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lpmurphy · 3 days ago

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Begin Again

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Summary: It had been thirty years since his truck tires rolled out of her drive for the last time. Even longer since the day his locker door slammed shut beside hers and marked the beginning of Jack Abbot. Beth had never expected it to end. Never expected to live a lifetime with only the ghost of the boy who promised her one together. She never expected to see him again. Until that curtain flung open, and there he was. And just like that, Jack Abbot began again.

Notes: jack abbot/single mom!ofc, reunited high school sweethearts, second chance romance, slow (emphasis on the SLOW) burn, seriously it's slow, ofc’s daughter is a teenage gen z menace and we love her for it, angst/longing/yearning to the max, hurt/comfort, author is just an english teacher with no medical background, eventual smut, jack and ofc are emotionally constipated idiots

Word Count: 6,368

Read on AO3 (Up to Chapter 15!)

Chapter Three: Day One Pt. 1

Left. Right. Left.

Nothing.

Awesome.

Beth’s fingers slipped off the lock for the third time, and she let out a breath somewhere between a sigh and a groan. She stared at the numbers the guidance counselor had scrawled across the top of her schedule again, then at the stubborn silver dial, which clearly had it out for her.

Around her, Coldwater High buzzed like a kicked beehive. Voices layered over each other, lockers slammed, sneakers squeaked, and Beth felt like the whole school was moving while she stayed stuck; right there, right in front of locker 312, like a glitch in the system.

She already missed the middle school. Sure, Millstone had been a bigger school in the sense that it had been bigger than Maple Run. But the jump from elementary to middle school felt insignificant compared to the leap from middle to high school. That had been big. This was huge.

A bigger school, a bigger campus, bigger lockers instead of the half lockers she’d used the past three years and knew how to open. Even the cinder block hallways felt like chasms lined with butcher paper posters, groups of students chatting with friends like they hadn’t seen them all summer, and the same chipping paint that had probably been on the wall since her mom went there in the 70s.

Which seemed like a health hazard, because Beth was fairly certain that they still put lead in paint back then, and didn’t put it past a few of her classmates not to eat it on a dare. But then again, that seemed like natural selection at its finest. If the lead didn’t get them, then the asbestos that was undoubtedly in the ceilings would. If Jared McGinnis and Toby Schroeder wanted to tempt fate, that was hardly Beth’s business.

The thing, or things, that felt biggest however were the kids. Everyone was so tall; she’d never been tall, that was why Coach made her a flyer on the first day of practice, but still. Some of these seniors should be asked to present their birth certificates, because if they were seventeen, then Beth was six feet tall. But the first day of freshman year was stressful enough without feeling like she was lost in a forest of patchy facial hair and perfume showers.

And now, to add to it, she was going to be late to class because her stupid locker wouldn’t open. It had opened when the senior who led her orientation group showed her where it was no problem. What gives?

Beth stared at the lock like she could will it open through sheer frustration. She’d turned the dial at least four times now, and all she had to show for it was sweaty palms and a rising sense of doom. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her cheer skirt while she tried to orient herself, stomach twisting uncomfortably, and gave it a gentle yank down. Dad had nearly had a heart attack over it when she came down the stairs that morning in her uniform, muttering to Mom about how ‘those damn things get shorter every year’ for the hundredth time since she got it.

She swallowed down the nerves fluttering in her throat and let out a determined, steadying breath. New doesn’t mean impossible, she told herself. Be smarter than the locker, Baker.

Twist to the left.

Pass 0.

16.

26.

She pressed up the shackle, holding her breath out of sheer hope. Millionth time is the charm. And…

Nothing.

She huffed and glanced around, hoping no one had noticed her losing a standoff with a school-issued hunk of metal. The halls started to thin out as first period grew closer and that nervous flutter grew more frantic, pounding against her ribs like it was trying to chisel them out. Either she had been given the wrong combination, or she’d been cursed. Honestly, at this point, it could go either way.

She was just about to try again when a locker clanged shut beside her.

“Want me to try?”

Beth turned, ready to roll her eyes, but stopped short. She’d braced herself for some smug upperclassman, the kind who’d offer help just to lord it over her while she swallowed what little pride she had left. But the boy standing there looked about her age. Tallish, with messy curls that looked like he’d run his fingers through them one too many times, a faint sunburn brushing his cheeks, and a fading bruise under one eye like he’d run into something, or someone. His mouth twitched, caught between a smirk and a smile, before tipping into a wide, easy grin that crinkled warm hazel eyes. Not smug. Not even close. He looked… kind. Kind, and just tired enough to make it seem like helping her hadn’t been part of the plan, but that not helping had never been an option. Something fluttered in her chest. Hard. And suddenly, the locker wasn’t the only thing making her nervous.

Great. Now her locker failure had an audience.

A really, really, really cute audience.

The nervous pounding in Beth’s stomach didn’t vanish, but it changed; softened almost. Muted, and left something lighter in its place. A fluttery kind of buzz, like a hummingbird was loose in her ribcage, flitting between panic and… whatever this was. Hazel eyes flicked to the lock in question, and the boy gestured to her schedule that Beth had forgotten she was holding.

“Oh,” she breathed. She cleared her throat and nodded, “Sure.” She tugged lightly at the end of her ponytail, stepping aside as he moved closer to the locker door. “I’ve tried it, like, four times. I think it’s stuck. Or hates me. One of the two. I swear, I know how numbers work. Just not today, I guess.”

She cringed, suddenly aware of how much she was talking.

Oh my god, Beth. Shut up.

But the boy just smiled that smile and stepped closer. He smelled faintly of something clean and sharp; his soap, maybe. Her heart did another nervous little jump.

“I believe you,” he said. “Mine gave me trouble all morning.”

“Really?” she asked as he held out his hand for the paper. She hesitated, pride and desperation wrestling, then handed it over.

He nodded, scanning the numbers with that crooked grin still lingering on his face. Beth fidgeted with the strap of her backpack, her ears hot.

“Glad you weren’t there to see it, though,” he added, casually. “Would’ve sucked to embarrass myself in front of a pretty girl first thing this morning.”

Beth’s brain short-circuited. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying not to grin as heat flushed across her face. He glanced up just as she looked down, and their eyes caught briefly.

He turned the dial with quiet focus, murmuring the numbers under his breath. On the first try, the lock clicked, and he pulled the door open with a little flourish.

“Ta-da,” he said, smirking.

Beth let out a half-laugh, half-groan. “Seriously?”

“What can I say? Magic hands.”

He leaned a shoulder against the lockers, still watching her with that lazy grin that sent the hummingbird flitting against her ribs again.

“Is that so?” she teased, stepping toward her newly-unlocked locker. Red pom poms sat in a heap at the bottom, a few binders already stacked on the shelf and a Polaroid of her and Becca from over the summer Scotch taped to the mirror on the door. The boy didn’t walk away, didn’t even move really, just stayed leaned against their lockers with that smile.

“No,” he admitted. “You were just turning it the wrong way. I noticed on your second attempt.”

Her head snapped up at him, brows furrowed and lips parted in a moment of incredulous disbelief. The eye-crinkle smile returned and he attempted to hold back a laugh until Beth scoffed. “And you waited until the fourth to tell me? Why?”

“You didn’t look like you wanted help,” he said with a shrug. Something behind his grin softened. “And maybe I was waiting for a good moment to say hello.”

She bit her lip, trying to suppress the pink rising in her cheeks as she shoved her backpack into her locker.

“I’m Beth, by the way,” she offered, and suddenly the name felt new in her mouth. Lighter. Like maybe it belonged to someone slightly braver than she was five minutes ago.

“Jack,” he said, adjusting the strap of the backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” she added, looking over her shoulder at him. “For helping.”

“Anytime.”

Something about the way he said it made her throat tighten a little. It was simple. Honest. Like he meant it. She nodded, suddenly shy, and busied herself with organizing her textbooks in her locker to hide the way her hands fumbled.

He handed her the schedule, and when her fingers brushed his, they lingered for the briefest second. His hand tensed like it surprised him, and he rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.

“I saw you’ve got algebra with Mr. Oliver first period too,” he said, quickly. “Not that I was looking at your schedule or anything. I just noticed. When I was—uh—reading the combination.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. I was thinking we could maybe walk together?”

It was his turn to blush. Long fingers fidgeted with the cuff of his jacket like he wasn’t sure what to do with them before he tucked the hand into his pocket. Beth smiled, nodding slowly, the hummingbird zipping around at the sight of the crinkle smile that returned. Jack reached forward and took her book like he had moved before giving himself a chance to think about it, stacking it atop his own and pushing his shoulder off of the wall, already angling himself down the hall without taking those golden green eyes off her for a second.

Okay. Maybe high school wasn’t going to be all bad.

Beth bit her lip again, smiling. The school felt a little less like a maze and more like a maybe. She shut her locker with a metallic clang and stepped into the flow of the hallway beside him, still smiling.

A metallic crash downstairs jolted Beth awake with a snort a heartbeat before her alarm blared on the nightstand

She took a sharp breath through her nose and groaned, dragging the pillow over her head just as Atlas scrambled underneath the comforter, already howling at the noise from beside her feet. He thrashed, tangled in the twisted sheets of his own making, and flailed toward her feet like the apocalypse had arrived in the form of a clattering mug and a choice string of teenage profanity.

Definitely a Stanley. Probably pink. Almost certainly dented now.

And judging by the thrum of music playing at a volume wildly inappropriate for five in the morning, her daughter was fully awake. And had no concept of time, respect, or acoustic physics.

Beth didn’t want to know what she was doing down there. Actually, scratch that—she absolutely did. Just not while she was still half awake with one foot still in high school.

Jesus, child.

The clang ebbed into silence, trailing behind like a ripple in the dark as Beth blinked at the ceiling, the edges of the hallway smudging into nothing but the whir of the ceiling fan over the bed. She could still smell the hallway. That weirdly clean-tile scent mixed with locker room deodorant and cheap perfume. Still hear the click of the lock when it finally opened. Still see him standing there with that grin.

She hadn’t thought of Jack in years. But dreams had a funny way of dragging the past back up by the collar. As did the past being your daughter’s emergency physician on a random Tuesday in August.

She reached out and smacked the alarm clock until it stopped screaming, then gave a lazy shove with her foot at the lump of fur pressed against her legs. Atlas shifted just enough to give a huffy little sigh of his own and flop back against her shins, all sixty pounds of him vibrating with sleepy indignation. Gee, what a guard dog. Still, she gave his butt a rub with her foot, lips tugging up when a stubby tail wagged hard enough to shake his whole rear.

She rubbed her eyes and sighed, the heaviness already pressing in behind her temples. That was a new one. The past few nights, it had been the paper mill—always the damn paper mill—before she blinked awake alone in her bed, heart hammering like she’d been chased. But this? This was different. A new flavor of unrest her subconscious had decided to sample. Not that it mattered. She hadn’t done much sleeping in the week since she saw him.

She lifted her phone off the nightstand and squinted at the time, then let it fall to her chest with a sigh. Usually, she was up before her first alarm. Working in healthcare did that to a person; rewired the brain until ungodly hours started to feel routine. Morning was relative anyway depending on what side of the clock you landed when the schedule came out. Beth had learned early in her career to invest in blackout curtains and an alarm loud enough to wake the dead.

Still, it hardly mattered. She never slept much anyway. Call it discipline or habit, or call it being roused by dreams that felt too much like the on-call room and a pager that never stopped buzzing, she always stirred before the clock could scream.

Or maybe call it sharing a home with a teenager who had no concept of volume control and was currently hellbent on giving her an ulcer by thundering up and down the stairs like she hadn’t been given strict instructions by the orthopedic surgeon to not do exactly fucking that.

Or chalk that lack of sleep up to the six-day emotional demolition derby that had flung her from anxiety to rage and back again ever since she saw the boy who shattered her heart thirty years ago casually existing in a hospital five hours from the town he abandoned her in. The same boy who had the audacity to look exactly the same, and to say nothing more than hey, like that was enough. Like it hadn’t been three decades. Like she hadn’t spent entire years stitching herself back together. And just when she thought the moment would pass, grief, fury, disbelief and all, she blinked, and he was her new goddamn coworker.

Fucker.

Probably the same reason she’d sat in her car that night outside the hospital, knuckles white on the steering wheel while Becca stayed on the line and listened to her lose it; scream-crying, cussing like hell, trying not to throw up from the nerves while Abby was in surgery as all of that hurt ripped right back open like a fresh wound, ugly and gaping, until it oozed teenaged petulance all over again.

The same reason she couldn’t focus on the only date she’d tolerated in the past six months last night. Not that it had been going well to begin with. The guy chewed like a cow, didn’t tip, snapped at the waitress to get her attention, and talked about CrossFit like it had personally saved his soul. She’d spent the whole dinner nodding through it, eyes glazed over, unable to stop replaying the way his voice dropped when he said her name. Like it still belonged to him. Like thirty years and a lifetime of silence hadn’t passed.

By dessert, she couldn’t remember the guy’s name. Didn’t even care. After seeing Jack, she’d lost the thread entirely. Couldn’t focus on anything but the storm in her gut and the familiar burn in her throat that had little to do with the bourbon she let the guy keep paying for. Instead, she just handed the waitress a hundred on her way out, apologized profusely, and was home on the couch in her sweatpants before ten, Olivia Benson and a glass of red doing their best to make her forget the way her chest had betrayed her with that one stupid hitch when he looked at her.

Again. Fucker.

Jack Abbot. The fucking idiot.

The name still landed like a brick to the sternum, even though she hadn’t said it in years. The boy she used to know like the back of her hand. The wound healed and thickened by years of scar tissue. The man who’d stood in front of her the other night under the cold buzz of ER fluorescents.

And now? She worked with him.

Oh, irony. You cruel, useless bitch.

Whatever it was, fate, karma, a cosmic joke, Beth was awake. And this morning, she was choosing to blame it on Olivia Rodrigo being blasted out of the kitchen at a volume that made her genuinely concerned for her daughter’s long-term hearing.

She groaned, trying fruitlessly to blink the gritty sleep and late-onset astigmatism that blurred the room around the edges out of her eyes. Sheets twisted stubbornly around her legs as she rolled over, hair sticking to her cheek, her mouth dry. She patted blindly for her glasses on the nightstand and found them under the paperback she hadn’t finished in four days off.

“Turn it down!” she called, voice hoarse and low with sleep. A sigh followed, deep and theatrical, as she kicked her foot out of the tangle of bedding. “The neighbors don’t need a concert, Abigail!”

There was a beat of scrambling, a telltale thud, and the volume dropped.

“Sorry, Mom!” came the reply, muffled but enthusiastic.

Beth pushed her glasses up her nose and reached for the book beside her, dog-earing the page she barely remembered reading.

“What fell?” she called, skimming the page for anything that looked familiar before she resigned herself to starting the chapter over. Again.

“Oh my god, nothing!” Abby replied, drenched in exasperation.

Sure. Because nothing always made that much noise.

“Oh, excuse me. God forbid I ask,” Beth mumbled, letting her head fall back against the pillow. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was going to be that kind of morning.

Her feet found the floor, cold and real, and she sat there for a second debating the pros and cons of pretending the world didn’t exist for five more minutes. Behind her, Atlas let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like judgment.

“Don’t start,” she muttered.

The so-called boxer mix poked his head out from under the comforter and blinked like she’d offended him. He was all blocky head and dumb eyes, with a coat that blended right into the gray duvet. Technically, he’d been a foster fail. Emotionally, he was her most successful relationship to date.

With a squeaking yawn, he gave the massive head a shake, ears flopping like someone had pressed unmute on a cartoon. The shelter back in Boston had promised a boxer-mix, but one look at those shoulders and she’d known; pitbull, plain and simple. Probably half-staffy, too, if the stubbornness was any indication. He stretched with a groan, front paws sliding out first, shoulders low, hind legs still tucked under the covers like he hadn’t fully committed to being upright. Beth gave his hindquarters a firm pat as he finally slid off the bed.

“You coming, big guy?” she asked, pushing off the bed, joints popping in protest. The mirror across the room caught her eye and she caught her reflection in it; tired, tangled, with a faint wrinkle across her cheek from where she’d slept on the tv remote. Surprisingly, the curls she’d twisted her hair into the night before had held up decently enough.

And somewhere in the middle of all of it, she had to remember how to be the new girl again. In a hospital that already felt too familiar.

With Jack fucking Abbot.

She rubbed her eyes.

Coffee. Shower. Possibly in that order. But definitely coffee.

Maybe if she kept moving fast enough, the memories wouldn’t catch up.

Her stomach twisted the whole walk to the bathroom, churning like something mean and alive was trying to claw its way through her gut lining. Beth pressed a hand to it and curled her toes against the tile. Nerves? Please. She didn’t do nerves. Still, she grit her teeth against the nausea and turned on the shower, the old pipes groaning in protest. Steam began to curl around her like a warning. Or a benediction. She wasn’t sure which.

It was stupid. She knew it was stupid.

She’d worked in enough hospitals and backs of ambulances to know her way around a trauma bay. She knew how to talk fast, move faster, disappear into the job until the job became her. But the thought of seeing him again, not as a one-time fluke in a too-bright ER, but every day? Shoulder to shoulder in the break room. Scrubbed in across the same bed. Charting in the terminal beside her… Good lord, what was she doing?

Beth stared at the mirror, fog creeping in around the edges. Her reflection blurred, softening all the sharp parts she didn’t like to look at too long because in them she saw her. She looked tired. Like someone who’d spent the last decade running on caffeine, sarcasm, and avoidance.

She took a breath, too fast, too shallow, then took another, slower one. Squeezed her fists at her sides like she could physically wring out the anxiety. Then, without looking again, she swept her hair up in a clip and stepped under the hot spray. It scalded her shoulders. She welcomed it.

No.

No. He didn’t get to do this to her. Not anymore.

He’d taken enough already. Years she didn’t get back, a version of herself she barely recognized when she thought about that girl she left on the roof of the paper mill now. He didn’t get to take her focus, her calm, her morning. Not today.

Beth tilted her face into the water and let it hit her full-on. Five minutes, then she'd be fine. She always was.

She was a grown woman, damn it. She wasn’t that girl anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time. But for one fleeting moment, between the sight of his face and the sound of her name on his lips, that girl had clawed her way to the surface, gasping for air and begging to throw her arms around his neck and fold into him before drowning all over again. Beth had pulled her from the surf once. Pressed the water from her lungs. Taught her how to swim before she was swept away by the riptide again and needed resuscitation.

She would not do it again.

If that girl chose to dive back into those waters, she could drown on her own.

Beth slammed the faucet off, the clang of metal echoing through the bathroom like punctuation. She towel-dried her face, brushed her teeth with a little more force than necessary, and tugged on the same black scrub pants and gray compression top she’d worn a hundred times. Tried-and-true. Functional. Safe.

When she stepped out, Atlas had claimed her pillow again, snoring like a diesel engine. Abby, however, was sprawled out on Beth’s bed like she owned the place; boot propped up, one fuzzy-socked foot kicked over it, phone in hand, her crutches leaned against the wall. Without a word, Abby held out a cup of coffee toward her mother, eyes still on her screen.

Beth blinked at the mug, then took it with a small grateful smile. She bent down to press a kiss to Abby’s brow before turning to dig through her dresser for a clean vest.

Abby didn’t respond. Just glanced up, gave her a slow once-over, and made a face. “That’s what you’re going with?”

Beth turned to meet her daughter’s disapproving stare, looked down at her clothes, then up again. “Is there a problem, Stacy London?”

“Who?”

“She was on a show called What Not to—” Beth waved a hand. “Nevermind. What’s wrong with it?”

Abby gave a shrug and returned to scrolling. “Just saying. It’s your first day. Kind of a boring choice.”

Beth squinted at her, tossing a black fleece vest onto the bed beside Abby’s feet. “It’s an ER, babe. Not Milan.”

Abby lifted her brows, unconvinced, then turned back to her phone with a silent suit yourself shrug.

Beth rolled her eyes and leaned against the dresser, sipping. “Did you wake up at the crack of dawn just to roast your poor mom?”

“No,” Abby muttered. “I’m trying to unfu—” She caught Beth’s look. “—fix my sleep schedule before school starts next week.”

Beth paused mid-sip and let out an approving hum. “Look at you, being responsible for once.”

Abby didn’t even look up. “What do you mean for once? I’m always responsible. I’ve practically raised myself, you know. I’ll be discussing it in therapy someday.”

Beth snorted. “Oh, the woe of the long suffering. Should I reach out to the Pope regarding your sainthood now? Or should we wait until you start applying for colleges and just do it all at once?”

Abby laughed and weakly pushed at Beth’s arm when she leaned over to kiss the top of her head. “Can I at least do your hair so you don’t look totally boring?”

Beth gave her a look, but relented with a sigh. “Fine. But no bubble braid. I looked like a Spice Girl the last time.”

“Which one?” Abby asked, deadpan.

Beth raised a brow. “The mom one.”

Abby grinned. “There is no mom Spice, Mom.”

“Exactly.”

Beth disappeared into the bathroom to fetch what Abby called out for—brush, elastic, several products that she had to give up on finding by name before she asked for her to just describe the bottles—and returned like a surgical assistant prepping for an OR. Abby adjusted her posture and pointed at the floor in front of her. Beth sat cross-legged with a grunt, mug still in hand, and felt her daughter gather her hair up with more ceremony than the act probably required. At least three different products touched her scalp. One of them smelled like coconut, another like chemicals.

“There’s a lot goin’ on up there,” Beth muttered, eyes drifting shut.

“Trust the process,” Abby replied with exaggerated solemnity, brush in hand.

Beth smirked and took another sip. “That’s what they said at my first Brazilian wax. It didn’t end well.”

Abby made a sound of exaggerated disgust and swatted Beth’s shoulder with the brush. “Ew! Oh my god, why would you say that? You’re foul.”

“Character building,” Beth laughed, grinning now. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks, I hate it. I’m scarred for life now. You’re so lucky I didn’t put glitter gel in this.”

“Hm. Sounds like you’ll be discussing it in therapy some day.” Beth glanced over her shoulder, mock serious. “You didn’t, right?”

Abby just grinned.

Beth exhaled and let her head fall forward again. Atlas snored in the background. The sky outside the window was soft and gray. She had a new job. A fresh start. Her coffee was still hot, and her daughter was doing her hair. For the moment, at least, she didn’t feel like drowning. Not entirely, anyway.

Beth sat still as Abby worked, the rhythmic brushing of her hair a soft, familiar sound in the quiet room that mingled with Atlas’ snores. It tugged at her throat as she sipped her coffee. When was the last time she had done her daughter’s hair? She couldn’t even remember that last day Abby sat on the bathroom counter while Beth pulled her hair back, giggling when she would kiss her cheek or make a face at her in the mirror. Now that same little girl was going into her senior year, and soon that same little girl would be headed off to college, and the quiet that settled over the house would be a different one. Beth bit her lip hard, blinking back the tears. Can’t cry through her entire senior year, Baker. Maybe she could cry just a little, though.

Abby’s voice broke the silence, soft but direct. “Are you excited?”

Beth blinked, unsure how to answer the question. Her throat tightened again for a moment before she responded, trying to keep the conversation light. “Am I excited? I wouldn’t say I’m excited. It’s just the same old same in a new building.”

Abby’s fingers paused, a small beat of hesitation before she gently continued brushing. “I know,” she said, as if she understood exactly what her mom meant. “But you liked your old job.”

Beth’s grip tightened around the mug in her hand, and her eyes drifted to the window. She swallowed, nodding slowly. “I did,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. She let out a small sigh, twisting around to smile up at Abby. “But... changes are fun, right? Maybe I am a little excited. It’ll be fun.”

The words felt like a lie, but she said them anyway, trying to convince herself as much as Abby. Change had never been Beth’s favorite thing, but the truth was, she had to make it work. She had to. Change was better than the alternative.

Abby’s fingers slowed, the silence stretching between them again. Then, as if the thought had just occurred to her, Abby’s voice cut through the quiet. “What about Doctor Mullet?”

Beth almost choked on her coffee, trying to mask her reaction with a casual sip. She was certain she’d gotten away with it. Of course, Abby wouldn’t let it slide. “Who?”

Abby scoffed dramatically, the brush halting in mid-air. “Oh my god. Don’t play dumb, Mom. I was high, but not that high. That whole interaction felt like it was produced by Shonda Rhimes.”

Beth grimaced, trying to steady herself, but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. "He’s just someone I knew a long time ago, babe. I was just surprised to see him. That’s all.”

“Is he why you cried through, like, half of The Tortured Poets Department?”

Yes.

“Of course not, Abby.”

“Whatever plunges your toilet, Mom,” Abby replied flippantly, her eyes rolling as she continued brushing.

Beth’s rolled her eyes, lips tugging up into a smirk. She leaned back slightly, lifting her mug again. “Don’t use your grandfather’s phrases against me, kid. I was there when they were written.”

“Seriously, Mom.” Abby’s tone shifted, turning more serious now. “Something happened and you’re not telling me. Parents aren’t supposed to lie to their children. You’re being a bad parent.”

Beth felt the pressure in her chest tighten for a brief moment. She wanted to brush it off, pretend it didn’t matter, but she knew that wouldn’t be enough for the bloodhound she was raising. “Oh relax, Abigail Quinn.” She took another sip, trying to disguise her unease.

Abby wasn’t buying it, and immediately started to double down while she twisted Beth’s hair up in an elastic. “I’m serious. I’ll start to feel unimportant and seek validation from unhealthy avenues. Before you know it, I’m stripping in a club by the airport, and it’ll be your fault.”

Beth laughed, but the sound was rough. “You’re incredibly dramatic, you know that?”

“Thanks,” Abby shot back. “I learned it from watching you.”

Beth couldn’t help but smile at that, but it faded as quickly as it came. She took another sip, but it felt more perfunctory than anything. “It’s a story for another time,” Beth muttered.

Abby sighed exaggeratedly. “Ugh, that’s just Mom-Code for you’re never going to tell me.”

Beth didn’t reply right away. She could feel Abby’s gaze on her, but for now, some things were better left unsaid. There were some stories that mothers just didn’t need to tell their daughters. She rolled her shoulders, giving Abby’s socked foot a gentle squeeze.

“Oh good, you’re catching on,” she teased, the corner of her lips quirking upward. Beth sat up a little straighter, lifting her coffee mug for another sip, then set it aside on the nightstand. She glanced at the clock. “Now, are you done up there, Paolo? I need to get going.”

“I’m done,” Abby replied, clearly pleased with herself. Beth pushed herself up, carefully touching the sleek ponytail that Abby had pulled her hair back into that did not feel like it needed the near ten minutes that went into it, but she’d take every single one of those minutes. Abby swung her legs back up onto the bed and flopped back into the pillows, returning to her scroll through TikTok without looking up at Beth. “I packed your lunch while you were in the shower. It’s on the counter.”

Beth tilted her head with a smile, taking in the gesture. “You’re making lunch for me now?” she asked, surprised.

Abby shrugged, her smile sheepish but warm. “It’s your first day,” she said, as if it explained everything. Her gaze softened a little, her hands stilled for a second as she met her mother’s eyes. “Tradition, right?”

Beth felt a little lump in her throat at that. She’d packed Abby’s lunch on the first day of school without fail since kindergarten. Every year, even if she had to pull herself out of bed after a night shift, she’d make sure to have it ready; sandwich, fruit, snack, little note tucked inside. It had started in a glittery pink unicorn lunchbox, the one Abby had insisted on year after year. As Abby grew, the lunchbox changed, of course. First a solid color, then something more grown-up. But Beth had never been able to part with the unicorn one. It was still tucked safely in a box at the back of her closet, where she didn’t dare look too often.

Damn it, maybe she was going to cry through senior year. She blinked back tears again and bent down to kiss Abby’s temple, tucking her hair behind her ear. She’d chastise her for going down the stairs without help later.

“Tradition,” Beth repeated, nodding, her smile wide and genuine now. She tugged on the black vest and reached for her mug once more before straightening up. “C’mon, let’s get you downstairs. You sure you’re going to be okay without me?”

Abby let Beth help her stand, accepting the steady hand without protest this time. Beth passed her the crutches, and Abby maneuvered them under her arms with a practiced ease that was still new enough to make Beth’s heart pinch. She followed her daughter out of the bedroom with Atlas padding loyally at Abby’s heels, his tail wagging like this was all just part of the routine.

Abby had been in much better spirits than she had been in the days immediately following her injury; laughing more, brushing off the awkwardness of her clunky boot with eye-rolls and sarcastic commentary rather than silence and swallowed frustration. Beth didn’t bring it up, but she suspected the Gavin boy might have something to do with it. Abby had been even more glued to her phone than usual the past few days, her smile sneaking out at texts she refused to show. Beth wasn’t going to press. Not yet, at least.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Abby replied, leaning against Beth as they started down the stairs instead of sliding down on her butt like she kept insisting was more efficient. “Mia’s gonna pick me up later, by the way. We’re going to the bookstore and then hanging at her place.”

“Who’s home?” Beth asked, guiding her down one slow step at a time.

“Her dad. It’s one of his work-from-home days today.”

Beth nodded, easing them both onto the ground floor without incident. She helped Abby over to the couch and lowered the crutches against the armrest.

“Okay. Make sure your location is on.”

“It’s on,” Abby said, collapsing into the cushions and tossing a throw blanket over her lap. “Don’t worry. I’d never deprive you of the opportunity to smother me.”

Beth rolled her eyes as she grabbed her backpack from the kitchen chair, absently picking up the lunch Abby had packed for her and the now-dented travel mug of coffee. The faint sound of The Office theme song echoed from the living room. Atlas, ever the loyal companion, jumped up on the couch and nestled against Abby, his head resting gently in her lap.

“Love you big,” Beth murmured, leaning over the back of the couch to plant a kiss on Abby’s head.

Abby looked up from her phone, a grin pulling at her lips. “Love you bigger.”

“It’s a beautiful day to save lives!” Abby called after her, her voice full of dramatic flair.

Beth made a face and scoffed as she grabbed her keys off the hook, barely containing a smile. “Gross.”

With a quiet laugh, Beth reached for her jacket on the hook by the door; just a habit she hadn’t quite shaken, even after all these years. Just reached for it when she left for her first day of classes freshman year at Penn and never stopped reaching. Her fingers brushed against the worn denim of the jacket and she paused, her hand hovering for a moment longer than necessary. She looked at it and brushed a thumb over the familiar fabric, and for a second, she wondered if she should take it.

But then, with a deep breath, she let go. Closing the door gently behind her, she stepped outside, leaving the jacket where it hung, untouched.

Cool morning air met her when she stepped out onto the porch and locked the door behind her. Autumn had started to take hold of the neighborhood, the sidewalks now dappled with the first few splashes of fallen leaves. Beth inhaled deeply and let the brisk air bite at her lungs as she reached her car parked at the curb, Abby’s little white Impreza tucked neatly in front of her.

For a moment after she slid in, she just sat there, hands resting on the wheel, her thoughts swirling in a space where time had slowed. She closed her eyes and took a heavy breath, and turned the key in the ignition, the engine humming to life beneath her hands.

Here goes nothing.

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfiction #jack abbot/oc #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot x oc #dr abbot x oc #dr abbot

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rafesbimbo · 26 days ago

Note

Hiii!! Can I request gynecologist rafe x fem reader that can’t orgasm and he helps her (some smut)

Tysm, love your stories!! <3

warnings: smut, taboo, age gap (19/29), medical kink, orgasm therapy, fingering, dirty talk, dominant!rafe, nervous!reader, lowercase

pairing: gynecologist!rafe cameron x fem!reader

you’re not sure what’s worse—the paper gown, the stirrups, or the fact that the man standing between your knees is painfully attractive.

dr. rafe cameron.

