#there could have been… more to it? I guess?

[thepencilnerd]

When the Sun Hits

summary: What begins as a hospital-wide power outage leaves you trapped in a supply closet with your emotionally unavailable attending. But when the lights come back on, what lingers between you can’t be shut off so easily. genre/notes: forced proximity, slow burn, panic attack + trauma comfort, domestic fluff, my fave kind of intimacy, mutual pining, humor/crack, soft!Jack that can't flirt for shit, idiots in love but neither of them will admit it, you discover you have a praise kink in the most inconvenient of ways, jack abbot on his knees—literally warnings: references to trauma, depiction of a panic attack, mentions of grief and burnout, implied but not explicit smut word count: ~ 7.2k a/n: down bad for whipped Jack Abbot. p.s., thank you to everyone who reblogs/replies/takes the time to read my brain vomit, i appreciate you more than you know ㅠㅠ <3

You had just turned to ask Jack if he could grab another tray of 32 French chest tubes when the lights cut out.

One second, the supply closet was bathed in its usual flickering overhead light—and the next, everything dropped into darkness. Sharp. Sudden.

You froze, one hand on the bin. Jack swore behind you.

"Shit," he muttered, somewhere just inside the door. The backup emergency lights flickered red from the hallway, but barely touched the cramped space around you.

Then the intercom crackled overhead: Code Yellow. Facility-wide outage. All staff remain on current floors. Secure all medications and patients.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Automatic lock.

You turned just as Jack tried the handle. It didn’t budge.

He sighed. "Well. That’s one way to guarantee a five-minute break."

You looked at him sharply, but he was already scanning the room, looking for anything useful, keeping his voice light.

"Guess we’re stuck for a bit," he added.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The air felt too tight in your lungs, too warm all of a sudden.

Because now, the supply closet didn’t just feel small.

It felt like it was closing in.

It had been a normal day.

Or as normal as anything ever was around here—high-pressure shifts balanced by the strange rhythm you and Jack had settled into over the past few years. You worked together well—efficient, quick to anticipate each other's needs, almost telepathic during traumas. Partners in crime, someone had once joked. Probably Robby.

You’d learned how to read his silences—the kind that weren’t dismissive but deliberate, like he was giving you space without needing to say it aloud. He’d learned how to decode your muttered curses and side glances, how to step in behind you without crowding, how to let his shoulder bump yours during charting when words failed you both.

There was a kind of ease between you, a rhythm that didn’t require explanation. He’d hand you tools before you asked for them. You’d finish his sentences when he gave consults. Even in chaos, your partnership felt oddly... quiet. Intimate, in a way that crept in slowly, like warmth from a mug clasped between two hands after a long shift.

When you were paired on trauma, nurses and med students stopped asking who was lead. They knew you moved as one.

People had started to notice—how the two of you always seemed to stay overtime on the same days, how Jack would make dry, cutting jokes around others but soften them just enough when talking to you. Robby, in particular, teased him about it relentlessly.

"Jack, blink twice if this is you flirting," he’d once called across the ER after Jack mumbled, "Great work Dr. L/N," while watching you tie off a flawless stitch or nailing a differential.

Jack huffed. "It’s efficient. She's efficient."

"God, you’re hopeless," Robby laughed.

"She’s my best resident," Jack shot back, like it explained everything. Like it wasn’t a deflection.

You snorted into your coffee. "You say that like it’s not the fifth time this week."

Jack, without missing a beat: "That’s because it’s true. I value consistency."

He was awful at flirting—stiff and dry and chronically understated—but you’d grown to read the fondness buried in the flat delivery.

Like the morning he handed you your favorite protein bar without a word and then said, as you blinked at him, "Don’t faint. You’ll ruin my numbers."

Or the time he stood outside your call room after a brutal night shift, coffee in hand, and muttered, "You deserve a nap, but I guess you’ll have to settle for caffeine and my sparkling company."

He always made sure to loop you in on the interesting cases—"Figure it’s good for your development," he’d say. But then linger just a little too long after rounds, just to hear your thoughts.

And when you were quiet too long, when something in you withdrew, he never asked outright. Just gave you space—and a clipboard he’d pre-filled, or a shift swap you hadn’t requested, or the gentlest, "You good?" when you passed each other by the scrub sinks.

And now, here you were. Trapped in a closet with the man who rarely made jokes—and never blushed—except when you were around.

Now, you were stuck. Together.

The air felt thin but simultaneously stuffed to the brim.

Jack turned on his penlight, sweeping the beam across the room. "We’re fine," he said, calm and certain. "Generator will kick in soon."

You nodded. Tried to match his steadiness. Failed.

The closet was small. Smaller than it had ever felt before.

The walls crept in.

You didn’t notice the way your hands started to shake until he said your name.

Your vision tunneled. The room blurred at the edges, corners shrinking in like someone was folding the walls inward. The air felt heavy, every breath catching at the top of your throat before it could sink deep enough to matter. It felt like someone had filled your veins with liquid lead, your entire body suddenly weighing too much to hold upright. You staggered back a step, hand scrambling blindly for something to anchor you—shelf, handle, Jack. Your heart was pounding—loud, ragged, out of sync with time itself.

You tried to swallow. Couldn’t.

Sweat prickled your scalp. Your fingers tingled, every nerve on fire. Your knees gave out beneath you, and you crumbled to the floor—head buried between your knees, hands clasped behind your neck, trying to fold yourself into a singularity. Anything to disappear. Anything to slip away from this moment and the way it pressed in on all sides. There was no exit. No sound but your own spiraling thoughts and the slow, careful way Jack said your name again.

You blinked. Your eyes wouldn’t focus.

"Hey," Jack coaxed, his voice cutting through the static—low and steady, somehow still distant. His full attention was on you now, gaze locked in, unmoving. "Breathe."

You couldn’t.

It hit like a wave—sharp and silent, rising in your chest like pressure, no space, no air, no exit.

Jack’s hands found your shoulders. "I’ve got you. You’re okay. Stay with me, yeah?"

He crouched in front of you, grounding you with steady pressure and careful, deliberate calm. His hands—firm, callused, the kind that had seen years of split-second decisions and endless sutures—gripped your upper arms with a touch that was impossibly gentle. Like he could mold you back into yourself with his palms alone. His thumbs brushed lightly, not demanding, just present. Just there.

"Can you breathe with me?" he asked. "In for four. Okay? One, two, three…"

You tried. You really did.

Your chest still felt locked, ribs tight around panic like a vice, but his voice—low and even—threaded through the chaos.

"Out for four," he murmured, exhaling slowly, deliberately, like the sound alone could show your body how to follow. "Good. Just like that."

The faint light dimmed between you, casting his face in half-shadow. He was close now—close enough for you to catch the scent of antiseptic and something warm underneath, something that reminded you of winter nights and clean laundry.

"You’re here," he said again, softer this time. "You’re safe. Nothing’s coming. You’ve got space."

You reached out blindly, fingers finding the edge of his sleeve and clutching it like a lifeline.

"Good girl," Jack said softly, instinctively, like it slipped out without permission.

Your brain short-circuited. Of all things, in all moments—that was what hooked your attention. You let out a strangled little laugh, shaky and almost hysterical. "Fucking hell," you murmured, pressing your face into your arm. "Why is that what got me breathing again?"

Jack blinked, startled for a second—then let out the smallest huff of relief, like he was holding back a smirk. "Hey, if it works, I’ll say it again," he said, a thread of warmth sneaking into his voice.

You groaned, half-burying your face in your elbow. "Please don’t."

He was still crouched in front of you, his tone gentler now, teasing on purpose, like he was giving you something else to hold onto. "Admit it—you just wanted to hear me say something nice for once."

"Jack," you warned, half-laughing, half-crying.

"You’re doing great," he said quietly, real again. "You’re okay. I’ve got you."

And eventually���one shaky inhale at a time—your lungs obeyed.

When the power came back on, you stood side-by-side in the wash of fluorescent light, blinking against it.

You were still trembling faintly, your breaths shallow but more even now. Jack didn’t step away. Not right away.

"Feeling better?" he asked, voice low, steady.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

Jack stood slowly, offering a hand. You took it, letting him pull you up. His grip lingered just a second longer than necessary.

Then he tried, awkwardly, to lighten the mood. "If calling you a good girl was really all it took, then I’ve been severely underutilizing my motivational toolkit."

You let out a startled laugh, breath catching mid-sound. "Jesus, don’t start."

He gave you a crooked smile—relieved, even if the corners of it were still tight with concern. "Whatever works, right? Next time I’ll try it with more enthusiasm."

"Next time?" Your eyes widened like saucers—absolutely flabbergasted, half-tempted to dissolve into laughter or hit him with the nearest supply tray.

He shrugged, another smug grin threatening to cross his lips. "Just saying. If you’re going to unravel in a closet, might as well do it with someone who knows where to find the defibrillator."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t let go of his hand until the light flickered again.

Only then did you both step apart.

You didn’t say much.

He didn’t ask you to.

You’d made it as far as the locker room before the adrenaline crash hit. You rinsed your face, changed into sweats, and shoved your scrubs into your bag with trembling fingers. Jack had walked you out of the department without a word, just a hand hovering near your lower back.

"Thanks," you said quietly, as you scanned out. "For earlier."

Jack shook his head, like it was nothing. "You don’t need to thank me."

"Still," you said. "Just… please don’t mention it to anyone?"

He looked over at you, mouth twitching at the corner. "Mention what?"

That made you laugh—brief, breathless. "Right."

You parted ways near the waiting room, sharing your usual post-shift goodbyes.

Or so you thought.

Jack had been about to leave when he saw you—doubling back through the double doors, slipping through the staff-only entrance and back into the ER.

His brow furrowed.

He hesitated, then turned to follow.

The corridor was quiet. Most of the day shift hadn’t arrived yet, and the call room hallway echoed faintly under his footsteps. He paused outside the on-call room and knocked once, gently. When there was no response, he eased the door open.

The room was cramped and windowless, just enough space for a narrow bunk bed and a scuffed metal chair in the corner. The mattress dipped in the middle, the kind of sag that never quite let you forget your own weight. The attached bathroom offered a stall that barely passed for a shower—low pressure, eternally lukewarm, and loud enough to make you question whether it was working or crying for help. It felt more like a last resort than a place to rest.

Your bag was on the bed. Half-unpacked. Toothbrush laid out. Socks tucked into the corner. Like you were staying in a hotel. Like you’d been staying here.

He was still standing there when the bathroom door cracked open and you stepped out—hair damp, towel knotted tightly around your torso.

You both froze.

Your eyes widened. Jack’s went comically wide before he spun around on instinct, shielding his eyes like it was second nature. "Shit—sorry, I didn’t—"

"What are you doing here?" you asked at the exact same time he blurted, "What are you doing here?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Jack cleared his throat, ears bright red. "I… saw you come back in. Just wanted to check."

You were still standing in place like a deer in headlights, towel clutched in a death grip.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, eyes very pointedly still on the wall, as if the peeling paint had suddenly become the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

Fingers clenched around the edge of the towel, embarrassment prickled across your chest like static. "One second," you murmured, disappearing back into the bathroom before either of you could say anything more.

A minute later, the door creaked open and you stepped out again—now wrapped in an oversized hoodie and soft, baggy sweatpants that made you look small, almost swallowed whole by comfort. Jack’s brain did something deeply inconvenient at the sight.

You lingered in the doorway, sleeves tugged down over your hands, damp hair framing your face. "You can look now," you said, voice softer this time.

Jack didn’t move at first. He shifted his weight, cleared his throat in a way that sounded more like a stall tactic than anything physiological. Only after a beat did he finally turn, cautiously, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

He caught himself staring. Made a mental note not to think about it later. Failed almost immediately.

A breath left your lungs, quieter than the room deserved. You crossed to the bunk and sat down on the edge, fingers fidgeting with the seam of your sweatpants. "You can sit, if you want," you said, barely above a whisper.

The mattress shifted a second later as Jack lowered himself beside you, careful, slow—like he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to get. His knee brushed yours. He didn’t move it. You didn't pull away. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, a long exhale dragging out of you like it had been caught behind your ribs all night. "I’ve been staying here," you said finally. "Not every night. Just... enough of them."

You looked over at him, then down at your hands. "It’s not about work. I just... I didn’t want to go back to an empty place and hear it echo. Didn’t want to hear myself think. Breathe. This place—at least there’s always noise. Even if it’s bad, it’s something."

That made him pause.

"I don’t want to be alone..." you added, quieter.

Jack was quiet for a moment, then nodded once, slow. "Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked, voice quieter than before. "You know I’m always here for you."

You looked down at your lap. "I didn’t want to be a burden."

Your fingers twitched, and before you realized it, you’d started picking at a loose thread along your cuff. Jack’s hands came up gently, catching yours before you could do more than graze your skin. He held them between his palms—warm, steady. Soothing.

His thumbs brushed over your knuckles. "You never have to earn being cared about," he said softly. "Not with me."

A few moments passed in silence. He still hadn’t let go of your hand.

Then, quietly, Jack reached into his pocket.

And handed you a key.

"I have a spare room," he said, voice low. "No expectations. No questions. Just… if you need it."

You stared at the key. Then at him.

He still didn’t look away, even as his voice gentled. "Don’t sleep here. Not if it hurts."

You took the key.

Not right away—but you did. Slipped it into the front pocket of your hoodie like it might vanish otherwise, like the metal might burn a hole through the fabric if you held it too long.

Jack didn’t press. Didn’t ask for promises.

He stood to leave and paused in the doorway.

"I’ll leave the light on," he said. "Just in case."

You didn’t answer right away. Just nodded, barely, and stared at the key in your lap long after the door shut behind him.

The call room was quiet after he left.

Too quiet.

You stared at the key until your fingers itched, then tucked it beneath your pillow like it needed protecting—from you, from the space, from the hollow echo of loneliness that filled the room once Jack was gone.

You didn’t sleep that night. Not really.

And two days later—after another long shift, after you’d showered in the same miserable excuse for plumbing, after you’d sat cross-legged on the cot trying to convince yourself to just go home—you took the key out of your pocket.

You didn’t text him.

You just went.

The last time you'd been to his place was different. Less quiet. More raw.

It was the night after a shift that left the entire ER shell-shocked. You'd both ended up at Jack’s apartment with takeout containers and too much to drink. You’d lost a kid—ten years old, blunt trauma, thirty-eight minutes of resuscitation, and it still wasn’t enough. Jack had lost a veteran. OD. The kind of case that stuck to his ribs.

He’d handed you a beer without a word. The two of you had sat on opposite ends of his couch, silence stretching between you like a third presence until you broke it with a hoarse, "I keep hearing his mother scream."

Jack didn’t look away. "I keep thinking I should’ve caught it sooner."

The conversation didn’t get lighter. But it got easier.

At some point, you’d both ended up sitting on the floor, backs against the couch, knees bent and shoulders almost brushing.

He told you about Iraq. About the first time he held pressure on someone’s chest and knew it wouldn’t matter.

You told him about your first code as an intern and the way it rewired something you’ve never quite gotten back.

He didn’t touch you. Didn’t need to. Just passed you another drink and said, "I’m glad you were there today."

And for a while, it was enough—being there, even if neither of you knew how to say why.

You’d gotten absolutely wasted that night. The kind of drunk that swung from giggles to tears and back again. Somewhere between your third drink and fourth emotional whiplash, you started dancing around his living room barefoot, music crackling from his ancient Bluetooth speaker. Tears for Fears was playing—Everybody Wants to Rule the World—and you twirled with your arms raised like the only way to survive grief was to outpace it.

Jack watched from the floor, amused. Smiling to himself. Maybe a little enamored.

You beckoned him up with exaggerated jazz hands. "C’mon, dance with me."

He shook his head, raising both palms. "No one needs to see that."

You marched over, grabbed his hands, and tugged hard enough to get him upright. He stumbled, laughing under his breath, and let you spin him like a carousel horse. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t even really dancing. But it was you—vivid and loud and alive—and something in him ached with the sight of it.

He didn’t say anything that night.

But the way he looked at you said enough.

You were still holding his hands from the dance, your breathing slowing, your laughter softening into something tender. The overhead light had gone dim, the playlist shifting into quieter melodies, but you didn’t let go. Your fingers stayed laced behind his neck, your forehead nearly resting against his chest.

Jack’s palms found your waist—not possessive, just steady. Grounding. His thumbs pressed gently against your sides, and for a moment, you swayed in place like the world wasn’t full of ghosts. You were sobering up, but not rushing. Not running.

You hadn’t meant for the dance to turn into this. But he didn’t step away.

Didn’t look away either.

Just held you, as if the act itself might keep you both tethered to something real.

You woke the next morning to the sound of soft clinking—metal against ceramic, a pan being set down gently on the stovetop.

The smell of coffee drifted in first. Then eggs. Something buttery. Your head pounded—dull, insistent—but your body felt warm under the blanket someone had pulled up around your shoulders during the night.

Padding quietly down the hall, you peeked into the kitchen.

Jack stood at the stove, hair ever so slightly tousled from sleep, wearing the same faded t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants that made your chest ache with something you couldn’t name. He hadn’t seen you yet—was humming under his breath, absently stirring a pan with practiced rhythm.

You leaned against the doorframe.

"Are you seriously making breakfast?"

He turned, eyes crinkling. "You say that like it’s not a medically necessary intervention."

You snorted, stepping in. "You’re using a cast iron. I didn’t even know you owned one."

"Don’t tell Robby. He thinks I survive on rage and vending machine coffee."

You slid onto one of the stools, blinking blearily against the light. Jack set a mug in front of you without being asked—just the way you liked it. Just like always.

"You were a menace last night," he said lightly, pouring eggs into the pan.

You groaned, cupping your hands around the mug. "Oh god. Please don’t recap."

He grinned. "No promises. But the dance moves were impressive. You almost took me out during that one twirl."

"That’s because you wouldn’t dance with me!"

"I was trying to protect my knees."

You laughed, head tipping back slightly. Jack just watched you, eyes soft, like the sound of it made something settle inside him.

And for a moment, the silence that settled between you wasn’t hollow at all.

It was full.

If only tonight's circumstances were different. 

Jack opened the door in sweatpants and a black v-neck that looked older than his medical degree. He blinked when he saw you—then smiled, just a little. Not wide. Not obvious. But real. The kind of expression that said he hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted to see you until you were there.

He said nothing.

After a slow smile: "Didn’t expect to see you again so soon," he said lightly, trying to break the ice. "Unless you’re here to critique my towel-folding technique."

Lifting your hand slowly, the key warm against your skin, you tilted your head with a deadpan expression. "Wouldn’t dream of it," you said, tone dry—almost too dry—but not quite hiding the twitch of a smile. Jack’s mouth quirked at the corner.

Then you held the key out fully, and he stepped aside without a word.

"Spare room’s on the left," he said. “Bathroom’s across from it. The towels are clean. I think."

You smiled, a little helplessly. "Thanks."

Jack’s voice was soft behind you. "That was a joke, by the way. The towel thing."

You turned slightly. "What?"

He shrugged, almost sheepish. "Trying to lighten the mood," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but at you. "Make it... easier. Or, y'know. Less weird. That was the goal."

The admission caught you off guard. Jack Abbot had a tendency to ramble when he was nervous, and this was definitely that.

You didn’t say anything right away, but your smile—this time—was a little steadier. A little sweeter.

"Careful, Jack," you murmured, feigning seriousness. "If you keep being charming, I might start expecting it."

He looked like he wanted to say something else. His mouth opened, then closed again as he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly debating whether to double down or play it cool.

"Guess I’ll go work on my stand-up material," he mumbled, half under his breath.

You bit back a laugh.

He ran a hand through his hair again—classic stall tactic—then finally nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

The room he offered you was small, clearly unused, but tidy in a way that suggested recent care. A folded towel sat at the foot of the bed. A new toothbrush—still in its packaging—rested on the nightstand. The faint scent of cedar lingered in the air, mixing with the soft clean trace of his detergent. The air had that faint freshness of a recently opened window, and the corners were free of dust. Someone had aired it out. Someone had taken the time to make space—room that hadn’t existed before, cleared just enough to let another person in.

You set your bag down and sat on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing over the blanket. Everything felt soft. Considered. You stared at the corner of the room like it might give you answers.

It didn’t.

But it didn’t feel like a hospital either.

You took your time in the shower, letting the heat soak into your skin until the mirror fogged over and your thoughts slowed just enough to feel manageable. Jack's body wash smelled different on you—deeper, warmer somehow—and the scent clung faintly to your skin as you pulled on the softest clothes you had packed: shorts and an oversized shirt you barely remembered grabbing.

When you stepped out of the guest room, damp hair still clinging to your neck, the smell of garlic and something gently sizzling greeted you first. Jack was in the kitchen, stirring a pot with practiced ease, the kind of domestic ease that tugged at something inside you.

