard to break up with someone you aren’t even dating.” You snap, running your hands through your hair as the words you had said only a few weeks ago ring into the silent room, your shoulder’s slumping forwards as you lock your eyes with Auston’s.

“I kissed Matthew.” You say softly, waiting for Auston’s spit fire words to slice through your but all the leaves him is an empty laugh.

“Of course you did — so you are breaking up with me?” He spits out, his arms crossing against his chest as his eyes soften the tiredness pulling you apart.

“It didn’t feel right.”

“What didn’t?”

“The kiss.” You explain, “It didn’t feel right because it wasn’t with you.” You watch as Auston’s eyebrows raise, the disbelief clear in his body language mimicking the hundreds of emotions flashing over his face, his arms falling from their tense posture to dangle by his sides.

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. Then, softer this time, Auston murmurs, “I don’t know what to do.” “I’ve never wanted to hold onto something this tight before and I’m so scared I’m going to lose you cause I didn’t realise how much I needed you until now.”

You take a tentative step forward, closing the distance between you. “You’re not losing me, Auston,” you step forwards keeping his eyes locked with yours as you continue. “But I can’t stay if you’re not going to let me in.”

His eyes search yours, desperate and uncertain. “Promise me.” He pauses, “Promise me you’ll stay, and you can have every part of me — everything is yours to keep.”

You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I promise.”

Auston exhales, like he’s finally letting go of the weight he’s been carrying. And when he pulls you against him, holding you close like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers, you let him—because, for once, you both need this.

#nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #auston matthews #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews smut #auston matthews fanfic #matthew knies #matthew knies fanfic #matthew knies smut #matthew knies x reader

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clovermoters · 10 hours ago

Text

we love, love day! ln4 x reader

summary - with a wedding on the way, lando makes sure this years valentine’s day is one you and him will remember forever.

warnings - fluff, small amount of smut towards the end (oral fem receiving) extremely established relationship, lando is a loverboy, extreme valentines adorableness. wc: 2.8k !!

a/n - happy love day loves! i hope u all enjoy this little fic i wrote for yous <3 id like to give a big big thank you to @landopoet for being my lovely proof reader/editor/person i bounce my ideas off of! anyways with love..enjoy 💗

February 4th 2025

the calm hum of the McLaren Technology Centre was quiet in the background of your boss going over the preseason marketing plans for the team.

your face rested on your palm as you fought the urge to fall asleep in your chair. you’ve been in meetings all day and all you want to do is go home and cuddle with your fiancé, who’s been texting you updates throughout his day off at home. receiving pictures of him on the couch watching movies and playing games with Max Fewtrell. his updates however, went radio silent during your previous meeting.

“and with that i’ll leave you to your assignments for the week, please email me if you have any questions or concerns, see you Sunday for our livery launch” your boss announces.

you swiftly pack up your supplies into the purse Lando had bought you for christmas mere months ago.

making your way towards the spot lando agreed to pick you up, your eye catches a mix of red and pink balloons tied together, next to them stood your loving fiancé holding a pink drink with a delicious looking cake pop sticking out of it, looking at you with a giddy smile.

“well hello to you too...” you eye your boyfriends cheeky look on his face as he hands you your drink. you take the cake pop out, revealing the simple sharpie writing on the plastic lid.

will you be my valentine? <3

you laugh softly looking up to see your boyfriends eyes. the hopeful look on his face makes your heart melt.

“lan, baby, we’re getting married in 4 months” you say with a giggle. the boy scoffs at you “oh i'm well aware love, but i still need to ASK you to be my valentine. it's how the holiday works, sweetheart!”

you smile taking a sip of the drink before reaching out to link your hand with Landos, giving him a soft peck on his lips. “of course i’ll be your valentine, my love”

Landos eyes sparkle, smiling from ear to ear as he gives a gentle fist pump to the air, whispering a playful “yes! let’s gooo!” under his breath before pulling you into a tender kiss. you giggle into his lips as he pulls you closer by the hips, your lips moving together in sync before you gently pull away, reminded that you left your planner on your desk.

“i'll just be a second.. i need to grab something from my desk quickly” you mumble into his lips

he nods “okay, i’ll wait here.” you turn on your heels, speedily navigating through the quiet office. it was getting late on a friday evening and you weren’t surprised to see others having already gone home to their families.

on your way out, you cross paths with your co-worker, she smiles at the drink in your hand.

“it’s sweet how he feels the need to ask his fiancé to be his valentine” she comments, your cheeks go pink as you gaze down at the cup in your hand. you try to memorize the scribbled sentence on the plastic, wondering what you did to deserve the man who’s currently waiting for you downstairs. “he just loves love,” you reply with a shy smile.

wishing her a lovely evening, you quickly make your return to find Lando holding your balloons while typing away at his phone. his face lights up at you, taking your hand in his.

you walk to his mclaren 765LT, your personal favourite car of his. he opens the door for you before rounding the car to get in himself.