“first time?”

he asks, voice low and smooth. he doesn’t look like any doctor you’ve ever seen. slicked-back hair, perfect teeth, sleeves rolled up to show strong, veiny forearms. his gold watch catches the light.

you nod. “yeah.”

his eyes flick down to your trembling knees. “nervous?”

“a little,” you whisper, even though your heart’s beating so hard it’s making your chest ache.

he hums, scribbling something on the clipboard.

“you’re nineteen. no birth control. no active partners. but you made this appointment yourself. so what’s goin’ on, baby?”

your cheeks burn.

god.

this is so embarrassing.

you look down at your hands, fingers fidgeting in your lap.

“i… i can’t finish.”

his brow lifts. “what do you mean?”

you hesitate. then, in a small voice, “i’ve never had an orgasm. not with someone. not by myself.”

he doesn’t laugh. doesn’t make a face. he just stares at you for a second like he’s reading you.

“how long you been tryin’?”

you shrug. “a couple of years.. i thought something was wrong with me.”

he steps closer. “nothing’s wrong with you.” a pause. “some girls just need a little help.”

your breath catches. “you mean…?”

his voice drops. “i mean, if you’re open to it, i can do an internal evaluation. a hands-on assessment. we’ll go slow. see if we can figure out what’s keepin’ you from letting go.”

you blink up at him, wide-eyed. “that’s… allowed?”

he smiles. “with your consent? yeah, baby. i’m licensed to make you feel good.”

you shiver.

he helps you lie back on the table, spreading your legs gently into the stirrups. the gown falls open. you’re bare under it. skin prickles as the cool air hits your center.

his eyes drag down your body, hungry. “pretty little thing,” he mutters, almost to himself. then louder, “i’ll start with just one finger.”

you nod, breath shaky.

he gloves up, squirts a little lube onto his fingers, and presses one thick finger inside you. slow. smooth. your body clenches around the intrusion, and he pauses.

“tight,” he murmurs. “you ever use toys?”

you shake your head. “just fingers.”

“makes sense.” he pushes deeper, his other hand resting on your thigh to keep you still. “gonna feel around a little. let me know if anything feels good.”

you can’t speak—you’re already panting. he curls his finger upward, and your hips jolt.

he smirks. “there she is.”

he presses again. and again. and each time your back arches a little more. you’re gasping now, whimpering when he adds a second finger, stretching you wider.

his thumb brushes your clit, slow and steady. “you’ve been waitin’ for this, huh?”

“y-yeah,” you breathe.

“just needed someone to show you how your body works. someone who knows how to make you cum.”

his fingers speed up, thumb rubbing harder. your thighs shake, breath ragged.

“rafe—i—”

he mumbles low. “that’s dr. cameron to you, baby. say it.”

“dr. cameron,” you whine.

“that’s right. say it again when you come.”

your whole body is burning. your hands clutch the paper beneath you, hips grinding into his palm. it builds so fast you almost don’t believe it—your first real orgasm crashing through you like lightning, loud and hot and blinding.

you moan his name as you fall apart, legs trembling. he doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering, too sensitive to take it.

he finally pulls out, fingers glistening. he watches the way your pussy flutters, still clenching around nothing.

“fuck,” he mutters. “we’re definitely gonna need a follow-up appointment.”

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simpforboys · 6 months ago

Text

surprise!

drew starkey x fem!singer!reader

summary: ever since the reader started blowing up, all the interviews and promotions that would ask her who her celebrity crush is, she always had the same answer. so when Jimmy Fallon invites her on his show, he might have a surprise in store…

warnings: fluff!! second hand embarrassment, reader gushes about Drew, she’s just a fangirl at heart

‘perfume’ by del water gap mentioned <3

part two , part three, part four

2020

“Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Drew Starkey, he plays Rafe in Outer Banks.”

“Do you have a celebrity crush?

“Yeah, Drew Starkey from Outer Banks.”

“Are there any people you would hope to collab with or meet?”

“Definitely Drew Starkey from Outer Banks.”

2021

“Last year you said multiple times Drew Starkey is your celebrity crush, is this still true?”

“Yeah, he’s still my main one.”

“Are there any guys you’re interested in?”

“My dream guy is Drew Starkey, if that’s what you mean.”

“What’s your type in a man?”

“Umm… probably Drew Starkey.”

2022

“Update us on all the boy drama! Anyone interesting?”

“Just waiting for Drew Starkey.”

“You look stunning! Are you here with anyone tonight?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Your crush around Drew Starkey, is that still a thing?”

“It still is… have you seen his new movie ‘Hellraiser’?”

2023

“Your new EP just released, are any of the songs about Drew Starkey?”

“Not on this one, no. Maybe the next one.”

“Are you seeing anyone? Has Drew Starkey called?”

“No, not yet. Maybe next year.”

“Have you seen season three of ‘Outer Banks’ yet?”

“Yes, oh my god! Drew looked so good.”

2024

“Your new song ‘Perfume’ is an absolute hit! Is it about Drew Starkey?”

“Omg, no, but it should’ve been.”

“You’ve quickly risen to fame! Has Drew Starkey noticed you yet?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s probably hiding.”

Ever since your career started, in every single interview you get the question regarding celebrity crushes, the answer was always the same.

Drew Starkey.

It became a known meme revolving you and your fans, along with the media. Practically every interview just loved to teased you about your known celebrity crush.

Your popularity rose more in 2023 to 2024, so, when Jimmy Fallon reached out to you to have you on his show, your agency immediately agreed.

Standing behind the curtain wearing a tight brown suit, the pants wide-leg. Black boots were your choice of footwear, your makeup done perfectly to match the outfit.

“Ladies and gentlemen, bring your hands together for Y/n L/n!”

When Jimmy announced your name, you came out from behind the curtain, a big smile on your face as you waved to the audience.

Shaking hands and hugging some of the crew members before you finally hugged Jimmy, settling down in the blue chair.

“How are you doing tonight?” Jimmy asks with a warm smile.

“I’m doing good! Pretty nervous to be honest, this is my first talkshow.” You answered sincerely.

The audience clapped and Jimmy sunk back in his seat a little more.

“Well, I’m glad to be your first one! So, your new song ‘Perfume’ recently came out, congratulations on 200 million streams.”

“Thank you so much, really.” Your hands were shaking as you fidgeted with the brown fabric on your knee, one leg crossed over the other.

“So, you’ve been singing since 2020?” Jimmy asks.

“Yeah, I started posting videos on Tik Tok but my career really took off at the end of 2023 and now here we are.” You smile, the whole experience still so surreal.

“Your voice is phenomenal, seriously. I’ll need to have you come back and sing on the show for us.” Jimmy says, causing the audience to erupt into cheers.

You laughed a little, nodding your head. “Of course, anytime.”

Jimmy continued to talk to you for a few more minutes about your career, the conversation flowing smoothly as you cracked some nervous jokes.

“So, I have to ask, Y/n. Since your career began you’ve said your celebrity crush is Drew Starkey, can you tell us more about this?”

You felt your face get a little warm as you shifted in your seat, an anxious smile on your lips.

“I dunno, I guess I’ve just always found him attractive. He’s insanely talented and just seems like a very genuine soul.” You say sheepishly, avoiding looking at the camera.

“He’s also becoming more and more popular right now, with season four of ‘Outer Banks’ that came out in October and November along with his new movie ‘Queer’.” Jimmy adds on.

“Yeah, I’m a pretty big fan so I’ve been following along with it. I’m very proud of him, in like a supportive-fan way.” You say, making the audience laugh at the last part.

You were completely oblivious to Jimmy looking behind you, motioning with his hand underneath his desk.

“So it’s not just his looks?” Jimmy teases.

“I mean, he’s a very beautiful man. He looks good with any haircut especially that mullet he had last year — and oh my god, he just looked so good in season four of ‘Outer Banks.’ Plus he has these big biceps that just bulge out of any shirt.”

You hadn’t even realized you were gushing over your celebrity crush until you finally caught yourself, hearing the audience laughing.

“Oh, gosh. You are really into him, huh?” Jimmy teases.

“What would you do if he was standing right behind you?” The host asks.

If you weren’t so nervous from being on a national talkshow you probably would’ve understood his message.

But your brain caused you to miss it, being as oblivious as ever.

“Probably pass out.” You answered, hearing the audience giggle more. Jimmy had an amused grin on his face.

“Please don’t pass out.”

Your posture immediately straightened, body tense as you stood up from the seat.

Turning around, your heart dropped to your stomach when you saw Drew fucking Starkey standing there.

The audience’s laughter grew as well as Jimmy’s, clearly satisfied with the surprise.

Your hands went to cover your mouth, face feeling hot like you had a fever. You just gushed about this man practically to his face.

“Hi, Y/n. I’m Drew.”

You couldn’t respond, just in pure shock as you stare at the tall man.

Drew also looked a little sheepish, his cheeks pink as he grinned at you.

“Did you— did you hear everything?” You finally managed to choke out.

“Maybe.” Drew chuckled, scratching the side of his neck.

“How do you feel after hearing all that, Drew?” Jimmy chuckles.

“I’m honored,” Drew replies.

You hated the way he fucking said that and the way you understood that reference.

Drew held his hand out for you to shake, but your heart was beating too fast and your brain was turning into nervous mush that you just embarrassed yourself in front of your dream man.

“Are you going to shake his hand? Hug him?” Jimmy chuckled.

“I’m… scared.” You murmured, the audience swooning and giggling over your shyness.

“Can I hug you?” Drew asked.

Stunned, your head slowly nodded. His strong arms wrapped around your body, your forehead resting against his shoulder.

You couldn’t even hug him back properly, just too much in shock. He smelt like cologne and it made your knees weak.

“I love your new song, by the way.” Drew murmured softly in your ear.

“Yeah?” You whisper, feeling like an idiot for the way you were reacting in front of him.

Drew just nods and hums, soothingly caressing your back in an effort to calm you down.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up one last time for Y/n L/n and Drew Starkey!” Jimmy has to end the segment.

The audience cheers as Drew continues to embrace you.

He had known about you for the last few months, having a few of your songs in his playlists.

He was just constantly busy so he never really got the chance to reach out, but when Jimmy’s team contacted him about surprising you on the show, he was excited.

And nervous.

“Sorry about surprising you like that.” Jimmy comes over, causing you and Drew to finally pull away.

“You gave me trust issues for talkshows now.” You said jokingly, finally calming down a bit.

Drew and Jimmy both laughed softly.

The film crew told you and Drew that the commercial break would be ending soon so to step off stage.

You did your signature on the wall dedicated to Jimmy’s guests, feeling familiar blue eyes gazing at you.

After thanking each crew member and shaking hands or hugging, an assistant pointed you and Drew towards where a car will take you both back to your perspective hotels.

“You ready?” Drew asked you.

You nodded, feeling nervous due to the fact that you were about to be alone in the back of a car with your celebrity crush, other than the driver in the front.

Drew opened the door for you as you climbed in, hyperaware of how he slid in behind you onto the leather seat.

It was quiet for a few moments, you nervously fidgeting with the rings on your fingers.

“So… you like my new song?”

You finally manage to choke out.

Drew smiled softly, turning his head to look at you. He was still a little flustered at everything that happened, but also very amused.

“I do, yeah. Are you going to shoot a music video for it?” Drew asked.

You nod, making eye contact with him.

“Yeah, my idea is to tell a story about these two lovers who move to like a quieter part, I was thinking either the forest or a desert, that live in poorer conditions but are completely happy and content because they have each other. I want it to be full of love, so kissing, affection, a sex scene.”

You rambled on to him, your eyes falling to your hands as you played with your rings.

“Oh, wow. That sounds cool as fuck.” Drew murmured, also watching your hands fidget. He thought it was cute.

“I’ve had the idea in my head for a few years, actually. I started writing ‘Perfume’ in like… 2021? So, I just want everything to be perfect.”

You added on, looking back at him. He had his left leg crossed over his knee, his body language towards you.

“Well… if you need a male costar, I would love to do it.” He gave you a smile.

A small grin curled onto your lips, stomach hurting at realization of what he just implied.

“Yeah?”

He nodded, licking his lips.

“Mhm. I told you, I love the song. Plus, your idea sounds amazing, and if you want me to, I would love to be apart of it.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat when it finally hit you that Drew fucking Starkey wanted to be your on-screen lover.

“You’re not just fucking with me, right?”

You had to ask, blurting it out of your nervous mouth.

Drew just snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “No, I’m not.”

“Okay… I’ll have my manager reach out to your’s about details for when we start shooting. I appreciate it a lot.”

You were unaware the car finally came to a stop, parked outside your hotel, fans and security guards waiting for you.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be there. Have a good night, Y/n.”

Drew smiled at you, your heart fluttering.

“You too, Drew.”

You got out of the car, letting the security guards guide you inside the hotel. You tried your best to take photos or sign autographs for your dedicated fans, something Drew admired as he watched from the back of the SUV.

By the time you finally got back into your hotel room and kicked off your boots, you started taking off your jewelry.

Flopping down onto the bed, you grabbed your phone.

It felt like your heart dropped to your stomach when one notification specifically caught your eye.

@/drewstarkey started following you back

#simpforboys #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x singer!reader #drew starkey angst #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you

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joshujin · 2 months ago

Text

smile, s.coups

you take a photo with rapper s.coups at the met gala.

1.5k words • masterlist • submit a request pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader cw: none

the met gala isn't something you particularly enjoy attending, but every year, without fail, you're told you're invited and yes, you are going and no, as reigning "princess of the met," we cannot debate this. it's the trade-off for doing what you love and being who you are: no longer having a say and simply going where you're told to go, doing what you're told to do.

you honestly blame this on kwon soonyoung. he's been styling you since your popularity really started taking off, and when you got invited to your first met, it was his art that made you a viral topic for weeks on end. your name was everywhere. you couldn't give an interview without someone mentioning your met gala appearance. your third album released a few weeks later and thanks to the attention already on you, it nabbed you your first grammy nomination—and win.

and from there, for the last six years now, you haven't been able to escape this godforsaken party. and all because stupid soonyoung was just a tad bit too good at his job.

you don't want to sound ungrateful; you know being the topic of conversation at an event as big as this one year after year has opened a lot of doors for you—opportunities served to you on a platinum platter. but being at the met gala felt dystopian to you sometimes.

the blinding flashes, the demanding, almost primal screams of your name, the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent to throw the event, then the hundreds more spent on the fashion to attend.

it's a lot and it's not something you ever thought would be a priority when you first started creating music. but here you are, in line to walk the carpet with countless celebrities you still can't believe you are looped in with annually.

the nerves always make you near-despondent in the hours leading up to the event. you hardly talk to the staff that accompanies you—your assistant, manager, and soonyoung—you try not to make eye contact with anyone because you don't want to socialize until you're away from the carpet and away from the photographers, and you try to breathe slowly and deeply in a pathetically weak attempt to calm your heart down.

you fidget for the millionth time, and soonyoung adjusts whatever you fidgeted out of place for the millionth time.

"this is your sixth year," he murmurs gently as his eyes slowly and deliberately sweep up and down your body. you'd accuse him of checking you out if you didn't know that he was just admiring his own work. "this isn't anything you haven't already conquered. you're going to be great."

you give him the tiniest nod and he smiles, resting his hand on your arm briefly before stepping away. it's almost your turn. you raise your eyes and find yourself staring at grey hair. there's something familiar about his stature as the stranger steps forward, immediately welcomed with a wall of roars. it's as disorienting as it always is, but you catch his name early on.

"s.coups!" the name continuously echoes across the carpet.

"s.coups? the rapper?" you ask, looking over at your team, waiting for any one of them to answer. it's your assistant who does.

"yes, he's the ambassador for boss and it's his first time at the met," she steps up and recites it like it's memorized information.

no one ever asks her to, but she studies everyone on the guest list every year like she's in the devil wears prada. however ridiculous, you have to admit it is useful.

"huh," you say more to yourself than anyone.

you were familiar with the rapper and his work. you had even played around with the thought of reaching out to get him on a song, but the idea just never came to fruition. you've been too busy to do much of anything, let alone follow his career, but if the screams are any indication, the man's popularity has substantially grown since you first discovered his music.

it's a cacophony of his name, requests to turn, questions about his outfit, demands for a certain pose. your ear drums rattle at the noise. you're overstimulated. more than anything, you're impressed.

he moves forward to the next spot he's directed to, and you know that means it's your turn.

soonyoung hurriedly prepares your dress to fall the way he wants it to fall, to float where he wants it to float, to stun the world the way he always does. then, staff is waving you to your marker, and you comply, stepping forward.

the crowd gets impossibly louder, and you do your best not to flinch. you see s.coups freeze a little at the sudden increase in noise, and as you walk up to the marker, he turns around, eyebrows raised in curiosity at who could inspire this reaction. when his eyes land on you, it's clear he knows exactly who you are. his eyebrows settle as his lips curve into a warm and knowing smile that reaches up into his eyes.

for the first time in six years, everything is quiet on the carpet. for the first time, you're thankful for the flashes because it allows you to better see s.coups's face. his eyes. his insanely cherry red lips. for the first time, you're not thinking about how much you hate this part of your job or how badly you want to go back to your hotel room or if you'll make a fool of yourself trying to socialize inside.

all your brain can process is the rapper standing in front of you.

it all comes barreling back—the screams, the demands, the nervousness—when you feel soonyoung gently shove the small of your back with a tiny: "what the hell are you doing?"

"oh, sorry," you breathe as you take the last few steps to the tape on the floor.

you make sure you're standing where you need to be and when you look back up, his eyes are still on you, so you return his smile with a small one of yours. his becomes even wider. he turns back to the crowd of photographers, and you both pose for a few moments before the staff is ushering him to the next marker, and you to his current spot.

before he walks to where he's being asked to go, he grins at the photographers and shouts, "i know what you all are really waiting for!" and he makes a show of bowing away from the spot as you walk forward.

you can't help the amused giggle that escapes you, and even with all the sound, he seems to hear it because he looks up and smiles sweetly. you think he's done, but he suddenly offers his hand. and when you take it, not sure of where this is going, he escorts you to the space he was just standing in.

you kind of hope he'll kiss your hand too. that maybe it will leave remnants of his gloss on your skin and you can convince yourself he's real. but he doesn't, simply bowing his head infinitesimally before letting go and following the staff to his next spot.

but the photographers don't let you two get away with that. only a second or so passes before they're screaming at you two to take a photo together. you both try to ignore them at first, but they shout nothing else at you other than: "together! together!"

you sneak a look at s.coups to see that he's doing the same to you, making you both laugh. he tilts his head in question, and without answering, you walk over to meet in the middle. you expect to take the photo side by side, arms politely around each other's shoulders. maybe even just posing together with an awkward distance between.

instead, s.coups has his hands on your waist and guides you to be just a small step in front of him. he lets his left hand rest on your waist, his right slipping into the pocket of his pants. you're thankful that soonyoung's look required an insane amount of blush around your temples and eyes because your face feels like it's on fire.

he looks down at you once you're both positioned and he smiles. "this okay?" he asks quietly.

you nod. "yeah." you're not even sure if he can hear you. you can't force yourself to speak any louder. "it's okay."

he smiles. "good. can't have the princess of the met covered by a nobody like me."

you scoff. "you're definitely not a nobody."

"oh?" he tilts his head again, bits of grey hair falling into his eyes when he does. "and what makes you say that?"

"if you were a nobody, how would the princess of the met know you well enough to know she wants you on a track with her?"

his lips fall open in quiet shock, and you smirk and pat the hand that's resting on your waist.

"smile for the cameras, s.coups."

you don’t bother to wait and see the expression on his face when you reveal you know his stage name. you feel a little more in your element, turning back to the flashes just as a photographer shouts: "OKAY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, CAN YOU TWO PLEASE LOOK AT US NOW?!"

a/n: short and sweet. just felt like writing something while i was streaming this stupid event waiting for seungcheol hehe. it ended up being for nothing bc i completely missed him (or the vogue stream didn't show him, i still don't know). edit: the vogue stream didn’t show him. RAGGEDY BITCH BEHAVIOR!!!! anyway, they definitely bang in some isolated bathroom in the museum far away from the party, but i didn't feel like torturing my single brain cell to produce smut today lmao

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x you #seventeen imagines #svt smau #seventeen scenarios #seungcheol x you #scoups x reader #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen smau #seventeen fic #svt fic #{ 📝 } → joshujin fic

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seokwrts · 15 days ago

Text

SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN

KIM MINGYU | nsfw one shot

synopsis : at a wild college party, tension that’s been simmering for weeks finally ignites when Y/N is dared to spend seven minutes in heaven with her cocky, dangerously attractive friend, Mingyu. What starts as a game quickly turns into a heated encounter neither of them will forget—changing everything between them in just seven minutes.

“Seven minutes, let’s see how many times I can make you fall apart before time’s up”

pairing : kim mingyu x f!reader

genre : college au , smut , friends to lovers , mutual pining , forced proximity

word count : 8.1k

warnings : MDNI , sexual content, unprotected sex, sexual innuendo, explicit language, suggestive dialogue, public teasing, mild slut-shaming, mild alcohol use, casual intimacy, and emotionally charged group dynamics.

Y/N was already regretting the second layer of lip gloss when Elle grabbed her by the arm.

“Stop fidgeting,” Elle groaned, eyeing her in the mirror. “You look hot. Slutty, but hot.”

Y/N laughed, brushing a final touch of mascara onto her lashes. “Thanks. I was going for college party, but make it unbothered and slightly unhinged.”

“You nailed it,” Elle said, sliding in her gold hoops with a wink. “Especially the unbothered part. The lip gloss screams, I’m not desperate, but I will step on you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and reached for her leather jacket. “Okay, relax.”

Elle snorted. “Relax? Please. I’ve seen the way you spiral when Mingyu walks into the room.”

Y/N paused. Jacket half on.

“I don’t spiral.”

“Babe,” Elle said, turning to face her fully. “You go feral. Your entire soul leaves your body. I’ve watched it happen. It’s like a full-blown event.”

“I do not go feral,” Y/N insisted, but her face was already heating.

“You literally gasped the last time he wore that grey hoodie that hugs his back like it owes him money.”

“It was a really good hoodie,” Y/N muttered defensively.

“You said, and I quote, ‘That man could ruin my credit score and I’d say thank you.’”

Y/N flopped onto the edge of the bed, groaning into her hands. “Why do you remember everything embarrassing I say?”

“Because your crush on Mingyu is the highlight of my college experience,” Elle said brightly, grabbing her phone. “It’s adorable. Tragic. A little thirsty. But mostly adorable.”

Y/N gave her a look. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“You’ve had a crush on him for how long now? Like… since freshman year?”

“More like the first week of freshman year,” Y/N admitted, voice muffled behind her hands. “He said hi to me in the dining hall line and I forgot how to speak.”

Elle cackled. “So tonight’s the night, then?”

“The night for what?”

“The night your Mingyu thirst saga becomes a spicy enemies-to-lovers one-shot instead of a silent, slow-burn pining fic with no plot.”

Y/N groaned again, but this time she was laughing too. “I hate you.”

“You love me. And I love that I’m manifesting your hot girl era.”

She finally stood, adjusting her skirt one last time. “Okay. Let’s go before you start making vision boards.”

They left the dorm around ten, walking into the night like it owed them something. The sidewalks glistened faintly under streetlights from the late drizzle, and the air had that early fall edge—cool enough to raise goosebumps, warm enough not to care.

Y/N clutched her phone in one hand, jacket draped over her shoulders like armor. Every step closer to the party made her heart beat just a little faster.

She didn’t know if tonight would change anything.

But she knew this much:

She looked good. She felt ready.

And if Mingyu looked anything like he usually did—tall, golden-skinned, all stupid charm and sharp jawlines—she was doomed.

Elle bumped her hip against Y/N’s as they reached the end of the block. “Last chance to turn around.”

Y/N took a breath, heart thudding.

“Not a chance.”

The bass thumped through the walls before Y/N and her best friend even stepped inside. It pulsed like a second heartbeat, loud and deep, making the air buzz. “This is packed,” her friend muttered, tugging at the hem of her top as they stepped into the crowded house. Laughter, chatter, and music overlapped into a chaotic hum. Warm bodies pressed close, red cups in nearly every hand, and low amber lights turned the living room into a hazy blur of movement and heat.

Y/N didn’t respond. She barely even heard her.

Because her eyes had already locked onto him. Mingyu.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter like it was his throne. Red cup in hand, head tilted slightly back as he laughed at something someone said. Not just laughed—threw his whole body into it, like he didn’t know how to do anything halfway. His black shirt clung to his broad chest like it had been stitched directly onto his skin. It was criminal, honestly. The way the sleeves hugged his biceps, the way the fabric stretched slightly across his shoulders, the way—

God.

The silver chain at his collarbone gleamed when he turned slightly, catching the light. His dark hair was pushed back casually, revealing the sharp cut of his jawline, the arch of his cheekbones, the perfect curve of his lips. And that smirk?

Deadly. Slow. Deliberate.

She froze. And then he looked up—and noticed her.

Their eyes locked across the room. A beat. Then another. He didn’t look away. His gaze stayed on hers, unwavering, as if everything else had blurred into background noise. He tipped his chin up slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking just enough to say: Yeah. I see you.

Neither did she look away.

“Oh shit,” her best friend whispered, following Y/N’s stare and practically bouncing with excitement. “Is it finally happening?”

“Shut up,” Y/N muttered, but her voice lacked heat. She was too busy trying not to combust. Her lips curled up despite herself. Heat was already blooming on her cheeks, rising up her neck.

Her friend elbowed her. “Go talk to him.”

“What? No.” Y/N blinked and tore her gaze away. “I literally just got here.”

“So? He noticed you. You noticed him. The vibe is already vibing.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but peeked back toward the kitchen. Mingyu was still watching her, now sipping from his cup. Slow. Lazy. Confident.

“I can’t just walk over there,” she muttered.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll look desperate!”

Her best friend gave her a look. “Girl. You’ve had a crush on him since the first econ lecture. You doodled his initials in your notes.”

“I did not.”

“You did. With hearts.”

Y/N groaned, trying to hide her face in her hands, but the thump of the music gave her away. She peeked again.

Mingyu had shifted. He was still leaning against the counter—but now his body was angled slightly in her direction. His thumb tapped against his cup rhythmically, and then—he raised a brow. Just a little.

Was he—waiting?

Y/N’s breath hitched.

“Okay, but what do I even say?” she mumbled.

Her friend raised a brow. “Hi?”

“I swear to god—”

But before she could finish, someone bumped into her from behind, forcing her a step forward. “Sorry!” the girl called out, weaving through the crowd, clearly already tipsy.

Y/N’s heart skipped. That step had brought her even closer to the kitchen. And now—

“Too late,” her friend grinned, gently pushing her. “You’re halfway there.”

Y/N turned around to glare, but her friend only shrugged. “You look hot tonight. Stop overthinking it.”

Y/N swallowed, nerves buzzing under her skin. She glanced down at herself—the fitted black tank top, the skirt that hit mid-thigh, the subtle gloss on her lips. Okay. She didn’t look terrible. But still.

Before she could chicken out, Mingyu pushed off the counter.

Y/N froze. He took a few steps forward, weaving through the party without breaking eye contact. Her stomach flipped.

“Hey,” he said, voice low but audible over the music. “You just get here?”

Oh god. His voice. That deep, smooth, slightly amused tone that made everything sound like a joke he was letting her in on.

“Uh—yeah,” she managed, heat flooding her cheeks again. “Just walked in.”

He smiled. “You looked kind of like a deer in headlights. Cute though.”

Y/N let out a soft, nervous laugh. “I was… trying to decide if the house was structurally sound. It’s shaking.”

Mingyu chuckled, tipping his head. “Fair. Pretty sure the upstairs bathroom’s already out of commission.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“Neither is the guy who just took a beer bong in the bathtub.”

Y/N laughed for real this time, and his smile widened like it had been waiting for that sound.

“I’m Mingyu, by the way,” he said, though he definitely didn’t need to.

“I know,” she blurted, then immediately wanted to slam her head into a wall. “I mean—I’ve seen you around. Econ.”

“I know,” he echoed, and the smirk returned. “You sit in the third row. Always take notes with colored pens.”

“You’ve noticed that?”

“Hard not to when you keep borrowing highlighters from me.”

Y/N blinked. “You remember that?”

Mingyu nodded. “I remember you.”

There was a beat of silence. Then two.

“You wanna grab a drink?” he asked, tilting his head toward the kitchen.

She hesitated, just for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

As they walked side by side, the crowd seemed to part a little. Or maybe it was just her pulse drowning everything else out. She glanced up at him, and he caught her looking again.

This time, he didn’t smirk. He just looked at her—calm, sure, a little curious.

And Y/N suddenly thought that maybe—just maybe—this night was going to change everything.

Soon, the friend group clustered in the living room, half-tipsy and buzzing with energy. Someone had turned the music down just enough that voices filled the space — overlapping, loud, laced with laughter. Someone else had dragged in extra chairs, but most people chose to settle onto cushions, the floor, or sprawled across each other like drunken dominos.

Y/N ended up sitting directly across from Mingyu.

The group didn’t seem to notice, too busy trying to argue over what game to play next. Elle had already taken off her heels, her feet tucked under her as she flopped sideways onto Soonyoung’s legs.Soonyoung, ever the dramatic, moaned in protest but didn’t move. Yoona passed around a half-full bottle of vodka like a sacrament. Chan was perched in the center of the group like a queen about to announce her decree.

Y/N curled her legs beneath her and accepted the red cup Elle handed her. Her fingers felt too warm around the plastic. Her skin buzzed. And she didn’t have to look up to know why.

Mingyu sat across from her, lounging with one elbow resting lazily on his bent knee, his other hand still loosely holding his cup. His dark eyes tracked across the room—but whenever they passed over her, they paused. And lingered.

He wasn’t smiling. Not like he usually did when he told loud jokes or teased Jae for being overly dramatic. No, tonight, Mingyu just watched. Quiet. Intense. His gaze didn’t waver when it landed on hers.

Y/N took a sip to ground herself, lips brushing the rim of her cup a little too slowly. She could still feel him looking. When she finally met his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitched. Barely. Like a secret only she was in on.

Across the room, Soonyoung nudged Seungkwan.

“Okay but someone better come up with a game before I start ranking all my exes from worst to absolutely-freaking-trash.”

“You already did that last week,” Seungkwan said, flipping an imaginary strand of hair over his shoulder. “You put Soobin below the guy who cheated on you and stole your oat milk.”

“Because Soobin has zero rhythm. Zero. That’s a crime on its own.”

Laughter rippled around the group, but Y/N barely registered it. Mingyu was still watching her — openly now. No more subtle glances.

She arched a brow at him over the rim of her cup, almost as if to ask What?

He tilted his head. You tell me, his eyes seemed to reply.

The whole room snapped back into focus when Elle clapped once, loud and attention-grabbing.

“Alright, babies,” she announced, clearly reveling in her chaos gremlin energy. “Truth or dare. Let’s do this.”

“Oh god, here we go,” Jae muttered, already burying his face in a throw pillow. “Elle’s drunk enough to start trauma-digging.”

