#even if January hadn’t happened

[kevjeanday]

Zane graduated this summer, which means that if Renee hadn’t gotten Jean from the Nest and Neil hadn’t renegotiated his contract then he would have had a year alongside Grayson with no Zane as a buffer in between them.

[darkmatilda]

𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your relationship is still very new, and you're getting ready to tell the rest of the team about it. in the meantime, you find yourselves again in another unusual hotel...where suddenly spencer starts acting very strangely?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: glasses spencer reid x newbau!female!reader, fluff, intimacy conversation, spender being adorably shy

𝐚/𝐧: 'matilda how many more times are you gonna write that one bed trope' AS MUCH AS I CAN TILL I DIE btw i wrote this fic over a pretty long period of time, had a main idea (supposedly), but in the end i'm not happy with how it turned out—kinda all over the place. anyway, enjoy

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.8k

"My five dollars"

Spencer sighed and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the slightly crumpled bill. You closed it in your hand, a triumphant smile on your face.

"Let's make bets more often, darling," you suggested.

When you used that nickname, his gaze briefly flickered over your face, as if studying whether it had been said purely in jest.

"You’re puffing up like you just invented the wheel," he said, gently shaking his head from side to side. "And just to remind you, all you did was park parallel."

"Parked parallel, indeed. And my coffee?"

He also handed you the paper cup he’d been holding while you performed those incredibly complicated car maneuvers that the bet was about. It was morning, the first day back at work. January, the first days of the new year. You had just arrived at the office parking lot in your car, after spending the night at your place. Everything around you still seemed to smell of that melancholic blend of the past mixed with the fresh scent of the coming months. And coffee, bought at the café on the way.

You took a tiny sip of the hot drink. Spencer, it seemed, hadn’t touched his even once. Both of you, consciously or not, were stretching out the moment just a little longer. And, truth be told, you could afford to. The parking lot around you was only beginning to fill with cars, suggesting the early hour. It was nice to sit there together, sharing the quiet without any discomfort.

You realized this was supposed to be your first day at work as a couple.

A warm, pleasant feeling spread through you at the sound of that word, even though you hadn’t said it out loud. It still felt a little unreal. You had grown closer during the New Year’s Eve party at your place. It was only after that shared—and not just one—kiss that a new perspective dawned on you about the past months of your relationship, revealing some undefined emotions.

"I was wondering..." Spender suddenly began, his brows furrowed slightly, pulling you out of your thoughts.

His gaze suddenly fell on his watch.

"We still have some time," you reassured him calmly. "Let me guess. You've been wondering what would happen if we crossed the DNA of a jellyfish that can reverse its life cycle with the human genome?"

A small smile flickered across his face, a touch of affection despite the rather serious expression on the rest of his face.

"That too," he admitted, nodding. Then he opened his mouth, with some visible hesitation, as if a particular question was troubling him. You shifted in the driver's seat, preparing for whatever he wanted to discuss, whatever he wanted to ask. "How...how are we supposed to act...you know, towards each other? At work?"

For a moment, your brain didn’t understand what he meant. But then, a fleeting oh escaped you as the meaning of his words sank in, and you realized that it was indeed something worth considering. Somehow, over the past few days, neither of you had brought it up. You had just gone back to work, without any reflection on the fact that none of your colleagues knew about the progress in your relationship. About how it had suddenly taken a step to a completely different level.

Spencer studied your face in silence, waiting for a response. As he looked at you, coming up with a logical solution became incredibly difficult. Before you finally said anything, you let out two half-intelligent mutters, like a fish thrown onto the surface.

"We have to tell them," you finally said, stating the obvious. "Somehow. Maybe...we can meet at my place this weekend. All of us. Or we could go out somewhere, and then tell them calmly."

"This weekend?" Spencer repeated cautiously.

It was Monday.

Suddenly, it became incredibly hard to read the expression on his face. He was facing you, his brows slightly furrowed, a look of uncertainty, almost withdrawal. The air inside your car thickened, making the silence even more palpable. He seemed almost concerned, downcast. You froze, wondering if you had really said something wrong.

"So until then," he started more quietly, "are we just supposed to hide it from them?"

“I'm not sure hide is the right word," you replied with a grimace. "I just...I meant, maybe we should wait. For a better moment, you know? Instead of walking into the office on the first Monday of the year, when half the people are still nursing hangovers, and saying hey, guess what? we hooked up!”

His expression hadn't changed, despite your pretty honest explanation.

"You don't like the idea," you stated, rather than asking. You made sure your voice sounded gentle, adjusting it to the situation. "I can see that, Spencer."

"Okay, you're right, I don't like it," he admitted with a sudden coolness, his lips tightening slightly between sentences. "Because...I don't get your reasoning. Or, maybe I just don’t know if this is really what you mean."

Slightly surprised, you shook your head.

"What else could I—"

"I don’t know if it's really about that, or maybe..." he cut off, looking into your eyes as if hoping you'd understand by now. But you didn't have the skill to read his mind, no matter how remarkable it was—it was also incredibly complex. "Or maybe...I don’t know, you just don’t take it seriously. That's why you don't want to tell anyone about it."

You gasped, finally understanding his behavior. Realizing the hidden concern.

"You’re worried I don't take us seriously?"

Spencer shrugged briefly.

"You know, if that's really the case, I'd rather know now..."

You leaned in to catch one of his hands, which had been clasped over his chest. You broke his defensive stance, pulling him toward you by his long fingers, simply holding it for a moment before speaking again. With a smile. A slightly amused smile.

"Of course, I take us seriously, you idiot," you snorted. A sense of relief washed over you. Earlier, he’d seemed genuinely worried, and you’d been expecting far worse things than the fact that your guy literally paled with anxiety over worrying you weren’t as invested in your fresh relationship as he was. Well, out of context, it sounded like a very serious concern. But the context was, you took it seriously, and you were incredibly happy he did too. "You know what? Maybe you're right. Why should we make idiots out of ourselves for the next week? Let’s just walk in like this."

You motioned toward your intertwined fingers, raising them as if they were a trophy earned through sweat and tears. Spencer followed their movement with his gaze, initially surprised, but then the corner of his mouth twitched, and he tilted his head with a quiet chuckle.

"We can do it your way," he said, taking control of your hands, clasping them with both of his. He looked relieved; your reassurance and the sincerity in your voice clearly calmed him. You smiled too, finally seeing that peace on his face. "I really don't mind waiting a few days. It might even be… interesting. One of us might not hold out and accidentally slip up."

You raised an eyebrow in a teasing manner.

"Another bet, Reid?" you clicked your tongue. You kept eye contact with him, feeling his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand. He seemed so unaffected, as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. "You already lost five bucks about…ten minutes ago. At this rate, you'll be broke within a month, and we'll have to skip that overpriced coffee downtown. Now that would be a real horror story, speaking as a citizen of the first world."

"Didn't say anything about another bet!”

"Too late," you shot back, turning his hand and taking it in a more formal handshake. "Handshakes sealed the deal."

He rolled his eyes, but a half-smile lingered on his face. He still hadn’t let go of your hand.

"I think we should get going," he said reluctantly.

You sighed with the same enthusiasm. You really felt stuck to that seat, right next to him.

"You know, being late on the first day of the new year should be fully justified..."

"We really need to go."

He was right. But before either of you could move to get out of the car, he leaned forward. Gently cupping your cheek, he drew you in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his touch, and for a brief moment, the world outside seemed to vanish—just the two of you, in that quiet, perfect stillness.

His face suddenly turned to the side, noticing something through the windshield. You frowned and looked in the same direction.

"That's Gideon," you remarked out loud, even though both of you had already spotted the silhouette of your coworker stepping out of a car that had just parked a short distance ahead. He wasn’t looking your way yet, but he could at any moment. "Quick, hide!"

Okay, you were completely honest with yourself. It wasn’t about being afraid of getting caught. After all, there was nothing strange about two coworkers arriving at work together in the same car—it was even very eco-friendly. You just liked the idea of shoving Reid under the seat. And the poor thing, so thrown off by the mock authority in your voice and the situation itself, did it without a second thought.

When Gideon finally noticed you, you cheerfully waved at him.

"Fuck," you muttered suddenly.

"What is it?" Spencer returned to his seat, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "Do you think he saw me?"

You shook your head.

"I just realized…this is your car."

*

"Okay, draw a straw."

"Morgan, how old are you?" You shook your head in disbelief, staring at the man standing across from you in the motel lobby. The place where you were spending the night this time was very tidy, with subdued colors, but, as tradition demanded, there had to be some sort of problem. You had one room for two, but one of them only had a double bed. So, you had to decide which two lucky people would share it. "Five?"

"And a half. Listen, we have to decide somehow. Let fate do it. The two who pull the shortest will sleep together. Simple as that."

Before you could say anything else, Garcia approached, weighed down by her bags. Yes, her—rarely did any case require her to be on-site, but it wasn’t completely unheard of.

"Oh, come on, Sweetie," she muttered to you, setting her luggage down and hunching slightly to catch her breath. "Let him feel like a kid again for a moment. He doesn’t get the chance often."

You sighed in resignation, but before you could pull one of the purple straws (how did he even get them?) that Morgan was holding in such a way that their lengths were hidden, you glanced around briefly. Sometimes you arrived at hotels at different times, some getting there faster, others later. Spencer and JJ had just walked in, both wearing coats to shield them from the cold January air. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him and his fogged-up glasses, which he quietly cursed under his breath—judging by the movement of his lips. However, you quickly composed yourself, returning to a neutral expression. It had only been two days since your agreement to keep the details of your relationship hidden, and so far, neither of you had slipped or forgotten to keep quiet around the others. Well, out of the two of you, you were probably struggling with it more—being a bit of a clinger, sometimes even your body would naturally gravitate towards his when standing next to him.

“Why are you standing here?” Spencer asked, approaching you. “Is there a problem with the rooms?”

“Is there ever not a problem with the rooms?” you responded, laughing. “Some poor souls are going to have to share a bed,” you explained, making brief eye contact with him. You were sure only he could catch the emphasis you placed on poor souls.

Of course, you wouldn't mind ending up in the same room. It wasn't about the fact that you were together—before, you’d shared rooms and even beds, and you were used to it by now. You would've probably offered it yourself, if it weren’t for the potential suspicion and that silly bet, which was starting to lose its point in your eyes. Maybe you should’ve just told them a few days ago?

“Oh,” he said shortly, crossing his arms with a bit of stiffness. His brown bag hung from his shoulder. He held your gaze for a moment, but his expression wasn’t as amused as yours. His brows furrowed slightly as he cleared his throat. “Poor them. Who’s it going to be?”

You slightly puffed out your lips slightly, watching him with a sharp look. What was it that made him so uneasy—the fact that you might not be in the same room this time?

“We were just about to decide,” Penelope replied, glancing at her friend with a teasing smile. “Morgan’s going to show us a game he learned today in kindergarten."

 JJ couldn't help but snort.

 “Just draw a straw…!”

You couldn’t recall another moment when all of you, every single one, rolled your eyes in perfect unison. But that’s exactly what happened when Derek once again enthusiastically explained the rules, as though they weren’t already ridiculously simple. In the end, each of you reached for one of the straws he was holding.

JJ went first. She pulled hers quickly, and it was of regular length, so it was immediately clear she wasn’t one of the poor souls. She raised her hand in a mock display of triumph, earning a few amused chuckles from the group.

Your turn came next. You approached the task with a certain gravity, as though the fate of the night depended entirely on the straw you chose. You studied each one carefully, as if their lengths could somehow be deciphered from the way they were arranged.

You wouldn’t have minded drawing the shortest straw. But only on one condition. 

Morgan looked at you with mock sympathy. Your straw wasn’t even half as long as JJ’s, which seemed to settle things. Now, it was just a matter of figuring out which of the remaining two—Reid or Garcia—would end up joining you.

Spencer reached out with a calculated, deliberate motion, his eyes immediately darting to yours when his straw turned out to be...one of the longer ones.

You shot him a look of bitter disappointment before your gaze shifted to your soon-to-be roommate. Penelope didn’t seem disheartened—on the contrary, an enthusiastic smile lit up her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but you caught the fleeting shift in her expression and the subtle flicker of her eyes.

“Oh no,” she suddenly gasped, her voice filled with exaggerated horror, even though she’d just seemed perfectly content, or at least not displeased, at the idea of sharing a room with you. “No, absolutely not. There’s no way I’m sleeping in the same room with her. Do you guys even know how loud she snores?”

Lies! You wanted to yell, but stopped yourself as realization dawned. Garcia was a good actress—you had to give her that—but her flair for dramatics always bordered on overkill, making it far too easy to catch her in a lie.

“I’m not used to traveling as often as you guys are,” Penelope continued in the same over-the-top tone. “I barely get a wink of sleep in a new place when it’s quiet, let alone with someone next to me snoring like a steam engine…”

“Love you too, Pen,” you muttered dryly.

“Someone has to switch with me, please,” she concluded, clasping her fingers together in a dramatic plea and pulling off the best puppy-dog eyes you’d seen in a long time. Well, at least since the time Reid had tried to coax you into reciting one of your old, cringe-worthy high school poems—the existence of which you’d only ever confessed to him.

“JJ?” Penelope turned her hopeful gaze toward her.

“Not a chance. My straw was the longest,” JJ replied, smug and immovable.

“Don’t even think about asking me,” Morgan chimed in before anyone could so much as glance in his direction.

And so, all eyes inevitably fell on Reid.

He awkwardly scratched the back of his ear, not looking directly at you.

“Well, I always carry earplugs with me…”

“Then it’s settled!” Garcia declared, hoisting her luggage with sudden determination. One of her heavy bags was thrust into Morgan’s arms so abruptly that he staggered backward under its weight. “Sweet dreams, everyone! Don’t let the bedbugs bite, and may the sheep you count tonight be extra fluffy and adorable. Goodnight!”

Just before she fully turned to leave, she sent you a quick, knowing wink.

You shook your head in disbelief, but the faintest smile danced on your lips. You didn’t even bother questioning how she knew. Only one conclusion circled your mind. Penelope could be really impossible. Thankfully, being impossible didn’t disqualify her from also being the best friend under this vast, sprawling sky. Period.

*

"What do you think about starting a tier list for all the hotels we stay in?” you remarked as both of you crossed the threshold of the room. Your eyes immediately landed on its unexpected feature. “Or at least the weirdest ones. Like the one with walls the color of cat pee where the power went out in the middle of the night. That one’s definitely at the top..."

"I don’t really get the point of a mirror on the ceiling," Reid said after a pause, looking over his shoulder at you. He was standing a few steps away, near the bed in the glaring white room with birchwood floors. "Who wants to look at themselves while trying to fall asleep?”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was joking or not. He raised an eyebrow too, not understanding why you did that. Okay, he wasn’t joking.

"You know, the main point isn’t really to look at yourself while falling asleep," you explained, with a bit of amused pity. Your gaze also briefly lingered on the glass surface above the bed, designed to reflect the bodies of people lying in bed. You thought it was a surprising addition but weren’t planning on spending too much time on it for now. You just wanted to get your shoes off—shoes you’d been wearing since sunrise—and finally lie down on something soft. "By the way, I’m taking a shower first."

Spencer only muttered something under his breath in response. Before disappearing behind the bathroom door, you cast one last glance at him. He seemed quiet—strangely quiet. Not that you were expecting his usual chatter after a long day of work; it could weigh on anyone and leave them feeling subdued. Maybe he just needed an extra moment to unwind, and that’s where his restraint came from.

Anyway, you took a quick shower. The pressure of the hot water nearly scalded your skin, which meant you’d be spared the bitter complaints, grumbling, and dramatic resignation threats from Morgan the next day. You felt too tired to linger under the stream for long. After a few minutes, you stepped out of the shower, changed into your sleepwear, and gathered the clothes you’d worn all day from the floor.

You and Spencer passed each other in the doorway without a word.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you frowned. The bathroom door shut behind him, and some concerned question froze on your lips. For a moment, you stood still, debating whether you should ask it. But then the sound of running water reached your ears, and you figured he probably wouldn’t hear you anyway.

Instead, you decided to climb into bed, wait for him, and ask about it then. Whatever it was clearly weighed on him, and the fact that something was bothering him bothered you. Funny how that worked, right?

You spent that moment lying on your back, eyes wide open, afraid you might accidentally fall asleep if you closed them. A comfortable bed during a case—it felt like pure luxury. You were waiting for Spencer to finally emerge from the bathroom so you could curl up next to him, fall asleep to the fresh post-shower scent of him, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

Just like you had spent half the day after the New Year’s party at your place—wrapped around each other, arguing over who would get up to make coffee and whether you should start cleaning up the mess from the night before.

You tucked your arm beneath your head, gazing at your fully-covered form reflected in the ceiling mirror.

“Did you find a portal to another galaxy in there or what?” you finally called out, impatient. He’d been in there way too long. And coming from you—a known lover of long, indulgent baths—that was saying something.

“Sorry,” he murmured as he finally emerged from the bathroom, wearing a gray t-shirt instead of his usual neat work attire and tie perfectly knotted at his neck. He still had his glasses on, which he might’ve forgotten to remove, judging by the way he slid into bed to your left without taking them off.

You watched him closely, rubbing at your tired eye. The shower had managed to wash away about half of the tension from Spencer’s face, but the other half stubbornly remained.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he said softly.

“I didn’t have to,” you admitted simply, watching as he carefully adjusted himself, finding the right position. The lamp on his side of the bed cast a warm glow over his skin. You were both half-sitting, you comfortably propped up against the soft pillows, and him barely leaning back against them. “But I wanted to. We really lucked out with this room, huh? Penelope is one of a kind.”

"Did you tell her about us?"

"I didn’t say a word. She's just more observant than the rest”

He nodded, agreeing with you. You thought he might say something else about it, maybe make a joke about the bet, but he didn’t. You yawned.

"You seem tired.”

“How did you figure that out, Sherlock?” you asked, your sarcasm light, without a hint of malice. “You too, by the way. Although, it’s not just that you seem tired—you are tired, at first glance. Or maybe something’s bothering you. Or maybe both. Am I right?”

He shrugged slowly.

“No, as far as I know.”

“Oh, come on,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. You pulled your knees closer to your chest, shifting into a full sitting position with slightly bent legs. You leaned forward just enough to gently take his glasses off and fold them, your fingers brushing briefly against his cheek. He didn’t look at what you were doing, his gaze fixed on your face under the soft fall of his lashes. The wonderful color of his eyes, the slight hesitation in your movements as you moved a little closer to kiss him—a fleeting, tender press of lips.

“Something’s going on, and you can tell me about it.”

“Or we could just go to sleep,” he suggested quietly. “It’s been a long day. You must be tired, I mean, you yawned a little while ago.”

You tilted your head, studying him thoughtfully. Was he really trying this hard to dodge the topic? How could you get him to open up?

“I know blackmail isn’t exactly healthy for relationships,” you started finally, turning his glasses over in your hands, “but I’m not giving these back until you tell me.”

Both corners of his mouth twitched at once.

“Oh no, what am I going to do now?” he replied with feigned concern, gently shaking his head. Then he lowered his voice.  “This is exactly what I’d say if I didn’t also have contacts with me.”

"Sometimes I just want to…ugh."

"Violence isn't too healthy for relationships either."

"Just like not opening up. Remember what we talked about a few days ago in the car? You were worried I don't take you seriously. How else am I supposed to prove I'm serious if I don’t ask what’s wrong when I can tell something’s off?"

Your explanation sounded a bit jumbled, but he had to get the general idea. The reference to that specific conversation and his own words seemed to hit a sensitive spot.

"I didn’t want you to feel like you have to prove anything to me," he quickly corrected, swallowing hard. His chest fell, and the sigh felt like surrender. "I'm sorry. I just don't want you to worry about it. It's nothing serious. I’m just tired...and a little stressed."

"Stressed?" you repeated, surprised. "You're stressed? But about what?"

He hesitated for a moment.

"Just... about this," he said vaguely, his gaze shifting from you to your reflection in the glass ceiling. "Us, I mean."

"What do you mean?" you asked quietly, still confused, gently shaking your head. "We've shared rooms before, so if it’s about that, I really don’t get it."

"Yeah, but never like this. In a room with a king-sized bed and a huge mirror right above us," he explained, his voice tinged with embarrassment, clearly wishing he could just stop talking. "Okay, I know this sounds dumb, I know it does, but I don’t know why it’s messing with my head like this. I just...I kinda thought maybe you'd want to..."

"Spencer," you interrupted, saving him from going any further. You saw a flicker of relief in his eyes. You weren’t sure what emotion was bubbling up inside you now—whether it was still confusion or just pure amusement. "You were worried I’d want to have sex with you?” 

You didn’t even need to wait for his answer to know you’d hit the nail on the head. Considering how your relationship had grown out of friendship, slowly evolving over time and shared experiences instead of a sudden burst of passion, you weren’t surprised you hadn’t yet taken that step together. It was something special in its own way—there had never been any pressure, and you hadn’t expected that he might feel the exact opposite.

So when you finally figured out what had been bothering him all this time, you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine.

"You were right, you know. It does sound kind of dumb," you said, unable to keep the smile from your face. His expression remained unreadable, his posture betraying a hint of anticipation as he waited for the rest of your reaction. "But also…I don’t know, kind of adorable? But seriously, Spencer, we don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready."

"It’s not that I don’t want to at all," he clarified quickly, almost too firmly. "I mean...it’d be our first time. Together. That’s what I mean. And I guess I just didn’t expect it to...happen tonight, here, of all places."

"I didn’t either," you admitted truthfully, the smile still lingering on your face. Unlike him, you didn’t feel even a hint of embarrassment. "I figured we’d just go to sleep, especially since we both already admitted we’re exhausted."

"Fair point," he mumbled.

"Honestly, this has to be the biggest example of overthinking I’ve ever seen anyone put themselves through, Spencer," you teased lightly, shaking your head.

For a moment, he stayed silent, but it felt like he was letting out a breath he’d been holding.

“You’re gonna have to get used to that,” he admitted finally, his voice soft. But then, you caught the faint glimmer of a smile tugging at his lips.

He even started to laugh, a quiet chuckle filled with a sort of amused self-awareness. Meanwhile, you leaned out of the bed to place his glasses on the nightstand on your side. If he wanted them in the morning, he’d have no choice but to reach right over you.

“But just for the record,” he began after a moment, as you reached for the edge of the blanket that had slipped off you earlier, pulling it back up to wrap around yourself. Your head was only inches from the pillow now. You gave him a questioning nod. He, too, was getting ready to lie down, finally looking genuinely relaxed. “How pathetic do you think that was, on a scale from one to ten?”

You just rolled your eyes, not even dignifying the question with an answer.

“In the interest of science,” he pressed, “one to ten?”

“Pathetic enough that you’ll need to redeem yourself a little in my eyes,” you sighed dramatically. “Go on, I’m waiting for your ideas.”

“I think I might have a few,” he replied with a soft chuckle.

You prolonged the kiss, savoring the deep sense of comfort it brought you. The two of you lay face to face, and you gently brushed a few still-damp strands of hair from Spencer's forehead, though they stubbornly fell back into place. Eventually, you gave up with a soft sigh against his lips. Spencer kept his eyes closed, lost in a quiet bliss, even as you pulled back just slightly, leaving only an inch of space between you.

"Can I turn off the light now?" you asked, as always. The question had become a tradition since you'd learned about his complicated relationship with darkness.

He hummed in agreement, nodding faintly. Leaning over him, you reached for the bedside lamp on his side. The room was instantly bathed in darkness, your reflections in the mirror above fading into obscurity.

You didn’t fully return to your original spot. Instead, you shifted closer, resting your head comfortably against his chest. The hotel pillows were unbelievably plush, you had to admit, but that night, you chose this over anything else.

"You’re not asleep," he noted gently after about fifteen minutes. He cleared his throat. "During sleep, a person’s breathing becomes slower and more regular. You know, if you’re uncomfortable here, you don’t have to…"

"I’m listening to your heartbeat," it slipped out of you. Though it was true, you hadn’t planned on admitting it out loud. "Nothing sinister, just to be clear. I’m not planning to rip it out of your chest or anything like that. It just works for me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Like those videos that imitate the sound of a crackling fireplace. Pretty calming."

"My heartbeat reminds you of the sound of a fireplace?" he said, a glint of confusion in his softly hoarse voice.

You sighed, in the darkness, he couldn’t see the faint smile painting itself on your face, pressed against his chest.

"Sweet dreams, silly."

tag list: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch @trulymadlydarling @cynbx @penelopegarciaismygf @awordsmith

[girlatmirror]

does he know? jjk

‘she told you she’s celibate, she told me i could nail her shit’. in which your ex comes back to town, but you are in a new relationship.

ex bf! jungkook x reader

warnings: (kinda??) cheating, there’s some angsty themes (but not rlly idk), mentions of alcohol consumption, yn is a little mean sometimes (but she’s so real), yn is the president of #ihatemybf nation, unprotected, penetrative sex (be safe), ass eating (yup, jk is a munch thru n thru), idk what else

___

Jungkook and your brother, Zane, were always attached at the hip as you grew up in the same neighborhood. Your house was across from the Jeons' house, and ever since you could remember, you had a crush on Jungkook. Jungkook, the boy who stole your heart the moment he came over to play soccer with your brother and accidentally kicked the ball against your head at the tender age of 10, then apologized with a warm hug. You were eight when that happened, but you knew everything. You knew you wanted to marry that boy, and you knew what you felt was real. What you did not know was that the same boy would steal your heart years later and take it with him to Singapore, leaving you stranded.

