#and its not even like...a bad five days late either

[punk-o-ween]

born to sleep, forced to do 5 day late schoolwork

[arolesbianism]

Finally got around to doing tiphereth core suppression and I got to remember why I put it off for so long holy shit it's so boringggggggg

[jenosonlywife23]

No One’s Girl but Yours

You knew something had shifted when he stopped holding your hand in public.

At first, it was small things. Late replies. A forgotten date night. A kiss that felt like it was more habit than want.

You brushed it off. You always do. Because it’s Haechan. Your Haechan. Loud, annoying, sweet-talking Haechan, who used to wait by your door even if it rained. Who used to get pouty if you didn’t answer his calls in five minutes. Who would pull you onto his lap just because he missed you. Even if you’d only been in the next room.

But now?

Now he doesn’t even notice when you sit beside him.

The glow of his phone lights up his face, his laugh spilling out too easy as he replies to her—Minji. His best friend since "forever". The one who’s suddenly in every story, every plan, every moment of his day.

“She just gets me,” he told you once, when you finally said something. “It’s not like that, babe. Don’t be weird.”

Weird.

You were weird for noticing how she lingered a little too close when she spoke to him. Weird for knowing his smile by heart—and noticing he saved the real ones for her.

You hated it. Hated the way your chest twisted, hated the jealousy boiling under your skin. But what you hated more? Was how you missed him.

Missed the way he used to try.

Tonight, it’s the three of you. You hadn’t planned to see her—but of course, she’s here. She always is now.

You sit there, legs crossed, arms folded tight across your chest, watching him. He doesn’t notice your mood. Doesn’t notice how your hand stays clenched in your lap instead of reaching for his. He’s too busy laughing at something she said, leaning into her space like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And you snap.

“Do you want me to leave so you two can keep flirting without the third wheel?”

Silence. Heavy. Immediate.

Minji blinks, mouth parting in surprise. Haechan turns to you, eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You laugh. It’s bitter. Sharp. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

He scoffs, standing up. “No, but clearly you’re going to tell me.”

“You stopped trying,” you say, voice tight. “You act like you’ve already got me so it doesn’t matter anymore. You used to choose me. You don’t anymore.”

“I always choose you—”

“No, you don’t.” You stand too. “You choose her. Every day now, Haechan. She gets the parts of you that used to be mine. And maybe I shouldn’t care, maybe I shouldn’t act like this—but I do. I’m possessive, okay? I get jealous. Because you’re mine. And I miss when it actually felt like I was yours too.”

He stares at you. Silent

You stare at him, chest rising and falling like your heart’s trying to claw its way out of your ribs.

“I don’t even recognize you anymore,” you whisper, softer now, but it lands harder. “You used to make me feel like I was the only person in the world. Now I feel like a convenience. Like I’m just there.”

He flinches. But you’re already grabbing your bag.

“Where are you going?” he asks, voice sharp.

You look him dead in the eye.

“Somewhere I don’t have to beg to be loved.”

That hits him like a slap. He doesn’t move at first—doesn’t chase you, doesn’t stop you. Maybe he doesn’t believe you’ll really go.

But you do.

You don’t answer his texts.

You don’t take his calls.

You disappear.

And suddenly, he’s not laughing with Minji. He’s not smiling at his phone. He’s not sleeping either—not when every part of his apartment still smells like you.

He starts showing up. At your work. Your gym. He’s waiting outside your building in the rain like you used to wait for him.

And when you finally open your door after days of silence, he looks wrecked. Eyes swollen, lips chapped from chewing them raw. A bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand, his phone in the other with your name open at the top of a hundred unread messages.

“I didn’t know how bad I’d gotten,” he says, voice breaking. “I just… I thought you’d always be there. And that’s on me. That’s all on me.”

You don’t say anything.

“I haven’t been me without you,” he whispers. “I’ve been walking around like a ghost. I can’t even breathe right if I don’t know you’re okay.”

You fold your arms, standing firm. “You made me feel disposable. And it’s gonna take more than a few flowers and some sad words to fix that.”

“I know,” he says immediately, stepping closer. “I know, and I’ll prove it. Every day. I’ll show you that you’re it for me. Not just in words. In everything. I’ll re-learn how to love you right if you let me. Just… please, give me the chance.”

You watch him.

And for once, he’s not confident. Not smirking. Not charming.

He’s just a boy who forgot how lucky he was to have you—and now he’s terrified he’s lost you for good.

“I'm not gonna make this easy for you,” you say finally.

He nods. “You shouldn’t.”

“Good,” you mutter. “Because next time you make me feel like I’m not enough, I won’t come back.”

He swallows hard. “There won’t be a next time.”

There’s a long pause. You don’t invite him in.

But you don’t close the door either.

And that’s enough—for now.

[xo-cod]

141 + reader

hc's when you five share the barracks together/just in general <3 (ooc, rushed my bad lmao, can be read platonically/romantically, reader is v close to them!!) kinda long oops 😩 might do a part 2 idk

nsfw version 🩷

there's a whole lot of testosterone and musk in the air when you're sharing living spaces with 4 men ‼️

all four men compete with each other to get your attention, even if it's unknowingly

whole lotta pouting when you're spending time with more man than the other, you're a great companion ;) and the army is lonely. they all need equal love and attention

speaking of, if you're smelling like one of them the other will immediately bundle you in his arms to put his scent on you instead and to cancel out the other (alpha behaviour 😵‍💫)

whole lotta flirting from each of them. they're all very intelligent soldiers, they know exactly what to say to get you going 😙

all of them adore the height difference with you. you get teased about it relentlessly (out of love obvi)

i don't think they're particularly messy men but ghost and gaz are the most cleanest, they like having their things in order and knowing where everything is

price is next because he's slumped with being captain so you'll see a lot of his paperwork around with coffee mugs from pulling all nighters

soap is more organised mess. it might look messy to you but he knows exactly where everything is

you, soap and gaz definitely have rap battles late at night. it starts of quiet but you'll usually hear price shouting at you three from his bedroom to stfu. ghost threatens to pull a grenade if you don't be quiet

assuming you're naturally a good cook, they'd all be so appreciative :") especially on bad days, your cooking reminds each of them of home (or lack of)

face masks! gaz would 100% be down to do them with you, soap would follow next because if gaz is doing it then he too???

ghost would roll his eyes, continuing polishing his guns with a rag "you ain't putting that muck on my face"

price would just look at you, shaking his head "got too much to do, sweetness"

but you're quite the convincer and all four men are on the floor of your bedroom, gossiping about the last mission with their preferred colour of face mask across their faces

assuming you're the only woman, they get very protective when you're hurt. soldiers get hurt from time to time but its different when it's you

"you alright, bonnie?" soap's gentle voice comes through your room as he hands you a warm mug of your fave drink

gaz had you wrapped in a big fluffy blanket, gently stroking your back

"who was it?" ghost's voice is firm, wanting to know who dared injured the youngest member of their team

"already got a handle on 'em" price follows, looking at the computer. whatever enemy dared to raise their hands on wished they'd be six feet under after all four men are done with them

you're the one each man needs when they're having a particularly bad day which are usually far in few between but sometimes it happens

gaz and soap are the types to seek you out, their faces settled in a troubled frown before they place their arms around you. no questions just yet, they just want to feel skin to skin for now. keeping them grounded before they can explain what happened. they're not looking for a fixer, just someone who'll listen

ghost and price are the type to isolate themselves for a while until it's night and then you'll find them gently knocking on your bedroom door and slipping inside, between your covers. their grip is strong, burying their faces deep into your neck whilst trying to wrap his arms as much as he can. these two won't talk much either, just looking to be held and stroked to calm down

ghost and soap are the type to show affection through lingering touches while gaz and price show affections through their words.

but speaking of hugs, each of them have their own special way they like to embrace

ghost thinks he's being slick but you realise just how touchstarved he really is, he gives hugs with his arms around your shoulders bringing you in to his chest. mostly because he's tall and broad but he likes how he can manhandle you from this position and smelling your scent <3

soap's the type to tackle you in a playful hug, maybe a spin to get a laugh out of you before he gently strokes your skin for a few seconds, a gentle kiss to your temple <3

price likes to hug from behind, resting his chin on your head while he looks at what you're doing. depending on you, his big arms are either wrapped on your waist or your shoulders <3

gaz gives side hugs because he likes linking his arm around your hips and he likes how you fit snugly into his body. and this way he can lean his head against yours and can bring you in closer with his other arm <3

all four can immediately smell you before you come in because they adore whatever perfume/spray you have

each of them would absolutely melt into pieces if you joined them/kept them company in what they were doing

and if they catch you in a towel after having a shower, best believe they're quickly walking back around to where they came from to help alleviate the growing... tent in their pants

lowkey kinda pervy 🫣 (never in a harmful way)

each of them have their strong points and would 100% train you in becoming stronger

even if you're a well established soldier, they all worry for your safety

price would teach you sniper techniques, ghost teaches you combat, gaz teaches you how to sharpen your aim and soap teaches you about explosives and how to construct/dismantle each of them

they take the training very seriously with you

a ton of cursing when their fave team loses lmaoo

if you're avid tea drinker, join the gaz/ghost/price club. if you're not, join the hater club with soap <3

ghost/gaz/soap will playfully fight with you, careful not to use their full strength and not to harm you. but it's so cute to them when you're struggling a little under them.

but when price scolds them in doing so, "i'm just helping in case there's an attack!"

if you're arguing against one of them, another will come to your defence. unless you're arguing all four then it's the silent treatment from you 🤭

all four of them melt when you call them by their real name instead of their callsign :")

ghost usually comes to you when his balaclava is broken and he'll keep you company as your fingers work their magic to the fabric, gently leaning against you as you speak to him

price will let you shape up his beard after you begging to do so and he grows to enjoy those tender moments

soap definitely calls for your help to shape up his mohawk, he trusts your hand to eye coordination above anyone elses

ghost will playfully ruffle your hair whenever you both pass each other

price gives you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder

gaz gives you a soft stroke on your arm or back whenever he's passing by

soap will gently tap his head against yours, not too hard to cause pain but just enough to know that he's there

but above all, the barracks you five share is definitely a safe space for each of them the second they come through the door <333

[honeyedmiller]

Long Overdue

joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel takes you out on a long overdue date.

rating: explicit. 18+, minors do not interact.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: descriptors of reader include mentions of being shorter than joel, and wearing a sundress. bicep/tricep appreciation. ass groping, one ass slap, fluff, illusions to smut, no use of y/n.

a/n: this is for @penvisions "give a little love" writing challenge. i got the prompt long overdue date with joel. so sorry i’m late to the challenge and this isn’t very detailed / well written. i wrote it in like an hour, but still hope you enjoy nonetheless.

-

You hear his truck pull into the driveway. 

One of the belts is bad, so it makes this funny noise. He says he’ll get to it soon. 

But, you know your husband like the back of your hand—soon means it won’t happen when it comes to his stuff, unless you’re constantly on him about it. 

He doesn’t mean to be forgetful, but work has been keeping him so busy that he barely gets to do anything else. When he’s not working, he’s resting his exhausted bones and mind by settling into the leather couch in the living room, favorite beer in hand. 

He’s home early today, though, which is a nice change from all the evenings he returns much later. 

You’re prepping dinner when he walks through the door. You hear the toss of his keys in the bowl on the entryway table, the clunk of his work boots as he toes them off his feet. His heavy footsteps as he makes his way into the kitchen to greet you. 

His large frame appears before you a few seconds later, and you look up at him with a soft smile. 

“Mm, you’re home early.” 

“Job’s officially finished,” he says, making his way to you. You hum as he wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. He kisses you there softly, moving his hands to your hips to give them a squeeze. 

“You gotta fix that belt in your truck,” you say matter-of-factly. 

He groans and lightly butts his forehead against your shoulder, rolling his head side to side. 

“I know, my love. Reckon it’s about time I stop puttin’ it off, huh?”

He lifts his head from your shoulder and kisses your cheek, turning you around. 

“Lemme see that beautiful face, baby. My wife deserves to be kissed proper.” 

You quirk a brow at him. “Does she now?” You grin like a fool, pulling his body closer to yours. He backs you up against the counter and cages you in with both of his hands landing on either side of you. He grips the counter in a way that accentuates the outline of his triceps, which makes your knees slightly buckle. 

Five years married and he still makes you weak in the knees.  

“Mhm.” His murmur is soft, leaning down to capture your lips in his. Your hands land on his sturdy chest, sliding down to his belly before wrapping your arms around his frame. 

“I love you,” he whispers. 

“I love you too, Mr. Miller,” you separate from him, holding him at arm’s length. “Now, get outta my kitchen. I have dinner to cook for my very hardworking man.” 

A deep chuckle evades his chest, and he leans in one more time to kiss your forehead before beelining for the fridge. He takes out a beer, waving the neck at you before shooting you a wink, leaving you to make his favorite meal. 

-

He’s an early riser. Always has been. He’s always up before you, but he’ll always give you a sweet kiss before getting out of bed—unless you entice him to stay in it with you. 

Today isn’t one of those days though, as you wake up around nine in the morning and sleepily look around for Joel. You assume he’s somewhere downstairs since he’s nowhere to be found in the bedroom. 

You roll out of bed and decide to get ready for the day, freshening up before slipping on a baby blue sundress. 

The sky is bright blue and clear, sun already beaming its harsh, hot rays on the entirety of Austin. 

You search for Joel downstairs, to no avail. You frown slightly until you hear tools clanking in the garage. You make your way to the garage door, opening it to see a rather ravishing sight. 

Sweat has soaked through the back and front of Joel’s gray t-shirt; beads of it running down his temple and through his sideburns, only to land on his neck and pool in the divot at the base of his throat. He has one curl hanging over his forehead Clark Kent style. His jeans hang perfectly on his hips. His biceps bulge and he grunts as he tightens something under the hood of his truck. 

The sight of him makes your mouth fucking water. 

You lean against the doorway and bite your lip, admiring him while he works. 

“Looking good, cowboy,” you tease, pushing off the door frame to fully enter the rather stuffy garage. 

He turns his head and his eyes lock on yours. His tongue darts out and wets his lips, and your eyes follow the movement. He clocks it right away. 

He gives you his famous cocky smirk—or, as you like to call it, the panty-dropping look. 

“Mornin’ sweetheart. How’d you sleep?” He turns back to his truck, tightening something one more time before tossing the wrench onto his work bench.

You wrap your arms around his torso, kissing his clothed shoulder as you rest your cheek between his shoulder blades. 

“Good, honey. But I was missing you this morning.” 

“Sorry, sugar. Finally decided to stop puttin’ this shit off so I didn’t have to worry about it anymore.” 

You press a kiss between his shoulder blades, hand traveling down his tummy, closer to the hemline of his jeans. 

“‘M all sweaty,” Joel chuckles, but by the way he shifts, you can tell he’s getting a hard-on. 

“Oh please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Like that’s ever stopped me before.” 

He bursts out into a laugh, tummy moving with the sound. 

“I know you’re rollin’ those eyes at me, pretty lady.” 

“Oh yeah? How do you know?” 

He turns around to face you after closing the hood of his truck, hands immediately moving to your ass. With two handfuls, he gives you a squeeze, quirking a brow at you. 

“Because I know my wife and that little attitude ‘a hers.” He smirks at you, almost like a challenge. 

“Well, you’re the one who married me, so that’s on you.” 

He smacks your ass playfully and rolls his eyes, grinning down at you. “Yup. And I’m damn proud.” 

He looks down now, seeing the dress adorning your curves perfectly. 

“Not to mention how fuckin’ sexy she is. I think a night on the town to show you off would do some good, dontcha think?” 

You tilt your head, biting your lip as you try to recount the last time you and him actually went out on a proper date. It’s been at least three or four months. 

“It’s a long overdue pleasantry, Mr. Miller.” 

He furrows his brows. You can see his brain reeling to try and remember the last time you both had a night out. 

“Shit,” he whispers. “You’re right. ‘M sorry, baby. Works been so fuckin’ busy with this project. I don’t mean to not treat you to a nice evenin’—it just slips my mind.” 

You pat his chest lovingly. “I know, Joel. You work so hard and the last thing I want is to nag you about taking me out for a night. I enjoy the dinners and conversation we have at home.” 

“My sweet girl,” he cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “You never nag me. And you deserve to enjoy a dinner that you don’t need to cook, too. It’s been far too long.” 

“You know I love cooking for you. It’s not a big deal.” 

“And I appreciate you for doin’ that for me and keepin’ our home so nice, clean n’ cozy. I’m not the only one who works hard, y’know.” 

“I love you, handsome.” 

“I love you too, baby.” 

“Now take me upstairs and show me how much you love me, cowboy. Then you can wine and dine me and we can go as many times as you’d like when we get home.” 

“As many times as I’d like?” He quirks a brow, smirking again as he pulls his body flush to yours. 

Butterflies erupt in your tummy at his eagerness. 

You nod. 

“Looks like I’ll be keepin’ you up all night long.” 

-

He takes you to a beautiful steakhouse, and you’re both dressed to the nines. Dinner has been wonderful, he holds your hand atop the table the entire time, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. 

He showers you with compliments, and the look in his eye—a daring, fiery glint—tells you he’d rather have you for dinner than the steak he’s eating. 

But it’s moments like this that have your heart melting. Even after these few years, the spark is still alive between you both, and god you hope it lasts forever. 

He’s your best friend and soulmate, and you truly can’t believe you’ve lucked out with a man such as Joel. 

He provides for you. Loves you endlessly and unashamedly. Teases you. Thrills you. Fucks you deliciously. 

It’s like he’s perfectly tailored for you, and the universe decided to let you fully immerse yourself in one of its finest creations. 

You have that look in your eye that’s completely awestruck, swooning over the fact that you get to call this man your husband. 

And he notices, because he looks right back at you like you hung the moon and stars. Like you’re his Aphrodite. 

Fuck, you are. 

And when he pays the check after you two finish your lovely meals, he takes you home and proves it to you, keeping good on his word. 

Over and over again. 

Just like he promised. 

[mattluvr]

dad!matt, a concept.

best read in dark mode ⏾

🫂🫐🧵 part ii — the labour. . .

⟡ ݁₊ . october 22nd. 6am. exactly one day late, and yours and matt’s daughter is on the way.

you’re nervous, naturally, the mere sight of the soaked bedsheets from where your waters broke moments ago making your chest feel tight; it hadn’t really sunk in that you’d actually have to give birth eventually, the pain slowly creeping its way through your body planting reality in place. even more so when the first contraction grips you.

you move towards matt, seeking comfort in his hold as the pain ripples through you. “fuck, i didn’t think it would hurt this bad.” you mutter through gritted teeth, nails clamping onto matt’s shoulders.

he sighs, rubbing the small of your back in soft circles as his eyebrows draw together. he’s concerned, obviously, but the contraction passes quickly, and he seizes the opportunity to grab your hospital bag and pack you up into the car.

after you did your hair and makeup of course.

⟡ ݁₊ . the journey to the hospital is more dangerous than the one from your labour scare a month ago; matt drives faster with only one hand on the wheel, the other clutched in yours as you use it to ground you through each contraction.

they’re more often and closer together, which you know from the endless pregnancy books you read is a telltale sign of your cervix dilating, and you silently start to pray this also means that the rest of pregnancy goes smoothly, complication free.

although, judging by the death grip matt has on your hand, you’re not sure whether you can rule out the prospect of your boyfriend fainting from pure stress.

he pulls into the hospital’s parking lot in a record time of 10 minutes, at least five speeding tickets with his name written all over them, but does not stop to give either of you time to breathe, a whirlwind as he rushes round to your side, hospital bag from the trunk already resting in the crook of his arm.

you laugh, accepting matt’s outstretched hand as you amble towards the entrance to the hospital. “i’ve never seen you move so fast.”

⟡ ݁₊ . you and matt check in at reception, with only one contraction marring your words, and the midwives are quick to find you a room and gown.

you change in the bathroom, trying your very best to ignore how the contractions make you double over each time, the green pattern on the hospital gown making your eyes hurt alongside the baby. you settle down in the bed and your midwife introduces herself to you and matt as she hooks you up to a monitor, the name betty suiting her grey curls and soft smile perfectly.

although you like betty less when she tells you that you’re only 3cm dilated. out of 10. matt swears your expression could curdle milk in that moment and he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“you’ve got to remember that each birth is different, so this could take a long time or a short time.” betty reassures you as she props the pillows up behind you. “you can help the labour pass by moving around. we can bring in a yoga ball if you’d like?”

matt answers for you anyways. “absolutely.”

⟡ ݁₊ . betty comes in throughout the day to check in on you; she brings you the yoga ball at 8am when you finally dilate one centimetre, helping you lower down onto the contraption, with matt by your side the second a sliver of pain crosses your face.

he rubs those soft circles into your back, and you rest your head on his torso when you bounce up and down. which obviously makes matt laugh, a mindless comment about how this is a familiar sight passing his lips, causing you to glare in turn, claiming that he’s making your contractions worse. that shuts him up.

⟡ ݁₊ . at 10am, you’re 6cm dilated, the yoga ball long abandoned in the corner of the room; you now find yourself on all fours on the hospital bed, rocking back and forth slowly. in your head it’s helping with the pain, but the real soother is matt’s constant presence next to you, the simple sound of his breaths calming you.

he’s already made the respective phone calls to his parents and brothers, nick audibly crying from joy over the phone whilst chris whooped and cheered.

“I’M GOING TO HAVE A NIECE BY THE END OF THE DAY!”

“would you calm the fuck down?” matt had hissed. “we’re in a hospital right now.”

“i wish they could see my death glare.” you had piped up, easing your rocking to look over at matt. he offers you an apologetic glance, hushing a see you later to the boys on the phone before hanging up.

you don’t even let matt apologise, babbling out words before your next contraction hits you. “can you call my mom?”

he doesn’t even hesitate. and that’s why you love him.