“alright pretty girl, time to get my valentine home,” he adds playfully, starting the car. he leans over the console to place a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth before merging onto the country roads, taking you two home.

February 7th 2025

the soft stream of sunlight filtering through the curtains woke you up. you rolled over in your sheets expecting to find your sleeping fiancé next to you, only to be met with cold, pulled back sheets.

you frown, lando hadn’t mentioned going on a run this morning and your shared calendar hadn’t shown a meeting being scheduled. on a regular day, it’s rare for him to wake up first.

a pout forms on your face as the smell of maple syrup fills your senses. you sleepily make your way through the apartment. slippers shuffling across the hardwood floor, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you turn the corner into the kitchen.

there at the stove stood a shirtless Lando, his hair askew from sleep, grey sweatpants sat on his hips, he’s smiling back at you, spatula in hand.

your breath halts in your throat when you spot the table he had set. roses and other flowers placed strategically around the table for two, surrounded in a sea of orange and red flowers. the table already set with fruit and a variety of your favourite pastries. your heart squeezed at the thought of him taking the time to set this up.

“what is all this for?” you ask, hands fluttering softly against his back before gently wrapping your arms around his bare chest. Lando smiles, rocking you both side to side.

“can’t a guy treat his girl one week out from love day?” he asks, mocking offense. you giggle, turning to give a kiss to his back before lando spins around, leaning in to give you a sweet kiss on your lips.

“i’m just surprised you managed to do this all on your own,” you tease.

he chuckles “i did actually have to call my mum.” he admits “but it still tastes the same!”

February 11th 2025

Lando left for testing yesterday and you’ve been home alone. five years into your relationship you and Lando no longer felt the need to go to testing together. you spent your day puttering around the apartment cleaning and resetting your mind for landos return.

you’d been cleaning all day, reorganizing clothes, doing laundry and even venturing into landos office to clean his helmets. just after lunch you decided a nap would do you good. right before you decided to take yourself to your room, your phone chimes.

lan <3: hey love, just hopped out of the car. it feels great! how are you doing?

you smiled at his text, a picture attached of his sweaty post race face showing you a goofy smile.

gosh you already missed that face and it’s only been a day.

you: hi baby! i’ve cleaned so much i’m about to pass out, about to take a nap but i’m happy to see ur cute face before i sleep <3333

you sent a photo back of you poking your tongue out at the camera.

lan <3: aw there she is! love you baby, enjoy your nap, call me when your up xx

liking the message you click your phone off, placing it on the nightstand before getting comfortable in your bed. letting the sleep pull you into an essential nap.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the sun had moved through the sky when you woke, a pink glow flowing into the room. you sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. you felt well rested from your catnap, turning in your spot you catch the singular rose sat on the foot of the bed.

you scramble to your feet picking up the rose, examining it in your fingers. your look around your room slightly panicked, thinking someone broke in, you open the door to check the rest of the house.

swinging the door open you step out into the hallway, you feel a flutter at your feet, looking down you see a trail of rose petals. you gasp slightly, slowly following the flowers into the living room you stop in your tracks when the room is filled to the ceiling with bouquets of roses.

there were too many bouquets to count, you tried. you got to thirty before you gave up. moving to the kitchen where there were more bouquets to be found covering every surface there was.

placed in the middle of one of the bouquets was a letter, reading the envelope your stomach erupted to butterflies

my love

recognizing the handwriting was landos, you rip open the letter.

hey beautiful, i know i can't be home right now but i wanted to do something special because i love you more than words. 72 bouquets of roses for the 72 hours im away from you. see you soon pretty girl, i love you xx

L <3

flipping the card over you chuckled at the parting message

ps. max used his spare key to place these while you were asleep, i know you were probably worried about someone breaking in. he should still be outside if you wanna go say hi, love you, call me when you can!

you dashed to the front door, opening it to see a very disheveled max fewtrell stood on the other side. The man still had stray petals in his ruffled hair. you had to cover your mouth to muffle the giggles from escaping.

“lando promised me best man if i did this, you're an EXTREMELY heavily sleeper by the way” is all he says before raiding your fridge for leftover pizza, as you pick up your phone to ring the love of your life.

February 14th 2025

Lando woke up first again. the sunlight peeking through the curtains. he rolled over to find you sleeping soundly next to him, he couldn’t help but admire your peaceful state, you looked adorable with your face squished into the pillow.

he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before crawling out of bed. Today was the day he had planned down to a T. he spent the past two weeks waiting to shower you with his love.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

you stirred in your sleep to find Lando laying between your legs, soft kissing fluttering across your stomach, as he lifted your his shirt. You whimper softly when he sucks on the valley between your tits. your hips bucked as the heat between your legs grows.