“No trauma, I promise!” Elle said brightly. “Just lighthearted emotional destruction.”

Everyone groaned, laughed, cheered. Jihoon tossed an empty bottle into the center of the circle.

“Who even suggested this?” Chan asked, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his palms.

“I think it was me,” Joshua shrugged. “But, like, ironically.”

“Nothing’s ever ironic with you,” Mingyu said, his voice a low rumble that sent goosebumps down Y/N’s arms. It was the first time he’d spoken in a while.

Everyone turned to look at him. Elle raised an eyebrow.

“Wow. Look who finally speaks.”

“I was enjoying the show,” he said simply, but his eyes hadn’t left Y/N.

She flushed under the weight of it.

The group noise swelled again — teasing, laughing — but to Y/N, it all felt distant. The tension between them hummed like an invisible thread pulled taut between where they sat.

She tried to look away. She really did.

But the thing about Mingyu was that he never made it easy to escape. He didn’t do anything — didn’t speak again, didn’t smile, didn’t lean forward — but somehow, he still managed to feel like gravity.

The bottle spun once. Loud whoops followed. It hadn’t landed on either of them, but Mingyu barely glanced away.

Neither did Y/N.

Because while the group dissolved into dares and truths and confessions that drew gasps and groans — the real game, at least for now, was the one being played in silence.

Just eyes. Just him and her.

And a tension so thick it practically crackled in the air between them.

A few rounds in, the game had completely unraveled into the kind of glorious chaos only semi-drunk college students could create. Laughter echoed through the living room, drinks were half-finished or completely forgotten, and the air practically shimmered with the energy of too many confessions, too much heat, and no boundaries.

Y/N shifted slightly where she sat, her legs curled under her. Across the circle, Mingyu leaned back on one arm, fingers lazily tapping his knee. Every time she laughed at something someone said, she could feel his eyes flick back to her. And every time she glanced up—he was already looking.

His gaze didn’t move. He didn’t smile. He just watched her. Like he was waiting.

“Okay, okay,” Elle shouted over the noise, holding the bottle aloft. “Back to the game or I swear I’ll start asking real questions.”

That sobered them up a little.

“Alright,” she said, spinning the bottle dramatically. It clinked over the hardwood before landing on Jae.

He raised his hands like a guilty man surrendering.

“Let’s get it over with.”

“Dare,” Elle smirked.

He groaned, already dreading it.

“I dare you to give someone in this circle a lap dance.”

Laughter exploded instantly. Soonyoung nearly fell over. Seungkwan started drumming a rhythm on his cup like it was a strip club beat.

“You people are unwell,” Jae said, standing up anyway.

“Choose someone!” Elle grinned, clapping her hands.

Jae looked around dramatically, then sighed.

“Seungkwan, I hope you’re ready for the worst thirty seconds of your life.”

“Oh honey,” Seungkwan said, fanning himself. “Make me regret this.”

And he did. The performance was tragic, all exaggerated hip rolls and fake body rolls. The room was in hysterics by the time he collapsed back into his spot.

“Okay, okay,” Seungkwan said breathlessly, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“My turn.”

The bottle landed on Yoona.

“Truth,” Yoona said smoothly.

“Who would you sleep with in this room if no one ever found out?”

Dead silence.

Everyone sat up a little straighter.

Yoona didn’t blink.

“Mingyu.”

That got reactions. Whoops, cheers, and one very dramatic gasp from Jae.

Y/N’s throat tightened. She didn’t even realize she’d tensed until she caught Mingyu out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t even react — just sipped his drink, eyes flicking briefly to Y/N, unreadable.

Elle was already laughing.

“Okayyy, spicy! Let’s keep it going.”

Next spin. It landed on Jihoon.

“Dare,” Jihoon said, ready for blood.

Soonyoung grinned.

“Kiss the person you’d never admit you had a thing for.”

The room tensed.

Jihoon stood, walked right past Chan and Joshua — and kissed Elle.

It wasn’t dramatic or showy. Just a quick, firm kiss that left Elle blinking and the entire group losing their minds.

“You are not okay,” Elle said, cheeks flushed.

“I’m very okay,” Jihoon smirked, sitting down again like he hadn’t just shifted the entire friend group dynamic.

“Alright,” Elle breathed, grinning like a devil. “Y/N.”

The bottle had landed on her, of course. All eyes turned.

Y/N blinked slowly. “Dare.”

Elle didn’t hesitate. “I dare you to play Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

That drew a chorus of “ooooh”s, a few dramatic gasps, and someone (probably Jae) whisper-yelling “IT’S HAPPENING.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

Elle’s grin deepened. “With… Mingyu.”

Dead. Silence.

Someone dropped their cup. Jae let out a long, drawn-out, “Holy. Shit.”

Y/N’s heart beat loud in her ears.

Across the circle, Mingyu looked… unaffected. His drink rested in his hand, the silver chain at his throat catching the light. He didn’t say anything. Just looked at her.

She cleared her throat. “Maybe that’s not fair. Like, what if he’s uncomfortable—”

“I’m not,” Mingyu said, voice low.

She blinked. “Oh.”

“I’m game if you are.”

Elle squealed. “OH. My god. Up. Now.”

“I hate you,” Y/N muttered, but Elle was already grabbing her by the wrist.

Mingyu stood slowly, every movement unhurried, smooth. He brushed past a few pillows and offered no defense. No jokes. He didn’t look embarrassed. Didn’t look cocky either.

He looked like a man who’d been waiting for this moment.

Jae shouted from the back, “Use protection!”

Yoona added, “Use your time wisely!”

“Make it worth it!” Hana yelled, raising her cup like it was a wedding toast.

Y/N wanted the floor to swallow her.

Elle ignored all of it. She had Y/N in one hand, Mingyu in the other, leading them down the dim hallway like a proud matchmaker.

As they passed the rest of the group, Yoona shouted, “SEVEN MINUTES—NOT A SECOND LESS!”

Elle pushed open the second door on the right with her hip and turned toward them with a wicked grin.

“Enjoy yourselves,” she said, backing away slowly. “We’ll be listening.”

Then she closed the door behind them.

Click.

“Have fun, lovebirds!” Elle shouted through the door, her voice muffled but smug.

The latch clicked shut. The sound echoed louder than it should’ve.

And then—silence.

The kind that wrapped around you like smoke.

Y/N didn’t move. Neither did he. The soft hum of bass-heavy music seeped through the walls, but inside the dim room, it felt like they were miles away from everything. Just the two of them. Her heart was hammering in her chest, but she forced herself to breathe slowly. To look casual.

Across the room, Mingyu stood with his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, like this wasn’t completely insane. Like he hadn’t just agreed to seven uninterrupted minutes alone with her in front of all their friends.

He tilted his head slightly. “So… this is happening.”

She shrugged, arms crossed over her chest. “Looks like it.”

The corners of his mouth curled, slow and lazy. That damn smirk. It always said more than words. “Nervous?”

“Should I be?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you’ve been thinking about this as much as I have.”

Y/N froze.

The words hung between them, weighty and soft all at once.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” he added, voice dipping lower. “You probably thought I didn’t notice.”

She gave a short laugh. “Please. You were staring first.”

He didn’t deny it. “Maybe.”

She took a slow step forward, chin tilted. “You’re cocky.”

He didn’t flinch. Just raised a brow. “You like it.”

She pretended to consider it. “Mmm. I like watching you think I have no idea how hot you are.”

His laugh was low and genuine. “You think I don’t know?”

“I think you really like being the center of attention.”

“I wasn’t looking for attention.” He paused. “Just yours.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

There was something dangerous about the way he was looking at her—like she was both a mystery he’d already solved and a secret he couldn’t wait to open.

Her pulse quickened. She hated how warm she felt under his stare. How every inch of him seemed like it had been made to drive her insane. That chain at his collarbone. The black shirt that clung just right. The calm in his voice like he knew he had her off-balance.

“So what are we supposed to do in here?” she asked, lightly, like she didn’t already feel like combusting.

Mingyu took a step closer. Just one. But it was enough.

His gaze dropped to her lips for the briefest second before returning to her eyes. “Anything we want.”

Her stomach flipped.

“You talk like you’ve thought about this.”

“I have.”

She blinked.

“I’ve thought about what your mouth tastes like when you smile like that,” he murmured. “What you’d sound like if I kissed you right.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

“And?” she said, voice thin.

“And I’m kind of dying to find out.”

The heat spread down her neck, goosebumps prickling along her skin. She told herself to stay cool, to tease him, but he was already undoing her with just his words.

Still, she lifted her chin, letting her voice come out playfully — if slightly shaky. “Then I dare you,” she said softly, “to kiss me.”

A slow grin stretched across Mingyu’s lips. “Finally,” he murmured.

Then he stepped forward and kissed her.

Not soft. Not tentative.

It was the kind of kiss that came after too many nights of almosts. Of eyes meeting across parties and flirty inside jokes, of hands brushing accidentally-on-purpose, of imagining it a hundred different ways.

His hands found her waist like they belonged there. Her fingers fisted into his shirt, tugging him closer without thinking.

The kiss deepened — hot and needy, tasting like all the tension they’d tried to brush off.

She gasped against his mouth as he guided her back, her shoulder blades pressing gently against the wall. He kissed her like he’d been holding back. Like the last straw had snapped the moment that door shut.

His lips moved down to her jaw, then just below her ear, and she sucked in a breath, fingers tightening in his shirt.

“Mingyu,” she whispered.

He didn’t stop.

“Say that again,” he murmured, lips brushing her skin.

She shivered.

“You think I’ve been staring all night?” he whispered, voice ragged now. “You have no idea.”

Her fingers slid up into his hair, pulling slightly. His groan was low — and it only made her pull again.

“I liked it,” he added, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “I liked watching you try not to look at me.”

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered.

“Tell me to stop.”

She didn’t.

Instead, she kissed him again.

This one was slower. Less rushed. More dangerous.

Because it felt like it meant something.

Like it was the start of something that couldn’t be undone.

His hands slid under the hem of her top — not to push, just to feel. Her skin was hot. His touch was cooler than she expected. Her head was spinning and she didn’t care.

They kissed like they’d waited too long for this. Like they were trying to make up for every second wasted.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered the timer. The fact that in a few minutes, someone was going to knock or yell or open the door, and this spell would break. But for now…

Mingyu kissed her again — slower this time, like he had all the time in the world.

She kissed him back like they didn’t.

Like seven minutes wasn’t nearly enough.

She had seven minutes.And right now, every single second was on fire.

Mingyu’s breath was fire against her skin, every exhale like a secret whispered directly to her pulse. His hands were already at her sides, firm, confident, sliding lower with maddening slowness until they gripped her hips. He pressed her fully against the wall, one thigh slipping between hers like it belonged there.

“You’re mine for the next seven minutes,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, the kind of tone that curled around her spine and made her stomach drop. “And I intend to make every second count.”

Y/N’s breath came in short, sharp bursts, her back arching slightly into him. She could feel the heat rolling off his body, his presence caging her in without ever feeling suffocating. No, it was addictive. Too much, not enough, all at once.

She turned her head slightly, enough to glance at him over her shoulder. Her voice was shaky, but it held a thread of defiance. “Cocky.”

Mingyu’s lips grazed the shell of her ear. “Not cocky. Certain.”

She shivered. “Of what?”

“That you want this just as much as I do.” His mouth brushed her earlobe. “Maybe more.”

She exhaled sharply, heart pounding. “You think you know everything.”

His hands slipped up, fingers tracing the curves of her waist, thumbs pressing into the small of her back. “No,” he said, voice soft and deliberate. “But I know this.”

He leaned in, slowly, until his body was flush against hers, chest to back, heat to heat. His thigh pressed more firmly between hers, nudging her legs apart. Her breath hitched.

“You’ve been driving me insane for weeks,” he continued. “Those looks? The way you bite your lip and act like you don’t notice me watching you? Every time you laugh and glance away like I don’t see it.”

His mouth dipped lower, trailing along her neck. She gasped when his teeth grazed skin, light but deliberate.

“You knew this was coming,” he said, lips brushing her pulse point now. “Didn’t you?”

She swallowed hard. Her voice came out rough. “Maybe.”

He chuckled, low and dark. “No maybe about it.”

Then he turned her.

In one fluid motion, he spun her gently but firmly, pressing her back to the wall this time. His eyes swept over her face, lingering at her lips, dark with hunger and tension and something deeper—curiosity, maybe. Like he was memorizing her in real time.

“I’ve thought about this,” he admitted, his hands settling on her thighs. “What you’d look like like this. All flushed, breathless. Mine.”

“You act like you already own me,” she whispered.

Mingyu’s lips brushed hers without fully kissing her. “Don’t I?”

Y/N stared at him, heart thudding violently. Her hands fisted into his shirt. “Prove it.”

He smirked, the tension between them sparking like static.

Then he dropped his head and kissed her—really kissed her.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t careful.

It was full of pent-up tension, slow-burning frustration, and raw, hungry want. He kissed her like he was starving and she was the only thing he’d ever craved. Her body melted into his, hands tangling in his hair as she kissed him back, matching his intensity beat for beat.

When they broke apart, both breathless, he rested his forehead against hers.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured.

“Then stop talking,” she whispered, “and do something about it.”

A growl built in his throat as he dropped to his knees in front of her. She gasped, her hand flying to his shoulder for balance as he ran his hands up her legs, slow and reverent. Her skirt hitched up easily under his touch, the air cool against her skin.

“This—” he said, gripping her thigh firmly and lifting it over his shoulder, “—is dangerous.”

Her breathing was shallow now, hands in his hair, thighs tightening around him.

His lips grazed the inside of her thigh, trailing kisses that made her legs shake. “You’re shaking,” he whispered, almost teasing.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible.”

He rose again suddenly, gripping her wrists and pinning them gently above her head. The movement was smooth, practiced. Her breath caught at the shift, the way his body fully claimed hers without crossing any lines—he was in control, but only because she let him.

Their eyes locked. “Say the word,” he whispered. “Tell me you want this too.”

Y/N stared up at him, chest heaving. Then, in a voice that was all fire and surrender, she said, “I want this.”

He kissed her again—deeper this time, hungrier, his body pressing hers harder into the wall. One hand slid down to her hip, the other slipping between her thighs, slow and purposeful. His fingers hooked into her panties, dragging them down in agonizing, teasing inches.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his voice a low growl. “So wet already. For me.”

Her head fell back against the wall, a sound leaving her lips that was equal parts surprise and pleasure as his fingers teased her slick heat.

“Touch me,” she begged, voice barely audible.

He lifted his head, eyes dark. “Like this?” he murmured, running a finger between her folds—soft, slow, then with pressure that made her cry out softly.

Her hips rolled into his hand instinctively.

“God, you’re perfect,” he said, kissing her jaw, her throat. “All of this? Mine. Tonight.”

You shiver. Then—one finger. Then two. Sliding in, curling, stroking.

Your hips jerk instinctively, breath catching as he finds that perfect spot too easily, like he’s memorized you already. His touch is confident—devastating. Each movement is deliberate. Calculated.

Your legs tremble, muscles tightening as your head falls back against the wall. Mingyu’s free hand wraps firmly around your waist, anchoring you in place, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“You feel that?” he murmurs against your neck, voice rich and low, the sound alone enough to make you ache. “How your body reacts to me?”

You manage the softest sound—half gasp, half whimper—and it only seems to spur him on.

“I’m going to make you cum like this first,” he whispers, lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear. “Then I’m going to fuck you—slow, deep, until you’re gasping my name.”

Your breath stutters, caught in your throat. You try to speak, to say something, but nothing comes out. Just the broken sound of want.

He chuckles, low and rough, the sound vibrating through your chest. “You like being teased, don’t you?”

You nod, just barely. It’s all you can manage. Your hands clutch the front of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric as your knees threaten to give out beneath you.

“Good,” he says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, slow and hot. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Then it hits.

You come hard on his fingers, your body arching off the wall, a sharp gasp ripping from your lips as everything inside you clenche around him. Your vision blurs. Legs shake. And Mingyu just watches. Watch you fall apart for him, wearing that same maddening smirk he’s had all night—the one that says he knew this would happen from the second you walked into the room.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, withdrawing his fingers with slow, teasing precision. He holds your gaze as he lifts them to his lips and sucks one clean. “Knew you’d be like this.”

You’re still catching your breath, still blinking through the haze of your high, when his fingers move to the button of his jeans. One flick. Then the zipper. And he pushes them down just far enough—just enough to make your breath hitch again.

He’s already hard. Already waiting.

“Still quiet?” he asks, his voice velvet over steel.

You find your voice—barely. “Trying to figure out what’s bigger—your ego, or…”

His smirk sharpens. “You’ll find out.”

“Seven minutes,” he said, eyes dark with challenge. “Let’s see how many times I can make you fall apart before time’s up.” You smirked, breathless but bold. “You talk a big game, Mingyu.” He grabbed your waist and spun you around, guiding you onto the bed with a cocky laugh. “You started it, sweetheart.”

You let him position you, his grip strong on your thighs, spreading you open beneath him like he’d dreamed of doing it a hundred times. He hovered just above, his mouth a breath away from yours, eyes flicking over your flushed face, your parted lips.

“You think you’re the first guy to say that?” you said, a breathy taunt, even as your chest heaved.

He stilled for half a second. Then a slow grin curled across his face—dangerous and devastating.

“No,” he muttered, voice low as sin, “but I’ll be the one you remember.”

And then he pushed in—slow, deep, devastating and he was inside you

Your mouth fell open in a gasp soundless moan, back arching, a breathy curse escaping you. The stretch made your thighs quiver, a delicious ache settling deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Okay… point proven.”

Mingyu leaned down, lips brushing your ear, his voice thick and rough. “That’s it? No more snark?”

You wrapped your legs around his waist and dragged your nails lightly down his back, breath hitching. “Didn’t want to throw you off your game. I assumed you needed quiet to focus.”

He growled a laugh—deep, low, and full of heat. “You think this is me focusing?”

His hips rolled harder, pushing deeper, and your breath stuttered. You moaned loudly and answer

“You’re cocky,” you murmured, lips brushing his jaw.

“You love it,” he fired back, thrusting again.

Your body rocked with him, the friction building like fire beneath your skin. “I like watching you try to impress me.”

“I like watching you fall apart,” he rasped, grinding his hips in a way that made your toes curl.

He dipped his head to your neck, dragging his lips along your pulse, where it beat wild and fast. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His hand slid up your side, fingertips skimming just under your top, and when your hips met his in rhythm, his breath caught.

“You’ve got…” you smirked against his skin, voice breathless, “like five minutes left.”

He rolled his hips, angled just right, and you moaned again—louder. “Then I better make it count,” he said, watching you come undone beneath him. “Say my name.” You bit your lip. “Make me.” His eyes flashed, and he grinned like he was about to ruin you—in the best possible way.

He grabs your hips and snaps into you harder. “Fuck, the way you squeeze around me—like you were made for this.”

You throw your head back against the pillow, a moan slipping past your lips before you can stop it.He leans down, lips ghosting over your jaw. “Look at you,” he whispers. “So cocky earlier. Now you’re moaning like you need me.”

Your eyes meet his, blazing. “I do need you,” you pant, voice breathless but challenging.

“Just not sure you can finish the job in time.” That lights something in him. “Oh, baby,” Mingyu laughs darkly, “I’m going to ruin you in four minutes flat.” He lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder and thrusts deeper—hard, rhythmic, relentless.

“Feel that?” he rasps. “That’s me splitting you open. Taking what’s mine.” You claw at his back, eyes fluttering shut. “Harder.” He obeys instantly. You moan out aloud

“You like being used like this, don’t you?Like the slut you are” he groans. “You like me fucking you full in some random bedroom while our friends wait outside?”

“Say it,” he demanded, voice low and commanding, as his hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “I want to hear from you.”

“Yes,” you moan, voice wrecked. “You’re dripping for me,” he snarls against your throat. “So damn wet—like your body knew what was coming the second we walked in here.” as he grabs your breast, squeezing firmly as his thrusts grow harder, rougher—each movement making your body jolt beneath him

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a growl from deep in his throat. His lips brush over your neck, your collarbone, anywhere he can reach as you arch into him.

“Shut up and make me cum again,” you snap, breathless but cocky, the edge in your voice sharp despite how wrecked you already feel.

His breath stutters, the challenge lighting something feral in his eyes. “Oh, I will,” he murmurs, voice rough and low, like it’s scraping from somewhere deep inside him. “But you’re not walking out of here without begging for it first.”

The arrogance in his tone makes heat bloom low in your stomach. “Then make me beg, Mingyu. If you think you’ve earned it.”

That did it. His jaw clenched, a low growl vibrating from his chest as his hips snapped forward, rough and unrelenting. The pace shifted—no longer slow and teasing, but fierce, almost punishing.

“I’ll fuck you until you forget your name,” he ground out, breath hot against your skin.

Your breath stuttered, caught between a gasp and a moan, pleasure blooming in your veins. “I’ll scream yours instead.”

“Good,” he hissed, leaning in until your foreheads touched, his eyes dark and focused entirely on you. “Because that’s all I want to hear for the next—” he threw a glance at the door, sweat glistening at his temple, “—two minutes.”

You bit your lip, heart hammering. Every nerve ending was lit up, your body thrumming under his touch, his weight, his voice. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“You’re going to remember this,” he growled, one hand tangling in your hair, the other gripping your waist tight. “Every time you try to flirt with someone else.”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back, but all that came out was a strangled moan as his hips snapped forward again, perfectly timed, perfectly cruel.

He smiled into your neck. “That’s what I thought.”

His grin spread slow and dangerous, that same wicked fire gleaming in his eyes—the one he’d had the second he saw you across the room. The one that said he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had.

He adjusted his grip on your hips, grounding you harder beneath him as he picked up the rhythm again, his breath ragged now too. Your head fell back against the pillows, the only thing anchoring you to the moment was the sound of his skin against yours, your breathing tangled, bodies moving like they’d done this a thousand times in their heads.

Everything outside that room ceased to exist.

“For you,” he says, voice rough and low, thrusting even deeper. “To break.”

Your nails raked down his chest, dragging over every slick line of muscle. His shirt had vanished somewhere in the chaos, and now your hands were greedy — exploring the sweat-slick heat of his body, the flex of his abs each time he drove into you with bruising force.

He was all tension and power above you, and still, you couldn’t stop touching him — couldn’t get enough of the way his skin burned under your fingertips, or the way his breath stuttered when you reached lower, gripping his hips to pull him even closer.

“God, you feel so good,” you moaned, head falling back, voice unraveling. “So fucking perfect—everywhere.”

He groaned at that, the sound ripped from somewhere deep in his chest. His rhythm faltered for just a second — then returned, harder, more urgent. His hands held you tighter now, like he needed to keep you grounded or he might fall apart himself.

“You like touching me that much?” he rasped, his voice frayed, wrecked in the best way.

You nodded, unable to find words at first, just your lips parting in a gasp as you looked up at him. “Can’t help it,” you whispered, chest rising and falling fast. “You look like sin and feel like heaven.”

That earned a breathless laugh from him, barely more than a puff of air before it twisted into a moan as your body clenched around him, heat pulsing. You were close—so close it hurt.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, fingers digging into his back as your body arched toward him. “Fuck—Mingyu, I’m gonna—”

His mouth was on your neck in an instant, lips dragging hot along your skin, hips snapping into yours with relentless rhythm. “Then cum for me,” he growled, one hand sliding to your thigh, gripping it like a lifeline. “Let go. Right here. On me.”

His pace never broke, even as your body began to tremble. The sounds between you grew louder—breaths, gasps, the distant thump of music outside forgotten as you shattered beneath him. And he held you through every second of it, like he’d been waiting to watch you fall apart just for him.

You choked out his name, legs tightening around him as your body shook again, the orgasm hitting hard and fast — blinding. But he didn’t stop.

“Fuck,” he hissed, voice breaking. “I’m close—fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You barely had time to respond before he said it — low, desperate, possessive: “I’m gonna cum inside.”

Your eyes snapped open, heart thudding. His grip tightened on your waist. “I’m not leaving,” he said through clenched teeth, thrusts getting sloppy, erratic.

“Not until I’m buried so deep inside you, you’ll feel me even after I’m gone.” You moaned in response, dizzy from everything — the heat, his words, the overwhelming pleasure.

“You want that?” he asked, voice ragged. “You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes—fuck, yes.”

“Then take it like the fucking cum desperate whore you are” he growled

His head dropped to your shoulder as he groaned your name, hips jerking once, twice, and then he stilled — body trembling as he spilled into you, breath catching in his throat.

A soft, broken sound escaped him — somewhere between a moan and a gasp — as he held you tighter, like letting go would unravel him completely. Your fingers dug into his back, desperate to anchor yourself, to feel every pulse of him, every wave of heat.

Silence settled between you for a second. Heavy. Intimate. Charged.

His skin was damp against yours, chest heaving, heart racing. You could feel it — the aftershocks in his body, the quiet vulnerability in the way he stayed pressed against you, unmoving.

Neither of you spoke.

There was nothing to say — not yet. Only breath. Only heat.

His hand slid up your spine slowly, deliberately, until it cradled the back of your neck. “Fuck,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You drive me insane.”

And then, just beyond the door, someone called out:

“Time’s up!”

You both froze, breath tangled, bodies still pressed too close, the heat between you crackling like static. His forehead rested against yours, both of you panting, wrecked.

Mingyu grinned first — wild, breathless, his lips kiss-bruised and eyes still dark with want.

“Shame,” he muttered, cocking his head like he already missed your body. “I was just getting started.”

The door creaked open, and he stepped out first, running a hand through his mess of hair, his shirt buttoned in all the wrong places. He didn’t even bother pretending — just walked out like he owned the room and everything that happened in it. Like he’d just walked off a victory stage.

You followed a few seconds later, skirt tugged hastily down, fingers still trembling. Every nerve in your body felt overstimulated, your lips swollen, thighs shaky. You could feel it — the evidence of him, of what he’d done to you — with every single step.

Elle stood outside, arms crossed and smirking like she’d just won a bet.

“So,” she said, drawing the word out, eyes flicking between you and Mingyu. “Did you two… have a good chat?”

Mingyu shot her a wink, smug as ever.

“Productive.”

You glared at her, trying not to trip over your own damn legs or give away just how thoroughly ruined you were.

“Elle, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” She looped her arm through yours with way too much glee. “You’re glowing. Like, post-orgasm glowing.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Elle!”

Behind you, Mingyu chuckled — deep, amused, far too satisfied with himself.

“She’s not wrong.”

You turned sharply, cheeks burning, and gave him a look meant to kill.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He didn’t miss a beat. Took one step closer, leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. His voice was low — all silk and sin.

“I enjoyed you, baby. That’s different.”

Your breath caught.

Goddamn him.

Your body still responded to him like it hadn’t just spent the last seven minutes being kissed senseless, touched like worship, fucked like a secret. Your skin prickled under his gaze, your knees still not fully recovered.

And worse? He knew.

His smirk deepened as he straightened, eyes trailing lazily down your body like he could still feel you under his fingertips.

“See you out there.” He turned and walked away — swagger in every step.

Elle whistled low under her breath.

“You know what’s worse than watching you fall for him?” she muttered. “Watching you pretend you’re not.”

You didn’t answer.

Because you weren’t ready to admit she was right.

Not yet.

But god — the ache between your thighs and the way your heart raced at the thought of round two said it all.

You and Elle walked ahead, arm in arm, though she was doing most of the walking — you were still recovering, legs wobbly and traitorous beneath you.

From behind, you could feel Mingyu’s eyes on you. That lazy heat that made your skin tingle like you were still in that closet, still pressed against the wall, still moaning his name with his hand over your mouth. You hated how easily he lingered — in your mind, on your skin, in your pulse.

“Stop thinking about it,” Elle whispered, nudging you.

You blinked. “I’m not.”

She raised a brow. “Your pupils are dilated, your thighs are clenched, and you’ve got that ‘I’ve just been devoured alive’ look. Babe. Please.”

Before you could shoot back something clever, you reached the group — gathered around the back patio, drinks in hand, mid-laugh. And the second they spotted you and Mingyu trailing behind like you hadn’t just committed multiple sins in a dark room — the grins started forming.

“Well, well, well,” Jihoon said, holding up his drink like a toast. “If it isn’t Mr. and Mrs. Closet.”

“Took you long enough,” Seungkwan added, eyes dancing. “We thought maybe you’d moved in there permanently.”

“Should we decorate it for them?” Hana chimed in sweetly, swirling her drink. “Maybe add a little bed, a snack drawer… mood lighting?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to downplay the heat in your face.

“It was seven minutes. Not a lifetime.”

“Seven legendary minutes, apparently,” Soonyoung said, hand to his chest like he was personally affected. “Elle said you came out glowing like a Twilight vampire.”

You turned to Elle, horrified.

“You’re the devil.”

“A supportive devil,” she said brightly. “I’m just proud.”

Yoona raised her glass in your direction. “Honestly? Good for you. Closet sex? Bold. Iconic. Unstable, but iconic.”

Mingyu finally joined you, sliding into the circle like he hadn’t just wrecked you against a supply closet door. Hair still a mess. Shirt still barely together. Confidence radiating off him like second nature.

He took one look around, then grinned.

“Miss me?”

“You didn’t even fix your shirt, bro,” Chan pointed out.

“Didn’t have time,” Mingyu said with a shrug, not even trying to act humble. He looked at you.

“Some of us were busy.”

Groans and laughter erupted. Someone — probably Joshua — fake-gagged.

“God, you’re insufferable,” you muttered under your breath.

Mingyu leaned closer, voice just low enough for you to hear.

“You didn’t think that when you were begging me to go slower.”

Your eyes widened.

“Mingyu—”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t tease,” he said, smirking.

You turned sharply, grabbing the nearest cup of something — anything — to cool your face, your heart, your entire existence.

And then you heard Soonyoung yell,

“Let’s take a shot for the happy couple!”

“We’re not a couple!” you and Mingyu said at the same time.

The group just laughed harder.

“Sure,” Jihoon deadpanned. “You’re just two friends who happened to have the most sexually charged game of Seven Minutes in Heaven we’ve ever witnessed.”

“I mean,” Yoona added with a grin, “they walked out looking like a deleted scene from a very explicit K-drama.”

“I’d watch that show,” Hana nodded seriously. “Season one finale: supply closet confessionals.”

You groaned. Mingyu wrapped an arm casually around your waist — for show, you told yourself. Just for show.

But the way his thumb stroked your hip? That wasn’t just anything.

Neither was the way he leaned down again, voice soft and smug.

“Round two later?”

And the worst part?

You didn’t even hesitate before whispering back:

“Yes.”

Hey tumblr 💗!

This one’s a Seventeen one-shot featuring none other than Mingyu—because let’s be real, he’s perfect for college AU smut, and I couldn’t resist. 😏

Originally, I did plan on turning this into a series, but honestly? I just wanted to get this story out of my head and into your hands. So here it is—messy, hot, and unapologetically smutty.

Feel free to drop any thoughts, suggestions, or thirst-fueled questions in the ask box. I love hearing from you!

As always, reblogs, comments, and virtual kisses keep me going 💋 Thank you so much for reading 🥰❤️

With love,

xo, Ario

1K notes · View notes

tbaluver · 7 months ago

Text

Husband/ Father Headcanons- The Love And DeepSpace Men

order: xavier x fem! reader, zayne x fem! reader, rafayel x fem! reader, sylus x fem! reader, caleb x fem! reader genre: fluff fluff a/n: hihi lovelies! i apologize that my reqs are coming supa late but i should finish and post them so soon after my school semester ends! i literally have so many in my drafts (╥﹏╥) i usually overthink my reqs which is why i take super long but here's some husband material to feed you all for now i hope ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ talk to you all so soon mwah (∩˃o˂∩)♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He loves doing simple things with you like going to the supermarket. He’s read somewhere on the internet that that's what married couples are supposed to do on earth.