⟡ ݁₊ . the next hour flies by, a centimetre passing every 20 minutes, marking you at 9cm dilated by 11am and crying from how badly it hurts.

the midwives have moved you back to a flat position, your legs now in stirrups to give them easier access for checkups. matt is crouched down by your side, pushing your hair out of your face as you blubber in agony.

“i don’t think i can do this, matt.”

“are you kidding me?” matt squeezes your hand, his expression soft as he moves forward to peck your forehead. “you are the strongest, prettiest, most powerful girl i know. i love you and this baby, and i know you can do this.”

the tears from that point onwards are mixed with joy, comforted by matt’s presence beside you.

⟡ ݁₊ . at 11:30am, you’re ready to have your baby girl. biologically, maybe not mentally, your chest tightening as betty tells you with a soft smile that you’re now ready to start the process of pushing. but on the other hand, you’ve gone through at least 20 years worth of pain in the space of 5 hours and want nothing more than to get this baby out of you. so you reluctantly agree.

with matt’s hand clutched in yours, you lean forwards into each push, ungodly screams leaving your mouth in an attempt to cancel out the pain gripping you.

“good work, keep going!” betty spurs you on, her scrubs confined by an apron as she waits in anticipation. “the head’s almost there, a few more pushes!”

you exhale, turning to matt who gives you an encouraging nod despite his pale complexion, the boy about three minutes away from fainting. which almost pushes you on, now desperate to get your daughter out into the world before her dad passes out. you sit up on your elbows once more, vision blurred as you start the final stretch.

the head is out before you know it, and with one more weak push, the rest of your daughter is out into the world, sobs spilling out of your mouth as betty brings her up to nestle by you.

her lungs are full, both your cries mixed together in the thick atmosphere of the hospital room, matt’s own tears hidden as he leans over to observe his baby, shaky fingers reaching out to caress her skin.

he moves back to press another kiss to your forehead. “i told you you could do it.”

⟡ ݁₊ . october 22nd, at 11:33am, your daughter arrives into the world, and yours and matt’s lives are about to be changed in the best ways possible.

taglist. . .

( @aelinslegend, @mattslolita, @emely9274, @conspiracy-ash, @chrissturniolossidehoe, @mattbrainrot ) is open!

[kiyawritesforf1]

SHADES OF BLUE : A Race Against Ruin

Pairing : Jenson Button x Wife!Reader

Summary :

TW : Mention Of Miscarriage

“Shades of Blue: A Race Against Ruin”

A Fragile Victory

For five years, you and Jenson Button had built a life together—laughter echoing through your home, late-night talks about the future, and a shared dream of a family. The first three years were blissful, unmarred by the weight of unfulfilled hopes. But the last two? They were a quiet battle against an invisible enemy: infertility. Month after month, negative tests piled up like discarded dreams. You’d sit on the bathroom floor, staring at the single line, while Jenson would kneel beside you, his hand on your shoulder, whispering, “It’ll happen when it’s meant to.”

The gynecologist’s words were a double-edged sword: “There’s nothing wrong with either of you. It’ll happen when it does.” Comforting, yet maddeningly vague. You clung to that hope through every injection, every tracked cycle, every tearful night.

Then, after two years of trying—five years into your marriage—it happened. A faint second line. You didn’t believe it at first, taking three more tests just to be sure. When you showed Jenson, his eyes widened, and he scooped you up, spinning you around the kitchen until you were both dizzy with joy. “We did it,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “We’re having a baby.”

The news spread like wildfire. Friends, family, and even Jenson’s racing circle erupted in celebration. Daniel Ricciardo sent a ridiculous onesie with “Future F1 Champ” emblazoned across it, along with a note: “Better teach him to overtake early, mate!” You laughed until your sides hurt, imagining a tiny helmet on your future child.

The baby shower was a golden day. Lewis Hamilton showed up with a sleek, miniature Mercedes toy car—“For practice,” he winked—while Fernando Alonso brought a tiny racing suit, joking, “He’ll be faster than Jenson in no time.” Your best friend, Emma, organized games, including a blindfolded diaper-changing race that left Jenson covered in baby powder and Max Verstappen howling with laughter. “You’re hopeless, Button!” Max teased, snapping a photo for posterity.

When the gender reveal came—a burst of blue confetti—you cried, and Jenson pulled you close, whispering, “Our little boy.” The room cheered, and for the first time in years, the weight lifted. You felt whole.

The Shadow Creeps In

But as the pregnancy progressed, a quiet unease settled in your chest. At seven months, you started having nightmares—vague, haunting images of empty cribs and silent rooms. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Jenson was deep into the racing season, his schedule relentless. You’d always supported his career, cheering from the stands or the TV, but now, with the baby due in two months, you needed him closer.

One evening, as he packed for the next race, you sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on your swollen belly. “Jenson, I don’t feel right about this. Can you skip the next few races? Just until he’s here?”

He paused, a shirt half-folded in his hands, and turned to you. “Love, I’ll be back before you know it. The season’s heating up—I can’t miss these. And once he’s born, I’ll take all the time off you want. I’ll be home for two months straight, I promise.”

You frowned, the unease tightening its grip. “It’s not about after. It’s about now. I just… I have a bad feeling.”

He sat beside you, taking your hands. “You’re just anxious. It’s normal. Everything’s been fine at the checkups, hasn’t it?” His voice was gentle, but firm—the tone he used when he’d already made up his mind.

You wanted to argue, to make him see the fear gnawing at you, but you nodded instead. “Okay. Just… be careful.”

He kissed your forehead. “Always am.”

The Fall

Two days later, you were alone in the house, folding tiny blue onesies, when it happened. A sharp, searing pain ripped through your abdomen, doubling you over. You gasped, clutching the edge of the table, and then you saw it—blood, bright and terrifying, pooling beneath you. Panic seized you as you fumbled for your phone, dialing Emma.

“Em, I—I need help,” you stammered, voice shaking. “Something’s wrong.”

She was there in minutes, her face pale as she helped you into the car. The drive to the hospital was a blur of pain and fear, her hand gripping yours. “You’re going to be okay,” she kept saying, though her voice trembled.

At the hospital, the doctors moved quickly, but their faces told you everything before the words came. “I’m so sorry,” the doctor said, her eyes soft with pity. “We couldn’t save him.”

The world shattered. Your little boy—gone before he’d even arrived. You lay in the sterile bed, staring at the ceiling, numb. Emma stayed by your side, crying quietly, while you couldn’t muster a single tear. Not yet.

Jenson arrived hours later, straight from the airport, his face ashen. He’d been mid-race when Emma’s call came through, and he’d abandoned everything to get to you. He sank into the chair beside your bed, reaching for your hand, but you pulled away.

“I told you,” you whispered, voice hollow. “I told you I had a bad feeling.”

He flinched, guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t know. I thought—”

“You didn’t listen,” you cut in, the words sharp despite your exhaustion. “You chose racing over us.”

He didn’t argue. He just sat there, head bowed, as the silence grew heavy between you.

The Drift

The weeks that followed were a slow unraveling. Jenson tried—God, he tried. He canceled his next races, stayed home, brought you tea you didn’t drink, and spoke words you didn’t hear. But every time you looked at him, you saw the empty nursery down the hall, the future you’d lost. The grief was a wall, and neither of you knew how to climb it.

Friends came by, offering comfort that felt like noise. Daniel stopped in one afternoon, his usual grin replaced by a somber quiet. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, sitting across from you on the couch. “But I’m here, yeah?”

You nodded, managing a small, “Thanks, Dan.” He stayed for an hour, telling dumb stories about karting days until you cracked a faint smile—the first in weeks. But when he left, the silence returned, heavier than before.

Lewis called, his voice steady over the line. “You don’t have to go through this alone. Either of you. Let us help.” You thanked him, but you didn’t know how to let anyone in—not even Jenson.

One night, you found Jenson in the nursery, staring at the crib. “We can try again,” he said softly, not looking at you. “When you’re ready.”

The words snapped something inside you. “Ready?” you echoed, voice rising. “I wasn’t ready to lose him, Jenson. I wasn’t ready for any of this.”

He turned, eyes red. “I lost him too. You think I don’t feel it?”

“Then why didn’t you stay?” you shouted, tears finally breaking free. “I needed you, and you weren’t here!”

“I didn’t know!” he yelled back, then stopped, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know,” he repeated, quieter. “I’m sorry.”

The distance grew, a chasm neither of you could bridge. You stopped sleeping in the same bed. Conversations dwindled to logistics—bills, groceries, nothing more.

The Turning Point

Three months after the loss, you sat him down in the living room. “I want a divorce,” you said, the words tasting bitter.

Jenson stared at you, stunned, then shook his head. “No.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m not giving up on us,” he said, voice firm. “I messed up. I should’ve stayed. I’ll carry that forever. But I love you, and I know you still love me, even if you’re too hurt to feel it right now.”

You wanted to argue, to push him away, but his eyes held you—raw, determined. “We’ve been through hell,” he continued. “But we’ve made it through everything else together. Let’s try. Really try.”

The next day, he dragged you to therapy—literally, because you almost didn’t get out of the car. The first session was brutal. You cried, he yelled, and the therapist barely got a word in. But you went back. Week after week, you chipped away at the wall—sometimes with anger, sometimes with silence, sometimes with shaky, tentative hope.

One afternoon, Daniel and Max dropped by unannounced, armed with takeout and a terrible racing movie. “Therapy’s great,” Daniel said, grinning, “but nothing heals like bad pizza and worse plots.” Max nodded sagely, adding, “Plus, Jenson’s commentary will make you laugh or leave him. Win-win.”

You did laugh—Jenson’s exasperated groans at the film’s inaccuracies turning into a full-blown rant that had you clutching your sides. It wasn’t a fix, but it was a start.

A Fragile Hope

Months later, the air felt lighter. You still grieved—some days, the nursery door stayed closed, a silent acknowledgment of the loss. But you were talking again, really talking. One night, on the couch, Jenson told a story about a rookie mistake he’d made in his early F1 days, and you laughed—a real, unguarded laugh. He smiled, tentative, hopeful, and reached for your hand. This time, you didn’t pull away.

“We’re not okay yet,” you said softly, fingers brushing his.

“No,” he agreed. “But we will be.”

You nodded, leaning into him. The road ahead was uncertain—scarred by loss, paved with effort—but as you sat together, the echoes of blue confetti felt less like a ghost and more like a promise. A fragile, stubborn hope that, together, you could rebuild.

[jinmindeulle]

die with a smile | jeon wonwoo

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 jeon wonwoo x fem!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 4.1 k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst, fluff

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 well, it's the end of the world and walkers (zombies) are around --- but nothing too sad happens here!

this piece was highly inspired in the song that gives it its title and one of my favorite shows before they ruined it --- the walking dead.

When they said the end of the world was close, naturally, you didn’t believe it. It had happened multiple times throughout your lifetime, so you knew it would be no different.

Except it was.

Although it was hard to keep track, you estimated that chaos had erupted about five years ago. It had been a pretty normal day — and your birthday.

You had woken up to your alarm clock and your mother’s smile, congratulating you with a small chocolate cupcake covered in pastel pink frosting and heart-shaped sprinkles, with a white candle already lit. She had sung Happy Birthday with her soft voice and had waited for you to think about your wishes and blow it out. 

“Bea said she’s coming over tonight,” she had whispered as she hugged you. That was the last thing you had heard coming from her.

Because you had never seen your mum again. And your sister had never come. Only God — whether He existed or not was something you still had trouble with. How could He let this happen? — knew what their fate had been that treacherous morning.

Now, looking down at the half-cut strawberry pieces that were adorned with a single match emulating a candle, tears welled up in your eyes. You hated this, but Wonwoo had insisted, and you couldn’t find the courage to fight him. He liked to make people feel good and cared for, even when they felt like they had nothing left to do on this Earth.

“Do you think they are still out there?” you asked him, shutting your eyes and getting rid of the tears. You felt his calloused thumb caressing your right cheek, and this time, you decided to let him in — your birthdays were an emotional rollercoaster.

“We have to keep fighting. That’s the only way we'll know.” As he took your shoulder and nudged you to press against his side, you placed your head on the crook of his neck and enjoyed his warmth. It was not so bad after all. 

Because at first, you had evaded him. He had wanted to break down your walls, and you had shoved him away. You didn’t want to get attached to someone who could die the next day. Who could abandon you just like your mom and your sister had. But sometimes, in vulnerable moments like this, Wonwoo was your only comfort.

“Who is doing rounds tonight?” you asked, hanging on to the fabric of his sweater. Winter was close, and you had realized that it was getting colder and colder as the years went by.

“Either Soonyoung with Jihoon, or Jared with Gael” he whispered against your hair. “It’s been awfully quiet lately.”

“That’s no good,” you sighed, moving away from him to take a piece of the strawberries that laid in the plastic plate in front of you. “Wouldn’t it be easier if I stayed with them? I know the area better than they do, and I can dissuade walkers faster.”

“You don’t get to boss me around” he gave a soft but deep laugh and took the strawberry from your hand to shove it into his mouth “They have to learn. I will be near”

You had wanted to boss him around ever since you got to the safehouse. But to be fair, Wonwoo was too natural at it — he was deeply observant and an analyst at heart, characteristics that you lacked, which made him clearly fit for a leader role. And at that, he was extremely good. You had noticed those traits of his ever since you met him.

After everything went downhill, you had woken up laying on the floor of your bedroom, curled up under your desk. Your room had seemed to have been destroyed by an earthquake or a similar natural disaster. Your head and your jaw were hurting. You had a busted lip. Something had hit your skull and you had collapsed head first — that had been your assumption. When you called for your mother, silence had hit you.

You had tried to leave the house, but it was quite literally upside down. The door had been blocked by a concrete pillar and you had to force your sore body to climb out of the biggest window. 

No matter how dark it was, you had meant to find your mother at her workplace and, if possible, Bea at her apartment building which was on the way. 

To your surprise, both of them had been empty. The city was empty. How long had you been laying there? Where had people run to? What had exactly happened?

Fear had frozen you for hours, silently staring at your mom’s workplace building. Silence had slowly started to hurt your eardrums. The realization that you were all alone in a place that you had called your home for twenty two years had hit you, and you had collapsed, landing hard on your knees, sobbing.

Millions of questions clouded your mind as you felt your throat tightly closing up, air barely getting to your lungs. You had gasped and fisted your hands in the gravel, your breath getting faster as you tried to concentrate on each movement to finally take control.

“Hey!” 

Everything that had happened next had felt like a blur. A man — that you now know to have been Wonwoo — wearing round glasses, dressed in a baby blue shirt, dress black pants and shoes was kneeling in front of you, taking your wrists with his hands and helping you get back to your normal breathing. 

“That’s it. Breathe.”

As you look at him munching on your birthday strawberries, you silently thank whoever decided to put him in your way to help you breathe all those years ago. People had come and gone, some with good intentions, some trying to take advantage of you and your hard work to survive. But Wonwoo had stayed — he had fought to stay. And he had taken care of you even when you had treated him like trash.

“I know it’s late” you whispered, following his movements with your eyes as he cleaned up his fingers with a piece of cloth “But I’m not sleepy-”

“You’re not doing rounds” he interrupted, taking your face with his hands and staring at you “We can stay up to talk and giggle, but you are not working on your birthday” he sentenced, pressing your cheeks together.

“I cbnt tbolbk” you whined through your squished cheeks “Bwonbwoo!!”

When he bursted into laughter and finally let you go, you took your time to admire how his eyes lit up when he was happy — a rare occasion, if you may add. In times of chaos, happiness was not on the plate. 

“I’m gonna do my check ups. Finish your incredible birthday cake in the meantime” with a soft smile, Wonwoo kissed your forehead and stood up from the floor, where you had been sitting for your 12:01 surprise.

In these circumstances, getting ready to go to bed depended on how well things were going — when explorations were on the go, less people were around the safehouse, which meant that you wouldn’t be sleeping at least two nights a week to keep an eye on the surroundings. 

Children were part of your community now, and Wonwoo and the rest of the leaders had decided to double up the people that stayed alert during dark hours. The safehouse was still big enough to house everyone altogether, as he had preferred ever since the beginning. 

Leaving the building had merely started as a way to collect food and water, but as time went by, it had become a way to help people and grow the community — your community.

Tonight, however, you knew that Wonwoo had stayed back to be with you on your ‘special day’, even though there was nothing special about it. He rarely missed explorations, and when you stayed back, he trusted your safety to Seungcheol, that amazing brother-from-another-mother that he had helped a couple of months after he had found you, partnering with you as soon as he met you. But you were Wonwoo’s weakness and he wasn’t afraid of showing it to anyone, let alone you, so he had declared that he was spending the night with you. Whatever that meant. 

Laying on your back, you stared at the ceiling. On the rare occasions that Wonwoo decided to accompany you, he had been silent. By that point, you knew each other like no one else, but there were parts of your past lives that had remained hidden, and you both were aware of that.

One question had been caught on your throat for quite some time, and as he came back to your side and laid next to you on the mattress on the floor, you put your weight on the left side of your body and supported your head with your hand to look at him.

“Everything alright?” You asked, following his movements as he mimicked you to look at you in the eye.

“Yep. The group reported a signal, they found some walkers trapped behind a fence not too far away. Took care of them. Now they are on the food quest” his voice was low, signaling that people were already asleep. The small rooms were one next to the other, so quietness was a must during rest hours. 

“Any news on Chan?” 

“Nothing” he shook his head, softly taking a strand of hair out of your face “It’s like the Earth swallowed him” 

You felt how your eyes flooded with tears, and at the mere sight of your sadness, Wonwoo brought you close to his chest. “I hope he’s okay”

Chan was like a little brother to you. You had found him trapped on a roof, trying to get away from the then new threat — the walkers. You were still figuring out what they were, how they behaved, and most importantly, how to get rid of them. But by that time, some things were clear — walkers, or the dead, as some people called them, were looking for people who were alive to turn them into one of theirs; movement (and smell?) triggered them; aiming at the head was the safest way to get them over with.

Chan was surrounded by them, but thankfully, your group outnumbered the walkers, and all of you had weapons.

You had been the first to get to him and offer some water before you ran to the exit, where Wonwoo waited for you with his rifle ready to shoot. The youngster had held your hand all the way, and he had spoken to you and you only. After you had safely gotten to the building you had recently started to call ‘home’, Chan hardly ever left your side. 

But the only time he did, you never saw him again.

“I bet he is. He was getting better everyday” he whispered, caressing your hair. “He even started using my rifle. That’s a wild move coming from him”

“You never let anyone touch it. Not even me”

“Chan needed confidence. I’m glad I let him.” You sighed and slid your arm around his waist, getting closer to Wonwoo’s body warmth. “Woah. That’s new” he gave a small smile, welcoming your touch with a caress to your cheek. You never showed signs of wanting physical contact, so you were as surprised as him. 

“I guess turning twenty seven is making me clingier… and more curious” 

“I like that.” Wonwoo nodded, placing a hand on your waist. “What are you curious about?”

You slowly took your arm away from his body and hugged his hand with yours, caressing his fingers with a newly found confidence “Your ring”

When you heard Wonwoo sigh, you understood that that was a sensitive topic. He had let you brush his fingers with yours, but he didn’t move. So you did, returning to your initial position.

“You had it on for two years. You have never used it ever since I turned twenty-four.” you started, your hand still on his “May I ask why?”

He stayed silent for some minutes, and you decided not to push him. He usually took his time to answer, especially when he was in charge of big decisions. It seemed like this one was another one.

“I was engaged” he confessed, returning his eyes to yours. “When everything happened… She and I had a fight. I saw some things I wished I didn’t, she said some things I hoped no one ever said to me. But I was worried about her, and my heart weighed more than my brain when it came to her.”

“Were you looking for her when you found me?”

He nodded, gently squeezing your hip for support. “I was hopeful I would find her at home, but when I got there she had taken some of her basic stuff. So my only conclusion was that she had left me behind. I put two and two together”

“But… Why did you keep the ring for two years? If you knew she was being untruthful?”

“I took my time to make the decision. For how things were going, I was not gonna see her anytime soon. So every time we were not busy surviving, I just went back to what I had and analyzed every little moment, ever since we met until the day we last saw each other. I gave her a chance for two whole years. But the night of your birthday it all became clear to me.”

He slid his hand away from yours, and placed it on your cheek, giving it soft strokes. “It was the first time you had let me in. I saw you crying because I made you a birthday cake with an apple and a match. You hugged me, and clung to me. You said everything I had wished for her to have said that day. And by that, I just mean the ‘I appreciate your efforts to make me happy’ part. I realized I was not asking for a lot. She just wasn’t willing to give it to me. But you were.”

“Wonwoo…” you whispered, touched by his honesty, by his gentleness. 

“You must know by now how much I like you. I fell for you and the team we are. We work so well together. We find time to lead, to care for the community, and to come back to one another like we did at the beginning of this torn world. I am certain that you are the partner I have always wanted to have by my side. But I also know that you are not easy to fool into this romantic thing. That you have fears, that finding your family and Chan is your priority. So that’s why I have laid low, testing the waters. I just want you to feel safe around me, and come to me when you need me. I will wait forever if it means I get to have you like this from time to time”

You had sensed that he had become more and more concerned and attentive to you ever since that birthday apple cake day, but you had brushed it off as him being the responsible leader he was. You were, day by day, less hopeful to find your mom and sister alive, so he had naturally been by your side on those harder days. You just never realized Wonwoo had been looking at you with heart eyes from that moment on.