He turned when he heard your footsteps—and froze for a beat too long.

His eyes swept over you and caught on your hair, your shirt, the visible curve of your collarbone, the quietness about you that hadn't been there earlier. He blinked, clearly trying to recover, and failed miserably.

"Hey," you said gently, brushing some damp strands behind your ear. "Need help with anything?"

Jack cleared his throat—once, then again—and turned back to the stove, ears visibly reddening. "I think I’m good," he said. "Unless you want to make sure I don’t burn the rice."

You crossed the room and leaned against the counter next to him, still slightly flushed yourself. The scent of his soap clung to your sleeves, and Jack caught a trace of it on the air. He said nothing—but stirred a little slower. A little more carefully.

"Your apartment’s just as nice as I remembered," you said, soft and genuine, fingers brushing the edge of the countertop.

Jack glanced over at you, a flicker of something warm behind his eyes. "You mean the sterile surfaces and suspiciously outdated spice rack?"

You gave him a knowing smile. "I mean the parts that feel like you."

That stopped him for a second. His stirring slowed to a halt. He looked back down at the pot, a faint smile ghosting over his lips.

"Careful," he murmured, voice low. "If you keep saying things like that, I might start thinking you actually like me."

You nudged his elbow gently. "I might. Don’t let it go to your head."

He smiled to himself, the kind of expression that didn't need to be seen to be felt. And in the soft space between those words, something settled. Easier. Closer.

Dinner was simple—pan-seared salmon, rice, roasted vegetables. Nothing fancy, but everything assembled with care. Jack Abbot, it turned out, could cook.

You said so after the first bite—and let out a soft, involuntary moan. Jack froze mid-chew, raised a brow, and gave you a look.

"Wow," he said dryly, lips twitching. "Should I be offended or flattered?"

You flushed, laughing as you covered your mouth with your napkin. "Don't tell me you're jealous of a piece of salmon?"

He grinned. "I’m a man of many talents," he said dryly, passing you the pepper mill. "Just don’t ask me to bake."

You smiled over your glass of water, a little more relaxed now. "No offense, but I didn’t exactly have ‘culinary savant’ on my Jack Abbot bingo card."

He shot you a look. "What was on the card?"

You hummed, pretending to think. "Chronic insomniac. Secret softie. Closet hoarder of protein bars. Dad joke connoisseur."

Jack snorted, setting down his fork. "You’re lucky the salmon’s good or I’d be deeply offended."

You grinned. "So you admit it."

And he did—not in words, but in the way his gaze lingered a moment too long across the table. In the way he refilled your glass as soon as it dipped below halfway. In the quiet, sheepish curve of his smile when you caught him looking. In the way his laugh lost its usual edge and softened, like maybe—just maybe—he could get used to this.

After dinner, you moved to the sink before Jack could protest. He tried, weakly, something about guests and hospitality, but you waved him off and started rinsing plates.

Jack came up behind you, handing over dishes one by one as you scrubbed and loaded them into the dishwasher to dry. His presence was warm at your back, the occasional graze of his hand or arm sending tiny shivers up your spine. The silence between you was companionable, laced with unspoken things neither of you quite knew how to name.

"You’re seriously not gonna let me help?" he asked, bumping your hip with his.

"This is letting you help," you shot back. "You’re the designated passer."

"Such a glamorous title," he murmured, his voice low near your ear. "Do I get a badge?"

You glanced at him over your shoulder, a smile tugging at your lips. "Only if you survive the suds.

Jack leaned in just as you turned back to the sink, and for a moment, your arms brushed, your shoulders aligned. His gaze lingered on you again—your profile, your damp hair starting to curl at the edges, the stretch of your shirt down your back.

You glanced back at him, close enough now to kiss, breath caught halfway between surprise and anticipation when—

Jack dipped his finger into the soap bubbles and tapped the tip of your nose.

You blinked, stunned. "Did you just—"

Jack held your wide-eyed gaze a beat longer, then said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Nice look, Bubbles."

And the dam broke. You laughed, bright and unguarded, flicking water in his direction.

He dodged each droplet as best he could with a grin, triumphant. "I stand by my methods."

You scooped a pile of bubbles into your hand with deliberate menace.

Jack immediately backed away, holding both palms up like he was under arrest. "No. No no no—"

You grinned, nodding slowly with mock gravity. The chase ensued. He darted around the counter, nearly tripping on the rug as you chased after him, suds in hand and laughter trailing like a siren’s call. He was fast—but you were relentless.

"Truce!" he yelped, dropping to his knees in front of you, hands held high in mock surrender.

You smirked, one brow raised. "Hmm. I don’t know… this feels like a trap."

Jack looked up at you with wide, pleading eyes. "Mercy. Have mercy. I’ll do whatever you want—just don’t soap me."

You hummed, pretending to consider it. "Anything?"

"Within reason. And dignity. Maybe." He started lowering his hands.

You tilted your head, letting the moment draw out. Jack watched you carefully, breath held, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I mean…" he started. "If praise is your thing, you’re doing a fantastic job intimidating me right now."

Your mouth parted, stunned. "Did you just—"

Jack smirked, sensing an opening. "You excel at it. Really. Top tier menace."

You laughed, nearly doubling over. "Oh my god. You’re the worst." The bubbles had dissipated by now, leaving you with only damp hands. 

"And yet, here you are," he said, still kneeling, still grinning.

You shook your head, stray droplets slipping from your hand, your laughter easing into something softer. "Get up, you idiot."

But Jack didn’t—not right away. Still on his knees, he inched closer, crawling forward with slow, deliberate grace. His hands found your thighs, resting there gently, like a prayer. Thumbs stroked the place where skin met fabric, featherlight and reverent.

"I mean it," he said, voice quieter now, almost solemn. "You terrify me."

Your breath caught.

"In the best way," he added, gaze lifting. "You walk into a trauma bay like you own it. You fight like hell for your patients. You get under my skin without even trying."

His hands slid up slowly, still gentle, still hesitant, like waiting for permission. "Sometimes I think the only thing I believe in anymore is you."

Your heart thudded. Your hands, still damp, twitched against your sides.

"You deserve to be worshipped," he murmured, and that was when your knees nearly buckled.

The joke was long forgotten. The laughter faded. All that was left was the way Jack looked at you now—like he wasn’t afraid of the quiet anymore.

His hands had made a slow, reverent climb to your bare skin, thumbs sweeping small, anchoring circles into your skin. You felt the heat of him everywhere, your body taut with anticipation, nerves stretched thin. He didn’t rush. Just looked up at you, drinking in every unsteady breath, every flicker of hesitation in your gaze.

"You’re shaking," he murmured, voice low. If you weren't so dazed, you could've sworn you heard a shadow of amusement. "You want to stop?"

You shook your head—barely—and he nodded like he understood something sacred.

"I want you to feel good," he said softly, leaning in to press the lightest kiss to your thigh, just below the hem of your shirt. "I want to take my time with you. If you’ll let me?"

The question lodged in your chest like a plea. You couldn’t speak, only nodded, and his hands flexed slightly in response. 

Jack stood first, rising fluidly, eyes never leaving yours. As he straightened, your hands found his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands at the base of his neck. That was all it took—the smallest pull, the softest touch—and the space between you collapsed.

Not in chaos, not in desperation, but in something careful. Like reverence wrapped in desire. Like he’d been waiting for this, quietly, for longer than he dared admit.

And when his lips met yours, it was a live wire.

Deep. Soft. Unapologetically tender.

But it didn’t stay chaste. Jack’s hands found your hips, drawing you closer, fitting your bodies together like a secret only the two of you knew how to keep. His tongue brushed yours in a slow, exploratory sweep, and you gasped against his mouth, fingers fisting in the back of his shirt.

The kiss turned hungry, molten—slow-burning restraint giving way to a need you both had held too tightly for too long. Jack’s hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing the curve of your spine, and you arched into him, a quiet gasp slipping free.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmured between kisses, voice thick, reverent.

You pulled back just enough to whisper, "Don’t you dare."

That was all he needed.

And when he kissed you again, it was like promise and prayer and everything you hadn’t let yourself want until now.

His hands moved with aching care—one sliding up your spine to cradle the back of your neck, the other splaying wide at your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was slow and encompassing, more smolder than spark, until it wasn’t—until it ignited all at once.

Jack walked you backward until your hips bumped the counter, and he pressed into the space you gave him, forehead resting against yours. "You undo me," he whispered, breath trembling against your lips. "Every single time."

You were already breathless, clinging to his shirt, heart pounding in your throat.

His mouth found yours again, deeper this time, hands exploring—confident now, reverent, like he was learning every part of you for the first time and never wanted to forget. You moaned softly into the kiss, and Jack cursed under his breath, low and ragged, like the sound had torn through his composure.

And then there was no more space. No more distance. Just heat, and hunger, and the slow unraveling of restraint as Jack lifted you gently onto the counter, your knees parting for him, his name spilling from your lips like a secret.

You kissed like the world was ending. Like this was your only chance to get it right. He needed to feel you pressed against him to believe it wasn’t just a dream.

The kiss deepened, urgent and breathless, until Jack was devouring every sound you made, like he could live off the way you whimpered into his mouth. He groaned low in his throat when your nails scraped lightly down his back, your body arching into his hands like instinct.

He touched you like a man memorizing, devout and thorough—hands mapping the curve of your waist, mouth dragging heat across your throat. He tasted sweat and shampoo and you, and that alone nearly undid him. You felt the tension coil in his spine, the restraint he was holding like a dam, every movement deliberate.

"God," he rasped, lips at your ear, "you have no idea what you do to me."

And when you gasped again, hips shifting, he exhaled a shaky breath like he was trying not to fall apart just from the sound.

"You smell like my soap," he murmured with a rough chuckle, nosing along your jaw. "But you still taste like you."

You whimpered, and he kissed you again—harder now, letting the hunger break through, swallowing your reaction like a man starved.

He praised you in murmured fragments, over and over, voice low and wrecked.

Beautiful.

Brave.

So fucking good.

Mine.

Each word making your skin feel like it was glowing beneath his hands.

And when he finally took you to bed, it wasn’t rushed or careless—it was everything he hadn’t said before now, every ounce of feeling poured into his mouth on your skin, every whispered breath of worship like he was praying into the hollow of your throat.

Jack kissed you like he needed to memorize the taste of every sound you made, like your skin was the answer to every question he’d never asked out loud. His hands roamed slowly, confidently, with that same quiet focus he wore in trauma bays—except now it was all for you. Every inch of you. His mouth lingered at your collarbone, your ribs, the soft curve of your stomach—pressing his devotion into the places you tried to hide.

You felt undone by how gently he worshipped you, how much he wanted—not just your body, but your breath, your closeness, your everything. He murmured praise against your skin like it was sacred, like you were something holy in his arms.

And when he finally moved over you, hands braced on either side of your head, eyes searching yours like he was asking permission one more time—you nodded.

He exhaled like it hurt to hold back. Then gave you everything.

Every kiss was a promise, every touch a confession. He moved with aching tenderness, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you beneath him, like this wasn’t just sex but something divine. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, breath catching in your throat with every thrust. It wasn’t fast or frantic—it was slow, overwhelming, unbearably close.

He whispered your name like a prayer, forehead pressed to yours, and when you finally came apart beneath him, he followed soon after—undone by the way you sang his name like it was the only thing tethering you to this world.

Later, tangled in blankets and the afterglow, Jack pulled you closer without a word. One hand splayed wide against your back, the other curled around your fingers like he wasn’t ready to let you go—not now, maybe not ever. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the warmth of him, the scent of skin and comfort and safety.

"I’m gonna need you to stop making that noise when you taste food," he murmured eventually, voice sleep-thick and amused.

You huffed a laugh into his shoulder. "Or what?"

"I’ll marry you on the spot. No warning. Just a salmon fillet and a ring pop."

Your laughter shook the bed.

Jack smirked, the ghost of a tease already forming. "If I’d known praise got you going, I’d have started ages ago."

You swatted at his chest, heat blooming across your cheeks. "Don’t you dare weaponize this."

He grinned into your hair, voice low and wrecked and entirely too fond. "Too late. I’m gonna ruin you with kindness."

You huffed, hiding your face in his shoulder.

Jack chuckled and pulled you closer, murmuring, "You make blushing look really good, by the way."

You were never going to live this down. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to.

Because Jack Abbot being a secret softie had officially made its triumphant return to your bingo card—and if you were being honest, it had probably been the center square since day one.

"You know," you murmured against his chest, lips curving into a grin, "for someone who acts so stoic at work, you sure have a lot of secrets."

Jack stirred slightly, arm tightening around your waist. "Yeah? Like what?"

You propped yourself up on one elbow, counting off on your fingers. "Total softie. Great cook. An absolute sex god."

Jack groaned into your shoulder, bashful. "Jesus."

"I'm just saying," you teased. "If there’s a hidden talent for needlepoint or poetry, now would be the time to confess."

He lifted his head, eyes heavy with sleep and amusement. "I used to write really bad song lyrics in middle school. That count?"

You laughed, light and easy, your fingers tracing idle circles on his chest. "God, I bet they were terrible."

Jack smirked. "You’ll never know."

"I’ll find them," you said with mock determination. "I’ll unearth them. Just wait."

He kissed your forehead, chuckling softly. "I’m terrified."

And he was—just not of you. Only of how much he wanted this to last.

Jack smiled into your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're incredible, you know that?"

You shook your head, bashful, eyes cast toward the sheets—but Jack didn’t let it slide. His hand curled tighter around yours, his voice still soft but firm. "Hey. I meant that. You are."

When you didn’t answer right away, he leaned in a little closer, his thumb brushing along your wrist. "I need you to hear it. And believe it. You’re—extraordinary."

The earnestness in his voice left you no room to hide. Slowly, your eyes lifted to meet his.

Jack held your gaze like a promise. "Say okay."

"Okay," you whispered, cheeks burning.

He smiled again, slower this time, and kissed your temple once more. "Good girl."

You didn’t answer—just smiled you were on cloud nine and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

Outside, the city was quiet. Inside, you drifted in and out of sleep wrapped in warm limbs and steadier breath, heart finally quiet for the first time in days. Jack’s hand never left yours, his thumb tracing lazy, grounding circles over your knuckles like he needed the reassurance just as much as you did.

Your limbs were tangled with his beneath the softened hush of early morning, the sheets kicked messily down to the foot of the bed. Skin to skin, steady breathing, fingers still loosely clasped where they had found each other in the dark. He shifted just enough to press a kiss to your shoulder, murmured something you didn’t quite catch—but it didn’t matter. The weight of the night had passed. What remained was warmth. Stillness. Something whole.

You fell asleep like that, curled into each other without pretense. Closer than you'd ever planned, safer than you thought possible. And for the first time in what felt like ages, the quiet wasn’t heavy.

It was home.

[asxgard]

Omg I love your jack Abbott writings! All of the written so well. So I have a request if theyre open.

Jack x nurse reader who had a fling but it ended soooo badly because emotions weren’t being regulated. This makes reader quit PTMC and work elsewhere when she finds out she’s pregnant. Never tells jack. Cut to a year or two later, and they manage to cross paths where jack realizes it’s his son/daughter, feelings get thrown out the bag, and they all lived happily ever after?

in the wreckage | one shot

Dr. Jack Abbot x ex!f!nurse!reader

Requested

Summary: It’s in the wreckage of what was that you find hope for what could be.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: Thank you, anon, I hope you enjoy! I struggled between giving him a son or daughter here, frankly because I really enjoyed both in my head. So like it has been in the past, it came down to a coin toss lol

Jack strikes me as both ‘“I walk you to your door and maybe kiss you goodnight on the second or third date” slow, intentional, traditional man and “if I don’t talk about my feelings, they don’t exist” longing, no title, all physical man’ so I float between them lol

Word Count: 3.1k (I blacked out)

Most of my works are 18+ for adult language and content.

Warnings: afab!reader, ex-situationship, implied age gap, foul language, hurt/comfort, mild references to smut, unplanned/surprise pregnancy, not telling jack about said pregnancy (reader being in the wrong oof), single mom!reader, hospital settings, medical inaccuracies, injuries relating to a car crash, angst with a happy ending, fluff

not beta read

It had started in the heat of the moment, neither of you being particularly careful with your feelings. The collection of lingering glances and secret smiles had brought it all to the surface until it was just the two of you after a bad shift. You had found comfort in each other that night, and several nights afterwards, lost in heat and an unspoken understanding of the horrors you faced each day.

Jack Abbot was a man of many complexities, though you thought that was what had sucked you in in the first place. The mysterious edge always left you wanting, always kept you guessing, and that just seemed like a recipe for disaster.

Perhaps because it had started on uncertain ground, always leaving you on the edge of your seat, left the relationship constantly feeling strained. What was worse was that neither of you called attention to it and simply let the insecurities fester. Simply never brought up what you were, or what you wanted to be, or got too personal to be vulnerable, though Jack had more of an affinity for that last one than you did.

You smiled at him less and less in the hallways of the Pitt, overwhelmed by the unknowing eating at your insides. You avoided him at work. He avoided your calls. Sooner or later, one of you always turned up at the other’s door. It became habitual, like a moth to a flame.

It only made your downfall so much worse.

—

You had wanted a clean break, and leaving the Pitt had been like leaving home. It had been necessary after that night with Jack, unable to look at him, let alone continue working with him. Not after what he said — not after you had asked for more and he had calmly, collectively, refused you. Like it didn’t matter. Like you didn’t understand.

It had done more than just hurt and embarrassed you, it had burned.

Like everything had reached its crescendo before stopping cold. All the feelings buzzing around your chest had been too much in the aftermath, so you left. Just left.

The two little pink lines staring at you just a few weeks later were a bitter pill to swallow. A cruel cosmic joke reeling you back to the man you were trying to run away from — leaving a constant reminder of the downfall. Bile had risen in your throat, and you felt a petty feeling rise with it.

He didn’t need to be in your life. You could do it alone. Who said you had to tell him? Perhaps that was wrong of you, a bit too childish, but you were still angry. Still running.

As your belly swelled, your feelings started seeming less bitter and more sweet. You moved out of your crappy one-bedroom apartment and into a fresh start, committing to your choice. Committing to the child in your womb and the choices that had led you there.

There was a tiny part of you that wanted to reach out, let him know, but you grew embarrassed each time you stared at his contact. You did not want him to feel like you were trapping him after he had made it clear that nothing more could happen between you.

For months you struggled with your decision, trying to wrangle your worries and insecurities about being a single mother. All the work, all the money, all the stress it was going to bring you.

It all seemed to fade away when you held your son in your arms, so small and screaming, and yet your heart filled with joy. He was perfect, with tiny fingers and toes, small tufts of dark hair atop his head. His eyes gave you pause — as they were unmistakably Jack’s.

You cried without really knowing why. Joy, longing, loss, love, or something in between had boiled up and then boiled over. Jack should know, echoed quietly in the back of your mind, he should know he has a son.

It felt too late to say it. You had had months to say something, anything and chosen not to. It was too late.

Despite the hardships you faced as a new mom facing it alone, Daniel was loved fiercely and spoiled when you could manage it. Your friends and co-workers helped when they could, and never let the absence of a father grow when they could help fill the void. Even your old co-workers came to see you and your son, visiting with curiosity soaking their eyes.

If any of them caught on, they didn’t say anything.

—

It felt crazy to you that a year since your son had been born had passed so quickly, so fleetingly. You worked a lot to afford rent, food and childcare, but even still, it felt strange that a year had gone by without fanfare.

Your friend had been a lifesaver when she allowed you to use her backyard for his first birthday party. It would be a small affair, with only a handful of kids Daniel knew from daycare and a few of your friends and their kids. Perlah and Dana even stopped by, giving their well wishes from everyone.

When you ran out of ice for the coolers, you and one of your co-workers, Liam, offered to go get more at the corner store. You left Daniel in the caring hands of Dana and promised to be back in only a few minutes.

A few minutes turned into a few hours after you had been blindsided and t-boned by a car trying to run a red light. You felt hazy when the paramedics arrived, carefully trying to apply pressure to the gash on Liam’s leg.

When you were wheeled into PTMC, you felt a flood of panic. Hadn’t you asked to head to Alleghany East? Maybe it had only been in your head. You prayed to whatever was out there that you would only see Robby.

Fate had other plans, it seemed, as Jack was the one who had come to the ambulance doors to assess you.

He stared at you like he had seen a ghost before buckling down and getting to work. He checked your pupils and your vitals, muttering something about a concussion, before checking over the handful of cuts the glass had made when the windows broke.

You were stable, so they wheeled you back into an open room to wait for a head CT. Jack lingered in the doorway, before shooing away an intern who had come to clean your wounds.