Morning routines with Xavier are always so warm and sweet. As you both get ready for the day, he’ll take your hand, carefully adjusting your wedding ring before giving it a soft kiss.

Whenever your newborn baby starts crying just as you’re both about to eat, he always prioritizes you. He’ll reassure you that you can go ahead and eat without him and enjoy your meal, promising you that he’ll take care of the baby.

You and Xavier share a special inside joke just between the two of you about the cute sounds your baby makes. Whether it’s the random babbling or their adorable squeals, always brings a smile and laugh to the both of you.

Xavier loves hearing and seeing your child laugh and will do absolutely anything to make them smile whether it’s through tickling, playing peekaboo, pulling silly faces, or using a high pitched voice

Lots of snuggles with you and your baby. You’d have your little one nestled safely right in the middle of the two of you as you all fall into deep slumber. He especially loves having his child rest on his chest while you snuggle up beside him.

Zayne:

Whenever your baby girl starts walking or crawling, he’ll consistently clean the floors of the house multiple times to keep the floor clean for his baby girl and to also have a clean house in general.

Your daughter has her own little kitchen playset because she loves watching either of you cook. Sometimes, while Zayne’s busy with his patients reports, she’ll run up to him with a plate of her plastic food to share her ‘cooking’ with him. He loves to play along to see her adorable smile, pretending to savor it and tell her how delicious it is.

Whenever it’s a quiet time between the two of you, enjoying each other’s company and doing your own thing, Zayne often reaches over to gently rub his thumb against your wedding ring, often reminiscing about the day you two got married and a small smile curling on his lips.

Anytime you ask him to grab something for you while he’s out, he always goes the extra mile and adds a little something extra for you- and for him as well especially if it’s something sweet. If you ask for the next series of your favorite book you love, he’ll just get the entire collection so you can binge-read it right away. He’ll even pick up a copy of the book you’re currently reading so he can talk about it with you.

Rafayel:

Everyday being married to you feels like a blessing from the gods. He wakes up in the morning to see your beautiful sleeping figure right beside him, wearing the wedding ring on your finger that ties you both together forever. Rafayel always greets you with something cheesy when you wake up like, “Hello my beautiful wife.” with a big smile on his face.

Rafayel flirts with you as if you haven’t been married for a couple years now and often says “I love you” with any chance he gets. “Heyy my lovely gorgeous wife, before you come home, do ya think you can pick me up some extra brushes? I think our little glub glubs hid them again...oh and by the way I love you!”

He always wears his ring. He can’t help but fidget with the ring whenever he starts to miss you, smiling as thinks about the day you both exchanged your vows.

After a long day at work, you can always find your lemurian children running up to greet you with your husband. Sometimes they like to show off their artwork they’ve all made together and most of the time it’s all just for you.

However he can always tell when you’re exhausted and drained, so he’ll gently excuse the kids, assuring them you’ll spend time with them later. For now he’s happy to entertain the children so you can get your rest. He’ll make up a random activity to keep the children busy so he can do small things for you like running a bath or preparing some meals for you

Sylus:

Anytime Sylus and his baby girl are shopping, he’ll always ask her what she wants or what she prefers. He treats her like a princess just like her mommy.

“hmm....pink! no, red!...pink!”

“how about....we get both dear?”

and there’s something so adorable seeing her so happy that makes him feel so warm and fuzzy inside.

Sylus does not mind in any timeline or universe if you’re comfortable being provided for. He can afford it and nothing can hurt his card even if you tried.

As years go by, he’ll make sure your wedding ring isn’t getting worn out or has any chips in it. Not that it would ever get worn off from its high quality. If it does have any problems, he’s quick to get it fixed, making sure that your ring will always shine with you.

Before you both unwind for the night, he’ll gently kiss the back of your hand where your wedding ring rests, before slowly slipping it off for the night.

Anytime you’re home from a long day of work, he’s already outside waiting for you to take out things in your car so you don’t have to carry anything.

After a long shift, you can always come home to find a warm dinner waiting for you with your favorite drink. The house would be clean and your baby girl is already tucked in. He’ll sit by you at the dining table, a glass in his hand, sharing stories about his day or simply listening as you tell him about yours.

Caleb:

Caleb absolutely treasures being a father. He became the father that he wished he had, present and involved in every moment. Whether it’s cheering from the sidelines at their games or helping with their homework ( without yelling and making them cry at the kitchen table ), or just listening when they need to talk, he’s always there for his kids. He’s just as devoted to you, always making sure you feel as supported and loved.

Caleb is the type of husband that would wake up early or stay up late to make sure your lunch is ready for work the next day. He knows exactly how you like your meals, carefully preparing each dish and packing it with everything you need. He does the same for his kids, packing their lunch boxes the night before with their favorite snacks and an apple.

Playtime is a must with his kids. He believes in letting his kids experience the joy of childhood to its fullest. The living room is always filled with the sound of his laughter as he lifts them high into the air, making airplane noises or chasing them around the house from their made-up games. He would also make sure to keep track of their growth, marking their heights on the wall.

Once all the kids are tucked in bed and actually asleep, he’ll swoop you in with a kiss. His kisses were always so hungry and sweet and he seriously cannot get enough of you, always wanting more.

“We have food at home” type of father but your kids never mind because he always cooks them whatever they’re craving. His home cooked meals always HIT. The house would be filled with delicious smells that make everyone feel right at home. His love is always served in each and every dish that makes his cooking way more special than going out to eat.

Your home is filled with many memories of your marriage but Caleb has a special place for his favorites. He keeps them up in your shared bedroom so when he wakes up beside you with the cool metal ring around his finger is a reminder that brings him back into reality that he’s married to the love of his life and there is always an escape from his nightmares.

2K notes · View notes

gf2bellamy · 3 months ago

Note

Hey, you know when spencer is doing his physics magic thing and it lands on emily head then she asks him how this works but he refuses to tell her claiming a true magician never reveals his secrets but when the reader asks him he agrees to show her immediately cuz he's so whipped and everyone's is like 🤨🤨🤨

Also happy birthday i hope you have a great year full of happiness 🫶🏻✨️❤️

magic — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: a/n: hiii !! spencer looked so cute in this scene i love early szns spence <3 also tysm that's so sweet !!! <333 also i couldnt find the a gif for this scene so this gif will have to do

You, JJ, and Garcia had gathered behind Spencer, who was seated in one of the rolling chairs, his frame hunched over a small film cannister on the desk.

He had promised to show you all a "physics magic trick," though so far, nothing magical—or even remotely interesting—had happened.

JJ glanced at you, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Nothing is happening," she whispered.

You shrugged, leaning slightly over Spencer's shoulder to get a better look at whatever he was tinkering with.

Spencer, however, seemed to be struggling. His hands fidgeted with the small plastic device on the desk, but his focus was clearly divided.

The warmth of you standing so close behind him was distracting, and he could feel the faint brush of your breath against his neck.

He cleared his throat. "Shhh, watch," he said, his voice cracking slightly and rising an octave higher than usual.

You raised an eyebrow, exchanging a quick, amused glance with JJ.

Spencer’s enthusiasm was endearing, even if the trick itself seemed to be taking its sweet time.

You leaned in a little closer, your chin nearly resting on his shoulder, and you could’ve sworn you saw the tips of his ears turn pink.

And then it happened.

The small plastic device—a tiny black spring-loaded film cannister—suddenly sprang to life. With a sharp ping, it launched into the air, flying in a high arc across the bullpen. You watched, wide-eyed, as it sailed over the desks and directly toward the doorway.

Emily chose that exact moment to walk in.

The plastic projectile hit her squarely on the forehead with a soft thunk.

She froze mid-step, her hand instinctively flying to the spot where it had struck. "Ow! What—?" she exclaimed.

Spencer looked mortified. His hands flailing as he stammered out an apology. "I’m so sorry, Emily!

You couldn’t help it—a burst of laughter escaped you, quickly followed by JJ and Garcia joining in.

Emily rubbed her forehead, glaring at him. "What was that?" she asked.

Your laughter only grew louder at Spencer’s flustered expression, and the sound of it made his heart hammer in his chest. He couldn’t help but glance at you, his cheeks flushing even deeper.

"Don’t you recognize a rocket when you see one?" Garcia chimed in, her grin widening as she nudged Spencer playfully.

Spencer's voice rose slightly in defense. "I was merely demonstrating a fundamental physics law! I didn’t mean to—"

Emily waved him off, her curiosity now piqued. "Oh, show me," she said, walking over to the table where you were all gathered. She leaned in, her eyes scanning the small film cannister Spencer had been tinkering with. "How does it work?"

Spencer hesitated, then shook his head. "A magician never reveals his secrets," he said, his tone mock-serious as he gestured for her to turn around. Emily rolled her eyes but complied, stepping back as Spencer reset the device.

Spencer managed to show the trick again, but not without getting into trouble with Hotch. The girls immediately went back to their desks. Staying there even after Hotch went back to his office.

But you stayed at Spencer's desk.

You leaned against it, your arms casually crossed as you watched him fiddle with the small film cannister. “Spencer,” you said softly, causing him to tilt his head up to look at you.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice low and slightly hesitant, the way it always was when he talked to you. It was endearing, the way he got so shy, as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“How did you do that trick?” you asked, giving him your sweetest smile. You knew he’d mentioned something about magicians never revealing their secrets, but you couldn’t resist teasing him a little.

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flickering to yours before dropping back to the device in his hands.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, clearly torn between his love of sharing knowledge and his earlier declaration about magicians and their secrets.

But then he looked up at you again, and whatever resolve he had crumbled under the warmth of your smile.

“Well…” he began, his voice softening as he gave in. He gestured for you to lean in closer, and you did.

His words came quickly at first, a rapid-fire explanation of potential energy, kinetic energy, and the calculations needed to make the trick work. As he spoke, his tone grew more animated, his hands moving to illustrate his points.

You listened intently, nodding along, though half your attention was on the way his eyes sparkled with excitement.

When he finished explaining, he glanced at you, almost shyly. “Want to try it?” he asked.

You grinned. “Absolutely.”

Spencer handed you the small plastic device, his fingers brushing against yours in the process.

The contact was brief, but it sent a little jolt through you, and you could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks flush.

He guided you through the steps, his voice soft, his hands hovering near yours ready to help if needed.

Your fingers brushed against his again as you adjusted the device, and you could feel the faint tremor in his hand.

It was subtle, but it was there, and it made your heart skip a beat.

Just as you were about to launch the film cannister, Emily’s voice cut through the moment. “Hey, are you showing her how to do that physics trick?” she asked, her tone accusatory.

She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Spencer. “You said no one was allowed to know.”

JJ, who had been quietly observing from her desk, looked up at Emily’s words, her own eyebrow quirking in curiosity.

You glanced at Spencer, who looked like a deer caught in headlights, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to come up with a response.

But before he could say anything, you grinned and leaned back against the desk, your tone teasing. “Guess I’m special.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like he might combust on the spot.

Emily shook her head. “Special, huh? Reid, you’re full of surprises.”

JJ smirked, adding, “Looks like someone’s got a soft spot.”

Spencer stammered, his face turning a deep shade of red. “I—it’s not—I mean, she just—uh—”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Spencer’s flustered expression only made it harder to stop. “Relax, Spence,” you said, gently nudging his arm. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room had faded away. “Thanks,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Emily and JJ exchanged a knowing look before returning to their work, leaving the two of you alone once more. You stayed there, leaning against his desk, as you asked him more questions about his magic tricks.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic

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vunblr · 4 months ago

Text

Plump & Ripe

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected Sex. Some fluff. Slight Angst. A Pinch of Body Insecurity. Size kink. Use of pet names.

Summary: On a routine visit to the fruit shop, Bucky ends up with more than his usual goodies.

Word Count: 7.4k.

note: This is one of the works I'm submitting for the @avengers-assemble-bingo event for Bucky's 108th birthday, running throughout March. The prompt was "Plums". It was supposed to be a cute and fluffy fic, but it turned into pure filth instead. I'm sorry -not-

She looked up from the counter, and a welcoming smile instantly spread across her lips when she saw who had made the doorbell chime.

“You’re late. You’re lucky I set this bag aside when the distributor came this morning because they’re all sold out now.” She lifted a small paper bag from the shelf behind her, placing it on the counter between them. The deep violet of the plums peeked through the crinkled opening, and their smooth skins caught the golden light that filtered through the shop’s front windows.

Bucky stood just inside the doorway, a little tense as his fingers fidgeted with the zipper of his jacket. “Sorry. Something came up and... couldn’t make it earlier.” He mumbled.

That ‘something’ had been him forcing himself out of bed after three days of avoiding the world. Everything felt heavier these days, his body, his thoughts, even some goddamn things that weren’t so before. But he was here now, and that was better than nothing.

She leaned her elbows on the counter. “No worries. I know you’d never miss plum day on purpose.” She tried to tease warmly.

Right. One of the rare occasions he’d missed plum day was when he went on that stupid mission, the so-called ‘walk in the park’ that turned into a bloodbath of agents and ended with him being taken again by the same people who’d tormented him for nearly 80 years. Only this time, they didn’t just want their precious pet back, they wanted it better.

In five days of captivity, they not only just strapped him to a modernized version of that damned chair. Oh no, they’d injected him with a cocktail of drugs that messed up his body in ways he was still discovering, even a year later. Like his fucked-up metabolism.

His eyes flicked to the bag, and his mouth twitched just slightly. “You know me too well on that aspect,” he muttered, reaching out to grab the bag.

She watched him carefully. “Do you need anything else?”

He hesitated, shifting his gaze to the baskets of apples lined up near the wall. “Yeah… green apples.”

She nodded, moving around the counter to grab a paper bag. As she started picking the crisp, bright green apples, she spoke over her shoulder. “I got a new kind in this week. They’re a mix of green and red, still sour but with a sweet twist. Figured you might like them, so I’m throwing one in for you to try.” She dropped a smaller, two-toned apple into the bag, the colors blending in a swirl of muted red and pale green. “No charge.”

His lips quirked, just for a moment, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen from him in weeks. “Thanks.” He said gruffly.

She twisted the top of the bag, folding it neatly before placing it on the counter beside the plums. But she didn’t step back, and her fingers lingered on the edge as if debating something. Her teeth caught her bottom lip, worrying the skin.

Always perceptive, Bucky narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

Her head jerked up, eyes widening. “Huh?”

“You look like you’re trying to decide whether to say something or not.” He crossed his arms, leaning his weight on one leg. “Tell me.”

She huffed a laugh, embarrassed. “It’s... not very appropriate.”

One eyebrow shot up. “I’ve heard worse.”

She bit her lip again before glancing toward the back room. “I was just wondering if you could help me with a couple of crates. The distributor was in a hurry, and he just tossed the merchandise back there. It’s kind of a mess... hard to move around.” She gave a half-shrug, sheepish. I’d do it myself, but they’re actually pretty heavy.”

He followed her gaze, and his expression softened. “That all?”

“Well... yeah,” she admitted, heat creeping up her neck. “You already helped with the shelves last week... and the cooler the week before. I just... I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage or something.”

His features softened even more, as he huffed, twitching his lips in a half-smile. “I wouldn’t help if I didn’t want to. Show the way.”

She gestured to the door behind the counter -the only door, really- and he shot her a look. She shrugged, grinning. “I know, I know. Real hard to find.”

He followed her through the doorway, ducking his head slightly as they entered the cramped back room. His steps faltered as his eyes took in the scene. Stacks of boxes and wooden crates were scattered haphazardly across the floor, some leaning precariously against each other. It was like the distributor had been in a damn race to get out of there.

His mouth pulled into a deep scowl. How the hell did that asshole expect her to move this on her own? Where were the manners nowadays? He grumbled under his breath, weaving between the clutter as he started rearranging the crates into a more orderly stack. He made sure to place the heavier boxes at the bottom, the lighter ones on top, within easy reach for her.

She leaned against the doorframe, watching as the chaos turned into something more manageable. “God, I’ll kidnap you and put you on my bedside table.”

His head snapped up, brows drawing together. “Uh?”

She blinked, a faint heat creeping up her neck. “Oh, it’s just... a saying we have. You know, to cherish something.” She waved a hand, brushing off her embarrassment. “Forget it. Thank you, really for always helping.”

He chuckled. “Pretty sure your poor bedside table can’t handle me anyway.” His tone was dry, self-deprecating, like he was almost daring her to argue.

But her brain had short-circuited somewhere around ‘bedside,’ and before she could think better of it, the words just tumbled out: “But my bed sure can.”

He froze, fingers clenching around the edge of a crate. For a second, he didn’t even breathe. “What?”

She cursed inwardly. Did she… did she actually say that aloud? Oh my god. She could feel her soul leaving her body, and her eyes darted down as her brain scrambled for something -anything- that could sound similar. She fumbled, words tripping over themselves. “I- I said... I wondered if... if you can open a can.”

Bucky blinked, his expression shifting from shock to confusion. “A can?”

She nodded furiously, feeling her face burn. “Yeah. A big one. I have... with peaches. And I don’t have an opener, so I thought maybe...” Her eyes flicked to his metal hand, then back to his face.

They stared at each other, the silence was thick and heavy. “You want me to open... a can of peaches.”

Her chin lifted defiantly, even as her face burned. “Yes. A big one.”

He looked at her, then tilted his head, and his lips twitched slightly. “That so?”

“Yup. I figured you’re more than capable and I... really wanted to try them.” Her voice was firmer now, though her face was still in flames.

Bucky watched her for another moment, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to figure her out. Finally, he huffed, low and almost amused. “Alright then. Bring it over.”

She nodded quickly, grateful for the excuse to turn away from his piercing gaze. Her heart was still hammering against her ribs, and her hands trembled as she rummaged through a cluttered shelf. Eventually, she found the can half-buried behind a jar of jam, with its bright label slightly faded. Two forks were grabbed from a drawer without much thought, and her fingers clenched around them as she tried to calm herself. When she turned back, Bucky was stacking the last of the boxes, his back to her.

Her eyes lingered on his body for a beat too long, and her mind flashed back to her stupid, impulsive words. But my bed sure can. She almost groaned out loud, the embarrassment creeping over her anew. She was never going to live this down.

Clearing her throat, she approached him, holding out the can. “Here. I... uh... figured we could share. Since you’re helping me out and all.”

He turned, and his gaze dropped to the can before lifting to meet hers. His expression was neutral, but his eyes held a glint of something she couldn’t quite place. “Peaches, huh?”

She swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. They should be good. Sweet. Soft, too... uh, juicy” The words tumbled out before she could stop them, and her face burned all over again. God, why did she have to say it like that?

Bucky just stared at her for a second, flicking his eyes to her lips before his mouth twitched. “Alright.” His voice was a little rougher, a little lower. He took the can from her, popping a metal finger through the lid and curling it, crumpling the metal until it popped off.

He handed it back, licking his finger for a brief moment and she could swear she could have a stroke. “There you go. Good thing at least I’m good as a can opener.”

She furrowed her brow, and the playful glint in her eyes faded. “Don’t do that.”

His shoulders went rigid. What did he do to upset her? “Do what?”

“That,” she said, “Sell yourself short. That... self-deprecation thing you always pull.”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes drifted away from hers. “Just saying the truth.” Almost unconsciously, his gaze dropped to his midsection, to the slight curve that hadn’t been there before. To the proof that his body was failing him, that even with all the enhancements, he was broken.

“Bucky,” she said, with a softer tone but no less resolute. “You’re a damn Avenger. Half the days you come in here, you’re bruised and battered because you fight for people who can’t fight for themselves. You protect them. That’s incredible.” Her hand gestured to the neatly stacked crates behind him. “You’re kind... and good. Don’t diminish yourself.”

His eyes snapped back to hers, a flicker of surprise breaking through his usual calm but hard expression. He wanted to deflect, to brush it off with a sarcastic remark. It was easier to joke than to acknowledge the weight of her words. But the way she looked at him, made the words stick in his throat. His fingers tightened around the can, and the metal creaked under his grip. “Yeah, well... sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.”

She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. “Our own perceptions sometimes lie. Doesn’t make it less true.”

He stared at her, and his defenses faltered. The familiar cynicism was there, clawing at him, but her words were louder. His mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always this stubborn?”

She crossed her arms, lifting her chin defiantly. “Only when someone I care about is being stupid.”

The air grew still. She seemed to realize what she’d said a second too late, eyes widening before she looked away. “I mean... you know... as a customer. And a... friend.”

He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly as if he was trying to get a better read on her. “A friend to put on your nightstand.”

Her eyes snapped to his, caught off guard by the teasing lilt in his voice. “Sure.”

He leaned against the stacked crates, crossing his arms over his chest. His jaw worked, like he was chewing over his next words. For a heartbeat, he thought about letting it slide, about keeping his mouth shut and pretending he hadn’t heard. But the thought of not knowing twisted his gut in a way that made him reckless. “Did you mean it?”

Her heart skipped, the peach suddenly feeling too heavy on her tongue. She forced herself to chew slowly, buying time. “What?”

“The... bed.” His gaze pierced in that way that made her feel stripped bare. “Did you mean it?”

Oh. So he had heard her.

Her mind raced, instincts screaming at her to laugh it off, to deflect with a joke or change the subject. But he just stood there, watching her, waiting. It was infuriating how still he could be, how his silence demanded more than words ever could. His eyes didn’t waver, his face was impassive, but there was something tight in his stance, something almost vulnerable in the way his fingers tapped once against his arm before he caught himself, stilling the movement.

She paused mid-chew, the peach now a lump in her throat. The hell with all. “What if I did?”

His expression didn’t change, but his posture did: his shoulders straightened, and his arms uncrossed just slightly. He took a step closer, and the room suddenly felt a lot smaller. “Then I’d say... you’d better be sure.”

She swallowed, heat blooming up her neck. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile as he closed the space between them. “I figured.”

His hand came up slowly, hesitantly, like he was giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t move as his fingers brushed her cheek, rough callouses skimming her skin. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and she couldn’t help but lean into it, never breaking the eye contact.

His thumb traced her cheekbone, and his gaze softened as his fingers curled on the back of her neck. Her pulse quickened, and she could feel her heartbeats echoing in her ears, but she didn’t dare look away. Not when his eyes were so impossibly blue, locked on hers with a focus that stole her breath.

She parted her lips, in a silent invitation, while her hand found its way to his chest, curling her fingers into the fabric of his jacket.

For a moment, he just looked at her, his face so close she could feel his breath on her lips. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and his eyes darkened, “Tell me to stop if this is not what you want.” he murmured, but his hand didn’t move.

She shook her head, tightening her fingers on his jacket. “Not a chance.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his lips crashed into hers, firm and demanding, as he fisted her hair and pulled her closer.

She responded instinctively, pressing her body into his as her hands slid up his chest, wrapping around his neck. He groaned against her mouth, circling his vibranium arm on her waist.

The world around her faded, the cluttered storeroom, the lingering scent of the peaches, everything disappeared until there was only him. His warmth, his strength, his mouth moving against hers with a hunger that made her knees weak.

She sighed, threading her fingers through his hair, and he responded by deepening the kiss. When they finally broke apart, both breathless, she ran a hand along his slightly rounded cheek, tracing its curve with her thumb with a tenderness that made something clench on his chest.

“You are so damn handsome.”

His gaze widened slightly, surprise flickering across his features before something else settled in. Cocky 40s Sergeant Barnes wouldn’t have agreed. In fact, he wouldn’t have dreamed of seeing himself like this, heavier, slower, tired.

He swallowed, as the weight of her words pressed against years of ingrained self-doubt. She exhaled, shaking her head with a small, knowing smile. “I can see the gears turning inside your head, you know?” Her fingers lingered against his skin, warm and sure. “And, in a courageous and embarrassing -but it seems necessary-confession, I must say that I like this version of you. A lot.”

His body tensed beneath her touch. Of all the things he expected, this wasn’t one of them. People -some- admired him for what he could do. No one ever said they liked him like this.

He searched her face, looking for doubt, for anything that suggested she was just saying it to make him feel better. His throat felt tight. “You don’t have to say that.”

Her brows furrowed, and her fingers pressed just slightly into his skin. “I told you earlier that I mean what I say. You’re a soft wall of muscle.” She bit her lip, as her eyes drifted over his shoulders, his chest, lingering just long enough to make his pulse quicken. “And I like big men, so...”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, utterly at a loss. That... wasn’t what he expected. Not at all.

She felt the heat on her face but didn’t look away, just kept caressing his cheek. “In my eyes, you’re better than when I first knew you.”

His heart skipped, the words settling heavy and warm somewhere behind his ribs. “Better?” His voice was low, rough, like he was forcing the word out. “How?”

Her thumb traced his cheekbone, and she felt all the heat in her body rush to her face again. She looked away, sensing her bravado faltering. “God, you’re going to make me say it. This is so embarrassing.” She took a breath, meeting his gaze again. “Sexier, Bucky. You look better to me because I find your bigger body more than appealing. Manlier. Is that enough clarification for y-”

She didn’t get to finish. His mouth crashed again against hers, more heated and demanding than before, as his fingers tightened at her waist, pulling her flush against his body.

A low growl vibrated in his chest, his lips moving hungrily over hers, and she barely had time to gasp before his tongue slid past her lips, tasting, claiming. Her back hit the wall as his body crowded hers, and she didn’t care, didn’t want space, didn’t want air, didn’t want anything that wasn’t him.

His heart pounded in his chest, blood roaring in his ears. Her words echoed in his mind, looping over and over again. Sexier. Manlier. More than appealing.

A rush of masculine pride coursed his body, fierce and hot, like lightning in his veins. She wanted him like this, wanted him bigger, broader. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear that, how deeply her praise soothed the bruised ego he hadn’t even admitted having.

She felt his growing erection pressing against her hip, and she gripped his shoulders, feeling him beneath. There was nothing soft about him, not in the way he kissed her, fierce and unrelenting, not in the way his body surrounded hers, hard and unyielding.

He tore his mouth from hers, with ragged breathing, eyes dark and wild as they bore into hers. “You like this?” His voice was rough, deeper than before, and his words dripped with hunger. “You like me like this?”

She swallowed, her pulse fluttering wildly. “Yes. God, yes.”

His lips curved into a grin, that old cocky sergeant slipping through the cracks of his armor. “Good,” he growled, as his mouth descended on hers again, sliding down his hand to grip her thigh with bruising force as he hitched her leg up around his waist, pressing himself against her. His mouth was at her ear, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that sent shivers down her spine. “Because I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t think about fucking you raw under this slutty green apron every damn time you hand me my plums.”

Her brain stuttered, eyes widening as she processed his words.

His hips rolled, grinding his hardon against her tummy, and she felt every inch of his cock, hard and wanting, and god, she couldn’t help it, she whined. A desperate, needy sound that escaped her throat before she could bite it back.

His eyes darkened, his pupils blown wide as his lips curled again into that smirk. “Always with a little extra product, always checking on me.” His teeth scraped her jaw, flicking out his tongue to taste her skin. “Thought you were just sweet, just nice. Turns out you were trying to fatten me up for yourself, huh?” His words were teasing, but his tone was rough and possessive.

He rocked his hips again, a slow, deliberate grind that had her gasping, her fingers digging into his shoulders as heat coiled tighter and tighter in her belly.

“Bucky-” Her voice was a breathless plea, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to find words, tried to get a grip on herself, but his mouth was on her neck, sucking a hot, wet mark just above her collarbone, and she was gone, utterly, completely gone.

“You like that, huh?” His teeth grazed her skin again, his metal fingers tightening on her thigh, holding her in place as he ground against her. “Like knowing you drive me crazy? That every time I leave, all I can think about is coming back here, bending you over that counter, and fuck you right there, maybe squishing a fucking orange just to watch the juice dripping down your ass?”

Another whine slipped out, her body arching into his as her hips rolled instinctively to meet his. His words wrapped around her, filthy and raw, and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel.

His lips trailed up to her ear, his breath hot and ragged. “So tell me, sweetheart... how long have you been thinking about me ruining you right here in your little shop?”

“If... if we’re about to speak on hard numbers...” She tried to tease, but the words came out ragged, crumbling under the hard suck he planted just behind her ear. Her body shuddered, another whimper escaping before she could stop it. “I’d say... the first time you came here. You’d just moved in and didn’t... didn’t even have pans to cook. Remember?”

His mouth paused on her skin, lips curved against her neck. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Came looking for fruit and you ended up selling me that tray of already cut vegetables to make soup. Lent me that steel jar to boil ’em in.” His tongue flicked over the mark he’d made, soothing the sting before he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “I thought you were too damn trusting. What if I didn’t come back?”

She let out a breathless laugh, curling her fingers on his biceps. “I saw your hand. You forgot the gloves that day... and I figured... the Winter Soldier wouldn’t steal a steel jar.” Her lips twitched, and a spark of mischief lit her eyes. “If you did, well, the loss was on me. But if you didn’t...” She trailed off.

His eyes darkened, and his grip tightened on her thigh as he pressed her harder against the wall. “If I didn’t?”

She swallowed, feeling her heart hammering against her ribs. “Then... I would have set some points with a handsome man.”

“Sneaky,” he muttered, brushing her lips, a teasing, fleeting touch. “You were setting a trap for me from the start.”

Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging just enough to earn her another low, hungry sound from him. “Can you blame me?” she whispered, her lips barely an inch from his. “You were brooding and grumpy... and so damn gorgeous.”

His eyes flashed with something wild and primal sparking in them. “And now?” His voice was low and dangerous, his metal fingers flexing on her thigh, holding her in place. “Now that you’ve got me? This bigger, grumpier version?”

She didn’t hesitate, running her hands over his broad shoulders. “Now?” She leaned in, grazing his bottom lip with her teeth before she pulled back. “I’d say It was a pretty good investment.”

His lips were into hers again, swallowing her gasp as his body pressed into hers, heavy and hard and perfect. He kissed her hard, his mouth rough and hungry while rocking his hips against hers, and she moaned, digging her nails into his scalp as she arched into him. He tore his mouth away, with ragged breathing, his eyes pinning her in place as they locked with hers. “Last chance, sugarplum” His voice felt vulnerable beneath the heat. “You want this?”

She held his gaze and pressed herself against him, rubbing her breasts against his chest enticingly. "I want you to ruin me, papa bear"

He froze. Every muscle in his body went taut. His eyes widened, and his pupils blew wide as her words penetrated his fogged brain. “...What did you just call me?”

Her heart plummeted. Oh god. Why? Why did she have to let that slip out now, of all times? She could feel her face heating up, a wave of mortification crashing over her. “Um... uh...” She looked away, curling her fingers nervously into his shoulders. “Too soon?”

For a heartbeat, he was silent, his jaw tight and his chest heaving as he processed it. But then a low, guttural sound escaped him, somewhere between a groan and a growl. His head dropped to her shoulder, pressing his forehead into her as his body shuddered against hers. “Fuck,”

She let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding so hard she swore he could feel it. “S-sorry. I don’t... I don’t even know where that came from, I-”

He lifted his head, eyes dark, pupils blown. “Don’t.” His voice was rough, firm. “Don’t take it back.”