Your love story started when you began attending college, the same one that Jungkook attended; surprisingly, it wasn’t the same as Zane’s. To Jungkook, that meant he could make a move on you without the awkwardness of your brother and your parents around. After years of waiting for the right time, Jungkook took the chance when Zane told him you were unsure about where to apply to major in psychology. Of course, he recommended that you apply to his school, which, thankfully, had an amazing psychology program. You took his advice and started attending the same university.

Jungkook became your bodyguard, even though he was a computer science major in his junior year, guiding you everywhere and protecting you from any harm, basically never leaving your side. At first, he claimed it was an oath to protect his buddy’s little sister, but at one point, he finally gathered the courage to profess his love for you and asked you out; of course, you agreed, and that’s where your love story began. That’s where a year filled with love, princess treatment, and pampering started. Your relationship remained strong even after he graduated; you continued going on dates, making time for each other daily, and being completely and utterly in love.

Until he received an offer to become a CFO of a large Microsoft company in Singapore, he accepted the offer despite your objections.

___

(a year and a half ago)

“Jungkook, baby, I’m here!” you shouted as you entered his upscale apartment with your spare key, which he had given you the moment he bought the apartment. “Sorry, I’m a little early; I was bored and by myself.”

Jungkook was taking a shower, smiling as his heart warmed at the sound of your voice. “That’s okay, baby. Come join me.”

“No, I already showered before I came here, but you enjoy!” you exclaimed with a giggle, looking for something to occupy yourself until he got out of the shower.

His bedroom was spacious and very neat; Jungkook was a clean person, a quality you cherished about him a lot.

You were bored, trying to find something to entertain yourself with until he got out of the shower when you found something that made your heart race.

On the nightstand, under a book he was currently reading, were two plane tickets. You quickly grabbed one and thoroughly read what was written on it.

* Name: Jungkook Jeon

* Date of Flight: January 15, 2021

* Flight Number: SQ 25

* Airline: Singapore Airlines

* Departure:

* Airport: John F. Kennedy International Airport (JFK), New York, USA

* Time: 10:00 AM (EST)

* Arrival:

* Airport: Singapore Changi Airport (SIN), Singapore

* Time: January 16, 2021, 5:00 PM (SGT)

Class: Business

January 15 was just three weeks away. Jungkook hadn’t said a word about his trip to you. He mentioned the business opportunity he received in Singapore once, but you quickly shut down any further talk about it, completely against the idea of him leaving. He hadn’t talked about it since.

Your heart stopped for a millisecond, shock taking over your body. With shaky hands, you quickly grabbed the other ticket; it was the same flight but for a different passenger.

Your name was written on it.

Just as you tried to compose yourself, you heard a click from the bathroom door; Jungkook had finished his shower. You quickly put the tickets back where you found them. He entered the bedroom with a big smile, a towel hugging his lower body, strong arms and defined abs on display.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he leaned over your frozen body and planted a kiss on your lips before noticing the tenseness in your posture. “Hey…what’s wrong, my angel?”

“What’s wrong?” You let out a humorless laugh. “What’s wrong??”

Jungkook stood in front of you, confused and nervous, still half-naked in just a towel.

You grabbed the tickets and faced him. The color drained from his face.

“Baby, I was gonna tell you about it,” he tried to explain, but your harsh expression didn’t soften.

“When? The day you’re supposed to leave?” you said sarcastically. “Oh wait, I’m sorry, the day we are supposed to leave?”

“Yn…” the voice you usually loved suddenly angered you.

“No! Just no! How could you do that?! I told you, I don’t want this!!” Angry tears started forming in your eyes. “You can’t just make a huge decision like this without telling me!”

“I know it wasn’t a good move, baby, but this is a huge opportunity for me; you have to understand,” he tried to touch your waist, but you pushed his hands away.

“You’re joking, right?” you exclaimed, your hand in your hair as you chaotically walked around with the plane tickets in your hand before stopping. “It’s not like I don’t understand; I do! But I don’t understand how you can just decide something so big for both of us and assume I’m going to go along with it!!”

The tension between you and him could be cut with a knife, your words throwing flames of anger at him.

“Yn, if you would just listen to me for a second,” Jungkook’s voice was steady, but there was a hint of desperation. “I want you to come with me; you can continue your studies there, and we’ll get married. We can come back for every holiday and every vacation I get; it’s gonna be good. We’ll be fine.”

“And you haven’t once stopped to think about what I want? If I want to leave everything behind and move with you to Singapore, only to come back on HOLIDAYS?? Jungkook, my family is here; damn it, your whole family is here. Did you not think this through?” you yelled at him, pushing your fingers against his chest. “And what’s wrong with your current job? It pays well; it’s here! There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I just graduated from college last year! Do you know how often I could get an opportunity like this? Probably never, and let’s be honest, nobody’s getting any younger, so I’m going to take this job!” he exclaimed, but then his voice softened again. “I can provide for us with this position, Yn; I’m going to be a millionaire my first year. This is what I dreamed of ever since I started college: to get a good job and be set for life, not just for myself, but for my future wife as well, for you.”

“Well, I guess your future wife’s a very lucky woman then, but I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you took a deep breath, tears still brimming in your eyes. “It’s not going to be me.”

Jungkook got on his knees, his head touching your leg as he begged. “Don’t say that, Yn, please don’t.”

“I’m sorry; I just cannot do this. Not right now.” You left the bedroom hastily, Jungkook immediately following you, grabbing your arm. “Let me go, please.”

“No! I’m not going to let you go!” he snapped. “You can’t just give up on us this easily, Yn. We have one fight, and you’re ready to leave? What the fuck!?”

“I’m sorry; I don’t even think this is a fight! This is you disrespecting me, my freedom, my opinion, and stepping all over my life like it’s yours to control!” you argued, cheeks flushed from overwhelming anger. “I am not your property! You can’t just control things in my life like you’re in charge of it, okay?! I won’t go to Singapore with you. Goodbye.”

As you moved to the door, he stepped in front of you, his body towering over yours. “You didn’t even think about it, Yn. Singapore is a great place; if you transfer to a school there, you’ll still get a very good education. The quality of life is amazing; the house I bought for us is huge. You’ll have enough space for yourself, and there’s even a library, baby; you’ve always wanted a library in your house. I found you a school with an amazing psychology program near our house and my work; you don’t need to think about money at all; I’ll pay for everything. I’ll get you whatever you want, baby; just come with me.”

“Our house??” You asked in disbelief. “Did you just completely lose it? You didn’t ask me if I want to come with you, and you already bought me a ticket and a house?”

It was evident that Jungkook’s patience was wearing thin as he jabbed his cheek with his tongue. “I’m sorry that I want to move forward with our relationship, Yn. I thought we talked about this: we want to get married, get a house together… have kids. What’s suddenly so wrong with that?”

“You’re right; we did talk about these things, but for later and for here! After I graduate, not when you suddenly decide you’re ready, Jungkook,” you explained, your voice a little less harsh than before. “A relationship means working together as a team. It doesn’t mean you get to make life-altering decisions behind my back.”

“So, what does this mean now?” he inquired, his heart pumping with fear.

“I don’t know; I don’t know,” you fidgeted with your hair intensely, eyes shut, clearly unsure of how to proceed. “I just really don’t want to see you right now.”

And that was the last time you saw Jungkook. You didn’t attend the farewell party your brother threw for him, nor did you say goodbye on the day he left. You successfully fought all the urges to reply to his messages or call him back, which led to an empty feeling in your heart.

You were not ready to forgive him.

At one point, you unfollowed him on all social media, muted his number, and refused to look at the pictures and messages he sent you from Singapore; you simply couldn’t.

Deciding to focus solely on college, a little over a year after Jungkook left, you graduated with honors. During the time you learned to navigate life without the love of it, you also learned to be happy within it. You cut off any thread that led you back to the feelings you had for Jungkook.

Eventually, you started living without the aching emptiness in your heart again, yet there was always something missing. You always feared you knew what – or who – it was.

___

You didn’t really know how to describe your current state.

Now 23, you had graduated college, had a steady job, and were in a relationship that was going well. From the outside, it seemed your life was perfect; there was nothing more you could possibly wish for.

You were content with where you were, but there was always something missing. Something indescribable that you subconsciously searched for.

Work was your way of distracting yourself from feeling like that, avoiding confronting your feelings at all costs, which was ironic, considering you studied psychology.

You were working on a report on your day off when Eric, your boyfriend of eight months, called your phone. You couldn’t help but sigh, yet you picked up reluctantly. “Hey.”

“Hi, baby! How is my superstar doing today?” Eric’s cheery voice spoke. “I miss you, and I thought since it’s your day off, we could go get bagels and coffee. I’ll pick you right up!”

Bagels and coffee... you were sick of getting bagels and coffee with Eric. You couldn’t remember the last time he planned something new or exciting for you.

“I’m sorry, Eric, I can’t,” you said in a distant voice. “I’m working on a report, and I have to finish this one... but we could do this another time, right? I mean, there’s always bagels and coffee.”

Eric felt uneasy with the idea that you felt so comfortable not seeing him for weeks and not even checking up on him; he was always the one to call you. If it were up to you, he wouldn’t know where you were half the time.

“Everything okay, babe?” Eric asked. “You want me to come over, cook you something? Give you a massage? Help you with your research?”

‘No, god, no,’ a voice in your subconscious mind said.

“No, it’s fine,” you reassured him, still focusing on the MacBook in front of you instead of your boyfriend. “We’ll just see each other sometime this week, alright? I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

This conversation summed up your relationship with Eric.

He was a sweet, respectful guy who worshipped the ground you walked on, seemingly always a step ahead of you in the relationship. He was already talking about your future together while you were unsure of spending a full weekend with him alone.

It freaked you out. You had only been in one relationship before, but with Jungkook, everything seemed to fall into place: both completely and utterly in love with each other, (almost) always on the same page, never wanting to leave each other’s sides, no subconscious voices in your mind or feelings in your gut telling you something was wrong; just pure excitement and joy.

You told yourself it was you growing up, becoming a ‘real adult,’ but the more you told yourself that, the more you recognized it was a lie.

At least your relationship with Eric gave you one thing you were looking for: peace.

___

Jungkook was back in town after exactly one year and seven months.

It was a small town; people talked and gossiped about everything and everyone, but that’s not how you should have found out about it, given that your brother was the one who picked him up from the airport.

It irritated you that your brother thought you were too fragile to let you know that his best friend, your ex, was coming back to town.

He didn’t know exactly what happened between you and Jungkook; neither of you went into the details of your breakup. He only knew how much love there was between you and that you weren’t willing to talk about Jungkook or hear his name during the initial months after the breakup.

He assumed it was a bad one.

You decided to call him just to see if he would mention anything about Jungkook being back.

“Hey, sis, how’s it going?” your brother answered after a few rings.

“Hi, Zane,” you bit back any snappiness. “I’m doing well. Where are you?”

He hesitated for a few moments, then you heard his footsteps, obviously walking away from whatever scene he was in before. “Just out with some friends…”

You loved how much of a bad liar your brother was.

“Who?” your curiosity was palpable.

“Damn, why do you care so much?”

“I don’t know, Zane; maybe because I heard from some girls at the nail salon that you picked Jungkook up from the airport two days ago,” you said, dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighed into the phone, tsk’ing lightly. “I’m sorry, Yn; I just didn’t know how you were gonna react, you know?”

“Oh my god, I am not a baby! I can handle it,” you declared. “So what if Jungkook is back? What am I gonna do now? It literally changes nothing about my life. You could throw him a party and invite Bella Hadid for all I care.”

Truthfully, Jungkook being back in your orbit did mean something to you. Your first love was back where he belonged after long months without this place seeing him; it almost made you emotional to imagine him back in his childhood home, back in his first apartment after graduation, and back with your brother playing basketball in the yard and…

“Actually, I am,” your brother hesitantly revealed.

“You’re throwing him a party and inviting Bella Hadid??” You only realized how ridiculous that sentence sounded after it came out of your mouth.

“No, just throwing him a welcome back party,” he chuckled a little. “You can come if you want! But only if you want; like, don’t feel pressured to be there. If you don’t come, I’ll totally understand–”

“I’ll be there!” you interrupted your brother’s rambling, who was nervous because he knew what you turned into when you were mad. “And Eric will also be there.”

“Eric?” Confused, he asked, as if he didn’t remember where he heard that name before. “Oh, yeah, your new boyfriend. Yeah, sure, take him with you.”

Even though Zane truly felt it wasn’t a good idea for your current boyfriend and Jungkook to be in the same room, he was inclined to agree with you.

You were going to attend Jungkook’s welcome back party with Eric, and you were going to look absolutely beautiful.

---

After visiting every boutique in New York with your girlfriends to find the perfect dress for your brother’s party, you finally found it and called Eric last minute to inform him that he would be your plus one for this party.

The dress you picked out was a gorgeous red number with a flattering off-the-shoulder cut and delicate lace accents, striking the perfect balance between sexy and classy, accentuating your curvy silhouette; you aimed to impress.

Eric wasn’t aware that Jungkook was your ex; he only knew that the party was for your brother’s best friend who had returned from overseas. He didn’t care whose party it was; he just thanked God that you finally called him and let him see you.

Your girlfriends knew you were indulging in self-destructive behavior by going to a party solely for your ex-boyfriend after not seeing him for almost two years, but they also knew nothing they would say could stop you, and they seemed to think you deserved closure. All of them suspected that you were still hung up on Jungkook, but none dared to speak of it until you decided to, which you hadn’t.

As you arrived at the bar your brother rented, hand in hand with Eric, his friend Marcus was the first to greet you with a big grin, evidently already too drunk for his own good.

“Hey, Marcus, you know where Zane is?” you asked, only to receive a drunkenly slurred ‘nah, but probably in the back somewhere’ as an answer.

While you walked into the place, you couldn’t help but silently praise your brother’s dedication; the venue looked good, nicely decorated with a huge sign that said ‘Welcome Back, Jungkook’ on it.

The crowd was enormous, making you almost trip in your high heels, but thankfully, you caught yourself on Eric’s arm.

“This will be the first time I meet your brother. I can’t wait!” Somehow through the loud noise, Eric still managed to be audible. “It’s about time, you know? I mean, you’ve met my entire family; I was wondering when I’d get to meet yours.”

“Yeah,” you sent a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes his way and walked forward, until you finally saw a glimpse of Zane, seemingly engaged in an animated conversation. “He’s there!”

With gathered confidence, you gripped Eric’s hand and walked over to Zane; even though your eyes didn’t see him yet, you knew that if Zane was there, Jungkook couldn’t be far.

“Zane!” you called out to grab his attention, but the music was too loud and he was too engaged in the conversation to hear you, so you approached him closer, gripping Eric’s hand like your life depended on it.

When Zane finally saw you, he waved at you, excitedly signaling you to come closer, so you did. But there was no sign of Jungkook yet.

“Yn!!” he shouted, having indulged in some drinks himself. “Hey! Come here; let me get you a drink.”

He didn’t even spare Eric a glance before turning around, but thankfully, you gave him a subtle nod in Eric’s direction, which he immediately picked up. “Hey, man, I’m Zane, Yn’s brother. You must be Eric. How’re you doing?”

Zane gave him a friendly smile and offered him a hand, which Eric immediately shook. He was giddy to say the least, just as he opened his mouth, a deep voice from behind you interrupted him before he could speak. “Ey, Zane, there’s no fucking pizza left! It’s my damn party, and I didn’t even get a piece of pizza!”

Jungkook’s playful voice halted you for an instant. Your back was still turned to him, but as he approached the three of you, he slowly recognized who stood in front of him.

Now, he stood next to your brother, paralyzed for a second before he let his eyes wander down your face, then your entire body; a shimmer of desire and longing that could not be overlooked formed. He studied your familiar body, every curve that was once only his to touch, to explore, and the eyes that looked back at him with an innocence he could not resist.

His attention flickered to Eric for a second before fully turning to you again, with darkened eyes and flared nostrils; you were sure from his expression that Zane told him you were in a relationship now.

Your eyes wandered just the same, spotting new tattoos and much bigger biceps; he looked disgustingly handsome. He was bigger, and his presence seemed even more powerful than before he left. His hair had grown a few inches, but what always stayed the same were his eyes that never stopped looking at you the same way.

There was an awkward silence that even Eric detected before Jungkook spoke up. “Yn… it’s good to see you. You look beautiful, of course.”

There was something deep about the way he said those simple words; it was evident there was a lot more behind them.

And there was so much you wanted to say too, but all you could muster was, “It’s nice to see you too.”

You felt Eric’s and Zane’s gazes swinging from you to Jungkook while you two were lost in each other’s eyes; Eric was confused, trying to figure out what was going on, while Zane was amused yet cautious of what would happen if he left you two to it, with your boyfriend by your side.

“So, I think we should all get something to drink,” Zane was the one to break the silence before patting Jungkook on the shoulder. “C’mon, man; I’ll get you that pizza.”

They moved along, leaving you and Eric alone for a moment.

“So, do you know that Jungkook guy?” Eric carefully asked, not wanting to push you.

“He’s my brother’s best friend; of course I know him,” you answered a little snappily. “And he used to be our neighbor.”

Eric simply nodded, his grip on your shoulder tightening a bit before you slipped out of it, saying, “I’m gonna get a drink too.”

But you actually left to catch a breath of fresh air on the balcony. You felt someone following you, but convinced yourself it was paranoia until you felt the warmth of a larger body lurking behind you. You turned around and saw Jungkook looking at you with an indescribable expression.

“Please tell me that’s your new gay best friend,” he started, now standing next to you, hands on the balcony railing.

“What?” You turned your face to look at him, a sigh escaping your lips.

You were pretending that his presence didn’t affect you, pretending that you were even slightly annoyed he followed you, but you knew you wanted him to and you were glad he did.

“The guy you came with,” he clarified, a waiting gleam in his eyes.

You knew he knew that Eric was your boyfriend; he was just acting oblivious to get you to feel bad and to start a conversation about how Eric wasn’t ‘the right one for you.’ He might have been gone for over a year, but you knew Jungkook. He was predictable to you.

“No... he’s my boyfriend,” you clarified with a huff. “And what’s it to you anyway?”

He put his hand up in defense, a small smirk forming on his pretty face. “Nothing, nothing... just didn’t think he was your type is all.”

Despite not having figured out your feelings for Eric, Jungkook’s words pushed you to defend him.

“What do you mean ‘not my type’? Eric is a sweet guy, the sweetest actually, and any girl would be lucky to be with him,” you asserted, your heart racing. “He is gentle and a good communicator, and he loves me. And he would never do anything behind my back.”

Jungkook’s nostrils slightly flared as you talked about another man; he had always been the possessive one. He noticed how your stance wasn’t firm and the knitted expression on your eyebrows; a sign of uncertainty on your face he knew too well. “He loves you, huh? No doubt about it... do you love him though?”

Your breath hitched, and you felt faint for a second, not knowing how to compose yourself; you didn’t love him, no matter how much you tried. You always found yourself longing for something else... someone else. You didn’t know what to say, so you replied, “He treats me right.”

“I’d hope so...” he started, with an indescribable expression. “At least one person in that ‘relationship’ has to treat you right.”

You knew exactly what he was trying to do: making you overthink your relationship to come to the conclusion you two belonged together. But your half-healed heart refused to bring you to that place.

“What are you trying to accomplish, Jungkook?” you asked, saying his name as if it were venomous. “You left for Singapore almost two years ago; what was I supposed to do? Wait around for you until you remembered you had people who wanted to see you here? People who missed you?”

Now, he wore a spiteful expression, jabbing his cheek with his tongue. “No, you should have picked up my calls, answered my messages, let me know how you were doing. You should have at least let Zane let me know. You blocked me out of your life entirely; we are – we were in love, Yn. That doesn’t just go away overnight.”

You scoffed sarcastically to mask the pressure in your heart, affected by his words. “You think it was easy for me to do that? Guess what, Jungkook! It took a lot longer than ‘overnight’ for me to get over you, and if I had answered your calls and messages, maybe I still wouldn’t be over you!”

At that point, the loud party was a soft background noise for the two of you; you were too indulged in the rising tensions - your raising voices the only thing consuming you. Even during fights, there seemed to be no one else around you - for you.

“I wanted you to come with me! I got you a ticket, remember? The house is designed exactly how you envisioned your dream house,” he started, pain evident in his voice. “Yet, I have to live in it alone while everything reminds me of you.”

Your heart was breaking all over again, the sorrowful reflection in his gaze influencing you more than you wished. Yet, there was a rational part of you that recognized you had to stand your ground, defend yourself. You had good reasons to do what you did.

“Maybe you should have told me that before you bought a ticket for me without consulting me first!” you ranted, reminiscing the shock you felt at finding the tickets. “Or maybe you shouldn’t have taken the job offer and just stayed here like I wanted you to!!”

Jungkook had envisioned multiple scenarios about what would happen when you would see each other again. He thought about it all the time, while he was working, during sleepless nights without you by his side, while showering, working out, or fucking women that meant nothing to him... he knew exactly what you were going to say, if you would be willing to talk to him. And you were, and that made him feel happy despite the arguing because at least you were willing to argue with him, to talk to him.

He knew you, maybe more than anybody else did. He was convinced that the love between you two transcended any boundaries or obstacles.

“I know,” he admitted defeat, his voice velvety. “And I’m so fucking sorry, but please, baby, just give us another chance. I’m staying here for six months straight, and the offer to come with me after still stands.”

You felt conflicted; on one hand, you could not believe his audacity, and on the other, you were satisfied to know that he still wanted you, just like the last time he saw you.

“You can’t be serious!” you snapped. “I’m with Eric, and you can’t just come here and pretend like nothing ever happened.”

Jungkook felt your patience spreading thin and decided to go against his usual instincts to persuade you further. “Alright, I’m sorry. I just need to know one thing.”

“What?”

“Is he fucking you good?” he inquired, a possessive gleam in his eyes.

The question hung in the air like an unanswered prayer for a moment. You stood frozen before him as if you weren’t expecting him to ask that, as if you weren’t sure how to answer it.

And you truly didn’t.

“I don’t know,” came out in a whisper.

The truth was, you hadn’t let Eric that far yet, and you weren’t planning to do it anytime soon. He had an inability to make you wet, and whenever he went any further than touching your waist, you felt a slight sensation of disgust, like you would rather be fighting in a war than let Eric be inside you. You opted for telling him you were celibate, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jungkook was confused, trying to decipher what you were trying to say.

“It means,” you started, slowly regaining your snappiness, “that I don’t know! I’ve never had sex with him.”

It was now Jungkook’s turn to say ‘what?!’ and it suddenly made you very aware that there were crowds of people just inside, Eric being one of them. You were lucky there were so many people blocking the view into the balcony, because if there weren’t, Eric would have found you a long time ago.

Jungkook was evidently happy with the revelation, smiling like an idiot.

“Stop smiling like that!” you hissed, motioning with your hands. “I’m just not ready yet. I told him I’m celibate. It’s none of your business anyway; why am I telling you any of this?”

Jungkook obeyed your wishes and stopped smiling; instead, he burst out laughing, so amused. “So you’ve been dating for eight months, and you still haven’t fucked? Damn, ma... we did it after the first date... and every day after.”

Before you could answer, your brother entered the balcony. When he saw you and Jungkook face to face, deep in a conversation or rather an argument, he gazed between you with an indescribable expression.

“Yn, Eric’s been looking for you everywhere,” Zane informed you with what you called ‘warning eyes’ digging holes into your face as you went back inside, leaving the two best friends alone.

___

The two weeks following the party were filled with work, for you and Jungkook alike. You didn’t run into each other again, but you did decide to unblock him.

You thought it was petty and unnecessary to deny him access to you when you would surely see him during his six-month stay here. You also wanted to see if he would notice and maybe hit you up occasionally; which he did.

Good morning texts and daily ‘how are you’s?’ filled you with an unspoken joy that you felt shouldn’t have been there, but you defended yourself by thinking, ‘I cannot control my feelings.’

Your conversation on the balcony made you think a lot through, specifically your relationship with Eric. You decided it was time to open up to him, giving him a chance to take you out properly, which he had been trying to do for a while.

So, you were getting ready for a romantic night out with Eric, putting on a gorgeous, tiny black dress that accentuated your curves and applying makeup that made you resemble an effortless beauty.

You planned to be honest with him about where you thought the relationship was headed.

---

You met up with Eric at a nice Italian restaurant in the middle of the city.

After a little small talk and finishing your meal, you sat in an awkward silence as he admired you.

You could feel something unusual but brushed it off as your usual paranoia. Eric was always a jolly person who wasn’t afraid to show his love in sometimes very overbearing ways.

“You know, Yn,” he started and suddenly got on one knee. His loving gaze spread pity over your conscience, his position weighing heavily on your chest. “I’ve never felt this way about anybody; you are bright like the stars and beautiful like a flower. I find you in everything around me. You consume my soul, Yn. I... I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

He took out a red box and opened it, revealing a small diamond ring. Eric waited a moment for your answer, but you sat frozen; it was too much. With the people around you watching, and Eric’s slowly saddened eyes gauging your reaction, you did not know what to do.

