#this changes everything and sometimes not

[astrolook]

🎨💍Appearance & Traits Of Future Spouse In Astrology🌸🌹

Note: These are just my personal observations and recurring patterns I've noticed over the years. Take what resonates with you and leave the rest. Feel free to share in the comments if any of this hits home. This post is based on Vedic astrology.

👀 Future spouse looks according to your 7th house sign

Aries - Their cheeks light up when they smile and that natural blush is everything. A reddish or sun-kissed complexion is common. Might be prone to rashes or sensitive skin. They’re outdoorsy like horseback riding, racing, biking, anything that gets the adrenaline pumping. 🚴‍♂️🏇Killer smile alert😍 Might even have cute freckles sprinkled across their face. Big beach lover too. Sun, sand, and salty air are their happy place.🌞🏖️

Taurus - Your future spouse might be average or short in height 🧍‍♂️, with a naturally attractive look that feels effortless either unusually good-looking or just conventionally beautiful 🌸. If it’s a husband, expect thick, bushy hair and a strong beard 🧔‍♂️; if it’s a wife, she’ll likely have looooong, dark hair 🌑 that gives off major classic beauty vibes. They tend to gain weight easily 🍰, often looking soft, chubby, cuddly, and touchable. If it’s a wife, she’s likely blessed with beautiful curves think nice breasts and a shapely butt 🍑 along with THICC thighs; if it’s a husband, strong broad shoulders and a sturdy chest stand out 💪. Your Taurus spouse will probably be obsessed with skincare and haircare 🧴, always smelling good and looking polished. And don’t be surprised if they’re big lovers of dairy products like cheese, milk, ice cream 🍦🧀 and their fridge is probably always stocked.

Gemini - Your future spouse will have a youthful vibe that’s almost androgynous. You might not be able to tell their age just by looking at them. For a wife, maybe keeps short hair or bangs and for husband keeps a trendy haircut. They talk with their hands constantly ✋👐 and have a way of moving that’s light, quick, and expressive. Physically, they tend to be on the slimmer side, sometimes looking pencil-thin ✏️. Their style changes like the weather 🌦️ one day casual, next day edgy, next day business chic. They have a fast metabolism and are total foodies 🍔🍟. Sarcastic jokes and a killer sense of humor are their signature traits 😂. They’re the type to love hiking, mountain climbing, or even just climbing trees for fun 🧗‍♂️🌳. Vacations twice a year are practically a necessity ✈️🏝️, and honestly, they probably watch p*rn casually too (just saying). Hobbies could include camping, bungee jumping, skydiving, and anything that screams "adventure." They love taking pictures 📸 of wildlife, landscapes, selfies, you name it and social media is basically a second home 🧑‍💻. They also bounce back super quickly from any illness 🛌➡️🏃‍♂️.

Cancer - Your future spouse might have a round, expressive face 🌝 that you’ll find super endearing. If they gain weight, a little double chin could show up extra cute, honestly. Their upper body tends to be stronger than their lower body 💪, with slender arms and legs 🦵, but if they do gain weight, a protruding belly might be noticeable 🍩. For a wife may have mild health issues like medicinal allergies or diabetes 💊, while for a husband, he might deal with blood pressure concerns 🩺. Thick, juicy lips 💋 are common, often with a little mole somewhere around or below the lip. Their eyes are large and full of emotion 👀, and their skin tends to be oily or combination type 🌿. Cancer spouses love calm, cozy hobbies like fishing 🎣 or decorating their homes with flowers 🌸. They might be into "boring" TV shows just to pass the time 📺 (think old reruns or cooking channels). Husbands usually aren't big on workouts as they prefer the couch life 🛋️, or minimal workout sessions while wives tend to be amazing cooks 👩‍🍳, the kind who whip up the best homemade meals.

Leo - Your future spouse’s hair will have wild, untamable energy, literally vibing in the 4th dimension 🌪️. Whether it’s long or short, curly or straight, their hair will somehow stand up and blow in all eight directions when they’re outside 😂. When they’re on the phone 📞, they don’t just talk, they scream. Honestly, you could tell them to skip the call and just shout at the nearest cell tower. The receiver would still hear them loud and clear 📡. They overshare everything like waking up at 3:47 am, going to the restroom for exactly 5 minutes 🚽, falling back asleep at 4:20 am, then waking up again at 7:05 am, all reported with dramatic precision. Their storytelling is basically line-by-line commentary 🎤. When stressed or angry, they might break things (accidentally... or not) 🥴. Despite everything, they’ll want to stay the absolute center of your life 💖 even after kids show up. Lovely, right? 👑

Virgo - Your future spouse might have noticeable under-eye dark circles 💤 either from insomnia or just too much late-night thinking. They have an oval face shape 🥚 and might naturally have a flabby or weaker body, but if they commit to working out, they pull off that strong, young, smirky, slightly quirky little bastard/bitch vibe 😈. Definitely an old soul trapped in a youthful face. They love the dark 🌑 and might be obsessed with reading dark thrillers, mystery stories, mangas, or anything slightly eerie 📚👻. Sitting alone in a dark room doing absolutely nothing for hours? Yeah, that’s their version of "recharging." Might struggle with insomnia 🌙 and there’s a good chance they wear glasses 🤓. If it’s a wife, think "sexy librarian" look 📖; if it’s a husband, the "sexy college professor" vibe is strong too 👨‍🏫. Later in life, they might dream about (or actually) living off-grid 🌾 away from the noisy city and getting into farming, or at least growing their own veggies in a backyard garden 🥕🌻.

Libra - Your future spouse will have a super well-proportioned body like everything just perfectly in place. Their hair is often curly or they love styling it that way 💇‍♀️, adding even more charm to their beautiful face 🌸. Later in life, they might struggle with gaining weight around the lower body 🍑. If it’s a wife, expect a thicc body that turns heads; if it’s a husband, thicc thighs and strong legs are the signature move 🦵🔥 and prefers clean-shaven look. Personality-wise, they tend to keep people at arm’s length 🤝, mostly because they overthink and struggle with making decisions sometimes. Either way, they’re either a heartthrob or a heartbreaker and no in-between 💔💘. Deep down though, all they really want is to sleep 🛌 the kind who can pass out in 5 minutes flat, like some kind of magic trick 🪄. They love gaming 🎮 or getting into long, blunt conversations about politics or random topics and no filters here 🗣️.

Scorpio - Your future spouse could have bushy eyebrows or thick eyelids that instantly catch your eye 👁️. Their gaze is intense, the kind that silently screams "I’m hiding a dark secret" 🌑. After meeting you, a major career shift could happen too like destiny nudging them onto a new path 🔮. If it’s a husband, he might either masterfully control his emotions 🧊 or secretly cry to you at night 🌙. If it’s a wife, she’ll probably be super emotional and break down easily 💧. They love watching birds 🐦 and often want pets around them for comfort 🐕🐾. No matter who earns more, somehow they end up managing the money 💸 (and doing it really well too). They're dreamy types who can get lost in thought, but when disappointment hits, it hits like a storm 🌪️. They hold onto past memories for a long time still grieving over a betrayal or a loved one death from 2020 like it was yesterday 💔. Fashion-wise, they swing either futuristic or full-on old-fashioned styles 🕰️👗. Either too open-minded or conservative in relationships. They’re also big on hustling always plotting a second source of income behind the scenes 🛠️.

Sagittarius - Your future spouse might have a noticeably large forehead 🧠 and either be tall or love wearing heels or chunky shoes just to look taller 👠👟. They’re super open-minded and frank, the kind who’ll never judge you, no matter what 👐. Adventure runs in their blood, so don’t be surprised if they’re into racing, extreme sports, or trying every cuisine under the sun 🍣🏎️. They're often bilingual or even multilingual 🗣️🌍, and after marriage, having more than one home or constantly moving could easily be part of your life 🏡✈️. Could be into military as well, in some cases. They might collect random treasures too like coins, artifacts, vintage stuff 🪙🏺. Spiritually, they swing big: either very religious, spiritual ✝️🧘‍♀️, or, if Jupiter is retrograde, they might be more agnostic or atheist 🙃. Deep down, they live by "my way or the highway" energy 🚗💨. They also forget stuff easily and are experts at misplacing things around the house 😂🔑.

Capricorn - Your future spouse might have a broad forehead 🧠 and if it’s a husband, a receding hairline could start creeping in before 30 😂. They tend to have a mature look, no matter their actual age 🎩. If it’s a wife, she might spot her first grey hair before 30 or have fine/ thin hair 💇‍♀️. They’re usually into cars 🚗, politics 🗳️, and are sarcastic to the bone 🗯️. Husband could have big hands and feet 🖐️🦶, totally noticeable. Addictions are a theme too either coffee ☕ or some other guilty pleasure they just can't give up. Total multitaskers 📈, they manage a huge circle of contacts, and their phone hangs from the sheer number of notifications 🔔📱. When it comes to buying stuff, they live by "the bigger, the better" 💵 but weirdly stingy when it’s not food or clothes 😂. They'll happily invest in a brand-new phone every 1.5 years without fail 📱✨.

Aquarius - Your future spouse might love dyeing their hair 🎨 like blue, pink, red, blonde, anything goes. They've probably gone through at least one surgical procedure before 30 🏥, either for health reasons or cosmetic tweaks. Their mind is pure detective mode 🔎, and when they lie, you literally can't tell if it’s the truth or not 🤷‍♀️. Masters at debates and throwing out facts like mini grenades 💣📚. Some might even elope for marriage 💍✈️ or have a destination wedding somewhere wild. They’re into offbeat stuff like comics, gaming, obscure mangas, or books nobody else has heard of 🎮📖. Always supporting indie artists and filmmakers 🎬🎨. Activism could be in their blood too ✊, standing out from the crowd without even trying. They thrive in night shifts or just get way more alive in the evening 🌙🦉. Open-minded, non-judgy, and smart workers 🧠⚡. They usually have one slightly "off" facial feature like one eye bigger than the other 👁️👁️OR a small nose bump 👃OR a lip mismatch 💋 but weirdly, it makes them unusually attractive, like beautiful but you can’t quite put your finger on why. Totally magnetic 🛸✨.

Pisces - Your future spouse might have super smooth skin that literally glows under the light and large dreamy eyes 🌊👀. They love activities like swimming, hiking, camping off-grid, or fishing, anything that gets them close to water or nature 🏕️🎣. Their moods are intense: if they’re sad, they sulk 🌧️; if they’re happy, they’re floating on cloud nine ☁️💖. They have a tendency to abandon things halfway 🏃‍♂️💨 switching paths when you least expect it. Sleep issues are common here 🌙💤. In early life, they might have struggled with drinking 🍷 or been under medicinal treatments 💊. Spiritually wired 🔮, but even normal conversations can sometimes feel like a personal attack to them 🥲. They get attached easily and letting go is a whole drama 💔. They love bragging about their life with you to friends and family 📢🥰 like you’re the center of their fairy-tale dream 🏡, white picket fence, two kids, the whole fantasy. When life gets heavy, you’ll find them crying under the sheets or in the shower quietly 💧🚿. Super into arts, DIYs, crafts 🎨🛠️ a true homebody until you drag them out, then boom, their wild adventurous side comes alive 🌍🔥.

Part 2 of this post will be about planets in 7th house for more info on spouse appearance and traits!

Wanna go deeper into the layers of your placements? DM me for a complete astrology reading or a 5 year/8 year marriage report or synastry reading🌙💬 and check out my pinned post for pricing + details 💫💸

Let’s decode your cosmic chaos together ⭐

[girlatmirror]

baby, baby | jjk

why would jungkook need to entertain other women when you have enough personalities to keep him completely occupied?

husband! jungkook x (kinda crazy!) pregnant!reader

warnings: reader is sooo bratty but very pregnant so it’s justified, jungkook is the president of i 🫶🏼 my wife club, in my mind this is bend my rules jungkook and reader in the future, smut (minors leave immediately), degradation!!!, slapping (only once), spanking, use of the word slut, penetrative sex, bj, i didn’t proofread 💔, i had entirely too much fun writing this (i’m just a silly girl in a non silly world), idk what else, but i love this jungkook and reader

_

Your mood swings had never been worse. you, 4 months pregnant with an even worse attitude than before, were a lot to handle, but your husband was beyond resilient.

Jungkook worked extremely hard as well, owning a big law firm and juggling a needy, pregnant wife who needed his constant attention and love was almost impossible. Well, it was actually just impossible.

He gave you everything you needed; a cleaning lady, a private chef, a masseuse, a personal midwife that would visit you whenever he wouldn’t be able to go to the appointments with you.

But you didn’t want any of that, you simply needed him.

He didn’t work more than he used to, he actually reduced his work hours as much as possible when you two found out about the pregnancy, but that didn’t seem to satisfy you.

Picking fights and using his ‘absence’ against him was now your go to, but jungkook was always calm with you, simply saying ‘baby, it’s just 9 hours and you sleep through half of them anyway.’

sometimes, the problem was his calmness.

You thought back to those days where you were dating, or engaged and you would have the arguments that would lead to the filthiest, roughest sex. You missed seeing his face scrunch up, his nostrils flare up and his eyes darken.

He was always your sweet, understanding jungkook, but back then, it was easier to make him lose his cool.

Ever since you got married, he became a big softie, never raising his voice, even when you did and never showing you the fiery side that you could not admit you yearned for. You could do or say anything and he would simply listen and abide. Especially while pregnant.

You obviously loved him for it and thanked God for giving you a husband as wonderful as Jungkook, but since you got pregnant, you started craving the jungkook that would voice his anger and later, turn it into passion.

You didn’t know if it was something about your hormones changing and what-not, but you just simply knew you needed him to react to your brattiness the way he used to.

Longing for the Jungkook that would put you in your place, you (semi-unintentionally) went on a mission to bring him back.

_

You woke up and waddled your way to the spacious kitchen, where you found jungkook making a big breakfast for you two - it was his day off after all.

Once he saw you, his face broke out in a huge smile and he kissed your lips softly. “good morning, my baby, how are you?”

You simply huffed, taking a bite of the crispy bacon. your lips were pouted and your eyes slightly squinted.

Jungkook was not even confused by your behavior, he was already used to not being able to foresee your mood.

“What’s wrong, yn?”, he carefully asked, planting a kiss on your forehead, resting a hand on your growing belly. “did you sleep well?”

You just shook your head in response and turned your back on him.

“How could i sleep well??”, your dramatic response caused him to slightly chuckle under his breath. “you cheated on me!!”

That accusation made jungkook drop everything he was doing and look at you with the most questioning face he could muster; what could possibly make you believe he cheated on you?

“huh?”, was all he was able to say.

You rolled your eyes and lightly, but not playfully punched his arm. “I saw you with that girl last night! you were kissing her and whispering things into her ear..”

Jungkook’s confusion seemed to grow even stronger, trying to understand how you could be so serious and sure of something that never happened.

“Baby, i don’t know what you’re talking about”, he expressed his confusion very calmly, a soothing hand running over your arm. “you do know i was with you the whole night last night?”

“That was before!”, you let out, which confused him even more. “I went to sleep.. and i saw you there in bed with .. her and you were so in love.. how could you do that to me, jungkook??”

Actual tears formed in your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Babyy”, he cooed and wiped away some tears from your face. “that happened in your dream, it wasn’t real at all. i promise i’d never do that to you, princess.”

“But”, you sobbed silently. “it felt so so real.”

Jungkook took you into his arms and gently held and swayed you, of course not without adding a kiss on your head.

“I’m sorry, baby”, he muttered genuinely against your head. “if i ever do that again in your dreams, i’ll make sure to make it up to you, okay? i’m sorry, please forgive me.”

You nodded, against his chest, which had been dampened by your tears. “okay.. i guess i’ll forgive you.”

Not all days started off this way, of course, some days you would wake up and attack him with kisses, some others you wouldn’t wake up until after he’s gone to work (which meant waking up to a handwritten note from him) and then there were days where you would either find a reason to be mad at him or hold onto him so tightly and tell him not to go and then get whiny when he did go.

It wasn’t just your desperation to get fucked hard, it was also just the fact that you, for some reason (pregnancy), felt lonelier and more bored than ever before.

You can only go on shopping sprees and sit in cafés and gossip with your friends a certain amount of times before you get super bored.

At least before the pregnancy you were a working woman, which was not that fun either to be fair but at least you were productive.

Jungkook suppressed a chuckle and just held you for a while.

Despite you being so difficult sometimes, he enjoyed every single moment.

_

The worst thing about being pregnant was, without a doubt, the sleep. you were actually a side sleeper and for obvious reasons that wasn’t possible at the moment.

You had about an hour of actual sleep (and it wasn’t even satisfying) before you gave up trying and just decided to sit on the bed with your hands dramatically resting on your belly.

One thing ran through your mind like usain bolt; food. You tried to think of any snacks you had in the house but quickly remembered you ate them all the other day and didn’t restock.

Watching and low key envying the way your husband was peacefully sleeping with his pretty snores and his even prettier face, shirtless as he always slept. You suddenly had an idea.

“Jungkook”, you softly nudged his naked arm.

He didn’t budge.

“Jungkooook”, you repeated, dragging out his name and softly poking his nose.

A low grunt escaped his lips as he slowly started to stir.

You leaned closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “jungkook, wake up.”

Once his body recognized you were talking to him, he jolted up with wide eyes. “what?! what’s wrong?? are you okay? is it the baby?”

He was now sitting up straight, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to be able to properly see you.

You pouted, dramatically nodding. “the baby’s hungry.”

“Huh?”

“The baby wants snacks. and we don’t have snacks at home.”

Jungkook glanced at the clock and said, “baby.. it’s almost three in the morning.”

You tilted your head and adorably shrugged your shoulders, lips still pouty. “well, your child doesn’t know the concept of time yet.”

With a groan, jungkook got up and stretched.

“What kind of snacks do you want, baby?”, he asked mid stretch, before putting on a shirt.

“All of them”, was your ambiguous answer. “I want sweet, sour and salty stuff. If that cookie store on Bel Air drive is open, get me three of the marshmallow-filled ones.”

“Alright, baby”, he leaned down to kiss you. “You just text me whatever you need. I’ll be right back. I love you.”

you grinned up at him, so satisfied with his lenience and kissed him again, “i love you more.”

Simultaneously hearing the car start and your stomach rumbling, you found yourself trying to occupy your mind with something other than food, but you were so impatient.

Moments later, your phone rang.

Incoming FaceTime Call from Hubby🧎🏽‍♀️

You immediately picked up. “Hey.”

Jungkook’s still sleepy face took over your phone screen, seemingly looking down at something. “Hey, baby, just wanted to make sure these are the sour patches you like.”

He went on to show a bag of sour patches, holding it up for the camera.

You squinted, dramatic as always. “hmm… those are the right ones. but get two. the baby’s feeling greedy.”

He chuckled softly, rubbing a hand over his face. “you sure it’s the baby?”

“Are you calling me greedy?” you gasped, clutching your chest as if he’d just committed a felony.

“I would never, baby”, he chuckled again, his raspy voice doing things to you.

While he was still out, being your knight in shining armor, you decided to pull out your wedding photo album (something that never failed to make you break out in tears) and look through every single picture taken that day.

It was by far the most precious day of your life. a destination wedding in a venetian palace, just as you had requested (of course jungkook had to fulfill your wish).

Before you could even flip to the second page, your eyes started to water.

He was so handsome that day, even more than normal, which was a very hard thing to achieve and the way he looked at you.. ugh.

Pictures of him kissing your hands, your photoshoot on the palace stairs and the gondola brought back instant memories.

The calming melodies of ‘over and over’ by Bobby Vinton replayed in your mind.

you swore you could hear the ‘wows’ of the guests as you walked down the aisle in your wedding dress, a breathtaking dress designed by Elie Saab himself, and see a teary eyed Jungkook waiting for you at the altar.

you couldn’t even hear the front door open, that was how invested you were.

“Baby?”, Jungkook’s concerned voice interrupted your crying. “what happened?”

you got up from your spot and walked up to him, directly throwing yourself into his arms, which resulted in him dropping the bag of snacks on the ground.

“i missed you.”, you sniffled against his neck and kissed it.

jungkook coo’ed at you and swayed you gently.

“I was gone for 20 minutes.”, he murmured against your hair.

“but..”, your voice started to quiver a little. “that’s way too long.”

he held onto you for a while, “i know, baby, i know” and then ultimately let go to grab the snacks. “alright, what do you want to eat first?”

you both sat on the bed and he dumps all the snacks onto the bed. your mouth started watering; a whole lot of chips, cookies, sour patch kids, drinks and chocolate bars.

that man knew the way to your heart and walked it.

you instantly grabbed a cookie and bit into it, groaning, “oh my god.. this is so good right now. just what we needed.”

holding it up for jungkook to take a bite, he chuckled and took a big bite.

suddenly, you felt a kick in your stomach and excitedly waved your hands, pointing at your stomach. “oh my god, the baby is kicking. i think it’s trying to say thank you to daddy.”

ever since you got pregnant, you and jungkook became the cheesiest couple you swore you would never become but here you were.

jungkook instinctively laid his head on your stomach gently to hear the kick, before he kissed it lovingly.

“hey, baby”, he whispered against it. “mommy and daddy love you so much and we can’t wait to meet you.”

your heart warmed at the sight of jungkook being such an amazing dad; it made you want to give him everything. your eyes traveled back to the photo album that was now back in its original place.

brushing through his dark hair soothingly, you watched him with an amount of adoration that was so palpable.

the baby kicked again.

“i think the baby likes your voice.”, you noted softly. “it kicks whenever you’re around.”

jungkook couldn’t help but smile, now his head was sleepily pressed against your chest, which was obviously his favorite place in the world. “i’m its daddy, of course it love me.”

you scoffed jokingly. “well, it better love me more, i’m the one carrying it.”

that made jungkook let out a laugh. “of course, baby. you shall be the most beloved.”

you stayed in your positions for a moment in silence and then, you felt and heard Jungkook’s cute snores against your chest.

poor him, he had to wake up for work just 4 hours later.

not much later, you also felt yourself getting closer to sleeping.

_

You felt a little bad about waking Jungkook up at night when he had work in the morning.

So, you decided to make him lunch and visit him at the office, like the good wife you were.

You packed plain white rice, sautéed veggies, and some grilled chicken along with a spicy sauce (what can you say, your husband loved spicy food). It wasn’t much, but the expectations for you weren’t high right now.

Besides, the lunch was just a front to have an excuse to see your husband. You needed to look good, so while it took you less than half an hour to prepare the food, it took you an hour to pick out an outfit and do your makeup.

You opted for a flowy pink sundress that showcased your little baby bump you had grown to adore. You were pregnant, not exempt from looking gorgeous.

You checked the stove, called the driver, made sure your keys were in your bag, and finally, he arrived.

“Where to, Mrs. Jeon?” your driver, Mr. Petrov, greeted you with his usual kindness.

He had been driving you everywhere since your 21st birthday. You admitted to Jungkook a couple months before that you hated driving, so he got you a personal driver for your birthday. In a way, you considered him family — an uncle or something like that.

After all, he had witnessed your relationship through almost all its stages: from being a couple, to becoming engaged, then married, and finally, soon-to-be parents.

“To my husband,” you replied eagerly. “I want to bring him lunch.”

The drive went by as it always did: Mr. Petrov telling you stories about his teenage daughters that you always loved hearing, asking about Jungkook’s wellbeing (which you found adorable), and, of course, giving you parenting advice.

Once you arrived at your destination, Mr. Petrov made sure to help you out of the car (the privilege and disadvantage of being pregnant; people always thought you were incapable of doing anything by yourself) and watched you enter the building to make sure you got in safely before driving away.

The building was as tall as ever. The guard immediately recognized you and personally escorted you to the elevator.

Your walk was confident (at least you thought so). Despite your pregnant self, you looked like you owned the place — which, you kind of did since it was your husband’s company.

The receptionists and all his employees already knew you; you liked to think you had built a good relationship with them. As the boss’s wife, you took that responsibility seriously.

The elevator doors opened to the executive floor and you waddled out toward Jungkook’s assistant.

“Mrs. Jeon, how good to see you!” she greeted you eagerly, with her usual nervousness. “Mr. Jeon is in a meeting right now. He should be done very soon.”

You thanked her and made your way to the meeting room. Through the glass windows, you could see your husband in action, ever the perfect businessman.

He looked so effortlessly commanding and authoritative, but there was a hint of tiredness in his eyes you couldn’t overlook.

Your eyes met his and suddenly, his entire posture changed; the tension in his shoulders softened and a small smile formed on his handsome face.

You waved, and for about four minutes, you waited — which in pregnancy minutes felt like an hour.

He rushed to you once he dismissed all the meeting participants, giving you a tight hug, careful not to press on your belly.

“Hey, beautiful,” he uttered, placing a kiss on your forehead. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see my handsome husband and I brought him lunch,” you smiled. “You look so tired. I feel bad for waking you up so late.”

Jungkook shook his head gently, adoring you with his gaze. “Don’t feel bad,” he murmured. “Let’s go to my office. I’m starving; I want to eat that food you made.”

He sat down at his desk and you positioned yourself on his lap immediately, not needing an invitation, pulling the lunch out of your Goyard bag.

“Eat,” you practically demanded, handing him the spoon.

Jungkook, who had been hungry for a while, immediately dug in, taking big spoonfuls of the food. He offered you some, but you informed him you already ate at home.

“This is so good,” he mumbled through a mouthful, scrunching up his nose like he always did when something tasted especially delicious.

Of course, you loved seeing him like that — and even more when you were the reason.

He quickly finished his food and went back to giving you all of his attention, his hands drawing soothing circles on your back.

“Do you love me?” you asked out of nowhere.

“Yes,” Jungkook didn’t even hesitate to answer.

Nor was he weirded out or surprised by your randomness.

“Would you still love me if I shaved my head?”

Jungkook chuckled, his hands now gripping your waist. “Yes, you’d still be the prettiest woman in the world.”

Your heart smiled. You lazily traced his sharp jawline.

“What if I were a worm?” you asked; it was a question you had asked a million times before.

“Ugh, that question,” he feigned annoyance. “How would I even know it’s you? Hypothetically, if I saw a worm, how would I know?”

Hand on your chest, you pretended to be offended, much to Jungkook’s amusement. “If your wife, I, were to suddenly vanish from your life, you’re telling me you wouldn’t look for me everywhere and in everything?”

He shook his head again.

“Of course I would!” he explained, the smile never leaving his lips. “I just wouldn’t think you’d turn into a worm… more like a fox or a lynx.”

You giggled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

_

“I need everything to be perfect!”

The workers didn’t know whether to admire your dedication or be scared of you; either way, they appreciated the hefty sum and the hospitality they were given.

The decorations for today were carefully chosen by you (Jungkook was allowed input too, but not too much). You opted for a classy lavender theme and wore a white maternity dress that perfectly sat on your body.

Today was an especially special day: the gender reveal party for the demon living inside you.

Your sister was picking up the cake that you insisted had to be a white chocolate cake with cream pistachio frosting.

Jungkook was in charge of the guests; he made sure they all arrived safely and were taken care of.

There were, to the surprise of absolutely no one, a lot of guests: besides your and Jungkook’s close and extended family, there were your numerous friends, a few of his workers, neighbors, a couple of women from your prenatal Pilates class, and of course, Mr. Petrov and his family.

You already knew his two daughters; they were self-proclaimed fans of yours. “I want to be just like you when I’m older, Mrs. Jeon.”

“Hi, sweeties.” As soon as you saw them, you hugged them. “How are you guys? I missed you.”

They were practically squealing at the sight of your pregnant stomach, exclaiming how “Wow, your stomach grew so much!” which was received with laughter.

“Girls, has no one taught you basic manners?” Mr. Petrov scolded his daughters semi-jokingly in his thick accent. “Seriously, who raised you?”

The girls didn’t even bother to look at their dad, simply too in awe of how beautiful and pregnant you were.

“That kid is gonna be so gorgeous!” Natasha spoke with excitement. “I mean, with your genes and then Mr. Jeon’s… oh my god.”

“Oh, thank you, my love,” you patted her cheek lovingly.

More guests kept arriving, which left Jungkook, who was very used to being in charge, looking like the perfect host he was.

“Seriously, I hope it’s a boy,” Daria admitted, an eager look on her face. “So we can raise him to be a gentleman.”

That statement quickly turned into an argument between the two sisters; Natasha wanted a girl, and Daria wanted a boy.

You, wanting to give them a bit of space in their sisterly fighting, made sure to greet all the other guests after offering Mr. Petrov a drink.

Jungkook had a moment to spare, using it to make sure you were doing okay. He came over to you, placing a hand on your back. “How’s my princess doing?”

You instinctively put a hand on your stomach (something you did quite often these days) and gently smiled at him. “I’m doing well, just waiting for my sister to come through with the cake…”

“Is the photographer already here?” you suddenly started panicking, realizing you momentarily forgot about somebody.

Jungkook tapped you on the shoulder reassuringly. “Relax, he’s right there by the bar.”

That didn’t reassure you though; on the contrary. “Why is he drinking?! That could mess up all the pictures. Oh my god… Jungkook, go and tell him to stop drinking!”

You pushed him toward the bar and immediately left, leaving him with no other choice but to actually go up to the photographer and prevent him from drinking.

Right then, your sister finally arrived with a huge cake box in her hand, puffing from the sheer weight of it. “…I’m here, oof… damn!”

Just as you wanted to go over and help her, your dad took it from her hand and placed it onto the table.

The cake arrived, the buffet looked good, the music was great, the kids were having fun on the bouncy castle, the adults were happy about the free drinks and food, and there was nothing to complain about…

Jungkook was hoping you would not find anything to complain about.

“I’m so excited,” your fingers almost trembling as you wrapped them around Jungkook’s big arms. “Do I even want to know? Like… what if we waited until I give birth to know… so many moms do that, maybe I should too.”

Jungkook couldn’t believe his ears; first, you turned the entire world upside down to make this party as epic as you could, and now, you were practically objecting to it.

“Baby,” he spoke ever so gently. “You’ve been wanting this for a long time now. You’re just nervous, don’t worry. We’ll know the gender and nothing bad will happen regardless.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Okay.”

A few hours of dancing, gift opening, and games passed, and now you were all ready to witness the sole reason for this party.

When you were planning the gender reveal party, you wanted something classic and simple for the reveal.

The good old cutting into the cake to find out the gender. Nothing more, nothing less.

So, there you both were, standing in front of the podium where the cake sat in all its glory. Your shorter body was in front of Jungkook, and he was positioned right behind you, his hand on yours, both holding the knife.

Your heart pounded; you didn’t even know why. This wasn’t even an anxiety-inducing situation. Your hormones were messing you up.

All the guests were watching curiously and with full attention as you and Jungkook cut a piece of cake.

The frosting was pink. Cheers broke out.

“It’s a girl!” Jungkook announced with joy in his voice, hugging you so tightly.

You, of course, cried tears of happiness. “I can’t believe we’re having a little baby girl…”

He kissed you on the lips passionately, both of you completely forgetting the camera and the guests.

“She’s gonna be a handful,” he joked, holding your chin and caressing your tear-stained cheeks. Finally, you laughed.

He was probably right.

“Oh, absolutely,” you agreed with him. “But you’re gonna spoil her, so it’s gonna be all on you.”

Jungkook couldn’t deny it, so he just tilted his head. “What can I say? It’s my thing.”

_

it was dinner time, your favorite time of the day. on most days, dinner is the only meal you really got to sit with Jungkook and enjoy the food, unlike the hurried breakfasts and the lunch that you either eat together during his ‘break’ or just completely separately.

that’s why you got so annoyed whenever something distracted him from dinner; this was supposed to be your time together.

you crossed your arms, nostrils flaring while he was on the phone with Selene, a new employee of his that seemed to come to him whenever she was overwhelmed or unfamiliar with something at work.

you completely understood that this was a new job for her but you didn’t particularly like that she felt the need to call your husband outside of work; if she needed help, she could just ask any other employee.

it was excessive.

“Yes, i’ll tell Jason to bring a copy too”, jungkook spoke into the phone, his tone professional. “don’t worry about the presentation, the material you showed me today was good.”

fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you very passive aggressively poured juice into your glass and drank it.

“finally.”, you said once they hung up.

jungkook’s eyes narrowed a little but he didn’t say anything, he just scooped some more rice onto his plate.

“she just needed some help, baby.”, he explained after he noticed your sour expression wasn’t going anywhere.

“pf. why are you even talking to her outside of work? what’s so important that can’t wait until literally tomorrow morning?!”, you spewed, louder than intended. “and you just pick up, ugh. you should’ve ignored her but nooo, of course you had to pick up.. almost like that phone call is more important than having dinner with your wife.”

“yn.. that was a 2 minute conversation.”, he started getting more irritated by the second. “what are you even implying here? do you think i’m cheating on you cause i answered my employee’s phone call?”

“i don’t know, maybe you are.”

you were so obviously trying to push his buttons and see how far you can go; you wondered if he noticed or if he didn’t.

he knew you knew he would never ever cheat, perhaps that’s why the accusation irritated him even more.

“yn, don’t piss me off. you know damn well i would never cheat.”, he spoke with fire in his voice. “and why would i? you have enough personalities to keep me completely fucking occupied.”

it was true that you were a woman of multitudes and normally, you would have laughed at that statement but you could not give him the satisfaction.

you knew you were getting closer to your goal; he already looked like his veins were about to pop.

it wasn’t like he didn’t know how you were; he had to endure you every single day of his life, but he was bound to break eventually.

suppressing a smile, you simply huffed and stated, “that’s honestly hard to believe.”

jungkook’s nostrils flared and he looked down at you with an expression you hadn’t seen in months.

you were looking up at him with big eyes, your hand on your hips as you seized his reaction.

“yn..”, he fought the urge to raise his voice but ultimately lost. “i’m so serious right now, do not piss me off. i’ve been so damn patient with you.. i forgot that’s not the fucking way to deal with you..”

his hands were now gripping your waist tightly; if it hadn’t felt so damn good, it would probably hurt.

“what is the way to deal with me then?”, your voice was soft, almost angelic as you held eye contact with his fiery eyes.

“you know.”, he lowly spoke against your lips.

“no”, pushing him further and further, you held onto his muscular arm. “show me.”

that was when he crashed his lips into yours with a sense of desperation mirroring your own, his hands roaming your body like he memorized it. he gripped your ass hard, getting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

your baby bump wasn’t making any type of difficulty for either of you, thank God.

he carried you all the way to the couch and practically (yet very carefully) threw you onto it. he quickly took off your night gown and threw it aside, before taking off his own shirt.

“is that what you want?”, jungkook’s voice was now merely a growl as he started undoing his pants. “to get fucked hard? huh?”

his pants were off, leaving him in only his boxer shorts; the sight delicious.

the wetness in your pussy was almost unbearable at that point, even pressing your legs together didn’t help.

you nodded, reaching for his boxers and kneading his dick almost desperately, before completely taking them off, revealing his hard dick.

as horny and perverted as that sounded, there was almost nothing in the entire world you loved as much as seeing Jungkook like that. So in control, yet so needy for you.

there was already precum on the tip of it, you licked it off.

jungkook reacted with a groaned ‘fuck’.

you wrapped your hands around his thick shaft and massaged it up and down, then gently wrapped your full lips around it, sucking it while holding eye contact. his moans continued.

despite you barely being able to take all of him at the same time, he thrust his dick further and further into your mouth, making it difficult to breathe.

“you can take it, baby.”, he breathed, hands gripping your hair. “you run your mouth all day long, this shouldn’t be so hard for you.”

you let out a groan, pressing your legs tighter together.

Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you enjoyed the feeling of his dick in your mouth. you moaned around it, big, innocent eyes meeting his.

he rammed his dick into your mouth in steady, aggressive motions, making you choke on it, causing your saliva to coat his dick.

the moans that he released were enough to make your head dizzy; you were nothing but mush.

your face was now a teary mess.

before he could cum, jungkook pulled back suddenly, his dick sliding out of your mouth and slapping gently against his lower abdomen. he grabbed your jaw and said, “i’m not gonna cum in your mouth.”

you knew what he was doing, he was being an asshole. he was aware of how much you loved swallowing his cum or even having his cum all over your face and he denied you of it. your brows furrowed just slightly.

You whimpered, the ache between your thighs unbearable. “Then where?”

he didn’t verbally respond, simply putting his big hands on your thighs and separating your legs roughly, making you gasp. he pushed two fingers inside your wet mess of a pussy without warning and started curling them teasingly.

“fuck”, he let out. “that pussy’s so fucking wet.. shit, you fucking love making me mad.”

you started desperately grinding against his fingers but he removed them before you could truly enjoy it, grabbing your jaw again and approaches your face so you’re facing each other directly, breathing against your lips. “open your mouth.”

you obeyed. then, he spit in your mouth.

“swallow it.”, he demanded.

you swallowed.

“good girl.”

“jungkook..”, you whimpered, overwhelmed by your own arousal, needy for any kind of friction.

jungkook just pressed his index finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. “you don’t get to talk right now.”

that was what you were waiting for for a while; the sheer dominance and degradation that jungkook seemed to have shyed away from lately. you were craving the side of him that completely shut you down and put you in your place.

he pumped his dick before slightly bending his legs to teasingly slowly slap his dick on your wet pussy. your breath hitched and jungkook smirked at your state.

“i don’t think you deserve to get fucked.”, he declared after almost slipping his dick in, enjoying the power he had over you entirely too much. “good wives get dicked down.. the ones that obey their husbands.. and don’t drive them insane.. not spoiled brats like you who don’t know when to shut up.”

with every breath, he slipped his tip in and out, causing you to arch your hips up in desperation.