Her mouth went dry, and her body arched instinctively into him as his grip on her tightened. “You- uh... liked it?”

His lips curled into a feral grin, grazing her earlobe with his teeth before he growled, “You have no idea.” His nose brushed her cheek, his lips a breath away from hers. “Say it again.”

Her heart skipped a beat, face flaming. “I-” She hesitated, but the way his body trembled, the raw need in his eyes, the way he was holding her like he was afraid she’d vanish... it shattered any scruple she had. She leaned in, brushing his lips with hers as she whispered, “Ruin me, Papa Bear.”

He swore under his breath, crashing his mouth into hers again with bruising force. His hands gripped her tighter, possessive, desperate, and she moaned, opening up to him, letting him in. His tongue swept over hers, hungry and demanding, and she melted, her body molding to his as he consumed her.

He broke away just long enough to start tugging at her apron. “Take it off, or I’ll-”

The faint chime of the bell at the front door echoed through the storage room, hitting them like a bucket of cold water. Her eyes widened, and he stilled, with his fingers curled around the knot of her apron. The door to the storage room was wide open, and the front door? Neither of them had bothered to close it since none of this was supposed to happen.

His jaw clenched, and he lifted a finger, pointing at her with a look that could melt steel. “Don’t move.”

She barely had time to blink before he was striding out of the storage room, with his hair slightly mussed and crumpled clothing. He rounded the corner to find an elderly woman standing uncertainly by the counter, clutching her purse tightly in her hands.

His expression softened -just a bit- as he forced a strained smile. “It’s closed.”

The woman’s brows knitted together. “Oh, but I just wanted to-”

“Lemme accompany you out, yes?” He cut in, his voice dripping with forced politeness. “An emergency came up, and she’s... not here. I just stopped by to lock up.” His words were rushed, his body practically blocking the doorway.

“Oh, I see...” The woman glanced around, clearly confused but too polite to question him. “I’ll come back tomorrow then.”

“Good idea,” he agreed, already guiding her toward the door, hovering his hand protectively behind her back as she shuffled out. The door shut with more force than necessary, as the chime echoed sharply in the now-empty store. He twisted the lock, and stood there for a moment, with a rigid back, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath.

In a flash, he was back in the storage room, locking his eyes on her with a hunger that made her knees weak. He didn’t say a word as he closed the distance between them, and his fingers went immediately to the buttons of her blouse, his mouth trailing kisses over every newly exposed inch of skin.

He almost groaned when he saw her bra clasp at the front. “You’re a fucking menace,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, before popping the clasp with an impatient flick of his fingers. The fabric fell away, and his mouth and hands were on her before he could think: Palms warm against her bare skin, squeezing just hard enough to make her arch into him, a breathy moan escaping her lips. He latched his mouth to the delicate skin just above her collarbone, swirling his tongue, teeth scraping, tasting the salt of her skin.

She was driving him insane. Every little sound, every shiver, every way her fingers gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer.

Her hands were just as eager, fumbling with the zipper of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. She hesitated for a heartbeat when her fingers grazed his belly, flicking her eyes up to his. But there was no discomfort there, only hunger. Her pupils were blown, her lips parted, her breathing ragged. Her fingers splayed over his stomach, and the warmth of her touch sank into his skin even through the fabric of his shirt.

He kissed her harder, deeper, pressing her back against the wall as his body settled heavily against hers, his bigger form pinning her in place. She gasped, hitching her leg around his waist again, pulling him closer, grinding, her hips against his, and he nearly lost it.

His lips trailed lower, over the swell of her breast, and his stubble grazed her sensitive skin as his tongue flicked over an already pert nipple. She cried out, her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him there as her body arched beneath him, desperate, needing more. He was only too happy to oblige, closing his mouth around her, suckling greedily as his hand moved to the other, kneading, teasing.

“Bucky... please...” Her voice was a broken whisper, as her nails dug into his shoulders and scalp, and her body writhed against his.

He dragged his mouth back up to hers, capturing her lips in another bruising kiss, slipping his hand beneath her skirt, teasing the edge of her panties. “Want papa bear to touch you, sugarplum?” he growled, rough and low, “Want me to prep you open nice and deep and then ruin this little pussy?”

His words made her shiver, and her whole body tensed at the need in his voice. She could barely breathe, could barely think, as her mind spun while his fingers danced along the delicate lace of her panties, teasing, taunting.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her hips rolling instinctively toward his touch. “Yes, please.”

A low, satisfied growl rumbled from his chest, “That’s my good girl.” His fingers hooked under the fabric, dragging her panties down slowly, deliberately, grazing his knuckles on the sensitive skin of her thighs. He wanted to savor this, to watch her come apart for him.

He lifted her easily, her back hitting the wall as her legs wrapped around his waist. The feeling of her pussy against his stomach made him swear under his breath, his head dropping to her shoulder again as he struggled to hold on to the last shreds of his self-control.

His metal fingers pressed her hips into the wall, to accompany his body, pinning her in place as his flesh hand slipped between her thighs. She was already soaked, and he groaned, feeling his cock throbbing painfully against his jeans. “So fucking wet for me... all that from just a little talk?”

Her head tipped back, hitting the wall, lips parting in a breathless gasp as his fingers found her clit, circling lazily, teasing only to dip them lower, slipping them inside her, stretching her, pressing his thumb down on her clit.

He watched her face as he started to move his hand, pumping slowly, deliberately, curling just enough to make her shudder. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth falling open in a silent cry as her hips rocked against his hand, chasing every thrust, every stroke.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “Such a greedy pussy, taking everything I give you.” His teeth grazed her earlobe. “You’re mine now.”

Her body clenched around his fingers, a whimper escaping her lips, and her nails dug into his shoulders as she held on, tightening her muscles as he pushed her closer to the edge.

“Gonna come for me, sugarplum?” His fingers started to move faster, harder, while his thumb circled her clit mercilessly. “Gonna fall apart on my fingers before I even get to ruin you properly?”

Her whole body tensed and her head snapped forward, pressing her forehead into his as she shattered with a force that stole her breath.

“That’s it... that’s my girl,” he whispered, slowing his fingers, easing her down from the high, brushing his lips against hers in a surprisingly tender kiss.

He adjusted his grip on her body, grinding his clothed erection against her, letting her feel how hard he was, how ready. “And now, I gonna give you what you wanted,” he growled.

He slid his fingers out of her and fumbled with the zipper of his pants "look at the mess you did here, all this cream on my zipper." she just moaned and grind herself against the back of his hand, thrilled by being pinned to the wall by his weight alone and his vibranium hand on her asscheek.

“Bucky... please...” Her voice was breathy, broken, and her body trembled as his metal hand squeezed her ass, holding her exactly where he wanted her.

He hummed, while his fingers continued to play with the wetness she’d left on his pants, dragging her up his length, letting her feel every ridge, every pulse under his denim. “You’re so needy for me, sugarplum,” he murmured, his voice low, rough. “So wet, so… ready.”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, her mind was blank with need as he finally spread his thick thighs squatting a little, and sat her on them, tugging down his zipper, and freeing his heavy, leaking cock. He wrapped his hand around himself, and his eyes never left hers as he stroked once, spreading her slickness all over his length. “You see this?�� he growled. “This is what you do to me.”

She bit her lip, her eyes locked down, watching him slowly pump himself, zeroed on the pornographic sight of his cock glistening with a mix of their arousal.

Seeing his heated gaze he leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “You made this mess... now you’re gonna take responsibility for it”. It was all the warning he did before hooking the back of her knees on his forearms, and pressing his hands on the wall, surging forward, burying the fat head of his cock in her entrance, pushing himself inside her in one slow, stretching thrust.

Her mouth fell open, and a choked moan escaped her lips as he filled her, inch by agonizing inch. Her back arched against the wall, fingers scrambling for purchase on his arms, nails digging in as her body stretched to accommodate him.

He was relentless, his eyes locked on her face, watching every flicker of pleasure, every gasp, every shudder as he sank into her, slow and merciless. “You feel that?” His voice was a rough whisper, his breath hot against her ear.

She could only nod, as he pressed his hips in even deeper, against hers, burying his cock to the hilt. “Bucky... oh God...” Her legs trembled, thighs spread wide over his forearms, helpless to do anything but take everything he gave her.

He groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder, grazing her skin with his teeth as he fought to keep himself in check, to keep from losing himself in the incredible heat of her body. “Fuck... you feel so damn good... driving me crazy, sugarplum.” His words were rough, and breathless, his control slipping with every second he stayed buried inside her.

Her walls quivered around him, tightening instinctively, pulling him in, holding him close. “Bucky... move... please...” she pleaded, trying to roll her hips to create some friction, to ease the maddening stretch.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His fingers almost dug into the bricks, and he began to move in slow, heavy thrusts that made her whole body rock against the wall. Each time he withdrew, she felt the loss, felt the emptiness, and each time he filled her again, her world shattered a little more as she felt his cock stretching her, filling her, owning her. “Oh God...”

He could feel himself losing control, as his thrusts grew harder and faster, pinning her like a ragdoll against the wall, relishing the needy moans and whimpers escaping her lips.

A hand flew to his head tugging his locks as he wrecked her. “Fuck Papa Bear… you feel so good, so heavy, so… fucking… big, you turn me on so much.”

Her praise wrapped around him, squeezing him just as tight as her body did, and his head spun with primal satisfaction. He groaned, as his cock throbbed and pulsed inside her flooding her with precum, and growing even harder inside her. “Yeah? You like this thick Bear covering you, pinning you, breeding you full?”

Her head thudded back against the wall, as she tried to tighten her legs against his forearms, to arch her body to join his thrusts, digging her nails into his shoulders. “Yes, yes, god, yes... love feeling you like this, love how big you are...”

“Fuck, sugar” his bruised ego drank her words like a man dying of thirst. Each confession went straight to his cock. He could feel her body yielding to him, taking everything he gave, and it made him lose his rhythm, made him rut into her like an animal, making her back slide up and down the wall with every hard thrust.

He lifted his arms to spread her wide to take him deeper. Her cries only grew louder, more desperate, and he couldn’t get enough of it. “You’re mine now, sugar plum. Fuck, ‘m gonna fuck you so good you’ll never look at another man again... gonna make sure you remember this every time you close your eyes.”

She whimpered as he buried his face in her neck, nipping her sensitive skin. “Bucky... Papa... please... don’t stop...” she pleaded, curling her fingers into his hair.

His mouth curved into a half smile against her throat. “Not planning to, sugarplum.” He rolled his hips, grinding deep, making her back arch and her legs quiver. “Not until you’re dripping with me... not until you’re so full of my cum you can’t stand.”

Her body convulsed, one hand remained fisting his hair and the other dragged her nails on his broad back, “Fuck! Yes, I want it so bad...”

He lost whatever thread of control he had left. His thrusts grew brutal, punishing as his cock stretched her, pounding into her with a force that bordered on savage. He watched her face contort with pleasure, as the base of his cock ground deliciously against her swollen clit. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and her eyes rolled back as he drove into her, harder, faster. “You’re gonna take it all... every drop... you understand?”

She could only nod, her words were lost to the raw, consuming pleasure.

He was so close, muscles tensed to the point of aching, his breath ragged as his cock throbbed, his balls tightened, ready to spill. But he held on, watching her, waiting, needing to see her fall apart first.

“Come on, doll... give it to me... come all over my cock... let me feel it...” he growled, as his wide shoulders caged her in. “Bet you’ve never been this full before. Never had someone this big ruin you like this.”

Her nails raked down his back, desperate, her eyes rolling back as she tried to meet his rhythm but was utterly at his mercy. “F-Fuck, Bucky... so... so big...”

“That’s right,” he rasped, a savage grin flashing across his face. “Too big for this pretty little pussy, huh?” he lifted her higher and marked every word with a harder thrust.

Her entire body seized up before she felt herself shatter, arching against his body and squeezing him, milking him so tight he finally let himself go.

“That’s it... make a mess... make a fucking mess for me, doll... fuck!” his cock jerked, pulsing, as his release came hot and violent, spilling thick ropes of cum inside her. He kept grinding his hips, pressing himself as deep as he could, stirring his load inside her until it was too much to contain. The excess bubbled out around his shaft obscenely, warm and sticky, dripping down her thighs and landing on the floor.

He nipped at her collarbone, a lazy smirk curving his lips as he gently withdrew them from the wall. He eased her thighs down just enough to let her hook them around his waist, and his eyes flicked to an old chair in the corner of the room. Without a word, he began to move with steady steps despite the lingering tremors in his muscles. As he walked them over, each stride pressed him deeper inside her, drawing soft whimpers from her swollen lips.

Reaching the chair, he sank down heavily, the wood creaking beneath their weight. She straddled him, still nesting him deep inside her pussy, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, tangling her fingers on his hair. His hands settled on her hips, keeping her pressed close, unwilling to break their connection just yet.

His head fell back against the chair, closing his eyes for a moment as he let himself breathe. “You feel... too damn good. Could stay like this all day...”

Her fingers started to brush his hair gently. “Then don’t move... Just stay. You made sure that no other clients visited today." She slightly pinched his stubbled full cheek. "And... is not fair you didn’t remove any of your clothes besides your jacket in all this ordeal."

He huffed out a low laugh, that rumbled against her chest. “Yeah? That bother you, sugarplum?” His hands slid up her back, splaying wide as he pressed her tighter against him. “You wanna see all of me?”

Her fingers tightened in his hair. “I think it’s only fair,” she murmured, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I wanna see what I’ve been getting my hands on... what I’ve been wanting.” Her eyes dropped pointedly to his still-clothed body, darting her tongue out to wet her lips.

His eyes flicked away for a beat, and his shoulders tensed a little. There was a moment, a fleeting second where his hands stilled on her body, where his fingers dug just a little too hard into her waist. Old doubts echoed in his mind, flashing to his reflection in the mirror, the soft curve of his belly, the heft in his chest that wasn’t just only muscle.

But then she moved, running her hands up his chest, her eyes wide, pupils blown as she whispered. “I want to see you, Bucky.”

His heart thudded hard, but he felt himself relax, the tension ebbing away as he let out a slow, shaky breath. “Alright, sugarplum,” he murmured. “You asked for it.”

In one swift motion, he gripped the hem of his shirt, muscles flexing as he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. He forced himself to sit there, exposed, waiting for the flicker of judgment, for her gaze to catch on his soft middle, or the faint stretch marks on his hips.

But her eyes were wide with interest as she took him in. Her hands roamed over him, tracing her fingers on his skin, lingering on the scars, the old wounds. She palmed his chest, brushing her thumbs over his hardened nipples, and his muscles jumped under her touch.

“Better?” his voice rough, his eyes heavy-lidded as he watched her explore him.

She bit her lip, as she kept worshipping him. “Better... but I’m not done yet.” She added as she trailed softly the scarred flesh where his prosthesis joined his body with her tongue.

His cock twitched with interest inside her, still hard, still nestled so deep. His hands gripped hard on her waist and his eyes narrowed. “You’re playing with fire, sugarplum.”

She smirked, rolling her hips slowly and deliberately. “Then burn me up, Papa Bear.”

Taglist: @civilbucky @blythesarchives

Dividers by:@/cafekitsune

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #fatws bucky #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #chubby! Bucky #4bbingo

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pohyuck · 21 days ago

Text

where pretend becomes real

lee donghyuck x reader — a variety show marriage. a fake spouse. cameras in your face every day. (5.9k)

• in celebration of our fullsun’s birthday!! this story is inspired by the show we got married, though please note that it may contain some inaccuracies, as it’s not strictly based on the show’s actual format or segments

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

you almost didn’t sign the contract.

the offer had come out of nowhere. an email from your manager, phrased with cautious excitement. 'we got married' was being rebooted after years off air. you’d be one of the main couples, if you agreed.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

you reread the email several times before closing your laptop and calling your best friend. “do i look like i have time to fake a marriage right now?” “you’ve literally been single for two years,” she said flatly. “yeah, but at least that’s authentic.”

the truth was, your agency thought it would be good exposure. and part of you, deep down, was curious. about what it would feel like. to pretend to fall in love. about whether pretending might start to feel real.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

donghyuck said yes because he thought it’d be funny. the managers barely got the words out. “they want you for we got married” he started laughing before they finished. “you’re joking. that’s the show where idols act in love for strangers, right?”

but later that night, lying in bed, he scrolled through old clips of the show. something about the way those couples looked at each other in the last episodes stuck with him.

he could fake chemistry. easy. he’d been doing that for stages and fan signs since he was fifteen.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the camera lens captured everything.

your nervous fidgeting, the way your eyes darted around the unfamiliar set, the tiny puff of breath you let out when the PD said, “action.”

you weren’t a stranger to the industry, but this was different. this wasn’t acting. this was you, paired with someone you’d never met, pretending to be newlyweds on national television.

and then he walked in.

lee donghyuck. better known to most as haechan—nct’s infamous sunshine with a mischievous streak and a smile that could disarm even the toughest senior idol.

you have seen clips of him before: teasing his members and turning charm into a weapon. and now, he stood in front of you, grinning like he already knew all your secrets.

“oh?” he said, head tilting slightly. “they really blessed me with a pretty wife.” you blinked. “they told me my husband would be cute, but i didn’t expect him to flirt five seconds in.”

he laughed, hand coming up to hide his mouth. “gotta give the fans what they want. don’t worry, i’m not always like this.”

“…actually, i am”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the first few shoots were awkward, as expected.

you learned quickly that haechan had no shame in front of the camera. he was a professional flirt, tossing out compliments and jokes with effortless precision. every time you thought you had the upper hand, he’d flip the script.

"you’re not wearing your ring," he pointed out during episode two, eyes flicking to your bare finger as the two of you sat across from each other in a café.

"i forgot," you said, deadpan. "i left it next to the dignity i lost when they made us do couple yoga yesterday." he cracked up, but you caught the flicker of something behind his smile. maybe he hadn’t expected you to match his energy.

after that, it became a rhythm. witty back-and-forths. glances that lingered a second too long. moments that should’ve been harmless, like sharing an umbrella, decorating your "married" apartment, brushing flour off his cheek during a baking segment, but somehow weren’t.

you told yourself it was the cameras. the setting. the editing. they were supposed to make it look romantic.

still, you couldn’t help but notice the way haechan’s teasing softened when the staff weren’t around. how he started remembering the smallest things about you. how, during the fourth shoot, when your heel broke and you stumbled slightly, he caught you with an ease that felt too natural.

he blinked down at you. you blinked up at him.

then someone yelled "cut" and the moment disappeared like smoke.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

it was around episode six when things started to shift.

you were filming a camping trip. just the two of you, a tent, a rented suv, and several production crew members pretending not to exist.

after the marshmallow roasting and scripted couple games, you found yourselves sitting by the fire, wrapped in matching blankets. it was one of those rare lulls where neither of you felt like performing.

"are you always like this?" you asked. he glanced at you. "like what?"

“like you’re constantly trying to win some imaginary flirting competition."

haechan smirked. "would it kill you to admit i’m charming?" "i think the entire population already knows that," you said flatly.

his smile widened. "so you do think i’m charming." you groaned, pulling the blanket over your face. "regret. immediate regret."

but he didn’t tease you further.

instead, he sat in quiet beside you. the fire crackled. you could hear distant rustling, maybe a staff member adjusting the camera angle, but the world felt oddly still.

you peeked out from under the blanket. haechan was watching the flames, his expression unusually unreadable.

"you know," he said after a moment, voice low, "i thought this would be easier."

you turned to him. "what do you mean?"

he didn’t look at you. "i thought i’d be better at pretending."

you didn’t answer. you weren’t sure you could.

because the truth was, you were struggling too.

not because you didn’t like him.

but because maybe you did.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the next few shoots blurred together.

the couple trip to busan. the matching outfits. the accidental hand-holding that neither of you pulled away from. the unscripted glances. the too-long hugs. the inside jokes that the cameras didn’t catch.

you still called it acting. he still called it fan service.

but the way his hand always found the small of your back? the way you leaned into his shoulder when you were tired between takes?

that wasn’t in the script.

neither was the night he texted you after filming, a message that simply said:

"are you okay? you seemed quiet today."

you stared at it for too long before replying:

"yeah. just tired. thanks."

he didn’t say anything else.

but the next shoot, he brought you your favorite coffee order without asking.

you didn’t thank him. he didn’t mention it. the moment passed quietly, like all the others.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

it happened on an off day. no cameras. no script. just the two of you, killing time between schedules.

your manager had dropped you off early at the company building. haechan’s studio was just a floor above, and somehow you ended up in the practice room together. music played low from the speakers, nothing specific, just some playlist on shuffle. you were stretched out on the wooden floor with a water bottle pressed to your cheek, eyes closed.

"you know you’re allowed to sit on the couch," haechan said, voice light.

"i’m cooling off," you mumbled. "this floor has healing properties. don’t question them."

he laughed, sitting cross-legged beside you, watching as the sunlight through the window caught the edge of your hair.

for a while, neither of you said anything. it was easy, being quiet with you. easier than it should’ve been.

he leaned back on his hands, eyes tracing the outline of your face.

you were still in your casual clothes, makeup faded from earlier, a faint sheen of sweat on your skin from dance practice. there was nothing particularly special about the moment.

you opened one eye, looking at him sideways.

"what?"

"nothing," he said, too quickly.

you sat up a little. not fully, just enough to look at him properly.

"do i have something on my face?"

"no," he said again, quieter this time. "you just... look different when you’re not acting."

you blinked. "we’re not acting most of the time."

"aren’t we?" he asked. and then smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "sometimes i forget what’s real."

you watched him carefully, the air going still between you.

"i don’t think it matters anymore," you said eventually, voice soft. "real or fake. you’re still here."

he looked at you like you’d said something too big. like he hadn’t expected you to cut through him so cleanly.

you turned away after a second, brushing your hair out of your face. he didn’t move.

and that’s when it hit him.

not with fireworks. not with a romantic soundtrack or some grand emotional monologue. just a quiet, breathless awareness that settled into his chest like gravity.

he liked you.

he thought about you even when he didn’t have to. texted you jokes late at night, rehearsed conversations he wanted to have with you while waiting in traffic. his mood shifted depending on whether you smiled at him that day. he’d started looking forward to filming, not because of the exposure or the paycheck, but because it meant he got to stand next to you for a few hours and pretend you were his.

and it wasn’t pretend anymore.

haechan looked down at his hands. his palms were a little sweaty.

he was in trouble.

he stayed quiet after that, afraid that if he opened his mouth, the truth might spill out too fast.

you didn’t notice the way he looked at you after that.

but he did. and he didn’t stop.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

he didn’t flirt as much anymore.

at least, not in the same way.

it was subtle, the way things shifted. haechan still joked, still teased, but his words started landing softer. less edge, more care. the things he used to say to get a reaction out of you—calling you pretty just to see you roll your eyes, leaning too close just to fluster you— were all starting to feel real.

you didn’t notice.

or maybe you did, but refused to mind it.

when you got a sore throat from overworking and showed up to set with a raspy voice, he handed you a warm honey drink without a word. you assumed a staff member gave it to him.

when you forgot your phone charger during an overnight shoot and muttered about your battery dying, he offered you his without hesitation.

"don’t you need it?"

"i can live without my phone for one night," he said, smiling.

when your hands were cold in the middle of winter filming, he tucked one of them into his coat pocket with his.

you laughed. "you’re just doing this for the cameras." "yeah," he said. but he wasn’t looking at the cameras.

you brushed it off. he was haechan. playful, dramatic, full of unnecessary skinship. you’d seen him flirt with microphones, charm auntie fans, do aegyo on command like it was second nature.

so when he started waiting for you after your other schedules, just to walk you out, when he started sending you good morning texts before call time, and good night ones after wrap, when he got weirdly quiet whenever someone on set joked about you two being a real couple, you didn’t think too hard about it.

because thinking too hard would mean acknowledging that it felt different now. that he felt different now.

you told yourself it was still fake. that he was just that good at his job.

you didn’t notice the way his gaze lingered on you when you weren’t looking.

didn’t catch how he started memorizing your moods, your habits, your silences. how he stopped filling every silence with jokes and started letting you be.

you stayed blissfully, stubbornly unaware.

and haechan let you.

because even though he wanted you to see it—even though his feelings were starting to rise up like a tide, impossible to hold back—he was still scared.

scared that if he said it out loud, the spell would break. scared that you didn’t feel it too. scared that you’d laugh, like it was just another punchline.

so instead, he kept showing you in all the quiet ways.

and you, heart fluttering in ways you still refused to name, kept calling it coincidence.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

episode thirteen.

you weren’t nervous, exactly. but you did reapply your lip tint twice in the van on the way over.

the producers had teased a surprise guest for today’s shoot, and variety shows loved nothing more than forced love triangles. you braced for awkward. but you didn’t brace for him.

cha sungwoo.

tall. handsome. charming in that effortless, trained-for-this way. you’d filmed a drama together almost two years ago, and for a brief moment, fans thought the on-screen chemistry might have spilled off-camera. it hadn’t. but the rumors stuck anyway.

"look who it is," sungwoo said as you stepped onto set, voice warm. "didn’t think i’d get to see you again on a fake honeymoon."

you smiled automatically. "long time no see."

beside you, haechan shifted his weight.

he didn’t say anything at first. just watched. his expression was unreadable, but his silence was louder than anything.

finally, he spoke.

"should i be worried?" he asked, light tone cutting sharp beneath the surface. "or is this just good tv?"

"depends," sungwoo said, amused. "are you the jealous type?"

haechan smiled. not the usual, teasing kind—the one that reached his eyes. this one was smaller. flatter.

"only when i have a reason to be."

you laughed, trying to brush it off, but your fingers tightened slightly around the sleeve of your jacket.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the shoot moved on. it was supposed to be funny and competitive—three of you cooking dinner together like a sitcom setup.

you were chopping vegetables when sungwoo leaned in behind you, his hands brushing yours.

"still bad with a knife?" he said, voice low near your ear.

you didn’t even flinch. "i’ve improved."

but behind you, haechan dropped the spatula he was holding.

you turned. "you okay?"

he bent to pick it up, muttering, "yeah. slipped."

but when he stood again, his eyes didn’t meet yours.

they were still on sungwoo.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

later, the three of you sat at the low table, eating what barely passed as a meal. the cameras were still rolling, but things had turned quiet.

sungwoo was telling a story—something about a late-night shoot and a prank. you were laughing, loose and warm in a way you hadn’t noticed before.

and haechan was watching you.

his chopsticks hung in mid-air. his shoulders tense. his jaw set like he was biting back words.

you looked at him. "what?"

he blinked. "nothing."

you tilted your head. "you’re acting weird."

"just tired."

"you sure?"

he didn’t answer right away. then he leaned in, low voice meant only for you.

"you act like none of this matters," he said quietly.

you stared at him. "what?"

"this." he gestured, vague. "the show. the pretending. him."

you searched his face, unsure if this was part of the bit or something else entirely.

"we’re just filming, haechan."

his eyes didn’t leave yours.

"maybe you are."

the words hung there. suspended between you, fragile and real.

you opened your mouth to respond—but the PD clapped, announcing a break, and the spell broke with it.

haechan stood up without another word and walked off set.

you sat there, blinking, unsure why your chest felt so tight.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

you didn’t call haechan after the shoot.

you almost did. twice.

once, when you got home and dropped your bag on the floor like something was missing.

once more, in the middle of the night, when you were staring at your ceiling and couldn’t stop replaying the way he looked at you before he walked off set.

you didn’t call. you couldn’t.

so instead, you called her. your best friend. the one who knew the before version of you, before the show, before the cameras, before him.

"hey, everything alright?" chiya asked, her voice quiet over the line. soft with sleep but already worried.

"can i come over?"

"always."

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

her apartment was warm. messy in the way homes should be. you sat on the floor wrapped in an old hoodie you’d left there months ago, your fingers curled around a mug of tea neither of you remembered making.

you told her everything. not just about today, but about all of it.

the way filming used to feel like a joke, like a role you could slip into and out of without thinking.

how that changed.

how he changed.

how you changed.

"today… he looked at me like he didn’t recognize me," you said. "like he was hurt, and trying really hard not to be."

she didn’t speak, letting the silence hold space for you.

"and when sungwoo showed up, it felt like the air shifted. like i’d stepped into a room i didn’t belong in anymore."

"because of haechan?" she asked gently.

you nodded.

"he didn’t say much. just… one thing."

"what’d he say?"

you swallowed.

"he said, ‘you act like none of this matters.’"

the words still echoed in your head. they’d been soft, almost careful. like he wasn’t trying to pick a fight. like he was asking you to see him.

"and i didn’t know what to say. because i didn’t know how to tell him that i think it does matter. more than it should. more than i want it to."

your voice shook.

"and i’m scared. i’m scared that maybe this isn’t just acting anymore. not for me."

your best friend moved closer, resting her chin on your shoulder like she used to when you were both teenagers, crying over things that felt too big for your hearts to hold.

"have you ever been in love before?" she asked quietly.

"not like this."

you weren’t even sure it was love. but it was something. something that blossomed slowly, and then all at once, when you weren’t looking.

"he makes me feel like i’m being seen. not the version of me that the cameras want. just... me. and when he looks at me, sometimes i feel like he’s about to say something he doesn’t know how to say."

"and what do you want him to say?"

you paused. the answer hurt to admit.

"that i’m not just imagining it."

your friend reached over, squeezing your hand.

"you’re not," she said. "i don’t even need to meet him to know. you’re not the kind of person who gets confused about this stuff. you’d never fall for someone unless it was real. and it sounds like you already have."

your eyes stung.

"i didn’t mean to."

"you never do."

she pulled you into a hug, and for the first time since you wrapped that scene, you let the weight of it press down on you. not the confusion. not the fear. just the feeling.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

episode fourteen

you weren’t sure how to act around him now.

you told yourself you’d just play it cool. do what you always did: slip into character, smile when you were supposed to, laugh when the producers gave you a cue, go home.

but when you saw haechan waiting on set, leaning against the kitchen counter in the little “home” you’d built together over the past months, sleeves pushed up, hair still damp from styling, something inside you stilled.

he looked up when you walked in.

and then he smiled.

small. real. tired, maybe. but his eyes softened the way they always did when he looked at you.

"hey," he said, voice gentle.

"hey," you replied, and the word felt different in your mouth. too small for how much you’d missed him in just a few days.

he opened his mouth like he was going to say more, but the PD clapped loudly and called for standby.

you both moved into position like professionals.

but you couldn’t stop glancing at him.

and he didn’t look away when you did.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the day’s concept was domestic bliss.

folding laundry. grocery shopping. making dinner together. things that looked boring on paper but, somehow, felt like the most intimate parts of the fake marriage.

just pretend it’s real, the writer joked before you started rolling.

you wanted to say, it’s getting harder to pretend it’s not.

you were standing beside haechan at the sink, rinsing vegetables, when your fingers brushed under the running water. you flinched slightly.

he didn’t.

his hand stayed against yours just for a second too long.

your heart skipped, and you hated how noticeable it felt. how loud it became in your own chest.

"you okay?" he asked, voice low.

you nodded too quickly. "just cold water."

he didn’t call you out on it. but his eyes didn’t leave yours for a long time.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

after filming, you stayed behind for a bit. the cameras were off, the crew busy packing up equipment. haechan was still in the kitchen, stacking plates to be returned to props.

you didn’t know why you lingered. only that you didn’t want to leave yet.

he looked up, sensing you there.

"you didn’t call," he said quietly.

you froze. "what?"