You questioned Eric’s self-awareness more than anything; when had you ever given him the impression that you wanted to marry him? You were sure you had never even given him a reason to think you wanted to be in a relationship with him!

You knew Eric’s lack of self-awareness would present a problem sooner or later, but you just wished it wasn’t in such a public setting, in front of at least twenty people.

Your breath quickened, and your heart tightened. You couldn’t do this anymore.

So, you grabbed your purse, stood up, and left with a hurried, “I’m sorry; I can’t do this,” leaving Eric with a humiliating crowd and a broken heart.

It felt like the right thing to do.

- - -

Once you ran to your car without looking back, you drove away from the scene.

You were so lost in thought that your subconscious acted; you set off in a direction you had not intended to go. You drove in the exact direction of Jungkook's apartment, as if it hadn’t been two years since you were last there, as if you were returning from work and it was your house.

As if your heart, and not your head, had guided you. If you had been thinking clearly at that moment, you would have given yourself a slap and reminded yourself who you were.

But you didn't, because as your grandma used to say, “Love makes a person lose their mind.”

You parked your car next to his luxury car. He still lived in the same apartment where you last fought, where you had countless sleepovers, where you lost your virginity, where you shared secrets, and made love in every corner.

You cursed and loved that apartment at the same time.

With a fog-clouded mind, you entered the complex and took the elevator to the fourth floor. Finally, you knocked on his door, '4B,' a few times before a confused Jungkook opened it.

He stood there in all of his glory, wearing grey sweatpants and an oversized black shirt, looking back at you with a questioning yet yearning gaze. “Yn?”

His voice immediately sent shivers down your spine, and you wanted to live in the eyes that devoured your lightly clothed body. “Can I come in?”

Your voice was smaller and weaker than it had ever been; he could tell there was something wrong but did not ask right away. He simply stepped aside and said, “Of course. Always.”

His eyes ran over the prominent curve of your breasts and your naked legs, begging to be wrapped around his head.

Before he had the chance to ask what was wrong, you threw yourself into his arms and whispered a desperate, “Can you just hold me?” into his ears.

He simply kissed your forehead and carried you to the couch.

You wrapped your exposed thick thighs around his waist and your arms draped around his neck, his hands resting on your hips, holding you as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You hadn’t felt so safe since he left.

The realization that Jungkook was your safe space suddenly hit you, making you hide your face further in his neck.

He sat on the huge sofa, which led you to sit on his lap, your face still hidden in the hollow of his neck.

His large hand moved from your back to your hip, and you would have loved nothing more than to let yourself melt into his body. You had searched so long for that feeling – the feeling of being back in the arms of the only man you could love.

“What happened?” he asked solicitously, his voice rushing softly in your ears.

You refused to say anything for a few moments, totally unsure of how to explain your situation to him, or if you even wanted to.

Slowly coming out of your hiding place, you looked deep into his eyes; your eyes held a melancholy he noticed immediately. He stroked your goosebump-filled arms and brought his forehead close to yours. The atmosphere was just loving and peaceful.

“Eric proposed to me…” you sighed softly, fingers tangled in his soft black hair.

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?? Did you...” He coughed a bit before continuing, “Did you say yes?”

You sighed even louder. Even though you did not want to discuss it, you knew you had to eventually.

“No,” you answered, trying to maintain eye contact. “I just ran away and drove here.”

It was obvious Jungkook was trying hard to suppress a smile, so he simply wrapped his arms around you comfortingly and gently rocked you back and forth without saying a word.

You were hyper-aware of the fact that the only thing separating your wet pussy from leaving marks on his sweatpants were your thin, almost see-through panties.

You stayed in that position for a while, before leaning in and starting to place wet kisses on his neck, your fingers tightening around his hair.

His breath grew heavier as he held onto the thick flesh of your bare ass, unsure whether to let you go further or stop you.

“Yn...” his tone was uncertain yet aroused. “We really shouldn’t…”

You continued the trail of desperate kisses, unable to resist, with his familiar scent and the feel of his skin against your lips.

You already felt his dick hardening in his boxers as you gently caressed it with your hands, making him groan at the friction.

“Why not?” you asked with a pout, before palming his dick harder while grinding on his thigh. “Don’t you want to fuck me? Do I not make you hard anymore?”

You knew that neither of those things was true; you were just playing dumb to get him to give in to something you wanted, craved desperately. Your body hadn’t been properly touched in nearly two years; you were starting to get needy.

“You’re in a vulnerable state,” he stated in a raspy voice, heavily affected by your behavior. “I don’t want to do something with you that you might regret later.”

You shook your head almost vigorously, gently punching his chest; it was only gentle because your arousal was weakening your body. “No, you don’t get to leave for Singapore for two years and then come back to deny me. If I say I want you, I better get you, okay? I’ve been lonely for almost two years, Kookie; my fingers are starting to cramp from how much I touch myself thinking about it... don’t you dare deny me.”

Despite the urge to chuckle at your approach, your words made him think about you craving him just as much as he craved you; it made him feel validated and less pathetic for thinking about you after all the time and distance.

He was always convinced the love between you two transcended any boundaries or obstacles.

He captured your lips in a passionate kiss, which you reciprocated with whimpers against his familiar lips. There was no way to describe how much you missed this feeling.

Suddenly gripping your hips tighter, he stood up, carrying you to the bedroom like you weighed nothing, your pussy and his clothed dick touching delectably, evoking even more arousal from both of you.

At his bedroom, he gently placed you on the bed, looking down at you with desire-filled eyes. “You sure you want this?”

“Yes!” Your patience was wearing thin. “Just fuck me, Jungkook, and stop talking so much.”

You tugged at his shirt, and he quickly took the hint, stripping it off to reveal well-defined abs and bulging biceps, arms that looked like they could kill someone.

The last time you saw him, he was already muscular and fit, but it was evident that he took his fitness seriously while in Singapore.

You dreamily stared him up and down. “Now, the pants.”

He chuckled at your bossiness but obeyed without hesitation, leaving him in just his boxers.

You were getting impatient, already reaching for your panties to rub your pussy in anticipation, letting out small ‘hmmm’ sounds that drove Jungkook insane.

Now, he was determined to take off your dress, zipping it down hastily and almost ripping it off you if it weren’t for your hands stopping him from ruining a perfectly good dress.

“Baby, you don’t know how much I missed this,” Jungkook breathed out, eyeing you hungrily while you carefully took off your dress.

Once the dress was off, you revealed nothing more than your panties; you decided not to wear a bra because the dress was strapless and it would look silly with one.

Jungkook’s breath hitched, clearly overwhelmed by the sight of your generous breasts. “No bra?”

You shook your head and slowly approached him, roaming your hands all over him and grabbing him by the neck to pull him in for a kiss.

Your chest pressed against his, or more accurately, against his solid stomach because of your height difference; he was acutely aware of your hard nipples.

“Fuck, Yn,” he groaned, his hands roaming your body just the same. “Need to be inside you.”

“Then fuck me,” you urged, tugging at his boxers with hooded eyes and parted lips, desperation and horniness visible. “Just want you to fuck me, Kookie.”

He tilted his head back at your words, muttering a low ‘fuck,’ before positioning himself to enter your pussy. He quickly glanced into your eyes for any uncertainty, and finally, when he didn’t find anything other than an eager, awaiting expression, he entered your tight pussy with a low groan.

Your mouth widened for a second as you tried to adjust to the feel of his dick again, eliciting loud moans of pleasure and slight uneasiness.

He pressed you against the wall for more support, thrusting deeper into you. He watched his dick enter your pussy; it was almost poetic to him how perfectly made for him your pussy felt.

There were no afterthoughts about the situation being wrong, absolutely no overthinking about Eric, who was blowing up your phone while you were getting your back blown by your ex.

It felt right; you and Jungkook knew you were meant to be, and there was nothing that could happen, no one that could come between you. At the end of the day, you were always going to be back in each other’s arms.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he panted, his lips pressing against your cheeks. “Still so fucking tight for me...”

You let out an aroused purr, already fucked out before even starting. Your hands were gripping his big arms, and your hips were moving towards him, seeking more friction.

“I’ve been dreaming about this moment, baby,” he admitted between low groans, moving in and out skillfully. “You know how many times I fisted my dick thinking about fucking you again?”

“Me too,” you desperately moaned back, bouncing slightly; the sound of slapping skin surrounded the air. “Fuck, Jungkook… love that dick… yes, I fucking love that dick…”

Your barely comprehensible words drove him crazy, gripping your hips and fucking you like you were a fuck toy. “Shit, baby, that pussy’s mine, yeah? Only mine. No one else gets to - fuck - no one else gets to have you like this.”

You nodded, burying your fucked-out face in his broad shoulder, vocalizing the pleasure you felt at every thrust. Your breath tickled his skin, and the warmth of his hands contrasted the coldness of the wall beautifully.

His big dick moved inside of you in a steady rhythm, each thrust making your eyes roll back further.

Your bodies pressed against each other sexually, big breasts spilling out against his strong chest, your hands moving around his back to scratch him harshly, and his grip on your ass and hips becoming almost painful; you were both begging for release.

“Harder, Kookie. Do it harder,” you begged, not caring how desperate you sounded. “That dick feels so fucking good. Oh god, Jungkook.”

He indeed started to fuck you harder, heavy breaths becoming even heavier, lips connecting again and again in sensual kisses. His moans against your lips drove you wild.

The raw intensity of the moment was driving you insane; you felt every inch of his beautiful dick, and he was feeling your pussy entirely, without the almost restrictive feeling of a condom.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he panted with every quickened motion of his dick, his mouth forming an ‘o.’ “Baby, I’m g’na cum. Shit, I’m g’na cum so fucking hard.”

Feeling your high approach as well, you didn’t care about the consequences at all; you planned to go on birth control first thing in the morning, saying, “Cum inside, Jungkook. Please, just fill me up with that cum.”

Your bodies moved together rhythmically, his steady thrusts hitting exactly the right spots as you chased your orgasm. Your eyes locked together and your moans became intertwined.

Low ‘fuck’s and ‘oh god’s were all you heard, as both of you were too deep into the pleasure to formulate real sentences.

With one final thrust and a muttered ‘yes, just like that,’ he found his release, his thick, warm cum deliciously filling you. You closely followed, your back arching and head thrown back, the two of you coming hard.

His broad body momentarily collapsed against yours, both panting hard, still pressed against the wall. He whispered praises and sweet nothings in your ear while trying to regain composure.

“I’m so happy I came here,” you softly kissed him, and he agreed with your words, muttering a ‘me too’ against your lips.

You felt hazy and tired, but you tried to slowly get off Jungkook and get to the bathroom, which you eventually did with his help; he carried you all the way there.

After you finished cleaning yourselves up, you headed straight to the bed. You lay bare on your stomach, still somewhat overstimulated and hazy from the orgasm.

Jungkook gently stroked your backside, muttering things like, “You did so good for me, baby,” and “You don’t know how much I missed this fucking pussy,” before leaning in and biting into your shapely ass playfully, eliciting a gasp from you.

He spread kisses on your ass cheeks and slowly separated them; he stuck his head in between and gave your hole a few licks before gently sucking on the skin of your ass with his skillful tongue.

Your legs started to tremble from pleasure and mild discomfort; Jungkook had eaten you before, but you seldom did that in the bedroom.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized how terrified your brother would be if he knew what you two did.

“Jungkook!” you purred, arching your back for more pressure against his tongue. “Oh fuck… oh my god, oh god.”

Jungkook’s groans and low chuckles sent vibrations through your body, deepening the pleasure and making you seek your high more.

“Fuck, this fat ass is still as good as I remember,” he praised against the sensitive skin, still kneading and spanking it hard. “Wanna stay like this forever.”

He returned to licking and probing your asshole, clearly enjoying your squirming figure. You pushed your ass up, hoping for more friction.

You were practically already fucked out and overwhelmed that you couldn’t answer with more than a simple agreeing moan.

You started grinding your ass against his face, desperately wanting to cum again, enjoying the feel of his tongue against you.

His licks and your grinding quickened, which quickly turned into a series of ‘ah, ah, ah’s as you came undone on his tongue.

When your panting lessened, you turned around, lying on your back in bliss.

You fell asleep in each other’s arms almost immediately.

Jungkook thought this was the nicest way you could have welcomed him back.

___

i hope you enjoy this!! idk if i wanna give this a second part or just leave it like this (cause i have no idea what i would do in the 2nd part actually), but i’m thinking i’ll see if people enjoy it and then think about a part two💋 love uuu

[whateverloomis]

🖤 Dilf!Billy Loomis x Dilf!Stu Macher x AFAB reader (Stepcest)

Here it is cuties, part two (part one) <33 The thirst for dilf!Billy and Stu is intense with this one. Hope y'all enjoy ;)

Important: The image of the dress is only to show what I described in the fic. It's not intended to set a specific body type for the reader.

Tag list: @toxicanonymity @lyl1pad @elmoispookie

Warnings: Stepfather!Billy Loomis, age gap (middle aged Billy and Stu. Reader in their 20s,) AFAB reader (they/them used,) predetermined outfit, cheating, alcohol consumption, weed use, fingering, p in v, oral (both receiving, masturbation, rough sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, lots of teasing, revised: January'25

Word count: 2.1k

After two weeks of nearly getting caught fucking your stepfather on your mothers bed you thought it would serve as a lesson and it totally wasn't.

You hadn’t gotten the chance to have sex with Billy again but that didn’t stop you from brushing your hand over his crotch whenever you walked past him, and it sure didn’t stop him from hugging you from behind and giving your tits a few squeezes while you cooked before your mother walked in the kitchen. Also, why would you waste an opportunity to makeout with him on the couch during movie night while your mother was in the bathroom? You were playing with fire. Getting caught was a stone's throw away but neither of you cared..

The third week after your little adventure you found yourself annoyed as you set up the whole house for a work party your mother was hosting. It was her boss's birthday and since she’s the manager and employee with the biggest house it was basically a default that most activities happened at your place.

That’s also how you met Stu Macher…

It was around the time Billy and your mother started living together. There was a small get together out by the pool and you were inside serving yourself a much needed glass of wine. As you poured the drink Stu walked in to get himself a beer from the mini fridge.

You made brief eye contact with the man and didn’t make much of it until he walked over to the kitchen counter to grab a red solo cup.

“Aren’t you too young to be drinking?” he asked you jokingly, but you could tell it was more than a casual comment.

“I’m legal if that’s what you’re asking” you answered, sassy as ever.

Stu found your little attitude amusing and held the conversation a bit longer than intended.

“You’re a feisty one, huh?” he countered and chuckled.

You couldn’t help but smirk. The dimple that his smile revealed, his natural flirtiness and his goddamn height was a mixture that excited and peaked your interest.

“And that seems to interest you” you continued and he leaned against the counter.

“You caught me there” Stu said and took a swing of his beer.

“Aren’t you supposed to be outside with your work buddies?” you asked before taking a sip of your wine. The cool and tart taste soothed your body.

“To be honest with you, I’d rather be at my house but y’know, gotta pretend that I like these people to keep a good appearance at work” he answered and you nodded.

“Cheers to that” you said and clicked your glass with his beer bottle.

“You wanna get out of here?” Stu asked jokingly and hell, you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat if he was dead serious about it.

“Why would I leave with a stranger?” you flirted and he smiled wide, those goddamn dimples on full display again.

“It’s Stu. Stu Macher” he said and looked out to the backyard as someone calling him.

“See you around, Stu” you closed the conversation and walked past him towards your room.

The man stared as you walked all the way to the hallway, raking his eyes all over your body. He would’ve taken you right then and there had it been another situation, and you sure as hell would’ve given in without hesitating. You even had a wet dream that same night about him fucking you on top of that kitchen counter…

As you arranged the bottles of liquor on that same counter, you remembered that moment and bit your lip at the memory. You even got wet at the thought and it enhanced as you felt Billy wrap his strong arms around your middle.

“I better not catch you drinking any of that tonight” he whispered in your ear and you pressed your ass against his crotch.

“Why? Am I getting in trouble if I do, Daddy?” you asked innocently and the man hissed.

“You’re getting fucked tonight if you keep teasing me like this” Billy replied while squeezing your waist.

“Can’t wait” you said and pushed your back against his chest, enough to move him and give you space to escape his grasp and walk to the backyard.

•

It was 11pm and everyone was tipsy enough to talk freely and be loud. You would be cooped up in your room having a solo smoking sesh if you didn't have entertainment. Two men to play around with. Billy and Stu, to be exact.

You decided to wear something provocative enough to get both of their attention throughout the night. A silk, olive green dress with thin straps and lower back cut.

You decided to go braless as well, your buds visible in an almost classy way. Underwear was out of the question too, easy access was your fun little secret. Even if you didn't get your way with any of the men of interest, at least you could fuck yourself with your favorite toy without the hassle of taking your clothes off.

Outside, you were leaning against the rail of the porch, just enough for your dress to hike up below your ass cheeks. A glass of wine in one hand and a vape in the other. You had a nice buzz coursing through your body and the cool air felt like a wave washing over you.

“Mind if I join?”

Behind you Stu was standing closer than expected. His button shirt had the sleeves rolled up and you couldn't help but look at his strong arms.

“Not at all” you answered, voice soft and inviting.

The man smirked and stood next to you; “Nicotine?” he asked, pointing at your vape.

You chuckled and shook your head no, “Weed. Want a hit?” you offered, which you rarely did but this was a special occasion.

“Sure,” he answered and took a hit from the device, releasing the smoke slowly.

You bit your lip at the sight, it looked hotter than it should've and you were already starting to grow wet between your legs. His proximity was enough to do so, but that sight really did it for you.

Little did you know, Billy was observing you from inside the house pretending to be involved in a conversation between 3 people. You caught his eyes and thought it would be fun to get him a little jealous and rile him up a bit.

As you made small talk with Stu, you got touchy with him on purpose as well as purposely bubbly and flirty, giggling and laughing loud enough for Billy to hear.

“You have the cutest laugh” Stu pointed out and you blushed, covering your mouth while you gasped, hitting his arm playfully.

“Having a good time?” Billy approached Stu and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing tightly.

Stu glared at him subtly before catching your stare. Both men were scanning your body, looking from head to toe shamelessly.

“A great time now that you joined us,” you said boldly and he chuckled.

Stu took note of your flirtiness, confirming what Billy shared about you two earlier that night…

“Wait, on your wife's bed?” Stu asked, laughing. Definitely interested in the whole situation.

“Yeah, that little cunt is to die for. Nearly ended up knocking them up.” Billy continued, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Damn, I'd do anything to get a piece of that.” Stu said while staring at you from a distance. Billy enjoyed the view as well and he definitely had to fuck you that night or else he'd go insane.

“We could tag team for sure. A little more alcohol and weed will do the trick.” Billy confirmed and the men were both set on fucking your brains out…

Which is exactly what happened.

You don't know how you ended up in your room with your stepfather and his best friend, but there you were, on your bed straddling Billy's lap, making out furiously while he groped your ass.

Stu was sitting on your office chair enjoying the view of your now hiked up dress. Booty on full display for him.

You moaned into Billy's mouth as you started to grind against his clothes cock, desperate to have him inside you.

“Fuck, you look so good for us.” Stu said while unbuttoning his jeans, his hard cock finally being released from being trapped in his pants. Of course he didn't wear underwear.

You shook your ass to tease him and Billy spanked you. A warning from his part.

“You save that little attitude for me” he said and you smirked, loving how possessive your stepdad behaved with you.

“I was just playing around, Daddy” you teased further and he pushed you off his lap, pinning you against the bed, his large hand reaching between your legs.

Billy used his middle and ring finger to rub your clit in circular motions. Ring finger decorated with its rightful marriage ring, of course. A sinful display.

He collected your slick from your entrance, dipping his fingers just enough before sliding them back up to your clit.

You were sensitive at the start of the night, but after the alcohol, weed, the teasing… fuck, you could cum just by Billy rubbing your most sensitive spot between your legs. He was borderline torturing you with his slow, methodical movements between your legs.

You ended up grinding against his fingers, trying to feel them deeper inside you but the man wasn't going to please you. No. He needed you to be desperate for him, and that you were.

Finally breaking, you grabbed Billy's hand and pushed his fingers inside you. The long, pathetic, whiny moan you released made both Billy and Stus cocks twitch. Your cute noises affected them the same way and that did it for the man above you. He turned you around and unbuckled his belt quickly, followed by the zipper. He didn't bother to lower his pants much and released his cock enough to bury himself inside your cunt. You were soaked and the stretch felt incredibly good, especially when he bottomed out.

Thank Gods he positioned you on all fours because Stu was right in front of you. He was pumping his cock at the same speed Billy thrust inside you. He imagined how good your cunt must feel around his 8 incher, and you shared the same thought.

“You're such a slut” Billy grunted and pushed your head against the mattress, “Fucking your stepfather again and letting his friend join?” he continued and this time he pulled your hair back, your head facing forward to meet Stus gaze once again, “Pathetic” Billy finished and you bit your lip before sticking your tongue out for Stu. You needed to feel him inside you too and the man understood your message clearly. He walked towards you, cock in hand and rested the tip on your tongue. You purposely drooled and felt him harden further at the sight. You knew exactly what you were doing and he did too.

In a second Stu slid his cock inside your mouth and thrust in unison with Billy. You were stuffed and it felt incredible from both ends. Your eyes rolled back on their own as you felt your orgasm building. You needed to cum and that night you sure as hell didn't want Billy to pull out, so you made sure you squeezed him good when you came.

Reaching under your pillow, you pulled out the vibrator you were using the night prior and placed it on your clit, hitting the perfect spot and combining both pleasure points. The way you squeezed Billy's cock while you were reaching your high made it impossible for him to hold back.

“Fuck baby, keep that up and I'll fill you up real good,” Billy moaned and you whined around Stus cock. The vibration of your voice nearly pushing him over the edge.

After a few more minutes you came around your stepfather's cock, moaning around Stus cock again as he came inside your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, the rest dripping all over your bed.

Finally, Billy came and he didn't care about pulling out, much to your liking. He thrust hard enough for the skin on skin contact to echo around the room as he filled you up with his seed, both of you moaning and groaning non stop.

When he pulled out his cum dripped out of your cunt and he spread your thighs to get a good look, chuckling at the sight

•

“You're leaving?” You asked Stu, pouting.

“My wife is waiting for me, don't wanna get home too late.” He said while buckling his belt.

When the man looked up, Billy was crawling between your legs ready to clean his mess with his skilled tongue. Stu chuckled while fixing his hair with his large hands.

“Don't have too much fun without me” he said.

“Get out” Billy said, half serious, half playful before licking a stripe along your slit.

Stu was already getting hard and had to hide his half boner before walking out of your room.

[minniesfiles]

BLOOM WITH YOU | month 1

After years of heartbreak and disappointment, you and your husband’s dream of starting a family seemed out of reach. But miracle was a beautiful thing.

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; angst, fluff, mild smut

❧ WARNINGS; mention of fainting and hospitalisation, mention of past miscarriages, deep talk, mentally and physically drained reader, medical talks

❧ WORDCOUNT; 5.3k

▁▁▁▁▁▁

series masterlist │ masterlist

𐚁₊⊹

▍5 JANUARY 2026

Your period was late. In fact your periods were never on time — rather always irregular.

But unlike before, there was no rush of excitement, no flutter in your chest, no anxious anticipation. There was only exhaustion.

It wasn’t a surprise, not anymore. The first time it happened, you felt the thrill, the rush of hope. The second time, that hope turned into nervous excitement. By the third, fourth, fifth and sixth, it became a cruel cycle of expectation and heartbreak.

And now, the seventh time, all you felt was exhaustion.

There was no point in wondering, no reason to let yourself feel anything at all. You had done this before. You had taken tests before — stared at little plastic sticks with trembling fingers, held your breath as you waited for a result, then felt the crushing weight of reality settle in when the inevitable happened.

But Wonwoo never blamed you. Not once, and that was what made it harder. If anything, he loved you more and more.

If he had been angry, if he had shown even a flicker of disappointment, maybe you would have had someone else to direct your frustration toward. But he never did. He never looked at you with anything less than love.

His way of showing that love changed over time. In the beginning, he would whisper reassurances, hold you close, and promise you that there was no rush, that everything would be okay. But when words failed, he turned to actions instead.

Lately, his way of showing love to you was to make love to you.

It wasn’t about trying again or about chasing the dream of a family you had once wanted so badly. It was about reminding you that you were enough, that your worth wasn’t measured by your ability to carry a child.

Not even six miscarriages could make him love you any less. And you wished you could believe that.

The sound of a dramatic OST played in the background as you sat on the sofa, absently stuffing grapes into your mouth. You weren’t really paying attention to the show playing on the screen — it was just white noise, something to fill the silence that had settled into your apartment.

“Don’t you think you should take a test?”

You barely heard the words at first, so immersed in your own thoughts that they barely registered. It wasn’t until the screen in front of you shut off, leaving the room in silence, that your brain caught up.

You blinked at the dark screen.

Saehee stood beside you with the remote still in her hand as she braced herself for a reaction. You knew why. Normally, you would have snapped at her and thrown a pillow at her head, or at least groaned in frustration for interrupting your show.