“please”, you begged with almost tears in your eyes. “i’m gonna be good, i’m gonna be so good, jungkook.”

jungkook laughed, almost evilly, and breathed through his teeth. “i don’t believe that.”

you reached for him and clung both your arms around the broad shoulders you were unhealthily obsessed with and hid your face in his chest.

you sniffled with teary eyes. “but i promise.. please.. please just put it in.”

with that he entered you, completely too slow for your liking. your head curled back at the pleasure.

he started thrusting very slowly, teasingly so, his breath getting heavier against your ear, before he began fastening the pressure.

the thrusts were so deep, he made sure to hit the spot right. his grip was almost unbearably strong, making your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.

his lips moved to your full breasts, taking your hard nipples in his mouth and sucking on them.

“still so fucking tight.”, he groaned, before crashing his lips against yours.

your whiny moans met his as he suddenly picked you up, his dick never slipping out.

before you could realize, your naked back hit a cold wall, making you gasp.

the angle made it easier for jungkook to completely plow into you mercilessly.

you were so lost in the moment, almost felt like you were in heat. you didn’t think, you couldn’t.

the sounds of slapping skin and wet arousal spread across the room.

jungkook slammed his hips against yours, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark with hunger. “don’t forget your place, yn. you exist to get fucked by your husband and do as he says, not disobey him.”

you knew this was all just sex talk, this wasn’t truly what he believed but God.. you wouldn’t be mad if it were. you instinctively clenched around him, replying with soft cries.

“shit.. look at you”, the strokes became harder with every second. “even pregnancy can’t stop you from being a dick crazy slut, huh?”

his pace was relentless, yet steady. he held onto your hips, controlling your movements, ensuring you take every single inch of him.

When all you could manage were broken, whiny moans, he seized your jaw in a tight grip and delivered a sharp slap across your cheek.

You gasped, the sting spreading warmly across your skin and you both knew you loved it.

“Answer me when I speak to you, fucking slut,” he growled, his fingers digging harder into your jaw.

“yes, jungkook.. please don’t stop.”, you whimpered with teary eyes. “i love that dick so much, ah.. i’m just.. a fucking whore for you.”

a wicked grin tugged at his lips as his thrusts became gradually slower, yet deeper.

“that’s right,” he growled, “that’s what you were made for, to get fucked and bred. the only thing you’re good for.”

you clutched his neck even tighter, hiding your fucked out face in his shoulders, moans spilling out shamelessly.

you could practically feel your pussy juice dripping on his dick, your body tightening against his as you felt your climax nearing.

“kookie..,” you whimpered, voice trembling, “please… don’t stop. I need you. I’m so close.”

he only nodded as he continued with the same force, driving you closer to the edge with every brutal thrust. a mixture of moans and sobs flooding the room.

your entire body tensed with the last couple of thrusts and waves of uncontrollable pleasure rushed through you, your pussy squeezing with urgency and then, your vision blurred, leaving you dizzy and breathless.

chest heaving heavily, “ah, ah, ah” and the intensity built up until you came undone blissfully, collapsing into a trembling mess.

a couple of seconds later, jungkook’s hips stuttered, signaling his own orgasm. his big hands left bruises on your hips, a rough growl leaving his lips, “fuck, fuck, fuck”. he fucked the last thrusts into you with force, his breath heavy. with a guttural groan, he spilled his hot, thick cum deep inside of you. he stayed buried inside longer, making sure every drop of cum entered your pussy.

your heartbeat was faster than ever, you felt (good) pain all over your body. before you could climb jungkook like a koala bear and demand him to carry you to your bedroom, he turned your still aching body around, your body facing the wall.

then, he slammed his heavy hand down on your ass.

“ouch!!”

“stop whining, you asked for this.”, he hissed, delivering another spank to your ass. “i told you to fucking behave.”

your whimpers were almost pathetic. you could never admit to him that you enjoyed the pain, but something told you he already knew. your pussy was still soaked, his fingers lightly brushing against it from the back while his palm met your generous backside.

“you’re so fucked out, you can’t even speak”, he whispered, now kneading your ass. “that’s how i fucking like you.. if i could fuck another baby in you right now, i would.”

you tried to suppress your moans, but failed.

His fingers grazed your slick folds, sending another shiver to your core, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release.

He removed his hands completely and you turned around, too scared and turned on to look him directly in the face.

He caught your gaze and softened instantly, the fire in his eyes melting into something quieter, more tender.

“Come here,” Jungkook murmured, pulling you into his chest with surprising gentleness for a man who’d just wrecked you.

You melted against him, your breathing still uneven as his arms wrapped securely around your swollen belly and your trembling body.

the earlier degradation was replaced by his usual warmth.

You stayed like that for a long moment, your fingers tracing lazy circles over his back, both of you finally still.

Slowly, he carried you to the bed, careful and deliberate as if you were the most fragile thing in existence.

after cleaning up, the both of you settled under the soft blankets, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your eyelids growing heavy.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he whispered, lips brushing against your forehead.

“Goodnight, Kookie,” you breathed, already slipping toward sleep.

_

the next morning, jungkook woke up way too late. you were already awake; he couldn’t feel you when he sleepily slid his hand across your shared bed.

scenes of the night before played in his mind, causing a smile to spread on his handsome face.

looking at the clock, he couldn’t believe you wore him out so well that he woke up about three hours later than he usually did. he didn’t even care that he missed work; he was the ceo after all.

damn, that pussy truly got power.

after freshening up in the adjacent bathroom, he started hearing voices from downstairs; certainly more than just yours.

making his way downstairs, he found you in the dining room, surrounded by both of your mothers, animatedly talking about some new recipe you wanted to try.

his heart warmed at the sight. they must have dropped by unannounced or you might have forgotten to tell him they were visiting.

he immediately walked up to the three of you, greeting his mother and mother-in-law.

“good morning, ladies!”, he greeted, giving each one a kiss on the cheek.

and there you were, now quiet and admiring the interaction, looking beautiful in your yoga pants and that fitted shirt that did nothing to conceal your baby bump.

“and good morning to my beautiful wife”, he was practically beaming at you, approaching you with open arms. “and my future princess.”

he first kissed your lips and then, he squatted and lovingly put his hands on your bump.

“good morning, my handsome husband.”, you smiled up at him, your cheeks heating up from the flashbacks of last night. “you’re finally awake!”

both of your mothers knew what type of couple you were, even before pregnancy. they admired you two deeply.

“aren’t you supposed to be at work, jungkook?”, his mother’s playful voice broke the moment.

“I slept in”, his head was now resting on your shoulders from behind, his hands holding onto your waist. “this one kept me up all night.”

his suggestive tone made your moms laugh; they understood exactly what he meant. for you, It was embarrassing because, surprisingly, you're not as shameless as he was.

it wasn’t that big of a deal though, they could tell a couple of hours ago when you couldn’t stand properly from all the pain your body was still in.

jungkook immediately started eating breakfast like the food was going to run away, as per usual.

after a heated 15 minute discussion over the baby’s name, you decided to change the topic without hurting your moms’ feelings and just directly tell them you didn’t like any of the names they suggested.

“you two go sit on the couch, i’ll be right back with the tea and cakes”, you told them, not wanting them to lift a finger, despite their constant need to stand on their feet.

“i’ll help you”, jungkook insisted and followed you to the spacious kitchen. “when the hell did you have time to make cake?”

he asked you in such a confused tone, it almost made you laugh. did he forget you were at home basically the entire day?

“tsk.. acting like i don’t have all the time in the world”, you replied, cutting into the chocolate cake you knew jungkook’s mom would love. “taste this.”

without hesitation, he took a big bite.

“hmmm”, he took another bite and then another. “so good.”

you snatched the fork away from him with feigned offense. “leave some for the others.. greedy.”

he bursted into laughter at your offended face and pinched your cheeks. “i’m sorry.”

you looked at him and just breathed in the happiness; he was your husband, yours.

as long as he was yours, you didn’t care about anything else because there was nothing you wanted except for him to be with you.

you were so grateful for his existence, for his love, that life brought you together.. and it was always the most simple moments that made you appreciate him even more.

you put your head on his shoulders.

“Marry me.”, you whispered.

He blinked. “We’re already married.”

“Well, I wanna marry you again, Jungkook.”, desperation was evident in your voice. “Please.”

and then, he got on his knees, taking your hand in his, a goofy smile on his face. “yn jeon, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife again?”

you teared up, getting on your knees with much effort and engulfed him in a hug, gripping his arms like you’re never letting go of him.

“yes, yes, yes. a million times, yes.”

_

i love writing unserious stuff honestly 😭 hope you enjoy this!!! 😘💗💗

[lynbels]

25 jungwon pls pls pls

looks deceive - yjw (m)

#25: The quiet nerd turns out to be anything but shy, using your body like it’s his.

pairing: jungwon x reader - prompt req list

synopsis: You spent months teasing Jungwon for being the quiet nerd in class—until one night he finally snapped, and you learned exactly how wrong you were about him. ✉️ 3782wc

‼️tw: slight bullying, dubcon vibes, dominance, manhandling, degradation (light), oral (m receiving), rough sex, creampie, praise, possessiveness, spanking, slight hair pulling, unprotected sex (wrap ur willies guys)

💌: no because I totally imagine this happening good jungwon by day evil jungwon by night 😈

You weren’t a mean girl, not really. Just…a little playful. Maybe a little too playful when it came to the nerdy boy who sat in the back of your Chemistry class.

Yang Jungwon.

Blonde hair always perfectly parted, button-down shirts always ironed stiff, and those stupid little glasses perched on the bridge of his nose—he was practically begging for it. He didn’t even talk back when you and your friends joked about him. He just sat there, quietly scribbling formulas with that pretty hand of his, pretending not to hear the way you laughed.

“You think he’s a robot or something?” your friend Hana giggled one afternoon, chin propped on her hand as she watched Jungwon flip through his notes. “Bet he’s never even held a girl’s hand.”

You snickered behind your palm. “Held? I bet he’d pass out if a girl even looked at him for too long.”

It wasn’t personal. It was harmless, you told yourself. Jungwon was just…so easy to tease. Always so quiet, so polite, so desperately nerdy. He wore khaki pants for god’s sake. Khakis. In high school.

Sometimes you’d catch him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking—soft, wide-eyed stares, like he couldn’t believe you were real. It only made it funnier. You’d smile sweetly at him on purpose, wave too enthusiastically, lean a little too close when asking him a question during group projects, just to watch his face flush scarlet and his glasses fog up.

The poor boy was so easy to break.

And you weren’t the only one who noticed. Your whole group kind of adopted it as a game at this point: how fast could you fluster Jungwon? How pink could you get his cheeks? How many stuttered responses could you collect like trophies?

“He’s like…a pet,” your other friend Minji whispered one time after a pop quiz. You had just tapped Jungwon’s shoulder and thanked him (loudly) for “helping you study”—which he hadn’t—and the boy had practically short-circuited on the spot. “Like a little lost puppy.”

You’d laughed then, flipping your hair over your shoulder, feeling every bit the queen bee you were supposed to be. Jungwon was safe. Harmless. He wasn’t like the cocky jocks or the bad boys you flirted with sometimes—he was soft, easy to control, easy to tease.

Or at least…that’s what you thought.

Until one afternoon, everything changed.

You were sitting at your desk, lazily twirling a pen between your fingers, when you felt a shadow fall across your table. You looked up, blinking.

It was Jungwon.

He stood stiffly in front of you, clutching a neatly organized folder to his chest like a shield. His blonde hair was slightly messy today, a few strands falling across his forehead. His glasses slipped down his nose a little, and he pushed them up nervously with one finger.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Lost, Jungwon?”

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something—but then stopped, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow. His hands fidgeted against the folder, knuckles white from how tightly he gripped it. You could see the tips of his ears turning red.

Cute.

“I, uh…” He coughed lightly, adjusting his glasses again. “I…thought you might need help. For the chemistry assignment. Since…you asked…before.”

You blinked.

You hadn’t actually asked him for help—you’d teased him about it, sure, but it was all in good fun. You were popular, and smart enough to get by without tutoring from the class nerd. But now, standing there in front of you, Jungwon looked so serious. So determined, despite how nervous he clearly was.

You could feel Minji and Hana watching from across the room, barely containing their laughter. You gave them a quick glance—watch this—before turning back to Jungwon with your most dazzling smile.

“That’s sweet, Jungwon,” you said, voice dripping honey. “You’re worried about me?”

He flushed deeper, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I just…you seemed like you might…um…need help.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hold back a laugh. God, he was so easy.

Leaning forward on your elbows, you rested your chin in your hand and looked up at him through your lashes. “Are you offering to be my private tutor?”

His lips parted slightly, like the words got stuck in his throat. His glasses fogged a little again. “I—uh—I guess. If you want.”You smiled wider, loving the way his voice shook.

“Aw,” you cooed mockingly, loud enough for your friends to hear. “You’re so sweet, Jungwon. Are you always this nice to girls who bully you?”

Behind you, Hana snickered into her hand.

For a moment, Jungwon didn’t say anything. He just stood there, folder clutched tight to his chest, face burning. His eyes flickered to your mouth for a second—so quick you almost missed it—and then dropped to the floor again.

You tilted your head, smirking. So predictable.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” you added, voice low enough that only he could hear it. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll let you buy me coffee after tutoring too.”

He said nothing. Just nodded stiffly, turned on his heel, and practically fled to the other side of the room.

You and your friends broke into giggles immediately.

“Poor thing’s gonna have a heart attack,” Minji whispered, wiping a tear from her eye. “Y/N, you’re evil.”

You smiled lazily, twirling your pen again. It was just harmless fun. Jungwon would never do anything about it. He was too shy, too sweet.

He’d stay quiet. Like he always did.

…Right?

You didn’t think about it much when you got the text later that day.

[unknown number]: you forgot your textbook. rm 3b.

[unknown number]: i can bring it if u want.

You stared at the messages, confused for a second—until you realized it had to be Jungwon. Of course it was. Who else would be that polite about a stupid forgotten book?

You texted back a half-hearted ok, already smirking to yourself. God, he’s desperate, you thought. He was really going out of his way for you now. It was almost pathetic.

You made your way to Room 3B after the last bell, the hallway practically deserted. Most people had already left for the day, leaving only the low hum of distant footsteps and the occasional squeak of sneakers on tile.

When you pushed open the door, the room was dim, the late afternoon sun spilling in long, golden streaks across the floor.

And there he was.

Jungwon stood by your desk, your chemistry textbook in hand, head bowed slightly. His blonde hair caught the light, making it look almost soft around the edges. He wasn’t wearing his blazer anymore—just the white button-up, the sleeves pushed up a little—and it made him look…different. More casual. More real.

You stepped inside lazily, the door clicking shut behind you.

“Wow,” you teased lightly, crossing your arms. “You really take your job as my tutor seriously, huh?”

He didn’t laugh.

Didn’t even smile.

He just looked up at you—and for the first time, you noticed something different in his eyes. Something that made your skin prickle a little.

He wasn’t nervous.

Not anymore.

“You forgot this,” he said simply, voice low and even.

You walked closer, letting your bag slide off your shoulder onto a chair. “Thanks, Professor Jungwon,” you joked, reaching for the book.

But instead of handing it to you, he held onto it—just out of reach.

You frowned. “What are you doing?”

For a second, he just looked at you, head tilted slightly like he was studying something.

Then he smiled.

Not the shy, awkward smile you were used to.

No, this one was slower. Lazier. A smile that knew things. Dangerous things.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he said, voice still light but edged with something sharper underneath. “Messing with me. Laughing at me with your little friends.”

You blinked, heart skipping once, confused. This wasn’t…this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“I mean…” you said slowly, trying to summon that same teasing tone. “Maybe a little?”

Jungwon stepped closer.

You instinctively backed up—only to feel the desk press against the backs of your thighs.

You opened your mouth to say something else—to crack another joke, maybe, to turn the moment back into something safe—but before you could, he set the textbook down carefully on the desk beside you.

And caged you in with both hands, palms flat against the wood.

You stared up at him, breath caught.

His eyes, usually so soft, were burning now. Sharp and focused, like he was seeing right through you. His body was so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, suffocating, dizzying.

“You think you can just say whatever you want to me,” he said softly, so close you could feel his breath fan across your lips. “Laugh at me. Flirt with me. Make me look like a fool.”

You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body standing on end.

“I—It was just a joke,” you said quickly, but your voice wavered.

Another slow, dangerous smile.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “Well, here’s the thing, Y/N.”

He leaned down, mouth brushing your ear.

“I’m done being the joke.”

You froze, your whole body tensing, but Jungwon didn’t give you any time to think.

One hand slid from the desk to your waist, fingers digging in just hard enough to make you gasp. He pressed his body closer, chest against yours, so you could feel just how much bigger and stronger he really was.

“You’re so loud usually,” he whispered, voice smooth and dark against your ear. “Where’s all that attitude now, huh?”

You squirmed, but it only made him grip you tighter, pinning your hips against the desk.

“You thought you were in control,” he murmured, dragging the tip of his nose down the side of your throat, inhaling like he could smell your fear. “Laughing with your friends. Acting like you were better than me.”

You whimpered—quiet and unintentional—and he chuckled low in his chest.

“Not so funny now, is it?”

Slowly, torturously slow, he trailed his hand up your side, brushing under the hem of your shirt, fingertips feather-light against your bare skin. Your breath hitched, and he smiled against your neck.

“You like this,” he said quietly, almost like he was marveling at the realization. “You like when I’m mean to you.”

You shook your head automatically, but Jungwon just laughed again, dark and soft.

“Liar.”

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes were molten now, dark and hungry, and you shivered under the weight of his stare.

“I should make you beg,” he whispered, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Make you apologize for being such a little brat.”

Your lips parted, desperate to say something—anything—but no words came out.

“You gonna be good for me now?” he asked, almost gently, dragging his thumb slowly across your bottom lip. “Or do I have to teach you a lesson?

You whimpered again, nodding weakly.

His smile widened, all sharp teeth and dangerous promise.

“Good girl.”

Without warning, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you up onto the desk, spreading your legs with his knees. The sudden movement made you squeak, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance, but he didn’t let you go—he loomed over you, hands gripping your waist possessively, like he owned you.

“Show me,” Jungwon said, voice so soft it barely made a sound. “Get on your knees.”

You blinked up at him, heart racing, and whispered back without thinking, “W-What?”

He just stared down at you, unblinking, fingers tightening at your waist like a warning.

“On your knees,” he repeated, firmer now, and when you hesitated for half a second longer, he grabbed your chin and guided you down slowly, almost gentle, until your knees hit the floor with a quiet thud against the carpet.

“Jungwon…” you whispered again, voice small, but he didn’t budge.

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Pretty,” he murmured. “So pretty when you’re quiet.”

You bit your lip, cheeks burning, and breathed out shakily, “I-I don’t know what you want me to do…”

A small, dangerous smile played on his lips. “You’ll figure it out.”

With slow, deliberate movements, he unbuckled his belt, the soft clink making your stomach twist in anticipation. You couldn’t look away—couldn’t even think—your mouth already watering slightly as he tugged his jeans down just enough, freeing his cock, hard and thick and leaking at the tip.

You whimpered, staring, and your thighs instinctively pressed together.

“You want it, don’t you?” he whispered, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

You nodded frantically, voice barely a breath. “Y-Yeah… I want it.”

“Then open up,” he ordered, and his voice was so calm it made your whole body shudder.

You parted your lips obediently, heart thundering, and he slid the tip against your tongue, teasing you slowly, making you feel every inch.

“Good girl,” he praised in a low growl. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.”

You whimpered again, looking up at him through your lashes, desperate to make him proud, desperate for him to keep saying those things to you.

“You’re so good, Jungwon,” you whispered around him, voice muffled and needy.

A dark flush colored his cheeks at your praise, but he didn’t let up, sliding deeper with slow, shallow thrusts, one hand threading into your hair to hold you there.

“That’s it,” he murmured, hips rocking slowly. “Such a good little mouth… made for me.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes from the stretch, but you forced yourself to stay still, to let him use you like he wanted. You wanted it. You wanted him.

“You look so good like this,” he breathed. “Bet you never thought you’d end up on your knees for me, huh?”

You whined around him, the humiliation and heat rushing through your body too much to handle.

“Didn’t know you’d be so mean,” you managed to mumble out when he pulled back a little, your voice wrecked and breathless.

He chuckled lowly, thumb brushing away a tear that slid down your cheek.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of, baby,” he whispered.

You nodded, so desperate, so wrecked already. “Please…” you whimpered. “Please, Jungwon… I want you…”

His jaw flexed, his control visibly snapping.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hips jerking forward as he pushed deeper into your mouth, making you choke slightly.

You pulled back with a gasp, panting, and he immediately stroked your hair gently, calming you.

“Shh. You’re doing so good, pretty girl,” he praised. “You’re perfect.”

You looked up at him, tears in your lashes, spit glistening on your lips.

“I want to be good for you,” you said, voice wobbling.

“You already are,” he whispered, dragging his cock slowly across your tongue again.

You shivered, feeling your whole body light up at his words.

He tightened his grip in your hair, sliding himself back into your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts, using you like he had every right to.

And you let him. Whimpering, obeying, looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

Because he owned you now. And you didn’t want it any other way.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Jungwon yanked you up from the floor, strong hands gripping your waist and shoving you back against the couch. His body pressed flush against yours, caging you in.

“You’re not done,” he muttered, voice low and dark in your ear. “I’m not done.”

You whimpered, nodding without even thinking, your thighs squeezing together at the way he looked at you — like he was starving and you were the only thing he could eat.

He grabbed your chin roughly, tilting your head up so you couldn’t look away from him. His eyes, usually so soft and sunny, were blown wide and black with hunger.

“Look at you,” he whispered, breath hot against your cheek. “Already fucked out and I haven’t even gotten started.”

You tried to say something—tried to beg—but he didn’t give you the chance. In one swift movement, he manhandled you onto the couch, forcing you onto your back, and tugged your panties down your legs without ceremony.

“Spread those legs for me, pretty,” he murmured, voice steady but ragged with want.

You did, shakily, heart pounding so hard you could barely breathe.

He tugged his jeans down just enough, cock hard and leaking, and lined himself up without warning. You felt the blunt, thick head of him pressing against your entrance, and your breath caught.

“You ready?” he rasped.

You nodded desperately, nails digging into the cushions.

“Use your words,” he ordered, tapping the inside of your thigh sharply.

“Please,” you gasped out. “Please, Jungwon, I want it—need it—”

That was all he needed.

He slammed into you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt, and you screamed — high-pitched and choked, the stretch overwhelming. Your whole body arched off the couch at the sudden, merciless intrusion.

“Fuck, so tight,” he hissed through gritted teeth, holding himself still for a second, letting you feel every inch of him. “Feels too good. Gonna fuck you so stupid, baby.”

You sobbed, legs trembling around his hips, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled out halfway and slammed back in hard enough to make the couch creak beneath you. Again. Again. Hard and deep and punishing, every thrust knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“You wanted to tease me?” he grunted, voice still soft and deadly in your ear. “Wanted to be a brat in front of your little friends?”

You nodded frantically, whimpering, barely coherent under the relentless pace.

“Bet you don’t feel so cocky now, huh?” he whispered, punctuating every word with another deep thrust.

You tried to answer but all that came out was a broken moan.

He chuckled low under his breath, slowing down just enough to drag himself out painfully slow before slamming back in to the hilt, making you cry out.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he licked a tear off your cheek and murmured, “Poor thing. Too much?”

You shook your head wildly, clinging to him.

He kept going until your whole body was trembling, until your nails carved angry red lines down his back, until you were sobbing his name like it was the only word you knew.

Finally, when your legs gave out completely and you sagged into the cushions, he slowed. His hands gentled, cradling you.

Wordlessly, he pulled you into his lap, your thighs straddling his hips. His cock still heavy and hard between your legs, pressed against your soaked folds.

He cupped your face in both hands, smoothing your hair back, and kissed you so softly it almost hurt. You whimpered into his mouth, desperate for him.

“You still want it?” he whispered against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathed, voice wrecked and trembling. “Please.”

He guided you down onto him slowly this time, letting you feel every thick inch stretch you open again.

You gasped, clinging to his shoulders, tears brimming in your lashes again from the slow, aching fullness.

“That’s it,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Take all of it. You’re doing so good.”

He rocked you on his cock gently, holding you close, whispering filthy things in your ear the whole time.

“Feel how deep I am, baby? You were made for this… made for me to fuck you like this.”

You whimpered, biting his shoulder to muffle your sobs of pleasure as he guided your hips, slow and deep and overwhelming.

“Never teasing me again,” he whispered, smiling against your hair. “Not unless you want this.”

You nodded desperately, grinding down against him, so full you could barely think.

“You’re mine to fuck,” he murmured, dragging his cock against that sensitive spot inside you, making you jolt in his lap. “Mine to ruin.”

You came apart in his arms, sobbing his name into his shoulder, shaking and gasping. He held you through it, never stopping, whispering praise into your ear until you completely fell apart.

And when he finally followed, spilling deep inside you with a low groan, he didn’t move away.

He just held you, rocking you gently in his lap, brushing kisses across your temple, your jaw, your mouth.

Like he hadn’t just broken you completely.

Like he was never gonna let you go.

The next morning, you could still feel it — a dull, delicious ache between your thighs with every step you took. Your body was sore, your neck littered with faint bruises you tried—and failed—to cover with makeup, and your heart raced every time you even thought about Jungwon.

Which was a problem. Because you were sitting across from him in class, and he kept sneaking little glances at you from behind his glasses, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips whenever your eyes met.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, clenching your thighs together under the desk, cheeks burning.

“What’s up with you?” one of your friends whispered, elbowing you in the side during lecture.

“Huh? N-nothing,” you stammered, staring down at your notes so hard the lines blurred together.

Another girl leaned over. “Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

“I don’t,” you protested weakly, adjusting your jacket to hide the faint purple marks blooming down your throat.

They weren’t convinced.

“You’re acting weird,” the first girl said, wrinkling her nose. “Like…all shy and jumpy. Did something happen?”

“No,” you said too quickly, glancing instinctively at Jungwon.

You caught him looking again — but this time, he didn’t look away. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, slow and deliberate, and your stomach flipped.

Oh god.

Your friends caught that look.

They turned, following your gaze, and their jaws dropped.

“Wait. No freaking way,” one of them whispered, half-laughing. “You’re into him?!”

“I—” You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

The other girl snorted. “Since when do you like nerds?”

You shrank into your seat, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. Especially when Jungwon leaned back in his chair casually, spreading his thighs just a little wider under the desk — like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You swallowed hard, pulse hammering in your throat.

“Bet he’s not that nerdy when he’s alone with her,” one of your friends joked under her breath, laughing.

Your face flamed.

And across the room, Jungwon smiled lazily at you, like a wolf who knew his prey wasn’t going anywhere.

prompt request list

[abbotjack]

A Year of You

part three of the life we grew series (part one ✧ part two)

summary : Jack experiences the life he never thought he could have—one small moment, one milestone, one quiet act of love at a time. Through first steps, long winter nights, and the ache of watching her grow too fast, he learns that family isn’t something you find. It’s something you make—and hold onto with everything you have.

word count : 11,658

warnings/content : 18+ MDNI! marriage intimacy including smut, emotional vulnerability, parenting milestones (first words, first steps, first birthday), marriage-coded affection, strong family themes, soft but explicit depiction of married sexual intimacy, very husband-coded and dad-coded Jack Abbot energy.

MONTH ONE

It’s the first night home from the hospital when Jack realizes no amount of emergency training prepares you for a seven-pound newborn screaming at 2:00 a.m.

You’re crying, too.

Soft, exhausted tears you wipe away with the heel of your hand while trying to figure out the damn swaddle that looked so easy in the maternity class.

Jack watches you for a second from the nursery doorway, heart caught somewhere in his throat. Then he steps in, limping slightly from the long day and the prosthetic pinching at the socket, and kneels awkwardly next to you on the carpet.

“Move over, honey,” he mutters, hands gentle as he scoops up the baby—your baby—his daughter—like she’s something sacred.

"You’re doing good," he says, voice low, rough around the edges. "We’re just outnumbered, that’s all."

You let out a low, breathless laugh and lean into his side, drawn in by instinct more than thought. Jack smells like the hospital—something sharp and sterile clinging to his skin—but beneath it, there's a rougher pull: warm skin, worn leather, the dark, carved scent of mahogany and teakwood.

“C’mon, little bean,” Jack murmurs, voice low and rough with exhaustion. “We’ve made it through worse nights than this.”

You snort under your breath.

“She’s five days old, Jack. What worse nights?”

He shifts the baby higher onto his shoulder, the motion easy, instinctive, like she’s already been part of him forever. Without missing a beat, he deadpans, “You ever been stuck inside a Black Hawk during a sandstorm?”

You smack his arm, half laughing, half crying again, the sound breaking loose before you can catch it. Jack just grunts, the barest curve tugging at the corner of his mouth. He rocks the baby gently, his palm splayed wide over her tiny back like he could shield her from the whole world if he tried hard enough.

“You’re not in a war anymore, Jack,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He doesn’t look at you. Just leans down, pressing a kiss to the soft, downy hair at the crown of your daughter’s head.

“No,” he says, so quietly you almost miss it. “But I’m still fighting for something.”

The first month is a mess.

The kind of beautiful mess Jack would throw fists for if anyone ever tried to take it from him.

You both live in pajamas now. The kitchen has surrendered first—an open graveyard of half-drunk coffee cups, takeout containers, and meals nuked just enough to be edible. Some nights, you collapse into bed with the baby between you, swearing you’ll move her to the bassinet as soon as you can feel your legs again.

Jack, somehow, turns out to be better at diaper changes than either of you expected.

“Field dressing a sucking chest wound’s harder,” he mutters at four a.m., hands steady as he peels back the tabs of a fresh diaper. You’re blinking back tears over the latest catastrophic blowout, but Jack just shrugs, casual, like he's back in the desert again. “You just gotta respect the shrapnel.”

You’re better at feeding her—at being soft, patient, warm, even when you’re dead on your feet.

Jack watches you from across the couch sometimes, nursing her with your sweatshirt slipping off one shoulder, and he thinks about how he almost didn’t get this.

How easily it could’ve gone the other way.

And he aches.

God, how he aches.

At her two-week checkup, Jack nearly decks a stranger.

You’re pushing open the door to the pediatrician’s office when it happens—some old guy with too much time and too little shame leers and says, “Bounced back fast after birth, huh?” His eyes drift lower, lingering where they have no business being.

You freeze, the words catching in your throat.

Jack doesn’t.

He moves without thinking, sliding in front of you with the kind of quiet, coiled force that doesn’t ask twice. It’s instinct, muscle memory, something deeper than thought. His frame blocks you from view, every line of his body taut with warning.

“Move along,” Jack says, low enough to rattle the floorboards.

The guy doesn’t argue. He takes one look at Jack—at the broad set of his shoulders, the dead-calm heat in his eyes—and stumbles off without another word.

Your fingers find Jack’s wrist, a light touch, grounding him before he slips somewhere darker.

He flexes his hand once, twice, the tension bleeding out slow. Then, wordlessly, he threads his fingers through yours, squeezing once.

He doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t have to.

On the nights when the house feels too small and the baby won’t sleep unless she’s moving, Jack drives.

He straps her into the car seat so carefully you'd think she’s made of glass, adjusts the rearview mirror just to catch a glimpse of her, and drives the empty streets of Pittsburgh while you nap in the passenger seat, a ratty Allegheny General hoodie drowning you to the wrists.

Jack hums under his breath to fill the silence.

Old Johnny Cash songs. Some half-forgotten lullaby he doesn’t realize he knows.

You wake up once at a red light and find him staring at the baby in the mirror like she’s the first sunrise he’s ever seen.

You don’t say anything.

You just reach across the console and wrap your fingers around his wrist again.

Jack squeezes back.

Always back.

By the end of the first month, the house is wrecked, your work email has 235 unread messages, and Jack is one wrong word away from brawling with the guy at the grocery store who keeps asking if he needs "help carrying his bags" because of the limp.

Some nights you fall asleep on the couch with the baby breathing soft against your chest, too worn down to even shift her to the bassinet. Tonight’s one of those nights.

Jack walks in from the kitchen and stops when he sees you there—both of you curled into each other, the porch light casting a soft glow across the room.

Slowly, carefully, he lowers himself down. Not onto his knees—he plants himself into a sitting position, legs stretched out, leaning his good shoulder into the side of the couch so he’s right there, steady and close.

He brushes your hair back from your face with the backs of his fingers, so gently it almost doesn’t touch.

You stir at the contact, your voice thick with sleep.

"You’re tired too. Let me take her."

Jack shakes his head.

"No."

It’s soft. Absolute. Final.

He reaches up, sliding his hand over your shin, anchoring himself to you. His other hand comes to rest lightly on the baby's back, fingers spanning nearly her whole body.

"You’ve done enough today, baby," he murmurs, voice rough and low, barely stirring the air.

"You both have."

Jack tilts his head against the couch, eyes slipping closed. He doesn't need to say it—how much this moment means, how deeply it roots itself inside him.

The weight of it—the love, the exhaustion, the brutal, perfect ache of having something to lose again—presses deep into his bones, his chest, his blood.

And he lets it.

Finally, finally, he lets it.

MONTH TWO

The second month of her life feels quieter—but not easier.

The house settles into a strange rhythm: sleep in broken stretches, coffee going cold on the counter, laundry half-folded before someone cries (you, him, the baby—any of the above).

And Jack, god love him, tries to hold it all together like he's still back in combat—shouldering it, swallowing it, limping through it even when it's bleeding him dry.

You wake up around 3:00 a.m. to the soft, rhythmic creak of footsteps.

The baby’s crying had pierced your dream, but what keeps you awake is the sound of Jack pacing the living room—steady, stubborn, relentless.

You get out of bed and creep toward the hallway, heart aching at the sight you find:

Jack's shirt is rumpled, hanging loose over sweatpants. His hair's a wreck. He's moving with that stiff, exhausted limp he gets when he’s pretending everything’s fine. When it's been rubbing wrong all day and he hasn't said a word about it.

Your baby is pressed against his chest, tiny fingers clinging to the fabric of his t-shirt, and Jack’s rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles, murmuring nonsense under his breath.

You stand there for a second, heart splitting open inside your chest.

He’s trying so hard.

He’s carrying all of it.

And you’re not about to let him do it alone.

"Jack," you say softly.

He startles a little, blinking over at you with that war-tired look he gets sometimes, like he forgot he's allowed to have backup now.

You cross the room without hesitation.

"Hey," you murmur, gentle but firm, sliding your hands around his forearms. "Give her to me, baby."

Jack opens his mouth to argue—but you’re already untangling the baby from his arms, lifting her carefully against your chest.

He lets go with a shuddering breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

You bounce your daughter lightly, whispering soft, nonsense words into her ear while you use your free hand to tug Jack down onto the couch beside you.

"You’re limping bad," you say, thumb brushing over the line of tension at his brow. "You’re running yourself into the ground."

Jack huffs, looking away like he’s embarrassed, like admitting to needing anything is too much.

But you don’t let him.

You tilt his face back toward you with two fingers under his chin—gently, insistently.

"You don’t have to earn this, Jack," you whisper, so low it barely stirs the air. "You already have."

He closes his eyes like the words hurt—and heal—all at once.

You settle your daughter into the crook of one arm, and with the other, you start tracing slow, soothing circles against Jack’s wrist.

Just touching him.

Just reminding him you’re here.

That you’re not going anywhere.

Jack leans his head back against the couch, breathing you in. He doesn't say anything for a long time.

He just lets himself be touched.

Be loved.

And somewhere around the fourth circle you draw against his wrist, he shifts closer and drops his forehead to your shoulder with a heavy, broken little sigh.

You turn your face into his hair and close your eyes.

In the second month, the baby starts to smile for real.

Real, gummy, lit-up smiles that make Jack feel like some knife's getting twisted deeper and deeper in his chest every time he sees them.

She smiles biggest when Jack talks. It doesn't matter what he's saying. He could be reading off the damn grocery list, and she lights up like he’s singing Sinatra.

You catch him one afternoon standing in the kitchen, holding her in the crook of his arm like it’s second nature now, explaining in a deadly serious tone why the Pittsburgh Steelers are going to break his heart again this year.

“Listen, kid, it’s tradition. You root for them, they let you down. Builds character.”

You grab your phone and snap a picture before he can bark at you not to.

Jack scowls, but you see the faintest twitch of a smile he can’t fight back.

He wants to remember this.

You both do.

The second month also brings the first real fight since bringing her home.

It’s stupid.

It’s exhaustion and hormones and pride, the way all stupid fights are.

You leave the car seat in the wrong spot—tilted funny, not latched all the way into the base—and Jack’s voice cuts sharper than he means it to when he points it out.

“She’s tiny, for Christ’s sake, you can’t just—”

“I’m trying, Jack!” you snap back, tears already stinging because you’ve been running on fumes for weeks and you hate feeling like you’re screwing up.

“Yeah? So am I.”

You’re both breathing hard, the kind of thin, angry breaths that never come from real hatred—only from fear.

Only from love.

You turn away, chest heaving. Jack grips the counter, knuckles white, wrestling the instinct to bark something else, something mean just to end it.

Instead—he exhales hard, walks over to you, and wraps his arms around your shaking shoulders from behind.

You don’t fight him.

You crumble.

"I’m sorry," he says, rough against your ear. "You’re doin’ good. Better than good."

His mouth presses to your temple.

"I’m just... scared, honey." It guts him to say it out loud. It tears something wide open. But it’s the truth.

You turn in his arms, grab two fistfuls of his t-shirt, and bury your face against his chest.

Jack just holds you.

Breathes you in like it’s the only thing keeping him standing.

At her two-month appointment, the pediatrician grins and says she’s perfect.

You hold Jack’s hand in the sterile white room, squeezing so tight he must feel the bones grind together.

He doesn’t pull away.

He squeezes back.

Hard.

In the car afterward, Jack drives one-handed with his other hand curled protectively around your thigh, thumb tracing slow, steady lines into your jeans.