“ ‘mmf- fuck lando” you moan when he trails kisses down your stomach, to settle between your thighs. licking his lips when he pulls your panties to the side. your core was dripping, Lando taking his fingers, spreading your wetness through your folds, praises falling from his lips as his nose brushed against your clit.

your hands found his curls, tugging softly to guide him through your folds, his tongue working wonders on every nerve ending. sending you dizzy.

Lando curled his fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot that had you like putty in his hands.

he loved seeing you like this, you looked angelic, eyes closed with your lips slightly parted. you tasted amazing, he groaned as he ate you out like a starved man. his tongue running up and down your folds, sucking on your clit while his fingers worked inside you.

“oh fuck…. lando!” you were a fucking mess above him, hardly able to form a sentence as you choke on moans. landos knees went weak at the noises you made, grinding slightly into the mattress to find from release. he relished in the sounds that tumbled from your lips just for him

“ come ‘for me baby, let me hear ya” he slurs into your folds, drunk on your taste.

the vibrations sending you over the edge as your finish on his face with a loud moan, your slick coating his goatee, lips puffy as he takes you through your orgasm.

you catch your breath as he places soft kisses on your clit, earning small whimpers as you come down from your high. you pull him away from your legs, his eyes blown out as he licks his lips before raising to place a sweet kiss on your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“happy valentines day gorgeous” he mumbles into your lips.

“happy valentines day lan” you reply sweetly. Lando switches to lie down next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. the two of you choosing to spend a few minutes tangled together before you get up to start your day.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

your first gift of the day was a basket filled with your favourite goodies, an array of chocolates and sweets overflowing a small crochet basket partnered with a small jellycat lando had seen you dot over when you two took a trip to the market last week. you had ooo-d and aww-d at the plushie for five minutes before deciding you don't need it.

he went back and bought it the next day.

you were ecstatic when you saw the jellycat, throwing your arms around his neck while a string of thank you’s fell from your lips right before attacking his face with kisses on every inch of his tanned skin.

he laughed, “don't thank me yet, you still have one more gift.”

you raise your eyebrow at him, he matches your expression playfully before pinching your hips. lifting you off him to stand up. he leans down slightly, his face coming close to yours.

“but that's for later,” he says with a wink.

your face flushes pink and he swiftly makes his way out the room, leaving you standing frozen at his boldness.

“c’mon baby! we gotta get going!” Lando shouts to you, like he didn’t just send shivers down your spine at his words

you spent the day hand in hand, walking through London drinking overpriced coffee with Lando carrying multiple designer shopping bags with your name on it. he loved spending his money on you, letting you waltz around a high-end store with him and his wallet in tow while he got to sit on comfy couches and watch a personal fashion show.

that's his favourite pastime.

the day was filled with love and kisses, even after years together every kiss felt as special as the first. Lando loved you the same way now as he did when you were twenty and following him around the world with lovestruck hearts in your eyes. when you stumbled back into the apartment, clothes slightly misplaced after a steamy car ride home. you prepared for dinner while Lando took a nap, letting you do your thing.

the dress you’d chosen for tonight was one of Lando’s favourites, light pink silk that hugs your body in all the right places. Landos eyes lit up when you walked out, him sporting a white button up shirt with the top few buttons undone.. just how you like it, and black slacks.

“wow…you look gorgeous” his eyes raked up and down your body as you applied your lip gloss.

“and you look handsome as ever” you say, placing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the restaurant was a small, italian, hole in the wall just outside of monaco. you and Lando adored dining here because you never had to worry about paparazzi, you could enjoy the company of each other during your meal.

you sat across from each other, your glass filled with some expensive scarlet wine while Lando nursed his whisky. he looked delicious, the dim lighting coating his tan skin like he was sent down from the gods just for you, chestnut curls tamed perfectly, matched with your favourite chain sitting on his neck.

your hands linked as he played with your engagement ring, your conversation casual as the waiter arrives with her notepad. Lando speaks up to order for the two of you

“she’ll have the fettuccine alfredo,” Lando points to you with a smile, “and I will have the penne marinara.” handing your menus off, you're left alone once again.

“now before food comes i want to give you one last gift” Lando speaks, reaching under the table, your browns knit in confusion as he places a small gift bag in front of you.

carefully pulling the tissue out of the bag a small jewelry box sits inside. your eyes meet Lando's and he's smiling back at you like you're the only girl in the room. “go on… open it,” he whispers with a slight nod.

inside the box sits a dainty silver necklace, tears prick your eyes as you touch the pendant. a small L with the number 4.

“lan.,” you sniffle “it's beautiful, thank you..” you take the necklace into your hands, immediately clasping it around your neck, getting up to give Lando a sweet kiss on the lips.

even after five years, and with his ring sitting on your finger, Lando loves to show the world, and you, that you are his and how much he loves you. he loves everything about you, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh, your home cooked meals that welcome him home after a race weekend. you had been his rock for years and will continue to be in for the rest of his life. He smiled watching you sit across from him, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“just think, next valentines day,” he leans forward slightly, “we're gonna be married!” he whispers excitedly like you were keeping a secret. you giggle at him, matching his excitement.

