#this was so rushed i had to write it the second i got the idea for it

[erodasfishtacos]

Is It Casual? || FWB!H ||

prompt: it's casual, right? but god, it really doesn't feel that way

word count: 6k

warnings: subspace, lack of aftercare, angst, lack of communication

author's note:

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The bar was clearing out, trivia night had come to a conclusion, and everything was winding down.

The big chalkboard in the corner still displayed the final scores, a lopsided tally where “Team Niall” had tragically lost by two points.

It was Tuesday night and everyone had work the next day which meant that there was a rush through the door and left them as the last ones to filter out because they always tended to lollygag even though most of them had early mornings.

The group of friends were all saying their goodbyes.

YN stood with Georgia near the AC vent, arm linked through hers for warmth because the cold blast from above made her huddle in closer.

Hailee and Jessa were a few feet away, still laughing about the last round of questions, and how the boys were such sore losers at every turn.

Someone always tended to leave Trivia night with their feelings hurt.

Niall, Harry, and Mitch were all arguing about the question that had them lose the game.

“Why the fuck would you say Delaware?” Harry scolds as he runs his hand through his hair, a scowl that was saved for Niall and Niall alone, “It's not even a fucking city. It's a state.”

“I got confused! Delaware is the smallest state!” Niall defends putting his hands up, pinks cheek from the beer he's had.

“No, it's really fucking not. It's Rhode Island!” Harry shouts back at him with exasperation, hands thrown up in annoyance, “Come on!”

“You're off the team,” Mitch adds in, monotone and bored as he tugged his keys out from his jean pocket - slowly but obviously trying to see himself out of the argument.

“That's bullshit! We're literally named Team Niall,” He argues with wide disbelieving eyes.

“It's not hard to change the name,” Harry adds in, agreeing with Mitch, and an annoyed roll of his eyes because even though the two have been friends since diapers - they fought more than middle school girls and made up just as quickly.

“Okay, well we work tomorrow morning and have seen enough of this cat fight,” Hailee announces as she wraps her hand around Mitch’s wrist, guiding her boyfriend towards the door.

Jessa trailed behind, waving goodnight to everyone with an amused smile tugging at her lips.

Niall is mumbling about unfair treatment as they all start heading towards the door.

“You did good,” Harry manages to slip next to YN, bumping her hip and then glancing over at Georgia, “You too. I didn't know about Montana's state flower.”

“Better do some studying before next Tuesday,” Georgia quips as she throws her arm around YN, who just laughs softly.

“You did a good job too, Harry,” YN compliments as she leads Georgia towards where they parked next to each other.

“Thanks,” He replies with a slight smile, he pauses as he realizes his car is next to Niall’s on the other side of the lot, “I'll see you guys next Tuesday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” YN said, both she and Georgia giving a small wave as he headed off.

“You two should totally date,” Georgia says as soon as Harry is out of earshot, glancing back quickly to double check, “You'd be so cute together.”

YN shakes her head with an annoyed scowl towards her friend, “We both just got out of long-term relationships. I don't think that would be a good idea.”

Georgia made a dismissive sound, clicking her tongue, “Harry’s been broken up with Lauren for, what, four months? You and Ben ended things at least three ago.”

YN bit the inside of her cheek, the familiar tightness crawling up her chest, “You literally just think we should date because we’re both single.”

“And you guys would look hot together,” Georgia doesn't disagree with her accusation, “I mean…look at him. He's insanely fit. He carried four drinks with one hand!”

YN had noticed. 

She wasn’t blind. 

She remembered the way his hand had dwarfed the copper mug as he slid the Moscow Mule in front of her before passing out three other beer bottles.

And the size of his hands… yeah, she noticed that too.

“No, I'm not looking for a relationship and I doubt he is either,” YN reiterates as they get to their cars, “He's nice but I'm not ready to commit again.”

Georgia scoffed, pressing the button on her key fob - her car chirped and blinked to life, “Who said anything about commitment? I said a date, not a full ass wedding.”

“Goodnight, George,” YN sighed, her tone exasperated but affectionate, she unlocked her own car with a quiet beep,“I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Georgia groaned, slumping dramatically with a frown coating her features, “I’ve got that god-awful presentation. You better pretend to care.”

“Always do,” YN said with a laugh as she slipped into the driver’s seat, glad the conversation had moved on. 

Her head was already too full, her thoughts spiraling the moment Harry came up.

Ben.

Just the name made her temples throb, an implosion that she was trying to avoid because it made her head hurt at least once a day, sometimes more if she thought about him for too long.

It's been three months and it's been amazing to be out of a relationship with an immature man child who got insecure when she went to trivia night so he always tagged along, needed to be included when he hated trivia and rarely ever answered correctly.

So yeah, it had been a relief. 

Being single was better than babysitting a grown man’s ego.

Georgia blew her a kiss before backing out of the parking spot with a little screech of tires. 

YN gave her the middle finger with a smirk before starting her own engine.

It seems like every week now she was bringing it up, trying to play matchmaker for two people who were healing from heartbreaks.

YN only knows a little about the break-up.

Lauren rarely came to trivia. 

When she did, she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. 

YN knew that Harry had ended it, even though it was hard—he’d said once, in a rare vulnerable moment, that he wanted someone he could build a life with. 

Lauren didn’t want that.

She hadn’t gone easily either. 

She’d shown up at trivia twice post-breakup, trying to win him back. 

Each time, the group acted like they weren’t watching as Harry gently pulled her aside, voice low and kind, guiding her to the other side of the bar before walking her out to her car.

Ben had shown up a few times too, clumsy and bitter, trying to stake some kind of claim.

That hadn’t ended as well as with Lauren.

It didn’t end quietly because Niall and Mitch had to guide him out of the bar while Harry stood between them to make sure that Ben didn’t approach her again - acting as her makeshift bodyguard.

So now Georgia was rooting for two broken people to get together—not necessarily out of romance, but maybe just because the group missed their spark.

Missed the way YN used to laugh, the way Harry used to be sharper, quicker.

+ few minutes later +

“Hips up, come on. You’ve been teasing all night,” Harry grunts, voice low and rough the moment the backseat door thuds closed behind them.

There’s no hesitation—he’s already on her.

His hands at the waist of her skirt, fumbling big hands trying to find the zipper as he bullies her further into the space until her back hits the opposite door.

YN has to remind herself that she's just romanticizing this whole situation because it's her first time having a sexual relationship with someone she's not dating.

She convinces herself the excitement is what makes their chemistry so magnetic and nothing else but she knows she never felt like this with Ben or any other partner.

“Wasn't teasing,” YN manages to get out but she was already breathless, eager in a way she's never been with sex, her thighs dampening was a new sensation.

“No?” His tone is almost mocking, but laced with something darker—something feral, his fingers finally land on the zipper at her side, tugging it slowly down with infuriating precision, “Then your cunt isn’t needy? Am I reading the signs wrong?”

Her breath hitches.

God, she should be annoyed. 

She should be offended.

 But the filth coming from his mouth only fuels the heat already pooling low in her belly. 

The way he says it—so confident, so cocky lights her up in a way she didn’t know words could.

“What signs?” YN pushes back because their back and forth only build up her arousal even further, searching for more dirty words out of his mouth.

Harry leans in, his mouth a breath away from her ear. 

His words send a full-body shiver down her spine.

“The way you watched my mouth all night,” Harry murmurs, voice thick and gravelly. 

His fingers press insistently into the soft, plush flesh just above the waistband of her tight skirt, “Saw you clench your thighs when I took off my coat.”

“You’re full of yourself,” YN manages, but the protest comes out barely above a whisper. 

Her fingers curl into the fabric of his jacketat his shoulder, grounding herself in him because it still doesn't feel real—being able to touch him like this, have him this close. 

There’s something that happens when she’s with Harry—this overwhelming impatience, a hunger that feels heavier, more intense than lust.

Like if she doesn’t get his hands on her, in her, she might actually combust. 

“So you didn't want this? Haven't been looking forward to Trivia night for this?” Harry has this cocky smile on his face, his fingers haven't move at all from her waist and it was making her tick.

“Didn’t cross my mind once,” YN bites out, teeth clenched, her toes curling inside her boots, heels digging into the expensive leather of the car seat. 

Her body is aching to be touched—every inch of her buzzing with restless need but she’s trying to keep control of the dynamic. 

Barely.

Harry narrows his eyes slightly, amusement and heat flickering behind them as he begins to pull back.

 The shift is subtle, but she feels the loss instantly—his weight, his warmth. 

And that just won’t do.

Before he can move another inch, her other hand snaps up to grab at his jacket, fisting the fabric roughly and yanking him back toward her. 

Their lips collide in a kiss so heated it steals the breath from her lungs.

His hand flies up to cup the side of her face, fingers splayed against her cheek and jaw, holding her in place like he’s claiming her. 

The way he kisses her—hungry and messy and unrelenting, it feels like he’s trying to devour her, like he earned her mouth, like he owns it.

“Admit it,” Harry’s mouth is still against hers, barely separating to speak before he's dipping his tongue back into her mouth like he can't help himself.

“No,” YN chases after his tongue as he pulls back, trying to follow his lips because they were addictive and she wanted more.

Harry doesn’t let her take.

He sits back just enough, his body still caging her in, but now his eyes are on fire. 

That same molten look she’s only ever seen when he’s like this—turned on and completely focused.

“Why are you being difficult, honey?” Harry hums as he moves to cup her knees where they're bent around him, ghosting down her right, and dancing along the hem of her skirt, “I know what you want. Don't need to be ashamed of it.”

YN feels a swoop on her stomach, the way he spoke never managed to not get her even more turned on for him, and the whole dynamic of feeling this aroused and playful was new.

“Then give it to me,” YN huffs out as she hitches her hips impatiently,  blinking down at him - she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

He reaches up and captures one of her wrists, the same one curled tight into his jacket. 

Gently but deliberately, he pries it free and guides it downward. 

With his other hand, he hikes her skirt up, bunching the fabric at her hips until she’s fully exposed, her thighs spread, her breath trembling in her throat.

Then he moves her hand between her legs.

It takes her breath away—literally. 

Her gasp cuts sharply through the close air of the backseat, a startled, needy sound as her own fingertips brush the soaked heat of her thong.

Harry doesn’t look away from her, not for a second. 

She can’t help the shudder that racks through her when her fingers press more firmly to her clit.

It’s not the same as when it’s his hands on her, his mouth. 

But it still eases the throbbing, even if just a little.

“Feel nice, sweet girl?”  Harry nearly croons, it sounds fonder than it should for what they're doing, what they are, and aren't to each other, “You're filthy, touching yourself like this in front of me.”

There’s something unbearably hot about the way he guides her, how he’s using her fingers to pleasure herself the way he wants.

She opens her mouth to throw the insult back at him, to call him filthy, but all that escapes is a whimper as he withdraws her hand suddenly.

He holds it between them, his grip gentle but commanding. 

Her slick glistens on her fingertips under the dim lights filtering through the foggy windows.

“Not wet for me?” Harry asks, cocking a brow with mock innocence.

“No,” she replies with a bratty edge, her chin lifting in defiance. 

She’s proud of the attitude—but it doesn’t last long.

Because without missing a beat, Harry brings her hand up to her face, rubbing her soaked fingertips across her lips until her own arousal glosses them.

He doesn’t stop there.

Harry leans in and presses his mouth to hers again, tongue sweeping over the same place he’d just marked with her slick. 

It’s possessive, greedy.

He licks into her mouth like he’s starving, and the kiss nearly sends her reeling.

“Please, I was wet for you all night,” YN finally gives in, “Was thinking about this.”

There’s no point in pretending anymore. 

She knows how patient he can be.

Harry doesn’t rush. 

He waits, teases, stretches her thin until she’s begging—and she always breaks first.

“About what? Getting your needy cunt touched?” Harry laughs meanly , albeit pleased that she relented because then he can really start being a menace, “Do you think about it all week? Do you think about me all week?”

She should say no. 

She should lie. 

Because she does think about him, not just the sex. 

His laugh, his stupid jokes, the way he looks when he’s concentrating on a trivia question.

But she doesn’t tell him that. 

She can’t.

“I want to come,” YN says instead because it seems safer than telling him the truth, she bucks her hips upwards towards his center but doesn't make contact.

“And I want you to behave,” Harry grunts with annoyance in his tone, hands coming to press her hips back down with a harshness that she hadn't had from previous partners.

She loved it.

She lets out a soft moan at the contact, even as frustration builds. 

She wishes they weren’t crammed into the backseat of his car. 

Wishes she could be stretched out on his bed, bare and unhurried, with his full weight pressing her into the mattress.

“I’ll be good,” YN says, her voice gone kitten-soft and breathy. 

It surprises even her, the way it sounds—submissive and sweet. 

Not like her at all.

“Show me what I want to see then. Be a good girl,” Harry sits back, his eyes tracing over her body, and resting down on the thick of her thigh - squeezing.

YN briefly wonders if this is how Harry had been with Lauren - dominant but attentive, and that's a twist of jealousy in her stomach that she'd rather not consider right now.

The skirt is already bunched at her waist, fabric wrinkled and forgotten. 

Her hand trembles slightly as she dips back down to her center, hooking the gusset of her thong around her fingers and tugging it aside.

It was nerve-wracking to expose the most private part of herself to the man she was crushing on so deeply, had been for so long, and even though he's seen her like this before - it still hadn't become any less intimidating.

“Fuck,” Harry curses when she does so, his hand coming down to almost curiously roll her swollen, hard bud until his thumb, “So puffy f’me. Never seen a prettier pussy.”

And it's probably just a line, he has said those words to the girls that came before her but it still boosted her ego quite a bit.

Emboldened, YN arches her hips into his touch, a pretty moan slipping out as her head tilts back, exposing the soft, pale column of her throat.

“Desperate for my touch, huh?” Harry rasps, ghosting down to tease around her entrance, not dipping in but gathering the wetness there.

“If you don't make me come soon, i'll go back in that bar and get Will,” YN threans with her own smile because she knew he wouldn't like that, “He would get me off.”

Will was one of the DJ’s who ran trivia and he had taken quite a liking to YN, had made it known, and had asked her out a few times.

Harry didn't outwardly admit jealousy but would make snarky comments about how pathetic Will was, how annoying he was, and how he just needed to do his job.

His expression hardens instantly, brows furrowing, top lip curling. 

“You think Will could get you off?” He snaps, glancing up from where his fingers still hover just shy of her cunt, “That fucker doesn’t even know where the clit is. You’d be getting licked out until next year.”

“It’d still be quicker than how long it takes you to get me off,” YN shoots back, chin tilted.

Her pulse is thundering in her ears—because she’s poking the bear, and she knows it.

Harry’s easy to rile when it comes to showing off.

He never backs down when his pride is challenged.

His jaw ticks once, eyes narrowing. 

Then, in a flash, he's had enough.

“Stop fuckin’ running your mouth,” Harry hisses finally hitting his breaking point, it was impressive because he rarely got to that point this quickly.

Before she can fire off another comeback, Harry grips her hips and yanks her down the seat, until she’s lying flat, skirt bunched at her waist, legs parted. 

The leather squeaks under her, echoing in the silence of the car.

His hands grips her ass, firm and rough, pulling her pelvis up until she arches toward him—and then he’s there, his mouth crashing onto her with no warning.

YN cries out as his lips close around her clit, tugging it into his mouth with punishing accuracy. 

Her body jolts, trying to flinch back from the intense pressure, but his grip tightens—keeping her locked in place and leaving her no room to wriggle away.

Harry’s nose nudges against her mound, his lips and tongue relentless, like a man feral.

He barely comes up for air, working her over with deep, rhythmic licks and suction that feel like they’re pulling the pleasure straight from the source.

YN reaches down to grab at him, fingers tangled in his curls as she pushes into his mouth before trying to shy away.

He moves one hand from her ass, thumbing over her seam before he's nudging two fingers in until he can pet at the front of her inner walls, scissoring them to make her feel the light, welcome stretch.

“Ye-yeah,” YN can only gasp as the stimulation grows more quickly than she's used to, his fingers and mouth are so knowledgeable , know exactly what their doing, “Oh, I'm clo-close, H.”

His eyes flick up to her, barely visible from this angle, but the glint in them is unmistakable—dark, electric.

His mouth never lets up, tongue lapping at her, lips sealing around her clit again in a rhythm that has her thighs trembling.

His fingers pump into her at a steady, sure pace, and he knows she’s right at the edge.

And then he stops.

Just like that.

He lets her drop back to the leather seat, slick and desperate, the cool air hitting her exposed skin. 

She blinks in disbelief, mouth open in shock, hips twitching in search of the sensation that vanished too fast, and watches as he rubs his face against the calf that was hooked over his shoulder.

Harry’s the filthy one, really, because he runs his tongue over where he'd just wiped off her arousal without any shame.

“No, no,” YN complains desperately, she had been so fucking close, tryin to hold it at that delicious almost there bliss for as long as possible and it was starting to fizzle, “No, I didn't come- Harry, I didn't-”

Harry comes to cup her jaw, effectively shutting her up with a thumb pressed roughly against her lip.

“If only our friends knew what a mouthy, greedy lil’ thing you are,” Harry admonishes as he tugs down her bottom lip, his nose nearly brushing hers, “I know you didn’t come, silly girl. I didn’t want you to.”

“But why?” YN snaps at him, the sensitivity was continuing to fizzle out like a sparkler come to the end of it’s life, and it left this unsettled, uncomfortable ache that she was never used to feeling because if a partner was getting her that close - she didn’t have the luxury to edge or she wouldn’t get it back then she just wouldn’t come that time when they had sex.

Harry doesn’t answer with words at first.

His hand drops sharply to her inner thigh, a slap of dominance that makes her yelp—not from pain exactly, but the sting of surprise, of being handled like that.

“Because I said so,” Harry retorts lowly, teeth clenched as his brow draw further together, “I don’t think you’ve earned it. Not sweet ‘nough for me yet.”

“I’m sweet, I’m sweet,” YN knows she sounds like a begging puppy but he was the only person who brought of this desperation in her, this unhinged beahvior where she had no shame because she wanted him so much more than she wanted to keep her dignity. 

Harry’s face softens—just a little. 

His gaze travels over her flushed face, her trembling body, her wide, needy eyes. 

Something fond flickers in his expression, just for a beat, and it makes her chest ache.

“Are you?” He murmurs, voice gone almost gentle in contrast. “How are you gonna show me?”

YN nudges forward to steal a kiss, relieved when he allows it but only for a moment before he’s biting down on her lip as punishment.

Her hand comes down to his center, gripping at him through the tight denim of his jeans, and it made her confidence skyrocket when she felt how rock hard he was for her, twitching underneath her palm at the unexpected touch.

“I’ll suck you,” YN tells him, it’s nowhere near the filth that he spills out but it still felt so foreign rolling off of her tongue, “Please, I want you in my mouth.”

“You’re already getting sweeter,” Harry croons as he bats her hand away, moving to unbutton his jeans, and shove them as well as his briefs down his thighs - he was intimidating, the size - the length and girth of him was enough to stretch the corner of her lips and make them ache, she remembers how it felt last week when she had swallowed him down and made her eyes water.

They’d only been doing this for a few weeks, with a break in between during the holidays when there was no trivia, and she still wasn’t use to handle someone as well endowed as him, her eyes had gone wide the first time she’d seen how pretty he was and he had given her this sleazy, proud smile at the time.

Harry wraps a hand around the base of his cock, thumb brushing the slick head. 

Her breath hitches. 

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t ask. 

That she’d wait for him to initiate.

But they hadn’t had penetrative sex yet, sure they’d only hooked up in his car a total of three times now but it hadn’t come up, he hadn’t mentioned even one word of it yet, and she realizes just how much she has been craving him, having him fill her up in a way she’d never felt before.

“C’mon, darling. You’re been so good for me now,” Harry hums as he thumbs over the ruddy, wet tip, it was welcoming, tempting.

“No, I -” YN cuts off because she wants to stop herself, she told herself she wouldn’t, “Want you to fuck me.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, his composed facial expression fades momentarily with the surprise of her words, and his hand stops on his length, “Fuck you?”

“Yes,” YN tries to sound sure of herself but it’s faltering, because she’s not.

“And you’ve earned that?” Harry prompts, his cool demeanor right back in place, the shock disappearing just as fast as it had happened, “Or are you being selfish and trying to get out of sucking cock now that you’ve gotten your own?”

YN’s brow furrow, “I didn’t come though.”

Harry snickers, boyishly because he’s getting off of this, “I forgot, your mouthiness has me distracted.”

And looking back, YN thinks this is what people talk about when they use the term subspace.

She’s never felt like this—never felt safe enough to let go.

Because she’d never experienced it before this point but something in her just breaks, she feels floaty and unashamed - there’s no insecurity, no worries about how desperate she’s acting because all she can thinking about is Harry.

It’s an arousal that clouds anything logical and it feels like she’s in the clouds, drifting and weightless, and that’s she’s fully relying on him to take control.

Tears prickle in the corners of her eyes, not from sadness, but from sheer overwhelm.

“Want it,” she whispers, voice cracking, “Please. I’ll s—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Harry hushes softly, his tone is more like his normal cadence and not that deep, horny rasp that he gets, “Honey, are you alright?”

YN swallows, her fingers dug into his arms, “Just want t’come.”

Harry laughs quietly, it’s one of the nicest sounds that she’s ever heard, and right now it seems like the most beautiful music to her ears.

“Okay, pretty,” Harry simpers, his demeanor shifts into something more careful, more cautious as he helps pull her up, “Not many ways to do it comfortably in here.”

Invite me back, please.

Is her needy thought, she wants to be spread out on his bed.

But his next words shut down that hope.

“Will you ride me?”

It’s not really a question. 

He’s already guiding her, and she follows without fussing. 

She doesn’t have time to mourn—he’s sitting back, pulling her into his lap, and her thighs bracket his hips as she lowers down, the thick, flushed head of him brushing against her folds.

The sight of it is obscene.

She wishes she could take a picture, frame it, live inside this moment where he’s so hard and she’s so desperate, spread open and slick with need.

YN’s impatient, she’s never felt so needy in her life, and she couldn’t believe they were actually about to have sex because even when she was with Ben - she fantasized about this more than she’d ever willingly admit to anyone, especially him.

YN goes to grip at him, to guide him but he bumps her out of the way to do it himself, his other hand comes up to cup her cheek, “Tell me what you want.”

“You, want you,” YN babbles, willing to say just about anything if that means that he’ll stop drawing this out.

Harry shakes his head, his expression suddenly serious, and voice more firm, “No, YN. What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck me, I want you to fuck me - oh,” YN cuts out with a high-pitched moan because he’s painting himself down towards to press into her folds, thumping against her clit once before he’s tucking himself inside, and once his tip has breached his hands move to her hips to start moving her to sit down on him.

And it stretches, more intense than it’s ever felt with her partners in the past but it wasn’t painful, it was just a new sensation of accommodating, and he was bringing her down slowly, pushing her skirt higher up so he could grip her bare hips.

“Jesus,” Harry grunts out, it’s louder than he’s been since they had piled into his car, startling in the otherwise quiet space apart from their heavy breathing.

YN’s eyes widen, glancing up at him, and she’s knows she must just be moony-eyed, looking at him like he was the best thing in the world, her hair was falling into her eyes, startening to dampen as it got hotter, more humid in the confined area.

Harry lets out a low chuckle, his hand come to pet the hair back and behind her eye, voice hushed and sweet as maple syrup, “I’m sorry, sorry honey, didn’t mean to startle you. You just feel so good.”

“Yeah?” YN blinks at him, it was hard to keep anything straight but he was filling her up so fucking well that she didn’t feel like she was about to rip at the seams anymore.

Harry laughs again, happy and private as he bumps his forehead against hers, “Yeah.”

YN doesn’t do much of the work, her limbs are jello and the way Harry utilizes his grip on her hips has him doing the heavy lifting, hitting her spot dead on every single time, and his rhytmn isn’t fast but it’s steady, consistent, and hard.

There’s tears trickling down her cheeks as her orgasm starts to build again, faster than expected, and she actually feels a swoop of disappointment because it she doesn’t want it to be over when it feels like it really just began.

Her clit brushes up against his pubic bone, smearing her slick there as it gives her the perfect friction, and her fingertips are digging into the skin of his clothed shoulder because he was still fully dressed and that didn’t feel quite right but it was too late now.

“Can feel you squeezin’ on me,” Harry hums as he brings her down and sits her there, stops her hips from moving as he plants his feet and starts to thrust up into her, “Are you close, sweetheart? Do you need help?”

YN shakes her head, sniffling slightly as she rolls her hips into his thrusts, “Don’t wan’na.”

Harry doesn’t stop all together but he slows his rhythm, “Don’t want to what, honey? Talk to me.”

“Don’t want to come, don’t want it to be over,” YN admits as she blinks through the film at him and the look he has on his face, well it’s one that she’s never seen before but her brain isn’t in the place to be able to decipher that right now.

“I’ll give you another,” Harry promises, his hands slipping down to grip her bum and pull her even fruther into his lap until their chests are pressing together, tilting his head up to bite at the underside of her jaw, “I’ve earned a squeeze though, haven’t I? Get me wet, darling.”

And YN wishes those words didn’t get to her as easily as they did but it works, her hilts jittling to a stop as she grinds harshly into him, head falling backwards, and he starts sucking a mark right at the center of her throat that she can’t even start to be mad about.

“You’re so pretty, never seen anything prettier on my cock,” Harry groans as he picks up his thrusts, she was sensitive, it didn’t feel as pleasant but she still wanted it, wanted to feel how much he wanted her, and he was throbbing, “Fuck, where do you -”

“In me,” YN’s hand cups the nape of his neck, it felt like there was no other thoughts in her mind.

“Fuckin’ christ,” Harry responds as he squeezes her backside hard enough that she feels pinpricks of pain, knowing it was going to leave marks, and being happy about that, a memento from the best sex of her life, “How’d I get so lucky to get you on me?”

YN doesn’t have time to respond, wasn’t going to anyways when she feels him start to pulse, twitch as he starts to come, his hips slowing to a sluggish pace as he starts to come down from it, panting as sweat beads on his forehead - it was hot, sticky in the car now after all the physical activity.

Harry moves quicker than she can keep up with, plopping her back onto the seat and pinning her against the door as he wedges himself between her thighs.

It’s filthy, it’s something she’s never had anyone do but he swipes at her entrance, tasting himself before he’s wrapping his lips around her bud, and starting that tortuous pulsing that he’d done prior, only this time it doesn’t take more than a minute because she’s already hypersensitive from the first orgasm and he doesn’t tease.

No, instead he rides her through it, chasing after her like a starving man when she rears her hips away, and whines after she’s rode it out, “Too much.”

She was still floating, still teary as Harry wipes her up with a clean gym towel he had in his duffel, hands her an unopened bottle water before helping hero ut of the backseat, and walking her towards her car with a hand on her lower back.

He gives her a hug that seems far to platonic for what they just did, things suddenly awkward like they have been after every single time they’ve done this, and then he’s opening her car door and waving ‘bye’ before he’s heading back to his own.

YN doesn’t know why she starts crying as soon as she pulls out of the lot, why she has to park on a side road because her brain isn’t cooperating, and the pit of emptiness in her chest that wasn’t there prior was now gnawing away at her.

[golddustwomanwins]

Hey there! I had this thought in my head when I saw the picture (provided below), it really made me think of you for some reason (especially since you are writing say yes to heaven!)

So... it's about Very Conservative Seminarian!Art (training to become a priest) & Liberal Novice!Reader (training to become nun/sister)

... and get this - they actually study at the same Catholic university campus. So even though the Seminarian!Art & Novice!Reader have their own programs, housing, and schedules since they're preparing for their own paths, they're still able to see each other since they're located in the same place. (You can make them like they're childhood friends, and their families are very, very religious (like religious to the point they have pastors, priests, nuns, etc in their families), and they got sent to the university at the same time because her family kinda religiously guilt-tripped her to go. She eagerly told her family she'd go when she found Art was going to the Catholic university, and maybe, she still have a crush on Art.) Well was thinking this as a freaky fic too btw. 😔

IDK IF U WILL FW THIS but... maybe consider 👉👈

Eden

First of all, I wouldn't know what to do without your ideas, they're always top tier. Second of all, I don't know if I like how this turned out but it took me so long that I'm just going to post it. Third--and last--I know nothing about christianity and if I say nothing I mean nothing. Which means some things could be inaccurate, I'm trying my best here.

Ps: I do see everyone’s asks and I will write for all of you it just takes me ages to get to it

Seminarian Art Donaldson x Novice Reader

18 +

Dry magnolia leaves crunched under your soles as you rushed through the courtyard. It was a windy day today, a breeze rustling your long skirt, your hands darting up to keep your coif from bustling off. Your notes were clutched to your chest as you refrained from cursing.

The courtyard was empty, every trainee already in their respective classes. You’d told your mother you had to go multiple times but once she got you on the phone she wouldn’t stop until she squeezed every single piece of information out of you. Usually you enjoyed spending some time talking to her, especially since she went to this same university back in her days.

It was rewarding to hear her talk about the same stony halls she had wandered when she was your age, the classes she took and Sister Marianne, who still ruled with the same iron fist she did back in the nineties.

But today you were already late as you had to help your roommate with some of her tasks and really it was your fault. Blaming your mother was only avoiding taking responsibility.

You rushed along the cobble stones, past the arched pathway and over the little stone bridge, the wind picking up as if to spite you. You stumbled slightly over the hem of your skirt, a relieved sigh escaping your lips as the entrance to the west wing came into view.

You accelerated your steps, frowning slightly when you saw the oak, wooden door was slightly ajar. Usually the novices were careful to keep it closed. Once a raccoon made its way inside the walls of St. Harriet and it had to take Sister Marianne as well as Father Christopher, the lead professor of the joined university for young seminarians, to get the whole family of raccoons outdoors again.

You wondered if you came across the wrong door but no, the same ivy clad walls, golden door handle that you had to jiggle a few times until it gave away and finally let you in.

Read cheeked and out of breath you stepped through the threshold, soft heels clicking slightly.

“Ahh—fuckk,” you flinched as you started to round the corner of the hall, thinking someone needed help. Your rushed steps came to a harsh stop as you barely rounded the corner and came upon two lone figures.

At first you didn’t realize what was happening. A girl on her knees, skirt pillowing her skin from the cold ground, her head bobbing back and forth. A boy was standing in front of her, familiar golden curls falling into his pale face as he leaned his head back against the stone column.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed another moan, eyes closed in ecstasy. His hand found its way into the hair of the novice, guiding her head along and just then you realize what her plump lips had wrapped around, soft gagging sounds dropping from her mouth. Drool was pooling along her lips, spreading down onto his cock and past her chin, drip, drip, dripping onto her neckerchief.

Wetness pooled between your thighs but you were to surprised to notice as you stumbled a step back, gasping. Two heads flew around, but you only could look at one pair of eyes as they burning you straight through your soul.

“Christ,” Art went to tuck himself away, already half across the hall to you but you were faster. You rushed back the way you came, face burning with shame.

You stumbled forward, the wind now at full force as it blew against you, Art rushing onto the courtyard behind you.

“Wait a second!” At the sound of his steps you only ran faster not daring to look behind you as you rushed along. Your heart was beating rapidly, only wanting to get back to the dorms and thankfully they came into view pretty quickly.

Art cursed behind you. “Would you wait a second, damnit.”

You flinched at his words, risking a glance behind you. Art was in his civil clothes, belt still unbuckled, cheeks reddened from the wind or his former activities. Your eyes widened when you realized how close he was and you pushed yourself to go faster. Your heel caught in a raised cobblestone, making you stumble forward.

If it weren’t for Art hastily grabbing your wrist, you would’ve busted open your chin. Before you could protest Art pulled you into the church hall, a few students meddling about, some whispering soft prayers.

“Art—“ you tried to protest but he tugged you along, nudging the curtains of the confessional away before sneaking you inside. He closed the curtains and bathed you both into darkness.

You stumbled into his chest, inhaling sharply as the confessional filled with the scent of him. You blinked, surprised for a moment. You could barely make out Art’s face, only seeing the red splotches on his cheeks, glistening slightly with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I know it was wrong, I’ve been trying to stop I swear.”

“Trying to stop?” You gasped. “You mean it happened more than once?”

Art’s hands came up to grip your shoulders. “You cannot tell anyone about this.”

“Who am I supposed to tell? Your father? And you’re seriously worried about me snitching?” You huffed. “Art, I just watched a girl suck your dick.”

Art flinched and shook his head, choking out a sob. “Don’t—don’t say it like that.”

“How else do you want me to say it?”

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. Never. I know I deserve punishment, I know I’m the worst. Just don’t—“

“Don’t what?” You frowned. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

To be fair it did hurt you seeing Art with another girl. You always thought you knew him inside out. You did know him your whole life.

He was the sole reason you had applied to St. Harriets. Well, partially as well because of your mother and father, wanting you to study what almost everyone in your family had studied. You weren't exactly excited to become a novice but with the sight of Art being at the same university, studying to become a priest you had jumped on the wagon all to quickly.

Priest Donaldson, Art's father, had lived right next door and your family were friends with him. You had spent all of your childhood hiding in the confessionals with Art, giggling and drawing with crayons, begging for ice cream after mass and hanging out in your rooms listening to music while in your teenage years. Art was your best friend.