You lean into his shoulder at the stoplights, both of you blinking back tears that neither one of you says a word about.

That night, when the baby finally sleeps and the house goes still, you coax Jack into the shower first, insisting you’ll handle the night feed if she wakes.

He tries to protest.

You kiss the protest right off his mouth, slow and deep, until he’s dizzy from it. Until he forgets how to argue.

And when he comes back. you’re waiting for him in bed, the baby curled between you like the only piece of heaven either of you has ever touched.

Jack hesitates for half a second in the doorway, looking at you like a man seeing home for the first time.

Then he crawls in beside you, tucking you against his chest, wrapping his hand around both you and the baby like he can physically keep the whole world at bay.

"You’re my best thing," you whisper into his skin.

Jack's arms tighten around you instinctively.

You feel the rumble of his voice more than you hear it when he answers.

"You two are mine," he says hoarsely.

"My only thing."

And for the first time since she was born, all three of you sleep through the night.

Together.

Whole.

MONTH THREE

The first real laugh doesn’t come from you.

It doesn’t come from the hundreds of stupid faces you’ve been making, the toys you bought, the songs you sang off-key.

It comes from Jack.

Of course it does.

You’re sitting on the floor one slow Sunday afternoon, sorting laundry, when you hear it—a sharp, surprised little giggle that bubbles out of your daughter’s mouth like she’s just been given the whole damn world.

You snap your head up so fast you almost get whiplash.

Jack’s standing over the bassinet, freshly showered, shirt slung loose over his broad frame, cradling her under the arms and bouncing her so carefully.

She’s looking up at him with those big, bright eyes—utterly delighted just to exist in his arms.

And he’s looking at her like she’s gravity itself.

Jack bounces her again. She squeals, full-body, gummy-mouthed, hands flapping.

Jack grins—a real one, crooked and wide and rare—and chuckles under his breath.

"You like that, huh?" he mutters, voice going soft the way it only ever does for her. "Yeah, you would. Tough little thing."

You don't realize you’re crying until Jack glances over and sees you.

His grin fades, replaced by that worried furrow between his brows you know too well. "Hey. Hey, honey, what's wrong?"

You crawl over the laundry, heart a molten, useless mess, and surge up to kiss him—just grab the collar of his stupid, soft t-shirt and haul him down into a kiss so full of love it knocks both of you sideways.

He catches you with one arm, the baby cradled between you, and lets you sob into his mouth without complaint.

Lets you cling.

Because he knows.

Of course he knows.

"I love you," you breathe against his jaw when you finally surface.

"I love you so much I don't even know what to do with it."

Jack presses his forehead to yours, breathing hard.

"You’re doin’ fine, baby," he says hoarsely.

"You’re doin’ perfect."

Jack starts pulling on his black scrubs again.

Not full-time.

Not yet.

Just a couple shifts. Just enough to feel like he’s still the guy who shows up when it counts.

You watch from the kitchen doorway, the baby warm against your hip, as he adjusts the fit of his prosthetic with practiced, impatient hands. The grimace flashes across his face for just a second before he smooths it away.

You shift the baby higher, heart aching.

"You don’t have to prove anything, Jack," you say softly, voice thick with sleep and worry."You’re already everything we need."

He exhales slowly through his nose, scrubbing a hand over his jaw, his movements stiff with exhaustion.

Then he shakes his head once — small, stubborn, final.

"I gotta do it for me," he says simply.

No drama. No explanation. Just truth.

You don’t argue.

You just step closer, barefoot across the tile, and reach up to cup the back of his neck — that vulnerable, familiar spot you’ve loved for years — pulling him down into a slow, steady kiss.

"Come back safe," you whisper against his mouth.

Jack leans into you for a second longer than he means to, his hand sliding instinctively over the baby's small back, grounding himself in you both.

"Always," he promises, voice rough.

You let him go — but not before slipping a small, folded scrap of paper into the chest pocket of his scrub top when you hug him goodbye.

A stupid, crumpled love note, already warm from your palm.

He doesn’t find it until hours later — after he’s stitched up a kid with a broken bottle wound, after he’s cleaned puke off his boots, after he’s barked orders across the trauma bay like muscle memory.

It’s almost 3 a.m. when he sinks down onto a bench in the stairwell, legs aching, head heavy.

Jack fishes the note out absentmindedly, thinking it’s a scrap of gauze.

But when he unfolds it, it’s your handwriting — messy and rushed, like you couldn't get the words down fast enough:

We miss you. We love you. Come home to us.

Jack stares at it for a long second, the breath catching thick in his chest.

He presses the heel of his hand against his face — hard — willing the burn behind his eyes to back off.

Then he folds the note carefully, tucks it back into the pocket over his heart, and pushes himself upright again.

One more patient.

One more hour.

One step closer to home.

The baby starts reaching this month. Grabbing everything. Blankets. Your hair. Jack’s dog tags, which he sometimes wears tucked under his shirt when he needs grounding.

The first time she grabs them—those worn, cold little pieces of steel swinging free when Jack leans over her bassinet—he freezes.

She wraps her tiny fist around the chain and pulls. Hard.

Jack just stands there, staring down at her like she’s cracked open his chest with one touch.

You come up behind him, pressing your hand to the small of his back, feeling the shudder that goes through him.

"You okay?" you murmur.

Jack swallows.

Nods.

"Yeah," he says roughly.

"Yeah, she’s just... strong."

You curl your arms around him from behind, forehead pressed to the sharp line of his spine.

"You’re allowed to be soft too, y'know," you whisper against him.

"She's allowed to make you soft."

Jack closes his eyes and lets the weight of your words settle into his bones.

Late one night, after a particularly brutal shift, Jack comes home bone-deep exhausted. You meet him at the door, baby asleep on your shoulder, wearing nothing but his oversized hoodie and a pair of fuzzy socks.

Jack stares at you like he’s forgotten how to speak.

You press the baby into his arms without a word.

Then you wrap your arms around his waist, lean your cheek against his chest, and stand there breathing him in—hospital soap, sweat, exhaustion, love—until he finally melts against you.

Until he finally lets himself be held. He presses a kiss into your hair, breathing out a laugh that sounds more like a sob.

"Missed you" he rasps.

MONTH FOUR

Jack notices it before you do.

The shift.

One morning, while you’re wrestling a footie onesie onto the baby and cursing under your breath about the tiny snaps "Who invented these? Satan?", Jack leans against the doorframe, rubbing a hand absently over the back of his neck.

“She’s different,” he says quietly.

You look up, exhaustion written all over your face, and squint at him.

“She’s four months old, Jack. She’s not gonna start driving a car yet.”

But he just shakes his head slowly, eyes never leaving her.

“No. She's holdin’ herself different. Stronger.”

You look down—and sure enough, your daughter is sitting up better now, her spine wobbling but proud, little hands planted on her thighs like she’s ready to start throwing punches.

Jack steps forward like he can’t help himself.

He drops to a crouch—careful with the stiff pull of his prosthetic—and cups one big hand around her tiny side, steadying her without overwhelming her.

"Look at you," he murmurs, voice breaking a little at the edges.

"Look how tough you are, bean."

You watch him, heart climbing into your throat. Because you see it too. Not just the way she’s changing—but the way he is.

Jack Abbot, who once stood half a step too close to a rooftop edge because the world was too heavy, is now kneeling barefoot on the carpet, whispering praise to their baby girl who thinks the sun rises and sets just for him.

You slip your arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing your cheek against the crown of his head.

"I love you," you say simply.

Jack kisses the back of your hand.

"I know," he whispers. "And I love you back, honey. 'Til my last damn breath."

This is the month she starts teething.

You survive it through sheer grit, coffee, and the unspoken pact of taking turns walking endless circles around the house with a red-faced, furious, drooling baby in your arms.

Jack handles it the way he handles everything: quietly, stubbornly, with a fierce, aching kind of patience that makes you want to cry and kiss him all at once.

You find him one night at 2:00 a.m., swaying barefoot in the kitchen, shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips, the baby gnawing furiously on his knuckle while he hums some gravelly, broken tune into her hair.

You lean against the doorway and just watch him, blinking hard against the tears that well up.

Jack catches you watching. Doesn’t say anything—just crooks a finger at you without shifting the baby from his chest.

"Get over here, pretty girl," he rumbles.

You go willingly, sliding into his side, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying your face in the warm, solid plane of his ribs. He smells like soap, exhaustion, and her. Your whole world tucked into one man.

"You’re the best thing that ever happened to us," you whisper into his skin.

By the end of Month Four, she’s rolling over.

You’re standing in the living room when you hear Jack’s startled bark of laughter from the floor.

You whip around to find him sprawled out on his side, laughing helplessly, while your daughter beams at him proudly from her belly, arms and legs kicking like she just won the goddamn Super Bowl.

Jack slaps a hand to his heart dramatically.

"Baby girl, you’re killin' me!" he groans. "You’re growin’ up too fast already. Slow it down, huh? Let your old man catch up."

You cross the room, scooping the baby up into your arms. "You hear that?" you coo into her hair. "You’re makin’ Daddy emotional."

Jack props himself up on an elbow, watching you two with the softest damn look you’ve ever seen on his face. The one he only ever shows you. The one no one at the Pitt would even believe exists.

You kneel down beside him, easing your daughter into his arms again. You watch the way his whole body softens around her without thinking. How his scarred hands are somehow the safest place in the world.

"She’s perfect," you say softly.

Jack leans down and kisses the baby’s forehead, then yours.

"Yeah," he murmurs.

"So’s her mom."

You spend the rest of the evening curled up together on the living room floor—baby between you, laundry forgotten, the whole messy, perfect world you built breathing around you.

And for the first time since she was born—you’re not scared of time passing. You’re just grateful for every second you get.

MONTH FIVE

It happens by accident.

The first time she says it.

Jack’s sitting cross-legged on the living room rug, hair mussed from sleep, still wearing the black t-shirt and flannel pants he stumbled into after pulling an overnight shift.

You’re curled up on the couch, fighting to keep your eyes open, watching the early spring sunlight spill across the floorboards.

Your daughter is sitting between Jack’s legs, gripping his dog tags in one tiny fist, drooling determinedly all over them while Jack pretends to be scandalized.

"Hey, those are government-issued, kid," he drawls, grinning like a fool. "You gonna pay for ‘em with your drool tax?"

And then—like it’s the most natural thing in the world—she looks up at him, eyes bright, and squeals:

“Dada!”

The word is messy. Slurred. Half-drooled through.

But it’s real.

Clear as day.

Jack freezes.

Completely still, like something in him just snapped loose.

You sit up fast. "Jack," you breathe.

He doesn't move.

Doesn't blink.

The baby bounces in place, fist still clutching the tags, crowing delightedly: “Dada!”

Jack finally exhales, a broken, wrecked sound like he just got the wind punched out of him. He scoops her into his arms so fast she squeals again, arms flailing, laughing.

He presses her tight against his chest, hands shaking.

"You talkin’ to me, bean?" he rasps, voice thick, kissing the top of her head over and over.

"That me?"

You slide off the couch, crawling across the floor to them, feeling your heart explode into a thousand shimmering pieces inside your chest.

You wrap yourself around both of them—Jack and the baby—your forehead resting against Jack’s stubbled jaw. He’s shaking. Full-body, unstoppable tremors. You just hold him tighter.

"You deserve it," you whisper into his skin.

"You deserve every single thing she sees in you."

Jack swallows hard, arms crushing both of you close.

"You’re my whole damn world," he chokes. "You and her—you’re it."

You kiss the corner of his mouth, the scar on his jaw, the salt of tears he didn’t mean to shed.

And when the baby says it again—“Dada!”—giggling and tugging on his shirt, Jack laughs through the wreckage of himself.

Laughs like he’s got a whole new heart built from the two of you.

This month, Jack comes home earlier when he can. Steals hours when the Pitt is short-staffed but Robby covers.

You make a ritual out of it without even meaning to:

Jack coming through the door, dropping his bag with a heavy thunk, immediately seeking you out first.

He always kisses you first.

Even if the baby’s squealing for him, even if she’s kicking her legs and reaching. He presses his mouth to yours first—hard, desperate, like he’s coming up for air.

Then he takes her from you, murmuring nonsense into her hair, like he can't bear to go another second without her.

You watch him sometimes from the kitchen, heart brimming so full it feels like your ribs can’t contain it.

You let the pasta overboil, the laundry pile up, the emails from your accounting firm stack unanswered.

Because nothing matters more than the way Jack Abbot holds his daughter like she’s sacred. Like she saved him.

Late one night, the baby finally goes down after an hour of slow rocking and whispered lullabies.

You tiptoe out of the nursery, heart thudding like you just disarmed a bomb, and find Jack waiting for you at the end of the hallway.

He’s leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. That tired, crooked half-smile lifts his mouth when he sees you.

"She out?" he murmurs.

You nod, grinning like an idiot. "For now. If we breathe too loud, she’ll start screaming again."

Jack chuckles low under his breath. Then he crooks two fingers at you—small, unmistakable—come here.

You pad over and melt against him without hesitation.

Jack’s arms slide around you automatically, strong and sure, pulling you flush against the solid line of his body.

For a few minutes, you just stand there.

Swaying a little.

Breathing in sync.

Letting the world be small and soft for once.

His hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, thumb stroking lazy circles into your hairline. "Miss you," he says roughly, voice low enough that it rumbles against your chest.

You pull back just enough to look at him—really look. At the dark shadows under his eyes. The worn edges of him. And the way his whole face softens when he’s looking at you.

"I’m right here," you whisper, sliding your hands up under his old t-shirt to trace the warm skin of his back. "You always got me."

Jack huffs a soft, broken sound and leans down to kiss you.

Slow.

Lingering.

The kind of kiss that says a thousand things neither of you knows how to say out loud.

His fingers flex against your spine, like he’s grounding himself. Like he’s still a little terrified that one day he’ll blink and you’ll be gone.

You deepen the kiss, tipping up onto your toes, tangling your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck. Jack groans quietly into your mouth and tightens his arms around you, lifting you slightly off the ground like it costs him nothing. (You know it does—you know he’s tired and sore—but he doesn’t care.)

He kisses you like you’re oxygen. Like if he stops, the whole world will collapse.

When he finally pulls back, breathing hard, he presses his forehead to yours and just stands there.

Silent.

Anchored.

You guide him gently down the hall, fingers laced through his. The two of you slip into your bedroom, leaving the door cracked just enough to hear the baby if she wakes.

He eases onto the bed. The prosthetic comes off with a practiced, tired motion — a routine so familiar it barely registers anymore — and he sets it aside without ceremony, like he can't stand the thought of one more thing strapped to him tonight.

You slide into bed beside him, the mattress dipping under your weight. Jack doesn’t hesitate—he hooks an arm around you and pulls you in close, pressing you against the steady, grounding thump of his heart.

With his free hand, he pulls the blanket up over both of you, tucking it carefully around your shoulders like he's sealing you in. Then he drops a slow, tired kiss into your hair, lingering there for a second longer than he means to, breathing you in like you're the only thing anchoring him to the world tonight.

You fall asleep like that—safe. Held. Loved. The two of you breathing slow and steady together, with your whole world sleeping peacefully in the next room

MONTH SIX

The thing about six months is—everything starts feeling bigger.

Her smiles.

Her babbling.

The way she kicks her legs like she’s training for the Olympics whenever Jack comes home from a shift.

And your love for her—your daughter—isn’t something neat and quiet anymore. It’s loud inside your chest. It’s messy.

It’s overwhelming in the best way.

You get the morning to yourself one rare Saturday.

Jack’s still knocked out in bed, sleeping off back-to-back night shifts, and the baby wakes early, squirming and babbling in her crib.

You scoop her up before she can start crying and carry her to the kitchen, heart already aching at how much bigger she feels in your arms.

She babbles nonsense at you while you fix a bottle one-handed, bouncing her on your hip.

You talk back, just as nonsensical, just as giddy.

"Yeah? You think so? I dunno, kiddo, the market’s not looking great for that kind of investment portfolio," you joke, nuzzling her soft cheek.

She giggles—full, wild baby giggles—and you feel it shake right through your ribs. You feed her at the table, tucked into the crook of your arm, sunlight pouring across both of you.

The house is still and warm and safe.

It’s just you and her.

When she finishes, you keep holding her, rocking gently. Her little fingers find your hair and tug, clumsy but affectionate. You laugh quietly and kiss the top of her head.

"You’re my best girl," you whisper.

"My whole heart."

You don’t even hear Jack come in. You just feel the change in the air—the way the world gets steadier when he’s close.

You glance over your shoulder to find him standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. Sleep-tousled hair. T-shirt wrinkled. And looking at you like you hung the goddamn stars.

"Hey," you murmur.

"Hey," Jack echoes, voice low and rough with sleep.

He crosses the room without hesitation and drops a kiss onto your hair first, then the baby's. Then he sinks into the chair beside you, resting his forearms on the table, eyes drinking you both in like he’s starving for it.

"You’re beautiful, you know that?" he says softly.

It’s not performative.

It’s not dramatic.

It’s just the truth, plain and steady, the way Jack says everything that matters.

You feel your face flush, your chest tighten.

Even after everything—even after the sleepless nights, the spit-up stains, the exhaustion—you still feel beautiful when he says it.

You still believe it.

Because it’s Jack.

And Jack doesn’t waste words.

That afternoon, you all pile into the beat-up Jeep and drive out toward the river, just to get some fresh air.

The baby's strapped into her carrier against Jack's chest, her little arms poking out. He adjusts the straps with the easy, absent-minded care of a man who would walk through fire just to keep her comfortable.

You hold hands as you walk, your fingers laced tight, your body leaning naturally into his.

Jack lifts your joined hands sometimes just to kiss your knuckles, like he can't help it. Like the love is leaking out of him at the seams.

The baby finally goes down around 9:30. You stand frozen outside the nursery door. Across the hall, Jack leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that sleepy, crooked smile that always gives him away.

The 'I’d burn the world down for you' smile.

The one he thinks you don’t catch.

You tiptoe toward him, socks sliding slightly on the hardwood, and he lifts his hand—palm up, waiting. You grin, fitting your fingers into his without hesitation.

He squeezes once, slow and firm.

"Mission accomplished," he murmurs, voice low enough that it doesn't even ripple the heavy quiet of the house.

You snort quietly.

"One kid. One bedtime. And it almost killed us."

Jack tugs you gently toward the kitchen. "Almost," he says, mock serious. "But not quite. ‘Cause you married a damn machine, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes so hard you almost sprain something.

"A machine who just bribed a six-month-old with four rounds of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and half a pack of graham crackers?"

Jack smirks as he grabs two beers from the fridge—one for him, one he opens and hands to you like he’s presenting you with fine wine instead of a Sam Adams.

"A win’s a win, pretty girl. Don’t question the strategy."

You lean your elbows on the counter, taking a long pull from the bottle, watching him. Loose, hair messy. T-shirt stretched across his shoulders. Grinning at you like he’s just happy you’re standing in the same room breathing.

He sets his beer down, then leans in until his forehead bumps yours lightly. "Still married to me," he murmurs, like it’s some grand, ridiculous miracle. "Still puttin’ up with my ass."

"Somebody’s gotta," you tease, nose brushing his. "Can't let you run around unsupervised. You’d live on black coffee and beef jerky."

Jack laughs, low and warm, and drops a quick kiss onto your mouth—chaste, easy. But you feel the zing of it anyway.

The way you always do with him.

Like the earth tilting a little under your feet.

You set your beer down blindly and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Jack goes willingly, hands sliding low around your hips, thumbs slipping under the hem of your sleep shirt to find bare skin.

He grins against your mouth, voice rough with teasing. "Careful, honey. House is quiet. Baby’s asleep. Husband’s feelin’ reckless."

You tilt your head back a little, laughing softly.

"Oh yeah? What exactly is reckless gonna look like?"

Jack leans in again, bumping your nose with his. "Thinkin’ about throwin’ you over my shoulder. Maybe take you to the bedroom. Show you you’re still my girl first and her mom second."

You feel it—the way your heart slams against your ribs, the way heat flares under your skin.

God, you missed this.

Missed him like this—teasing and full of life and all that wrecking ball love aimed straight at you.

You tug his shirt higher, fingers skimming the hard plane of his back. "You’re all talk, Dr. Abbot," you whisper. "You forget—I know you."

Jack’s grin turns dangerous. "You sure about that, honey?"

Before you can answer, he sweeps you off your feet with one fast, practiced move—arms under your thighs, lifting you onto the kitchen counter like you weigh nothing.

You gasp, laughing breathlessly as your beer bottle clatters harmlessly.

Jack crowds into your space, standing between your knees, hands braced on either side of you. His eyes are heavy-lidded, burning dark under the dim kitchen light.

"You’re still my girl," he says, voice dropping.

"Always gonna be."

He kisses you then—and it’s nothing like polite.

It’s deep, dirty, teeth dragging gently against your lower lip before his mouth seals over yours in a kiss so consuming it makes you whimper low in your throat.

Jack groans in answer, sliding his hands up under your shirt, palms rough and reverent over your ribs, your back, the soft curve of your waist.

You clutch at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, your body arching into him on instinct.

The kiss goes on and on—long, slow, greedy—like he’s trying to make up for every second the two of you have been too tired, too busy, too wrapped up in being parents to just be husband and wife.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathing hard, faces flushed, chests heaving.

"Love you," he murmurs, so low and wrecked you almost cry. "More now than the day I married you. More every damn day."

You kiss him again, softer this time, and thread your fingers through his.

"Same, Jack," you whisper. "Same. Always."

Jack presses another kiss to your temple, then another to your cheekbone, then one to the corner of your mouth—because he’s a man who doesn’t know how to stop once he starts.

And you let him.

You let him kiss you like he’s starving, let him hold you like you’re the only thing that’s ever made sense.

Because you are.

You always have been.

MONTH SEVEN

The late afternoon light spills golden across the living room, catching on the scattered toys and half-folded laundry.

Jack’s flat on the carpet, army-crawling after your daughter, who’s shrieking with laughter as she belly-flops toward her stuffed dinosaur.

"And she’s on the move!" Jack calls, his voice exaggerated and playful, dragging himself forward with his arms, shifting his weight carefully off his prosthetic like it’s second nature now.

Your daughter lets out a victorious squeal as she clutches the dinosaur, kicking her legs against the carpet.

Jack grins up at you from the floor, flushed and a little breathless. "Looks like the rookie’s got me beat," he says, dragging himself into a full, lazy sprawl. "Think she’s got a better crawl time than I ever did."

You’re sitting on the couch, your legs tucked under you, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

"Maybe if you had a binky and a stuffed T-Rex in basic, you would’ve made it further," you tease.

Jack barks a laugh, slow and rumbling.

"You tryin’ to start something, honey?" he says, rolling onto his good knee and levering himself upright in that smooth, practiced motion he’s mastered without fanfare.

"You got the mouth for it."

You arch a brow, playful.

"You wouldn't dare."

Jack tilts his head, that cocky, lopsided grin tugging at his mouth. "Wanna bet?"

Before you can move, he lunges—slow enough for you to see it coming, fast enough that you shriek anyway, scrambling off the couch.

You dart for the hallway, laughing breathlessly. Jack’s heavy footfalls thud behind you—the lighter footstep mixing with the solid stomp—and you’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe as he catches you around the waist.

You squeal, kicking your legs uselessly as he lifts you, hauling you easily against his chest.

"Gotcha," he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck, his voice a low, delighted growl.

You slump against him, laughing helplessly, your heart hammering in your chest.

His hands are warm on your hips, steady and strong. Jack chuckles low, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

"Raincheck," he murmurs against your skin. "Handle her first. Then you’re all mine."

It takes an hour to get her down.

A bottle.

Three lullabies.

Some quiet rocking with Jack swaying on his feet, his body moving instinctively to keep her settled. You watch him from the nursery door, heart aching so sweetly it hurts—the way he holds her, the way his whole body softens when she finally, finally gives in to sleep.

When he lays her gently in the crib and brushes a calloused knuckle over her cheek, you know you’re done for.

Jack straightens slowly, adjusting his balance before he turns back toward you. He’s flushed and tired and barefoot, in an old black t-shirt and sweats—and he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

You take his hand silently.

He lets you.

Lets you pull him down the hall, fingers laced tight into yours.

The second you’re both inside the bedroom, Jack tugs you to a stop.

"You sure?" he says, voice low, serious. "Honey... we don’t gotta rush. You’re tired, I know—"

You cut him off with a kiss.

Hard.

Needy.

Full of every word you can’t fit into your mouth fast enough.

Jack groans low in his chest and lifts you carefully, steadying you against him before easing you back onto the bed.

No rush.

No slam.

Just the kind of rough, reverent touch that only he knows how to give you.

He crawls over you slowly, moving like he’s already half-drunk on you. His weight shifts naturally off the prosthetic, instinctive after all these years—but this time, he pauses. Sits back on his heels, eyes never leaving yours.

Wordlessly, Jack reaches down and unclips the prosthetic, setting it aside with a soft thud against the floor.

He exhales through his nose, rough and steady, the kind of sound he only makes when he’s dropping the last of his defenses. When it’s just you and him and nothing else that matters.

Then he’s back over you, heavier now, hotter, real in a way that steals the breath from your lungs.

Jack fits himself between your thighs, the mattress dipping under his weight, his hands bracing on either side of your head.

"You good, baby?" he mutters, voice gravel-thick, the words brushing warm against your mouth.

You nod, already arching up into him, already lost.

Jack smiles—slow, crooked, hungry—and kisses you like a man who’s got nowhere else to be. His hands slide under your shirt, fingers rough and reverent against your skin.

"You’re so goddamn beautiful," he mutters, voice wrecked.

"Been drivin' me crazy all day. Chasin’ you around the house like a damn fool."

You giggle breathlessly into his mouth, tugging his shirt off over his head.

Jack chuckles low, dragging your sleep shirt up inch by inch, kissing every new patch of skin he uncovers.

He’s warm and solid and stupidly good at this—kissing you until you’re panting, until you’re squirming under him, until you’re gasping his name.

"You’re mine," he murmurs against your skin. "Still my girl. Always."

When he finally slides inside you, it’s slow.

Deep.

A rhythm he sets without thinking—steady, grounded, devastating.

You clutch at his shoulders, your nails scraping gently over the broad planes of his back. Jack buries his face in your neck, groaning low as he rocks into you, one hand sliding under your thigh to angle you closer, deeper, better.

"God, baby," he pants. "Feels so good—always you, only you—"

You arch into him, every nerve ending blazing, every breath catching.

He kisses you like it’s the first time.

Like it’s the last time.

Like it’s the only thing that’s ever made sense.

You come apart first—soft, wrecked, clinging to him—and Jack follows with a groan that sounds like your name shattered across his lips.

He stays there, breathing hard against your skin, his body heavy and warm and so damn real on top of you.

You thread your fingers through his messy hair, stroking gently. Jack hums low, shifting carefully so he’s not crushing you, pulling you into his side, tucking your head under his chin.

"You’re my whole world," he whispers, voice cracking. "You and her. Always."

You kiss the center of his chest, right over his hammering heart.

"You’re ours too," you whisper back. "Always."

MONTH EIGHT

The house is so quiet in the early mornings now.

Jack is always the first one up. Not because he has to be—but because he wants to be.

You find him almost every morning sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, the baby in his lap.

Sometimes he’s got her pressed against his chest, one hand wrapped completely around her little body.

Sometimes he’s reading aloud from whatever’s nearby—sports page, medical journal, the back of a cereal box.

This morning, it’s the latter. Jack’s deep voice rumbles through a very serious dramatic reading of the Lucky Charms ingredients list.

You lean against the doorway, grinning like an idiot, just watching them. Watching the way he sips his coffee absently between sentences, the way the baby clutches a fistful of his t-shirt, drooling contentedly.

The way Jack drops a kiss onto her hair every couple minutes without even realizing he’s doing it.

This is what love looks like, you think. This is what home feels like.

It happens on a Sunday morning.

One of those soft, slow days where the house smells like coffee and pancakes and the baby’s shrieking happily in her bouncer.

Jack’s at the stove, wearing nothing but flannel pajama pants and an old army t-shirt, trying to flip pancakes while holding a spatula and a coffee mug at the same time.

You’re sitting on the counter, swinging your legs, wearing Jack’s hoodie and absolutely no pants, grinning like an idiot.

"You're gonna burn those," you warn, sipping your coffee.

Jack glances over his shoulder, smirking.

"Negative, pretty girl. This is controlled chaos."

The second he turns back, the pancake flops halfway out of the pan, folding over itself in a sad, gooey mess.

You laugh so hard you almost spit out your coffee. Jack groans dramatically, setting down the spatula and mock-bowing to the baby.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he says solemnly. "Your breakfast has been compromised."

The baby claps her hands excitedly.

And then—clear as a bell—she looks straight at you and says, "Mama!"

You freeze.

Jack freezes.

The whole house freezes.

Your coffee cup slips out of your hands onto the counter with a thunk. Jack turns, eyes wide, mouth falling open in slow motion.

"Did she—?" he croaks.

"Did you—?"

You slide off the counter, rushing over, scooping her up in your arms, laughing and crying all at once.

"Say it again, baby," you whisper, beaming through your tears.

And sure enough, your daughter beams back at you, kicking her little legs, babbling happily: "Mama! Mama!"

Jack’s standing frozen by the stove, coffee mug forgotten in his hand, just staring at the two of you. His face is flushed, his eyes suspiciously bright.

You turn toward him, bouncing your daughter on your hip.

"Jack," you laugh, voice thick.

"She said it! She really said it—"

You don’t even finish. Jack’s across the room in three strides, careful not to trip on the rug, pulling you both into his arms.

He hugs you so tight you can barely breathe, his head dropping to your shoulder, his whole body trembling with the force of it.

"I’m so goddamn proud of you," he mutters hoarsely, pressing a kiss into your hair, then one to your daughter’s head.

"So proud of my girls."

You blink up at him, overwhelmed with love, cupping his face in your hand. Jack leans into your touch shamelessly, his lashes lowering, his mouth soft and wrecked.

"Mama," the baby chirps again, and Jack laughs—low and broken and full of more joy than you’ve ever heard from him.

"Yeah, that’s right, bean," he whispers. "That’s your mama. Best damn one in the world."

You end up on the couch in a heap—Jack stretched out with you sprawled half on top of him, the baby curled between you, all three of you breathing each other in.

It’s messy.

It’s imperfect.

It’s everything.

The first real crisp Saturday, Jack piles you both into the Jeep.

No agenda. Just air. Leaves. Time.

He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over to hold yours across the console.

The baby babbles in her car seat, kicking her little feet at the window, and Jack keeps glancing at her in the mirror with that soft, wrecked look you’ve come to recognize.

You end up at a small park—just woods and trails and a rickety playground. Jack lifts her out of the car seat with the same appreciation he uses for the most fragile patients.

Presses his forehead to hers.

"You ready to see the world, little bean?" he whispers.

You walk the trails together, Jack keeping her tucked close to his chest, narrating everything he sees: "This is a maple tree, sweetheart. Turns red in October. Looks like the whole damn world’s on fire when it hits right."

"These are squirrels. Little thieves. Don’t trust ‘em."

You laugh the whole time, half at him, half at the sheer overwhelming joy of watching the two people you love most in the world wrapped up in each other.

Jack pulls you into a kiss when you least expect it—deep, slow, hungry—with the baby giggling between you.

Like he can’t help it.

Like loving you is as natural to him as breathing.

MONTH NINE

Jack’s the one who insists on it.

You catch him late one night scrolling through his phone in bed, looking at local pumpkin patches like he’s planning a heist.

You smother a laugh into his shoulder.

"You serious about this, Abbot?"

Jack snorts.

"First Halloween. First pumpkin. Non-negotiable."

He books it two days later—drives you both out on a crisp Saturday, one hand on the wheel, the other resting over your knee the whole time. Your daughter’s bundled in a little fleece onesie with bear ears on the hood, clutching the strap of her car seat and babbling to herself.

When you get there, Jack’s all in.

Wheeling the wagon.

Letting her "choose" a pumpkin by the scientific method of whichever one she tries to eat first.

Crouching slow and careful so she can sit in a pile of leaves while he snaps a thousand photos on his phone like a proud dad on steroids.

At one point you turn around and find Jack sitting in the dirt, legs sprawled out, your daughter crawling all over him—tugging at his hoodie strings, trying to steal his hat.

He’s laughing, full and unguarded, his face lit up in a way that makes your heart physically ache.

It happens when you’re least expecting it. Which, you’re starting to realize, is how all the big moments happen.

You’re doing dishes in the kitchen. Jack’s sitting on the floor, flipping through a toy catalog someone left at the nurses' station, pretending to be very serious about Christmas gift planning.

The baby’s on her playmat, babbling to herself, surrounded by stuffed animals and teethers.

You walk into the living room—and freeze.

She’s got her tiny hands braced on the couch. Her legs wobble dangerously under her.

But somehow—God, somehow—she pulls herself upright.

Your mouth drops open.

"Jack—"

Jack’s eyes are wide, almost panicked.

Like if he blinks, he’ll miss it.

Like it’s the most fragile miracle in the world.

She wobbles, Jack lunges—and catches her gently before she tips.

"That’s my girl! You’re gonna take over the world!"

You sit down hard on the couch, heart pounding, grinning so wide your face hurts. Jack beams at you over her head, and you swear to God his eyes are shiny.

He won’t admit it.

But you know.

You both pretend it’s for her.

It’s not.

It’s for you and Jack.

Jack spends hours on the couch sketching costume ideas like he’s designing a battle plan.

Pirates?

Farmers?

Superheroes?

Jack suggests "trauma surgeons," but you veto it when he tries to strap a fake scalpel to the baby’s diaper bag.

You finally settle on a simple one: A little pumpkin suit for her.

You and Jack wear matching orange hoodies.

Jack grumbles, but secretly loves it—you can tell by the way he keeps brushing his knuckles against your side every time you get close.

At the neighbor’s block party, Jack holds her the whole time, proudly accepting compliments like he personally grew her in the backyard.

He lets her chew on his hoodie string.

Lets her grab fistfuls of his hair.

Lets her shriek in his ear without flinching.

Later, back home, you find him sitting on the floor in the nursery with her asleep on his chest—both of them still wearing their pumpkin outfits.

MONTH TEN

The front yard was Jack’s idea.

"You can’t stay cooped up in the house forever, bean," he tells her, propping the storm door open with his boot while he adjusts the old quilt he spread out over the browning fall grass.

"You gotta touch some dirt sometime. It's character-building."

You smile from the porch, arms folded loosely over your chest, heart full to the point of aching. It’s cold enough that you’re both bundled up—Jack in an old hoodie and jeans, your daughter in a too-puffy jacket that makes her arms stick out like a tiny scarecrow.

Jack crouches carefully. He sets her down on the quilt.

She sits there for a second, blinking up at him.

Then at you.

Then down at the crinkling, crunchy leaves scattered across the grass. Jack tosses her one—big and orange, almost bigger than her face. She squeals, clutching it in both hands, waving it around like a victory flag.

You laugh quietly.

Jack turns his head, grinning that slow, easy grin that still knocks the breath out of you.

And when he turns back—it happens.

She pushes herself upright.

Wobbly.

Determined.

Like the whole world’s just waiting for her to take it.

Jack freezes, one hand still half-extended like he was about to offer her another leaf.

You watch, breathless, from the porch—hands fisted in the sleeves of your sweatshirt, heart pounding.

And then—one step. Another.

Toward him.

Toward Jack.

Jack doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Just stays absolutely still, arms hanging loose at his sides, his whole body vibrating with the effort not to rush forward and grab her.

When she stumbles into him—three full steps later—he scoops her up so fast you barely see it happen.

Lifts her high into the air, spinning once under the porch light, laughing that full, broken, wrecked-little-boy laugh you only hear when he’s completely undone.

"That’s my tough girl," he breathes, pressing kiss after kiss into her pink cheeks. "God, you’re somethin’ else, baby bean."

He tips his head back toward you, still holding her high against his chest—and you see it.

The way his mouth is trembling.

The way his eyes are suspiciously bright, blinking hard.

Jack Abbot, who’s been shot at, seen death on rooftops and in ER trauma bays—wrecked into soft, helpless pieces by a pair of wobbly baby legs and three whole steps.

You jump down off the porch without even thinking, running toward them, wrapping yourself around them both.

Jack catches you one-armed, pressing his face into your hair, breathing hard.

"You see that?" he mutters against you, voice rough and low. "She chose me. Took her first steps to me."

You nod, laughing through tears.

"I saw it, Jack," you whisper back. "I saw everything."

The first real cold snap hits two weeks later.

Jack makes a production out of it—dragging down tubs of winter clothes from the attic, testing the space heater, checking the baby monitor batteries like you’re preparing for the Arctic.

You find him one evening sitting on the floor of the nursery, surrounded by a sea of tiny coats, mittens, hats, and boots.

The baby’s crawling around giggling, trying to chew on every hat she can get her hands on.

Jack’s holding up a toddler-sized snowsuit with a deeply skeptical expression.

"She’s gonna look like a marshmallow," he mutters. "Can she even breathe in this?"

You laugh, sitting down beside him. "You’re gonna be that dad, huh?" you tease, bumping his shoulder. "The one who brings her to preschool wearing a parka in 40 degrees?"

Jack lifts his chin stubbornly. "Better too warm than too cold."

He glances at the baby trying to fit an entire mitten in her mouth and grins. "Besides. She’s gotta survive Pittsburgh winter. It’s a rite of passage."

You didn’t plan on getting a tree that day.

Jack says it’s too early. You agree.

But when you drive past the little lot tucked between the church and the fire station—when you see the tiny white lights strung overhead—you both say nothing.

Just look at each other.

And turn in without a word.