“i know, i'm worried that if you went all out this year, what's gonna happen next year when i'm your wife!?” you joke, he giggles, throwing his head back slightly as his chest shakes with laughter.

“don't underestimate me baby, i've already got plans.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

thank you for reading ahhh i hope u enjoyed

love ya see you soon (hopefully)

#formula 1 #lando norris fanfic #ln4 #lando x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando fluff #lando norris #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando smut #f1 smut #smut

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bears-sillybasement · 2 days ago

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ohoho! soo uhmm BIG POST Y'ALL. I guess I'll pin this so everyone gets a basic idea of my oc?..I LOOOOVE explaining everything I have of him so far..SO AM AM AM AM I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY IT??? MAYBE???

This is Bernadette!

(with and without his half-hood!)

Although Bernadette is a mostly feminine name, He chose the name himself after losing most of his childhood memories in a traumatic event.

"Bernadette" was the only word he remembered when he regained consciousness, so now he uses it for himself.

It's the only little thing from his past that he remembers with inexplicable affection.

About the hood..

This hood in the middle of his face is impossible to remove! This is because of a curse he received when putting it on.

Why? Well, it's a stolen hood. Most of the things Bernadette wears are stolen from ancient temples. All of them have an effect on him, but sadly for his desires none of them manages to actually kill him.

the facecards i made at 5am lol

It's actually weird to draw him looking straight ahead because he usually avoids looking at others, but I still made a version that way!

(I definitely didn't try very hard)

Basic (and unnecessary) information :3

Part of his design looks childish because he's a storyteller focused on children, his job is to look after and entertain most of them while their parents are busy!

Although he looks like someone chaotic or eccentric, actually has a love-hate relationship with attention. It's "fun" when others see him, but not for too long.

He likes people, as long as they don't get into his personal life. It's the same reason of why he has very, very few friends. He is very reserved with his stuff, in general. With everything.

For reasons he doesn't mention, he feels uncomfortable around small animals. He's afraid of hurting them.

he LOVES meat. except pork, he thinks it tastes like shit

Ironically, since he lives in Fontaine, he absolutely hates tea and calls it "just dirty water" (you all have the right to kill him)

but absolutely loves latte. extra sweet.

He was NOT BORN in Fontaine. His origins are something he doesn't like to talk about and barely remembers, but he lived his teenager days in the Sumeru desert

he's 20 years old now! (I should have put this sooner but I'm too lazy to fix it now lol)

Signature weapon

another stolen thing! haha, ha..never remind him of his half criminal days...

Even though its main function is as an axe, the tongue that sticks out of it is sticky..and can stretch out to help him move around, grab things (or others...)

Skills!

Right here it's my duty to thank all the mutuals who offered their OCs (blindly) for this!

I hope they like it :3

@cheeomi (thanks for ur oc!)

(Bernadette often lies to children saying that he eats the souls of those who the bear swallowed... he just likes to be dramatic.)

Something that needs to be made clear is that the bear is NOT ALIVE. It's an empty real skin coat, but a spirit lives inside.

One he knows very well..

inside the bear there's just a very strange emptiness, you're just trapped inside floating in a warm space. (so kohaku is fine, yei)

Although if you're an exorcist or someone sensitive to paranormal things, it may be a bit akward..

@scarameownya (thanks for ur oc!)

magic cape!!!!! another stolen thing!!!!

...But hey, if nobody caught you then it's yours, right?

This cape is quite peculiar, it can take you anywhere you want! real or not. although if you enter on your own it can take you to places in your mind that you don't want to see..

That's why you should not enter without permission or company!! Always ask its great, cool AND pretty owner!

Bernadette just uses it to move around places quickly. (Or hiding)

@chenyuvale (thanks for ur oc!)

Taking away the normal function of an axe, as I said, the tongue does its own thing! you can use it to move BUT it also can be used to leave people trapped.

For some reason the tongue drools..it's pretty gross when it gets stuck to the walls of the fontaine buildings!

But well um, Bernadette it's not going to clean that up.

@sylviegirly (thanks for ur oc!)

another way to get around! As you will notice, he doesn't usually walk much using his own feet..

Since what's inside the bear is a spirit, his ways of taking over the body are actually quite varied, and Bernadette uses them to his advantage...With his permission, of course!! (Just sometimes)

OOOFFF OKAY THAT'S ALL! for now..I hope it wasn't too much, I always wanted to do this kind of thing TvT It's not THAT bad

I'm SUPER sure I just typed something horribly wrong but...I really want to..sleep..haha..ha..

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traincat · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! I was rereading your fics and noticed that in Sticks and Stones you mentioned referencing Claremont's F4 run. Now it's haunting me because I can't find where their origin is brought up 🥲 So sorry if this has already been asked/answered, but perchance do you remember which issue it was 😅 (if not or even so, do you have any other good F4 origin moments?)