“How’s my friend? Is he okay?”

Jack pulled the stool close to you, “He’s just a room over. Nasty laceration, concussion, but Robby’s taking care of him. He’ll be okay.”

You nodded and took a deep breath. You picked up your phone to call Dana.

“I shouldn’t be long.” You told her after explaining what had happened.

“I’ll be right there.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Like hell I don’t. Don’t you worry about a thing, I’ll take care of it.”

You sighed, “Thank you, Dana.”

Jack, who had silently been cleaning your wounds, spoke, “So…is it just me you don’t talk to anymore?”

You scrunched your eyebrows and looked at him quizzically, “Excuse me?”

Hazel eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“I thought you made it clear that was the last thing you wanted.” You said, tone hard, lips dipping into a frown.

Jack let out a long sigh. “It was a bad shift. Bad day. It doesn’t excuse what I said. I was running from it being something real, I’m sorry.” A long pause echoed. “But I’d like to try and at least be friends.”

Friends? It ached somewhere deep in your chest. You could not be friends. You had made that decision over a year before and decided against having him in your life at any capacity. You frowned at him, looking away from his face before you could crumble.

“I don’t think that’s wise.” You said quietly.

He nodded, pulling over the suture kit. That seemed to be the end of it.

You let him finish working while the silence washed over you, thick and guarded. Your thoughts felt cloudy, and your head hurt, your muscles ached, but doubt began to creep in.

Had you made the right decision? You wanted to believe so. With one foot constantly out the door, would he even make a good father? Had you waited too long to even consider telling him? You felt stuck in your head, going over all the what ifs until you felt queasy.

A knock sounded on the door, pulling you from your thoughts. Dana’s pleasant smile greeted you, but it was your son in her arms that made you flush with distress. You stared at her with wide eyes, heart picking up speed.

“Someone was worried.” She told you simply, but her eyes flickered to Jack.

Jack looked up at Dana, then at the boy in her arms. The toddler was tucked against her neck, leaning on her like he was trying to sleep. Jack schooled his features easily, though it looked like he was disappointed for just a fraction of a second, which sent you reeling.

“Should I have someone call your…boyfriend?” Jack asked tightly, looking back down at the stitch work.

“No boyfriend.” You frowned, but accepted your son from Dana eagerly. Did Jack think that you’d had a baby with someone else? Good. Good. That was for the best. Bile burned your throat.

“How’re you feeling, kid?”

“I’ll be fine, thank you. Can you call my parents? I’ll need help getting him home.”

“Of course, I’ll be just outside if you need anything else.” Dana said, eyes moving to Jack and then back to you.

Your cheeks heated and you held your son tightly to your chest. You rubbed his back and hummed softly, though it was more to comfort yourself than him. Maybe Jack would not notice, just finish his stitches and be on his way and you could go on pretending this had never happened.

Though, thinking Jack wouldn’t notice something was a fool’s game. Your son turned his head to look at him, blinking his tired hazel eyes at Jack. Like you had thought when you first saw them, they were like a mirror of each other.

Alarm raced through Jack’s features, eyes flickering from Daniel and back to you, eyebrows raised, breath caught. You stopped breathing, and your joints locked into place like you were bracing for it to all fall apart. He just stared at you.

“How old is he?”

“Jack—”

“How. Old. Is. He?”

“A year…today.” You said quietly. Meekly. Words cutting your throat like they had been glass.

It was simple enough to do the math, and his expression hardened. He stood, and the air shifted to something uncomfortable, uneasy, uncharted, unknown.

“Jack—wait—let me explain.”

“So I take it this is why everyone has been so secretive about why you left.”

“They didn’t know. No one knew.”

He gestured to where Dana stood in the hall.

“No one knew for certain.” You elaborated, trying to defend them. Perhaps you could handle him being mad at you, but not the family you had made in the Pitt. You had never told them, and they had never asked, though from how she had handed your son to you, it was clear Dana had known.

“You were never going to tell me.” It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.

Shame bubbled in your gut, low and searing, working its way upwards until tears formed. What you had been bracing for hit you like a punch to the chest — hurting more than that car had inflicted.

“I thought it was the right choice at the time.”

He scoffed and recoiled, his expression flinching between pain and anger.

“Jack—” you sighed, leveling your voice so you didn’t raise it. “—you told me I could never understand you, or the role you played here. That asking for any more from you was pointless…that it had all been a mistake and I needed to move on. I really couldn’t bear to work with you after that, so I left. I didn’t know I was pregnant yet. Was it wrong to keep it from you once I found out? …yes. But I was hurt.” You swallowed tightly, and wiped away your tears, annoyed they were forming.

He walked to the far wall away from you, then paced back toward you before repeating himself, hands on his hips. His expression broached closer to unreadable, which fueled your panic. With a long, heavy sigh, he stopped to lean against the wall. Never one to stray from eye contact, he found your eyes. Heavy, hard, reserved.

“I thought it was for the best. I didn’t want you to feel like I was trapping you, especially since it seemed like kids were the last thing on your list. I just wanted a clean break. I doubted my decision a lot—”

“And yet, you did nothing about it.”

You bit your lip. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I really messed up, I know that now. Time kept slipping away from me. I was still figuring out parenting — I still am — and to throw co-parenting into the mix? It felt like an impossible climb.”

“If you had never come here today…if Dana had never brought him in…you never would have said anything.”

More tears came as shame burned your face, “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know.”

Silences with Jack used to be comfortable, easy, as simple as breathing. The one now settling between you? It ached, it burned, it crushed.

“What’s his name?” Jack asked quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Daniel.”

You swore you saw his eyes grow glassy.

“I made the wrong decision, and I’ll own up to that.” You admitted quietly. “I can’t change what I did or didn’t do, and I’ll never be able to apologize enough for it. I just thought this…this would be easier. For everyone involved.”

“I’m involved now. Don’t fight me on that.”

“I won’t.” You vowed.

—

Trust was built back slowly, through long conversations and with actions followed through. It had been tense and awkward as your son grew to know Jack as his father, though he fell into the role like he was made for it. It only made the guilt over stealing a year of your son’s life from him hurt all over again.

The tension and burning guilt were the hardest thing for you two to overcome. While he never raised his voice, he would grow accusatory when he remembered how much he had lost out on. You would double down on the night you had left him behind — or perhaps it truly was him leaving you behind — and the words he had said to you.

Neither of you were particularly blameless, not really. The relationship that had been was not one formed on a solid foundation, so everything felt like new territory. The pull of will they, won’t they, as Princess had put it, constantly making you question where you stood.

You just wanted to focus on co-parenting effectively, and Jack just wanted to focus on making up for lost time. That felt easy enough.

But something from the past — from the wreckage of what you had been — lingered like some part of you and Jack was haunted. An echo of what should have been fizzled just below the surface.

On the first night you felt secure enough to leave Daniel at Jack’s apartment, you settled in his kitchen to clean up a bit of the mess from dinner. Jack’s guest room had been quickly converted to be a bedroom for his son, pulling together everything he needed without complaint.

Jack wandered back into the kitchen after settling Daniel down for the night. You hummed softly, and Jack leaned against the doorway without saying anything.

“I know this is hard for you.” Jack said, hands in his pockets. “Thank you for giving me tonight.”

You smiled even though a sadness lingered at leaving your son somewhere overnight that was not his home. But this would need to be his home, too, so you swallowed it.

“You two need some quality time,” after I ripped the beginning away from you. “You two will have fun tomorrow.”

“...I got an extra ticket, if you’d like to come with us.”

Hope bloomed, “You did?”

“I’d like to put the past behind us. Move forward together.” He said, eyes never leaving yours.

Forgiveness had come with your son’s echoing laughter and hues of blue shimmering against your skin, as light moved through the water. Daniel pointed up at the sharks in their tanks while Jack held him, watching in his own kind of excitement, a smile cracking against the corner of his mouth.

Jack had grabbed your hand without saying anything.

You intertwined your fingers and let out a long breath of relief.

—

Something like love had come in a flourish after Daniel’s first words: dada. It might have felt like a punch to the gut, another cosmic joke, if it hadn’t lit up Jack’s face in a smile you had never seen before. It warmed the ache in your chest and decided it was okay for Jack to have this first.

It felt like forgiving yourself.

You ended up staying the night, curling up against Jack’s chest while your son slept soundly in the next room. Neither of you wanted to rush what was blossoming between you, or jinx it. If you were going to go for it, you each deserved steady ground to stand on.

“You’re doing really well with him.” You whispered. “I was worried it would feel clunky or unnatural to have you around. But it works.”

He looked at you for a long time. “I don’t want to mess this up, too.”

You softened, “I think that’s what parenthood is. Messing up and trying to do better, every day.”

“Do you think relationships are the same?” He asked, low and deliberate.

“Yeah, I do.”

It felt like a confession.

He leaned down to kiss you, but paused just before his lips met yours. Your heart hammered against your ribs, and you wet your lips with your tongue.

“I like what we have. I don’t want to screw it up by trying to be something we’re not.” You said quietly, though you felt the pull of wanting to kiss him.

Co-parenting had been bleeding closer to a relationship for quite some time, but you had not wanted to be the one who spoiled it.

“I’m not going to run this time, not if you don’t.”

You swallowed, focusing on his eyes, “I’m here to stay.”

He captured your lips, pulling you flush against him, one hand going behind your head and the other settling on your hip. It was hesitant, but full of feeling, of all things left unsaid.

It felt like was a promise.

same prompt, but with Robby: A Fresh Start

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Dr. Abbot taglist: @flyinglama @valhallavalkyrie9 @melancholyy-hill @travelingmypassion @yournerdmodziata @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse @woodxtock @rachel2494

The Pitt taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph @ksyn-faith @sunfairyy @dragonsondragons @mischiefsemimanaged @pastelbunnelby @jetjuliette @that-one-fangirl69

All content taglist: @nixandtonic

this inspired two tiny multis:

casual (coming soon) (Dr. Robby)

champagne problems (coming soon) (Dr. Abbot)

whoops

[livwritessometimes]

Please Please Please

: Lando Norris x Reader

: Y/n really hopes this relationship works out…after all no one likes being embarrassed by a boy

: Series Masterlist

: Main Masterlist

…

2022 (october)

liked by User32 and 62,718 others

👤: Yourname, jacobelordi

CelebGossip: SPOTTED: Y/n L/n and Jacob Elordi, in what seems to be a cozy getaway in Miami! Could this be the start of a new relationship? We’ll find out soon enough!

view all 48,932 comments

User32: SHUT UP!!!!! Y/N and JACOB

User09: OMGGGG I LOVE THEM ALREADY

User66: this is a total invasion of privacy!

liked by jacobelordi and 98,619 others

👤: jacobelordi

Yourname: Cats out of the bag ig 🤭

view all 72,780 comments

jacobelordi: 💙💙

*liked by Yourname*

Yourname: Can you tell blue is our color?? 🙈

*liked by jacobelordi*

lilyzneimer: Cutiessss 😍😍

*liked by Yourname*

-> User52: WAITTT WHY IS LILY HERE????

-> User21: Lily and Y/n are childhood friends

User33: GOALS!!! 🔥

User09: PLEASE DON’T BREAK UP 🙏🏻

liked by Yourname and 102,729 others

👤: Yourname

jacobelordi: Summer of 22’ 🐞

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Yourname: To many more 🥂

*liked by jacobelordi*

-> jacobelordi: 🥂

User51: THEY’VE BEEN TOGETHER SINCE SUMMER??????

-> User07: ILRRRRRR

-> User66: This explains why Y/n was always blushing whenever she was asked dating questions in interviews!

2023 (march)

liked by User32 and 72,718 others

👤: kaiagerber, jacobelordi, Yourname

CelebGossip: HE DID WHAT? Looks like flowers aren’t the only thing set to blossom this season. Jacob Elordi and Kaia Gerber were CAUGHT making out in public. This comes as a shock to many, as Elordi is still believed to be in a relationship with singer Y/n L/n. Have the couple already broken up in secret, or did Jacob just air his dirty laundry out in public? Stay tuned to find out!

view all 62,839 comments

User32: WTFFFF

User59: HE CHEATED?????

User88: Ohhhh poor Y/n 💔💔💔

User01: Ik he cheated and all but why are they both kinda giving 💅🏻

-> User54: Ya giving home wrecker if that’s what you mean!

2023 (august)

liked by User72 and 129,628 others

👤: Yourname, shawnmendes

CelebGossip: Y/n L/n, back in the game? After being publicly cheated on by ex boyfriend, Jacob Elordi, L/n seems to have found herself a new beau! Revenge rebound or true love? Either way we’re here to see how it plays!!

view all 97,628 comments

User88: Ok it’s clear Y/n’s type is tall boys!!! GIRL THE WAY THAT I RELATE 🤭🤭🤭

User02: wow! I did not think Shawn had it in him to move on from hailey

-> User63: IKRRR!!! Like he was devastated after their break up 💔💔

User44: This confirms NOTHING!! This can just be a friendly conversation for all we know 🤷🏻‍♀️

-> User58: With the way he’s looking at her 🤨 ya right, friendly my ass

2023 (december)

liked by Yourname and 282,529 others

👤: Yourname

shawnmendes: Guess this makes it official or something doesn’t it @/Yourname??

view all 162,729 comments

Yourname: hmm 🤔 I guess it does @/shawnmendes!

User21: OH FUCK! I THINK IM GONNA FAINT 😵

User01: THIS PERFORMANCE>>>>>>>>

User08: “Cause friends don’t know the way you taste” AHHHHHHHH

User66: I KNEW THEY WERE LYING WHEN THEY SAID THEY’RE “JUST FRIENDS”

User50: I know they just announced their relationship but can we just talk about how GOOD Señorita is!!!!!!

*liked by shawnmendes*

liked by shawnmendes and 216,828 others

👤: shawnmendes

Yourname: I never thought our friendship could turn into something so beautiful 🤍

view all 113,728 comments

User44: this girl is in LOVE!!!!!

User20: I always knew they’d date! I JUST KNEW IT 🥰🥰🥰🥰

shawnmendes: 🤍🤍

*liked by Yourname*

2024 (february)

liked by haileybaldwin and 197,211 others

👤: Yourname, shawnmendes

CelebGossip: 2 heartbreaks in less than a year?? Y/n L/n might just be setting records, for all the wrong reasons. L/n was recently spotted with friend-turned-beau Shawn Mendes for what seemed to be a lovely lunch but ended up leaving the restaurant in tears. Looks like another heartache is in the books for L/n. Could it be bad luck, bad timing, or simply bad choices? Stay tuned to find out.

view all 97,828 comments

User11: WTFFFFF WHAT HAPPENED????

User43: This is why you should never mix friendship with love!!!!

User06: No but like Hailey liking this is just WILD!!!!

-> User71: Wait whattttt!!! I completely missed that!!

2024 (march)

liked by haileymendes and 210,732 others

👤: haileybaldwin, shawnmendes

CelebGossip: Dearest gentle reader, it seems history has a way of repeating itself. Shawn Mendes and Hailey Baldwin, spotted together once again. Could this reignite the spark they once lost? With Mendes’ recent breakup, one can’t help but wonder?

view all 157,621 comments

User02: SHUT UPPPP!!! I KNEW THERE WAS NO WAY SHAWN WAS OVER HAILEY

User23: oh nooo! How could he do this to y/n 💔

User10: they’re not gonna last 👎🏻

liked by shawnmendes and 99,718 others

👤: shawnmendes

haileybaldwin: Funny how things have a way of falling back into place ❤️

view all 81,728 comments

shawnmendes: Better than ever ❤️

*liked by haileybaldwin*

User06: I still can’t believe how cruel people can be! Y/n deserves better 🤍

User88: They’re so in love 😍

*liked by haileybaldwin*

2024 (may)

liked by oscarpiastri and 134,278 others

👤: lilyzneimer

Yourname: I’m gonna marry her someday 💍

view all 97,628 comments

lilyzneimer: It’s a love story, baby I’ll say yes 💒

*liked by Yourname*

-> Yourname: 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

User18: Poor Oscar 😭😭😭😭

-> Yourname: umm who tf is that????

-> oscarpiastri: Wow Y/n Wow 🙂

-> Yourname: 🤨🤨

User81: PETITION TO BRING Y/N TO A GRAND PRIX

-> lilyzneimer: 🤔

-> oscarpiastri: Lily No 🙅🏻

-> mclaren: Lily Yes 🙌🏻

liked by oscarpiastri and 168,829 others

👤: mclaren, oscarpiastri

Yourname: Blessing McLaren with my presence 😌

view all 104,753 comments

mclaren: Feeling very blessed 🛐🛐

*liked by Yourname*

-> Yourname: 🤭🤭

oscarpiastri: Did you really have to use that picture??

-> Yourname: I think the word you’re looking for is ‘Thank You’ for not using the other picture 🤨

-> landonorris: @/mclaren MOM! They’re fighting again!!!!

-> Yourname: tattletale 😒👎🏻

-> landonorris: 😇😇

User40: I pity Lily 😞

*liked by lilyzneimer*

User55: Okay so are we all just gonna ignore that interaction???

2024 (july)

liked by Yourname and 219,628 others

👤: Yourname, oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer

landonorris: Date night with Oscar, when two random girls crashed it. Weird!

view all 154,872 comments

Yourname: Wow! If I remember correctly you’re the one who called us and said “please join us!!! We miss you!!! Please guys, Please!!!”

-> landonorris: I remember no such thing 🙂‍↔️

-> User12: Yk it’s bad when you gotta use please 3 times!! 😭😭

lilyzneimer: umm that’s literally my boyfriend 😃

-> landonorris: I think you mean our* boyfriend!! 😌

-> lilyzneimer: No I absolutely did not mean that???

-> oscarpiastri: I don’t know if I should feel happy or worried about you two 🫤

User58: IS THAT LANDO AND Y/N IN THE THIRD PICTURE???????

-> User04: IT ISSS OMGGG

-> User03: Damn Y/n’s gonna get her heart broken all over again

LN4Hater: @/Yourname he’s just gonna use and dump you! Girl have some self respect! You’ve literally been through 2 heartbreaks already!

User57: Honestly I just don’t get it! Like Y/n why is your taste so bad?? Just why??????

-> User77: I just wonder how she isn’t tired of being embarrassed?? Like, I personally could never handle that level of public humiliation 🫣🫣🫣

liked by User11 and 102,881 others

👤: landonorris, Yourname

CelebGossip: The rumour mill is spinning, and your favourite pop princess is at the centre of it again! Word on the street is that Lando Norris and Y/n L/n are getting close, and fans aren’t exactly thrilled. Especially after learning out about Norris’ colourful dating history.

We’ve done all the hard work for you and compiled a list of every single person Norris has been linked to in the past year. Click the link in bio to get a full scoop on his playboy past.

Will this mark the end of his streak or will L/n just be another name added to the list.

view all 96,738 comments

User39: Wow! That list looks like a class roll call, DAMN!!

User09: @/Yourname please please please get a hold of yourself! THIS MAN HAS BEEN AROUND 🙏🏻🙏🏻

User04: Guys this is bullshit! This whole list is ridiculous and CelebGossip posting it is even worse!

2024 (september)

liked by User04 and 168,813 others

👤: Yourname, landonorris

CelebGossip: Looks like things are still going strong between Y/n L/n and Lando Norris. The duo was first spotted together back in May and against all odds (and exes), they’re still going steady. Are they in it for the long run, or is our heartbreak queen about to score a hat-trick?

view all 110,727 comments

User52: Sorry girly but that looks like love to me!!!

Nowinsnorris: There is no way that man has changed! Y/n run away as fast as you can

-> User04: Oh please! Just shut up 🙄

User65: I mean at least she’s happy! That’s all that matters ig!

liked by Yourname and 275,718 others

landonorris: Couldn’t have asked for a better end to the weekend! Thank you so much, Singapore 🇸🇬🫶🏻

view all 201,782 comments

oscarpiastri: Congrats Mate 🥂

-> landonorris: you too Osc 🙌🏻

mclaren: LETS GOOO 🔥🔥

Yourname: Good race!

-> landonorris: just good? 😏

-> Yourname: hmm 🤔 could have been better ig 🤷🏻‍♀️

*liked by mclaren*

-> User44: Not mclaren liking the comment 😭😭😭

User77: The effect Y/n has on Lando needs to be studied, cause tell me why the man who usually spends all his podium celebrations in clubs is now having DINNER AT HOME with his girlfriend??????

-> User09: It’s true what they say, sometimes, all it takes is the right person to make you change

liked by landonorris and 169,627 others

Yourname: lovin’ my life 🫶🏻

view all 102,882 comments

landonorris: ohh any particular reason why? 🤔

-> Yourname: Yes actually! Been spending a lot of time with the loml @/lilyzneimer

-> lilyzneimer: love you too 😘

-> landonorris: OMGGG first Oscar and now this!!! Lily just say you hate me already

-> lilyzneimer: I would, but then McLaren would make me sit with you for a PR meeting, and I am not ready for that kind of suffering 😩

-> mclaren: It’s true, we will!