However, today, you didn’t have the energy. Instead, you exhaled slowly as your shoulders sagged. You didn’t turn to face her.

Saehee didn’t move either. She stood there with her arms crossed, watching you with that concerned look that made you feel both grateful and irritated at the same time.

“I don’t want to take a test,” you admitted with your voice quieter than you intended.

Saehee didn’t respond right away. You knew what she was thinking. She was probably choosing her words carefully, and tried to figure out the best way to talk to you without pushing too hard.

Besides Wonwoo, she was there for you through everything — every loss, every tear, every sleepless night where you had collapsed into her arms because you hadn’t wanted Wonwoo to see you break again. She knew better than anyone how fragile this topic was for you.

“Why not?” she asked eventually.

You swallowed. “Because I already know how this ends.”

“But what if…” she hesitated as her fingers fidgeted in her lap. “What if this time is different?”

“You know what my doctor said, Saehee. My uterus is abnormally shaped, which makes it very difficult for me to carry a pregnancy to full term” you almost snapped.

“And your doctor also said that some women have successfully given birth with the same condition as you. What if this is the one time it actually works out? Wouldn’t you want to know?” she tried to reason.

You stared down at the grape stem in your hand, picking at the tiny ends where the fruit had been. You wanted to believe her. You wanted to cling to the hope she was offering. But hope, you painfully came to learn, was dangerous. Hope had crushed you more times than you could count.

“I can’t go through that again,” you whispered.

“I can’t get my hopes up just to lose another—” you cut yourself off, the lump in your throat making it impossible to finish the sentence.

Saehee walked over and sat down next to you. She reached over and took your hand in hers, squeezing gently. “I know,” she said softly.

“But you deserve to know. Even if it’s scary.”

“You aren’t alone in this Y/n. The medical world today has advanced so much. There’s still options out there that could help your case” she went on to say. You swallowed hard, your gaze still fixed downward. You wished it were that simple.

You remembered the three-page letter that Dr. Jung had sent you two months ago that gave you answers and information you needed. It detailed your condition, which you learned was called ‘Uterine Hypoplasia’, a condition where the uterus is smaller than the average size for a woman’s age.

Reasons? You didn’t exactly know, but Dr. Jung said it could be due to genetic factors, hormonal imbalances or medical conditions. As far as you and your parents were aware, you didn’t have any known or hidden medical conditions.

The other main thing the letter also explained was the treatment options. Although natural conception wasn’t impossible, it could still be quite challenging. But many women with a small uterus have successfully been pregnant and carried their pregnancies to full term with the right medical support.

Dr. Jung laid out the options for you: hormonal therapy, surgical interventions, and assisted reproductive technologies like IVF and IUI. She suggested that, after thorough examination, that you opt for hormonal therapy.

But you had yet to respond to her letter. Wonwoo suggested giving it a try, so did your mother and Saehee. But your hopes were too down in the gutter to even consider it.

╶╶╶╶╶

[19:45 p.m.]

Saehee left two hours ago, leaving you pacing back and forth in the bathroom. Your arms were tightly wrapped around yourself, and you were biting your lip so hard you could almost taste blood.

You made an unknowing promise yourself that you would never do this again.

After the last time — after sitting on the cold bathroom floor, sobbing as you clutched yet another failed pregnancy test — you swore you were done. No more tests. No more waiting. No more hope. Because hope, you painfully came to learn, was dangerous. Hope had crushed you more times than you could count.

But after Saehee pleaded, and also thinking back to Dr. Jung’s letter, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to find out.

And now here you were.

Waiting.

Dreading.

Your hands trembled as you reached up, gathering your hair into a messy bun. Loose strands slipped free, but you ignored them. The exhaustion in your eyes, the way your lips were pressed together in a thin, almost colorless line reflected in the mirror in front of you.

You looked…tired. Not just physically, but deep in your bones.

You took a slow step toward the sink. Then another. Your fingers spread across the cool porcelain and grounded yourself, inhaling deeply.

It was time.

You turned the test over.

Two red lines.

Positive.

The sight of it didn’t send a jolt of shock through you like it used to. There was no rush of excitement, no nervous flutter in your stomach like there used to be. Just a quiet, heavy acceptance.

Of course.

Of course, you were pregnant.

You knew your body well enough to recognise the signs — the fatigue, the nausea, the way your period never came when it was supposed to. You knew before you even took the test.

And yet…

Your grip on the sink tightened. You should have felt something.

Happiness? No. Not after everything.

Fear? Maybe. But even that felt dull now.

You exhaled slowly, your gaze locked onto those two little lines, as if staring at them long enough would make them disappear. But they wouldn’t.

Because this was real.

And you knew how it would end.

You lived through it six times already.

Your hand lowered to your stomach, pressing lightly against the fabric of your shirt. There was something growing inside you, once again, something fragile. Something that wasn’t meant to stay.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you forced yourself not to cry.

You wouldn’t do this again. You wouldn’t let yourself fall into the same cycle of false hope and devastation.

You had to protect yourself. From the inevitable heartbreak. From the disappointment in Wonwoo’s eyes. From the way he would still hold you still and whisper that it wasn’t your fault, even though it felt like it was.

You breathed in sharply, forcing yourself to open your eyes. The test was still there. The lines were still there. Nothing had changed.

Except, maybe, the way your heart felt heavier than before.

A lump formed in your throat, but before you could let the tears fall, a familiar voice broke through the heavy silence.

“Honey I’m home!”

Your eyes snapped open. You didn’t know why, but you panicked. Without thinking, you tossed it in the bin beneath the sink. You blinked away the moisture in your eyes and forced yourself to breathe steadily. You had to compose yourself.

With one last glance in the mirror, you smoothed your hands down your shirt and stepped out of the bathroom.

You found Wonwoo in the living room setting down his camera bag by the sofa. His dark eyes lifted and a soft smile spread across his lips as you approached.

“Hey baby,” he greeted as he crossed the room in a few long strides. His hands reached for you and pulled you close by the waist as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

You melted instantly and wrapped your arms around his torso. “How was the shoot?” you murmured.

“Long,” Wonwoo exhaled, resting his chin on top of your head. “But good. The couple was sweet, and the venue was beautiful. You would’ve loved it.”

You hummed in response, your fingers absentmindedly tracing small patterns on his back.

“And you?” he asked, pulling back slightly to look at you. “How was your day?”

“Saehee came to visit earlier” you forced a small smile.

Wonwoo’s eyes softened. “That’s nice. Did you two have fun?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “we just talked and caught up on things.”

It was a partial lie. While you and Saehee indeed talked and caught up on things about life while she was on her business trip to South Africa, Saehee was mainly concerned about you and how you were holding up. In fact she was the one to buy the test after you told her you missed your period.

“That’s good” he hummed.

“Are you hungry? I’m sorry I didn’t cook. If you want I can make something while you shower” you said.

“Hey,” your husband cupped your face, “it’s fine, we’ll just order” he reassured.

“Are you sure? We’ve been having a lot of takeaways lately and I don’t want you to end up having food poisoning” you let out a small giggle.

Wonwoo chuckled as he tucked the strands of hair behind your ear. “This will be the last time, I promise” he said, pecking your lips.

“Shower with me?” he then asked.

You hummed and allowed him to lead you upstairs.

▍6 JANUARY 2026

It wasn’t usual the way Wonwoo’s phone would blow up non-stop while he was in the middle of a shoot like it was right now. The way the vibration inside the pocket of his denim shorts was constant, he knew it was important.

Wonwoo lowered his camera and stood up from his crouching position. Letting the camera dangle around his neck, he fished for his phone and looked at the screen. There were five missed calls and ten text messages from Seahee, and three missed calls from an unknown number.

His brows knitted in confusion. And in that exact moment, his screen lit up with Saehee’s name.

He looked at the couple with an apologetic look. “Sorry, I have to take this” he notified them, and he was grateful they were understanding.

Turning around and walking out of the studio room, he swiped the green button and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Saehee, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Instead of a response, all he heard was muffled cries from the other end, like she was struggling to form words. Whatever it was, Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel his heart pounding. Like something was wrong.

“Saehee—”

“It’s Y/n” she finally spoke up.

And just like that, his heart dropped.

“S-She collapsed at work.”

Wonwoo couldn’t hear anything. His heart was pounding, and his mind was filled with a deafening noise that chanted your name over and over again. Nothing else even existed at that moment. He needed to get to you. He needed to be by your side.

Nothing else mattered.

Without a word to the couple, who stared at his alarmed expression, he turned on his heel and bolted out of the room. They barely had time to say anything before he was gone, disappearing down the hall in an instant.

His breath was ragged and his heartbeat was as he sprinted through the corridors. The moment he pushed through the doors of the building, the cold air hit him, but he barely felt it. His hands trembled as he reached into his pocket, fingers fumbling for his car keys. It took him two tries to get a grip on them before he yanked open the door and threw himself into the driver’s seat.

Wonwoo had never been a reckless driver. He followed every rule. He stopped at every red light, signaled even when there were no cars around. But right now? Right now, none of that mattered.

The tires screeched as he peeled out of the parking lot, and the speedometer climbed higher and higher. He knew he was going too fast. He knew he was being careless. But nothing — no law, no warning signs, no blaring horns from other drivers — could stop him from getting to you.

Because this wasn’t the first time.

It wasn’t the first time he made this drive with his heart in his throat and hands gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. It wasn’t the first time he received the dreaded call and the voice on the other end telling him to come to the hospital.

The road ahead became a blur as his vision clouded with tears that threatened to escape. He forced himself to blink them away, clenching his jaw so tightly it ached. His fingers dug into the leather of the steering wheel as his entire body tensed with anxiety.

He hated this. He hated the unexpectedness, and the feeling of helplessness.

He swerved into the hospital parking lot, barely managing to park his car correctly before jumping out. The door slammed shut behind him, but he didn’t even notice. His feet thumped against the ground as his legs carried him forwards before his mind could catch up.

The harsh and overly bright fluorescent lights in the hospital made his head ache. But he ignored the discomfort and headed straight for the reception desk.

“I’m looking for my wife, Jeon Y/n. Where is she?” he demanded, his voice rough and uneven.

The young receptionist, who saw Wonwoo more times than she would like to admit, didn’t even hesitate. Her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard as she pulled up your records.

“Room 717, the radiology department,” she told him, looking up with an expression that was all too familiar — pity.

Wonwoo barely managed to nod in thanks before he took off, his feet moving on autopilot down the hallways as fast as they could. His heart hammered with every step with dread creeping up his spine. He memorised this route. He walked these halls too many times before.

And yet, it never got easier.

When he reached Room 717, he didn’t pause. Didn’t knock. Didn’t hesitate. When he shoved the door open, his breath caught in his throat the moment his eyes laid on you.

You were lying on the hospital bed with the white sheets pulled up to your waist. The sight of the IV drip in your arm made something in him twist painfully. You looked so fragile. Your face was pale and your lips were slightly chapped. But what reassured him — what made his knees almost buckle with relief — was the way your chest rose and fell with each breath.

Dr. Jung was standing in the corner, flipping through her clipboard. She looked up at him and gave him a small smile. “She’s stable,” she said quietly.

Wonwoo exhaled sharply as his fingers ran through his hair. His body, which was running on pure adrenaline, suddenly felt heavy. But he didn’t stop moving.

As he walked towards you, he unhooked the camera from around his neck and set it on the small table beside your bed. His fingers hovered in the air for a moment before he finally reached out, a little hesitant.

His fingertips brushed against your cheek, and the coldness of your skin made his breath hitch. His lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, his eyes burned as he fought the lump in his throat.

And then, as if you felt him, your eyelids fluttered.

Wonwoo stilled, and his heart stopped for a brief second before your gaze finally focused on him. “Hey,” you murmured, a small, weak smile tugging at your lips as you leaned into his touch.

Wonwoo let out a shaky breath, feeling his entire body sagging in relief. “Are you okay? What happened?” his voice was hoarse.

He pulled the chair next to your bed closer and sat down before taking your hand in his. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

You hesitated as your eyes flickered away for a moment. “I was just coming out of the bathroom…and suddenly, I felt really lightheaded. And yeah…” you trailed off, your fingers curling slightly against his palm.

Wonwoo’s grip on your hand tightened. “You fainted?”

You nodded slowly.

A deep crease formed between his brows. Before he could speak, you interrupted him. “I’m fine now, really,” you said softly, trying to reassure him.

“Just a little tired, that’s all.”

But Wonwoo wasn’t convinced. He heard those words too many times before.

“I told you to stop skipping breakfast,” he scolded. “How many times have I told you?”

You blinked at him before breaking into a small, tired giggle. “You’re so cute when you scold,” you muttered. .

Wonwoo sighed, shaking his head, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

Dr. Jung stepped forward, breaking the silence that settled in the hospital room. “Right, are you ready to go ahead with the scan Y/n?” she asked calmly.

Wonwoo’s brows furrowed immediately. He was so focused on your wellbeing that he didn’t even think to ask what kind of tests they were going to run. His eyes darted between you and the doctor as confusion etched across his face.

“Scan? What scan?” he questioned with a sharp, urgent voice as if he missed something crucial.

You stiffened slightly, and your fingers instinctively tightened around the blanket on your lap. Your eyes travelled towards Wonwoo for a brief second before darting away, avoiding his gaze. The room suddenly felt small and suffocating.

Dr. Jung hesitated, looking at Wonwoo before turning back to you. “Y/n, did you not tell him?”

A lump formed in your throat. You couldn’t find it in yourself to answer.

“Tell me what?” Wonwoo asked, sounding frustrated, but underneath it, it was fear.

Silence hung between the three of you. You looked down at your lap, fiddling with the fabric of the hospital gown between your fingers. You wanted to tell him. You really did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. Not when you knew the kind of hope it would ignite in his eyes.

Dr. Jung sighed, sensing your reluctance. She turned to Wonwoo, who was now looking more anxious than ever. “She’s four weeks pregnant.”

The words slammed into him like a freight train.“What?” Wonwoo whispered, blinking as if he misheard her.

“You probably know it by now, but at this stage, she’s quite vulnerable,” Dr. Jung continued, keeping her voice measured and clinical. “Her blood pressure was low, which is why she fainted.”

Wonwoo’s heart plummeted to his stomach. His body froze, and for a second, he couldn’t move, not could he breathe. His eyes snapped to you, his lips parting as he struggled to find the right words.

“Y/n?” he called out, his voice soft, hesitant.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his. The moment your gazes locked, he saw it — the fear, the hesitation, the pain. His heart clenched at the sight.

“You’re pregnant?” he asked. You swallowed hard, then gave him a small nod.

His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with the force of his emotions. Pregnant. The word echoed in his mind.

He should’ve felt elated. After all, this was something you both wanted for so long. But instead of excitement, all he could feel was the crack in his heart as he noticed the way you weren’t smiling, the way you were bracing yourself as if expecting the worst.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” there was a slight tremor in his voice which betrayed how deeply this affected him.

You exhaled, your shoulders slumping. “I only found out yesterday.”

Wonwoo’s breath hitched.

“Saehee convinced me to take a test when I told her I missed my period,” you admitted, still refusing to meet his gaze.

There was no joy in your voice. No excitement.

Only exhaustion.

Wonwoo’s heart ached. He could see it now. You were too scared to tell him. Too scared to believe in this miracle. Because you were here before — six tims. He was there for all of them. He watched you crumble, grieve, and smile through the pain even when he knew you were breaking inside.

And now, as he looked at you, he realised — this time, you weren’t even letting yourself hope.

“But Wonwoo,” you finally said, your voice quiet and fragile. “What if it doesn’t work out this time too?”

He sucked in a sharp breath.

“What if our baby never gets to make it til the end, like all the other six times?” your voice cracked, and the pain in it shattered his heart into pieces.

“No matter how much I pray, it never ends the way I want it to. So what’s the point when I already know how it’s going to end?”

A single tear slipped down your cheek. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sob threatening to break free.

Wonwoo couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor as he moved to sit beside you on the bed. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest.

You tensed for a moment before finally melting into his embrace, and your fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt.

“Hey,” he mumbled against your hai. “Don’t do that. Don’t think so negatively.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “I’m not Wonwoo, I’m being realistic. I’m just so tired.”

His grip tightened. “I know,” he whispered. “I know, baby”

Your body trembled in his hold. “We’ll face this together,” he comforted, leaning back so he could cup your face. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks and wiped away your tears.

“I know you’re scared. I am too. But baby, you’re not alone. I’m right here.”

Your lips quivered. “But I don’t think I can handle losing another one.”

Wonwoo exhaled shakily. “Then we’ll grieve together.” His forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with nothing but love.

“But for now, let’s hold onto this. Let’s believe in this little life growing inside of you. Please, Y/n.”

You stared at him, his words sinking into your heart. He wasn’t asking you to pretend everything was okay. He wasn’t telling you to ignore your pain.

He was just asking you to try. To hold onto hope — together.

A fresh wave of tears welled up in your eyes, but this time they were softer and less afraid. .

Wonwoo pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Let’s do the scan,” he murmured. You hesitated for only a moment before nodding.

You swallowed hard and your heart pounded against your ribcage as Dr. Jung prepped the machine. This was the moment you were both dreading and anticipating. The moment that would either give you hope or confirm your worst fears.

Wonwoo sat beside you with his firm but gentle grip on your hand. He could feel the slight tremble of your fingers against his own, and he gave them a reassuring squeeze.

“Alright Y/n,” Dr. Jung said softly, offering you a small and encouraging smile. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

Unable to find your voice, you just nodded.

When the cold gel came in contact with your skin, you shivered slightly. As Dr. Jung pressed the ultrasound probe gently against your abdomen, Wonwoo’s eyes never left the screen. He had been here before, sitting in this exact position, staring at a monitor with bated breath. The memories grazed at the back of his mind. The empty sacs, the weak fetal heartbeats that faded too soon, the silence that followed after each loss.

But this time, he prayed it would be different.

The screen flicked in, and for a few agonising seconds, there was nothing but static. Your fingers tightened around Wonwoo’s, and he could feel the cold sweat on your palm.

Then you both saw it. A tiny, fluttering movement on the screen. A rapid, rhythmic pulsing.

A heartbeat.

Dr. Jung’s smile widened as she adjusted the probe to make the image clearer. “There,” she said softly. “There’s your baby.”

Your free hand flew to your mouth as tears instantly welled in your eyes. Wonwoo felt his own vision blur as he stared at the screen, feeling his heart swelling with a mixture of awe, relief, and overwhelming love.

The small blob on the screen was still so tiny, barely distinguishable, but it was there. And it was alive.

“The heartbeat is strong,” Dr. Jung continued as she adjusted the volume so the rapid thumping sound filled the room. “That’s exactly what we want to see at four weeks.”

Your body sagged in relief, and a sob escaped your lips. Wonwoo reached up and wiped away the tear that slipped down your cheek.

“It’s okay my love,” he whispered. “They’re okay.”

Dr. Jung, however, remained focused as she carefully examined the screen. After a moment, she looked at you with the same kind but serious expression she always wore when discussing your condition.

“Now, I know this is wonderful news, but we need to talk about the next steps.”

The shift in her tone made your heart clench, and Wonwoo’s grip on your hand tightened. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Dr. Jung turned the screen slightly and pointed at the position of the embryo. “Y/n, given your history and your uterine abnormality, we’re going to have to take medical intervention to ensure this pregnancy remains viable.”

Your throat felt dry. You always knew that even if you did conceive again, carrying the baby to full term would be an uphill battle. Your uterus was never a safe environment for a growing fetus, and each miscarriage had been a painful reminder of that.

“Your condition,” Dr. Jung continued gently, “makes it difficult for the embryo to implant securely. There’s a risk of inadequate blood supply, which could lead to complications. Right now, everything looks good, but if we don’t act preemptively, the chances of miscarriage increase significantly.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “So…what do we do?”

Dr. Jung sighed softly. “There are a few options, but the best course of action would be a combination of hormonal support, regular monitoring, and possibly a cervical cerclage.”

“A cerclage?” Wonwoo’s brows furrowed.

Dr. Jung nodded. “It’s a procedure where we place a stitch in the cervix to help it stay closed and prevent early labor or miscarriage. Given Y/n’s history, her cervix may not be strong enough to hold the pregnancy as it progresses. We wouldn’t do the procedure just yet, but if we see signs of cervical incompetence in the coming weeks, we’ll need to act quickly.”

The words sent a chill down your spine. You read about cerclages before. They were often a last resort, a desperate attempt to keep the baby inside just a little longer. Some women had success with them, but others had not.

Wonwoo felt you stiffen beside him. He turned to you as his eyes searched for yours. “Hey,” he whispered almost as he tilted his head so you would look at him.

“What are you thinking?”

You let out a shaky breath. “I just…I’m scared. I don’t want to go through another loss Wonwoo” your voice cracked.

“I don’t know if I can do it again.”

His heart ached at the vulnerability in your words. He reached up and cupped your face gently. “I know baby,” he whispered. “I know.”

Dr. Jung gave you both a moment before she continued. “We’ll also start you on progesterone supplements immediately. Progesterone is crucial in the early stages of pregnancy to support the uterine lining and help the embryo implant securely.”

You nodded slowly, trying to process everything.

“In addition,” Dr. Jung continued, “we’ll schedule ultrasounds every week to monitor the baby’s growth and the condition of your uterus. If we notice anything concerning, we’ll adjust the treatment plan accordingly.”

Wonwoo turned back to her. “And if we do everything you’re suggesting…what are the chances?” he asked.

Dr. Jung hesitated. “I won’t lie to you,” she admitted.

“There are still risks. But if we’re diligent, and if Y/n’s body responds well to the treatments, the chances of carrying to term increase significantly.”

It wasn’t the guarantee you hoped for, but it was something. A chance. And right now, that was all you could ask for.

You exhaled and glanced at the screen once more. The tiny spark of life continued to beat steadily. Wonwoo leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“We’re doing this,” he whispered. “Together.”

You turned to him as your lips quivered. “You still want to try?”

“Of course I do. I want this baby. I want our baby.”

He gave you a look that was filled with so much love and devotion that it made your chest tighten. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but this time, they weren’t just from fear. They were from hope.

Dr. Jung smiled as she sensed the shift between you two. “Then let’s get started.”

She reached for the prescription pad as she got ready to outline the plan that could save your baby’s life. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe( this time would be different.

a/n; sorry for the long wait🥹

[mokulule]

A Man has Needs part 5

First | Masterpost Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom DP x DC Summary:

In which Jason keeps up ending up in Danny's bed and not even for any fun reasons.

With the comfortingly normal sounds of the coffeemaker huffing and puffing, Danny felt just a bit calmer. Surely things would be okay. What was a little boner between friends?

Were they friends? Danny liked to think they were, of a sorts. They were certainly friend-ly? And while his guest wasn’t the most verbose, Danny thought he enjoyed their time together? The thought niggled in the back of Danny’s mind that aside from that one disastrous time his guest had come to talk in the afternoon, they never saw each other outside the mornings after. But that was fine! The whole situation was kind of mortifying when you thought about it, which is why Danny tried not to think about it.

His guest couldn’t help his dysregulated ecto-metabolism. Until that was fixed this would keep happening, so Danny had tried to make the best of it - would keep trying to make the best of it.

Surely things would be okay, Danny repeated internally for the umpteenth time, as the coffee finished. He took out their mugs with a deep calming breath. If they could shoulder past the whole accidental bedmate sitch, surely this was just a little thing. A blip.

He heard movement in the bedroom, any moment now his guest would come out, and Danny would have to make sure everything felt normal. He forced an optimistic smile on his face as he started to pour the coffee. It would be fine in a moment, he just had to work through the initial awkwardness and everything could go back to normal.

There was the low squeak and thump of the window opening and closing.

Danny’s smile felt petrified on his face; he didn’t have to check to know his guest had left. He could feel it.

Slowly, carefully, he set the coffee pot down on the counter.

Danny’s shoulders fell in defeat. A ball of lead settled heavy into his chest. Somehow, he had not even considered that option.

Oo o oO

Fuck, he had ruined everything, Jason thought as he tumbled through his own bathroom window. Why didn’t he just go home yesterday? Why had he been so fucking weak!?

He longed to go back, to try to explain himself, to do anything but run away. But he couldn’t face Danny now, not after taking advantage like a creep.

Oo o oO

It was a whole four days later until Danny awoke once again in the arms of his sleeping guest. Clenching his eyes tightly shut he rolled intangibly out of the embrace. The ball of lead had migrated to his stomach, and Danny tiredly rubbed his face.

A cautious sort of hope lifted the weight slightly when his guest was still sleeping once Danny had dressed. Things seemed more normal today. Danny padded into the main living space. Automatically he got the coffee going then pulled out the carton of eggs and a pan.

He halted, one egg in hand, when he heard movement from the bedroom. He couldn’t help holding his breath as the seconds crawled along.

One minute…

One minute thirty-

The window opened and closed.

Danny’s breath left him in a punched out whoosh. He put the egg back in the carton and back in the fridge. He wasn’t that hungry anymore.

It was the herald of a new depressing normal.

Oo o oO

November turned to December. The leftover snow from one of Mr. Freeze’s attacks brought much happiness to children across Gotham and much aggravation to the adults who had to drive in it. The Holiday cheer, which had been negligible and relatively easy to ignore in November, had turned aggressive by the coming of December and now by mid December Danny was well and truly done with it.