Jack lifts the baby out of her car seat, tucking her close against his chest inside his coat. You wander through the rows slowly, letting her grab fistfuls of pine needles, letting Jack argue seriously with the teenager working the lot about which tree "looks the most structurally sound."

You settle on a small, sturdy one.

Jack ties it to the roof of the Jeep himself, refusing help.

You know better than to argue—watching him knot the ropes with steady, competent hands, his mouth set in that focused line you love so much.

When you get home, he lifts the baby onto his shoulders and lets her "help" you string lights—her squealing laughter echoing off the walls.

Jack catches your hand as you walk past, tugging you into his side.

"We’re makin’ a good life, huh, pretty girl?" he murmurs.

"One hell of a good life."

MONTH ELEVEN

You didn't plan to make a big deal out of it.

First Christmas.

She's too young to remember.

That's what you kept telling yourselves.

But Jack...he can't help himself.

You find him at the kitchen table on Christmas Eve, hunched over a roll of wrapping paper, tongue poking out slightly as he wrestles with Scotch tape and a box that’s clearly too big for its contents.

The tree glows in the corner of the living room, soft and gold, the whole house smelling like pine and cinnamon.

Your daughter babbles from her playpen, chewing on a crinkly ribbon Jack forgot to hide. Jack just shakes his head fondly and lets her.

When he sees you standing there, arms crossed and smiling, he tries to scowl. Fails miserably.

"What?" he mutters, sticking another crooked piece of tape down. "Santa’s gotta show up somehow."

You cross the room, sliding your arms around his shoulders from behind, resting your chin on top of his head.

"You’re gonna ruin her for real Christmases when she’s older," you murmur against his hair. "Nothing’s ever gonna top this."

Jack hums low in his throat, one hand reaching up to squeeze your forearm where it crosses his chest. "Good," he says simply.

"I don’t want her ever thinkin' she’s gotta go lookin’ for somethin' better. She’s already got everything she needs."

It’s still dark when you feel him stir.

Jack’s body slides out of bed carefully, trying not to wake you. You crack one eye open and watch him pad silently to the nursery in sweatpants and a ratty old Steelers hoodie.

You follow a minute later, wrapping a blanket around yourself.

You catch the scene from the hallway: Jack crouched low by the crib, one big hand resting gently on the bars, his head bowed.

Not saying anything.

Just... being there.

Breathing her in.

He lifts her slowly, carefully, pressing his face into her hair, and you hear it—the soft, wrecked sound he makes when she cuddles into him without hesitation.

"Hey, bean," he whispers, voice cracking.

"Merry Christmas, baby girl."

You stand there, hand pressed to your mouth, heart splitting wide open.

Jack turns finally, cradling her tight against his chest. His eyes find yours in the half-light. And even though he doesn’t say anything, you hear it clear as day:

Thank you. Thank you for her. Thank you for this. Thank you for choosing him.

It starts snowing after breakfast. Big, lazy flakes drifting down outside the windows, blanketing the world in white.

Jack builds a fire in the living room fireplace, cursing gently under his breath when it smokes at first.

You bundle the baby in a ridiculous red-and-white onesie covered in tiny reindeer and sit her in the middle of the couch with a pile of pillows on either side like she's royalty.

Jack flops down beside her with a grunt, stretching out his long legs and tilting his head back to watch the snow.

The fire crackles low. The tree lights blink softly. Your daughter babbles, chewing happily on the sleeve of her onesie. You settle into Jack’s side, his arm automatically looping around your shoulders.

He kisses your temple without thinking. Without needing to.

"You warm enough, pretty girl?" he murmurs. "Got everything you need?"

You don’t answer.

You just nod, curling closer into him, breathing in the scent of smoke and pine and Jack. Because you do. You really, truly do.

The baby sleeps early, worn out by too many presents, too many relatives, too much excitement.

You and Jack stay up late.

Too late.

Sitting on the living room floor like teenagers, backs against the couch, drinking hot chocolate and eating the burnt-edge cookies you forgot to take out of the oven in time.

You talk about stupid things at first. Work. Sports. Whether the baby's going to end up a hockey player or a piano prodigy.

And then Jack gets quiet. Staring into the fire. "You ever think it’d be like this?" he asks finally, voice low and rough. "Back then?"

You know what he means.

Back when the world was a lot harder.

When he never thought he’d make it past thirty.

When you weren’t even sure you believed in happy endings.

You slide your hand into his, threading your fingers tight.

"No," you whisper. "Not like this." You turn your head, smiling soft against the firelight. "Better."

Jack squeezes your hand once, hard, and you feel him nod. Feel him breathe. Feel him let it in. The good. The love. The life he never thought he deserved.

MONTH TWELVE

The holidays are over. The tree’s gone. The stockings are packed away. The house feels a little empty without all the lights and glitter, but honestly?

You’re relieved.

You and Jack have been circling the same conversation for two weeks now: How big should her first birthday be?

Jack leans over the kitchen counter one evening, thumbing through a battered old notebook, his mouth pulled into that stubborn line he gets when he’s pretending to be casual but is actually spiraling.

"I mean..." he says, flipping a page. "We could just do somethin' small. Family. Cake. A couple of her toys. No big deal."

You lift an eyebrow at him.

"And by ‘small’ you mean...?"

Jack shrugs, grinning sheepishly.

"Maybe invite, like, Shen. Dana. Robby. Princess. Perlah. Ellis. Collins. Langdon. McKay. And maybe the rookies if they don't annoy me"

You snort, dropping into the chair across from him.

"So, basically... the entire Pitt."

Jack smirks. "You wanna tell Ellis she’s not invited to her honorary niece’s first birthday?" He taps his pen on the paper. "'Cause I’m not getting in the middle of that one, pretty girl."

You shake your head, laughing under your breath.

"You’re impossible."

Jack leans across the counter, catching your chin lightly between his thumb and knuckle, tilting your face up.

"You love me anyway."

The January sky is sharp and dark, heavy with the kind of cold that makes the world feel smaller.

You find Jack in the nursery after you put the baby down—sitting in the old rocking chair, one foot nudging the floor in a slow rhythm. He’s staring at the crib. Silent. Still.

You lean against the doorway, watching him. Watching the way the weight of the year—the weight of love—settles heavy over his broad shoulders.

Jack finally looks up, catching your eye. His voice is low, rough with something he hasn’t figured out how to say yet.

"You remember..." He clears his throat. "You remember when we brought her home?"

You nod, stepping quietly into the room. Press your hand to the back of his neck, feeling the tension there. The life humming under his skin.

"I didn’t know what the hell I was doin'," Jack mutters, a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. "Didn’t know if I deserved her. If I deserved you."

You slide your fingers through his hair, soft and sure.

Jack leans into it like he can’t help himself.

"You do," you whisper. "You deserve all of it, Jack. You always have."

He pulls you into his lap then, wrapping his arms around your waist, tucking his face into your neck. Holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

And maybe you are.

Maybe you always will be.

The day of her birthday dawns cold and gray, the streets dusted with a thin layer of January snow.

You wake up to Jack already downstairs, setting up balloons and streamers with the grim determination of a man trying to fix a leaky roof mid-thunderstorm.

You find him half-wrestling a giant "1" balloon into the living room, muttering curses under his breath when it refuses to cooperate.

"You good, champ?" you tease, sipping your coffee.

Jack glares at you over the top of the balloon, but there’s no heat in it. Only love. Only joy. Only him.

"You wanna fight the damn helium next?" he mutters, half-laughing as he pins the balloon to the back of a chair.

The party is perfect.

Small, chaotic, full of noise and warmth.

The Pitt crew shows up—Dana with an armful of presents, Robby with some ridiculous talking toy that immediately gets banned to the garage after ten minutes, Shen slipping Jack a flask when he thinks you’re not looking.

Jack never puts her down.

Not really.

He lets her toddle a little—lets her show off the new steps she’s so proud of—but he’s always within reach. Always there to catch her.

You cut the cake.

She smashes her tiny fists into the frosting with a triumphant shriek. Everyone cheers. Jack laughs so hard he almost drops the camera.

Later, when the guests trickle out and the house quiets, you find Jack standing in the kitchen, wiping down the counters like he can scrub the day into permanence.

He turns when he hears you, setting the rag down. Looks at you with that look—the one he only ever gives you. The one that says everything without a single word.

You cross the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your face into his chest.

Jack hugs you back immediately, fiercely. Kisses your hair. "She’s gonna be so damn good, honey," he murmurs against your crown. "You’re makin’ sure of that."

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes. "You too, Jack," you whisper. "You’re the best thing she’ll ever know."

"Can’t believe we made it a year," he murmurs. "Can’t believe we get to keep doin’ this."

"Best thing we ever did." you whisper.

[cadelinhadaromanoff]

𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

Summary: You spent the day with Ana, her laughter filling the spaces where your nerves tried to creep in. Between playful moments and soft conversations, you kept thinking about the step you were ready to take — one that would change all your lives forever. For once, the future didn’t feel heavy or distant. It felt like home, and you were finally ready to claim it.

Paring: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Tony Stark x Daughter!reader.

Word count: 7432

Warnings: huge amount of fluffiness, Tony being a good grampa, Natasha being slightly insecure. Reader and ana being the best duo ever.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Author's notes: Hey everyone, I just want to apologize for taking so long to post. I’ve been going through a tough time in my personal life, but I’m back now. Also, I’m really sorry I couldn’t fit everything I wanted into one chapter—sometimes the story just takes its own direction! But please, feel free to send in any asks! I absolutely love talking with you all.

By the way, how do you think Reader’s contact is saved in Natasha’s phone? I’d love to hear your thoughts on that! 

　 ゛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ୨୧ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓈒 ◌ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ꒰ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 🍼 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ୨୧ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

　　 　˳ 　 　 　 　 　　⁺　　༄　　　༝　 　 ₊

There were many moments in her life Natasha could label as memorable.

Some for their pain. Some for their absurdity. Some for the sheer adrenaline of surviving something she shouldn’t have survived.

But there weren’t many she could call peaceful.

And none, until now, that she could call happy.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling so at peace, so quietly and utterly content, as she did now — with you stretched lazily beside her, your hand absently tracing slow circles against her hip, your breathing slow and steady, filling the room with a comfort she never thought she’d have.

Your presence was soothing in a way nothing else had ever been.

Not a mission completed. Not a victory celebrated.

Just you.

The breeze after a long storm. The fresh air after years underground.

She let her eyes close again, allowing herself a rare indulgence: believing that maybe, this time, happiness wasn’t something temporary. Maybe this time, it was here to stay.

And it was all because of you.

A sudden clatter of a fork against a plate snapped her gently from her thoughts.

Natasha blinked, finding herself at the kitchen table, sunlight filtering through the windows, the scent of something simple and warm hanging in the air. You were across from her, lazily spinning your fork through your pasta, while Ana sat between the two of you, her face scrunched in concentration as she tried to stab a cherry tomato without it rolling away.

“You know,” you said, a teasing glint in your eyes as you watched Ana’s struggle, “I think she’s developing your stubbornness.”

Natasha quirked an eyebrow, resting her chin on her hand. “She’s smarter than that.”

Ana, seemingly proving the point, gave up on the fork altogether and grabbed the tomato with her fingers, stuffing it triumphantly into her mouth.

You snorted, pointing at Ana with your fork. “Pure Romanoff energy right there.”

Natasha gave a half-smile, letting herself soak in the easy atmosphere — but there was a subtle flicker in her chest, that lingering voice that always whispered caution. She’s not yours, it reminded her. Not completely. But she shoved it away, focusing instead on how natural this felt, how it was getting harder and harder to imagine a day without you here.

“You’re a bad influence,” Natasha muttered, nudging Ana’s foot under the table playfully.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you grinned, twirling more pasta onto your fork before adding casually, “Besides, she needed a partner in crime.”

Ana babbled a few incoherent words, her hands waving enthusiastically, and both of you laughed — the kind of laugh that made Natasha’s shoulders finally, truly relax.

She leaned back slightly, watching the two of you with something dangerously close to awe.

Without even trying, you had stitched yourself into the fabric of her life.

And for once… she wasn’t terrified of it.

“You look proud of yourself,” she said dryly, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I am,” you said without shame. “Successfully corrupted two generations in one go.”

Natasha shook her head, a soft, reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” you said easily, meeting her gaze with a lazy warmth that made her chest tighten. “But I’m your idiot.”

Natasha felt the words hit harder than they should have, a strange ache blooming low in her ribs. She dropped her gaze to Ana, who was now sleepily pushing peas around her plate, her small body swaying with exhaustion.

She reached out, smoothing down Ana’s wild hair, using the small, automatic gesture to steady herself.

There was no need to rush anything, no need to put a name to what they had just yet. But deep down, Natasha couldn’t shake the feeling that it was consuming her—this burning, aching longing. It wasn’t just a desire; it was a yearning to belong, to be loved unconditionally. She knew, without a doubt, that you loved her, loved both of them. But that wasn’t enough. She craved more. She needed to claim it, to declare to the world, to the universe, that you were hers—and that Ana was hers too. That they were a part of you, and she needed that certainty, that assurance. She needed to hear it, to feel it, to be sure.

For now, she was trying to convince herself that it was enough to just sit here, to eat badly cooked pasta at a wobbly kitchen table, to listen to you make stupid jokes, and to feel — maybe for the first time in her entire life — safe. But, undeniably she needed more…

Natasha watched as Ana’s tiny hands clumsily tried to collect peas into a pile, her red hair catching the soft light filtering into the kitchen. The image — her daughter, your easy smile, the quiet bubble of home — was enough to make Natasha’s chest ache, in that fragile way she was still learning not to fear.

You leaned back in your chair, your fork abandoned, tapping your fingers lightly against the table with a mock-considering expression.

She caught the glint in your eyes a second before you spoke, and immediately narrowed hers in suspicion.

“So…” you dragged the word out, clearly up to no good. “May I take your daughter to spend the day with me?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That sounds suspicious as hell.”

You pressed a hand dramatically over your heart. “Come on, give me some credit.”

She didn’t even blink, still looking at you like she was waiting for a confession.

“I need her expert opinions,” you went on, leaning closer across the table as if you were sharing a world-class secret. “She’s a pro. Totally slays. I need her stamp of approval for some… very important choices.”

Ana, oblivious to the conspiracy brewing over her head, yawned noisily and dropped her fork onto her plate with a loud clatter.

Natasha folded her arms, pretending to be stern even as the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement. “And what, exactly, is my almost 2 year daughter a pro at?”

You shrugged innocently. “Taste. Style. World domination. You know, the basics.”

She rolled her eyes, but it was useless — the warmth in her chest was already spreading, making her feel lighter, safer than she had any right to be. She wasn’t stupid; she knew exactly what you were doing. You weren’t asking just to spend time with Ana — you were giving her another quiet reassurance. You weren’t going anywhere. You weren’t running. You were settling deeper into their life, into her life, stitch by stubborn, beautiful stitch.

Still, Natasha wasn’t about to make it easy for you.

“You break her, you bought her,” she said dryly, sipping from her mug, pretending like the flutter in her chest didn’t almost make her hand shake.

You gave her a wide, cheeky grin, one that made her feel far younger and far older all at once.

“Deal,” you said without hesitation. “But just for the record — if anything, she’s more likely to break me.”

Natasha huffed, hiding her smile behind her cup. Ana babbled something unintelligible and smacked her little hand onto your forearm, demanding attention, and you turned immediately to her with exaggerated seriousness, as if she had just issued a royal decree.

“See?” you said, throwing Natasha a look of mock helplessness. “Already got me wrapped around her finger.”

Natasha shook her head, but this time she didn’t even try to hide the smile that stretched across her lips.

Maybe happiness was here to stay after all. Maybe it was in the small, stupid moments — the peas scattered on the plate, the teasing between two people who never thought they could have this, the warmth of a child’s touch grounding them both.

And maybe, just maybe, she deserved it.

Even if the thought still scared her more than any battlefield ever could. The last thing Natasha saw was you cleaning Ana, carefully changing her into a fresh outfit with that proud smile of yours that always tugged at her heart. As you gently adjusted her clothes, Ana giggled, her small hands reaching up to touch your face, causing your smile to widen even more. You lifted Ana into your arms with ease, holding her gently but firmly against your hip, your eyes meeting Natasha’s as you gave her a playful wink.

Ana, sensing the attention, gave a small, clumsy wave toward her mom, her tiny fingers reaching out in a wobbly, enthusiastic greeting. Natasha’s heart swelled at the sight, and she couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped her lips. You, her daughter, and the life you two were building together—Natasha never knew how much she needed this until she had it.

You gave her a knowing nod, and as if sensing her thoughts, you turned toward the door, carrying Ana with a relaxed confidence. You wanted her to feel secure. She deserved to, and she trusted you

.As the elevator doors closed behind you, you shifted Ana in your arms, making sure she was comfortable as you hummed softly to her. She was still too young to fully understand the words, but she appreciated the sound of your voice, her little eyes following you as you spoke.

“Alright, kiddo, time for a little adventure,” you whispered, your lips brushing the top of her head. “You know how important your mom is to me, right?” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. It was so easy to fall into this routine, to fall into this role as her protector, her companion.

Ana made a small sound in response—probably just babbling—but you took it as a form of agreement.

“Good,” you continued with a grin. “Because without her, well, I wouldn’t have anyone to bug. And speaking of… today, we’re going to see Grandpa Tony in his lab. He’s probably still complaining about something, but you know him… always making things ten times more complicated than they need to be.”

You shifted Ana slightly in your arms as the elevator dinged, reaching your floor. The doors slid open, and you stepped out into the hallway of the tower, the familiar hum of the building’s energy around you.

“Now,” you added playfully, “you’re gonna love my dad, as your grandfather. but don’t be fooled—he’s just as bad as me when it comes to getting distracted by work. He’ll probably try to show you his latest project and then talk my ear off about it for hours. Just wait. I swear, he could talk about a paperclip for a good hour if you let him.”

Ana let out a little squeal, clearly amused by your antics. Her little hands reached up and patted your face, her way of joining in on the fun. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her, her enthusiasm so pure and infectious.

As you made your way toward the lab, you could already hear the familiar sound of Tony’s voice from the other side of the door. “I swear, if one more person asks me how to fix the stupid cooling system—”

The door to the lab opened before you could even knock. Tony stood in the doorway, his signature smirk already in place. His eyes flicked from you to Ana in your arms, and a knowing grin spread across his face.

“Well, well, look who’s all grown up,” Tony teased, his gaze lingering on Ana. “Can’t believe you got a kid at your hip. That’s a new one, kid. I expected you to be way more of a chaos machine by now. But no, you went and got all soft. What’s next? You two gonna move in here and start taking naps on my couch?”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling at his usual sarcastic tone. “You know I’m just here for the tech, Dad. I’m not trying to turn your lab into a daycare center, don’t worry.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. “Uh-huh. Sure, sure. You don’t need to lie to me. I saw you with Ana out there. You’re whipped. I’ve never seen you so soft in all my life. Who knew Romanoff's kid would be the one to soften you up?”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you said, holding Ana a little higher in your arms. “But let’s not act like you weren’t the same way when you had me. Don’t try to act all tough now. We both know you can’t resist a little snuggle session with the kid.”

Tony dramatically clutched his chest. “Oh, please. I don’t need to hear about my ‘soft side’ from you. I’m just here to be a good, responsible parent. I’m not whipped like someone I know.” He flashed you an exaggerated wink, clearly enjoying the teasing.

“Right,” you replied with a roll of your eyes. “Sure, Dad. Whatever you say.”

Tony smirked and gestured toward a table full of gadgets and blueprints. “Come on in, kiddo. Let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into today. I’m sure you’ve got a ton of questions about the latest project, don’t you?”

“Not exactly…”

You said as you stepped into the lab, still holding Ana, who was now distracted by the flashing lights and screens around her. She seemed genuinely fascinated by everything, which just made Tony all the more excited.

“Look at her. Already smarter than both of us combined,” Tony muttered, as he turned toward a workbench and started rummaging through some tools. “And here I thought she’d be the one to keep you in check. Looks like you’re gonna need more than a few lessons to keep up with her.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the playful jab. “At least I’m not the one who’s got an army of robots and a super suit to do all the heavy lifting for me,” you retorted with a grin, giving Tony a sideways glance. “At least I’m doing this the old-fashioned way.”

Tony gave you a mock gasp. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re not secretly jealous of the Iron Man suit. Come on, admit it. You want one. It’s practically calling your name.”

“Maybe one day,” you said, as you gently sat Ana down on a nearby cushioned chair. “But today is all about her, and her mama. Right, Ana?”

Ana cooed, and you gave her a smile, her face lighting up at the attention. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as she looked up at you, her little hands reaching out toward Tony’s lab table in curiosity. It was moments like these that made you feel truly alive—connected, grounded, and exactly where you needed to be.

“Alright, kiddo, what do you think?” you asked her, motioning to the lab.

Tony raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he leaned over the table. “I think you’ve got your hands full with her, kid. I never thought I’d see the day you’d become the responsible one. But you did good. She’s gonna keep you on your toes.”

You shot him a playful look, watching as Ana grabbed a small tool from the table with the curiosity of a true Stark.

“Yeah, well,” you said with a soft chuckle, “looks like I’m already a little whipped. But that’s okay, I’m used to it.”

Tony laughed, his voice ringing out with amusement. “Sure, sure. Just don’t let anyone hear that you’re ‘whipped.’ Trust me, that’ll get around faster than you think.”

The lab was quieter than usual, a rare moment of stillness. The usual hum of gadgets and screens seemed almost distant as you sat across from your father, Ana perched on your lap, completely absorbed by the shiny new toy Tony had given her. You’d been bouncing this thought around in your head for a while now, and you knew there was no one better to talk to about it than your dad. He might be a little insufferable at times, but he always had a knack for giving you the advice you needed—whether you liked it or not.

“Dad,” you began, looking down at Ana for a moment before meeting Tony’s gaze, “I’ve been thinking about something. I’m… I’m thinking about proposing to Natasha. Asking her to be my fiancée.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but keeping his cool. “Wait, you’re thinking of proposing? To Natasha? Are you sure you’re not jumping the gun here?”

You exhaled a sharp breath, knowing that the question was coming but still unprepared for it. “Look, we’ve been through a lot together. We’ve been a family in everything but title for months now. We’re already doing the ‘partners in crime’ thing. We’re already there, but… we’ve never really labeled it, you know? We’ve never put a name on it. And I don’t know, I think it’s time for that. It feels right.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, eyeing you intently, his fingers steepled in thought. “I see. So, you want to make it official. Alright. But why the hesitation? Why bring it up now?”

You shifted Ana in your arms, your fingers absently playing with her hair as you chose your words carefully. “I’m scared of scaring her off. I mean, Natasha’s been through a lot, and she doesn’t really do the whole… emotional thing unless she’s sure. I’m worried that if I ask her, she’ll feel like I’m pushing her into something she’s not ready for. Even though I feel like she’s craving this reassurance too. She’s always been the one to hold back, to keep things close to her chest.”

Tony raised a hand, stopping you before you could go further. “Okay, hold up. First of all, I get it. Natasha’s not someone who opens up easily. She’s not a fan of the whole fairy tale thing. But here’s what you need to understand: if she’s with you, if she’s sticking around, it’s because she trusts you. She feels safe with you. And you don’t need to have some big, grand gesture to prove that.”

You shook your head, frustration creeping in. “It’s not just about proving it, though. I want to show her that I’m all in. That this isn’t just some… fleeting thing. I want to give her the reassurance she needs. She’s always been the protector, always been the one holding everything together. But I know she needs someone to hold her too. I just—I want to be that for her.”

Tony’s face softened just a fraction, the teasing glint in his eyes giving way to something more genuine. “I get it, kid. I really do. And listen, I’m not going to tell you how to do it, because that’s your thing. But you’ve gotta realize something: Natasha is probably more scared of losing you than you are of scaring her off. She’s been through hell, and she’s not just going to open up and let anyone in that easily. But she’s with you. You’ve got her trust.”

You let the weight of his words settle for a moment, feeling the truth in them. “You really think so?” you asked quietly, glancing down at Ana. She looked up at you with those big, innocent eyes, as if she could sense the shift in your thoughts.

Tony gave a small nod. “I know so. And the truth is, she’s probably more ready for this than you realize. Just don’t overthink it. Ask her, be honest, and take it from there. If she’s with you now, I think she’ll be with you for the long haul.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of relief washing over you. “Thanks, Dad. I think I needed to hear that.”

Tony stood up, stretching as he looked over at you. “No problem, kid. Just don’t screw it up.” He shot you a wink, and for the first time in a while, there was no sarcasm in his voice—just the simple truth. “And don’t keep me in the dark when you do it. I want the details. All the details.”

You laughed softly. “I’ll keep you posted. Thanks for the advice. And for not completely ruining my confidence.”

Tony smirked, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying the conversation far too much. “You’re welcome, kid. Now, go figure out how to propose without completely scaring her off. And hey, you better nail this because I’m already mentally preparing to be a grandpa.” He raised an eyebrow dramatically, as if the idea was more shocking to him than anyone else.

You blinked, not entirely sure if you heard him right. “A what?”

“Grandfather,” Tony grinned, his fingers tapping the table in mock contemplation. “That’s what you’re about to make me, you know. A grandfather. Romanoff’s kid. And here I thought I’d just be stuck dealing with you and your ridiculous tech experiments for the rest of my life, but no. Now I’m about to be the cool grandpa—can you even imagine that?”

Ana, who had been happily playing with one of Tony’s old gadgets on the table, made a noise that could only be described as half-babble, half-squeal. Tony, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned down and waved a finger in front of her face.

“Who’s the coolest grandpa, huh?” Tony cooed at Ana, his voice way too exaggerated for someone who had just turned into a grandparent in theory. “Is it me? You think I’m the coolest grandpa in the world? Or are you just excited about playing with my toys?”

Ana giggled, clearly entertained by the shiny object, and babbled something incoherent. Tony grinned, playing it up. “Ah, yeah, that’s what I thought. She’s totally on my side. Smart kid.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that Tony was completely right. Ana, in her usual way, was already totally on his side. “You’re a mess,” you muttered, but couldn’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of the whole scene. Tony was making being a grandfather sound like a full-on comedy routine, and it was honestly kind of working.

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it. You have no idea how great being a grandpa is,” Tony said, tapping his fingers against his chin. “I never thought I’d get here, but I’ve gotta say, Romanoff’s kid? I didn’t even see her as the ‘mom’ type, much less the ‘gonna-make-me-a-grandfather’ type. It’s like finding out your favorite action hero is secretly into knitting. Unexpected, but here we are.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m surprised you’re so okay with it. Natasha’s kid, huh? That’s… something.”

Tony chuckled, bouncing Ana on his knee as she babbled again, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Look, you’re both ridiculously lucky that she’s already a part of my life. You’ll be thankful when you’re bringing her over here for weekend visits, and I’m the one spoiling her rotten with whatever the hell I want.”

Ana babbled again, and this time Tony leaned in, making her giggle. “What’s that, kid? You think I’m awesome, right? I think you’re awesome too,” he cooed, making his best goofy face.

You watched, amused, as Tony continued to play up the role of doting grandparent. He picked up another gadget, handing it to Ana, making her laugh even harder. “You know, I’ve always been good with gadgets, but this? This is a whole new level. This kid’s gonna be a tech genius in no time, and I’m going to take all the credit. You know, because I’m basically the greatest uncle/grandpa of all time.”

“I’m not calling you Grandpa,” you said, laughing. “You’ll have to come up with a cooler nickname. And she is learning with me aka her moma, because i am better than you”

Tony smirked. “Oh, only in your dreams. I’m sure she’ll come up with something better. It’s gonna be great—she’ll probably end up calling me something way cooler than you ever would.” He gave you a side-eye and grinned. “You’re totally whipped. I’m already practicing my grandpa dance moves. Get ready.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. Tony had already fully embraced the idea of being a grandfather, even if he was just teasing about it. But the way he played with Ana, making her laugh, teasing you—there was something so natural and carefree about it all. You were glad she had Tony in her life. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to have him around more often… even if he was totally insufferable about it.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, Tony,” you said with a smirk. “You’re the best grandpa ever. But seriously, let’s focus. Do you think Natasha’s going to freak out when I do this?”

Tony waved a hand, his tone turning more serious. “Eh, you’ll figure it out. But remember, don’t make her run for the hills. We don’t need two of you doing the ‘are we really doing this’ dance, alright?”

“I’ll try,” you said, chuckling. “But you better not mess this up for me, old man.”

“Hey, I’m not the one getting whipped here,” Tony said with a wink, before turning back to Ana. “Alright, kid, give me a high five. I’m basically the coolest grandpa ever. You know it.”

Ana slapped her tiny hand against his with a giggle. Tony grinned, watching her as if she were the best thing in the world. Maybe, just maybe, he was looking forward to this whole ‘grandfather’ thing more than he’d let on

You gave Tony a final look as you prepared to leave, Ana still perched on your hip, her tiny hands clutching at your clothes. “Well, I’ve got a full day ahead of me,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Searching for the perfect engagement ring for Natasha and I. This is going to be a fun adventure.”

Tony’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Ah, yes, the youngest sugar mommy in the world,” he quipped with a wink. “Gonna be a real great look for you. You know, when you’re still taking care of Natasha’s ring shopping. That’s how I imagine you’ll end up—spoiling her with diamonds and tech gadgets while I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing. “Someone has to keep the romance alive, Tony. You should follow your daughter’s example, and Maybe do something nice for Pepper. She’s probably starting to forget you’re a romantic type.”

Tony blinked in mock horror, raising his eyebrows. “Whoa, whoa, slow down. You want me to—what? Romance Pepper?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’d have to start doing all kinds of work to undo all the ‘I’m too cool for romance’ stuff I’ve been saying for years. That’s a lot of work, kid.”

You smirked as you bounced Ana on your hip, “Well, you better start practicing, old man. Otherwise, Pepper might just find herself a new sugar daddy. Someone who doesn’t constantly crack jokes about being too cool for love.”

Tony shook his head, grinning like a mischievous child. “You know, you might be onto something there. But for now, I’m just going to sit here and laugh at you, while you actually go ring shopping. You, the ‘sugar mommy.’” He waggled his eyebrows playfully. “You’re making me proud.”

You shook your head, heading for the door with Ana still clinging to you. “Yeah, yeah. Keep laughing, Tony. You’ll see. I’m going to be the best fiancé ever, and I’m going to make it extra special for Natasha. I’ll make sure to rub it in your face when it works out.”

“Sure you will. Go on, then. Make sure that ring you’re buying is as shiny as your future,” Tony called after you, chuckling.

Ana gave a tiny, muffled giggle as she waved goodbye, and you couldn’t help but smile. At least you had a plan—and you weren’t about to let it slip away.

You carefully strapped Ana into the car seat, her tiny hands gripping at your jacket as you made sure she was comfortable. It had become second nature to you, taking care of her like this. As much as Natasha had a knack for being a fierce, independent woman, there was something about the way she let go when it came to you, trusting you with the things she didn’t always want to manage. Like letting you take control of the car, even though she had her own set of wheels parked in the garage. She simply didn’t care. It was as if she had declared herself a “passenger princess,” and you couldn’t help but adore that about her.

With Ana in the backseat, you started the engine, the sound of it a hum of quiet power beneath you. Your hand rested on the steering wheel, a comforting reminder of how much things had changed. You had come so far from when you barely knew what you were doing with your life. Now, you had a little girl to take care of something you never wanted, but now you can't imagine your life without, and a beautiful woman who trusted you with more than you ever thought you’d be capable of.

As you drove through the city, your mind wandered to the task ahead. Cartier. The place where you were going to pick out something so special, something that would show Natasha just how much you appreciated her. It was going to be perfect, or at least that was the plan. You weren’t nervous about the ring—it was more about what it meant. You weren’t just buying a piece of jewelry; you were solidifying your future. With Natasha. And Ana.

You looked in the rearview mirror, catching Ana’s wide eyes staring up at you, her face an open book of curiosity, though she could barely form words. “We’re going to get a special gift for Mommy, kiddo,” you said with a soft smile. “Something shiny, something beautiful. Your mom deserves it all, you know?”

She didn’t respond—of course, she didn’t. Ana wasn’t quite at the stage where she could articulate much yet, but you loved the way she looked at you, as if she understood every word you said, even though she was still finding her voice. Her small, round eyes followed your every move, and you could feel her focus on you, an innocence that was both heartwarming and, in its own way, a little overwhelming.

The drive to the shopping center was short. You parked and grabbed the diaper bag from the backseat, slinging it over your shoulder as you lifted Ana out of her seat, holding her close. She squirmed a little, reaching for the necklace you had on. You chuckled, adjusting her in your arms. She loves to play with your necklace, since she meet you in that meeting…

Ana gave a soft, gurgling sound that was almost like a laugh, and you found yourself smiling at how sweet and innocent she was, unaware of how much she meant to you, how much she meant to Natasha. You took her hand gently and led her inside the store.

Cartier was as elegant and pristine as always, with rows of sparkling diamonds and gold gleaming under the soft lighting. You had been here a few times before, picking out gifts for friends whenever you wanted to make them feel special, but today it felt different. It wasn’t just a matter of picking out something pretty. Today, you were making a statement.

You walked through the aisles, pointing to a few options as you spoke to Ana, even though you knew she wasn’t quite old enough to understand. “We’re going to find something perfect,” you murmured, trying to steady your nerves. “Something worthy of your mom. She deserves everything, sweetheart. You’ll see. When we give it to her, it’ll be like all our love wrapped up in a little shiny box.”

Ana babbled something, and you paused, letting out a small laugh. “I know, right? I’m a sucker for her too. But don’t worry, Ana. We’ll make sure to make her feel special. She's been taking care of us, so it’s our turn.”

The sales associate came over and led you to a display of rings, their beauty unmatched. You glanced at Ana as you moved, still holding her close to you, your thoughts drifting to Natasha. She had been through so much in her life, and yet she had managed to create this small, perfect world for the three of you. You could already see it—Natasha’s reaction when she saw the ring, the way her eyes would light up with surprise, a flicker of exasperation at the price, and maybe even a little bit of disbelief that you’d pulled it off.

You smiled at the thought, realizing how much you’d been anticipating this moment. The ring was only one part of it. The bigger picture was the commitment. You were giving her something she hadn’t had in a long time: stability. You were telling Natasha that you were in this for the long haul. And you would make sure to remind her of that every day.

You looked down at Ana again, who was now quietly observing the sparkling jewelry in the display case. “We’ll get something nice for your mom, don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll love whatever we choose.”

You held her a little tighter as the sales associate continued to show you options. It was easy to get lost in the idea of the future, of everything you wanted to build. With Natasha, with Ana. Your heart swelled with love, and it felt right. All of it.

You step closer to the glass display, Ana still cradled in your arms, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as her little head tilts to the side, eyes wide with curiosity. You can feel her soft breath against your skin, the gentle weight of her little body grounding you in the moment. The rings before you are dazzling, but none of them seem quite right—not yet.

The attendant who had greeted you steps back for a moment, giving you space, but there’s a soft, almost disappointed air lingering between you. You ignore it, your focus shifting back to the delicate pieces laid out in front of you. But then, something catches your eye—a glimmer of two sapphires set beside a diamond in one of the smaller boxes to the side.

You shift Ana slightly, her tiny body nestled against your shoulder as she lets out a soft, inquisitive sound, her eyes following yours. “Look at that, sweetheart,” you whisper to her, smiling as you tap the glass gently. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

One of the sales associates, noticing your attention, steps closer, her voice soft and professional but with a hint of genuine interest now. “Ah, you’ve spotted one of our more unique pieces. That’s a ring with two sapphires, one on each side of the diamond.” She glances at Ana, then at you, her smile warm. “It’s a beautiful choice—sapphires are often associated with loyalty and wisdom, making them an excellent pairing with a diamond. Very meaningful.”

You nod, turning the box slightly to get a better look at the intricate design. The sapphires seem to almost glow beside the diamond, their deep blue hue contrasting beautifully against the sparkling clarity of the stone. You can almost picture Natasha wearing it, the ring reflecting the light just as she would reflect the love and trust between you.

“That’s exactly what I’m looking for,” you say quietly, almost to yourself. “Something that feels meaningful… something that’ll speak to us, not just look pretty.”

Ana reaches up, her tiny hand brushing against the glass, her fingers outstretched in fascination, the soft giggles escaping her as she tries to touch the rings. Her eyes are focused entirely on the sapphire-colored stones, and her voice rises in a playful babble, “Mama!” she calls, her small voice so pure and filled with love.

You laugh softly, lifting her slightly so her cheek rests against yours. “You like this one, huh?” you murmur, the sound of her giggle filling the space around you, light and free. “You think Mommy would love it?”

The associate watches this exchange, a soft smile curving her lips as she takes in the sight of mother and child, a warmth in her expression that wasn’t there before. “It’s a beautiful ring,” she agrees, her tone softening. “Definitely something special.”

You nod, still looking at the ring. It feels right—like something that would belong to Natasha. “I think this one’s the one,” you say, more to yourself than anyone else, but the words hold the weight of a promise.

Ana reaches for you again, her little fingers grabbing at your collar as she pulls herself closer, her voice a high-pitched, innocent call. “Mama!” she repeats, her excitement contagious. You smile, your heart swelling as you bring her in for a closer hug, feeling the warmth of her tiny body pressed against yours.

“I think she’d love it too, sweetheart,” you murmur, looking down at your daughter’s sparkling eyes. “This will be the perfect ring for Mommy.”

The attendant, sensing the moment, steps back to give you space, her smile genuine now, her previous distance replaced with a soft admiration. You glance up, giving a small nod as you make your decision, knowing in your heart that this ring is more than just a symbol of love. It’s a reflection of the beautiful life you’re about to continue building with Natasha—and the little one you’re holding close to your heart.