"after the last shoot. i thought maybe you would. or… maybe i hoped you would."

you opened your mouth. closed it again.

"i didn’t know what to say," you said eventually.

he nodded, like he understood. like he’d expected that.

then, after a long pause

"you don’t have to say anything," he murmured. "but i need you to know… i wasn’t acting. not with that."

you met his eyes. for once, there was no smirk. no sarcasm. nothing playful to hide behind.

just him.

just the truth.

your breath caught in your throat.

but before you could speak, a crew member popped their head in.

"you guys done? we need to lock up soon."

haechan glanced away. the moment passed like a held breath.

he nodded slowly. "yeah. we’re done."

but as you walked out of that little house, your fingers still tingling from the brush of his, you knew something had shifted for good.

you weren’t just playing pretend anymore.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

it was the last shoot before the final week.

the set felt more quiet than usual, like the whole crew was holding their breath. maybe because everyone knew this was the last stretch—the end of the show, the end of pretending.

you and haechan moved through the day’s scenes with practiced ease, but the easy rhythm from before was gone. now, everything between you felt heavy, like invisible strings tugging tighter with every look and every touch.

you were sitting on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone, but you weren’t really looking at the screen. your eyes kept flicking to haechan, who was sitting beside you, hands folded awkwardly on his lap.

he glanced at you once, then quickly looked away, face unreadable.

the silence between you stretched longer than usual, thick and uncomfortable.

finally, you broke it, voice barely above a whisper.

“are you okay?”

he didn’t answer right away. then, without meeting your eyes, he said, “i’m fine.”

you didn’t believe him.

he shifted in his seat, fingers twitching like he wanted to say more but couldn’t.

the director called “cut,” and the crew buzzed quietly as they reset the next scene, but you and haechan stayed still, caught in a space where neither wanted to cross the line first.

he looked over, voice low, almost rough.

“this… all of this. it’s harder than i thought.”

you swallowed, heart racing.

“yeah.”

“i don’t want it to end,” he said, eyes finally locking with yours.

you felt your breath hitch. everything inside you was screaming to reach out, to tell him you felt the same, but the words stuck.

“me neither,” you whispered.

he gave a small, sad smile.

“what do we do now?”

you looked down, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“i don’t know.”

but maybe that was okay.

maybe the not knowing was the start of something real.

the cameras might have been off for the moment, but the space between you was alive with everything you couldn’t say—and everything you both desperately wanted to feel.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the last day of filming felt like the end of something you weren’t ready to lose.

the set was buzzing with energy, but for you and haechan, it was heavy. heavier than before. the playful teasing, the easy smiles—they were all there, but beneath them was a current you could no longer ignore.

during a break, you found yourselves alone in the quiet corner of the studio. the noise of crew and cameras faded, and suddenly the space between you felt too small.

haechan looked at you. his usual grin gone, replaced by something softer, vulnerable.

“i’ve been a coward,” he said, voice low, almost breaking.

you blinked, heart pounding.

“me too,” you whispered back.

he took a slow breath, stepping closer, hands trembling slightly at his sides.

“i was supposed to be the one who didn’t fall,” he said, “but it’s me. it’s always been me.”

you swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in.

“why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“because i was scared,” he admitted. “scared you wouldn’t feel the same. scared it was just me.”

your eyes stung. “it’s not just you.”

the silence stretched, thick and full of everything you hadn’t said before.

finally, he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “can i.. hold you?”

your breath hitched, but you nodded.

as he pulled you close, the world outside the studio ceased to exist.

for the first time, pretending wasn’t enough. this was real.

and somehow, it left you feeling both lucky and appalled.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the studio emptied quickly, the usual noise fading until you and haechan were left alone. the silence between you felt thick, heavy with everything neither of you had dared to say.

he led you to the rooftop garden, the soft glow of string lights wrapping around the space like a secret only the two of you shared.

you sat close, shoulders brushing, every tiny movement sending sparks you could feel deep under your skin.

his fingers found yours, slow and deliberate, thumb tracing lazy circles on your palm. the warmth of his touch spread, setting fire to nerves you didn’t know you had.

he tilted his head, eyes dark and searching. “you feel it too, right?”

your breath hitched, heart pounding. “i do.”

his hand slid from your palm, fingers grazing your wrist, then up your arm, light as a whisper.

“this,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “this isn’t just for show.”

you swallowed hard, the heat in your chest rising. his gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, daring you to say no.

instead, you leaned in, letting your breath mingle, the space between you crackling with anticipation.

when he finally closed the gap, his kiss was slow, teasing—like he was savoring every second.

his hand cupped your neck, thumb stroking softly, sending shivers down your spine.

you curled into him, the world narrowing to the press of skin on skin, the heat of his breath, the ache building in your chest.

he pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, “i’ve wanted this for so long.”

your voice barely a whisper, “me too.”

the night wrapped around you, every touch, every glance loaded with a promise neither of you was ready to say out loud.

but both of you knew.

this was only the beginning.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

soft light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room.

you stirred slowly, the weight of haechan’s arm draped over your waist anchoring you in place.

for a moment, everything was still, the world outside paused, and there was just this—the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the quiet rhythm of breath and heartbeat.

you turned your head slightly, catching his profile in the morning light. his eyes were closed, lashes resting softly against his cheeks, peaceful and completely unguarded.

a gentle smile tugged at your lips.

careful not to wake him, you traced lazy circles on his arm, memorizing the feeling of skin beneath your fingertips.

he shifted slightly, murmuring something unintelligible, but didn’t open his eyes.

you let yourself soak in the quiet intimacy, the kind of closeness you hadn’t dared imagine before.

finally, haechan blinked open his eyes, meeting yours with a soft, sleepy smile.

“good morning,” he whispered, voice rough but warm.

“good morning,” you replied, heart fluttering.

he tightened his arm around you just a little, as if afraid you might disappear.

“last night was… real,” he said, voice low, full of something like awe.

you nodded, feeling the same weight of it.

“yeah,” you said softly. “it was.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke, just held onto the fragile newness of what had started between you.

and in the quiet of that morning, everything felt possible.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the studio was buzzing again, crew rushing, cameras rolling, but for you and haechan, the world felt different.

you caught each other’s eyes across the set more times than you could count, every look loaded with a secret neither dared say out loud.

during a break, haechan slipped beside you, voice low enough that only you could hear.

“you okay?” he asked, thumb brushing lightly over your hand.

you nodded, heart pounding. “yeah. just… tired.”

he gave a small, knowing smile. “me too.”

the silence between you felt full, like an unspoken understanding.

filming felt harder now. not because the scenes were difficult, but because the line between acting and feeling was thinner than ever.

when the director called cut, you both lingered, reluctant to step back into the roles you’d played for so long.

haechan caught your gaze, eyes searching.

“we need to talk,” he said quietly.

your breath hitched.

“about us,” he added, voice softer now.

you nodded, the weight of it settling in your chest.

“after this is over,” you whispered.

“of course,” he agreed.

the cameras might have been rolling again soon, but in that moment, the world outside could wait.

because finally, you were ready to stop pretending.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the days after filming ended felt like a strange in-between.

you and haechan were no longer pretending, but everything else still felt like uncharted territory.

text messages came more often now, sometimes just a good morning or a meme that made you laugh, other times long, quiet conversations about fears and hopes.

you met up after practice one evening, somewhere quiet—a small café off the main streets where no one knew your names.

he was a little awkward, fumbling with his words like he was nervous all over again.

“i’m not great at this,” he admitted, stirring his coffee.

“neither am i,” you said, smiling softly.

he reached across the table, taking your hand. “guess we’re both beginners.”

some days were easier than others. sometimes, a glance or a touch spoke louder than any words.

other times, the weight of schedules, the constant eyes watching, made it hard to find space just for the two of you.

but slowly, you learned to navigate the new rhythm—stealing moments between rehearsals, quiet calls in the middle of the night, little jokes shared just between you.

there were missteps, too—missed calls, misunderstandings, moments where the fear of losing what you had made you both pull away.

but every time, you found your way back.

because beneath it all was something real, something neither of you wanted to let go.

and as the days turned into weeks, you realized that maybe, just maybe, this was more than just a story.

it was your story.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

it started with a headline.

nothing scandalous, but enough to stir the internet—a fan account posted a blurry photo of you and haechan leaving a café, the caption dripping with speculation.

are they dating for real?

fake marriage turned real?

what does this mean for their agencies?

the messages flooded your phone—some from friends, some from fans, some from strangers.

you stared at the screen, heart pounding.

haechan was beside you, phone in hand, face tight.

“they’re going to spin this into a mess,” he muttered.

you nodded, biting your lip.

it was the first time your private feelings had become public territory, and neither of you knew how to navigate it.

that evening, you met at haechan’s dorm, wanting to face it together.

“what do we do?” you asked, voice trembling.

he took your hands in his, eyes steady and fierce.

“we don’t let rumors define us,” he said. “we keep being honest. with each other, and when we’re ready, with everyone else.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the weight of the moment.

“i’m scared,” you admitted. “of losing what we have.”

he pulled you close, forehead resting against yours.

“me too,” he said. “but whatever happens, i’m not walking away.”

in that quiet room, surrounded by the noise of the world outside, you found a promise that felt stronger than any headline.

you weren’t just partners on a show anymore.

you were something real.

and you would face whatever came next—together.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the room was tense as you and haechan sat across from your agencies. the conversation was careful, cautious, filled with questions you’d both anticipated but dreaded.

“are you sure this isn’t just for publicity?” one manager asked.

“this is real,” haechan said quietly, eyes locked on yours. “we want to take this seriously.”

your own manager nodded slowly, “then we’ll support you. but you need to be prepared for everything.”

the words hung heavy in the air, a mix of relief and new pressure settling over you.

once the meetings ended, you didn’t speak much on the way back. the city lights blurred past the windows, your hands finally finding each other’s in the quiet.

as soon as you stepped inside haechan’s apartment, the tension broke.

he pulled you close, fingers threading through your hair, lips pressing soft and sure against yours.

“no matter what they say,” he murmured between kisses, “this is ours.”

you traced his jawline, heart pounding in your chest.

“ours,” you echoed.

the night wrapped around you, a sanctuary from the world.

in the quiet between heartbeats, you’ve found a place—a fragile world where pretend becomes real.

#haechan #haechan x reader #lee donghyuck #nct #nct x you #nct fic #nct x reader #lee donghyuk x reader #haechan x oc #haechan x y/n #haechan x you #haechan fluff #lee haechan #happy birthday haechan #nct imagines #haechan imagines

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requiemforthepoets · 5 months ago

Text

the story we won’t tell is my greatest fantasy ⟢ LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: seven years. you and lando had been together for seven years, but it all went down the drain the moment he decided to come clean about the mistake that he did.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, breakup, cheating, cheater lando, pregnancy, secret child, mentions of nausea and vomiting, fainting, angst, open ending, math is not mathing (but i tried), some inaccuracies, named side characters (except for the reader), single!mom reader, and minor typographical errors

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic is inspired by niki’s song ‘apartment we won’t share,’ ik that we have diff interpretations for the songs, but i interpret it as the way how i wrote this fic. i’m not planning on doing a second part of this, and just leave it an open ending. but if someday i get inspired, i’ll try and make a part 2 for this, though for now, there will be no part 2 for this fic. i will be leaving the ending all up to you. you comments/reblogs is highly appreciated, and i hope that you’ll enjoy this one.

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It had been a long and exhausting week. The lingering ache from your family emergency still tugged at your heart, so to keep off your mind from things, you had spent most of the day sorting through Lando’s things, folding clothes and making sure his suitcase was ready for his flight to another race weekend. It was the kind of task you had done so many times in the last seven years, but this time, it felt heavier, like there was something wrong that you couldn’t quite place.

When Lando returned to Monaco a few days later, you expected him to be his usual vibrant self, but something was off with him. Lando’s eyes seemed heavier, his posture slouched, and smile lacked the spark that you were used to.

“Hey, can we talk for a second?” he asked, voice unusually subdued.

You set down the shirt you had been folding, brows furrowing. “Sure, of course,” you replied, taking a seat on the couch. “What’s on your mind?”

Lando hesitated, hands fidgeting with the edge of his hoodie. He sat across from you, knees bouncing slightly as he stared at the floor. “You know I love you, right? More than anything.”

A faint smile crossed your lips. “I know, Lan, and you made sure to let me know everyday for seven years.”

He looked up briefly, gaze fleeting before dropping back to the floor. “I need to tell you something, I wanted to be completely honest with you…and it’s probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Lando’s tone, demeanor—it was all wrong, and you were getting really nervous by now. “What is it?” you asked, voice quiet, wary.

Lando took a deep breath, his hands now gripping his knees as if to ground himself. “When I was out for a night with the guys a month ago…I messed up.”

Your stomach churned. You didn’t want to interrupt him, waiting for Lando to continue, though every fiber of your being wanted to scream at him, to demand some answers.

“There was…someone at the club that night,” he said, words slow and measured, like he was forcing them out of him. “It was stupid, an honest mistake. I was so drunk, caught up in everything, and I wasn’t thinking.”

You felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. “W-What are you saying?” you managed, voice barely above a whisper.

Lando finally looked at you, eyes glistening. “I accidentally slept with her. It was a one-time thing, I swear, then she called me last week—I don’t even know how she got my number, but she told me that she’s pregnant.

Pregnant.

The words hit you like a freight train. You stared at him, mind completely blank, unable to process what he had just said. Tears began to blur your vision, but you didn’t wipe them away.

“Lando…” you tried to speak up, but your voice cracked.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said, voice shaking. “I didn’t know what to do. All I could think about was how much I’ve hurt you. But I can’t let my kid grow up without a family. I know how much family means to you, to me. I have to be there for them.”

Your heart shattered into pieces. You could see how much Lando was struggling, the guilt etched into every line of his face. But the pain of his betrayal was unbearable.

“I don’t…I don’t have anything to say anymore, honestly,” you said finally, voice trembling. “Because you had already made your decision—you’re choosing them.”

Lando shook his head vehemently. “No! No, I’m not choosing anyone over you. You’re the love of my life. That hasn’t changed and never will.”

“Lando, you can’t have both,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t stay here knowing all of these. I can’t be a part of this.”

He reached out as if to touch you, but you recoiled. You couldn’t bear his touch right now. “Please love,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I love you. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“You already have,” you said softly, standing up and wiping your tears. “I won’t hold you back, Lando. You need to do what’s right for your child. They deserve a family, and I will not be the reason why they don’t have one.”

You walked to your shared bedroom, your movements mechanical as you began packing your things. Every item you placed in your suitcase felt like a dagger to your chest. This apartment had been your home, your safe haven, and now it was just a place you needed to escape from. Lando just stood in the doorway, watching you pack all of your things, his face pale and tear-streaked. He didn’t try to stop you—he knew that he couldn’t.

When you zipped up your suitcase and grabbed your bag, you turned to him one last time. “Take care of both of them,” you said, voice barely audible. “Be the father they need.

With that, you walked out of the apartment, out of the life you and Lando had built together. You had loved him for seven years, trusted him with every piece of your heart. But now, all you had was the emptiness of what could have been.

The crisp night air bit at your skin as you stood by the entrance of the apartment building, clutching the handle of your suitcase. Your ride to the airport was just a few minutes away, but the wait felt eternal. You stared blankly at the sidewalk, mind is a chaotic mess, the weight of everything that had happened tonight pressing heavily on your chest.

You heard familiar voices approaching before you saw them, their cheerful tones instantly recognizable. Quickly, you wiped at your cheeks, hoping your red-rimmed eyes wouldn’t give you away. Plastering on a smile, you turned towards Max and Kelly as they walked towards the entrance, hand in hand, their expressions bright despite the late hour.

“Hey! What are you doing out here so late?” Kelly asked, brows knitting in concern as she noticed the two large suitcases beside you.

You hesitated, forcing your smile to stay in place. “I, uh, have a family emergency,” you lied smoothly, voice steady even though your heart was pounding. “I need to head back home for a bit.”

Max tilted his head slightly, sharp blue eyes scanning you with the protective gaze you had come to know so well over the years. “Two large suitcases for just a quick trip? That seems a bit much,” he remarked lightly, though his tone carried a hint of suspicion.

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “It’s just…really complicated right now. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, so I packed extra, just in case.”

Kelly’s hand tightened on Max’s arm as she stepped closer to you, her concern evident. “Is Lando not home right now? Why didn’t you tell us earlier? We could’ve helped you pack, we can drive you to the airport.”

You shook your head quickly. “Lan’s already sleeping and I hate to wake him up, he just recently got back from his trip. I also didn’t want to bother you, I’ve already called a car, and it should be here any minute.”

They exchanged a look, clearly unconvinced but respectful enough not to press you further. “Well, we’re not leaving you out here alone,” Max said firmly. “We’ll wait with you until your ride gets here.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the determined set of his jaw told you it would all be just pointless. Instead, you nodded, grateful for their presence even as it made it harder to hold yourself together.

Kelly gave you a warm smile, trying to ease the tension. “It’s late, but P was asking about you earlier,” she said softly. “She’s been begging to have another day with her favorite Auntie.”

Your heart clenched at the mention of Penelope, and you forced your smile to widen. “I’ll miss her so much,” you said, voice thick despite your best efforts. “Tell her I’ll see her soon.”

Kelly’s brow furrowed slightly at your words, but before she could say anything, your ride had pulled up to the curb. Relief and dread washed over you in equal measure. Max then stepped forward immediately, grabbing your suitcases with ease.

“I’ll load these up for you,” he said, tone gruff but kind.

“Thank you,” you murmured, watching as he placed your suitcases in the trunk of the car.

When Max turned back, Kelly pulled you into a tight hug, her familiar perfume bringing a rush of bittersweet comfort. “Take care of yourself, okay?” she whispered. “Whatever’s going on, we’re here for you.”

You nodded against her shoulder, your throat too tight to respond. When she pulled away, Max had stepped forward, wrapping you in a hug that was strong and protective, just like he always was.

“Be back soon, okay? P will be missing her favorite Aunt.” he said, chuckling. “If you need anything, you call me or Kelly. No excuses.”

“I will,” you promised, though you knew that you wouldn’t.

As you stepped back, Kelly offered you a gentle smile. “When you get back, P will be so excited to see you again. You know how much she loves spending time with you.”

The lump in your throat grew, and you could only nod in response. You managed a faint smile as you climbed into the car, giving them one final wave.

“Safe travels,” Kelly called out as Max closed the door for you.

You watched them through the window, standing together on the curb, their figures illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. They waved as the car pulled away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wave back again. Instead, you turned your gaze forward, the city lights blurring through the tears that silently slid down your cheeks.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

When you finally arrived back home, the weight of the long hour of flight clung to you like a heavy fog. You dragged your suitcases through the familiar front door, exhaustion etched into every inch of your body. The warm, welcoming scent of your childhood home did little to comfort you, instead, it only amplified the ache in your chest. All you wanted was to collapse into your bed and wake up to a world where none of this had ever happened—a world where your heart wasn’t shattered into pieces. But this was your reality, as cruel as it was.

You definitely hadn’t anticipated seeing your older sister, Noelle, and her husband, Mike, in the living room, seated across from your mother, their laughter filling the space. The sound abruptly stopped when they noticed you standing in the doorway, your pale face and tired eyes a huge giveaway of the turmoil you tried so desperately to hide.

“What are you doing here?” Noelle asked, rising from her seatc brows knitting together in concern. “You didn’t tell us that you were coming home.”

Noelle’s brows knit together as she took in your disheveled appearance, her sharp eyes catching every detail—dark circles under your eyes, stiffness in your movements, and the forced smile you mustered.

“Yeah,” you replied quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I, uh, needed to come home for a bit.”

Your mother rose from her seat as well, concern etched into her features. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, gaze darting between you and the suitcases you had left by the door.

You hesitated, throat tightening. You had been dreading this moment, knowing full well how much your family adored Lando so much. They had welcomed him with open arms from the start, treating him as one of their own. Now, you were about to break their hearts almost as much as he had broken yours.

“It’s nothing,” you said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I just needed a change of scenery, that’s all.”

Noelle stood, arms crossed as she gave you a pointed look. “Don’t give me that kind of excuse. You don’t just show up unannounced looking like this for no reason. What really happened?”

You swallowed hard, avoiding Noelle’s gaze. “Lando and I broke up,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The whole room fell silent, the weight of your words sinking in. Your mother’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide with shock. “Oh, my darling sweetheart,” she breathed.

Noelle, however, was not so subdued. “What?” she exclaimed, voice rising. “What do you mean you broke up? What happened? Did he do something stupid?”

“No!” you said quickly, shaking your head. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” she pressed, tone sharp.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed. “We just…fell out of love. The both of us,” you said, hating the words even as you said then. “We’ve been together for so long, and I guess we just realized that we weren’t the same people years ago anymore. It didn’t make sense to keep on pretending, we’ll just end up hurting ourselves in the long run.”

Noelle’s eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced. “That doesn’t sound like Lando at all. The man adores you so much, even worships the ground you walk on.”

“He did,” you said softly, chest tightening. “And I adored him too. But people change, feelings change.”

Your mother stepped closer, her hands reaching for yours. “Are you sure this is what you wanted?” she asked gently.

You nodded, the lump in your throat growing. “It’s for the best,” you lied, voice cracking slightly.

Mike, who had been silent until now, placed a hand on Noelle’s shoulder. “If this is what she’s decided, we should respect it,” he said quietly, giving you a small, understanding nod.

Noelle just sighed, clearly torn between pressing you for further information and letting it go. Finally, she relented, though her expression was still skeptical.

“I just don’t want you to regret this,” she said, voice more softer now. “You two were so good together.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep you from breaking down. “I’ll be okay, eventually,” you said, words hollow.

Your mother pulled you into a tight embrace, her warmth briefly soothing the ache in your chest. “Whatever happens, we’re always here for you,” she murmured.

“Thanks, mommy,” you whispered, blinking back tears.

As you pulled away, your sister gave you a long look, her expression unreadable. “If he hurt you—” she started, but you cut her off.

“He didn’t,” you said firmly, voice steady despite the storm inside you. “It just didn’t work out. That’s all.”

Noelle still didn’t look convinced, but she nodded, clearly sensing that there’s more to it, and you didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Alright,” she said quietly. “But if you ever want to talk, I’m here, okay? We’re all here.”

You gave her a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes like it used to. “Thank you,” you said, words barely audible.

Excusing yourself, you retreated to your old bedroom, closing the door behind you gently and sinking onto the comfort of your bed. The familiar surroundings brought no comfort, only a stark reminder of the life you had left behind. While you lay down, staring at the ceiling, the tears finally came, silent and unrelenting.

You had still protected Lando from your family’s anger, even though he did not deserve any of it, and now, you were left to pick up the pieces alone.

The Nausea hits you like clockwork every morning. You found yourself rushing to the bathroom, stomach twisting in protest against seemingly nothing. It had started a few weeks ago, and though you had initially dismissed it as a lingering flu or perhaps the stress with work finally catching up to you, it was becoming harder to ignore. Rest didn’t seem to help you, but you assured yourself that it wasn’t that serious. Besides, you have work to focus on, and that was enough to keep your mind occupied, most of the time.

Two months had already passed since you had left Monaco for good, and life had begun to settle into a new rhythm. Yes, the ache in your chest was still there, but it had been dulled into something manageable. You were slowly rebuilding yourself, piece by piece, though the nausea was an unwelcome distraction.

It was a normal afternoon, while you were curled up on the beanbag chair in your bedroom after a long and tiring day, your phone buzzed. The caller ID that was displayed on the screen made your breath catch for a moment—Kelly. You hesitated before answering, already bracing yourself for the conversation. Her face appeared on the screen, bright and concerned.

“Finally, I caught you!” she said with a smile, though her tone was tinged with worry. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

You shook your head, chuckling and offered her a small smile. “I’m so sorry, Kelly. Things have been so busy with me lately.”

Kelly’s brow furrowed slightly as she studied your face. “You look tired. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, it’s just a silly flu,” you said quickly, but the faint edge in your voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said gently. “Max and I found out about it already, about you and Lando.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “Oh.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked, expression softening. “We would’ve been there for you. You’ve been through this all alone.”

You sighed, your shoulders sagging. “I didn’t want to drag anyone else into the mess, and I didn’t even know what to say.”

Kelly’s voice grew firmer. “You didn’t have to say anything, we would’ve understood. Max is furious with Lando, you know. So is Carlos. I even have to break the two of them away from Lando.”

Your heart sank at the thought. “Please don’t be mad at him. It’s not worth it.”

Kelly shook her head, lips pressing into a thin line. “It is worth it. What Lando did to you was unforgivable. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured, though the words felt hollow. “I’ll move on, eventually.”

Kelly’s expression softened again, and she leaned closer to the camera. “I just wish you’d let us help you. You know we love you, right? You’ve always been family to us.”

“I know,” you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes.

Her face brightened slightly. “But speaking of family, someone’s been dying to talk to you!”

Before you could respond, the screen shifted, and Penelope’s little face appeared, her eyes lighting up when she saw you. “AUNTIE!” she exclaimed, voice high with excitement.

”Hi, P!” You said, heart aching at the sight of her.

“I miss you so much!” she said, pouting slightly. “When are you coming back? Mommy says you’re not in Monaco anymore.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain. “I miss you too, darling. I just…I had to be somewhere else for a while.”

“But you’ll come back, right?” she asked, her big eyes staring at you expectantly.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “We’ll see, P. For now, you have to be good for your mommy and Maxie, okay?”

“I’m always good!” she declared, puffing out her chest.

Kelly’s voice chimed in from the background. “That’s debatable,” she teased, earning a giggle from Penelope.

You couldn’t help but smile, even as your chest tightened. “You’re the best, P. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay!” she said brightly before turning to Kelly. “Mommy, can we call Auntie again tomorrow?”

Kelly returned to the screen, giving you a knowing look. “We’ll let her rest for now, P. But yes, we’ll call Auntie again soon.”

“Promise?” Penelope asked, her eyes wide.

“Promise,” Kelly said, smiling before turning back to you. “Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need anything, anything, just call me.”

You nodded. “Thank you so much, Kelly. I will.”

After ending your facetime call with Kelly, you stumbled into the bathroom, your stomach churning violently. The moment you stepped inside, you collapsed in front of the toilet, heaving uncontrollably. It felt as though your insides were twisting, every muscle tensing in protest. When it finally subsided, you shakily wiped your mouth, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You looked pale—paler than usual, and eyes were bloodshot from the strain.

It took you a couple of minutes to compose yourself before heading to the kitchen, hoping the water would help settle your spinning head. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, you poured the water, but as you lifted it to your lips, another wave of dizziness hit you. This time, it was stronger. Your grip faltered, and the glass slipped from your hand, shattering loudly as it hit the floor.

The sharp noise brought Noelle and Mike running into the kitchen. They froze when they saw you swaying on your feet, barely managing to stay upright. You blinked, trying to focus, but everything around you was growing hazier. Before you could say anything, your legs gave way beneath you, and you crumpled to the floor, your vision blackening as you began to lose consciousness. Noelle was by your side in an instant, her hands gentle but urgent as she checked your pulse.

“Don’t worry, she’s alive,” Noelle muttered, voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. “Mike, call an ambulance now!”

Mike didn’t hesitate, rushing to grab his phone and calling for help. You could hear Mike’s voice in the background, muffled and frantic as he spoke to the operator.

“Yes, we need an ambulance,” Mike said, tone clipped, almost too calm for the situation. “My sister-in-law collapsed, and we need help immediately.”

Noelle’s voice cut through your haze, trying to keep you steady. “Come on, stay with me, okay? Just hold on.”

You couldn’t respond, couldn’t even make a sound, but you could hear them both, voices blending with the rush of adrenaline in the air. Mike’s footsteps moved swiftly, his voice growing more distant as he spoke with the ambulance on the phone.

The minutes that followed felt like hours. The sound of the ambulance siren grew louder, and relief flooded Noelle’s face as the paramedics rushed into the house. They quickly assessed the situation, asking Noelle questions about your symptoms and recent health conditions.

“She’s been experiencing dizziness for weeks now,” Noelle explained. “She’s stubborn, didn’t want to see a doctor. This morning she was nauseous, and now she’s fainted.”

The paramedics nodded, lifting you onto the stretcher carefully. Noelle and Mike followed closely as they carried you out to the ambulance. “I’m coming with her to the hospital,” Noelle said firmly, climbing into the back of the ambulance without hesitation.

Mike stayed behind, watching the ambulance doors close with a worried expression. “Alright, I’ll be informing your mother when she arrives, but call me as soon as you know something,” he said to Noelle before they drove off.

Inside the ambulance, Noelle held your hand tightly, her fingers trembling against your own. “You’re going to be fine,” she said, though her voice was thick with concern. “Just breathe, okay? We’re almost there.”

You couldn’t focus on what Noelle was saying. The world had gone dark around you, only the pulse of your own heartbeat reminding you that you were still there, still fighting to stay conscious.

The steady beeping of the machines was the first thing you registered as you slowly opened your eyes, the sterile smell of the hospital room making everything feel surreal. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent light, your gaze landed on your sister, Noelle, sitting in one of the chairs beside your bed, her expression a mixture of worry and relief when she noticed you stirring.

“Noelle,” you croaked, voice hoarse from sleep and dryness.

She shot up almost instantly, coming to your side and helping you adjust into a sitting position in the hospital bed. Her hands were gentle but firm as she propped a pillow behind your back.

“Hey, take it easy, okay?” she said softly. She reached for a bottle of water on the bedside table, unscrewing the cap before handing it to you. “Here, drink up. Small sips.”

You followed her instructions, taking slow, careful sips, the cool water soothing your parched throat. “What happened? Why am I in the hospital?” you asked weakly, mind still foggy.

“You fainted in the kitchen,” Noelle explained, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You scared the hell out of us. Mike called the ambulance, and I came with you here. Mom and Mike are both on their way. They’ll be here soon.”

Before you could respond, there was a knock at the door, a doctor entered, her expression professional but kind. Noelle immediately stepped aside, letting her approach you.

“I’m glad that you’re awake now, my dear,” she began, smiling at you. “We’ve run some tests to determine the cause of your fainting and other symptoms.”

You nodded slowly, stomach churning with apprehension. Noelle moved closer to your side, her presence grounding you.

“We’ve reviewed your results,” she continued, glancing at her clipboard before meeting your eyes. “The dizziness, nausea, and vomiting you’ve been experiencing for the past weeks are all consistent with early pregnancy symptoms. Congratulations, you’re seven weeks pregnant!”

Pregnant. Pregnant.

For a moment, the words did not register. The hospital room seemed to grow impossibly still, the doctor’s voice fading into the background as you processed the news. Seven weeks. The timeline clicked into place, and your heart sank as realization hit. Seven weeks pregnant. You could hear the faint ringing in your ears, a sharp contrast to the quiet gasp from Noelle beside you.

“I…I’m sorry, what?” you managed to stammer, voice shaking.

“You’re pregnant, dear,” the doctor repeated gently. “Seven weeks along. Your vitals look good, but it’s important to start prenatal care as soon as possible. We’ve referred you to an OB-GYN who will guide you through the process and answer any questions you might have.”

You nodded numbly, unable to form any coherent response. The doctor continued to explain what you should expect in the coming weeks—dietary recommendations, plenty of rest, and the importance of regular check-ups. But her words felt very distant, as if you were hearing them through a fog.