When you opened your mouth to speak, he interrupted you “You don’t have to say anything now”

“But I want to” you nodded, placing your hand in his, still on your cheek. “I am a little taken aback, not gonna lie. I thought you were just being you.” you chuckled “You know me so well that you are aware of my fears and priorities, and I appreciate you considering my feelings before advancing. But… I lost a mother, a sister, and Chan. He was here, and the next day he wasn’t. How would I keep on living if something ever happened to you? If my partner suddenly disappeared, leaving me and all these people behind? My heart won’t be able to handle it, Woo” you shook your head, tears already making their way down your skin, and your hands. “I don’t want to lose a boyfriend” 

“You won’t lose me” he brought you back to his chest, legs tangling with yours “I promise, y/n. I have fought for this community and for us for a long time. I want this to work out so we can get our lives back, but I don’t want any of this if you’re not gonna be with me every step of the way”

“I will always be here, Wonwoo”

“You know what I mean. I’m afraid I won’t be able to contain myself any longer. I want to kiss you whenever I want to. To have the right to call you mine. To hold you and lay here with you. To give you some hope for the future.”

The way your body fit with his and seemed to not want to let go anytime soon gave you the idea that you had always wanted him like that too. The panic that you felt every time he left for an exploration and the relief that travelled down your spine when you saw his smile flashing through the entrance on his way to hug you was making sense now. But that same panic was the one keeping you at bay — if you started loving him a little more than you already did, the day he never again walked across that door, just like happened with Chan, was going to come. And you would lose the only reason you had to wake up everyday in this fucked up world. 

“Can you let me think about it?” you asked, afraid of breaking his heart just now. 

“Of course. It’s been three hard years. I am a patient man, darling” The endearing term melted your heart, so you let yourself loose on his warm caresses, hoping this moment to last forever.

But you knew better, and in times like these, emergencies were more common than you’d like them to.

“Sorry to bother you” a voice was heard behind the thin wooden door. Jihoon “But the team is on their way back. They found Chan”

You had never ran that fast. Not even when walkers were behind you.

When Chan wrapped his freezing arms around you, you felt your heart regaining some of the life it had lost over the years.

“Happy birthday, noona” the tremble in his voice was heartbreaking and relieving at the same time. 

“Oh Chan” you sobbed, hugging him with all the care you could muster “You’re my gift”

It hurt to feel how thin he had gotten over the three weeks he had been missing, but now that he was under your care, you knew Chan was going to get better. He was your responsibility and you swore to yourself that he was never going through anything similar ever again. 

You heard as Wonwoo and Seungcheol commanded everyone around you to help in some way — getting the first aid kit, some warm food and a new set of clothes to help the young man recover his normal body temperature. 

A calloused hand hugged your shoulder and without even having to turn around, you knew Wonwoo was asking you to step back a little. 

“Wrap this around him” he handed you a blanket, and you thanked him with a small smile and tears in your eyes. 

You spent your first hours as a twenty seven year old watching Chan finally sleeping under as many blankets as you had deemed necessary, softly pressing your hand on his forehead from time to time to check his temperature. He had tolerated some warm can soup and water while one of the older girls, Savannah, had warmed some water for him to wash up.

After finally being sure that he was breathing normally and was not dying of hypothermia, you headed to Wonwoo’s small place, right next to yours. 

You saw him fast asleep, with his glasses still on and his old and torn notebook open and spread on his chest. A silver pen was lying by his hand, and you remembered how he had found it in one of your first explorations after joining the community. He had kept that in his pocket even since then. 

You didn’t want to wake him up, but at the same time, your answer couldn’t wait any longer. Chan was back. He had proved that not everyone disappears. And if they do, they eventually find their way back to you. Your mother and your sister were on their way — even if it took them years. They were out there looking for you.

And you also knew that the man sleeping in front of you was the first one to have found his way to you. He had never let you down — Wonwoo was not only physically there for you, even if it was just by lying next to you a feet apart, but he was also keeping his feelings from you in order not to put pressure on you and increase your hardships. He had given you time to see who he was to you, and to prove that you would never find anyone like him.

You would die if he died. No matter the label of the relationship you had. 

It was going to hurt the same. Because you had already fallen for him the day he had saved you.

“What are you doing here?” His question took you out of your trance, and when you saw him sitting up and rearranging his glasses to see you well, you found the courage to sit on the mattress next to him.

“Chan is sleeping like a baby. Looks like he will recover pretty fast”

“He’s young. And athletic. I’m just worried about the struggles he had out there”

“I’ll talk to him as soon as I see him ready” you nodded, looking down to your fidgety fingers.

“But that’s not why you're here for, though” 

You hated how well Wonwoo knew you. He could read you like a book and as much as you wanted to glare at him, your shyness was overpowering you.

“Mhm” you muttered, trying to find the words. “Getting Chan back got me thinking”

“I like when you think” he gave a soft smile and you had to raise your head to look at him.

“That was not a compliment, if you were thinking of it as one” you pouted.

“I have better ones, yes” he chuckled, and slowly took one of your hands in his “Stop the fidgeting. Talk to me”

You had to fight the urge to press your lips to his, because he would need an explanation first — that was how Wonwoo worked. But… maybe not this time. You really didn’t know how he would act around you as his girlfriend.

His girlfriend. Wow. That sounded great.

“What I said earlier. About you ever leaving me”

“I won’t leave you, y/n” he shook his head, eyes still bored into yours. 

“I know. And even if you did… It would hurt the same. Whether you are more than a friend or if you keep being my friend, I would cry the same. I would let myself die the same. So…”

“That’s too tragic for a love confession, darling” Wonwoo gave you a wide-eyed grin and you couldn’t help but laugh too.

“That’s me. Take it or leave it”

“I’ve been waiting exactly three years for you to let me take it. Pouring my heart out here” he wiggled the notebook on his other hand “so I didn’t have to say all that to you. So bold of you to assume that I would leave it”  

And with that, he freed his hands to cup your jaw and guide your way to his mouth. When they finally met, you felt a warm explosion in your chest — Wonwoo was gentle, caressing your lips with his to make you feel safe first. But you wanted more, and when you parted your lips, he swiftly transformed it into an open mouth kiss. 

And you melted.

“Thank you” he muttered in between kisses “Thank you”

If this was the end of the world, you were glad you had found Wonwoo before it finally ended. Maybe it had taken the Earth to collapse, and dead people to come to life in the form of zombies for you to get to the one and only man you would let in.

Even though you were still fighting to get the rest of your family back, you were sure that you would die with a smile if Wonwoo was next to you.

[beatrixst0nehill]

Alice rubbed her belly, flaunting her pregnant form eagerly. "Soooo, this is very exciting. H-Hey guys, surprise! I'm pregnant.... My parents basically gave me an ultimatum. Either detransition or start pumping out kids. Like.... I was thinking of just detransing, like what trans girl doesn't pump her cock thinking of that??? But I chickened out and said I wanted to start breeding! Granted, I was bringing home a new guy or three.... or five.... basically every night. And my parents had to listen to me giggle and moan and get my fat, girly ass pounded for hours, all the while having to deal with the walls shaking and hearing their spoiled princess get spanked and smacked around. I think they really regret talking me into transitioning but it's too late now!

I actually received an already-pregnant womb. Allegedly I'm six months along but I've only had this womb for three months. The hospital got it out of some ditzy college girl who was testing experimental fuck machines. A student cranked it up when she was testing it on her ass and it scrambled her guts. Soooo, lucky me? Is this big for six months? I feel like it is. My doctors assured me everything is normal and it's becoming very common for trans girls to become breeders!

There is one teeny tiny problem. So, they gave me a choice when daddy brought me in to get my womb. Either they don't do anything and my belly just gets bigger and bigger with no birth canal until the hospital scoops me off the street to give me a C-section, or they give me a birth canal. I thought the first answer sounded a bit scary. Apparently it's pretty popular and really exciting for the girls to see how long they can last without getting dragged to the ER and having their kids scooped out. I asked for a birth canal. Ummm, let me just show you."

Alice removed her baggy skirt, lifting her cock with great heft, hanging down to her knees. She slapped it onto the table in front of her camera. It was even thicker than her upper arms, totally swollen, with a gorgeous head the size of her fist and the color of her lips, its urethra drooling precum. "Look at this!" Alice stroked her cock, reaching forward, slipping four fingers into it with ease. "Oh fuck, it feels so good! Look, I can fist my cock! I may or may not be encouraging guys to fuck it, too....... My balls are gigantic, too. How am I supposed to stay a girl with balls the size of grapefruits??? Ugh, I swear I must cum a gallon a day at least, it's unbearable how bad my erections get after only an hour or two without sex or masturbating. I'm told it's a similar level of horniness to most cis pregnant girls. Hurray, I guess?

I am also on very high doses of estrogen to keep my hormones in check, but still! My cock used to be like five inches, and my balls were like marbles. My doctor says they're almost finished growing but I'm not sure I believe him. Either way us trans girls with wombs are apparently kept pregnant by the state. I thought I'd have to go out and get fucked but nope! I have no choice. I'll be kept pregnant forever now, forced to push as many kids as possible out of my 'birthing shaft' as they call it. Since technically it's too big to actually fuck girls with. Doesn't stop them from trying. I get soooo many pregnant girls who excitedly approach me, feeling my belly, asking how far along I am, or to see how swollen my pussy looks, only to lift my dress or skirt and they gasp..... Then these girls take it as a challenge, trying to suck it, stroking it, bending over and begging me to 'try my hardest to ram it in their holes'. It's kinda fun getting so much attention from girls all of a sudden but it's exhausting, too. And I'm only six months? How do girls walk with such giant bellies???

Oh well, another four months or so until the big day. I'll definitely be filming it. Hopefully my cock can withstand pushing out so many kids. I can't wait to try! I feel like even at this side my poor cock might burst trying to do this but I promise to put on a good show either way! I love being pregnant, and hopefully this is the first of many more! ❤️"

[wintrwinchestr]

obedience | part 1

summary: you decide to act out after feeling neglected by joel for over a week. it doesn’t go quite according to plan, but his punishment does help you unlock a new kink or two.

warnings: 18+, smut, no outbreak au, daddy kink, d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, brat tamer joel, degradation/humiliation (use of slut, whore, 1 use of bitch), orgasm denial/edging, boot riding, pet names (baby, babygirl, darlin’, sugar, sweetheart, honey, puppy), entering petplay territory??, finger sucking, one face slap but she likes it (and so do i), taking/sending nudes at work, subspace, hair pulling, joel cums on reader’s face, cum eating, two idiots who finally communicate and apologize to each other, gets soft at the end bc i’m a woman of many interests, reader can be carried by joel but no other physical descriptions, winter’s limited knowledge of what contractors do, pic of girl in the moodboard is for bra imagery only, reader looks just like you!! :)

word count: 4.1k

a/n: this is extremely self indulgent so please don’t look at me!!! lil shoutout to @pascalisbaby for inspiring me to write something just so i can use “puppy” bc their love’s gonna get you killed series has fucked me up extremely bad.

divider by @saradika

(read part 2 here)

It’s coming up on nearly a week and a half of Joel working long days and late nights at the latest suburban McMansion he’s been contracted out to. Each and every time he creeps into his side of the bed after you’ve already gone to sleep, never failing to wake you up in the process, he always has a different excuse. “My concrete guy was out sick today”, “the vendor gave us the wrong size rebar”, “the landscapers were in our way all damn day”, and other similar eye roll-inducing anecdotes that were followed up with sleepy apologies.

Tonight, you’re almost certain, will be just the same.

Slogging through yet another slow and uneventful day at your corporate nine-to-five, you’re practically counting down the seconds until you’ll be able to escape your drab little cubicle for the day. You aren’t exactly looking forward to going home, though, either. You know that all you have waiting for you will be another lonely night of heating up a frozen dinner, watching reality TV reruns until the ten o’clock news comes on, and then tucking yourself into a cold bed.

While you’re waiting around for a coworker to message you back about something painfully unimportant, you decide to get up to kill some time in the bathroom on your phone and stretch your legs a bit. You stand up from your rolling chair, grabbing your phone in the process, and head down the hall to the one single-person bathroom in the building that you know of.

You step inside and click the lock shut behind you, looking forward to having a rare few minutes to yourself without the threat of your manager lurking over your shoulder. You inspect your makeup in the mirror and address some flyaway hairs before leaning back against the sink and swiping your home screen into view. Your heart soars at the discovery of a text notification from Joel, but settles just as quickly when you read the words across your screen.

A couple of my dumbass guys fucked up some measurements again. Gonna be another late one. Sorry baby. 

You let out an exasperated sigh and turn around to face your reflection again, bracing yourself on the edge of the sink and trying not to cry. How much fucking longer are you going to have to put up with this? You'd been getting through it alright so far, but his sterile text had ignited a raging fire deep in your stomach that made a scorching heat climb its way up the back of your neck.

You’re determined to get his attention tonight, one way or another. Even if it means pushing some of his buttons, riling him up, making him feel a few licks of that very same inferno. You’re feeling fucking bratty.

You undo the top few buttons of your blouse and shimmy it off your shoulders, exposing the blushing lace of the bra you had chosen when you were getting dressed this morning. Using one arm to hold your phone up to the mirror with the camera app open, you use the other one to prop yourself up against the sink and assist in pushing your tits together. As a final touch, you pull down one of the delicate cups along with its accompanying strap, exposing an already peaked nipple. Meeting your own eyes in the reflection and forming your glossy lips into a faux pout, you snap the picture and attach it to your text conversation with Joel. You type out a coy little message to go along with it and send it off.

that’s okay daddy. just sad i wore a rly cute bra today for nothing :(

While you anxiously wait for his response, you take a few more lewd photos to tease him with later, and make your way back to your desk after you button yourself up again and smooth out your skirt.

Sitting back down at your cubicle, you check your notifications to find a response from Joel, sent just a few seconds ago.

What’d I tell you about sendin me shit like that when I’m at work? Put your fuckin tits away babygirl. Not in the mood today.

Despite his harsh words, you know your plan is already working in your favor. You can’t help but giggle to yourself as you attach another one of the photos you had taken in the bathroom, this one of your matching lace panties pulled aside to expose your bare pussy to the front camera. You type out another flirtatious message and tap the button to send it.

idk what u mean daddy :( just miss u is all. she misses u too :((

You promptly turn off your phone and place it screen-down next to your mousepad, resigning yourself to a mere ten minutes of work before you can’t resist temptation anymore and pick it back up again to check for a reply.

Last warning babygirl. I got enough shit to deal with today, don’t need your slutty pictures distractin me. I’ll see ya tonight.

whatever. u don’t pay attention to me anymore anyway :/

You begin to regret your message as soon as you send it, worrying you might have taken things too far. But it was true; you’re upset, in a bratty mood, and feeling neglected. And, maybe you did want to work him up enough for him to take it all out on you, to fuck the attitude out of you the way you know he likes to do every so often.

A few seconds after you power off your screen to do a few more minutes of work, it illuminates again.

Oh I don't? When I get home tonight you better be kneelin in front of the door waitin for me undressed like a good girl. Not like the fuckin brat you’re actin like. And we’ll see about payin you some attention. Now pull your fuckin panties up and get back to work.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you read his text, now feeling exhilarated that your plan is officially in motion. After you’ve read his words through a couple of times, squeezing your thighs together and stifling a whimper as you did so, your trembling fingers type out a simple reply:

yes daddy <3

The remainder of your work day seems to pass by in slow motion, every minute feeling more like five. You can hardly bring yourself to focus on any of your mundane tasks, your mind constantly drifting to what you might be in for tonight. Will he spank you and leave red handprints on your ass for days? Will he fuck your face while you sputter and gasp around him? Will he work you over with his tongue until all you know how to say is “I’m sorry, Daddy”? As you shake yourself from your trance and try to focus your eyes again, you wonder why you hadn’t thought to act up like this earlier in the week. You keep your eye on the little digital clock in the corner of your monitor for the last five consecutive minutes of your work day, and as soon as 4:59 flashes to 5:00, you practically sprint out to your car in your hurry to get home.

–

You’re cuddled up on the couch underneath your favorite fleece blanket, already stripped down to your peony-colored underwear set like Joel had requested. The past couple of hours have been spent cycling between all of your streaming services and social media apps, trying desperately to find something to occupy yourself with until he gets home. You’re half-tempted to get up and walk some laps around the house, but around 10:30, you finally see the scanning headlights of Joel’s pickup as it turns into the driveway.

You immediately spring up from your little nest on the couch and prance over to the front door, kneeling a few feet in front of it just like he ordered.

In your excited anticipation to see him, you tune your ears to pick up every little sound you hear as he makes his way to you: the slam of the truck’s driver’s side door, the dull thud of his work boots heading up the walkway, the prolonged jingling of his keys as he fumbles with them to unlock the door. You’re sure he’s fidgeting with them for a few seconds longer than usual, just to tease you and keep you waiting. A shiver runs up your spine and you can feel your heart pounding against the walls of your chest as he finally turns the lock.

He calmly steps inside and closes the door behind him, dropping his dusty work bag onto the floor and stripping himself of his canvas tool belt. He stalks over to where you’re knelt on the hardwood, wrapped in your dainty lace for him like a little doll. There’s something arousing about the contrast between your barely-there feminine attire and his dark, practical clothing.

“Well, whaddya know, she can be good after all… Waitin’ for me all nice and pretty just like I asked. All it takes is an order from your Daddy to get you actin’ right again, ain’t that right, babygirl? Obedient lil’ thing…” He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger as he speaks, keeping your eyes trained on his. You nod up at him, doe-eyed and dazed, already feeling yourself beginning to slip into that familiar saccharine headspace.

Every time you had previously tried your hand at bratting, it never lasted very long, and tonight was already proving to be no different. He was right, after all, it doesn’t take more than a command, a look, a gentle grasp of your chin, to remind you of your desire to be good for him.

“What, Daddy doesn’t get a proper greetin’ after a long day o’ work? You already that far gone f’ me, can’t use your words proper like a big girl?” 

“H-hi, Daddy… Missed you today,” you half-whisper, your voice sounding a little higher and further away than it did earlier in the day.

“Yeah, I know y’ did… I’ll bet your lil’ panties are ‘bout soaked through already, bet you left a wet spot on your fuckin’ desk chair just from daydreamin’ about what I was gonna do to you tonight, hm?”

Another silent nod accompanied by a pitiful little whimper. The blazing fire in your gut from this afternoon is quickly being replaced by something much more easily tamed, something more akin to a flickering candle flame than a wildfire. You struggle to keep your eyelids open as they begin to feel heavier with submission.

A stern look and a ticked jaw is enough for you to correct your wordless response.

“Y-yes, Daddy…”

“And what is it that you think I’m gonna do with you tonight, babygirl? Speak up, now…”

You rack your brain for a moment, suddenly unable to remember any of the depraved fantasies you had been conjuring up all day instead of replying to emails. You eventually land on a relatively straightforward answer.

“I th-think you’re gonna… gonna fuck the attitude outta me, t-teach me a lesson… right, Daddy?”

He lets out a dark chuckle, releasing your chin from his hold to give your cheek a couple of condescending pats instead.

“Aww, dumb lil’ thing… you thought Daddy was gonna touch you at all tonight, make that pathetic lil’ pussy cum after the stunts you were pullin’ today? Nah, I don’t think so… Open that slutty fuckin’ mouth.”

You’re reeling, taken aback by his harsh words, words that were certainly not in any of the countless scenarios you had been imagining at work. There’s a long beat of silence as you struggle to process his command.

You hear the smack across your face before you feel the heated sting of it, and it prompts a debauched mewl to spill from your parted lips.

“I said open your fuckin’ mouth…”

Your jaw falls slack in an instant, your pulsing cunt releasing an ashamed wave of wetness at the degrading slap. Joel shoves his thumb inside your waiting mouth, and you wrap your lips around it obediently as you swirl your tongue along its calloused landscape. It tastes salty, a little dirty, and you like it.

“Good girl, suck on Daddy’s thumb, tha’s it… dumb whore’ll suck on anything Daddy puts in her mouth, won’t she? Desperate lil’ thing… Bet you wish it was this fat cock instead, don’t you baby?”

You whine and nod around him, your hole squeezing around nothing as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Well… that’s just too fuckin’ bad, ain’t it? Tonight’s not about what you want, you can gimme that sad puppy look all you like, sugar, not gonna change anythin’...”

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, and your slick lips try to chase after it until he wipes it clean on the side of your face. His hands make quick work of opening his stained work jeans and freeing his stiff cock from his briefs, taking it into one hand and beginning to pump it with languid strokes. He grabs a fistful of hair at the base of your skull with his free hand and taps the leaking head of his length against your cheek, adding to the dampness there from your own saliva.

“This what you want?” Tap tap tap. “You want Daddy’s cock? Hm? This what you been thinkin’ about all day, dirty girl?” He rocks his hips back and forth as he speaks, smearing his arousal along your skin.

You can’t help but squirm as a humiliated heat begins to pool in your tummy.

“Yes, Daddy, please let me have it, wan’ it so bad…” you beg.

He releases your hair and pulls his cock away from your face, making a show of massaging it and taunting you with what he won’t let you have.

“Nah, you ain’t gettin’ any of Daddy’s cock tonight, baby… In fact, I’m gonna stand right here and take care of m’self, and you’re gonna find somethin’ to rub that soakin’ cunt on while I watch…”

As the last of his words leave his lips, he steps one foot forward and nudges it between your thighs, looking at you expectantly. You lower your head to face his steel-toed work boot, covered in dust and dirt from his day at the construction site. Your mind still too deep in the clouds to understand what he’s asking of you, you lift your eyes back up to him for guidance. He juts his chin out in a silent “go on, then”, and you return your confused gaze back to his boot, the toe of which is positioned just in front of your aching heat. Your breath hitches and your eyes go wide as you finally realize: he wants to pleasure himself to the sight of you getting yourself off on his boot.

All at once, it falls into place how he wants the night to unfold. He wants to deny you. Deny you of his touch, his cock, even the privilege of making him feel good yourself… all because you acted out, disobeyed him, tested his limits.

“We understand each other, darlin’?”