You finished selecting the grand diamond ring for Natasha, but then you found yourself drawn to another, for you this time. With a much simpler piece. It wasn’t large or flashy, but it had something about it that caught your eye—a small band with delicate peridots, the gemstones sparkling softly under the lights. As you traced the band with your finger, you couldn’t help but think of the eyes that would one day glance down at it. Natasha’s eyes. Ana’s eyes. The rich green of both of them, so full of life and love. The peridots reminded you of that warmth, of the connection you had with them, something so deeply rooted and irreplaceable.

You knew this ring wasn’t about wealth or grandeur; it was about something far more personal. It was about you, Natasha, and Ana. Your family. It was a symbol, simple but meaningful, something you could wear to remind yourself of everything you had, and everything you hoped for.

The attendant, who had been helping you, noticed the change in your demeanor and smiled. “This one, too?” she asked gently, noticing how your eyes lingered on the ring. “It’s a beautiful choice, very understated. Your fiancé is a lucky woman to have someone with such fine taste.”

You looked up at her, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “I’m the lucky one,” you replied quietly, your voice thick with emotion. “She’s giving me a family.”

You shifted Ana in your arms, her little face breaking into a wide grin as she giggled in your arms. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, too, the sound of her joy filling your heart. “You’re my lucky charm, kiddo,” you whispered, gently bouncing her, making her laugh even harder.

The attendant watched the moment with a knowing smile, and you felt a swell of gratitude for your little family. They might not be the most traditional, or the most perfect in the eyes of the world, but in that moment, with Ana’s laughter in your arms and Natasha waiting for you at home, you felt like the luckiest person in the world.

As you made your way through the store, your gaze kept drifting back to the jewelry display cases, and this time, something caught your eye that made your heart swell. It was a delicate bracelet, small and simple but undeniably beautiful. It wasn’t anything extravagant—just a tiny gold band with little charms, each one representing something small, something significant. You could already imagine Ana wearing it, her chubby little wrists looking even more precious with the bracelet adorning them.

You didn’t need a reason. You didn’t need to justify it to anyone. It was something you could do, and you were damn well going to do it. Ana might not understand it now, but one day, she would.

You turned to the attendant again, nodding towards the bracelet. “And that one too,” you said, a grin tugging at your lips. “Just because I can.”

The attendant smiled knowingly, clearly seeing the love you had for both Natasha and Ana. “Such a thoughtful gift,” she remarked as she carefully wrapped it up. “She’ll love it when she’s older.”

You couldn’t help but imagine Ana with it on, her little hands reaching out to hold Natasha’s as they walked together. You felt the excitement of giving her something so precious, something that would stay with her, a small piece of you, for years to come.

You glanced down at the bracelet in the attendant’s hands and then back to Ana in your arms, her giggles still filling the air. “Yeah,” you murmured under your breath, smiling softly, “she’s going to love it.”

As you made your way through the final steps of paying for everything, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you momentarily away from the dazzling jewelry collection laid out in front of you. You took it out, seeing Natasha’s name flashing across the screen. You couldn’t help but smile, the thought of her—your woman—always managing to sneak her way into your thoughts.

The message was short, but the familiar warmth of her tone was undeniable. She knew you well enough by now, and this little exchange was just another part of the dance between the two of you.

| My woman ❤️‍🩹 > You are taking too long, should I worry?

You typed a quick response, already anticipating her playful tone in your mind. You loved how she could always make you feel at ease, even through a simple message.

| Me > Just here spoiling my favorite—and only liked—baby. Maybe a little bit of myself too. Don't worry, I got something for you too :) 

You quickly hit send before slipping the phone back into your pocket, taking a deep breath and grinning to yourself. Natasha’s little text brought that familiar warmth to your chest. It was as if she were right there with you, even though you were standing in a Cartier store with your daughter on your hip, the weight of the situation suddenly feeling a bit more real.

You looked over at Ana, who was still babbling happily in your arms, oblivious to the significance of what was happening around her. But one day, she would understand. You smiled again, feeling that quiet sense of certainty deep in your heart.

Your phone buzzed again just as you finished collecting everything from the counter.

| My woman ❤️‍🩹 >  Just making sure. But seriously, hurry back, or I might come check on you myself, and you know how dangerous that could be 😉

The playful challenge in her text made you chuckle softly, already imagining the smirk on her face. You could feel the pull to get back to her, to settle into that space of comfort and love that had become so effortless between you. You sent a quick reply before turning to head out the door.

| Me:  I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry darling <3 

You pulled out your phone again, holding Ana in your hip while rolling though your phone this time with a mischievous grin as you typed a message to Clint. You knew you’d need some help pulling this off without Natasha catching on.

| Me: I’m about to propose to your bestie, can you do me a solid? Like, distract her for the next few hours, maybe until midnight?

You hit send, already picturing Clint’s reaction. Within seconds, the reply came.

| Male Katniss 🏹 > Damn, finally. You got it, kid. Don’t worry, I’ll make her suffer with me watching the Rockies. That should keep her occupied.

You smirked, feeling a little lighter with Clint’s usual sarcastic response. You could practically hear the eye-roll in his voice. But it was exactly what you needed. You sent back a quick “Thanks, Clint. I owe you one” before slipping the phone back into your pocket and heading to meet Natasha, excitement bubbling up in your chest, Ana was looking at you as if she knew what is about to happen tonight.a

You were getting one step closer to making it all real.

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

Robin’s double-triple-quadruple checking that Steve is okay—well, okay as he can be, gritting his teeth as Nancy wraps hastily made bandages around him—when she sees Eddie turn away out the corner of her eye.

She follows the movement unconsciously, but then she really looks, and at first she thinks it’s just this god-awful place draining the colour out of everything, but wow, he looks bad.

“Hey,” she says as brightly as she can, “you just checking out the scenery over here or…?”

Eddie shakes his head, and that immediately seems like a bad idea because his face gets even paler, which Robin didn’t even think was, like, possible.

“Just needed to—” he says faintly.

And that’s all he gets out before he weaves where he’s standing, and Robin reaches for him instinctively, grabs a hold of his hand; his palm is cold with sweat, and she suddenly finds herself thinking that the rumour going around a couple years ago, that Eddie passed out in the middle of a dissection in Biology, must have some truth in it.

“Okay, we’re okay!” she says quickly, and holds on as tight as she can. “We’re just gonna stand here and breathe.”

She says it a few more times, “We’re just gonna breathe,” and she’s got no idea if it’s the right thing to do or not, whether it’s just deeply annoying or making everything worse.

Eddie closes his eyes, and she worries about that initially, but the grip of his hand gets stronger, and he doesn’t sway again, and when he opens his eyes and looks at her, they’re clear and focused.

He squeezes her hand twice. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t let go, and he looks embarrassed about it, so Robin says that her sense of balance is so incredibly shit, and this is very helpful of him, thank you.

It works at least a little bit; he almost laughs. Then he swallows, and she can feel his urge to look back over despite himself. He stops the motion just in time.

“Is he—” His fingers twitch uneasily. “Is he okay?”

“Yes,” she says immediately.

She really hopes it doesn’t sound like she’s pacifying him. It’s just, she knows by now what to watch out for, she doesn’t even really need to be looking; an awareness of Steve in her periphery is enough.

She rushes to try and clarify, “Like, I know it seems like I was panicking with the rabies thing, I mean, I kinda was super panicking, but I got it all out my system, like I’m a worrier first and foremost, that’s my secret default emotion, you’re welcome, so when I say there’s nothing to worry about, obviously there are plenty of things to worry about, look where we are, but I promise nothing major currently in the Steve department, and I can tell you, like, instantly when that changes, it’s a sixth sense.”

Eddie blinks, looking slightly stunned. Shit, she forgets sometimes that it’s only really Steve who’s used to these monologues.

A big breath. “And I know it seems like I’m panicking because I’m rambling which—okay, that’s sometimes true, but in most cases—this one included, I swear!—me talking way too much just means I’m comfortable with whoever’s listening.” Eddie’s eyes widen. “So, um. Congratulations? Sorry? Take your pick. Does that, um, make sense?”

There’s a pause before Eddie replies—he’s probably still processing just how many words were thrown at him.

“I don’t think you talk too much,” he says in a taken aback kind of way. Then, “And yeah, sure, that makes sense. Just, uh, questioning your judgement.” A slight self-effacing smile. “I’m not typically the kinda guy folks are comfortable around.”

“Is it really so shocking?” Robin says, meaning it as a tease but—

“Yes,” Eddie says, and while he matches her tone, the word teeters between a joke and something vulnerable.

They both turn at a sudden grunt of exertion—Steve’s standing up, supporting himself with one hand leaning on the rock he’d fallen against. Nancy watches his movements with an anxious intensity; Robin follows her eyeline and notes with relief that the bleeding’s stopped.

“We can go to my house,” Nancy says like she’s trying to convince herself it’s a good idea. “There’ll—there must be some bandages or something just. Just in case.”

Steve lets go of the rock and stands up to his full height. It’s a deliberate show of reassurance, Robin thinks, as much for himself as it is for Nancy.

“Sure,” Steve says. “And guns too, right?”

Nancy’s startled into a laugh. For a second, the weight of concern leaves her face. “And guns,” she repeats.

Eddie catches Robin’s eye with an air of bewilderment. “Guns?” he mouths.

Robin nods.

Eddie looks, if possible, even more lost. Then his eyes slide away from Robin’s, and his expression changes; he starts to frown. At first Robin can’t tell what he’s noticed except that there can’t be any more blood, thank God, because he doesn’t look away. Then she sees it too as Steve takes a step forward with a nonchalant, “What are we waiting for? Let’s go,” like the determined normality of his voice can somehow hide the fact that he’s shivering.

Nancy bites her lip, looking like she’s come to the same unwelcome conclusion as Robin: that no matter what they say, it’ll just result in Steve arguing against it.

There’s a rustle off to the side. Robin glances over only in time to see a blur of denim; Steve catches it against his chest. Eddie’s vest.

“For your modesty, dude,” Eddie quips like it’s no big deal, but Robin can instantly sense the care he’s taken in how he’s said it, that he’s guessed intuitively about the kind of person Steve is: the kind who, when Robin once forgot her umbrella, shared his and made sure she was fully covered, despite him getting soaked in the process.

It’s like she can physically see the path that Eddie’s flippancy has opened up. This way Steve accepting the vest is just continuing the joke; he doesn’t need to admit that he actually needs it.

And it works. Steve expertly sidesteps around the vulnerability and shrugs on the vest, echoing Eddie’s levity right back at him.

“Oh, my modesty, sure. Well, in that case, don’t wanna offend you, dude.”

“You know me, propriety is my middle name.”

Steve laughs. He fiddles a little with one of the buttons on the vest then says lightly, as if an afterthought, “Didn’t know you cared.”

It still walks the line of a joke, but Robin can hear his sincerity, and from the look of surprise on Eddie’s face, so can he. And it’s not like Steve being genuine is a surprise to her, but—

The ground gives way beneath her feet; her stomach lurches as she loses her balance, and it’s only when she accidentally catches Eddie’s shoulder that she realises she’s not going to fall through an endless chasm, that the world is just shaking violently—still not a comforting prospect, but she’ll gladly take it over the alternative.

She barely has time to feel the relative relief before another shudder sends her straight to the ground; she’s too caught off guard to even protect her face with her hands. But her landing isn’t nearly as painful as it should be—as everything finally grows still, she finds the reason why: Eddie, who from the awkward twisted position of his legs looks like he was caught equally off guard, and yet he’s still managed to fling an arm around Robin, bracing to keep her from the worst of the impact.

“Did anyone touch the vines?” Nancy asks breathlessly.

Robin and Eddie shake their heads.

“Any, uh, particular reason why?” Eddie says in the tone of someone who’d really rather not find out.

“It’s a hive mind,” Steve and Nancy say simultaneously, in a very hive mind like way.

Robin hums the theme to The Twilight Zone; everyone laughs, some pressure finally released.

“So killer demon bats weren’t enough, we’ve gotta deal with booby traps too,” Eddie says.

Steve snorts. He glances childishly to Robin as if looking for approval; she rolls her eyes with an irrepressible smile. Seriously?

There’s a split second of disbelief before Eddie just grins in delight. “Real mature, Harrington.”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry, man,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “Just providing what Dustin would’ve done.”

They sober slightly at the reminder that their group’s been split.

“You think they’ve figured out that we’re…?” Eddie wiggles his fingers vaguely. He’s slower at getting to his feet than everyone else had been—he’s still hunched over slightly, rubbing at his knee.

“They will,” Nancy says with conviction.

“Don’t underestimate them,” Steve says mildly.

“Oh, I’m not, believe me. They’re kinda terrifying.”

“Terrifying?” Nancy echoes, laughing again, right as Steve says, “Exactly.”

As if in response to their laughter, there’s a distant growl punctuated with ominous clicking. Steve and Nancy both go rigid, and Robin thinks of the night after Starcourt, when Steve stayed over at her place because neither of them wanted to be alone; and he told her how everything started for him, his voice tripping over the words like he was reliving it all over again: running back to Jonathan Byers’ house, hearing the snarl of a monster.

“Yeah, I’m all for going to the Wheeler sanctum,” Eddie says weakly.

But he doesn’t move initially, so Steve and Nancy end up leading the way. Steve repeatedly sweeps the beam of his flashlight back and forth, making sure that the path is lit up for everyone, and Robin wonders whether he’s so focused on that that he hasn’t yet noticed—

“You’re hurt,” she tells Eddie softly. She’s up and looped her arm through his without thinking—which is kind of a big deal considering she nearly threw up with nerves when dancing with a boy at her middle school Snow Ball—and she realises that, for once, she forgot to be nervous about it.

“It’s not that bad,” Eddie says dismissively, but she can feel him leaning on her so it must be at least a little bit bad. “Hey, we kinda even each other out like this, huh? Your balance is pretty good, actually.” He pauses, then, “I’m okay, promise, just didn’t wanna…” He shrugs, nods towards Steve. “Gotta prioritise, y’know?”

Robin doesn’t push back on it for now, just slows her pace so Eddie isn’t jostled. “Thank you,” she says instead, lowering her voice. She nods toward Steve too. “For the…”

“Style improvement? Yeah, you’re welcome.”

This time Robin only lets him get away with belittling it for so long; it’s important, she thinks, that he knows.

“I mean it. He wouldn’t have taken it if you hadn’t—he’s…” She sighs. The greatest Tammy Thompson impersonator. Stupidly funny. Serious, when he has to be. Caring. Selfless. My best friend. “Stubborn.”

Eddie laughs under his breath. “Oh, and you’re not? What the hell was that back there?” He drops into a gently mocking impression of her voice, “I made that shit up.”

“I was just being honest!”

“Way to give me a heart attack.” She feels him squeeze the crook of her elbow. “Don’t do it again.”

And there’s that balancing act again, joking but not. Robin hears it for what it is. Don’t leave me alone. She squeezes back.

“I won’t.”

She expects Eddie to change the subject quickly. Instead he laughs—smaller, sadder. “Shit, sorry. You must think I’m—”

“No,” she says firmly. “I don’t.”

Eddie looks down like he’s just watching his step, nothing more. But his hold around Robin’s arm tightens again. He clears his throat.

“Thanks, Buckley.”

“Hey, Robin, Eddie,” Steve calls; Robin feels Eddie jump. “There’s vines up ahead, like…” He turns around and indicates where with the flashlight. Then he catches Robin’s eye, knits his eyebrows slightly. You okay?

She smiles in reassurance before subtly tilting her head towards Eddie, wrinkles her nose. 

Steve’s forehead relaxes. The tiniest nod. Yeah, I know. Got my eye on it.

Because of course he’d noticed the hurt knee despite Eddie’s attempt to hide it; Robin recalls now one of Steve’s rants about his time at school, how he’d often clock injuries during basketball games before the borderline neglectful coach.

And then she realises that Steve’s been walking backwards throughout their silent conversation, alternating between lighting the way for Nancy, and for her and Eddie.

She rolls her eyes, briefly draws a circle in the air with her finger. Now you’re just showing off.

Steve grins, waggles his eyebrows ridiculously. Oh, yeah? What’re you gonna do about it?

But he obligingly turns around, as Nancy gives him a sidelong, questioning look. He answers, too far away to hear, points behind him with his free hand like he’s explaining something. Then his hand goes to the vest, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly over the denim near the collar; Robin smiles.

“So, uh, how likely is it that I’m gonna get that back?” Eddie asks. He sounds amused, like he’s just noticed the same thing as Robin.

“Like, out of ten?” She pretends to think about it. “Two point five.”

Eddie snorts. “Wow, thanks.”

It’s a compliment, Eddie, she thinks, recalling the select few sweaters that Steve fiddles with in winter. He only does that with clothes he really loves.

“You’re not the first. He steals my sunglasses all the time.”

Eddie bursts out laughing. “Figures. He’d look good in anything, it’s so unfair.”

And it doesn’t sound serious; it’s said off the cuff, like it doesn’t have to mean anything. But Robin’s growing more certain that she can hear what’s hiding underneath—that, however hesitantly, she’s being tested.

“Yeah, but we’re not supposed to actually tell him that, he’ll never shut up about it.” As Eddie laughs, she elbows him gently, reaches across to tug at one of the zippers on his sleeve. “So are you providing a permanent service with your clothes? Cause I call dibs on your jacket.”

Eddie laughs again; the mix of disbelief and joy in the sound is familiar—Robin’s heard it come from herself not all that long ago. It takes a while to sink in, that friendship can be found so easily—an uncomplicated, earnest type of love once thought lost to kindergarten; it doesn’t have to hurt.

(“I didn’t need the truth serum to say it,” Robin had confessed during a terminally slow day at Family Video. “I think, deep down, I trusted you.”

“Oh,” Steve said softly and watched the rest of the movie they’d thrown on dewy-eyed.)

There’s a spring in Eddie’s step now despite the limp. He calls out like he’s on a summer hiking trail, “Are we there yet?”

Nancy chuckles. “No. Are you five?”

“Wheeler, I’m shocked that you’d repeat the baseless lies of the school faculty.”

Steve turns, his grin caught by the flashlight—and he looks younger suddenly, Robin thinks, like he’s in class, sneaking a look at someone in the seat behind.

“Wow, dude, I’m so sorry. Are you bored? I forgot to book the entertainment.”

“Did you, Steve?” Eddie asks, all innocence. “I thought you were the entertainment.”

And as they go back and forth, it’s as if the darkness of the woods can’t reach them anymore—as Steve starts a game of I spy, and Eddie encourages Nancy to come up with equally outlandish guesses, the two of them barely keeping their giggles under control, violets, vixen, velociraptor?

“Vines, you losers!” Steve says, still grinning, walking tall like he’s totally forgotten about his injury; and Eddie turns to Robin like that had been his aim all along, “Your turn, Buckley.”

Oh, you’ll fit right in, Robin says to herself before jumping into the game—as they all, at least for a little while, leave fear behind.

[cameronsbabydoll]

— GET TO KNOW MY !READERS ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

SPOILED!KOOK!READER

(the brat in kitten heels.)

she was raised by billionaire parents who bought her everything the second she so much as glanced at it. she’s never heard the word "no" unless it was followed by "—but we can find something better."

she still keeps all her old barbie and bratz dolls lined up perfectly on glass shelves in her pink childhood bedroom. sometimes she talks to them like they’re real friends.

her whole wardrobe is pink, glittery, sparkly — it’s literally an explosion of color. she has hot pink satin dresses, light pink fluffy coats, and bright pink purses with rhinestones.

her nails are always long, acrylic, and decked out in sparkles or little charms. she changes them every two weeks and throws a fit if her nail tech cancels.

very much “paris hilton meets summer roberts meets elle woods.”

she speaks in a very high-pitched, sweet voice — she’s super animated when she talks, always playing with her hair or clicking her acrylics together.

she loves tiny little purses that can’t actually hold anything useful. her bag essentials are lip gloss, mini perfume, emergency $100 bills, and her pink bedazzled phone.

she’s obsessed with luxury brands — new chanel bags, vintage juicy couture sets, louboutins, cartier bracelets stacked on her wrists like candy.

owns a tiny baby pink convertible with rhinestone-studded seat covers.

wears little kitten heels everywhere — brunch, shopping, even walking through the sand at a bonfire (and gets mad if anyone tells her it’s impractical.)

she’s extremely ditzy — she’ll ask the dumbest questions with 100% sincerity (“wait... is alaska a country?”) but she's also sneaky-smart when it comes to getting what she wants.

constantly says things like “i’m literally a princess” and “that’s hot” without a hint of irony.

thinks starbucks orders are a form of personality ("i’m a venti pink drink with extra vanilla sweet cream and extra ice!")

drinks fruity cocktails with names like "strawberry kiss" or "barbie breeze" — anything pink and filled with sugar.

always smells like a mix of bubblegum, vanilla, and expensive designer perfume (think baccarat rouge layered over body spray).

cries when she breaks a nail. screams when she sees a cute puppy. throws tantrums when things don't go her way but somehow makes it look cute.

rafe has to literally carry her sometimes because she’ll refuse to walk if her heels hurt. ("i’m not walking another step. carry me.")

she loves photo ops and making rafe take 500 pictures of her in front of a sunset, a yacht, a boutique, whatever. (he complains but always does it.)

lowkey is a daddy’s girl and drops "my daddy’s lawyer will sue you" at least once a week even though she’s never actually sued anyone.

dreams of marrying rich and being a stay-at-home wife with a teacup poodle in a designer bag.

if she ever argues with rafe, it’s always followed by her sulking dramatically on a satin bedspread in her tiny matching pj set until he buys her something to apologize.

calls rafe things like "my big scary bodyguard" and "my mean mean man" whenever he tries to put her in check (but she loves it.)

BABYDOLL!READER

(the crybaby in a pastel bow.)

she's soft. like really soft — her heart is big, her emotions even bigger. she cries when she sees puppies, when she hears an old love song, when rafe brushes her hair without being asked.

she’s very baby pink, powder blue, butter yellow — all her clothes look like easter eggs in the best way. her entire wardrobe is pastel vintage pieces, old babydoll dresses with tiny embroidered flowers, peter pan collars, ruffles, little gloves she finds at estate sales.

she collects trinkets like a magpie — porcelain figurines, pressed flowers, postcards from the 1950s, ticket stubs, little heart-shaped lockets she’ll never wear but keeps anyway. every shelf, every drawer in her room has something sentimental tucked inside.

when she talks about her favorite things, her whole face lights up — she glows when she tells rafe about finding a new 60s vinyl at the thrift store or a dress that reminds her of audrey hepburn.

she plays her vinyls constantly. her room is always filled with the crackly sound of lana del rey, nancy sinatra, or elvis. (if she's sad, it's exclusively sad lana songs while she cries into a satin pillow.)

she absolutely forces rafe to take her to this 50s-themed diner at least once a week. she’ll dress up in a pastel swing dress and saddle shoes just for the aesthetic, dragging him inside while he grumbles but secretly thinks she’s adorable.

she’s obsessed with old hollywood — posters of marilyn monroe and audrey hepburn cover her walls. framed black and white photos of james dean, frank sinatra, and john f kennedy are proudly displayed in her closet. (rafe gets a little jealous when she gushes over how "handsome" james dean was.)

her closet smells like vintage perfume — powdery, floral, a little bit like old lace and sweet soap. she still has her grandmother’s pearl necklace tucked inside a little velvet box.

she’s so sensitive it’s almost comical — rafe so much as raises his voice and she’s sniffling and looking at him with glassy eyes like he kicked her puppy.

she's a hopeless romantic. she dreams about slow dancing in the rain, kissing in a convertible at a drive-in movie, getting love letters sealed with a kiss.

she’s ditzy sometimes — she’ll burn cookies because she got distracted dancing around the kitchen, or she’ll forget where she put her purse because she set it down to pick flowers.

rafe ends up carrying her home from the diner more often than not because she insists on wearing tiny vintage heels that always give her blisters. she clutches his neck and cries about her "poor poor toes" while he rolls his eyes but kisses her forehead anyway.

she loves baking sweets — cupcakes, sugar cookies shaped like hearts, strawberry shortcake. she wears a little frilly apron and gets flour all over herself every single time.

she’s very clingy — she loves curling up against rafe’s side while they watch old movies, always playing with the buttons on his shirt or tracing patterns on his skin.

she says “i love you” way too much and way too easily. ("i love you," she says while holding up a pretty leaf she found. "i love you," she says when rafe opens a soda for her. "i love you," she says when he looks at her like she’s the only thing in the world.)

favorite outfit? a powder pink vintage babydoll dress with white lace socks and mary janes. a big pastel bow in her hair. always lip gloss.

favorite drink? a strawberry milkshake or a root beer float at the diner.

if she’s ever upset, the only cure is laying in bed wrapped in a dozen fluffy blankets, a black and white movie playing softly, and rafe feeding her bites of ice cream while she sniffles dramatically.

BUNNY!READER

(the soft, sweet crybaby who thinks the world is still made of fairy tales.)

bunny!reader is pure sugar and softness — like the inside of a strawberry cream candy. everything about her is gentle and soft-hearted, from the way she speaks to the way she hugs people (she clings for dear life like she thinks you might disappear).

she’s the kind of girl who gasps when she sees a butterfly and cries over commercials if they’re even remotely emotional.

she’s hopelessly gullible — if you told her the moon was made of marshmallows she would believe you and ask if she could try some. rafe constantly has to pull her away from scams ("no, bunny, you can't really buy a star and name it after me.")

she’s extremely clingy without realizing it — always grabbing onto rafe’s arm, slipping her hand into his back pocket, or snuggling up to his chest when they’re standing in line somewhere. if he moves an inch away, she's immediately following like a lost little bunny.

scent? always something sweet and light — strawberries, whipped cream, vanilla sugar.

she’s a candle hoarder — every corner of her room has some girly, pastel candle that smells like cupcakes or fresh laundry. (she lights them all at once and the room smells like a candy shop.)

she loves strawberry shortcake — the doll, the cartoon, the dessert. she has little stickers of strawberry shortcake characters on her phone case and folders.

she’s super sheltered — grew up under tight rules, very religious and innocent upbringing. she still wears a little cross necklace every day and goes to church every sunday without fail, carrying her tiny pastel bible with her name engraved in cursive on the cover.

fashion? lots of frilly white socks, pastel cardigans, soft baby pink skirts, lace-trimmed camisoles, mary janes, hair ribbons, little pearl earrings. she always looks like she stepped out of a 90s barbie dreamhouse ad.

she can't lie to save her life. if she even tries she turns red immediately, her voice goes all squeaky, and her eyes start watering because she feels guilty.

when she's upset she straight up sobs — giant watery eyes, trembling bottom lip, sniffles and hiccups, crying so hard she can't even get the words out. (rafe usually just scoops her up and shushes her, rubbing her back and letting her bury her face in his chest.)

she's obsessed with rom-coms — she thinks love should be exactly like the movies, complete with running through airports and standing outside windows with boomboxes. she genuinely believes every fight should end with dramatic declarations of love.

favorite things? baking cupcakes (and always licking the batter off the spoon), picking wildflowers, writing in her glittery pink diary, making little collages with stickers and magazine clippings, swinging on playground swings like a little kid.

bedroom aesthetic? stuffed animals everywhere (most with names), floral bedsheets, walls covered in polaroids, a basket full of bath bombs and lip glosses, a pink bible sitting neatly on her nightstand next to a strawberry-scented candle.

texting style? way too many exclamation marks, hearts everywhere, sends pictures of cute animals she finds on pinterest and captions them "us!!!!"

she genuinely thinks the best of everyone. like, painfully trusting. (rafe lowkey gets mad sometimes because she’s too nice to random people.)

she can be clueless in the cutest way — like not realizing when someone’s flirting with her or not understanding dirty jokes right away. ("wait... why is everyone laughing??")

she’s the type to ask rafe shyly if he thinks she’s “pretty enough” or “good enough” and when he teases her, she’ll get all teary-eyed thinking he means it seriously. (and then he feels terrible and kisses all over her face while she hiccups.)

she smells like strawberries, sugar cookies, and pink frosting.

BAMBI!READER

(the bookish sweetheart who smells like pumpkin candles and rain.)

she's the definition of cozy — her whole life is like an eternal fall afternoon. she drinks tea out of chipped mugs, wears oversized cardigans that swallow her whole, and leaves a trail of leaves wherever she goes.

gilmore girls is basically her personality. she quotes it without realizing, she always insists jess was the best option (she will give you an hour-long lecture about why rory messed up), and her dream is to live in a little house in a tiny town like stars hollow.

she loves her books more than most people. her bookshelf is overflowing — the bell jar (with notes scribbled all inside), crime and punishment, little women, wuthering heights, pride and prejudice.

she’s a total margin writer — hearts, underlines, little doodles and quotes she loves written in tiny handwriting. sometimes she writes "this made me think of you" next to passages and gives the book to rafe, blushing furiously the whole time. (he tries to read them... but usually falls asleep halfway and just listens to her explain them instead.)

she's obsessed with old bookstores. the smell of old paper and dust makes her giddy. she swears used books have more "soul." she’ll drag rafe along and spend hours picking through shelves, coming out with a stack of battered paperbacks and a starry-eyed smile.

she’s outdoorsy but not like sporty — more like picnic baskets, laying in fields, collecting wildflowers, saving earthworms off the sidewalk after it rains.

she has an entire tote bag dedicated to "book picnics" where she brings a blanket, her latest read, a notebook, and like three types of tea.

if she sees a stray cat or dog, it's over — she's crying and trying to coax it into her car with snacks. (rafe had to ban her from bringing home "every critter you find, bambi.")

she wears mary janes, loafers, pleated skirts, cozy sweaters layered over collared shirts. always with a messy bun, or her hair pinned back with little clips she picked up from thrift stores.

favorite activities? walking through trails when the leaves change color, baking pumpkin bread, annotating books late at night while a record spins in the background, yelling about fictional characters to rafe who pretends to listen but is really just admiring how cute she looks when she’s mad.

she’s a history nerd — if you get her started on ancient rome, world war ii, or victorian england, you’ll be there for hours. she thinks museums are romantic dates.

her dream gift is a rare edition of her favorite book. she would absolutely cry if rafe ever found her a first edition of anything.

she smells like cinnamon, vanilla, and fresh paper.

when she’s sad, she’ll wrap herself in three blankets, put on you've got mail or little women, and cry quietly while rereading her favorite comfort books.

her flirting is so accidental — she'll get all passionate about some character in a book and then realize she's been playing with rafe's sleeve or leaning too close into his space. (and rafe eats it up, pretending he doesn't notice but secretly loving it.)

she always thinks about little poetic things — like "this breeze feels like something from an emily dickinson poem" or "this sunset looks like the color of my favorite chapter in little women."

PUPPY!READER

(the bubbly, hyper little thing who just wants to be loved and played with all day.)

puppy!reader is all energy and excitement — always bouncing on the balls of her feet, twirling her hair around her finger, or playing with the sleeve of rafe’s hoodie because she just can’t sit still.

she’s so giggly — like, everything is funny to her. she’s the kind of girl who laughs so hard at her own jokes that she can’t even finish telling them.

she’s extremely affectionate — literal touch-starved puppy behavior. she clings to rafe's arm, wraps herself around him like a koala, nuzzles into his chest and makes tiny happy noises like she's purring when he plays with her hair.

she talks a lot, fast and breathless, sometimes changing subjects mid-sentence because her brain is moving a mile a minute. rafe just listens with a little smirk, letting her ramble about everything under the sun.

cat valentine coded — super sweet voice, a little high-pitched, always saying things that don't totally make sense ("rafe, do you think clouds get sad when it rains??")

she gets overwhelmed easily — too many people or too much noise makes her cling tighter to rafe’s shirt and go all wide-eyed, like a scared puppy at a firework show.

scent? cotton candy, lemon sugar, and those fruity body sprays you can only get from a tween store at the mall.

she loves snacks — always carrying gummy bears, lollipops, or little bags of chips in her purse like a kid at a sleepover.

she needs praise constantly — if rafe tells her she did a good job or that she looks pretty, she literally beams so hard it could light up the whole room.

crying style? full-on sniffles, watery eyes, little whimpering noises — and she hates when rafe sees her cry because she thinks it’ll make him mad. (he never is, he just scoops her up and rocks her gently until she calms down.)

she’s incredibly loyal — once she loves someone, that's it, forever and ever. she’ll defend rafe like a rabid little chihuahua if anyone dares talk bad about him.

texting style? voice memos (because she’s too excited to type), a million emojis (especially hearts and stars), dramatic “RAFFFFE BABY LOOK!!!” texts with random screenshots or memes she thinks are funny.

she pouts when she doesn’t get her way — big watery puppy eyes, bottom lip sticking out, tugging at the sleeve of rafe’s jacket until he caves in.

she’s a human golden retriever — ridiculously trusting, eager to please, always wagging her metaphorical tail.

she loves anything cozy — fuzzy socks, giant sweatshirts (especially stealing rafe’s), snuggling under huge piles of blankets and peeking out like a little creature.

she names everything — her plants, her car, her favorite lip gloss. she even named the stray cat she feeds every afternoon (even though it's technically not hers).

she’s the type to squeal and jump into rafe's arms the second she sees him, even if they were just apart for like, ten minutes.

naivety level? she genuinely believes rafe when he jokingly tells her she needs a license to eat cotton candy because it's “too powerful for civilians.”

she always smells like fresh laundry, cotton candy, and sunshine.

[deathordesire]

I've tried many times to ask people to please just look up factual information on accredited sites like " AP News, or NPR (National Public Radio, also has a radio/podcast) ; or at the very least ones that aren't controlled solely by the USA (listing a few helpful ideas to find better news sources below)--and they still refuse to do even that.

But anyway, it's just frankly purposely done because some people would rather remain ignorant and or whatever they think their "valid reason here" is than to do their own research and have to now change their beliefs and grapple with the fact that everything they learned is a lie.

And yeah, that's fucking scary. But I'd rather do that, than let innocent people go through what Palestinians and the people of the Congo and so many others are going thru. Id rather do that everyday!! than be ignorant and do nothing when there are others suffering such horrible things.

Reliable sources of info ideas:

- science journals, actual peer-reviewed papers and journals

- Palestinian journalists such as Bisan in Gaza, or Ukrainian news outlets ( sometimes it's easier to trust the news from that direct country or one of their people)

- non-profits are usually a better about reliable info, however please make sure to do your research on them and funding if able!

I hope this helps.

I so desperately want to be able to convince Trump supporters with facts and logic and empathy, but it’s so important to remember that their ignorance is INTENTIONAL. my mom didn’t let us watch Sleeping Beauty growing up. I asked her why recently and she said, “it was evil.” when I pointed out other movies had similar themes and depictions of evil, and asked what the difference was, she couldn’t. I pressed one more time and she just said, “it felt evil to me. I didn’t like it”. same thing with dune 2: she said it was “dark”, and I was, “literally, like the movie’s lighting? Or the themes?” and she said “I don’t know” and didn’t want to talk about it more. many conservatives genuinely cannot tell the difference between “I don’t like it” and “this is evil” and they do not care to learn despite many chances

[frannyzooey]

Joel Miller x f!reader

A sequel to Squirming

Rating: E, implied age/experience gap

A/N: Thank you to the beautiful enabler that is @intheorangebedroom ❤️ enjoy!

--

The hot water tank is small, but functional. 

You know this because he used to be a contractor, and he knows things like this. He surprises you sometimes, all deft hands and assessing eyes and facts, the edges of his words rounded with an accent. 

In truth, all the explanations in the world wouldn’t make you understand how it works or why it still does, but to be honest, you don’t care. All you care about is seizing the opportunity. 

“We could share it,” you offer, already climbing the stairs. 

The house is abandoned, just like the rest in the neighborhood. Dust coats everything, the floorboards creaking under your steps and you hear him sigh deeply behind you, his boots a heavy scuff on the worn wood as he follows you up. 

“I’ll go first,” he says at the top of the landing. 

Your eyes are already on the bathroom door, the reward of a shower beckoning. “You just want to get all the hot water.”

Resting his hands on his hips, he gives you a look. It’s meant to be stern, but just like always, all it does is cause a slide of arousal to pool in your belly. 

“I’ll be faster than you,” he reasons. “Then you can take as long as you want.”

“How chivalrous," you tease. 

He rolls his eyes with a scoff - his version of a laugh, but only just. You haven’t heard a full one, but it’s been a goal of yours since he let out that first rough huff of air with the corner of his lips turned up to make him laugh, for real. You’ve learned to tease with him, prodding the edges of his silence and restraint. You have to be the one to push forward, because he won’t – but gently, gently. 

He shakes his head in amusement, and for now, you’ll take what you can get. 

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, working open the buttons on his shirt as he turns away from you. 

His shoulders dappled with sunlight, his fingers working open his flannel on the bank of a creek. 

“Keep your back turned,” you hear from behind you. “No peekin’.”

He undresses in the bathroom, behind a cracked door. You hear the shuffle of his clothing, his soft grunts of movement. The pipes groan, and then the sound of water splashing along ceramic, and all you can think about as you sit on the edge of the bed with your hands under your thighs and the toes of your sneakers lightly scuffing the floor is what he must look like. 

You’ve imagined it so many times. You’ve seen glimpses of him for months, slivers of skin that get exposed when you’re traveling with someone: sleeping in close quarters for weeks, bathing when you find water, the changing of clothes with furtive glances when he’s not looking. The vee of his collar that hints at chest hair; the only softness you think is left on him just above the waist of his jeans; a trail of coarse, dark hair that leads beneath his belt. 

You’ve felt him too. Felt his solid form behind you in the saddle, felt his lap tucked behind yours when you sleep. Pieces of what you’ve seen and what you’ve felt swirl together, your mind filling in the blanks to form formidable temptation that haunts your every waking moment, your body a live wire when he’s close. 