He understood what it meant to live in a family were religion was the center of the universe. While your family was devoted, a few nuns and priests spread here a there Art's family was the real deal. Not one of his father's family was not a priest or pastor, not one woman was not either a Sister or a devoted housewife, visiting church Monday through Sunday.

Sometimes the both of you would lay in Art's backyard, smushing daisies beneath your backs as you stared into the cloud filled sky.

"Do you sometimes imagine how we would turn out if our families weren't as strict?" Art had asked you that day. It was his sixteenth birthday and he was slowly growing into his teenage features, jaw squaring, shoulders broadening. You didn't know when it happened but there was this new glimmer in his eyes the past weeks when he looked at you. His smile was deeper but more quiet. Instead of showing full teeth he'd only tip one corner of his mouth up and it would make your stomach flip strangely.

He was watching you intently, waiting for your answer. You huffed, cheeks staining red as you looked back up at the clouds.

"I try not to."

"Why not?" Art turned on his side to watch you. You shivered slightly at the attention and swallowed.

"Because it doesn't matter," you turned to look at him. "We grew up in this family and we'll die in it. Our path is destined." He snorted then. "You don't think we could change our path? Decide for ourselves?" You frowned slightly. "Would you want to?”

"Would you want to?" His eyes dipped lower down your face, not answering your question. You knew you wanted to. If your parents weren't as strict you'd be leaving for the next best college studying, literature or art. Something liberating and free. But your parents were your parents and...leaving them also meant leaving Art.

So you shook your head, watched the light dim in Art's eyes. "No," you said. "I want this life." Looking back now you wondered if Art hat questioned his faith back then already. You had only answered that way because you thought it was what he wanted to hear. Art never missed mass, never cursed, never drank or fraternized. He'd never even had a girlfriend, even though most of the girls in town did sent him flirty smiles, hands resting on his biceps for way too long.

You thought if you'd mold yourself into the perfect girl, into a girl Art could fall for, you'd spent the rest of your life with him. How wrong you were. Back in the confessional you looked at Art, the golden crucifix dangling from his neck like a bad omen.

“How often did it happen?” You asked and were caught off guard when Art suddenly sunk to his knees. He gripped your hips desperately, pressing his forehead against your tummy.

“Art, get up.”

He shook his head. “No. No I deserve penance I will do better, I swear.”

“Art,” you tried to pry him off you but he has an iron grip on you.

“I am not mad,” you huffed. “You don’t need to confess to me.”

“But I have to,” Art protested and looked up at you. A ray of sun creeped through the wooden screen and revealed to you the little speck of brown in his blue eyes.

“Let me repent,” he whispered. Your breath hitched when his hands wandered to the hem of your dress.

“Art,” you tried to stop him but he brushed your hands way.

“You’re the only one who can take my sin,” Art said as he slowly lifted the hem of your dress. You helped him holding the various skirts up as he guided you onto the wooden bank.

“You’re the only one powerful enough to ease the pain,” you didn’t know if he was still crying but you couldn’t care less when he pressed a tender kiss to your left knee.

He followed up with the right, before running his teeth over your knee stockings. “Fuck,” he sighed. “I always wondered what you were wearing beneath your skirts.”

You shivered at his words tugging him upwards by his curls. Art looked at you pleadingly, devotion shining in his eyes. “If you want to repent you better get to it before someone really needs the confessionals.”

He nodded eagerly before his hands gripped your plain panties and pulled them to your knees. Without further hesitation he put his hot mouth on your cunt, tongue darting out to taste you.

You both moaned in sync and you quickly slapped your hand onto your mouth to refrain from anyone hearing you. Arts grip was bruising as he guided your hips along, dragging your clit against his straight nose and making you shiver.

“Oh fuck,” you whispered, clutching at his hair desperately as you started to rock your hips. You didn’t know how Art knew but when he pushed two fingers inside your wet cunt, stars burst in front of your eyes.

Was this what he was doing all the time? You always thought he was an uptight, rigorous follower of his father’s rules. How could ever know that he’d be this…perfect?

The wooden bench creaked beneath you as Art moved you along, moaning against your core.

“Taste like Heaven,” he mumbled as he sucked at your clit, wet sounds sounding as his fingers fucked you quickly. “I’ve thought about this my whole life.”

“Art,” you whimpered. Your hips started to hump quicker, Art barely needed to move as you used him to your liking.

When he felt your walls growing tighter and tighter he started to curl his fingers.

“Oh—-oh yes, fuck,” the creaking of the bench grew more insistent, wet sloppy sounds echoing and Arts soft whimpers urging you on.

“You gotta cum for me, baby,” Art. “Please let me make you feel good. It’s the only way I’ll earn forgiveness.”

Without needing to hold back, you burst on his fingers and tongue, head thrown back and thumping against the wooden walls. Art continued fucking you with his fingers until your body was all twitchy and sweat slick.

Art kissed your cunt gently before pulling your underwear back in place and crawling up your body.

His chin and nose was glistening with your cum, pupils blown wide. His hands came up to your cheeks and he leaned in to kiss you softly. This kiss was slow and lazy, all tongue and spit.

You sighed softly, heart strings thrumming at the taste of him.

Your hands wandered over the hard plains of his chest before dipping into his slacks but he caught your wrists quickly.

You looked at him surprised, seeing his cheeks flush.

“I already…” he grimaced, embarrassed and you chuckled pulling him in to peck his lips.

“‘S all right I’ll help you next time,” you promised and Art looked at you like you hung the moon for him.

Your fingers intertwined and you smiled happily at him.

“You forgive me then?” He was looking at you with wide eyes and you quickly realized that he had been serious. He needed your forgiveness to move on and you were selfish enough to use his guilt for your own gain.

Gripping his chin between your fingers your tilted Art’s face the way you liked, just because you could.

“Show me what else you can do and I’ll consider it.”

[lonely-ey3s]

With All My Love : Chapter 15 | fresh start

Chapter 15 : Fresh Start

Pairings: joel miller x f!reader (no outbreak)

Word count: 8.1k

Chapter Summary: Christmas season in the Miller's involves eloping, family dinners, the best morning sex of your life and oh yeah — cinnamon rolls.

Chapter warnings: FLUFF, joel being an absolute lover, soft!joel, mentions of pregnancy, anxiety, use of Spanish but with translations, use of y/n, SMUT (18+ MDNI), praise kink, f!receiving oral.

a/n: i'm sorry this one took so long. with writing ride or die and heartlines lets just say inspiration struck! epilogue will be posted sometime in the next week or two, i have an idea in mind but want it to end perfectly. thanks for all your support with this story - i'm sad to see them come to an end

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics 

Main Masterlist

1 week before Christmas

The morning felt like magic — that quiet, weightless sort of magic where everything around you hums with the promise of something life-changing. The sunlight spilled through the windows, soft and golden, making your little house glow.

It smelled like coffee and fresh flowers. Something Maria had bought for you and everyone else to wear to make it feel just a little bit like an actual wedding. 

Somewhere down the hall, Sarah’s giggles floated through the air as Elena and Maria helped her with her hair. 

You stood barefoot in front of the mirror in your bedroom, smoothing your hands over the simple white dress you’d chosen — soft satin, a little fitted at the top before flowing down gently over your small baby bump.

Behind you, the door creaked open.

"Jesus, mi amor..." Joel’s voice was low and full of something that made my whole body flush. "You look... perfect."

You turned to find him standing there, wearing a black suit that fit him as if it had been made just for him. His tie hung a little loose around his neck, like he hadn’t quite finished getting ready because he couldn’t wait to see you. He’d cut his hair since Thanksgiving. He still looked rugged, even though his hair was tousled and a little messy when styled, yet he was put together. 

"You’re not looking too bad yourself, Mr. Almost-My-Husband," you teased, smoothing his lapel, softly straightening his tie.

He caught your hand and kissed it, his lips lingering against your knuckles like he needed the connection.

 "Come here," he murmured, pulling you into his arms carefully, his hand naturally resting against the curve of your bump that you both already adored. Its name changed with each ultrasound or update on the baby app Joel had on his phone — which provided adorable updates here and there on the baby's progress. Currently, the little one has been deemed ‘peach’ – last week, it was ‘plum’.

"How are you and little Peach doin’ today, mi vida?" he asked quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You smiled, the kind of smile that felt stitched into your bones. "We’re doin’ good. Little one is being good today, no morning sickness, no headaches… one could assume they know the importance of today..."

He hummed and smiled lovingly, "That's comforting to hear... I'm glad you're doin' good Mrs. Miller..." he whispered softly then his lips brushed against yours at first, soft and careful, like he was savoring the moment, like he didn’t want to rush even a second of it. 

You leaned into him instinctively, "Mmm, you've got to wait at least another hour before you call me that baby..." you whispered back against his lips when he pulled away for a moment.

He nudged your nose and hummed, "Not soon enough my love..."

You moved your hands to rest against his chest, where you could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palms before leaning back in to kiss him again.

He deepened the kiss slowly, his mouth moving with yours, patient but full of the kind of love that burned steady and strong.

His thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your cheekbone, grounding you, anchoring you to him.

The world outside the bedroom faded away — the laughter, the music, even the nervous excitement of the morning — until there was just this.

Just the two of you.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you a little breathless but smiling like you knew exactly what you both were walking toward.

"I love you," he whispered, so quietly it felt like a secret meant just for me.

A sharp knock sounded on the doorframe.

"Ok you two, calm down…" Sarah said, grinning at you both with one eyebrow raised. "If you two don’t move it, we’re gonna miss the ceremony!"

You laughed breathlessly and turned toward her, Joel adjusting to wrap his arms around you from behind and lean his chin on your shoulder. 

She leaned against the door with a crooked smile, holding a delicate bouquet in her hands. 

She looked so beautiful — wearing a gorgeous dark red dress you picked out together, her hair pinned back into a lovely bun that Maria and Elena must’ve helped her with. 

"You look beautiful, sweets," You said, feeling my throat tighten, tears stinging your eyeline as you looked at her.

She blushed and shrugged. "Thanks, mom..."

From down the hall, Maria called, "We’re ready whenever you guys are! Your mom says if we’re late, she’ll hold you personally responsible, Joel!"

Joel smirked and kissed your cheek. "Let’s not give my mom an excuse to tackle me on the courthouse steps."

You laughed and took a deep breath. "Agreed, " you said as you reached to take his hand and headed downstairs after Sarah.

In the living room, the group bustled, laughter and excitement in the air. There were smiles everywhere, soft murmurs of excitement.

Cameras being checked. Ties being straightened.

They were all too busy to notice you and Joel at the bottom of the stairs, his arms wrapped around you from behind once again.

He kissed your temple and whispered, “Ready, mi vida?” he rubbed your bump softly.

You nodded, pressing your hand over his.

“More than ready.”

The drive to the courthouse was a blur of laughter, soft music on the radio, and the feeling of his fingers laced tightly with yours across the console. Sarah sat in the backseat, humming along to the radio and clutching the small bouquet of wildflowers that Maria had brought for her. Elena sat next to her and watched the two of you with nothing but pride and love for her son and now you, her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. 

Every time you glanced over at him, you caught him smiling — that wide, boyish smile that melted any nerves you might’ve had. He reached over and put his hand over your belly at the last stoplight before the courthouse, and for a moment, you thought you might have seen him tear up. 

When you pulled up, the courthouse wasn’t grand or decorated, just a simple brick building tucked into the heart of town. But it felt monumental to you; this was it. This was the day — you were stepping into a new chapter, one you and Joel had written carefully, lovingly, together.

Tommy and Bill’s trucks were parked close to Joel’s in the small parking lot, and you could already hear Bill fussing over how excited Frank was for the whole ordeal before you’d gotten out saying things like 'This ain't our damn weddin', will you calm down?' and 'Yes you look fine, my god!'. 

Frank had been over almost every day for the past week. He, Rose, and Maria had been helping you put together a small get-together for afterwards — a small dinner party. You’d been dealing with extreme exhaustion for the last couple of weeks. On top of the holidays and part-time photo shoots, you barely had any energy left, but they stepped up. 

Joel helped you out of the truck, his hand strong and steady under yours, and for a second, you both just stood there, smiling lovingly at each other. The rest of the family was utterly oblivious to your missing presence as they continued to walk inside. 

The afternoon air was crisp but not cold, and the sky stretched wide and impossibly blue above both of you. He leaned in close, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat.

"You ready to become Mrs. Miller?" he murmured against your skin.

You smiled, your whole heart swelling so big it felt like you might float away. "I've been ready since the moment you picked me up at the airport — literally picked me up..." you lightly giggled.

Something in his gaze shifted — deepened — and without hesitation, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you.

It wasn’t soft or tentative. It was deep, hungry, like he needed you to feel every ounce of what he couldn’t put into words for today.

His lips moved over yours with a slow, searing intensity, his hand moving to hold the back of your neck, the other hand sliding down to splay across the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

You melted into him, clutching the lapels of his suit jacket, completely forgetting for a moment that we were standing in a parking lot with your family nearby.

When you both finally pulled apart, breathless and a little dazed, he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "God, I love you. I’m so happy you’re gonna be my wife."

You smiled widely and reached up to touch his cheek, “I love you, too.” 

He took one more moment where it was just you two before his hand was laced with yours, and started walking toward the courthouse.

Tommy smiled as he held the doors open. “You two ready?” he grinned. 

Joel let you in first before he touched Tommy’s shoulder and chuckled, “You have no idea, little brother...” 

Inside, the room was small and simple. It had polished wood floors and large windows that let in the morning light. A few other couples waited in hushed excitement, but somehow it felt like the whole building was holding its breath just for you two.

You and Joel stood in line together. Everyone else in your family lined the benches behind to watch.

He turned toward you, slipping your hand into his. His thumb traced gentle circles against your knuckles as the officiant spoke, joining another couple ahead of you. He kissed your temple then whispered, “I have somethin’ for you…” 

You blushed and looked up at him, “Oh? What’s that?” 

He chuckled softly and then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bracelet, one with sapphires around its chain. He took your hand and held up your wrist, softly whispering as he clasped it onto you. “Somethin’ new, somethin’ used, somethin’ borrowed, somethin’ blue…” 

You smiled and looked down at your wrist, then back up at him, whispering, “I… Joel, where…” You found yourself stumbling over your words, speechless. 

He kissed your knuckles gently, “Mama gave it to me last night, making it for us – somethin’ new... also she used it on her wedding day, making it somethin’ used." he looked down at it and fixed the chain shyly, "I’ve been instructed that after we use it, it’ll be Maria’s turn, so technically somethin’ borrowed. Then the obvious, somethin’ blue.” He smiled as his eyes met yours for a moment. 

You nodded and looked down as you turned your wrist, making the light bounce off the sapphires. “I love it…”

He kissed your forehead gently, then retook your hand into his and turned back to listen to the officiant as they read the vows for the couple in front of you.

A few minutes later, the officiant smiled as she looked at you and Joel, “Please step forward….” 

The officiant, a warm-looking woman with kind eyes, smiled at the two of you as you stood hand-in-hand as you walked up to stand in front of her. 

"Today," she began, her voice steady and warm, "is a celebration of love, commitment, friendship, family, and two people who have found their home in each other."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle gently over you both.

"Marriage is a promise. A promise to stand together through every chapter — the ones filled with laughter and joy, and the ones that test your strength. It is choosing each other, every single day, with your whole heart."

She looked between you and Joel and smiled.

"You have chosen to elope today, to make this about what matters most — the two of you, your bond, and the beautiful life you are building together."

Turning to Joel, she said softly, "Joel, do you have vows you'd like to read?"

Joel nodded, squeezing your hand lightly, then turned to take the left one in his. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. His thumb brushed over your knuckles like he needed the contact.

He cleared his throat, a little unsteady, and looked right at you.

"I used to think love had to be hard to mean something. That it had to be complicated, messy... impossible, even. After Sarah’s mom, I never thought it’d be something I’d get to experience it…" he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"But then I met you. And loving you — God, it was like breathing. It was the first time it all made sense."

He paused, blinking quickly.

He smiled and looked down at your hand in his, grounding himself, then looked back up at you, "I vow to always make you feel seen, heard, and cherished. To hold your hand through the chaos, and dance with you through the calm. I vow to be the man you and our family deserve, even when it’s hard or I'm tired — even when the world feels heavy. I vow to love you, exactly as you are, for the rest of my life — and beyond that, if I’m lucky." 

You barely managed to hold back the tears blurring your vision, you nodded at him and gently squeezed his hand, letting him know you heard every single word.

The officiant then gave you a soft nod.

"And now, your vows."

You took a shaky breath, my voice trembling but strong. You let out a small chuckle as you reached into a pocket within your dress and pulled out a piece of paper. 

You softly cleared your throat and kept hold of Joel’s hand. "I spent so many years wondering if I was too much or not enough. So many years alone, never having a family, feeling loved... I never dreamed I'd be standing before my friends and family marrying the love of my life. I saw... the complete opposite." You said softly, feeling your heart in your throat.

"But you looked at me and you found me. You healed something in me that I didn’t know could be healed. You made me believe that maybe love wasn’t something that required magic or wishes on stars... or for us — you just needed to write a letter to a stranger in Texas when you join a pen pal group with your army bunkie..." You softly let out a laugh, which made him chuckle as well. 

You squeezed his hands tighter.

"Joel, I vow to love you in all the ways that matter — with patience, with passion, with laughter, and with loyalty. I vow to stand with you through every storm and celebrate every sunny day. I vow to be your biggest fan, your comfort and safety, and your biggest support. And most of all, I vow to build a life with you that our children will be proud to call home."

You caught sight of Sarah in the front row, subtly wiping at her eyes. It made you smile through your own tears as they fell down your cheeks.

You muttered as you wiped your eyes, “Stupid hormones…” 

Joel let out a chuckle as tears fell down his cheeks. His hands holding onto yours firmly, trying to ground you both in this moment. 

The officiant gave you both a moment, her own eyes a little glassy.

"Marriage is not about finding someone you can live with," she said gently. "It’s about finding the one person you can't live without."

She smiled warmly. “Do you have rings to exchange for this next part?” 

Joel nodded and looked towards Sarah, “Sweetheart?” his voice broke. 

Sarah reached to give him a pouch that contained both the rings you had gotten for each other.

The officiant smiled and looked at him first, placing the ring in his hand.

"Joel, as you place this ring on her finger, please repeat after me."

Joel took your hand, steady despite the tears shining in his eyes.

He slid the ring slowly onto your finger as he said:

"With this ring, I promise you my heart, my soul, and all that I am. I choose you, today and every day, for all the days of my life."

The officiant smiled and turned to you, placing the second ring into your hand.

"And now, would you repeat after me?"

You took his left hand, the one that had held yours through so much already, and slipped the ring onto his finger slowly as you repeated, voice thick with emotion:

"With this ring, I give you my heart and my hand. I choose you, today and every day, for all the days of my life."

The officiant looked between you both, her voice a little softer now, as she felt the weight of the moment.

"Joel, do you take her to be your lawfully wedded wife — to love, honor, and cherish her, from this day forward?"

Joel’s eyes never left yours as he said, sure and full of every vow he carried in his heart, 

"I do."

She turned to you, her voice beaming.

"And do you take him to be your lawfully wedded husband — to love, honor, and cherish him, from this day forward?"

Your voice didn’t shake — it soared, full of love and certainty.

"I do."

You and Joel looked back at each other and smiled lovingly in each other's eyes, saying more than you both could ever put into words in your vows, but both understood wholeheartedly. 

The officiant’s face lit up with a wide, joyful smile as she gently touched your hands, which were joined in the middle. "By the power vested in me by the great state of Texas, it is my honor and my joy to pronounce you husband and wife."

Joel grinned, that boyish, heart-melting grin, and pulled you into him without hesitation.

"You may kiss your bride," the officiant said happily, moving aside as Sarah stood to capture photos of the moment, tears of happiness streaming down her face. 

Joel’s hand was already at the small of your back, the other moved up to cradle your jaw with a tenderness that made your knees wobble. He pulled you in close, like he couldn't stand even an inch of space between the two of you any longer. 

Everything around you slowed down and became muted. All that was there was the two of you. 

His lips met yours with a sweetness that grew deeper, more sure. You melted into him, your arms sliding around his neck, fingertips threading through the soft hair at his nape. 

His thumb brushed slow, reverent circles against your cheekbone, anchoring you as the kiss deepened — slow and passionate, full of all the promises you didn’t have to say out loud anymore.

You could feel the heat of his chest against yours, his hand moving gently up your spine like he needed to feel every part of you to believe this was real.

When you both reluctantly pulled apart, he didn’t let go—not entirely. He kept his forehead resting against yours, breathing you in as if you were something sacred.

"Eres mi cielo…" (You are my heaven) he whispered, his voice breaking a little on the words.

You smiled through the burn of tears in my eyes, running my thumb over his jawline, feeling the scratch of stubble there — familiar and perfect.

"Tu eres mi todo…" (You are my everything) You whispered back, your voice steady, certain.

He smiled, that soft, private smile he only ever gave you. Then, without a word, he lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your knuckles and rings, holding your hand like it were something precious.

He then moved and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear — his fingertips brushing your skin with a featherlight touch — and you felt a lump rise in your throat all over again.

"You’re my whole world, you know that?" he murmured, voice thick and low.

"And you're mine," You breathed.

The cheers and laughter from your family finally broke through, and he gave my hand one last squeeze before turning with you toward them — but he never once let go.

And just like that, it had all begun. 

Forever. 

Sarah and Maria offered to take a few romantic and intimate photos of you and Joel while you were in the courthouse, you also asked someone to take a big group photo as well, wanting everyone in the photo.

Afterwards, you all drove back home to spend the rest of the day together celebrating. 

Once home and inside, you went upstairs to change into something more comfortable. 

Joel had been pinned in the living room by his mom, Rose, and Bill, all of them asking him for details about your last ultrasound the other day, wanting to see pictures. 

Lately you’d been feeling hot and had issues with sweating so getting into something like a cotton sundress versus the silk one you’d had on seemed more than ideal. 

You headed back downstairs to grab a snack as you started to feel a little nauseous.

After grabbing some apple slices you leaned up against the wall and watched your dearest friends and family buzz about the events of today and the last few months. 

After you and Joel announced your sweet bundle of joy, everyone in this room was ready and involved for whatever you needed. 

Rose ran over herbal teas and baby books every other day. When Joel was at work she’d come over to give you company or just to check in. 

Elena called every day and came every weekend for dinner and a movie night. She would end up in the guest room every time but it was everything you could have wanted. You were happy she was so happy and involved. She was also very reassuring when funny things happened to your body, that it was mostly all natural. Always so comforting to let you and Joel know that everything will be ok. 

Tommy and Maria seemed to be the most involved. Maria drove you to your last appointment since your nausea was so bad, as Joel got caught up at work and had to meet you there. She and Tommy called every day and showed up whenever Joel or you said something was off. Tommy stepped up at work so Joel could settle down and be more available for you. The two were yours and Joel's rock.

Bill and Frank were surprisingly just as involved. Bill had already claimed he was going to make you guys a crib and was texting you both with updates. It was sweet — no matter how cold he wanted to seem, Bill had the biggest heart. 

Lastly Sarah. Your pride and joy. She attended the last few ultrasounds with you and Joel; after you told her — she was ecstatic about having a sibling. Some days, she’d velcro herself to you and want to talk to the baby or listen to its heartbeat with a little Doppler monitor. One that you guys got on the internet after a moment of panic about a month ago when you were lightly spotting, thinking you were losing the baby. Let's just say one late-night hospital trip later, and Joel ordered one with overnight shipping. 

You smiled and rubbed your belly as they all were chatting and laughing about heaven knows what – but whatever the topic, it was making them all happy. 

That’s when it hit you fast, you almost didn't realize what was happening.

One second, you were standing there, mindlessly snacking on the last apple slice, and the next — a sharp, tearing pain bloomed along the side of your belly, so fierce it stole your breath. 

You gasped and grabbed the side of the wall for balance, the apple slice hitting the floor.

‘What was that?’

You pressed a hand against the place it hurt, right where your skin stretched taut over the curve of your growing bump. The pain stabbed again, deep and sudden, and a wave of panic washed over you, cold and full of awful thoughts.

‘Is something wrong with the baby?’ 

Your heart dropped. 

‘Am I going into early labor?’

‘Was I — God, what if something was wrong?’

Your mind spiraled so quickly, you barely heard Joel's voice at first, calling your name from the couch he was sitting on next to Elena and Rose. 

You tried to straighten up, tried to breathe through it, but another jolt of pain had you bending forward slightly, blinking fast against the prickle of tears.

"Hey, hey," Joel was suddenly right there, hands bracketing your arms, his face going pale as he took one look at you. "What’s wrong? What happened? Baby, talk to me…"

"I—I don't know," You managed, clutching his sleeve. "My side. It just— it hurts. Bad."

His eyes went wide, full of instant worry, but he kept his voice low and steady, grounding you.

"Okay. It's alright. Breathe, baby. I'm right here," he encouraged.

Everyone’s attention quickly shifted towards you and Joel, the energy moving from light and happy to panic and concern. The room suddenly quieted down.

You nodded, trying to force yourself to calm down, but your mind was a thousand steps ahead — hospital rooms, doctors shaking their heads, everything going wrong. You pressed your hand harder against the sore spot, willing the pain to ease.

Slowly, after a few long breaths, the stabbing edge of it dulled to a tight, pulling ache — uncomfortable, but not as terrifying. You finally dared to look up at Joel, your voice small and quiet.

"Maybe it's just... stretching?" You said, though it sounded like a question. You had read somewhere that growing pains could happen — round ligament pain, wasn’t that what it was called? — but now, in the middle of it, it felt so much bigger and scarier.

Joel cupped your face gently, brushing your hair back.

"Let's call the doctor anyway," he said without hesitation, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Just to be sure. Okay?"

You nodded again, heart still hammering, but starting to settle now that you weren’t alone in the fear. 

His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, steady and warm, and you leaned into his touch. “Go sit down with mom and Sarah, I’ll have Maria get you some water and I’ll call Dr. Benson, yes?” 

You nodded and went to sit on the couch with Elena and Sarah. Maria did as Joel said and went to get you some water. Tommy went over to stand by Joel while he called the doctor, anxiously pacing with him in the kitchen. 

After several tense minutes, Joel came out from the kitchen with a soft smile, kneeling in front of you. He leaned in and softly kissed your stomach, “You were right. Just growing pains…” he looked up at you with those soft brown eyes. 

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. You looked down at him and touched his cheek before laying your head back and taking a deep breath as you put your hand on your stomach.

‘Everything is ok. Little peach is perfectly fine.’

Christmas Eve

The house had finally fallen quiet.

The soft twinkle of the Christmas tree lights still glowed downstairs, casting tiny golden reflections against the walls — presents laid neatly under the tree, stockings stuffed, and the magic of Christmas sprinkled in the little details. 

You lay curled against Joel in bed, your forehead tucked into the warm curve of his neck, feeling the steady, grounding rhythm of his breathing as he slowly traced shapes into your back with his fingertips.

His other hand was resting protectively over the gentle swell of your bump, thumb brushing absentmindedly back and forth — a tiny, tender motion that made your heart ache in the best way.

‘Our first Christmas Eve as husband and wife.’

‘Our first Christmas with a baby growing between us.’

You smiled warmly and hummed, then reached up and traced the edge of his jaw, rough with stubble. “First Christmas together. Married…” You said softly, as if it were something fragile. 

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “First of many. Next year, there’ll be one more stocking on the mantel,” he softly nudged his nose against yours, smiling happily. 

You grinned, placing your hand on top of his over the swell of your belly. “Four of us under this roof,” You said, “Five, if you count Ellie always being over here with Sarah.” you chuckled. 

He laughed, eyes dancing across your features that still showed in the soft light of the moon coming through the windows. “She still can’t believe she’s getting a little sibling.”

“She’ll be the best big sister,” You said, scooting in closer, your legs tangled beneath the thick comforter. He pulled you in tighter, his palm resting low on your back, warm and grounding.

“You’ve made this house feel like home,” he said suddenly, voice quieter now, like he was speaking a secret aloud. “I used to dread holidays. Now I never want them to end.”

You felt your throat tighten at his words. You gently kissed the space just beneath his collarbone, lingering for a second. “Me too.” You paused and looked up at him. “I can’t remember the last time I actually celebrated a holiday.” You softly sighed. 

He hummed as his thumb softly stroked your back as he held you, “What’s your favorite Christmas memory? Something you hold onto during the holidays?” 

You lay your head against the pillow as you moved onto your side to face him. You scrunched your nose as you thought. After a few moments, you suddenly smiled, a memory warming your mind once more. “Levi had me over to his place one year. He bought me a few presents... little things that I think he got from the local thrift store – but to me, it was everything.” You hummed, remembering. “We slept out in his living room by the Christmas tree. I don’t know how he did it… But I woke up to presents under the tree.” Your smile grew warmer, and tears stung your eyeline. 

Joel’s arms tightened slightly around you, his chest rumbling with a low hum of encouragement.

"I woke up to the smell of cinnamon and sugar in the air," You continued, voice sleepy and sweet with memory. "We made such a mess... flour everywhere, dough stuck in my hair. He let me ice the rolls, even though I got more on the counter than on the rolls." You lightly chuckled, feeling the familiar, old ache of missing him.

"I just remember feeling... loved. Safe." You said after a moment. 

Joel pressed a slow kiss to the top of your head, lingering there like he wanted to kiss away every ghost of loneliness you’d ever known.

"You’re safe now," he murmured into my hair. "You’re home, mi vida."

You nodded and hummed as you drifted to sleep, wrapped up in his warmth and the soft, perfect hum of Christmas magic.

—

You didn’t feel him slip out of bed sometime in the middle of the night.

Didn’t hear the quiet rustle of his jeans or the soft creak of the front door closing behind him.

You only stirred once, faintly aware of the empty space beside you, but the bed was still warm from him, and you trusted him like you trusted your own heartbeat. He was just getting a drink or checking on Sarah. He’d be back.

What you didn’t know — what made your eyes sting when you found out later that next morning— was that Joel had pulled on his boots, grabbed his keys, and snuck out into the freezing Christmas Eve night.

All so he could find a store still open.

All so he could buy cinnamon rolls — the real kind, yeast and all — because he wanted you to have that piece of your childhood again that was held so closely to your heart with Levi.

He wanted us to make that memory together, to keep it alive—however, this time, with your daughter and the little one on the way.

Christmas morning

The soft gray light of early Christmas morning seeped through the edges of the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. The world outside was silent, blanketed in thin sheet of snow, but inside, everything felt warm and alive. 

You stirred slightly, tucked under the thick comforter, and immediately felt the familiar weight of his arm pull you closer.

“Morning, Mrs. Miller,” he whispered, his voice low and rough with sleep, his lips brushing the edge of your ear.

You turned to face him, eyes barely open, a smile already pulling at your lips. “Mmm, still getting used to that name...” you let out a small giggle. 

He smiled back, eyes crinkling at the corners, and leaned in to press a slow, warm kiss to your forehead. “Get used to it. You’re stuck with me now.” he joked. 

You sleepily chuckled and blinked a few times before turning to look at the time, 6 am. 

“Sarah, awake?” you yawned and rubbed your eyes, preparing to wake up for a morning of excitement from her.

Joel moved to prop himself on his elbow on his side before he leaned in and kissed your lips softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he did so. His lips moved slowly and deeply across yours, enchanting you under his spell, like he’d done so many times in early mornings.

He murmured as he pulled back slowly, pressing his forehead against yours, pulling you by your waist close to him. “We have a rule in the Miller household. No one disturbs mom or dad until at least 7 am on Christmas morning…” he said with a low rumble to his voice, his hand moving down to cup your ass. 

You inhaled and let out a soft moan as he grabbed the meat of your ass, lightly tugging on the t-shirt he’d had on, “Is this a new rule or one that’s been established before our marriage?” you giggled feeling his lips trail down your neck towards your collarbone. 

You could feel his lips smirk against your skin as he continued littering kisses down your body. “Been established since Sarah could walk outta her room when she was 3…” 

You chuckled softly and threaded your fingers through his hair before pulling him back up to your lips, kissing him slowly and deeply. Your fingertips inching up his shirt, lightly trailing up his skin. You wanted the damned thing off your husband's body. 

He groaned at your eagerness and cupped your cheek again, his hand moving deeper to thread into the hair at the base of your skull, pulling you up and into him. His other hand maneuvered your panties down your thighs and off you like it was some magic trick. He proudly hummed against your lips as he pulled back to take his shirt off and tossed it off the bed. 

You looked up at him and sat up, doing the same, discarding the oversized shirt of his that you had worn to bed.

His eyes looked down at your body, and a type of hunger and lust took over — his eyes darkening. 

Your breasts had grown since becoming pregnant, and between that and your swollen belly, it had Joel going mad for you most days.

“Dios, mírate. Eres tan hermosa con nuestro hijo creciendo dentro de ti....” (God, look at you. You're so beautiful with our child growing inside you.) he murmured leaning down to capture your nipple between his lips, lightly sucking on it. 

You fell against the sheets and panted softly, a blush swelling up your body, arching into his touch. “Fuck that feels so good…” You whined as goosebumps ran up your body from the way his tongue was lightly flicking the sensitive nub. 

He grinned and looked up at you as he pulled off your nipple with a light ‘pop’ before he slid his boxers off and nestled between your legs, his hard cock falling against your thigh.

He shifted, pressing you down into the mattress with the heat of his body, his hand cradling the underside of your bump like it was the most precious thing in the world. His forehead pressed to yours, breath fanning across my lips.