No worries, I've got you. It's a little hard to find if you don't know where to look.

This is a flashback from Fantastic Four v3 (1998) #11-12, which recontextualizes the crash and turns it into a horror story for more than just Ben. Claremont is really interesting as a Fantastic Four writer, and he loves thinking through the implications of Johnny's powers. Here, Johnny absorbed the heat from the shuttle crash, but he can't hold onto it and he goes Nova. The only reason he doesn't kill Reed and Sue accidentally is because Ben shields them with his rocky body. It's a really interesting interpretation because it sets up this dynamic between Ben and Johnny where they can fight with each other because they can't really physically hurt each other unless they're really trying. Ben has a degree of protection against Johnny's flames, and Johnny is fast and fiery. Claremont loves Johnny's powers, though, and he puts a ton of thought into what Johnny can and can't do with them. He also writes a very introspective Johnny. He's one of my top writers of all time for Johnny characterization.

(Just don't go into his run expecting the plot to make sense. It won't. But the characters are fun and the interactions are all really charming. He introduces three new female characters who are all great, too.)

In terms of Johnny's relationship to his powers -- specifically a negative relationship, not just the joy we usually see from him -- I also really recommend the Burn! storyline, which encompasses the first six issues of the Human Torch (2003) miniseries. It's kind of an origin story? It starts before Johnny goes to space with the others and then picks up after the crash, when he returns to high school suddenly not the loser weird kid. Fast forward a few years and his old high school enemy looks him up to ask for his help solving a series of mysterious murders involving the victims being burned alive. Fun stuff, really great ruminations on Johnny, his understanding of fire, and the amount of control he has to exert every day.

(Human Torch #3) You're going to have to put up with a lot of very early 2000s art. It's worth it.

Also not really an origin story but useful in understanding Johnny's origins is the Sue and Johnny power swap arc.

(FF #520) To save Sue's life, Reed swaps her powers with Johnny's, but the timing is pretty bad. Galactus takes Johnny as his herald, while Sue struggles with keeping Johnny's powers under control.

But okay, Fantastic Four origin stories, a crash course. This isn't totally comprehensive, just kind of a collection of my favorites and ones I find interesting.

Fantastic Four (1961) #1: The mother of all origin stories. Pretty one and done. We have to beat the commies to the moon! Cosmic rays! Shuttle crash! We've changed in horrible and fantastic ways! The world will never be the same! It's worth reading if you haven't read it before, but it's no Amazing Fantasy #15.

Byrne's retcon: Byrne doesn't particularly do anything interesting regarding the crash, but it's useful to know the changes he did make to the origin, because they were a point of contention for a long time. In Lee and Kirby's run, Sue and Reed are established as next door neighbors and childhood sweethearts. It's all very sweet. Byrne, though, LOVES an age gap with an older man and a younger woman. This is a theme you'll see repeatedly if you follow his work. Byrne retconned things so Reed first met Sue when he was renting a room at her aunt's house when he was in college and Sue was twelve. It's not great, but it does introduce the concept of Sue and Johnny living with their aunt after their father's incarceration. No run previously had ever mentioned such a thing. While the age gap was both immediately retconned out (Simonson did it as soon as he took the reins, establishing Reed and Sue as college friends, but it didn't stick) and eventually retconned out (Fraction retconned it so that Reed did stay at Aunt Marygay's boarding house but that Sue was over eighteen), the boarding house origin stuck. Not much to do with the actual "getting powers" aspect but interesting in terms of where Sue and Johnny were living when they met Reed and Ben.

Fantastic Four Mythos: Now we're cooking. Mythos is a beautifully illustrated oneshot retelling of how the Fantastic Four gained their powers. It's gorgeous, fun, and emotional. It's probably my second favorite origin story after Claremont's take.

Mythos posits that the emotional state the four were in at the time they were cosmically irradiated is responsible for their powers. Sue was trying to hide, Reed was trying to reach her, Ben was shielding Johnny, and all Johnny could think was that it was hot. It's an interesting interpretation. Sidenote, I'm pretty sure the new Fantastic Four movie is drawing inspiration from Mythos, just based on the visuals.

I love him so much. Idiot baby.

Fantastic Four: First Family: Oh boy where to go with this one. I don't dislike it, and I think it explores the origin in a much more realistic way, but I wouldn't say it's my favorite. First Family is a miniseries that takes a more grounded approach to the origin story. After the crash, the four are imprisoned on a military base as they adjust to their powers.

I think there's a lot of interesting ideas in this version, but I wouldn't really recommend it to any new readers as an origin story. I think it's more of an interesting way to examine things after you're already basically familiar with the FF's early days if you want to see a more grounded take on the origin.

Fantastic Four: Season One: Another miniseries retelling the origins. Is it good? Not particularly. Is it shiny? Yes. Does aged up Johnny work as a pinup model before the accident? Also yes.