“Y-yes, Daddy…” You meet his eyes as you speak, voice coming out a little unsteady. Any confidence you had while you were teasing him this afternoon is long gone, fully submitting to him now and completely at his mercy. He didn’t need to fuck you in order to put you in your place, he knew plenty of other much more degrading ways to rid you of your bratty attitude, to remind you of who you belong to.

You position your cunt over the filthy toe of his boot, the gusset of your lacy panties now completely saturated with your wetness. Your hands planted on either side of his leg, you try an experimental grind onto the leather-covered steel. A bolt of electricity shoots from your swollen clit to your fevered cheeks, burning with the eroticism of being made to humiliate yourself like this. He allows you to wrap your arms around his calf, using his sturdy form as leverage to rub yourself harder and faster against the solid material. 

“Look at you, humpin’ my boot like a fuckin’ dog… that’s just what y’ are, ain’t it? Daddy’s lil’ puppy…” he teases, spurring you on with his words and the indecent sounds of his wet fist working along his thick cock.

You let out an involuntary yelp at the new pet name, which he’s quick to catch with a huff through his nose.

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she? Y’ like that, sweetheart, bein’ Daddy’s good girl, his obedient lil’ puppy? Yeah, I know y’ do… I got you trained good, don’t I? Do just about anything I want, won’t you? Got you rubbin’ that slutty pussy on my fuckin’ boot, for Christ’s sake, barely even had to ask… fuckin’ pathetic.”

The degradation makes your stomach swirl with a cocktail of embarrassment and pleasure. Your cunt flutters as you continue your frantic movements, releasing broken whimpers that sound something like uh huh and yes, Daddy. You’re sure that your slick has to be dripping down his boot by now, soaking straight through the leather and pooling onto the hardwood. You wonder if he might punish you for that, too, for making a mess of him and your freshly mopped floors. Just the thought of it has your hips picking up the pace, desperate to reach your high.

Your eyes are shut tightly as you pursue your orgasm, but you can still hear the shallow pumps of Joel’s fist and his stuttering breaths that indicate he’s close to his own release.

“Yeah, grind that sloppy fuckin’ puppy cunt on Daddy’s boot, there ya go… lookin’ like a goddamn bitch in heat… desperate whore… c’mon, puppy, make a fuckin’ mess for me…”

“I’m gonna cum, Daddy, gonna–”

Just as you feel yourself about to crest the wave of your climax, he pulls his foot out from under you and yanks your head back by another fistful of hair.

“Open up, puppy,” he groans as he splashes his hot release all over your face, aiming most of it around your mouth as you cry out from the denial of your own pleasure.

“Look at you, filthy girl… So pretty for Daddy, all covered in me,” he coos as the last few milky drops land on your cheek. Before any of it can start to drip, he scoops it up with his thumb and feeds it to you a bit at a time, and you continue to suck his finger into your eager mouth once again.

When your face is fully cleaned of his spend, he pulls his thumb from between your lips for a final time with a pop, and you stick out your tongue to show him you’ve swallowed everything he’s given you. 

“Good girl,” he praises, petting the side of your hair in soothing strokes. “What do you say to Daddy, hm?”

“Th-thank you…” you choke out, still trying to steady your voice.

“And what else?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. “And… I’m sorry, Daddy,” you relent.

“For what, sweet girl?”

This was always your least favorite part, the part you struggled with the most: admitting that you were wrong. 

“For being a brat today, for not listening and disrespecting you…” Your posture deflates, wondering if you should continue your confession. You remember one of the ground rules that was laid out when you first entered this dynamic with him, the one about how important communication is, and decide to keep going. “I jus’ feel like you’ve hardly paid any attention to me the past few days…” You start to sniffle as you speak, the overwhelm of it all finally catching up with you.

“Oh…” he breathes sympathetically. “Here, can you stand up, babygirl? C’mon, come sit on Daddy’s lap for a minute.”

He offers you his hands, and you use them to push yourself up onto shaky legs, feeling like a newborn foal. You wrap your arms around his neck and he scoops you up, carrying you bridal-style back to your cozy spot on the couch. He situates you in his lap, wrapping you up in your blanket again, and you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between his shoulder and neck. You inhale through your nose, smiling to yourself and sighing contentedly when your senses are flooded with his natural comforting smell.

“I know I’ve been workin’ some real late nights recently… I’m sorry about that, honey,” he apologizes, rubbing comforting circles around your upper back. 

“‘S okay, Daddy, ‘s not your fault,” you say into his skin.

“But I shoulda made more of an effort to give you some lovin’ anyway, I shouldn’t have had to wait for you to brat on me… Look at me, baby.” You lift your head and meet his sincere gaze, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry too, Daddy.”

“I know y’ are, sweet girl, I know…”

You exchange warm smiles, and he curls his pointer finger under your chin to pull your face toward his, placing a delicate kiss to your lips. He settles both of his large hands on either side of your face before breaking the kiss to press your foreheads together. You close your eyes and try to match his breathing, enjoying this moment with him.

After a minute or so, you break the silence. “So… puppy, huh? That’s a new one,” you giggle.

He laughs and releases your face from his hold, meeting your eyes again. “Jus’ wanted to try somethin’ new, I guess…” He snakes a hand under the blanket, thumbing over the damp crotch of your panties. “And judgin’ by this lil’ mess down here, I take it you liked it. Hm, pretty girl?”

Still sensitive from your earlier denial, you let out a high pitched little whine and an involuntary buck of your hips into his hand.

“See? Even sound like a lil’ puppy… Daddy’s good girl. You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”

“Uh huh, yes, Daddy, please…” Your face is buried in his chest as you rut into his hand, squeezing it between your thighs, back to the same place you were just before he pulled his boot out from underneath you.

“Daddy was so mean earlier, wasn’t he? Not lettin’ you cum, punishin’ you for actin’ up… But I think you’ve learned your lesson now, huh puppy? C’mon, sweet girl, let go, soak Daddy’s hand…”

And you do. With his permission, you cry out, muscles spasming and cunt twitching as you finally ride out the climax you’ve been chasing all night. You’re panting by the time you start to come down after what feels like several minutes, exhaustion hitting you hard all at once. When some of your awareness has come back to you, you realize that Joel is gently rocking you back and forth on his lap, petting the back of your head and gently shushing in your ear.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright, babygirl, I gotcha, Daddy’s gotcha… So good for me, baby, my precious girl…”

When your breathing evens out once more, you muster the strength to lift your head from its place against his heart, and he chuckles at the sleepy and sated look on your face as you blink slowly at him.

“My lil’ puppy’s all tuckered out, huh? Let’s get you up to bed, darlin’, Daddy’ll tuck you in.”

He stands up with a groan, cradling you in his muscled arms, and carries you into the bedroom. You’re already drifting off to sleep when he sits you on the bed, carefully stripping you of your ruined underwear and helping you into a clean, sensible pair of cotton undies. He retrieves one of his oversized “Miller Contracting” shirts from his drawer and slips it over your head, helping your weak arms through the sleeves. Brushing your hair away from your face, he places a scruffy kiss to your hairline and helps you lay down onto the cool sheets. He pulls the covers up all the way over your shoulders, the way he knows you like, and smiles to himself when you burrow yourself into the sheets.

He takes a quick shower to rid himself of the grime and grit he collected on his skin during the day, and slips into bed beside you. Another private smile and a small shake of his head when you instinctually turn to face him and snuggle into his warm body, wrapping your arms around the breadth of his upper arm and inhaling the masculine cologne of his body wash.

He reaches across his chest to gently scratch at the top of your head, prompting a dreamy little noise from you. “Just like I said,” he whispers to himself, “a lil’ puppy.”

He wouldn’t have you any other way.

not really sure who to tag for this one, gonna use the same list from my last fic if that's okay!! anyone else please let me know if you'd like to be tagged on my future fics!!

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @gracieispunk @iamasaddie @rebel-held

[delirious-donna]

Awake At The Witching Hour [Part Four]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: You can't sleep and it seems your handsome host can't either. What is there to do in the middle of the night?

pairings: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: NSFW, mutual masturbation (but separate, you’ll get the gist), Nanami being pent up, imaginations running wild (both Nanami and reader), cumshot, reader described as being generous and soft in body

Part Three | Series Masterlist | Part Five

The witching hour. When it is said that the veil between worlds is at its thinnest, and the power of the nefarious is at its strongest.

You weren’t entirely sure what had roused you. No sense of fear gripped your heart so you doubted it was due to some bad dream, though it had taken a moment to remember where you were.

Black velvet darkness impaired your vision at first, drowsiness adding to your inability to pick out the details of the room you were lying in. The air was pleasantly cool against your warm sleep-soaked skin. You pushed back the duvet to feel the faint breeze play across the soft squidge of your abdomen—the oversized t-shirt you wore pushed up to your chest in the disarray of a tumultuous sleep.

The events of the day unfurled in your mind’s eye like a low budget movie. It still didn’t feel real, though you well remembered the blind panic and sense of anger then irritation at being walked in on whilst bathing. No, not walked in, leapt in on. Now that you knew Nanami Kento a little better it was hard to fight the smile that rose to your lips in memory.

He seemed so different at that moment, the booming “booo” not something you would ever expect from the rigid man he had been since then. You wondered if he was a little more relaxed with his friends and loved ones. Did he even have friends?

A suspicion told you that he was the type to keep to himself, or maybe one or two close friends at most. That was relatable, and made him all the more human in your eyes. What might he be like as a boyfriend, you wondered? Attentive and loving or distant and cold? Either was possible, as well as a multitude of other attributes and combinations.

Sighing deeply, you turned onto your side and pulled the covers up to your chin now that your body had cooled from the stream of air that crept in from the ajar window. A glance at your phone told you it was late—an hour you should be asleep at—but you were annoyingly awake.

It seemed the only thing on your mind was that of the man asleep in the room next to yours. A man that didn’t want anything to do with you, a perfect stranger. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder… couldn’t help but fantantise that he could be interested. If he were to knock on your door right now, his hazel eyes, dark pools speared with lightning, and desire evident on his cheeks you would welcome him.

Did he sleep naked? The thought of all that glorious skin bare beneath covers that matched the ones you were snuggled under sent a throb directly between your legs. You were developing a second heartbeat at an alarming rate and it was all his fault. It was ridiculous how good looking he was, and what made it worse was he didn’t seem to know it. You imagined your fingers running through his neatly parted hair and knew he would look even sexier with it all mussed. The just fucked look.

He was well built and definitely strong. Biceps didn’t bulge against shirt sleeves in the way his did if you weren’t bench pressing a decent amount regularly. That and the small home gym were more than enough to know with certainty that if he meant business, you’d be in a heap of trouble. In the best way. Your mind whispered, and you felt fiery warmth fill your cheeks.

You weren’t honestly sure when your hand had begun to stray.

The peaks of your nipples rubbed against your shirt, thumb and finger tweaking the sensitive buds and rolling them deftly until your thighs pressed together at the crave for friction. It was wrong to be thinking such lewd thoughts of your generous host—unwilling as he might have started out—but you couldn’t stop. Kento’s broad frame filled your mind, the looming shadow dwarving you enough to make you feel diminutive by comparison, and equally as thrilled.

The laboured breathing of his barreled chest hard to resist, the rise and fall evidence of a man close to the limit of his restraint and you badly wanted to reach out and touch him. Wild desire radiating from his every pore like a heady musk that you inhaled greedily, longing to become entirely intoxicated by him. Who would break first in the game of lust and longing? Regardless of the answer, there would be no loser.

This was so wrong. So stupendously wrong, not to mention, futile. A veil of madness shrouded the bed and you couldn’t stop nor did you actually wish to. In the darkest part of the night your deepest desires unfolded in perfect clarity. He ticked so many boxes and left question marks in many more. An enigma that you longed to solve. A riddle that you wanted to crow over the answer when it finally revealed itself.

Nanami Kento…

Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, eyes widened at the searing heat you encountered. The skin of your pubic mound was warm to the touch, but as you raked through the neatly trimmed hairs and moved closer to the heart of your sex, it increased tenfold. You might have hissed if you weren’t concerned with making any noise that could alert the object of your arousal. Wetness glided over the pads of your fingertips, sticky and abundant. It spread along your plump folds engorged with blood until your tented knees butterflied outwards and you could feel the twitching urge to toy with your clit.

What would he think of this madness? A young woman intent on masturbating to the thought of him. Would he deepen that permanently etched scowl and reprimand you? And why did even the idea of that outcome spark the ends of your nerves with raw electricity?

Speaking of the man in question, he was awake. Blinking into the darkness as if the ceiling held the answer to his current dilemma. That dilemma being the tent in his tight navy boxer briefs.

Without looking, he palmed himself and manoeuvred his cock to lie flush against his thigh. There. Now it didn’t appear like he was pitching a tent that could sleep a family of four. Instead, the heat of his erection seeped into him and roused his mind all the more.

His dreams had been a jumbled black and white mess, an indicator for the state of his mind. Sleep had found him easily, but the wrinkled and twisted covers showed that it had not been a sound slumber.

Kento puffed, grumpy and aching. He couldn’t recall the last time he wrapped his palm around himself to let off some steam. It had always seemed like a poor use of his time. Opting for cold showers to numb his swollen member, focusing on getting in a rigorous albeit begrudged workout in before the commute to work.

He baulked at the realisation he hadn’t cum in nearly six months. The last time he entertained the idea of dating even further back than that. So what was different?

You. You were something different. Smiling before he could school his features into neutrality, he surmised that your presence was fucking with more than just his routine. It was you that he thought of when he adjusted himself, trying and failing not to think of your smaller fingers around his shaft.

“What is wrong with me?”

He recalled the smile you gifted him when you parted ways for the night, how your small hand had once again reached out to lightly touch his bicep in thanks for carrying your small suitcase into the room. His cock twitched in response. Groaning, he smacked the pillow next to him over his face. If he were a dog his tail would be wagging. Not just a dog, more like a mongrel.

Kento swore your scent lingered in his room. The wafts of your perfume were stronger in the bathroom and he tried to ignore the subtle sweetness even as it infused inside his nose. Right now, it seemed to have settled into his sheets and he longed to bury his nose in the high count cotton and inhale deeply. Nothing was dissuading him from lowering the band of his briefs until he stood proudly erect.

Maybe if he satisfied the urge now, the fog that clouded his judgement would clear and all would be right again. That was what he told himself while pulling back the covers to free himself. Precum dribbled from the angry slit of his cockhead, turning the near purple tip glossy and sticky.

His thumb swiped through the mess and his hips rose instinctively. Behind his shuttered eyelids he saw you approach the bed, generous hips swaying clad in the softest satin. In truth, he couldn’t give a fuck for expensive lingerie, but it was aesthetically pleasing and this was his fantasy so why not indulge? He’d be just as happy to greet you in sweats or better yet… his shirt.

Oh fuck.

The tendons in his neck strained, head thrown back whilst he pumped himself lazily at first. Would you be shy in bed? Assertive? Would you drop your jaw to let your tongue run over the seam of his balls whilst using that quick witted mouth of yours on him?

The unknown was almost more tantalising to him than the act itself. It had been so long since the experience of working someone out appealed to him. To learn their nuances and what made them tick. More specifically, your nuances and what made you tick.

With months of denying himself under his belt, it didn’t take long for Kento to feel that familiar tingle begin at the small of his back. His balls drew tight and full, and he flushed a darker red at how easily he was ready to cum. His free hand clenched into a fist, the cotton of the sheets held tightly whilst his toes curled. A guttural groan escaped his throat before he could smother it, quickly biting his lip as spurts of hot cum lashed his quivering stomach. Warm honeyed pleasure dripped in inversion from the bottom of his spine to the base of his skull until his eyes rolled over.

Kento slowed the stroke of his hand, wringing his cock of every last drop until he was close to whimpering from the sensitivity. Panting from the far too quick ejaculation, his eyebrows pinched at the mess he had made. Streaks of milky release pooled near his navel, his hand and softening cock sticky and webbed from the moment of madness. As soon as he was certain his legs would work, he trudged into the bathroom to clean up with guilt weighing heavy in his gut.

A similar sensation burned in the pit of your stomach. Your chest heaved from the release you’d found, but it came at a price and now you were paying it.

You didn’t regret your actions but there was still a guilt associated with them. You were two unattached adults, and you couldn’t deny or sweep aside your attraction to Kento any longer, but he was Karin’s brother. He should be forbidden. You wouldn’t give oxygen to the mean voice in your head that said she deserved it for not telling you about him sooner.

The little pulsing aftershocks of your orgasm were fading, fingers sticky from how you had done your best to fuck yourself before switching to manipulating your sensitive pearl until white sparked in your vision. All the while you thought of how it would look to have his head between your thighs, his mouth on your pussy and your fingers tangled in his hair. Would he eat you sloppily or bite at the tender inside of your thighs? Would he welcome you rutting yourself against his mouth or would he hold your hips steady?

You sat up, legs wobbly when your feet fell to the floor. The bathroom wasn’t far and you needed to clean up and change your underwear. The reflection in the mirror over the sink looked hesitant despite the soft glow your skin exuded. A healthy dose of dopamine and the pump of blood circulating your body brightened you up even though it was the middle of the night, and you looked away with a troubled sigh.

The apartment was silent, your footsteps the only sound as you tiptoed barefoot into the kitchen for a glass of water before heading back to bed. Leaning your forehead against the cabinet, you listened to the rushing water for a moment or two longer than necessary before filling a glass and taking a sip. The sound masked the footsteps that approached, pausing then continuing on.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

A strangled scream caught fast in your throat, muffled by the water now rushing down the wrong way and making you cough and splutter. You whirled on the spot and came face to chest with the man you had spent the last half hour pleasuring yourself to the thought of.

Kento was bare chested—a fact your bulging eyes couldn’t believe—with a faint smattering of ash-coloured hairs decorating between his meaty pectorals and leading down towards his stomach. You didn’t dare follow it any further for fear of knowing whether it went right down to his happy trail, a fact that most definitely would see you moaning aloud.

A pair of pale blue pyjama trousers hid the rest of him and you were grateful for that. He stalled next to the kitchen island, an unreadable expression on his face, and were his ears red? It would be comical if you weren’t burning with mortification. Your heartbeat raced so thunderously that it was amazing he couldn’t hear it from across the room.

“I… couldn’t sleep,” you finally offered once you could breathe again without coughing.

His eyes seemed to search your features, whether for signs of lying or something else, you weren’t completely sure. At last, he nodded and walked closer to grab his own glass and fill it with water.

The silence was oppressive, thick and charged with an energy that bristled down Kento’s spine. “Do you need anything?”

Your head snapped around so fast he was surprised you didn’t give yourself whiplash. If he didn’t know any better he would say that warmth seemed to fill your face. The question was innocent but perhaps… no. He was trying to see things that weren’t there.

“An extra pillow. A thicker duvet.” He elaborated when you didn’t answer.

Having this casual conversation was excruciating enough given what he had just done to the image of you in his mind. It was made worse with the realisation that the reality of you was so much more appealing than his imagination could ever conjure.

The almost comically oversized t-shirt you wore dragged nearly to your knees, with the sleeves reaching well past your elbows. It kept your modesty intact and the mystery of it all made his mouth water. Discovering the curves of your body, which parts dipped and the soft rolls of your body would be hours of fun if he were given the chance, not that he would be. He idly wondered if you would look this good in one of his shirts before dismissing the thought, or trying to.

His cock twitched in his clean briefs and he cleared his throat and turned away, terrified of pitching another tent when one was not wanted nor needed. Kento didn’t need to think about how close you were, how all he had to do was reach out a hand and discover whether you would step away or approach. He couldn’t decide which outcome would be the better one.

“No, I don’t need a pillow or anything like that,” you said finally, though you left the sentence hanging because you did want something, but you couldn’t tell him that. “I’m just adjusting to sleeping in a new place, I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, but don’t hesitate if there is something I can do to help.”

You could stop looking like a damn five course meal.

The thought was in your mind so suddenly you nearly gasped, instead, masking it by taking a long gulp of water and walking towards the hallway. You needed to put some distance between you, to retreat to the relative safety of your room and chastise yourself for being no better than a lustful bunny.

With a faux smile and an appreciative nod, you turned one last time to glance at him. “Thank you, Kento.”

Kento watched you slip out of sight, back along the darkened hallway and listened to the soft snick of your bedroom closing shut. He was throbbing, a hand drifted to his crotch to hide what was growing. That was the first time you had called him by his given name, and he liked it.

What a mess, he thought whilst returning to bed. His eyes never wavered from your door until he was safely behind his own. His guts still twisted in memory of his unsavoury actions, but something more pressing was on his mind as he screwed his eyes shut and prayed for sleep.

I want to hear my name from your lips again…

[writinginatree]

Kiss It Better

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran/healer!reader

Summary: Bodhi shows up in the Healer Quadrant injured after a fight — again. With how often it happens lately, you're starting to suspect he's letting himself get hurt on purpose just so he has an excuse to come see you.

Dismissing your previous patient, you hurry on to the next. It's the day for challenges in the Riders Quadrant, which means even more of them are filling the beds of the infirmary than on normal days. Sure enough the person waiting on the next bed is dressed in black too, just like all five you'd treated today so far.

"What can I do for—" You break off when you actually look at the patient's face instead of just his uniform, and realize who it is sitting in front of you. "Bodhi?!"

"Hi, darling," your boyfriend greets you with a sheepish grin you don't return.

"What happened?" you demand to know instead. The only wound you can see on him is a small cut in his lower lip, but if that was all, he would've been turned away in favor of more seriously injured patients on such a busy day as this. "Is it bad? Show me where you're hurt!"

"It's not that bad," he assures you, and you relax a little, grateful he answered the most important question first. "Regular challenge, is all."

Still, his anatomical knowledge is hardly good enough to accurately judge if an injury is serious. He might think it isn't if it doesn't hurt much, but there are plenty of injuries that could be dangerous without feeling too bad.