When the doctor finally left, you were left staring blankly at the sterile white wall, the weight of the revelation crushing you. Seven weeks. You did the math in your head, mind racing. By now, you know that the woman Lando had gotten pregnant would be around three months into pregnancy.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, the enormity of the situation was starting to overwhelm you. You were carrying Lando’s child. That man had broken and shattered your heart into pieces, and who had chosen someone else, was now bound to you in a way that you could not escape.

“Noelle,” you whispered, voice breaking.

She knelt beside the bed, taking your trembling hands in hers. “I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m here, okay?” she said softly, her tone steady and reassuring.

“I don’t know what to do,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. How am I supposed to handle this?”

Noelle’s grip on your hands tightened slightly, eyes full of concern. “I don’t have all the answers,” she admitted, “but you don’t have to go through this alone. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be here for you—Mom and Mike, too. We’ll all figure this out together, okay?”

Two years had already passed, and your life was a world away from where it had been. Astrid, your little ray of sunshine, was turning two today. She was the center of your universe, your whole life, her giggles filling every corner of the house you had worked so hard to call your own. It was a beautiful home, just three doors away from your mother’s home, ensuring that Astrid was always surrounded by the love and warmth of your family.

Noelle and Mike, ever the doting aunt and uncle, spoiled her endlessly. They brought over toys, books, and clothes—sometimes more than you thought Astrid needed, but you couldn’t deny the happiness on Astrid’s face when they arrived with surprise in hand.

It’s true that your pregnancy and the early days of motherhood had not been easy, but you were able to survive. More than that, you thrived. With a promotion to a top position at work and a comfortable life for you and Astrid, you finally felt at peace. The past—Lando, was no longer a wound, but now a distant memory you had learned to accept. Your family also had long stopped asking questions about the details of your breakup, and while they knew Lando was Astrid’s father, they never dwelled on it. Astrid had all the love she needed, and that was what mattered most.

But there was one part of your life you had not reconciled yet—Max and Kelly. Despite keeping in touch with Kelly through regular facetime calls, you had managed to keep Astrid a secret. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, it was just too complicated to explain everything. It was already enough that they found out what Lando had done that caused your breakup.

However, when Kelly had mentioned that they would be spending their vacation in your home country and would be arriving the day before Astrid’s second birthday, you had a window of opportunity. It was time to take a step forward. So you had invited them to what you described as a simple gathering at your home. You didn’t explicitly tell them that it would be Astrid’s birthday party—just that it would be a chance to catch up and spend time together.

As the day drew closer, you found yourself torn between excitement and anxiety. What would they say when they realized the gathering that you had talked about was actually a celebration for your daughter? Would they feel hurt that you had kept Astrid a secret for so long?

These thoughts lingered as you finalized the decorations, baked Astrid’s favorite cake, and prepared the house for your guests. But when you looked at Astrid, happily playing with her toys in the living room, the doubt began to fade. This was your life now—a life filled with love and laughter, even if it was different from what you had once imagined.

The backyard was a colorful dream, adorned with streamers, balloons, and a banner that read, Happy 2nd Birthday! and Astrid’s favorite colors painted every corner of the space, and the laughter of children filled the air as they played games and ran around laughing. Astrid herself was the picture of happiness, twirling in her pretty dress, a bright smile on her face as she clung to her grandmother’s hand.

You excused yourself from the backyard, your hands brushing against your dress nervously as you stepped back into the kitchen to double-check the desserts. Rows of cupcakes sat neatly on the counter, each one topped with swirls of frosting and sprinkles. You picked one up, turning it slightly to make sure everything was perfect. Then the doorbell rang.

Your heart skipped a beat, a wave of nerves rushing through you. It had to be Max, Kelly, and Penelope. You wiped your hands on a towel, took a deep breath, and walked to the front door, steadying yourself before opening it. The moment you opened the door, cheerful shouts of ‘surprise!’ had greeted you. Kelly was the first to throw her arms around you, pulling you into a warm hug.

“It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed, stepping back as Max swooped in for a hug.

“You’ve been hiding!” Max teased lightly, squeezing your shoulder before stepping aside to let Penelope in.

“Hi Auntie!” Penelope chirped, small arms wrapping tightly around your waist as she hugged you with all her might.

You bent down to her level, pulling her into a proper hug. “Hi, darling. I missed you so much!”

Penelope pulled back, her face beaming. “I missed you too, Auntie! Can I see your house?”

Before you could respond, the sound of children’s laughter drifted in from the backyard, catching their attention. Kelly tilted her head curiously.

“What’s going on back there?” she asked, brows furrowed. “That sounds like a lot of kids.”

Max glanced at you, an eyebrow raised. “Is this the simple gathering you mentioned?”

A nervous smile tugged at your lips as you stepped back, gesturing for them to follow. “Come on, follow me.”

You led them through the hallway and out through the glass doors that lead to the backyard, where the yard was buzzing with activity. Children were playing games, some of them are having the time of their life on the bouncy castle, parents chatted near the tables of food, and Astrid was in the middle of it all, her laughter carrying above the noise.

Penelope gasped in delight. “Can I please go play?” she asked, bouncing on her toes as she looked up at Max and Kelly.

Kelly nodded with a smile. “Of course, go ahead.”

Penelope dashed off, her excitement blending seamlessly with the other children. Kelly and Max, however, stood frozen, their eyes scanning the scene. It wasn’t long before they realized that this was not just any gathering.

“Is this…” Kelly began, voice trailing off.

“A birthday party?” Max finished for her, tone laced with confusion.

You nodded slowly, your smile nervous. “Yes. Actually,” you glanced at Astrid, who was now in your mother’s arms, laughing as your mother tickled her sides. “It’s her birthday party.”

Their confusion deepened as they followed your gaze. Max opened his mouth to speak, but Kelly beat him to it. “Her?” she asked, voice soft, almost uncertain.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over to your mother and gently took Astrid from her arms. Astrid immediately snuggled into your shoulder, her tiny hands clutching at your dress as she peeked at the newcomers. Turning back to Max and Kelly, you smiled, though your heart was racing.

“Guys, this is Astrid,” you said softly. “My daughter.”

For a moment, there was only silence as Max and Kelly processed your words. Kelly’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide, while Max stared at you, his expression a mix of shock and something deeper.

“You have a daughter?” Kelly finally asked, voice trembling slightly.

You nodded, holding Astrid a little tighter. “I do.”

Max’s voice was careful, almost cautious. “Where’s her father?”

The question hung heavy in the air, heavy and unspoken truths lingering just beneath the surface. You looked down at Astrid, avoiding Max’s gaze as you shifted your weight uncomfortably.

“He’s…not in the picture anymore,” you said quietly.

Max’s eyes narrowed slightly, jaw tightening. It was clear he had pieced everything together, but decided not to press further. Instead, his gaze softened as he looked at Astrid, who was now peering curiously at him. Kelly stepped forward, her initial shock melting into warmth.

“Can I hold her?” she asked gently.

You nodded, carefully handing Astrid over. Kelly cradled her as if she had been waiting for this moment forever, her face lighting up as Astrid stared at her with wide, curious eyes.

“She’s so beautiful,” Kelly murmured, voice thick with emotion.

Max crouched down slightly to Astrid’s level, his serious expression softening. “Hey there, little one,” he said, playfully covering his eyes with his hands and then revealing them. “Peekaboo!”

Astrid blinked at him, tiny lips began curling into a smile as Max covered his face with his hand again and revealed it with a loud ‘boo!’ Astrid’s laughter was immediate and infectious, filling the air and making Max grin wider.

“She likes you,” Kelly said with a laugh, glancing at Max as she bounced Astrid gently.

Max looked up, his expression a mix of amusement and something more tender. “What can I say? Kids love me.”

Penelope had run up to you with little Astrid in tow, face glowing with excitement. “Auntie, can Astrid play with me? I promise that I’ll take care of her,” she said, her little hands clasped together as she gave you the most earnest look.

You smiled, crouching down to their level. “Alright,” you said gently, brushing a strand of hair out of Astrid’s face. “But remember, she’s still very small, so be careful with her, okay?”

“I promise!” Penelope chirped. “Come on Astrid, let’s play!” she took Astrid’s hand and led her back towards the group of children.

Once they were settled, you turned to Max and Kelly, who were waiting nearby, their expressions a mix of curiosity and seriousness. You gestured towards the patio table, and the three of you moved to sit down. For a brief moment, there was an awkward silence, only broken by the distant sound of children laughing.

It was Max who spoke first. “So,” he began, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “are you going to tell Lando about Astrid?”

“No.” you said firmly, meeting his gaze.

Kelly’s brows furrowed. “No?” she repeated, voice a mix of confusion and concern. “You don’t plan on telling him that he has a daughter?”

“Telling him that he has a daughter is not included in my plans,” you said quietly, glancing briefly at Astrid, who was now sitting on the grass with Penelope, giggling as they played.

Max exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “But why?” he asked, voice steady but tinged with disbelief. “Don’t you think he has the right to know?”

You looked at Max, expression calm but resolute. “He had already made his choice and I made mine,” you said softly. “By the time I found out that I was pregnant, he was already committed to building a life with someone else—for their child. I’m not that ignorant, I’ve seen the articles, Max. It’s clear as daylight that he’s happy with them, he’s being the father that the child needs.”

Max sighed. “This isn’t about the articles or public perception. It’s about Astrid. She has the right to know who her father is, and Lando has a right to know about her.”

Kelly nodded in agreement with what had Max just said. “And what happens when she grows up and starts asking questions?”

“I’ll tell Astrid,” you said. “I’ll tell her when the time is right, I’ll explain everything to her. But for now, I’m protecting her. I don’t want her to feel like she was a second thought or an obligation. I don’t want to make her feel unwanted.”

Max shook his head slightly. “It’s not fair to Astrid, or to Lando,” he said, voice low. “He deserves to know. He deserves the chance to be a part of her life.”

“And what if Lando doesn’t want to be a part of her life, Max?” you said, voice cracking slightly and gripping the edge of the table. “What if yes, I ended up telling him, and he rejected her? What if I ruin the good thing he has now, for nothing? I’m not going to be the person who will bring chaos to my daughter’s life by trying to force something that might not even work, and I most definitely won't be the one who will tear Lando’s life apart just to ease my conscience.”

Kelly reached out, placing a hand gently on yours. “I understand that you’re scared,” she said softly. “And I understand why you’ve made your choice. But you don’t have to do this alone. Whatever you decide, we’ll support you. But please, just think about it, okay?”

You nodded, though you knew that your decision was firm and wouldn’t change. “Thank you,” you said quietly, looking between Max and Kelly. “I just need you both to trust me on this one. Trust that I’m doing what’s best for Astrid.”

Max hesitated, then finally nodded. “We’ll be keeping this just between the three of us,” he said, though there was a note of reluctance in his voice. “But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find us.”

Kelly smiled faintly, her grip on your hand tightening briefly before she let go. “Astrid is lucky to have you as her mother,” she said, voice warm. “She’s amazing and gorgeous, you know. She’s already so full of life.”

You smiled softly at Kelly’s words. “She is,” you said. “She really is.”

Glancing back towards the yard, you watched Astrid and Penelope play together, the sound of Astrid’s uncontrollable laughter filled the air, warming your heart in a way that words could never even describe. Her happiness was infectious, an important reminder of everything good in your life despite the path it had taken to get where you are now. But as your eyes lingered on her, there was a familiar ache that settled deep in your chest.

You couldn’t deny it—Astrid’s features were very unmistakable. Her eyes, so full of wonder and innocence, were a mirror image of Lando’s. Every now and then, when she turned her head a certain way or smiled just so, it was like seeing a glimpse of Lando again. The resemblance was undeniable, and it only grew stronger as Astrid got older. It was a bittersweet reality you carried with you every day.

Yet, despite the pain that came with those reminders, you were happy. Truly, deeply happy. Astrid was surrounded by love—a love so abundant that it filled every corner of her little world. She didn’t need anything else, not when you, your whole family, and everyone who cherished her. That love was enough, it had to be enough.

Letting Lando go was not easy. It had taken every ounce of strength you had to accept that the life you once imagined with him was not meant to be. But you had done it, you had learned to let him go. You had made peace with the fact that you were not the one he chose, and the woman you would never be was the one who was not his.

Someday, you knew, the time might come when you were ready to tell Lando about Astrid, ready to introduce him to the child you both brought into this world. But that day was not today. For now, you would let him continue living the life he had chosen, with the person he had chosen. You wished him nothing but happiness, even if it wasn’t with you.

You also hoped that Lando would one day find everything he was searching for, that he would feel fulfilled and content in the life he was building. Even if it hurts, you wanted that for him, and while he was busy living that life, the daughter you both would not raise together would still be here—waiting for him, even if he didn’t know it yet.

The breakup, heartache, and the choices you made were not what you had wanted, but they were what you needed. Sometimes, it’s hard to accept the fact that love is not enough to keep two people together, and that’s okay. It didn’t make the love you once shared with Lando any less real.

But for now, everything else could wait.

2K notes · View notes

allllium · 2 months ago

Text

Just a Bit of Fun

[ Jack Abbot x Reader ]

~ Fluff, WC: 3749

~ Prequel: The Guy at The Bar

~ Mostly gender neutral but there is a section using female pronouns, pls let me know if you want another version with other pronouns

-------------- banner coming soon -------------

- Reader is keeping a big secret from Dana, accidentally.

Fortunately, the ER today has been pretty slow. Not that you'll say out loud but only a couple people are left out in chairs. You're struggling to get a snack out of the vending machine. Everyone knows this one is a money thief but it's the only one with your favorite snack.

While you're distracted, Dana uses it as an opportunity to talk to Robby about her newest issue within the ER. It's not a real issue at all, but no one dares to say it to her face.

"Call me old school, but I don't understand it." She says, just directly out of your earshot.

"Well-" He begins, but obviously Dana cuts him off quick.

"Don't you call me anything with the word old in it."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it." Robby chuckles. "I don't get it either but it's not any of our business." He knows exactly what she's talking about. It's the only thing he's heard from her in a couple days now.

"Of course it is. This is my ER, all of its my business." He doesn't contridict that it's her ER, but he can't stop his grin at her dramatics.

"Stop being a gossip." He lectures her as usual. Of course it's not her fault, she gets bored.

"Hey, you want to know too. Don't even deny it."

"Obviously I want to know but I'm not gonna sneak around behind their backs." That and he knows more than he'll let Dana see. She'll have his head on a silver platter if she finds out you told him before her.

"What are we gossiping about?" You whisper from behind them. Not meaning to sneak up on them but they were standing right in your path.

"You're just as bad as Dana." Robby rolls his eyes at you. He does that a lot.

"Don't be talking shit out in the open if you don't want me to be curious." You tell him in a lecturing tone. "That's on you, Buddy."

"We were not talking shit." He hates when you call him buddy, that's why you do it. Robby isn't usually one to talk shit but on a few occasions you've caught it happening.

"Uh huh, quick defense there." You smile at his dramatic huff. Once you get to him, he's not nearly as intimidating. Now you can poke fun at him all you want.

He doesn't grace with you a verbal response before giving up and walking away.

"He's no fun." Dana mutters under her breath. You look over in her direction, forgetting she was there for a moment. You should know better, she's always there.

"That's okay, we're fun enough for him too." You walk around the counter to sit down and take a breath for a moment, while you can.

"What are you doing here, kid? I barely ever see you in the daylight." She takes a seat in the chair next to you.

"Filling in for Collins. Robby asked me to while she's on vacation. Night shift will do without me for a bit." You fidget by moving back and forth in the chair. You and Collins have bonded a lot through the years. The nature of her vacation isn't a happy one.

"I don't know." She immediately disagrees. "Abbot might fall apart without you by his side."

You can see the mischievous smile forming.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You turn quickly to face her head on.

"You know what I mean, I never see one of you without the other."

"He's not here right now is he? Besides we work different days a lot."

"Not if it's up to the two of you." She shrugs with a laugh.

"We work well together." You deflect in disbelief. What is she getting at right now?

"I bet you'd be good at a lot of other things together too." She keeps her head down as she says it, you know she's struggling to get the words out through her laugh.

"Dana it is way too early in the morning for you to be saying stuff like that." You tell her in astonishment. "Have you no shame?"

It takes her a full moment to stop laughing at her own words. You get the urge to walk away but you know she'd chase you down.

"I'm just saying, you two would be good together."

"Dana. You can't be encouraging me to have sex with my boss."

"Why not? It's never hurt nobody."

"I am walking away from this conversation right now."

"C'mon, hon, just live a little." She calls after you.

You shake your head harshly as you walk away and her laugh echos through the hall.

You know neither you nor Jack have actually told anyone other than Robby that your together, but you didn't think she would still be this oblivious.

You can't explain why you played along instead of coming out with the truth. At this point, you might as well have fun with it.

The next day, Dana seems to be just as determined to get answers as the last. Your reactions to her teasing certainly didn't help.

"I don't see what the big deal is." You and Dana are sitting in the lounge, trying to eat lunch while there's not too much work to be done. Knock on wood this next couple days will follow a similar pattern. "We work together so what? You and Robby work together all the time and I'm not pushing you two into each other." She immediately gives you a look of disgust.

"Don't even try that, it's different and you know that. Robby and I don't look at each other the way you guys do."

"We don't look at each other like anything other than good coworkers." You tell her confidently, perhaps taking the joke too far. Honestly if she hasn't figured it out by now, that's on her.

"You are so full of shit."

"I think the older you get, the crazier you get too."

"Did you seriously just call me old and crazy in the same sentence?"

"Hey I just call it like I see it." You raise your hands in a joking defense.

"Abbot's a good looking guy, I know you see that." She wiggles her eyebrows at you.

"Well I'm not gonna deny that."

"So why not take the chance? It doesn't have to be anything serious."

"I like things how they are." You shrug and pay more attention to your food than necessary.

Whatever she's about to say next is cut off by McKay running in.

You're not paying attention to anything they're saying but Dana rushes out quickly and leaves McKay standing in the doorway. Robby probably needed her help with something.

"Are you fucking with her?" Mckay laughs as she looks at you curiously.

"So I'm guessing you know?"

"You guys are very obvious. Has she not gotten it yet?" You get up to throw away your lunch trash while she talks.

"Apparently not. I guess she figured I was single and Robby didn't tell her otherwise." You shrug and walk with McKay through the hall.

"Strange considering he's such a gossip."

"That's what I'm saying!"

"Oh that's a really pretty ring." You're standing by your locker when Dana appears. It's day three of her pushing for answers and one of those rare times where you get off on time.

"Huh." You look down and see the ring Dana is referring to. It's on a chain around your neck that must've come out while leaning over so much throughout the day. "Oh thanks, I didn't realize it was out." You quickly tuck it back into your shirt, before Dana asks too many questions.

"What kind of stone is that? It doesn't look like diamond." Of course she's gonna ask a lot of questions.

"Oh it's not, I can never remember the exact name of this one but I'm not a huge fan of diamonds." You explain while grabbing your other clothes out so you can get home as quick as possible.

"Why do you wear it on a necklace?" She asks in a knowing manner.

"Cause' knowing this place it would get lost or ruined otherwise. I'd do it with my other ones too but I wear a million of them." No lie in that statement.

"So why wear it instead of keeping it with the rest?"

"It's my favorite. I just like having it so close to me." Also not a lie.

"That makes sense, it is really pretty." She turns to pull stuff out of her own locker.

"Thanks. Uh, you have any plans after this?" You try to change the topic as casual as possible.

"Lots of sleep hopefully."

"I think that's all we can hope for at this point." You also want to go home and sleep. Especially because the house will be empty all night.

"Sleep well kid."

"See you bright and early." As soon as you're changed, you walk out and leave Dana to herself.

You give a quick goodbye to Robby, who of course hasn't even gotten close to finishing up yet. And then make your way outside when you're greeted with a familiar face.

"How was it today?" He asks from his position leaning against the wall.

"Not to bad. I think you should have okay night." You smile at him which shows off just how tired you are.

"I hope so."

"Well, I guess I'll see you in the morning." You say with a saddened tone.

"Goodnight Dr. Abbot." He pulls you in for a swift hug.

"Goodnight- or goodmorning, Dr. Abbot. Whatever it is to you right now."

"Go home and sleep, you need it."

"Sounds good to me." You pull away from him and both go your separate ways.

"I can't believe it." Dana exclaims just moments after you left. She immediately found Robby to talk to about what she just saw.

"What are you on about now?" He sighs as he always does when putting up with the gossips in the ER, especially Dana's.

"She was wearing an engagement ring, oh how did we miss this?" She seems personally offended by this piece of information.

Robby tries as hard as he can to hide his grin. He didn't miss anything, but again, Dana would have his head if she knew.

"That's why she's been so put off by the idea of going out with Abbot."

"Maybe she's just not interested in him. She wears a lot of rings that could pass as engagement rings. You probably just saw it wrong." He tries to offer a reasonable solution. One that doesn't make her even more invested in your romance life.

"No, it was different than the other ones. And she was wearing all day under her shirt. People don't do that with any old ring." She follows behind him as he walks around trying to finish off his work for the night.

"Why didn't you just ask her about it? She has no reason to lie." He comes to your defense.

"I did! Discreetly but the point still stood. She just said it was her favorite." She comes off even more exasperated than before.

"And you don't believe her because?"

"She is not good at coming up with excuses, I can always tell when she's trying to come up with something on the spot."

"Dana, please take this advice I'm about to give you seriously. Calm down a little bit. If she's hiding something it's for a good reason."

"What reason would be good enough to not tell me?"

"Ask her." He practically begs.

She gasps suddenly, "Maybe Abbot knows."

For the ten millionth time that day, Robby rolls his eyes.

"She knows." You resign as he walks in the door.

"Who knows what?" You hear him move around the living room as he puts everything down from the night.

"Dana. I don't know what she knows but it's something."

"Okay? And this is an issue because?" He walks into the kitchen to greet you as he talks.

"You're the one that insisted on hiding this." You lean into him as he puts his arms around your waist.

"At first. If you want to tell Dana go ahead."

"I can't! It would be weird now. It's been years at this point." He chuckles from behind you.

"I don't think it's a big deal."

"So says you. You work the night shift, you don't deal with Dana's craziness like I do."

"You'll be back on night shift soon enough."

"Oh honey, it's funny you think that'll stop her."

He let's go of you to grab something to eat.

"I know it won't. But I'm not the one dealing with it."

"Be nice to me, Jack. I'm struggling here." You're being totally dramatic about it but oh well at this point.

"How dare she care about your life outside of work." He says blankly as he focuses on finding food.

"You're not gonna find anything in there, we need to go shopping."

He shuts the cupboard and focuses more on you. "I think I'll bring you lunch later."

"Honey, you need to sleep longer than a couple hours."

He rolls his eyes, "No I don't."

You head to the living room to grab the rest of your stuff for your shift.

"You don't need to bring me lunch, I'll get something." He follows you into the room and sits down on the couch.

"It might help with your Dana issue."

"Shes gonna hurt me, isn't she? She's a lot stronger than she looks "

"Most likely."

"Good to see how concerned you are."

"I try my best." You laugh at his words and finish grabbing your stuff before pausing for a moment.

"Wait a minute, why are you here so early. You're shift isn't over yet?"

He glances up at you for a second before looking back at the TV.

"Did you clock out early so you wouldn't overlap with Dana coming in?"

"Of course not."

You burst out laughing. He gives you an unimpressed stare.

"Okay sweetie, whatever you say." It's hard to believe this is the most intimidating guy in the ER. "If she wants to get you, she will."

You let out an embarrassing yelp as Dana quickly grabs your arm and pulls you into the empty on call room.

"Was that really necessary?" You exclaim while she shuts the door behind you both.

"Yes, I want the truth." She crosses her arms over her chest and stares at you pointedly.

"Don't we all." You sigh dramatically.

"Seriously, kid. Who gave you that ring? I know it's an engagement ring. I looked it up." You roll your eyes at her. Of course she's still on this.

"I didn't know you knew how to do that." You mumble under your breath and throw your arms across your chest.

"Don't sass me or I'll tell everyone."

"Tell them what? You don't know anything." She squints her eyes as she thinks of what to say next.

"I'm going figure it out. We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"Dana, I'm not scared of you."

"Yes you are."

"I spend every night working with Abbot. You are not on his level of intimidation." You shake your head with a smile at her reaction to this whole situation.

You're not entirely sure why this is something she's so determined to figure out but it fills your day with a tiny bit of entertainment.

"Just tell me." She demands, staring into your soul.

"Okay fine, I'm married alright. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Her face shows a mixture of confusion and happiness. Clearly she's glad to finally have a good answer.

"To who??"

"I have already given you more than enough." You brush her off and begin to leave the room she pulled you into.

"You're seriously not gonna tell me?

"I am seriously not gonna tell you."

"Wait, how long have you been hiding this?" She opens her mouth in shock.

"I haven't been hiding anything, you never asked. But it's been about three years now."

"You've only been here for two years. No wonder you've been so weird about Jack." She mutters to herself like she's finally putting the pieces together.

"Next time you won't assume I'm single will you?"

"No I will not." She laughs.

You walk off assuming that's the end of this particular conversation. You're not that lucky.

"So how does your husband feel about your relationship with Abbot?" She sounds very concerned. How the fuck is she not getting it right now?

"Well honestly he's not super fond of him." Why do you continue to make things harder for yourself. This would all be over if you didn't listen to Jack in the first place.

You know he was right to suggest it at first. Coming to work in a new place is hard enough without people knowing you're married to your new boss.

You really thought people would figure it out by now. But of course people never wanted to accuse either of you of anything, so they keep conversations quiet and didn't ask any questions loud enough for you to hear.

"I wonder why?" She asks sarcastically. She clearly sees something between you and Jack. What will it take for her to see what that something is?

"You are officially on my shit list!" Dana yells from down the hall.

"Oh yay." You whisper sarcastically. "What'd I do now?" You call back down to her.

"Someone is here to see you." She smiles scarily and pulls you by the arm for the second time today.

"Oh is my food here?" You're excited to finally eat and see Jack during the day. Although he's gonna get a very big earful about the importance of enough sleep, especially with a job as grueling as this.

"Yeah and you'll never believe who brought it to you." Sarcasm drips from her voice.

"The magic food fairy?" She's not impressed. You think it sums him up pretty well.

"Abbot. Dr. Jack Abbot. The man who worked all night and should be sleeping all day is instead here bringing you food. Why is that?"

"Do you need to sit for a minute? You seem a little worked up."

"I do not need to sit, I need to hear the explanation you two have been hiding from me." You accidentally let out a small chuckle at her antics. You don't know why this means so much to her.

"Why do you need an explanation for me to get my lunch?"

"First you hide your marriage-" You interrupt her quickly.

"I didn't hide anything."

"Then you admit your husband isn't real fond of Jack."

"Oh honey, you're getting so close." Will this be the moment she finally puts all the pieces together?

You look up to see Jack standing at the nurses station, smiling softly at you as you walk up. It's not big enough for most people to notice. Dana clearly, is not most people.

She stops walking, causing you to slightly bump into her back.

She turns around slowly to face you.

"Surprise?" You reveal, hoping she's finally figured out what's going on.

While she stands in her surprise, you walk over to your husband.

"I told you not to do this." You immediately reprimand him.

"Dana's glaring daggers at the back of your head." Is his simple response.

"Oh let her. She's having some big feelings and you don't get to change the subject that easily." You grab your food out of his hands.

"We haven't seen each other as much lately. Can't I do something nice?" He asks innocently.

"Don't act like you didn't want to see Dana's reaction." You place the food on the counter next to you so you can cross your arms over your chest. It's your power stance.

"What can I say? Karma for being a gossip."

You laugh aloud. "Says you! You listen to everything the nurses talk about and ask me about it later."

"That's not the same." You scoff at his denial.

"Uh huh, whatever you have to tell yourself sweetie." You smile widely at him. Suddenly feelings just how much you've missed him over these last couple days. "Go home and sleep. It's my last day on day shift for now."

"Good. Night shift goes a lot smoother when you're there."

"Aww are you saying you missed me?" You take a step closer to him and his awkwardness.

"No." What a motherfucker.

"Oh I see how it is." You feel Dana's presence come up beside you. "Get some good sleep so we can spend time together without you being such a grump."

"I am never a grump." He defends, his lip curling up just a smudge.

"Wow you're just full of jokes tonight, I see." He gives you a kiss on your head to hide his smile in your hair.

"Have a good shift." He tells you and gives a small nod to Dana before walking out the door.

"So? Figure it out yet?"

"How in the hell did I not know this?" She exclaims softly almost like she's saying it to herself.

"You never asked. No one did." You shrug with a chuckle.

"How long have you been together? He never mentioned anything." She plops down in a chair to continue the conversation.

"He's protective. He thought it would make things harder if people knew I was married to my new boss." You sit in chair next to her. You look around and see all the other doctors currently occupied.

"So as long as you've been here?" She chuckles quietly realizing all she missed over the years.

"Married for three years, together for six. We met at a bar when he was drinking in his sorrows." You remember the memory fondly. "I was gonna tell you when I realized you didn't know, but for some reason it didn't come out."

She laughs loudly at that. Loud enough that a patient to the left gave her a weird look.

"That makes sense. I'm just glad you're not having some weird affair with Jack."

"It's not an affair but it's definitely weird."

"Ha! Eat your lunch kid. I'm gonna hound you for details later." She stands up and gives you a pat on the shoulder.

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

~ low-key wanna write about how they met 🤔

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the-kr8tor · 6 months ago

Text

She Chose Me

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Synopsis: Ekko asks you to help him pierce his ear, but it leads to something unexpected.

Word count: 2.2k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), established relationship, childhood friends to lovers (speed run edition), lovestruck! Ekko, spoilers for season 2, CW blood mention, fluff.

@yumeaoka-chan -- I combined your prompt (using z-drive after R confesses) with this one I hope it's okay! If not I can still do your request 🫶

Navigation

“Stop moving, Ekko.” Your hands pause on his ear lobe, the needle in between your index and thumb shakes slightly from trepidation.

“I'm not.” He says, brows pinched together, nose scrunched up in front of the cracked hand mirror he's holding.

“Yes, you are. You're fidgeting.” Leaning down, knee pressed on the side of his thigh whilst he's sitting down on a tiny stool. Chin laying atop his shoulder, you stare at him through the mirror. “Just breathe, boss man.” He huffs at the nickname, the small smile on his lips betraying the annoyed huff.

Ekko seems confident in his seat, brown eyes steady, breathing stable and his hands don't tremble despite the looming danger he's about to face. Danger you're about to face.

The tree house is brightly lit with the warm lamp illuminating directly at him and you. But the air around you sits heavy with worry and fear for what's to come. He may seem fine on the outside, but he's frozen with fear inside. His stomach feels like it's about to flip at any moment, breath heavy inside his throat, and heart pounding with every second it ticks by. He's afraid, deadly afraid. But he won't let it show, especially to you. And yet, you know. You can see it in how his eyes dart back and forth from the clock ticking in the corner, then over to the reflection of your face. You've known him for a long time, ever since you grew up with him on the same streets.

Familiarity comes with it, affection dragged alongside the familiarity.

“I'll just do it myself.” Twisting around in his seat, stool squeaking, he tries to grab the clean needle from you. He fails when you move it away from his reach. “C’mon, if you don't want to do it, I'll do it.”

“Too late for that. Besides, I already disinfected it.” You tilt your head with the same look you give him whenever you catch him lying. Surrendering, he drops his hand to his lap.