"You’re so damn beautiful like this," he whispered, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "Warm, messy, mine."

You whimpered before you could stop yourself, your hands moving down his torso, tugging him closer. He smiled against your mouth — slow, lazy, wicked.

And then he kissed you — really kissed you — deep, slow, and devastating, his hand holding your face like he was scared you'd disappear. One of your hands slid into his hair, the other clutched at his waist, anchoring yourself to him as the world narrowed to nothing but the feel of him, the taste of him.

"Stay right here," he said, kissing the corner of your lips, then lower, along your jaw. "Let me taste my Christmas present nice and slow."

You barely had time to gasp before he shifted, pushing the covers aside to lower himself down your body with sinful intent. 

When he pressed his mouth just above your hipbone, a soft, desperate sound slipped from the back of your throat. He chuckled low, the vibration sinking into your skin like a brand.

"Mmm, that's it," he whispered, lips kissing the other hipbone. "All mine, pretty girl. Gonna make you feel so good you forget there's even a tree downstairs." he cooed.

Your hands flew to his hair instinctively, fingers threading through the messy strands as he nudged your thighs apart, taking his time like he had all morning to worship every inch of you.

And when his mouth finally found you, he drew warm, slow, devastating circles into your clit — making you arch into him and pray the house stayed quiet just a little longer.

“Fuck baby, please don’t stop…” You pleaded, panting softly, biting your lip to hold back a moan. 

His tongue slid up your slit slowly before he began drawing love letters with his tongue on your clit. The coil wound tighter and tighter with each motion. 

You gripped onto his hair and whimpered as you felt a wave of pleasure cascade down your body. Your back arched and nipples perked as your high took you to the clouds as his tongue drank in your sweetness. 

He came to a slow stop and hummed in satisfaction before slowly kissing the inside of your thigh, softly sucking a love mark into it, “You taste so sweet, mi vida…” he grinned as he looked up at you.

You bit your bottom lip, blushing and breathlessly giggled, “God, you’re somethin’ else, Joel Miller…” 

He chuckled lowly and came up to capture your lips with his in a slow, deep kiss, groaning softly as you pulled him close by threading your fingers through his hair. You tasted your sweetness on his lips, sending a wave of arousal to your core.  

Your lips tangoed in a heated and passionate fit of kisses before he pulled back a few inches and smirked, cupping your cheek as he growled. "Merry Christmas, baby... now be a good girl and spread those pretty thighs for me..." he kissed you once, deeply and slowly, "I wanna bury myself deep inside you..."

Your breath caught somewhere in the middle of your throat at his confession, and your cheeks turned red as a slow grin spread across your lips. “Yes, sir…”

You spread your thighs, and he immediately lined himself up before slowly sinking deep into your warmth. 

You both sharply gasped in unison, his forehead leaning against yours. 

His jaw tightened, and he gripped your waist as you pulled him deeper, grunting and eyes fluttering closed. 

He groaned and began slowly thrusting himself into you. His hips achingly being pulled back in by your tightness, causing him to shiver and let out a weak chuckle, “Fuck baby. If you weren’t already pregnant I’d be givin’ you that for Christmas with how good you’re pullin’ my cock deep inside you…” he grunted. 

You grinned and moaned before you began to grind your hips with his to create just another level of stimulation. You whimpered his name as added friction of his pubic hair rubbing against your clit was just enough to send you barreling towards the edge. 

A sinful grin stretched across his lips as he gently nibbled at your jawline and chin, "Fuck… nothing else I could unwrap today will ever feel as good as hearing you whimper my name while you’re wrapped around my cock..."

You panted and mewled, grinning as your fingers tangled in his hair, “You’re being a very naughty boy with how you’re talkin’ to me Mr. Miller…” You gently tugged on his hair, moaning as he moved down to mark your neck. 

He growled against your collarbone, “Mmm baby you’re not actin’ so nice yourself.” He started to thrust a little bit faster, making you gasp and clench around him. 

“In fact — with how you’re layin’ here... with your legs spread wide, my baby in your belly and still moanin’ for my cock… I’d say you’ve been a very naughty girl this year.” he moved up to cup your cheek and hover his lips over yours as his hips sped up more. 

You grinned and hummed sinfully as your eyes found his, “See I would argue the opposite... that by me doing all that, especially with the child of yours in my womb, I'm a go-…” your jaw slacking open as you felt an orgasm fast approaching, letting out a moan, your hand flying to grab his arm that held your cheek, “F-Fuck... right there…” you pleaded. 

He growled and kept the same momentum, moving his other hand to the back of your knee, pulling it up and out to get more access to you. His eyes never leaving yours as he lowly muttered, “You think you’re a good girl by that logic?” 

Something snapped inside you — hearing him call you a good girl —and you felt a wave crash over you. 

You whimpered and your eyebrows furrowed as you pathetically nodded and murmured over and over a couple times, “Yes… Yes…” as you came on his cock. 

He grinned devilishly realizing the term and its effect on you. He bit his lip watching you come undone as kept the pace and nodded with you, coaxing you through your high, “Mmm, you love hearing that, don’t you? Good girl...” 

You nodded and fluttered your eyes closed, your breath suddenly catching in the back of your throat. Your aching cunt pulsing around him.

He nudged your nose and panted, groaning as he sunk his lips down to mark your neck, “Good girl — now stay just like that.”

He could taste the sweet salty sweat that had dusted your skin under the heavy comforter and heat of his body which drove his hips to snap up in speed unconsciously. 

You felt over-stimulated and began trying to reach another peak of release by pinching your nipples between your bodies as he nibbled the soft spot on your neck — which made you moan a little louder than expected. 

“Shh baby, I need more time,” He moved his head and leaned up. He then began kissing you feverishly, pulling your leg up more as his hips began slowing down — more controlled strokes to settle you down. 

“Be a good girl… give me more time before we’re beckoned downstairs…” he whispered against your lips. 

You nodded and placed your hand over his chest. You felt his heart pounding against your palm. He was also coated in a thin layer of sweat himself. His hair fell forward onto his forehead, some of the hairs curling due to the sweat. 

You reached up to capture his bottom lip gently and pulled back to tease him, “Get on your back…” you pushed on his chest lightly to get him lay down. 

He chuckled lowly and slowly fell onto his back, pulling you with to straddle him, “Mmm you know how much I like this angle don’t you?” he ran his hand up your body — across the swell of your belly and in between your breasts to rest on your heart. It pounded against his palm.

You nodded, "You like to see your work..." You bit your lip and placed your hands behind yourself onto his thighs, arching your back a little so your bump and breasts were on display for him. 

His eyes widened slightly and then fluttered closed shortly after, his hands moved to grip your hips and he whimpered feeling his cock deep inside you, “F-Fuck that’s a good girl…” 

You began slowly bouncing up and down, your heart beating so quickly you could hear it in your own ears, “God, eres tan tonto...” (You’re so thick) Your breathing sped up as you felt a tug starting to bloom deep in your core. 

He grunted and began panting heavily as he felt you tighten around him, “That’s it baby… don’t stop… fuck…” he grinned feeling a deep pull himself in his navel. 

Your voice cracked as your head fell back, moaning his name as you came, your hips stuttering and began circle with him deep inside you. 

He grunted lowly and nodded, “That’s a good girl, cum for me…” 

Your hips stalled for a moment and you looked down at him still reeling from your orgasm. Your breath heavy, and legs weak. 

He looked up at you like he couldn’t hold it back another second — eyes dark, hungry, his hand already sliding around your waist, pulling you down in as close as he could. “Come ‘ere…”

And then he kissed you.

Not soft. Not hesitant. It was the kind of kiss that stole the air from your lungs, that made your body burn with desire. One that tasted like want and need and everything you hadn’t needed to say to each other. 

His mouth slanted over yours, lips full and firm, and when his tongue slipped past your lips — slow, deliberate, teasing — you let out a soft sound and melted against him. You began rocking your hips up and down on his cock, riding him nice and slow — giving him more time. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging just a little, and he groaned low in his chest, one hand gripping your lower back, the other rising to cradle your jaw tenderly. He sat up to have you more so sitting in his lap and moved your feet to wrap around him. 

His hands were everywhere and your tongues slid together, tasting, teasing, deepening the kiss until it felt like everything else disappeared — like time stopped just to let you both exist here, wrapped up in heat and heartbeats.

When both of you finally pulled apart, breathless — he rested his forehead against yours, groaning softly at the disconnect, “Let me do the work, let me…” he whispered before he began rocking his hips up into you. 

You nodded and panted heavily, exhaustion setting in, “I love you…” you whimpered, cupping his cheeks, pulling him in close to you. 

He brushed your hair back and cupped your cheek as well, whispering as he went back to kissing your lips tenderly, “I love you…” 

He kissed you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, tender and soft but filled with every ounce of passion he could pack into a series of kisses. He moved his hand down and began rocking your hips as he rocked his, slowly building tension and momentum.  

When he felt the pull deepen he pulled from your lips and pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes shutting and body tensing as he felt the coil snap followed by a wave of pleasure as he came deep up inside of you — whimpering your name like it was a prayer he couldn’t stop repeating, even when his voice was barely there. 

—

After you both came down from your highs, you ended up dozing off back to sleep.

He brushed your hair back, and his voice lulled you to sleep as he told you the story of Sarah coming to wake him up a few Christmases ago. How she and Tommy scared the shit out of him when they both came in together to prank him by jumping on the bed to wake him up. 

You didn't know how long you were out for, but you woke to the smell that hit you like a memory wrapped in a hug: warm, yeasty, and sweet cinnamon.

You blinked awake, stunned to find Joel not in bed next to you.

You quickly got up and dressed before padding down the stairs to find Joel standing in the kitchen — hair mussed, T-shirt wrinkled, flour dusted on his matching Christmas flannel pajama pants you all were wearing together this year. A proud, sheepish grin stretched across his face.

"Merry Christmas, mi vida," he said, holding up a tray of unbaked cinnamon rolls.

Sarah sat at the island grinning wildly, already wearing one of your aprons that was a little too big for her. 

"We saved the icing for you," she said brightly, holding out a spatula.

You covered your mouth, laughing through the tears that rushed to your eyes.

Joel crossed the kitchen in three long strides, setting the tray down and cupping your face in his big, floury hands. He kissed you once, slow and sure, and whispered:

"Let’s make some Christmas memories, my love."

And that’s exactly what you did — laughing, baking, and burning the first batch just a little.

But all in good fun – who wouldn't with the excitement of all the presents under the tree?

Previous Chapter - Final Chapter

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[beloveds-embrace]

(Lavender Marriage au: Poly 141 x married reader where they don’t know you and your gay bestfriend married just for the Benefits and they see your husband/bestfriend “cheating” on you)

Your parents are traditional and are pressing you for marriage. Your bestfriend, on the other hand, is gay and in a secret relationship and the heir of a successful family business, but his parents are homophobic.

In hindsight, it’s extremely easy for the both of you to decide to get married and move far away, buying a nice plot of land and a big enough house to have rooms for you, for your husband and his boyfriend, and for you and your husband for whenever the parents decide to visit.

Honestly, the townspeople suck; you don’t trust any of them not to snitch or to not be spies, so unfortunately you keep yourself happy with toys you order with your happy bestfriend’s money and flash that ring on your finger often enough no one ever questions your husband’s many, many trips.

You don’t mind much; a big, comfy house where you have everything you could want, no worried, far away from your parents. All you have to do is keep up the pretense of being a dutiful, happy wife, and everything will be well.

Until the abandoned house next to yours is bought by four of the most handsome military men you think you’ve ever seen. You don’t know they’ve bought it and are renovating it themselves until Kyle comes over to ask for a few glasses of water-

“Sorry to bother you, Ma’am. We’ve just begun renovations and the plumbing’s not fixed it.”

It takes every ounce of your self-control not to call him handsome while you fetch him some icy cold water.

The other men are just as handsome too- calling you Ma’am, bonnie, sweetheart in those sexy british and scottish accents. Too bad, they are very respectful. For once, that ring on your finger is getting in your way.

So unfortunately, you resign yourself to waving to them whenever you see them, and spying on them from your porch, lemonade in hand and ogling those handy muscles glistening from sweat and working hard.

(They like you, too. So much. You look fucking gorgeous to them, all pretty sundresses and delicate jewelry and so sweetly fussing over them while they work, bringing them cookies and sandwiches and drinks and your pretty eyes just glancing at them through your lashes. You make the renovations so much harder because they have to take breaks.

But you are taken, the ring a proof of that, and you seem quite content with your life. They meet your husband too and for all that they wish he wasn’t there, they can see that you two are happy.

Until they see your husband kissing another man. In your home. Cheating on you.

And suddenly, they know they have a chance.)

Part two

[backtothefanfiction]

First Impressions | Joaquin Torres

Summary: the first time Sam introduces you to Joaquin

Warnings: flirting, fluff, playful banter

A/N: I fell in love with this man during Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Completely forgot about him until I watched the new Cap the other night. So here’s this little before going to sleep drabble. As you will quickly be able to tell I love the idea of a Carol Danvers niece reader given the whole air force thing. Hope people enjoy. May write some more in the future.

Joaquin was smitten the second you walked into his house. When Sam said he was headed over with “some new recruit” he hadn’t expected you. A roughed up baseball cap on top of your head, faded baseball jersey, baggy oversized jeans and sneakers, dripping from head to toe and almost shivering.

“What happened?” Joaquin asked Sam as you tentatively stepped through the sliding door, not wanting to drip too much on this strangers carpet.

“He dropped me in the lake.” Your voice blurted out, completely unamused, shooting daggers at the still newly appointed Captain America.

“Yeah, well, still better that than a 40ft drop onto hard ground.” Sam retorted.

“Or you could have just not dropped me at all?!” You stressed, hands raised in the air, still in complete disbelief over this turn of events. “That’s the last time I’m ever flying with you.” You muttered and you saw Joaquin let out a little chuckle over the situation.

That’s when you really took him in. The guy who Sam sung the praises of. His supposedly best recruit, not that he would actually tell him that.

“Come on, I’ll get you a towel.” Joaquin said, leading you upstairs and to the bathroom.

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything I could change into, do you?” You asked him, as he handed you a couple towels.

“Umm, yeah, of course, I’ll just go find you something.”

You didn’t wait for him to return before you whipped off your clothes and immediately jumped in the shower to wash the murky lake water off of you. You were grateful that it was an old tub and shower curtain situation and not one of those see through glass cabinet shower situations, not that it didn’t stop Joaquin from blushing when he came back into the bathroom a few minutes later with some clothes in hand.

“Oh, sorry- I didn’t realise you were- I’ll just leave these- uh- yeah.” He rushed out before quickly shutting the door again.

He hesitated a moment as he stood with his back to the door, his brain fixated on the small glimpse he got of your naked back from behind the shower curtain. He could feel the flush in his cheeks. The smile that threatened his lips. He fought to hide it as he went back down to Sam in the kitchen.

“So who is she?” Joaquin asked as he grabbed a fresh cup of coffee and passed it to Sam before picking up his own previously discarded mug to finish.

“She’s a Danvers.” Sam said, as if the surname alone held a lot of weight, but Joaquin still didn’t bite. “As in Carol Danvers… Captain Marvel.” Sam said, walking him through it slowly until Joaquin’s face began to flicker with recognition. “Carol’s her aunt. Before she became Captain Marvel she was one heck of an Air Force Pilot. Kid saw what her aunt did and decided to pick up the mantle.”

“And she’s good?” Joaquin fished, a flame for the woman upstairs really taking hold as Sam kept adding more fuel to the fire.

“Yeah, she’s fucking great. Best female pilot I’ve ever seen.”

“So you looking to set her up with a pair of wings?” Joaquin asked, even though he had a hint of jealousy to his tone. He enjoyed being the only person other than Sam who had access to the now not so secret military wings, but he also couldn’t deny the new found need to go flying with you on a sunny afternoon and treat you to a picnic on the top of a mountain or something.

“We’ll see.” Sam said sceptically, but Joaquin knew from the way Sam had even brought you to meet him he thought you had what it takes.

“What are you two girls talking about?” You asked as you came striding back into the kitchen in a pair of Joaquin’s joggers and his old air force T-shirt. You were using a towel to squeeze out your hair and Joaquin couldn’t deny you looked right at home in his house, wearing his clothes.

“Lover boy here was grilling me about you.” Sam joked, taking in the way Joaquin looked at you.

“Was he now?” You asked feigning interest and playing up to the little bit in order to embarrass him, but as you sat across from him at the table and really took him in for the first time, you couldn’t deny he was handsome- and if the T-shirt he gave you had anything to say, you definitely had a lot in common to bond over.

“Uh- um- no- I-“ Joaquin began to stutter bashfully.

“It’s all cool dude,” you reassured. “I know he’s just messing. You really shouldn’t let him rile you up like that.”

Joaquin sighed before he leaned in closer to you, “How do you stay so calm around him?” He asked as if Sam wasn’t there and you had all the secrets.

“Eh, when you grew up being told about your badass aunt with actual super powers, some guy in a read white and blue bird costume is nothing.” You joked.

“Hey!” Sam pointed at you, “don’t you dare turn him against me or I’ll drop your ass in the lake again.”

“So you admit it! You did it on purpose.” You said, slamming your hand on the table animatedly.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. What are you gonna do about it?” He asked back, but you didn’t say anything more. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You rolled your eyes at him before fixing them on Joaquin instead as Sam’s phone began to ring. You both turned your eyes on him as he checked the caller ID. “I need to take this.” He said, before getting up and dismissing himself, stepping out the back door to take the call outside.

“Would you like coffee?” Joaquin asked to break up the silence the two of you were left in.

“Umm, yes, that would be great.” You said with a smile and he got up to pour you a cup full from the pot.

“It looks good on you.” He said as he came back over a moment later and handed you the mug.

“What, now?” You said confused.

“Uh, my shirt,” he said with a shrug, as he committed to the statement. “It looks good on you.”

You couldn’t help but blush slightly under his gaze. He was cute and confident and oddly endearing. “Thanks.” You smiled, as he sat himself back down. “I guess I’ll keep it then.” You joked.

“The only way you’re keeping that thing is if you were my girlfriend.” He replied, half as a joke, half as a way of informing you just how much that shirt meant to him.

“Well I guess you better ask me on a date then.” You smirked playfully as he took a sip of his coffee and he almost choked as he spat it back into his cup. But before he could say anymore, Sam came back through the sliding door.

“Alright lovebirds, you can stop having your meet cute moment now, we gotta go,” he said to Joaquin.

“And what about me?” You said indignantly, feeling a little put out.

“He’ll be back in time to take you out on a proper date later.” Sam retorted, marching back through the house to get his shit from where he’d left it by the front door.

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” You asked, completely brushing over the rest of what he’d said. “I don’t even live anywhere near here!” You stressed. “You just brought me here and now you’re gonna up and leave me here!” You said indignantly.

Joaquin froze in the middle of the hallway next to you, looking from his mentor and back to you as he tried to keep up with what’s going on. He felt conflicted. “I mean, can’t she just come with us.” He offered. “I mean, you brought her out here because you wanted to see what she could do. So I say let her.”

Sam looked between the two of you slowly, before he conceded. “Uh, fine. But if anything happens with her it’s on your head.” He warned but you were both smiling.

“So, is this technically our first date?” You ribbed him as he began to usher you out the door so he could lock up.

“We’ll see. Depends if you like it or not.” He mused and you had to admit, his cheeky smile did make you swoon.

“And if I don’t?” You asked with a playful twinkle in your eye.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured you with just as equal playfulness and innuendo, “you will.”

[inkedbybarnes]

unclear

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: everyone thinks you're dating bucky, except yourself.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ minors dni. miscommunication (i love this trope, sue me), angst with a happy fluffy ending, quite stubborn reader, implied smut if you squint, usage of petnames such as baby and doll. lowercase for basically everything.

i haven't finished anything in decades, but i suddenly had an idea just now and decided to write it down. surprisingly, i finished it? might have a lot of mistakes and such since i haven't proofread it yet. also, sorry for using lowercase for this, i kinda like how it looks. hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you're confusing me. so... you're not dating bucky?”

wanda tilted her head, confusion etched on her face as you spent your weekly girl's night with natasha. it usually consisted of eating food you all desired, drinking until you got wasted, and spilling secrets to one another.

although tonight, you weren't sure if you had any secrets to spill.

"as far as i know, no. we're just friends, teammates. nothing else," you answered with a heavy sigh. "can we talk about something else?"

"hold your horses, young lady! we are not skipping this topic again. you obviously want a label but he isn't giving you one!" wanda protested. she has been constantly asking about you and bucky's relationship for the past weeks, and you always had the same answer. you don't know.

"have you never talked about it with bucky? he looks at you like you'd get lost if he looks away for a second. not a single soul in the tower would think that you're just friends," natasha interjected, taking another sip from the bottle of beer she held. she had a point, as always. "if he's just playing with you, which i highly doubt for barnes, then just end whatever that is. you deserve better than having doubts and confusion, babe."

you've tried asking him multiple times, but every attempt felt like you were stepping on his boundaries. after years of being controlled by hydra, you knew it was possible that he'd hate the feeling of being rushed and entering a relationship that could potentially feel like a cage to him.

but natasha was right. your "relationship" was no longer anything friendly. he sleeps in your bed, claiming he slept better in it, and wakes up beside you to shower you with kisses. none of you even tried to hide it after some time. you always cooked your meals and ate them together, casually feeding one another and stealing kisses in between. you even stopped going on dates and you had no idea if you were exclusive. you deserved to know what your relationship with bucky was, but you were too scared to lose everything once you asked.

"we're not dating. i only see him as a friend, so you can both stop worrying about me." you lied through your teeth, your chest aching as you realised how stupid this was. you sighed and faked a smile, shifting the attention to natasha. "so, tell me about your date with steve! how was the first ever date of captain america since the 40s?"

wanda was distracted by the question, immediately bombarding the now blushing widow with questions. on the other hand, your mind flew away for a minute, finally deciding to get an answer from bucky.

the annual ball that tony stark held for, well, nearly anyone, was nearing. you only had two weeks left, and you haven't even gone out to find something to wear. it was hard to find any motivation to do all that effort when the person you've been waiting to ask you as his date hasn't asked you yet.

although, bucky had a tendency to get shy and hold back. you knew that. so here you were, standing behind the doors to the gym, knowing that bucky would be training at this hour. you still haven't asked him the question you were supposed to ask him, so you decided to do it all at once.

after you've finished your small pep talk, you opened the door to enter the room and your first instinct was to search for bucky.

considering that he was a huge chunk of a man, he was easy to find. however, the sight of him standing in front of a woman that was too close for your comfort wasn't delightful.

he didn't see you entering the room since he was facing the opposite direction, conversing with the agent that happened to be training as well. she had the sweetest and flirtiest smile on her face, bringing her hand up to his arm, slowly caressing it. you didn't mean to easily hear their conversation as you walked closer.

"so, do you happen to have someone for me to have as a date for the ball? i don't want to be lonely on that night, sergeant," the agent said with an extra pout, swaying her hips side to side like a child asking for candy.

"oh, yeah? i think i have someone for you," bucky replied, breaking your heart into pieces with how enthusiastic he was with his answer. "i'm sure you'll—"

you sniffed. unconsciously. not knowing that your tears were already falling, causing your nose to get stuffy. how pathetic, you thought.

your little sniff caught the attention of both the agent and bucky, looking at you in shock. although, the girl was more pleasantly surprised than the opposite. thankfully, you already had your tears wiped before they could see them.

"oh, we didn't see you there!" she greeted you with your name. "we were just talking about our date for this year's ball. who are you bringing?"

"i haven't decided yet, no one's worth it even if i try," you answered bitterly. "so you're going together?"

before bucky could answer, the agent already had her arm wrapped around his, happily smiling at your question. "yeah! amazing, right? i actually thought you two had a thing, but i guess not. glad things worked out in the end."

and that was your last straw. "well, enjoy yourselves. i have to go and find natasha."

you turned to leave, ignoring the loud calls of bucky. you were glad that you never asked him about your relationship and the ball. you were going to be hurt either way.

you spent the next hours stuck in your room, body covered with a thick sheet as you ranted about your frustrations to friday.

it was silly, you knew that, but you refused to call natasha and wanda to remind you of your stupidity and decided to let an ai robot listen to your problems instead.

"and he even flirted back! answering coyly like a teenager. he's 107 years old, fri!" you whined, not noticing the new nickname you've given the alternative intelligence. "ugh, now i have a broken heart and no date in sight. how did it get to this?"

"perhaps you must discuss this matter with sergeant barnes first. your conversation ended quite abruptly with no clear conclusion."

"no, i don't want the truth rubbed on my face," you said, grabbing another piece of tissue to sneeze in. "you restricted him from entering my room, right?"

friday answered with a yes, then you thanked her for listening and decided to get some sleep after tirelessly crying for hours. you knew you had a team meeting with the avengers in a bit, but you couldn't bring yourself to even walk a few steps.

your sleep ended and you were woken up with friday's reminder that it was time for dinner with the team.

with a groan, you pushed yourself off your bed. bucky would be there, but you were too hungry to care. it would be awkward, of course, but you had to face him at some point anyway.

your feet padded towards the door, opening it after trying your hair in a bun.

"ah, fuck."

you jumped at the voice and the body falling to the floor as you opened the door.

"bucky?" you asked, still in shock. "were you sleeping outside of my room?"

you watched bucky stand up, his hand massaging his aching nape as he looked for your eyes. "friday won't let me in. i waited outside instead. i guess i fell asleep during that," he explained, a frown forming on his face. "did you restrict me from entering our room?"

your eyes widened at his choice of words. our room. he considered your room to be his room as well. while that would've made you melt in an instant, you were still hurt to entertain that possibility.

"this is my room, barnes. not yours, not ours. and yes, i had you restricted because i couldn't face you yet. what do you need anyway?"

"i wanted to see you, talk to you." a flash of pain crossed his eyes. "whatever happened at the gym, it's—"

"bucky, you don't have to explain anything to me. we're just friends. it's my fault i assumed we were something. i just need some time to get over it."

"but i thought we were something as well..." he replied, his voice was almost as quiet as a whisper. "i thought we were dating."

"were we?" you asked, genuinely curious. "we never.. you never said anything. i mean, yeah, i wished it meant something, but i thought you wouldn't want to be trapped in a relationship with me, so i just waited. apparently, i was right and i can't blame you for that."

"right about what? the thing that happened in the gym this morning?" he asked. you nodded in response. "i know it sounds like i was flirting back, well i didn't know at the moment, until i asked steve who was clueless but he called nat to help me out and explained that it looked like i was flirting back. i wasn't. i was just going to suggest sam as a date for her. i would never agree to anyone."

oh. so he just wasn't interested in anyone at all.

"besides this one girl who's constantly been in my head. that's if she'd even give me a chance and say yes. i fucked it up badly before i could even ask her properly."

you knew what hoping got you, but you couldn't help but think that he was talking about you. he'd have to be clueless to say all those things in front of you only for it to be someone else.

"i love you, baby. i should've told you that, i should've made it clear sooner. i'm so sorry i let you have doubts when i could've been reassuring you about what i feel for you."

"bucky..."

"i would never feel trapped with you, doll. only you made me feel so much love and freedom. i'd be a fool to let go of that. i'm sorry it took a few hits and harsh words from natasha to make me realise that i wasn't giving you enough when you deserve everything." he held your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him. you felt breathless, tears threatening to fall but this time it was out of joy. "hydra made sure i had no voice to express myself. now, i'll use it to let you know that i love you so fucking much that it hurts when you're not around. i promise to work on it. if anything like this happens again, ask me, baby. demand things from me. i'll give you everything in a heartbeat."

"even if i ask for your arm?"

he laughed, a sound that was music to your ears. "it's yours baby. although, i do like fucking you with my metal—"

"bucky!" you scolded him, hitting him lightly on the chest.

"sorry, baby. couldn't help it. missed my girl so much."

his girl. you loved hearing that.

"it's only been a few hours. don't be silly," you reminded him, but you knew you also felt the same.

"i miss you even when i don't see you for a second." you couldn't help but laugh at his words. "something funny, doll?"

"sorry, natasha said something similar about you a few days ago," you answered. "i'm sorry for assuming so quickly, bucky. you deserved the chance to explain."

"and you did let me explain. i can't blame you for assuming and getting hurt when i never gave you the confirmation to believe otherwise. don't apologise for it, baby."

"i love you," you said, causing him to grin widely.

"yeah? you love me too?" he asked, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "this is official now, right? we're dating?"

you nodded happily, giggling as he landed a kiss to your mouth. "so, you wanna go to the ball with me?"

he kissed you again. "don't. i'm supposed to be asking you that. i had an entire thing prepared for you, i even dragged half of the team to help me out days ago. besides wanda and natasha, of course. couldn't let them tell you about it."

your heart swelled, he was already planning to ask you before all of this misunderstanding happened, and it could've been solved with communication. lesson learned, indeed.

"well hurry because i can't wait to say yes," you playfully threatened him, kissing the tip of his nose until the loud rumble of your stomach interrupted your sweet moment. "ah, right. i was on my way to eat dinner when i opened the door."

bucky laughed, his eyes twinkling witth adoration as he kept his eyes on you. "we can't have you starving, that's for sure. come, let's get you something." he held your hand, and dragged you to the kitchen. he turned to look at you with a playful smile. "wanna cook together like the old times?"

you smiled. "like the old times."

in the middle of your cooking session, you heard whistles and claps along with the footsteps that entered the kitchen. you both turned to find the rest of the team with shit eating grins.

"finally! so is this real or do we need to smack your heads?" tony asked, his hand placed on his hip.

"it's always been real, stark," bucky answered, wrapping his arm around your waist. "except this time, i'm making sure my entire world knows it."

"i think everybody knows you have a thing for each other, barnes." clint added.

"i meant my entire world, not everybody." bucky looked at you with awe. "she's my world."

bucky's answer gained various loud reactions from the team, mostly calling him a cheesy old man and fake gags, but there you were, cheeks heating up as you looked back at him with the same amount of love, if not more.

and he did ask you to be his date to the ball the day after, surprising you with his so-called secret plan.

a year later, he surprised you with a ring as he knelt on one knee.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[nottslove]

LA MIA PRINCIPESSA

Pairing: theo nott x reader

Warnings: 18+, smut under the cut, mdni, porn without plot, established relationship, google translated italian, mirror play, unprotected sex, piv, size kink, praising, degrading, dirty talk, creampie, vaginal sex, hair pulling dry humping, cursing, swearing, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of drug use (theo smoking), lowercase intended.

Summary: modern au. it's your birthday and theo decides to give you a diamond tiara as a birthday present, so you thank him later that night.

Author's note: had this idea in my mind, so i decided to write it.. please, please comment!! and please do send in requests if you have any! i write for all the slytherin boys, not just theo!!

YOU were always thankful your birthday fell in the summer. It always meant that you didn't have to spend your special day in school, listening to teachers droll on and on whilst you sat in class or get to bed early because of the curfew.

No, you got to do whatever you wanted during your birthday, spending it however you wanted without limit. You didn't have to spend it in the classroom like a regular day, you didn't have to worry about waking up early the next day, you didn't have to worry about dealing with a hangover the next morning after getting shitfaced...you were free to do anything you wanted.

You got to host the best parties in the summer, with an unlimited budget, inviting all your friends and having your own private bar set up, your birthday perhaps being the most anticipated event of the summer.

Your eighteenth birthday was perhaps your most expensive one yet. You had spent millions of galleons, hiring the best party planners, arranging for your favorite singer and transforming the ball room into your dream party setting, the way you had always envisioned.

Your invitations on their own were a sight to behold. Made of a deep blue, firm glittery card, the words were hand-written in gleaming ink made of real gold, by professional Japanese calligraphers.

Your dress was a vision itself. Made of the softest material, it was short, perfectly tailored to your size, hugging every curve and fitting you perfectly.

It was made of a sheer, black material, almost transparent, with a low cut neck, the thin fabric slightly see-through. The upper part was stitched the way a corset was, cinching your waist and pushing your breasts together where they nearly spilled over the top.

Your thong was slightly visible through the sheer fabric, as was your belly piercing, the shimmer of the diamond slightly dulled due to the layer of fabric that blocked out the light.

You paired it with your six-inch, black stilettos, which elevated your height by a considerable amount, and wore your birthday gift from your parents, a diamond choker worth millions.

You felt like a Goddess.

Right before the party, your boyfriend knocked on your room door, asking if you were ready.

Theo had been staying at your place for a week— he had come from Italy just for your birthday, and your parents had agreed to you accompanying him back home for the rest of the summer.

"Come in," you told Theo, applying the last of your make-up, a final layer of mascara and lip gloss. You were leaning closer to the mirror, front pressed against the vanity, without even realizing that being in that position was fueling Theo's thoughts about bending you over the dresser and making the mascara you had just applied stream down your cheeks.

"Dio," he breathed, his blue eyes darkening as they raked your figure, mentally undressing you for the few, long seconds that he spent staring at you. He couldn't look away, every movement you made giving him a tantalizing glimpse of the skin underneath. He felt his blood rushing down to his crotch, his pants tightening as they struggled to accommodate his growing erection.

A low groan slipped past his lips and he slowly moved to stand behind you, large hand slowly sliding to your front as he pressed himself behind you, nestling his bulge to fit between your asscheeks.

"You see how hard I am for you?" he muttered lowly, slowly grinding his hips against your asscheeks, pressing a slow, sensual kiss to the side of your neck as he moved your hair to the side. "That dress is driving me fucking insane..."