"Show me!"

He lifts his shirt, revealing a fresh bruise blossoming across the side of his chest. "I think one or two of my ribs might have gotten cracked a little."

"Gods, Bodhi—"

"It's not that bad, really."

"Lie down and leave it to me to judge how bad it is. I'm the healer here, not you."

Bodhi does as you said, but can't stop himself from trying to soothe you. "Of course. I'm just saying, it barely even hurts. I wouldn't have bothered seeing a healer about it, but I knew you have infirmary duty today, so I figured—"

He interrupts himself with a hiss of pain when you touch your hand to the bruise, gingerly feeling along his ribs. There's some swelling, but no more than is normal for a bad bruise, and you can't feel any deformities from loose pieces of bone, either.

"Does it hurt when I press here?"

Bodhi nods, and you take your hand away, running it through his curls instead.

"How bad? On a scale of one to ten?"

"Six, maybe?"

"Okay... Take a deep breath. Does that make the pain worse?"

Doing as instructed, he winces. "Yeah, that hurts. But normal breathing doesn't."

You nod to yourself, already fairly certain it's just a small hairline break at the most. Painful enough, but by no means fatal.

As you continue to assess the severity of Bodhi's injury, your worry for him starts to ease, irritation rising in its stead. He's getting hurt much too often for your liking. It's not really his fault, you know, and it kind of comes with the job description of being a rider, but surely some of the injuries he has sought you out with could have been avoided if only he was a little more careful! Of course, it's not just him. After a year and a few months in the Healer Quadrant, you can confidently say that riders in general are reckless fools with zero regard for their own well-being — which is exactly why your fellow healer friends think you're insane for dating one of those daredevils with their thin-altitude-air-addled brains. While you love Bodhi dearly and wouldn't trade him for the world, your friends do have a point. Unlike you, your best friend never has to worry that her scribe boyfriend will wind up dead one day, nor does he add to the healers' already extensive enough workload by showing up injured every other day.

You shake your head at yourself. Now you're exaggerating. But Bodhi does make you worry a lot, and you can't even bring yourself to actually be mad at him for it. Not when he looks at you with that adoring smile, kissing your knuckles in thanks as you spread an ointment with a cooling effect over his bruised ribs.

"You're being careless lately," you say, the words coming out too softly to be taken as the accusation they're meant to be. "You never used to get hurt this often."

Bodhi just shrugs.

Having started dating at the end of your first year at Basgiath, you'd hoped to see less of him in your quadrant this year — as a patient, at least. But it seems second-year riders are no safer than their first-years. If anything, you've already seen more of Bodhi this year than you had in all your first year, though of course you hadn't payed as much attention to him then, so you might be misjudging.

You don't think you are, though. He's come seeking medical attention thrice in the last two weeks alone — conveniently always when you were on duty, you realize. You know he has your schedule memorized, so now that you think about it, it hardly seems like coincidence that every time he shows up it's when you're here. But it has to be, right? Surely he wouldn't be so stupid as to hurt himself on purpose just to see you... Right?

Faced with the way he's watching you — like a lovesick puppy, like you're the only thing in the world that matters — you're not so sure. It's true that classes and extracurricular responsibilities don't leave either of you as much free time to spend with the other as the both of you would like, but collecting injuries like this just for a few minutes more with you seems a little extreme.

And yet, you can't entirely put it past Bodhi. As a rider, extreme is kind of what he does.

Now that you've started thinking about it, you can't push the suspicion from your mind, so as you put the ointment aside, you decide to simply ask. "How come it's always when I'm on duty that you're getting hurt?"

Bodhi unsuccessfully fights a smile. "Luck?"

"Luck," you deadpan, now almost fully convinced he's been doing it on purpose. How fucking reckless can someone be?!

"Okay, you caught me. I might have been a little careless on purpose because I knew getting hurt would mean I get to see you."

"You're an idiot," you scold. "What if you'd gotten yourself hurt more seriously, huh? You won't get to see me at all anymore if you get yourself killed!"

"I wasn't that careless," Bodhi starts, but you're not in the mood to let him calm you down that easily.

"You can't control how badly someone hurts you when you let your guard down," you say. A look at the guilty look on his face has you softening a little. Cupping his cheek, you continue, "I wish we had more time together too, but I'd rather have you in one piece when I do get to see you."

Bodhi sighs. "I know. I'm sorry for being so reckless. Making you worry is the last thing I wanted."

"I know."

You peck his cheek, and reach for a cotton ball and antiseptic to disinfect Bodhi's split lip. He hisses at the sting, but you don't show any mercy until you're sure the cut is clean. A little pain now is better than possibly letting the wound become infected.

Bodhi gives you that adorable look you can never resist, tapping his bottom lip. "Kiss it better?"

You pretend to think about it, pursing your lips even as you want nothing more than to press them to his. "Only if you promise to be more careful," you finally say.

"Promise," he quickly agrees.

A little too quickly.

"I mean it, Bodhi. You've been lucky so far, but broken ribs aren't as harmless as you seem to think. If the fracture is bad enough the broken ends could pierce your lungs and kill you!"

He takes your hands, kissing each of your palms before answering, his voice taking on such serious a tone that you know he really means it when he says, "I'll be more careful. I promise. And I'm really sorry for making you worry about me."

You cup his face in both hands, tilting his head so you can press a soft kiss to his lips.

"Thank you," you mumble, and kiss him again. When he tries to deepen the kiss into something hungrier, you pull back, mindful of the cut in his lip. You rub your thumb over it, a slight smile on your own lips. "Careful, love, or it'll start bleeding again."

"Worth it," Bodhi shrugs and tries to kiss you again, pouting when you stop him with a finger over his mouth.

"Nuh-uh. Let it heal a little, then you can kiss me all you want on our date tomorrow."

"One more kiss," he pleads. "Just a little one."

You peck his lips one, two, three more times, finally forcing yourself to take a step back.

"I'll be in trouble if someone notices how long I'm taking with you," you say apologetically. "There's other patients requiring my attention."

Bodhi nods. "Right. I'll leave you to it, then."

"Not so fast." You push him back into his seat, turning to search through a shelf until you find the little ceramic container of pills you're looking for. You hand it to Bodhi, along with the ointment you'd applied to his ribs. "Here. Take one of these if the pain gets too bad. You can have up to three a day, but never less than five hours apart, okay?"

"Got it. Thanks."

"You can be generous with the cooling salve, but you'll probably only need it the first few days. It's only a small fracture, so it shouldn't give you too much trouble, but you do need to take it easy for a bit. Do not give me that look, Durran. If you overexert yourself that'll only make it heal slower."

"I know, I know. But I can still participate in challenges and stuff, right?"

You sigh. "I'd appreciate it if you took a day or two to actually rest, without sparring or any form of physical activity, but after that, yes. It should be fine, so long as you don't overdo it."

"I'll take it easy," Bodhi promises.

"And make sure you get enough sleep. Sleep is essential for your body's ability to heal itself, just like good nutrition." Smiling, you add, "You can drop by next week so I can check the healing progress."

Bodhi smiles back, and, rising to his feet, steals another kiss. "Sounds good. Then I'll stop distracting you from your work now. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

[brattyfics]

Not So Secret Santa

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Summary: Eve Dillard’s favorite holiday has lost its sparkle since a painful breakup, leaving her to navigate another lonely Christmas. But when a familiar snow globe from a secret admirer resurfaces, she’s drawn back into the past. The gift leads her to reconnect with Terry Richmond, a high school friend and long-lost crush who’s returned from military service. As their reunion stirs up old feelings, Eve is reminded of the magic of the season and the possibility of rediscovered love.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Holiday Rom-Com Coded

Word Count: 11K+

2024

Christmas had always been Eve Dillard’s favorite time of year.

The cold winter nights were perfect for curling up with a steaming mug of hot chocolate, the scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and fresh pine wrapping around Eve like a warm hug. Dressed in her favorite cozy pajamas, she'd let the crackling gas fireplace set the mood while losing herself in the comfort of holiday classics. Christmas wasn’t just a season for Eve—it was part of her identity. Her parents had named her after the holiday, and her siblings carried that same festive spirit in their names: Joy, Noelle, and their baby brother, Emmanuelle.

In the Dillard house, Christmas was magic.

Her mother, Diane Dillard, always turned every room into a wonderland, filling it with sparkling ornaments and twinkling lights. The family hosted a Christmas Eve party that felt like a reunion, with friends and family gathered around a table full of treats: rich red velvet cake, fudgy brownies, and the smoothest frosted pound cake you could imagine. Eve and her siblings would stay up late decorating gingerbread houses, listening to the grown folks talk. Those late nights became a tradition that grounded her in the best kind of holiday joy.

But after Eve turned twenty-five, things started to shift.

Five Christmases ago, her on-again, off-again high school sweetheart, Keith, had shattered her heart. She’d tried to move on, ventured back into the dating scene, but each attempt ended in disappointment. With each passing holiday season, dating felt like an even more hopeless endeavor. The men in her age range were either already in relationships or still out here playing games with women’s hearts. Unfortunately, Christmas had become a cold reminder of what she didn’t have. 

Her siblings were all paired off—her two sisters had married solid, loving men and were chasing toddlers around the house. Even her baby brother had popped the question and was planning his wedding. And her parents? Their love was still as strong as ever, evident in the flirtatious teasing and laughter that echoed through the house whenever they bickered. There she was, the odd one out, especially during the holidays, when it seemed like everyone else was wrapped up in their own love stories.

Now, Christmas felt like a series of awkward work parties and forced smiles, nothing like the fun she remembered. If it wasn’t her aunties grilling her about meeting someone new, it was her cousins teasing her about her “bad luck” with men. The office celebrations, planned weeks ahead so coworkers could celebrate before their holiday leave, left the season feeling drawn out and exhausting. By the time Christmas Day arrived, the festivities felt stale, and Eve found herself just going through the motions, making polite conversation while secretly wishing she could fast-forward to January.

This year, things had gotten even more vexing—Eve had drawn Malik from IT for Secret Santa. Malik wasn’t bad to look at, but he spent more time flirting with every woman in the office than actually doing his job. His antics were enough to make Eve roll her eyes, turning the already-dreaded gift exchange into yet another holiday hurdle. Eventually, she settled on a simple set of pens and a plain notebook—safe, practical, and totally forgettable.

Even as she wrapped the gift, Eve felt the weight of monotony. With no new work crushes or dating prospects to look forward to, Eve’s workdays blurred together—endless paperwork, the same beige-gray office walls, and another holiday season passing in a haze of office chatter. It was easy to tune it all out, to just go through the motions. But then the day came—the day for the office gift exchange

“This one’s for Eve!” Ms. Ruby, the vibrant office manager, called out with her signature enthusiasm. At a proud seventy years young, Ms. Ruby was a force of nature, always stepping into the office with bold, jazzy outfits that matched her lively personality. “A gift from my husband, going on forty-something years strong!” she’d say with a wink whenever someone admired her latest accessory. Mr. Charles was forever splurging on a new costume jewelry set or a fresh pair of colorful shoes, each piece a reflection of his love for her style.

Eve rose from her seat, accepting the green gift bag with a polite smile. Maybe she’d never have a husband of forty-something years who appreciated her inside and out, but at least someone had remembered her favorite color. As she pulled back the tissue paper, her fingers brushed against something smooth and solid nestled inside.

When she lifted the delicate snow globe, Eve’s breath caught in her throat. Inside was a Black princess, a tiny crown perched on her head, surrounded by glittering snowflakes—just like the one she’d had as a child but lost during her senior year of high school.

"Oh my god!" Eve exclaimed, her voice filled with surprise and joy. She looked around the room, eyes sparkling. "Who got me this? I love it!" Her gaze swept across her coworkers, but everyone just shrugged, their smiles barely containing their amusement. Eve's eyes locked with Ms. Ruby’s, who wore a knowing smirk, as if she were in on some secret.

Whoever had chosen this gift had clearly gone to great lengths—it hadn’t been made in nearly twenty years. Who knew her well enough to find something so perfect? Who cared enough to hunt down something so meaningful? She dug through the bag for a card, hoping to find a name, but there was only a blank tag.

She shook the globe, and her eyes lit up as the snowflakes swirled around the princess. But then, tucked underneath it, a flash of highlighter pink caught her eye. She picked up the sticky note, the handwriting oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place it right away: 

I hope you like this gift. It was difficult to find, but seeing you smile will be worth it. From your secret admirer.

Eve scanned the room again, but no one said a word—not even Malik, who was wearing that same smug grin of his. Have I ever seen his handwriting? she wondered, cringing at the thought of him being her secret Santa. Still, the gift was too thoughtful to dismiss, and she couldn't help but feel touched. “Whoever did this, thank you so much,” she said, her voice sincere. “This is honestly the best gift I could’ve gotten.”

The mystery lingered with Eve throughout the rest of the day. She couldn’t help but keep glancing around, half-expecting someone to fess up about being her Secret Santa, but no one did. Eventually, she wandered over to Ruby’s desk, hoping for a clue.

“That defeats the whole point of Secret Santa, baby,” Ms. Ruby said with a laugh, shaking her head as she shuffled through some papers.

Eve leaned casually against the back of Ruby's ergonomic chair. "It's only a secret 'til the gift’s out the bag, Ms. Ruby," she teased. “You already went and told everybody else’s Secret Santa. What’s so special about mine?”

Ms. Ruby glanced up from her stack of paperwork, her eyes twinkling with mischief before she moved quicker than Eve could have expected, swatting her lightly on the behind with the pile of papers.

“Ms. Ruby!” Eve yelped, jumping to the side, a surprised laugh escaping her lips.

“I told you to leave me be so I can get some work done!” Ms. Ruby shooed her away, her lips curling into a mock-serious frown. Eve didn’t have to look twice to know the older woman was more about looking busy than actually doing any paperwork. Working was just her way of staying active—keeping her mind sharp, like the rest of her.

As Eve turned to walk away, she grinned, rolling her eyes. “That woman’s a whole mess,” she murmured under her breath, her lips curling in affection despite herself.

Thoughts of her mysterious Secret Santa stayed with Eve the whole way home, nagging at her while she threw together a quick dinner and cleaned the kitchen. She couldn’t help but replay the moment she’d opened the snow globe, trying to figure out who had picked it out for her. But by the time she’d showered and got comfortable for the evening, her mind had wandered to other things—like what outfit she was going to rock on Christmas Day. She was ready to stunt a little, show her cousins what being childless did for her pockets and her closet.

By the time Eve got to work the next morning, she’d managed to push the mystery to the back of her mind. That is, until she sat down at her desk and spotted another sticky note with that same, familiar handwriting:

I’m glad you liked the gift. I knew it’d bring that beautiful smile of yours to life. If you're wondering who's behind it, I’d love to show you. Meet me for lunch at 1:00 PM—there’s a new spot two blocks down, and I’ve got us a table. Hope you can make it, Eve.

Eve bit her bottom lip, torn between caution and curiosity. Meeting someone like this, all wrapped in mystery, didn’t exactly feel safe or smart. Why all the secrecy? Why leave notes instead of just saying it out loud? How did they know about her smile without even being there? Could her Secret Santa have been watching from the shadows all along, without ever revealing themselves? The thought sent a chill down her spine. But in the end, curiosity won out.

Eve made sure to let Ms. Ruby know where she’d be and when to expect her back. Ms. Ruby’s knowing smile eased her nerves just enough as she stepped out into the brisk winter air, the chill nipping at her cheeks. 

As she walked to the restaurant, Eve quickly texted her siblings the details—just to be safe. She wasn’t taking any chances, especially with the mystery hanging over her head.

When she stepped inside the restaurant, her gloved hands folded nervously in front of her, she took in the cozy ambiance. Soft R&B holiday classics played in the background, and the space glowed with candlelight and pine-scented garlands. Couples leaned in close, lost in their own world. Eve hesitated, feeling self-conscious standing alone at the entrance, until a young waitress approached her with a warm, welcoming smile.

"Are you Eve?"

Eve blinked, startled for a moment. "Yeah, that's me."

"Come on, I’ll show you to your table."

With a mix of curiosity and just a touch of apprehension, Eve followed the waitress further into the restaurant. “Where are we headed?” she asked, doing her best to keep her nerves in check.

“There’s a private area in the back,” the waitress replied with a friendly smile, leading her behind a velvet curtain. Despite the uneasy flutter in her chest, Eve pushed her doubts aside. She wasn’t about to turn back now after coming this far.

On the other side of the curtain, a single table was set up in the center of a cozy, golden-lit room. Sitting there, dressed in a crisp button-down shirt and slacks, was a man she hadn’t seen in what felt like ages. His rich honey-brown skin practically glowed in the soft light, and those blue-green eyes of his, sparkling with that same familiar warmth, made her heart skip a beat.

“Terry?” she whispered, the disbelief clear in her voice.

He stood, tall as she remembered, and before she knew it, she was in his arms. She jumped up, and he caught her easily, holding her close as she clung tightly to his neck

“It’s been way too long!” Eve exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over as Terry lifted her off her feet, giving her a playful shake before setting her back down. The little girl inside her couldn’t help but squeal.

"Far too long," Terry agreed, his eyes softening as he met her gaze, holding her just a moment longer than necessary before gently lowering her back to the ground.

Eve slapped his arm, still grinning. "What are you doing here? When did you get back?"

“You haven’t changed a bit, Eve—still running that mouth a mile a minute,” Terry teased, his grin wide as he motioned for her to take a seat. Eve sank into the chair, but her gaze stayed locked on him, still struggling to believe he was really here.

They’d been close since childhood, but after graduation, Terry had enlisted in the Marines, and keeping in touch had been impossible. First, it was radio silence during boot camp, then sporadic updates as he climbed the ranks. Meanwhile, she’d dived into her studies, focused on finishing college and earning her degree, though thoughts of him had never been far from her mind. Every time she tried to reach out, something always got in the way.

Eve found herself momentarily frozen, taking in the scent of his cologne and the sharp look of his neatly styled short Afro. "You look good, Terry," she said, though the word "good" didn’t even come close to doing him justice. He’d filled out in all the right places, his frame broader than she remembered. It was clear the Marines had only made him more disciplined, more focused. The tall, lean teenager she remembered had transformed into a man who was clearly all grown up, his muscular build a testament to the years he'd spent shaping himself.

"You look even better." His gaze swept over her, making her pulse race. Eve couldn’t help the flutter in her chest, but she quickly shook it off. She’d grown into her own as well—filled out, gotten more comfortable in her skin, and her acne-prone days were long behind her. But this was Terry. He didn’t see her that way, and she was far too grown to be stuck on an old crush.

"So, for real, what brings you back home?" she asked, forcing herself to focus on the present.

"I'm done with the service now. Retired," Terry said with a shrug. "Figured it was time to come back home, settle down, and start a new chapter. Everyone I care about is here, so it felt like the right place to make it happen."

"Your mama must be over the moon!"

“Over the moon is an understatement,” he chuckled, the edges of his voice softening. “She wanted to throw me a big welcome-back party, but I told her I’d rather reconnect with folks one-on-one.”

"Well, I’m glad I made the list," Eve grinned. "I ran into your mom a few weeks ago, and she didn’t say anything about you coming back!"

Terry smirked. "She didn’t know yet. Can’t give her too much notice, or she’ll have the whole block—and probably folks from here to California—waiting to meet me at the airport." He chuckled, the sound rich and familiar, making Eve feel that comforting pull of home she didn’t even realize she’d been missing.

Eve burst out laughing. "My mama’s the same way! I hear her on the phone all the time, talking about me like, ‘Evie’s still single, y’all; I guess she’s waiting on Jesus.’" She mimicked her mother’s voice so spot-on it had Terry cracking up.

“What happened with ol’ boy—what was his name again?” Terry teased, pretending to forget. Eve shook her head, rolling her eyes.

“You mean Keith? We called it quits a while ago.”

“What happened? I thought y’all were gonna be the next Barack and Michelle?”

Eve laughed, the humor hitting her differently now. “Life happened. It just wasn’t meant to be, and I’m good with that.” She wasn’t about to dive into the gory details. She’d healed and moved on. Keith was a chapter she’d closed long ago.

“You were way too good for him, anyway.” Eve’s heart skipped a beat, and she wasn’t prepared for the warmth that spread through her at his words.

She raised an eyebrow, suddenly piecing everything together. “Wait a minute—don’t tell me you were the one behind those secret admirer notes?”

“Guilty as charged,” Terry said with a grin. “Figured I owed you a snow globe after all these years.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You took my snow globe? I looked everywhere for that thing!”

“I didn’t take it,” Terry admitted, a guilty grin tugging at his lips. “But I did break it.”

Eve gasped, her hand flying to her chest as though he’d confessed to a grand crime. “You broke it?”

“It was an accident!” Terry quickly added, his chuckles softening the blow. “Your dad called you downstairs, and I got a little too close to the shelf. Next thing I know—glass shattering, glitter flying—everything was on the floor.”

Eve laughed, shaking her head, already picturing her younger self stomping around in frustration. But now, the whole situation seemed almost too ridiculous not to laugh about. “How’d you manage to hide it from me?”

“I cleaned it up quick and grabbed a towel from your bathroom. It was fine—except for the glitter. That stuff was everywhere—on the floor, on my hands. But since you never said anything, I figured I got away with it.”

“Terry Richmond,” Eve said with a playful squint, “You’re a whole mess!”

“But I made it right, didn’t I?” His smile was a slow, satisfied curve, his blue-green eyes sparkling with the joy of being so close to her again. “And when I saw that look on your face—”

“Wait, hold up,” Eve interrupted, her eyes narrowing playfully, “You were there yesterday?”