2024 (november)

liked by landonorris and 165,728 others

👤: landonorris

Yourname: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE OUT NOW!!! Enjoy 💋

view all 112,838 comments

User32: OMFGGGGGG IS THAT LANDO IN THE MV??????

landonorris: I see you’ve been to jail 👀

-> Yourname: what can I say I’m a dangerous girl 😌🔪

lilyzneimer: SO GOOD!!! Been streaming this ALL DAY LONG!!!

*liked by Yourname*

-> oscarpiastri: It’s true, she has been! Anyways, great song Y/n/n!!!!

*liked by Yourname*

User55: I never knew I needed to see Lando in handcuffs before this!! THANK YOU Y/N 🛐🛐🛐

User87: please please please don’t ever break up!!

*liked by landonorris*

liked by Yourname and 279,637 others

👤: Yourname

landonorris: Been in handcuffs a lot lately 😈

view all 172,728 comments

Yourname: From the looks of it, you seem to like it

-> landonorris: And what if I say I do 👀

-> mclaren: Y/N PLEASE DON’T ANSWER TO THIS 🙏🏻

-> Yourname: Oops 🤭🤭

oscarpiastri: This caption is very concerning

-> landonorris: 😙✌🏻

User58: YOU NEED HOLY WATER 💦

*liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, lilyzneimer*

2025 (january)

liked by landonorris and 239,627 others

👤: landonorris

Yourname: To everyone who said he wouldn’t win this season and we wouldn’t last…how’s that working out for you? 😌

view all 147,627 comments

User32: AHHHHH THE CAPTION

landonorris: Winning on and off track I’d say 🥂

-> Yourname: hmm and what did you win off track? 🤔

-> landonorris: your heart ofc 😏

-> oscarpiastri: please stop! Some conversations aren’t meant for social media 🙏🏻

mclaren: On a regular day, this caption would’ve led to a PR meeting, but we’ll let it slide, only because you’re our fav 🧡

-> mclaren: Also because we’ve exhausted all our ppts over lando 🫢

*liked by Yourname*

-> landonorris: 🥲🥲🥲

…

Tags: @sheblogs | @wobblymug | @evasmlp | @ln8118 | @urfavsgf | @tvdtw4ever | @linnygirl09 | @dejavuontrack | @stylesmoonlight12 | @ellelabelle | @piastri-fvx | @vannylen2144

[littlelovelunette]

Hellooo, could I request a reader getting over a heart break and deciding to wear her sluttiest outfit to go out drinking and Sevika who can’t keep her eyes off her cause she’s wearing a short skirt that barely covers her ass?

Eye-Fucking Ya’

Sevika x Recently Broken-Up!Reader

Sex with plot, fingering in a bathroom stall, fondling and kissing, teasing, Reader is a mood, mentions of being caught, biting and hickeys.

Even though, you missed your ex dearly you forced yourself out of it. Your friends had been blasting your cell for the past hour, trying to get you out of your little depressed shell.

"Let's go get drinks," one of them had suggested but you were skeptical. Should you?

As you showered, the cold water cascaded down your frame. You sighed a little, picking up the shower gel resting on the rack, you squirted some on your hand. "Maybe I should go." You mumbled to yourself.

Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea after all, you did need the time outside. You'd been drowning yourself in work to distract yourself from the pain of your breakup. With a groan, you wiped your hand off on the towel and grabbed your phone using your other hand to part the shower curtains.

As you picked your phone up, you saw there were around 26 missed calls from your friends. "Hey," you gingerly put the phone to your ear.

"Hi, girl! We've been calling for hours! Why are you ghosting us?" Kayla asked, you could hear the other girls giggling in the background. Of course, they were probably getting their nails done for their outing today.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see the messages, I've been off my phone since the morning." You replied, looking at your sleep deprived reflection on the mirror. Your eyes were swollen and bloodshot from crying.

"Off your phone? Are you okay, girlie?" Kayla asked, her voice lowering in worry.

"Yeah... Just a hard time coping after the breakup, I guess." You answered, using your other hand to prode at your own face as if testing the skin.

"That's why we keep tellin' you! Come to Last Drop and have a drink with us. Maybe dress up a little and you might even get laid." Kayla said, her tone taking a suggestive turn.

"Get laid? I don't want sex right now. I'm barely even outta the woods." You laughed bitterly.

"Oh, c'mon, maybe just dress up for us girls then, okay?"

"Yeah, okay fine."

You both paused and you could hear Kayla asking the other girls if they could delay their outing so you get off your work shift and join them. The others sounded so excited you'd be there— so much so that you almost felt guilty for cancelling on them so many times earlier because you were busy grieving your breakup.

"Does 8 pm work for you?" Kayla asked.

"It's a bit late but uh, yeah. It's not like I'll be having company rather than y'all anyway," you laughed slightly.

"Maybe soon," Kayla said, letting her words linger before she cut the call with a last, "See ya' there!"

You pulled the shower curtain back and put your phone on the counter again, resuming your shower silently as you thought what you'd wear. You couldn't think of any bar-worthy outfit in your closet. You'd thrown most of them out anyway because they no longer fitted you.

As you stepped out of the bathroom in a towel, you rummaged through your closet only to find a very short black dress. You sighed softly and tried it on, it barely covered the swell of your ass. You tried to pull the hem down more but it didnt budge. You groaned, turning to see your butt in the mirror. Well, it did look good.

You shrugged, zipping the dress off and putting it on a hanger so you could dress for your job first. You left the room, phone in hand and key jingling from the little ring on your belt. Work was the usual, serving tables and sucking down the inappropriate even hurtful remarks of paying customers. And Karens. You were grateful when your shift was over and you quickly walked to your house to get ready. It was 6 pm by the time you reached. You didn't take long to get ready, putting out hair up so you could flash those shoulders.

You put the black dress on, it was a sleek, satin dress with spaghetti straps and a cowl neckline. The daring side cutouts were pretty much flashing most of your skin anyway, the chains that adorned them barely covered and only added to decor. You put on some long silver earrings and sighed, "Bold or natural?" You asked yourself as you opened your eyeshadow palette. After a while of contemplating you decided one night of a bold smokey eyeshadow couldn't go wrong.

You left your house in a leather jacket that covered your body just right, heels clicking as you walked down the pavement of Zaun. The cold night air licked your skin and gave you goosebumps, but you tried to ignore it. When was the last time you actually felt independent since that toxic relationship of yours that fell apart? You don't remember.

When you opened the door to Last Drop, you immediately noticed the table your friends were seated at. They were chattering loudly as they ordered drinks. Kayla spotted you and waved at you obnoxiously as if they were hard to miss.

Sevika wasn't one to ogle, she never did. In fact, it was almost always the other way around so she didn't bother trying hard when it came to women. But seeing the way your butt squished against your seat seemed to shake her the wrong way.

"Fuck, who's she?" Sevika questioned one of the henchmen. He took a long stare at your figure before looking back at Sevika with a shrug.

Sevika groaned and finished her game of poker before she got up, walking upto the bar to get a drink refill. The bartender refilled her glass without her needing to ask him to. She turned, elbow leaning against the bar as she looked at your frame. "She's smokin' hot," Sevika thought.

"You see that?" Kayla smirked, "Silco's right hand woman is checking you out, girl!"

"No way," you glanced at Sevika who was staring at you blatantly. You couldn't decipher whether she was planning out how to murder you and bury your body or if she was just staring at you, appreciating the view.

"Go, talk to her!" Kayla said with a full blown grin.

"But Kayla, she has a history of— um— y'know paying for sex at a brothel. I'm not sure if she'd even take me seriously or just want a taste of my—"

"Hey, pretty," Sevika's voice cut you out, sounding out right behind you as she pulled up a chair, sinking down onto it causing it to let out a creak.

Her mechanical arm was well tucked away under her poncho, a soft smile playing on her lips as if she knew her charms were enough to sway you. With a nervous clearing of your throat, you answered, "Hey...." Your tone was so awkward.

"What brings you here in such an interesting outfit tonight?" Sevika asked, leaning back in her chair, legs manspread and her juicy thighs seemed like they were just asking to be sat on, claimed.

You blushed without even realising it, hiding the side of your face using your hair. As you fiddled with the hem of your dress you answered, "Just... Recently had a bad falling out with my girlfriend so, just getting my head back in the game, I guess."

"Doll, you date for fun?" Sevika crossed her legs, raising a brow. There was no judgement in her tone. Only amusement. As if any answer that you'd give her, regardless of the level of devotion, she'd still hit it with you.

"Oh, no, no," you giggled, "You got me all wrong. I date to marry."

Sevika smirked lazily, "Is that right?"

Small talk turned into deep meaningful conversations about how the both of you would spent your lives after getting married and settling down. You wanted to settle down for the purpose of starting a family. Sevika? Not so. Sevika expressed how she was sure anyone who she dated was likely to be far younger than her and so, she expected to get cheated on. It was heart shattering to hear her speak so lowly of herself, she claimed she wasn't worth the effort of love.

Suddenly, before even realising it you both were kissing in the bathroom if Last Drop, Sevika's hand was in your panties from under your dress as her fingers worked to rub your pussy in slow, determined strokes.

"Tell me, what do you need?"

"Besides a healthy relationship?" You giggled shakily, arms coming to wrap around her as you kissed her. The kiss was heated, Sevika wasn't a gentle soul normally but for you she toned down her game, taking her time to actually explore your mouth and focus on your pleasure.

You both parted for air. Well, you parted for air, Sevika could keep going. She continued nipping down your neck, "I need your fingers." You whispered.

Sevika's thick fingers parted your pussy lips and her thumb pressed your clit while her middle and index fingers found your slit, dipping only the tips of her fingers inside. "Sevika, don't be a bitch." You said in a warning tone.

Sevika glanced up, chuckling, "Don't play around, do ya'?" She pulled you close earning a gasp from you due to the suddenness but she didn't let go, her fingers starting to pump inside your hole. "Now just imagine if someone walks in and finds us."

"Shut up," you hissed, grabbing her shoulders tightly, your nails digging into her skin as your eyes closed, "Oh, fuuuuuuck."

Your pussy clenched around Sevika's fingers, clit twitching under the calloused pad of her thumb. You were close and you knew it but you didn't wanna finish so fast and make a fool of yourself. You told yourself to hold on just a bit more.

"You're close, aren't ya'?" Sevika asked in a breathy tone, her teeth sinking down at the curve of your neck illiciting a gasp from you. She didn't stop, her teeth digging deeper and leaving an imprint of them, sucking the area to form a dark hickey.

"I am," you admitted, burying your face in Sevika's neck to muffle your moan, "Oh, right there—" Sevika curled her finger and that's all it took, you whined loudly as you came undone all over her fingers, soaking them.

"There we go, what a good girl," Sevika pulled them out with a wet schlik and took a good lick of them, maintaining eye contact with you. You flushed. "You're so sweet, pretty girl." Sevika commented as she continued licking her digits clean.

"Wanna clean up or continue?" Sevika asked, her grey eyes glinting with mischief.

"Does that offer have a bedroom version? I'm tired of standing upright, y'know."

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Can I see your d*ck? (pt 3)

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

synopsis: your pretty best friend shows you some mercy...

wc: 1.6k

warnings: fingering, dirty talk, handjob, oral (m), cum swallowing

a/n: part 3! there might be a part 4...😉

masterlist

You were barely holding on, the last sane part of your mind slipping out just as Felix started teasing your entrance with three of his fingertips.

"F-Felix... Please." you whimpered and he smirked.

"I'm not sure you'll be able to take this." he pouted, teasing you and you were so close to just grabbing his wrist and making him shove his fingers inside you.

"I will, I promise!" you begged, feeling desperate as the embarrassment you felt earlier slowly started flying out the window.

"Hm..." Felix pretended to think, only pushing his fingertips in teasingly and you realized just how much three fingers are. You almost faltered when he smirked at you.

"Spread her for me." he whispered and you almost exploded right then and there as you put your fingers on either sides of your folds, spreading yourself for him.

"Pretty." he smirked and slowly pushed in, meeting some resistance even after you came and were still so wet. A whimper escaped your lips as you tried to relax, spreading your legs more. Felix could see and feel that you were struggling and he stopped midway.

"Does it hurt?" he asked and you could see the concern in his face, making your stomach flutter.

"No. It's just a little uncomfortable." you answered.

"I can stop if you want me to." he offered, his thumb brushing against your swollen, sensitive clit.

"No! Please don't stop!" you were determined to see this through, you were too far gone to back out now.

"Okay, sweetheart." Felix smirked at the way you clenched around him when he used the nickname, your pussy sucking his fingers in as he slowly filled you up.

"Oh, god." your eyes rolled back and you shut them tightly as your hands grabbed at the sheets below.

Felix bit on his lip as he observed you, his heart racing and his dick twitching in his pants. There was only so much teasing he too could take.

Playing with you without giving you what you actually wanted felt like he was edging himself too and it was becoming painful. His dick was straining against his pants so much that he felt as if they were going to burst open soon, he needed some kind of release. So, he used the fact that you were so gone in the feeling of his fingers fucking you slowly and he let his other hand travel down his body.

He gripped at himself, a low moan escaping his lips as he continued his pace, spreading you open with three fingers. Your eyes snapped open and you looked at him in a daze, your gaze traveling down until you stopped, watching him palm and grip himself through his pants.

"Fuck." you groaned. "Please let me see it! I can't wait anymore. Please."

"I think you should- ugh... Be patient." Felix tried to keep his composure but you could see he was slowly unraveling.

"I've been patient enough. I did what you said, three fingers. Come on, no more stalling." you stopped his wrist from moving and he whined, pulling his fingers out and cursing under his breath.

"I guess that a deal is a deal." Felix pulled his sweatpants down and you licked your lips in anticipation as you sat up, the throbbing feeling between your legs becoming almost unbearable.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, his cheeks flushed as he looked down at himself before pulling his boxers down finally. You gasped, your legs pressing together instantly. You thought that it was the prettiest dick you've ever seen and all you wanted was to have him everywhere in you.

"See something you like sweetheart?" Felix smirked but you knew he was affected by the way you looked at him like you wanted to eat him up.

"Definitely." you said, feeling your body flush with waves of warmth.

"Better than your little porn videos?" he kept smirking and you returned it.

"I'll decide after I touch it." you whispered and leaned towards him.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, sweetheart." Felix grabbed your wrists gently. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

You knew he was teasing you, the slick bastard.

"I can learn." you freed your wrists from his hands and reached down to wrap your fingers around his length. Felix let out a low groan when he felt your touch, his eyes fluttering shut and eyebrows furrowing.

You bit on your lip as another wave of warmth went through your body, landing in your pussy. The way he felt in your hand, hot and heavy, his tip leaking in anticipation he felt for you only made you want more of him.

You knew he wanted to keep teasing you but his body betrayed him as he leaned into your hand, silently asking you to move. You spread the precum over his length and his eyes were still shut tightly as you started stroking him slowly.

It was almost like all of his resolve started melting with each stroke of your hand and when he opened his eyes and locked them on yours, you could feel him twitch in your hand.

"Am I doing good?" you whispered.

"Looking for praise?" he teased with a smirk.

"What if I am?" you teased back and he rolled his eyes playfully.

"You can go faster, sweetheart." his hand rested on the back of your head and gripped your hair as soon as you sped up. "Yeah, just like that baby. Keep going."

Felix leaned in and kissed you, his tongue swirling around yours as his hips started moving into your hand, matching the pace. You grabbed at his shoulder with your free hand as he knocked the breath out of your lungs.

You could feel him twitch again, leaking more precum as he got closer to the edge but you didn't wanna give him that satisfaction yet so you stopped all movement and removed your hand.

"W-why'd you stop?" Felix gasped, body arching towards you instictively.

"I wanna taste you."

The thought of your lips wrapped around his dick made Felix stutter for a moment as his hand gripped your hair harder.

"Are you sure?" he asked through gritted teeth, holding back from giving in as long as he could.

"I'm sure. Please."

Felix felt his body shiver and he got rid of his shirt before laying down on your bed and propping his hands behind his head, his eyes hazy and a cocky smile playing on his plump lips.

You chewed on your lip nervously before taking off your shirt too, throwing it aside and Felix's eyes darkened at the sight of your breasts.

"What are you waiting for, sweetheart?" he nudged your arm with his knee as you hovered closer to his dick.

"Nothing. Shut up." you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you but you threw it in the back of your head as you leaned down closer, darting your tongue out to taste him.

"Fuck, sweetheart." Felix gasped instantly as you worked your tongue on his slit and the sensitive underside of his tip. "Put your lips around it." he instructed and you did as you were told, making his eyes roll back.

"Just like that, good girl." the praise went right to your pussy and you pressed your thighs together as you felt arousal drip between your legs.

You sucked on his tip before sliding down and taking more in slowly, driving Felix insane. He put his hand on your head, not gripping or forcing you, just guiding you and making sure you stay in place as he didn't let you lift off of him completely.

You rubbed your thighs together as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked on him, the feeling of him against your tongue, the salty taste, the way he held your head down; it was too much and you moaned around him, making him arch off the bed and slip in deeper. You gagged as his tip almost touched the back of your throat, your eyes filling up with tears.

"Fuck, sorry sweetheart." he bit on his lip and you moaned around him again to let him know you're okay. His fingers tightened in your hair just a little as you continued, speeding up and trying to find the limit of how much you could take, gagging a few times and it took everything in Felix not to snap and start fucking your face.

"K-keep going, baby. Faster." he stuttered, hips lifting into you. You could feel he was close by the way he kept twitching inside your mouth and you ignored the tears in your eyes, the uncomfortable gagging feeling and the way your jaw started hurting, you just wanted to make him feel as good as he did to you.

"Y-yes, oh god! I'm close." he tried to pull you off but you slapped his hand away and gripped the base of his dick, going even faster and deeper, as much as you could.

"S-shit!" Felix groaned and his hips snapped up into your mouth as he exploded inside, the warm liquid filling up your mouth and you panicked in that moment and quickly swallowed, sucking on him a little longer until he gave you everything.

"Did you just swallow?" Felix's eyes widened as you sat up and coughed a little.

"I did." you said breathlessly and he let out a chuckle of disbelief as he sat up too.

"You're crazy, baby." he chuckled and touched your cheek, noticing you were still pressing your legs together.

"Still feeling needy, sweetheart?" he teased with that smirk of his.

"Yes." you whispered, lips hovering closer to his.

"What are you needy for?"

"Your dick." you said and Felix laughed.

"I let you see it. And taste it. You're so greedy, baby."

"Yeah, I am. What are you gonna do about that?" you smirked, teasingly running your finger on his abs and chest.

"I guess I'll give you exactly what you need."

@moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @hwangjoanna @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @minniesverse @skzdreamer13 @0325ale @j-ji-jia @shannthewriter @mhluvie @my-neurodivergent-world @hyyunjinnn @spookybuttsstuff-blog @pancake-freckle @felixsbrowniesarmystayengene @minhooofr

[y3sterdaysproblem]

they said speak now - m.s.

summary: you and matt had been best friends since the moment you were born, rarely doing anything without him by your side. your families have always expected the two of you to end up together, but when matt gets a girlfriend that hates you and desperately attempts to destroy your relationship, you’re forced to confront the truth about your feelings for him. will your bond survive the test, or will the pressure of love, jealousy, and change push you apart?

wc: 1.5k

series masterlist

Part six

Everything felt normal for once. No girlfriend, no distractions, not even any brothers around, just you and Matt spending the day together like you used to. It felt good.

“Okay, maybe I was a little too aggressive on that kid, but he called Chris a bitch and that was fucked up! We were kids!” Matt laughs loudly from across the table, sending you into another fit of giggles. You both were at the new cafe in the city you asked to go to, sitting outside in the breezy summer air, each eating a little pastry as you sipped on your drinks.

“I call Chris a bitch all the time,” you remind him, raising your eyebrows slightly as you peer over your sunglasses at him. Matt rolls his own eyes, a sassy expression he’s mastered over the years. “Yeah, but that doesn’t matter. You’re like our sister, you could call us anything.” He tells you, grabbing his drink and taking a long sip of it.

Sister? Maybe to Nick and Chris but for Matt it felt different than a sister. You try to hide the way you want to grimace at his words, not only due to it hurting your feelings but also just the fact that the thought of him thinking of you as a sister felt a little gross when that’s definitely not what you were thinking when you were around him.