Shameless - it’s what you have to be in this new world. Any hesitation could risk a missed opportunity, be it comfort or supplies or your life. You have to be bold, direct. Blatant in what you want and what you need. Opportunities aren’t given freely, so you take them when offered, without a second thought.

The bare expanse of his back just above the surface of the creek, his skin glistening with water. Too busy washing to catch you peeking, he doesn’t see the blatant hunger on your face. There is so much of him on display: the tanned nape of his neck, the breadth of his shoulders, the dip of his spine. 

Hiding behind the bushes, your heart thunders and your mouth waters, imagining the salt-taste of his skin. 

Water splashes down the hall as he moves under the shower, and your opportunity dangles in front of you in the image of a slice of light from a doorway.  

Fuck it. 

Getting undressed quickly, you sneak light-footed down the hall, gently pushing the bathroom door open. You can see the shadow of him moving beyond the curtain, an aching throb beating between your thighs at how close his naked body is. 

The room is enveloped in steam, the rich, decadent smell going straight to your head and the metal rings on the shower curtain drag when you pull it back. 

You’re met with a wall of tanned hardness. 

“What’re you doin’?” His tone is stern with disapproval, his expression dark. 

He’s so…much. So much man, so handsome and thick-bodied, solid and formidable. Your eyes devour the coarse hair that gathers at his sternum and spreads across his chest and down. His skin is marred and nicked with survival and age, and there is something so arousing about the experience his body holds — the years he’s lived, the formation from teen to young adult to a man and beyond. 

You bite your lip, thinking of the bodies he’s touched and brought to completion. A man who knows how to use his fingers for more than just pulling triggers – and you know, because you’ve felt them.

He rests his hand over his crotch to hide it from your view, but you can still see the thick base of his cock and the coarse, dark, wet hair that surrounds it. His hold isn’t quite big enough to cover it everything, and you swallow hard, trying not to immediately reach for him. 

Steady, steady.

“You were taking too long,” you lie, ignoring the look on his face when you step in, lest you lose all nerve. Turning your back to him, you feign nonchalance. “I got worried the water would run out.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you can feel the heavy weight of his gaze between your shoulder blades. 

He sighs, the sound laced with annoyance. “Could’ve waited.”

“Well I didn’t. Pass me the soap?” You keep your back to him, waiting to see what he’ll do. Your voice casual, your face openly vulnerable. 

“You can get it yourself. I’m gettin’ out.”

Your stomach bottoms out, both with panic and neglected need. You feel him shift behind you, and you turn, reaching for his hand just as he grabs hold of the curtain. 

“Don’t,” you plead. “Please.”

Please. 

You’ve never heard him say the word, but you’ve said it plenty enough for the both of you. Your need for him is all encompassing, never relenting. A steady hot weight cradled between your hips, a constant throb of want that he tries his best to discourage. He’s slipped a few times and given into your begging with a hungry press of his mouth before he’s pulled back, or given you the stretch of his fingers if you’re really desperate, but this is the furthest you’ve ever toed the line. 

You always say it so helplessly too, please. Like you’ll die if he doesn’t help you. But you can’t help it because sometimes it feels like you will. You’ve found that the sound of it seems to be the only thing that breaks him, the only thing that gives you a glimpse at what’s underneath his calcified restraint. 

Afraid that he’ll say no and really mean it this time, you watch his initial look of disapproval slowly give way to something else. 

He looks at you for a long time. Assessing, considering. You expect his eyes to sweep down your naked body and back up again, but they stay fixed on yours, holding your gaze. His face is unreadable, your stomach alight with nerves. The air smells of damp warmth, of him, and a muscle in his jaw feathers. You brace yourself for embarrassment, but desperate arousal overrides it. Your body trembles with it, a pulse beating in the empty space inside you. 

You watch a stream of water follow a vein down his forearm to where he’s holding himself and biting back a moan, you press your thighs together. 

With a sigh, he relents. 

“Turn around.”

You obey immediately. 

Holding your breath, your body twists with anticipation when you feel him step closer. He crowds you in the small stall, his form exuding heat and though he blocks some of the water, the heat held in your own skin makes up for it. He moves behind you, his hulking form shadowing your own. 

When his soaped up hands touch your skin, you let out a whimper of relief. 

Relaxing into his firm hold, you melt into the way his calloused hands slide over your back. His hand slides up your spine to massage the nape of your neck, the other one sliding down around the curve of your hip, and your chin dips forward, letting him wash you. His thumb digs into the knots he finds, soap aiding in the glide of his touch. When his fingers knead just along the swell of your ass, you swallow a choked moan. 

“Relax,” he murmurs, the honeyed caress of his voice deeper in the small space, richer. 

You’re a trembling thing, all want and need, breathless and aching with every touch of his splayed hands. They map the sides of your torso, slide down to curl around the meat of your hips. He lathers more soap on his hands and kneels behind you, his hands splaying wide to wash the back of your thighs and the thought of his face so close to where you need him has your hips squirming, the phantom scrape of his scruff dragging against your skin. 

You’re not ready when his hand slides up between your thighs with a perfunctory motion, his fingers brushing over your cunt. 

He washes you there, his fingers slipping into the crease of your thighs with reverence, rubbing soap into the dark hair that covers your cunt. Your breath catches, your hips jolting back before you can stop them into his touch, but if he notices, he doesn’t act. Instead, he pulls his hand away to stand, reaches for the soap again and with one hand gripping your hip, he slides the flat of his hand through your cheeks. Your cheeks heat, but all thoughts of shame dissipate into the steam when his fingers brush against your entrance, digging into the needy space between your thighs. A whimper pours from your mouth, the weight between your hips hot and heavy. It’s too much, you need him too much and your hand reaches out to braces on the wall in front of you. 

“C’mere,” he soothes, pulling you back against him. “I got you.”

Every wet inch of him presses against your back. He molds himself to you: his solid chest, his soft belly, his strong thighs, dusted with hair. His hips, pressing into the plump curve of your ass and his cock is a solid, thick heft between you. You can feel the shape of it against your lower back, but before you can fixate on it, you feel his hands slide around the curve of your waist. Letting your chin drop with a trembling breath, you watch them. 

Large, the two of them covering your whole belly. Nicked and marred, tanned from the sun, and sure in their movement as they slide up, up, up. He cups the weight of your breasts and your knees buckle, your fingers digging into his wrist as an anchor. 

His soaped thumbs brush over your peaked nipples, tight and aching. A soft, breathless moan pours from your throat into the steam surrounding you. Your head tips back into his collarbone, and one of his hands slides up to curl around the base of your throat, while the other one slips down to cup you firmly, wholly between your legs. 

You let out a whine, trapped in place, your heart thundering in your chest. 

“Just this, okay?” he says, his own breathing ragged against your ear. “Nothin’ more. I mean it.”

You don’t know how he can say that when you can feel how hard he is against you, but desperate with arousal, you nod. “Okay. Just – please.”

He hums, a darkly rich sound that rumbles against your back and his middle finger curls upwards, slipping between your soaked folds. The moan you let out is shameless, blatant, and he slides his touch back and forth, collecting the slick he finds there. 

“Christ, baby,” he groans, adding another finger. “She’s soaked. How come?” 

“It’s you,” the words tumbling out of your mouth, soaked and slurred with want. “It’s you.”

He hums again. “S’that right?”

His fingers slip inside you, filling you with a stretch and his thumb starts to circle your clit, your body trying to curl forward into his hold but his hand on your throat prevents you from moving. You squirm against his cock, the thick crown of it brushing against your wet skin, his heavy balls pressing just under your ass, the drag of his coarse hair sliding between you and you shift your hips backwards to feel more of the solid heft you’ve been dreaming about — but the subtle squeeze at your throat tells you to stop. 

“Ain’t about that,” he scolds. “Just stay still and lemme take care of you.”

But you want it to be about that, this thing he won’t give you. This thing he won’t even let you see, even though you’ve felt it plenty. In the saddle, in the sleeping bag, pressed against your body when you feign sleep. 

“It’ll help,” you whine, babbling, your body vibrating with need. “It’ll help if you let me just let me touch it, just let me see it —“

“No.” His answer is firm, brooking no room for argument. A small sob pours from your throat, and he clucks his tongue in sympathy, his tone softening. “I know, babygirl, I know.” 

His thumb nudges your chin up until your head is tipped back to see him and as he tucks his thick fingers inside you, his dark eyes greedily take in your face, drinking in every minute reaction that plays across it. As if he’s just as hungry to see that as he is to do everything else.

He strokes, his fingers stuffed down to his scarred knuckles, and the combination of the full feeling paired with the endearment has tears watering at the edge of eyes. His thumb adds pressure to your clit, and your thighs tense, a tear sliding down the curve of your cheek. 

Maybe it’s how good it feels, or how long you’ve been waiting for it. Maybe it’s how badly you need to come and how good he feels against you, or maybe it’s a blend of everything, born of desperation. The bright release he’s coaxing out of you teeters on the edge, your cunt clenching desperately around his fingers and you grasp anything you can as he plays with you: the thick muscle of his forearm, the solidness of his thigh. 

His skin slides against yours, all firm and heat and man, the muscles along his torso bunching underneath the hair that covers his skin all the way down to where he is thick and heavy for you, grinding against the plush curve of your ass. His wrist works higher, and you put your foot up on the edge of the tub to give him more room and he takes it, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. Your hips rock into his rough touch, desperate to come and he keeps his hooded eyes fixed on yours, hungrily devouring every plea pouring from your eyes. 

“Come on, darlin’,” he coaxes, the words rumbling from his chest. “Lemme see it.”

The moan that pours out of your throat when you come sounds almost shocked — like you had no idea it could be this good, or that you could come that hard. His fingers coax out everything you’ve been holding inside you down to your bones, a syrupy sticky weight flooding through your hips outwards. Your breasts tingle with it, your heart racing from it, and though your eyes slip shut with drowsy relief, he doesn’t stop. 

Growling low in your ear, you feel his mouth open to taste your skin, his heavy, strained breaths following the same pulse as your clit. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t let your body come down. You let out a soft whine, clawing at his hand and he doesn’t budge, instead using the calloused pads of his fingers to circle your clit, faster, harder, pulling another peak from you expertly, efficiently. 

Just as the first one ebbs, you start to crest into a second release, your hips locking under his touch, your stomach clenching while your moans echoes in the stall. 

“No, I can’t. I –”

“You can,” he growls, demanding it. 

You shake your head with a frown of pleading pleasure, and he doubles down. 

“You wanted it, didn’t you? Bad enough to come in here?”

You whine, your nipples tightening as shame and arousal flood your body with heat.

“Then let me tire you out. Let me give her what she needs.”

His hand spreads over your belly, big and wide, pinning you in place, a tremor of muscles underneath his hold. He hauls you against him until the tips of your toes balance on the tub floor, and his chest hair scrapes against your back and he cups your cunt with his whole hand and then he’s got you, he’s got you, he’s got you, your eyes clenched shut as everything inside you pulls up tight and aching and wet — 

“Joel!” 

His name breaks from your throat, an aching throb bursting underneath the skill of his touch.

“Christ.” The guttural sound rips from his throat, rough like gravel. 

His hips grind into you from behind, the soapy slide of his thick cock dragging along the cleft of your ass. Every rock forward has the crown pushing against the small of your back, every roll of his hips forcing the stiff heft to slide against you with a slippery slide. You want him to force a hand between your bodies and push himself down, you need him to notch his thick cock at your entrance and force you to bloom open around him. 

He won’t though. You know he won’t let himself go that far. 

Your hands wind around his neck, your fingers threading into his wet hair. You arch your back, pressing your ass tighter against him, testing the edges of his restraint. 

His deep groan reverberates through the stall and wrapping his large hands around your waist, he forces you tighter against him. The way he’s fucking your cheeks flickers and sparks need, blood rushing to your cunt, your body wrung out yet still hungry for him. 

“Just put it in,” you beg. “Please, put it in.”

“Goddamnit.” 

Groaning as if in pain, his white-knuckled grip tightens on your hips and you feel the first hot spurt of his come splash on your back. Another rope of it hits your skin, his cock a hot pulse between your cheeks, and he keeps grinding against you, the slip of his cum aiding in the slide of his cock. It smears on your back, slips down to collect between your bodies, sticky and thick, and as he works the last dregs out, you wonder if he’d let you taste any of it. 

Your mouth waters, your body still a wanting little throb even after everything he drew out of you. Always hungry, just for him. 

The sound of the shower slowly comes back to you, and when he steps away, you shiver from the cold. 

“Here,” he guides, switching places with you. 

Hot water pours over your skin, and he lets you rest drowsily against him as he picks up the bar of soap again. Turning to face him for the first time, you nuzzle the hair that dusts his chest, breathing him in. You hang onto his sides, onto the skin that’s been hidden from you for months now. Solid and firm and warm and wet under your touch and your fingers skim the muscles over his ribs. When your chin dips south to finally get a peek at what you’ve been imagining, his fingers nudge your face back up. 

“Hey now,” he murmurs. ”Eyes up here. Right on me, okay?”

You can feel him resting against your thigh. Still thick, still half hard, still out of reach and you wonder if he’ll ever let you see it, just like that full laugh that you’re waiting for. 

One day.

[fishnapple]

Positive changes coming into your life

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

LAPIS LAZULI

The theme is balance, your life will be much more balanced in terms of material comfort, resting and working, dream and reality. Balance means that you will learn how to adjust various areas in your life to fit each other. You will slowly understand the "rhythm" of your life, when you need to rest, when you need to focus, when you need to give, when you need to ask for what you want. During this process, you will come to get to know more about both your physical body and your spirit, giving them both equal care.

You will gain more independence, feeling like you have more control of your life than you previously thought. It might come from the stability of your surroundings, you gain more financial independence, or you will gain a new insight that helps you feel more contented with what you have, rather than seeking more and more and never feeling enough. One thing I notice is that you will focus solely on doing what's good for your growth, your decisions will be based on your gut feelings and your introspection. You will no longer feel the pull to compare yourself with others, as you follow your own heart and not be distracted by everyone around you. This period will be a tremendous growth for you.

Life will treat you fairly for your effort. Problems won't go away all at once, but you're capable of tackling them one by one. Your emotions will run high, sometimes you will feel like you're being swept along by the current of your emotions. But you will not let yourself drown in them, instead, you will surf along with them, make them into your greatest inspiration and motivation. Your mantra will be "I got this". Your inner strength will manifest outwardly. You will shed old unhealthy habits and look after your physical vessel more, being more active and flexible. A healthy heart and a healthy body will be accompanied by a fresh mind, one that can conjure up magic out of the most mundane thing.

ROSE QUARTZ

Spring is here, after a long bitter winter. A joyful time ahead. You will feel like waking up from a long slumber, sleepiness will still follow initially, life will still feel groggy, but not for long. The cold winter will finally go away, new spirit will fill your heart, and along with it, your whole body. Your steps will feel lighter, smiles will grace your face more frequently. If you've been feeling down, lost or disappointed lately, you will soon see the light peaking through new leaves. 

Your life will be much "softer". You don't need to force anything or try too hard to achieve something. You learn to feel at ease, to let yourself rest more and dream more. You don't have to walk briskly with purpose or run towards a goal, you can stroll along the streets more leisurely. Not that everything will suddenly become better or solve itself, but your attitude will change, and that's enough to make some previous problems dissipate.

If you're struggling with feeling confident and worry a lot about security, you're going to gain a new confidence boost. Maybe you will meet someone new or stumble upon a new knowledge that encourages you to take a step forward, to dare to dream bigger, be more daring. I see new acquaintances, people who are much different from you but can lift you up greatly. 

If before, pursuing what or whom you desired might seem out of reach with too many obstacles then now, you won't see those obstacles as anything of consequence anymore. You're willing to give it a try, no matter the result. And you will be rewarded for that attitude. The act of going after your dreams is exhilarating. You perceive it as a fun challenge, an experiment that you can enjoy and go at your own pace. Your energy feels both fast and languid. No frantic move, just a little bit of faith in luck and a heavy dose of romanticising that will expand your connections with the world and its people.

CARNELIAN

The theme of mental clarity will be prevalent in the upcoming period of your life. Confusion and misunderstanding will be solved quickly, or if they still linger from the past then you will gain a new understanding of them and be able to move on or find closure. You will likely gain decisive information from people around you, especially those who are close to you that will help you make decisions more easily. Prepare to speak the truth and hear the truth, no matter how unpleasant or unexpected it is. You will be more receptive to it, even when it's harsh or feel criticising, you will no longer react with hurt or too much sensitivity, because you can be detached enough to not let things go into your heart too deeply. It doesn't mean that you will be cold, on the contrary, you will be more compassionate and humble, that's the quiet power you will gain.

Unexpected events might happen around you that can alter the way you perceive the world. They might not even be related to you, you might just hear them from your friends or acquaintances, but they will open a new way of thinking for you. It's like waking up from a long slumber, you're jolted out of the sleepiness and wide awake, with a clearer mind. Don't be too alarmed if you have some arguments or debates with people, they will be great opportunities for you to sharpen your mind and exercise objective judgement. People might remark that you seem much more lively, much more assertive than before. It's just the beginning, you're slowly waking up to yourself, prioritising the vitality and jollity of your life.

TIGER'S EYE

I see fluid movements, gentle and expanding, like a person dancing. The energy inside your heart will uncoil itself and spread out gracefully. A more gentle melody will be playing for you.

This upcoming period of your life will be much more simple and straightforward. You won't concern yourself with complicated matters, heartaches or imminent catastrophes. Your focus will be on finding peace, be in it and keep enjoying life as much as possible. The energy is very soft and playful. And that's how you will overcome any hardships lurking around. 

What might have plagued your mind recently won't be so as you adopt a more carefree and spontaneous attitude. You know that nothing lasts forever, so you enjoy every moment yet also don't hold on tightly to any. The heavy burdens will be lifted from your shoulders. You need this very much. Not everything has to be about being good, being proficient, being orderly, being responsible. You will still hold yourself highly with maturity, but you don't let life's obstacles put a hiccup in the great melody that you're playing. Social life and enjoyment of beauty will be a great focus of yours. Pleasant new connections will be formed, old connections will be strengthened. 

You will find fulfilment in everyday activities. Giving and receiving will be very satisfying. You give and you will be given back in return. You will see the flow of life, the cycle of if and you will go along with it, not against it. You're active but in a quiet and accepting way. You don't need to be constantly moving, constantly striving. You let yourself rest and still, so that the working of nature can work its magic for you.

CITRINE

If you've been busy lately, having lots of things and people to take care of, or you've been feeling depleted lately, lacking the time and energy to have fun and pamper yourself, then it's about to change. You will have time to retreat into yourself, stay away from the draining influences around you for a while and have time to recenter yourself. You've been working hard, it's time to tuck yourself in cosily, have a rejuvenating rest and allow yourself to rest, to feel good. 

Life will slow down for you, not the kind of no-progress slowing down, but the kind that lets you catch your breath. The fight is over, you don't need to exert yourself all the time. Now it's time to heed the call of your heart, pull away the worries and let your energy flow into where you're called to. I see a time of discovery, of opening a new perspective. You're about to get your mind opened wide and let in many new wonders.

If you're pulled to spirituality and the occult, trust that the more you dig deeper, the more free you will feel, the more clear the road is for you. You will get intuitive messages about where to go, what to do, those messages will likely come from the sensations of your body, the involuntary reactions, like a jump of excitement, heart beating fast full of anticipation. You might wonder why you feel a strange sensation out of nowhere, or called to try out new tastes, new scents, new activities. Don't hesitate, grab hold of that sensation and honor it, you might never know what promising future it could lead you to.

AVENTURINE

You will be blessed with wise insights that allow you to move forward cautiously and strategically. You might have the tendency to act from the place of fear, defending yourself against invisible threats that endanger your stability. This survivor mentality can't protect you from harm all the time. There will be times when you have to step outside of your comfort zone and be bold and adventure forth with blind eyes. But the good news is your heart won't be blind and so is your mind. 

In the incoming period of time, you might have to face some untrustworthy words and actions that raise your doubt about the trust you placed on people. But your discernment will be wide awake during this time. This is the time of illusions shattering. You will hear clearly, see clearly and make your decisions based on facts and concrete proofs. Glibness won't be able to hide the truth from you. You stand firm in your stance and trust yourself more than ever. Your words hold wisdom and faith. You will be able to chase away trickery with humour and prudence. 

In turn, you will be rewarded with pleasant surprises. More fun adventures await you at the most unexpected times. Your light will finally have the space to shine. Don't hesitate at breaking away from old habits. You know deep within that your heart has already set its sight on a farther horizon. 

[trekbec82]

It's fine to be frustrated that your parents and formal education neglected to tell you something vitally important that everyone should know by the time they're an adult. The unfortunate truth is that sometimes people just don't realise it's a thing they need to teach.

Having said that, you can't expect to have learnt everything at school, and not just because there isn't time. No matter how thorough your education, there are so many things which have changed since you graduated.

When my parents were at school Australia used the Imperial system of measurements, God Save the Queen was the national anthem, and nobody had yet walked on the moon. By the time it was my turn Australia was fully metric, Advance Australia Fair had become the anthem, and the Sojourner Rover landed on Mars when I was in high school.

When I started primary school in the late 80s, the USSR still existed, Germany was still divided, and Myanmar was known as Burma. By the time I got to high school literally none of that was still true.

My entire schooling, Pluto was considered a planet. Though my heart feels it still is, my head accepts the reasons why it's now scientifically considered a dwarf planet.

It's not all that long ago that petrol included lead, house insulation included asbestos, aerosols contained CFCs, smoking cigarettes was legal almost everywhere, and nobody had a mobile phone or the internet - separately or combined.

You cannot expect to have learnt everything at school, because the world around us is constantly changing, new things are constantly being discovered and developed, and new details about old things are still being uncovered.

Embrace the opportunity to continue learning, and be grateful that we live in a time when so much information is available at our fingertips. It's cool to learn something new every day!

“I don’t learn this in school :(“

Hey here’s a question what steps have you taken to increase your education and knowledge since graduating?

[1nthedarknessofthenight]

﴾ lunaris

pairing: werewolf!changbin x f!reader

genre: one-shot, supernatural au, smut

word count: 12,4K

warnings: dom!changbin & sub!reader ⋆ stalking! ⋆ obsessive behavior ⋆ possessiveness ⋆ manipulation ⋆ manhandling! ⋆ size kink! ⋆ small!dry humping ⋆ breading kink! ⋆ knotting! ⋆ monster cock! (yup) ⋆ biting! ⋆ marking ⋆ overstimulation ⋆ squirting! ⋆ fingering (f.receiving) ⋆ mating press!position ⋆ unprotected!sex ⋆ creampie!

summary: you are not alone — from the moment you decided to live in the small house at the edge of a lake, a dark, looming phantom, seemed to follow you wherever you go and you cannot do anything other than to wait and see, what it wants from you…

main masterlist

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Realization. It came over you suddenly, in the middle of the day — sharp and bright. There was this feeling, following you everywhere, finding you in every corner of your new home. You had ignored as best you could, but those invisible pairs of eyes made every hair on your body stand. At first you thought it was just your mind playing thick’s on you. A new place, a new era of your life had begun the moment you settled into this house…all alone. Only with your own thoughts — or so you believed. Until those things, gifts started appearing on your doorstep.

You can still remember the first day you, when moved into your new home — a cabin, surrounded with nothing, but threes and the wilderness. You contemplated if you wanted to take the risk of buying this suspiciously beautiful house in the middle of nothingness, considering that you are a young woman and would be all alone in such dangerous era. However the childhood dream of owning such a home in your adulteress won over any gut feeling in you. The only thing that calmed you a little was the lake surrounding you, but the almost sinister feeling of the forest stretching behind your house, still gives you goosebumps.

It is just, because you were alone, nothing more — just the instinct of being alerted at all times, as you can never know what might be lurking for you outside. You so hoped that this instinct wouldn’t just be an intuition in disguise…

The first few months were taking a toll on you. This seemingly small cabin was in reality too big for just you, making you spend a lot of time at making it seem smaller by buying useless things to fill in the open spaces of your home. The heat of the nearing summer left you almost suffocating, deciding to not leave your window open even a creak, leaving you spending a dozens of restless nights. You can’t lie that you didn’t think you maybe made a mistake, but the more time you spend outside on the small pier on the lake, the more it helped you get use to this new place.

You sometimes do miss the noises of the city — the cars honking, crowds of people loudly talking, but at the end of the day your mind would always seem to wander off, dreaming of something quieter. Life brings you something new in the change of the old and even if it firstly hurts or doesn’t feel right, it will all come together at the end. You do think a lot, or atleast since the time you moved, it was just you now. It helped you grow in some way, over come your fears, but you just couldn’t ignore it anymore. The first couple of times it happened were subtle, but the small hints told you that you are not as alone as you thought your were.

You still remember it, like it was yesterday, the first night you spend in your new home — staring at the clock on your nightstand and counting every minute. Time went by so slow compared to what you now can call your past and you so tried to ignore the window facing you. No curtains put, letting you see and hear the slightly swinging trees of the forest and wind softly whistling outside. Since then you have become so highly aware of everything. Your senses had hightened, it was like you could hear everything around you, see the unimaginable or was it just paranoia? Was the sense of something watching you just your own mind playing tricks on you?

That answer circled your mind every night and every day you spent outside. The first thing that happened that left you freezing in your spot was, when you were at your work. As your teeth hit the metal utensil, staring out the window to the starting rain, you suddenly remembered about your clothes that have been left outside to dry, only realizing that after your hard day of work you will have to do it all over again. However that didn’t happen…When you came home, water still falling from the sky, you quite not in some much hurry came to pick up your propably, completely soiled clothes. Shoes digging in the mud, you stood there in the rain for a moment, eyes strained to the clothesline only to find it empty. Your exhausted self thought that maybe the wind maybe swept it away, in frustration rushing up to the small steps leading to your home to atleast put your things away, before going on a search, only for you to stop dead in your tracks.

Something in that moment — the sudden rush of warmth going over you, made you shake. Somehow your clothes have been put neatly on to the front porch swing and even in the dark you couldn’t see a single wrinkle in sight. You knew that it should have been the first sign that something was here with you, but you chose to ignore it, even if your hands shook, when you pick up your clothes, before rushing inside. You can’t lie that you didn’t sleep that night, you can’t lie that this small thing scared you. But was it? You are certain that it wasn’t yourself, but what would you even say if you told someone? Someone came to my house to pick your laundry so it wouldn’t get ruined from the rain? It was somehow a kind gesture, but it also made shivers go down your spine. Maybe you were blind, maybe someone was living somewhere near you — neighbor perhaps, whom you still had the chance to meet.

It was this…something so subtle, till it wasn’t. You could feel it creeping up on you. What exactly? You are not so sure, maybe your situation and these small things that kept on on adding up, made you a little too paranoid. Every small creak of your wooden home or even the sound of the trees bending against the wind — everything that happened made you so highly aware, however you weren’t quick enough to catch it. The problem is that you didn’t even know what you were searching for. It could be anything and nothing at the same time, but you swear it had to be something…

When summer came, so did its heat. Sweat making your skin slick and hot to the touch. You hadn’t been so happy to have a lake outside of your home until now. You were aware that maybe swimming in said water wasn’t the safest, but it didn’t make you not atleast dip your feet in it. The change of temperature made you shiver, sighing softly as you closed your eyes. The sounds around you for once were peaceful, basking in the singing of birds and the soft air blowing across your heated skin. With your back layed on the pier, eyes closed, you almost slipped into unconsciousness, but then you hear a sound that cut into the blissful rhythm of your relaxing.

Your eyes opened then, staring up in the sky through your sun glasses, your ears almost twitching, when you heard leaves rustling. You didn’t move, didn’t even want to look, in fear it would ruin your sweet and quiet moment. You could tell it came from the shore, a little distance from your layed out body and you did almost let it fly over your head, when your eyes flutter. However, just when your eyes closed slightly, looking down the length of your body, you saw a shadow moving in the distance. The sight made you jump, blinking rapidly, though now it was gone and the only thing left was the sound of something hitting the surface of the water.

You didn’t wait even a second there, not so curious to even look back, pulling your legs out of the water like you were scared that it had already reached you. You ran back to your house with your heart racing, ears still ringing and at that moment the thought of it being an animal all along became the most logical thing.

However there was this one night that you can’t seem to get out of your head — it felt you so frightened and so confused that you believed it must be something out of this world, something that doesn’t have an easy explanation. You had already been ready to fall asleep before it happened. Eyes blinking slowly, tearing up a little from the light of your open laptop, voices of the actors becoming meer whisper as you fight the argue to fall asleep. You didn’t know at that time, why exactly you didn’t let yourself, it was like your own body already knew to rather stay on high alert.

A loud explosion coming from the movie playing on the small screen made you jump wildly, your already almost empty snack falling down your bed. Your body jerking, you already turn to your side to picked up, eyes trailing over the room to search, but your stare stops right on the other. Cold sweat pricks on your body, stilling in fear that makes its way up your throat till it choked out every last breath left in you. You don’t blink — can’t and you thought that if you would it would disappear. Glaring back at you, right outside your bedroom window were sets of glowing eyes, black mass of a silhouette. Of what? You couldn’t make out, but it made you gasp sharply.

The sound you made, which shouldn’t have been heard given to your movie playing in the background and the thick wooden walls of your home, alerted the thing staring at you, like it was till now completely unaware of your frightened gaze. With a blink of an eye you saw it disappear behind your window, but you didn’t miss the loud steps that it took, heavy and fast. Something possessed you there, maybe your own idiocy, because you rushed to your window to open it, lips parting to call out to it. You wanted to know it was real, not just your imagination or a demon haunting you, but only crickets and the soft sounds of outside were heard. Goosebumps appeared on your skin and not so much from the cold air of the outside, as your stare trailed all over the trees, searching. You didn’t even hear those heavy footsteps in the distance, head lowering in defeat and exhaustion only to come across smeared dirt right under your window. You couldn’t make out the stops left behind — human or an animal? But at that moment it felt like the beginning of something and somehow you let it happened…

Windows that you didn’t remember closing, when you left home for work, the flowers you have put outside watered and trimmed, that feeling of something watching you even at day, increasing more at night — the flowers on your doorsteps….You couldn’t stomach it anymore. You didn’t know if you should be frightened to death, but it never seemed like that it wanted to hurt you. It made you go to the nearby dinner in your town to ask the local people, if they maybe knew of someone living in the woods, but they all told you the same — no one lives there other than you. Maybe it was your look of distress then, your hope crushed, leaving you at your starting point, but the lovely, old lady you have been talking to pulled you closer to her again to whisper in your ear. There was this saying that a creature lives in the woods, young people bored and curious searched for it, but never found anything. Such a serious tone and such a strange omen of sorts. The small warning made you frown. Every town has its own legend and you never considered your self a believer of something beyond imaginary, but the words made you shiver. However the thing you saw that night and those gifts maybe just be a two different things…or were they?

That conversation stuck with you. You considered calling the police, but what would you even tell them? Something is doing your chores for you? Takes care of you? They wouldn’t help you. You tried to pull yourself away from it and like it knew the gifts became bigger, more bold. Those flowers, which you always accepted held something so dear that you still couldn’t quite see, only feel and your romantically deprived self pulled them closer to your chest to lay a kiss upon them with your heart. You hated yourself that you couldn’t pull away, it almost became like some sort of routine. Was it an admirer? It should scare you more than it does, but the fear of unknown is more than enough. Your stupid self accepted each and every one of those gifts and with doing so, it only seemed to grow closer.

It is closer — closer than you think.

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Even if you tried, you couldn’t lie to yourself — you were not alone. Yet for the sake of your own inner peace, you longed for someone to talk to you. Until now, you had only yourself and this thing haunting you, but oddly it also helped you understand yourself more. You became proud of yourself and what you had accomplished so far, almost giddy when you called your old friends to come visit you and your new home. You knew you needed to see the better side of everything that had happened — to find some light in it, but it was so difficult, when you could feel its claws digging into the back of your head. Maybe it was something attached to the house long before you arrived. Maybe you just have to live with, till the time comes for you to understand.

Your fingers press at your temple. Your skin hot, slightly slick, a small smile on your lips as your eyes trail over the room. The glass in your hand is half empty, only taking small, short sips, already feeling good enough to know not to spoil it. Your muscles feel not so tense anymore, your mind empty. Your friends sitting across from you on your small couch laugh, the sound mixing in with the soft music you have put on, your playlist already replaced by unknown songs from how much time has passed by.

Your friend — long, dark hair, sitting at the corner of your sofa drowns down her drink, before catching your lingering gaze. “It’s really nice here, Y/N.” She compliments, beaming almost as she rolls her head to look around the room. The words make the other two stop their conversation to nod softly, also glancing at their surroundings like they didn’t notice it before. Your friend smacks her lips together, lipstick already gone and transferred onto the empty glass in her hands. “And the lake—“ She says dreamily and you smile at her tone, which reminded you of yourself, when you first come across this place.

“Thank you.” You voice is little rough, only now realizing you haven’t talk much since they arrived, throat and mouth a little dry from the alcohol.

“Don’t you get bored though…” Wonders your friend, tucking piece of her brown hair behind her ear.

The question leads your mind to wonder a little. “Not really.” You say firstly, shaking your head. “I mean — there are a lot of things I’m still working on –“ You laugh a little, smoothing down your slightly sweaty hairline.

Your friend cuts you off, shaking her head and sitting up a little straighter. “No, I mean like you are here all alone, it must be scary…” She trails off and your smile slightly falls at her words.

You hope your eyes don’t give away how much you agree with her, though there wasn’t a time you felt any danger…just this presence. “Yeah, sometimes…” You say, voice quiet, tapping your fingers on the glass of your drink. The small silence makes you a little fidgety, pushing your drink to your lips to keep yourself occupied. You don’t even fully take a sip, just wetting your lips as your eyes look up to their faces which clearly show the need for you to continue. “At first it was scary, I couldn’t even sleep — you know, new place, new bed.” You exhale, quite shakily, but you do put back a smile on your face. “But I got used to it…yeah.”

Your gaze falls from them to the vase on your table and the expression, which just faintly flashes across your face isn’t missed. “What are those?” You want to say the obvious — flowers, but not just any kind. You put them there the moment you opened your front door in the morning. It was the first thing on your mind, when you woke up. It truly started to become some sorts of habit, ritual…

“Oh…someone gave them to me.” You say and you wished you had something more to say other than someone, considering the excitement radiating from your friends.

“Tell us more–“ Pleads your curly haired friend, putting her glass on the table to firstly look closely to the different kinds of colors in the vase, before looking up at you with sparks in her eyes.

You almost choke on your own spit. You so wished to know — to know everything about what is happening around you. You also wished to tell them the whole truth, which is small, but it certainly would only raise concern and you don’t want that. It would only make you feel that also. “Well, I don’t — I don’t know, who it is actually.” Your laugh is short and dry, as well as their faces. “Someone just leaves them at my door.” You shrug and your vision travels to your other friend, who leans closer to you to trail her green eyes on your figure.

“Really?” Her eyebrow is raised, slight bite in her tone and you don’t answer firstly as you are puzzled by her small attitude. She tilts her head, eyes forming into slits. “Are you making it up?” She asks you and even with the smirk on her face you could tell it wasn’t so lighthearted as it should seem like.

“W-why–“ You stutter in confusion, looking at her. “Why would I?”

She shrugs at that, body relaxed, but that can’t be said the same for the sudden shift in the air. “I mean, every time we ask you if you have someone you get so offensive and like — you want us to get off your back with this and know you are actually happy when this someone gives you flowers.” Looking at the others, you do too and only your curly haired friend matches your own expression, whispering your friend’s name in a small warning.

You are not surprised that your other friend nods her head in agreement with the words — like usual the two stick together, just like the first time you met them, but you just didn’t expect to be told this. They all knew — they know you long enough and like true friends they wouldn’t talk about this, considering how hard these things are for you. “I am not making it up and what do you mean by that?” You sound maybe too upset, but it is so typical of her to talk and just talk, sometimes you wish for her to just shut up. The alcohol in your system doesn’t help you calm down, though you don’t feel like drinking this problem away. “My world doesn’t circle around men, okay? And you know how hard it is for me to find somebody–“

“Okay, I get!” Her voice is high enough to ring in the room, putting her hands up and you are so upset by the way this small, what should be happy gathering turned into. “Just like — nobody lives here other than you and you are telling me that somebody magically appeared out of nowhere?” Yes.

“I mean she has a point.” Says the brunette next to you, agreeing.

“Are you guys serious?” Your curly haired friend is shocked just as you are, but you on the other hand become speechless a little. They know this topic is something you don’t like to talk about rather alone fight over and just the tone of hers rises the question if she truly likes you or not. She is acting just like the men that have came into your live — not interested, just passing by and pointing at the things you should work on, make them different. Your older friend talks for you for a little, voice mixing together and you can feel the tension slowly eating you up, till it implodes with your friend waving her hands in the air.

“No–“ Now, she is trying to look like the victim of this argument as she didn’t started it in the first place, flashing her eyes back to your tense figure. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s just — it is okay not to have someone, you don’t have to lie–“

“Lie? I didn’t even–“

“But you do kind of need a boyfriend–“

“Yeah, you are a little pent up girl.”

“Pent up?” You raise your voice at that and you laugh inside at how ridiculous this whole situation is, but considering the timing, the fact this wasn’t the first time she started an argument over something, you have the whole right to be upset. “What’s gotten into you? I invite you here, in my house I bought with my own money and the biggest thing that concerns you is a man–“

Your own outburst surprises you slightly, but the look on her face only angers you more, there is no regret. Shaking your head at her, you feel small betrayal and the feelings bubbling in you burst at that moment. Putting your glass on the table, it almost breaks from hard you set it, standing up on your feet and only your true friend comes to catch you before you disappear. “Y/N, come on…” You can tell just how much it upset her also and you have never been more greatful to have her, but right now you just wouldn’t be able to sit back down and ignore what happened.