He made you feel how hard he was, what you fucking did to him. His lips grazed your ear, warm breath caressing the delicate skin on your neck, beneath your ear.

"Non hai idea di quanto vorrei piegarti su questo comò e scoparti…" he murmured, his voice low and strained, his throat dry.

You suppressed a gasp, and you involuntarily pressed your ass further into his crotch, slowly grinding against him as he let out yet another groan and your movements.

Italian was a language you could never manage to master, even though you had been trying to learn it on Duolingo. Theo knew the effect it had on you, whenever he spoke Italian, even though you could never understand, you were always turned on just by hearing the sexy way the words rolled off his tongue.

You could already feel the goosebumps erupt on your skin from where he whispered into your ear, and the coil tighten in your lower abdomen, the gentle press of your nipples hardening underneath your dress and grazing against the floaty, fine material.

Each cold, metal ring seared into the delicate skin on your lower abdomen, through the thin cloth, awakening your every nerve, shivers traveling down your spine.

"Fuck, Theo," you whispered, closing your eyes for a brief moment before reopening them, teeth sinking into your lower lip briefly.

His eyes glittered with lust as they met yours in the looking glass, and he had a perfect view of your breasts with the way you were leaning forward, his eyes glued to your reflection in the mirror.

His hand suddenly drifted into your hair, grabbing your curls in his hand into a makeshift ponytail, as he pulled you harshly backwards against him, snapping his hips forward, an action which caused you to gasp slightly as your hipbones hit the marble vanity, slightly painfully, effectively stopping your movements.

"Don't fucking move," he growled lowly, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. "Unless you want me to take you right here, right now, and you'll be late for your party..."

A soft gasp tumbled forth from your lips and you nodded, your hands coming to rest on either side of you, on the edges of the vanity, letting out a shaky exhale.

Your eyes met his in the mirror, and you allowed yourself to take in the view. He wore a silky, black dress shirt, and he'd left the top three buttons open, allowing part of his muscular chest to peek through and give you a delicious view.

A sleek, black belt held up his black slacks, and you could feel the cool press of his belt buckle against your back, and heightening your desire for him.

"I take it you like my dress?" you murmured, the words catching in your throat.

He exhaled tersely, cock still nestled between your asscheeks, painfully straining against his zipper. He could feel his balls grow heavier with cum that he ached to fill you with.

One of his veiny hands was still firm against your lower abdomen, grounding you, holding you into place, whilst his other finally let go of your hair when he took a step back.

"You look like my whore," he commented with a smirk, his dark eyes glittering with lust, grabbing your hand and twirling you around so he could get an all-round view of you. "So damn gorgeous..." he added, with a harsh, yet playful smack to your ass.

"Theo!" You squealed, a small giggle following right after your gasp at his actions. You looked into the mirror again, adjusting your hair and make-up, fixing your appearance until you were satisfied with it.

He grinned devilishly, the light shining on his face at such an angle that it cast a shadow on the left side of his jaw, making him look even more dangerous that before. A cigarette dangling from his lips, he leant against the wall with his hands in his pockets as he took you in, between clouds of smoke, making no move to hide his boner.

"Are you going to take care of that?" you asked Theo, referring to the bulge straining against his slacks. He couldn't show up to the party like... that.

"No," your boyfriend replied curtly, wrapping his arm around your waist and letting his hand drift down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. "It doesn't bother me. If you want it gone, you're gonna have to take care of it for me.."

That shut you up.

A blush residing on your cheeks, you took the arm Theo had offered you, leading you downstairs and into the main ball room of the manor, where your party was fully set up.

The guests had already begun to arrive, and whilst you were so busy greeting your friends and chatting, and drinking, Theo found his friends too, and before you knew it, the party was in full swing.

You danced, you drank, enough to get intoxicated, but not enough to lose sobriety. You'd run into Theo once or twice, and steal a quick kiss or two before parting ways and going back to your friends, playing cheesy games with them and taking selfies that would forever remind you of this glorious night.

Everything was perfect. You cut the cake, your friends sang for you, you blew out the candles, made a wish... The party lasted until long past midnight, and as soon as it was over, you went up to your room, where your butler had brought all your presents.

This was your favorite part of the party— the opening of the presents.

You had asked Theo if he wanted to open the presents with you, but he excused himself to his room, claiming he was tired and he wanted to freshen up.

Slightly bummed, you decided to proceed on your own.

Your friends had given you the best gifts— dresses you'd had your eye on, shoes, jewelry...

But none could compare to your boyfriend's present.

The moment you undid the wrapping, and opened the heavy case, your breath caught in your throat and you gasped.

He had overdone himself.

There, perched on a velvet cushion was the most beautiful piece of jewelry you had ever seen in your life, a heavy tiara encrusted with real, large diamonds that caught the light and shimmered with every movement.

It was made of white-gold, each diamond cut to perfection. It probably cost him a fortune— this was far too much to spend on a gift...

Spending a good few minutes staring at the diamonds, you gulped, your fingers shaking as you picked up the note that came with it.

For my Princess, I hope you like it. Love, Theo.

"It's gorgeous," you murmured, slowly slipping it over your head, admiring yourself in the mirror.

It looked absolutely stunning, each diamond glowing iridescently when you moved the slightest bit, and you couldn't help but feel like a real princess whilst wearing this.

A sudden urge overtook you, one that signified the urgency to go thank Theo for this— the best present you had ever received by far. It even beat the pink Ferrari your parents had given you.

Without second thought, you left your room, and the rest of the presents unopened, making your way down the corridors to his room.

You didn't even bother knocking, your hand just twisted the knob and you barged in, full of desperation to show him how much the gift meant to you— how much he meant to you.

"Theo—" your voice cracked slightly as you entered his room, breaking off when you saw him on his bed, shirtless, watching Fast and Furious, leaning against the headboard as he smoked a cigarette.

Seeing you in that tantalizing dress, wearing the tiara he had gifted you awoke something primal in Theo, something intangible, something that couldn't be explained with just words.

The tiara on your head symbolized something greater than love. It symbolized possession.

His. Theo's.

You were all his, and he didn't have to fucking share. No one would ever have you.

Were you trying to kill him, walking in like that, looking so fucking gorgeous with your long waves tumbling down your back and shoulders, held together by nothing but the tiara?

You hadn't even changed yet, wearing that fucking piece of cloth that had driven him insane the entire night.

Still, he hadn't said a word. This was your night, and he wanted all the spotlight to be on you, he did not want to steal any part of it.

That was why he had maintained his distance all night, and he had jerked off multiple times until he could control himself not to bend you over on the nearest surface and fuck you at any given moment.

But having you standing in front of him in that fucking dress that he wanted to rip off the moment he saw you in it, and the tiara did things to him. It was a tangible reminder of how breathtaking you had looked all night, of how much he had wanted you, but had to stay away.

"Sarai la mia morte," he breathed, trying to ignore the rushing blood to his dick, which had already begun to harden underneath his boxers.

He closed his eyes, pulling the sheets over his lap as he did so before reopening them, turning off the television and giving you his full attention.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you—" you gush, launching yourself all over him, kissing all over his face, your eyes watering because of the amount of emotion you felt for him— you felt like you would explode from joy at any moment. "Your gift, it's perfect..."

All the air leaves his lungs as he suddenly finds you jumping on him, knocking the wind out of him, and he groaned slightly, taken off guard. "I'm glad you liked it," he murmured softly, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ignore the blissful feeling of having your weight press down on him.

"It's my favorite gift of all," you murmur, biting your lip as an idea suddenly crossed your mind, one that would most definitely be the perfect way to thank Theo for his gift.

He leant his head further back on the headboard, exhaling as he clenched his fists underneath the covers.

"Is that so?" he murmured, eyes still closed.

"Mhm," you murmured, adjusting your position until you had slid the sheets down, straddling Theo. Your bare thighs hugged him, and you could feel his growing erection pressing into your clothed cunt, separated by just a few layers of thin clothing that could easily be taken off.

"I came here to thank you for it," you continued, slowly gyrating your hips over his, acting oblivious to the way he shifted uncomfortably underneath you.

"You already did," he grunted, opening his eyes and suppressing a low groan, blood pounding into his ears. His dick was painfully hard underneath his boxers, pressing against your folds, as if sensing it were there.

"Did I?" you feigned innocence, quickening your movements, as you grew wetter between your legs, biting your lip to help you control your mouth better.

Theo couldn't handle it any longer. Electricity crackled in his eyes as they met yours, and his hands snapped up from his sides to grip your hips, pressing you down harshly on his cock, stopping your movements completely.

"Stop fucking moving," he growled. "You're driving me insane," he groaned, shutting his eyes tightly and taking a deep breath. "Acting like such a slut..."

You gasped softly, a tiny whimper leaving you. You could feel the warmth of his hands on your sides through the sheer material of your dress, each cold metal ring pressing into your skin hard enough to leave bruises.

"Jus' wanted to thank you," you replied innocently, bowing your head low, blinking shyly and looking up at him through your lashes as you pouted. You were manipulative like that, knowing Theo could never risk doing anything to upset you.

Another groan slipped past his lips and his grip loosened slightly. He leant his head back on the headboard, hard enough for the thud to be heard.

"You're gonna kill me amore," he whispered hoarsely.

You giggled softly, and brushed your fingers over his eyelids, making sure he closed his eyes. Then, you placed your hands on his shoulders, before they drifted to gently hold his face in your palms.

You leaned in, your mouth diving in towards his as you kissed him softly, your breath mingling with his.

Already beginning to move your hips against his, the kiss quickly turned to a sexual one as you harshly nibbled his lower lip, sliding your tongue into his mouth.

Your lips muffled his moans, and you took that as a response to slide your hands down his chest, fingertips feeling the hard muscle underneath.

He began kissing you back, unable to resist. Who could say no to a goddess?? His hips involuntarily lifted slightly, seeking friction, his cock sensing your cunt above, wanting nothing more than to tear every barrier away and sink into your tight, little hole.

Giving you that tiara was a mistake, you looked too irresistible. Too good to be true, too pretty to exist.

"Bein' driving me fucking crazy all night," he muttered. "Watching you dance around in that tiny fuckin' dress... And now, the tiara..." He exhaled sharply, a shudder traveling down his spine.

Slowly, you pulled away from the heated kiss, your lip gloss smudged, your lips covered with a mix of his and your saliva instead.

"Let me take care of you tonight," you whispered softly, you beautiful, wide eyes looking up into his pleadingly. "Let me make you feel good..."

Theo moaned. He moaned, and by God, it was the sexiest thing you had ever heard.

His dark eyes looked into yours and he kissed you hard again, lips trailing down your neck as if he could no longer resist, moving down to your dress as he bit on a nipple over the fabric, tugging upward harshly to elicit a whine from you. "Gonna ride me, Princess?"

You were soaking wet for him, your arousal having soaked your panties completely, making them uncomfortably sticky as they clung to your core.

Still, you wanted to pleasure him, so you continued to gyrate your hips over he erection, eliciting low moans from his lips.

You nodded, another whine spilling forth from your lips as he pinched a nipple over the thin fabric of your dress, twisting it harshly. "Y-yes.."

He had finally had enough. Unable to resist any longer, his hands left your hips and came to the front of your dress, rending it into two, a loud ripping sound filling the air.

You couldn't hide the very audible gasp that left your lips. Eyes widening in shock, you could only stare at him, utterly speechless. It had cost a lot, having it tailored just for you, but Theo had ripped it without second thought.

"Theo!" you gasped in surprise.

"Looks better off," was his excuse. "Gonna buy you more.." His eyes were fixated on you, on how gorgeous you looked, pink nipples hardening as they kissed the air, dressed in nothing but a tiny thong and a tiara he had bought you for your birthday.

"God, you look so, so fuckin' pretty," he groaned, hand reaching up to grab one of your tits, which fit perfectly in his large palm. He squeezed and groped your breast, as if that was all he needed to survive— your tits. "Could stare at those pretty tits for hours..."

You were still grinding your panty-clad hole against Theo's erection, your breasts heaving slightly with every movement you made. "Gonna fuck me while I'm wearing your tiara?" you whispered, biting your lip and looking at him through your eyelashes.

You slowly slid lower, placing your hands on the waistband of his boxers as you slid them down, exposing his hardened cock to the air, a hiss leaving his lips.

Your words ignited a fierce desire in him; to mark, to ruin, to impregnate... You were his property, his witch, his bitch, and his fucking slut.

His Princess outside, in front of everyone, and his whore in private, in his room, behind closed doors.

Tonight, you were both.

His balls felt heavy and full, ready to fill you with his cum, ready to make you his.

His dick slapped against his stomach, hard and erect with the veins popping out, precum leaking from the tip that had previously stained his boxers. The head of his cock was pink and swollen, aching to enter your sweet, little pussy.

You eased him into a position where he was lying down, before you clambered over him, bending down with your knees pressed into the mattress as you gripped the base of his cock with your smaller hands.

Your tongue hung low past your lips as you curled the muscle, swiping the beads of precum and pressing your lips against the tip of his cock, giving him a kiss in his most sensitive area.

He groaned, bucking his hips into your mouth, seeking friction. "Don't tease," he ordered, and you complied, knowing he had been teased enough all day, watching you prance around in that tiny dress of yours.

Before you knew it, Theo had already ripped your panties and flung them somewhere across his room, exposing your wet and glistening folds to his gaze.

He spent a few seconds trailing his gaze appreciatively over you, admiring how your pink folds puckered up for him, clenching and unclenching around nothing as they ached to feel his cock shove past your tight barrier and fill you up.

A dark chuckle left his lips. "Tsk, tsk, you want to feel me in that tight hole of yours, hmm?"

"Mhm," you whined, the sight of him enough to increase your need for him tenfold. You bit your lip, your hand spreading the precum that bubbled out from his tip across the length of his cock, using it as makeshift lube.

Your hand guided his length to your entrance, before you impaled yourself on his cock, taking all of him inside you at once.

A loud gasp left your lips, followed by a moan. You waited a few seconds to adjust to his girth before you began to move, starting out with slow movements, his dick so large that you could feel the tip grazing your insides, rearranging your internal organs.

"Fuck, fuck—" Theo gasped, as your walls gripped him like a vice, every sensation heightened with the way your walls squeezed his cock, nearly making him cum right there and then.

He was losing every bit of his remaining control as your weight on him drove him wild, the sensation overwhelming. His breaths were coming in short, ragged gasps when you led him to her entrance, the moment his tip pushed past her tight, inviting folds, he felt an exquisite constriction. Your walls were stretching to accommodate him like a perfectly fitted glove, the visible veins along his cock throbbing against the velvety warmth of her inner embrace.

"God, such a perfect little cocksleeve for me, gonna fill you up with my cum—" he rambled, hands gripping your hips harshly, his rings pressing into your delicate skin harshly enough to leave bruises. "It's gonna drip out of you for days..."

"Theo," you whined, your breathing turning erratic. Once your walls had adjusted, you began to move, setting a slow, steady rhythm, grinding your hips in circular motions. You could feel him push past your barriers, you could feel every vein drag sensually against your tight walls, and it was driving you absolutely crazy.

He sent you into a complete frenzy, physical and emotional, with the way his cock practically split you open, hitting all the right spots.

Your hands were flat against his chest, your perfectly manicured nails scratching his skin, leaving angry red welts across his toned muscles.

On feeling the angry red burn of your fingers scratching him, Theo cursed, his hips ramming upwards into yours as he began to match your slow rhythm.

But it wasn't enough, he wanted more. He needed more.

The sight of you falling apart on his cock, wearing his tiara with your pretty tits dancing in rhythm to your thrusts was enough to send him into overdrive, and his hand grabbed one of your boobs harshly, squeezing it hard enough to make you swallow your moan and let out an almost-scream, nails digging much harsher into his chest, the pleasurable pain driving him insane. "Cazzo— Cazzo Principessa, mi farai venire— Such a pretty sight..." he groaned.

You quickened your movements, as you began moving up and down his shaft, using your palms on his chest to help you bounce as you lost the pattern to your thrusts, which had now turned desperate and sporadic.

"Mhm, cum inside me," you gasped, bouncing on his cock with your head arched back, squelching sounds of skin on skin echoing throughout the room, punctuated with a symphony of moans and erotic groans.

Your tits jiggled in his face, and he caught them with his hands, squeezing and slapping them as you felt something wet slide down your cheeks as another high-pitched moan left you.

A sheen of perspiration coated both your bodies, and you could feel your mascara smudge and stream down your cheeks as you felt something wet spill out from your eyes. "Fuck, Theo, gonna cum..." you gasped.

As both of you grew closer and closer to release, your movements turned irregular, along with your breathing. A ring of cum formed at the base of Theo's cock, coating your thighs in your mixed essences.

"Vieni per me, vieni sul mio cazzo, la mia Principessa—" he rasped, your walls clenching and unclenching around him as you grew closer to release.

He was so close, chasing his high with every passing second. And then, you bounced on his cock particularly harshly, and you saw stars as your orgasm flooded you, like a sudden wave.

A scream left your lips, as you reached your high, wetness splashing out of you in endless spurts, chanting Theo's name like a mantra as he let out a guttural groan and spilled himself inside you.

You felt so full as he painted your insides white, having no intention to pull out as his hands gripped your waist harshly, keeping you right there as another wave of cum spilled into your cunt and begun to leak out.

Drained out, you fell forward, your hair splaying all over his chest as the tiara toppled down Theo's chest to the mattress.

His hands automatically drifted up to hold your back and move your hair away, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you," you whimpered, fingers holding the tiara weakly.

"You're welcome, Princess," Theo crooned, a wicked smirk plastered across on his face, already thinking of what to give you for Christmas.

A sudden thought crossed his mind, a vision of him on his knees under the mistletoe, followed by another of his mother's ring kept safely in his vault.

He grinned to himself, allowing him to close his eyes and imagine your reaction.

He looked down tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could see your face, wondering why you were so quiet all of a sudden.

But when your face came into view, he chuckled softly.

Of course.

You were already asleep.

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©nottslove 2025. do not copy, steal or claim any works/graphics as your own.

[rin-may-1103]

The Master Post.

someone asked for a master post so here we are.

Tag List? yes, there is a tag list. If you'd like to be Added, please leave a comment on the Stories Linked Post. If the tags aren't working for some reason, you can either Follow this post by clicking the bell (or the three dots) or follow the Story's Post the same way. I'll update both Relevant Posts when there is a New Part.

Yes, I have an Ao3. It's under the same user name, just with (_) instead of (-). Most of my works are locked due to personal preference, so you'll need an account if you want to read most of them.

I hope y'all keep enjoying the stories as much as I enjoy writing them.

(currently dealing with life, so posts are going to be very, very slow, sorry.)

Stories and Summaries:

The Wrong Robin Au (DP x DC):

Tim Drake saw Danny do a quadruple somersault, which resulted in him believing Danny was the first Robin for years. He still figured out Bruce but thinks Dick is in the dark. Now with the second Robin dead, and Batman quickly reaching the end of his sanity, Tim takes it upon himself to get Robin to come back. Danny is very confused when this random kid tries to blackmail him into becoming Robin.

Badger Day Au (DP x DC):

Danny is stuck in a Groundhog Day kinda situation and he would like to be let out now, please. The league is very worried.

Delilah's language (DP x DC):

Bruce Wayne approaches the Fentons because Damian is a big fan of Danny for his work in the conservation of the purpleback gorilla. So now Danny is going to the birthday of this random kid so he can teach him gorilla sign language so he can talk to the purple-back gorilla as well.

Just a Bite (DP x DC):

Danny's homeless on the streets of Gotham, when he gets a terrible idea from some passerby. Three weeks after living with the Waynes, they still haven't noticed he's not supposed to be there.

72 hours (DP x DC):

During a battle with the rest of the league, John Constantine is accidentally sent into the palace of Pariah Dark, Tyrant of the Dead, and Bane of the Living. Danny just wanted to have a simple spa day.

Biggest Regret (DP x DC):

Danny Had been optimistic when he created The Email. Three days, that's what he gave himself. Three days to fix or get out of whatever problem he was dealing with and open his laptop to restart the timer. Three days. Past him had thought that If he ever got caught they'd just kill him; it's what they said they would do this whole time, so why wouldn't he think otherwise? It's been more than three days, and at this point, he's just glad someone could fulfill his last wish.

The Disappointment (DP x DC):

Ra's has stated his disapproval of one of the twins, now Talia is rushing to get them out of there and to Bruce to be safe. Danny has other ideas.

Black Retrievers and Golden Cats (DP x DC):

He remembered how it took two hours for his mind to catch up to what he had done, two hours for him to realize he had just killed his brother. It took another two days to realize his brother was never coming back, that the pits had not worked. Damian stared at the camera footage infront of him, his family's voices buzzing with theories and analyzing everything they could. He remembered his brother's bright carefree smile just minutes before Damian had killed him. So, why? Why was he seeing it again?

College Rivalry with the Genius Toddler in the First Row. (DP X DC):

Tim doesn't understand how he's losing at university to a toddler. Danny's not having a great time, but it's fine because now he can terrorize Red Robin.

The Willpower of Space (DP X DC):

A faulty green lantern ring wakes from it's accidental eon long sleep due to how powerful Danny's willpower is. It decides that Danny is a worthy wielder and grants Danny the ability to use it. There's just one problem; Danny keeps dying. and the ring doesn't understand what's going on. Oa is very concerned.

The Weeping Boy Au (DP X DC):

I'll think of a summary later, for now, it's an expansion of this post.

The Eyes of Death Au (DP X DC):

In an attempt to prevent a cult from causing problems, Danny accidentally convinces the Justice League and Co. that he's possessing himself. Damian is not happy that his boyfriend is apparently the new June Moone.

Aspiring escape artist (DP X DC):

The new foster kid might be a little more traumatized than the other kids they usually take in for a while, but it's not like they can't handle it. That is, until Danny started sneaking out, past the bat-grade security system, without getting caught and without using his powers.

[tbaluver]

The Love And DeepSpace Men- Boyfriend Headcanons + Scenarios/ Imagines Pt. 2

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader requested: myself bc i craved writing something sweet genre: perhaps tooth rotting fluff fluff warnings: none unless you want cavities a/n: every day i wish they were real and every day i have a lads brain rot and i would gatekeep these ideas but i would never so here ya go ! lmk if i should write more of these ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა enjoy reading ! first part is here if you haven't read it! Pt.1 any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

The type of boyfriend who will finish your food whenever you can't finish it. He'll let you eat his food even when you say you're not hungry or you don't want anything. If the food he gets isn't something you would want, he'll make sure to buy something for you even if you say you don't want it.

You can expect his hand to always sneak into your lap when you lay in bed together after a long day. Gently embracing your lower stomach and whispering sweet nothings into your ear before you both fall asleep.

If you can't sleep, he'll try to join you for midnight snacks and watch whatever's on TV. He's trying his best to stay awake but you can already see him dozing off, clutching the stuffed plushie you won at the arcade.

Scenario:

You two sat on the soft grass, surrounded by a blanket of stars that painted the dark canvas of the night sky, eagerly waiting for the shooting stars to streak by.

"Xavier do you have anything in mind for what you're going to wish for?"

He turns to you, his gaze softening and a gentle smile spreads across his face. "I don't need to wish for anything else if my wish has already come true- I'm looking right at her."

Zayne:

He keeps all the little trinkets you've given him by his nightstand at home and his desk at work. That way when he wakes up you're the first thing on his mind, not that you left his mind in the first place. Each time he glances at them, he's flooded with happy memories and filled with anticipation to return to your embrace.

The type of boyfriend who puts a blanket over you if you fall asleep on the couch and eventually carries you to your shared bed.

Puts a ridiculous amount of sugar in his coffee that kind of leaves you concerned for your lover's sweet tooth.

Scenario 1:

You two lay in bed together, enjoying the lazy morning, not wanting to get up as if doing so would mean the day truly had to begin. You trace the outlines of his bare chest, your fingers dancing over the area where his heart beats.

“What are you doing?” he asks curiously as he watches you glide your fingers gently around his chest.

“Finding your heart and seeing who lives there,”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, a smile curling on his lips. “No one is there right now.”

You frown at his response, a playful pout forming on your lips. He cups your cheek, finding your reaction to be amusing and adorable. “That’s because the owner of my heart is currently right in front of me.”

Scenario 2:

As Zayne rushes to get ready for an emergency call from the hospital, his glasses are perched on top of your head.

“Zayne, aren’t you forgetting something?” you hinted, leaning in for a goodbye kiss.

“Ah yes, thank you.” He retrieves his glasses and you mock a pout. But he leans down, brushing your lips with his with a sweet kiss, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I love you. Please don’t stay up waiting for me again.”

Rafayel:

Sometimes he can be your boyfriend but sometimes he's also like your child from how much you baby him

He needs to be close to you at all times. The type of boyfriend who is all over you all the time. He needs to be close and touching you at all times. If you got hot from cuddling, he'll have either his hands or legs over your body because if you were apart for more than a second he thinks he might explode.

The boyfriend who stays up making something special for days and stays up overnight just to make it perfect just for you.

The type of boyfriend who adjusts your do not disturb on your phone so only his notification pops up whenever you're on do not disturb.

Imagine swimming in the ocean, you're enveloped in his embrace as you both gaze at the moonlight and stars above. He holds you close, resting his chin gently on the top of your head while you nestle your hand and head against his chest. It’s perfect like this. Just two of you near his homeland, the sea. Just him and you in your own world where you both find peace with the gentle sounds of the waves surrounding you both.

Sylus:

At the beginning of your relationship he redecorates his entire home so that you'll like it more and feel more inclined to stay over and stay the night at his place.

He only has a soft spot for you and only you. You see a side of him no one else does and not just that but his super silly side.

Sometimes he'll lift you onto the counter or lift you up to get what you need on a high shelf just because he wants to hold you.

The type of boyfriend who gets on his knees or sits down to be on the same level as you when you don't want to look up at him anymore. If he was sitting, he's definitely pulling you to his lap because you're not going to be the only one standing!

The type to hold all of your shopping bags and pure for you when you’re out shopping together. He does not complain about holding your purse at all, not that it would ever bother him in the first place. Also does not complain about holding all of your shopping bags, it’s literally light work for him and he would encourage you to buy more things of whatever you wanted.

Imagine after a long night at an auction, you two stumble back into your shared home not breaking the kiss. Your hands rest on Sylus’s neck, slowly sliding down as he murmurs sweet phrases against your lips. His strong arms wrap around your waist as he carries you bridal style, guiding you both toward your shared bedroom.

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

Party4U

I wish you’d get here, kiss my face

Summary: It’s your birthday, and you throw a party in hopes Spencer Reid shows up because truth is, you only threw this party for him…

A/N: ngl writing this gave me bad flashbacks and now I never want to drink again…(I’m still going to)

BYR(b4 u Reid): Alcohol, mentions of drunk people, drunk kissing (yes lawd), awkward Spencer, season 1 Spencer, reader is over 20, no use of y/n, and sexual content. Lmk if I'm missing anything.

It was getting later into the night, people were stumbling around, dancing, taking shots, and playing beer pong. It had now become a full-blown party, and everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives.

You were a little buzzed, not too much. You were pacing yourself, holding off. You were waiting for someone. He promised he'd come. And Spencer Reid never broke a promise.

Especially not today. Not on your birthday.

“Birthday girl isn’t even drunk yet! This is not good.” Your roomate Sarah shouted, clearly several drinks in. “I’m waiting for someone.” You replied, sipping from your cup.

She rolled her eyes and snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re waiting on that nervous little FBI chihuahua.” Your mouth fell open slightly. “Don’t be rude. He’s sweet. And yes, I am waiting.”

She sighed dramatically. “Well, good luck with that. This is definitely not the kind of place he’d show up to. You’re going to get stood up.”

You shook your head. Spencer wouldn’t do that. If he wasn’t coming, he’d at least call. He’d explain.

Still, as the party kept going and the minutes ticked by, you couldn’t help but feel the little twist in your stomach. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he got too nervous. This really wasn’t his scene.

Maybe the party was a bad idea.

You sighed, slipping into your room. Thankfully, it was empty. No couples, no drunken chaos. Just your stuff, your bed, and the hum of bass through the walls.

You sat at your vanity, looking at yourself in the mirror. You’d put effort into tonight. Found the perfect dress, something cute but not over the top, just enough to feel confident.

You knew Spencer didn’t care about appearances like most people. That’s part of why you liked him so much. But still, you wanted him to see you at your best.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in. It was silly to get this upset over a guy. You told yourself you’d take a few more drinks and forget about it in the morning.

Then your door creaked open.

“Sarah, I’ll be out in a bit.” You said without looking. But then-

“Hey.”

You turned quickly, and there he was.

Your whole face lit up. “Spencer!” You squealed, rushing to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He froze just for a second before placing his hands nervously and gently on your waist.

“You came! I was worried, I thought maybe…” you pulled back just enough to look at him. “I thought maybe you weren’t going to show up.”

“You were worried about me not showing up?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“Of course I was! You are my main guest.” You beamed at him. He blinked like he couldn’t quite process your words. You were always open about how you felt, always flirting, always dropping not-so-subtle hints. But somehow, Spencer Reid, certified genius, 187 IQ, turned into a socially anxious mess whenever you did.

It wasn’t that he didn’t notice. He just wasn’t sure how to reciprocate it back in a way that wasn’t so awkward. You made flirting seem so effortless, so easy. He on the other hand would just make a total fool of himself.

You tugged his hand. “Come on, we’re taking a shot.”

But he didn’t budge. You looked back and saw the nerves written all over his face. “Everything okay?”

“I,um, I don’t know anyone here. And I’ve never… drank before.” He admitted.

You tilted your head, smiling at him softly. “Aw, I get to pop your cherry?” You teased, then quickly added. “I’m kidding Spence. You don’t have to drink. We can just hang out and laugh at the ones who had too much.”

His eyes softened. “I don't want you to be bored. It's your birthday.”

“Well you're here so I won't be bored.” you said sincerely. “No, it's okay… I want us to have fun. I’ll get over it.”

“Spencer we don't have to, I promise you,” you assured him, looking deep into his eyes so he knew how serious you were. “I want to.” He replied.

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll take baby sips first.”

And then, to his surprise, you kissed his cheek. He blushed instantly.

You led him out into the crowd, fingers still laced with his, grabbing two bottles. “We can sip on these until you get a bit more comfortable.” You said into his ear, he nodded.

You then introduced him to a few friends, watching his posture shift slowly, the tension starting to ease once he realized no one was judging him. If anything, your friends seemed impressed with how highly you spoke of him. He noticed the way you held onto his arm, how you made him feel like he belonged.

“How’re you feeling?” You asked as the two of you stepped outside for some air.

“I feel… good. You know a lot of people.”

“Yeah, I tried to keep it small but, well, word got around.”

“I think it’s fascinating. That you’re so comfortable with people.” You looked up at him, smiling. “Some people think I talk too much.”

“I like it. I like listening to you talk.” He said it like it surprised even him. You blushed. “Really?”

He nodded, then straightened up. “Actually… I think I’m ready for something stronger.”

You grinned. “Alright, big guy. Let’s go.”

Inside, you let him pick the drink. You poured two shots and handed him his cup.

“You ready?”

He gave a tiny nod, and you clinked cups. The moment he drank it, he coughed, making the worst face. You handed him a chaser immediately.

“Thanks.” He said hoarsely, lips pink and eyes wide.

Soon, he loosened up even more. You could tell, he held your hand more confidently, his hand occasionally finding your waist. You liked it. He seemed…freer.

“Beer pong?” You suggested. He gave you a look. “I don’t know. I’m not great at throwing things.”

“You’re good at math. I’m sure there’s some equation you can solve to get it right.” He smiled. “I’m pretty sure the game requires physical coordination, too.”

You looked him up and down. “Well, physically, you look good.” You teased giving him a thumbs up. He blushed and you led him to the table.

Shockingly, you two were winning. Granted, your opponents were very, very drunk, but still.

When Spencer made the second-to-last cup, you cheered, high-fiving him. Your fingers interlaced and lingered, until he pulled away.

You turned toward the table, ready to shoot your shot until your felt Spencer’s hand find your waist, then slid down your back to the hem of your dress slightly adjusting it because it had ridden up a bit.

Your breath caught.

So did his.

He couldn’t believe he just did that, neither could you.

You won the game. Of course.

You guys took celebratory shots, Spencer was getting better and better each time.

Spencer sat on the couch and gestured to his lap. “What?” You asked, heart skipping. He didn’t answer, just gently pulled you down to sit on him.

One of his arm wrapped around your waist, resting on your thigh, while the other interlaced with your hand.

“Are you comfortable?” He whispered into your ear. “I always am when I’m with you.”

He looked up at you smiling. Butterflies. Everywhere.

You both sat, just watching people, content in the buzz of the room, the safety of his presence.

His fingers were now smoothing over your skin, rubbing gently, innocently, on your thigh.

You knew he probably didn’t even realize what he was doing, but it made your thoughts spiral. Your heart beat faster.

You both sat together for a little longer, having conversation about everything, your guys cheeks were flush but starting to slowly cool down. You could feel Spencer’s gaze on you, soft but nervous, like he was building up the courage to say something.

“I, um… I have a present for you.” He said quietly, fingers now fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Your heart skipped a beat. “Spence, you didn’t need to-”

“I wanted to.” He cut in, his voice firm but still shy. His eyes searched yours. “Can I give it to you? In your room?”