“I’m practically just an extension of all of you,” you joke, trying to stay on whatever weird path Matt was on. You both finish up with your pastries and decide to walk around for a little bit with your drinks, popping into a shop here and there, before deciding to plant yourself on a bench on a pier, legs swinging as you look out onto the water.

“So,” you start slowly, turning your head to look at Matt. He looks at you as well, nose scrunched up slightly as he squints to avoid too much sun in his eyes. “You really like Amber, huh?” Matt licks his lips, not fully expecting you to ask that but not completely caught off guard either.

“I do,” he nods, smiling slightly. “She’s really nice, she’s a good listener and likes talking to me, too, she remembers weird little things I tell her about myself or my family…” he rambles for a few more moments before sucking in a deep breath to stop himself. “I really wish you guys could see eye to eye. Every interaction you two have had has been negative and I’m not saying you have to be her best friend but I really do want her around and I just… I guess I’m just asking you to try.”

The way he’s speaking you can tell he’s being genuine. He has no idea you’re painfully in love with him, has no idea that it’s obvious to everybody except for him, including Amber. She could read you like a fucking book, see the way you look at Matt and know all of your secrets. You sigh and shift your whole body on the bench to face him, staring at his scrunched up expression.

“I’ll try,” you tell him, shooting him a tight lipped smile. “I’ll ask her if we can start over, take her out to coffee and we can try to have some sort of relationship. I’ll tell her that we’re nothing but friends and that you don’t have feelings for me.” Matt’s expression lights up at this, eyes wide despite the sun glaring in them. “Really?” He asks excitedly. You nod, reaching for your phone in your pocket. You unlock it and open your camera, holding it in front of Matt’s face and snapping a photo, laughing softly.

“Sun in your eyes,” you tell him goofily, showing him the picture. He laughs, too before bringing his hand up to his face, casting a shadow over his eyes. “I’m gonna go blind from forgetting sunglasses,” he jokes, but you laugh and nod along because that reality didn’t seem so far fetched.

The rest of the day goes by the same way, quality time spent with your best friend completely interrupted due to his girlfriend being preoccupied with her family. You wished it could be like this forever, even if you couldn’t call him yours, you just missed him always having time for you like he used to.

Later in the day, right before the sun was about to start setting, you guys found yourselves at the beach, laid out side by side with your arms folded underneath your head, eyes up towards the sky. “Do you remember your first crush?” You ask Matt suddenly, head turning to face him as he answers your question.

“Like, a real crush or a celebrity crush?” Matt inquires, turning his head to meet your eyes. You shrug as best as you can in this position. “Either. Both, if you want,” you answer him.

He hums, eyes darting around as he thinks. “Well my first celebrity crush was probably Megan Fox. Can’t go wrong with her, she’s been beautiful forever,” he starts, a goofy grin on his face. “And my first real crush was probably… well… you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, not expecting that to be his answer. “Me?” You ask in shock, your expression making him laugh as he nods his head. “I mean, yeah. We were together every waking moment of every day, of course I was going to develop a crush on you. Don’t worry, it went away a few years ago so you don’t have to worry about me secretly being in love with you.”

You laugh like you know you’re supposed to, genuinely finding it funny aside from the part where you wished he still felt the same, still wanted you the way you wanted him, but even if he did have a crush on you, who’s to say if it was even the same as you felt? Your feelings were all consuming, a sickening desire for the boy laid out next to you trapping your every thought, feeling incomplete without him there to be your missing piece. It wasn’t a crush, it was full blown love.

“What about you?” Matt asks, tearing you from your thoughts. “Hm?” You question, momentarily forgetting what you were talking about. “Your first crushes, who were they?” He reminds you.

“Oh, right,” you nod, pondering for a moment. “My first celebrity crush was probably… Logan Lerman in Percy Jackson,” you laugh at the admission, finding Matt’s nod of understanding slightly funny. “And my first real crush was… Chris.”

Matt gasps and his face contorts into disgust, a loud ‘yuck!’ leaving his lips. “Chris?! Not me?!” He squeals, rolling onto his side to face you as you giggled loudly. “He’s funny! He makes me laugh and he’s always been cute!” You defend through your laughter, not fully lying. Chris definitely was cute, but that’s all you thought when it came to attraction.

“But he’s so.. gross!” Matt groans, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I admitted to having a crush on you and you turn around and say you liked Chris. I’m actually disgusted and maybe even a little heartbroken.”

“Do you want me to have a crush on you?” You ask suddenly, secretly hoping he’d say yes, that his feelings never went away and he was just using Amber to try and forget about you. His eyes widen and he shakes his head, cheeks dusting pink cutely. “No,” he says shyly, lips curling into a small smile. “Not now, at least. Maybe a couple years ago but you were too busy thinking Chris was cute.”

You scoff, throwing an arm over your eyes to ignore Matt to the best of your abilities, knowing you’d never live down the admission of your Chris crush, but the reality of living with that versus telling Matt the truth seemed infinitely easier.

Ignoring him didn’t last long when he decided to grab a handful of sand and sprinkle it over your face, causing you to rip your arm from your eyes and smack his hand away as you sputtered and coughed, spitting sand from your mouth. “Ew!” You yell, grabbing your own handful to throw at his face, making him let out a mixture between a laugh and a cough, his eyes clenched shut from the impact.

You continued to play fight in the sand as the sun began to set behind you, the sounds of the crashing waves creating the perfect background music to the happy giggles that squealed from your lips, and you couldn’t help but wish it could always be like this.

But it couldn’t, and your life would never be the same as it was.

[heechwe]

NO DOUBT | 박종성

⟢ PAIRING: park (jay) jongseong x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 4.1K ⟢ GENRE: hints of comedy, smut ⟢ TAGS: ceo!jay, employee!reader, sexual tension for the win, pwp, dirty talk, oral fixation, pet names (pretty, princess, etc.), sir kink, degradation kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, breath play, spanking, creampie ⟢ SYNOPSIS: You hate your boss to an insurmountable degree, and he more than likely feels the same with the way he constantly berates you. But only when you finally give him a piece of your mind do you understand his animosity stems from a rather surprising place. -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy birthday to Mr. Park himself! This was so much fun to write even if I'm losing my mind at work myself, unfortunately. Thank you to my lovely friends for beta'ing for me once again—Linda @xomakara, Ally @lovetaroandtaemin, and Booki @kwanisms—and of course we all know the song that inspired the title this time.

You might have to kill Mr. Park, preferably with something incredibly sharp.

Every remark your boss throws at you, verbal or handwritten, trickles down your body like acid. It's a wonder you haven't been eaten alive by his criticisms already, the CEO cruel in his meticulous focus and scathing remarks.

These estimates look terrible.

My dog could create a better spreadsheet than this—before he chewed it up, anyway.

Do you always lack focus on projects like this?

Just because he's the head of Daydream Media does not mean he gets to parade around with the energy of a pompous cockatiel. As soon as the thought comes up, though, you shut it down. Cockatiels are much cuter than him, and probably a lot cuddlier too.

Working under the guy for twelve months, you know how unrelenting his desire for perfection can be. Starting his company straight out of high school, the business went from a passion project in his garage to a multi-tier musical instrument and audio equipment manufacturer that could make Yamaha blush.

Park's admirable work ethic drove you to apply for a job at his company in the first place. Yet, his need to micromanage others quickly overpowered all the qualities you first admired about the man. His head status practically ensures all he needs to do during work hours is oversee company meetings and sit prettily at his desk. So why did he have to be such a prick?

You're grumbling to yourself as you type out your response to his last email regarding your monthly sales report. Every clack of your laptop's keyboard feels and sounds like gunshots in your ears. You try to remember to stick to facts, keep your response level, and do all the things you've learned from years working with pretentious dickheads like Park.

But there's something about him specifically, the irritation he stirs in you so deeply ingrained beyond the surface of your dignity you can't seem to think rationally.

Your cubby mate, Sunghoon, notices the tension pervading your shoulders and neck, the veins in them close to bulging from your skin. He slaps you on the back with a manila folder, and you roll your eyes in response.

"What crawled up your ass and took a vacation?"

You give him your best fake smile as you punctuate your email's last sentence with a period. "Who do you think?"

"Santa Claus? I hate that fucker." Sunghoon's smirk can usually put you out of any funky mood you're in, but not today. You smile with closed lips instead, hoping the message gets across well. I love you, but it's not the best time.

You close the email and rotate your chair in his direction. Sunghoon may put too much gel in his hair and annoy you to no end, but he's your best friend, regardless. He's partially the reason you stick around the hell-ridden office you've made a home in for a year. "Mr. Park," is the only answer you give him to curtail his initial sardonic guess.

"Ah, head honcho." He flicks his gaze toward your boss's office, a stray hair whipping into his forehead. "What's he mad about now?"

"My latest stats for the new snare kits." You huff out a breath of air. Rubbing your temple, you try to curtail the impending headache on the horizon. "Don't know if he's pissed they're not selling as predicted or because I didn't make the headers on the sheet the right shade of green."

"Hey!" Sunghoon points one of his slender fingers in your face. "You know the guy uses night mode on his fancy PC all the time. He needs to see the projections, you heathen."

Just as a laugh is ready to escape your mouth, your computer pings. The notification reads the email is from the devil himself. As you click it to pop open the application in full-screen mode, you wonder what Park could say so quickly after you gave him a three-paragraph-length explanation on your report.

When you read the single line of text, any semblance of happiness turns to bile in your throat.

You'd think with your degree, you'd be able to spell "acquisition" correctly.

All the composure you tried to muster dies. Your jaw muscles tighten and your teeth gnash against each other as the words replay in your head over and over. He has no right, and yet he does at the same time. He didn't need to say it the way he did, and yet it's here in black and white for you to spiral because of, the exasperated and petulant tone practically hitting your eardrum in the way only his voice can.

You ruminate on your initial thought of murder, and you know even now—despite the ever-present reason to put the guy in a casket—it's childish.

But if you can't kill him, the less drastic option is to at least give him a piece of your mind.

Your chair bangs against the cubby opposite of yours when you stand up, and Sunghoon flinches. "Hey, don't do something you'll regret," your best friend warns.

"Trust me, I won't," you mutter quickly before storming off in the direction of the executive offices.

At lightning speed, you're in front of Jay Park himself. The man's ready to dig into a chocolate cupcake when you approach him.

"Do you get off on being an asshole?" The words come out biting and high-pitched, but every knot in your gut unfurls when you say it. His eyes bug out, and that gives you the perfect signal to continue before he can open his mouth with a witty comeback.

"I spelled one fucking word wrong in an email, and it was another excuse for you to pick me apart and prove you're the one calling the shots here. But having millions of dollars to your name or a shitload of success doesn't make you a good person. You treat so many people in this company like disposable pieces of garbage, when the only one who should feel like that is you!

"You're an arrogant, self-centered, irritable…" Your last words disintegrate on your tongue when you see the single pink candle strewn across his desk. The flame was puffed out long ago, but it tells you all you need to know.

You're giving your boss the proverbial middle finger on his birthday.

In the second between realizing you've been telling him off to considerable lengths for a long minute and the fact you've done so on his birthday of all days makes you flush. Your entire body drains of its color the longer you remain silent. How could you forget this day? Why did you have to find courage at the worst time?

He doesn't yell back, scoff, or do any of the telltale things you expect from him by now. Instead, all he does is laugh. He almost smashes his face into the cupcake in front of his lips as the chuckles exit his mouth.

"I thought Chaewon in accounting giving me this would be the highlight of my day," he lifts his cupcake for dramatic effect as he speaks, "but that…tirade has to be the best present I've had in a long time." He sets the cupcake down and stands up from his desk, but not before rolling the cuffs of his button up to his forearms, wiping the crumbs off of his fingers with disinterest.

You stutter, unsure how to continue now or what he plans on doing. As you try composing an apology, the automatic blinds to the windows that give Jay a bird's-eye view of the employee floor from his office come down. You slowly watch the people outside of the room leave the corner of your eye, and you gulp. "I—"

"I admire your courage, you know. Walking in here with that angry pout and little performance. I thought you couldn't get any cuter."

"I didn't pre-plan it," you interrupt him, some of your flare coming back in full color. Even as you say it, your mind hangs on his last word like a clothespin. Cuter?

You never would've expected that word to come from his mouth. Not in relation to you, anyway.

"Of course." His smile remains plastered across his face, but it doesn't meet his eyes. "Do you remember that team-building retreat in Seosan? It must've been around your three-month mark here with us."

You nod vigorously, going back to the memories of that vacation in your mind's eye. That word fits better, you think, when you recall sipping cocktails and lounging by the pool with Sunghoon and your mutual friend in sales, Jake. You did your typically professional routine by day, attending meetings and learning seminars like an astute employee. The nights that accompanied them were filled with fun and laughter you were glad to have with your new coworkers.

"Yes, I remember." You stand stock still even as he steps closer, the professional bubble on the precipice of being popped with every step he takes to get closer to you.

"Do you ever stop to think when my…excuses to pick you apart, as you said, began to occur?" He holds his fingers under his chin, pretending to contemplate the answer to the question with you, and while it riles you up, it leaves you more confused.

"It must've been…" You bite your lip, unsure what intentions are hiding behind his questions. "I'm not sure."

"One of the first emails I sent to you was marked right after we came back from the trip."

"I—I don't understand."

Jay laughs again, the sound hollow. "For an incredibly brilliant woman, it seems you need things made explicitly clear to you."

He's so close now, you smell the mint on his breath. It's intoxicating mixed with his cologne—Prada, you think. The mixture combined with his proximity makes your knees buckle a fraction. "Maybe something about you caught my eye, sipping Mai Tais one minute and being so prim and proper the next, and I've been spending the past excruciatingly long nine months trying to figure out what. All I know is that it's definitely not your penchant for spelling." His eyes gleam with sincerity, a rawness that you've never witnessed in his presence. This is the first time you've ever been alone together, truthfully.

"Respectfully, sir, there's nothing particularly eye-catching about me," you say meekly. "It's not like I'm the one with the company—"

Jay's lips slamming into yours is the last sensation you planned on feeling because of him. You can live with displeasure, annoyance, exasperation, but this is entirely new. He captures the inside of your mouth with his tongue, pressing in and probing like he's never felt someone more worthy of exploring before.

His fingers find purchase at your waist, and he takes your bottom half in both of his hands as he continues navigating your mouth. The spank he lands to one side pushes you further into him, and his body rumbles in delight. He's searching for the answer to his previous question; you can tell. What is it about you that's been driving him crazy, and continues to do so?

His intense physical analysis of you and your body makes you cry out, eager for more and not settling for anything else. Has this been always sitting under the surface, the tension you so adamantly assumed was hatred? You should've noted the way he stared at you from across the bar all those months ago, lights twinkling behind his head as he quietly observed you in all of your alcohol-flushed but starlit stupors.

Again, the words run around the two of you like a marathon, practically screaming in your ears: it's always existed, this tie between you both that you once assumed was founded on disdain.

Boy, were you fucking wrong.

Jay pulls away when he hears your moan fill the room. "Forgive me," he starts, "I just couldn't help myself." You must look breathless, seem dumbstruck, for him to hold you with such care and tenderness. You barely recognize the man in front of you, the tyrant you purported to know long gone.

He runs a finger across your bottom lip, and you can't fight the urge to take the digit into your mouth. When you bite down on the soft skin of his index finger, he groans. "I just apologized for my lack of control. Don't make me lose it again, princess."

The pet name shoots you in between the legs, your body jelly in his hold when his eyes stare you down so intensely. "What if I want you to…sir?"

He takes your throat in one palm and kisses you deeply, cutting off your breathing just a touch for you to focus only on his mouth. Like he's the only thing that can keep you breathing if you just give into him.

"I thought you hated me," he confesses in between kisses. He peppers them across your cheeks and takes a long pull at your mouth again before pushing you into the edge of his desk. You squeal when he lifts you up and sets you down on the glass tabletop, not stopping his barrage of kisses and licks to your skin.

"B-Because it's not normal to feel the opposite. To have a crush on your very powerful and intimidating boss isn't exactly smiled upon in the code of conduct, sir," you whisper as he trails his lips down your neck, across your collarbones. He even goes so far as to dip his nose towards the center of your cleavage. You never hated him, you realize. He frustrates you to no end, for sure, but that emotion clearly has many facets that you never dissected before.

"So you think I'm intimidating now?" Jay questions you with a lilt of humor that is unmissable. He unties your blouse and unclasps your bra in record time so both articles of clothing fall to the floor like raindrops, insignificant now that they're out of the way. It would be incredibly easy to get lost in the beauty of your chest, the peaks of your nipples and curve of your breasts, details Jay wants to take to his short and long term memory, but he's got a one-track mind that points south. If he enjoyed making you squirm with words before, he smirks to himself at how different it'll be for you when uses his body this time.

"I've always thought you were," you confess. You gasp when he bunches your skirt between his fingers to sit the material at your hips, exposing your lace panties. The fabric is soaked by now; you swear you can feel a damp spot forming under you and on his desk.

But he looks more than satisfied.

"Fuck, this is how wet you get?" The question is more for his ears than yours, and you whine from the lack of his touch on your skin, although you've had a plethora of that merely a second ago. You thought you were burning before, but now you're on fire and close to becoming ash before he's even truly done anything.

"Mr. Park, p-please," you beg, slightly gyrating against the glass desk for some relief. It's better than doing nothing to fix the ache he's created.

"It's Jongseong," he interrupts you with a smile. "Jay if it's easier pretty, but I do love it when you use my surname like that." He nips your lips again, licking inside your mouth lewdly.

"Lie back," he commands. It's hard to do as he asks with so much in the way, but the problem's immediately solved when he throws the contents on his desk—including his laptop—to the side. Everything clatters to the floor, but you fight the urge to react outwardly. The only physical reaction is your eyes going wide at the sound the clattering of his pencils, books, and electronics just made. Your reaction causes him to scoff, the sound on the edge of wickedness. "I can get all of this brand-new in a second. Don't focus on that," he says with his hands rubbing the outside of your thighs in tender circles, "and focus on laying down now, princess."

You let your bare back softly hit the glass. The desk is cold against your naked skin, but the sensation's immediately replaced by the warmth of Jay's breath against you. "You're beautiful. Just like I dreamed," he whispers, partly amazed and fully intoxicated, before diving in.

Jay immediately laps and sucks along your folds—the sounds of his mouth working your hole reverberating across the walls—as if he's been starved for decades. He takes your clit between his lips as a finger prods your center. The digit hooks inside of your core without issue. He eats you out like no man has ever done to you or for you before, his method alternating between long strokes of his fingers and little flicks of his tongue. How could heaven be so attainable with someone you initially saw as the devil incarnate?

"You asked me if I get off on being an asshole," he whispers into your cunt. "I don't. But I just might from touching you. You taste impeccable." He slaps your clit abruptly, making you keen. He presses the hand originally at your neck against your chest, your heartbeat thrumming against his palm. The tempo is all for him, a beat he wishes to hear on loop forever.

“It's like you were made for me," he whispers, "the perfect little slut splayed out like this." He inches your thighs further apart to see the way your hole glistens with his spit and your gathering arousal. The sight makes the strain of his erection in his slacks a touch more painful. It begs for him to do something else fast to relieve the surmounting pressure, but he puts off the urge for now. "I fucking love it."

"Jong—sir—I'm gonna come," you announce, the lower half of your center bumping into his chin harshly from how hard you're following the movements of his mouth. You shouldn't chase it so fiercely, but you want him to pick you apart in this way. You've never wished for anything more in your life.

And you know he'll put you back together just to repeat the process all over again.

"Come for me, princess. I want to feel it on my tongue." He replaces his finger with the wet muscle, dipping inside of you to lap up all of you before you completely crumble. Jay takes it all beautifully, allowing his face to be covered in you in the aftermath. You scream out as your release continues overtaking your better judgement. Your brain doesn't care how loud your cries of pleasure must be or have been.

Your coworkers saw you walk in here moments ago; they have to know what you're getting up to, legs spread for your boss and letting him use you for all of his fantasies. But, as you float back to consciousness, you don't seem to give a fuck about any of them.

"You did so well for me, pretty." Jay unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly just a touch to pull his cock from his pants. He hisses when he touches himself, and you know he must be aching from no stimulation prior to this moment. "Think you can handle one more?"

"Yes, sir, please." You say it with such a twinkle in your eye, Jay doesn't seem to care if he breaks the Italian-made iron of his desk. He has to have you, to cover your body with his and push you beyond your limits again.

Jay does exactly that, squishing you between his white button up and the glass underneath you, but you wouldn’t mind if he collapsed your lungs at this point. He's taken you to the edge of breathlessness by now, so there's nothing stopping him from fully toppling you over.