It's giving the Chris Pine leather pants desert photoshoot. Again, not my first pick for an origin story by far, but if you want to read some mildly campy nonsense, you could do worse. If you don't want to read it, which is like, probably the smarter idea, please note that Johnny registered the domain name hottieonfire.com and that he's obsessed with the whale from the American Museum of Natural History. Samesies.

Ultimate Fantastic Four #1-5: This feels like the equivalent of going "want to make some bad decisions." Ultimate FF is NOT good. I know I've said that a hundred times. I've also read it a hundred times so who's the idiot now. I do think the origin is an interesting take on things, though, and like First Family it's more grounded in the exploitation of the Fantastic Four by the military. So not good, wouldn't recommend it as baby's first Fantastic Four origin, but not completely not worth reading.

Origin stories I don't recommend:

Fantastic Four v2 (1996): This is when the FF got bubble universed. It's basically a retelling of the early days that doesn't add anything new or interesting.

Fantastic Four: Life Story: Life Story was an interesting experiment. The idea was to have a six issue miniseries where each issue took place during a specific decade -- issue #1 would be the 60s, #2 would be the 70s, etc -- moving the characters through those decades aging in real time and dealing with both the major storylines of those decades as well as the real world events that were happening. Like I said, interesting experiment. The actual comics, though, and I'm counting the Spider-Man one here too, were bad. Like so bad. I'm going to give you the only thing of note in it here and then you don't have to read it. (Don't let this fool you into thinking the rest of the comic is progressive in any way; the writer decided Jewish Ben should say pork was "the food of the Gods" and also that Romani Dr. Doom should put people in concentration camps. Whole yikes.)

(FF Life Story #2) That figure sitting in bed with Johnny sure looks like a guy. Interestingly, for your value of interesting, "perpetual bachelor" Johnny dies in 1986 in issue #4, and issue #5 immediately opens with T'Challa creating a cure for AIDS. Take that one as you will.

One final kind of a rec. This isn't really an origin story for the Fantastic Four as characters, but rather a retrospective meta take on the creation of the Fantastic Four as a series. Fantastic Four: Unstable Molecules is an Eisner winning miniseries dedicated to the fictionalized "real people" who inspired the Fantastic Four, positing that one night at a dinner party on Long Island, two comic book creators encountered a family fight so epic it inspired them to create a comic book. Deeply introspective, it's take on Johnny and the Mole Man (yes really) really shines.

(Unstable Molecules #3) Sorry to turn this into a "Johnny is flaming" discussion once again. It just kind of comes up naturally when you look at his origin stories.

#johnny storm #marvel comics #traincat talks comics #*replies #long post/#this is probably more than you wanted to know sorry!!

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nameless-jamie · 15 hours ago

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Hiiiiii, we got Jamie's birthday, can we get PA's?

Shoebox

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

A/N: I love it! Have been thinking about this hard and wanted to do this in a very emotional way because I felt like PA is a person that wants nobody to know her birthday.

TW: cursing, innuendos, fluff

Jamie Tartt doesn’t remember dates.

He barely remembers his own birthday half the time, much less anyone else’s. Anniversaries? Forget it. Holidays? Only when someone reminds him. It’s never been his thing.

That's why he has Y/N, his personal assistant, to remember them for him.

So when he glances at Y/N’s phone screen—purely by accident, obviously—and sees a message from her mum saying, Happy early birthday, love. Hope you have a lovely day tomorrow—he has to read it twice.

Tomorrow?

His gaze flickers to Y/N, who is sitting on the other end of the couch, legs curled up, scrolling through something on her laptop. She doesn’t react. Doesn’t so much as blink at her phone. No excitement, no mention of plans.

And that’s when Jamie realizes—she’s keeping it a secret. She's keeping her birthday a secret.

He doesn’t understand why. Y/N is the most organized person he knows. She’s the one who reminds him of every single birthday, arranges gifts for his teammates when he forgets, keeps track of every little thing. But her own birthday? She’s just… ignoring it?

Jamie locks his jaw, turning his attention back to the telly, pretending like he didn’t see a thing.

But he did. And now it’s rattling around in his head, sticking there like a song he can’t get rid of.

That night, Jamie lies in bed, staring at the ceiling.

He could just say something.

But if she wanted people to know, she would have told him.

So instead, he does something different—something that makes his heart hammer against his ribs.

He gets up, pulls out the shoebox from the top of his closet, and dumps the contents onto his bed.

A mess of ticket stubs, polaroids, receipts, and random scraps of paper falls out. He sifts through them, picking up a blurry photo of them at a team dinner, a crumpled note she had once left on his gym bag (Don’t be late today, Tartt. I mean it.), a matchday program where she had circled his name in blue ink.

Jamie doesn’t know why he’s kept these things. He’s never been sentimental like that.

But somehow, without even realizing it, he’s been keeping her.

The next day, Jamie acts normal.

Or at least, he tries to.