Your stomach fluttered. You nodded, lips tugging into a smile as you stood and offered your hand. He took it, his fingers trembling slightly against yours as you led the way to your room.

You shut the door behind him, and took a seat at the edge of your bed, and he joined you. Close enough for your thighs to brush. You watched, your chest tightening, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He opened it carefully, revealing a delicate gold necklace with a tiny diamond that shimmered under the soft light.

“Spencer…” your voice came out barely above a whisper. “This is beautiful.”

“You like it?” He asked, eyes hopeful, and nervous. “I love it.” You said genuinely, looking at him. “It’s perfect. I’m wearing this everyday.”

His mouth twitched into a small, relieved smile. “Can I put it on you?”

You turned without hesitation, he brushed your hair out the way, his fingers lightly touching your skin, featherlight and cautions, and that little contact sent a warm ripple down your spine.

He clasped it at the nape of your neck with slow, precise movements. His fingers lightly ran down your spine, and you turned to him, throwing your arms around his neck in a hug. “Thank you. I love it so much, Spence.”

“I’m really glad.” He said, his voice soft, eyes a little stunned by your closeness. His hand smoothed up and down your back, you pull back a little.

Your guys faces only inches apart, eyes low, and dazed. Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore, he was tired of depriving himself of you.

His hand came up, gently cradling your jaw, his touch careful. Then, slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, hesitant, he was scared you were going to pull away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you kissed him back like your life depended on it, you had been waiting so long for this moment and you were even willing to wait longer. Your desperation flattered him. He never imagined he could make someone feel this way.

“I’ve wanted this so bad.” You murmured against his lips, brushing your thumb along his cheeks. “Really?” He asked, you just nodded and deepened the kiss more.

His hands found your waist, bolder now, pulling you onto him, your words had given him confidence. You settled there easily, legs on both sides, hands cradling his face as your kisses turned more insistent.

You pushed him down onto your bed, hovering over him, your lips moving from his lips down to his jaw. When his hands dropped from your waist, unsure again, you gently grabbed them and brought them right back to where they belonged.

You continued leaving a trail down his neck, teeth grazing his skin, listening to the tiny breathy sounds he couldn’t hold in. You barely heard it but, it was there. Your name, a whisper that lit something wild inside of you.

You reached for his tie, loosening it, and discarding it somewhere on the floor in your room. Your fingers hovered over the buttons of his shirt, you glanced up at him, silently asking for permission.

He nodded slowly, jaw tight with want, and you undid them, one by one, revealing more of him. He propped himself on his elbows, and pulled you into him for another kiss.

You slowly slid the shirt off of him, moving the fabric off of his arms. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your dress, dragging it up slowly, cautiously, until the edge of your underwear peeked.

You broke the kiss to take in this sight of him, your fingers exploring the planes of his chest, the softness of his skin. You planted kisses on him, over his heart, and when he tilted your chin up with his finger, his lips found yours again, hungrier.

You felt him, hard beneath you, pressing up against you, and instinctively, your hips rolled down against him, pulling a surprised moan from his mouth.

“Spencer…” you breathed out, your voice barely hanging on. His hands gripped your waist again, then slid lower to your ass, guiding your hips as he moved you over him with more intention. His breath was shaky, his voice low and warm and desperate.

He said your name, like a confession.

You grind your hips down again, his hands gripped you tighter, encouraging you to keep going, to keep moving against him. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, mouth parted in disbelief at the pleasure that rolled through him.

He looked completely undone, and it was just from you sitting on him, fully clothed.

You leaned down, kissing along the column of his throat, letting your lips linger just beneath his ear. “You okay?” You whispered, breath warm against his skin.

He nodded quickly, then stammered out. “Y-yeah. Definitely. More than okay.”

You smiled, biting back a laugh, because the way he looked, completely wrecked already, was maybe the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You sat up slightly, hands trailing down his chest, appreciating every inch of him.

“You’re really something else.” You said, brushing your thumb across his lower lip. He caught your hand, kissed your palm. So gentle and slow it made your breath hitch.

“You’re the one that’s something else.” He murmured, voice hoarse. “You’re perfect, everything you do.”

That made your chest ache, you leaned down, kissed him again, slow, deep, and meaningful. You needed him to feel what words can't say.

Spencer grabbed your waist, gently guided you onto your back, moving over you cautiously.

His mouth moved to the side of your neck, your dress slipped higher as you spread your legs slightly, letting him fit between them.

Your fingers found the back of his neck, pulling him to your lips. Spencer’s hand slid slowly up your body, tentative but curious, his fingers tracing the edges of your dress as it rose. When he finally pulled back to look at you, really look, his eyes landed on your black lace underwear, and he just admired.

He couldn’t believe this was real, you felt like a dream.

His fingers brushed over the fabric, hesitant. Gentle. You watched the awe on his face, the way he took you in like you were something sacred.

“Do you… want to take them off?” You softly ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes darted up to meet yours, wide and startled. His chest rose and fell faster now, the weight of the moment clearly settling over him.

“We don’t have to.” You said quickly. “We can take things slow, Spencer.”

He swallowed hard, and gave you a nod. “I-I want this. I really do. I just… don’t want this to be…” he paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t want it to feel like a one-time thing. You’re not that for me.”

You nodded, smiling at him, your chest warm. “I know. Me neither.”

With a soft exhale, he gently reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it back down to cover you up.

He moved off of you, grabbed your hand pulling you up on your feet. His hands were careful, reverent, as he adjusted the strap of your dress onto your shoulder.

You reached for his shirt, draping it back over his shoulders and slowly buttoning it up, watching his cheeks flush a soft red under your gaze.

He cleared his throat. “What?”

“Nothing.” You said, smiling.

He hesitated, then asked. “Did you… want to keep going?”

You but your lip, nodding. “Of course I did. But I agree. When we do decide to… take that next step… it should be special. Not with a bunch of drunk people stumbling around downstairs.”

He laughed quietly, relieved. “Yeah..”

You kissed him again, softly.

“Should we go back to the party?” You asked, fingers laced with his. He nodded. “You go for now, I’ll be out there in a bit.” He tells you, you smirked at him knowing why he was going to stay back.

“Alright, if you need any help or anything just give me a call.” You teased, he looked at you shaking his head at your teasing. “Very funny.” He sarcastically said, but you caught the small smile tugging at his lips.

You opened your bedroom door and stepped out, flashing him one more smile before closing it behind you.

“Where have you been?” Sarah asked the second you turned around. “I was with Spencer.” You replied casually.

Her eyes widen. “Did you guys just-”

“No, we didn’t.” You cut her off quickly. “Let’s step away, come on.”

You led her away from your room, and thankfully she had gotten distracted by someone else and wandered off.

You glanced around the house, realizing how tired you were of the party. Your home felt overcrowded, loud, and no longer fun. You were close to calling the cops on your own party, but luckily the neighbors beat you to it.

You stood outside as an officer explained the noise complaint and curfew.

“Alright, sir. I’ll shut it down.” You said with a polite smile. He nodded, and you waved him off.

Back inside, you cut the music and made the announcement. “Alright guys, party’s over.” You watched everyone slowly trickle out. “Sorry.” You said to a few as they passed.

Spencer found you shortly after. He looked concerned. “What happened?”

“Police got called.” You told him with a shrug.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You smiled. “Honestly, I was about to call them myself if people didn’t start leaving soon.” He laughed, and you joined him.

Once it was just the two of you, and your very drunk roommates who had knocked out in their rooms, you both started cleaning up a little.

“It’s a mess.” You said, tossing red solo cups into the trash bag. “Yeah. People are gross.” He muttered as he poured out a half-full beer. “Thank you for helping me.” You said sincerely. “No problem.” He replied, flashing you a sweet smile.

After most of the mess was cleaned, you both settled on the couch. You leaned into his side, his arm wrapping comfortably around you.

“Can you spend the night?” You hesitantly asked, titling your head up to look at him. He nodded almost instantly. “Of course.”

You smiled, but he suddenly stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Left something in the kitchen. I’ll be back.” He assured you. You nodded, watching him walk off. When he returned, your eyes lit up. He was holding a small cake with lit candles. It was your birthday cake, the one you had completely forgotten about.

He started singing softly, and your cheeks hurt from how hard you were smiling.

“Make a wish.” He said once he finished, and you did. You closed your eyes and blew out the flames.

He held the cake out toward you. “Take a bite.”

You eyes him suspiciously but leaned in anyway, and sure enough, he gently pushed the cake into your face. Just a little frosting dotted your nose and chin.

“Spencer!” You gasped, laughing as you lightly hit his arm. He laughed too, setting the cake down, and then leaned in to wipe the frosting from your skin with his finger. You watched him as he brought it to his lips, sucking it clean.

He moved closer, pressing his lips to yours.

“Happy birthday.” He whispered as he pulled back just slightly. You smiled at him. “Thank you.” And then you kissed him again, slower, softer…

Dividers from @hyuneskkami !!

Writing this was fun!! I love bold Spencer! 🤭 also listen to the song, I just rediscovered it and became obsessed again. Live, Love, Laugh Charli xcx <3

Thank you to all who reblog & comment!! I really appreciate it sm!

~ Tag List ~

@samslovebug @alastorssimp @sleepysongbirdsings @khxna

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter eight

⭐︎ Dead-eyed. Dead weight.

Warnings: angst, angst, angst. hurt/comfort. sickness. mentions of death. post apocalypse au. grumpy x sunshine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Something happens that had none of you prepared and the fear of loss creeps up on your group... once again.

Word count: 8.5k

Author's note: Please read !! @hellfire--cult helps with allllll my chapters, we planned this story together, from start to finish. A lot of the things that happen here, are her ideas and I just write them. She not only brainstormed with me, she also writes with me and by that I mean, she writes a lot of scenes, like in the last chapter for example, there is a huge portion that was written by Roe, not by me. So please keep in mind that she is behind this story as well, don't forget her! Give her the love and the credit she deserves ♡

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

It started off with a sneeze the night before and a scratchy feeling in your throat before the nausea took over. It then progressed into a painful cough accompanied by a headache. You knew it would happen the moment uncomfortable shivers started running down your body but you tried to blame it on the cold weather, at first at least. You knew it wasn’t the cold. It was the rain you and Steve got caught in two nights ago. 

Anxiety took over the second it dawned on you that a fever was rising up. You took some of the vitamin pills you found, hoping that they would help. They didn’t, of course. 

You are freezing, shaking terribly even after putting on a thicker sweater under your leather jacket. Your nose is starting to feel stuffy causing your head to hurt even more. Your hands are cold and shivering. Your head pounds a little harder each time Nancy hits a bump on the road. So far, you were good at hiding the state you were in until now – until it really started kicking in and you put your hand to your head after a particular big bump on the road. A wince falls from your lips and Steve, who sits across from you with a book in his hand, instantly looks up at you, alarmed and worried when he notices the pained look on your face. 

He lowers the book he is holding and places it on the bench he is sitting on. He furrows his eyebrows when he notices sweat coating your forehead and the trembling in your hand… the trembling in your whole body as his eyes scan you from head to toe. 

“Sunshine?” 

You don’t react. You place your palm against your forehead and lean back, clearing your throat before you break into a fit of coughs. Dry Coughs. 

Oh no.

Steve gets up and nearly crashes to his knees as he crouches down before you. He places a comforting hand on your calf as he speaks your name softly, not noticing how the RV has slowed down and how Nancy and Eddie share worried looks. 

“Are you okay?”

You sniffle quietly and push yourself up so you can straighten your back. You clear your sore throat and lick your lips that feel dryer than usual. You look down at him, noting the worry in his hazel eyes. 

You open your mouth but don’t even manage to utter a word before he cuts you off. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he warns as he glares into your eyes, making you cower back slightly.  

Nancy rushes into the back the moment she parks the RV on the side of the road. There is a deep line between her eyebrows and a frown sinking into her features as she halts beside Steve. She reaches her hand out to you and touches your forehead with the back of her hand. 

Steve looks up at her and sees the way her eyes widen. 

“You are burning up!” 

She already knew you weren’t feeling good, but she hoped that it was just a little cold and that it would pass in a few days after some rest, but instead, it got progressively worse over the past couple of hours. 

“Oh shit,” Eddie mumbles, bringing his hand up to his face. 

Steve and Nancy share a look, one filled with anxiety. And you don’t want that, you don’t want them to worry. You will be alright. You just need to rest. 

“I’m–” cut off by another painful cough. You shut your eyes as you cover your mouth and turn in the other direction, not wanting to get them sick as well. You blink back the tears that make their way into your eyes and take a few deep breaths before you look back at them. “I-I’ll be okay, just feeling a little under the weather.” 

“You’re not feeling under the weather, you are sick! Which isn’t a surprise at all considering you were running around in the cold fucking rain!” Nancy raises her voice as she glares at both you and Steve. “And we don’t have anything to treat you–”

“It’s just a cold, Nancy…” You reply weakly as you tug your jacket tighter around you. Sharing a look with Steve, you instantly look down again, not bearing to look into his eyes. “It’s gonna pass in a few days…” 

It didn’t. 

It didn’t pass. 

It kept getting worse. 

Worse and worse. 

Two days later, your whole body was aching. Your muscles were sore and your throat was dry. Coughing hurt, and your head was pounding. You tried to hold yourself together, to keep your head high and your back straight, to pretend to be okay so they didn’t have to worry but when the weakness hit, your eyes turned glassy and your lips blue, they could see that you were getting worse and there was no hiding that anymore. You couldn’t even if you tried, not after this morning, not after you nearly collapsed trying to get a glass of water. Luckily, Eddie was there to catch you.

Eddie and Nancy were worried, that was obvious. You were unaware of the fear in Steve’s eyes though, even now as he crouches down before you, touching your forehead with the back of his hand. 

He frowns deeply as he stares at you. Your blue lips are trembling, your eyes keep falling shut even when you try to keep them open. You are burning up and he knows that your fever is getting higher and higher. There is a light whistle in your throat as you keep taking deep breaths, struggling to do so. 

The feeling in his chest is sickening. He feels the bile rising up in his throat, nausea sinking in more and more after coming back empty-handed from his run into the nearest town. The pharmacy was empty, completely wiped clean. He couldn’t even find painkillers. 

It was the second pharmacy he tried his luck in. 

He was gone for two hours, and your state got worse in the meantime. 

Eddie is sitting on the bench, biting his fingernails as he stares at you. He’s not moving, he is just sitting there, watching you wide-eyed… like you had already left. 

Nancy is pacing back and forth with the map in her hand. Her eyebrows are furrowed strongly, her blue eyes showing nothing but stress. 

“Sunshine?” Steve whispers, brushing away the hair in your face. He winces at the hotness of your skin, he can’t imagine how bad you must be feeling right now. He moves his hands down to your blanket and brings it up higher, rubbing your arm over it. 

“Hmm?” You open your eyes and squint them when your vision blurs, and he appears twice before you. 

He places his hand on your forehead, cupping it. 

“How bad are you feeling right now?”

You’re not in control of your body, it’s too weak. You can’t push yourself up and convince him that you are feeling fine, not even if you tried. You can imagine what you look like right now. 

You clear your throat only to wince in pain at the soreness in you. 

“I’m… still hanging on.” Your voice is hoarse. Barely. You are barely holding on. You’re in and out of sleep, your body is feeling weaker as the hours go by, and you are not sure how much longer you can go without medicine. “Still hanging on, Stevie.” 

Your hand falls to his wrist, and he nearly flinches at the coldness of it. The sickness is spreading, claiming you entirely. It all happened too quickly. It happened in the blink of an eye. 

Your touch is usually so warm, now it’s icy cold. The look in your eyes is always filled with happiness; now it’s… it’s pained yet empty. Your energy, usually so contagious, is now barely there, gone… dead. 

The sickening realization begins to sink in the longer he looks at you. 

You came into his life so suddenly. You came out of nowhere. You stepped into it and shone a bright light into his greying life. He was wilting, like all the flowers in this world, until you came along and gave him what he needed; the sun. Only recently did he begin to see the good in things, even out here in this wasteland. He was trying to see the good. He was trying to look forward to things. He was trying to live. 

But now with you falling sick, he is already beginning to lose that part of himself once again. 

Will he lose you suddenly too? 

This is why he didn’t want to let you in. 

He let you in just to lose you again. 

He can’t let that happen, not again. 

“Keep hanging on for me, okay?” He whispers, shaking you a little. There is desperation in his voice and also in his eyes. 

Your mouth twitches, lips curling into a smile. You squeeze his wrist, even if weakly. 

“Always.” You whisper. 

Steve tries to smile, but it barely comes out as such. 

“Promise?” He leans closer, missing the warmth of you. 

You nod and hum softly. 

“Promise, Stevie.” 

He blinks a few times. The beating of his heart changes, becoming intense the longer he thinks about what will happen if he doesn’t find medicine in time. His chest starts to ache more and more. 

He won’t bear it. He won’t. 

“You will be okay,” he assures you, taking your hand into his own, he gives it a tight squeeze. “You hear me? I’m gonna get you some antibiotics and you will be okay again, sunshine.” 

Your eyelashes flutter as you look into his hazel eyes. Even through your haze, you can now see the worry in them, the fear. The fear of having to bury someone else. 

You take a deep breath and lick your lips. You rub your thumb against his knuckles, admiring the softness in his features. 

“Is that… worry I see on your face, Cowboy?” You manage to ask, chuckling softly. 

Eddie smiles behind Steve, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. He is worried, just as worried as Steve is. 

“Get some more sleep, okay?” Steve whispers as he adjusts the pillow beneath your head. 

Nancy takes another look at you. Not a single word falls from her lips, but her eyes say it all. She doesn’t want to lose another friend. She turns away and walks back to the driver's seat. She sits down and stares at the road with a blank look on her face. She takes a few deep breaths, trying to mend the fear that is building up in her. 

She looks into the rearview mirror, watching how Steve refuses to leave your side, even after tucking you in already. His body is tense, she can see it in his back and his shoulders. 

He cares about you. He is afraid to lose you – even if he won’t admit it out loud. 

She looks down at the map in the passenger seat, she grabs it and unfolds it. She goes over the areas you have marked up as safe. Steve had already gone through two of those towns and he came back empty handed. There is another that hasn’t been checked out yet, about ten miles down the road. 

She doubts that the pharmacy will be any different there. 

What worries her is the areas that have been marked as unsafe – the red areas. The big towns and the cities that are crawling with infected. She has a hunch that that is where they can find the medicine that you need, that is where they will have some sort of luck but it’s dangerous. Very dangerous. 

Even with her hunch, there is no guarantee that there will be any antibiotics or painkillers and even if, the chance to come back alive from a place crawling with the dead is zero to one. 

She looks back at Steve once more, she knows that he will want to try, she knows that he will try. 

But how will she let him, knowing that he will walk right into his death. 

She can’t lose you. She can’t lose him either. 

She can’t lose the both of you. 

So she hopes, she really hopes that the next safest town is where luck will be on your side. 

Eddie plops down in the passenger seat with a sigh. He turns to look at her, sharing the worry that is painted into her eyes. Nothing has to be said. They both feel the same thing. They both feel fear. They don’t want to experience another loss. They don’t want to feel the loss of you. 

Eddie takes the map from Nancy’s hands. He squints his eyes as he looks down at it, at the next destination. Another small town. 

Nancy can see the doubtful look on his face and the uncertainty in his eyes. She feels the same. 

“It’s worth a try.” She whispers, shrugging as she starts the RV. 

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs as he sinks into his seat. “What if it turns out to be just like all the towns before though?” 

She shrugs but she knows the answer to that. She knows where to look. But she isn’t ready for that. She looks into the rearview mirror one more time, watching as Steve settles into the seat closest to you. There is worry in his features but there is also something else now. Determination. 

She breathes out shakily and holds the steering wheel tightly as she presses her foot onto the gas pedal. 

“I don’t know.”

-

Just like Nancy had suspected, Steve and Eddie came back empty handed after yet another unsuccessful run into a town. Two days have passed since then and your condition only worsened. 

She had tried her best to treat you with herbs, making you soup and tea. Keeping you warm with blankets and making sure that the RV wasn’t cold at any time. Though nothing was helping. 

Steve’s state wasn’t great either. He slept less than usual, ate less and was mostly on his feet when not in the RV. He was searching and searching. But the longer he went without finding you the things that you need, the more he grew sick with worry but also with anger. 

And it is showing now especially. 

The anger has taken hold of him completely. Disbelief and pure rage lingers in his usual hazel eyes, now they are dark with fury. 

Eddie stands beside Nancy, though he isn’t looking at the map spread on the hood of the RV or between them. He is busy looking down at the city before them. Red lightning curses over it, thunder rumbles in the sky and the earth beneath his feet shakes every few minutes. Chills run down his back. Red lightning is never a good sign. It means the affected city or town is infested with something, crawling with the dead. 

It’s unsafe. 

“We can’t go out there.” Nancy states, keeping her arms crossed. And it makes sense, it is stupid to go out there, dangerous. 

She knows there is no point in arguing with him. But she can’t let him do this. 

“This place is crawling with infected, with monsters and whatnot!” She snaps at him after a long moment of staring into his glaring eyes. “Look at it, Steve! Open your goddamn eyes!” 

With his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face, he glares at her. 

“My eyes are open, Nance. Are yours?” He snaps back, feeling the anger rush through his veins. “I don’t care what this place is crawling with, I don’t care what’s out there. I care about what’s in there!” He almost yells as he points at the closed door of the RV. “She’s sick and she is not getting any better. She won’t get better. She is barely hanging on!” 

Nancy clenches her jaw, faltering a little. 

He is right. 

You won’t get better, not without antibiotics. She is not a doctor and she doesn’t know for sure but given the fact that you got caught in the rain and spent all night stuck in a cold car, it has to be pneumonia. Your symptoms align with the sickness. And she remembers what Mike looked like when he had it a few years back, at least until he got the medicine that he needed. 

“How much longer does she have, huh?” Steve throws his hands up. He feels grateful that it’s anger leading his emotions now and not something else. 

Nancy turns away from him, closing her eyes, she pinches the bridge of her nose. Frustration bubbles up inside of her but also fear of what will happen in the next few days or even in the next few hours if you don’t get the help that you need. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie mumbles, putting his hands up. He shakes his head at Steve. “Don’t.”

Steve scoffs as he turns to face him now. “Don’t what? Don’t speak the truth? You know I’m right, Munson. You know we have no other choice but to make that run. You don’t wanna go with me? Fine. I get it. But I am going–”

“No, you are not!” Nancy points her finger at him as she turns back around. “You are not making that run! It’s a death sentence! What good will it do to go in there?” She asks, pointing into the direction of the city. “You are not coming back. How is that gonna change anything?” 

Steve can’t believe what he is hearing, what he is seeing when he takes a look at Eddie. He looks uncertain, like he is agreeing with her. 

Disappointment fills his heart as he looks at his friends. 

“I survived Starcourt, I survived the upside down, I survived this world. What makes you think that I’m not capable of coming back alive from this?” 

He doesn’t care how he will do it, if he will have to fight his way through monsters or a hoard of infected. He doesn’t care if he will have to look all day if it means saving you. 

He feels responsible for what happened. He keeps telling himself that this could have been prevented. If he just set up camp like he planned to do, none of this would have happened. 

Seeing you like this now pains him and it reminds him of why he didn’t want to let you in, in the first place. He didn’t want to care. He didn’t want to like you. He didn’t want to have to worry again. The moment he started doing so, you were already tainted by his bad luck. You were already just another loss in his life. You were another temporary thing. 

But he can’t let that happen. He can’t lose you. Not now. 

They stay quiet. Both of them. It only fills him with an even deeper disappointment. 

“I can’t believe you… You cared so much back in Hawkins. What happened to that?” 

Eddie lifts his head, his eyebrows furrow in anger, his eyes flash with it too while Nancy looks down with a guilt ridden look on her face. 

“I care, alright? I care but Nancy is right, this out there… is a death sentence! We are walking straight into it and we might not come back!”

“We can fucking try!” Steve yells, not caring about keeping his volume down any longer. “I will try, I don’t give a damn about what you will do but I’m trying–”

“Don’t fight…” Your weak voice cuts in and Steve’s head instantly snaps towards you. You’re standing leaned against the doorway to the RV. A thin blanket is wrapped around your shoulders. Your hair is hanging loosely down your shoulders, no sign of a braid there like usual. You look worse than before. Your skin is losing its color. Your eyes look dull. Your face looks thinner. You look even sicker out here in the daylight. And it makes his chest ache terribly. “Don’t fight because of me.” 

You make your way down the steps on shaky and weak legs. 

Eddie holds his hand up towards you and Nancy uncrosses her arms as she eyes you worriedly. Steve instantly takes a step forward, already holding his hands up just in case. 

A cough breaks out of your mouth, causing your entire body to jolt in pain. You hold your hand up to your lips and clutch your stomach. Before you can even try to catch yourself, your knees buckle and you lose balance, nearing the ground as you fall. 

“Whoa!” Steve mumbles loudly as he reaches his arms out to you, sweeping them under your armpits and catching you before the fall. He lifts you up and hugs you to his chest. “You’re supposed to be in bed.” He grumbles into your ear. 

You sniffle, blinking away the tears that build up in your sensitive eyes. You can’t find it in yourself to fight him, to step away and stand on your own feet. You are weak. You hate it. 

“I don’t want you to fight because of me.” You repeat in desperation, lifting your head and looking up at him with your glassy eyes. 

This is why he didn’t want to care again. 

This hurts. 

The worry. The fear. The pain that takes over his heart from seeing you suffer. 

Your body feels weak against him. Your eyes are so… lifeless. He can’t bear it. He can’t. 

“Come on,” he whispers as he begins to lead you back into the RV. He wraps his arm around your waist and holds you tightly, helping you up the stairs. “Let’s get you back inside.” 

You comply but not without looking back at Nancy and Eddie one more time. You part your lips, wanting to say something but no words come from your mouth when you see the way they look at you. Like they are worried, like they are sick with fear, like they are already grieving. 

You blink. 

Even through the haze in your mind, you realize the look on their faces. They care. They care because you mean something to them. Because you are not only their companion now but also a friend. 

The tears that welled up in your eyes before were from physical pain, the ones now are emotional. For the first time in your life, you found people who see you as a friend. An actual friend. Not someone to use and toss away when you are no longer needed. They see you as their friend just like you see them too.

And of course you had to find them during the end of the world, getting closer and closer to them in the process, only to fall sick. It’s only a matter of time until you close your eyes for the last time. You can feel it. You can feel the sickness claiming you whole. You can feel death creeping up on you. This is just your luck. 

Steve leads you back to your bed and helps you back down. He grabs your legs gently and puts them on the mattress carefully before he tucks you in, making sure the pillow is comfortable and soft beneath your head. 

Even he started caring. Even he became your friend. 

You look at his face, at his features that were always so covered in anger and defensiveness when you first met him. Now they are soft. His hazel eyes are filled with sadness and it doesn’t help your case at all. 

A tear slips from your eyes and down your cheek. You try to lift your hand to wipe it away before he sees it but you are too slow. 

His eyebrows knit together and he places his hand on your shoulder. 

“What’s wrong? Did it get worse…? Are you–”

“I’m weighing you guys down,” you whisper, shakily. Your lips curl downwards as tears start falling freely. “Y-You were right. I am a nuisance. Now I am one.”

Anger bubbles up inside of him but also guilt for ever saying something like that about you. 

He shakes his head, squeezing your shoulder softly as he brings his other hand up to your cheek, wiping away the tears. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he glares at you. 

Your bottom lip wobbles and your chest heaves as you try to breathe. You clutch your blanket tightly. 

“It’s the truth… You already slowed down because of me and made unnecessary runs–”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done it too.”

You would. Of course you would. You would do anything for them. For him. 

You swallow and the scratchiness, the dryness in your throat makes you wince and causing more tears to build up in your eyes. You close them and try to take deep breaths. 

Whatever he is saying, you know that you are right. You are weighing them down and they – he is taking unnecessary risks just to help you. You will never forgive yourself if something happens to him while he is trying to save you. 

“Leave–” You pause when your voice cracks. You try to keep your composure, to keep breathing, to stop crying. You open your eyes again and look at him. “Leave me in the nearest house, I’ll be okay…”

Steve looks at you as though you had gone crazy. His eyes flash with disbelief as anger rushes through him. How dare you make him care only to give up so easily now? 

“We are not doing that.” It’s not his voice that sounds through the RV, it’s Eddie’s. He is looking at you just like Steve is, though with less anger and with more sadness.

Steve is starting to breathe heavily as the seriousness of this whole situation sinks in more and more. His heart beats a little faster. Desperation clings to him. 

“You have to… You are going off the main road for me,” you say with a heavy voice, looking between Eddie and Nancy, who now stands in the doorway too, shaking her head in disapproval. 

Steve pushes himself up, getting back on his feet. He runs his fingers through his hair and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to think, to think of a solution. 

Nancy pushes past him and kneels down before you. Her blue eyes are troubled, filled with emotions you can’t all read. She brings her hand up to your forehead, cupping it gently. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers.

Steve looks down at you as he paces around. He can read you so well. You, you are usually so hopeful. Filled with life and the will to live and fight your way through this world. You are now ready to give up, to find a place to die. 

This is not what you want. This was never something that you wanted. This had always been something you were afraid of, you told him that before. You were afraid to die alone. You were afraid to lose your life before finding your way back home and seeing your family. 

Now you are right where you never wanted to be. 

“It does– My house, my address, it’s on my ID… so if you head there, tell my parents–”

“Shut up!” He yells, exploding. He can’t do this. He can’t listen to you talk like this. He can’t watch you giving up. 

You flinch a little, staring wide eyed at him but with eyes still glassy like before. Nancy looks down while Eddie eyes him, scanning his face and the look in his eyes. 

Steve clenches his jaw, pointing his finger at you as he breathes heavily. 

“I– We are not leaving you!” He snaps at you, holding back his own tears. “Get that through that thick head of yours. We are not leaving you.” 

He gives you another pointed look before he snatches the map out of Eddie’s hand and makes his way over to the driver’s seat, where neither Eddie nor Nancy can see him. He plops down and opens the map but his breathing is so heavy and his eyes burn so hotly that he can’t focus on it. 

He leans back and closes his eyes, he swallows the lump in his throat. This moment reminds him of what he lost. This reminds him of what could have been if he just handled in time. This feels like he is living through it all once again and it kills him.

He made mistakes before. He won’t do them again. He won’t experience another loss. He won’t let anything take away from him again. 

Never again.

-

It’s silent and peaceful. The RV has never been quieter than this. It’s dark inside, except for the small candle burning on the table he is sitting at. The fire outside where Nancy and Eddie sit around, isn’t large enough to shine through the windows. They had to keep it low to avoid unwanted attention from the city nearby. Monsters and infected probably don’t come out this far, but it’s always better to be safe. 

He is staring at his backpack, at the nailed bat that has accompanied him for years now. He is tapping his finger against the counter, fighting an inner battle as his eyes flicker back and forth between you, his backpack and the red lightning in the distance. 

He knows what he has to do. 

It’s quiet. Too quiet. 

He leans his body in your direction, squinting his eyes as he looks at you, trying to see better in the darkness. 

His heart leaps a little the longer he watches you. You aren’t moving. At all. Your chest isn’t rising up and down anymore. It looks like you stopped… breathing. 

“No…” He whispers as he gets back on his feet, swallowing the growing nausea as he looks at your pale face. He feels like throwing up already, his heart is racing in his chest as he crouches down before you. He whispers your name, once… twice… 

“Sunshine?” Steve whispers shakily as he brings his hand up to your face. 

“Still here…” You manage to croak out. Your lashes flutter when you open your eyes as best as you can. 

His head hangs low for a moment as his eyes close and he takes a deep breath. His hand moves down to your wrist and then to your hand, he holds it softly. 

Thank god. 

“I’m still here, Cowboy.” You whisper before your eyes fall shut again and sleep begins to lull you back in again. 

Still. You are still here. 

He knows what he has to do. He knows what he will do. 

He tilts his head up again, watching how you take slow and weak breaths. But you are still here. 

He is determined, desperate. He moves closer to you, running his fingers through your hair, he tucks it away and out of your face. He caresses your cheek, feeling his heart long, feeling it ache for something else entirely – though he pushes it aside… for now… or for always. 

“You’re gonna be okay, Sunshine. I promise. You hear me?” 

You only hum in response. 

“Just hang on for me, okay? Hang on.” Steve whispers as he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it. A kiss you barely feel. A kiss you will forget. 

He gets back up and puts his jacket on, no longer caring about Eddie’s and Nancy’s plans. Time is running out. Time that you don’t have. He won’t sit here and watch you wilt. He won’t sit here while you die. He won’t let that happen. Never again. So he grabs his backpack and Nancy’s rifle that she left inside the RV after swapping it for your gun. 

He looks through the blinds on the window, making sure that neither of them will come in when he slips out but they seem to be in a deep conversation. They won’t notice. 

Steve turns around to face you one more time. His soft eyes stay on you for a second. His heart pounds in his chest, his body fills with adrenaline at what he is about to do. 

You will be okay. He will make sure of that. 

He will fix this again. 

“I’ll be back soon, Sunshine.” He promises and he prays to whatever is above to protect you, to make you hold on a little longer. He wishes he had something to keep you safe with. 

Steve falters in his step when he remembers the hair tie around his wrist. He looks down at it, at the lilac colored hair tie that belonged to his best friend. It’s old. Back from the Family Video days. Robin always forgot to grab extra hair ties or clips and would then complain about her hair getting into her face and being unable to tie it back. At one point he bought a package of hair ties and would put one around his wrist until it needed to be used. The lilac one was her favorite. 