He slides inside of you without issue, your previous arousal creating the right amount of slip. But he's so big, his cock tightly filling your pussy with every inch, the tears that fill your eyes are unavoidable. "S-sir, it's t-too much—"

Jay halts the lie on your lips with his own, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip with a fierce power. "It's not nearly enough, pretty. You feel incredible, so tight. Such a tight little cunt, and all mine."

You nod your head as he thrusts, fat tears falling down your cheeks as he sets a relentless rhythm. The iron fixtures of Jay's desk squeak and tremble from how hard his hips snap up into you, but the only sounds he focuses on are your mewls and labored breaths. You're a vision, fucked out and trembling, and he can't picture a moment where you don't captivate his very being.

The answer to his earlier question hits him like a flutter of wind to the face: it's everything about you. Your relentless effort to every minute task that mirrors his own, your smart retorts to his endless critiques, the way your eyes crinkle at the edges when you laugh. It's all that pervades his mind, but the new images of your slung mouth and sounds you make on the brink of your second orgasm take precedence on the list of ways you enthrall him.

He reaches in between you to pinch and roll your clit against his thumb and index finger, feeling his own release on the tip of his tongue. "Come with me, princess. Let me feel it."

You don't need to hear it a second time to listen to his words clearly. You rattle around his cock like thunder that follows a stroke of lightning, your body shaking as your body surges with endorphins. If your first orgasm was bright and blinding, this one is all-encompassing and soul-shattering, threading into every seam of you so you don't forget how it feels to be pleasured so well, loved so thoroughly.

Jay comes right after you, his warmth flooding you as his body goes taut from his own shocks of numbing pleasure. You know he feels the same, with the way his brows knit together and his jaw slacks. His hips stutter to a full stop, and he can barely pull out of you without his body quaking. He watches the traces of his cum leak out, mixing with the arousal still surrounding your hole, and he knows he's in it now. He'll never go back.

You slump against him when he lays back on the table. The staccato of his heartbeat sweeps through your right eardrum. The muscle's tempo is an exact match for your own racing chest.

"I can't believe I was so loud," you murmur into the silence that follows your labored breaths. Jay looks down at you with a dazed smirk, and you giggle with a shy smile before tucking your face in between your fingers.

Jay takes both palms in his own to kiss, and semblances of the sweat on his skin touch you like dew. It's beautiful to be so wrong about someone, this gentleness he's displaying proving that fact perfectly. "The glass is laminated, and the rest of the walls are soundproof, princess. Nobody could hear you in here unless I truly gave it my all."

You smirk, unruffled by the fact your boss always thinks one step ahead of everyone, even in situations like this. "That wasn't your all?" You blush and tuck your face into his neck, the question rhetorical and teasing. "Seems you have a lot to show me."

"That I will." He takes your jaw between his fingers when he kisses you again. Mint still lingers on his tongue behind the traces of your arousal, and you could become a puddle again from how unreal it all seems. The past thirty minutes, the preceding moments before you walked into his office, and the plans that lay ahead for the future. "But not before I take you on a proper date."

Months later, you sit at your desk with only your boss on your mind, his eyes lingering on you even as his CFO Lee Heeseung discusses something menial with him. You try to go back to your laptop screen, the seasonal trends report for the new line of guitar strings begging to be completed, but it's no use. You're enthralled with the man across the office space, just like he is with you.

So when the email to meet him in his office for an "oral report" of the latest documented projections comes a few moments later, you don't question him, the man you love.

You thought you wanted to kill your boss before, but it was truly unexpected how many deaths—both little and enormous—Jay Park seemed to have in his pocket for you.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @jjunberry @frenchkisstheabyss @prkhaven @tinycatharsis @fangel @aaa-sia @yvnempire @addictedtohobi @innocygnet @filmnings @lovetaroandtaemin @xylatox @dawngyu

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ── .✦ @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @/moadiarynet @/pirateeznet @/thediamondlifenetwork @sweetvenomnet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[juli-2004]

1. What song makes you feel better? Hmm I’d definitely say Linger by The Cranberries or Summertime by The Sundays

2. What is your go to comfort show? I have many lol, Supernatural, Buffy and Angel, probably more but I can’t think of them right now

3. Reading or writing? Why? Definitely reading, I’m not good with coming up with writing ideas but I have written some things, pretty fun

4. What is your favorite feeling? Accomplishing something I’ve been wanting to do

5. How do you like to take care of yourself? I like eating as healthy as I can and having nice long showers with music playing

6. What’s your favorite candle scent? Strawberry or vanilla with coconut

7. Who do you feel most like yourself around? My mom or my bestie

8. What’s a fabric/ texture that’s nostalgic for you? A soft fluffy fabric for blankets

9. Best childhood moment? Playing videos games with my family whenever I could or going on my dad’s work trips with my family whenever we were allowed

10. When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? Probably last night when I was talking to my mother and we were joking around

11. Do you have a comfort item? I used to but I threw it out lol but I do love my bumble bee pillow pet that I still use as a pillow till this day

12. What calms you down? Crocheting or listening to music

13. Bath or shower to relax? I don’t own a bathtub so shower I guess (I’m lowkey scared of bathtubs too, I slipped in one when I was staying at my uncle’s house as a kid)

14. What’s something upcoming that you’re excited for? I would say the I Know What You Did Last Summer sequel, it’s coming out pretty close to my birthday and I love horror movies (nothing can beat the original obviously but I’m curious to see what they’re gonna do with this one)

15. Comfort food? Chips with salsa/ pico de gallo, makes me happy every single time

16. What’s something you wanna create soon? I’m hoping to work on a new crochet project soon (I should post my crochet items on here) also a new drawing

17. How do you feel best loved? When someone tells me something reminds them of me (I love when people know me so well)

18. What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at? No idea but I hope it’s soon lol

19. Have you ever written or received a love letter? I have written one but never received one

20. Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart. My first interaction with my bestie

21. Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa? All but coffee, not a fan of coffee (I know scandalous lol)

22. Name of your favorite playlist? 90s/2000s mix (I listen to it everyday I’m so happy I made it)

23. Have you ever received flowers? Yes but not romantically

24. Who is your best friend? Nelly and my mom

25. If your soul was a color, what would it be? A light pink or purple

26. If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring? I would say the states or Italy with my family, pets and bestie

27. Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something? I have tried but didn’t succeed however I would love to try again in the future

28. What are you proudest of? My ability to learn new hobbies quickly

29. Are you a kind person? I try to be… I hope people see me as kind, I like to think that I am

30. What do your hobbies look like? Crocheting, listening to music, watching movies, making edits, reading, trying to knit, drawing

No pressure tags: I have no one to tag lol but this was super fun to do

✨soft asks✨

What song makes you feel better?

What is your go to comfort show?

Reading or writing? Why?

Whats your favorite feeling?

How do you like to take care of yourself?

What’s your favorite candle scent?

Who do you feel most like yourself around?

Whats a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you?

Best childhood moment?

When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? (or just felt really good afterwards)

Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

What calms you down?

Bath or shower to relax?

Whats something upcoming that you’re excited for?

Comfort food?

What’s something you want to create soon?

How do you feel best loved?

What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at?

Have you ever written or received a love letter?

Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa?

Name of your favorite playlist?

Have you ever received flowers?

Who is your bestfriend?

If your soul was a color, what would it be?

If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring?

Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something?

What are you proudest of?

Are you a kind person?

What do your hobbies look like?

[acid-ixx]

making a new taglist ! comment if u want to be tagged (first come first serve though)

twas about to post chapter 6 tonight but we don't have wifi as of current (our entire neighborhood's wifi is down) to edit the chapter here in tumblr (and my data is real slow so i can't do a big post) so apologies for the delay <//3 i don't know when it will also return haha

but because of the delays, i may or may not add more here and there in the chapter. who knows, maybe alfred's perspective about the shitshow happening between the family and a deeper delve into your childhood with him. that's all !!! 🫶 hope everyone is still attached to this story as i am 😭

there's a lot to also unpack for the chapter. we get to see how deep conner's obsession would take place, a new cat, some (not all) of the arguments from the batfam, and a character i've been secretly writing about that i'm p sure nobody else could guess (tho idk if i should reveal her in chapter 6 or in future chapters, so that might be scheduled to change), and some other shenanigans i'm excited to post about.

[hitomisuzuya]

yandere!scaramouche. stepcest, DNI if it makes you uncomfortable. scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. fingering. degradation. creampie. this is kinda dark.

part one link:

https://www.tumblr.com/hitomisuzuya/781303428566663168/yanderescaramouche-stepcest-dni-if-it-makes-you?source=share

thank you for your concern, everyone 🥺

you couldn't have felt any lower. you tried, honestly you had. you'd gotten into a relationship thinking it would curb your huge crush on your step brother. but, as scaramouche guessed correctly, your now ex was an asshole.

and now here you are, sitting in front of scaramouche in his room, on his bed with your cheeks flushed from utter humiliation of your complete failure, and more than feeling a little hurt. your thoughts are racing.

was it because when you were being intimate with your ex, you were always thinking about the times scaramouche got a little handsy with you, having to suddenly stop when he heard the front door open?

or was it because you talked about him sometimes to your ex?

on one hand, scaramouche felt his ego stretch a little. after the breakup, you didn't go to your mom or your friends for comfort. you had come to him. he could practically taste your vulnerability.

you are practically gift wrapping yourself for him, and damn it if he didn't want to take advantage of that. but still, he held himself back for the moment. you did look sad. whether you realized it or not, it showed.

"c'mere," scaramouche said, patting the bed next to him. he sees your eyes light up for a moment, and he is surprised by how quickly you moved closer to him on the bed. "look, if you makes you feel any better, i always thought he was a jerk," it felt so good to say that out loud, and it is said in comfort to you, which is a bonus for him.

you manage a wobbly smile. "well, you have always been a good judge of character," you feel your heart flutter like it always does being this close to him. you look away shyly, and that instantly told him that you had more to say.

"hm? what's rattling around in that pretty head of yours? if you want to shit talk him, fire away," he decides to be a little bolder with his words, and is relieved to see you crack a little smile.

you feel a blush burning your cheeks as you look back at him. "well i," you began, trailing off. you didn't really know what was compelling you to say what you said next. you shouldn't say something so intimate to your step brother. you sigh, wanting to pick your words carefully.

too bad for you that you didn't know your fate was sealed the moment you went to scaramouche for comfort. and you are only going to dig yourself deeper.

he says nothing, curiosity flickering through him. he can tell you are thinking, and his silence was giving you space to think. no matter what he is always two steps ahead of you.

maybe even four steps considering he'd listened to you fuck a vibrator inside you, while you tried to stifle whimpers of his name. his hand twitching towards his cock with every whimper outside your bedroom door.

"he has never made me cum before," you decide the best course of action is to be straightforward.

scaramouche is surprisingly stunned by this for a moment. he didn't think he'd ever heard his innocent step sister be so straightforward. he exhales a shaky breath. "say that again," he moves so fast you barely had time to react.

he snatches your wrists up, and before you knew you are on your back on his bed, with your wrists trapped above your head. he is hovering over you by the time you recover, your eyes a little wide, the blush burning a little warmer on your cheeks at the position you are suddenly put into. "he never made me cum. not once."

"you poor thing," scaramouche purrs, letting go of your wrists to grasp your chin to make you look at him. his cock started hardening with every word you said. "you want your big brother to make you cum?" some of the threads of his control started to snap a little.

"w-what?" it was your turn to be a little blindsided, and you are more than used to his blunt disposition. you are quiet for a moment before you nod. why not throw all caution to the wind and just give in? you are so in love with him it hurts.

that's exactly what you did. you fought so hard to try and convince yourself you didn't have feelings for him. but you epically failed at that in the end.

you are breathless as suddenly presses hungry, open mouthed kisses on your lips, his pierced tongue devouring your mouth with ease. his cock pulsed stronger seeing you angle your body to aid him in hastily removing your clothes.

you shiver the moment his elegant hands connect with your bare skin. "so responsive," he breathes, licking his hips seeing you in only your panties, "that makes you all the more easier to break," his fingers stroke along your thigh, beckoning you to part them as goosebumps dot your skin.

"don't worry, i fuck you properly. you'll cum so hard on my cock that you'll cry," he presses slow circles on your clit outside your panties. you let out a soft moan, your hips twitching up to grind on his fingers, your pussy clenching hearing his words, your clit throbbing from the friction of your panties clinging to it.

he teased you just enough to make you start squirming as your moans rose in octave before he removes his hand to take off his clothes. "let me make one thing clear," you shiver hearing his more dominant tone.

"i don't want you hold yourself back like you did with did with your dirt bag ex," he peels your panties from your clit, drinking in the sight of your puffy pussy. something he has wanted to see for so long. "i want it all. every bit of you," you let out a loud moan as his fingers find your throbbing clit again. "am i clear, slut?'

your pussy clenches around nothing at his words. "i understand," you reply shyly, your thighs trembling as the friction in your clit builds up again.

precum beads onto his cockhead. "you just stay sweet, just like that," his fingers stroke down to your entrance, "now, let's see," he plunges two fingers inside you, applying pressure a little more on your sensitive walls as he scissors them apart. he searches around, brushing against sensitive spots until you suddenly cry out.

scaramouche chuckles as your hips rock up. "there it is," he sussed out your sweet spot so easily. he curls his fingers into it, utterly bullying it until your head spins, your walls clenching tight on them. "i bet he never made you feel this good," he taunts, watching your pussy drool on his fingers.

"n-no," you moan breathlessly, "i always wanted it to be you," out the confession came, urged on by the pure pleasure of your step brother's fingers fucking into you.

"you slut," he smirks as he pulls his fingers from your pussy, "i'll bet you wouldn't have stopped me if our moms didn't walk in while i was holding myself back from fucking you," he groans, his cock pulsing as he puts a pillow under your hips.

his hands hold your thighs apart as he pushes his cockhead past your entrance. he moans as he feels your tight heat enveloping his cock. "fuck, i love that he never got to see you like this," the angle of your hips gives him perfect leeway to push deep inside of you, "falling apart and my cock is before my cock isn't all the way inside you."

the rubbing of his pubic bone on your clit made pleasure burst warm through you. scaramouche groans as you close your legs a little, increasing the friction on his cock as he thrust. "oh fuck, it feels so good!" you cry out between a volley of shameless moans. his cock pulses harder as he nudges deep and calculated into your sweet spot.

he slows his pace down for a few beats, forcing you feel to feel every pulse and rub of his cock before he pulls your hips forward, fucking you onto his cock. "that's right, whore. i promised you would cry. now cum all over your big brother's cock," he moans, reaching down to smack two fingers on your clit.

a pleasure you never felt before suddenly rushes over you at once. you are senseless as you cum shaking, the tears stinging at your eyes rolling onto your cheeks. "there's my good girl," his groaned praise heightening the intensity of your orgasm.

the squeezing of your pussy as it gushes on his cock ushered in his orgasm, making cum rope thick inside you. "finally," he moans as his cock empties, "be a doll and finger my cum back inside yourself."

[celestialtarot11]

Your FS personality and their lifestyle 💐🩷

Hey friends! Welcome back! As requested: here ya’ll go! My semester is ending and its been so crazy here as I’m getting ready to leave :) i hope you all enjoy the reading below. Any and all comments, reblogs and likes are sincerely appreciated! Keeps the blog active if you’d like to continue seeing more content. ☀️💐 I do love spring and lately im even more excited for the blessings summer will bring!

♡ Pile 1:

Hanged man, 6 of pentacles, king of cups, 9 of swords

Hey welcome here pile 1! Your FS is incredibly emotionally intelligent and aware of themselves and others <3 it’s so sweet I feel like they could be a vet, doctor, nurse or a practice at the moment. Even a school counselor, advisor, a researcher. They prefer to wear comfy luxurious clothing—nothing that screams in your face, but they come across as light on their feet, ethereal, graceful. I’m hearing they hold the room with ease meaning their energy is what captivates the room. Your FS is also someone who struggles a lot mentally because they are so aware, and this isn’t uncommon in intelligent people. Sometimes we know too much. Your person tries to think of all possible scenarios, outcomes, ideas, etc. it can get difficult to manage. They are curious, and love joking around and have this sense of home to them. Therefore they’ll also take care of the home too, they might have an established apartment/house. Something that really draws people in, and makes people wonder how they have that money to support themselves. They can also live alone at this time, but ate open to helping others. Super super generous and kind, they may have libra, or water placements in their chart 🤍 they see the good in others and try to elevate people. They are seen as stable, calming and supportive. I also feel like they have a lot of wisdom—you’ll know right off the bat of meeting them! You won’t need time second guess that they are intelligent <3 they can even have a pisces placement as well! Or you can meet them in a pisces month. Or this could be you with a pisces placement :) they do love spontaneous adventures like hiking, camping, anything to do with “home” and coming together they really enjoy. They can cook very well—i heard salmon soo they really enjoy cooking 😩 I’m talking really good salmon. Too tier food!! Its also aesthetically pleasing to look at, because they have an eye for detail. They also could be in a prominent position at their work right now where they are seen as again, an advisor, manager, admin, counselor, consultant of some kind and they generate a lot of money off of this. They don’t feel stressed out about their home life & financial situation! And if you need their help financially they will be there, they’re so blessed they are able to help others too <3 ultimate golden retriever energy. They might have blonde hair, leans ash blonde, dark blue eyes. They may have a youthful appearance, especially their cheeks and eyes make them look smaller and younger. They might have the smile of a wealthy person (im not sure how to describe this) its more of an energy of when they smile. For female I see brunette hair, she might have a business or job surrounding occupational therapy where she helps others. Your person likes ASMR lmao. Thanks so much to everyone reading this <3 I appreciate any and all support!

Craving more insights? I do personal readings too—deep, detailed, all about you. Tap [here] to get your own magical reading today! Limited spots, and I love tuning into your energy.

♡ Pile 2:

Knight of swords, knight of cups, strength, 5 of wands

Heyy welcome!! Thank yall for being here. Your person is so so conversational and wears their heart on their sleeve <3 you’ll see it right away. They are strong in their values and prefer to have relationships that are heart centered, touching and fun. They also like to be a fun person—not just someone who is nonchalant, im hearing they cant stand that energy! They give life so they need life. Possible zodiac signs include Leo, Aquarius/gemini. They are so talkative in a way that’ll have you giggling, they know exactly how to talk your ear off and they’re so sweet. They’re incredibly loyal to their friends and to you once you meet them. They may prefer to wear softer colors, colors that aren’t typically expected for their gender…? So they definitely could have experienced gender differences and double standards for sure. But they’ve honed in their identity now and aren’t afraid to show it. They are charismatic, enigmatic, they also may love synth music with a lot of reverb or just songs that sound ethereal. Like pastel ghost, crystal castles, etc. they have an electrifying presence and its zappy—and fun! They may seem one foot in the door way because their mind has so many tabs open lol. I feel that they are the type that when something great happens they think of you. “I cant wait to tell you about this moment.” And they’ll hold onto that for the rest of their day :) thats so cute. As for their family background i see a lot of tension, there’s disagreements and conflicts possibly because they do not have an education, or they took a different route that involves trade school. Or they were undervalued by their family a lot for being softer—people mistook that for weakness. It doesn’t even have to be family related it could be friends too. Their ex friends! They have worked on themselves emotionally and they have a lot of resilience and patience, and although sometimes they can speak without thinking, they mean well. Their brain just goes everywhere at once! Im hearing they could have ADHD too. They have a lot of big dreams, ideas, visions for their future! They often get overwhelmed by their fantasies because they sometimes dont know how to create it, how to cultivate it, or bring it into reality and hold it. Not just letting it in—but holding it. Allowing themselves to receive. They struggle with worthiness there. They can have a father figure who is very traditional, leans cold & distant and prefers logic over emotional matters. I also saw 11:11 as I write this! So even more confirmation for you. They honestly have a whimsical heart at best and although this father figure shunned it, they learned to reveal it elsewhere :) Thanks to everyone who has been here! Please like comment and reblog to boost <3

Craving more insights? I do personal readings too—deep, detailed, all about you. Tap [here] to get your own magical reading today! Limited spots, and I love tuning into your energy.