His calls home were underscored by his parents’ age old Santa argument and he’d resolved not to answer any calls until January. It went without saying he was not going home for Christmas, which his parents’ somehow hadn’t understood why. It didn’t help that Jazz, Sam and Tucker were bothering him to come home for the Holidays as well, and they should fucking know!

His regular bus had been cancelled due to the weather, and he had quite a few more blocks than normal to walk. He trudged glumly along, trying to ignore the squelching of his wet shoes. Sneakers really weren’t for snow sludge weather, and his worn and beaten pair even less so. It was lucky that growing into his ice powers had come with a level of resistance to the cold.

Danny reared away from a donation box suddenly showed in his face, and resisted the strong urge to just go invisible and fly away. He just wanted to get an overly sugary coffee concoction and go home to study for his Finals without being accosted by jingle bells and unsolicited singing, was that too much to ask?

Finally, Danny’s local coffee shop was in view.

Unconsciously, he walked faster. He just wanted to get home already.

It was just Danny’s luck that just as he reached the door someone walked out - someone more solid than Danny. His breath was punched out with an oof as his kinetic energy got turned right around, converted into potential energy and landed him flat on his ass in the sludge.

This really was just Danny’s luck. It was December. December was always a bad month. Danny could handle that, but then the person spoke-

“Oh shit, I’m so- Danny?”

Danny knew that voice. He didn’t even have to look up to know it was his guest who hadn’t spoken to him in a month, stealing away like a thief in the mornings. Yet, he looked up anyways. There stood his guest handsome as ever, with a fluffy looking red scarf and a matching unevenly knitted beanie that spoke to someone having made it for him. His guest, who apparently knew his name, and who was flanked by two other shocked, unfairly attractive guys.

“Oh!” The older guy, who looked like he’d just exited a hair commercial for luscious wavy locks, exclaimed. His lips split into a blindingly white smile as he grabbed excitedly on to Danny’s stunned guest in a very familiar way. “You know each other? A friend Jaybird?”

“Uh,” Jaybird responded looking from Danny to commercial guy in a flustered panic and it was that more than anything that made Danny snap.

Danny had been angry at himself that he’d ruined things, that he’d made his guest so uncomfortable he’d rather leave than exchange a single word with him. He’d been devastated, and lonely knowing how things had been and what they had become, the potential loss of a friend who was also ghostly was especially hard to swallow. And now his guest couldn’t even give a little white lie to save Danny’s dignity. Was it that hard just to say yes?

“No,” Danny said getting up, batting the hand away reaching suddenly to help him and giving him a glare for good measure. “We just sleep together.”

Commercial guy spat out the coffee he’d just drunk, coughing and sputtering and the second guy started pounding him on the back. Danny flashed his teeth vindictively, turned and started the final trek home.

Even a sugary caffeine concoction could not save this fucking day.

-

I meant to post this in the weekend as a pick me up for my very busy 7 day work week, but alas the 7 day work week kicked my ass and I didn't get around to posting.

In wonderful news I'm gonna see a friend today. I'm very tired but very happy.

Tell me what you thought? Aren't they just amazing at not talking with each other? XD

(you can subscribe to the fic at the masterpost)

[lazy4honey]

Hybrids: Wolf x Hare

I saw a post mentioning Wolf hybrid x Hare hybrid where the hare is dominant and I thought “oh a hare hybrid topping a wolf hybrid, cool!” only to discover they meant a power bottom… So this is a hare topping a wolf.

Contains: past tense, second person perspective, m!wolf x m!hare reader, fingering, lube, condoms, anal, some dirty talk, a little rough, “pup” and “leveret” instead of “babe”, possibly friends to lovers and also a hate fuck…? NSFW & MDNI

As a buck hare hybrid, your long, powerful legs have already helped you find a good mate for your spring frenzy many years in a row.

And then your frantic performance during that month would scare them away, complaining about how you didn’t listen and should be more gentle and so on — all things you’d explained to them beforehand, which they had explicitly consented to.

Of course, you’d also tried sitting it out once, specifically your first time, but that went so terribly haywire you didn’t want to remember it.

Since the relationships never survived the spring, you’d start looking for a new mate the moment they ended. For this, it was useful to have a friend circle where each friend’s circle overlapped with other circles and then some more. It greatly reduced the chances of fucking yourself through your friends and then ending up with no friends.

However, this year, this well-tried system suffered a bug.

No, not a real bug, not a bug hybrid either — actually, that would have been leagues better than your current situation. Maybe getting fucked by a hybrid in possession of an ovipositor would have been an eye opening sexual experience for you.

This summer, an old friend had invited you to an outing where another old friend whom you hadn’t seen in years brought their partner who in turn brought some of their friends. Among these friends was a red wolf hybrid.

You were introduced to each other and happened to sit together, so you casually chatted a little with him. Finding him pleasant, you felt he would make a good additional connection to your network, and so repressed your solitary nature to talk with him more than you would have otherwise.

The next time you met was a coincidence. Both your friend groups had gone to the same beach and then spontaneously joined together. It was a fun time, and when the red wolf approached you, you were in a generous enough mood to exchange numbers with him.

You met every now and then, more often through your friends holding parties or going to clubs, and over time you became friends.

By autumn, you were close enough to meet alone, taking walks, going out for some coffee, or meeting at the library. It was quiet and cozy, but you still wouldn’t invite him to your home or go to his for watching movies together or such.

Then winter began and January rolled around.

You still hadn’t found a mate for your spring frenzy and were feeling a little anxious.

Actually, there had been a few candidates among the friends of Jules, the red wolf, but every time at the next meeting after chatting them up, they would awkwardly tell your various reasons why it wasn’t possible anymore. The most common reason was that they had already found someone different to mate with and were very happy.

Jules would then pat you on the back, lowering his already deep and sexy voice to comfort you.

But when he showed up on your doorstep on the first day of January with his tail wagging and asking you to be his mate, you suddenly understood—

This guy was doing the same shit as you!

And he was even worse, sabotaging your chances by excluding you when playing matchmaker for his friends!

You slammed the door shut, right in his face, and decided to cut off contact.

It was a pity for the nice time you had spent with him, but a wolf in rut was just as bad as a hare in their spring frenzy, and you weren’t about to get yourself railed by a wolf!

Unfortunately, Jules disagreed.

Ever since that first day of January, who knew how he did it, but he would follow you wherever you went the moment you left your house.

Buying groceries? He was there.

Going to work? Also there.

Shopping? There!

At first, he just wagged his tail. After a few days, he walked closer to you. Then he took every opportunity he could get to stick close to you, to touch you, first your fingers, then your hand, cheek and ears, followed by your sensitive neck, and he even went as far as creating situations where he could sneak touches at your butt and tail. To others, even your closer friends, it looked like you two were a pair.

But that wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back.

It was his dirty talk that started in February.

He would tell you whenever he got hard and the reason why. Be it your thighs outlined by your tight pants, the twitch of your tails and ears, or the way your eyes shone when you had a new idea on how to deceive him so he’d leave you alone, it all seemed capable of arousing him in an instant.

Then came how he wanted to ram his big cock into your tight hole, fuck you until you were all loosened up for him, shove his fat knot inside you and make you cum until you couldn’t anymore while he filled you with load after load of cum and made your belly bulge with his seed.

A few days after voicing these obscene thoughts that you didn’t want to hear, Jules suddenly started calling you Leveret. He hugged you tightly, his hard cock straining against his pants and poking your ass as he confessed in a panic so needy and whiny like you’d never experienced that he’d had a crush on you since autumn. He wanted you completely to himself, the less you talked with others and the more attention you paid to him the happier he was, and for some reason he decided the best way to keep you from dating someone else was by playing matchmaker for them.

It was utterly ridiculous.

You somehow managed to get him off of you and quickly left, wanting to calm down and reorganize your thoughts.

But Jules didn’t give you that chance.

He showed up at your door the next day. Before you could slam the door or scold him, he lunged at you, pressed you into his chest, and kicked the door shut.

Instead of nuzzling your neck like he’d done before, he stared at you, his brown eyes filled with a mix of determination and an attempt at looking pitiful, “Leveret, I didn’t mean to scare or anger you, I-I just like you so much I want to be with you all the time…”

“So you decided to ruin my life?” you frowned at him.

“No! No, I- Leveret, you can do to me anything you want, just let me be with you.”

You doubtfully stared at him. “Do anything I want?”

Jules eagerly nodded, “Yes! Anything!”

“And what if I want to beat you?”

His ears and tail drooped a little, but he tried to play it off. “That’s also fine! Even if you want to insult or punish me, I will accept it.”

You didn’t understand. “Why? It’s obviously making you uncomfortable, and I’m not—“

“Because it’s you.”

You felt your heart miss a beat.

Was this guy serious?

He swallowed nervously, “If-if you don’t want to…”

You closed your eyes for a moment. When you opened them again, you were expressionless. The red wolf stiffened, thinking you were really angry now, when you suddenly threw him over your shoulder, marched into your bedroom, and tossed him onto your bed.

He was still stunned when you pressed down on top of him and held his damned handsome face, squishing his cheeks together.

“Are you sure?” you asked, staring into his eyes.

He slowly nodded.

“Anything?” you asked again.

His eyes shone and you could feel his tail start wagging again as he gave you an enthusiastic nod.

“Well then, my little pup, let’s hope you won’t regret it, hm?”

He shuddered at your words, his eager eyes gleaming with a watery sheen and his cock pressing into your thigh as if he was about to start humping you right in this moment.

Considering he’d annoyed you for almost two months and ruined your search for a mate for even longer, you decided to relieve some of your pent-up irritation.

You roughly removed his jacket and shoes and carelessly threw them aside, then plopped your firm ass down on his crotch, triggering a muffled groan. Following that, you ran your hand down the close-fitting shirt showcasing Jules’ tight muscles, grabbed the hem, and tore it open. You felt his dick twitch against your ass.

“So you like it rough, huh, little pup?”

You leaned down, your hands sliding up his muscular abdomen to his sturdy chest and pinching his nipples. Your face stopped just above his, close enough to kiss if he just raised himself up a little, but your hands pressed down on him, preventing him from touching you and making the red wolf whimper pitifully.

“Then let’s fuck you up,”

“Leveret…”

Jules’ husky murmur was cut short by your biting kiss. Teeth collided and tongues entangled. His paws slowly slid up your powerful thighs and settled on your buttocks, kneading them in a way that his claws dug into your flesh and pulling your tail.

The pain elicited a moan from you.

Before the red wolf could feel happy with himself, you bit him forcefully enough to draw blood. Then you grabbed his wrists, pulling his arms up and securing them above his head.

“Little pup, why are you acting up? Just let yourself obediently get pampered by me, hm?”

“…Mhm.”

You bit his jaw in satisfaction and started making your way down, leaving bites on his rolling throat, his protruding collarbone, and his undulating chest.

His needy pants made you smirk.

Sitting up on his crotch, you let go of his wrists and got off of him. You licked your lips at his adorably confused look and grabbed him to turn him onto his stomach in one smooth motion. Like he did before, you grasped his tail and gave it a good pull. He shuddered and gasped as a tingle ran his tail up his spine and into his balls and dick.

“Leveret…”

You chuckled and held the base of his tail, massaging it while biting along his spine from his neck down to the small of his back, coaxing needy moans and shallow hip thrusts out of him.

Suddenly, your grip on his tail tightened and you pulled his ass up into the air. It was firm and round, with the reddish tail sticking out from his pants’ aperture at his butt cleft. After admiring his form for a moment, you ripped the obstructing pants off of him and found that he had completely foregone his underpants, immediately revealing his balls and his hard cock protruding from its sheath to your view.

Holding against the tail that reflexively pressed down due to his arousal, you leaned closer to examine his small puckered asshole, your breath spraying on the sensitive skin.

Jules trembled and his dick and asshole twitched as his claws dug into your sheets and he desperately breathed in your scent, trying to keep calm but still unable to resist pleading, “Leveret, hurry, do whatever you want, just fuck me, please!”

You bit his ass cheek, inducing another tremble.

“Sure.”

Then, hand sliding down from his tail to his asshole to circle around the delicate skin, you leaned over to your bedside table and retrieved a big tube of lube.

You held it in front of him, “You’re not allergic to anything in there, are you?”

Jules swallowed and focused his gaze on the small writing with some difficulty before shaking his head, “No…”

“Good,”

So you proceeded with opening the tube and squeezing some of the unscented gel onto his asshole and your hand. He shuddered at the cool sensation and hugged your pillow, desperately breathing in your scent in deep pants, seeming unable to relax. You didn’t feel like comforting him, but you didn’t want to really hurt him either, so you slowed your pace.

Holding up his tail with your dry hand, you used the lubed up finger of your other to circle around his puckered hole and gently prodded it. The regular motion allowed the lube to warm up a little and Jules gradually got used to the feeling.

And the moment Jules got used to it, he started causing trouble again.

“Leveret, hurry up, I want to feel you inside me… I’ve thought about how tight and hot you’d feel around my cock so many times, how your asshole would clench around my knot when you come from me pumping you full of my cum again and again and how you would cry when it gushes all out once my knot loosens, and then you’d feel so empty you’d beg me for more, for me to cockwarm inside of you, and— Ah!”

Annoyed, you unceremoniously shoved your finger inside his asshole and wriggled it a little. You felt the muscles of his anus clench around your finger, as if wanting to force the invading thing out, and you chuckled darkly.

“If you want to dream, go to sleep. Today, it’ll only be me fucking you, my little pup. I might not have that fat knot you’re so proud of, but I will certainly make good use of what I have and fuck you senseless. Just imagine you cockdrunk from my railing, begging unintelligibly, not remembering whether you want my dick to fuck you faster or slower. Oh, and once my spring frenzy comes, it’ll get real fun, then I’ll make you unable to even crawl out of bed…”

You whispered in his ear as you pumped your finger in and out of him, adding some more lube so his dry little hole could take you better.

The red wolf groaned and wriggled his hips, making you curl your finger and eliciting a low growl. Jules turned his head to look at you with his lustful brown eyes, and the way his husky voice arranged the words was simply baffling.

“Does that mean I’ll still be with you in spring?”

“…If you can hold on that long, maybe.”

His eyes curved as he smiled, overflowing with an emotion you couldn’t quite name, yet it felt all encompassing.

You stared into his eyes, lost in that strange yet cozy feeling until Jules suddenly hummed and shook his butt, and then you remembered that your finger was still sticking in his butt and what you were about to do had at least the slight flavor of a hate fuck, or maybe rather revenge sex.

“Leveret, please fuck me,” Jules whined and pushed himself further onto your finger, making his voice a little breathy, “I want to know what your cock feels like inside of me, I want you to touch and kiss me, I want…” He panted as he twisted his neck to look at you, “I want you…”

As you wondered if there would ever be a day when his sweet or dirty talk wouldn’t set you off like a firecracker, you squeezed some more lube and pushed a second finger into him.

His breath hitched and his ears quivered, the tail pressing down and almost getting his own fur into his ass. You couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed and soon added a third finger, almost stretching all the folds out of his poor hole. Ass crammed with your fingers, every deliberate push producing squelching sounds, the red wolf’s thighs trembled and he kept whimpering like a wronged puppy.

You sped up your hand movement, your fingers glistening with lube easily sliding in and out of his asshole. Every now and then you would brush against a certain spot inside of him that made Jules clench each time, allowing you to clearly feel the pulse going through his rectum whenever it happened. Gradually, you started targeting that spot, and it didn’t take long before unrestrained moans and whined filled your bedroom.

The thought of it being your cock instead of your fingers enveloped by him, causing him this pleasure, made you hard, and it also made you lose your patience.

You pulled put your fingers with a loud squelch.

He looked at you, both confused and still caught in his pleasure slowly approaching the peak. Then he saw you rid yourself of your clothes, fully revealing your slender yet powerful figure before him for the first time. His gaze roamed over your body, fervently admiring every inch of you before settling on your erect cock.

He audibly swallowed at the sight.

“My, my, so eager, my little pup?” You smirked at him and leaned over, pressing close to feel his heat and bite him a few more times.

Jules whimpered and rubbed against you, clearly eager for more.

So you fished a condom out of your bedside table and bit it open while locking eyes with him. Then you retreated, sat up behind him, and properly put on the condom. You squeezed more lube onto your hand and held his tail up with a tight grip.

“Ready?”

He adjusted himself a little, his buttocks swaying right in front of your eyes as he tried to get a little more comfortable and dug his claws into his own ass cheeks to pull them apart and reveal his loosened hole to you in all its glory.

“…Ready.”

You generously slathered your dick with the lube and smeared the rest onto him, then held his hips and aligned yourself with his entrance. The tip of your cock poked at the loosened, lubed up hole, and you could see it close and open as if breathing, lightly brushing against your glans.

“Leveret, hurry up…” Jules whined and recklessly shoved his ass towards you, incidentally directly impaling himself with half your dick. He inhaled sharply, “Fuck…!”

You felt his ass clench around you and groaned, “Little pup, you’re really impatient, aren’t you? Your greedy little hole is so eager to eat me up, the bite it took was a little too big for you… Ah, I’ve never encountered a pup begging to be fucked so desperately, and by a hare at that…”

While speaking, you slowly pushed your dick inside him. Watching him swallow you was a most arousing sight, enticing you to give up the slow and steady approach and just ram into him, to go balls deep and make his ass jiggle with each thrust, have him cry put until his voice was hoarse like the call of a crow…

His hands holding his ass cheeks shook as you buried your cock inside his asshole. The hot, tight walls of his soft insides squeezed your length and reluctantly clung to you as you very slowly pulled out. It sucked on your glans before being forced to let go, producing a wet plop sound.

Jules whined and wriggled his ass, so you pushed in again, faster this time, moaning when the heat enveloped you. His ass was so tight you felt like it would milk you dry the moment you didn’t pay attention, yet at the dame time you couldn’t wait to loose control and cram yourself inside his hole regardless of everything.

You sped up as your sanity slipped away, your mind echoing with the wolf’s moans and whines that were growing louder and more frequent.

As you pumped in and out, you occasionally grazed that sensitive spot inside him with your glans. Every time it happened, his ass would throb and tighten around you, causing both of you to moan, inducing you to search for that spot and target it once you found it. You wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing him firmly against you as you fucked him, your dick never leaving his asshole before thrusting in again.

Jules could barely hold himself up anymore and, head only filled with desire, reached for his own engorged cock to help a bit. The knot was already swelling up, indicating he was about to cum.

Your thrusts shook his entire body, making his hands basically jerk his dick all on its own. Yet it just didn’t seem to be enough, the pleasure neither releasing nor fading, just constantly building up as you fucked into him.

“Leveret, Leveret, I want to cum…”

You almost couldn’t hear his whines over your own panting and the noise of your naked bodies smacking together, the lube squelching and the bed creaking, thumping against the wall, and you weren’t really clear about what you could do to help him release. So you just did whatever you liked, one hand gripping his waist so hard your nails dug into his flesh and the other following his arm to his cock, teasing his glans, rubbing his knot and kneading his tight balls.

As your climax approached your thrusts grew sloppier and more irregular, almost frantically chasing that high. Then, you came. A wave of pleasure crashed over you, making you tighten your grip on Jules and fiercely bite down on his nape. You felt his asshole flutter around your cock, squeezing more cum out of you while he shot his own load onto your sheets with a loud moan.

The peak of your ecstasy was extended for an unknown time, and by the time your mind returned, you realized you were both panting heavily. Still intimately connected, Jules lay bonelessly in your embrace, unable to hold himself up.

When you pulled your dick out of his asshole, you saw the reddened, stretched hole pitifully contract and relax as if breathing, unable to close properly. The clear lube smearing his ass and dripping down his balls made you regret wearing a condom for a moment, wishing it were your cum making such a mess out of the red wolf, but after a moment of thought, not having hurt him was a much better outcome. After all, like this, you could happily go for another round…

[motherismotheringggg]

rhythm & heat

summary: you and nicholas are co-stars in a fun and innocent PR relationship, the chemistry was already there so it just feels natural but something shifts when you, him and cast go out.

type: fem! reader x nicholas (i tried add some of Nicholas’ POV per my friend’s suggestion, it’ll be in red to stand out)

tags/warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (m! receiving), unprotected sex (wrap your willy yall) and creampie

author’s note: i’m having sooooo much fun writing again so thanks to everyone who’s been encouraging me to do it. i used to write in college and now that im 27 (almost 28 in january) it’s good to get back into it. i wanted to do something while im working on slow burn pt. 3 so i hope yall like it!!!!

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

The bass pulsed through the club, sending ripples of heat and sound through the packed dance floor. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting an electric glow over the scene as bodies moved in sync with the music. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that made everyone buzz with energy, like something wild could happen at any moment.

You and your co-star, Nicholas Chavez, were out celebrating the wrap of the second season—a well-deserved break after months of filming. The first season had been a hit, with fans and critics alike praising your performances and the chemistry you brought to your characters. And of course, that chemistry hadn’t gone unnoticed. Rumors about the two of you had been swirling since the first season, with fans speculating about what might be going on off-camera.

And they weren’t completely off. Your and Nicholas’s teams had decided that hinting at a romance would be the perfect, harmless way to build buzz for the next season. You weren’t usually one for gimmicks, but you both thought it’d be fun, and honestly, with the chemistry you two shared on screen, the idea didn’t feel far-fetched. Playing at “dating” off-screen just felt natural.

There were moments on set where the boundary between acting and reality seemed to blur. In one particularly intense scene, you and Nicholas’s character finished having sex and his hands roamed in a way that made sense for the character but caught you off guard, you leaned in to commit to the scene but you remember leaving the set that day with your heart fluttering.

Off set, at interviews and press events, the playful banter you shared made the rumors almost impossible to deny. During one red carpet appearance, when a reporter asked what Nicholas liked best about working with you, he leaned close and, in a low voice, said, “She makes me forget we’re acting.” The reporters loved it, and you could feel your cheeks warm under the spotlight.

Even your off-duty moments seemed to fuel the rumors. You remembered the night you and Nicholas went to see Sabrina Carpenter in concert and to avoid the crowds, you were escorted through hidden elevators in the arena. One of the elevators was especially small, so when you were pushed inside with security guards and crew, space was tight. Somehow, you ended up in the back corner, pressed chest to chest with Nicholas, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer.

When you joked about it later, he laughed, claiming he was just “making room” for everyone. But you couldn’t ignore the way his hand lingered at your waist during the two-minute ride—or how, when you shifted to get more comfortable, you felt his hardness through his jeans.

There were countless other moments and with another press run coming up, it just felt like you were still both “in character” all the time but for tonight, you just wanted to dance, let loose, and get ready for another thrilling media cycle. You, Nicholas and a few costars decided to go out to a boiler room club in the city. None of you had planned on playing into the rumors tonight, but as the crowd grew, Nicholas slipped into “boyfriend” mode without a second thought. His hand found your waist, guiding you through the crowd; he held your hand, lingered close, and let his touches drift to intimate places whenever you danced or laughed together.

The night felt electric. Drinks flowed freely, adding a warm edge to the pulsing bass that reverberated through the walls and floor. Your group had claimed a private section overlooking the dance floor, with a perfect view of the swirling neon lights below. Fans would catch glimpses of you and the cast, looking up with wide smiles, waving, and cheering to show their love. Some even made heart shapes with their hands or mouthed “We love you” as they danced. Every now and then, Nicholas would slide his arm around your waist, pulling you close for a quick fan photo or to lean in as he spoke over the music, his breath grazing your ear.

Nicholas could hardly keep his eyes off you. Even in the chaos of the club, you stood out—like a spark in the dark, drawing him in. The energy around you, the way you moved, the way you threw back your head to laugh at something your friend said… it made his chest feel tight. He’d been watching you for a while now, unable to shake the feeling that tonight was different.

At first, it was all casual, harmless fun. But as the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, you couldn’t help but notice a shift. Nicholas’s touches lingered a little longer, his fingers resting at your waist even when the picture was done or the conversation had shifted. The way he looked at you changed too—his gaze softened, his words slower, and his attention focused entirely on you, despite the crowd around you both.

When the group began to dance, he stayed close, his hand brushing yours, fingers grazing along your arm, almost as if testing the waters. As the music thumped, he moved nearer, his chest pressing lightly against your back, his hand slipping down to rest at your hip. Every touch, every shared laugh, felt charged, and you could feel the tension building in each small gesture. You’d been close to him before, but this was different—the alcohol, the music, the night itself seemed to bring out something more raw.

His thoughts became a blur of want, fueled by the subtle way your lips parted as you looked up at him. The pull was irresistible, drawing him closer as he traced his fingers along the small of your back, letting his thumb graze your hip in a possessive but tender gesture. He was intoxicated, not just by the alcohol but by you, by the way you felt so effortlessly right in his arms.

As you danced, his heartbeat quickened, his breaths shallow and erratic. He wondered if you knew what you were doing to him—how just being close to you made it feel impossible to think straight. Every touch, every whisper, was like fuel to a fire that had been smoldering since the moment he’d met you. He couldn't ignore it any longer, the way you’d somehow slipped beneath his skin. He wanted all of you—the quick wit, the mischievous grin, the soft vulnerability he saw in your eyes in quieter moments on set. And tonight, he wanted you in a way that left no room for pretense or careful boundaries.