He traces it before he takes it off his wrist. He tiptoes back to you and he picks up your wrist gently, placing the hair tie around it. He holds your wrist for a moment, tapping it softly. 

He never believed in things like this, but maybe it’s a good idea to start now. 

“Keep her safe for me,” he whispers to her.

Steve squeezes your hand reassuringly before he turns around and slips away from you and out of the RV. 

-

The wood in the fire crackles, the wind blows through the trees around the place they set up camp in. The red lightning in the distance isn’t close enough to illuminate the sky above them but it keeps flashing in their peripheral vision. 

Eddie is staring into the fire. He is quiet unlike usual. 

Nancy doesn’t mind the silence but it feels odd not to hear his voice. She feels the tension radiating off him. She feels it herself. 

A stack of books lies on the grass beside her feet. Books about herbs, about natural remedies for sicknesses. But everything she tried helping you with was to no avail. Not the eucalyptus teas nor the peppermint. You need antibiotics and fever reducers. Steve is right. 

“I was thinking…” Eddie finally speaks up after hours of silence between them. Since they sat down to do night watch, they haven’t talked at all. Nancy was too immersed in reading the books beside her while Eddie had scanned the map over and over, and tried to come up with a plan. 

Nancy looks up from the book, cocking her eyebrow in question. 

He straightens in his seat, pressing his hands together as he leans forward, not looking away from the fire yet. 

“I’m making the run into the city come morning,” he states, determined. “Those books won’t help,” he points at the ones she has read through already. “And we can’t rely on the smaller towns ahead of us.”

She opens her mouth to speak but Eddie holds his hand up at her and finally looks into her eyes. 

“Small towns are usually safe, they’re not crawling with infected or monsters as much as big cities are. People like us, survivors go for places like these. They avoid that,” he mumbles,  pointing his thumb into the direction where the city lies. “It’s crawling with fucking everything, so people won’t even try to get in there, which means we have the best chance at finding stuff there. Everything that she needs, antibiotics, pain killers, fever reducers.”

Nancy’s shoulders slump. Her eyebrows knit together as she looks at the RV. 

He is right, just like Steve is. 

He is right and she knows it's what needs to be done. 

She nods slowly, closing the book in her hand, she throws it on the ground. Leaning back into her camping chair, she looks into the fire. 

“Okay,” Nancy whispers, accepting the danger he is about to face. She is about to face. She won’t let you die.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, tilting his head down a little as his brown eyes scan her face. 

She nods again and looks up at him. 

“Yeah, but I’m going with you.” 

He doesn’t protest. He works best with her. 

“In and out, easy… right?” Eddie chuckles, though his heart skips a nervous beat. 

Her lip twitches, curling into a small smile as she looks at the guy who became her closest friend. Her best friend. 

“Easy.” 

He takes a deep breath and nods to himself. He looks up at the sky. 

“Sun is gonna rise soon,” he comments as he looks at the faint light behind the clouds. 

“Yeah.” 

He gets up with a sigh, “I’m gonna go tell Steve.” 

“Alright.” Nancy gives him a tight lipped smile. 

He turns around and starts making his way towards the stairs of the RV. He reaches his hand out to grab the handle. One step closer and he halts in his tracks when the sound of rustling makes him freeze. 

A cold shudder runs down his spine when he turns back around. His eyes instantly lock with Nancy’s. Her blue eyes are troubled and she instantly pushes herself up, grabbing your gun from her belt. 

“Whoa,” Eddie whispers, making his way back to her side after he grabs the axe he left on the ground. 

“Could be an animal,” Nancy murmurs as she scans the area. She ignores the beating of her heart. 

She parked the RV right next to a big forest, making sure that it was hidden behind trees and bushes, now it doesn’t seem to be the best idea as she looks around trying to spot the culprit who caused the noises. 

Eddie squints his eyes, grabbing the handle of the axe tighter as he steps in front of her. 

“It better be.” He mumbles nervously. He doesn’t want to get caught by an infected or a demo– something. 

He feels his heart in his throat when he sees the figure descending out from behind the bushes, pushing its way out onto the field and in his and Nancy’s direction. 

“Fuck…” 

Nancy swallows. She clicks the safety off on the gun and brings it up a little, not aiming yet. 

“Infected or Human?” 

Eddie shrugs as he scans the way the figure carries themselves, the steps and the posture. 

“What’s worse?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at her. 

Nancy lifts one shoulder as she straightens her back, ready to take the shot if needed. 

“You do know that if we shoot, everything that might be around will get drawn in by the noise…”

“I know,” Nancy sighs, cursing inwardly for not looking for silencers before. “It’s not an infected… it’s–”

“Put the gun down, Nance.” 

“Steve!?” Eddie and Nancy gasp in unison. 

He speeds up his movements once Nancy holsters her gun again and Eddie drops the axe. They don’t even manage to take in the sight of him, to take in the state he is in. He brushes past them so quickly, heading into the RV like he can’t waste a single second to get to you. His backpack is clinking loudly. He throws open the door and rushes in. 

Eddie’s confused face meets Nancy’s, they share a look before they follow him inside. 

They both notice how fast and loudly he is breathing as he sets the rifle down, leaning it against the wall. He hurries into the back of the RV, throwing off his backpack carefully as he sets it down on the ground beside the bed you are lying in. 

Steve drops to his knees before you, not even giving that moment to himself to breathe, to calm down. He spent hours feeling on edge, worrying about you, worrying about making it out alive. And he ran, he ran all the way from the city to here, not stopping for a second, not stopping to catch his breath or look back to make sure that nothing was following. He just needed to get to you. That’s all that mattered to him, he didn’t care about anything else. 

He places his hand on your shoulder, shaking you softly. 

“Sunshine?” He whispers as he brings his other hand up to your cheek, tapping it gently. “You with me?” 

A grumble falls from your mouth. You shift on the bed as you wake up slowly. Your eyelashes flutter as you blink, opening your eyes after a few seconds. 

Steve’s shoulders slump in relief, and he breathes out a loud sigh. He closes his eyes for a moment. He takes a deep breath before he opens his eyes again and gets into action. He grabs his backpack and zips it open, taking out the medicine he found inside of a hospital. 

Nancy stares at him, watching as he takes out one bottle after another.

“What–”

“You went out there by yourself?” Eddie snaps at him. 

And if you weren’t so weak and delirious, you would have been surprised at the anger in his tone and in his eyes. 

Steve ignores them both. He ignores everything, even the injuries he came back with. He clenches his jaw. Taking out the antibiotics and the tylenol, he drops them on the bedside table before he gets up and makes his way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and wash his hands before giving you the medicine. 

He doesn’t even spare them a look. 

“Are you crazy, Steve?” Nancy asks, crossing her arms over her chest as she inspects the dirt on his face, the blood dripping from the fresh wound on his cheek and one over his eyebrow. 

“You could have died, man!” Eddie throws his hands up, glaring at his friend who glares back at him. 

“She could have fucking died!” Steve yells, throwing his finger into your direction. He blinks in anger as he makes his way back to you. A huff falls from his lips, angry at his friends still. 

He is tired and exhausted from hiding and running all night, from having to crawl on the ground to stay hidden from monsters and infected. A few infected still managed to creep up on him, and two or three demobats caused the wounds on his face. But he is fine. He is fine now. 

They both fall quiet behind him, watching how he tends to you. 

He places the glass on the table and leans down, scooping his arm under your back, “c’mon, you need to get up for a second.”

You don’t protest, but you are weak, and you would not be able to get back up by yourself. You squint your eyes as you look at him. Your mind is still in a haze and everything is confusing to you at this moment but you see the dirt and the blood on his face. The messy hair and the exhausted look in his features. 

“What happened?” 

“Don’t worry about it now,” he whispers. 

Steve grabs the antibiotics, taking out a pill. He places it into the palm of your hand, “here, take it.” He mumbles and reaches for the glass of water. 

He helps you bring your hand up to your lips, you put the pill in your mouth and take a sip of the water he holds out to you, swallowing it. You repeat the motion when he hands you one of the painkillers. 

He watches you carefully. Wiping away the drop of water that runs down your chin and tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“Thank you,” you whisper softly when you pull away from him, eyes dropping from the tiredness again. 

Steve’s eyes soften when you try to smile at him, even now, even when you feel like absolute shit. 

“Anytime, honey.” He promises. The nickname falling from his lips so naturally. 

He helps you back down and tucks you in again, just like he did before, just like he did all the days leading up to this moment. His eyes fall on the hair tie. He leaves it there. 

Nancy and Eddie look at each other, their anger fleeting away more and more. Relief filling them instead but also still fear… for him now too. 

“There’s… I got a bunch of stuff,” Steve explains as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Nance, can you place an IV for her? I got one of those bags but I don’t know how–”

She nods, “yeah… yeah, of course. But your wounds need–”

“I’m fine. Just a cut…” He murmurs tiredly as he gets up, walking away and towards the couch. 

Eddie huffs at his friend when he brushes past him. He can’t help but slap him over his head. 

Steve flinches, squinting his eyes at him.

“For being a moron,” Eddie glares. “I would have gone with you, man.”

Steve shakes his head, scoffing softly as he plops down on the couch. He grunts in pain when he takes off his jacket, throwing it on the ground. His eyes start dropping suddenly as the tiredness hits fully. 

“I was sneaky… stealthy like a ninja.” 

Eddie raises his eyebrows at the comment that reminds him of who he once used to be. 

“Didn’t even have to kill a thing… and now… I will sit here and I will see if she…” he slurs, eyes falling shut slowly. He mumbles your name before he passes out completely. 

Eddie stares at him for a moment, noticing the cut on his arm and the blood dripping down from the wound. 

“Stealthy like a ninja my ass,” Eddie snorts. He takes his own jacket off and pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows, ready to tend to his wounds. 

-

His muscles are sore, aching in every spot in his body but his arms and legs especially. The cut on his arm strains against his skin, making him wince in pain when he stretches both arms out. A grunt leaves his lips as he peaks his eyes open when the sunlight hits his face. 

He draws back in confusion when he looks down at the sheets covering his body, at the big window next to the bed. There isn’t one behind the couch. This isn’t where he fell asleep last night. 

Steve presses his palms against the sheets beneath him, he pushes himself up and turns his head. His eyes widen in surprise when he finds you next to him, sitting up and looking right at him. A weak smile gracing your lips. 

It takes him a moment to move. The words get caught in his throat when his heart skips a beat. The golden light of the sun kisses your face so softly, bringing out all the specks of colors in your eyes and the undertone in your hair that frames your face so prettily right now. You rarely wear it open, it’s always in one or two braids. He likes it like this. A lot. 

You look so much better than the night before. The circles under your eyes are still there but your face has taken on a little color again and you can sit up straight once more. 

“Hey…” Your whisper pulls him out of his stupor. He blinks a few times before he finally pushes himself up, reaching his arm out to you, he notices the bandage around his bicep and he realizes that Eddie must have taken care of his wounds before he carried him over to the bed to sleep next to you. 

Heat creeps up to his cheeks and he blushes a little. 

“A-Are you okay?” He whispers, placing his hand on your back. “Shit… what time is it?” He looks down at his watch, needing to make sure that you get your dose of medicine every eight hours. 

You take his hand, filling him with even more relief when he feels the warmth in it again. 

“I’m better.” 

Steve looks away from his wrist and back up at you. Hazel eyes shining with hope. 

“Yeah?” He leans closer, keeping his hand on you. 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and nod, blinking as your eyes grow sensitive. 

“Mhmm.”

You woke up confused this morning. Your body felt sore, and your throat still ached but you felt better, so much better. You didn’t understand why at first, not until you noticed him lying next to you, facing you. You remembered then what had happened the night before. How he gave you the medicine, how dirty he was, how wounded he was. 

He went out there for you. He went into the city to get you medicine, to save you. 

Steve risked his life for you. 

Steve who seemed so cold at first. Steve who didn’t want you around at first. Steve who you thought didn’t care about you. 

No one ever did that for you. No one ever cared enough to even do the littlest thing for you. 

But he went out there, knowing that he could have died trying to save you. 

It tugs at your heartstrings to know that he cares about you enough to do this. It warms your chest. It makes you feel safe. He makes you feel safe. 

Steve creeps into your heart more and more every day and you can no longer lie to yourself or deny the feelings that grow for him. 

You eye the mess on his head, the wild hair. The tiredness in his eyes. The wound he caught for you. You lift your hand up to his cheek, tracing his skin with your finger. 

His lips curl upwards, his eyes flicker with something you can’t read. 

You lean closer to him and close your eyes. You press your lips against his shoulder, giving it a soft peck. 

“Thank you,” you whisper and look up at him. 

Steve can see what flashes in your eyes. He knows what you are thinking, what you are feeling and it makes his heart ache. 

He would do it again. Again and again. 

No words leave his mouth but his actions speak louder. He wraps his arms around you and he pulls you into his embrace, hugging you softly. 

You accept the hug instantly, grabbing his shirt, you press your cheek against his chest and let yourself fall into him and it doesn’t take you a minute, not even a second to understand why it feels so warm, why it feels so right. 

This is more than just attraction. 

This is more than what you thought it was. 

And it scares you. 

But you are not the only one scared, he is too. When he wraps his arms around you tighter and he presses his lips to the top of your head, he feels his heart warming in his chest when you curl into him. 

Steve feels the urge to not let go, to keep you in his embrace, to keep you safe, to protect you. 

But not like his other friends, no, he wants to protect you in a different way. 

And that scares him too. Especially because he had never felt anything like this before. Never. 

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx

[eden031]

Sweet boy

Pairing: Jack Abbot x single mom! resident!reader

Warnings: Age gap (unspecified), reader‘s son plays soccer, reader feels like a bad mom, fluff mostly, implied that the kid is a matchmaker

Summary: When her son is having a rough patch, she asks her attending to come to his games, just as a temporary arrangement, of course. Though sometimes something temporary becomes normal.

Words: 4.5 k

A/N: Hey there, so this is what was voted for and I really like the way it turned out! It it rather light hearted and I really like the way it turned out. Though a quick disclaimer at this point, I have no idea what it is really like to be a single mom or a mom in genreal so please be kind in that regard. Also I might write a second part for this where reader finds out she is pregnant with Jack‘s baby and the ‚aftermath‘ of that, not sure about that though :) I still hope you enjoy this little story :D

Leaning against the nurses’ station she closed her eyes, the worry in her gut not getting better as the night wore on. It was his first sleepover and she was not happy about it, she had been reluctant about it anyways, but she knew the mother well, knew the father well and knew that there would only be three kids in total. It was safe and she knew that nothing bad could happen to him, she had slept over a ton as a kid and nothing ever happened. Still, since she had dropped him off at his best friend‘s house before she had gone to her shift the bad feeling her stomach didn‘t go away.

“You doing okay?” The voice of her attending pulled her out of her musings, he was standing closer than she had expected as she opened her eyes, feeling a slight heat rush to her face. His expression mildly worried, his salt and pepper curls slightly mussed. His stethoscope was wrapped around his neck and underneath it she could see the chain around it as well.

“Not really…” she sighed, rubbing her head, lying to him would get her nowhere, he was able to read her like an open book. “You know when you have a gut feeling that you really can’t shake?” she glanced at him with a small smile. He snorted slightly, nodding as he looked at her again. Not moving he still continued to stare at her, it was that kind of expectant stare he sometimes gave patients when they left out parts of the story they were telling.

“Yeah, definitely,” he crossed his arms across his chest, the thick forearms resting across each other. Sometimes she felt like a teenager when he was close to her, like she would start swooning after him like a lost puppy. Shaking her head slightly she tried to get that out of her head, hell he was her attending and in her eyes way out of her league.

“My son is sleeping over at a friend’s place tonight for the first time, can’t seem to shake the feeling that something terrible might happen,” she shuddered slightly as she shook her head. She knew that Abbot would probably have some wise words for her, he always did. „I sound like some kind of helicopter mom, don‘t I?“ she asked, laughing slightly as she looked at him.

„Nah,“ he shook his head, „We see shit in here people can‘t even dream of in their worst nightmares,“ he shrugged, „I think it‘s normal to be worried. And he is your first after all,“ A small smile was on his lips as he leaned against the counter.

„How did his match go, anyway?“ Abbot asked. She was slightly startled at the question, she had mentioned that her son had insisted on playing soccer this season and he had had his first match in the afternoon.

„It went well,“ she smiled, she had luckily been able to be there and cheer for him. „His team won and he put in the last goal, getting them out of the draw,“ a proud smile on her lips as she told that to Abbot. It had felt like she was watching her son in slow motion, running on his little legs with the ball in front of him, then one strong kick and he had scored the goal.

„Looks like you got a future star on your hands,“ Abbot smiled slightly as she laughed at that.

„If the love for it lasts longer than one season I actually might,“ she smiled at Abbot, trying to hide the sadness in her smile. Even if her son had played incredibly well he had still cried after the game, right after the kids had been allowed to go see their parents. All the dads had been so supportive the entire time, the mums as well, but that had not triggered her son‘s crying. It had been a conversation that they had been having for what felt like ages, on and off, even if her son was only seven, he understood the concept of not having a father or even father figure rather well. Especially since all his friends had really great and involved fathers. She knew that he was happy and that he loved her, it had alway only been them together, but apparently he was currently in a stage in life where he just wanted someone else besides her.

A sniffle left her as she realised the thought had made her cry again. Sometimes, well a lot of times, she felt like a bad mom. Due to the fact that most of her friends were either from work or her son‘s friends‘ mothers she did not know that many other single mothers. She had no advice on how to deal with these emotions and it made her feel so horrible.

„Hey, hey,“ he gently touched her shoulder, the concern in his features evident as he gently touched her shoulder.

„Gosh, sorry,“ she wiped away the tears, trying to stop the tears from falling again. A groan escaped her as she sniffled again. Suddenly her phone started buzzing in her pocket, fear shot through her as she grabbed it, holding up her hand to Abbot, her tears going dry right away as she saw the name of Josh‘s best friend‘s mother on the screen.

„Hey, is everything alright?“ she asked with panic in her voice. She knew she needed to calm down, panic wouldn‘t get her anywhere.

„Hey, yes, sorry if I am calling at a bad time.“ the voice sounded exhausted as she heard shuffling in the background.

“No! It‘s okay, I have some time on my hands right now,“ she shot Abbot an apologetic glance, though he still looked concerned at her, his hand still on her shoulder.

„Okay, I just wanted to tell you that the three of them devoured four pizzas and were knocked out afterwards, they are all sleeping right now and it looks like they are not going to get up until like at least ten tomorrow,“ Lara sounded exhausted, but she let out a sigh of relief.

„Thanks for letting me know.“ she paused. There was another pause on the other side of the line.

„Sorry, I didn‘t mean to keep you from work, have a good shift.“ Lara sounded exhausted, they quickly said their goodbyes and she hung up, letting her head fall backwards.

„Everything alright?“ he looked so concerned as he looked at her while she shoved her phone back into her pocket.

„Yeah,“ she let out a relieved laugh as she shook her head. „She just called to let me know that they are sleeping like stones and everything is alright.“

He let out a relieved sigh as well, like he had been just as worried as the phone had gone off. It made her smile slightly, Abbot had met her son a few times already, it had always been during cookouts organized by someone, mostly by either Dana or Langdon. Her son had loved Abbot from the moment her attending had introduced himself to her son. Josh became attached to Abbot like a tick the moment he spotted him in a crowd of one of the cookouts. Always dragging her mentor along to everything he wanted to do and for some reason unbeknownst to her, Abbot just let him and did his best to satisfy the whims of her son.

The thing was, that had made her crush on her attending even worse, seeing the way he treated her son made her heart swell every single time she saw them interact. Probably the worst part of it all was that she knew that this was no silly little crush anymore.

„Thank god,“ he breathed out, his head falling backwards as well. Suddenly something came to her mind, but before she could even propose the idea to Abbot Bridgit called out that a trauma was incoming.

——————

Shift change had gone smoother than usual and she was finally on her way out of the building, hoping to be able to shower before she had to pick up Josh. As she stood by the lockers she thought about the idea she had had again. Maybe it was stupid, and maybe she would overstep if she did really ask that of Abbot, but she just wanted to know if maybe there was a chance for it.

Seeing Abbot also coming her way she fished everything out of the locker, stepped back and waited for him to approach her. Usually he never used the lockers, his backpack already slung over his shoulder.

„Mind if we have a little chat before you leave?“ he asked, his brow raised in her direction.

„Not at all, I actually wanted to talk to you about something as well.“ she gave him a small smile as they began making their way towards the exit. She knew that Jack always walked, he said that it cleared his head, though she knew that he theoretically could drive.

„Are you sure you are doing okay? You know that you can talk to me if something is bothering you,“ his voice was so gentle as they stepped out of the hospital. She sighed, the crying had definitely prompted that conversation.

“Yeah, no, I know I am not doing the best,“ she answered honestly, „It‘s about Josh,“ another sigh and as she glanced to the side she could see the concerned expression of her attending.

„Is he sick?“ he asked, of course that was the first thing that came to mind, not the quick kind of sick, the occasional flu, but she knew that he meant sick. The kind of sick that could tear people apart.

„No!“ she shook her head, „He is just having a bit of a rough patch,“ she paused, cringing internally as they continued to walk towards employee parking, „He has been asking more and more about why his dad isn‘t there and why he can‘t have an awesome dad like his other friends,“ she paused, „Makes me feel like a terrible parent,“ she shuddered.

Abbot stopped walking, she also did, following his him to the side of the sidewalk. His expression was stern, but still friendly.

„You know you are not a bad mom, right?“ he paused, „That kid loves you more than anything in the world.“ Carefully he put his hands on her shoulders, gently squeezing them.

„I know,“ she tried to look away, but it felt impossible to draw away from these intense eyes. „I just…sometimes I wish I could give him that role model he so desperately wants…“ she sighed, rubbing her face. This was the point where she decided to just go with it and ask, „That was actually why I wanted to talk to you,“ she sighed again, Abbot looked surprised as she said that.

„I know that this is probably very unprofessional and also overstepping boundaries, but god, Josh loves you, always talks about you and every time there is a cookout he gets so excited.“ she paused gauging the expression on Abbot‘s face, it startled her when he looked slightly flustered, „But would you mind coming to the games with me? I know that you probably have a lot of stuff to do and more things to worry about, but-„

„I would love to,“ he paused, a small smile on his lips as he gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. It felt like the breath was knocked out of her lungs as she saw that sparkle in his eyes, for a moment she wasn‘t sure if it was just the light or if she could actually see tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

„I would love to come,“ he repeated, again giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze, again „Just tell me when and where I have to be and I will be there,“ his voice was soft as he spoke. It made her want to cry, the way he smiled at her like she had just given him the best news of his life.

„Will do,“ she smiled at him, tears beginning to gather in her eyes as well, she hated it, knowing that loving this man was probably never going to get her anywhere.

———————

Sitting in the bleachers of the small school soccer field she sighed, glancing at her phone she checked to see if Abbot had texted her that he was running late. The kids were still doing warm ups and she had hoped that he would be there before the game would start. Glancing to the side she heard soft murmurs from some of the moms from the boys on her son‘s team, they were the kind of soccer mom‘s she really did not like. The ones that looked down on her for being a single mom, like it made her a bad person. Following their eyeline she grinned, Abbot was walking towards where she was sitting, in the lower ranks so that she could keep a close eye on the game the entire time. The sight in front of her made her a little light headed, Jack Abbot in casual clothes was something she had never hoped to see and here he was. A pair of loose fitted dark blue jeans, a tight fitted t-shirt paired with a fleece jacket without a hoodie. His backpack slung over his shoulder, as he walked over to her.

„Hey!“ she grinned at him, not sure how to greet him, though that question was answered when he gave her a quick hug.

„Hey,“ he said as well, taking a seat beside her, his legs spread slightly. Before she was able to say anything she heard one of the other mom‘s say something that made her a bit prickly.

„God, what a waste,“ Karen, the epitome of said name, half shouted while glaring in her direction.

„Thanks again for coming, Abbot,“ she gave him a small smile, he just nodded, a small smile also on his lips.

„Of course, and Jack will do for now,“ he smirked slightly as she felt her face heat up at the idea of calling him by his first name.

„Alright, no last names,“ she gave him a cheeky grin, then looked at the backpack, which had been safely deposited between his legs. Suppressing her laugh she glanced at him.

„What have you got in the bag?“ she asked, nodding at the backpack, Jack hummed softly, a huff escaping him.

„Wanna have a look?“ he asked, while his eyes found her backpack as well, „Mind if I get a peek at what you got?“ a small grin on her face they exchanged backpacks.

Looking into his backpack she found an array of medical supplies, Butterfly ultrasound, neckbrace, field trach kit, tourniquet, a stethoscope, a catheter for a chest tube, syringe and a lot more.

„Came prepared, let's just hope we don‘t need any of these,“ she laughed as she placed the backpack on the ground again.

„You too,“ he nodded with a small smile on his lips.

„Looks like we came with a whole ED on our back,“ she laughed, „Still just so you know there are medics here as well,“ she paused, glancing over at the two teenagers who were the medics for the teams, „I just don‘t trust them,“ she muttered under her breath.

Jack followed her line of sight and nodded slowly as he also saw the two teenagers sitting there, glued to their phones.

„I get that,“ he hummed softly, looking over his shoulder now, she followed his gaze this time she saw Karen staring at him, her husband, Larry, sitting cluelessly beside her. „What is her deal?“ he muttered as he leaned in closer to her, his breath fanning over the side of her face.

„Just getting the newest gossip ready,“ she sighed, a small smirk on her face as she watched Josh helping one of his teammates up from the ground after the kid had tripped.

„For the Soccer moms‘ whatsapp group?“ he asked, his voice laced with amusement. A snort left her lips as she shook her head.

„Worse, the soccer moms‘ facebook group,“ at that comment Jack let out a laugh, gently nudging her with his elbow. She grinned at him, shaking her head slightly. She thought that she could get used to this, to him being around more. It was nice, having someone around that she could talk with, someone that cared for Josh.

„JACK!“ Josh‘s tiny voice pulled her out of her thoughts as she saw him barreling towards her, though he did not launch himself at her, but rather at Jack, jumping into his arms. Jack easily caught Josh, holding him close for a moment, laughing softly as her son‘s tiny hands grabbed his jacket.

„Are you here for my game?“ Josh asked, his eyes big. She felt her heart lurch slightly at the sight. Jack holding Josh, who was now half sitting on his lap, a big grin on his tiny face.

„Yeah, little champ,“ he nodded. The coach called Josh‘s name and he let go of Jack again, not saying anything he bolted back to the team. A small smile grew on her lips as she watched the new spring in Josh‘s step. For a moment there was comfortable silence between them, their shoulders and legs brushing slightly as they watched the team huddled together. Lara and her husband weren‘t there, Tom, their son had caught the flu and was now sick, she was kind of the only mother she actually knew and liked from the team.

„So, any post game traditions?“ Jack asked while they watched the kids scattering over the field, taking their positions to start the game. A snort left her lips as she glanced over at him.

„It‘s only his second game, so no,“ she gave him a small grin as they leaned back slightly.

„What about I take you guys out for some pizza?“ he asked, the tone of his voice was different, it was like there was a subtle question behind it, like he was trying to figure out how far she would let him in.

„Pizza sounds great!“ she smiled at him, feeling her face heat up again as he gave her a quick smile. „But I am paying!“ she grinned at him.

„Let's argue about that when the time comes,“ he shook his head as the whistle for the start of the game blew.

The game was good, Josh‘s team getting another win, this time her little champ had scored the first goal of the match. She and Jack had cheered loudly and for the first time it felt like she could also cheer unapologetically. The look on Josh‘s face during half time had been unforgettable and would probably be burned in her mind forever, the pure joy of seeing her and Jack and how excitedly he had told them about his thoughts during the first goal.

Now the game was over and she and Josh were packing up his things, changing from his soccer shoes to his regular trainers. Josh was babbling about how cool the move of his teammate had been when he had avoided one of the opponents. Jack was standing beside her, a proud smile on his lips. Josh looked as his hands as she was beginning to collect all their stuff.

„Mommy,“ his voice was so soft that she was barely able to even hear him as she looked up, a smile on her face.

„Yeah sweetheart?“ she smiled at him, he looked nervous, glanced at Jack then back at her.

„Can we take a picture?“ he asked softly, looking at his hands like he was asking for some kind of dangerous thing.

“Of course, sweety,“ she smiled at him, gently ruffling his hair, „Do you want a picture with all of us or just you and Jack?“ she knew that they already had a picture of just him and her, so she just assumed that he wanted a picture with Jack.

„Can we do both?“ he asked, his eyes big as he looked at her with hopeful eyes.

„Of course, darling,“ she looked at Jack who looked like he was preening at the question, a small smile on her lips she ushered Josh towards Jack, who exchanged a few hushed whispers with each other. They posed together, Jack placing his hands on Josh‘s shoulders, a proud smile on his lips, an elated expression on Josh‘s. She smiled as she took the pictures.

“Do you want me to take the other one?“ the voice of the coach came from beside her as he gave her a small smile. He was already in his sixties and such a sweetheart.

„Please!“ she handed him her phone, giving him a thankful smile, quickly she moved up to Jack and Josh who both gave her a smile. Stepping behind Josh she also placed one hand on his shoulder, suddenly she felt an arm wrap itself around her waist, a surprised expression graced her face before she also wrapped her arm around his waist as well, both of them a hand on Josh‘s shoulder. The coach grinned slightly as he took a picture.

„You want your mom and I to pick you up?“ Jack asked Josh, who grinned excitedly and nodded quickly. Together they picked up her son, squeezing him between them, all of them laughing, another picture was taken.

That evening she had sent all of the pictures to Jack. Sitting on the sofa while Josh already slept she stared at the screen, the picture of Jack and her holding Josh stared back at her, that night she decided to change the picture of herself and Josh in her background to this one.

—————-

Sitting on her sofa she glanced over at Josh who was snoring softly between her and Jack, his little body snuggled between them. It was so domestic, so normal at this point that it made her want to cry.

Jack always came for the games, always cheered Josh on, always made sure that their little champion knew how well he was doing. Meanwhile he checked in on her, made sure she was also doing alright, offered her to take a few more days off during the months so that she could relax a little. At some point it became a tradition for Jack to come back to her place after a game and pizzas, they would often watch a movie, Josh usually falling asleep within the first half hour of the movie, though they still finished watching the movie, one of them would put him to bed. It was almost like they really were a family, except that they weren‘t, not like that at least.

The tension between them had heightened. At work sometimes it felt like they were really a couple, Jack bringing her coffee, her always making sure to bring an extra bag of food, knowing that Jack often forgot. During breaks she would ask if he needed anything from the grocery store while Jack offered to watch Josh when he had a night off when she didn‘t.

The end credits played as they continued to stare at the screen, she paused the movie, then turned off the TV.

„Do you wanna put him down?“ she asked, feeling how her arm had fallen asleep from Josh sleeping on it, hit head leaning against her upper arm.

„Yeah,“ Jack‘s voice was hoarse, glancing over at him she felt a pang in her heart, realising that he was crying. She had never really seen him cry before, never seen him that emotional. She didn‘t comment on it though, just gave him time to pick up Josh and carry him towards his bedroom. Quietly she followed him, making sure that Jack didn‘t realise. Stopping in the doorway she saw how Jack tucked in Josh, gently brushing some strands of hair out of his face.

„Huh,“ a shaky sigh escaped his lips, she wanted to say something, but she simply stood there and watched, „Sweet boy,“ his voice was so gentle, as he kneeled beside Josh‘s bed. „You know, I really should have believed you when you first told me I loved your mom,“ a soft laugh came from him. He rested his arm on the mattress of her son‘s bed. „Sleep well,“

She felt her heart hammering in her chest. Her chest tightened as she watched the moment between Jack and her sleeping son. Another sigh came from Jack, she took a small step back as he got up from where he had been kneeling, gently pressing a kiss to her son‘s forehead before he turned around. His eyes went wide as he saw her standing there, carefully she made room for him to walk out the room, closing the door behind him.

„I think I should be going, it‘s later than usual,“ he spoke softly as they faced each other in the hallway. The space felt crammed, with all the unsaid things between them. They surrounded them in this moment more than ever before, weighing them down, in a way pulling them together.

„Don‘t,“ she shook her head, feeling the weight that had been living in her chest since Jack had essentially become Josh‘s father figure. The weight of an unspoken truth neither of them really wanted to face, neither of them really wanted to acknowledge.

The air around them was charged, she reached out, trying to keep her hands from shaking, gently she took his. He intertwined their fingers, carefully pulling her closer to him. His free hand wrapped around her cheek, his thumb caressing her it. Moving closer he pressed his lips to hers, it felt like a current went through her body. Their lips moved against each other, wrapping her free arm around his neck she tried to pull him in even closer, to close the distance between them completely. There was a certain urgency in the kiss, they let go of each other‘s hands, his other hand went towards her waist, she wrapped her other arm around his neck as well. As they pulled away he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths intermingling.

His other hand had found her waist now, holding her close to him, the heat radiating off of him now even more comforting than when he looked over her shoulder in a trauma bay. She brushed her nose against his, pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

„Are you going to tell me why you cried?“ she asked, her voice a bit lighter as she spoke, her arms slowly encircling his waist now. A low groan came from him, then a soft huff.