"Guess I forgot to mention it. We're coworkers now. I’m the head of security," He leaned back, his eyes locking with hers. "Been around, making sure everything’s tight," he added with a half-smile. He didn’t mention how he'd been keeping an eye on her from the cameras, just to make sure she was safe from all those corporate threats: staples, paper cuts, and heavy boxes…you know, the dangerous stuff. "It might sound crazy, but I couldn’t come at you until I knew I had made things right between us."

“That damn snow globe,” she mused, a smile tugging at her lips. Who would’ve thought her favorite childhood trinket would be the thing that brought her favorite person back? She reached out, taking his hands across the table. “I would’ve been glad to see you, no matter what.” He squeezed her hands, remembering the nervous flutter in his chest when he’d placed his bid on that snow globe. He wanted her to have it, and he didn’t hold back. “I know. But you deserve that—and so much more.”

Eve rolled her eyes playfully, though there was a flicker of something else in her gaze. “Cut it out with the compliments,” she teased, leaning back in her seat. “I’m gonna be walking around with a big head at this rate.”

“You already got a big—”

“—Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Terrence.”

They slipped into a comfortable rhythm, their banter flowing like it had never skipped a beat. It felt like no time had passed at all, like he’d never left and she’d never hidden the soft spot she’d always had for him. It was clear he still didn’t realize how deep her feelings for him ran. Still, something told her this Christmas was going to be one she’d never forget.

“We should do this again sometime,” Terry suggested as they walked back to the office, his tone casual but the hint of something more lingering in the air.

“Definitely,” Eve replied, but her thoughts drifted back to the past, to all the things she’d buried. The what-ifs. The could-have-beens. For now, though, she was content. Whatever this was, it was enough—for now.

“How about tonight?” Terry surprised her, his voice bringing her back to the moment. “We could grab some dinner, or I can bring something over. You still love that fried rice from Gogi Grill, right?” He grinned, already knowing the answer. Eve had always been a creature of habit when it came to good food. She stopped in her tracks, a smile spreading across her face. “I can’t believe you remember! Of course I still love their fried rice.” She stressed the word love, making sure he heard it loud and clear. “And the—”

“—vegetable spring rolls. Yeah, I know.”

“That sounds so good.” she grinned, feeling a spark of excitement.

“What time works for you?” he asked, already getting his phone out. “I’ll bring it all.”

“Eight?” she replied, figuring that gave her just enough time to get home, unwind, and freshen up.

“I’ll be there at eight. Let me get your phone so I can save my number, and you can text me your new address.”

They walked back toward her desk, and Terry promised to see her later. The rest of the afternoon dragged, Eve barely getting any work done as her mind wandered, fixated on what was coming next. The second five o'clock hit, she nearly bolted out of the office. At home, she was a whirlwind—tidying, organizing, putting everything in order. By the time the doorbell rang, she had just slipped into a comfy graphic tee and yoga pants. No need to impress him—this was Terry.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” she greeted with a grin, stretching her arms wide as Terry’s gaze swept over her. She almost convinced herself she was imagining it.

“Feel free to bring the food to the living room. I’ve got plates and bean bags set up if that’s cool with you.”

“Works for me,” Terry replied, setting down the bags of food. As he dished out their plates, she grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge, uncorking it and pouring them each a glass.

“You still watch those cheesy romance flicks?” Terry teased, flipping through the channels with a smirk.

“No,” she replied a little too quickly, though, she definitely did.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You don’t have to front for me. I know you too well.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’re right. Can’t hide anything from you.” They eventually landed on a BET romance about a doctor secretly in love with his best friend, and Eve couldn’t help but notice the irony of it all. She thought about asking him to change the channel but decided against it, instead letting out a long sigh, a wave of longing she couldn’t quite explain washing over her.

“What’s wrong?” Terry’s voice softened with concern.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, trying to brush it off, but his eyes told her he wasn’t buying it.

“Something’s on your mind,” he pressed gently. “Is it the food? Or something else?”

“Definitely not the food,” Eve answered, “I guess I’m just not feelin’ the movie. It’s... a little too cheesy, even for me.” Normally, these kinds of stories made her feel all warm and fuzzy, but tonight, it just hit differently—like a reminder of the things she might never have, especially with the man she’d always wanted sitting right next to her, still oblivious to her feelings.

���Really? I think it’s kind of sweet,” he said, and Eve froze mid-bite.

“Sweet? What’s gotten into you?” she teased, her eyebrows arched.

He shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “When you like it, it’s romantic. But when I do, something’s gotta be wrong?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Man, every time I made you watch one of these back in the day, you complained the whole time,” she teased, her smirk growing.

“That was a long time ago. I was just a kid then. I’m a grown man now,” he shot back, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.

She looked him over, feeling the weight of his words in a way she hadn’t expected. “Alright, grown man,” she teased, trying to mask the sudden shift in her chest. “Guess it just threw me off, that’s all.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, his tone a little more challenging now.

“Because you were never the romantic type,” she said, but even as the words left her mouth, her heart couldn’t help but wonder if that had changed.

“How do you know that?” he shot back, his question hanging in the air like it meant something more. Eve felt a small pang in her chest. Maybe it was silly, but Terry always had a way of getting under her skin.

“I guess I don’t know, Terry,” she admitted quietly. “You’re right. I wouldn’t know what kind of romantic you are. You’ve always treated me like family.” The last words came out with a little more weight than she intended, a quiet bitterness lingering at the edges of her voice. She didn’t want to admit it, but it still stung.

Terry leaned in a little closer, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity she wasn’t used to. “Only because I didn’t know how to be romantic back then,” he said, his voice dropping to something more vulnerable. “Didn’t know how to flirt, didn’t know how to say what I felt.”

Her breath caught, a sudden heat creeping up her neck as he continued, his voice lower now, more serious. “I treated you the only way I knew how. Walked you home every day, carried your bag, made sure to save some of my mama’s fried dumplings for you. It might not have been flowers or poems, but I thought I was making it clear.”

Eve blinked, feeling the floor beneath her shift. “Terry, what are you saying?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, but her mind was already racing—was he really saying what she thought he was?

“I always liked you, Evie. Always,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I thought... I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

Her cheeks flushed deep, a rush of heat flooding her face at his words. The weight of the confession hit her in waves, stirring up feelings she'd buried for so long. "That’s not true. I was into you, too—really into you."

Terry’s eyes widened with surprise, a small smile breaking through as he processed her words. “But you were with Keith. You got engaged.” He’d seen the engagement photos on social media, and it had torn him up inside. Took everything not to call her phone and tell her she was making a mistake. But he’d convinced himself that the right thing to do would be to step back and let her find happiness without him.

She exhaled slowly, her throat tight with emotion. "He asked me to be his girlfriend... and later, to marry him. At the time, I thought it was what I was supposed to do. You were gone, and I didn’t think I’d ever get a chance to tell you how I really felt," she said, her voice quieter now, as if the words were heavy. "I convinced myself that if I just moved on, I could forget you."

“Are you telling me,” Terry’s laugh was low, almost incredulous, but there was a warmth behind it—like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “that we both felt this way all along, and I just didn’t see it?”

Eve let out a breath, trying to steady herself. “Yeah, Terry. I think we both did.”

“Evie,” he began, his voice soft, almost reverent. His hand reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers—a touch so light it made her heart stutter. “All these years…” Her breath hitched. She didn’t pull back, but she wasn’t sure how to step forward either. 

Memories flooded her mind, sharp and vivid as if they’d happened yesterday—walking home together in the rain, Terry draping his jacket over her head to protect her crown. Splitting a basket of wings at the local chicken spot after school, making do with whatever change they could scrape together. His loud, carefree laugh always chasing away her bad days, like he could make the world feel right again without even trying. Those moments weren’t just the past, they were the foundation of everything they’d ever been. Terry had always been there, steady as sunrise, holding it down in ways she didn’t know how to name back then. 

His thumb brushed the back of her hand, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of her skin. He leaned in just a little, his gaze searching hers, the air between them thick with longing. “Evie,” he whispered, his voice gentle but heavy with desire. “Can I kiss you?”

Her eyes flickered down to his lips before she gave a subtle nod. 

With a tenderness that made her heart race, Terry cupped her face in his hands and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. They were softer than he’d imagined, and she let out a breathy sigh that sent a wave of warmth through him. His hands slid down her sides, settling on her hips with a gentle squeeze as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She tasted sweet, like dark chocolate and candy canes—the kind of holiday goodies she loved, and now he couldn’t help but love them, too. Pulling away slowly, his gaze softened, serious now. “Evie, I’m not looking for something temporary. I want something real. Something lasting. Not just for the holidays or a good time.”He let the words hang in the air, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. “This—us—I don't want it to be just another chapter in my life.”

"Terry," Eve whispered, her hand resting gently on his chest before sliding up to cup his face. "This is a lot… all at once. Before we go any further, I need to know we’re really on the same page." Her voice trembled slightly, her guard creeping back up. It wasn’t easy learning to trust again, to let her heart stay open after everything she’d been through. And with Terry... there was no way her heart wouldn’t get tangled up in this. As much as he hated the idea of stepping back, Terry understood where she was coming from. She wasn’t wrong—they had too much history to rush into something without thinking it through. Their lives were intertwined in so many ways: mutual friends, their parents practically family. He nodded, his voice steady and sincere. “I hear you, Evie. I got you. We’ll take this slow—whatever feels right for you.”

In the days that followed, Terry found any excuse to be around Eve. He’d joke about “checking the perimeter” at work, but really, he just wanted to be near her—catching glimpses of her at her desk, looking effortlessly stunning in those blue-light blocking glasses and preppy business casual outfits. He’d leave her little treats—those chocolate “kisses” she couldn’t resist—and sticky notes filled with jokes or random facts to make her smile. And sometimes, he'd offer to grab office supplies for her, like highlighters or paper clips, even though she could easily pick them up herself. It was his way of staying close, of showing her that he was there.

His presence didn’t go unnoticed. The women in the office—Ms. Ruby especially—seemed to flock to Eve’s desk, trying to catch a glimpse of Terry, pretending they needed something just for the chance to see him up close.

“I’m gonna tell Mr. Charles on you,” Eve teased Ms. Ruby one morning, grinning.

“What he don’t know won’t hurt him, baby,” Ms. Ruby shot back with a wink, fanning herself as she smirked. “I’m just lookin’. Ain’t no harm in that.”

Eve and Terry started syncing their lunches, making sure to carve out time outside of the office to be together. Eve introduced him to her favorite local deli, where he quickly became hooked on the sandwiches and pasta salad. One afternoon, they shared a plate of injera at an Ethiopian restaurant while Terry told stories about an Ethiopian guy he’d served with, their laughter filling the space between them as they reconnected and deepened their bond. Throughout it all, Terry was the perfect gentleman—opening doors, pulling out her chair, and offering her bites of whatever he was eating, especially when they ordered different dishes. It was those little moments, the simple kindness in his gestures, that made her heart swell and open to the possibility of a real future with him.

Even though Terry was crashing at his mom’s place until he found his own, most evenings, he was at hers. They’d curl up on her couch, the TV left forgotten as they lost themselves in each other—kissing, cuddling, fingers tracing over bare skin. No distractions, no rush—just being together. On those nights, Terry shared more stories from his time in the service, each one peeling back another layer of the man she was just beginning to rediscover. In return, she recounted the ups and downs of her college years—laughing over the good times and the challenges. She filled him in on her sisters, Joy and Noelle, and how they had both started families of their own. They laughed about how her brother, Emmanuelle, still couldn’t resist sticking his nose into everyone’s business, despite being engaged to the woman of his dreams.

Terry told her about his mom—how much she’d been enjoying having him back at home. She’d been lonely since his dad passed, and had tried to fill that void with "friends" who never quite measured up to Terry Sr. Eve could hear the love and concern in his voice, the way he cared for his mom’s well-being, even as he juggled his own life. Life hadn’t slowed down while they’d been apart, but now, with Terry back in her life, everything felt like it was falling into place.

Moving forward together felt just right, so Eve invited Terry and his mom, Gloria, to join her family for Christmas. It had been three whirlwind weeks since the Secret Santa exchange, but she couldn’t imagine celebrating her favorite holiday without him. Her mom was overjoyed to hear that Terry was back in town, and her dad—true to his warm, welcoming nature—was all for it, always saying, the more, the merrier. Gloria didn’t hesitate to accept, admitting it had been far too long since she’d seen the Dillards and even longer since she’d enjoyed a big family Christmas.

When Christmas Eve finally arrived, the doorbell rang, and Eve opened it to find Terry standing on the porch, holding a foil-covered pan in one hand and shrink-wrapped sweet potato pies in the other. He looked as handsome as ever, dressed in a cream-colored cashmere sweater and navy blue slacks. Beside him, his mother, Gloria, was glowing—decked out in a vibrant red outfit with jingle bell earrings that softly jingled as she smiled warmly.

The sight of them, so full of the holiday spirit, made Eve’s heart swell with warmth.

“You didn’t have to bring anything, Ms. Gloria!” Eve said, smiling brightly.

“I always bake too many pies, baby, you know that,” Gloria replied with a wink. “At least they won’t go to waste this year.”

Eve chuckled, stepping aside to let them in. The moment the door swung closed, a mouthwatering scent filled the air, rich with the familiar, savory spices that brought her back to her childhood. Her eyes landed on the pan in Terry’s hands. “And what’s that?” she asked, voice filled with eager curiosity.

“What you think?” Terry grinned.

“Fried dumplings?”

“Fried up just the way you like them—crispy and golden,” he confirmed.

Eve couldn’t help herself—she did a little happy dance right there in the doorway, which sent Gloria into a fit of laughter.

“I made them just for you, sweet girl,” Gloria said, grinning. “I remember how much you loved these back in the day.”

“You’re the best, Ms. Gloria,” Eve said, pulling her into a tight hug. “Not a crumb of this is going to waste, I swear.”

Before Gloria could respond, a loud, familiar voice rang out from deeper inside the house. “Richmond!” Eve’s brother, Emmanuelle, appeared in the hallway, grinning wide. He made his way over to Terry, pulling him into a big, tight hug and giving him a friendly slap on the back. Terry adjusted the pan in his hand, leaning into the embrace. “Man, where you been at?”

Terry smirked, taking in the scene. “Right where I’m supposed to be, I guess.”

“Well, good to see you back, bro. Ain’t nobody here that can keep up with me on Uno except you.”

Emmanuelle’s loud greeting drew the rest of the family in like a magnet. Within moments, the entire Dillard crew had swarmed around Terry, wrapping him in hugs, back slaps, and warm greetings from every direction. Eve’s dad pulled him into a big rocking hug, her mom gave his shoulders a quick, affectionate pat, and her sisters squeezed him between chasing their toddlers, who zipped around the living room like little caffeinated elves, clearly hyped up on holiday treats. Terry soaked it all in. The Dillard house had always been full of life, and it was a relief to see that hadn’t changed. Some things were different, sure, but the love and warmth that mattered most were just the same.

“Let me take that off your hands, bruh,” Emmanuelle said, reaching for the pan. “I’ll put it with the rest of the food.”

“Uh-uh!” Eve cut in, snatching the pan before he could touch it. “You’re not slick.”

“Slick?” Emmanuelle raised a brow. “Girl, you that greedy? You can’t even trust me to take a pan to the kitchen?”

“I can’t trust you, period,” Eve shot back. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned in close. “Especially when I know you helped break my snow globe.”

Emmanuelle’s face twisted as he tried to recall what she was talking about.

“I know it was you,” she added, her eyes narrowing.

He smirked and turned to Terry. “You told her, man?”

Terry chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t say a word. You just outed yourself.” He hadn’t revealed that he was shoved into the shelf, choosing to shield the younger man from being implicated in the "crime."

Emmanuelle shook his head, laughing. “That’s foul, sis. You really out here holding on to something from a over decade ago just to call me out? You oughta be ashamed. All this over some food? You that greedy?”

“I have to be!” Eve shot back. “I’ve been dealing with you my whole life. Ashley, I don’t know how you handle this man. He’s been eating entire meals by himself since he was ten.”

Ashley, Emmanuelle’s fiancé, strolled by, tossing her husband a look. “Girl, I just cook double and call it a day.” The room erupted into laughter as the family buzzed around them, settling into the lively chaos that made Christmas at the Dillard house unforgettable.

An hour later, everyone gathered around the table, plates piled high with Christmas Eve dishes: smothered chicken over rice, cabbage cooked with bacon, buttery rolls, and generous helpings of Ms. Gloria’s Carribbean spiced dumplings. The real feast—the honey-glazed ham, collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, smoked turkey, and sautéed okra—was waiting for Christmas Day. But tonight, this was more than enough. They joined hands and bowed their heads as the family prayed, offering blessings for their health, happiness, and the year to come.

“So, Terry, when’d you get back, bruh?” Emmanuelle asked, already halfway through a second helping of chicken and rice.

“Been about seven weeks. Almost two months now,” Terry replied, taking a sip of sweet tea.

“What?” Emmanuelle looked up, fork in midair. “Why ain’t I seen you yet?”

“I’ve been laying low,” Terry said. “Getting used to civilian life again.”

Emmanuelle turned to Eve with a mock-serious expression. “Evie, why didn’t you tell me my boy was back?”

She shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I didn’t even know he was back until a couple of weeks ago."

From the corner of her eye, Eve noticed her sisters straightening up, ears clearly tuned in. She knew that look—they smelled tea brewing. When she didn’t respond right away, Emmanuelle leaned in, fanning the flames.

“How’d y’all reconnect anyway?” he asked, eyes narrowed playfully.

Eve cleared her throat, keeping her tone light but firm. “We work together now.”

That should’ve been the end of it, but she could see her brother’s curiosity growing. The last thing she needed was for her family to get too nosy about her and Terry. It wasn’t that she was hiding anything, but it was still too early for outside opinions to complicate things.

“Oh, okay, so you saw him at the office,” Emmanuelle said, smirking. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why are you grilling me, E-Man?” Eve shot back, raising a brow.

“Grilling? I’m just asking questions!”

“Terry, what are you doing at the company?” her mom, Diane, chimed in, cutting through the sibling banter.

“Security,” Terry replied, pausing to wipe his mouth. “Keeping the building safe and making sure everything runs smooth.”

Joy, one of Eve’s sisters, leaned back with a sly smile. “Didn’t know the corporate world was so dangerous,” she teased, sipping her spiked sweet tea. “Bet all the ladies in the office are feeling extra secure with you around."

Eve shot her a warning look, but Terry didn’t flinch.

“It’s not really about danger,” he explained. “It’s more about protecting sensitive info. Everything’s a target these days.” He paused, letting his words settle as he caught the curious looks around the table. “But it’s a good change of pace from the military. I like it. Plus, I’m saving up to start my own private security firm someday. I want to give other brothers coming out of the service a chance to transition into something solid. Help them find their footing again.”

The table went quiet for a moment, the weight of his words settling over them.

“That’s solid, bro,” Emmanuelle said, giving a nod of approval. “We need more folks doing that. Respect, man.”

Eve caught herself smiling at him, a quiet pride swelling inside her as she watched how effortlessly he commanded respect from everyone at the table. She’d seen it in the weeks since they’d reconnected—the way his presence shifted the energy in any room. People either stepped aside or flocked to him, drawn to his quiet confidence. He set the tone, and it was so damn attractive. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice how the affection lighting up her face hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the room.

“Well, are you single, Terry?” her father, Ed, asked without missing a beat. He’d always had a feeling there was something between his little Eve and the Richmond boy. He’d sensed it even back when Terry was still too young and unsure to act on it. But the man sitting in front of him now was someone he could respect—someone he could trust with his baby girl.

“Dad!” Eve protested, her face flushing. But before she could say another word, Gloria, Terry’s mom, jumped in with a playful grin.

“He sure is!” Gloria chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Terry shot his mom a look of surprise.

“Really?” Diane, Eve’s mom, asked, raising an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Eve’s siblings were doing their best to hide their snickering. Eve’s little niece sat on Noelle’s lap, eyes wide, watching the exchange with interest.

“You know, Evie’s single too,” Diane added with a knowing smile, leaning back in her chair, clearly enjoying herself.

“Mommy—”

“I’m just saying, baby,” Diane said, holding her hands up in mock innocence. The room fell into an expectant silence, all eyes locked on them.

Eve shot Terry a look, shaking her head. Their families just couldn’t resist stirring the pot. She thought, Black folks and their matchmaking. Terry grinned and casually draped an arm over the back of her chair, giving her a look that said, Forget it. Might as well lean into it now. Several sets of eyes snapped in their direction, keen to catch every little moment.

Eve and Terry exchanged a quiet glance, a wordless conversation passing between them before she finally decided to rip the Band-Aid off. “Well, since you’re all in my business,” Eve said with a sigh, “Terry and I have been seeing each other. Just a little while, though. We’re taking it slow.”

It was like a buzzer went off at a championship basketball game—everyone erupted with hoots, hollers, and excited chatter.

“I knew it!”

“Talking ‘bout I’m not slick– girl, you not slick!”

“That’s why she been dodging my calls!”

Terry’s mom elbowed him playfully, her face lighting up with a grin. “Why you didn’t tell me, baby?” She’d suspected something was up with all the late hours he had been keeping, but she’d kept quiet, not wanting to push him too fast. Now, though, seeing the joy on his face, she couldn’t help but be happy for them. 

Terry looked at his mom, his expression softening as he took in her beaming face. It had been too long since he’d seen her this genuinely happy. He gently covered her hand with his own. “We’re still getting to know each other again, Mama. Taking it slow, ‘cause we want to do it right. Didn’t want to tell anyone too soon, or get your hopes up, just in case.”

“It’ll work out,” Gloria said with a smile that was both warm and knowing. “You’re just like your daddy—considerate, kind, protective, dependable. You’re a good man. Anybody would be lucky to have you in their life. And Eve, she’s a great girl. The best, if you ask me. She knows you for who you are, flaws and all. She’s solid, knows herself, and she’s the kind of woman you want by your side. Y’all can make it work, if you both want to…”

Terry’s gaze drifted to the back of Eve’s head as she laughed and talked with her family, fully in her element. It was magnetic. He couldn’t help but think, She’s the one.