♡ Pile 3:

The fool, strength, magician, and 2 of cups

Hey welcome pile 3! Appreciate having you here :) your person is a interesting mix. Like a cocktail lol. They are free and adventurous and open but practice restraint and discipline. They don’t want to be reckless—they want to enjoy without hurting themselves which is a great trait to have. They are charismatic, powerful speakers even. They could have a job where they are a speaker, consultant, legal consultant is what I heard, they could be in therapy, social work, they could work with children in a way! They are seen as a strong leader, bold and cheerful and intelligent. They also feel confident in themselves to succeed and they are quite optimistic in their approach to life. Im hearing life dealt them a cold hand and so thats why they work with disadvantaged people, people who were oppressed and hidden by the system. Especially children. They remember what its like to be stuck. This person really truly cares about one on one connections, they don’t do well in group settings but they try. They mostly focus on seeing the person in front of them completely and because of this people get scared of intimacy is what I heard. Your person has a lot of emotional depth and even spiritual awareness. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were practicing spirituality or reconnecting with ancestral roots. They have healed and alchemized a lot of their past pain. Random note they may have a cat. Lol. Your person is incredibly loyal—but first they do come forward strong so people wouldn’t step all over them. Theres definitely apart of them that years for emotional comfort & their past, but this isn’t something people see easily unless you’re close to them. They love nurturing their inner child, their inner child comes out a lot in supportive connections. They are currently looking for that in their life <3 having someone else who is their other half. “You’re my sun, im your moon” is what I heard aww. Thats cute. This person is hopeful they’ll be meeting you soon! I wonder if you’ve also been in sync with this person energetically and receive so many signs and dreams about them lol. Almost drives you nuts! But you love it :) speaking about nuts they might be allergic to it. Kinda random lolll. Their possible signs could be in a water sign (cancer scorpio pisces) or fire! Thanks to everyone being here! <3

Craving more insights? I do personal readings too—deep, detailed, all about you. Tap [here] to get your own magical reading today! Limited spots, and I love tuning into your energy.

Extra

Thank you all once again for being here <3 your follows are sincerely appreciated!

Paid readings🩷

[yvaineseleneposts]

A Rare Off Day

A/N: It's currently spring break which means it's time for me to do things that I never get to. So I thought I would write a little cute story about that.

Requested: no

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Teacher!Reader

Words: under 1k, she's a shorty

Warning(s): none, it's very fluffy

The sun peeked through the window blinds, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor of your small Hoboken flat. It was 9:12 AM—a miracle. No alarm had gone off. No lesson plans or early practices. Just peace.

You rolled over and found yourself face-to-face with Nico Hischier, whose tousled hair and slow-blinking eyes made him look even more like a dream.

"Good morning," he said in that low, sleepy voice that always gave you butterflies.

You blinked. "Wait… don’t you have morning skate?"

He smiled, eyes crinkling. "Nope. Day off."

You shot up. "What?! Me too! Spring break started today!"

Nico sat up with a smirk, rubbing his hand through his hair. "I may have had a calendar reminder set for that."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "You’ve been planning something."

He got out of bed and pulled on a hoodie. "Get dressed. Comfy clothes. I’m taking you out."

Half an hour later, you were driving down a scenic route in New Jersey, Nico's hand resting on your thigh while the playlist you made for him played through the speakers. You couldn’t stop smiling.

He eventually pulled up to a quiet little farm outside the city—a spring pop-up market filled with fresh flowers, pastries, and handmade crafts.

You looked over at him. "This is adorable. How did you even find this?"

He shrugged. "Asked some of the wives. Figured we always do my stuff—games, dinners with the team. I wanted today to be your kind of perfect."

You slipped your hand into his as you stepped out of the car, surrounded by blooming cherry blossoms and the soft hum of acoustic guitar from a nearby busker.

The two of you wandered through stalls, trying homemade jams, buying way too many candles, and laughing when Nico tried (and failed) to milk a demo cow at the kids' corner.

Later, he laid out a blanket under a big oak tree. From a basket he’d tucked in the boot, he pulled out sandwiches, chocolate croissants, and your favourite iced tea.

"I feel like I’m in a rom-com," you said, taking a bite of your croissant.

He leaned back on his elbows, watching you. "You deserve one. You put so much of yourself into your students, your job... I wanted to give you a day when you didn’t have to plan or think."

You leaned over and kissed him softly. "Well, mission accomplished, Captain."

He laughed. "Just wait. There's one more thing."

As the sun began to set, Nico drove you to the Devils’ practice facility—empty now, but a single lamp lit up the ice. He led you inside, and there, sitting in the penalty box, was a pair of rental skates and your favourite hoodie of his.

"You said you missed skating since college," he said shyly. "Thought maybe we could have the rink to ourselves."

You blinked at him, touched beyond words. "Are you kidding? This is perfect."

And it was. You skated hand-in-hand, occasionally falling, mostly laughing. You even scored on him once (he might have let you). And when you were too tired to keep going, Nico skated behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as you glided slowly across the ice.

That night, curled up in bed with sore feet and a full heart, you turned to him.

"Thank you for today," you whispered.

He kissed your forehead. "Thank you for letting me be part of your life, even when our schedules are crazy."

You smiled. "I guess we make it work."

And with his arm draped around you and the quiet hum of the city outside, you drifted off—grateful for the rare day when everything finally aligned.

[zant8024]

Mainline Mark Grayson x Male!Reader headcanons and I guess a mini fic..? (First time posting, but Invincible has a chokehold on me)

You and Mark Grayson had been boyfriends for a while now, however you were an ordinary college student and he was Invincible, your lives were entirely different once he got his powers, there wasn't much time for you both to spend together. However, windows of opportunity did come every now and then, but he was often pent up and clearly frustrated… not at you of course, but the way his eyes never left yours, as something more than just longing simmered beneath the surface.

Pent Up Mark Grayson, who is desperate to lay his hands on you, mapping out every inch of your body against his and ensuring that every inch of you isn't neglected. He's so pathetic and needy, but also controlling and demanding at the same time, the duality of his desperation for you, sending tremors across your body.

Pent Up Mark Grayson, who presses soft kisses across your neck and collarbones, being gentle at first, as he takes in your scent and moans into your ears. He tells you about his day like it's the most important thing in the world, whining about how much he missed your touch, your scent, your body against his. His soft kisses turn into harsh nips and bites, leaving dark bruises to bloom across your neck, much to your pleasure but also humiliation, as you had classes to attend to the day after. You had a reputation to maintain and couldn't be seen as a walking whore across campus, yet the way Mark's lips pressed against your skin felt absolutely right…. sinfully so…

Pent Up Mark Grayson, who apologizes breathlessly against your ear, grinding his clothed erection against yours, his hard cock creating a noticeable bulge beneath his suit, the friction becoming all the more intense as his body heat seemed to only intensify with each passing second. Despite apologizing for how rough he's being, the freshly dark marks that cover your entire neck and chest tell a different story.

Pent Up Mark Grayson, so desperate to be inside you is already leaking copious amounts of precum when you both undress each other. His erection presses against yours and almost immediately his hips buck against yours, grinding and pressing both your cocks against each other. He ruts against you like an animal in heat, panting against your ear, as a strong arm is wrapped around your waist, while his other hand is wrapped around your neck.

"Need you so bad Y/N please… let me have this fuck…. need to be inside you so badly, I promise I'll be gentle, just say you need me too baby…" How could you say no Mark when his glossy eyes were locked against yours, expression torn between lust, desperation and need for you.

When you nod and silence him with a kiss, he pushed you towards your bed and continued to bombard you with heavy kisses.

Pent Up Mark Grayson, who despite his desperation and need to be inside you, to claim you as his in the most primal way possible, actually takes his time prepping you, using the lube on your nightstand to stretch you out, his fingers working their way through your tight heat.

"Does that feel good Y/N..? You're always so tight no matter how many times I fuck you…" Mark's hot breath washed over your neck, his lips trailing from the shell of your ear, down to your neck where he left more hickeys.

Pent Up Mark Grayson, who lets out the most guttural and sinful moan when finally sheathed inside you. His big cock creates a thin outline on your stomach, a testament to his girth that was spreading you apart.

"Do you see that baby?" His large hand would press against the outline on your stomach, his eyes locked against yours in sinful desire. "Always so tight for me… my fucking Good Boy~"

Pent Up Mark Grayson, who angles his cock just right to abuse your prostate with every deep thrust, sending you over the edge and eliciting loud moans to escape your lips. He never gets bored of how pathetic and needy you are beneath him, how equally hungry you were for him to take you like this. He wishes he could stay like this with you forever, if there was a way where he would become one with you, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Pent Up Mark Grayson, who cums deep inside you, filling your tight heat with his molten seed and sending you on the brink of insanity, as your orgasm washes over you, ruining the bedsheets you both were rutting against.

Pent Up Mark Grayson, who despite ravaging and claiming you thoroughly, takes aftercare seriously and ensures that you are properly soothed and tucked into bed, as his large frame wraps around you, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

[galacticwiseguy]

I mean, impossible to say, right? I doubt it's usually a complete blank slate, seems likely there's a smooth spectrum from "obligate specific orientation [including obligate bisexual, people who would be attracted to folks of varying presentations no matter what society you raised them in]" to "total blank slate, eventual orientation is a roll of the dice based on what they're exposed to" with, I would guess, relatively few people at either absolute extreme.

The rise in incidence of queer sexuality would presumably be mostly folks with a pretty mild inclination towards gayness that previously would have been overridden by heterosexual cultural signaling. they're supplemented by a handful of folks with a mild natural inclination towards straightness who end up experiencing bisexual attraction thanks to stumbling on to the right signals in adolescence or whatever, signals which are much more prevalent now than they were in the past.

I'm not talking about how people choose to identify or behave, I think that the actual mechanisms of attraction are probably way more malleable than people think. Queer people put an enormous amount of effort into claiming that those mechanisms were utterly ironclad, because nobody at the time was willing to accept the idea that anyone who could possibly be straight should be allowed to be gay instead. And it's clear there are many people who were locked in from birth or just from a very early age. But at this point in the discourse I think we can admit that claiming 100% of gay people were like that was a useful debate stance not a literal fact.

Since there's no way to check the counterfactual and tell someone who's obligate gay apart from someone who's contingently gay, it's impossible to say how many are in each group; I just think "there are some of each" is by far the most plausible hypothesis, considering how everything else about human sexual/personality development works

I feel like "thanks to bisexuals and gen z" deserves a place in the tumblr meme phrases

[seresinhangmanjake]

What He Has To

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Reader

Summary: Despite being betrothed to Rabban, you've been having an affair with Feyd for months. The two of you agreed to stop once you're married, but Feyd decides that doesn't work for him.

Notes/Warnings: Sort of smut, i guess (so 18+). Arranged marriage. There was a request for a fic with Rabban, and though there were a lot of other details included in that request that did not make it here, this was what the request inspired. It kind of took on a life of its own. Sorry.

Words: 3300

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Feyd POV

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. He only intended to take something valuable from Rabban. But in the process of the theft, Feyd tasted the thing that rightfully belonged to his brother, and once he tasted you, he couldn’t stop. He hasn’t stopped. 

He’s enjoyed having you too much. He likes that your eyes always search for his if the two of you are in the same room. He likes that you spend more time in his bed than in the one in your guest quarters. He likes that all of your touches belong to him, and only him. He likes that you don’t speak his brother’s name.

When Feyd convinced you one night to fall into his bed, he imagined the look on Rabban’s face upon learning that his most desired object had been defiled by another. He planned to call Rabban to his room the following morning and show his brother exactly what he’d done, presenting you with his bedsheets pooled around your hips, displaying your bare back as you slept on your stomach. The thought alone was enough to keep him up the whole night in anticipation. 

But once the time came, he couldn’t do it. Where Feyd’s rage rests at a sizzling, low boil, bursting when necessary, Rabban’s is a constant overflowing wave. He would’ve killed you on the spot. Shoved a blade into your spine before your eyes had opened for the day. Your blood would’ve seeped into Feyd’s mattress before he’d gotten an opportunity to kiss you one final time. So, instead, he proposed that what had formed between you remain a secret, and to his satisfaction, you were willing and wanting the same.

“Just until the wedding,” you told him as you rocked back and forth on his cock for the second time. Between kisses and moans, you said, “We can’t continue this once I’m married. I can’t risk anyone suspecting that his heir might belong to someone else.”

In a lust-addled haze, Feyd agreed. But ever since, his clear mind has heavily protested. 

Would you pretend to enjoy being with his brother? Would you moan for him? Whimper? Bite your tongue when Feyd’s name threatens to tumble from your mouth? Or worse, would you like it, and bask in the attention enough to find pleasure. Is it possible that your eyes could squeeze shut and lips could part with shallow breaths without the memories of Feyd rolling around in your mind? Could his brother really learn your body better than he has?

Thoughts of you in Rabban’s arms, Rabban’s lips attached to yours, Rabban’s fingers grazing over your skin, turn Feyd’s stomach each time they slither into his head, so aggressively he nearly loses whatever meal most recently consumed.

If he could change the rules of his world, if the future Baron of Giedi Prime was decided based on skill and intelligence, not age, then he would have you. You would have him and the title of Baroness. Agreements between Houses would be kept, and all involved, with the exception of his incompetent brother, would be pleased. But altering a hierarchy is not easily done, if possible at all.

—

Reader POV

It’s the last night. Tomorrow, you will be married, and what you and Feyd have will cease to exist, leaving you only with captured memories of how he feels, of how he makes you feel. 

You pray those memories can sustain you through a lifetime wedded to his brother. You beg whoever is willing to listen that time does not shrivel those memories to scraps. You can’t allow every bit of him to be taken from you. If you can’t be with him, then you deserve the remnants of what you’ve shared to remain fully intact and accessible whenever you need them. 

Turning your head, cheek meeting pillow, you watch him sleep. He’s unnaturally peaceful, and the sight of it tightens the organ in your chest. So handsome, beautiful lines and edges that make up the features of his face. Not like Rabban, whose features seem to bulge off of his rounded head. 

It is those differences that will make it impossible to sneak around with Feyd behind Rabban’s back once you are married. Should you fall pregnant with Feyd’s child instead of your husband’s, upon birth, it will be much too obvious. You will undoubtedly be put to death, your baby discarded, and Feyd likely shamed in front of all of Giedi Prime for disrespecting his uncle’s strategic arrangement between House Harkonnen and yours.

You twist onto your side, placing your palm on Feyd’s cheek and stroking his sharp cheekbone with your thumb. His skin is smooth, soft, and you always find it fascinating. While most people learn to harden their outer coating to protect their squishy insides, Feyd’s hardened insides are protected by a supple shell—one more difference between him and his brother that you cherish. 

You lean in closer and press your lips to his. One second, two seconds, three, then he’s replying to your kiss, groaning, tangling his fingers into your hair, and flipping you onto your back. 

He slides into you. Rests his forehead on yours. Your eyes stay locked together, exhales playing and curling around one another. 

It’s on the tip of your tongue—the declaration. Just a few words that sum up what you know you’ve been feeling for a while. But you can’t give it to him. To do so will only make it harder to cleave the two of you apart when morning comes. It will make him all the more unwilling to let you go. And should he repeat those words back to you, all hope, minuscule as it is, that you might one day find peace without him will vanish. 

Feyd thrusts deep. Your walls pulsate. You feel him fill you. 

He stays there for a moment as he rests his comfortable weight on top of you, lips hovering a half-inch above yours. 

“Don’t drink it,” he whispers.

You blink. Your brow pinches. Your body squirms the slightest under his. He’s never asked that of you. “I have to.”

Finding purchase on his muscles, you push him off of you, and despite despising the emptiness now between your legs, it doesn’t stop you from sitting up and reaching for the tonic on the bedside table that ensures no child will plant within you. 

Feyd sighs and falls onto his back, forcefully dropping his head into the pillow. He stares at the ceiling as the rim of the bottle touches your lips.

You pause to look at him, and for a moment slip back into the recurring dream of what might come of you putting the bottle down, leaving your tongue untouched by the liquid. Something lovely could grow inside of you. Menacing, but lovely. And were it truly a choice, you would make it, pray for that outcome. But it isn’t a choice. You both know it.

You take a deep breath, then swallow the bitterness in the bottle. 

Feyd turns over. His back faces you.

—

Feyd would have kissed you once it was announced in front of the Great Houses that you were officially man and wife. Rabban doesn’t, and you are thankful for that. 

You don’t want his mouth near yours. Nowhere near your body. Earlier, when his lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered what he intends to do with you once you’re alone, you flinched and clasped your fingers together to keep their trembling unnoticed. 

This morning you believed it would be fine, that you could settle into the role of the agreeable, dutiful wife. Despite knowing you will always love another, your priorities remained set on fulfilling your purpose for being sent to Giedi Prime in the first place. But that was before you were married. Now, you’re not convinced you can play the part required of you without great difficulty. Peace between Houses no longer feels as vital to you as it once did. However, you’re not so selfish as to neglect that the opposite is true. 

From across the room, Feyd is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and eyes fixed on you. You’ve seen him angered before, you’ve seen him indignant; you know what that looks like on his face. But the downward curve of his lips and the divet between his brows display those emotions more clearly than ever. 

Internally, you will him to stop. Should anyone notice him staring at you for too long, they will catch on. You’ve been on Giedi Prime for months—everyone is aware of it—and, as rumor has it, you wouldn’t be the first child of a Lord to stray from their betrothed before the day of their wedding. Months are enough time to partake in a premature affair, enough time to develop an obsession. And obsession, possessiveness, is written all over Feyd’s hard-set features; it bleeds from the tension in his body. Anyone with half a brain could guess what is going on, and no one in attendance tonight is a fool.

Should your affair be discovered, or even suspected, there will be harsh punishment awaiting you, and you can’t begin to imagine what horrors a Harkonnen could inflict. But when Feyd gives you a final steely look before disappearing from the party, you, too, slip away.

You’re just going to talk to him, set him straight, tell him to get it together if he cares for your life. When you find him, though, he appears too erratic to listen to anything you might say. Back and forth he paces, mumbling and shaking his head as long, aggressive strides carry him up and down the hallway. 

And then he notices you, and he stops short. His chest is rapidly filling and deflating. You open your mouth, but before you can utter a word, he is stomping toward you, grabbing your face in his hands, and slamming his lips onto yours. 

He swallows your noise of surprise as each of his steps forward pushes you back until your spine hits the wall. The impact shoves the air out of your lungs and you break the kiss to release it. 

Your heart is throbbing, beating so violently you think it may burst and coat your ribcage. It nearly does when he leans in to kiss you again, but you turn your head away before lips can connect.

“Don’t,” he says.

“We discussed this. We agreed.”

He holds your head firmly in place, forcing you to look at him. The sheer determination in his glare is overpowering. You couldn’t break your locked gazes if you tried. “I don’t care.” 

“It doesn’t matter if you care,” you retort, grasping his wrists and ripping his touch from your face, only for his hands to plant firmly on the wall on either side of your head.

The stare between you is dense, thick, but then it begins to shake, shake more recklessly with each second until it shatters, and you have to look away once more. If you don’t, you’ll give in completely. And you can’t give in. 

To solidify your decision to have last night be the last time you’ll ever have him, you drew a line between you. And that line is the sole method you have to ensure mistakes will not be made. If you cross it, you know you’ll forget the existence of the line altogether. One mistake will become two, two will become three, and it will only be a matter of time before those mistakes are uncovered. 

With your eyes to the ground, you swallow hard enough to strain your throat. “I’m not doing this,” you tell him. Then you duck under his arm, intent on heading back into the party.

Before you can get three steps in the right direction, his fingers wrap around your bicep. You’re jerked backward. Chest flush with his, your mouths meet, and this time, as you feared, you’re made a fickle fool of. Your body gains a mind of its own. It conquers and rebels against your brain, making you rise on your toes, link your arms around his neck, and kiss him with as much fervor as he is giving, as if to negate the idiotic things that left your mouth moments ago. 

Your back hits the wall again. Hands graze down your waist to the swell of your hips. Fingers fist the fabric of your gown and pull the material up your legs. Cold air touches your thighs, partially shielded by the warmth of one of his palms on your skin. As that warmth inches toward your center, you hear the unfastening of his pants. It’s that sound that shocks you out of your drunken state. 

You tear yourself apart from him and shove at his chest until he stumbles out of your space. Your dress falls back down your body.

“I can’t,” you mutter, unable to look at any part of him other than his boots, and even that proves to be a challenge. Seeing where he stands just four feet from you, you could grab him and pull him close, kiss him some more. But you don’t. 

He doesn’t make another move toward you, so you command your legs to stop their wobbling before heading back down the hall and reentering the reception.

—

As you wait to be escorted to your husband, you run over the list you’ve compiled, the options you have laid out to aid you in getting through the night. Alcohol consumption being one. Feigning illness, another, though you’re not sure how effective that would be.

You decide that you’ll think of Feyd. You’ll shut your eyelids and imagine it’s him. His mouth, his grunts, his fingertips digging into your waist as Rabban holds you and thrusts over and over. You’ll do that every day for the rest of your life if you have to, praying that Rabban never does anything to dispel the trick you intend to play on your mind. You hope he doesn’t speak, his voice not quite the same octave as Feyd’s. You hope he doesn’t kiss you, his lips not close to the fullness of Feyd’s. And as horrified as you are to think it, you hope his cock is similar to Feyd’s. If too large or small, too thick or thin, it will be a struggle for you to mentally replace him with the man you love.