You two were dancing face to face, the music vibrating through your chest as you moved in sync. Nicholas leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a jolt of heat through your body. His voice was low and smooth, a touch playful, as he whispered, “How’s my girl feeling tonight?”

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you in closer, pressing your bodies together as if there was any space left between you two. You could feel the solid muscle of his chest against yours, the strength in his arms as they wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment. The heat of his touch lingered where his fingers gently grazed the curve of your waist, sending a wave of electricity through your skin.

You were attracted to Nicholas, no doubt about it. Up close, he was all intense, striking features that seemed made for this low, pulsing light. His deep-set brown eyes held a mischievous spark, the kind that always kept you guessing and a little on edge, even when the cameras weren’t rolling. His jawline was sharp, almost sculpted, and as he looked down at you, the soft stubble along it caught the neon glow, adding an edge to his otherwise boyish charm.

As you looked up, his tousled dark hair fell a bit across his forehead, framing his face in a way that softened his piercing gaze. His lips, full and inviting, curled into a subtle smirk as he looked at you, as though he knew exactly what kind of effect he had. You felt his fingers shift at your waist, his thumb tracing small, almost hypnotic circles against your hip, bringing a flush to your skin.

Despite the undeniable attraction, you hesitated to lean into whatever Nicholas was offering. Playing “relationship” was fun, but you knew getting involved with a co-star was a risky move. You flashed him a playful smirk, your voice teasing as you responded, “Your co-star is doing fine.” You took a small step back, creating just enough space to break the intensity between you two. But it wasn’t enough to stop the flirtation—you secretly hoped he’d pull you right back in.

He wasn’t having any of it. “Stop playing with me,” Nicholas groaned, his voice taking on that low, almost dangerous tone you couldn’t ignore. He leaned back down, his face just inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You know I want you.”

His words sent a thrill coursing through you, the heat of his breath making your pulse race. Despite the hesitation, you could feel your body betraying you, urging you to close the space between you two again. His head lingered by your ear, his lips brushing against your skin, just barely a touch, sending a spark through you. Before you could pull back, his lips grazed the sensitive spot near your neck, planting soft, lingering “innocent” kisses.

The kisses were feather-light, almost teasing, yet each one felt like a jolt of electricity. They were gentle but purposeful, just enough to make your knees weaken and your womanhood tremble. His closeness, the warmth of his skin against yours, was intoxicating, and with every soft kiss, you found yourself craving more.

With a few sharp breaths and low moans, he knew he had you. The sound of his name on your lips, barely above a whisper, was all the confirmation he needed. You tilted your head to the side, offering him your neck, giving him full access to your skin. His hands, on your waist, pulling you even closer, his body flush against yours.

He didn’t hold back. His lips moved with confidence now, kissing the delicate curve of your neck with more urgency. Each kiss was deeper and more insistent, the pressure of his mouth leaving a trail of heat and need in its wake. His tongue darted out, tracing the sensitive skin beneath your ear, sending a shiver of desire straight through your body.

You could feel him smiling against your skin, sensing the way your body responded to his touch—how you instinctively leaned into him, drawn to the heat between you. His hands, bold and sure, roamed lower, the pads of his fingers grazing the curve of your back, sending a shiver of pleasure through you. The sensation was soft at first but quickly turned more intense, his touch growing bolder, more confident with each passing second. Every moment between you two felt like a slow burn, the anticipation building as his lips trailed over the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

Then, when he shifted, you felt it—his hardness brushing against your thigh. The contact sent a wave of heat straight through you, an electric shock that heightened every nerve in your body. It was enough to make your pulse race, enough to make you realize how much you wanted him in that moment.

Without thinking, you reached down, your fingers gently grazing over the fabric of his pants, feeling the outline of him. The pressure of his body against yours, the growing heat between you two, made you want more—made you want to make him feel just as desperate for you as you felt for him.

You could feel the quickening of his breath, the way his chest rose and fell against yours. A low groan rumbled from his throat as you continued to trace his length, every brush of your fingers sending a thrill through both of you. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer, as though he couldn’t get enough of you either.

Without another moment passing, Nicholas grabbed your hand, his fingers tight around yours, pulling you through the crowded space. He moved with purpose, guiding you down the secret hallway the cast used to get into the club, away from the prying eyes and flashing lights. Each step seemed to quicken the pulse between you, the anticipation building with every turn. You felt his grip firm on your hand, but also the heat radiating off him, as though he couldn't wait any longer.

With just a few more steps, you found yourselves in the private dead-end hallway. It was dim, secluded—perfectly private. Before you could process what was happening, Nicholas had you pressed up against the cold wall, his body pinning you in place. The urgency in his movements left no room for hesitation as he slammed his lips onto yours, the kiss fierce, demanding. His mouth claimed yours with a hunger that mirrored your own, lips moving against each other as if he couldn’t get enough.

His hands weren’t idle either. One moved to your waist, gripping you tightly as if to keep you exactly where he wanted you, while the other traveled lower, finding its way to the waistband of your panties. His touch was deliberate and heated, and in an instant, his hand slipped beneath the fabric. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin just above them, the contact sending a shock of heat straight through you.

You gasped into his mouth, the electricity of his touch overwhelming, making every part of you ache for more. His fingers continued to tease, moving with slow, deliberate pressure, testing the limits of your restraint. He continued to rub and massage your sweet spot while you moaned and squirmed against his kiss. He pulled away just enough to watch you under his power.

From his vantage, you were a vision—utterly captivating in every response. He loved the way your eyes fluttered closed, only to open halfway, trying to find his gaze but faltering under the intense pleasure he was giving you. The way your teeth sank into your lip, trying to hold back the sounds you couldn’t suppress, only spurred him on. Each flick of his fingers brought a fresh wave of moans and whines, soft and breathy, laced with his name in barely-contained pleas. Hearing you beg him to take things further, to lose himself with you completely, made him feel invincible. He knew he had you right where he wanted, and he was savoring every moment.

You planted one last, deep kiss on his lips before sinking to your knees in front of him, never breaking eye contact. Nicholas’ gaze darkened, his breath catching slightly as he watched you with a mixture of anticipation and hunger. Your hands moved with urgency, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, your fingers grazing over the heat radiating from his body. As you freed him, he let out a soft groan, his gaze fixed on you, filled with both awe and impatience.

His hands instinctively found their way to your hair, tangling in it gently as you looked up at him, the connection between you electric and unspoken. The way he was watching you—intense, with a mix of excitement and restraint—made your pulse race. His pupils were dilated, his breathing uneven, and you could see the anticipation building in his expression as he waited, every part of him attuned to your next move.

As you leaned closer, he tightened his grip, his fingers brushing against your scalp, guiding you but letting you set the pace. You started slow, savoring every moment, every reaction, feeling his muscles tense and hearing his breaths turn to low, needy moans. His chest rose and fell heavily as he fought to keep control, his head tilting back slightly as he surrendered to your touch, murmuring your name in a rough, breathy tone that only made you want him more.

Every time you paused to swirl your tongue around his tip, Nicholas' whole body tensed, his breathing turning shallow as he let out a low, drawn-out hiss. The sound of your name on his lips, mixed with whispered curses, filled the air. He couldn’t help himself, alternating between breathless moans and deep, husky praises. “God, you’re such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with a raw, admiring intensity. “You look so beautiful taking me like this.”

With each word, his grip in your hair tightened just enough to keep you where he wanted. His hands were steady, yet you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers as his need for you grew. Finally, he held your head in both hands, his gaze locked on yours, guiding you with a slow, deliberate motion. He pushed himself deeper, filling your mouth as his hips rocked in rhythm, pressing him to the back of your throat. The sounds escaping him were desperate yet controlled, each ragged breath carrying his satisfaction.

“Look at me, baby,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a breathy, gruff murmur, thick with desire. “Let me see those pretty eyes.” His gaze was commanding yet filled with an undeniable admiration, and as you met his eyes, he let out a deep, shuddering breath, fully captivated by the sight of you. The connection between you was intense, wordlessly conveying his appreciation for everything you were giving him, every shiver and sigh pulling him closer to the edge.

Your throat tightened slightly as you tried to take all of him, a small gag escaping despite your best efforts. Nicholas chuckled softly, a low, satisfied sound, and his hand moved to gently tap your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a subtle affection that made your heart race. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, pride evident in his tone.

His hands slid down to your shoulders, pulling you up to meet him, and the moment your lips touched, he captured you in a deep, consuming kiss. It was passionate, full of hunger and appreciation, and he groaned against your mouth, relishing in the taste of you. He leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes filled with a soft, smoldering intensity. “You did so good, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough yet tender. “You looked so perfect, taking me in… just like I always knew you could.”

Each word sent a wave of warmth through you, and his hands stayed on your hips, grounding you, his gaze never straying from yours. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, still swollen from your efforts, his gaze filled with both desire and genuine admiration as he traced your features, savoring every moment and every breath shared between you.

Nicholas could feel the anticipation radiating off you, your body responding to his every touch and move. He knew just how much you wanted him, and he wanted to give you everything you craved. With deliberate slowness, he turned you around, pressing you gently forward. His hands slid up your thighs as he lifted the hem of your dress, savoring the soft, heated skin beneath. In one fluid motion, he pulled down your panties, his lips still trailing along your neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of warm, lingering kisses that made your breath quicken. He groaned into your ear, his voice low and thick with desire, reveling in the way your back arched, your body silently pleading for more.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. His hands roamed over your hips as he positioned himself behind you, letting his tip trace over your folds, teasing you until you were trembling in his grasp. The first sensation of him entering you made your breath catch, a shudder running through both of you as he filled you, slow and deep. You instinctively moved in sync, bodies finding a perfect rhythm, every thrust sending a wave of pleasure through you.

Nicholas buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in rough, heated gasps as he lost himself in the moment, savoring every pulse and movement of your body against his. You reached back, threading your fingers into his hair, giving it a gentle tug, and he let out a breathless whimper—a sound that only made you ache for him more. His need to be in control fueled you, but there was something thrilling in the way he let you pull him back, every now and then, giving you the slightest taste of control.

You guided one of his hands from your hip, pressing it down between your legs. He understood immediately, his fingers finding and massaging that sensitive spot, adding another layer of intensity to your connection. He quickly obliged, his touch skilled and deliberate, and you felt yourself unraveling under the dual sensations, every nerve heightened, every thought fading into pure, unfiltered bliss.

Nicholas’s pace quickened, and with every movement, he brought an intensity that made you lose yourself further with each second. His hands roamed your body, seeking out every place that could make you unravel under his touch. One moment he’d slap your ass, and in the next, his fingers wrapped around your neck, adding a delicious pressure that only heightened the sensations. He reached between your legs, his fingers brushing against your heat, before gently tilting your head, exposing more of your neck so he could plant hungry, open-mouthed kisses there. The air around you both grew hotter, more electric, and you could feel that familiar pressure building, bringing you both to the brink.

He leaned into your ear, his voice thick with need, a hint of desperation woven into it. “I want to cum for you, baby,” he breathed. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

Your voice came out in a shaky whisper, overcome by the sensations he was giving you. “Let’s do it together. I’m so close,” you pleaded, feeling yourself hovering right at the edge. His thrusts stayed steady but powerful, his head buried against your neck, breaths hitching and moans deepening. His grip on your hips tightened, guiding your body to match his rhythm perfectly, every stroke hitting deeper, more intense.

Nicholas, always the performer, could feel just how close you were, but he wanted to hear it. His voice was a low, teasing growl. “Tell me how much you want me, baby,” he commanded. “Tell me how good this feels… tell me who you belong to.” With each demand, his movements became more forceful, every stroke making you lose control a bit more.

He was close too, a raw intensity filling each thrust, and just before the finish, he grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling your head back to make sure he felt every shudder of your response.

“Are you ready, baby?” he gasped, his tone shaky as he was right on the edge. You tried to say his name, but the feeling was so intense, it came out as a breathless, pleading sound. You nodded, barely able to form words as your body responded, every nerve lit up as you both finally reached your climax.

As he spilled into you, the sensation sent waves of warmth through your entire body, making you moan out, your voice just barely above a whisper but full of satisfaction. Your body shuddered, every nerve still singing from the overwhelming release.

Even as you tried to catch your breath, he gave you a few more slow, teasing thrusts, drawing out every last tremor until you were completely undone. Each lingering movement kept you in the moment, his body still pressed firmly against yours, leaving you weak and trembling beneath him.

A satisfied smirk played across his lips as he felt you react, your legs shaking as his hands traveled slowly up your sides, grounding you through the aftershocks. He murmured in your ear, his voice low and full of pride, "You’re so fucking hot when you cum...just like I always imagined" His fingers traced gentle circles along your waist, savoring how soft you felt under his touch.

With a final, breathless sigh, you turned to face him, pressing your forehead to his as he caught his breath, his thumb grazing softly over your cheek.You both stayed like that, basking in the warmth between you, as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, leaving soft kisses along your shoulder and neck, his way of savoring every last moment.

[lomlando]

skin || GR63

summary: the last person you expect to see at home for holiday break is your childhood rival, George Russell

content warnings: mild language

word count: 3.4 k

pairing: george russell x reader

a/n: can summer break be over already

Home for the holidays. Same old familiar faces and places. There was a certain comfort in it for sure-this year especially. You had always wanted to work in London, in the hustle and bustle of the city, and, in January, you had finally gotten that chance. What you didn’t expect was just how busy you were going to be. In the 11 months you had lived there, you had only been able to make the 2 ½ hour drive back to Norfolk once. 

You walked the familiar road to the familiar, small corner shop you have always shopped at. You enter in and mindlessly give a small head nod to the man behind the counter, just as you have done for years now. You head the the candy first, then drinks, then just wander the small store. You didn’t come in with a game plan on what to buy-you just wanted out of the house. You really just wanted to make the trek into town, walk the familiar roads just in case you had forgotten the way, just to make sure you hadn’t. Mindlessly, you turn around the corner to the candy aisle again, finally deciding on a curly wurly, and that's when you almost run smack into him. George Russell.

You hadn’t seen George in years at this point. You were once close, as children. Your families are friends. He was always around: at your birthday parties, random dinner parties, even at your birth-there was still a picture in both of your parents’ houses of one-year-old George with one-day-old you sat perfectly in his lap. From that day on, you two were inseparable. You thought of George as an older brother. From birthday parties to day school, you two were constantly playing with each other, protecting each other.

Something changed, though, when he turned 15. Everything suddenly became a competition. Innocent kart races turned into intense bumper car sessions to keep you from winning, grades suddenly mattered to him, dinner parties became a competition of who could finish their food the fastest, and Super Mario Brothers turned into intense yelling matches. Fourteen-year-old you didn’t know what happened, what had changed seemingly overnight. His mom blamed it on puberty. Your mom blamed you for it, she was-and still is-convinced you had to have said something to make him turn. She never wanted to believe that her once sweet, bonus child could be mean. 

As you both got older from that point on, the rivalry grew into something bigger. Suddenly, the little victories like who won in Mario Kart didn’t matter. You were both chasing bigger, more important victories. Victories that ‘mattered’ in the long run, like who got into the better university, who lost their virginity first, who would be more fun at parties- all of which George had won. Even now, you can admit, George had won in life, in general. Everywhere you turned, it seemed you saw a new picture of his perfect smile. He was on podium after podium in his races. He was a multimillionaire. The last you heard from his mom, he had a beautiful, serious girlfriend. 

But what was he doing standing here, in front of you, at the corner shop? George hadn’t been home in at least 3 years. He would spend his holidays and time off either alone or with his girlfriend’s family. Any time he wanted to see his parents, he would simply fly them out to Monaco or whatever grand prix he was at. You weren’t entirely sure he even remembered Norfolk existed from what his parents seldom told you about his life. 

Your parents’ were still friends, in fact, they were closer than ever since his family bought a house two doors down from yours. They were over at least once a month for dinner, even more often for a simple wine and gossip night. The more often they came around, the less George was mentioned. His parents learned quickly that giving you life updates about him once a month just made your life a living hell. You hated hearing about how well he was doing, how he was winning life, and you were simply still living with your parents, doing freelance work, waiting it out for your dream life in London to, maybe, one day hit. Still, every once in a while, his mom would tell you an update in his life after one too many glasses of wine. 

Truthfully, no one was more excited for you to leave Norfolk than George’s mom. She was always rooting for you, for what she knew was your dream. She would send you job openings every time she saw one. When you finally landed the job, she was the first one you told, the first one to congratulate you, the first one to offer to help you move. You weren’t sure if she had mentioned it to George, if she gave him updates on your life as she did his. You almost hope she hadn’t. You were already so behind George in life that he would just see it as a centimeter in the right direction, but never a full step in even coming close to beating him. You were sure he already looked down on you, what did it matter if it was just a little bit better of a life-reality was right, you weren’t beating him. 

Part of you wanted to turn back around, to retreat to the drink aisle like a skilled spy that would never be seen or heard. The other part of you, though, really had their mind set on a curly wurly and could see George eyeing the last one on the shelf. Why not the best of both worlds then? You reach your hand right in front of George’s face and grab the candy, then quickly turn and disappear to the next aisle, hopefully before he has time to think about the rude person who just cut him off for a candy bar. Before you could get even halfway down the next aisle, you hear quick footsteps behind you. 

Shit. 

You really didn’t know why you thought you could get away without him seeing you, why you would think he wouldn’t track down the person who just rudely shoved their hand in his face for a piece of candy. But suddenly, the footsteps stop. You do too, instinctively, hoping and wishing he maybe had gotten distracted by his favorite drink on the wall, and not that he recognized your hair. 

Then he says it, your name. For the first time in years. He had stopped calling you by your actual name years ago, when your relationship had twisted. Since then, it had become whatever insult he could think to call you at that moment. You don’t know what it was, if it was instinct to turn when someone called you, or if you were so surprised to hear George Russell say your name again after all these years, but you do know that you are now facing him in the aisle. 

“Did you just reach your hand in front of my face to get that?” He says, clearly annoyed, pointing at the candy in your hand. 

“Yeah, so?”

“So? Did you consider how rude that is? I was literally about to grab it.”

“Hmm, yeah. But you were too slow, so now it's mine.” You say, flashing him a smile. It felt nice, it was a small victory, but a victory nevertheless. 

Before George could get out another comment, your phone starts ringing loudly. 

Jack.

You answer it. “Hey, Jack.” You say, as George starts moving towards you with every intent of catching you off guard to steal back the candy in your hand, you are sure of it. Just as he is about to reach for it, you stuff it in the front pocket of the jeans you are wearing, knowing he wouldn’t be so bold as to reach for it there. “Yeah, that's fine. See you then!” You say hanging up the phone with a smile. George is still standing beside you, arms crossed. 

“Who’s Jack?” he asks. Before you could answer, really before you could even open your mouth, he added, “Your boyfriend?” There was a tinge of something in his voice. Intrigue? Confusion? Jealousy? You couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but you did know you had one small victory currently melting in your pants; might as well try and go for two in one day. 

“Yes, he is.” You say as you walk to the counter, eager to pay and be on your way back home. 

“He’s coming to eat this weekend with us?” George shoots you a look. You shoot him a confused one back. What did he mean eat with us this weekend? “You know, our parents, us, going to eat? Did your parents not tell you?” 

“Oh yeah, Jack will be there. He’s finishing up work in London and then coming.” You said grabbing your change and heading out the door. 

Jack was not coming to the dinner. Jack was also not in any way, shape, or form, your boyfriend. Jack was your 60-year-old neighbor back in London. You had entrusted him, really his wife, to watch your cat and flat where you were back home. It just so happened he and his wife came home from biking and saw you had a package, and wondered if you wanted them to take it inside for you. 

Much to your surprise, and demise, George exits the corner shop with you, taking up space beside you. 

“So, how long have you and Jack been dating?” He says, looking over at you. 

“A few months now.” You say, keeping your head forward, looking at the road in front of you. You were beginning to wonder how you found yourself in the situation; all you wanted when you left the house earlier was a peaceful 20 minutes away from your parents. Now here you were, walking home with the boy you had given up hope of ever seeing again. 

For a few minutes, you both walked on in silence. It wasn’t one of those silences that feels right, that felt agreed upon-no, this one was awkward, like neither of you wanted to pry into each other’s lives even though you both know you wanted to. 

“So you and your girlfriend are pretty serious, I hear.” You say, desperately wanting to break the silence, even if it meant you had to hear about George’s win in the love life category. 

“Yeah, we were.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, we broke up a few weeks ago,” George says nonchalantly, or what you can tell he wants to be perceived as. You weren’t stupid, and you also weren’t deaf. His mom had told you time and time again that he felt like she was the one, that he was looking for rings, that she was his endgame. They had been dating for at least 3 years now, you knew it wasn’t something that was broken up lightly, no matter how he said it. 

“I just-I just couldn’t bring myself to buy her a ring. I tried time and time again, and just could never hit send. I took that as a sign and ended it.” He added, now a lot less nonchalant, like he had never said it out loud before. He was stopped in place, now fully facing you in the middle of the road, like he was searching for reassurance from you that he had made the right decision and he hadn’t ruined something special. 

Even if you had thought that he made the wrong decision-which truthfully you did- after all, you heard the way his mom talked about her; you knew she was a special girl and perfectly right for him. He would never need to know that. You enjoyed watching him break down, crumble, even if it was just a little bit. You felt like maybe something in his life was finally not going his way, like perfect George Russell finally had something bothering him. 

“Yeah, that seems like a baseline want for marriage.” You said as you started walking again. He was still paused, as if he didn’t believe you agreed with him. 

You didn’t wait for him, you just kept on walking, hoping he might have turned into a statue and you could finally enjoy the rest of the walk home in peace. It didn’t last for very long; within 30 seconds, George was right beside you again, slowing down to match your walking pace. The rest of the walk was in silence. Once again, not the good type. This time it did feel different, though, like both of you had silently agreed to not ask any more questions, to not dig up feelings, even though you both knew you both wanted to. 

You finally stop at the walkway to your house. Much to your dismay, so does George. You both stand there in silence for what seems like minutes, although it was likely only a few seconds. 

“So, I’ll see you this weekend,” and with that, George walked away and finally left you alone. 

This weekend came sooner than expected. You had spent the rest of the week at home, spending time with your parents, rarely venturing outside. Maybe you were a little scared that George was going to be standing at the door when you opened it. One thing was certain in your mind, though: you needed to get your whole ‘boyfriend Jack’ story straight before his parents and he arrived in less than an hour.

You and Jack met at work-easy-he’s sure to believe that. He started work a few months after you, and you were tasked with welcoming him to the office space. He asked you out first, after only two weeks of working together, a little quick? Maybe, but if the rest of the timeline was going to fall into place, it needed to be quick. You had been dating for 4 months. Most importantly, Jack can’t come tonight because something came up at work and he needs to work late. Perfect, full-proof timeline. 

“The Rusells are here! Come on!” Perfect timing. 

You come into the common area where they are. Both of George’s parents engulfed you in a hug, both muttering about how much they had missed you and how wine nights had been so boring without you there. But then George’s mom holds you out at arm's length. 

“George was telling me your boyfriend was coming tonight.” fuck george. You hadn’t even thought about the possibility that you were going to have to explain Jack to your parents and his. You thought you could just mention it in passing to him out the door, if he had even still remembered. 

“Boyfriend?” Your mom asks, surprised. You look over at George, who is now smiling like a sly fox; he's enjoying this. 

You try and stifle out a short laugh. “Surprise,” You say, albeit a lot more awkwardly than you had heard it in your head. 

For the next five minutes, all of the attention is on you. You answer questions from your parents just as you had rehearsed thirty minutes ago. 

Where did you meet? Work.

Is he your supervisor? Nope. 

How long have you been dating? Four months. 

Why isn’t he coming tonight? Work. 

It all fell into place like the last piece of a puzzle. Both his and your parents were 100% convinced that you had a boyfriend. Not exactly what you had planned, but if it made it more believable, then why complain? 

“Isn’t our reservation soon?” George says, groaning while standing up. He was clearly annoyed. 

“Yeah, we probably should get going.” Your dad says, looking down at his watch. 

“I had to get my shoes on.” You say as you excuse yourself back to your room. 

You instinctively close the door behind you. Which is fine because that means you can at least show a little celebration. You practically skip over to your shoes and put them on. You had finally made George annoyed, broken down at least one brick in his perfect foundation. You can’t hold your excitement in as you skip back over to the door and swing it open.

Only to see George staring back at you. 

“Your mom asked me to come make sure you were okay since Jack isn’t coming anymore, but I guess you are just fine.” 

He stared at you with an eyebrow slightly raised. Was he onto you? George had always had a way of getting to the truth with you. It's like he was constantly in your head. Before you could even say the lie you had come up with on the spot, that you were definitely not happily skipping to the door and had accidentally tripped while going to open it, George pushed past you and into your room. He went straight to a shelf you had hanging by your desk-you knew exactly what he was looking at. 

On the shelf hung his GP3 championship medal. You had ‘won’ the rights to it fair and square. George had sworn up and down he would not win it-had absolutely no confidence in himself. No one could help him, no matter how much his parents, Mercades, and his friends tried; no one could get it through his head that he was a great racer. He was so close to dropping out of the race. That’s when you were asked to help convince him by his parents.