„I always cry at the end of The Lion King,“ he said, his voice cracking slightly, his hold on her not relenting.

„You gotta be kidding me,“ she laughed as she tilted her head back slightly.

„I‘m not,“ he looked deadly serious, though a small smile was now visible on his features.

„I am definitely going to tell Ellis about that,“ she giggled slightly as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, placing soft kisses there.

„You are definitely not going to do that,“ he leaned his head back, letting out a small hum.

“Maybe, maybe not,“ she giggled softly as she leaned her head against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of finally being in his arms.

[aneertawrites]

LADS Guys and Their Love Languages ˎˊ˗

spicy!

fluff ver

a/n : this is a quick one to keep u guys fed while i write up some drafts on prideandprejudice!Xavier 😝 pls feel free to request some ideas you’d like me to do while i work on creating a master list 😭

Xavier - Quality Time

You’re lying in bed, barely under the sheets, wearing one of his shirts—oversized, half-off your shoulder. You didn’t even hear him come in, but you felt him the second he stepped into the room. That low, steady presence that always made the air tighten.

Xavier doesn’t say anything. He just comes over, slips in beside you, and pulls you into his chest—fully clothed, boots off, tension still in his shoulders.

But then… his hand slides under the hem of your shirt. Cold fingers. Warm skin.

“You wore this on purpose,” he mutters against your neck. “Didn’t you?”

You don’t answer.

So he answers for you—with teeth. His mouth latches onto your throat, his hand curling around your thigh, dragging it over his hip. And when you press into him, you feel how hard he is.

“You always make me wait,” he growls, voice deeper now. “But when I get you like this—quiet, soft, in my arms—you’re already mine.” He groans, fingers latching onto your breast and kneading it with a slow, steady and firm grasp.

He doesn’t rush. He takes his time dragging your panties down, spreading your legs with the same calm he uses when dismantling a threat. His fingers stroke you slow, lazy. His lips don’t leave your skin.

And when he finally pushes in—deep, with one hard roll of his hips—he doesn’t let you move.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

Zayne - Acts of Service

Zayne’s got you in the bath first. You were exhausted, overworked, and didn’t even ask—but he was already there. Stripping you, holding you under warm water, washing every part of you with his gentle, caring hands.

And then he carries you to bed, like he needs to. As if he couldn’t resist. He wrapped you in a blanket. Massaged your legs. Rubbed lotion into your thighs like he’s memorizing every inch.

“You don’t let yourself rest,” he says, voice rough. “But I know how to shut that mind off.”

He kisses you slow. And when he spreads your legs, he stays there—tongue, lips, fingers, worshipping you like the answer to every question he’s ever had.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispers into your skin. “Let me be good to you.” And he delves in, but not rough, animalistic—no. He’s gentle with it, kissing your cunt softly, whispering soft praises against it, giving your lips small licks and alternating between suckling and kissing, bringing you a slow, steady stream of pleasure.

And when he finally takes you, it’s with the kind of controlled hunger that has his arms shaking from holding back. He holds your face the entire time. Kisses your nose when you whimper. Calls you beautiful with every thrust.

And afterward, he holds you like porcelain, wipes you down with a warm cloth, and whispers, “You never have to take care of yourself alone again. I’ve got you. Always.”

Rafayel - Physical Touch

He doesn’t wait.

The second you’re alone, Rafayel pushes you against the kitchen counter, both hands on your hips, his mouth already on your neck.

“You tease me all day and expect me to behave?” he whispers. “That’s cruel, baby.”

His hands are everywhere—under your shirt, up your thighs, tugging at your underwear like it personally offended him. His teeth graze your collarbone. And his fingers? Already deep inside you before you can blink.

“You’re so wet,” he groans. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

He turns you around, bends you over the counter, and enters you with a single, devastating thrust. One hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist like he’s anchoring himself to reality.

He talks the whole time.

Filthy, filthy things in that silk voice. Praise, filth, love—blended into every breath.

“Look at you—so full of me, moaning like you need me to ruin you.”

He finishes with a growl in your ear and doesn’t pull out—just kisses the back of your neck and whispers, “I’ll clean up, dove. You just stay bent over like that for a minute. I like the view.” And finishes it off with a kiss to your shoulder.

Sylus - Words of Affirmation

He’s on top of you. Not rushed. Not rough. Just intent. One hand behind your head, the other gripping your thigh. His eyes locked on yours like he can’t look away.

“I think about you,” he says, voice dark with need, “way more than I should.”

His hips start slow, deep. He grinds against you like he’s sculpting his name into your bones.

And the whole time, he’s talking.

“You make me crazy.”

“You don’t even know how perfect you are.”

“No one’s ever touched me like this. No one’s been this to me.”

“You’re the only thing that calms me down.”

He watches your every reaction—every moan, twitch, gasp—and drinks it in like oxygen.

When you start to fall apart, he grabs your face, kisses you hard, and murmurs against your lips, “Give it to me, sweetie. All of it. I’ll take every piece.”

He finishes by burying his face in your neck, breathing you in like it’s the last time. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

And afterward, he doesn’t move. Just whispers your name over and over, stroking your hair gently as if he was holding glass.

Caleb - Gift Giving

Caleb burst through the apartment door with a grin and tossed his gym bag down. “Baby, I swear, one more push-up and my arms were gonna fall off.”

You smirked from the couch, and his eyes locked on you instantly. You were wearing his hoodie—and nothing else.

“Oh, nope.” He crossed the room in seconds, tossing you backward into the cushions and climbing over you like a man starved.

“You think I wouldn’t notice what you’re doing?”

You laughed, but it caught in your throat when his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you just enough.“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he said, voice gone low, reverent. “That was such a nice gift to come home to, pipsqueak.”

Caleb buried his nose in your neck, humming with contentment as he ground himself against you slightly. “Want me to give you a better one?”

Then he lifts your hips and guides you down onto him—one hand on your ass, the other behind your back. “That’s right. Take it. You can handle it, pretty thing.”

He’s rough, absolutely, but he’s so careful underneath it—checking in with every movement, holding your hand while he thrusts up into you, groaning against your shoulder. “You’re so good to me, baby. Tell me you like this, too.”

masterlist

Taglist : @etsuniiru @kyokoyya @i-messed-up-big-time @firefly1103 @gracekerzzz @mcdepressed290 @sylusgirlie7 @plzdonutpercieveme

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Hi! I loved the "through their eyes" fanfic with lando, and i was wondering if youd do it with literally any other driver? Maybe oscar, max or charles? If not thats fine x

through their eyes .ೃ࿐ 

Summary: charles and y/n's relationship through other people's eyes.

lando's version

༉‧₊˚. cl x reader ‗ ❍

༉‧₊˚. fluff ‗ ❍

masterlist ☾☼

arthur

arthur loved his brother. he really did. his elder brother was his favourite person in the world sometimes.

key word: sometimes.

he hated his brother when he called in the middle of the night. he hated his brother a little more when his reason for calling was because he was afraid his new little puppy had accidentally eaten chocolates.

charles himself never ate chocolates. arthur knew that. so, he couldn’t understand where charles had the idea that leo ate chocolates.

nevertheless, he let his brother drag him to an emergency vet at 4 am. charles was craddling leo, talking to him in a baby voice. arthur tried to take the whole thing seriously, he really did, but sometimes his brother forgot that other people needed sleep.

"they're taking so long. what if something happens to leo in that time? this is an emergency." charles mumbled.

arthur sighed and said, "you're next in line. just be patient."

charles nodded and went back to running his fingers through leo's fur.

when they finally called charles' name, he immediately stood up and speed walked towards the door. arthur sighed, and followed behind, dragging his feet because he really just wanted to be in his bed right now.

"hi, i'm doctor y/l/n. what brings you here?" the doctor was pretty, arthur had to admit.

though, the funny part was the way his brother had lost the part of his brain that made sentences as he stared at the doctor with wide eyes.

as much as arthur loved to see his brother like this, he refused to let him make a fool of himself, or of arthur.

"his dog apparently ate chocolates?" arthur said.

the vet let out a small chuckle, "you say that as if you're not sure,"

"well, i just came home and saw chocolate wrappers around him, which was weird, and immediately rushed him here." charles finally said, finding the part of his brain that made words.

"that is weird. do you have a lot of chocolate at home?" she asked as she began to check for any signs on leo.

"not really. i don't eat a lot of chocolate," charles said, alternating between the doctor and leo.

"any idea where the chocolate was since it was accessible to such a small dog?"

both leclercs stopped for a second and thought. charles was usually careful about not leaving things like that near leo's reach, well aware that leo was a hyperactive dog. and for the days that charles was away, arthur babysat leo. just like he had done that day.

oh.

arthur's brain finally began working, and he hit his brother's back.

"i had the chocolates!" arthur exclaimed.

charles turned to him, confused, "what?"

"i was babysitting leo today and i got some chocolates with me!"

"so you ate them in my living room and left the wrappers?" charles asked, a little bit of anger seeping through his voice.

oh.

this was what arthur had told himself today to not repeat to his brother. that he had been lazy and decided not to clean up like he knew he should've.

arthur opened his mouth to defend himself, to say anything that could pass off and not have his brother lecture him in the middle of the night. but, the doctor saved him. thank fuck.

"oh, i know what you mean. sometimes, i have too many chocolates, and then i fall asleep from a sugar crash and forget to pick up the wrappers or clean up," she said casually, as she continued checking leo.

charles turned back to her, and arthur watched as he slowly nodded and accepted the answer. arthur wasn't sure whether he wanted to be pissed at that or amazed at the power this woman already held.

she subtly winked at arthur, and he decided that he liked this woman.

she turned to charles and said, "alright, he's not vomitting, so that's a good sign. i'm gonna write my personal number for you just in case there's an emergency."

arthur smiled, though he tried to hide it. he knew what she was doing. he just hoped his brother caught on too.

charles took the piece of paper from her, and thanked her. she waved at the two brothers, as they turned to leave.

just as they settled in charles' car, he asked, "why did she give me her personal number?"

arthur facepalmed.

carlos

carlos had been seeing charles' new "friend" quite often in the paddock. charles hadn't introduced them yet, and carlos didn't know why. he still respected his teammate's wishes.

carlos liked to think that he was an observant man. he liked to think that he knew charles well enough to read his body language and know or at least, understand some part of what his teammate was feeling.

he had been observing charles every time y/n was close by. had been watching the way charles stood a little taller, spoke a little softer, laughed a little harder. watched the way charles almost touched her back while showing her around, and insisted on putting the headphones on her head himself, and the way charles waited and waited for her to do anything and everything.

it reminded him of lando and his girlfriend. though, those two were much more touchy than whatever this was. in comparison, charles seemed hesitant, yet eager.

it was during the fourth or fifth grand prix that carlos noticed that charles was properly touching her. not just a hand on her back to guide her way, but a hand on the waist, and her arm, and sometimes her fingers. not only that, she was touching him just as much. she played with his rings and his hair, and she stood just a tad closer than friends would.

carlos knew then that something had changed. something had definitely changed, and he knew it was for the better. he did not say anything, though. it wasn't his place.

towards the end of the season, charles finally introduced the woman to carlos.

"carlos, this is dr. y/n y/l/n. she's a vet," he paused, "and my girlfriend,"

carlos smiled instantly. shaking y/n's hand, he said, "hello, dr. y/n. i am carlos sainz jr, though i'm sure you're already aware of that."

she laughed, and carlos watched the way charles lit up, "yes, i do know who you are! i'm so glad to finally meet you!"

"me too! i was expecting charles to hide you from the world, especially me," carlos laughed.

"i apologise, that was based on my request," y/n looked slightly apologetic, but she also seemed sure in her response. it was her request to not be known, and she had the vibe that she would fight anyone who questioned it.

"well, then i'm glad to see charles is capable to following requests. my request for feeding him pancakes have always been ignored. hopefully, you can convince him,"

charles groaned, while y/n laughed, leaning into him slightly.

"i'll convince him, for sure. don't worry,"

the three of them chatted for a little while longer, giggling and making fun of charles. when she started yawning, and leaning into charles more, carlos bid his goodbyes to the couple.

he watched as charles tucked her into him, and watched they shared a soft kiss as they walked towards the exit. he watched as charles smiled radiantly, and he smiled as well.

what was it with carlos and watching his teammates finding their forever loves in front of him?

lewis

being a part of ferrari had been a dream. it was everyone's dream. but, lewis had some doubts. it had been a tough decision, definitely. now, though, with almost half of the season over, lewis felt more comfortable.

he had been waiting for charles to finish talking to the fia president to go over some strategy changes for the next few races. he wasn't eavesdropping, he was just listening attentively for any signs of their conversation being over. lewis desperately wanted to go home, but he wanted to finish this and then go home.

as soon as the conversation ended, lewis watched as charles and his girlfriend bid their goodbyes and walked to charles' driver room. lewis jogged to keep up. he was 40. he shouldn't have to jog to keep up now.

just as lewis reached the door, the two had already locked themselves in the room. in hindsight, lewis could have just yelled at them to wait up like a normal person would, but well, maybe he doesn't care about the strategies enough to do it.

he raised his hand to knock when the words from inside the room registered in his brain.

"-such a dick." y/n was saying. who was a dick? a lot of people were dicks, so it didn't exactly narrow down the list for lewis.

charles laughed. his voice was louder. maybe he was standing closer to the door.

"don't laugh! it was so annoying standing there. three different people, including me, mentioned to that fuckass president of yours that i'm a vet and i have a medical degree, and i've made a name for myself! but, no! he kept referring to me as your girlfriend!"

if lewis leaned against the wall to get slightly more comfortable, he definitely didn't. definitely.

"you say as if it's a bad thing he referred to you as my girlfriend! you are my girlfriend, after all." charles said.

"that's not the point, charles. the point is that i'm accomplished in my own ways. i'm y/n y/l/n first, and somebody's something second. him refusing to acknowledge that i'm a doctor, even if it was for animals, was disrespectful."

lewis hoped that charles got his shit together in this conversation.

"i understand that. but, you know that's how he is. we've all told you stories of how he is. he's not going to change." well, lewis agreed that he wasn't going to change, but it still wasn't the argument that charles thought it was.

"that's bullshit, no? he's the president of the fia, and he refuses to acknowledge women as someone other than a secondary person. i mean, how many others has he done this with? we've got professional golfer lily, and a super smart degree in engineering, and we've got kika as a model and studying in fashion design. they're all highly accomplished women."

"mon cheri, i agree with you. i promise i do. but, the president barely treats us drivers as humans. his viewership and his money literally depends on us, and he doesn't have the decency to treat us nicely,"

that was true, lewis had to agree.

it was quiet for a few moments, and then hushed whispers. lewis leaned in closer to the door as he tried to make out the words, but he just couldn't.

"oh, hey lewis!" one of the mechanics said, clapping a hand on his back.

lewis immediately straightened, and made polite conversations. he really wanted to get back to listening to the conversation happening inside.

just as he was done with the conversation, the door opened, and charles greeted them, and the conversation began again.

for fucks sake.

jules

jules was always watching from the sky. he was always watching over his godson. after all, that was the duty of a godfather, wasn't it? to protect the godson when no one else could. to be there for the godson when no one else could. jules had promised charles' father that he would always look after his son, and not even death can stop jules.

he'd watched charles find y/n. he'd watched the way she supported him and helped him grow as a person. he's watched as she made him the happiest man on earth. he'd watched her celebrate every win with him, and comforted him through every loss.

it was safe to say that jules felt the proudest of his godson the day he proposed to y/n. charles was smart to never let her go. charles was smart to make sure that she stayed with him and loved him just like he loved her and wanted to stay with her.

it was the day of charles and y/n's wedding.

jules was there in spirit. he always was.

y/n was a sweetheart. she had saved him a seat, along with charles' father in the front row for charles. jules wasn't sure if she had told charles, but he knew his godson would be so thankful for it.

jules was there in his suit and tie, looking crisp, even if no one could see him. he sat on the seat reserved for him as he waited for the groom to walk down the aisle first.

he saw every person who ever cared about charles sitting there. family, friends, team, ex drivers, current drivers. it made jules smile. so many people loved charles. so many loved y/n as well. to see them all together in one place to celebrate their love was heartwarming.

the music began, and charles walked down the aisle with his groomsmen: pierre, carlos, and bryan. they smile and laugh with him, shaking his shoulders as tear gather in charles' eyes.

jules watched as charles' gaze roam across the mass of people sitting there. he waves slightly at a few. jules watched as charles' gaze finally settled on him. he watched as charles' tears fell at the realisation of what his fiance had done for him.

he watched as charles covered his face, silent sobs escaping him. and then, the music began, and the bride walked down the aisle. everyone stood, including jules.

the bride was smiling wide, a little bounce in her steps as if she couldn't wait to marry his godson. her hand was tucked in her father's elbow, and the other hand held a bouquet of lilies.

jules watched as she stood on the little podium in front of charles, smiling brightly while his tears mixed with his grin. the love in charles' eyes was as beautiful as the aurora borealis in the night sky.

the ceremony began, and they went through the usual process. jules had been to few weddings, though he didn't remember most of them anymore.

when it was time for the vows, charles broke down again as he thanked his bride for saving a spot for his dad and his godfather, that he didn't think of doing something like that despite how much he wanted them to be there on their wedding there. he thanked her and promised to love her forever. he promised to cherish her and always be there for her, and he promised that he would always be at her beck and call, because she was the greatest gift he'd ever gotten.

y/n cried as well. it surprised jules a little bit. maybe he wasn't expecting her to cry as well. but, it was nice to see. to see that their love for each other was so overwhelming that smiles could not contain it.

she said her vows as well. she told him that she knew how much he missed his father and godfather and she wanted to do something small that would make him feel closer to them. she told him how much she loved him and how much she's going to continue loving him. she promised him to be the first one jumping for every win, and be the first hug he needs when he's disappointed. she promised that she would hold onto his hand as long as he held onto her, and she promised to laugh at every joke he said, regardless of how funny or not funny it was.

almost everyone was in tears. jules was too.

when the priest finally said, "you may kiss your bride," the couple did not waste another second. charles' hands cupped her face, as she held onto his wrists, and they kissed for the first time as a married couple.

jules smiled.

he knew pushing y/n towards charles was a good idea.

he knew he'd made the right decision, even from the sky.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

i genuinely feel like my writing skills have massively deteriorated. im not even fishing. im just saying. i feel like it takes me one or two tries to get a particular driver right. i don't really pay as much attention to the other drivers as i do with lando, and also that i connect with lando a lot personality wise, so its easier for me to write him. anyways, i hope you like this! im sorry it took me so long to write this one! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry

[ekybrini]

Slipping through your fingers | jack Hughes (jack's pov)

⟡ request: I fear we need slipping through my fingers in jack pov 🤭

⟡ (PART ONE) slipping through my fingers (reader's pov)

⟡PART TWO

— ⟡ summary | Jack's pov. in which y/n and Jake childhood best friends who've always had something there for each other. But once he gets drafted everything changed for both of them.

— ⟡ warnings | none (that I am aware of)

— ⟡ word count | 10.1k

— ⟡ gabs note | hiii!! im actually shocked people enjoyed slipping through my fingers!! it was so fun to write. someone requested to do jacks pov and I thought that was honestly a brilliant idea! However, im not fully doing a jack pov but only from his rookie camp to their breakup.

Jack's legs are burning, his chest tight, lungs working overtime as he skates down the ice. His heart pounds so hard he can feel it in his throat. He cuts toward the net, shifts his weight, and fires a shot.

Wide.

“Come on, Hughes!” Coach’s voice cuts through the noise, sharp and impatient. “You’ve got to finish those.”

Jack circles back into the drill, his jaw clenched so tight it hurts. He knows Coach is right. He’s been off all morning heavy legs, slower reactions. He’s never had to work this hard to keep up before.

The next rush isn’t any better. He makes a sloppy pass that Bratt easily picks off, and before he can even recover, the puck’s behind the net. Jack skates back toward the bench, tugging at his helmet as Coach calls the next line. His chest heaves. He’s exhausted, but the practice isn’t even halfway over.

When practice finally ends, Jack peels off his gloves and slumps on the bench, his legs trembling beneath him. Nico drops down next to him, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Rough one?”

Jack huffs out a humorless laugh. “Yeah.”

“You’ll get there,” Nico says easily. “It’s only your first week.”

Jack doesn’t answer. He knows Nico means well, but it doesn’t help. Everyone’s watching him, the staff, the media, his teammates waiting for him to look like a first overall pick. He’s supposed to be ready for this.

“You good?” Nico asks.

Jack forces a small smile. “Yeah.”

But he isn’t.

After his shower, Jack sits at his locker for a long time, his hair still damp, phone in his hands. There’s a text from Quinn.

“How’s camp going?”

Jack doesn’t answer right away. He scrolls past Quinn’s message to the one from you earlier that morning.

“Good luck today! You’ve got this <3”

Jack swipes his thumb over the screen, lingering on the heart symbol. His chest tightens. He wants to call you. He almost does his finger hovers over your name but then he remembers how bad today was. The last thing he wants is to hear you tell him how proud you are when he feels like he’s already letting everyone down.

Instead, he texts Quinn back.

“It’s fine.”

His phone buzzes a minute later.

“You sure?”

Jack ignores it.

Jack finally calls you that night, even though he feels like he shouldn’t. He’s lying on his bed, one arm thrown over his face, his phone pressed to his ear. He almost hangs up before you pick up, but then you answer, your voice soft and warm.

“Hey.”

Jack’s chest loosens a little at the sound of your voice.

“Hey,” he says.

“How was it?”

Jack hesitates. He could lie and say it was good, that he’s adjusting but he’s too tired to pretend tonight.

“Brutal,” he admits.

“What happened?”

Jack’s throat tightens. “Fitness testing.” He huffed a laugh, but there’s no real humor in it. “Like the Combine but worse.”

You make a soft noise of sympathy. “Worse?”

“Longer. Harder.” Jack swallows. “I thought I was ready for it, but I don’t know.”

“You’re gonna be fine,” you say. Your voice is steady, certain. Like you believe it.

Jack closes his eyes. He wants to believe it too. But the truth is, he isn’t sure.

“It’s not just the testing,” he says after a long pause. “The practices, everyone’s so fast. So strong. I’m trying to keep up, but it feels like I’m a step behind.”

You’re quiet for a second, and Jack’s heart clenches at the silence. Then you say, “You’ve barely been there for a week, Jack.”

“I know,” Jack says. “But it’s not supposed to feel this hard.”

“You put too much pressure on yourself.”

Jack smiles faintly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s kinda hard not to.”

“You’re not gonna figure it out overnight.”

“I know.”

“But you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Jack’s quiet. Your voice is soft in his ear, steady and sure. Jack feels the tension in his chest ease, just a little.

“I hope you’re right,” he says quietly.

“I always am.”

Jack’s throat tightens. He feels like he doesn’t deserve this your calm certainty, your unwavering belief in him. He hasn’t earned it. But he’s too selfish to push you away yet.

“Can I call you tomorrow?” he asks.

“You don’t have to ask.”

Jack’s breath catches. He closes his eyes. “I love you and I miss you.”

“I love and miss you too,” you whisper.

Jack holds the phone to his ear for a long time after the call ends. He listens to the empty static until the line goes dead.

Jack starts texting you more after that, but the cracks are still there. He knows you can hear it when he calls late at night, his voice low and rough. He can hear the quiet concern in your voice when you ask how he’s doing, even when you don’t push.

But Jack can feel himself slipping. The frustration bleeds into his game, missed shots, bad reads, plays he’d usually make without thinking suddenly feel impossible. He’s trying so hard to hold it together that it’s making everything worse.

You try to help. He knows that. He can hear it in your voice when you tell him to stop being so hard on himself, that it’s going to be okay. But the thing is  Jack isn’t sure it is.

He starts calling you less. Some nights he doesn’t answer when you call. His texts get shorter, less frequent. He knows it’s hurting you. He can feel the distance growing between you but he can’t stop it. He doesn’t know how to explain that he’s not sure he can do this. Maybe everyone’s wrong about him.

Jack doesn’t say any of that. He just lets the silence grow.

The first few weeks are more of the same. Jack’s fast but it’s not enough. He’s getting pushed around, knocked off the puck more than he’s used to. He's trying so hard but it’s not working. His hands don’t feel right, and he’s starting to hesitate when he gets the puck. He’s thinking too much, and it’s slowing him down.

After every game, his phone buzzes with texts from you. His replies are short.

“Minus-three. Fucking embarrassing.” “I can’t score.” “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

He’s trying to stay positive, but it’s hard when the Devils are 0-4-2 to start the season, and he’s still scoreless. The media’s already running with it headlines about whether he was overhyped, if he’s too small for the league. Jack tries to ignore it, but it’s everywhere.

It’s late one night when he calls you. He’s lying on the couch in his dark apartment, his arm draped over his eyes. His voice is low, barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he says.

“You will,” you say.

Jack swallows. His throat burns. “I just” His breath shakes. “I miss you.”

Your breath catches. “I miss you too.”

Jack’s chest tightens. He closes his eyes. “I hate it here,” he says quietly.

“I know.”

“I don’t know how to do this without you.”

“You’re not doing this without me,” you whisper.

Jack’s quiet for a long time. He listens to the sound of your breathing. It steadies him, just a little. “I just want to come home,” he says, his voice breaking.

“I know,” you say. “But you can’t.”

Jack doesn’t say anything. After a while, his breathing slows, and he realizes you’ve stayed on the line, listening. He falls asleep like that, your breathing soft in his ear.

only ever being able to fall asleep on phone call with you.

⟡

Jack’s first NHL goal comes two weeks into the season, and by then, he’s starting to wonder if it’s ever going to happen. He’s been pressing too much, probably but it’s hard not to when the pressure’s this loud. The noise isn’t just in his head it’s everywhere. Every game, every practice, every postgame interview, the questions are the same.

"Are you frustrated with the lack of production?" "Do you feel like the game is moving too fast for you?" "Do you think you were ready for the NHL?"  

“Do you think you deserve to go number one overall?”

He’s tired of it. He knows they’re right, he's not playing like himself. He’s gripping his stick too tight, his passes are off, and his shot feels wrong. The whole thing feels wrong. He’s been waiting his whole life for this, and now that he’s here, it’s like he forgot how to play hockey.

So when the Canucks roll into town, and Quinn’s on the other bench, Jack figures maybe that’s what he needs something familiar. A piece of home. But even with Quinn there, Jack feels the pressure simmering beneath his skin. He hasn’t scored yet. He’s supposed to be the franchise’s future, and he’s zero goals in six games. Not good enough.

Jack tries to focus on the game, but it’s more of the same. The first period is rough. His legs feel heavy, his hands are stiff, and the Canucks’ defense is all over him. Every time he tries to make a play, there’s a body on him, cutting him off, shoving him into the boards. He finishes the period minus-one, and the Devils are down two goals.

In the second period, Quinn’s line comes over the boards, and Jack watches him for a second too long the way Quinn moves with the puck, smooth and patient, like he’s not even thinking about it. Jack used to play like that. He’s not sure why it feels so impossible now.

The shift after Quinn’s line changes off, Jack gets caught flat footed and turns the puck over in the neutral zone. The Canucks score on the rush. He slams his stick into the glass as the red light flashes.

"Get your head out of your ass, Jack."

He hears it from the bench, not even sure who said it. Probably Nico. He deserves it.

The third period starts with the Devils down 4-1. Jack’s just trying to get through it without screwing up again. He’s not even thinking about scoring anymore, just about not being a liability.

Then the puck jumps loose at the blue line, and suddenly, Jack’s skating onto it with open ice in front of him. His instincts kick in before his mind can catch up. His feet dig into the ice, and he’s flying down the wing. It’s just him and Thatcher Demko.

His breath catches. His heart is hammering in his chest. His hands feel light on his stick for the first time in weeks.

Demko bites on the first fake Jack pulls the puck wide and tucks it under his pad.

It’s in.

He hears the horn, the crowd exploding, but it’s like there’s a second where everything goes quiet. He blinks, almost unsure if it really happened, and then he feels the weight of his teammates barreling into him. Nico’s yelling in his ear, and Bratt’s arms are around his shoulders, and Jack’s laughing, almost breathless.

"You did it!" Nicos’s grinning, his face inches from Jack’s, his arms wrapped tight around him. "That’s your first fucking goal!"

Jack’s laughing, breathless and shaking. His heart’s still racing, but this time it feels good. His body feels light for the first time in weeks. He can feel the tension lifting off his chest, his ribs expanding as he breathes.

When they finally separate, Quinn’s still grinning at him. He gives Jack’s helmet a rough shake before skating away. Jack’s teammates pull him in again, and his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s smiling.

After the final horn, Jack’s the last one off the ice. The Devils still lost 5-2, but Jack’s first goal is the only thing anyone’s talking about. The locker room is louder than it’s been all season guys slapping his back, ruffling his hair, Nico grinning at him like a proud older brother.

Jack ducks out early to check his phone. There’s already a flood of texts. From his parents. From Luke. From Quinn.

And from you.

"Holy shit! That was insane!"

"You finally did it!!!"

he stares at it for a long time before locking his phone and sliding it in his back pocket. He just can’t. Not when he feels like he's failing everyone.

Later that night, when the room is dark and the quiet feels too heavy, Jack calls you.

You pick up on the second ring. “Jack?”

His throat feels tight. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

You sit up and Jack can hear the rustle of your sheets. “You will.”Jack doesn’t say anything for a long time.

His chest feels hollow. “I just” He sighs. “I miss you.”

Your breath hitches. “I miss you too.”

Jack squeezes his eyes shut. His hands are curled into the comforter, his knuckles aching. “I hate it here,” he says quietly.

“I know.” Your voice is soft.

Jack swallows. His chest aches. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

“You’re not doing this without me,” you whisper.

Jack’s eyes sting. His throat burns. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. “I just want to come home.”

You’re quiet for a moment. Then you say, “I know.”

Jack breathes out slowly, his chest tight. He doesn’t say anything, but you don’t hang up. Just like always.

⟡

Jack’s rookie season was supposed to be exciting. It was supposed to be everything he’d worked for. But it’s November now, and the Devils are on a six-game losing streak. Jack hasn’t scored in nine games. The media isn’t holding back. Every headline is brutal. Every post-game interview is worse. He’s not smiling as much anymore. He’s quiet when you call, sometimes too tired to even talk. And when you visit, it feels like he’s somewhere else entirely.  

The last time you’d visited was two weeks ago. You flew out to Newark to see him play the first time you’d been able to since the season started. Jack remembers the way you looked when you showed up outside the locker room afterward hopeful, bright eyed, trying to make him smile. But he barely looked at you. His head hurt, his body was sore, and the weight of the loss was pressing down on him too hard. He hugged you, but it was quick. Too quick. He hadn’t even said much. His head was still in the game, replaying the missed chances, the defensive breakdowns, the sting of another loss.  

He remembers the way you sat with his family during the game, the way Luke leaned over to talk to you sometimes, how you’d smile at him, even when Jack was playing like shit. He remembers how heavy his legs felt on the ice, how the tension sat in his shoulders even when he tried to shake it off. He’d been the last one off the ice after the loss, his head down, his mouth pulled tight. He couldn’t even look at you afterward.  

He called you late that night you left back to Michigan, when he was already back at his place, lying in the dark. You sounded half asleep when you picked up.  

“I'm just sorry I couldn’t see you more,” Jack had said. His voice was low, rough.  

“I get it,” you’d say. “It’s okay.”  

“I’m just tired,” Jack had whispered.   

Now it’s almost midnight again. Jack’s sitting on the edge of his bed, phone in his hand. He’s read your texts two of them, both sitting there unanswered but he can’t bring himself to respond. His head hurts. His chest feels tight. He knows you’re probably waiting for him to call, but he just can’t. He’s started turning his phone off after games. Less noise, less pressure but it’s not helping.   

You call him the next morning before class. Jack’s half asleep when he answers on the third ring.  

“Hey,” he mumbles.  

“Hey,” you say softly. “You okay?”  

Jack rubs a hand over his face. His throat feels dry. “Yeah. Just tired.”  

“You’ve been saying that a lot,” you say gently.  

Jack’s quiet for a long time. His chest feels tight. His eyes burn. He wants to tell you the truth that he feels like he’s unraveling, like the weight of everything is pressing down too hard but he can’t.  

“Yeah,” he says instead.  

“Jack,” you start. Your voice is soft. Steady. The way it always is when you’re trying to reach him.  

“I’m fine,” Jack says quickly. Too quickly. His heartbeat stutters.  

“You’re not,” you say. “You don’t have to-”  

“I said I’m fine.” His voice is sharp. It cuts through the line before he can stop himself.  

You go quiet. Jack swears under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. His head drops into his hands.  

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I just don't know.”  

“It’s okay,” you say quietly.  

Jack closes his eyes. He’s breathing hard. He feels like he’s underwater, and no matter how hard he kicks, he can’t break the surface. His chest feels like it’s caving in.  

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he whispers.  

“You don’t have to fix it alone,” you say.  

Jack doesn’t answer. His throat is too tight. He knows you mean it that you’re with him but it doesn’t feel like enough. The line goes quiet after a while. Jack doesn’t hang up, but he doesn’t say anything else either.  

The next time he talks to you is after another loss. This time to Toronto. Another night of leaving the rink without a point. Another night of reporters asking him what’s wrong, why he isn’t producing. He’s exhausted when he calls you sitting on the floor of his apartment, his back against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest.  

“I’m trying,” Jack says, his voice tight. “I’m trying, and it’s not working.”  