Everything that has been gathering up in you, pressing on your shoulders takes you to the front door. “I will be right back.” Something about the outside calls out to you and your shiver just at the thought of getting fresh air into your lungs.

“Y/N, where are you going?” The voice is in the distance already as you open the door to your front porch. “Hey!”

You don’t hear anything after that, when you slam the door shut and you almost regret storming off like this, but should you? There have been so many times, when you thought about ending things with these two and maybe this was just the cherry on top. Atleast you now knows, that you have at least one person, who sees you and doesn’t look down on you or tries to crack you open like a shell. Her words sting a little too much and you feel like you lied even to yourself there. You blame it on the colder air, when your eyes water. The tears are more from anger than anything, but you do wonder now — were you really just making it up? You look down at your feet, standing just at the spot where those flowers were put for you just few hours ago. You sigh at yourself, before walking down the small steps of your porch.

You don’t even look back, your feet moving on their own, walking into the direction of the edge of the forest. You do wish that there would be someone, who would understand you — not a friend, but a lover. Someone, who wouldn’t give up on you and wait for you. Someone, who would understand your feelings and know about your struggle to show an emotion, which you are so afraid of. However you have been so alone for so long you don’t know even know, what would you do if someone like this would show up. Maybe you would try to pull away at first, see if they truly like you and not just the thought of you. See if they truly want to get to know you, get to learn about your likes and dislikes and just be there for you. Just maybe someone who would take care of you at your hardest moments…

The sounds of the branches and dirt cracking under your feet is rhythmical, lips parting and closing, talking to yourself in complete silence what felt like just a moment. Your inner monologue is cut off, when you accidentally lose your footing on the moist surface, saving yourself from a nasty fall just in time. Your hands fly to the tree next to you, wood digging into the palms of your hands and you curse a little at your own clumsiness. Just then you look up from the ground, eyes trailing back only to see nothing…nothing, but the forest.

For how long have you been walking around? You just now realized how quiet it all was. Nothing, but the swinging trees and the moon shinning down on you. You lean away from the tree, gaze still on the direction, which you think you came from, only to realize you, that in your small unconsciousness you did not walk in a straight line. You let your own body guide you, mind too occupied and the fear rising in you slowly closes its hands on your throat. A shaky sigh leaves you at that and you fight the obvious — you are completely lost. You have never been so deep in the woods before and all that anger and sadness in you is replaced with nothing, but panic.

The wind blows through your hair, rustling them. The soft strands kiss your cold bitten cheeks, lips parting in silent sighs. Your hand is placed over your chest, fingers expanding in what seems like a hope to warm your self up or more like to calm your racing heart. The concerned and scared look is bright on your features, but it doesn’t hide the natural spark and beauty your eyes have. With each blink of an eye, your eyelashes flutter over your cheek bones and at that moment, it was like, he was seeing you for the first time.

Snap! The sound alerts you, so loud and so close. Your whole body freezes at that moment, pressing yourself back into the tree in hopes that you would disappear into it. You don’t breathe, not turning to the direction. You want to think that it was nothing, just the nature of the forest, but then you feel it — the eyes on you, its presence. Your mouth opens, but no sound is let out. You can feel it like it was right next to you, never till now you haven’t felt it so greatly. You couldn’t — you can’t right now, you truly feel it. It didn’t came from your imagination, it came from the direction right behind you.

Your lungs fight for breath, eyes staring wildly in fear right before you and you don’t hear anything other than the sound of your own heart in your ears. No other twig snaps, but you know it is there, here with you. The more seconds past by, the more feel the unbreakable pressure on the back of your head, the unknown thing behind you like calling to you, telling you to turn around and see. You don’t know if you want to, you can’t run, because you don’t know where to go to and even if you did something told you couldn’t outrun this fate of yours. You do not want to, but you need to — you need to know.

Your eyes fill with tears of fright, your anger still lingering in you, but now it is only anger at how foolish you were. Your body shakes, head twitching as you slowly turn your head to finally lay your eyes upon it behind you. It was something about the way you just knew it had to be it, the reason for the weight on your shoulders, the reason you felt so look after, while also so alone — the reason for your nightmares. Tears escape your eyes as they widened at the sight, nausea filling your body, shivers going down your spine.

You for a moment stand there, absolutely unmoving, because you didn’t know if your mind is still playing tricks on you. You wished so — because those bright, piercing, yellow eyes of the creature, almost make you fall down to your knees. Standing before you, so close and unmoving, just like you, was a wolf, but not like an other. You have never see an animal so big before, it seemed like it could reach to your collarbones and you can’t help, but let out the little noise of fear from the back of your throat. Its fur was dark as the night and if it weren’t for the moon only its eyes would gave away its presence.

Your sound of horror seems to alert it, eyes till now unblinking, ears twitching at your whimper. That only makes you realize that it was real — you are lost in the forest, with no sense of direction, unarmed and all alone, with this creature before you, which seem like anything, but an ordinary wolf. You know you shouldn’t move, can’t even, but when it showed how much it knew of your presence, your own body moved on its own. Your human instinct told you to run and so you did.

Your ears started to ring from the moment your legs started to move, your frozen muscles screaming at your pace, which you didn’t even know you were capable of. You drink up loudly the air swishing around you. The fact you couldn’t hear anything other than yourself only made the terror in your body rise. You don’t turn around, you don’t want to know, how far away or how close it is to you. Your small pathetic sob echoes around you, because you just knew you will not be fast enough to out run it, let alone fight it, if it comes to it. You pass trees, never ending, everything to you seemed the same and after a moment you just run, nothing more, just so you could get away from it. However a simple mistake — small, not calculated step leads to you falling.

You cry out, your uncovered knees burning as they scrape on the ground. Your legs shake, just your hands now holding you up from falling into complete exhaustion. Gasping for air, your whole body screams, the lack of oxygen making you feel so empty and weak. The alcohol which you consumed makes your head spin, turning to your side and you shake your head in denial, when you see it standing right behind you. You are speechless by how you didn’t hear it until now. The wolf doesn’t even breath heavily like you and you cower in fear from how massive it looked in your position.

The disgusting feeling of the truth that you are nothing, but its prey makes you see black spot in your blurry vision, watching it stalk to you with no fight left in you. You can’t believe yourself that you are giving up just like that, but you now know you could never out run it — you can do nothing, but watch it walk into the stream of light coming from between the trees. The wolf’s fur almost glistens in the light, but it isn’t the thing that catches your attention. In its mouth, so delicately and carefully grasped between its sharp teeth, are flowers…

They held the same colors, which you recognize way quicker than you imagine, while being in this situation. Something washes over you, confusion mostly, but then it fades into something warmer. Warm — its gaze is soft, not alerting, but you do push your legs to your chest in terror, when it lowers its head. Your eyebrows furrowed a little, tears suddenly slowing to a stop, only their residue drying on your cheeks. The wolf’s jaw unhinges, putting down those flowers before you, without taking its yellow eyes away from you. Just now, just before you had turned your head till you for the first time look upon it, you suddenly remembered the fact you knew it has to be it.

It doesn’t come closer to you then, instead it turns back around, you watching it closely as it stalks to a tree. Should you run? Something tells you not to at this moment and your own body betrays yet again. Your eyes flicker back to the flowers and you wondered if it already had them, when you saw it for the first time. The air around you seem to change — not so thick and hard for you to breathe, glancing at it once more just as it disappears behind the tree. The way it looked at you, its presence and way of acting — why are you thinking like this? Your chest tightens even more, the last tears left in you escaping as you watch it come back from behind the tree, but what appears leaves you in a state of complete shock.

Wolf no longer, not an animal, but a silhouette of a man stands there, his head turning to look at you, a familiar reflection in his eyes. Your back straightens, disbelief and confusion striking you. You firstly think it’s the trick of an eye — imagination, no you cannot be in denial any longer. The man, who just moments ago was an animal walks out of the shadows and your lips part, when your eyes land on his face. Eyes, so dark yet filled with so much light, masked a little, with the way his dark hair falls into them, plump lips parted in, what seem like a mimicking of your own shock. His body holds the same amount of muscle as his other form and you shake your head at this reality of seeing a man and wolf all together.

His hand outstretches to you, in what seems like a calm demeanor, but how can you be calm? You still can’t fully grasp it, the truth so bitter and obvious, but you can’t just accept what your eyes saw. This isn’t possible, anything…With your inner battle, panic fills you, when the man walks closers to you and with all your strength left in you, you stand up on your wobbly feet. “No, don’t-“ His voice makes goosebumps rise on your skin, but you don’t listen, already moving to run yet again.

However even against this man it is no use. You don’t even fully take two full steps before you feel his touch. His arms come to wrap around your body, squeezing you enough for you not to move even an inch. You freeze, gasping in shock, eyes falling down on his arms. No sign of strain in his muscles, even when you start to twitch and fight against him. “Get off me!” Your voice is scratchy and weak. You can feel his chest rising against your back, his breath fanning over your naked shoulder. It is him — how? His presence so familiar, but so new. “Please…” You whisper, head hanging low and your small tone of voice makes him momentarily freeze, before releasing you from his grip.

You instantly jump away from him, turning back to fully get a look at him. He gazes at you so softly that air gets stuck in your dry throat. “I am not going to hurt you.” You almost shudder, when he puts his hands up yet again. His eyes — just with his eyes he pleads for you not to run away again, though you do back away from him enough till your back meets a tree.

It’s so quiet around you — too quiet for you to escape your reality. The rumors, once a fairytail, now turns into nightmare and the truth. A creature in the woods…it was all him. All those times you felt something watching you, it was him all along. Wolf, a man all together, standing right before you, gazing at you with so much softness that it scared you more than anything. “You – you…You are–“ How hard can it be to say the truth, when are already accepting it? “It was all you.” You shake your head, lip quivering.

Something like a regret, small shame flashes in his eyes at your tone and if it weren’t for your panicking, you would think it was all fake . “Yes…” He says.

“You are a…” You can’t even say it, because it would only make it real, though how long can you hide from this, when it is right infront of you. Your eyes close in small defeat, opening them again and this small move of yours makes him take a step closer to you. “No, don’t come any closer!” Your tone is weak, only filled with fear and not enough anger and strength.

“Please–“ His tone is soft and his demeanor makes you think more about your own. “Don’t be scared, I would never hurt you-“

The words sound so truthful, yet you don’t find yourself fully believing them. You don’t know his intentions, only acting upon, what he has done so far. “You…” His name is still unknown, but now atleast you can put a face to all of those things that happened. You want to believe him and you do a little, but you just can’t accept that he is the thing that has been haunting you — taking care of you. Your eyes trail over him thankfully, few beats passing as you watch each other. “If you don’t want to hurt me then why didn’t you atleast not once come to me, told me that it was you. I would–“

“You would have run away.” He says and the words make your lips fall shut. Was he watching you for that long to know how would you react? Or is just your human nature and his not so — you probably would respond like any other person, but yet you stand here talking to him. A werewolf…He wondered, played this exact scenario in his head multiple times, but it would always end up the same. He knew you would be like this — staring at him, seeing him for what he truly is..

From the first time he saw you, he knew, he wouldn’t be able to just let you go. Something about you was so different — different from the people haunting him. You can understand — you will. His human side, almost forgotten, awoken by the first sight of you. He didn’t know how to act and what to do, only acting on what his heart was telling him and he never intended to hurt you nor scare you. However now, the look on your face, so distant, almost like you aren’t here with him at all, probably fighting your own inner battle, makes his chest tighten. The sigh that leaves him makes you look at him again, eyes glistening in the cursed light of the moon. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t come to you, because of the moon.” The response makes your face soften, gaze just lightly glancing up in the sky. “It ties me together, it controls my human and animal nature. Only at night I can roam freely like this and if I did come to you at day, I would only grow weaker. If a give up on the moon in change of the sun, I will no longer be myself…” Your frown is deep on your features, but he can see your tense shoulders slightly slumping, body softening at his quiet tone. “I never imagined myself being like everybody else — I despise it–“ His voice turns bitter, as the memories of the people searching for him find him and you do not need an explanation to it — you understand. “From the moment I first saw you…you. You made me feel more than animal and for once I long for walking in the sun again…”

Those words — so softly spoken, so lovingly…Do you really make him feel like this? Did just your presence make him want to change his nature? Just because of you? Every time you felt him, the memories of his presence at night makes you realize that maybe he truly wasn’t trying to make you feel scared. He wanted you…to feel safe, he wanted to be there with you, he just didn’t know how. He did those things to make you feel aware of him to make you notice him like he did to you. “Those things–“ Gifts. “What did they mean?” You ask him, but you already know, you already understand.

“Did you like them?” The sudden sweet tone, mixed with what seems like innocent excitement, confuses you a little, but your expression doesn’t stop him for continuing. “Sorry, my courting skill are not that good–“

“Courting?” The meaning of this word is foreign on your tongue and you are completely speechless at this confession. You knew that it had to mean something — even your friends thought this was it, but actually hearing it being confirmed is another thing. “You call that courting…I was — I am…you are not-“

Your stumbling over your words leads him to come closer to you and for the first time you don’t pull away. “Y/N.” Your lips fall apart at the sound of your name, surprised by him knowing it, but you should have known better. Your stuttering is silenced, when he is suddenly right infront of you, till you can feel is warm breath mixing with yours.

“What do you want?” You whisper in the air between you two and you can’t stop yourself from not becoming breathless at his presence. You naturally corner at the close proximity, knees buckling under you as he leans over your body.

He tilts his head at that question and he wonders why to use this type of words, when it is so obvious. “What do I want?” He repeats, looking down at you. You can’t look away from his eyes, lost in his irises and dilated pupils. Was it really that hard for you to find somebody that would take care of you? He will give it to you. His fingers touch your cheek, stained with your tears and you gasp at the unexpected contact. “Don’t be scared of me, I am real…”

“That’s the thing that scares me…” His fingers trail over the traces your tears have left and you feel the warmth of his skin radiating, just from his finger tips. The cold you feel screams for his warmth, that is what you would like to tell yourself, when your eyes flutter closed. You can’t remember the time you felt like this, did you ever? Something about him is just so soothing, melting on your tongue and your heart skips a beat, when he places his palm on the side of your face. “What is your name?” You wonder out loud, eyes opening and unmoving from his.

“Changbin.”

There is subtle smile on his pink lips from the way you let him touch you and he has to fight back his own shiver of pleasure. “How long have you been here?” You ask more. Maybe because you can feel where this is leading. Were you trying to prevent it? No…you are too smitten by his nature.

“Long time, not particularly staying at one place, till you got here…” You silently gasp, when his thumb catches over your cupid’s bow. You don’t know what is happening to you right now. You are turning into nothing, but a puddle by just few small, little, sweet words and actions — however it is real, all of it. You don’t even know him, but he does know you enough it seems. The attraction you feel for him should be normal, but not the way you so openly let him touch you like this. He really is a magical creature. “You were like a breath of fresh air. I could feel your kindness, I could see how much fight and passion you hold…I apologize for scaring you, I just — I was scared just like you…”

You already know, you already understood, but it doesn’t make you not want to hear him say it. “Why?” You breath out, your small word being traced with his finger.

“Because I–“ He leans just a little closer, stopping himself from, what he wanted the most. His other hand falls next to your head, caging you in and galloping you with his body. “I wanted you to see me, not like that but like this…”

“Why?”

Your question is not answered from his lips. His hand leaves you only to trail over your cold arm, goosebumps only defining from his touch. Changbin hand wraps around your wrist, not too tight, like he wanted you to know that you could stop him any time, but to his delight you don’t. You let him take your hand, placing it over his chest, pushing hard enough for you to feel his racing heart. “Because of this…” Your hand trembles under his, melting at his words and you just can’t help it, but feel him. Never once in your life you had someone talking to you like this. You shouldn’t — he watched you, stalked you, but his sincere voice, made you believe that what he is saying is coming from the heart.

His hand leaves yours, but you don’t move it away. He places his both hands on either side of your face, making you glance back into his eyes. “You are so beautiful.” He whispers so sweetly, closing your eyes for a split moment, completely missing how his eyes turned dark.

“Changbin…” You whispered his name for the first time, mind fuzzy from him alone.

The darkness of his gaze sends shivers down your spine — so predatory, it only makes you remember who and what is holding you. “You didn’t throw away a single thing I gave you.” He states it more than questions it and the look he gives you next…you can’t quite place it. “I know you feel it too.” You are so ashamed that you do.

Your mouth opens in response, when he leans closer to you, till you can feel your lips grazing over his, your every word bouncing off his skin. “This is too much for me.” Your body tells you both otherwise.

“Then let me handle it…” Changbin mumbles over your lips. He wets his with his tongue, the smooth muscle touching your lips so quickly you gasp in shock. “Stop me if you don’t want it…” ‘You want it’, screams a voice in your head.

You don’t say anything back, any response silenced by yourself and his lips pressing to yours. It is softer than you expected, just subtle innocent kiss, till it quickly turns into something, filled with border line hunger. His tongue swipes over your lips, your gasp only letting him in, making you silently whimper into his mouth. The grip on your hips isn’t missed, so hard, that you almost jump at the sensation. He squishes your skin between his fingers, making the material of your dress bunch up. You can’t seem to keep up with his pace, he kissed you with so much passion and want that was held back for way too long. You are now meer puppet in his greedy hands.

Your hands come to his shoulders, squeezing at the hard muscle. His teeth wrap around your bottom lip, softly tugging at it, till it’s red and puffy. “You taste better than I imagined.” Your mind is empty, letting him trail his kisses to your cheek, your jaw, before they go lower to your neck. He is making you feel like a completely different person. You would have thought that you can fight your own desire and needs just fine, but the heat rising between your thighs says otherwise.

Your lips still tingle, tasting your mixed spit and you have to wonder if he isn’t an enchanter instead. His lips wrap around the thin skin of your neck, sucking so harshly you can’t do anything, but to take it. Teeth pricking on you next, saliva dripping from his mouth like an hungry animal tasting your flesh. “Changbin–“ It is so quiet you don’t even hear it yourself, it is like his name is the only thing you have ever known. Just like he wanted…

He releases your skin with a pop, hair framing his dark hooded eyes that pierce through yours. “Yes?” He is breathing hard, chest rising heavily.

“Don’t stop.”

Something comes over him at your words of consent, making him grab at your waist, before you are being lifted off your feet, with such an ease it leaves you gasping for air. Your feet dangle in the air for a moment, before he lowers you to the forest’s ground. Changbin’s hand gripped at your thigh, pressing into his, till he unexpectedly slides his leg between your open ones. The move makes your shake, back arching a little at the sensation of the coldness under you. It doesn’t even make you shiver, because he presses his chest to yours, till your breaths turn into one.

He kisses you again, full with teeth and tongue, huffing through his nose, when he gets the first whiff of your arousal. His hands roam freely and boldly over you — your legs, pushing your dress up, making it pool to your hips, your soft stomach, your chest, fingers caging in your erected nipples. You moan softly, your sound being swallowed hungrily by his mouth as he rolls your buds between his fingers. It sends electricity through you, legs closing, hips shifting, till you can feel his thigh pressing into your center.

Changbin pulls away from you at that, watching you closely, before he manhandles you to his liking. Your legs untangle themselves from his, him holding them tightly in his grasp, before he pulls you closer to him. Your bottom half lifts a little from his sheer strength, gasping when your dripping cunt meets his covered cock. “Feel that?” Leaning back over you, he moves his hips against yours and your mouth hangs open at the feeling of him against you. You feel so dirty, laying down here in the forest with a man who just moments ago revealed his true nature. With his arms on either side of your head, he is in a good enough of distance away from you to see the expression on your face, cock twitching at the sweet frown on your pretty face. “This is what you do to me…look at me–“ You don’t hear him. Mouth opened in small sounds of pleasure, completely fucked out just from the small, delicious rolls of his hips. You hear him hissing a little, when your leg drew to wrap itself around his waist, before there is a hand on your jaw. “I want you to look at me.” The hard pull at your head makes you look up at him finally, eyes glistening at the possessive look in his eyes. “There — so pretty, pretty only for me.”

You moan softly, already drunk. Changbin traces his hand over your exposed thigh, eyes leaving yours to your barely covered pussy and he can’t help it, but breathe your scent in from the sight. So fucking sweet — he is loosing his mind already from how you are letting him do these things to you. Your skin so soft, cold, replaced now by the heat coming from him. He watches you twitch against him, when his fingers touch the band of your underwear. “Want me here, huh?” He is cocky now, completely opposite to the sweet man minutes ago and it gives you a whiplash.

You only blink at him, eyes going to the amused smile on his lips. You can’t even think about how much his behavior changed, because he suddenly cups you into his hand. “F-fuck–“ You gasp in the silence of the night, hips jumping into his hand, mewling, when his index and ring finger press at you through your underwear. The material is already ruined, soaked through and melting into a perfect mold of your spasming cunt, while he slowly yet roughly trails his fingers through your covered folds.

“Fuck, you are already soaked, baby-“ Changbin watches your chest rise wildly with his every move, licking his lips at the feel of your slick coating him. You are a mess. You look at him through your eyelashes, whimpering at his every move. You feel hot all over, so needy, that you found yourself humping his hand. You have never seen yourself like this before, face flushing in small embarrassment, but that only makes his cock swell.

You feel him push your underwear to the side, the elastic springing lightly back and that makes him release a small sound of frustration. Your sound gets caught in your throat, when he tears the material, shredding it into pieces, before throwing it away like it this small piece of clothing was offending him. “Please!” You gasp, hands digging into the ground beneath you. You don’t recognize your voice even, but your behavior doesn’t seem to surprise him.

“Ah – so needy, already. I thought you wanted to take this slow–“

“I–I do, but…just touch me, please.” You whisper back, sitting up a little on your elbows to gaze at him, while he traces shapes on your inner thigh. “I want it-“

Changbin hums lowly, the sound vibrating in his chest, almost like a purr. “What do you want?” You bite at your lip, holding your tongue for a moment, but you can’t control your desire anymore.

“You.”

He takes a deep breath, eyes almost rolling back into his skull. The first dip into your wetness makes you both moan, fingers spreading your lips open to touch your most sensitive parts. Your mind keeps swirling, falling back, till your head meets the ground. “Yes, look at you…so so so pretty–“ Whimpering, his other hand comes to your lower tummy to stop you from moving. He doesn’t let you move, but your legs close a little, when he presses onto your clit.

“S-so pretty – ah!” You repeat lowly, completely delirious. You tremble a little, when he flicks your bud, teasing you into a mess that you already are. He doesn’t stay at one place too long — from swirling tight, slow circles on your pulsing clit, he moves away to spread his fingers over you, till the tips of his fingers touch your entrance.

Changbin doesn’t hold himself back too much, enjoying the way your face turns into desperation brought him way too much joy. Just moments ago you seemed so sure of yourself that you wouldn’t let him break you, but here you were whimpering by his every touch. He dips his middle finger just a little inside you, breathing through his nose at how your cunt already tries to suck him in. He wonders what you will look like, when he finally fucks you onto his cock, how he will mold you onto him, perfectly ruining you for any other. There will never be no other — he will make sure of that.

Just his finger prying at you is enough for you to feel a slight strech, humming in pleasure, when he finally sinks it into your heat. Your gummy walls squeeze him tight, eyebrows furrowing, when he immediately curls his single finger. He can see it on your face — how much more you want, even if your body is already shaking, just by a single finger, but now he has to think — who is he to not give you the pleasure you deserve? “Oh–“ His ring finger joins his middle one, not even giving you a second to breathe as he already curls them inside leaking pussy.

He moves his fingers slowly, tips of them trailing deeply over your upper walls. You can feel his covered cock pressing onto your thigh and you swear you can feel it twitch, with the sharp moan you give him next. “Come on, baby…give it to me…” You whole body trembles, upper back lifting of the ground, when you suddenly feel him touching the one part in you that makes you see stars. There is suddenly a smile on his face, watching your pretty eyes widened, lips parting in silent moan, when he presses harder over the one gummy spot. “There?” He rumbles lowly and you don’t even have to answer him giving the look of bliss on your face.

His fingers suddenly still, as he moves to lay back next to you. He still presses onto your spot however, other fingers on you like hooking onto you. His lips found your collarbone, laying a kiss on your skin, so sweet and so opposite to the way he suddenly starts to move his hand. “Oh, fuck!” You almost squeal at the unexpected move, breathing turning into series of gasp as he starts to finger your cunt, each pump of his fingers pushing harshly into your spot.

“That’s it–“ Changbin’s words of encouragement are mumbled into your skin, eyes on the sight of his digits disappearing into you. He scissors them, curls them — he does everything and that sends you hurling into your peak way too quick than you anticipated. Your fingers were never long enough to reach that delicious spot inside you perfectly, always too impatient to build up the orgasm you only wished of having. He does things to your body, it seems like he knows it better than you do, because you can already feel your juices coating your inner thighs. The nasty, borderline filthy noises coming from between your legs make you flustered, almost wanting to jump away from such pleasure, but he doesn’t let you. His grip is tight onto you, mouthing, nibbling at you with his teeth and you can’t do anything but succumb to him.

Your hands rest on his arms, fingers digging into his muscles that ripple under your touch. With him hovering over you like this, you can clearly see how much bigger he is compare to you — it was almost like he was becoming bigger and bigger. He huffs, growls into you, unoccupied hand traveling to your breast and squeezing instantly at the flesh. “I’m–“ You gasp out, hands fumbling furiously over him, shaking in his hold. Your nipple digs into his palm, him squeezing you so tight that the material separating you from feeling yourselves flesh to flesh, almost rips.

His head rolls back, eyes wildly staring at your cunt hungrily sucking his fingers in, before landing on yours. He can feel how your walls start to clench, his palm pressing down on your neglected clit. You can’t even look at him fully, eyes brimming with small tears and he nearly coos at you. His inner–self tears at the insides of his chest at the sight of you, already so fucked out just by this simple touch…Your tummy rumbles at his nonstoping pace, becoming quiet, mouth opening and closing as you feel the first sparks of your orgasm, till it is suddenly ripped away from you.

Gasping, you cry out, when he pulls his now slicked fingers away from you. Confusion and frustration fills you, legs immediately closing to relieve yourself of the ache. You almost want to cry, looking up at him with big eyes that only make him more amused. However there isn’t much amusement in his dark gaze, both of you watching yourselves closely, while he fully comes to settle between your legs. “I want you to come on my cock-“ You sharply inhale at those vile words, eyes falling onto his hands, while they fumble with his pants.

You are already out of your mind, just one thing left in your thoughts as you see him pull his clothes off. Cold air kisses your slick, making you momentarily shiver, lips coating with spit that pools inside your mouth. You didn’t accept the thing that comes next. You already felt it grazing over you, but that only gave you an idea on what he must be like — however, the sheer weight of it, springing free from his hiding makes you stop breathing. His cock, so thick and delicious with red, angry tip leaking pre cum makes you tightened around nothing. Your mouth opens in small shock, trailing your eyes down the length of if, till it falls to the base and when he just barely moves closer to you, it makes you realize that just maybe you won’t be able to take it.

Changbin set his cock over your lower half, his tip meeting your belly button and you stutter over the sight. “Too big–“ You say, eyes staring at his anatomy. His fingers would never be able to fully prepare you for his size and you feel nerves creeping up on you.

He click his tongue at your words, eyes not showing any concern, only desire. Pressing just a little harder down on his cock, he groans at the sight. “Gonna be all the way inside your tummy.” He grips at the base of his thick cock, the small pouch filled with his hot cum hot, tip leaking cum all over your skin already. “You can take it–“ You lightly whimper, breathing hard. “Gonna breed this little pussy of yours.” Your mouth opens even more in shock at that, biting down on your lower lip.

With big eyes you watch his face for a moment. “I can’t–“ Your voice is small, looking like a small lamb before a wolf — which he is.

He taunts you a little, shaking his head. “You can – look.” Your gaze falls down the length of your body again, before it watches how he moves his thick cock, while he lowers it enough till it meets your clit. You mewl, when he slaps it over you, wet sounds flowing around you in the darkness of the night. Your ruined orgasm still didn’t leave you, the simple slap making your back arch a little. Changbin only hums back, smearing himself in your wetness.

You taste blood on your tongue from how much you are bitting down on your lower lip, feeling every single inch of his massive cock. He fucks into his fist, tip hitting your clit each time. He wants you to say it — he wants you to give yourself to him more and more, until he is the only thing you can ever think of. You naturally want to move away from him, already knowing he will stretch you pass your limits, but you can’t stop the single word falling from your lips. “Please–“ You mumble, hand reaching to his shoulder. “Please, please–“

Fuck, you are really a thing to die for. His cock twitches by your needy tone, already to desperate himself not to push his cock to your entrance. His eyes caught the sight of his cum leaking into you, cunt clenching over his spillage and he just can’t wait any longer. His tip plops into you with no warning, the thickness making you sob out a little. “Fuck, so tight-“ You look absolutely wrecked already, chest covered in thin layer of sweat, lips nicely flushed and bitten. You look good enough to devour.

Just the tip of his cock sends sparks of delight through your body, frowning in pleasure. You try to breathe through it, feeling the slight sting in you, but your own body surprises by how much you begged for more. Your hips lift off the ground, only making him sink more into you and you just realize how much more you will have to take. Your move makes Changbin release a low, long sound that almost makes you cower. It rumbles inside his chest and you can’t even think about how much of a mistake that was to do, because right after that half of his cock slides into your warmth.

Your choked sound mixes with his, grabbing tightly at his big arms. “Don’t do that–“ He can feel his control over his body fading and just as much as he wants to fuck you, he would die on the spot if he would hurt you. Though that doesn’t seem likely, when you start to roll your hips into his. “So fucking needy–“ He is already almost at your cervix, sighing at how you can feel each of his vein pulsating against you.

“C-Changbin.” You say his name like a mantra and when you look at him then with big, glassy eyes, he cannot stop himself.

All the way to the brim, to the thick base holding his hot cum is suddenly inside you. You yelp — whiny sounds falling from your mouth. His whole cock stretches you so much, you can’t hold it anymore. Your whole body stills, legs locking around his. The small kiss of the soft hair at his pubic bone on your bundle of nerves sends you over the edge. Tears stream down your cheeks, shaking under him. His whole face changes then, eyes wide and staring at you in awe that almost would be sweet if it weren’t for the fact his cock is all the way in your tummy.

Your sudden orgasm is sharp, juices coating both of you and when it slowly fades you can’t even be embarrassed, because he starts to slide his cock from your warmth, till it fills you up again with a harsh smack! His hands travel to the front of your dress, not stopping the smooth moves of his hips, even when he rips the soft, flowy material. “Look at that–“ You babble, goosebumps appearing on the new uncovered skin of your tits. “So soft.” Changbin grabs a handful of you, before deciding to let your breast freely bounce in the air from his thrusts.

You can feel him all the way to your throat, never feeling unful as he picks up speed. “Too much–“ You are a whimpering mess under him, each sharp thrust only making you get a feel of the full pouch under his cock. The sounds that leave him are animalistic — so raw and loud. Leaning back over you it only makes him go deeper in you, making your legs push forward, till they rest over his lower back.

He doesn’t even let you be in your own world, he wants you to look at him — he wants you to see, who is doing this to you. “You are taking me so good, bunny–“ The nickname goes to your head a little more than it should and even in your state you realize how much he is getting off on the fact that your body is so small compare to his. You shiver harshly, when he suddenly swipes his hot tongue over your cheek, while his lips go to meet your ear. “Can you feel that?” His hand falls over your soft tummy, pressing down onto it, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Gonna bread this little pussy – gonna make you mine and only mine-“

His thighs meets the back of yours so loudly it echoes around you, the squelching of your cunt and both of your moans mixing into symphony of pleasure. You should be concerned by the possessiveness of his actions and words, but you are too drunk on him to even care. With each pump of his cock, each sharp thrust, he can feel his cock right under his hand, the cum at the base of his cock teasing your entrance. “W-what–“ Your hooded eyes snap open, when his hips come to roll against yours, slowly realizing what he wants to do — he wants you take all of him.

Your small noise, makes him pull his head away from your shoulder, shushing you softly. “It’s okay, baby — you can take it.” You shake your head a little, spit flowing down your cheek only to realize it wasn’t even yours. “Just a little more, you are doing so good to me–“ The thick base pushes into you more and more and you yelp a little at the small pain. Changbin kisses you softly then, smoothing down your hair, stopping his abuse at your poor, puffy cunt, only for him to grasp your legs, maneuvering them so they are on each of his shoulders.

That position makes it easier for him and less painful for you, but it still makes you whimper pathetically. “Please–“ You are pleading again. His knot is so big it makes you see spot before your very eyes, both of you stilling for a moment, when it finally plops into you.

You can’t breathe — your ears ringing and you are thankful for the soft kisses on your cheek to distract you. Your knees lock around his neck, turning your head to him in small disbelief. Changbin leans to kiss you deeply, mumbling small, sweet nothings to you, letting your body relax a little. The feeling is different to anything you have ever felt before — with your walls sucking him in, it seems like you are milking him dry. Only the feel of his already leaking cock sends you into brink of overstimulation. “You did so good–“ Your lip is again pulled by his teeth, letting his tongue roam freely inside your mouth, distracting you long enough, until you again feel your neediness come back to you.

The response of your body makes him move a little, humping into you only, so his knot doesn’t leave you. He hits something inside you, your clit burning a little, with his pubic bone sliding over yours. Cursing, you feel him sit back a little on his knees to roll his hips sharper into yours. He is mesmerized by you — your flushed, hot skin, teary, pleading eyes and soft tits jiggling with his every move. “Ohhh–“ Your eyes close, back arching a little, because you can’t move much, with his body lying on top of yours.

His slow, yet deep thrusts make you turn into jelly, body slumping, mouth opening and letting drool roll down the side of your face. His face turns into big grin, breathing heavily with you, feeling his cock jump with his each one of his thrust. He wants it to take — fuck, he wants to turn you into this mess every day. Your body relaxes so much that you don’t even make a sound, when he starts to slide his cock in and out of your stretched out hole, his thick base sinking into you, with so much ease now.

His head rolls back at the sensation, eyes looking up to the sky, reflecting the light of the moon. He can feel himself losing over his other self, his moves becoming more and more erratic that it makes you slide down the cold ground. Your gaze travels to the length of his neck, watching his throat bob, veins pushing against the thin skin. Your soft whimpers turn into whines, feeling the delicious sensation of your second peak. The sounds leaving you make him turn his gaze back to you and you fight the argue to gasp at the state of him. His once dark eyes are now yellow and bright, mouth open, small pointy teeth blinking teasingly at you, spit coating his lips and rolling all the way down his chin. “I’m close-“ You whisper, eyes wide and unblinking from his.

You are too pretty like this — too hard not to just sink his teeth into you. His own legs start to spasm, his rough, deep thrusts going out of rhythm, feeling the heat slowly filling his stomach. His lips are onto yours again and you barely call it a kiss as you both only gasp into each other’s mouths. “Yes–“ He picks up his speed, chasing both of your highs. “Come for me, pretty girl–“

It is such a delicious burn, such a nice pressure, when he unexpectedly sinks his teeth into your shoulder. It doesn’t hurt, it only sends sheer pleasure down your spine, the spot tingling with each swipe of his tongue on the sensitive skin, tasting small specks of your blood. Your nails scratch at his still covered back, while your cunt clenches hard around his cock. He can’t move from the way you squeeze him, the tightness sending him over the edge just as he pushes his knot back into you. Your orgasm hits you so hard, that you only see white for a moment, juices squirting out of you, coating you both. You feel him still, head falling to your shoulder, body weight pressing onto yours. You feel and hear him take in your natural scent, while he cums inside you. The fullness you feel is so much — his cock swells more and more, feeling every pump his cum coming out of his cock. The hot liquid fills you to the brim, a low growl coming from the deepest parts of his chest.

He doesn’t make a move to pull out, feeling his cum leak all the way to your tummy. It is so much that with his hand still pressing down on you, it leaks out of you, coating you both in sticky residue. Changbin watches your face of complete euphoria, the feeling of you milking him dry sending shivers down his spine. He waited so long — too long to have you like this and he is sure, he will never let you out of sight again. Not, when you take him so good, not when you have become such a precious little thing for him. It is just like he wanted — you under him, with him buried inside of you, full of his cum from his still hard cock, his knot still full and ready for you to take more. And with the way you accepted him already as he is — like the thing you were, you had no clue, what have gotten yourself into…he just can’t wait to have you again and again.

Every day and every night, till you will be his forever.

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations 🌸🌷🌸

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

With Neptune Square MC you probably don't see yourself in a »typical« career. Also, other people or the public so to say has a false understanding of your role in the society, your status, career and even about your relationship with your parents. You are confused about your profession or your life path. You quite literally might need to pretend in your job (such as being an actor) or you feel like you cannot be you, but instead play a role (counsellor). There is a barrier of illusion here, because in your career you cannot be just you, but it's often a role you are »pretending« for.

Moon opposite Chiron: with Chiron hitting the Moon here, there is usually an emotional vulnerability from the past (either from the family or the mother) and you feel it comes up again and again in your relationships. You often feel emotions are »too much« or you don't feel understood emotionally enough. You have felt that it is not safe to express your feelings at home. Yet now you deeply understand other's emotions, but at the same time you are scared of emotional closeness.

Uranus square Pluto: you often feel repressed, restricted in a public job or working for another's company. You like going against the norm. You may lose your job and randomly start your own company, because you don't like to be controlled. Only when you are in crisis or chaos, you actually end up making a change.

Jupiter trine Saturn: you build things really slowly in life. You often approach it with structure and a vision with a plan. You may even help build a school or a company. This aspect is very much »start up« energy.