“…and I suspect you do.”

Eve caught snippets of the conversation between Terry and her mom, her own voice blending with the chatter around her. “Yeah, mama, we’ll make it,” she heard Terry say, his voice steady, confident.

“You calling it a night after this? Heading home?” Eve asked when her family finally gave her a break from answering questions.

“That wasn’t really the plan.” Terry smirked, his gaze steady on hers. 

Bet, she thought, fighting the urge to grab his hand and tell everyone they were out.

After dinner, they exchanged Christmas Eve gifts with the family. Eve had gotten Terry a new tactical backpack for his camping trips. He’d mentioned before how much he loved getting away to the woods, disconnecting from the world, and reconnecting with nature. She also picked out a cute elephant trinket for his mom, a nod to Ms. Gloria’s sorority, representing strength and resilience. In return, Terry had gifted her parents a beautifully wood-burned sign that read Dillard Family Home. Her parents adored it, and her dad wasted no time putting Terry to work, hanging it up above the door.

Her nieces and nephews tore through their gifts from Uncle Emmanuelle, too big for them to manage on their own, immediately enlisting the adults to help set up toys, insert batteries, and get the noise blasting from their new gadgets. Eve played the dutiful auntie, pitching in to help get the kids settled before she attempted to make a quiet exit, a little earlier than usual.

Her sisters weren’t letting her off that easy, though. They cornered her near the foyer while Terry helped his mom put on her shoes. “No you don’t, girl,” Noelle whispered, with a mischievous grin, while she and Joy surrounded Eve like two sharks on the hunt.

Eve tried to play it cool. “We need to get Ms. Gloria home before it gets too late.”

Joy leaned in close, her voice dripping with teasing. “Girl, please. We already know what’s up. After you drop Ms. Gloria off, you’re gonna be right back with Terry. I been sneaking around long before you even started.”

Eve rolled her eyes, trying to keep it moving while they giggled behind her.

Terry quickly helped his mom settle into her house while Eve sat in the car, fidgeting in the seat, trying to calm the flutter in her chest. When he stepped back outside into the crisp evening air, she reminded herself to get it together. It’s just Terry. 

The whole ride felt charged, the air between them thick with unspoken words, teetering on the edge of something both of them were ready to step into. Eve caught herself stealing glances at Terry, her stomach flipping each time his fingers drummed on the steering wheel or his lips twitched into a half-smile. By the time they reached the family home and she slid into her car, she could barely keep her composure. The drive back to her place was a blur of thoughts, her heartbeat drowning out the soft hum of Christmas music on the radio. Enough. Enough holding back.

When Terry knocked on her door a little while later, she didn’t hesitate. She opened it, grabbed his hand, and pulled him inside. Without a word, she led him to her room. The space was warm and inviting–signature seasonal scents wafted through the air, and a small four-foot tree twinkled in the corner. Low, sultry R&B Christmas classics filled the room, the perfect soundtrack for everything she wasn’t saying.

“Sit,” she murmured, her voice soft but sure, gesturing to the bed. She opened her bedside drawer, pulled out a small gold-foiled packet, and placed it on the comforter beside him. “I know what I want. I want you. I want us.”

She stepped between his legs, loving the way his strong hands explored the curve of her back and sides as their lips met.  She’d had a quick sip of wine while waiting for him, just enough to quiet her nerves. The lingering warmth of it heightened every sensation, making her feel energized and bold. She gently cradled Terry’s head against her chest, her breaths coming soft and uneven as she tried to steady herself.

“I’ve been all in, Eve,” he said, his voice low and unshakable. “Always.”

She let her fingers trail along his warm skin, grounding herself in the reality of him—not just the fantasy she’d kept alive in her mind. Terry was the dangerous kind of handsome, the kind that should come with a warning label. He kissed her softly at first, but his touch grew more demanding and insistent as she shed her clothes. Eve straddled his lap, moving closer, spurred on by the way he held her—like she was precious, worth cherishing, and meant to be kept all to himself.

“You’re safe with me,” Terry promised, his lips brushing her ear. “Always.”

And she believed him. She melted into his touch, surrendering to the intoxicating thrill—and the quiet fear—of letting herself fall. Of trusting. Of daring to believe this could be the start of something real, as he effortlessly flipped them so that he was on top. "Thought about you like this," she admitted softly, helping him lift his shirt over his head to reveal the firm contours of his abdomen. "On top of me, just like this."

Terry's gaze locked on hers, dark and intense. 

“Tell me what else you thought about,” he said, his voice low and coaxing. He wanted her to let whatever she was feeling spill out. Eve was usually guarded, always careful with how much she gave, but now, with him, she didn’t hold back.

She reached down, her fingers curling around his dick through his boxers. "I’ve been thinking about this," she whispered, her voice thick with desire. "What you’d feel like... what it would be like to have you inside me. I’ve waited so long... I almost don’t want to ruin the fantasy." She teased, biting her bottom lip, a playful spark in her eyes. She could feel it—the way that set him on fire. Terry felt his control slipping. Every part of him was primed, ready to unleash it all on her. "Pull it out and see for yourself." 

Eve wrapped both hands around him, her touch slow and deliberate, as her fingers explored every inch. She gasped softly at how hot and heavy he felt, even thicker she had realized. "God," she whispered, feeling her body respond to the sensation of him in her hand. Her mind raced with thoughts of him slapping that fat tip against her clit. She imagined how he’d feel inside her—wondering if he’d be slow and methodical, or more rushed and rough. Either way, she knew she wouldn’t mind.

Above her, Terry’s breath caught as he tugged his boxers down, guiding her hand to him more firmly. His chest rose and fell as his mind tried to stay clear. She glanced up at him with a wicked glint in her eyes. Spitting a thick glob into her hand, she spread it over him with slow, deliberate strokes. Her eyes never left his, watching him unravel under her touch. His face was tight, eyes flickering between her movements and the ceiling as he groaned softly. The sound stirred something deep inside her.

"You want me to take you in my mouth?" she whispered, her voice soft and sweet, as if she were asking the simplest question in the world.

Terry couldn’t respond immediately. His mind was lost in the heat of the moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold on. But when her fingers traced over his balls, kneading them with a slow, firm touch, he couldn’t stop the groan that slipped from his lips. She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his dick, her puckered lips gliding sensually over the slick skin. “It’s so beautiful, baby. Thick, too.” She giggled, enjoying the way his hips stuttered when she tongued the leaky tip.

“You’re actin’ up,” Terry groaned, his breath shaky. With one swift movement, he shifted onto his knees, lining himself up with her mouth. “Open up,” he urged, his voice low with desire. He couldn’t wait any longer. Terry fed her his length, hissing loudly when her mouth closed around him, hot and wet. “Mmm... That’s exactly what I want.” 

Eve surprised him by staring into his eyes as she worked her mouth around his length, brown eyes captivating him like a spell. Her hands moved over him, soft yet taunting until he was powerless under touch. 

"You’re gorgeous, you know that?"

"Yes, baby, keep working those hands—just like that."

“You’re perfect, Evie.” 

Terry groaned, his blue-green eyes locked on her. He could hardly believe he had the girl of his dreams under him, ready and willing to please him. "Nobody’s perfect, but I’ll take the compliment." Eve paused, her hands gently running over him as she caught her breath, wetness gathering around the corners of her mouth.

Terry tugged at her bra strap, his voice low with need. “Take this off.” She shifted, unhooking it, and letting it fall to her lap. He stroked himself, remembering the night she let him play with her titties on her couch. He was worked up from all the kissing with no follow through, and she offered to help him release some of that tension. He kissed her breasts while she sighed and worked her hips against him. He tasted her nipples and she arched her back for more. He teased them with his fingers and his mouth, pinching and tugging until she was rocking back and forth in his lap. She panted while he held her in place, thrusting his dick up into her clothed core until they were both coming in their clothes. He almost stayed that night. She clung to him afterward, silently pleading for him to end their self-imposed misery. It took every ounce of restraint for him to leave, but he couldn’t let her body make a choice her mind wasn’t ready to make. Now, he had no more reasons to resist.

“Lay back,” He ordered, shifting to straddle her waist. The new angle had him right where he wanted to be. Close enough to stroke himself against her soft skin and watch the way she responded to him.

"You want to let it all out, don’t you?" She licked her lips, watching his dick twitch in his hand. "I can see it in your eyes. Looks like it's killing you." The tip was an angry red shade. His balls were drawn tight. Her clit pulsed with desire. “You ain’t gotta hold back with me. I want everything.” She promised, her voice soft and alluring, as if she could sense his every need. Terry’s breath hitched, his control slipping. Every part of him was drawn to her. 

“You’re gonna make me lose it, baby.” Terry’s voice was low, a growl in the back of his throat. He couldn’t think straight, especially when she took him into her mouth again, the heat sending him into a frenzy. Her hands slid over her own body, teasing her breasts the way he liked as she felt the fire building in her. The way he reacted, panting and whimpering pushed her even closer to the edge. “Hold up–” He started, but she was insistent, forcing her throat down his length until she was gagging. Terry’s body jerked above her, and he spilled warm cum into her mouth and then onto her plump breasts without warning. “Fuck, Evie,” He groaned as she chased him with her mouth. He’d meant to warn her, but that greedy little mouth of hers was too tempting. He fell into place next to her, catching his breath. She didn’t seem to care about the mess. In fact, she looked pleased with herself, giggling as he apologized lowly. She told him there was no need. 

"You know we don’t have to pretend with each other, right?" She asked, sensually rubbing his seed into her skin. He watched her slow, seductive movements, wondering how he got so lucky. 

“You’re wild.” He felt his dick stirring to life again. “Sit on my face,” he ordered, guiding her to squat above his head. 

"This position is new for me," she confessed, feeling a flutter of excitement in her belly. “You don’t have to do anything but relax,” Terry hooked his arms under her leg and held her in place. “Leave the work to me,” Terry pulled her down, keeping a firm grip on her legs as he licked between them. At first, it was tentative, a slow exploration as he took his time learning her body, what made her sigh and moan. But soon, desire took over, and he became more urgent, more greedy. She ran her hand over his head, experimenting with the sensation of moving her hips. 

“That feels so good,” She whimpered, loving the leverage the position gave her. Terry seemed perfectly attuned to her every reaction, adjusting his moves based on what made her shiver or sigh. She shut her eyes and quickened her rhythm, breathing heavily with pleasure. With a smirk, Terry took a moment to tease her. “You like when I lick your pussy like this?”

“Yes!”

“Keep grindin’ this wet pussy on my face.”

Eve whimpered.

He encouraged her to move her hips faster with soft taps to her ass. She trembled, unable to focus on anything other than the way his tongue felt. Her eyes drifted down to the sight of him between her legs. “Don’t stop–please don’t stop,” She mewled, no longer in control of her own body. It felt like watching a train wreck, knowing something earth-shattering was coming, but being powerless to stop it. “Terry, please!” She gripped the sheets as hard as her fists would allow, crying out as she reached her peak. 

Terry spoke, his voice a low hum as he repositioned her, but she was too dazed to make sense of anything, still floating back down to Earth.

“You good, Princess?”

She blinked, trying to focus as his face came back into view. "Huh?"

Terry chuckled softly, and she buried her face in his neck, letting her body relax against him.

"Evie?"

She felt his hands slide over her back.

"Hmm?"

"You ain’t about to pass out on me, are you?"

"I’m trying not to..." But he kept gently coaxing her, luring her toward sleep with tender kisses and soft whispers. “But you’re tempting me.” She warned, feeling his dick harden against her stomach all over again. 

She sat up on her knees, rubbing her eyes as she looked at him. "How do you want me?" 

"You’re too cute." He said, patting her bottom softly. “Come get in my lap.”

Terry kissed her sweetly, his dick hardening and prodding at her backside. She reached back to touch it, feeling that it was hard as steel and slick, all over again. “Wow,” She laughed softly between their kisses, feeling the intensity of his desire. “You can't get enough of me, huh?”

“You have no idea.” He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read, the playful tension turning into something more serious. “I want you to know I thought about you every day I was gone. Couldn’t get you out of my head. Imagining you like this... all mine.” He gently smoothed his hands along the sides of her hair, trying to tame the wild curls that had grown bigger with all the sweating and rolling around. “I’d lie on my cot, seeing your face in my mind. Every night.”

"Terry… you really shouldn’t say things like that," she said, her voice soft with sudden shyness.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He challenged. Eve swallowed, feeling the weight of his gaze. Terry had a way of making her feel seen, like all her walls had been torn down, yet she was safe. She took a breath, reminding herself that she could let her heart lead with him. 

"Because I'm falling for you and when you say things like that, it makes it so much harder for me to keep it together."

“Why are you acting like you gotta fight this, Eve?” He tilted his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “It’s us.” He took her hands in his, stilling them. 

“What if I told you I feel the same way?” She could hardly believe he was saying the words she had wanted to hear over a decade ago. Even if this was some strangely vivid dream she’d drummed up as a result of her Christmas Blues, she wanted to soak in every word, every moment. “I love you, Eve Dillard. I’ve loved you for a long time. I’m sure of it. More than anything else in this world.”

“Terry Richmond...” She started, almost at a loss for words. Hearing him declare it so openly made her feel like she was floating in the clouds. “I love you too.”

“Yeah? You sure?” He teased. 

“Uh huh,” She hummed, feeling his fingers splay across her thighs.

“I wanna show you how much. Can I?"

She nodded.

“You want me, Evie?” 

She nodded her head. 

His hand landed firmly on her ass, and she let out a startled whimper as she lurched forward in his arms. The sound shot straight to his dick. "You gotta let me know, sweetheart." 

“Yes, I want you, Terry. All of you.” 

Eve didn’t know what was possessing her, making her so open and submissive. She told Terry he was everything she’d ever dreamed of and that she couldn’t imagine a future without him. He told her she didn’t have to. She kissed him deeply, tasting herself as he alternated smacks on both sides of her ass until he was satisfied and lining himself up at her entrance. Her mouth fell open as he pushed his way inside. “Fuck,” Terry cursed as she clutched his arms with that shocked look on her face. He kissed her lips and then her jaw, all tender and sweet. “You’re okay. I got you,” He promised, groaning when she began to open up for him. His large hands slid down her body, settling over her hips as he began lifting her up and down on his dick. Eve buried her face in his neck, biting her lip as Terry slammed into her. He grunted his satisfaction as she dripped down his length and made a mess.

“You feel so good, Evie.”

“Squeezing me so tight.”

“All mine.”

“Give it to me, Princess.”

His words pushed her closer to the edge until she could hardly breathe, gripping his neck and shoulders like he was her lifeline. “You’re drivin’ me crazy!” She moaned into his ear, her walls squeezing around his dick. “Good,” Terry grunted, “That's how I want you. Crazy about me and this dick.” Her eyes rolled back as he pumped his hips harder, the strain in his voice evident. “You were made for this dick, just like I was made for this perfect little pussy.” He poked something inside of her that made her holler. But Terry was shushing her, holding her tight to his chest and cooing in her ear. "Let it happen, baby. I got you. I know what you need. You can take it."

She placed her hands flat against his chest. His grip on her hips were still iron tight. "C’mon now, Evie. Be good to me. You wanna make me feel good, don’t you?" His words worked the way he intended. She surrendered, laying her head across his shoulders and holding on for dear life as he worked her over. "That’s it, baby. I told you you were perfect. How you feel now?"

She dug her nails into his skin and concentrated on keeping her eyes from crossing. You know how it feels, you bastard! She thought, but the only words spilling out of her mouth were sweet and agreeable. She told him how good he felt, how no one else had ever made her feel that way, and that she wanted him to make her feel that way for the rest of their lives. He told her that he loved her and she was the only one for him. She cried, warm teardrops spilling over his skin as she came, yelling his name. Terry held her in place, capturing her lips in another long kiss as he finished, wishing there was nothing in between them.

Eve’s head rested against Terry’s chest, her body limp from exhaustion. Breathless and completely satisfied, they stayed close for several minutes, catching their breath. Slowly, Terry began to stir, pressing a soft kiss to her damp forehead.

"You good, mama?"

“Mhm,” She mumbled, nuzzling into his neck. “I'm just...worn out." She said, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Me too,” Terry admitted, his hand caressing her back softly. He never wanted this moment to end. When she opened her eyes again, his gaze was on her, focused and intense. It took her breath away.

“Why you looking at me like that?” 

“Take a guess,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

She didn’t need to guess. Everything between them—every unspoken desire—was no longer hanging in the balance. It had all become real. Her thoughts wandered to the future—wedding rings, little feet running around. “You want to marry me and have five babies?” she teased, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.

Terry raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “You think that’s funny, huh?” She shrugged, her fingers gently tracing his jawline, “Guess I’m funny and fine.” His smile widened, his gaze filled with something unreadable. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Her fingers gently caressed his mustache, her voice a soft whisper as she murmured, "I love you, Terry. I really do."

"I love you too, Evie.”

2025

Christmas Eve had always been special, but this year, Terry was determined to make it unforgettable.

Eve turned away from the window where she’d been watching the snow fall gently outside. It was a rare sight in the South, a phenomenon that only happened once or twice a decade, and she cherished every second of it. Terry had left her by the window, disappearing into the bedroom, only to return a few moments later, standing by the gas fireplace with a small, neatly wrapped box in his hands.

“What you over there scheming?” she teased with a curious smile.

Terry looked over at her, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the nerves he was trying to hide. “Come here, babe.”

Eve took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. “What’s this? You acting all secretive now?”

Terry extended the box to her, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Just open it and see.”

Eve carefully untied the ribbon, peeling back the wrapping paper to reveal a delicate snow globe. She lifted it, tilting it slightly to watch the glittery snow swirl around the two tiny figures inside. At first, she thought it was just a beautiful decoration, but as she took a closer look, the details caught her eye: the woman inside wore a dress that looked remarkably like the one she had worn the year before on Christmas Eve, and the man was down on one knee.

“Hold up... is this us?” Eve gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. She looked up at Terry, her heart pounding. “Terry! Where did you even find something like this?” She knew it wasn’t something you could just pick up at a store. It was clearly custom-made.

Terry stepped closer, his deep brown eyes searching hers with a quiet intensity. “I wanted you to have something special, something that showed you just how much you mean to me. Every detail, every piece of it... is us.”

Eve’s tears spilled over as she held the snow globe close to her chest. “Terry…” 

He gently took her free hand, sinking down on one knee in front of her, mimicking the figurine in the globe. She stared at him, her breath catching, as he pulled a small black velvet box from his pocket.

“Eve, you’ve been my everything from the moment I met you. It took too long for me to face that, but now, I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Will you marry me?”

She nodded, tears spilling over before she could even speak. Her voice was thick with emotion as she whispered, "Yes, baby, yes."

Terry stood, pulling her into his arms as she laughed and cried at the same time. The snow globe rested safely in her hand, the tiny figures inside capturing the essence of their love—timeless, unwavering, and entirely their own.

A/N: Happy Holidays! Divider by firefly-graphics. The themes included were for storytelling purposes only. The holidays can be enjoyed with family, friends, or even on your own.

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[xxgoldie]

went to karaoke and someone sang crush by david archuleta so now im thinking abt lighter romance enthusiast lorenz also listening to the most pining songs just the sappiest playlist known to man

as usual, i am Obsessed with lighter being down bad. he's such a fucking dork, i need him. have been listening to a variety of love song playlists for the last few days as i write this and its not helped the brainrot. cw: none, pure fluff, gn!reader wc: 444 (or 618 with the bonus)

when he's out and about, he tends to listen to metal and rock, the same kind of stuff that's in his demo trailer. it gets him in the right headspace for his champion duties. when he's alone, though? his headphones are playing exclusively sappy glitter-gel-pen love songs. he would rather die than let anyone know, he has an image to upkeep - wouldn't even put it past him to have a second spotify account, bc u know the girls will bug him to see his wrapped every year.

within the love song genre, his favourite songs are ones that remind him of you.

his listening history is an amalgamation of different musical styles, but what he really pays attention to is the lyrics; if there's a song that really captures the way he feels about you, or one where the singer describes their lover and they're similar to you, he can't help but put it on repeat. he also loves duets - just like with romance movies, he loves imagining its the two of you in that situation. when he's deep in crush territory, he'll even make a playlist of those songs (it's long - can't help that every other song reminds him of you).

when you're finally together, he's more open about his love of love songs. it may take a bit into your relationship, during some late-night conversation about your respective silly behaviours when you were pining over each other, for him to show you the playlist, titled with just your initial and a heart emoji. but even before that, if you happen to play any of the songs he secretly listens to, you might catch him singing along under his breath (lowkey this post every five seconds). you might chalk it up to him picking up the words of songs the girls listen to, but that's because you don't catch the way he looks at you with the lyrics on his lips.

there are other times where he'll slide up behind you in your kitchen, arms around your waist and head propped on your shoulder, the domesticity and the fact you're wearing his tshirt getting to him. he's not much of a singer, but he'll hum one of those songs in that moment (his voice has a lovely smooth n deep timbre, so his humming sounds Heavenly in your ear). he might get a little embarrassed if you recognise the song and start humming along with him, or god forbid singing, but he'll still sway the both of you along to the music. he's not much of a dancer either, but he can figure out a midnight slow dance in the kitchen for you.

bonus!! a few songs i think he'd listen to, tho kinda influenced by my own music taste (+ spotify links): kiss her you fool - kids that fly (he has it on loop when he's psyching himself up to ask you out) meteor shower - cavetown davy crochet - the backseat lovers (perhaps i'm biased on this one bc i crochet) stitch me up - set it off can't help falling in love - elvis presley cloud 9 - beach bunny ("even when we fade eventually to nothing / you will always be my favourite form of loving" really hits with his whole 'dying for love' thing) love grows (where my rosemary goes) - edison lighthouse paper rings - taylor swift jackie and wilson - hozier (there's a lot of hozier in his playlists, but he really likes the thought of a family with you, even if that's only a couple lines of the song) valentine - atlas sweet tooth - cavetown ("guess i must be satisfactory / you said you love me exactly the way i am" takes him Out i can just feel it) would you be so kind - dodie

[chaoticcreative14]

No Exit - Chapter 1

Mafia Boss! Ash Garver x F! Bartender Reader

Summary: You have just gotten a new job as a bartender at your city’s most popular club ‘No Exit’. A coworker’s illness causes you to be placed in the VIP section of the club where you meet none other than the club’s owner, Ash. As you spend more time there, you start to realize that the club, and its owner, are much more than what they first appeared to be.