Please, he’ll listen to you, they said. 

You were almost certain he would not, but somehow, you had been able to convince him to still race. In the multiple talks you two had, you had said something along the lines of I’m so confident you will win, I call keeping the medal. You hadn’t ever remembered saying it, but the day of the race, George had. You’ll never forget him throwing it at you after the race, yelling that it was yours now.

“You still have this? I can’t believe you kept it after all of these years.” George says as he takes the medal off of the shelf. 

“Why would I get rid of it?” 

George put the medal back and turned back to you. “You hate me?” He said it as if it were the most matter-of-fact thing ever said. 

You didn’t hate George, not even close. Did you not like him sometimes (most times), yes. But no matter how much you and George fought, or didn’t see each other, you still couldn’t help but imagine you two as the two little best friends you once were. It hurt you that he assumed you had hated him. 

“Why would I hate you?” 

“All of those years we spent fighting?” At this point, George was right in front of you, staring down at you. 

“It was years ago,” You say with a shrug, moving to the side. Hopeful to get back to the door. 

George grabs you back, though, and in a swift motion, brings your lips to his. You didn’t pull back, you didn’t try to dodge it. You deepened it. Little you would be jumping for joy, teenage you would be cringing, but you right now-thought it just felt right. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” George says, finally breaking the kiss himself. “You have a boyfriend, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that.” He moves towards your door. 

Before your mind could think, your body moved to stand between him and the door. “I don’t”

George took a step back, “Jack?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “Look, Jack is just my happily married neighbor back in London. I was lying. I just thought I could maybe, finally, try to get under you skin a little.” 

George just froze. His eyes searching yours. As if he was silently begging for you to promise him that you were for sure telling the truth this time. You stood there frozen too, scared of what was to come next-the anger or sadness of being blantly lied too. But anger or sadness didn’t come out. 

Instead, without another word, George just crashed his lips into yours again.

[meazalykov]

new family

barcelona femení x kika nazareth x reader

summary: if your family cannot accept you for who you are, your new family will.

warnings: homophobia mentions, coming out, angst, comfort, very long fic

your new home.

the first time you step foot in barcelona, it feels like an entirely new world. at just nineteen, you've been given a rare opportunity to live across the atlantic ocean, far from home, far from the familiar comforts of family and friends to play for the best club in women’s football as a defender. 

it's thrilling, this chance to explore yourself and form your own ideas without the weight of your past or family pulling you back. but it’s also terrifying, since you have to build your social life from the ground up.

the team welcomes you warmly, and before long, you feel like you’re a part of something special– a new family. 

you bond quickly with your teammates, and learn your new rhythm of life in spain. 

but to you there's one person who stands out more than the others—kika, the newest player at barcelona. she's full of life, happy, with a laugh that makes your heart race and a smile that lights up even the darkest days.

at first, you don't understand why you're drawn to her the way you are. 

you’ve had crushes before, but this feels different, for many reasons.

your last crushes were on men, many years ago during your middle school days. 

the feelings you have for kika are more intense, more real. 

you find yourself watching her during training, lingering in her presence, and feeling a flutter in your chest whenever she talks to you. she asks you to be her partner during drills, and you always accept. 

the whole thing is confusing, overwhelming, and a little scary, but also something you can’t ignore.

as the days turn into weeks and the weeks into months, your feelings for kika grow stronger. it hits you one evening when you’re both sitting on the blue barcelona benches after a late training session, the sky painted with the soft hues of an orange spanish sunset. 

kika is talking about her family back home in portugal, her eyes sparkling with fondness, and you realize that you don’t just like kika—you’re Infatuated with her. in that moment, everything clicks into place.

you’re a lesbian.

it’s a realization that shakes you to your core, but also feels like a puzzle piece finally falling into place. 

for the first time, you truly understand who you are, and it’s liberating. 

you begin to accept it, slowly, carefully, letting the idea settle in your mind. it’s a part of you, a part that you hadn’t fully understood until now.

kika, oblivious to the storm of emotions inside you, continues to talk, and you smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. you don’t know when it happens exactly, but one day, she looks at you in a way that’s different from before—softer, more intimate—and you realize she feels the same. 

it’s subtle at first, a brush of hands, a shared look that lingers a little too long, until one night after el clasico when you invite her over to your apartment, she kisses you.

it’s everything you’ve imagined and more—soft, sweet, and filled with love. 

you pull back, breathless, staring into her eyes with a mix of disbelief and joy. 

“is this okay?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, and you nod, too overwhelmed to speak.

“yeah, it’s more than okay,” you finally manage, and she smiles, pulling you into another kiss, this one deeper, more assured. it’s the beginning of something beautiful, something that feels right.

it’s a crisp evening in january in munich, the air buzzing with the electric energy that only a champions league match can bring. 

the stands are packed, fans draped in blaugrana, but with german red as well. 

their cheers and chants echoing through the stadium. you’re on the pitch, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you face off against bayern munich, the intensity of the match pushing you to your limits.

the game has been tight, both teams fighting fiercely for dominance on the field. 

you’ve been giving it your all, weaving through defenders, pressing high, stopping german forwards, creating chances, but the breakthrough hasn’t come yet. 

the score is still 0-0, and you know that one goal for barcelona could change everything in the group stage match.

then, it happens.

a perfectly timed pass from alexia sends the ball back to your foot, just outside the box and after the halfway line. 

as a defender, you notice gaps. bayern had a huge gap where you could launch the ball towards the goal– the only risk being their goalkeeper blocking it. 

you take a quick touch, setting yourself up, and without hesitation, you strike. the ball sails through the air, spinning towards the top corner, and for a split second, time seems to slow down. 

the breath in your lungs were held, watching as the bayern goalkeeper dives, her fingertips brushing the ball—but it’s not enough.

the ball hits the back of the net.

for a moment, there’s silence, as if the entire stadium is holding its breath. 

then the roar of the away crowd erupts around you, deafening and exhilarating, and you feel a rush of pure, unfiltered joy. 

you did it. you scored in the champions league.

as a centre back, this hasn’t happened with you much.

your teammates rush towards you after you put your hands up in joy, their faces alight with excitement and pride. 

you’re grinning so wide it hurts, your heart pounding in your chest as they surround you, offering high-fives, smacks on the back, and hugs. 

but it’s kika who reaches you last, on purpose– her eyes shining with a mix of awe and love.

before you can say anything, she’s wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. 

you can feel her heart beating just as fast as yours, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “you were amazing, y/n.”

and then, without a second thought, she presses a soft kiss to your cheek. it’s a sweet, tender gesture, full of affection and pride, and it sends a warm flush spreading through your entire body. the kiss lingers, her lips soft against your skin, and you can’t help the way your heart skips a beat at the contact.

her words stick to you. she didn’t mention the goal, she said that you were good.

you pull back slightly, just enough to see the wide smile on her face, and you’re sure you’re blushing, but you don’t care. 

“thank you,” you murmur, your voice soft, almost shy.

the moment doesn’t go unnoticed. your teammates who got back in their positions start to giggle and cheer, their voices playful as they take in the scene. 

“look at that!” ewa teases, a wide grin on her face. “our goal scorer’s getting some extra love.”

ona, who’s always quick with a quip, sidles up beside you, her eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“y/n, you’re so in love it’s written all over your cute face.”

you glance at kika, who watched you with that same soft smile before setting herself up for the game, and you know you can’t deny it. 

not when you feel like this—so happy, so content, so in love. you shrug, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you meet ona’s gaze. “i can’t help it,” you say, your voice full of warmth. “she’s kind of hard to resist.”

the match continues, but that moment stays with you—etched into your memory as one of the sweetest, most genuine moments of your life. and as the whistle blows on the field again, you can’t help but feeling like you’ve won twice in one evening.

being with your girlfriend is like a dream. she’s everything you could have hoped for in a partner—kind, understanding, and so full of love that it makes your heart swell just thinking about her. 

your teammates notice the change in you, the way you light up whenever kika is around, and they’re happy for you. 

alexia, your captain and neighbor, is especially supportive, always there with a knowing smile or a gentle word of encouragement.

living next door to alexia and her girlfriend, olga, has its perks. 

the two of them have taken you under their wing from the moment you arrived, treating you like a little sister. alexia is the kind of leader who leads by example, and she’s always there to guide you, both on and off the pitch. her and olga’s relationship is something you look up to.

you spend countless nights at their apartment, talking about life advice, football, and everything in between. 

alexia is your rock, she is the goat to everyone but to you she is another sister. someone you can lean on when things get tough, and olga is like another mother figure, always ready with a joke to lighten the mood, help you with dinner, or a hug when you need it most.

it’s during one of these late-night conversations that you find the courage to tell alexia about your true feelings for kika. 

she listens intently, her eyes full of understanding, and when you’re done, she smiles softly. 

“i’m proud of you, y/n,” she says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “i am happy that you’re being true to yourself– i had to go through the same thing. you and kika compliment each other very well.”

her words give you the strength you need to take the next step—to come out to your family. 

it’s something you’ve been dreading, but you know it’s something you have to do. so, one evening, you call them, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for someone to pick up.

your mother answers first, her voice warm and familiar, and for a moment, you almost back out. 

but then you remember kika, the way she makes you feel, and you know you can’t keep this part of yourself hidden any longer. you wanted to show the world that you loved kika, and taking that step to tell your family first was important.

“mom, there’s something i need to tell you,” you begin, your voice trembling. 

you can hear the concern in her voice as she asks what’s wrong, and you take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you force the words out. 

“i’m… i’m dating someone–”

“oh my goodness, finally,” your mother cheers. 

“i didn’t realize that you’d have suitors in spain– what's the fellows name!?” she continued. 

your heart broke a tiny bit, knowing that it's not a man you’ll be telling her about. 

“you’ve been watching my games, right?” you ask. 

you couldn’t see your mom, but you could tell her eyebrows were raised. 

“yes?”

“number 18 on my team, kika– she is the person i am dating..” you swallow.

there’s a long silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment, you look at your phone thinking that the call has dropped. but then your mother speaks, her voice cold and distant in a way that makes your heart drop. 

“are you serious, y/n? is this some kind of phase?”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. 

“no, mom, it’s not a phase. i’m a lesbian. i’ve always been, i just… didn’t tell you until now.”

“y/n, this isn’t… this isn’t what our parents raised us to be,” your younger brother’s voice cuts in, harsh and unforgiving. 

“you can’t be serious about this. this has to be a joke. you’re throwing your life away for something that isn’t even right or makes sense.”

your heart breaks.

“it makes sense to me,” you whisper, but they’re not listening. 

they continue to talk, their voices overlapping in a barrage of judgment and disappointment, and you feel your heart tearing apart with every word.

“please, just… try to understand,” you plead, but it’s no use. they’ve made up their minds, and there’s nothing you can say to change it.

“y/n, you need to think about what you’re doing or if you’re being manipulated,” your mother says, her tone final. 

“we can’t support this or you. this is all wrong.”

the words echo in your mind, cutting deeper than anything you’ve ever felt before. 

they don’t accept you, they don’t understand, and it feels like your world is crumbling around you. 

“i… i can’t do this– goodbye.” you manage to choke out before ending the call, you quickly block your families numbers from your phones before the sobs hit your body– forcing you to collapse onto your bed.

you don’t know how long you stay there, crying into your pillow. the sun sets and now your room is dark, since you don’t bother getting up to turn on your ambient lamps.

eventually, you force yourself to get up when you notice the polaroid picture of you and kika sitting on your bedside table. 

your legs are shaky, your heart feels like it’s been smashed into a million pieces, but you know you can’t stay here. you need to be somewhere safe, somewhere where you’re loved.

the family you grew up with will not be your family anymore. you refuse to associate with individuals that cannot accept you for who you are. Luckily you’re in another country so it won’t be as hard.

without thinking, you grab your keys and head to alexia’s apartment across the hall. 

your hands tremble as you knock on the door, and when it opens, you’re shocked to see not just alexia and olga, but also ingrid, mapi, frido, caroline, and marta. 

they’re all there, gathered around the living room, and as soon as they see your tear-streaked face, they jump up from the sectional couch and rush to your side.

“y/n,¿qué pasó?” alexia asks, her voice full of concern as she pulls you into a tight hug.

you try to speak, but the words won’t come out, so you just shake your head, burying your face in her shoulder as the tears start again.

“it’s okay, you’re safe now,” she whispers, rubbing your back as the others gather around, offering their own words of comfort.

“they… they don’t accept me,” you finally manage to get out, your voice breaking. 

“they don’t understand, and they never will.”

there’s confusion from your teammates. everyone looks around to see anger and sadness in mapi’s eyes. she might not relate to it, but she knows exactly what you might’ve gone through. 

“y/n, i’m so sorry,” mapi says, her voice thick with emotion as she reaches out to squeeze your hand.

“you don’t need them,” mapi continues firmly, her hand resting on your shoulder. 

“what happened?” ingrid whispers in mapi’s ear. 

“my family doesn’t want me to be with her, they don’t accept me ingrid.” you say, rubbing your eyes as you put your head up from alexia’s shoulders. 

all of the adults in the room frowned.

“i am so sorry nina.” olga hugs you.

“we love you, y/n. everyone here, and everyone on the team, accepts you.” caroline rubs your shoulder as olga pulls away from your body.

“we’re your family now, y/n. we love you for who you are, no matter what.”

“and we always will,” frido adds, her voice soft but strong. 

“you’re not alone in this,” olga says.

“not at all.” alexia finishes.

the words are like a balm to your broken heart, and you feel a warmth spreading through you as you look around at the faces of your teammates—your friends, your family. 

they’re here for you, they love you, and they’re not going anywhere.

“thank you,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you look at each of them. 

“i don’t know what i’d do without you all.”

“you’ll never have to find out niña,” alexia says, pulling you into another hug. 

“we’re here for you, always.”

as the night goes on, you start to feel a little better, surrounded by the love and support of your teammates. 

it doesn’t erase the pain of your family’s rejection, but it helps to know that you’re not alone.

kika comes over to alexia’s apartment when mapi contacts her, not giving much detail but saying that you needed her support. 

when you tell kika everything– her eyes are wide, filled with a mixture of shock, worry, and something deeper—something that makes your heart ache all over again. 

she steps closer, her hand trembling slightly as she reaches out to touch your cheek, wiping away a stray tear with her thumb.

“y/n…” she whispers, her voice breaking with emotion. 

“i’m so sorry. i… i can’t believe they’d say that to you. you don’t deserve that. not at all.”

her words hit you hard, and you can see the pain etched on her face, pain that mirrors your own. 

it’s clear that she’s hurting for you, that your heartbreak is tearing her apart just as much as it’s tearing you apart. 

she pulls you into a hug, holding you so tight that you can feel her heart beating against yours, strong and steady, grounding you in a way that nothing else can.

“estou aqui, ok?” she murmurs, her breath warm against your ear as she strokes your hair. 

“i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere. we’ll get through this together, i promise.”

you clutch her tighter, feeling a fresh wave of tears coming on, but this time they’re different—not just tears of sadness, but also of gratitude. 

you don’t know what you did to deserve someone like kika in your life, someone who loves you so deeply and so fiercely, but in this moment, you’re thankful for every bit of it.

kika pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, her hands cupping your face with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. 

“they don’t get to decide who you are or who you love,” she says, her voice firm, full of conviction. 

“you’re perfect just the way you are, y/n. and i love you, so much. don’t ever forget that.”

her words are saving, pulling you out of the darkness that’s been threatening to swallow you whole. 

you nod, unable to find the right words to respond, but the look in her eyes tells you that she understands.

“we’re your family now,” kika continues, her voice softening as she presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. she smile, not knowing that alexia said the same thing a few moments ago. 

“me, alexia, mapi, everyone here. we’re your family, and we’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

the others nod in agreement, their expressions full of love and support, and you feel a warmth spreading through your chest, chasing away the coldness that’s been lingering since that painful phone call. 

you’re surrounded by people who love you for who you are, people who will stand by you through anything, and that’s more than you could have ever hoped for.

“i love you too, so much kika” you finally manage to say, your voice shaking with emotion as you look into kika’s eyes. 

“all of you. thank you… for being here, for loving me.” you say looking at your present teammates.

kika smiles, a soft, bittersweet smile that tells you she understands the depth of what you’re feeling. 

she leans in, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that’s full of love, reassurance, and a promise of better days to come. 

it’s a kiss that reminds you that you’re not alone, that you have a family here in barcelona—a family that will love and support you no matter what.

when you finally pull away, you find yourself wrapped in the warmth of your teammates, their arms around you in a group hug that feels like a cocoon of safety and love. 

your new home.

if you're struggling with similar feelings, just know that you're loved always. it might not feel like it, but we love you and support you for who you are!

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[loonsloon]

@into-the-jeggyverse, january 25, luck words: 955, cw: blood, but nothing too explicit

Yes, Regulus was aware that he had a bit of a crush on James Potter. After all, the guy was warming up to him fast. It was terrifying to admit, but after spending some time with James—not by his choice, mind you—they could maybe even call each other friends. It was unavoidable, though, because James was everywhere. And if he wasn’t, he’d always find a way to be.

Like right now.

Regulus had been helping Madam Pomfrey these past few days. It all started one random afternoon while he was delivering potions for Slughorn. After admitting that he was interested in becoming a healer, Pomfrey offered him the chance to learn basic healing spells under her guidance, and he agreed. So far, his duties were simple; some minor injuries, like a scraped knee, a bruised elbow, or a first-year’s sprained ankle after tripping on the moving staircase.

What he hadn’t anticipated, though, was how often his idiot brother and his even more idiotic friends would show up. They were in the hospital wing more often than clumsy first-years after flying lessons.

And here he is. James Potter. Bursting through the doors still fully dressed in quidditch gear, grinning ear to ear despite the blood oozing from his forehead. A Gryffindor-themed towel was pressed against the wound, doing nothing to stop the bleeding. Regulus swore his heart skipped a beat—whether from the sight of the blood or the way James’ shirt clung to his torso was debatable.

“Madam Pomfrey! I think I need stitches!” James exclaimed, glancing around for her.

“She’s not here,” Regulus sighed, and James’ eyes finally landed on him.

Moving the towel for a moment, James revealed a cut slicing through his eyebrow. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad, and it missed his eye entirely.

James’ grin somehow grew wider. Regulus was already regretting being here today.

“Reggie! I didn’t know you were in today,” James said cheerfully, jumping to sit on one of the beds, his feet swinging like an overexcited toddler. Regulus refused to admit that it was adorable. In fact, James and the word adorable had no business being in the same sentence.

“She went to get some potions. Barely anyone’s been in today. She’ll be back soon,” Regulus explained, turning his attention back to organizing the supply cabinet.

“Well, aren’t you training to be a healer? I know you can heal this; it has to be easier than Sirius’ broken nose last week!”

Yes, but Sirius is his brother. Regulus didn’t care if he fucked up his nose. It might’ve even been funny, considering how much Sirius loved to brag about it.

James, though? That was a different story entirely. There was no way Regulus could risk getting so close to him. He was terrified James might suddenly look at him and realize: Oh, so you’ve got bit of a crush on me, huh? And Regulus can’t have that happening.

“I’m not doing anything without Pomfrey’s approval. I haven’t perfected the stitching charms yet, and that looks like a nasty cut,” Regulus lied.

All of that was a lie. Regulus had already handled worse injuries without her. The cut wasn’t even that bad; the blood was only flowing because James was still sweating from practice. His body was literally, and figuratively, hot.

“It’s not that bad! Just a bit deep. C’mon, Reg, at least clean it up,” James pleaded, a cute pout on his face. He’d taken off his glasses and was now holding the towel across his right eye, somehow managing to look ridiculously endearing.

“Fine,” Regulus muttered, utterly defeated. James wasn’t going to leave him alone, so he might as well make himself useful.

“But I’m not stitching it up. You’ll have to wait for Poppy. I’ll just stop the bleeding and clean it up for her.”

He rolled over the medical trolley and stopped it in front of James, positioning himself between James’ sprawled knees. Grabbing gauze and alcohol, he prepared to clean the wound.

“Hi,” James said, smiling down at him. His dimples popped, and his grin was somehow even more genuine than usual.

Regulus felt the blush creeping up his cheeks but refused to show weakness.

“Hi, idiot.”

And there it was—that beautiful fucking laugh.

“Aren’t you going to ask what happened?”

“Something, something, Sirius accidentally hit you with his bat,” Regulus guessed, not bothering to look up. It wasn’t a difficult assumption; the two of them were a disaster in the air, always bickering and pushing each other.

“Hey, how did you know?”

“You’re predictable,” Regulus sighed, starting to dab at the wound with alcohol. James winced.

“That stings!”

“Don’t be a baby. It’s what you get for being careless,” Regulus muttered absentmindedly, still focused on cleaning the cut.

“Aw, do you care about me, Reggie?” James teased, leaning back to look him in the eye.

Regulus felt the heat rising again and glared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. And stop calling me that, Potter. I told you I hate that nickname.”

Grabbing James by the shirt, he tugged him back into place to finish his work. Desperately trying to hide how flustered he was.

“Alright, alright,” James relented, settling down.

Finally, some silence. Regulus worked quickly, trying to ignore the way James’ knees kept brushing his sides, sending tingles up his spine.

After finishing the cleaning and stopping the bleeding with a quick charm, Regulus stepped back.

“There. You’re done,” he said, moving the trolley away from James’ reach before he could cause more problems.

“Aww, thanks, Reg. Aren’t you going to clean the rest of my face?” James asked, his tone playful, his cheeks still covered with dried blood.

Regulus shot him a glare. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

[dayasfilms]

Can I pls request early days Steve and Star out on a date and come across Hopper who glares daggers at Steve and low key threatening him because he’s looking out for Star

Hopper Sees You and Steve on a Date

Summary: Hopper sees you and Steve on a date and can’t help but glare daggers at the boy.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Year: Around January of 1985

Warnings: No mentions of Y/N, fluffy, Hopper in protective-dad mode, it would make a lot more sense to read my ST series Reticent (click the Series Masterlist below) before reading this one shot because there are spoilers if you haven’t read it

Word Count: 0.4k

Note: Thank you for your request! I know you wanted this to happen during one of the earlier days when Star and Steve were first dating but it just makes more sense to set it during this time because in one of the blurbs, I mentioned that Hopper didn’t get too involved in Star’s personal life in the early days because things were still new. I hope you still like it!

Series Masterlist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

Hopper was still pretty irritated about Mike Wheeler constantly showing up at his cabin to hang out with El. The kid was harmless, but he was also loud, nosy, and annoyingly persistent. Hopper didn’t care how ‘sweet’ El claimed he was. He was still a teenage boy, and that was enough to drive Hopper crazy.

And as if dealing with one teenage romance wasn’t enough, he also had to deal with you and Steve Harrington.

It was like the universe came together to test his patience. You were older than El, almost an adult, but in Hopper’s mind, you were still one of his girls. And no boy, especially not Steve Harrington with his dumb hair, was ever going to be good enough.

That was why he couldn’t stop glaring at Steve across the diner booth.

You were taking a sip of your milkshake, talking about something that made Steve smile when Hopper walked in. He hadn’t meant to find you. He just wanted a coffee to go, but then there you were. And Steve, unfortunately, was there too.

Steve looked up just in time to meet Hopper’s eyes. He stiffened instantly.

You followed his gaze and sighed. “Please don’t.”

“What?” Steve asked, looking back at you. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“He’s not going to do anything to you,” you said, grabbing a fry off his plate.

“Yeah, but he’s looking at me like he wants to put me six feet in the ground.”

“No, he doesn’t…” You didn’t turn around, but you could feel Hopper’s eyes on the two of you. “Well, a little bit, maybe.”

Steve groaned. “That’s comforting.”

Behind you, Hopper gave a nod to the lady at the counter, still watching Steve like a hawk. He sipped his coffee slowly, eyes never leaving Steve’s face. He wasn’t trying to look threatening. He was just…observing.

Hopper still remembered the first time you and Steve broke up, even though he didn’t know the full story. Yasmin never told him what really happened, said that it was your business, and she wanted to respect that. But he saw how quiet you got afterward, how you kept to yourself. That made him cautious around Steve, not fully trusting him yet. He wanted to believe Steve was different this time, but part of him was still on edge.

You finally turned around and gave Hopper a pointed look. The older man raised his eyebrows as if to say, What?

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and turned back around.

Steve leaned in, voice low. “I feel like I’m on a hit list.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you muttered, trying not to laugh. “Just don’t act dumb in front of him, and he’ll get over it.”

Steve wasn’t convinced. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s about to die.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning over to pinch your boyfriend’s cheek. “You’re so cute.”

And Hopper, standing with his coffee and his narrowed eyes, made no effort to hide his eavesdropping. He might have tolerated you dating Steve, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

[writer-freak]

Could you please write something about how each agent would react to the reader saying “I love you”? For Chamber, Sova, Gekko, Breach Skye & Reyna? Thank you in advance!!

A/n: So this request sat in my inbox since January 😖, I tried my best but it turned out more short but I hope you still enjoy <3. Also took some creative liberty like always so if anything is ooc or doesn't fit into the lore, I'm sorry.

Chamber

You hadn’t meant to say it. It slipped out while he was adjusting your clothes for one of those fancy events, hands steady, movements practiced, standing too close the way he always does.