“Then why are you hesitating?” His eyes narrow at you, trying to ignore how his jacket looks good on you. “Do you still not believe me that it'll look good?”

“No, I believe you.” You click your tongue, pushing the swivel stool so that his back is turned away from you. He rolls his eyes at your indignation. “I know you'll look good with anything, Ekko.” Lifting up the mirror with your hand wrapped gently around his wrist, you can see yourself in the mirror again, and how his eyes avoid your own. He doesn't flinch from the contact, he languishes in it. “It’s just that— your timing is a bit off.”

You've iced his bruises, lovingly painted on his face with the same hourglass shape almost everyday, it's only natural that you'd pierce his ear too. Despite your initial protest.

“No time like the present.” Ekko glances at your reflection, your eyes boring into the side of his head with worry. For a second, he contemplates whether or not he should tell you what happened in the alternate universe. But he thinks it's better off telling you about his feelings for you rather than explain what he experienced. One day he'll tell you, but for now he focuses on winning the war so that day would come. It's easier to explain that he's been in love with you for the past seven or so years. But he won't actually do it now, right?

“I thought about it, Y/N. I'm sure.”

Smiling, you take his chin gently in your hand, making him face the mirror and in turn face you. “I know you don't do anything half assed.” Flicking your eyes at his hair, you smile wider, “I mean, that hair?” You whistle lowly. “You look fucking dapper, more than ready to take on the whole noxian army.”

Ekko swallows thickly, hands clammy, and the mirror in danger of slipping from his grip. “Thanks.” Inhaling, he hides his flustered self effortlessly. He's experienced in that area after years of doing it. He clears his throat. “Can you please just do it?”

“Of course.” You lean away, assuming the previous position of you holding the needle at his earlobe. He can't ignore how warm your hands are, or how your eyes trace the slope of his face with a sneaky look. “When you stop squirming that is.”

With a roll of his eyes, Ekko swiftly twists the seat to face you once again. The sudden momentum has you almost falling backwards, if not for his hands holding and catching you in place, you would've fallen flat on your back. You notice his warm hands on your bare waist, cropped shirt leaving your skin naked and in full display for him.

You thought that he would pull back from the contact and how you look at him with wild eyes, but within a second, he pulls you in, standing you in between his legs. Placing your hand on his shoulders, and the other accidentally on his bare stomach, you're careful not to poke him with the needle. Your eyes never left his, and his own never left the comfort of your stare.

“I don't…” His eyes stare intently, hands squeezing the dip of your hips. “...Squirm.”

Your skin is aflame, goosebumps spreading like wildfire all over you. “N–No, you don't.” You feel like a puddle, and he's ready to soak you right up.

He nods once, taking your wrist and placing the needle to graze at the shell of his ear. “Glad we could finally agree.”

Cupping his cheek with your free hand, you sigh. “I'm worried about you, Ekko.”

“Is that why you're stalling?” He asks, leaning against your hand as he stares up at you with soft eyes.

“That, and I've only pierced ears thrice in my life. Two for me, one for Scar.” Chuckling, you brush your thumb right under his tired eyes. There's a shine on those eyes you love so much, something akin to hope. You know he saw something in those months he was gone. He isn't ready yet to tell you, but you're willing to wait and stick around just for him. He doesn't even need to tell you anything, he's already here back with you and that's enough. “I–I don't know what's gonna happen out there. I know not getting injured is out of the question, but please, I still want to tell you to be careful.”

His vision flashes back to you in the other universe, where your eyes aren't permanently etched with fatigue, lips forever pressed together in a smile. She was you, and her lips were on his own for a moment. But he knows you and her aren't the same person. Both were born and raised in Zaun, but lived in two different circumstances.

And yet, both chose to be with him.

“Ekko?” With your voice calling him, he blinks and your face greets him back, the same face he grew up with, the same face he loved throughout the years. “I won't pierce your ear until you promise me.”

“I love you.” He blurts out, but not lacking sincerity.

You chuckle, needle almost slipping from your fingers. “You do?”

“Yeah, figured, why the hell not?” His nonchalance helps hide his apprehension.

“Is this your way of making me pierce your ears?” You say through the unshed tears.

Ekko raises a brow, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile. “You're stalling again.”

“This time I'm not.” Sitting down on his lap to level with him, he graciously lets you with his hand pushing on your waist so you could be closer to him. His hands never left your body, holding you in place. Cupping his cheeks, you pull him closer to your waiting lips. “I was just taking the time to simmer in your confession. Scar owes me lunch.”

“You bet on—? Shut up about Scar—” with a soft push against the small of your back, he meets halfway with you. Finally sealing your lips with a much awaited kiss.

Ekko hums against you, the sound reverberating from your lips down to your chest, filling it with warmth. He holds you flush against him. Chest to chest, arms holding you impossibly closer. The sound of your lips in sync with his echoes around the small room. Eyes closed, you memorize how he feels on you, how his breath stutters against you, and how his eyes fluttered closed the second you kissed him back with the same softness and fervent.

His hands slither across your back until he blindly reaches for the back of your neck, pulling you closer, angling your face to better kiss you fully. It's the first kiss out of many, sloppy, smiling in between, teeth still clashing together, and nose knocking against one another, but it still has you breathless in his arms.

“Ekko.” You whisper, leaning slightly away to intake air back into your lungs. “I love you too. Have been since you accidentally knocked me unconscious with a wrench.”

He blinks, hand moving away from you to pull at the rope on his z-drive. The world goes back a few seconds with you locking lips with him, heaving in place, hands balled around his hair.

“I love you too. Have been since you accidentally knocked me unconscious with a wrench.”

He beams at you, pulling and releasing the rope back to reverse time once more to hear the words he has only heard in his dreams.

You pull back away from him, lips obviously kissed. “I love you too. Have been since you accidentally knocked me unconscious with a wrench.”

Ekko chuckles, placing his forehead atop yours to breathe you in. You giggle, releasing his hair to slide your hands down and move towards his chest to feel his beating heart against your palms.

“Sorry, just wanted to hear you say it again. You fell for me because of that?”

Your brows furrow at his peculiar words. Eyes moving at his hand that's still clutching the rope, you laugh. “You could've just asked me to say it again. The wrench probably knocked something loose.” You joke, still panting from the kiss.

Leaning away, his knuckles brush along your jaw then down to your lips where he wipes the sheen with his thumb. “And I wanted to kiss you again.”

“You should've said so.” Your eyes are practically shaped like hearts. “Pucker up, Ekko.”

He smiles, closing the distance once again. The kiss was much more familiar this time, soft and gentle, savouring every second of it. Your nose still nudges his own, but it's intentional this time. He still smiles during the kiss, but it's because you do too. Once he reluctantly moves away to inhale, you grab his face, pecking all over his cheek, chin, nose and forehead, until there's no space that's left unkissed. You pull away, and he does the same, lips smacking carefully against the tip of your nose, in between your eyes, and cheekbones, until you're a giggling mess in his arms.

Ekko looks at you with a lopsided smile, giddiness etched on his ecstatic expression. “Now we're both stalling.”

“At this point we're not getting anything done. Baby blue might bust in here to tell us off.”

“Later then.” He promises, a promise to be careful, a promise that he'll come back to you alive.

You nod, kissing him chastely, eyes tightly closed with a hope that your kiss would single handedly protect him. Pulling away, you grin at him, easing him some more. “Later, I promise.” You vow him the same thing.

“Okay,” he pats your thigh, reluctantly lifting you off his lap. “Come and stab me.”

Shaking your head with a smile, you take a fresh needle and quickly disinfect it since the needle you were holding onto is long gone in between the floorboards. Cleaning your hands, you shake your nerves away, and the trembling in your hands, not from the anxiety but from his breathtaking kiss.

Holding his ear lobe, you're the one holding your breath in once he nods at you to do it. With the needle piercing him, and the new silver hoop earring in, you marvel at the sight of your handiwork.

You hold the mirror up, showing him the back. “You didn't bleed much, thank fuck. What do you think?”

Ekko, rotates on his seat again, grabbing you by your hips with his finger looped around your belt loops and pulling you closer as he looks up at you with endearment.

“I like it, what do you think?” He plops his head on your shoulder, careful not to nudge his new piercing.

“You're right, it suits you. You look very handsome.” You whisper, hand splayed over his back, and lips blowing air into his warm ear, making him flinch away. He looks at you, feigning offense but his mirrored smile says otherwise. “You're welcome, you still need to pay me though.”

“Oh really?” The silver earring sparkles in the light as he tilts his head teasingly. “In what kind?”

You pretend to think. “Hmm, I'll take payment in kisses.”

He shrugs, taking your chin in between his fingers. “Pucker up then. I have too much so I expect some spare change right after.”

1K notes · View notes

nsharks · 6 months ago

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-two —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 5.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

"Hold him close to your chest, or he'll jump out of your arms. Here—like this."

Blue gently cradles the rabbit, then carefully tucks him into Ari's arms, guiding his hands to scoop under Grim's fluffy rear. She can't help but find it amusing that the boy who had taken her riding on such a large animal yesterday looks so wary holding a harmless bunny. A giggle bubbles up, and she bites her lip to keep it in.

"He's so... squirmy."

Blue keeps her hand on Grim, reassuring both the rabbit and him. "He's just ready for his breakfast. Want to help me feed him?"

"Sure."

Blue leads Ari to the hutch where the other rabbits are. She explains her morning routine, showing him how to supply the rabbits with enough grass, leaves, and berries to keep them healthy and plump. Not long ago, she was explaining this to Twix—the very person she forgot to say good morning to in a rush to find Ari outside. This time around, she wonders if Ari is genuinely interested or just being polite. She finds herself stealing glances at his face, studying his expressions perhaps longer than she should. His almond-shaped eyes and dark pink lips catch her attention.

He's cute.

It's not the first time the thought has crossed her mind since these strangers appeared. Cute like the men in her magazines, though he's not quite a man. Not in the way Ghost is. But he's taller than her by a head and two years older, evident in the notch on his throat and the deeper timbre of his voice.

But it doesn't matter. They are only here for a few days.

Blue closes the hutch and rocks on the soles of her boots. "Well, that was probably boring, huh? We could, um, go hunting if you want. Or to the pond. It's fun to swim there. Or maybe—" She pauses, mentally sifting through the limited activities available, frustration creeping in as none of them seem particularly impressive.

"This wasn't boring. Now I know rabbits are just as friendly as horses." He smiles.

"They are... except when Grim gets mad. Then he can be a bit of a jerk. Like if you accidentally step on his tail."

"I'd be pretty pissed if someone stepped on my tail, too."

"You don't have a tail."

"It's just a joke."

"Oh..." she fidgets with a strand of hair. "Right."

"The pond sounds good. It is fucking hot." Ari blows out a breath and swipes at the back of his neck.

"I know. So hot. Hot as balls."

Ari raises an amused brow. "Yeah, uh, hot as balls. Are you allowed to go by yourself, or do we need to ask your dad?"

"I get to do what I want," she lies easily with a shrug. "Buuuuut, we can ask Twix to go with us."

As long as Twix is with her, she suspects she can get away with not asking Ghost, who luckily is hunting with his old captain. It's not that he seems distrusting with these people as he did those first few months with Twix. Rather—she isn't thrilled about him knowing every little thing she does. She's never had anything just to herself.

Twix is sitting on the porch, looking rather deep in thought as she skins a squirrel. Her hair is long, curtaining her face. When Blue asks if she wants to go to the pond, she agrees easily, claiming she has been meaning to cut her hair anyway with the encroaching warmth of summer. Nereida joins, too.

Even early, the air is sticky, and the pond is cool and inviting. Ari rips his shirt off and jumps in without even a second to waste. Blue usually swims in her underwear and shirt, but she hesitates with her thumb in the belt loops of her jeans. She didn't consider that he would see her in her underwear.

A soft touch to her shoulder. It's Twix. "Want me to grab you shorts real quick?"

"Um... yes. Yes please."

She changes into the shorts behind a tree. There is an odd pit in her stomach when she gets in the water. She doesn't quite know what it is, but it's similar to how she feels when she's scared sometimes. Ghost always tells her fear is a useless thing. It doesn't keep you alive. So she ignores it, shoves it down deep, and swims over to Ari with a purposeful splash that even wets Twix, who sits at the edge sharpening her knife.

"Damn. That's gonna cost you."

A splash is given in return, and then they are playing. High noon bounces shimmering light off the water as she tries to keep up with him, but at one point he sneaks up on her and she ends up with a mouthful. Nereida spends her time picking at some bunches of rosemary and Twix cuts her hair. But Blue doesn't notice any of that too much. When the water stills and they pause to catch their breath, Ari climbs onto a rock and shakes out his wet hair. She is quick to find a perch beside him. Absentmindedly, she pinches the bottom of her wet shirt to keep it from sticking to her chest.

"Woah. What happened here?"

Ari leans over to tap her thigh.

"Oh—" she looks down at the thick scar, "I got shot there."

"Shit. You've been shot before?"

She nods and he moves his hand. "That's your battle scar."

"Battle scar?"

He smiles, eyes gleaming. "It's nice to have some place to swim so close by. Back at our old camp, there was lake but it was a few miles away, so my mom rarely let me go."

"I'm sorry, you know. About your mom. Mine is dead, too."

He half-smiles. "Thanks. I don't think about it too much anymore. My uncle and I have always been close so it helped to have him there." He nudges her shoulder. "You're damn lucky to have such a cool dad, huh?"

"Ghost?"

"Yeah, that guy is a beast. My uncle says they called him Ghost because no one could ever see him coming before suddenly, they were dead."

"Oh, yeah, he is super cool," she quickly agrees. "He has taught me a lot."

"Shit, really?"

Nibbling the inside of her cheek, she shrugs to feign indifference. "I know how to throw knives pretty well."

"I gotta see that." His smirk etches a light dimple into his cheek. Then, his eyes flash behind her. "So what's up with his girlfriend?"

"Huh?" A divot forms between her brows before she follows his gaze, landing on Twix, whose hair is now just past her shoulders. She is wetting it, running her fingers through the newly cut strands. "Oh—Twix. That is not his girlfriend. She is my friend."

"You mean they don't sleep together?"

"Like in the same bed?"

"That's usually where people fuck, yeah."

He seems ready to laugh. She frowns, head tilting as confusion hums in her chest. "You mean like sex?"

He nods. "You know what that is, right?"

"Yeah, of course. I know all about it."

"You know they're probably doing it, right?"

"Ghost and Twix? No—no," she forces a laugh. "I mean, sometimes I catch him staring at her all weird. But I don't think—I mean, they hardly like each other and she is my friend, really, not his. He used to make me stay away from her, even. But I mean, they do spend a lot of time together now. It's usually to practice fighting and defense. Not to have...sex."

"Don't they share a room?"

"Just right now, because you guys are here."

Ari chuckles. "You really think they aren't fucking in there? She's really pretty. There's no way they aren't."

Blue looks back at Twix. Blue's fingers curl into the soaked fabric of her top. Her eyes flick back to him. "She would've told me if they were."

"If you say so."

Your thumb throbs in rhythm with the steady pump of Kyle's arms. Despite pressing it into your palm to dull the pain, the ache persists. You had nicked it while sawing off your hair, and now the taste of blood lingers in your mouth. You were still lapping at the painful pulse when the three men arrived to the pond, carrying a neon orange inflatable raft. They want to test it out on the water before embarking on the 35-kilometer journey across the channel.

It is the third day of their presence and you can honestly say you've grown more comfortable, given that Kyle has gone hunting with you a few times now. He is easy to talk to, along with Nereida. Price—however—doesn't seem intrigued by you, or maybe you are insignificant in comparison to the rest that is on his mind. That's fair. You don't all need to be friends.

They've been spending most of their time gathering food. Ghost has been helping Price hunt deer to skin and dry into jerky they can take with them. Nereida showed you a patch of wild strawberries she found yesterday, boiling them down into jams before canning them. By having food with them, they will save time from having to hunt along the way. In perfect conditions, it would be a straight path, and they could make it to the Swiss mountains within a month or two. But it won't be a straight path, and obstacles are bound to hinder them.

Kyle audibly growls and straightens, wiping at his percolated brow. "This chamber just isn't inflating."

"It must have a hole somewhere. Check the seams," Price says.

Ghost flips the half-filled raft over with ease, running his fingers along the PVC. "Here." He taps what must be a minuscule puncture because you can't see it from where you sit.

They patch it up with the little adhesive they have. The unease is noticeable as Kyle keeps pumping in air; they only have enough to cover a few holes, if they come across more. Finally, the six-person raft is full and they toss it onto the pond. Just the sight gets you thinking of all the variables they have to think of on the open water: the weather, currents, temperature. You had a friend in high school who swam across it once. She didn't get even halfway but having to pulled out, vomiting, and near-hypothermia. Open seawater is different than a pool. Unpredictable and quick to change.

"It seems sturdy." Nereida winds an arm around her husband's waist, pressing a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Don't worry about it."

"As long as it stays sturdy."

"It will," she assures him.

The cut has crusted over by the time evening settles and you have to will yourself not to pick at it. You find yourself alone with the horse, watching the sun set behind the trees, as everyone else eats.

"You probably don't like being tied up here, huh? You'd rather be running around." The coarse mane engrosses your fingers. Cherry bobs her head and a wet muzzle brushes your elbow. It tickles and you smile softly. "I wonder what will happen to you once they leave," you whisper. "Horses can't fit in a raft, huh?"

"No, they can't."

A hand presses into her neck beside yours, the person's arm extending over your shoulder. You crane your neck at Kyle but his eyes are on the animal, thoughtful, brows lowered. You wet your lips and step to the side to bring more space between your bodies.

"Not hungry either?" you ask.

Finally he looks at you, lips quirked at the side. "Nah. I had a big lunch." He stops petting her and crosses his arms, chin tilting. "Ever ridden a horse before?"

"Once or twice. As a kid."

His eyes almost lean dark green in the cast of orange light, but it must be a mere illusion. "Care to go for a ride?"

His eyebrow rises expectantly. You glance back at the cabin and then at Cherry. "Why not?"

He instructs you how to get on. You grip the knob of the saddle and flex your core, hoisting yourself with more strength than you've had to use in a few days. Kyle sits behind you and grips the reins after untying her. The last time you were on a horse was for a friend's birthday party; you trekked through a ranch on a white pony. Cherry is much taller than that one was, or maybe you're not fond of being so high up. You thread your fingers through her mane.

It is a silent ride at first as you try to ignore the sting on your butt, unused to firm leather seat. He must notice your discomfort because he tells you to relax and lean back. You do, until your spine brushes against his chest. It helps a little.

Cherry trots calmly through the trees, towards the circle of stumps that marks the east.

"Do you think she will be able to take care of herself?" you break the quiet.

"I'm sure she will be fine. Smart girl, huh, Cherry?"

The sun has disappeared but it isn't quite dark yet. "Are you scared?"

A breathy chuckle emits from behind you. He must realize what you are referring to—scared for the journey. "Yeah, always. I mean—I'm scared about Ari. He's the last family I got, and as old as he thinks he is, he's still young and naive. I still have to make choices for him."

"I was terrified of losing Joseph," you admit, and swallow. "He was so young and fragile. It felt like...like trying to keep an egg from cracking when your hands are made of stone. But at least I never had to take him to another country."

"That was your nephew? Joseph?"

You nod.

"Tell me about him."

You rack your brain. "Well, he was seven. And he..." You smile to yourself. "He was the pickiest eater in the world, even when we were all starving. I could not get him to eat meat unless I practically burned it. And he liked to look at bugs. I did, too, when I was young. I used to dig up worms when it rained to show him." He hums a gentle laugh behind you. You find yourself lost in the thought of it for a second. "Sometimes I...I think about how once I die, there will be no one left to remember those little things about him. Then, he will be completely gone, you know?"

You don't know why you're telling him this. You shake your head. "Sorry."

"Don't be. We gotta talk about shit like that or else we'll go crazy."

"I'm pretty sure I'm already crazy."

"Probably." A deer passes to the left and Cherry startles, but he is quick to soothe her with a flick of the reins and a stern—easy. She settles. "Are you scared?" he asks after a moment.

"Of what?"

"Of traveling so far."

"Well, I don't know if Ghost..." you trail off, absorbing the tone of his voice. You stiffen. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"I mean how we're all leaving in a month."

"Wait—stop." You grip his hand over the rein with more force than necessary, urging him to bring Cherry to a halt. You twist your spine and gape at him. "What are you talking about?"

He eyes you with a frown, and rubs his neck. "Shit. I thought he already told you."

"No, he didn't. Tell me," you demand.

He clears his throat. "He, uh, agreed to come this morning, but only if we take another month to prepare and shit. Get his daughter ready, sort things out."

You try not tremble in anger as his words sink in, clenching your hands as your breath picks up. "Take me back," you breathe out, brain racing. "I want to go back now."

The ride back is silent. You feel shaken. Your nail digs deep into the nick on your thumb unthinkingly until there is a smear of blood over your fingers. The others are getting ready for bed when the two of you return, moon bright. You bite your tongue until Ghost leaves to his room, then you follow him, closing the door as gently as you can behind you.

He is halfway through peeling off his socks and stuffing them in his boots when you approach. "What happened to being a man of your word?"

He looks up, resting his palms on his parted knees, looking far too relaxed for your liking.

When he doesn't respond, you add, "You were supposed to tell me. You said you fucking would."

Your voice is low but harsh.

He stands, a calm understanding washing through his eyes. "I was about to tell you."

You throw up your arms but try to stay quiet. "Bullshit. You're just saying that now. You've had all day to tell me."

"I was waiting for the right time."

"You think I can't handle it," you accuse, an ugly snarl on your face. "That I don't deserve to be apart of these conversations even after everything I have done for you, and for her. I saved her life! You get pissed at me for not telling you about stupid things, meanwhile you don't communicate something so important like we are leaving with them in a month to fucking Switzerland. Does Blue know? Or do you keep your own blood in the dark, too?"

He growls quietly and takes hold of your chin, tilting your gaze to his. His touch is firm but far from bruising. "I am not lying to you. I wanted to have a conversation right now, where it could just be us. And no—I haven't told her. How I explain this to my child is not your concern." There is a command in his voice that forces you to calm down some, but your breath is still warm through your nose. He moves his hand to gently thumb a strand of shortened hair off your forehead, staring at it for a second, before gripping your chin again. "There is nothing I think you cannot handle. Now, who told you about this?"

Blotches of red crawl over your cheeks. "It doesn't...it doesn't matter."

He is visibly unsatisfied. He taps his thumb against your chin. "Tell me."

"It was...Kyle," you concede in an exhale. "He assumed I already knew."

His eyes darken. "It wasn't his place to assume."

"He didn't mean to." You reach up to pry his hand off, and he relents, leaving your jaw feeling sore. You rub it. "Why a month?" You try to change the topic.

He takes a deep, steadying breath and looks away, jaw flexing. "She needs time. I want to prepare her for all possible outcomes. I still don't think she is ready, but that doesn't matter. There won't be another opportunity like this in the future. I have to make her ready." He sits down on the edge of the bed and sits his elbows on his thighs, collecting his thoughts before adding, "And the weather is a big factor. Just because we have means to get across the water doesn't mean it will happen safely. The current is most predictable in July and August. We will wait until then."

You mentally sort through everything he is saying, willing yourself not to linger on the fact that you are beyond scared. Scared to leave the place you have finally felt safe in. Scared to clearly be the odd one out again. A tag-along. Everyone else in this group has a loved one looking out for them. You have yourself. You don't know if you have Ghost, really—not when Blue is the one he loves. His allegiance can only go so far.

"Okay," you whisper, more to yourself than to him. "A month, then. What about shelter? The nights will be our most vulnerable."

"We'll look for the safest places for the night. There'd be seven of us, so plenty of eyes to keep watch."

"And what if we run into a horde?"

"Well, we have plenty of ammo now for that." He flicks his eyes up to yours. "Thanks to you."

You nibble your cheek, palming your chest as if to calm your heart.

"A month," he reminds you. "We will account for everything."

"Okay," you say again. There is a tinge of embarrassment over your outburst, but he doesn't seem fazed, as if you hadn't just barged in the room yelling at him. "Okay."

A click of his tongue. "Any more questions?"

"Not...not for now, I guess."

A few silent beats pass. The tension has left the room, leaving you with a wave of fatigue. Ghost must notice because he rises, gesturing to the bed. "Go on, then."

The bed is yours again. Too exhausted to question it, you slip under the quilt, curling into a fetal position by the slanted ceiling. It's best to enjoy the warmth before you're back on the move. A week journeying through the woods was the worst you'd ever endured, barely surviving. Now, it'll be months, or however long it takes to reach the goddamn Swiss mountains.

The light flicks off. There is a groan in the mattress and heady warmth spills over you. Your eyes fly open. "What are you doing?"

"Getting some sleep."

You turn around to see him lying beside you, flat on his back, with his arms crossed behind his head. "Together?"

"Clearly neither of us fancies the floor."

You flush, feeling his firm thigh brush against yours. "Just... keep to your side."

"I'll be a gentleman, if you're worried."

"I'm not," you mumble. "How do you even sleep in that thing, by the way?"

"Like a baby."

"Don't you think it's weird that Kyle has seen you without it and I haven't?"

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Twix."

"And mental sanity doesn't suit you, Simon."

"Don't recall giving you permission to use that name."

"What, only your old captain gets to use it? How close were the two of you, exactly?"

Teasing him feels better than you're willing to admit.

He grunts. A pillow is thrashed against the side of your face. "Go to sleep."

"Yes, sir," you bite into the pillow.

Your instinct is to flinch closer to the edge, though it is difficult given the small size of the bed and the unnatural size of him. Your knees float off the mattress. Still, his sprawled-out position leaves points of connection. Your back, his elbow. Your feet, his calf. Small touches that do a surprisingly good job at soothing the mess in your brain.

You awake. Warm and rested.

Safe.

Morning light streams in, turning the backs of your eyelids red. Your face nudges forward until your nose brushes against fabric—a shirt. Awareness settles in slowly. Your toes stretch and brush against another set of toes. You realize you’re curled close against someone.

He’s still on his back, his right arm draped across your waist, fingertips resting on your exposed hip. Your breath hitches, and you do your best not to flinch. Your face is nuzzled into his chest, close enough to discern ribs from muscle. His steady breathing and gentle rumbles indicate he’s still asleep. You’re ready to peel yourself away when you notice your leg is on top of his, practically trapping him.

Fuck.

You stay still, devising a plan to extricate yourself without him noticing the position you're in. Then, in one swift motion, you leap up, removing all contact, and breathe hard as if ripped from a nightmare.

His eyes open and he swears. "Jesus. What was that?"

"Just a dream," you lie. "Sorry for waking you."

You jump out of the bed and practically run out before he can say anything; before he can realize how odd it'd be for you to have a dream when you haven't had one since... since staying in his room.

You lock yourself in the bathroom and grip the counter, knuckles whitening in the attempt to erode the feel of his warmth that seems to linger. A lump is forced down your throat as you lean back against the wall and close your eyes for a moment. When they reopen, you look down and lift your shirt, only to find the indent of strong fingertips brandishing your plush hip. Jesus. Your stomach knots and unknots.

"You didn't like that," you whisper to yourself. You brush your thumb over the marks, gently at first, then palming them hard as if to erase them. You drop your shirt and look at the mirror. "You did not like that."

Before someone can stumble upon you talking to yourself, you comb your fingers through tousled strands and slip out. It seems most others are awake. How could you and Ghost have slept so long? Usually, the two of you are up with the sun.

"Hey. Morning," you greet when you spot Blue on the porch, belly down, as she plays checkers with Kyle's nephew. She glances over her shoulder. Something in her bright eyes seems...off, but you can't put your finger on it.

"Hi. Is Ghost up yet?"

"Hm? Oh, uh—not sure. I didn't check, really."

"Okay." She looks back at the game and says nothing else. You feel as though she saw right through you. Or maybe that boy has told her everything. Surely he knows about Ghost's plans? Kyle had to have told him. Maybe that is why Blue seems upset, but like he said, it isn't your place to say anything.

You are itching for a hunt.

It feels urgent, for some reason. Like you want to get out of here before Ghost can be up, too. You find Kyle and he suggests that the two of you take Cherry so you can get go further south where he claims there is a meadow to look for deer. It is difficult to ride with him behind you and a bow on your back, so he wears it for you. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head.

"Awfully quiet this morning. Penny for your thoughts?"

"I talked to him," is what you give. "Last night."

"Ah. How'd that go?"

"It was fine. I mean, I am getting used to the idea."

"That's good. It'll be worth it, you know. Once we get there. Finally get to have a semblance of a normal life."

A normal life. You almost snort at the thought.

The morning grows longer, and not even the haircut can save you from the sweat that gathers. You make it to the meadow after an hour of horseback that leaves your thighs bristling. He helps you down and ties Cherry to a tree. You wade through tall, bright grasses that sway in the humid breeze. It looks vaguely familiar, stirring something in your gut that has your boots frozen for a moment.

Kyle looks back at you, noticing that you've stopped following. "Good?"

"I just—I think I've been here once before. When I was on my own. I came this way." Your eyes scan the surrounding trees, where the meadow feeds into the forest, and an a gnarly oak with distinctive branches catches your eye. "I definitely have been here. I slept in that tree."

You push into the meadow, shaking off the memory. Staying close to Kyle, you listen as he lightly shares memories from the military, careful not to startle any potential deer. He talks about his time in Afghanistan, mentioning that his brother was also there, but at a different base. Kyle didn't even know his brother had died until weeks later because he was out in the field.

"After Afghanistan is when I met Ghost the first time."

"Oh?"

He nods. "He was my lieutenant when I went to Russia. I was scared shitless of him at first. I mean, he had a bit of a reputation and I was only 22."

"He was good at what he did," you say.

"More than that. People said he was up to some shit outside of what he did, but that was just rumors."

You think you spot a streak of gold through the grass, but it is just a stalk of wild wheat. You look back at him. "What do you mean?"

"May have heard a thing or two about him killing a guy off-duty. Of course, unconfirmed, otherwise he wouldn't have been enlisted again."

He killed someone? Like actual murder? You're about to ask more, your mind flashing back to your face pressed against him an hour earlier. Then you spot a deer. Kyle sees it too and motions for you to stay quiet. Your boots are nearly silent as you draw an arrow, squinting to see clearer. There are three deer: an adult female and two fawns. You draw the string and aim for the adult, the easier target.

"I'll get the doe," you whisper.

"Gotcha."

The beady black eyes turn your way, and you hesitate for a moment. There's movement, a flash of grey, and the doe snaps her eyes in another direction. What is she looking at? Your brows furrow, arrow following her gaze, when the answer appears: a Grey launching toward the deer. The three deer run off, and you release the arrow, aiming for the Grey's head instead.

"Motherfucker. Ruined the kill," Kyle mutters.

You weave toward the corpse, surprised to see such a fast one alone, indicating a new infection. The stench is pungent, enveloping you in a thick cloud. You shudder. The Grey writhes, your arrow lodged in its neck instead of its brain. You draw another arrow and aim when a hand suddenly grips your shoulder.

"Twix," Kyle breathes in your ear.

"What?"

You look away from the Grey and follow Kyle's gaze, your eyes widening in horror as you realize the terrible smell isn't from this single creature. It's hundreds. A dark, grey mist that unfurls through the trees. A growing chorus of agony as their tattered bodies collide—some limping, others hurtling forward in a grotesque dance, but all converging on the meadow.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #zombie apocolypse au

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