A knock breaks through your racing thoughts. You stop picking at your cuticles and make your way over to the door. When you open it, a Harkonnen guard is on the other side.

This is it: your final moments of knowing only Feyd’s touch and taste. Your nose stings as you tamp down the budding tears. The guard doesn’t notice the glassiness of your eyes as he turns his back to you and starts down the hall. Or maybe he does notice and simply doesn’t care.

Following like an obedient child trailing after its mother, you walk from the guest rooms to the adjoining section of the fortress that holds the rooms of the Lords. Your gut somersaults when you pass Feyd’s room. That’s where you should be going. That’s where you belong. 

You wonder if he has locked himself in there for the night, if he’s drinking himself stupid to forget the reality of your fate, as you would be doing had he married another woman. You picture him throwing things, fragile items flying across the room, glass shattering. You picture his fists bloodied and bruised from slamming into walls. You continue to picture him as Rabban’s room comes into view.

With a straightened spine, you prepare yourself for what’s to come, but when the guard does not stop, confusion creases the space between your brows. “We’ve passed it,” you tell him.

“Baron’s orders,” is all he says, and you trek onward.

Minutes of being led through the fortress finally come to a halt outside the council room. Important things happen in there. Decisions are made. Discussions are held that you would not normally be privy to. Married to a Harkonnen or not, you’re still a foreigner, and foreigners' opinions hold little weight with any matter concerning Giedi Prime. Everyone, including the guard in front of you, knows you have no purpose here. So why are you here?

The guard pushes through the door. He enters first, his broad back blocking your sight as you step in behind him. 

“Ah, and here she is,” the Baron says in his gritty voice. The guard moves aside, allowing you to take in the space: the Baron seated on a throne placed at the top of a short set of stairs; Feyd standing at the base of those stairs, facing his uncle. “Come closer, girl.”

You feel your blood rushing, fuzzing in your ears, but you do as you’re told, your legs carrying you to Feyd’s side. You both keep your eyes forward. Your head briefly dips in the Baron’s presence. “My Lord.”

A grumbling sound acknowledges the gesture of respect, then he wastes no time getting started. “I have some troubling news,” he says, weaving his fingers together and resting them on his swollen stomach. “We have been informed of an unexpected...tragedy.”

Your heart stops. He knows. He must know. You and Feyd stand before him at this unusual hour, and for what other reason would there be than to face punishment for your lewd acts of defiance and disrespect? Tragedy is the foolishness, the idiocy of brazen behavior that will snuff out the rest of your life. Any moment, guards will take you by the arms and drag you to a cell to await public execution. 

Death is a fate you once thought preferable to marriage with another man. However, much worse is knowing you will never look upon Feyd’s face again, you will never be in his presence, and that is a thought so unbearable you realize you would rather survive, even if survival means a miserable existence without him in your arms. 

Your shoulders tense as you listen for Baron’s final judgement. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he crooks his finger at the servant to his left, ordering her to bring him his pipe. As he shoos her away, his lips wrap around the tube, sucking in deeply, then heavily releasing a plum of smoke.

“My nephew, it seems, has met his unfortunate end,” he says.

Bits of shock trickle through and taint your composed expression—brows raising, jaw slacking and lips parting. Surely that does not mean what you think it means. Your head snaps to Feyd, but he still doesn’t look at you, so you refocus your attention on the Baron.  

“I don’t understa–” you start.

“A poisonous substance was consumed,” the Baron says, taking a long draw from the pipe and holding it in his lungs. “And death is the consequence of ignorance and weakness; that is all you need to understand.” He coughs, clears his throat. “Fortunate are we to have a competent spare.”

“A spare?”

“You will wed Feyd-Rautha,” he tells you. “Our arrangement with your House will remain intact.” Your muscles go rigid. Suffocation follows the collapse of your chest. You’re not sure you’ve heard him correctly, but then he says, “The ceremony will take place in a week’s time,” and your knees just about buckle under your weight. 

You get yourself together enough to dip your head once more in agreement. To your right, Feyd does the same, and for the first time, you notice the calmness radiating from his body. Not once did you hear a shift in his breath; his fists did not clench at the discussion of his brother’s untimely death. He had done nothing but stand there in silence.

“What did you do?” you whisper.

A beat goes by before he answers.

“What I had to,” he says.

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

24: THE SPACE BETWEEN US

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter (pending)

Summary: Bucky struggles with regret, trying desperately to communicate with you, but every attempt is met with silence— until you leave him a message of your own. As your friendships remain strained and trust shattered, Bucky takes a step toward making amends. Meanwhile, an unexpected visitor reminds you that even in grief, you don’t have to be alone.

Warnings: Angst, emotional distress, strained friendships, themes of betrayal, mentions of past deception.

Word Count: 3518

It had been a long two weeks for Bucky. He tried repeatedly to talk to you in any way possible, short of forcing himself through your door. He knocked every day, sent you text after text until he noticed that you weren’t even reading them anymore.

Finally he decided to write it all down. He sat at his kitchen table, an untouched bottle of beer sweating next to him. It was almost two in the morning and the sound of traffic outside his window had finally died down. His hand hovered over a piece of paper, the pen in his hand tapping against the page in a nervous manner. His fingers on his vibranium hand twitched softly as he resisted the urge to crumple it up and throw it in the trash.

There was already a pile of balled up pages on the floor where he had started over four times. Every time, the words felt wrong, or impersonal. Like it was too little and too late.

But if this was his last chance, he would be damned before he let it slip away.

He took in a deep breath and then exhaled sharply, forcing himself to hold the pen and write. He had never been good with words, not like Sam was now or Steve had been. His specialty in the past has been charm, but that wasn’t what you were looking for now, it was about finding the perfect thing to say— it was about telling you the truth.

With every word, every sentence, his chest tightened, making the events that had transpired feel more real. The way he had hurt you, the way you had looked at him, like a stranger instead of a friend, instead of a partner.

He pressed harder against the page as he signed his name, creating a blot of ink next to the ‘Y’. He knew he had no right to ask you anything, let alone read this letter. But he owed you an explanation.

He stared at the finished product, not daring to read the words back for fear of getting cold feet. But he could see how uneven his writing had become from how his hand shook while he wrote. Slowly, he folded the paper, his thumb and forefinger running over the crease, lingering at the edge for a moment before he stood up.

His throat felt tight, as he stood in the hallway outside your apartment door. There was silence in the building except for Alpine purring around his feet. He bent down and scooped the cat into his chest.

“What do you think, girl?”

He let the feline sniff the letter before she gave him a look of disgust.

“Yeah, girl, I know. But I don’t have any other choice.”

Alpine climbed onto his shoulder and he bent down and pushed the letter under your door before he had the chance to second-guess himself. He returned to his apartment and settled down on the floor in front of the television.

Would you read the letter? Would you tear it up? Would you ever forgive him?

He sighed. This wasn’t about him anymore.

The same two weeks were as agonizing for you as they were for Bucky. Your phone screen time had gone up dramatically as you spent hours staring at the tiny device. It wasn’t only the bright light that was affecting your sleep, it was the maelstrom of negative emotions that waged a war for dominance of your attention.

It was 11 AM on a Saturday morning, and normally you’d have already been to the gym and showered to start your day, but today you could barely bring yourself to get out of bed to use the toilet. You stared down at your phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard as you typed out message after message in the Power of Three group chat, only to delete them before hitting send.

Finally, you forced yourself to press send.

11:11 AM - You: Can we talk? Please.

11:11 AM - You: I know you guys are mad, and I don’t blame you. But I miss you both.

11:12 AM - You: I didn’t know, you guys. I swear I didn’t know. I would never have brought him if I did.

11:12 AM - You: I’m so sorry.

The messages were marked as read almost instantly, but no one replied. Aditi, the one person in your group who always had an opinion, stayed eerily silent. And Hanna, the peacekeeper, didn’t rush to smooth over your transgressions.

11:15 AM - You: I love you.

You texted before putting your phone down, a tear slipping down your cheek. Crawling out of bed, you decided to take a shower and try to work on some commission designs. But as soon as you sat down with your tablet, you couldn’t concentrate. Your mind drifting back to the way Aditi looked at you, like you were just as bad as Bucky. And the disappointment in Hanna’s eyes. It made your heart ache.

Hours passed by with nothing. And just when you were ready to give up hope altogether, your phone vibrated. You snatched up your phone to find a message from Hanna.

3:57 PM - Hanna: I’m not mad at you. Just… disappointed. I don’t understand why you thought you had to pretend. I thought we told each other everything.

3:57 PM - You: I know. And I hate that I hurt you. Please can we just talk?

Hanna didn’t reply right away, but her answer gave you some hope.

4:14 PM - Hanna: I’ll let you know when I’m ready.

Aditi, on the other hand, hadn’t said a word.

Bucky didn’t know what else to do. It was coming up to a month since you’d last spoken to him. You showed no signs of wanting to speak to him. He had stopped knocking on your door. His text messages went unanswered. Calls sent to voicemail. And on the off chance you met in the corridor, you went out of your way to take the stairs to avoid him. You showed no signs of having read the letter he had left.

In short, he was running out of options to reach you.

So he decided to go back to basics.

The little whiteboard on your door was still there— the one the two of you had shared notes and jokes on when you’d started out in this doomed venture. The last thing you’d scrawled on it was “Don’t stay up too late, grumpy pants” was still there, albeit a little smudged.

Now, it felt like the only form of communication he had left.

So, he rubbed off your writing and uncapped the marker, writing the only thing that would fit.

I’M SORRY.

It didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of how he felt… but it was all he had. He stood there in the hallway, gripping the marker so tight, his knuckles were turning white. He let out a shaky sigh as he replaced the marker and turned back to his door.

The next morning, Bucky opened his door.  There was a crunch under his feet. When he looked down… there it was. Snapped in half.

He crouched down, picking up the pieces, he ran his fingers over the jagged edges of the broken plastic.

He turned it over and saw the smudged angry writing.

One piece had the letters

TED YOU

He frowned and turned over the second half.

I TRUS

He put the pieces together with shaking hands.

I TRUSTED YOU.

The marker had bled over some of the letters where you’d pressed too hard. He could feel your rage, your hurt.

You hadn’t just broken the whiteboard. You had broken him.

He let out a shuddering sigh, holding the pieces of your shattered connection. For a second, he thought about throwing them away.

But he didn’t. He turned back into his apartment and shut the door behind him.

Bucky stood outside the gates of the Sharma Estate, fists clenched and shoved in his pockets. The tall metal gates made him feel like he was standing outside a guarded fortress. The residence looked different now, in the cold light of day, without the decorative flourishes. It felt as though the weight of everything that had transpired still lingered in the air despite three weeks having passed. He had pressed the buzzer but there wasn’t an answer yet. He wasn’t sure if they would even let him inside after what happened. Not that he would blame them. He half expected them to slam the door in his face. But none of that mattered, he couldn’t let that deter him. He owed them an explanation, he owed it to you.

What was it Sam had said to him a year ago? You go to these people and say "sorry" because you think it'll make you feel better, right? But you gotta make them feel better. You gotta go to them and be of service.

Seconds stretched to minutes as he waited, his collar popped up around his neck, shoulders tense. It was something he should be used to by now— being a man who stood outside begging for any scrap of forgiveness for the crimes he hadn’t meant to commit. But today he didn’t plan on leaving until he had said what needed to be said. 

Finally, the door swung open, and Hanna stood at the entrance, her arms crossed and expression tempestuous. The warmth that he had seen reflected in her eyes was gone, replaced with an icy fury,

Her voice was cold and commanding, almost cutting through Bucky’s resolve. “What do you want, Barnes?”

Bucky met her hard glare. “To explain.”

Hanna scoffed. “Explain? Now you want to talk? After the fact?”

Before he had the chance to say anything further, Aditi appeared behind her wife.

The feeling of guilt in Bucky’s chest deepened as she emerged from the shadows. She looked… exhausted. Not just tired, but worn down, like the fire inside her had been smothered, leaving the ashes of sorrow and disillusionment behind. It looked like she had lost the will to fight, overwhelmed by the feeling of sadness and betrayal.

Aditi pulled the oversized cardigan around her slim frame, tightly folding her arms over her chest, as if it would shield her from any further heartbreak. “Why are you here?” she asked, her voice flat and lips pressed into a thin line.

Bucky hadn’t expected to meet such little resistance, he had thought they would have raged at him. He only hesitated for a second, not wanting to lose his opportunity. “I owe you both an apology.”

A sharp, bitter laugh left Aditi’s lips, making goosebumps rise on Bucky’s arms. “An apology?” she said hysterically. “For what, exactly? For getting my father arrested? For breaking up my family? Ruining my wedding? Oh, how about lying to my best friend and making her believe you actually cared about her?”

Her last question made him flinch. He had cared… still cared. But he knew that there was probably nothing he could say that would convince them otherwise at the moment. But he would do his best. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“For everything,” he admitted, sadly. “I had no intention of ruining your big day. I didn’t think they would try to hurt your father. And I sure as hell never wanted to hurt… Y/N.”

Hanna cut in, her expression dark with anger. “But you did.”

“I know,” Bucky’s voice was quiet and filled with sadness. “And I’m sorry.”

Aditi sighed heavily. “I thought I’d be more angry at you. But it’s my dad who I’m really mad at. I just can’t believe he’d do this. I feel like my whole life has been a lie. But… I miss him.” Her voice broke and Hanna wrapped her arms around her wife.

Bucky nodded, understanding. “I asked Sam to put in a good word for him. He’ll still have to answer for what he did, but… he won’t be locked up forever.”

Aditi fought back tears, clutching at Hanna for comfort and support, as though her wife was the only thing keeping her together. “That doesn’t fix anything,” she whispered.

“I know,” Bucky said. “But.. it’s the best I can do.”

Hanna shook her head. “That still doesn’t excuse what you did to Y/N.”

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it again, running his hand through his hair. “I didn’t—” he stopped, trying to catch his breath. “I wasn’t trying to… it wasn’t meant to be… Okay yeah, it started out as a mutual agreement… something fake. But it didn’t stay that way.” He poured his earnestness into his words. “It wasn’t fake to me.”

Hanna clicked her tongue in disbelief.

“It still isn’t,” Bucky insisted.

Hanna’s expression softened for a moment but she was still hesitant in her belief. Aditi, however, remained impassive, her body language closed off, her gaze unreadable. Bucky recognized the signs of depression, he was all too familiar with the signs, it was almost like looking into the mirror.

“I didn’t come here to make excuses for myself. I understand why you are angry at me. But Y/N—” His voice choked around your name. “She didn’t know anything… she wasn’t a part of this.”

Aditi’s lips pressed together, but she didn’t interrupt.

“She brought me to the wedding because she thought it was real. She even told me I didn’t have to come,” Bucky admitted, voice thick with regret. “But I insisted. I wanted to be there.”

He saw a flash of something in Hanna’s face and she looked away from him. He could see the moment of doubt in her resolve, the way her rigidity lessened at his words. He had to keep going.

“She’s hurting,” he went on. “And I know I’m the one who hurt her. But please… don’t take it out on her. If you need someone to be angry at, let it be me. I can take it.”

Aditi let out a tired breath, she snapped repeatedly at a hairband around her wrist. Her anger had already given way to grief. Hanna however hadn’t moved past that stage.

“She trusted you,” Hanna snapped.

Bucky flinched. He knew that. God, he knew that.

“I know,” he said hoarsely. “And I broke that trust. I don’t expect her to forgive me.” His hands curled into fists at his sides before he forced them to relax. “But she deserves better than to lose you two over this. Over something I did.”

Silence stretched out between them.

Finally, Hanna sighed. “You really fucked up, Barnes.”

“Yeah.” He let out a humorless chuckle and mumbled. “I know.” He looked at her wife. “Aditi?”

“We’ll see,” she muttered after a long pause, her eyes downcast, her affect totally flat.

Bucky stepped away, turning to leave. He’d done everything he could.

It wasn’t absolution, but Bucky would take what he could get.

Winnie pushed past you the second you opened the door. She was surprisingly spry for someone her age. She walked in, glancing around your apartment before settling herself at the kitchen table.

“You know, Arthur and I always liked this apartment,” she mused, setting down the box she had brought in with her. “But when we moved in, it was occupied and then once we got settled, we never had the heart to move. You’ve always kept it so cozy, not too cluttered. But… you could use a little more light, dear.” She gestured at the half-drawn curtains.

You managed a small smile, sitting down opposite the older woman. “Haven’t really been in the mood for bright or cheery.”

Winnie studied your face for a moment, humming softly. “That I can see.” She tapped on the round container she’d placed on the table. “Which is why I brought this. It’s one of my pies. Figured you could use a little comfort food.”

“A pie?” you repeated.

“Yes, dear, a pie,” she shook her head dramatically. “You know how much I love pies?”

You nodded.

“Well, it seems that my doctor has decided I can’t have pies anymore.” She folded her arms over her chest and hrmph’ed in disapproval.

“Wait, what?”

“Diabetes,” Winnie explained with a huff. “Mild, but still. They want me to cut back on sugar. No pies, no cookies, no fun, apparently.” She sighed again. “But I made one anyway. Couldn’t help myself. Then I thought— well, I shouldn’t eat it, but maybe someone else needs it.” She gave you a sympathetic look.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you answered, looking down at your hands.

“Oh, I know, my dear,” Winnie said lightly. “But I wanted to. But judging by the way you’ve been looking lately, I figured you needed it more than I do.”

You bit your lower lip lightly, a moment of silence stretched out between you, before you finally spoke. “Thank you,” you said, quietly.

Winnie patted your hand gently. “Of course.” Then, after a pause, she added, “Now, why don’t you tell me how you’re really doing?”

You let out a small laugh, reaching out for the pie container, finding it easier to occupy your hands than answering the question. “I’m fine. Just been… busy.”

Winnie snorted, making you look up at the unexpected noise in surprise. She shook her head and gave you a knowing look. “Is that what you call it these days?” She tilted her head, it was the same look your grandmother used to give you when she was working out how to address the fib you’d just told. “You know, my Arthur just used to say that when he was avoiding something. He had this way of fooling himself into thinking that keeping occupied would be easier than dealing with whatever was eating him up inside.” She tapped a finger on the table and then pointed at you. “You strike me as the same kind of stubborn.”

“I’m not avoiding anything,” you grumbled.

“Mmm-hmm,” Winnie raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“I’m not,” you insisted, avoiding Winnie’s gaze by prying the lid off the pie container.

“Alright, then,” Winnie went on, a little too casually. “If you’re not avoiding anything, I suppose you don’t mind me asking how you’ve been sleeping?”

“Fine,” you answered lightly, but your grip on the lid tightened.

“And eating?”

“Totally fine.��

“Uh-huh.” Winnie folded her arms. “And that big storm cloud hanging over your head— when’s that supposed to clear up?”

“Winnie!” you groaned, massaging your temples.

“Don’t ‘Winnie’ me, dear. I know heartbreak when I see it. And you’ve got that look.”

You shrugged, your throat suddenly feeling tight. “I just…” you let out a shaky sigh. “My best friends won’t talk to me. They might never talk to me again,” you voice cracked and you hated it, hated how hard it still was. “And Bucky—” You stopped, biting down on your lip again, holding back your tears.

Winnie listened and nodded as you spoke. “That’s what I thought.” Winnie leaned forward and took your hand in both of hers. “Y/N, losing people… really losing them… it’s awful. But you haven’t lost them yet.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Winnie squeezed your hand gently. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve been around long enough to know a thing or two about making amends. But first, you have to be willing to hear the whole story.”

Her words made you stiffen, an overwhelming feeling of weariness coming over you. “You agree with what he did?” you asked, quietly.

Winnie leaned back and sighed. “I won’t say I agree with everything… but I understand it.”

“What did he tell you?”

She studied your face for a moment. “He told me how things started between you— that you wanted a date, how it was supposed to be just for show.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Did he mention that it was his idea? And he wanted me to do the same for him?”

Winnie ignored your acerbic tone. “He also told me that he thought it stopped being just a deal. How somewhere along the way, he started feeling something real. That he was too afraid to tell you how he really felt, and now… now he’s terrified that he’s lost you for good.”

You closed your eyes and sighed heavily, looking away for a moment, trying to hide your pain.

“My dear, I’m not saying you have to forgive him. But you need to figure out why you’re so angry. Is it because of what he did? Or because you think he doesn’t care?”

You clenched your jaw. “I’m angry because he lied.”

“He did…” Winnie agreed. “And he’s sorry for it. But do you really believe he never cared?”

You looked down at your hands, picking at the remains of your manicure.

Winnie stood up, patting your shoulder. “It's time for me to go. Just think about it.”

And with that, she gave you one last knowing look before heading for the door.

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