It’s harder than he expects. Every time he looks at her, he wants to say something. But he doesn’t. Instead, he pays extra attention—watching for any sign that she might, at the very least, acknowledge her own birthday.

Nothing.

No one at the club knows. No one wishes her. She doesn’t act any different.

And for some reason, it pisses him off.

At lunch, he slides into the seat next to her, nudging her arm. "You, uh, doin’ anything later?"

She shakes her head. "Nah. Just gonna go home."

Jamie frowns. "Borin'. "

She huffs a quiet laugh. "Not everyone needs to be constantly entertained, Jamie."

"Yeah, but—" He stops himself. Shrugs. "Dunno. Just seems like a waste of uhm— day."

She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. "What do you mean? Why are you being weird?"

"I’m not."

"You are."

"Oi, shut up."

She laughs, shaking her head, and Jamie forces himself to act like it’s just another day.

But it isn’t.

That evening, Y/N comes home to find a small, wrapped package sitting on her coffee table.

There’s no note. No indication of who left it.

Frowning, she picks it up, carefully peeling back the paper.

Inside is a shoebox filled with random stuff.

She stills, fingers tracing over the outside of the box, heart pounding for reasons she doesn’t quite understand. Slowly, she skims through the contents—and her breath catches in her throat.

It’s them.

Photo after photo, little notes, ticket stubs from games they attended together, receipts from coffee shops where they’d sat for hours going over Jamie's schedule. There’s a picture of her laughing at something stupid he’d said, a doodle he’d made on a napkin that she had long forgotten about, a torn page from an old match program where he had scribbled, bet you a tenner I score today (and she had, indeed, owed him ten quid after that game).

She swallows hard.

Near the bottom of the box, in Jamie’s unmistakable handwriting, there’s a note.

"Dunno why you don’t tell people it’s your birthday. But I remember things when they matter."

Her breath catches.

Because Jamie Tartt doesn’t remember birthdays. He doesn’t remember dates.

But somehow—somehow—he remembered hers.

The knock on her door comes late.

Too late for anyone but him.

She opens it to find Jamie standing there, hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

"Hey."

She blinks at him, still holding the shoebox in her hands. "Jamie, did you—?"

"Like it?" He grins, but there’s something softer behind it. "Spent fuckin’ ages collecting that stuff, y’know."

She lets out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. "Jamie, I—"

"You don’t have to say anythin’," he interrupts, then gestures behind him. "But, uh, you do have to come with me."

She raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

His smirk deepens. "You’ll see."

She should say no. She should protest, tell him she doesn’t want a big deal made out of today.

But she doesn’t.

Because Jamie Tartt, of all people, remembered.

And for once, she thinks, maybe her birthday is something worth celebrating.

Y/N stares at Jamie for a long second, her fingers tightening around the shoebox.

He’s grinning at her like he hasn’t just completely dismantled her entire sense of reality—like he hasn’t just remembered something she never even told him.

She wants to ask how he found out. Wants to ask why he went through the effort when he forgets literally everyone else’s birthdays.

But instead, she exhales, tilts her head, and says, “You’re not gonna tell me where we’re going, are you?”

Jamie smirks. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She doesn’t protest when he leads her outside. Doesn’t roll her eyes when he opens the car door for her with an exaggerated flourish. Doesn’t even question the way he hums under his breath as he drives—some aimless tune, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel in time with the rhythm.

It’s… nice.

Too nice.

Because Jamie Tartt has always been in her life like a storm—loud and chaotic and everywhere all at once. But this? This is different. It’s steady. Purposeful.

And that’s what scares her.

They don’t talk much as he drives. He makes a few comments about some knob on the pitch today, how Roy nearly had an aneurysm over something someone did in training. She nods, hums in agreement, but her mind is elsewhere.

Because no matter how hard she tries to focus on the words coming out of his mouth, her gaze keeps drifting back to the shoebox in her lap.

Jamie had kept all of this.

Ticket stubs, stupid notes, photos she didn’t even know existed.

She doesn’t know what to do with that.

Doesn’t know what it means.

But before she can spiral too hard, Jamie pulls up in front of a familiar place.

Her brows furrow. “The Dogtrack?”

Jamie flashes her a grin, hopping out of the car. “C’mon.”

She follows him, still utterly lost. It’s dark, but the entrance is lit up. The usual bustling energy of match days is missing, the stadium eerily quiet.

Jamie pushes open the door and gestures for her to step inside. “After you.”

She gives him a suspicious look but walks in.

And stops dead.

Because standing there—right in the middle of the locker room—is the entire AFC Richmond team.

And they’re all grinning at her.

There’s a giant “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” banner hanging from the ceiling, a table filled with snacks and a cake, and—oh god, is that Roy Kent wearing a bloody party hat?

There’s a beat of stunned silence before Keeley comes bounding over, throwing her arms around her.

“Happy birthday, babe! Jamie said you were trying to be all sneaky about it, but absolutely not.”