“Mon chéri/e” he murmured, smoothing out a crease on your clothes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were nervous.” He was smiling. That easy, knowing smile that always made your stomach twist in the worst way. Making you feel like he already fully knew what you were feeling for him.

And then it just... happened. “I love you.”

His hands stilled. Only for a second, but enough to feel it.

For once, it was him caught off guard. Then, without saying a word, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“I know” he said, voice still smooth but quieter than usual. His eyes, though, were something else, steady, a little too serious.

Sova

He always brought you something warm after tough missions. Tonight it was tea, exactly how you liked it. He handed it over without a word, offering a quiet smile that always brought you a sense of relief.

You sat on the edge of your bed, still in your clothes from today's mission. He turned to leave like he always did, respectful of your space and never staying for too long, but something tugged inside you today.

“Sasha.”

He looked back, hand still on the doorframe.

“I love you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. Just... still. Then he let out a quiet laugh, soft and genuine, the kind of sound you wouldn't hear from him often.

“I hoped you did” he said, stepping back toward you.

He sat beside you on the edge of the bed, just close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. “Because I love you too.”

You reached your hand out to grasp his and just leaned against him. There was no need to say more after that.

Gekko

The infirmary was quiet except for the low hum of equipment and Wingman’s soft breathing from the corner. Gekko sat on the bed, shoulder freshly bandaged, still cracking jokes while you cleaned up the mess of supplies around him.

You tried to scold him (tried to stay annoyed) but your hands were shaking just a little. “Geez, you really freaked me out out there,” you muttered.

He looked at you then, a bit more serious than before. “Yeah… sorry” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just—I couldn’t let you take that hit.”

Your stomach twisted. He said it like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t the kind of thing that could’ve ended him.

“You’re lucky I love you too much” you said, voice soft but firm, unable to help the way it slipped out.

He blinked, surprised, but only for a second. Then that familiar grin spread across his face, wide and a little crooked.

“Yo... seriously?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “Yeah. Seriously.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just reached over and took your hand, fingers warm and careful. “I was kinda hoping you’d say that someday” he said, almost sheepish now.

“I love you too. For real.”

And he didn’t let go of your hand, not even when you went to sleep that day.

Breach

Sparring with Breach was always intense but somehow still fun. You were both slick with sweat, catching your breath after the latest round. He hauled you up from the mat with one hand, grinning like he hadn’t just nearly knocked you flat.

“You’re getting bette,” he said, brushing off your shoulder.

“Thanks,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. Then, casually (too casually) you added, “I love you.”

He froze. That grin dropped in real time.

“Wait—what?”

You looked up at him, not backing down. “You heard me.”

There was a beat where neither of you moved. Then he stepped in, close enough to make your pulse stutter.

“You better mean that,” he said, voice rough around the edges.

“I do.”

The kiss he gave you was quick, heated and when he pulled back, his smirk returned, but this time, it was different.

Skye

You and Skye were walking the trail behind the base her favorite place, full of winding trees and animals. She was mid-sentence, telling you about some big woodworking project that she did years ago.

And then you said it. No build-up. No hesitation.

“Skye, I love you.”

She stopped mid-step, turning toward you. “Wait, for real?”

You nodded, suddenly unsure of yourself now that the words were out.

She stepped closer, bumping her shoulder into yours with a warm smile. “You know,” she said, “I was wondering how long it’d take you.”

Then she wrapped you in a hug that was incredibly comforting, her voice soft near your ear. “I love ya too.”

The rest of the walk was slower after that. Quieter. But every time you looked at her, she was already looking back.

Reyna

You didn’t expect her to respond. Not really. The two of you lay next to each other under the covers after a long, brutal mission, the kind that left it's mark. She was silent, eyes fixed on the ceiling and mind somewhere far away.

“I love you.” You said it into the stillness, barely more than a breath.

For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Then, softly, so soft you almost missed it, she replied, “You shouldn’t.”

You turned to face her anyway. “But I do.”

She looked at you then, finally. Her expression unreadable, eyes dark and searching. “You’re foolish,” she murmured, brushing her fingers along your cheek like she couldn’t help herself.

“But I won’t lie” she added, voice even quieter. “I… feel something too.”

It wasn’t a declaration. It wasn’t a promise. But coming from Reyna, it was everything.

And that was enough.

If you came this far I hope you have an amazing day <3

[hoonieyun]

now playing...

rainy days - v/taehyung

pairing: lee heeseung x reader "y/n" x sim jaeyun

warnings: real sad girl hours, profanity, talks about mental health/illness, yn stressed out, depressive habits, jake big red flag this chapter, sunghoon unserious whats new, overall 18+

ignore timestamps and any possible typos lol - part of this chapter is written so please be sure to read the written portion to ensure you understand the full story wc: 317

you stared at the texts with jake for the nth time that day. you had spent the last 9 hours in the studio working on songs and writing lyrics but nothing was working for you because your head was just somewhere else. it was with jake. 

the two of you hadn’t spoken in a week and although he occassionaly looks at your instagram stories, he hasn’t responded to any of your texts. you don’t blame him though, you shouldn’t have let heeseung into your condo that night even if you didn’t stay there. you knew it would look bad if anyone had seen and it just so happened to be seen by someone who had connections to the stupid drama account that hasn’t left you alone for the last year ever since the person behind the account started updating their followers about you and heeseung’s relationship for the first time when the two of you were spotted fighting outside out of a music festival. 

a big sigh leaves your lips as you drop your phone onto the counter of the producer booth, trying to wrap your head around what you were going to do. unsure if you wanted to focus on writing music, try to fix things with jake, or even reach out to heeseung… you had seen his tweet about taking a break for himself and although you keep telling yourself that you don’t care anymore; you genuinely wish that he was okay and going to do better for himself. 

you’ve been working on this song for the last few weeks and it just wasn’t feeling like something you wanted to write anymore. you thought about your situation and started to just write down your feelings, hoping that a miracle of some sort would find its way to you and a song would be created out of the emotions you were writing down onto the paper.

masterlist - back - next

hoonieyun notes: yikes! anyways... now playing... will take a little break while i work on the rest of the chapters! it will continue again next year starting january 10th, 2025!

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[jilyawards]

June

clearing the air (WIP, 11.7k as of 30 June 2025) by lovelystag. Rated T.

“Can we talk?” “Look, I’m not really looking forward to having another row with you–” “Me neither, I just want to clear the air.” OR A series of events in which James and Lily (and sometimes the others) end up talking things out, finding common ground.

Formidable (WIP, 8k as of 30 June 2025) by @yallthemwitches. Rated M.

“Been practicing your French then?” Sirius sniggers. “ My, wonder why you’d want to boast knowledge of such a romantic language.” “Because it’s the polite thing to do while visiting a foreign country?” “Or—” Sirius hums, taking a drag. “You are trying to impress a certain redhead who—” “Who is my friend, ” James cuts in, with a stern look. “A friend, Pads. Really. Nothing else.”

Catch the Wind: The Remastered Edition (WIP, 33.4k as of 30 June 2025) by @yallthemwitches. Rated E.

When she had stepped off the train in Hogsmeade station, Lily Evans had promised herself one thing: don't be stupid. She isn't quite sure where letting James Potter get under her skin falls on the spectrum of idiocy, but it's definitely up there. 

Icebreaker (completed, 281 words) by @tedwardremus. Rated G.

James never backs down from a dare

When the Void Calls, Will You Answer? (completed, 3k words) by @yallthemwitches. Rated T.

“If anything happens– y’know, to me–will you take care of her?” The question hangs in the air like smoke. “Nothing is going to happen to you mate.” “I know, but I’m speaking hypothetically–” Frustration rises like a wave in his chest, making him want to strike something hard and deliberate. “And I’m saying hypothetically or not, nothing is going to happen to you.”

under the july sun (completed, 3.6k) by @tainwho. Rated T.

A Saturday in Central London is no joke, and several times in the last few minutes, Lily has had to unceremoniously grab James’ arm to prevent them from getting separated. After what feels like at least an hour, James remembers to ask: “Evans, where are we going?” And Lily, with that same, dazzling smile thrown over her shoulder, says: “To get ice cream, obviously.” Or: James and Lily hang out the summer after Sixth Year. James tries to be normal about it.

Second Breakfast (completed, 3.4k) by @tedwardremus. Rated T.

Lily hadn’t realized that the playful talks she’d had with James about getting a house together after Hogwarts were more than just jokes until she found herself standing in the doorway of the cozy little cottage they now shared.

A Sound, Whoever It's For (completed, 2.6k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated E.

It will take a lot of mental scrubbing later, but even through the waves of regret, he knows it will be worth it. How many nights had he laid awake wondering where the creamy ivory of her skin led to under some short pair of jean shorts or muggle skirt? How many casual moments had she accidentally flashed the view of her knickers at him whenever they went swinging in the park or climbing trees out by the industrial mill? He’d banked up years worth of stolen moments like those, each one as precious as the last and he hadn’t even been able to touch her. Now, Potter sits back on his heels and takes for granted the gift he’s been given and it boils his blood deep into every artery. 

january is for lovers (completed, 13.6k) by @ohhevans. Rated T.

“James?” “Lily.” Snow is falling between them and half obscuring his face, but she would know this face in any weather, in any place. Nine years ago she closed a door and left this face, and she has thought of it ever since. She has thought about how the contours changed from eleven to twelve to thirteen to fourteen to fifteen to sixteen to seventeen, the jaw sharpening and the stubble growing on his cheeks. She has tried to accelerate him forward in time, from seventeen to twenty-six, and see how his face looks now. The answer is: as she expected, comforting, familiar, glowing even in the weak January light and the snow. “Is it you?” Lily whispers. “Is it really you?” “It’s me,” James says, “it’s really me.” -or- A series of people places things and moments from Lily Evans' life, and a love(r) story.

Waiting Is A Horrible Game To Play (completed, 1.4k) by @tedwardremus. Rated G.

Lily wants to smash the clock on the mantle—anything to silence its relentless ticking, counting down every minute James is late returning from an Order mission.

i don’t know why i like you (but i do) (WIP, 43k as of 30 June 2025) by @firefeufuego. Rated E.

‘You are so exactly the person I thought you were, James Potter.’ That’s his girl, still so condescending even when she’s put down. ‘Yeah,’ he says, not looking back, ‘I guess I am.’ Lily and James read History together at Balliol College at Oxford. Unfortunately, they just can’t seem to read each other for shit.

Magnolia (WIP, 9.1k as of 30 June 2025) by @theesteemedladydebourgh. Rated E.

Exploding Ministry memos and one or two requisite dragons and cursed magical objects. Old school romances with a dash of new workplace flirtation. James Potter and Lily Evans may have missed each other the first time around…but not this time, if Ministry regulations have anything to say about it.

there's a war going on out there (completed, 2.6k) by @ohhevans. Rated G.

It’s a wedding ring. James Potter is married. James Potter is married and pressing a kiss to Lily Evans’ cheek, and she is tipping her face up to look at him, to accept a kiss on her lips, because James Potter is married to her, to Lily Evans, to Lily Evans who swore up and down when they were fifteen years old that she detested Potter, that Potter’s stupid crush didn’t mean anything to her, that he meant nothing to her, and yes she’d thrown all that out the window for a bit in their seventh year, but that was proximity, wasn’t it? Head Girl and Head Boy, it was bound to happen, surely she would come to her senses. Instead, she got married. Instead, she married James Potter.

another way of saying "i love you" (completed, 10.6k) by @ohhevans. Rated E.

His internal alarm clock is usually impeccable, has him up and gently disentangling himself from her to go on his morning run and then to get ready for work long before what most people would consider a decent hour, but every now and then it fails him, as it has today: It’s his birthday, but the universe has granted her the gift of waking up first.

a picture is worth a thousand words (completed, 765 words) by @emeralddoeadeer. Rated G.

James puts his time to creative uses while in hiding...

one more time now, with feeling (WIP, 136.8k as of 30 June 2025) by @gigglesandfreckles-hp. Rated M.

“Why us?” “If memory serves,” Dumbledore says, with a gentle, knowing smile, “you two were once rather good friends.” Lily feels something twist painfully in her stomach. Dumbledore’s gaze moves pointedly toward James. “And forgive an old man’s nostalgia, James, but I seem to recall you having quite a profound affection for Miss Evans at some point during your time at Hogwarts.” His blue eyes twinkle slightly, corners crinkling behind his half-moon glasses. “Whether that holds true today, I cannot say—but I find that such history can be remarkably persuasive when circumstances require...believability.”

Fever for Her (completed, 1.7k) by starlitscribr. Not rated.

as James Potter leaned against the brick. His hazel eyes, usually glinting with mischief, were fixed on the sliding glass doors, searching for her. Lily Evans. It had been six months since she’d left for her study abroad program in Florence. Six months since he’d last seen her fiery red hair, her sharp green eyes, her smile that could stop traffic. Six months of torturous longing, James Potter was obsessed.

Choose Your Own (sexy) Adventure (WIP, 360k as of 30 June 2025) by @ghostofbambifanfiction. Rated E.

Too many cooks can occasionally write a story.

When Flowers Bloom (WIP, 42.6k as of 30 June 2025) by @number1abbasupporter. Rated T.

lily evans and james potter are both tired of their best friends’ nonsense about their obvious like for each other. the only logical thing for them to do is to take it into their own hands. However, neither of them think about what all the time they spend together will do. or, jily falling for each other while setting up wolfstar!!

Roman Candle of the Wild (completed, 4.4k) by @secretlanguage. Rated G.

James couldn’t figure out what had suddenly changed. One moment, his chin was slumped on his hand, his elbow resting atop the sticky wooden table, as his eyes followed Sirius and Peter, who were attempting to get Madam Rosmerta's attention and fetch their group a round of butterbeers. The next, he was looking right at her, irrevocably enthralled by every single detail enveloping Lily Evans.

Until the Very End: Preparing to Fall (completed, 70.2k) by @thejilyship. Rated T.

The past Victors are all gearing up for the 74th Hunger Games. Lily Evans won the 66th games when she was only 14 years old. She's been doing this for almost ten years now and she just wants to get this years games over with. In the years since she's won, she's alienated herself from her sister and she's started fighting with her childhood friend. But she'll paste a smile on her face for the Capital and pretend like all is well. Having won the 70th games at 17 years old, James is still considered a new comer. It's his first time being a mentor. He knows there's not much he can do to help his District's tributes, everyone knows it. He won his games but with each passing year, it feels more like he lost. The Capital citizens love Sirius Black. He's from District 4 and they are fascinated by him. He won his games at 13, the youngest ever! He's all over billboards and he's invited to all the parties when he's in the Capital. If they're lucky, they can snag him for a date. Everything about his life looks so glamorous, and he hates all of it. All of their lives take a dramatic turn when Mary MacDonald throws a wrench, into how the games always play out.

Just enough shades of messed up (completed, 6.3k) by octaviajeune1544. Rated E.

Lily gets stood up, caught in the rain, and found walking home in a soaking-wet dress by her best friend's godfather. James Potter really shouldn’t stop for her. He definitely shouldn’t offer her his jacket. And under no circumstances should he pull over on a quiet street and let her crawl into his lap. Gratuitous car smut to satisfy my, and anyone else's, need for James Potter with DILF vibes.

you can hear it in the silence (completed, 2.7k) by @oakheartedmuse. Rated T.

"When Lily accepted Mary’s invitation to that damned college party, she couldn't have been more disheartened. She would likely end the night more stressed than when she had arrived. But she had never been so happy to be so wrong." Or, Lily has the best night of her life. And she wants more.

do the hustle! (completed, 1.1k) by @theyonlytoldthemoon. Rated G.

sometimes i listen to music and all i can do is think about them. this is pre-relationship jily, first kiss, all that good stuff. if you want to (and please do, it really sets the mood), listen to The Hustle by Van McCoy & The Soul City Symphony!

December's Valentine (WIP, 34.6k as of 30 June 2025) by @stonecoldhedwig. Rated E.

Sometimes, a one-night-stand with a guy off Tinder is just that: a one-night-stand. No lasting feelings, no strings attached. It's the kind of thing that's easy to get your head around when you're trying to get your heart around the end of a relationship. Sometimes, it's not that simple. Sometimes, you're a journalist, and you get assigned to write a piece on an up-and-coming restaurateur, who just might be that one-night-stand from Tinder that you can't stop thinking about. And sometimes, to make matters worse, the two of you get snowed in... **** Or: Lily shags James, and thinks she'll never see him again. Right? Wrong.

Find the previous months' recs: November & December | January | February | March | April | May

[oaksgrove]

Husband!König would be such a DAD but what if he and reader had problems conceiving and after a long time they had their first born?

This was getting dust on my drafts, sorry nonnie :((( (and it was supposed to be a drabble, but husband!konig is so~)

Waiting for a Miracle

pairing: König x female!reader

synopsis: After years of trying and countless heartbreaks, you and König were on the verge of giving up on starting a family. But when a long-awaited test shows two pink lines, the joy and love that follow are beyond anything you ever imagined.

warnings: pregnancy, bit angsty in the start but heart-melting fluff in the end!

word count: 1869

The small house at the edge of the forest felt like a sanctuary from the moment you saw it. The soft hum of nature, the golden light streaming through the windows, and the little garden brimming with possibility—it felt like it was waiting for you and König to fill it with your story.

When you first moved in, it was empty but hopeful. König insisted on carrying every box himself, his massive frame moving through the house like a gentle giant.

“Don’t lift that,” he called when you tried to help, his Austrian accent warming the syllables. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you protested, but he shot you a look that brooked no argument.

He wanted to make this house into a home for you. You watched him hang curtains, build furniture, and haul soil for the garden. Every touch was infused with love.

That first night, the two of you sat on the floor surrounded by unpacked boxes, sharing a meal of pizza and wine. You leaned into his side, his arm wrapping around you.

“It’s almost perfect,” you whispered.

“But it will be.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “One day, we’ll hear little feet running through these halls.”

The words were soft, a promise wrapped in hope.

You hadn’t realized how hard it would be. Each passing month brought another wave of disappointment, each test flashing a single line. The first year, König reassured you with kisses and sweet words.

“It will happen, Liebling. We just need time.”

By the second year, the optimism started to wane. The silence after each test became heavier. König’s arms would wrap around you, holding you close as tears fell onto his chest. He was strong for both of you, but you could see the cracks forming in his armor.

“It’s not your fault,” he told you again and again, as though saying it would erase your guilt.

You tried to find joy in the small things—gardening together, baking, quiet evenings with a book. But the ache never fully left. You both wanted more, needed more.

The cold January wind howled against the windows, rattling the glass as you stood in the kitchen. The clock ticked steadily on the wall, filling the silence between you and König. His large frame leaned against the counter, arms crossed tightly, his head bowed as though weighed down by invisible burdens.

"Maybe this is it," you murmured, your voice breaking. "Maybe we’re not meant to be parents."

König’s head snapped up, his usually calm blue eyes stormy with emotion. "Don’t say that," he said, his voice thick with frustration and something deeper. "We’ve come this far."

You closed your eyes, willing yourself not to cry again. You had shed enough tears over the years—months of negative tests, doctor visits, treatments, and the unbearable ache of hope crumbling into despair.

"I’m tired, König," you whispered. 

He stepped closer, his calloused hands finding yours. "I know," he said softly, pressing his forehead to yours. "But we keep trying, Schatz. For us. For what we’ve dreamed of."

For all his stoic strength, König’s voice cracked, and in that moment, you realized just how much he carried. His unshakable faith, his constant reassurances—they had been for you, to keep you afloat.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his waist, allowing yourself to draw strength from him. "Okay," you whispered. "One more time."

The call came early in the morning. You had been sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for another pregnancy test.

When your phone buzzed with the alarm you set, König rushed to the bathroom before you could. His expression changed as he listened, his body going completely still.

When he turned to you, his eyes widened.

"You’re pregnant." he whispered.

The room tilted, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. "What?"

König cupped your face, his own trembling. "You’re pregnant, Schatz. It’s real."

Tears blurred your vision as you flung yourself into his arms, sobbing into his chest. "It’s real," you echoed, over and over again, the words tasting like the sweetest miracle.

König held you tighter, his broad shoulders shaking as he let himself cry too. For the first time in years, the weight of waiting and wanting lifted, replaced by a joy so profound it left you both breathless.

The journey wasn’t without its challenges. There were sleepless nights of worry, unexpected scares, and countless doctor visits, but through it all, König remained your rock. He read every parenting book he could find, practiced swaddling teddy bears, and painted the nursery a soft shade of green.

“You’re going to be the best papa,” you told him one evening as you watched him carefully fold tiny clothes.

He glanced at you, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Only because I have the best mama by my side.”

The first ultrasound appointment was marked on the calendar in König’s precise handwriting. You had seen him prepare for missions with less organization than he did for this moment. Every day, he reminded you of the date with growing excitement, his voice tinged with awe as he spoke about hearing your baby’s heartbeat for the first time.

The morning of the appointment, König woke you before the alarm, his large hands already resting gently on your belly as if he could somehow connect with the life inside.

“Are you ready, Liebling?” he asked, his eyes glowing with anticipation.

You smiled, placing your hand over his. “I think so. Are you?”

“I’ve been ready for this my whole life,” he murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

The waiting room was quiet, filled with other couples holding hands or nervously flipping through magazines. But König’s presence was anything but subtle—his height and sheer size made him a beacon in the small room. Yet his nervous energy was endearing; his leg bounced lightly, and his fingers toyed with the edge of his jacket sleeve.

When the nurse called your name, König practically jumped to his feet, gripping your hand like it was a lifeline.

In the dimly lit ultrasound room, the technician chatted with you about the procedure, but you barely registered her words. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, your grip on König’s hand tightening as she prepped the machine.

And then, it happened.

The soft, rhythmic thump-thump filled the room, faint but steady, like a tiny drumbeat of life.

König’s breath hitched audibly, his free hand flying to cover his mouth as his eyes filled with tears. “That’s… our baby?”

The technician smiled warmly. “That’s your baby.”

You turned to look at König, finding his expression utterly unguarded—pure joy, disbelief, and love shining through. He bent down, pressing his forehead against yours, his tears mingling with your own.

“Liebling,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “That’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”

You laughed softly, your own emotions overwhelming as you placed your hand over his heart. “We did this, König. They’re real.”

-

That evening, König was a whirlwind of energy. He insisted on cooking dinner, humming softly to himself as he worked. You watched from the kitchen table, a hand resting on your stomach, marveling at how alive your home felt with this newfound joy.

The two of you stayed like that for hours, dreaming aloud about your future. König spoke about teaching your child his native language, about the places he wanted to show them, and the values he hoped to instill.

That night, as you lay in bed, König curled around you protectively, one large hand resting over your belly. He murmured soft words in German—promises, dreams, and love—as if your baby could already hear him.

And for the first time in years, the future felt bright, filled with the heartbeat of hope.

Months passed like a dream, each one filled with small milestones that brought you and König closer to meeting your baby, Hans. König became an expert in everything—prenatal classes, baby books, and even assembling the nursery furniture (though he grumbled when the instructions were unclear). Every evening, he talked to your belly, telling stories or humming lullabies in his rich, deep voice.

And then, the day finally came.

It was just after midnight when the contractions started. At first, you thought it might be a false alarm, but by the time the pain intensified, König was already wide awake, alert as if he were preparing for battle.

“Hospital bag,” he muttered, grabbing it with one hand while the other supported you. “Car keys. Phone. Let’s go, Liebling.”

You couldn’t help but laugh through the pain at his efficiency. “You’re more nervous than I am.”

“I’ve never done this before,” he said earnestly, his free hand brushing your hair back from your face. “But I’ll do it perfectly.”

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity, but König stayed calm, his hand resting reassuringly on your knee the entire time.

Hours later, the delivery room was filled with a blur of voices and activity. König stayed at your side, his hand gripping yours tightly as you worked through the contractions.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the tears shining in his eyes. “You’re incredible, Liebling.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the cries of your baby filled the room.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor announced, holding up the tiny, squirming bundle.

König froze, his breath catching as he stared at your son. When the nurse placed Hans in his arms, his hands trembled slightly, but his expression was one of awe.

“Hallo, Hans,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m your Papa.”

You watched through tears as König bent down, carefully placing him in your arms.

That first night in the hospital, König refused to leave your side. He sat in the chair beside your bed, cradling Hans like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“He’s so small,” König whispered, his fingers gently tracing Hans’ tiny hand.

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “He’ll grow fast. Too fast.”

König shook his head, his eyes never leaving your son. “Not fast enough. I want to remember every moment.”

As Hans stirred in his arms, König began humming a lullaby in German, his deep voice soothing both you and the baby into a peaceful calm.

The first days at home were filled with joy and chaos. König insisted on doing everything—diaper changes, late-night feedings, and even the laundry. You often found him sitting in the nursery, holding Hans close as he talked to him softly.

One evening, as you stood in the doorway, watching König rock Hans to sleep, he looked up and smiled at you.

“He’s perfect,” he said softly, his voice filled with wonder.

You walked over, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head against his chest. “He is. And he has the best papa in the world.”

König kissed the top of your head, his voice tender. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted. You and Hans—my family.”

And as the three of you sat together, wrapped in the quiet warmth of your home, you felt a deep, unshakable sense of love that would carry you through every moment to come.