“I know,” you say softly. “But it’s not your fault. It’s a team”  

“I don’t care if it’s a team thing,” Jack snaps. “I’m the first pick. I’m supposed to be the one fixing it.”  

“Jack-”  

“I have to be better.” His voice cracks. He drops his head against the wall. His chest feels like it’s going to cave in. His eyes burn. “I just don't know how.”  

You’re quiet for a moment. Then you say, “You’re not alone. I’m with you.”  

Jack breathes out, shaky. His throat burns. His hands are shaking, his head pounding. But he doesn’t answer. He can’t. He doesn’t even know how to start letting you in anymore.  

The call ends not long after that. Jack doesn’t even remember hanging up. He sat there on the floor for a long time afterward, his hands clenched into his knees, his head tipped back against the wall.  You want to help him, Jack knows that but he can feel the distance growing between you. He feels himself starting to slip through your fingers. And maybe the worst part is that he doesn’t know how to stop it. 

⟡

It starts small.  

Jack doesn’t notice it at first. He’s busy, exhausted, caught up in the grind of his rookie season. Every day feels the same practice, game, media, repeat. It’s easy to tell himself that he’s just tired, that it’s not a big deal when he misses a call or leaves a text sitting there a little too long. It’s not like he’s never done that before.  

But then it keeps happening.  

He sees your name light up his phone after a game, and he tells himself he’ll answer after dinner. Then it’s after dinner, and he’s too wiped out to even think about holding a conversation. He tells himself he’ll text you when he’s in bed, but by then, his head’s already heavy on the pillow, and the phone’s still facedown on the nightstand.  

He misses your call. Then another one. And then a text sits there, unread for hours. Sometimes a whole day. And when he finally gets around to replying, he can’t shake the guilt in his chest when you still answer immediately. Like you’ve been waiting. Like he’s let you down.  

And maybe he has.  

He knows he has.  

He can hear it in your voice when he calls you late, hours after he said he would, and you still sound happy to hear from him but not quite the same. Softer. More careful. Like you’re starting to expect it now. Like you’re already bracing for disappointment.  

“Hey,” Jack says, his voice thin over the phone. He already knows how this conversation’s going to go.  

“Hey,” you say softly, the sound of your voice like a balm and a knife all at once. “You okay?”  

Jack closes his eyes. Presses the heel of his hand over them. He’s so tired. Not just physically, but deep in his chest, like there’s a weight he can’t shake.  

“Yeah,” he says. “Just tired.”  

He always says that. Because it’s true. But it’s more than that, and he knows it. He knows you know it, too.  

“You played well tonight,” you say, your voice warm. “Had that sick pass in the second.”  

Jack breathes out through his nose. “Didn’t matter. We still lost.”  

“It’s not on you.”  

But it feels like it is.  

Jack’s always been hard on himself, but this is different. It’s deeper. Heavier. The media’s been brutal since the season started. He tries not to read the articles anymore, but he can’t help it sometimes. Jack Hughes isn’t living up to expectations. First overall pick, only four goals?  The weight of it sits on his chest every time he steps onto the ice. Every time he answers another question in the locker room. Every time he sits down in front of a mic and tries to explain why he’s not winning.  

The last time he FaceTimed you, he could feel it hanging between you. You were smiling, making some dumb joke about how you were going to start training to be the Devils’ new enforcer, and he’d tried to laugh but it barely came out. The crease in his forehead never went away.  

“Sorry,” he’d said. “I’m just-”  

“Tired,” you’d finished for him. He hated how easily you could fill in the blank.  

It’s late now. He’s lying in bed, phone pressed to his ear, the room dark except for the light from the street filtering through the blinds. You’re still on the other end of the line, your breathing soft and steady.  

“It was bad,” Jack says. He hates how small his voice sounds. How defeated. “I just, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  

You’re quiet for a second. Then, “Jack, it’s not you. The whole team’s struggling right now.”  

Jack shakes his head, even though you can’t see it. “Yeah, but” He bites down hard on his lip. “I should be better. I was the first overall pick I’m supposed to make a difference.”  

“You are making a difference,” you say. Your voice is so steady, so sure. “It’s your rookie year. No one expects you to carry the team.”  

But they do.  

Jack knows they do.  

Jack Hughes, the face of the franchise. Number one overall pick. Meant to save the Devils.  

He hesitates. Then he whispers, “Feels like I’m trying, but nothing’s working. And people are starting to talk, you know? About how maybe I wasn’t ready, maybe I’m not-”  

“Jack.” Your voice is sharp this time, cutting through the haze in his head. “Stop.”  

He breathes out shakily. His chest tightens.  

“You’re not a mistake,” you say. Your voice softens, but there’s still steel underneath. “You deserve to be there. You worked your ass off for this.”  

“I guess.”  

“Not ‘I guess,’” you push. “Jack, you-”  

“I know,” he cuts in, sharper than he means to. The second the words are out of his mouth, he regrets them. He hears the way your breath hitches on the other end of the line.  

“Sorry,” Jack mutters. His voice cracks. “I’m just tired.”  

“You’re allowed to be tired,” you say.  

Yeah. But it doesn’t feel that way.  

Another stretch of silence settles between you. He knows he should say something, but he’s already sinking into the heaviness of it all again. He’s too tired to explain it. Too tired to try.  

“You want me to stay on the phone with you?” you ask quietly.  

He should say no. He knows you’ve probably got class in the morning. But the thought of hanging up feels heavier than it should.  

“No, it’s okay,” Jack says automatically.  

“I’ll stay,” you say anyway.  

His throat tightens. “Okay.”  

He hears you shift on the other end, the soft rustle of blankets. The warmth of your presence reaches through the phone, even with the space between you. He closes his eyes. Let the sound of your breathing settle under his skin.  

He doesn’t know how long he lies there like that. Long enough for the tension to drain from his shoulders. Long enough for his breathing to start matching yours. Long enough to forget, just for a second, how much this season hurts.  

And for now, it’s enough.  

But deep down, Jack knows it’s not going to be enough forever. 

⟡

It’s been months of missed calls, delayed texts, and half-hearted conversations. Jack's always tired. Or busy. Or distracted. And when you talk, it’s like he’s only halfway there like some part of him is already pulling away. He’s tried not to read into it, convinced himself it’s just the pressure of his rookie season, that things will settle once he finds his rhythm. But deep down, he knows better. It’s not just hockey. It’s you. It’s him. It’s the quiet space growing between you, the way it stretches wider with every unanswered text and every empty conversation.

And now you’re here. In New Jersey. Because you need to know if this is still something you can save or if Jack’s already let it slip away.

DAY ONE

The cab ride from the airport to Jack’s apartment is quiet. Too quiet. The city outside the window passes in a blur of gray and headlights, but Jack doesn’t really see it. His phone sits heavy in his lap, the screen dark except for the faint reflection of the passing streetlights. He taps his thumb against the side of it like he's expecting a message that he knows isn’t coming.

He’d texted her earlier to confirm he’d be home when she arrived. It took him longer than it should have to reply. He almost didn’t answer at all. But when the text came through “Landed. Should be at your place by six.”Jack stared at it for a long time before.

“Okay. I’ll be home.”

That’s it. No “Can’t wait to see you.” No heart emoji like he used to send. Just okay.

Jack’s checking his phone when the buzzer goes off. He sets it down, rubbing a hand over his face before standing up to answer the door. His stomach twists when he sees you standing there. seeing you now feels different. He opens the door and tries to smile.

“Hey,” he says. His voice feels thin in his throat.

“Hey,” you say back, your smile bright but a little too forced. Jack leans down and kisses you, but it’s quick. He feels himself pulling away before he even registers it. His hand finds the small of your back as he guides you inside, but he lets go as soon as the door clicks shut behind you.

You set your bag down by the door and glance around the apartment. Jack knows it probably feels off. He cleaned before you got here, but it still feels wrong. Quiet. His shoes are lined up by the door, the coffee mug on the counter is half full. His phone’s face down on the couch. He sits down, leaving a noticeable gap beside him. You sit too, trying to close the space, but Jack doesn’t move.

“So,” you say after a second. Your voice is too bright. Too careful. “How was practice today?”

Jack shrugs. “Fine.”

“Just fine?”

He doesn’t look at you. “Yeah.”

Jack feels you watching him the sharpness of his jaw, the way his hand rests against his knee. Normally, he’d have his arm around you by now. Normally, he’d be talking about the drills and how Nico wouldn’t stop chirping him today. But he doesn’t have the energy to pretend. He flips through channels on the remote instead, not really watching anything.

“Hungry?” he asks eventually.

“Yeah, I could eat.”

“Cool.” Jack stands up. “I’ll order something.”

He steps into the kitchen and pulls out his phone, opening DoorDash. His thumb hovers over the screen. He knows what she likes avocado rolls, extra soy sauce, no wasabi. He knows she hates spicy tuna.

He orders spicy tuna.

And he knows why he does it. He just wants her to say something about it. To get mad. To push him. If she snaps at him, maybe it’ll be easier than this quiet unraveling.

“Food should be here in like, twenty minutes,” he says.

You nod. “Okay.”

Silence. Jack’s knee brushes against yours for half a second, but he pulls away. He feels you watching him. He knows you’re waiting for something  waiting for him to fix this  but he doesn’t know how.

“Did you, um, talk to Quinn today?” you ask quietly. “He was asking about you.”

Jack’s jaw tightens. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“He’s good.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but Jack doesn’t. The silence stretches out between you, thick and heavy. You lean toward him, your voice dropping. “Jack. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he says too quickly.

“It doesn’t feel like nothing.”

Jack sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just been a long week.”

He’s not lying. He’s exhausted from hockey, from the media, from trying to pretend like everything’s fine when it’s not. But that’s not the whole truth. He knows it. He knows you know it, too.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” you say softly.

Jack’s eyes flick toward you, and for a second for a second he feels it. The quiet warmth of you. The comfort of knowing you’re always there. Knowing that he can melt in your arms at any given moment. His chest tightens, and his mouth opens like he might actually say something.

Then the buzzer goes off.

Jack stands too fast. “That’s the food.”

He heads to the door, relief and dread twisting together under his skin. When he comes back, he drops the takeout bag on the table. He opens the containers  sushi, not your favorite and hands you a pair of chopsticks without thinking. He sits down, flipping back to the game on the TV.

You stare at the food. “Did you know what I wanted?”

Jack’s mouth tightens. “I just ordered something quick.”

You don’t say anything. Jack eats quietly, his eyes on the game. He can feel the tension coming off you, sharp and heavy, but he doesn’t know how to reach for you. He doesn’t know if he even can anymore.

After a few minutes, Jack stands and starts cleaning up. He takes your barely touched container and tosses it in the trash without a word.

“I’m gonna shower,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh. Okay.”

Jack hesitates in the doorway. He knows he should say something to reach for you like he always has, sit back down, tell you he’s sorry for being distant. But his throat feels tight, and the words stick there, unmoving. So he walks away instead.

The water’s hot when he steps into the shower. Jack leans his forehead against the tile, the sound of the water drowning out the noise in his head. His chest feels tight. His body aches.

He knows you’re out there sitting alone on the couch, probably wondering why the hell you even came. Jack squeezes his eyes shut. He knows he should fix this. He wants to fix it. But part of him wonders if it’s already too late.

When Jack gets out of the shower, the apartment is quiet. His phone buzzes on the couch a text from Nico

“Good skate today.”

Jack’s chest tightens. He grabs his phone, then looks over at you. You’re curled up on the couch, knees pulled toward your chest, staring at the dark screen of the TV.

He sets his phone down and sits beside you. His knee brushes against yours again. This time, he doesn’t move away.

You shift, glancing at him, and Jack feels his throat tighten again. His chest aches. He wants to say something. Fix Something. But the words sit heavy on his tongue, unmoving.

“I’m tired,” Jack says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod slowly. “I know.”

Jack leans back against the couch, his head tipping toward the ceiling. Your hand is right there, close enough to reach for. Jack’s fingers twitch, but he doesn’t move. He just sits there, feeling the weight of the space between you.

DAY TWO 

Jack sleeps with his back to her.

It’s not the first time, but it feels different tonight. 

His side of the bed feels miles away, the sheets cool and untouched where her body should be. He lies there, staring at the wall, listening to the sound of her breathing. It’s light, shallow like she’s not really sleeping. Every few minutes, she shifts, the mattress dipping under her weight. Jack’s eyes stay open in the dark. His breathing is steady, but his chest feels tight, like he’s waiting for something.

Her hand twitches under the blanket. He feels it, even though they’re not touching. He knows how close she is, the warmth of her body radiating through the sheets. She could reach for him. He wants her to reach for him.

But she doesn’t.

And he knows why.

Jack shifts, curling his arm beneath his head and inching closer to the edge of the bed. The space between them stretches wide and cold. He swallows hard and closes his eyes. Sleep doesn’t come. His mind won’t quiet down. He keeps thinking about practice, about the losing streak, about the endless noise of media questions and expectations. About her. The way she looked at him earlier, like she was waiting for him to let her in.

He couldn’t. He’s not sure why anymore. He just knows that he’s been holding her at arm’s length for weeks now. Maybe months. And he doesn’t know how to fix it.

At some point, he falls into a restless sleep.

When he wakes up, it’s still dark. His body feels heavy, his head foggy. He’s half hanging off the edge of the bed, his face turned toward the wall. His arm is cramped beneath his head, but he doesn’t move. He hears her shift behind him, the faint sound of the sheets rustling.

He knows she’s awake. He can feel her looking at him. His skin burns under her gaze, but he doesn’t turn toward her. If he looks at her, if he meets her eyes, he’s not sure he’ll be able to hold it together.

Her breath hitches softly. He wonders if she’s about to say something. If she’s about to reach for him. His fingers curl into the pillowcase, bracing for it.

But nothing comes.

Jack’s chest tightens. He closes his eyes and forces himself back to sleep.

He wakes up first. His body is stiff when he pushes himself out of bed, his neck aching from the way he slept. He stands there for a second, looking at her curled up beneath the blankets, her face half-hidden in the pillow. She looks so peaceful like that. Soft. Vulnerable. Like she’s not hurting the way he knows she is.

Jack’s stomach twists. He leans down and brushes his lips over her forehead, so light she barely stirs. Then he grabs his phone and heads for the shower.

The water is too hot, but Jack stands under the spray anyway, his hands pressed to his face. His mind keeps circling back to the same thoughts. The same weight in his chest. He’s messing this up. He knows he is. But every time he tries to reach for her, to close the space between them, he freezes. He doesn’t know how to explain it. He’s not sure she’d want to hear it anyway.

By the time he gets out, she’s still in bed. Jack dresses quickly and makes his way to the kitchen. He pours protein powder into a shaker and watches the powder swirl as he shakes it. His hands are steady, but his heart feels off balance.

She appears in the doorway a few minutes later. Her hair is messy from sleep, her eyes soft with that quiet vulnerability that always makes his chest ache.

“Morning,” she says, her voice soft.

“Hey,” Jack says. He keeps his eyes on the protein shake. He spins the cup slowly in his hands, condensation trailing down the side.

She sits across from him, pulling her knees up to her chest. He feels her watching him. Waiting. He hates how obvious it is, how badly she wants him to let her in, how hard he’s making it.

“Sleep okay?” she asks.

Jack nods. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Mmhmm.” His gaze darts toward the window. He can feel the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his throat. He forces a swallow.

“What time’s practice?”

“Ten.”

“You wanna grab coffee after?”

Jack’s fingers tighten around the cup. His chest knots. He hesitates just a little too long before answering. “I don’t know. We’ve got media stuff later.”

“Oh.”

The quiet disappointment in her voice makes his stomach twist. He hates himself for it.

Jack stands and rinses out the cup in the sink. He keeps his back to her, his hands braced on the edge of the counter. He feels her eyes on him. He knows what she’s going to ask before she even speaks.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Jack.”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. When he speaks, his voice is tight. “It’s just a lot right now.”

He knows it’s not enough. He knows it’s not what she needs to hear. But it’s all he can give her right now.

Her silence stretches behind him. Jack grips the edge of the counter until his knuckles turn white. Then he exhales and grabs his keys from the hook by the door.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” He tries to make it sound light, easy. Like this isn’t falling apart around them.

“We could go out tonight,” she says. Her voice is careful. Hopeful. “Dinner or something.”

Jack’s hand pauses on the door handle. He hesitates, his heart beating too hard in his chest. He meets her eyes for a second, guarded. “Yeah. We’ll figure something out.”

Then he’s gone.

Jack’s phone buzzes while he’s in the locker room. He’s still half in his gear, sweat drying on his skin. He grabs the phone from his locker, his stomach tightening when he sees her name on the screen.

“You home soon?”

Jack swipes his thumb over the message, typing out a quick response: “Practice ran long. Gonna be late.”

He doesn’t hit send right away. He sits there with the message glowing on the screen, his thumb hovering over the button. His chest feels tight.

He knows exactly how this feels. Like something slipping away, slow and steady. And he’s just sitting there, letting it happen.

Finally, he hits send.

The message disappears. Jack exhales, pressing the heel of his hand into his chest like he can force the ache down.

He knows he should go home. He should sit her down and tell her what’s been weighing on him the pressure, the fear of disappointing everyone, the helplessness every time he steps on the ice and it’s not enough. He should tell her how scared he is that she’s already halfway out the door and that he doesn’t know how to stop it.

But he won’t.

Instead, Jack stands and pulls his hoodie over his head. His phone buzzes again in his hand.

“Okay.”

That’s it. Just “Okay.”

Jack stares at it for a long time, his chest burning with something he can’t name. Then he shoves his phone into his pocket and heads toward the exit.

DAY THREE

It was worse the next day. He could feel it the second he woke up the quiet, the weight in the air pressing down on his chest. Everything felt off, like he was two steps behind and couldn’t catch up.

You sat on the couch, legs tucked under you, scrolling on your phone when he came out of the bedroom. You glanced up and smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. It hadn’t for a while now. Jack’s stomach twisted. He thought about walking over, sitting next to you, maybe pulling you into his side but instead, he grabbed his phone from the counter and stared at the screen like it had something important to tell him.

“Do you want to grab lunch?” you asked, your voice light. Careful.

Jack hesitated. He didn’t mean to, but it was like his brain couldn’t process the question fast enough. “Yeah, sure,” he said after a beat. His voice sounded flat. Detached.

Your smile flickered for half a second before you smoothed it over. Jack hated how easily you could do that now hide how you were feeling. He used to be able to tell when you were upset, but lately, it was like you were learning how to keep it from him. He hated that.

At lunch, he couldn’t focus. His knee bounced under the table while you picked at your food. His phone vibrated on the table, and he picked it up automatically. It was nothing important, just a text from Nico about practice tomorrow. But he scrolled through the messages anyway, just to have something to do with his hands.

“Jack.”

Your voice pulled his attention, and his eyes flicked toward you.

“Hm?”

“Can you put that down?”

Jack sighed, but he set the phone down, screen facedown on the table. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to meet your eyes.

“Okay.”

You looked at him for a long moment. Jack could see the question behind your eyes do you even want me here? but you didn’t say it. You just smiled again, tight and polite. He hated it.

Jack forced a conversation about hockey, something easy, something that didn’t require too much emotional energy. You nodded along, asked questions, but your eyes kept dropping to the table. He could feel you pulling away. Or maybe he was the one pulling away. He didn’t even know anymore.

That night, Jack sat at the edge of the bed, scrolling on his phone again. His thumb swiped over the screen even though he wasn’t really reading anything. He heard you behind him the sound of the sheets shifting, the quiet hitch in your breathing and then he felt your hand on his back.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly.

Jack’s shoulders tensed under your touch. He hated how much it comforted him and how much it made his chest ache at the same time. He forced himself to stay still.

“Yeah,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

“You don’t seem like it.”

“I’m fine, okay?” His voice sharpened, cutting through the quiet.

He felt you freeze behind him. His pulse hammered in his ears. He knew he shouldn’t have said it like that, but the words were already out, and he couldn’t take them back. He stood up and walked toward the bathroom without looking at you.

When he closed the door behind him, he leaned back against it and dragged his hands down his face. His heart was pounding.

He didn’t know why it felt so hard to reach for you. You were right there, but it felt like you were already halfway out the door and Jack wasn’t sure if he was supposed to stop you or let you go.

DAY FOUR

Jack woke up slowly, his face half-buried in the pillow. The sunlight filtering through the blinds made his eyes ache. His body felt heavy, like he’d barely slept. He could feel the warmth of her hand on his back, the soft drag of her fingertips across his skin. For a second, it almost felt normal. Like things weren’t unraveling between them.

"Morning," she whispered.

Jack’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked at her sleepily, then rubbed a hand over his face. "Morning."

She smiled at him that soft, easy smile she always gave him. The one that used to make his chest ache in a good way. But now, it twisted something uncomfortable inside him.

She leaned down and kissed his shoulder. He should’ve smiled. Kissed her back. Rolled over and pulled her into him like he used to. But instead, his body stayed stiff. He sat up, running a hand through his hair.

"What time is it?"

"Almost nine."

Jack nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I should get going soon."

"Going where?" she asked. Her voice was light, but he heard the edge beneath it. "I thought you had today off."

Jack stood, stretching. "I do. I'm just gonna go work out with some of the guys."

"Oh." He could feel her eyes on his back, the way her voice had softened. "Can I come?"

Jack hesitated, his chest tightening. He knew how it would sound before he even said it, but the words still slipped out. "I mean it’s just going to be boring."

"I don’t care."

Jack’s throat tightened. She meant it he knew she did but the idea of having her there made him feel off. Like she’d see something in him that he wasn’t ready for. Like she’d notice how tired he was, how hard it had been to keep up this act lately.

"I think we’re just gonna grab lunch after. Probably end up hanging out at Nico’s." His voice felt too casual. Too detached.

She was quiet for a moment. "So you don’t want me there?"

Jack’s stomach dropped. He turned toward her, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "It’s not that."

"Then what is it?"

Jack sighed, already feeling the edge of a headache. "I don’t know. Just feels like a guys' thing, you know?"

The hurt on her face hit him like a punch to the chest. He hated this, hated the way he was making her feel. But he didn’t know how to stop. It was easier to push her away than to figure out why everything felt so wrong.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Jack grabbed it without thinking, thumb sliding over the screen.

Nico. A faint smile tugged at his mouth.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Nico." He texted back quickly and tossed his phone onto the bed. His body was already moving toward the bathroom before he could think better of it.

"I’ll be back later," Jack called over his shoulder.

"Cool," she murmured. The quiet hurt in her voice followed him all the way into the shower.

When he got back that afternoon, she was curled up on the couch, knees pulled to her chest. She looked small like that. Jack’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. He tossed his keys onto the counter and sat down across from her, pulling out his phone.

It was easier to scroll through his phone than to look at her. Easier to pretend everything was fine.

"How was it?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"Your workout."

Jack shrugged. "Good."

"Anything else?"

Jack didn’t look up. "Nope."

He could feel the tension creeping between them like a weight settling over his chest. He hated this. Hated how wrong it all felt. Hated how she made him feel like a bad person just for breathing wrong.

She shifted closer, resting a hand on his arm. "Jack."

He tensed. "What?"

His tone was sharp. Too sharp. He saw her flinch.

"Do you want to do something tonight?" she asked quietly.

Jack sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He was so fucking tired. "I don’t know. I’m kind of tired."

"Oh."

His gaze flicked toward her. She was looking at him carefully, her brow furrowed.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

Jack’s phone buzzed again. He grabbed it without thinking. Another text from Nico. He smiled at the screen just for a second  but when he glanced up, her hand had already fallen away from his arm.

The guilt pressed down hard on his chest. He hated himself at that moment. Hated how easy it was to disappoint her.

"Jack."

"Hmm?"

"Do you even want me here?"

Jack’s head snapped toward her, heart thudding painfully. "What kind of question is that?"

She swallowed. "You’re barely looking at me. You don’t talk to me. When you do, it feels like you’re trying to get through it so you can go back to your phone. Just say it if you don’t want me here."

Jack’s throat burned. He hated how much truth there was in her words. He hated that he didn’t know how to fix it.

"Jesus," he muttered. "You’re making this a bigger deal than it is."

"A bigger deal?" Her voice sharpened. "Jack, I flew to New Jersey to see you. I’m trying so hard to hold this together, but you’re not even meeting me halfway."

Jack’s chest felt tight. "I didn’t ask you to come."

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Her face went blank. Her mouth parted slightly.

"What?"

"I didn’t ask you to come," Jack repeated, softer this time. He wanted to take it back, but it was already hanging between them, jagged and sharp.

Her throat bobbed. "Wow."

Jack ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. "I didn’t mean it like that"

"You did."

Jack’s heart hammered painfully against his ribs. "I-"

"I can’t," she said, her voice shaking. "I can’t do this anymore."

Jack’s head snapped toward her. "What does that mean?"

"It means I’m done."

Jack’s chest caved in. "So that’s it? You’re giving up?"

She laughed bitterly. "You gave up first."

Jack’s jaw clenched. He was losing her and he could feel it slipping between his fingers. He was going to ruin this, and he didn’t know how to stop himself.

"Fine," he said. His voice was cold now. Detached. "If you want to go, then go."

She stared at him, tears filling her eyes. "You’re not even going to try to stop me?"

Jack’s mouth twisted. "What do you want me to say? That I miss you? That I love you? You already know that, but it’s not enough, is it?"

"It’s not enough if you’re not going to show it!"

Jack’s breath hitched. He didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t know how to explain that he was scared, scared of losing her, scared of how much he needed her.

"Yeah?" Jack’s mouth curved into something ugly. "Well, maybe you don’t."

The second it came out, Jack’s chest caved in.

Her face crumbled. "You said it."

"I-"

"No," she whispered, tears spilling over her cheeks. "You said it. And you know what? Maybe you’re right."

Jack’s heart splintered into a thousand pieces as she grabbed her bag. He stood there, frozen.

"Bye, Jack," she whispered.

Jack didn’t reply. His throat burned as the door clicked shut behind her.

Jack’s throat burned. He sat on the floor of his apartment, back pressed against the wall. His head thudded lightly against the drywall as he stared at his phone. He could still hear the sound of the door closing behind her. The quiet click had felt like a gunshot.

His hands were shaking. His chest ached so badly it hurt to breathe. He pulled his knees up, running his hand down his face. He hadn’t even said anything when she left. He’d just stood there, watching her walk away like a fucking coward.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but the light outside was starting to fade when his phone buzzed against the hardwood. He reached for it automatically. His heart jumped, stupidly hopeful but it wasn’t her.

It was Quinn.

“Hows it going?”

Jack exhaled shakily. His fingers hovered over the screen before he opened a new message. He stared at the empty text box for a long time. Then he started typing.

“I fucked up.”

Three dots appeared almost immediately. Then it disappeared. Then reappeared.

“What happened?”

Jack closed his eyes. He could see her face in his head the way her eyes had filled with tears, the way her voice had cracked when she said, “You’re not even going to try to stop me?” He squeezed his eyes shut, the guilt curling tighter in his chest. His fingers shook as he started typing.

“I pushed her away.” “She asked if I even wanted her there and I said I didn’t ask her to come.”

The second he typed it out, Jack’s stomach twisted. His throat burned. His thumb hovered over the send button for half a second before he forced himself to hit it.

Quinn’s reply came fast.

“Jack.” “What the hell.”

Jack dropped his head back against the wall. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to breathe. His eyes were burning. His chest was so fucking tight it felt like it might split open. He hated himself so much right now.

“I know.” “I didn’t mean it. I was just I don’t know.”

Quinn’s reply took longer this time. Jack watched the three dots flicker for almost a full minute.

“That’s not good enough.”

Jack squeezed his eyes shut. Of course it wasn’t.

“She’s not going to forgive me for this, is she?”

He didn’t know why he was even asking. He already knew the answer.

“I don’t know.” “Did you even try to fix it?”

Jack’s chest twisted painfully. He pictured her standing in the doorway, eyes bright with tears. The way she’d paused, just waiting for him to say something. Waiting for him to fix it.

And he’d just stood there.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Jack’s jaw tightened. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. His heart was beating so loud he could feel it in his ears.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot.”

Jack tossed his phone onto the floor and leaned back against the wall, hands over his face. He couldn’t stop replaying it, the sound of her voice cracking, the way her hand had slipped away from his arm. The way she’d looked at him like he was a stranger.

She always knew how to read him better than anyone else. Even better than Quinn sometimes. But Jack didn’t know how to let her see him like this. He was already drowning under the weight of the season, of the pressure to live up to everything. Of the way the team was falling apart and it was his fucking job to fix it. And now he’d dragged her down with him.

His phone buzzed again. He didn’t want to look at it, but his hand moved toward it anyway.

It was quinn once again.

“You need to tell her that.” “You need to fix this.”

Jack swallowed hard. His hands curled into fists.

“It’s too late.”

Quinn’s reply was immediate.

“Not yet”

Jack’s chest squeezed. He closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the wall. His phone buzzed again.

“But it will be if you don’t try.”

Jack stared at the screen until the light dimmed and his chest ached so badly he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to text her. He wanted to call her. He wanted to fix this so fucking badly but how could he, when he was the reason it broke in the first place?

Instead, he dropped his phone onto the floor and sat there, eyes burning, until it buzzed again.

“Jack.” “Don’t be a coward.”

.He hated himself. Hated how he knew exactly what he was doing and still couldn’t stop it.

And now you are gone.

And Jack already knew it was his fault.

[zuzu-tries-to-write]

Title: Seven Minutes Too Long (Or Not Long Enough)

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance, a little Tension

Summary: Getting stuck in a tiny closet with Bakugo for seven minutes? Worst. Luck. Ever. You want nothing more than to get it over with—but then the tension shifts. The space gets smaller, the air gets heavier, and suddenly, seven minutes might not be long enough.

Tbh I got butterflies when writing it, hope you enjoy!!

⸻

You regretted coming to this party.

You regretted sitting in that stupid circle.

And most of all, you regretted letting Mina spin the damn bottle.

The room had erupted into laughter and cheers when the bottle landed perfectly between you and Bakugo. You swore it was rigged, but before you could protest, you were being dragged toward the closet, your fate sealed by a group of very nosy, very entertained friends.

“Get in there, lovebirds!” Mina cackled, shoving you forward.

“I’m gonna kill you when this is over,” Bakugo growled at her before stepping inside.

The door shut behind you both, and suddenly, you were trapped in a tiny, dark closet with Bakugo Katsuki.

Wonderful.

⸻

Crowded and Uncomfortable

The closet was way too small.

The moment the door clicked shut, you realized just how little space there was. You were practically pressed against Bakugo’s chest, your back against the shelves behind you.

“This is stupid,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “Seven minutes is way too long.”

Bakugo scoffed. “No shit. The hell are we supposed to do in here?”

“Stand here and suffer?”

“Tch. You act like being near me is so unbearable.”

You didn’t respond to that. Because truthfully? You weren’t sure how to respond.

Bakugo was warm. The kind of warm that seeped into your skin, that made you hyper-aware of how close he was. His scent—smoky, a little like caramel—lingered in the air, and it was annoyingly distracting.

You had been able to ignore a lot of things about him before. His stupid smirks. The way he always made your heart race (for reasons you refused to admit). But here? Trapped in this tiny space? There was no ignoring anything.

And then—

The closet shifted.

Or, more accurately, Bakugo shifted.

His arm brushed against yours as he adjusted his stance, and suddenly, his face was a little too close.

His crimson eyes flickered down to your lips. Just for a second.

You swallowed.

“You keep looking at me like that, dumbass, and people are gonna get ideas,” Bakugo muttered, his voice lower than before.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” you shot back, your breath catching slightly.

“Yeah?” His smirk was almost lazy now. “Then why are you nervous?”

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

His voice had dropped even more, and you hated how much it affected you.

The air was thick—so thick that it made your head spin. Neither of you spoke for a moment, the only sound between you being the slightly uneven rhythm of your breathing.

You could just… kiss him.

No. That was insane.

But then—

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Bakugo muttered, tilting his head slightly.

Your breath hitched. “Thinking about what?”

“Kissing me.”

Your heart practically stopped.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t act dumb.” His smirk widened, but there was something else behind it now. A quiet sort of challenge. “I know you want to.”

You scoffed. “You’re ridiculous.”

And then he did something that made your brain short-circuit.

He leaned in.

Not all the way. Not enough to actually kiss you. Just enough for his lips to hover a breath away from yours, waiting.

Testing you.

Your resolve cracked.

Screw it.

You surged forward and kissed him.

And holy hell.

The second your lips touched his, Bakugo made a low noise in the back of his throat, one of surprise and something else entirely. But he didn’t hesitate. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back, hard and deep.

It was messy, rushed—like you’d both been waiting for this way longer than you’d ever admit. His lips moved against yours with purpose, his fingers tightening on your hips like he was afraid you’d change your mind.

You weren’t changing your mind. Not when he kissed like this.

You gasped slightly when he nipped your bottom lip, and he took full advantage, deepening the kiss as his hand slid up your back.

Seven minutes wasn’t going to be enough.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, tangled up in each other, but the second you heard footsteps outside, you barely had time to pull away before the door swung open.

Mina’s grin was nothing short of evil. “So… how’d it go?”

Bakugo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking. “None of your damn business.”

You, on the other hand, just stood there, dazed, your lips still tingling.

And then, as Bakugo walked past you, he leaned down, just enough for only you to hear—

“This ain’t over, dumbass.”

No. It definitely wasn’t.