She barely has time to process that before she’s being passed from person to person—Rebecca giving her a warm hug, Sam beaming at her, Dani nearly lifting her off the ground in excitement.

She hears Isaac loudly exclaim, “Wait, I knew we were missin’ someone’s birthday this month!”

Colin laughs. “Mate, you did not.”

In the middle of it all, Jamie watches her.

She meets his eyes across the room, her heart hammering in her chest.

He doesn’t say anything. Just smirks and nods toward the table like go on, then.

And Y/N, for the first time in a long time, thinks that maybe—just maybe—her birthday is something worth celebrating after all.

The party is chaos.

Good chaos, the kind she never would have planned for herself but can’t help smiling at. The team is in full celebration mode—Dani is leading a conga line around the locker room, Sam is passionately debating cake flavors with Rebecca, and Roy has miraculously kept the party hat on despite muttering curses under his breath every time someone points it out.

Y/N lets herself enjoy it. She laughs when Colin hands her a drink, shakes her head fondly when Keeley insists on taking selfies with her, and even joins in when Isaac starts up some ridiculous drinking game involving half the squad and an alarming amount of tequila.

But eventually, it all becomes a lot.

Not in a bad way, just in an overwhelming way.

So she quietly slips outside.

The air is cool against her skin, a welcome contrast to the warmth inside. She leans against the railing overlooking the training pitch, letting out a slow breath.

She still doesn’t know how to process all of this.

Jamie—who forgets every birthday, who once confidently said the Queen’s Jubilee was in March—had remembered hers. And not just remembered. He had planned.

And the shoebox…

Her fingers tighten around the railing.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there before she hears the door open behind her.

Footsteps. Familiar ones.

Then Jamie’s voice, soft but teasing. “Oi. You ditchin’ your own party?”

She huffs a laugh but doesn’t turn around. “Just needed some air.”

A beat of silence. Then, “Too much?”

She finally glances over her shoulder. Jamie is standing there, hands in his pockets, watching her with that unreadable expression of his—the one that isn’t quite cocky, isn’t quite soft, but somewhere in between.

She exhales. “A little.”

He nods like he understands, stepping up beside her. They stand there for a moment, the sounds of the party muffled behind them, the cool night air settling around them.

Then, quietly, she says, “Thank you.”

Jamie tilts his head. “For what?”

She turns to face him fully now, and god, he’s so close. Close enough that she can see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, like he doesn’t quite know how to respond.

“For everything,” she says, voice softer now. “For remembering. For the shoebox. For… all of this.” She gestures toward the stadium.

Jamie shifts on his feet, like he’s trying to play it cool, but there’s something vulnerable in the way he rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. You were bein’ a right weirdo about it, keepin’ it a secret and all.”

She smiles. “I just don’t really celebrate it.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he murmurs, watching her carefully. “Just thought… dunno. Maybe this year, you should.”

Her throat feels tight.

Because Jamie Tartt—who is meant to be selfish, who is meant to be thoughtless—has seen her in a way no one else has.

She doesn’t know what to say.

So she doesn’t say anything.

Instead, she steps forward and wraps her arms around him.

Jamie stills for half a second before his arms come around her in return, pulling her in. He smells like expensive cologne and whatever shampoo he swears by, and his body is solid and warm against hers.

But then—just as she thinks about pulling away—Jamie shifts.

And suddenly, his arms tighten, and he tugs her even closer, pressing his forehead to the top of her head.

Her heart pounds.

Slowly, his hands move—one settling on her waist, the other slipping up her back.

Then, just when she thinks she’s hit her limit of feeling too much, Jamie shifts again—this time turning her towards the pitch and hugging her from behind, resting his chin against her shoulder, his chest pressing into her back, his arms locked around her like he’s keeping her there.

She swallows hard.

“D’you like it?” he murmurs against her skin.

She closes her eyes. “Yeah.”

Jamie exhales, his breath warm against her. “Good.”

Jamie’s expression shifts, something warmer settling in his eyes.

And then, because she can’t let him have the last word, she smirks. “But, y’know… If I wouldn't have liked it there would always be your plan B present..”

Jamie frowns, confused. “What?”

She bites back a grin, tilting her head at him. “Jamie, I distinctly remember you saying on your birthday that your dream present was me, wrapped in only a bow. What if I wanted the same?”

Jamie blinks.

Then, his lips part, and something dangerous flickers across his face.

“Can be arranged,” he says smoothly.

Y/N snorts, shoving his arm. “Oh, shut up.”

Jamie laughs, but there’s a look in his eyes—one that’s both playful and something else, something deeper.

Something she doesn’t know what to do with.

They stay like that for a long time.

Long enough for the noise of the party to fade into the background. Long enough for her to forget anything else exists.

Just her.

And Jamie.

And this.

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #afc richmond #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #roy kent #sam obisanya #PA x Jamie Tartt

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