WARNINGS/TAGS (these are the tags for the whole series and are subject to change): Smut 18+, Violence, Blood, Death, Knife Play, Gun Play, BDSM, Rough Sex,, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 2598

You weaved through the people on the street, nearly knocking them over as you ran as fast as you could with the death traps women like to call heels on your feet. You had just gotten a new job at the city’s most popular nightclub and like an idiot you had slept through your alarm, body still not used to sleeping during the day and staying up through the night. You hadn’t actually started the job yet but you decided to try and acclimate to your new sleep schedule a week in advance. Clearly, it hadn’t worked the way you wanted it to.

You checked your phone as you ran, eyeing the time and willing it to move slower. You couldn’t be late your first day, you’d be fired on the spot. Some higher power must have been listening to your prayers because you made it to the nightclub with five minutes to spare before the start of your shift. The sign indicating the name of the club ‘No Exit’ was glowing and casting everything in a red hue, including you, as you approached. It was a bit of a creepy name for a club in your opinion, but hey, who were you to judge?

The bouncer at the front recognized you as you approached and waved you through, having met you a couple days ago when Darby, the manager, had given you a walk through. You quickly deposited your stuff in the back room and gave yourself a quick once over in the mirror hoping you didn’t look too much like someone who had just ran a half mile in six inch heels.

Surprisingly, you didn’t look too bad. Your hair was a bit disheveled but other than that you looked okay. You attempted to fix your hair and make it look like an intentional mess, windswept and all that and you finally managed to get it to a place you were mostly happy with. With that, you left the back room and made your way behind the bar where Darby was waiting for you.

“Cutting it a bit close there, y/n” Darby said as you approached.

“I know, I’m so sorry Darby I promise it won’t happen again,” you said in a slight panic.

“Relax y/n, it’s not like you were actually late, I was just kidding,” she said with a warm smile. “I’m not worried about you, I hired you for a reason.”

You exhaled a breath of relief at that, panic subsiding. “Thanks Darby,” you said.

Darby walked behind you, heading out towards the vast expanse of the club. “Alright, you’ve got this, I leave the bar in your capable hands. If you need anything, just press this button behind the bar and either I’ll come running or someone else will be down to help,” she said, patting you on the back. “And Sadie is here too so you’re not completely alone.” You gave her a nod and with that she was gone.

Sadie was the other bartender working on this floor tonight but she wouldn’t be able to help you out that much considering how busy you were. Oh yeah, that was the other thing. The club had multiple floors. The main floor had a large stage at the front of a dance floor, a large bar, and seating around the dance floor. The second floor that was more of a lounge where people could watch the entertainment from above but also have private conversations, with its own bar of course. Suffice to say, the second floor was more of a VIP section. It also had a third floor but that wasn’t open to the public; you didn’t even know what was up there. And, if the door you saw during your tour with Darby was any indication, there was also a basement which as far as you knew was used for storage. It was by far the largest and fanciest place you had ever bar tended in. Tonight you were on the main floor along with Sadie, where all the newer hires worked.

You turned toward the crowd of people swarming the bar, ready to order drinks and muttered a quiet “you’ve got this” under your breath. You began taking people’s orders and mixing their drinks for them, trying to work as efficiently as possible while giving them an award winning smile. You seemed to be doing an alright job if your tips were any indication. Your tight black dress probably didn’t hurt either, it showed off your tits spectacularly if you did say so yourself.

You spent the next couple of hours in a groove and you were actually having fun. The vibes were good and so was the music. Unfortunately, like they say, all good things must come to an end. You saw Darby approach you and you got a bad feeling, stomach sinking as she waved you over. “Is everything alright?” you asked her. “I thought I was doing okay but if not I can do better,” you promised.

“Oh it’s not that, you’re doing an amazing job,” she assured you. You started to feel calm again until an apologetic smile creeped onto her face. “But-,” she began.

“Don’t say but,” you pleaded, not liking where this was going.

“But,” she continued, “Laurie, one of our VIP bartenders just had to go home sick and I have no one to replace her,” Darby explained. It took you a second to catch on but when it did your mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“You’re not serious,” you told her, still processing what Darby was getting at.

“I am,” she replied, with sympathy in her voice.

“Why can’t you get Sadie to do it?” you asked her. “She’s been here longer than I have! It’s literally my first night,” you said a bit panicked.

“Sadie is fine down here but if I put her up there she’d be throwing herself at every man whose wallet she thought was thick enough. Our VIPs pay not to be bothered, throwing Sadie at them would derail that,” she explained.

“And you can’t call anyone else to come in?” you asked.

“No, I already tried that,” she said.

“But if I go up there, who’s gonna cover me down here?”

“Y/N, any bartender can cover down here, not every bartender has what it takes to work up there. But I believe you do so, please, for the love of god, go upstairs,” she convinced you. You inhaled deeply and took a moment to appreciate how fucked you were.

“Fine, but if I make an idiot of myself I will not be held responsible,” you swore.

“Thank you!” she said, clapping her hands together. “Alright, follow me.” With that, you trailed behind Darby, passing through the red rope that indicated you were about to enter a VIP area and walking up the stairs.

The second floor of the club was much classier than the bottom floor was. Fancy booths with partition walls that gave off a red glow, containing black leather couches and black tables. It was like night and day. You could still hear the music from the floor below and could see the entertainment on the stage from the edge of the balcony if you walked to it but the atmosphere was much different to that of downstairs. “Well this is nice,” you said.

“Yeah well, the VIPs pay enough that they have certain standards,” Darby said.

“Looks like it,” you agreed. You made your way to the bar and noted the shelves of very expensive alcohol it carried.

“So,” Darby started. “Serving drinks up here is a little different to down there. You have your VIPs who sit at the bar as you can see,” she said, gesturing to the people sitting at the bar. “That is typically covered by one person, in this case, tonight it is being covered by Anna,” she continued, pointing at a woman behind the bar. “Your job,” she said, turning back to you, “is to cover booths one to ten,” she explained.

“You are only responsible for those ten groups the rest of the night. Anything they want, you get for them,” she said, handing you a tablet. “Now these VIPs like I said don’t love to be bothered, so when they need you, they’ll press a button on a tablet that resides on their table and it will pop up here,” she said, pointing to the tablet in your hand. “It will indicate, for example, that booth seven would like a server or bartender’s assistance and you will go over there and take their order. You’ll click on their booth number on the tablet and note what they ordered, then you will go and make them their drinks and bring them their food from the kitchen behind the bar. As soon as their order is fulfilled, you press the check beside the booth number and that booth will disappear on the tablet until the next time they request your assistance. Does that make sense?” she asked, after that long explanation.

“I think so?” you say in response. She had given that explanation in less than 2 minutes so you weren’t that sure.

“Repeat it back to me,” she said.

“Uh, they use their tablet to signal for a server, it pops up on my tablet, I go over and take their order making sure to click on their booth number on the tablet to input what they order, I go and make their drinks and grab their food for them, serve it to them, press the check on the tablet so their booth disappears on the tablet until the next time they need me, and other than that I pretty much fuck off and make myself scarce?” you said.

“Perfect. See, you’re already good at this,” she said. “And remember, under no circumstances do you go over to them without them signalling you. These are very private people and discretion is key.”

“Got it,” you said.

“Great,” Darby said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I have faith in you, if you need me tell Anna and she’ll signal me,” she said walking away. You were still a bit overwhelmed with all the information that had just been thrown at you but you resolved to just go for it and so you walked behind the bar, waiting for one of your booths to signal you. Anna gave you an encouraging smile as you did, recognizing you were nervous. At least she seemed nice.

You didn’t have to wait for long for something to do, screen lighting up after only a few minutes. Booth Four, the screen read. Alright, you could do this, at least that’s what you told yourself as you slowly approached the booth. You were greeted by three older looking men, all in suits, and none of them bothering to look up at you. It wasn’t because they didn’t notice your presence, because they rattled off their orders as soon as you reached the table. You had a sneaking suspicion it was because they thought you beneath them, considering you were working at a club like this.

They were basic with their orders, three whiskeys. At least that was easy to put into the system. It took you less than three minutes to pour their drinks and serve it to them, making sure to check off the booth when the order was completed. You still didn’t get so much as a thank you which was pretty rude but at least they’d still be tipping you. Darby had clued you in during your tour that to become a VIP member you had to commit to a minimum of a fifty dollar tip, which was crazy to you but hey, working in the VIP section had its perks. Besides, you knew that that amount of money was nothing for them.

You continued on serving booths as they popped up and all in all, it was a pretty easy gig. Luckily, most customers were actually pretty nice, the majority of them, apart from booth four, at least saying hello and giving you a smile.

As one in the morning came around a few of your booths had cleared out, now only having to manage six booths. You had practically served every single one of your assigned booths at that point, all except for booth one, that is. It was even more secluded than the rest of them, located in a dark corner. Honestly, you had assumed that no one was seated there tonight because it had been so quiet, so it came as a surprise to you when your screen lit up and Booth One was displayed across it.

You grabbed your tablet and quickly walked over to the booth, heels clicking on the marble. As you reached the table you looked up and put on your biggest smile but found it almost dropping in surprise when you saw a group of younger men, different from the people you’ve been used to seeing all night. There was one in particular, however, that caught your eye. He had longer, black, slicked back hair, the deepest brown eyes you’d ever seen, with a moustache and a beard. You could also tell, even from the opposite side of the table, that his white dress shirt was practically hugging his muscles and his thighs filled out his black dress pants more than they had any right to. In other words, the man was sex on a stick.

He was already looking at you when you turned your head towards him, appearing to give you a once over. You were just about to ask for their orders when the man spoke, not a greeting, but rather an intrigued, “You’re new.”

You gave a slightly nervous laugh at that, meeting his eyes. “Is it that obvious?” you asked, worried you weren’t doing as good a job as you thought you were.

Another one of the men at the table interjected, putting your worries at ease. “Not at all,” he said. “Ash here owns the club, so he notices these things.”

Well shit, you thought. Of course Mr sex-on-a-stick had to be the owner of the stupid club you worked at. You were fucked. “Oh,” you said slightly stunned. “Well it’s nice to meet you sir,” you said trying to seem professional. At that, you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes darken but you were certain you were imagining things. Just because you wanted to jump his bones, didn’t mean that he wanted to do the same.

“You can just call me Ash,” he said, smirking at you. “And you are?” he questioned.

“Y/n,” you introduced yourself. “Darby just hired me, it’s my first shift” you explained.

“First shift and already working the VIP section,” he remarked. “Darby must have a lot of faith in you.”

“Apparently so,” you agreed. There was a pause for a moment before you shook yourself out of it. “So what can I get for you?” you asked.

“Scotch, top shelf, neat,” he said.

“You like it strong,” you said with a laugh and he gave you a wink. Everyone at his table ordered the same thing which made your life easier. “Right, I’ll be right back with those,” you said with a smile, walking away and trying not to trip over your feet and eat shit.

As you left the booth, however, you felt a pair of eyes on your back and you just knew who they belonged to.

Yeah, you decided. You were absolutely fucked.

NOTE: Hey everyone! Thanks for reading! I just wanted to let you all know that while I don’t have a specific schedule for updating this fic as I’m writing as I go, I will be aiming to publish at least a chapter a week though it could be more or less than that depending on the week! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!

[amostimprobabledream]

Sweet talk & Switchblades (Delinquent!Grimmjow x Reader)

Also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/65163163

The whole thing started with an argument over a bike.

You were running a bit late. That was nothing new. You didn't know how you always managed to be racing the clock when you tried to set several alarms to wake up on time, but perhaps your neighbours and their incessant arguing had well and truly fucked up your Circadian rhythm. You’d tried to ask them nicely to keep it down, but they always apologised and then forgot their promises to lower the volume a couple of weeks later. You'd woken from a fractious sleep like the dead hauled from a grave, only for your body to clumsily lurch into gear when you realised the time.

Either way, you were in no mood for some wannabe delinquent's shit, especially not when they looked like they were barely out of high school.

You were hurrying to get to the station, your bag banging painfully against your hip as you moved, trying not to outright run and get out of breath but moving fast enough to make an actual difference, and your armpits were already starting to dampen from the exertion. You could see the steps leading down to the platform up ahead, like some kind of beacon.

There was a convenience store right beside the station entrance, which normally was a godsend when you forgot to make breakfast and wanting to grab a quick snack to keep you going on the ride to work, or a place you could walk to in the evenings on balmy evenings to pick something up and stretch your legs before winding down for the night. You recognised its glowing sign very well, like a checkpoint that indicated you were nearly home after a long day. Under normal circumstances, its presence was a stable, comforting one. But that was not the case today.

Your path was impeded by a bunch of bikes. Admittedly you didn't know shit about bikes, so you couldn't tell if they were just large scooters or small motorbikes or something inbetween, but either way they were blocking your path to the steps. You nearly tripped over your own toes as you suddenly lurched to a halt to avoid them, given how fast you’d been walking, hissing between your teeth as you knocked lightly into one of the bikes. A group of guys who looked like their ages ranged from late teens to perhaps their thirties, judging by the tall skinny guy, had the nerve to look over at you like you’d disturbed them.

"Oi, watch it, girlie." said a blonde guy who might have been attractive if it wasn't for the sneer on his face, like he was smelling something bad.

You bristled instinctively at his tone. Girlie?

"Excuse me?" you bit out, doing your best to keep your voice, an even volume and not let it go all high and priggish.

"Yeah, watch it!" a shorter guy with a mouth that looked like it's been punched several times chime in, his teeth chipped as he speaks. "You coulda scratched the paint!"

"By lightly bumping it with my bag? Where'd you get it, random parts in a junkyard?" you snark in response, unimpressed by the posturing. Real tough guys these were, five of them all staring down one woman who just wanted to get down the goddamn stairs. Not to mention, what were they doing loitering on some random street? Didn’t they have another gang to go punch or whatever it was they did to amuse themselves?

The boy's face was painted with shock at your retort for a split second and it took him a moment to recover, like he was taking a second to process what you said, like a slow computer buffering.

"You got a mouth on you, huh?" a heavyset guy with a red mohawk commented, more a factual statement than an accusation, but it didn't put you any more at ease. The way they were looking at you wasn't dissimilar to a pack of dogs who have heard an animal moving through the brush and are debating if it’s worth the chase.

They still hadn’t moved and you desperately wanted to check the time on your phone, but you didn’t want to risk taking it out and tempting them to snatch it off you – you wouldn’t have been able to stop all of them if they did, and with their bikes they could easily get away before you had time to react. Instead you drew in some air, trying to keep your cool despite the mounting irritation.

“I just want to get past.” You said, but they just chuckle mockingly at you.

“Yeah, sorry, but we’re waiting. You’re gonna have to take the long way.” Drawled the blonde guy, leaning back against his bike, hair spilling down his back over his jacket.

Your patience (what little you had left of it) was reaching its limit – you shouldn’t have to ask them to move more than once. Or at all.

"Move your goddamn bikes."

All of them suddenly stopped smirking. If this were a movie, it would be the scene where tumbleweed crossed the barren landscape, just before the shootout.

Got to stop watching shows so late at night. You thought to yourself, irrationally.

The shortest guy stepped closer.

"What did you say?" he said, and you're starting to understand why his teeth look like that - you're starting to want to punch him in the mouth as well. What was so difficult for them to understand, exactly? And because you doubt another girl would be as upfront as you, should one happen to be the next poor person who simply needed to get from A to B in a timely manner, you couldn't back down now. You would not.

"You heard." you replied, folding your arms, anger pulsing through you like a second heartbeat.

The stunned looks on their faces would have been pretty amusing if you weren't so keenly aware of the five of them against one of you, the bikes in your way like a shiver of steel sharks, but there was nowhere else for you to get onto the platform, not unless you crossed the street and walked even further and you had a feeling that if you tried that now, they'd chase you. Probably yelling insults and throwing things. Or worse. The best way around this is through.

The runtier guy glanced over his shoulder for a second, like he's asking the others silent permission or something. He's trying to look menacing but the scowl on his face made him look more petulant than anything else.

"You little-"

"What's this?"

A deep voice suddenly cut through the tension, and immediately, it's like they'd all forgotten about you. Every head turned towards the source of the noise and, unwittingly, you raised your eyes.

A tall figure strode towards the commotion, having just emerged from the convenience store. Your eyes were drawn to him inexorably, something about him immediately demanding your attention. He wore jeans and a black leather jacket with silver studs on the shoulders, which caught the light. Electric blue hair was swept back off a handsome, chiselled face, a couple of strands hanging between his eyes. He was smirking and something about the curve of his mouth, the half-lidded slant to his eyes, sent a spark licking down the length of your spine. There's something about the way he moved that told you he knew how to fight, there's a fluid, feral grace to his movements.

"I told you dumbasses to wait out here and you can't even do that right?"

He drew closer to you and you could smell him, a spicy kind of cologne mixed with cigarette smoke and styling wax. He wasted zero time in getting all up into your personal space and your feet gave ground to his approach on reflex. He grinned, looming over you, the collar of his shirt gaping open enough to reveal hard, firm pectoral muscles and a silver dog tag glinting between them. Your legs hit the bushes bordering the path and the leaves tickled your skin.

"I just asked them to move out of the way." you said, proud of yourself for keeping your voice from shaking, even if it sounds breathy to your ears.

"She mouthed off at us, Grimmjow!" piped the runt behind him, like a kid tattling to his older brother.

Grimmjow - what a strange name, yet it suits him somehow, adding an extra flair to his already striking appearance - regarded you with amusement and slight condescension.

"Did she."

He doesn't look angry, there's a glint in his eyes as if he's intrigued, and you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away, his eyes sucking you in and holding you there, rendering your body immobile, refusing to obey your mind's commands. He moved in closer, taking obvious pleasure in crowding you and cutting off any potential escape route.

“You’re lucky I don’t have time for you right now, sweetheart.” He said in a lazy drawl, leaning in and resting a hand on your shoulder, where you noticed that several thick silver rings adorned his fingers. “Got places to be. But before I go, what’s your name?”

Your heart was pounding in your chest – would he seriously let you just walk off after giving his friends attitude? He definitely looked the part of a delinquent, maybe even a gangster, far more than any of his friends did. And he seemed to be the leader and you had no doubt if you were a man the situation wouldn’t be playing out this way, but you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Why do you want to know my name?” you asked, and he gave a soft, dangerous chuckle.

“Playing hard to get, huh?” he asked, quietly enough that only you could hear him. His eyes bored into yours and his hand dipped lower, settling on your waist and squeezing. The strength in his fingers alone drove a gasp from your throat. “Heh. Have it your own way.”

An indignant splutter left your mouth as his hand brushes over the swell of your ass as he straightened up and a blush burned your face – did he just-?! Your mouth fell open to say something, which was probably not wise, but nothing happened, just a faint croaking noise emerging from your throat. It happened so quickly you’re already doubting it it did at all.

“We’re leaving.” Grimmjow commanded the men behind him casually, like he was giving out his drink order. “Move it.”

“But-“ the runt protested.

He glared at the smallest guy, who visibly shrank back, chin dipping to his chest.

“Yeah? Got something to say, D-Roy?”

D-Roy? That had to be a nickname, surely. Unless the idiot just happened to have particularly cruel parents. D-Roy quickly shook his head, shooting a glance at you that was both fearful and resentful, and one by one the gathered group get on their bikes and just like that, your path was cleared. You half expected to hear a videogame jingle to indicate you could proceed.

You were determined not to look back as you practically ran for the stairs, but just as your head was about to disappear down past the brick wall either side of the steps, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking out of the corner of your eye.

Grimmjow was watching you, a smirk on his face that immediately made you uneasy, like he knew something you didn’t and was savouring in your woeful ignorance. With a sharp inhale, you faced forward and hurried down the steps – perhaps if you were lucky, you could still get your train.

Grimmjow strode towards his bike, which had been concealed from your vision by the others. His was larger, sleeker and cooler-looking than those of his gang and he straddled it with the expertise of a cowboy getting atop his horse, revving the engine.

“You’re really going to let her off the hook that easy?” Shawlong queried, in a dry voice, drawing his bike up beside Grimmjow’s, but still staying slightly behind out of silent respect. Grimmjow’s lip quirked, revealing a flash of teeth.

“Who said anything about letting her off the hook?” he responded with a shrug of his wide shoulders. “When I want to find her, I know where to look.”

“How do you know that?” Ilforte asked, sounding surprised. “You’ve met her before?”

“Nah,” Grimmjow answered, procuring something from his sleeve and holding it between two fingers, the grin on his face widening.

Between index and middle finger sat what looked like a building pass, complete with a lanyard strap dangling down, the corporate logo at complete odds when contrasted against the worn leather of his jacket sleeve. You hadn’t even noticed him lift it from your pocket, too busy getting flustered over him touching you. You’d pay for your lack of observational skills later.

“She’ll be wanting this back.” Grimmjow said, a feral spark lighting the blue of his eyes.

Let the hunt begin.