Pluto in the 4th house, you grew up in a family where there was survelliance of some sort or family member were too critical. This rarely means actual death of a family member, but instead you lost something very important, like divorce of your parents or loss of a healthy family dynamic. You felt you couldn't trust emotions and relationships at home, so at times you have a hard time trusting others or have a hard time building long-term, stable relationships. Feelings of safety, protection and love were not openly expressed. Or they were conditioned with power, control or sometimes even fear. One parent usually had weak control or was completely physically or emotionally absent. You may feel that you don't know who you really are when you peel off outer mask or the influence of your family. You may often move, renovate your home or quite literally lose it and build a new one. Or you destroy everything what you had and build new emotional and physical connections. You could also move far away due to feeling of releasing the burden of family legacy or to break from your heritage, inherited patterns. You may not be as patriotic too, almost like there is sort of disdain for your home country. There is an indirect transfer of trauma from a family member, you feel like you carry the weight of events you didn't directly experienced.

Lilith in the 4th house is tricky. I would say even more than Pluto in the 4th, because at least Pluto can »reintroduce« themselves and transform many points in life. Lilith here touching your roots, emotional world, family, what can end up happening is you isolating yourself a lot. You often have a feeling of rebellion or being left out like a general feeling or feeling you experience at home or with your family. But often you isolate, when you don't work through your past family patterns. Usually this placement later on builds a home and a family life completely based on their own terms and principles.

If you have North Node in the 2nd house, yeah figure out your values in life as soon as possible. Because when you don't, you end up being too giving and sacrifical to others. In this lifetime, you need to develop financial literacy, develop talents and practical skills. Your life lesson will be learning to be self-sufficient, knowing your worth and creating generational wealth basically. You probably came from emotional dependency or an environment with addiction, substance abuse problems, but you need to learn stable confidence in your adulthood.

Surprisingly, Uranus in the 12th house is that one low-key placement that could ALSO indicate having a feeling of leading a double life. And what I mean by this, you have your outter mundane, normal life and an inner life full of »aha moments«, deep transformations, secret rebellion, resentment towards the old structures or anything that you deem too conventional in community. There is this feeling that the real »you« is hidden or within you, but not visible to others. You have an inner understanding that you are different from others, but you never say that to others or share this with others, you keep quiet.

With Neptune in the 12th house, here a double life could also be found. But from much different reasons than Uranus in the 12th. There are usually troubles differenciating between what's real and what's ficional, imaginative or illusory. So you often don't say anything, because you feel others just won't understand or see you as someone »just a little odd«.

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

[bbokicidal]

[SKZ] Being their stylist

Could you imagine? God, I'd die.

Notes: I've heard rumor that you've gotta be married to be an idol stylist because,, obviously they don't want dating shit happening but we are DISREGARDING THAT HERE. i couldn't find the recolored vers. of seungmin & innie so... oh well ig. Genre: Fluff Pairing: OT8 x NB!Reader Warnings: Extra fluffy cuteness I guess

Chan:

Sits so patiently and tells you to take your time

You're his favorite stylist. He loves when you're the one who does his makeup so sometimes he requests specifically you

You're just so gentle with him and it feels like he's really being pampered

He loves the way you make his eyes so smokey for stage looks

Keeps his posture good in an effort to impress you

Does that little :] face with his eyes closed because you're just so pleasant to him

Minho:

Falls asleep every time you do his hair

You tell him to keep his head up only to figure out he's sleeping so soundly and you just don't have the heart to wake him when he's on such a tight schedule lately

Jeongin has a LOT of pictures of you bending at funny angles to style Minho's hair while his head is tipped back or to the side

(And one of you pretending to kiss his cheek as he's mid-waking up)

He wakes up feeling so pretty every time you style him

Sleeps with his mouth open like an idiot (me too)

Changbin:

Likes to make you laugh while you style him in outfits

He poses each time you put him in a new jacket and maybe it's just an excuse to flex in front of you oops who said that

He's giggling right alongside you until he accidentally rips a shirt open

The buttons fly right off and he screams, covering his bare chest as you burst into laughter at how silly he sounded and how he scrambled to cover himself up

You get him a new shirt but he's extra careful after that and his ears are beet red

He'll never forgive himself for embarrassing himself in front of you

But he's also an idiot and will forget about it, and probably does it again the next day because he can't help himself

Hyunjin:

Likes to ask what you're doing while you do it

Has not a CLUE what you're talking about when it comes to makeup but listens intently anyways because it's interesting

Any form of art is interesting to him and that includes makeup !

His brows furrow and he nods and he stares at you while you talk which can sometimes be intimidating

Also kind of sucks at sitting through makeup because he's so talkative with the boys

He's also very loud but he tones it down when he talks to you and uses a softer voice with you

Is very happy to listen to you explain makeup to him but also ,,, tell him what contour is again?

Jisung:

He likes to give you complete freedom when it comes to his outfits

Put whatever you want on him; mens, womens, any clothing you think would look good

You were the one who put him in that grey cropped long sleeve a while ago and people went CRAZY so since then he's trusted you with everything

He loves the outfits you make!!

And the ones you wear because he totally checks you out ALL the damn time!!

Sometimes he even asks if he can take pieces home so he can incorporate them into his daily wear and if he does, he tags you in his insta pics - to which you have to tell him 'I didn't make this, tag the brand!!!' and he just laughs

Felix:

Please tell him makeup tips, he's so curious and he wants to start doing his own makeup too

Sometimes he does, for airports and stuff. But that's just a cushion and some powder

Tell him what color eyeshadows look pretty with his eyes, tell him how blush placement changes the shape of his face and the tone of his look

He's going to be asking questions and, if he has access to one, looking at the details up close in a handheld mirror he keeps hold of

It's intimidating to be honest but he's so smiley and chatty with you that your nerves fade away pretty quickly

He also just thinks you're really really gorgeous so he might use it as an excuse to look up at you more. He's examining the makeup you're wearing, that's all !!

Seungmin:

He's got this horrible habit of staring at you through the mirror while you do his hair

He loves the haircut, don't get him wrong, but it looks like he's feeling everything BUT that because of the way he sort of glares

Well - not glares. He just has this RBF that is untouched by anyone else in the world

If you look at him, he looks away and scrolls on his phone, but shortly after he's back to staring

You're just really attractive is all. And he likes your hair, too - so maybe some day he'll take inspiration from that if you allow him

Also the type to fall asleep while you cut his hair because the spray bottle and little scissor cutting sounds are just so soothing

Jeongin:

Is very compliant when you do his makeup

He sits still, he's patient, he only turns his head away when he knows you're changing something up on the table

He keeps his head up and knows when to close his eyes, when to look up, when to part his lips for balm and tint

Very well behaved, one might say

But it's because when you're doing the other's makeup, he's paying close attention. He's always watching you and trying to find ways to impress you without actually making it obvious that that's what he's trying to do

He starts bringing you your favorite snack because he notices it sitting on your makeup table while on tour

He likes to talk to you while you do his makeup but he's a little bit shy about it - he's not openly chatty like Felix or Hyunin

And the day he calls you his favorite stylist you swear your heart almost explodes

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek @pixie-felix @hwangjoanna @skzophreniic

@silly250

[letjungk09k]

Forgive me, kitten?

Main Masterlist

.ᐟ pairing. ⤑ Sylus x Reader (no use of y/n).

.ᐟ synopsis. ⤑ After a loss in Kitty Cards, Sylus is determined to make it up to you in the most unforgettable way.

.ᐟ word count. ⤑ 6k posted on my ao3

.ᐟ WARNINGS, mdni!!. ⤑ explicit sexual content, porn with plot, soft sylus mixed with dom sylus, light dom/sub play, sylus is WHIPPED for you, fwb kinda situation but unestablished relationship, seduction, clit rubbing, p in v sex, clothed sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, dirty talk, size difference, size kink, belly bulge!!, sylus being soft as fuck at the end, use of "kitten" (sorry but i love it).

You were sulking.

You couldn't help it and you knew it was definitely childish of you to do so, but fuck you hated losing. You swore it was rigged, it had to be right? Every time you drew a card you felt like the world was against you. A bad streak, that’s all it was. There was no way you were this unlucky... not that many times in a row.

You had told yourself it was just a fun and light hearted way to pass the time but now? you wish you never agreed to it. You’d tried to keep it cool, tried to brush it off as nothing but the moment the Kitty Card's game had ended you had just snapped. Well, not snapped exactly but you had definitely mentally checked out. Arms crossed tightly over your chest, your lips forming a pout so exaggerated it almost hurt and you had been silent ever since.

You were silent all night, silent up until the moment you made it to your bedroom and angrily changed into your pyjamas. Your home was big enough to walk out your anger but you somehow still felt relentless.

Home.. it wasn't your home, more like a temporary home? Hell, you didn't know. You had regretted agreeing to stay with Sylus in the N109 zone already, despite only being here a month. A month too long...

Speaking of Sylus.

You didn't even want to look in his direction never mind speak to him. The silence in the living room was suffocating before you left and it seemed to drag on longer than it should’ve before the night started. It wasn’t like you hated being with him, that would’ve been easier. No, it was the complexity of your situation that left you conflicted. You didn’t even know what was happening anymore.

One moment, everything had been so simple - you had agreed to stay with him temporarily, just while he tried to convince you to join Onychinus and the next... well. You hadn't planned it, definitely not and you didn't even know how it had happened. 

You'd grown obsessed with him.

He’d made it clear that he wanted you to join Onychinus, but also understood it was a big commitment and he knew that you weren't ready to make that leap, not yet at least. So instead he offered you a place to stay, to show you what your life could be. He never pushed, for that you were grateful and you had to admit life wasn't too bad here in the N109 zone. You felt more at ease that was for sure.

You made a deal with him that first night he offered, that you would stay with him as long as he never let you go bored. As long as he kept you occupied and kept your mind busy. You were used to that, being a deepspace hunter meant you were busy constantly and your mind was never at rest. It was nice to be relaxed, nice not to do so much as you did back in Linkon but sometimes you found yourself too relaxed. Especially as of late.

For the most part Sylus kept his word of never letting you grow bored. He'd spent some days riding his bike around the city with you behind him, giving you a tour almost. Sometimes he'd take you into meetings, there you'd see his real leader side come out, and it was thanks to him that you grew fond of Kitty Cards. Until you weren't, until today.

He also kept you occupied in.. other ways.

One night two weeks ago you were both half a wine glass into your conversation, it had been a long day and you were tired but relaxed and content on the couch... until you grew restless and his lips looked too inviting. 

It was your fault, you knew that. You could blame it on his kindness while you stayed with him, or how gentle he was despite looking the opposite. You could blame it on his smooth voice, the way he was patient with you but you had no one to blame but yourself. You had stared at him for a second too long, a second too long to not even think about what you were doing.

One second you were next to him listening to him talk away about his plans for the week regarding business and the next thing you knew was that your hand was on his unfairly perfect jaw before bringing his lips to yours. It had happened so quickly, and you hadn't meant to kiss him but he had a certain pull to him that you couldn't resist so you acted in the moment.

You didn't imagine that it would go from a simple kiss to something that made you feel so alive. He had questioned you, asked your permission a few times before he was sliding into you and telling you how good you felt. He was determined even in bed, and you swear you've never had sex so good in your life it was addicting. He was addicting.

Everything about him was. His touch, his presence, the way he made you feel alive in ways you had long forgotten and you didn’t regret it, not really.. but you couldn’t help the way your thoughts had gotten tangled up since that night because recently you found yourself in his bed, pinned underneath him while his cock drove in and out of you.

But tonight, he'd pushed you too far.

He knew you hated losing, but even if he didn't he definitely knew now. That stupid smug look that looked really good on his face pissed you off to no end. This was a whole new level of frustration, and it only made you think about how childish you were being but you didn't care. It was embarrassing! How could he be so good, so lucky and you the opposite?

You’d never been great at hiding your emotions and right now, you felt like a sulking child. You could almost hear his voice in your head, the teasing and his stupid victorious tone when he told you I told you I was better as he packed away the cards. You thought you had moved past the competitive part of yourself, that part of you that always needed to win but apparently that was a lie.

You threw your pyjamas on with more force than necessary, the soft fabric feeling too suffocating against your skin before you threw yourself into bed, pulling the cover over your body. Stupid man.

You hadn’t heard him approach your room at first but you sensed him before the door was knocked and creaked open. You had heard a soft sigh, or maybe it was a playful scoff, you couldn't be sure but you were aware of the footsteps moving towards your bed. You tensed slightly, not willing to admit to him how childish you were being.

You were overreacting for sure, but maybe a small part of you wanted his attention.

For a moment, neither of you spoke and you couldn't see him, couldn't see the way he was studying you from behind but you could feel his eyes burning into your back.

Finally his voice broke the silence and his tone had a hint of amusement that you weren't sure you could stomach right now.

"Still sulking, hm?" You rolled your eyes at his tone "You know, I didn’t think that you were the type to hold a grudge, kitten"

Asshole.

You felt the muscles in your back tighten at his words but you kept your eyes fixed firmly ahead, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.

"Shut up.." you muttered and he would have just missed it if he wasn't paying so much attention to you. 

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head before staring at the ground, making his way toward your bed. You heard him move closer, the bed shifting beneath his weight as he settled down behind you and you clenched your jaw, feeling his warmth on your back.

His presence was suffocating but it was also frustratingly intoxicating. Sylus wasn’t the type to back off and he for sure wasn’t the type to leave you in peace either if he knew something was bothering you. 

His hand grazed the edge of the blanket, then it slowly crept toward your side, the lightest touch skimming near your arm. You sucked in a breath at the contact, instantly regretting it. He didn’t need any more encouragement.

"You're cute when you're upset," he murmured, his voice was low as he spoke "But I can’t let you stew in here all alone, kitten"

His fingers brushed the side of your arm, fiddling with the sleeve of your pyjama and you resisted the urge to shudder. 

"You don’t need to be here.."  you replied but even to your own ears it was weak, no fight at all. Your body betrayed you, inching slightly closer to him as if seeking the heat of his presence, even though your mind was still fighting to stay distant.

But Sylus was patient, always patient with you and he had an uncanny way of sensing when you were close to breaking. He didn’t push but he didn’t retreat from you either. His fingers slid just a fraction higher, brushing along your arm in a way that made you feel it everywhere.. beneath your skin, in the pit of your stomach.

He let the silence linger for a moment, savouring the way your breath hitched before his voice was back.

"Tell me kitten, what’s really bothering you?" His breath was hot against your ear, his lips brushing just close enough to your skin "Is it the game, or is it me?"

"It’s nothing.." you said. Liar. You didn’t need him to touch you like this, didn’t need the dangerous heat in his voice but every cell in your body was screaming for him to keep going.

His hand shifted again, moving with deliberate slowness as his fingers slid across your collarbone. He was so so gentle with you.. this big scary Onychinus leader here in your bed and skimming his hands over your skin like you were a delicate piece of art.

"You’re lying," he said softly and his usual smirk was unmistakable in his voice "But you don't have to tell me... I can figure it out on my own"

He moved slightly behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body pressed to your back, just inches from your skin. The temptation to lean into him, to let him pull you into him was overwhelming but you stayed still, fighting against it even though every part of you screamed to give in.

His hand slowly slipped over your shoulder, his fingers skating across the edge of your skin just grazing the side of your neck. 

"I think you’re just angry that you lost," he said, his words were teasing you as much as his hands were "But maybe.. maybe I can make it up to you"

You didn’t respond, you couldn’t. Your heart was racing and your body was betraying every instinct to stay in control. He knew exactly what he was doing, how to play with you, how to make you feel both frustrated and desperate for him at the same time. His lips hovered just above the soft curve of your neck and you felt the warmth of his breath.

"Let me make you forget," he whispered "Forget the game. Forget everything except... this. Us"

Your pulse quickened, your body trembling ever so slightly but you couldn’t help it. His presence, his touch, the heat radiating off of him it was too much. You were fighting against it but with every subtle movement, with every teasing caress, Sylus was making it harder and harder to resist.

His lips left a small kiss on your neck before his chest was fully against your back. His hand had reached your waist and you were aware of every second passing as it slipped lower and lower, beneath the blanket before his middle finger grazed the top of your shorts. Fuck him and his smooth talking.

You couldn’t help it. Your breath caught in your throat, a soft gasp slipping out before you could stop it. It was the slightest of sounds but it was enough, enough to make him pause, to make him smile against your skin knowing that you were crumbling.

"You’re not as good at pretending as you think kitten," he murmured, his lips brushing over your ear once more as his breath made your skin tingle "You want this. Don’t you?"

Yes. You did, so deliciously so.

"Sylus.."

His hand was between your legs before you knew it and he smiled against you as you gasped. His middle finger instantly on your clit and your own hand found its way to his wrist holding him there and you couldn’t stop the shiver that wracked your body.

He moved slowly at first, like he was mindlessly drawing circles on your skin but nothing about this was mindless. No, he knew what he was doing, he knew how to touch you right and he knew how to get under your skin. If he really wanted to you'd let him peel you apart just so he could crawl inside you.

You whimpered as he sped up, hips bucking involuntarily against his hand despite your best efforts to stay composed. You heard a hum of approval next to your ear before his teeth were attacking your lobe, your neck, your shoulder just anything he could reach and the feeling was overwhelming.

You gasped again when his fingers pressed just a little harder against you, more slick escaping you and no doubt ruining your shorts and thank god you had decided not to wear panties tonight.

"That’s it sweetheart," he whispered, his voice almost too soft to handle "Just let me take care of you"

You tried to shift your hips, seeking more from him but he tutted against your ear as if warning you not to do anything and now you were completely at his mercy. You whimpered in frustration and the low, wicked chuckle he gave in response made your stomach twist.

"Sylus, please.."

His fingers sped up at your plea and your mouth dropped open, your walls tightening around nothing as your clit gained all his attention. He pressed a firmer circle against you and your hands fisted the blankets desperately as your body bowed back into him, helpless against the way he was pulling you apart with such devastating ease.

His fingers moved in relentless circles now, keeping you teetering right at the edge of your orgasm and it was shameless how quickly you were almost there, how much power he had over your body in this moment. His other hand shifted underneath you, pushing in between the bed and your body before it slithered up and gripped your chin.

He twisted your head towards him, eyes meeting your own and he smiled at the dazed look on your face knowing it was him doing this to you.

"You don't even know how beautiful you are like this," he murmured, ruby eyes glancing down to your parted lips "So responsive... so perfect"

He pressed harder, quickened his pace and you were twitching now. The way he was holding you against him, your smaller frame at his mercy and the way his eyes were watching you like he was in a trance combined with how his hand was relentless against your clit.. it was too much for you to bear, too much for you to even function a thought never mind words.

You arched into him, seeking him out and needing more and the sight made him groan. You could do nothing but take it, grip his wrist tighter as his fingers burned against you. More Sylus, give me more...

You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting the burning in your throat and the overwhelming need curling tight in your chest. 

He was rubbing you with two fingers now and hissed at the feeling of you digging your nails into his wrist. He could tell you were close, from the way you twitching against him, the wetter his fingers got fuck you were a dream and he was utterly obsessed with you.

"I-Fuck I'm.." you couldn't even muster a sentence and you shifted your hips slightly.

His fingers were relentless now. Rubbing tight, merciless circles over your clit until your thighs were shaking, until you were clawing at the sheets before your whole body went tense as you finally met your end and thank god he decided not to edge you.

He held you tightly as you came, his fingers speeding up and helping you ride out a mind shattering orgasm, an orgasm that your own fingers could never bring. He pushed his head against yours, forehead meeting your cheek and he was panting against your skin, his wrist beginning to burn from his pace but there would be nothing that could stop him.

No matter how many times you shared moments like this, you'd never grow tired of the feeling of his fingers on you. Even now when your thighs were closed tightly against him, even as they slowed down their pace as you grew overstimulated.

You shivered against him, your body easing into his warmth and you opened your eyes to look at him. 

Sylus shifted behind you, his chest still pressed against your back, the rise and fall of his breathing slowly syncing with yours. You could feel his fingertips as they brushed down from your chin and over your neck, the gentle touch a contrast to the intensity of moments before. His movements were lazy now but they were deliberate in being tender with you.

"Hey," he whispered softly, your thighs still holding one of his hands hostage "You okay?"

You couldn't help but laugh slightly.

"Yeah.. Yeah I'm fine," you told him, grinning tiredly "I might have to let you beat me in Kitty Cards more often if this is my consolation.."

Sylus huffed a laugh, forehead pressing against yours.

"Yeah?" he replied, kissing your jaw, your cheek and finally your shoulder "If this is my reward kitten, you can lose every damn time"

"Although, I think.." you shifted again, feeling the hardness of his cock against your back. Your nose brushed against his, lips dangerously close to his own "I think you still have some making up to do"

"Is that so?" His gaze flickered down to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

"Mmhm," you murmured, his cock twitched at the softness in your voice but your eyes.. the way they were pleading at him had his heart beating out his chest "You're not off the hook just yet"

"Fuck, kitten.." his fingers rubbed against your clit lazily and you whimpered at the feeling, still too sensitive but you had no thoughts of stopping him "You don’t even realize what you do to me"

He was moving before you knew it, hand shifting from between the warmth of your thighs and he lay you down on your back, hovering over you with that familiar hunger in his eyes.

His hands were rough now, tearing the blanket away from your body and gripping your thighs to yank them apart like he couldn’t get enough of you and you let him, no resistance left, nothing but surrender and you couldn't help but smile up at him.

His lips met yours, gently at first as he savoured the taste of you and you let out a soft sigh, body responding to the warmth of his touch and annoyingly how perfect his lips fitted against your own. It didn't stay gentle for long, and the slow movements of his lips against yours turned rough, they turned desperate.

He moved over you further, body pressing down into you and rolling his hips over yours. He ensured that there was no space left between you and you were grateful for that, not wanting to be a centimetre away from him. The heat between you escalated and your breath caught, heart racing as his kiss grew more urgent, his tongue teasing at the seam of your lips demanding entry.

You couldn’t help but give in, opening your mouth and welcoming him in and of course his taste was intoxicating, it always was. You couldn't get enough of him, he could tell from how you eagerly responded to him, hands finding his shoulders, nails scratching his neck and any bit of skin you could get your hands on.

His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, over your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your breath catch. Every touch felt like fire and you wanted more, you needed more. 

Your head fell back against the pillow, exposing more of your skin to him. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer and your bodies were glued together, feeling everything. You could feel the hard press of his cock against your pussy, you felt his muscles against yours and it made you ache inside.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him up to meet your lips again. This kiss was desperate, it was as though you were both trying to consume each other whole and you wanted nothing more than that. He smiled against your lips, fingers skimming over the curve of your waist and up to your chest, pinching your nipples through your shirt and you whined against him. 

"Can't.. hm-can't wait anymore," your words were muffled and drowned out by his lips, he seemed to refuse to move them away from yours and as much as you weren't going to complain you needed him to do something "Need you, Sylus.. please"

A rough growl tore from his chest and his hands were off you in a second, rushing down to his waist before fiddling with his belt. You peppered his neck with kisses as he fought against his clothes, the leather around his waist proving to be a challenge and it was annoying him how much his hands were shaking from being here, from being here with you.

He cursed under his breath, still struggling and his cock twitched again when he heard you giggle against his neck.

"Sweetheart-"

"You strugglin, baby?"

He swore he could have came just from that, the weight of your words.. teasing him, calling him baby as your lips that he loved so much painted his neck in bruises but you made no move to help him.

He was beginning to ache and he had no idea why his belt was fighting so much against him when all he wanted was to be inside you, to please you like he always tried to do even out of the bedroom. He wanted to make you the happiest you had ever been, not just so you'd join Onychinus but so you'd stay here, with him.

Your hands distracted him as they pushed against his chest, making him lean back until he was kneeling on the bed and you were now sat up in front of him. His face was flushed, cheeks red with his hands falling away from his belt as he stared at you, the gentle smile you sent his way warmed his heart.

His face flushed deeper as he watched you, heart pounding in his chest. There was something about your smile, that warmth in your eyes that made him feel both exposed and wanted. He wasn't used to being this vulnerable, especially not with someone he cared about so much.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he murmured, his voice rougher than he meant.

The rawness of it caught him (and you) off guard but it was the truth. Every inch of you, every little detail that made you who you were and he hadn’t realized just how much he needed to say it until now, until this moment when his heart was so loud in his chest that he thought it might burst.

His eyes drifted down to your lips, your skin, the soft curve of your neck where he had left marks only moments before.

"Is that part of you making it up to me?" you whispered and he chuckled, shaking his head.

His hands reached out, holding your face gently before he leant in, kissing your lips  with a tender care that took your breath away.

"No just.. needed you to know sweetheart," he smiled then, pecking your lips once more before sighing against you "I am going to need your help with my belt though"

You couldn’t help but smile brightly at his words, leaning in to kiss him again. Your hands moved to his belt as you kissed him, unbuckling it slowly and moaning lightly against his lips. Sylus let out a soft groan as he felt the leather loosen, your small fingers moving the buttons of his trousers and he didn't give you a second to think before he was pushing you back down on the bed.

His hips rolled into yours and you both sighed at the feeling. His trousers were pushed down, resting in the middle of his thighs before you made quick work of pushing his boxers down to free his cock. It slapped his stomach after being released and he bit your bottom lip gently at the feeling, the head was pumping with adrenaline and desperate need to be inside you.

It seemed like you wanted the same thing, and you didn't let him or you get undressed. Your hand was wrapped around his cock before he knew it, giving him a few pumps before moving your shorts to the side and exposing your slick pussy to him.

It was a sight to see.. you in your pyjamas still, shorts pushed to the side while Sylus was also still dressed above you. Trousers and boxers resting on his thighs just enough to free his cock, hands all over you as you lined him up to your entrance.

He was pushing into you bit by bit, the stretch of him inside you felt amazing and it always did. You remember it was a struggle the first time he fucked you, but now your body was growing used to him. It still felt good though, the way he stretched you out the further he sank inside you and when he was fully inside you you had never felt so full.

He rested inside you for a moment, feeling the way he fit perfectly inside you, like you were made for him.

"Sy-"

Your words were cut off with a gasp as he thrusted hard, the wind being knocked from you as he snapped his hips forward. He pulled out once more before burying himself back inside you and you cried out from the feeling, nails digging into his skin and he groaned from the feeling of it.

You tried, you really tried to hold yourself together but it was useless.

Sylus was thrusting into you like his life depended on it, like the speed and roughness of his thrusts were crucial for him to breathe. There were no complaints from you...

Your breasts shifted under your shirt each time he thrusted and he watched carefully, one hand coming up to grip one of your nipples and you whimpered against him.

"C-Can't... fuck-you feel so good" his other hand was fisted in the sheets beside your head as he continued his thrusts and your ears perked up at the way he was whining against you "So good to me.. s'good sweetheart"

His voice broke into a groan when you clenched around him, his hips stuttering before he drove himself even deeper, grinding against you so hard you could feel the tremble in his thighs.

You could feel him in your stomach, the tip of him pushing against your insides and you knew if you looked down you'd see him there. Your stomach bulged out from the sheer size of him and you moaned when he rocked into you faster, forehead pressing against yours.

Sylus’ pace stuttered slightly, his breath coming in broken pants as he tried to slow down but your body squeezed him tighter, encouraging him to keep going. You felt the weight of his hips pressing down on yours, sending shocks of pleasure through your every nerve.

You arched up into him breathless, eyes half lidded as you moaned his name like a prayer.

"Sylus... please... harder"

His entire body tensed above you and without warning, his thrusts became erratic and frantic. He wasn't even sure if he could go harder but when you pulled his hair from a series of thrusts he did he knew he was doing what was asked. He'd do anything you asked.

His thrusts were fast and brutal and you could hear the wet, filthy sounds of him moving inside you, the bed creaking under the desperation of his pace. He was trembling, full body shaking above you and still, still he couldn't stop.. like the idea of pulling away from you would kill him on the spot.

He kissed you then, desperate and sloppy with teeth clashing against each other as you were both breathing so hard it felt like he was going to break apart and when you moaned into his mouth, he groaned so loud it vibrated against your ribs.

"I need-" he rasped, lips ghosting over your jaw "need to give you everything, baby.. need you to take it, need you to let me.. give it please"

The way he begged against your skin, the pure desperation in his voice made your entire body tighten around him and he felt it, he cried out against your throat as he drove into you harder, like he was pouring every piece of himself into you.

You moved against him instinctively, your body searching for that sweet friction that would finally bring relief. Sylus’ eyes locked with yours and in that moment, you saw the raw intensity reflected back at you.

"Can feel you, Sylus.." you held the top of his hand that was on your breast, moving it down your body and to your stomach and he felt the way that he was pushing your stomach up with each thrust.

Fuck.

"You’re-" a harsh grunt tore from him when your nails raked down his back "fuck, you're perfect... so perfect, made for me, made just for me"

His hand found your face, thumb stroking your cheek in a shaky motion while the other hand stayed on your stomach, pushing against his cock inside you and the whine that poured from your lips had him second guessing the thought of kissing you. He wanted to hear you, needed to hear you, needed to hear the sweet sounds fall from your mouth as he fucked you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper and his groan echoed through the room.

"Sylus," Your voice broke as the tension inside you coiled tighter, your chest heaving with each breath "I’m... I’m so close..."

He was moving like a man starved at this point, like the rough speed of his thrusts was the only thing keeping him alive. Your walls clenched around him even tighter and he almost sobbed against your skin, burying his head into your neck and his thrusts grew messier, less coordinated. He was falling apart inside you and it only made you cling to him harder.

"Yeah, that's it," he rasped against your ear, his thrusts growing just the tiniest bit deeper and dragging through your soaked cunt like he was savouring it. He felt you grow tighter and tighter around him "That's it.. just like that. My sweet sweet girl..."

The words spilled from him like a confession and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your throat as his rhythm grew wild, more desperate. 

You were gone. You could barely breathe, barely think, reduced to soft whines and gasps as he fucked you fast and deep, like he was determined to melt you down until there was nothing left but the feeling of him inside you.

The way his body moved against yours, the rhythmic grind of his hips, the feel of his hands on you, pushing against the bulge in your stomach it all blurred together into one single, intoxicating movement. He was pulling more from you than you knew you could give but you couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold back. You wanted him, needed him to fill you completely.

"Don't stop-god please don't stop.."

"Cum for me, sweetheart"

And you did, you shattered around him with a broken cry, clinging to him like you were drowning and he was the only thing keeping you afloat. Your body convulsed around him, squeezing him so tight that he swore viciously against your neck. You were completely lost to him, your mind clouded by the overwhelming pleasure.

Your whole body was twitching underneath him and when your nails raked down his back under his shirt he found himself spilling inside you with a low groan, face pushing against your throat like he needed to hide his vulnerability away from you in that moment but he knew he shouldn't, he knew he should never hide from you.

For a moment neither of you moved, the two of you pressed together, breathing heavy and laboured. Sylus was still nested deep inside you, his body weight settling gently against yours as if unwilling to pull away and it felt as though the world outside no longer existed.

Sylus kissed your neck, then moved up to your cheek and finally met your lips, each kiss gentle compared to the rough thrusts he just delivered and you had to pull away to catch your breath.

"Wow.." you found yourself saying, earning a quiet chuckle from the man above you.

"Wow," he repeated, smiling down at you and brushing his thumb against your cheek "Am I forgiven now, kitten?"

You couldn't help but laugh, truly laugh at his response and the movement made his cock shift inside you, softening now. You looked like a dream beneath him, hair spread out on the pillow, cheeks flushed and lips red from where he had kissed you. If he could frame this moment, he would.

"I'm considering it.." your tone was softer now, hand coming up and brushing away the hair that stuck to his forehead as you stared at him "You're beautiful, Sylus"

His breath caught in his chest. Beautiful? The word felt foreign when attached to him but hearing it from you, with that softness in your voice, made his chest tighten. He swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.

His gaze dropped for a brief moment, his eyes flicking over the way your body was still pressed under his, the way you had opened up to him, both physically and emotionally. There was no pretending, no facades between the two of you right now and it felt real. The fact that you found him beautiful.. well, it made something inside him soften in a way he hadn’t expected. 

Sylus finally let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and he lowered his head, resting it lightly against your shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his guard down a little more.

"You're..." He paused, gathering his thoughts and then he chuckled softly "You're something else, kitten"

His hand came up, blindly brushing your hair back from your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw and you let him. If this moment right here was a special perk of staying in the N109 zone, then you'd take up his offer of joining Onychinus any day. 

And maybe, just maybe.. you should let him beat you in Kitty Cards more often.

[sirxlla]

OKAY IVE SEEN SOO MANY BATBOYS SHOWING READER THEIR SCARS

BUT

Reader showing batboys their scars!!!

Could be from anything preferably past abuse something

Showing Him Your Scars (Batboys)

------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Prompt: above ^^^^

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Dick: Working together on the force for so long allowed the both of you to get close. Your doctor recommended that you have someone take care of you and the Captian told Dick it's his job to make sure I won't do anything stupid or try to heal from a stab wound you got in your arm, it's nothing bad, it'll heal in time but its making doing just about anything a pain in the ass including changing.

"I can help, Y/N. Let me. It's got to be painful. Let me help you change...Look, I'll even close my eyes if you want." Dick closed his eyes to show you he was honest, even covering his eyes like a kid which made you smile.

"No, it's fine, Dick. I'd rather you have your eyes open to do this. The last thing we need to do is irritate this wound any further." You said before Dick uncovered and opened his eyes and gently guided your shirt off making sure to be incredibly careful of the wound on your arm. His eyes scanned all the other scars on your torso; he's surprised at the sheer amount of scars you have.

"I think you might look more badass than I do." He gently traces a scar on your back. "I remember almost all of these, I didn't know your wounds were this bad."

"Yeah, but you know...sometimes you can't stop just for the sake of it; bad guys need to get caught."

"Yeah but not at the expense of you. You're way too valuable to keep getting hurt"

"Yeah? To who?" You asked with a bit of anger; you felt like you were always taking care of everyone else, but no one took care of you, and Dick answered you with one single word that meant everything.

"Me." His blue eyes gazed into with nothing but pure sincerity.

Jason: Jason was always nervous about anyone seeing any of his scars; once you happened to see them, he froze in nervousness. Would you think he's weird or ugly because of the scars that litter his skin? As you noticed the worry in his eyes, you very slowly brought your eyes to meet his as you slipped your shirt off.

Jason's eyes widen as he sees the scar that runs down the middle of your chest and disappears between your breasts.

"I had open heart surgery when I was a teenager. I used to hate it, but without it, I'd be dead or a much different person. Scars tell a story, a path to now." You said as you reached your hand out to touch his autopsy scar; it's so similar to yours but different. Just as beautiful.

"Can- Can I?" Jason asks as he reaches his hand out slowly to the scar on your chest. "It- It's beautiful."

"Well, if mine are, then yours have to be too. They're pretty badass." You smiled and showed him a few smaller ones that you'd gotten for dumb stuff but the way you embraced them made him feel so much better about his. You gently kissed the scar on his chest and in time he'd see his scars the same way you see yours.

Bruce: Anyone who's been around Bruce for any amount of time knows how many scars he had. Little did he know you had plenty of your own, so one day, as you were over at his place, you had asked him about scars and what he'd think if you had some.

"I suppose that depends on the scars, Love." His blue eyes gazed into yours with a bit of worry. "You have scars?"

"Don't judge okay?" You asked as you lifted your shirt and showed him the scars on your back; they looked like burns. Bruce's fingers grazed over what appeared at a closer glance to be cigarette burns.

"I wanted to show you before you found out when I was changing or sex or something...My dad he- he used to put them out on my back when I was a kid. Every guy I've ever been with just kinda laughs a bit."

"They laughed? Darling, this isn't something to laugh at; I mean, if you want to, then by all means, that's fine, but no one else should laugh at your pain." His fingers graze over them gently; he doesn't know what to say, so he says the first thing on his mind. "They don't distract from your beauty for even a second."

Your shoulders fall as you relax against his touch; he isn't blaming you or laughing or making you think you're ugly for the ugly actions of your father. He's amazing, he's reassuring and he's one of the best men you've ever known.

Tim: "What's the scar above your lip?" He asks you randomly as he rests his head in your lap, looking up at you.

"What sca- Oh! Um...It's super stupid, but when I was a kid, I liked to dance on the coffee table at my Grandmas and I busted my lip open...Grandma said I barely cried, and the next day, I was back to dancing on the table." You laughed as the memories flashed behind your eyelids.

"You never told me you were such a good dancer." Tim smiled back as he teased you.

"No, I was awful." You pulled down your shirt a little to show off the scar on your collarbone. "This was from ballet class, I did too many spins and smacked into the mirror. There's so many all over, just my clumsiness or dancing or both."

"So no dancing for you, I suppose. Either that or I get some really thick shoes, and then you can just stand on my feet, and I can do all the work." Tim teased a little as his eyes scanned your scars slowly as he took a moment to imagine the things you told him.

Damian: Training in the League isn't for the weak; real swords are used and real wounds are created. Damian knew you probably had several scars but you'd never showed them to him. He was curious and wondered if the number he had might be similar to yours.

"Can I see your scars?" He asked while the both of you were spending quality time reading together.

"My scars?"

"Yeah, I just wanna see if we have about the same amount."

"Yeah, I don't mind. I guess?" You pulled your long-sleeve shirt off as he pulled his off. Damian's eyes widened as he noticed how you had at least triple the scars that he did from training.

"They didn't put Lazarus water on the deep ones?" They had usually put Lazarus water on Damian's wounds if they were deep enough, he thought that they did that for everyone.

"Only if it hits bone." You corrected him, they never wasted a drop of Lazarus unless it was life for death for the regular soldiers in the League.

"Oh." Damian was surprised but also not. His grandfather wouldn't have wanted the Demon's Head to be littered with scars; he needed to look like he was better than them all. Damian runs his fingers over your scars on your back and he made himself a promise as well as you. "Things are gonna be different when I'm leading the League."

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